Zaikahtchi’s BeginningThis story begins in a land of odd creatures. Tear Drop. It was one year after the queen had been ‘killed,’ and the Basilisks were celebrating their victory against the Demons.
The way that a Basilisk views Demons are no more than snobby, selfish, narcissist creatures. Only one youngling disagreed.
So one won’t get lost, the Basilisks have a name for the different ages.
From 0-5 year old, they are called hatchlings, for males, and hatchlingeh’s, for females. From ages 6-13, they are called younglings for males, and younglingehs for females. Age 13 is the gateway to oldel. So when one is 13, they are considered younglings and oldel. So from age 13-20, one is considered an oldel for males, and oldeleh for females. Then comes the older ages, from 21-45, one is considered a dulte for males, and a dulteleh for females. Then once you reach 46 or older, you are considered to be an Elder.
In the clan of Basilisks, there are two who rule the clan. The Lord, which is always a male, and the Lordess, the wife of the male.
Very rarely do they have hatchlings, but sometimes they do.
In this generation, the Lordess gave birth to a handsome young basilisk named Zaikahtchi.
Yet there was something very unusual about this hatchling. He had a birth mark, which was soon to go away, and that birthmark represented the fact that he would be destined to become a familiar, a very special and rewarding thing for anyone. Not only was he that, but he was a True. True’s run in the mother’s blood.
True Basilisks are very rare, and the now-deceased Elder, which was a male, was a True. To be a True was something of high ranking. His parents were proud.
He was the center of attention to all younglingehs. For he was a very handsome youngling.
But soon his attention would turn to bad, to worst.
Then comes where to the part where the story begins.
~*~*~
It was a happy and joyful day for the basilisks as they celebrated their victory against the demons. Not only were they happy, but some were sad because Queen Lunette, the evil ‘queen’ of Tear Drop had been slain.
They were drinking and having parties, and they started to insult the demons.
“Those snobby creatures will never bother us again!” The Lord told, holding a small wine bottle. He wasn’t drunk at all, for it took him a lot to get a booze. All the basilisks, younglings of both genders, oldels of both genders, dulte of both genders, and even some Elders, yelled out in agreement.
Only one youngling failed to cheer. He was the son of the Lord Xairan and Lordess Kidaka.
He was only 13 years of age, and in the gateway to becoming a great Oldel. He looked up at his father, and he let his voice differ in the crowds opinion. “Father. I do not believe that all demons are truly evil...some of them are good. I’ve met some and-” the youngling began.
“You mean you befriended an enemy?!” His father yelled out, glaring at his young son.
“Yes father, but-!” Zaikahtchi talked back. The whole crowd became quiet.
“You have befriended someone that we hate, that we believe as evil. Youngling, you have committed treason. Not even someone as young as you can get away from that. My son, I am to disappointed to call you my son...” His father told him, calmly, yet madly.
“But father-” The youngling began again.
“You are dismissed.” The lord told his son. Young Kahtch looked at his father and walked away, towards the forest.
~*~*~
A few hours later Young Zaikahtchi was walking about with his best friend. Zaikahtchi was talking about the most recent things but his friend wouldn’t say a word. This worried the youngling as he looked at his good friend.
“What’s wrong, Kenta?” the Youngling asked.
“It’s you that’s wrong. How the heck do you suppose the Dulte and Dulteleh will react with you stupid and fricken speech! YOU ARE NO MORE THAN A TRAITOR! For all I know it was your fault that we almost lost the war, Zaikahtchi.” Kenta stared at the youngling.
“But Kenta....It’s my opinion! You don’t have to listen to it! Don’t let that ruin our friendsh-”
“We have no friendship any more...you’re no more than a slimy basilisk wanna-be. You’re no better than all those other traitors,” and to that, Kenta, Zaikahtchi’s friend ever since they had been hatchlings, stomped away.
“Kenta...” the youngling whispered to himself. If his best friend who was practically his brother reacted that way. Then how would the others react? His heart began to pound as he realized what he had done. He had spoken and acted against the beliefs of the Basilisks. He had betrayed his fellow friends, he had committed a crime worth a punishment far worse than just torture and exile, he had committed the crime that was worth his life.
He knew that he had to run, he had to avoid being killed. He wanted to live, he didn’t want anybody to hate him. He just wanted peace.
The youngling began to run, running off of his fear, his fear for his life. Soon he ran into the forest and heard voices behind him. They had begun the hunt.
Zaikahtchi ran faster and faster, letting fear guide his way, until he soon reached a cliff edge, the one that separated the Forbidden Lands from the Main Lands. Fear engulfed him as he felt a tap on his shoulder.
As he turned around, he received something unexpected: a punch right across the face, and he yelped in surprise as he stumbled backwards and almost fell off the cliff.
“Now, now, little True. Think you can get away from the Hunters? I think not...” Told an Oldel.
“Leave me alone...” Kahtch told, rubbing his cheek, that punch had been very hard, then the Oldel grabbed him by his neck, and he couldn’t breath, he scrambled against the Oldel, trying to get free. Then he saw his father, and his hopes ran high. Maybe his father would feel pity for him and not do anything, until his thoughts changed as the Oldel that had punched him before, kicked Kahtch in the side, knocking him down, as the Oldel let him go, and he rolled away near the cliff edge. Kahtch scram with pain and gasped for air.
