Chapter 60 - Corrections (2)

Chapter 60 - Corrections (2)

He didn't know how long he'd been gripping the body in front of him, but it was long enough that past a certain point he was getting a bit uncomfortable. That was probably on him though, considering how he'd nearly tackled the man in the beginning. 

Aedhira didn't know WHY he did it, in retrospect. The moment the figure of light had taken it's final shape-

The moment he'd set eyes on it, a part of him THROBBED in pain. 

Argos hadn't detected any damage. It was the first thing he'd thought to ask. No mental or psychic attacks either, by the looks of it, but then again, Aedhira figured he wouldn't really even know if he'd suffered such an attack.

No this pain was....something else.

More intimate.

It came from deeper inside, as if he'd suddenly uncovered a festering wound in him, that shouldn't have been there. 

Or more accurately, one he hadn't noticed.

Since his wake, Aedhira had only closed his eyes to rest for a grand total of TWO times. Other times, he'd been unknowingly pushing. 

Pushing himself as far as he could. Every bit of the situation he was in was foreign to him. And there was far too much he didn't know- and that didn't particularly make him feel very safe.

One would have to remember that, Aedhira IS in fact the equivalent to a VERY smart and remarkably robust newborn, that in the end, is still a newborn.

He'd been carrying a burden he hadn't noticed, after the little message his 'Mother' had left him as soon as he'd woken. He felt an irrational need to do the right thing, costs inconsequential- to him, it needed to be DONE.

It was why when Argos had once asked him as to why he'd rescued those refugees, he hadn't been able to provide a valid answer. 

Aedhira had been carrying that since day one. But now, something changed.

It was something about this man in front of him. Some part of his mind, nagged at him.

'Maybe...it can wait'

'Maybe, just maybe, all of that could wait, just for a moment.'

Aedhira's thoughts wove in and out of his mind like loose threads, half-formed and hazy, when Astiron's gentle clearing of his throat pulled him back to the present. Aedhira's grip tightened reflexively, as if fearing that the man before him would vanish the moment he let go. He could feel Astiron's chest rising and falling steadily, a quiet reassurance that this wasn't some fleeting dream. 

"Hey," Astiron chuckled softly, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to vibrate through Aedhira's bones. "It's alright. You can let go whenever, but I don't mind. Not at all."

Aedhira hesitated but didn't pull away, his mind still swimming in the warmth and unfamiliar comfort that Astiron offered. It was as if he were afraid that breaking contact would shatter whatever strange magic had drawn him to this man in the first place. He managed to loosen his grip, but his hands remained on Astiron's shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as though anchoring himself to something solid.

Astiron's eyes sparkled with a quiet amusement, a smile curling at the corners of his lips. "You've been worrying too much, haven't you?" he said, his tone kind but knowing. "It's written all over your face. You can relax a bit, at least while I'm here."

Aedhira blinked, taken aback by the statement. He pushed himself up slightly, sitting back on his heels as he stared at Astiron with wide eyes. How did he know? Astiron's words had struck something deep, something Aedhira hadn't even fully put into words himself. 

"How did you—" Aedhira began, but Astiron cut him off with another easy laugh, shaking his head.

"With your mask off, you're an open book, kid," Astiron said, tapping his finger lightly against Aedhira's forehead. "You might be able to hide behind that fancy armor of yours, but out here? You're painfully easy to read."

Aedhira's cheeks flushed slightly, a rare hint of embarrassment creeping into his expression. He looked away, fingers twitching at the hem of his shirt. "I… It's just that…" he mumbled, struggling to find the right words. "I've never been good at this. At… anything, really."

Astiron's eyes softened, his hand moving up to ruffle Aedhira's hair in a fatherly, almost instinctive gesture. "You worry too much, Aedhira," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "And it's not because you're lacking. You're just… new. You don't need to have it all figured out. Not now. Not all at once."

