Page 6 of Scaled Hearts

“Thank you,” I say, kneeling for her and giving her a kiss on the hand. “Thank you, my goddess.”

I am strange, different and new but I was blessed by the Hearthkeeper herself and it is my duty now to obey, to help my race.

The goddess’ face twists, her body shifts, and suddenly I’m in a different memory.

The war.

I remember this as well.

There is a legion of us, all blessed by the goddess. We breathe our fire out, burning vrakken as we go. I see the way our flames hurt them more than a dark elf’s spell, and I feel validated in my change as they crumple to the ground, their sun glamour ripped away to cause more damage until they are curled up on the ground and reduced to nearly nothing.

We are winning. Soon we will wipe out the threat!

Fire rains from the skies though. They’ve strategized. They have new ways to stop us.

The first dragon dies and we realize we’re not invulnerable. We’re not indestructible. We can be killed.

We retreat, regroup. We come up with new ways to fight back. We realize we need to be smart so we plan sneak attacks. We raid their encampments, sending whole troops up in flames.

The vrakken find a way to take us out in the air, though. I watch my fellow dragons fall, killed midair.

It frightens us, so we decide to escape. We want to live.

We flee, flying fast, trying to get as far as possible. As far from home as we can.

We find some place to land, a tiny island that we name Fouuer Island that we claim as our own. We’re safe here. Hidden from the enemy. Hidden from the rest of the world.

But I feel shame inside, rather than relief. I have let down the Hearthkeeper. I promised to fight, to use my power to help and instead I was a coward. I escaped. I fled from the war.

I failed her. I can no longer return.

And then, as we strategize and gain courage, we ready ourselves to dive into the fray again. Only to find out that even if we wanted to leave, we couldn’t.

The island is sealed with strong magic, hiding us away here. Though fish and shipwrecked pieces wash up under it, even my elven form is too big to slip under the seal. Or maybe it’s enchanted to keep only us in. I should be grateful but instead, I’m disappointed. I want my freedom back. I long for my old life.

After some time of testing my body, the magic, and the others around me, I decide to remain in my dragon form and sleep. Warring over the washed up treasures that slip beneath the magic seal don’t entertain me anymore, and neither do my once welcomed companions.

I won’t wake up until the curse of my existence has been lifted. I will slumber, quietly, until I am free once more.

Things blur and shift once again and I see the volcano before me.

The island was formed by this volcano and only has had a few small scale eruptions in the entire time we’ve lived here.

I tilt my head, watching the volcano in silence. Without warning, the earth shifts and rumbles under my paws. Lava spews into the sky and the volcano belches smoke and fire, the entire island covered in a thick layer of ash. The ground starts to break apart underneath me, my paws struggling to keep my body aloft.

Everything is a hot, hot heat. The island is on fire. It’s so warm that the heat of the eruption burrows under my skin and I jolt.

I’m sent into a panic as I start to come to. My waking isn’t part of a memory. It’s real. What’s happening? Why am I waking up after all these years? The island isn’t erupting, despite the dream. The earth feels still under my paws. What has awakened me?

Something prickles at my skin. I don’t know what’s going on but I sense a shift, a change in the air. It calls out to me, trying to pull me from my dreams.

My thoughts are jumbled. I don’t know what’s happening. I’m not awake yet, stuck in that state between sleep and consciousness. I want to go back, to fade back into my dreams where it’s safe, where nothing but freedom exists for me.

I resent my lost freedom and I don’t want to be awake. Perhaps I can find my way back into sleep once more.

I stretch, yawning as I settle my head between my paws once more, rubbing my chin against the earth to get more comfortable. My tail curls tighter against my belly.

Just as the edges of the world start to fade and blur around me once more, I feel it again. It’s like a sharp tug that beckons me towards the land of the living. It pushes and prods at me, urging me to wake up.

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