Dragon's Curse

Chapter 1: Awake

The fading moon light simmered through the barely draped window as the morning dew stuck to the cracked window. The dusty, cluttered room was silent with the exception of the occasional sweep of the brisk wind on the glass. Dirt swirled and spiraled in gentle gasping airways, taking in new dust particles with each slash.

The pitch black looming darkness was undisturbed as the man slept on the scratching hay. His panted breaths marked the passing of time in the changeless room. His breath stopped suddenly and the room feel silent. The dust paused to wait for the marking of time to start back up. Without notice or reason the breath blasted back, more labored this time. Seconds ticked by without moment or change. The man then started to sweat, and his face became fearful and pained. His cold cracked hands grabbed with all their might onto the under sheet.

Gasping for air he shot up reaching out to grab for his life. Dazed and confused he glanced around the once familiar room searching for the danger. Time flew with no change in atmosphere, nothing moved, and all remained silent. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes in attempt to rid himself of the memory. His breathing slowed from being panted into a slightly staggered breath. He opened his eyes once more, calm, and breathing properly. Not even closing his eyes could rid him of suspicion. He glanced around the room once more, scouting for danger. His eyes finally reverted over to the only light source in the room.

The window was covered by a dust worn cloth with holes and tears in it. Light beams shot out each gaping hole, each beam of light revealed the swirling dust. Breathing a sigh of relief he gazed at the precious sun creeping through.

Over taken by this surreal scene his mind wondered past reality. He thought about his haunting dream. It seemed unreal and threatening. Knowing it was a dream gave no sense of comfort to him. How could something of that kind come from his dream, his imagination. It was unreal and scary. What unsettled him more was what the looming figure in his dream had said to him. What wasn't he ready for?

~

"Damnit boy, your going to be late!"

Grieff huffed out a cloud of smoke from his cigar. The cloud mixed in with the thick air of the armory. The flame of the fire's light hardly filled the room. The roar of the furnace filled the room, covered up the sound of the inhaling and exhaling of the beer-bellied man. Heat coming from the furnace caused Grieff's forehead flow with sweat.

"Humh..."

Standing up from his poorly made chair he groaned and let out another puff of gray pipe smoke.

If hes going to be late on a day like this... He let out a deep rumbling laugh. Heh, hes doomed for failure for the rest of his life any ways. What will one accomplished deed do to the inevitable.

~

Marcus's eyes glanced around the room in a case till they shutter to a close. Within a matter of moments his breath deepened until he let out a hardy sigh.

Shooting out of bed he heard a shrieking sound from the room below.

No, not Grieff. Not again. Not today. Not today of all days!

With one last groan, and mental note of the comfort of his bed, he rolled out of bed. Splashing the still water from the wood bowl to his sweaty face, he glanced into the cracking mirror hanging on the wall. His wavy black hair was damp with sweat so it was plastered to his face. The tips of his shaggy hair brushed against his eyes and threatened to drip down into them .

Marcus's pale blue eyes stared back in his reflection, his pale complection was a great contrast to the layer of ash that coated his face. Squinting as a drop dripped from his nose, Marcus let out a sigh. Today would be the time of change. He was meant for better. Now all he had to do was not screw up.

Slipping on a dirtied white linen shirt over his blacksmith's muscled body he headed to the door. Before heading down to the man he believed he hated above all else, he slipped on his black boots that reached nearly to his knees, then bounded down the stairs.

When he reached mid-way down the cracky old stairs a knock on the down. He stopped breathing. It was too early, wasn't it? He was frozen in place, and could barley breathe. The knocking came again, this time with more pace and annoyance. Behind that door was his chance, and his future.

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