I think I now know the dictionary definition of brutality. Juaki, or dearest mother, held nothing back, even when she left us burned and bruised on the floor begging for mercy. I got put through a crate, Humey was introduced to the ceiling, Mibata learned to fly into a wall, and Tokols discovered how to turn green after getting gut punched. And this was all just in the first hour. Twelve hours a day for seven days straight we would fight for our lives against the emerald terror, only to wind up in our beds groaning in pain. Even in a 4 on 1 battle we would only learn a new way to get hurt.

Somehow, by the end of it all, we were all capable of at least a minute against her. Bahruk reassured us by letting us know that such an accomplishment was actually quite impressive, and would put us a cut above the average denizen. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if we would fit in with the rest of our kind. My otherworldly insight made me an outsider, and I felt as though my family had emulated me to some degree, making us an entire family of weirdos. From what I was told, we would be the only literate, combat trained, and well spoken kobolds in this city.

I had voiced this concern to Mibata, and his insight into the matter was surprisingly nonchalant.

“Pretend to be dumb.”

That was… Actually, he was right. It wasn’t like the average person could read minds, so our exact abilities were pretty much hidden unless we wanted them known. There was one problem with this plan: our weapons. See, uncle Yabtin had left a few ingots of bronze behind for us to trade if we ever needed a windfall, and it turned out that kobold-flames were hot enough to melt said ingots. Dad carved molds into the floor, Mom melted the bars, and together they worked on honing the edge of each blade until all four of us had a matching short sword. They were a little crude, but a sword is a sword, and in the right hands that might be all that matters. If we wanted to stand out, being armed was an easy way to do that.Well, that was what I thought, anyway.

The day of our dragon-rites came, and after a lot of words of reassurance and a big breakfast we were finally leaving the nest. Our whole family stepped out into the tunnel for the first time. The tunnels were surprisingly empty tonight, which meant that everyone was already in the main room or asleep. Our trek through the winding tunnels had us pass by name homes, though they looked entirely different from our own. They were so… bland. All of their bedding was in the center area, and the supplies were kept in one singular shelf in the back. I suppose Dad’s magic allows for creative architecture that others aren’t privy to.

Soon enough we were coming to an area that must be the exit of this tunnel, and the scent in the air was impossible to describe. We ventured forward into a wide area, and my heart soared as I finally laid eyes upon the beating heart of our society.

Our home, which lies within the heart of a great mountain at the edge of surface dweller lands, was carved into the peak of the great stone monument. A shaft 800 feet wide descended from there, with catwalks, stairs, and elevators on every level as the city bore deeper into the world. When I looked up I could see stars high above me, and below I could see a mile deep city going ever downwards. The center area was aglow with lights both magical and aflame, illuminating a sea of colorful kobolds going about their tasks. Elevators whirred with power as cartloads of busy lizards went from floor to floor, and mechanical conveyors shuttled them from one side of the city to the other. A collective “wow” escaped the brothers, and I would have said the same too.

Bahruk waved us towards a lift that was surprisingly large, which he explained was a cargo lift. Most kobolds weren’t allowed to use them, but pops could because he made it. He was especially proud of that fact, so I decided to clap for him. The others followed my lead, and we managed to make him blush. Without any warning he pulled a lever, and the whole cart began to descend at a brisk speed. Perhaps it was the updraft of the main column, but it felt like we were dropping much faster than we were.

As we neared the bottom, I could see people of every size and shape leaning on the rails or going down personnel lifts at a slower pace than us. Some were armed, others clothed, there were scales, feathers, fins and wings, so much variation it was dizzying. Some of them might not have even been kobolds. That one there looked awfully goblin-like to me, but that isn’t what I should be concerning myself with right now.

The dragon shrine was approaching, and I could feel that awful radiating malice that signaled the arrival of an elder. The others seemed to sense it too, and were scanning the monolithic altar area for the source. As we got lower, the sensation got more intense and I realized that I could sense the direction it was coming from. I knew I was more sensitive to mana than the rest, but this was a new experience. I followed the imaginary line the gaze of the elder left, and found myself looking directly at an awfully familiar face.

Zhathrael, Chalk Eater, that old bastard, whatever name he went by, I wouldn’t forget his face. He was seated on a balcony three floors above the altar, and seemed to be observing the ritual rather than hosting it. Good, stay right there you creepy old fucker. His red eyes were visible from where I stood, and even at this distance I could see the smug look on his face. I’m going to have to learn from Yabtin what the kobold gesture for “fuck you” was.

