And, gods, I do.
I’m not sure why she chooses to share her knowledge with me. Why I’m worth this secret other dragons would kill for. Whenever I ask, she simply says that the world needs less violence and more love.
Hotaru shows me the magical meditation practice passed down her family line. Guides me through all the subtleties. Drills into me the thought patterns I need to follow to overcome the power of my dragon soul.
I practice every day.
In a decade, I finally master the skill. When I sit still, listening to the power and magic flow through my veins, I can feel my two-legged shape locked within me, waiting to come out.
My heart begs for me to change now and run back to my mate. But I am not only trapped in my beast. I am also trapped in these magical walls.
The second impossible task is to rise so high in the hierarchy of the colony that I receive the gate spell to breach the boundaries. Only a few are allowed access for the safety of the group.
So, I return to the pit, and I fight. The easiest way to rise in the ranks is to dominate in the pit. I never kill another dragon, not after that first one. But I gain a reputation I doubt Hotaru—with her preference for love over violence—is proud of. But she must understand because she does not shun or betray me.
Every morning, even in the winter when the sun never rises, we meet on the same high peak to meditate. Our thick, scaly hides and internal forges keep us warm in the frigid temperatures. Icy wind plucks at the wings on my back, and I find, knowing I can leave this form now, I don’t hate the shape so much. I even discover a small amount of contentment when I take wing.
But never enough to justify remaining.
“Why do you stay?” I ask her the morning after a particularly savage battle. My leg still aches from the break that healed overnight. At least I came out on top, although bloody when I got there.
For a long time, she doesn’t answer. I don’t begrudge her the silence after she’s given me so much.
“My mate was human,”her voice whispers softly against my mind.“They are gone now. And I worry, when I go, we will not meet. That I will simply fade.”In her two-legged form, she would age like a human, as we all would, moving closer to death. Our dragon form stretches our life span.“So, I will live a little longer. And their memory with me.”
While I appreciate the honesty, her sadness spurns a wildness in me. A desperation.
Time is running out for Esme.
The world is full of dangers; what if she’s already met her end?
The next day, in the pits, I leave rivers of blood in the snow.
Finally, after years of battling and falsely proclaiming myself as a lover of the dragon way of life, I’m ruled as the best warrior and therefore master of colony protection. The elders, Hotaru among them, feed my blood into the boundary, giving me the key to leave.
Twenty years of dedication, deception, and destruction.
In the dark of the night, I flee. After breaching the barrier, I fly only a short way before testing Hotaru’s gift to me.
At the sight of my naked human body, I weep in relief, the tears freezing on my cheeks. Terrified I’ll never be able to make the change again, I hike miles in the deadly cold, hoping my inner forge doesn’t run out before I make it to the camp. Somehow, I manage the trek, but my problems aren’t over.
“Breath of The Winged One, you’re in rough shape.” The captain of the ship off this icy hell dimension stares down at me, his pale forehead wrinkling as he furrows his gray brow.
“Come on, Veritas. You’re acting like you’ve never seen a return before.” A man with hooded eyes approaches me cautiously. “A fighter? In the pits?” he asks.
The scars littering my body tell my tale. Seems he knows of the brutality that exists in the colony if you want to earn an honored space. Or if you’re a teenager who stepped out of line.
Despite living in the same area as my parents, I haven’t spoken to them in years.
I give a jerky nod.
“I’ve seen a return before, but he’s not on the schedule. The records list three females in the next month. No males.”
Records. Of course they keep documents of arrivals and departures—one of the many safeguards for the colony. I should have known it wouldn’t be as easy as showing up and requesting a ride home.
“What’s your name? The name of your family?” The captain scowls down at me, distrust clear in his eyes.
This, at least, I can give an excuse for not answering. Raising my chin, I display the sloppily healed wound on my neck. The one that would have been fatal if I’d stayed in my mortal form. The one my magic barely managed to knit back together.
