"Hey!" He knocked at the door, almost banging it off its hinges. He never really did learn his strength, and years brought no wisdom in magic learning. "Are you going to get up, or just stay inside all day? There's a lot to do to prepare for winter. Or, are you just going to keep freeloading off the rest of us when we're actually putting in work all day?"
"Stop lying. All you do is sleep anyway. Anastasia does more just by existing."
"Harsh," Romulus responded, still banging on the door. He normally disliked his human form, since it took so much longer to get anywhere, but it was far past ridiculous at that point. Every Dragon that bothered to care or at least stick their nose into the situation took on the form and tried their hand at rousing the halfling from her own misery. "Hey, Ana! If you don't at least go hunting today, then Tear Fang's going to kick you out! He's coming back from Kera today!"
But the room remained silent, its round wood door still in place. Their noses didn't pick up the smell of fire, so she must've not lit it recently.
And the two Dragons began to worry, just a bit. No one had actually managed to see the lady since she holed up in her room a month prior. For sure, it coincided with the departure of the girl. As far as Lucia's expressions went, and the obvious behavior her daughter was exhibiting, it didn't seem as if they'd had the chance to reconcile.
"She's not dead, is she?" Romulus turned to his partner, bronze scales itching where they'd failed to pull away from skin. He felt so vulnerable, and the prospect of having to bury a dead human made it feel like bugs were crawling on him. "She's still part Dragon. She doesn't need food that often, right?"
Beo shrugged. His own yellow scales dotted his face decoratively, not from lack of skill, unlike his counterparts. "She's still part human, too. It's been a month. I wouldn't be surprised if she was dead."
"But she's the daughter of a goddess and the mother of a Deviant. She can't die that easily."
Beo turned with heavily-downward-pulling eyebrows. "You don't seem to understand human anatomy. Maybe I should drag you out of Fangre for once, and make you explore the world?"
"I'm not trying to get slain by a god." Romulus turned back to the door, feeling his own arms awkwardly while crossing them. "I'll stay right here."
It didn't smell like "rotting corpse," and they most definitely both knew what that smelled like. In fact, it didn't smell like anything at all.
"Should we?"
"Be my guest," Beo waved a hand towards the door, stepping back. His voice hit the air without context to anyone that hadn't been listening with their minds. "If the halfling is dead, I'm not telling Lucia."
"And I'm not telling Tear Fang."
The two Dragons glanced at each other one last time. They were somewhat attached to the halfling that had grown up in their community for eleven years before firing off on her own adventure in defiance of her parents. It wasn't much, besides teaching her how to hunt, attempting to teach her how to roar, and failing in teaching her how to fly.
But it was enough to make them pause for a few more moments, before Romulus grabbed onto the handle and-
"What?"
"..."
There was no one inside.
"Thank Berdine," they sighed, letting a tension out of their chests they hadn't noticed was there.
"She's not here."
...
"Wait a minute, she's not here? Then where is she?"
"I was fairly sure I felt her presence in Fangre this morning."
The room was dark. The bedding was a mess, on the slim four posts that stuck up from where they'd been conjured almost a quarter of a century earlier. The shelves, bent into the walls with more earth magic, were full to the brim with tchotchkes and knickknacks of all kinds. Books were piled on the floor, ones that were recognizably likely stolen from Tear Fang's library, to which she'd never had access...
"How did she get in there?" Romulus was in disbelief, sweeping into the room. The bronze hair on his head, overly short since it felt tickling and strange on his face and neck, looked black. "Lucia put a seal on it...there's no way she broke into it. She's just a halfling."
"Which books?" Beo snapped, pushing Romulus out of the way to dive at the pile. Already, worry was piling up. It was one thing if it was just some halfling they'd watched over, reading them, and another if it was the overly-worrisome mother of a Deviant.
They read the titles, one by one. There were many there. It was like she'd made not only one trip, but two, or three, or four...
"'Introduction to Dragonology?'" Romulus muttered, picking one up from the bed. It had been hidden beneath rolled-up Rogue-skin fur. "What would she need this for?"
