Once upon a time a child was born to a strange couple.  The boy who was named Sorath did not resemble his father and for this his father was wroth.  It was for this reason that the father slew the boy's mother, for he was a cruel and vengeful man.
	The father was a powerful knight and a sorcerer of sorts.  His bitter vengeance transformed the boy into an image more like him, more suiting to his eye.  But the boy became an outcast to humans for his fathers hate had turned the boy into a reptilian monster.
	In shame for his son's hateful appearance he imprisoned him in a perpetually dark cell in his deepest dungeon. No one was allowed to know of him or see him bar an ancient and blind steward.
Many years passed and the knight had become a lord close to the king of this land.  He travelled far across distant lands, leaving his son in despair in his dungeon home, and he was glad for though his appearance was foul his heart was pure and innocent.  Not even his father's mistreatment turned his soul black and dark.  This burnt the father for his soul was dark and evil, hungry for dominion and power.  
Dominion and power were also why he travelled.  One day, 17 years since the birth of his son he found what he sought.
When he was young the father had been told that one day he would be king.  This promise had fuelled his lust for power, he wanted to be king and he would achieve this by any means necessary.  This promise had come from a seer, a woman tortured by visions of the future.  However the vision also spoke of a strange warrior who was the key to the kingship.  All the father was told about this warrior was that they were female with strange powers and strange soul.
The lord found her, Varir Deeplight she was called.  A woman, little more than a girl, this warrior was adept with sword and bow.  But there was something about her, something intangible that marked her as this strange warrior.  The lord tempted her with illusions of power and glory, and in her youth she agreed.  When they returned to his land his soldiers were confused, who was this girl and how could she attain the kingship for the lord.  But soon they understood, she had amazing strength and agility for such a young girl.  But it was her eyes that seemed to see into your very soul.  In battle many a warrior fell to those eyes, that hypnotic glance that destroyed your concentration leaving you open to attack.  And it was those eyes that destroyed the king.
The king was a fearful man.  He saw deceit all around him and trusted no one but himself.  But he was also a weak man and couldn't defend himself against his best warriors, except for one thing.  In his youth he had created a magical amulet and it was this that protected him. On top of all of this the amulet could only be removed by the king and only destroyed when away from human flesh.
One dark night Varir crept into the king's apartments.  This wasn't hard; the king's distrust became his own downfall.  When her eyes fell upon the sleeping king she was filled with self-loathing.  How could she kill this poor defenceless man?  Curled in a tight ball on this massive bed he seemed such a piteous man.  His face was etched with lines that aged him and hands perpetually held in claws.
"He stirs", she thought, as her presence seemed to awaken some deep instinct in him.  He awoke with a whimper, wide eyes on her blade first of all then onto her face and at last her eyes.  In that instant a profound calm spread over his face and Varir was very surprised.  She knew of her power but never had she met a man in such need of release.  She forced him to remove the amulet but she couldn't kill him.  In that moment she saw what power could do and rejected it.
A crash sounded in the hall and in rushed the lord.  Hungry for power he had snuck in behind her.  Seeing the amulet in her hands he entered the king's bedroom, dagger in hand and drove it into the heart of the king.  Varir saw then the lord's true soul and longed to kill him, but something stopped her.  Instead she threw the amulet across the room, drew her bow and sent an arrow through it as it spun in the air.  Thus destroying it forever.  The lord was angry but he had all but achieved the kingship now.  He felt secure for he trusted her and her power.  He had seen in her a common lust and now his vision was clouded with the same lust.  He loved her but it was an ugly love.  It was only her power that prevented him to force himself on her and he didn't see it.
