Page 21 of Season Warriors & Wolves

My eyes widened with fascination, and I drew my dagger back to its sheath. Four centuries since they were thought gone. The one Dyurin blessed creature that had struggled to survive within our small human world. Tales and old words told dragons not to be of any godly realms, but instead of another human pane. Some said that they had crawled behind their masters and snuck in Numen, and as punishment, their masters had not allowed them back. The dragon’s skin flashed a pearlescent coral when it leaned its face closer to me. “Look at you. Aren’t you beautiful.”

The creature sniffed the air, lowering its nostrils near me, flashing claws and teeth that were the size of my body. When it didn’t make any more of a reaction than growl at me, I carefully stepped forward, reaching a hand toward it.

“Nice dragon,” I cooed. “Pretty dragon. Polite dragon.” I stumbled back, dropping to the ground when it growled again, sniffling, and breathing hard. I stood and dusted my clothes. “Yeah, I don't like to be touched either.”

The dragon huffed in response, curling into itself and closing its eyes.

I blinked. “Wait a damn minute. Where is the bloody sceptre?”

Its eyes opened and again, then its head pointed to the floor under us.

“Very good dragon. Under?”

A huff.

“I take that as a yes.”

I got to my knees and brushed the thick layer of dust with my gloved hand to reveal aquamarine mosaic tiles. Considering the massive space, this would take me all day.

“Hey,” I whispered. Why was I whispering? “Hey!”

The dragon opened its eyes again, looking all mad at me.

I pointed at the floor. “A bit of help? Nice dragon helps the very nice guardian, eh?” The thing didn’t budge. Then it breathed out a cloud of fire that almost turned me into a skewered guardian. The dust caught fire almost like lint, flying about and fizzling out in the air to disappear into nothing.

My mouth went slack at what laid below the layer of time. Carefully, I stepped back to the furthest corner of the room, inspecting the painting the mosaic tiles formed.

A map of sorts. And in its middle stood a circle that faintly resembled a craft halo which instead of runes, had star constellations. Eight of them. All the ones I knew by heart. Except that there were not just simple constellations. They lined perfectly to match the ultimate perfect tale.

Impossible.

It had to be.

“My snowflake,” my mother whispered, crawling under my blanket where I had been hiding for the past hour. “One should always be able to see the stars. How can you see the stars under here?”

“I don’t like them. I hate the stars, ma.”

“They would be so upset to hear that. Do you know they all have names? My best friend taught me all of them. She used to say that if you one night happen to see them all at the same time, the gates to all heavens would open for you,” she said, luring me out of my hiding. Her eyes fell to the bruises on my face and her gaze glistened like the night sky, but so much prettier. “Do you…do you want to see if we can find them too? Perhaps we will be lucky and they will welcome us.”

“Would they allow me, too?”

“Why would they not?”

“Because I am useless. To papa, to you, to Eren and Thora. To everyone.”

“You are so precious, my snowflake. To much more than just this one cruel world.”

Ales. Sidus. Letum. Lumen. Tellus. Levis. Nix. Eurus. All eight constellations that framed the eight prime heavens.

A gate. Not just any heaven.

All of them—all that was in between, around and about them.

Beyond them, too. Realms upon realms that resided amongst, along, parallel and beyond our own. Wherever you wished—the gates would take you there. So had my mother said.

It had to be a lie. A tale. My mother had told me tales.

But then my mother had also lied to me too many times to count.