The Ash's Sage

There weren't always dragons in the Valley or my people, for that matter. According to the Chosen, we both are savage beasts who should be tamed whenever possible, a ready reminder that neither of us entirely belongs here.

When I look up, I see black specks circling the sky. They trace invisible boundaries, a solemn sign that Ashers are never meant to leave. Ironically we were Asher long before they subjugated us to soot, soil, and sorrow. The elders say we've been Asher for as long as there have been dragons, but they have long forgotten how we received that name.

We systematically till the soil for food we most likely will never receive in twelve neat rows. The only reprieve from the arid sun is the current that the dragons' wings bring. The dragons' destruction made my valley and valleys like mine the most fertile place for the Chosen's crops. The other valleys contain the tribes of Dan, Levi, Gad, and Naphtali; however, the Chosen call us all the Untouchables.

In the next row, I see my mother. Long ago, the ash blended into her ebony skin and dulled her radiant beauty. She was somehow born too fragile for the only life she would ever know, as if she, too, one day, would blow away like the ash. My father always told me some of us were meant to be soft as ash and others hard as clay. I chose to become clay. Whenever I got a crack, I'd just reinforce myself with more clay.

We continue to work rhythmically to the hissing of the dragons' tails as they slap the wind. From the corner of my eye, I see my best friend, Rhea, sassily demand more water from one of the Chosen overseers. She stares him smugly in the eyes, his flushed fair skin and gray uniform in stark contrast to her threadbare rags and Obsidian skin glowing from rage. Outwardly Rhea appeared all ash- delicate and beautiful with deep almond eyes and perfectly coiled hair, but inside, she was utterly clay. I clench my fist as the guard slaps her down, staining her white teeth red. As I make my way to Rhea, another overseer demands I stay in place, pointing to my mother as he does. I stall in place, realizing although Rhea and I are clay, my mother is still ash.

The hush of night falls as even most of the dragons rest. Everyone returns to their soot-sealed homes to promises of a never full belly. In the Valley, child mortality was high, and so was starvation. Before children were taught to speak, they learned to forage. The crops were the Chosen's keep, but there were above the wild-grown silicas and ash beetles that we had grown accustomed to.

I walk Rhea to her home. We both walk in silence. I ask all the deafening questions in my head, too unsure to say them aloud. She casts her gaze elsewhere. When we arrive at her house, her eyes meet mine for the first time.

"Ki, we need to talk," she said. I'd only seen her this solemn once before during her brother's return ceremony. Usually, her smile came quickly, but it was rare and inconsistent during that year.

I steady myself bracing for whatever is coming.

"I'm leaving," she says curtly.

I'm stunned. I never fathomed this out of all of the things I was prepared for. Leaving was a death sentence. All who tried died a gruesome and painful death, my father included. Starvation is mercy compared to death by dragon flame. They say the dragons manipulate your perception, so it feels as if you're burning for eternity.

"Don't be stupid, Rhea; out of all of your plans, this has to be the dumbest," I yell uncontrollably.

"We promised that we would always be together, and you know that's suicide." I tremble.

"Listen, Ki, I have a plan. I've been thinking about this for a while. I think I have a chance. Most lower-level dragons guard the night while the others rest. If I stay in the tree cover, I have a chance. Anything is better than this," she says shakily as if half trying to convince herself.

We were born three days apart and have been inseparable ever since. Between my father and mother, there wasn't anyone who meant more to me than her. I couldn't save my father, but I would save her.

***

As she slipped through the forest, I followed silently behind to conceal my movement from her and the dragons. Although Rhea was a great forager, I was better. I had to admit, maybe she had a good plan. I was sure one or more of us would be dead by now; we were almost past the boundary. Perhaps this could work, but as soon as the glimmer of hope popped up, it slipped through my fingers.

"Run," I yelled.

Rhea turned ashen with fear. I grabbed her hand as I tried to calculate our odds of most likely survival. Zero. When the time came, I decided I would sacrifice myself to give Rhea a chance to return. Perhaps the dragon would be entertained enough with me, and she would be lucky enough not to encounter any more as she ran back.

My time was coming. I could already see my little life flashing. I felt the heat around me tickling my skin as I got ready to open my eyes for what indeed was the end. To my surprise, we didn't burn.