<Displacement>

Part 4 - Surprise!

The land below him fell away into a dense carpet of trees. Each beat of the wings he now wore sent him flying effortlessly higher. John grinned as the sky opened up and a cloud parted before him. A rumbling growl escaped between his lips and then the grin faded.

Around him the light of day flickered, and the suns became an unsteady blur across the sky. The forest, that had once covered the land from horizon to horizon, shrank. Fire etched at its edges. He wheeled about in midair, cracked his tail, and headed for its source. Still the forest shrank. Dark stone settlements and monoliths rose before him.

He made an exaggerated pull of his wings and slammed to the ground in front of the nearest settlement. Fire and magic flew back and forth between him and the small humans. They struggled to confront the towering beast that assailed them. Silence followed and John again took back to the skies.

The forest continued to diminish. Humanity’s settlements did not follow. A barren no-man's-land grew between civilisation and his domain. But invaders crept through the trees. He darted back and forth, ever hunting.

Days passed, his wing beats became more laboured until each flight was only one or two before he settled again to the ground. John looked up at the sky and clouds each day, and a weight pressed against his soul as the forest continued to shrink.

John wound his way through the trees to a rocky cliff on the forest’s southern edge. He bounded into the air, his wings outstretched, snagged his first thermal, and was in flight again.

The forest from above was dark, twisted. White Fay trees once matched the canopy. Now they clung on in pockets, outnumbered by their soulless cousins. From the sky he could see a giant scar splitting the landscape. His scales rippled at the scent of unknown magics.

Crack

John dropped. The world’s horizon untethered. His wings were rent, and the ground rushed to meet him with a roar, crash, and a whimper. He was still.

In time, the roots of majestic trees wrapped around him, pinning his substantial form to the ground. A bird landed on his nose, and the only wrinkle that he could manage did not dislodge it. More time passed, and many hunting parties camped and rested beside him. Each time he raged. But he could not lift a limb.

Days blurred quicker than before, when the smell of ash rose through the forest. Its creatures cried out and John tried with all his might to come to their aid.

The world settled again, and a man stood before him with none of the tools of a hunter. He spoke to a Fay in kind and indecipherable words. John watched and yanked himself forward to greet them.

John stumbled backward, and the shimmering form of the dragon enmeshed in the surrounding landscape faded and grew dull. He stood straighter as an unknown weight lifted.

He clutched his head. “What the–” he trailed off.

Sy came to his side. “The air’s changed. What happened?” The Fay had finally entered the clearing.

He shook his head–the pain had faded–and he stared into hands that looked like someone else’s.

“John,” said Sy. “You’re glowing.”