Vilethorn

One night ago...

The Elder Wyrmwood sighed heavily as his ancient body walked through the darkened, moonlit forest, his joints popped and snapped with nearly every step. A bitter cold lingered in his chest, like a HallowFrost had breathed down his throat, a part of him hated what had come over him, this new... feeling was gnawing away at his brain. Vilethorn... that was his name... wasn't it? 'Why can't I remember my own name? I'm three hundred years old... and yet now, my memory begins to fail me...'

He vaguely remembered overhearing a dark, hissing voice deep in the forest just the other night, the taste of rotten flesh in the back of his throat... it was an ugly taste, but why did it taste familiar? 'It's like I've tasted it before... but I don't eat rotten flesh...'

"...It tastes familiar, hmm?" Hissed a cold, dark, rumbling voice, causing the Elder Wyrmwood to freeze to the spot, his deep green scales losing their dull shine as darkness closed in around him, the shadows shuffled closer. "Why do you think that?"

"Why do I think it tastes familiar? Because, lately, many have reported tasting that, and yet we've found nothing... until now, it seems." Vilethorn rumbled, whirling around to face the heinous beast, the Elder was met by cold, dead white eyes and a warping black body, those dead orbs gazed into his ancient jade eyes, which flicked towards the dragon's various features.

The being had pillar-like legs and scythe-shaped talons, and a prominent, searing white scar was visible just between the beast's eyes. 'I sense that a battle had taken place between it and someone else... but what caused that kind of scar?'

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He spat, "it still hurts, that horrid dragon's power almost destroyed me entirely!"

"Yes, actually- I would like to know. Tell me, beast: what transpired for you to get that scar?" Vilethorn asked with bitterness in his voice, the black dragon laughed in an otherworldly tone.

"Why aren't you afraid of me, Wyrmwood?" He hissed with a crazed chuckle, avoiding the dragon's question. "Surely I would've scared you off by now, everyone else has turned tail upon hearing my voice, and yet here you stand, speaking with me almost normally... why?"

"I'm three hundred years old, I'm pretty sure I've seen just about everything in this world, and you are no exception, dear SchattenSeele," he gave the being the tiniest of smiles, "and I've not much to lose at this age anyways, so I'm not too scared of someone such as yourself..."

Unbelievably, the SchattenSeele's eyes lit up with a spark of something akin to awe, as if he couldn't believe the Elder's audacity to say that, his mouth very slightly agape.

"Hmmm, you speak truthfully, I sense it... how odd of me to thank you for being honest... huh, I still have a bit of humanity in my wretched body after all..." he muttered to himself, some bits of his sentence seemed forced, as if he wasn't entirely sure of his word choice. "Perhaps you and I aren't as different as I thought..."

Vilethorn raised an old brow, "whatever do you mean, SchattenSeele?"

"I mean: it seems I've found someone who could help me accomplish a... particularly important task." He smiled cruelly. "Maybe you could help me, and in return... I could help you."

'Whatever he wants, it's not good,' he thought, noting the greedy glimmer in his white eyes, 'but what other choices do I have?'

"There are no other choices, Vilethorn..." he smirked, getting uncomfortably close to the Elder. "Either you except my offer..." he whispered, gently tracing a wicked talon over the pulsing jugular vein in his neck before purring: "or you die... it's up to you, really..."

"I think I'd rather die than help you..." he sniffed, the SchattenSeele chuckled darkly, sinking the tip of his scythe-shaped talon into the old dragon's neck, causing him to wince as dark red blood oozed forth. "Besides, I'm sticking to what I told you, SchattenSeele, so eat my tail for all I care." He growled in an unwavering voice.

"Oh, will you? I ask again: will you help me in exchange for something you desire, or can I just slit your throat and call it quits for tonight? I prefer the latter..."

Vilethorn knew there was no way out, either he helped the demon accomplish his mission or he died on the spot without second thought, 'I know what I said, but my curiosity makes me yearn to know just what he wants done... and why I'm needed...'

"What will I get out of this?"

"My help with anything you desire, Elder Wyrmwood, is there anything... else that you wish to gain from this?" He hissed quietly, his voice slithered into the Elder's ears. Surprisingly, the dragon shook his head.

"I need help with just one thing..."

"Help with what?"

