there is a layer of sweat and dirt clung to her that she can’t get rid of, dried blood in between her nails and taste of burnt ashes and iron on her tongue. bitter and sour.

she is exhausted. her movements are sluggish as she stumbles through the rumbles and ruins that were once her home. her breathing is uneven, grows even more ragged with each step she takes forward as the blade wound in her stomach burns. she grits her teeth and clenches her hand but doesn’t stop. doesn’t stop even when’s the itch in her throat that’s driving her crazy, the buildup of the taste of iron until the pressure is too much and she vomits blood. she pushes her self forward and forces her muscles to move.

because she can’t feel him anymore, he is gone.

.

.

.

she was in the heart of battlefield, drunk on the warm feeling spread across her arms twins of dragon tattoos glowing golden, her magic spilling from the tips of her fingers, a galaxy of stars burning around her when suddenly— the warmth disappeared. she froze. faltered in her spell; a moment of distraction, an opening that her the opponent took advantage of plunging a blade into the side of her stomach. but she didn’t recognise the pain, only focused on the fading dragon tattoos. he was dying.

it was a split decision. she called on her magic, feeling the tide of magic that raises, heavy and vast as the ocean, and like a hurricane breaking through fragile barriers she cut through space and teleported to the last area she felt their connection break—

only to howl in pain, her knee buckling under the force as a sharp stabbing pain suddenly lanced through her. Immediately, she pushed her hand on a wound, applying pressure to at least stop the blood. she didn’t have enough magic left to heal herself unless she wanted to burn out and faint.

so with a shaky breath, she pushed herself up and stood. and what she saw left her wide-eyed and horror-stricken. it was gone, her home. for miles all, she could see was ruins and rumbles of stones and buildings of what once was apart of a mighty kingdom and in the air, she could hear, smell traces of a strong spell. it must have been the oracle, only they were bold enough to barge into their territory like this and tear it apart with their large supplies of magic.

she pushed her rage that bubbled at this knowledge focusing on the task at hand, she had to find evan. glancing at the arms, her heart ached in agony, the glowing dragon tattoos on her arms were reduced to faint grey lines she could barely see. hot on his tail—desaparate— she ran as fast as she could, with one of her hands pressed on her blade wound, before the tattoo could fade out.

in the back of her mind, she recognized what she was doing was treason, abandoning her post on the battlefield but she could care less.

because always, above everything, he mattered the most.

.

.

.

_

the sun has fallen. the sky is dark, pitch black except for the thousands of stars and the crescent moon that glimmers in the night. and still, she is searching for him. her eyes burn with tears and each step is her dragging her feet across the ground, each breath is her gasping for air, for anything that could rid her of this dream of this illusion. because it has to be a dream, he can’t be dead. but her naked arms (just like that time before she met him) tell her otherwise. she was too late. and he was gone. but she doesn’t want to acknowledge that.

she is still moving. can barely see a thing in the dark but that doesn’t stop her. she needs to see him. she aches for him. will push and push forward with all her might, all her strength and nothing less, till she can find him. she had to.

a stumble, a wrong-footing and with a sudden cry, she falls flat on her face. the stone scratches her skin and scrapes her face. she curses under her breath, the hand on her stomach wound pressing harder. it hurts. but, it hasn’t started to bleed so it should be fine. it’s not the first time this has happened. she fell numerous times and she isn’t about to let this be her last. she rolls herself on to her back, focus her magic on her feet just until she could feel a tingle then jumps and steadies on her feet. her magic has been restoring up, a slower rate then she would’ve liked but it would have to do. the first thing she did as soon as she felt her magic return was to heal her wound, but she doesn’t have enough so she was only managed to stop the bleeding but it would have to do. anything that could let her get to him faster.

but for the moment, she lets herself breathe. her head feels lightweight, probably for the loss of the magic she just used. lets herself calm down for a second then she is moving forward agian, but something makes her halt in her steps, something that catches her eyes as moonlight washes over the area. and there’s a knot in her stomach that twists and clenches, but she turns away from the sight, rips her eyes away and turns her back to the scene and with a swallow, she moves forward.

