The Name of Names

ℕ𝕀ℕ𝔼

Fenrir let out a puff of smoke, enveloping both Ismira and her book. The dragon had spoken only one other time to her since he had hatched, and that was to speak his name. The dragon hatchling had been silent ever since, content to watch her.

A slight knock on the door made Ismira set the book she was reading aside. "Enter."

"Dinner's ready," Her mother said softly as she pushed the door open. Her gaze strayed to the stacks of books on Ismira's nightstand and grew strained.

Dinner was quiet, as usual. Ismira didn't mind it, but she also didn't miss the strain on both of her parents as they watched each other and her. They were concerned, she knew, but nothing had changed. They had always been concerned with magic being involved. And now with a dragon, magic had been pieced inside of herself even stronger than before.

The dragon hadn't grown noticeably since he had hatched, and he sat on top of Ismira's foot, not letting out a sound.

As soon as she finished eating, she stood, careful not to startle Fenrir. He moved off of her foot, following her to the sink as she set her dishes down.

"Ismira," Her father began, but she was already out of the house. New magic was burning for her to use, and she couldn't use it here. Not with her parents so close or protective. It also meant that should anything go wrong, she was alone. Then again, she had Fenrir. The shadow burned at her arm, and she ran a hand along it. It was a part of her too, in some strange way.

The Spine had been foreboding to most people, but Ismira had never shied away from it. Its trees promised shelter from the village. The grass beneath her feet was soft, and a careful breeze threaded it's way around her.

The dragon had climbed up her while she was walking, content to wrap itself around her arm and stay there as she practiced magic. Since her magic had been renewed, she'd summoned the shadow on her arm only once, but found it easier to summon than the first time.

The daylight ticked away as Ismira practiced magic until both the daylight and her energy were spent. Fenrir still clung to her arm as she sat underneath the trees. Her eyes drifted closed as she listened to the sounds of the forest. From the smallest mouse to the deer cracking a twig, she heard everything.

Without meaning to, she fell asleep, waking only when Fenrir nipped at her arm. Her eyes cracked open instantly, alert for danger.

When she realized there was nothing, she turned to look at Fenrir, who was simply staring at her. You need to eat. She suddenly realized.

Getting to her feet, Ismira stretched her mind out towards the animals in the forest. Selecting one, she followed it, silent as the trees around her. It was a mouse, and without a second thought, Ismira broke its neck. Fenrir crawled down her, eating the mouse quickly. After several more hunts, Fenrir climbed back up Ismira's arm. With her opposite arm, Ismira scratched his neck.

The trip back into Carvahall was harder than it had been going out. Her energy was low since using magic the previous night, and she arrived at Carvahall tired. The day was well past broken, and as she approached her house, she could see Katrina outside doing the laundry.

Turning both herself and Fenrir invisible, she slipped past her mother into the house, when she released the spell. Grabbing a piece of raw meat for Fenrir and bread for herself, Ismira went into her room, sitting on the bed.

Fenrir devoured the meat, while Ismira ate slowly from the bread. I have unfinished business, Fenrir. I need to leave Carvahall. She spoke to him often, although she never fully expected a response. Something in his eyes, though, seemed wiser than his appearance. His eyes challenged everything she said, forcing her to find the best option. She loved him for it.

She grabbed her cloak from where it hung, putting it around herself. The books she had stolen were put into her satchel, and held tightly. Rendering herself invisible again was no harder, and she went into the stables, mounting her horse.

Ismira left Carvahall, yet some piece of her still yearned to turn back around. And she hated it.