Hey guys! Jason Alan here. I’m thrilled at Phate’s publication set for September 2nd, so I thought I would share with you a peek at one of my favorite characters. She is special to me, as she is special to the story. I have a fondness for dragons, and I can promise you – Phate is filled with them. Here’s an introduction to my favorite one. I hope you enjoy this, and I hope you enjoy Phate: The Cosmic Fairytale. All my best…
Drinwor looked up to her. “I don’t know what to say, except, thank you.” He brought his hands to his face, catching liquid crystal tears. “Ah, I’m sorry. I really need to control my feelings. I can’t break down every time I hear about him. It’s just—”
“My Emperor,” said the dragon, “there’s no need to justify or explain. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve been insensitive. In your delicate state, I went a little bit too far. I shall not speak of him like that again.”
Drinwor took his hands from his face and waved them. “No, no, don’t be sorry, I asked you to tell me how you knew him! No, please, it’s good to hear these things, actually. Good to hear…well…good things about him.” He laughed through a sniffle.
“I know you’ve endured a lot already. If you would like, I can ease your sorrow, at least a little.”
Drinwor tilted his head. “How would you do this?”
“I will show you.”
She began to sing.
Mystical characters composed of sparkling blue dust slipped through the doorway to dance about Drinwor’s head. They were magical notes, accompanying the dragon’s tune and reminding Drinwor of the crystal leaves in the Forest of Chanting Angels. Their intertwining melodies were soft, resonating, pleading for the assuaging of his soul. That such a sound didn’t emanate from an instrument would have been disbelieved by the symphonic masters of the universe’s most artistic civilizations.
This was the Dragons’ Song of Solacing.
It was effective.
Drinwor sat with eyes closed, listening as one does to the breaking of waves upon the shore. His breathing deepened and slowed, and an ample portion of his despair was gently turned aside. He still bore it, was still very much conscious of it, but for now, he was better able to cope. The song carried on for a couple minutes, then slowly sank beneath audibility.
Drinwor exhaled, opened his eyes, and stood up. “Thank you,” he said, “I do feel better.”
“You’re welcome, my Lord,” the dragon returned. “Would you like to come out of your bedchamber now, so we can really meet?”
Drinwor said, “I’d like that,” then moved toward the door.
The eye remained hovering just on the other side.
“Uh, I might need some room, there,” Drinwor noted.
A small laugh ensued. “Yes, yes of course.” The eye backed out of view.
Drinwor strode through the doorway. There was a quick, painless little sizzle as he passed through the magical veil, then he was back in the Chamber of the Staring Sun. It was dimly lit. The Sun’s Remembrance was shadowy, for outside, dawn had yet to fully awaken; the sky was bluish-black, still flecked with weary stars, and the horizon was just beginning to glow. Inside, all was quiet. Vren Adiri itself seemed to be sleeping.
Something about the chamber was rather odd, though. It was dim, yes, but Drinwor discerned a strange blear that covered all the space before him. Little twinkles shone here and there, and as his eyes adjusted to the chamber’s light, he noticed a barely perceptible network of thin red and blue lines threading the very air. “This is strange.” He tentatively reached out to the blear, and it was as if his fingers touched some invisible wall that was both warm and tender.
“What is this?” he cried, quickly withdrawing his hand.
“Hello, Drinwor Fang, you are even more beautiful that I had imagined.”
The dragon’s voice sounded from directly above.
Drinwor glanced up, and there, looking down on him, was a pair of those mesmerizing eyes. Now unhindered by the door, he could see them in their full radiance. Indeed they were glorious, like bluish-green worlds fully imbued in a healthy sun’s light. They were expressive, compassionate; although their gaze bore into him, they somehow didn’t seem intrusive. They came down closer and Drinwor realized—the dragon was right in front of him. “Oh, I was wondering what that was. It was you!” He laughed.
“Yes.” She smiled.
Drinwor had seen dragons in his time, but none like this. He circled around, taking in her full form.
Ah, finally, my loyal reader, a time I have long awaited has come!
Beneath this very sentence lies my favorite dragon’s description…
She was huge, much bigger than Zraz, over two hundred feet long from the tip of her snout to the end of her spaded tail. She was clear. Her body looked as if it was made of perfectly still spring water. The red and blue threads were her veins, which spread out from the soft golden impression of her heart. The rest of her organs were barely discernible blurs. She twinkled here and there, briefly revealing some feature or another. Drinwor caught a glimpse of the long, curving horns arcing back from just behind her eyes. And for a second he saw her scimitar-like talons, and the tips of her glistening, pearl-like fangs. Her wings looked like great ethereal leaves folded across her back, and she was as sleek and smooth as a creature born to slip through liquid crystal seas.
She projected an air of quiet power, of royal, immortal, and ancient majesty.
She was a Greater Translucent Dragon.
She was purring now, her breath’s deep rhythmic hush manifesting only a hint of the heat of the fires that lay behind it. She brought her head down and her facial features sparkled like wintery stars, illuminating the expression on her glorious face. She looked on Drinwor with what could only be described as love.
Drinwor gasped. “You are beautiful.” And at that moment, something occurred to him. “Wait a minute…I don’t even know your name!”
The spirit elves’ first song of the day rose up to accompany her voice when she said: “I am called Morning’s Hope.”
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