Final Chapter. Thank you for your patience. I know that for some of you, this tale has become tiresome. I sincerely hope, however, that if you have stuck to the bitter end, you will feel more than relief that it's over. Thank you all for the time you took to read, critique and express your opinions and suggestions. You have no idea how wonderful it was to get your feedback. I truly enjoyed making this up.

Chapter 42: Wings of the Dawn

“Let me ask you something,” Raphael continued as they all watched Grafnon press closer to the statue of Elsie, a red glow beginning to engulf them. They could barely tear their eyes from the sight of what he was doing. Their eyes eagerly sought movement from her. In the dim light, they wondered if her color was returning or not.

John glanced guiltily at the Dark Master, who still lay forlornly on the kitchen floor. He looked back at his wife in Grafnon’s embrace, and felt a heated warmth travel strangely throughout the realm of his soul. This didn’t seem right…but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

They all awaited the angel’s next words.

“Do you remember when the City came under attack, and everyone was evacuated from it? There were two people left behind. One was an old man who could not move from his deathbed. The other was a toddler that Asmodeus turned into ice.”

Raphael’s voice continued to explain. “Who was it that saved the toddler from being dashed to pieces? A great ball of fire came from the Citadel, but none of the inhabitants of that place initiated the counter attack, because none of them were aware that the toddler was in danger.”

What was the Archangel on about? What toddler?

Elsie opened her eyes. The toddler. The one she had frozen into a meat popsicle. As a demon, she wanted more than anything to eat the cold icy boy, if only to slake the raging thirst caused by the flaming pits of hell. To watch him fall, taking his life away, was the next best thing to cause the demon delight.

Where had that ball of flame come from?

The kiss deepened exquisitely, then began to retreat in its intensity. Grafnon loosened his grip on her waist, and pulled his body slightly away from hers. They both moaned as the full force of the kiss hit them. The chilling temperatures had totally retreated, and the fire that had risen up was retreating in perfect concert, as if the two forces were canceling each other out to the last molecule.

Finally, catching his breath, he lifted his head away and stared into her eyes.

“Grafnon!” she exclaimed, and gave him a great shove. He took two steps back. She put the back of her hand to her mouth and tried to step away, but felt something snag. She lifted the skirt of her dress back a bit and looked down at her foot. Her baby toe was still cold and grey and stuck to the floorboard. It didn’t hurt, but the two of them stared at it for a moment.

Then, without a word, he knelt down putting his hands on either side of her foot and lowered his heated lips to the small digit. She drew her breath in, astonished. Her body reacted strongly to his touch and she totally denied what she was feeling. Rampant emotions crossed her face, and as soon as her toe was free and warm, she pulled it out from under his lips, even though her foot did not want to move from there.

Grafnon closed his eyes, leaving his body where it crouched for one lingering moment, as if he drank from an imaginary stream, then slowly stood up, trying to calm his body and senses down. It’s only a physical reaction, he tried to tell himself. He had to admit, it had been the most powerful reaction he had ever experienced, and he gazed darkly at Elsie.

Bit by bit, they were aware of the ruckus outside becoming quieter.

“Why did you do that?” he roughly demanded. “If it wasn’t for Raphael,…”

“Don’t you know what that knife is?” she quietly countered, interrupting the tirade he was about to begin. “How did it know your blood?” She looked around the room as if only now becoming aware of everyone standing in it. Her eyes locked onto the Dark Master. “You DARED to awaken that thing! How in heaven’s name did you carry that around with you without going mad?”

“How did it know YOUR blood? What do you know of it?” he sneered at her. He shakily stood up. “You appear to be well. The labour didn’t kill you. It looked as if it would. We rushed over here as fast as possible.” He paused, then speculatively said, “What will it take to kill you?” More than ever, his theory of her being the Victim seemed true.

Everyone in the room lapsed into astonished silence.

The door suddenly burst open, and the Captain of the renegades rushed in, his bloody bandage askew, nearly covering his right eye. He was breathing heavily, his other eye wild. “There are people here!” he informed them quickly, but unable, in his agitated state, to qualify that statement but to repeat it inanely. “There are PEOPLE here!” Then he blabbered, “They fell from the SKY!”

He darted a wary glance over his shoulder and then rushed into the room as if chased by the vilest monster.

