Darkness and light cycled back and forth in Adon’s vision.

He had sunk into a diminished state of awareness, but he didn’t think the changes in levels of light were because days were passing. Despite his weakened sense of time, he was near certain that what was actually happening was his mind drifting in and out of consciousness.

When he was close to rising out of his stupor, the world seemed brighter. When the effects of the venom hit him harder, he sunk deeper into the darkness.

Sometimes he was almost at the surface, he was faintly aware of activity going on around him—and even activity going on inside his own body. He sensed something moving around him. Pacing back and forth, maybe. The bustle seemed frantic, almost desperate.

Adon knew this must be Goldie. Anything else moving so energetically around his semiconscious body would probably have eaten him already.

He wanted to reassure her that he was alright, that everything would be okay, but he lacked the physical power to move. He tried to reach out for his Telepathy ability, but he couldn’t muster the focus. Eventually, he slid back into his hazy in-between state.

Other times Adon partially woke to find himself eating, his body already gnawing on something even though he’d been unconscious. The first time that happened, he was alarmed. He thought perhaps he had gone mad under the influence of the spider venom, and he would fully wake to find that he had eaten Goldie or her mate.

Then he felt her movement beside him. As he finished what he was eating—a kind of crunchy flesh that tasted a bit like crab—she shoved something else into his mouth. A taste he recognized as ant.

Thank goodness, he thought dimly, before he sunk back into the darkness again. Out of all the things that could happen to me, that would be the worst.

There were many flashes of near-consciousness like that while Adon was in his venom-induced pseudo-coma.

Mainly, though, he floated through memories of the past.

It started with things he remembered clearly from this life. Snippets of important events. Like getting to know Goldie. Meeting a princess and thanking her for the food she’d brought for him. Fleeing from a squad of Vendetta Ants until he hid by throwing himself under Goldie’s web.

Then the memories delved further back. Flashes of events that he semi-consciously witnessed while he was inside of an egg.

A conversation he had only witnessed a portion of. It seemed to be a rehash of another conversation he remembered witnessing.

“I truly think you should allow me to destroy those eggs, Your Majesty,” a familiar voice said.

“This again, Lord Baranack?” the King asked.

“I have reviewed my correspondence with several of my counterparts in other countries, and the uniform policy across the continent—”

“Yes, yes. The history insisted upon by the priestly class,” the King said dismissively. “Destroy monsters with the potential to develop magical powers.”

“Does Your Majesty have some superior information that leads to this contrary policy? An alternate history?” Lord Baranack asked. “I genuinely wish to understand the risk that we are taking, and what the compensating benefit is.”

“I would never claim to have information superior to that provided by our wise religious authorities,” the King said carefully. “After all, they saw fit to organize both the First and Second Great Coalitions to rein in the Demon Empire. If not for their actions, Claustria might well no longer be an independent nation. However, there is a deeper history here. Perhaps I have given you the impression that my policy on these creatures is simply one man’s whim. That is not the case. I believe those authorities that we both respect suffer from some blind spots. There is much knowledge in their books, but there is also much knowledge that has been hidden away. The difference between monsters and mystic beasts is one of those puzzle pieces. Mystic beasts were pivotal in assisting each of the Thirteen Holy Kingdoms in their rise. Their fate is connected with that of humanity as a whole. If we destroy or disparage them, we destroy and disparage ourselves. That is why they feature on our coats of arms. So that we may never forget…”

The conversation continued, but the memory faded slowly to black as Adon plunged into a deeper state of unconsciousness.

When he returned to a half-wakeful state the next time, he was more clear-headed than he had been since he slipped into unconsciousness. He thought he might even be able to use Telepathy. Not for a long string of messages back and forth. Maybe just a short burst. Like, I’m okay, Goldie!

But he seemed to be alone this time. He couldn’t sense the spider’s presence near him. The absence gave him a bad feeling. Since he couldn’t move around to search for her, though, he focused on the conversation he’d just remembered.

Is that what I am? he questioned. A mystic beast? What is that? How is it different from what they call a monster? And why would I be either of those, rather than just an animal? I am just a butterfly larva, after all.

He sensed that there was more of that memory that he could dredge up, if he was willing and able to expend the willpower necessary. It seemed that in this life, his memories were never really gone. Just slightly hidden, waiting for him to look for them. Maybe a fuller explanation could be found there.

But as he tried to reach back and retrieve what remained of the scene, Adon felt himself fading again. This time, he just let it happen. Maybe it would bring him back to what he wanted to know without any special effort on his part.

He drifted through dark clouds for a while.

Then he emerged in another memory, but he immediately understood that it was not something from this life—or his immediately preceding one.

Adon was flying through the sky. Soaring on powerful wings that could shake the trees without touching them as he passed. The glorious feeling of pure freedom. The world was his playground.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

He landed on a mountainside, a sheep clenched between his jaws. He approached the cave he had made his home. It was time for supper.

As he recognized the specific memory he was inhabiting, Adon wanted to scream at his past self. Don’t go back in there. They found your den!

But it was only a memory. Present Adon couldn’t affect any of his past self’s decisions.

A so-called hero was waiting there behind a rock, he knew, but his past self couldn’t tell anything was wrong. In retrospect, the intrepid warrior must have covered up his natural body odor by spending as much time as he could with objects that smelled of Adon’s dragon body.

A dragon would normally be able to smell a human if they were close by. Certainly if they were inside of the same cave at the same time. Though Adon didn’t appreciate that he was about to be slain, he could certainly respect the effort that must have gone into attempting to do so safely.

