Doom of Dawnlight

I am the screw up of the century.

And that is saying something, my sister Bodhi has yet to master her flaming ability and seared the mid-lengths of her lilac locks.

Bodhi Yarrow, the Flame of Airedale, did not have the Doom of Dawnlight hidden in her house. In the very studio where the majority my paintings now lay in shreds. All these titles make my head spin. A whistlestop tour of the archived books in the library revealed that the warriors of old banished the Dragon to the fiery depths of God-knows-where and left him for dead.

No, it would be my luck that this creature decided to want to come to my house for a cup of lavender tea. I had not realised that a paintbrush I thought was merely an aesthetically pleasing tool would have manifested the doom of all fae of my Kingdom. A lot of unfortunate words tumbled from my mouth when I had seen the dragon after I had finished those brush strokes on the canvas. The shedding crust of his skin was worse than his head bumping against my ceiling.

The measly piece of wood threatens to burn a hole through the pocket of my coat. The power humming, making sure that its presence is known. I quicken my step, careful not to trip on my hastily tied boots on the pavement of the main street of the town. Tall figures shrouded in woollen coats huddle together, making their way home from another day with their lovers and children.

It has claimed me, and I will never be able to undo this. One that has sealed my fate for all time.

You are stupid, frivolous fool, Elowen.

What I did not realise with this paintbrush as luxurious as each stroke of shadow and light was, I had begun to capture the rare lightning storm outside of my window last night. The resounding echo of the thunder cried to my heart that night, as if the scene was begging to remain immortalised in my canvas. Bodhi gave an assuring smile as she went off to fight the next morning, I could not hide my pale face as the lightning hummed in my veins, an unfamiliar symphony that the depths of my soul recognised.

I did not realise that I would summon an ancient beast banished to God knows where. The Doom of Dawnlight he said. Pretentious.

I had gone out to fetch her treatments bathed in the scent of rose and honey, only to be called to a lone paintbrush on the floor. I thought that someone had dropped it on their way out from asking the art shop owner, if he had procured the linen canvases. I had bent down, pocketing the paintbrush in my purse after no one had claimed it.

With my eternally cold body, I would be glad of the heat source in my coat. I cannot stop the beads of perspiration running down the side of my cheek, the consequence of what I have done rearing its ugly head.

The ancient power that was meant to lay dormant to some other sorry soul awakened it. I suppose God above was needing a bit of entertainment at the expense of one of His invisible servants. This was not the calling that I signed up for.

Glancing around the street, the merchants of the brown stone stores fumble with their keys, the metal clinking in the quiet. I cannot help but feel my heart pang at the soft click of the lock, the store housing every single shade of paint that you could ever dream of closing for the night.

I do not think I will have such luxuries ever again. A part of me is already grieving the carefree days of musing with the hues of umber and sienna on a canvas. It had become a routine of letting the morning light embrace me while my sister went to training. I had accepted that I was not a warrior, I should have been more grateful for my life in Airedale.

If Bodhi Yarrow finds the room I have kept under lock and key in our shared house, I think she would render us all to ash to avoid the consequences. I would deem that a fitting punishment for the scaled creature taking refuge in my studio.

My chest tightens, my lungs inside me constricting with the sharp icy chill in the air. I will the breath in my lungs to billow into a frozen breeze under the dim lights of the streets.

With the chipped cobblestones, I make quick steps to the left at the end of the square. I take off into a brisk sprint to get back to the house. I look to the dial outside of out cottage.

Four, five..thirty.

Bodhi will only be leaving training now, perhaps heading out with Eiran to the Duke of Lucian Tavern for a couple of whiskies and far too many giggly hiccups. Right, I have about an hour or so. This is precious time I cannot afford to lose.

I unlock the door, chucking my coat and damp boots to the side. I charge through the living room, littered with my dog-eared romance books that I had left abandoned by the worn sofa. The fireplace is gone to ash, not a lick of heat through the house. Thankfully, Bodhi had left a few candles burning, I had left her a note to say I would be out. And not to go in my room because I have a very special painting that I had been working on, and no prying eyes are meant to see it yet.

Expect this painting just so happened to want to come alive in a physical form. Jeez, if I had known that I could have painted a man with a beard that can chop wood and look like a warrior doing it.

I sigh, that might be the next venture provided that the first accidental one does not burn us alive and use our ashes as fertiliser.

