Chapter 1

Dressed in dark robes, she kneels before the block of wood that would soon be drenched in blood; her blood.

Standing above her is a graying man holding his sword, waiting for her to place her head on the block. Though his hair is as white as snow and his face slightly covered in wrinkles, he had an air of power about him.

She met his emotionless, golden eyes with as much defiance as she could muster. When he didn't react she sighed in defeat and gently placed her neck against the block. Had she looked at him one last time, she would have seen the sorrow apparent on his features as he discreetly met the eyes of another man standing in the room.

This other man wore blue robes adorned with golden stars, and on his head was a matching pointy hat. He had a long with beard that grew wildly down his chest, and on his nose sat a pair of glasses. He did not share the golden-eyed man's powerful aura, but there was something about him, nonetheless. His eyes mirrored the other man's emotions as he nodded sadly.

Without a sound, the blade rose above their heads and then sliced through the air towards the woman's neck…

"Easy, easy… The ritual takes a lot out of you," said Morgana, the archmage of Farglow. "Just take a deep breath."

That's what I'm trying to do! I feel as though I don't even have the strength to breathe!

After somewhat of a struggle with his lungs, the newborn Dragon Slayer rose to his feet taking deep, greedy breaths of air. When he finally collected himself, he gave the brunette sorceress a look that could only be described as accusing.

"I feel as weak as a newborn kitten," he said, his voice somewhat raspy from nearly choking on his own vocal cords.

"I did warn you that would happen," Morgana said with a blank look on her face. "There is a reason why all new Dragon Slayers are called newborns." When he didn't react she added: "You will relearn the skills that you have lost rather quickly, so don't fret."

"This one seems to have some anger issues," said a hauntingly deep voice. The newborn instinctually moved into a defensive stance, then looked around. Beside him stood a semi-transparent being with black hair standing on end and a wide mouth with some missing teeth. Its arms and fingers were too long to be that of a human's, and its skin had a hue similar to a toads. In short, beside the newborn Dragon Slayer stood, or floated, a ghost.

Morgana had told him that she was conversing with a ghost when he saw her talking to herself, and that he too would be able to see spirits after the ritual. But this… thing was not what he'd imagined a ghost would look like.

Deciding to ignore that spirit, he relaxed his stance and turned to a slightly amused Morgana.

"So what now?"

"Now you must find Isobel," said Morgana, amusement still evident in her silver eyes. "She will share a gift with you. A gift almost as prominent as the dragon memories."

"What kind of gift?" asked the newborn suspiciously.

"You will see," Morgana said with a slight smile playing on her lips. "You should also make sure that you meet the veterans; Alberic, Aravir and Gawain. They know more about their trade than anyone you are likely to meet."

He gave her a look curious look before bidding her farewell. He walked away from the archmage, her ghost and the waterfall, making his way back to Farglow.

Farglow was a small, inconsequential village to most people. But for the Dragon Slayers it was a place of tradition and birth. All Dragon Slayers begin their journey in Farglow, and when they leave, they may never enter the village again. This applied to this particular newborn as well, and he couldn't be happier about it; a village as isolated as Farglow would drive him insane in no time. He was not used to the silence, nor did he enjoy it. Silence meant ambush to him, and isolated meant trapped.

This being said, he wasn't as cold as he wanted people to believe. He simply didn't trust others easily. Being an orphan can do that to a person. Look out for number one. That was a rule he quickly abandoned when he joined the Dragon Slayers as a disciple. Slayers work as a team; you look out for each other or you die, simple as that. Used to be the other way around…

The newborn's thoughts were interrupted by an armor-clad woman standing in the middle of the bridge he was about to cross. Her auburn hair was tied into two braids that went down the sides her neck. She had the silver eyes of a Slayer.

"I see you have met Morgana," she said with a smile. "That means we can proceed. Do me a favor and think of something – anything – but don't speak aloud." Her smile was unnerving.

She's pretty. If someone could convince me to stay in this pitiful village, it'd be her. His thoughts betrayed what his face did not. He was quite good at hiding his emotions, maybe a bit too good.

The woman's smile grew, and her cheeks flushed slightly.

"Thank you for the flattery, but this is not the time to flirt," she chastised half-heartedly.

When he didn't react, she furrowed her brow and looked at him for awhile. Then her eyes widened in surprise.

"You already knew of mindreading!" she said accusingly.

"I did study to become a Slayer, you know," said the newborn, the corner of his lips twitching.

"So you knew that I would read your mind?"

He nodded. Though, truth be told, he was in fact completely caught off guard by the probing of his mind. I'll have to be careful around Rhode from now on…

"Well, that saves us some time, then," the woman said, collecting herself. "My name is Isobel, by the way, and it is I who bequeath the power of mindreading to the Dragon Slayers."

"Dragon memories and mindreading… What's next? Wings?" the newborn mused then shook his head. "So, am I to receive this gift as well?"

"Of course, that is one of the reasons you are here," Isobel said. "Now stand still, and look into my eyes."

She put her hands on each side of her face and seemed to concentrating. Then, suddenly, a flash blinded the newborn, and his ears were filled with unknown voices. Soon, the voices faded and he met the calm gaze of Isobel.

"There you go. The secrets of all shall be revealed to you," she said, almost whispered. "Be aware, though. Strong minds are difficult to read and come at a cost, so you will have to work on your skill if you want to perfect this art."

With a little effort, the newborn reached out with his mind to try and read Isobel's thoughts.

