FSE

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Dreams are the way a creature's subconscious speaks to them, sometimes the message is loud and clear, other's will only be revealed through time, when one dreams, often enough they are being told something they missed.

Chapter 7

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woke in an impressive room, the dream still vivid in my mind. A much larger dragon covered in scales of dark brown and deep orange, her belly the color of wood tended to my side. She hadn't noticed I was awake yet; she was preoccupied with bandaging the gashes where Draconus shredded my wing.

I should be dead.

_ _ I wasn't dead, but the void in my chest left from my loss of flight might be death in its own rite.

"Good, you're awake," came the dragon's soft voice.

I tried to muster the strength to respond, but found I had none. I couldn't even lift my head. Nothing.

Panic enveloped me in a rush of waves.

"Calm down. You're okay," she soothes. "Nothing here can hurt you. Relax."

_What if Draconus didn't just take my ability to fly? What if he took my ability to move, to walk? Please--that can't be. _

"Calm down! Your heart is beating far too fast for your condition. You must calm your heart. Your internal organs are bruised and battered. If your blood rises too quickly, it will reverse all the work we've done on you."

I don't care. I need to move. I need to--I need to know!

She walked over in front of me, drawing my gaze toward hers with her presence alone. As quickly as the panic rose in my chest, relief washed it away

"We administered medicine that inhibits your ability to move. This ensures that your wing heals properly. Any movement at all can reopen your wounds."

My wing? You mean it's healed? I'll be able to fly?

Hope flared inside my heart, a fire bursting to life.

"You are afraid of never being able to fly. I can tell you now: those fears are misplaced. You will be able to fly, but you must not move. You must keep your heart rate low, or the veins in your wing could burst. Blink twice if you understand me."

I promptly blinked twice, though I wasn't sure what veins were, or why I had to keep my heart rate low, but if it meant I could fly again, I'd do anything.

She moved to my right eye. She and the room were drenched in the same shade of yellow.

"I will be back later. Get some rest. Your body was nearing its limit when you got here. And from your eyes, I'm sure you feel as exhausted as you look."

Without another word, she walked out of the room. I had to admit sleep sounded like a great idea

***

The night was dark, the moon nowhere to be seen, the stars blinking out one by one like a wave until no light was cast upon the world. Everyone took shelter from what was coming: a darkness that swallowed all life and twisted it until it was unrecognizable--a demonic form straight from the abyss that turned the ground into ash and the trees into twisted gnarled pieces of wood. Still, the shadow pursued, overtaking all light until eventually even the sun whose light brought life was gone. The creatures of the world, though hidden, were swallowed one by one, their light blotting out just like the stars.

When the shadow had nearly won, when the creatures of light had nearly vanished a light appeared in the sky like a beacon of hope.

A family of large birds, forced to walk instead of fly as nature intended, saw the beacon in the sky and headed for it. When they arrived, they found light in abundance, casting the shadows away. Here, creatures of all species were thriving, free from the hold of darkness.

When the mother bird asked what the cause was, a large form flew down and landed in front of them. Its scaled form radiated light, its red and white scales seeming to be the very cause of the light they saw in the sky--so bright they had to turn away or be blinded.

The creature introduced itself as a dragon, the first dragon created by nature to restore balance that had long ago been destroyed. As long as they were under its protection, they would be safe, and the shadow, which it had called dark magic, could not touch them underneath its protective wings.

And as time passed, the shadows retreated further and further from the dragon's light, but the shadow called dark magic had finally taken notice amongst the vastness of the world it now controlled. Upon this, the dark magic took a physical form--that of which had become a symbol of hope: a dragon. Something powerful, beautiful, and substantial enough to reshape the world.

The dark magic, now in the shape of a dragon, used this newly discovered form to twist the world further beneath its claw. He sought control, turning life into weapons of war with no will of their own, and no pain they could feel. Their life force seeped from their bodies with each step, bloody footprints in their wake.

The dragon of light, the one called Britosa, grew tired, her power weakening as the shadow army grew. At last, the dark magic even took the dragon of light, pinning her down beneath open jaws ready to devour her and everything she fought to protect.

***

Ymithia was tired, but excitement surged through her veins, wiping away any semblance of exhaustion. She and Cyndrithil had spent close to a week preparing their home, making it big enough to add a third member. Through fire and claws, they made headway with their den. After several days of work, the den was ready for a new member.

Earlier in the day, Furest visited the couple's den, informing them that their soon-to-be son was awake. Filled with an overpowering sense of excitement, Ymithia and Cyndrithil took off without a moment's hesitation, ignoring Furest and her growing concerns.

When they arrived at the Mount of Life, Xithris waited at the entrance, a grim look cast upon his snout.

The two dragons quickly realized they forgot to tell Xithris, but it seemed he already knew.

"Is everything alright?" Cyndrithil asked Xithris as he landed alongside Ymithia.

"Besides you forgetting to tell me he was awake?" responded Xithris, a knowing smirk on his face.

"I guess in our excitement we forgot," said Ymithia.

"It's alright. I knew you would forget. Heck, even I would. It's why I had Furest send a second messenger. Regardless, knowing you two, you likely didn't hear anything Furest said before you rushed off." Xithris strode forward and wrapped each of them in his wings in a draconic hug.

"They most certainly did not," Furest yelled as she landed, her wings sending out gusts of dirt around her. "Had you listened you may have heard some important news," she explained with noticeable irritation in her voice.

"It seems in our haste to see the hatchling we forgot all of our manners. We are deeply sorry." Cyndrithil bowed his head out of respect.

