Year 10 Creative Writing Assessment; Reborn

Winds roared with me as I did. Glass shattered as I breathed. Islands rocked as I stepped across them. Mountains tumbled as I pushed past them.

I was a monster to the lands I crossed. 

But, how could I be? My snow white wings that were longer than rivers had been torn and doused in soot and dust. My vivid violet eyes that stopped men and women in their tracks had faded to black. My scales that glistened brighter than a thousand stars were as black as coal. My tail that lifted children to play and hide in their trees was covered in dirt and blood.

I am not a monster. My human brethren will tell you so, but I am not, I wasn’t then, and I am not now. 

They turned on me; the women who polished my scales as if they were diamonds; the men who presented their killings to me with the utmost pride; the children who had climbed my legs and tail, screeching with unexplainable joy and inexplicable excitement. They turned on me while holding pitchforks and torches, hiding their children as if I would hurt the creatures.

I don’t understand, how could they be scared of me? I never intended any harm to come to them. It was all the young boy's fault, with black gleaming eyes and tousled blond hair. He had started the fires, but no one would ever put them out. 

The day had started at the crack of dawn, as it always did. Children creeping through the doors of the barn, careful not to wake me. The smiles on their faces I would glimpse as I pretended to dream through slumber would bring a grin of joy to me. These children were my family. I would climb onto my feet and step through the children, pushing out through the barn's doors, then spread my wings. Merely taking off, I would feel a surge of power rush through me. Flying through those clouds, I couldn't have felt better. 

As I would descend as I always did, the women, men, and children would gather. The women holding their containers of water atop their heads; the men lugging their blood-stained prey; the children singing and laughing.

“Back,” I would croak, they would step away, some would run. Then bursting through silence came a breath of fire. Searing the men's prey and boiling the water, flushing it of the impurities. Bright blue and orange meddled together to cover the bringing, illuminating the faces of all that looked upon. Men and women with more astonishment each day, and children with wide eyes and wonderous thoughts pouring through their minds. Then, cheering. Children, screeching of excitement, women, of happiness, and men, of delight. The meat that they had laid before me would turn dark in my fire and sizzle in my breath's heat, and the water would steam and bubble, gone the mud that had once resided in it. It was my duty, each morning, to cook their meat and boil their water. I didn't mind the work. These people brought me happiness, and that was enough.

It was different that morning though, a woman came, screaming and cradling what looked to be a young boy. With blond hair and burnt clothes. He was, long ago, Dhaara. But he was different, my Dhaara was bright and full of happiness and light. The worry lines and scars that crossed his frail frame reflected differently. This was a boy who had been through hardship and survived.

But he was the Dragon Lord. He was my master, and his every wish was my command.

The woman held the boy close, she didn't even know him or what terror he would cause. Then, as I had looked upon him, neither did I. I had long since forgotten the tale of Dragon Lords reborn, who chose Chaos' Path to do so. He was my downfall, but I loved him, the boy who had sat at my egg's side and watched it hatch. The boy who had helped me in my weakness, escape my shell. But that was a thousand years ago, and even a dragon's memory had grown weak at such an age.

I knew him, the boy that she cradled, I stepped towards her. She was not of this place, she did not know of my friendliness. She cowered and held the boy closer, afraid of me.

"Put the boy down," My voice was weak.

She placed the boy down. He stunk of blood, the metallic smell had filled my senses. It was silent, no child laughed or sang, no man or woman cheered, they stood, silent. My long neck bent and lowered me down till I could make out every detail. He was my Dragon Lord, my commander, my Dhaara, and I was his dragon, Adha, the Protector.

He was as pale as the moon, instead of craters and mountains, he had scars, some bumpy and large, protruding almost. Others thick and short, making crevices and dents in his skin. The bags under his eyes could tell no other story but a lack of sleep. The greens, blues and blacks that decorated his skin meddled in colour, showing themselves at every point of his body. Disgusting, no one should be treated in such a manner to receive such bruises, such scars.

