THE AWAKENING
The Divine Serpent is the ancestor of all Draconians. He is described as a winged, serpentine behemoth with antlers and a cobra-like hood. However, only three clans are His direct descendants: Dragons, Ryus, and Wyrms. The Divine Serpent sacrificed its own body to create these three original clans. The rest came about indirectly, either through mutations or the interbreeding of Dragons and Wyrms.
***
There would be rain today. Iris was certain of it; she had developed an instinct for that sort of thing. However, it was the smell of the moist air that gave the future away. That meant she would have to get to work early today, or else risk taking ill in the evening precipitation.
Iris crawled out from underneath her shelter. It was not much more than a ripped tarp stretched out over some metal rods stuck in the ground, but in Sern, that was enough to kill for, especially if it did indeed rain. Not that she ever had; Mother had raised her better than that. She was merely a thief, not a thug, let alone a killer.
Iris pulled back her messy, greasy brown hair—which only came down to her shoulders—and secured it with Mother’s hairpin. It was the only somewhat valuable item either of them had ever owned, encrusted at the tip with a tiny red jewel. Iris never left it in the shelter, partially for sentimental reasons, and partially because she feared her shelter being found and plundered.
Her ramshackle tent was tucked away behind a wall of tall rocks that helped shield her from sight. The dirt was shallow, only barely deep enough to plant the makeshift tentpoles. She was just a few yards downriver of a warehouse that sat along the harbor of the Belfry River. The building had once belonged to a shipping company, but the business had collapsed after the plague hit. Iris could have taken shelter inside the husk of a building, but she knew eventually it would get bought out by someone, and then they would give her a severe beating before driving her out, or perhaps even just kill her outright for trespassing. Street rats did not have much in the way of rights in Sern. There were too many of them, and nobody would miss her now that Mother was gone.
Iris crept through the backways that connected the warehouse and its neighboring buildings. Even though there seemed to be nobody around, she did not want to be caught off her guard. A few buildings down, signs of life appeared in Sern’s harbor. Ships from other provinces had begun to return lately. The whole region of Basile had been locked down and isolated when the plague hit. The ports dried up immediately, killing Basile’s economy just as thoroughly as the plague killed its people. Iris was not afraid of the plague, however. She had already caught it and been lucky enough to survive, though “lucky” was an unfit word to describe her. The plague had struck just before winter, but spring was approaching now, and the disease had run its course. That was why ships were returning, though many still stayed away. Iris pulled a tattered hood over her head as she dove into what little crowd there was on the harborside streets.
The port of Sern possessed an intimidating aura, even with less traffic than usual. Tall towers rising from the water dotted the shoreline, sporting massive, manned ballistae and cannons designed to hit flying targets. Vernshire—home of the Wyverns—lay just beyond the river. The pungent smell of fish was ripe in the air, and a pervasive dampness permeated this part of the city. The ice had melted recently, and water now lapped at the docks like small ocean waves. The sun never appeared during this time of year, so anything that became wet stayed that way for months until summer properly arrived.
Many impoverished citizens labored by the water—people who had no choice but work, regardless of their fears of the plague—so her ragged appearance would not immediately give her away as a street urchin. Reaching up her sleeve, Iris touched the small blade hidden there. It was not very threatening, but it was enough to cut someone’s coin purse open.
That was her grind: a quick slash with her blade, then back into the crowd she would duck before anyone could know better. Iris wished she could say she only stole from the wealthy, but in Sern, there were not enough who could be called wealthy for that to be possible. She spaced her crimes far apart, both in time and location along the river. Getting caught would probably mean death for a wretch such as herself.
Iris fled to the edges of the crowd after stealing from her first victim. It was just a handful of coins imprinted with the likeness of the Divine Serpent, but it was good enough. She was willing to be patient.
“Thief! Thief!” someone shouted.
Iris’s heart jumped into her throat. She prepared to flee immediately, but then spotted someone else desperately running through the crowd. It was another ragged soul just like herself, though male, and perhaps a little older. He looked just as thin as she was and shared her fair complexion. He was another Cockatrice-kin. Iris relaxed as the crowd pulled away from the individual. He looked around manically as he suddenly found himself out in the open.
“No! No! It wasn’t me!” he shouted.
Then an ear-piercing shriek shredded the air. Iris slapped her hands over her ears. She despised that noise. From the roof of the nearest building, a massive rooster with a scaly head, horns bent at sharp right angles, and a lizard’s tail leaped down onto the man with claws outstretched. He cried out as the bird pinned him against the pavement.