One evening, with preparations for the lord to move into the king's castle in full swing, she saw the lord sneak out of his apartments.  He crept deep into the bowels of his castle and she followed him.  Her curiosity overwhelmed her when she saw him duck behind a secret door.  When he left hooded and cloaked, she found her way into a hidden hallway lit by a single candle. Through a darkened doorway at the end of the hall an old blind man was shuffling.  She slipped in behind him, into the pitch darkness of the cell.  As she entered she realised that there was someone else in this cell apart for herself and the blind man.  For once in her life she was uncertain.  Who was this other person? Why were they in a pitch-dark cell little better for animals? Could this new person see her?
In the darkness the blind man felt a new presence, his heightened senses warning him.
"My lord", he cried, "Is that you, for if it is why do you remain?"
Varir did not reply, she couldn't.  She stood in silence by the door, stunned yet strangely relaxed.  Then came a gentle voice from the darkest corner.
	"It is not my father, faithful steward, that resides by the door.  It is someone new, someone who knows nought of us."
	"Oh little lord", cried the steward despairingly, "For if it is then I have failed the lord and he shall kill me."
	"No old man, he shall not know that I have been here if it would mean your death", Varir said.  "Please tell me who you are, for you do not sound like criminals and even the lord's greatest enemies would get the barest amount of light."
	"Oh we are far worse than enemies or criminals, lady", the voice laughed, "My father would only keep the most notorious fiends in a cell like this.  I am Sorath and this is my steward."
	"Your father!" exclaimed Varir, "Then I did hear right the first time."
	"Little Lord!" cried the steward. " You should not talk about your father like that.  He has done this for your safety."
	"Good steward", Varir gently said, "I am afraid that in your seclusion and blindness you do not see the true man who is your lord."
	And with that she told them both all she knew of the lord.  And the steward was horrified when she told him how he had achieved the kingship, but Sorath was not.  He remained quiet throughout the tale and when she was finished he asked her to return another night so he could hear more of her tale.
	This continued every night for a week.  One evening Sorath told his story.  He told of his birth, his father's hate and his life in the dark for he had grown to trust Varir.  That evening he asked his steward to leave so he could talk in private with Varir.
	"Varir", whispered Sorath, "There is something I feel I must tell you, something I have told no one before.  My faithful friend believes my father is a good man because he knows no different.  My knowledge of my birth came not from him, nor my father.  It is true that my steward told me a story of my early life but it was incomplete and tainted.  He believes that I have made up the story I told you, twisting it from his truth in my loathing.  But I do not hate my father, do you believe me?"
	"I believe you", she said.  His intensity had been so strong she couldn't disbelieve him.  There was something about him, a detachment that made him seem incapable of hate.  "Tell me, who told you?"
	"My dreams are filled with colours and light," he said, "The world is a mystery to me yet I seem to understand it for I have been taught.  My mother told me.  I hear her voice almost every night.  Sometimes I understand her, sometimes it is just her presence that warms me."
	"What does she look like", she asked.
	"I don't know I have never seen her face", he replied, "But I would like to know if any of her still remains in me.  I know I am a monster but there has to be a vestige of her beauty left.  I do not believe that my father could destroy it utterly.  Please, tomorrow bring a mirror and light"
	"Of course," Varir said, "But before I go, why do you not leave?  You are not locked in here."
	"I could," Sorath replied, "But what would I do out there.  And even if I could survive what would happen to my blind friend.  If my father were to find out I was gone his life would be forfeit.  I could not do that to him, he is a good man."
	The next evening Varir brought a torch and a mirror with her to Sorath's cell.  She was apprehensive, no she was scared.  What would he look like?  Over the past evenings she had grown to like him.  She knew it shouldn't matter but somehow it did.  Silently she lit the torch from the lone candle in the hidden corridor.  The warm light flooded the corridor casting strange and horrific shadows all around her.  She shuddered but strode purposefully into the cell.
