Skye has always known that they would be called to serve the Gladekeeper, but they wanted this duty to mean something if they had the choice. Glademother would not have had Skye born knowing if She’d meant for them to just pass into Her care immediately, they know that. So they train with the senior dragons and wait.
Last of three to leave the nest, Chloe has taken to wandering around the Shrieking Wilds alone, a dangerous proposition even for an Imperial. Without warning, the young dragon is sucked into a mud bog, gone before she can even cry out. She will go to the Gladekeeper, then, unnoticed and forgotten.
Skye is the only one at the entrance of the lair when Eha swoops in, wings flaring in distress. “I hear a mind in extreme distress, Skye!” she says. “Who’s on patrol?”
“Yophiel,” Skye says, the Skydancer’s anxiety passing to them as well, causing the Spiral to twist around, wings fluttering as they sound the alert.
Yophiel’s arrival is prompt. “What is it?” the Wildclaw asks, goggles pushed back so they can see his face.
“I hear a mind in despair, nearby,” Eha says. “I think we can still save her.”
“Rescue it is,” Yophiel says immediately. “Cullen and Isaura are in the Kelp Beds, so it’ll be the three of us, since it’s urgent. Let me get some of my tools, in case she’s trapped somewhere we can’t easily reach.”
“Good idea,” Skye agrees, turning agitated loops above the two older dragons. “Eha, where is she?”
“Northeast,” Eha says, fidgeting with her toes in the soft dirt. “Hurry, Yophiel!” Before the Wildclaw returns, the spirit healer gasps. “She’s sinking! She’s… Skye, we need to go now!”
“All right, but let me leave a note for Yophiel in case we need rescuing,” Skye replies, trying not to get caught up in Eha’s panic. “Calm down, Eha. We won’t reach her at all if you’re not calm enough to find her.”
The young Imperial has given up struggling. Her wings are coated in the sticky, clinging mud, and she can’t get any closer to the edge of the mud pit. She wishes she’d gotten a chance to apologize to her mother for not listening about sinking mud pits. Only her head is still fully clear of the sucking ooze, and she spots a bright flash of blue and green. Too late, she thinks.
Skye arrives just ahead of Eha. “There!” they shout at the Skydancer. “I see blue!”
“Grab those vines and drop one down,” Eha says, worrying at her claws. “If we can just hold onto her until Yophiel gets here and comes up with something clever…”
Skye agrees wholeheartedly and dives into the heavy trees to find a suitable vine. Dropping it down, they call, “Catch!” They can’t remember the young one’s name. Does she have one yet?
The Imperial lifts her head. “With what?”
“Your mouth for now,” Eha retorts. “We’ll get you out of there, but you have to help.” She’s almost as large as the not-yet-grown Imperial, and between her and Skye’s almost negligible weight, they manage to anchor the young one against the sucking of the mud.
Yophiel arrives and takes in the situation at a glance. “Move your wings very slowly,” he instructs the Imperial. “Let the mud fill in the spot where you’ve just left before moving further. I’ll get the pulleys set up.”
Anyone who has never seen the engineer work before would be surprised at how quickly he gets everything set up, first hammering a peg deep into the ground and looping the end of the vine the other two are holding through. “Let go… carefully,” Yophiel says, watching his peg. When it bends but doesn’t give, he nods in satisfaction and finishes with the pulleys. “Keep moving, youngster.”
“I can’t…” the Imperial says weakly, fluttering her newly freed wings desperately. “I’m so tired.”
Skye darts in and uses their claws to start digging at the mud, instructing the much-larger dragon on which way to move her limbs as they free them. The Imperial’s head is sinking and she almost gives into panic until Skye gets up underneath her, pushing her chin up with their small body. Suddenly, with a wet gloop, some of the mud sucks back in rapidly, engulfing the Spiral. “Skye!” the Imperial cries, fishing her tiny rescuer out.
The damage is done, though; Skye was startled enough that they inhaled, sticky mud coating their breathing tubes. “It’s all right,” they say to the Imperial. “Let’s get out of the mud.”
Yophiel and Eha tug the two back to solid ground, the Wildclaw ignoring the Skydancer’s protests that they should move faster. “I don’t want to strain the equipment or the girl’s neck, Eha,” the engineer replies. “You should have purchase with your front claws now, child.” Someone who knew the lavender dragon well would have known he was upset by his expression, but his claws and his tone are steady on the vine, towing with all of his strength.
As they get the two mud-covered dragons onto the firm earth, a smell like spring flowers wafts through the air. ËSkye,Ë a resonant voice says softly, and the Imperial sets the small dragon down, their bright clothes and scales almost completely obscured by dark mud. ☼This is why I wanted you to join Me,☼ the Gladekeeper says, nothing more than a voice on the wind and a feeling of green. ☼Your selfless heart and the bond you represent are much needed at My side.☼
All of the dragons bow except Skye, who is too exhausted. Instead, they smile up at the Imperial, who is weeping. “It’s all right, Chloe,” they say, suddenly knowing her name. “I’ve always been meant for this.”
“It’s still my fault you have to go now,” she sobs, dropping her muzzle to nose gently at the Spiral. “If I hadn’t left the path, you never would have had to rescue me.”
“I wanted it to mean something when I went,” Skye says, nuzzling back. “Saving someone is the best thing I could do, so thank you for letting me save you.” The Gladekeeper’s breeze blows through again and Skye flutters upright, their wings strong again. “Goodbye, everyone. Tell my parents that I chose this.”
“That never works,” Yophiel says under his breath, then nuzzles his descendant.
Skye gives their great-grandfather a Spiral’s impish grin. “Perhaps Glademother will let me tell them in person before I go? That would be best.” Waving one more time, the Spiral vanishes in the direction of the lair.
