It was the end.  Bane knew it as did the rest of the Aire under his command.  Too many lives from Dragonkind to Elves, from Fae to human, had been lost the world over under the assault of the Drauck. 

The dark dragons had shown a merciless might and strength in their numbers that Bane had never seen in all his millennia as a warrior fighting his way up the ranks, determined to take the respect no half-breed had ever gotten in the history of his people.

The final battle had been long and brutal, every remaining Aire fighting with every last ounce of courage they possessed though they all knew that the likelihood of defeating the Drauck was almost nonexistent.  Heavy losses had been sustained; losses that almost made the death toll previous to that day look nearly a scratch.  There was not very many left of them now and Bane was mortally wounded.  If the Mage did not act soon, he would be dead.  He saw the oncoming flood of black dragon bodies, the Drauck.  It had been a trap.  They’d gone up against a number of Drauck that looked to be small enough that the Aire could defeat them.  But that hope was now crushed.  There would be no way to withstand the approaching hoard that looked like one massive flying cloud of black death.

I curse the Mage that created the Drauck, Bane thought bitterly, all but completely resigned that the end had come.

The Drauck had become a plague of unimaginable power.  So overwhelming had they become that the Mage had gathered a council of the Aire commanders along with the Neflar court to discuss options.  Bane had been there for that council meeting.  It had been decided that, if this last battle became a loss to the Drauck, the Mage would have no choice but to destroy them all and lock their spirits away in hopes that they would all be revived again someday.  Every surviving Dragon’s soul would be locked away within a special strain of Dragonsblood herb and the Drauck would be sealed away within several different herbs that the Mage wouldn’t even discuss with them.  They assured the Dragons, however, that these herbs would be very difficult for anyone to find and it would reduce the likelihood that any of the Drauck would ever be released.  Or so they hoped.

As Bane watched the flooding final wave of Drauck swarming like an angry hornet nest over the valley where the Aire were making their last stand, his great emerald body shivered with real fear for the first time in his long life.  The tremor could even be seen in his graceful wings that propelled him through the air towards the new wave of his enemies. Yet he could already feel the tug of the Mages’ spell building in strength to call the spirits of everyone, Dragon and Drauck alike, away from their bodies. Inwardly, he resisted the spell that would ultimately save his life.  He would resist it until the last possible moment.  

A monstrous black Drauck with yellow eyes that looked almost sickly—eyes that betrayed his Fire Dragon heritage—swooped in, prepared to take Bane to Kreffah with him.  A roaring shriek sounded at the last moment before impact.  Bane's heart stopped as a great, red body slammed into the Drauck's side, foiling its charge. Druai!  

Her body was a blurring tangle as she and the Drauck tumbled towards the earth.  Bane looked around in momentary panic.  The rest of his soldiers were holding their own, but what the blazes was Druai doing here?! Bane arched into a dive to try to catch up, hoping to save his lifelong best friend from her struggle with the Drauck.

So close.  Almost there!  So focused was Bane on the tangle of red and black bodies, he didn't see the Drauck's tail draw back until it was too late.  It struck like a viper across Druai's throat, showering the Drauck in a fountain of blood even more intensely red than she had been. Bane screamed in horror as Druai's body fell away limply while the Drauck's wings stretched out to catch himself.  Druai had managed to do a helluva number on the Drauck.  His wings wouldn't be doing him much good with the multiple slashes Druai had done to the membranes.  One of the wings were broken.  Without Bane's interference, the Drauck would be lucky to not break any limbs upon impact.

However, Bane's vision was awash with rage and the roar that tore itself from his throat had the Drauck looking up at him.  The creature had forgotten about him in its weariness from the ass-kicking Druai had given it.  Big mistake.  It was never a good idea for any creature to dismiss Bane, whether on purpose or on accident.

Bane landed on the creature's back and began to tear the shit out of it with his talons.  The Drauck flipped over and caught Bane with an agonizing slash across his chest.  Scales broke off at the nerve with that blow until the Drauck's claws stuck and pierced through his skin.  Venom from the Drauck's claws ate into Bane's veins like acid.  He bellowed an agonizing roar and struck repeatedly at his hated foe, but the foul thing was hanging on.  It was determined not to let go until Bane was dead.  Another howling roar of agony ripped out of Bane's throat as the venomous acid began to eat away at the muscular structure of his pectoral where the venom-bearing claws had sunk in.  At that moment, the energy of the Magespell spiked and Bane felt himself getting dizzy between the burning agony worse than any dragonfire and the feeling of his spirit starting to detach from his flesh.  He almost welcomed it.  Almost.

Bane’s great fangs flashed and his vivid sapphire blue eyes snapped with rage as he yanked himself from the grasp of the Magework to gather himself for one last attack.  He was already greatly wounded from earlier in battle before the final wave descended and the pain was beyond unbearable, but he’d be damned if he’d be called to the World In Between without taking at least one more Drauck out.  Especially the Drauck that had killed his best friend, the Dragon he had loved -- first romantically and then just simply as a little sister.  It’d be one less Drauck being given the chance to rise again and Druai deserved no less than vengeance before he was taken.

