History has a way of changing as time passes. Not in the expected method of merely getting longer, but in the way it is taught.
Imagine if you will, a history book written about a war between two countries. The reason they went to war was over a tiny patch of disputed land, barely a hundred square miles. This land however, had a very valuable gem mine on it. There were of course no good or bad sides to this war, both sides fought for greed before anything else. However, one side did win. Not only did they win, they invaded and completely conquered the other nation.
This lead to the nations essentially becoming one, and allowed for a version of history that may not be altogether accurate. If you were to read the history book sponsored by the winning side, you would read about the truly dreadful conditions of the common folk inside of the losing kingdom, of how they were little better than slaves to a corrupt noble class. They will fail to mention that those 'common folk' were far better off than their own, and elected their leaders, that is to say, they had no hereditary nobles.
Suddenly the war looks like a noble and just war of liberation, saving the poor, downtrodden peasants and bringing them into the enlightened fold of the victors, and not the greedy landgrab that it was in truth. Like this, history changes over time. When people say history is written by the victor they are not speaking in hyperbole, it is the absolute truth.
So tell me why I should believe the words written by your so called gods. Those beings demand adoration and worship for merely existing. They are no gods of mine, and merely winning a war does not mean they speak only the truth. You will see me hanged now, but think on my words. Think, and wonder why supposedly all powerful beings felt the need to lie.
Final words of Aurelius Drake, before his hanging for Heresy.
"Dad, why are we different?" The inquisitive voice of his son echoed in Rigel's ears. It never got easier attempting to explain racism.
"Because we have no patron god kiddo." He sighed softly. "We are the firstborn race, we were here before the gods ever existed. They hate us because we did not need help to achieve great things. They look at us and see a race without limitation or divine control, and it terrifies them." A bitter smile crossed his face as he looked at his youngest child. "Try not to talk about it anymore until we get home ok?"
"Ok dad." Poor little Raiden, he wouldn't be able to truly understand those concepts for quite a while. It was hard enough watching him try to play with other children only to be shooed away by frightened mothers, to see him realize it was something out of his control was even worse.
"Ho, Rigel!" The call came from a passing patrol of Orcs, they were a decent enough lot, didn't really care about your race as long as you could fight well, and had a good sense of poetry.
"Hey Francis, how the road ahead?" Rigel indicated his pair of mules hitched to the front of the wagon.
"Had rumors of another Dragon sighting," Francis smirked. "It's probably nothing again, but you'll want to be careful heading into the Whitecaps."
"Thanks for the warning, I'll watch my back." In truth, Rigel was relieved. If they ever learned the truth about those sightings he and everyone he loved would die. It was far better they thought it was some scared villagers.
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"You do that, wouldn't want to lose our best supplier of witchwood now would we?"
"Hah, I suppose not. I'll be on my way then."
"Safe journey, Human."
"You as well, Orc."
Francis' word was good, and even with the recent rains the bridges were steady and the roads were clear. It took them less than a week to make it back to their small town deep in the Whitecap Mountains, where they were greeted by the sight of a massive, black winged Dragon descending on the edge of town.
---
The Dragon was immense, with a wingspan of more than 40 yards, it's body was surprisingly squat, resembling more of an elongated frog with wings than a lizard.
"Stay here Raiden." Rigel growled as he hopped of the wagon and ran forward, shouting towards the beast as he did.
"Franklin you little fool! Are you trying to get us all fucking killed!"
The Dragon turned around far more rapidly than its frame would seem to allow, croaking a deafening sound as it backed up, nearly crushing a part of a small stone wall.
«Sorry Rigel,» the voice of a young man echeod in the skulls of everyone nearby. «it was killing me. I had to fly just a little. I didn't go far, nobody saw me I swear!»
"Someone DID see you, you brainless lummox! Thank the stars it was just some peasant farmer none of the guards believed! Do you WANT us to have to fight off a bunch of idiots with spears and crossbows?" Rigel briefly paused to catch his breath. "And shift back this INSTANT. Your mother is NOT going to be happy with you young man."
The Dragons eyes grew wide with terror, as it's body began to blur and contract, quickly shifting into the form of a young man barely old enough to be shaving.
"Please don't tell her! I'll do anything! I just needed to fly a little, it was just a few hours a night, I swear!" Franklin's slightly chubby face was indeed desperate, hopelessness spreading rapidly across it as his ears turned a red to match his messy hair.
"Honestly, how does she not know already?" Rigel sighed. "We keep ourselves hidden from the godlets for a reason. Nobody wants another war, nobody could survive another war. In the future, you either fly north, or you don't fly at all, understand?"
"Yessir. Don't fly south again sir. Understood sir."
"Good. Now help me offload the cart. I got almost everything people asked for this time. Even the honey."
Franklin grinned and rushed to help, maybe he could convince Sharla to make sweetcakes later.
---
Raiden knew humans couldn't use magic. When his friends in the city started juggling fire or skating on air he had eagerly awaited what his abilities would be. When he realized he would never gain any he was heartbroken. When his friends started avoiding him, and their moms started waving brooms at him he was devastated. All he wanted to do was to show them that he was special too. His dad said to never, ever tell anyone that humans were Dragons. He said it would be very bad. Raiden understood that it could be scary for people who didn't know that dragons were friendly, people always talked about how they were nightmarish creatures who rained down death from the skies, but Raiden mostly saw them trading for seeds and plowing fields. Maybe if other people saw that they wouldn't be scared. Maybe when Raiden first shifted he could show people they were normal. He was only 8 though, so it would be at least 4 years before he could shift into his Dragon-Form.
The funny god-book said that dragons ruled over humans, but that couldn't have been right. Dad said Dragons were humans first. All humans are dragons. He supposed the gods must have just written it wrong. He wrote things wrong in school after all. Every morning when he went to learn letters and numbers. He hated those 2 hours a day. Too much writing.
Raiden shrugged as his dad got back to the cart, and started unloading the small items with him and Franklin. They lived in a nice town. It was good to be home.
---
It was such a shame things weren't left that way. Fear has a way of making people irrational, fear has a way of turning into hatred. Burning, uncontrollable hatred, and terror of anything "other". This was the harsh reality Raiden was forced to face not long before his first shift.