10. Clara
10
CLARA
H e was just as she envisioned it. Gavril, so strong and powerful, looked frail in his bed. The sclera of his eyes almost blended with his crimson irises, and the veins throughout his scaled body were a dark violet. Small veins ran along his mustached and beaded lips, nearly black.
Prince Drakonis, sat on his bedside hunched with stiffened shoulders. His hair looked windswept as if he had run his fingers through it many times. His ice-blue eyes cut to her as she entered.
“My lady,” Gavril rasped. He tried to sit up, and she raised her hand, shaking her head.
“Please do not get up on my behalf,” she blurted. “Lord Alastair told me you wished to see me.”
“I did. Drakonis, you will leave us.”
“Gavril!” Drakonis whipped his head around. Clara peeked the scales along his wrist and dorsal side of his clawed hand glowing a deep purple.
She tried to keep her emotions schooled on her face. She had seen how distraught he and the Empress would be. It was as if she was reliving the times with her father again. They, at least, got closure. They knew what was coming.
“There are things you must do, and I wish to speak to Lady Clara alone.” Gavril was firm and left no room for argument. “We both know that Lady Clara had no part in this.” She heard him whisper. “And I need you to do what you swore to do. For your kingdom.”
Clara remained rooted to her spot. Did Gavril tell Drakonis of her vision? Should she have told Drakonis? She had assumed that he would tell Drakonis just as she was sure Drakonis told him about every interaction they had. If she had the ability to do so she would have done what she could do to save him. It was why she gave such a vague warning.
Now Gavril laid here as if he was halfway to the Underworld. Frankincense and plum blossoms burned in the simple room. The same as her sister’s when the gargoyle king was trying to help her with physical strength. Every day she thanked the gods she only started the death rituals with her sister but never had to complete them. Could she get the same miracle with Gavril?
Drakonis walked past her and crossed the threshold. Her heart went out to him. It was hard to give in to a loved one’s wishes, especially when you wanted to spend every moment with them. But at least he could say goodbye. One day, he would be grateful for that.
“I apologize for his manners,” Gavril’s voice cracked. She glided along the marble floor, her slippers making barely a sound. She sat in the ornate tufted chair.
“There is no need. I know the pain he bears.” And the pain he will bear . She finished in her thoughts. “I wish I had saw more to stop this.”
“II regret it is so soon, but it is what the Fates decree. Kazimir has wanted me out of the way for a long time. There is nothing more you could have done.”
“My sister is a healer. I can request that she give me an antidote. It may prolong your life.” Clara offered.
“I will live what remains of life.” Despite his state, he smiled. “Even if I were to survive this, I will not be the same.”
“You could be stronger. Or at least be alive enough to escape someplace safe.”
“I thank you for the offer my lady, but I am tired. And it is through my death that Drakonis can see to his destiny.”
“He needs you,” Clara said. She could see it in his face. There was familiar grief in his eyes that she knew all too well. “Do you truly wish to abandon him?”
“I have taught that boy many things.” Gavril’s pupils grew larger and vibrated. Sweat beaded at his pale temples. Clara took a rag from the basin, twisting water out, and patting them away. “He was always a strong and witty lad. He grasped military concepts that few general could. That boy read every scroll in all libraries and remembered every minute detail. His physical strength is unmatched by any dragon. When he had just learned to walk, he learned how to wield a sword on his own accord.” Gavril closed his eyes, reminiscing in his memories. Clara smiled. She couldn't believe this man wasn’t Drakonis’s father with how proudly he spoke. “I respect Emperor Konstantin in every way, but I am disappointed in the way he played those boys against each other.”
Clara tilted her head, moving the damp rag over his gray-streaked beard. It was the first time she got free information outside of scrolls, but she did not probe or interrupt. The words of a dying man were sacred.
“I know you are aware of his inner dragon. Drakonis told me,” Gavril said.
“Yes, I did not realize it was a secret. The prince looked quite shaken.” Clara said. She re-dipped the rag and continued to dab his face.