The Wyrmwood knew what he was doing, and yet he didn't want to, he could feel that odd cold feeling in his chest grow stronger, a spark of utter chaos burst into his jade eyes...
Something evil was coming over him: "I need your help finding the Book of Bloodlines." He smiled, a piece of himself internally hissed as he said it, seeing the enemy's eyes light up like he'd been waiting eons for those words.

"Oh, how convenient for you to say that, Vilethorn... I myself am seeking that same exact Book..." he purred, his voice slowly turning cold as ice. "Say, you're not just trying to twist me in your honor, are you?"

"Nope," the Elder said, popping the 'p' as he spoke. "I've been needing to find that book for forever..."

"If you allow me to... help you, we can both benefit from this..." he hissed, "I've got targets to eliminate... two of them, to be exact. If we can get this book, surely I can go through with killing them..."

'He's an assassin, I presume? Or...' it began to dawn on him, 'he's using his powers to manipulate me, isn't he?'

A cold laugh sent chills down the Wyrmwood's spine, "you've finally noticed haven't you, you old waste of scales? I'm surprised you haven't already lashed out or figured it out sooner..."

The Elder's throat ran dry, there was not a thing he could say now, 'I'm already doomed!'

"That's right! Hmmm... your dusty brains still hold intelligence, it seems... you'll make a perfect puppet for me..." the SchattenSeele began to cackle, suddenly slamming the Elder dragon up against a pine tree, who fruitlessly struggled against the demonic entity's grip. Vilethorn saw the dragon raise his bladed tail high over his head, the tip of his bladed tail shimmered as it shot towards his face.

Time slowed, everything but that wicked tail was in his line of sight...

CRACK! The sickening sound of Vilethorn's skull splitting down the middle echoed through the trees as a horrible roar of agony sounded, blood like rubies poured forth and splattered into the stirred soil. A horrible, paralyzing coldness spread like wildfire through the Elder's split skull, like chilled daggers repeatedly stabbing into his brain.

Pain unbelievable to any other dragon ripped through the Elder's body as darkness swallowed his vision, the agony faded almost as fast as he had fallen into the sweet embrace of death...

. . .

'Hey, wake up- you fool!'

Vilethorn jolted awake to find a horribly blinding light stabbing into his jade eyes, he growled and flinched at the pain as he looked away, eyes squeezed shut.

He slowly opened his eyes again to find himself in a warmly-lit room, the pine-planked walls soaring over his head told him he was in the Infirmary. He lay on a bed of pine needles and moss, the sounds of light snoring told him others were here, too. Vilethorn gingerly brushed a claw over his split skull, feeling the warm goopiness of Khrusos sap and damp moss bandages wrapped around his head.

"How-- in the name of everything holy-- am I ALIVE?" He asked out loud, utterly baffled by the fact that his heart still beat.

A sudden pressure was felt in the back of his skull, 'your lackeys saved you, Wyrmwood... you should be glad you're alive, because now I can continue my mission-'

Vilethorn whimpered as a stabbing pain shot through his brain, 'and you cannot stop me, my little puppet... I've got you under my control now, and there's no escaping me now, unless...'

'Unless what, you wretch?'

'The only way to escape me is: either you die, or one of my... targets exorcizes me...'

That got Vilethorn thinking: 'maybe I could-'

'If you so much as ask my targets for an exorcism, I'm killing you personally. Understand?' Hissed the crazed being in his head, the Elder nodded, knowing the crazy dragon couldn't see him do it. 'Fine... but why Possess me?'

'Because, my mission is vital, if I'm seen... well, that's a story for another time, Elder Vilethorn. Perhaps you should show me around the place... or I'll seize you in my control and do as I please with your brittle body.' He growled in a demanding tone, the Elder dragon, with a grunt, slowly rolled to his feet and took a wobbly step forward. He strode to the small entryway of the Infirmary and peeked his head round the corners, glancing about and hoping no one was around. Relieved to find not a soul, he quickly strode out into the wide wooden halls of the Palace.

"Where to first...?" He whispered, feeling the pressure in the back of his skull lightened up very slightly as the being hissed: "your Throne room, preferably..."

"Are you insane?"

"Yes- now get to it, or your own blood is on your talons, fool..."

The cold severity of his voice made Vile shudder, the old dragon made his way down the pine hallway, the open windows allowing the dawn's gorgeous light to spill through the Palace, setting the wood ablaze in a golden glow. He could smell the scent of the outside come drifting in on a light breeze that caressed his ancient wings, he gazed up at the ceiling that soared high above him, the intertwined planks and branches were almost a work of art that protected Wyrmwood heads from the rain. 'I was one of the workers who built this section of the Palace,' He remembered with a smile.

