Chapter 6
In the Past
I need two things to escape. Two seemingly impossible things.
But with decades in the colony stretching before me, I have nothing else to fill my time than trying to achieve the impossible.
My first taste of hope comes from Hotaru Watanabe, one of the elders in the colony.
She finds me when I am living feral on the outskirts, attacking any who approach.
She, more powerful than any dragon I’ve ever met, presses her thoughts into my mind and shows me there is a way to regain my human form earlier than the normal time span.
“Trust me,” her voice hisses in my skull. “Trust me enough to teach you.”
I can have what I want if only I put in the time. If I train. If I want it bad enough.
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.
At the sight of my mangled throat, the captain’s eyes widen in shock, then narrow.
“So, you can’t speak? Fine. You’ll write your answers. I’ll be back.” Veritas zips his coat and pushes into the frigid day.
Dread scrapes my insides with the clanging shut door.
The moment he disappears, the young man turns back to me with urgency. “You’re running, yes? You need to get away from here?”
Over the past twenty years, I’ve only allowed myself to trust one other. Everything in me rebels against allowing this stranger to know the truth.
“Please, I want to help. But we need to act fast.”
That’s when I see the onyx glow of his eyes. The same color as Hotaru.
“Watanabe.”
Despite the shock in his expression, he doesn’t freeze. “My grandmother.”
If I can put my faith in anyone, let it be one of her line. I nod, staring into his eyes.
“You’ll need to knock me out, then run southeast until you spot a rock formation that resembles a turtle.
Under the largest stone is a cave. Shelter there, and I’ll find you.
We’ll have to smuggle you onto the ship when the scheduled dragons come.
If he finds out the secret my grandmother taught you, he will take you back. Or worse. Do you understand?”
Another nod. Of course, the trials continue.
“We’ll make a plan as we wait for the others to arrive. For now, you need to run. Hit me and go.”
When I hesitate, tired of bloodshed, the young man shoves my chest. “Now!”
I do. His eyes roll back in his head as he falls to the floor. I snatch a coat and run and hide.
For three weeks, I live beneath a rock, venturing out to catch fish in icy waters, sometimes cooking them with the heat of my hands and sometimes devouring them raw. Antarctic sushi.
Yuito, Hotaru’s grandson, comes when he can, bringing supplies that won’t be missed and teaching me the many ways the world has changed in my absence.
“Do you have someplace to go?” he asks one night.
Not in the way he means. There’s no shelter waiting for me in the world. But I have a destination.
I simply nod. After another week of pushing and a blood oath not to share my location, I relent and tell him.
“Folk Haven? I’ve never been, but I’ve heard of it. A town in Georgia. A safe place for mythical creatures looking to coexist.”
I grunt in confirmation. Good to know it hasn’t disappeared. Would have made the job of finding Esme that much harder.
What if she left?
I push the thought away. If she has, I’ll search until I find her.
“I know a dragon who planned to move there. Xavier. Nice guy. Think he’s a firefighter. If you need help, you might want to find him,” Yuito offers.
With a nod of thanks, I store the information away.
Hold on to his name when I hide in the hull of the ship as it sails to the southern point of South America.
Silently chant the name when Yuito presses a wad of cash into my hand and wishes me luck before I blend in with the city crowd.
Whisper his name after Esme’s each night when I fall asleep in a grimy alley or a hidey-hole on another boat, the one that brings me to the States.
During the long, painful journey is the only time I miss my dragon form. The body with powerful wings that could carry me across a great distance, straight to her. But I will never again risk getting stuck in that form, even knowing the secret of early transformation.
After weeks of scraping my way through the modern world, I find myself in Georgia, hitchhiking north.
A trucker lets me off in Toccoa with a granola bar and a gruff, “Good luck.”
I walk the rest of the way, sleeping in the woods when I’m too exhausted to take another step.
At the sight of the Folk Haven town sign, my throat tightens, the longing a more painful ache than any injury I sustained from the pits.
Almost there.