Magnus Dracones Numquam Mori

He soars.

Over the hills. Over the mountains. Over the sky.

He soars.

Sometimes he dives. Touches the tip of his nose to the clouds and sees the world zoom by in puffs of white and gray.

Sometimes he slows. Lets himself hang in the air without meaning or purpose. Lets his wings carry the breeze.

He soars.

And sometimes he accelerates.

Gusts of air blow trees straight to the ground. Plants are uprooted upon contact. Animals scurry away in a hopeless attempt to keep all four feet on the earth.

As he dashes past, the whole world becomes dark. All anyone can see is this enormous black creature, this enormous black thing, right above them, blocking any light whatsoever. His wingspan is so enormous that the sky is momentarily invisible. The world becomes cold.

Then he’s gone.

He soars.

However, this time he is not soaring for exercise. He is not soaring for enjoyment. He is not soaring for practice. He is soaring because he needs to escape.

The very tip of his tail is a stony, gray point. He has just barely made it away from the terrible, terrible danger lurking behind. Everyone else has been affected. The monarchs have been affected. Someone else has been affected, too… Someone important… Someone which the dragon finds hard to remember…

Suddenly there’s a forest. A forest that is far, far away from the terrible danger.

The dragon slows his course, bending his wings to curve with the flow of the wind. Steadying himself, he lands, making the ground tremble. Trees shiver from their roots up. The grass flees away from the giant black talons that dig into the dirt.

His wings fold back, letting nature relax and return to the original position. Ventus’s eyes adjust to the odd darkness in the thick woods, irises swirling and spinning as they dilate and contract. The sight that meets his eyes is a depressing one.

The trees are so thick that no light comes in from above. Water pools everywhere that it can, making the environment rather swampish. Vines and wet leaves litter the forest floor. The air is stuffy, full of pollen, and Ventus’s head buzzes. Attempting to keep a clear understanding of the world around him, he blinks, lowering his head and squinting.

He inches forward. Slowly. Silently. Ripples trail from his huge feet as he carefully sets them on the ground. The only thing he can hear is the water sloshing around his legs.

Ventus stops.

Something… someone… is sitting on a rock a few meters away. The sound of crying reaches his ears. Whoever is sitting on the stone is sobbing, whining, gasping in air.

Ventus senses an emotion– fear. He lowers his head. Of course, anyone at all in this forest would be scared. It’s quite dark, quite gloomy, quite not the place for anyone. Not even dragons like him.

He makes his way forward, after a moment of careful consideration. The dragon feels his claws sink into the soggy ground with every soft step. Crushing dead plants and wilting flowers underneath his heavy paws, he heaves himself toward the crying figure, hoping to find out who it is, or why it is here, or how it arrived here, or maybe just why it is crying.

Ventus eyes the little figure. His snout is directly behind the person. As gradually as possible, he reaches forward and gives the small person a gentle nudge.

Their sniffling subsides. He watches as the itty person turns their head. Ventus’s blue eyes look intently into the little person’s gray ones as they stare.

But they aren’t– he isn’t– looking in his direction.

The person is a boy, Ventus sees. A child, in fact. A very small, frail child. A child with fair skin and blonde hair and those utterly, utterly gray eyes. A child that looks like someone that he knows.

“Who…”

Ventus’s eyes widen when he hears the boy start to speak.

“Who are you?”

His voice is a tiny squeak. So innocent, so immature. The forest appears to flinch at the sound. It must not be used to such purity.

Ventus blinks his bright blue eyes, considering. Questions come to his mind when he tries to remotely think about why this child is asking about who he is. Cannot it see that he is a dragon? Does not it know that he cannot physically speak?

Despite the confusion ringing around in his large head, the dragon somehow manages to focus. Thinking a singular, clear thought, he breathes it out into the air. Not as a word. Not in any language. But as a feeling– an emotion– an emotion that others can sense. The emotion of wonder.

The child stares blankly. Slowly inhaling the emotion of wonder in the air, he catches on to what the dragon must mean. “Do you– do you got a name?”

Ventus tilts his large black head. He moves his snout just an inch closer to the little child. Just as he does this, the boy puts his hands out, setting them on the very tip. His eyes, though gray, light up at the unusual feeling beneath his skin.

“Wow…” he giggles, “You’re really… big!”

He blinks, shocked at the reaction. He was not expecting anything of the sort to come out of the child’s mouth. In fact, he was not even expecting the child to speak to him at all.

Ventus continues to wonder about why this boy is not scared of him. All he can sense from the child’s heart is the feeling of happiness. Not only that, but something about the way this boy’s heart is beating is… off. It isn’t right. There’s an irregularity about it that he can’t quite place.

Nonetheless, he inhales, and slowly breathes out another emotion into the air, trying his very best to communicate. The emotion is curiosity. Hopefully this boy will understand the question being asked– the rather vague, blurry question.