It was brave, too. Even sneaking around as the human did, he was an underdog compared with the dragon that he wanted to kill. Adon had killed a few humans in his time, though he thought he was relatively peaceful as dragons went.

So Adon wasn’t too bitter when he got to the point in the memory when he went to lie down and enjoy some roast sheep, and the human drove a long pike through his underbelly and into his heart. He could ignore his past self’s faint sense of outrage.

The human had muttered some words as the dragon writhed in its death throes. Adon had not been conversant in the man’s language, but looking back, he understood human tones of voice to know that the words had been apologetic. Something like, I apologize, noble creature. Please know that I am only doing my duty.

That naturally dulled any sense of outrage.

Even the shock of suddenly being murdered had faded.

The physical pain of it was another matter. It had been a quick kill. An attempt at efficiency. Perhaps even mercy. But a spear point to the heart was not a gentle way to die. The memory of being killed so brutally hit him as if that pike was still in his chest.

Or maybe the throbbing that he felt was the venom reminding him of its presence.

In any case, the pain pushed him backward into another dragon memory.

In this one, he was flying again. Going on a journey. This was the longest trip he had taken in that life, he recalled. One of the most important memories he had from that incarnation, though its meaning was obscure. Curious that he should remember it now…

He flew over a small palace with an impressive garden, and he rose higher into the sky until the human world looked like something that came out of a toy set.

Then dragon Adon glided on the turbulent winds of the upper sky. He flew far. To distant lands. Heading toward a country he instinctively knew he had some sort of connection with. A place his ancestors had visited. He didn’t know what the nature of that relationship was meant to be, but it was enough to know that it was there.

Instinct called him forward, and he had only rarely ever disobeyed it.

He flew beyond any range he had ever imagined he would explore, to achieve one of the purposes he somehow knew he had been born for.

Adon ate sheep—always his preferred protein in his dragon life—to sustain him along the way. He hunted, he flew, and he slept. Nothing more. He only stopped for those basic functions.

Finally, he landed and knew he was close to the right place.

There was a small town in the valley ahead of him. An instinct brought an image of it forward in his mind. A sort of ancestral memory of the place.

It used to be smaller, he remembered thinking. The village had prospered since he last visited. No, since his ancestor had visited. Just as it had grown since before that dragon graced the land with its presence. Going back to a time when there were just a couple of mud huts and a bold woman who offered a strange bargain to one of the earliest dragons to dwell in the land.

She offered—a blank.

There was a piece of memory missing. Something important.

No matter. He would surely recover the sense of what needed to be done at the critical moment. But Adon was filled with self-doubt as he approached the village. The same doubts and anxieties that had plagued every incarnation up until the present caterpillar life.

When the dragon reached the humans, there were a large number of them gathered around a roaring bonfire. Above the bonfire, several of them were turning a large boar impaled on a spit.

People were drinking strong-smelling alcohol and dancing. Some of them had put together a large, paper dragon puppet, and multiple people were working inside of it to maneuver it, leading the faux monster in a winding dance around the village.

Into the midst of this festive atmosphere came Adon.

He expected to be a disruption—to see the humans fall back and run from him, as had so often been the case in other human settlements when he approached.

Instead, the crowd cheered as Adon came into view. He felt his courage shrink in response, as if they were all dragons and he was a mere frail human being. As if they might eat him alive.

Some of the villagers stood atop a simple wooden platform, and they called out to him and gestured for him to come closer. He did not understand the language, but their body language was clear.

There was a young woman in the middle of the platform. The only woman there. She wore a pure white dress. Adon looked into her eyes and saw sadness and fear.

He knew that these people wanted something from him, but he didn’t understand what.

Adon turned and ran, and as soon as he was out of sight, he took to the sky and flew away. He wasn’t sure what he was fleeing, but he knew in some deep dark part of his heart that he had seen the test of his life—the purpose he had been born for—and he had run from it. He was a failure.

The failure of his dragon life would remain with him until his dying day. He tried to live a quiet life from then on, aware he lacked the courage for anything greater. For whatever his destiny was meant to be.

As the shame of the memory assaulted his mind, the world went dark again.

Then a dancing red and orange light filled his field of vision. He was somewhere else. In another life?

He was hatching from an egg, but it wasn’t the caterpillar egg he had emerged from in this life. This egg was tougher. Strong enough to withstand powerful blows from the creature inside. A creature with a tough beak-like mouth that seemed designed to break through such surfaces. Bat-like wings. And a reptilian tail.

A dragon still, then.

Adon was growing tired of these dragon memories. This had been his most failed life, he realized now. A dragon had infinite potential. He had remained at the lowest rung possible.

As his head emerged from the egg, though, Adon was surprised at what happened next in the memory. He emerged into a brazier. The egg was surrounded by raging fire and smoke. The heat felt pleasant.

And a man in robes began speaking to him, using a strange hissing language.

Somehow Adon understood him. The man in the robes was a priest. This priest was telling Adon that he was an important life form. That he had a sacred mission, and that the country would support him. They would honor their ancient covenant with the dragons.

Adon didn’t understand what he was hearing. The words were coherent, but the context was absent, and the priest seemed to assume that Adon knew things that he did not. Missing puzzle pieces once again. Like an instinct he was born without. It was terribly frustrating.

Finally, the memory faded to black, and he was able to rest in blissful darkness.