Renegades fear nothing and no one. They were soldiers used to fighting every kind of monster. Everyone took a fast look through the door before the man tried closing it. But the door didn’t close all the way. They could glimpse nothing untoward through the darkened doorway. All the men who weren’t already standing in the kitchen, stood up now. They went for their weapons and looked at the door as it slowly, inexorably swung open.

Still, the darkness revealed nothing but ominous shapes darker than the darkness into which they peered.

One of the shapes disengaged from the darkness and approached. With that shape came a power that caused everyone but the angel to step back. A strange weakness pervaded their bodies as into the dim light of the room, a man entered the room. He was clothed in a long cloak of many shades of green. The hood of the cloak was deep, and hid his features from them. He lifted his hands to the hood and revealed his face to them.

His hair was green. Before their eyes, the green seemed to fade, and the features of his face seemed to be coalescing into human aspect from ones that seemed lizard-like. From between his lips, a forked tongue darted out, then retreated back between lips that were thin, then became fuller as they watched.

He held out his hand, and his eyes were on Elsie. From his hand, a soft light began to glow, and a ball of light floated upward, illuminating the room. His eyes, golden upon their initial notice, remained golden. “I am the Heart of the Volcano,” he introduced.

His voice was commanding, and he stepped toward Elsie.

John moved forward, imposing his body between Elsie and the strange creature.

The man flicked his golden gaze at him, and with a gesture, pushed the ranger back. “Do not interfere,” he said. “She belongs to us.” His eyes took in the scene before him until it rested upon the babe in the arms of Wilhelm. He looked at the King, his eyes dangerous. “Have you named him?”

Wilhelm found his voice, but it came out quiet and uncertain. “No..ah…” he began to say.

The young man’s features became a little more human, and a smile traced the curve of his mouth. “Noah,” he repeated.

He stepped closer to Wilhelm in order to get a better look at the child. Still, everyone stepped away from him, sensing how dangerous he was. Although he was already up against the table, Wilhelm tried to step back and shelter the child even more.

The young man stopped going in the direction of the child when he saw their fear, and once again turned his attention to Elsie, his eyes flicking over Grafnon as if he were insignificant. “I am the Eyes of the Wind,” he announced, looking deeply into Elsie’s eyes.

His name had power to make everyone in the room to have the breath taken from their lungs. Elsie could only stare at him, mesmerized by his eyes. She had become pale and confused. “Come no further, dragon!” she managed to say.

Andrew gave a visible start. Of all the people in the room, he was the only one to find familiarity with the entity that had entered the house.

The young man gave a dry laugh. “It is true that I began my life as a dragon.” His features juxtaposed, finally into a work of art that any human could stare at for hours and not tire of. His voice was melodious and strong, mesmerizing and powerful. They were silent only to allow their ears to hear it. “So the spell was stronger on me than on anyone else, yet the first to break.”

He stood in front of Elsie, towering over her. He glanced down at the hilt of the knife, which lay in pieces and dust at his feet. “You did this?”

Mutely, she nodded.

He stood in silence before her, unable to say anything for a while. “You have done what no one else was capable of,” he finally said. “Has your sanity then, returned?”

Again, without words, she nodded.

“Do you know what it is that you have done?” he softly asked.

For some reason, she felt tears in her eyes and a strange knot forming in her throat as she shook her head.

He reached out his hand and held her chin. He opened his mouth and breathed on her.

Startled, Elsie tried to back away. She held her breath and closed her eyes. She placed both hands on his wrist, but found that she could not match his strength. An inarticulate fear rose up within her and she let out a kind of whimpering mew. But she had to breathe, didn’t she? She let out a gasp and inhaled, helpless to do anything else. The dragon’s breath caused a heady sensation within her mind.

Her hands dropped from his wrist, her eyes became wide and staring. “What do you see?” he whispered.

“Death,” she answered in a tone that seemed not hers at all, but some tired spirit summoned from the dead sent to give answers to the living. Her eyes were focused on nothing that they could see. “Blood,” she continued.

He gave her chin a shake. “What do you see now?” his tone held a note of hope in it as if she were the key to telling him the mystery of life.

“People. Trees. They cut them down…the trees are people….” Her eyes took on a confused cast, clouding their color. “They hid. The people became…what their enemies could not see.” She hesitated. “But they saw them all the time. They did not know what they were looking at.”

