|Quest for Self (standard:fantasy, 637 words)|
|Author: Salamander||Added: Oct 04 2000||Views/Reads: 2116/3||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Another Canor and Silvire story, this time focusing on Silvire... A little odd, blast me all you want...|
“Dragon: A mythical creature that is supposed to be reptile in nature. Dragon appearance varies dramatically with different claims.” The boy finished reading, and turned towards the large serpent behind him. “Will that be all?” “Look up Wyrm,” hissed Silvire. “And be quick about. Too much longer and people will notice.” “I’m surprised they haven’t already.” The boy was clearly scared, but handling the situation well. The snake only snarled in reply, and the boy quickly flipped to W in the dictionary. “Wyrm: A long, snakelike creature that is a reptile. These creatures frequently attack villages and feast on human flesh.” “A Wyrm...no, that’s not it...” Silvire hissed softly, praying that no one would notice him and attack. “Look up Wyvern! Quickly!” The boy laughed. “I can tell you all about them. They’re Wyrms with wings, and you’re obviously not one.” Silvire glared at the boy, but did nothing. He slithered away, muttering bitterly as he went. What was he? It was driving him mad! At first, Silvire had tried to find out information in Delquin, one of the great mixed cities. Animals, men, and combinations lived in harmony there. He was not completely rejected, but looked upon with disgust, and gained nothing useful there. He had then inquired instead of “What am I,” “Am I a ____?” No useful results had come. This was the breaking point. Why was he rejected everywhere? Because he was a reptile? Because he didn’t walk like a “normal person”? Silvire stopped at the town’s lake. It was calm and still, except for the faint ripples caused by Silvire’s breathing. The Gifted, that’s what they were. All those two-leggers and four-leggers. They complained about everything, but they had all the gifts and richness. They had soaked it all up, leaving Silvire with nothing. Or maybe they just got there first, and were hard at work repelling him. Silvire was rejected. Among animals, he was feared because he was a giant. Among men, he was a monster. Among animal Kin, he was only a large animal. His last hope had been the ranks of monsters, the ones that ripped apart children in the night. At least it was a life. Did Silvire care if humans died? No. The Gifted deserved punishment for their sins, and the monsters delivered it. They would die until they had paid fully. What was it to Silvire if they died? He deserved the hoarded gifts of acceptance! An empty path was the only one where Silvire could walk. He turned and stared at the small schoolhouse. Children played. They laughed and sang. Danced around, happily, smiling, looking forward to happy futures. Silvire was left apart. Outcast. That was it, he was an outcast! The place where others could dump all their built up fears and petty angers. He wasn’t one of them, so he wasn’t anything, was he? Oh, he was something, all right! He was alive! He was there! He was a nightmare. The word came suddenly came to mind, and Silvire smiled coldly. That was the only word that could define him. Something that should only come in dreams. But this nightmare had been ignored for too long. Silvire was death. Silvire was justice. Silvire was what the gods had sent to Earth, to reawaken everything! Silvire roared, and practically flew back towards the town. The children scattered, screaming. Panicking at what they saw. The boy who had helped Silvire earlier stood dumb-struck. Silvire struck and ripped his flesh apart. The boy screamed to death. A few men with swords attacked, but were thrown off by Silvire. How dare they question the hand of the Gods! Silvire devoured every last person in the village. After the bloody deed was done, Silvire looked into the lake, only to find it stained a deep red... He grinned. Tweet
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