They are the ones whose souls desire freedom. They are those who can both destroy the world and allow it to flourish. They are dragons. Dragons dancing in fire. But the flame is not deadly, but bountiful.
The story of Dayraena of House Gelarion, rid...
Anxiety spilled over the body, making the heart beat faster. Dayraena arched her eyebrows to the bridge of her nose in her sleep, whispering and tossing and turning as if she were in a fever. Her face was covered in sweat, and a hiss escaped her lips.
"Issa kesīr, lēkia, mōrī (she's here, brother, at last)" a frighteningly low, deep, chesty female voice echoed in her head.
Dayraena realized she was asleep, but the voices rang out so clearly, as if she was awake and was now witnessing someone else's conversation. Her body, shrouded in white light, chased away the darkness that swept around her and gave the woman an unpleasant, clammy feeling of unease. It felt as if she was being watched and those invisible eyes were everywhere.
"Sīr iksi jiōragon va naejot īlva kȳvanon (so we are getting closer to our goal)," a male voice rang out this time, soft and gentle, even soothing in a way.
A shimmering circle suddenly appeared in front of Raena, as if she saw herself in a mirror, and without knowing why, she decided to touch the surface, from which immediately went circles, as if the woman had touched the water. The image changed. Two figures, their faces blurred and their heads covered with hoods, stood in a dark room lit by strange, black candles. They were tall, twisted, with razor-sharp edges. They burned with a strange, unusually bright light. It was hard not to recognize this artifact.
Glass candles.
One of the figures, the smaller one, slipped her hands out from under her cloak and held them out in front of her, fingers curled, and all was gone.
Dayraena woke up and at first it seemed to her as if the room was ablaze with fire, but it was only scarlet dawn. The woman sat up, pulling her legs up and wiping the sweat from her forehead, looking around. The tall braziers were burning for some reason, though she clearly remembered that the servants had put them out the night before...
As she got out of bed, Raena felt weak and dizzy, but after standing for a moment, she regained her senses and pulled off her nightdress, which clung unpleasantly to her shoulder blades. She shivered, still feeling anxious after waking up. What was there even to call it? It certainly wasn't an ordinary dream. She was reminded of the vision that had come to her while she was in the Flaming Dragon Castle with Daemon. Since then, Dayraena had tried to record all her dreams, but none had been as vivid and disturbing as this one.
It was imperative to memorize and write it. And that's what the woman did.
She couldn't sleep any more, so she decided to put on her robe and go to the kitchen, where she was greeted by a plump, good-natured cook who never seemed to leave her post. She welcomed her with open arms and immediately set about making bacon rolls. While Gelarion waited for her early breakfast, she went out the back door to the most overgrown part of the garden and followed the stone path to the small fountain. A pleasant coolness cooled her face and neck, getting under the wide sleeves of her robe, Dayraena inhaled the scents of flowers and freshness, listened to the sounds of waking nature. She sat down on the edge of the fountain and ran her fingers along the surface, as if expecting the reflection to change and the two mysterious figures to reappear before her.
