Image: Pixabay

He wakens, sends forth visions of disquiet. No words are offered, only cobweb shrouded dreams.

Ancient battles rage, move through forests of memories.  They sear like a brand, Subdue with righteous anger. Punished are we children of the twilight, creatures forged in hunger and envy. 

Enchanter is he. Dragon, forged in fire, weaver of life. Seer and bringer of a Death unremitting. Guardian of treasures none but the illumined can see. That is, only through the gates of Void and Silence.

What is He? The words written on this scroll only serve to deepen the disquiet I’m feeling. I know very well what He is but hoped it would not be so. Creatures like him glide silently through the corridors of our dreams; bringing confused thoughts and unawakened desires. He tests us, touches the veils of awareness. Legends unfurl like the petals of night blooming Hellebore. I see his history and it is not a happy one.

He commands the twilight, a tear in time and space. Soft, soft are its edges, belying the cold grasp of his hand. Jagged, jagged are his claws, even sharper is his kiss. I hunt him, father of all not of this realm. Father of all not of being but of something else. His touch drugs, ensnaring and his voice lulls into receptiveness.

Desire is a double-edged knife, gleaming bright and cutting swiftly. Then your ruby red blood glides over skin, an offering to his feral yearning. His kind are weavers of illusion, reaching into the depths of your soul and plucking out all that is hidden and fevered. Promising ecstasy and fulfilment. Until it is too late to withdraw. Once tasted, you are lost.

My wings quiver at his approach, I too am a master of illusion and trickery. A hunter must adapt, blend in. My brethren and I are neither male nor female but something other. We stand between the Light and Dark, but not of either. We rescue the lost and banish the damned. We are both Sun and Moon. We are Judge and Executioner.

He circles, breathes in my scent. Come a little closer stealer of souls. Come to meet your doom. Let him taste what is to be his ending. A hand reaches out and caresses, lest he suspects, I feign thrill and weakness. The dance continues, taunting and tempting. Once more he approaches, gaze fevered and dark with velvet clad demand.

‘Taste’ I urge him. Does he succumb? Then, sharp, sharp kisses rain upon my throat. Drink deep of dragon’s venom stealer of souls, for that is all you shall have. I am neither male nor female but something other. I stand between the Light and Dark, but not of either. I rescue the lost and banish the damned. I am both Sun and Moon. I am Judge and Executioner.


3 comments on “Disquiet

Comments are closed.