ORIGIN

Life had been rather still since his encounter with the leopard. He had helped ease the fungi off of Ghanyarah's face, and since then, the pain had never come again. He lived in fear that the mushrooms would suddenly sprout from his cheek once again, but they never did. He was cautious, too, of allowing anybody near his precious face. The scutes had since healed over the wound, but the flesh had been disrupted, large gaping chunks sinking in the bone. The skin between the shattered scales was milky white, and the scales themselves were bent, broken and dented. A reminder of the affliction the monkey had cursed him with. Where was that damn monkey now? Had he gotten bigger, just like Ghanyarah, or was he still a scrawny little demon?

Then there was the issue of names. After meeting Arkrael, he had thought long and hard on the subject. He hadn't even thought about naming himself when he emerged from his glistening pink chrysalis. It lay somewhere far away, in Polaris. He was sure its shards carried a reminder of his prior paradise, and he wondered if they contained the answer to his wondering, too. But Ghanyarah was loathe to leave this place that he had called home. The mist concealed him, welcomed and protected him, and the humidity offered him comfort. There was a near constant buzzing that emanated near the heart of the swamp that the lizard avoided, but other than that, the small sounds were welcome against an otherwise maddening silence.

Today, Ghanyarah made a journey away from his favored tree. He had picked out a low-lying limb that made it easy for him to get to, but was still high enough that he could watch over the surrounding vegetation. But today, he needed to go on a journey of self discovery. His days consisted mostly of sunning himself beneath the artificial lights, in the breaks of the the leafy canopy above, and hunting those small rats that made up his meals. But he needed to know who he was. He needed his name.

Traveling away from his tree, the komodo dragon spotted something that stood out against the rest of the jungle plants. It was taller than the trees surrounding it - he could see it through the sparse trunks ahead of him. Its top was shrouded in white mist. The dragon found it intriguing, resolving to head towards it. Maybe it would hold the answer to his question. Ghanyarah flicked his tongue, tasting the air. He paused and steeled himself, holding in his water in preparation for the long journey ahead.

His steps were long and calculated. The dragon's body seemed to curl left and right as he took his lumbering steps, truly reptilian in nature. He had grown into his reptile form, without the presence of non-reptile Gembounds to influence him, the dragon had truly become the essence of his species. His long claws dug into the mud, and he relished the feeling of moist leaf litter beneath his padded feet. Occasionally, his forked tongue would flicker out from his lips again, continuously testing the air for scents. If any strange smell were to appear, he would pause and inspect it before continuing. Thankfully, he seemed to be the only Gembound making the journey towards the massive tree today. It towered over him still, and his pink eyes would flit up to the tree every now and then, reminding him of his goal. Something about it called to him. Something drew him towards the tree, as if its roots crawled beneath the ground of the jungle room and dared him to follow.

The mist felt even thicker over here. The dragon's mind reeled, trying over and over again to think on a name, but nothing stood out to him. They were all words that were parts of sentences, things that he said to other Gembounds that already had a meaning. He lacked the creativity to come up with anything himself. Why was it so hard to think of a name? Was he meant to make one for himself, or did he need to wait for something to give him one? He had been told that a name was something that came with emergence from the chrysalis, but the dragon had not wanted to emerge. He'd wanted to stay in his chamber of safety forever, and was wrongfully dumped onto the ground when his chrysalis decayed and shattered around him. Had he lost his opportunity for a calling?

As he walked, he could feel the moisture in the air and the mist all swirling around him. It was starting to get harder to see, even for a creature like him that used it to hide. But he needn't hide from anybody, not now. So the dragon attempted to pull the water into himself, in an attempt to dispel the mist.

The mist all rolled towards him, vague white fronds brushing up against his grey and white scales and dissipating beneath his skin. He felt a sudden weight added to him, and the mist slowly faded away, revealing his path. The lizard waited and flicked his tongue again. He could see now; there was still nobody there, and the tree was in sight between the towering trunks of those surrounding him. The dragon moved forward, his head even with his spine.

After several moments of silent trekking, he made it. The trees around him began to part, and the foliage became sparse until a large clearing opened up from the jungle plants. He stepped into the glade, and there he saw the massive tree - the Heart. Its gnarled roots all twisted around its thick base, reaching out and curling around themselves. They dove beneath the surface and popped out of the ground again, writhing and frozen in place. He tilted his head back, but the top of the tree was shrouded in thick white mist. He wanted to know what the top looked like, but the dragon knew he wouldn't be able to dispel that mist. That was a far greater undertaking than he was accustomed to. He shook his head and looked at the twisting mass of roots again. It was time to know who he was.