She continued hesitantly, as if unsure of the horizons her eyes could now see. “They cut down the forest beside the Inn, thinking…thinking that the Magic was there…”

For a moment, the dragon broke his glance, shifting it to Grafnon, who summoned power into his hands. “Take your hands off of her!” the Lizard Mage glowered.

The two men stared at each other, and then the dragon removed his hand from her chin. “I am Wings of the Dawn,” he finally said, and Grafnon was disconcerted to see the magic leaving his hands. Startled, he put up his arms in defense, and the dragon man blasted him with a stream of blue, which sent the Lizard Mage up against the far wall.

“I have no other names but dragon names. I have no human name, and now, instead of having to devour all of you as I would have as a dragon, I will have to satisfy myself by killing you one at a time.” He pulled a long narrow blade from a sheath hidden beneath his cloak. Then he gave a crooked smile and sheathed the sword. “Or, as I am no longer a dragon, I could change my name to Brian or Jack or Steven.” He smiled again, this time directing it at Andrew, who shook his head.

“So the dragons….” Andrew began, prompting the fellow to explain.

“There aren’t any dragons,” the man returned simply. “We had merely forgotten that we were human.”

“Until…?” Andrew again prompted.

His golden eyes glanced significantly at the dust on the floor that had once been a hilt. “Until the spell was broken.”

“What spell?” the Dark Mage asked, glowering. “The Dance of Fire?”

“Simon and his brother initiated the Dance of Fire. Everyone had forgotten about us by then. We were long gone. We were a figment of our own imagination.” The creature took a deep breath. “I speak of the spell that began at the Citadel when the fearless leader was executed in front of all the Achthillians. There is no name for a spell that I never saw cast, that’s why I was trying to get Elsie to tell me.”

“I felt that spell,” Grafnon said from his place on the floor. “It’s like a web that draws you in.”

The young man smiled wolfishly and shook his head. “That’s probably a dungeon spell, meant to ensnare evil-doers. The Citadel has always belonged to us. Now that we can no longer hide, we will reclaim it.”

Elsie quietly spoke. “I was too young to see any spell cast. I never knew there were Mages in the world until I was fifteen, and even then, I forgot about it until Grafnon began using his power against the Kingdom of Achthillia.”

They were distracted by a sound from the stairway, where a young blonde girl made her appearance, her torso covered only with bandages. She gave a shaky smile and started coming down the stairs. “Hi, my name is Angela.”

“You shouldn’t be up yet!” Naomi exclaimed with some concern.

“Well, I had to…” she began, but stopped speaking when she noticed how many men there were in the room. She finished her sentence, whispering in Naomi’s ear. “…relieve myself. There was no chamber pot.”

“Oh!” Naomi said, and put a supporting arm around the girl’s waist. They made their way to the door, but the dragon man said, “I wouldn’t go out there right now, if I were you.”

The two girls exchanged glances, then continued. They opened the door into the darkness and stepped out into it. Hundreds of men and women stood around the dwelling, their faces dreamy, half-formed by what they had concealed themselves as.

Some were partly covered in bark, their faces and bodies contorted by tree-like forms. Some seemed nightmarishly stuck in half-animal states, snarling and snapping, in the midst of transforming back into their natural states, although, not having been human for a very long time now, they had become partly embedded into the forms they were attempting to divest themselves of.

The two girls met the eyes of pain and agony and shame, and their minds were overwhelmed with horror and pity. Angela turned her face into Naomi’s shoulder. “Let’s go back in!” she whispered hoarsely. “I can hold it for a while, honestly!” They backed back into the house and closed the door, breathing heavily.

“What in the Name of God was that?” Naomi shakily asked, unable to tear her eyes off of the door, thinking that at any moment, the latch might lift allowing the monsters in. But after expressing herself, she looked up at the dragon man.

Wings of the Dawn gave her a sad glance. “I know; I shouldn’t be here. I should be out there, with them. But, but we need her. We need her to heal us.” He turned back to Elsie. “Will you help us?”

Elsie felt the last vestiges of the effects of his spell dissipating. His words seemed surreal, slow and echo-like. She nodded like an automaton. “Yes,” she said, and followed him.

“Don’t go out there!” hissed the Dark Mage as she passed him. “In order to break that spell, they may have to devour you!”