there was a body laying on the floor, just a few feet from where she fell. another familiar face. klein. she knew him. an acquaintance, someone she knew from the academy. a hazy, old memory but somehow remembers it vividly that time he helped her with an assignment, another time she saw him smiling, happy. she wasn’t really close to him. but it doesn’t make seeing his him like that hurt any less. doesn’t stop her mind rush back to the other dead bodies she came across. a friend, another friend, a senior, a teacher, a mother, a child, and she thinks back to the battlefield. how her suddenly disappearing would cost a life of someone. cost lives.

but tells herself they would understand, the bond of a dragon isn’t something light. then, tells herself she really doesn’t care about the others, about the war. only he matters– only evan matters.

then tells herself, evan can’t be dead. he has to still be alive. repeats it in her head, a thousand times.

tells herself that the nausea feeling in her stomach isn’t guilt, a thousand times.

only, it is.

only, he is dead.

only, she cares.

(and sometimes a thousand lies is enough to shatter her world and tore her from within)

-

(and sometimes a thousand lies is enough to shatter her world and tore her from within)

(but sometimes a truth hidden in a thousand lies can mount her world from rumbles, raise the dead)

.

.

.

somewhere amongst ruins, there’s a roar. a golden dragon with fierce dark blue eyes enters the world as evan dies.

—

she hears it. the bone-shivering sound of a roar tearing into the earth. she stops, whips her head to the side. and she can feel something. in the distance, there’s something large that rises, something ancient rumbling from the earth. her breath caught in her throat at the sight of a gold dragon. it’s huge. the dragon shakes the dirt and stone off, spreading its large wings as it stands tall, the edge of its scales catching moonlight, glowing gold in the darkness of the night. its fierce dark blue eyes piercing into hers and—

she can’t help but think, evan?

the world around her stills. she takes a step closer. she is slow and cautious stepping on the ground as if would disappear. it’s stupid, delusional. dragon’s don’t exist, and he can’t be alive. she must be going crazy, but. she looks into those eyes, dark and vicious completely different to Evan’s bright clear blue eyes and – somewhere, somewhere buried in the heavy, ancient magic overwhelming her senses she can feel him. slow and faint. the familiar rush of the ocean seeps into her bones shaking her whole core, and she can’t help but think, what if.

she remembers a time when she was still in the academy her history teacher said they were descendants of dragons, creatures who came from beyond the skies and brought magic into the world.

what is she thinking? the idea is stupid and crazy but hardly her first. evan was supposed to be here to tell what to do, direct her like always but he’s not. and she thinks back to her teacher said. the dragons died out, millennium years of being so far from home had killed them, but they live inside us. their souls live inside us. and she thinks and thinks, the dragon bond, soulmates.

and in a moment of insanity, she takes another step and another, cautious and deliberate. takes another and another step till she’s only a centimetre away. the dragon looms over her, casting dark shadows on her form. she lifts a hand. her eyes are wide and wary of watching the dragon watch her. regardless, she stretches her hand out, reaching out and her fingertips touch the gold scales.

evan, she desperately calls out. please, please if you’re there say something.

but only deathly silence replies.

(and she breaks)

.

.

.

.

.

"Hope rises like a phoenix from the ashes of shattered dreams" --- S.A saches

—

she drops on to her knees. the force keeping her going on is gone and her arm slacks at her sides. there’s an empty feeling in her chest she can’t name. her lungs are constricted, tight, the air around her suffocating. and she can’t breathe, can’t think. every time she tries, he takes over. his bright, ocean eyes. his laugh. his voice. his smell- all gone. she won’t be able to see him again. won’t able to wake up in the morning to sound of his breathing in her ear. and there’s a lump in her throat. something coiling around her throat, squeezing it with pressure. words clock up. and she can’t breathe, can’t think. she curls her fingers inwards and digs her nails into her skin, tearing into the flesh. trying and trying to get rid of this feeling, this horrible ache that settles in the bottom of her stomach. she blinks her eyes rapidly, tries to breathe. but as her chest heaves, she gags and chokes past her raw throat. and it aches.

why did you leave me?! why did you go?!

it’s war she knows that. there was a possibility he could’ve had- but he promised. held her hand with tender, held her eyes with determination and promised. and she can’t help the hot white rage that boils in her. she wants to grab his shoulders and scream at him. but she can’t. he’s gone. how dare you leave me behind?!

