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Every creature holds mana within, though not all possess the ability to use it. Dragons, however, are an exception, able to utilize mana in more ways than any other creature. Some dragons use mana to breathe underwater. Others, to grow plants faster. Some are healers and defenders. For a dragon, the possibilities are limitless.

--Dragon Proverb

Chapter Fifteen

olta didn't know what she was thinking when she ran to the grave of her only daughter. She swore she'd never return here, yet, tonight, Xolta found herself weeping, body trembling. Her tears striking the earth were as numerous as the sweet memories rising on the evening air.

What she wouldn't give to see her daughter just one last time, alive and well was a very short list, comprising only of Draconus, her mate which she had left behind hours ago, guilt and shame racked her body with fresh sobs, her teeth gritted showing off her pearly white fangs.

It wasn't like she wanted to leave Draconus without saying anything, she felt compelled to leave, to go to the grave of her daughter, something in which she had been fighting for ages, only now she wasn't able to fight it any longer, leaving without saying anything to him.

"I love you mother." The faint echo of Yeara's words called.

Several weeks after Xolta took Yeara into her care, she heard those words. Xolta remembered it like it happened yesterday, the same love pulsing through her with every beat of her heart.

"I love you too," Xolta spoke to the grave, a mound of dirt covered in yellow and black suntwist. It was Yeara's favorite flower. She said it reminded her of both the dark and light side of life, the joy and sorrow that came with it.

Xolta always figured Yeara was talking about her parents' murder when she spoke of the flower. Despite the darkness that crosses Yeara's face when she spoke of the flower, Xolta wished to see it once again--to see any look cross her daughter's face that declared the emotions of living.

"I love you mother."

Stronger this time, the voice startled Xolta, a memory creeping up on her. After all, how could her daughter be anywhere but beneath the earth?

Xolta's body tensed in a heave of sobs. The damp forest around the grave sank into the shadows, darkness roiling and crawling along the dirt toward her. Lush vegetation faded into lifeless stone, the world dulling into pitch.

Still, a sweet voice rang through the darkness: "Mother, come away from that dark place! It isn't time yet!" And it steeled her, cleared the smoke and fog away, returning Xolta to the grave in the forest.

Xolta dried her tears. Though brief, the abyss had been tangible. Xolta felt herself teetering on the edge. And now, her claws were again steady on the warm earth. But something new overcame her: hope.

Maybe Xolta wasn't alone after all.

"Yeara," she whispered to the earth. "Are you...?"

No, Xolta needed answers. She was not merely content with her daughter's spirit. That sweet, sweet voice was too real. It was as though Yeara had been standing right next to her.

Xolta tensed. This was not a gentle hope. This was a feverish hope--a desperation. She needed answers. What if her daughter wasn't buried beneath her? What if it had all been a dream? A long and haunting nightmare that bled into reality?

Xolta thrust her claws into the mound, shoveling dirt away from the grave. She dug and dug and dug, silently pleading to hear Yeara's sweet voice once more. She cried to any being who might lend her an ear to wind back the clock.

Elbows deep in wet dirt, Xolta's claws finally struck something hard and bright protruding through the overturned earth. Another scoop of dirt eagerly lifted away from the source rocked Xolta with reality she didn't want to face. Stark against the night, Yeara's remains proclaimed her departure from this world far too early.

Xolta leaned into the dirt, stretching her arms beneath the grave. She pulled Yeara into her embrace. Only bones remained, but still, Xolta cradled them just like before. If only she possessed the strength back then to burn her body and let her ashes fly amongst the stars.

"Mother, look up."

Xolta refused, knowing all she would be met with was empty air. She dreamed of Yeara often, her mind tormenting her waking and sleeping. She watched her daughter die over and over, sometimes by her own hand. Those days, she woke, screaming, her body tensed yet screaming for air at the same time. Instead of Yeara, she would be met with Draconus when she returned to reality.

Xolta would have to apologize to Draconus when--if she saw him again.

"Mother, look at me, I am no trick, I am here."

Xolta couldn't take it anymore. Finally, she opened her eyes and stood, her daughter's bones falling back to the grave. Before her was her daughter, appearing as healthy and happy as ever. Her glistening eyes held back tears.

Xolta stood frozen, her mind unable to control her body. Tears resumed, falling into the dirt between mother and daughter.