Jagged black claws slashed again into his broad chest, breaking more scales down to the nerves in a tremendous flame of agony.  Bane roared a sonic boom of rage as he and his opponent crashed down to the ground.  Their great, hulking bodies hit the earth with a sickening, bone-crunching impact.  Lights exploded behind Bane's eyes and he found himself unable to breathe. His wings were broken, one of his legs was bent at a gravely awkward angle and the broken bone had snapped practically in half; a jagged point was sticking out from his skin, torn meat stringing off of it.  He was vaguely aware of the trees around them shuddering at the quake their impact caused. He was pulled from his stunned reverie by the Drauck shrieking a heart-stopping scream.  He jumped to his feet with every ounce of willpower he possessed; his broken leg almost crumpled and the fire of pain from it threatened to render him beyond even the grasp of the Magespell.  His other legs hurt too, but his broken one was the worst.  Bane was bowled off his feet by a lumbering attack by the Drauck.  They viciously rolled together, snapping and biting, roaring and screaming.  Bane was vaguely aware of an odd rain of thuds on the earth that surrounded them by at least a five mile circumference.  Suddenly his opponent was on top and the Drauck jammed his claws into a patch of bared skin just inches below Bane's carotid artery where he'd had scaled broken off.  The venom spilled in, seeking flesh to devour and the artery to dispense the poisonous acid more thoroughly.  The Drauck sank its weight into the blow, seeking to strangle Bane even as the acid set to work.  Bane's body drastically lost strength.  Soon he would be beyond any hope of Reclamation.

Bane struggled against the Drauck's weight as best he could.  His eyes widened ever so minutely when, in his struggle, his tail worked free from underneath his body. Baring his dagger-like fangs, he whipped his tail around, flexing the deadly blades that adorned it.  His opponent's body gave a twitch of surprise; the sickly yellow eyes found his for a moment with pleading, frightened, disoriented shock.  A raspy gurgle dredged itself from the Drauck's throat before its head lolled to the side and detached from its body.  Bane rolled to the side with a gasp, a clawed hand putting pressure in his neck where the claws had sunk in.  He roared one last time, his tail lashing again and again and again, dismembering the Drauck as much as he could in his fury before his body lost all strength.  This time, when the Magespell crashed in a wave over him, he didn't fight it. Druai was avenged.

Bane's last conscious realization was that the thudding he had felt toward the end there had been the bodies of fallen Dragon and Drauck, either completely dead or lifeless from the Magespell that Reclaimed their souls.  Then Bane joined them in oblivion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bane was vaguely conscious of the being next to him.  He felt so drowsy.  So tired.  So worn and weary that he just wanted to be left alone.  His giant emerald head swung lethargically around to the human standing next to him.  Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that the being was not entirely corporeal.

Who are you? he asked weakly.

I’m your Guardian, Bane, the human replied.  You’re in the In Between. Here you will sleep until I find the human with whom I can bond your life force and revive you.  I don’t know how long it will be til then, but for now just sleep and rest. You were greatly wounded both in body and in soul.  While you sleep, I will be doing what I can to heal you and restore your strength so that when the time comes for you to rise again, you’ll be ready.

Bane nodded wearily.  He was glad that a long sleep was coming.  If he could not pass the time with sleep, he feared he may go mad from the agony that had seared itself deep within his heart.

What is your name, Guardian? he asked.

Roalon.

Thank you for your care, Guardian Roalon.  Bane’s eyes closed and he welcomed the dreamless oblivion that claimed him.  Over the next several centuries, even in sleep, he would be able to feel the strengthening of Roalon’s healing ministrations.  And when it was time, he would awaken. He would seek the human that would revive him, and then he’d be bonded to that person forever.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roalon, a young Mage initiate, slowly climbed back to the surface from his spirit walk to the In Between – a sort of Dragon Purgatory.  His heart was heavy with sorrow for the Dragons, but it had been the only way to save them.  Many Dragons – Aire, Neflar, and those who did not fight – were lost.  Eventually they would be re-born to the Dragons that were left to try to replenish their numbers.  But that would be a long time in coming. 

Roalon walked out of his hut to meet the group of High Mage who had been responsible for reclaiming the Dragons to the netherworld.  They needed to begin immediately to tie the Dragons’ souls to their special herbs and to cast the souls of the Drauck where, hopefully, they could never be found.

He, among many other humans and Elves and Fae, civilian and Mage alike, who had been friends of the Dragon race and thus had been made immortal, was left with the sorrowful task of destroying the physical remains of their friends and charges. And though the Drauck were no longer a threat, the unknown Dark Mage that had created them was still at large.  It was no longer safe to stay in this realm.  Roalon and the other Guardians would have to pass through the portals to the human realm and pass undetected through the centuries to come.

Bane’s body was the first that Roalon found.  It was the first that he’d wanted to find. Though he’d never gotten to formally meet Bane in life, the half-breed Water/Earth Dragon had been his childhood hero.  He’d heard great tales of Bane’s determination to earn the respect of the Dragons who viewed being a hybrid as a deformity.  Bane had more than proved otherwise and many bards in Roalon’s village had written stories and songs of the Dragon’s feats.

Roalon laid a hand on Bane’s remains reverently before looking to see if there were any other Dragons lying nearby.  Right away he noticed the dismembered black form next to him. A Drauck.  Roalon had seen Bane’s memories and, from them, knew that this particular Drauck had killed someone very close to Bane.  She had been Bane’s first flickering of love before he had accepted that she would only ever be like a sister. He lay his hand against the dark beast’s flank, sorrow for both Bane and the Drauck that their lives should go so terribly wrong.  The red, still form of Druai lay only a few yards away from Bane and the Drauck who had killed her.