Aedhira blinked up at him, absorbing the words like a dry sponge. He wanted to argue, to say that he *had* to figure it out, that there was too much at stake, but Astiron's presence was soothing, calming his frayed nerves. 

"Mother said…" Aedhira began, trailing off as the familiar weight of Veria's words pressed against him. "She told me… things that I—"

Astiron's face suddenly shifted, the warmth draining from his eyes as they hardened into something colder, sharper. The transformation was so sudden that Aedhira almost flinched back, a nervous shiver running through him. Astiron's expression twisted into a grimace, his jaw tight as if he were holding back a snarl. "So she really DID screw around with the wake-up sequence," he spat, the words laced with venom. "Damn her."

The shift in atmosphere was palpable. The temperature seemed to drop, and for the first time, Aedhira felt a pang of unease in Astiron's presence. His father's voice, once so warm, now carried a bitter edge that Aedhira hadn't expected. 

Aedhira's voice wavered as he ventured, "You… you and Veria… were you two… married or something?"

Astiron's demeanor changed again, the warmth vanishing like smoke on the wind. His eyes narrowed, and the playful man who had embraced Aedhira moments before was replaced by someone colder, more distant. "Not a chance," he said, his tone mocking as he made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers. "'Mother Almighty' doesn't bind herself to anyone, let alone me. And if that option ever existed, I'd never take it."

Aedhira recoiled slightly, not from fear but from the sudden shift in tone. It was jarring, seeing this side of Astiron—this rejection of someone Aedhira had, for better or worse, regarded as a guiding force since his awakening.

Astiron seemed to catch himself, the harshness bleeding out of his expression as quickly as it had appeared. He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that seemed almost sheepish. "Sorry, kid. I shouldn't… Well, it's complicated. Let's just say Veria and I have a history, and leave it at that."

Aedhira nodded slowly, though his mind buzzed with unspoken questions. The man before him was a paradox—warm and cold, familiar yet enigmatic. And as Astiron's smile returned, softer now, the strange, unsettling edges of his personality smoothed over once more.

Astiron leaned back, his gaze softening again, the playful warmth returning to his features. "Not all parents are married, Aedhira," he said with a faint smirk. "You'll understand one day, when you're older." 

Aedhira, still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions, managed a small nod, feeling both reassured and perplexed. There was so much he still didn't understand, but for now, he could let it rest. For now, he was content to simply be. 

They'd stayed like that for a bit longer, before it seemed like both the father and son had enough physical affection for a bit, a small tinge of red playing on their ears, easily noticeable on their pale skin.

Instead, they'd lied, with their backs to the tree on the simulated(?) hill, (He still hadn't entirely worked out how Astiron had done it).

After a couple minutes of silence, Aedhira finally asked the question that had been bugging him for a while. 

"What is this place?"

"..."

"..."

Neither of them said anything after that. Aedhira, for his part didn't really know what to say.

Astiron on the other hand seemed to be searching for the words...to-

"Do you mean this place here...or Lokir in general?"

"....I don't really know?"

"I see"

A bit more contemplative silence, with just the gentle breeze to go along with. The silence, Aedhira found, wasn't so bad.

"How much do you know about dragons?"

Aedhira took a glimpse at Astiron, then began to remember the image of that he'd seen before. The large reptilian head, it's silhouette made him feel so-

"Don't"

He looked back at his father.

"It's written on your face at this point. Don't think about that, don't even attempt to remember that image. It's....it's not particularly good for your health at this point in time...how do I say this....you're too-"

"Weak?"

Astiron did a double take, visibly caught off guard for the first time. His eyes widened in genuine surprise, as if the weight of Aedhira's self-assessment had struck a chord. It wasn't often that Aedhira accurately finished someone else's thoughts, let alone his father's. There was a pause—an unspoken exchange of unasked questions and quiet truths.

