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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒍

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔. 𝑨𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. 𝑨𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒘, 𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒔

⠀⠀Magic was wild. Unpredictable. Untamable. To wield it, was to play with death itself. For one would never really know just how it would go. How it would end. Masters of the mystical and Arcane were once thought as true masters of the world. But people would quickly find that just because you wield such a power, doesn’t mean you know how to control it. Knowledge, in this field, is where true power lies.

⠀⠀All it took was a cup. A golden goblet-like item made of gold and gems. A gift from a Queen from some distant land. He was never sure. The story always changed. All but that one detail. He remembered thinking that as his brother slung the golden cup at him. A perfect line to his head. A reflex that he didn’t know he had, had his hand gripping the object before it could make contact. A flare of the nose. A flash of anger. And the golden goblet laid as liquid in his hand. Bewilderment adorns a perfect face. Onyx-like eyes flickered to the other male in the room. The one that had thrown the cup. The one that had triggered the smokey midnight colored … Flames spring from his hand as the cup makes contact. The one that caused the anger.

⠀⠀That was the earliest memory he had of it. Of magic. Of hands that once held swords. But now wielded flames. Of dark eyes that turned Golden when consumed. When using. The earliest memory of when things shifted. And life became a nightmare.

⠀⠀In the following months after that ‘incident’, Aurelius would learn one of few things. And not from being told, but from eavesdropping into hushed conversations. From servants in the Beckett Manor talking to him as they worked.

⠀⠀One - There were several different houses within the magical community that also had others that wielded such magic.

⠀⠀Two - This magic they used apparently came from a Dragon that lived many years ago. He never wanted to think about how dragon blood ended up in his bloodline. But here he was. Dragonic in nature. But human in body and mind.

⠀⠀Three - While there was dragon blood in his families viens, only one person per generation would actually wield the magic granted from said bloodline. This could be anyone within the family. Him. His brother, sisters, cousins. Anyone.

⠀⠀Four - The magic was always different. The type of magic one would wield would be depended on the person who wielded it. His uncle before him was a great illusionist. The guest now knew that the tricks were real magic and not some smoke and mirrors most seemed to think it was.

⠀⠀Five - While most houses embraced magic and the Draconic bloodline, his did not and found it was shameful to ever entertain the idea of wielding such a thing. He knew then, that he would be the black sheep of the family for life. For as long as he lived.

⠀⠀Six - While the dragon blood gave the families long life, longer than normal humans, those that actually wielded the magic were immortal. Always made sense now as to why some families chose to mix with other magical families and not humans.

⠀⠀Seven - Not all the other magical houses had dragon bloodlines. They got their magic from other places. Other beings. Considered other things as well. But it was still there. Just different rules that applied to them.

⠀⠀Eight - No matter how he twisted it. Now matter how he hid it. The wild and untamable ran through his veins. Caused an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. No matter how good he tried to be. No matter how he tried to hide it. It was there. And the longer he kept denying it, the angrier he became.

⠀⠀He convinced himself that it was jealousy. That it was envy that fueled their hate for the bloodline. A crippling dislike that would make a mother outcast her own son. It was the only logical reasoning he could come up with. He knew these people for years. Never once had someone turn on him. Made him fend for himself. So he was sure they were envious. Jealous.

⠀⠀It all came crashing down one evening at dinner. Always dinner. Always in the same four walls that something like this would happen. Always around gathered food and lit candles did the anger spill out. Seeping into the clear air that holds some element of thickness. Tenson, his brother, had called it. Making the statement of being able to cut it with a knife. A flash of gold in his eyes. The pointed statement would naturally mean nothing. But they had been arguing all day over trivial things. Things that shouldn’t have been brought up. Things that shouldn’t have been noticed.

⠀⠀A book of arcane thoughts and history. A book that his mother would screech to the high heavens about. A book that was outlawed within the home. And the very book he got caught with. Nose deep in a speech made by some older elder of the community. This was how he was supposed to learn. Suppose to figure it out. To know what and who he was. But then his brother came along and snatched the item from his hands.

⠀⠀He’s aware of the anger that ran deep in his veins. The rage that shook his core and gripped his heart in a vice. A warmth that spread throughout his body and rattled his mind with nothing but red. Red. He hated that color. He was aware of the constant tapping against his nerves. And he was aware of how thin they were.

⠀⠀The snap came with a thud. Arms jerked arms around. A hand grabbed the book back. Mouth worked before the brain did. A sneering laugh tossed in his face. A clear death wish with how close they were. And for a mere second, he was teleported back to boyhood. Older brother tackling younger brother to the ground. A tumble in the grass as a tiny fist landed against jaws.

