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2 Dreams are just dreams

Communia = the commoner kingdom ruled by King George Edward Windson 3rd

Berxly is a small town in Communia

Commoner = human-like supernaturals born without power – also called Normies

***POV – Zagon

I’ve had this exact dream since I was 7 … the one about the time I first turned … the one where I learned I was supernatural … a demon from hell … that my father was not my father … that someone wants me dead …

And the funny thing is that it’s exactly how it happened, exactly how I felt – EXCEPT for the ghosts … there was no girl, no woman, and no grave. I’ve done my homework on spiritual beings … and yes they do exist … but I haven’t found any clue as to why I’m dreaming about some blurry phantoms.

I close my eyes and drift back to sleep … and back to my dream …

“Okay, demon, “ Oberon holds up his hands, “just relax.”

I growl again, irritated by his remarks, not sure why everyone calls me a demon? Is it written on my forehead? Is it because I killed those vamps? He lowers his arms with a frown.

“You killed those vampires, didn’t you?” he asks deepening his frown.

I tense my muscles, ready for anything they can throw at me. And just in case, I give them a growl to let them know that I’m not going down without a fight.

“Guess we have to thank you for that,” Xavier smiles softly tilting his head to the side. Thank me? What is it with these two clowns? Is this what supernaturals are like?

“Hey, we’re not going to hurt you. I’m Oberon and that ugly wolf is Xavier. We’re just here for the girl?”

I cock my head to the side. Can I trust them? And what girl?

Then something grabs hold of my fur, and I swear some is ribbed from their pockets. I give another growl. The little girl ghost is back … a blurry vision sitting on my back. Could she be the girl they’re looking for? Well, they can have the little brat … before I go bald from all the hair she’s pulling out.

But never mind that, right now, I have an even more serious little situation – I don’t know how to get back to my normal body. I so wish I could speak, but yeh … apparently a dog’s mouth is not made for words.

“Can you shift back so you can tell us what happened here?” Oberon inquires. I shake my big head from side to side, but instead of helping a dog out, he frustratedly throws his hands in the air while mumbling to himself.

I whimper softly, thinking that there’s no reason to get uptight about it, I’m all new to this. Rather throw some of those blue sparks around and fix this situation.

Xavier gives a step forward, a very muddled look on his face.

“Is this your first shift?” he asks puzzled. This time I nod my head. Yep, you get it, big man.

“Okay, here’s what you do … “ and then I painfully manage to shift back into my boy body.

The sudden coldness against my bare body shocks me and goosebumps trickle over my skin. My feet feel wet and soggy, and it starts to tingle and pain. The two kings seem more shocked to see my normal form than they were to see my hound.

“Aint you a wee bit young to shift? I mean, you’re for sure not 16 yet,” Xavier recovers first. I don’t know how to answer him, I don’t even know what I am, needless to say at what age I was supposed to become a dog.

“I’m seven.”

Oberon snickers at his wolf friend, “I guess well-endowed parts are a K9 thing.” I glance down at my junk, that’s a little shriveled up from the cold, and then try uneasily to cover it with my hands.

The elf magically creates some clothes again, handing them over to me with a teasing smile. This magic stuff is dope and I wonder if he could make me a pizza … or any food for that matter cause I’m starving. But clothes are also good and I thankfully get dressed as quickly as possible, soaking in the welcome warmth it provides.

“Are you really a werewolf? And an elf? And those things were vampires? They just started attacking me for no reason … I didn’t mean to kill them. Did you do magic? Can you whiff up some pizza? Can I do magic? So what am I? And why did I turn into a dog?” I ask, needing to know, the depressive thoughts pushed back for now.

“Oh, boy, you truly are a mess,” Oberon says scratching his head. “Where do you come from?“

“My parents are commoners, and we stay in Berxly,” I answer his question politely. The two men frown and look at each other before Oberon speaks again.

“Eh, your dad … he’s a commoner?” He sounds a bit confused, but hey, welcome to the club cause I’m a lot confused right now. I nod my head.

“Yep, and he hates supernaturals.”

“What are you doing here all alone?”

“I’m being punished. My father always beats me and drops me off somewhere remote and then I have to find my way back. Luckily I heal quickly so it’s not so bad.”

“Eh, … punished … mmm … listen, demon,” Oberon starts but I interrupt him. Enough is enough!

“Stop calling me that! Why does everybody call me that?” I’m trying to make a statement without sounding too disrespectful.

Both men look shocked.

