Epilogue

Epilogue

 

Andria lay on the musky, queen-sized bed, staring up at the spackled ceiling. What have I done? she thought to herself. From atop the chest of drawers, a cheap T.V. projected horrifying images and amateur video footage of Mt. Fuji collapsing in a cloud of dust and fire. The casualties had been unfathomable. Thousands. The timing couldn’t have been worse. At the break of dawn, the mountain had fallen, when innumerable hikers and tourists had been huddled cozily at the summit, waiting for a glimpse of first-light from above the clouds.

Andria blinked away a tear that threatened to dismantle her façade of cool composure. What had been, perhaps, the worst part of the whole matter, was the way in which, in a matter of minutes, the secret that the Race had managed to keep and protect for millennia had been shattered. The same video footage showing the fall of the mighty mountain also betrayed the fall of the Race’s carefully guarded secrecy, as Dragons had fled from the rubble and taken to the air. What have I done?

The door of the hotel room opened, revealing Yuta. He carried a tray of four Styrofoam coffee cups and a paper bag bearing the logo of a popular burger chain. He appeared unsettlingly calm. A part of her wanted to resent him for this, but honestly, she hadn’t the energy. And what good was it to panic or mourn at this delicate point? The dust had not yet cleared. The time for action had passed, but without knowing the full reach of the aftermath, they could not move forward.

Yuta sat down on the bed next to Andria. He handed her a cup of coffee before placing the tray and remaining three cups on top of the dresser. “When you’re ready,” he said quietly, “I have breakfast.”

Silence stretched between them as the two both sat and sipped their coffee. Each wanted to avoid talking about what had passed and what was to come, but both knew that the need to discuss their position was pressing.

It was Andria who finally broke the silence. “What happens, now?” she whispered, her hand shaking slightly as she took another sip, sloshing a few drops of coffee onto her robe.

“Now,” Yuta stated gently, “we hide.”

Andria looked at him, her eyes swimming with tears. Guilt, regret, and self-loathing were all beginning to surface as the tears no longer afforded containment.

“I won’t lie,” Yuta leveled, “this is bad. We, the Race, have been trying to avoid this situation for over a millennium. But,” he sighed wanly, “we knew it would happen, eventually.”

At this, Andria glanced at him, eyes red from crying, and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Dragons were never meant to live in hiding,” Yuta mused soberly. “ We were made to be kings.”

“What?” she whispered, not quite understanding where Yuta was going.

“It was the natural order from the beginning that Dragons would rule over humans. But we gave up the throne,” he added with an air of disgust, “to avoid a war.”

“I don’t understand,” Andria admittedly flatly, shaking her head and brushing a tear from her cheek.

“Andria,” Yuta continued matter-of-factly, “Dragons are loathed by man-kind. You know this. We’re despised. Feared. Now that things are coming out in the open, everything is going to go back to the way it once was.”

Andria shot him a sulky, inquisitive look.

“War,” he stated ominously.

Andria scoffed. “How can you possibly know that? I mean,” she stammered, “can’t they-“ she caught herself, “can’t we go back into hiding? I mean, people are bound to forget about it eventually. And you’ve hid pretty well all of this time, right?”

Yuta shook his head dismissively. “Think about it. Just look at your media. Any time something more powerful than humans comes along, what happens? War. Aliens, vampires, werewolves. There are countless movies that show exactly what stance the humans will take when an army of creatures that already have a fearsome reputation rears its head. And,” he continued, “even if that weren’t so, this was foretold years ago.”

“By who?” Andria demanded absently.

“Sakura.” The reaction was instantaneous. Andria choked on the gulp of coffee she had been trying to swallow and gaped at him with wide, surprised eyes. “Sakura ventured into the future one time over a century ago,” Yuta elaborated. “Whatever she witnessed there drove her to flee Japan. She wouldn’t tell me everything, but she did say ‘war.’ I was young, and I admired her very much. It thrilled me that she chose to confide in me,” he admitted nostalgically, “so I agreed to help her escape from under Kazi’s nose. Yenko bound the minds of every Dragon in Fuji at the time, while Sakura fled and boarded a ship. She never told me where she would go, and she was right not to confide in me. They could have found her, then. But once Kazi found out what Yenko and I had done, he wanted to kill us. But the other Lords intervened. We were banished to the north, instead. I chose Towada in hopes that she might come back someday, return to the place where the gods had first appeared to her. And then you showed up.” Yuta took a long swig of coffee while Andria let his words sink in.

