The moon shone proud in the sky and rained her light upon the lake as I walked along the serene shore, looking for nothing but her. But… what did one need to do to find Mardhaka? It’s simple: search for the lake shaped like an hourglass between the ancient mountains northeast of Zenvo, and then, making sure you are coming from the south, follow the shore down to the eastern lobe, until you spot a lone silk floss tree whose flowers are not all that wrong, not all that right. In its branches one should see a colorful, round-beaked bird resting and keeping eternal watch. This parrot never averts the gaze from an island that only his eyes are privileged to see.Now, following the line described by the parrot’s eyes, walk over the water if you can, fly if you are able, or swim if there is no other remedy.

A man or woman of my height would need to take three hundred and fifty-two steps, on average, to reach the unseen island from the trunk of the silk floss tree on the southern shore. Add or subtract some depending on the current water level.

And when you reach the muddy shore of the bemiraged island, and your feet sink in the mire, if you, friend of flesh and bone, are still alive, then maybe she is not there, or perhaps she is sleeping.

And once you trudge past the first stretch of mud, once you break through the illusionary veil, all the birds will be staring at you. Every crow, raven, parrot, cockatoo and macaw at the service of the Avian Mistress will place its eyes upon this invader you have become.

And through the birds, a path covered in feathers, that, were you too follow, were you to stand the mocking and judging stares of the birds, would lead you to the whole on the hill where Mardhaka sleeps (or once slept). And on the walls of the den ridged in remiges, hybrids of her and the birds she loved were drawn, and around the intruders they dance, and extending roots for claws they deride the poor devil that is about to get eaten alive.

And once there, be lucky, or be a dream, and Mardhaka may grant you an audience.

“What do you want this time, my dearest oneiric leech,” she greeted me as kindly as she was able.

I breathed a bit of fire into my hands and held the flame steady, then raising it like a torch to illuminate the darkness. Mardhaka, with pupils contracted, cringed in the light, yet spoke no word.

“To confess my latest sin. Men go to church to confess theirs, yet we dragons only have ourselves, or friends. And my friends are not the ones most versed in this subject. So pray hear what I have done, Mardhaka, and judge me. With the traditions of dragons, with the law of men, with justice hybrid and bastard, I don’t care which, but judge me,” I pleaded my cause.

She extended her tail like a whip, lashing against my hand and extinguishing the fire I held on it.

“Do you bring me any worthy bird trivia?”

“Not this time, Mardhaka, no. I was busy with the family, you see.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“You are like a man who thinks his dogs are his children, Terus. Pathetic. But you are here already, and I wide awake. You robbed me of the next hour or so of sleep, so speak, thief of dreams, thief made of dreams, dream thief.”

“How many iterations related to thieves and dreams do you plan on using?”

“Many, I am bored. So entertain me with your sins. Go on, the Avian Mistress will listen.”

I cleared my throat, more as a theatrical act than an actual need, and began: “I take you remember Sihea, lone child of Dariel and Orphela.”

She licked her sharp teeth, “I very well do. Did you kill her? Can I feast upon the body?”

“No, and no.”

“How mind-numbing. Your narration is proving to be a worthy rival for a lullaby, and it just started.”

“What I did may not be as terrible as the action you propose, but it is wrong, nonetheless. I purposefully lied to the innocent Sihea.”

Mardhaka blinked twice.

“Come again. You laid what with her?”

“No, I lied to her. I failed the truth, committed an attack on it.”

Mardhaka began with a giggle, and it quickly progressed in an ugly guffaw. “And what do you owe the truth, precisely? I lie about this island, I lie to the ears just as I lie to the eyes and to the hands and to the noses and to the tongues! How can it be a sin to attack the truth when she is so ugly, such a sore for every sense. You even are a lie my father tells himself. So feel free to pour your children of sound on every corner, lie! Telling the truth even once should be a sin for you, not spreading what you ultimately are.” She punctuated the discourse with a blow of air through her nostrils.

“I am no lie. I embody your father’s best friend, his memory. And said friend was an adamant lover of the truth,” I countered, taking a step towards her.

Her laugh became an annoying hissing.

“You come into an esteemed liar’s workshop and try to preach to her the evils of her profession. I know the damage lies can do, Terus, I wield them like the weapon they are. Like you and others wield fire. To me, you are but the making of a careless arsonist child.”

With a single movement of the paw, she pinned me against a wall, my neck resting between her index and middle claws.

“You are no truth, Terus, yet it is the only sword that can kill you. I wonder when will my dad accept the real Terus is gone, banishing you for the remainder of days.”

“And how would you feel about that?”

Mardhaka froze in place, and gave me a long, examining stare. It was like her eyes, shining in the murk, were trying to peer into a soul that wasn’t there. Then, she let me go. “Bored, the birds can only do so much to entertain me. They are fast learners, though, I prefer their company to yours. And engrave this in a tablet of the longest lasting stone, because you may never hear it again from my mouth: I consider you a valuable addition to my life, if only because of the laughs your naivety provides. I’d mind losing you, ever so slightly”

I approached her with steady step and patted her snout. “I also hold you in high esteem, Mardhaka.”

She jerked away, as if repelled by my touch. “Say that again and I am killing my own father to get rid of you, pest.”

This time, I was the one who laughed. “Why keep the charade, Mardhaka?”

“I feel comfortable nesting among lies of my own making.”

“Now, do you think I should rectify my act of lying?”

“Depends, would that cause pain? Because I see no other reason for you lying than to spare one of those frail apes some pain.”

I looked at her, and then back and the ground, and sighed. “Yes. I reckon it would. And don’t call humans apes.”

“Apes.” She made a pause and continued. “Then about a lie so white shines in the sun we speak. A little bit of hidden truth would not do any damage, would it?”

“No, I guess it would not. Thanks, Mardhaka.”

She pushed me away with a contemptuous paw.

“Good, let me sleep now. See you next time, my little buffoon.”

And, this time, I gladly obeyed the mistress of lies.