The Spark of the Ancients

The smoke burned his lungs. With every breath came a searing sensation in his chest, followed by violent coughing that sent daggers piercing through his chest. Marc rubbed at his eyes and tried desperately to take another breath when he thought the smoke had thinned. His breaths came in ragged gasps. The breaths he could take felt like a hot coal in his chest. He tripped, barely catching himself.“Momma!” He cried, looking around at the billowing smoke, the intense flames, the bodies. His shout instantly became an uncontrollable cough. Tears welled up in his eyes that smeared the thick soot that covered his face. “Momma!” He screamed. “Papa!” His small, tiny voice barely penetrated the sound of crackling wood, the clang of steel, and the tumult of the grown men and women fighting, dying.

Marc was lost. They had run from their home away from the village on the bay where the invaders had come from. Marc hadn’t seen them, but he could picture them from the stories everyone had told. Nasty green little creatures with warts that covered their body from head to toe. Their spaghetti thin black hair was so greasy that their hair alone could serve as kindling with how easy it would start. All the details didn’t compare to the eyes, though. The dark yellow beady eyes glowed in the dark. They were the things of nightmares. Momma had always said that the yellow eyes would come for you if you got out of bed at night. That the yellow eyed Goblins loved little kids that didn’t listen to Momma. He had thought they were just stories, but the screams, the blood..

Marc shuttered before the uncontrollable coughing brought him out of these thoughts. It was getting hard to focus on anything. The thick smoke made it impossible to see his hand right in front of his face. The only marker he had was to stay away from the heat, which was getting harder and harder to do. Every tree he could make out was ablaze with a red glow. Red fiery flames licked at the trees, both alive and dead. He squinted but couldn’t see anything. The air was so thick with an acrid smoke. Heat, which had once been a distant thing within the smoke, now slapped him in waves from all sides. He could feel the intense heat below his thick padded boots and prayed to the Seven Gods that he did not fall. Unbidden, another coughing fit ensued.

When it was finally over, he was ragged. What was happening? He could barely stand. His body burned from all sides. He stood there wheezing, gasping his body, trying to find a full breath of air, but all he inhaled was smoke. He stumbled forward. His vision was swimming and his head spun. “Momma?” He sobbed. His right leg didn’t listen as he took a step forward and he crumpled to the ground. The excruciating pain that he had been expecting never came. The ground felt warm, comforting, and scaly? He shot up and immediately fell down before a resonating voice penetrated his very mind “Do not move little one! You are safe now.” The words, or feelings, Marc couldn’t accurately tell which, instantly calmed his fears unnaturally. “Sleep.” Marc’s already heavy body collapsed. It was almost like a trance overtook him. The words felt imbued with power, with dominance.

Marc awoke screaming. “Momma! Papa! Don’t leave me!” His chest was heaving, his mind was reeling. Where was he, what-

Then he remembered. The goblin attack, the forest aflame, that voice, the sensation of supreme dominion. Marc sat up gingerly and carefully and backed his way up into the closest corner. His entire body was burnt, not scorched. Marc didn’t even want to look, but he could feel it. The pain was more than he had ever felt in all his five years. More painful than when he had burnt himself on Momma’s cook pot. He whimpered softly, trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position.

He was in a dark cavern illuminated by soft orange glowing moss that reflected on stalactites on the roof of the cave. The cave itself was massive, as it was dark. The moss left a paltry glow that let him see outlines, shadows, but nothing else.

Marc heard a drip, drip, drip, from off to his right of water. The sound of the drip echoed through the cavernous expanse. He should be scared, he should be.. something! Marc felt like he should anyway. His mind seemed to betray him. It was calm, too calm. He thought back to that dominant voice that had resonated inside his head. It hadn’t controlled him so much as it had changed him. It made him want to be calm despite everything. Marc could feel his emotions warring, attempting to break free of the supernatural calm. He wanted to scream, to cry, to shout, anything! His body was in such pain, but his mind refused to acknowledge it and let him cry. He was in a cage, at least his mind was.

With his supreme calm, he finally had the courage to look at his left arm. The skin sagged as if melted in spots. There was nothing but bone on his pinky and ring finger. Deep in his soul, he felt a pang of alarm, but on the exterior, all he could ask was, how was he alive? He should be dead! Marc was no grownup, but if his arm was any sign, then this was NOT something he could live through or should live through. “It has to be a nightmare.” He said to himself. “that’s it. There is no other explanation.”

“It is not a nightmare.” The Domineering voice said again in his head.

