The brave, mighty bishen of the Poisonblood Clan were great fighters and warriors. The oison that coursed through their veins had no weakness, so the poisonblood had no worthy foe. They were the masters, the champions and feared rulers of their planet. All beings bowed down in terror to the mighty clan, for to laugh in the face of a Poisonblood meant certain death.

When each wyrm was born, the Ritual of Birth took place. The wyrm, fresh from its egg, was tested for its poison strength by biting into a random forest creature captured by the Elders. Judged by how quickly the animal died, the wyrm was put into a Rank, and then left to fend for itself.

Miwohada was his mother's firstborn, and he was early. His eggshell was weak, and the Elders were forced to shatter it before Miwohada was entirely ready. Otherwise, death would have been certain. His poison, therefore, was slower to develop, and he was doomed to the Mior Rank.

Mior were the slaves to the Uni, who were slaves to Ivar, slaves to Lyir, who were slaves to the highest Rank, the Yoriki, or Elders. The Elders made all the decisions for the clan, and were free to boss all of the Ranks around. The lower Ranks were free to order their inferior Ranks about, but only if their superiors allowed it. Thus, the Mior were the ones forced to live the hardest lives, and do the most work. Elders did very little, other than lie about and make shrapes Bishen.

Miwohada was an especially hard worker, perhaps because he knew nothing more. Many Mior were raised by mothers in higher Ranks, but Miwo's mother had wanted nothing to do with him. The small red terran wyrm had matured quickly after his birth, and grew to be many times stronger than many of the other Mior, but switching Ranks was unheard of. And Miwo's poison was still weak compared to his peers.

The Poisonblood Clan was most often in a raging battle with the other main race on the planet, the Ki'ishi. The Ki'ishi were totally immune to poison. They were scraggly, wolf-like beings that fed off of the very life-force of other beings. The males of the Poisonblood were almost always off at war, using their magic to fight the Ki'ishi. Many other species were forced into hiding during these battles, protecting themselves from misfired spells and other dangers.

Miwohada never went to the battles. His companions, even as wyrms, would play-fight and pretend that they were mighty warriors fighting the evil Ki'ishi. Miwohada would sneak away during these games, and he would visit the kindest Elders to learn from them about the world on which he lived.

What is this world called? he often asked Mi'shor, the friendly blue Elder that spend most of her time storytelling to the younger Poisonblood Clan members. Why are we here? Are there any Poisonblood elsewhere?

Well, Mi'shor would begin, The world which we live on is called Mir'Terra, the Beautiful Land. Since the wars began, however, the beauty has passed. Mi'shor would pause here, as if remembering wonderful times long ago. As to why we're here, or if there are any others, we have no idea.

I think there are others! Miwo would say firmly. I know it!

Miwo knew that it was his life's quest to go be among those stars, not fighting senseless battles with the Ki'ishi. So, when he grew into a beautiful terran, he trained hard, growing stronger and stronger, until he was deemed worthy by the Elders of Bishelhood. He was given his magical object, the Bloodstone, to be used primarily as a weapon, but, little did they know, Miwohada did not intend to fight.

The Bishel had secretly met a strange creature, the thin, furry Ilici, that knew of portals and time travel. Miwo had learned from it much about portals and dimensions, so that, when he was ready to leave, he could travel safely and quickly, gathering the knowledge of the universe and bringing it back to his Clan. He told no one that he was leaving, but Mi'shor knew. It was his quest from the beginning, and she had blessed him with her determination and blessed him with luck. He would succeed on his quest for knowledge.

Miwohada traveled far and wide. He discovered countless beings in countless galaxies and dimensions, and he learned of their cultures and customs. There were a myriad of races to be found on a myriad of planets, but none of them knew anything of the Poisonblood or Mir'Terra. He taught races about other races, and spread knowledge throughout the universe.

But, then, something happened. During one simple portal journey, some phenomonon struck Miwohada and altered his course considerably. The portal network swept him away from his destination, throwing him through time and space until he had to force his way out, ripping a seam in the fabric of reality. He destroyed several uninhabited galaxies, but he didn't care. He was totally lost, and he was forced to dimension-hop until he found a place with sentient beings.

He then began a new quest. His blood sung with the poison of his Clan, calling him home to share his knowledge with the wyrms so that they would bring peace to the bitter world. He traveled to countless planets, searching for information about his whereabouts. The naieve residents of the planets knew nothing of other worlds, and they could only give him crude explinations, if even that. Of course, they knew nothing of Mir'Terra.

