She confirms that the green spirit had faced death, but the magic she handled so delicately had woven this dragon back into the equation of reality— she'd given it another chance at life, even if it was only for brief glimpses, she allowed it to exist. It was an intriguing thought to ponder, one that I'm sure I would dwell on later— but now was no time for thinking deeply and losing myself to the ideas of life, death and all the insignificant points in between. 

The reptilian specter spouts red hot flames, a thick column shooting from it's translucent maw and heating the air above them in a brilliant display. I'm left in awe at this ghost dragon's abilities, that it has not lost touch with its own magic despite having lost its body and its actual existence. I was buzzing with more questions, with a need to know more about this magic— how it worked, what else it could do, and if the green was the only spirit she could produce. I began simple, listing them off and scrambling them up, picking at random the first one I'd ask. "Is it only the green one? Or are there more?" It's the first question (or questions really) to spill from me, eyes never abandoning the shimmering form that hovered above us. 

I wrinkled up my nose, furrowed my brow, and raised my lip at the boy's declaration of his species. He was younger than I— perhaps only by a hair— but our ages did not deter me from hating him so. It was a vile disgust, a putrid feeling to be beside something so filthy. He was disgusting and shameful, yet so horrifically proud of his petty existence that I felt my teeth grinding together in an attempt not to shout out destructive insults. The boy thought he had enough privilege to look at me, and I felt my patience with the floundering mongrel lessening. He was so oblivious— so grossly okay with being repulsive. It was like he hadn't lived a day in the real world, hadn't had a loving strike planted across his cheek from his dam, hadn't been forgotten by his sire. I felt hatred boiling up beneath my skin, consuming my existence as my eyes settled on him with absolute fury. 

The fact that the younger spoke so freely, so openly, and the mare didn't even try and shut him up— I felt dirty. Like I'd let some pig wallow in my bed before lying in it, I felt tainted and sick. I wanted to shut him up, to scream at him to not ask questions when he was in no position to be questioning anything. Even if he was curious, inferior idiots do not get answers. They are left to wonder, to roll over and over in their minds thoughts that they can barely even begin to comprehend with their smaller brains. Yet there he was, opening his mouth and blabbering questions like it was his right to. How disgusting. 

What may have been worse— she answered. The dragon mare answered willingly to the foul babe, spoke directly to it and her voice never wavered in disgust. I felt ashamed to have someone so docile among the equines, someone to willing to stoop down to new lows to answer petty children's questions. The only one she should be talked to is me, I am the one who can bring ruin to her. I will remember her face and her crime— I will serve justice and rightfully bring down the tainted equines within our race. She was the first. 

Her dragon flitted between my legs, around my body, spiraling away with a gentle grace that swayed my anger— leaving me momentarily drifting in some timeless place where my emotions became null, where I simply admired the emerald spirit and his gleaming ghastly scales. But he darted over to the boy, and it all stopped there. How dare a creature that represents my race go to him. For all I knew, he had no relation to an equine, and he was a boring unicorn with some half-assed horn sprouting out of his brow. 

She asks a thought provoking question, she asks what I am. It is the second time, and still I do not understand. My eyes wander to the golden fool, the peasant child who I knew would respond with something idiotic and meaningless. I swallow thickly, wading through the ever expanding pool of my thoughts, sorting through them all to find the answer. What am I? What— am— I? This question poses a serious threat to my mental stability, bringing up the relevance of my existence, the meaning behind it, the reason I walk through this earth now and not years before. "I am a future king of the world!" I proclaimed, straightening myself until I was my full, impressive height of all too short. I was cursed to be an angry baby for the next year of my life, so making such proclamations like this was a bit underwhelming. Nevertheless, I held fast to my pride and stood my ground. 

Of course, no one has ever bothered to explain to lil ol' me that this is not how the world works. Being a king of an entire planet is not the duty of anything mortal, but bringing myself to such low (low) levels is not on my bucket list. I'm going to keep dreaming, keep believing that one day I'll control the earth beneath my feet and every living, breathing thing that roams it. I do not realize I will never get to scream 'fear me, insignificant mortals!' to the earth below me and all its residents, that I will remain unknown to the rest of the world. The only place I will ever be known is here, within the confines of Helovia.