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Empty Nests

A Soul Resurrected

By Justin Luke RoaPublished about a year ago 14 min read
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The worth of a dragon. Many find it in their scales. To come close to a dragon with ill intent and leaving alive is rare indeed. To make it out alive with any manner of scale in hand is nearly an impossibility for most, though not all. But even among dragon scales, there are those of greater value and significance. Malleability, toughness, taste; things that can matter to the right buyer. A gold dragon scale can send someone from the depths of miry poverty into the heights of lavish prosperity.

Then there are those who place worth on the trove of a dragon's experience and time on the earth. Dragons are wholly unlike other creatures on the earth. They do not live as we do. We mortals live for decades. The dragons, when unhindered by violence, have no set day to die. These otherworldly beings would be immortal if not for people like us. For that reason, they look at us with the eyes of gods. Seeing our existence as fleeting an ephemeral.

So what worth can any human, even the grandest, strongest, or wealthiest, have to something so far above?

***

'Though the mightiest live and yearn for naught

Though the skies are our most cherished fields

Some day soon and some day all

Will yield to the earth's long call.'

The song that rang in her head over and over and over for the last few several centuries. As the mother sored toward the horizon, the sun began to set, and the memories came flooding her mind once more.

'Mother, the sun looks so tasty at this time of day! Like a giant fruit!' her son would beam every sunset for over a millennium. It was quite adorable for the first 460 years or so, but by year 720 it got very old.

Every now and then the mother would try to add variety to the exchange with her son. 'A fruit?' she would say incredulously. 'What fruit could possibly be so big?' Other times she would say 'But of course! It's clearly some sort of citrus fruit!'

The mother gave a small chuckle that was more of an exhale. Her heart would sing recollecting these memories, but then soon wail in response. No one ever thinks it would happen to them; their own child even less so. A dragon experiencing the call of the earth? Preposterous. You would only hear of it happening one or twice every few millennia. After all, what could possibly stand and prevail against the might of a dragon?

The thought only frustrated the mother in her grieving. How could it have been him? How careless was he being?! Even one hundred humans shouldn't have stood a chance against him! Moreso, if he was being overpowered by some fiendish wiles, why did he not simply take flight to flee! The mother blew smoke out of her nostrils at the thought.

She had left him alone for only about 30 years or so. Nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. And it wasn't as if he was a small helpless child. He was nearly an adult at the age of 1,127 years! He knew well at that point all the wealth of options at his disposal!

The sun was going lower and lower, with the dark of the night creeping in closer and closer. Though she flew toward the sun, she could never hope to catch up with it for long. The mother finally lowered in altitude, landing in a nearly barren canyon, save its river. This time she managed to fly after the sunset for 7 days. Her longest flight yet. She had no reason to do this. Not really. But what else could a mother do? The wound was still far too new.

When her son was called to the earth, she felt the loss that very instant. The link between her soul and her son's was severed. When dragons commune, they do it not with spoken words but with the ringing of their souls. For this reason dragons had no use for names. Whenever a fellow would commune with you, it was always plainly obvious who it was. And nothing could be hidden when two souls commune. Among the dragons, souls were always laid bare. Lies and deceit were concepts that never existed for their kind.

And among dragons that shared blood or shared their bodies, a soul link was established. A nester to her begetter. A father or mother to their child. No matter the distance or time spent apart, the soul link ensures that those bound by it always feel close to each other. When the earth calls you, the connections you made disappear. The bond is broken.

The mother, reflecting the sun's light off her gold scales for the last few moments before night, looked down toward the gorge where the river ran. She gazed upon its teal flow and was again reminded of her departed son. His eyes always shined brightly with that exact color, just like his father.

The child's father, her begetter, was off grieving in his own way, just as she was with her. The mother could feel he was not yet ready to speak to her, and frankly she was not ready either. The last time they met, the day after her son answered the call of the earth, along with all other linked to their souls, they had sung their song of grief in the Garden of Passing for five decades. The two then laid intertwined for some time, but they did not attempt to bring another child into the world out of respect for their departed son.

As the mother reminisced, she noticed a commotion happening down at the gorge. A gaggle of humans shouting and making noise as they always do. Humans always waste so much energy with unnecessary noises and words. All for such little honest communication. For all their complexities they always end up engaging in such cyclical problems.