The child exhales softly. “Ben,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly, “My name’s Ben. But…” Ben stutters. “Who are you?”

Ventus pushes his snout forward, gently shoving Benjamin back a few inches. The boy giggles, holding onto the edges of the dragon’s scales as support. Noticing that he can actually keep a good hold on the snout, Ben begins to reach around, feeling the creature in front of him.

He was correct. Ventus is very, very big.

“Do you wanna be friends?” Ben reaches back to his face and blindly wipes some shiny wetness away. “I was– I was sad because it’s really… really lonely here and I don’t… have any friends…”

Ventus stares. Who does Benjamin remind him of? He’s sure that he knows, somewhere in his wild mind, but at the moment remembering it seems like a far-off wish. Perhaps he saw someone in the kingdom who looked like Ben. Perhaps he’s just imagining things.

Or perhaps Benjamin is the brother of the princess.

It dawns on him. This little boy should not be out here, in these dark, dark woods. He should be back inside the kingdom (though it has all turned gray by now), giving it warmth and light and in turn receiving comfort and love.

So yes, Ventus would like to be friends with Benjamin, if that means returning him to the kingdom.

His wings rustle, causing the spikes along his back to stand up straight. Benjamin, with his hands still glued to the dragon’s snout, hears the change in the air and blinks his gray eyes. “You are really big,” he says to himself in an amazed, innocent tone, “I think you’re a… puppy.”

Ventus’s pupils swirl about in his blue eyes. Him? A puppy?

Something is very wrong here. Puppies are not usually enormous and black. Puppies do not usually have wings. Puppies definitely do not have horns. And puppies cannot fly.

As far as he knows, anyway. In the kingdom, puppies could not fly. Only if they jumped off of trash cans could they momentarily levitate. But even then, they still fell to the ground. They didn’t have any wings.

Puppies also do not have scales. (Then again, that was as far as he knew. There could be a puppy out there somewhere with scales.) That only adds to his confusion over Benjamin’s misconception of his species.

No matter. His new mission is to return this long-lost prince to his homeland. Which is… very far away… in a direction that he does not remember.

It seems that Ventus hasn’t come prepared.

Benjamin holds onto the scales on Ventus’s snout and suddenly pulls himself off the rock. Ventus, shocked, barely moves at all, afraid that if he does any action, the prince will fall and hurt himself. He’s quite surprised when the boy is successful at dragging himself onto his snout. It’s fairly impressive.

“Hm,” hums Ben to himself, running his hands over the dragon’s long black snout, “You’re a really… really big puppy…”

Once again, as predicted, he is confused. Holding in frustration, Ventus breathes an emotion into the air, one that Ben inhales as his lungs take in oxygen. The emotion is a sense of worry and haste. A rather disturbing thing for a little child to feel at such a young age.

Benjamin looks up.

“...Huh?” he says, sitting comfortably on Ventus’s snout, right before the dragon’s very eyes, “Are you tryna… say somethin’?”

Apparently, young children cannot fully understand worry yet. So Ventus breathes out the emotion again, this time stronger, emphasizing his need to return Benjamin to the kingdom before it all goes to waste. And before something launches itself out of the woods and attacks the both of them.

Ben once more inhales the strange scent. He stares Ventus in the eyes, yet he sees none of the blue glow. “Are you scared of somet’in’?”

At least he’s getting somewhere. Ventus straightens, causing Benjamin to shift on his snout. The dragon wonders what he should do next, because there isn’t much more he can do. All that he can try is breathing vague emotions into the air– and even then, what are the chances that little Ben will understand them completely? In order for his ability to work, the person on the receiving end must be able to have a clear idea of what he means.

Benjamin does not have a clear idea of what he means.

Ben leans forward a bit, looking into the azure emptiness of Ventus’s eyes.

Then he smiles.

“You’re silly.” The boy giggles, sitting right in front of the dragon’s eyes.

Ventus stares at him, trying desperately to make a point, his blue eyes slanted downward in a look of sadness– though he then realizes that perhaps he doesn’t need to make a point. Perhaps he can just take Benjamin back to the kingdom without having to let him know at all.

But it isn’t safe for a human to ride on a flying dragon. Let alone a little frail 4-year-old boy. Nervously, he ponders what to do, repeatedly sinking his black talons into the ground to try and get an idea.

After a long while, he finally decides. Slowly, carefully, Ventus lifts his head, tilting his snout forward. Benjamin easily finds his grip and starts to make his way up the dragon’s face, almost stepping one of his eyes. He moves shockingly fast for someone so young. Ventus then lowers his head, feeling Ben’s little form slide precariously down his neck.

He wonders how Ben will hold onto him.

Without a genuine thought, he breathes an emotion into the air: worry.

