The wind screamed around me as the world gave way. I was no longer falling, but floating. There was no fear, only stillness wrap around my soul as if time itself was unraveled.
The sky blended into shadows. The cliff vanished above me, as I was swallowed by shadows only a small light shine before my eyes. My arm no longer hurt and I could no longer taste the copper of blood.
I found myself sitting at the base of an apple tree. The leaves rustled softly overhead, their sound like lullabies whispered through breeze. It was warm and fragrant with home made apply crisp. The sun-warmed my face as I lean back against the bark, the blossoms fell like snow petals, memory I remember this.
And then I heard her. A child's giggle, soft and floating in the air. My Elena.
I stood, searching the shifting world around me. It shimmered like a mirage, everything edged in silver mist, fading and forming in slow waves. And there, I saw them, she was reclining against Sigmon, his was curled up like a great black dragon surrounded by mist and shadows. The black scales had faint silver glistening over him as he breath.
Her small fingers traced the edge of a book, her little voice reading aloud with that familiar wobble she always had when she tried to sound out the long words.
"Shhh," Sigmon said gently, through our bond. "I know I'm not supposed to let her see me like this." I smiled despite the ache in my chest. I walked closer, heart heavy with hope and fear.
"Is this real?" I asked, through the bond. "We're in Nitesh," he replied. "The Plane of Dreams." My heart dropped.
"Is she…?" I couldn't finish the sentence. The thought gripped me with claws of ice.
"No," he answered softly. "She's dreaming. That's all. We're in her dream."
Just then, Elena turned and spotted me. "G-ma!" she shouted, bright and beaming, racing toward me on legs still slightly too short for grace. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me like she always had. Like the world made sense when I was near.
I held her. Buried my face in her hair.
"How's my girl?" I asked. But she was gone, vanished like mist. My knees buckled and began to fall when I felt his arms around me. I gasped as Sigmon caught me. "Deanna..." the warmth of his voice huge my heart. I had missed hearing him. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I stood on the cliff beside our bench.
A soft breeze stirred beneath a star-lit sky. Wind whispered through silver grasses. There, just ahead... Sigmon stood there, his robes shifting in the breeze his hair rustle the grey glinted in the moon light against the black hair. He smiled with the side of his month slighting lifting. He again to walk toward me.
My Sigmon.
Not as I remembered him in his final years, but young. His eyes piercing the darkness. His wing unfurled, majestic the shadows rolled off them. "Deanna. It's time." He took my hands in his and wrapped his wings around us both and lowered me gently to the grass, holding me as I wept.
"You're not lost," he whispered. "We'll find a way out. To Vagalla."
We sat for what felt like hours or was it seconds. Time didn't matter here as I leaned my head against his shoulder. "How often does she come to the tree?"
He stood and offered me his hand. "Often," he said. "Though not always as a child." I stood, and we embraced.
"Have you been here… this whole time?" He didn't answer right away. He looked away, jaw clenched. I reached for his face and turned it gently toward mine. Tears slid down his cheeks. "Since I died."
His voice was quiet. "We dragons…" He took a moment then a deep breath, "we don't have a passing ritual..." He closed his eyes, "You're either here, or in Vagalla… or somewhere else."
I held him tighter. "At least we have each other." His lips pressed into my brow. "She'll be okay," he whispered, more softly now. "He'll watch over her. Our Somenaco. He's stronger than he knows."
I buried my face against his chest. The weight of centuries fell away. All of it faded in his arms. He leaned down, brushed the hair from my face with the backs of his fingers, then lowered his mouth to mine kissing me softly. Our lips parted slightly, tenderly. As if we had all the time in the world now.
Death was not the end for Sigmon nor I, we now had all the time in the world.