In the far land of Asxairo, off the distant ruins of the Rovien Sea lives a damnation to the kingdoms. She is something beyond the great bounds of the ancestors and the Gods. She is an unstoppable force and she has a mission to complete.
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The foul smell of the fruit markets welcomed Draco as he steadily rode his way into the heart of the poorer sections of Serius. The black horse he was mounted on, Cresa was her name, whined powerfully, her hooves pounding on the dirt littered earth.
The ride to the less fortunate parts of Serius took him longer than he had expected, almost two days through the treacherous downpours of the shadow nights and the howling winds flicking sand and stone into his face during the day.
Bugs and sharp-toothed creatures nipped at the leg of his pants and the skin of his knuckles, leaving bruises and marks when they were done feeding on him and the circling group of crows had been a little issue when his heightened eyes couldn't even see past their midnight wings.
At one point, he did consider letting his ever growing wings spread free and let himself soar into the sky. For one moment, he let himself consider what it would feel like to have the wind in his face, to have the taste of salt dance on his lips and his heart be one with the sky.
He let himself consider then he let himself down, choosing to just travel with his horse and push his wanting and desires to the back of his mind.
Raking his fingers through his hair, the master himself strode through the crowded square of Serius, looking everywhere with his dark ruby ringed eyes. The fruit market was a mess, precious food splattered on the floor and inviting several insects to gather around it, children scratching and sniffing themselves by the water fountain in an attempt to get clean and emerald colored water coating now gravel path his horse walked on.
Several stands were even destroyed and wrecked to pieces, the smell of rotten fruit and flesh mixed in with the incurable sight of blood and god knows what else meeting his nose and sight. Bile rose up in his stomach, threatening to shoot up his throat.
Yet Draco pressed his lips tightly and yanked on the gold chains of Cresa's reins. She neighed once again, kicking her hooves in the air before quickening her pace down the gravel stoned path, her tail swishing behind her. Eyes plastered to him as he walked among the common people, his heart swelling with pain and sympathy when his gaze landed on them.
Once upon a time, Draco himself knew what is was like to fight for survival. To be starving and alone in the cold night with no one to care for you and no one to bury your body when life finally left in a breath.
Shaking his head of the horrid thoughts, he held onto the reins of his horse, guiding her carefully through the crowd of people who directed their gaze at him in fear and awe, backing away into their stands as they did so.
A sigh left his lips. They would have been more surprised if he came strutting in with a long cloak and a golden crown placed upon his head.
He was glad he chose a more suitable outfit to blend in more with the crowd, a simple black shirt, and pants. His usual cloak was missing, a naked vulnerability creeping up on him as he told himself not to let his wings spread free.
