The First

"We always spoke without words. It was a language I had used for as long as I can remember. Our kind, we spoke through our eyes, through our teeth, our ears, and our bodies. It wasn't complex like that of the storytellers, but I understood them both equally. It was only the sensations of recollections like dreaming or embedded emotions that came with being able to understand and speak their tongue that made everything complicated. Our kind is simple, relying only on instinct and wild perception to survive, but I was not like my kind.

I was born different from my brothers and sisters. Not deformed or sickly as most often were. I learned at a very young age just how different I truly was when what I could do could not be done by my family or anyone that remained. I could understand the language of 'otherworldly things' and could even talk back in their tongue. Mother often looked down upon me whenever I did not behave like a cub should. Those eyes would speak of uncertainty and rarely were warm when they looked down at me. And during our travel through the mountains, I started whispering in tongues at a stone carving I had found shrouded in withering dark vines with this strange discoloration that covered its face. It was a beast I had only recalled in my dreams, and I mumbled a memory of it's words that Mother had heard and didn't like. Her snarls embedded a fear within me and I never spoke like that in front of her again.

'Bad thing' those snarls would mean to me, and her eyes shown a fear I've never seen before in my mother. And seeing her so afraid made me fearful too, but I was very young then, so I never understood what she truly was afraid of. Not until I met Them."

The cavern walls echo a low rumble coming from far beneath the earth as another tremor hits. It rattles the bones in my body causing me to stumble over and I slip in through a crack in the rocks. It's so quick the air in my lungs seizes all sound as I make harsh contact with a smooth stone floor.

Terror spikes through me at the realization that the falling rocks could very well smash through the crevice concealing me and I'd be gone. Darkness floods my vision and the rumbles grow softer, less alarming than before.

"I told you never to come back here, " he sighs.

I try to look around to make out anything, but all I see is blackness, "Where are you? I can't see anything."

There's a flicker of blueish light illuminating in front of me slowly. Beneath it is a hand like that of the ones painted on the cave walls. The firey light grows brighter until I can see the walls, my own paws, and their face filling with the same glow in the dark.

I lock eyes with them, mesmerized by how strange they shimmer. They're shades of colors I had never seen on any eyes before in real life. I've only ever seen them in my dreams, and now that I think about it, could this very well be another one of those dreams? My heart falls into a calmer rhythm the deeper I sink back into thought.

"You called me a storyteller before, where did you learn that word?" His voice snaps me out of my subconscious and I blink twice.

"In a dream, " I answer softly and look back at the flame breathing in his palm. It doesn't burn but the warmth is still there, a comforting touch.

"You have dreams?"

I smile hearing the curiosity in his voice, "Yes, don't you dream?"

He slouches but never looks away, "No. I never sleep."

"But aren't you tired?"

"Always."

"So, why don't you sleep if you're always tired?"

His eyes suddenly seem far away, his expression worn and pained, "If I sleep, bad things will happen, and when bad things happen they'll never leave my mind."

"Sort of like a nightmare?" I ask and his mood turns grim. His gaze finds it's way back at me, the light in his eyes snuffed out almost completely, and he exhales a shaky breath.

"If nightmares could breathe like you and I and exist outside of your head, little cub, then yes. I am flooded with nightmares."

The blue flame in his palm dims, altering somber colors that reflect the expression on his face. I frown as the warmth retreats slightly.

Moving closer, I wedge myself between his arms and make myself comfortable curling up on his lap. The scent of wet earth and rock so fresh fills my nostrils. It's nothing like the outside. I place my paw on top of his hand where the flame still gleams over the skin clinging to life. The feeling is warm like a breath and hums softly like a heartbeat. I look up to find him watching me intently and the darkness blocking his eyes soften enough that they shimmer again.

"It's alright to be afraid. I'm scared too, but I'm here now and we have each other. I'll keep the nightmares away if you promise to tell me stories from the before."

He sighs again, "I told you I am not what you think I am."

"Then can't you tell me stories anyway? It can be about anything, just until I fall asleep? Please?" I plead with pouting eyes while he stares back deep in thought.

When he doesn't respond for a long time I begin to worry he won't respond at all. I look away while removing my paw from his hand in defeat, but I can't bring myself to move off his lap. The scent is too comforting to leave.

Then the fire goes out, leaving me as blind and helpless as an infant. I stiffen at first even after he lifts me up to hold me in his arms. I hear a swoosh sound before feeling a cooling wind wrap around us both until more blue light fills my vision. I gasp at the chasm below gradually getting closer, heaving with giant crystals glowing fluorescent hues of blue and starlight. Every nook is pure crystal reflecting our descent at every angle. I see his wings, an exact resemblance of the night sky fastened into each feather, move gracefully with the air as he brings us both down.

"Do you know why you should never walk in the room of glass?" he begins while spreading his wings wide as he stood us both in front of a large smooth crystal mimicking our movements exactly.