Aithne Melgren has been in the shadows too long. She has been forgotten, she has been ignored. But she goes for the Riders Quadrant in hopes to escape, to have freedom. To soar through the skies with her very own dragon.
But she has something speci...
There seem to be dragons of every colour out in the wild. Yet we only seem to find the basic ones. Who knows if there are other species, adorning various colours, and swishing other kinds of tails? Will we ever live to find out? Or will the ever-blooming greed in us overpower the desire to preserve
—A Special Chapter from 'Questioning All We Know' by (Undisclosed)
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Puffs of air hit my skin as my eyes blink open. I stifle a yawn and clear my vision. The haziness and the black spots disappear to reveal cerulean, unblinking eyes gazing at me. A second passes by before I come to my senses.
With a flinching yelp, I exclaim, "Oh my god! You damn near killed me there." Those magical eyes peer at my body, but the dragon keeps quiet. I let out a loose breath. "Are you feeling any better? Is your leg still aching? And how in the world did you even manage to get maimed?"
'Questions, questions. Khalida, I shall refrain from answering them. You will find out in due time. But what I can do is; thank you. I greatly appreciate your kind help and know that I understand how hard it was to turn your little friend away. Now, I must get going and so should you. Bye-bye little dragon.'
And with a beat of her wings and a mighty gust of wind, the white serpent was flying to her home in the vale. I trail her figure with my eyes until she is simply a speck of a dot in the night sky.
I turn around and start walking through the path Aspyn and I used to come here. With thoughts swirling around my mind, the most prominent one is; how exactly do the dragons converse with me?
As we have learned over the past few months, only the riders who have been chosen by their dragons can telepathically speak with one another. But here I am, conversing with dragons by mind before even going through threshing.
Another thought pops into my head; how is Father—General Melgren doing? It has been the better part of the stick not thinking about him because it resurfaces memories that I want to lock somewhere far away.
🐉 ~🌷
A small, frivolous child sits in a sea of flowers. With her hands holding a carving of a dragon made out of wood, she mimics a dragon flying. A normal kid, one would think.
A shadow looms over the young girl–barely seven years of age—and picks her up without warning. Aithne flinches when a hand comes in contact with her skin.
With big, round eyes, Aithne glances at the man's stern features before dropping her gaze down to the floor. Only when she is let down onto the ground, does Aithne let her eyes meet with her father.
"Would you care to explain what you were doing, playing like a kid, when you should be training?" General Augustine Melgren's voice booms throughout Aithne's ears, loud enough to crack her eardrums.
Tears threaten to pool in the girl's eyes, but she stands, faces stoic. "I was on break, father."
General Melgren's eyes go wide, and the palm of his hand crashes into Aithne's cheek. The force of the strike turns Aithne's head to the right. General Melgren's face returns to its stern demeanour.
