The Legend of Voden: The Rise of the Hollow

Prologue

Dark. Quiet. Falling.

The young dragon yawned awake and looked around. The abyss stared back, its gaze watchful, reminding. The sightless stars flashed before his eyes like a blanket of rising curtains, and the ground below him stretched for miles as far as the eye could see.

It's another dream, he figured, the darkness a mere fickle of imagination. Go back to sleep, he thought lazily and closed his eyes. He laid back, relaxed, and tried to sleep again. For a moment, he let himself imagine that he lay awoke on his bed once more. He could almost feel himself bathing in the warm sunlight that filtered through the window, signaling the arrival of a new morning. Stretching his wings, he would pull himself out of bed, and begin to prepare for the day. Perhaps when he finally woke up, the darkest of the night would go away. And maybe then he would realize the darkness was simply nothing but a harmless dream of fantasy.

The youngling peeked open his eye. Of course, the darkness didn't go away. It never did. It always remained; its presence real yet beyond comprehension. He reveled in the paradoxical entity that enveloped him. His wings buffeted the emptiness before him, and he swam through it as if the black substance was no more different than a liquid.

But every time he tried to move somewhere, he only felt the sense of going nowhere. His origin point seemed to recede from existence and it would become one with the blackness around it. He would try to retrace his path, but then he would never remember where he was before. It wasn't long before he gave up the idea of trying to go somewhere. Instead, he started to wander aimlessly throughout the void, trying to find an exit out of the place.

At the same time, his inner mind was as aimless as his body. He tried to gather his thoughts, provide a logical explanation of the paradoxical phenomenon before him. But when the puzzle pieces wouldn't fit together. Above all else, this place defied the laws of matter and magic. This place shouldn't exist, he insisted for the hundredth time in a row. It couldn't exist. Yet it existed, and he was here with it, floating in the darkness. Alone.

It took him until now to realize he didn't feel scared of the darkness at all. Instead, he felt calm in the embrace of the void, its endeavor inviting, almost comforting. In the few moments he'd known it, he'd already felt well accustomed to its homely presence. It felt peaceful, even nostalgic somehow. He allowed his worries and doubts to melt away like an undesirable burden that he hadn't known he ever shouldered. Something told him that he could rest here, that he could remain here forever, never to wake up again to return to reality.

And he liked the idea. Eternal rest. Sleeping was so scarce these days that he would consider it a commodity rather than a necessity. He could rest here and replenish his energy while he can. But he didn't accept the offer, worried that he would waste his age away, however tempting the extra sleep might be.
And it was most definitely tempting.

A speck of light caught his eye. A spark that kindled in the heart of the void. A pathetic flicker against the sheer darkness. Fascinated, he swam towards it, drawn to it like a moth to the light of a flame.

The spark burst into a dancing flame, which erupted into a pillar of light. The world exploded into motion, the cacophony of explosions deafening to the ear. The blackness collapsed, tore apart, like the roof of a tumbledown building blown away in the wind. The light surged forth and replaced the darkness of the night, blinding the world in its sheer brightness.

He shielded his face with a wing, his talons clawed for the non-existent ground, desperate to hold a grip against the light. Somehow he did, and he held on, persisted, waiting for the storm to pass.

A sob. The sound came from somewhere between himself and the flames. Through the glaring light, he could glimpse the silhouette of a dragon amidst the flames. In the scorching atmosphere, a cold shiver managed to run down his spine. His instincts urged him to run away and leave the stranger behind. But the other part of him thought otherwise as he inched towards the light.

The flames started to recede and he could see the dragon better now. The dragon was in his teenage years, his youth masked by the various cuts and bruises and scars on his body. His scales pale as a ghost, allowed him to blend into his surroundings, granting near invisibility against the light. A river of tears streamed down his face, which quickly vaporized, exposed to the hot air.

Pity. Grief. Sorrow. He felt a pit in his stomach as he approached the crying dragon. He held out a talon and reached out to the sobbing figure, trying to get their attention.

The white dragon stopped crying. He sniffed and looked up, his eyes glazed all over. The two dragons, one black and one white, met each other in the eye; their gazes staring, unmoving.

The black dragon stood paralyzed, his eyes filled with fear. For the eyes of the white dragon that greeted him weren't of sadness or grief.

They were a raging inferno, a swirling madness of purple anger seething from the burning gaze. An unsuppressed grin tore across his jaws, and then came the maniacal laugh that signaled the last of his slipping sanity.

And then the light came.

The white whelp had no time to react as the orbs of light chased after him. He tried to run away but he tripped, fell. Sprawled onto the non-existent floor.

The light caught him. Strangled him. His wings tossed about, trying to escape the clutches of light. But the light gripped harder, slithering against his neck.

His throat choked. He could feel the light constricting his heart. And before the last visage of the white dragon disappeared before him, he screamed in agony.