~ 40 ~

Enter Stage Right; Exit Stage Left

The king, the princess, the father, and the daughter walked through the dark, torch-lit dirt path. I could make out their conversation if I focused my ears—or frills, mind you. But my heart wasn't in it. I had decided to keep a low float over the village.

And their words weren't for me to hear.

The king's power had been well-known. His daughters, because of their name, were targeted for that power. They could kill his men and his family—but none could kill the man himself. I could only hope that, despite their history of distance and negligence, somehow, they could confirm something with each other.

Not while he was empowered by the Red Dragon.

The end of the Old Dragons is already over.

Had the dragons already known of the phenomenon? Some spiritual sensation that spoke of the replacements that stole their kind? It was safe to bet that there were others out there like me. There would also be other, normal dragons, aware of this fact.

That, on our encounter, could release my secret.

A problem for another day.

You can tell her the truth.

Once you're ready.

The father and daughter stopped before a stone fountain in the village. It was barely seen, though the lazy, cold water splashed. Zinnine had placed his hand on Astria's shoulder. What was he telling her? That he always loved her? That he wanted to be there more for her?

I wondered how much that helped.

I imagined an abandoned child could be healed from their parents' confirmation. That they did love them, deep down. It would quell a lot of pains and questions. But the lifetime spent alone, and the hurt sustained from his abuse, wouldn't be abated.

Still better than nothing.

Zinnine looked to the sky to see my silent, silhouette form and commanded me to the ground with an inward wiggling of his fingers. Slowly, carefully, I descended, the winds from my wings sweeping dirt across the street—shutters swinging and creaking.

Then my feet touched the ground with a thud, the earth set to bear my weight, my vibrations settling beneath the dirt. I looked down at the two puny humans before the fountain. I didn't speak as my throat felt incapable of words.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Zinnine opened while removing his arm from Astria's shoulder. “And thank you for allowing me a final moment with my daughter. You have done more for me, my family, and my kind than we deserved. Is there any way I can repay you? Or any service of the sort that I might be able to provide?”

I looked down to the side and thought about it.

An idea popped.

And then I looked back at him.

“You have the power of the Red Dragon, right?” My question didn't expect an answer, and I looked to Astria. “And you have the power of the Yellow Dragon. There have been a few rumours floating across the land that I've been curious about.”

Then I looked at them both. “Activate your powers and join claws. See if you can sync.”

The two looked at each other out of confusion about the request or because 'sync' wasn't a common word. They would mistake it for dragon-lingo. Indulging me, their respective hands glowed, red and yellow, a swirling wind casting outward from both.

Scarlet intertwined with gold as the unique stream phased beneath their skins, their veins glowing. Their claws reached and clasped together, their spines flicking from the intense connection. The exchange was completed in seconds, with a finalizing shock wave.

Once done, the two stepped away, breathing heavily, with magic extinguished.

“How do you two feel?”

Zinnine, hunched over, spoke. “Charged... and exhausted.”

I narrowed my eyes and nodded. “That'll do it.” My gaze flicked to Astria. “And you?”

She was hunched over like her father, and the two looked at each other with hung shoulders, sharing a chuckle. She looked up at me next. “Empowered... and only slightly exhausted.”

Zinnine lightly shoved her aside.

I smiled. “Seems like humans can join like some dragons as well.”

Something about being a liar is that, so long as you withhold a few truths, people will believe in your hints—for a time. I cleared my throat and continued. “Magical dragons can connect on a near-instinctual level—if only because that's all that most are capable of. They lack the strength of a pure-blooded dragon, so it helps them fight and defend.”

I saw the questions on their faces, but the shake of my head denied them.

“I don't know how it works with humans. I don't know if you can shift or merge powers. The two of you should have touched souls for a moment—that'll be a lingering effect.” I decided to leave out the explanation of that one. It would be better for them to come into the thoughts and feelings that would emerge from their connection on their own. “But the reason why I had the two of you join was for this. Astria, could you pull out some parchment from your travel sack?”

Astria reached around to her back, slowed by the mystery, pulling the sack to her side. She loosened its fabric-top, fishing a hand inward. After a moment of searching, she pulled out the paper. I nodded.

“Now, the feeling you had,” I started. “That connection when you joined claws. I want you to focus on that. Clutching that paper in your claw, think of your father. Whatever magic you use to teleport, use that same essence here. You two, your essence, you should feel like pinpoints to each other no matter the distance.”