“She and Bane were never meant to be anything more than close friends,” a soft, feminine voice spoke by his shoulder.  Turning, he beheld the Dragon Queen, Lyra. One of the only White Ice Dragons left before this catastrophe, she was the last Dragon awake now.  The Mage would not send her to the In Between to be with her people until everything was taken care of.

“Why not?” Roalon asked.  He had never feared Lyra.  She was a wonderful Queen, benevolent to both Dragon- and other-kind.

“Druai had found her soul-mate when she disappeared for a time but she and her Mate ran afoul of the Mage responsible for starting the Drauck plague. She miraculously made it back along with their daughter, but her Mate was lost.  Like her, her mate is already dead and beyond claiming.”  Lyra looked pointedly at the dismembered remains of the Drauck.

“So who is Bane meant for?”

“I have seen a very timid woman, once one of the Elven race that had been our friends and allies until their extinction, human in her reincarnated body, who has strength beyond what she even realizes that she has.  She will think of herself as being very ordinary, but she will discover that, because of her heritage, she is anything but.  She will be the balance to Bane that he has so sorely needed.” Before she lumbered away, Lyra looked into Roalon's eyes, connected with his mind, and told him things that about made his heart stop.  Roalon was stunned beyond words at the revelations she had shared with him, both outwardly as well as in. Never before had he heard of a Dragon mating with a human. Was it even possible? He’d never seen a Dragon become a human before.  His thoughts cut off, however, when Lyra took her leave.

With a grace that most would not normally attribute to such a large creature, she turned to continue to oversee the Reclaiming rituals for her fallen people.  There was a slump in her posture that made her grief all too known.  Her Mate, the king, had fallen before the Mage could complete the spell.  Ever so valiant and willing to fight and die side-by-side with his Aire, Kynar had done just that and now Lyra was a grieving widow.

Roalon’s heart ached for her as much as it ached for the rest of Dragon-kind.  Dragons Mated for life.  Nay, they Mated for eternity.  Unless the king could be reborn, it was unlikely that Lyra would ever mate again.

By nightfall, the pyres were going strong as the Dragons were reduced to ash.  The Mage visited each pyre, marked with the name or signified by that Dragon’s Guardian, to collect a little of the ashes left behind for the purpose of their tying spells to bind the souls of the Dragons to the herbs that would sustain and carry them through the coming centuries until they could be revived.  Roalon wasn’t quite sure how it all worked – he was not yet progressed enough in his training to be privy to such Mysteries – but he had faith that the Mage would be successful in their efforts.  If they were, he’d see a cord emanating from Bane’s soul.  Hours later, he saw the cord that he was expecting and he heaved a large sigh of relief.  He had ten dragons in his charge including Bane.  Bane’s cord was the first to light up, but one by one the others followed suit including Ryula, the other Dragon that Roalon had been determined to guard over.   He and Ryula had grown up together and, like Bane and Druai, had been very close friends. He’d been but four or five summers old when he’d happened upon Ryula as a Dragon hatchling playing in the woods.  He’d not been afraid of her even as she was at least three times his size and she had not been afraid of him.  Curiosity had opened the door to a friendship that had never wavered over the years.  Ryula was still quite young by Dragon standards – barely out of teenagehood as the humans would call it.  Even though she was not dead, seeing her physical remains smolder away to nothingness on the pyre put a painful stab in Roalon’s heart at what had befallen his best friend.  Someday when she awoke in the In Between, he would have the task of telling her that her whole family had been destroyed before the Mage could Reclaim them.  His heart gave a weary, aching thump for Ryula knowing that her entire family had been lost.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Now was the time.  All the Dragon Guardians had secure magical possession of the Dragons they’d been charged to watch over.  All there was left to do was cross the portals and part ways.  Some would band together into villages, tribes, and clans; others would remain alone.  But all would be immortal so long as their duties remained intact.

A barely perceptible nod from Morrow, the ancient-yet-ageless leader of their order, began the quests of all and deep within Roalon’s spirit, he could feel the subtle shifting life forces of his wards.  Roalon shuffled forward as his fellow Guardians stepped through various portals, no one knowing which portal would take them where.  As a safety precaution in hopes of preventing the unknown Dark Mage from following them, the portals in the ringstone circle would connect to a different location each time someone stepped through.  Sometimes the portals would reconnect to a particular location, but it was purposefully impossible to predict where the portals would lead next.

At last, it was his turn. He stepped toward the Elder that beckoned him and looked into the gateway that the hengestones made.  A brief yet intense flicker of fear sparked through Roalon’s heart, causing a slight moment’s hesitation, before he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and took that first step to a new world. The journey, so very far and yet so near, was over in the matter of a mere second.  It was quicker than blinking and yet it somehow felt like it took centuries.  The resulting clash of time sensations left Roalon feeling more than a little disoriented as the human World of Men came into focus before his eyes.  He glanced about for any sign of other arrivals but it seemed, thus far, he was the only one to arrive to this location. He quickly decided that he needed to get into hiding as soon as possible.  He would stay close to the portal gate but he would remain hidden.  If anyone else from his world came through that portal, so long as he recognized the person, he would band with whomever he could.