When the three returned to the lair, they were greeted by Xandra, Aphrodisia, and Iona, Skye’s mother. “I’m so sorry!” Chloe wailed at her, flinging herself (carefully) down in front of the blue Spiral.
Iona blinked. “I always knew Skye would go to the Glademother, Chloe,” she says gently, coiling around the Imperial in a Spiral hug. “They told me this when they were barely hatched. They also told me that they were looking forward to seeing their sister, so don’t be sad.”
“So they did come by to say goodbye, then,” Yophiel says with a chuckle, joining them after reporting to Xandra. “That’s just like Skye to remember to tell you where they were going,” he tells Iona, his granddaughter. “I’m sure the Glademother enjoys their company immensely.”
“Come home and get cleaned up,” Aphrodisia says to her daughter, calling thanks over her shoulder to Yophiel and Eha, who both nod back.
The two older dragons stare out over the jungle. “Did you know?” Yophiel asks quietly.
“That Skye was fated? No. Their mother never told me,” Eha says, the first words she’s spoken since they’d pulled Chloe free. “They seem satisfied with their destiny, though.”
“A life for a life,” Yophiel said, shaking his head. “I’ll put a fence around that mudhole so we won’t have to do this again.”
As Chloe settled into her nest to sleep, she heard Skye’s voice. “Don’t you dare be sad about this, Chloe. I’m having so much fun with the Glademother! I’ll be keeping an eye on you, so don’t let yourself go into a sulk or I’ll bother you until you come out of it!”
Chloe snorts. “How like a Spiral to threaten to be annoying even after joining the Gladekeeper,” she says, but she’s smiling. “I’ll hold you to that, Skye.”
{Yophiel and Eha, if you want to see them. Please tell me if I screwed up Skye’s dialogue attribution or anything; they are gender neutral. Feel free to ramble at me here or find Tindi11 on FR!}
Cullen and Isaura have trained so many hopeful fighters for the Gladekeeper, they’ve lost track. The fight against Winter is never easy, but this year seems particularly fierce. The defenders of the clan are looking forward to a break for Equinox, a feast from Sgaire (mostly using their spoils; he promised it will be delicious), and a bunch of fluffy babies to play with; the Gladekeeper has blessed the nesting couples with unusual fertility, and there are sixteen eggs on the grounds.
The Viridian Labyrinth is almost eerily silent; anyone who can fight has been sent to the borders to keep an eye out for any intruders. Davorin has been telling the hatchlings happy Spring stories about bunnies and flowers, and he returns the babes to their parents, if their parents are present. Orestes, the father of one trio, has gone to the fighting, but Esyllt is there, though she seems distracted. Dav puts this down to her not wanting Winter to be over, and leaves her to her thoughts. The children, descendants of his, sense their mother’s mood and are quiet.
Davorin has a grotto near Jocasta’s garden, where the hatchlings like to play, well sheltered from the cold. Therefore, he doesn’t feel the stirrings of an icy attack until his son Dmitry comes to wake him. “The Nesting Grounds!” the Skydancer says, not bothering to land. “There’s no way the parents can handle all those eggs on their own; they’re outnumbered two-to-one!”
“Let’s go! The babies are with their parents,” Dav replies.
The fight to get all the eggs off the cold ground is both quick and agonizingly slow. Finally, the parents are able to manage on their own. “Dav!” The Mirror hears a frantic cry from his friend Seascape. “Davorin!”
“Seascape, what’s wrong?” the healer says, landing next to the Coatl, who is pacing.
“My daughters are gone; Yophiel says you left them with him, but they’re not here!”
“Let’s see if they went to the garden; maybe all the noise woke them up,” Dav says soothingly, and the three fly to his grotto.
They are met by an astounding sight. Five of the nine Sunleaf hatchlings are there, Seascape’s daughters and Esyllt’s three, but they look… greenish and transparent. Standing over them is a glowing green figure, looking sternly at a slumped dragon in front of Her: “The Gladekeeper,” Dmitry whispers, awed.
“My babies!” Seascape cries, and flies over to the group. Words are exchanged, and the Coatl becomes more and more frantic as the Lady explains. “No! Let them stay here!”
*They have already felt My touch* the Glademother says gently, Her voice resonant. *I will tend to them carefully, Seascape. They have siblings in My care as well, and they will all write home, I promise.* The Gladekeeper vanishes, taking the hatchlings with her.
“How could you let this happen?” Seascape demands of Davorin as the Mirror approaches numbly. “You’re supposed to stay here!”
“The eggs needed saving,” Dmitry argues, but Davorin slumps as he sees that the chastised dragon is Esyllt. “Dad?”
Dav goes over to Esyllt, his granddaughter. “What happened?”
She whimpers and says, “I didn’t know they were after the babies, Davorin, I promise! I thought they just wanted to blight our supplies!”
“You let them into the garden?” Davorin says, shocked.
“No! I told them not to! I came after my cubs when they said they heard a noise!” Esyllt replies, still staring at the place where said cubs had disappeared. “No one was here, but it was frozen, and I couldn’t… I tried, but if the Gladekeeper hadn’t come, I would have frozen as well!”
“This is what comes of encouraging her to be silly about the Winter, Davorin,” Seascape snaps. “What do I tell Yophiel?”
“I don’t know,” Davorin says quietly. Seascape seems to have forgotten in her anger that Esyllt’s three hatchlings were his kin as well. “I’ll… I don’t know what we’re going to do, Seascape, I’m sorry.”
“Leave him alone!” Dmitry growls at the Coatl, moving protectively closer to his father. “We had to save the eggs, Seascape. The babies were supposed to be safe at home!”
“Are you blaming me and my mate, then?” Seascape’s voice is dangerous. “They came to find the dragon they trusted most.” Davorin flinches. “I’m going home.”
