10. The Change
“I’m proud of you.” Amjazel’s words hung in Arxet’s mind the whole night like some sort of torment. He couldn’t sleep with her words pounding in his skull. “I’m proud of you.” It was almost like it was intentional with how they echoed. The dragon was some kind of telepathic magic master or something after all. “I’m proud of you.” Why would she say it like that? She barely knew him. She’d seen in his mind but that didn’t mean she knew him. Right?
“I’m proud of you.” In response to what? His affirmation that she was correct about him? His acceptance of her offer? Him struggling through three weeks of rider’s training? Losing every fight but one in the ring? “I’m proud of you.”
It didn’t help those were her last words for him before she’d slipped out of the jungle room and back out into the outside world with a silence that no creature of her bulk should ever have been afforded. He didn’t get to ask questions. He could only guess by the bed laid out in a clearing hidden behind where she had sat for their conversation that he was meant to sleep here tonight. It certainly wasn’t dragon sized. He wasn’t even sure how she had left the room to be honest. The doorway wasn’t big enough.
“I’m proud of you.”
“WOULD YOU SHUT UP!” He screamed at no one in particular. There was no response. The room was for him alone. The flora in the artificial cavern within the ziggurat was so dense he didn’t even receive an echo from the stone walls. Fuck this.
He rolled out of the bed and onto his feet. He wasn’t going to just lay here all night. If he was going to become a dragon in the morning he probably wouldn’t get in trouble for going for a walk.
The halls to the stairwell were empty, no guards, no priests. He had assumed that this place would be bustling all hours of the day with how big it was, but it was seemingly deserted. He glanced briefly into the other hallway doors on his way back out, he had been too preoccupied to do so on his arrival. Each held a different biome within, one desert, one swamp, one like a snowy cliffside. Some even had beds similar to his own for the night with a figure tucked in, one room even had two. In the low light he couldn’t see exactly who, but he could guess: the rest of the chosen for his class.
It was all coming together now. All of them had been picked out to become a dragon like him. Were the pair chosen by the same dragon going to have to decide who would take it, or was the dragon really going to be generous enough to turn them both? It certainly made the club feel less exclusive. Were some chosen for every session of initial rider classes? There were two more that would be held when his finished. Would they have more or less? How many dragons are there in total when there’s only up to or more than 15 dragons being made per year? How many dragons hatched from eggs ‘the old fashioned way’ each year to add to that? Not every dragon associated with the ministry either. He didn’t think he planned to. What had the ministry ever done for him? Would he be able to return home to Tiskin after-
“Having trouble sleeping, are we Arxet? Don’t worry, nerves are normal the night before.”
His head snapped up to the top of the staircase. In the dark he could only see a silhouette, but he thought he knew the voice. “Who’s there?”
“Oh, just Fatima. Come on up, I have some tea here. It should help calm you some.” The silhouette disappeared from the framing of the open sky at the landing.
Sure, he might not be in trouble, but he wasn’t getting anywhere unnoticed.
After a moment of hesitation he ascended the steps to the top of the ziggurat. The cold night air cut through him almost immediately. He realized he had come to the top wearing his rider armor the first time, which had additional insulation so riders wouldn’t freeze to death on dragonback in the mountains. He dashed to the brazier that had been brought out and placed below the stone ceiling to cup his hands over the flames. They seemed to make him warmer than they should have been able to without burning him.
He and Fatima weren’t alone up here either. A girl, probably a few years older than Arxet he would guess, was sitting cross legged on the altar with a cup of tea herself. She just smiled at Arxet knowingly before returning her attention to her drink. She wasn’t another one of the students chosen by the dragons, he knew their faces well as the most popular of the academy for the year. Most other dragons seemed to like the capable and attractive types to become dragons themselves it seemed.
“Arxet, this is Verdigris. Verdigris, this is Arxet.” The woman gestured between them both. “Arxet is one of our new dragons for the season.”
“Oh! How exciting!” The woman’s face lit up. “I still remember the day I turned. I hope yours goes easier than mine. I was too eager to fly for the first time and broke my wing jumping off the ziggurat.” She flashed him a bashful grin. “Who’s siring you?”
“Siring?” He squinted as Fatima poured him a cup.
“Who’s turning you? What dragon picked you?” Verdigris explained.
“That would be Amjazel.” Fatima answered for him. “It’s her first time in over a century. Maybe I should have another one of these days too. I do miss it…” She sighed wistfully.
“Wait, you’re both dragons too? How are you…” He gestured to them both with confusion.