"'On Halflings and Dragons,' 'Introduction to the Life Cycle,' 'The History of the Angels," Beo shook his head, sifting through each one. Halfway through the pile and he didn't think it could get any worse. "'The Thousands Years War.'"
Beo picked up that last book. Possibly, it was the worst of them all. Being at the bottom of the pile, had it been read first, or was it to be read last? Or had they all been read already?
"Romulus."
"Huh?" the bronze Dragon looked up, seeing the kneeling, transformed Dragon amidst the books below the full shelf. He dropped his own find back onto the bed. "What'd you find?"
The book seemed to have not completely closed, despite having its two covers parallel to the other and many others able to stack on top of it. Upon further inspection, there seemed to be something stuck between its pages. Out of the top came a long, thin chain, of silver.
"A cross?"
Clearly, it was enchanted. The Deviant's magic, though what the spell was, Beo couldn't tell. Every Deviant had had their own special way of doing things, besides the restricted magic that those beyond the nonhuman continent used, and the more advanced magic that the Elves, Dwarves, Fae, and Dragons, still used from ancient times...but on a scale meant to be unnoticeable and unthreatening to the gods.
"What's that necklace?" Romulus asked, leaning over. "And why are there so many Olei Latrun books here? It's like she was specifically looking for them."
Beo's chest stuttered. Being small like a human was something he was more used to than any other Dragon besides Tear Fang, but its size and anatomy sometimes still caught him off-guard. The two lungs that he'd assumed rested safely behind his rib cage were highly inefficient when paired with the chemicals of the body. It was perhaps his misfortune for being so good at transformation magic.
The cross was used as a bookmark in The Thousands Years War, but were only maybe thirty pages read before being shut on that silver necklace. Seeing how the books were all damaged in the same way, when looking closer, it seemed that she'd gone through...all of them.
"But could she even see the text on the last pages?" Romulus shook his head, glancing further about the room. A newly-made desk stood beside the bed, but it was perfectly bare of any clues as to the goings-on of the room whatsoever. "She couldn't have, right? Only those that practice our ancient magic system can see it. She was taught the modern restricted one."
"You said it yourself," Beo sighed, standing up. Even if she hadn't managed to read the back pages of a certain world-traveling immortal that Beo himself admired, attempting to follow in his footsteps, the text in the main portions was damning already. "Being the mother of that girl, she probably learned some things, enough for the book to recognize her as worthy."
Lucia had left a month ago, not long after she sent the Deviant and that green runt of a Dragon off to the west. Her husband had been gone for longer. The village of Dragons was preparing on its own for winter, needing no defined leader to function. Habits of hundreds of years, since Fangre had been set up almost six hundred years ago, had been instilled too harshly with the seasons in the body of every Dragon living there for them to be broken.
"Well, her mana trail is here, so she must've been in this room until at least a few days ago. Shouldn't we trace it?"
"Let's take the books back to Tear Fang's place first. Leaving these here wouldn't do any good for anything."
There were only a dozen, enough for the both of them to carry. The weight was nothing to them, though it was awkward for Romulus to maneuver his arms in a way he didn't usually have to do. Still a young Dragonling, almost three hundred years old, he didn't seem keen at all on the prospect of visiting Kera to be tested into adulthood. Practicing transformation magic, or really doing any type of magic at all that he didn't already use in his daily life, seemed useless unless for moments like those: visiting their halfling residents during the time they lived there.
The first child had already left fourteen or so years ago. The third, for an apprenticeship in Strathmis perhaps last year - Beo wasn't sure, since he didn't visit Fangre often enough to know the specifics.
And the second child remained, still in the nest, in her early years of adulthood. Out of all the children, for the second daughter to be the last left came as a shock to everyone, even when it was common knowledge that she was studying under her mother.
"Katerine," the yellow Dragon narrowed his eyes. "Where is she now?"
"Beo, you got back a month ago. How could you not have heard? She traps herself in Lucia's study every day to study. So boring."
They reached the end of the hallway, dusty stone floors beneath their feet. The books were thick and went up to their chins, Romulus wobbling from lack of stability. They passed no others since they were all out hunting, or visiting, or preparing for winter in some way. Hibernation was something only some older Dragons took on, so many materials needed to be collected for all those that would pass the winter awake and at their own leisure.
