Destiny and Dystopia: A Tale of Dragons and Humans Book One: The Red Eyes

Harsh

Smokefire tried not to wriggle as the human in front of him spoke. He knew he was supposed to listen to the troubles of the land and offer solutions, but he just couldn't sit still! This damp, dark cave was uncomfortable and cramped, and he was never really comfortable anywhere when he wasn't flying. The fresh air, the exhilaration... It filled him with excitement. In fact, he had been seen flying and doing stunts in the air so much, that the humans had gifted him with the name Windscales. Which he liked.

The human was looking at him expectantly. Oh, flames and firebreath! He hadn't been listening... Smokefire nodded slowly and sagely, deciding this was the safest thing to do. He hoped he didn't look like an idiot or like he was trying to emulate his old mentor or something. Tyrilyth had been famous for his wisdom.

The human smiled. "I am glad to know you feel the same," he said. "I shall return later once I have prepared. Thank you, Lord Windscales." Smokefire blinked. "You're... Welcome?" He said as the human walked out of the cave and down to the village at the foot of Mirahal Mountain. Smokefire breathed a sigh of relief. Even though he'd had NO clue what he'd agreed to, the human hadn't seemed to realize that. That would be too embarrassing!

You see, once every century in Shynalia, one dragon from any of the six races of dragon is chosen to be the Guardian of Shynalia by the gods. At the age of ten, his or her scales turn an unusual sky blue and they gain the traits and abilities of every type of dragon. He or she is then put through a strict training regimen to make sure that, when the time comes, they will have the skills to protect Shynalia and it's inhabitants. Smokefire was one such dragon.

Ever since Tyrilyth's death a few months before, all the responsibilities of a Guardian had fallen to Smokefire. At twenty years old, Smokefire was barely a dragonling himself, so the untimely death of his mentor had been extraordinarily shocking. Smokefire knew that he had been far more expendable, but he wasn't ready to be a Guardian. The wisdom and experience required only came with age, and Smokefire was overwhelmed by the rules and duties.

So, you really can't blame him for wanting to get away once in a while... Guardians were only allowed a break at midday and a hunt at dusk and dawn, but no one even noticed his little excursions!

Smokefire crept to the edge of the cave and gazed wistfully out at the nearby forest. He glanced around the area, finding that he was quite alone. He spread his wings and took flight. It felt so... fresh, so exhilarating, so free.

"SMOKEFIRE!!!"

Smokefire winced. Uh oh... That was his mother's voice. Charra.

He turned to face the scarlet Flamebreath with apprehension, his ears tilted back.

"Where are you going?" She demanded. "The sun is still high in the sky."

"...Hunting?" He wanted to curl up into a little tiny ball, he didn't want to face his mother!

"You can't! Midday was quite a while ago, you know!"

"I-I know, but... I'm so cramped in there! It won't matter if I'm gone for a little while!"

Charra's nostrils exuded a plume of smoke. She looked like she wanted to yell at him. Thankfully, she didn't. "It will matter if a poor weak human needs your help."

"The humans aren't that defenseless! They're intelligent! Crafty!" Any possible excuse... any way out of this... "I'm going hunting, and you can't stop me!"

He whipped around in the air and started to fly away towards the forest.

"Smokefire!" His mother's voice made his wings feel like lead. He had to stop. "You are a Guardian!" 

Smokefire heard those words, and heard them several times over. Tyrilyth's voice joined Charra's. Smokefire couldn't handle this. He wouldn't. He turned in the air and looked Charra dead in the face, blue eyes meeting scarlet.

"I never asked to be!" And with that, he turned and flew the rest of the way to the forest, not even looking to see her reaction. Her heartbroken expression.

Oh Soarath, had he really just said that? Since he'd turned blue, everyone had always talked about 'oh, what a wonderful Guardian he'll be!' And he'd wanted that. But not yet. His training... it never even finished. It wasn't fair!

Nothing was ever fair.

He landed on the forest floor and immediately scorched a nearby innocent deer. He needed some food... just eat... maybe it would help... 

It WAS helping. The delectable, savory taste of the prey felt wonderful on his tongue. He immediately felt so much better. He'd been eating so much since his mentor's death, maybe he'd started to put on weight... oh, that would be SUPER tragic, wouldn't it? The Guardian couldn't be fat, it just wouldn't do!

"Eating away your problems?" The voice was harsh, cutting straight into his meal. Smokefire glanced around wildly, his wings spreading. He hadn't noticed that the clearing he'd landed in was surrounded by trees so large that he was completely surrounded by shadow. Perfect for a dragon to hide... as one was clearly doing.

"N-No, that's not what I'm doing... Where ARE you?" 

"I think it is." The voice from the shadows completely ignored Smokefire's question, but it didn't matter. Smokefire could almost pick out a shape in the dark... He was silent, thinking the voice would continue. His patience was soon rewarded.

"Poor little dragonling, your life is soooo hard..." Was that a smirk in the stranger's voice? "A mentor dead, a mother furious... how tragic."

"L-Leave me alone." Smokefire didn't like this. He was clearly being taunted.

The voice chuckled. "Have it your way. I have better things to do anyway. I just wanted to get a look at you."

In the darkness, red eyes glinted.