“Dad, it’s not your fault,” Dmitry says. “We can’t be everywhere, and I’m the one who came to get you.”
“I should have known they’d be scared; the girls don’t like the cold,” Davorin says, and Dmitry knows his father isn’t listening. The Skydancer nudges the healer to his grotto. Davorin curls up, not looking at anyone.
“Esyllt, you need to tell Xandra what happened, preferably before Seascape does and blames my father for everything,” Dimi orders the Tundra, who nods. “This isn’t your fault, either. Winter doesn’t pick and choose.”
“All right. I’ll get Konstantin as well,” Esyllt says, looking in at the healer.
“Good thinking.”
The fallout from the night of frost is less messy than it could be. Orestes, surprisingly, takes Davorin’s side. “The hatchlings left their nests on their own, Seascape,” the huge Ridgeback says. “Dav can’t be everywhere at once.”
It’s not so surprising, though, when you remember that Davorin kept all of Orestes’ father Itzal’s gear to give to his son and recommended him to Cullen as soon as the Ridgeback reached his full size. Most of the younger generation of the clan are equally supportive; Davorin is an additional parent to all of them, there for all the ailments and nightmares of youth, and to support whatever they want to do when they grow up.
The dragon who is hardest on Davorin is the healer himself. Even though he couldn’t possibly have known the hatchlings would run away, he did promise the babies that he’d always be at his grotto if they needed him. Nothing the others say is enough to bring him out of his sadness. Even the fact that Euthalia pointedly moved her three babies into the garden with their sister, Jocasta, doesn’t make much of an impact, though he loves and cares for the little ones still.
Two days after Equinox, the story of Dandelion and his 40 rescued hatchlings comes to Clan Sunleaf. Hearing that they’re looking for new families for the youngsters, Seascape immediately sets out with Reko. Davorin doesn’t offer, rightly thinking that the Coatl will refuse his involvement anyway. She brings back a little yellow Tundra named Sieglinde, and Reko insists on introducing the little one to everyone.
When Sigi meets Davorin, she immediately squeaks at him to be cuddled, and then snuggles right under his wing, much to his surprise. “You smell kind,” she tells him with a little nuzzle. “I like you.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Konstantin says. “Davorin looks after all the little ones of the clan, and he’ll help you if you get into trouble. Right, Dav?” The dark Tundra is worried that he might be overstepping; from all indications, it seems like the Mirror is thinking of giving up his calling as baby-minder.
The healer looks down at the fluffy little yellow and purple baby, who looks back with affection and trust. “Right. That’s my job,” he tells Sieglinde. “You’ll stay with Seascape and Yophiel at night, though, all right? Your brother will get lonely if you don’t.”
“Of course,” Sigi replies. “Why isn’t he here now?”
Davorin doesn’t have an answer that would make sense to a baby. “Seascape thought it was best,” he says finally, bowing his head. “Maybe we should ask her if she wants you to spend the day with me first.” He can guess what the answer will be, and is suddenly downcast again.
Sieglinde butts him with her fluffy little head. “Stop smelling sad. I’ll tell her to let me come, and my brother, too. He’s getting bored at the nest anyway, and the garden looks like fun!”
“The garden is fun,” Dmitry agrees. “I’ll keep an eye on the others if you want to go with her and talk to Seascape, Dad.”
“Dad?” Sigi asks, and Mirror and Skydancer both nod. “My Dad is a Tundra, like me! His name is Dandelion,” she says proudly. “I got to snuggle under his cape and it was soooo warm!”
“We heard,” Dav says with a smile he can’t stop. The little one is so enthusiastic. “All right. Let’s go talk to Seascape.”
To Davorin’s surprise, Sieglinde immediately stomps her fluffy feet up to her adopted mother and demands, “You need to stop making Davorin smell sad and let Brother visit the garden.”
When Seascape sees that the healer is just as shocked by the hatchling’s behavior as she herself is, the Coatl stops the retort she had ready, literally pulling her tongue in. Once she’s gotten herself under more control, Seascape says, “I was going to come find you, actually. Both Isaura and Xandra let me hear about it this morning when I got back.” She smiles ruefully and adds, “That’s probably how Reko managed to steal Sigi to introduce her to you.”
Davorin sighs. “I’m sorry about the babies, Seascape.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry I blamed you.” Seascape nudges Dav gently with her tail. “Friends again?”
“With that face looking at me?” Dav says with a laugh, pointing to Sieglinde, who is indeed looking winsome and hopeful as only a fuzzy Tundra baby can. “Of course we’re friends again.”
“Yay! Can we go play in the garden now?” Sieglinde asks, and both adult dragons laugh.
Davorin watches the babies play, standing alone at the mouth of his grotto. “Thank you for Sieglinde, Gladekeeper,” he whispers. “We’ll take good care of her.”
(Sometime later, this arrives in a shower of flower petals)
Hi, Mama! We’re safe and happy here with Glademama; She said to tell you She’s sorry, but not to worry about us! Our big brother, Everglades, has been looking after us. He says that Dad and Isaura taught him how to fight! Mostly he does what Dav did with us there: looks after the younger dragons and tells us stories. Oh! Tell Dav we’re sorry that we ran away, and Esyllt’s babies, too! We didn’t mean to upset him. Also, tell him Labradorite says hello and sorry that he got saddled with Esyllt. Lab looks after the Tundra trio, since they’re his grandkids. I’ll write again, and I’ll make everyone who says hi do it themselves!
Love, Galechka
{A HUGE OOC thank you to Bark for giving me Sieglinde and the starting seeds of this lore! Dandelion can be found here!}
(Reko) It has come to our attention that several of the younger members of our clan want to know why Xandra doesn’t speak Common Draconic. Some of us *shoots a sidelong look at Ankuroth, who shrugs* wanted to punish you for being nosy, but curiosity is not a sin. In fact, you wouldn’t all be part of our clan if you weren’t curious, because Xandra values the search for knowledge above everything.