The wooden door was small, urging visitors to take on a likewise form in order to enter and peruse at will. It was almost ironic that those naturally small were not allowed entry, yet those naturally bigger were.
"We don't have to put them back in their slots, do we?"
"You are truly the most unmotivated being I've come across in all of my travels."
"You leave for fifty years and come back like you're an adult. Beo, we're the same age."
"And yet, who will pass their adulthood ceremony and gain entry to Kera, while the other stays behind like that runt Sherfire? I'll see you in another two hundred years, while I'm a hundred years gone."
"Pah!" the bronze Dragon dropped all of his books on a table, reacting to catch the ones sliding off the top of the pile. The long, rectangular room had been carved to purely fit knowledge inside, not people. The shelves in between each were thin and crammed, and the ceilings were far too low. That may have just been the perspective of a Dragon, though. "I'm lazy, but I'm not a runt. I don't need to study to pass that test. Besides, I'll still be an adult even if I don't, while that girl never will."
"True." He also set his stack of books down, looking towards the shelves. Not often did anyone visit the place, since it was considered more of a personal library for Tear Fang. If someone did visit, it was to borrow a book to refresh their memories, and not for long. They'd all already read everything in there anyway, years ago, and remembered the information. There wasn't really any point. "But you'll be a stupid one. Both the runt and Lawrence managed to get out of here before you. What does that say about you again?"
"That's it, I'm leaving," Romulus sighed, shrugging his way to the doorway as if fighting the air. "Stupid barrier."
"Almost couldn't make it through because you're so untrained, I know."
"Whatever. I'll be hunting if you need me."
"I won't."
The bronze Dragon cut back one last glare. "Just don't leave without telling anyone again, only to pop up ten years later like nothing happened. Tell someone."
"Sure," was called back over his shoulder, while staring again at the silver cross dangling from his fingers. It was so dainty - nothing like the crafted works he'd seen made in Strathmis, or the kinds that the Elves wore, which were simple yet large. It probably had some sort of function, but for all of his travels, Beo couldn't figure it out.
Anastasia Fang.
No, that wasn't right. What was her new last name? He'd left on his own travels, inspired to resume his decades of meandering after taking a short break in Fangre, right after she did. While she must've come back to visit, he only came back at Novembre's beginning. He'd heard that she had a husband and life somewhere, but had chased her Deviant daughter back to Fangre where the Deviant had made herself comfortable. Having just missed the Deviant as he arrived a day later, Beo was curiously finding her mana trail stepped beneath those of the others that commonly roamed the place...and recognizing it. For sure, that mana trail was something he'd come across outside of Fangre, but where? Zueltina, it felt like...or was it Hunoa? No, it could've also been in Strathmis. He wasn't sure.
Katerine took after her father. Her serious mood and harsh stare kept most from interacting with her, since there was no need to engage in pleasant conversation with one not so pleasant. Unlike her father, she was unwilling to interact with others, taking that "serious" facet of her personality distressingly far.
It had been ten years since Beo had seen her last, but he had a feeling that speaking with her would be just as unpleasant as always. Humans were meant to change to accompany their lifespans, choosing different values during different times of need, while Dragons and other long-lived races repeated their same patterns for hundreds or thousands of years due to their lack of pressure from time.
Ten years probably didn't dent a single one of her edges.
And he was right. Upon leaving the library, holding that cross in a loose grip so as to not crush it, he found the study of the goddess. The door was closed as always. The smell it had beyond, due to the multitudes of ingredients and potions that the lesser Dragons didn't seem to mind, almost drove him off.
"Katerine," he knocked. There was no answer, so he knocked louder and called out the same. "Katerine!"
Still no answer. He waited a few minutes, feeling that her presence was truly inside. It seemed to be leisurely peaceful.
Just some halfling, he sighed, turning away. There wasn't much to be expected of it.
Going back the way he came, the door still remained closed. It was grating on his nerves to possibly have the answer right there, but-
Should I fly in through the outside?
If he remembered correctly, the lesser Dragons that resided in the trees high up in the room used that place.
No, there's no need to degrade myself. I'm no lesser Dragon. In a hundred years, I'll be an adult.
