Ch. 4: Crystor
The massive dragon landed gracefully on the ice, folding its wings against its sides. It arched its long serpentine neck and gazed down at the assembly. James could hardly take his eyes off the magnificent creature; even though the dragon towered over him, he felt no fear, only awe.
The dragon's blue scales were the same shade of a clear winter morning and the crystals that made up its crested mane extended down its spine all the way to the end of its long tail. The folded wings were no one color; they shimmered white and silver, with speckles of blue, green, and pinks.
His wings are the same color as the snow. The dragon lowered its head, meeting James's brown eyes with orbs like twin moons.
"Well, hello there, little one," the dragon rumbled, his deep voice rich and soothing.
"H… hello, sir," James replied, knowing how small he sounded next to the dragon.
"You must be James," the dragon said, his huge lips curving upward.
"Yes," the little boy replied. "I.. I'm sorry, but I don't know your name."
A deep rumbling came from deep inside the dragon and steam spiraled up from his nostrils. James felt a flash of fear, thinking the dragon was growling. But the dragon's smile didn't waver and James realized that the dragon was laughing.
"I would have been surprised if you did know my name, little James," the dragon said kindly. "I doubt there is a human alive today who still knows of me. I am Crystor of the North, Dragon of the Winter Solstice."
"Then, the winter solstice is magical!" James burst out in amazement.
"Oh quite so, little one. Though it is rare that a human is able to witness just how much magic is alive in the world today." Crystor paused, thinking. "I believe it's been at least ten hundred years since I last conversed with a human."
"You're ten hundred years old?" James asked. Once more, the dragon rumbled with laughter and quite a few of the other creatures joined in as well.
"It is true that those with magic in their blood live for years on end. But I, James, am immortal. I always have been and always will be."
"But how come no one has seen you? Or anyone else here?" James asked, glancing around at the various mythical creatures.
"Ah, child, that's not the way magic works," Crystor explained. "You see, belief in magic is, at first, very easy. But in order to see, hear, or experience magic, that belief must stay strong throughout the good and the bad."
James fell silent. For the second time that night, his mind flashed back to his life with his aunts. He remembered how Spiker and Sponge had shrieked at him for harboring "stupid dreams" and how foolish he was for daring to believe in a better life than the one he had. And yet, something in him refused to give up, refused to stop believing. James looked back up at the dragon and saw that Crystor's eyes were filled with warmth.
"Your belief is what made it possible for that man to give you magical aid. And it was that same belief that allowed you to meet with Aarion."
"Aarion?" The winged horse who had flown James through the sky whinnied softly and James to look at him and the other horses.
"He and his brethren are the descendants of the great Pegasus," Crystor explained. "Indeed, many of the great myths of old were not myth, but, in fact, flesh and blood creatures."
James paused, then gathered up his courage and asked,
"But, if you're immortal, Crystor, then how come hardly anyone has seen you? Or even wrote a legend about you?" Inwardly, James winced. He could already spot the flaws in his question. After all, he was only seven years old; maybe there was a legend about the mighty dragon and he hadn't come across it yet.
Crystor raised his head and spread his shimmering wings. A light flap sent millions of sparkling snowflakes tumbling through the air; James felt them land on his face and in his hair, like the confetti that had been thrown on the night of his and his family's arrival to New York.
"Ah, little James," Crystor said. "I was not meant to be seen by humans, hence why it has been so long since I've spoken with you. You see, I have a very special responsibility to the world." The gathered creatures murmured and nodded in agreement.
"Magic has always belonged to the realm of dreams. After all, one night's dream can inspire some one to undertake an amazing task, though I think you know that better than most, little one." James smiled and nodded, knowing what Crystor meant.
"Thus," the dragon continued, "on the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, I send my snows over the world, sending all those who encounter it into a deep sleep for the night. And it is one this night that the greatest dreams are dreamt, the night the most magic touches the world. And thus, after tonight, life begins anew and with the dawning of longer days comes the dawning of a new year for mankind to achieve those dreams."
"And it's because of your snow," James concluded. "Because of you, there's still magic."
"No, child. Because of me, there are magical dreams. Because of people like you, those dreams come true. And that, James, that is magic."
Crystor gaze his wings another flap, sending down another wave of enchanted snowflakes.
"Now," he rumbled. "We are all assembled. So let us begin the celebration of the winter solstice!"