For thousands of years, two dragons would meet at the top of a mountain. This was their dance. Every year, at the blossoming of the sakura tree the dragon of change, would arrive at the temple of the dragon of peace bearing a gift and a game. Every year they had the same wager, whomsoever won their bout would spell the winds of the coming seasons. For one thousand years, the dragon of peace stood undefeated. For one thousand years the dragon of change agreed not to act out his will.

The dragons were opposites, while Zhongtian watched the seasons wane and wax and his chosen people live their lives, Savrosh’garexys moved with terrible speed and restlessness, to progress the ever-looming goal in his mind. Yet, their tradition endured, even though their essences disagreed. They knew that the other was the only unchanged connection they had to a long-forgotten time.

The day they would play again had arrived and Zhongtian awaited in his temple. To a being as long-lived as he not much had changed in the turn of the year, but Zhongtian appreciated all the shifts and cycles the new years brought him. He found great joy in watching the harvesting of the grains by the people of the village of Jidai, always plentiful due to the weather he blessed them with, or watching the flowers bloom in his mountain path after being covered by the heavy winter. The dragon of the mountain felt like a proud gardener with a thriving garden, ready to tend to them once again.

It wasn’t long before he felt the fluttering waves of arcane magic on his consecrated path, an arrival. Zhogtian floated, effortlessly, snaking his gigantic form that filled the ceiling of his temple.

The doors opened and a man with a busy expression and fluttering robes entered the large room. The room’s atmosphere was of utter peace, which contrasted with the urgency in the man’s steps. The walls were adorned with artifacts collected through the many years since the Enlightened Dragon had chosen the mountain as his home, the floor was soft and the place was perfectly clean. All was in balance.

The monumental figure of Zhongtian in his temple would inspire awe in all who saw him, but the man seemed unaffected as he crossed the hall. Zhongtian watched amusedly.  

“I have brought tea.” The man found a comfortable place to sit, finally resting.

This was Savros, Headmaster of Loxwort Academy and master of the arcane arts. This was also Savrosh’garexys, a Lorewyrm, the greatest of his kind. To Zhongtian he was also a friend.

“Courtesy of Miss Eililys, I presume.” Zhongtian glided lightly circling the room.

“From her gardens, yes.” Savros replied rushedly.

“Give her my thanks.” Zhongtian stopped facing his friend in the air.

“She doesn’t know you exist, Zhongtian. None of them do.” Savros began hurriedly and neatly unpacking the herbal tea. “Will you stay in your draconic form or shall we play?”

“I’m surprised you would actually want to stay in this form, old friend. It seems our roles are flipped.” The dragon said amusedly, lowering to the ground. “Have you finally grown attached to this identity?”

“Don’t be a fool.” Savros waves the comment away, the movement making the smell of the herbs fill the room.

Zhongtian’s form shrunk as he met the ground, scales seamlessly shimmering into golden skin. Robes formed from the condensed clouds that clung to the dragon’s body and silver-grey hair grew from the wind, framing his face. This figure was of an old man, wisdom pouring from his caring gold eyes. In his hands, he clutched a stone tea set balanced on a simple wooden gaming board.

“If to be a fool is to put forth hope onto the world” Zhongtian sat, facing Savors. “Then I am the greatest of fools.”

Zhongtian was always resolute that Savros could change his ways. He understood that his friend’s mind was tormented with worry always, but he believed enlightenment came to all, one life at a time. Not many had lived more lives than the two of them still.

“Let us start the game.” Savros stared at the board intently. He was deep in thought as he often was, Zhongtian found that his mind was only his to understand and didn’t dare wonder what happened there.

“Will this be a friendly game for once?” Savros’ focus broke.

“No.” Savros started setting up the board while Zhongtian prepared the water for the tea “The usual bet.”

The game was an ancient one, forgotten through the ages. Yet, the dragons played it still, as they had for thousands of years, it was called Dok. Zhongtian had offered many times to change to a new game, but Savros insisted on this one, even though in the thousands of years they played he had never won a single game.

