Sleeping Among Dragons

We continued to walk in circles. The isle of the day contracted, stretching the length of our journey. We walked and walked. My feet ached, my body sore, yet we did not stop. It was easy to see the difference between the two halves of Gladius.

The path of leaves and dirt stood in sharp contrast to the stone—scarred, burned, and frozen over from years of battle. A stone I was still not accustomed to.

Although we traveled together, Kundra floated slightly ahead, hovering just above the ground while I trudged barefoot over the rough terrain.

I wondered when I would get my wings—if I ever would. The gap between my soul and body, my dragon half and my human half, was painfully clear. I sighed. I wished I didn't have to walk on this hard stone.

But such is life. Walking a path until you can make it your own. My core, buried deep, used Var with every step. Every movement had an effect on my soul, as if my very existence was an ever-updating status.

Side by side, we walked. And walked. And walked. Eventually, the pain faded—not because it disappeared, but because I had grown used to it.

For a moment, I wondered why we never stopped to rest. But that thought was short-lived as we finally passed the mountain. How I wished I could fly over it, to avoid the climb. But I kept walking. Kundra stayed beside me.

I knew he could have left me behind. But he was protecting me—from other dragons, from the ones who might discover my secret. My immortality.

I still wasn't sure why I had been given this ability, but I knew I had to keep moving forward. To get stronger.

I thought about when I would finally grow out of this frail child's body. I thought about the powers I had yet to awaken. But I kept walking.

As we passed a group of ants, I watched them fight one another—strengthening their bodies with what little Var they had. What little energy they could muster.

I wondered if I could do the same. I wondered what powers I had received from the ants and why my own abilities seemed to emerge sporadically.

I watched as the ants encased themselves in Var, clashing with the black ants.

They fought well. But the black ants had abilities too—a dark fire, a shadow that consumed the battlefield. One by one, the black ants seemed to disappear.

It became more and more clear—these powers, these abilities, were governed by pearls of Var. Yet each being contained something unique.

And for some reason, that realization made me… happy.

I watched the ants die. I felt nothing. And yet, I felt the same odd sensation I had when I killed them myself. A tingling. A shiver.

What the fuck is this? I thought.

It was like alcohol. Like something addictive. I pushed away from the fighting, distancing myself from the battle.

As we walked over the mountains, more came into view—fifteen more, stretching endlessly before us. We began our descent. Kundra offered to fly me down, but I refused.

As darkness crept over the world and night fell upon us, we finally reached our destination—Judra's home.

It was carved into the mountainside, the stone marked with scars and burns. I couldn't sense any Var.

Kundra whistled.

The sharp sound filled the air, followed by a deep rumbling.

The giant wall shifted, stone grinding against stone as it moved out of the way.

A spell? Magic?

RUMBLE.

The cave was deep, stretching far beyond what I could see. A soft glow flickered from within—crystals embedded in the rock, casting pale blue light over the stone walls. The air was warmer here, more comfortable than the cold mountain air outside.

There was a small makeshift pool of water at the end of the cave, carved into the stone. It wasn't natural—they had made it themselves. The surface was still, reflecting the dim light of the glowing crystals above.

Nearby, simple mats were spread across the ground, woven from thick cloth and dried grass. They weren't luxurious, but they were enough.

And we weren't alone.

Two dragons stood deeper in the cave. Both were about the age of Kundra, their hair catching the dim light, but it was their eyes that first caught my attention—sharp, watching me with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Kundra stepped forward. "These are my sisters—Ryllie and Eghiss."

Ryllie had deep violet scales, her wings edged with streaks of silver. Her horns curved backward, sharp and sleek, and her piercing gold eyes studied me like a puzzle she was trying to solve.

Eghiss, on the other hand, had jade-green hair with dark, webbed wings that folded neatly behind her. Her horns were shorter, twisting slightly outward, and her eyes were a stormy gray, shifting like clouds before a storm.

They both had pale white skin and human faces similar to Kundra's.

I glanced between them. "Are you actually related?"

Kundra huffed. "Of course we are."

"But you don't look anything alike."

"That's just how it is," he assured me, turning to his sisters. "This is my friend, Availeth."

Friend.

It was a strange thing to hear.

I nodded, still unsure what to say. The cave was surprisingly cozy, much more than I expected. Worn rugs lined the stone floor, and the walls had marks—runes, carved and etched deep into the rock.

Ryllie stretched, yawning. "You're lucky. Most places don't have a water source like this."

"Did you make this place?" I asked.

"We made it," Eghiss added. "Took time, but it's worth it."

"Over time," Ryllie said. "Judra helped."

Eghiss settled against the wall, her gray eyes studying me. "How old are you?" she asked.

I hesitated, then answered.

A look of surprise—and something else, something wary—flashed across her face. She turned to Kundra, lowering her voice. I couldn't hear what they were saying. I could tell it was about me.

I felt like I should say something.

"Still growing," I muttered.

Ryllie tilted her head. "Hmph. You're young. Really young."

"How old are you?" I asked.

She grinned, flashing sharp teeth. "A hundred and twenty."

Eghiss stretched her wings. "I'm a hundred and forty."

I blinked. "You don't look that old."

Eghiss chuckled. "That's because dragons age differently."

Ryllie smirked. "You can't fly, can you?"

I stiffened but didn't answer.

"Don't worry," she said. "I got my wings when I was seventy-five."

Seventy-five.

That was a long time, but nothing in the vast lives of dragons.

To them, decades are like seasons—passing, changing, and rarely significant.

I always wondered how I would change.

Would I grow horns or wings like them? Would my body shift, becoming more dragon than human?

Or would I always stay like this—stuck between two halves, never fully one or the other?

Kundra flopped down on one of the makeshift mats. "We should rest. It's been a long walk."

The others followed suit, settling into their spots. I hesitated before sitting down on the worn fabric. It wasn't much, but after the endless walking, it felt like luxury.

I closed my eyes. The cave was quiet, safe.

For now, that was enough.