So he would just have to ask someone else.
"Why are you holding my necklace?"
It was an unfamiliar voice. A woman's voice. A furious voice. Beo hadn't even noticed the woman's approach, and it made him turn around quickly to face her, caught off-guard.
"Katerine?" She'd come from the same direction as him, but he hadn't heard the door open. Was he lost in thought? But she was just a halfling. There was no way she could've sneaked up on him.
It was that same sour expression, but the face was different. Also, the hair was far more untamed, and a far brighter shade of red. She wore only simple clothes, a loose white shirt and brown pants. Her feet were bare and dirty, and there were leaves stuck to the bottom, as if she'd come from outside just then...not from down that dead end of a hallway from behind a door that had never opened. Even her mana trail seemed like it'd appeared out of nowhere, as if she'd just popped into existence at that moment.
"Anastasia," she bit out, stalking forward. Beo had a hard time believing that, searching for the cheerful, flamboyant little girl that had been only as tall as his hip the last time he'd seen her. Part of him was still convinced it was Katerine. "Beonret. Why is my necklace in your hand? Why would you invite yourself into my room?"
It felt like there were shadows wrapped around her. The hall was lit, and she was naturally a bright person, both in physical and mental aspects. However, something about her lowered chin, her drawn brows, her clenched lips, made it feel like the past had never existed.
"Anastasia?"
"Give it to me, now."
It seemed that fourteen years to a human still meant nothing. His expression, surprised, relaxed. His hand lifted, and she snatched the small silver piece no bigger than a thumbnail out of the air. Upon taking it into her chest, it went into a pocket, rather than around her neck. She seemed to refuse to wear it, even going as far as to make it a bookmark, but took solace instantly in having it returned. The moment it was in both of her hands, the shadows pulling at the corners of her personality seemed to merely become exhaustion.
"Ana-"
She pushed past him. There was no way she'd forgotten the Dragon, despite them never having been close, because she'd once made it a point to remember the name of every single that lived in Fangre. It was one of the things that made her special, besides her uncanny ability to play with fire and not get burned as a normal human mage would be. She recognized every single one of them, whereas it even took Lucia a dozen or so years before she had all of the names of the dozens that were in her husband's haven.
I have to go, her thoughts leaked, strides becoming more determined. The sight of a bag on her back emphasized her distress. I have to get back to Koraco.
And she was gone. There didn't seem to be any point in stopping her, seeing how she was focused on one task only and was interested in nothing else. Anastasia seemed to have forgotten to close off her mind, but the minds of others that could've connected must've felt how busy and rampant hers was and left her alone.
I need to go home.
Beo stood there, thinking. At least they knew she was alive. Or, he did. Romulus would probably figure it out later.
He hadn't had all of the pieces of the puzzle, as to what happened to the Deviant, why its relationship with Anastasia was so strained, where Lucia was, if Katerine would ever become a more pleasant person, if Romulus would ever learn proper magic, and the like. Coming back to Fangre seemed like a good idea months ago, when first making up his mind to leave Tsa-Min for a bit, but a new good idea was building itself in his mind: return to Tsa-Min.
And it is a good idea.
Maybe, if he came back in another ten years, he'd have the answers to the puzzle.
So she strode off, in search of his room. It was bare except for a single traveling bag, which he donned quickly enough. Anastasia was setting off on her own journey, and it seemed that a month of visitation was long enough to understand how things were going on at home. There wasn't anything really to worry about, except for Romulus' laziness.
A hundred more years, Beo, he told himself, walking out to the front entrance of the cave system. The outside chill was already reaching his skin, but transforming into his original one blocked it out instantly. Each iridescent yellow scale seemed to stand out in the winter light of the suns beyond the edge of the cave. He almost couldn't tell what time of the day it was. And Kera is yours.
"Just don't leave without telling anyone again, only to pop up ten years later like nothing happened. Tell someone."
...I don't think he'll mind.
"See you in ten years, Fangre," the Dragon quipped to his own ears, launching over the edge. "I'm going home."
-X-
"Come on, Earl," the woman pleaded, holding the necklace in a deadly grip. She didn't want to put it on and be disappointed. Watery eyes were prepared for when he didn't respond. "Please talk to me."