A Cockatrice, the foulest of Draconian Shifters. Basile was the land of the Cockatrices. Iris herself was kin to their kind, though too far removed from the ancient bloodlines of the Great Rooster and the Dragon clan to possess the power of transformation. If she ever slipped up, it would be her underneath those talons.
The Cockatrice held the man prone and glared daggers into everyone nearby with bulbous, suspicious eyes until three men in olive drab uniforms showed up. The bird released the man, only for him to be dragged away by the humans. The head officer of the three stayed a moment to make sure the thief’s victim got his money back, along with some extra to make sure Sern did not lose any more business than the plague had already driven away.
Everything went on as usual after that. The whole incident had lasted all of five minutes. When the officers departed with their criminal, the Cockatrice leaped back into the air and flapped its greasy molting wings until it was back on the roof where it came from. A scattering of thick gray, green, and brown feathers now floated about in the wind. Cockatrices were the worst fliers of all the airborne clans, but they could still make very short flights.
After that, Iris decided to lay low for a few hours. The coming rain was a pressing matter, but not so pressing as the possibility of being caught. She lurked in the dark corners of the harbor, underneath docks and between buildings. A Cockatrice guard keeping watch might choose to confront a suspicious idling figure, so she always kept out of their sight. The wretched beasts stood atop most buildings along the harbor. The guard was always doubled up after a public incident. Her profits would be slim today.
Iris kept a keen eye on all those who came and went through the ports of Sern. It was important not to choose any victim who looked too rich or too powerful, not that there were many of those. Choose the wrong subject, and he or she would pay off the Cockatrice guards to sweep the streets, snatching any lowlife they could find until they discovered their thief through brute force.
Iris finally settled on a man who looked like a middling-tier fabrics merchant. None of his products looked too fancy, so he should be a safe target. She would get him while he was on his way out of port, so that he would be unlikely to notice anything had been stolen from his person until he was already downriver.
Iris felt a telltale sprinkle of water against her skin, so she ventured back out into the crowd. She tried to ignore her nerves about being spotted by the Cockatrice guards. Nervousness would make her thieving hands more likely to make a mistake.
The merchant was just about to step onto the dock leading to his ship when Iris dashed by. He glanced behind himself but did not seem to realize what had happened. Iris did not stick around to see if he came to any revelations.
Rain would arrive within the hour; she was certain of it. Others around her were realizing the inevitably as well, and the streets were beginning to clear. But before taking off herself, Iris needed to buy some food. She had not eaten since dinner the previous day, though that was the usual routine for her. The incessant gnawing of intense hunger was equally familiar.
She deliberately found the food stall that looked to be getting the least business that day. It was a fish stand run by a man who frequently made little coughs and sneezes. Most people were still too wary of the plague to go anywhere near him. Iris, however, did not fear the plague and was able to patronize him. He was eager enough to take her money that he would never question where a miserable-looking street rat like herself had acquired it.
Iris bought a single large fish. It was going to be her only sustenance for the next twenty-four hours. Fish in hand, she hurried to a dock she could hide under while she cut it up. She would not risk running around the back alleys of Sern with a fish in tow. It would make her an obvious target for anyone looking to get their dinner by even less legal means than her own.
Taking out her purse-cutting knife, Iris sliced up the fish and ate its pieces raw. Nobody lived in Sern without knowing how to dice a raw fish. Mother had taught Iris how to do it, just like she had taught Iris to steal, hide, and survive.
Iris ate quickly. She still needed to be under shelter by the time the rain arrived. Just because she had withstood the plague did not mean she was immune to pneumonia. She did not have much in the way of insulation, so spending a night drenched could easily be a death sentence.
With her belly full of fish, Iris emerged from beneath the dock and ran all the way back to her shelter, stopping for nothing and no one. A few droplets dripped onto her head as she was coming around the outside of the abandoned warehouse. She had barely gotten into the cover of her pitiful tent when the proper downpour started.
As the rain beat down, Iris counted the money she had left after buying that fish. She could have spent more to fill her for longer. However, she was saving the rest. For several weeks now, she had been reserving money carefully. Mother’s last wish had been for her to escape from Basile to the southern provinces, where it was warmer, and simple kin like herself could make a better living on a farm somewhere. Somewhere where there were no Cockatrices, no big filthy cities, and no plague.
The easiest way to do that would be to travel downriver. Now that outsiders were returning to the ports of Sern, she might finally have a way out. To do so, though, she would need to pay a considerable bribe. Passenger ships were not yet allowed in or out of Sern, and even if they had been, they would probably refuse standard fare from a grubby mongrel like Iris.
