Chapter Text
Neuvillette found himself in a world of fire and smoke when he awoke.
The world was burning around him. The earth: scorched and ashen, towering trees morphing into charred and smokey spires. The sky: a once beautiful blue, twisted to a deep and hellish red. The water: red with blood, thick and putrid. This was the start of the fall, the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning.
Ash fell from the sky staining the ground a diluted grey. The world was hot, the air was unbreathable. The world only spoke of danger. He needed to run, to flee far away from this horrible nightmare. So run he did; Neuvillette ran as fast as his poorly constructed human legs could take him.
He knew what this was, what he bore witness to. The endless inhuman screams, the punishment brought upon his kind from the self-proclaimed holy usurpers. The destruction of all that his people had worked millennia for. What purpose is there for him to be here?
He slowed down his pace, struggling for air and needing some time to process the information around him. His thoughts were spiralling, his fear increasing in waves with each rumination of what he was witnessing.
While lost within his darkening mind, a deep and powerful voice echoed “You must see youngling, this is your history and this will be your future. You will soon witness this war through my eyes, experience it as I had done all those millennia ago. You will feel as weapons tear through your scales, as they burn through your flesh. You must.”
Neuvillette turned his head, peering upwards towards the great dragon standing before him. With a slight pang to the back of his head, he was able to recall just who the dragon was along with small snippets of memory concerning a large open field and the warmth of false sunlight.
“What do you mean, when you say that I will see the war through your eyes?”
The dragon lowered its head to peer into Neuvillette’s eyes, staring deep into his being. Lavender on lavender, primordial water moving in sync between their shared irises.
“Close your eyes and open your mind to my own. Relax your guards and you shall see.”
With a slight hesitation, Neuvillette closed his eyes and did as the dragon asked. Gradually, he could feel a nudge on the forefront of his mind, soon it grew into a push as something entered his mental scape.
“Now open them youngling. Now you shall see all that has become of our wretched kindred, for it is what we deserve to pay as penance for our revolting existence. This is the will of the usurpers”. Vile venom oozed from its words, hinting at something far more sinister behind the facade of Neuvillette’s predecessor.
No, that doesn't sound right, something is wrong. Why would his previous self speak of such things with such disgust? Perhaps, this isn’t really who he thinks it is? Has he been deceived?
His head hurt.
With some effort, Neuvillette peeled his eyes open, taking in the disaster before him. He was in the shattered sky, his serpentine body flowing behind him in great arching loops. The scent of metallic blood hung heavy in the air. He could feel as his scales burned from the heat of the raging fires below. An eerie laughter reverberated all around him and deep into his skull; taunting him, mocking him, and challenging him. A humanoid being hovered just in front of his vision, covered in thick rivulets of draconic blood. Their face was obscured by a heavy hood and cloak, with all but a manic grin hidden from view. They held a hulkingly large spear which pointed upwards, towards the great false heavens.
Neuvillette blinked.
In a split second, the figure was gone.
instantly a deep, agonising pain radiated through his back sending viscous shooting sensations down to his tail. He could feel as his scales transformed, and fell as hot molten meteors to the ground below. He let out a deep and primal scream, twirling around, thrashing and gnashing at the parasite that dared to dig its tainted blade deep into his hide. The being only laughed and carved deeper marks into his scales, painting him like an artist to a portrait.
The being was toying with him. Treating him like a little plaything and nothing like the almighty, ancient creature that he was.
He would not allow it…. He had forgotten himself.
The final blow arrived more quickly than anticipated. Pierced and driven through, Neuvillette fell from the sky; a fish caught on a hook. His serpentine body crashed towards the burning and scorched earth like a brilliant, shining blue streak. His eyes were wide open, irises dilated and unseeing. His colour was fading. He was fading.
Neuvillette crashed into the ground with a resounding boom, disturbing the dirt below and uprooting any remaining trees in the process. Blood fell from his wounds, and mingled with the heavy scent of metal. He lay there, dying on the sands of his great empire, his world crashing and burning before him. He lay there as the being approached him, silently holding its intimidating spear above his large head. He continued to lay there as it fell deep within his skull, sharp and excruciating in both its accuracy and pain.
