The Frozen Flame

Echoes. Echoes of echoes echoing off of the black stone walls in the colossal tomb of the dragon Belthore, Bringer-of-Ashes. Echoes of water dripping from the sharp points of constant echoes. "I detested the echoes in this place at first, but over time the echoes reached to the deepest reaches of my mind. It will be strange without them. Though I feel I won't even notice their departure from my ears." A cold hearted voice sounding amused slipped from the silhouette of a man. "Now tell me, have you broken the curse on this crypt?" He was saying as he turned, his red eyes faintly glowing in the dark of the castle.

"Indeed master! I have found the way, but that is not why I have awakened Master at this time." A small voice said in almost a whisper as he backed away hesitantly from the monster.

"Out with it you knob goblin of a Bramble! I do not have another one thousand years to wait on you to tell me something that which I will most likely kill you for!" Roared Belthore.

Gravasta jumped in fear, but managed to screech out an answer. " Master! Please! No! Master said to wake him when that which has passed returns! It has!" The pitiful retch of a creature flung his arms in protest.

"Over one thousand years ago they sealed me in this castle in high hopes that I would die and be forgotten. I may have been forgotten, but I certainly have not died. They will be reminded of me, I will rule Lochrose with no mercy, those who rebel, will be killed." Belthore lashed out, narrowly missing the spineless Bramble.

"Master must follow me! For I must show him the way and not get eaten for dinner!" Gravasta ran sideways in a sort of loping manner while Belthore walked steadily behind.

Gravasta lead Belthore to a hole in the back of a fireplace. Among the rocks that littered the ground were metal tools used to open a spiraling stair case. One that spun deep under ground. The steps were slick with damp from ages of no use. Gravasta held up a hand, held tight in his hand was a magic light stone kept lit by Bramble magic. The walls were black with mold and slime, something slithered further down the stairs ahead of them. It seemed hours had passed, but for all Belthore knew it could have been days. Finally, the echoes ceased to follow them. Silence, something Belthore hadn't heard for a thousand years, but then a different sound started echoing from the bottom of the stairs, "what is that horrid noise?" Belthore couldn't remember where he had heard it before, but is sounded strangely familiar.

"Master should remember the glorious sound of the air! Air that moves, that never stays still!" Gravasta breathed deep of the fresh air, something he hadn't known his whole life.

"You are amazingly mindless. I don't know why I ever let you live." Belthore said more to himself, but Gravasta heard the warning in his voice and ran down the last steps and off into the woods. Never to be seen again.

Belthore couldn't remember how bright the sun shined, it stung his eyes as he stood in the shadowed opening. "I rather like being able to see, but it would be such a shame to get a sun burn." He said to himself. Stepping out into the sun light, his black hair grew darker, his pale skin grew paler, his eyes burned bright red, and he changed into his dragon form. It had been one thousand years he was stuck in that castle, one thousand years stuck in his human form because there wasn't enough room for him to fly.

As the tips of his wings touched the ground, he was airborn. Flying up the steep mountain side the stair case was carved in. Up to the castle that imprisoned him for so long. Belthore set fire to his tomb, and as it burned, so did the sky with the setting sun.