translucence

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

I was at my desk in middle school when they first arrived an an otherwise normal, sunny Tuesday. My teacher, Ms. Drake was going on about fractions (I hated fractions), so I was daydreaming and staring out the window. Suddenly, the fire alarm began honking out its piercing, pulsating song. The class cheered at the welcome break from math, some kids excitedly giving each other high-fives. Our principal came over the loudspeaker to give her speech about safety, reminding us to "walk in an orderly fashion" to the parking lot. As I went through the halls towards the exit, I saw a few teachers crying. Some of the older kids looked a little scared, too. I didn't smell smoke, but I could tell something wasn't right. We got outside and there were a few police officers holding back a crowd of yelling, frightened parents.

"Where is my daughter!?" One woman just kept shrieking over and over. I'll never forget her; that's the first time I could actually feel someone else's fear. It ran through my veins like lightning.

I followed the line of now-scared children to the baseball field, where our teachers were lining us up, making sure their students were taken home by the right adult. My dad was there, all tightness in his face vanished when he saw me. He held his arms out and I jumped in them. He didn't say anything, just ran back to the car and buckled me in.

"Keep your eyes closed, Bug." he said as he started the engine. As we sped out of the parking lot, I knew that I wouldn't.

We raced home, swerving in and out of traffic. We passed lots of cars with suitcases and other belongings tied to their roofs. There were groups of people smashing storefronts and stealing things like TVs and clothes. One man dropped his spoils and let out a bloodcurdling scream, eyes skyward. I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of what he saw, but I saw nothing.

Dad pulled in the driveway and cut the engine. I barely had my seatbelt off and he was yanking me from the backseat. We ran in the house and he locked the door behind us, then proceeded to jog around the house securing all the windows, peeking out each one as he did. I sat on the couch and picked up the remote, ready to commence my afternoon cartoon binge. The television powered on and a solemn newscaster was talking about 'destruction'. I scrunched my nose and changed the channel. Now it was a reporter lady with round, scared eyes using words like 'unprecedented' and 'attack'.

"Daddy, something is wrong with the tv!" I kept flipping channels until finally it landed on a guy excitedly talking about dragons. It was a grainy recording, but I could still see a magnificent beast flying over the tops of houses. "What a cool show," I thought to myself. "Looks so real."

My dad had finally finished his tour of the house, pleased with the level of security, and came in to sit with me. "There's nothing wrong with the tv, Bug. We are being attacked by dragons".

Over the next few months, information slowly trickled throughout the globe. They showed up as a dark screaming cloud of wings and scales, flying in from somewhere over the ocean and descending on the coast with a ravenous rage. Satellites couldn't track them, no one knew of their arrival until it was too late. Our military fought them in vain; artillery bounced off their hide like spitballs. The dragons decimated 80% of life in the major cities in the first few weeks. They eventually made their way inland to the mountains where they created a network of caverns and caves that were dark and impenetrable for hiding and laying their eggs. They would occasionally send their strongest males to hunt and gather food. We learned to breed extra livestock to set loose when we knew their hunters would be out. They seemed to prefer animals to people anyway. As the years passed, we learned their habits and their life cycle, and we adapted to our new existence.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Most people used to think dragons are a mythical, medieval creation. A monster from a time where science was in its gestation, so magic and religion were the languages to explain the unknown. An iguana probably startled a poor traveler, who ran to the local pub to tell tales of his encounter. As the story was passed down over and over through the generations, embellishments emerged in the form of teeth or wings. Then came claims of fire from its nose and scales like metal. Men were lucky to be alive after encountering such a beast. Children were warned against misbehaving, or they would be fed to the winged demons at the next full moon.

Dragons had no ethnicity. From Japan to India to Scandinavia, the anecdotes were almost the same. In today's United States, one only has to look to the wetlands of Florida to see dinosaur-like animals that could be a distant relative to the dragons of lore. Only these swamp dragons swim instead of fly; millions of years of evolution helping them adapt to their new environment. They are still as stealth and deadly as their ancestors before them.

I've been fascinated with dragons since childhood, even before their fateful arrival. ‘Pete's Dragon’ was the first time I remember falling in love. The protagonist was a goofy cartoon dragon with a guardian angel personality - I wanted his friendship so badly. As I got older, I watched every movie and read every book I could with witches and sorcerers and spells. I watched in awe as Maleficent turned into a snarling black titan, spewing green and purple flames, towering over the hero and laughing at his attempts to slay her. Most of my friends cheered for the princess in that movie, but my soul longed to be the evil mistress.

