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thirty-eight

Dove

T hrough some trial and error, I find myself on the back of Saff.

“Trust,” she says. A word that holds so much weight.

Surprisingly, I do. As my intimate, I trust the sharp-scaled red dragon with my life, especially since she hasn’t fried me up. That has to count for something. I just don’t trust that I will be able to hold onto the behemoth of a creature.

“Feel my body move,” is her only piece of advice as I’m catapulted into the sky on the back of the inferno that is Saff.

My stomach bottoms out, and my voice catches in my throat.

Wind lashes around my bugged-out eyes, clear water flowing down my cheeks, and my ears bleed with the unholy wrath of the sharp breeze.

Straightening out, Saff brings us to a smooth glide.

Looking behind me, I see a slight grey sand almost to the horizon, where the light of the two suns begin to trace the sands, blending it into a shade of orange. Facing forward, the mountains reign supreme, all pushed together and stretching as wide as the eye can see.

Terra.

The air smells different as wind gusts catch me from drastically changing landscapes, syrupy undertones shifting to crisp salty seas and fresh hued leaves.

As we continue our glide, I release my fingers from their punishing grip around the reins strapped to Saff and move to rest them against roughened crimson scales. Warmth seeps through my fingertips at the slight touch against her body.

A grin forms on my face, and an overwhelming sense of release to the dragon beneath me overtakes my limbs.

“Free,” Saff rumbles into my mind.

A bubble of laughter works its way up my throat. “Yes, Saff, I feel free.”

Continuing to push my fingertips into the scales below, Saff begins to purr her contentment. Unexpectedly, my body begins to vibrate faintly in the saddle as her purrs pulsate through her whole frame.

How have I gone a lifetime without feeling this? This utter expanse of possibility, of hope. Even as a child, I never felt such wonder, such excitement for the world stretched before me.

Am I scared of heights? I guess this proves I am anything but.

With Saff beneath me, I feel unstoppable, an enchantment far stronger than the Goddess ever gifted me.

She may have chosen me, but I am not hers and she is not mine. The only person I belong to is myself, and I have full autonomy over the choices I make in this life. I can see that now.

I’m done hiding—hiding behind the walls of a temple, behind the rules of a crumbling kingdom, behind a bond that was never granted permission.

Tears come, thick and fast, snot ungracefully forming bubbles within my nose. I’ve never cried so much in my life. I find myself shedding layers each time I release these sentiments coming to form. It all came to a head that night I was certain the song would work, and it didn’t. The night my foolish heart thought the dream of Castor was more than a dream until it shattered at my feet. Until that point, I was coping. I was masking. Everything was fine. I was okay.

Looking back now, it’s easy to see how okay I wasn’t. How much I needed this freedom to move past the things I could not change. To see I’m more than just a servant of the priestesses. More than just the mute girl. More than just the girl who has a scar on her chest.

I am more than I ever thought possible.

This life can mean so much more than I’ve thought possible.

On the back of my intimate—Saff, a dragon of old fae lore—I’m given the possibility to dream again in the face of uncertainty.

“You water, Little Human.”

The sound of Saff’s voice is a balm, a strength I finally understand. With unwavering connection comes confidence in yourself—a truth.

Argus bucks inside my chest, eager to be set free to soar with his new friend. Patting my breast, I whisper to the little protector inside, “I know.”

Saff has given me a gift. The best gift, and the only one I have received since before…

“Hold,” she barks in my head, and I instinctively grip the reins before me.

We suddenly bank.

Gripping my thighs tighter around the saddle, I suck in air like a baby bird experiencing life for the first rhythm.

As we straighten out, I exhale my calm. Practise. This will take a lot of practise .

“Down, look.” This time, as I survey the sky at Saff’s behest, I find a thicket of trees to one side of us and the sands to the other.

Down—down below is frightening. A crack within the lands so wide, deep and long that there’s no end to the vista swallowing the ground whole.

Gulping, I shout to the wind, “What is that?”

“The void, Little Human. The sea flows and Oriel’s people play.”

“Oriel?” The word is not one I have heard before. Not even in the fae texts.

“We climb,” Saff continues her straightforward instructions.

Her voice is a quick shot through my head, and I tighten my grip as we do just that, arrowing into the sky.

Closing my eyes to the suns until we level out again, I find us tunnelling through the mountains I’d seen from a distance before.

“Rest .” The idea is not accompanied by its usual strength, but a slow, breathy exhale from my dragon intimate.

Concern for the creature underneath me fills me with dread.

We land near the mountains, close to the sea, Saff finding a smooth, flat rock only accessible by air.

As soon as she’s on her feet, she crumbles. Quickly sliding down her back, I make my way to her slowly blinking, glowing eyes and place my hands on her scales, offering some form of ease.