Two other Oldels grabbed him by his arms and dragged him up. The youngling couldn’t feel his legs, for when the Oldel kicked him in his side, he had completely temporarily ruined the younglings ability to use them.
“Please...Father...make them stop...” the youngling pleaded to his father, but no response came from the Lord.
What the youngling was about to receive could make him not want to live any longer. The Oldel kicked Zaikahtchi multiple times in the gut, making the youngling loose his breath many times, until he thought he couldn’t breath any longer, and until the youngling began to cough up blood.
Zaikahtchi had been engulfed by pain as the same Oldel kicked and punched him over and over again. In the side, and on the face. The youngling kept screaming to his father to tell them to stop, but he wouldn’t respond, he would just stand there, arms crossed as he watched his son get killed slowly.
They soon let Zaikahtchi go and he fell onto the floor, where he received a few more kicks in the side. “Please...father....please...” he managed to get out, as blood ran down his lip.
“Just because you are my son, doesn’t mean anything. It is a disgrace to call you my son. And because you are in the gateway to becoming an Oldel, you shall suffer the punishment all traitor Oldel suffer.” Lord Xairan told.
Zaikahtchi’s eyes widened, for the grave punishment /would/ indeed be death. The Oldel that had been punishing the youngling at first picked up Zaikahtchi by the hair and dragged him up. He then wrapped kept his left arm and hand at the younglings head, keeping it stretched, out in the open, in risk of what the youngling was about to come forth with. The Oldel took out a knife and held it up against the younglings neck, and Zaikahtchi could feel the cold blade breath on his neck, begging to slit it open.
Tears sparkled and rolled down the youngling’s beat up face. He didn’t want to die and again and again he began to plead to his father to let him go, but his father would not listen. The youngling felt the blade push against his neck, and some warm blood run down, until he heard a shout that stopped the oldel, and everyone faced that direction.
It was the Lordess. Her face glistening with tears as she ran towards her son.
“Please, don’t harm my son any more, I can’t stand it. Please, Xairan, spare his life! He is our only son, please...” she pleaded.
“My love, he has committed a grave crime. It is time he had payed for it.” the Lord replied.
“Don’t...please...just exile him, I will not be able to accept the fact that my boy had been slain in front of his own father, who had cared so much for and raised up. I can’t...please...let him go...” Lordess Kidaka pleaded.
“Fine...he will be exiled. Now leave.” Lord Xairan told, nodding his head to the Oldel that held the youngling to let him go. The Oldel let go of Zaikahtchi and the youngling fell to the floor, completely covered in scratches and aching with pain.
“Mo...ther...” he said, faintly. Lordess Kidaka ran to her son and picked him up gently, hugging him.
“My son, I can’t believe this has happened to you...my son...” She cried. She then let him lean against her, as she took off her special necklace and put it around Zaikahtchi’s. “Keep it my son...don’t ever forget about me...” she told. She then took out a small box and it shrunk, she said some words and she made it fuse temporarily with her pendant. “My son, it is the puzzle box passed down from True to True, it is your turn...keep it in a safe place, don’t ever loose it.” She told, laying him down as she got up.
“Mother...don’t...leave...me...” the Youngling cried.
“I’m sorry...” She cried as she ran off.
“So what now, Sir?” The Oldel who had nearly taken the younglings life asked.
“Give him one more treatment, and if he doesn’t die, I will drop him down the cliff myself and I will let nature devour him.” the Lord told.
Zaikahtchi’s eyes widened as he looked at the Oldel. The Oldel was surrounded by shadows and he was soon in his basilisk form. “Get ready for the time of your life...” the Oldel said, picking up the youngling by the scruff of his shirt and lifting him up high into the air in his mouth. Zaikahtchi knew not of what was up ahead, but fear engulfed him once again.
The Oldel jumped up and with a quick movement, swung his head and slammed the youngling onto the floor, as a human would a fish to kill it.
Pain exploded in the youngling as his eyes widened and he lost all of his breath, not even having enough time to scream. He bounced up and then landed again right on his back. He felt his bones crumble, breaking four of his already-weak ribs and luckily not his spine. Pain rushed through him as he couldn’t move and breath. He just couldn’t find his breath as he rolled over with his eyes still widened, and his mouth open, trying to gasp for air. He got to the point where he felt so light-headed, and he thought he would die right that second, until he found the air, but the pain was still too strong. He rolled over his side in agony, and winced as his broken ribs poked at his lungs, removing his breath.
The youngling just wanted to die, he wouldn’t want to feel anymore pain, he wanted to die.
He stayed rolled over, clenching his stomach as pain kept on swarming in his body. He clenched his eyes as tears rolled down his cheeks. Soon, he felt a hot breath against his face, and soon lost his breath as someone grabbed him by his neck.
When Zaikahtchi found the energy to open his eyes, and he no longer felt ground underneath himself, he saw the one person he least expected to do this. His father.
His father held him straight in the air, right above the cliff edge. “It is time for me to do what every Lord must do in order to keep their clan in peace. Exile you.” He said.
“Fa-ther!” Zaikahtchi gasped for breath as he held onto his fathers arm which held him by the younglings neck. “Please!!!” and to that, he no longer felt the pressure on his neck, but he free fell down. He soon touched the ground and tumbled, more pain streaming through his body, as he soon came to a stop. Everything went black to the youngling.
~*~*~
(Not finished, don’t worry, it get’s happier....)
