The first thing Verial felt against his cheeks was a cold and unyielding rain. It was enough to make him lift his head away from the puddle he had fallen into, to spit out the muddy water which had begun to creep into his mouth, but not enough to make him get up totally and head back into his cottage. No, he felt he couldn't muster the strength even if he had wanted to. In his daze, Verial slowly recalled what had put him in this particular situation and in response, he almost laughed. Why did he ever decide to take on a werewolf? Given the circumstances, however, Verial thought he was justified in his reasoning...


About an hour earlier...

Over the sound of booming thunder and the fall of a summer rain, Verial woke up to hear the unmistakable sound of a wolf's howl. At first he let it go; after all, it was possible the animal approaching was just a wolf and nothing more. Nevertheless, as the minutes wore on, he was starting to think otherwise. The howl had turned into a growling sound that was approaching fast in the direction of the Villa and the feet that carried it were pounding hard against the earth. Usually wolves travelled in packs, but this one was very much alone and the sound of it suggested something much larger.

Verial moved from the bed, soundly as to not wake Aursra, and dressed. With him he took his sword and daggers, headed down the steps and out the back door. He was met with darkness around him mostly, but after his eyes adjusted to the unforgiving early morning hours, he searched for the source of what was coming. From his current vantage point on the back porch, there was nothing to see. Verial stepped away from the overhang of the porch, feeling nearly submerged in water because of all the rain, and scouted the other side of his cottage.

There it was. Out of the forest clearing stood a mammoth of a creature, a towering 12 foot werewolf with a body that appeared to be sculpted of nothing but muscle and unparalleled strength. It's mouth, decorated with knife-like fangs, dripped of foam and spit as if the creature had been running really hard or was rabid. Either was an option. At Verial seeing this werewolf coming towards his home, his hand felt next to his hip for his sword. At the werewolf seeing Verial, it stopped and seemed to tilt its head curiously at the black feathered man who stood ahead. Then, it spoke with a voice that sounded as if it there was gravel in the wolf's throat.

"Where is the Redmont?"

Verial was surprised for a moment at the question, because he had not seen Maxim Redmont in well over a few months. Though Maxim had not stayed long, only lingering to return the wounded Verial to the arms of Sorvynia, Verial was guessing that this werewolf had somehow tracked Maxim's scent back to the Villa. Still that all seemed so long ago now and Verial had to wonder what ungodly sense of smell this animal contained if that was the case. Even if he had wanted to or might have considered it, Verial had no idea where Maxim was and could not give over his friend's whereabouts to the werewolf.

"He is long gone," Verial finally answered. "You are better off searching elsewhere."

This did not seem to go over well with the beast. It seemed to breathe more heavily and its face was contorted with what looked like a mixture of both anger and amusement. Then, the werewolf lifted its head, pointed ears perking upwards, having heard the sound of something else not far off. This was the sound of soft footsteps which were soon afterwards followed by the sight of a candle in his window on the second floor. In result, the werewolf's face finally rested with more jovial features and with action quicker than Verial expected, it bounded towards Verial's cottage either hoping to find Maxim there or leverage that it could use to force Verial into giving an unknown location.

Aursra. Kyrian. Mycha.

There was no way that Verial could have possibly ran quick enough to make it to the cottage before the rampaging titan; instead he grabbed his sword from his waist and like a spear, threw it as hard as he could in the wolf's direction. Right before the door of the cottage would have been ripped from its hinges, the sword landed in the wolf's side. The beast did stop in its tracks; with the sword still in its side it turned slowly at first towards Verial and then lunged, galloping to Verial.

Since he no longer had a sword, Verial braced for the moving wall that was coming towards him. He could have turned into his dragon, but he would have reacted much slower in comparison to the amazing speed of the werewolf. There was hardly anything else Verial could have done too keep himself from standing; the wolf hit with the force equivalent of four or so grizzly bears. The werewolf latched with his hands onto Verial's shoulders and held firm, talon-like claws wrapping around Verial's skin. For a brief few seconds, Verial was able to keep his feet steady, though he was literally now digging trenches into the muddy ground from being pushed backwards. Eventually, his footing faltered (it was all Verial could do to keep his legs from being broken) and Verial found himself tumbling backwards rolling a few feet across the way right into the flower bed Aursra and Mycha had carefully constructed.

