I, I am known as Crivus Kornel, but back then, I was known as Syron, the dragon slayer, the only shade in the business. How I acquired that title was unknown to any but me, the tale shrouded in mystery that only made it more appealing to be told everywhere, but the facts were always wrong. I was not a cold-hearted murderer that killed for sport, nor someone who stripped the scales off the dead for profit. There was even this ludicrous tale that I, a loyal shade at the time, felled the dragon king that came before the legendary and feared Hell's Wrath!
No, my story was a lot less interesting, and how I received the name is anti-climactic; but someone needs to hear my story, for I fear that I will be killed before I have the chance to make it known. At the time, I was just a shade, one that blended in with any crowd, the one that would be missed if anyone glanced my way. I did not have any dreams of greatness or fame; I knew that I would amount to nothing, I had no skill with the sword or magic. What use was I when those even half my age could do everything I could?
So I was just a simple farmer, but even that life was difficult. You see, shades are born with an innate sense of magic, much like the elves. All shades are supposed to know how to utilize at least some of it, lest we 'waste our inherent advantage.' Even the most simple of farmers could use magic to grow their crops faster and plentiful. But alas, I could not, I was the one who's crops wilted without the needed rain while others waved their hand and let out a light sprinkle of water. The one who was brushed off by others because I was just useless wasn't I?
My life was miserable, my life was decided to be horrible the day my mother got sick before I was born. Her magic rushed to cleanse her of the sickness running rampant in her body, but that never happened. Healers say the disease was fatal, she was doomed to die. At the time, this happened often, sickness was something that was natural, something you couldn't stop, so nobody tried. Except me. Little not-even-born me, who's magic rushed out of my body and into hers to try to help. But it didn't. In the end my mother died and almost all of my magic died with her, leaving me with a pitifully small amount.
So here I was, going through my routine day, not knowing that soon, my life would change, for good or bad... I'm still deciding to this day. I was walking through the city, minding my own business, when a loud cheer exploded into the early morning. My head snapped up immediately, turning to see the cause of the nearby commotion. Instantly, my eyes widened, and I could feel disbelief well up into my gut; a dragon. He was magnificent; the gaze of many would be drawn to his figure, scales a pale yellow that glowed in the rising sun, giant wings half-folded over his back, his muscles rippling as he shifted under the collective gazes of the shade population.
But not me, no, my mind was instantly drawn to his eyes, and what I saw there made a shiver run up my spine, his bone chilling gaze sweeping over the crowd, and I felt myself freeze. The hatred that swam in his blood-red eyes, the mad glee that shined in his pupils, the desire to kill reflected off his eyes.
Instincts screamed at me to run, and I wanted to, but I couldn't, my legs felt like jelly, fear rooting me in place. I swallowed and opened my mouth, wanting to scream at all the fools who stood in awe, watching the magnificent bringer of death, 'Run!!! Can't you see it??!! He'll kill us all!!' but all that escaped was a choked whimper, drowned out by all the noise the dragon brought.
He bowed his head as he spoke, "I thank you for the kind reception, but the flight here has exhausted me, I need to rest." Disappointed murmuring rang through the crowd, but no one objected. He nodded and turned, wings spreading before launching into the air, flying away. But I saw the glint in his eye, he would be back, but not for the reason everyone hoped.
I tried to tell them, tried to warn them. But they told me I was crazy, that their NightBlade ally wouldn't harm them, that I knew nothing, I was just jealous, there was nothing to worry about. But look at what happened, look at who's alive and who got burned to a crisp by dragon fire. Look at the village that we so treasured, razed to the ground by the very being you thought we could trust. In the end, I was the only one who survived, not because I was skilled and strong and managed to kill the beast, therefore acquiring the name dragon slayer. No, I survived because I fled in the protection of the night, before the dragon attacked. I fled like a coward, dooming my village, and this, you say, is where you hunt the dragon for revenge and get the title right? No, because I didn't care, nobody cared about me, why should I care about them? In this world, only the strong survive, only the cunning, brave, strong, smart. They were stupid to trust an unknown, that got them killed. I have no regrets.
I was wandering the forest a day after I fled, my bow in hand. I had six enchanted arrows in my quiver, ones that would pierce deep into my prey, an 'insta-kill' they said. The foliage was thick, inhibiting my movements and blocking my sight. A rustle in a bush to my side drew my attention, eyes set on something unseen. I drew my bow slowly, carefully setting an enchanted arrow, and waiting. Loud thumps suddenly echoed in the quiet forest, something large, heading straight for me.
