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Description
This was actually a request made by Werechu ([link] ) well over two years ago. I had to turn him down back then, but recently he politely requested it again, so I hardly could say no. The drawing isn’t my best; it was actually fairly simple and straightforward and was finished pretty quickly. It was writing over a writer’s block that took some sweat time though. Still, I hope you’ll enjoy it. I might get on to more drawings now.

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Peter stared intently at the flickering screen of his computer, franticly taking in any information he could dig out, little though it was. His eyes feverishly shot left to right across endless lines of text, somewhat taking on the air of a mad man. The thought crossed his mind, and had him snicker a moment. He had considered the option at length and still wasn’t all that convinced he wasn’t in fact going mad. The voice, the presence, was far too real for it not to be reality though. The other one in his head. This Wyraach-Ur. As always, thinking about him provoked a swirl of images and memories not his own, and Peter had to blink slowly to clear his vision. Wyraach-Ur was what the creature in his head called itself, and for all it seemed to speak his language, that was about as much human features Peter accredited the thing. It spoke to him often, in fragmented sentences or mad rambling, or every so often making a frightening amount of sense. Always when it spoke, Peter felt the other’s emotions wash in his own veins, and mostly it was rage. The creature had never really given a hint at an actual conversation, though recently it seemed to grow… saner. More in tune with Peter’s perception of the world, and it frightened Peter witless. He had studied the name thoroughly, ever since these visions and thoughts had begun, and had found little about that name, though what he found was frightening in its own right. Old books of the occult seemed to refer to him most often, and in a few instances he would find legends referring to similar names. Descriptions of Wyraach-Ur the dragon never varied much though, and his deeds, even when exaggerated, were always gruesome. In every instance he would be described as a dragon revelling in the most abominable acts of evil. Only once had the name been ascribed to a creature of unsurpassable beauty, but Peter considered that a fluke and had disregarded it. Another notion that always seemed to pop up wherever he looked was of Wyraach-Ur finding itself a host in order to one day return to this world in the flesh. In vivid and nigh prophetic dreams the voice had literally claimed Peter to be that person to serve as his reincarnation, had elaborated over it at length, providing plenty of details. That he was growing more coherent could very well mean the time was nearing, and Peter felt little for it.
He blocked out the voice again. He needed more information. A way short of killing himself that would spare him his gruesome fate. He could and would not be distracted. The voice stirred though, and it was difficult not to hear that thundering roar in his mind.

“This is foolish, human. We do not have time for this.” It spoke demeaning. It always did. Peter refused to reply though. “He is coming! We must prepare! He is coming! He is coming!” he rambled on.
Peter suppressed the desire to clog his ears. “I know.” He growled through clenched teeth.
The one coming was a whole new story. Little over two months ago, a hooded figure had begun appearing around Peter, stalking him with no attempt at concealing himself. Peter would be walking in the mall or be waiting in the subways, and suddenly he could feel a stare boring in to him. Turning to face the source always showed the same man coldly staring back at him; from an upper floor of the mall or from the platform across the tracks. Wyraach-Ur had always thrown a fit whenever Peter saw the other figure. The dragon would rumble dangerously in his head, all the while radiating with flexed tension. Strangely though, Peter had begun to share the dragon’s feelings. He could sense how the hooded figure would form a threat to him, and would soon decide to leap at its prey.

“We are the prey. He hunts me. No one hunts me! I hunt I hunt I hunt -”
“I know.” Peter replied louder, attempting to force the voice in silence. He focused back on the computer screen in front of him, pulling at his shirt to allow him some fresh air. The atmosphere was damp in the room. Outside night had fallen and a miserable few drops of rain fell in what was probably the herald of a storm waiting to burst. It had been a hot summer day full of sickly brown clouds defying the heat. It made for a very uncomfortable warm and moist night. Peter was sweating heavily, and it usually didn’t bother him, except when he grew nervous as he was now. The oppressive feel matched his mood all to well.
“We must kill him! Death! Blood! I want Death! Destruction!”
“I know!” Peter shouted, pressing his hands against his temple as if to squeeze the voice out.

