By: Shamrockin13

Chapter 1

Requiem

Juan meddled with his ceremonial rope hanging at his side. He had good right to be nervous.

Today was his thirteenth birthday, and it was the day of the Ceremony of the Dragon. Several others of his peers, some from his schooling, others from more rural origin also fidget near him. They also must be excited. Today was the day that they were to prove their worth. Thirteen was a superstitious number in Kamna, and these newly made adolescents were to prove their worth and loyalty to the very elders of the town and reject the evil of the Xantina, the Great Talon. Thirteen was considered to be the ripe age for the Xantina to make its approach and snatch away youths that may have an inkling of the Power to harvest them for its own.

This is why they had the Ceremony. To fish out those with the Blessing and align themselves with the law and the power of the elders before the Xantina had the opportunity to. Many a time, they had just managed to save an individual and bless them before it was too late, but there were occasions where even the elders had been too late to save the life of one and they had had no choice but to sacrifice them for mercy. Others, the night before the Ceremony, mysteriously disappeared into the Black Forest which surrounded the town of Blackwood (hence the name). The following morning would be a short memorial commemorating the poor lost soul who now was in the mercy of the Great Spirit as it fought Xantina in the dawn and dusk of the sky.

Many a time, Juan watched the Celebrants as they attempted to awaken their recessive Gift. Some were able to, others appeared at a failure. Juan had never seen the result of the Awakening, but the participant apparently knew when he had succeeded and when he had obviously failed. Some had it in them, others didn't. Rumor was that all the elders possessed the gift and it was how they had been able to protect Blackwood for as long as they could. Juan had also heard that fewer and fewer individuals were Gifted. Chances were that he wouldn't know what the gift was, that he would fail and never understand why the Ceremony was held in the first place.

Juan was jostled from his worries as someone to his right nudged him.

"Calm down Juan. You don't have to worry. Either way it turns out, Xantina won't get to you. If you have the power, the elders will protect you and if you don't, Xantina won't have interest in you anyways."

Juan looked at the person who had spoken. It was Vera. She was only a week older than him and always seemed to have a serene persona. She always was able to calm anyone's nerves. Now was no exception. Juan let out a whistle of air as he acknowledged Vera. Vera smiled as her bright emerald eyes twinkled with acceptance.

Vera gestures forward again towards an elder who was beginning the Ceremony. Juan tightened his rope once more and fingered the jeweled blade in a naked sheath as he watched the first teen step forward at the call of his name.

"Hansel Greatriver, come forward to unlock your hidden soul."

The elder didn't seem as old as the others, he still had traces of black in his snarled beard of grey and white.

Hansel stepped towards the elder. Juan had never seen him before. He was stocky and somewhat tall. Perhaps only a half inch shorter than Juan. Still, Hansel walked with confidence and determination until he stood next to the elder, whom he dwarfed. The elder was rather small compared to many of the waiting initiates.

The elder began in the readings of legends and the vows. Juan knew them all by heart, but he listened for any variations between last year's and this one's.

The elder began in a voice much stronger than Juan expected to come from such a frail looking man:

"In centuries past, we have had the protection of our most powerful Gifted ones to protect the land of Kamna. However, we must honor the story on how these gifts came to be.

We were not always so powerful. Alternately, we hid and fled in the presence of anything which could have proved a threat. And our most dangerous threat were_"

The elder reached within his long sleeve and brought out a clenched hand.

"Dragons!"

He hissed throwing the contents in his hand into the fire brazier. From the bowl, the greedy flames swallowed the content and exploded with a deafening roar of a dragon. A blue dragon flared to life above the fire and screamed, exhaling blue tongues of fire and widening its wings, stretching its bone and membrane until it was at least a foot tall and its wingspan another foot. The gathered townspeople gasped at this spectacle as their faces glowed blue from the light.

The dragon dissolves into ashes and the darkness of night sets back in again as the elder continues.

"Dragons were the rulers of that ancient age, and they saw to it that all nature was to remain in balance.

Blue dragons to guard and protect all water creatures and all clear streams. Red dragons to protect and control the volcano's rage, Green, to defend and fight for all animal and plant life, Brown, to sew together the plates of the world and to sleep where it was unstable, White, to control the skies and collaborate with the Blue to create the life giving rain, Gold, to harness the energy and warmth of the sun and keep the world warm, Black, to protect the world at night when all other dragons slept and to guard the world from outside threats, Grey, to create lightning and thunder and prove to all creatures that you cannot defy nature, and the last_"
The elder had been creating the forms of the dragons when he mentioned them, each more spectacular and mighty than the last. When he reached the last race, he allowed all other figures to dissolve and the fire dampened before he continued.

