Interlude

The darkness of the woods was his only sanctuary. Branches tugged at his shirt and pants as he ran through the trees. Thoughts raced through his mind faster than he could run. The words of Tiamat’s flaming avatar were burned into his mind as if they were etched into his soul.

She was his mother. He knew it was true. It was the deepest truth his life was nested upon. She was his mother and that piece of information fit into the puzzle that was his existence. He railed at the thought he was so wrong for all these years. He had believed he was connected to Basmu. He had served Era. All those beliefs were meaningless to him now. At his core, he was a child of Tiamat.

“Baaaaaasssssssssmmmmmmuuuuuuuu!!!” He yelled, his head thrown back

“Era!”

He was met with nothing except the sounds of the forest, he gripped his hammer. He swung, slamming his hammer into tree after tree. Some burst at the force of the blow, others merely dented. None of this mattered to Riakon. He took out a lifetime of frustration on the world around him until he had nothing left. He dropped to his knees exhausted, his arms heavy, his legs jelly, and his voice horse from his screams of pain and desperation.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

As his hope for answers dwindled, he felt a burning in his shoulder. He had all, but forgotten the gift Tiamt had given him. He slipped his arm out of his shirt and angled his shoulder into a beam of bright moonlight.

There he could see an image of a five headed dragon. The front of his shoulder held the body of the creature made up of a pale scar. From there sprouted five heads on long twisting necks. The whole thing looked like a cross between a brand, scar, and tattoo with the five heads resting on top of his shoulder.

He could feel the mark grow hot. It glowed with a dark purplish black light. He felt power well up inside of him. It bubbled up as he clamped down on it. The pressure built inside of him. He felt like he was going to burst if he did not release it.

A cold sweat broke out across his whole body as the power morphed and changed. He knew this power belonged to Tiamat and something within himself told him nothing good could come from using her gifts.

A voice hissed in his ear,

“Don’t deny who you are.” The words grew fainter and fainter as he pushed the power down. It finally stayed buried as the words trailed off. He was once again surrounded by nothing, but the sounds of the woods and the rapid thundering of his own heart.