The heavy silence continued for some considerable time afterward, stretching between us like an invisible curtain. It seemed like Aiona was gathering her scattered thoughts, carefully collecting memories she had deliberately left buried so long ago in the depths of the past. Now she was bringing them back to the surface of her consciousness, examining them after centuries of avoidance. The process felt like watching someone dig painstakingly for something that had been buried for countless years, each shovelful of metaphorical earth revealing fragments of a story long forgotten by everyone except the one who had lived it.
Finally, after letting out a long, world-weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand years, she gracefully lowered herself to sit at the very edge of the cliff. Her movements were elegant and deliberate as she patted the ground beside her, silently extending an invitation for me to join her in this precarious perch. I accepted without hesitation and carefully sat down next to her, positioning myself so that my legs dangled freely above the dizzying, dangerous drop below us. Our hair was immediately caught and swept backward by the gentle yet persistent wind that always seemed to blow across this clifftop, the strands streaming behind us like dark banners.
"My mother was one of the few truly lucky dragons who actually found their destined mate during their lifetime," Aiona began, her voice soft and tinged with an emotion I couldn't quite identify. "Dragons can live for thousands of years, and most never encounter the one soul in all the world that resonates with theirs. But fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately, depending on how you choose to view it—she met him at the very end of her natural lifespan, just a few short decades before her approaching death."
She paused for a moment, collecting herself before continuing. "My mother was born in the western world, far from here, on a remote island dominated by numerous active volcanoes. The land there breathed fire and smoke, always restless, always changing. Like most dragons do when they reach maturity, she flew around the entire world searching for her mate, crossing oceans and continents, visiting every land where dragons were known to dwell. But despite her extensive travels and centuries of searching, she couldn't find him during the better half of her long years. The search consumed much of her life, but yielded nothing."
Aiona's gaze grew distant, as if she could see across the centuries to witness these events herself. "When her horns finally began to fall—the clear, undeniable sign announcing an ancient dragon's upcoming death—she made a difficult decision. She decided to settle down in one place, somewhere peaceful and beautiful, and simply wait for her death to come naturally. She was giving up on finding her mate after so many centuries of fruitless searching. The disappointment must have been crushing, but she accepted it with grace."
"She came to what would become the Heinnas Kingdom, though it was much smaller then, choosing this land as her final resting ground. The climate was temperate, the people were kind, and there was something about the place that spoke to her weary soul. And that's when, after all those centuries of searching across the entire world, she finally met him right here. My father—her true fated mate, the one she had been seeking all her life."
She let out another sigh, this one carrying notes of both joy and sorrow intertwined. "My father came from the nobility of the Heinnas Kingdom, though his family was not among the highest ranks. He was a scholar by training and by temperament, someone who valued knowledge and understanding above wealth or power. He was also a passionate traveler, always eager to explore new places and learn new things. But when my mother first encountered him in her chosen sanctuary, recognizing him instantly as her mate through the bond that called to her very soul, she made a conscious choice to refuse to give in to her deepest instincts. She deliberately chose not to pursue him romantically, no matter how strongly the bond pulled at her."
"She had convinced herself there was simply no use in it," Aiona continued, her voice heavy with the tragedy of it. "At her advanced age, after her horns had already begun to fall, she believed that making a hatchling—conceiving a child—seemed utterly impossible. Dragon fertility declines sharply in old age, and she was well past what anyone would consider childbearing years for her species. So she made the painful decision to ignore the curious human man who had captured her attention so completely, even as everything in her nature screamed at her to go to him."
A small, sad smile played across Aiona's lips. "But my father was not so easily deterred or dismissed. He started deliberately wandering around wherever she was, placing himself in her path, finding excuses to be near her. He was genuinely curious about her, fascinated by everything about her—her knowledge, her stories, her very existence. And eventually, inevitably, he fell deeply in love with her, not because of any magical bond he couldn't feel, but simply because of who she was."
"Dragons age and deteriorate only in their true dragon form, not in their magically conjured human versions," she explained. "The human form is created and sustained by magic, and magic doesn't age. So in her human appearance, my mother looked young and vital, showing no signs of her true advanced age. But that doesn't mean she could conceive—the physical appearance of youth doesn't restore actual biological fertility that's been lost to time."
Aiona's expression softened with remembered affection. "But after my father's absolutely relentless romantic pursuit, which lasted for years and involved grand gestures and quiet persistence in equal measure, she finally gave in to the possibility of happiness. She agreed to marry him, to spend whatever time she had left by his side. But she was completely convinced, right up until it happened, that she could never conceive a child. It was considered medically impossible for a dragon of her age."
"And yet," she continued, wonder creeping into her voice even after all these centuries, "after a full decade of marriage, long after they had both accepted that they would have no children, I was somehow conceived against all odds and expectations. She carried me to term and gave birth to me, a miracle that no one had thought possible. The healers and wise dragons who examined her called it unprecedented."
She fell silent for a long moment, lost in memories of parents she had barely known. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with suppressed emotion. "But my mother knew, even during her pregnancy, that she didn't have much time left in this world. Her body was failing, her magic waning. That's why she felt such urgency about leaving her accumulated knowledge for me, all the wisdom she had gathered over her long life. She knew she wouldn't be there to teach me herself the way her own parents had taught her. She wouldn't be able to guide me through my transformation into dragonhood, wouldn't be there to answer my questions or help me navigate the complexities of being both dragon and part human."
"That's why my father undertook the enormous task of writing all of this down on her behalf," Aiona said, gesturing toward where I had left the ancient tome. "He spent years carefully recording everything she told him, preserving her knowledge, her stories, her teachings. It became their memoir together, a chronicle of their brief but intensely meaningful time as a family. It was the last thing they could give me to remember that they had existed, that they had loved me, that I had been wanted and cherished even if only for a tragically short time."