"The last species is the most mysterious. The Purple dragons never mingled with more of their kind or any other race of dragon. They were solitary hermits, keeping to their territory and their own tasks. Their jobs were to guide any creature close to death away from life and lead them to their own caverns where they prepare a place for them at their table and their realm. This is why it is said that if one is close to death, regardless if you possess the Power, you may see the dark violet scales of the dragon and feel the warmth of their wings as they close your eyes with their own claws. They gently perch you upon their backs as they fly away, past the stars, past the moon, through the sight of the Great Spirit and to their realm of eternal life. They pity mortals and if one senses loss within your soul, they will do anything in their powers to assist you. It is the least that they can do. This is the only moment when they shall meet another of their kind, especially if another has been met with the same concern."

The fires glowed purple as the scenes were created. A Purple dragon, a human close to death with the dragon gently closing their eyes and finally the spirit of the mortal riding the dragon. In this moment, the flames flew towards the moon and gently dissolved into silver sparks. As Juan watched, the fires grew pitch black and the elder's voice grew more ominous as the flames dampened, glowing with the deep indigo form of a purple dragon. Juan knew it's name before the elder spoke it.

"Xantina was one. She was undoubtedly the oldest of her kind and the most powerful. What she longed for, however, was much too dangerous and mad for even one such as powerful as her. The Great Spirit would not allow it, even when Xantina confronted him in an audience before all Dragonkind."

The Great Dragon Council appeared in the flames with Xantina raging in the center at a silver form. The Great Spirit. The elder continued.

"Not only did the Great Spirit deny Xantina's ambitions, but the whole of Dragonkind rejected her, banishing her from the Great Council for eternity."

The fire forms of the Council disappeared, replaced by a form of Xantina flying through the Ironwood forest with a number of spectres following at her tail.

"In an unholy rage, Xantina slew thousands in their prime to create an army which would never tire or need any substantial food, drink or rest. In her realm within the Ironwood, her Afterlife reflected her madness and fury, becoming a place of terror, agony, nightmares, and strife. In this realm, she trained her army to overthrow the Great Spirit and all who denied her. Only one other dragon accompanied her. Belonging to the race of the Black Dragons, Regnar, the Darkhearted, stood by her side, assisting her on wings of darkness. Slowly, Xantina passed the point of no return and descended into madness, as did Regnar."

A black dragon began to fly next to Xantina, shielding her with the shadows of night.

"Great Spirit discovered Xantina's madness and Regnar's betrayal and was greatly troubled. He gathered together the Dragon Council and together they created a power which could defend mankind, the most intelligent and advanced of the world who Xantina coveted the most for their sturdiness and confidence.

The council took the leader of one tribe of man to their councils. He was Chieftain Elkhoof. The dragons were so taken in by his wonder at their generosity and their majesty and his will to end the terror of Xantina, the Great Claw, that the dragons blessed him and his tribe with a mark upon their cheek and their forearm."

The fires now showed an image of a man with three vertical scores on his right cheek, jagged like those of a dragon's claw marks and on his forearm, a symbol which looked like a capital J with a dot over the top of the cross, along with another mark just below it. It was the profile of a White dragon, its high crests magnificent and the eye horns intimidating.

"The first cheek mark stood for the spirit of the dragon residing in them. The scar on the forearm stood for a Marked one and the mark below that one stood for what race of dragon the Marked was gifted with. The Marked could call upon one Draconic spirit from the realm of the forgotten to assist them in moral, battle, and diplomatic scenarios. The message was the same in all ways. The Marked were created to defend the Great Spirit and defeat the evils of Xantina and Regnar."

A Marked stood before Xantina and Regnar in the flames now.

"Xantina, understanding the ways of the Great Spirit, saw how much more powerful this race had become and with the additional assistance of another dragon, she could not kill them."

The Marked stabbed once at Xantina and Regnar, appearing as if he may win the battle. Juan frowned and began to feel sick, for he knew what was to happen next in the story.