“No you don’t.”
Peter wheeled around and leaped to his feet so fast his chair banged to the floor unnoticed. Coldly facing him from the other side of the room stood the hooded figure, his presence betraying danger. Fear gripped Peter as he edged away as far he could, instinctively creating as much distance between himself and the other man. In sharp contrast Wyraach-Ur roared and screamed, demanding the other’s blood, that he should be destroyed and that the process leading up to it be as painful as possible. Peter didn’t care for the demands of the dragon in his head though. His eyes shot towards the door, estimating how quickly he could make a run for it. The intruder stood closer, so that was hardly an option. He turned his head slightly to shoot a glance at the window. Closed. He’d have to make a powerful leap to throw himself through that glass, and he would not land softly on the pavement below, he was sure. His eyes met again with the other man. He hadn’t moved at all, still casually reclining against the wall, arms crossed in front of him, taking in Peter’s frightened looks calmly.
“How little you know.” He sounded as young as he looked. Maybe in his early twenties. About the same age as Peter. His features, from his brown hair to his likewise tinted eyes, were completely nondescript. His grey black sweater and blue jeans could have dressed any late teenager or young adult in the street.
“Who are you?” Peter managed to ask after a long stretched silence.
It was difficult to discern, but a quizzical frown seemed to cross the man’s face. “Not the question I had expected. Perhaps Wyraach-Ur has not broken through as far as I had thought. Are you growing weak, foul beast?”
The enraged growl of the monster in Peter’s head made clear who the other was addressing. Not that Peter understood any of it. “What are you going on about? Answer my question, damnit!” It was pure adrenaline that had him put up this bravado.
The other took a deep pensive breath. “What name would you prefer? In a way you could say my name is Ben, though that would only be a partial truth. But you know all about that, don’t you Wyraach-Ur?”

“He must die! Strike him down! Obey me!” Wyraach-Ur roared in his head. The thought was so powerful Peter’s arm twitched slightly in an odd convulsion, as if he had nearly lost control over its muscles.
“I wouldn’t recommend obeying just about anything he demands.” Ben said almost on top of the voice.
Peter returned a stunned look. “You can hear him?” he asked in astonishment.
“Barely. He lingers at the edge of your mind, or I would hear him more clearly.”
“No.” Peter shook his head and gave him a disbelieving chuckle. “Oh no, you are very wrong about that. This, this is not the edge of my mind. I hear him every waking hour. I feel his rage and anger flowing through me day and night. Christ! At night, when I close my eyes, I see his memories; dream his nightmares! I see the horrors he has committed! I feel the pain he has suffered and inflicted! I feel it and lavish in it! He drinks blood and wreaks destruction and I find myself wanting more of it! I go days without sleep to escape him, and then when I fall asleep, I am glad when he takes over, if only in dreams! One day he will take over my mind completely and utterly if I don’t stay alert every single conscious hour! This is not the edge of my mind! He. Is. Everywhere in me!” his words came in hoarse shouted fragments. He had forgotten about fearing the stranger. Realizing how much more he feared what lingered inside him made facing this Benjamin almost easy. But when the other suddenly let out a small mirthless laugh, it was no less unnerving.
“You fear he will take over your mind? That’s it? You really think that’s the full extend of his influence? Hahaha!” abruptly his features changed and he looked gravely serious. “You really are ignorant.” He sprang in motion so quickly Peter froze in surprise. “Ignorance is dangerous Peter. We do not have time for this.” he crossed the length of the room with a few long strides and grabbed a handful of Peter’s clothes in an iron fist. With as much force as the grip betrayed, he tossed Peter sideways to the ground hard. “Wake, Wyraach-Ur, or I will kill him here and now.”