The silver clasped underneath her hair. She stood on the edge of the forest, preparing a long journey home. Katerine's words refused to leave her head, and instead proceeded to echo.
"You should just give up, Ana. She's going to die anyway. Didn't you read the books I gave you?"
"Come on, Ana. You're dull, not stupid. Surely you can read text on a page?"
"Why chase her all the way here, when she clearly wants nothing of you? She's doing you a favor, anyway. Isn't it sad when mothers see their children die?"
"It's a lost cause, Ana. But then again, you were always kind of dumb like that, weren't you? Too slow to know when you're out of place."
"Come on, Earl," she pleaded, holding on to it and closing her eyes. It used to be natural for them to talk like that when long distances apart. Their daughter had specifically made those necklaces, five years ago, for them to speak even all the way across the world. There was no way the connection was failing, especially with how much mana she poured into it every day. "Please answer. I know you hear me."
If he was wearing his necklace too, at least. She hoped he was, though that hope was thrumming with her heart up her throat with how nervous she was at the prospect of Katerine's words being true.
Earl always wore his necklace, and so did Ana. They'd never specifically promised to never take them off, but it was something to narrow eyes at when the other wasn't wearing it. It was the only connection they had at that point, and the guilt assaulting her heart, along with her grip on the necklace pulling the silver into her neck, and her heart up her throat, was coming to a boiling point.
Maybe it's karma, she thought, feeling the tears already reaching her lashes. Red hair brushed the bottom of her bag, which was far too light for the travel plans the woman had. It took two months of solid traveling to reach around one side of the world to the other, even with carriages, boats, horses. There were no shoes on her feet to bear the brunt of the journey she was desperately waiting for confirmation to set off on. For ignoring him.
She was still upset. Every day it felt like she was upset. Every dawn, every dusk, every meal, every bath, she was still trying to put aside her emotions and answer the man calling out to her from the other side of the cross. But the blame she had for him was ingrained in her body, it felt like, and the tears still threatened to come up, months later, when remembering what it felt like to leave her home with finality in mind.
So no. When he pleaded that she stayed, when he held her hand and promised to get their daughter back, to fix things, she couldn't feel anything for him. When he even kept going, constantly pinging the back of her mind for a conversation, as she traveled under the shade of green trees, through the heat of hot deserts, through the jungles of the humid south, through the cold mountains, across the ocean, through more forests...calling out to her, just for a word, just to see if she was okay, whatever he may have been calling out to her for, she didn't care...Ana kept silent. She would get her daughter, and then, maybe, she'd answer her husband. Ana was not "useless," like many other noble wives, and she did not hold parties and drink tea and gossip and do whatever it was that they did with their time. She would not sit back and wait for her husband to solve the problem that he had created.
Ana was done waiting. It'd been months since their daughter left, and there was still no hint of the "problem" being solved. Until the very end of summer, she waited, and the curious thing was that instead of spending summer vacation with the children as they came home for their first long break since their first school year started...instead of holding celebrations for the summer solstice festival...instead of touring the fief as they always did...instead of visiting family in the capital...instead of anything that she'd been expecting would've been her life for years to come, as a married mother, and a noblewoman...she was biting her nails and looking out the window.
But the children, after a short visit, never came back. Everything else at that point was expected to not fall in line. In fact, the opposite happened. It felt like instead of being a festive season, or even a good year, things turned on their head. With the oppressive mood of the household, the stares that felt so accusative, the curt interactions of the servants that she'd once gotten along so well with...
She couldn't breathe anymore. Just to exist in that place felt like she was being shut out from the world that was all around her, pushed into a small bubble of shame for alienating the most beloved members of the house.
Ana was sure that no other noblewoman had ever been pushed out of her own house by servants for reasons like those. It was laughable.
The doors were locked by her magic. There was nothing overly-valuable to be cautious of anyone stealing, or to be cautious of it being a danger to the eventual cleaning maid, but it didn't feel right to let anyone in. It felt like, if they cleaned away her scent, and they aired out the room enough, they'd erase her from the household like she'd never existed.