Roalon took shelter in a thick copse of trees that provided him superb camouflage while giving him a keen view of the portals. He cast some cloaking and protective magic to further ensure his hiding place, though he knew that the flow of Magic here would take some getting used to. Evidently, the humans in this realm feared Magic.  He would soon learn the hold that the Christian priests were acquiring as the World of Man kept separating from the Fae and Dragon realms that Roalon was so familiar. 

He withdrew into himself to check on his Dragons and was comforted to see that all were sleeping as peacefully as babes.  Drawing back out, he kept watch over the portals for the next two days until he was certain that he truly was the only one that would be coming through that gate. A twinge of loneliness gripped his heart as he realized, for the time being, he was all alone.  Just him and his Dragons.

The screeching of the alarm clock shattered into Dahlia's dreams. Rolling over, she glowered at the offending object with a look that would have reduced the damn thing to a melted pile of plastic and wires if only she had the power to do so. Already the dream was fading, much to her dismay. The only thing she could even vaguely recall was the face of a Dragon – huge and green, filling her vision. He had been talking to her and the things he had been saying had sounded very important. But no matter how she tried to recall the words spoken, they faded from her memory like sand running through her fingers.

This was not the first time that the Dragon had showed up in her dreams. She didn't dream of him every night, but he had visited her in her sleep off and on most of her life. She wasn't always human in those dreams either. She remembered one dream where she had been flying on his back and when he had glided low over a pristine lake, she had glanced down at her reflection in the water. Somehow she had not been startled to see that she was an Elf. It had seemed like the most normal thing in the world.

Dahlia continued to muse over the dreams as she went through her usual morning rituals of getting showered and ready for work even though all she wanted to do was go back to bed and try to will the dream to begin again. She didn't know why, but the dream had left her with a pit in her stomach. Something dark and shadowy gnawed at the back of her mind. Eyes that didn't look right or natural set in a deep, black, reptilian face and yet it was so fuzzy, like she could not fully bring the image into focus.

But it was just a dream. So why should it bother her so much? Dahlia had a sardonic smirk cross her face as that thought crossed her mind. Why was she taking it so seriously? That was just stupid, right? She rolled her eyes before she closed them as she put her head under the shower spray.

All thoughts of the dream faded away as she parked her car and headed in to the law office where she worked. She waved at co-workers as they greeted her and vice versa.

"Morning, Dahl!" Callie greeted her. One of the other paralegals in the office, Callie had been paired with Dahlia on a case a few weeks ago, though the two women had been friends since becoming acquainted in college. Dahlia was too introverted to make friends very easily and when she discovered during a class assignment that Callie was just as introverted as Dahlia, the two women had formed a bond. Dahlia had been nothing short of relieved when they had gotten into the same office for their internships and even more so when the office had hired them both on full-time once their internships were complete.

"Hey, Callie," Dahlia returned the greeting with a smile. "We have to go interview Mrs. Sands and get her prepared for her deposition first thing, right?"

"Yep," Callie affirmed as she checked her notes and calendar. "Hey, are we still on for tonight?"

Dahlia tried to hide her blank expression as she took a swig of coffee. Tonight? What was—Oohhh. Dahlia's eyes widened as she remembered. A few weeks ago, she and Callie had gotten into a discussion of tattoos and the fact that neither one had ever gotten one because neither one had ever had the guts to do so. Since that conversation, the thought had stayed with her and she had even mused about it in her previous therapy session. As she had talked it over with her therapist, she was advised that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea.

"Given the things you went through as a child, Dahlia, maybe getting a tattoo that has symbolic meaning for you would only help you. Y'know, to go through something that can be very painful and come out of it at the end with something beautiful...." she had let the sentence trail off as she had seen the idea had taken root in Dahlia's eyes.

Dahlia shook herself back to the present as she heard Callie snicker. "You forgot, huh?"

"I dunno what you're talking about," Dahlia said innocently, taking another sip of coffee. "Seriously, though, yes we are still on for our tattoo date."

The day was a long one. Mrs. Sands' deposition prep had taken longer than either had thought it would, causing Dahlia and Callie to have to make a mad dash back to the office for their next appointments. By the time 5:00 rolled around, Dahlia was ready to collapse. She was immensely grateful that her boss didn't ask her to stay late just this once.

Dahlia drove her car back to her apartment with Callie following. After she parked her car and locked it, she got into Callie's car and they were off.

"So, what tattoo parlor are we headed to?" Dahlia asked, trying not to make her nervousness apparent.

"My brother recommended one to me. I've seen the work they do and they're incredible! He told me that we should ask for a guy named Roalon. Said that he does the most incredible work he's ever seen, and I'm talking like right up there with Kat Von D."

"How does he do with newbies like us?"

Callie shrugged. "He must do alright. Mark knows how apprehensive I've been about this. He wouldn't recommend someone who's going to suck with newbs."

"Fair enough."

Upon their arrival, Dahlia saw through the windows that the tattoo parlor was jam-packed with people and she felt herself hesitate. On the one hand, it should speak highly for the place that there were so many people there, but Dahlia couldn't help a cringe anyway. She had known for years that she was an empath. Being around large crowds of people was always overwhelming and taxing on her. She looked over at Callie for a moment and felt slightly better to see that Callie had a grimace on her face. She wasn't fond of crowds either.