“Dragons are shapeshifters, Arxet. Haven’t you been paying attention in your dragonology classes?” The older woman sounded concerned more than annoyed or angry. “How are you going to take care of yourself if you don’t even understand the basics? Amjazel will have her work cut out for her with you.” That would at least explain how Amjazel left through that doorway earlier in the night.
“Well maybe if I knew beforehand I’d have paid more attention. None of this made any sense to me!” He threw his hands up.
“I set these rules the way they are because it’s a closely guarded secret that dragon blood can be used to turn people into dragons, dear.” Fatima slid a bowl of honey candies over to him. “We don’t want people to get the wrong idea and start attacking dragons for their blood because they don’t understand the rituals that go into preparing it for such a task, it would be a catastrophe. So we keep it a secret. Chosen aren’t told until later so they don’t slip up.”
“It’s still a- wait, you made the rules?” He quirked his whiskers at the comment.
“Yes dear, my real name is Tiamat. I just use Fatima as a pseudonym for when walking among mortals. I wouldn’t want to scare anyone.”
Oh. Fatima Mattar. Tiamat. Very ‘clever’. “I... never would have guessed.” He averted his eyes. Is it rude to look a goddess in the eyes? What’s the etiquette?
“Please dear, relax. I’ve invited you to my home freely, and I always make sure to keep hot tea and snacks for anyone nervous before a ritual dawn.” She reached across the altar and patted his hand. “Verdigris here came by because she’s nervous about being a first time mother, and you’re nervous about becoming a dragon. Whether or not it’s a good change it’s a big one, and I hope to help everyone through it. Talk to me like you would any batty old lady offering you tea and snacks.”
“Right… well the tea is good I guess. I think. I’m not much of a tea drinker.” He swirls the cup, watching the leaves circle the edge.
“I have wine and beer too, but try not to overindulge. You have a big morning coming.” She passes him a keg that she seemingly pulled from nowhere.
“Thanks, batty old lady.” He dumps the tea on the stone behind him and pours himself a teacup’s worth of beer. “So…” What does one even ask a god? Why is there suffering in the world? Isn’t that a cliché?
“You have questions, I have time. Go on, dear.” She poured a fresh cup for Verdigris.
“Coldmarks…” He wasn’t sure where to start with them.
“What about them? Why they happen? How to remove them? Will it go away with the change?”
“Why do you allow people to treat me like shit for it?” Might as well start strong.
She takes a minute to collect her thoughts. She sips on her cup and leans back far in her chair before finally speaking again. “I am not all powerful, Arxet. I can be killed, just as Ninazu killed my husband and I killed Ninazu. I created dragons to help extend my will out into an impossibly large world for one old woman to care for alone. Some choose to follow this calling, some don’t. I love them all regardless, because they were also created to keep me company. My first children were a random assortment of mortal warriors who wanted to fight back against Ninazu with me, so I shared a portion of my power with them, and ever since they’ve helped me keep Ti’aval safe. But I can’t wave my hand and fix the world’s problem. Mortals are superstitious and fear that which they don’t understand. I have begun trying to quell these fears, far later than I should have, I freely admit, but I do not have the power to wave them away. For that I am sorry.”
His eye twitched. Why did she have to have such a reasonable response? Part of him wanted to rant and rave and get her pissed off for some reason and test the limits of Emren’s promise to him. “Will it go away when I transform?”
“I have truly no idea. You are not the first cold one to enter the academy, but you are the first to be chosen. All I know is that new dragons gain a form that reflects their deepest desires, even ones they aren’t fully aware of. This form can even shift and change over time. Why, when my eldest first transformed he had wings, and now he’s an ocean dragon without legs or wings, just arms and fins. Whatever form you’ll take I’m sure you’ll be happy with it in the long run.”
Arxet’s thoughts wandered to the sapphire in his pocket and he absentmindedly took it out to admire in the firelight. It’s not like Tiamat didn’t have her own gems to admire, he doubted she’d want to take his. “Would be nice if my scales were this color, I gotta say.”
The goddess leaned over to get a better look. “Oh my, that is a beautiful color. I hope the best for you. Where did you find such a stone? It’s stunning.”
“Oh. I. Erm. Stole it.” He instinctively put it back away. “And then Tifse stole it from me. And then I stole it back.”
“Well it’s one of the finest I’ve seen. An excellent start to a hoard, if you’re the type of dragon to keep one.” She beamed.
“You don’t care that I stole it?” He rotated the stone between his thumb and forefinger in his pocket to expend some nervous energy. Not many people could say they admitted a crime to a goddess.
