Revaramek the Resplendent: Missing Chapter E (Patreon)

As slumber slowly overtook Nyramyn, Revaramek finished sorting and preparing his supplies. He carefully opened the jars, pleased they were large and sturdy enough to accommodate dragon-sized digits. Korakos came over to inspect them, sniffing at each new substance. He scrunched his muzzle at the herbal, bitter smelling salve, then tried to dip his paw into the stickier resin.

Revaramek gently nudged him aside. “Oh, no. You mother won’t be pleased if I let you play with that stuff.”

Korakos tilted his head up. “What is it?”

“I’ll show you in a moment.” He watched Nyramyn, observing her breathing. It was slower than before, and evenly paced. “I think your mother is asleep now, but let’s give it a few minutes longer to ensure the herbs have really kicked in. With any luck, she’ll be able to sleep through what we’re about to do.”

Evening settled in as they waited. The sun finally vanished below the horizon, and in its wake, the darkening sky looked bruised. Fireflies emerged from hidden shelters, filling Mirelle’s garden with tiny, wandering lights. Korakos stared at them in awe, following a few of them around in a misshapen circle.

“Father!” Youthful glee filled Korakos’ voice. “There’s magic bugs!”

Revaramek chuckled. “They’re not magic, Kor. And don’t yell. Your mother is sleeping, remember?”

Korakos dropped his voice to an excited, hissing whisper. “But there’s magic bugs everywhere!”

“Again, they’re not magic. They’re called fireflies.” Revaramek surveyed Mirelle’s yard. More and more glowing insects continued to emerge, joining their brethren in the sky until it was as if the dragons were drifting amidst the stars themselves. “But you’re right.” Revaramek perked his ears. “They areeverywhere. I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many fireflies, before.”

Korakos padded after another one. “Hi, firefly!”

“It’s a shame your mother is missing this.” Revaramek stroked Nyra’s leg as gently as he could, not wanting to wake her. “She’d probably think she was hallucinating it.”

For a little while, the two dragons simply watched the fireflies. The myriad flickering lights danced all around them, weaving beautiful patterns of golden light. Revaramek had seen swarms of them before, but he’d never found himself in the midst of one so large. Even Korakos seemed awed, more interested in watching the spectacle than chasing after the bugs. Far above them, the true stars gradually emerged across the darkened sky. Their distant, sparkling gaze made it seem as if the clouds of flickering lights stretched onwards to infinity.

Eventually, Revaramek forced himself to return his attention to his mate. “Korakos,” he said, patting the blankets next to Nyra. “Do you want to help me change your mother’s bandages?”

“Yeah!” Korakos bound to his father, layers of drifting fireflies parting around him. “I wanna help momma!”

“Good.” Revaramek shifted to sit on his haunches, facing Nyra’s side. “First, we have to remove the old bandage. You can help me with that.” He unsheathed a few claw tips, then ever so gently worked them under the edges of the gauzy fabric. “Use your claw tips, careful as you can. The bandage is fixed to her scales with sticky sap. Get hold of the edge of it when you can and help peel it off. Slowly.”

Together, the two dragons carefully removed the dressing covering Nyra’s wounds. The resin that affixed it to her left a little sticky residue clinging to her green scales. When the bandage was removed, Revaramek set it aside. Beneath it, Nyra’s wound, though still fresh, looked clean and healthy. The once ragged, puffy scar was gone, replaced with a long, even, pinkish line, crisscrossed with countless sturdy black stitches. The surgeons had removed a few extra rows of scales to ensure they had plenty of room to close her up. Korakos stared at the injury, wide-eyed. Lights danced across his eyes as fireflies whirled overhead.

“Those are the stitches.” Revaramek used a claw tip to indicate a few of them. “They’ll help your mother heal now that the humans have cut out the infection. You and I have to help keep watch on her injury though, to make sure it doesn’t get infected again. See how her skin looks pink, where they took the scales away?” When Korakos nodded, Revaramek went on. “Whenever we change this dressing, we have to look and make sure it isn’t turning red, or oozing anything yucky.”

Korakos gave a little gasp. “Like when a swamp crab pinched my paw and gave me a big cut and then yellow stuff came out for three days?”

Revaramek scrunched his muzzle, rather glad he’d missed that particular episode. “Yes, like that. Right now, everything looks nice and clean. Which is good! The bandages should help protect her stitches, and also protect her from infection. We also have spirits to rinse the wound with, and some salve we can apply to the inside of the bandage, before we put it on her.”

