username;
turntechFeatherhead
irith name;
Zyrrin
(WARNING, contains death. I'll edit it out if I need to.)
"Zyrrin my boy, you have to get out of here, out of the Facility. Those humans... they will do awful things to you, take away your freedom and all the things that make you who you are. Tonight, when the last guard goes home and the dogs have been put away, run. Run as fast as you can, and do not look back." The old fae's voice was a low, strained whisper. Blood caked her mane and ran in rivulets along her throat and face. She'd been like a mother to Zyrrin, and when a guard had tried to bully him, she stepped in, earning a slash of claws and losing the use of all of her eyes. She was right, the humans had brainwashed these creatures, and some even had mechanical or mutated parts.
The young dragon whimpered, laying against Aelith's bloody side and licking her wounds gently. "I cant leave you," he murmured, frame shaking now, "what will those... those things do to you if they find out you helped me escape." Aelith seemed to frown, and open her maw to argue, only to be interrupted by horrible hoarse gagging and a clout of blood freeing itself from her lungs.
"You must, Zyrrin, you must escape. They will kill me, I'm certain, but I am an old stump, they will be doing me a favor by helping me get to the Hall of Silverwing. But you, you are young, and they will do uncountless things to you so much worse than death, and you have to leave. Go find the dragons to the North, tell them Aelith sent you, and explain to them your story." Her voice was getting weaker, speech more and more difficult for the dying dragon. Her body began to shiver, and she started to heave again, as if coughing something up. The fae shuddered once more, and lifted her lips in a small smile for Zyrrin before laying still.
Zyrrin refused to leave her side until the humans came for the body, and even then he paced around the courtyard until dusk fell, the humans left, and the guards went to their quarters. "I'll get revenge on them, Aelith. I promise." He growled, stepping with purpose, hackles raised and mind set. He sniffed along the rear fence, the one backing a forest said to be inhabited by demons, and found the weakest spot, near an old tear that hadn't been repaired completely. The young brute struck out, ripping a small gash in the hexagon-patterned wire, and squeezed himself through, the ragged edges ripping at his skin and fur.
For days, he ran, barely stopping to rest and eat, and, on the sixth day, he stopped hearing the baying of the hunting dogs behind him, and the forest thinned into an arctic tundra. He sent up a call, breath crystallizing in the air. Several calls answered back, and the scent of others like himself cloyed the thin atmosphere.
Within moments, pale shapes came trotting out of the swirling snow, almost as if born of the mist themselves. They circled him, making him pause in his flight.
"What business have you with the Northern Ice Clan?" A fae spoke, clearly the leader here as she stepped forward towards him with head high and a haughtiness about her that he instantly hated. He could feel her, all of them, looking at him and scrutinizing him, the scars that covered his body, the prominence of his bones through his pelt, the determined set of his eyes and body.
"Aelith sent me. She's been killed in the Facility." The entire air shifted, the breeze halted and even the snow seemed to fall heavier. The first fae glanced around, face grim. "Xaifin, ready the warriors fora battle beyond what we've ever faced before. And you," she added, glancing at Zyrrin, "come with me. You must be trained as a warrior if you are to be any help at all." The black-pelted dragon fell into step with the clan, following them into the mist once more. Some say he was responsible for the fall of the Facility and, in result, humans, others say he never reappeared from the mists and still lives in the North.
i lived.