These humans seemed to be riding some updated manner of chariots without horses. Quite a peculiar thing. There were three, four, five chariots. The humans exited the inside of their contraptions and started unloading multiple items as well. One human woman was pushed out while holding a child in her arms. Hmph. Barbarism.

Everyone began yelling again, but this was directed at the mother. She was crying and pleading with these other humans, men and women alike. They plopped their remaining items on the floor, though some were thrown at this woman. The woman and her child were surrounded by various objects. Then the rest of the humans entered their mobile contraptions and left in the direction they came. The woman, the mother, began shouting, running after them in futility.

She stopped and dropped to her knees on the floor, her child still in her hands. The dragon could hear the faint whimpering and crying coming from the child. She was always terrible at gauging the ages of human children. The child had hair on its head and seemed to be speaking in gibberish nothings. Perhaps the child was... 10 years old? No, no, that can't be right. A human at that age can talk properly. Ah. He must be between 1 and 2.

The woman grabbed another human contraption that seemed to fold and unfold. She placed the child on it. After that she worked with all the other items left to her, creating a tent and then a fire. It would seem the other humans cast out this lonely woman. Humanity never ceases with its barbarism. As night fell, the woman went inside the tent with her child and stayed there until morning. Such a curious scene.

The mother dragon stayed on top of the gorge for days watching this woman fend for herself and her child. For a while it was fairly uneventful. The woman apparently had stores of food for some time.

On the eighth day the child was roaming around the tent, making more gibberish noises. As awful as humans generally are, their young are just as innocent as that of any other creature. Curious, playful, hungry and yearning for their mothers' attention. The woman ran around after her son playfully, lifting him off the ground, kissing his face and showing genuine affection. Though the woman was clearly in distress, she did not hide her love for her child, who was definitely a son. The dragon let out a sigh.

That night, the woman had placed her child in the tent to sleep. The woman did not stay inside with her son, sitting on the floor outside by the fire, pondering. She gathered a few things in her back-satchel and then walked away from the tent despite the darkness. It would seem the human mother ran out of food and now had to fend for herself. The woman ventured away from the light of the fire until she steadily entered the void of the night.

This woman was to be respected. Truly one who sacrifices for her young as all mothers should. The mother dragon nodded her head, proud of this tiny human woman.

Hours passed and the morning came. The human mother still hadn't returned. The child could be heard crying in the tent, clearly panicked without his mother. The cries turned into shrieks. Looking all around her, the mother dragon became concerned. Perhaps the mother simply had a long trek throughout the canyon. It would be cruel to allow such a helpless, sentient being to be alone.

The mother slowly floated down the gorge and softly landed close to the tent. Using one of her claws, she slowly ripped an opening through the tent, allowing the child to leave it. Upon laying eyes at the imposing draconic being before him, the child simply stared in awe, muttering more nothings. "Ba ba ba ba ba!" he screeched. His face was still pink from his prior screaming and crying.

'Fear not, child,' the dragon communed with her soul. 'Your mother is off fetching sustenance for you. All will be well.' The child plopped onto the floor and looked at the dragon.

The language of the soul can be understood in any human language and even to any creature, no matter how base. The specifics of the communication may be lost on baser beings, but the depth of emotion can still be understood.

After an hour or so the child cried once more. Gazing into the boy's soul, the mother dragon could see that he was hungry. Letting out a sigh, the dragon carefully placed the child back in the tent and gave his soul the direction to sleep once more.

The dragon quickly headed into the wilderness in search for some sort of game. Fly some miles to a forest, she found a dear and quickly singed it quickly, ending its life in a few short moments. She grabbed the body with her clawed hand and flew back to the child.

Only about an hour or so had passed. The dragon still saw no signs of the woman's return. As the child continued to sleep, the dragon placed the deer's body on her tail after carefully skinning it with her claws. Letting out a hum, the dragon's body grew hotter, ensuring the food would not be raw. Finally, the dragon chewed the body into mush, then reheated the mush on her tail.

'Awaken,' the dragon communed. The child slowly got up and exited the tent, letting out a long yawn. The dragon chuckled. 'Come and eat,' she said, and the child slowly walked over to her now lukewarm tail. Grabbing a fistful of mush in his hand, the child put some in his mouth and chewed slowly.

"Ba babaaaa," the boy spoke with his mouth full as he grabbed another fistful of meat. Apparently the bland or charred taste didn't bother the boy much. The dragon had been under the impression that human children were a bit more picky.

