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The Wound

2ndSeason, 1499

It had been thousands of years. The door wasn't ever supposed to open ever again. No hinges or mechanisms graced its edges, only stone several feet thick and stucco, strengthened by means unknown to all but a scant few to withstand any natural erosion and resist any common chisel or hammer.

Yet the door shifted with a deep rumble. With a deep hiss, billowing steam and dust burst from the binding and moments after the reaction stopped. Then silence.

With a ground shaking groan, the vast stone slab was ejected from its housing several feet as though struck by a mighty blow. It then toppled over and cracked as it landed flat on the dusty paved floor, emitting a spiderweb of shattering earth all around the chamber. The room echoed for a time, as did the disturbed dust flutter and float as fresh air flowed and filled the space.

Two robed figures skulked in, slitted eyes darting about, tails creeping to and fro as they made sure it was safe. Then they removed their hoods, revealing horned, scaled heads, and finally a pair of masks, revealing short muzzles. Kobolds, or lesser drakes. One was purple and one a smoky green.

"At last," the purple one said as he swept his hands wide. "The true temple of the All-Dragon!"

The green one shrugged. "Alright, we're here, Mata. So what? It's just an old ruin."

"_Just_an old ruin?" Mata cackled and grabbed his companion's shoulder. "This is it! Years of research has led us to a true temple of the Almighty! Can't you feel it, Hapal?"

Hapal stepped away from his grip and gave the place another study. Her pupils thickened and thinned as she studied the room, briefly glowing as they shifted.

The temple was a long, wide hall, with columns scattered seemingly at random. The entrance and the passage they had used to reach it was an old crag-biter nest, consisting of natural caves and their intersecting spider tunnels, but within this hall was carefully cut stone slabs and marble tiled walls,. There was a vast font atop a thick plinth at one end and a huge, purposefully dug and brick-lined hole down the other. A number of small rooms lined the sides, with some collapsed and others empty with no signs of life.

That the temple was close to a crag-biter lair, yet showed no sign of their trespass. It was strange; they never let any open spaces underground go unused, usually for nests or feeding chambers, as though the crag-biters could tell they weren't supposed to encroach on this place, no foul play had been committed. It seemed whoever had once used this place just took their possessions and furniture and left.

She sniffed and shrugged. "Nope, I'm not feeling anything."

Mata made one of his usual wild smiles and pulled a scroll from his robes, unfurled it, and looked it over. He then bolted up to the font and studied the vessel, which was as tall as he was, so he climbed on top and loosed a low, disappointed hiss.

"Well, no wonder," he said, "once upon a time, they would have a special kind of sticky-puffball concoction for this, and that stuff lasts almost forever, but the font's all dry. We'll just have to use mana." Without another word, he drew a knife and sliced his forearm, then let the blood drip into the font as he winced and coaxed the wound. Magic rich blood poured smoothly and the splatting sound echoed through the hall.

"You really believe this fantasy, don't you?" Hapal said and caught up with Mata just as he hopped off the font.

He poured a small amount of a blue, syrupy liquid on the wound and bound his arm with a bandage.

"Everything we've seen tells me this is the place. It just has to be," he said, but his pleading told Hapal otherwise. The uncertainty was clear.

Hapal sighed. "As chief architect, It's not that I'm not impressed we've found this place. I won't doubt this is a curious ruin to withstand the quakes in this area, considering the poor placement of the columns and damage to the walls. Curious, but unconvinced. I fail to see how it will help Clan Glimmer-Crag."

"Then let me finish preparing the rite, and we'll see if this was all worth it."

Mata took out a large chunk of chalk from a belt pouch and began writing markings on the floor in a circle around the font. Hapal could tell it was draconic script, but it made no sense to her; the claw-like scratches were angled in weird ways that almost hurt hurt to look at, and even the letters and hieroglyphics, used to denote dragons in their language, were bizarre and skewed. He then started the long process of writing the length of the hall, and she realised it would take hours.

"So... what is this place? I know you said it was the first temple of the All-Dragon, but I don't know what that means. I know that the Dragonlords offer their hoards to him, but from what I've ever known, he's almost like a story to tell neonates to keep them from misbehaving when at the nursery."

Mata didn't look up from his work. "That's because he won't let his presence be truly known. The All-Dragon may be all powerful, but he's sleeping now, yet we can feel his dreams. Small wisps of his imagination flow through us as visions, but for the Dragonlords, they can understand them, decipher them, form spells. It has always been this way."