Then, there would've been two de Libellule wives, within eight years of each other, that had disappeared without a trace into the middle of the night.
They wouldn't miss me as much as they miss Lizzy, Ana thought. And she was sure of it. It wasn't like they were happy with me marrying Earl anyway.
But it didn't matter anymore. Ana's blame, her anger, their shared problem, their shared fear, their inability to react in the way they both should've, as parents, with the type of daughter they had. The lack of acceptance for her marriage that she faced, the lack of respect as a noblewoman that she got, the lack of tolerance she got from her own family...
Drowning in the hot soup of her own emotions and problems, shutting out the world that didn't seem to want her anger, it didn't seem like she'd ever wake up.
But Katerine, for all of her faults, had been kind enough to snap Ana out of her trance with words as sharp as their father's claws.
"You know what's funny?" the young woman, with furrowed brows and a rosy red in her cheeks, almost out of joy, spoke, while grinding tiny blue scales into a mortar. They broke easily, like those of a newborn Dragon. Ana's eyes narrowed miserably at that sight. "You're here, in Fangre, reading these books and trying to wake up to the world that they all hid from us. And yet, by becoming aware here, you miss all that's happening there. I wonder what'll be left when you get back." She shrugged, beginning to pour the fine blue powder into a vial. She held it up to the light. "At least you'll finally understand why, upon finding the wreckage, your little human family was doomed from the start."
The silver was drawing a harsh red line, almost as bright as blood, into the back of her neck. Yet, the woman gripped the necklace forward as if she was praying.
And she stood there, listening. Calling out.
Please, Earl, she pleaded. The guilt was again her nearest companion and most overwhelming emotion. Her mental voice sounded as desperate as his had, before. The tables had turned, and she didn't like being on the other side. Please, answer me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, please answer me. Please tell me you're alright.
The same words. They were the same words. A different name being called, a different voice.
Different tears of devastation when the other side remained perfectly, utterly, silent.
But other than that, it was the same, and that made it hurt so much more.
The ground beneath her feet began to turn murky when her head fell forward, unable to hold the liquid in the pools of her eyes any longer. The brown tree trunks of the forest she stood on the edge of were tall up into the air. The foliage didn't start until at least twenty pouriks up, cleared away by the massive Dragons that moved within the midst of the trunks when too lazy to fly.
This is so painful, she gasped aloud, dropping the necklace back onto her chest. Her hands fell to the sides. I'm so sorry, Earl. I don't blame you anymore. It's my fault too. I shouldn't have tried to push this burden onto you. I shouldn't have left you alone. I shouldn't have left the house. I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for what I did. Just please, Earl.
She waited, and waited. She apologized in her mind until the strength to keep on thinking it, ran out. The cross didn't change one bit, and there were no voices in her mind other than her own.
The suns were setting. But the sky was gray, as winter was only a month away. Autumn didn't seem as vibrant and beautiful as it usually did, and it hadn't the whole time she was there.
Dragons were returning for the day. The hunt for supplies, for those that would not hibernate in the winter, was done until the sun rose next. They came from all directions, little by little, whether dirty or sleek, having been active or passive while out and about. They didn't seem to pay attention to the lone half-Dragon that stood quietly, head down, beneath the shallow reaches of the lowest excuses of branches and leaves.
"Anastasia," one called out, approaching from the forest. An older Dragon, another "villager" in the caves of Fangre. "It's cold out. Surely you do not plan to travel at night, and in this weather?"
The Dragon hadn't been expecting an answer back. While it could not hear the thoughts channeled towards a private communication device, her emotions were not sealed off from the world.
Hencia was always somewhere around, whether faded into the background of the blue sky when free of clouds, or small and somewhat distinct, depending on the day of the month. It didn't choose to show itself yet, oddly enough, and the world was stuck between Glaedis and Saedli shedding their last light, and the night sky attempting at prominence before its time had come.
So it was cold. It was dark. There didn't seem to be anything about that moment worth noting. Anastasia didn't find the will to lift her head, or speak her mind.
"Your feet are bare in the snow, child."
The animals had all taken off for the season. Besides the one that hung, limp, from the Dragon's clean mouth, it didn't seem likely that anything alive in the forest besides the man-eating trees would make the world seem less dead.