“He will kill us! I told you! Kill him! He must die! Now! Die!”
Peter convulsed under the rage of the Dragon and added his own screams to the torrent of noise in his head. The pain and anger was all too real, his muscles contracting in spasms.
He was only vaguely aware of Benjamin reaching down to grab him by the neck and lifting up to his feet. “Stop hiding Wyraach-Ur. Show yourself!”
It was all Peter could do to beat at the arm blocking his air. His feet barely touched the ground, though he could have sworn the other man had been not taller than him. He tried to voice protest, but all he could utter where gasped sputters. Fighting both the voice in his head, his muscles not obeying his thoughts and the hand squeezing tight around his neck, he still managed to take note of Benjamin’s arm. He faintly thought it was hard to miss anyway. It could have been a lack of air causing delusion, but the arm holding him up in the air seemed to shiver and writhe as deep green scales began to cover the full length of it. If Benjamin noticed it himself, he gave no sign of surprise what so ever. He kept staring in to Peter’s eyes with that unchanging expression; cold and unrelenting, with all the feel of an avalanche grinding everything in aim of its destination.
Air began to run thin and vision began to narrow. The room seemed to turn darker. Still, the voice in his head grew all the louder. “No! I can not die again! I have waited to long already! Release me! Fight! Kill him! He must die! DIE!”
Benjamin was sent rearing back and crashed against the wall hard enough to send him bouncing back several feet before he hit the ground. It took a moment for Peter to realize what transpired. His vision came back quickly now air flooded his lungs in grateful gasps. That last word he thought had been only the dragon screaming in his mind still lingered in the room even if he couldn’t recall roaring it out loud at the top of his lungs. The painful sting in his clenched fist betrayed the punch he had given his assailant, but even in the best condition he had ever been he couldn’t possibly have send a man flying. It seemed to have made little impression though. Even if it was with a gratifying stagger in his legs, Benjamin got to his feet quick and easy enough, rubbed away a smear of blood from his lips and spat out a trickle more.
“So you do remember, Wyraach-Ur. Deep down, you recognize me, don’t you.” It wasn’t even a question with the entire mocking undertone he added to his words. He began to walk the circumference of the room in a slow deliberate pace, and instinctively Peter began to walk the room at the exact opposite point, keeping an equal wary distance. “Stop talking to him like I’m not here! And answer my question! Who are you!”
“I already gave you my name, didn’t I?” he quirked his eyebrows slightly
“Stop mocking me! Who are you really?”
“Why does it matter? Why need I answer you anyway?”
“It matters because I say it does! You won’t get anything out of me unless you give me some answers first!” the storm outside had picked up considerably, Peter noted vaguely. It added a grim background of howling wind and cascading rain. A real summer storm.
“I don’t need you, Peter. I only need Wyraach-Ur.”
The dragon roared fiercely in Peter’s head, sending stabs of pain through his skull. He couldn’t suppress a shout of pain and grabbed his head against the torrent. Benjamin didn’t interrupt his slow circle though, so neither did Peter. “Stop saying his name! He hurts!”
“You deny him Peter, which is far more dangerous then anything I could do right now. I won’t let Wyraach-Ur slumber to break free when he has regained his full strength.”
Again the name provoked roars and burning daggers in his skull, and the pain really had him scream out loud this time. “Stop it! Answer me! Who are you!” shouting in anger was all he could do not to whimper right there and then.
Benjamin replied, and his voice picked up with every word until he eventually was shouting. “I am Benjamin Norvik of the Norvik family moved her generations ago. In times gone the name has changed and shifted to Norsvik, Norsvin and even before that Norsvun. Longer still I descend from the clan Nortsun, who by that time only held legends of an age where they were named Sons of the North!” With every word spoken in proud anger, the storm outside seemed to match him. The tension in the room was nigh on tangible as the slow wheel between the two men continued.
“You! I knew it! Betrayer! Kin slayer! Filthy worm!” The dragon kicked and screamed, causing Peter to double over in pain, faltering in his step.
The voice of Benjamin droned on relentlessly though, resonating powerfully over that of the dragon. “Even the Sons of the North in their time were generations away from the people once known as the Children of the North!. A powerful people! Few but proud and strong, all direct descendants from him you so loathed! A bloodline stretching thousands of years, hundreds of generations, counting descendants innumerable! The bloodline of Aknaddin of the North! That is what I am, Wyraach-Ur! That and more! So much more!”
“Enough!” Peter screamed as he found him self kneeling on the floor, gasping for air. For once the voice in his head and his own sounded in perfect unison, if for dramatically different reasons. Peter wanted the pain in his head to stop, but Wyraach-Ur was beyond stopping now. The pain did not go away as it had before. If anything it intensified. The rage coloured Peter’s vision red.
“I know who you are, human! I know what you carry with you! I know all about your precious bloodline!” Peter recognized the voice as his own, but the words came from the dragon. No matter his pain, the terror of realizing that much would have caused him to weep if he was not so unnaturally enraged with the other man. He could barely distinct his own emotions from those of the dragon at this point. Fury boiled his blood end seared his skin. “I know all about the treaty your ancestor made with Alhron’d’Ras! He who I trusted most! He who betrayed me a thousand times over! He who betrays me and my kin now still!”
“It is you who betrayed your kin Wyraach-Ur! You who betrayed us when you sold your hart and soul to vengeance!” A firm kick in his ribs toppled Peter to his side, and from the corner of his eyes he spotted the face of Benjamin contorted in genuine anger. “I accepted the deal of Aknadinn’s son only because I knew what had become of you! I live through his bloodline, but unlike you and those who share your thoughts it is a mutual bond I’ve shared with the eldest son of every generation! A bond we’ve shared for the sole purpose of hunting down every dragon that was corrupted by your foul magic! Consumed by your despicable glorifying of blood and destruction! To hunt down all those tainted dragon souls, lingering in unsuspecting humans for so many generations! The humans we could teach to overcome the fallen dragons inside them we spared, but those who fell to the powers of the dragon we killed without hesitation, and that is what I will do to you Peter, if you do not withstand this!” Benjamin reached behind his back and seemed to draw a sword out of nowhere. Of course he comprehended the threat of the weapon, but the dragon responded to it far more ferociously then Peter would have thought logical. Not that anything still seemed logical at the time. His eyes were a haze of pained tears, blood raged red and wavering confusion. Nothing made sense at the moment. The room was barely visible. His thoughts and those of the dragon mixed and clashed at unpredictable intervals. His ears droned with mixed screams, both Wyraach-Ur’s and his own. The storm outside fought to out noise even that. His body bathed in sheer agony. He grabbed his sides as if to contain the torture. Dimly he was aware of the noise of fabric tearing, but it was a minute thought compared to the sheer struggle for survival his body was fighting. Alien sensations washed through his awareness as he came to feel unusual dents and shapes of his body, and in between waves of utter suffering, he dared to slightly open his eyes. The hands he was using to support himself were not there. Instead he saw two clawed hands rapidly growing thick with gleaming black scales. If he did not feel them as his own he would not have believed it. Another wave of pain later he glimpsed sideways as he felt strange arm like limbs stretching outwards. A glance revealed them to be wings, a thin membrane just beginning to grow between skeletal black fingers. He had no need to see the limb forcefully protruding from his lower back. The feel of the black tail was all to clear to be mistaken.
“This- Isn’t- Happening!” He half breathed, half shouted through screams of profound anguish.
“Do not deny him, Peter! Your ignorance allowed him to grow this strong already!” the metallic cold of the sword suddenly rested on Peter’s shoulder. “If you deny him now you will be lost and I will kill you! Acknowledge your enemy and fight! Fight!”
“I will not die now! I have waited to long already! Let me out now! Let me out and I will kill him!”
“Fight him, Peter! Fight! He is growing fast!”
“I must move quickly or he will kill us both! Let me out! There is no turning back!”
“Even the Soulblade can harm a dragon only so far, Peter! Fight him back now or I will kill you!”
“Give in, fool! I will take your body whether it spares your feeble mind or not!”
“Fight, Peter!”
“Give in!”
“Fight!”
Peter drowned in a torrent of pain so deep it tore apart and scorched the furthest regions of his being. He let out a cry of pain immortal, of suffering everlasting. I was all his suffering pushed in a single breath, and all the breath he had left. The end of that cry was the end of consciousness. It felt like a sweat embrace. It felt very much like dying.