(Ankuroth) I wanted them to be punished because they kept pestering all of us about it instead of asking Xandra themselves; she’s not that hard to understand, and there are others here who can understand her and will translate. We’re busy.
(Davorin) I don’t mind. I should have her start telling stories to the hatchlings again anyway, now that she’s done with her latest project.
(Reko) Anyway, some of this is… well, it’s hard to talk about. The early days of our clan were chaotic and a lot of dragons left that possibly shouldn’t have, to get away from Corbin or because they were frustrated with Xandra. It was hard on all of us, but it was hardest on Xandra. She told me what I can tell you, but if you want to know more, you will have to learn to understand her, because she won’t let any of the rest of us talk about the personal stuff, and why should she?
*Reko takes a deep breath and sits straighter*
When Xandra was young, she didn’t speak much at all, except for the occasional squawk. She got her point across, and she had more important things to do than forcing words out. A larger dragon once told her she sounded like a bird, which intrigued her. She’d heard birds, and they didn’t speak like Fae, except that their voices were also small. Their tones varied and warbled. Could a Fae warble? It would be a strange warble; Fae throats didn’t have the ability to vary their pitches as rapidly as a bird, but it might be worth a try.
For her entire life, Xandra’s defining characteristic has been curiosity; she always wants to know why, or, more often when she was young, why not. In this case, she practiced different noises until she had an entire little language of bird-sounds. She was best at mimicking the birds who had similar tonal qualities to her native voice, but she got very good at making herself understood, particularly since more than half of Fae communication is in the crest anyway.
Alongside her bird tricks, Xandra started her life’s work: Finding a kind of magic that meshed with nature rather than distorting it. Xandra loved the native flora and fauna of the Viridian Labyrinth, and didn’t wish to see them harmed or altered by her powers. This is probably what brought the Fae to the attention of the Gladekeeper when a new clan was being founded.
Since even the calmer parts of our home are hardly what you could call tame, a Guardian named Corbin was chosen to join Xandra and look after her. Corbin, not used to Faes in general and Xandra’s eccentricities in particular, couldn’t understand the bird noises, and would get very impatient with his little companion. For his sake, Xandra started using Common Draconic, though she always struggled with some of the words she wanted to explain more esoteric concepts, because Corbin also didn’t bother to learn the subtleties of Fae body language.
None of us ever knew what Corbin’s charge was; he never said.
(Davorin): Reko, do you want me to tell the rest? I was there, too.
*Reko sighs* No. This is my job, Dav. Thank you, though. I will… try to be more impartial.
*The Speaker takes another deep, calming breath*
At first, it was just Xandra and Corbin, and later their hatchlings. Xandra taught her children, not only about her dream of perfecting Nature magic, but also about the Viridian Labyrinth and all of its wonders. She found Dav first, whose clan had returned to the Sea of a Thousand Currents without him after a hunt.
(Davorin) Accidentally, they said. We still occasionally write letters.
(Reko) More foundlings made their way to the clan, Minoru and I among the first. Some stayed for a long time, mingling with Xandra’s hatchlings, but many more left. The Guardian Dor was the first to challenge Corbin on his authoritarian attitude. Xandra and Corbin’s eldest, Christa, had gone on to serve the Gladekeeper, in no small part because of her father’s harsh attitude, and the clan existed in a constant state of tension. Dor, who had been friends with Christa, said that Corbin was running roughshod over the rest of us, and that Xandra deserved better.
At this point, Xandra barely talked to anyone in any language, choosing instead to concentrate on her research. Yophiel wasn’t yet part of the patrols, so he helped, learning his engineering skills along the way. It was when Rakhan and Kristoff left that our leader finally spoke up. Her sons had been helping with her research and had settled a bit, and losing them so suddenly made Xandra angry.
Her command of larger words in Common Draconic hadn’t gotten much better, but she didn’t need big words to tell Corbin what she thought of him driving off the children. The argument lasted for about three days, off and on, and I’m sure Corbin thought Xandra would get distracted and let it go, but she didn’t.
Corbin didn’t say anything to anyone for about a day, and then he just left. Didn’t talk to anyone, not even Seascape, who he’d just had his last nest with. Xandra, though she hadn’t gotten along with her partner in months, was crushed. They’d founded this clan together, after all, and she thought she deserved more of an explanation, at least.
I took over as Speaker not long after that; Xandra finds hunting for words to be wearying and it reminds her too much of those last, stressful weeks with Corbin. Since she mostly devotes herself to her research, and Elric and her other assistants understand her, it hasn’t been a problem.
*Reko’s voice is gentle, even though it’s clear telling the tale has upset him as well* Never doubt that our clan leader loves all of you. We’re a varied bunch, but we stick together and take care of each other. Besides, how many other dragons do you know who have come up with an entirely new language on their own?
(Ilta) Did you ever figure out what Corbin’s charge was?
(Reko) We have theories.
(Ankuroth) You might as well tell her yours, Reko. It’s not like the rest of us disagree with you, and it might be instructive.
(Reko) *sighs* All right. Ilta, I think Corbin’s charge was to take care of Xandra. Why he chose to go about it the way he did is beyond any of us, but it would explain his sudden departure when she finally lost her temper with him. I don’t know how your charge works, but I’ve been told that a Guardian often dies if they fail to fulfill it. It’s possible that Corbin was, by his own definition, still taking care of Xandra until she told him otherwise. Rakhan and Kristoff weren’t good fighters, and Corbin never understood what it was Xandra was researching. My personal opinion is that he didn’t think he needed to understand Xandra to take care of her.
