Born of Ash

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley.”

Atop a large boulder, in a field of wildflowers and fragrant clover, sat Finnick Torreign, a young raconteur who could often be found sowing seeds of wonder and amusement in the minds of Vistran youth.

“What do you mean? Where were they, then, Finny?” piped a small girl sitting cross-legged in front of the boulder; one of six children in Finnick's audience.

“Don’t listen to him, Sig, he’s tellin’ tall tales again,” said Roahm, the oldest and most skeptical of the children.

A mischievous hush came to Finnick’s voice as he said, “Oh, aye Sigra, it’s a tall tale I’ll tell you, but only if you’re brave enough to listen. Unlike our friend Roahm, here,” he said, and waited for him to take the bait.

“I am not scared, Finnick Torreign, and you know it. You’re just always having us on is all, and I’ll not listen to it any longer,” he said with a huff.

“You are scared, Roahm. You always cover your ears when Finny gets to the bloody bits,” Sigra giggled with a poke to his ribs.

“I am not scared! I’m not.”

“Are too,” said Sig.

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

Attention diverting to the two squabbling children, Finnick had to think fast. ”Alright then, Roahm. If you’re not scared, prove it.”

Roahm regarded Finnick with wariness, but in the end, his pride overcame his fear. “Fine. Go on, then. Enlighten us: how did dragons come to be in Vistra?”

“First things first; have you heard of the Vichands, Roahm?”

“The Vichands? You mean the royal family of Vistra and Ky’Vantal? The King and Queen? Of course I've heard of them. They’ve ruled here forever," he said, rolling his eyes. "What does that have to do with dragons?"

"Yes, the royal family has ruled Vistra for quite some time, but there was a time that history does not speak of; a time before the Vichands. This, my young friends, is where our story begins." And with the full attention of six curious pairs of eyes, he leaned close to begin his tale.

"Hundreds of years ago, in a war-torn Vistra, there was a young merchant named Tiberius Vich. Food was scarce, plague was rampant, and hope was hard to find, but Tiberius had a wife and young children to think of. So, when all seemed lost, he turned to the skies and asked for a miracle.

"'Anything,' he begged. 'I'll give anything you ask of me if you'll grant me the power to end this foolish war and save my family.' Night after night he prayed yet his pleas went unanswered.

“As the winter approached, he became desperate and feverish. He grew wild with rage and grief as he watched his family starve and home ravaged by selfish lords. Falling to his knees in this very field, he offered one last plea. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Please, you must help me. I will not watch my family starve or freeze.’ He wept, but alas, his pleas were once again met with silence.

“Resigned to his fate, he found his wife and two small children asleep in the refuge of a ransacked barn. Finding the sword he had hidden away, he clasped it tight in his trembling hands and walked to his wife. Sword raised overhead, he prepared to plun-.” Finnick stopped, staring at the wide-eyed Roahm whose hands hovered below his ears.

“Finny, why’d you stop? We have to know what he does,” Sigra whined, with the others joining her in a chorus of complaints.

“I’ll not be continuing, Sigra. It seems not everyone in attendance is as brave as they claimed, and this tale is not for the faint of heart. I’ll not have anyone’s mother getting cross with me over a child’s nightmare when I was promised my story would be met with courage,” he said, feinting disappointment.

Sigra turned to Roahm with a scowl as his hands shot back down to his lap. “I’m not scared, I promise! I was only stretching!”

“Liar! You were scared, Roahm, and now Finny won’t finish the story! Leave if you can’t listen without spoiling it for the rest of us,” she chastised.

“I’m not scared, honest! Come on, Finnick. Go on with the story. I won’t cover my ears. See?” Roahm tucked his hands under his bottom and looked at Finnick.

Pretending to scrutinize Roahm, Finnick turned to face the children once more. “I’ll go on I suppose, but if I so much as see a fingernail come out from under your legs, Roahm Frunty, I swear I’ll seal my lips shut with sap and never speak another word.”

“You won’t even remember I have hands, I promise.”

Smiling, Finnick resumed his storyteller’s pose. “Yes, okay. Where was I now? Right. The barn. So, with prayers unanswered, Tiberius prepared to do the unthinkable. He raised the sword above his wife’s heart, trembling with sorrow and said, ‘I’m sorry, my love. When we meet in another life, I will not fail to protect you as I have in this one.’

“And with that promise the sword descended toward its target.” Mimicking the motions of Tiberius, Finnick savored the tiny gasps from his captive audience. Sure enough, Roahm’s hands were still tucked away, though his eyes were shut tight.

“Yes, Tiberius was ready to take the lives of his very own blood, but before the sword struck, a voice came from night. ‘This can’t be the same man who called to me with such fervor that his pleas were heard through all the worlds and back again. You would take the life of the woman you so desperately wanted to save? Pity.’

“Tiberius turned to the barn’s entrance, sword clattering to the ground in surprise. Straining his eyes, he searched for the intruder. ‘Who’s there? Show yourself.’

‘I’ll not take demands from a coward who kills women and children in the night,’ the voice said, sounding amused.

“Standing tall with his head held high, Tiberius responded, ‘I’ll not see my wife and children suffer for my failures. It may be shameful, but that shame is for me to carry.’ A tense silence followed, and for a moment Tiberius thought the being had left, but at the barn’s entrance a cloud of mist began to form. Larger and larger it grew, twinkling in the moonlight like fallen bits of stars, until a humanoid figure stood before him.