"But we learn spells like that too sometimes. Sure, we have to study for most of them, but my own conjuring of water-"

Mata chuckled loudly and looked up. "No, we learn spells this way through chance. Brief flashes of brilliance in the sleeping world. Our imagination briefly returning to that of the Dragonlords as we slumber, remembering the lives we once had as part of the Mass Collective in the shell of Dragonlords.

"It would be seen as blasphemy if we could control it. No, that is luck, and as we learn and study, we spend weeks and months where Dragonlords take but a single thought to learn to pull from beyond and create through magic. Everything we are and everything all dragonkind is and ever will be is bound to the All-Dragon and his deep slumber."

Hapal thought this over as Mata continued his scrawlings. She thought of a few questions she could ask, but every time she tried to say the words, she thought better of it. Finally, she decided to ask about the bigger picture. "So tell me about the All-Dragon."

Mata smiled. His pointed, dark grey tongue darting between his lips as he finished one line of strange markings, then began another as he took a deep breath.

"Once, before the world as we know it was formed, there was the All-Dragon..."

* * *

He was weary. Eons had passed, and he had experienced all that could be experienced and knew everything he could know. The All-Dragon grew fatigued and restless all at once.

Beyond all else, he knew he must sleep for a time. He knew not how long. This amused him, as this was the first time he did not know what was to pass, and made his decision to slumber all the easier.

So it was that the All-Dragon slept. And as he slept, he began to dream.

His dream required a form to function, and so it was that the All-Dragon imagined places where creations could be made and sustained. He imagined vast plateaus and mountains, intersected by great rivers and forests, surrounded by oceans and deserts. They wrapped around his thoughts as the shell of a great egg. Just as he was endless, so would this place seem to those that inhabited it. These places became known collectively as Aangorena.

Upon these places, the All-Dragon imagined beings to see and to hear and to touch these places so that he, in turn, could experience something new. He did not need to see, but he created their ability to see. He did not need to feel, so he gave them skin and scale. He did not need to taste, so he gave them tongues and minds with which to enjoy the bounty of the land.

They would know the bliss of companionship, for the All-Dragon had been alone as long as he could recall and desired to understand the many forms companionship could take. Some would copulate to pass on the blood, others would experience kinship that would be felt beyond all mortal ken.

But no utopia was this to be. For all things must perish, lest these creations become dull and indifferent. He wished to experience the need of these creatures, so he instilled a sense of triumph in them, so that the desperately hungry could have their taste enhanced when they finally slew a creature and feasted on its flesh. The thirsty could experience the bliss of cool water in the driest lands.

He wanted to know these things, and so he made them.

Yet all these lands demanded different creatures, and so it was that great and low mortals were created. Prey and predators, the clever and the slow, so that a natural order would form. Those that gained too much would become fat and sluggish, just as those that were driven would become strong and cunning. A balance would form. These creatures took many forms, but none felt familiar to the All-Dragon

Therefore the All-Dragon desired to create those that would allow his influence to be made manifest in the world, to feel his essence in the form of magic. So at the top of the new natural order, dragons would reside. But he, being of fair mind and infinite wisdom, deigned to create the lesser drake, who were small, servile and furtive. To demonstrate to all of this wisdom, these two dragonkin would form a symbiosis so that all would know how to live. The dragons would rule these creatures, the kobolds, and the kobolds would feel the All-Dragon's essence as it flowed from their great forms.

The All-Dragon's essence, his magic, would be as life with these dragons and kobolds. So it shall be that dragons need only small nourishment from the lesser creatures so as to not interfere with the natural order around them. This kinship between the All-Dragon and those given but a mere hint of his true form shall allow them to give the world magic, and be sustained by it.

* * *

"Wait, so the All-Dragon created dragons and the kobolds, that I get," Hapal said and tugged on one of her horns, "but what about the man-kin? And the rat-kin, and all the other over-cave species?"

Mata stood up and rubbed his back as he reached for another piece of chalk, but stopped. He was about halfway to the pit at the far end and as he looked at how much farther he had to go, he grumbled and walked over to the fallen stone door and sat on top. He then produced a waterskin, took a long drink and handed it to Hapal, who hopped up and rested beside him.

"Well, the All-Dragon realised that humans were going to rule the overcave before he finished making them, because they breed fast but don't live as long, and that they needed to be humbled by other creatures that walked and talked. The rat-kin are strong and sturdy, the bunny-kin are fast and nimble, and the crow-kin can mimic anything they see and hear. This way, man-kin wouldn't dominate the surface. Or so was the All-Dragon's wish, but humans still seem to have taken control.

