A drawing I had seen spoke to me - in a voice so nearly audible it could have been disconcerting, had I not understood how my mind works. It looked like anime background, and the visual, not to mention that persistent Voice, prompted me to write a story. When Muse speaks, we mortals had best heed the Voice.
***
Sometimes one wakes, surprised by the surroundings amidst which one finds oneself. Nat'varen Dushja had gone through life in a mostly somnolent state, interrupted by stages of full consciousness. It seemed Fate had conspired with denizens of the underworld to surround Nat with oppressive spirits. Like others, he "went through the motions," not only because his sense of honor and duty demanded it, but because he simply knew no other way. "Normal" is rigidly defined by one's culture and one's experiences therein. Thankfully, a brave few break the confines, expanding the definitions, making them more fluid. Though they may initially be ridiculed, eventually, they are perceived as visionaries and pioneers.
Many have spent years, whole lifetimes in some cases, in this state of semi-wakefulness. Wizards invent and market potions, some which could more accurately be called poisons, and hawk them shamelessly, often needlessly, to unwary persons. Charlatans develop programs to bend the psyche. Not to say all of those who worked to alter chemical or mental balances do so out of greed, but many are dissuaded from the path of altruism by the lure of riches.
It was well Nat had been blessed with an inner strength that accorded endurance, but he also had a valiant champion, a guardian. She had hovered, unbeknownst to him, outside his immediate sphere, until their paths were destined, eventually, to cross.
Beryl Zagovornik was a Golden Dragon who had, during her middle years, attained the rank of Protector. Initial awareness of Nat'varen was superficial, and had come through a third party. Her first encounter with Dushja had been established in of a shared dream. Although Nat, not used to dreaming, chalked it up to "something he'd eaten," Beryl had recognized the portent's significance, having been a member of the Protectorate for eons. Her perceptiveness and empathy had garnered her comrades' high regard. Her empathy, however, had cost her dearly, leaving her decidedly more vulnerable than in her youth. Ironically, it was her vulnerability which was the source of her greatest strength. It was also undeniable that she was growing weak: Nat'varen Dushja may well be her last case. Whether or not the mission were completed, for that responsibility rested ultimately with him, when she had fulfilled her role, she would return to her home world. There, Beryl would live out her years among those who knew her best, until she either left this plane of existence and returned to the cosmos, or she were once more summoned to an extraordinary case that demanded her special talents.
During moments of introspection, Beryl experienced doubt: were her talents really anything special, did she really serve a purpose, or was she just an aging dragon with a penchant for intervening in the lives of others? Was she deluding herself that those lives she had touched were better for the interaction? She felt certain her own life had been enriched and could only hope others felt similarly.
Guardian spirits take various forms, according to the world of their origin. Some but not all, can take on the likeness of the species to whom they are assigned. Harking from a small orb in Drakonski Nebula, Beryl was a lovely dragon, whose golden scales glimmered with a warm, rosy glow, like burnished copper in firelight. Many of her kinfolk lived off-world, due to crowding: small planets have difficulty supporting and sustaining great numbers of large inhabitants. Beryl used to regret her inability to shape-shift, but over the course of millennia, one comes to self-acceptance and she saw not only the beauty but the practicality of her form, even taking into account her flaws and foibles.
The dream wherein Beryl met Nat held a world, forbidding, foreboding, cold and dangerous, yet strangely beautiful, if not comforting, in its chill cleanness. There was uncertainty, which is a given. Crossing treacherous icy terrain, required a great deal of focus and skill not to trip. A misstep could spell disaster, if not death. And though the phrase was often bandied about in a trifling manner, surviving such an error in judgement may well prove a fate worse than death: death brought an end to an individual's misery, while struggling to come back from poor timing and other mistakes often proved more troublesome.
Throughout her life, Beryl had given of herself, wanting to help others enjoy life. She felt how many were gladdened by her presence, her influence in their lives and it gave her immense joy. Sadly, there were those who reached a point where they saw her not as a helper, but an opponent. Those beings were no longer inspired but intimidated and though they blamed Beryl, what intimidated them were their own insecurities.
As a protector, one tried to gauge how much influence to use in a particular case, how involved to become. Mortal beings, whether dragon, dog, human or amoeba, are subject to design flaws - rendering life a guessing game, even on the best of days, under the most favorable conditions. One did the best one could with the subject and information at hand, hoping Immortal Beings would be pleased, or at least amused and inclined to be generous.
There had been a handful of cases in which Beryl had crossed physical lines of interaction. Dragons did not play by the same rules as some professions and there had been no judgement of impropriety levied, no chastisement for "immoral conduct." Those encounters had made her cautious, wary, hesitant to become involved with another human - which was exactly the reason she found Nat'varen Dushja so perplexing!
The coldness of that dream world was only too real for her, physically and emotionally. Yet she saw Nat's struggles and despite her better judgement, her dragon heart was touched. Furthermore, her mind was intrigued by the intellectual complexity she sensed.
Could she confer some of her dragon-ness, and if she could, would Nat comprehend? Never before had she dared consider the possibility, much less contemplate putting it in motion. "Don't be a fool!" her mind screamed at her, or rather, Don't be a bigger fool than you've already been. Beryl chided herself, knowing it was coming to terms with her own mortality that made her desperate to make a difference. She saw so much promise in Nat, so much potential. She just wanted to be part of it!
Self-preservation demanded a return to the homeland forthwith, but was quelled by the desire to reach just a little further, just this once. It may yet prove fatal, but Beryl would use the dragon-fire in her heart to thaw part of the frozen wasteland and nurture a life nearly as spent as her own.
No regrets and no looking back, Beryl would do all within her dragonhood to help Nat'varen Dushja conquer his foes, be they without or within. If he triumphed, she would rejoice, should he stumble, she would try to help him regain his footing.
Protectors are strong and steadfast and while there was breath in her dragon body, Beryl would stand by Nat, until relieved of her post, dismissed by her charge or overcome by forces beyond control.
Stand strong, Nat'varen Dushja, you are called to boldness! Grasp the weapons made available to you and master your world!
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