Dahlia took a deep breath before she grabbed her friend's hand. She envisioned an energy shield of soft, pearly white surrounding them and keeping all the extroverted energy from overwhelming them before saying softly, "We're big girls. We can handle this."

Someone Chosen is here and I could swear that it's her! Roalon straightened sharply at Bane's statement in his head. Good thing Bane hadn't startled him while he'd been applying the stencil to his current client's ribs.

You sure? he silently asked. He ignored the frown on his client's face. He studiously kept his face neutral, though he was slightly tempted to mirror back the resting bitch face she was giving him. Whatever, you Paris Hilton wannabe. He had never liked this chick. Neither had Bane, the only Dragon of his charges left. This was the third tattoo she'd come in to get done. He had done her first one and she had insisted he be the one to do any other work she came in to get. At least this one wasn't nearly as big a job as the back piece she had wanted. He had wondered if she had chosen such an intricate piece on purpose just for the sake of how many sessions it had taken to get it all completed. Thankfully, today's session on her left arm's sleeve would only be about an hour. Roalon had gotten quite skilled during those sessions at keeping his face calm and neutral while he and Bane would have silent roasting sessions about this gal that would threaten to send him into random guffaws every couple of minutes.

Of course I'm sure, Bane's impatient energy snapped at him. Yeah, it had been a dumb question, Roalon inwardly dumbstamped himself.
If this is my Chosen at long last and this broad keeps you from being the one to do her work, I very well may force-manifest and eat this fucking cow's goddamn head off. Roalon, once again, had to force back the chuckle that bubbled up at the back of his throat though a tiny snort of a snicker got past his defenses, causing the snooty bitch in his chair to arch a brow.

Bane's energy was getting more impatient by the second but he also detected a degree of fretfulness. He knew of Bane's dreams of his Chosen. He'd had many dreams with this woman over the years from the time she had been a child. Thus far, Bane was the only Dragon Roalon knew of that had found his Chosen in such a manner. When it had happened, Roalon had contacted Morrow to question him about it. At that time, not even Morrow had known it was possible for any of the Dragons to achieve contact with their intended Guardians that way. That was a little more than twenty years ago, though. Perhaps a few other Dragons had been able to do it.

On the one hand, it had been a bit like a gods-send for Bane to see his Chosen through that medium. It had enabled Bane to already build a bond with his Chosen that would only make him stronger as the Drauck became more and more prevalent in this world. But on the other hand, it had only made the remaining time that much more taxing for Bane. Roalon knew it had to be bad enough for the Dragons to sit in their space in the In Between not knowing when their Chosen would come along much less not even knowing who they were. But Bane's knowledge of his Chosen's identity had not made that last challenge any easier to bear. To know who that person is but not even be able to influence them to come to you any sooner had to be maddening.

Don't worry, my brother, Roalon assured Bane. She is here at last; she is here at the decree of fate. She will be in no other's chair but mine. Roalon gave a slight smile as he felt the enormous Dragon's energy settle a bit. Calm he was not by any means, but more controlled he certainly was now. Roalon's focus on Nadia's tattoo sharpened; Bane became the epitome of silence while he worked.

By the time Nadia's slated hour was over, Bane felt like he was about to climb the figurative walls, for all the good it would do him. Bane's impatience was starting to seep into Roalon's own mood and he just about felt ready to take Nadia's simpering head off by the time she was out of his chair and on her way out the door. When he went to the appointment desk where his friend and fellow Guardian, Talia, was seated, she handed him a couple sheets of paper.

"These two girls were referred directly to you, so you have your evening cut out for you," she said as his eyes scanned the papers. Talia pointed to one and added, "Callie's brother, Mark, has gotten work by you before. That's what she told me, anyway." Roalon nodded. He remembered Mark.

"And who's the other one?" he asked casually, although he already knew.

"Her friend, Dahlia." Talia scanned Dahlia briefly with her peripherals. "Is she?" She didn't finish the question beyond that. She knew. And Roalon knew that she did. He gave a slight nod.

"Yes. She's Bane's."

"Oh, thank the gods. At long last. I felt her vibe when she walked in and knew she was a Chosen. I took special care to make sure that she'd go to no one else even before she and Callie came up to request you specifically."

"With the Drauck that have been getting freed, we need all the Dragons revived that we can get." Roalon strode toward Dahlia. She took priority.

Dahlia looked up sharply when she heard a man's voice speaking her name. He had a long, blonde goatee, ice blue eyes, short-shorn blonde hair and somehow he reminded her of Ragnar from "Vikings", one of her favorite shows. His face was kind, but, like Ragnar, he looked like he just might be going into battle and her empathic abilities immediately kicked into gear. He was tense. Nervous? She frowned to herself. What was up with him?
"That's me," she said, though she felt it was useless. Dude wasn't asking for her, he'd stated it as plainly as if they'd met before even though she knew for a damn fact they hadn't.

"If you're ready to go, my chair just opened up and I was told that you and your friend had requested me specifically."

Dahlia looked around the room, confused. There were still so many people here that had already been here by the time she and Callie had arrived. "Don't these people go first?"

