The Ghost of A Dragon's Touch

The Ghost Among the Kind

He sits at the top of the steps leading up to the temple entrance, his eyes hidden beneath a shroud of black silk. It pools at his feet, a small portion of Darkness in the torrent of rain. He lets the wind billow the cloak behind and around him, forming a dark flag against the stone. The cloak back held the insignia of a large group of assassins, the snake's jaws open slightly. He didn't care nor notice, as the shivering cold swept beneath his clothes to chill his pale skin.

Raindrops dig runnels in the dirt that streaked his face. His eyes shone dark under the hood. He was watchful, seeking the Monks of Light amidst the rain. He never faltered, even when the thunder roared above. It reminded him much of a dragon's voice. Lightning illuminated the semi-night, the clouds dark against the sky. A shine appeared in his eyes, the light fading.

He watched as a darker line moved from the village toward the temple, not bothering to hide himself. He wanted to be noticed, having to seek out the Monks for a new, better life. His clan had attempted to initiate him at a too-young age. He had escaped that night, travelling far to find this place. Now he awaits to be accepted into the temple, the Monks approaching.

They stopped around him, speaking in soft tones to one another. He caught snippets of their conversation, saying nothing. At last, the eldest looked at him and clasped his shoulder, leading him inside. The huge, delicately carved oaken doors slid silently open, warmth escaping out in a huff of air, as if a great beast lay within.

The doors closed tight behind them, candle flames standing upright as the air stood still once more. Warmth made his cloak steam, the rain having soaked it with cold. Still, he didn't shed the burden. The eldest Monk stood in front of him, relaxed. The boy could see in his eyes that he was a wise and powerful old man.

He spoke with a strong voice, "What are you seeking here, child?"

"Sanctuary." he replied, bowing slightly. "My clan wished to recruit me as a warrior far too soon..."

The old Monk nodded, "Then let it that you live here. But, we must know your name."

The boy hesitated, he didn't wish to reveal his name. But it was a must, "I am known as Ghost."

"Ghost. It does quite suit you, doesn't it? Come. Let us find you a free bed." he turned toward the large altar, a golden statue of the fabled Light Dragon watching over the temple with empty ruby eyes. Her feathered wings are spread across the back wall, her talons clutching the tattered flag of the Barren, her jaws open in a silent, never-ending roar. But no teeth were shown against her great maw, as she was a keeper of Peace in Dark times. Ghost knew this much.

Before following the man, he bowed in respect of the goddess dragon. And as thunder rolled outside, he gave a thought to that as a reply from her.

The living quarters were large stone chambers, each individual room at least ten feet tall. The stone dome ceiling was held up by pillars of iron, each carved with symbols and a single, twisting dragon up to the tops. The only light came from a paper lantern dangling from a cord in the center of the dome. It cast a golden glow about the room, no shadows to be seen. On the far wall from the door, there hung a tapestry with the Light Dragon standing upright, her wings spread wide.

"You may stay here, child. I wish you good night. If you need us, we will be in the main chamber." the Monk closed the door behind him, leaving Ghost to his own affairs.

He shrugged off the rain-heavy cloak and hung it on a post of the oak bed. Stretching, he straightened his shirt and loose pants, making sure they were dry. Sure enough, they were, allowing him to unshoulder his leather-bound pack. Opening it, he took out a small scroll of beaten papyrus, unrolling it with a smile. The image was of him and his faithful serpent, Montok. He was a small thing, only a hatchling. Ghost placed it on the dresser beside the half-melted candle stubs from the previous tenant.

Soon the bag was empty, everything placed where it belonged. The only thing that wasn't was a small stone. It lay on his bed, shimmering in the dim light. The stone itself was a bright sickly green, the center inside a darker green, as if the stone was an ancient eye cast in fire then melded into stone. This was his prized possession, given to him by his older brother. That was, until his brother left him for the Clan.

Ghost grasped it tight, placing in underneath his spare shirts in the top drawer. With a sigh, he glanced in the still pool of water beside the dresser, looking over his face. Painted on it was a skull, giving him the appearance of Death. Black around his eyes, nose, mouth and neck were meant as the Darkness that all men fall to, the white the Light they seek in Life. He turned toward the bed and lay length-ways, his arms behind his head.

He stared at the ceiling for hours, contemplating what his goal was for tomorrow. When he came to a conclusion, he closed his eyes. Soon, he fell into the sweet warm darkness of sleep.

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So! What do you all think? I figured I'd create the back story to my beloved child Ghost. I plan to continue this book.

Also, sorry for lack of updates on the third HerobrineXReader book... I've lost all inspiration to continue like I'd planned... sorry.

-Blood