	For a moment she was blinded by light in that small cell.  Ironically the darkest cell was also the brightest as its walls were filled with flecks of quartz.  In that magical light she saw at last the bareness of the cell.  Yet it was quite beautiful, the light shimmering around the walls and shining off the straw that made it seem like spun gold.  When her eyes grew accustomed to the brightness she saw him, and she was sad for even this most mystical light could not make Sorath seem ordinary.  He was repulsive.  His skin was pale and slightly green, even scaly in places.  His back was stooped with protuberances at the shoulder and the skin was stretched tight across his back revealing an angular backbone.  His feet and hands were large and bony, fixed into claws and he had the vestige of a tail.  His nose was almost snout like but his mouth was normal.  His eyes were slit like a cats, his ears pointed and a crest could be seen through his scarce hair.  But on top of all of this he was thin and his muscles were wasted through darkness, confinement and lack of food.
	In the corner of her eye she could see the steward.  In the bright light she could see how truly ancient he was.  His white hair seemed to glow and the warmth the torch exhumed in this small room gave him serenity.  For a moment she wondered who this man had been in his youth.  But still it was Sorath that kept her attention.
	"I see in your eyes how horrendous I am," he whispered, "Please, I must know, I must see for myself.  Give me the mirror."
	Varir handed over the mirror that had been a present from Sorath's father.  His hand was shaking and his eyes were closed.  He couldn't bear to look upon his hands or his barely clothed body.  He had always known that he was abnormal from the first moment he had felt it in the dark but the truth had taken him aback.  Varir couldn't watch as he looked deep into the glittering surface.
	"So now I know," his voice broke as he spoke.  "And so do you.  Do you hate me?"
	"No I don't," she said, "It is much worse than that.  I pity you and I hate myself for that.  And I see in your eyes, I know you want to ask if I find you disgusting."
	"Do you?" he asked trembling.
	"Yes", she replied.
	There was a silence between them.  And no matter how she felt about him she couldn't ignore whom he was underneath.  Something told her that she had to help him, no that she wanted to help him.  And she would.  In that moment Sorath saw what she thought and knew that that would have to be enough.
	The next evening Varir brought another torch and a long hooded robe.  She herself was wearing a dark robe, which was unusual, as it was quite warm inside the castle, even this deep underground.
	"Come on, put this on," Varir said impatiently to Sorath, "We are getting out of this cell."
	"What!" Sorath exclaimed, "I can't!"
	"You won't, you mean," she said "I want to show you the world.  Don't worry all will be well."
	At this he gave up trying to argue and he awkwardly put on the robe.  They snuck out of the cell leaving the steward to sleep quietly.  Through darkened corridors they flitted like shadows.  Out into the grounds they walked.  The moonlight turned the grass grey and glittering and shimmered across the water of the lake.  Sorath was amazed in the immensity of the world, in the colours around him, in the clouds and the wind.  They stood there, staring for many an hour.  When the midnight hour rang across the grounds the spell was broken and they realised just what a silly risk they were taking.  Back they rushed to the cell but Sorath couldn't give up the world now, so this was repeated every night.  Sometimes they would go somewhere different but always they would return to the grass and the lake and the breeze.
	One evening, a week before the move, Sorath finally admitted what Varir knew one day he would.  Looking across the windblown grass Sorath began to speak.
	"I want to see the world," he intoned, "I want to see far away places, I want to live under the sun."
	"You know what that means," Varir said.
	"Yes," he said, "But I am not afraid.  For last night my mother spoke to me in a dream.  Something that has not occurred since I met you."
	"Then we shall leave," she replied, "Everything is moving to the king's castle, even you.  It is then we shall go."
	And so they started to plan.  Once again into darkness Sorath descended, knowing that his father would soon be down to initiate the move.  By day Varir helped the king to organise the move and by night she planned their escape.  But their plans came to nought.