“No, I’m assuming you stole it from the jeweler who sold you out and sent you to jail, and one thing I do believe in is revenge.” Her tone went from warm and cheery to icy in a heartbeat. Arxet shivered at the display. This was more like the ruthless ocean goddess he’d heard some describe her as. Many of the legends of how she killed Ninazu after the murder of her husband, Apsu, were long and bloody affairs. The one that stuck with him the most was the legend where she didn’t even kill Ninazu and instead imprisoned him in the stars half dead so that his suffering would last forever. But then again, other versions of the legend just said she slit his throat while he was resting after the battle with Apsu, less torturous but just as brutal. Now probably wasn't the time to ask.
Of course she knew. “Yeah, that bastard. I had a feeling he’d do something, so I kept a backup plan. People are always looking to fuck me over so I try to fuck them back and make up what I’ll lose.” He clenched his fist and stared straight into her eyes. “I guess it’s part of why Amjazel picked me.”
“Good. An important part of being a dragon is knowing that you shouldn’t be trifled with. You’ll make an excellent dragon.” Her tone switched back to friendly and motherly in an instant once again. He couldn’t predict the woman. “Now, I do have some cakes left over from the little social I had this afternoon if you’d like some?”
Hours passed as he sat atop the largest structure in the world and chatted about this and that with the only living deity left in existence. At some point he nearly forgot she was who she was and managed to loosen up completely, at which point she shooed him back to bed to get his rest before his big day. He failed to get good sleep exactly, but it was better than nothing, and he was no stranger to sleep deprivation.
He was woken early by a knock on one of the trees near his bed. He rolled over to squint at the intruder only to find Emren again. “Good morning! Sun up is in a little less than an hour, let’s get you cleaned up and ready.”
“Cleaned up?” He grumbled and pushed himself up to his elbows to glare at her as she unfolded his dress robe and dusted it off. “Why would I wear the nice stuff? I’m just gonna grow out of it aren’t I? I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Oh no, it’s magic, dear.” She waved off the concern. “You’ll still be wearing it when you learn to shape-shift back. Just keep your expectations moderate though, some dragons can take decades to master their shape-shifting. Why, Rubis didn’t learn until nearly 7 years after she changed. It made it hard to find her after the she became adragon.”
“You knew her before?” The rat started to slide out of the bed and squint angrily at the artificial sun that had lit up the interior jungle he’d slept in.
“Yes, she’s my daughter by birth. We were… separated, for a long time until I found her again. She was already a dragon by then. I became Amjazel’s rider, and Am and I fell in love later.”
“Oh. That explains a lot I guess.” Arxet stretched and started to pull the dress robe over himself. “Funny how that works out.”
“It is in hindsight, yes.” The cat woman chuckles and straightens out the robe before pulling out a brush and beginning to fix Arxet’s fur. “I should tell the story for you properly some time, I don’t have time for the full thing now. Rubis tells it better than me too.”
“My mom would freak out if she found out I was doing this. Once I’m out of here I may even pay her a visit.” His tone was smug and mildly threatening. He had a lot to share with her and his father about the years of suffering they’d put him through when they abandoned him.
“You can go if you want, some dragons choose to figure out their new bodies on their own. It can be a deeply personal journey. But I do recommend staying here and learning the basics from Amjazel. She’ll teach you to fly, to use your fire, and more advanced magic as well.” She began to tug at a particularly stubborn snag in Arxet’s fur.
He jumped as the knot came undone in a violent wrench down his neck, but was left with much to consider. Being a dragon without guidance did seem challenging, and Verdigris had already told her that she’d hurt herself badly learning to fly on her own. “Yeah… maybe just for the basics.” He sighed in defeat. “Do I have to pick a rider?”
“You don’t have to do anything, but until you learn to take this form again you might appreciate someone to be your hands and your voice.” She put the brush away and started checking him over again. “Most people can’t communicate mentally without distress, and even if many dragons do have thumbs their claws are still cumbersome compared to fingers.”
“Fine… I can maybe. Think about it.” There were turning out to be more strings attached than he expected. “Would I have to wait until the current class finishes in two months?”
“Unfortunately yes. Unless you look into the priesthood and find someone you like I suppose, it’s uncommon but not unheard of.” She pulled a wad of wrapped leaves tied together with string from her bag and shoved it into Arxet’s hands. “Here, eat. You’ll need your strength. You seemed to enjoy it last time.”
He slowly unrolled it to find a loaf of bread stuffed with vegetables, meat, and hummus. “Thanks. Uh… Tiamat’s tail you’re all doing too much for me. I gotta figure out a way to pay you back.”