"Do... do you know him?" I turned my head towards the still-sobbing woman.

"Yes, he is the Cheif's son," I could barely make out her words through her sobs, "I know him well, he's trouble, but we love him."

"Step away," my voice commanded, she reluctantly stood and shuffled backwards, where she was comforted by a woman of our village.

My Dragon Lord should have never been reborn, but I didn't know that then. I saved his life, but soon enough it would cost me what I called my life. 

White fire poured over his body, it wasn't the same as the blue fires nor the orange ones. This fire flowed through the air as the wind blew through the tree's and their leave's. The unnatural colours faded. The stink of blood faded from my senses. But the silence stayed.

His eyes flew open. Baby blue eyes. They darted around, desperately, almost. Would he recognise me? After a thousand years and his new memories and life? His body began to move, he hurriedly climbed to his feet.

Then he saw me. His eyes glazed over me. Then he must not have been able to see, with his eyes pouring tears like a waterfall. His face remained emotionless though. 

Was he happy to see me? Did he remember the days where he would ride through the clouds with me?

Or was he afraid? Did the way I towered over him with my humongous body frighten him?

I needed answers.

"Dhaara?" My voice cracked, as did his, he had begun to sob.

"Adha!" He had yelled, jumping onto my nose, hugging it tightly.

I had wanted to stay there forever, my Dhaara, he was back. But it wouldn't stay that way, nothing ever stayed happy.

The children begged Dhaara and the woman to stay awhile, with women and men arguing that they should rest and recover. The woman, reluctantly, agreed. The boy didn't have to say a word, the way he held me, with such happiness, it looked as if he would never let go. Eventually, though, he did, let go.

"Adha," He breathed, leaning against my frame, "fly with me. It's been hundred's of years, fly with me, Adha, fly with me."

"Of course," my answer was quick, I needed no time to think. I couldn't refuse. Flying with my Dhaara, I couldn't imagine a better thing. 

I lowered my neck till it touched the ground, as he scrambled onto me. 

"Fly, Adha, fly," I did, I spread my wings, further than I ever had, and flew. I shot through the clouds, the fluffiness of them scattered as I broke through them. The mountain views flashed by as I went higher and past their tallest peaks. I flew higher and higher until I could see nothing but the blues of the sky.

My roars sounded out into the emptiness, he yelled out too. He screamed; of joy; of excitement; of delight. He laughed with such emotion, I couldn't comprehend it. I didn't then, and I still cannot now. My Dhaara, my Dragon Lord, my Commander, the mere sight of him brought tears to my eyes, and knowing he was flying with me brought a grin to my face.

“Adha,” He yelled through the wind, “fly to the highest peak.” I raced there, the highest peak that towered over all others. The white that covered the mountain froze me to the bone once I landed. Dhaara jumped from his place on my neck and fell to the ground. Slowly he turned back to me, smiling. 

I wish I had known what that smile had meant, that I had known it wasn't of happiness that he smiled. 

"Adha," I stared into his eyes, blue as the sky, "Grant me one last wish."

"Anything," I was desperate for his voice, I was afraid it was all a dream; that in a moment he would disappear and never return to me.

Then, as I looked into his eyes, they seemed to fade. I know now what had happened to him and me; we had withered away from reality. My eyes had turned to coal in a moment, and as I had looked into his eyes, they did the same.

"Adha, the Protector," He murmured, "Such a name won't suit the new path we will take together."

He stared. I was scared; terrified; horrified; petrified.

What had these people done with my Dhaara?

He was corrupted, long before that day, but I couldn't do anything about that. He was Dhaara, a Dragon Lord. His every wish was my command, no matter what I chose.

"I choose a new name for you, Adha, the Protector, you will be now known as..." He paused once more. I didn't want another name, I was Adha, it was the name he had chosen for me many years ago.

"Dyreil, the Reborn."