"What's interesting is that I believe these other overcaver creatures were given a little bit of the All-Dragon's essence, so they would gain these greater abilities above humanity; just as Dragonlord's can learn all things, be stronger and be more cunning and fast for their size, so too can the crow-kin recall, the rat-kin be mighty and the bunny-kin be swift of mind and body. In fact, I would almost guarantee there's a 'wound' somewhere in the lands that made all of them."

Hapal drank some water and handed the skin back, then seemed to be in deep thought. "A wound?"

"There are places where the land has been hurt from great Dragonlord wars and meteors falling from the sky, and when they do enough harm, they crack the world in such a way to form wounds. These places begin to seep magic from within the world. It certainly makes it less boring for the All-Dragon. It's like when kobold neonates sometimes are born with mana wounds of their own, so instead of magic flowing through them smoothly, it catches inside them and makes them sickly, or smarter, or any number of strange effects."

"Oh, so like Atas and his ability to spit little fireballs! Okay, so going back to the All-Dragon... you said he just wants to experience things he can't otherwise, right? You never answered where he is, either, or why he's tired."

"Yes, he dreams to give us gifts and, in turn, when we pass away it lets us show him our lives when we're re-spun back into the great cycle, so then we're brought back as another kobold, or a even a Dragonlord, or as magic to be burned casting spells if we've done poorly in our lives. As for where he is and why he sleeps... I don't know. I suppose everything and everyone needs to rest at some point."

Mata took out a cloth-wrapped bundle and handed Hapal a few crackers, took the rest for himself, and placed a pot of purple paste between them. They dipped their crackers and ate in silence for a few minutes, but no sooner as Mata had finished his, he stood back up, took another piece of chalk, and resumed his work.

Hapal explored the rooms again, but soon grew bored as no sight or sign of living seemed to ever take place here. There were no bones, no dried blood, no scraped stone floors by claw or moved furniture. An abandoned place often meant conflict, internal or external, or a struggle of resources to maintain life, yet there was nothing. A suspicious amount of nothing. She tapped her grey-green scaled chin with her claws, then ran her hand over her cheek and along one of her short, broad horns. No conflict...

"Hmm." She returned to Mata and said, "so if the All-Dragon made all these things in balance, why do humans and dragons hate each other?"

Again, Mata didn't look up from his work as he replied, "that's a bit more complicated..."

* * *

For a time, all was well. Dragons flourished and the lesser drakes served them, for this was the correct way to live, and humans and other species found themselves flourishing in turn. The All-Dragon had given them no blessing of his essence, his magic, but had gifted them keen minds, second only to dragons. They acted as the lesser drakes by forming clans, and they elected those who were the best of them, just as dragons would also rule.

And yet, as grand as the All-Dragon is, this was a mistake. Humans soon began to grow fearful of the dragons and their gifts, and so they would gather their strength and strike out of misguided drive to protect themselves against a perceived threat. When wounded, they no longer accepted their pain and instead used the land to cure themselves. Instead of relying on their might, they found ways to weaken and slay others through foulness.

For this, humanity found a champion, who could bind any wound and cure any cut, and his knowledge could in turn poison and corrupt living creatures. So it was that humanity found the one known as Gareg, Humanlord of Life and Death. So it was that humanity committed the sin of gluttony, corrupting the All-Dragon's land to tarnish and break the natural order and refusing to pass away when nature ordained, so desperate to consume life as they were.

Dragons were truly mighty, and yet they were not insurmountable. And as time passed, the humans that had deigned to succeed in slaying dragons would pass on their knowledge, and those of keen minds would fashion tools from the land to enhance their ability to hunt their betters. Dragons learned to fear the cowardly ways and slew the Humanlord of Life and Death. In retaliation, humanity would seek another.

For this, humanity found a champion, who could slay any other being, and his skill would drive others into a frenzy and fury unlike any other. So it was that humanity found the one known as Vanterre, Humanlord of War and Strife. So it was that humanity committed the sin of wrath, wanton bloodshed and suffering, corrupting the All-Dragon's spirit to not hunt beyond their station nor throw lives away for the cause of another.

So it came to be that dragons spurned humanity and would avoid them, lest they in turn be hunted. For this, Vanterre was struck down for his hubris. But in the lingering pride of their ability to slay dragonkind, so it was that humanity sought to bolster their number. They would paint themselves to cause false desire, mating even species not their own out of a desperate need to propagate.

For this, humanity found a champion, who would instil the base need to mate beyond mere procreation, and so came to pass the foulness of vanity. To place impurity on the skin to mask the true self. So it was that humanity found the one known as Phoebe, Humanlord of so-called Love and Motherhood. So it was that humanity committed the sin of lust and ceaseless birth, corrupting the All-Dragon's desire that the lesser beings mate and still enjoy procreation, but not fall victim to feckless and wanton desire.

