[PQ - in progress] What's Left?

[Castile]

and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was

Curiosity, after all these years, sinks down into his pores and kindles a flame in his immortal heart. Fifteen years – or is it more? – that he has been alive and has never been fed from the palm of the faeries. Gratitude has always woven itself into his blood; he has always known and understood the blessings he has encountered and the way life has been so kind to him. The heartbreak, the deceit, and the loneliness derived from his poor choices – it wasn’t the world against him, but the fickleness of his enlarged heart that led him astray.

He has since recovered, since mended his ways and recovered from his past losses.

And, out of the turbulence, for the first time in his life, he has a want from the faeries.

It would be easier to shift and to soar to the mountain peak, but instead Castile humbly walks. From Loess to the peak’s base, and from there to the snow-capped top. Where it is summer throughout their mortal world, winter seemingly has a permanent grip on the faeries’ domain. A frigid wind blasts against his side as Castile climbs the foreboding paths, stumbling occasionally on loosened rocks. He is battered by the elements, tested physically as the air thins and icily claws his throat. In defense, fire coils through his gut and rises, expelling only in a short stream to desperately grope for its heat. Black smoke coils from his nostrils but the wind quickly whips it away just as he reaches the top.

This is all new, all strange. The barren peak suspends his labored breath, responding with silence as his mismatched eyes sweep back and forth.

Shaking away a sudden chill, Castile begins speaking, his voice like iron.

”I’ve never asked anything of you,” he begins as his metallic locks frame his face, ”Not since I’ve been born nearly two decades ago, but I have a request now. I’ve been happy, and I’ve been fortunate, but Beqanna is ever changing and I want to keep up for the sake of my home and family.” What is it, exactly, that he is trying to do? Sell himself away? Clasp shackles around his legs for a prize? ”When I was born, I only ever saw my father and I as dragons. Now, they are spawning everywhere, from every corner. I want to stand higher, to be stronger or more powerful in some way because I do not trust them – and I have worked at myself with something I was born with. It isn’t an easy shift to possess – it took me years upon years to harness it, to understand it. I fear that somehow, for some reason, they may rise against me with their new powers as though to show me I’m no longer alone. I want to protect my family, my home, and myself. Peace never lasts, as you all well know.” His eyes glimmer as they lift to the sky then toward the jaded rocks standing level with him. He wonders if they listen, if they will respond. ”I am a dragon. My blood is dragon. I want to stand above somehow, to be different in preparation for what will likely happen, to follow the change that always plagues Beqanna. Children died and were harmed when Loess was attacked because a new magician was not controlled or kept in check…” He trails off as the memory burns through him.

Shaking his head after his gaze has fallen, he finally musters a brief conclusion. ”For the first time in my life, I have found true love and I have a family. I want to ensure their safety while continuing to bear the pride that my blood possesses for what we are … I know it is a lot to ask, because I love being a dragon and I do not know what scales higher. I know it requires a quest and sacrifice… but to what level to protect lives and thwart my opposition?” Another puff of black smoke sighs from Castile he falls quiet, watching and waiting as his thoughts feverishly reel.

It has been too quiet for too long.
Something is bound to happen. 

castile