Fated - Book 1 (Completed)

Chapter 16

Small, pale, and soft fingers were lazily hugging my waist; her full weight was against me, but I barely felt it. The words she muttered were utter lies, but I couldn't bring myself to call her out on them. Instead, my eyes danced up from her hands and over to the sleeping village below.Few houses had dancing flames that littered the grounds below; the roads were barely lit; it was approaching midnight from the looks of things. Despite the hour, my mind was racing; the council had a spy, and possibly more. Now my bride wanted to know about the darkest hour of my life.The one thing I would never wish on another is the pain I endured during that month, the nightmares I faced, and the torture I had to endure. A pain no child should ever have to go through that type of terror, and now she wants to know all about it."I was eight years old."The little body wrapped around me tensed slightly. It wasn't from the warm spring breeze that washed over us; it was due to my own body pulling tight at the sudden memory."I was a small, weak child, frail in comparison to most of the boys in my combat class."As a rider and a royal, I had to train in etiquette, combat, and rider training. I had a full daily and evening schedule written out for me; even my meals were planned to the second."No matter how much training I did, I never grew stronger; I never gained enough weight to wear the armour of our junior warriors; I was just simply weak."A thin smile crossed my lips at a fond memory."Aziel had been with us for a few months by the time I started my training; despite being a royal, he would tease me and bully me until I let out my dragon's rage; he said it was the only way to get me to somewhat exhibit some strength."The little being behind me held down a chuckle, but I could feel her body vibrate against me as she tried her best to hold it down."I wasn't the only one who was small compared to the others; my father's second general's grandson was part of my group; he was about the same size as me, but he was older, at least by two years; he was what they call a bloomer déanach."My small smile melted at the memory of the boy. My fingers curled and dug into the stone bannister. I had to draw in a sharp breath to cool the flickering flame in my core. He was a small boy for his age, but his dragon, Gaoth, was massive despite only being a year or two old at the time."It baffled everyone how a small creature like Home could control his massive blue dragon. It was a sight to see how this gentle giant was mastered by someone so small; to be honest, if he were still alive, he would have been larger than Neim."She coiled around me at the mention of my dragon. The beast frightened her, but he was in love with her very existence. I don't blame him."Riders are most vulnerable when they are children; our bond is at its strongest and weakest. We don't have much control over our dragons or their magic that burns at our core, so the elders place a small spell on us that breaks away as we age."Having the spell cast on you is easy and simple. It was the breaking of the seals that hurt—a sudden rush of that power coursing through your body. It felt like a piece of paper was slicing through every nerve in your body."So, at a young age, we were naive and excited to have that power running through us; the idea of manipulating fire with just a simple thought made us excited; we would spend hours talking about what we would do with that power."More fond memories flooded my mind; his big smile and even bigger dreams of being the next best rider general washed over me. A sickening sensation followed soon after."We were alone in the fields one day, our dragons fluttering above us. Serina was small at the time; she was only a quarter of her current size, but she was always near me, watching me carefully as a mother does with their firstborn."As I spoke about my first dragon, the small hands on me tensed. She truly was afraid of dragons; what a pity. I enjoy having her with me when I fly."We spoke about breaking one of the seals on our own so that we could learn how to use the dragon's magic quicker and master it sooner than any rider had at that age; we weren't aware that we weren't alone."The memory of the witch standing in the golden grass, her bright red hair dancing in the wind, her matching lips curled into a warm, welcoming smile, and her eyes glistening with her magic stained my mind. As children, we were mesmerised by the woman's beauty and the obvious magic in her amethyst eyes."The high priestess was there, listening to our stories. At the time, I never feared her existence; now that I think about it, I must have been so entranced by her words that I never saw the threat in her eyes."The woman's beauty was something to gaze at; I was lost in it, so lost that I never noticed the spell that she was wrapping around us."We were lost at her sweet words and her promises to help us, to show us how to release our full power and take complete control over it. We believe her, so, in