Crown of Dahlias

In a small village, half hidden along a mountainside, Kieren was slinking between shadows. Footsteps sure even with so little moonlight. The softest brush of bare skin against knobbled and far-reaching trees. Not even a whisper of sound from stepping on the coarse dirt beneath his feet.

In this world, Drakes were the epitome of power amongst the species. Only making up 10% of the population, humans making up the other 90%. Drakes could be found in the highest positions of power in communities or in positions to protect others (such as guards, watchmen, knights, patrolman). No one questioned this, dragons taking care of their own. A private species with traditions and rules that only dragons were privy to. Making sure none over-reached so that there would always be peace and harmony amongst the dragon territories and between humans. A symbiosis that all worked hard to maintain.

Humans were born with vibrant and colorful hair throughout the world. The more rare the color, the more blessings, respect, luck and riches came to them. Fiery red, leafy green, aqua blue. Eyes that matched their brightest feature. Dressing in the same colors or even brighter shades to demonstrate their extravagance, their standing in society. They normally worked side by side with the higher ranking dragons, helping to keep harmony.

All Kieren knew was that he would have to remain cloaked, face obscured at all times. The villagers said he was a defect, so they made him their servant. His skin too pale. Form too slight. Eyes not right. An ugly thing where he should be thankful they did not kill him right away. To be grateful for their pity and staying their hand.

The worst, they would tell him, was about the coloring of his features; his hair and eyes. It was a color that had never been seen before amongst humans or dragons.

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