Legends of Belariath

Cynvalas Avernus

~Sins of the Father~

He awoke. His eyes flared open, his lips parted.. Oxygen, he couldn't breathe. Where was he? Water all around him, surrounding him, depriving him of the precious air he needed. He thrashed, writhed within the water. He couldn't swim. Helpless, destined to drown. Unheard crys screamed, curses bellowed, bubbles drifting upwards towards the surface. Then, he heard it. A deafening, ear-splitting roar. Suddenly, he'd begin to float upwards, as if being guided by an unseen hand. The water was black, not the usual shade of crystalline blue which most were familiar. Ascending, his form slack, unmoving, statuesque. Finally, he felt his head surfacing from the dark water's depths.. He felt those long tendrils of crimson clinging to him. His eyes were closed, dazed, having fallen unconscious during his trepidation. Soon enough, the whole of his body ascended, and still being manipulated by some unknown source, he'd begin floating, lifelessly in direction of the beach. The sensation fled, and whomever held him within that grasp, released. He fell onto the sandy, damp beach. A cough, a sputter, and slowly, with nearly the entirety of his strength, he'd lift himself to his knees. “Arise, son.”

That voice, familiar, tantalizing.. Yet cruel. Mocking him. Slowly, his head lifted, and his vision shifted. Unprepared for the sight which lay before him, he nearly fainted once more. A dragon. Large, it was, seemingly it's height impressive enough to tower over the mightiest of mountains. He remained there, knelt, pure horror, shock. Was he to be killed? Eaten? Tortured?”No. You will not be harmed.”

It read his mind. A fact which brought only more horror to him. Still, he remained silent, far too frightened to either scream, or move. ”I have chosen you. He, whom deserves it least. You, whom were once enslaved, shall become the champion of this world. You will become it's God. For centuries, eons, we Dragons have created beings, to watch over those whom inhabited this realm. The time for watching has long since been over. Your brothers and sisters have set forth, became legends. You will rise above them. You will create, and destroy history.” For some strange reason, he no longer felt that heart wrenching fear. Slowly, as if not wanting to test the dragon's patience, he lifted himself.. Rising to his feet.

” Look upon you. I have granted you gifts. Your body, your mind, your soul.. Destroyed. You've been re-incarnated. You've been blessed through my Nightmare.”

As the Dragon spoke, he would begin examining himself. No longer, did he have the fur which sprung from his flesh, indicating himself as a Catperson. Instead, his flesh was inky, the darkest of obsidion imaginable. He was taller, much more so, muscles outlining his lean, ragged frame. Then, he felt them, the 'additions'. Those wings, the four of them, spreaded.. He could control them. They flapped, harder an' harder, until folding against him. That tail, long, dexterous, yet seemingly packed with dense muscle, burst from his spine's base, coiling behind him. “Yes. You are no longer of the slave race. You are Drak Sen. You are the Nightmare. You are, Cynvalas.”

Cynvalas turned, slowly, walking the short distance towards the black water, eyeing his murky reflection. Where were his eyes? Nothing peered back towards him. Those sockets were empty, filled with only the dread of that deep, black shade.

“It is time.”

Cynvalas turned, and again as if pulled by some invisible grasp, he'd be hurled towards the Dragon, coming to a stand before it's massive frame.

“Destroy those whom once persecuted you. Leave but one alive. The survivor alone will tell the story of your return.” His lips remained a thin, stoic line. No longer was he afraid, yet, the sting of uncertainty struck his heart. Still, he was oblivious to what, exactly, this ominous being asked of him. Oblivious to his dark destiny..

”You are my essence. You are my Nightmare. I, your Father, and you, my Son. You are my Sin onto this world. The seed which will plant a new generation. Destroy those who stand in your path. Conquer this land. Assist your Brothers and Sisters who've been sent before you. Ask them for aide when necessary. Seek their counsel. Every six seasons, you will come to me, and more power I shall bestow.”

The Dragon's wings flared, seemingly covering the sky, reaching the Heavens. Flapping, vigorously, yet Cynvalas stood, unmoved by the wind. Finally, it's beastial frame rose, and disappeared within the stars.

Cynvalas stood there, contemplating. The Dragon, his Father of Fathers, had gave him new life. He would serve him. There was no choice. He would serve all Dragons. He understood. He was their child. Their spawn. Their seed. Their Sin. Without another glance back towards that beach from which he had been 'born', Cynvalas would begin moving. It was time for him to complete the destiny set before him. He would conquer, he would kill, and he would become this world's God.

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