“What’s happening?” I ask in haste.

“Too much flying,” she gruffs breathily.

“What?” The statement confuses me. Aren’t Dragons made to fly? I question my own knowledge about dragons from the texts I’ve read.

“My fire. It builds for my egg. Drains my body. Need release,” she continues, her words coming slowly.

“What can I do? It’s safe to release some of your fire here.” I point to the seascape before us, and she puffs smoke.

Even the thought of seeing that much fire terrifies me, but Saff won’t use it on me.

“No. Need fire for egg. So tired,” she says as she lays still on the ground.

“Oh, Saff.” My hands rub along her nose, and she closes her eyes. Through her release of memories, I remember her mate and the egg they created—a mate she loved with her whole heart, a mate she still mourns, an egg she is dying to find.

Her only mission is to find her egg and keep her fire safe for the baby dragon within, but that simple act seems to be putting a strain on her body.

Thinking of mates, the picture of a radiant fae prince enters my vision, and our tether strums a melodic, melancholy tune. With distance, it has grown quieter, letting me fight its constant pull towards my fae male.

I cannot imagine life without the bond—without Rivern—but I do not know if it is just of the Goddess’s making, or something my heart truly desires.

The pain I felt before finding Saff was excruciating—not the slow slipping into the abyss I am used to, but a snap of a tether running loose, faith misplaced, love lost. A feeling worse than death, I imagine.

Remembering, my whole body wants to cave in on itself.

Doubt is becoming a friend I am not sure I enjoy the company of, but it is a necessary companion, no less. Especially in this new life.

I want more clarity around my feelings for Rivern without the bond dictating them. With a shattered heart, the task does not prove fruitful.

Giving Saff time to rest, I find myself gravitating towards the endless sea rising from the cliff face we have landed on. Swiping at the hair tickling my face, I stare at the wide expanse before me. I can go anywhere or stay here, in these lands. The choice is now mine.

I have a friend now. Yes, she is a dragon, but companionship is companionship.

Maybe, once we collect her young and save my people, we can leave this place.

Argus stretches his long neck, bobbing it as if in agreement. I scoff. “Of course, the dragon likes the idea of spreading its wings. Don’t you have memories to be battling?” And at that, Argus huffs and plonks himself in front of my chest’s cave of secrets.

“Doesn’t sound like your worst idea,” the small voice graces my consciousness.

I hiccup, followed by a surprised laugh. “Wren?”

“Of course it’s me, you big dummy,” Wren scolds me . “I like it up here,” she continues to muse.

Hugging my arms around my chest, I give the tiny, childlike voice all my attention.

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” With the suns now beginning their reach overhead, I feel heat start to prickle my skin. The choppy waves below crash in the likes of a choreographed dance as I take in deep breaths of briny goodness.

Wren sighs. “ Don’t give up.”

“What?” The statement catches me off guard. “I’m not giving up.”

“And you cannot leave these lands, not yet. You are needed here. You are important to people,” she emphasises the last part.

“Yeah, right. I’ve been forced upon a fae prince who surely has been taught to hate humans. Sentenced to death by a tyrant king who I have no idea how to kill. And…”

“Yes.”

“I killed her. I’m just like him.”

The wind picks up as hatred courses through me. Not just hatred for the man who raised me, but a little for myself. I face-palm my hands, scrubbing at more sore eyes.

“You protected yourself. You are nothing like him. And that bond lives in you because it is fate, because it will bring life and joy and peace,” she continues.

“I only see destruction and feel heartache,” I whine at her encouragement.

“You know, you’re insufferable sometimes,” she grumbles .

Snorting out loud, I push down on my forehead. “You are giving me a headache.”

“Well, you’ve been giving me a headache for the past twenty-five rotations.”

She’s right. I have not been easy to live with. I’ve barely lived the last fourteen rotations, just barely surviving.

“Open yourself to the help of others, Dove. Let the fae prince in. Let him heal what is broken. And don’t discount the wolf,” she cryptically continues.

I scrunch my face. “What, you have the sight now?”

She giggles. “ Just call me your wisdom wielder.”

“Great, thanks.” The bit about the wolf is intriguing. “Do you mean Gideon?”

“My beast,” she teases.

“So mature.”

“The dragon wakes.”

“What?” I turn to face Saff, whose eyes have opened and are staring intently at me.

Silence rings, and I turn back towards the exposed plunge. “Wren?”

Nothing.

“Wren, please, don’t go,” I plead with the sky.

“WREN?” I scream for answers. For my sister back. My true other half.

All the feelings I’ve been pushing down come spewing to the surface, and I continue screaming her name to the suns again and again and again, beating my chest cavity until I’m nothing but a crumpled mess on the ground with red eyes watching over me.