Erebus
(#44078264)
Oh Shadowbinder, forgive me, for I love him.
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Water.
Male Wildclaw
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6 m
Wingspan
7.15 m
Weight
547.48 kg
Genetics
Shadow
Python
Python
Shadow
Morph
Morph
Shadow
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Wildclaw
Max Level
STR
115
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
76
INT
5
VIT
17
MND
5
Biography
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Erebus The God of Darkness 
mate
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In the dark there is no sin, light only brings the fear. Nothing to corrupt the eyes, there is no vision here. At first you may find it strange, but do not go away; the darkness holds a power that you won’t find in the day.
– Unknown |
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"'Erebus.' She whispered my name, and my ears perceived it immediately. They were sharp; they had to be, for I, the god of Darkness, was blind."
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I
Erebus ● 
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In the beginning— The Shadowbinder whispered to the night, coaxing its very essence into her claws. She melded it with the vapors breathed by the damp forest, gave it the strength of brambles and thorns. A form modeled on the hunters in the great rainforest to the north. A Wildclaw, nearly indistinguishable from the deepest darkness. “Erebus.” She whispered his name, and his ears perceived it immediately. They were sharp; they had to be, for Erebus, the god of Darkness, was blind. The Shadowbinder grinned to herself. She loved the irony in her new servant’s nature, for Erebus had been created to guide dragons lost in the Tangled Wood. He would ensure that his mistress’ peace was preserved, that her divine dealings remained concealed from mortal eyes. And thus it was. Occasionally dragons disappear in the Tangled Wood. They do not always come back—but those who blunder into the Foxfire Bramble may find themselves aided by a dark, blindfolded dragon. Floating candles herald his approach, and then he steps forward noiselessly, his dragging robe failing to make even the faintest sound against the forest floor. “But do not fear,” say the erstwhile travelers, “for Erebus is gentle. You need only follow him, and he will lead you out of the darkness...” “What if we’re not lucky enough to meet Erebus? Are there other guides we can rely on?” “Nay, youngster. There are no other guides, or if there are, to us they are not known. There is only Erebus...” The God of Darkness, striding silent, enigmatic, and alone...until— 
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"The 'Dark God'—who was he, really?"
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—now. The darkness closed in on Hyperion. He told himself it was silly that he was feeling nervous all of a sudden; after all, he had been here before. He remembered the stories other dragons had shared with him, and he wrapped them around himself like a comforting blanket. Deep inside, his fluttering heart slowed. He had encountered the God of Darkness before—and been similarly aided by him. He knew the stories were true. He took another step into the all-concealing shadows... Hyperion thought back to his own experiences. Like other travelers, he’d gotten lost in the Foxfire Bramble. The place was a conundrum to navigate, and it was impossible to fly out, for the great thorns locked together overhead in an impenetrable roof. Casting magic to remove them was dangerous: igniting them could turn the woods into a boiling cauldron; severing them could bring the whole mess crashing down. The only recourse was to keep moving until you found the way out—or someone to guide you to safety. Hyperion, too, had been deeply relieved when Erebus had led him out of the forest. He’d never been happier to see sunlight shining ahead, and had raced towards it as if greeting a lover. After the relief had passed, however, curiosity had set in. The “Dark God”—who was he, really? Now here Hyperion was, bumbling around in the darkness again—on purpose. He pushed away the unpleasant thought that the God of Darkness might not decide to aid him again. After all, what kind of fool lost himself on purpose? He didn’t know how long he wandered, but it didn’t seem as long a time as before. He turned around...and there he was. Light from the floating candles outlined the Dark God’s form. “Hail and well met!” Hyperion greeted him. He had been rather frazzled last time, and Erebus hadn’t seemed impressed by his awkward rambling. He figured a more formal greeting would be better received. Silence. The shadowy Wildclaw remained still, seemingly awaiting more words. Silently, Hyperion cursed that blindfold—how was he to know what this dragon was feeling? “I really must thank you for last time. You were so helpful!” Wait, beginning to ramble again. Another inward curse. Hyperion gathered himself and added, “I mean, ah, you were most—” “Again.” The word was said in a deep, expressive sigh. Hyperion got the strong sense that if he could see Erebus’ face, the Dark God would be rolling his eyes. As he tried to think of what to say next, Erebus turned away, beckoning with one claw. “Follow me,” he murmured. He was obviously