essence, we allowed her in."The little body behind me placed a soft kiss in the middle of my back as my voice trailed. That day, the priestess cast a spell on us, and it still haunts my dreams and memories. Even now, I could see the shadow of the woman from the corner of my eye; her lips twisted into a sweetly cruel smile."Before either of us knew it, we were in the western black forest; it smelt like death; the ground under our feet crunched and seemed to cry with every movement we made. She had lured us back to her home, a cabin in the western woods."Although the forest was dying around us, the little cabin was surrounded by life. The grass was lush green, and strange flowers bloomed up the wooden walls. Birds and butterflies fluttered around freely, playing under the sun.At the time, all of my senses were focused on nothing but the cabin, but as I aged, I could remember the dying forest around it; it was all an illusion."The cabin smelt good; it was filled with treats—to be more exact, all of our favourite sweets, pastries, and even sweet fruits. We were so in love with her words and offers that while we ate, we assumed that we were simply tired from filling our bellies."A small smile crossed my lips; they were good treats. Any child would have followed the woman and never batted an eyelash."It was sunset by the time we fell asleep; I remember the hour since it was the last thing I saw through the clear window. We woke up feeling sick, dizzy, and utterly confused; we now found ourselves in cold steel cages. Alone."The memory of the whispering winds filled my mind once again."From what I could see, we were in our own cages, in a stone room, and the only source of light and fresh air was from the doorless archway that led to what at the time I could only assume was the throne room."A stale tase rolled up my chest as those memories rushed back, and the shadow figure beside us greyed sharper in shape as the most painful memories flooded my mind."Being the eldest and with the largest dragon, he was taken first; it was the last time I ever saw him alive."Small fingers dug into my bare torso as she prepared herself for my nightmare."I could hear his cries and screams all day; I would shout until my throat was raw, and even then, I would still call for him and beg for the witches to stop their sadistic game. For three days, I had to listen to him crying for his dragon."My body ached from the warm breeze, and then I realised I was barely breathing. I drew in a sharp, deep breath. The warm air made its way through my teeth and down my chest, and once I finally released it, it left me with a low whistle."Our dragons were being held captive; to this day, no one can tell me how she subdued us and our dragons without causing them enough fear to fight back. All I could do was sit there and listen as his dragon cried and howled for his master's pain to end."I had to pull in another deep breath; this time her small hands found themselves over my chest so that she could hold me tighter and flow with my body as I took in a clean breath and released it with a whistle."On the third day, that's when his cries stopped. Just suddenly they stopped; not a single sob rocked through those cold walls."My chest pulled tight at the noise that ran through my memories."As I drew a breath, the most heart-wrenching scream rocked through the room's stone walls, and it didn't stop. He screamed like that for what felt like hours. The noise he made made me feel sick to my very core. I felt so ill that I regurgitated the small remnants of the sweets in my stomach."The vile sensation rolled up my chest at the bitter thoughts."His screams were mixed with Gaoth's sudden cries; the cage I was in shook under the beast's tears; the noises they made reminded me of a pig being gutted or cooked alive; and slowly those horrid cries were replaced with these sickening wet-ripping noises."The all-too-familiar sound of a blade hacking at flesh filled my mind; the sound of the gold-rimmed blade ripping through flesh and pumping blood made me feel ill and dizzy on my feet."I remember crying myself to sleep as the words of our history books filled my small head. A witch gains youth and the dragon's ability to control magic when she devours the hearts of a young rider and their dragon. What made me cry wasn't the loss of a friend or his cruel death; it was the cheering I heard through the night as the ritual was a success."Soft lips pressed against me once more; she had buried her face into my back, sobbing quietly as I spoke. The small being wanted to hear the story but was now holding down her sobs for the loss of a friend she had never had the opportunity to laugh with."For days I begged for the witches to release me, but all they did was bring me food and water, enough just to keep me alive. You see, the high priestess wanted to have both of us gain the power of the largest adolescent dragon at the time and, most importantly, the strength my bloodline carries. She wanted the bond that I had buried deep in me—the