Peter blinked, awake so suddenly that vision as the first thing to return to him. Even still it wasn’t the first thing to register. Hearing came first, and he heard a serene calm. No rain on the window, no voices screaming at him. Only the distant sound of traffic; even a few birds nearby. The sound of a normal morning. Only then came what he saw, and he saw light. More specifically, he saw the light of a room flooded by bright daylight. A beautiful summer day it would appear. He then noted he was staring at the room from a position lying down on the floor. He then noted his muscles were cramped, and he had been lying very badly on the wooden floorboard. His clothes were gone too, so he felt. It was a relief to see a blanket covered him. Carefully he pushed himself to a sitting position, draping the blanket around him tightly. Despite the heat, he shivered. At that point Benjamin walked in holding two mugs of coffee. Much to his own surprise, the sight of him didn’t scare Peter at all.
“Awake at last.” The other man noted with a real smile on his face! He sat down on the floorboard next to Peter, reclining comfortably against the wall as he offered one mug to Peter and sipped his own.
“Is he gone?” Peter asked him, ignoring the cup in his hands.
Benjamin savoured the flavour of coffee a few moments before looking up and replying. He even produced a second, reassuring smile. “No, not gone. He’ll never really be gone. A dragon soul doesn’t just vanish like that. Not unless I had killed you with the Soulblade, that is.” He seemed to be amused by that thought, but Peter only gave him a somewhat unsettled frown.
‘So what happens now?”
“Now? Now I teach you how to control his powers. To tame his soul, sorta speak. Given time, I might even teach you how to tame his body.” Green scales shimmered across his arms again for a moment, to disappear just as quickly. “Though that might be walking the edge slightly too closely with Wyraach-Ur.”
Peter contemplated that for a moment, staring at a distant point in the room as he took an absent sip from his coffe. “Would it be like what you and this other dragon have? This Alhron’d’Ras?” It surprised him he recalled the name, but then, he seemed to remember a whole lot of stuff about Alhron’d’Ras, Aknaddin and their shared history with Wyraach-Ur.
Benjamin shook his head, again looking amused. “No, the bond my bloodline shares with Alhron’d’Ras is very different from yours. We share a symbiotic bond; one of mutual understanding and friendship. We never interfere on each others thoughts, though we may sometimes merge in mind and sometimes even change places, where Alhron’d’Ras will assume control and I linger in the back of his mind. You will have to fight of Wyraach-Ur at every step and turn. He will try to wretch control from you at any given opportunity, and if he should ever succeed in taking both your mind and body, nothing can bring you back.” Benjamin turned a serious and at the same time sad face at Peter. “It will be a hard fight still.”
Peter gave a careful nod of understanding. “I think I’m ready.”

