The Journey, Book 2; Chapter 33 - Previous Chapter
Chapter 34: Nekira!
Nekonata stretched, reaching from his toes to the tips of his fingers as his wolf companions, Santaya and Kristolia, lounged in the shade of an ancient tree. Nearby, Amira, his orange-and-purple-scaled dragon, arched her back like a cat. She had grown large enough to carry him now, and the Elvish craftsmen had laboured to craft her a saddle worthy of a rider: fine brown leather, embroidered in swirling orange and violet, with enchanted buckles and harnesses.
Neko had watched Tarasque mount Elqiana’s saddle many times, memorising the way she secured the straps around her legs. Taking a steadying breath, he stepped toward Amira.
'Are you ready, little one?' she asked in his mind.
He grinned, ran a few paces, and leapt into the saddle. Slowly, he buckled the harnesses around his thighs. From a short distance away, Gabija called out, “Remember, Neko! Trust Amira. Listen to her instructions, lean toward her neck during take-off!”
Neko nodded, flashing a sheepish smile. But Amira had no intention of waiting. She bounded forward, wings unfurling in a rush of orange-purple light, and with a mighty beat she launched into the sky. Neko’s scream echoed through the air as the ground fell away beneath them.
'Breathe. Focus,' Amira’s voice echoed gently in Neko’s mind.
He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, steadying himself with the techniques Timtur had drilled into him. Inhale… hold… exhale. Again. Slowly, his panic ebbed away, replaced by a stillness he could anchor himself to. When he opened his eyes, the world had transformed.
The endless blue sky stretched around him, streaked with wisps of white cloud. Beneath them, the vast green sea of forest rippled in the wind, broken only by the occasional clearing. Neko’s lips curved into a wide grin.
'This is… amazing,' he whispered, leaning down to wrap his arms around Amira’s warm, scaled neck.
Amira rumbled contentedly. 'Does this mean we can fly more often, little one?' She didn’t need his answer, the joy flowing through their bond was enough.
After a moment, Neko’s expression sobered. 'I remember fragments,' he admitted softly. 'But I’m still no closer to finding out who I am. All I know of my mother is that she was… kind. Gentle. The sort of person who made the world brighter just by being in it.'
Amira hummed in thought, her wings slicing through the air. 'What triggered your last memory?'
Neko frowned, recalling. 'A shadow. I saw it from the corner of my eye… and then it came, like the others.'
Amira turned her head briefly to study him, before facing forward again. 'Then shadows… random, unpredictable… They're the sparks that have been pulling your memories to the surface.'
Neko nodded, agreeing silently.
Then, Amira said something unexpected. 'Why not choose a name you like—and go by that?'
The idea struck him like a stone. 'What if… what if it’s not the name my mother called me?' he protested.
Amira banked to the left, wings tilting as a flock of geese scattered with outraged squawks. 'Then think of it as a temporary name, she countered calmly. Better that than “no-name” forever.'
Her words sank deep. Neko thought for a long moment, then sent out a cautious thread of thought. 'Queen Gabija, your majesty… it is I, Nekonata. Might I ask you something?'
A few breaths later, a soft, melodic voice brushed against his mind. 'What is it, Neko? Is everything all right?'
Relief loosened the tightness in his chest—he knew Amira felt it, too. 'Yes, I… I wanted to ask. Can I give myself a name?'
There was a pause, a faint ripple of surprise. 'Give yourself a name?'
Neko explained what he and Amira had discussed, his thoughts tumbling quickly. 'Yes. A temporary name, at least until I find the one my mother gave me. It feels… strange, being “no-name” all the time. Especially in the ancient tongue.'
Silence followed, heavy but not unkind. At last, the queen’s voice returned, thoughtful. 'And what would you like your… temporary name to be, Neko?'
Neko thought hard, rolling a few names over in his mind. 'Daniel, Aaron, Luke, David… Torin, Eryndor, Malachy. Do you like any of those, Amira?'
A soft rumble vibrated through her chest. 'It is your name, little one, not mine.'
Before Neko could reply, Gabija’s voice entered his thoughts, gentle as a breeze. 'Eryndor is an Elvish name. Others you might consider are Caelen… Velorin… Umbric. But Amira is right, this choice belongs to you.'
Neko nodded, gripping the saddle horn as he mulled it over.
'Hold on,' Amira warned suddenly.
He barely had time to tighten his hands around the pommel before Amira rolled her body into a smooth barrel spin, the world cartwheeling around them. Neko let out a startled laugh, his worries scattering into the wind.
'Can you do a loop?' he asked, his voice tinged with challenge.
Amira’s excited rumble shook through her scales. Of course.
Her wings angled, catching the wind, and together they climbed higher, higher, the horizon falling away until the world was nothing but sky. She arched gracefully, carrying them over the top until they were upside down, the vast green sea of trees spinning beneath their heads. Neko’s breath caught in awe. Then the loop carried on, the circle completing, until they levelled upright once more.
The forest rushed by below, but Neko only grinned, exhilarated.
'That was a huge blood rush to the head!' Neko exclaimed, laughter spilling from him as the world steadied again. Let’s not do that too often, he added into Amira’s mind, patting her warm neck.
Then, without warning, the thought surged through him, projected to both Amira and Gabija at once: 'Nekira!'
Both voices echoed back in unison, surprised. 'Nekira?'
Neko laughed softly. 'Yes. My temporary name. The first three letters of Nekonata, and the last three of Amira. Nekira.'
A silence followed, full of weight. Then Amira’s deep voice vibrated with pride. 'Nekira… I like it, little one.'
Gabija’s melodic tone joined after, warm and approving. 'It rolls from the tongue nicely. It is a pleasure to meet you, Nekira.'
A smile broke across his face, wide and unrestrained. Something about the name… it fit. It felt right. Natural. As he embraced it fully, his eyes suddenly flared a brilliant purple-orange, his aura bursting outward in matching hues before fading into the air. A strange warmth settled deep within him… different, but good.
'What happened, little one?' Amira asked, concern threading her thoughts.
‘I don’t know…’ Neko admitted.
Gabija’s voice flowed gently into his mind. 'You have given yourself a name. In doing so, you reshaped your soul. A name carries meaning—and for you, it is a powerful, anchoring thing. This change is nothing to fear. It is a gift.'
Neko relayed her words to Amira, who hummed with agreement. 'Yes… you do feel different. But in a kind, stronger way.'
A sudden doubt flickered in his mind. 'Will everyone accept my new name?'
Amira roared into the sky, her massive wings cutting the air as her eyes sparkled mischievously. 'If they don’t, they’ll have me to answer to.'
Gabija’s laughter chimed like a bell, joining her. 'And me as well!'
