I Am My Own

“So, what’s your name, little one?” Menoetius asked as they trudged through the pines. Snowflakes fell softly across the isle and covered their path in a sparkling powder.

“Haven’t decided. But…I think I’m a boy! Just like you,” the hatchling replied. Both he and Menoetius had feasted during the hunt and brought back ample supplies for the hatchery guards. Since the two new companions followed them closely, Marshasp didn’t hunt anything of his own. He didn’t want to reveal his species so quickly, even if the chances of a person knowing about Quetzalcoatl were slim.

The kirin held his head high, clearly proud that he had become a role model to another dragon. Where Iapetus was perfectly at home sitting on his dragon’s back, Marshasp walked beside. “Do you ever use your dragon?” the Tsotska asked.

Marshasp shook his head. After their last conversation, he regretted asking him for help in the first place. “And I never will.”

Iapetus sighed. “Don’t you realize what that’s doing to your dragon? He picked you because he wanted to work with you. I want to clear something up fast—the biggest misconception you seem to have—about dragons. You can’t remove that bond. It’s there to stay, and if you try to break it, your little one will certainly die.”

The Quetzalcoatl grumbled. “Maybe you were raised like that, but second bonds can always be broken. If you don’t know how to do it, then I’ll find someone else.”

“It’s not a second bond, you fool.” Menoetius stopped and growled at him. It was a strange noise, coming from something that resembled a deer, but it unnerved him anyways. In response, his hatchling growled back and shook his scales again.

Iapetus comforted his kirin with a pat on the neck. “There are some things you don’t need to learn. When a Rider dies, so does their dragon. When a dragon dies, the Rider feels it. Dragons are born dependent on their Riders, and severing that connection is the same as killing them. You’re standing there telling me you want him to die. Even thinking such a thing can cause your dragon to wither from distress. It’s a disgrace.” He pointed at the hatchling. “If you care anything for that dragon—and surely you do, if you haven’t hurt him outright—then you’ll let him live as long as you.”

How could he argue with a lizard indoctrinated into such a belief? Marshasp kept his lips sealed. The hatchling was not his, no matter what sort of customs this place had. He was a temporary ward, nothing more. Even if it was true, that a species would be bred to rely on others to this extent was horrifying in its own way. His dragon was far more interested, expressing a bit of worry, but also sending an excited emotion. “See? I’ll stay with you, because you’re the Rider I chose. I’ll be beside you for as long as I live.”

Before he could chastise the dragon for the private words, Iapetus brought them to the entrance of a cavern. Mists swirled around inside and shrouded the distance. Trees stretched throughout, their branches intertwined in odd shapes and patterns. Though the entrance was a cave, it clearly went deeper than it should. “It’s my den.” Iapetus explained.

“It’s the Chronoscape,” Marshasp replied.

The Tsotska chuckled. “In a sense. I commissioned a little instance from a metal Rider. It has one entrance and one exit, and I only show it to a few people. Consider yourself lucky. I can teach you properly in here, where no one else can bother us.”

The hatchling quickly hopped in, leaving Marshasp no opportunity to decline the suspicious invitation. Menoetius and Iapetus trudged through without looking behind. “Come on. He’ll tell us about dragons like me.”

The first thought he sent was tentative—would it even work? Would the hatchling hear him? Marshasp had to try. The last thing he wanted was more chastising from the Tsotska if he said it out loud. “I don’t want to know anything about them.”

He felt sadness flow from the dragon. “But I do. I only know what you know.”

It hardly felt like a choice when the hatchling itself was oblivious to the circumstances. “Only this once. Then we’ll find someone who’s actually useful.” He stepped out of the chilly mountain island and into the warm humidity of the den. Behind him, the sun started to set and the tide pressed in.