"In ancient times…umm…" began a young boy around age 10, to himself. He seemed to be struggling to read the smudged words on an aged wall inside a mighty temple; years had taken their toll on the letters. "Let's see…In ancient times, a great war with beasts of legend…was quelled after generations…when a warrior of honor stepped forth and cast his life aside to trap eight supreme deities, of both purity and darkness, into a treasure that would forever be known as the Gem of Dura…Duragon…named after the most vile and horrifying of the eight creatures."

The boy paused, already exhausted from trying to decipher the meanings of such sizeable words. He began to take a break, stroking strands of his lengthy raven hair away from his shimmering cobalt eyes. The boy had a rather bold expression, defying his frail body and fair skin. He opened the black cloak that covered his sleeveless crimson vest, the arid conditions of the temple defying the chilly autumn weather outside. With a sigh, the boy continued.

"The souls of the creatures continue to forever battle inside the depths of the treasure, three bringers of peace led by Chard, the noble bird of the holy flame, and the three sinful prop...proprietors of darkness led by Duragon. The other two spirits tried in vain to quell the fighting, forced to watch the war in safety. For all eternity, the Gem must be sealed, for if its chaotic powers should be awakened…" The boy silently scratched his head and squinted his eyes, determined to read the rest.

After several moments, he sighed, his curiosity defeated by the oncoming frustration. He realized that the ancient text was far too complicated for a mere child to read, so ambitions of the following day grew. He decided that when he returned home, he would request for one of his parents to accompany him tomorrow. "These are better than the stories Father tells me!" he said excitedly, beginning to run down the steps of the abandoned temple that he had made frequent visits to for the last few days. He took one last look at the eight sculptures that guarded the temple's entrance, a group of three on opposite sides of the other, and to the side, two non-combatants watched the conflict. A figure in the shape of a beautiful human female stared down a titanic ogre of a man. A sea serpent wrapped around a stone column shaped as a crushing wave opposed a ferocious tiger whose eyes gleamed with a hostile, arrogant gaze. In the gentle grasses near the steps to the temple stood two other statues. One was a solemn, yet prideful wolf that wore an expression of revulsion at the fighting before him. At his side stood a slender unicorn with a look of sadness in her gentle eyes.

On the roof of the almighty structure stood the most impressive face off of the opposing sides. Clearly, the grandeur and all aspects of the two sculptures indicated that these were the leaders and key figures in the never-ending conflict. On the left side of the roof, aligned with the woman and serpent on the stairs far below, stood a gentle bird with outstretched wings. The most defining features of this bird were its magnificent wings, despite being made of dull stone; any observer could imagine the glorious flames erupting from the phoenix's wings.

The boy's eyes widened in fright as he shifted his eyes to Chard's opponent, aligned with the human male and the tiger, both intimidating figures, but nothing compared to Duragon. The size of the gigantic and serpentine dragon stretched from the top of the temple, wrapping around the structure an alarming seven times, and finally ending at the entrance. The beast's reptilian eyes gored daggers through his opponent, and the sword-like fangs were shaped into a vicious smirk. The boy turned around in fear, even a replication of such a fiend sent shivers down his spine. Reluctantly, he turned to leave the foreboding structure behind.

Making his way down the hill, he passed by several trees, each having a brilliant display of maroon and mahogany on the bark, and having a wonderful mix of red, yellow and orange leaves that were both on the branches, and others that had fallen to the stump below. He smiled at the environment before him; life had been peaceful during his delicate ten years of life, and despite his health troubles, he still had his whole life to appreciate nature.

Pulling himself away from the environment, he looked above the village to see a blinding red light. Strange, he thought, it's way too early for the sun to be setting. As he neared even closer to the village, he could feel an odd heat wave that defied the chilly autumn air. His eyes finally adjusted to the light, and immediately widened in horror as he witnessed fire raining upon his village.

The realization occurred that he had to help his family escape the relentless conflagration, preparing himself to enter the danger, knowing his body might not be able to endure. As if in reprisal to his thought, he saw an object that shone even brighter than the flames ravaging his village, shining like a jewel of pink quartz. The object seemed to pulsate of its own accord, and then in a swift motion, exploded in what gave the impression as eight pieces. He ran towards his village, oblivious to a shard of the object shooting towards him like a predator pouncing its prey, the enticing and rosy color morphing into a dark onyx. He soon felt an indescribable pain, far worse than anything his body had endured before, as the shard pierced his flesh with ease and abruptly stopped near his heart. The pain stabbed through his entire body, his movement ceased and his body fell lifelessly to the damp ground like a limp rag doll.

Some time passed, hours, days, weeks, and time meant nothing to the boy until he awoke to freezing raindrops. He rose to his feet, gently checking his wound. He was surprised that there were only minor bloodstains on his vest; the hole was already scabbed over. He could see in the sky that a gently rain had quelled the raging fires that previously attacked the village. What he saw of his village shattered his already throbbing heart. His formerly peaceful and thriving village had transformed into a smoldering shell of its former glory, and his bright hopes of leaving with his family alive dimmed to a dismal glow.

Gravely, he made his way into the outskirts of the village, hoping irrationally that some life remained in his family. The sights in the village made him gasp and turn his head with his tears stinging his eyes. Neighbors he had greeted and spoken to hours before cluttered the ground, all of their life driven from their bodies; their fright was etched across their faces.

As he arrived at the scorched house that he had once called home, he breathed deeply and entered. The inside of his home was unrecognizable; the bookshelf lay next to the mattresses on the soot-filled floor. Two mounds were aligned as he cleared the soot away. His breath ceased as he saw the forms of his parents lying in fright, their bodies already as cold as the air outside. Backing against the wall, the terrified boy let out a scream, his whole world had been taken from him in just a few short minutes. He knelt on the floor, sobbing as his tears quickly formed a river through the dirt.

A third mound began to stir at the noise, a seven year-old girl surfacing into the boy's vision. Despite being tainted by the lackluster dust, her long hair stood flaming almost as brightly as the fire that had previously ravaged the village. Her thin structure resembled the boy's, and her face reflected the same fright as his. His eyes lit with a start as he saw his younger sister in a new light, she was the last hope he had left with their parents gone. After a gentle embrace, they struggled to make their way out of the village, yet no words were shared as they sobbed together. The boy led his sister as they finally left the village, and finally their tragic weeping broke the silence.

"Brother…what will we do now?"

"Don't worry…there's a village to the east…we'll manage, I promise…"

Ten years have passed since that fateful day.