Nekira’s heart swelled at their words. For the first time, he felt not nameless… but whole.
Nekira and Amira wheeled gracefully above the forest, circling over Caa Alora. Far below, the Elvish citizens lifted their faces skyward, smiles spreading as children pointed with wide-eyed wonder. Amira’s orange-and-purple scales caught the sunlight, scattering radiant glows that danced across the wooden walkways below. Some of the young ones broke into laughter, chasing the moving shimmer as if they might catch it.
Let’s go back, Amira, Nekira said into her mind, still grinning. We’ve got ancestry records to dig through.
With a slow bank to the right, Amira tilted her wings and descended in a gentle spiral, gliding down until she came to rest within her lofty treetop aery. Nekira slid quickly from the saddle, unfastening the straps around his legs before unclasping the main harness. Half-lugging, half-dragging, he eased the heavy leather into the corner for safekeeping. Then he darted back to Amira, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck.
He slipped through an arched doorway, down a narrow stair into his quarters. A gulp of cool water, a quick bite of buttered bread snatched from the table, then he was off again, darting through another door that opened to the outside steps carved into the tree’s great trunk.
Caa Alora bustled around him, its high platforms alive with song, trade, and the rustling of leaves. Nekira moved briskly toward the palace, his mind already tugged toward the work ahead. Soon, he passed beneath its carved gates and into the corridor of stained glass. Sunlight poured through the colored panes, painting the polished wood floor in shifting hues of emerald, crimson, and gold.
At the great doors of the Red Oak Room, two guards stood at attention. They inclined their heads respectfully and stepped aside, allowing him to enter.
Inside, two familiar figures bounded toward him at once, Santaya and Kristolia. The wolves pressed against his legs, tails sweeping eagerly, and Nekira laughed, scratching them both behind the ears. Then he crossed the chamber to the great oak table where parchments and books lay scattered in organised chaos. Vivi and Elvina stood there, heads bent together as they pored over the records.
The great doors of the Red Oak Room opened once more. Gabija entered with her usual silent grace, her presence seeming to hush the air around her. She came to stand beside Nekira, then cleared her throat softly.
“Vivi, Elvina, may I introduce to you… Nekira.”
Both of them looked up from the piles of parchment, brows furrowing.
“Nekira?” Elvina echoed, puzzled.
Nekira inclined his head and explained briefly. Vivi’s lips curved into a gentle smile; he stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder before clasping his hand firmly. “Nekira it is,” He said warmly.
Elvina followed, all cocky elegance and mischief. She ruffled his hair with a grin. “What’s up, Nekira?” Her words came more as a statement than a question, but the glimmer in her eyes softened it.
Gabija gave him a small, approving nod and then turned her gaze to them at the table. “How goes the search?”
Vivi let out a frustrated groan. “We’ve gone through so much. I could tell you all about Oromir’s ancestral history, or Eryndor’s, or even someone called Eragon, from way, way back.”
Elvina piped up quickly, “Or Thomaz’s line. But something’s… off. His history isn’t complete. We know it’s his family line, but Thomaz’s name isn’t written anywhere. Instead, there’s only an initial—‘J.’”
Gabija’s brows knitted. She stepped closer, peering at the parchment Elvina held. “Strange…” she murmured. Then, in the lilting tones of the ancient language, she whispered a spell.
The ink shimmered. Thomaz’s name appeared, etched beside the mysterious ‘J.’
Gabija’s expression grew grave. “This would mean Thomaz has a brother or sister. One whose name begins with J.”
Vivi scratched the back of his head, frowning deeply. “I spent years with Thomaz and his father. If he had a sibling… I never heard a word about it.”
Nekira drifted toward the far end of the table. His gaze fell upon a thin volume bound in soft, timeworn leather. A silver rune gleamed faintly on the cover, its meaning lost to him, though something in it tugged at the edges of his mind.
A faint breeze stirred, though no window was open. Nekira’s breath caught. His eyes flared purple and orange, light pulsing within them. Almost trance-like, his hand lifted and he drew the book to him.
Elvina noticed first, nudging Vivi. He stiffened, then subtly gestured to Gabija.The three of them watched in silence as Nekira opened the book.
Words poured from his mouth, steady and certain, though his eyes did not once glance at the page.
“Elvina, daughter of Vivi, grandchild of Braiden and Dorianna… great-grandchild, great-great-grandchild, great-great-great-grandchild to Matthious. Niece to Tivor. Tivor has a daughter-”
Gabija leaned close, peering at the open page over his shoulder. Her breath stilled. The words Nekira spoke matched the genealogy written there - line for line, name for name. Yet his gaze was fixed somewhere far beyond the parchment.
Then, as abruptly as it began, the light in his eyes guttered. Nekira staggered, his knees threatening to buckle as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. The connection severed. The air stilled.
The book slipped from his hand onto the table with a dull thud.
Gabija was at his side in an instant, pulling a chair forward. Nekira lowered himself into it shakily, his body trembling. He looked up at the three of them, voice thin. “What… just happened?”
Gabija snapped her fingers at a nearby guard. “Food and drink. Quickly.” The guard bowed and hurried from the chamber.
Meanwhile, Vivi lifted the thin book from the table. He flipped hurriedly through the pages, his brow furrowing. “It’s empty. There’s nothing in here. Blank.”
Gabija took the book from him, frowning. “That can’t be. I saw the words as he spoke them.” Her gaze shifted to Elvina and Vivi. “You two are descended from Matthious, the Corrupter. As is Tivor.”
Elvina stepped forward, her tone cautious. “He also said… Tivor has a daughter.”
Vivi stood rooted to the spot, lips pressed tight as he thought hard. “I don’t know if my brother has a daughter. I’ve never heard of one.” His voice dropped. “If she exists… I wonder who she is. And if she’s safe.”
Gabija’s eyes narrowed, her mind turning over the details. “And your mother’s name. It was spoken… I heard it… but I can’t recall it.”
Vivi blinked in surprise. He opened his mouth, trying to form the word. Nothing came. His face darkened with frustration.
Nekira, accepting a tray from the returning guard, whispered as he raised the cup to his lips. “Dorianna. Your mother’s name is Dorianna.”
Vivi seized on it, muttering, “D… D… yes, Dorianna—” But even as he repeated it, the name slid from his mind like water through his hands. His face went pale. “It’s gone again. Forgotten.”
A gentle ripple of thought washed over Nekira’s mind—Amira’s voice, calm but probing. Little one… is it possible for the ancient language to be woven into a name so that others forget it?
Nekira spoke aloud what she had sent him. “Amira asks… can a name be made to be forgotten?”
Gabija’s eyes darkened with understanding, and she nodded softly.
