"If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible. If he has to make a choice, may he make it now. Then I will either wait for him or forget him."
â Paulo Coelho
Hey guys :)) I finally got around to editing the rest of this book and finalizing the last couple plot points! This part will have roughly 12-13 chapters (so 30ish chapters in this book in total) and be about 23k (last part was almost 40k). Anyways, enjoy!
Part Two - Chapter Four
"The Dragon's Young Witch"
After the third time in a dreamscape, the youngling brings it up to the coven.
The witch, the one who he remembers, the one he visits in his sleepâthey're a voidwalker, able to slip between this world and the space beyond physical matters, into the hidden connections between people. Able to hide in shadows and twist through the night sky, able to visit other's dreams.
It makes sense, when Ras tells him this, how they were always able to get away with sneaking him things or visiting when they weren't supposed to be back at the old coven.
How the dreams that are too real but too foreign to fit into place.
He keeps his head down, eyes on the kitchen table. They've finished eating, the coven in their respective chairs, all paying attention to what he has to share.
"They said that they wanted it this way," Stray admits, voice quiet. "That I wasn't meant to remember becauseâbecause they said I would've gone back. For them, I would've gone back."
It's a truth; a solid, immovable truth.
Because even after all this time, even after he hardly remembers them, hardly remembers their face, the way his heart aches and hands sweat and the way he loves themâlongs to be with themâcannot hide how he once felt.
This witch used to mean everything to him. He would've given up freedom for them.
Oziamon sucks in a breath, fingers clasping tighter over his guitar strings with a twang!
Ras frowns, wings ruffling behind her, and his protector leans against him more, offering silent support but not saying anything
There's no words that can fix this kind of pain.
"They're young but they're powerful," the phoenix starts slowly, all back to business. "Voidwalkers leave traces of their magic behind, no matter which side of their powers they're using. The amount of nights you experience these dreams, there's enough there to track them down. If we're going to find this witch, that's a good place to start."
"How does that even work?" He scrunches his nose. "The magic's in my mind, isn't it?"
"In a way," Ras gives him a patient smile. "Do you know how we can find each other through our coven bond?" He nods. "Well, voidwalkers have to create a bond of sorts to be able to visit someone's dreams, they always leave a piece of themselves behind."
"Basically," Ozzy says, interrupting, "Ras finds what that piece is and lays a spell over your mind that will let you follow it to the source, to this witch. You follow it, and we follow you."
"But what about the store?" Stray says, anxiously bringing one of his dad's hands to his lap to fiddle with.
"We'll get someone to look after it," Ras waved away his worries. "Golden girl will probably be up for it."
Golden girl, or Marigold, was a witch who owned the bakery that was right next to their shop. She was a kind soul, sweet and soft-spoken but with sharp eyes and burly magic twisting around her. She was strong, both physically and with spells.
The youngling really liked her; she always gave him cookies.
When he began to venture out a while back, to see more people than just those in his coven, she was one of the first he met. Patience and gentleness drew him in almost as much as her quick wit. Her familiar, a large firebird named Blaise, bantered with him and introduced him to the art of pranks.
They were a lovely little covenâthough, apparently, they weren't the only ones in theirs. He never got around to learning the rest.
"Blaise will, at least," Stray says, feeling a buzz of fondness and worry push towards his bond. "Fucker loves being in charge and bossing people around."
"Be nice," the phoenix scolds, though there's no heat behind it.
Everyone knew by now that them being bitter towards each other was purely for show. Astraeus really just likes the banter and the firebird is more than fond enough to indulge him.
"When do ya want to go?" Athanasius asks, squeezing his hand lightly as he brings back focus to the conversation. "Is there, like, a special day or somethin' you want to leave on?"
"No, no special day," the golden dragon curled closer towards his protector. "As soon as we can, I guess? It's been years since I saw them, I know they got out but... they felt lonely."
His dad cocked his head to the side, red eyes moving away from him and to the surface of the table. A spike of somethingâsadness, maybe?âflashes in the back of his mind.
It's familiar in an achy way.