My mythical obsessions as a child formed my current career path; a job that I would have never thought of as feasible a decade ago. These days, I mostly spend my time in the main watchtower high over the Valley. I am a Sentry, one of a group of people that volunteered to be some sort of dragon militia. I had no desire to kill these magnificent beings, so I requested watch duty. I honestly just wanted to see one up close; I was too wiry for battle anyway. My eclectic tattoo collage comprised of dragon- and magic- themed pictures, sigils, and poetry gave away my status as a "dragon lover" among the squad, so they were happy to send me to the tower. My colorful limbs are protected by a custom Kevlar suit that can repel both blaze and teeth. I keep my hair in tight braids, almost Viking style, half form and half function. I consider myself a approachable enough person, but I don't go out of my way to make friends. My dad passed long ago, and mom has been missing since the day the dragons appeared. With all the loss in my life, it was easier to keep to myself than to have to grieve relationships over and over.

Tonight, a lukewarm breeze swirls the clouds in the sky. I watch a few milky strands skim the crescent moon as they float past. It's mid-May, which means the dragon eggs will be hatching soon and the Summer Shroud will begin. Summer Shroud is a 6-week period of quarantine during the breeding season where humans hide in their homes to avoid detection. We only hide because breeding season makes dragons less finicky about their sustenance. The Shroud lasts until July 4, when we light fireworks to chase them off. It seems hokey, but the cannons and M80s signal a different kind of freedom these days. Finding out they were dragon repellent was just dumb luck. A youngling got separated from his horde and flew into a small-town fireworks display, immediately retreating with a screech. Scientists aren't sure why pyrotechnics are effective, but speculate the sonic boom or shockwave have something to do with it. Clearly dragons aren't afraid of the heat or fire.

The dragons have claimed the old prison island of Alcatraz as their main roost for this section of the coast. The island's isolation and never ending pescatarian buffet are the perfect habitat for a flying lizard kingdom. It wasn't long before it was nicknamed "Cinder Island" by some baby-faced news anchor. When dragons emerge from their eggs, they are immediately led from their birthplace on the long mecca to Cinder Island. They are taught by their elders to fly and hunt along the way. Juvenile dragons become independent the moment they make their first solo kill. Most remain on Cinder Island, but occasionally a few will migrate off to other parts of the globe. Scientists have tried hard to capture and tag an outlier for tracking, hoping to find a reason why they defect from their birth horde.

I sit in my perch, scanning the horizon, and start fiddling with my talisman. It was a crystal dragon head, a gift from my favorite aunt when I was a child. The dragon's face is carved from a druzy gray agate, about 2" long. The gray was more of a hazy lavender with white swirls throughout, typical for that type of crystal. The color morphed and changed as you tipped it at different angles; I swear his eyes followed me as he spun through my fingers. Druzy was sprinkled like sugar crystal candy along the top. Younger Me was always tempted to take a lick to confirm that it wasn't sweet like Dad said. Gray agate is a stone of strength and protection, so it seemed destiny that a sentry like me would have one gifted in the shape of a dragon.

Still smiling at happy memories of my aunt, I am startled by the warning sirens. "We haven't had to activate them in years", I thought.

I ran to the tower office to grab the walkie to contact the ground sentry for information. "Sky Sentry to Ground Sentry. No visible threat. Over." I released the button and waited for the response.

I don't know if he ever responded because I was suddenly skyrocketing straight up. Confused, I looked down as if the answer was written on my feet. I watched the tower get further and further away as I was still trying to process what was happening. Suddenly, I was acutely aware of firm but gentle pressure around my torso and a foreign smell like... cowhide dipped in fish oil. I didn't need to hear the rhythmic flapping to finally piece together how I ended up in the air.

"Do I dare take a peek?" I thought.

Although I had been dreaming of this moment my entire life, I was still frozen in fear. The air began to thin out as we went higher and higher. My head was spinning. I could feel myself losing consciousness, but I was desperate to keep my eyes open so that I didn't miss a thing.

"Just rest, human" came a voice from inside my head.

It was like an immediate chemical reaction; I felt all tension and fear vanish. We coasted towards a fiery orange sunset, over the open ocean and away from all I knew. Resisting sleep was becoming impossible. The voice was hypnotic, like velvet wrapped in silk.... dipped in chocolate. Wait, why am I thinking of chocolate at a time like this? I was so delirious.

The ethereal voice was back inside my head, as if coming from my own thoughts. "You are safe. All will be explained."

That last dose of verbal chamomile did it. I couldn't fight it anymore. I watched the sun dip below the horizon until the last bit of orange was swallowed by the dark purple of night. I didn't know where I was heading, but I knew I wasn’t afraid.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

I slowly opened my eyes, groggy and disoriented. Laying on my back, I looked up and saw tops of great big fir trees scraping against a blue sky. I turned my head to the right and saw that I was deep in some forest, laying on a bed of moss. It had been a while since I smelled air so fresh. The unmistakable aroma of damp earth filled my nose, and I inhaled it deeply. I think it had rained at some point during my slumber; the scent of precipitation lingered in the air and danced with other fragrances like pine, wildflowers and…..fire?

