Dragon Moon

Bejeng knew how to follow tears like breadcrumbs through the forest; the dragon could smell them miles away from the terrace of the ornate temple that overlooked the misty forest hills. His white and golden scales shimmered as he raised his head, nostrils flaring toward the dense green below, like all the times before. The human sitting next to him continued to doze in the warmth despite the movement as Bejeng rose. Most of the crowd that began to congregate in front of the Gates within the temple had stopped caring when the dragon returned with another townsperson, solemnly accepting the unstoppable tragedy like an unbreakable earthquake that sucks the world around them. They sat on the marble floor, waiting for The Gates to open and mumbling to each other in hushed voices. No laughter resonated through the walls, and no tears were shed either, just a fog of confusion and detachment misting their minds and allowing them to drift off into their heads, impartial to the newcomers.

The dragon’s eyes traced over their heads, pausing on an old woman’s bowed figure. She slouched severely and her eyes were closed as she whispered prayers into her breast, hands toiling together restlessly, golden hairpieces bobbing rhythmically. His gut seized and he tore himself away from the temple, chest sinking at the knowledge that he would have to bring back another one of their friends, damning another person to purgatory until The Gates opened again. Even though the weight of their sorrow cracked the jade in his heart, he had a duty to guide the wanderers to the temple as they emerged.

Through the dense forest, Bejeng traveled, not needing any wings to travel by air. As a guardian of the First Heaven, wings were unnecessary as he could control and manipulate the winds to his every whim. With an army of wooden soldiers that spoke through branches and roots, and hosted a number of mythical creatures watching over Bejeng’s slender and water-like form, the sun crested the sky as the dragon reached the crying figure on the pristine grass.

Sounds of the gurgling river and the tittering birds continued despite the despair and the grief emanating from the dark soul; life –even when it’s not on Earth– continued on and refused to accept its own tragedy. Bejeng had to crouch low to catch the huddled figure’s attention, its wailing directed straight towards the earth’s core until it shifted onto its back and the cries aimed towards the Final Heavens. It just struck him how tiny the human was, with its thick limbs that pounded the ground and chubby face that warped in a demonic shape.

The young figure’s black hair pooled on the forest floor, her chin raised and throat bobbing. A thick, fresh cut lay across the throat’s pale skin, the blood gone, but the cut’s effect still remained on the soul that passed on. The pain in this realm remained a phantom presence to those who lived it on Earth and carried its memory beyond death. Beyond death, there was no pain. There was no physical pain, Bejeng corrected himself. He felt it every day, and so did the other sacrifices, when they realized the Gates would not open for another twelve years on Earth. Not until the next Dragon Moon. Time slowed in this realm, all purposes lost in a purgatory where the souls knew that their enlightenment lay just beyond a pair of locked gates. Bejeng couldn’t open them, despite his failed attempts at trying, only during the Dragon Moon Ceremony did they accept new sacrifices. Therefore, the blank frowns that aim their eyes at the ground could have been here for centuries before, even, the beating of a moth’s wing finished a wave. The distant chattering of unearthly beings lay just beyond earshot, never meant to be witnessed or caught by passing eyes, but as a mystical comfort, like the whisper of a hand on a shoulder and hands brushing back a tear like strands of hair.

Centuries ago, the sacrifices arrived on the eve of the Dragon Moon, content and gratified with the opportunity to be chosen to aid the Gods. The few that were chosen were diplomats, emperors, queens, and scholars who were eager to aid the ethereal beings beyond the familiar physical realm. It was a privilege to be picked. As Bejeng carried the young girl back to the temple, he saw that it was no longer considered a privilege, but a punishment by the court officials back on earth.

He recalled back to the first few souls who came wandering in, a full decade before the ceremony. He had thought traditions had been lost or mistranslated, that the people were forgetting the sparingness of which the Dragon Gods required new additions to their court. After some time, he realized that it was not forgetfulness, but a tyrannical rule that governed through fear and a strong upper hand over the lower class. Those who were sacrificed were lowly beggars, thefts, old men, and women who didn’t pay their dues.