“How did you figure it out?” Gavril asked.
She remembered being in the hallway with Valen, and the serpent that left Drakonis’s body whenever she touched him. Something about him had been so familiar, though she was sure she had never seen such a creature.
“I knew from the moment he touched me,” she said.
“Dragons used to be stronger in our earlier years, but over the generations, we have grown weak. Drakonis is the first one of our kind to have an inner dragon that can speak and guide him. The only ones that know are me and Empress Yelena.”
“Why keep it a secret? Should it not be celebrated?” Clara asked.
“You are not the first to bring up the Heir. Five hundred years ago a prophecy was made that there would be a dragon that would bring our people back to their glory days. He would be one chosen by the Drakaina.”
“The Drakaina?” Clara questioned.
“Yes. They are ancient dragons that guide our kind to our fate postmortem.”
There was little she found in the library, and nothing about the Drakaina. Her heart warmed at the trust from this honorable man.
“I’m assure you, my lord, you will end up in your paradise in Elysium. Your deeds on behalf of your kind are too grand.” It was the most direct and truthful thing she had said in Ouroboros.
“Our people became slaves to Hades, my lady. Surely Hades would send me, and the others, to the Tartarus, if not throw us in one of the five rivers.”
Clara’s blood ran cold. Tartarus was a literal hell in the deepest part of the underworld where torture and suffering was endless. Only the most bloodthirsty and immoral went there. As far as the rivers went, a soul never rested once cast there.
“Hades cannot be so unfair. The others that lived moral lives will go to the Asphodel Meadows and heroes like yourself will be in Elysium. What happened between Phaedrus and Hades happened so long ago.”
“The gods never let go of a grudge,” Gavril muttered. “But the Heir you speak of may be dragon kind’s only hope.” His large hand grabbed both of hers. The damp rag fell on the silken sheets next to his robed shoulders. “I can feel it in my soul. Something is about to happen. Something that will alter our destiny’s forever.”
“Tell me.”
Determination and fear shine through his tired eyes.
“It happened when the princes were both children. The emperor knew of the Oracle’s prophecy and believed it was one of his sons that would lead dragons to a better life, where they would be the superior race as before. Not even the gargoyle king could compete with our strength. So, Emperor Konstantin set up a test.
“If you leave Ouroboros, you will go through a forest of dracora blossoms and find yourself where the earth screams in pain. Willows bow down from the sky and moss covers all that used to be. There is where our first civilization was.”
Gavril’s hand shook, his grip weakening. Clara broke contact, laying one of her small ones in his along the mattress.
“Drakonis and Kazimir used to be as close as brothers could be. They both had their strengths and weaknesses, but it was clear who was truly born to be king.”
Drakonis. Clara finished in her mind.
“Choosing one son to be king doesn’t mean death for the other. Both boys knew that at one point. Instead of choosing one himself, Konstantin took the boys to the ruins, believing the gods would choose for him.”
Darkness overcame his face, eye dimming. Gavril looked up at the ceiling lost in memory.
“Kazimir was the one to return. He looked as if he were followed by demons. Something had changed within him.”
“What happened to Drakonis?”
“He did not return for four days,” Gavril’s voice cracked. He covered his eyes with his fingers. Clara caressed his other hand, feeling his skin become colder. “Then he just appeared. The boy was bruised everywhere, and his arm broken. I don’t see how he survived.”
“You must have been relieved.”
“Conflicted,” he corrected. “I was overjoyed that he had returned to us alive, but something had changed in him too. He isolated himself and angry if Kazimir’s name was mentioned. He would go days without speaking, and eventually he only did to Yelena and I.”
Clara did not miss the informal way he said the empress’s name.
“Ever since then, Konstantin believes the gods chose Kazimir to be his successor, but Kazimir’s actions and his strong convictions say different. Each the emperor pits his sons against each other, Drakonis is the victor. When Drakonis returned from the Great War a hero it only perplexed Emperor Konstantin more.”
