The Silver Child

THE BROKEN WOODS

The gusts of winds that came randomly and without warning were intense. An immediate, displeasing sound of the needle leaves within the Broken Woods followed with a matching roar from the shadowed creature in the sky. There was no subtleness in its arrival.

The winds settled down as the flaps of the silver dragon's wings leveled its speed and cleared the hard ash trees until stabling its landing on the grounds of the Broken Woods. Even a dragon couldn’t refrain from the effects of stepping within the woods, so if this dragon chose to do such a thing, it was out of desperacy.

Ainamor saw the toddler, lying in a fetal position, bare and boned. His hair was white as the ash that covered the ground and his skin was paler than the dust in the sky. With the way his bones stuck out, stretching that fragile child-like skin, from a distance he could have been mistaken for a newborn dragon. Staring over the toddler now, no older than a few red moons passing, Ainamor wondered what this meant for him- the boy- and for itself, Ainamor. It had been exactly one-hundred and one years, and no silver child was known to have survived the silver age. But now, right before its very eyes, one remained.

Ainamor could tell the boy was on his final lifeline, but alive he was. It couldn’t believe that there, in the depths of the Broken Woods of the Reverie, during the Zeus’ Bronze age, a silver child was sleeping.

Suddenly the boy shifted its body, its caved- in-chest that revealed every rib, puffed out and back in, proving the very life that should not have been. Shifting its own body with uncertainty, Ainamor heard the rattle of the broken chain connected to its left ankle, being reminded of the purpose of entering the Broken Woods in the first place.

Knowing time was critical, Ainamor lifted its head, created a flare from its nostrils and blew exactly seven balls of fire into the air, shooting up like bullets and exploding into the constellation cloud brighter than any shooting star.

It was done. The stories were true. The last silver child was alive, and all would know in due time. Ainmaore shook its head aggressively, knowing well the threat this world would have to choose to hide, or face.

…

THE REVERIE

There was a new placing of the stars by the gods of Olympus, in-between the heavens and at the corner of the furthest constellation. The gods called this unique constellation the Reverie, a dreamworld for humans to walk among their dreams. The humans would call the same world a state of lucid dreaming, one in which they could never know was as real as the very constellations they saw in the sky every night before they laid their head down to sleep. Each god, out of fairness to each immortal, was allowed one old soul, a soul from the real world, or mortal world, to rule their dreamworld since gods and humans did not coexist. The old souls would be the dreamers, a being with the soul of a mortal and who lived within the dust of the god’s work.

The dreamworld was beautiful, no less beautiful than a dreamer’s best dream and a god’s realm. The Reverie was separated by the infinity line. The infinity line in the Reverie was the very frequency that kept the world alive. It’s given point oriented at a specific angle and extended to infinity in both east and west of the constellation, the given point called the Fray. The Fray was the only point in which stardust, or a mortal soul, could pass through. The Ollopa train ran along the infinity line, allowing those who entered to choose its destination. Upon the Ollopa train, or compilation of metal and particles of rock and mistaken for a shooting star, were the ones whose souls were lost. They stayed in the in-between, until fate met them- fate that meant a time of endless living, or dying.

The untold Brine was the home of the Plastrof, a shell of the Plaas in the Brine, untold because none knew where the water started and water ended. The only one known to be in existence, the Plaas left it there, near the Fray, where one could go between worlds, for the purpose of ‘guarding’ something. The Brine consumed rain drops that couldn’t be seen by the naked eye but as it hit the water’s surface, created spiral like droplets of an unbroken flow.

The Motif River led into the Brine and ran parallel to the edge of the Broken Woods. These woods were alive, every needle leaf falling from the six-foot-wide ash trees with black mushroom tops that covered every speck of dust in the constellation cloud. The Motif River was the only set creation that connected the Elphiates to the rest of the Reverie. The river ended at the edge of the horizon of the Reverie, where the Red Moon sat so prominently, and darkened by the day as dust clouded the air. Human dust was not welcome in the Reverie and piled up at the Elphiates.