“What is your name, young one?” He asked, expecting no reply from the hiccuping and sniffling bundle. A formal greeting he knew like the curls of his talons had seemed inappropriate.

“Mida,” she whispered. “Where are we going?”

Bejeng admired her courage; she had not balked at his looming figure, but instead had lifted up her arms as if yearning for comfort, and asked that simple question: “Who are you?”

“Bejeng,” He had replied, “I am your guardian dragon, I am meant to guide you to the afterlife so you may live amongst the Gods.”

“The Gods,” she had simply repeated with no emotion behind the words. Bejeng’s ears rang with the unsaid question: The Gods did this to me?

To that, he had no reply, but simply offered his back and a promise to get somewhere safe and comfortable.

“We are heading to the temple, Mida. You may see some of your fellow townspeople there waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

Bejeng let the silence ring between them as the lovely breeze ruffled her hair. Bejeng didn’t risk flying for fear that she might get scared at the drop below, so he remained between the trees and dodged low-hanging branches. He regretted mentioning the townspeople at all. They would not be a respite for the young girl.

Whether he wanted to protect Mida from the townspeople or not, she would meet them either way, and she would see that the humans on Earth had damned her. Damned her to half an eternity to wait. Bejeng almost turned back, but there was nowhere else he could go, nowhere else he could place her. At least she could be taken care of there. At least there would be other people there to share her sorrow.

Mida’s breath caught as she saw the large marble pillars surrounding the temple that supported the intricately carved ceiling. Sets of low relief carvings showed winged beasts welcoming a small group of humans beyond the Gates, a flourish of delights and pleasure laying just beyond the temple gates. Bejeng led her up the steps, and to the open-aired atrium where a fountain trickled water and large bustles of leaves shaded the sun’s rays. When Mida hopped off of the dragon’s lowered back, her eyes held onto the statue-like figures huddling on the floor. She scanned their faces and then flicked her gaze between Bejeng and the rest of the humans.

“Where do I go?”

Bejeng wished he knew. Wished he could tell her simply to walk past those gates and enjoy eternity, but a few people turned, surprised to hear a voice in the otherwise pregnant silence. The older woman in red robes and golden hair jewels rose to her feet, her accent thicker with age.

“Midashaka, is that you? What have they done? Come here, yes, what have they done?”

Mida’s eyes widened and she ran toward the woman and embraced her in a firm grip. “Momma did something bad, I think. But they said she would meet me soon. Is she coming? When will I see her again?”

Their voices echoed against the walls, making more faces turn and watch. A few more people stood, one raising his fist in anger, “Now they are sacrificing children for capital punishment? What is this abomination?” Murmurs rumbled throughout the half-seated crowd.

Another man closer to the two embraced figures spoke up, “Child, what was it that your mother did?”

And another yell from the back, “What year is it on Earth?”

And another, “We must still be years from the Dragon Moon ceremony!”

The old woman holding onto Mida did not loosen her grip, “It doesn’t matter what my daughter did, I am positive that Mida was not…” she paused, trying to find her words, “I am positive that Mida was not sacrificed for the Gods, but for the Imperial court that have overtaken the country. I pray to the Gods that they do not damn my daughter to our fate. Let us speak of it no further.”

“Not speak of it? We must! Bejeng, let us through the Gates, we have waited long enough.”

“I cannot,” he spoke with molten lava in his chest.

“Then let us speak to the Gods, demand them to open the Gates for you! For us!” He shot back.

“When are we going to be let in?” One man wailed, his knees hitting the marble and his clasped hands raising to Bejeng’s chest. “How much longer do we have to wait?”

“How much longer do we have to wait?” One by one people rose from their places, asking the same question, When will we be out of here? When will I be able to leave? How much longer? How much longer? How much longer until I can finally die?

