Elderberry

Tests Of Many

Elderberry found himself being tested time and time again. For his etiquette, his strength, and, most commonly, his patience. On the side, though, in his few free moments, he enjoyed running tests, chemical ones.

Science was never really important to any of his royal relatives, apart from a distant cousin, Fingunt, whom he decided to share a clan with. Together, the pair did many experiments (though if you asked Elderberry, his cousin was far too focused on his molds).

Elderberry had one solid goal in his mind during these tests, however. He wanted to find a way to live forever. Many had tried, all had failed, but that wouldn't stop Elderberry.

After all, what's the worst that could happen?

~ ~ ~

Elderberry and Fingunt rushed around the shared lab. Normally on a day like this, they would be writing letters to the court, or even attending a meeting, but there was something much more important.

Elderberry believed that he’d found a way to be biologically immortal. The cousins had run tests together on various animals, and today they were doing their first dragon test. Fingunt had offered, but they both knew that Elderberry wasn’t letting anyone try before himself.

A vial bubbled, and the Fae rushed to grab it. He poured it onto a scroll, and soon words of an ancient, long forgotten language appeared, and the gray runes on his scales shifted to match.

“I think we’ve done it, Fingunt,” Elderberry said, nearly whispering. It felt as though if something was too loud it could destroy it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the older Pearlcatcher asked, “Immortality
is. . . a lot, and what if it goes wrong?”

“It won’t go wrong,” the Fae declared. Scales met parchment, and a blast of smoke blew the small dragon back. He was only barely able to make out the scroll burning away before the smoke filled the entire lab.

. . .

When the smoke cleared, Elderberry instantly knew that something was wrong. His wings and fins felt too large for his body, his teeth felt too small, and when he opened his eyes, his vision was clearer than it’d ever been since he was a. . .

“No,” he muttered, only somewhat registering that his voice was higher than normal. He grabbed the first reflective surface he could find, an old beaker, and confirmed his suspicions.

He’d been reverted back into a hatchling. An older hatchling, sure, but still very much a hatchling. “Fingunt!”

The Pearlcatcher shot up nearly immediately. Nothing seemed to have happened to him, and Elderberry caught himself being relieved before the situation fully sunk in.

“What happened, exactly?” Fingunt asked. If he was worried, he was hiding it very well.

“I. . .” Elderberry swallowed. “Don’t know.”

. . .

A few weeks had passed, and it was becoming clear that Elderberry was not changing anytime soon. When he was a (real) hatchling, he’d grown very rapidly, now he looked identical to how he did that first day.

He was pleased that his experiment had worked, albeit a bit differently than expected. Over time, he started to get used to his smaller size, and even found that it was easier to do lab work.

Although, he realized that being reverted back into a child had some drawbacks on the mental side. It was harder to contain his emotions, and he was much more prone to outbursts (it was not fun to clean up the lab after he’d learned the whole story about his father). Fingunt was always patient with him, and he couldn’t tell if he liked or hated it.

He’d also explained the situation to the Court (he left out the mental side of it, out of fear that they would decide to remove him). Thankfully, none of them pressed too hard, and it was a bit fun to have all of his various relatives dote on him like when he was younger.

So while Elderberry would never really say that he was happy he’d been transformed, he certainly wasn’t all that upset, either.