"Aedhira…" Astiron began, his voice softer, carrying a hint of concern. "Don't put yourself down like that. You're—"

But Aedhira cut him off, his tone resigned yet matter-of-fact. "Argos already told me." He shrugged, his wry smile a mixture of acceptance and frustration. "There's a lot I'm not supposed to know because I'm… too weak."

Astiron grimaced, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He reached over, ruffling Aedhira's hair with an uncharacteristically gentle touch, as if trying to smooth away the bitter edge of those words. "You'll get there. One step at a time."

The silence stretched again, only broken by the faint rustling of simulated leaves above them. Aedhira leaned back further, letting his head rest against the tree trunk. Astiron shifted slightly, as if preparing to impart something significant, something sacred.

"Let's start with the basics," Astiron said, his voice taking on a lecturing, almost nostalgic quality. "Dragons… they're not just creatures, Aedhira. They're one of the first beings that ever existed in this universe. Ancient forces of nature, birthed in the primordial chaos, and molded by time and the wild whims of the cosmos."

Aedhira listened intently, eyes fixated on the sky above, now tinged with an endless array of pastel colors that shifted gently, as if the heavens themselves were breathing. It was oddly calming, but he couldn't help feeling the weight behind Astiron's words, like they were unveiling a chapter of a long-forgotten book.

"Dragons," Astiron continued, "aren't just strong—they're beings of inherent power. Power that isn't merely physical or magical, but something deeper. Stories of dragons are scattered across the universe, not because of their strength, but because they're dragons. Their existence is woven into the very fabric of reality."

He paused, gauging Aedhira's reaction before proceeding. "Contrary to popular belief, dragons don't always look like towering reptilian beasts. That's just a form their ancestors liked. Nowadays, many dragons take on less conspicuous forms, often humanoid. It's a lot easier to blend in that way, especially when you're a race that's as old as the stars themselves."

"So… anyone could be a dragon?" Aedhira asked, his mind racing with the possibilities. "You'd never know?"

Astiron nodded, his smile laced with a hint of mischief. "Exactly. In today's age, spotting a dragon among the crowd is no easy feat. They could be anywhere, anyone. But that's not the point. The real question is… why are they so revered, so privileged?"

Aedhira frowned, the simplicity of the question catching him off guard. "Why are they?"

Astiron's wry smirk returned, an almost amused glint in his eyes. "Because they're dragons. Why else?"

Aedhira blinked, taken aback by the non-answer. "That's… not really an explanation."

"It is, though," Astiron chuckled softly. "Dragons don't need a reason to be what they are. It's intrinsic. They exist, therefore they are powerful. It's their nature to be respected, feared, and envied. They're a force of life itself, and there's no bargaining with that kind of existence."

Aedhira mulled over those words, feeling the weight of them settle into his mind like a heavy book placed gently on a shelf. He couldn't quite grasp the full implications, but he understood enough. Dragons were more than just mythic creatures—they were embodiments of cosmic truth, living manifestations of power unbound.

"That's a bit-"

"Unfair?" Astiron mused.

"Uh..yeah"

"It is. Truly is unfair. Dragons" Astiron huffed a bit, as if he was letting out some frustrations. Though he perked right back up a moment later.

"As I was saying, dragons, are super strong. Almost always at the peak of their power. They get stronger, simply by living out their damn-near-eternal lives. The only reason a Dragon would die, is that they were killed. A Dragon dying of old age is ruinously rare. Most of them tend to mo-ah, shouldn't tell you that part yet."

Aedhira pouted at that. His father laughed at his antics and ruffled his increasingly addictive, soft hair. He ruffled them a bit more rigorously this time.

"With time, you'll find out. Anyway, where was I?"

"The only reason-"

"Ah, the only reason a Dragon would die, is because they were killed. And unsurprisingly, a LOT of beings wish to kill dragons"

"Why?"

Astiron glanced at Aedhira with eyes, that pure, almost childlike curiosity, unaccompanied by any ulterior motives. It was a nostalgic sight for him.