she hunches forward and punches her fists into the ground. the sharp edges stones and pieces of buildings scrape her skin, but it’s not enough. there’s so much rage in her. she punches and punches and punches till she can’t anymore. till her arms are aching, till she’s dead exhausted, tired.

her usually smooth long, scarlet red hair is messy, greasy each strand tangled in knots. there are scrapes and scratches on her skin. her clothes are torn, dirty. and she’s dirty, sweaty. her eyes are burning, tears streaming her cheeks. her teeth are chattering. her pupils are shaking. she’s trembling. her barely healed blade wound stomach has re-opened. and, and she wants to give up, give in. her home is gone, reduced to nothing. evan is gone. and they’re properly losing the war as well. a war she left, leaving people to die. so why should she not? with nothing left...

then,

something warm settles on her shoulders. magic pours into her. oxygen overflows her lungs. and it feels like she can feel finally breathe. she inhales fresh air. magic, heavy and throbbing with something majestic fills her with light and—

the trembling fades away

the pain fades away

and as her pupil start to focus, she turns and sees the dragon’s forehead is resting on her shoulder. its eyes are closed, its nostrils flaring as something breaths through them, flowing into her. and she can feel getting stronger, her magic restoring back to her. and she realises with bewilderment, it’s healing her.

when it’s done, the dragon picks itself up stands tall and she notices there’s something different about its eyes. there’re drops of cerulean sparkling in pools of dark blue.

and its tail sweeps like rich honey across the ground, then curls around her like a blanket. she is lifted into the air, dropped on its back. and she doesn’t have time to think, before the dragon moves. she has to grip it tightly at the sudden movement.

she can hear the crushing sound under its feet, as the world beneath the dragon turns to dust. as she sits on top of it. as she can see everything from this height. her destroyed home. can recognise each and everyone building, each and every one area. they weren’t the largest city in the kingdom. but. it was home. each part of her home destroyed— pieces of her soul broken, buried, shattered. and, and—

before, she can’t even think further, die a little more she feels another sudden shift in the dragon. like a rush of the ocean, the ripple of waves in her bones, magic rises. before, all she can only see is fierce reds, hot oranges and bright yellows. before, the world around her blazes up in flames. and she has to grip tighter.

she is about to cry, scream. what are you doing?! there’s no need to— before,

there’re fissures splitting the earth. thunder crackling. as her heart lurches as everything around her shifts.

(sometimes a thousand lies is enough to shatter her world and tore her from within but.—)

everything around her shifts. the thunder rises to a crescendo, as her world, her home, her city, pierces of her souls is surged from death to life.

(but sometimes one truth hidden in a thousand lies can mount her world from rumbles–)

the earth ignites with life.

(sometimes one truth hidden in a thousand lies can mount her world from rumbles, raise the dead)

and she grips tighter on the scales, grips harder. her knuckles are turning ghost white. her eyes are wide. she stares into its blue orbs as the dragon turns its head to her.

a moment, another.

a whisper_ a familiar voice. and she can feel the burn on her arms. hot. warm. so familiar, that she doesn’t whether to cry, scream or laugh.

she does all of them.

cahya, evan whispers in her mind.

(and cahya soars.)

as dawn bleeds into the night sky above her

.

.

.

somewhere, amongst heartbeats, there’s raging fire. evan re-enters the world with a whisper

as the dragon vanishes into a wisp of air before her.

***

the distant faint rush of the ocean. the overlapping gentle splash of waves. the wisp of a howling wind. the pitter-patter drum of rain against the glass. the muffled shower of rainfall. the shudder of clicking ice-crystals. the crisping echoes of shrieking cries bouncing back and forth in the hallways. the roaring of footsteps ringing loudly in the hallways.

and each step is tense, aching slow with barely a breath to spare. Asteria could hear everything in volume, each silent whisper a deafening storm from miles away. her dress fluttering like the flaps of butterfly wings, her heart in beat with the buzzing footsteps of the ants crawling beneath the earth.

