siat-s

“𝓢on, what’s done is done; we must only worry about the present.” ❦ 𝓗is father had told him that, many years ago–or so he believed. He believed he heard those wise words coming from his mouth, but the voice wasn’t right. Perhaps it hadn’t been his father who had said it. Perhaps he had, in his dreams of the andesite castle and all her storms. But to whom had he said it? And why? After a while, the truth and the dreams muddled and rushed together like a river swollen by spring rains. ❦ 𝓘t didn’t matter who had said it; he listened either way. ❦ 𝓡avenswood Peak loomed in the distance, her towering rock cliffs a brilliant red orange in the morning halflight. Unrivaled, she was surrounded on either side by rugged foothills and dramatic canyons. They were treacherous, but he and his brethren knew the secret, safe ways up her slope. It would take a while to reach her slopes–at the very least, the remainder of the day–despite their steady and determined pace. ❦ 𝓦hen they reached her summit

𝓢ometimes, he dreamed. And in those dreams, he lived another life. ❦ 𝓘n his dreams, the desert gave way to a rainy paradise, with sheer volcanic cliffs and lush, vibrantly green forests. Their faces materialized out of dream-fog; their lovesick eyes were alive and eerie and plagued him even while waking. Hers were the most wicked of all: warmth and understanding in them for a man who did not deserve it. He had vowed to keep them safe, he and his snake-brother a duo none on the islands could hope to rival. ❦ 𝓗e dreamt of the giant black dragon he had taken the stormy island from, and knew he had fought on those treacherous cliffs more than once if the phantom aches and pains were to be believed. The physical pain disappeared as he woke, but the ache in his chest, that pin-prick feeling that he had lived and loved in another life somewhere else long ago, never vanished. ❦ 𝓗e dreamt of soaring the summer skies as a god. The winds were his to command, feathered and