“I chose you. I pulled you from the fire. Pulled you from your pitiful existence to become something greater!”

The voice sent chills through his body and gave him goosebumps all over. He didn’t know what to say or who to say it to, so he decided to not say anything. Moments passed in the dark before he heard a THUD THUD THUD of footsteps that shook the cave itself come closer.At first it was just an outline, a hazy lump in the dark. The THUD THUD THUD continued until in the orange glow the massive scaly head of a DRAGON appeared. Marcs mouth fell open. He felt slight pangs of both panic and excitement before the unnatural calm that still penetrated the very fiber of his being drowned them. “What do you mean, something greater?” Marc said, garbling his words. It took him aback momentarily till he remembered his arm and the sagging, melted skin and complete lack thereof in sections. He absolutely did not want to see his face right now.

For the first time, he was grateful for the magic coursing through his body. Marc was sure the pain he was feeling had to have been worse. He hurt a lot, but having the skin on your fingers completely burnt off? He imagined that would hurt a lot! The unnatural calm and the deadening of his senses he could only describe as magic.

“You died in that fire, your body and soul pushed past the limits of what was possible and what most average men can do. You endured the flames in a way not seen in millennia. Today you shall be reborn!”

The voice was that of the Dragon! Was this how they communicated? Every word sent chills, every sentence pounded in his head with a thunder. Every sound resonated the domineering feeling. After collecting himself from the onslaught of words, he managed a reply. “Died? Reborn?”

“Enough! It is time!” The dragon boomed.

The words hit him in his very soul and he fell back, hitting his head against the rock wall behind him with a crack. In a daze, he felt the long claws grip around his body and lift him into the air. Marc desperately tried to struggle, but the dragon’s grip was iron. He tried to scream, but what came out was a gurgling cough. His body was well past expired. How am I alive? He thought to himself for not the first time.

The Dragon wasted no time. He felt a jerking sensation as the Dragon swiftly moved towards the dripping noise. Marc stopped struggling and looked around. In the faint glowing orange light Marc’s eyes grew wide, and then wider still. The drip wasn’t water at all! Despite the gurgling noise, Marc screamed for all he was worth. His body, as mangled as it was, found new strength as he wrenched himself back and forth. He felt the dragon’s grip slowly tighten and despite all his efforts; they amounted to nothing. Marc whimpered as the dragon lifted him towards the horrific scene. A pool of dark red liquid that Marc knew was blood lay beneath him. What sent chills up his spine wasn’t the pool of blood, but where the blood came from. Above the pool, the dripping noise he had heard was not water at all. A massive dragon’s head attached to it skewered a mangled body that hung from the ceiling. Its maw hung open and a drip of blood fell every few seconds.

The sight caused Marc to shrink further. That feeling of dominance that emanated from the living dragon before him seemed to pulse brighter, thicker. Through death, there shall be rebirth. Through rebirth, there shall be life! The Dragon said in his mind. It thrust Marc downward until the pool of blood cascaded around him. His skin burned as the blood touched him. The dragon pushed him further and further into the viscous liquid until his screams became gurgles. The iron taste of the blood was repulsive. Marc clamped his mouth shut, begging for his suffering to end. Momma.. Papa.. He thought as darkness consumed him.

***

Venerate held the human child in the pool long after the convulsions had stopped. The child truly was remarkable. Ancient lore, even by Dragon standards, talked of the old blood, the origin of dragons. Passed down until only fragments remained of which were tarnished, forgotten, laughed at. Even Venerate of the twelve had scoffed at the ancient lore until he saw this boy. Surrounded by flame, amid flame, he survived!

Despite his weak flesh, the boy persisted in living. His will had been unbreakable, his desire, although unconscious, had awakened a bloodline deep within him. A remnant of a remnant, a blood decendant of The Prophet. a true Spark of the Ancients. Venerate left the boy in the pool after he was sure he was dead by human standards. The first Royal Dragon in countless millennia. He mused to himself. So many secrets, so much magic that had been lost. He purred loudly. As powerful as they were, Dragons were just a shadow of what the ancient lore said they once were. He, Venerate, would lead the Dragons back to true glory. It all started and hinged on the boy.

He left the cave and spread his wings. A new dawn approaches. He thought. The Spark of the Ancients has returned. With a powerful flex of his muscles, Venerate lept from the high ledge, leaving the body of the boy to begin his transformation.

