Day in the story: 17th December (Wednesday)
I sat on that bench for about fifteen minutes, watching Penrose’s crew pitch a temporary camp consisting of tents, antennas, radios, laptops. They even lay out a periter with ard guards. It was a transit spot; Penrose would feed more people in as he was ready. Made sense.
I figured they wouldn’t stick around long; their target was elsewhere. I also got bored and rested enough to let them do their thing without my oversight. I left only a couple of well-placed eye-cards tucked in the roof eaves of the building I sat by. Small insurance, so they wouldn’t do anything stupid, and so nothing would happen to them that’d blow back on . Both outcos were no-nos.
I hadn’t had ti to sit idle even if I’d wanted to. There was an investigation to start, etings to schedule. But first, sothing I’d been thinking about since we ran through this place earlier. I wanted a coiling, eel-like dragon.
Yes. One Dragon please.
It looked glorious back then, and having a pet like that would finally make feel like a mage instead of a knock-off artist pretending to be one.
The problem was: how.
I moved through the streets as the place finally stirred awake with the sunlight, or rather a sunlight, coming from the side, since the other city was still overhead. How the light managed to spill down here instead of being swallowed by that looming shadow? Ask soone else. I wasn’t even going to pretend to know.
The shadows around moved with purpose. People chatting on their way, kids chasing a leathery ball or trudging off to what sounded like school. This place breathed. It wasn’t so fantasy set piece frozen in ti, it was lived in.
And despite Ideworld’s wonder, I didn’t feel like wandering aimlessly. So I picked soone who looked like she might actually know what was what here.
She was seated at a restaurant table, waiting for her order. A paper umbrella shaded her from the soft winter sun, which was very mild in its approach to burning anything. She wore a fur coat, green and blue streaks trimd with beads of red and orange that tinkled softly in the breeze. Her face was lined, wrinkled, spotted, but her black, wide-rimd sunglasses gave her a curious dignity, even this early.
What truly stopped , though, was the antler sprouting from her forehead, like a deer’s, branching, but alive with autumn leaves. Gold, copper, rust-red. Even a few tiny white blossoms had blood along the ridges.
She looked like a sage. And if Ideworld had taught anything, it was that appearance here ca from sothing deeper, sothing rooted in the soul. If I was going to ask anyone, it would be her.
“Excuse ,” I said. “Can I steal a sliver of your ti for a few questions?”
She turned, slid off her glasses, and revealed eyes that were entirely white. I hadn’t expected her to be blind.
“Of course.” Her voice was soft, English, but with a cadence that had sounded Cantonese in my head. Fine by . As long as I understood her. “How can I help you, child?”
“I’m looking for a dragon,” I said. “A small, serpent-like flyer I saw people walking around with. Do you know where I can get one?”
“There are a few breeders here. Yù Lóng Xuān is the closest. The creature is called Lóng.” She spoke like soone who’d lived a hundred lifetis. Maybe all the shadows here were like her and I’d never bothered to listen. Sophie’s shadow had been surprisingly normal too. Then again, there were plenty who seed like drones.
“Can I ask sothing else?” I added, trying to settle a question that’d been nagging .
“Try .”
“Why do so people here act like they’re not really here?”
“What do you an?” she asked.
“I an those who look like they’re mindless. Driving, watching TV, doing nothing. It’s like they’re pretending to live.”
“That’s an odd question. Do you an drifting?”
“Like their minds just… slip away?”
“Yes. Everyone does it when they’re doing sothing that doesn’t need much thought. You don’t?”
“Let’s say I’m new here. I usually sleep.”
“Sleep? I don’t know what sleep is.” She sounded genuinely puzzled.
“It’s when you close your eyes and what feels like a second turns into a lot more ti.”
“That sounds awful. Are you sick, child? That’s why you can’t drift?” Her concern hit harder than I expected. For a second I felt worse about all the shadows I’d killed. They weren’t mindless, at least not always. Drifting sounded almost... nicer than sleep.
“No, I’m fine. I ca from sowhere where drifting isn’t normal and sleeping is.” I smiled weakly. “Thanks for the help.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” she asked.