Her voice grew quieter, more fragile. "My mother passed away when I was only ten years old, barely more than a child. I could barely remember her clearly after so many centuries, what she actually looked like, the sound of her voice, the warmth of her embrace. The memories faded despite my best efforts to hold onto them. Then, after I finally grew into a full adult dragon at age sixteen—the age when dragons reach their maturity and full powers—my father passed away too, following her into death as if he couldn't bear to be separated from her any longer than necessary."
"He left me that book," she said, her voice barely above a whisper now. "My inheritance. Their final gift to their daughter. Everything they were, everything they knew, everything they wanted me to understand about the world and about myself—it's all preserved in those pages."
A profound silence settled between us again like a heavy blanket. I sat quietly, letting her words sink deep into my understanding, feeling the weight of the tragedy and love intertwined in her story. She had been genuinely, deeply loved by both of her parents. Even though cruel time and mortality hadn't allowed them to linger in her life for very long, even though she had been essentially orphaned by age sixteen, that love had been real and powerful and formative.
"My mother was an exceptionally gentle dragon," Aiona continued after a while, her tone shifting slightly. "She never killed anyone in all her long life—not humans, not other dragons, not any other creatures. She deliberately avoided fights and battles, choosing peace whenever possible. She loved the idea of a peaceful world where different beings could coexist harmoniously. So much of what you'll find preserved inside that precious tome is focused on defensive magic spells rather than offensive ones, protective wards rather than weapons. There are also many everyday practical magic spells for making life easier and more comfortable, and extensive general knowledge from her era about history, culture, and the natural world."
"I'll cherish it," I said to her with complete sincerity, my voice firm with the promise. I meant every word with my whole heart. This wasn't just a book—it was a legacy, a bridge across time connecting a daughter to parents long dead.
Her gaze slowly met mine, and in her ancient eyes I could see gratitude mixed with relief. "I'm sure you will," she mumbled softly, and I could hear that she truly believed it.
---
After we had spent some additional time sitting together in companionable silence, simply existing side by side at the cliff's edge and watching the waves roll endlessly against the distant shore, she finally broke the quiet again.
"Want to tour around the new additions to my domain?" she asked, a hint of her earlier playfulness returning to her voice. "I could show you the forest up close, and the ocean properly."
"Sure," I answered readily, standing and carefully placing the irreplaceable book securely on top of a stable flat rock where it would be safe from the wind.
"Then jump off the cliff," she said suddenly, gesturing casually toward the dizzying drop before us as if she were suggesting something completely ordinary.
I looked at the edge, at the vast empty space beyond it, then back at her. "Alright," I answered simply, and without further hesitation, I jumped off into the void.
For several heart-stopping seconds I was in complete free fall, the wind rushing past my face and body, the ground far below approaching with terrible inevitability. Then Aiona's magnificent dragon form suddenly materialized directly beneath me, solid and real, catching me on her broad scaled back. Her powerful wings spread wide and she surged upward, climbing rapidly into the sky.
"Why did you jump like that?" she asked me, and her mental voice sounded genuinely shaken, almost panicked. "Without even questioning it or hesitating for a second?"
I looked down at her enormous form beneath me, at the powerful muscles moving under scales that gleamed in the perpetual sunlight of this inner world. "Because you told me to?" I answered, genuinely confused by the question. "Why would I not?"
"I was joking," she said after a few seconds of stunned silence. "That was meant to be a joke. I didn't actually expect you to just... leap off a cliff without question."
"Oh, you were joking," I repeated her words, processing this new information. So I had just jumped to what could have been my death based on what she now claimed was a joke? That probably should have concerned me more than it did.
"But I trust you, Aiona," I said simply, speaking a truth that I felt deeply in my core. "I trust that you would catch me before I fell to my death. I trust you completely with my life, without reservation or doubt."
She didn't respond to that declaration immediately, seeming unable to find adequate words. Instead, she simply flew in silence, carrying me over the newly added lush green forest that sprawled below us. The trees were thick and healthy, their canopy creating a sea of green that swayed in the wind. We soared toward the ocean, and I marveled at the way the sunlight glinted off the waves, creating a constantly shifting pattern of light and shadow.
After we landed gently on the pristine beach, my feet sinking slightly into soft sand, I immediately ran with childlike excitement toward the crashing waves. I quickly kicked off my shoes, abandoning them without care, and let the cool water engulf my bare feet as the waves rolled in and then retreated. It was an entirely novel sensation, something I had never genuinely thought I would experience—the ocean, real and tangible and alive around my ankles. The water was cooler than I expected, and the sand beneath my feet shifted with each wave, creating a pleasant instability.
"I'll protect you with my life too," Aiona finally responded to my earlier declaration, her voice carrying across the beach with quiet intensity. It was a vow, a promise as binding as any oath.
"But for the full story about how I became known throughout history as Aiona the Destroyer of Kingdoms," she added after a pause, her tone becoming more serious, "you will have to wait a bit longer. I'm not quite ready yet to revisit those particular memories. They're... difficult."
"Could you wait for me?" she asked, and I could hear a vulnerability in the question, as if she feared I might refuse, might demand answers immediately rather than granting her the time she needed.
I turned to look back at her dragon form resting on the sand, and I nodded with complete understanding and agreement. "Take all the time you need," I said gently. "I'll be here when you're ready to tell me. I'm not going anywhere."
The relief in her expression was palpable, and I returned my attention to the waves, letting the ocean wash over my feet again and again, patient and willing to wait for as long as necessary.