Vivi’s brow furrowed. “Yes… when Matthious was at the height of his destructive power, he didn’t just destroy lives, he targeted families. Those who refused to follow him… many adopted the practice of weaving magic into names, erasing them from memory. It’s powerful magic, not something one uses lightly. It means… those affected could never see their family again, unless the spell is reversed. And even then… the reversal could put them at risk, or other unforeseen circumstances might undo the safety it provided.”
Nekira’s eyes narrowed. He nodded slowly, the pieces of his fractured memory connecting like threads. “Then… that means your mother… she’s still trying to protect you.” His voice dropped, wary. “But from who? Matthious, maybe?”
Gabija’s gaze darkened further, her lips tight. “Perhaps. Or someone else still bound by his legacy. That is what we must discover.”
Amira’s rumble hummed through his mind, steady and protective. 'We will face it together, little one.'
Nekira looked up from the goblet he was drinking from. “How come… Amira and I can remember the name?”
Elvina spoke first, a thoughtful frown on her face. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of the unique bond you share with Amira. That might be the only possible answer.”
Vivi added, carefully weighing his words, “It’s possible the spell was only woven for those who were present at the time it was cast. I should be shocked… that I’m—” He glanced at Elvina and corrected himself, “we are related to Matthious. But for some reason… I’m not.”
Before anyone could respond, a guard stepped forward, bowing low. “Your majesty, I apologise for the interruption—”
Suddenly, Martheel burst into the chamber, panicked. “Your majesty! White dragon approaching!”
Gabija shook her head sharply and snapped at him, her voice crisp as steel. “Compose yourself, elf!”
The guard, undisturbed by the chaos, gave a polite nod at Gabija, then spoke again. “I was going to say what Scribe Martheel just said, your majesty.” He bowed low once more, his tone steady.
Martheel, however, was still trembling. Nekira rose from his chair, eyes flashing a brilliant purple-orange. The energy from him pulsed outward, calm and commanding. Almost immediately, Martheel’s panic melted away.
“White dragon is friend,” Nekira said quietly, voice soft but certain.
Martheel blinked, swallowing hard. “I-I’m… not scared anymore. H-how?”
Gabija, Vivi, and Elvina stepped past him, allowing Nekira to move toward the chamber doors. A soft smile curved his lips. With a click of his tongue, Santaya and Kristolia padded to his side, tails wagging.
“Come on, girls,” he said, voice light but full of warmth. “Let’s go meet Tara and Elqi.”
They left the palace together, moving past the ancient tree that had become Nekira and Amira’s home. Amira leapt from her aery, wings half-open, gliding down gracefully to the ground to meet them.
The group continued toward the training fields, where Tara and Elqi had been directed by the forest guardian, Mina.
The moment Tara spotted Nekira, she sprinted toward him, flying straight into his arms with a joyful hug. He smiled, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “I’ve missed you too,” he whispered into her ear.
A puff of green smoke erupted, and Loki transformed back into Tivor. He raised his hand to help Cassandra dismount from Elqiana’s saddle; her knees wobbled slightly as her feet touched the ground.
Once everyone was gathered, Tivor hesitated, glancing nervously at Tara.
“I… have some news,” Tara announced, trying to sound casual.
Tivor’s scarred face flushed every shade of red. “Now? Tarasque? Really?” he groaned, but Tara only gave him a dark look, while Elqiana growled beside her.
“Okay, okay!” Tivor threw his hands up in surrender. “Until recently, in the last couple of months, I… I had no idea… but I have a daughter.”
Vivi, Gabija, Elvina, and Nekira exchanged raised eyebrows, the awkwardness thick in the air.
Cassandra, sensing the tension, finally let her patience slip. “Tarasque is Tivor’s daughter... our daughter,” she said firmly.
All eyes fell on Tarasque and Tivor, the revelation sinking in.
Amira’s voice echoed gently in everyone’s minds, trying to ease the tension. 'Someone else has news too,' she said, a playful note underlying her thoughts.
Nekira cleared his throat softly, still holding Tara close. “My name… well, my temporary name is Nekira. That’s what I wish to be called from now on, until I find my real name.”
Tara smiled warmly. “I love it—your name, Nekira. It’s perfect.”
A low rumble of agreement vibrated from Elqiana, who leaned her head slightly toward Nekira in approval.
“Thank you,” Nekira said softly, bowing his head to Tara and then to Elqiana.
Then, turning toward Tivor, his expression grew serious. “Dorianna.”
Tivor’s brow furrowed, completely puzzled. “Dorianna? What’s… what is that?”
“Not what, but who,” Nekira corrected gently. “Dorianna is the name of your mother.”
Tivor tried to repeat it, lips forming the word, but it slipped from his memory as quickly as it came.
“That’s a nice name,” Tara said, her tone light and teasing. “What was it again?”
“No one can remember it… apart from me and you, Amira,” Nekira muttered, frustration rising in his voice.
Amira ruffled her shimmering scales, wings flexing lightly. 'Let me try something,' she sent into his mind.
Closing her eyes, she projected the memory of the name—Dorianna—into everyone’s consciousness. The air shimmered with the effort. For a heartbeat, hope sparked in Nekira’s chest… until it became clear: only the great opal-white dragon, Elqiana, registered the name. Everyone else’s minds remained blank, the memory slipping through like water.
‘I remember but it scratches at my mind until it hurts when I say the name.’ Elqiana projected into Nekira’s mind.
“Dammit!” Nekira hissed under his breath. “How are we supposed to find someone to help them if no one can remember her name?”
A sudden thought struck him, sharp and curious. Were-cats… he murmured. Strange creatures, magical in origin… would this spell even work on them?
He looked around, scanning the city of Caa Alora in his mind. Are there any were-cats here?
“Snowy,” Gabija replied, her tone calm but firm. “She’s Caa Alora’s resident were-cat. She won’t speak if there’s a large group, so it’s best that you and I go alone, Nekira.”
He nodded, determination flickering in his eyes.
Turning to Tara, Cassandra, and Tivor, Gabija continued, “I have rooms ready in the palace for you to rest and freshen up. As for you, Elqiana…” Her gaze softened as she looked toward the opal-white dragon. “I must apologize. At this moment, the only place I can accommodate you is the great hall. I have the finest Elvish craftsmen working to enchant a tree and create an aery and quarters for you and Tara, but it will take some time.”
Tara gave a low bow of thanks, gratitude clear in her expression.
With a powerful beat of her wings, Elqiana lifted into the air, Amira following close behind. The two dragons soared into the sky together, hunting for food and enjoying the freedom of flight.
Meanwhile, Vivi and Elvina guided Tara, Cassandra, and Tivor toward the palace, though Tivor, familiar with the grounds, walked confidently at the front.
