She wasn’t sure what dying would be like. She had assumed she would just be gone, obliterated somehow, probably via dragon fire. She certainly hadn’t expected this. She was on the peninsula by the lake, fully intact, staring at the very dock Enzo had dubbed the ‘Bridge of Good and Evil’ only a few months prior.
The last rays of sun had finally scattered, but the sky was still a shade of orangish purple, with pink fluffy clouds accenting the scent of fall that was on the breeze. Everything was simply perfect. Too perfect.
Poppy walked to the edge of the dock and sat down, letting her feet dangle off the edge. The last thing she remembered was the shrine screaming. It wasn’t a sound, but a raw, overwhelming surge of power lashing out as it was destroyed. She remembered a blinding flash of light, the feeling of being torn in half, and then… this quiet dock.
The constant, disembodied whispers of the Entity were gone, but the silence felt wrong. It wasn’t the clean silence of a severed connection; it was the muffled quiet of an empty room, a feeling of isolation. The oily black shimmers that haunted her vision had vanished, but she still felt the familiar, phantom weight of the Entity whispering in the back of her mind. The relief she had expected was nowhere to be found.
She wasn’t sure how long she had sat there—a few minutes? A few days?—before she heard Lynn’s voice from behind her.
“Are you going to sit here forever, or are you going to understand why you’re still here?”
“What are you talking abou—” She cut herself short as she turned, looking down at the dragon on the dock. It stood on two legs, serpentine and alert, eyes piercing into her. “You aren’t Lynn.”
“No,” the dragon said, its voice shifting from her sister’s tones into something more neutral, more ancient and masculine. “But she is where we will begin.”
Poppy shook her head, trying to clear it. The creature was no larger than a herding dog, though its serpentine body made it longer. Its scales shimmered in shifting shades of emerald and jade green. “You look like Draconus, if Draconus was a hatchling who didn’t have wings.”
“Do I?” the dragon replied, tilting its head. “Perhaps you see a god because you feel so small right now.”
The response was both a condescending jab and a non-answer. Poppy’s mind raced. Draconus was well-known to be the most hands-off of the gods. He expected his chosen to be able to take care of themselves and need no guidance. Why would he be here for her at the end? And why would he be… like this? Her confusion warred with a lifetime of instinct. “Who are you? What is this? This isn’t right. I’m supposed to be dead.”
“Your Spark is still firmly attached,” the dragon stated, ignoring her questions. “You’re not dead.”
“I have to be,” she insisted. “The shrine’s energy tore my spark apart. I felt it happen. I should be gone.”
“You should be,” the dragon echoed, a hint of cruel amusement in its voice. “After all, the god himself once promised to personally destroy your spark if you ever came this close to the veil while infected. You died, as expected. And yet, here you are, spark intact. It seems you’ve created quite the paradox, haven’t you?”
“If you are him,” she said, her tone laced with skepticism, “then this is a pretty pathetic send-off. I was expecting fire and brimstone, not a talking lizard on a dock.”
“Your survival is a mystery, Poppy,” the dragon stated coolly, its voice taking on a new weight.He scuttled closer, his piercing eyes holding hers. “You believe you should be dead… And yet, here you are.”
Draconus, then, she thought, the name sticking in her mind whether it was true or not. It was the only label she had for the creature in front of her.
“Am I just going to be stuck here forever? On this dock, waiting for something to happen?” Frustration coiled in her gut, a familiar, unwelcome guest. She wanted to scream. This wasn’t how this was supposed to be going. She was supposed to be obliterated into pieces–not arguing with God at the place they first met.
“It seems you have one last mystery to solve,” again, ignoring her question. “And every investigation must have a beginning—let’s start with yours.” he gestured with his head towards the empty space behind her. “The first piece of evidence: your sister.”
At Draconus’s prompting, the perfect, quiet dock began to dissolve, the scent of fall giving way to the musty smell of old books…