Miwohada journeyed far and wide, soon coming to this 'Earth,' as Kara called it. Here, he continued his quest, searching for answers to his unanswerable questions.



Kara wept. It had been many, many years since she had wept for another being, but there she was, tears rolling down her face as she shared in Miwohada's grief and torment. "I'll help you!" she promised. "We'll get you home."

Miwohada smiled. Many have done all they can, he said. It is their kindness that gives me hope. Thank you, wyrm Kara.

Sniffling, Kara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Now," Miwo said, "you must have a past of your own. Tell me, would you? It will keep our minds occupied on this long walk."

Kara took a deep breath. She had never told anyone of her tortured existance, she had never told anyone about her mother.... But, now that she thought about it, Miwohada had told her his story. What did she have to lose? Forcing back her tears, Kara began at the beginning, when her mother had first fallen ill. At first, the words came jerkily and unreadily, but, as Kara spoke, the words began to flow from her lips, as though they had been crouching back there all her life, just waiting to get out in the open. Miwohada listened intently, his expression never changing as he listened to Kara's tale.

When she was finished, a bitter smile twisted Miwohada's draconian mouth. I was right about your people, he murured, almost to himself. To think that they would inflict such torture, such responsibility, on a wyrm such as yourself. The Poisonblood would have put the poor female out of her misery immediately. I suppose --

Miwohada froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening. Kara? he asked softly. How large is your planet?

"Quite big," she said, frowning. "Why...."

Following Miwohada's gaze, she too found words lost to her. Before her eyes was a miracle, or, perhaps, a curse.

There stood a Dome, a perfect replica of her own home, its metallic surface glistening in the sunlight.

Gasping, Kara ran to it, her eyes wild with delight. Miwohada followed, his sturdy body kicking sand up in torrents as he ran. Kara reached the wall first, and began pounding on it.

"Of course!" Kara shouted over the din her fists made. "There were other domes constructed! The entire world population wouldn't fit into just one! Help me, Miwohada! We can get you help in here!"

Miwohada's tail whammed into the surface, his spikes almost denting it. He swung again, the pair making a ridiculously loud amount of noise. Looking up, Kara saw something that her old Dome didn't have - security cameras, swiveling toward the pair pounding on the wall.

Several minutes later, Kara heard a voice, and she ceased pounding on the wall, listening hard. Then, she heard the voice again, and her heart began to pound. She couldn't have heard right. Had the voice said...?

"Hello, Kara. We've been waiting."



Kara lay on the bed, unable to absorb it all.

Several seconds after the voice had first reached her ears, a crack had become visible in the surface of the Dome. The next second, a door had shown itself, and Kara and Miwohada had dashed into the safety of the Dome, closing the door behind them. They watched as it sealed itself, before they followed a marked trail to a large, empty room.

A man had entered, and introduced himself as Jacob. He had told them that they were in Dome 12-B, and that Kara had come from 12-A. Kara gasped. The Dome IDs were secret, not to be told to anyone outside the Government! She had asked why she was being told this, and the man replied, "Why not?"

He continued to say that this Dome was used primarily for rescuing those sent away from 12-A and other nearby Domes. They were not a group of criminals, the man had assured Kara, just a group of those that were sent out for other reasons.

The man had then refused to answer Kara's questions, assuring her that someone would see her later and explain more to her. She had then been shown to the cozy little room where she now lay, and she had collapsed, confused and frightened.

Don't worry, Miwohada said, as though he could tell what Kara was thinking. At least you can breathe.

Kara grinned slightly, though that grin was quickly erased by her thoughts. "How do you think they knew my name?" she asked Miwo.

I know no more than you do of the workings of your race, probably less, Miwohada replied. I doubt you have anything to fear. That man seemed nice enough.

Kara sighed. She wondered briefly how her mother was doing, and if there was anyone taking care of her, but she realized that there was no point in those thoughts. There was nothing she could do to change what was happening in 12-A.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Kara sat up quickly, running her fingers through her untidy black hair. "Come...come in," she stammered.

The door opened, revealing a man in his early 40s. He had messy brown hair that reached his chin, and a short beard that was even messier. His skin was slightly tanned, as though he had spent just a little too much time outside, and his bright blue eyes twinkled with an inner light. He was skinny, and dressed in an old brown suit that almost matched his hair. He reached out a hand, and Kara saw the scar that she recognized all too well.

"Kara," the man said. "I've missed you."

Kara shuddered. "Father...."