Sargon #3

A blistering cold wind howled down from the tops of the northern mountains, screeching and moaning with such violence the very trees shuddered and snapped. Their mighty branches splintering like twigs as the wind twisted and pulled at their leaves. The wind raced across the land, heralding, crying, announcing its terrible proclamation.

“Sargon has returned.”

The wind sailed over a raging river and into a sleepy snow-capped village, rattling doors and knocking on windows. It announced its terrible message to all who lived there, except one. The one soul who was buried deep inside the earth against the stone whose awakening had sparked the end of the world.

The wind shifted across the deepest forest and into every glen, spooking the green-eyed forest inhabitants, sending them running for cover.

It slithered along the man-made roads and into the four cities as it bit at the heels of horses and overturned carriages. It tore down the flags marked with the golden hue of the blazing sun.

It twisted around the tops of the mountains in the east, laughing in the face of the great heartless monster; the ruby dragon.

“Sargon the killer has returned.”

Within the heart of the coldest mountain, a figure sat upon an icy throne which was adorned with the skulls of thousands. Upon his head sat a crown of pure silver emblazoned with images of the stars on a cold winter’s night. His armor mirrored ice upon a frozen lake, beautiful to behold, but deadly cold if touched. His features were ageless and sharp; his eyes the color of the night sky. In his left hand, he held stone which pulsed slowly with blue light and in his right, he grasped stone which flickered with an emerald hue. As Sargon stiffly arose from his throne, the entire mountain shook and the cavern trembled.

In a voice so cold it would freeze over hellfire Sargon whispered, “Bring me the Tamer.”

Cackling; a shifting creature made of shadow and fire bowed to Sargon and swiftly and quietly left the throne room. It had completed his mission, the destroyer was free. As it raced back to its master, the shadow creature sizzled in glee melting the nearby ice and snow.

The wind continued to scream long into the night.

“Sargon the destroyer,

Sargon the wicked,

Sargon the terrible,

Sargon the king of the northern mountains has returned.”

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