Chapter 47: Equal Trade
Misha didn’t have to look for long to find a little stone pagoda. At first, he’d worried that sticking around here would mean running into people (not a good idea in his dragon form, and likely an even worse idea in his naked human form) but from the look of the thing and the place around it, not a soul had been here in decades.
There were layers and layers of moss growing on the curled corners of the roof and the feet of the pillars were soot black with lichen. Crawling over the stone seats under the pagoda’s modest roof were a sea of vines that Misha took a moment to claw back to let Bran sit down. While the journey here hadn’t been difficult for Misha, it had been difficult for Bran and his bare feet, so Misha had told him to ride on his back.
Bran leaned over then slid down the dragon’s side then jumped up onto the stone seat. He spun around then grinned at Misha and the dragon’s heart melted. He was worried - absolutely worried sick - about Bran, but this version of him was too adorable.
The rain was coming down harder now so Misha shook himself off first before stepping in and curling up under the protection of the pagoda. Bran stepped down from the chair and used the hem of his shirt to help dry Misha off.
Misha had been surprised to learn Bran was twenty-six, he acted younger than that, so he’d thought it made a lot of sense when Bran told him about his three ’lost years’, but the Bran now was acting like an even younger child.
Around the age of the children Misha had seen in that vision when he’d touched the sword and cut his mouth on it way back when. And then there were those voices he’d heard when opening the instrument case after Amethyst told him that the sword was a demon blade.
Those voices had wished for blood as well.
Was Bran now possessed by the sword? But why? Hadn’t that boy stolen the sword and taken it far away? Misha hadn’t seen him carrying it earlier when he’d broken in the flat.
The dragon silently watched as Bran started to play with the fluffy tuft at the end of his tail. Normal, adult Bran also liked to play with his tail. Perhaps this Bran was more of a regression than a possession and that thought somewhat calmed Misha’s rattling brain.
If this was just a regression, then, maybe, he could get Bran back again.
The problem was that ’maybe’.