Dýnami

chapter | one|

A jaguar, fierce and strong, with bright green eyes and a sleek, elegant, black body sat still on hind legs in the middle of an equally black and green forest. A clouded river. Fog and smoke clung to the base of the surrounding tress in a desperate embrace, refusing to let go, to be separated.

One blink. The scene is gone. Another and it has changed completely. What once was earth turned to fire. An active volcano in an unfamiliar place. Darkness suspended above the intimidating mountain. A tunnel to the center of the earth. Pure purification at its finest. The red lava bubbling down the sides like a waterfall in slow motion.

A blink. A waterfall. Rushing and crashing, slapping harshly against the pool below. Grey rocks covered in green moss guiding it's path. The flow so swift it was as if it stood still. Motion being deceived as motionless.

Nothing. Everything. Floating. A person, suspended in mid air by two massive grey and gold wings, looking down at the elements. The wind picks up, blowing the strands of their hair away from their face. Grey eyes burn with everything they are taking in. The past and present. The fourth deminsion and beyond. Hair that was once colorless in the beholder's eyes alight and bright with shades of blue. Ocean teal and space indigo, with every other shade in between. As if each strand had a secrete mission of varying degrees, doing a job of hiding the secrets he contained in his mind. Shielding unlimited knowledge from the rest of the world.

Grey eyes. Blue hair. Fire. Water. Earth. Air. Power.

One.

Dýnami's eyes flew open but he remained unmoving. The same dream every night for the past nineteen years. A persistent curse.

He sat up with a silent sigh. Never making a sound, rarely speaking. The silent storm waiting to be unleashed but fearing it's freedom, remained in willing chains.

Blue hair flops into his line of vision as he pushes himself out of bed. Pale skin, blue hair, grey eyes, him. The only thing he has ever been know as. The boy with the colorful appearance but black and white personality. As if they knew him. As if anyone did.

Another sigh is released as he knew sleep would not visit him again this night.

He contemplates just staying in his room, not wanting to disturb the peace of the house at rest but decides against it. It was to plain to hold his attention for longer than the time it took him to fall asleep or get dressed each day and he wasn't sure why he never did anything about it. A plain queen sized bed with black sheets, four white walls, a black wooden desk in the corner with golden knobs. A black book case with books he's read ten times over. A door to let the animal out of his cage, if he dared.

He walks to his mother's room. The story of his birth playing softly in the back of his mind. The storm. Always a storm with him.

That was the night his father died.

His mother didn't find out for another week. Struck by a falling tree while trying to make his way home during the disastrous conditions outside. Conditions his mother and he knew deep down his birth created but never vocalizing the shared knowledge, never wanting to solidify the belief. She was never the same. Always an arms length out of reach but determined to convince all parties that she was close enough that it wouldn't put a strain on their relationship. It did but he did not blame her. He knew that many things changed for the worse with his birth. His parents, just one of the consequences of his presence.