Re-Discovered

{1} Fractured

Re-Discovered
{1} Fractured

“How could you, what have you done?! What kind of monster are you?!”

    He jerked awake, his sheets falling off the corners, and the blanket sprawled on the floor, his mute Scottish terrier sat at the end of the bed, looking at him with concern. “It’s okay Bastet, just that weird nightmare again.” He got up, shivering at the coldness in his dorm, and put on a pair of ragged jeans littered with a rainbow of paint specks. Pulling on a shirt, he walked up to Bastet, patting him on the head, “I’ll be back in a few hours, behave now.” He laughed at himself, “I’m so glad I got a mute dog, and a smart one too, or else I wouldn’t be able to have you here.” He smiled and headed for the dorm room door that read “MOROS THORNE”, his dark ginger hair bouncing slightly.
   
“Go, go away! Leave me alone! Monster! MONSTER!”
   
    “MOROS THORNE!” A monsterous voice broke through his daydream.
    “What, uh, huh, yeah, here.” Moros stuttered, embarrassed. The class chattered with sarcasm and giggles that slowly died down as the ex-navy teacher glared across the room.
    “Mr. Thorne, would you like to explain to me, and the class, why you ignored me?” His heavy African accent slithered out of his mouth.
“Uhm, I didn’t mean to, I was unfocused.” Moros continued to studder, his words almost silent, “I’m sorry, Mr. Voodou.” He picked up his pencil, anxiously tapping it on the desk lightly.
“All right, now don’t do it again.” Mr. Voodou said, in his seemingly endlessly deep voice, then continued on with the actually endlessly boring biology lesson on the anatomy of some odd animal that lived near the Cape of Good Hope. Moros began to doze off again.

“Scales the color of blood, wings as raggedy as torn flesh, claws earily scraping against marble floors, a whiplike tail covered in barbed spikes, jaws and body as strong as a team of oxen, teeth as sharp as a sword's edge, and breath the smell of rotten flesh…. Moros will come again.”

Moros opened his eyes, broken out into a cold sweat, the length of the dream, the detail, and the fact that it spoke his name, scared him out of his skin. Mr. Voodou was still talking monotonically about the anatomy of fish, he hadn’t been asleep that long, although it felt like forever. Quietly, Moros got up, carefully putting his notebook back into his bag, and put it on his back, “Mr. Voodou,” he began softly, “I need to use the bathroom.”
Mr. Voodou turned around and looked at him dead in the eyes, his bald head shining under the ceiling lights, “Class is almost over, Mr. Thorne, so you may take your bag, but remember there is a test on the anatomy of sea creatures tomorrow. You may leave.” He turned back around, waving Moros off and continued his lecture.
As Moros stepped out of the classroom, something urged him to the opposite direction, and Moros, in a dazed and shaken state, didn’t do much to resist. His college was an old medieval castle, refurbished for the 20th century, and again for the 21st, yet it still kept most of its antique looks, such as seals of a knight fighting a dragon carved on the doors, and stained glass of Christian Saints in the windows. The feeling he was following, however, brought him down a dark corridor with only one door at the end and a torch next to it in a scone. As he walked up to the door, he noticed the engraving was different. This one had a boy and a dragon, no swords, no fire, only the two engravings staring at each other, “What the…” Moros put his hand on the door and traced the outline of the boy, he was tall, with subtle muscles that had soft curves, the carving’s head had hair that flowed to his shoulders, his nose was a soft curve, and his mouth curled into a small smirk. He moved his hand to the dragon, its body was covered in little nicks, either scales or spikes, and its horns were curly and thick, and more sprouted in a steadily decline of length down its jaw line, its teeth were ragged, almost resembling a shark, it had stocky legs, with wings to match. Suddenly the door opened, complaining at the sudden movement after what looked like centuries of sitting there.
A voice echoed in Moros’ head as he stepped into the stone room, untouched by the years or mankind after it was built.

“It is time to awaken, my child… Moros, my son, you will follow my footsteps, but, you must first find your true form… Don’t worry, it will come soon, slowly, but soon… Your mother abandoned you, that bastard, but I never did… Your visions are from me, as I try to awaken your true power… I am so close now, and I’m able to slowly break this curse that wrench put on you… Aha! I have fractured it some… I have found your strength… Now, go! My son! Behold your new gift!”

“My strength? What? What’s happening!?” Moros’ cry echoed off the walls as he wandered to the center of the cylindrical room. A stone moved under his foot and the dead torches burst into life, the cracks in the walls glowed with colors of lava and fire. Moros spun around as the heavy oak door slammed shut behind him.

“Calm yourself, my son, let the chamber give you a fragment of your true power…”

“What? Who are you? What ‘true power’?” Moros cried out once again, only to be answered with a sharp pain to the base of his skull, heat filled his body, and something began to forcibly expand his muscles, causing them to bulge and mutate. The pain and agony of the experience caused Moros to lose consciousness, and by the time he awoke, the chamber was normal, the only evidence of what had happened was the fresh soot on the walls above the walled torches.

“My child, you have gained a fragment of your power, I will slowly break this wretched curse, and you can rejoin me…”

Moros weakly lifted up his head, his whole body limp and numb from the forced expansion of every muscle in his body, “I…don’t even know…who you are…”   

“You will find out in due time…”