She paused, turned to face him and asked point blank, “What do you care?” Then she followed the dragon outside, and as soon as the door closed behind her, a sudden inhuman cry went up. A snarling, scuffling, banging up against the door noises caused everyone within the room trepidation, but when the thin scream of Elsie from afar came to their ears, John leapt to the door in order to open it.

But, as with the time he was trapped in The Pig’s Sty, so now did he discover the same spell kept the door firmly shut against all their efforts. “No! God Damn It, NO! Not again!” He knew it was useless to try breaking the door, but it didn’t stop his body from ramming itself against the oaken planks. “Elsie! ELSIE!”

In the distance, her screams of pain and agony faded into whimpers. The growling, snapping and snarling also faded. After a long moment of utter silence, a great thunk was heard against the house, as if a tree had fallen and hit the roof. The entire structure shook to its foundations. The door swung open, revealing the pre-dawn light washing the horizon a rosy hue.

John stepped uncertainly outside. The place was deserted. Not one noise came to his sharp ears. The faint breeze blew his hair across his eyes, but his glance found nothing and no one in the landscape.

Then he saw her lying underneath a tree. She was stretched out on her back her arms and legs splayed, her dress in tatters. “Elsie!” he muttered beneath his breath, and he quickly made his way over to her, glancing cautiously everywhere for signs of the people that had been outside only moments before.

He knelt beside her. Mary had followed him out, as had everyone else. But Mary was the one who came all the way to the tree with him.

John was hardly aware of her. He traced his fingers across Elsie’s face, and was gratified to see that she breathed. “No more,” she mumbled. “I can’t do any more.”

“Elsie, it’s me, John. Wake up,” he softly coaxed, clasping one of her hands in his. When her eyes came open part way, he felt a thud in his chest and he smiled. “What happened?” he softly enquired.

“I had a dream, John,” she looked around, puzzled that she was outside under a tree. “I guess it wasn’t a dream.” She ruminated for a moment, then looked into his face. “We have a son?”

John nodded.

“Wilhelm named him Noah?” she asked.

He nodded again.

She gave a deep sigh and smiled. “I can go then.”

John felt a great trepidation twist in his chest. “Elsie,” he whispered, but then couldn’t go on. She meant to die here. “What happened?”

She focused on his face, her eyes searching his as if memorizing the depths of grey. “It doesn’t matter now. They’re free.” She smiled again, and said, “Take care of Noah.” She drew in a deep, shaking breath and her eyelids fell halfway across her eyes.

“Damn it, Elsie, I never should have let you come with me on this walkabout, I knew it was dangerous! I knew as soon as you said that you wanted to find that angel that we’d never come home again! Elsie! Elsie, are you listening to me? We never should have left! And what was with that kiss Grafnon gave you? I’m going to kill that bastard! He never should have lived after the Battle of Kayru!”

She did not breathe in and her head rolled to the right. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up to press her against his chest and said no more. With all the strength in his arms, he held her, as if willing her back to life. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent from her hair. After all that, she still died anyway. He couldn’t understand the reason for it. Why allow Grafnon to bring her back to life, and why in that manner? It wasn’t right!

He felt Mary’s small hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment, and composed himself. He threaded one arm underneath Elsie’s knees, his other securely around her back and stood up. His face like stone, he went passed them all and brought her back into the farmhouse. He took her body upstairs and laid it on the bed.

As far as he could tell, there was no mark on her body. The only explanation he could think of was that the dragon had sucked the life right out of her. Was there no magical elixir that could restore her? Was there nothing at all to bring her back to him?

He was barely aware of Grafnon standing in the doorway, but when he was, he said bitterly, “What do you say now, Grektarian? Is she really dead this time? Or is she just in some FUCKING TRANCE?”

“She’s dead,” he answered promptly and quietly. He unfolded his arms and stood up from where he had leaned. He glanced over at the bed where his brother slept, some kind of emotion welling up within him at the sight of his helplessness. “She should have died a long time ago, Achthillian,” he relentlessly went on. “Her presence on this realm was a gift to us all. The time she spent here after she was first killed was only by God’s grace, and nothing magical could have done it. I don’t know why she had to live. I think, only to restore the lost souls of her people. She was the only one capable of that. And her life cancelled out the Dance of Fire. She stopped the Battle of Kayru. Nobody knew about the dragons until then. They would have been trapped forever. She saved everyone. How much more do you want her to do?”

John said nothing for a long time. Finally he whispered, “What happened out there?”

Grafnon couldn’t answer.