Astria's eyes widened before closing, and golden magic unfurled across her hand, the yellow, luminescent claw shaping over it. The parchment floated onto its palm. Gold twinkled from the talons onto the parchment's material. It started to glow as well.

Zinnine raised his hand out of shock, a blast of red flaring from his wrist to the edge of his fingers. A concentrated, sunny orb manifested at the center of his claw, which flattened and spread. In a flash from both, the letter had left Astria's hand and appeared in her father's.

Both blinked at it, then at each other, entering nervous, elated laughter.

I continued without emotion. “Your connection will reduce the magic required for that spell. It'll go further than magic can in some regards.” This was theory instead of the truth—but I had reason enough to believe I was right. “Don't get me wrong. It'll take more out of you the greater the distance. The magic of the dragon you absorbed should be able to compensate for that. However, it's an affair best left before bed.”

And then I exhaled.

“You asked what I could ask from you, King Zinnine?” I continued to speak without expecting a response. The man himself seemed slowed and caught by my directness. Was this sudden confidence? Or a sudden inability to care about unimportant matters? “Then I have only one request. I'll look over your daughter. Guide her to wherever she needs to go before she can hit the world on her own.”

It occurred to me, then, that sometimes a nobody can be great, and a great man can sometimes be weak. One wasn't always great. Incredible strength can be born from a firm belief.

Only when their conviction and situation allowed them to be.

“All I ask is that you write to her,” I sounded my desire. “Not as a king. Maybe not even as her father. But as a person.” I nodded to them both. “Just... keep in touch when you can. Write to each other about the things you can't tell anyone else. Distance, sometimes, can help. It'll connect you two in a way nothing else can.”

I looked at the two. “Can you promise?”

The old man looked at his young daughter. He repressed decades of his inner existence. To bear it open to another... it seemed beyond him. An impossible task. His lips betrayed this fact—but then he saw his daughter.

Looked at her, truly, for the first time in a while.

Standing there in skin-tight clothing beneath a bulky cloak, outfitted with a stacked belt and filled sacks, a sword encased within joined sticks resting on her back. Her hood shadowed her face. But her bright skin and shining eyes illuminated her beauty.

He saw his daughter.

The short, midnight hair, reminiscent of her mother.

Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. He stumbled toward her weakly.

Astria didn't back away when the arms wrapped around her, and she was taken into the hug, tucked against her father's chest. He silently wept over her shoulder, holding his daughter close. Her hand reached for his back, clashing the fabric over his shoulder. Gripping it, she pulled on it, sinking into him further.

The two indulged in the other.

And soon, far too soon, they pulled away, tears in each other's eyes, which caused the other to raise their hand to brush them away. Both softly chuckled again. Then, in pressing their foreheads together, the father saw how much his daughter needed him.

And the daughter, for the first time in her life, saw how much her father needed her.

“I promise,” Zinnine shakily spoke. “Till the day I die, I shall write to you.” He pulled his hand away. “And a day after that as well.”

Astria swallowed thorns. “Me as well. Me as well... dad.”

I nodded at the two, letting them indulge. Turning to the night sky, I looked to the moon, covered in a haze, with a few dots of light breaking through the shield of clouds. It clicked in my mind, then, that I would have no such happy ending. I breathed in the night.

Standing in the middle of an empty port, in a world that was not my own, in a body barely belonging to myself, I realized this to be a curse. Everything would collapse against me. I would falter soon—or the world would crush me.

But that wouldn't be my purpose here.

I'd already known that no story existed here for myself. In the time that I got here, that I spent alone and mucking about, nothing but minor events had occurred. Nothing greater beyond myself was happening. There wasn't a compulsion to go somewhere or do something.

Even the dragon that had pulled me out of my grave called me nothing more than a Messenger.

I curled my claw as my tail wrapped around my legs, and its weight dropped at my feet. I knew that my purpose was to assist, to deliver a message—then perish. Part of me wondered if I could overcome that. If I could become something more. That if I could make this world desire me enough to impart a greater quest upon myself.

But, knowing my luck, that wouldn't be the case.

You are a messenger. Acquire the strength to hold the message well, and to make the needed journey to deliver it. Only then will your part will have been played. That is your fate. And there is nothing to consider beyond or around it. Everything is contained within it.

And all you can do.

Is play your part.