Child of the Dragon Prophecy

by Effie Joe Stock

  The air screamed around her, pain raced through her mind. The image quickly became cracked, as if somehow ruined. Black shards shattered across the image. The air turned dark, rank. The man turned, but he had no face. A dark hole was where his head should have been. Cold surrounded her. The darkness of the face engulfed her.

  Stephania’s eyes violently snapped open as she gasped for air, her body shaking uncontrollably. A cold sweat suddenly chilled her, and she slid to the ground, her chest struggling to find air. She wrapped her arms around herself, ignoring the tears that streamed down her cheeks and soaked the collar of her dress. She could barely see the piano through the ocean in her eyes. Nothing had changed. It was still just a piano sitting in her bedroom corner.

  She buried her face in the bed, letting her tears overcome her. Daily she had these nightmares and strange visions, but they never got any better. In fact, the older she got, the more horrifying and real they became. Some had once been sweet hallucinations; now they were nightmares that left her struggling to find reality. When she was younger, Dalton had tried all kinds of herbs to stop the visions, but they had never worked. Eventually, she had lied to him that they did work just so she wouldn’t have to deal with the panic, worry, and pain that perpetually gripped her guardian when he knew of her hallucinations.

  The suns began to hang low in the sky, seeming to have stopped in their daily journey. She wiped her eyes and stood up, trying to pull herself back together. Still shivering, she pulled a blanket around her thin shoulders, busying herself with reorganizing her packed saddle bag before tossing it beside her door alongside her bow and arrows.

  Her sword was in its usual place downstairs. She would pick it up on her way out in the morning.

  Lying back down on her bed, not bothering to change into sleeping wear, Stephania closed her eyes and let the silence overcome her. Sometimes, if she was still enough, she could almost remember her parents, could almost see their faces, but the memories always faded before she could grasp a hold of them.

  Grumbling, she turned over and propped herself up on her elbow. She stared out of her east-facing window. The setting suns were bathing the land in their golden rays, changing all the colors from brilliant shades of green and blue to bright shining gold, with the clouds deep red, orange, pink, and purple.

  Sighing, she let the beauty calm her and entrance her. She knew Dalton was right. If she was going to leave early tomorrow, then she had better get some sleep.

  After a while of studying nature’s beauty, she reluctantly crawled off her bed and changed into her night clothes. She snuggled back under the thick fur covers. Tired and sore from the day’s sword fighting, she succumbed quickly to slumber, though her dreams were shadowed by faceless people and sour notes from a singing piano.

  Chapter 18

  Dalton’s Home

  Nearly 12 Years earlier

  Uncle Dalton!”

  Dalton’s warm, brown eyes snapped open. Darkness welcomed him. Not even the moon was shining tonight. He listened. His room was unusually silent. Not even the usual cricket was playing its song.

  “Uncle Dalton!”

  His covers decorated the floor as he abandoned his bed and ran down the hall. Stephania’s bedroom door banged open, and he rushed to the side of her bed.

  “Stephania, Stephania, what’s wrong, child?” He quickly pulled her to him.

  Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her warm tears adorned his shoulder.

  “I had a bad dream.” Her sobs echoed heartbreakingly in the dark room.

  “Oh, my child.” His arms tightened around her. “It’s alright now. You’re alright. What happened?”

  She choked on her tears. “There was … there was a big purple lizard. And it—it killed a bunch of little people and … and …”

  “It’s alright, you don’t have to talk about it—”

  She pulled away from him, her little hands tightly squeezed his broad shoulders, his shirt gripped in her small fingers.

  “It said it was coming for me. It said that …” She hiccupped. “It said that it would find me!” She screamed and sobbed, burying her small face once more in his chest.

  His heart lurched. Bile rose to the back of his throat. A big, purple lizard … that could only be one creature … Fear grappled with him. He sensed for the girl’s magic. Nothing. She had nothing that Thaddeus could find her with. She remembered naught of who she was. The magic still slumbered in her.