I startled, remembering that I didn’t get here on my own. To my left, a small fire had been built close to where I was just laying.

“H…hhelllo?” I croaked. I started to feel around in my uniform for my weapon. It wasn’t there, of course. The memory of my abrupt takeoff and subsequent flight slowly came back to me.

“You don’t need a firearm” that buttery voice was back inside my head. “I told you, you have no reason to fear me.”

I slowly stood and scanned the forest. I caught a flash of white in the foliage about 10 feet away. I took a few steps, head cocked and eyes squinting, trying to decipher what I was looking at. The ghostly white figure began to move through the tree line; slowly exposing its true magnitude. The head poked out first- it was a glorious head the size of my first car. The dragon turned out not to be white, but translucent. It appeared that the beast was albino, with delicate opal skin that looked like wet rice paper. Every muscle and vein were faintly visible, a sight both miraculous and ghastly. Its heart was a glowing an icy electric blue, like the bioluminescence I saw on a foreign beach once. I couldn’t take my eyes off its chest; the heart’s slow steady thumping was lulling me into a trance. Despite the dragon’s anatomy, I still felt more calm than panic.

It ambled closer towards me, mostly an exact replica of all the dragons and dinosaurs in fairytales and legend. A long reptilian snout seeping wisps of sweet-smelling smoke tilted now about a foot from my face. The dragon’s hulking torso resembled a brontosaurus, with a tail as long as its neck that ended in an unexpected pale pink plumage. The wings were as sheer as the body, except instead of the expected spikes and scales, silky pink feathers lined the top side. The animal had giant eyes that looked like they belonged more to a darling calf than a fire-breathing killer. It blinked its long eyelashes at me, observing me closely.

“Are you hurt?” came the voice.

The dragon’s lips didn’t move, so I scanned the forest for some sort of dragon master or warrior that controlled it. I quickly found no one. I looked back at the dragon, and it gave a nod as if to confirm what I already knew.

“You can communicate with me?” I asked, incredulous.

“Some dragons are telepathic”, was the voiceless reply. “There are several dragon subspecies that each have their own gift. This is mine.”

My mind was spinning with all the questions I had. I just couldn't get words out.

The dragon noticed me struggling. “Think your thoughts, I can hear them.”

Completely unnerved (and maybe a little indignant about the privacy invasion), I thought “Where are you from?”, and almost immediately hated myself for leading with such a rudimentary question.

“Dragons are not of this world. We originated on a planet far outside your solar system. Our home was similar in ways to your Earth, but without the plague of things like steel, concrete, and pollution. We came here as guardians to help guide humans into a peaceful and prosperous existence, but quickly learned they hadn’t evolved to telepathic communication yet. We are obviously intimidating beings, and without the ability to convey our intentions, we were quickly feared.” The dragon paused, looking almost heartbroken as it remembered the moment humans turned on them.

I could physically feel its grief in my chest like a hot coal searing my heart. I put my hand to my chest and looked into the dragon’s eyes. “Yes,” it said. “you and I are now telepathically and emotionally linked.”

It continued, “My lineage is a clan known as the Keepers. We are psychic and telepathic as well as pacifists and muses. My ancestor was assigned to Master DaVinci; she was very proud to tell her stories. She was the inspiration for his flying machine”

Incredulous, I shook my head. “How has your kind been here all this time without being detected? We thought this was the first invasion.”

The dragon stiffened a little. “We are not ‘invaders’. A select few of us travel to other universes seeking those that need our help. During the early centuries on this planet, we were feared as demons and hunted. Unable to explain our intention, we had to return home. We came back this time sensing that humans were in crisis; we wanted to try again to offer our assistance. We hoped that humankind had evolved enough to connect with us. We did find some spiritual healers and shaman that we could communicate with, but humans as a whole were still too egocentric. They refuse to learn from the past.”

The dragon paused as if carefully choosing what to say next. “I know you must wonder why I selected you and brought you here. There is much that we need to discuss, but in due time.” Taking a few steps back, the dragon knelt on all fours and offered a wing. “Climb on, Bug”.

Despite the use of my Dad's special nickname, I hesitated. Less than 12 hours ago I thought I was being kidnapped as food, only to find out that my kidnapper was more Falkor than Kaiju. I was still debating whether or not to run and hide when it spoke to me (thought at me?) once more.

“My name,” it said “is Nakira. I am your Keeper and your Soulmate. You and I are destined to change the fate of all living beings on Earth.”

I am pretty sure the last thing I saw was a look of disappointment on a dragon’s face as I fainted.