"However, this did not mean they were unstoppable or useless to her purposes. Rather, they could help her forces immensely. Xantina and Regnar were clever and deceitful, promising many of the Marked additional power beyond that which the Great Spirit offered them. Many Marked laid down their weapons and joined Xantina's cause in the promises that she would elevate them when they finally won the war. But others refused. Xantina refused to let such Draconic Spirit go to waste or allow the warrior to leave and find more of his kind to assist him. So she did what was the safest way to dispose of the warrior which could not be killed by her claws."

In the fire, Xantina loomed over the Marked as Regnar closed off his escape. The Marked was trapped. Xantina wasted no time, watching the Marked panic at her claws. When she had him cornered, she opened her giant jaws, extended her tongue and snatched the Marked in her fangs.

"She devoured them whole."

Xantina did not crush the Marked in her jaw. Instead, as the figure struggled, Xantina extended her long neck skywards, letting the Marked fall further in. Bit by bit, even as the Marked struggled with his sword, and his White Dragon spirit, trying its best to assist him could not stop Xantina from swallowing him a foot at at time. The last thing that remained was the Marked's hand, pointing directly skyward as Xantina finally gulped the Marked down her gullet.

"Her gizzard, darkened by the blackest magic, restrained all the Marked which she swallowed. Their swords went directly to her stomach, disarming the captured souls. Some say that the warriors still live, even after centuries of imprisonment, others say that when they died, their Draconic Spirit strengthened Xantina's magic and her physical form. Some say that when their spirits are completely devoured, they say that Xantina regurgitates them and devours them for good, others say they are just left to rot in eternal darkness of total sin. Both say that the souls of the Marked join Xantina's army for training, forced to withstand agony and pain on a daily basis. Still others believe they still live, fighting the darkness and continual promises of Xantina. Those who have been completely broken are confronted by Xantina for a second chance to join her army. Some accept, and some decline. Either way, Xantina is still a threat and hunts young ones who have not even discovered their Gift.

This is our reason for the Ceremony."

The whole crowd was silent for an uncomfortable time before the elder turned to the boy who was now pale with fright. Juan knew there was much more to the story, but this was the reason for the Ceremony, so he remained silent.

"Hansel, you may step forward for your Revelation."

Hansel gulps and steps towards the elder. Juan spotted Hansel wiping a hand on his scarlet robe, which was almost identical to his own.

The elder placed his thumb on the boy's forehead as he spoke.

"Hansel Greatriver, do you promise to uphold the virtues of the Marked? To truly stand against Xantina and Ragnar and fight for the Great Spirit who has promised to welcome us to his realm when the war is over and to assist all who cannot help themselves in the face of darkness and in fear?"

Hansel shook as he glanced around the crowd gathered around the fire.

"I_I do." He stuttered.

The elder nodded and continued.

"And Hansel, do you promise to uphold the virtues which your spirit will grant to you without doubt or fear?"

"I do."

"And, Hansel, do you promise that, in encountering the great evil of Xantina, you will fight as bitterly and as mightily as your body will allow and never to accept the briberies that She places before you, no matter how great they appear?"

Hansel faltered, no doubt remembering the Marked warrior in the flames. Finally, he sets his jaw and says, almost in a shout.

"I do!"

The elder smiles at Hansel and extends his other hand.

"The knife, Hansel."

Hansel reaches down to the dagger in his belt. Encrusted with scarlet rubies and framed in gold, the blade was wickedly sharp and made of pure iron.

The elder takes the blade and holds Hansel's hand in place. Hansel watches entranced as the elder chants in a low murmur the concluding rites. Finally, the elder releases his thumb from Hansel's forehead and pricks himself, drawing bright blood. He also pricks Hansel's and their blood mingles as the elder presses his thumb to Hansel's. Hansel, gratefully enough, does not cry out in pain or surprise, but watches with a pained expression as the elder says aloud.
"Let the succession of the Draconic kin continue within this boy as he upholds his promise to the Great Spirit and to his town of Blackwood!"

The elder withdraws his hand and smears the mingled blood on Hansel's forearm and in three streaks on his right cheek.

For a moment, all of the townspeople wait with baited breath as to if this child could possibly be one of the Marked.

Finally, the elder bows his head to Hansel and extends a hand, telling him to sit with the rest of his family. Hansel nods back, disappointed, but makes his way through the crowd to his family. His pride was hopefully not all that tarnished. After all, becoming a Marked one was a great responsibility and not very many were blessed to be one. Hansel didn't look all that disappointed as he sat on the log with his family. In fact, his family was praising him for being exactly who he was. His mother was washing away the blood on his cheek and forearm and his father was ruffling his brown hair.