"The hatchling is heavily medicated. We gave him Pyrazere, which paralyzes the body's muscles. He can't talk, much less raise his head," Furest explained to Cyndrithil, though Ymithia was well acquainted with the drug. Improperly administered, it could kill an adult dragon. Her heart ached for the hatchling knowing how severe his wounds were to warrant Pyrazere.

"This is another reason I'm here," Xithris continued. "I may not be able to read minds, but I should be able to tell what he is thinking based on his emotions."

Xithris said this, but he only cared about why the hatchling used dark magic. If it was for a reason other than self-defense, he would have to enact the plan he and the elders had been discussing.

"One last thing," said Furest. "Avoid any questions that could raise his heart rate. If his heart beats too fast while the veins in his wing are still growing, they could burst."

The pair nodded in understanding before heading inside with Furest and Xithris in tow.

Furest would be there too monitor his heart rate, through many years of trial and error, Furest had mastered the ability to hone in on a single creatures heart amongst a whole crowd, not only that but her magical ability was indeed telepathy, though she kept it secret from almost everyone, the only ones who knew were the elders themselves since they required knowledge of every dragons inherent ability.

A few more turns and Ymithia and Cyndrithil laid eyes on the currently sleeping hatchling.

My brain was full of cobwebs when I came too. Figures moved around me, slow as if through water. Their enormous shapes stretched as they moved, shifting to definable wings. Each dragon was distinct from the next, a rainbow of colors shifting from white and blue to red and brown, the room a blur of their melting colors and light.

_What's going on? _

Two dragons peered down at me through teary eyes--as if they were happy to see me, but I was certain I had never met these two in my life.

Is someone going to say something, or am I good to go back to sleep?

"My name is Furest." said the brown dragon, stepping forward. "This is Ymithia, the blue dragon is Cyndrithil, and Xithris is the white dragon."

Cyndrithil? What a mouthful.

Furest gave a slight chuckle, though at what I had no idea. Not like I could voice my thoughts.

"There are a few questions I would like to ask you," said Xithris, meeting my eye.

Sure, go ahead. Not like I could answer them anyway--wait you do know that right? You know I'm medically paralyzed. If not, you are a really annoying dragon.

Again, Furest let out a low chuckle, using one of her wings to hide her snout. Ymithia quirked a brow toward Furest.

Xithril continued talking, his eyes hard and unyielding, shoving his face in front of mine forcing me to meet them: "What dark magic did you use and why?"

Panic gripped me. Of all the possible questions, he picked the one I was least prepared for.

_ How do they know? Please don't kill me!_

"The entire clan knows of your existence and the fact you used dark magic, so calm down and tell me what you used and why," the dragon pressed.

The memory came rushing back, wiping all other thoughts from my mind, and with it the guilt--the overwhelming, crushing guilt I carried for taking away someone's freedom. Most of all my first and only friend. No matter how many times I apologized, it would never be good enough to take away the guilt that bore down on me.

Tears pricked my eyes. I would never have the opportunity to apologize to Arlya, never make new memories with her, never race her again. Claws latched around my heart, scratching and pulling, leaving the ghost of their grip behind.

I remembered the first day we met. "Eat up, you silly goof," she said after throwing the dead rabbit at my feet. I can still remember how the sun beat down on my scales. She called herself a harpy, a creature I had never heard of before, but still she took pity on me, took me to her nest and healed me. Even if it was to sacrifice me later, id give anything to do it all over again.

She always called me a "Silly dragon," although it drove me crazy every time she said it, I would give anything to hear her say it again--to hear her soft, silky voice scream at me, calling me a stubborn dragon. I'd give anything to see her again, anything to hear her voice just one last time. I didn't want our argument to be the last thing between us, but it was, and I would never get to apologize or thank her for everything she did for me.

Xithril sighed, a thin trail of smoke leaving his nostrils.

"I see I brought up some painful memories. Forgive me. I have one more question I need answered before I leave." He moved closer, our snouts nearly touching. "What is your past with the black-scaled dragon. Why was he trying to kill you?"

As if dredging up Arlya's death wasn't enough, Xithril was intent on making me remember everything from that night: Draconus chomping down on Arlya, the crunch of her bones reaching my sorry excuse for ears, the torture he and his damn mate put me through--all of it!

Fear etched its way onto my heart with a hammer and chisel carving every scar, every moment of pain onto my soul. And while I hated myself for being afraid, I couldn't stop the fear from rising in my chest, creeping up my throat. His size and muscles--I never stood a chance against him.

Xithril frowned. "I truly am sorry for bringing up horrendous memories. I have decent answers, but when you can truly talk, I will be back to ask the same questions, and next time, I will have my answer's."

Xithril rose and walked out, his claws click-clacking on the stone.

Ymithia wrapped a wing around me as she stretched at my side, her warmth enveloping me like a blanket. It made the tears come that much harder. The blue-scaled dragon, Cyndrithil, did the same, laying his wing over Ymithia's, resting his head over my neck.

At some point, Furest left and returned with a woven basket hanging from her jaws. Green stems and small purple flowers crowded the opening.

"I know you're in pain," Furest said, grinding the herbs with a pestle. "But your heart rate must be calmed. This medicine will put you to sleep for a time, so the veins in your wings can catch up." Ymithia and Cyndrithil will still be here when you wake up, so should you need anything, ask them."

Furest leaned in and whispered, "I'm sorry they hurt you." Then, she pried open my jaws and filled my mouth with the freshly ground medicine. They tasted atrocious--no, they tasted like the herbs and berries Arlya always shoved into my mouth.

A fresh wave of tears spilled from my eyes. I would give anything to be back there, to have her shove another talon-full of berries down my throat, no matter how bitter they tasted.

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