The other line I could trace was from the altar area itself, just below the enormous statue of a dragon carved from black stone. The statue was amazingly detailed, with every scale and ridge carved by a master artist, and the altar reflected this impressive display on a mirror-fine surface. The other elder was standing on the mirrored platform, their eyes scanning the crowd every few seconds before lingering on our family for a moment. This elder was jet black and almost seemed to blend in with the stature behind them, though their piercing green eyes gave them away. They stood there in silence, simply watching and waiting.

We made our way through the crowd until we were at the foot of the altar where we were stopped by the pair of red praetorians. They spoke in unison as they addressed us.

“Take nothing upon the altar. Only flesh may approach the great dragon.”

Disarming and giving our swords to Juaki was the wisest choice. Today was a ceremony for us, after all, so it made sense to abide by the ancient traditions. It was a little disconcerting to leave my writing slab behind, but my brothers nodded when I stepped forward without it. Together we climbed the steps of the great altar, which was taller than even the fifth floor.

At the top, we found ourselves behind a line of other kobolds of similar age. There were three other groups, one with five and the other two having three each. Every one of them looked nervous, and one even looked to be on the verge of fainting. I looked between our group, and saw that each of them wore a stoic look.

The murmuring of the crowd died down after a while, and once the brilliant light of the rising moons shone down the shaft and onto the altar everything went silent. The moons were brilliant and white, their light just as immaculate as the moon of Earth. Their rays flooded the main room, and an unbelievable thing happened: The jet black statue turned to pure white, and seemed to radiate like the celestial bodies above. A sense of power, ancient and untamed, radiated from the dragon icon. I looked to the mirror floor beneath the dragon, only to see that the reflection was still black as night, and that there was no moon in the sky in the mirror world. So cool!

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The elder presiding over the ritual stepped forth from their place at the foot for the stone beast and to the edge of the altar. Their voice was amplified, and boomed into the highest reaches of the city.

“Welcome, and thank you for joining us tonight for our moon-rise tradition and duty of introducing these youths to the power latent in their veins. Tonight the great ancients will peer through the veil of death and give their blessing to the worthy, and we shall bear witness to their divinity unleashed. Rejoice! Rejoice!”

With each cheer the crowd would go wild with cheers and cries. I could see at the base of the altar that neither Juaki or Bahruk were joining in on the jubilation. They looked worried, though I could also see pride in the concern. They knew this was necessary, as did we. It was time to face the music.

“Come forth, spawn of tribe Choakiit’na!”

The first group of three stepped onto the mirrored platform, and following the directions of the elder would kneel facing the statue while looking into the mirror. The ritual began when the statue began chanting from its stone mouth, causing a swirling display of sparks and embers to rise from within the mirror. The kobolds seemed as though they were trying to look away from the floor but were unable to until a crimson liquid poured upwards from the otherworldly mirror and into their open mouths. Once they had ingested the liquid the lights stopped, and they regained their freedom. Wild eyed and jittery they rejoined us, though something about them was off. They smelled like magic now.

“Next, from clan Torn-Skin!”

The next group of three stepped forth and endured the ritual, though among them was one who did not ingest any of the red liquid. The ritual ended, and the two chosen came back to us. The third was sent to the other side of the altar, where another praetorian led them down the back of the altar and into the crowd. Well, at least they didn’t sacrifice the guy.

“Come forth, children of the Dread-Claws!”

The pack of five went into the light, and like those before partook of the mystery substance. Once the light faded something awful happened, and one of the kobolds began to sink into the mirror. Their screams and cries for help went unanswered as the reflection swallowed him, leaving no trace of his existence. The siblings were forced away from the altar and back with us, where they fell and openly wept for their lost brother. My heart ached as the wails echoed within the quiet space.

“One soul has been taken by the ancients. Let us celebrate their worthy sacrifice once the ritual is complete. Now, step forth brood of the Undertaker!”

That wasn’t right. The crowd let out a gasp, clearly upset by the mention of this Undertaker.Mom told us before that we were from the Freescale lineage. Something was wrong here, and I had a feeling I knew what was up. I glanced down at our resident sociopath and saw his smug look had warped into a wicked smile.

No choice but to push ahead. Mibata turned to look at me, so I gave him an affirmative nod. We stepped onto the platform together and took our places knelt before the almighty dragon. I looked into the eyes of the stone titan, and could see nothing but dark voids where there should be eyes on the otherwise perfect white dragon. Those stone lips began to move, and a force compelled me to look down into the mirror.

From within the altered world I saw only the sky without moons or stars, and the black dragon with shining white eyes. It smiled, baring those jagged fangs at me with glee as it’s face came closer to my own. I heard a voice, but I knew it wasn’t a single voice. It was millions of voices speaking at once in unison, their overlap creating a single form for me to listen to.