As they painted and clad themselves in things that shined and shimmered, humanity would covet more and more adornments, and dug and climbed beyond where they should be, encroaching on the other creatures that had once lived in peace, and were now hunted for this endless vanity. Such was this desire that humanity themselves slew Phoebe out of her endless desire to lay with others. But her example led more and more humans into demanding others deify themselves as visions of supposed beauty.

For so it was that humanity learned that, just as the Great Shell of Aangorena was born of the All-Dragon, the Great Shell held great power in turn. Within the stone and earth, jewels and magnificent metals would be treasured and bring dragons closer to their father, and humans learned of this and began to not be satisfied with finding these precious things as was ordained by the All-Dragon, but sought to steal as much as they could.

For this, humanity found a champion, who would travel far and wide to steal as much of the All-Dragon's bounty as she could, and barter lesser for greater against true value as nature granted. So it was that humanity found the one known as Valarie, Humanlord of Fortune, Trade and Oceans. So it was that humanity committed the sin of endless greed and coveting that which they did not own, corrupting the All-Dragon's wishes that they only use and take what the land would give of its own accord.

This affront made dragons detest humanity even more. They would seek out and take from humans to help purify the lesser creatures, but humanity's greed would in turn make them seek and hunt out dragons no longer out of fear. Just as like, dragons had no choice but to slay humans as they protected their ill-gotten, farcical hoards with endlessly dire walls.

They would plunder the land ceaselessly and erect structures to act as the scales of humanity, and enslave creatures they saw as lesser to their whims in cowardice. They would even covet their possessions enough to construct devices to protect these things, so afraid were they to spend their own blood.

For this, humanity found a champion, who would pillage the land of its bounty and the animals and bend them both to his will. So it was that humanity found the one known as Dastor, Humanlord of Protection, Locks and Nature. So it was that humanity committed the sin of sloth in their refusal to protect on their own merit, corrupting the All-Dragon's wishes that all living things do not deplete the lives of others without proving themselves in turn by sacrificing all but themselves.

For all their apparent strength, humanity would still struggle to defeat dragonkind, but through vile determination, they caused the Grim Slaying in the west. Yet the All-Dragon's will would not let dragons be culled. So it was that his essence would birth a dragon of even greater might. So majestic was this creature, that humanity finally coveted the All-Dragon's essence itself.

For this, humanity found a champion, who would bend magic to their will in the most heinous corruption of the natural order of all. So it was that humanity found the one known as Zoeli, Humanlord of Magic and All-knowing Senses. So it was that humanity committed the sin of envy, and created perverse objects of destructive power to slay the majestic dragon and stole the essence they were never meant to control, and seal humanity's fate once and for all as the enemy of dragonkind.

* * *

"... and man-kin have the audacity to worship these perversions of the natural way." Mata scowled as he discarded the remaining tiny sliver of chalk. He had finished his markings, stood and dusted himself down. "Saints, they call them! At least they're all dead now, but not before they slew all of our kin on Bralran. Now they're waiting for another monster, another so-called saint to arise from their number, and we have yet to see a new boon from the All-Dragon to help fight against them."

Hapal mused, "I never realised the All-Dragon would change dragons like that in response to our numbers dwindling. What sort of boons might they be?"

"It might present as an especially large brood of dragonlords, or one dragonlord may be given tremendous strength." Mata began to walk back to the font, and Hapal followed. He continued, "the dragonlord born after the Grim Slaying in the west was larger than any that had been seen in recorded history, and so rich was his magic, he breathed it raw, uncorrupted by the elements by which all others are limited. It was at once terrible and glorious to behold, or so it was written."

They reached the font and Mata once more studied his scroll, nodded to himself and handed it to Hapal. She looked at it, confused, and asked, "what are you doing, exactly? This looks like it has a rhythm."

"So, that hole," Mata said and pointed at the far end of the hall, to the vast opening in the ground, "is a wound in the Great Shell of Aangorena, attuned to the same tones that the dreaded Siren dragons can speak. This is also the way through which the All-Dragon's thoughts can be felt if you know how to call for him, to make him stir in his slumber, if for but a moment."

She rolled up the scroll and stowed it in her travel bag. "Is- is that a good idea? Why would we need to disturb his sleep?"

Mata grinned. A great, mad smile. "The All-Dragon's thoughts invoke tremendous power and magic beyond all measure. Imagine if we could evoke such a response at will! To strike back at Bralran and punish them for slaying dragonkind from their land! A throng of kobolds, each as powerful as a Dragonlord, and Dragonlords as mighty as the one born after the Grim Slaying!"

