Chapter 3
The saying that things will look better in the morning is a lie told to try and console the worst cases of breaking hearts, and it’s a terrible one at that. Two mornings have come since my failure in morphing and nothing is looking better. I can barely look my parents in the eye, their constant support and words of encouragement making me feel like more of a let down than My brother calls, having managed to find a trace of signal somewhere deep in the snowy mountains he’s made a home, but I can’t even bring myself to talk to him. Something like shame prickles inside of me, despite knowing I didn’t choose to morph into a snake. A small one at that, barely the size of a dragon’s tail.
“Hydra.” The call comes before the knock, so I bury my head under my blankets and pretend to still be asleep when the door opens. “Oh, heavens.” Comes my mother’s hushed voice as the tears burn behind my closed eyelids.
“You should have let them come see her.” My father’s voice joins, and I hear the slap, almost giggling at the thought of my small mother scolding my father like he’s a child.
“Ragna let his son throw away everything because of a misunderstanding. They can rot in their shame until the day Hydra sees fit to visit them.” I frown at my mother’s use of words. There was no misunderstanding about anything. I’m a small insignificant snake and Rancor made his choice. One that broke my heart, but a choice was made.
“There is no way of even knowing if the legend is true.” My father sighs and I almost want to jump up and ask them what the hell they’re talking about. “Maybe we could find away to let Ragna agree to keep his son pure until we prove she is what we think she might be.”
“How would we do that?” I almost hold my breath at the silence that falls as my father thinks about his answer.
“We could take one of his scales.” I sit up straight, completely forgetting that I’m supposed to be asleep, looking straight at my wide-eyed parents. Taking one of a dragon’s scales is the highest form of enforcing a promise. It maims the dragon, and I’ve heard giving one hurts more than being branded, taking one by force leaves a dragon unable to turn back until it’s healed or the promise has been kept and taking a scale from a King dragon is seen as the highest form of treason. Something punishable by death alone.
“You’re not taking the King’s scales. Not for me.” I almost shout, causing them to finally snap out of their shock and move closer to me. “Tell me you’re not serious.” It’s a plea that’s not unnoticed, judging by my mother’s long sigh.
“Of course not. We’re just…” She looks around, as if searching for the right words. “Desperate, I guess. They’re being unfair, allowing their son to throw away your bond. One a priest declared himself.” She huffs, much like a child who’s not getting what they want.
“That doesn’t mean you consider committing treason. They’re doing what they think is best for Rancor, just like you’re doing what you think is best for me by keeping them away.” My mother bussies herself with opening my curtains, like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
“We just don’t like seeing you like this, pebble.” My dad walks over to the bed, taking a seat by my side. “You’re everything we’ve ever dreamed you would be. I gave my birthright to you because I knew you’d be a great ruler one day.” I look down at my blankets, a little ashamed of the reminder of the right bestowed upon me. How am I meant to be a warrior when I can’t protect anyone. What good is a snake form in the midst of powerful dragons carrying the elements in their skin?
“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.” I whisper, unable to keep the tears at by. My father makes a pained noise and hugs me tight to his chest and there I cry. I cry for the little girl inside me that had hopes and dreams, for the future I only caught a glimpse of and for the one I am unsure of how to live now. I cry for the broken bond of a Kin, because I don’t want to waste away without him and mostly because a best friend broke something inside of me, I don’t know how to fix by myself. I cry until I’m all cried out and my parents tuck me back into bed.
When I wake up again it’s dark outside and my head feels heavy. I find myself standing at my window, looking at the moon that’s started her disappearing act again and wonder if maybe I should do the same. My parents’ words run through my mind and while I know they’re not that stupid, I think over my life and realize they’ve always been there to fix anything before I could even feel the effect of the loss or the brokenness. It’s a suffocatingly charmed life to live, one that doesn’t allow me to grow strong by myself. For all the lessons on life they’ve taught me, they haven’t allowed me to use what I’ve learned and it’s for that reason that I find myself packing the largest duffle bag I can find. I break out my emergency pouch, one Rancor convinced me to pack when we were sixteen and planning to run away from home. We never got that far but now I’m glad I never unpacked it. The cash and fake ID might come in handy.
I take my first shower in three days and by the time I step out from under the stream I feel and look better than I did before my disaster of a New Moon Ceremony. The house is quiet as I pack my car, glad I keep it parked outside most of the time. I contemplate staying as I write my parents a letter explaining that I need to do some growing up, without them, as much as I love them. As the engine purrs to life underneath me I stare at my home one last time. Knowing my parents will be heartbroken if I’m gone in the morning almost cripples me into staying but knowing I’ll be trapped here if I don’t leave is enough to put the car into drive and force myself not to look back.
I don’t breathe properly until I reach the freeway, knowing I’m leaving behind a life that’s shaped and formed me into the girl I am today. I take a random exit, the moon big and bright in front of me as I run toward a life that I’m unsure of. One that I have to form for myself and as the distance between me, my home and everything I hold dear in life grows bigger I make a promise that I’ll take all the risks I’ve always been too afraid of taking.