Chapter 149: Quest Request

Evening had fallen some time ago. Sakolomé walked slowly through the familiar streets, his mind still full of Velda's revelations. He felt as if everything was accelerating. That he was touching something greater, something more fragile too. But this time, he would not be alone. He was going to ask those he loved to accompany him. He needed them.

Arriving in front of his house, he gently opened the door. A warm light bathed the interior. The scent of incense floated in the peaceful air.

— I'm home! he called out.

From afar, he heard a muffled "hmm?"

In the kitchen, Salomé, his sister, was cutting fruit with almost military precision. Wearing sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, she seemed focused on her task. In the adjoining room, Bakuran, slouched on the couch, was tapping on a game console with a concentration that contrasted with his careless look.

— Yo, big brother, you alive? Bakuran asked without looking up.

— I need you two. Right now. It's important, said Sakolomé in a calm but determined tone.

They knew that tone. It was the one he took when he wasn't joking.

A few minutes later, the three of them sat in the living room, around the low table. The dim light cast soft shadows on the walls. Salomé still held her knife, out of habit. Bakuran had set down his console, looking vaguely intrigued.

Sakolomé placed an old yellowed notebook in front of them.

— This is... Sally's journal, he whispered. It revealed to me the existence of a person, or rather a mythical creature, a dragon goddess named Ysolongue. I met her, in the world of myths. And she... she suffers. A lot.

Salomé frowned. Bakuran raised his head.

— She was once surrounded by her brothers and sisters, the ten Heirs of the Dragon God Orlongue. Powerful dragons, bearers of primal colors and mythical functions. But they separated, destroyed by pride and jealousy. Ysolongue stayed alone in their old castle. And she lost faith. She wants... to erase her memory so she no longer suffers.

There was a silence.

— Heirs? Dragons? Salomé said, intrigued.

— What's this story now? Bakuran said, eyebrows raised.

— I'll explain everything in detail later. What I'm asking today is for you to come with me tomorrow to that world. To help her. To bring back her smile. I feel this world is more connected to us than I thought.

Bakuran rubbed his chin, a lazy smile on his face. He didn't understand everything, but one thing intrigued him.

Dragons... ancient worlds... He immediately imagined a lush valley full of enchanting creatures: elves with divine curves, sirens with sultry voices, feline goddesses with shimmering skin.

— Hmm... if there are beautiful mythical creatures, I guess I might run into two or three pretty... people. Worth a try. Yeah, why not!

Salomé, for her part, was more serious. The mention of Ysolongue, of her pain, touched her. But more than that, a spark had ignited within her. She thought of her brother. How he was growing. Becoming stronger. Going further. She wanted, too, to evolve, to face powerful creatures, to challenge limits.

A world of myths, huh?

She crossed her arms.

— Alright. I'm coming. I want to evolve, and this world seems full of worthy trials.

Sakolomé looked at them both. His heart warmed. He reached out his hands toward them, palms open.

— So tomorrow... tomorrow, we will all be there.

Bakuran and Salomé placed their hands in his. Fingers tightened.

They were no longer just siblings. They were becoming support. A force.

After finishing his conversation with Bakuran and Salomé, Sakolomé sat quietly for a few moments in the living room. Then, as if pushed by a silent impulse, he stood and took the hallway leading to his mother's room. His footsteps muffled, he stopped before the simply decorated wooden door. He knocked gently.

— Mom... I'd like to talk to you, if you're there.

Silence.

Then the handle slowly turned.

Amu opened the door halfway, her calm face bathed in the soft light of the lamp behind her. Her gaze met Sakolomé's.

— I want us to talk outside.

She gently closed the door behind her, draped a shawl over her shoulders, and stepped into the garden. Sakolomé followed silently.

The night was clear, deep. The full moon shone like a silver mirror suspended in the sky. The wind was soft but carried an ancient, almost nostalgic breath. It caressed their faces as if to remind them of the weight of the past.

They sat on the stone bench in the center of the garden.

Amu spoke, her gaze turned toward the moon.

— I heard everything... everything you said to your brother and sister.

Sakolomé turned his head slightly toward her, without interrupting.

— I know I won't be able to stop you from leaving. And I won't try. But I want to tell you one thing... This world, the world of myths, it is ancient. Vast. And filled with truths you never imagined. You will learn much there, even... about me.

— About... you? Sakolomé murmured, a little unsettled.

— Yes. And I want that, whatever you discover... you won't be surprised. That you keep your composure. That you accept what you will see, what you will learn. Because these are your roots too.

She paused, eyes fixed on the clouds brushing the moon.

— Mother... what do you mean? Sakolomé asked, sincerely troubled.

Amu briefly closed her eyes before answering, in a soft but serious tone.

— Before the clan I belonged to disappeared... there was a people called the Dragon Men. We were humans, yes, but apart. We lived secluded, on the margins of the ordinary human world. Our culture, our rituals, our faith, our path... everything was different. We did not worship human gods. We followed the Dragon's Voice.

— The Dragon's Voice? Sakolomé whispered.

Amu nodded slowly.

— The world of myths was once frequented by my clan. We had sanctuaries there, deep bonds. But one day... the god of destruction, Zramë, rose. He erased our lineage, down to the last breath. The last song. I... am the last princess of this lost people.

Sakolomé remained frozen, his breath suspended.

— And you, my son... you, Salomé, Bakuran... you are the last children of Dragon Blood. You carry in you the traces of my clan, even if you don't know it yet. In this world, if you go there... your truths risk emerging. The blood... could awaken.

— The dragon's blood...? Sakolomé repeated, stunned.

Amu sighed deeply.

— Yes. It's not a metaphor. There is a living memory in our blood. A voice that whispers in the bones, in dreams, in breath. If ever you face this, if your origins reveal themselves... I don't want you to reject them. They are not curses. They are your roots. They are my love... and the legacy of those who came before me.

She placed her hand on her son's, pressing it tenderly.

— No matter what happens there... Remember that you are my son. That my blood flows in your veins, and that you are not alone.

Sakolomé remained silent for a moment, his gaze raised toward the moon.

His heart beat stronger. Heavier too. But in that weight, there was strength. A breath. Perhaps... the beginning of an ancient roar.

— Thank you, Mom... he finally murmured, his voice moved.

She did not answer. She simply squeezed his hand a little tighter.

And under the full moon, in the silence of the garden, a truth buried for centuries had gently begun to awaken.

In the calm that returned to the house, Sakolomé gently pushed open his bedroom door. He closed it behind him, quietly took off his shoes, then slowly lay down on his bed.

The dim light from the ceiling cast soft shadows on the walls. He lay for a few moments, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

He thought about all that awaited him in the world of myths... about Ysolongue, her sorrow, this strange yet meaningful quest. A promising, dangerous future, yes... but full of hope.

A slight smile appeared on his face.

He then turned his head and saw, resting on his bedside table, Sally's journal. Bound in leather, but still intact. Next to it, a slightly worn plush toy, with faded colors: the little bear that Sally, or rather Melinda, always kept with her.

Sakolomé reached out, gently touched the plush, then fixed his gaze on the journal for a moment.

His smile widened, softer, more personal.

— Until tomorrow... he whispered.

He turned off the light.

And in the peaceful darkness of the room, he finally let himself be carried away by sleep.