“Hmmm, son … you ARE a demon and that dog was your hellhound … “ Xavier says still sounding a little taken aback.

“I’m a demon … in the true physical sense of the way … not in the negative comparison sense. Okay, that clears things up a little bit.”

“Do you always use such big words?” Xavier asks with a lopsided grin and I can only look at him a little annoyed. What does he think … I’m stupid or something?

Well, I’m not. And I’m not gonna let anybody insult my intelligence. I stand up as tall as my seven-year-old body allows while glaring at them. The ghost girl hides behind me, her little arms awkwardly wrapped low around my hips in an almost abusive position.

“What’s your name?” Oberon asks this time.

“Zagon.” They look at me as if they’re expecting me to say more, but what more can I say … my father forbids me to use his surname.

“… just Zagon.”

Oberon opens his mouth to say something but an eery scream bursts through the sky, interrupting him. More screams follow and it’s as if it pours over me like a heavy blanket and I can’t seem to move. The girl painfully grips my inner thigh with her small hand, breaking the skin, and I’m just glad it’s not my balls. I look down at her hand. Never expected a ghost to have a grip like that. Thought they would just pass through things instead.

My head shoots up; two riders are almost silently approaching us through the clearing, the snow damping the horses’ hooves into muffled puffs. The mounted creatures’ long grey robes flap in the wind like flags of doom.

Stuck in the same spot, I can only watch them get closer and closer as if perplexed in a slow-motion movie. Small details become clearly highlighted and the firey snorts of the horses escape in icy clouds of fog. A horripilation of dread tingles down my spine, and it’s as if something is sucking all the happy energy from my soul … not that I’m happy or have a soul.

Their cries split through the sky again and I’m sure they can be heard straight through hell to the other side of the planet. I close my ears with my hands, trying fruitlessly to block the sound, but it’s not working and I think I just burst an eardrum.

“Darklings … fuck!” Xavier shouts.

I still stand solidly frozen, not even blinking. Darklings? I thought they were just made-up creatures from fairy tales, used to scare children when they're bad. Mom threatens us with them at least once a day. Turns out she was not joking after all. Wait till I tell Luan.

A bright blue light sparks through the night and shoots the first attacker straight from his horse. The alpha moves with lightning speed and before the thing even lands on the ground, his heart is ripped from his chest. Sticky dark blood oozes from the hole to dye the snow. Xavier drops the heart, his hand and arm coated with black blood. I’m way impressed … these two might be old, but boy can they fight.

Then the other rider storms towards me with stretched-out arms, lying low in the saddle, his face a skeleton with parts of decomposing muscles and skin still attached, his eyes hollow orbs of nothing.

“Zagon, MOVE!” The voice pulls my primitive instincts into action and I grab the ghost girl at the last moment to dive into the soft snow. The dirt-filled hooves fly over my head, missing it with mere inches, but one long nail scrapes across my cheek. A thin trickle of blood runs down my face and I dap it with the palm of my hand.

The rider pulls his horse around with force to face us again. I pull the girl protectively closer, foreseeing my next action, but not getting many ideas from my clouded mind.

“Just give me the boy!” The thing can actually speak.

“Over my dead body!” Oberon lifts his hands midway in the air, holding them stretched out before him. I feel a warm tingling sensation in my heart – nobody ever protected me before.

“As you wish, fairy,” the sarcastic darkling spurs his steed into a full gallop, the metallic surface of the sword in his boney hand giving off an eery shine. Why does he want me? Is he here because I murdered those vampires? Am I going to jail?

“I’m a fucking elf!” Some more blue light appears, coming from the elf’s hands. I’m mesmerized and confused all at the same time.

The skeleton man falls from his horse. His hands and feet are tied by ropes in an awkward position and he rolls to a halt mere meters from my feet, the panicking horse cantering into the forest. The darkling doesn’t smell much better than he looks.

“Phew, he stinks!” I shout pulling a face.

Oberon spits on the ground in disgust. He seems rather mad and I make a quick mental note that a mad elf is something to avoid.

“Just a reminder, never piss off an elf by calling it a fairy,” Xavier says, looking at the numb darkling, “Isn’t that right, Tinkerbell?”

He pats the elf on the back with a skew smile and Oberon swears softly. I’m not sure, but isn’t he doing exactly the same thing he’s warning me about? Cause, according to legend, Tinkerbell was a fairy that saved some boy called Peter from being eaten by the god Sobek. Truth or tale, who knows for sure, but the point being … she was a tiny fairy.

