The Ghost of A Dragon's Touch

Renewal

A voice drew Ghost back from the Darkness of his own being, holding him in their arms until his eyes were flooded with Light.

"Oh good Gods! He wakes!" a young Monk girl cried in relief.

With a groan of disgust, Ghost rolled onto his side and held himself up with his arms, drawing up his hood in reply. The girl's squeals became silent, the entire temple quiet as Ghost lifted himself to his feet. Only the sound of popping candle wax could be heard as he made his way back into his room, the eyes of the Monks following him as he went. They had seen his face, and they won't get the chance to see under his paint-mask. If anything, he would leave before that happened.

"Hey! Ghost, wait!" the girl was persistent.

He stopped in respect, turning slightly so he could see her.

"Yes?" he asked in a mild tone.

"Why do you hide your face? Are you ashamed of it?" she asked him with large blue eyes.

Ghost was appalled, never had anyone asked him why he hid his face. With a relaxing breath, he replied, "I hide my face to keep my past at bay... Even I don't remember what I look like underneath."

The girl instantly grew worried, "How long-"

"Much too long." Ghost turned away and walked into his room, closing the door with a soft thump.

He slouched on the bed as he sat, his head in his hands. A flood of distant and locked-up memories tore at Ghost's mind. Images he thought had gone missing began to burn his eyes with fresh tears. How dare that girl remind him of his clan? His brother? His buried mother? And the tyrant of a father that had made him leave? 

Quickly, he got up and shambled over to the reflective wash pool beside the dresser. He cupped a handful and splashed it on his face. The water turned white and grey, sending colored tendrils swirling into the clear water. He repeated his actions until the water was clouded and his face was clean. In the polished stone mirror, he could finally see himself as he was. Staring back at him was a tan boy with a slightly squared jaw, bright green eyes, and dark shaggy hair. Along his jaw, a long scar circled his left ear and snaked down to his lower lip. Ghost stared at his old self in envy, if only he could keep his face shown. But since he looked exactly like his father, he could never show it to anyone.

He turned toward his bag, pulling out two containers of homemade paints. One black, one white. Opening them both, he skillfully plastered the mask back on, looking back into the mirror. The familiar skull-faced stranger stared back at him with a glare. He preferred this boy over the weak tyrant's son.

A knock on his door startled him and he quickly hid the paints in his bag. The eldest Monk stepped in with a high air.

"Ghost. I need to speak with you in my chamber." and he waited for him.

Ghost reluctantly agreed, following him up a set of stone stairs into a large roofed balcony. The air was warm thanks to a large fire in the center, casting a warm glow about the room. The eldest sat on a log near the fire, motioning for Ghost to join him. He did, sitting beside him with his legs crossed.

"What is it you wish to speak to me about?"

"So mature for a boy your age, aren't you?" Ghost stilled, his eyes on the fire. "Don't think I didn't trace your memories while you were in that trance. Those images you saw were my own memories."

"Yours? I knew they weren't familiar..."

"Yet you don't question the trance. Smart."

"How do you know my age?"

The old man laughed, "It's not hard, child. You can hide your face, but not your scars."

Ghost swallowed, "They're not from my personal doing."

The Monk nodded, "I figured as much." he reached behind a wicker basket and brought forth a bowl of stones. They were all black and crumbled easily. He picked one or two out and tossed them into the fire, the scent of flowers filling the air.

"Do you know what I can do?" Ghost asked, his eyes still on the flickering logs.

The Monk set the bowl aside, "I've seen it, yes. But not from you. It was from another."

"Another?" Ghost looked at the Monk, "Who was this other?"

The Monk smiled, shaking his head. "You are still a curious child, aren't you?" he gave a wheeze of a laugh, "The other wasn't a man."

"Not a man?"

"No. He was what we call a Shifter. A creature tied to both human and animal forms. He could bend green energy at his will, until his demise soon after he left here."

Ghost understood, he had heard stories back in his clan of the Man of Gargoyles. He was said to have the ability to shift into the ugly Gargoyle that stood guard at the gates. But he knew not to believe in such child's tales.

"Ghost." He looked at the Monk, "Are you willing to stay here?"

Ghost nodded, "I was planning on it, yes."

"Then you must work to keep your lodgings." Ghost's jaw dropped, but before he could protest, the old man cackled happily, "If you are to eat our food and sleep in our bed, you must work to earn your keep. And last I checked, we haven't had anyone here in quite some time. So there's plenty to do. Tomorrow, you set to work. Understood?"

With a new heavy burden and a new motivation, Ghost sighed, "Understood, sir..."

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A/N So, now Ghost has made a new home, and a new discovery. The Eldest Monk is a deceiving old man with a kind heart and energized spirit. Looks like our friend will have some work to do!

~Blood