Flower-Wreathed Feathers

"Hear my last words, O hero bearing the name 'Transcendence'"
"The calamity that flows within its veins is more ancient still than your very name"
"If you yet pity mortals like your ancestors once did"
"Then sever its neck and grant it the joy of freedom"

Though the stooping old sage made known this oracle to him, the hero who had suffered so much turned a deaf ear to it.
Perhaps he had endured too many partings up till then, but he simply bent down, holding the dying Saurian whelp in his embrace.
He touched the young Saurian's bloodstained feathers with precious elixir, utterly ignoring the sigh that marked the sage's departure.

"Whether tyrant or rampaging dragon, whether curse or fate"
"The descendants of the Flower-Feather Clan bow to nothing, and to no one"
"If this laughable curse is a chain he was born with"
"Then let me break it, just as our glorious ancestors did"

And so, the warrior named Menilek and his loyal companion Ngoubou embarked on a pilgrimage,
And many a song and scroll passed down to this day in the Flower-Feather Clan tell of those magnificent adventures undertaken by this human and Saurian:
They tell of how the hero tore the mountains apart with thunderous bowstrings, of how the whelp used cunning to pierce the wicked python's throat,
How they together fought a huge monster for forty days, and how they finally vanquished it using a single fish — a pike, to be precise...
The stories even tell of how Menilek contended against Tenoch, who had not yet been exiled from his tribe, beneath the rocks burned by countless leaping flames,
And how Menilek came to admire the mighty warrior's heroism and bravery, later standing by his side many years later as they faced the tide of darkness...
Such are the legends now known by all who dwell on the scorching plains, whose strains and stanzas have been sung by countless poets for five hundred years.

It is often said that all unions must lead to fated partings,
But even so, some hold onto that which people call "hope,"
Believing that new flowers will bloom, even on fields barren and burning.
Yet, just as power uncontainable is the root of many a tragedy,
So too is well-intentioned hope the mold in which many worldly miseries are cast.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, he always comforted himself,
Until all hope turned into betrayal, and until tomorrow would never come again.

"Ngoubou, my loyal companion, please rest here for a while"
"I'll be back as soon as I finish, so get a good night's rest"
"Once the dark tide has subsided, I will hurry back to your side and wake you"
"And once spring returns to the earth, I shall go with you to see the new flowers blooming on the high cliffs"