"Why do we continue to sit idle and uselessly contemplate the impossible?"
The bold voice came from Shaar, a curious and intimidating specimen known as a Scalebrood, a dwindling humanoid species with features that unmistakably called back to their ancestral heritage of the Dragon Lords. Gray scales dominated his burly body, with an angular, lizardlike head and ghostly white eyes that seemed to pierce right through anyone who dared to acknowledge him. His position managing and ordering the defenses of the village of Nira Khaal was one that suited his appearance.
However, he was not alone. The other two Scalebroods in the dimly-lit council chambers were Mehi, a deep blue female who maintained the farmers and suppliers of the village, and Skaroth, an aged gray male with blindness in his left eye, and the leader of the village. All three of the high-ranking members sat around a circular table, and the tense energy of the room had been slowly rising, a storm threatening to break through. A most unprecedented event had occurred the night prior, just outside their hunting grounds. It stirred the people of Nira Khaal into an uncertain slew of whispers and predictions–but ultimately, it was up to the council to make this difficult decision. And at the rate the meeting had been going, it was unlikely that a consensus would be made anytime soon.
"What choice do we have?" Mehi asked as a counterpoint. Her voice seemed to dance through the air, reflecting her infamously forgiving demeanor, though her expression was hardened into something more defensive in the presence of Shaar. "Do we simply leave the infant and cast him to the wild? The child has done nothing–"
"The child is human!" Shaar abruptly snapped, slamming a clawed fist down on the carved stone table, sending a brief vibration through the material. He snarled and bared his teeth, a display of his legendary temper. "I need not remind you of the implications, Mehi. We all know what the humans think of the Scalebroods. History has proven this, time and time again!"
Mehi crossed her arms and huffed, growing tired of the ordeal of a conversation. "He is innocent. We know nothing about his parents, his blood."
Shaar sneered and pointed a finger at her throat. "Exactly. The dangers of his heritage are boundless. What are the chances that his parents are mercenaries? Hunters? Killers? We both know what happens when our kind meddle with their business. Teeth become decor. Scales become trophies."
Skaroth sat with his back straight, ever quiet, casting a deathly glare at both of the council members. He spoke little, but when he did, those around him grew silent. The grasses hush when the mountain looms.
Shaar turned his attention to the Lord in armor, tossing his hands about in energetic gestures. "Lord Skaroth, surely you remember what happened to your brother's–"
"Enough!"
The voice crackled like thunder, commanding Shaar to back down, who flinched and hunched down slightly in an instinctual survival response. Skaroth leaned forward and laced his hands together on the table, casting a deathly cold look to the leader of defense.
"Zenith-Ka is yet to arrive. Once his word is spoken, the decision will be made. Sit. Down."
Shaar grimaced, bowed, and took a seat silently. "He's yet to appear," he mused quietly, but audible to the others. "It's not like him to be so late. What could be taking him so long?"
"Inspecting the matter at hand."
Three heads turned to a fourth figure, who had just entered the room with something cradled in both arms, wrapped in dirtied cloth. Zenith-Ka was an exceptionally strong and wise Scalebrood, who was in charge of training the greatest warriors in Nira Khaal. He stood tall and proud, glistening snow-white scales dominating his figure, and hints of vivid cyan dotting his shoulders and horns. His stoic and calm energy was a welcome presence to Skaroth, who had been sitting and listening to Shaar's bickering for several minutes.
Mehi frowned slightly at Zenith-Ka, though not enough to impose disrespect. "What exactly caused such a delay, Zenith-Ka? You are always timely with your arrivals."
Zenith-Ka took slow, careful steps as he held the object in his arms, taking great care with his motions, indicating a certain frailty or importance to whatever he was holding. "I could not make a proper judgment without seeing the infant for myself–a step the rest of you apparently did not take. There is something you should see."
Ever so gently–almost uncharacteristically so–Zenith-Ka peeled away a piece of fabric from the cloth-wrapped item, then laid it on the table. Three pairs of eyes opened wider in disbelief of what they saw.
The infant was indeed human in appearance, but not fully. A soft and chubby face stared blankly back at the Scalebrood council, and instead of fear or aggression, childlike wonder filled his unnatural cyan-colored eyes. The child turned its head back and forth, observing, but did not fret.
