A Crown of Gold

Beyond

"Is this a joke?" I asked, eyes narrowed.

"Nope." My father stated, "Today, you and I go out Beyond together."

I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, unconvinced. There was absolutely no way my father would invite me out into the Beyond after what had happened yesterday.

"What's the catch?" I inquired.

"No catch, Asha. You said you wanted to see it, I'm going to show you." He explained, "At least you'll be with me, and maybe it'll even keep you out of there."

"If you're going to try and scare me, just know now it's not going to work." I told him, rising from my chair.

He threw up his hands, baring his palms in surrender. "No tricks, no catch, nothing."

My eyes became slits for a moment more as I eyed him, giving in after a few seconds. "Alright," I shrugged, "Out we go then."

My father smiled down at me, placing a calloused hand on my cheek. His eyes flashed in remembrance as he turned away from me, digging through his bag placed on the table. He pulled an object almost a foot long and wrapped in brown cloth from the satchel.

His fingers massaged it as he turned it over in his hands before handing it to me. I watched his face before gently taking it from his grip. I held the object flat in my left hand and untied the bindings around the cloth with the other, allowing the edges to fold away from the object it was covering.

A dagger rested in my palm; the handle a gleaming gold while the blade shone in a dark silver. It was beautiful, and balanced to perfection.

I looked back to my father, who's smile seemed bittersweet. "Why are you giving this to me?" I asked. Such a beautiful weapon didn't belong in my hands, my father of all people would certainly agree to that.

He shrugged a bit, "I thought you needed a weapon if we were going out there." His next words were hesitated, his forehead creasing as he decided whether or not to say them. "And it was your mother's."

It was strange, my father talking about my mother. He never described her to me or spoke about what she was like. Now, here we both were; me holding her belonging and father willingly giving it to me.

I stared at the weapon, unable to form a question or anything proper to say. "You have her hair." My father spoke for me.

I looked up at him, curiosity swimming in my crimson eyes.

He nodded with a sigh, "She had a mane of golden curls just like yours. She'd tie them up in a lump on the top of her head with twine."

I parted my lips, smiling a bit at the picture he was finally painting for me. I resemble her, I thought, I must. My mind returned to his comment of her tying up her hair, using twine. Perhaps that was why Nan preferred it to other materials when jewelry making. Maybe it made her feel close to my mother.

I was filled with a feeling I was unfamiliar with. I was excited, yet nervous and hesitant. "Wh- what was she like? Was she funny?" I blurted.

My father inhaled deeply, looking to the ceiling as he thought. "Occasionally," he answered, "she was kind and quiet, but had a temper unmatched by any other."

I smiled. For the first time in years, I felt as though I fit in somewhere. Even though she was dead, I felt less like an outsider; like I belonged.

My father gained a devilish smirk, "You know where those eyes came from, girl? You weren't born to please a dragon, you were born of a dragon."