(Ilta) He was wrong, then. You take good care of her.
(Reko) *shuffles his feet and looks embarrassed while the other elders laugh* Thank you, Ilta. I do try. So. That’s why Xandra chirps instead of talking. Anything else, you’ll have to ask her yourself. We want you to keep asking questions; if we had questioned Corbin sooner, he might have realized that he was not doing his duty as clan co-leader and fixed it rather than having to leave. Thank you for listening to this, all of you.
Below the cut is the story of how he became a Coatl when he was born a Guardian.
It started with a dream. Celsus’s best friend in Clan Sunleaf was a Baku named Sora, who had permission to nibble on the Guardian’s dreams. One day, not long after Celsus met Aphrodisia, the Baku told their friend that his dreams tasted differently. “How so?” Celsus asked, confused.
*You are no longer looking for a charge, but you have not found one,* Sora said, mind to mind as they always spoke. *Now you dream of feathers and magic.*
“Feathers…” Celsus held out his wing, which was smooth. “I did dream that I had feathers, Sora. And magic.” He sighed wistfully. “It was a nice dream. Did it taste as nice as it felt?”
*It tasted odd… Celsus, I don’t think you’re a Guardian anymore.* That got a look of blank surprise from the dragon, and Sora sighed. *Let’s go talk to Reko. Something strange is going on.*
Reko was fairly easy to convince. “You haven’t been acting like yourself at all lately, and you don’t smell right,” the clan Speaker said with concern. “I was going to have Dav take a look at you, but if you don’t think it’s a health thing, maybe we should talk to Xandra instead.”
“Chirp chirp warble cheep?” The Fae clan leader stopped being annoyed at being interrupted from her studies the minute she saw the Guardian; the stripes on his body were faded and his head drooped. “Chirrup?”
“I’m fairly sure it’s not a matter for Davorin, but he is an elder,” Reko answered, and then apologized to Celsus. “Sorry. Xandra says you look peaky.”
“I feel peaky,” the younger dragon admitted. “We can talk to Davorin, but I don’t feel sick, just… too big and…naked. And Sora says my dreams don’t taste like a Guardian’s dreams anymore.”
“Chirrup!” Xandra said imperiously to the Baku, who was hiding underneath their friend. Sora came out and tentatively lifted their trunk. “Cheep cheeple,” Xandra said much more gently, gesturing with one foreclaw to the dream eater.
“We wouldn’t understand one word in three of that, even if you did speak Fae,” Reko said to Celsus. “Let’s have Dav take a look at you while they’re deliberating.”
The clan healer was alarmed when he heard that Sora said that Celsus no longer felt the need for a charge. “That’s not good at all,” the Mirror said, rummaging in his herb pouch. “I think we might need to talk to a spirit healer.”
“Do we have a spirit healer?” Celsus asked, weary.
“We do, actually, Cebrian’s friend Gintare,” Reko said. “I’ll go find her. And probably Cebrian, if it comes to that; he’s a good mage.”
Celsus had gone from weary to alarmed. “I don’t mean to put everyone to all this trouble,” he said, but Davorin shook his head.
“It’s my job to make sure everyone’s healthy,” he said, patting the larger dragon’s foreclaw. “If your Baku friend is worried enough to say something, it’s serious enough to get it taken care of quickly.”
Reko came back with two dragons, Gintare the Amber, and her friend and sometime lover, Cebrian the Ice mage. The Skydancer studied the Guardian solemnly. “You do not look good,” she said finally.
“I don’t…I’m not ill,” Celsus said, starting to become embarrassed by all of the fuss. “Sora just says my dreams don’t taste right and I… I don’t need a charge now.” He shrugged. “Maybe Aphrodisia’s my charge. I love her enough[1].”
“No, we’d be able to tell,” Davorin said, and Gintare agreed.
“He smells off, too,” Reko put in, and then ducked his head when Celsus glanced at him. “You don’t smell sick. You smell… you smell kind of like a Coatl.”
That got Cebrian’s attention. “What? That doesn’t sound right.”
“I’m a Tundra, Cebrian. We know smells.” The Speaker was adamant. “I didn’t want to say anything because he doesn’t have feathers and he’s too big, but…” Reko inhaled deeply. “Magic and still somehow feathers.”
“We smell like magic and feathers,” Cebrian said flatly.
“You currently smell like annoyance and snobbery,” the Tundra retorted. “Look, Cebrian. Celsus smells like magic, feathers, and Celsus. I can’t explain it in words. I’d need another Tundra who understands smells.”
“Oh,” the mage said, mollified.
“Do you feel like a Guardian?” Davorin asked, all four eyes fixed on the younger dragon. “I’ve been told I’m odd for a Mirror, but this is my body and I’m at home in it.”
“You look after the hatchlings and you’re a healer, Dav. That’s more than just odd for a Mirror, trust me,” Reko said, grinning. He sobered as he saw the distraught Celsus. “What’s your answer to his question, Celsus? It’s probably important.”
“It’s definitely important,” Gintare said. She’d lit a stick of incense, some earthy scent that had bitter undertones, and was staring at the Guardian. “Cebrian, I may need my crystals.”
“I’ll go get them,” her friend agreed. He studied Celsus, who was trying not to droop. “Bit dull-colored for a Coatl, though your stomach shows promise[2].” He hummed something in the Coatl language to himself and left to find Gintare’s supplies.
Celsus lay down; as easily the largest dragon there, he felt clumsy and oversized. Realizing this, he answered Davorin’s question. “I don’t feel like this is my body, no. I feel too big, even around Aph, and she’s about ten meters longer than I am. I’ve been having trouble flying, and I keep tripping over things.”