At the edge of the Red Moon, one could enter the Elphiates. To enter, one must pass the gate into the Brine. The steps led into the water, every step deepening down. If one could trust this world, the waters would part, and one could pass through the gates. The path would become cobblestone, uneven, with clay in between the cracks. Clay stemmed from Prometheus as he made man from clay. The parted waters lead into a tunnel, where moths only ate decayed man. The moths ate the flesh of the dreamless, the ones whose souls could not survive outside the real world – their flesh being stripped from their bones, leaving only their dust. If a dreamer passed the tunnel of moths and over the clay of human flesh, they were allowed to enter an archway, and thus step into the grounds of the Elphiates.

…

MANY RED MOONS PASSED

THE ELPHIATES

The silver child ran through the archway, the blue flames alive and sparking high as he passed. The iron, ivory and vines with smoky air within the caved castle was no concern to the boy. He heard the fast flapping of wings chasing him around the corner, so he sped up, having lived here long enough now to know the cracks and crevices of the Elphiates tower.

“Let them find me…” He whispered with a sly smile.

He took two rights, a hard left, and another quick right, then turned around back the opposite way in order to trick them, knowing that a dragon's nose was its best sense for tracking. The walls were too dark for the dragons to see through clearly, their sight typically being able to see miles away. He always lost the game, so this time he entered the room that he knew they would never think he would step in. Why… because he was forbidden. He would only pass through, as it was a quicker way to the throne room where he could hide behind the spikes and wings of the throne itself.

He shut the iron dragon carved door, the red eyes of the head of the door staring hard at him like he was being watched. There was no watching. He was so far deep in the tower that not even the Lyson would be able to find him now, and as long as Ainamor didn’t find out, neither would the dragons chasing him. It was a game, so what was the harm in entering the room of locks?

His backbones sticking out against the cold iron door, now on the other side and away from the archway, he could hear the flapping of the wings so swiftly flying by. He loved the whooshing noise of a dragon's wings. To hear them speeding by, the speed of their flight fascinated Steelle. He loved it all; the race, the pace, and the challenge of beating the infant dragons as he was only a child. He grew up with them, through many passing moons and they were family. Family of dragons, Steelle smiled as he made his way through the room of locks. An unusual family, since he was the only being, except for the weird, short Lyson that seemed to always linger and do whatever the dragons told him to do, but a family they still all were.

His eyes adjusting to the vast brightness of man sized gold locks above him, Steelle suddenly realized that he had never known what the Room of Locks were. He looked up and saw them hanging from silver chains, at different lengths and spread out among the entire cave like room. He could see there were teardrop cages attached to the gold locks, but not what was inside them, if anything. No one ever told him what was in the room, only said it was forbidden, like he was too young to understand.

“Oh please.” Steelle scoffed, now talking to himself.

He was allowed to see the tombs outside the Elphiates grounds to confirm those who became dreamless in the dreamworld which sounded dark, so what could be so bad about the room of locks? Loving to spy, he even overheard about the dreamless walking forever among the Outwards. He learned recently when he spied on Ainamor and the Lyson talking in private about how there were more dreamless than ever before. Steelle couldn’t hear exactly why they had to walk forever, which sounded like pure torcher, but also the red moon was getting darker. It was a different age, they kept saying. What did that even mean?

Suddenly, he heard a more aggressive rattle above him, and a whisper. Or at least Steelle thought it was a whisper. It was so faint and it was coming from above him. Then he heard it again.

“Help…”

Steelle followed the same whispering words repeating every so often, until he reached one particularly lower gold lock deep within the room. This particular teardrop cage was low enough now that he could walk up to it. It was separate farther from the rest, but there were stepping stones leading up it, as if inviting him to see what was inside, or rather, who was inside.

“Hello…” Steelle said quietly. He was unsure of the room and who else could be listening. For a moment, he thought he was going crazy. No one answered, and the gold lock blocked enough of the teardrop cage that he couldn’t see inside clearly. He didn’t see anything, or hear anything more. But just as he started to turn and continue his game of chase, he heard someone speak. It was faint, but he heard it still.

“I sensed you.” The faint voice said, through the cage. Steelle couldn’t see who was speaking, but he could tell it was a girl's voice.

“Come out from the dark. Let me see you.” Steelle finally said, choosing his words carefully. He wanted to see her before saying more. He didn’t know who it could be, or why she was locked up in the room of locks.