"Does Her Mightiness Paalaagri know of this?" Hapal stepped back as Mata raised his hands toward the font.

"No, she refused and considered it blasphemy. But this slight against our kin must be answered. It's all I've dreamed of since piecing together our records from that time. Imagine it! Dragonkind in the skies above Bralran once more, as it should be!" Mata chuckled to himself and began casting a spell, uttering a few whispered words and flowing gestures.

"I don't know about this..." Hapal pleaded, "what if we anger the All-Dragon? Or if something goes wrong with all this evoking or invoking stuff?"

Mata ignored her as, with a manic cheer, he swing a pointed finger in an arc from the font, overhead and toward the 'wound.' The blood in the font floated and swirled into a roiling sphere, then shot across the hall and down the gaping hole, leaving a trail of fine, red mist.

A laborious silence settled in, even as Mata's outcry echoed about and faded. Hapal looked at the 'wound', then at the wide stare of Mata as his toothy grin faded and flattened out. "No... this can't- impossible! I double checked every section of the rite... Hapal, give me the scroll."

Hapal could feel something. Something profane. She looked once more at the wound, then Mata and shook her head. "M- maybe we should cut out losses and leave, Mata." She clutched at her haversack, holding it shut.

Mata chuckled and gave her a smile. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Hapal. We have everything to gain." the smile faded a little and his eyes focused on her travel back. "Just hand me the scroll."

A deep boom rattled through the temple. Hapal yelped and scrambled to the nearest column for safety, but Mata just snickered and looked around in wonderment. The lingering blood mist fluttered down and, rather than just settle as it fell, the droplets moved and formed a zigzag along the scattered, misshapen words and draconic depictions.

Hapal gasped as she saw the skewed words. They were angled, and now painted, to make it so each string of bizarre scrawlings formed a sentence hiding amongst the gibberish.

It read, 'As we mine the earth, we feel you. As we drink your blood, we taste you. As we dream of you, dream of us. Awaken.'

"I can feel you, Oh Great One! Do you feel me?" Mata called out, and the corresponding, bloodied chalk sizzled and burned blue. "I can taste you on the air, Oh Great One! Do you taste me? I dream of you, Oh Great One! Dream of me!!"

The words flashed and burned away. Their vapours swirled and surrounded Mata, who's rapturous, joyous calls turned to coughs and chokes. Still he grinned and spread his arms wide.

Finally, from the 'wound,' the ball of blood hovered up and spread vertically, drawing it out into an oval, then a line that was thicker in the middle. The smoke left Mata and spun around the floating gore. A sphere of smoke with a long, familiar slit-shape formed in blood

A great, crimson eye. It regarded them both, and like the chastising stare of a Dragonlord, it sent a fear stronger than anything Hapal had ever felt through every inch of her body and part of her soul.

Hapal fled as fast as her legs would carry her. The maze of tunnels, which had taken them a full half an hour to traverse, rushed by as she heard a deep, thrumming growl from behind, followed by a Mata's distant and desperate scream. It wasn't until she made it to the surface, where dawn was on the approach, that she stopped and realised she was exhausted.

She whimpered and wrung her hands, then paced back and forth. She was afraid to even look at the well concealed entrance, but also felt compelled to try and help the head archivist of clan Glimmer-Crag, but she was no fighter, nor especially skilled at combat magics. Until this day, she hadn't even considered the All-Dragon being more than just some ancient drake and that all the tales about him were about any other dragonlord which had garnered some fame or infamy. In the end, she sat on a nearby rock and just cried.

The whole canyon felt dangerous now. Mata was a potent spellcaster and well experienced with these surface excursions. She didn't care for her safety as the confusion and the lingering sense of wrongness persisted and kept her seated on the flat stone and kept her head buried in her hands.

After a couple of hours, as the sun began to peak over the horizon, she had calmed down. Hapal put on her dark blue lensed overcave goggles and began to head back towards their sheltered camp down the valley. She could gather what she could carry and make the week long journey back to the clan, and hope she wouldn't be punished.

But as she neared a knotted rope that would let her climb back out of the canyon, she gave a final glance at the cave entrance.

And there, covered in ragged, bloody robes, stood Mata.

He staggered forward, his hand reaching and almost pleading to Hapal.

She ran to him and caught him as he stumbled.

Mata croaked, "I saw it! Inside the shell! I saw him! And the Great cycle! I... saw..."

He spoke no more and drifted into unconsciousness, but he did so with yet another wide, crazed grin.

The End