Birth of a Crimson Feather

☼WHEAT GOLDENLOCK☼

At the distance, close to the entrance of the Blue Desert, stood a beautiful male creature. White as snow, with piercing yellow eyes and long blonde hair that reached the back of his knees even when he was not sitting. His hair was braided in small braids at the top and fastened with a small gold teardrop-looking ornament. On his left arm, he was holding a magnificent-looking crow, black as the long nights of winter but with an emerald green hue decorating its feathers.

"Well well, look at her! She is acting like nothing can toucher her. She is so clueless..."

The beautiful creature looked rather displeased and took a moment to utter a small sigh while sitting on a golden rag that he placed on top of the sandy ground.

"I walked so much and prepared myself for an easy task when she is here with a dragon mutt? Smiling and sightseeing? That old man never spoke a word about dragon people, and her being close with one?!"

Wheat's answer never came, instead, his crow provided its feedback as if he was annoyed by his master's question: "I am trying to think here and you keep murmuring over and over. Please stop your yapping and let's think what our next move is going to be, Wheat!"

Rax was an intelligent crow, and what he wanted to say he would say no matter the cost. Wheat took him in his care when he was little, he was always bored and thought a pet would be a nice change for him. And Rax was a nice change, he always had someone to talk to, but there were times when he would have to threaten him so he would close his beak. Such was his love for banter, that he would wake Wheat up to chit-chat in the middle of the day.

"That is MY line! But by all means, go ahead, and think of something that could help us in this situation. But I doubt you will be able to come to a conclusion when you never were fully clued in the details that old man gave me."

Wheat was right and it was not the first time he gave his pet crow a reason to shut his beak up. He stood up and started revisiting his memories, the things that man told him about Cassandra's father, and how grand her bloodline was. He was so excited to drink her blood that he did not actually think at the moment. He went with his instinct, he was a powerful vampire after all, so why was his mission so difficult to complete? That was the one thing that was making him lose control, stutter, and fiddle with his hair, a habit he inherited from his mother.

"How is this even happening? First, I throw away 200 golden arrowheads to find the location of Thurston Nevil and his daughter. Then I arrive and no one is present on the premises?" He scoffed while kicking a small pile of sand. " I should have known I would be met with this predicament when I first learned about her father."

Wheat exclaimed while flipping a piece of hair that was stuck on his face.

"This day is ruined, dragon people are not to be messed with when they are protecting others. What on bloody hell should I do now?"

Even with his powerful presence, his good looks, and the way his yellow eyes could put you into a deep sleep, he knew he could not reveal himself at the moment. He had prepared for one measly witch in training, but he was met with a dragon boy, a dragon boy that looked very familiar but he could not make his mind up as to why. Maybe he has threatened his mother before? Male dragons usually take their looks from their mother.

But no, no, it could not be that. Wheat never left anyone alive if he was in the middle of threatening. He knew he had to always eat well and pass the dead folks to the ⧫ALASTORS because they always knew what to do with the dead man's blood. Wheat looked down on them, him being from one of the biggest vampire clans, the ⧫ICHORS, he always saw them as dogs and nothing more.

Some thought it was because ⧫ALASTORS had to drink dead man's blood to survive and others thought it was because they lost their immortality every full moon. In any case, Wheat saw them as a weak clan, an unworthy bloodline that no one wanted to be born in. But he had to give them props for something. They always cleaned up the mess, every time he had to conceal a powerful mage's death, he knew he could count on them. And unfortunately for the mages, the murders would never stop, as long as the Ortygian guild and that old man wanted more power, he would have to keep his end of the bargain.