Page 51 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince
She becomes me as I become her. We become something more. I could lose myself here—I long to lose myself here. Committing my individuality to the void, I could be unleashed. In the clouds, I taste freedom, released from the constraints of my broken, barren body.
But a drum beats, calling me home.
I’m tempted to ignore it. To stay here, liberated.
To descend means becoming queen of a clan I hardly know. I will not be a perfect queen—I will make mistakes. Is it wrong to claim a power I don’t know how to wield? A power that will weigh me down when I feel so light. Becoming mortal again after experiencing divinity seems inadequate.
If I return, I will fail. Not always. But sometimes.
The drum beats again. The mortals chant for my return.
From high above, my divine eye sharpens, focusing not on my body, gilded by Wisp and sedated on her throne, but upon a dragon fae…
Drakon. Even from here, I remember his name.
His lip quivers, his gaze fixed. The way he looks upon my body… onme.
That’s love. An adoration I’ve barely begun to experience. From my first taste, I thirst for more. To share a mortal life, chapter by chapter, with someone who can see me as he does, showing him that he has more value than he knows.
I want that. More than I want this void.
The drum beats, the rhythm guiding my descent.
There will be mistakes when I become queen, but if I’m wise, my contributions will outweigh my flaws. As I forgive my past, I resolve to forgive my future.
I will become queen.
Resolution resounds within, and I touch upon an expansive web, connecting to the universe. It’s within me, above me, through me. I connect to every land, every being. Epiphany strikes, whispering the reason for everything in a language I cannot comprehend, before letting me go.
Heart beating in sync with a drum, I open my eyes.
Awakening
I’ve been unmade and remade, transforming and shifting countless times over my life, but no matter how many times I awaken, the work of becoming is never complete.
My eyes open, my gaze centered on Drakon, steadying on him as his lips part in a relieved sigh. Time stills as the moment of my return hovers between us.
I’m back. I’m alive.
His love guided my return.
Gasping for breath, I exercise my lungs, reclaiming my existence. I feel small—I feel powerful. It’s strange, having physical sensations again.
Through it all, my sense of Wisp remains, the land and the deity accessible to me, though not as deeply. She has become an intimate part of me, accessible in my mind as I’ve become her vassal, her mother.
Drakon rises cautiously, and though I want to keep my focus upon him, Wisp draws my attention beyond, to the clan supporting me. Kaliyah still beats the drum, summoning my return with the steady power of a heartbeat.
The vast clan looks up to me.Myclan.
With a prick to my fingers, I look down at my hands, still holding the Maledictum. Guided by Wisp, I grasp the next step that must be taken.
“By this token, I lift the curse.” I whisper it as I tug at the rose, pulling a single petal from the stem. When I toss it aside, the petal floats nearby. “By this token, I lift the curse.” I say it again, plucking the second petal. This one levitates too.
I do it, again and again, disarming the Maledictum as I surround myself with lava-red petals. With the pluck of each petal, I recall every step that brought me here.
My mother. My father. My former husband. My brother. I peel each layer away, letting them go. Barren. Cursed. I release my old identities.
I recall waking on Wisp’s black sands, the way the salt parched my skin, my body dry and wasted. How I had to be reshaped in order to rise—poisoned to witness the divisions of my clan. I’ve witnessed my funeral and risen the next morning, Drakon at my side.