“Hmm.” Gintare’s tone was noncommittal. “Feathers and magic, Reko? You specified Coatl, but,” she held out a wing, “there are more dragons in Sornieth that fit that description than just Coatls.”
“Tundra,” Reko said again, his voice resigned. “I have to simplify when I’m trying to describe smells to you. Coatl feathers also smell like scales, and even Cebrian’s smell faintly like fire.” He shook his mane. “Skydancer feathers smell like feathers and birds.”
“Coatl, then,” the spirit healer said, unconcerned. “That might be tricky, because he is also of the Arcanist’s kin.”
“Well, he’s definitely not a Fae,” Reko said definitely. “If you want to get another Tundra in here to confirm, Gintare, I’m not unwilling. Guarin is good with scents as well.”
“No, I believe you. It’s just very strange,” Gintare said. “How long have you been having dreams of feathers, Celsus?”
“I don’t know. Sora would know better; they know the different flavors of all of my dreams.” The Guardian didn’t lift his head as Reko left to find out whether Xandra was done discussing with the Baku. He was feeling awkward, depressed, and confused.
“You’re going to be all right, Celsus,” Gintare said gently. “This isn’t unheard of, although your case is one of the stranger ones I’ve seen, since it didn’t strike you until you were an adult. You have had no charge this whole time?”
“No,” Celsus said. “It used to make me restless and miserable. I thought it was meeting Aphrodisia that changed it. After all, Baldur’s mate is his charge.”
“But you would have known if it was,” Gintare said, still reassuring. “It is possible that this change occurred earlier and things have just been too hectic for you to notice.”
Reko returned, not only with Xandra and Sora, but also Dor, who was the oldest of Sunleaf’s Guardians. “What’s this about not having a charge?” Dor asked, not unsympathetically. “It took me awhile to find mine, too, you know.”
“I still think you’re lying about what yours is,” Reko said, amused. “He’s not on Search anymore, Dor. It’s odd, I’ll agree.”
“It’s more than odd, it’s unnatural,” the dark Guardian said, and Celsus winced.
Sora turned to stare at the thief, and Dor wilted as the Baku clearly gave her a piece of their mind. “Sora,” Celsus said. “She’s not being insulting, she’s being technical.”
“I still could have phrased that better, Celsus, I’m sorry,” Dor said. “I was alarmed, Sora. I didn’t mean to imply that I was disgusted by your friend. Celsus is my friend as well.”
The Baku snorted, but let the point lie. “I think we need to change him,” Gintare said, making everyone else stare at her. “What? It’s possible; we live in a world of magic, after all.” She shook her head. “It won’t be easy, Celsus, and it will probably hurt.”
Sora voiced his opinion to the Skydancer, and then said to Celsus, *You should do this. It will make things better.*
“Can I talk to Aphrodisia first?” Celsus asked. “I mean, she has a right to know about it, and even if I don’t feel like a Guardian, I don’t exactly feel like a Coatl, and I might change a lot.”
“Of course,” Reko said before anyone else could say anything. “I’ll go get her.”
“Cheep chirp,” Xandra said in amusement, and winged off before the Tundra could reply.
“You have been running around a lot,” Davorin, who could also understand their leader, said with a chuckle. “Let’s clear a space for Gintare to work.”
Gintare’s preparations involved drawing a rune-inscribed circle on the floor; Celsus noticed that the space Davorin had cleared looked like it had been used for such circles before, and the Skydancer put four runes in places where the marks showed they’d been before. “Cardinal marks,” she explained. “Now. You were born in an Arcane clan, yes?”
Celsus nodded, fascinated, as the spirit healer carefully drew the Arcanist’s symbol between the south and west marks. She drew the tree of the Gladekeeper between the north and west. “Your past and, well, technically, your present,” a quiet voice said, and Celsus turned to see Cebrian, who was holding several pouches and carrying a chest. “I brought extra candles; I wasn’t sure if Davorin had all the ones you’d want.” Setting a bundle of multicolored wax down by the Skydancer’s gear, Cebrian added, “This is the complicated part, Celsus. Once she gets done with the runes, we’ll make up a spell bundle, and from there, it’s up to the Gladekeeper.” The Coatl busied himself with a bunch of disparate items, and Celsus angled his head to look.
“I’m sorry; am I blocking your light?” the Guardian asked when the Coatl looked up.
“No,” Cebrian said with a reassuring hiss. “I just didn’t know you’d want to watch.” He gave Reko, who was helping Davorin sort candles, a sidelong look. “Feathers, scales, and bottled bones. An infused crystal to hold the magic, and,” here the mage’s foot-wings twitched sheepishly, “bottled embers and a Firestarter.”
Reko chuckled. “I heard that. My nose is seldom wrong, Cebrian. I may not be the mage you are, but a Tundra knows scents.” He asked Gintare, “How many of each color?”
“Two each pink, green, red, and blue,” the Skydancer replied. When Celsus looked back over, he saw the sign of the Tidelord and that of the Flamecaller. “Guardians originally come from Fishspine Reef, and Coatls are a Fire people, as Cebrian has just been reminded.” She sounded amused, and her friend sighed. “Now. Stones first, then the spell bundle.”
“Can I help with anything?” Celsus asked. “I’m fairly good with my claws and I have an eye for color.”
Gintare smiled. “Actually, yes. Help me pick out the stones. They should be attuned to you anyway, so pick a stone from each pile that feels right.”
She’d separated five piles of stones from the chest and another pile of sacridite from one of the pouches. “This too?” Celsus asked.
“What’s going on?” A new voice entered the conversation as a large, sparkling Imperial poked her head in. “I don’t want to step on anything important, Cel. Maybe you should come out and see me?”
“Go do that first,” Gintare said. “I need to decide which runes I need and Cebrian needs to finish the spell bundle, so you have time.”
