Chapter Text
It was close to lunch when the dragon broke down the walls.
This wasn’t the first time.
The class moved through it like a rehearsed dance.
Roman, the undeniable leader of team ‘light side’, would act first, pulling out the sword he always kept on him.
Next, the crowd would pull out their phones.
Thirdly, the dragon would toss its head upwards, letting go of a mighty roar.
Fourth, Logan, the smartest on the team also their mage, would begin a chant, holding down the beast with shimmering dark blue chains.
(We’re almost at the end now) Then Roman rushes in for the kill, earning infinity glory and respect.
Finally, Patton, the healer of the team, would swoop in and heal the injured.
Now, none of these people are actually the focus of our story. No, our boy doesn’t have tan skin, honey brown charming hair, a dashing smile that makes (almost) all (straight and Allosexual) women (and all the gay men too) fall in love with him.
Our boy isn’t tall and handsome with dark hair and eyes that just SCREAM intelligent and sharp cheekbones that make people adore him.
Our boy isn’t short will a smile sweeter than sugar and light brown hair that frames his round face that has made people melt. No, our boy is Virgil. He’s scrawny and has dusty brown hair that hides his matching brown eyes, bruises littered his face and body.
Virgil isn’t popular like Roman or Logan or Patton. Virgil can manipulate and produce light. That’s it. Nothing interesting. Maybe rare, but not interesting.
A few years thousand years ago it was prophesied that a beam of red light will shoot up into the sky, showing the world the boy that was capable of wielding a sword strong enough to kill any foe a blue light shooting from a mage whose mage was only limited to their knowledge and a cyan light shooting out from a healer capable of healing any physically wound on anything ALIVE. When Virgil entered high school, Roman, Patton and Logan all did too. And on the very first day, Virgil’s history class was interrupted by the light side’s light (that’s were they get their name, so original right?) shining so bright you would need sunglasses.
By now anyone could figure out that the red light was Roman, the Cyan light was Patton and the blue light was Logan, but there it is if you couldn’t.
Unfortunately for Virgil, this fight was different. His leg got crushed under a peace of debris. It hurt. Patton might’ve been able to fix it but, recalling the steps of the dance, they never searched. So there he was, trapped and sobbing, his screams muffled by the rocks, suspending him in a sort of pocket. So he waited. His throat got sore from screaming and his eyes stung from the tears. It had been about an hour, maybe…. Time was hard to tell. it could have been 5 minutes or several days. Then the emergency providers came.
Virgil scream louder than ever before, desperate to not die here. What about college. The man of my dreams? No! No! Louder and louder, fuelled by the adrenaline. What happened next was blurry. The man dug him out, letting out an audible gasp when he say his leg. Virgil avoided looking at it. And slowly and gently, the firefighter(?) lifted him up and slug him over his shoulder, carful not to disturb the leg. The pain grew to strong. The world faded in and out as Virgil drifted to unconsciousness.
…
Beep!
…
Beep!
…
Beep!
.
.
.
Beep! Ok, that was getting annoying. Virgil could feel the mattress under him. It was to soft. His eyes shot open as he scanned the room before anything could actually register as real. He blinked and looked around the room, less startled (well, just hiding it better really) in the corner a shocked looking nurse stared at him. “Whazthebeepingsound” Virgil slurred. The nurse scrunched up her eyebrows and squinted her eyes.
“What?” She asked.
Virgil was quiet for a moment, then said, voice raspy and shitty, “ whats that beeping sound?“ they nurse looked over to the machine next to him. A heart monitor. Oh. Suddenly, he remembered. He remembered felling hurt, let down, abandoned.
They never came. Never. The heroes abandoned him. What heroes.
They never truly talked about the 4th light. Virgil was a child of prophecy. When he was younger he was told who he was, another hero. One trusted and safe. That’s the funny thing about prophecies. He was to be strong, reliable and loyal.
He… he… he was the villain of the story. He was shunned to the darkness and he would spread darkness. He was the loyal to those he called friends, yet no one cared enough to befriend him. He was reliable, it makes perfect sense that he’s doing this. And he wouldn’t stop he knew what had to be done and he would do it. Nothing could stop him. He was scrawny, dark Virgil, and like ‘dashing’ Roman, ‘intelligent’ Logan, ‘kind’ Patton, he was a child born from and bound by prophecy. But it doesn’t matter. Why does it matter to Virgil? iI didn’t matter if it was written in the stars, he never liked astronomy anyway. If the books declare it they will be the kindling to Virgil’s inferno. If the strings of fate tangled him, he will cut himself free. So, he will be the villain that could not be vanquished.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
A mask made of bent light across his face, Erebus emerged. When he entered the room all light are snuffed. Nothing is left in is spot. A mess like a tornado tears through the room, magic that relies on light is rendered useless and swing around a sword in a room with bystanders is not advisable. And the beings of light fell. He was careful not to ever be caught. No one ever saw anything. So the light side lost, lost to Virgil. Overlooked and underestimated, he stayed strong and became the spreader of darkness.