	Varir stood on the battlements of the castle, watching the last few wagons trundle through the main gate.  It was sunset and the last golden motes of light shone through the autumn leaves.  They planned to leave tonight and take the steward with them, forcibly if they must for he was still loyal to Sorath's father.  She couldn't call him king, not in her heart.  She was ashamed of her part in that incident, of her greed and desire for power.  It was strange, her desire for power had gone completely since she had met Sorath.  She shook herself out those dark thoughts, gathered up the robes and ran down the stairs into the courtyard.  Across the courtyard the lord was mounting his horse.  His soldiers were waiting for him to lead them onto the king's castle.  Not wanting to see him tonight Varir ducked behind a black wagon with large red letters scrawled on it and ran into the castle.
	When she entered the corridor she realised something was wrong.  A soft sobbing was emanating from the cell.  The steward was huddled in the corner crying and Sorath was no where to be seen.
	"Lord king is that you," he cried, "Please help me."
	"No gentle steward," she said, "It is I Varir, what is wrong, where is Sorath?"
	"The king has taken him," he replied, "As for me the king left me here to rot.  No old man, he said, I won't show you the way out.  If you want to leave find the way yourself."
	"And you cannot", Varir said as she stood him up.
	"No," he said, "I know as far as the kitchen but no farther.  And there is no-one to ask now."
	"Come I will lead you."
	Through the darkened castle's corridors they scrambled.  The steward surprisingly agile for such an old, blind man.  Varir realised where Sorath was.  That black wagon, before she had paid no attention.  But she had read the red letters, 'Danger, wild animals'.  She left the steward in the stable and rode out after the wagon.  It couldn't have got far for the lord was still mustering his soldiers and servants in the courtyard.  He called to her but she ignored him, concentrating solely on rescuing her friend.  There it was, just around the first bend under the trees.  She rose in the stirrups and looked behind her.  Some sixth sense had roused the lord and he was hot on her heels, his army and servants behind him.  Varir knew then that they would have to face him.
	She wielded her sword at the lock, the driver stunned at the sudden commotion behind him.  The lord was screaming in rage, something about dangerous animals.  The driver tried to harry on the horses just as the lock broke.  Varir leaped onto the speeding wagon, threw a robe into the cage and the driver into the road.  She pulled the wagon over and got into the dark cage.  Sorath sat in the darkest corner pulling on the robe.  She could feel his fear and her compassion for him grew.  She could almost hear the lord's vicious voice and feel his harsh hands hauling Sorath into the darkened cell once more.
	The king wheeled his horse around to face the pair.  His face was red with rage and his jaw was clenched.  Varir locked eyes with him, staring defiantly.  Sorath beside her stood as tall as he could and found strength standing up to this tyrant.
	"Why have you released this dangerous monster," he demanded of Varir.
	"Dangerous monster?" Varir intoned, "Sorath is no dangerous monster.  If he were to hurt you I wouldn't stop him though for you have treated him like he were lower than an insect on your dogs back.  He is your son, your heir yet it was you that made him this way.  You created the monster that stands before you, yet you have failed for his soul is as pure as the most noble knight of old."
	A murmur arose in the gathering crowd at this proclamation.  A disturbance had occurred towards the back of the crowd, under the darkening trees.  But Varir and the king didn't notice, he was too busy trying to deny his fatherhood.
	"My son!" he snorted, "I have never had a wife nor a son, and certainly not an ugly creature such as this.  He is obviously some deformed creature springing from some weak and ugly whore, some result of a dalliance with a snake."
	For a second Sorath looked as though he was going to speak but the disturbance had reached the king.  A strong voice reached through the crowd.  It was the steward following his little master who walked through the circle of the lord's soldiers.
	"He is the king's son," the brave steward called out to the crowd, "For I saw it myself before blindness took me."
	"You'd believe a blind old man over me, your king," he scoffed.
	"I may be a blind old man," the steward said, "But I was once a great knight, the last of the Draconis knights.  Ancient law states that knights of the Draconis cannot lie, and I am still bound by that law."
	And with that the steward showed the brand on his withered chest, the one that marked him as a knight of the Draconis and the people believed him.  The king grew into a towering rage and drew his sword.  He would kill everyone here before he would let his people know how evil he was.  With that Sorath spoke.
