DRABBLE TWO – THE LAST DRAGONLORD
Drabble Prompt: Wings
Merlin is almost five hundred years old when it occurs to him: there will be no more Dragonlords after him.
It is a truth not easily taken. Immortality was already a hard enough blow; to see all those he loved slowly reduced to dust and memory, never able to join them in the Spirit Realm… But to know too that he will be alone in his eternity?
Surely it's not certain. But for all that he comes to love over the centuries, his loves never bear children.
He throws himself into finding an answer, but no answers come.
No answers, but a change.
It begins with an itch beneath his skin. Bones twinge and ache; his shoulderblades burn every night. Aithusa nuzzles at the area, wordless yet oddly nurturing.
Then, one morning, Merlin's back rips open.
He wakes to blood, but no pain. Instead, he feels strangely light. Unfamiliar muscles twitch. The misty sky beckons.
What is he becoming? Fear wars with wonder at the parchment-thin wings sprouting from his spine. He's turning into something different, something… new. Will eternity really be so lonely if he still has so much of himself to learn?
He takes his first uncertain leap.