ability to bond with several dragons and have no effect of their magic on my body, soul, or mind."The story of the first rider came to mind. My fourth great-grandfather had three, possibly more, dragons; the records weren't clear, but he was never broken through his multiple bonds.There were many prophecies over the years, and my father was no different; he was one of those who believed to be able to hold multiple bonds, but he struggled with making his one bond. The night of my birth, the elders were at a loss and riddled with confusion. My sister and I both had eyes that resembled those of a dragon.Our pupils were narrow slits, and our Iris' were the shade of a smokey white; they believe the colour was the shade of the first dragon that helped create the skies above us and the earth below us."I tried my best to keep track of how long they had kept me locked up, but I struggled to tell time, but one day it all changed. I was pulled out of the cold room and rolled into the throne room; it was filled with light that burned my eyes and skin."My throat grew dry suddenly at the sensation my memories created. The shadow beside me now had taken its full form, and the high priestess stood there watching me with her twisted, sadistic, toothy grin."The high priestess was on her throne, watching me as others pushed my cage to where I would sit for days. The white stone altar that was sitting near her seat wasn't cleaned; it was riddled with blood that dripped down its sides; some of it had spilt on the floor; it was never cleaned from its previous occupant; she left it as it was for a month."My mind's eye could picture the stone table growing from the grey stone floor; it seemed to glow under the light, despite the red mess over it. My eyes were locked on the object constantly, never breaking away; that was where she slaughtered them."She never spoke to me, not once while I was her captive. That kind woman we met in the fields was now a heartless killer, watching me, studying me, and planning how she could make me cry. For days I had to endure being sliced with her specialised blade."A spike from an ichneumon, drizzled in golden art, is the witch's choice of weapon. As I stood there in the warm arms of my wife, I could feel every cut she made on my body."Princess, do you know how to leave a scar on a dragon?"I felt shame as I asked her that question, but when she shook her head against my back, that feeling was washed over with utter relief."There is a beast in the west; they call it an ichneumon, a nasty little monster. They have grown to be at least half the size of an adult dragon, but they weigh just as much as one. They have these thick, long spikes that grow from the top of their mains; these spikes have a natural spell wrapped in them, one that creates poison when it comes into contact with warm, flowing blood."My chest ached again at the memories of fighting one of these beasts and how Neim was injured as he tried to protect me; he was marked just like me."You see, the high priestess has always had two of them as pets, and one day asked the male beast to give her one of his spikes; the beast complied and gave her several. The high priestess would watch the ichneumon and untamed dragons fight and noticed that the dragons would bleed and scar from one of the spikes stabbing them."My fingers dug into the stone under me as a heated sensation grew in my chest."She knew from experience that dragons are weak when touched by gold, and now she had the spike that made them bleed. Armed with her knowledge, she had a blacksmith create these spike blades, which she uses as weapons against dragons."I have never been able to understand the woman's hatred for the beats; they have lived peacefully with the witches, and the dragons would play with their children. Yet something happened to make her turn into this monster that craved power and control over the magic of Endora."I can remember every slice she made on my skin, every chuckle she made; it stung at first, but as the wound bled, my body would shake as an ice-cold sensation would run over my body; it felt as if I were being burned alive, but I was shaking from the cold. As soon as I would cry from the pain, she would mutter a healing spell that closed my wound but left behind the poison."The warmth of her shifted slightly, and as I turned my head to gaze at her from over my shoulder, I saw the high priestess standing there with her blade in one hand and a small beating heart in the other. The poison that I drank days ago was gone, but its effects were plaguing my already damaged mind with images of the high priestess coated in blood."Although she healed me, I could still feel the cold pain running under the surface of the wound. For days she did this, cutting at my skin, then healing me; there were hours when younger witches took over her torture and continued to slice at me while she rested and watched."The laughter and smiles filled my mind as my eyes drifted over the village below us. The little body shifted once again, but this time