Bejeng’s chest flared, his claws digging into the rock as he was berated with question after question that he could not answer. He wished terribly he could slam his body onto the Gates and allow these souls to pass into the Heaven beyond, but he didn’t have the power or strength to do that. They were enchanted shut, only to be opened during the Dragon Moon ceremony, where sacrifices would normally trek an easy journey straight from the forest to the Gates. An entryway and transition between the world they knew before and the one they would meet afterward.

Uncertainty would only incite more fear, though. Even with centuries of gathering mourning souls and guiding them to their destiny, he didn’t know how to prepare them for uncertainty. He didn’t know how to prevent them from suicide attempts in a place where they cannot pass on. This place where Bejeng used to enjoy dwelling turned into a disconnected part of reality. Instead of looking over and guiding the Earth below between ceremonies, he slept amongst the people. He gave them night and day, despite their lack of need for sleep. He conjured animals to play with them, and pools of water to splash in, but his powers could only go so far. The people knew it was all an illusion, and grew tired of his tricks, settling down and cocooning themselves before the Gates. He wouldn’t doubt that when the Gates eventually opened, if they did at all, each soul would scramble upon each other, tearing and ripping to be first.

“I will send a message to the Gods once more,” Bejeng boomed. “But if they do not answer, I will not be able to again.” He motioned to his bare knuckles, save for one crimson jewel nestled within his scales, “I have used up all but one of my gems, therefore this time will be the last.”

Without another word, he bowed to the frozen people in front of him and shot up into the sky.

At the top of the temple, a black granite bowl filled to the rim with crystal clear water flickered with the sun’s reflection. The last time Bejeng came, he was practically galloping towards the bowl, eager to hear a response from the Dragon Gods, yearning for a way to help these people pass on. But they never returned his call. Fifteen days he spent on the roof of the temple, staring into the black bowl, his emerald gem wasted. If the Gods did not return his plea, he would have used his last gem, barring him from the Gods forever. Tentatively, he raised his arm to the bowl large enough to fit at least five humans, and dropped the crimson jewel into the water, watching it plop onto the surface, causing ripples to spread to the edges, yet never breaching the sides, and then falling to the bottom of the bowl. Before it touched the granite stone, it disappeared, and a moment went by when Bejeng was simply staring at his own reflection before the water went black and he was sucked in.

Bejeng had to swim through the murky water before finding solid ground, the water and darkness seemingly rising from the ground like steam. The air remained murky and humid, the darkness around him never fully rising. He heard a splash behind him and turned around to find a large dark scaled wyvern staring down at him.

“The Dragon Gods heard your call, what is it that you want to say to them?” The messenger wyvern stated mechanically in neither masculine nor feminine voice.

“I wish to know why we cannot open the Gates for the people in the temple. They did not sacrifice themselves but were a result of capital punishment who used our ceremony as a tactic for fear. Can we not make an exception? They should not reap the consequences of their poor government,” Bejeng spoke calmly and steadied his tail from flicking in anticipation.

The wyvern’s head moved unnaturally as it processed this request, and within a minute opened its eyes and spoke, “They say that They no longer want the human’s leftovers. The scraps of human life, depleted and old, the sickly and unmanageable, the thieves and the delinquent, the children too young to rule and too stupid to fight, the rocks that are cast away. They do not want the untrained. The Dragon Moon was a way for humans to gift their Gods with their most capable, but they have now disrespected the Gods, and we do not want what was unwanted.”

Bejeng’s breath grew thick, his chest expanding and muscles tensing as he tried not to pounce on the speaking wyvern. “What are the humans meant to do now?” He growled between his teeth.