The dragon made his way, crossing the open glade. Being without cover rendered him uncomfortable, his eyes darting back and forth in case some predator came lunging from the edge of the clearing. Nothing did; he was alone, left to his own devices. Still, he only felt relieved upon reaching the tree. It could swallow him whole if it wanted, casting a massive shadow all around its thick trunk. The artificial lighting of the jungle room, though diffused by the mist, still cast a warm golden illumination about the tree. The dragon slowly approached it, hesitating before speaking out loud, "Tree. What is my name?" He asked. Nothing came but silence. The lizard tilted his head and lashed his tail. "Tree! What is my name? Do you know?" The dragon demanded, but there was silence still. Irritation was beginning to grow inside of him. After long silence stretched on, the dragon shook his head and hissed. "Answer me!"

Post-Roll Edit:
As he spoke, a sudden ice cold ripped from his body. The sensation was frigid, rippling down his body, to his toes, to his tail. It was sharp and commanding. Spires of ice suddenly exploded from his back, glistening points building from the moisture until they culminated into a spiky mass of white ice. The points carried down his spine until they lay flat against the base of his tail. He jumped, turning his head to see what he'd done.

Oh no! This was just like the mushrooms! Something mysterious, glistening and white sprouted from his skin. Seeing it, the lizard winced and scowled, desperately twisting his head around to try and get a good look at it. Except it was different - while it was icy cold and stinging, it wasn't the same kind of piercing pain as the fungi. Blood didn't seem from open wounds in his back - in fact, there were no wounds. The ice accumulated on the surface of his skin, held there by magic and frozen molecules. But the ice was beginning to bite at him. Panicked, the lizard willed it away, and so it went - the ice began to melt, wet droplets rolling off its surface and dousing the lizard until the crystal white points had dissipated away. Once they were gone, the biting cold vanished as well, leaving nothing but a chill along his spine.

The dragon remained still until the ice had melted, and he inspected his back again. No wounds, or sores, or broken scales. Had he done this, or was it the tree? He turned to the great tree, narrowing his eyes. "Was it you?" The lizard asked accusingly, but still there was silence. Not much he could do about it. Nothing he could learn about it. He sighed, frustrated. He was a fool to think that the tree could help him, it hadn't even a mind of its own! So why had he been drawn to it in the first place, if it wasn't going to give him the answer he sought?

Maybe it just didn't know who he was, either. Maybe he had to tell it. The dragon huffed and hurried towards the roots. He clambered up one of the twisting roots, following its curling mass until it brought him to the gargantuan base of the tree. There, he propped himself up against it, standing on two legs while his front legs steadied himself against its bark. With one clawed hand against the tree, Ghanyarah began to carve into the bark with his claw. It was tough, like scraping at rock - but after working hard against it, he had managed to draw an immensely rudimentary scribble of what he perceived himself to be. Ice. Pointy ice. That was him, wasn't it? The tree had seen it, and now he knew that it was him. After leaving his mark, the dragon rested his padded hand against the scribble and pressed the side of his face against the bark. "It is me. Do you know who I am?" He asked. He ached to know. He ached to have a thing for himself, a name to call his own. "I was in the stone too long. I did not want to leave, and when I did, it punished me for staying too long. It made another animal chase me. It did not give me my name. Give me a name, please."

The lizard spoke quietly. His words were for the tree, and only the tree. Still, there was nothing in response but the quiet shuddering of leaves in a gentle wind and distant bird calls. He sighed slowly and backed away, landing his feet on the twisting roots again. The dragon turned away and found a comfortable place upon one of the roots, close to the heart of the tree. There, he laid down and waited. His eyes closed, and eventually the lizard had drifted off to sleep.

His mind drifted to a far off place, the lizard left his body exposed in the heart of the glade atop the writhing roots of the tree. First, there was blackness in his mind's eye. His thoughts were skewed into something unrecognizable, then there was nothing. For a long time there was nothing, until an image suddenly appeared to him. A sensation. He was back in the chrysalis, remembering the sensation of its comfort. It embraced him, quelled his worries. It kept him warm and safe, assuring him that nothing of the outside world would break into his pleasant bastille. But it wouldn't last long, and he remembered how it suddenly cracked and groaned, shattering apart under the pressure of decay. He was suddenly brought into the world, met with darkness and coldness. He remembered the cold. It permeated his skin, it was a part of him. He looked around for the cat, knowing that it should be there. It wasn't.

