The Soul of a Dragon

Chapter 58

An unknown day in the future

Liv

Have I ever pondered the concept of dying?

There have been moments in my life when I could have almost kissed Death's feet - too many, I'm afraid. Surprisingly, not once was I gripped by fear. I realised long ago that death doesn't scare me. In fact, when the inevitable moment arrives, I'll welcome it with open arms. Why? Because despite my youth, I have lived a rich life filled with love, friendship, fun, but also pain and misery - a true cocktail of life, one could say.

Now, back to contemplating mortality. I should undoubtedly be doing that right now. What else should I possibly be doing when there's a horrifying abyss in the shape of a dragon pinning me to the ground, its razor-sharp teeth mere inhes from my neck. It's Death incarnate, a living entity in its own right, yet all my mind can think about is the absence of smell. The lack of anything, for that matter. There's no foul breath, not even that distinct odor of a dragon (reptile, mud, fish, and poo all blended together). While I can very much feel its talons piercing my skin through my vest and see it towering above me, pulling in all the light, I strangely don't fully feel its presence. It's as if it not only absorbs light but also my senses. It's...disturbing. Unnatural. Fascinating.

Amidst the beast's bloodsoaked gaze, holding me in stillness, I find myself oddly relaxing against my instincts. I attempt to scrutinise its features, make out anything, but fail in the darkness; it's nothing but a black hole. In a fleeting moment, the creature mirrors my curiosity, tilting its head. But our moment is abruptly interrupted by men shouting my name. I can see the red slits of its eyes narrowing in thought, a growl as dark as the night emanating from behind its fangs. Before my mind can grasp what is happening, the pain of its knife-sharp talons vanishes, and a strange void settles above my skin as I gaze into the evening sky.

It's gone.

Present day

Vara

Malcom freezes, his hand falling from mine like it got burned. Hiccup's eyes narrow in confusion, staring at my hand, then flickering between us. The air becomes thick with tension, and I swallow hard, feeling caught in a tangled web of emotions. There is no denying my unsurmountable affection for Hiccup, yet I also seem to care about Malcom - and knowing that both men don't necessarily like each other, I am kind of stuck in the middle.

Hiccup clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Uh, am I interrupting something here?" he asks, eyeing us with a mix of curiosity and concern. A muscle in his jaw twitches once. Twice.

I quickly withdraw my hand, trying to hold eye contact with Hiccup but he avoids it at all costs. "No, Hiccup, it's not what it looks like." I hate that I have to use that cliché sentence because this is really not what it appears to be to him.

Malcom looks at me and I flinch at the disappointment evident in his eyes.. "Right. It's not what it looks like," he mutters under his breath, pushing himself up from the bed and stumbling towards the door.

Hiccup steps aside, letting Malcom pass. As he leaves, he shoots me a look that's a mix of hurt and resignation. I feel a lump forming in my throat and my blood rushes through my body. I need to apologise to Malcom and openly discuss my feelings with him. More importantly, though, I need explain everything to Hiccup right now and make him see the reality before he'll jump to conclusions. Though, judging by his expression, he may have already done that.

"Hiccup," I start, but he raises his hand to stop me.

"No need to explain, Vara," he says with a forced smile. "I get it. Everyone has their history. People have complicated feelings. Just...," He clears his throat and there's an audible break in his voice, „Tell me these things, okay? I put myself bare. I let you in. This," he gestures to both of us, „cannot work unless we're honest with each other and we trust each other. Communicate, please."