Insert from Beast of No Nation: Studies of Dragonology:
[Upon reading this book, one must understand that dragons have always been a fascination in the secular world. Often described as serpentine, dragons are creatures that are often end owned with an array of features resembling various other animals (such as feline or lizard-like heads with lion paws or claws and a plethora of other features). Dragons are mostly written as ferocious, devouring monsters; many cultures have claimed they spit fire; they may be aquatic, terrestrial, or aerial beings. Though the specific image of the dragon’s monstrous body becomes distorted through time and place, the standardized fixity of persona remains relatively solid throughout the tradition. To simplify, dragons are not defined by their shapes but by their prowess (their function and meaning). Dragons symbolize many things in this world (turn to page 83 for Dragon Symbolism for details), but after the war, they have been heavily dejected. In small pockets, are dragons even seen as living creatures, though it is rare for them to have such images. Within society, Dragons are commonly sought out as slaves or weapons, though once, they were powerful beings in the mythical world, representing nature, order, and balance. Beyond their nature, dragons have an innate connection with control and chaos (described on page 230 under Appendix B for more information on theories of dragons and connectivity). Dragons whether social or political, have always held favor in this realm, but now have lost their meaning and most have lost their way. Beings of protection and strength, destruction and rage, the question very much in the hidden world of knowledge as is who is the monster: humans or dragons?]
~ R. DRAEKOS
He has always been a monster.
Collared and chained, he has never known anything other than the raw stench of death and the cold feel of steel.
A part of him wonders if this is all there is to life, and if it is, can he die now?
But he has heard from others there is more to this world than the cage he is bound to. He wants to believe them because, without that glimpse of hope that he can leave, he knows he’ll become like the mindless beasts that are born here. Deranged animals, unable to think past the next kill, the next feeding is thrown to them like dogs as they fight each other for scraps while humans watching laughing as if it is amusing. As if it is entertaining to watch dragons destroy each other to live one day longer in hell. Those dragons cannot shift anymore- they will never know the feeling of being free for they never live long enough to leave. Those dragons do not have names; however, he does. Because he was not born enclosed in wires and mesh surrounding by screaming dragons being tortured and beaten. No, he did not belong here.
When he closed his heavy eyelids, sometimes he dreamed of voices that lulled him to sleep like whispering wisps. Sometimes he saw flashes of another life, one barely within his grasp. He can almost hear someone calling to him, using the name he doesn’t even remember receiving. Then he wakes up snapping his jaws and clenching his long teeth trying to bite the air to snatch the memories up so they don’t disappear. Every year that passes, he forgets a little bit of himself. He snarls at his receding mind, afraid that one morning he’ll wake up an empty husk.
The hopelessness and disappointment quickly turn to anger as he unfurls his wings and shakes away the dirt stuck to him before curling them around his body. Blocking out the harsh rays of light, his sensitive eyes sparkle before they disappear behind cold skin. He tries to sleep to escape. Tries to remember what sleep felt like without his stomach growling as his skin sticks to his ribs. He tries to remember what the earth delt like when she embraced him as ice touched his feet and what hands felt like when they touched his skin embracing him in hushed moments. The four walls of his cage fade into oblivion as he escapes into his mind imaging a world beyond- his world.
He thinks of the snow that kissed his snout.
The air would be cold but inviting.
Somehow, that feels right. He remembers touching snow somehow.
He remembers a pale sun shining brightly above- an illusion of warmth.
He thinks of rain. He remembers that it is wet and refreshing- nothing like the cold water they hose him down with.
Instinct tells him a lot, but he can’t grasp the important pieces. He can’t seem to piece together the logistics of certain aspects of life. These abstract ideas become minuscule thoughts in the back of his head as his hopes of escaping the cage get taken away. Listening to the animalistic cries of his people around him, it becomes a tortured song in his head and he bites his wrist trying to stop the low hum in the back of his throat that wants to howl with them. It takes everything in his power not to lose himself in the monster that lingers on the surface just under the skin of his humane appearance.
Aiden Draekos wants to die.
And he knows for him to die, he has to understand why he is alive.
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