His Name

Eyna sat on the edge of the dock, legs drifting in the water. Every so now and then her eyes drifted back to the cage of branches where the dragon curled up. Most of the other fae had dispersed, leaving her alone with Pepper.

“What do you think is wrong, Pepper?”

Pepper didn’t ask what she meant. Nor did he look up from his snack. A strawberry biscuit. “Dunno. But he came here injured and cursed, right? That’s gotta mean something.”

“That’s… True.”

Pepper wiggled his whiskers. “Don’t push him too hard, yeah? You have no idea who hurt him. Could be someone who looked like you.”

“Or maybe someone who looked like Father. That would explain why he attacked.”

Pepper snapped his clawed fingers. “Right? Or maybe he just hates fae.”

Eyna went quiet.

The idea of hating an entire existence was foreign to her. It was like someone saying that they hated trees. Or water. One might fall from a specific tree, and feel a little sore about it. Or one might dislike getting wet, and therefore avoid going for a swim. But to direct ire on every tree, or every body of water, because of it? It seemed so alien.

Eyna placed her head in her hands. “Have you ever hated something like that, Pepper?”

Her eyes committed no judgement. She simply wondered and wanted to know. No one talked about Pepper’s past. But Pepper had once lived outside the Heartsprings. She had been young when he'd been brought in, sheltered in Father’s hands. He had been tiny and trembling, frightened by the slightest movements and sounds.

The rat paused in his meal. He looked down at the biscuit, little claws still wrapped around it. “Yeah. I have, Eyna.”

Her voice was soft. “What did you hate, Pepper?”

“Humans.”

Such a simple answer. And yet one that spoke to a difficult story. The tone of his voice indicated that he didn’t want to speak further. But in the space between words, Eyna thought deeply. Hatred. Pepper had hated humans. The dragon might hate fae. Even from the way Father conducted himself, he seemed to hold something akin to hatred when he looked at the dragon.

Eyna gently nudged at a lily-pad with her feet. “Why do people come to hate other people?”

Pepper watched the lily-pad as it lazily spun in small circles. “It’s… Always different. No two reasons are ever quite the same.”

That sounded like what Mother had said about curses. Curses were dark things, created with anger. The perfect embodiment of hate. The dragon had been cursed before he’d arrived. That would suggest that someone hated him quite a bit.

But…

He’d also spread his curse to Eyna. And if that one little ‘no’ he gave her was true, he hadn’t meant to curse her. The curse had spread to Eyna without hatred.

She submerged the lily-pad underwater for a moment. Then released it. It bobbed back to the surface. “I don’t hate anyone.”

“I know. It’s why we love you. You’ve always accepted everyone.” Pepper tossed the remains of his biscuit into the water. Tiny golden fish darted up to grab it. “I hope you never have to learn to hate anyone.”

“I won’t.”

Pepper didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Eyna was aware that her words seemed naive. And perhaps they were. But that was okay. She had her convictions. There was no room in her heart for hatred.

Eyna pulled her legs from the water, slowly rising. Pepper watched from the corner of his dark eyes. 

Eyna walked back to the dragon. She stood before him, studying him quietly.

He was curled tightly, like a snake deep in his coils. The late afternoon sun was slipping slowly into evening, casting glimmering pools of light across his silver scales. His body language radiated tension and coldness, even now.

How did one reach someone so closed off? So ensnared in a tight web of anger?

It started with something small.

“What is your name?”

Eyna reached out. Her hand passed between the branches, gently landing at the dragon’s claws. Her hand and his, aligning right where their shared curse manifested. Her black scales against his human skin. The moment both surfaces connected, it was like a current passing between them. Energy flowed, their minds like two streams meeting to form a third.

Eyna gasped.

The dragon jolted.

Their eyes met. As if magnetized, neither of them could pull themselves away. Images flitted through Eyna’s mind. Little glimpses of a world that wasn’t hers. Red blooms in a sea of gray. Wingtips breaking heavy storm clouds. A castle that sat upon a rolling hill. Most of the glimpses moved too fast for her to cling to them. But one thing remained, rising in her mind’s eye like a  lotus seeking the sun.

