The Child of Cataclysm

Chapter 10

Well people...the finale!  This is the conclusion to my novella!  I really do hope you enjoyed it.  I certainly enjoyed reading what everyone thought about it!  As I believe I have stated earlier, I will be posting a part shortly after this explaining the odds and ends and background stuff in the world, since I couldn't really do that in the story.

Anyways, begin the final chapter!

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When Skirin opened his eyes, he found himself in a strange place. He stood up and looked around. Beneath his talons was black granite that stretched away in a valley bordered on all sides by distant black mountains, broken by golden rivers of lava flowing leisurely through the land.

Many of the distant mountains were volcanoes, spewing liquid gold into the air, fiery flowers blooming above them. The ash covering the sky overhead was beautiful autumn colors of red, orange, and gold.

"Welcome, Skirin," a voice said, coming from everywhere at once.

Skirin spun in a tight circle, searching. "Who's there?" he called.

The stone in front of him cracked abruptly and he jumped back, startled. A single flame emerged from the cracked stone, twisting and turning in the air. The fire expanded, coiling in on itself, and morphed into the shape of a dragon. The flames solidified into a dragoness twice as big as Skirin and he sat back, staring in awe.

Gold outlined each of her black scales and her underbelly was a mottle of colors shifting between gold, orange, and scarlet. A line of fire ran from her head to the tip of her tail. Obsidian claws dug into the ground as she spread her wings. They were varying shades of red, like lava cooling. Four straight fiery gold horns crowned her head, and the irises of her eyes were of molten gold. An aura of warmth surrounded her.

She craned her neck down until her eyes were level with Skirin's. She smiled, her teeth gleaming white. Her tongue was a literal tongue of fire. "Do you know who I am?" she asked. Her voice carried power, authority, and it sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once.

"I-I-" Skirin gulped, shaking his head. The dragoness chuckled. "It is alright, young one. Your kind has not known me for a long time," she said, raising her head again.

"I am Dehra, the goddess of flame."

Skirin blinked, stunned. Dehra laughed at his reaction. "You have been through a lot, Skirin," she said, walking around him with perfect grace, her feet leaving behind blooming flowers of golden fire.

Skirin shook his head, clearing it. "I'm-I'm sorry...where am I? Am I..."

Dehra laughed again. "No, you are not dead young one. This is a dream," she said. "So...why are you here?" Skirin asked, following her as she circled him.

"I am here because you are one of a kind, Skirin," Dehra said. Her voice was soothing, like a mother's affection, or the warmth of a rock on a sunny day. Skirin felt like he could listen to her speak forever. "I...I am?" he asked.

Dehra nodded. She came to a stop and sat down in front of Skirin. "You are. Despite all of the suffering, all of the pain you have been through, you held your head high. You fought for your friends, and you fought for your father until the very end."

Skirin lowered his head, ashamed. "Is something wrong, young one?" Dehra asked gently. "It...but it wasn't enough. I couldn't save my father," Skirin whispered. Dehra hummed and swept her tail around, lifting Skirin's head with its tip. "You did save your father, Skirin. You saved him from a life of anguish. You saved him from having to watch as his own claws tore apart all that he loved. Yes, he is dead. But what is important is that you freed him."