Heart of Ruin

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. We had no use for the land that is now known as Cavrynicus. But now? Now, I can’t help but look out over the dips and peaks as the suns set above me. The sight leaves me breathless, in awe, even after all the rises and sets I’ve witnessed. The land awash in hues of pinks, blues, and greens, it’s hard to imagine that there wasn’t always a valley to begin with. That there was more to this before it was carved out for us. That this part of the world now belongs to us. The only part of the world where dragons still roam free. Veiled from the rest of the population, we have thrived, we have lived. We have endured this existence where we are and are not. Our version of this world now sung about in tunes, myths and legends. Existing peacefully despite the tragedy that brought us to these depths. Were we saved from the worst of it or sentenced for a crime we did not commit?

Once, the world was overrun with dragons, ruled by the ancient race. There were empires that spanned across the land, kingdoms of avarice and gold, warmth and kindness, justice, and fairness. That was before. Before time itself erased an era and the world grew cold. Before the arrival of the others…and the shift. The shift in the world that made her want more. More than the companionship we could offer our Goddess, but what she sought when she introduced us to her new creations, we’ve never been able to uncover. Why, as the centuries went on, she’d often disappear and return with something new. Or why under the cover of night, we fell asleep and instead of awaking to one sun, we awoke to two. As her original creations, the dragons never thought to ask, to question their creator. They accepted the new additions to their society, taught the birds of flying and tasting the winds. Showed the horses how to stretch their legs forward and back, becoming nothing but a breeze as they floated over the land. The dragons were the first guardians of the realm and of its populace. Still, Echevarria created. She happily brought over these new lives and watched as all her children interacted. Most she left under our care, others, like the fae, the wolves, and bears were sent off into part of the Wildlands, watched by our sentries from afar. Carving out their homes in this new world, learning the ways of life in this skin they now live in. For a time Echevarria seemed content, the faraway look in her eyes the only glint of unhappiness. And because she is our Goddess, our sacred deity, no one ever thought to ask.

To understand the will and reasonings of a God, it’s almost ridiculous, isn’t it? But if we came from her, shouldn’t a part of us also seek the same as she has? Are the inner workings of our Sovereign so simple? Is it my place to attempt to understand? We were her pioneers, born of sun, water, earth, air, and the sheer force of will. Echevarria bore us as she would her first breaths. Swathed in scales and armed with intelligence and fire, the First were created. Six dragon eggs, one for each element, the Fifth for strength of heart, of will, and the Sixth, simply ordinary. An egg hatched with no gifts, no special abilities, nothing but a song in her blood that sang to those she cared for, those who cared for her. As the original beings roaming these lands, the dragons learned to evolve just as the world around them did, as the world around us still does. It was part of our charge, to care for the world around us, to set off and explore. Some of us matured and flew off to the farthest corners of this world, coming back only to tell stories of what was found there. Oceans made of frost, mountains that spew fire, and woods that whistle and speak in tongues, we conquered it all. The dragons of old learned to live in harmony with the land in its harshest conditions, adapted and tended to the soil beneath their claws, helping sustain the life Echevarria blew into this terrane. It is why, even now, we still hear the lilt of the world when she hums us to sleep. Dragons have existed for as long as the world has been sentient. They have used their gifts to command each other and the others, to quell any form of unrest. A race of cardinal warriors, of scholars, inventors, and healers. Existing between the lines of rage and resilience, a righteous army of beasts that exist to serve their goddess and protect the land they were given.

In modern times, dragons are rarities. Even in the beginning we were few. Reproducing only happens so often when you’re as long lived as this race. Our females practically live in heat, but are only fertile a few times throughout the span of our lives. It is not something that can be scented, the goddess was merciful in that aspect. It is always the females’ choice to reveal when the time arrives, multiplying was never our duty, though the option for that type of joy remained. Unlike our Goddess’ Humans. They were created to be plentiful, to cultivate the Wildlands in ways our ancestors never desired to. To spread knowledge and create cultures that would continue to grow with time. Not a long-lived race, but with lives long enough to ripen and mature. Sponges that would absorb what is given to them and reflect it back tenfold.

“We need a little more diversity” it is said that the goddess spoke one day, appearing as a reflection of Yidra, the Sixth. She introduced Yidra to a babe, a small whiny little thing that grew quickly and whose mind aged even faster. Alongside the babe was a slightly older female human, meant to be caretaker of the young boy when he came of age. Until then, they both lived amongst us, nurtured and protected by us as they learned of the world around them. True to their nature, they were curious things, the older they got the more freedom they wanted, and one day they bid the dragons farewell and set off to populate the world. Little did we know that our goddess had planted more of these humans in the world, ones that weren’t touched by the honor and influence of the First. Humans that were watched warily by the sentries stationed across the world. And it was until the curiosity and greed of man came to the shores of our empire that we lived in peace, side by side. Until the death of Yidra at the hands of one of those other Humans. When we sought justice, we were deemed a threat to the ever-growing kingdom of men. We were expelled from the seas, shunned from the mountains, turned away from the trees. Villainous, treacherous, dangerous, curses hurled at us as we ventured across the world, seeking the comfort only a fellow dragon could offer.

