Rising of Ashes: a Dragon Story

Whispers of Return

I soared higher, leaving behind the complexities of duty and the whisperings of trouble, for the sanctuary where my heart could find peace.

~ ❈ ~

Soon, my feet touched down softly on the schoolyard, dust swirling around me as I landed. I scanned the area, my eyes sharp, searching. I couldn't spot any of my friends amidst the mundane ebb and flow of students, but I could feel them—their thoughts, their heartbeats, all resonating within the space that connected us.

My time with the Jedi had honed my sensitivities—life, in all its vibrant forms, was now an open book to me. I could navigate the myriad presences around me with an effortless grace, finding my comrades amidst the chaos without a moment's hesitation.

I approached the entrance and paused, casting a final glance around before pressing the button that prompted the doors to swing open. Stepping inside, I allowed my heightened senses to guide me. My classmates wouldn't have changed much since I had been away in another galaxy; they were in their final hours as seniors in high school, and I felt a pang of happiness for them. I had essentially graduated early, absent due to my otherworldly endeavors and training.

As I arrived at my classroom door, I hesitated just a moment—a heartbeat spent in gathering myself before stepping into the familiar. Pushing the door open, I saw them all: Elias, Erika, Samiuro, and even Sofia had come. My heart swelled, brimming with an aching kind of joy mixed with sorrow; these scoundrels were the ones I had missed dearly.

The room was suddenly smaller, the walls echoing with the life I had left behind, now so vibrantly before me. Their presence, a bittersweet reminder of all the unspoken tales and laughter I had missed, drew me in like a moth to a flame. Their faces tidied into my memory, I stepped forward, ready to rejoin the ragtag tapestry of friendship, stitched across time and space.

It was Elias who noticed me first, something I had anticipated from the keen young boy. His eyes widened as he exclaimed, a mixture of shock and recognition coloring his voice, "Y-Y/N?"

His voice seemed to pierce the stillness, and suddenly, as if on cue, the entire class turned to face me. A collective gasp swept through the room, each pair of eyes growing wider with disbelief. Samiuro wasted no time; with swift grace, she bounded over to me and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug that I returned just as fiercely.

I fought back tears, my throat tightening with emotion as I enveloped her with my wings, a protective cocoon of feathers. My tail gently curled around us, and I buried my snout in the nape of her neck, a gesture of intimate kinship.

"My electric friend," I purred, the rumble of contentment settling into the space between our embrace. Samiuro responded, her voice a tender whisper, softened by the tears she held back. "We've missed you so much," she murmured into my ear, her words a soothing melody against the cacophony of our reunion.

The room was awash with warmth, the weight of each moment apart crystallizing into the undeniable truth that here, in this embrace, was where I belonged—amidst the ones who had held onto hope for my return.

Soon enough, Samiro reluctantly released me, and I turned to face our teacher, Steinur. He bowed his head in a solemn greeting, imparting a respect that was felt rather than spoken. "Good to have you back, Y/n," he said, and I responded with a warm smile that reflected the authenticity of my gratitude. Samiro took my hand then, leading me to the seat partners I had shared space with before my departure—Helene and Oscar. Even the quiet boy from the back, who had always drifted on the periphery of my school life, offered me a smile—a subtle indicator that resonated within my chest.

For all this time, our history had been nothing but simple coexistence—neither hatred nor a particular fondness marring the neutrality. But now, it was clear that a quiet concern had been there, within him, within all of them. Their attention and gathered smiles made my heart soar just a little higher, a sense of belonging rekindling after the trials of distance and time.

"Now that we're all gathered, let's begin the day," announced Sveinung, our teacher. A collective sigh rippled through the classroom as he mimicked their exasperation, "Ah, save your chats with Y/n for the breaks, I promise." We delved into the day's lessons, but even the mundane couldn't dampen my spirit—I found myself smiling continuously.

My wings quivered with suppressed energy, occasionally fluttering in restrained excitement. The day unfolded with conversations more profound and animated than I had ever engaged in with Elias and Erika during all three years of schooling with them. It seemed that distance truly had the power to forge stronger bonds—the absence had only crystallized the value of the friendships I once took for granted.

As the day drew to a close, I stood and stretched, the familiar hum of the classroom around me. Soon, I felt hands gently finding my own, and I gasped slightly when Erika's presence drew near. His lips brushed against my cheek, then lingered tenderly at my collarbone. "Please, don't leave again," he murmured, his voice laced with a tremor—echoes of tears he had held back.

I gazed into his eyes, my smile a silent promise as I leaned into his embrace. The classroom erupted with whispers and cheers, our classmates having sensed the unspoken affection growing between us. But for now, I reveled in the comfort of being in the arms of someone I cherished.

And later this weekend, I was set to visit my guys in Korea—my heart hoping that time hadn't dulled their memories of me.