"H-how a-are you... h-here?" she stuttered heavily, eyes roving over Yeara's unblemished form.

"I have always been here," she said tapping Xolta's chest that housed her pounding heart.

"I have never left you. I have been watching over you for the last eighty years, just as all the ancestors do for those they love and can never forget."

Xolta remembered that story as a hatchling. Those who pass on watch over the ones left behind from afar, never allowed to interfere, but never to leave them. Again, shame gripped Xolta. She should have realized her mistake. Xolta raised Yeara for the majority of her life. Of course, Yeara would watch over her.

"As much as I would love to spend time catching up, I don't have a lot of time."

Yeara's words rattled Xolta. She couldn't bear losing her daughter a second time. Not on this plane. How many times must she endure her love being torn away from her embrace?

"Please, you're here. Why can't you stay?" she begged, her words stressed and shaky.

"I am not a part of your world any longer. All I can do is watch over you. Just this once, I was allowed to intervene."

Questions flooded Xolta. She wanted to know everything about her daughter. What had she had been up to all of these years? What was it like on the other side? Xolta hoped it was Vulneara. Her heart would stop if she was sent to Qoneara. Xolta wouldn't hesitate to take Yeara's place in the severe realm of Qoneara.

"There isn't much time," Yeara continued. "Mother, head east. Return home. You will be needed there soon. Darkness is coming. You know more about dark sorcery than any other living dragon. Use that knowledge and fight alongside the others."

What is she talking about?

If Yeara was truly with her all of these years, she would know Xolta had no desire to return home. Xolta was guilty of practicing dark magic. They would kill her and Draconus on the spot.

"I know you are scared mother. I am too. Something is coming to sweep across your world along Vulneara and Qoneara, a darkness filled with malice that will destroy everything. Us spirits here in Vulneara will be obliterated. Nothing will remain of us."

Yeara's words struck her mother still. Obliteration of her daughter. Not death--but complete annihilation. For decades, Xolta survived knowing that Yeara's soul only departed this realm for another. Now, even that place was no longer safe.

What was death, if not an escape from the hardship of the trials each one faces here? Where was the peace Yeara was promised?

"Head home," Yeara directed. "Britosa is preparing the clan for your return. They will welcome you and protect you knowing full well your use of dark sorcery."

Xolta's jaw dropped. A clan welcoming back a dragon who had used dark sorcery for dozens of years; it was unheard of.

"What about my mate? He was the one using 'dark sorcery.'"

Her eyes flashed, anger seeming to rise up, clouding her eyes just at the mention of his name, her paws gripping the ground, carving deep gashes in the dirt, her tail whipped the air. before Xolta could ask about her sudden change, it was gone and Yeara had moved on.

"He too will be welcomed. He never told you, but he was also born in the eastern clan, Dravellia. Your son also carries their lineage."

Anger thrummed in Xolta's bones at the mere mention of that brat.

Yeara shook her head. "Mother, when will you realize you are mistaking anger for something else entirely? I know you. I know your heart is full of love. It's the thread holding me here at this very moment: your boundless love. I know you love your son. Why else would you name him after mercy?"

Xolta tried to come up with an answer, only to realize it was a spur of the moment thing--a name which came to her as soon as he crawled from his egg. Was it fate that she named her son Ymerc? Or did she truly love him deep down? Was the hate she harbored only out of the fear of replacing Yeara?

"Mom, promise me you will go east and do whatever it takes to help them, for your sake, mine, and your still-living son."

_Still living son._Draconus had lied to her.

"Mother, how I wish I could stay by your side and help you through the coming battles. I have my battles to fight here in Vulneara. I want you to know that no matter what, I am always watching over you. I love you."

Yeara's body began to fade away dissipating into fog. Xolta realized she was running out of time.

"Yeara, I promise I will head home." Xolta paused before realizing her time with her daughter was quickly fading away.

"I love you too, my precious daughter."

Just before Yeara faded away entirely, her lips broke into a toothy grin, her eyes lighting up like the sun before vanishing once again.

Reality crashed down onto Xolta. Years ago, she watched as her daughter's life faded away. And eighty years later, she watched it happen again. The only thing keeping her from letting that weight crush her into oblivion was her promise.

A wing brushed her side startling her, body tensing before looking over and seeing her mate, who had come after her all this time.

"Was that who I think it was?" he asked.

