Chapter 14 - Bonnie

It's minute, it's trivial, I heard Vlachy say. But it is not a minute, trivial problem to me. It is not a minute ask, and if they indeed insist on their madness, on their claim that I was born on the seas and not in the stars, I would go along with it as long as they served my purpose.

Without devouring the dragon's heart, my brother would fluctuate between liquid, dust and solid flesh until the last atom was burned from his body and he would be returned to the skies where he was born.

That was my reasoning behind non-belief.

We were one, Areilycus and I. Created together from the same dust of a dying star. If he was born up there, formed from the molecules of the universe, the stuff of life, that I must have been as well. 

There was only one thing the Assigner did right in his miserable existence - creating Ari. Perhaps he thought he held dominion, sovereign dominion over the stars because if he could create something so pure, something so good, then there must have been some of that good inside him too.

The White Snake would never admit Ari was a fluke. A lucky fluke influenced perhaps by the love Vectra bore him, some of that love poured, spilled over into the creation process of the White Snake.

Maybe that was how the Divine truly came to life. That was how the protectors of Tripolis fared against the evil inside the White Snake.

We offset it with Vectra's unbinding love for the Creator. 

I often wondered if he knew how deeply her loyalty for him ran. Like a golden vein to be mined for eternity, without end, tirelessly, Vectra would love the White Snake and he would use her in return. 

Her abilities, her sensibilities, her leadership. 

I was fine with it all.

Until the Snake decided to end my Ari's life.

Now, I would end his.

I would end the Vlachy and the city port of Aazor if it came to it. I would challenge the Queen of the Twelve Seas and squash her kingdom, dry out her oceans and carve out the hatchling dragon's heart from its chest with my nails. 

Ari would live. The Light would live.

That was my job, after all, wasn't it?

To bind the chaos of the storm to myself so that others could live free of it.

*** 

We were integrated into their society, we blended like it was nothing. We were supposed to be safe. 

Salacia could not set foot on land, but she still could unleash hellish rain on the port city, and it was all it took for the common folk to curse the Vlachy into the ground - those traveling bastards, those witch-bloody, cursed white devils. 

No witch with alabaster skin could bring anything good to the sailors. 

Soilen dressed me in their attire, hid the expanse of my hair in a golden hairnet and sow skirts from Taileen grass - the blade grass that blossomed around the lake where we lived during negotiations. 

But those negotiations with the witch mother, Rhona, only soured as the time progressed.

"I would not, not in this life or the next, help the bitch queen walk the land that belongs to us."

Ari spent all his time by the water, conjuring the spirit of light and purifying it for drinking as payment for our stay. They no longer had to walk several clicks to get water from the forest well. 

The dragon - Bonnie he named it - kept him company while my brother's golden heart liquified inside his chest - slowly, agonizingly so - poisoned by the radiation of the storm. 

But the worst days were the days when Volmira and Ros tried to take ma back to Millenia. 

Those days we fought, ugly and bitter, sometimes using our powers and tossing one another into the lake, attracting the fishermen's and sailors' attention, which the Vlachy did not appreciate.

And Mother Rhona … she could not convince me I was of their blood.

No more than I could convince her to take the 'bitch queen's' proposal. 

They hated Edward enough to banish him to sleep on his ship, yet not enough to condemn him to Salacia's brutal mercy. 

Which in her vocabulary meant death. 

The cool evening breeze carried the scent of wildflowers as I made my way down to the shore of the silver lake, where the still waters mirrored the softening sky. Areilycus sat there, his silhouette outlined against the shimmering surface, with Bonnie, his pet dragon, curled up in his lap like some fantastical cat. The sight would have been comforting if not for the weariness that weighed on my bones.

"Ari," I began, my voice barely rising above a whisper, "I'm tired. I want to go home."

He looked up, and his gaze softened when he saw me. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, no trace of the solemnity that had painted his features moments before.

"Mila," he said, the sound of my name in his voice like a warm embrace, "you look...beautiful."

