Eyes of Fire-Remastered

Prologue

I remember the flames.

I can remember seeing them for as far as my eyes could see. These grand columns of smoke billowing up into the night like smoky pillars that were preventing that dark, red sky from collapsing in on itself. Ash rained down like black snow, slowly falling from the sky and covering the ground, as if a hellish snow storm had blown through on hot winds fueled by the raging wildfires that surrounded the village of Skaersed. I could remember the sound the ashes made as my feet stumbled through them. It was quiet and fragile, like walking on paper thin ice that shattered from even the gentlest of breezes. I walked through the ashes as I stared at the remains of my once proud village, now nothing more than cinders. I can still smell the thick, horrid stench of burning flesh, hair, and wood- that pungent smell that never truly leaves. Not even a million of the best smelling flowers could hide the putrid smell of human flesh and hair burning away. Trees fell as the fire ignited them, their fiery leaves falling to the ground as if to signify the start of a horrid autumn. The few livestock that had managed to escape their pens watched with an emotionless expression as their fellow animals and masters were devoured by the flames' endless hunger. This was hell. So much suffering and death surrounded me and all I could do was watch in horror. This once peaceful village that filled my head with happy memories was now destroyed and seared into my brain.

And it was all its fault.

It happened when I was ten years of age. I was raised in the country of Amisocia, in a small village on the edges of the Blackwoods called Skaersed. We were nothing fancy like the Capital or the merchant city of Brendel, but it was home and that was enough. Our village square had a small market place, with the locals selling their produce or handmade goods like clothes and baskets as well as the few traveling merchants who were just passing through. North of the square was the large stone town hall, where our village Elder rested. The Elder was a kind man, but he was old and sick. Most days we would see our herbalist and simple doctors come in and out of the building, tending to the Elders' needs. I remember there were rumors among the kids that the Elder had lived for many many years, living older than our parent's parents. Surrounding the square were the homes of Skarsgard, simple houses made from cobblestone and wood, built by hand from our village masons and carpenters. Most homes were decorated with animal hides from the husbands' kills or tapestries made by the wives, a testimony to our survival and our prosperity. Of course, there were tables and chairs, beds made from feathers and wool, ovens for the kitchens and windows to watch the townspeople walk by or take a glimpse into the woods. My home was located on the very edges of the forest, built underneath a large ash tree.

I was playing in the forest when my mother and father called me for supper. My mother was kind and gentle. Her brown locks shined as the sun's embracing rays shone down on her. Her voice was quiet and sweet, and her eyes were bright blue; it was as if the sky was in her eyes. My father said I had my mother's eyes. My father was the village blacksmith, forging blades for the hunters and horseshoes for the farmers. His arms were beefy and always gleaming with sweat, and covered in coal dust. His scruffy beard would sometimes be burned by the furnaces' hot flames. The strong smell of burnt hair had filled the room, but was quickly masked by the scent of the meal that my mother had prepared for us. She had picked up a rack of lamb from the butcher and gathered some potatoes from the garden. She seasoned the potatoes with herbs and spices, and dad smoked the lamb before he had gone to work at the forge. It was one of the best meals they had prepared.

We all sat happily around the kitchen table when suddenly a large booming roar was heard from outside. We always heard an animal call from within the Blackwood Forests, like a wolf or a bear, but nothing like that. Then towns folk began screaming, screaming in fear about something. Suddenly the ground beneath us shook with such intensity, knocking the paintings and deer heads off the walls. Another deep and bellowing roar was made, this time much louder. So loud in fact we all had to cover our ears. I had never heard a roar like that, but once you hear it, you can never unhear it. It was deafening and powerful, my bones quivered and shook from the noise. Dad told us not to worry as he went for the door, but before he could take two steps, the door blew back from its hinges and a blinding light of red and orange filled the main room. Instantly, I felt the hot warmth of the orange light. Fire. Everything around us was being consumed. Our beds, chairs, everything was being incinerated at an alarming speed. My father quickly broke the window near the back of the house with his elbow and beckoned me from the table telling me to get out of here. I climbed out, but not without gashing my left forearm from elbow to wrist. I winced and cried in pain as I sprawled out on the grass, dizzy and light headed from the lack of air that had quickly been sucked out of the forest. The hot red liquid trickled from my arm and poured onto the earth, quickly being soaked up into the soil. I remembered snapping back to the reality of the situation and I hurriedly rushed forth to help my mother and father. I looked at the broken window, my father now trying to get my mother out. when suddenly a terrible groaning sound came from the remainder of our house. My parents cried for me to get away but I refused, clawing and trying to grab them from the window. My father then grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt and tossed me further away from the window and soon after the entire roof had collapsed in, the walls crumbling inwards. I picked myself back up and rushed over, the tears starting to run down my cheeks as I cried for them to say something, to tell me that they were okay. I moved a large chunk of stone as best as I could, froze, and then began to sob. There, laying at the edge of the burning rubble, was my mother and father's hands reaching out toward me.