“Suffer. They brought the hell in which they now live. We didn’t promise anyone delights or paradise. Let them sit and waste away. If you get too bored of their wailing, we wouldn’t be too against you using their souls for your own pleasures–” The wyvern’s voice cut out as Bejeng’s sharp teeth dug into its throat, black blood bubbling from the wound and seeping into his mouth. Bejeng bit deeper, sinking his teeth, breaking the scales, and tearing through its thick meat. The golden dragon could feel the wyvern’s power seeping into him; almost like a buzzing starting at the tips of his fangs to the bottom of his belly. Magical strength poured into him, powers he never knew existed. He could feel the black shadows inviting him, following him, now that they recognized their new commander. The wyvern tried to fight back, its wings flapping wildly before slumping on the ground as Bejeng ripped free, arteries flowing onto the ground and covering Bejeng’s claws with black goo. Triumphant, Bejeng panted, chest heaving as the magic continued to flow through his veins, transforming his scales, and deepening his snout. A crack emanated from his back, and pain rippled through him as he grew identical wings to the figure slumped on the ground, bones cracking and regrowing as muscle and flesh laced their way up the dark enormous appendages.

Bejeng smiled, cleaning the black off his teeth with his tongue, and his pupils expanded, making all the whites in his eyes disappear. In his mouth he held the crimson jewel, “I don’t accept that answer.”

Carrying the decapitated head of the wyvern in his strong jaws, Bejeng flapped his wings, rising higher and higher until he emerged quite suddenly from the black bowl on the top of the temple. It had cracked, and dark water was leaking out, trickling down in small rivers like blood from an artery.

Crimson gem back on his knuckle, he dropped the wyvern head into the leaking bowl, splashing it over the rim onto the white marble.

“Now that I can speak to you directly,” Bejeng growled, using his newfound power to command his voice beyond the veil that separated realms. “I am going to state my terms. You will let in these people, and I will not come for you. Do you understand? My threats are not spoken falsely.”

Instead of a voice, a message floated into his head:

Bejeng, you use your new powers wildly,

Be careful before you follow the sun blindly.

We know your threat comes with substance,

So we will let all but one come, with no reluctance.

Prove your loyalty, and we will reconsider,

Until then, the Gates will not jitter.

Bejeng stumbled back as he realized what this meant. He had to prove his loyalty to the Dragon Gods before They would open the Gates, but he wouldn’t bow to gods who turned away innocents and toyed with human fates as if they were playthings. With Bejeng’s growing rage, night fell, and with some thought, he made his way back down to the people.

There were some shrieks of fright as people witnessed the outcome of Bejeng’s transformation. He was no longer white, but a deep black with golden flecks, dark arcing horns above his head, and talons that tore at the ground as he walked. The people stepped away from him in silence as he made his way to the center of the atrium, his tail flicking.

“Where is Mida?” His voice came out as a serpent’s whisper.

Heads turned this way and that, searching for the young girl.

Emerging from the shadows came the old woman in red carrying Mida on her hip, both of their faces tear-streaked and hiccupping as they stared up into the eyes of the dragon.

“Follow me,” Bejeng ordered and turned down the steps of the temple into the woods. The woman followed tentatively, her feet barely making a sound as she glided after the tall dark monster. They walked in silence, Mida on her hip sucking her thumb as they trailed behind, her hair mussed and tangled.

When Bejeng reached the heart of the forest where he had found Mida, he turned, the false moonlight casting shadows beneath them. The woman stopped, placed the young girl on the ground softly, still holding her hand, and rose back up in silence.

Bejeng lowered himself so that he did not tower over them as he said, “I spoke to the Gods, and all but one can pass through the gates if I pledge loyalty to the Dragon Gods once more.” Bejeng did not want to mention his loss of faith in the Gods, nor the fact that he did not know how to pledge allegiance once again when he had all but announced war upon them. It could be a death sentence either way. He could allegiance himself to the Gods and they might deny him and refuse to let the humans in. Or he could refuse to prove his loyalty and risk being targeted for the rest of his life. He was created to aid the Gods, therefore to refuse service would be an abomination to Dragonkind.