“My word, what have we here? You’re a pretty little one, aren’t you? Death’s chosen… No, don’t try to hide it, I can see everything. Robin. No, you like Kayrux better, don’t you? That’s not important though, as we have little time.”

The impossible voice didn’t leave my head, though it felt as though inbetween it words I could still hear thousands of those voices, each saying something different. The claw of the dragon scratched at the mirror, but left no imprint.

“I will look into your very essence, and determine whether your body is deserving of my power. Embrace the dragon within, little one, and let me see your soul.”

When Chalk Eater had used the red stone to enter my mind, it felt as though someone were knocking and asking to be let in. This thing, whatever it claimed to be, was more aggressive, and simply pushed the door off its hinges. I couldn’t resist, only wait and allow this outworlder’s power to inspect my soul.

“Hmm. Unbound by fate, a healer of bonds, and a pathfinder. Goodness me, someone is special. Well, I suppose you are quite interesting, and I do need to put forth some effort. You have my blessing, and my blood. Use them wisely.”

The hand of the dragon came to rest against the mirror directly below my head. On its palm formed a deep laceration, from which poured a deep crimson blood that defied gravity and rose into my mouth which devoured the liquid on its own volition. Memories of when I swallowed the magic stone came to mind as the ichor forced its way into my gullet. That feeling of raw power seeping into my blood, of burning cells through my body and rewriting my existence to hold the flowing energy. I would take the magic stone a thousand times before I chose this.

A moment passed after the liquid finished flowing, then I watched as the mirror world changed and distorted until the place beyond was an intangible mess of flowing colors and shapes. The compulsion forced upon me by the spell ended, dropping me face first onto the floor. Pushing myself back up, I now saw that I was looking into a regular mirror, which showed me as I am now. Blue scales, silver stripes, short horns, sleek angular face, and bright golden eyes.

A hand pulled me from the ground and led me over to the other successful kobolds, though I was unable to see very far for some reason. My vision was blurry, and the darkness of the cave seemed to mask everything other than the altar. My hands fumbled around until a familiar grip took hold of mine. I squeezed the hand, and a voice I recognized as Tokols answered.

“Kay, c-can you hear me? I can’t hear anything, and I feel so c-c-cold. What the hell was in that stuff?”

I couldn’t see him very well, but I shook my head. I tried to speak, but my lack of voice once again held me back. I instead held up two fingers and squeezed at his hand.

“S-sorry, I don’t know what you want.”

I pointed to my eyes then at the area around me and shrugged.

“You can’t s-see? Humey can’t see either, and Mibata can’t m-move.”

Oh thank God. That’s all I wanted to know. If that altar had eaten one of my brothers, I would have gone into a blind fury. Instead, I was just blind and furious with all my brothers still here. Not great, but if I had to choose I’d take it.

The elder’s magnified voice boomed into the air once again.

“Rejoice! The ritual is complete, and the glory of the dragon lives on. Celebrate this occasion, and give thanks to the ancients. Rejoice! Rejoice!”

Once the crazy cultist had finished their mad speech, the whole area was blanketed in darkness as the white statue returned to its inert form, and the twin moons drifted beyond the edge of the roof opening. Now, I could truly see nothing.

I wanted to scream, to cry, and to throw myself to the ground and wail. My mind was reeling, and the darkness combined with the now rising chatter of the thousands of gathered people was maddening. It sounded too much like the mirror dragon, and was making me hear words that weren’t being spoken.

“Watching you. Changing you. Remade in my image.”

I put my hands over my ears and fell to my knees, unable to control myself any longer. Why is it that everyone wants to poke around inside my head? What the fuck were they after? WHY? Just leave me alone! I couldn’t catch my breath, and I found myself face first on the floor again.

As I fought the madness back in my mind, I was vaguely aware of a large arm wrapping around my torso and pulling me from the ground. I was unceremoniously chucked over some large shoulder, which rumbled as a hoarse voice roared out.

“Bata, you’re my eyes! Guide us down!”

Another, very weary voice came from the same direction as the booming voice.

“Left turn, three steps, stairs. Go, Hu, go!”

Sightless and speechless, I was helpless as I was carried down the stairs of the altar. I feared that Humey would slip and fall, taking all of us tumbling down with him, but he managed to get us to the bottom safely. I could hear Juaki and Bahruk’s voices asking what was wrong, but Humey’s thunderous voice drowned them out.

“Can’t see, hard to breathe. Need the lift now.”

We moved again, and I could feel as my burly brother bulldozed his way through the crowd while following mom’s voice. It wasn’t long before I felt the lurch of the lift hoisting us into the higher levels. The sudden ascent made me light headed, and I could feel my consciousness slipping, as well as the stares of three different elders.