she could feel the night, the blanket of darkness stretching out in the sky, each thousand and thousands of twinkling stars, the crescent moon a luminance pearl of a hue of silver blue. Asteria feel it in each shift of her bones in each contraction and relaxation of her muscles, in each movement. so she moves extremely slow, savours in the tingle of her nerves. and it’s like waking up to first snow and watching the flakes fall in wonder and breath-taken expression even as the chilling cold of winter sinks into your bone till your lips are blue and you are shivering. and Asteria relishes in the feeling lets senses fan out, reach out beyond the walls of her palace and into the wilderness, beyond the tears in the universe and the sight is stunning.the washes, ripples and kaleidoscopes of greens, blues, pinks, purples, reds and darkness that surge through her. the light. the sounds. the people. the magic.

and each step is tense, aching slow with barely a breath to spare as she walks in her hallways. her footsteps a loud ring, thundering roar against the floor. even when they are light steps, the tip of her toes barely touching the floor. Asteria feels the old power sparking from the castle, almost as old as her, screeching loudly, trembling the whole foundation of her centre and electrifying her nerves of at the tip of her toes. as a small smile slides in on her face. in the far distance, miles and years away—

Asteria could feel it. ancient, golden, sapphire, mystical, saturated with power. family. she tries to breathe, to laugh but shudders under the volume, under the magnitude of raw power. flames, earth igniting up in bright oranges, yellows and reds. death raising from pits of ashes as life. and she feels is— family, family. then, sudden silence. deathly silence.

she halts.

her black, empty eyes rise in alarm. her head snaps upwards staring out into the world through the transplant glass walls. her senses fall flat as she tries to call out again. kin, she calls out in thousands of language, desperate. but nothing responds.

and Asteria stops, stands to look at the empty land. she’s crying tears, but there is no drop of tear. she’s crying, yet there is no whisper, no sound coming out of her lips. only wide black, empty eyes. only the faint tremor of her lips. then, the tremor stops and her eyes return to the normal size, glosses over the landscape in the distance with an unreadable expression.

of course, it happened again.

it feels like she’s lost a chunk of her soul, all over again. just when she managed to find lost kin, just when she thought she wasn’t the last of her kind, of her people, that maybe this time she would gasp on the wondering soul, when it was ripped away, leaving her with a gaping hole inside.

what’s a queen, a king without their people? what’s a kingdom, an entire empire without its people? absolutely nothing.

the crown on her head feels gaping cold. the edges chipped and eroded.

but Asteria keeps it on. keeps going on with her duties as she waits. for when her people will rise, tame the skies, come back home.

someday.. someday, she hopes.

.

.

.

somewhere, amongst heartbeats, amongst a dimming blazing fire. Evan re-enters the world with a whisper. it feels natural, almost too natural like slipping awake from sleep, not his damn death. his eyes open and he wakes up to greens, yellows and blues, to his home alive. wakes up to a familiar, warmth feeling running along his arms, the familiar touch of her in his mind and he smiles. lets himself lay on the fresh grass and looks up at the dawn sky.

cahya, Evan calls out again and she answers in laughs cries screams and curses.

and it’s all he needs it now. maybe later, in a few seconds, he would worry about the war, about how the hell he is alive (of course, she would find a way to bring him to life to punch him). but for now, he focuses on the warmth, the golden light of his tattoos and lets out a light, breathy laugh.

he is back home, to her and for now, that is all that matters.

_

Cahya falls. there’s no moment to think as the dragon beneath her disappears, and she is falling. a second too late to grab for her magic to cushion her landing but then she finds there is no need as magic reaches for her and cloaks her and she hits the soft ground. it hums against her bones, chill ice - it doesn’t feel like hers - not bright, wild but colder, more concentrated. but she has no time to dwell on that because her she takes in a breath of air, takes in life - the feel of the grass beneath her, the warm dragon tattoo on her arm that glows a golden. Cahya breathes in the air - tastes of warm earth, of mint flowers, tingling in her mouth and she is on her feet. her steps feel light, and she feels brim with energy, with power. and she runs, runs and runs as the air whips at her hair and face.

and - there in the distance past the crowd of people that are starting to wake up, she can see him. his leant body as he starts to sit up as Evan’s face suddenly whips her and Cahya knows he felt the pull by his expression and she reaches more for him. the tattoo on her arms burns golden and—

burst of — a rush of emotions overloads her. and each part of her pulses with bright-bright-fire and she runs faster, eats up the distance between them. she twists and turns, dodging past people— and then—

she is finally, finally at home. -

and she’s furious.

.