Korakos looked back and forth between his mother and Revaramek a few times. “So, Momma…” A hint of worried trepidation crept into the hatchling’s voice. “Momma will finally get better, now? She won’t be sick anymore?”

The hatching’s words were a sudden vice, crushing Revaramek’s heart. Strength left him in a cold flood. He sagged, his ears drooping, wings hanging limp at his sides. He worked his jaws a few times, but found neither the strength nor the words to reply. Korakos stared up at him, his jaw trembling. Revaramek hated that his own body language told his poor son all he needed to know. With no comforting answer to give, Revaramek simply picked Korakos up, and hugged him against his chest.

“You…you know?” Revaramek took a shaking breath, struggling to force words through his uncomfortably constricted throat. “You know your mother is sick?”

“Uh huh.” Korakos tilted his head back, staring up. “She got tired a lot. And she got skinny! So I gave her my food, and went on patrol so she didn’t have too!”

The vice around Revaramek’s heart grew tighter still. He sucked in a trembling breath, fighting back tears, if only to avoid breaking down in front of his son. “That’s so thoughtful, of you…”

What else was he to say? For at least the thousandth time, Revaramek cursed Asterbury for forcing him to leave his family alone in that horrible place. To abandon Nyra to slowly wither, and to leave Korakos to watch it happen. And of course, their beautiful son would try in his own way to save their mother. Then again, if it was truly Korakos’ nascent spark that guided Nyra to the marsh, then perhaps Korakos had saved her. If, and only if, Revaramek could find a way to heal the poison’s lasting damage. He wondered then, if Korakos already understood just how sick his mother truly was.

“Your mother…” Revaramek swallowed, struggling to continue. “She’s been sick for a long time, Kor. Since even before you were born. And over the years, she’s only grown weaker. That’s part of the reason she needed the humans to help her heal, today. But this won’t…” His breath caught, his voice rattled in his tightened throat. “This will help, for a while. But it won’t take away her sickness. She’s still…she’s going to…” He could not bring himself to finish that sentence.

Korakos sniffled, and tears brimmed in his little eyes. He pressed his paw against his father’s chest, staring up at him. “It’s okay, Father.” His voice trembled. “It’s okay.”

His son’s simple comfort shattered Revaramek’s heart. A sob erupted, and he clutched Korakos tightly, cradling his beloved child. His tears quickly reduced Korakos to the same, and soon the little hatchling was weeping against Revaramek’s scales. In the back of his mind, Revaramek could not help but wonder if Korakos knew just what it was his father struggled to say. She’s going to die. For a while, Revaramek simply held Korakos, and together they cried for the dragon they both loved.

When at last their collective tears had eased, Revaramek gave Korakos a few slow, tender licks before lowering him back to the blankets. Korakos nuzzled at Revaramek’s paws, then gently set his own paw against his father. He stared up at her, and despite the fear and pain coursing through them both, the hatchling found a way to smile.

“It’s okay, Father.” Korakos spoke the words with even more conviction, this time. “Momma will get better! She has clean water, now! And she has you!”

Revaramek sniffled, cringing inside. How could he ever tell his son that might not be enough? For now, he wouldn’t. Not until he had given everything he had to try and save Nyra. Instead, he forced himself to match Korakos’s smile. “She damn sure does, Korakos.” He stroked his son’s neck. “And she has you, too.”

“Uh huh!” Korakos arched into Revaramek’s touch. “We’ll help her get better!”

With his free paw, Revaramek wiped his eyes. “We’ll certainly do our damnedest.”

Korakos slapped his paw against Revaramek. “Our damnedest!”

Revaramek blinked, then chuckled, stroking Korakos’ neck again. “Don’t repeat that around your mother.”

He turned his attention to Nyra, watching her breathing. It remained slow and even. She was either still fast asleep, or adeptly feigning it. His gaze drifted down her slender, green scaled body. In his memories, she wasn’t so thin. She’d always been lean, for a dragon, but now she was bordering on malnourished. At least the clean water and large, nutritious meals of the marsh were helping. Her ribs were not as visible as they were when they’d first been reunited. Nyra had managed to put on at least a little weight, lately. Yet even when he first met her, despite all her exuberance and joy, she’d never been fully healthy. Day by day, drop by precious drop, the swamp had been draining her life away since long before Revaramek ever met her.

Acting on instinct and memory, Revaremek set a paw upon Nyramyn. In his mind, he reached inside himself, searching for the well of warmth and imagined light that was his spark. He willed it into being, bid it to pour forth through his touch, and into Nyra. And then he spoke the same words he once whispered every single night in the swamp.

“Nyramyn was not poisoned.”