“Typical wolf, all brawn and no brains. Make yourself useful and pick up that thing. I need to know who sent him.”

“You do know that darklings are flawed so they can’t lie but they’ll also never reveal the truth, right?” Xavier asks but still picks up the living darkling and stack him into the most normal position possible.

“I know that stupid,” the elf snarls, seeming to have lost his patience along the way. I wonder if doing magic drains their energy, cause he looks really tired, almost sick.

“Who sent me? Eh … let me think,” the darkling has a clanky hollow voice as if he’s talking into an empty tin can.

“I actually didn’t get his name … but he’s no friend of yours,“ the skeleton says and it looks as if Oberon is going to pull out his hair.

“Fuck you,” the wolf swears … he does that a lot. Then he taps the darkling on his shoulder as if he truly wants to form a friendship, his voice warm and non-hostile, “Okay, buddy, I’ll be the good guy for now … why do you want this pup?” He sounds almost believable.

“His daddy’s pals want to adopt him,” I swear if a skeleton could sprout a smirk, this was it.

“You know my dad?” I’m so surprised that this foul reeking thing knows my fucked-up commoner father that I eagerly move my face closer, my nose almost touching his – if you can call it a nose that is.

“Yes, I know your sperm-donor very well, everybody does,” he whispers extremely soft.

“He’s a legend,“ he adds and winks one of those blacker than black eyeballs. I’m confused again, and I look at Oberon to help me out, to give me some kind of explanation.

“Zagon, son, demons can’t have commoner fathers. Demons can only come from demons, so what this thing is saying is that he knows your biological father. Your dad at home … yeh, he’s not your real father.”

I’m stunned. The asshole abusing me is not even my real dad? It feels as if part of me is lost; as if someone just ripped my non-existing soul in two. The ghost hooks her small arms tighter around me as if to tell me not to be sad. Strangely, it seems to be working somehow.

“Are you going to tell us a name?” Oberon asks, scrutinizing the darkling.

“A name? I can give you lots of names … but not the one you’re looking for. I can say this however, you trusted him once, fairy, and he ripped you apart.” I swear this creature has the strangest way of talking … or is it just me?

The elf seems even more agitated, a small vein is jumping full speed in his jaw and I can hear his heart rate increasing.

“I swear if someone just thinks the word ‘fairy’ again I’ll zap them!” He holds up his hand, pointing a finger at a grinning Xavier.

Then he starts walking in a circle, mumbling to himself in deep thought while making big gestures with his arms. “Some demon we know and trusted … must be powerful … a legend … could it be … fuck … no, it’s not possible! But a black hellhound, shifting early, the mark on his face … peculiar, very peculiar. And then the darklings … shit … the prophecy … but it can’t be, no … it’s not real, is it? Ug … it means they’re still alive and we need to hide her … but how? Where … ”

“Is he okay?” I softly ask Xavier.

“It’s an elf thing,” he pulls his eyes at me while making a circling motion with his index finger at his temple.

Oberon stops in his tracks and utters one word as a question, looking at the darkling again, “Nox?”

“I would applaud, but my hands are tied. I guess elves truly are clever … “ the darkling sounds impressed, then he turns his eyes to Xavier, “Brighter than dumb wolves anyway.”

Just one swift movement and the alpha is holding a still-beating heart in his hand. Oberon doesn’t even notice, already walking in a new circle.

“Yeh, but wolves are stronger and we have short tempers.” He drops the organ into the snow.

“Hey, you crazy old fool – we have to go,” Xavier then says out loud, stopping Oberon mid-rambling. The elf scrutinizes me, his blue eyes reflecting the power he can manifest, but I’m not scared. Not even death scares me anymore … sometimes I think it would be better than the life I have.

“Zagon … just Zagon,” Oberon lets out a deep sigh, then he takes a deep breath, “We’ll take the girl.”

A strange feeling, as if I’m sad and angry all at the same time, burns in my heart. But I am not sure why? I look around but the little spirit is gone.

“I’m sorry, demon,” the elf flicks his hand and mumbles a few words. A tormenting pain shoots through my brain and I grab my head between my hands and stare hatefully at Oberon. Feelings of betrayal fill my heart.

“I don’t think he’s gonna like you after this!” Xavier confesses.

“Good thing he won’t remember then.”

The cold west wind swirls around me, softly laughing, bewitching me into darkness, and Oberon’s voice is the last thing I hear.

“He’ll wake up soon enough.” My eyes flicker open and I stare at the ceiling in my room again.

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