Chapter Ten #3
I half listen as Atlanta tells Ninon about my potential to bond with the Sar Dyēus, though she, like Ozias, calls him by his true name.
I sense more than see Ninon try to catch my eye as Atlanta tells her more about my strength, and the elahi that they suspect I have.
Dusk is settling swiftly, and people move more quickly, finishing up the washing, turning to their dwellings or the Alcazar, others heading to the open field where we watched the children shift.
While I don’t mind Atlanta telling Ninon about what they hope I can accomplish, I still haven’t had much time to think on it myself.
It’s almost easier to pretend that this is something temporary; not my reality.
Akin to how I felt whenever I visited Dyēus.
If I fail in the task Ozias has asked of me, or worse, if I can’t even begin it, my hands are proverbially tied to the fate of living here as this creature, contained and restricted, and Ninon may not live to experience much of this new life at all. The very idea tightens my chest.
“So it’s true not everyone will shift at nightfall?” I ask once she’s finished explaining to Ninon, attempting to distract my mind from the tension in my body.
Atlanta shakes her head. “Some will. The fact remains we don’t have a lot of space for us all to transform comfortably at once.
We often take turns shifting and spreading our wings.
But Ozias and I, and others who’ve been able to master shifting at will during the daylight hours typically leave the night for those who cannot. ”
“What stops so many from being able to shift at will during the day?” Ninon asks. Her twilight blue eyes meet my darker ones. I wonder if Ninon suspects the same answer I do.
“Those who have an elahi eventually learn to shift at will. Something about having a unique ability beyond our usual draconem powers makes it easier to shore up the energy it requires. And for others, like myself, it’s through sheer willpower and hard work.
It took me a long time to master it, but…
it was something I knew I had to do. For myself. ”
“You must feel incredibly proud to have accomplished it,” I remark, impressed.
She hums a little in agreement, smiling to herself. “It’s been worth the effort.”
When we arrive back at the enclosures, sharp panic needles my skin at the idea of being confined again.
“I’ll go first,” I offer. Seeing Ninon restrained would ruin my resolve and I don’t want another embarrassing display of my discomfort like this morning. I try not to think of it. From my transformation last night, I know this is completely necessary.
We stop before the enclosure I woke up in this morning, empty and waiting.
I go inside, and lie down willingly, noting the marks gouged into the ground beneath me.
Sweat breaks out along my skin as Atlanta secures the chains across my body, so heavy, yet with ample give.
Enough space that when I transform I’ll be confined, but not fully restricted.
It’s as humane an enclosure for a dangerous beast could be, I suppose.
The sky is purple with the impending night by the time she has me fully secured. My panting breath flares my ribcage, pressing against my confinement.
“I’ll be back for you at first light,” Atlanta says.
Ninon kneels at my side. “Remember to breathe. Envision the shifts you saw today. It makes the transition easier.”
“Yeah?” I ask, the word strained. I can already feel a crawling sensation under my skin.
“Yes.” She grips my hand through the net, solid and warm and real.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” Then they go, leaving me alone.
I hear the scrape of chains in the enclosure next to mine.
The sound of locks clicking into place. Lying there, unable to move easily, I remember the pain of the transformation last night, the wrongness of my mind disappearing from me.
I don’t have a chance to do as Ninon advised.
Night falls and I hear the high-pitched scream of a dragon.
My skin feels hot and itchy and I squirm and breathe hard, fighting against what’s coming.
A roar shakes the walls, so close it rumbles through my core.
Ninon—that was Ninon. I know it with every fiber of my being.
Then, my own body betrays me. Twisting and breaking and cracking, the beast bursts its way out of my skin, my mind slipping, slipping, until it’s nothing but fear and terror.
I know only snippets of images—hands digging into the ground, shifting from talons back into hands, over and over, the long column of a pale throat, head tossed back.
Clouds by day and stars by night, and endless rows of scales and teeth and claws.
I have a deep, pressing need to exert this power, this strength, but no way to do it, no real goal.
Only anger. Only sheer, undiluted outrage.
So much power, taken from me. This thing that is somehow impossibly me, taken and reclaimed, but not what it should be. Not at all.
Then, oblivion.
The next morning follows the pattern of my first, except instead of taking me to Ozias when Atlanta releases us, we’re led to some rooms in the Alcazar to rest. By afternoon when we wake, we watch the children shift, trying to figure out how to do something we should have naturally done in our own youths.
A precious, glorious time of our lives, stolen from us.
I learn nothing new about the Realm or Dyēus.
I eat with everyone, but only speak to Ninon, and on occasion, Atlanta.
I do not see Ozias. I wonder what he’s doing, where he is, if he’s in the Realm or out beyond it.
That night, the transformation takes hold again. I turn bloodthirsty. Savage. Desperate. And the next night it happens again.
And again.
And again.