Chapter 106 - The Things Left Unsaid

[To None Except I]

Untold Self Reflection # 1

Now then, let me think back to the time when I first met Arina, the girl who made me ever the more curious about emotions. My companionship with her would propel me toward a feeling I never quite had before—

Or at least pretended and wanted to have.

Arina was a little over six months older than me—I was nine and a half years old, whereas she was a little over ten years of age.

During that time, my father and I had been staying in Lun City, a well-off city in the western region of Shail Kingdom. It was a trade city that specialized in seafood, pearls, and various other kinds.

We, my father and I, stayed in this city for six more months due to business. My father obtained more contracts and starting spreading his name among the western mercantile routes. He was a hard worker, my father, especially ever since my mother died giving birth to me.

Perhaps I was deceiving myself when I say I did not particularly care about the fact that I only had a single parent. And perhaps I was further deceiving myself when I say I was not curious about my mother.

It was a subject upon which I never particularly touched upon, even with my child-like curiosity that wanted to know everything. The only thing I truly knew of my mother was she was similar to me, appearance wise, that is. I also recognized the look father would sometime have when he would stare at me, and when he thought I was not looking.

At these times, he gave me a look of such piercing sadness that even I felt overwhelmed. Inadvertently, I would look up at the sky just to check if it was raining. It was at these times that I would verify whether the phrase, “the skies themselves were crying for my sorrow,” held any grain of truth to it.

It held no grain of truth. Never did the sky cry once.

Being the son of an increasingly famous merchant, I met a variety of people, all of whom stared at me with a dark wonder. Their stares felt as if two giant eyes were following me around. They were stares that wondered why this six to nine year old child always had a silent and withdrawn expression, never a smile on his face.

Sometimes, during these meetings, I would also be introduced to the children and family of the people of the other side, whom my father was contracting with.

The phrase, “the adults have to work, so you children go out and play,” came into mind, as these business partners sent their children to play somewhere else while they dealt with business.

I never truly felt a sense of belonging with these playmates. I merely watched from the sidelines, wondering why they would play such childish games. There was no point to any of it.

And why did they look at me with such strange expressions?

Distrust? Incongruity?

Perhaps there was just this natural sense in the children that told me that I was different from them, that I did not belong. Upon asking these young peers of mine, I learned that it was due to my cold, expressionless, blue eyes, and a strange vibe that I gave out, that only the young could sense.

I gave up trying to fit in after that. It was just merely not worth my time, spending time with children my age.

This secret decision I made to myself was soon revoked when I met Arina, a ten year old girl who was half a year older than me.

I could not lie to myself. There was just something about her that drew my attention.

Was it the look of strong solitude she had in her eyes when she played with her dolls all alone, as the sun gradually set for the night?

Perhaps, or perhaps not. I did not know enough.

I was curious, curious enough to even barge into her house.

This meeting with her changed my life and I felt the hands of time within me inexorably move. It was an unexplainable feeling.

Arina was the first child my own age who did not shy away from me. She was the one who acted naturally around me, the force of her personality allowing no other intrusions.

Perhaps that was what drew me to her, I would think in the deepest part of my mind.

In the six months I started following her along, we eventually became equals, though she was always the leader, the catalyst that would move the pair of us. I was merely following along.

When I turned ten years old, father and I left Lun city, his business finished. We never stayed in one place for a particularly long time, being traveling merchants. Perhaps in his own way, father was doing me a kindness, dragging me along on his travels as a merchant, meeting various people, and seeing different parts of lives. Or perhaps it was a disservice.

Looking back, I never said one word of farewell to Arina before I left the city. It was on that day that the sky cried, or perhaps merely rained.

I was not sorrowful, though, so I could only think the sky raining was merely a coincidence to my departure.

It was on this day that I became independent, distancing myself from my surroundings, watching the emotions and expressions of other people, in the hopes that I could one day emulate them.