Dok was played with glass marbles set on a wooden board, it was a game about battle, oddly Zhongtian, a pacifist, understood the game intrinsically. He saw it as the peacemaker’s duty to understand war more than the greatest general, because that’s what it took to avoid it. 

“We could stop, you know? Bring an end to our games and live in peace” Zhongtian waited as Savros finished setting up the board.

“Will you fight this war then?” Savros started with a central advance, a usual opening in Dok. The first move.

“War wouldn’t bring back what we had” An opening with a back piece, Zhongtian had always preferred the most unusual course of action when it came to Dok.

“I didn’t think so” Savros seemed unsurprised. The game continued. “The state of the world is pitiful. It saddens me that I didn’t have enough foresight to see what we did was wrong. I must put an end to this”

The water was ready. Zhongtian believed there was a perfect temperature for tea, a balance, like for anything else. He poured it into the teapot with the herbs. 

“Perhaps it was wrong, but then again it happened. Take herbs of our wondrous beverage, it has been brewed, it cannot be unbrewed.” Zhongtian served a plentiful dose of tea. “This means the unbrewed herbs are a possession only for the past. Even if the tea was brewed in sullied water, there is nothing one can do. So we shouldn’t hurt ourselves with worry”

“Then should we forget the thousands of deaths, forget about all those we’ve lost?” Savros never much enjoyed allegories. 

“We mourn them, yes, but engaging in more bloodshed will not erase the mistakes of the past.” Zhongtian pressured the left side of the board, this was an obvious play. If Savros didn’t protect it was a victory in four moves.

“What they did to us…” Savros considered the board.

“Is done.” Zhongtian took a long sip of the tea.

“I can’t believe you sit here and do nothing, Zhongtian. You watch idly as the world burns.” Savros seemed to spot the right move and protected his left. The game continued.

“From the ashes, the phoenix rises. There must be destruction for there to be growth.”

“Are you on their side?” Savros had not taken a single sip, his tea was getting cold.

“There are no sides, old friend.”

“This is what got your kind killed. You’d prefer death than to raise arms.” Savros downed his tea “Your pacifist ideals will die with you.”

This gave Zhongtian some pause, he was convicted of his ideals, but leaving this world behind, although a fear he had long conquered, made him feel sorrow. This didn’t deter his focus, he spotted Savros’ attack as he opened the field. A victory in three moves in favor of Savros.

“I hope they will live on through my legacy.” Zhongtian mustered a defense with his edge pieces, this could open up a possible victory. “Death comes to us all, the flesh is only a passing vessel we are blessed with, but it is limited. The symbols we build and the hope we inspire is what goes on.”

“To be misheard and forgotten” Savros continued the game.

“This is surprising coming from a scholar”

“That is exactly my point. What we leave behind is useless without our presence.” Savros grew frustrated at this. “The scrolls and the books we write are a paradox. We erode physically, yes, but they erode in content, they are misinterpreted, undone.”

“They are added to, to build knowledge.” Zhongtian proposed.

“Knowledge is useless if added unchecked. If the Lorewyrms, my people, had lived on, imagine how much we could have been preserved. How much would you give to meet Zandralox, the Wise in the flesh?” Savros looked on exhilarated, as if he saw a mirage beyond the walls of the temple.

“Nothing. There is nothing you can give to make this happen. That is my point Savros, you must learn to forgive and to accept. Our age had passed.”

“Wrong, you are wrong.” Savros calmed down. “We could bring forth a new age for dragonkin. We could bring back the one who saved us so long ago.”

Savros moved his Dok, his general piece towards the center of the field. Zhongtian waved this move as delusion, Savros acted impassioned over an illusion. He moved forward a piece, capturing a centerpiece defendant, he saw a victory in two.

“No, Savros. This is folly, it is sealed and for a reason, we made our choice a long time ago.” Zhongtian couldn’t comprehend what made Savros see this as a possibility. His friend was chasing clouds, dangerous clouds that made storms.