“Just directions for this establishnt you ntioned.”
“It’s just down this street. You won’t miss it. From what I’ve heard, the Lóngs are on full display in there.”
I patted her shoulder. “Thank you.”
Then I moved on, deeper into the dream-streets, feeling both lighter and guiltier at the sa ti.
It turned out I was right. People had been shrugging off shadows as if they were props, easier on the conscience, or maybe just seed true. But they weren’t props. They had their own biology, their own culture, shaped by the world that birthed them.
Were they even born the sa way? Do won here get pregnant when their Earth counterparts do? What if they don’t share the sa partners, or have no partner at all in this place? Wow. That thought made my head spin.
I shoved the idea away. Strange enough. Fascinating too. Maybe one day I’d figure it out. Just not today. Please let it not be Today.
Moving away from the sage woman, I finally gave myself permission to focus on the wonder around . Those strange intricacies of how Ideworld reshaped even the simplest things it borrowed from Earth. A trash bin, for instance. Half-translucent, as if trying to disappear from sight or perhaps trying convinced by people to see itself as invisible. And trash still littered the ground around it: soda cans, wrappers, scraps. It looked full, but what it emanated wasn’t waste so much as a hollow ache, the impression of discarded mories and forgotten needs. Such a bizarre thing.
I drifted on, watching the people instead. Shadows, yes—but I could never again call them just shadows. They were people in their own right, with thoughts and lives that only looked illusory because of their drifting, their peculiar version of sleep.
One woman, middle-aged and unhurried, carried grocery bags brimming with vegetables, balanced not on two arms, but three, the third sprouting neatly from beneath her left armpit. Across the street, a man half-slithered, his body bending with reptilian elasticity as he rooted through one of those ghostly bins, devouring scraps the instant he found them. A boy walked past carrying a Go board—monochro, black and white—and the lack of color extended to his whole self. Skin, clothes, even hair, all bleached of hue.
Fantastic.
Unusual numbers of people lingered outside, drifting. So swept idly at their doorsteps, others stared into nothing from benches, tossing breadcrumbs to the pigeyeons. The birds were everywhere here, a plague of fluttering, greedy shapes.
I followed the narrow street to where the old woman had directed . She hadn’t exaggerated, this dragon nursery was impossible to miss. A pagoda, but warped into sothing reptilian: roof tiles glistening like scales, dragon embroidery curling across the railings and walls. Even before I touched the door, the sll of seared at and smoke pressed against . A fire hazard waiting to happen, especially given that, roof aside, the whole structure was wooden.
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I knocked on pretty massive door. No answer. I eased it open.
Inside was narrow and crowded, a corridor with two glass walls like huge aquariums. Behind each pane were tiny mountain kingdoms: one peak wrapped in rain clouds, the other capped in sharp, snow-white crags. Dozens of Lóngs drifted through those enclosed skies, eel-shaped and graceful, moving like fish through air. Their little fore and hind paws flicked now and then, like they were stepping on invisible stair treads. So lounged by torches along a carved mountain path, others floated as if napping with their eyes open, always watching.
They weren’t huge. About my height when they stretched out, maybe five foot five. But every single one was gorgeous. So had foxlike snouts softened by reptilian scales, a mane of whiskers framing their faces. Fur spotted here and there, scales gleaming like semi-precious stones. Aquamarine, ruby, and jade hues. One of them stole my breath: striped in rainbow bands, orange head rolling into a purple tail, its mane golden and gleaming with a shifting hue along the spine. The tail ended in a tuft, much like a lion’s.
That one was mine.
I knew it the mont I saw it. It rode the air with confidence, looping high, then diving toward the mist below the floor and coming back up with a swallow in its mouth. It moved like it owned the sky.
I watched until it noticed . It glided closer, curiosity written in the slow sway of its body. Fox-cat snout features, long whiskers, slitted eyes that shifted color depending on the light. I pressed a palm to the glass. It hung there in the air, vertical, tail falling like a ribbon. Then, slowly, it put a paw to the pane opposite my hand.
It had presence. It knew how to sell itself.