Nekira fell into step beside Gabija, his mind focused on the task ahead. The hunt for Snowy would be delicate, and perhaps the key to unlocking the next piece of the puzzle.
Nekira and Gabija walked slowly through the throng of people, weaving between traders calling out their wares and merchants displaying bright fabrics, carved trinkets, and fragrant spices. The air was alive with chatter and the clinking of coins.
A particular stall caught Nekira’s attention, rows of jewellery gleamed in the sunlight, glittering gold and silver mixed with rougher works of bone and hide. He drifted toward it, curiosity tugging at him, and Gabija followed with effortless grace.
“Please, tell us of your wares, Aristos,” she said, her voice carrying quiet authority.
The old man behind the stall bowed low. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Aristos spoke at length, his words a blend of pride and reverence as he explained the differences between Elven delicacy, Dwarven sturdiness, the experimentation of humarfs, and even the primitive craftsmanship of the Undgrolls.
“You have Undgroll jewellery?” Nekira asked, surprised.
The man nodded and placed a small tray before him. “Primitive, yes, but unique.”
On it lay pieces strung from the skulls of small birds, talons bound in cotton, and beads wrapped in animal hide. Crude, yet oddly compelling. Nekira’s gaze, however, was drawn past them, drawn to a gold necklace with a crescent moon, white opals shimmering inlaid across its curve.
Aristos noticed. “This one,” he said, lifting it carefully into Nekira’s hands, “has a partner.”
He rummaged behind the stall and produced a velvet bag. Inside lay a chain of white gold, metal of human invention, with another moon pendant. This one curved the opposite way, its surface set with deep purple gems. When placed together, the two halves formed a full moon, gold and white gold entwined like day and night.
“What are these gems?” Nekira asked, tilting the pendant.
Before Aristos could answer, a soft purr rolled through the air. Nekira looked around, puzzled, until a silky voice said, “For an elf-hume dragon rider, your awareness is abysmal.”
He glanced down. Winding through Gabija’s legs was the fluffiest, whitest cat he had ever seen. With a graceful leap, the cat landed atop the counter, pale fur gleaming, sharp eyes fixing on the pendant.
“A jeweller from Littleon made these,” the cat said, voice smooth as silk. “He was the first to forge what humans call ‘white gold.’ But those gems?” The were-cat’s whiskers twitched. “Amethysts. From lands far beyond the stormy seas.”
Gabija stepped forward, a faint smile softening her features. She reached to scratch the were-cat between the ears. “Well met, Snowy. I had a feeling you’d be close.”
Nekira glanced at Gabija to the necklace. “How much for these?” he asked politely.
Aristos looked at the queen, caught her stern glance, and immediately shook his head. “A gift… from me to you. Please.”
Nekira opened his mouth to refuse, but the merchant quoted an old Elvish saying: It is rude to reject a gift under the boughs of the Great Forest. With a reluctant smile, Nekira accepted, bowing low in thanks.
Snowy flicked her tail and leapt down. “If you wish to speak, follow me. Somewhere quieter.”
As she padded away, unseen by all but Nekira, Gabija muttered a phrase in the ancient tongue. Six golden coins shimmered into being and clinked softly as they landed on Aristos’ counter.
Snowy weaved effortlessly through the press of bodies, the crowd parting as though by instinct. Nekira and Gabija followed, keeping close until the were-cat slipped into a narrow alley. The din of the marketplace faded behind them, replaced by the muted scents of herbs and dried flowers.
Snowy pushed open the door of a small apothecary with her shoulder and padded inside. The air was thick with sage, lavender, and something sharper—perhaps foxglove. She leapt onto the counter in one fluid motion, curling into the nest of a waiting cushion, her tail flicking lazily.
“What is it you want of me, dragon-rider?” she asked, her voice low, resonant, and far too knowing.
Nekira hesitated, studying her, then spoke carefully. “Does magic… affect you and yours the same way it does humans or elves?”
Snowy’s ears twitched. Her eyes, half-lidded, regarded him with feline disinterest. “No, is your simple answer. Were-cats are… strange. Even to ourselves. We have been here nearly as long as dragons. Our nature is not tied to the essence of the land, but to its breath, its pulse. We endure. Longer than humans, though not so long as dwarves. Why do you ask, dragon-rider?”
Gabija exhaled, stepping closer. “Because Nekira wishes to speak a name. A name no one else remembers, no one save him and his dragon.”
Snowy’s gaze sharpened. “Say the name, dragon-rider,” she purred, her voice suddenly soft yet commanding.
Nekira swallowed, then spoke. “Dorianna.”
The apothecary seemed to still. Dust hung unmoving in the light. Snowy stilled too, one paw raised in mid-lick. Then, very slowly, she set it down, pupils narrowing.
“Dorianna…” she repeated, drawing out the syllables like tasting wine. A low purr rumbled from deep in her chest. “Yes. I remember. But it clings like cobwebs. Slips away even as I hold it. This name is bound with purpose… hidden for a reason older than your questions.”
Nekira leaned forward. “Can you keep it?”
Snowy licked her paw again, eyes wide and sharp. “I can. Though it scratches against my thoughts like claws on stone.” Her tail lashed once. “Who is she?”
Gabija glanced at Nekira, then said quietly, “She is the mother of Vivi… and of Tivor.”
Snowy’s golden eyes widened, her fur bristling as though struck with a sudden charge of static. She leaned closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Where is she?”
Nekira’s reply was cautious, steady. “…Held captive. Somewhere.”
“We are trying to find her,” Nekira said, his voice low, almost blending with the rumble in his chest. “She needs help. Tabby and Blacky said they would aid us.”
Snowy’s ears twitched. A deep, rolling purr filled the apothecary. “Then know this, now the chosen leader of the were-cats will help as well.” She kneaded the cushion once with her paws, then curled herself tightly into it. “Go. Leave me. Find you soon, I will.” With a languid flick of her tail, she closed her eyes, the matter settled.
Nekira and Gabija exchanged a glance, then slipped quietly from the shop. The alley brought them back to the bustling noise of the market square, yet something was different. The air felt charged.
As they approached the edge of the square, the stillness shattered. Loud hisses, sharp yowls, and screeches erupted from all sides as a sea of fur swept through the marketplace. Dozens of cats in every shade and pattern streamed between stalls and startled merchants, darting toward alleys and exits with impossible coordination. It was like watching a tide move with one mind.
Nekira stopped, watching the flood of fur vanish into the city’s veins. A faint smile touched his lips. “Looks like Snowy is holding true to her word,” he murmured.
Gabija’s eyes followed the last streaking shadow. “Yes… and when the were-cats stir, the whole forest pays attention.”
Chapter 34: Nekira!