Juan ran a hand through his own wild mocha mane, imagining another hand doing the same to him. His parents had left town when he was very young. He didn't even remember their names. He had been raised by his other relatives, but each of them didn't really care about him. It was almost like they took every opportunity to act like they weren't really related to him. While it did hurt deep inside, it had been good for helping him speak for himself and stand up for himself to make a living. He was so busy thinking about his late parents that he hardly heard his name finally be called by the elder.

"Juan Argent. Step forward for your Revelation."

As if in a dream, Juan stumbled forward towards the elder. Now he could see the elder's eyes. A faded grey with a deeper look to them than Juan had imagined before. The elder's eyes sparkled as he put his thumb to Juan's forehead.

The elder repeated the same ritual that he had to Hansel and the other teens that had been in front of him. It appeared that no others had had any success.

Juan stumbled through the vows without hearing anything but the pounding of his heartbeat in his head. He swore to uphold the laws of justice, to deny Xantina and to assist those without any hope of their own. Finally, the elder gestured for the knife.

Head still pounding, Juan reached for the knife. It was different from Hansel's. All the students were given a knife that best described their personas and their looks. Juan's was a pearl studded dagger with an obsidian blade.

The elder took the blade, removed his thumb from Juan's forehead and pricked it, reopening the wound created from the first few teens. In that moment, Juan began to panic, the elder's thumb had been somewhat comforting and now that it was gone, he didn't know how to stay calm in such a dramatic situation.

Somehow, he pulled himself through his anxiety as the elder extended Juan's hand and pricked his thumb for him. The sting was surprising and he almost jerked back from the shock, but he quelled his fears as the elder pressed their thumbs together. The elder's mouth moved, but Juan could not hear the words which followed.

The elder dropped Juan's hand and smeared the blood in three jagged streaks down Juan's right cheek, the shape of the symbol seen in the flames on his forearm, as well as an additional dot right below the J where the dragon head profile was to appear.

The elder stepped back as Juan stood there, feeling the itch of his punctured thumb and the feel of the newly hardening blood on his face and arm. For a moment, Juan was relieved that he would not be chosen as a Marked and that he could live out his life in relative safety. Juan stepped towards the brazer, but stopped short as a ripping sensation tore through his right cheek.

Juan let out a sharp cry and collapsed to his knees, scratching at it.

The marks were no longer blood. There was no blood on his cheek anymore.

A similar pain flared though his left forearm where the second set of marks were. A knifelike feeling began to slice its way into the pattern in which the symbol was etched, as well as the where the profile should be.

Juan weakly looked at his arm to see a waterfall of blood obscuring it.

He took his other trembling hand and carefully wiped the blood away long enough to see the J symbol and the beginnings of the head of a dragon.

Somehow, he knew this was supposed to happen, but his muscles and nerves told him that it was extremely wrong. This mutilation should not be happening. What on earth was going on?

As Juan panted on his knees, his bloodied arms covering his eyes and his bleeding cheek, someone spoke to him.

'Quiet young one. I shall heal you.'

Juan lifts his head for a moment, seeing all of the concerned townspeople around his view.
In a quivering voice, much weaker than he meant it to sound, he whispered.
"Who spoke to me?"

'I did Juan. I shall heal you. I am sorry for injuring you in this way.'

The voice was definitely feminine, but had a touch of harshness in it. A harshness that seemed to leave a mysterious feeling of dread in the pit of Juan's stomach.

The townspeople began to whisper among themselves at this boy who had gone mad over the Ceremony. Finally, the celebratory elder pushed through the crowd and lifted Juan to his feet.

That was when he saw the Green Spirit Dragon.

Its double ridge of spines extended from its head crest all the way to the tip of its tail. Its wings were large and majestic and the spirit seemed to twine around the elder's body. Once round the hip, second round the middle, and finally, round the shoulders.

The elder looked into the brazer and reached a hand in.

From the flames, the head of a dragon appeared. The itching on Juan's cheek, forearm and thumb stopped all at once as the freed Spirit Dragon curled around his neck.

'Greetings My Kindred.' Said the Red Spirit Dragon.

'I am Requiem.'