intent on leading Hyperion back to the forest’s edge. Hyperion gave a start. “Wait, I don’t need to go back. I was looking for you!” Another pause. Without turning, Erebus asked, “Why?” “I don’t know.” Hyperion hadn’t really thought about it, or considered that his motives would be questioned so bluntly. He’d just assumed that Erebus would be...feeling sociable, he supposed? “You were very kind and helpful last time. I’d probably still be lost here if you hadn’t aided me. I don’t think I remembered to thank you properly, Erebus...Uh, it is Erebus, isn’t it?” And now the dark dragon turned. He nodded somberly. To Hyperion’s surprise, he spoke further: “The Shadowbinder created me to guide travelers out of the forest. It is my duty. Travelers should not stay long. “Now come.” And he turned away again, this time not waiting to see if Hyperion followed. Hyperion went after him, of course. It looked like the meeting was over, but he was determined to try again soon. |
II
Meet Again ● 
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"Was it morning, twilight, or deepest night? In the Foxfire Bramble, it didn’t matter; the shadows made everything timeless."
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III
True Love ●
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Over the next few months, Hyperion made more forays into the Foxfire Bramble. He now moved fearlessly, ignoring the thorns snatching at his silken clothes. Erebus always appeared soon enough, seeming both exasperated and resigned. He initially attempted to lead Hyperion out of the woods, stolidly resisting efforts to draw him into conversation. As time passed, however, and the bright Wildclaw returned again and again, the Dark God found himself similarly intrigued. “Lightbringer,” he said one day, “why do you keep coming here?” Was it morning, twilight, or deepest night? In the Foxfire Bramble, it didn’t matter; the shadows made everything timeless. It was just the two Wildclaws striding side by side past the thorns—unhurriedly now, for Hyperion knew that Erebus would always reappear to guide him, and Erebus knew Hyperion would soon come looking for him again. Hyperion ducked his head in embarrassment. He was called “Lightbringer” for as a special servant of the Lightweaver, he had the power to manifest light from his very scales. He glowed like a lamp in the darkness, and his radiance softened the sharp edges of the thorns and the leaves. “I thought you could use some company,” he said with a playful smile. Now that he was more familiar with Erebus, he was no longer inclined to ramble. Erebus rather preferred it that way. “But I do have company.” “You do?” Hyperion was a little stumped. But then again, he figured even a place this dreary would have other living things in it. Perhaps some wildlife? Erebus nodded. “Would you like to meet her?” “Her?” “Ah...of course, my friend,” Hyperion replied. His expression remained optimistic, but he couldn’t hold back a pang of disappointment. Erebus turned and led him down a trail—one that looked no different from any of the others. Hyperion followed, now just a bit subdued. Their walk was silent this time—a fact that Erebus, with his sensitive ears, immediately noticed. But he thought now was not the time to address the matter. Eventually, the brambles opened up into a small hollow, where the dragons’ feet sank into marshy ground. The darkness was less dense here, and everything was bathed in a gentle gray glow. It was so much easier to see now. Hyperion noticed a shelter to one side, a small, compact construct at the base of an enormous tree. Inside, he glimpsed some comfortable furniture in deep, subdued colors. Before he could look more closely, however, he heard a soft splashing noise. He turned and saw a pool. It was as gray and murky as a brewing storm—and as he watched in trepidation, the glaucous surface heaved. “Erebus...” Hyperion backed up. “Something’s in the water!” To his amazement, the Dark God laughed—a soft chuckle, surprisingly warm from such an ominous-looking character. “Yes. She is my companion.” A sleek head broke the surface. Water and mud surged, and before Hyperion could cry out, a great beast sprang up from the lake. Her red eyes gleamed through a curtain of weeds and hair. Erebus’ companion was a kelpie. Hyperion sucked in a breath. “But kelpies are dangerous! I don’t think—” “Fear not,” breathed Erebus, and so gentle was his voice that Hyperion’s nervousness melted away. The Dark God crooned reassuringly, “Her name is Schatten, and she is the kindest of creatures. Wait. Look.” So Hyperion stood his ground as the kelpie drew closer. She smelled of dank water and moss; the scent filled his nostrils till he felt that he was drowning. But he waited, as he had been told. Because he trusted Erebus. He waited, and he dared to look.... The kelpie met his gaze with warm red eyes. She lowered her fearsome head and nibbled delicately at Hyperion’s claws. It tickled, and he found himself laughing in delight. “You are a beauty!” he gushed. He said it to Schatten, but he was looking at Erebus as he spoke, and the truth of it shone in his golden eyes. The Dark God felt it even through his blindness. A part of him warmed further to this cheerful, inquisitive dragon, and inside him, more of his misgivings crumbled away.