There was no time to get up. The werewolf was on Verial again and had him pinned within seconds. Verial swore from the weight of the beast, he was being pummeled into the ground, that the werewolf was digging Verial a grave even as he attacked. All this time, the thing kept asking where the Redmont was. When Verial would give no answer and had only punched the werewolf in the muzzle in response, the creature whipped its head towards Verial, lips drawn backwards over bared fangs, intent on ripping a chunk out of its winged victim.

Verial's hands came upwards as the crushing jaws came down. There were very few times when it had happened, but Verial's skin and the appearance of his arms morphed. Obsidian colored scales shielded his lower arms like armor and his hands changed to claws. Verial wrapped those dragon claws around the werewolf's snout, pushing jaws that wanted to close outward. Thankfully he was able to hold the ravenous fangs at bay, though he was not so glad for the drool and spit that fell on him as a result. This was something he could deal with in comparison to what was about to happen next.

The werewolf wheeled its head back away from Verial's grip which in return made Verial's hands and skin turn to normal. Then all of a sudden, powerful feet were turning him over and those jaws came back down onto Verial's feathered wings. Fangs bore into the feathers, skin and then crushed through to bone; if one might have been present, it looked as if a mutant cat had just caught a bird and was ringing it around playfully. Unfortunately, Verial could not keep himself from shouting out and a wounded growl issued from his throat. He felt himself being lifted off the ground by his wings and then dropped into the mud again, to which his shoulder was then bitten. Again, Verial's voice parted the night air and he frantically felt around for his daggers. When he at last found them, the werewolf was back to hungrily chewing and mangling his wings again. Verial managed a fist and with as much strength as he could muster, slammed one of his daggers into the beast's side. This seemed to have a very insignificant impact on the attack and Verial's mind was now swarming with whether or not to attempt using his second, and last, dagger.

Thankfully Verial's next dagger had some effect. He managed to lodge the blade right in the middle of the wolf's eye. The wolf reared its head back howling in pain and Verial felt the pressure of the monster off of him finally. This did little to soothe Verial's mind however. There was no way his body was permitting him to move any longer; his wings were a dead weight at this point and his arms and legs shook too much if he tried. Instead, as Verial waited, the strangest thing happened. He wasn't sure why, but he heard the werewolf turn and run away, daggers and sword still stuck in it. It was then that Verial finally allowed a black void wash over him like the ocean.


Lying in the mud, Verial tried searching for that light that was in his window; odd colored eyes wandered, but he could not manage to turn them in the direction that he needed. Was it still there? Was his family okay? His mind was a fretful mess and it was slowly becoming apparent to him that not only had his wings and shoulder been brutally bitten into, but they were poisoned as well. Whatever sort of werewolf that was, it carried venom in its fangs that was crippling and paining him unlike anything he had ever felt before. Sure, it could be halted momentarily if given the right herbs, but Verial knew there was no healing it unless he tracked down the source of that venom - the werewolf. To make an antidote, he would have to find the beast that attacked him... and fast.

Usually, the poetess was a rather light sleeper, but she had been up late burning the midnight oil, consumed by some new concept she just had to write about. As was often the case when she got to writing in earnest, she had been pretty much oblivious to everything but the familiar scratching of quill on parchment and the words that were forming on the page. Eventually, though, her eyelids had become too heavy, and she had had to admit that it was time to get some sleep. She had barely made it up the stairs—rather zombie-like and not wholly aware of her surroundings—before collapsing into bed. She’d not even changed into her night clothes. She was still in the simple dress she’d been wearing that day. Nor had she remembered to snuff out the candle that she’d carried up the stairs to light her way.

