Remnants 49 - A Voice from the Dust

In the darkness, I heard a voice speaking to me.

It sounded like the voice of a little child.



I was different, once. I used to be strong and beautiful, and free.

Long ago, I was born from a fallen star.

I must have come from somewhere, but I knew not where. I woke in a place that was hot and unfamiliar, where the stone was broken around me. I was frightened. I knew I was alone, when I should not have been so. I was so afraid. I wept in fear. My crying caused a blizzard, and the cold was familiar, and I wasn't so afraid any more.

And then I found people. They ran away from me. They called me beast, monster, hid in their homes from me, screamed when they saw me. I couldn't understand it. I was the one who was afraid - why were they? But I soon came to understand that they feared my power, the snow my claws left. And so I ran from those people.

I ran very far. I ran to where the air was thin, the sky was close, and I was even more alone. I was so lonely.

There I watched the world turn for many seasons. I watched this world and learned to harness other powers from it. I watched storms, how the clouds would rumble and crash, and I learned to summon that lightning. I watched the heat and the burning as fires swept the land, and I learned to create that too. It was a lonely time, but I grew very strong.

I met the little creatures then, the ones who could summon the elements like I could. They did not fear me, like the little people did. I learned to speak the tongue of the little creatures. I played with them, and protected them, and they protected me. But I still longed for one who could speak with me as I truly spoke. A language from a place that was very far.

And then, one day, the prince came.

He wore a crest of spikes on his head and had wings that flapped and snapped in the wind. He said he was called Prince. He had climbed very high, to where I had hidden myself. When he looked on me, he was not afraid. And he spoke in a tongue that was familiar to me.

I called him friend.

It was a good time. Prince was my friend, in ways I could not express. We played together. I laughed. I taught him things that I knew, like how to sing, and how to cut the stones and use them, and how to watch the skies and see how the earth moved around him. Prince carried my teachings to the other little people. From where I watched, I saw them grow and change, spreading further, growing stronger, like I had. I was proud of my Prince.

But as the sun turned and turned, Prince grew old. He called himself King, then. And one day my friend came, with a little Prince with him. The little Prince became my friend too. And then a day came when the little Prince came, and the King did not.

And so this continued for many, many years. I met many Princes, and made many friends. I cherished my time with them. Sometimes, they asked for my help, and I would venture down my mountain in secret. I would fight to protect them, and I would help them rebuild. All in secret, where the other little people could not see me and fear me. I trusted my Princes, but I did not trust them.

I was happy, then. But then it came to an end.

One day my friend came, and he brought two little Princes. They were friends, and we became friends. But as the sun turned, the twin Princes grew old, and their friendship died between them. They started to fight with their words, and then with their swords, and I watched in dismay as the land beyond my mountain began to be broken. I saw different flags flying. I saw pain and hurt. I saw war and I knew that my Princes had turned against one another.

It broke my heart.

Then they came to me, my two friends, who I had once played with when they were very small. They came to me and demanded that I fight for them, to fight the other. Choose a side. Destroy one of my Princes and his people.

I knew I could not. But I loved my little Princes, and so, with great regret, I forged a weapon. A spear, with the power to rend, to split. Not to destroy, but to create anew, in pieces. And I gave it to them, and let them use it upon me.

They split from me, two.

One who bore my gift of flame, with wings of pure white. Inside him was my love of what was true, of the skies turning and the wind blowing as it ever would. Unchanging and forever. The good times I missed.

One who bore my gift of storm, with claws of jet black. In him was my honor and justice, the certainty that good must prevail. The desire to protect and to uplift. My ideals.

These two dragons were separated from me, whole and perfect, with minds and hearts of their own. They stood beside the Prince they favored. And I?

I was left alone again. I was naught but a shell. I was closer to what I was, so long ago, when I had woken in the crater of a fallen star, only now I was broken and ugly. The last gift I kept for myself was the cold and ice. My soul was broken, my sorrow the only thing remaining. But I held to it, because in that sorrow was the memory - the memory of little Princes whose hearts I had lost, of a past when I had played and sang and taught the sons of men. I kept inside of me, no hope of truth, and no courage of ideals. But I held to the love I still had for the little people and for my old friends.

I was left alone on the mountain, and I watched the world go to war all around me. I couldn't bear to watch anymore. And so I flew away, far away, back to the crater from whence I came. I crept into the darkest caves where I could not be found, where I could be alone with my memories. I knew I would never play with Princes and Kings again. I was to be alone.

The world moved on.

I don't know what happened to the twin dragons who came from me.

I slept, and slept, and slept, and the world turned ever on.

Until lightning and pain awoke me.

I fought them...why did they want to hurt me...why...

They put me in a tiny cave, they held me down, and made my whole body scream in agony. They forced me to use my power of ice. The little people had found me once again, but there were no Princes anymore. There were only cruel faces. They still feared me, and they hated me. And they still hated one another.

They made me...they made me...I had no choice...they forced me to fire my ice at that city. I watched it tear asunder. And I was weeping, and screaming, and no one could hear me.

I was born from a fallen star.

I loved my friends and was betrayed by them.

And now I am forced to bring about the end. Perhaps it is meant to be - perhaps I am meant to stand on this broken world, its destruction...perhaps I am meant to be completely alone on this world. Maybe I was sent here for this. To be alone, unloved and unheard.

No.

Not unheard.

Because you can hear me, can't you?

You...

Was I wrong?

I was wrong.

There's a little Prince after all. But you...you are a little Princess.

Will you be my friend, little Princess?

Or will you let me destroy the world?



Remnants (c) me
Pokemon (c) Pokemon

(Featuring something similar to how I think Zekrom+Reshiram+Kyurem must have been like. Plus my story on the origin of the dragons and the rise of the Unovan kingdoms.

This was fun to write. )