A Face That Terrifies
I have a terrifying face.
Never once in my life had I flown into a rage or threatened another soul. And yet, for as long as I could remember, people had kept mistaking me for something dreadful.
Clack.
The sound of a teacup striking its saucer. The maid serving me tea had trembled so violently that the cup chattered against its rest.
"F-f-forgive me, Lord Demesis! I—I've disturbed your rest... I—I deserve to die for this...!"
The study lay steeped in silence. Seated at my desk in that hushed stillness, quietly absorbed in my book, I stared blankly at the maid bowing her head before me.
"P-please, spare my life! Sob!"
I'd heard she was newly hired. Apparently no one wished to become my personal maid, so the poor newcomer had been forced to attend to me, the second prince.
"I have no intention of killing you."
"Aah! I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry...!"
I truly did not intend to kill her. I had no thought of harming the girl for rattling a teacup, nor any reason to take offense at so small a slip. I was simply glad — glad to be speaking with another person after so long. Everyone avoided me, after all; they fled at the very sight of me, calling me frightening. That a new maid's blunder had opened the way to an actual conversation was, for me, a genuinely wonderful turn of events.
"If you are sorry, then from this day forth, you shall be the one to attend me."
"Sob! Th-that is... that..."
I had blamed her for nothing — merely asked that she keep serving me — yet the maid wore the expression of one condemned to the cruelest punishment imaginable. Her body shook like an aspen leaf, and her eyes brimmed with tears ready to spill over. That, evidently, was exactly how she felt.
"If your duties here are done, you may take your leave."
"Y-yes! Of course, Lord Demesis...!"
Shuffle. Shuffle. She backed away, dabbing at the tears rolling down her cheeks with her sleeve. That maid mustn't quit her post too soon, I worried. She was the first person to speak with me in ages — if it could be helped at all, I hoped she would stay for a long, long while.
"Phew."
A sigh slipped out of me, laced with equal parts disappointment and joy. Resting my chin in my hand, I gazed at the door through which she had fled. I knew perfectly well why she had reacted that way.
I look terrifying. Truly, tremendously terrifying. Everyone always had, ever since I was small. Without my doing a single thing, people would feel dread, drown in their fear, and flee from me. And because they all avoided me, I in turn developed a fear of people myself.
The most dreaded second prince in all of Draikna, kingdom of the Dragonians. That was me — Demesis.
What exactly is so scary about me?
Stung by the unfairness of it, I took up the hand mirror set beside my desk and studied my own face. Bearer of the dragon's blood at its most potent: hair black as ink, amber eyes with savagely upturned lids, and pupils split straight down like a lizard's. Inexplicably, my nose and mouth were actually rather fine. It was only the face of a boy of eight — and yet the pressure and menace it carried ran on a different track from any other Dragonian alive.
If only we could have talked a little longer.
I seized a fistful of my jet-black hair and twisted it this way and that. The maid I had met only that day had heard nothing but rumors of me, laid eyes on me but once — and shuddered head to toe in terror. Even so, she had somehow scraped together the courage to stammer out an apology. Most people who slipped up in front of me never managed a single word; they simply panicked and fainted on the spot. Few could meet my eyes and keep their wits about them.
Was it because the dragon's blood flowing in my veins was too potent — too frightening to bear? Or was it simply that my face was so dreadful no one could stand the sight of it? Today, as every day, with no one daring to face me, I read alone. Books never run away from me. Too frightening for anyone to speak with, I had long soothed my loneliness in their pages.
BOOOOM—
It was a day when the sky lay smothered in darkness, unable to shed a single ray of light. As though an earthquake had torn through the land, the earth bellowed and the palace swayed from side to side. Wondering what calamity had struck, I left the study and walked out onto the balcony. Not one of the maids, the guard knights, or any other servant in the castle moved to stop me — every eye in the household was fixed on the commotion outside.
From the balcony I looked out over the grounds and beheld it: a colossal presence that had come crashing down upon the palace. The shadow of the dragon spoken of only in legend.
The dragon's shape burst into wild laughter, and the eardrum-splitting roar left my mind reeling; an overwhelming wave of pressure rolled in and shoved my body backward. Merely standing was a struggle — strength kept draining from my legs.
"Now then — where is my blood? Where does my bloodline dwell?"
The dragon's massive head swung from side to side. From snout to tail it was jet-black through and through — the Black Ancient Dragon. The dragon of our Dragonian kind: the one revered as the Progenitor Dragon of our race. His name was Kal-Kshantrokan.