⠀⠀And he remembered the trouble they got when his mother found out. Another screech to the heavens and a prayer to the gods. He never once was sorry for beating his brother up. And looking back on it? The guy deserved every blow he gave him. A flash of golden hues. A sigh tossed upward.

⠀⠀He brought up the book at dinner. A silence that fell over the table. Aurelius clenched his fist under the table. Thumb nail pressed against his palm. An attempt to suppress the liquid fire that surged through his veins. He could feel it travel through him. Coursed from his chest to his lungs. An ache to release. But he tipped his chin. Held his nose in the air as he looked down at his brother. An air of pride. An illusion of calmness. And then words were exchanged. The last thing he remembered was thinking it’s getting too hot in this room.

⠀⠀Rays of light filtered through the window. An ache he hasn’t felt in a long time surged through his body. Hurt, exhaustion. Obsidian eyes blinked open. Soft breath released in the air. Then he blinked the blur out of his vision. The room was dark. Only illuminated with the soft glow of the sun beam shining through the open curtain. Birds sung the morning's praise. And that was when he realized the window was open.

⠀⠀His legs felt heavy. Almost like jello when he dangled them down off the bed. And then bare feet pressed against the ground. A feeling over took him as he stumbled on his own feet like a newborn calf walking for the first time. He couldn’t remember what happened. Couldn’t remember why he felt like this. Why he was so tired and sore.

⠀⠀He finally stumbled to the open window. The mix of fresh, cool air and a sense of unfamiliarity hitting him at the same time. This was not his room. That wasn’t his bed. This wasn’t his room. Statements eched from his mind as he leaned against the windowsill. The birds still sang. And, if he focused, he could hear children playing as well. More bewilderment creeped up his shoulder and grabbed his mind in a vice.

⠀⠀His mother was adamant about not having more children after his sisters were born. Twins. Almost killed her in birth. She was done. Four was more than enough. He remembered, once, hearing her speak in a hushed conversation with her father. The fear of the ‘curse’ with one more. That curse now realized in their oldest. But was it really a curse?

⠀⠀The thoughts flooded his mind as he stumbled more to the door. Dark wood. Smooth to the touch. Not like one he’s seen at the manor. Did he really end up in a place far from home? Did he time travel? Was he even in Rome still?

⠀⠀Richly decorated corridors attacked his senses. A sensation that made him want to close the door. With a hand pressed against the wood, he almost did. But shuffled forward again. And again. And again. With each passing door, he was more than sure he wasn’t home anymore. The immaculately designed manor had touches from ages long past. Suits of armor. Swords. And other decor that would make one assume this family had been around for decades. Ages.

Like his family.

⠀⠀It’s a ghost of a laugh drawn near to him that catches his attention. A breath drawn in, and puffed back out in another fit of laughter. Curious feet drew him near. Hand pushed against wood once more. Eyes peering into the illuminated room.

⠀⠀The two maids almost jumped out of their skin when he pushed the door open. An unexpected visitor drew curious gazes. A question on their lips. Until the recognition flooded their eyes. Another blur of motion. Voices tangled together in his thoughts. And soon, without realizing he was being tugged along, he stood before the master of the house. A man he knew well.

⠀⠀If you were to look up wizard in the dictionary, his image would be next to it. Long white beard. A mess of grey and white hair on his head. But a booming voice when he spoke. A man of knowledge and power within the secret circles. A man that his family avoided. And he never knew why.

⠀⠀By the time the story was finished, the moon had long hung herself in the sky. The stars twinkled and dance in the night air. And the owls prowled the grounds below. Many wanted to know what happened. Wanted to hear from his mouth the words he wanted to say. But to be frank, he couldn’t remember. Dinner was a blur. A black wall of nothingness stood between him and the charred remains of his family home.

⠀⠀Only you survived.

⠀⠀Nothing filled him. He knew something should have. Regret even. But he couldn’t find it within himself to find those feelings. Sadness. Swarrow. Nothing. Nothing but anger still.

⠀⠀Kings came and went. Moons rose and dipped. Stars fell to the Earth in shining glory. The modern world would spring forth from the ash and bone of the ancients. A new world would rise all around him. And yet? A prophecy would lay hidden. A warning would go unheard. And the whispers in the wind would wrap around the Dragon with a message he just couldn’t decipher. But he knew something was coming. The feeling rattled his core. Rumbled with each tremor in the Earth. He knew something was coming. Just not sure of what just yet.

To be Continued . . .

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