“You can pay me back by savoring it, and not inhaling it like last time, okay?” She patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll keep your things at the house for now. You won’t be able to use a lot of it until you can turn back anyway.”
“Sure. Right. Thanks.” This still felt so alien. Is this what it looked like to have good people in your life? As requested he ate the loaf slowly and made sure to savor each bite. She really was an amazing cook.
“You’re welcome.” She licked a paw and fixed a spot of fur on top of his head. “There, you look perfect.” She sounded proud too.
He couldn’t fathom it really. “I’m ready when you are then.”
“Good, come along, friend.” She took his hand as she had the night before and lead him out into the hallway.
The other chosen were all waiting at the bottom of the stairs to the top, or most of them at least. One of them was absent, an older boy who had worn a golden sapphire broach. Maybe he’d said no? The others all looked shocked to see him here, as if his amethyst broach had been a lie. “Arxet? You’re-”
“Becoming a dragon too, yeah.” He interrupted one of the boys with matching pink garnet broaches. “What, you thought I’d say no?”
“No, I just thought… I don’t know. Your coldmark-”
“Their coldmark is absolutely irrelevant.” Emren snapped from his side. “The official position of the ministry and by extension Tiamat is that its not only harmless but unrelated to Ninazu. You may be destined to be a dragon, but don’t forget your place. Arxet has earned this just as much as all of you.”
Arxet blinked at the cat with surprise. She was being downright defensive of him. He understood that he would be apprenticing with Amjazel, and Emren by extension, but this was odd. “I can handle a few insults and backhanded questions just fine.” It was his first time using mental communication outside of a class, but he figured he’d need to get used to it once he got all scaly anyway. Now was a fine time to start.
“Sorry, I didn’t embarrass you there, did I? I’m just trying to help.” A small pang of guilt bridged the connection. He realized she could probably feel how awkward and nervous he was. “You’ll do fine. The ritual is just Tiamat giving a speech and then you drinking a goblet of Am’s blood.”
“Badass.”
“I suppose you could call it that.” She giggled. “There’s more to it than that of course, you have to enchant the blood first, but… it’s simple from your end. You won’t have to worry about the specifics unless you want kids one day.”
“Wait, what do you-” His thoughts are cut off by a colossal eye peaking down into the stone corridor.
“We are ready, please ascend and stand before your dragon.” Arxet’s mind was left ringing as a deep, booming voice with a tinge of motherly affection echoed through him. If he thought that Amjazel’s mind touching his was intense this voice was on a different level. He felt the urge to run, to go and hide and pray. This must be Tiamat.
Arxet happened to be the closest to the stairwell at the announcement and started the line up with shaky steps. As he reached the top he stopped and let his jaw go slack. A dragon almost the size of the ziggurat itself was floating in the air above him, easily five times the size of Amjazel. Her wings were still, it seemed as if magic alone was keeping her aloft. Shouldn’t there be a panic in the city? Even if she was their goddess how could people ever get accustomed to a dragon this size floating above the city on the regular? Her scales were a deep reflective crimson, nearly black if not for the sun reflecting off of them revealing hues of red and orange around her edges. Just one of her teeth poking out from her upper jaw over her lip was as large as Arxet’s whole body.
Emren cleared her throat behind him and took his hand again. He hated that he was getting used to her doing this, it made him feel like a child. “Only we can see her right now, but that is her true form.” She let him know as if she could read his mind, which was actually quite possible he realized. At the end of a short walk Amjazel craned her neck down to greet him with a small careful lick to his face. He scowled at the contact. Now was hardly the time. Emren, to her credit, scolded her wife for the small lick and started fixing his fur again.
The sun was beginning to crest the watery horizon to the east. Tiamat cleared her throat to grab everyone’s attention again before beginning. “My children, today we gather to partake in an ancient and sacred ritual for dragonkind. During my battle with Ninazu I was outmatched, outnumbered. Our battle was difficult, and I only succeeded because my late husband, Apsu, had weakened Ninazu before his untimely death. The world was still frozen, thousands of Ninazu’s snow serpents still prowled the snow covered wastes, and most painfully… I was alone. Mortal life was nearly snuffed out, and many no longer trusted me, as they viewed the state of the world as a betrayal on my part. I knew I alone could not bring the world back from the brink, and I needed company, so I found some of the few mortals who still loved and cherished me and turned them into dragons.”
