The Last Primal

As Vyndridolth, the surviving self-exiled guardian of yore reminisced and spoke, memories of a long lost past have emerged, resurfaced in her mind.

Vivid images and memories of a time, when everything was still fine and they lived in blissful ignorance, unaware of their elder brother's dealings in the darkness. They had no idea -nor could they have probably done anything even if they had learned of it-, that their leader, their beloved elder brother, the proud Ancient Dragon Kyldrath have secretly long since cast away all of his honor… and for what? Some measly gains? Control over the World's Essence, it's Core?

Still, though she knew of how the events played out; Vyndridolth was there right in the thick of it, she could still not fully understand the seemingly senseless, pointless decision and dark path Kyldrath have taken.

The day when the skies turned dark, and portals glimmering with the ominous intent of the eternal void of another plane have cast their mystical shadows was something she would never be able to forget.

It was the day of the end. At the same time, it was the first day of a new beginning, the start of an apocalyptic era, where everything that one once held precious was changed. The massive wealth of those greedy gold grubbers, the nobles of the various races and societies as well as the scrupulous merchants have instantly gone to waste.

The 'golden castles' and lavish manors were reduced to the exact same pile of rubble as every other building in every other city. Suddenly, one's arrogance and pride meant nothing.

In the face of the endless tide, the demonic plague that was unleashed on that fateful day the things that really mattered have shifted greatly. Those wealthy merchants suddenly became worthless. Powerless, weak with the same self-righteous attitude as before, only more agitated, frightened, and probably scared, whilst those slaves, guards, warriors they had employed for their protection and amusement suddenly grew by a great deal.

They became the paramount existences, the new Zenith of the reforming, chaotic societal ladder.

As a twist of fate, they have also become the blade, the weapon for the true end. Their freedom regained, most of them took the chance not to escape but take that long pampered dream of theirs and took their vengeance upon those that once lorded, commanded them.

Yet, at the same time, there were those that truly held power, not just wealth. In the blink of an eye, they suddenly became overlords, claiming massive territories, subjugating people and races without any limit to their actions.

At first, the guardians took no action and merely watched as everything played down from behind the mystical curtain, looking down with a mixture of sorrow, regret, and confusion as to what was happening.

They tried reaching out to their most loyal followers only to find that their connection was suddenly severed. Whatever happened to the world, separated them from it at the same time.

With their connection broken, these loyal followers suddenly found themselves without their divine leader, they became like a herd of hapless sheep. Prime prey for the hungry predator lurking beneath the 'bushes'…

Kyldrath's first action after unleashing the end was to kill every last one of these loyal followers. Before his brothers and sisters could penetrate the blockage and force themselves down, he had already culled all of their followers, stealing them from their source of power, the Faith of their worshipers.

With their source of divinity curbed, the ensuing battle was already a done deal. Its predictable outcome was but a foregone conclusion. The guardians could only helplessly watch as their elder brother, the very being that they have all looked up to and relied upon have mercilessly struck down and ended each and every one of them.

With tears in her eyes and confusion about the reasons, Vyndridolth watched as the massive ebony claws struck down, ending her millennial journey with an expressionless, insipid expression on Kyldrath's elongated, draconic face.

Yet, her journey somehow did not end there.

Maybe it was a mistake on his brother's newfound cruel path, or it was just simply overlooked but unlike with the rest of her brothers, Vyndridolth's soul was not pushed into the afterlife and cast into the cycle of reincarnation. No, it was left lingering there, still attached to this very world, this planar existence, almost as if it was her just torment.

Maybe there was another reason for it. After all, Kyldrath should have been aware of the peculiarities of innate powers and the very nature of her Divinity. After all, she wasn't titled as the 'Eternal One' for no obvious reason…

Vyndridolth herself wasn't sure how much time had passed before she found herself floating in the aftermath of the massive bloodbath floating in a shapeless, formless spiritual body.

She was reduced to a mere soul, a sliver of that, almost completely devoid of her powers, leaving her at the very bottom. Still she survived, she was left behind.

At first, she didn't know what to do. Looking over the endless ocean of blood and guts that littered the realm forever her senses could take her… she was struck with grief and sorrow. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she could not shed tears, she could not ease the pain she was being struck with.

She could only look at the dead carcasses, mutilated bodies that covered the world from end to end.

…

The Dark Shadow Leader, Vyndridolth shed a tear as she recalled the events. She took a pause in her briefing, as the memories were still too immense, too hard to withstand all at once.

Even after so many years, it seemed that the pain never lessened, but remained. A needle stuck in the wound, not allowing it to heal; her agony, her confusion never allowed these pains to lessen.

To this day, no matter how much she investigated, she searched for clues, Vyndridolth could not completely understand the truth behind that day. Why did her elder brother do what he did? Why did he attack them, his own family? What did he gain in the end? Why did he himself twist the tales and sewed the myth of him being the traitor, making himself the paramount of evil, the very creature that needed to be struck down before everything could start to finally heal?

Yet, as if contradicting himself he also made sure that at least one race of his own have survived. The Draconic Skink's survival and eventual exodus into this underground world, finding this massive, empty underground city… Why do so if your goal was to end everything?

To Vyndridolth, her brother's action just did not make any sense. Even after so many years…

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