The Dragon's Soulmate

It’s All In Essence

She’s sure this isn’t right. Her body, while weak, is moveable and not laying in a pile of her own decay. Her thoughts swim around her wondering why it wouldn’t get up. If the ash is so painful to him, why lay in it?

The voice calls to her again to take a good look and she can do nothing but obey it.

“This is what happens when you put too much faith in that of men,” it grumbles painfully.

“What are you?” she whispers, her voice is soft and careful, wondering the same about herself.

“I’m Melchoir. The Last Obsidian dragon warrior to bring peace to this land,” he tries to sound proud but his breath gave way to a sour tone laced with his deep growl. His form that seemed to stretch across the great stony plain, rose to her level, close enough to see her without squinting.

His face itself she notices is long and narrow, horns like hers are twisted behind his head jutting out from underneath a metallic bound crown she’s sure he didn’t need. He’s distinctly beautiful despite the molten gash through his face. It looks deep and long, baring awful ridges down within him. The glowing oranges and reds she’s known in the ground while she explored this land in the darkness are similar here, although they don’t stretch far and wide. Instead, they sputter and drain from him burning awful tracks of grey ash as they go.

His body is large, jagged like the stony thing he silenced her with. A shiny metallic covering holds him down, or so it looks like from her angle. There are more, but she is unable to focus on what they are made of and what they do. All she can see is his pain.

She wonders how it happened, and again if he was dying. Stars died all the time, she rationalized, how could he be any different?

“Ah, yes,” he grimaces as he spits fire at the chain harnesses holding his breastplate in place. “We do,” Melchoir answers her thoughts. “I’m at the end of my life cycle. Maker willing,” he looks up at the night sky, “It is my last.”

His chest piece falls splintering the earth below them with such a force it throws up debris high enough that some pieces hit her. The smooth metal is thick for protection and stays upright giving her a new place to perch. Her wings ache miserably, and the collected matter begins to disintegrate as she folds her them against her body.

“You,” he groans in pain. “You are like me. A dragon.” He lifts his body to show her as the morning star kisses the horizon. Light, unlike her own, flickers across his obsidian skin. It shows his battle scars from thousands of years over his hardened scales. While he continues to stand, he shows off his muscular legs, armored tail and large tattered wings too.

Melchoir watches as she stretches her body as he does, still standing on the breast piece, offering more to her by way of knowledge as his time is dwindling. He can feel it coming now, he tells her contently.

“Our kind are protectors. You decide what you fight for...” he coughs. Smoke rises from the corner of his lips when he does. “This is Umbtrilin. It’s the furthest from inhibitors I could find. It’s unforgiving and unkind, just like the monster I’ve been. I spent so many lifecycles trying to correct my inheritance, but none forget,” he whispers eyeing his oozing wound.

The sun is just a bit higher now painting the thin, lacy clouds above it in bright creams and golden light. There isn’t much time to tell her everything but nods his head off to the sun to follow the horizon. There she’ll find the land and sea that doesn’t look as destroyed as he feels.

“It’s coming. My end is near, littl—Rrrrreeehhh,” he growls as the suns glow burns his flesh. The best he can do to keep his strength is to lay back down. He speaks in tongues, growling as he fades. His essence swirls in clearly defined ribbons of red and black, winding around a center she cannot see. She does however hear his strain. He’s struggling. But what can she do? She’s so little compared to him.

She darts around despite her own discomfort, willing his shed armor from the ground beneath them. Her size, however, is not enough to move any of the heavy pieces. Panicked she looks at Melchoir, whining as he lays there in the burning light, then back to the golden orb. Harnessing the rage of losing a fellow protector, she clenches her claws around the gilded edge of another piece of armor. She dips her body down, breathes in a deep, purposeful breath, bares her teeth and roars.

The sound she makes is ground shattering. She unknowingly calls upon an evil so great even Melchoir’s weakened form lifts from the sight of the shadows racing over the land. A pale grey haze creeps over the horizon giving him enough time to scold her.

“Maker! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” He pulls his head back, pressing his chin against the base of his neck, baring his teeth at her slowly. She watches him carefully as a bright white glow built behind them.

It happens in an instant. The horizon goes completely black giving her one last chance to look upon him before he shoots his essence out to her waiting form. The moment he does, he names her making sure none other than her would receive his gift.

“Raine!” he roars threateningly.

All at once darkness blinds the land. His essence melds with hers. No sooner does it follow suit, relighting it in pulsating bands as it finds its natural glow. Melchoir’s given her a fighting chance, she trembles at the thought..

Raine sheds the melded pieces of the earth while she gains his strength. Pebbles fall carelessly in piles underneath her. Leaves, sticks and grass crumble to dust, revealing her celestial body. She’s taken his marks, adding them to her energy within her new form. Her crown takes on the spindled horns Melchoir once had, as well as his armored legs. Her form is thinner, but in no way soft. Scales cover the remainder of her body and are curved to a point, reflecting the multiple broad strokes of color as they flit by, solidifying her change.

One last burst of power before her transformation lights up the blackened sky warding off the dark forces from Umbtrilin temporarily.

Raine lunges forward, her colorless wings are now strong enough to push her in the direction easily and without pain. She takes stock of the items that should never have been on her in the first place were now below her. It’s then when she remembers to look for Melchoir to thank him for his tremendous gift and soothe his pain away...

But when she does… he’s gone.