Nekonata stretched, reaching from his toes to the tips of his fingers as his wolf companions, Santaya and Kristolia, lounged in the shade of an ancient tree. Nearby, Amira, his orange-and-purple-scaled dragon, arched her back like a cat. She had grown large enough to carry him now, and the Elvish craftsmen had laboured to craft her a saddle worthy of a rider: fine brown leather, embroidered in swirling orange and violet, with enchanted buckles and harnesses.
Neko had watched Tarasque mount Elqiana’s saddle many times, memorising the way she secured the straps around her legs. Taking a steadying breath, he stepped toward Amira.
'Are you ready, little one?' she asked in his mind.
He grinned, ran a few paces, and leapt into the saddle. Slowly, he buckled the harnesses around his thighs. From a short distance away, Gabija called out, “Remember, Neko! Trust Amira. Listen to her instructions, lean toward her neck during take-off!”
Neko nodded, flashing a sheepish smile. But Amira had no intention of waiting. She bounded forward, wings unfurling in a rush of orange-purple light, and with a mighty beat she launched into the sky. Neko’s scream echoed through the air as the ground fell away beneath them.
'Breathe. Focus,' Amira’s voice echoed gently in Neko’s mind.
He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, steadying himself with the techniques Timtur had drilled into him. Inhale… hold… exhale. Again. Slowly, his panic ebbed away, replaced by a stillness he could anchor himself to. When he opened his eyes, the world had transformed.
The endless blue sky stretched around him, streaked with wisps of white cloud. Beneath them, the vast green sea of forest rippled in the wind, broken only by the occasional clearing. Neko’s lips curved into a wide grin.
'This is… amazing,' he whispered, leaning down to wrap his arms around Amira’s warm, scaled neck.
Amira rumbled contentedly. 'Does this mean we can fly more often, little one?' She didn’t need his answer, the joy flowing through their bond was enough.
After a moment, Neko’s expression sobered. 'I remember fragments,' he admitted softly. 'But I’m still no closer to finding out who I am. All I know of my mother is that she was… kind. Gentle. The sort of person who made the world brighter just by being in it.'
Amira hummed in thought, her wings slicing through the air. 'What triggered your last memory?'
Neko frowned, recalling. 'A shadow. I saw it from the corner of my eye… and then it came, like the others.'
Amira turned her head briefly to study him, before facing forward again. 'Then shadows… random, unpredictable… They're the sparks that have been pulling your memories to the surface.'
Neko nodded, agreeing silently.
Then, Amira said something unexpected. 'Why not choose a name you like—and go by that?'
The idea struck him like a stone. 'What if… what if it’s not the name my mother called me?' he protested.
Amira banked to the left, wings tilting as a flock of geese scattered with outraged squawks. 'Then think of it as a temporary name, she countered calmly. Better that than “no-name” forever.'
Her words sank deep. Neko thought for a long moment, then sent out a cautious thread of thought. 'Queen Gabija, your majesty… it is I, Nekonata. Might I ask you something?'
A few breaths later, a soft, melodic voice brushed against his mind. 'What is it, Neko? Is everything all right?'
Relief loosened the tightness in his chest—he knew Amira felt it, too. 'Yes, I… I wanted to ask. Can I give myself a name?'
There was a pause, a faint ripple of surprise. 'Give yourself a name?'
Neko explained what he and Amira had discussed, his thoughts tumbling quickly. 'Yes. A temporary name, at least until I find the one my mother gave me. It feels… strange, being “no-name” all the time. Especially in the ancient tongue.'
Silence followed, heavy but not unkind. At last, the queen’s voice returned, thoughtful. 'And what would you like your… temporary name to be, Neko?'
Neko thought hard, rolling a few names over in his mind. 'Daniel, Aaron, Luke, David… Torin, Eryndor, Malachy. Do you like any of those, Amira?'
A soft rumble vibrated through her chest. 'It is your name, little one, not mine.'
Before Neko could reply, Gabija’s voice entered his thoughts, gentle as a breeze. 'Eryndor is an Elvish name. Others you might consider are Caelen… Velorin… Umbric. But Amira is right, this choice belongs to you.'
Neko nodded, gripping the saddle horn as he mulled it over.
'Hold on,' Amira warned suddenly.
He barely had time to tighten his hands around the pommel before Amira rolled her body into a smooth barrel spin, the world cartwheeling around them. Neko let out a startled laugh, his worries scattering into the wind.
'Can you do a loop?' he asked, his voice tinged with challenge.
Amira’s excited rumble shook through her scales. Of course.
Her wings angled, catching the wind, and together they climbed higher, higher, the horizon falling away until the world was nothing but sky. She arched gracefully, carrying them over the top until they were upside down, the vast green sea of trees spinning beneath their heads. Neko’s breath caught in awe. Then the loop carried on, the circle completing, until they levelled upright once more.
The forest rushed by below, but Neko only grinned, exhilarated.
'That was a huge blood rush to the head!' Neko exclaimed, laughter spilling from him as the world steadied again. Let’s not do that too often, he added into Amira’s mind, patting her warm neck.
Then, without warning, the thought surged through him, projected to both Amira and Gabija at once: 'Nekira!'
Both voices echoed back in unison, surprised. 'Nekira?'
Neko laughed softly. 'Yes. My temporary name. The first three letters of Nekonata, and the last three of Amira. Nekira.'
A silence followed, full of weight. Then Amira’s deep voice vibrated with pride. 'Nekira… I like it, little one.'
Gabija’s melodic tone joined after, warm and approving. 'It rolls from the tongue nicely. It is a pleasure to meet you, Nekira.'
A smile broke across his face, wide and unrestrained. Something about the name… it fit. It felt right. Natural. As he embraced it fully, his eyes suddenly flared a brilliant purple-orange, his aura bursting outward in matching hues before fading into the air. A strange warmth settled deep within him… different, but good.
'What happened, little one?' Amira asked, concern threading her thoughts.
‘I don’t know…’ Neko admitted.
Gabija’s voice flowed gently into his mind. 'You have given yourself a name. In doing so, you reshaped your soul. A name carries meaning—and for you, it is a powerful, anchoring thing. This change is nothing to fear. It is a gift.'
Neko relayed her words to Amira, who hummed with agreement. 'Yes… you do feel different. But in a kind, stronger way.'
A sudden doubt flickered in his mind. 'Will everyone accept my new name?'
Amira roared into the sky, her massive wings cutting the air as her eyes sparkled mischievously. 'If they don’t, they’ll have me to answer to.'
Gabija’s laughter chimed like a bell, joining her. 'And me as well!'
Nekira’s heart swelled at their words. For the first time, he felt not nameless… but whole.