It was this realization that jolted her to partial alertness no more than an hour later. “Sorry M’Love… I wasn’t really trying to burn the house down..” She mumbled as she blew out the flame, rolling over to snuggle in against Verial’s warmth. The space next to her, however, was empty.

Her exhaustion was now the farthest thing from her mind, and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she put bare feet to cold floorboards. He definitely wasn’t in the room, and while she did not have his intensified hearing, she didn’t think he was in the cottage either. That didn’t stop her from creeping to the bedroom of Kyrian and then down to the room that had been added on for her daughter. Both seemed to be resting soundly, and she breathed a slight sigh of relief.

That was short-lived, though, as she continued through the cottage to discover that she was right. Verial was definitely not inside. Of course, there was a part of her that always seemed to know where he was, but it seemed to be failing her now. She sensed that he was close, but she did not have her usual certainty. Tentatively, she moved to the door leading outside, pulling it open and making her way into the grass on still bared feet. “Verial?” Her voice just barely more than a whisper as her eyes took a moment to adjust to their surroundings.

Then, she saw it; that huddled form on the ground in the little garden that she and Mycha had lovingly worked on. That didn’t matter just now. Her feet were carrying her to him before she’d made conscious thought to do so, and it wasn’t long before she was kneeling down beside him to get a better look. Her stomach lurched at the damage that she could see—which she was sure would look even worse in better lighting. “Oh, My Love…”

"Aursra?" Verial managed to practically choke out. "There's no werewolf out here anymore?"

At first, the question might have seemed like Verial had gone mad. After all, the night was rather quiet and void of any other life besides the two of them. But upon further inspection, Aursra would find that the ground had been dug up in places by long, thick and sharp claws and that Verial's wings had also been nearly mangled by those same talons. Tooth marks were also apparent; the beast bit through Verial's clothing to his shoulder and then to those raven feathered wings. It was clear after going through all the details that there was some other force to be reckoned with that had been at work here.

Verial was perhaps almost too still and quiet for a while after his initial question. Aursra might have guessed he had blacked out again, but after a few minutes had passed, Verial was reaching out to take her hand, his fingers however rather slack around her own. Then at long last, Verial was pushing himself upward out of the mud, using Aursra for support and getting out of the dazed state he had been in.

"I'm sorry," Verial began. "I think... I ruined your garden. If you'll forgive me, I need your help getting back home."

As they would both stand, Verial managed to drape an arm around Aursra's shoulder, putting as much weight on her as he could without dragging them both down onto the ground. It was with slow hobbling steps that they managed to finally make it out of the rain and back into Verial's cottage. Each step was a pained one for Verial and most groans were smothered as he bit his lower lip to silence them.

The back door was opened quietly as to not wake and alarm either Kyrian or Mycha while the pair of Verial and Aursra shuffled into the washroom. Verial managed propping himself against the sink, using his arms for balance as Aursra went to fetch herbs and bandages from the other room. Before she could make a return, however, something odd had happened in that small amount of time.

Verial's arms, supported by hands that gripped the edge of the porcelain sink, had been shaking trying to maintain balance. But then that trembling ceased and the werewolf's poison that Verial previously felt seeping into his bloodstream began to slowly retreat. He pushed himself away from the sink with little effort and reached a hand up to bring part of his ripped shirt over his shoulder. Verial found the mirror in the washroom and turned slightly to look at the spot where the werewolf had bit him. In addition to his shoulder, the spots on his wings that had been torn and battered were now covered in obsidian colored scales. Besides some mud and dirt, the wounds looked clean for the most part.

I won't be able to keep this up for very long, said a voice that came from within Verial. It was one that Verial did not hear often, but one that he was all too familiar with. You know what needs to be done of course.

"That I do..." Verial replied rather quietly.

When Aursra would head back into the washroom, Verial was standing unexpectedly straight, as if he never was wounded in the first place. He turned his head away from the mirror to look at her and despite everything, managed to smile gently. The sudden change might have been a surprise for her; from Verial's standing, to the appearance of scales that had patched up his body, to what he was about to say next.

