The Birth of Ábel

Born into the world with already an assortment of enemies, yet no real enemies at all. It was those themselves that claimed to be an enemy of the young prince, but to Ábel, the only hate he held in his heart was toward himself.

Sárkánytava was known to host generations of dragons from all lands, with every child taking upon a human form to lead their subjects and participate in the affairs of neighboring kingdoms. Zomok, Peluda, Lindwyrms, Wyrverns...and many others, all mixed into one big family. But Queen Izolda, her beauty stretched farther than her scales. Rooms would go quiet the moment she entered. Eyes drew daggers. Her sly, fox demeanor carried her in court. And her heart was captured by a traveling blacksmith.

Ábel was born half-human, half-dragon. An in-between state. With seven-heads, a fat tail, and chubby cheeks, this was the man who would one day rule Sárkánytava.

Hushed voices of Izolda's subjects spoke of Ábel with fear. To be in-between was cowardly, it opened the kingdom up to danger. Fangs, claws, and horns were what kept the land together. The rulers were always beasts, and must be beasts. It was what made them such good rulers. Enemies created at his very conception. Created from foolish human beliefs.

Not all had spewed disdain for the prince, some praised the equal footing he created between subject and lord. But he was born with a sensitive heart. A pitiful ruler, blamed for every horrid harvest, dry summer, and death. His obligation was still to serve his kingdom, benefit his people, but at an early age, his disgust for people grew deep.