Nekira and Amira wheeled gracefully above the forest, circling over Caa Alora. Far below, the Elvish citizens lifted their faces skyward, smiles spreading as children pointed with wide-eyed wonder. Amira’s orange-and-purple scales caught the sunlight, scattering radiant glows that danced across the wooden walkways below. Some of the young ones broke into laughter, chasing the moving shimmer as if they might catch it.
Let’s go back, Amira, Nekira said into her mind, still grinning. We’ve got ancestry records to dig through.
With a slow bank to the right, Amira tilted her wings and descended in a gentle spiral, gliding down until she came to rest within her lofty treetop aery. Nekira slid quickly from the saddle, unfastening the straps around his legs before unclasping the main harness. Half-lugging, half-dragging, he eased the heavy leather into the corner for safekeeping. Then he darted back to Amira, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck.
He slipped through an arched doorway, down a narrow stair into his quarters. A gulp of cool water, a quick bite of buttered bread snatched from the table, then he was off again, darting through another door that opened to the outside steps carved into the tree’s great trunk.
Caa Alora bustled around him, its high platforms alive with song, trade, and the rustling of leaves. Nekira moved briskly toward the palace, his mind already tugged toward the work ahead. Soon, he passed beneath its carved gates and into the corridor of stained glass. Sunlight poured through the colored panes, painting the polished wood floor in shifting hues of emerald, crimson, and gold.
At the great doors of the Red Oak Room, two guards stood at attention. They inclined their heads respectfully and stepped aside, allowing him to enter.
Inside, two familiar figures bounded toward him at once, Santaya and Kristolia. The wolves pressed against his legs, tails sweeping eagerly, and Nekira laughed, scratching them both behind the ears. Then he crossed the chamber to the great oak table where parchments and books lay scattered in organised chaos. Vivi and Elvina stood there, heads bent together as they pored over the records.
The great doors of the Red Oak Room opened once more. Gabija entered with her usual silent grace, her presence seeming to hush the air around her. She came to stand beside Nekira, then cleared her throat softly.
“Vivi, Elvina, may I introduce to you… Nekira.”
Both of them looked up from the piles of parchment, brows furrowing.
“Nekira?” Elvina echoed, puzzled.
Nekira inclined his head and explained briefly. Vivi’s lips curved into a gentle smile; he stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder before clasping his hand firmly. “Nekira it is,” He said warmly.
Elvina followed, all cocky elegance and mischief. She ruffled his hair with a grin. “What’s up, Nekira?” Her words came more as a statement than a question, but the glimmer in her eyes softened it.
Gabija gave him a small, approving nod and then turned her gaze to them at the table. “How goes the search?”
Vivi let out a frustrated groan. “We’ve gone through so much. I could tell you all about Oromir’s ancestral history, or Eryndor’s, or even someone called Eragon, from way, way back.”
Elvina piped up quickly, “Or Thomaz’s line. But something’s… off. His history isn’t complete. We know it’s his family line, but Thomaz’s name isn’t written anywhere. Instead, there’s only an initial—‘J.’”
Gabija’s brows knitted. She stepped closer, peering at the parchment Elvina held. “Strange…” she murmured. Then, in the lilting tones of the ancient language, she whispered a spell.
The ink shimmered. Thomaz’s name appeared, etched beside the mysterious ‘J.’
Gabija’s expression grew grave. “This would mean Thomaz has a brother or sister. One whose name begins with J.”
Vivi scratched the back of his head, frowning deeply. “I spent years with Thomaz and his father. If he had a sibling… I never heard a word about it.”
Nekira drifted toward the far end of the table. His gaze fell upon a thin volume bound in soft, timeworn leather. A silver rune gleamed faintly on the cover, its meaning lost to him, though something in it tugged at the edges of his mind.
A faint breeze stirred, though no window was open. Nekira’s breath caught. His eyes flared purple and orange, light pulsing within them. Almost trance-like, his hand lifted and he drew the book to him.
Elvina noticed first, nudging Vivi. He stiffened, then subtly gestured to Gabija.The three of them watched in silence as Nekira opened the book.
Words poured from his mouth, steady and certain, though his eyes did not once glance at the page.
“Elvina, daughter of Vivi, grandchild of Braiden and Dorianna… great-grandchild, great-great-grandchild, great-great-great-grandchild to Matthious. Niece to Tivor. Tivor has a daughter-”
Gabija leaned close, peering at the open page over his shoulder. Her breath stilled. The words Nekira spoke matched the genealogy written there - line for line, name for name. Yet his gaze was fixed somewhere far beyond the parchment.
Then, as abruptly as it began, the light in his eyes guttered. Nekira staggered, his knees threatening to buckle as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. The connection severed. The air stilled.
The book slipped from his hand onto the table with a dull thud.
Gabija was at his side in an instant, pulling a chair forward. Nekira lowered himself into it shakily, his body trembling. He looked up at the three of them, voice thin. “What… just happened?”
Gabija snapped her fingers at a nearby guard. “Food and drink. Quickly.” The guard bowed and hurried from the chamber.
Meanwhile, Vivi lifted the thin book from the table. He flipped hurriedly through the pages, his brow furrowing. “It’s empty. There’s nothing in here. Blank.”
Gabija took the book from him, frowning. “That can’t be. I saw the words as he spoke them.” Her gaze shifted to Elvina and Vivi. “You two are descended from Matthious, the Corrupter. As is Tivor.”
Elvina stepped forward, her tone cautious. “He also said… Tivor has a daughter.”
Vivi stood rooted to the spot, lips pressed tight as he thought hard. “I don’t know if my brother has a daughter. I’ve never heard of one.” His voice dropped. “If she exists… I wonder who she is. And if she’s safe.”
Gabija’s eyes narrowed, her mind turning over the details. “And your mother’s name. It was spoken… I heard it… but I can’t recall it.”
Vivi blinked in surprise. He opened his mouth, trying to form the word. Nothing came. His face darkened with frustration.
Nekira, accepting a tray from the returning guard, whispered as he raised the cup to his lips. “Dorianna. Your mother’s name is Dorianna.”
Vivi seized on it, muttering, “D… D… yes, Dorianna—” But even as he repeated it, the name slid from his mind like water through his hands. His face went pale. “It’s gone again. Forgotten.”
A gentle ripple of thought washed over Nekira’s mind—Amira’s voice, calm but probing. Little one… is it possible for the ancient language to be woven into a name so that others forget it?
Nekira spoke aloud what she had sent him. “Amira asks… can a name be made to be forgotten?”
Gabija’s eyes darkened with understanding, and she nodded softly.
Vivi’s brow furrowed. “Yes… when Matthious was at the height of his destructive power, he didn’t just destroy lives, he targeted families. Those who refused to follow him… many adopted the practice of weaving magic into names, erasing them from memory. It’s powerful magic, not something one uses lightly. It means… those affected could never see their family again, unless the spell is reversed. And even then… the reversal could put them at risk, or other unforeseen circumstances might undo the safety it provided.”
