In the realm of The dragons, six young halflings live. Not just any halflings though. They are half man, half dragon. Treated differently by dragonkind, these six children must stick together. Especially in this strange dangerous place. Speaking of...
The wind rushes around me as I fell. I smiled at the thought of being dead. Then all this sadness will go away because it can't follow me in lioneska. I'd been feeling a crushing sadness for the past 10 years. Like I didn't fit in anywhere, and about how much I hated myself. I tried talking to the teacher about it but she said I was doing it for attention. So from then on I kept
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it inside. I thought the feelings may go away, but they didn't. I began to use my dagger to cut my wrist. Over time, I've drawn many pictures. I still remember how it started. 30 years after mama died. I felt so awful. So alone. So...empty. Like a void. Drawing everything in, killing it. Until...they came. They had no face, no color, no form. They were nothing, yet they were everything. They taught that my blade can send away the bad feelings for awhile. I was scared at first, afraid of the pain. Only when I started, I realized. I deserve this. I found it got worse over time. Yet no one noticed. No one cared. There was no color. No love. Not anymore. I cry as I fall. The blood rushes past me as I fall. Falling, falling, falling. My wing scraped the side of the stone. I yelped, and stupid reflex made me unfurl them. I'm too close to the bottom though. Death is certain. Yet it's not. My wings slam into the ground and darkness pulls me in its comfortable embrace. When I wake, I know I'm alive. Because the pain is very much present. I sit up and grit my teeth. Forcing myself to look at my wings, I almost pass out again. My beautiful blue and white wings are mangled beyond repair. I cry. Im sorry mama...I failed. Again. I take out my dagger and roll up my sleeve. But I only draw one picture before a scuffle and a intake of breath makes me stop. I look up as light slides over a huddled figure clutching a small stuffed rabbit. At first, it looks like one of the wingless people who attacked me and I tense. But then the light slides further and I see it's a small girl, looking only about 90 or 100. And she has furry ears and a furry tail. The ears and tail start black and slowly fade out to red at the tips. She has star white hair that covers one eye. Speaking of her eyes, they are the same shade of red. Leaking the same bloody tears. She seems so small and hopeless I almost choke. We stare at each other until she speaks in a timid voice. "You too...?" "Huh?" I think out loud. "You too?" She repeats. Then, very slowly, I see her lift her sleeve. And I feel so much better in that moment. Like when mama used to assure me that everything would be ok. For on her arms are the same pictures. And still bleeding. "Who are you?" I ask. "..." the girl stays quiet. "Im Zero." I'm about to give up when she speaks. "...Nevix..."
