The Creatures that History Forgot
“Leave my mother alone!” I yelled catching her blade mid sweep with my own. The metal
blades met with a clang that echoed through the hollow cha mber. With both hands I pushed
her blade aside then I raised my blade to her chest but she backed away circling then swung her
blade at my head. I sidestepped then cut her side with a clean well executed swipe. Blood
oozed from the wound as her blade toppled from her hand. She fell to the ground as I turned to
“Mom, are you okay?” I asked as she eyes lit up with pride.
“I am now, Kyzudo, I am now,” she said as everyone stopped to look at us.
“Is that Kyzudo?” they asked each other as they gathered around not wanting to fight their
friends and neighbors any longer.
“Kyzudo, you are alive,” Dabu stated as I nodded.
“And I have my mother’s cure. It is back at the palace. Everything is going to be alright
now?” I stated as my mother waved her tail in a wide arch.
“Yeah I think so,” she answered as the people slowly began cheering, unsure as first but
rapidly gaining certainty. I had proven myself worthy of being their leader. My newfound honor
and bloodline insisted that I must take my mother’s place as the only rightful heir to the throne.
No one would dare question my right due to my age or my lack of experience after I boldly
accomplished what even the bravest would never attempt. I saved my people and my dying
mother. I came in their time of need and exceeded all of their expectations. I was no longer the
same pup they once taunted. Now I was a warrior worthy of bearing my royal name, worthy of
my mother’s respect.
I looked myself over in the mirror. I was wearing my mother’s royal robes, well I guess they
were mine now. The black fabric had been altered to fit my small frame yet allow for flexibility
and comfort. It was splendid with its stunning red sashes that were tied securely about my
waist and all four of my ankles. The black silk formed a loose cocoon around me yet did not
hang freely like my old robes. Upon my arm I wore my mother’s bracelet. The black scorpion
levitated within it plastic tome, its black band pressed against my skin leaving a deep
impression. I carried my blade at my side, its bloodied edge was whipped clean and its metal
gleamed once more.
“You look quite presentable, Kyzo,” my mother said walking over to me. Her limp was
almost unnoticeable and her posture hinted at her immense strength.
“Thanks Mom,” I said as she stood behind me. I could see her through the mirror. She was
wearing her Death Stalkers’ uniform. The Death Stalkers may be unsure whether she was strong
enough to lead them but the only injury the Death Stalkers acknowledge is death. My mother
has always been a warrior and I am sure even death won’t change that.
“This will be your first speech as the leader. Do you know what you are going to say?” she
asked as I tried to ignore my nerves and focus on all the amazing feats I accomplished recently.