"Do you think that they've been alone, all this time?" Atlas asks. "You found us but we don't know what they've been livin' like. Should we be prepared for anyone more? What mindset are we goin' into with this?"
Valid questions, Stray knew, but they made him shuffle uncomfortably.
He didn't like to think about it, think about his witch all alone out there.
"I don't know," he admitted softly. "I think we justâwe need to be careful. If they've been alone, they won't know what to expect. You guys will be a big fuckin' shock. Maybe treat them how you first treated me? So they know you're not a baddie or whatever."
"So," Oziamon says. "It's safe to assume they'll be heavily traumatized?"
Stray held back a frown. "Yeah. I think they were used, too."
A heavy pause, anger a mere thread underneath the waves of love weaving into the bond's surface. He's used to the protectiveness of his coven and tries to push that aside.
There's nothing they can do to change the past, after all.
"This might not be the best time to bring it up," Ozzy says, clearing his throat as he sat up straighter. His glasses slid down his nose but he didn't push them back up, hands too busy messing with the salt shaker. "But we don't really know what they did to you. It's kind of hard to be able to assume what they then did to this witch of yours."
"Oh," the youngling grimaced. "Right."
Another pause.
His dad bumps their shoulders together. He bumps them back.
"Do you, likeâwant to know?" Stray asks after a couple moments.
"Yes," the witch bluntly said. Ras slapped Ozaimon on the shoulder, making a face at him. "Ow! What? Did you want me to lie?"
"No but you should've at least been more considerate," Ras sighed, giving Stray an apologetic look as embarrassment poked through Oz's emotions. "You don't have to tell us anything you're not comfortable sharing, mate. I know things like this are really hard to talk about." She hesitates, then, his expression going a little sheepish. "Saying that, specifics might be a bit useful. We're going to be dealing with someone new, triggers need to be taken into consideration."
"Oh." He hadn't thought about that.
"Runt," Athanasius tugged on his hand, making him look at his dad. Red to blue and so much concern he almost wants to melt into it. "You come first, okay? No matter what. If you can't share, then don't. There's no use in pushin' yourself, we can figure it all out later."
"I know, dad," the golden dragon said, giving Atlas a light purr. He gets a rumble back within a second and smiles. "It's justâyou all get so upset at it at what happened."
"That's okay," his protector reassured. "Let us get upset. Let us feel it, let us get angry. We won't stay angry, we'll calm down 'n then we'll move on. Let us handle ourselves, alright? Our emotions are not your responsibility, treasure."
Stray, though warmed at the reminder, dunks his head down.
The love pouring from his dadâbond, rumble, tone and allâis enough to overwhelm him sometimes. Never in a bad way but the part of him that still fears cold nights staggers at the freely given affection.
It's hard to believe sometimes but it's never forgettable.
He takes a deep breath, holds it. Waits six seconds. Releases it.
"I don't remember the first couple of years with them," the youngling admits. He keeps his eyes on his dad's hands, not his own. The scars feel shameful, somehow, like they're less than just because they're his own. "It's all a blur, really. The rules were clear but what happened if I broke them... I'm not too upset with forgetting."
Athanasius tightens the hold on their bond, dwindling it down until just a peek of his coven's emotions can be felt through his dad's soft, blunting cover.
He's thankful for it, he doesn't know how much he could share otherwise.
"I was kept in a cage, no matter which form I was in but usually, I kept my scales on. The room they kept me in was cold and dark, there were no windows and no light, it was empty besides me and the cages." He remembered how the walls echoed, his pleading squeaks calling back to him. He felt forever alone, there, in that room. "I'd be let out every few weeks and slept whenever I could. Food could be taken away or limited at any moment, they never gave me enoughâI think it was to keep me weak."
Stray kept his emotions held close to himself, trying to get through this without breaking. He needed to be understood, now, not comforted.
There'll be time to break down later.
"The witches were strong but it wasn't natural. They wouldâthey'd take our magic. Their familiars were, I think they didn't have a choice. They didn't want to be used, but the alternativeâ" Stray's breath hitch, shoulders coming up to his ears. "They took our magic by force, using it for spells or to give themselves more power, I'm not really sure. All I know is that they used it against us, keeping us in place. Obedient, docile, scared."
