Silence...The first thing he noticed was silence...There wasn't a single sound...normally he could guess where he was by the echoes, not unlike a bat, but here...there was no noise to echo with...he'd have to open his eyes to find out what was happening...it was strange, he couldn't even hear his own heartbeat. The blood flowing in his ears. His breathing. He wasn't breathing. He didn't feel like he needed to. Experimenting, he tried to inhale. He felt nothing. He
couldn't breath...
He opened his eyes. He was surrounded by bones. Who's bones? He tried to smell the air, flicking his tongue out. Nothing happened. He tried to explore his mouth with his tongue. Nothing. Either he had no tongue, or it, and the rest of his mouth, was numb. With a start, He realized he couldn't feel the floor beneath his feet. Was he under some spell? A numbing spell? Perhaps the bi-product of a sleep spell? Who's bones was he laying above?
He leaned down from the pedistal he was resting on, bringing his eye as close to the bones as he could. There were fragments of cloth here...he recognized that symbol...but where? A book with a femur on the binding...it was a marker...it meant the wearer was a member of...of a...cult? The Worshipers of Galazia! They worshiped a dead god.
So the gaps in his memory weren't permenant. That was good. Best to find his bearings, or something else to trigger memories with. He examined the chamber; the roof was very high, clearly meant for someone of his size. He extended his wings, which also felt numb, but there WAS the sensation of movement, at least. He couldn't feel any air currents, though, so he had to trust the air was a still as it was silent.
With the sound of groaning bones, He lept into the air, and flew over the piles of bones until he arrived at the nearest exit to the chamber; it was big enough for two of him to pass through: had he come from this direction? He had assumed he was teleported; Dragons are notoriously heavy when sleeping. The internal magics that kept them from crushing their legs under their own weight reduced themselves while sleeping, to conserve energy.
Walking down the passage, He listened to his feet make clacking noises as he walked. He had noticed the sounds his body made when he took to the air, but he didn't want to confirm his suspicions, so he didn't look down and check. He wasn't ready to even think about the possibility too much just yet.
He came to another room, this one with piles of treasure. In the middle was a sword, still stuck in the stone he'd found it in. He'd found it? Yes...it was a king's sword, left for a king's heir. The prize of his hoard. So they had not just kidnapped him, but relocated his hoard? But there was no magics keeping him caged...and it had appeared the entire hall was dead. So what had killed them?
He suspected he knew what had killed them, but his memory was being stubborn...He continued exploring. he found a room with books strewn throughout, with one on a large pedastal, open to the page involving a ritual; The creation of a dragolitch. Unable to resist any longer, He looked down at his bony body: He was dead. A walking skeleton. He still had his mind, but somehow that didn't make him feel any better... He would have to find his phylactery and destroy it. The magic that sustained his body was evil, and his life was not worth the cost on his soul. He gained a shard of a memory as he thought about the phylactery. A gemstone the size of his own fist, which glowed with the light of the stars. An Archenstone? Had this cult defiled such a relic? Their vile evil knew no bounds!
He began searching the remaining rooms, looking for the corrupted Archenstone. It would most likely be hidden, they wouldn't want him to be able to get at it; the cult would have wanted to control him with it. As he entered rooms that looked almost familiar, he heard a voice carry back to him from his memories.
"The sacrifice is ready! Tonight we shall summon Galazia!"
"Come, my flock! Our lord awaits us! Just as we prepare this world for his coming, so too, does he prepare a heavenly host for us, payment for our blood!"
"Closer now, closer! You must be within the outer circle if you want your soul to reach our lord! Bring me the Archenstone!"
"Per sanguinem et dolore
absorbate anima mea
thuribulum fac, Domine!"Their leader had lead a ritual? That turned Him into a dragolitch? why? What benefit had there been in turning a captive? He continued searching for some clue as to what had happened.
"My Lord, the stone is ready; we await you're command." "Excellent. Pass out the sacrificial daggers! Remember to act on my signal! Just as you've practiced, my flock!"Suicide? The entire cult had used their own blood to fuel the ritual? This didn't make any sense at all...
Finally, he came to a room who's floor was a single smooth plate of silver, reflecting back at him. And in his reflection he saw his skeleton in full...including the glowing Archenstone, placed where one of his eyes would have been. With the realization came a final recollection, bringing back all the remaining memories he lacked.
"Lord Galazia! What are we doing with an Archenstone?" "My pet, could you imagine anything less perfect for our ritual? No, it must be an Archenstone; I will not have my soul rest in any other vessel! Prepare the flock, it is time..."Galazia stared at his one-eyed reflection in the floor, and smiled darkly...
EDIT: {Ironically, the above story is just 6 words short of being a thousand words long. I wish I could say this was intentional.}
NEXT!
