An anathema — that’s what she was. You were sure of it. How could someone abandon their responsibility — their duty? It was nonsensical. What if you did the same? It was unthinkable, yet here you were, thinking it.

‘Can you carry me home?’ She had said. Just like that. The trouble wasn’t that you had; the trouble was that you didn’t need directions. You were used to knowing things. Absorbing knowledge had always been part of your being. It was how you functioned. But you had never actually absorbed information from a specific, individual human before. What good was it to know the specific habitat for such a creature? It served no cosmic purpose, yet you unerringly flew to her domicile.

The wind was volatile — turbulent as it swept through the rows of red-bricked apartment buildings. Like river rapids, it swirled and churned, spilling and tumbling around the buildings that stood defiant against its passage. You could tell the wind really hated this place; you were starting to understand why.

Your midnight-colored scales did nothing to hide you during the day, a fact made plain as locals fled in terror when witnessing your perch on a four-story building. Your grip curled into the bricked ledge as you leered over the neighborhood, a tiny shivering form in your opposite upturned, closed grasp. The humans really weren’t built for varied climates. It’s no wonder they decorated themselves the way they did.

The space between the buildings was littered with their automobiles and erected light poles. The humans always had a similar response to your presence — they lost their minds. It was chaos. And since your purpose was to avert chaos, it was more than a little counter productive to land in such a place, causing excessive damage to personal things.

Behind her building was a train station — the “L,” they called it. It was an elevated set of rail tracks that served as a major source of travel, which bisected a north and south side, before departing to the east, ferrying employees to a satellite location east of Iskiros. There was…something there, but you weren’t sure what. Odd. You’d have to check on that.

You sent Star on her way, depositing her on the train platform before setting your sights on your current Compelling. There wasn’t anything you could perceive at this new destination. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. You could fly directly to a specific human’s habitat but when it came to knowing about your primary task…

You grunted and burst skyward. This something was to the northwest and around thirty miles away. Or was it forty miles and more northward? Maybe this something was moving. The not-knowing was infuriating.

You passed low over the ground, contouring the planet’s surface like a cloud’s shadow. The terrain rose into parallel ridges, a river cutting them in two. The water’s surface was wide enough to accommodate your full wing span and you settled down to pass just above it. You weren’t moving at your fastest, but so close to the ground, the abutting trees blurred, the browns and greens blurring as you passed them by.

Time passed alongside the scenery, your attention also clinging to past things. A Divine Twin — an irresponsible one at that. Chaos having a head start on your waking. This new shroud that seemed to conceal previously known things. Where was all this going? What did it all mean and what had prompted the differences this cycle?

Movement drew you back to the moment, a man suddenly jumping out of his canoe as you passed inches above his craft and his striking the water — the cool spray speckling your face and chest. I’m bing careless.

You cycled your vision, moving through the temperature variant that showed prey animals scampering away from the adjacent banks. Ahead, the water was a cool, uniform gray. The river turned and you banked, leaning into the turn, your inside wing descending to glaze the water’s surface. Your body swung to drift around the output side of the turn, your weight applying extra pressure where your wings merged with your back. The turn tightened and you pitched the leading edge of your wings upward, into the turn, and your veer hastened as you darted around the bend.

You were nearing the unknown something, though you didn’t know how near. You cycled through other vision overlays to see what other powers were at your disposal. The previous night vision was nearly whited out and neigh unusable. No surprise. It just wasn’t comfortable for that to occupy your field of view during the daytime.

“What did I do?” Star said.

The next view hit you like a banner wrapping around your windshield as you cruised at full speed, a completely foreign location dropping in to occupy the entirety of your attention. You flared your wings, trying to slow and climb at the same time. You had just started a turn and —

Crash!

You tried to make yourself as small as possible as things broke and crunched all around you. You tucked your wings, rolling in jerking, jarring motions. The halt was immediate, your form cradled and held aloft in treetops.

Things were broken. And some of them were parts of you. Pain had never been part of your repertoire and it was nice to see that hadn’t changed this cycle. Still, you couldn’t defy the demands of your form. Your healing would have to repair your crippled wings before you could get airborne again. It wouldn’t take long, but you couldn’t be bothered to think much on your predicament.

You were actually seeing through a satellite feed, which happened to be someone else’s experiences. You could have cycled the experience away at any time, but it wouldn’t have saved you from crashing. Everything was much too close and moving much too fast. Losing awareness like that even for an instance, meant… Well, it meant you’d end up exactly where you were.

The pavement scrolled a short distance away from your sight — away from Star. She was being carried. And she was in pain. You couldn’t feel that either but tears struck the concrete every so often. A police force marched alongside her, an escort outfitted as though they had been sent in to stop a riot.

What in the cosmos would demand such attention be directed at this girl. She was so weak and frail. Had it some how been an act? You considered, but quickly dismissed the possibility. No. This doesn’t have anything to do with human safety. Perhaps some other, more mundane, human responsibilities she’s also neglecting? Seems more likely.

You discarded Star’s experience, your own vision returning to show the sun perched on its zenith and looking back down at you. I’m not her babysitter. We two have our responsibilities to attend. Look away for a moment and the mortals are constantly trying to stick their hand back in the fire. If it wasn’t this, it’d be something else. You understand. Maybe, locked up, she’ll stay clear of my tasks.

The sun didn’t respond, but you weren’t expecting it to. You rolled, gingerly unfolding your wings to establish a modicum of balance as you took in the precariousness of your position. Limbs continued to snap, your weight settling into different directions as you tried to move in an opposite one.

You extended and flapped your wings, but you were nestled too deeply — your wings couldn’t flap low enough to grip the air and carry you aloft. The treetop canopy was akin to netting, dipping in the direction you attempted to back away from. If this form was anything else, this might be a problem. But this wasn’t just any form. You were a dragon. And if you needed a runway, by the cosmos, you’d have one.

You inhaled, your wings extending behind you as an immense light grew inside your maw. Birds suddenly burst into the air from all around you. They might have tolerated your clumsy landing, but they wanted none of what you were preparing now.

KaBoom!