—Border of Dragonix—
An expanse of kilometres dotted with patches of vegetation where the solar body Ra hid and gently peeked at the shrenis of merchants. Often, a popular saying of that land went by—A trader's heart sees opportunity in any circumstance. And true to the words, even at the crux of two universes, people ensured that trade never halted.
Sometimes, the trend of a market was ample to deem political tensions. And for Dragneel, trade was the trademark of a breathing Dragonix. Realms remained connected; information kept flowing, and the ordinary sentient being was yet to be crushed.
Hence, she was sitting in the square, watching a giant orb spin over the clock tower with flashing numbers. Her turn was at a hundred eighty-three, i.e. she still had two hours to kill.
She donned a skin tight jumpsuit of crisscrossed layers, tensile fabric on the outside, and a bonded layer on the inside; a crisp, satin undershirt and a belt for weapons. Yet she considered her attire simple.
She observed her surroundings in an unblinking, immersive stare, her irises shining like sapphires. She raised her head up slightly to catch the whispers of the people. Her eyeballs contracted to filter light. Fine lines of black emerged on the blank canvas of her vision. The sound waves from the noise bounced off the structures and specified the position and texture of the world around her. And as the canvas of her vision completed the sketch, blotches of colours brought it to life depending on the intensity of light and absorption.
The process was complex but simple as blinking. Just like none thought how fibres in muscles work during movement, being blind with only instruments to perceive light was a cakewalk for her.
The pristine sidewalks along the key passage stacked shops after shops akin to a jigsaw puzzle. A few were massive, owned by merchant shrenis, who sure shot had branches set in Dragonix’s realms. Seven humongous gates stood in a file on the horizon of the borders, marking the beginning of Dragonix’s territories.
Though the unofficial market had things to attract an adult mind, Dragneel was staring at the child beside her, sitting on the wooden bench. Not the child, his popsicle.
But even the child was busy admiring Dragneel’s swords—one encased in black and the other wearing a white scabbard. He bit the ice off the tip and sucked the tangy juice. That little child smacked his lips with relish. Only then, he noticed Bloom eyeing at his cold snack.
“What?” He turned his back on Dragneel, wiggling his butt away from her.
Well, as if Bloom was giving up. She angled her head so that the popsicle fell in her line of sight. The boy tried to remove his popsicle away from her again and again with no signs of success. His eyes watered as he tried to chomp off the popsicle in one go but ended up getting a brain freeze. Yet Bloom, that shameless lady, didn't turn away.
He was about to throw a tantrum, but glanced back at her for the last time. There was something different about her gaze then. He followed her line of sight, off mark by a huge angle, which ended on his other side at an article in the newspaper.
Dragneel’s lips curved up a little. “Relieved that it wasn't your popsicle?”
The child jumped out of his skin. He whipped his head away and blushed. He spoke in his squeaky voice, “Yeah…But who are you?”
“Shouldn't you introduce yourself first?” Dragneel sank into a comfortable position. “Let it be. I’m…Bloom.”
“I’m Connie! And are those for real?” He pointed at Dragneel’s swords on her belt.
“Very.”
The child wiggled his way to her on his butt. “That's so cool! Do you live in Dragonix?”
“I do.”
“Then, do you know where Galen is? My dad's the head of our shreni and lives in Galen for work. And now that dad found a big project, our shreni is travelling to Galen. But, I don't know a thing about Dragonix.”
“It must be the ship building project in Galen, right? You want to know about Dragonix’s realms?” Dragneel folded her arms. “There’s an easy way to remember the realms.”
“You’ll help me?” Connie's face turned red with happiness. He took off his cap to reveal his tuft of orange fur with two mini horns jutting out on either side. “Then, no one will tease me ever again!”
“So, let's start with the broadest categorisation of Dragonix. It is called a Four layer-Nine realm categorisation. That means Dragonix has nine realms distributed into four layers.”
“That's hard to understand.” Connie furrowed his bushy eyebrow and squinted his amber, round eyes. “Nine realms in four layers?”
“What's the highest thing you know?” Dragneel raised her arm and pointed to the sky.