'You're quite the architect, then... I'm impressed,' breathed the SchattenSeele unexpectedly, 'it's like the trees were woven through the planks...'

'You're extremely odd, you know that?' The Elder huffed mentally, 'one moment you threaten me, the other time you're talking with me like we're friends or something...'

'I'm not always vile... but, I guess that's why I got my name... what about you, Vilethorn?' Growled the dragon, the old Wyrmwood raised a brow at the question, about to answer when he was stopped by another dragon coming up behind him.

"Elder Vilethorn! Sir- what happened?" Breathed a familiar dragon, the adolescent dragon's voice made the SchattenSeele in Vile's head snarl hideously.

"Thorne, my boy, it's not that important right now-"

"But father- the bandages round your head say differently. What can I do to help?" Thorne asked, his washed-out brown eyes holding concern for his father's injury. Vile sighed, he couldn't just brush him off, "fine... please- fetch me a tea, nothing specific, of course, and then meet me in the Throne room when you're finished. Got it?" He explained, the dragon nodded rapidly and smiled faintly. "Got it!" He said, running off.

'That's your son?' Rumbled the demon, Vilethorn sighed. 'No, he's my adopted son, SchattenSeele... I just haven't gotten around to telling the poor soul.' He said whilst trying to hide the sorrow in his mental voice. 'It's a long story...'

The Elder stepped into the massive Throne room, the skylights allowing the early dawn to pour through and shine down upon the gorgeous Queen Sselvu upon her throne of twisted roots and leaves. The Queen had lustrous emerald scales with splatters of gold and grey-blue across her face and wings, her dainty snout curved upwards and her neck spikes splayed out as she noticed the Elder in the room, her animated golden eyes flicked over to him and she faintly smiled. "I see you're feeling better, Vilethorn. Yes?"

"Yes, my Queen." He nodded, not even daring to speak of the not-so-lovely new voice in his head. He knew it'd go up in flames even as he thought of the talk:

"Not really, my Queen- you see, the very dragon who I saw last night also just happened to be my almost-murderer, and now it's inside my head, threatening to kill me if I don't do what it says!'

'Hey now, I'm no murderer!' He exclaimed abruptly, 'I'm only a murderer if someone catches me doing the murder! I've never been caught in the act!'

'Would you like for me to ask why you sound so defensive?' Vilethorn chuckled, earning a ferociously cold jolt of pain in the back of his head, causing him to clasp a talon to the site and hiss.

"Vile, perhaps you should relax and head back to the Infirmary, if you are needed I shall retrieve you personally." Queen Sselvu explained lightly, "I am only waiting for my other subjects to wake, the guards posted outside the Palace are almost ready to switch."

Vile went to turn around, but a quick clearing of the Queen's throat made him freeze, "Vile- what happened to your neck?"

"What do you mean, my Queen?"

"You have what appears to be a... ring of black scales around your neck." She said nervously, "did your attacker choke you, or..."

Vile shook his head rapidly, feeling the tension within his skull grow more intense, "n-no, when I was out last night, I decided to muck up my scales with Blackmud from The Pits."

"Oh, quite an interesting thing to do so late at night." Sselvu lied convincingly, "it compliments your scales. Good job."

Vile nodded slightly, currently somewhat preoccupied as he spoke quietly, 'why am I here, SchattenSeele?'

'We have yet to meet my... targets, Vilethorn. And, while we stand here, I think maybe you should tell me about Sselvu and Weeper.'

'What does this all have to do with the Book of Bloodlines?'

'It'll all make sense eventually, Elder Wyrmwood. For now, we wait and see what we can gather until they get here.'

About almost three hours had gone by, King Weeper was still asleep, and Thorne was constantly battering the Elder with questions and concerns even when told off, the young dragon wasn't about to go so easily.

"Fine, if you wish to continue helping me, go and find more dragons to help!" He had exclaimed with annoyance, his eyes narrowing in anger as the young Thorne flicked his ears back, his gold-speckled snout bearing a saddened frown as he whisked off down the hall, his four wings halfway unfurled.

'So... this is boring us both to death-- how about we head to the library?'

"And why would I go there?" Vilethorn unknowingly whispered, "what could I possibly find or do there?"