My cheeks flushed with an involuntary warmth as his eyes traced over me. He wasn't just looking; he was seeing me, every part of me, draped in the traditional Vlachy clothes that somehow felt both foreign and like a second skin. The golden hairnet that held back my locks allowed a few rebellious strands to frame my face, while the skirts, vibrant with hues of emerald and sapphire, swirled around my legs with each gentle gust of wind. But it was the open white shirt, revealing more of my breasts than the Vlachy's propriety would dictate, that seemed to capture Ari's attention most.

His eyes lingered there as tension bubbled up inside me, thick and sweet as honey, curling around me until it spilled over to him. 

I should have felt exposed, vulnerable even, under such scrutiny, but instead, there was this overwhelming sense of being desired. It was as if his gaze alone adorned me with worth, with significance.

I understood what it meant to be cherished beyond measure, to feel right in someone's world when everything else seemed so utterly misplaced.

The silence stretched between us, a taut string quivering with the weight of words unspoken. I broke it, my voice softer than I intended. "You never tell me I'm beautiful," I said.

Ari's gaze shifted away from mine, finding solace in Bonnie's shimmering scales. He stroked the dragon gently, eliciting purrs that rumbled like distant thunder. Tiny wisps of smoke curled into the air as if to signal - mirror Ari's growing restlessness. 

I could sense his shame, the way his touch on Bonnie became a confession.

"We are one," he murmured, laced with an aching tenderness. "Father would..." His words hung suspended, unfinished, as if saying them aloud might solidify his fears.

But I couldn't let him continue, not this time. Anger and frustration rose up within me, a molten core threatening to erupt. "He is NOT our Father!" 

I burst out, my voice echoing off the surface of the lake, scattering birds from the nearby trees.

Bonnie fluttered her wings uneasily.

Ari rose, the baby dragon swiftly taking flight to find refuge on his shoulder, its protective instincts as clear as the crystal waters we stood beside.

"You named him that. You named us family," Ari said, his eyes searching mine for something I wasn't sure I could give.

I stood defiant, my resolve hardening like the ancient stones beneath our feet. "I was trying to make sense of my identity," I told him, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside me. "We are not family, we are..."

Ari's expression softened, and he looked at me with a mixture of confusion and longing. "We are what?"

For a moment, I wavered, caught in the depth of his gaze. Maybe it was all a lie, like mother Rhona says. Perhaps I was just a descendant of the Vlachy, made anew by the Creator. But Ari... Ari was not. He was of the stars.

 "We are different," I whispered.

With a heart heavy as lead, I turned to leave, stepping away from the lake's edge and the brother—or not brother—that I had known all my life.

But before I could retreat into the solace of my misery, Ari's hand shot out, grasping my wrist with a strength that belied his usual gentleness. He spun me around, pulling me close until our foreheads touched, and his warm hands cradled my head.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed, his breath hot against my skin. "I don't know how not to feel this horrible feeling."

A mirthless laugh escaped my lips, and I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of his golden hair slipping through my fingers. "Why do you think love so horrible?"

"Because it feels horrible," he said, his voice breaking with the weight of his hidden agony. "Like I'm burning from the inside out, like the light I am supposed to be providing to Tripolis is only there when you are near. Without it, I'm nothing, I'm not the Lord of Light, I am not a servant of the Assigner, I am a drifter, a pariah of the universe, belonging nowhere, having nothing."

 A pain I too had felt but never dared to name. 

"When you figure it out, I'll be here," I promised, leaving him there, waiting for the sunrise for hours on end. 

*** 

We never slept. Sensitives were gifted with the power of the stars. We never rested, we never stopped emanating energy until time would come for us like it came for everything else. 

Our beds in the Millenia weaved from stardust softer than hair, silkier than scobs from the Great White Lilac growing in the mountains of Tripolis, were purely decorative. 

Meant for pleasure, meant for contemplation and prayer to Father Time to stop running, to stop coming for us, knowing only the Creator had the power to give life.

And take it. 

During prayer, we prayed to time, but it was really his partner, the Assigner, his only companion time lended its eternal friendship. We could never demand it of him directly, but to ask the concept as elusive as time … 

We were immortal, like stars.

Until we were not. Like stars. 

I couldn't sleep. 

The Vlachy sleep under the stars, our vardos circled like wagons of old, a tradition unbroken since the days of the great exodus. Yet, tonight, as I lay restless upon my straw mattress, all I could think about were eons of repressed affection from Ari.