	"Father, you slew my mother, disfigured me and denied my existence for almost 18 years.  You imprisoned me and tortured me through perpetual darkness, hunger and loneliness.   Now I am shown the world, light and air.  Tonight I was to leave, yet I would have remained your prisoner if you had asked.  But you spoke of my mother like she was a common slut.  She is a beautiful and noble person and her spirit lives on.  We shall leave tonight for not only do I want to see the world, I want to see if other men's souls are as dark as yours'."
	"You will get no where in the world, you monster," the king said.  But he couldn't look Sorath in the eye; the young ones defiance scored his soul.  Then he turned on the steward.  "You shall pay for this old man," he sneered, "Draconis knight or not you have failed me, your master."
	His horse reared as he pulled sharply on the reins.  Whirling on the blind and stumbling steward he brought his sword down.  It plunged through the ancient knight's chest, through his scar and into his fluttering heart.
	Sorath ran forward, cradling his steward, as best he could, in his awkward arms.  Tears ran openly down his face.  The steward in his last dying breath whispered to Sorath, and in that moment some power allowed everyone to hear his words.
	"Little lord," he whispered, "I failed you, but now I see.  I have redeemed myself.  Please don't be sad, I have lived far beyond my years.  Live well little lord, find your truth."
	And with the gentle knight's death a rage grew in Sorath.  But yet he couldn't hate.  Contempt yes, pity yes but not hate.  However hate had been deeply ingrained in Varir and it came easily to her.  She drew her sword but a gentle hand restrained her.  It's unwieldy claws digging into her arm.
	"No," Sorath spoke, "This is not the time.  Something tells me that this is not the time.  His people know how evil he is; they have seen it with their own eyes.  We leave tonight, one day we will return."
	With that they left.  They rode into the night and with every step Sorath marvelled at the beauty of the world.  For many months they travelled the world and together they saw all climates.  They saw lakes and rivers; they sailed the oceans and saw the great expanses of ice.  But of all the wonderful places in the world it was the mist-shrouded mountains that Sorath most loved.  He loved the feeling of being high up in the clouds, almost like flying.  He also loved the seclusion and Varir knew this, but she wasn't surprised, still people shunned him.
Try as they might, they couldn't hide his appearance.  To the people he was a monster and he scared them, no matter how gentle he was.  If only these people had seen him when they left his father's tyranny, Varir thought.  Since then the air and light had brightened his sallow skin and a glow had come into his purple eyes.  His body was lean but no longer the skeleton it had once been.  And over these months she had begun to love him.  She saw beauty in his stature, his glittering eyes and skin that seemed to hold all the possible shades of green in the world and beyond.  His physical faults appeared to fade into the background and Varir had begun to see his soul, just as over those last few months she had begun to see everyone's soul.  But she couldn't tell him this; she was still ashamed of herself for being unable to do this earlier. 
Sorath lived up to his promise to see the people of the world.  He saw the souls of men and all he saw was darkness.  In only the youngest children did he see purity of spirit.  But although the darkness prevailed they couldn't ignore injustice and true evil.  In those dark moments Sorath learned to fight and he and Varir protected the ordinary folk.  For in the human race Sorath saw a possibility of light.  Yet the darkness was too great for him and he grew dispirited.  No where in his soul did he want to be human. He had fulfilled his vow and found his answers; men were dark, some better, some worse than his father.  So the decision was made, they would return to his father's kingdom.
As they walked through the king's lands all they felt was darkness and dissension.  The peasants that toiled the soil were angry for the king had worked them hard.  They had no wealth or possessions and even their freedom was under threat.  They had found out how the kingship had been obtained and everyone wanted that power.  Sorath's return fuelled the revolution that was brewing.  But it was Varir that became the champion of the people.  They knew how she had killed the seemingly immortal previous king and it was she who was remembered to have faced down the present king.  No matter how much she tried to tell the truth about those events they wouldn't listen nor would they accept Sorath as a human equal to them.
