every aspect of his dragon nature. Thigocia slept next to him, her long neck curled around the base of his. The scales on his other side begged for sunlight, but he didn’t want to turn over and awaken his mate. As close to death as she had come during the months of darkness, she needed sleep as much as she needed the sun’s precious energy.
A loud trumpet blast sounded from the water’s edge. Makaidos lifted his head toward the ark. Japheth and Shem were leading the elephants through Eve’s door, the new calf following close behind. The male trumpeted a second time, as if saluting the bright rainbow that painted the misty clouds to the west.
Makaidos sighed. The rainbow promised a spectrum of joy, each color representing a different bliss in the new paradise. The sun poured down warmth from a clean, clear sky, baking virgin earth that yearned to sprout new offspring from her cleansed womb. The rich soil carried no trace of footprints from either man or demon. Every Watcher and Naphil had perished, and the world now held no memory of their corruption. The weary souls on the ark seemed refined by fire, rejoicing in each moment, bouncing with every step on the newly purged earth.
Resting his head on Thigocia’s abdomen, Makaidos listened for signs of life within a gurgle, a click, a soft hum that played in Makaidos’s mind like a glorious hymn. He closed his eyes and smiled. Maybe this world would be a safe place for dragon younglings after all.
As he tried to sleep, dozens of noises disturbed the quiet parrots squawking, cattle mooing, even the buzzing of a bee in his ear. Still, one odd sound rose above the others. He perked up his ears. A haunting voice blew by, like a ghost whispering a song in the breeze.
The chill of danger swept across his scales. He raised his head again. A stream of dark mist flowed across both dragons. Curling around his snout like a translucent python, the mist wrapped his face and shrouded his eyes. Makaidos leaped to his feet and thumped his tail. “Thigocia!” he shouted. “Awake!”
The ground vibrated, and Thigocia’s voice rumbled. “What is this darkness?”
“A mist. Something wicked.”
“I thought I felt a presence, but I could not be sure.”
“Listen,” Makaidos said. “It sings.”
“Shall I call for help?”
“Shh!”
Both dragons fell silent. Makaidos concentrated on the whispered aria, a lilting melody that played like a fresh breeze on tender grass.
Your heart of gold should never fear
Arrival of the dawn,
For each new day shall bring new hope
As moon begets the sun.
Erase your mind, O dragon wise,
And let your gates be breached.
The time has come to greet new thoughts
Your maker failed to teach.
For wisdom comes when laws of old
Are swept like spiders’ webs,
And minds like yours discover truth
In life’s new flows and ebbs.
For how can wisdom’s laws be true
When taught from books to squires?
Experience stands as wisdom’s tool
To guide you through the mire.
O let me in to teach you songs
That come from heaven’s lights.
You’ll never fail to conquer foes
And rule o’er kings and knights.
For man corrupts and soils his own;
The world will die again.
His lust for blood and gold and flesh
Destroys what dragons mend.
Makaidos clenched his eyes shut and pawed at the streaming mist. “Do not listen! It sings foul words!”
“Too late. I heard every syllable.”
“Then do not heed them!”
“I knew that much! But how do we get rid of the mist? It is blinding me!”
“Close your eyes!” Makaidos shot a blast of hot gasses in the direction of Thigocia’s voice. “Can you see now?”
“Yes! Your turn!”
Makaidos kept his eyes closed while hot air, smelling of burning sulfur, bathed his face. His vision cleared, and a wisp of black fog brushed by his ear, singing one last phrase before streaming toward the sea. “I will be back for your son.”
Makaidos blasted a flood of fire at the retreating blackness, but it was too late. The fog danced over the water and disappeared like evaporating mist. “If you dare come back,” the dragon bellowed, “I will melt your songs into screams of agony!” He turned to Thigocia. “Any harm done?”
“No. No song could ever turn my heart from the Maker.”
“Did you hear anything else, I mean, after the song?”
“No. Only the song.” Thigocia nudged Makaidos’s wing and snuggled under it. “What did you hear?”
Makaidos glared at the island’s shore. “Just a bully’s taunt. Malicious words are just noises in the wind.” He extended his wing over Thigocia’s body and stroked her flank. “With