He had never dared look at me the way he did tonight.

The beast he kept as a pet, that damned creature with eyes like molten silver, watched us with an unnerving intelligence. It was as if it knew something had shifted within Ari, awakening a dormant yearning that now clawed at his restraint.

I was confused. Because... because I did love him.

With a fervor that consumed my every thought. The desire was overwhelming, insane, like a dam burst open, flooding the barren lands of my heart with forbidden emotions. It was like a snake regrowing its venomous teeth after being defanged—dangerous and exhilarating all at once.

Within the cramped confines of my vardo, which I shared with Soilen and her three children, I tossed and turned.

Ari's touch still lingered on my skin, a ghostly caress that taunted me.

"Get some rest," Soilen had murmured before she drifted into her dreams.

As the hours crawled by, I realized that sleep would not come. The moon hung heavily outside, casting beams of light that seemed to mock my plight. I needed to escape, to breathe, to find solace away from the suffocating closeness of the vardo.

With a sigh, I slipped out from beneath my blanket, careful not to disturb Soilen or the children. My bare feet touched the cool earth as I stepped outside, enveloped by the night. The stars above blinked indifferently at my chaos.

In the darkness, I stood alone, grappling with the revelation that had been thrust upon me. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, but one thing was clear: the feelings I harbored for Ari could no longer be contained. They demanded recognition, and in their fierce insistence, they threatened to unravel the very fabric of who I was supposed to be.

And so, under the watchful eyes of the cosmos, I wrestled with the love that both bound and liberated me.

I screamed.

My feet carried me into the woods, drawn by an unseen force as if the forest itself had whispered my name. The Hanisay trees rose around me more the longer I walked.

their thick trunks cloaked in moss and their leaves rustling softly in the night breeze—so reminiscent of the Tripolis mountains where we played as children. I wandered deeper. the air heavy with the scent of earth and the tang of sea salt that hinted at the proximity of the western waters.

The further I walked, the more the trees seemed to embrace me, their branches interlocking above to form a verdant canopy that shielded me from the prying eyes of the stars. Here, in this cocoon, I could allow the pain within me to surface, to let the tears that threatened to spill finally cascade down my cheeks.

I didn't have to be strong here. I didn't have to consume chaos.

"Lost again, sister?"

Volmira stood at the edge of the forest, her silhouette framed against the backdrop of the darkening sea. 

"Perhaps," I admitted.

I felt the first threads of clarity weave through the chaos of my heart just looking at her.

She was peace. Created in perfect neutrality, in perfect harmony with all that was life.

My breaths came in short, erratic bursts as I reached the edge where the woods surrendered to the vastness of the western sea. The chaos within me roiled, threatening to spill forth. A storm of centuries I'd absorbed and now clenched tightly within my soul.

"Found you," a voice broke through my thoughts. 

Volmira was in my head, her hand reaching out to rest on my forehead, cool and steady. But beneath her touch, I felt it—the searing heat at the core of my being, at my orifice, ready to ignite. If I let it, if I faltered, all of this—the ocean world, its existence—could be reduced to ashes. A witch's glory, pitiful in its destructive wake.

"Easy," Volmira murmured, her voice a lullaby meant to soothe a child of the storm I harbored. "Breathe with me."

Volmira's question sliced through the fragile calm I had managed to piece together. My chest still heaved with the effort of keeping the internal storm at bay, but her words demanded focus.

"What are you doing?" she pressed, her voice steady yet tinged with urgency.

"Trying to persuade a tribe of witches," I started, my voice trailing off as her eyes narrowed, not buying the sarcasm.

"No. What. Are. You. Doing. You need to come home, Mila. Before Tripolis explodes without Areilycus. And you."

 I swallowed hard, feeling the very real threat of that chaos clawing its way up my throat.

"Father... he ordered Ari to remain outside during the diamond storm," I confessed, the words tasting like bile. I watched her face contort in confusion and disbelief.

"Why would Father do that?" Volmira asked.

 "Cleo was there. But she didn't tell you, did she? Neither did Vectra. Because they do not wish you to face the reality."

 The salt air clung to my lips —the same scent that had lingered on Ari's feverish skin.