Benjamin once more misunderstands this thought. His little head peeks up from behind Ventus, and he blinks his gray eyes, wondering what that odd emotion is. “You’re super duper big…” he mutters, completely ignoring Ventus’s attempt at communication.

The dragon does not frustrate. Instead, he unfolds his wings, shoving nature into an uncomfortable position. He begins to slowly flap the pinions up and down. Gusts of wind flow from underneath him. Animals that have gathered round scurry away in sudden fear of being launched into the air.

Tiny Benjamin looks all around. The sound echoing around in his ears is one that he’s never heard before. It reminds him of a noise the wind used to make when it blew outside the windows, but several times louder. He holds onto one of Ventus’s spikes, starting to smile. Higher and higher he’s lifted in the air, on the dragon’s back, feeling unusually safe for someone flying in mid-air.

All of the sudden something black hurls out from the woods. Benjamin doesn’t even have time to turn towards the noise when something hits him. Suddenly he’s sent flying, off of Ventus’s neck, lost somewhere in the forest. Ben gives a little yelp and is then silenced.

The dragon turns his head. Whatever just came out of the forest wasn't a normal animal. Alerted, he stares around, his blue eyes piercing the woods, interrogating every inch of it. Long, long shadows skulk behind the trees, one of them hiding poor little Benjamin. The dark creature has its hand around his neck in a threatening manner, preventing him from calling out for help.

Ventus sticks his snout into the deep trees. Shadows shriek and scurry at his bright eyes. A few of them stay, a few wispy, black, wolf-looking creatures with hoods pulled over their heads. Their sharp teeth flash when they hiss at Ventus, who watches them with wide eyes.

He’s seen these before. They invaded the kingdom. Turned it all to stone. Their leader assassinated the monarchs and must’ve sent them to kidnap Ben and take him to this horrid, stuffy forest. Therefore, all the kingdom has lost hope and gone gray.

By the time Ventus is done imagining, Benjamin is gone. The wolf-shadows have whisked him away, sinking their claws into his neck and drowning him in sleep. They’ve all fled, run off, away with him. Clearly they were meant to keep Ben away from the kingdom. Perhaps to let him starve to death out here all alone. Or perhaps just to kill him themselves.

Ventus lifts his head out from within the trees. The only way to save the kingdom he now knows. Rescuing Benjamin, the long-lost prince.

The blind prince.

His wings push air out from beneath him, lifting him quickly off of the ground. His huge black form rises from within the forest, shocking any bystanders who freeze to watch. Blue eyes shimmering, gray horns glimmering, he rises, higher and higher and higher until he’s gone through the clouds.

Then he dives, and he soars, having no choice but to rescue Benjamin, deep in these dark, dark woods.

The shadows race across the ground in an attempt to keep away from Ventus. But they, of course, are no match for the dragon’s enormous size and incredible eyesight. Even as the day darkens, he uses his bright blue eyes as a kind-of searchlight, scouring the ground for any sight of them.

Yet somehow they stay away from his sight.

Ventus recalls the kingdom as he floats in mid-air. When Benjamin was inside of it, it was full of warmth and light and loveliness. Then, with such silence, the dark shadows came and stole him away. Immediately after, the kingdom turned to stone, and all the light and loveliness was gone.

He ponders on the future.

What might happen if Benjamin is not returned?

A million intrusive thoughts fill his head. Angrily, Ventus ignores all of these and lets himself fall limp, gliding down toward the woods. He grazes the treetops, squinting as hard as he can, searching for the long-lost prince. This might be his only chance to bring Benjamin back.

Suddenly he catches a glimpse. A dark figure slips between the trees, instantly drawing his attention. Ventus lowers to the ground, flying slower, watching the shadows scurry around, whispering to each other in their hissing voices. A few of them look up to the sky to check for him but can see nothing but black.

For a moment, the five of them stop, chittering amongst themselves. Is the sky this dark already? Or is Ventus hovering right above their heads?

They have no time to wonder. Ventus dives into the woods, shaking the ground. Trees quiver in their roots and nature squeals in fear. The entire forest shivers as he lands roughly, standing right before the eyes of the shadows. He gives them no reprieve, baring his teeth. And in a sudden mere moment, they’re gone.

Ventus blinks. Nature also seems to blink, though it has no eyes. How could the shadows have disappeared so suddenly?

He peers around warily. His foot sinks into the ground, which collapses underneath. With a silent roar, Ventus is pulled underground, leaving an enormous hole sunken into the earth. He falls, his wings scraping harshly against the surrounding stone, unable to fly or float. Soon enough the dim light from above is nothing more than a distant sparkle, and he lands with a resounding thump in the bottom of the cave.

Silence echoes. For a moment, all is still.

The shadows stare and giggle at his flimsy attempt to find them. A chant comes out of their mouths, a deadly, sickening sound. Ventus had been the only hope to save Benjamin and the kingdom; and now, in a terribly unforeseen event, he’s fallen into the Depths and will surely die.