Warmth poured through him, streaming from his heart, through his fingers, and into his beloved mate. Fireflies danced around him, suddenly frantic. Nyra twitched in her sleep, took a deep breath, and then stilled again. Revaramek smiled to himself. It was not the first time he’d repeated the old ritual since their reunion, nor would it be the last. Though he knew it was likely too late to make difference now, it would not stop him from trying.

“Did you do magic?” Korakos turned towards Nyra, and put his paw upon her. “I wanna do magic too! Momma isn’t sick anymore!”

Revaramek smiled down at his son, wistful. “If only it were that easy.” He ran his paw along Nyra’s scales, just above her stitched wound. “You know, when I first met your mother, long before you were born, I used to speak those words every night. At the time, I’d only just learned about my spark.” He glanced at Korakos again. “My magic, as you call it.”

Korakos tilted his head. “How did you learn?”

Revaramek blinked. A stream of images poured through his mind. He saw Aylaryl, bloodied and dying, a great palisade piercing her. He heard Asterbury terrified, and speaking with Vakaal’s voice, for the very first time. He glimpsed himself, helping to heal Aylaryl, while Asterbury’s true powers were still suppressed by the pup struggling to contain the monster. Then he saw the old gate in the swamp, calling to him, awakening something within. And then witnessed Asterbury cast him into a great flood, intent on drowning him in the swamp…Only for his spark to save him, for all the strange creatures to answer his magic’s call. They carried him along, and pulled him back to shore.

All the strange creatures…

“That is a very long story,” Revaramek said, looking up at all the fireflies. All at once, he could not help but wonder if they had somehow summoned them all here. He lifted a paw, reaching towards the glittering swarm. As he waved his limb, the fireflies wove back and forth, back and forth, as if dancing with his forepaw. “Hello, little friends. Did…did we call you here?”

The fireflies did not answer.

“Father’s talking to bugs!” Korakos giggled, lifting a paw to emulate his father’s movements. “Hi, glow bugs!”

Revaramek slowly set his paw back down, and the fireflies resumed their slow, aimless wandering above him. “Not sure how that’s any stranger than you talking to frogs.”

“Frogs talk back!” Korakos put his paw back down. “They say…brrriiippp!” He hopped back and forth. “And then they jump! Like this!” He hopped around a few more times.

Revaramek laughed at his son’s best frog impression. “Yes, they certainly do.”

Revaramek went quiet for a little while, turning his attention back to his slumbering mate. He spent years with her before they parted, and every night he willed his spark to remove the poison from her body. Over those years, she’d never declined the way she had in his absence. What if, he wondered, he hadn’t left the swamp? What if, for all their lonely years apart, he’d continued to will his power to heal her? Would the damage be less? Would she have been healthier now? Then again, Asterbury swore to him that if he stayed, Korakos would not have survived. The memory made Revaramek cringe. He took a slow breath, trying to force such thoughts from his head. Whatever might have been, no longer mattered. All that mattered was the present, and saving Nyra now.

“Korakos,” Revaramek said, beckoning his son closer. “Do you still want to help me ‘do magic’, as you put it?”

“Yeah!” Korakos hurried back over. “Can we help momma with your magic?”

“We can certainly try,” Revaramek said.

Korakos nodded, thumping a paw against the blanket. “We’ll try out damnedest!”

“You’ve got to stop saying that.” The dragon pointed towards Nyra’s wound. “Stand near your mother’s side, right there.” He set his paw near Nyra’s wound, just beyond the sticky remnants of the bandage’s resin. “Then put your paw over mine.”

Korakos moved into position. He reared up onto his hind legs, bracing one paw against his mother’s underbelly, with the other resting atop Revaramek’s. “Now we do magic?”

“It’s called the spark, Korakos.” Revaramek licked his nose, splaying his ears. “Or at least, that’s what I’ve settled on calling it myself, lately. It’s had many names over the years, from the ember to…” He trailed off when Korakos only stared blankly at him. “Yes, you’re right, little one. The name is unimportant. Let’s stick with the spark.”

Korakos playfully slapped at his father’s paw. “I wanna help momma now!”

“Yes, you’re right. That’s far more important than proper monikers.” Revaramek smiled at the hatchling. “First, take a deep breath, and hold it.” Revaramek did so in example. “Then, as you exhale, imagine a great pool of warmth, inside your heart. Feel it deep inside you, and call to it.”

Korakos inhaled deeply. “Come here, warmth!”

Revaramek tried not to laugh. “Close enough. Now, imagine the warmth in your heart spreading. Bid it to spread through your body. To do as it is bidden.”

