Moon Palace

There weren't always dragons in the valley. Yegaria, the fool, brought the first with her centuries ago in the annual migration to Thalia, the name of our Earth and home of our ancestors. The dragon was too young to stay in their land, but she should’ve left the beast to withstand the trials of life. If it were strong enough, it would’ve thrived and if not, died and returned to Thalia as we all do. But no, she had to intervene, and now we’re the ones having to suffer and endure the blight of darkness that has descended upon our lands.

It is said that Adeya, goddess of the moon and all under its light, prophesied a dragon would come bearing her mark of the crescent moon, and that this dragon would journey with a powerful Fae deep into the heart of Thalia to banish the dark with her dragonbreath.

The suns have risen and slept for a thousand years since then. Adeya’s prophecy is lost to many, but hope lingers like mist amongst the Fae Elders. A longing for this year's migration to be the one that will finally bring the saviours they’ve been waiting lifetimes for.

******

The rocky road is blood red under my boots, the central vein of an earthen river that meanders through snow-covered mountains to our ancestral home. The clouds are lingering low today, hiding the mountain peaks towering above. I smile as the wind whispers tales of distant lands against my cheeks.

A tragar snorts as it plods softly ahead, all six of its three-toed, circular feet padding the sound of its steps. Their stumpy tails, broad, strong backs, and big bellies sway rhythmically, an odd contrast to their white fur and sparkling purple eyes.

These tragar are harnessed with carriers made of the lightest mountain metal, and the softest dragon leather buckled around their bellies. Their rider guides them with delicate silver chains fastened to a broad silver plate that covers the crown of their head. Some carry supplies; others carry our Elders, young children and those with child.

I march with my brothers and sisters. We are not of blood, but our bond is stronger. The training of the Northern Armies of the Fae is not for the faint of heart. We’re chosen by our elders for our ability to fly and unseen gifts. Some can play with fire, others commune with animals or wield dream magic. As we strengthen our mind, and the connection of our bodies to Thalia, our powers emerge.

I’m still waiting for that power to awaken in me. The Elders assure me it will happen, any day now, but I am well past the age of the majority. There’s not even been a flicker of a flame from my fingertips.

My best friend Decorah, who came to her powers when she was just fifteen, encourages me that one day it will happen just like it did for her: she sneezed and out popped a cloud of smoke and a burp of flame. As it is, I’m a trained warrior with no power. I trust it lies sleeping inside but I hope it wakes up soon so I can finally be worthy of my place among my people.

Our lands lie to the north, high in the mountain plains. When the last bird leaves, we know it’s time to gather our things and migrate to the valleys. They won’t be much warmer, but there will be some food, it’s less abundant than any time in our remembered history. Rationing is causing fractures amongst the Fae, rogues plague us, picking off animals and Fae alike. That’s why the Army is needed. Our special gifts used to help people with daily life, now we have to protect our people with them.

There’s a twitch and a scratch against my chest. Mika billows smoke into the air as she pokes her head out of my cloak, making quite the emergence. She yawns, nuzzling my neck. ‘Thea,’ she croons, ‘how much longer do we have to journey for?’

‘Only two more moons, dear one.’ She retreats to the warmth of my cloak. I tickle the soft scales of her belly through the fabric as she wriggles around my torso.

Mika is a bandwight dragon, pure white like the tragar, but with little specks of green that make the most beautiful patterns on their underbellies. Hers are just like the night sky, complete with a thin sliver of a moon nestled under her heart.

I’m glad dragons are allowed in the valleys now if they’re not old enough to be left behind. I couldn’t have left Mika. She only hatched two weeks ago, after I waited four gruelling months in the choking heat of the volcanic springs. It is not a place any Fae should be for that long.

My brothers and sisters were all out within two weeks, but not me. Oh no, nothing would ever be that simple for me. Mika was the very last egg, and most thought she wouldn’t hatch. As the moon continued to wax and wane, Decorah and the others urged me to leave the egg behind and begin the journey to the valleys but I ignored them, determined she would make it and I would have my dragon. I sang her songs, and willed her to get strong, and eventually she wriggled her way into my sighing arms. Now, here we are, the last of the army marching to the valleys at Thalia’s heart.

******

My cloak flaps violently as the wind stirs, the white fabric whipping my pearlescent armour. The metal is embossed with silver webs of vines and leaves that weave their way to the dagger sleeping at my hip. My ears prick up, sensing something.

A crashing sound pulls my attention to the right. A huge boulder is avalanching down the hill, straight towards a tragar carrying the Elders. “Thea, Gravin and Tanok get the Elders to safety!’’ yells Decorah as she, Devlin and the others spread their wings and soar into the skies to scout for rogues hiding in the mist.

Our wings move swiftly. ‘Tanok, you grab the neck, Gravin you get the feet and I’ll go under the belly,’ I shout, my voice barely audible under the rumbling wave of rocks and snow crashing towards us. Nevertheless they fall quickly into position. We heave the tragar off the ground, and it groans under the strain, thrashing. Gravin slips, the weight pulling him down first, then all of us. The world goes quiet for a second, a pause before the chaos of red rocks stampedes over us.

I feel Mika on my face, nudging and pleading with me to wake up. My eyes sting and ears ring. I groan as I sit up, choking and gasping as gravel dances in my lungs. My tongue lies thick in my mouth, blood and dirt matted together. I roll it against the roof of my mouth, finding just enough moisture to whisper out to anyone nearby. Silence.

As my eyes adjust to the light, the lifeless limbs scattered like fallen leaves emerge from the darkness. How much time has passed? I see the others still circling and fighting high above, a rogue attack.

There’s a distant glow of an Elder crystal beneath the snow. I stagger over, hands clawing with what energy I have to get through the rubble to the one wearing it. Finally Elder Laerke gasps for air as I free his face, relief flooding his features as he realises it's me.

I go to soothe him but he silences me with a stern look, beckoning me to listen. I clumsily bring my ear to his mouth. As his words swirl around my ears, my body stiffens and my heart throbs.

You are the one legend foresaw Breathing love and light into Thalia’s core Seek the moon temple on the blood red road Take my crystal, it reveals all you need to know Follow the mystery so it can be so

He breathes one last time, his essence seeping back into Thalia before a question could even form in my mind, let alone leave my lips. What did that mean? Shock and exhaustion clutches me in its grips, and I collapse to the ground. I can hear Mika’s sobs ringing out before I’m thrust yet again into darkness.