“The sky?” Connie raised his eyebrow in suggestion.
“Right. The first layer is the sky. The second layer is of mountains and volcanoes. Then comes the plains and at last is the ocean.”
“That's cool!” Connie munched on his popsicle in excitement. “So, what about the realms?”
Dragneel picked up a stick and drew three lines on the soil and at the top, she scratched out clouds. Connie jumped off the bench and squatted on the ground and listened. “Here is the first layer. And only one realm lives in the skies, Indre.”
Dragneel divided the next layer into two. She scribbled a volcano spewing ash and magma on the left; on the right were tall mountains and dense forests. “The second layer has two realms. One is the fiery realms of Trailblazer, the other is the forest at the foothills of the greatest mountains, Timberella. It sounds like a forest by name itself.”
Connie nodded. He doodled on the next layer and said, “The next is the plains, right?” He glanced at her face for confirmation.
“Yes, and it has four realms. First is the realm of Awshavis. They're the experts in poison and medicine. Then in line is Theodore. They have the largest desert. The realm of dark, Nyctoph and the realm of Light, Ivory. And the last layer is a bit more complicated because both the third and the fourth are dynamic. There's no clear distinction between them.”
“So, how do we know them?” Connie asked again.
“There's a poem. It goes like…”
Hail to these realms of the ocean,
Where the steps to the underworld seize,
Demos is the descendant of the dark being.
Other sails in the deep sea,
Far from the shores of Ivory.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Eh?” Connie made a face. “I’m pretty bad with poetry. I dunno.”
“The underworld is Demos, floating on the ocean, and the last realm is Galen, right at the heart of the ocean.”
“Ooo…Galen’s an island.” Connie squealed in his baby voice. “That's nice.”
----------------------------------------
Dragneel left the curious child on the bench and snatched the newspaper from Connie's sleeping brother. She tipped a coin to Connie and walked up to the lines in front of the gates.
The seven gates of the border were special. It wasn’t because stepping inside meant entry in Dragonix, but anywhere in Dragonix. Dragneel joined the line and folded the newspaper to the page she wanted to see.
Crown Prince Ignia unifies Trailblazer, Rebellion Frontier praises!
So, Moon lost, huh? Her eyes ran over the article.
Crown Prince Ignia unifies Trailblazer, Rebellion Frontier praises!
XX/XX/1005: Yesterday, Crown Prince Ignia won over the rebel garrison in a historic battle. As per the Rebellion Frontier, several days of preparation and Crown Prince Ignia's leadership were the key manifestos of this battle…
Moon lost.
“She lost. Happened just yesterday.”
“That's what the newspaper says too.” Dragneel stuffed the newspaper under her cloak and pivoted to meet the eyes of the person in all black. “Now that she has lost, she can go undercover and operate. The mission doesn't stop.” She reached for the mask of the man’s face and pulled it down.
Two brilliant black eyes widened in surprise. Before he knew, the black mask was on his chin, his sharp cheekbones and beard exposed to Ra. He immediately pulled up his mask and stepped away.
“Woah! What's up with you?” He covered his mask with his hand and fixed his ebony bangs. “I am here to bring Pocha’s orders to you.”
“Then do your damn work.” Dragneel glared. She raised her palm and moved her fingers back and forth. “The card. Hand it over.”
The man’s hand disappeared in his shiny black cloak. He produced her a beige envelope, which Dragneel seized away almost immediately. She tore it fast and opened the card.
✧✿_____Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ____✿✧
The Great Aide invites
the Esteemed Dragneel Bloom
To
The Monarch Palace on XX/XX/1005, Friday, to attend the last day of the two-day Ball Ceremony as Dragonix's Tenth Candidate for the Throne.
Further details shall be furnished to the Great Aide, the selector of the candidate.
✧✿_____Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ____✿✧
“What on Dragonix are you two even doing?” The man placed his hand on Dragneel's shoulder and double checked the card. “There's never been a tenth candidate in Dragonix's history! How can Pocha appoint you?”