"Anastasia-"
Her head picked up, though tilted weakly as if it could not sustain itself any longer. The waves of red, dead without light, pulled themselves out of her face. Blushed cheeks, whether from the cold or the tears, matched her blistering feet.
The Dragon's prey dropped as it turned its head, placing one gray snout to her face. A breath of hot air made her hair fly up and made it hard to breathe, but it was warm, and it felt good, so she closed her eyes and accepted the gift she was given. The animal lay almost peacefully on the ground with hardly a wound on it, but the smell of its blood reached Ana's own nose as it was breathed onto her face. It was dead, and had been for hours. Growing up eleven years in her home before leaving for the great outside world that no Dragon seemed brave enough to venture out for, had taught her that.
"It is a difficult path, and a hard journey. Your bare feet may bleed, and the muscles of your body may be sore, but do not cease your march. Time is not your enemy here, nor are the gods, or other beings of this world. In times like these, you are your own adversary, and your own ally. Fly if you can, run when at all possible, walk if you must, and crawl when all else fails. Keep going, Anastasia. Your journey is only just beginning."
The Dragon's breath ceased. Its magnificence was lost on the woman that had grown up seeing such awesome beings, as they were born and died around her. It was a rare occurrence, but she was one of the few "humans" that were "lucky" enough to have experienced it.
She was also one of the few to share their blood.
The prey was lifted again by its neck, dangling loosely, as the Dragon went on about its business like nothing had happened. As it walked on all four limbs, wings tucked in at its sides, the ground had large prints left in the snow. That seemed to have been its only sign of passage through that path of the forest, besides the woman that suddenly smelled like a dead animal. She was also suddenly very warm, and her tears were blasted away from her face by a strong wind that wouldn't let them be.
It felt almost like she'd been warmed by a kindly, harmless fire.
A Dragon, she mused, staring up towards the sky still dark. Harmless.
And to her, they all seemed that way. It was not just because she was strong herself, for she was still much weaker compared to them. No. It was because they'd always been kindly and harmless fires walking around as giant friends and family, or shifted ones, as they helped raise her and her siblings up from the very beginning.
Perhaps that was why she returned home...besides chasing the slight chance that her daughter had appeared there. Though she'd hardly had the time to bask in the remnants of her childhood, since they all surely treated her as if she was still a child despite her being married and with children, it was still comforting just to be there.
But it was not home. Yes, it was home, but it was not "home..."
Not the home that needed her, at least.
"And Anastasia."
The Dragon hadn't paused while approaching the base of the cliff. Its dull gray scales seemed to make it blend in with the landscape, despite being a moving figure not that far away.
She looked towards it, hand lifting up to the cross again. Though she would have no answer, that didn't mean it wasn't her closest connection to home. It was comfort, if it would no longer serve its original purpose, anyway.
"Worry, but not to the point of incapacity. All have their own journeys to make, but we are each other's suns and stars. When necessary, we guide one another in the dark, and shine together in the day. Believe in your family. Believe in your child, while she is still yours, and shine through her darkness with the flame of the Dragon inside you. You mean more to her than you'll ever know."
And it leapt up, setting a flurry of white into the air to redecorate the surroundings. No new flakes came down from that sky so high above, one that she still never flew in, and had lost the dream for. The Dragon disappeared into the cave, like all the rest, until the suns were surely gone and night had taken over.
Eyes turned from the sky to the ground. She wasn't quite able to fly yet, literally or figuratively, but she could run. And, fast. She could run very fast. Faster than she'd been able to the first time she left, over a dozen years ago.
The cross was warm. The Dragon's breath, the grip of her hand, the heat of her body as she replaced it back down on her neck. Only one, or all three, maybe, had made it so. It was enough to make her feel connected, while taking her first steps away from home and to home. The path through the dark forest was almost highlighted in her mind, as mana sparked in her body. After a bit, all she could see was red, putting together her spell without a word from her mouth.
Image, mana, and a word.
...no. Just the first two, actually.
Earl, I'm coming. I don't know how long it'll take me, but I'm coming. I love you. I miss you. I'm coming.
And the woman disappeared into darkness.