A person was approaching from a side, their face gleaming with a smile wider than should be possible, entre face looking like a tea pot, narrowed at the top and very wide as it went down toward a chin. Eyes closed, no, scratch that. They were open but very thinly, as if getting the light in was a sin not worth committing. It was hard to tell what gender they were. Their body was covered with a long, intricately woven robe catching the light coming from the mountain top enclosures and reflecting blues, greens and purples along with a white undertones. Each step was asured and entirely silent despite wooden shoes that gave this person at least 10 inches of additional height.
If they knew I could see them, without turning my head toward they didn’t show it at all. Soon they reached my imdiate closeness and turned alongside toward the glass pane, watching those beautiful creatures with in eerie silence for a minute.
Were they waiting for my first move?
“Hello.” I said simply.
“Good day.” The answer ca in an old, raspy, feminine voice. I waited for her to follow up, but none ca.
“I’d like to buy this one.” I pointed at the rainbow-colored Lóng, circling lazily in the air as it munched on a swallow. Its serpentine coils moved like an eel, yet every twitch of its head and paws carried a catlike grace.
“There are certain rules to purchasing a Lóng,” she began. “First, the creature itself must choose you. And as far as I can tell, this little cloud-snake has already made its choice. No objections on that part.”
She drew a long breath and laughed without warning. Rows of sharp teeth flashed, her face shifting for a mont into sothing crocodilian, ready to strike.
“The second rule is the na exchange. You must whisper your true na to the serpent, so it can bond to you.”
“My true na? What does that an, exactly?”
“It is the na by which you recognize yourself. A way for the serpent to recognize you as well.” That… was going to be a problem. Wasn’t it?
“The third rule concerns paynt—”
“You take cash only?” I cut her off, and forced a laugh from her in return.
“We are funded by the mayor. We need no money from you. What I need is a mory, for mory is the seed from which another Lóng is grown.”
“A mory? That sounds… excessive. Will I get to choose which one?”
“No. I will take one.”
“What will it be? Will you take a mory of a person? A place?”
“Whole persons are not so easily lost,” she said. “If you carry many mories of soone, I cannot erase them all. Only one.”
“So, one event from my life?”
“That is how it could be said, yes.” It still sounded daunting, but less terrifying than before.
“Why do you want a Lóng?” she asked. “They are difficult creatures to raise.”
“That’s a fair question.” I hesitated, then admitted, “At first, it was simple, I wanted one because they look incredible, and in my world, there’s no way to ever have one. But with this one… I feel a connection. Maybe it’s the colors, maybe the way it moves. It speaks to on a deeper level. Feels right.”
“A good reason.” She inclined her head. “Co with to my office. I’ll prepare the serpent for the na exchange, if you are still willing that is.”
I felt bad leaving the cloud-serpent as she called it, but I followed the clerk, or custodian, whatever she was. While walking I trailed my hand along the glass for a while. The creature I’d chosen followed my gesture with its eyes until I stopped and pulled my fingers away. Then it went back to munching the poor bird like nothing had happened, like I’d been forgotten too.
We moved in silence down a corridor lined with wooden panes and doors. The room at the end was small and enclosed; I sat opposite a desk while she went to fetch the reptile I’d picked. I was supposed to give it my na. Sounded simple, right? It was not.
I used Alexa May because it was easy, but my legal na is Alexandra May. I’d worn other nas over the years. So many I might have forgotten so without the use of any magic. There was Usagi too, the persona I used when the darker side of my art wanted to speak. That had been my mage na too, but since the mask broke it didn’t feel right anymore.
I was without a proper na.
Anansi, can you chi in a little?
[You want to na you?]
Yes… No… Maybe? Do you think any of my nas is the true one? Shouldn’t I know it when I hear it? I carry the mark of true self after all.
[That’s why you are unsure?]
Maybe. I started to panic. I really didn’t know who I was.
[Calm down. I feel like the na itself doesn’t matter here as much—]
Doesn’t matter? Its whole point is the exchange, girl.
[The point is to make the Lóng recognize you. Focus on how you see yourself and pass that image to the dragon.]
