The sword point sinks into the cloud, and I'm floating. I'm flying. I'm falling. My eye throbs, the patch sticky with blood against my face. I flail my arms, kick my legs, do anything to try and slow my death. And then I see the red figure across from me, and the world flips again.
Nya.
She's the calm to my storm, my soulmate, the best part of my life, and she's plunging from the sky. I see her in my mind, now, with the hard determined line of her mouth and the furrow of her brow. Warring emotions rise up within me. I'm safe now. But she's not.
"We have to create our dragons!" she cries, and I'm stricken. Can I create a dragon? Can I control my fears? Can I ever be free from my doubts and worries and anxiety?
"I don't have enough energy!" I shout back. I don't know if she hears. I don't know if I want her to hear. To hear my weakness. To hear my limitations, my failings, my faults. Don't tell them the truth. Tell them what they want to hear. But what do you do when she wants the truth, deserves the truth?
"I'm not strong enough!"
The ocean grows closer. I can see the individual waves, the deceptive calm of the sea. Soon, the water will close over my head, dragging me down into their icy depths, into the welcoming arms of death.
"Then we'll be strong together!"
Suddenly, she's at my side. Her hair tangles in the wind, her face is flushed. I see in a moment that she's terrified too. Will this even work? Can we succeed? Can we combine our powers, our spirits, intertwine the elements of water and electricity, emerge victorious? But she's reaching out to me, and I reach out to her.
And then I'm looking into her eyes, and everything is alright. I'm looking into her eyes, and I feel my doubts vanish. I'm looking into her eyes, and she's looking into mine.
And beneath us, a dragon rises.