Nekira’s eyes narrowed. He nodded slowly, the pieces of his fractured memory connecting like threads. “Then… that means your mother… she’s still trying to protect you.” His voice dropped, wary. “But from who? Matthious, maybe?”
Gabija’s gaze darkened further, her lips tight. “Perhaps. Or someone else still bound by his legacy. That is what we must discover.”
Amira’s rumble hummed through his mind, steady and protective. 'We will face it together, little one.'
Nekira looked up from the goblet he was drinking from. “How come… Amira and I can remember the name?”
Elvina spoke first, a thoughtful frown on her face. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of the unique bond you share with Amira. That might be the only possible answer.”
Vivi added, carefully weighing his words, “It’s possible the spell was only woven for those who were present at the time it was cast. I should be shocked… that I’m—” He glanced at Elvina and corrected himself, “we are related to Matthious. But for some reason… I’m not.”
Before anyone could respond, a guard stepped forward, bowing low. “Your majesty, I apologise for the interruption—”
Suddenly, Martheel burst into the chamber, panicked. “Your majesty! White dragon approaching!”
Gabija shook her head sharply and snapped at him, her voice crisp as steel. “Compose yourself, elf!”
The guard, undisturbed by the chaos, gave a polite nod at Gabija, then spoke again. “I was going to say what Scribe Martheel just said, your majesty.” He bowed low once more, his tone steady.
Martheel, however, was still trembling. Nekira rose from his chair, eyes flashing a brilliant purple-orange. The energy from him pulsed outward, calm and commanding. Almost immediately, Martheel’s panic melted away.
“White dragon is friend,” Nekira said quietly, voice soft but certain.
Martheel blinked, swallowing hard. “I-I’m… not scared anymore. H-how?”
Gabija, Vivi, and Elvina stepped past him, allowing Nekira to move toward the chamber doors. A soft smile curved his lips. With a click of his tongue, Santaya and Kristolia padded to his side, tails wagging.
“Come on, girls,” he said, voice light but full of warmth. “Let’s go meet Tara and Elqi.”
They left the palace together, moving past the ancient tree that had become Nekira and Amira’s home. Amira leapt from her aery, wings half-open, gliding down gracefully to the ground to meet them.
The group continued toward the training fields, where Tara and Elqi had been directed by the forest guardian, Mina.
The moment Tara spotted Nekira, she sprinted toward him, flying straight into his arms with a joyful hug. He smiled, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “I’ve missed you too,” he whispered into her ear.
A puff of green smoke erupted, and Loki transformed back into Tivor. He raised his hand to help Cassandra dismount from Elqiana’s saddle; her knees wobbled slightly as her feet touched the ground.
Once everyone was gathered, Tivor hesitated, glancing nervously at Tara.
“I… have some news,” Tara announced, trying to sound casual.
Tivor’s scarred face flushed every shade of red. “Now? Tarasque? Really?” he groaned, but Tara only gave him a dark look, while Elqiana growled beside her.
“Okay, okay!” Tivor threw his hands up in surrender. “Until recently, in the last couple of months, I… I had no idea… but I have a daughter.”
Vivi, Gabija, Elvina, and Nekira exchanged raised eyebrows, the awkwardness thick in the air.
Cassandra, sensing the tension, finally let her patience slip. “Tarasque is Tivor’s daughter... our daughter,” she said firmly.
All eyes fell on Tarasque and Tivor, the revelation sinking in.
Amira’s voice echoed gently in everyone’s minds, trying to ease the tension. 'Someone else has news too,' she said, a playful note underlying her thoughts.
Nekira cleared his throat softly, still holding Tara close. “My name… well, my temporary name is Nekira. That’s what I wish to be called from now on, until I find my real name.”
Tara smiled warmly. “I love it—your name, Nekira. It’s perfect.”
A low rumble of agreement vibrated from Elqiana, who leaned her head slightly toward Nekira in approval.
“Thank you,” Nekira said softly, bowing his head to Tara and then to Elqiana.
Then, turning toward Tivor, his expression grew serious. “Dorianna.”
Tivor’s brow furrowed, completely puzzled. “Dorianna? What’s… what is that?”
“Not what, but who,” Nekira corrected gently. “Dorianna is the name of your mother.”
Tivor tried to repeat it, lips forming the word, but it slipped from his memory as quickly as it came.
“That’s a nice name,” Tara said, her tone light and teasing. “What was it again?”
“No one can remember it… apart from me and you, Amira,” Nekira muttered, frustration rising in his voice.
Amira ruffled her shimmering scales, wings flexing lightly. 'Let me try something,' she sent into his mind.
Closing her eyes, she projected the memory of the name—Dorianna—into everyone’s consciousness. The air shimmered with the effort. For a heartbeat, hope sparked in Nekira’s chest… until it became clear: only the great opal-white dragon, Elqiana, registered the name. Everyone else’s minds remained blank, the memory slipping through like water.
‘I remember but it scratches at my mind until it hurts when I say the name.’ Elqiana projected into Nekira’s mind.
“Dammit!” Nekira hissed under his breath. “How are we supposed to find someone to help them if no one can remember her name?”
A sudden thought struck him, sharp and curious. Were-cats… he murmured. Strange creatures, magical in origin… would this spell even work on them?
He looked around, scanning the city of Caa Alora in his mind. Are there any were-cats here?
“Snowy,” Gabija replied, her tone calm but firm. “She’s Caa Alora’s resident were-cat. She won’t speak if there’s a large group, so it’s best that you and I go alone, Nekira.”
He nodded, determination flickering in his eyes.
Turning to Tara, Cassandra, and Tivor, Gabija continued, “I have rooms ready in the palace for you to rest and freshen up. As for you, Elqiana…” Her gaze softened as she looked toward the opal-white dragon. “I must apologize. At this moment, the only place I can accommodate you is the great hall. I have the finest Elvish craftsmen working to enchant a tree and create an aery and quarters for you and Tara, but it will take some time.”
Tara gave a low bow of thanks, gratitude clear in her expression.
With a powerful beat of her wings, Elqiana lifted into the air, Amira following close behind. The two dragons soared into the sky together, hunting for food and enjoying the freedom of flight.
Meanwhile, Vivi and Elvina guided Tara, Cassandra, and Tivor toward the palace, though Tivor, familiar with the grounds, walked confidently at the front.
Nekira fell into step beside Gabija, his mind focused on the task ahead. The hunt for Snowy would be delicate, and perhaps the key to unlocking the next piece of the puzzle.
