[EDITING] One day on the farm, Ciara climbs her favourite tree, only to find a magical creature lives there. A white dragonfly transforms to a baby dragon when she reaches to touch it. She lands in a world of magic, where she finds the mysterious Sk...
Ciara wrestled with sheets, the moon on her face from the skylight window, her mind in a dream.
The age between Councils seemed to pass incredibly fast or slow, as dragons pay no attention to time.
None could remember the large number of attendees at a Council Meeting, exactly. Though they were seldom held, they were always momentous occasions. The fate of humanity often rested on them. In fact, it usually did.
Whispers amongst the late-comers were sometimes of Atlantis, Lemuria and names so old, no one could remember their true location, relation or pronunciation by now. Those names had become just slurred vowels and consonants that referred to lost worlds, no longer above their watery 'wheres'.
The heat of decision-making had fully begun, boiling steam from the stone of the caves.
The 'radicals' raged endlessly about those darned humans—at it again—destroying their worlds, while the more aloof spoke in grand terms like justice and patience. But the debate would rage on, and an outcome agreed, or else Council would only continue further, into more nights and then days, and more nights again, until opinions were finally put to their rest.
Binding decisions would be decreed—and new human futures begun.
Ciara stirred in her sleep and called out.
Off to one side, a small, seemingly secretive clutch of dragons, appeared absorbed in a separate event of their own. They snorted and whispered, crooked their massive heads, as only dragons can do. They peered into time, into space and into far-off, unawakened dimensions.
Their piecing eyes rolled slightly upward, preoccupied with moon-phase, as they saw through the rock of their shadowy caves.
They searched through the history of ages. It seemed like so many parchment sheets, bound to contain some trivial stories and legends. They gladly examined the finer points: nuance, innuendo and subtleties, so slender. Only a gifted dragon's eyes could perceive what the difference in many futures aligned could conceivably one day become.
Yes, it was a point of pride with this group—their gift of wisdom and insight—that without which, they felt like they'd only be fire-breathing lizards roaming the caves and the sky.
Somehow, Ciara could hear them. She heard the voice in her dream.
"I am told I am Skye-voice."
Ciara tried very hard to go back to sleep. In her dream, she again, heard the voice from the dark in her room. "I like you. You will be my Proxy. I'll be your friend. I'll find you somehow. I will see you then—soon."
Now Ciara stayed wide awake. Where would Skye-voice come from? Who on earth could he be?
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