"Aursra," Verial began, "You will not like it, but... I'm going to need to track down that werewolf."

Oh, by the gods but he looked terrible. How, she found herself wondering, was he even conscious? There was so much blood and mud. Claw marks were everywhere; in the earth where he laid and raked all along Verial’s wings… those spectacular appendages where she had become accustomed to finding some comfort and warmth.

She was ghostly pale, for she had always been strongly affected by what she saw—whether it be some beautiful flower that she could write pretty little sonnets about or grisly sights like this one that could very well fuel her nightmares for years to come. Still, she did not panic. Hearing him manage some words seemed to be enough to bring her more fully to herself, and she grasped one of his hands, lacing her fingers through his. “Yes, I’m here…” She murmured, glancing around at the question that followed. She didn’t see anything, but just to be sure, she closed her eyes, focusing for a moment; envisioning the trail that the werewolf must have taken. Every place where a limb had snapped or claws tore into the grass and soil became more pronounced, shimmering with visible magicks. When she opened her eyes, she could see the path that the creature must have taken, and it continued on indefinitely without showing any signs that he had circled back.

“No werewolves.” She breathed a sigh of relief, trying to help Verial sit up as he started apologizing. She blinked, not quite understanding at first, but then she actually gave a short laugh. “I’ll get over it…” She managed to get him hauled to his feet, an arm going about his waist as she shouldered the bulk of his weight. They were both soaked and muddy by the time they reached the cottage, but she didn’t care.

In hushed tones as she opened and closed the door, she tried to convince him not to let her get Kyrian or his mother… someone more capable of healing him, but Verial was opposed. She flashed him a disapproving look, but she figured that it wouldn’t hurt to at least get him cleaned up a bit and do what little was within her power before worrying the others.

A naturally studious as well as maternal sort, she knew her way around the herbs and such used for general first aid. So, content that he wasn’t going to keel over before she returned, Aursra left long enough to retrieve them. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find when she returned, but a scale-mended Verial wasn’t it. He was standing straighter, and where there had previously been torn feathers, and flesh, she know saw the faint glint of obsidian that could only be scales. She stepped in closer; tentative fingers touching at the scales at his shoulder.

The words he spoke didn’t make her happy. While she didn’t say as much, the set of her jaw and the thin line that normally full lips formed into were proof enough of that. She should have been used to this. Her former husband, Verial’s own brother, had been much the same way. As a child, she had romanticized being the sweetheart of some great hero. She now knew that the reality was not nearly as romantic. More often than not, it left a poor lass like her home to carry on, trying to convince everyone else that everything was going to be fine when all she really felt was uncertainty… It meant sleepless nights of worry… It meant fighting an entirely different sort of battle on the home front.

But it meant a great deal of pride, too, in the person worth all of that waiting and worrying over because evil only triumphs when good men do nothing. And so as much as part of her wanted him to stay, she wouldn’t really want to change who he was. It was this very quality of standing up for what was right and what he believed in that had made her fall unexpectedly in love with Verial in the first place.

Besides, she sensed there was more to it than merely wanting to play the hero. That dragon within him wouldn’t be interfering, she was pretty sure, if things weren’t likely to get bad fast.

So, she took a deep breath to swallow and put on a brave face, asking simply, “What can I do?”

Curious fingers touched the scales that covered Verial's shoulder. It was odd; as tough as a dragon's scales were, Verial could still feel Aursra's fingertips brushing across his now strangely mended shoulder. And as durable as the obsidian colored scales were, as his dragon had warned him, Verial wouldn't be able to keep up this sort of protection for very long. Either he would find a cure for himself or he'd die in the search. That was a grim thought he didn't really want to share with Aursra, so he left it unspoken, though he was quite positive she was aware of the multiple endings that might surface with his quest.