Korakos scrunched his muzzle. “Spread, warmth! Make me warmer! And do my bedding!”

This time, Revaramek couldn’t help a rumble of amusement. “Something like that.” He took a moment to call to his own spark, deep inside him. The radiant pool within his heart gradually expanded again, filling again, flowing to his limbs. “Now, Korakos. In your mind, focus on your spark. Feel it’s warmth throughout your body.” He paused a moment, and when Korakos splayed his ears in concentration, Revaramek tilted his head. “Do you feel it?”

“Uh huh.” Korakos nodded several times. “It’s tingly! Like all the fireflies went inside me!”

“Good!” Revaramek curled his tail in growing excitement. “You’re a natural. Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you’ve been using your spark for years without ever even realizing it.”

Korakos looked up, mimicking his feather’s cocked head. “I have?”

“Your stories.” Revaramek made a grand sweeping gesture with his other forepaw. “The ones that guided your mother here. But let’s focus on the moment, shall we? Focus on the warmth within yourself, and on the tingling. Imagine it pouring through your body, down your leg, into my paw, and finally, into your mother.”

Korakos furrowed his eye ridges, his tail tip twitching back and forth. After a few moments, he gave a startled gasp. “I did it!”

Before Revaramek could reply, a strange, warming sensation spread from Korakos’s paw through his own. Soon, his whole limb was tingling. His own power reacted to it, twining with it, propelling it further into Nyramyn where it spread throughout her body. Revaramek’s spines lifted, his eyes wide. That was new, he thought. He’d never actually experienced someone else’s spark interacting with his quite like that, before.

“You sure did,” he said, his voice soft. “Now, while it’s still flowing from your heart, repeat after me. Repeat after me, and believe it. Nyra…” He paused, amending himself for Korakos’ benefit. “Momma was not poisoned.”

Korakos stared at his mother, beneath their paws. “Nyra-Momma was not poisoned.”

The fireflies swirled around them, their shimmering dance increasing in pace and complexity. Revaramek spared them a glance, but swiftly looked back to Korakos. The hatchling was intensely focused on his mother. His eyes glittered. The power flowing from him, into his parents grew warmer still. Nyramyn twitched a little under their shared touch.

Revaramek licked his nose and spoke again. “Momma was not poisoned.”

“Momma was not poisoned!” Korakos spoke louder, angrier. More heat rushed through his paw, and into Revaramek’s. His claws came out, prickling at his father’s scales. “Momma was not poisoned!” He hissed at her, baring his fangs. “Momma was not poisoned!”

All around them, the fireflies gathered. Their pattern shifted, the randomness of their skyward dance fell away. Soon, they were all moving together, swirling in an ever-tightening spiral around the two dragons. The wind picked up, rattling the pine boughs. It picked up scattered needles, flinging them around in tiny whirls. And all the while, Korako’s paw grew hotter, his words were more fervent.

“Momma was not poisoned! Momma was strong! Momma was not sick!”

The fireflies drew nearer still, whipping through the air at speeds their tiny bodies were not meant to know. Tighter and tighter they swirled, until they’d created a vortex of spinning lights, beautiful and yet disconcertingly centered right on Korakos. Some of them smashed into Revaramek, bouncing off his scales and back into the air to rejoin the spiral. Others could not recover from the impact, and fell to the blankets below, twitching.

“I think that’s enough, Kor.” Revaramek tried to lift his paw away, only to find it fixed in place, as if the warmth pouring from his son was a leaden blanket laid across his limb. Though Revaramek was certain he could use his own power to free himself, he feared using too strong an approach might hurt Korakos. Instead, he took a breath, willing himself to remain calm, even as his heart thundered in his chest.  “Kor, that’s enough!”

Korakos wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on his mother, his mind on saving her. Every word he spoke now was somehow both a plea, and an accusation, anger and desperation mingling together like some instinctual incantation. “Momma was not sick! Momma was strong!” Korako’s whole body began to shake. His wings trembled. His claws unsheathed, digging into Revaramek’s paw. The hatchling did not even seem to notice. “Momma was healthy! Momma’s wound was healed!”

Nyramyn gasped in her slumber, her limbs stretching. Korakos’s paw was like an ember against Revaramek’s, a burning coal searing through his scales. The hatchling’s spark now seized upon his own, drawing from it, wrenching it from Revaramek for its own uses. Revaramek’s belly twisted. He sure as hell hadn’t expected thatto happen. Suddenly, Asterbury’s voice echoed through his head.

His spark will be far stronger than yours.