As the Guardian passed the Ice mage, Cebrian absently reached out and plucked a tuft of Celsus’s beard. “Ow! Hey!” the younger dragon said indignantly.
“Sorry. Need to make this yours,” Cebrian said.
“Warn him next time,” Davorin scolded. “Guardians are sensitive about their beards. All right, Celsus?” The Mirror had finished with the candles and was getting out of the way himself, along with Reko.
“I think so,” Celsus said. He turned to his mate. “Aphrodisia, um.” Now that it came to be time to tell her, he felt awkward. She loved him, he knew that. “Sora and Reko say I’m not a Guardian anymore, and Gintare says she can turn me into a Coatl.” He nuzzled her. “I’ll be a lot smaller,” he teased uncertainly.
“You haven’t been sleeping well, I know that,” Aphrodisia said, stroking his face with hers. “Reko?”
“He smells like a Coatl, Aph,” the Tundra said gently. “It’s happened before, though it’s usually right after they join a new clan or even just after they’re born. Gintare has done this ritual a couple of times for visitors from other clans who don’t have spirit healers of their own.”
“I will have to trust your sense of smell,” Aphrodisia said, nosing her mate again. “Will it hurt?”
“Yes,” Gintare said plainly from where she was still muttering over her runestones. “But we all believe, including the Baku Sora, that this is necessary.”
Sora, who was fond of Aphrodisia, came over and said something to her that made her sigh and nod. “All right, Celsus. You’re still… we’re still…”
“It will take more than turning into a feathery little nuisance to keep me from loving you,” Celsus said softly, shouldering into his mate so they could snuggle a bit. “You’ll have to be careful not to step on me now, all right?”
“We’re not that small,” Cebrian said, though he sounded amused. “Come on, Celsus. Pick out your stones so we can get started.”
“I am rather large, even so,” Aphrodisia teased back, looming over the Coatl to make her point. “Go pick out your rocks, Celsus. I’ll stay and watch if that’s all right?”
“We’re using all of the sacridite,” Gintare said, answering Celsus’s earlier question. “Pick out whichever of each of the others feels right. Could be one stone, could be five. I don’t think I’ve seen more than five.”
Celsus nodded and carefully settled in front of the piles. “Pink chalcedony for the Arcanist, azurite for the Tidelord, raw jade for the Gladekeeper, and almandine for the Flamecaller, right?” the Guardian asked, and Cebrian nodded.
“The labradorite is for you,” the mage said. “I didn’t know you knew your stones.”
“I… guessed by the colors,” Celsus said sheepishly, and Cebrian laughed.
“Fair enough. Find what you need?”
The Guardian had selected one each of the azurite and the chalcedony, two of the almandine, three of the jade, and five labradorites. “Can I keep this one when we’re done?” he asked, stroking one of the shimmering gray stones, a dark oval with little natural fire.
“We can have Sgaire set it in something you can wear,” Reko suggested, and Celsus nodded. “Are you ready?”
“I…guess so?” Celsus looked over at Aphrodisia, who nodded encouragingly. “I’m ready,” he said in a stronger voice.
Gintare nodded. “This won’t take long,” she said, and Cebrian set his bundle in the middle of the inscribed circle, on top of a large, glowing rune. “This rune centers everything,” the Skydancer said. “Put your stones where I’ve left marks.”
Celsus obeyed, putting the stones on the corresponding colored chalk marks until all he had left was his small pile of labradorite. “Put those beneath the spell bundle, above the grounding rune,” Cebrian said, pointing as Gintare did the same with the sacridite above what she’d called the centering rune. “Good, now hold still. This is probably going to tickle, so try not to fidget.”
The Coatl and his mate carefully painted runes on the Guardian, matching those in the circle, as far as Celsus could tell. It did tickle, but he put up with it stoically. The only time he twitched was when Cebrian used his tail to paint something in the center of the Guardian’s belly. “Sorry,” he said, and Cebrian chuckled.
“You did well. Close your eyes; that will make this easier on you. Gin, we’re ready.”
Gintare started chanting, and Celsus slammed his eyes shut, seeing all of the runes glowing and weird smoky shapes coming up from the spell bundle, which Cebrian had tied off with the cord from the Firestarter. The Guardian smelled feathers and magic again, and Reko was right: there was a smoky tang underneath, or was that just the incense? The others were quiet, even Cebrian, a constant presence at Celsus’s side, did not speak as his friend continued chanting, her voice rising and falling in an eerie cadence.
Celsus recognized some of the words as the names of runes, and an entreaty to the Gladekeeper that he’d never heard before. He started shivering uncontrollably, feeling suddenly cold and naked again. His wings were freezing, and his back feet felt funny.
҉ So, little dragon. You want to forsake your body? There are easier ways than this. ҉
The voice seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and there was a hissing quality to it, like open coals in the rain.
҉ You could just die. That would be easier. ҉
Please, Celsus thought. I would rather not die. He was terrified; they’d mentioned pain, but neither Gintare or Cebrian had said anything about hearing voices or that they would threaten him.
҉ You mistake me, little dragon. That was no threat. That was merely fact. This will not make your life easy. You will have to relearn what it is to be yourself. You might lose what is important to you. ҉
I won’t lose Aphrodisia, and she is the most important, Celsus thought. I won’t lose Sora.
҉ You might. She might lose you. ҉
The voice was dispassionate, as if losing his mate and his love should be of no consequence to Celsus, who began to get angry. Who are you, anyway?
҉ Who you might become. Power. Glory. ҉
I don’t want that. I want magic, yes, but I want Aphrodisia more. If that means I stay unnatural, a Guardian without a charge, then so be it. All I want is to be myself.
҉ You could be more without her. ҉
You’re not me, Celsus thought definitely. Not any form of me. Aphrodisia may not be my charge, but she is my love and Sora is my friend. I will never forget that.
