Dragonworld: The Drive For Power

Part 9: Willpower

Willpower

At the edge of Unicorn territory, on the rundown patch of a disused road, a lone figure was sitting. Bleeding from the side, surrounded by the corpses of two men he had just killed, his mind was in contemplation.

His thoughts flashed back to the time he had passed his test of manhood. Well, passed. Technically, he had cheated, but technically he also brought back a head. So he had fulfilled the criteria.

He remembered how sitting in the boat, on the way back home, he had ruminated on how to take this. Was he a warrior now? Or wasn't he?

In the ceremony at the main Dragon clan castle, he was conferred his warrior sword. Etched on it, were the markings of a dragon. Only real warriors, ones who had passed all the required examinations and assessments, could have one.

He got it. Thus, he was a warrior. However, in his mind, this was always tainted. Not anymore. He had drawn blood. He had killed his attackers. He was a true warrior now. No one could dispute that. Not even his doubting mind.

Often, it is your own mind which is your greatest enemy. It creates obstacles, casts doubts, and trips you up at the worst of times. Pafe would often struggle, battling the little man inside his head, at every turn.

His greatest inner weakness had always been his self-doubt. Growing up, he would alternate between periods of confidence and crushing self-doubt. His distrust in himself, coupled with an intense feeling of loneliness, often sank him into heavy bouts of depression.

The best way to defeat the inner voices of self-doubt is to have proofs of achievement to shut them up. Pafe would often try to create these proofs, challenging himself on different tasks. Sometimes this worked in quieting down the little man inside his head. Sometimes it didn't.

There was no longer any doubt. Pafe was a warrior. He could stand with confidence and state the fact. 

"I am a warrior," he mumbled under his breath.

In his society, a warrior is at the top of the food chain. This status is earned, with sweat and blood.

It's not to be taken lightly. It's a privilege, but also a duty. As a warrior, you make a pact between yourself, your fellow warriors, and the rest of the people. You are sworn to fight, and to protect.

Pafe could finally claim this status without any doubt in his mind. His fighting prowess had earned him a place in this special class. The way he dispatched his attackers, filled him with pride.

Yet, he also found himself in a predicament. Wounded, without provisions, he was in a bad place.

He looked around. His pack, his axe, his bow and arrows, they were all gone. To his delight, he found his water bottle lying down on the road, and there were pieces of bread and some cheese scattered about. They must have fallen out of the pack as the robbers grabbed it.

Pafe forced himself up, and collected all the things he could find. Making a rudimentary sack out of his torn up coat, he put them all inside, and slung it over his shoulder.

His body was in tatters, bleeding, hurting all over, it was barely functional. It was his mind that was pushing him on. He has to continue. There are no other options. He must make it out.

He started walking. Shuffling his feet, he resembled a walking corpse more than a man. With each step, his brain got more hazy. The pain in his side grew worse. The torture was overwhelming. A sudden pinch in the back shot up an agonizing burn up and down his leg, which then completely enveloped his body.  

Unable to move, Pafe collapsed to the ground. Every fiber of his body seemed to be protesting against the strain it was being pulled through. The world blurred around him as he clutched at his side, fingers digging into the soil as if anchoring himself against the waves of torment.

He lay there for what seemed like forever. The body was telling him, he was done for. Yet, somehow his mind kept telling him otherwise. It wasn't over yet. 

It took time, but he managed to sit up. That was as much as he could do for now. There wasn't any more energy left in the tank. He sat there for hours, unable to move at all.

It's within situations like this when a person starts questioning their purpose in life. Pafe had no idea where he was going. He had thought he knew, but reality kept hitting him on the head.

Was it really worth it leaving the comforts of his home castle in order to set out on a road unknown? There was no way of knowing what lay beyond the horizon.

Pafe's thoughts wandered back to the warm fire in his room. How wonderful it was to lay under the blankets. Even in the dead of winter, he felt a sense of security. The cold on the outside would never get him.

In the present moment, the situation could not be more different. No fire. No blankets. Not even much in the way of food.

He had no idea whether he would live to see another day. Was his soul passing onto the afterlife? If so, what would he find there? Would his deeds promote him to a place among the gods in the Crystal City? Or would he burn in the eternal pits of the underworld?

Self-doubt, his perpetual nemesis, kept creeping up on him. He wasn't really worthy of anything. What a useless waste of space. What gods would ever let him walk among them?

His one good eye closed on him. His inner world plunged into a sea of darkness. His inner eye could see nothing, but black. It's as if his internal shadow had completely swallowed him up.

He felt so alone. He had no idea where he was. He was far away from anyone he had ever known. Even despite the fact no one had ever paid any attention to him, it was always comforting to be surrounded by the familiar.

This unknown place gave him a sense of dread. Surrounded by trees, close to grassy clearings, the image was foreboding. He was reminded of an ancient saying. If a tree fell in the forest and there was no one around to hear it, would it make a sound?

Pafe was there. There was nobody else around. Was he making a sound. Or was he imagining everything. There was no way of knowing. 

It was the perfect place for the Grim Reaper to come in and scoop him up. So far, he had escaped him, but maybe this time the luck had run out. Everything seemed to be shutting down. His breathing got heavy. His heart pounded slowly, as if preparing for the inevitable.

What a sorry sight he must be, the young man thought to himself. A broken, bloodied, one-eyed monster, sitting there, almost lifeless. And to think he had once fancied himself a dragon. Back in the past, he had even entertained the idea of finding the shape-shifting power his ancestors had. The power to go between human and dragon form. 

The elders were right. There was no dragon blood in him. Had he been born with the magic liquid, he would have never ended up like this. It gave strength. It healed. He had none of that. He was no dragon.

Probably not even a lizard. Any living creature in the world had more worth than him. He felt so useless. Maybe he did deserve this fate. Maybe it had been pre-ordained right from the beginning. 

Then, a mental slap woke him up from his slumber. His mind once again started taking over. At one particular moment, Pafe felt a sudden sting of revulsion towards his predicament. He told himself enough was enough. It was either now or never. 

Gritting his teeth, determination etched into the lines of his face, he raised his body from the ground. The act was a defiance against the pain that clung to him like a relentless shadow. Through the force of sheer willpower, he stood back up to his feet.

There was only one thought in his head now: Get out.

He continued walking. Keeping his head low, Pafe focused on pushing through. He didn't know where he was, or whether it was night or day. He just kept on walking.

As he was putting one foot in front of the other, the scenery around him began changing. The forest gave way to shrubs, then the shrublands started slowly giving way to grass.

At a point, after having marched on for what seemed like an eternity, Pafe finally stopped. He looked in front and took in the scene. Only grass. He was gazing upon an endless field of grass stretching out towards the horizon.

He was out of Unicorn clan territory. He had made it onto the Forever Grass.