All around them, the fireflies whipped past, their spiral’s turning increasing again, until their flight reached velocities their wings simply could not take. Some of them began to drop from their air, bouncing across Revaramek’s scales, and over the blankets, already in their shuddering death throes. Winds howled from all directions. A strange, acrid scent permeated the air. Korakos wheezed, his breath rattling. Just below their paws, Nyramyn’s wound began to close of its own accord. Her stitched flesh melded together at one end, leaving only a scar. Then the scar too, started to vanish, like an artist’s line being erased.

“Korakos!” Revaramek barked his son’s name like an angry command. At the same time, he called to his own spark, bidding it to disentangle itself from Kor’s. Something roiled inside him, breaking free of his son’s magic. Revaramek then willed it to begin prying Korakos’ uncontrolled power, still pinning down his paw. “Korakos, stop!”

Korakos blinked a few times, slowly looking up at his father. Confusion flickered in his eyes, as if he suddenly wasn’t sure what he was doing, or who he was looking at. The hatchling’s power wavered, and some of the weight lifted from Rev’s paw. He took the opportunity to finish freeing himself, and imagined his spark removing Korakos’ inadvertent barrier like carefully peeling away wet clay. As soon as his paw was free, he yanked it away from Nyramyn, breaking their connection. When their bond was severed, Korakos flopped over onto the blankets. The surviving fireflies scattered in all directions, like shrapnel from a great explosion. The howling winds died to nothingness.

“Korakos!” Revaramek snatched him up, terror coursing through him in a frozen rush. “Korakos, are you alright?” He pulled the hatchling to his head, intent on checking his breath, listening for his heart. Panic erupted. His paws went cold, and his belly dropped into his tail. Oh, gods, he thought, why the hell did he ever let Korakos try this? He glanced towards Mirelle’s house, then the Cathedral, wondering how long it would take to rouse her, so she could guide him to the healers. “Korakos, say something!”

Korakos coughed once, then lifted his head. He wriggled around in his father’s grasp until he could stare up at Revaramek’s face. “Did I do it? Did I do magic?” A big grin spread across his muzzle. “Did I help momma?”

Revaramek’s jaw dropped. “K-Kor? You’re…alright? How…how do you feel?”

“Tired!” He twisted around, trying to see Nyramyn. “Did I heal momma?”

Revaramek cradled Korakos against his chest, staring down at Nyramyn. Her stitched wound was now only half as long as it had been. “You did.” Revaramek swallowed, shifting Korakos in his grasp to take hold of a foreleg. Korakos’ tiny forepaw still trembled, even if the hatchling didn’t seem to notice. “But I don’t think we can let you do that again.”

“But-”

“You’re too young, Kor.” Revaramek pulled him closer, cradling his son against his chest. “That took way too much out of you.” That was all Korakos needed to know, for now.

“But…” Korakos nuzzled at Revaramek’s chest. “I helped momma?”

Revaramek lowered his head to give Korakos a gentle lick. “Yes, son.” Now that Korakos seemed alright, his fear was slowly abating. Warmth gradually returned to his icy paws. He slowly set Korakos back down. “You did. You did a very good job.”

As Korakos settled back onto his feet, he turned a slow circle, looking at all the dead and dying fireflies. “What happened to the bugs?”

Revaramek furrowed his eye ridges, his spines lifted in concern. “You didn’t see that?”

Korakos shrugged his wings. “I was looking at momma!”

“Then I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Revaramek swept as many of the dead insects off the blankets as he could. “I can’t believe that didn’t wake your mother.” He watched Nyramyn for a little while. Her body had stilled, and her breathing evened out again. “Either our spark made sure she stayed asleep, or those are some reallygood herbs we gave her.”

Korakos sniffed around the blankets, then moved closer to his mother. He sniffed at Nyra, then finally tilted his head back, scenting the air. “It smells funny now.”

“Yes.” Revaramek swallowed hard. The scorched, acrid scent still permeating the air was all too familiar. “That’s the smell of the spark, Kor. The smell of change. You’ve changed that which is…” He gestured to Nyra’s wound, only half as long as it was before. “To that which wasn’t meant to be.” He traced a gentle line where the injury once extended. Now, even the scar was gone. It was as if she’d only ever suffered a much smaller wound. “And when the story changes…”

“Momma feels better?”

Revaramek laughed at that, nodding. “Yes, Kor. When the story changes, Momma feels better.”

“Then let’s change momma’s story even more!” Kor swatted the blankets, rattling a few dead fireflies.

“Don’t worry, Korakos.” Revaramek stroked the hatchling’s head. “I intend to.”