Chapter Text
Being the spirit of the gift of vision was certainly not a demanding job, usually a couple of weeks every hundred years. And so when she was dormant in a place outside spacetime, she often felt a pull. A pull towards the minds of dragons about to close their eyes for the last time. Opal had wandered through the minds of dying dragons for thousands of years, but nothing had felt more pressing, more insistent, than this particular pull.
Even though her enchantment didn’t specify any other jobs, she was glad to have something to break the monotony. She had lied to Snowfall, of course. Opal had no idea whether she had lived a happy, long life or a sad, short one after the making of the ring. She was merely a spirit, a shadow of the IceWing animus who had taught her young queen the necessary qualities of leadership.
Opal gently tugged on the thread, letting the mysterious force take her to the dragon in need.
She was almost seamlessly transported to the dragon’s mind, only slightly disoriented as she looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings.
This is weird. Usually they’re lost in the memories of their lives.
Opal looked from side to side, but the mindspace was empty: just a silhouette of a dragon staring into the encompassing grey.
Opal took a deep breath. You can do this. You’ve done this for millennia. She walked over to the dragon, talons echoing unsettlingly loudly on the grey floor.
The first thing she noticed was the dragon’s youth. Usually, the dying souls she met were old, perhaps with an age of a century or more. The second thing she noticed was the dragon’s… strangeness.
She was pretty, yes, but she was orange and green. Her eyes resembled a RainWing’s, so at first glance Opal assumed she was one. But as she drew closer, Opal saw the dragon’s wings. Green and leaf-shaped, stagnant in colour, unlike a RainWing’s shifting rainbows.
The dragon swung her head around sharply when she saw Opal.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “Why are you here? No, better question, how are you here?”
Opal offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “My name is Opal, I’m an IceWing animus. How I got here… it’s a lot to explain. I’m several thousand years old, though I may not look like it. I’m not a real dragon, though, I’m just an enchanted spirit.”
Opal didn’t know why she inadvertently revealed her biggest secret — something about this dragon just felt right.
“I’m not a real dragon, either,” the dragon said quietly. “I’ve died twice already, but here I am.” She waved her wings helplessly at the smoky-grey mindspace. “Worst life of a dragon, ever, and longest one, too. If this could even be called a life. More than five thousand years old, and five thousand years of great suffering it’s been.”
This dragon was… dead? But Opal had never before been pulled to a dragon that was already dead.
Opal offered her an uneasy smile. “Well, I’m here now, and hopefully we can turn your life right around, yeah? First, introductions. What’s your name?”
“My new name is Freedom,” the dragon replied hesitatingly.
Opal frowned. “New name?”
Freedom turned away, sighing. “Just leave me here alone. I’m not making the same mistake again.”
Opal bit her lip nervously, not knowing how to react. Freedom was obviously very different from all the other dragons she had interacted with. Opal just needed to get her out of her shell…
And then what? What did Opal truly want? To be friends? To find someone just like her?
Decision made, Opal stepped forward and wrapped her wings around the dragonet. “We can be alone together,” she suggested.
Freedom jumped away, snarling. “Don’t HUG me. I’m— that’s not— I’m a real dragon, not a hug-loving freak!”
Opal stared in dismay as Freedom backed away, not knowing what she had done wrong. Usually the dragons she met were all very warm and welcoming. She sat down, curling her wings around herself in reluctant resignation. Maybe she wouldn’t get anywhere here. Maybe she should just go back. Maybe she just wasn’t wanted. Opal stared at the floor, unshed tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.
And then she realised.
The floor.
The floor was pink.
A growl signalled Freedom’s discovery of her mindscape’s new aesthetic and the floor immediately changed back to the same, dull grey.
But Opal couldn’t help seeing traitorous flickers of pink and yellow burst in and out of existence on the seemingly boring floor.
She slowly began to smile.
Perhaps she wasn’t as unwanted as she thought.