Chapter 38 Zephyros
Zephyros
Zephyros cuts through the sky like a silver blade, each powerful wing beat carrying him farther from Rhealyn. The connection to his rider—the bond that has anchored him for years—fades to whispers as something older and more primal takes hold.
The pull comes in waves, pulsing through his bones with the rhythm of forgotten heartbeats. It floods his senses with a tender song he's always known but had forgotten.
—Little one, I'm trying to hold on, he tries to call back to Rhealyn, but the words are weak.
His obsidian claws flex and curl against nothing as he surrenders to the summons. The jagged scars across his battle-worn body throb with echoes of a promise long forgotten.
Five thousand years of life, and yet he feels like a hatchling drawn to first flight. Something waits beyond the shimmering horizon, something that knows his true name, his blood, his purpose.
As Zephyros exits the barren landscape of the Blighted Arcs, he spots a magnificent figure perched atop the highest bordering peak.
His eyes widen with disbelief. A female dragon.
But not Heratrix. She is larger, more beautiful still.
Her ivory crown of spines gleams in the light, and her lightning-colored eyes seem to look through him.
He blinks repeatedly, convinced his old mind must be deceiving him.
Impossible! The world narrows to just her, this apparition that cannot exist.
Her scales shimmer. Each movement ripples with power barely contained. The air around her crackles with elemental energy.
Confusion and wonder battle within Zephyros.
After centuries of believing Heratrix was the only female dragon, this discovery is a shattering blow.
He increases his speed, powerful wings cutting through the air with renewed vigor.
Whether this is illusion, dream, or reality, he finds himself drawn forward by desire stronger than reason.
The dragoness's wild scent reaches him, electrifying him. His eyes lock with hers, and recognition floods him, sending his scales into a violent shiver.
—I know you. How do I know you?!
She remains motionless, regal upon her perch, waiting. Memories stir within him, fragments of a time before wars. Before riders.
—Come to me, old friend, she calls, her voice resonating through his skull.
His connection to Rhealyn fades further with each wing beat toward this impossible creature. Part of him fights to remember his rider, but the dragoness's pull proves too much.
He descends toward the peak, claws extended for landing.
The rocky surface crumbles beneath his weight as he settles beside her, sending small avalanches of stone clattering down the mountainside.
He positions himself carefully, maintaining a respectful distance while drinking in her presence.
The barren landscape of eroded arcs stretches out below them, forgotten as they regard one another.
—Yes, you know me, she states simply, her voice like the rumble of distant thunder. As I know you, Zephyros.
Her scales shift between colors impossible to name. They're deeper than midnight, brighter than flame, more complex than the northern lights.
All Zephyros can do is nod once.
—Let me show you what was stole from us, she beckons.
Their minds connect with staggering intensity.
The sensation is overwhelming, not the simple telepathic communication he shares with Rhealyn or his kin's minds, but a complete immersion.
His mental barriers shatter as his consciousness intertwines with hers.
He feels vulnerable and exposed, his entire being laid bare before her powerful gaze.
The connection forms a bridge between them that transcends being, becoming something so profound it resonates through space and time.
Memories cascade through him—not fragmented glimpses but complete visions of a past that was stolen from him. Dragons—females—soaring through the sky alongside males. He sees himself younger, flying alongside this very dragoness, their wings brushing in aerial dance.
More memories flood him in a violent torrent.
Suddenly Fragor's actions make sense in the context of all that has happened.
The treachery is more vast than Zephyros suspected—not just the manipulation of their minds, but a conspiracy stretching across centuries, all done along the… Woken Wyrm, that damn liar.
Zephyros roars, the sound echoing across the peak, a release of all his unknowing suffering. The wind around them responds to his elemental nature, whipping into a tempest that matches his turmoil.
—They took everything from us, the dragoness confirms, her own anger a controlled inferno beside his storm. Our freedom. Your memories. Our young.
He trembles, nearly broken by the weight of recovered truth.
His massive form shudders as he processes everything revealed to him.
For a long moment, his consciousness teeters on the edge of fracturing under the strain.
But through their connected minds, the female stabilizes him, her timeless wisdom providing balance and comfort.
Her presence becomes an anchor as he navigates the storm of restored memory, pulling him back from the brink of devastation.
The pain subsides, the tyrant wave receding, leaving him trembling on shores of newfound clarity.
Each breath comes easier than the last as recognition settles inside him.
The stolen memories knit themselves back into the fabric of his being—not as fresh wounds but as treasures returned after so much absence.
The magnificent dragoness inclines her head, gaze soft. —You see who I am now, my heart.
His silver hide shimmers brighter as understanding blooms fully within him. Not just any female dragon, but his mate, violently torn from his memory by an elaborate deception. The empty spaces within him that have ached for centuries suddenly fill with rightness and completion.
—She made me forget you, he whispers, voice hollow with horror and wonder. How could I forget you?
They lean into each other, foreheads touching, horns rubbing together.
Their minds remain intertwined, her consciousness cradling his like precious crystal as he heals fully.
Where once was absence now flows a bright connection.
The bond resonates between them, vibrating with power that builds until the very air around them begins to glow.
Light erupts from their joined forms, a beacon of blinding intensity that transforms night to day across the barren landscape. The radiance pours from their scales, their eyes, their very souls as something integral rights itself after centuries of wrong.
In this light, Zephyros sees the path forward, a future reclaimed from lies.