Seeking Freedom (Working Title)

Chapter 4: Azari

"I need your soul."

I dream about that evening every time I fall asleep but struggle to remember anything about life before then. I can't even remember what Treenon offered me in exchange for this, but something in my blood tells me it was important and well worth it. All I know is that when Treenon asked for my soul, it was to use me as a guardian (as he had put it). Watching over all those Treenon had bargained for.

The girl has been quiet in her tower for days now, ever since the young man who tried to reach her was crushed under one single swish of my tail. I want to feel shame for being the reason all those innocent people have died but deep down I know I'm not to blame: Treenon is. If he was to be a normal and mortal man I could kill him without a second thought, but he isn't and I'm still learning how to live with that. I'd love to watch the life drain from those wretched eyes. I don't even know the full extent of why I must protect the girl locked away in the tower but Treenon has said many of times that I must fulfill my duties as protector and guardian before he'll lift the curse from me.

I can only hope he will stay true to his word. I unfold my wings and stretch out my claws before rearranging myself and settling back down. I guess there are positives to being a dragon. I don't have to talk to anyone, considering no one can speak to me. Except Treenon, he's the only person who can understand my grunts and flame induced growls. He's not particularly a good conversationalist but at least I'm not totally cut off from communication. I don't see him very often though; only whenever he decides to pay the young girl a visit with today being one of those days. I sat from afar and watched as he entered the grounds and made his way up towards to tower, with his briefcase in hand. He never goes anywhere without it. I've thought more times than I count about frying Treenon alive. The emptiness I feel everyday is caused because of what he did to me. Turning me into this monster. If I look like a beast, I may as well fulfill the entirety of the package and just act like one as well.

There's no one who's brave enough to take the time to see that deep down I don't want to be this way. I can hardly blame them. Who would assume that a dragon is any more than just a dragon? People either come here to try and rescue the girl or to kill me ... and then rescue the girl. I do, on occasion, (and by occasion, I mean every minute, of everyday) wish I knew what I'd been given in exchange for this life. I want to know if it was worth it. It's got to have been worth it. At least, I hope it was.

All I know about myself is: my name is Azari, I'm twenty years old and I'm kept as a prisoner. I was twenty years old. If we're adding the years I've been like this, then I'm twenty plus another three-hundred years at least.  I'm free to fly off whenever I wish, but Treenon has made himself quite clear that if I leave, I'll just have to stay in this form forever. I would rather live a short life as a mortal than for a thousand years as an overgrown lizard so I need to wait until Treenon says I've fulfilled my duties.

I've been this way for around three-hundred years and, let me tell you, it has gotten more and more boring by the day. The boredom is bearable most days but then there are the days were everything falls silent and all the echoes around the castle's ruined grounds are the out of tune songs from the girl in the tower. Clementine, I think her name is. On those days, I wish I had fingers, so that I could stuff the damn things into my ears to block out her god-awful singing. Obviously, all I have are claws and talons which I'd prefer not to embed deep into my ear canals. Maybe even if I did use my talons to plug up my ears, it'd cause me less pain. I wish I could let out a laugh but, here's another thing dragons can't do: laugh. I sincerely wish I could though because I'm hilarious and wish I could laugh along to my own jokes, seeing as nobody else can. Treenon doesn't have a good sense of humour, which is infuriating. The only person who can speak to me, finds my sense of humour insufferable. His loss, I guess.

I look over towards the general direction of the tower, to find Treenon storming towards me. Ugh. I am really not in the mood for one of his outbursts today. I want to show him my disinterest in being in his presence and I do it the only way I know how: I just lay there, looking unimpressed. Or at least I'm trying to look unimpressed, it's difficult to show facial expressions with lack of skin and a large amount of scales. I think he gets the picture though.
"Listen, and I'll make it quick, because  I know you're going to be a pain in the arse," he says as soon as he's within reaching distance of me. He literally reaches my knee in height. He looks stressed and flustered. Good. "I've been pestered for weeks by that stupid family of hers to give her that infernal dress she wore the day she was born. She's never asked a damn question about them a day in her life but the second I gave it to her, she went and asked abo-  just keep an eye on her, okay? I don't want her up to any funny business. I'm going back home to Tuwick and I'll drop in to let the old bags know I've given Clementine the rags that they claim to be a gift...". I let my mind wander. Treenon tends to never stop talking once he starts and after dealing with him for far too long, my wears thin far faster than it used to.

He clicks his finger right in front of one of my massive eyes to try and regain my attention and I turned my head slowly to face him again. He starts ranting about her parents, nothing new or unusual. He hates her parents for selling her off. Which makes little to no sense. His reasoning? He hates people who give away what isn't there's to sell. To Treenon, he believes that their daughter's freedom was not theirs to bargain. He will never deny a deal with anyone, but people have grown wise to him and what he takes from them to form a contracted bargain, so less and less deals have been made with him over the years ... unless someone is desperate. But there's always someone desperate enough. But if he hates it so much, why does he, one, offer them them bargain in the first place and, two, go ahead with it?

"I'll be back soon enough, Azari" His lips turn up into a smile wicked enough the chill even my blood. Treenon's feet turn to smoke, soon followed by his legs, torso and soon enough his whole body and briefcase has vanished into a cloud and is being carried off by the breeze. I must admit, he does travel in style. Once I'm sure he's gone I let out a small exhale. I turn my head and look toward the tower window. She's closed the curtains. I don't blame her for fearing me. I'd be repulsed by what I am too if I was her. I understand how she must feel though: being completely cut off from the world and having just Treenon as company. Our only listening ear is the person who imprisons us. The only difference is, she's trapped in a tower.

I don't remember much about what my life as a mortal consisted of but I know and remember what it feels like to be human. I miss the little things about being human (having thumbs is something I miss drastically – it'd be nice to grip things and pick them up). One thing that I despise about being in this form is the fire the burns up inside of me, not in the metaphorical sense, I mean the fire that I breath which causes the worst damn heartburn you could imagine. Sometimes I have complete control of when I utilise my ability of breathing fire but then there's sometimes, usually when my temper becomes too fiery (pun certainly intended) that no matter what I try to do, I can't control. Several trees have been at the brunt of that, some of which were reduced to nothing more than ash.

I look skyward and see a blackbird drifting down from the heaven sand settling itself down onto a branch on a nearby tree. I wish I had the freedom of that bird. To fly away whenever I wanted but Treenon wouldn't allow that. I may has well have no wings at all. I'm trapped even with my wings. Wings don't always amount to freedom. Sometimes, even the prettiest birds, with the largest wingspan, just can't seem to break free of their cages.