“‘I must admit, you are a curious one, Arsenio.” Taking advantage of Tiberius’s shock, the being went on. ‘Yes, I know your true name and from whence you came. I know the failures you speak of run much deeper than those of a poor merchant unable to protect his family from famine and war. You have strayed far from your path, Arsenio. Or perhaps I’m wrong and you chose a throne of hay and corpses to rule from? I myself would have chosen something more comfortable but I suppose I’ve seen worse,’ it said, chuckling to himself.

At the mention of his family, Tiberius positioned himself between them and the mist, eliciting another laugh. ‘Now you fear for their lives? Yes, very curious.’

“‘My family will not die by anyone’s hand other than my own. They deserve more than that. I’ll ask you again: who are you?’ he said, clenching his fists.

“‘Ah, there he is. Arsenio Tiberius Vichand is not lost to this pathetic man before me, then. Good. I’ve been watching you for some time. Waiting. You said you would do anything to save them, yes?’ Tiberius nodded but did not speak. ‘Good. Then I will grant your request.’

“Regarding the entity with caution, he said, ‘Name your terms.’

“A gentle whisper floated toward Tiberius, enveloping him. ‘Take back your name,’ it cooed. ‘Take back your name, Arsenio Tiberius Vichand, and with it, the fire that lies dormant in your veins.’”

Letting the tension build, Finnick met the wide-eyed stares of the children, shocked to find a seventh pair of striking green eyes sitting apart from the group. A girl not much younger than Finnick had snuck her way into his audience. Mesmerized, he almost forgot where he was when Roahm said, “Well? Did he do it, Finnick?” Shaking off his trance, he continued. “Right. Still skeptical of this nameless entity, Tiberius hesitated. ‘What will you gain from this? My name carries power, it’s true, but surely not enough to fulfill any of your desires.’

“‘I was being truthful when I said you have been watched for some time. Your pleas were heard by many, Arsenio, and it is by the will of others I am here. The debt is not for you to pay. You need only to fulfill the destiny you abandoned. I am simply here as a servant of the night to remind you.’ Suddenly Tiberius found himself imbued with memories of the past: the thrill of combat and victory, fame and praise, the fear and awe his name carried on and off the battlefield. Things he forgot on his journey. Things he forgot when he met his love. Things his hands now yearned for again.

“‘Yes,’ the being hissed. ‘He is still there. Take back your name, Arsenio, and I will give you the power to end this war and become a King. Stop running from who you were. Stop running from what you can yet become.’

Galvanized by the reminder of his past conquests, Tiberius answered, ‘Yes. I’ll do it. I am Arsenio Tiberius Vichand and I will run from my name no longer.’

“‘So it is done.’ With an eruption of mist and starlight, the being shot through the roof of the barn toward the sky, leaving Tiberius in a pool of moonlight. Feeling feverish, he fell to his knees as his blood began to boil. Seeking the relief of a nearby creek, he clawed his way out of the barn, the pain and anguish muddling his mind.

“Awakened by his painful cries, his wife followed the trail of smoldering clothes just in time to see Tiberius burst into a ferocious whirlwind of flames. From the fire emerged a fearsome dragon who swept over Vistra to slay the selfish lords and free the people of their plight.

“Tiberius never learned the name of the mysterious mist, but having vanquished his enemies, he found himself a man once more. With his wife at his side, he took the throne of Vistra under his true name: Arsenio Tiberius Vichand, Prince of Ky’Vantal. It was from the ashes of his enemies that the dragons emerged and have roamed the lands ever since.”

The children clapped and hooted as Finnick took a bow. “Thank you, thank you as always my young patrons. Your devotion is ever appreciat-.”

“That’s not exactly what happened.”

Standing upright, Finnick searched for the interruption and found the girl with green eyes standing off to the side. “I beg your pardon?”

“That’s not what happened, though you are mostly correct,” she said again. Finnick took the time to fully take her in, as did the children, and found eyes shining like pale emeralds looking back at him. Her hair, wild and unkempt waves of silver and gray lay in great contrast against the dark black shift pooling at her feet, and he could have swore she had a smattering of opalescent freckles set against her smooth, brown skin. She was, Finnick thought, one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. “Okay,” he started. “What exactly did I get wrong, fair maiden?”

“He did kill his wife and children,” she proclaimed. Gasping, the children huddled close to Finnick. Pressing on, she said, “After the transformation. The fire consumed the barn and his family within. The woman he took as his queen was not his true love, and it was from his family’s ashes that the dragons emerged. Haunted by them in the sky, King Arsenio believed the being he bargained with had cursed him to be forever reminded of his betrayal. He eventually grew mad with guilt and grief and took his own life. Since Arsenio had taken back his true name, his father, King Nimion Vichand of Ky’Vantal had the new queen marry Arsenio’s brother to keep the claim of Vistra for the Vichand family.”

With seven mouths agape, the girl stood calmly, as if she had just recited the recipe for her favorite jam instead of painting a most gruesome picture for Finick’s innocent partisan’s. “Yes, well, there are many versions of the story, not all of which are appropriate for children. Roahm, I’ll ask you to see the younger ones home today with your new-found bravery. And perhaps you don’t tell your mothers about this one,” he shouted after them. “As if they’ll listen to me. I’m going to be in a good bit of trouble tomorrow thanks to your history lesson,” he said, turning to the girl. However, instead of emerald eyes, all Finnick saw was bits of smoldering clover and wildflower where she stood. Turning in every direction, there was no trace of the girl.

“Just as well,” he sighed, stomping out the embers before beginning his trek home. “No one would’ve believed me anyway.”

That night, he dreamt of dragons, starlight, and pale, emerald eyes.