For the first time in my life, I tried smiling as the raindrops from the skies battered themselves atop my hooded face. My smile was not seen under the shadows of my hood, and any noises were hidden as the constant rain battered itself upon my head, upon the neighing horses, upon the heads of my companions, including my father, and upon the muddy ground around us.

Not one grain of truth was found underneath the indifferent rain.

It was merely a facade.

I was still not admitting to myself of the simple truth that I was different.

Still, this admittance of truth came the very year I left Lun city at the age of ten. It was when a drunk guard from a caravan we were traveling with told me this:

“You have the coldest, blue eyes I have ever seen on a person. That, and you have the look of a noble bastard.”

You no doubt remember me vaguely saying this phrase in one of my discourse. These words struck a chord within me. But truth be told, I did not feel any surprise at this revelation. I suppose in some small part of my mind, I knew that I was different.

I was merely not admitting to myself as a small child that I was different from the others my age.

The deepest, darkest secret I buried inside my mind:

Why was I born this way? Why couldn't I be normal? Why? Father? Mother?

Thus, I decided a vow on the day that I realized I had a dampened emotional mind. I would bury everything under my fake facades. I would bury everything underneath a shell of indifference. I would live for the sake of survival. I would not be bogged down by regrets or pain, and a love that I could not even feel.

It was the least I could do for myself until the day I die.

Then everything changed.

My reincarnation into a dragon was a life-changing portent.

Upon retrospection, in these seven years I have lived as a dragon, I have changed, my many meetings and my many bindings inexorably changing me.

Elisa Ballard, Ryia Altard, Milli Gobumi, Princess Amara, Lizil, Alice Silver, Veena, Lady Calina Serle, Gustav Serle, Kizam Vulcram, Efari, Eden, Kiara, Aqua, and many others whom I would meet in the future changing me slowly.

The binding of the Lesser Fire Elemental, however, has changed me the most. It has increased the intensity of my dampened emotions to the point that my past self would have been surprised at my present self, who is much more expressive toward close friends, and even closer bond-mates.

And last but not least, Navra Bloodseeker, the catalyst of all my changes.

[To None Except Rhea and I]

Untold Self Reflection #2

Rhea of the Wanderers, a scarred desert nomad woman who was twice my age and held captive as a slave. I had met her at the age of fourteen in my past human life after an incident which almost took my life.

She had stayed with me for a greater part of two years of my life and was a teacher and a close friend to me. I was attracted to her, but not to the point of love, an emotion which I could never truly feel.

Her story was a sad one.

She belonged to the Wanderers tribe located in the Malakar Desert, near to the furthest east of Shail Kingdom. She was a strong woman with a scarred body as harsh as the desert sun. Yet none of this affected her determination.

There was a fire of intelligence in her eyes which were the color of desert sand. She was not a beautiful woman, perhaps closer to being handsome than beautiful. In a way, I felt a kinship with her also.

Her outer appearance served as a mirror to my inner appearance. We were strangely opposites.

Her whole Wanderers Tribe had abandoned the Malakar Desert due to the onset of a wave of monsters, sand dwellers known as the Skaros. With leathery reptilian skin, they were lizards that dwell among the sands.

I do not know much about the Skaros, only that this race of monsters drove the Wanderers Tribe out of the Malakar Desert, forcing the desert nomads to flee west. Thus, a journey that lasted years began, until only Rhea was the survivor left out of her whole family. It was near Death's doorstop that she was captured by traveling slavers.

The rest of her story is easy to imagine, yet hard to swallow.

The pain of being a slave, a natural acclimation toward pain, a bending of your will. Harsh trials awaited her, yet she bore through them with clenched teeth and determination, her will to survive strong blazing in her heart.

Perhaps that was what attracted her to the slightly wavering fourteen year old that was me. Her strong heart and her determination.

But alas, I never did get to tell her what I felt about her, even though she had told me that she loved me during the two years we were together.

It was a strange curiosity. Why would she love someone like me?

It was a deep-lingering question inside the furthest, darkest reaches of my mind, never to be shown and revealed.

Why? Why?

Death is such a bother with impeccable and regretful timing.

Hah.