Lucian sat on his ethereal throne, before him stretching as far as the eye could see an endless expanse of his realm. The world below teemed with life, power, and conflict; nothing there moved him. Newborn Elysia, the newly anointed Goddess of Magic, had already begun her journey to take control of the Arcane World. Her mission was well underway, and soon, that realm would bend to her will. For Lucian, though, his mind was already that much ahead, seeking the very next piece for his grand design.
He had been mulling his next step concerning his divinity, looking for those who held enough promise to leave their humankind behind and step into the proper ranks of true might. It was time to find the God of War: one who was a force beyond conception and ambition without a scrap of conscience to act as an ultimate enforcer for the better position in his divine regimen. The idea tickled him, arousing him at the possibility of gaining a warrior good enough to be called that.
He closed his eyes and cast himself outward into the universe, flinging his sense about over the works. Planes of existence unfolded before him-worlds brimful of mighty beings, ancient warriors and gods storming for dominance. Through them he sifted, searching for one to stand above the others. He swept his eyes over stretches of blood-drenched battlefields where armies grappled against each other in interminable war, and yet none of the warriors there stirred any interest in him. Their power was great, but it lacked something, a spark of divinity, the potential for true godhood.
And then, scanning those places, something caught his eye in the middle of the search.
It was a faint presence, barely perceptible in the great tapestry of the cosmos, but it pulsed with latent power. A potential that, if nurtured, could prove more powerful than even the most powerful of warriors. Lucian concentrated his attention, honing in upon the source. What he found was not the warlord or legendary warrior he had anticipated.
It was a child.
A boy of but some two years in age sat alone on the edge of a desolate, rocky cliff. His small form was huddled under the darkening sky, skin pale and his golden eyes aglow in faint light within the shadows. He was silent, but there was weight to his presence, as if the very air around him hummed with an untamed, primal power.
Curiosity brought Lucian closer. What was a child, so young and fragile, doing out here alone? But as he pressed onward, he came to realize his mistake. The boy was not human. His aura shuddered with the unmistakable essence of dragons, the ancient and powerful race whose bloodlines were revered and feared across many realms. But there was something else, something unusual about the boy's energy. His power was raw, but enormous, as if two separate strengths conflicted in him.
Lucian's eyes lit up with a spark of interest. A dragon born of two different tribes, he thought. The child's bloodline was a curse upon him and yet his gift. For dragons' prides were very proud of their lines, and the mixing of blood between tribes was the ultimate transgression. This boy-this outcast-had been abandoned by both tribes, rejected for what he represented. His parents had been taken from him; locked up for the audacity of challenging the sanctity of their bloodlines, and left to fend for himself.
This was a tale of tragedy, humiliation, and potential. And for Lucian, it was an opportunity.
Without even a moment's consideration, Lucian was gone from his throne, the air shimmering about him as he stepped across worlds. A heartbeat later, he stood on the desolate cliffside as the wind swirled soft, his form materializing in front of the boy dragon.
The child looked up, his golden eyes wide with surprise and fear. He scrambled backward, unsure what to make of the massive figure suddenly coalesced before him, but Lucian's calmness would not be disturbed; his gaze remained fixed upon the young boy, whose face was mixed with curiosity and amusement.
"What's this?" Lucian whispered softly, yet full of authority. "A dragon abandoned by his own. How. interesting.".
He looked up at Lucian with those big watery eyes. He is a small thing, shaking slightly. But he didn't say a word. Not a single word. Lucian felt a retort of fear and confusion beam off the child; so he understood that there must be something defiant in the child's eyes—something to make one know that it really was the spark of resilience which had not yet been extinguished by the cruelty of this world.
Lucian crouched down, lowering himself to the level of the boy. "Tell me, child," he said softly, yet in a questioning tone. "Do you know why you were abandoned?"
The boy shook his head and didn't say much more; he spoke barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. "No… I don't understand. I didn't do anything wrong."
Lucian's dark eyes had darkened yet a bit more, but his expression still hadn't altered. "No, you did not. Your offense, if it can be termed that, was being born. Born from two different tribes, each of which considers you an abomination because of the mingling of your blood."
The boy's eyes filled with confusion. "But… why? Why is that wrong?
Slowly, Lucian rose to his feet. His gaze shifted forward, towards the horizon. "Because the world is sometimes cruel and stupid, ruled by the fears and conventions of lesser minds. They fear what they don't understand, and so they cast you aside.".
The boy's small fists clenched at his sides, emotion rising up inside of him. "I hate them," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I hate them for what they did to me. for taking my parents away."
Lucian returned his gaze to the boy, a small smile forming on his lips. "Hate is a powerful emotion, child. But it is not enough to change the world.".
The boy looked up, confusion and anger swirling in his golden eyes. "Then what can I do?"
Lucian stepped closer, his presence looming over the boy like a shadow. "You have the potential to be more than they ever imagined. More than they ever feared. You are not just a dragon—your blood, though mixed, carries the power of two ancient tribes. And that makes you unique. It makes you. dangerous.".
The boy swallowed hard, staring back at Lucian. "What are you talking about?"
Lucian's eyes sparkled with something dark and powerful. "I'm talking about potential, about being better than all of them. More than the tribes that rejected you. At the right hands, you'd make a god."
The boy's breath locked in his throat. "A. a god?
Slowly, Lucian nodded his head. He spoke with his voice resonating in every fibre of him, a deep and low pitch. "Well, yes. A God of Dragons, shall we say? The mightiest of your line. His power should be more than enough to bend the lines of the tribes that abandoned you down to kiss your feet.".
The boy said nothing for a moment, his brain stumbling to understand the sheer magnitude of what Lucian was offering. A god. He had been humiliated and abandoned, left to die alone, and now this man-this being-was offering him the chance to rise above it all.
"But why?" he finally asked, with a voice that shook. "Why would you help me?
Lucian smiled, though it was a cold, calculating smile. "Because I see potential in you. And because I have need of powerful allies. I am building a pantheon of gods, beings who will rule over creation itself. You could be one of them."
The boy's eyes grew wide. "I… I don't know what to say."
Lucian stretched out his hand, his eyes intense. "You don't have to say a word. All you need to do is accept."
The boy looked at Lucian's open hand, his heart thumping in his chest. This was it-the turning point. He could feel the weight of the decision hanging in front of him. He would no longer be the oddity; the abandoned child was good as gone. He became something much more.
Slowly, cautiously, he extended his small hand and inserted it into Lucian's.
At that point, a wave of energy flooded through him-power from the gods that imbued every fiber of his body. His body shone bright and fiery as if his very constitution was alive. The raw power of the dragons now roiled his veins as every channel of strength was multiplied a thousandfold through the godly power Lucian had given him.
In an instant, he was changed and took on such size and complexity and savagery that the boy's slight frame is almost obscured by his suddenly taut skin turning to scales as his true dragon form finally emerged. His wings spread wide, heavy with power, and flames seemed to erupt from his eyes and boil through his very soul like a god.
He stood up to his fullest height, and now his form towered above the cliff. In place of weakness clutched about his form like a cloak, there was an overwhelming aura of power, making even the mightiest of dragons tremble.
The boy-no, the God of Dragons-turned towards Lucian, his voice deep and resonant. "What now?
Lucian smiled. "Now, sit down by my side. And with me, we shall renew the world.".