she pulled herself in closer. I could feel her tears run from her eyes and then smear down her cheeks, where they were buried against my back."I counted the days as they passed. I played memories of my loved ones over and over in my mind to keep me lucid as the days and nights dragged on. The slicing and healing went on for almost a week. It was the night of the full moon when she finally allowed them to pull me from my cage."My body shook slightly as another breeze washed over us. It was warm, but my body felt cold and wet from my words."The night she pulled me out of my cage was more than the full moon; it was a blue moon, the time a witch's magic is at its weakest. I only noticed as I was being dragged to the table that Serina was in the room with us; she was crying through a muzzle. They had chained her to the stone ground and wrapped her snout in leather bonds, muffling the cries she would have let out as she felt my pain and was forced to watch."The sight of my first dragon crying broke my heart even now. Unlike Neim Serina, who has a sleek and smaller build, her eyes are a bright purple, and her scales are a mix of whites and light blues. She was small but damn fast; her sleek build allowed her to slice through the winds; and her large wings gave her a powerful boost, making her almost impossible to catch.Sweet memories of the creature made me smile slightly before I continued to rip at my bride's already aching heart."I can still remember the cold stone on my back and the sound of my skin brushing against the dried blood. The sickening smell of rotten flesh filled my nose instantly. I tried my best to play back memories of my loved ones as the cold, searing pain returned. This time, though it was worse, the blade was pushed down deeper, and the healing spells were muttered faster."The cold feeling of her blade slicing my skin washed over me; it felt as if she was cruelly slicing me all over again. Aurora's small fingers automatically pulled away from my torso and found their new home on my lower back, away from the grotesque mark running up my body."She tore at my skin slowly, digging deeper to rip at more flesh. She muttered her spells over my screams. My throat was dry and pulling tight, but I had to scream. I couldn't bite the pain down this time. I was begging for death by the time she reached the end of her trail, under my eye."My hand darted towards my face immediately; rough, patchy skin was under my fingers as I gently traced the edge that sat under my eye. I saw blood once she was done, but I didn't plan to tell my bride that the woman blinded me with my blood and tears."Her spells suddenly changed; the tongue she was muttering in was a lost language, one I had never heard; the spell she spoke was also lost magic. The bloody tip of the blade touched the space of my heart; I could feel it pierce my skin and draw small droplets of blood, but it all suddenly was replaced by the witches screeching and crying for help."My lips curled at the sudden cries and roaring of a familiar dragon."My uncle Aaron had flown over the village; his dragon Eagal, was screeching as he released his black flames around the witch's home. The sound of her bare feet running on the stone floor was the last I heard from her. The presence of her darkness was replaced by the gentle touch of my uncle Dante."The memory was sharp as if it had just happened; familiar bright blue eyes and a face riddled with relief were leaning over me. I could see his lips move, but no words reached my lips."My uncles had spent the whole time looking for us; once they received word of a body being found in the river, it was my father who ordered them to raid the high priestess coven and to kill anyone who got in their way."The sensation of relief washed over me; my shoulders suddenly eased, and somehow I was breathing better—better than I ever had—as I started to conclude my story for my whimpering bride."A small body that was sliced into ribbons was found the morning that they rescued me. My father insisted on looking at the body; he recognised the marks of torture and the missing organ that was ripped out while it was still beating. By that evening, my uncles had finally reached me, right before my own beating heart would have been ripped from my chest."Not skipping a beat, I spun around and wrapped myself around my sobbing bride. Once I held her, she allowed her tears to flow and her cries to escape her sweet lips. All I could do was stand there and hold her as the images flooded her mind.We stood there in the warm breeze as I cradled her shaking body. Her arms were dropped to her side as I held her tight, and her sobs rolled into my ear. Her cries made my heart ache, and my tears rolled down my cheeks.My tears weren't for the loss of a friend or my pain; they were for relief, as this was the first time I had ever told anyone what had happened to me all those many years ago."Dionysus is the name of my third dragon and the name of the friend I lost many years ago, whose dream I still carry to this day."