"Oho."
The dragon bent low, peering down at the ground — and his eyes met mine. Amber eyes gleaming bright with interest.
"You do not fear me?"
He asked while looking directly at me. With so many Dragonians gathered in the royal palace, why question me of all people? I glanced around. Every soul had already bent low, forehead pressed to the earth, and Dragonians lay fainted beyond counting. I alone stood squarely on two feet, gazing up at the dragon — and surveying my surroundings only made me stand out all the more.
"I am afraid. Is this, in truth, the emotion called fear?"
I asked the dragon. It felt as though an unseen hand had seized my heart and squeezed — my insides knotted tight, cold sweat trickling down my spine. My palms were damp; strength bled from my legs. Was this the emotion called fear? To feel, at last, what everyone had always felt toward me — it was strangely new. For the first time in my life, I was learning a feeling I had never known.
"Nay — that is not fear, but joy."
The dragon, studying me closely from above, corrected me.
"You rejoice at the sight of me. What a commendable creature you are."
"Joy? So this feeling is what they call joy?"
A being whose words reached me. A noble being who did not fear me. Toward this existence who had planted an unfamiliar emotion in my breast, delight came surging up from somewhere deep in my chest.
"It is only natural for any living thing to feel fear before one of higher station. And it is every bit as natural to find one of like station — and rejoice."
The dragon spoke as though diagnosing the state of my heart.
"You have indeed inherited my blood."
That thunderous voice carried the very same joy I felt.
I had been smiling up at the dragon, but only for a moment. Something heavy came welling up from my chest. My heart felt as though it were brimming past its limits; my whole body went taut, as if it might tear apart.
"You will endure it. For you are blood of my blood."
The crushing pressure radiating from my own body made my head throb with pain. Stimulation beyond my control flooded my mind like a rising tide, and even breathing became a struggle. Little by little, my consciousness slipped away. In my dimming vision, the dragon's silhouette as it gazed down at me scattered like smoke.
How long had I slept?
"A Dragon Heart has formed within his heart."
A voice reached my ears. I could not open my eyes, so I could not tell who spoke. There was no strength in my body at all.
"Good heavens... Kal-Kshantrokan. You mean to tell me the Progenitor Dragon bestowed a Dragon Heart upon this child?"
A grave voice. I knew its owner the instant I heard it. The King of our Draikna Kingdom. My father.
"Incredible as it sounds, it is so, Your Majesty. The Progenitor Dragon appears to have taken note of the prince when he manifested in our kingdom."
"Hah... but why...?"
The King could not finish, his words trailing away. For a long moment, a tangle of emotions seemed to war within him.
"Can this child withstand the Dragon Heart? He has not once come to his senses since the Progenitor Dragon departed."
"Hard to say. There has never been a precedent in all recorded history, so I cannot promise when he will wake. Even so, the prince's body is adapting to the Dragon Heart and changing rapidly — you may allow yourself hope, Your Majesty."
The one speaking with the King was a mage — the court mage of our kingdom. Listening to the voice, I could place him.
"I cannot begin to fathom this portent. That the Progenitor Dragon, known to us only through legend, should manifest without warning would be marvel enough — but for this child to be granted a Dragon Heart as well... how is the world to change now?"
"The Progenitor Dragon must have had his reasons for bestowing the Dragon Heart upon the prince. It will prove a great blessing upon the realm."
"I only wish the boy himself could feel the same."
However hard I strained, I lacked the strength to open my eyes. My heart throbbed, hot and insistent.
"At this pace, the changes will take at least ten years. It may take even longer."
"It will take that long?"
"For a Dragonian body to withstand a Dragon Heart at all is a feat in itself. His condition as it stands borders on miracle."
"I suppose that is true enough. He is Demesis, after all — no one else but him..."
With those final words, my consciousness dimmed once more. Like a brush sinking into an inkstone, I submerged into black waters.
Flicker. Flicker. My consciousness sputtered on and off like a candle flame. There were moments I opened my eyes, moments I twitched a finger. But I could not rise. I lay in that bed for the better part of ten years.
When at last I came back to myself and rose, I felt it at once: everything about me had changed. I was eighteen now — a grown man. I had shot up in height until the world met my eyes from an entirely new level, and my body had hardened without a single seam. My senses were razor-sharp, my muscles brimming with power; it felt as though anything I touched might burst in my grip.
And —
The fear others felt toward me had grown far, far worse.