Dariel and Orphela were drinking mate when I manifested myself in the middle of their lounge. Their faces where at first odes to surprise, but they soon evolved into genuine smiles.
“Terus, you are alive!” Orphela exclaimed cheerfully.
“Terus, you are!” joked Dariel.
I approached the table and stood by its side, bending my knees slightly to be at the same height as them.
“Do you want a chair?” Orphela said, one hand on her belly.
“Why are you in that position, Orphela?”
“The baby is kicking up a storm,” she said between teeth.
I forced myself to blink.
“That’s annoying for her, Terus.” Dariel promptly explained.
I forced another blink. “Do you need me to do anything about it?”
“No, no, no, no!” Orphela rushed to say, gesturing exaggeratedly with her hands and groaning immediately afterward. “Damn the child.”
“Draconic curses are a powerful thing. I may be able to tap into my dreamer’s power but… but…” and then I shut up, because I noticed the glare Dariel was throwing at me. “I am ashamed for misunderstanding.”
“Terus, we will never want any harm to befall our child, understand?”
I raised a hand and gestured to dispel his doubts. It had been foolish on my part to suggest to curse the child. Almost no animal wants harm to come to its descendants, and men seemed not to be the exception to confirm the rule.
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“Shall I get a gift for the hatchling? Dragon’s generally give up a piece of their hoard, the one they like the most.”
Orphela scratched the side of her lip, “What did Mardhaka get?”
“From Cirruin a scepter that belonged to a corrupt king, the gold and silver on its end shaped like the feathers of a majestic quetzal’s tail. From…” here I made a pause, because the name alone made me shiver out of rage. Cirruin hates her, Mardhaka’s mother, Cirruin hates her like he has never hated any other being that ever walked the land, swam the seas or soared the skies. I had to conclude it as soon as possible, as her mere mention would make Cirruin wake up in short, disgusted, disgruntled with me. “…Dahera, Mardhaka’s mother, gifted her the life of every last one of her unborn siblings.” Dariel’s expression went somber, and Orphela covered her mouth with a hand. “Little Mardhaka didn’t know better: she devoured the eggs and the contents happily under supervision of her mother. When Cirruin returned to the lair they shared, he found his daughter eating from the last of the eggs, and Dahera watching calmly, even proudly. After that, Cirruin silently crawled into the lair while Dahera dreamed, and pierced her neck in a single bite as fast as a snake’s. With his superior agility and having taken her by surprise, and despite her efforts to defend her life, he soon dispatched her, but not without suffering a defeat of his own. A dragon’s curse is a powerful thing, and Dahera’s final one was… me, in a contrived way. ‘Shall the nightmares of you and every last one of your kin become as real as you dream them. Shall you and your bloodline die while dreaming, stabbed by the monsters of their minds like I was by the one of my heart. Shall a dragon’s dream be forevermore a burden instead of a respite. Curse you, Cirruin, and curse every last one of your brothers, every last one of your children, and every last one of mine too. Curse every other single dragon I don’t need anymore, curse this kin I hate so much.’” I concluded my narration and raised my hand, to show my friends I was fading in and out of reality already.
“Terus, are you going?” Asked Dariel after a second.
“I am sorry, Dariel, Orphela, unborn child. This may be the farewell,” were my last words before I left the word.
And now, friend, I am fading too, because even the innocent act of writing her name causes my dreamer to wake. I searched for the driest spot on the cave to write, next to my dreamer’s hoard, where, no matter when I disappear or for how long, my work won’t be undone. I hope this isn’t the definitive goodbye, I still have a lot to pour on the paper.