I mean, he did not look to be too menacing. That was earlier this morning, I offered him a tea. It went down like a led balloon. I did not realise that dragons can have facial expressions, I could have sworn that he literally deadpanned, as if it was I who grew the wings.

I step into the little studio, slamming the door behind me. With the meticulous membrane, each piece of skin woven carefully into place, I crane my stiff neck up to the beast. Handcrafted by the most ancient of rulers whose only motive was to dominate our land, the land that the duke fought so valiantly to protect. A land that my sister still fights with every breath to protect.

Another detail that I had not realised, these ancient creatures have a knack for sneaking into your mind to speak.

His deep voice sends a shiver down my spine. “If you’re here to offer me tea, I suggest you offer me a window instead. This place stinks of turpentine.”

I hastily empty the contents of the jam jar I had stored my tubes of paint, sending each one tumbling. “How will I know that you aren’t here to burn this place down?”

My sweaty palms wrap around the glass. The Dragon scoffs inside my mind.

“Oh, little dove, I could have this, and all its history rendered to soot before you can scream.”

His eyes pierce through me, I know that he is correct.

“And lower the jam jar, seriously, you’ll do more damage to yourself than me.”

I shift on my feet; I try to remember the stance that Bodhi taught me in case I need to fight. It was unfortunate that the General of Airedale stridden past because I heard none of what she said in the presence those muscles ripping through his shirt. A holy site to be revered.

I could send for him, my damsel in distress story. Then he could sweep me from my feet, take to me to his house where Bodhi and I can raid his library. Among other things.

The Dragon clears his throat, my gaze whips to him. “You’re one sad, strange lady. You seriously think that he has looked at you once?”

“He has.” I snap. A wave of guilt rises in my chest at my tone. Only reserved for that one stray cat that takes natures course in my garden.

A rough chuckle, a rare sight for the Doom Dragon rattles through my mind. “Whatever you say. Now are we going to speak of the main issue at hand?”

“I will get the authorities; you will be sent back to what cave you crawled out of.”

“I think that was you who manifested me here. What is it? Bored of life in the wonderful Airedale? Because I too, was rather lonely sitting on a pile of rubble. Besides I won’t be long.”

My hands meet his rough scales, each one rippling with a golden aurora, as warm as the sunrise. A power that no one in this side of the century even dared to awaken. I try to use whatever strength I have to shove him back into the canvas.

“Ah, ah, ah.” The Dragon lets out a scolding tsk. “You’ll be glad to know that this is temporary.”

I try to move the brute into the linen canvas, only for the threads to snag on the rough spikes of his thorax. “Get back in the painting.”

“I do not think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have something to say to you.”

The Dragon’s golden gaze holds mine; a steady breath coupled with a faint sulphur blows into my face.

“I am now manifested from a different era. A terrible bend in the magic rules of your world. And I have seen a few sad little attempts of you trying to woo the General.”

My definition of wooing a male in this Kingdom is giving about three seconds of eye contact and then bolting for the door. I know especially with the General that he would need someone on his level.

My life, the one I worked hard to build for my sister and I; I will defend it with everything I have and more. We had gone through the depths of despair to come out the other side, between parents and war, it was always us from the beginning. Bodhi would set anyone alight. Only when completely provoked. She is a nice monster when she wants to be.

Unlike this imbecile in front of me.

“If people were to find out about this display, well, that could end badly for you and your sister. And whatever this life is that you built.”

It is my turn to let out a scoff. “My life is fine, Dragon.”

“Ruel.”

“What?”

“My name is Ruel. And you are going to listen to me, Elowen.”

I shake my head; I tug on a wayward strand of my hair from my braid. “Now you get to make demands?”

A single talon of his brushes the edge of my chin, forcing my eyes to his.

“A small agreement, if you will. It is either this or I will have to pay a visit to your sister.” A single flame brushes my cheek, an iron-clad promise underneath his words.

The talon leaves my chin, dropping to his side. The scales of his skin glimmer with an icy chill.

I draw in a breath, my chest heaving. “What do you want?”

“What I want is to pass on a bit of wisdom while I am Earthside.”

“And in return?” I ask folding my arms.

“In return, you will have gotten some more knowledge for that pretty head. I wouldn’t mind taking a handful of those headache teabags you make and a cup of it. Hop to it.”

I ignore the heat in my cheeks rising. What knowledge could I want? The knowledge I know now is that guards can probably scent the Dragon, I guess, Ruel, from a mile away.