“They know not what they speak, the hate that spews from the very same mouths we fed. We’ve never harmed them, and while some of us have been nurtured in violence, so too have the Humans been breeding in the dark. We shall see what comes.” Ruine, the First and dragon of air spoke. Once revered and respected, we were now feared and hated. As if they were not raised and nurtured by us only to fear us in the end. All because of their voracity, their thirst for what did not belong to them. Too soon did they learn that the melody in Yidra’s blood is what allowed us to flourish quickly and peacefully. The serenity that was her gift in the end, that soothed the land around her and her lineage, and allowed for our empire to blossom even under siege and through adversity. The same blood that sang to that weepy boy and solemn girl, giving them the courage to venture out. The adventure that led the other humans here centuries later. That ended in the bloodshed of our most beloved leader.

“Not all humans are this way. But just like the faces of the moons, there is a shadow lurking behind us all, held at bay by the strength of our will. The will of some turns them dark, let this stain tighten your leashes and turn you to the light.” Echevarria declared to our kind one night. To keep the peace, the land was divided, we were sent to Cavrynicus, a valley that stretches farther than the eye can see. Shrouded in mist, surrounded by lakes, rivers and hot springs, most would see paradise but it has been enchanted not to be seen at all without invitation. Protective measures that were created by the First when we were brought to this new land. From our new home, we see, hear and know all. After the death of Yidra, her descendants were granted the ability to take on the form of man, walk amongst them, learn of their new gifts as they once learned ours. A new kind of a dragon, emissaries that can bring back bits and pieces of this new world, that can even breed like and with Humans, Humanakins.

“No longer emperors over the land, but sentinels, my champions in times of peril.” Echevarria declared. There are two types of humans left that exist in our realm. The Enraptured, humans with the gift to wield magic and the Ladrys, those that are more human than magic, that thirsted for the songs they could not hear, yearned for the euphony to run along their bones. The Ladrys are the ones of their kind responsible for the death of Yidra. The Ladrys keep to the stone walls of Grimoire Kingdom. The few magic users that live there are only skilled in household skills, only some families blessed with the will to possess some of the magic released by the land. The Enraptured were divided among the Wyldwin Mountains, mainly the home to the Caliphsters, shape shifting tribes that can melt skin and bone into animals and beings of their choosing. These are the humans that came in contact with the wolves and the fae. They intermingled and lived in harmony, so much so that their gifts became intertwined. However, there are limits to those gifts. Echevarria made sure that most families can only take on one form, but to those for whom the magic resonates with the most, they are the rare ones that can will themselves into the wind itself should they choose. The Trimantis people, humans that incipiently lived by the rushing waters of any shore or bend, now mostly live in the seas. The magic once sung to them the loudest. After they settled near the coast of what is now, the Lost Sea, high tide was so bad that Echevarria granted them the gift of gills and fins. Once upon a time they were able to seamlessly transition between forms in the water. Learning how to fly through the shallowest pond and the depth of the sea from Agayu, the Second and serpent dragon, a vain slender thing with the gift of water and healing. Though, no longer are the Trimantis people allowed to travel on land, while they can breathe air stepping on dry land would mean forfeiting their fins and some don’t survive the transition, their magic never does. Some consider that a fate worse than death. There are lands with no names, dead plains where great battles were once waged. Animals are still plentiful. Our sentient brethren, who also hear the music of the land keep to Phorewoods, they paid for no sins as they are the gentlest of us. The Small Folk and the Nymphs, closer to our Sovereign than even us dragons.

Our goddess is in search of something, in need of something that immortality and omnipotence has yet to give her. She spent the years after the shift studying us from afar and when curiosity won out, she appeared to our prophetess and made her inquiries. Noijo, the Third, the dragon she bestowed the gift of air and knowledge upon, is it possible that she knows something? That her sight has allowed her to understand something even our Creator cannot?

“You have the ability to wipe them all from existence, the Ladrys, the Enraptured and all nuisances from the ruins of your empire, and yet, you accepted my offer, shifted your place in the world, why? Why not rage? Did you not love the power you held? Why not fight?” Echevarria asked. These are questions that after years of pouring over our history, I still don’t understand the answer to.