***

Marc woke up gasping. He felt sticky. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to remember where he was and what was going on. The fire, the heat, the DRAGON! His eyes opened wide, and he took in a sharp breath and froze. He could breathe! Fresh air never tasted so good! It was better than good! He felt strong! Each breath in felt like he was breathing in enough air for five grown men. He exhaled slowly before sitting up. He looked up instantly, seeing the horrifying visage of the mangled dragon pinned to the roof of the cavern. Was he still in the bit? Where did all the dragon blood go?

He felt the ground around him and a shiver ran up his spine when he saw his arm. Gone was the mangled flesh, the many burns, the bone. In its place was something worse in his mind. All of his skin was gone! He felt his hands around his body rapidly. All the while, his heart sank as he moved his hands over his body. He started slowly and then faster and faster in a panic. ALL of his skin was gone. Scales had replaced it! Marc got to his feet, heart pounding so loud he thought if he opened his mouth to speak, it would burst out like when he had the flu last winter and Momma had to take care of him.

Momma! Throwing his current situation to the wind, the nasty scales were future Marcs problem he told himself. He bolted out of the cavern, moving faster than he had ever moved before in his life. He reached the light that led out of the cave and lept. “Oh, boy! Oh, boy! He said, falling at breakneck speed. What had he been thinking? Leaping off a high ledge like this? Marc hadn’t even been brave enough to leap off his own bed and here he was leaping off a mountain! Marc slammed his eyes shut and braced himself. Had he survived the flames only to end up splattered in the dirt? His mind and body flailed as he struggled to do something, anything to not at up as a squashed pile of goo on the dirt. He could feel the rushing wind as it passed by his body, the tree tops passing him by. Passing him by?

Marc opened his eyes, surprised to see the trees streaking by in a rapid blur. Once the surprised faded, Marc could feel his appendages, two enormous outstretched pale blue wings protruded from his back. Marc could feel the strain of his body on his wings, his muscles holding the wings outstretched as he sailed on the wind. Every push, every flap of the wings, he felt it. Almost instinctually, he flapped to gain altitude as if he had been doing this his whole life. He looked around, stunned. He felt free! Free in a way he hadn’t felt since before the goblin attack. It brought back memories of Momma and Papa, playing outside, playing in the forest before the- fire.. Looking down, he saw the charred forest. The blackened trees spread on as far as he could see. He frantically looked ahead and saw what used to be his home.

Instinctively, he swooped down and landed amongst the burnt houses. “Momma? Papa?” He meandered through the streets in a daze. “Momma! Papa!” He shouted more frantically. His heart started pounding in his chest. Where were they?

“Ahh! Monster!” A woman nearby screeched. Marc turned. “Monster?” He mumbled, pulling his arms close to his chest. He turned frantically, trying to find the monster the lady had seen. His mind flashed to the Yellow Devils, the goblins. His lip quivered, and he shook with fear. He thought of the flames, the pain, the agony he had endured running from those eyes. “Get back you!” A large man approached with five others in tow. They all held clubs, staves, or other farming equipment. The man with the club swung before Marc could react. THWACK. Marc stumbled backwards, rubbing his head where the man stuck him. His head was spinning. Had they hit him? But why? Wasn’t the one with the club Papa’s friend? Marc remembered a time when the man had given him a tasty apple and let Marc ride on his shoulders. Why was this happening?

The men hadn’t stopped and before Marc could clear his head, another blow landed, and then another, and another. He didn’t see the blows coming, but he felt them. The CRACK of the staff, the THUNK of the club, the THUD of the boot. He fell to his knees and then to the floor. He curled up as tight as he could, trying to cover his head. Why? He thought. More blows fell. Why? He thought again. He cried out. “Please stop! Momma! Papa!” But the blows didn’t stop. It was as if his words reignited their fury and the blows came even harder. He continued calling Momma’s name until he couldn’t anymore. Then he simply wailed till he could no longer even manage that. All the while, the blows never stopped. In his heart of hearts, the only thing he could ask “what did I do wrong?”

“The swords don’t cut!” He heard a man say. “Keep clubbing it!”

“I think it’s dying!”

“Vile Monster!” another voice said.

“What is that thing?”

In desperation, as Marc’s consciousness faded, he reached out with his mind. He didn’t understand exactly what he was doing or how he was doing it, but he reached, stretched his mind out screaming for help, anybody, or anything to save him. It didn’t take long before Marc heard an intense roar in his mind in response. Instinctually, he knew.. Venerate was coming.

Marc awoke smelling the too familiar scent of smoke. He stood up shakily, seeing the village once more up in flames. This time, this time, it was different. He felt a boiling rage inside him he didn’t understand. A liquid hot.. HATE for those that had hurt him. These people, these things, were supposed to be his family! When he returned to them, what had they done? They had beaten him, scorned him, hurt him.