Cahya has always been a ball of temper, of tightly compressed emotions. always fast to act, too reckless. with time she learned to rein in, to suppress her wild emotions but.. it has always been there.

and now— beneath her skin, in the depth of her bones — they are screaming, rattling and she’s breathless with it, haphazardly stitched up with red bleeding at the seams. she’s raging. it’s not anger. no, anger is a torch, a touch of heat beneath the skin, yellow-orange flames and she’s livid - a blazing-sun hot white spark that leaps from darkness and sets everything alight, she’s a volcano of build up emotions at her highest point - itching to erupt.

(but most of all - there’s desperation - there’s a loss - there’s fear buried her hot hot fuming anger that flames it)

she’s here - in front of Evan, who was dead - who stares at her with his bright blue eyes like she’s the world. (and she is. for the both of them - the world only consists of two)

she knows him. and she can feel the emotions pouring from him, can see the tension in the hand muscle, in the burrow of his eyebrows, can see feel the regret guilt in him.

and - Cahya is beyond furious even though she knows, understands because she is at the end of her point.

HOW COULD YOU? she wants to say, but their word die in her throat and, Evan looks at her with eyes downcast - and she hates it. everything.

.

Evan knows this.

.

he felt her before he saw her running towards him. and there’s an ache grabbing his breath at the sight of her, a rush of emotions pouring out of him. he looks up at her, at her messy scarlet hair. she looks like she’s been through hell and back and probably has. and there’s a deep ache in his chest. Cahya, he wants to call her name, but the name is stuck on his throat because even if he just died and came back - he — left her. the thought grips - strangles him. he left her even when he promised. and Evan can remember her crying-anguish, and now she’s here in front of him. and everything feels too real, there’s a strangling wave of emotions at the sight of her and— he can’t breath- can’t think— it aches- hurts- pains- and— and—

he can feel her fury bleeding into him, and he knows she knows what he did, why he died.

(he has never been able to hide his emotions from her)

Sorry, he tries to say, but he can’t. because he isn’t sorry for dying - would do it again in a single breath. he’s sorry for leaving her, for breaking the promise. he loves her, oh how he does but - Evan would never be able to live his life knowing he let someone die on his watch. even if it meant that was leaving Cahya, because he knows her - that she would eventually get up even if it’s after years and years - because to him, while he loves with her every breath, every beat - he would never rest knowing another person with just a life as he has died - again - on his watch. so he is not sorry for dying, but there is regret for leaving. and now, he is alive and she is here. and she's angry.

(no. not furious, not livid - because Evan knows her, can see the fear, buried in. and this aches him. he hates seeing her pain because of him - but. )

(there is always a but —)

Cahya, he tries to say - when there’s a mouth on him swallowing up the words. when suddenly - she is on the ground next to him, her mouth on his and he burns— scorches— shivers under her kiss and damn he has never been alive before. hands grip at him there’s desperation in her movement as Cahya kisses him— steals the breath out of him. and he’s gasping. they drop, fall in a tangled mess, and tumble through the grass- and there are emotions pushing onto him, overwhelming him—

—anger-anger—harsh-red—desperation—sharp-nails—skin—deeper-deeper—

she pushes down on to him, grips him tight and kisses him with force. there is no moment to reach for air. she kisses him with sharp, deep desperation. she devours him whole, and he drowns. there are hands on his face, on his chest. she pushes and pushes down.

.

and Evan lets her strangling waves of emotions take him. he takes it all and drowns - because he can because he wants all of it.

.

and Cahya bleeds, pours everything. grips on to him like he's an anchor in this screaming red ocean. and he is because there is no shore - nothing else to grab on to. only each other.

even if - he is the cause of the flood because above everything, past her raging emotions, she always came back because she knows him, and understands even when - she doesn’t want to.

(because most of all - above everything else, he matters the most)

.

a moment to grasp for air, a second to stare at her bright red ember eyes pulsing with raw emotions before their mouths slant agianst one another and they —devour-drown—.

and Evan reaches out, snakes a hand on her waist twists so she is under him— and this time pushes back. lets her feel his emotions.

—love-sorry-love-love-fear--love-love-love—relief—love

She takes it all and pushes back.

—love—love—love-love-love—

.

because past all their differences that divide them - past everything in between -

love is the strong thread that binds them and reels them in - connects them in the form of the dragon tattoo that glows golden on their arms.