His next words drew his lips into a soft, comforting smile for Aursra. Verial, in his own way, was trying to appear as positive as possible. After all, worse things had happened in his life, right? Reaching down, Verial took Aursra's free hand, covering her palm with his own.

"I need you to stay here and protect things... This cottage and those in it," Verial nodded. It was a lot to ask the poetess who only recently discovered she could create illusions. Though Verial assumed Aursra still had some doubt in her abilities, he had recently seen from her a sort of spark and inspiration to get to welcome those magical powers, instead of shun them. If she needed to protect those she loved, without a doubt, Verial had confidence Aursra could do it, even if her persona loathed the idea of fighting. "I'm not entirely sure why that werewolf was here in the first place and I don't know if it will come back, but if it tries too..."

Teeth found his lower lip for a moment as Verial thought. Was he crazy to ask her such a thing? To not only stay behind at the Villa while he went off to seek out some crazed, animalistic beast, but to protect the home front as well? Part of him wanted to desperately believe that Aursra could conjure some sort of illusion, an image, anything should enemies be drawn to the Villa. Something that would persuade any villains that the blood they sought was not where they thought it was.

Keeping guard over the Villa was not the only thing Verial was concerned about. There was a little bit of a rebellious being living in the Villa that he had to worry over. Kyrian was entering into an age where he was trying to get his foothold in life and with that, Verial's son's natural need to heal and protect others would be sure to kick in once he found out this his father had to go off. Quite like each other in many ways, Verial had a hunch Kyrian would make an attempt to head out after and help his father.

With his voice a bit lower this time, Verial continued, "And I need you to make sure, whatever you need to do, that Kyrian does not come after me. He'll want to help, but he'd be better off with you right now."

Verial's mother, Sorvynia, had convinced him to bring Kyrian along when they went on a quest to seek out Aursra's sire. In that mission, Verial was confident of a sort of outcome and it had worked out okay. In his current situation, his dragon's soul fighting to constantly kick back a virus, Verial had no idea what sort of conclusion would result.

Leaning forward, Verial kissed Aursra on the lips, savoring the taste of her mouth for a moment and weaving his fingers through her mahogany colored curls. After moving his lips away, Verial brought Aursra to him, wrapping his arms about her torso. He let his head rest against her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin and trying to retain her feeling in his memory (which was not very difficult as of late), because the next part he was dreading.

"I'm going to have to leave," Verial said. "Tonight."

There was little that the always observing Aursra missed, though there was plenty that she kept silent about. There was a set to Verial’s shoulders; a hesitation in his smile… a dozen other little things that he didn’t want her to notice but that nonetheless, she could not fail to miss. He wanted her to stay and do what she could here on the home front. She’d known this would be his answer. After all, there were children—well, one child and a lad on the cusp of manhood—who would need tending to. Still, it was not an easy thing to hear… not when she knew that there was also so much that Verial was leaving unsaid.

Her hand slid away from his shoulder to grasp his lower arm instead, and hazel eyes held his bi-colored ones in a steady gaze. “Of course.” Her voice was hushed, and there was no bitterness in her tone. Oh, there was a part of her that wanted to start asking questions. When would he leave? Why had the werewolf been here in the first place? What the hell was she supposed to tell Verial’s son or mother? In part, she wanted to rage at him, to plead with him not to go, but those things were not her way. When it really mattered, the usually quiet Aursra was able to keep a level head. Maybe it was because of all of those years observing and jotting down random observations about people, places, and things, but she had always had an uncanny way of being able to step back and see the whole picture or at least a bigger part of it than the average person.

So, as much as that frightened part of her wanted to cry and cling to him, she shoved those feelings and fears down deep. She would not make this any harder on the man than it obviously already was. She nodded as he spoke of the potential of the werewolf returning. “I’ll manage…” Illusions were her specialty, but she did have a few other tricks up her sleeve. Her magic was like a sentient thing, almost, and as she conquered her fear of becoming like her Sire, it became easier to summon and bend it to her will.