A crowd of commoners gathered around them, braying for blood.  The heat and smell of so many people oppressed their bodies and the darkness oppressed their souls.  All the people wanted was power and revenge.  All Varir could feel was sadness, horror and depression.
The king had heard of their coming and had gathered his armies outside his castle.  However even there, in the ranks there was discord.
"So you have returned son," the king sneered, "Did you find your truth?  Are men's souls truly as dark as mine.  Or have you come with an army of your own to replace me."
"No father, I do not want your throne though I can't say the same for anyone else here," Sorath spoke from beneath his cowled robe.  "Though I can answer your question.  Men's souls are dark, some more than you."
"And what does that tell you, my son," he said.
"That I am glad I am the way I am," Sorath said, throwing his hood back.  "I've no want to be thought of as human, be thought of as one like you."
"If all you see is darkness in men's souls and loathe it so much why do you travel with one," the king thundered, pointing at Varir.
"She is different," Sorath shouted, "she has changed and continues to.  Power and possessions are not all she thinks about.  She accepted me and looked through my appearance to my soul, and I love her for that."
"But yet she is human," the king said, "Can she truly accept you?  You say that humans can't do that.  But you seem human, can you accept her if you hate humans so much?  Could you be human to gain her acceptance? "
"I would rather be a lizard than a human if I had the choice between my halves," Sorath shouted, "even if it meant losing her.  I cannot stand seeing death reflected in the eyes of the humans that surround me."
Behind the king a great storm was brewing.  From the west it came, a great cloud with many colours swirling beneath it.  The sun was setting, casting an eerie light across the scene.  Almost from the air itself came a soft yet powerful female voice.
"You have no interest in being human son?" said she, "Would you truly choose to be a common lizard over humankind?"
"Mother," Sorath whispered, "I would."
"Even if you lose forever Varir?" his mother asked.
"Yes", replied Sorath.
"Then release yourself from your fathers curse," she declared.
And with that Sorath understood.  He looked at his father pale with shock and saw truly the curse that was inflicted upon him as a child.  He looked up at his mother, a spirit emerging resplendent from the cloud.  On golden wings she hovered above them, the king seeing not only her true self but also the beautiful woman he had once known.  Sorath closed his eyes and in that moment Varir lost all want for power.  The people all around felt that they had lost their hero and all they wanted was the power for themselves.  Across the courtyard Varir rushed while the commoners and soldiers mobbed the king.  His last visions being that of his son, breaking his curse and becoming his true self.
While the people fought over power Sorath became his true self.  The human condition faded away and he was filled with calm.  He grew to fit his hands and feet and became the magnificent creature he was meant to be.  A massive dragon, green with spectacular red wing membrane.  Powerful yet full of grace and gentleness.  He brought his muzzle down, his eyes glittering with triumph and happiness.  Varir knew she would lose him and she couldn't lose him without telling him that she loved him.
As she ran towards him she shouted out.
"Wait, don't go, not yet.  Please Sorath, I will go anywhere, any way with you.  I cannot lose you, just say how and I will do it.  I love you and I have for many months.  I couldn't say anything before because I was ashamed that I couldn't feel that way earlier."
And she touched him on the muzzle.  Free of hate, lust and greed she stood there.  Feeling for once her true self she understood her power.  It was with that touch, a touch free of the repulsion she had once felt that freed her.  In that shimmering golden light she shed her human self and became the soul that had been hidden for many generations.  There she stood, a reflection of her beloved.  Night blue scales shimmered in the setting light, bronze and red wings flapping in unison.  Though they only had eyes for each other, below them the humans were fighting.  The lone survivor gaining the kingship, the power over a land empty of people.
Away they flew, three dragons, into the darkness of night.  Into the wilderness that they both loved.  Riding the wind, free and happy, his mother leading the way.  And they lived happily ever after, in a land of rainbows and starlight, eternal day and eternal night.