That’s how all great fantasy stories started, wasn’t it?
Once upon a time in a land far, far away at some indiscernible time. It was a time that Jackary had still been home, when he was young, barely reaching his first century of age. Wild and free and the most carefree of hearts. Trailing behind him wherever his feet touched left blooming flowers in his wake and in the air, his wings were the fastest in all of the land.
Beautiful. Powerful. Agile.
When the Emerald took to the sky there was none faster, none happier to soar. He was in a league all of his own. Dragons were greedy creatures with their own prized possessions that he held above life itself, and his were the translucent wings that gave him true freedom from responsibilities of being heir to a Kingdom he didn’t want to be a part of.
He and Lokitan were young and reckless, they wanted adventure, not the slavery that came with being princes or royalty or even avatars. Two teenagers wanting to play outside, dreaming through their imaginations until they were forced to return home. It was when they grew older that Jack flying through the air was a symbol of hope, a turning tide through battles of war. A beacon of peace and happiness.
Of joy.
“I want you to be my Soulsworn,” Lokitan spoke one night, out upon the balcony of his father’s black castle, forged from the embers of a volcanic mountain in ages past. He had been in on his second glass of wine, his own coronation of becoming a Prince of age and he was spending it with Jackary at his side, both happy and joyous through such a high caliber celebration.
“What? Really?” Jack mused and yet he puffed his chest, beaming with a sense of growing pride. To be a Soulsworn, a trusted Knight, a Kingsglaive, a Dragonsworn and protector… It was the highest rank and honour one of the Military could obtain. Jack should have had his own and yet he never bothered to bond. No one was worthy. Dragons weren’t meant to be Oathsworn to others of their kind but the pair didn’t care.
“Yeah, really,” Lokitan replied, turning to face the blond-haired elven form, staring up at the towering male with a curious gaze. There was but a single problem that came with taking on such a position… “But what would you put up as a sacrifice?”
“Easy, my wings,” Jackary beamed with confidence, glancing out across the breathtaking view of the valleys below, glittering with stardust from the chilled evening air. His attention drifted back to his cousin, fangs bared in his ever-charming, bright grin. “Why not?”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Loki couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “You know that you lose whatever you give your oath on if you break it, right?”
“Are you saying that I would break my oath to you and forsake my wings? Never.”
“Alright then, your wings it is.”
That night, that happy, carefree night was so long ago.
Now, within the bowels of Blackrock Spire, upon one of the chained pillars dangling above the ever-churning lava, Jackary was hunched over and covered in sweat and ash. Blood dribbled down from a head wound, his body ached from the scratches and scuffs bleeding all over his form. Lokitan’s wish before he took Jackary to the tree and simply faded away was but one thing… He asked the Oath be upheld.
Protect them.
Guard them for me, as you did me.
You are my Soulsworn, even in death.
Standing before Jackary had been a Black Drake who had taken one of Lokitan’s so-called adopted family members hostage after he’d been mistreated. They were only in this position because the one who abused the power knew he could smugly get away with it. Jackary would always be there in a blink of an eye, summoned like a fighter into the ring to protect the snobby little brat. It was abuse.
It nearly cost Jack his life, but more importantly, the tiny wretch nearly cost someone else theirs to bail them out yet again. It had been that way for months, every other day the Sindorei cried wolf, picked fights where he simply summoned a dragon to bully those he did wrong into submission.
Pointless.
Jack was exhausted, pushed to the edge of madness, and without Lokitan there, he had begun to wonder just why he was still putting up with this. To stop would mean to lose what he so desperately cherished and yet…
“Help Jack... I’m uh... I’m hurt! This guy is going to kill me!”
The familiar voice, right on cue, echoed through the dragon’s brain, derailing the thoughts that he had been trying to keep to himself. The sound of disappointment, truly one person carried that entire weight. His very soul had given up, he was defeated, delirious, nothing was worth this sort of torture.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
“I revoke my oath…” He whispered, his voice barely carried over the link all that carried the mark of Chaoti shared, the pained words pushed through dried, cracked lips. He had barely had time to clean himself up from the battle the night before.
“What..?”
“I revoke my oath…” He said it again a bit louder, tilting his head up to the sky slowly as tears pushed out of the corners of his eyes, falling with little warning or care. “I revoke my Oath to Lokitan Chaoti, to the Chaoti Clan. I revoke my name and right to the crest.”
A sudden burning sensation erupted from his shoulder blades, causing Jackary to cry out from the sharp pain, lurching forward to try and brace himself for what was about to happen. This agony would be temporary, he had to tell himself that.
“I forsake my collateral…” In the final words, the hellfire skittered up those wonderful wings that flared out in an attempt to get away from the heat, burning through the membrane and skin, incinerating the bones, ligaments, and joints that carried the beast to any and all freedom he ever wanted. The pain was supposed to be temporary and even the fire that engulfed and destroyed part of himself cauterized the wounds on his back, leaving horrific scars down either side of his spine. The spellbinding chains that had once bound him to a fallen prince now released him without mercy.
The flame swallowed him whole.
His life flashed before his eyes, what few memories he retained, including the night he took the Oath. They melted away as too did his wings.
When the unbinding of his wings had been completed, the shadowy tendrils that made up his Chaoti sigil tattooed into his left forearm erupted, ripping right from the skin as if the skin were simply yanked free, causing another pained scream to rupture from his throat.
Everything went silent.
There, Jackary laid on his side, staring at his bloodied forearm where his family crest had been for thousands of years, covered in the ashes of what once made him the happiest beast to ever roam any galaxy. Everything hurt. His body, his soul, his pride, the guilt was so thick that he couldn’t even swallow to ease his dry throat.
The pain would only be temporary…
The pain would be temporary…
The pain…
Eyes closed in the silence, letting his entire body shut down out of shock until only soft breaths could be heard in the darkness he’d found himself in. Maybe he could have slept through this nightmare and awoken, maybe he could have rested…
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