Description
This was actually a request made by Werechu ([link] ) well over two years ago. I had to turn him down back then, but recently he politely requested it again, so I hardly could say no. The drawing isn’t my best; it was actually fairly simple and straightforward and was finished pretty quickly. It was writing over a writer’s block that took some sweat time though. Still, I hope you’ll enjoy it. I might get on to more drawings now.

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Peter stared intently at the flickering screen of his computer, franticly taking in any information he could dig out, little though it was. His eyes feverishly shot left to right across endless lines of text, somewhat taking on the air of a mad man. The thought crossed his mind, and had him snicker a moment. He had considered the option at length and still wasn’t all that convinced he wasn’t in fact going mad. The voice, the presence, was far too real for it not to be reality though. The other one in his head. This Wyraach-Ur. As always, thinking about him provoked a swirl of images and memories not his own, and Peter had to blink slowly to clear his vision. Wyraach-Ur was what the creature in his head called itself, and for all it seemed to speak his language, that was about as much human features Peter accredited the thing. It spoke to him often, in fragmented sentences or mad rambling, or every so often making a frightening amount of sense. Always when it spoke, Peter felt the other’s emotions wash in his own veins, and mostly it was rage. The creature had never really given a hint at an actual conversation, though recently it seemed to grow… saner. More in tune with Peter’s perception of the world, and it frightened Peter witless. He had studied the name thoroughly, ever since these visions and thoughts had begun, and had found little about that name, though what he found was frightening in its own right. Old books of the occult seemed to refer to him most often, and in a few instances he would find legends referring to similar names. Descriptions of Wyraach-Ur the dragon never varied much though, and his deeds, even when exaggerated, were always gruesome. In every instance he would be described as a dragon revelling in the most abominable acts of evil. Only once had the name been ascribed to a creature of unsurpassable beauty, but Peter considered that a fluke and had disregarded it. Another notion that always seemed to pop up wherever he looked was of Wyraach-Ur finding itself a host in order to one day return to this world in the flesh. In vivid and nigh prophetic dreams the voice had literally claimed Peter to be that person to serve as his reincarnation, had elaborated over it at length, providing plenty of details. That he was growing more coherent could very well mean the time was nearing, and Peter felt little for it.
He blocked out the voice again. He needed more information. A way short of killing himself that would spare him his gruesome fate. He could and would not be distracted. The voice stirred though, and it was difficult not to hear that thundering roar in his mind.

“This is foolish, human. We do not have time for this.” It spoke demeaning. It always did. Peter refused to reply though. “He is coming! We must prepare! He is coming! He is coming!” he rambled on.
Peter suppressed the desire to clog his ears. “I know.” He growled through clenched teeth.
The one coming was a whole new story. Little over two months ago, a hooded figure had begun appearing around Peter, stalking him with no attempt at concealing himself. Peter would be walking in the mall or be waiting in the subways, and suddenly he could feel a stare boring in to him. Turning to face the source always showed the same man coldly staring back at him; from an upper floor of the mall or from the platform across the tracks. Wyraach-Ur had always thrown a fit whenever Peter saw the other figure. The dragon would rumble dangerously in his head, all the while radiating with flexed tension. Strangely though, Peter had begun to share the dragon’s feelings. He could sense how the hooded figure would form a threat to him, and would soon decide to leap at its prey.

“We are the prey. He hunts me. No one hunts me! I hunt I hunt I hunt -”
“I know.” Peter replied louder, attempting to force the voice in silence. He focused back on the computer screen in front of him, pulling at his shirt to allow him some fresh air. The atmosphere was damp in the room. Outside night had fallen and a miserable few drops of rain fell in what was probably the herald of a storm waiting to burst. It had been a hot summer day full of sickly brown clouds defying the heat. It made for a very uncomfortable warm and moist night. Peter was sweating heavily, and it usually didn’t bother him, except when he grew nervous as he was now. The oppressive feel matched his mood all to well.
“We must kill him! Death! Blood! I want Death! Destruction!”
“I know!” Peter shouted, pressing his hands against his temple as if to squeeze the voice out.