“We made a mistake. One we must atone for.”

“If you are questioning that choice you have truly gone mad with grief. You can’t be serious about this.”

“For the greater good.” Savros grew quiet. He didn’t defend his Dok, he just advanced an inconsequential back marble.

Zhongtian was staggered, how could he be thinking that this was possible? Had he run the course of sanity and had come through the other side? 

“It is impossible after all, the council has died off. You would need the blood of all six dragons. Your plan would never work.” Zhongtian understood the impossibility of this, maybe Savros would see reason. He made his move, his Dok advancing to capture Savros, he would win hereafter.

“Eye Stalker lived on, a drake made in his image. The blood of Dark Fang lives on with his brood in the Tenebris.” Savros was unsettlingly calm.

“The protodragons were extinct, you cannot find the blood of the Asteron dragon.” A logical impossibility, Zhongtian thought.

“His kin was revived from stone, friend. An alchemist secured a specimen to his collection. I have it. I only need you.” Zhongtian felt the dread grow as Savros spoke.

“And Everdeath.” Zhongtian’s words glided past his opponent, ineffective, hollow.

Savros stood in deep silence, that spoke more than all his words combined. All the pieces were in place, one final move would finish the game.

“You are in league with Everdeath” This realization hit Zhongtian the hardest, betrayal. Thousands of years of trust and friendship only to be betrayed.

Savros sprung his trap, a back piece was taken from the back ranks, a flawless attack, an imperceptible weapon of death, Zhongtian’s general had no way to escape. This was the end, of everything.

“How?” the word came out as a whisper, but Zhongtian wanted to scream, the sanctity of his temple defiled. What had been done couldn’t be undone.

“I have understood your limitations for the past century.” Savros spoke, stoically. “I could have won our game for the last decade. It was time.”

“You will not have my blood.” All Zhongtian felt he could do was stall. 

“Friend…” Savros looked down at the game. Couldn’t he even look at Zhongtian? Did he understand what he had done?

“You call me a friend, traitor. You propose the death of thousands. You will get no goodwill from me. If you want my blood you will have to kill me.”

“Although this might sever your trust in me, Zhongtian, I consider you my only friend. You have listened to me longer than anyone, even in disagreement. This I know was out of love. I would never kill you. I will only take your blood if you give it willingly.

“Never.” Zhongtian was broken, he believed in Savros, he believed he could change and see the light. He now noticed he had been a fool.

“Jidai is surronded by oni and yokai. They will destroy your people, your legacy, at my command. Do what I ask and I will tell them to leave.”

Zhongtian’s eye darted toward the door, instinct overcoming him, he was ready to fly down and protect his people, banish any threat that may cause them harm.

“The temple is warded.” Savros wasn’t looking at Zhongtian at all. “You may wish it away, but I will just bring it back.” He remained calm and sipped the tea. “You may try to fight me, you might even defeat me, I know you could.”

Zhongtian was desperate, his mind rushing, worry consuming him, his heart rushing inside his human form.

“Then again, can you defeat me before your people perish?”

Silence. 

The loudest silence Zhongtian had ever felt. 

He had been cornered. He knew his death would come someday, but not even in his darkest nightmares did he think it would come in the form of a friend.

Zhongtian extended a hand, his long sleeves slowly gliding back on his arm. With his finger he cut the hand, blood gushing out from the wound onto Savros’ teacup. 

“You have poisoned me with your tea and words. Take this and never return.”

Savros took the blood-filled cup, made his last move, capturing the trapped Dok, and left.

To this beat, Zhongtian’s draconic form broke from his human shape, it had become too heavy with sorrow for the magic to contain it. The pain he felt overtook him, possessing his every thought. He had been wounded on a spiritual level. He wasn’t himself. 

The dragon moved towards the door, he had to help his people, but the weight of this event pulled him down. He felt the burning rage churn inside him seep outside, surround him. He now only knew anger and resentment. He comprehended his death of spirit, the meaning of that betrayal, and frenzied corruption overtook him.