"Don't worry. They've all got appointments with other tattoo artists and the ones that don't are just waiting for the next free artist to be available. They're not picky." At Dahlia's wary look and the arch of her brow, he quickly added, "That's not to say that you are. There's nothing wrong with requesting a specific artist. Especially for your first tat." He gave her a reassuring smile.

Dahlia gave one last cursory look around the room before she wordlessly followed him back to his tat room.

"Why do you have your own room?" she blurted without thinking. At his curious glance, she said, "I was just wondering since I saw other artists that have their chairs out in the open area."

Roalon laughed. "I prefer private rooms. It's not to do anything sheisty—" he ignored the slight twinge of conscience he felt at that statement. "I just do better work when I can control the environment I work in." Dahlia seemed satisfied with the answer. At first, her general manner grated on his nerves. She almost seemed not much different than the Nadia chick he'd just done work on. But no. As he looked at her for one more moment before getting her settled into his chair, he realized that she was just a very wary person. Introverted. Not necessarily easily-spooked, but she was definitely not comfortable in new situations. He didn't know what specifically, but she had the jumpiness of an abused dog. Best to take care to not make her feel cornered.

Shit. How would she handle what was about to befall her? Roalon felt guilt creeping up. How could he do this to her without her prior knowledge? Yet before the words were even fully thought out, he knew that it was just not an option. She'd think he was crazy and she'd be running for her life out of the tattoo parlor and Bane might not ever have another chance to be joined to his Chosen Guardian.

How can we do this to her without any warning, Bane?

Put her in the trance and leave it to me.

"So, Dahlia, do you have any ideas for what design you were thinking of getting?" He couldn't help at smile when he felt Dahlia's energy relax just a little. She was not as guarded anymore as she was shy. What she didn't know was that he knew what she was going to say. Every other Chosen he had tattooed had only one thing in mind for their design: a Dragon. And that was without them having a prior bond formed with their Dragon. She had already met Bane in her dreams even if she didn't yet realize the significance of the dreams she'd had all her life. And now that fate had brought her to his shop as had already been ordained for all those thousands of years before she was born, he would be shocked all to shit if she'd had anything else on her mind but Dragons.

"Well," Dahlia said hesitantly. "Honestly, I've been wracking my brains about it for a few weeks; even brought it up in one of my therapy appointments, if that tells you anything." She gave a nervous laugh as though she were waiting for someone to capitalize her nervous humor with a rimshot on drums. Roalon graced her joke with an encouraging smile but otherwise waited patiently in silence, pulling on his long goatee thoughtfully.

He wanted so fucking badly to pop out and finish her thought with "A Dragon?" but he didn't dare. She was on guard enough as it was and he knew that she was an empath. He'd felt it on her immediately. He had to keep himself as calm and non-agitated as possible or she'd wonder what the hell was up. Well, more than she already was, anyway.

Dahlia brought herself back out of her thoughts where she had gone as she had tried to search for any words that would match what was in her head. No matter what design idea she thought of, it always faded away in the favor of something else. The thought had latched so firmly she finally shrugged and gave in.
"Well, how clichéd would it be to ask for a Dragon?" What the hell? If she didn't know any better, she'd swear that Roalon had just given an almost-imperceptible sigh of relief.

Careful, brother. She is freakishly perceptive.

"Not at all! Besides, Dragons are my favorite things to do tats of." Roalon went and sat at his drawing desk. "If you don't mind a suggestion, let me draw up a design that I think would kick ass on you." Dahlia's smile at the suggestion was all the encouragement he needed. First on a piece of hectograph paper over the light in his drawing table, he sketched out Bane's image down to the tiniest scale. Dahlia lost track of time as she found herself mesmerized by the image Roalon wove on the paper with his artistic magic. Surely a drawing of that detail and skill had to have taken a couple hours to sketch alone!

"Wow!" she whispered, utterly entranced. Roalon looked up for a bare second to give her an appreciative smile.

When he finished the drawing, he held it up to her with a studious frown on his face. "Hmmm.... Now just to figure out the best placement." It didn't really matter where Bane's essence was placed on her body. They'd be joined at the soul, his tethered to hers, and he'd be able to manifest his physical form off of her body regardless of where his image was laid down. However, there just seemed to be only one place that was fitting to lay Bane's image on her skin.

Before he could even say anything, Dahlia's soft voice broke in. "That's going to be huge." Her face flamed with a modest blush. Her eyes were still captivated on the drawing. It was in a charcoal portrait style with exceptional shading and shadowing that made it look very 3D. The Dragon on the paper before her looked like he was climbing; there were cracks where his talons sank in. His neck snaked around and his jaws gaped in a defensive snarl that showed his flashing fangs. His wings were flared and raised above his head and below him a tail with wicked-looking blades flashed. Simply put, the Dragon looked like he was two seconds away from direly fucking someone up in order to protect something precious.

"I have an idea of where to place him," Roalon broke into her thoughts gently at last, "but I worry what you might think of the idea, so just so you are aware, I promise this is not a suggestion made with any sexual intent."

Dahlia's eyes cleared as she came out of her reverie. She looked at Roalon, once more to the drawing, and back to Roalon. She stood up and gazed at the front of her torso and then her back in the full-length mirror, her brow furrowed thoughtfully. All traces of hesitation and wariness had melted away.
"Go ahead and tell me your idea, Roalon," she finally said.

