"Your pathetic frame will look even better on display!"
The Duke's comment made Egan feel disgusting.
Hadrian S. Vanitinova had run his blade along Egan's cheek. Egan's hot crimson blood slowly dripped down his face from the laceration. The blade was cold, its sharp edge piercing effortlessly. Along with the hand that rested on his horn, for it was cold too.
Everything about this man screamed danger. His figure towering over him, his deep green eyes shooting daggers into the young dragon.
Egan's face changed. The cocky arrogant look of someone who knew no harm could be done to him, changes after glancing at the mark the sword had made. For the wound wasn't steaming, it was shifting, and the healing of the skin wasn't closing it back up.
Hadrian's face, the cold, unemotional face of a man without human emotion, begins to distort. His face was getting closer.
The dark green eyes began to squint as his face stretched into a hideous smile. Grinning from ear to ear.
"I'm so excited!"
His twisted expression and unearthly presence sent a chill down his spine. What was this emotion he was feeling? He had never experienced such a thing before.
The emotion the young dragon was experiencing for the very first time,
Was fear.
With a slam, the Duke smashes the young dragon's face against the ground. Slowly getting up and turning towards the door.
"I'll see you soon… Oh, little tyrant of mine…" Hadrian remarked, slowly walking out of the steel cage, the guard trembling as he began to approach.
His presence was thick, as though it suffocated his senses, dulling his mind and sheathing his thoughts. It was disorienting. Scary. But it was a familiar one, one he had felt before—the same feeling, as those invisible chains that bound him just a day earlier. Chains he hated to death.
For his presence,
It was the same as that man's.
The one who got away.
***
Hadrian's footsteps slowly rang out from down the hallway, slowly and slowly dwindling as his distance from him increased. The massive creaking of an iron door once again shatters the silence of the dungeon, followed by a slam, one that shakes the walls surrounding Egan.
Soon after, the wound on his cheek began to sizzle once again.
His regeneration had been stunned, for but a brief moment.
'Just what in the world… IS he?'
Egan began to fear that maybe this execution really could spell the end of him.
The guard in charge of Egan's watch had begun to stare at him once again, eyes filled with the same intense hate he had looked at him with moments earlier. With a scoff, he spits on the ground, rubbing it in with the sole of his boot. Egan looked at him, confused at the gesture, but he could tell it was one of disdain. With the turn of his body, the guard swiftly shuts the door. The loud frame of metal shook the entire cell. Egan was once again alone in the cold, harsh dungeon, patiently awaiting his end.
***
[The cheers of a massive crowd shatter throughout the hallway, and the young dragon is dragged through.]
[The marching of guards silences the crowd as he inches closer to the door.]
Egan was dragged from his cell by multiple guards and forced to walk the massive hallways that lined the capital's underground. Its layout was massive, for after he was laid unconscious, he was put in the highest security prison they had at the time, shackled with chains that drained essence. The castle was huge, lining the entirety of central Vanitinova, and Egan had to walk the whole way, shackled from head to toe, and constantly prodded at by guards.
Looking up and out the windows of the underground hallways, he could see faint glimpses of people standing above him, all chanting and screaming. What exactly, he did not know.
But he did know they were for him.
He was dreading going out there, not for the sake of saving his own life, but dreading the look on Sarah's face as his head rolled along the stage. For he knew he was a burden to her, he knew that. But deep down, selfishly, he still wanted to be by everyone's side. He began to walk slower, the chains choking up on his wrists. His body was unable to produce natural essence due to the chains, so 'Increase' was out of the question. But his natural strength still caused the guards to jolt at the sudden stop. With a smash of a flat mace, the young dragon was forced to continue his march. He didn't want to. He didn't want to go through with it. It was unfair.
His heart began to race,
'I don't want to die…'
'Not yet…'
For the first time since experiencing this catastrophe, Egan.
Wanted to live.
Each one of his steps weighed on him. Each muscle twitch in his body resonated with him. Each pull of his body dragged him down further. He begins to panic; he doesn't want to die. He wanted to see everyone again. Breaking out would only solidify the people's view of him being a monster. What good would that do? He would only further burden those he cared about even more.
These thoughts kept ringing in his brain. Never-ending.
They get closer to the barred door. One of the guards slowly opened it, the bright light of noon shining in with the radiance of a goddess. The light blinded the young dragon, his hands raised slightly in an attempt to shield his face from the flash.