And not my precious tea. It took me a round trip to the fields near a random bush that spawns every thirty years.

The only thing that I was after when I came to this town was a life. A life with my sister, to settle down and flourish. I had gotten to the settling part. Just not to flourishing. I know with the General, I could be like my sister. A warrior, I could be his equal. I could have a purpose for once in my life.

Which is why I find myself nodding to the Dragon, Ruel. I hand him the teabags.

“As long as you get out of here soon.”

In a flash of light, the golden and green shades flash into my vision, I hold up a hand to cover my eyes. The smoke billows around us, catching in my throat causing me to cough violently that I nearly topple over.

Strong arms with tanned skin covered by crisp linen shirt and black pants. No talons, no scales.

A man.

The golden eyes again, glints of the fields of Airedale flicker in the green details of his irises. Mahogany waves spill over his chiselled face. Taking a worn leather strap that has seen better days, the man gathers his shoulder length hair away from his face. That one curl cascading to his brow.

My breath is ragged in my lungs, my lips quivering at this male. His deep voice speaks aloud, one forged in whiskey. His pink lips curl into a smirk. One that sends my heart hammering.

“So, Little Dove, where is that cup of tea? You are a terrible hostess for your guests. I have a few moments until the abyss pulls me back.”

Trailing off to the kitchen, I rummage through the jars to grab the teabag. God, I even hand sewn the bags with lavender thread because I was as proud as punch. All the creativity gone to waste.

Ruel’s imposing frame settles in my rickety chair beside the canvas. I fetch him the tea, in a mug I had buried in the back of the cupboard. He is not getting my favourite mug with the hand painted blue bells.

My fingers brush against his, the callouses caressing my skin before he takes a long sip. Gosh, I need to get a fated enchanted love like they talk about in the books. If this sends me nearly buckling, God help me when an actual male comes along. I highly doubt that.

“Do not doubt that.” Ruel states as he sips the lavender liquid. “Oh, I can hear what is rattling around in that mind. It is worse than the first wars.”

A whinge escapes my lips. I go to turn out of the room, but I am too curious because I will want to know what he says. I never get anything too amazing these days.

“What a grumbly little dove. Sit down, let’s talk.”

With a groan, I shove the worn velvet footstool to sit down. His powerful legs cross as he sits. “You what to know what I think?”

I hum in reply, I do not know how to even sit properly on this low stool, I make a move to cross my leg over my knee, yep, I cannot do that, too awkward.

Leaning forward, Ruel rests his elbows on his knees. “Settle. I have seen warriors and idiots alike. I won’t stroke your ego, but you need to recognise what you have done today.”

“Yes, I altered time. I won’t say anything.”

“That is the issue. Do you not realise that no one since my time has been able to do that?”

I stammer out my words, my face is now roaring red. “It was nothing.”

Ruel’s smirk softens, only by a fraction. “I am the Doom of Dawnlight, and I can’t do that. You have more power than you think.”

I pick at a bit of dried paint stuck to my knuckle, sending the flakes to the floor. “You’re thinking of Bodhi.”

“Did I stutter, Little Dove?” Ruel asks, hooking a finger to my chin, his golden gaze embers with flame, not to destroy, to soothe. “I have been alive too long. While Bodhi may be a force of nature, that doesn’t mean you are too.”

A sharp exhale escapes my nose. Ruel’s fingers tap under my chin before he twirls a strand of my hair in his finger.

“It has been a long time since I have been to Airedale. A long time since I have seen gentleness. People need the Flame, but people also need the refuge. A fire outside of a boundary turns to chaos. You are the protector. You are the fawn that pants for water, a safe place.”

I hold his gaze, his bearded face is soft, yet unyielding. My heart feels that fire of his. The words tumble out of my mouth about the General in the warmth of the room.

“I am not his safe place.”

The auroras dance around Ruel, his cold hand cups my cheek for a moment too short. The glow starts to wrap around him, my chest tightens. It won’t be long now.

“Be a safe place for you first. Build it and they will come.”

As quick as he came, he was as just as quick as he left. The auroras almost blind me as they flash in my eyes. His thumb brushes my bottom.

Silence fills the room. I look around, my breath catches in my throat. I sit slumped on the stool.

The painting of the storm stands pristine on its canvas. Perhaps now, I should listen to words of wisdom from an ancient creature. I can believe that he knows what he is talking about.

Or I can at the least begin to try.