“Nothing here has violated any laws. You carry on with your task in Galen.” Dragneel drew her lips to a thin line. She looked ahead as the people huddled and waddled along the queue. They moved a few steps ahead, and the queue froze again. The man in black patted Dragneel's shoulder twice. “That's great, Un…Dragneel Bloom.”
He vanished just as he had come, leaving the people behind him with weird, distorted faces. The confusion amongst them only grew when they found a woman where once a man in black stood.
Dragneel saw their apparent distraught but didn't explain herself to them because it was time for her to enter the gate.
She stepped onto the platform and looked around. A huge motif of a five-petalled flower laid underneath her feet. There were mantras engraved along the line of symmetry for each petal. Each of them glowed one by one and rose above her head.
In her unique vision, Dragneel found the mantras swimming in the air as the words in gold danced around her. The motif pulsed like a heart as a shot of energy rushed to the letters of the mantras. Some letters were straight, some round, others had a complex origin. Dragneel identified seven detectors in seven languages in the five mantras.
Number of people
Name
Universality
Race
Reason for visit
Power
Intention
Dragneel didn't turn to see the guards. The auras and the vibrations of their heart created a sketch in her brain. They were just behind her, enquiring the people who failed to clear their documents before entry.
She contracted the Anterior muscles in her legs and relaxed them to generate an energy impulse. Then she guided the pulse into the motif and diffused it in the mantras.
The golden letters vanished and produced what she wanted. She manipulated her name in the mantra—Dragneel Bloom to Bloom. She changed the 'Level of Power' to that of a commoner and 'Race' to dwarf. 'Universality' got recorded as Dragonix and ‘Reason for Visit’ transformed from candidature to trade.
Before anyone noticed, Dragneel had the manipulated information recorded as the official document.
The guards at the gate banged their metal spears against the platform. They were heavily armoured, four-legged, two-armed, and faces were invisible under the large helmets. But the rash tone of their speech gave away their identities as the ‘Pontudo Burun’. Known for their pointy noses, they were an excellent fit for guarding places because of their compatibility with weaponry.
“One young lass over the top!” The guard thumped the spear again and guffawed. “Let the lass in!”
Dragneel could feel their eyes pricking on her skin. A stray thought of gouging out their eyes crossed her mind. She ignored it. Yet something felt amiss. She felt her skin tingle. Every cell in her body went on alert mode. She looked around. Danger, she could feel it, but where?
She closed her eyes for a moment and let the sketches revolve in her mind. There was nothing disturbing around her. But the way her hairs stood on her skin, she was sure of her guts, of her paranoia.
Her heart picked up the pace. She balled her fingers into fists. Her fingernails sank into her palms. Dragneel’s irises oscillated like a pendulum bob hanging by a thread. It irritated her. Everything, everyone in the vicinity. How badly she wished to destroy them!
Paranoia, a sense of threat, whether correct or incorrect, would force someone to feel danger. Many times, it would be a false alarm. But for Dragneel, she had a command over it. Paranoia was her survival instinct. It was her second type of gut feeling—The truth in fear.
She twisted her head to look at the shops, people, and the surrounding area again. The structured vision showed nothing and the adrenaline rush caused by paranoia failed, too.
What if the danger wasn't here but on the way?
She whipped her head towards the gate. It was nothing but a huge high arc with multiple energy crystals on its structure. The crystals activated on the command of the guard. Four energy beams clashed at the parabolic centre, generating intense heat and light. A tiny hole surfaced at the epicentre. The energy was enough to rip the air molecules apart. As the molecules disintegrated and reinforced themselves, a depression emerged in the dimension of space.
Bloom observed the energy particles of the now a Teleportation gate ionise and create temporary bonds amongst the molecules. That was what teleported people. The ionised epicentre tore the air in thunderclaps and covered the circumference of the arc. The blue light released from the gate created a symphony with Dragneel’s midnight blue orbs.
“Move, bitch!” She felt the uninviting voice of the guards stretch out longer than ever.
A feeling ran through her chest. Maybe the portal was the problem. She stepped into the portal. As her boots left the land, she surely knew what was dangerous.