2 - 7

"Everything that comes together falls apart. Everything. The chair I'm sitting on. It was built, and so it will fall apart. I'm gonna fall apart, probably before this chair. And you're gonna fall apart. The cells and organs and systems that make you you—they came together, grew together, and so must fall apart. The Buddha knew one thing science didn't prove for millennia after his death: Entropy increases. Things fall apart."

― John Green

Hey guys!!! I hope you like how this book is going so far and that you like this chapter! I love these characters and (even if there doesn't seem to be a lot of you) I really appreciate everything who reads this, too! This book is going to be a good chunk over 50k - - which is a little mind boggling to me, since I had just as much fun writing it as I did my 300k book - - but feels a lot shorter than that, especially since it's broken into two parts.

Love you all, please stay safe and keep hydrated :))

Part Two - Chapter Seven

"The Golden Dragon's blank Witch"

"I still love you and I'm starting to see why," Stray admits.

His voidwalker pauses. "Your heart's always been too big for you."

He wakes up before he can reply.

-——-——-

Traveling isn't as boring as he thought it would be.

There's just so much to see, so much he never even thought about before.

Waterfalls and towns so small that if you sneezed, you'd probably miss it—there's trees so tall the tips cut into clouds and clouds so small that they disappear into mist and water droplets against his scales when Stray slams into them. Sometimes, there are animales none of them have names for and little insects with shiny wings or too many legs. He's curious about it all and happy to explore from the ground to the sky.

The places they stop in are always bustling with people, all different kinds with all different sorts of magic twisting around them. There's so many colors, so many new smells and feelings. Different accents or words or families.

It's beautiful and the sunrises never look the same.

They meet another phoenix, a tall woman with dark skin and a lovely little butcher shop, and about fifty nature witches like Ozzy (though, never as strong as the one in his coven). They don't, however, see any other dragons.

Stray's a bit sad but he knew that he wouldn't; creatures like him are rare, to meet another one would be a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he already had that with Atlas.

A week goes by and the direction of the spell never really changes.

Wherever his voidwalker is staying, they're not moving very far from it.

It's a bit worrying but he doesn't say anything, the youngling content to just go about the days following the bond and falling asleep half-anxious for them to visit.

It's not so bad. The wait isn't too good, though.

He's glad his family is with him.

He couldn't imagine a world where he is going through this alone—a world where he never met Athanasius, never found a hoard, almost seems to be impossible to him. But to have never had him, or Oz, or Ras, to know that someone or something is missing from him so completely...

It would change everything; him, the world, this life.

His leg wouldn't have ever been healed properly and, no matter how long he would have lived, it would have been him only as a dragon, forever locked away from one half of his being. It would be cold winters and scarce summers, would have been living in fear of an old coven that never would have been crushed underneath his dad's rage.

The thought of trying to find the voidwalker alone seems cruel in comparison.

The thought of being alone is even worse.

-——-——-

They're in front of the large window again.

The sun looks brighter this time but the hallway around them is darker.

His voidwalker is humming, side resting against the wall's edge and Stray resting against their other side. Both of their hands are clasped together, squished slightly between their bodies but neither cares.

They're holding hands because they want to be close, to trick themselves as if it would be enough, but the golden dragon knows it's not.

Neither of them are warm.

Neither of them can truly touch the other.

When Stray had been complaining about it again, about not having the ability to truly hug the other, his witch had asked: when is close close enough for you?

When it stops aching, he had replied.

They didn't have anything to say to that and just tightened their arm around him. Stray sighed, it's always like this—they shy away when he says anything a bit too honest. A bit too hurt.

It's not very often, because half of the time they do just sit there talking softly about nothing that matters, and for even more of the time they're just staring at him.

It's not bad, in truth.

At least now he has the voidwalker here to be with him, even if it's not face-to-face. Yet.

"What would you do," he asks, because he has to know, "if I found you?"

"You won't." The reply was so confident he almost laughed.

"But if I did?"

"Well, uh... I suppose I'd give you that hug you're always complaining about, star."

"Would you be mad, though? That I found you, I mean, even when you don't want me to."

"Hm," they tapped their fingers on his arm. He only knows because he's looking. "I think I'd be upset, because I still think us being together is dangerous, but I miss you. I'd be... happy."

"Really?" Stray tilts his head, relief flooding him like a tidal wave. "And you'd—would you stay with me?"

"Stay... with you?" They questioned, fingers pausing. The golden dragon nodded and moved closer. It's not enough to trick his mind into giving him the comfort of touch. "What do you mean? Stay with you where?"

"If I found you, would you come back home with me?"

"In your—house?"

"Yes..." He wrinkles his nose. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"You just don't talk about it," his witch shrugs. "I know you're safe but uh, I didn't know you had like, a proper home, dude."

"You're an idiot," Stray decides.

"Rude," they sigh, hesitating just a bit before asking: "Is it only you, in this home?"

The youngling hesitates, too. "No, it's—I got adopted? I guess."

"You... guess."

"My dad, he's a dragon, too." He says. "I was fucking terrified when they found me a couple years back and..."

For the rest of their time together, and the next couple dreams after that, Stray explains his coven and how he came to be with them. He talks about Athanasius and how kind Ozzy is—trying really hard to explain that this witch is nice, too—and how hard Ras makes him laugh sometimes.

He shares memories and moments and all those silly little realizations he had. The ones about being wanted, about touch not hurting, about everything and anything.

His witch is quiet for most of it, just taking in the information.

They don't have much to say but, in a voice barely above a whisper, they confess that his family sounds lovely and that he's grateful they helped the golden dragon.

Stray asks but... they don't have anyone.

The confirmation of what he feared broke his heart just a bit.

-——-——-

They're close.

They're really, really close to the voidwalker.

They're walking now, all of them, because Atlas kept just flying in big circles around an old, worn down town, and the youngling kept having him turn around because the bond would shove him this way or that.

By the time they figure out exactly which building the youngling is getting pulled towards, it's well into the night, and the coven decides it's best to just camp out.

Both apprehension and excitement thread through Stray's chest in waves.

He can't wait to see the voidwalker, but he knows that nighttime is not a good time to sneak up on anyone, but he also knows that sunrise is only a few hours away, but a few hours is a long time so he doesn't want to wait, but he's tired so he should sleep but—

Oziamon gives him some lavender and chamomile tied around a malachite, a small enchantment attached to the herbs to make him fall asleep.

Ten years ago, he would've never imagined that he would have a family, would have someone to be with, to love and be loved by. Ten years ago, he would have never imagined that he would be safe, that he would have a protector, that he would have someone who makes him feel relaxed and happy. Ten years ago, the idea that Astraeus would be wanted was impossible.

Ten years ago, he had no memory of anything soft or warm or gentle. It was all cold hands, harsh blows, and icy chains. It was fear and isolation, abuse and insomnia and bruises he thought would never heal.

Ten years ago, or past that, he lost all memory of his witch.

Now he's so close to getting it back.

He accepts the herbs, curls up next to his dad in his dragon form, and sleeps.