Soon… she kept thinking to herself, as she had the previous night. Soon… But she did not know exactly how soon. She could not count very high, but she was certain that the money she had hoarded must be close to enough by now.
Iris curled up on the pile of rags that served as her bed. She never threw out torn or even threadbare clothing; she would just add it to the pile instead. She washed it in the river on a regular basis to keep it somewhat clean. At Mother’s workplace, they had at least had pillows in their shack. That was the only good thing about it, though.
Soon… she was still thinking as she began drifting off to an early sleep.
***
Someone kicked a pebble. It was enough to awaken Iris. She immediately bolted upright, knife already in hand. She slept with it that way.
Iris peaked out from her tent. It was the middle of the night, and it was still raining. A harsh wind had picked up, and she could hear it howling.
Someone was out there. Emerging from the fog and rain, she spotted two miserable wretches. They looked like men, and they were bone-thin and sopping wet. She could tell they were eyeing her shelter hungrily.
As much as she did not want to expose herself to the rain, Iris had to protect her pathetic shelter. With her knife in one hand and a narrow rusty pipe she had held in reserve in the other, she dashed out from the tent, yelling and flailing her weapons. The two vagabonds recoiled in surprise. Iris jabbed her small blade at them threateningly.
The two looked like they would flee, but then hesitated. They were obviously weak and unarmed, but they did still outnumber her, and she was only marginally more well-nourished than they appeared to be. They might still be able to overpower her. Neither side could tell for sure how a struggle would turn out.
One of the strangers dared to take a step forward, doing his best to look intimidating. They were both taller than her, and in truth, she was intimidated. Even if she was able to win in a brawl, she would likely be seriously injured. All her dreams of heading south would be over if she did not have the strength to get up in the morning.
Iris stood her ground and slashed at the foremost man. She managed to score the tiniest of scrapes on his arm, but it was enough. The wretch immediately pulled back several feet with an almost beastly howl. Iris took a risky step towards him and his friend. They finally wised up and fled. She sighed with relief at seeing the back of them.
Iris immediately retreated back into her tent. Now she was soaked. She did her best to dry herself off with the rags she used for a bed. She made sure to leave a few dry, so she could still have a little bit of insulation against the cold ground.
Now she would have to stay awake for the rest of the night. She would not risk those two coming back after she fell asleep. The next time, she might not wake up soon enough. To help keep herself awake, Iris began humming a tune to herself, something Mother used to sing.
It was a long, lonely night.
***
Iris was still awake at the crack of dawn. The rain had stopped, but it was still cloudy and cold. She sneezed and hoped desperately that she had not caught something overnight. If she appeared sick, it would not matter how much money she tried to bribe a ship captain with.
Having no choice but to hope for the best, Iris crawled out of her tent and stretched. She had sat upright all night to help herself stay awake, and her muscles were agonizingly sore. Fortunately, the two vagabonds from the previous night were nowhere to be seen. She went down to the edge of the river for a drink, using nothing but her hands to cup and sip the near-freezing water.
Once she finished, she found a large familiar rock and rolled it away. Underneath was a hole she had dug out several weeks ago. Inside was a coin purse, as well as a couple of silver rings she had managed to steal right off her victims’ fingers. This was her savings. She did not keep it in her shelter in case she was ever driven away—as she could have been last night—and she never kept more than necessary on her person, in case she was ever mugged, or worse.
Iris emptied her pockets of yesterday’s haul and dumped it into the coin purse. She tightened the strings, replaced the purse, and rolled the big rock back over the hole. Then she headed downstream towards the harbor streets. Business would begin soon.
Iris sneezed again on the way, and she grew more worried. It could just be a cold, but she felt a headache coming on as well. And was that a scratchy feeling in her throat? She had been so careful to stay relatively healthy and out of danger, until now.
Desperation quickly settled into her mind. If she became sick with something even somewhat serious, she was not likely to survive. There would be nobody to take care of her, and medical care came at a steep price in Sern, legal or otherwise.
Today would have to be a big haul, she decided. Today, she would mark the most profitable target she could spot. Then she would finally take her chances with her total savings and bribe her way out of Sern that very evening. She could be crossing the border to Vernshire by nightfall. The thought of it reinvigorated her, despite the symptoms she was feeling.
Iris marked her target an hour later, after careful scouting. An Amphithere-kin from upriver was bringing in a shipload of livestock. He did not look especially wealthy, but he was wearing a gold ring with an encrusted red gem. If she could steal that off him and successfully get away, then she could finally escape Sern.