There was a long pause, then finally out of the dark and into the shy sliver of light that bounced off the locks golden armor, a young girl, not older than he stepped out. Her hair was dark and long. Her skin was pale as snow and her eyes were sad. Her eyes were down, then slowly lifted and as they did, Steele had to hold his breath. She was unlike anything he had ever seen. He knew of dragons and the Laison. But to see another being, with a body like his own, Steelle didn’t know what to think. Could she be another silver child?

“Are you…” He started. He knew this world could be filled with contorted thoughts, thoughts being all they had. Maybe he was just seeing this. How was it that there was another child here when he was told he was the last one? Could Ainamor know about this? Surely not.

“A child of the gods play. Of course. And you are of which age?” The girl finally said, her voice soft and

“I am many red moons passed.” Steelle said, and the girl gave a quick giggle. He was mesmerized by her. All of her. The way she moved her body so subtly, the way her hair swayed as she started to pace back and forth, and the way her lips curled into a sliver of a smile when her eyes met his. Having only been around dragons, he wondered what it was that could have kept him from her when she was here all along.

“No, silly. Are you also from the silver age? One of the children who played in Zeus’ reign?” She asked again.

Zeus. Steelle had heard of that god, or rather, the god. It was the only thing that Ainamor seemed to fear. He had never met Zeus, nor seemed to really want to, but he knew that was not possible anyway. The gods' world was beyond this constellation. The dreamworld was where he lived, and the gods in Olympus.

“I was told this was no longer the silver age.” Steelle explained.

“You are right. That is what makes you all that more special.” She gave a sly smile again and Steelle felt his heart quicken its beat.

“Who are you?” He finally said hoping she wouldn’t be able to notice his change in heartbeat.

“I am a child, just like you.” She said quietly. He knew it. He knew she was something like his very own making. It suddenly got quiet, and they both stared at each other as if deciphering exactly who each of them were, or could be. How they could be the same, and yet clearly so different.

“What age are you from?” Steelle tried to clarify.

“What is your name?” She asked instead.

“I am Steelle.”

“I am Hazel.”

“Why are you in here?” There was another long pause.

“The real question is, why are you not in here?” Hazel said, animosity in her voice this time. Steelle wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but before he could ask her, he heard the door shut that mimicked the same door closing that he had shut to hide from the dragons. He then heard wings flapping.

Panicked, Steelle turned and stepped back abruptly from the gold lock of which the girl was. Eyeing it one more time, he noticed she had already disappeared back into the darkness. Taking one more step, not realizing how close to the edge he was, suddenly he felt the tightness in his stomach as his food stepped back into the open air, causing him freefall.

Letting out a silent scream, he closed his eyes, and let himself feel fear for the first time.

“Ainamor.” Steelle cried out in panic, knowing that the winged dragon would hear him and not knowing what else to do. It always heard him, from the day it found him in the forest. Then just as quickly as he fell, and before he could consume the entirety of the reaction his body was going through as he fell, his body hit a hard, scaled surface mid air.

Ainamor finally let him down off its scaled back, but not until they had not only cleared the lock room, but entirely left the Elphiates and entered the Fray. Even Steelle knew that only dragons or those upon the Ollopa train could enter the Fray directly as it was only reachable by air. Realizing what he had done out of this fear, Steelle looked down. This was not good.

“What have you done, my silver child?” Ainamor said the dragon's eyes were lower than even Steelles' own as he looked down at the dragon's feet.

“I didn’t know what to do. I panicked.” Steelle said in a whisper. He took a step forward, toward Ainamor, but the dragon only stepped back.

“I told you to never ride on my back. To never ride a dragon's back.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Steele started.

“You must leave this world. A silver child cannot survive a god's world passed 100 years. If Zeus were to find out, which he will, he will use you.”

“Use me how?”

“As a weapon. A final weapon to destroy the human world.”

“But how does he know?”

“You lived among the dragons in the Elphiates, the hell of the dreamworld, but now you chose to ride one.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch me.” Steelle whispered. Anger filled, Ainamor threw its head up and roared so loud the whole floor shook. The dust around them scattered, and flares from its nostrils took its place.

“By calling me to save you, you trusted this world to protect you. You chose this world, and yet this world did not choose you.”

“But…”

“I could not let you fall. I could not let you die.”