Nekira and Gabija walked slowly through the throng of people, weaving between traders calling out their wares and merchants displaying bright fabrics, carved trinkets, and fragrant spices. The air was alive with chatter and the clinking of coins.
A particular stall caught Nekira’s attention, rows of jewellery gleamed in the sunlight, glittering gold and silver mixed with rougher works of bone and hide. He drifted toward it, curiosity tugging at him, and Gabija followed with effortless grace.
“Please, tell us of your wares, Aristos,” she said, her voice carrying quiet authority.
The old man behind the stall bowed low. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Aristos spoke at length, his words a blend of pride and reverence as he explained the differences between Elven delicacy, Dwarven sturdiness, the experimentation of humarfs, and even the primitive craftsmanship of the Undgrolls.
“You have Undgroll jewellery?” Nekira asked, surprised.
The man nodded and placed a small tray before him. “Primitive, yes, but unique.”
On it lay pieces strung from the skulls of small birds, talons bound in cotton, and beads wrapped in animal hide. Crude, yet oddly compelling. Nekira’s gaze, however, was drawn past them, drawn to a gold necklace with a crescent moon, white opals shimmering inlaid across its curve.
Aristos noticed. “This one,” he said, lifting it carefully into Nekira’s hands, “has a partner.”
He rummaged behind the stall and produced a velvet bag. Inside lay a chain of white gold, metal of human invention, with another moon pendant. This one curved the opposite way, its surface set with deep purple gems. When placed together, the two halves formed a full moon, gold and white gold entwined like day and night.
“What are these gems?” Nekira asked, tilting the pendant.
Before Aristos could answer, a soft purr rolled through the air. Nekira looked around, puzzled, until a silky voice said, “For an elf-hume dragon rider, your awareness is abysmal.”
He glanced down. Winding through Gabija’s legs was the fluffiest, whitest cat he had ever seen. With a graceful leap, the cat landed atop the counter, pale fur gleaming, sharp eyes fixing on the pendant.
“A jeweller from Littleon made these,” the cat said, voice smooth as silk. “He was the first to forge what humans call ‘white gold.’ But those gems?” The were-cat’s whiskers twitched. “Amethysts. From lands far beyond the stormy seas.”
Gabija stepped forward, a faint smile softening her features. She reached to scratch the were-cat between the ears. “Well met, Snowy. I had a feeling you’d be close.”
Nekira glanced at Gabija to the necklace. “How much for these?” he asked politely.
Aristos looked at the queen, caught her stern glance, and immediately shook his head. “A gift… from me to you. Please.”
Nekira opened his mouth to refuse, but the merchant quoted an old Elvish saying: It is rude to reject a gift under the boughs of the Great Forest. With a reluctant smile, Nekira accepted, bowing low in thanks.
Snowy flicked her tail and leapt down. “If you wish to speak, follow me. Somewhere quieter.”
As she padded away, unseen by all but Nekira, Gabija muttered a phrase in the ancient tongue. Six golden coins shimmered into being and clinked softly as they landed on Aristos’ counter.
Snowy weaved effortlessly through the press of bodies, the crowd parting as though by instinct. Nekira and Gabija followed, keeping close until the were-cat slipped into a narrow alley. The din of the marketplace faded behind them, replaced by the muted scents of herbs and dried flowers.
Snowy pushed open the door of a small apothecary with her shoulder and padded inside. The air was thick with sage, lavender, and something sharper—perhaps foxglove. She leapt onto the counter in one fluid motion, curling into the nest of a waiting cushion, her tail flicking lazily.
“What is it you want of me, dragon-rider?” she asked, her voice low, resonant, and far too knowing.
Nekira hesitated, studying her, then spoke carefully. “Does magic… affect you and yours the same way it does humans or elves?”
Snowy’s ears twitched. Her eyes, half-lidded, regarded him with feline disinterest. “No, is your simple answer. Were-cats are… strange. Even to ourselves. We have been here nearly as long as dragons. Our nature is not tied to the essence of the land, but to its breath, its pulse. We endure. Longer than humans, though not so long as dwarves. Why do you ask, dragon-rider?”
Gabija exhaled, stepping closer. “Because Nekira wishes to speak a name. A name no one else remembers, no one save him and his dragon.”
Snowy’s gaze sharpened. “Say the name, dragon-rider,” she purred, her voice suddenly soft yet commanding.
Nekira swallowed, then spoke. “Dorianna.”
The apothecary seemed to still. Dust hung unmoving in the light. Snowy stilled too, one paw raised in mid-lick. Then, very slowly, she set it down, pupils narrowing.
“Dorianna…” she repeated, drawing out the syllables like tasting wine. A low purr rumbled from deep in her chest. “Yes. I remember. But it clings like cobwebs. Slips away even as I hold it. This name is bound with purpose… hidden for a reason older than your questions.”
Nekira leaned forward. “Can you keep it?”
Snowy licked her paw again, eyes wide and sharp. “I can. Though it scratches against my thoughts like claws on stone.” Her tail lashed once. “Who is she?”
Gabija glanced at Nekira, then said quietly, “She is the mother of Vivi… and of Tivor.”
Snowy’s golden eyes widened, her fur bristling as though struck with a sudden charge of static. She leaned closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Where is she?”
Nekira’s reply was cautious, steady. “…Held captive. Somewhere.”
“We are trying to find her,” Nekira said, his voice low, almost blending with the rumble in his chest. “She needs help. Tabby and Blacky said they would aid us.”
Snowy’s ears twitched. A deep, rolling purr filled the apothecary. “Then know this, now the chosen leader of the were-cats will help as well.” She kneaded the cushion once with her paws, then curled herself tightly into it. “Go. Leave me. Find you soon, I will.” With a languid flick of her tail, she closed her eyes, the matter settled.
Nekira and Gabija exchanged a glance, then slipped quietly from the shop. The alley brought them back to the bustling noise of the market square, yet something was different. The air felt charged.
As they approached the edge of the square, the stillness shattered. Loud hisses, sharp yowls, and screeches erupted from all sides as a sea of fur swept through the marketplace. Dozens of cats in every shade and pattern streamed between stalls and startled merchants, darting toward alleys and exits with impossible coordination. It was like watching a tide move with one mind.
Nekira stopped, watching the flood of fur vanish into the city’s veins. A faint smile touched his lips. “Looks like Snowy is holding true to her word,” he murmured.
Gabija’s eyes followed the last streaking shadow. “Yes… and when the were-cats stir, the whole forest pays attention.”
The Journey, Book 2: Chapter 36
I had another chapter in mind, I however couldn't share it on here, because it may well have gone against the rules of the forums/site. I still have the chapter written down, and should I ever decide to get these books published that chapter 35 will be in the published versions. For now...
www.chatzozo.com
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