Cybele

by ObtuseToast

for as long as she had known, cybele had spent her days in this odd little bower.

she'd never tried to leave, for she was happy and it was beautiful; clear water, seemingly held up by thick, flowering boughs of some sort, formed a dome around her, and colourful sea creatures darted past, occasionally stopping to play with her when she swam up into it. between the two thickest branches, an ornate gate stood, shut tight and unable to be opened from the inside. at night, the moon shone through the water and made patterns on the floor, telling stories of love and hate and war and peace-time.

she'd remember them until a traveler would come by to ask for their fortune, and one of the tales would find its way out of her, and off they'd go, leaving her with their thanks and a promise to return soon, though they never came back. the only company she had was a tiny octopus with the ability to speak, somehow. cybele never knew how it could, but whenever she was lonely, she'd hear its thin, silvery voice inviting her to play. it always sounded like it had secrets,. but it never disclosed any of them, and cybele never asked. she'd know when the right time came.

life was good in her watery little home, and though she often wondered about the world outside, her past, and what purpose she had other than serving others, but they always get pushed to the back of her mind. if she can't remember, then surely it can't be that important, right?

the waves crashed against the sand, drowning out the squeaks of a lone skydancer hatchling. she'd awoken on the beach with no mother, no father, no sisters and brothers to shield her from the cold wind, and panic had gripped her heart. had she lost them? had they lost her? why weren't they here?

as she scrambled clumsily across the sand, her confusion had only mounted. what had become of her family?

cybele didn't have to wonder long. after a tiresome, fruitless search of the beach, one end to the other, the shuffle of paws sounded behind her. it sounded like her father's footsteps, heavy but soft at the same time, and was accompanied by the rustle of feathers.

"why do you wander, cybele?"

the voice was not her father's; it was thin, like the reed flutes her brother always made and their sister always broke, but it was strangely comforting. careful, she turned, tail tucked up close to her in case it was a danger- but there was nothing there save for a curious looking pearlcatcher, cast in peach and melon, his wings throwing shades of orange and green across the sand. he extended a paw to her, and she scrambled forward, not once thinking to question why he knew her name already.

"i'm looking for my family," the hatchling explained, feeling an odd pull on her heart, like she was meant to be with this strange dragon. he gently herded her against his side, and the feeling increased, along with a weightless sort of feeling.

"don't worry," he murmured, tugging her along. "you're safe with me. if you can't find your family, do you really need them? i have a gift for you, cybele, a destiny. won't you follow me?"

she found herself unable to do much more than nod, becoming more and more ensnared in his spell as he continues speaking. he tells her that she's to become an oracle, giving many dragons the answers to their questions and giving them their own destinies. conveniently, the part about being a tribute to a light seer was left out, as well as the part where her own mother had cast her aside when he'd offered to take the hatchling.

off they went, soon settling beneath a copse of thick trees that shielded them from the cool wind that blew over the short grass of the cliff he'd led her to. beneath the dappled moonlight, she drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of soft waves and the story her companion spun for her.

when she awoke once more, it was to the watery world the dragon had spun for her and a new purpose burning in her chest. gone was any recollection of her past; she was just cybele, clad in beach roses and daisies, with stories bubbling in her throat the more she looks at the light that dances over the floor.

perhaps one day she would remember, but for now... she would be content to settle in and tell each tale.

by chimmy