The Legend of Voden: The Rise of the Hollow

Chapter 1: Lighting a Fire

Act 1: The Great Awakening

Voden felt a pang of guilt when he snuck out of bed in the middle of the night. Surely, his sister wouldn't allow it, but he had no other choice.

Her sister would have to hate him for this.

The small, shadow-like figure moved silently, his back against the walls of the cavern, like an assassin waiting to strike. He blended into the shadows, hiding in the nooks and crannies of the uneven cavernous walls. He didn't stay put for long, however, for the walls were freezing cold to the touch. 

Cold to the point he could see his breath reflected in the puffy clouds of smoke he'd exhaled. So cold, in fact, he wished he stayed in bed, like the good little brother his sister knew. He had to refrain himself from sneezing in the chilly, musty air of the cavern and took off into the air. 

He glided soundlessly as the walls around him began to thin out, exposing himself into an open chamber -  the heart of the mountain. He found himself staring into an open sky, drizzled with stars and early flecks of snow that marked the beginning of winter. A blue probe of light illuminated his surroundings, the effect of moonlight filtering through the barrier that separated him between the outside world. 

The stars reminded him. His Day of Awakening is nigh. The Fateful Day which falls on every youngling's seventh hatch day, celebrating the powers granted by the Celestials unto a dragonet. 

And that day was tomorrow.

Or when it was supposed to be. 

Tomorrow wasn't his hatch day. It was all a lie, a disguise for him living amidst the Light Dragons, for him to be one of their own. And his sister - his family - all perfectly knew this. 

So why did they lie about his real hatch-day?

The more he thought about it, the more he felt angry about his "family". The "family" he thought he'd loved. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth as a searing pain coursed through his heart. His breaths became shallow and cusped as he muttered beneath his breath. It was all a lie. It was all a lie. He never felt so angry, so betrayed. 

He wanted to cry - he really wanted to pour out his emotions and cry his tears onto the rocky floor before, but he couldn't. He was older now, and he'd never seen older dragons cried before. He couldn't cry over such a whimsical matter, to let his emotions get the better of him. 

No, he couldn't. 

So, his eyes reluctantly left the sky, and he scanned the chamber with weary eyes, hoping no one had hidden in the darkness watching him cry.  He wiped clear his face of teary eyes before he glided swiftly towards the west side of the cavern. 

Soon, his destination came into the view - a sandstone cave, like the other caves in the hollow mountain which they called home - but smaller - much, much smaller. It looked smaller from outside, but Voden knew its real size was diminished by the countless racks of books and scrolls which towered off into the sky. In reality, the room could only fit two dragons at most, and then the two dragons would find it extremely stuffy and uncomfortable inside.  In fact, the room always felt particularly warm, even in the coldest, harshest nights of winter. 

It was dark, and Voden had trouble finding the scroll he'd wanted this time. Usually, Iceleta would light a candle and accompany him, but he felt older now. He always felt he didn't need her help with lighting a candle, and but she'd always said that she'd feared him of burning down the entire mountain.

... Again, his sister would have to hate him on this. 

He pulled on his Ignis Krysta - his Fire Rune - a red gem embedded in the scales of his front torso-and reached for its energy. Soon, its magic began its work, flowing through him, burning away at his guilt and worries as if it was becoming one with his entire being. The entire room lit up in an instant, and he could clearly see the lamp on the nightstand now. 

He squinted at the lamp as he aimed for the opening on its top, pretending it was some sort of target for aiming practice. He raised his neck, opened his maw and released the suppressed magic within. Let my will be done. A trickle of fire gently flowed out of his snout, bathing the room in a flash of light before kindling the lamp ablaze.

The aspect of a breath weapon used to make him wonder and smile in delight, but the smile was eventually lost over the years. He especially held no joy in his heart when he looked upon the flames inside the lamp, the fire struggling to keep itself alive.

Despite his best efforts, the fire he breathed was always weak; it would douse itself out in a mere matter of minutes, and the heat from it was not even strong enough to warm up a room the slightest during a cold night. Besides, no matter how hard he tried the color of the flames was a constant ghostly white.

Just as white as the white of his scales.

And he hated it.

Voden hated the colors of white and grey. To him, it was like a curse, his mortal enemy. He deeply sighed as he viewed his room. He made sure everything in his room was vibrant with color for no object in his room had been allowed to be white or grey or black. He remembered the ornamental knife that he kept under his bed usually had a white sheath, till he discarded it out of pure disgust and replaced it with a cheap purple one from the nearby market. Even his books on the shelves were color-coded with stickers of every imaginable color. But there was nothing he could do to change his appearance in the mirror. Every time he peered into it, he was always hoping for some kind of change. Any other color than shades of white or black would do fine as a change.

But the Celestials never listened. And Voden grew on with it, realizing his scales would always remain of the hideous hues of white and grey. Only his irises were stained a dashing hue of scarlet, and that color was probably inherited from his mother. If not for his sister, he probably wouldn't even notice it. He never thought he always looked at himself in the mirror. But he always did. Every time he woke up he would stare at his image in the mirror, looking upon the same monochrome appearance every day. The appearance that he couldn't do anything about it. It was like a reminder of his past, a past that he could never change. A past that he was doomed to remember until eternity.

At least, he chose to forget much of his past, anyway.

Voden snapped to reality as he noticed the lamp flickered in the mirror. He knew he had to hurry before the flames extinguished and plunged the room into darkness again. So, he immediately set off to work. He laid on the floor and started flipping through the pages of various books he collected over the years, skimming the contents within. After a good searching, he finally found the book he was looking for - a second-talon copy of The Simplified Dragon Codex for Whelps by Elder Telus, that was also bought cheaply off the market.  Voden opened the book and flipped to a random page.

"The color of a dragon dictates their power. And each dragon wields a unique element that matches their scale color. Hence, the number of colors of a dragon's scales also dictates the number of elements their control. Certain colors are also considered rarer than other colors. Common colors such as white, blue and orange, are called Common Elements, or Kromas Camonst, while the rarer colors such as black, purple or gold are called Unique colors, or Kromas Ulnikia."

Voden had no idea why he reading this out loud. He had no idea why he even had the urge to look up the page again in the first place. He had no purpose to. He could close the book now and recall every single line and every single detail in the book without fail, for the memories of him reading it were etched far too deep in his mind.

Voden was just about to close the book shut when a shadow too large to be his casted over him. He didn't hesitate when he stood up and swung his tail blade at the intruder as if it was second nature to him. A stunned dragon used its own tail tip to block the deadly scythe that had just been aiming for their heart. If the blade was to reach the target, it was most likely going to leave a nasty mark on the scales. But then the blade had swiftly changed direction towards the nightstand and knocked over the lamp that had been placed precariously over the edge.

Voden's pupils shrunk to a horror as he saw the lamp falling to the floor. 

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