"So I was thinking that the tail could whip around your navel, have the hindquarters coming up from near your left hip, have the wings splayed beneath your breasts, and have his neck and head come up between your breasts to curl around close to your heart.
"See, you're the only empath here, Dahlia. I don't know what happened to you and I'm not going to dig, but I get the sense that you were sexually abused, possibly even raped, and you're here to symbolically take your power back. This isn't a sexual idea I'm having, it's a way to honor your body for what it's been through, recognize that it's beautiful, and protect yourself."

Dahlia's eyes filled with tears as Roalon spoke. Her eyes shone with gratitude. She couldn't believe that this complete stranger had not only caught a sense of what she'd been through but had also come up with such an amazing tattoo idea to celebrate her survival.
"I think that idea is perfect," she said hoarsely.

Roalon smiled a gentle response and gave her shoulder a kind squeeze but inside all he could feel was rage. Bane's rage. Even through dreams, Bane had no idea that Dahlia had been though such vileness.

I will hunt down the soulless sonofabitch! I will tear his skin off!

Bane, you need to calm down for her sake, Roalon reminded him gently. The ritual will begin soon and I need you to be as serene as possible. She needs to be your focus right now; the other can be taken care of later. He felt the great Dragon take a huge, shuddering breath before the anger seeped out of him. Roalon was careful to keep it contained where Dahlia would not get a sense of it. He didn't need her becoming afraid or wondering what the rage was about because, of course, he couldn't tell her yet.

Roalon got Dahlia to settle back in his chair and asked her to remove her blouse. "I have these pads for your breasts to protect your modesty," he began to offer but Dahlia shook her head.

"As strange as it may seem, I trust you, Roalon. Between what was done and then the therapy that has helped me to heal, I don't have any more illusions of modesty and I don't sense any raping intent on your part, so don't worry about it."

Roalon's eyes softened even more at her trust. Something miraculous from someone who had been through such a betrayal. He would do absolutely everything to honor her trust even has he had to perform a ritual without her knowledge that would bring her into a world she never knew of and a war she never asked for. His heart ached at the thought, but he steeled himself. "Alright. I am going to lay the stencil on your skin and make any and all adjustments and then I will get my inks ready."

Dahlia calmly removed her shirt so Roalon could lay the stencil down. Roalon was completely stoic but Bane most definitely was not. From his place in the astral, he could see through Roalon's eyes if he so wished or he could see the environment that surrounded Roalon. And at the sight of Dahlia's bare torso, Bane's breath caught. She had a few scars gracing her front -- a couple slashed across her belly and one curled with deliberate cruelty across the top and around the underside of her right breast. By the sense that Bane was getting off of her, he could tell that this was the first time since these incidents had occurred that anyone had beheld the evidence that something had happened.

Roalon's fingers were gentle and respectful as he adjusted the stencil for the tattoo to interact with one of the scars that would be in the way. Dahlia's face was as stoic as a shieldmaiden until Roalon sat back satisfied with the placement of the stencil. He stretched a hand to her so she could face the mirror and see it. Dahlia didn't flinch as she beheld herself and the lines that would, unbeknownst to her, soon contain the essence of the Dragon whose lines she was caressing.

Bane groaned impatiently, longing to feel her fingers on his skin in that manner. But every part of this ritual was sacred and had to be handled with the utmost care and respect.

Dahlia laid back in the chair after giving her breathless approval to the final draft of the tattoo. She drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves. She was eager for this tattoo, but she had heard how rib tattoos could be very painful. She closed her eyes and focused on her breath while she listened to Roalon get his tools put together to his satisfaction.

Unbeknownst to Dahlia, however, while Roalon was there in body, his spirit journeyed to the Clave where the soul essences of the Dragons were kept since the Reclaiming.

"Thank the gods, you're here for Bane at last, aren't you?" S'ria, an Elven Mage Guardian crowed at him, her graceful, pointed ears twitching in delight. Her shift of watching over the Dragon Essences in the Clave had been going on for nearly two centuries and she had been there for each and every Dragon he had come to release and had been just as surprised as he over how long Bane had been awake without his Chosen coming along. It was S'ria who, once Roalon had told her of Bane's dreams, had made the connection that Bane had awoken the moment that his Chosen was born. "It's odd, because this is his Chosen we are talking about," she had told Roalon. "But the alertness and the dream connection are things you more see with Dragon pairs that are fated to be Mates."

Roalon had not told S'ria of what the Queen Lyra had said to him. By the Queen's request, he hadn't even told Bane.

When S'ria returned from the depths of the Clave and handed him Bane's soul essence, he thanked her hastily and ran to return to his body while she sent him off with a laugh and a wave. For Roalon's spirit, he had been gone 20 minutes, but by Earth timing, he had only been gone mere seconds. The vial of Bane's essence appeared in his hand within a millisecond of his return. He quickly mixed the Dragonsblood into his inks, brought them over to his tray, and put on some soothing New Age music. Dahlia did not know that he had tweaked his collection of calming music to induce a meditative trance. Dahlia would be aware of the tattoo work beginning, but she would fade off into her trance and she wouldn't even feel the pain of the tattoo burning in the more sensitive places on her ribs.