  He sighed, his shoulders sinking. His hand slowly ran through her tangled, soft hair, and he let her cry onto him. As much as he hated it, Artigal’s spell was working. Stephania would be safe.

  “It’s alright, Stephania. It was only a dream.”

  “Don’t let it get me, Uncle Dalton. Don’t let it find me.” She hiccupped again, snuggling her face against his warm chest.

  “I won’t Stephania, I promise. I won’t let him find you. You are safe here, with me.”

  He opened his mouth to sing, but something stopped him. Andromeda … Tears rose in his eyes; in the darkness, he let them fall. I suppose you would have sang it to her … I will too. For you, my rilar.

  “Sleep my child, just close your eyes.” He swallowed his tears and pushed back the memories.

  “And wait for the morning of the suns’ rise. A light will come and lead your life, and wash you from your strife.” He stopped wondering if he would be able to continue.

  The seconds dragged on.

  “Keep singing.” Stephania’s muffled, sleepy voice could barely be heard. “Please.”

  A sad smile raised his lips. “Of course, Stephania.”

  He cleared his throat and bit his lip. “Um … always now in dark and fear, we will know that He is near.”

  He felt her fall asleep against him, and he laid her back under her covers, tucking the furs around her. He pressed his lips to her soft forehead.

  “So, sleep, my child, just close your eyes, and wait for that morning of the suns’ rise.”

  Chapter 19

  Present Day

  Stephania jerked awake, panting, sweat running down her face. The sheets stuck claustrophobically to her clammy skin. It was pitch dark out. Her imagination formed shapes out of the darkness. Her breath fast in her chest, she rubbed her eyes and jumped out of bed, pacing back and forth, pushing the shadows out of her mind. She had that nightmare again. It was the same every time—dragons, half-horse half-human creatures, and black, mutilated animals.

  She rubbed her shoulders, unexplainably chill, her blood pounding in her ears. A ringing noise in her ears filled the silent, cool air.

  Why? Why do I keep having this nightmare? What does it mean?

  Perhaps it was all the things Dalton was pouring into her brain, or perhaps it was memory.

  She violently shook her head. “No, no, no. Impossible. That’s never happened and never could happen. None of that exists.”

  Disturbed, but now more curious than frightened, she was about to crawl back into bed when she remembered that she was supposed to be leaving this morning.

  A broad grin swept across her face. She pumped her fist and danced around for a few minutes in sheer excitement and glee.

  For one glorious week, she would be able to ignore the ridiculous corsets, dresses, rules, and mockery of the city. She would be able to do whatever she wanted, regardless of what anyone thought.

  Dressed in a matter of seconds, not ever bothering to run a brush through her wild, curly hair, she grabbed her pack and quietly tiptoed down the hall. Masterfully, she danced down the stairs making sure to not step on a single creaky board lest she wake Dalton. She was still convinced that he would try to stop her. Ready to sprint to the door without having to say goodbye, she came to a grinding stop.

  One of the living room candles suddenly lit aflame. Dalton was relaxed across one of the couches, fully dressed, a mug of warm drink at his side, and that same old map in his hand.

  “Good morning, Stephania.” he drawled out absentmin
dedly, his eyes barely flickering up from the map, a curious twinkle in them. His voice was bright, as if he had already been awake for a while.

  She frowned in confusion. What was he doing up so early? And what was with that map?

  Flicking her hair off her shoulders, unable to hide her excitement, she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “Good morning, Uncle Dalton.” Remembering her sword, she abandoned all stealth and bounded loudly through the house to the blacksmith room.

  “I already have your horse, Braken, saddled up for you,” Dalton called after her and took a sip of his drink, a satisfied sigh parting his lips.

  Her mind and her feet came to a screeching stop but only for a second. He was really helping her leave. “Thanks!” she shouted over her shoulder before adding under her breath, “I guess.”