I panicked, releasing the arrow I held, it flew true, striking something with a wet thump. A roar cut short by my weapon and a loud thud rang in my ears before everything went silent. I cautiously swept aside the leaves, as I set my eyes on my prey. My eyes widened, throat dry, as dread settled like a lead weight in my stomach. Because there, laying dead with an arrow pierced deep into his eye, was a young dragonet, forest-green scales camouflaging him from my sight before.
"My son!" A loud roar of rage reached my ears and my head shot up, an explanation rising in my throat about the current situation. But the apology died on my lips as I set my eyes upon a blood-red dragon, the armor he was wearing marking him as the general of NightBlade's forces. Vyrix, second to the dragon king, and, if he heard him right, father to the little dragonet laying dead on the forest floor.
As I watched the furious father, my survival instincts kicked in, and I activated my necklace I had, the only source of magic I had on me, and teleported away. The last things I heard was the grief and sorrow in the dragon's voice as well as another, squeaky, younger one, "Daddy? Why is big brother sleeping?"
"Not now Fiero, I must call the king..."
And that's how I got my name, pretty anti-climactic right? Well the story gets interesting after that. That's right, I'm not done. After a while on the run, I settled into a nice family, well I possessed someone that had a little bit of dragon venom in them and settled in, but that's not the point! The point is, I was happy, I loved them, I forgot about the yellow dragon that took my village from me.
That was a fatal mistake on my part, fatal for my family. Because the dragon was not content with just shade deaths, he wanted humans too, and this time he brought back up. The dragons of NightBlade were perfectly okay with destroying the humans at this time and obliterated everything. Unfortunately for me, the dragon king apparently learned about me from his general and he was less than forgiving.
He ripped them apart in front of me, took everything from me while I watched, and didn't even kill me. I watched in detached pain as they left leaving me in the smoldering remains of my village. The guilt welled up inside me as I glanced around, because it was my fault they were all dead, all my fault...
And then, like so many others in this cruel and unforgiving world, anger rose in me, and I swore, that I would make him regret his decision to keep me alive. I would make him wish he killed me when he had the chance. I'll make him pay, if it's the last thing I do.
So I watched with glee as the humans I tipped off raided the dragon king's home and ripped apart his home and killed his mate. I frowned when they said they couldn't find the dragon king's body, but still, a sense of deep satisfaction filled me as I walked away, a serene smile on my lips.
Until I heard, that he had a hatchling still alive, I roared in rage and slammed my enchanted sword in a tree, up to the hilt. Then, my lips curled into a small smile, 'I'll make you pay, young prince. You will pay for the sins of your father.'
And I got that chance when the humans invaded the camp that was sheltering the young prince. I was possessing a human, he has less magic than a shade, but more than me, so I'll make do. When I saw the drake confronting the pompous leader of the group, I smirked. I waved my hand and willed my magic towards him, making him faster. I grinned as shock made the drake widen his eyes. I watched as they fought to a standstill, lips curling down, 'weak human, even with my magic and the sedative, you still can't take down the drake.' A shade jumped down and knocked the human out, before the young prince collapsed.
I leapt in, fingers grazing over her shoulder, pumping magic into her system and she collapsed, unconscious. I smirked at the downed drake, before glancing at the situation unfolding, the shades were organized, I wouldn't be getting out alive if I killed him now. I touched the human and sank into him, possessing him.
I followed the orders given to me by the young prince, I have to gain his trust, it'll make it all the sweeter when I kill him. When I stayed in the human capital, imagine my surprise when I saw the young prince up at the stage, sulking. It made me want to laugh, but I held it in like a dutiful servant.
And that's how my story plays out, nothing that interesting so far, but hopefully something comes up along the way. Because I'm far from done, I plan on living a long and peaceful life once I cleanse the world of scum like him. The tale that concerns me is never accurate, I'm not foolishly brave, or powerful. I'm a weak coward, one who knows when to run away, which is more than most of the fools I know, but my story is always exaggerated. Though I suppose, in a way, I did have a hand in killing Hell's Wrath.
And now, in the present, staring at the slumbering drake in front of me, I felt my lips pull into a smirk. 'You thought you could win, King of Nightblade, but you didn't, you died. I changed my mind, I won't kill your spawn, I'll corrupt him. I'll not be known as a weak coward, I'll be known as the legendary dragon rider, and I will rule,' my eyes gleamed, now I dream of greatness, I hold power, 'You will be remembered as only the pest that got in my way and was crushed underfoot. Because winners write history, and losers, well, they have to live with it, or don't live at all.'