♣See that you don’t.♣
That was a new voice, feminine and amused. Gladekeeper? Celsus thought, awed.
♣Be who you are to become, Celsus, and be well.♣
Pain, then, the worst the Guardian had ever experienced. It felt like a giant hand was tearing him to pieces and putting those pieces back together all wrong. He heard himself scream, and hoped Aphrodisia didn’t try to interfere and that she was all right. “We’re almost through, Celsus, hang on!” Gintare said encouragingly.
The air smelled very strongly of burning feathers, and the pain turned to violent itching, all over Celsus’s wings, which suddenly felt strange and heavy. Then he collapsed to the ground, trembling all over. “It’s done,” Cebrian said, sounding tired. “What in the name of the Gladekeeper was that thing?”
“Malicious fire spirit,” Gintare replied, sounding just as tired. “Like a will-o-the-wisp, only deadly. Are you all right, Celsus? Mind the new tongue.”
Celsus poked said tongue out a couple of times. It was longer, and forked. “I’m…I’m all right,” he said carefully, looking himself over. He was certainly a Coatl, the massive, bulky body turned sinuous and feathery, the webbing behind his feet turned to yet more feathers. “This is different,” he said, hissing on the sibilant.
“Not a bad-looking specimen,” Cebrian teased.
Celsus looked himself over some more. “No… not at all,” he agreed with a slow smile. He turned carefully to the doorway. Aphrodisia was still there; she looked worried, but it didn’t look like she’d gotten too wrought up when he’d screamed. “What do you think?”
“You are certainly smaller,” his mate teased, bending her head down to look at him. “But your eyes are so large and pretty now, and I think I like the feathers.”
“You would,” Davorin said, amused, as the Imperial shook her own feathery wings at him. “Try walking, Celsus.”
Celsus took a few cautious steps. “The foot-wings are definitely going to take some getting used to,” he said, flapping one. “What are they for?”
Cebrian laughed. “They’re to keep you stable in flight. Most of us hover when we can,” he added, lifting off the ground easily. “It’s easier than walking most of the time, and pay no attention to the jealous nellies who call us oversized moths.”
“I called you a hummingbird,” Dor said mildly from behind Aphrodisia. “All color and flappy wings.” The large Imperial moved so the Guardian could come in and have a look at her friend. “Well, it’s different, but it does suit you,” she said reluctantly. “You were a very handsome Guardian, too, though.”
“Yes, he was,” Aphrodisia said fondly. “Now he’s a very handsome Coatl.”
Gintare huffed in amused satisfaction. “If you hear that hissing voice again, Celsus, please let me know. It didn’t exactly intrude on the ritual, and I suspect the Flamecaller will deal with it and we’ll never know what happened, but it never hurts to be cautious.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Celsus said. “Thank you, Gintare,” he added softly. “Do you and Cebrian need help with anything?”
“Not right now, but I’ll keep you in mind the next time I need a favor,” Cebrian replied, grinning again.
Reko sighed. “Cebrian.”
“What?”
“Let Celsus get used to the new body before you start flirting with him,” the Tundra said and Celsus blinked rapidly. “Feel free to tell him to stuff it whenever you want to, Celsus. He’s not that much older than you are.”
Celsus laughed. “All right. Thank you, too, Reko, for taking Sora seriously.” The Baku had been sitting patiently out of the way, watching the proceedings, and the new Coatl aimed a grateful and affectionate thought at his friend, who sent bubbles of happiness back. Celsus looked at Aphrodisia. “Shall we go home? I’m not as tired as Gintare undoubtedly is, but I am tired, and hungry, too.”
“Good thing you didn’t change into a Tundra!” Aphrodisia teased. “We have plenty of seafood at our nest.”
As the two left, Gintare said, “Well, that was much more exciting than it needed to be. I’ve never seen the Gladekeeper intervene, and I’m not sure what would have happened if she hadn’t. Perhaps we should assign Sora or one of his kin to looking at the dreams of the others, to make sure it doesn’t need to happen again.”
Davorin shook his head. “This was a unique case, Gin. I would bet my heat eyes that the fire spirit was responsible for us not noticing sooner; I’ve never seen that much latent magic on a Guardian that young.”
“Likewise, though we might want to have Xandra look into the records and see if she can find anything,” Reko said. “Or Ankuroth might know something. She’s from the Ashfall Waste originally.” He shuffled his wings. “All’s well that ends well, Gintare. The rest of it is up to Celsus, but Aphrodisia will keep him grounded.”
The Skydancer nodded. “Hopefully his new personality doesn’t put her off.” She glanced at her lover and added dryly, “Coatls, in my experience, are a showoffy lot.”
“We are,” the ice mage agreed with a chuckle. “It’s part of our charm. They’ll be fine. It’ll be rough for a bit, then they’ll adjust because they adore each other, and after all, he’s still Celsus, just Celsus the Coatl.”
Hiya! I’m Tindi, and this is my dragon blog. Mostly, we’ll have lore bits that are too long for the site or have to do with more than one dragon, but there will probably also be reblogs and ramble about how RNG is totally the biggest troll ever (it so is).
Let’s let my clan Speaker introduce himself:
“Hello, visitors! I’m Reko, Speaker for Clan Sunleaf in the Shrieking Wilds of Sornieth. Welcome to our clan!
“I’m not going to give you the huge speech; I hate giving the huge speech. Our clan leader is Xandra the Fae, but if you need anything, please ask me. I hope you enjoy the stories we’ll be telling you, and feel free to ask about any of our clan members. We’re a largish clan that lives on the eastern edge of the Wilds, near the coast. If you see the big tree (not the Behemoth; that’s a MASSIVE tree), you know you’re in the right area!”