He stood up and stretched his wings. The smoke, which only days earlier had burned and choked him, now was a welcome. He breathed in deeply. The boiling emotions festered inside him. He lifted his head and screamed, roared. Instead of sound, a billowing plume of blue fire shot forward like a beacon. He instantly felt strength enter his body, a strength he hadn’t known, a strength not of man. He smirked as he felt his insides boil.

He was no longer human; he was no longer one of those pitiful excuses of flesh. Marc was a dragon! Marc braced his feet, then surged forward, scanning the surrounding area, looking for them. He had never moved so fast. His boyish body felt reinforced with immense power. His wings radiated strength. A child was he no longer. He burst around the corner of a house and saw a man holding a sword. “Stay back, you filthy beast!”

“Beast am I?” Marc said. Surprised at the gravel in his voice. He walked toward the man, uncaring. The sword couldn’t cut him. Marc could see the man shaking, feel his heart pounding. He smirked. The man was weak. In a swift motion, Marc struck out with his claws, easily slicing through the man’s chest. “Pitiful.” Marc said in disgust. He spit at the body before turning. He only felt satisfaction at the death by his hand, the blood that dripped from his claws. Was he supposed to feel something more? The boiling rage inside him stamped out those thoughts before they could begin. It was beneath him!

Marc swept his wings, launching himself into the air. With his new dragon sight, he could easily see his prey. From this vantage, he could see the village in its entirety. He saw off in the distance a massive form that could only be Venerate. Together they would bathe this land in fire! The destruction Venerate caused on such a mass scale, he could only envy. Through the smoke, he saw a group of men heading in the direction Venerate was. The boiling heat inside him raged like a tornado. These insects would burn. ALL OF THEM! Marc angled downward, flapped once before collapsing his wings all together. The air blasted by him as he fell faster and faster, but it was of no concern to him. He was invincible! He was power incarnate!

He crashed to the ground on top of the men, cratering the ground near him. He rose to his feet. There was blood running down his leg. Was that his? It couldn’t be. These foolish beings couldn’t harm him. Marc opened his mouth and the jet of blue flame enveloped all the men nearby. The smell of burning flesh was.. intoxicating. Marc breathed deep the scent of the destruction, his victory. Walking casually through the burning village, he caused a swift death to anything in his path. He felt the boiling feeling inside him acclimating him to his newfound power. How had he ever been okay with just being human? The power.. The pure ecstasy that was being a dragon. He felt his insides changing, his mind altering. His human body had been but five years old, but the power inside him was ancient. Even older than Venerate. He could feel it inside, cutting out his weak human body, replacing it with grandeur. His thoughts became muddled, the very way he thought began to change. Marc was a child no longer. His body remained the same but his mind had aged significantly. The child within him being ripped aside like a bug under foot. His head ached, his head pulsed his eyes going red as the transformation continued.

He needed blood; he needed death! His body craved it! He burst out from his casual stride, cutting, ripping, tearing any human he could find. Those out on the street were easy. He found he could sense the heartbeats of those still inside or hiding nearby. They all fell to his claws. Everything faded except the bloodlust. The purest form of living, in the carnage of those you despise.

Marc came to his senses. He didn’t know how long later. Blood covered his forearms. His chest was heaving. Marc was unsure of the body count so far, but did the count matter? The rage inside him demanded more always more. The feeling of ecstasy as he ripped the humans limb from limb. How could he care about something so benign as a body count for those so far beneath him? He sensed another group of humans hiding nearby and burst after them excitedly. He ripped the door off its hinges and burst inside full of fury. When he saw who it was, he froze. “Momma? Papa?”

Before him, cowering in the corner, were his parents. Blinking multiple times, His vision cleared. Marc looked around. A wave of emotion crashed into him as memories flooded into him. This was his house. There was the table were the three of them had laughed, ate meals together, and spent hours on end playing his silly card games. His head flicked and saw his small pallet on the corner where he would sleep. His parents’ bed wasn’t far away, filled with furs. He recalled the constant drone of his father’s snoring. He had heard a lot of grownups complain about people snoring, but to him, to Marc, it had always soothed him to hear his papas snores. It had meant he was still there protecting Marc.

His eyes fell back on his parents. “Momma?” He said again. The gravel in his voice still apparent. He felt a pulse inside him and fell backward. The boiling rage subsided, the dragon its intensity seemed to fade somewhat. “Momma! Papa!” He shouted and ran to his parents. His voice, which moments before had held the gravity of a dragon, somehow seemed more normal, more human. “M-m-m-Marc?” He heard as he barreled into them, careful to avoid hitting them with his claws.

