Page 113 of Within the Veil

He pauses, reminiscing. "It was a long time ago, but during that time, after my many wanderings through the caves of our clan, Gaia herself came to see me." My eyes widen briefly, and his lips curl. "She is something," he says softly, admiration coloring his tone, and he shakes his head as if to ward off thoughts. "While we had a unique connection to Gaia, being her first children, it was not often that she would come down to speak to us, and certainly not to someone who denounced his throne in favor of his younger brother's chance at true love--the same true love that I have yet to find," he says softly.

"So she gave me a choice. I could stay within the clan, knowing that my family--and dragons in general--were led much like you Fae are, in a matriarchy. And that my brother would soon be leaving, and I would stay and guard the lands as every other dragon did before me. The only difference was that I also had two other younger brothers. Middle child syndrome at its finest," he chuckles, as the firstborn. "The other choice was to guard a realm that she had been struggling to protect for several centuries, one that was filled with untold evils and power channeled by all the darkness within the world, within the souls of everyone around us. So naturally, I jumped at the chance."

At that, I smile. And then I find myself laughing. And so does he. It's a rare moment for us, to laugh and find so much joy, despite the desolate smog around us. But if one does not find joy, they fall victim to the same despair that fills this entire realm with power. Make no mistake, dark thoughts and turbulent minds are powerful things. They can convince you that you're not enough. They can convince you to even take your own life. There is power in darkness, and the only way to combat it is to soak in as much joy as you possibly can and seek the help of those who understand.

After a moment, I mimic his stance, looking across the clear lake as thoughts and questions flip through my head at unbidden speed.

"So, she gave you the realm to protect?" I ask.

"That must have been centuries ago," I muse out loud, "and in all that time, you've been here," I say softly. "That is a long time to be lonely."

He shrugs. "Being lonely is merely a state of mind. I understand my duties. I understand the importance of my role here. I didn't make my decision lightly. Although I made it quickly, I knew that I would be leaving my clan, my family, my friends in favor of doing something greater than me. Because when you know that you can do something better, when you can do something that is greater than yourself, you have a responsibility to do so. You know that just as well, Obreon. For all this time, despite the traditions of your people, despite the weariness on your soul, you stay as king to the Fae when it is not what you want."

He turns his eyes to me, and our gazes lock, a shared understanding passing between us, a connection there that's deeper than friendship. In this moment, I have learned something shocking--I see Ruadhan not just as a mentor, but as something like a brother. I'm not sure at what point this happened--it could have been when I lay bleeding on the floor, or when he bested me during battle the first time with his shadow weapon and laughed uproariously as I stared at my steel blade, forged by the strongest of Fae, cleaved in two without a thought.

"I'm not sure when it happened, but it did," I find myself saying. "And I find myself uniquely grateful for it. It's been a long time since I've felt anything but loneliness and a sense of duty that was greater than myself. That is why I did what I did. Why I trained my warriors as hard as I could, why I brought them to the brink of death only to make them whole again. Because one day, I won't be able to do so. One day, I will release this burden to another family. Someone else will rule in my place and, long after, I will take over the mantle of weaving within the shadows of my people to protect them the best way I know how--by taking the heads of their enemies, pouring their blood out of their skulls, and serving them a meal made from the bones of their fallen."

We didn't mention that we both felt similarly. It was clearly etched on his face, and I'm sure it was mirrored on mine. I look again at him, as the light reflects off his scales once more.

The darkness is now gone from his gaze and a calm wave of acceptance washes over him. "While I still have a duty here, while I still guard who needs to be guarded and ensure that the darkness does not seep outside of this realm, I still enjoy the small peculiarities of life--the way mortals rejoice at the smallest of life's changes, basking in the knowledge that time is fleeting. Meanwhile, I watch the Fae rejoice in larger matters, knowing that while their time is measured in centuries, rather than days, it's still important to be grateful for the power that runs through their veins.