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| ________ |
"It was our belief, blind and beautiful but badly misplaced, that nearly doomed us."
| ________ |
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Hyperion’s visits to the dark woods become more frequent. It wasn’t long before he gained a companion of his own: a white dove, almost as luminous as he was, who followed him everywhere he went. At times Erebus would find him striding along the forest trails: He would hear the flutter of the white dove’s wings, and then Hyperion would appear, bathed in his pale glow. Or he would stop by his den to rest and the fair Wildclaw would be there, seated by the pond and talking soothingly to Schatten. Erebus no longer minded these visits; in fact, he rather looked forward to them.... They told themselves they were only friends at first. That they only wanted to learn from each other and enjoy each other’s company. Indeed, they were as different as night and day; a stranger, looking at them, would be surprised to learn that they could care so deeply about each other. But care they did—and in time, “my friend”, their term of endearment for each other, blossomed into “my love.” There was a reason they were not open about their relationship: They feared that their gods would not understand. “I was created to serve the Shadowbinder,” Erebus sighed one day. “She set me to guard these woods, to lead away any intruders. No one was supposed to come back.” His face, beneath the blindfold, was sad. “No one was supposed to stay.” His worries were clear: He was afraid that his goddess would learn that he’d taken a lover from the Light Flight—a servant of the Lightweaver herself, no less. That she would be angry, and... Hyperion couldn’t speak for the Shadowbinder, but from what he knew of the Lightweaver (which admittedly wasn’t much—for who could truly know the mind of a god?), she always sought truth and wisdom. “Is this wise? Probably not. But this love...It is true love....Isn’t it?” He told himself it was, and so did Erebus. They didn’t know it was certain, but they wanted to believe... It was their belief, blind and beautiful but badly misplaced, that nearly doomed them. The memory was forever seared into Erebus’ mind: One night, as he was returning alone to his den, the woods around his home fell silent, and he heard Schatten scream and dive beneath the lake. Then the Shadowbinder appeared—her darkness absolute, a shape so dark it hurt even Erebus’ blindfolded eyes. The brambles parted around her like water as she descended to the earth. “Goddess. I welcome you.” Erebus bowed low. He spoke calmly, but inside, his mind was racing; surely he hadn’t been found out—?! And then his blood ran cold as the goddess hissed, “You dare continue playing innocent with me, Erebus? You would attempt to bluff your way past me?” “Milady, I assure you, I—” And then the goddess’ wrath smote him, flinging him across the ground. He slammed into a solid wall of brambles, and he cried out as the vicious thorns pierced his hide. “You dare consort with a Light dragon? With our rivals?! You go beyond mere trickery, Erebus—such baseless treachery has no place in Shadow!” And the goddess tore his home apart. The lake where Schatten played, the trees under which Erebus and Hyperion had sat together, and the small den where they’d laughed together, stayed together... In mere minutes, all had been reduced to rubble. But the Shadowbinder was not done. She held out a vast paw, and beneath that shadow, matter itself contorted. With another blast of power, all was crushed to dust. Then, and only then, did the goddess leave. She rose into the air, and the brambles once more locked into place beneath her. A barren, blasted heath was all that remained of Erebus’ home—and Erebus himself sprawled by Schatten’s half-drained lake. He was still alive, but only just—the Shadowbinder hadn’t spared him, instead inflicting the same damage upon him as she had upon his few possessions. Tossing him hither and yon, battering him against the bramble...as if he, too, were just another object. He lay unconscious, his life slowly fading away.... He didn’t know how much time passed until he reawakened. He became aware of a cool mist bathing his skin, and recognized it as rain. Then hotter droplets: tears. Around him the shadows shifted, molding themselves around a familiar, luminous form. Hyperion. “My love,” sobbed the other Wildclaw. The words were enough for Erebus, and he sank back into sleep—but it was in relief this time. |
