Mors Draconis

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Thelonious' thoughts are drifting off again as his aged boat gently rocks on the cool lake waves. The warmth of the spring sun is caressing his flushed cheeks as the mist coming off the body of the crisp water offers a refreshing chill upon his face. The more his mind stays stagnant on the recently accepted creatures, the more his frustration grows; his internal thoughts increasingly contradicting his external surroundings that are dressed in nothing but the beauty of nature.

As Thelonious runs his rugged hands through his black hair streaked with gray, his eyes gaze along the length of his worn boat. Peering at the warped wood, and the all-to-familiar stray nail sticking up from the deck, his chest starts swelling with pride.

This trusted vessel has carried us through many a hardships. His anger melting away into gratefulness. And yet, this feeling is drenched in sorrow. Thelonious' appointed duty to his village of Mors Draconis was always met, and once again his forever accommodating heart has to beat to his people's needs. Long ago, his now humbled ship allowed him to display his great skill of fishing that fed the people of his village. Now, in an age that is far past his prime, that same skill is forced to be resurrected to satiate the newly welcomed beasts.

Interrupting his thoughts, the familiar shriek of a dragon fell down from the sky, and its huge body cast a shadow over Thelonious' boat. The blood curdling sound caught Thelonious off guard causing him to stumble backwards, his bare left foot scraping along the stray nail. "YOU FILTHY, DISGUSTING CREATURES!", he screams into the wind. Glaring up from the lake, he could clearly see the black underbelly crossed with striking orange stripes directly overhead. "WE WERE BETTER OFF WITHOUT YOU!", his words meeting the air as the dragon was already nearly out of sight.

The pain of the metal making contact with his foot started to flood up his leg. Thelonious hobbled off to sit on his makeshift wooden bench perched towards the back end of the boat, right next to his bundled up fishing net. Crossing his left foot over his right knee, he peered at the bright red gash, which was much deeper than expected.

"Great," he muttered, "just what I need. I haven't even cast one net out yet and now because of that thing, production will be slowed. When the villagers ask where all the fish are, I'll tell them to thank their precious, beautiful, sky angels." He scoffed, mocking his people's delusions about how wonderous dragons are. "Don't they know that they'll eat you whole if they get hungry enough," before Thelonious could get rewrapped up in his own enraging thoughts, still staring at his injury, he thought he saw something move in his net out of the corner of his eye. And to top it all off, I'm losing my mind. Sounds about right.

Inhaling deeply, he gets up and starts to make his way toward the front of the boat where he keeps emergency bandages. But before he could get one foot in front of the other, he saw it again. There really is something in my net. The thick weaves were folded on itself over and over again making it impossible to see through the holes. Displayed before Thelonious was a large mass of rope with an ever so slight movement at the bottom.

Inching towards the bundle, his heart was racing more with each step. Thelonious bent down at the outer edge of the net, and put his left index finger through one of the holes and lifted slightly. I don't see anything. Can't believe I'm getting worked up over nothing. His emotions once again turning into anger, he grabbed the net with both hands and threw it up with such force it landed halfway over the edge of the boat, the furthest woven rope just lightly scraping the water. And what he saw took his breath away.

This cannot be happening. I have to throw it overboard. I cannot. I can't. No. No. No. No. What do I do? Before Thelonious, the smallest of dragons, barely in its infancy, lay there on his boat's deck. As he steps towards it, he sees what was making the ropes move, it was trying with all its strength to flap its pastel violet wings, but its left was twisted and mangled, bent completely backwards. It's a baby, and its injured. I should just put it out of it's misery.

He steps toward the helpless creature and kneels before it, with the intention of disposing of it. As he outstretches his hands, the dragon lifts its head towards Thelonious, eyes still closed. Familiar with its crescent shaped markings upon the forehead, he realizes... It's a baby girl. Immediately he stands up and turns his back on her to let out an exasperated sigh. What do I do? What do I do? Ok. Alright. Ok. Be firm Thelo. No one has to know. These monsters have ruined your life in more ways you can count. You know what you must do.

Turning back to face the dragon, firm in his convictions, he kneels down once more to hoist her up and have her disappear into the depths of the lake forever. But now at face level with the beast, her eyes flutter open and he takes in the complete image of her. Her violet wings that shimmer under the sun. Her deep indigo scales running across her. The pale golden moon upon her face. The nubs of her horns starting to sprout. And those eyes. They were large and shined like fragile glass. The deepest of blues with silver flecks strewn across. The whole galaxy are in those eyes, and they are locked on Thelonious. Pure innocence is staring at him. Staring past him, into what feels like the last shards of his soul. Thelonious trembles. His eyes well up, and his heart flutters. He hasn't felt the urge to protect in so long. His voice breaks as one word escapes his mouth almost silently, "Ishtar?"