Kaelen and the Dream Beneath Varaan's Horn

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Night fell over the camp like a heavy veil. Kaelen had just finished feeding Varaan when she noticed something was wrong. His breathing was deeper, heavier than usual, and lines she'd never seen before glowed across his slate-colored skin. Beneath his mighty horns, runes flared, ancient, as if carved by long-forgotten hands. Varaan tilted his head to the side, and before Kaelen could touch him, he fell into a sleep that was more like a spell than rest. "No…" she whispered, her fingers brushing over the glowing symbols. Warmth burned beneath them, an echo of magic that wasn't hers. She felt the dragon being drawn deeper and deeper into something—and with it, the bond that bound their hearts. Then she heard it: a voice that didn't come from the world. "Step in if you wish to save him." Kaelen didn't hesitate. She closed her eyes, rested her forehead against Varaan's horn, and let herself fall. The world tilted, and when she opened them, she stood on a plain of shimmering sand, above which hung a sky of dreams. Every cloud there was a memory, every gust of wind a whisper. In the distance rose a mountain range that seemed formed from Varaan himself—his scales as rocks, his wings as shadows. "Varaan?" Her voice echoed over the dream, but instead of an answer came only a distant rumble. She knew: he was here, but trapped. She led the way, and the sand transformed into scenes beneath her feet. There she saw Varaan once breaking from the egg—alone, without his mother, in a cave whose walls cracked with cold. Then another image: Varaan bound by chains, while masked men examined him as if he were merely a tool. Kaelen clenched her fists. The images led her ever deeper into his inner being until she came to a lake. The water was black, but in the depths it shone golden. On the surface, Varaan floated, as if lost in sleep, and above him, runes circled like moons. "This is it," whispered Kaelen. She knelt down, reached into the cold water—and was pulled under. There, in the depths, she saw not only Varaan. She also saw herself. Kaelen touching his scales for the first time. Kaelen flying on his back. But also something else: a thread of light flowing from her heart into his. "It was never an accident," said a voice that sounded like Varaan, yet was older, deeper. "We have been connected since before you knew who you were. My sleep is the mirror of your fear. If you want to save me, you must accept yourself." Kaelen felt the runes settle on her body, as if testing her strength. The burden was heavy, yet she refused to let go. "You are not alone," she cried. "Not anymore." The gold in the water flared, and Varaan opened his eyes. He was free—because she was.