TAHAROS

Taharos pulled himself from the cauldron and hurried to Kho Wren’s body. The elder cyclops’ sunken eye was halfway open and his iris was a dull gray. His flesh was full of wrinkles and showed the effects of centuires of time upon it — more than he had ever lived. The elder’s once bright and vibrant red blood runes were now dark and almost black. Taharos knelt down, his hands trembling as he stared at the elder’s body. Kho Wren’s cut hand was shriveled up and the blood on it was dry. His other hand was clenched tight around a scrap of paper. Taharos pried the note from the elder’s hand and read it with tears swelling in his eye.

Scrawled on the paper, it read —

“That dagger you’ve got feeds on life.
I’ve only got a little of it left in me.
It’s yours now. Do what I never could.
Hunt. Kill. Save us all, kid.”

Taharos wept.

He pulled his armor from the blood and stared at it before letting it hit the ground.
Reaching into the crimson liquid, he drew his mother’s blade and heard its familiar hum.

As he held the siphoning blade, Taharos’ body was overcome with a rush of energy. Yet, despite his body feeling rejuvenated, his heart felt a deep anguish at the elder’s sudden death. And in that moment, Taharos had lost his only source of comfort once more. He was now, truly, alone again. Clearing the weapons from the blood, Taharos fastened his new armor on to his body and stared at the candles beside him. Holding his hand over the flame, Taharos waited to see if its heat would begin to hurt him. Miraculously, he could not feel any heat at all. He pulled his hand back and checked for any signs of damage. There were none. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his hand and let it meet the flame.

The fire of the candle bent around his flesh, but it did not cling to it or spread. The fire could never hurt him. He held the fire to the cloth he wore and it held the same effect. He should have been happy that night, but instead he dug another grave. Burrying the closest thing he really had to a friend since his parents’ deaths, Taharos said a prayer to the fallen cyclops and promised that he would do right by him and his sacrifice. He slept within the comfort of the Cyclops’ house, then when morning struck Taharos gathered what he could and set off…

Years passed, and as the cyclopes fought off their draconic foes Taharos became stronger in the shadows with every kill. Now, he slaughtered dragons and their nests mercilessly. His acts became known as legend to the cyclopes, and one of their generals, Sahngar, would soon know the true power of the infamous Dragon Slayer.