Nightshade

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Sometimes he had nightmares. In his dreams it was dark, and that was comforting, it was always dark for Nightshade. He had been born blind, so the world of sight he never knew, couldn't even begin to imagine. In his dreams he was a hatchling again, his family packed close around him, always within touching distance so he knew where they were. They coddled him, smothered him. He couldn't remember if it had been this bad or if the hazy recesses of his mind made it feel worse, like a pillow being held over his face. Nightshade would push them away, beating them with his wings that they wouldn't let him use.

No flying, that was a rule. A little dragon like him could get hurt, lost, and then where would he be, blind and alone? No going out alone, that was another rule. No going out of earshot of mammy and pappy. No consorting with larger dragons who might injure him by accident. It seemed like his entire life was no. Nightshade resented that.

He was a quiet child, his parents agreed, barely any trouble, they were blessed. He was a quiet child, so when he slipped out in the dead of night, navigating deftly through the lair he knew by feel and time, they didn't even notice he was gone. Outside he proceeded with caution, the immediate area was not new to him but as he got further and further away the unknown loomed like a vast abyss. He kept close to the ground, his wings slightly spread, feeling out what was next to him. The unknown started to become now, and he moved faster as he gained confidence.

Then, without warning the ground beneath him slipped out from under his feet and he fell down into a hole. It was cramped, his wings pressed tightly against his sides and the rich smell of earth senses. It seemed as if the very ground had swallowed him. Nightshade struggled in vain, screeching as loud as he could. In the silences filled with his labored breathing he heard a hiss, and he could hear something moving.

What came next was pain. It flared through him like the sound of a thousand tiny fireworks, popping through his muscles right down to his bones. The pain lasted for an eternity and then it was gone, for a while at least.

His parents were furious. Even though he was sick in bed they berated the young fae, and the feeling of the pillow returned stronger than ever. He had been bitten by an onyx cobra they told him. He was lucky he wasn't dead. Instead he was bedridden with a fever that wracked his whole body, as the toxins were expelled. Over the course of weeks, gem like protrusions began to appear all over his body. He could feel the weight pressing into his scales, pulling down on his wing membranes. His parent's fury turned to worry, and then admiration.

Nightshade became sullen and withdrawn, despite his parent's attempts to turn him into a proper gentleman. He was gorgeous, they told him. Nightshade didn't feel gorgeous, all he could feel was the weight of the gems dragging him down. He itched to pry them off but every time he tried they stuck fast to his skin. They were a part of him now, whether he liked it or not.

The community rallied around him, though to be more accurate, they rallied around his parents. They brought gifts and sang his praises. So lucky, so brave, so beautiful. As the attention intensified so did the rules. They constricted him, no longer like a pillow but a tough rope, or the confines of the tunnel, binding his wings to his sides, trapping his limbs.

One of the gifts Nightshade received was the only thing that brought any relief, a small silver ferret. It stuck by his side and helped him get around, chittering dangers, winding its way around his feet. In the night, he would tell it stories and stroke its soft fur as it slept next to him.

In his dreams, it went on like that forever. The ropes getting tighter and tighter until Nightshade couldn't move, until the sounds of his parents' laughter was only hissing.

He'd wake then, in a new lair and take a walk. He never flew, the gems still clung heavily to his wings. Nightshade would check on the hatchlings, and if any tossed and turned, he would sit by them and sing them lullabies until they returned to sleep.

Long ago, Nightshade had run away from his family for good. The followers of Lilith had taken him in, when he had gotten lost in the Tangled Wood, a place not easy to navigate, even for his ferret. He had been there ever since, but every so often...

He had nightmares.