by Carly Fall
Now that was something he and Eric could agree on.
“I shall leave you now and return the Moonstone to its proper place. When you are ready, you and Tirvu shall make your appearance to the people, and you may enter your sanctuary then.”
He furrowed his brow, thoroughly confused. Maybe he was just tired, but it sounded like this guy thought he was staying. “What are you talking about? I’ll be heading home.”
The Grand Dragon stepped out of the pool and grinned. “Why would you want to leave your people?”
“Excuse me if this sounds rude, but this isn’t where I belong. I know Tirvu thought I was Eorricris, and I have to admit, it would be nice to think I am someone besides Eric from Chicago. But, I’m not. I’m an unemployed computer programmer who got caught up in this mess and decided to help Tirvu. That’s it.”
The man crossed his arms over his chest, but his smile never faltered.
“If you are simply Eric from Chicago, how do you explain the sign of our people on your chest?”
“What?”
Eric looked down and gasped. The area of his chest that had been itching him for so long now had a large dragon as if tattoo-ed on it. He rubbed at it, but it didn’t come off.
He’d been branded.
As the Grand Dragon walked away, he couldn’t stop staring at his chest.
What the …
Had Tirvu been right all along? Was he really Eorricris, a dragon shifter?
He glanced over at Tirvu’s shoulder, where she carried her dragon marking, and he recalled seeing one just like his on the chest of the Grand Dragon, as well as the guard with the spear.
As he gently packed the mud all over Tirvu’s body, he tried to come up with a simple explanation of why he now had a large tattoo across his chest.
None came to him.
21
Tirvu walked into the Grand Dragon’s private quarters feeling better than she had in days. The Healing Pond, along with a large meal and some water, had been just what she needed. Her body was covered in pink lines from where the knife wounds had been inflicted, and some would scar, but she would live, and her world was finally at peace. That was all that mattered.
She hadn’t seen the Moonstone being placed in its rightful spot, but she had witnessed an end to the fighting and everyone coming together in prayer. According to the Grand Dragon, the people had insisted on hearing from her and Eorricris, and she intended to oblige them. But first, the Grand Dragon had summoned her into his private quarters.
Eric had been very quiet since she’d woken up in the Healing Pond. She’d questioned what had been on his mind, but he hadn’t shared anything. It hadn’t come as a surprise to her when his dragon marking had made its appearance, but it only furthered her belief that he was Eorricris. She just wished he would finally admit to it.
“My lord,” she said with a bow as she stopped in the doorway of his chambers.
“Tirvu. Please come.”
As she walked in, she found Eric sitting at the long white marble table with the Grand Dragon, and she took a seat across from him.
“Our people want to hear from both of you,” the Grand Dragon said. “They need to hear the truth of what happened to the Moonstone and how it was returned to us. You both shall tell your tale together, and then Eorricris will take on the role of the Grand Dragon for his people.”
She arched her eyebrows and turned to Eric.
He shook his head. “Look, I don’t know how I’m supposed to be a leader in a place where I don’t belong.”
“You have the marking,” Tirvu said, nodding at his chest. He apparently still appreciated clothing more than his natural form as he’d dressed once again.
“Okay, fine. I have the marking. But I can’t turn into a dragon. I’m … I’m nothing like any of you.”
She sighed. “Yes, you are, Eric. You’re very brave, and you have a good—”
“Our creators, Bighor and Cormun, predicted this event,” the Grand Dragon interrupted. “It ends when you take your rightful place on the throne of your people.”
Tirvu gasped. “What do you mean, they predicted it?”
The Grand Dragon stood. “It is in the scrolls. I’ll fetch them for you and Eorricris to read.”
She stared at her hands as they waited. The scrolls had always been ensconced away with the Grand Dragons, the only ones who could touch them. Regular shifters were not permitted.
When he handed the blue parchment to her, her hands trembled. It was such an honor to handle something that came from the Creators!
As she unrolled it, she could feel the power of Bighor and Cormun from the paper. It was almost as if their energy was in the room with them. It hung heavily in the air and settled around them, causing her shoulders to sag just a bit, as if they’d laid their hands on her.
“Read it out loud so Eorricris can hear it,” the Grand Dragon said from behind her.
She nodded as she gently brushed her fingertips over the symbols that made up her language.
“Great war shall befall upon our people when our hearts disappear. One hero will be intent on returning the symbol of our people to its rightful place. Yet, perish he will, in a time and place that is not our own.”
She glanced over at Eric, who stared out the window at the purple skies. So far, the creators had been spot on in their prediction.
“A female built of honor and integrity shall grasp at the tendrils of time until she can move forth with the river of revenge. With the help of the hero, she shall redeem herself and our people—”
Eric put his hand out. “Can I please see that?”
She glanced over at the Grand Dragon for permission. He nodded, and she slid it across the table.
As Eric stared at it, she wondered what was going through his mind. Certainly, it would seem he’d be overwhelmed with the idea that he was indeed one of them, and that he belonged here. He’d fought the idea for so long, it must be frustrating to have the truth mounting up in front of him.