"Well—" Astiron began, leaning back against the tree as he gathered his thoughts, "Dragons are… coveted. Their parts are immensely valuable—everything from their scales to their bones, and especially their hearts. Dragon parts make for exceptional crafting materials, enhancing armor, weapons, even entire starships. Their innards are used in medicine and alchemical brews, turning them into stupidly potent boosters that can grant strength, longevity, and resilience."

Astiron's eyes flicked to Aedhira, gauging his reaction. The boy was listening intently, his young face creased with a mixture of fascination and unease.

"Consuming a dragon's heart, for example," Astiron continued, "is said to bolster someone by several magnitudes, often raising their rank by one, sometimes even two levels depending on their original strength. But it's a double-edged sword. Hunting or consuming dragon parts almost always earns you the ire of the rest of their kind. Dragons are fiercely protective of their own, and even if you manage to kill one, you're making enemies of some of the most powerful beings in the universe. The only exception is when a dragon willingly gives away parts of themselves—usually as a reward or favor—or when it's a hunt sanctioned against a dragon that even other dragons see as a criminal."

He paused, glancing at Aedhira, who was frowning slightly, trying to absorb the implications. "In short, hunting dragons is usually a terrible idea," Astiron summarized, "unless you have a death wish or a very, very good reason."

Astiron gave a slight shrug, his expression shifting to a lighter tone. "But I've veered off topic. Dragons, at their core, are forces of nature in the most literal sense. They embody aspects of the universe within themselves. Some of the more notable ones I've come across in my time are... well, they're like legends themselves. For instance, there's Gaorona, a Void Dragon whose presence feels like staring into the emptiness between stars, and Lioretta Frigis, an Ice Dragon whose breath could freeze entire oceans in seconds. They're old, really old—great-grand to the 27th or something kind of old."

Aedhira listened with wide eyes, his mind painting images of the vast, ancient beings Astiron spoke of. The sheer scale and power of these dragons seemed almost impossible to fathom.

"They're also strong beyond measure, but despite their might, dragons rarely share their true names. Names hold power for beings like them, so they often go by titles or monikers earned from their deeds. Some are grand, like 'The Ender' or 'Moonsplitter.' Others… not so much. I once heard of one called 'He Who Eats Rocks.'" Astiron chuckled at the absurdity of the last title, shaking his head in amusement. "Because of how they are, dragons don't actively seek strength—they don't need to. They're born strong, and just being alive makes them stronger."

Astiron hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as if debating whether to continue. "But... there are exceptions. Or rather, an exception. Singular."

Aedhira's curiosity was piqued, his gaze sharpening. "Who?"

The atmosphere around them shifted. The gentle breeze that had been blowing moments ago turned sharper, colder. The simulated sky above darkened, clouds thickening as they morphed from soft white puffs to ominous shades of gray, then darker still, until the entire sky was shrouded in an inky blackness. The wind picked up, howling with a fierce intensity that sent chills through Aedhira's body. 

Lightning streaked across the sky, jagged and wild, followed by thunder so loud it rattled Aedhira's very bones. Astiron's expression grew somber, his eyes distant, as though he were staring not at the sky, but into memories long past.

"The universe knows him as a tyrant, a bloodthirsty battle seeker, a dragon who revels in war and conflict. He was once just another dragon but grew into something far more terrifying. He became a Herald—a messenger of doom—then ascended further to become an Eminence, one of the highest titles a dragon can achieve."

Astiron's voice lowered, almost reverent but tinged with sadness. "To me, he is a dear friend. To you… he's your godfather. He is Nornesh, the Storm Dragon. Nornesh Araish Israejin."

The name reverberated in the air like a crack of thunder, and in that moment, Aedhira could feel the weight of it—a presence vast and overwhelming, like the eye of a storm staring right back at him.

Grimly, he spoke once more.

"And this place....is his tomb"