Then, he brought up the subject of Kyrian, and she flinched, leaning back against the wall nearest to her. She managed a short little laugh, though, and she was only mostly joking when she said, “Are you sure that I can’t go hunting down the werewolf instead? It sounds like the easier job.”

Soon, she found herself pressed between the wall and Verial. His lips were on hers, and she couldn’t help thinking that he was drinking in the sight, taste, feel, and smell of her not unlike a condemned man having his final meal. A shiver went through her spine, and for a moment, she was clutching at him, trying to keep him nearer for just one more second because she felt it in the depths of her soul that this was all the time for preparation and farewells that she was going to get. A man didn’t kiss a woman like that if he didn’t think there was a good chance he might never be doing it again.

But she was back to putting on her brave face, even if she couldn’t fully shutter away the desperation reflected in her eyes. Hands cupped his face, taking her opportunity to drink in the sight of him as he’d done with her. All too soon, she released him, saying, “Go, then with my blessing, Verial Akilara… My Heart… because I know you’ll be back with those who love and need you most as soon as you are able.”

It didn't seem nearly sufficient enough, those simple words, but she was only human (mostly). She could keep up this brave front only so long, and she did not trust herself to say more, save, "Hopefully, it doesn't need to be said for you to know it, but I'm one of those people I just mentioned." A sad smile; another, bittersweet kiss, and she would give him a gentle push toward the door.

Part of him couldn't help but laugh softly over Aursra's reaction to keeping Kyrian at bay. "Aursra, if I didn't think you could tackle a dragon, I wouldn't let you. I'm sure he'll make an attempt to behave."

After a farewell kiss and embrace, Verial let Aursra cradle his head in her cupped hands for a little while. In her hazel colored eyes, he could see she was trying to be encouraging and brave, though it seemed both emotions were on the verge of wavering. So, as to not haunt her any longer, Verial nodded and took a small step backwards after she released him.

"That I will, my love," Verial replied placing a small kiss on Aursra's forehead. "I will only be away for as long as I have to be, as my need for you is the same."

Verial knew it wasn't fair of him to leave Aursra like this. After all, the absence of Angelus, his missing younger brother, was still fresh in the poetess' heart. And though Verial had managed to fill that void within her, he was not so sure how ready Aursra was to be alone again. So much had happened in the past few months as well - the meeting with Aursra's father, Mycha and her adjustment to new magic which she had no knowledge of before - that Verial was ever hesitant on leaving. However, if he stayed at the Villa it would certainly do him no good; most likely he would die or turn into some sort of beast himself and unwillingly murder those around him.

In the end, the better option was for him to just leave, as Aursra both regrettably and willingly gave him a gentle push towards the back door of the cottage. He had made some sort of vow, however, that he wouldn't leave Aursra without any sort of doubt. Even if he was on his last breaths, Verial would make it back to her and either die at home or send some sort of letter saying good-bye should he start to change and no longer was able to be himself.

Without a second look backwards (knowing any additional glances would only sadden Aursra further), Verial stepped through the doorway and headed towards the stables. He suddenly became aware that even though it was raining still and the sky gray, night was starting to fade into morning. Quickly he led one of the horses out of a stall and saddled the animal up. Verial had a mind not to head out on foot or fly using his wings, as he wanted to keep as much of his own energy as possible.

The issue now was getting out of the Villa before anyone else found out. When it came to protecting loved ones, his family was partial to throwing themselves at the wolves so to speak and in this situation it really was a werewolf that Verial needed to take care of. That was something he did not want anyone's help with; the werewolf had already proved its strength and Verial had his doubts how he would even engage it a second time and live.

At long last, Verial was lifting himself onto the back of an anxious horse and heading away from the Villa. His journey began with following the tracks the werewolf had left in the mud and afterwards, Grand City to arm himself with weapons he had lost in the earlier fray.