“No you don’t.”
Peter wheeled around and leaped to his feet so fast his chair banged to the floor unnoticed. Coldly facing him from the other side of the room stood the hooded figure, his presence betraying danger. Fear gripped Peter as he edged away as far he could, instinctively creating as much distance between himself and the other man. In sharp contrast Wyraach-Ur roared and screamed, demanding the other’s blood, that he should be destroyed and that the process leading up to it be as painful as possible. Peter didn’t care for the demands of the dragon in his head though. His eyes shot towards the door, estimating how quickly he could make a run for it. The intruder stood closer, so that was hardly an option. He turned his head slightly to shoot a glance at the window. Closed. He’d have to make a powerful leap to throw himself through that glass, and he would not land softly on the pavement below, he was sure. His eyes met again with the other man. He hadn’t moved at all, still casually reclining against the wall, arms crossed in front of him, taking in Peter’s frightened looks calmly.
“How little you know.” He sounded as young as he looked. Maybe in his early twenties. About the same age as Peter. His features, from his brown hair to his likewise tinted eyes, were completely nondescript. His grey black sweater and blue jeans could have dressed any late teenager or young adult in the street.
“Who are you?” Peter managed to ask after a long stretched silence.
It was difficult to discern, but a quizzical frown seemed to cross the man’s face. “Not the question I had expected. Perhaps Wyraach-Ur has not broken through as far as I had thought. Are you growing weak, foul beast?”
The enraged growl of the monster in Peter’s head made clear who the other was addressing. Not that Peter understood any of it. “What are you going on about? Answer my question, damnit!” It was pure adrenaline that had him put up this bravado.
The other took a deep pensive breath. “What name would you prefer? In a way you could say my name is Ben, though that would only be a partial truth. But you know all about that, don’t you Wyraach-Ur?”

“He must die! Strike him down! Obey me!” Wyraach-Ur roared in his head. The thought was so powerful Peter’s arm twitched slightly in an odd convulsion, as if he had nearly lost control over its muscles.
“I wouldn’t recommend obeying just about anything he demands.” Ben said almost on top of the voice.
Peter returned a stunned look. “You can hear him?” he asked in astonishment.
“Barely. He lingers at the edge of your mind, or I would hear him more clearly.”
“No.” Peter shook his head and gave him a disbelieving chuckle. “Oh no, you are very wrong about that. This, this is not the edge of my mind. I hear him every waking hour. I feel his rage and anger flowing through me day and night. Christ! At night, when I close my eyes, I see his memories; dream his nightmares! I see the horrors he has committed! I feel the pain he has suffered and inflicted! I feel it and lavish in it! He drinks blood and wreaks destruction and I find myself wanting more of it! I go days without sleep to escape him, and then when I fall asleep, I am glad when he takes over, if only in dreams! One day he will take over my mind completely and utterly if I don’t stay alert every single conscious hour! This is not the edge of my mind! He. Is. Everywhere in me!” his words came in hoarse shouted fragments. He had forgotten about fearing the stranger. Realizing how much more he feared what lingered inside him made facing this Benjamin almost easy. But when the other suddenly let out a small mirthless laugh, it was no less unnerving.
“You fear he will take over your mind? That’s it? You really think that’s the full extend of his influence? Hahaha!” abruptly his features changed and he looked gravely serious. “You really are ignorant.” He sprang in motion so quickly Peter froze in surprise. “Ignorance is dangerous Peter. We do not have time for this.” he crossed the length of the room with a few long strides and grabbed a handful of Peter’s clothes in an iron fist. With as much force as the grip betrayed, he tossed Peter sideways to the ground hard. “Wake, Wyraach-Ur, or I will kill him here and now.”