A titanic hand lowered down and placed something atop the altar at the center of the ziggurat. “I created a chalice of my own horn and filled it with my own blood, my very essence, and offered for them to drink their fill. When they finished they grew to new size, their skin hardened into scale, and their bellies filled with the fire the world needed in its darkest and coldest moment. They flew out into the cold dark and carved the ice away to reveal the world beneath again, and so the first generation of dragons were born. Just as I transformed the first dragons and made them my children, they held the same power within themselves to create their own offspring, so that our family could grow, and thrive, and make the world a brighter, warmer place. Today it is this memory and goal that we honor. My children, step forwards and introduce those who you would induct.”
Amjazel stepped forward and nudged Arxet with a wing. “I, Amjazel, daughter of Tiamat, would induct Arxet into our family.”
The pink dragon with the two chosen stepped forwards. “I, Impisio, son of Yarterex, would induct Layna and Brin into our family.”
And finally the green dragon with the old woman stepped forward. “I, Verdigris, daughter of Ytaris, would induct Anecia into our family.” Oh, so that’s what Verdigris and Tiamat were talking about? He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
Tiamat lowered herself down to make eye contact with each dragon-to-be in turn. “Arxet, Layna, Brin, and Anecia. I welcome you all into this family. My love will be with you until the day this world fades as an ember in a bonfire.” Somehow Arxet actually almost believed it. “Amjazel, as the eldest you may step forwards first.” She rose high above them all again with an… excited look? Dragon expressions were still difficult to determine.
Amjazel strode confidently toward the dais at the center before wrapping her body around it and looking to Arxet expectantly. He struggled to make the fist step. Everyone was looking at him. These were his last steps as a ratfolk, in the body he was born in, the body he’d known his entire life. His heart beat so loud he could hear it pounding in his ears.
A warm hand wrapped around his. Emren gave him a comforting smile. “Hey, come on. Remember what I promised you. I’ll walk with you.”
He made the first step and nearly collapsed as his legs trembled, but Emren kept him upright with a firm hand. He’d almost forgotten how impossibly strong she was. Would he be even stronger soon? He made the second step. Who would he pick as a rider? He hated everyone at that academy. Third step. Was this a mistake?
No.
It was the only question crossing his mind that he had a definitive answer for. All the other questions about came next were irrelevant. They would come later. This was the right choice.
He took a third step, and a fourth, and a fifth, until finally he was at the altar with Amjazel. “Are you ready, little one?” Her thoughts were like a whisper. She seemed worried about scaring him away.
“I’m ready.”
“Take the chalice.”
He stepped forwards to the altar, now clear of tea cups and snacks. Now, instead, a single chalice mounted upon rough iron, carved from the tip of a dragon horn, sat. Waiting. He wrapped his hands around the base and lifted. The thing must have weighed fifty pounds. He struggled to bring it out from under the pavilion to Amjazel. She took a single claw and dug it under her scales along her right foreleg and angled it so a single gallon sized drop of blood would splash down into the chalice below. It coated Arxet’s hands and chest as it sloshed out of the container, the viscous fluid was burning hot. He nearly dropped the chalice. Tiamat lowered herself down from above again and tapped one of her claws to the chalice, and runes began to glow along the side: the symbols for fire and sky.
“Drink.” Amjazel commanded- no- invited him.
His lips and tongue burned as he thrust the chalice to his lips. It scalded him like fire but he couldn’t have enough. It was coppery and sweet and filled her with warmth. The thick liquid coated her entire front as she tipped the chalice back too quickly in her haste burning every inch it touched. As the last droplets fell upon her tongue tremors wracked her. She barely stopped herself from dropping the horn and fumbled it back onto the altar as her legs and arms began to go limp.
Her flesh and bone was in the midst of a rapid and violent transition. Agony and numbness alternated and pulsed across her. Wings began to sprout from her back, her skin felt as if it were tearing and shredding as they extended and flexed of their own volition. Her mouth opened to scream and a roar came out instead. Parts of her vision became obscured as her muzzle extended and changed shape, a pair of horns crested at the top edge of her field of view. Cold pierced through her and chilled her to the bone. She’d never felt so cold, not even in the blizzard that burned her cold mark onto her brow.
The transformation finally slowed and eventually stopped as the final changes began to set. She was coiled tight with her wings and tail tucked close to her stomach to fight the freezing feeling that had permeated her, but… as she started to come to the cold began to feel natural, not unpleasant.
With considerable embarrassment she realized that Amjazel had wrapped her tail and wings around her to shield her from the eyes of the other dragons and dragons-to-be and was… purring? Despite her embarrassment of the dragon’s doting she felt… safe, secure. She hated it.
“You are beautiful...” Amjazel’s voice drifted into her thoughts like a sweet scent on the wind. “… my darling daughter.”