'Oh, I don't know- study up on a spell or figure out what weaknesses the HallowFrost Dragons have?' Hissed the SchattenSeele, confusing the Elder.

The HallowFrosts went extinct almost fourteen years ago... right? 'The King and Queen disappeared almost a year apart from each other, but what of the others? Did they all just die in one night... or was it over time, slowly dwindling them down until none remained?' He wondered to himself, remembering when the other tribes had been reporting that less and less HallowFrosts were being seen about; the chilly tribe was gradually fading away from the Mortal Plane of Elementia, contact between HallowFrost couriers and the other tribes became terribly rare.

Unfortunately soon, contact just abruptly stopped dead, their bones scattered throughout Elementia, but most were never found, leaving most to speculate that they had been snatched up and taken to the Vile Mountain Range for purposes unknown...

And King Bitterkill had been found dead, brutally eviscerated and lying in a pool of his own blood just outside the HallowFrost Palace's walls, Vilethorn had gone with his small wing of dragons to investigate, only to find a mortified young HallowFrost prince and his wailing mother, both too stricken with horror and grief to speak or even acknowledge the Wyrmwoods.

'I wish I could've said something in condolence... but I had no words... those poor dragons are long gone now, and nothing will bring them back...'

'Hmmm... how strange,' hummed the dragon in his head, 'why do I feel your pain?'

'Because something that catastrophic and traumatizing is never forgotten, the pain of such memories is a dagger through the heart that cannot be destroyed.' He sighed mentally, hearing the SchattenSeele huff.

'Do you firmly believe that the HallowFrosts are gone?'

'Of course I do, there's no way to bring back the dead- unless the Holy Ruler brings them back...' he thought quietly, shifting on his old talons and, upon hearing a commotion outside, he perked up and listened.

"Hey, PyreWing- back off! You and your crazy mafia can stay in the desert AWAY FROM OUR FOREST HOME!" Hissed one of the guards posted outside, hearing a deep growl from who Vile supposed was the PyreWing.

"DappleWings, please- calm down!" Said Thorne's voice.

"Those damned PyreWings are something else, Thorne- and who are you two? Why are you disguised as the HallowFrosts?" Growled DappleWings, "are you trying to get yourselves in trouble by mimicking them? What tribe are you two from?"

'Dragons disguised as HallowFrosts?' Vilethorn thought curiously, seeing that Queen Sselvu was thinking the same thing as she rose from her throne, striding elegantly off towards the Palace's entrance.

"Hey now- do my scales look fake? Is my "magical disguise" somehow lopsided? Who here thinks I'm faking this body?" Snapped a totally new voice with hints of sarcasm, it was a female's voice, but it was accented and her voice carried an almost silent growl.

"I think so," joked a deeper voice, a male, his voice had a more audible growl and the same accent, Vilethorn and Sselvu had soon made their way out of the Palace and into the light, finding a small group of dragons glaring at the guards, who only glared back and told them off.

"Halt, all five of you outsiders!" Barked Sselvu, her golden eyes flicked between the five different dragons, Thorne was skipped over as he was a fellow Wyrmwood.

The closest dragon was a brute of a PyreWing, with mud-brown scales and tawny-gold undertones; fierce orange eyes; obsidian-black underbelly plates and stalagmite-shaped horns, he looked pretty ferocious (but his bulbous snout seemed to be the only soft part of him.)

The other was an Aquaz with jade scales, her scales were patterned with darker jade stripes and her silver eyes were like stars, her webbed tail flicked with annoyance as she bowed before Sselvu.

The remaining three he couldn't help but gasp at: HallowFrost Dragons. 'They certainly don't appear to be disguised, they are HallowFrost Dragons!' He thought, gazing at the three dragons.

But there was something terribly odd about the bigger HallowFrost Dragon, his scales and curved horns rang a bell...

'It can't be... can it?'

"Yes it can, my puppet..." hissed the demon's voice, which had become so viciously cold and angry that it made the dragon flinch, "he is the one... he gave me that scar, those two dragons are my targets!"

'You're serious?'

Anger of ultimate proportions surged through the Elder dragon, he felt his talons curl into the dirt by themselves, his eyes narrowed and he grit his teeth as he seethed, the SchattenSeele was taking him under his control.

"Those... two... are... MINE!" He hissed through Vile's mouth almost silently, "and they won't escape me again!"