He held them for a long while, not wanting to let go. “What is going on?” He heard his Papa say.

He pulled back from their embraced and looked at them. His arms shook, but he didn’t care. “Marc… Marc.. Can it be? Marc! It is you!” His Momma proclaimed pulling him back in tight. He felt tears he didn’t know he had been holding in run free. The warmth from his parents felt more comforting than he could have thought. The feeling of longing, the feeling of love. His mind was in turmoil. He felt like he was thinking clearly for the first time since the whole thing started. The boiling sensation that he now recognized as his dragon blood, had tried to erase his humanity from him entirely seemed broken from him finding his parents. Inside, the raging cyclone in his body and mind that was causing him to age, no, not age but grow mentally had ceased. The transition, or transformation, had stopped all together. He wasn’t quite human, but wasn’t fully a dragon yet, either. He was a Dragon Halfling.

He held his parents for a long time before pulling back once more. “Venerate will destroy the village. It isn’t safe here.”

“Nowhere is safe, son.” Papa said. Both of his parents looked as if they hadn’t slept in days. Their clothes had been scorched, and they had various burns on their bodies, mostly minor. Soot covered them from head to toe and was only cleaned by their recent tears. Despite their state of disrepair, they were perfect.

“You sound so grown up now.” Momma squeaked. Marc could see tears running down her eyes.

He smiled softly. “I’m not really sure what I am anymore.” He said looking down.

“That doesn’t matter. What you are is our son and that will never change no matter what happens.” Momma said. Iron filled her voice. Marc looked up and saw that her brown eyes were sharp and bore into him. Her words brought Marc to tears again.

“I can’t stay here.” Marc said with sadness laden in his voice.

“But Marc-” Momma began.

“No.” he said, cutting her off. “Look at me. I am more dragon than human. There is no life here for me. I have to go. I have to go.”

Momma squeezed his hand. “My little boy. My little boy.” Tears were falling from all three of them. “I don’t understand what is going on. You have grown up so fast. Are you sure you can’t stay?”

“Where will you go?” Papa said, ignoring Mommas pleas.

“I don’t know.” Marc said. “I just can’t stay. Not with him here.”

Papa nodded solemnly, understanding what he had said. He pulled Momma close. “We’ll head towards the river. There might be some boats still around.”

“Boats? Why?” Momma said. She pulled away from Papa, looking him in the eye.

Marc winced, not really wanting to explain. “The dragon won’t stop its rampage.” Papa said. “Not willingly.”

“No. No!” Momma said adamantly. “You can’t fight it! You’ll die!”

“If I don’t try, the entire village will burn.” Marc said. His own thoughts felt muddled. The people had beaten him, tried to kill him. Part of him wondered if he should help at all? He had to do something? Didn’t he? He felt his dragon half and his human half struggling for supremacy. He felt so conflicted. Marc looked at his parents, his parents! He couldn’t just let them die. Could he? That thought made him feel sick in his stomach. That he could think about abandoning his parents. They were only human, though. What if they hurt him like the others? Aren’t they all the same? He put his head in his hands and couched the sides of his skull. He felt arms wrap around him once more.

“You don’t have to, just leave us don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine!” Momma said. He could tell she was lying. She was scared. They both were. Was it of him or Venerate? Yet she was willing to sacrifice herself to let him get away? Not that he could even put up a fight against Venerate, but she would forgo even the chance of surviving to ensure he could escape. He clenched his fists, his thoughts waging war on himself before his mind popped and he had felt a clarity like a flawless gem. “Papa, gather as many people as possible and head to the docks.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Momma?” He paused, taking a few deep breaths before continuing. “I love you.”

Not waiting for a response, Marc dashed out of the semi-destroyed house and took to the sky’s.

Marc let out an ear-splitting roar and mentally called out to Venerate. The deafening roar boomed and vibrated the air itself. The overwhelming sense of dominion overtook him. Such pride. The Spark of the Ancients truly has manifested itself. His initial roar, as he called out to Venerate, had contained a challenge. The response that came gave him goosebumps underneath his newfound dragon scales. Marc wiped the tears from his eyes before setting himself. marc spread his wings and flew away from the village, drawing the massive beast with him. He looked back and with his enhanced eyesight, he could see his parents down below herding a lot of small children and a few other adults towards the docks. He smiled warmly at the sight. For them. For them, he would do what had to be done. Win or lose, life or death, he would face Venerate.