Zvii
Legacy Name: Zvii

Can I help?" a chipper baby dragon asked as he watched his father. The older dragon stopped at the small question and turned to his young son, smile wide and beaming.

"Not yet, little one. It's still too dangerous for you," he said, patting Zivi on the head, his tail reverting from a large spear back to its normal form. At his father's response Zivi huffed and turned away, feigning anger. His father laughed. "You'll be old enough soon, Mishivi. Don't rush yourself into maturity," he said as he sat down next to his son.

Zivi did hate being so young. He wanted to be older, he wanted to learn to fight. It wasn't out of malice of course, he merely wanted to protect others like his father and mother did. "I just want to help people," he said, turning to his father. Zivi's father smiled at the little dragon.

And you will get your chance, but right now you should just have fun and enjoy your childhood." Zivi sighed, but smiled.

I guess you're right," he replied as he got up.

However, if you want, there's nothing wrong with some friendly practice," his father replied. At that the little dragon smiled.

You're on dad!

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Those were the good days, but like all good times, they were not to last forever. The night that everything changed came without warning, like a suffocating mist from nowhere...

Zivi felt the tears stream down his face, leaving stains like dried rivers in their path. His mother and father smiled at him one last time before the sharp blade sent them over the barrier to the Afterworld. The echos of his own screams deafened him as the blood seeped across the floor towards him, licking at his small feet even as he scrambled to get away from it.

They're gone, they're gone, they're gone...

He felt like his heart would burst....they were gone...and he was all alone in a world that could obviously care less about him. He wanted to go with them, he wanted this new pain to stop, but no. Instead of sending him to his parent's company, they turned away merely taking an interest in the precious objects scattered about the home.

As they left him bound and alone in the small room, Zivi lay on the ground and wailed, the pain in his chest worse than any he had ever felt, the stinging from his tears worse than any cut he had ever received. As the little dragon looked about the room, the last fragments of his world crumbling he saw a chance for salvation, the large scimitar still hanging proudly on the wall, the weapon that had instilled the blood of the weapon into his family. He had been told of its dangers...he had been told never to touch it, but there was nothing behind those words now. There was nothing behind anything anymore.

As the baby dragon crawled toward the sword he choked back the fear. He was going to where his mother and father were after this. There was nothing for him to be afraid of. When he lay on the floor beneath the shimmering sword he cut away the rope that bound him, the spikes of his tail making short work of the fibers. With a few final tears he hoisted himself up the wall and plucked the weapon from its place of honor.

The metal sang slightly as it scraped against the hooks that held it. As it fell into Zivi's hands he nearly toppled from its weight, but righted himself quickly and looked at the cursed blade. His reflection show the slight nervousness that still lingered inside him, but he did not understand how the weapon was as dangerous as he had been told. The only odd effect was a slight tingling in his palms...but the tingling quickly turned to brilliant pain.

Zivi nearly shrieked at this new pain, but his voice wouldn't come to him. He tried to toss the sword away, but it remained firmly anchored his hand, glowing slightly, small shadowy projections slowly coming from the aura. The baby dragon felt the tears flow a new as the projections slithered up his arms, stopping for a moment at his chest before plunging through his skin.

Zivi had never felt physical pain like this, it was as if his heart was being pulled out of him, but it was not his heart he saw being pulled from his body. Zivi's eyes widened infinitely as a small orb was pulled out of him, the last attempts at his body to retain the glowing orb failing. The sword calliously ripped his soul from his small body in that moment, the loud snap as it separated from him as awful as the crunches made by the weapon as it devoured his soul. However, Zivi did not die. Not yet.

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They turned around quickly at the sound of snarling behind them. All they saw was a small dragon, eyes glowing and bladed arms glistening as he rushed at them. There was no time to think as they flew across the barrier to the Afterworld, joining the ones they had sent there not long ago. There was no fighting back, only red, and then....silence....

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And thus, Zivi was bound to the scimitar, becoming a part of it, and it becoming a part of him. Once the scene was discovered, and the sword found bloodied on the ground a necromancer was called. With precision and skill he called back Zivi's spirit from its place in limbo. He could not move beyond the barrier to the Afterworld because of his attachment to the sword. Thanks to the necromancer Zivi became a viable weapon spirit. His only passage to the Afterworld is if someone were to take his place...