MidReal Story
Silent Savior: Dragon's Harmony
Scenario: A deaf dragon saves the war between dragons and mermaids.
Create my version of this story
Nerissa Maris
mermaid diplomat, initially an enemy turned ally with Elara, iridescent blue scales, diplomatic and cunning.
Elara Thalassia
deaf dragon, friends with other protagonists, sleek silver scales, fiercely intelligent and empathetic.
Theron Pyralis
young dragon prince, Elara's ally and friend, vibrant red scales, brave and impulsive.
I was born deaf, and I’ve always been alone.
I’m the only dragon who can’t hear the music of the spheres, the only one who can’t speak to my kin through our shared song.
But I’m not the only one who’s ever been lonely.
I’m not the only one who’s ever felt like an outsider.
I’m not the only one who’s ever been left behind.
And I’m not the only one who’s ever wished for a friend.
The first time I met Theron Pyralis, he was falling from the sky.
He was just a hatchling, barely old enough to fly, and he’d gotten too close to a storm cloud that had blown in from the east.
The wind had caught his wings and tossed him like a leaf on the breeze, and he’d plummeted toward the ground below.
I was swimming in the ocean when I saw him falling, and I knew that if he hit the water at that speed, he would be killed instantly.
I was born different, and I’ve always been alone.
My family is like a living rainbow, their scales shimmering and gleaming in the light in a symphony of colors that reflects the harmony of the universe.
But my scales are gray.
Just gray, with no hint of the opalescent beauty that graces my sisters’ skin.
By the time I was old enough to understand what that meant, I’d already learned to love the silence that surrounded me.
So I never thought much about what I was missing.
At least, not until the day I found out for sure that I would never hear the music of the spheres.
I’m not sure what I expected it to sound like.
It’s supposed to be the most beautiful song in the universe, so why shouldn’t it sound beautiful?
Maybe it does.
But I don’t know, because I can’t hear it.
No one knows why, but for some reason, I was born without ears.
Without hearing, without the ability to experience the symphony that binds my kin together.
Sometimes I think that’s why I feel so disconnected from everyone and everything around me.
Why I feel like an outsider, even when I’m surrounded by my own kin.
But even if I could hear, I would still be different from everyone else.
Even if I could hear, my scales would still be gray.
My family’s scales are like a living rainbow, brilliant and beautiful and utterly unique to each dragon.
But mine are just gray.
Not even dark gray or light gray—just gray-gray, as boring as the color of dirt.
I used to hate them, but now I don’t even think about them anymore.
I’ve learned to ignore them, just like I’ve learned to ignore everything else about myself that makes me different.
It wasn’t always easy, but after a while, it got better.
After a while, I stopped thinking about what I can’t do and started figuring out what I can.
Being deaf has its advantages.
Like being one of the only dragons in the world who can talk underwater.
Most dragons hate going underwater because they can’t see their colors and lights as well in the dark, murky depths as they can in the bright blue sky.
But for me, it’s no different than being on land—except that there aren’t any sounds to distract me from what’s most important: surviving in a world where most dragons don’t take kindly to those who are different from themselves.
So while the rest of my family was busy teaching me how to “hear” our song, how to listen with my skin and feel the colors and lights as they danced around us, I was busy doing something else.
While they were teaching me how to speak with my scales—how to sing through colors and communicate with lights—I was learning how to communicate with my body through vibrations instead.
I’ve never told anyone that I can feel the music of the spheres, not even my family or my closest friends, because I know that they would never believe me—or worse, that they would pity me, the poor deaf dragon who thinks she can hear something she can’t.
But it’s true: I can feel the music of the spheres, not just with my skin, but with every fiber of my being, and in those moments when I’m dancing through the water, surrounded by the slow, gentle vibrations of life all around me, I feel connected not just to my family and my friends, but to the universe itself, as though its song is filling me up and spilling out through my scales, in a symphony of light and color that only I can see and hear and understand.
I’ve always loved dancing, especially when the water is cool and clear, and the sun is shining high above me, casting rainbows of light through the waves as I move.But as much as I love dancing, I love swimming even more, because when I’m underwater, I’m free in a way that I’m not on land or in the air, where the world is so loud and confusing that it’s almost impossible for me to concentrate on anything else.
The water is warm here, but I don’t mind.
I like it best when it’s cool, but I can still feel the slow vibrations of life all around me and dance to their rhythm as I swim through the ocean, my sleek silver scales shining in the sunlight like a thousand tiny stars all around me.
I know that I’m lucky to be able to do this—to be able to swim and dance and move with such grace and beauty through the waves—because most dragons can’t swim at all, let alone dance with the kind of skill and precision that I have honed over so many years of practice.
But just because they can’t do it doesn’t mean that they can’t appreciate its beauty, which is why I always make sure to dance for them whenever they ask me to or whenever I can tell that they need a little cheering up.
I’d been swimming and dancing for hours, and I was just starting to tire when I felt a new vibration, one that was different from anything I’d ever felt before.
I didn’t think much of it at first, but then I heard a distant cry, a cry of terror and despair that pierced the water and echoed all around me, until it felt like every cell in my body was vibrating in sympathy with its pain.
I spun around, searching for the source of that sound, and saw a red dragon, his wings torn and useless, hurtling down from above.
His scales were bright and beautiful, a vibrant shade of red that almost glowed in the darkness of the deep ocean, and for a moment, I thought about how lucky he was, how lucky he would be if he could survive this fall without breaking his neck or his back on impact.
He was falling so fast, though, and he was so far away, that there was no way I would be able to reach him in time.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t try.
So I spread my wings and flew towards him, using every ounce of strength and energy that I had to try to reach him before he hit the water.
He didn’t see me coming, of course.
He was still falling so fast, and he was still so far away.
But I was determined not to give up on him—not yet, not when there was still a chance that I could save his life.
So I flapped my wings even harder and flew even faster, until I could feel the vibrations of his pain all around me and knew that I would do anything to save him—even if it meant risking my own life in the process.
The water was warm, but it was still a shock to my system when I hit it at such high speeds, so I took a deep breath and held on tight to Theron Pyralis’s unconscious body as we plunged down into its depths together.
For a moment, everything was black and silent, and I couldn’t see or hear anything at all.
Then I felt something wrap around me and pull me down even further—something cold and wet and slimy that felt like hundreds of tiny fingers all around me and made me want to scream in terror.
But I didn’t scream.
I didn’t panic either.
I just took another deep breath and looked down at my side where I could see a long metal blade protruding from between my scales.
It was covered in blood—my blood—and for a moment, I thought about how strange that was because most dragons had red blood or purple blood or some other dark color that looked almost black in the light of day.
But not me.
I had blue blood—vibrant blue blood—and even though it was hard for me to see in this darkness, I knew that it was beautiful in its own way and that I would do anything to keep from losing any more of it than I already had.
So I reached down with one hand and pulled out the blade that had caused me to bleed in the first place.
It hurt more than anything else I’d ever done before and left behind a long jagged wound that bled even more profusely than before.
But at least now I could see what was happening to me and know what to do about it.
I looked down again and saw that I was wrapped up in a long metal chain that had been coiled around my body like a snake and was now trying to drag me down into the darkest depths of the ocean where I would never be able to escape from its cold and clammy grip.
But I wasn’t going to let that happen to me.
So I spread my wings and flapped them as hard as I could until I was free of the chain and could see Theron Pyralis’s unconscious form sinking down into the darkness below.
He was still too far away for me to reach him on my own—much less save him from whatever fate awaited him down there—but that didn’t mean I was going to leave him behind and forget all about him.
He needed my help, and I was going to give it to him—whether he wanted it or not.