"Volmira," I began, my voice no more than a hoarse whisper, "the Lord of Light is...he's..." But the words refused to form, as if speaking them would make it all too real. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried again. "He's disposable to the Assigner.. And without him—"

"Without him, Tripolis will die." 

I fixated on the gnarled roots of a Hanisay tree that snaked across the forest floor like ancient veins. 

"All the Sensitives of Tripolis may die as well," I said, the words spilling out of me now, unstoppable and terrifying. "What is one child's death compared to an imploding coven of power?"

"Returned to the dust they were before the White Snake breathed life into them," Volmira murmured. To confront such a reality—that we could all be reduced to nothing, that our existence hinged on the fragile will of the Assigner … Who was willing to sacrifice the Light for sport—was to accept that our lives, our powers, were never truly our own.

 Yes, we must act—for Ari, for Tripolis, for the future of all Sensitives whose fate hung precariously in the balance. 

"I saw you, by the lake. With Areilycus." 

A knot tightened in my stomach, and I could feel the warmth drain from my face. "If the Assigner learns, then Ari truly will die. So will you." 

I reached for Volmira's hands, seeking some semblance of solace. "We don't have to abide by his laws anymore. There is another way," I urged. 

But my plea met with horror, not understanding. Volmira recoiled, snatching her hands back as if my touch burned her. "Are you insane?" she gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you asking the guardian of peace to start a war? It's against my nature!"

The earnestness in her voice stung, but I stood my ground. "It is precisely your duty to point out the imbalance of power," I argued, my resolve hardening. "The threat to peace the Assigner poses to Tripolis—it must be challenged."

"Mila," Volmira begged, her voice trembling, "come home with me. Stop this now before it's too late; you cannot win a war against him."

Her plea echoed in the stillness, mingling with the rustle of the leaves. I considered her words, the gravity of what lay ahead. A war against the Assigner was fraught with peril, but how could we stand by while he threatened all we held dear?

"I have to try," I whispered. 

Some lines should never be crossed. 

***

Edward didn't show his face in the encampment for two weeks. My time was running out, the acidic rains that Salacia was sending Aazor corroded fishermen's instruments, the butchers' cleavers, it was … inescapable. Some days it got so bad the rain caused rashes and blisters across the villagers' skin and the only logical solution was to blame the Vlachy. 

Neptune was dead and they were afraid that the travelers' presence was upsetting the Queen of Seas. 

The little monster my brother had to carry around to stay alive was slowly changing him. As if its passionate nature rubbed off on him. He became healthier the more the dragon grew - and it grew fast, but with the strength, the new-found posture and attitude that strained his shoulders now - Ari was transforming internally. 

I tread softly through Rhona's garden, the fragrant herbs releasing their scents with each step I took, a heady mix of lavender and rosemary carried on the breeze. My gaze found him there, in the nurturing glow of the afternoon sun, his golden hair catching the light like a beacon. Areilycus

knelt beside the dragon, his hands gentle as he offered her a sprig of fresh leaves.

"What are you doing?" The question slipped from me, even though the answer was clear as day.

He glanced up, and I could see the fondness in his eyes, an emotion that should have been reserved for kin, not creatures. "It took a while, but I finally figured out that the little girl does not eat meat," he explained.

"The little girl?" I echoed, incredulity lacing my tone as I stared at the beast before us. Fossil, with her scales shimmering like molten silver, was many things, but a little girl she was not.

"Are you seriously jealous of a beast?" Areilycus asked, rising to his full height. He towered above me now, having abandoned the field of herbs Rhona so painstakingly tended.

I watched him brush the dirt from his hands, a frown creasing my brow. The notion was absurd. Jealous? Of that creature? No, it was more than that—it was the principle of the matter. My brother, my equal in every way, had always been by my side, and now he doted on this...dragon, as if she were one of our own.

"Jealousy has nothing to do with it," I muttered, though the words tasted bitter on my tongue.

"You pay that beast more attention than me," I said, my voice low but laced with a simmering edge.

 The cumulative days and nights where my presence seemed to fade in his eyes, overshadowed by the gleam of her iridescent scales.