“Because you love them, lady.” was all the answer that was given. As all creations on this world are loved by the Goddess, by our Echevarria. Who are we to eliminate the other? We fight for power, for dominance but never for extinction, eradication. Unlike some in the kingdoms of men, who seek to be the only creation loved by and cared for by Echevarria. So, we moved on after our millennium came to a close. We allowed the Enraptured and their kinfolk to run the world, and the dragons faded into mere memory. Becoming legends of the magic and wonder that once was bountiful. It was one of the punishments we all had to accept.

The Ladrys, like Yidra once was, would be ordinary, not even a whisper of a magic in their blood, no melody in their hearts. The land still breathes magic, but only a few can tap into it, and they can’t use it as freely as we once did. It now must sing to a skill you already possess and it will enhance it, refine it, allow you to excel in ways that wouldn’t be possible without the calling in our blood. This is a gift bestowed only to those descended from the first pair of humans that lived in Yidra’s heart. The true matriarch of the Enraptured. Her symphony now runs through their veins. The purer the heart, the stronger the magic, but that isn’t to say that dark hearts don’t get past our Sovereign, that the land can’t be manipulated into singing for malice instead of pleasure. These questions plague me, they make me question my very existence but, none of that is what brought me here, to this spot I haven’t visited in what seems like forever.

An alcove buried in the highest peak of Cavrynicus. I’d been climbing here as a whelp even before my wings developed. When this human body was all I had, before I’d mastered letting the human body melt away, allowing my body as a dragon to grow in its place. A reflection and acceptance of the true form of my soul, before I was Dragon, before Dragon was me.

Free falling off this peak was my test, my flight run to make sure I could ride the winds just as well as anyone else. The primordial Humanakin dragon that was born to a human form, as opposed to hatched from our eggs. No one knew what to make of me and while they’ve adapted, they still don’t see me as I see me. Respect me yes, fear me to some extent, but acceptance? I’ve yet to receive that whch I seek outside of the thunder of Humanakin dragons that were also born instead of hatched. So, I left behind childhood machinations, did things by the book so no one could question me, and did everything I could to bring me to this day. My 200th year, the day my future is revealed to me, to uncover my dragon destiny. And it is the prophecy that I’ve encountered that has me at a complete loss. No love, victory or wealth in my future…well that’s not entirely true, the oracle revealed to me, “Solan Lunaris, you are destined to love, serve, and protect Echevarria’s Heart.”

“Okay, how is that any different from our purpose as dragons?” I asked warily.

Noijo looks at me, the corners of her eyes crinkling as her face blooms in the softest of smiles. To see what she has seen, in her millennia and out of it, the twilight years have been kind to her, the last of the First that reside among us. One of two of the six that have not been returned to our Goddess.

“It isn’t, and it is. You are charged with the protection of our Goddess’ heart, but what is the heart of a God? I think that’s what you’re meant to find out. You love this land like no other, were born with a thirst for knowing that hasn’t been seen in centuries.” She winks at me, fully well knowing that only her lineage is blessed with the gift of sight. “This is what I see for you” she continues, “What comes of it is up to you.” And with that she sent me off. Lifted the flap of her tent and nodded towards the exit. “I can say no more Sol, as much as I love you, our paths are our own to uncover, and what wondrous things will come of your journey, I can only hope our Goddess is kind enough to allow me to bear witness.” Her last words to me before I stumbled out of her tent, more confused than when I entered.

I expected…I don’t know what I expected, my future among the dragons has never felt secure, it always felt as if I should be off somewhere else. I thought for sure I’d be an emissary, I am a Humanakin that’s what we were created for, what I was born for. But protector of Echevarria’s heart? Does the Goddess even have one? Sure, she loves us but she’s had no consort in any of the histories we’ve learned. Has spent her eternity alone, having appeared on the winds of a desolate world and breathed life into it as it did into her. Almost as if the world wished to have a friend, desired it so badly that our Goddess was born of darkness and starlight. What does any of it mean? Looking out at the expanse of this world, the browns, greens and yellows in the trees, caves and skies, my own heart roars in my chest. What if her heart is all of this, the people, the beings, creatures, and critters; what if her heart is the land itself? What do I, Solan Lunaris, have to offer?

Standing up on the highest point of this peak, willing my bones to grow and melt as I throw my arms out to the side and launch myself from its height. Allowing the burning, shimmering light to overtake me completely, for the roar of the shift to escape me. Willing silver scales to sprout over my brown skin, for teeth and claws of iron to rip through me. For diamond scales and leather to sprout from my back, growing larger as I fall. Until large pale emerald green eyes snap open and behold the ground racing upwards, calculating how far and fast I fall. Until wings mightier than a gale-force spread and lift me high above the clouds, taking me behind the suns to the system of dens and caves that is Cavrynicus. Soaring past the glowing lights in the Humanakin city, up towards the peaks of the stone castle in Grimoire Kingdom. Wings kissing the snowcapped peaks of the Wyldwin Mountains, dipping into the warmth of the Greylea Sea. Flying always gave me a special sense of clarity, not just a form of transportation but of therapy. What do I have to offer Echevarria’s Heart? Everything that I am and will be, even if the heart itself is never revealed to me.