"Yeara," she affirmed absently. It took her a moment to process Draconus standing next to her.

Still-living son. Yeara's words echoed.

"You lied to me!" she roared, turning on him. She bared her teeth, brandishing anger that prompted Draconus to retract his wing.

"Lied about what?" he asked, his head tilted to the side.

"You told me Ymerc was dead, yet, somehow, he remains alive," Xolta told him.

"I lied because I thought he _was_dead. I tore his wing from his side. He should have bled out in moments. The only reason I didn't behead him, is because dragons attacked me. Outnumbered, I fled, believing Ymerc was dead. Or would you rather me not come back at all?"

It was rare for Draconus to show doubt in her, rarely questioning her. Only when he was truly emotional did his words get the best of him. That was how Xolta knew he was asking a genuine question. But at the same time, this realization bred a twinge of guilt.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped," she said, softly. "Draconus, I will always want you to come back. You are my life. Without you, I don't know who, or where I would be right now. You supported me even though you knew deep down, my choices aren't always the best."

"Like torturing our son?" he said, cutting her off.

From his tone, she knew he felt guilty about it just the same as her, only now confronting it because of Yeara.

"If you knew it was wrong, why didn't you question me? Or find another way?" she asked, her voice growing quieter.

His face looked pained, as if each word was a painstaking process. Eventually he relaxed and spoke.

"I wondered about suggesting giving the egg up to another clan. Let them raise him, but with how afraid you are of being seen by any other dragon, of forming any kind of connection with another living creature besides me. I knew it would be pointless to say anything. I could have gone myself, but unless you were dead, they wouldn't have accepted the egg without you there as well. The law goes for every clan."

"I wasn't here for most of it, but I did hear Yeara saying to go back home. Is that your next stop?"

She didn't know. She was terrified of going back home. If the dragons who had killed her daughter were still alive, she may not be able to hold herself back from killing them herself, though she realized that was highly unlikely. As old as they were, they would have died years ago. Still, she had made her daughter a promise, and she had always kept her promises. Why stop now?

"Yes, that is where I am headed next. I understand you are from there yourself. I realize you had your own reasons for leaving. If you don't want to come with me, I understand," She said, looking down at her paws.

A dark blue claw lifted her head. She looked Draconus directly in the eyes.

"No matter where you go, I will always follow. You are my everything. I love you."

His words lit a spark in her heart, one she hadn't felt for ages, the love she felt for him on the day they became mates rushed back, filling her till she overflowed.

Leaning in, she brushed her lips against his before snaking her tongue between his teeth. Her heart a blazing wildfire, her tail and wings completely frozen while the rest of her seemed to explode, igniting in the best of ways, each scale a smoldering fire, exploding like the sun when his wings wrapped around her, paws entwining with hers.

The moment seemed to go on forever, but it had to end eventually. When Draconus pulled away, Xolta longed for more. It had been ages since she had felt this way, always drowning in pain and fear. For once, that wasn't the case. She felt invincible, but all that came to end when Draconus beckoned for her to lead into the skies, and finally back home.

One day after Ymerc get's abducted by Anirin.

They traveled for week's before arriving at the edge of the Dravellian territory. A vast forest touched the horizon before ending at the base of a rather small mountain range before ending at cliffs marking the start of the sea. Most dragons chose to live in the mountains--mostly for comforts--while others would swim the ocean looking for a perfect place of their own before clearing it out of water using magic.

Xolta never did like the sea. Using mana to breathe was hard and uncomfortable. How others did it daily, she would never know.

Xolta kept pawing the edge of the forest, hesitant to enter. The sun having touched the horizon a short while ago cast long shadows between the trees. Xolta's own shadow seemed to be reaching towards the forest endlessly. Draconus was next to her, letting her take her time. He didn't seem as perturbed about going home as Xolta did. He was the very definition of calm. Xolta thought he had left because of circumstances similar to hers. Now she was wondering if he had left and had planned on going back.

"You never did tell me why you left," she said. Leaving the question hanging in the air.

It had taken them close to two weeks to arrive at the edge. Taking the time to clean their den of any traces of dark sorcery and bringing along their books as evidence to their discoveries. Yeara had said the Dravellian clan would need their knowledge, and what better evidence than the books they had learned from. Of course, with the weight of the books, they weren't able to fly and thus the trip took twice as long if not more.

