The Ghost of A Dragon's Touch

Playing With Fire

Ghost woke to a rhythmic tapping on his door. In instinct, he snatched up his now-dry cloak and draped it around his shoulders. He flipped up the hood as a younger Monk opened the door.

"I see you are awake, young Ghost. The Eldest is waiting for you in the main chamber." then she left, closing the door behind her. Ghost let out a breath, he knew what lay ahead; training.

He threw open the door, his cloak billowing behind him in a flowing black curtain. He stepped into the hallway and turned toward the main chamber, his shoes rapping in a rhythm on the stone floor as he walked. He glanced briefly at others as they passed him, continuing toward the chamber.

No doors blocked the hall from the mortar and slab temple, the room alight with hundreds of red and white-wax candles. Ghost stood at the doorway, taking in the atmosphere. It held a strong scent of ochre(pine pitch), cinnamon, and honeysuckle, the offering table full of the items. The Monks sat in a curved line around the statue and offering table, waiting for prayer. Ghost tapped the wall once with his nail, the Eldest Monk turning his head toward him.

"I see you received my message, yes? Come sit with us, child." he beckoned him over.

Kindly, Ghost made his way to the altar, kneeling before the statue with his head low. The Monks around him stood, chanting a deep passage that had been lost in time. It placed him in a trance, his mind swaying down a spiral until he seemed to leave his body entirely. He should've known they would try to do this, he could sense their intentions.

Now, as he wandered through a room of Darkness, he could hear the distant chants of the Monks. His head swam with images, most of his past, others of scenes that he'd never seen before. There were snippets of sky and earth, fire and water, each clashing like two dragons forever fighting for freedom.

One he grasped a hold of, but it struggled like a floundering bird. He held tight to it, it calming. Unfolding it, he gazed at the scene that lay before him. It was in the view of something flying, a large black creature standing in front of it. The creature's eyes were a bloody red, its skin smooth like an oil slick. The image had a fierce tone to it, as if the creature in the image was angry at the viewer. He released it, taking it to memory.

A flurry of images flew overhead in a curved line, heading into the far-off blackness. He watched them in curiosity, wondering just where they were going. He moved in their direction. The room continued to be empty, just a flat, dark space that seemed to lead on to forever. Ghost had never seen anything like it. And as he continued on, the images fell in number until only a few stragglers were left.

He continued on until he came to a mound of black tar, a few of the images stuck into it like trapped birds. He became cautious, creeping closer to the mound. He tilted his head to get a better look. The substance was indeed black, and as he touched it, extremely sticky. He recoiled in disgust.

The image-birds flapped helplessly in the ooze, making no noise but the crinkling of paper. He reached out to help one, a creature leaping onto the top of the mound from behind it. Ghost stepped back in alarm. This creature resembled the one in the image, but more slender of body, much like a feline. However, it was just as massive.

Hissing, its jaw opened wide at him. He didn't know what it was, but he couldn't run from it if it fought. Focusing his energy, his left iris turned a bright green, his other eye fading to complete black. The creature released a guttural roar, leaping at him. Ghost dodged, firing a ball of green spines at it as it landed, receiving an unearthly yowl. It swung its head around and snarled, turning on a massive paw to pounce.

Ghost fired another ball of spines, the creature dodging them with startling ease. Terrified, and full of adrenaline, Ghost ducked, forming a long sword blade. As the creature leapt over him, he slid underneath it, the blade pointed upward. It bit into the creature's flesh from its neck to the back of its hind legs, releasing another horrible yowl as it fell, motionless. He stood, facing the creature.

With a sigh of relief, his energy faded and his eyes returned to normal. Ghost felt drained, staggering as he fell, his eyes closing as his vision faded to white...

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SO! What do you all think so far? Ghost is a green pyro-energy-mancer. He just fell back into the depths of his fears in his own mind, but what happens when you tire in your own consciousness? Find out in the next part!

~Blood