AN: This is a story I've been working on for a while. Please let me know what you think, I'll have the first chapter up next week or possibly later this week if I get in edited quickly enough.

EDIT: Lengthened somewhat, by suggestion.

Prologue

Drasa- a dragon/ human hybrid breed by human scientists to combat extra-terrestrial life forms. With the strength of ten men they were the front line soldiers in the war to fight off the alien invasion. They were stronger and faster than normal human soldiers. They were able to fly lower, faster and longer than any fighter pilot, and march further, faster, and longer then human soldiers. After many years, the aliens retreated due to heavy casualties against these dragon men.

Without an enemy to fight, the drasa had no real purpose. Normal people feared the intense, powerful creatures and many protested the integration of them into normal society. Faced with the overwhelming protests, the earth governments changed the purpose of the drasa from soldier to manual laborer.

The drasa accepted their lot, for they had been trained to follow orders and had no idea what they could do off the battle field. Many generations passed as the drasa sank deeper into the slave mindset, not knowing that their lives should’ve been free for them to live.

But the humans should’ve realized that the arrangement wouldn’t last. After thousands of years of subjugation, the drasa began to want more. They began plotting revolts, but they never succeed in winning their freedom. Whisperings began of a chosen one that would eventually be born. This chosen one was going to be born of a human woman, but live as one of them. The drasa waited, knowing their time would come.

I was born on a night of bloodshed and betrayal. Just hours after my birth, my parents were murdered by the private soldiers of my grandfather, who was furious that my mother took her drasa as a lover. My grandfather, disgusted with my mixed birth and with my appearance, sent me to be raised in a containment home, a drasa “orphanage”, until I was six and could be sold legally.

Like all drasa, I wasn’t given a name by the humans that raised me. Because I was drasa, I did not deserve a true name. I was “drasa”, “you”, or “it” until I was bought for the first time, and then I was the number encoded on my slave band, 33-7. Later 0-9 would be added.

My first master set me to the usual task of a drasa, cleaning. I was the only one small enough to reach behind shelves and cupboards, so that was my job until I was about eight and too large to fit in those areas. Then I was sold, no one wanted an idle drasa. I was sold five more times over the years until I was between thirteen and fourteen years and began to see the wrongness of my life. I began to speak of my misgivings about my people’s entire existence. When drasa began whispering about me all over the master’s home, I was sold. But my words had done their work and, even though I didn’t wish the name, I was called “Elekti” by my people.

I was sold many times over the next three years. I was kept only until the other drasa began whispering of “Elekti”. The humans knew of our supposed savior, so I was sold as soon as they heard whispering of “Elekti”. No matter where they put me, away from other drasa, word always circulated about my presence. The masters feared an uprising by my people, so I was finally sold to the one master that didn’t fear the whisperings of my people. I was sold to the last master I expected to belong to, and the only house where the drasa feared to whisper or plan an uprising.