The Bird and the Wyrm-Chapter 57

I set the watering can back when I’d taken it and walked over to see better what she was doing. "I have no idea," I replied.

"There is a theory in science that postulates that all life, or at least what the common person considers ’life’, originated from the sea," Aunt Yeung began she worked the pestle on the plant vines, turning them into a paste. "Whales came up on land, grew feet and hands, then some decided to return to the sea while some decided to remain. Those that returned, eventually lost their feet and their hands became flippers, but they never ended up losing their toes. Slice open a whale in the right spot and you’ll find them: their toe bones."

She stopped her mashing and pointed at a brass tool across the table which I quickly grabbed and gave to her. She took it without thanks and used it to strain the liquid from the paste into yet another glass jar.

"Some people think that the future is in the past, that humans have destroyed the earth beyond repair and that the only way forward is to regress backward. Some people believe only in progress, that humanity should quickly strip itself of its past to better stride into the future, strip away tradition and all other barbaric, backwards practices and mold together to become one. Little Dragon, which do you think is right?"

I was startled by the sudden question and had to think a moment to bring myself back to the present.

"I think... I think there shouldn’t just be two options," I said weakly. "I think... it’s probably not so simple." I spared a look at Aunt Yeung and found her smiling.

"That is why Whale Toes exists," she said then held out the now full glass bottle of green liquid. "Here, after the bandages come off, apply this ointment anytime the wound feels itchy."

I took the bottle. "Thank you."

"Alright, shoo then," she said, waving a hand. "And stay indoors. This fog may linger a while."

I quickly went to the door but as I passed through it, I paused and turned back.

"Aunt Yeung, what’ll happen if you don’t redo Bran’s seal?"

The woman didn’t move from the table or look up at me though I could tell she heard me. frёewebnoѵēl.com

A long moment passed until she finally spoke.

"He’ll die."

--

Bran watched as the world around him gradually faded into white and the air became thick with mist. He could taste the miasma but he wanted to sit here out on the roof just a little longer.

He was at his old spot, the place he’d always come to back when he’d first woken up three years of sleep. A lot of the Cloud Flame Manor had been renovated and there were radical fixes here and there but he was thankful that the roofs had, mostly, remained untouched.

How had he ended up here the first time? Bran couldn’t quite remember. He’d been feeling overwhelmed and everything Aunt Yeung had said just made it worse. In the end, he’d run and somehow ended up here, unable to get down. After dinner, Aunt Yeung had finally set aside her pride and gone looking for him, so everything had ended well, but that story, while it didn’t amount to much, worried something in Bran’s mind.

Was he running away again? And if he was, what would the consequences be?

A gust of wind swept up the side of the building and through Bran, leaving him shivering. The sun had long disappeared behind the mist, taking with it the warmth of the day. He should probably head indoors.

He didn’t move.

His mind was too heavy, too busy with worries and circular thoughts that refused to be headed off. No, that wasn’t quite right. They weren’t really ’thoughts’ in the plural, but more in the singular thought: Bran wanted to see Misha.

"How’d it go?"

Bran didn’t turn but waited until Misha had made his careful way to the edge of the roof before replying. "How’d what go?" He’d felt the dragon’s approach for a while and couldn’t help waiting for him.

"You had a health session thing with your aunt, right?" said Misha. He sat beside Bran and peered over the edge. Everything was white below them.

"Oh, right, yeah. It was... fine."

"What did she say?"

"She said..." Bran’s mind flicked back through the events of the last few hours and looped that last conversation with his aunt. What should he tell Misha? What could he tell him? Early on it had been easy answering the boy’s questions but now it was only getting harder... "She wants to redo the seal on the demon blade."

"Is that hard to do?"

"For someone else, yeah, but she’s not just anyone."

"So, you’ll do it?" Misha asked without skipping a beat. If Bran had been paying more attention he’d have noticed.

"No, I’m not going to," he replied instead.

"Why not?"

"I don’t need to. And it’s not like it’s guaranteed to succeed."

They both fell silent then, watching the misty sky grow darker and darker. It was around twilight and Bran thought he should probably shoo Misha off to eat dinner. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

"What happens if you don’t do it?" asked Misha.

Something caught in Bran’s throat. "...Nothing," he lied.

"That’s not what your aunt says."

There was a pregnant pause as Bran thought about what that meant. "How would you...?" He turned to look at Misha. "She told you, didn’t she?" What else had she told him?

"She said you’d die," said Misha. He turned to look back at Bran.

Bran bit his lip and looked away. "If you already knew, why ask?"

"I wanted to see if you’d tell me."

Bran couldn’t see Misha’s face but he could hear the sad smile in his voice. If Bran had been feeling bad before, he was feeling absolutely destitute now. "It’s not guaranteed to succeed," he said. "I might still just die."

"But there’s a chance it’ll work, right?"

Bran didn’t reply. Some people might have been annoyed at someone poking into their life like this, and Bran was normally one of those people, yet he found himself feeling warm instead. Someone really wanted him to live. How long had it been since he’d felt that? It wasn’t quite fair to his aunt or his other acquaintances to think this, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t feel about them the same way he felt about Misha.

"You don’t think I’ll wait for you, that’s the problem," said Misha.

"What?" For once Bran was confused. He looked to Misha but the sky had darkened enough that it was hard to make out his expression.

"That’s what you said earlier," Misha explained. "You said I wouldn’t wait for you, that’s why you won’t redo the seal. I... overheard earlier. I didn’t mean to, but-"

Bran understood. "That’s not what I said."

"You said-"

"No, I mean, that’s not what I meant when I said that." Bran turned to fully face Misha and took his hand to make him look at him. He did. "I didn’t mean that I thought you wouldn’t wait," he said. "I meant... I don’t want to force you to make that choice."

Misha’s eyes widened as the hurt faded then reddened as he realised that it changed nothing.

"Even if I’d choose you?" he asked.

"Misha..."

"I love you. I do. And... and I think you like me too. I’ll wait for you."

Misha’s earnest words clawed at Bran’s heart and tears welled up in his eyes too. He roughly rubbed them away. "Listen to me Misha. You probably don’t know this, but dragons are a very long lived species, a lot longer than humans. They’re also loyal, fiercely loyal, and I know you’re like that too. But that’s also why I don’t want you to... dedicate yourself to me. I’m not just a normal human with a normal human lifespan. I’m a short lived one. I was lucky to survive the initial sundering of my soul. After that, no one expected me to live another year, let alone wake up. In the end, I lived another ten years. That’s already a lot better than anyone could expect, more than I’d hoped. But my luck is going to run out at some point."

"It may not run out right now," said Misha.

"No, it may not. But it will some day and I don’t want you to go through losing me. You’ve tasted loss before, but believe me when I say that it only gets worse from here."

"Bran..."

It hurt Bran to see Misha so sad and he wished he could stop and reverse this whole situation, say that they could be together, that nothing else in life matters other than love, but... he couldn’t.

Because that wasn’t reality.

In reality, some things are just not fated to be.

Misha leaned against Bran, put his head on his shoulder and shut his eyes. "I love you," he repeated quietly.

"I know," replied Bran.

A moment passed.

"I love you too."

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