I didn't want it.

"Do not say a word, beast, you have been reborn with me. Do you not see my eyes? I chose Chaos just to see you again. I love you Dyreil, and we will be together forever now."

I couldn't move; I couldn't protest against his words. In that singular moment, remembering the tale of those who Chaos, I wanted to scream. Not roar, scream.

"You said you would grant me one last wish, correct?" He breathed his whisper, "Let's fly, Dyreil, fly far far away. Just you and me."

I had wanted to speak; yell; roar. But, I couldn't. My Dragon Lord commanded it. I could never have refused, even if I wanted. But I didn't, at that moment, all I could think of was Dhaara, my Dhaara, with me at long last.

"Or are you too attached, Dyreil? Devoted to these people, this place, these children, instead of me?" His black eyes had crept into my mind, into my soul, my thoughts.

"I see. We'll just have to take care of that, won't we?" He had giggled as if it was a joke. Chaos had corrupted his very soul.

He jumped atop my still lowered neck.

"We must take care of this issue of yours, Dyreil." My neck bent till I faced him once more, "You'll do it for me, won't you?"

I had, I had done it all for him. I had spread my wings and flew done to the village. Women, men, children, they had left their works and play to welcome me. I had wanted to cry, but, at the same time, all I could think of was Dhaara.

I had to do it. I had to do it for my Dhaara.

"Run." Dhaara yelled, "For years this murderous beast has been waiting, waiting to burn your village and your babes."

The crowd murmured, Adha would never do such a thing, Adha has helped our village thrive, they would never do such a thing.

"You do not believe me? I am Dhaara, Dragon Lord and son of the Village Cheif. I warn you, grab your torches and pitchforks. This is a deadly brute! It will kill you all."

There were always the few in the village that didn't like me. That never wanted me to stay. That did think I was an eater of children.

"I knew it!" They cried, "It's a monster!"

 "I'll prove it!" He yelled, he turned back to me, with his crooked smile and wild eyes.

"Prove it," He whispered, "My monster, my beast."

"Kill me," He breathed.

Can a dragon scream? I learnt in that moment, no, a dragon cannot scream. But, they can roar. A Dragon Lord, killed by a dragon? I couldn't comprehend. Instead, my voice exploded, breathing blue fires and my anguish into the open air.

I couldn't kill him, I could never kill a Dragon Lord.

But to Dhaara, I could. He was standing in front of me when I had roared. His body had crippled and fell, the crooked grin remained until he hit the ground, his black eyes returned to their baby blue, in his last breath he muttered a single word, it haunts me.

"Wait..."

The crowd shrieked, women grabbed their children and ran for their lives, men took weapons. I was back in control of myself, I moved, I spoke, I cowered, but nothing could stop them. The women returned, bearing torches that were soon struck alight.

I looked at the woman who had brought him to me. She had stood, not a single tear escaped her eyes, not a frown of sadness, not a cry of despair. She simply stood there. Then she spoke.

"Burn its wings," she yelled.

The people listened, men threw the torches, each had deadly aim, the women took handfuls of mud and dirt and threw it into my face.

I had to leave, I had to fly so far away.  I spread my wings and took flight. I didn't want to, I wanted to fly to the tallest mountain peak and cry for a thousand years. The boy, in a day, had cursed my life.

I would never hear the children's giggles as they crept into the barn to wake me. I would never feel the women take the water and pour it across my scales and polish each until it shined. I would never see the happiness of the men as they ate the charred meat each morning. 

A Dragon Lord who had chosen Chaos. He will accept the path again and again. He will find me anew, look me in the eyes, and thank me, for his death and new life each time.

"Thank you, Dyreil," He'll say, "Thank you."

Until then, I give you my story. The story of Adha, the Protector. The myth of Dyreil, the Reborn. The fable of me, Adha, Dyreil, and my new name, Meosessial, the Protector of the Reborn.

(2,526 words, doesn't include this.)