“Do you think Drakonis is the chosen hero in your prophecy?” Clara questioned. She believed him to be more than qualified to be the next emperor, but not the Heir. There were no qualifications to be Heir according to her vision. She combed through every dream and vision she had until she arrived in Ouroboros. The heir had horns, hair as white as snow, and porcelain skin with ice blue scales. But no face. No defining characteristics.
“I was convinced he was a hero when he revealed to his mother and I that he had another dragon inside of him. I do not know what happened between those two at the ruins, but I’m convinced that he should have returned and not Kazimir. The Drakaina, our ancestors, chose Drakonis. I’m sure of it.”
“My lord, I do not question your judgement. Even my brother-in-law sings of Prince Drakonis’s accomplishments. But does that mean he is the heir?”
“You believe it to be Kazimir?” Gavril questioned.
“I believe it to be a living dragon in Ouroboros. The gods have pushed me here, and I am remaining unbiased as I do my search.”
Gavril smiled and cupped her cheek with his large hand. It encompassed almost the entirety of her profile. His palm was rough, fingers callused. His kindness and reverenced manner reminded her of Romanus when they first started living in Oceanus.
“Please help Drakonis after I depart.”
Clara smiled. “I will try but I don’t seem to be in his graces at the moment.”
“He is frightened,” Gavril said. “There is something about you that shakes him. He cannot hide from you like he does the others. Please guide each other. I believe you both can help each other.” Clara raised her brow. She did not know what he meant but did not contest. “I have a last wish.”
“Do you wish me to fetch the one doing your funeral?”
“No,” Gavril said quickly. “I want my final rites done by you. Only you can do what I ask.”
Clara had no issue but there would be others that did.
“The royal family may not like this.”
“They will understand in time.” Gavril nudged his head towards a dresser. “Open the draw and look beneath the shelf. There is something there you must have.”
The room was so quiet that her soft footsteps sounded ungraceful. Clara did as he asked, pulling the dresser drawer opened. She muttered an “excuse me” as she carefully placed his garments anywhere there was space, careful not to bump the incense pots. To her naked eye, it looked like a normal drawer. She ran her thin fingers around the flat wood then up along the walls. It was there but could be easily missed. A tiny bump. She placed pressure on it and a square flap opened. With a delicate touch, she pulled a scroll from the compartment. It was folded neatly and rolled tightly, bound with a piece of rope.
Gavril beckoned her back over, but she replaced his clothes before returning.
“Open this where only you will see it. I have translated it for you.”
“My lord, what…”
“Drakonis was not the only one affected by what happened in the ruins.” He grasped her hand around the small scroll. “More dragons have died in the last hundred years for useless quarrels. Soldiers have died meaningless deaths, all in the name of a pure blood line or imperialism. My last request, Lady Clara, is that you release them.”
“If they have died, how…”
“Dragons have more than physical bodies. Once those die, we remain attached to this plane. We all have an inner spirit, like Drakonis, but they do not live like his does. You must release them and purge Ouroboros of those trapped and suffering. You are the only one I can trust with this.”
Desperation etched into every wrinkle and muscle of his exhausted body. She clutched his hand, lifted it, and kissed his bare knuckles.
“You are certain you want this? You do not desire a potion that could heal you?”
“When you look at the scroll, you will understand. My death is necessary, and I will go to the Underworld proudly.”
Tears glazed over her eyes, but she understood. If his death would help her find the Heir, then she must accept it. For finding the Heir would save her family.
“I do not believe that Hades will trap you in the Tartarus,” she stated. “Even the god of the Underworld should be able to see how honorable you are.” Gavril’s cracked lips pulled into a smile. “I will release them,” Clara continued. “And all of those that have died noble deaths will join you in Elysium.”
“You will watch over Drakonis?”
It warmed her heart to see this man care so much. He reminded her so much of her own father.
“I will do what I can. I have quite the experience with stubborn men.” Clara tucked the scroll in her bosom, leaned over, and kissed Gavril’s head. “May you rest peacefully until your eternal sleep my lord.”