Queen of Fire and Shadows

Part 20

I scratch Xen where she tells me I can, which happen to be behind her wings.

She is a beautiful dragon, she's mainly white but the top of her tail, her legs and her forehead, are a lavender purple.

Her feet, her nose and the tip of her tail and wings, are periwinkle blue. She also has this string necklace with a Lapis Lazuli tied to the end. It's hard to believe that this beautiful creature will rule in a supposedly fierce way.

She's so gentle—with me and with anyone she knows is harmless. Also, according to Magnus (yes, Magnus was there, he and Leith had escaped the toxic gas and had fled to Leith's home where they told his parents the whole story) dragons have to bond with a living thing for them to understand what they say and vis versa. I don't know what she's saying—but Arthur does, apparently he has known Xen since she was two years old, since he bonded with Thane—her bodyguard dragon, he became her bodyguard elf.

I look around and wish Caleb is here. For some reason, lately I can't stop thinking about Caleb. My thoughts constantly backtrack to when he nearly died and the reaction he had when we first met. It's like he's some addictive drug that I'm meddling with. I have to stop. I shake my head even though it's no use.

You are too trusting, little queen...

The shadow reaper's melancholy voice rings through my head. Maybe I am too trusting. Is that good thing? What if someone I trust this very moment stands up and tries to kill me? Maybe trust is my weakness, how can that be? I had no friends in Tortura, I think I was the only one who had no one by my side, I was the loner.

The new kid. The green weed.

The names run across my mind over and over again. A certain state of dizziness washes over me, because one moment I'm sitting up and the next moment I'm lying down with black spots in my vision. I don't know how to breath, my lungs relax but no air comes out.

You are too trusting little queen.

You are too trusting.

Too trusting.

Trusting.....

I look at the familiar beachside. With a start I realise that this is where I saved that statue girl—the one with swirling patterns around her eyes. I turn around and spot the girl, exactly where I left her, lying as if she were sleeping, her right hand is occasionally dampened by the small waves. Her head is resting against her right forearm. Her legs are covered by salt stained green pants. Her blonde white hair is now dry and stringy, the salt causing it to curl entrancingly across her face. As I step forward I realise two things. That the glass has somehow been removed from the sand—and—that there is another body. A boy. He has smokey brown hair and is wearing a pair of black boots with a black long sleeve and black pants. A grey cloak wraps around his back. A bow and arrow rest not far away from him. He is also unconscious.

I walked towards the unconscious girl. Knowing she is more familiar than the boy. I'm just a few feet away from her when I hear voices. I look up from her calm face and see four figures casually walking towards us. I walk two and a half metres towards them when I stop—without really knowing why.

They are all boys. One of them looks the most familiar as he walks closer. When they are close enough for me to see their faces clearly, the middle boy catches my attention immediately. He has bright orange hair that swirls around his head like a small bonfire. His light green eyes are thoughtful and soft as he laughs at a joke his friend tells him. "Do a trick Sparky! You promised!" A small boy at the front exclaims. The middle boy laughs and nods. He stops and almost synchronically, the rest of the group does too. He holds his hand out and concentrates—two seconds of suspense later, a little flame bursts into life on the tip of his index finger. The boy squeezes his closed eyes harder and the flame grows bigger and creeps up his arm—in an instant the flame is covering up the whole of his left arm.

He opens his eyes in triumph and as soon as he loos up the flame snuffs out and he looks at the unconscious girl lying on the sand. The rest of the group look over and the tallest of them all is the first to say something. "Blimey—what a beauty she is!" I snort and look at the fire boy—'Sparky'. He notices immediately that she isn't awake and runs over to her.

No one follows. He feels her pulse and sucks in a hopeful breath. "Someone get help!" He calls. No one moves.

The boy looks up from inspecting her face and looks at them ,half crazed. "Go! That's an order!"

Still no one goes to get help. The boy stands up and strides over to his friend's unblinking faces—maybe they're in shock. "What's wrong with you guys?" He shouts angrily.

"If you help her you will betray the reason you were born." They reply simultaneously in a monotone. "You will never know your true purpose in this world if you help this girl. She is ours."

I know that something—or someone has possessed these boys to say these things. I think the boy knows that too. "Snap out of it! All of you!" Immediately the group is normal and two boys run off to fetch help under a second order from the fire boy.

He turns and kneels down and picks up the angelic young girl. Another, older man has taken the other unconscious boy. Walking up the beach.

"Don't worry—I'll always know what to do with my life." The fire boy murmurs to someone.

I look at the spot where the girl once lay and suck in a shocked breath. A sort of puddle about the size of my fist swirls hypnotically. But that isn't what caused my reaction. It's what the what the puddle is made of that scares me.

It's made of shadows.