Verial was gone, and she didn’t know how long it would be so. The man had seemed that he was worried about dealing with his son’s dragon, but it was not dragon aspect of Kyrian that she was intimidated by, it was the teenager. She remembered what Angelus and, even Verial, had been like at that age, and the task of explaining why his father was gone and why Kyrian needed to stay was not one she was looking forward to. She had tried to go back to sleep in the few hours left before daybreak, but it had been no use. So she’d sat down at the kitchen table to write instead. No surprise there. It had always been her chosen way of exorcizing her ‘demons’.

She had wound up falling to sleep in the middle of some sentence. She’d thought it’d be a good idea to rest her eyes for just a moment, but a minute become several. Still, it didn’t last terribly long because soon there was the pitter patter of little feet and the creaking of a door. The child stopped in her tracks. Her mother was always awake before she was, and there were always the delicious smells of breakfast in the making in the morning. Little Mycha was thrown off by this change in her usual schedule.

“Mama?”

With that, Aursra had been startled awake and breakfast had been started in short order. She managed a healthy dose of forced cheer, asking her daughter questions and talking about what they’d like to do for the day. She even let Mycha help stir up the batter for pancakes. The child couldn’t help but think that there was something not quite right though. Her mother sounded so different somehow… weary and sad.

"Mycha Darling, why don't you set the table?"

By the time Kyrian would make his way downstairs, there would be a stack of pancakes and bacon was sizzling. As if on cue, Mycha would realize something a bit unusual, and she would voice her innocent question as she set out three plates instead of four.

“Mama, what about Verial?”

Post originally by Character_Kyrian

He'd been awakened by the smell of his Aunt's cooking and came down stairs. He'd shared pleasantries with her and his cousin over breakfast. It'd been a very enjoyable morning truth be told. However when Aursra had asked him to stay and talk once Mycha had gone to play on the piano, Kyrian knew that things were about to come shattering down. Of course they would, life couldn't be drama-free for long could it? First it was getting Mycha, and then it was dealing with his dragon, and now this, whatever it was.

She spoke and told him about what had happened. His father was going to become a werewolf? How did that work? Would he have a wolf's body with dragon wings? Would his dragon be killed completely? His mind reeled with the possibilities. They had to help him. And of course his father told them to stay out of it. What was it with this family being so hard pressed to ask for help from one another? He hadn't done it when his dragon was bewitching him and now his father hadn't done it with this new beast inside of him.

"Maybe we can head to the library later and see if there's something there that we can find?" he'd asked. He truly had wanted to help in any way he could. Though he couldn't quite get over the nagging feeling that he needed to be there to help his father, to protect him. Which was of course ridiculous seeing as how he couldn't even control his own dragon, let alone stand against werewolves.

"Nothing is ridiculous if you want it bad enough, young sir." He wasn't sure where that though had come from but just as clear as day there it was. Suddenly he wasn't feeling well. That was the same way his dragon had spoken to him before and if he was about to fight that beast again he needed to sleep. He felt stronger in his sleep when it came to the dragons. He wasn't sure why, he did know that his father could look in on dreams, maybe that had something to do with it. Either way, he excused himself from the table and made his way back upstairs.

After his crash landing a few months ago there was very little evidence of it other then an occasional limp when his leg still hurt him. But he made his way back to his room and his bed without limping at all. Pulling the covers up over his head, he closed his eyes and focused on the part of his mind that he'd captured his dragon. He checked the chains and made sure everything was still set.

"And here I was thinking you'd realized how much you needed me and were about to let me go." the dark beast mocked him. It sounded completely different from what he'd heard before. What was going on? "I could tell you, however where's the fun in that?" The dragon spoke again. Instead of fighting with him though, Kyrian just ignored him and tried to go to sleep, he put his defenses up and made sure that he put in his ear plugs so that he didn't have to listen to the beast.

"You know if you were more gentle with him he'd probably have let you run free instead of keeping you chained up in here."

"Oh, and how's your gentle approach working for you? Have you felt the rush of the wind on your face? The cool moon or the hot sun against your scales?" At the lack of response he said much more cocky, "I didn't think so. Come back once you've spread your wings again."