I imagine us as angels. Even before the magic begins, I recognize only the feeling of the key as it dangles loosely around my neck. It is as foreign as it is moving, a token of trust… of a future in the Dragon’s Throat. But it is so much more now- a relic of the growing bond between Caneo and I, a symbol of my return and ultimate promise to remain in the Throat, and even a bond with those I’d failed to meet the first time around. It glows softly against my chest and as it does so, I turn my eyes toward Caneo wanting him to see. The first time I’d crossed the channel into the south, I’d done it by boat with Maren the Priestess. The second had been with Ghost and I’d been able to experience the joys that Caneo too would soon (hopefully) delight in.

When at last he gave me permission to tap into the enchanted power of the key, I smiled animatedly. “Get ready,” I warned. Stepping forward toward the banks of the trench, I waited patiently for the new spy to approach my side. Never before had I used the key myself and didn’t know whether or not it required a touch or simple willpower to activate it, but upon reaching the shore, I felt my body begin to hum with the familiar warmth of magic.

For a moment I let it encapsulate me until I was rising up above both sand and water alike. My stomach dropped away from beneath me and I managed a strangled laugh that bubbled up from its depths like thick bile. Clearly I wasn’t yet accustomed to the imitated notion of flying, but I assumed that one day that would change… with enough practice of course.

The beating of wings sounded on either side of us and again I pictured us as angels preparing to land. It was such a subtle and warm image, one that helped to mask the strange feeling of flight despite a none-too-graceful landing upon the opposite shore. Adrenaline rushed through my veins and erupted in my nerve endings as I turned once again to face Caneo, flushed and surprised. Every time still felt like the first to me… What had it felt like to him?

I was gearing up to prod him for such details when I realized just how tired the weary dreamer might be. He had come a long way presumably and I had no desire to keep him from the rest and relaxation that he deserved. Another day then….

“When you’re ready, I can take you to Ghost. I’m certain that you’ll be wanting some sleep and provisions before embarking on that kind of task,” I stated knowingly. “Sleep well dreamer.”

essetia