They waited in silence as Eric studied the parchment. It was written in her language. Would he be able to read it? If so, it would only be more evidence that he was one of her kind.
However, even if he came to the rightful conclusion, that didn’t mean he would stay. It wasn’t as if they could keep him here. They wouldn’t imprison him. If he wished to live in the human world, then so be it.
Her heart would break into a thousand pieces all over again at the loss, but at least, she could take pride in having brought peace to her world.
Eric stood so fast, the high back chair tipped over, causing her to jump in her seat and gasp. He rubbed his hand over his head as he paced back and forth. The Grand Dragon stared at him curiously. His idiosyncrasies were something that one didn’t see in this realm. Dragon-shifters tended to remain fairly neutral in most aspects of their lives, saving their emotions for those close to them.
“Tirvu, I need to talk to you,” Eric finally said, his gaze sad.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and knew he planned to say goodbye.
Standing, she took a deep breath and followed him out of the room. Her suspicions were confirmed when he moved in front of the portal that could take him back to his world.
He grabbed both her hands in his as he searched her face. She arranged her features into a neutral position. She wouldn’t allow him to see how badly this was going to hurt her—for his sake and hers.
She knew he cared for her, and that saying goodbye would be difficult for them both. He’d waged a war to give her the opportunity to return the Moonstone, but also for her life. He could have allowed the demons to kill her and be done with their crazy journey, but instead, he’d brought factions together that otherwise wouldn’t hesitate to murder the other, finding the one thing they all hated, and forced them to work as one unit.
It had been a brilliant plan.
“Listen, Tirvu, I can’t stay.”
She nodded and squeezed his fingers. “I know.”<
br />
“I-I care a lot about you, but this place … your ways … all of it just isn’t for me. Maybe at one time it was, but I don’t belong here.”
The first blow to her heart had landed. She forced a smile through the exquisite pain of losing him again, not wanting to hear any more from him.
“Go, Eric. Go to where you believe you should be.”
He dropped her hands, then looked over to the portal. “How do I do this? Just step in there and then what?”
“Concentrate on where you want to go, and it will take you there. Picture it in your mind. Don’t lose the thought, or you may end up somewhere you don’t want to be.”
He nodded, then moved over to the portal.
“Goodbye, Eric,” she said as the tears threatened to fall. “Thank you for all you have done for me.”
She placed her hand over her heart and bent her head, unable to look him in the eye any longer.
“May the dragon in you always stay strong.”
After waiting a few moments, she glanced up, hoping to find him gone.
The space before the portal was empty, and her breath hitched as the ache in her chest grew.
For so long, she’d been so focused on finding Eorricris for both personal reasons and to bring home the Moonstone.
She didn’t know what hurt worse—losing him the first time to events beyond their control, or watching him walk away on his own accord.
* * *
Eric crawled out of the hole at the foot of the Peter Saint statue, the area around him as chaotic as it had been when the paranormal entities had arrived.
Celestria and her pack chased down vampires, herding them into the pit and sending them back to where they had come from. Angels flew above, doing the same to the demons. Ghosts ran by him, witches waged wars on each other with magic spewing from their hands, and the people of Saint’s Grove were nowhere to be found.
He didn’t blame them. He wished he’d never stepped foot into the town. If he hadn’t, he’d simply be an unemployed computer programmer trying to figure out the rest of his life.
Walking over to the edge of the grass, he sat down on the curb and took in the mêlée around him.
If he were honest with himself, he’d admit he’d left Tirvu out of stark fear. When he’d taken the scroll, at first, the strange symbols hadn’t made any sense to him, but then something in his brain had shifted, and the longer he’d stared at it, the clearer it had become.
The white and the black, both of strong hearts and bravery, shall heal the friction between our own, showing that intertwining lives brings peace.
The whole damn thing was written in vague, almost riddle-like form. He preferred things more cut and dry, not so arbitrary.
Rubbing his face, he tried to put the situation into facts.
First, he now had this dragon tattoo on his chest, and he could read the damn scrolls that were in a language he’d never even known existed. Tirvu had killed his father, which she claimed left him as the rightful heir to the Grand Dragon throne. Based on that, he was the ‘black’ that the creators mentioned in the scrolls. He couldn’t see any other way to read into it.
If that were the case, then he was supposed to lead a faction of dragon-shifters when he couldn’t even turn into a dragon. How the hell was that supposed to work? And why would any of them listen to him? Tirvu’s people had physical and mental strength he’d never witnessed before. If he’d ever thought he had any badass in him, after meeting Tirvu and some of her people, he’d been woefully mistaken.
Who was the ‘white’ the creators spoke of? The other Grand Dragon? Or Tirvu? Did this mean that he and Tirvu would become a couple?
The whole thing made his head spin.