Where was he? He was back in Cetus, with the mist and the tall trees, but he was still small and so afraid. There were suddenly other animals around him, but they were just walking by. Their bodies, he recognized them. A wolf, a lynx, a horse, but they had different faces. They were all mismatched, and they were faces he had seen before, only they didn't belong to their bodies. They didn't even pay him any mind. The creatures all walked past him, shedding nary a glance down at the little lizard. He was merely an observer... and he listened. From the silence around him there were words, but they weren't voices. They felt more like thoughts made into words, construed as whispers, but the creatures around him weren't talking. The words were broken and unsure, compiled of all the different sounds that made them.

He struggled to pick out words he knew in the cacophony of noise. He looked around as churning legs moved past him, trying to find creatures with faces that matched, trying to recognize sentences, trying to find meaning in all of the sound. Then suddenly, one that made sense. The monkey. In the midst of the crowd he saw the monkey, bright gleaming eyes and transparent skin and gaping jaws fitted with sharp teeth. His cheek burned and his heart stumbled in its rapid beat. He couldn't be here, lest the monkey chase him down and curse him once more. He tried to turn and run, but he wasn't moving fast enough. His legs were sluggish, like tar clung to him and weighed him down. Fear fizzled inside of him. He turned and looked behind him, and the monkey lunged, screaming. The komodo dragon faltered and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the monkey away - and when he opened his eyes again, there was nothing. No moving legs. No muffled, makeshift words. Only silence.

It was gone again, the thoughts that made strange vocal sounds; he'd fallen victim to the fear, and lost what could have made him... him. It was only him now. He was met with a feeling of helplessness and dismay. What would become of him, if he constantly found himself in solitude? How could he go on like this, without a hint at who he was? He needed somebody to help him, anybody...

The lizard waited, and slowly the moving creatures returned. They emerged from the bushes, one by one, returning to their steady stride as they all moved past him. Seeing them, he felt a small bubble of relief. He watched them all closely, but the feeling of foreboding soon settled in him as well. Their legs moved past him and he sought out their faces. He recognized her, Arkrael, the black peppered wolf as she walked past him. She looked at him and smiled. The lynx was there with its face, but it didn't try to chase him. There was a moose and a deer and their faces belonged too. He would try to walk towards them, finding shelter in their moving legs, but they evaded him. Eventually, among the crowd, the monkey was there too.

The fear gripped him, freezing his legs. He watched the monkey, and the monkey didn't move. It only stared. If he turned and ran, the monkey would chase him, he knew this. He was afraid, because he didn't want the monkey to chase him and for everybody to go away again. The dragon found his heartbeat, and he waited. Mentally he willed the monkey away. While all the others walked around him, continuing their paths, the monkey crouched there in the unfathomed distance. The incoherent words as malformed thoughts grew stronger and louder. There was something in them that stood out to him, begging for his attention, but he feared that if he took his mind off the monkey it would lunge at him. Yet... he couldn't let it go. He needed to know. He needed to listen!

His attention wavered between the monkey and the words. Whispers, speech, voices that laughed and sighed. Ghaaa... The monkey almost moved, but he willed it away from him. He focused, and he listened. Ghan..yarr... The image of the monkey flickered, as if it wasn't even there. The dragon held his breath and steeled himself, desperately reaching for the answer. Ghanyarah... Ghanyarah... Ghanyarah... The voices suddenly became clear. He listened, and he heard it, a crystal thought resonating through his mind. The monkey stared at him still, and then it too got up and passed him by. He was left with only a word that echoed through his dream.

Ghanyarah.

The dragon's body jolted in shock and his eyes peeled open. It was a sensation of something suddenly hitting him, but as he raised his head and looked around, he found nothing there. He was awake now, back where he had fallen asleep on the tree's twisted root. His mind was dizzy, but it recognized something branded into its fringes, a word. Ghanyarah. They had spoken it to him, all of them, all the Gembounds he had ever seen. The lynx, the leopard, the wolf, the horse, the moose. Their presences were but a twisted vessel to deliver the answer he had sought all along.

Ghanyarah rose from the curled root and glanced back at the tree. His scribble remained inscribed in the tough bark, isolated in the diffused light and the mist. "Ghanyarah." He spoke, and his voice trembled. "I know now." For a moment, he felt his voice giving away, but he shook his head and turned his gaze back to the edge of the glade. "Ghanyarah is stronger than fear." He hissed. Fear he had to endure. Fear he had to defeat. And he had. The lizard shook his head and clambered from the root. He didn't shed a second glance at the tree. It had given him what he wanted; he battled through terror and came out of it stronger. Now it was time to make the name truly his. Now it was time to outlast fear and become great.

The komodo dragon left the tree behind, disappearing back into the undergrowth.