IV
Blind ● 
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"And away we walked, heading west, towards the twilight uncertainty of—"
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V
Together ● 
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As soon as the Shadowbinder had appeared, Schatten had fled through the trees. It was she who led Hyperion back to her fallen master, helped carry him away to where Hyperion could safely tend him. Near the edge of the Foxfire Bramble, far from the deepest darkness...but also away from the light. Hyperion’s spirit was sore, and not just because of his lover’s injuries—his indiscretions, too, had been discovered by the Lightweaver. The goddess had been more merciful, but not understanding—she had stripped him of much of his authority and then exiled him from his home. Now they were caught between Light and Shadow, and there’d be no mercy from either side. Erebus lay on a pallet of leaves, breathing and thinking deeply. The pain, the fear...It was nearly too much. “I should go back,” he murmured. “Back to the goddess? But she’ll kill you,” Hyperion nearly sobbed. He, too, had lost the protection of his deity, and Erebus’ own pain and fear were mirrored in his eyes. “Stay with me. Please. Don’t go back into the darkness. I nearly lost you...I can’t—” “True...I would have been lost if not for you.” A smile shone, faintly, on Erebus’ face. “You guided me back to the light. To life.” Outside their crude shelter, rain continued falling. That, and a flash of lightning, set the pair to thinking: If they could return to neither Light nor Shadow, then perhaps they could go elsewhere? Seek asylum among other Flights? “Or perhaps,” a small, defiant part within each of them said, “we could return to our homes, submerge ourselves among other dragons. The goddesses won’t expect us to seek refuge right under their noses. They won’t think to look...” A few days later, Erebus was well enough to travel. He murmured words of thanks and nuzzled his lover, praising his healing skills. Hyperion’s crest flattened bashfully. He stammered, “B-but your things...There wasn’t much left when I checked. Before setting out, we need—” “The Shadowbinder destroyed my possessions, that was all. She took nothing from me. I still have you,” Erebus declared, and within himself, Hyperion felt his heart soar. He was more confident as he said, “I was thinking that perhaps...we could head west? I think the terrain will be easier for you to navigate. Maybe we could get help from other dragons. And then we...” Hyperion trailed off. Once again, he hadn’t thought it through.... But Erebus didn’t argue, and instead was waiting expectantly. Confidently. His faith was heartening, and suddenly Hyperion knew: It didn’t matter. As long as they were together, as long as... “We’ll take it slowly,” he promised, and he offered Erebus his arm. The Dark God leaned against him; his kelpie strode at his side, and Hyperion’s dove fluttered over the lovers, cooing softly. The two of them turned their backs against the darkness—and against the light. And away they walked, heading west, towards the twilight uncertainty of—
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| ________ |
"'I have a story I would like to share with you. It’s the story of how I met my husband.'"
| ________ |
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—the future. There are no more stories of Erebus. The Dark God is no longer found in the Foxfire Bramble, and there is no one left to guide travelers to safety. Neither are there tales of the Lightbringer, with his sparkling eyes and gentle laugh. The two of them defied their goddesses, who decreed that they should never be spoken of again. But wise dragons know that just because the stories end, it doesn’t mean the characters can’t keep on living. They can. And they still do... “I have a story I would like to share with you. It’s the story of how I met my husband.” The Wildclaw speaks to the Fae, but he turns slightly as he does so. From among the shadows, another Wildclaw, blindfolded and silent, smiles back. Another day, another dawning. And another story begins. |
VI
The Future [color=#3B2F45● 
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~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users
all edits by other users
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