Safe-safe-safe, Atlas rumbled when his voice got too wobbly. Protected.
Loved, he shakily growls back. Safe.
"It was never good enough, though." He continued when he could no longer hear his own heartbeat. "Nothing was. The punishments were... they were cruel, everything about these witches were cruel. Whippings, beatings, magic getting ripped from us or spells used to hurt us. I-I wasn't really good, at first. I didn't know how to listen. They didn't like that."
"Bastards," Oziamon muttered darkly.
The youngling gave a weak chuckle, nodding. "Yeah, they fucking sucked."
He took another deep breath, resting his forehead onto his dad's arm.
"My voidwalker would... they'd sneak me things. I, uh, I remember this one time I had gotten used as practice forâI was, I got hurt. Really bad." He squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the phantom pain that comes with the memories. "They healed me. Or, or they'd sneak me food or sneak me outâbefore the wards kept me in and the, the lock got changed. I-I would talk to them and they would talk to me. They took me to see the big window."
The golden dragon laughs again, sad and small.
"That's when they visit me in my dream, actually." This is confessed barely above a whisper. "The time they got me out to see the sun. We didn't get caught, it was a good day."
A pause. A long exhale.
"There were a lot of bad days, though. Days I would be forced to do things or be hurt when I refused. I'd imagine it was the same way for themâmade to feel like we deserved anything that happened to us, to never question them. I wouldn't run. I wouldn't make noise because even the smallest of sounds weren't allowed. I had no value, I was lower than them."
"You're everything," Athanasius snarled, low and challenging.
Calm-loved, safe, Stray snuffles softly at Atlas, wiggling closer until both of his arms and his wings are around his dad. "They didn'tâthey never saw me as anything but, as anything but something to use. But I know better now."
"Never again," his protector saysâa promise.
"Never again," he agrees.
"This... voidwalker will have scars like you?" Ras asks once the tension breaks, voice calm but even the glimpse of his emotions shows that the older blond is anything but.
"Probably," Stray says. "I don't remember."
"So," Ozzy says, frowning over at him, brown to blue. His magic dances around them, wispy and upset. The rest of them aren't much better. "The basics: no loud noises, no abrupt movements, no spontaneous uses of our magic. Broadcast everything we do, no silent walking, no sneaking up, no touching without permission. When they come back with usâ"
"Come back with us?" Ras interrupts, looking startled.
"Yeah?" The witch raises an eyebrow, looking between each familiar. "Aren't they coming back with us?"
There's no response.
Stray honestly hadn't thought that far, thought past finding them.
"If... if they want to," the youngling tentatively started, "could they? Stay with us, I mean."
Athanasius doesn't say anything, both him and Oziamon turning to look at Ras. He's always thought it was so funny that even when the head of the coven, technically, was their witch, all three of them deferred to Ras with most decisions.
He was Ozzy's parent, after all, and Atlas was bad at social situations. Stray just thought his pseudo-uncle was really cool. Erasmus Keres, the best of men and women. His aunt is cool.
"Yeah, mate," the phoenix meets his eye, expression soft. "They can come back with us. We can even get a room for them, too, so they have somewhere to relax away from us."
"The spell to create a room for them would be easy," Oz says.
"We can do it before we leave."
"Speakin' of that," Athanasius says, a low growl still in his throat. "When should we go? We gotta get everythin' ready 'n ask Marigold if she can look after the shop."
"Next week?" Stray offers.
"Next week works," Ras nods. "We'll leave Monday morning at dawn."
One week.
One single week and then he might get the chance to find his voidwalker.
Seven days feel like it's too far away but too soon at the same time.
His protector pulls him closer, rubbing up and down his wings. He has all he needs here, to be happy. He has his dad, his coven, a warm bed and books and enough food to never go hungry.
But now, now he wants something more.
He wants to find them, he wants to make sure they're okay, he wants to not only remember their past together but to make more memories for them now.
He wants, wants, wants.
And for once, well, Stray's not afraid to.