However, what made a world of difference from this infant to the rest of his species was a single detail; lining his cheekbones in two artful lines beneath his eyes were an array of tiny, delicate, golden scales that glimmered in the dull light of the room.
The child had Scalebrood heritage of the rarest kind.
In the silence that followed this moment of revelation, Zenith-Ka took an opportunity to speak on the matter.
"He bears regal blood," he reminded the council, referring to the gold contours that decorated the baby's pale complexion. "The scales he bears marks him as one of our kind, even if his human half has dominated his appearance. I see no reason why we cannot take care of him and treat him as one of our own."
"Yes," Mehi agreed, apparently delighted to hear a positive opinion. She extended a finger to the child experimentally, who reached out with a little hand and curiously tapped it with his palm.
Shaar opened and closed his mouth a few times, sharp teeth displayed in the brief periods of dumbfounded exhales, and confusion marked the look in his eyes. "But… the humans don't accept Scalebroods and–"
"And why shouldn't we?" Zenith-Ka interrupted firmly, staring hard at Shaar. "You live soured by a past that is not the present, my friend. Countering the oppression the humans bring upon us only proves the false rumors they spread of our animalistic ferocity. This is our chance to stand out from the rest."
Skaroth tapped his staff twice on the floor, the sound echoing between the walls. All eyes fell on the Lord of Nira Khaal, who gazed at the child with an unreadable expression.
"We have come to a consensus. The child shall be raised as one of our own. Zenith-Ka, does he bear a name?"
Zenith-Ka shook his head solemnly as he picked up the infant once more, cradling him softly. "He does not."
Shaar laid a hand on the side of his head and leaned on the table with his elbow, apparently frustrated. "Incredible. We've taken a half-thing who's just a fraction of the Scalebrood he should be."
"What more does he need to be?" Zenith-Ka asked in return, demonstrating timeless patience. He made eye contact with the baby, who gazed up at him with wonderfully bright eyes. "A child is a child. We cannot ask them to be more."
"But he's just… an echo of our former glory."
Zenith-Ka turned tail and made slow, steady steps toward the exit. The autumn breeze wafted in as the door creaked open, and the evening sun cast bright hues that reflected off of the infant's golden scales.
"And that is all he needs to be. Welcome home, Echo."
The bold voice came from Shaar, a curious and intimidating specimen known as a Scalebrood, a dwindling humanoid species with features that unmistakably called back to their ancestral heritage of the Dragon Lords. Gray scales dominated his burly body, with an angular, lizardlike head and ghostly white eyes that seemed to pierce right through anyone who dared to acknowledge him. His position managing and ordering the defenses of the village of Nira Khaal was one that suited his appearance.
However, he was not alone. The other two Scalebroods in the dimly-lit council chambers were Mehi, a deep blue female who maintained the farmers and suppliers of the village, and Skaroth, an aged gray male with blindness in his left eye, and the leader of the village. All three of the high-ranking members sat around a circular table, and the tense energy of the room had been slowly rising, a storm threatening to break through. A most unprecedented event had occurred the night prior, just outside their hunting grounds. It stirred the people of Nira Khaal into an uncertain slew of whispers and predictions–but ultimately, it was up to the council to make this difficult decision. And at the rate the meeting had been going, it was unlikely that a consensus would be made anytime soon.
"What choice do we have?" Mehi asked as a counterpoint. Her voice seemed to dance through the air, reflecting her infamously forgiving demeanor, though her expression was hardened into something more defensive in the presence of Shaar. "Do we simply leave the infant and cast him to the wild? The child has done nothing–"
"The child is human!" Shaar abruptly snapped, slamming a clawed fist down on the carved stone table, sending a brief vibration through the material. He snarled and bared his teeth, a display of his legendary temper. "I need not remind you of the implications, Mehi. We all know what the humans think of the Scalebroods. History has proven this, time and time again!"
Mehi crossed her arms and huffed, growing tired of the ordeal of a conversation. "He is innocent. We know nothing about his parents, his blood."
Shaar sneered and pointed a finger at her throat. "Exactly. The dangers of his heritage are boundless. What are the chances that his parents are mercenaries? Hunters? Killers? We both know what happens when our kind meddle with their business. Teeth become decor. Scales become trophies."
Skaroth sat with his back straight, ever quiet, casting a deathly glare at both of the council members. He spoke little, but when he did, those around him grew silent. The grasses hush when the mountain looms.