"So yes, I dwell in the shadows. Yes, I deal in death and despair as my form of currency. I do so knowing that I also deal in the currency of love, joy, and safety. For without my position here, without all that I do, Tearnadal and all the other realms and planes of existence on this earth would cease to exist. If the power here were to leak out in any way, or fall into the wrong hands, death would surely follow for everyone as that person or being, basks in the drug that is darkness."

I look away, considering his words, not voicing what is painfully obvious--that everything that dwells within the shadows, no matter how well protected, always finds a way to be dragged into the light, poisoning those who dwell within the brightness of hope and joy. It's the balance of nature. It's what we were built upon. It's what runs through our veins. It often keeps us sane but can cause untold frustration.

Though I don't voice it, I understand how he feels because I know what a responsibility greater than oneself is. I also know that everything, in order to maintain balance, must adhere to the rule: what goes up must come down. It's simple but still true nonetheless. So, you fight harder every day to make that fall as gentle as possible. Maybe you'll only break one bone, maybe you'll break them all. But if you do not try, you'll never know.

Changing the subject, I leap to my feet, calling the powers to my hands, and forming a blade from the shadows. He does the same.

"I frown. You are thrice my size this evening," I say, "I dare say you have me at a disadvantage. Unfortunately for you, I thrive on disadvantages. I hope you're ready to lose--just as surely as those scales of yours glimmer in the light, you claim you're not a fish."

With a chuckle, he pulls forth his own weapon, a blade that he calls Shadow Fire, a gift to him from Gaia herself. It seeps shadows from every corner of this realm and infuses both the weapon and the wielder with pure power.

As he smiles, he says, "You have always been at a disadvantage, you just never knew it. Yet, you still fought, and you still won...well, not against me," he chuckles. "In life and against your own adversaries. And you will continue to do so, my brother, because when you recognize your weaknesses, you thrive on them. One day, you will best me. You will win, and on that day, I will gift you my blade."

My eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, and a hunger overtakes me. I look at the blade in his hand, marveling at how it draws in all the surrounding light, its razor-sharp edges still casting a glow. It's an obsidian blade, forged and adorned with intricate engravings of power and protection--some of the first of its kind. A weapon of the gods, forged by the gods, and gifted to Ruadhan himself to protect this realm. For him to even consider gifting it to me can only mean one of two things: he believes that I will never win it, or he believes that I will earn it. Either way, it fills me with an unfamiliar desperation to have it within my grasp, because something inside me recognizes that blade as my own--as clearly as I recognize my arm attached to my own body.

I feel destiny clawing its way up my throat, its sharpened points leaving deep gashes that pour down rivulets of blood. Blood that does nothing to slake my thirst for victory--instead, each drop serves as fuel for my deepest of desires. The one that I keep hidden, buried deep--to protect something greater than me, greater than my kingdom, greater than destiny itself. My future mate.

I hold up my weapon, and our gazes clash, the fire in mine igniting the shadows of the realm with their own unique light--one that cannot be replicated by any other beings.

And in that moment, as I prepare to engage him in battle, a smile on both of our faces, fate takes hold and shows me a purpose greater than myself. What that purpose is, I have yet to know, but I know that I will fight it full on with everything in me, because anything less would be an insult not only to Ruadhan, whom I've come to respect but also to my spirit.

I am no coward, nor do I lack the wherewithal to admit that if one does not fight for something with everything that they are, they are worthless. Not in so much that those who cannot fight for themselves, whether with their mental health or their age, that is when someone should be there to fight alongside them.

No. If one is capable and chooses to give nothing, they are nothing. If you give half, you are half. If you are not whole, then who are you? What do you represent? What do you bring to the table of fate? Do you sit there and starve? Do you laugh while others feast on your lack of character? Because they do feast. It's a meager meal but a filling one nonetheless, one flavored with your tears of regret.

So, who are you? I know who I am, I think with a fierce hunger as our eyes clash and our weapons descend, a mighty clash echoing throughout the shadows.

I am the owner of that blade.

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Chapter 20

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Hudson

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