“He will kill us! I told you! Kill him! He must die! Now! Die!”
Peter convulsed under the rage of the Dragon and added his own screams to the torrent of noise in his head. The pain and anger was all too real, his muscles contracting in spasms.
He was only vaguely aware of Benjamin reaching down to grab him by the neck and lifting up to his feet. “Stop hiding Wyraach-Ur. Show yourself!”
It was all Peter could do to beat at the arm blocking his air. His feet barely touched the ground, though he could have sworn the other man had been not taller than him. He tried to voice protest, but all he could utter where gasped sputters. Fighting both the voice in his head, his muscles not obeying his thoughts and the hand squeezing tight around his neck, he still managed to take note of Benjamin’s arm. He faintly thought it was hard to miss anyway. It could have been a lack of air causing delusion, but the arm holding him up in the air seemed to shiver and writhe as deep green scales began to cover the full length of it. If Benjamin noticed it himself, he gave no sign of surprise what so ever. He kept staring in to Peter’s eyes with that unchanging expression; cold and unrelenting, with all the feel of an avalanche grinding everything in aim of its destination.
Air began to run thin and vision began to narrow. The room seemed to turn darker. Still, the voice in his head grew all the louder. “No! I can not die again! I have waited to long already! Release me! Fight! Kill him! He must die! DIE!”
Benjamin was sent rearing back and crashed against the wall hard enough to send him bouncing back several feet before he hit the ground. It took a moment for Peter to realize what transpired. His vision came back quickly now air flooded his lungs in grateful gasps. That last word he thought had been only the dragon screaming in his mind still lingered in the room even if he couldn’t recall roaring it out loud at the top of his lungs. The painful sting in his clenched fist betrayed the punch he had given his assailant, but even in the best condition he had ever been he couldn’t possibly have send a man flying. It seemed to have made little impression though. Even if it was with a gratifying stagger in his legs, Benjamin got to his feet quick and easy enough, rubbed away a smear of blood from his lips and spat out a trickle more.
“So you do remember, Wyraach-Ur. Deep down, you recognize me, don’t you.” It wasn’t even a question with the entire mocking undertone he added to his words. He began to walk the circumference of the room in a slow deliberate pace, and instinctively Peter began to walk the room at the exact opposite point, keeping an equal wary distance. “Stop talking to him like I’m not here! And answer my question! Who are you!”
“I already gave you my name, didn’t I?” he quirked his eyebrows slightly
“Stop mocking me! Who are you really?”
“Why does it matter? Why need I answer you anyway?”
“It matters because I say it does! You won’t get anything out of me unless you give me some answers first!” the storm outside had picked up considerably, Peter noted vaguely. It added a grim background of howling wind and cascading rain. A real summer storm.
“I don’t need you, Peter. I only need Wyraach-Ur.”
The dragon roared fiercely in Peter’s head, sending stabs of pain through his skull. He couldn’t suppress a shout of pain and grabbed his head against the torrent. Benjamin didn’t interrupt his slow circle though, so neither did Peter. “Stop saying his name! He hurts!”
“You deny him Peter, which is far more dangerous then anything I could do right now. I won’t let Wyraach-Ur slumber to break free when he has regained his full strength.”
Again the name provoked roars and burning daggers in his skull, and the pain really had him scream out loud this time. “Stop it! Answer me! Who are you!” shouting in anger was all he could do not to whimper right there and then.
Benjamin replied, and his voice picked up with every word until he eventually was shouting. “I am Benjamin Norvik of the Norvik family moved her generations ago. In times gone the name has changed and shifted to Norsvik, Norsvin and even before that Norsvun. Longer still I descend from the clan Nortsun, who by that time only held legends of an age where they were named Sons of the North!” With every word spoken in proud anger, the storm outside seemed to match him. The tension in the room was nigh on tangible as the slow wheel between the two men continued.
“You! I knew it! Betrayer! Kin slayer! Filthy worm!” The dragon kicked and screamed, causing Peter to double over in pain, faltering in his step.
The voice of Benjamin droned on relentlessly though, resonating powerfully over that of the dragon. “Even the Sons of the North in their time were generations away from the people once known as the Children of the North!. A powerful people! Few but proud and strong, all direct descendants from him you so loathed! A bloodline stretching thousands of years, hundreds of generations, counting descendants innumerable! The bloodline of Aknaddin of the North! That is what I am, Wyraach-Ur! That and more! So much more!”
“Enough!” Peter screamed as he found him self kneeling on the floor, gasping for air. For once the voice in his head and his own sounded in perfect unison, if for dramatically different reasons. Peter wanted the pain in his head to stop, but Wyraach-Ur was beyond stopping now. The pain did not go away as it had before. If anything it intensified. The rage coloured Peter’s vision red.
“I know who you are, human! I know what you carry with you! I know all about your precious bloodline!” Peter recognized the voice as his own, but the words came from the dragon. No matter his pain, the terror of realizing that much would have caused him to weep if he was not so unnaturally enraged with the other man. He could barely distinct his own emotions from those of the dragon at this point. Fury boiled his blood end seared his skin. “I know all about the treaty your ancestor made with Alhron’d’Ras! He who I trusted most! He who betrayed me a thousand times over! He who betrays me and my kin now still!”
“It is you who betrayed your kin Wyraach-Ur! You who betrayed us when you sold your hart and soul to vengeance!” A firm kick in his ribs toppled Peter to his side, and from the corner of his eyes he spotted the face of Benjamin contorted in genuine anger. “I accepted the deal of Aknadinn’s son only because I knew what had become of you! I live through his bloodline, but unlike you and those who share your thoughts it is a mutual bond I’ve shared with the eldest son of every generation! A bond we’ve shared for the sole purpose of hunting down every dragon that was corrupted by your foul magic! Consumed by your despicable glorifying of blood and destruction! To hunt down all those tainted dragon souls, lingering in unsuspecting humans for so many generations! The humans we could teach to overcome the fallen dragons inside them we spared, but those who fell to the powers of the dragon we killed without hesitation, and that is what I will do to you Peter, if you do not withstand this!” Benjamin reached behind his back and seemed to draw a sword out of nowhere. Of course he comprehended the threat of the weapon, but the dragon responded to it far more ferociously then Peter would have thought logical. Not that anything still seemed logical at the time. His eyes were a haze of pained tears, blood raged red and wavering confusion. Nothing made sense at the moment. The room was barely visible. His thoughts and those of the dragon mixed and clashed at unpredictable intervals. His ears droned with mixed screams, both Wyraach-Ur’s and his own. The storm outside fought to out noise even that. His body bathed in sheer agony. He grabbed his sides as if to contain the torture. Dimly he was aware of the noise of fabric tearing, but it was a minute thought compared to the sheer struggle for survival his body was fighting. Alien sensations washed through his awareness as he came to feel unusual dents and shapes of his body, and in between waves of utter suffering, he dared to slightly open his eyes. The hands he was using to support himself were not there. Instead he saw two clawed hands rapidly growing thick with gleaming black scales. If he did not feel them as his own he would not have believed it. Another wave of pain later he glimpsed sideways as he felt strange arm like limbs stretching outwards. A glance revealed them to be wings, a thin membrane just beginning to grow between skeletal black fingers. He had no need to see the limb forcefully protruding from his lower back. The feel of the black tail was all to clear to be mistaken.
“This- Isn’t- Happening!” He half breathed, half shouted through screams of profound anguish.
“Do not deny him, Peter! Your ignorance allowed him to grow this strong already!” the metallic cold of the sword suddenly rested on Peter’s shoulder. “If you deny him now you will be lost and I will kill you! Acknowledge your enemy and fight! Fight!”
“I will not die now! I have waited to long already! Let me out now! Let me out and I will kill him!”
“Fight him, Peter! Fight! He is growing fast!”
“I must move quickly or he will kill us both! Let me out! There is no turning back!”
“Even the Soulblade can harm a dragon only so far, Peter! Fight him back now or I will kill you!”
“Give in, fool! I will take your body whether it spares your feeble mind or not!”
“Fight, Peter!”
“Give in!”
“Fight!”
Peter drowned in a torrent of pain so deep it tore apart and scorched the furthest regions of his being. He let out a cry of pain immortal, of suffering everlasting. I was all his suffering pushed in a single breath, and all the breath he had left. The end of that cry was the end of consciousness. It felt like a sweat embrace. It felt very much like dying.