But that image might change. What if it stops recognizing later?
[I bet it will.]
Just a bet?
[I don’t have more.]
Okay. I have nothing more anyway. I’ll trade a mory and a na on a bet.
[You can always just leave.]
Was that ever an option?
[It often is. Wasn’t that a lesson from your Domain? Sotis you can step back, yet you rarely do.]
That’s a good point and one that led to a different conclusion than the one you probably intended for , girl.
The clerk returned then, carrying a glass cage with a golden handle. Inside the cage the Lóng I’d chosen was curled around a jagged rock, wrapped in little clouds like snow. How they kept clouds inside a cage, I had no idea.
She put the cage in the center of the desk and sat behind it without a word.
“How exactly am I supposed to do this?” I asked. No answer ca. I guessed I was ant to figure it out myself.
She’d said to whisper my na to the dragon, so I moved closer, leaned up to the glass, and poked the coiled creature a few tis to grab its attention. It moved slowly at first. Then it stretched like a cat waking from a nap, drifted closer through the air, and stopped with its face against the pane.
I inhaled just enough to carry the whisper.
“My na is Alexandra May,” I said, thinking of myself: soone who won’t give up, who won’t walk away; always wanting more, always trying to see things as they are. Flawed, but willing to fix those flaws. “I am an unbending artist. I am greedy for the thrills of life. I am a truth-seeker. I am a myriad of faults that rejected perfection to keep chasing it.”
The very instant I finished speaking, the Lóng transford into pure shadowlight, its rainbow hues mirroring my own. It coiled in the vague shape of a serpentine dragon, then flowed through the glass itself, sliding straight into .
I felt it settle inside my soul, gliding, soaring, diving, mapping the very fabric of my being. It was warm, comforting, and it carried a mory: an old man’s wife, as she had been in her youth. He couldn’t recall her exact face, but rembered the love that blood when she smiled at him the first ti he greeted her. That mory had birthed this dragon.
Joy and sorrow intertwined, washing over . Joy for the beauty of it, sorrow for the man who had lost it to a Lóng of his own. A small dread crept in, a quiet regret for the mory I was about to surrender.
Finally, as if sensing my discomfort, the creature erged from in its shadowlight form, regaining physical substance just before my eyes. It hovered, coiling gracefully in the air several tis, leaving a faint trail of shadowlight, then settled its frontal paws on my left shoulder, resting its jaw there without a single twitch.
I felt its slow, steady breathing, its warmth despite being a reptile, and I knew its true na, exchanged between us in that silent, intimate mont.
“Hello to you too, Liora, my light,” I whispered.
“I see the bonding of nas is complete. It is ti to pay,” the clerk said, standing. A flicker of temptation surged inside , an urge to teleport away, to steal this magnificent creature without offering anything in return, but I quelled it. This ti, I wanted to follow the rules, as they had been laid before , and so I waited.
She approached, holding a small egg in her hand. It looked almost like a tiny chicken’s egg but with jagged, rock-like protrusions. Its surface shimred in the deep, shifting hues of the ocean at dawn. She extended her palm toward , the egg resting on it.
“Place your hand on this, child. Your Lóng will finish the process.”
“You will, Liora?” I asked my silent companion as I reached for the egg, hesitation threading through my movents. Slowly, I overca it, letting my palm rest atop the delicate shell. The instant I did, Liora leapt to the crown of my head, pressing all four paws gently against it. Then, in a heartbeat, she soared away, carrying a thin golden thread between her claws, embedding it into the egg above the clerk’s palm.
“It is done,” she said calmly, as Liora returned to her perch on my shoulder.
“What? Already? I don’t feel any different,” I said, scanning my thoughts frantically, checking everything I deed important. “Everything seems… in order,” I added, relief creeping into my voice.
“That is natural. You will not feel what has been taken from you, as it was mory itself that has been taken.”
It made sense. Logically, I should have felt dread, but instead, when I looked at the egg, a gentle warmth settled over . Comforting. Safe. It was as if the Lóng had not only claid its part but left a trace of peace behind.
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