"Here we go," he said gently and Dahlia gave a nod, a small smile, and took a deep, steadying breath. Her mind was already latched onto the swirling melodies that provoked visions of flying low over cresting ocean waves. The droning buzz of the tattoo gun barely penetrated that lovely mental picture and neither could the initial sting of the needles piercing the ink into her skin. This isn't so bad, she thought dreamily to herself.

A huge Dragon was standing beside her. The Dragon she had dreamed about all her life. Of course it would be he whose image she wanted for her tattoo. The Dragon had saved her from her misery so many times as a child. So many times her young body had been awake while her foster father had raped her, and yet this Dragon, her friend, had carried her mind away to happier places. She never told him what happened. As a child, she assumed he always knew. Bane was always there when she'd needed him. Carrying her off to meadows of emerald greens, amethyst purples, and sapphire blues. Always jewel tones. They were always her favorite colors. With Bane she could always forget for a little while the violation and cruelty being marked into her body.

But now Bane was different. The moment he saw her, his leathery wings drew over and around her to pull her close against his shoulder. His serpentine, graceful neck arched around so his breathtaking blue eyes could look at her and they were pierced with sadness and grief.

I didn't know, was all he said at first. His emotions created a colorful mother-of-pearl effect in his eyes. I could always feel that something was amiss when I'd sleep, so I would come for you, but I never knew what was actually happening.

Dahlia still felt a bit confused. Bane was just a dream, wasn't he? An imaginary friend of her own mind's creation out of a desperation to escape into something good out of the nightmares of her waking childhood, right? Her rational mind wanted to panic and dig ferociously into something concrete, something real. Because a huge, ginormous emerald green Dragon with the bluest eyes ever conceived of was just not in the realm of reality. And Dahlia Marx and worked very hard to construct her reality around her after she'd run away from her foster family when she was 13. Miracles don't happen in real life, but Dahlia couldn't deny the miracle the gods had given her when she was found by the Marx family, sleeping in a barn on a ranch that Brandon Marx worked at.

She wouldn't let him near her at first. He'd had to go get his boss's wife, who'd only had marginally more success in coaxing the gaunt runaway with the haunted eyes out of her hiding place while Brandon called his wife, Maria. She had come with their two adolescent daughters, April and Alix -- girls around Dahlia's age.

Brandon and Maria had hung back while their daughters went into the stall that Dahlia had been sleeping in. They simply sat down a few feet away from her, empathic in nature enough to feel when they'd gotten to close. They had brought food for her and coaxed her into having a picnic with them. It had taken all day; they had missed school for her. No work at the ranch had gotten done that day. But Brandon and Maria and Alice and Alix, all the ranch hands, the bosses -- everyone had been there for her. Not crowding in, but still doing their best to show their care and concern.

Towards evening time, Brandon stood outside of the stall were the girls continued to coax Dahlia out of her shell. By this time they had managed to get her name.

"Dahlia, I need you to listen to me," Brandon said gently. "I'm going to tell you right now that I can tell you have been through a fuck-ton of hell. You don't even have to say what it was and I'm not asking. But I'm going to be completely straight with you, I have to notify the police, but," he added quickly, "but I'm not going to let them take you back to wherever it is you came from, alright? I promise you that."

Dahlia had given him a dark, sour, and untrusting look. "Don't make promises you can't keep." Her voice fell flat and bitter.

Brandon had given her a kind, sad smile. "See, that's the thing, my sister works in CPS and she's one of the rare good ones. She's the next call I'm making. She will drop whatever she's doing, she will get her ass out here, and she will help us."

Dahlia looked up, her eyes uncertain.

"Dahlia," a gentle voice gently pulled her out of her memories. Her imaginary Dragon faded away. She woke to a burning ache on her torso akin to a decently red sunburn like the one she'd gotten the first time the Marxes had taken her to the ocean. She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath as she struggled to waken. The breath died in her lungs as she turned her body and got her first look at the tattoo gracefully adorning her belly, curving around her breasts, and ending near her heart.

"Wow," she whispered. For several heartbeats, that was all she could muster.

The tattoo looked like it had been done in charcoal, even moreso than it had looked on the stenciling paper. It was a black and white portrait with only hints and highlights of color added in.

"Wow," she breathed again. Turning to Roalon, her eyes filled with tears of gratitude and amazement, but there was something sad in Roalon's smile. He placed a gentle hand on her knee and gave a brotherly squeeze. "Thank you," she whispered, still overcome. "I never imagined having such a piece of art to carry around with me."

"Just remember how strong you are and hold onto that," he said gently. He handed her a business card. "I need to get your friend, Carrie's artwork done, but if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call me, ok?" Something ominous hung in his words and made Dahlia's heart give a wary squeeze, but she didn't make anything of it and, instead, waited for Roalon to grab Carrie so she could show her the finished tat and listen to Carrie's astounded squeals before she put her shirt on and went out to the waiting room.

There was a woman who caught her eye that was chatting with the lady at the desk with a serious expression. Her skin carried a gorgeous olive-toned luster; black hair spilled down to her backside in a midnight waterfall. But what caught Dahlia's attention the most was the dragon tattoo that wended its way up the girl's left leg, wove into her short shorts and back out to curl around her half-shirt-adorned torso like a belly chain. "What is this, a Stieg Larsson convention?" Dahlia muttered to herself under her breath.

Her skin prickled when the women's conversation stopped and, in unison, they turned and their eyes fastened onto her.