Chapter 1: Crimson Glint

“Anyone who says all men are created equal must have received a name. You, my boy, are but a concept, a rabbit’s foot amidst names of great beasts who have received names in the most venerable tongues.” The words echoed again and again as the colossal figure loomed over him, shading his measly presence.

“Rabbit! Rabbit!” his name was uttered in the distance. He was sweating bullets, his thoughts fleeting in fear, standing in front of the gargantuan figure. “My na-me...” he thought, as the voice calling out to him became clearer and clearer. The mountainous figure was reaching out to him, the voice calling his name louder and louder. The terror of the hand coming towards him like a mountain, threatening to flatten a measly rodent, grew unbearable. The voice screeching his name into his ears destroyed any semblance of poise he had. His eyes widened right before the hand grasped his puny self, a wail filling his throat, waiting to be pushed out in terror.

“NO!” cried out Rabbit. He looked around in tears and sweat, wetting his bed sheets. “Breathing, how to breathe? Calm down.” These thoughts ran through the young man’s head as he pushed his long, light brown locks that had stuck to his face from sweat and moisture away from his eyes.

A soft touch made him quickly hop on the bed. Rabbit knew the touch well. Although the hand was covered in calluses, her touch never felt rough. “Mo... mother!” he uttered, his voice still shaky.

The woman’s soft smile spread, though the crow's feet around her eyes, along with the bags under them, showed how tired she was. Her long, light brown hair was tied into a loose braid. Both mother and son shared that homely color in their hair.

“Same nightmare, honey?” she said softly, not to wake their neighbors. The granite pillar that housed at least 500 people did not really have any manner of insulation for sound and barely had any for heat. Rabbit nodded but placed a hand on his mother's shoulder and, with a fake smile meant to reassure, said, “Sorry to wake you, Mom. Go back to sleep. You needn’t worry. It must be the Venture jitters.”

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“You do not have to go if you do not want to... You do not need to take the trial. Besides, I love my rabbit all the same.” She ruffled her son’s hair. A pout followed in response from the young Rabbit.

“I will be 18 tomorrow and the Venture of the season starts tomorrow as well.” The pout left its place to an anxious yet hopeful expression on his bony face. “The sooner I can get an actual name, the sooner I can get us out of this hole and maybe we can restore...” He stopped, not wanting to upset his mother, and did not continue. “We can leave him and his memory behind. Drakes scorch him.” His normally soft and agreeable tone turned shaky and furious. When he was younger, this anger ran hotter, but now there was only cold, frigid hatred. It seemed this anger that smoldered his heart had already seared its mark on it, a mark that would never pass.

The middle-aged woman hugged her son tightly. “Never bear this much anger for any soul. It will ruin you.” She spoke with a tone filled with somber sadness. His brow furrowing and teeth gritting came to an abrupt halt almost immediately. His features softened hearing her words, feeling her anxiousness. His jaw unclenched, and to soothe her heart to the best of his abilities, he said as softly as humanly possible, “I’m sorry. I’ll try my best not to let that anger and hatred fester more than it already has.” His dark crimson eyes softened, slowly letting go of his horrid anger.

His mother spoke up a moment after their embrace ended while they slowly drifted apart on his bed. “I will always root for you, son. The red glint in your eyes should always shine, okay? Now get some rest.” She slowly rose up and took the other creaking old hay bed. Her eyes were a shade of green that used to glow like emeralds, his uncle said. The crimson glint was his gift from Callum ShatteredSoil, his father. Even the thought of calling him that deadbeat made his blood boil, spoiling his mother’s honor by not marrying her and condemning them to this miserable existence. He sighed, letting go of the rage, at least for tonight.

“For tonight,” he uttered, hoping to at least keep his promise on the very first night that he made it. He looked out of the window next to his bed. The little nook they lived in had small carved holes in the granite walls for windows. The house was already one stone room; everything was a nook or window. Even the door was just a bigger hole, if not for the hay curtains his mother put up. Above the clouds, the nocturna birds flew under the moonlit sky, free and uncaring. The colossal pillar that housed hundreds like him, and many more pillars rising from the Venturan, the draconian kingdom above the clouds, and the only thing he envied were the birds. Leaning on the carved granite made to be a window, sleep slowly crept into his eyes and heart as he looked over Venturan.

“The blessed drake upon the sky shall grant me my name.”