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Quote:
Seph rarely sleeps. With how diligent of a worker he is, writing straight through the night and thinking frantically even when he has set his scroll down, nobody questions it. Those closest to him worry, of course. The problem is the worry about the symptom and not the cause. Angela may swoop in every once in a while and deliver a curt remark on his sleeping habits, employing her usual tactic of masking concern with sarcasm. Seph rolls his eyes and makes empty promises. She flies away and, once again, he is alone with his work.
In truth, Seph is a dragon who enjoys control over himself. He does not fear sleep. He fears dreams. They curl into his mind and cut out memories that will only serve as distractions, and he does not need that. He would rather stay awake for the rest of his life, yawning and aware, but Angela says that she has no magic that could grant him that. In spite of his desires, the time always comes when it begins to impair his judgement. His knife-sharp mind grows duller, and his retorts become less biting. At this point, he feels his eyes droop close and offers little resistance. He often falls asleep on his desk in the middle of a sentence. On rare occasions, he surrenders willingly beneath piles of blankets.
He dreams. The smell of seawater fills his nose and the gentle waves of the ocean crash nearby. There is laughter all around him. From where he stands on the edge of the deck, the water is green and deep. Their ship is old, but the captain insists that it has character. The first mate just shrugs and says it will get them there. Now he is in the captain’s quarters. She looks at him with piercing blue eyes.
“What is your name?” she asks.
“Seph.”
“Did your parents give you that name?” Her mouth curls into a cruel smile. Seph can no longer hear waves beat against the ship.
“Yes,” he says, feigning confidence. The captain laughs.
“You should give it up. You have lost the rights to that name. That is the name of a prince.”
“But I am a prince,” Seph insists.
“And what a crooked crown you bear,” she says, and her laughter is booming, and her face is melting, and the cabin is on fire. It is hot, scalding even, and Seph can feel his scales melting like glue, even though the flames barely lick him.
He looks up. Maki writhes from within the inferno. Their lair is burning, twisting inside out, and she is the only one still alive. She stares at him in breathless agony.
“A queen should fall with her people,” the raider says. He is massive, a ridgeback with lines of sharpened teeth.
“She doesn’t deserve this,” Seph sobs. “She’s not a queen, she’s a princess.”
“She’s queen now,” he says. They look together into the lair. Maki, for some reason, has not yet died, but the bodies of their parents lay dark and burnt behind her. Seph feels tears burning in the corner of his eyes, but nothing falls.
“There was nothing I could do,” he says in half a whisper.
“You could have stayed.” Seph feels the breath rushing out from his lungs. The fire crawls closer and closer. The raider doesn’t seem to mind, even as it begins to swallow him. “But you ran. You left them alone to die.”
Heat tears into his bone, his very bone, right down to his core. He is turning and turning and turning but there is no clarity, there is no relief. He cannot even bring himself to scream. Right on the brink of death, he feels sudden clarity. Maki stares into the lair. He tries to ask for help, but no words come out. She looks so, so young. Younger than he remembers her being. In his mind, she is a fully grown heiress, proud and strong, but she was just a child, wasn’t she? And she looks so afraid. She runs. Now, Seph screams, and it rips out of his throat like a burst of fire. She left him. His own sister fled as he died. Did the raiders catch her as she ran? Does he hope the answer is yes?
It is so dry. The shifting expanse stretches on for miles and miles and miles, all the same thing over and over. There is a little blue speck in the distance. As it comes closer, he recognizes the shape of a skydancer.
“Angela said you might need some help,” she says. It sounds loud, even though she is distant. “My name is Jiwoo. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Jiwoo is coming closer. She’s larger than he first thought. Two times his size. Three times his size. Standing right in front of him, she is a giant. It is so dry, he thinks again. “Where’s Maki?”
“Gone,” Jiwoo says. “Did you see her die?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her die?” she repeats.
“No,” he admits. “I ran as soon as I saw the raiders. I was afraid.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jiwoo says. “You’ll never see her again, because she doesn’t want to see you.”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“You left first. You left them all. Are you even a prince?”
“Yes, I am.”
“That’s funny,” another voice says, young and curious, “momma told me we had another princess.” The coatl hatchling sways in the grass and watches him with big eyes.
“No, I’m a prince,” Seph says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know, alright? Maki said it was normal. Some dragons are like that.”
“But what will momma think?”
“Who cares what your mother thinks? I am a prince, no matter how much they whine about it! I don’t care if they don’t understand—I understand, and so does Maki, and so do my parents, and that is all that matters.”
“That was good,” Maki says. They lie together in the breeze. A curled oak tree hangs above them, and the sun’s pleasant warmth beats through the leaves. “Don’t let anyone tell you who you are, Seph. That’s something only you can know.”
“Mom says I should stop arguing so much.”
“Mom is a queen and a diplomat. She’s just jealous because she can’t afford to argue.”
“When you become queen, will you be like that?”
“I hope so. She’s a good queen.” Maki looks up at the sky and breathes in. “You’ll have to do the arguing for me, okay, little brother? You’re good at that.”
“I will. Always.”
“But take time to rest, too.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Speaking of rest—rest easy, Maki.”
Maki laughs. “I’m not dead, little brother. We’re just sleeping.”
The sun is bright, and fading. The real world prods at the edges of this fantasy. Seph looks at his sister. “I’ll miss you.” She smiles at him and opens her mouth to speak. Then the sky goes dark.
He opens his eyes. The papers beneath his face are wet with tears, but the memories of the dream are already beginning to fade. Maki was there, he remembers. So was fire. So was a giant. So was the ocean. So was an oak tree. Dreams, Seph thinks, are so meaningless. He dries his face and gets back to work.