~Nice try, but not even Morgana can read my mind. ~

He didn't know what he was expecting from the woman who actually gave Slayers the gift of mindreading, but the smug smile that she gave him when he realized that he was unable to read her mind made it abundantly clear that she was way out of his league.

"You should go meet with the veterans now, newborn," Isobel said superiorly. "Farewell."

The newborn just nodded and walked past her. He was barely off the bridge when Isobel shouted after him.

"Hey, what was your name?"

He turned around and gave her the same smile she had given him earlier.

"Read my mind."

With that, he went to meet the veterans.

Grasping his newly acquired sword in his right hand, the newborn felt a slight sting of disappointment. After having met with Alberic, Aravir and Gawain, he was given this blade and sent to test his skill against a few goblins in a training area.

What a disaster! The goblins fell without injuring him, but his reflexes, strength, speed and agility were so diminished compared to before his rebirth as a Slayer. He'd felt as though he was moving through mud every time he swung his sword.

"Ten years for nothing…" he muttered as he was making his way back to the zeppelin where Commander Rhode and the others were waiting for him. He knew that he had gained a lot more than he had lost in the ritual, but that didn't mean he couldn't sulk about it. However, his brooding was brought to an end when he reached the zeppelin.

He was greeted by Sepp, a fellow Slayer and operator of the Zeppelin.

"Oh there you are," he said, a bit agitated. "Hurry onboard! Everyone's waiting!"

"What's the rush?" the newborn said curiously.

"A dragon! A dragon has been spotted at Broken Valley!" Sepp's excitement was obvious. "Hurry! Everyone else is onboard! We have to leave immediately!"

No matter how hard he tried not to let the man's excitement affect him, the newborn felt his heartbeat quicken at the prospect of fighting a dragon. So, without further ado, he boarded the zeppelin.

Inside, he was met by Marius, a senior Slayer, who had removed his armor and changed into a pair of brown pants and a green tunic. The newborn never could make up his mind about him… Marius was friendly enough, and a skilled Slayer, but there was something about him that made the newborn uncomfortable. Marius smiled and patted his back. Hard.

"Congratulations, newborn!" he laughed."You are a Slayer now. Or rather, you will be soon."

The newborn nodded. From what he'd learned about becoming a Dragon Slayer, one must perform a ritual that will help channel the dragon memories. This was apparently very important, because if it was postponed too long, the newborn would become dragon wild. And if you survived that, you would spend the rest of your days in a cell, mutilating yourself. At least, that's what he'd read.

"Where's the Commander?" he asked.

Marius pointed towards the front of the zeppelin and the newborn left him to find Commander Rhode.

He found the Commander standing by a window in a room in the front of the zeppelin. She was just standing there, leaning her right shoulder on the window frame and looking out at the moving landscape. The newborn had to repress a gasp when the sun hit her. The sun's rays made her golden hair glow, giving her an almost angelic look. Her face was free of blemishes, other than a fading scar that ran from above her left eye down to her cheek. Whoever had given her the scar had nicked the blue dragon tattoo that colored the skin on her cheek and forehead. I hope she's not reading my mind…

"Are you just going to stand there, newborn?" she finally said, breaking his reverie. "Are you excited about facing a dragon?"

His face flushed slightly at having been caught staring.

"Somewhat," he shrugged. "As long as we have time for the ritual, I'm happy. I don't really feel like eating my own tongue."

She graced him with a small smile and turned towards him fully.

"I'm sure we can find something to improvise with."

There was an uncomfortable silence. The Commander seemed to be studying the newborn with her silver eyes. What she was thinking was a mystery. But does it have to be? He did have the ability to read minds…

Mentally reprimanding himself, he quickly dismissed the idea. She was the Commander of the Dragon Slayers! She would know if he prodded her mind. Instead, he cleared his throat.

"Well, I should go and have a rest," he said awkwardly. "We won't arrive in Broken Valley for a few hours anyways…"

He quickly spun around, but he thought he saw a glimpse of an amused grin on the Commander's face. Deciding it was just his imagination, the newborn moved towards the door.

"Newborn," the Commander called.

He looked back to see that she had returned to the position she'd had when he entered, looking out at the rapidly moving landscape.

"You should find a mirror," she said without looking at him. "Silver suits you."

The young Slayer stared at her dumbfounded. The fearless Commander Rhode of the Dragon Slayers had given him a compliment. Wow… Regaining his composure, he quickly left the Commander alone and soon found himself looking for a mirror. Of course, the zeppelin was created for transportation and battle, not beautification.

Eventually, he decided that even a bad reflection was better than none. So, he found a pitcher of water and gazed at his reflection. His breath got caught in his throat when he was not met by his usual brown eyes, but by a pair of almost glowing silver. His short and wild light-brown hair did fit with the silver of his eyes. He would almost go as far as to say he looked good. Well, he would if not for the one thing he had shared with the Commander before he got his new eyes; scars. Over his left eye there were there three vertical scars, from his eyebrow to his cheekbone. Whereas Commander Rhode's scar complimented her looks, it left the newborn with face that would strike fear into the heart even the most hardened thug. And with the silver eyes he looked especially fierce; like a… Dragon.

He decided to get some rest, his previous excitement forgotten and replaced by a subdued sense of… something. It was the same feeling he always got when he thought about his scars or his past; a feeling that would spread across the surface of his being, leaving the rest off him untouched. Numb? Hollow? Whatever it was, he knew – and hoped – that it would be gone when he woke up.