Grains of Time

As light ran through pine trees, streaking over the clearing, a fresh wind caressed obsidian scales stirring a resting beast. The unfurling of wings sounded out like sails against a soft sea breeze as they stretched as wide as the clearing itself. Golden shimmers ran over the large scaled body as it positioned itself upright, it’s spine was lined with dark thorns all the way to the spear-like tail end. It was magnificent to see at rest but most probably a fearful sight to be had in battle.

A calm had fallen over the beast that it hadn’t had the pleasure of within the last century, it was rare for a break to be found in war preparations. The entanglement of the three realms left this side of the veil in constant war preparations and reparation. The other side let forests be slowly eroded and destroyed by the folk of the lights making his home even more nefarious. He knew that they would have to consider a course correction of the timelines soon but he was still attached to the thought that civilisations across the veil would resolve themselves. Maybe another hundred years would see the fall of the lights before he’d have to intervene. There was already turmoil this side of the veil let alone the additives of light folk, at least the emergence was to be expected at least a hundred years from now. They had time to create an accords ahead of schedule to avoid another war… the beast was very sick of war. He’d began to wish both sides of the veil would be as calm as this clearing was in the spring.

A wailing sounded through the clearing jolting the beast’s head to the south where a small shadow stood. The beast was hesitant to approach, the loud shadow had the appearance of a light folk child. It shouldn’t be able to see him but even so he felt a shift in the air that held him in place. The wings of obsidian began to retract with an unnerving cracking until a human figure stood where the beast once stood. Long raven hair fell like a pin to the now human beast’s chest where a black sash wrapped over from his shoulder dropping to his feet. His amber eyes flicked over the small shadow as it drove toward him, instinct had made him shift but he hadn’t expected the child to move like they had seen. Nevertheless, the wailing had halted and with a thud the brown haired child had cling to his calves.

“D-dragon,” the child stammered.

A chill settled over the raven man, the child shouldn’t have seen his real form. He should have been concealed through the veil.

“Yes?” the beast responded, but the child had slumped against him. Is it sleeping? At a time like this… how fragile. The thought slipped away as he scooped up the tiny frame and strode west of the clearing. “Do you like dragons?”

A soft agreement murmured on his chest as soft cracking echoes again, this time only wings expanded for flight. The obsidian wings were much heavier in the state of a man, partial shifting was uncomfortable but he could hardly carry a light folk child this young in his talons; they’d surely fall out. He began to beat his scaled wings against the soft spring wind upward towards the sky. This day wasn’t suppose to start this way, a heavy feeling had settled in the raven man’s chest where a burden began to grow.

***

A tall raven haired man entered the empty stone common area of the Inn, he was covered in a brownish-black cloak and had something bundled close to his chest. The Innkeeper felt a chill over her despite the fire burning away in the fireplace. She turned away to avert her gaze to the flames, they were encased by an assortment of stone bricks carved with the likeness of spring; swirls of wind and small flowers softly blooming. The Western Inn had been in her family for thousands of years and had all the character of those years reflected in every inch. She didn’t much like when patrons arrived so late in the evening, it usually forebode of trouble she would avoid at a drop of a penny.

“Leave,” She barked. “I’ve no beds in spring time, the festivals are –”

“Anny, we both know that’s not true.”

She turned her head towards the door pointedly with a flurry of brown curls, “I’m not in the business of giving trouble to others. So, pray tell why you wish it on me?”

“I don’t wish it,” His amber eyes full of sincerity. “It’s, unfortunately, foretold.”

Her eyes widened at the words and flicked to the bundle on his chest knowing the cold shift hadn’t been of her own bias but the winds shifting.

“It is what you think – ”

“It’s not, I shouldn’t’ve been seeing this for another hundred years.” She said.

“The sands of time were described for the other side of the veil I fear,” he spoke while rearranging the bundle on his chest to reveal a small child of the light folk. The light brown locks shone with a gold against the firelight, the child was soundly asleep as it should be.

“Can you not give it back?”

“No,” he chuckled softly. “It was abandoned.”

“Yes, I’m very aware. Close the door before I send you to the wolves for arriving at this unsightly hour.”

The wooden door closed gently on it’s hinges leaving a finality in the air, a kind that was foretold as the beginning of the emergence.