  Finding her sword, she lovingly clipped it to her belt before heading to the kitchen to grab a snack. Anxiously, she searched the kitchen until she found a chunk of bread from the night before. She took a few quick bites before stuffing the rest in her pocket.

  Hurrying over to Dalton, she awkwardly paused and shifted her weight uncomfortably, knowing she should say something. She struggled with how she should act around him. Should she let her guard down? Be vulnerable? Or was it better to stay hidden behind her coldhearted mask of indifference? She was sure Dalton saw right through her act, but if so, why didn’t he say anything? Did he just not care?

  She twirled a lock of curly hair around her finger, took a deep breath and banished the turmoil from her mind. It wasn’t like he was kicking her out. He was actually being very helpful. “Thank you, Uncle Dalton. I guess I’ll see you in a bit. Or really more like a week.” A rare, sheepish smile spread across her face, dimpling her cheeks. She looked up from the loose string in her pants she had been toying with.

  He glanced up from his book, a strange expression on his face but an unmistakably elated twinkle in his eyes. “Of course. It’s my pleasure to help you, Stephania, you know that. And, good luck, I shall say. I love you.”

  A warm feeling rose within her. “I love you too.” She turned to the door.

  “Oh, and Stephania.”

  The unusual note in his voice called her back.

  “Don’t do anything stupid once you figure it out. Okay?”

  Once again, her mind drew a blank. Uh, what? Since when does Dalton tell me not to do anything stupid? Not when I challenge Jackson to fight, oh no. But when I take a trip out into the woods? Gods of all, he’s frustrating sometimes. She knew just as well as him that she was head-strong and impulsive, but why would he remind her now?

  “Okay, yeah, sure, whatever.” Shaking her head, his words ringing in her mind, she quietly closed the door behind her. Knowing she would be haunted by his words and would overthink their hidden meaning, she forced them out of her mind as soon as possible and took a deep breath of the moist, cold night air.

  Nothing but clear, open sky stretched above her, and she took a moment to appreciate it. The stars were bright, and the moon was barely a sliver on the edge of the night sky. Not even the suns’ rays had pierced the sky yet. It was just her and the secrets of the night.

  When she reached the barn, she found that just as Dalton had said, her buckskin stallion, Braken, was already saddled up and ready to go. One of his saddles packs had even been filled with enough rations for a week.

  Gratitude filling her, and wishing she had done more to thank Dalton, she sighed before quickly loading her packs onto the horse’s broad, sleek back. Perhaps she would make something for Dalton; she wasn’t sure what, but something. Her mind drifted for a second, thinking back to his words or warning. Braken’s whinny and impatient stamp brought her back to the present.

  “You’re right, boy. No more riddles, at least, not for a week.” Her fingers trailed through his soft mane, feeling the ridges and ripples in his muscles and the sleekness of his hair. “Nothing but silence, peace, and truth, eh?”

  As if he could understand her, the stallion whinnied and bobbed his head, nudging her chest.

  “No, no treats, you big pig.”

  He dutifully snorted in her face.

  She rolled her eyes. “I bet you could out-eat a dragon.” Unable to help herself, she gave him a sugar cube and laughed as he fairly inhaled it. While he crunched loudly on the treat, she whispered in his ear where they were going and why. She knew he couldn’t understand her, but sometimes she felt that, somehow, he could.

  She led him out of the barn, careful to lock the door behind her, knowing Dalton would have her hide if she didn’t. She quickly mounted the buckskin and once more breathed in the night air, her eyes closed. Her face tilted to the sky, letting the moon bathe her in blue light. She could feel Braken’s breath under her, the life in his body, the pumping of his heart as he snorted, stamping the ground, anticipating the thrill of the ride. She swelled with pride at how unique he was, smiling fondly at the day she got him.

  Not sure of where to go, she pointed the stallion in a general direction toward the forest that the townspeople were afraid of and spurred the horse into a gallop. Streaking across the valley, Stephania felt that she was finally free, and as the ground rushed beneath her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was flying, and that just felt so right.