Areilycus paused, his hand hovering mid-air as if he were about to stroke the dragon's snout. He turned towards me, his expression softened by an unspoken apology. "I should not have done what I did the other day. I don't know what came over me, please forgive me," he admitted, and there was a tremor in his voice that nearly swayed me.

Nearly.

I scoffed at him. The bond between us, once unbreakable, now seemed frayed by each leaf he plucked for that creature. "We ought to cut out its heart and eat it, do you understand? You need the dragon's heart," I told him.

"I will not hurt an innocent being. Neither will you, is that clear, Milada?" 

In that moment, standing in the shadow of his conviction, I realized how far apart we had drifted, how my own heart had grown cold and hungry for the light he so effortlessly wielded. And yet, despite it all, I yearned for nothing more than to bask in that light like the night he grabbed me by the lake like I belonged to him.

Because I did.

I outstretched my hand, focusing my chaos upon the dragon. Bonnie. . 

This man really named a creature after a pirate. Not after me.

Ari grabbed my wrist and twisted it away from his pet. "Stop this right now before you do something you'll regret." 

"Oh," I snatch my hand back - I try - but he won't let me go. The grip, the pressure around my wrist - was he always this freakishly strong? "Abandoning my post, breaking about a dozen of Father's laws in order to save your life - I got plenty of regrets, where do you want me to start?" 

"You're vile," he said, and it cut too deep for the words to escape by accident. His entire soul signature pulsed in my mind. It burned.

"You're a hypocrite," I spat at him. 

"Don't heal your wounded ego using me," he said. When he let me go with way too little care, I realized I missed the gentle pain. 

I watched him, the way his eyes softened at the sight of the creature curled beside the smoldering embers of our last fire. No one cared about Areilycus more than I did, not even Areilycus himself, who, with a reckless selflessness that always gnawed at my insides, was ready to dissolve into nothingness for a beast he barely knew. Three days, it had been, three days since the scaled fledgling had stumbled into our lives, and already Ari was prepared to scatter his essence to the winds if it meant the creature's survival.

It was madness—the kind of madness only a being with too much heart could harbor. And as I stood there, amidst the tall grasses that whispered secrets to the dawn, I felt a familiar sickness roil in my stomach. I was sick of it—sick of the danger, of the relentless tug of emotions that seemed so alien to my kind. But it was a feeling all too familiar, too human, and it clung to me like the morning dew to the leaves.

My siblings, they were different, made of sterner stuff, untouched by the whims of sentimentality. But Ari, dear Areilycus, he had something else within him, something that he tried to suppress. 

 It wasn't the cosmic energy or the fuel of the stars that kindled his spirit—it was something far simpler and infinitely more complex.

It seeped from his pores, radiated from his gaze, imbued every gentle word and tender touch. He loved indiscriminately, fiercely, every creature, no matter how innocent or otherwise. Yet, there was an ache within me, a hollow space that knew this love, as vast as it might be, did not stretch in the direction I silently longed for. 

I had watched him, time and again, extend his heart outwards to all but me. But in that moment, when the dawn's light kissed the edge of the lake, I could no longer be just the observer, untouched by his affection in the way I craved. My love for Areilycus broke through its restraints.

His gaze locked on the tiny dragon whuffling softly at his feet. I moved closer, the scent of the damp earth and the musky odor of the slumbering Vlachy mingling in the air. Our eyes met for an instant, and I saw the heat. 

Her lips were warm and plump, lightly coated with a gloss that made them shiny and inviting.

As I pressed closer, I could feel his warm breath on my face, his lips soft and pliant, waiting to be mine. My hands were tingling against his cheeks.

This blasted world faded. Then came the snivel, a sound plaintive and childlike that belonged to the baby dragon, a reminder of where we were and who we were supposed to be. But Ari caught me firmer against him, as if the creature's interruption had solidified his resolve rather than weakened it. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the mossy ground.

Our tongues mingled, a tangible symbol of the raw fervor we had both suppressed for what felt like an eternity. 

His kiss deepened, grew possessive, a vow that shattered the chains of our twinhood. 

I floated in a haze of ecstasy, anchored only by the strength of his embrace. Around us, the encampment slept on, unaware that in their midst, the universe had tilted.