I feel the wind brush softly against my scales, my wings shifting with a quiet rustle. I stretch out long and slow, my fangs gleaming, my claws sinking just a little into the warm rock beneath me.
I feel peaceful. I feel still. No need for words, no need for more. I just am, and it’s enough. The sun, the sky, the quiet hum of the world around me. And for now, that’s all I need.
But then, my gaze drifts. Far in the distance, a mountain looms, its peak wreathed in swirling clouds. The sun hangs low, its warmth fading, slipping away like a sigh. Is it ending? Or simply moving on, leaving this part of the world behind? The mountain is dark -dark as my own scales- but I do not fear it. I rise, my tail swaying behind me, my wings unfurling with quiet determination. My claws scratch lightly at the stone beneath me, a small, grounding gesture.
It feels strange to fly toward an end without knowing what that end is. The mountain? The world? This life? Does it even matter? The galaxies spin on, the constellations burn bright, even if a single star flickers out. What am I but one small spark in the vast dark?
I leap. My wings cut through the air, carving shadows into the fading light. I need to hurry, I have been for too long and now life has caught up with time. I race the sun, race the stars, race my own stretching shadow toward the mountain. My muscles burn, my breath comes hard, foam flecking my maw as I reach its base. The peak still glows, defiant in the gathering dark. Time lingers here, clinging to the last embers of light.
I step inside. The cavern is a dazzling mirror of the dying sun, its light pooling across obsidian walls, painting them in reds and golds. I shake my head, the weight of my horns a familiar comfort. But I don’t have the light for this. Not yet. Not now.
At the heart of the cavern, nine altars stand in a circle, each carved from black stone, each glowing faintly with its own hue. Eight of them cradle spheres of matching color. The ninth is empty. Dark. Like the mountain. Like me.
My body locks in place. Death claws at me, sudden and sharp. My muscles weaken, my claws turn brittle, my vision blurs. My wings feel useless, heavy. I know this place. I know what it asks of me. I remember the words spoken centuries ago, the bargain struck, the price of the fire and life returned to me.
The Eight have given. Have waited. And now, they demand.
But not now. Not here. Not in the middle of this journey, this life I’ve chosen to live. Let me have the fire a while longer. Let me feel the happiness, the pain, the yearning, the love. I chose to be here. I chose to become. Let me finish this time. Let me live it.
The light in the mountain is fading. I take a step back. My tail lashes in anger, in fear. Another step. The shadows deepen. I can’t stay. Not yet. Not like this. I tear my eyes from the empty altar and run, wings pressed tight to my body, head and horns aligned with my neck like an arrow. The cavern mouth looms ahead, the sky beyond it a promise of escape. I burst free.
The constellations blink into view as I launch myself into the open air, my wings catching the wind, saving me as they always have. I am free again. For now.
I glide among the stars, weightless, unbound. No responsibilities. No promises. No regrets. Just the endless sky, the quiet beauty of it all. I have escaped before. I have awakened. And until time catches up with life, I will keep flying.
I will enjoy this. Every moment. Every breath. Every beat of my wings against the dark.
Note
The story you have just read is a visual thought process that made it easier for myself to understand the results of a meditation.
The realization during and after the meditation is interpreted as confirmation that I was never meant to be here on Earth, this awakening is actually an escape from possible responsibilities. After what happened in Chronicles Pt. IV, there was supposedly an agreement made with the Eight. One that might not have been clear on my end. And at the end of that life as a dragon, as described in The Black Constellation, I ascended and joined the astral realms, the celestial skies. And in doing so, I was also meant to join the Eight.
Instead of joining in their goal, I managed to evade them and roamed around in the astral realms before ending up here on Earth. Which explains, to me, why I still remember being human before my awakening and why I have always been so skeptical of this experience, as mentioned at the end of The Dyad Dragon.