There was nothing I could do to help my mother and father as the roof collapsed. As young as I was, no child that young should have witnessed their parents' death. I fell to the hot earth on my knees in front of their fallen bodies and wept. My tears ran down my face, drying quickly as the fire raged on. I grabbed their hands and held them tightly, crying as I watched my house burn along with my parents inside. My mind raced on how this could have happened, until I heard that same booming roar from earlier

I turned around, looking in horror at what monstrosity was in front of me

It stood tall and prideful on its four scaly legs, standing as tall as the large oak trees in the forest, making it seem as if they were only shrubs compared to it. It snaked through the village with its elongated body, marching through houses with its four muscular legs, crushing the wood and stone beneath it. The creature reared its head back, and an orange glow formed deep in its throat. With great suddenty, It brought its neck down low to the ground and let forth a blast of fire from its mouth and shot forth toward the village center, setting everything in its path on fire. Its fiery red scales glistened like polished rubies by the luminous glow of its own destructive flames. I watched in horror as I saw its sharp teeth pierce one of Farmer Derryl's cow flesh with no struggle and lift it high off the ground and devour it whole. I watched as I saw the dragon quickly lunge its head forward and pick up a stranger from the ground. The man screamed in pain, his lower half trapped between its teeth. I could see from a distance one tooth was pierced through his pelvis, now bloody and destroyed. The beast took a powerful bite, and I saw the top half of the stranger fall and hit the ground, making a sickening wet splash. The people ran in horror trying to escape death, but many were unsuccessful. It continued to pick off innocent people and devour them. Men. Women. Children. Animals. The beast did not care for whom it devoured, they were all the same in its eyes- food.

This was a glimpse of hell on earth and I watched it with my own eyes.

After there was nothing else to burn and it seemed to satisfy its hunger, it bellowed another roar louder than any clap of thunder. I covered my ears and held them tight, trying to drown out the hideous roar. The beast then unfurled its large leathery wings and began to start flapping them, preparing to take off. With a final and powerful thrust of its wing, it gave way a large gust of hot wind and flew into the sky. The gust of wind was powerful enough the fire around it extinguished almost immediately, leaving only hot embers and ash. I watched as the beast flew off, leaving my once peaceful village in ruins. I could see its bright, golden eyes shimmer by the light of the fire as it flew away into the night sky.

Of my village, I was one of the lucky few to make it out alive. We were found the next day by the neighboring city of Gaerth and brought reinforcements and aid. Our wounds were tended to and were given food and supplies. Gaerth guardsmen had asked us what had happened and we all gave them our stories and what we experienced. After listening in to each villager give their side of the story, I had learned only then what had attacked our village.

A dragon. I had only heard a small handful of stories about dragons and how they had lived long ago but most were taken out by heroes of old. They used to cause so much destruction and death that they had to be dealt with, so the heroes of old had taken up their arms and hunted down and forced many other dragons into hiding. For centuries, no one had seen a dragon take to the skies since, until that day.

The people from Gaerth led us into a wagon, telling us that they could take us in for the time being or for as long as we needed. Many of us were distraught and broken, left now with nothing to tie us to this world. The few children who survived were now orphans, and others had lost many loved ones and friends. Many cried silently on our way to Gaerth, but my tears had run dry and I sat there, numb. My family had been trapped inside of a burning tinder box that was once our home, but they sacrificed their own lives in order for me to live. The memories of the dying screams and the image of my mother and father's lifeless hands reaching out towards me had fueled my nightmares for so many years now. So many people died that night. I felt that I could have done something, but what caused the great inferno was beyond my capabilities to control.

No. I couldn't do anything to stop it.

The thought of seeing the dragon once more terrified me to the core.

My name is Arathorn Baelfire, and I am alone.