“Will you?” The woman asked, her voice deep with uncertainty. Bejeng hesitated for a moment.

“I will. I would like to bring Mida back to the human world, though.”

The grandmother gripped Midashaka’s hand tighter, “She doesn’t deserve to be placed back in that world.”

“I know you are being protective, but she still deserves a chance at life. I will make sure that she, her mother, and no one else will be sent here. I vow my life on it.”

Her face still held some reserve and concern, but resigning to Bejeng’s request, she crouched down beside her granddaughter, embraced her tightly, and instructed her to go home.

“You get to go home, okay? You are going to see your mom again. D’you want to go home?” She said, tears streaming down her face. Mida nodded, her face mirroring her grandmother’s. They hugged once more and then departed. Bejeng carried the child in his soft grip as his grand wings lifted him up from the ground, his eyes turning black once more, and then they plunged beneath the ground, almost as if the dirt and the leaves were an illusion. They fell beyond the clouds and the mountain peaks, flying above the trees and the houses, gliding beneath the stars. When he found the temple, he lowered himself carefully, placing the girl who was stricken with fear and voice hoarse with screaming, onto the ground. The temple was a mockery of the one Bejeng resided in: a marble table slick with blood beneath a covered archway.

Bejeng told her to wait amongst the bushes a few hundred feet away, and proceeded to destroy the flimsy temple with the rage of a thousand suns. Nothing was left but crumbs of rock and dust. He then flew to the imperial court, his throat itching, and his breath quickening. The fire that rained down on the court buildings was tar-black, hotter than any fire on earth, and straight from Hell. It feasted on the buildings below, Bejeng’s black wings fanning their licking flames. Screams began to ensue, shouts of fear and amazement, cries of help. Some would survive. Not that they should. But Bejeng made sure that the fire was contained within the courts. He wanted to send a message, he didn’t care if a massacre was the only way to get there. Before he left the town to rebuild their own government, he boomed down to the crowd before flying off, “We will not be accepting sacrifices any longer. Any sacrifices made to the Dragon Gods will result in the immediate death of the inflictor. I will make sure of that.”

Bejeng seemed to grow to the size of a mountain, his voice echoing through the landscape, so loud that the whole world could hear. The shouts that had subsided for a moment resumed once more, commands to put out the fire and to save the court officials, but Bejeng moved on. It didn’t take long for him to return to Mida’s hiding spot by following the scent of her tears, but her skin had grown transparent, her eyes drooping, and her limbs disappearing.

Bejeng stooped low, unsure of what to do. He had never carried a soul back to Earth, but he trusted that with his newfound power he could manage to make her her corporeal again. He dug with all his might into that space at the back of his mind, from the bottom of his stomach to the tips of his teeth. He dredged it all up, bowing his head to the girl and speaking the first words that came to mind. He would not bow to the Gods that turned their backs on the humans when they needed them most. He would place hope and power back into those who had lost it long ago.

“I vow myself to you, young child. I am loyal to you.” A buzzing sensation grew from the earth as the crimson gem that had been nestled on his knuckle raised into the air, glowing brightly in the night and enveloping the sky in a flash of red. With a deafening crash, Bejeng collapsed onto the ground, Mida’s body glowing with power as she stood, warmed by the gem’s light and startled by the dragon’s now lifeless body exhaling into the earth.

Beyond his own body, he saw the Gates opening above. The tears of relief of the people as they passed beyond the white light, hugging and kissing each other, filing through with joy before closing it behind them, not a soul left behind. Except for Mida, however.

The dragon’s corpse brought enough attention, and the townspeople quickly found the young girl, bringing her into the courtyard and reuniting Mida with her mother. Mida wouldn’t recognize the power that she had in her until she grew older, but Bejeng knew that she would use it well, and he would guide her through life as they grew and rebuilt the town, thanking the Gods for the gift that they had received, not knowing that Bejeng’s sacrifice had saved them all.