“No, not against an adult.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
The rustling grows louder, and Haime falls silent. Twigs snap, and a frog scurries out from under the bush. I’m holding my breath as the branches part and the gleam of dark eyes appears between the leaves. Solid black, they stare at us. They’re small, I realize, my brow furrowing.
The hissing heightens, and the bush shifts to reveal the naga entirely—a youngling. A male youngling, due to the lack of breasts. His tail slides forward and lashes out in warning. There’s fear etched across the boy’s dirty face.
I lower my weapon. “Are you alone, little one?”
He bares his teeth and snaps at me.
I take a step forward, free palm extended, disarming. “It’s okay,” I coo. Peering about, I don’t find any sign of adult nagas with him.
“Milly, what’s going on? Is… is he okay?” Haime says.
“I don’t know. Just stay back.” I focus on the boy, who’s pressed farther into the brush but still watching us—watching Haime. I shouldn’t try to help him, but he’s a child, no older than her, and even if he is a naga, it hurts my heart to think he’s all alone.
“Can we help him?” Haime asks.
Without answering, I put my dagger away and reach out to the boy. “It’s okay,” I say again. “You’re okay. We won’t hurt you.” Yet I know he could still hurt us.
His eyes shift to me, and he hisses loudly. I take another small step forward. There is now a softness to his gaze. Perhaps he will calm—but thunder sounds and he startles.
“No!” I cry as he slips into the bushes and vanishes.
“Wait!” Haime runs past me and dives into the brush.
“Haime. Stop!” But she’s already crashing through the plants ahead. I take after her as the first raindrops fall from above. “Haime! Don’t!” She doesn’t listen, doesn’t stop. My eyes dart every which way, searching everywhere for her trail.
“Please wait!” She calls out ahead.
“Haime!”
Soon after the noise of pursuit stops and my trail goes dead. I scream for Haime, but she doesn’t answer, my only response to the whoosh of rain falling upon the leaves around me. No, no, no. Backtracking, I search for signs of a trail but am only led back to the thick clearing of grass and brush, the place where I’d lost my ward.
Heart hammering, I yell for Haime again, my panic increasing by the second, turning full-circle. I swipe out my spear to push back the overgrown leaves and vines. I beg for any clue to where she’s gone. My sandals begin to stick as mud gathers at my feet. Soon, any tracks will vanish.
The storm will wipe her trail clean.
I scream louder, desperate for a response. I pivot again when I see it—a large cropping of mossy rocks, tucked between arching roots from a nearby tree. But it’s not the rocks that pull my attention, it’s the ancient remnants of a naga nest and the pit in the ground behind it, hidden between the rocks. I surge forward and crouch at the pit’s entrance. Has she fallen? Was the boy bait?
“Haime!” I shout inside it. It’s deep, I realize, ducking in. Deeper than just a pit. It’s a hole—a cave entrance.
“Milaye,” Haime calls back to me, her voice muffled from somewhere deep within. A wave of relief crashes through me. I’ve found her.
“Haime, are you okay!? Are you hurt?”
“The boy ran in here, but I can’t find him—I can’t see.” Her high-pitched cry is far off. “I can’t see. I can’t see!” It grows shrill.
“Stay right there. I’m coming after you!” Setting my spear aside and pulling away from the entrance, I search for a piece of wood to light, but the rain has made its way down to drop in splats upon the underbrush. Rushing to the old naga nest, I find broken branches, concealed under the tree’s large roots. Grabbing the biggest of the branches, I tug out flint and fire moss from my pouch. By rubbing the moss at the end of the branch, I make a crude torch.
Returning to the cave opening, I light the torch and drop to a crouch. “I’m coming,” I call out. “Don’t move!”
Holding the torch before me, I unsheathe my dagger and descend into the cold darkness.
2
Drazak’s Dream
Petrichor invades my mind. The scent of fresh rain in the air, and the feel of that rain upon my wings. It slides over my muscles and between my scales, and with it is the smell of soil. Rich soil, filled with minerals and dampened with water. It calls to me like a flame in the darkness and brings me peace.
I am familiar with this dreamy feeling. It is one I have had countless times. So many times that the memories blend together until my life is one reverie after another. I also know somewhere, not here, it is real and more than a pleasant feeling.
It is raining.
My body does nothing with this knowledge, and I settle into it. I have tried and tried to hold onto more than these feelings—they only serve as a reminder of the passing of time—to no avail. It is the rain that keeps me sane… I think. It is the rain, the soil, and the damp all around me that has given me the knowledge of time. I have gone through this thousands of times, and because of that, I know I have lain here for hundreds of years.
I think.
So, I have settled into this cursed life, and I wait until the day that I finally fall into true darkness from which I will not wake up again.
Venom runs through my veins, poison, paralyzing me. An enormous injection that should have killed me long ago. Except I am an alpha dark dragon, and my body’s strength fights back death, even if I wish for it. Death does not come easy to dragons—especially dark dragons. We are resistant to it. And herein lies the humor…
What makes me powerful and mighty has also cursed me.
My