“There is a reason you are different from the dreamers. You were a human child among the 100 years of Zeus’s silver age, and yet that age has passed. Humans and gods now only know war and hate. You will see the red moon turn to blood and the silver light of this world turn a luster gold. We are now in the Zeus bronze age. The Broken woods are from speared, ash trees of human bones once their souls enter the underworld.

“You now have to choose, silver child. One last time.”

“Choose what?”

“You may enter the Fray and go blind to the human world. There you may grow up among the mortals, this world only being but a dream. Or you may become the final blessed spirit of the underworld of the silver age, with red eyes as you hid too long from the underworld.”

“Red eyes?”

“You were not supposed to see the days of the bronze age either. See the weakness of humans, the hatred between gods and mortals like. You will be feared by all dreamers among this world.” Ainamor said quietly, the winged dragons voice hoarse. Steelle felt empty inside. The dragons were his home, and now his home was being taken from him, ball because of his own doing. Or rather his curiosity of the unknown, and another child…

Steele could see the Ollopa train looping around them in the ever continuous infinity line, swooshing by faster than any shooting star in the constellation sky. The constellation sky was the only thing he knew was the same sight between dreamers, gods and humans.

“It is my fault, silver child. I thought I could protect you. I knew you knew we dragons existed, but I did not think a child could kill a dragon.”

“Kill?”

“You are a human, still, no matter what world you live in, Steelle.” Ainamor started. This was the first time since the day the winged dragon had found him in the Broken Woods six years ago. And now this would be the last time Ainamor would say his given name.

“You have a soul, bones and made of human dust. I am made from this world, this dream world. I am from the god's world, a winged dragon of the sun god to protect this world.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Silver child, when you rode my back, you chose me. When I found you in the Broken Woods, I chose you. Therefore, we are now one and the same. But a human does not live as long as a dragon. And not that we are one, one cannot live without the other.” Steelle could feel the heaviness between both of them.

“So what should I do?”

“That I cannot choose for you. But you have until the Ollopa train comes back to the Fray to choose.” There was a long pause, and they both watched as the chariot started looping back again.

“Time is not your friend. The human world cannot live being threatened with a weapon as great as Zeus’ control of you. Humans deserve to live in their world just as gods do in the heavens, and just as dreamers do here in the dreamworld. To take a life is not of anyone's choice but their own.”

“But I took your life.” Steelle said, holding back tears. He was tough, but he was still only a child. Or so he thought.

“Yes.” Ainamor said with a heated breath.

“But you have also given me time to see the good of humans. And I would have saved you again and again. I just wish our time here would have been longer. For both our sakes.” The winged dragon said, then flared its nostrils again. The Ollopa train was getting closer.

“It is time now to say goodbye.”

Steelle stared in the eyes of the winged dragon that had taken him in after all the many red moons passed. He had no recollection of who he was before or how he had gotten here, but he knew who sacrificed everything for him.

“Can I ask you one question?”

“Of course.” Ainamor obliged with a simple nod.

“Who was that girl, in the gold locks?” Steelle asked, and by the way Ainamor met his eyes, Steelle knew the winged dragon was only waiting for him to ask.

“Hazel you mean. She is from another age. An age that will only come to affect you by the next choice you make. That is all I can say.”

There was another long pause, but Steelle could feel the tension building. Steelle stepped forward, watching as the break in the infinity line at the center of the Fray started to show. It was here, the silver child would have to choose its fate. Closing his eyes, something came to mind. He turned back around and looked one last time at Ainamor.

“I am sorry, Ainamor.”

“I am not, silver child.”

At that, Steelle turned back around to see the exact meeting of the Ollopa train and the Fray. He closed his eyes again, seeing both white and red. He took a step forward, trusting the world in which he was leaving and choosing the world in which he feared to choose.

…

There was a sudden spark, a flash of white; a flash of red and the creature appeared. Monstrous and powered hungry, he was starved by the place he was once only moments before. The red eyes shadowed the true identity of the brood sitting among the home of immortal darkness. He caressed himself, for the first time in what seemed like ages, being able to be of an existence once more, his own body. He felt a jolt, as he flashed away once again, then suddenly appeared once more, a thick tug toward his eyes, unsure of the nature behind this pull. It wasn't guaranteed, or certain, that he was complete once more. He felt the scales upon his skin momentarily rise, and then it was gone. He flickered once more, then he was gone.