Worm

Creation spawned a beautiful creature. Luminous scales, powerful wings, feathers of every color, pearlescent talons and crystal teeth. The other creatures brought it gifts to celebrate the craftsmanship. Some sought its advice, for the creature was also blessed with vast knowledge. And it was thankful.

It lived for millennia, an exquisite facet of creation. Alas, the creature grew lazy. It allowed an uncanny idea to crawl into their mind. Enthralled, rot grew in the creature’s mouth and its glass teeth began to cloud. It concluded the gifts it received were in fact tribute. And he was lustful.

The other creatures began to whisper. The greatest among them was changed. His scales were dull, the wings dreadful, faded feathers, chilling claws and onyx fangs. They avoided him and few sought his knowledge because it now had a price. And they were afraid.

Another being was molded frail, fragile, but with vast potential. When he discovered this, the creature burned with hatred. He saw they had been given something priceless and unfathomable he did not possess. He thought of only its destruction. The foolish creature applied its vast intellect; he watched and waited. And saw his chance.

So he disguised himself as a harmless, lowly creature and befriended his prey. Naive and good they welcomed him with open arms and he whispered half-truths in their ear. In time, rot had taken hold in their teeth as well. It was their own choice sadly. And the creator wept.

The creature did not celebrate long for he was stripped of even the shadows of his former glory. Trapped in the diminished form he chose for the deception. But he was allowed to live. Furious, he dedicated eternity to a campaign of lies. Weaving grand myths of his original form: the powerful dragon, the wise nāga, a grand world-serpent. In the end though, it was always a worm. But one always watched by the creator with a melancholic gaze.