***************************************************************.

What does deafening silence sound like? Like worn out joints grinding bone against bone, arthritis born from a tundra made of cold, dead silence. The mist in which – *muffled shout*.

Here we go again…hear that? That shrill, hysterical sound? Welp, that’s Don, Don thinks he’s my boss, he’s not. And he’s interrupted me during one of my rare inner monologue moments. Dammit Don, now look at what you’ve stepped into.

“Yes, Don?” I drawl as he rushes into my office, red faced, teeth bared; sheesh, the dramatics.

“This is not what I asked you to do.” He spits out. Ooh, I’m shaking.

I’m going to stop here and just say that the world is full of dicks and assholes, that’s usually how we get to this point. The point where I find myself at a crossroads, do we go left or do we go right? Do I flip my lid, relinquish my power? Or do we allow civility to reign supreme. Ah, so many choices. Maybe I should show them what happens if I go right, past the point of no return. Show them the depths of this chasm and the terror that may reign upon them should I choose the path that pulls me…Okay, I’ll stop, I’m just a normal woman, working a 9-5 job she needs to survive, with none of the mystical abilities I fantasize about having. You know – magic, shape shifting, absolute control over the elements including spirit, sigh. Yes, I say sigh as opposed to doing it audibly, but let’s focus on the matter at hand.

Oh, the rage; the wrath in and of itself could be a superpower but I just get angry, and really dizzy – no super strength. Alas, the wrath is my saving grace, but it will also be my death sentence. Enough! You didn’t stop by to hear about my humanly woes, let’s get back to the fight, it’s about to get to the good part.

“What am I supposed to do, Don, this is how it’s done, the process is above me.” I say over the top of my monitor.

Don is visibly trying to restrain himself, it’d be almost commendable if I were wrong – I’m not. “I told you what I wanted you to do, please do it.” He asks.

“Sir,” I start, “that’s not how this works. You asked for this document, that’s exactly what I gave you.” I’m just about done here. When will they learn that, to my detriment, I am not a mind reader. You get what you asked for, which in this case is a blank piece of paper on our letterhead. The joys of office work, ladies and gentlepeople.

“But that’s not what I wanted!” He grits out through clenched teeth.

Ready now? Cue the up in arms moment in 3…2…1 PAPERS EVERYWHERE! “Well shit, Don! Let me put on my telepathy cap so I can do that for you.” I say passionately…talk about restraint.

A sputtering Don struggles to speak, his voice raising by the octave, as if he could ever match me “Shit?! What do you mean shit?!”

“I mean SHIT. EXCREMENT. POOP. FECES, FUCKING MIERDA, comprende?!” Now I’m raising my voice, I hate raising my voice.

“Who Do –” Don starts, but does not finish.

“Do NOT raise your voice at me.” I feel almost bad, his face is red, he’s sweating and out of breath, we’ve only been talking for two minutes and he’s already stuttering. Guess he hadn’t heard about me.

“Lower your voice or get out of my office Don. I don’t work for you and my black ass is not your slave.” I try to gather myself, inhale, exhale, I’m breathing.

Sweet silence, and then “…. I thought you were Spanish?” Don squeaks out.

“GOOD. BYE.” I gesture towards the door angrily. “Tu maldita madre” I mutter under my breath as Don storms out still fuming from his dismissal. I can’t wait for that call from human resources, again. You’d think they’d learn; my job is to follow the rules, but alas, I am human, and we all have our limits. I may not be a sorcerer, but I am a whiz at my job and that pride belongs solely to me. So, let’s go see the wizard of oz.

Sitting at my desk waiting for the other shoe to drop, I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong here. At this desk or in this world. Like there’s some other purpose for these shitty 28 years of life I’ve led. Maybe Cami G can explain it to me, she says she knows all and tells me stories about a different time, a benevolent Goddess who never stops creating, and a land of wonder full of endless possibilities. One where there’s a song I’ve heard before, that sings me to sleep and shakes me awake.

“It’s a different place, Corazon.” Cami G would whisper. I’d imagine that it was a world of color, one that feels realer than what’s around me right now. God is an intelligent designer, there has to be more than all of this.

Oh, I’m ranting again. I forgot to introduce myself to today’s audience, you may only exist in my head but you deserve to know your narrator. I’m Finalia Guerreo – Fina, for short. It’s nice to meet you.