  §

  It was nearly four days since Stephania left on her expedition, but she had hardly spent a single one of those days working on her lyre. She had easily gotten distracted by all of the unique plants and animals this forest protected. They were different than the other forests around New-Fars. She had quickly lost track of time and still had yet to find a sturdy branch with which to make her lyre. She was becoming discouraged. Of course nothing would be wrong with using a young, bendable limb, but she had hoped for something a little more majestic.

  Experiencing the odd sensation that she had been walking in circles, she tied Braken to a tree and plopped down on a rock, supporting her head between her hands, surveying the woods around her.

  When she had entered these “cursed” woods, they had seemed just like a normal forest. However, the deeper into the forest she ventured, the stranger it grew. The trees grew closer together but never lost their age nor size. In fact, it seemed that the trees here were even bigger and older than the ones closer to the village. They stopped growing as straight too. Warps in the trunks began to look like faces and bodies if stared at long enough, and she even thought that sometimes she could make out words as the wind whispered through the leaves and branches. One night, when she had been drifting to sleep, she swore she even heard drums in the distance, but not any normal drums from the human villages. They were wild, almost animalistic. Along with the steady pounding of drums, a flute or pan pipe had whistled mystically and odd voices weaved in and out of the wild, frightening, chaotic music. She remembered folk lore speaking of a horrible force that once came out of this forest and destroyed New-Fars long ago. She was beginning to wonder if there was more to it than just myth.

  Though she felt uneasy in the odd forest, instead of being scared back to the village, she felt entranced, as if it were calling to her.

  Forcing herself not to stare at the haunting trees any longer, she pulled herself back to her feet, stretching to wake up her arms and legs.

  “Gods of all, this is harder than I thought. I just wish I could find a good branch already!” Her words echoed strangely in the forest. The wind whispered in her ear as if responding to her. She narrowed her eyes challengingly at the still woods. Nothing moved. It seemed even the wind had stopped. An unusual bird song rang out for a few seconds before fading into the silence. Braken stamped his hoof in unease.

  Almost in a trance, Stephania took a few steps forward. She thought she could see something in the forest in front of her—movement or a shadow. A voice called to her, whispered to her, beckoned to her. Braken whinnied, and she reached out absentmindedly to calm him. The horse instantly fell silent and stood perfectly still, as if understanding her need for silen
ce.

  She squinted, peering into the dark forest. By the gods, it got dark fast. In the abnormal shadows, she could barely make out the trees around her. In fact, it seemed that the trees were shifting, but perhaps it was only the shadows playing tricks on her.

  Just when she was ready to turn around and get as far away from here as possible, something stepped out into the woods in front of her.

  It looked like a man, a short man, the top of his curly hair coming up to about her neck. Two large yellow eyes stared at her, almost glowing with their own light, their black pupils small rectangles instead of circles.

  She cocked her head, transfixed by the mesmerizing, sparkling eyes, her mouth open in shock.

  It was too dark to make out a definite shape of his body, shrouded as it was by brush, but something about the way he stood seemed much different than it should have been.

  Slowly, she neared, but stopped when she was still a few feet from him.

  She could just barely make out his teeth, stark white against his dark skin, as he smiled gently, reaching out his hand to beckon her.

  She stepped closer.

  “Stephania. So you have finally come into the forest. I have been waiting for you for a long time.” His voice was musical, magical even. It rang in the air like a crisply plucked string, the sound golden, warm, but also dangerous. She felt like she had heard this strange type of voice before, but a fog covered her mind. “Your awakening nears.” His accent was thick and very hard to understand. “The forest has slept for a long time, but we are ready to be awoken as well.”

  He looked down at his side, and gently, almost as if it took no effort for him to move, he reached for something on his belt. A bright, glowing green jewel hung around his neck on a thick chain. Its strange symbols seemed somehow familiar, but her mind was slow and foggy, and she was unable to recall where she might have seen them before.