The boy ate his fill while leaving most of the food left over. How much longer would this dragon watch over a human child? Hopefully the boy's mother would return soon.

Days passed and there was still no sign of the woman. The dragon had merely repeated her process of sending the child to sleep and then hunting to feed it. Did the mother die in the wilderness or did she simply abandon her young? Both were ghastly possibilities.

Stranger was the boy's continued lack of fear in the dragon's presence. Even with the communication of souls, most creatures would be wary around dragons, even an infant. For whatever reason, there was not a hint of trepidation in the child's soul.

On the tenth day of watching over the boy, the dragon started pondering what to do with this situation. Would she continue to watch over the boy until he could fend for himself? It would only be about nine more years in that manner. That is a very short time. Surely the child would learn to hunt or fight by then. But the dragon did not know how to teach a human child how to hunt in a way humans could. It dawned on her that she was not fit to help the child grow in such a way to dwell with other humans.

'What will be done with you?' the dragon asked. The child who had been playing with the dragon's tail stopped what he was doing and looked the golden wyrm right in her eyes. The sun made the color of the boy's eyes abundantly clear. Eyes like the river of the gorge. A bright, shining teal. Eyes like her beloved son.

The dragon's eyes widened at the absurdity of such a thing happening to her. Were the lords of the cosmos toying with her emotions now? This was too much to simply be a coincidence. All the circumstances surrounding this child were far too timely to her.

'Thank you, ancient one' the child communed. The dragon jumped back and her heart began to race, eyes widened in shock.

'What is this?!' her soul shouted. 'What are you?'

The child's eyes glowed as he communed. 'I'm not quite sure. But I know that my mother was cast out because of me.'

'How so?'

"People aren't fond of hearing other voices inside their minds.'

'Fair enough. But they would reject you both for just that?'

The child shook his head and tilted his head upward toward the sky. He inhaled with his nostrils and slowly exhaled from his mouth. As he breathed out, fire streamed from his mouth.

'Impossible!' the dragon's soul yelped with her mouth agape.

'So not even you have any idea of what I am?' the boy asked dejected. 'No one has any explanation for me. And now it seems my own mother has left me too.'

'You do not know that, child,' the dragon assured him. 'I could see she loves you dearly.'

'Then... is she dead?'

The dragon paused and sighed. 'I am not certain, but it is possible.' The boy turned away from the dragon and his eyes welled up with tears. Soon he was wailing. Though his soul seemed mature, he was still just a child. How could anyone, especially a mother, leave him like this?

'Child, allow me to assist you going forward.'

The child still had tears in his eyes, but he ceased his screaming. 'How?' his soul whispered feebly.

'There is something about you that is both human and dragon. Your soul seems far more ancient than it should be. Whatever is happening now, it seems that the Lords of the Cosmos have ordained our meeting. Will you allow me to care for you?'

The boy's breathing slowly became steady and he looked into the dragon's eyes again, nodding.

'Very good. Perhaps we will consult with a dragon far older than I to find out what you are.'

'I see... so what do I call you?'

'Excuse me?'

'A name, dragon.'

'We dragons do not have names, child. It is not necessary for us.'

'That seems very inconvenient.'

'Your precociousness has its drawbacks.'

'My name is Bechorath, by the way. I would prefer you call me Bechorath instead of child.'

The dragon rolled her eyes. 'You humans and your names. Fine. I will refer to you as Bechorath.'

'Thank you. Now you need a name too.'

'I truly don't.'

'But what should that name be?'

'I am not a human's pet that I should be named, Bechorath.'

'You look golden. Goldie? No that sounds weird.'

'This is foolish and a waste of time.'

The boy looked at the sun in the sky as it was beginning to set. 'The sun reminds me of a citrus fruit,' his soul observed. The dragon stopped breathing for a moment. 'I'll call you Clementine!' his soul beamed.

The mother dragon looked away from the boy and gazed at the sun, unable to believe the Lords would be so kind to her. Her breathing became uneven as her eyes watered. It was as though her son was alive once more. She collected herself and turned to face the boy once more.

'Alright. You may call me Clementine.'

FantasyShort Story
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About the Creator

Justin Luke Roa

A novice creative writer that loves fantasy and science fiction. Hopefully I'll create something worthwhile on here.

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