The Dragon of Roads - Path of the Dragon

My ambition never included venturing down the path to godhood, yet there I did tread. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I am but a demigod, as I yet dwell in the material world and mere mortals do not burst asunder in the presence of my divinity. Such theological distinctions are too pedantic for my tastes, as I prefer ventures based in practicality. And for you, dear reader, that understanding of divinity may suffice, even though it is oversimplified. The road to divinity was built by my own hand, and in a far more literal sense than most gods, or so I assume.

I am The Dragon of Roads; such is my moniker. Much of my life has been spent building and maintaining roads in all the lands of the countless worlds. I play no favorites on behalf of the nations therein, I levy no toll upon travelers, and I care little for permission from the landed gentry to practice my craft and improve the lives of the common folk. I would not say that my purpose is completely selfless, as I too reap rewards from the network of roads I have crafted.

My roads are my treasure, a part of my hoard shared freely to the world. For what is a dragon without a hoard? My body may be immortal, but my mind is still that of a mortal, and I need a hobby to help me endure the passing of eternity. And so I collect, I gather, I hoard all which pleases me, much as any good dragon should, even at the danger of being found cliché. It has become a goal until itself, a purpose without end, a hunger and, dare I say, an addiction. I wonder at times if I own my hoard or if it has come to own me.

There is little I do not collect these days. Wealth, gifts received, baubles, ruined artifacts forgotten by man and time, lovers, books, spoons, wanted posters, skulls of my enemies, enemies (with skulls yet unclaimed)... The list goes on, but I certainly collect things that most mortals would not care for. Most of the time when mortals show up, its “You killed my father, and I am here for my vengeance,” or “Please help me overcome some oddly specific obstacle in my life that could probably be solved by a simpler means than divine intervention,” and never “I really want to see your carefully curated snail collection that you acquired over three centuries while scouring every corner of the world.” I worked hard for those snails, dammit! I guess that is all for the best, otherwise everyone and his brother would try to offer me every scrap of junk they found on the ground on their way to petition me.

I do collect things of little monetary value as well. I remember a little girl, alone with almost nothing left, for all else in her life had been rendered into blood and ash by a raiding party from an army that devoured all in its path. Her own life was down to its final thread, and I am ashamed to say that I could not save her in those circumstances. Her friends and family had been taken from her, and she had only her doll, a crude, anthropomorphic bunny rabbit with a blue dress. She gripped that soiled doll tightly to her frail and ravaged body as she lay there forgotten by her cruel tormentors. If I had wanted the doll for myself, I could have taken it, either before or after she slipped from this world. To her, it had been everything, her security and a promise that she would be safe if she just held onto it, and yet she offered it to me. She did not swear bloody vengeance, but instead asked that I “stop those bad men from hurting more people”.

What value can be placed on the last thing not yet taken from an innocent girl who had lost everything? I accepted, of course. I stayed with her until the end, doing my best to comfort her and probably failing miserably. I watched as a precious flower of youth wilted before it had the chance to bloom, its petals sullied by vulgar wretches. I wiped out the raiding party as they reveled in their misdeeds, devoured the army with my hungering flame as man and beast cried out in pain and terror, tore the body of their vile king asunder with my claws as he begged for his life, and scoured the blight of the entire ruling class of their nation from this world. I toppled their palaces, their churches to their foul gods, their monuments to their greed and their own glory. I eradicated the last vestiges of corruption and avarice from that wretched kingdom with zeal forged from sorrow and wrath in equal measure. It didn’t bring that little girl back, it didn’t save her family, but it was all I could do by that point. Not enough, but my best, even though she deserved far more. I treasure that soiled doll more than most things, and I would not trade it for all the world, my little reminder of innocence lost and of my failure to act before it was too late.

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Perhaps I get ahead of myself with such sad tales. The roads started out as a means to an end, a way to amplify the flow of goods and the opportunity to collect. I built shrines and waystations along the way, each a safe place for travelers to rest. Turns out, if you put a fancy dragon statue in a shrine, people tend to leap at the opportunity to clasp hands together in supplication at them. I listened to their prayers because I could, for such was one of many benefits of my shrines. I ignored most petitioners, but some requests amused me one way or another, and so I would deign to render aid from time to time.

Answering prayers proved to be a critical mistake. Particularly pleased customers attracted more as they told friends and family, and with such a following, their gratitude transformed into reverence. Cults arose in my name, though I took no effort to help them form. At times, I even tried to stop them, for I did not want them to see me as being more than I was. Alas, such cults cropped up faster than I could remove them. The cults meant well, forming belief systems centered around doing good unto good and evil unto evil, which aligned with my own values. Cults merged, schisms formed, and theological battles raged. Eventually, such strife gave way to organized religion, although fortunately, one bereft of institutional authority imposed by the church, for I despise authoritarian theocracies that leverage my name as grounds for dominion over the masses.

Perhaps my single greatest mistake in avoiding godhood was playing along with some of the rituals of my followers. I am a sucker for a good festival, an artistic performance, an eager lover offering herself as tribute, and games of sport and chance. That these rituals were held in my honor was not what attracted me, I merely enjoyed the events themselves. My attendance, and at least the absence of any disfavor, sanctified and legitimized the rituals and encouraged annual repetition. Begrudgingly at first, I enjoyed the experiences and opportunities to add to my hoard in equal measure, so I continued to allow it, seeing no harm.

And then one day, divinity awakened within me as apotheosis manifested rather suddenly. I gained access to a divine portfolio of powers and responsibilities. I had no means to reject it, to disable it, as no official offer was ever made for me to consider. There were other gods that the people could turn to, yet I had somehow amassed too many followers to avoid that divine spark. I am The Dragon of Roads, a demigod of roads, bridges, safe travel across land via known routes, and of enabling free trade and the sharing of ideas. My churches are my way stations along my roads. To travel my roads is to honor me. To see what wonders I have built along them is to perform a pilgrimage to my glory. To help a fellow traveler is to sing a hymn. I did not choose this. I often wonder if the gods had intended this all along for me, that I would join their ranks as a lesser deity.

I wield powers unimaginable to most mortals, I bend reality to my will within my domain, and I dictate the fate of the world in many ways. I have gained enemies both mortal and divine. My power grows still, albeit slowly compared to the lifetime of these mortals. Yet, I was mortal once, indeed more than once. I was not always a dragon. I remember being relatively normal and powerless. I retain recollection of multiple lives lived before this one I have now. Though the specific memories of each are clouded, I have certainly lived at least a thousand lives. I know that this life of mine is a reincarnation after death, but it is not my first time as such. I know not if any of that matters any more, for it would probably take until the end of time itself for me to die and test if more lives lie ahead of me. Even if someone could somehow vanquish a demigod, death is not the end for them, merely an inconvenience.

I accept my burden, my place in the universe. The road was long, and I had many opportunities to venture down a different fork, yet this was the path chosen. I have faced trials and tribulations beyond mortal ken. And now, dear reader, I share my story. I have many tales to tell, but this is one of how a simple boy became a dragon, and how a dragon became a demigod.