SINGED

Cayn’s blood pounds in my ears laced with the power granted him by the Dragonking. But the Dragonking always lies, never doubt this. Even his blood lies.

Yet I always believe him, he is so convincing, his will is so strong, it re-creates your life in his image, according to his desires.

Right now, his blood surges through my veins, filling me with the same power that drove Caynmad. Unimaginable power, promising to deliver me my greatest desires. I can do anything. His will is my will, and I believe, no I know I can even save Miranda, of course I can. What’s more this is my power. The Dragonking’s blood had only awakened by own power, but I am young. I must feed to become stronger. It is Cayn’s blood just as much as the Dragonking’s that makes me swoon.

I drink deep until there is nothing left. Cayn lies cold and white on the floor, as pale as the marble sarcophagus behind which I feed. I am not satisfied, in fact I am ravenous, starving for more. I tear open Cayn’s chest, eat his heart and liver. Yes, I can feel it. I am stronger, closer to being able to change into a real Dragon, a true Dragon.

This was a lie, the terrible lie the blood told. It was human blood and flesh not the Dragonking’s blood, it said. I was meant to feed on them. It was like the lie of my birthright. I simply knew I was first. I was meant to lead. Love is a lie was a lie. Dragon’s strength came from feeding on humans; a lie.

I must have fallen asleep, swooning in dreams of flying through the sky for when I crawled, covered in Cayn’s blood, out of the tomb, it was night. It was always night now, but it was just as well. It helped hide me as I crept through crypts and down to the sea where I washed away the blood.

Yet the blood remained upon my hands; could not be washed away. I was no longer human though I wore a human face. Now it was truly only a disguise. I was a monster, cold and numb. I’d grown beyond the pain and I no longer even wanted to remember. Even if I had not seen the Miranda hawk fall with Cayn’s arrow embedded in her chest, she was still dead to me.

“Don’t come back again,” I pleaded. “I’m gone too. The Brand you knew is dead too.”

And thus began my next phase of evolution. I lived among men, but I was a revenant, a haunted vestige. I stalked dark alleys, dragging my prey into the sewers when the tide went out or into the crypts. I continued to wear the stolen garments, but I did not change or clean them anymore as men do. I let them decay, becoming filthy rags.

At first, I only hunted murderers and hardened criminals, seeing the blood they spilt in their thoughts, but after a while I fed on whoever crossed my path.

Yet as I hunted something was hunting me. I could feel eyes upon me even when I was deep within the catacombs. Sometimes I caught glimpses of hooded figures that vanished before I could apprehend them. Sometimes I could sense terror that could only be caused by the Dragonking’s presence and I knew he was watching me.

Once when I dared return to the abandoned house the concealed the tunnel into Dragon’s Lair, I saw the glow of embers in the shadows as someone smoked a pipe and I made out the single eye, the dark square that covered the other. It was Patch, but he vanished as soon as I turned to regard him. Then the ominous presence returned.

“It’s good to see you, lad,” the motherly matron said. “I thought of you often. I’m glad no harm came to you. Yet you do look worn. Let me get you a bite to eat.”

I had not seen her since the day Alister abducted me, yet she remembered me.I raised a hand to wave her away.

“No, no please stay away,” I croaked. I had not spoken to anyone in several moons and my voice sounded strange to me.

“I have not been well. I…must go.”

I turned away, lost myself in the gloom before she could respond, before I hungered.Why had I spared her? I pushed away the question and fell upon the next vagrant I saw to wash away the memory of her with his blood.

I had drained him and was eating his warm throbbing heart when I saw the boy. It was the urchin with the brilliant blue eyes and the copper curls. He was standing at the mouth of the alley, hand upon the cold stone wall, frowning at me. He did not seem afraid, but somehow, he appeared sad, disappointed. I glowered back at him for a flicker of a flame, blood dripping from my fangs. Then he was gone, and a shadow seemed to fall upon me though I was already cloaked in shadows.

I’d come to call it the Shadow of the Dragonking. It left me unsettled and fearful, each time it came, something seemed to draw closer, some dire moment, when I could no longer escape. The Dragonlord would snap me up as he had Alister. My days were numbered. If I waited to discover the nature of the trap, it would be too late.