Her lips parted. “Sthuna. Your name is… Sthuna.”

She breathed his name like an invocation. A soft offering embraced by a tender breeze. White petals tumbled from the flowering almond trees, landing on Eyna’s dark hair. They spiraled across Sthuna’s silver scales. A few fell to the surface of the lake, creating tiny ripples. The world was hushed, but for the shivering of fragrant, heavy laden branches and flow of pure waters.

Sthuna’s gaze flickered. “Yes.”

As if ashamed, he moved his head. But Eyna gently clasped it before he could tuck himself away again. She lifted both hands, cupping his long serpentine face. Her fingertips felt along the sleek scales of his jaw. The current between them eased, but the connection remained a subtle thing, pulsing between them.

“Sthuna. Nice to meet you.”

His tail thumped hesitantly. “... Eyna.”

She smiled. “Yes.”

It was a small thing. An exchange of names. And yet, somehow, it felt like infinitely more.  Eventually Sthuna pulled away. But he didn’t try to close himself off. The wariness was still there. Yet it was tempered by something small and fragile, a subtle way in which his eyes had eased. Neither truly wished to break what had settled around them like twilight over the Heartsprings.

Sthuna grumbled. “... I could have burned off your hands, you know. Or bitten you. Badly.”

“I know.” Eyna’s voice was cheerful. “But you didn’t. And you won’t.”

“Why? You think the fact that we share a curse is going to protect you?” Sthuna’s words were acerbic, but they lacked any true venom.

Eyna tilted her head. “I wasn’t even thinking about the curse. You just won’t.”

“Ah? You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Sthuna muttered darkly under his breath, but he didn’t truly have the heart to refute her words.

Eyna leaned in. “It’s almost night, you know.”

“So?”

“So…” Eyna laced her fingers over his claws. Sthuna seemed confused by the movement, but he didn’t try to stop her. “Watch. Nighttime is always my favorite.”

The night fae emerged like the stars, pale faces turned to the three moons of Yvyrn. They were subtler than their sun warmed kindred. But no less beautiful for it.

The dance of the will-o-wisps came first. As the shadows grew long, the light of the will-o-wisps pulsed like lanterns lit in the dark. They hovered over the waters, reflected dreamily.

Crickets chirped softly, a gentle quartet in the background.

White, trumpet shaped flowers pushed up from the ground. Insects with dark eyes and fluffy antennae appeared from the earth after them. Their little limbs found the flower stalks, and ascended to their petals. Once reached, the creatures lifted their legs. Wings extended from their bodies, glowing brilliant blue. They floated upwards. And as they did so, they curled into themselves - forming undulating spirals.

Something long and sinewy with the wide body of a manta-ray passed overhead. It caught a floating insect in a graceful swoop, a cluster of eyes visible in the center of its body.

A strange keening cry echoed over the waters.

Sthuna bristled. “What’s-”

“Shhh.” Eyna hushed him. "Just watch."

Sthuna looked wary, but he went quiet.

A massive creature emerged from the dark waters. The body was nearly the size of the lake itself, but it moved with such grace that scarcely a ripple was made in passing. It was at first translucent. Nearly indiscernible. But as it took flight, delicate bioluminescent cells sparked to life in tones of purple. 

It had the long, streaming tendrils of a crystalline jellyfish. It moved like one, pulsing and rippling through the open air. But the tapered head was that of a reptile, covered in black moth wings. As it passed overhead, the moth wings fluttered open, revealing hundreds of gleaming amethyst eyes.

The creature drifted over their heads, long tendrils trailing through the air. As it swam through the waters of the night sky, it cried. The cry was a haunting melody that reverberated across the space.

Eyna turned to Sthuna, her eyes bright. She took in the astonishment on his face with delight.

“Welcome to the Heartsprings... Sthuna.”