After a very long moment of complete silence, in which Andria muddled over Yuta’s words, he spoke, “It’s coming, the war, whether we’re ready for it or not. Battle lines will be drawn, and you, happa, will need to choose a side.”

“Happa?” Andria asked, confused.

“Halfling.”

Andria smiled weakly, despite the war that was already beginning to rage in her mind.

 

 

Yamagata, Japan

 

      “My fellow Lords,” began Misaki. She looked out over the heads of the remaining Lords and the few citizens mixed in with them, the survivors, all bathed in shadow and ash. A racking sob pierced the silence of the cavern, magnified by hollow echoes. Some sniffled. Some shivered. Some whimpered like beaten dogs. “We have been betrayed,” she whispered ominously.

      Misaki walked among them, a serpentine panther prowling through a jungle of death, despair and uncertainty. “We have been outed by one of our very own,” she continued. Her voice rose so she was shouting over them, at the frigid air. She could see her hot breath misting in front of her. “We must not make light of today’s losses,” her voice wavered slightly, “in blind pursuit of peace. Those among us who fell at the hands of Yuta Odashima and the false heir, the pretender, Andria, they deserve justice.” There were a few muffled growls of assent and anger. “But not today,” she added. Silence fell. “Today, we face an old enemy. Today, we stand and fight for the throne the very gods say belongs to us!” she shouted, her voice growing shrill. More growls and roars erupted from the crowd. “No more will the Race hide like dogs and serve as the dark puns of Man’s fairytales. No more will we live under the façade of humanity! We are Dragons! We are kings!” she bellowed. “And we will rule.”

      At this, Lord Tsuchino spoke up. “What you speak of, Lord Misaki,” he said, “is war.” The dull green of his scales was caked with red dust. His right claw, bloody and broken, he held protectively across his chest. He continued, “Do you really mean to lead the Race into open rebellion against the humans?”

      “What other option do we have?” Misaki asked, not to Lord Tsuchino, but to the whole crowd. None of the twenty or so Dragons offered an answer. “Our secret is out. They have proof, and mark my words,” Misaki added darkly, “they will hunt us. They will find our homes. They will take our children. They will slay us…” she paused, allowing the weight of her prophecy to sink in, “unless we fight.”

      “Need I remind you,” Tsuchino rebutted, “that the humans outnumber us a thousand to one. By beginning a rebellion, we’re only making ourselves easy targets.” He turned to the other Dragons. “They have weapons, powerful weapons. They will only destroy us faster if we allow ourselves to be lured out in the open by nothing more than a hunger for revenge.” This earned a couple nods and mumbles. “We can go back into hiding. We can immerse ourselves back into society without them being any the wiser. They do not yet know that we are able to disguise ourselves!”

      “Coward!” Misaki roared at Tsuchino. “This is not about revenge!” Her voice was like thunder. “This is about restoring the natural order! This is about fulfilling our god-given purpose! I will not pretend that I do not crave revenge,” she admitted, “but I dare any Dragon here to come forward and say that they would not also welcome it. They killed our king!” Misaki shouted, her voice cracking. “They killed our queen!” She struggled to keep her voice steady. Now was not the time for grief. Now was the time for rallying. “Such crimes deserve vengeance.”

      “Do you, Lord Misaki,” Tsuchino continued, his eyes growing wide, “mean to imply that Lords Kazi and Mayumi have fallen?” Whispers broke out among the crowd.

      “They did not emerge when the mountain fell,” she hissed. “Either they are dead, or they are captured.”

      “Or they are still trapped!” Tsuchino’s shrill voice proclaimed. “Would you, their daughter, not rather be working to retrieve them, instead of rallying a grieving, wary following into a purposeless war?”

      “If they still have a prayer of living,” Misaki asserted, “then the humans’ rescue teams will find them. In the meantime, however, I am obligated to assume the position of Queen of the Race of Eastern Asia, and as such, I proclaim our kingdom to be in a state of war.”

      Lord Tsuchino said nothing else. “From here,” continued Misaki, turning back to the crowd, “the road will be long and perilous. We will call on our brothers to the east and west. We will rally an army from the highest mountains and the depths of the seas. They will come. They will come, and together, we can fight!” she roared. “Together, we can win!”