Who is he?
His head hurt.
He opened his eyes to darkness once more. A darkness of poison, dripping its disgusting ooze into his skin and deep into his hair. It crept up his legs and over his neck, wrapping itself around him like a snake; constricting him until he could not move no matter how hard he tried. He thrashed and tensed his arms, kicking his legs to try to release himself from its vile bindings. It was of no use. The poison held onto him, determined to keep him to itself.
It dug into the skin around his wrists and ankles, cutting and slicing him apart. This poison was making him bleed from the inside out. It was eating his mind, breaking into it like a walnut until there would be nothing left but the fractured pieces that remained from his tattered soul.
It laughed menacingly within his mind, taunting him and challenging him; knowing that he could not free himself from this hell. His own little personal hell. He felt as if he was burning from the inside, his organs melting into molten liquid within him. The poison crept ever so slowly, creeping its way towards his mouth and nose.
He tried to tap into his authority, forcing himself to bring forth any form of power to set him free. Light blue spurred at his fingertips, then fizzled until it too, was eaten away by the thick darkness of the poison. He had no authority in this realm, he was nothing but an unwilling victim to its control and its games.
Pain blossomed wherever the poison crept; aching and old, it dug itself deep into his being, tearing it apart. He could do nothing.
It would never permit him to rest until he was all but an impression within the minds of his people. A distant memory, fading and morphing until all that remained of him was some old figure, incorrectly portrayed and lost to the flow of time within humanity's history.
Closing his eyes gave him some semblance of false relief. He was unable to witness the poison eat into his being, scarring and disfiguring him. An unwilling spectator to his own demise. Slow and painful beyond general comprehension.
Neuvillette wondered what Furina would think if she saw him now, giving into the solace of death and its dark and sharpened threads. Perhaps she would be jealous, wishing for it to be herself in his stead; not for honour’s sake, he knew that much. He had seen the longing for it deep within her eyes far before the game of deception was unveiled. 500 years of that longing, of that need that goes against the natural programming of any living thing. To wish to never exist like that has greater ramifications than one could even begin to comprehend.
Better it be him than her.
Yes, despite her desperate longing, Furina should never deserve to disappear like this, stripped of her power and authority.
Better it be him than her.
A soft melody, sweet and calming wafted gently into his ears. It brought with it thoughts of home, the scent of the ocean and the glorious sight of a sunrise creeping over the horizon. Its beauty: compelling and magnificent; for how could such a simple tune capture the wonders of the world around it? It flowed through his hair, holding his mind in a warmth he had missed for so long.
The tune spoke of a grief, mournful and melancholic. It bit at the edges of his psyche, taking pieces of himself with it as it winded itself through his soul. It attached itself to the abhorrent poison and peeled it away, freeing him from its tempting fate.
The tune captured hope; a pleasant and wonderful thing. The yearning that flowed through the notes like a dancer's ribbon. It was gorgeous and entrancing; but most importantly, it was freeing.
For the first time since he had awoken within the pits of the poison’s control, Neuvillette felt at peace. No more pain forced its way into his aching mind; no more fear etched itself into his being. He was free.
He was free…
Death is a craving that many creatures experience at one time or another. It is an urge to give into the need for release; the urge to escape and be free. It is a powerful thing, but the mind is more powerful than the urge of death.
The mind is a remarkable thing; it governs, it learns, and best of all, it is you. Death is inescapable for all living things, it is the only constant in a life that is ever-changing. But, in truly extraordinary cases, when death is longed for, pined for like a lover and hungered for all too soon; the mind, for a brief moment, has more power than that of the overwhelming authority of death.
Its sheer beauty in construct outweighs one of the most governing forces in the known universe; so take that opportunity if it ever comes, use that power, use that brief control to take back what is rightfully yours. Do not let such an ancient authority as death govern you so early in life. Appreciate the beauty that is living, seeing and experiencing the world around you.
The smallest of things each hold a beauty within their own; something as simple as a tune, as a sunrise or as dust filtering through a sunbeam, even death has beauty within it as morbid as it may be. You are greater than death.