Flight For Peace - On Hold

Chapter 8

 Guilt is what keeps my search for a new flight going. It is not because I want others to tell me that it is okay. It is not because I feel like I deserve a new home. No, it is because I deserve the pain of the search. I deserve the ache in my stomach and I deserve the soreness in my limbs and I deserve the tiredness in my eyes. I deserve it. I deserve all of the pain.

On top of all the guilt that has built up inside of me, I am full of grief. Altair was dead. My mentor was dead. The one dragon that seemed to understand me fully was dead. I hadn't realized until I was safely aware from the flight. My memory was fuzzy but I am sure that he was not at camp. He would have stood up for me otherwise. I know he would. At least, I hope he would have.

Another flock of birds flies by me. But this time, a wave of resentments rushes through me. They are free. They don't have to worry about a war. They have not had to kill anything but prey. They are innocent souls that are still connected to the earth.

Death. So much in so little time. Murder. I am a murderer. The vision of blood flashes across my mind and the sound of their dying cries fill my ears. My unhealed wounds sting and I remember the feel of claws and teeth. They felt that too.

There is a constant ache in my soul. I do not know if it is from the regret or the solitude or a mixture of the two. All I know is that I feel empty and lost.

What is the joy in a life without innocence? What is the meaning of living with regrets? Thoughts rage in my mind as a heaviness weighs down my chest. Do I deserve to live this life? No. But can I take another life?

A sigh rattles my chest and I clear my mind. I can't think now. I must fly. I must find a new flight that won't fight, that stays out of the war. Even if I don't deserve it.

And then, I realize how lucky I am. In the distance I see a group of dragons flying together, their wings flapping in unison. My soul pulls me toward the trio of beasts. I am unnoticed until I am in attacking range. The leader--at least, I think it's the leader--turns to me and snaps, "Who are you?"

I rasp, "Eir."

Their eyes sweep over my torn and battered body. The leader's brown eyes narrow in contempt as he growls, "Leave now."

My soul cries out as I respond, "That's it? Just 'leave now?' You aren't even going to see what I am like or see if I would make a valuable member in your flight?"

The dragon, who is twice my size, snaps, "We don't accept the banished into our flight. We are at a time of war and traitors are detrimental."

My blood runs cold at the mention of war. Flashbacks flash across my mind as I feebly reply, "War is for those who are blind to the beauty of life. Why must you partake in such a futile act? Do you actually find joy in disconnecting your soul from the earth? From taking away innocent lives for power?" And I can't help but laugh, "That's utterly pathetic."

The three dragons were stunned by my response and I took that as my opportunity to leave. If I stayed any longer there's no reason to say they wouldn't attack me. But one question remains: how did they know I was banished? Was it just my wounds or was it something else?

---

There are two flights in the distance. At first, I think it is just an abnormally large flight. One that I had a chance at being accepted into. But all too soon I realize how naive that thought was.

Cries of rage and pain echo through the endless sky. As I get closer, I see dragons pummelling each other. It is ruthless.

And then I'm back at my old flight. I'm fighting the same dragon, the smallest of the two enemies. My fangs slice through his chest easily, tearing out scales and chunks of flesh. His blood rushes into my mouth and his cries of pain ring in my ears. He was dead. His lifeless eyes stare into my own and then he is replaced by Indra. Her fiery red scales are stained in dry blood. My jaws lock onto her neck and her skin bubbles and boils. Some of her scales screech as my teeth scrape against them. And she too oozes blood. And just like the first, her green eyes glaze over with a lifeless peace. And she is dead too.

I'm snapped back to reality as cries of grief ring in the air. Thumps of bodies hitting the ground resonate within me and tears well up in my eyes.

I can't join either of these flights. They too are lost within the war. They too are ignoring the way their soul cries out in pain as they kill. They are heartless. A feeble growl rumbles in my chest. And with a heavy heart, I avoid the deadly battle.

My eyes droop and my stomach roars. I'm in the same state as I was when I first found my flight. No. When I first found the flight. I can never call that my own again.

The sun sets and as stars sparkle in the night sky, my mind travels back to the war. To the murders I have committed. And I know that there is no possible way that I could ever be accepted into a flight. It seems as if every dragon is tainted by the war. Their connections to the earth ruined because a dragon decided he was bored of peace.

Stone. The name brings a sour taste to my mouth. How could he decide that he needed more? That he needed to be in control, that he needed to steal from others? What could have possibly corrupted his soul?

My eyes droop and sleep calls to me. But I am miles above land and I have yet to found a flight. On top of that, I deserve this. I really do.

It feels as though my wings will fall off soon and that my stomach will turn in on itself. It is as if my body will fall from the sky like a leaf from a tree. No matter how much I tell myself I can't stop, I know that I soon will. Because my body will give in.

I'm in a daze, so much so that I almost don't realize that there is a dragon in the distance. The dragon is just a mere smear of gray. But as I get closer, I realize that the dragon is real. His features become more and more defined as I approach him.

He seems to have noticed me before I realized he was actually there. His eyes, a vivid orange, were locked onto my own. I shiver at the intensity of his gaze. But I continue to fly toward him. Maybe he will put me out of my misery, maybe he will do what I cannot.

And when we are in talking distance, I almost flee. Anxiety has crawled up my spine and I can feel the familiar cold tingle that comes before the ice. Words seem to be caught in my throat. The dragon before me is large, clearly much older than I. His body is broad and he has a single scar traveling across his side. His orange eyes seem to sparkle and his teeth shine against his dark scales.

"Hello," the dragon speaks, "My name is Marlyn."

And at with those words, I involuntarily answer, "And mine is Eir."