The Curse

Aarik circled the Xolotl.

It did not move, totally still as it observed him. More statue than living being.

Aarik thrust his weapon, muscles in his forearms curling and rippling as he advanced on the creature. The spear embedded itself in the lean stomach of the Xolotl.

Nothing.

With a muttered curse, Aarik pulled his spear from the creature with a sickening squelch.

He tried again.

And again.

Failure after failure yielded no results.

Lightning sparked through the broken remnants of a window. Water collected on the walls, slowly sliding down them.

Drip drip.

Sthuna’s blood and acid mixed with the tar of the Xolotl. This was an exercise in futility. Sthuna watched the spear in the low light of the room, the wicked gleam as it came down again and again. This did not feel like a hunt. This felt like something demented.

A soft sound cut through the dark.

It was a pitched sound, unlike the storm and the quiet violence in the room. A mewl. Sthuna whipped his head up, seeking the source.

The Xolotl did, also. The first flicker of movement in a long time. It slid towards the darkest corner of the room. The dark flesh blended in with the shadows, as if embraced lovingly by them.

Lightning flared through a crack in the wall. The brief illumination flooded the corner with eerie light, chasing shadows until they fled into sharply dancing patterns. Cold black stone. Claw marks across the floor. And a tiny, mewling pup.

There is no mistaking what he saw.

A tiny Xolotl pup. Little ears folded to it’s skull. A soft pink mouth. It whimpered softly and squirming. It possessed the sweetness of infancy that the adult lacked. No preternatural stillness. A tiny creature filled with life. The Xolotl curled protectively around it.

Sthuna felt sick.

It all made sense now. He hadn't been tracking the adult. The scent that he had found in the wilderness was the scent of the pup. Possibly its birth.

The light faded, leaving the room in shadows.

Aarik laughed.

Had his Keeper known? Had this, too, been something kept from Sthuna? His hearts were pounding so loudly he could barely sense anything. Fear, and something with sharp edges, kindred to panic, flooded him. This was wrong. All of it.

Aarik turned on Sthuna.

Something dark and mad flickered in his eyes. Sthuna could see the shadows, drawn long and hard within that cruel countenance.

“Keeper?”

Sthuna hesitated. For in that moment, he wasn’t the proud war wyrm. He was just a lost little hatchling. Tail curled protectively inward, he looked up with wide eyes upon the most important person to him. His guardian. His caregiver. His-

“... Dad?”

Aarik’s lip curled.

The memory played out on its inevitable trajectory.

The room was thick with the scent of ozone, trailing in the wake of the Xolotl. Outside the room, storm clouds were heavy and dark. The rumble of thunder. But inside the room, sparks burst against stone - as if someone were grinding metal to a blade.

Thick, heavy blood pooled upon the ground. Claws slid on the slippery stones below, grasping for purchase on something. Anything.

Sthuna looked down.

There was something embedded in his chest. A long, sharpened blade that glinted in the low light. Aarik’s spear. Sthuna’s blood coated it, staining his chest. With weak movements, Sthuna curled his claws towards it, uncomprehending. Struggling to process the sight of such a foreign object, straight through his chest.

Pain. White hot pain that tore into every cell, every scrap of flesh.

He had been betrayed. He had been cut down. And the pain was too much to endure.

“I'm grateful for your help, Sthuna.” Aarik’s voice rang out, laced with cruel amusement. “It has to be like this. Willing blood is clean. Yours? Like this? Your pain, your resentment, your betrayal? Now that is profane.”

None of it made sense.

Sthuna would struggle, even long after the fact, to make sense of it all. Where he had gone wrong, how he had failed.

In the darkness, Aarik had not stopped his advancement. 

It all seemed to unfold like a thing moving underwater. Cast in slow motion. Aarik raised the spear. There was a flicker of lightning, a sickly pulse. His Keeper's every movement was like an afterimage. An imprint of dark charcoal against the wall. Hands raised with a spear. Weapon thrust forward.

His Keeper brought down the spear, laced with dragon’s blood and betrayal. The Xolotl snarled. The sound was like twin voices, out of sync and clashing, layered over one another. It resonated with the walls, making them tremble and shake.

Sthuna’s world drifted in and out of focus.

The Xolotl leapt.

Lightning split the world apart.

And Aarik brought his spear down upon parent and pup.

No.

No, no, no, no, no-

The dream, the memory, began to collapse under the weight of grief.

The images were indistinct. For a moment, he was Sthuna - his neck coiled around Eyna. And in another, he was Sthuna - his blood cooling in a room of stone.

Dust and rubble flying through the air.

Eyna’s hands holding his head.

Sparks against steel.

A soft voice in his ear, murmuring that he would be alright.

Lightning flashes.

And a terrible yelp. But the silence that followed was even more terrible.

No-

He saw the tiny pup folded on the ground. The dark stains that lined the stones beneath the fragile little shape. He saw Aarik, prepared to deal the final blow.

Sthuna moved before he realized it. His body was wracked by pain, but he felt none of it at that very moment. It was just the desperate need to do something to prevent this tragedy from continuing. He lashed out. It was neither calculated nor graceful. But he struck Aarik from the side, throwing him off course.

Sthuna collapsed.

The distraction he provided was enough. The Xolotl moved, graceful and fierce as an obsidian arrowhead. Sthuna didn’t see the blow, but he heard the sickening crack as his Keeper struck the far wall. The scream that echoed, equal parts rage and pain.

Sthuna strained, his vision blurred. In the dream, he weakly, desperately, lifted his head. He tried to rise, but his body was too weak. He slipped back to the ground with a dull thud.

The Xolotl dipped down. The skull-like maw grasped the corrupted spear, shattering it with powerful jaws.

Beside Sthuna, the little pup whimpered.

He did his best to roll to the side. He could see the tiny little body, marred by a terrible wound. He was the one who was responsible. He was the reason. This was his fault. His pointless quest to prove himself. His foolishness. His blood.

“... I’m… sorry.”

Dragons couldn't cry.

But they could grieve. And he did.

The memory was cracking. Spiderweb fractures, distorting the world.

“You.”

Pointing, fingers curled, Aarik cursed Sthuna. His voice snarled out. It was deep and guttural and utterly filled with rage. “Curse you.”

The words were frigid.

“Curse you, and all that you are, and all that you stand for. Remember my words well. The skin shall rot from your bones. Yet you shall live. Every breath shall be pain. Yet you shall breathe. Every waking moment you will suffer. You will beg for a death that will never come. This is your punishment-”

The Xolotl stood. It placed itself between Sthuna and his Keeper.

“ N o  m o r e .  Y o u  h a v e  b r o u g h t  e n o u g h  p a i n.   I   r e t u r n  t o   y o u  w h a t   i s   y o u r s.”

The corruption did not reach Sthuna. No, instead…

It started at Aarik’s fingertips.

They blackened the nail beds and then began to spread down each joint. A slow descent from fingertip to wrist, to forearm. Black marks like worms writhed inside his veins, denting his skin and traveling deeper and higher with every panicked burst of his heart. All until they entirely consumed him. They reached his heart. The blackened marks began to fester.

He was devoured until he was no longer recognizable.