Joy Pursuit: Steel Dragon [Sci-Fi Fantasy | Horror | Action]

The fading echoes of the dragon ignited the air with residual Kyyr that sent waves across the warped Ordovis coast. Rangers fell to their knees, their eyes wide as the fading violet flames gave way to the crimson glow of the shattered sky. Residual waves of energy cascaded with the remaining rain and onto the shell of a shaky Stolkglider that, against all odds, swayed under the crimson night.

"Holy faerie fuck! Did you two see that!?" Draell shouted from the Stolkglider controls. "It was a freaking DRAGON! I haven't seen one in years! Haha! They never fail to send a shiver down my spine."

The Stolkglider swayed violently, causing Lucien and Sey to crash into each other with a deep thud.

"OW! Please focus on driving!" Lucien shouted from the lower deck, his knuckles white as they held tight to the ladder that led to the cockpit.

"Sheesh, were you guys trained by Commandant Forge?" Draell said, pressing on the accelerator. "Well, whatever, you two can live a little with yours truly! I mean, come on, that display of Kyyr and the crazy-ass dragon that split the bloody sky! Doesn't it get your blood pumping!" Turbulence shook the vessel.

Sey swallowed a bubbling warmth that had crept to her throat. "S-sir p-please just focus on driving…" she mumbled, holding back her urge to paint the Stolkglider with her guts.

Lucien looked at weary Sey that nestled next to him at the base of the ladder. His eyes grew wild with rising urgency. "Sir, please, I—I think she might puke on me!"

"You'll be fine." Draell said, dismissing his words as he pulled back on the controls, sending boxes and gear flying to the back of the cargo hold.

"Please kill me…" a voice cried out amidst the crashing boxes.

Lucien pressed himself hard against the ladder, resigning himself to Draell's piloting.

"Ho?! Is that a person!" Draell shouted from above.

"Wha?" Sey muttered under her breath as she pried her eyes open, only to find herself squinting at a distant speck just past Draell's shoulder and through the windshield. "What the?"

Lucien's eyes grew wide as the figure grew closer. "SIR YOU'RE GONNA HIT IT!"

Draell let out a hearty laugh. "That was the plan!"

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Lucien cried out.

Draell's ‌eyes grew wide as the fluttering figure grew closer and closer until—White.

Within the throne of Berserkrios's mind, an endless cloudy sky rained snow on the confused young man. The snow was cold to the touch, the mild tinge of cold water dripping down his hair onto his face.

"The fuck?! The hell happened?" Berserkrios said, spinning on his feet as he looked around the endless white. "GIRA!?" he shouted into the wintry void. "Is anyone there? Vaal! K?" But there was only the biting chill that pressed against his body. "This has to be a memory…or… death?" He brushed off the snow that had stuck to his hair. "Ugh…" he grumbled under his breath.

Walking through the deep snow was nightmarish, though Berserkrios was more bothered by the uneven tracks he was leaving behind. There was a ‌deep wrongness he felt disturbing the snow. Dirtying the pleasant stillness with his jagged moves.

Prying his thoughts from his self-made irk, he found thoughts scattering through him like the eerie snowflakes. Annoying thoughts, lingering fragments of the man he used to be. Memories of fancy halls decorated with golden tapestries, luxury drinks, fine food, the sweet company of faceless nobodies. His stomach grumbled. Fuck off… he took a deep, shaky breath. "Is this hell?!" he cried out. "A joke? GOD DAMN IT! WHERE AM I? WHAT HAPPENED? Fuck…!" he kicked the snow. The low howl of the wind brushed against his red ears.

And then he appeared.

Berserkrios's light blue eyes flickered to life, his body twisting into anxious defense. He raised his hands against the black figure that clattered in the wind.

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The hell?! Berserkrios studied the figure. There was a man—his back turned, his shape towering like a withered tree in the tundra. His pale armor blackened by the emptiness surrounding him. The wind howled to life, rattling the metal, and raising wind-whipped cloth that randomly erupted from all over the armor. His armor was dusted with snow, and the landscape offered no sign they had ever stirred. Not a single mark betrayed their presence; there was only pristine white.