Peter blinked, awake so suddenly that vision as the first thing to return to him. Even still it wasn’t the first thing to register. Hearing came first, and he heard a serene calm. No rain on the window, no voices screaming at him. Only the distant sound of traffic; even a few birds nearby. The sound of a normal morning. Only then came what he saw, and he saw light. More specifically, he saw the light of a room flooded by bright daylight. A beautiful summer day it would appear. He then noted he was staring at the room from a position lying down on the floor. He then noted his muscles were cramped, and he had been lying very badly on the wooden floorboard. His clothes were gone too, so he felt. It was a relief to see a blanket covered him. Carefully he pushed himself to a sitting position, draping the blanket around him tightly. Despite the heat, he shivered. At that point Benjamin walked in holding two mugs of coffee. Much to his own surprise, the sight of him didn’t scare Peter at all.
“Awake at last.” The other man noted with a real smile on his face! He sat down on the floorboard next to Peter, reclining comfortably against the wall as he offered one mug to Peter and sipped his own.
“Is he gone?” Peter asked him, ignoring the cup in his hands.
Benjamin savoured the flavour of coffee a few moments before looking up and replying. He even produced a second, reassuring smile. “No, not gone. He’ll never really be gone. A dragon soul doesn’t just vanish like that. Not unless I had killed you with the Soulblade, that is.” He seemed to be amused by that thought, but Peter only gave him a somewhat unsettled frown.
‘So what happens now?”
“Now? Now I teach you how to control his powers. To tame his soul, sorta speak. Given time, I might even teach you how to tame his body.” Green scales shimmered across his arms again for a moment, to disappear just as quickly. “Though that might be walking the edge slightly too closely with Wyraach-Ur.”
Peter contemplated that for a moment, staring at a distant point in the room as he took an absent sip from his coffe. “Would it be like what you and this other dragon have? This Alhron’d’Ras?” It surprised him he recalled the name, but then, he seemed to remember a whole lot of stuff about Alhron’d’Ras, Aknaddin and their shared history with Wyraach-Ur.
Benjamin shook his head, again looking amused. “No, the bond my bloodline shares with Alhron’d’Ras is very different from yours. We share a symbiotic bond; one of mutual understanding and friendship. We never interfere on each others thoughts, though we may sometimes merge in mind and sometimes even change places, where Alhron’d’Ras will assume control and I linger in the back of his mind. You will have to fight of Wyraach-Ur at every step and turn. He will try to wretch control from you at any given opportunity, and if he should ever succeed in taking both your mind and body, nothing can bring you back.” Benjamin turned a serious and at the same time sad face at Peter. “It will be a hard fight still.”
Peter gave a careful nod of understanding. “I think I’m ready.”