Xolta didn't mind it at all. She would rather have kept to the ground anyway, still fearing being seen by others, and yet here she was about to face that fear. The only thing keeping Xolta from running away farther than she had ever gone before was the promise she made to her daughter.

That promise hung far heavier than the sack of books tied around Xolta's arms.

Draconus carried his share of the books, looking more like a walking sack than a dragon. Xolta wondered if she looked the same way. A smile crept to her lips at the image.

"I had originally left on an assignment to find and kill a phoenix that had been plaguing a family of griffins." He spoke softly, eyes glazed over, lost in the memory.

"After my work was done, the phoenix dead and the griffins once again safe. I left, heading back home. However, on my way back, I met the most gorgeous dragoness I had ever seen."

Her heart fluttered at his words; her stomach turned somersaults.

"After falling for you, I stayed away, even if it meant I would never see anyone I knew again. To this day, I would still do it all over again for you." Xolta noticed a small change in Draconus's eyes, going from a soft light whenever he saw her, to a dark cold, usually she noticed that changed whenever he was asked about his past, or the moments right before they sacrificed their son, it was a look she had come to charish over the years, appearing and disappearing just as fast.

Tears flowed to her eyes, his words giving her strength they never had before. Perhaps it was because she always doubted his love. His words threw her doubt away, love flooding her heart. She turned back to the forest, this time finding the strength inside to enter the place in which she had been born.

Before they entered the forest, a dragon dove down, opening his wings far later than was safe and landed softly on the ground. A strong wind pushing outward.

Xolta was surprised to see a descent so fast still land safely. The only reason he wasn't severely injured or dead was magic. It was the only thing she could think of, and a use of magic she hadn't even thought of before now.

The dragon was golden scaled, his belly the same. His horns arched in front of him, ending in deadly points. His claws end in sharp tips.

Mostly sharpened within the last day, Xolta thought to herself, sizing him up. She stood ready to fight for her life. From the way he was breathing, Xolta knew he could smell their stench of dark magic. They hadn't even tried to hide it. Daconus figured it best to go with all their secrets laid out.

His lemon-colored eyes moved between them.

"Why are two dragons steeped in the scent of dark sorcery trying to enter our lands?" Steam billowed out of his nostrils.

Xolta was still unsure of Britosa's influence on the clan. No one had heard anything from her in hundreds of years. Why suddenly start influencing the clans again? Still, there was no going back now.

"My name is X-Xolta." She stammered on her name, not having used it in over twenty years, too afraid that what happened to her daughter would happen to her.

"This is my mate, Draconus." She waved her paw at her mate.

"We were told by a messenger of Britosa, my daughter, that we were to head here where the first of dragon kind would have prepared the clan for our arrival."

The gold dragon's eyebrows scrunched up, confusion clouding his eyes.

"I know nothing of the sort. Britosa would never have anything to do with your wretched kin--"

A roar broke his words, the dragon backing up a step.

"I would think very hard about the next words you say to my mate.," Draconus bellowed.

Xolta's heart soared for Draconus. If they had been alone, she would have wrapped him in her wings.

She gave Draconus a silent thank you, his eyes radiating love that pierced Xolta to her soul.

Turning back to the gold dragon, he was thinking very hard about his next words indeed. Before he said anything else, two more dragons landed before them, one as orange as the sun, and the other green with darker green spots--a perfect camouflage.

"What seems to be the problem here?" the green one spoke.

Xolta cut in: "We are trying to re-enter the clan. We were told by my daughter from beyond the grave we are to come here. She said you would need us in the coming days."

The green one looked at her, his eyes like the ocean.

"Bind them and take them in."

Before she could protest, two dragons leapt on them from behind, clamping cold metal around their wings. While they were distracted, the newest two dragons in front ran and bound their paws with chains.

"What are you doing? We were told we would be welcomed!" Xolta screamed, her voice scaring away a flock of birds hidden in the trees.

"We lost contact with Britosa a short while ago. We know nothing of your arrival. The only reason we are taking you in is because you claim Britosa sent you."

Technically, it was her daughter, but Xolta wasn't going to correct him if it got them both killed.

The two dragons behind them, ones they had never even noticed until they attacked, prodded them forward by poking their tails much harder than needed. A spark of pain shot up the base of her spine. Reluctantly bound, they started the journey into Dravellian.