Patiently, she waited for an opportune moment. The target stayed agonizingly near to his boat and his workers as the cattle were unloaded. Iris could not hope to get close enough for the steal until he mingled with the general traffic along the coastal streets. After several anxious hours of waiting for the right moment, her target finally left the immediate area near his boat. Since it was now well past noon, he was probably looking to get some lunch from the street vendors.
Iris entered the crowd to pursue him. She had to stage the hit where the crowd was the thickest to give herself the best odds of success. It was difficult tracking a man through a crowd as dense as this—especially since Iris was not very tall—but she had a lot of practice with this sort of thing.
When Iris caught up to the man, she threw herself against his legs. The man tripped, and many others nearby stumbled as well. Several people cried out. Getting trampled was a serious threat in streets this busy, and some of Iris’s indirect victims were panicking. More chaos was better for her, though. Before anyone got a proper chance to even sit up, Iris slipped the man’s ring off his hand as he was flailing around. His head was currently underneath some other man’s legs, so he was probably focused on that discomfort rather than the slight alleviation of pressure from his finger.
Iris scrambled to her feet before anyone else and barreled her way into the crowd. She had been stepped on a couple of times, and the fall had not been graceful, but it had been worth it. She retreated far away from the site of the incident, and nobody stopped her. When she thought she was far enough away from her target, she glanced down greedily at the gold ring in her hand. Finally, the crowning jewel of all her work!
She moved to toss the ring in her mouth and swallow it. It was the safest thing to do with small treasures like this. If Iris were caught, at least she would not have the ring in her immediate possession to prove her guilt.
A hand snagged her wrist before the ring touched her lips. “Now, what would a dirty pile of rags like you be doing with such a shiny trinket?” a gravelly voice growled down at her.
Iris looked up, horrified. The grinning face of an olive drab officer was staring down at her. She had made a horrible mistake. She should have shoved the ring in her mouth the moment she touched it, instead of allowing herself a moment to gawk at it in public like a fool.
No! was the only thought screeching in Iris’s mind. She could not let herself get caught now, not when she was so close!
In a desperate move, Iris went for her purse-cutting knife and slashed the guard across the hand. He staggered back in surprise, cradling his wounded hand, though it was not much of a cut. Iris immediately turned and fled, shoving the gold ring into her throat in the process. She almost gagged it back up immediately but managed to keep it down.
“Thief!” the guardsman shouted.
Iris’s heart sank as she heard the dreadful shriek of a Cockatrice from the roof of the nearest building. The crowd began to part around her.
No! I need your cover! Iris thought desperately. She made for the nearest alleyway, where a gray-and-orange Cockatrice crashed down in front of her. It was smaller than average, but it still barely fit in the tight alleyway. There was no way around it. Its gaze was murderous.
Another shriek pierced her ears. Iris did not bother looking and immediately flung herself onto the ground. Another Cockatrice’s massive talons grazed her head, slicing off a few hairs. The beast struck the ground and whipped around as if it were on skates, its talons scraping long curved marks into the pavement.
Iris instinctively backed up a few steps but was suddenly grabbed by strong human arms. She glanced up and saw the dark grin of the guardsman who had first confronted her. Blood from where she had slashed him dripped onto her shoulder. He squeezed her arm painfully until she dropped the small knife she was still holding.
“I saw you swallow that ring,” said the man. He dragged her to the edge of the street and tossed her over the side into the shallow water. He jumped in after her, with three Cockatrices looming just behind him. Iris made a feeble attempt to get back on her feet, but she was easily forced onto her back. Thankfully, the water was shallow enough that there was no risk of drowning.
“Only one quick way to get it back now,” said the guardsman holding her down. Then Iris heard the unmistakable metallic sound of the man pulling a knife from his belt.
“Please, no! I can throw it up!” she pleaded. “It’ll just take a second!”
The man shrugged indifferently. “But I got to make sure you don’t have any other rings hidden inside, don’t I?”
The Cockatrices at the edge of the raised street blocked any passersby from seeing what was about to happen. One of them jumped down into the water to hold his foot over her chest and keep her pinned. His grip was impossible to fight.
“No, please, no!” Iris cried.
The guardsman cut through the lower half of her shirt, exposing her belly. Iris’s heart pounded faster than it ever had before, threatening to burst from her chest. She futilely thrashed her legs, screaming at the top of her lungs, but no help came. One of the Cockatrices was squawking continuously to mask her cry. The guardsman squinted and chewed on his tongue thoughtfully for a moment, as if he were pondering the best spot to cut into. She watched as he raised the knife…
And suddenly, Iris was in a dark place, seemingly nowhere.
