Deanna's Country Home Summer 4058
"G-ma! G-ma!"
Elena came running into the house, her summer dress a lovely shade of green with little purple flowers fluttering at her knees.
"Elena, stop running," Noella called as she stepped inside.
"Mother," she added with a small sigh when she saw me in the kitchen.
I shook my head, smiling. "Oh, let her play, Noella. She's five. The floor will survive."
"Thank you again for watching her, Mother," Noella said as she moved toward the door.
"Have a good time, honey!" I called after her.
She needed the break. A vacation with Brantley was just what the doctor ordered. I'd only met him once, when Elena was born—quiet, respectful, sea-weathered. Worked on a ship, spent most of his time at sea. But he made her happy. That was all that mattered to me.
What this meant, of course, was that I got to spend the whole summer with Elena.
"Elena," I called.
"In here, G-ma!" came her sing-song voice from her room.
"Come help me pack a picnic. We're heading up to the cliff."
Like a wild horse, she came barreling down the hall, arms flailing with delight.
"What will we pack, G-ma?" she asked, breathless with excitement.
I tapped my chin. "Hmm… Chicken sandwiches and cookies. Maybe some tea."
We packed the basket together, her little hands snatching things a moment before mine could reach them.
"What's this?" I asked, pulling out a third sandwich I hadn't made.
Her eyes went wide. "It's for the dragon!" she declared, eyebrows high, voice full of wonder.
I smiled softly. "Maybe I'll leave it on the bench for Sigmon... after we come back down."
I grabbed my walking staff, and Elena grabbed hers.
"Look, G-ma! It's right where I left it!" she beamed, lifting it from the tall grass beside the porch.
I smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Of course it is, silly. Who would've moved it?"
She giggled and started to sing as we began up the mountain trail. The sun was bright, and we kept a modest pace. When we reached the stone steps, she bounced ahead, hopping from one to the next like some kind of mountain goat.
"Careful, Elena," I called, trying not to sound too much like her mother.
"Yes, G-ma," she replied, her voice sing-song and full of mischief.
At the top of the cliff, the old apple tree greeted us with the soft rustle of leaves. The bench was still there, carved and worn smooth by time. We set the basket down beside it.
I turned to her with a knowing smile. "Alright… do you remember the sword dance?"
She grinned and twirled the staff in her left hand, then kicked the bottom up and caught it cleanly in her right.
"I'm ready, G-ma."
We began with a figure-eight movement, the staffs sweeping in mirrored arcs. Then we flowed into a behind-the-back spin, shifting our stances in sync before moving into a downward rowing block.
"Remember, Elena," I said, adjusting her elbow with a gentle touch, "move like water flows… and wind through trees."
"Yes, G-ma," she said with a little grin, eyes focused. "Like water flows."
I watched her move, graceful in her own wild way. The staff was still too big for her, but the rhythm was there. The memory was forming.
In a few more summers, we would trade the staff for a sword—and she would be ready.
One day, this dance would mean more to her than she could possibly know.
We sat on the bench beneath the apple tree, the wood warm from the sun. Elena tucked her staff across her lap like a knight at rest, legs swinging off the edge, not quite reaching the ground.
She leaned her head on my shoulder. "G-ma… tell me what happen to the dragons?"
I smile, brushing a lock of raven black hair hanging in front of her eyes to behind the ear. "Let me see…" I began my tail with a Mysterious voice, "
In the land of Werestria, before the shadow fell, the skies knew no fire. Dragons and Humans and all manner of magical beings lived in peace. The land was united and thriving. One day, the sky was a blazed with fire as a meteor struck the land splitting the world into three. Algoldena to the east, Kiljoren to the west and Rokorega to the south. In the first few years after the meteor strike, the magic started to disappear.
Favein, once noble count, sought power above all else. He corrupted the Spear of Wisdom, twisting its powers and stripping humankind of their free will turning them into soulless puppets to do his bidding and conquer all of Werestria."
"G-ma what is free will?" Elena asked
"It is when you get to choose what to do without being told what to do." I answered giving her a minute to process before I continued.
"For fifty years, fire rained upon the kingdoms of humans and dragons alike. Blood turned the rivers red, oaths were broken and children vanished into shadows. It was Favein who turned the red dragons against the crown. He who shattered peace for the promise of dominion.
In the 99th year after the meteor strike, it was love and not war that defeated him. One night when Favein held a banquet in which he planned to marry Queen Akassa. Queen Akassa the great dragon queen along with Consano her human consort, conspired to retrieve the Spear of Wisdom and kill Count Favein.
Consano gave his life while piercing Favein's heart with the very scepter he once used to enslave mankind. Consano's power broke the spell. Queen Akassa, rose from the ashes and declared the war over with her hands still slick with blood.
She cast her decree: "No dragon shall ever again rule man's soul, nor shall their fire light the halls of men."
Queen Akassa shattered the Scepter of Wisdom into five shards and reforged them into swords; each a vessel of truth and power. These five swords were entrusted to ten human guardians, their identities hidden even from one another. Each was paired with a dragon protector, sworn to uphold the balance but forbidden to touch the blades. For even a righteous dragon could be tempted.
To safeguard the future, the white dragons of Erdogan cast a veil spell across all the lands of Werestria, erasing dragon kind from human memory. For what Favein had done, no penance could ever restore their place.
As the veil sealed over the realm, the Great White Dragon of Erdogan,
Aeltheryn the Veilcaster, spoke his final prophecy:
Two shall rise who bear the mark,
In a cycle broken, born anew.
Two shattered lines shall weave as one;
And through them, harmony shall rise.
Should they choose love, forgotten truths shall bloom.
Should they choose fear, the world shall burn.
As Aeltheryn drew his final breath, the chosen Guardians fell to their knees, crying out in pain as their flesh burned and the Guardian Mark was seared into their skin and was revealed for all to see.
From that moment forward, the Guardian's Mark would pass through their bloodlines, binding their descendants for all time.
This became known simply as The Rokojoh Ritual, a moment of fire and soul-binding that would pass through the ages.
No scroll could contain its pain. No magic could undo it."
I smiled and looked at Elena who was sleeping, I would have to wake her to head back down the mountain.