"Azriel, get down here!" yelled a woman. A boy opened his door, rage fueling his every step. "What is it?!" he yelled. His mother stomped upstairs. Well, she wasn't his birth mother. She was his adoption mother.
His biological mother had died in a car accident three years ago. After that, he had developed a rage towards the world. He hated it. "I want you to meet someone. I really like him, so don't screw this up. Got it?" she hissed at him. Azriel simply snorted and slammed his room door again.
"I hate this place!" he yelled into a pillow. He was laying in his bed, which took up half of his small room. He was angry, sleepy, and in pain. He was having another migraine, which usually followed with weird visions. He decided to take a nap and see if it would wear off with rest. He slipped off into a numb slumber.
His dreams were filled with what seemed like memories. There was a man swinging a woman who was on a swing. The scene was calm, so calm. He looked at the woman. She reminded him of a friend. He felt a weight in his chest. She was dead too, sadly. She had taken her own life. He felt numb and dead when he had witnessed it, unable to save her.
The man seemed to have noticed Azriel. "Hello, Azriel" said that man. Azriel looked up at the man. "How do you know my name?" he asked the man. The man laughed. "So you're my descendant, eh?" he asked with a smile. Azriel stared at him in confusion.
"Descendant? You must have the wrong person, sir" he said politely. The man shook his head. "The gods of old foretold of you, Azriel. Have you never heard of the prophecy?" he asked.
Azriel shook his head. It was the man's turn to be confused. "Want to hear it?" he asked Azriel. Azriel nodded. "It goes like this. The son of the shadows shall rise again, foretold to stand against all odds. He shall either help the world or destroy it with Death's flames. The role of the dark king shall be untold, and the one who wields the light shall destroy The dark world..." he finished.
Azriel stared. The Dark King? Who the hell was that? Son of shadows? Was that a name or were they referring to his dead mother? She was technically a shadow, since she was dead. She was nothing but the shadow of a memory. Was she? Azriel shook all the thoughts out of his head. The man looked at Azriel, understanding his confusion. "I am Shadow, Azriel" he said
Azriel looked up. He was related to him? "So I'm your descendant?" Azriel asked uncertainly. Shadow nodded. "Son of the shadows..." Azriel quoted. "You're supposed to be the one that changes the course of history. You see, all of my descendants have died during the final battle. You're destined to live" Shadow told him.
Azriel felt strangely powerful now. "What do I have to do?" he asked Shadow. Shadow smiled. "Accept fate and take The Drakensang" he said. He stretched out his hand and a sword appeared in it. Azriel reached out and grabbed it. With a flash, he remembered everything. His old lives, his past reincarnations, everything.
He woke up from the dream, still remembering everything. He looked at his hand and saw the sword. He remembered from his past lives and what the sword could do. What he could do too. He summoned his sword and spun it. He thought of a katana and when he saw, the sword was now a katana. He smiled and looked at his arm. He thought of claws and scales. He looked at his arm and saw the scales and claws. He smiled for the first time after his mom and friend died. He ran out the window and thought of wings. He flew away, not even leaving a note.
YOU ARE READING
Rise Of The Shadowraven
Ação14 year old Azriel has had a rough life. Life gets even harder when he discovers that he is related to the outcast hero of the olden days, Shadow. Using his new found abilities, it's his job to stop an event that could destroy not just destroy his u...