[The roaring of a crowd begins gaining in intensity]
Looking out, before Egan was an immense mass of people. All chanting comes from beyond the end of the stage. What lay before him was a slab, followed by a bucket. This large area was lined with beautifully polished wood and decorated with golden statues of horses on either end. The stage was massive. Yet the podium that lay flat on the stage was small. The size of one human head.
Egan's eyes felt fear, his face distorting underneath the shackles.
As though on instinct, a blast of intense heat radiates around him, shooting away two nearby guards. The small wave of essence slightly marked the ground with char. The town fell silent, looking out towards the young dragon.
He gazed out at the crowd.
He now fully understood what Hadrian had told him.
The faces of the townspeople were all lined with ones of both disgust and fear. The same faces as the one the guard made as he screamed about how Egan killed his daughter. All of them were staring at him, as though looking at a hideous beast, strewn up for display. As though he were a martyr, something to be feared, something to be burned,
Something… better off dead.
Looking out over the crowd once again, he spots someone running through the mass, running by everyone, not in her way as she shoves those who are. Strangely, he wanted to call out to Sarah, as though she could reason with the crowd. Behind her was Liz, who was frantically trying to catch up.
'They can help!'
Foolish.
With a hard jolt, Egan was forced to the ground, stomped out by a large boot. Egan couldn't see who it was, but he could feel those dark green eyes of his burning a hole in the back of his head. A drip coming from Egan's face begins to stain the ground beneath him a slight red. For the wound on his cheek from earlier.
Had just opened up yet again, as though it was never healed in the first place.
Hadrian dug his boot deeper.
With a raise of his hand, the crowd once again goes silent.
"Today, we sever the life of a creature devoid of human emotion! Devoid of any rationale! Devoid of empathy! You all had to feel this disgusting abomination's wrath firsthand! How many of you lost your sons? Daughters? Loved ones? All because of this monster's rampage!
'It wasn't me…'
The crowd roars louder.
"Today, we rid ourselves of this disease plaguing my city, along with your happiness! Today, we rejoice as his head rolls from the stage!"
'I didn't do it…'
The stomping of feet and chanting of death roars louder.
"Who wishes for this thing to reap what it's sown?!"
'It wasn't me!'
The crowd roars louder than ever, shaking the very stage he is lying on.
"With my blade, Velora, I will vanquish the evil that scorns you! This filth shall pay for the lives he has taken! And for you, my dear citizens…
Egan kept chanting the same line in his head over and over again.
Hadrian grabs the young dragon by the horns, his face plastered with a wicked smile. Before he continues his speech, he whispers something in Egan's ear.
"Don't worry… Your little lady friends will be well taken care of in your absence."
Before Egan could react, he was slammed into the stone slab before him, small cracks shattering across its surface. Egan was furious, beyond angry. What should he do? Escape? Face defeat? No, a dragon does not accept a defeat that wasn't rightfully won. But what decision does he have?
For he can either die a monster. Or truly become one.
"It wasn't me…"
A single tear runs down his face.
"And for you, my dear citizens," Hadrian circles the pedestal, aiming his rapier high above his head,
"A gift!!"
[One large step shatters the stage]
The sword barrels down towards the young dragon's neck. The back of his head tightened up. He knows that once his head is severed from his body, it will not re-attach, his cheek being proof of it.
He braces for the void.
The darkness he had never known.
For death had never been a worry for him until now.
And now… More than ever… He wanted just one more chance.
'It wasn't me…'
***
[Another large step shatters the stage yet again]
"That is enough!" Bellowed a deep and controlling voice from overhead.
Within a flash, sparks of opposing power reign down from above Egan. Each wave of essence hits him like a crashing tide. This presence… it was familiar.
The crowd goes silent, their jaws crashing to the floor as they gaze upon Egan's mysterious savior.
Egan looks up, wanting to get a glimpse of the miracle before him.
What stands there, towering over him like a giant? Tall and muscular, scars marking his face, adorned in fancy clothing. His hazel-grey eyes glow as he stands there, grabbing the strike the Duke had performed.
A chilling silence still permeates the crowd.
Ser looks down, locking eyes with the young dragon, a face filled with both anger and relief.
With a stumble, the Duke retracts his strike, his body staggering from the blow.
With a slight smirk, Ser Dornath Valegrim turns around, facing the crowd.
His arm is raised as he unleashes a presence of intimidation towards the masses.
He begins to speak, his voice bellowing from the depths of his soul.
"This man before you was not the cause of your suffering!"
"By my word, as Ser Dornath Valegrim!"
"I command this matter ended — here and now!"