Heartless

Soon she would have to rest. But if she rested, she might have to think, and that would be unbearable.

On the horizon, great stones that might once have been pillars but were now blasted beyond recognition stretched ragged hands toward the sky. The dragon flew toward them. Soon they loomed over her, towers of rock, and with her last burst of strength she propelled herself in among them, taking shelter in their shadows. Her wings crumpled, and she collapsed on hard stone.

–––––––

She woke in sunlight. A small ray gleamed through a crevice in the rubble above and shone down upon her face. She groaned and tried to turn away, for the light hurt her eyes. Sand and stone scraped painfully against her cheek. Surprised, she reached up and touched her face and found that it was smooth and scaleless once more.

But then the dragon girl looked at her hands. Both were covered in scales, and talons tore into the rock on which she sat. She stared at them, numb, unsure what she felt. The sun shone full upon her now, causing her skin to glow white, almost translucent. Yet her hands seemed to absorb the light.

She stood and felt dizzied by the lightness of her human body. Her clothes were more tattered than ever, exposing her legs and her dragon arms. Her sleeves, which had disguised most of her scaly arm in Southlands, were in shreds.

Looking around, she found herself in an alley of stone vaulting high above her to a narrow opening through which only small patches of sunlight could creep here and there. A twisted path stretched before and behind her. Steadying herself with her right hand on the wall, she followed the path forward. More patches of light gleamed down at intervals, but she avoided them, sliding instead through the shadows. She had no idea where she went or why, and neither did she care.

The realm of dragons.

A shape moved in front of her. She gasped, surprised but not afraid. She felt she could not be afraid anymore.

It moved again, and she stood silently and waited.

“Who are you?” a young man’s voice spoke, disembodied in the dark. A crack of light fell between them, hiding both in deep shadow.

“No one,” she answered and leaned against the wall.

“Are you a sister?”

“I don’t know.” She pressed herself into the rock, for suddenly, though she wasn’t afraid, her knees went weak. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Perhaps,” the voice said. “You sound small. Are you?”

“I’m not big,” she replied. “Not now.”

“I think you are a sister,” the voice said. “Step into the light so I may be sure.”

The dragon girl could think of no reason not to obey. She pushed herself from the wall and, shielding her eyes with one clawed hand, slid forward into the light. It warmed her clammy skin not unpleasantly.

“Ah,” the voice in the shadow rasped. “Sister.”

A hand, thin and spindly, took hold of one of hers and pulled her forward, out of the sun. She did not resist, though she half expected to have her throat slit any moment. When nothing of the sort happened, she opened her eyes and found herself looking into a pair of slitted pupils on a long, pale face. Her vision adjusted slowly in the dark, and she thought perhaps the face was young, but shadows sagged under the yellow eyes and in the hollow cheeks.

“Have you a name?” the yellow-eyed stranger asked.

“No,” she answered.

“Neither have I,” he said. “Come with me. I’ll show you home.”

She followed, led by the hand. They made slow progress, for he seemed to understand her weariness and adjusted his stride to hers. Like her, he avoided the sunlight where he could. But sometimes there was no choice but to pass through a beam, and she then glimpsed a pale young man not much older than herself, all angles and edges, with a greenish cast to his skin.

“Where are we going?” she asked at length.

“To the Village,” he said.

“How long have you lived there?”

“I forget. Long and not long.” He was silent a moment, and their feet gritted in the sand.

“No one understood me before, you see,” he said. “Tried to control me. But I showed them.”

She did not answer.

“Here they understand,” he said. “No chains, no obligations. That’s what I like.”

She remained silent.

He squeezed her hand almost encouragingly. “And you?” he asked.

“Forgotten,” she said.

“They always forget us at first,” he said. “But they won’t later. He will show us how to make them remember.”

Again she did not answer. But strangely, part of her understood what he said.

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