Shaar turned his attention to the Lord in armor, tossing his hands about in energetic gestures. "Lord Skaroth, surely you remember what happened to your brother's–"
"Enough!"
The voice crackled like thunder, commanding Shaar to back down, who flinched and hunched down slightly in an instinctual survival response. Skaroth leaned forward and laced his hands together on the table, casting a deathly cold look to the leader of defense.
"Zenith-Ka is yet to arrive. Once his word is spoken, the decision will be made. Sit. Down."
Shaar grimaced, bowed, and took a seat silently. "He's yet to appear," he mused quietly, but audible to the others. "It's not like him to be so late. What could be taking him so long?"
"Inspecting the matter at hand."
Three heads turned to a fourth figure, who had just entered the room with something cradled in both arms, wrapped in dirtied cloth. Zenith-Ka was an exceptionally strong and wise Scalebrood, who was in charge of training the greatest warriors in Nira Khaal. He stood tall and proud, glistening snow-white scales dominating his figure, and hints of vivid cyan dotting his shoulders and horns. His stoic and calm energy was a welcome presence to Skaroth, who had been sitting and listening to Shaar's bickering for several minutes.
Mehi frowned slightly at Zenith-Ka, though not enough to impose disrespect. "What exactly caused such a delay, Zenith-Ka? You are always timely with your arrivals."
Zenith-Ka took slow, careful steps as he held the object in his arms, taking great care with his motions, indicating a certain frailty or importance to whatever he was holding. "I could not make a proper judgment without seeing the infant for myself–a step the rest of you apparently did not take. There is something you should see."
Ever so gently–almost uncharacteristically so–Zenith-Ka peeled away a piece of fabric from the cloth-wrapped item, then laid it on the table. Three pairs of eyes opened wider in disbelief of what they saw.
The infant was indeed human in appearance, but not fully. A soft and chubby face stared blankly back at the Scalebrood council, and instead of fear or aggression, childlike wonder filled his unnatural cyan-colored eyes. The child turned its head back and forth, observing, but did not fret.
However, what made a world of difference from this infant to the rest of his species was a single detail; lining his cheekbones in two artful lines beneath his eyes were an array of tiny, delicate, golden scales that glimmered in the dull light of the room.
The child had Scalebrood heritage of the rarest kind.
In the silence that followed this moment of revelation, Zenith-Ka took an opportunity to speak on the matter.
"He bears regal blood," he reminded the council, referring to the gold contours that decorated the baby's pale complexion. "The scales he bears marks him as one of our kind, even if his human half has dominated his appearance. I see no reason why we cannot take care of him and treat him as one of our own."
"Yes," Mehi agreed, apparently delighted to hear a positive opinion. She extended a finger to the child experimentally, who reached out with a little hand and curiously tapped it with his palm.
Shaar opened and closed his mouth a few times, sharp teeth displayed in the brief periods of dumbfounded exhales, and confusion marked the look in his eyes. "But… the humans don't accept Scalebroods and–"
"And why shouldn't we?" Zenith-Ka interrupted firmly, staring hard at Shaar. "You live soured by a past that is not the present, my friend. Countering the oppression the humans bring upon us only proves the false rumors they spread of our animalistic ferocity. This is our chance to stand out from the rest."
Skaroth tapped his staff twice on the floor, the sound echoing between the walls. All eyes fell on the Lord of Nira Khaal, who gazed at the child with an unreadable expression.
"We have come to a consensus. The child shall be raised as one of our own. Zenith-Ka, does he bear a name?"
Zenith-Ka shook his head solemnly as he picked up the infant once more, cradling him softly. "He does not."
Shaar laid a hand on the side of his head and leaned on the table with his elbow, apparently frustrated. "Incredible. We've taken a half-thing who's just a fraction of the Scalebrood he should be."
"What more does he need to be?" Zenith-Ka asked in return, demonstrating timeless patience. He made eye contact with the baby, who gazed up at him with wonderfully bright eyes. "A child is a child. We cannot ask them to be more."
"But he's just… an echo of our former glory."
Zenith-Ka turned tail and made slow, steady steps toward the exit. The autumn breeze wafted in as the door creaked open, and the evening sun cast bright hues that reflected off of the infant's golden scales.
"And that is all he needs to be. Welcome home, Echo."