Berserkrios stared at the figure, the wind whistling past him, saving him from the awkward silence of the sentinel in the snow. They looked lonely, and though the armor was ominous, Berserkrios felt no threat—just an eerie sadness.

"Breathtaking!" the armored man shouted without warning, his voice grave but etched with a nostalgic sting.

"What?" Berserkrios said, shouting over the rising wind.

"The sky was fractured. Cracked like dry ice, shattered like glass, broken like me. It has to be because…" the armored man's voice was muted by the roaring wind.

"What? Can you speak the fuck up? I can't hear you over this fucking wind!" Berserkrios said, his legs pressing against the deep snow once more. "Give me a sec; let me get closer."

The figure turned to face Berserkrios. Their helmet was wolfish, angular, coming to a sharp end, and beneath it was a dark piece of cloth that hid the man's face in shadow.

"Forgive me!" The man said in a rather sad tone, "Just not myself right now, and…" The armored man stiffened, his head turning with recognition. "It's you."

Berserkrios stopped his approach. "Do…do we know each other?"

The armored man practically ripped through the deep snow, stopping an arm's length away from Berserkrios, who stumbled back in surprise.

"The me who is to be." He muttered.

Berserkrios had fallen into the cold wet snow, his face an annoyed scowl as he awkwardly fumbled trying to get up.

"Here." The armored man offered a hand.

"Thanks…" Berserkrios mumbled, accepting his hand, his body suddenly getting flung up with surprising force.

"It's like staring into a mirror…" the armored man said, the tip of his helmet uncomfortably close to Berserkrios.

"Woah! You're gonna poke my fucking eye out!" Berserkrios said, stepping back.

"Right, forgive me. I'm going blind, I think…" the figure said, lowering their head.

Berserkrios looked at him evermore confused. "Who are you?" he asked.

The figure raised his head. "Right, right—formalities, my name is Ezzeks Deired. I'm the you who was."

"Ezzeks… that name."

"It's confusing, I know, but trust me. We are in essence the same person—just at different points in our lives."

Berserkrios raised his hand, guiding it mindlessly to the armored man's face. His fingers brushed against the cloth, revealing a weathered mirror of himself. Dark circles under sunken blue eyes. His fine features pressed into a pained smile.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

Ezzeks began to tremble as blood began to drip from his nose. He stepped back, brushing the cold metal of his gauntlet against his face. "I don't have much time. So let me impart to you unwanted memories."

Berserkrios choked back questions, noticing the black cloth grow drenched in blood as Ezzeks pressed his hand against his shoulder, leaning in close as his voice grew weaker by the second.

"My name is Ezzeks the Dragon God of Heroes, and I have no quarrels with heaven or hell… But I am also Ezzeks Deired—a man—and I am dying. But you—you are my spirit; therefore, you are immortal." Ezzeks fell forward, falling into his own arms. "My flesh died long ago. I had forgotten that day—how strange, yet pleasant. Fucking unsettling," he let out a rough laugh before releasing a long, wet exhale, blood spilling steadily from behind his veil. "I'm sorry, but let me remind you of our deepest regret. So that our morals never waver again."

Berserkrios. No, Ezzeks swallowed hard as he listened to the coarse voice. The wind roared as they embraced one another; the armor falling off until the helmet rolled forward and into the snow behind the younger Ezzeks. The snow was stained red. Crimson red, like the velvet furniture of the throne. An empty throne that was falling down at increasing speed. A limp body under the crimson glow of the shattered night.

Ezzeks shot up from his slumber, his hands reaching out for control, but he wasn't alone. Other arms reached out desperately into that void.

Gira's body glided through the night sky, his eyes clamped shut as gravity dragged him down into the bioluminescent display below.

!!!

His eyes shot open, gray-black, crimson red, silver-green, gold, amber red, dreamy violet, teal-green, purple, rose gold, midnight black, silver-gray and finally light blue.

Cold lashed at Ezzeks's face, eyes tearing instantly—but his attention was completely locked onto the Stolkglider barreling towards him.

"OH SHIT!"

THUMP!