I’m dead she thought at first. It was almost a relief, though she had hoped her spirit being returned to the Divine Serpent would be a less bleak affair.
Then she noticed she was not alone. Sitting in the infinite void was a huge, scaly creature. It must have been a Draconian beast, but it was curled up and appeared to be sleeping, so she could not tell what kind. Iris approached it warily, not understanding what was happening.
The creature’s head snapped towards her. Iris gasped and held up her arms in a pitiful defense as it leaped at her with open jaws.
Suddenly, she was back under the knife of the guardsman. He had not stabbed her yet, his knife hovering tentatively in the air. His eyes were wide with shock. “What the…?” he mumbled.
Iris’s vision blurred. At first, she thought the man must have stabbed her, and she was dying for real this time. But there was no pain in her belly. Instead, the pain came from her chest and was spreading swiftly. Iris screamed again as something tore through the skin on her forehead. To her amazement, the Cockatrice holding her down released his grip and backed up a few steps. The guardsman did the same, looking astonished.
Pain exploded throughout Iris’s whole body. Her skin felt like it was boiling. She held up her hand and could not believe her eyes as blue scales erupted from her flesh, displacing her skin. She cried out as the bones in her arms snapped, and at the same time, her limbs grew long to bend in an inhuman way.
“Don’t just stand there!” she faintly heard the guardsman shout. “Get her!”
Iris’s legs broke as well. The agony was so tremendous that she almost lost consciousness. Scales erupted from her face next, and then her jaw snapped in two as it elongated, then fused itself back together in an entirely different shape. She groped out blindly with her arms, which were now several feet long. The skin between her fingers stretched out like webbing. A moment later, she realized it was not webbing, but wings.
A tail sprouted from the bottom of Iris’s spine. She finally managed to rear up on her hind legs. She now seemed to be twenty feet tall and towered over the guardsman. She was even bigger than the Cockatrices, who were standing there dumbfounded.
Iris could not keep her balance on her new legs and allowed herself to fall forward and splash into the shallow water. She caught herself with her arms, which had completed their transformation into batlike wings. All that remained of her fingers were a couple of small claws at the tips, which helped her keep a grip on the riverbed. She felt her tail whipping back and forth behind her, helping her keep her balance.
The guardsman shouted at his cohorts, but his words were no longer intelligible to Iris. The Cockatrice behind her finally snapped into action, charging her with his horns, intending to gore her. Iris responded on pure instinct, spinning around and bowing her head to use her own curved horns in defense. They clashed like two quarreling bucks, with Iris proving to be stronger in the end. She twisted her head sharply, throwing the Cockatrice off balance, then grabbed him by the neck with her sharp-toothed snout and forced him into the water.
She was only vaguely aware of the whole fight. Iris did not feel like herself anymore. It was almost like everything she was seeing was not happening to her, but to someone else. Everything looked different. She was not accustomed to these eyes. She could not really think, only react.
As such, she reacted immediately with a wide swing of her tail as she noticed two more Cockatrices jumping down from the street towards her. Her swing knocked them off their feet, and she heard the guardsman cursing them out immediately afterwards. With all three of her opponents temporarily stunned, Iris’s next instinct was to escape and get as far away as possible.
She scrambled up to the street level. Dozens of citizens—who all seemed so much smaller now—were fleeing in every direction. Fleeing from her. More Cockatrices were on the way. The city was suddenly swarming with them, all coming for her.
Iris reared up on her hind legs again and spread out her wings. With her powerful haunches, she leaped into the air and flapped. She felt a fresh breeze brush across her scales as her head rose above the top of the nearest building.
Suddenly, her momentum ran out. No longer airworthy, she smashed against the side of the building and tumbled to the ground, landing on her back. Iris flailed her wings and legs, struggling to right herself. She was not accustomed to these limbs.
Cockatrices swarmed around her before she could reorient herself. With their birdlike feet and talons, they pinned her tight. She snarled at them, snapping at anyone who came too close to her face. She writhed in their grip, but it was unyielding.
Suddenly, there was a sharp jab in her neck. Iris grew numb. Her limbs slowed. Her thoughts were already gone, but now even her instincts seemed to be leaving her. She caught a glimpse of another guardsman mixed in with the Cockatrices, holding an empty syringe. Then the whole world went dark.
