Why Drakos’s Face Shifts to Fierce?-Ch. 1.3

“Drakos... this whole thing about dying—it makes my skin crawl,” I said, my voice breaking. My words felt heavier than the wind pressing against us.

“Maybe Mom was right. I should’ve stayed at the Practice House, just a kitchen hand, like she wanted. I shouldn’t have—” I swallowed hard, my fingers brushing against his fur. “I shouldn’t have argued with her. Grandma was against it too, you know? She called Master’s teachings... satanic.”

Drakos tilted his head, amber eyes softening.

“And yet, your mom still sent you. She believed in something for you, little one—something beyond what you can see now. You do know she had her reasons, don’t you? She fought for this, for you, even when it meant going against what others thought was best. Don’t let the past misfortunes—the fear, the pain—take root in you now. Her sacrifices weren’t meant to weigh you down. They were meant to lift you.”

His words struck like the first crack of dawn—harsh and blinding yet warm.

I looked away, the wind biting at my face.

“Let’s talk about something else,” I said quickly, my voice trembling. “The Wind Element. Master’s been trying so hard to teach it to me... maybe if we focus on that, I’ll feel less... less like this.”

Drakos leaned closer, his voice low and steady.

“Are you sure? I know the dying thing unsettles you—it unsettles everyone. But running from it won’t help. It’s... part of what we’re here to understand. Especially you.” He paused, and his gaze flickered with hesitation. “I know it’s hard, not that I mean to bring up your dad’s death, but...”

He shifted the subject swiftly to my dad's and trailed off, letting the words hang like a storm cloud between us.

The wind. It seemed like such a simple thing, didn’t it? Just air, brushing against you, sometimes warm, sometimes cold. But there was more to it. It carried memories, whispers of what was, and maybe echoes of what could be.

Drakos nodded, sensing my thoughts. His voice softened, reverent, like a hymn. “The wind isn’t just something you feel on your skin, Śri. It’s the breath of the world itself. It’s the link between all things—between consciousness and form, between realms.”

I thought back to Master’s words: The wind is the bridge between what is and what was. Between what is present and what flows beyond.

The thought struck me again, heavy but true: could wind really be that important? Drakos’s words earlier about Tashi drifted back, their weight undeniable.

“So, the wind... it carries everything we see today—all the lights, all the shadows, all the faces, forms, sounds, smells, tastes. And, of course, the ultimate consciousness: our souls.”

“Yes,” I said softly, “it whispers and roars all that we are made of—our feelings, our thoughts, our movements, our consciousness. The wind holds it all.”

“And through the four elements, we understand the whole:

• Earth for stability,

• Water for adaptability,

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• Fire for transformation, and

• Wind for movement.”

Drakos nodded, a small smile gracing his face. “Yes. And beyond movement, Wind is the all-encompassing force of consciousness. It’s the energy vehicle of all existence. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I hesitated, but the words felt true. “Together, they carry the grounding force of our being. Wind carries... everything. And when we exhale for the last time, when we die, it’s wind—consciousness—that carries our soul out of our body.”

Drakos’s voice grew quieter, almost a whisper. “That is why, Śri, the Wind Element matters so much. It is the energy vehicle to break through... to help us reach full potential when the time comes. When you saw Tashi’s dying consciousness, the power you witnessed was the revelation of our full potential. Now, do you see? Wind isn’t just an element—it’s the movement of everything within us, of everything we are.”

My breath hitched. His words seemed to echo within me, lighting up corners of my mind I hadn’t dared to explore before. I wanted to believe it all.

"Say no more, Drakos. I believe it now, after all the opinions thrown at me over the years. I can’t understand how people could have been so ignorant about such an important truth—truth of Wind Element, the breaths--to our being. Yes, dear Drakos, eternally, I salute Master, I love you, and all who teach. But I couldn’t lie to myself: fear and desperation still gripped me."

“Enough with the shenanigans, Drakos,” I snapped, my voice sharp, the wild side returning. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

I wanted my words to sound solid, confident, but I felt the cracks forming inside me. I wasn’t ready for this—whatever this was. And Drakos, I’m sorry—there was fear. Real fear. And now, I understood—desperation.

“You’re restless,” he murmured, his amber eyes soft as they studied me.

“Restless?” I shot back, crossing my arms tightly. “Try cornered. I’ve spent my life feeling like this, Drakos—like the world’s constantly trying to shove me into a box that doesn’t fit. Don’t talk to me about restless.”

His expression didn’t waver. Instead, he tilted his head, his voice even. “Life hasn’t been kind to you, Śri. But you’ve made it this far. There’s more strength in you than you realize. Don’t let the ghosts of what’s past keep you from what’s ahead.”

I wanted to argue. To tell him he didn’t understand. But the words froze in my throat, trapped between fear and something unnameable.

Above us, the sky pulsed with an eerie light—violets and golds spilling across the horizon, shimmering like celestial veins.

“What... was that?” I whispered, the words catching in my throat.

“That,” Drakos said softly, “is what lingers when consciousness is pushed to its limits. The dragon’s—JC Draggon’s—essence wasn’t just power, Śri. It was something greater. Something tied to us all.”

I turned to him, my breath catching. “What were you before all this?”

He paused, his tail flicking in a measured rhythm. “A dog. A big mountain dog—Himalayan Sheepdog, they called me.”

“And now? Are you... charmed? Or...?”

Before I could finish, the air cracked like thunder, a jagged ripple of sound splitting through the cold. The violet and gold streaks burned brighter, swirling into shapes that felt alive, almost sentient.

And then I saw it—Drakos’s face.

Drakos’s face shifted in an instant, his features morphing into something fierce and primal. His soft amber eyes blazed, no longer gentle but sharp and wild, reflecting a depth I couldn’t fathom. It was as if the calm, steadfast Drakos I knew had been replaced by something... untamed.

The sight struck me like a blow. My chest tightened, my legs trembling under the weight of it.

“Why, Drakos?” My voice wavered, barely a whisper. “Why did you change?”

He didn’t answer. The fierceness in his gaze was unbearable, pressing down on me like the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. It wasn’t just a change—it was a revelation. Something inside him had been unlocked, and I wasn’t ready to face what that meant.

I staggered back, my mind racing. “This isn’t you...” I stammered, my voice trailing off. “It’s not... you...”

But he said nothing, his silence more unsettling than any roar or growl could have been.

A sudden thunderous crack split the air, shaking the ground beneath me. My vision blurred as the sky seemed to fold in on itself, the violet and gold hues twisting into shapes that pulsed with raw energy.

The ground tilted, and I gasped for breath, clutching my chest as a strange, suffocating pressure closed in around me.

My body couldn’t take it. My knees buckled, and I collapsed, the world spinning as my senses were overwhelmed.

As darkness crept in, fragments of memories surfaced—memories I had buried deep, memories I wasn’t ready to confront.

I saw my mother’s face, her voice urgent as she told me to run. The chaos, the cries of those caught in the sweep of persecution. The whispers of her fears... her illness... her sacrifices.

I Collapsed. And then, silence.