Depression sank over him like a heavy fog. He didn’t feel he belonged in Tirvu’s world, but after what he’d been through during the past week, he couldn’t imagine going back to his old, boring life. Tirvu had shaken up his world, beginning with her appearing in his dreams. From there, she’d taken him on a journey he could have never imagined, and because of his deep feelings for her, he’d seen a side of himself he never knew he had. Most people wouldn’t approach a werewolf, work with vampires, or take on demons. Instead, they’d run. He’d stayed to fight.
He would miss everything about Tirvu—her bright eyes, her tenacity, all that snowy, white hair, her childlike innocence about this world, yet, at the same time she seemed so old. They’d shared an adventure together that had burned her into his heart and soul. He couldn’t imagine being with another woman.
If that’s the case, then why the hell are you sitting here?
How could he be a partner to a woman who could turn into a dragon? How could he ever compete with her strong spirit and body?
Maybe you don’t need to compete with her, to be her equal. Maybe you just need to love her.
Could it really be that simple?
He glanced around again and realized the seams would be closing soon. The paranormal entities had thinned out considerably, and he now had a choice to make.
Did he go somewhere he didn’t quite fit in, where his life would be different beyond anything he could have imagined, or did he stay with predictability?
Getting to his feet, he sighed, truly torn about the decision at hand. A man walking toward the Peter Saint statue caught his eye, and recognition flared in his chest.
Dressed in a business suit, Eric remembered him vividly as one of the demons.
Where is she? he’d asked. The woman with the white hair?
I’ve had a lot of fun with her, the demon had answered with a laugh.
The demon he thought had hurt Tirvu.
Explosive anger ignited within him, sending fire throughout his veins. Sparks of light danced before his eyes as heat burst across his skin. Apparently, the demon had survived the angels’ attack.
Eric stared at the man walking toward the hole. His whole body began to vibrate, and he heard his bones snap.
The rage consumed him to the point he couldn’t think of anything that was happening to him. The ripping sound of the seams of his clothes met his ears while black scales grew from his flesh on his hands and arms. Heat rose up from his very soul, consuming every inch of him. With it came a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. Gone were the civilities he’d spent his whole life learning and living by. Instead, it was as if he were being transported back in time, to an era where he was uninhibited, where manners and etiquette didn’t matter. A time of … freedom. A time when things were simpler and more animalistic, almost barbaric. The demon had hurt Tirvu, and as his body morphed and changed, his thoughts of revenge and destroying it overshadowed everything.
He was going to bathe in the blood of the demon that had almost killed Tirvu. His lips turned into a grin as he recognized the very words she had once said.
Glancing down at his feet, he realized he now had claws. His mouth felt hot, as if it had just given birth to fire.
The demon was his, and he knew exactly what to do with it.
He moved forward, not bothering to try to hide his impressive dragon form. Standing at a good eight feet or so, he would be looking down at the top of the demon’s head. As he lifted his legs, the strength in them awed him. He felt invincible, as if nothing in this world could overpower him.
The demon finally noticed him, and his eyes widened in shock. He then glanced over at the pit below the Peter Saint statue, as if he were considering making a run for it.
Not on his watch.
Eric swished his tail around, surprised by how easily the movement came to him, almost as if he belonged in his dragon form. He harnessed the power with ease and grace, his body moving as if he’d been a dragon his entire life.
He connected with the demon and sent him away from the gaping hole, back to where Eric could get a hold of him.
Within seconds, he had the creature flat on his back, trapped under his claw. He wasted no time toying with the demon, and instead, leaned over, grasped his head into his
strong jaws, then pulled it from the body.
He shook his head as he tried to dislodge the smell of sulfur and rotting flesh from his snout. His eyes watered as he turned toward the gaping hole, an idea coming to mind.
A few days ago, he would have considered the thought barbaric and disgusting, but not now. In fact, his idea was perfect in every way.
22
Tirvu stared at the parchment, wondering how the creators could have made such a terrible mistake.
The white and the black, both of strong hearts and bravery, shall heal the friction between our own, showing that intertwining lives brings peace.
She had originally considered that had meant Eric would take the throne as the Grand Dragon of the Sky, but he was gone. Who was the ‘black’ they referred to? It had to be someone who had not yet entered the picture.
With a sigh, she sat back in the chair, her fingers tracing over the parchment. She’d been so certain Eric would eventually see that he was Eorricris, that he belonged in this realm, with her. She’d been wrong about that, as well.
She heard a scuffle coming from the area of the castle where the portal was located. It should be shutting at any minute. Was there a last-minute visitor who’d come to do her people harm once again?
She ran silently over to the area, debating on whether to shift into her dragon form, but decided to wait and see what she was up against. It may just be someone who had lost their way as they scrambled to get back to their own world.
As she rounded the corner, her breath caught in her throat. A large, black dragon with coal eyes stood before her … with a head in its mouth?
This is for you.
She heard Eric’s voice in her head, and her knees weakened as she realized she was staring at him.
He’d found his dragon?
As she leaned up against the cool, marble wall, her gaze flickered to the head. Slowly, recognition set in, and she couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face.
It was the demon that had tortured her. Eric had brought her his head, and she couldn’t imagine a more perfect present.