Thinking that they’ve won, the five shadows flee into the surrounding darkness, muttering and chortling in their wicked glee. They leave the prince behind, wrapped in a dark, comatose state, supposedly never to awaken again.

Ventus opens his blue eyes. Despite the long fall, despite his wandering hopelessness, and despite it all, he opens his eyes. A brilliant beaming light shines out from him, one that illuminates the surrounding cave in a flash of wondrous blue. His irises twirl and dilate, trying to adjust to the unexpected brightness, and he begins to push himself up.

Always living in the kingdom, he’d seen and heard several things. The children often used to gather around him to chant his name and watch him fly throughout the sky. They would say so many words that it was almost hard to hear, but when he tried, he could make out their garbled yells of excitement. The phrasing was quite simple, one that told him just exactly what the little children thought of him. It almost made him proud to soar into the sky so they could watch.

Magnus dracones numquam mori!

The thought ran around in his head. “Big dragons never die” was what everyone always said. He was their protector, the one who would fly around the walls and dive and swirl into the air for their amusement, and the one who would fight for each and every of their lives. At every ceremony he’d do some incredible trick, and every night one could see him sitting on the tip of the palace, staring off into the unknown. Magnus dracones numquam mori was the phrase of the kingdom– his kingdom– Benjamin’s kingdom.

With all the memories floating around in his mind, he finally recalls the focal point of all this: Benjamin, the blind prince.

No amount of wild energy flows through his veins. Though he does have enough strength to sit up and stare around. The cave that he’s fallen into is a color of dark blue. A few spots blink brightly, almost like shimmering stars. He swings his head from side to side, examining it.

Ventus heaves a sigh. Along with this sigh comes an emotion, the strongest emotion that he’s ever breathed out. It hangs in the air so thickly that he feels doused in water. The dragon lies limply against himself, staring at the holes in his wings and the fractures in his spikes, continually sighing this heavy emotion into the air.

Sadness.

In all his sadness, he does not notice as the cave begins to light up. Swirling colors of ocean blue fill the air. Flower petals rain in from above, fluttering slowly down from the surface. Glowing white ribbons illuminate the walls. Ventus, groaning in his own silent pain, hardly notices any of these things. Instead he only focuses on the dull pain thudding his broken horns.

Until he sees something shine out from the darkness in front of him.

The white ribbons in the air– whatever magical, mysterious things they happen to be– float towards the edges of the cave. They irradiate the small figure of Benjamin, who is wrapped in their gentle grip. His gray eyes are wide open, and he’s staring ahead, shocked at the strange emotion in the air. It must’ve woken him up. The emotion makes him want to cry, like he was in the forest, sitting, alone, on a little gray stone. And the fact that it’s coming from Ventus makes it all the more confusing.

Benjamin squiggles out from underneath the white ribbons. He makes his way across the mossy floor of the cave, over to Ventus’s enormous figure. Reaching out a hand, he touches the dragon’s snout, feeling along the scales and recognizing the familiar sensation.

“Puppy?”

Ventus stares at the little prince. His blue eyes shimmer with an uncomfortable, hot wetness. Before he can do anything about it, shining white droplets slide down from his eyes, stinging his face. Even though Ben cannot see, he feels the thick, depressive emotion in the air and wonders what might’ve happened to Ventus.

He sets his other hand on Ventus’s snout.

“Are you…” stutters Ben, “...Why are you… you… sad?” Innocently squeaking out the words, he lifts his head, waiting for an answer.

Ventus shifts, grimacing at his own pain. He wishes he could explain it all to the little prince. But even if he could, even if he somehow found a way to speak English, Ben still wouldn’t understand him. He cannot understand everything that’s just happened, from the forest to the shadows to the fall to his reminiscence of the stone-turned kingdom. He’s just too little.

Instead of answering, the dragon just sighs. Ben jumps in surprise when the warm air blows past his face. He stumbles away from Ventus’s snout and feels along the dragon’s torso. Once he’s made it to Ventus’s chest, he does something unexpected.

Benjamin embraces Ventus, as if to comfort him. Although he’s much too small to fully hug the dragon, he makes his best attempt to. Even with his small form, even in the hopelessness of the moment, even in the Depths, Ben still embraces Ventus, trying to give him as much solace as possible.

The cave begins to illuminate more and more. It flashes with bright blues, twinkling and shining in the air, and then dims down to a comforting cyan. A thousand different shades fill the air, each one with a glowing white ribbon just behind it. The Depths begin to coruscate beautifully, shining light onto the dread of the moment. The shadows who had earlier fled were mistaken when they thought that Ventus was dead.

Because, as it was said– by the children, by the people, by the little prince himself– magnus dracones numquam mori. Big dragons never die.