Each Sykajume was paired with a celestial dragon, an ajukara, a being of stars and magic that provided the Sykajume with their powers and learning of esoteric secrets.

She didn’t really understand how it worked, or why, and nor did it matter much to her. She knew her parents were some kind of architect, and that she would finally have her own dragon at last.

Her mother was carefully perched at the edge of deep black celestial waters, her fingers reaching out for the albino serpentine creature that was still blind, its little wings keeping it afloat as it squirmed and writhed about like a slippery eel. The other infant ajukaras were crouched around the hatchling pool, chirruping and whistling to their fellow sibling with just as much fever and excitement at the meeting as Kaeseltra has. She knelt beside her mother and reached her small hand out as far as she could reach, almost falling in and gasping at the icy touch of the water. 

She often came to assist her mother with the birthing and nurture of the ajukaras and lesser dragons. Her mother was the only one who could withstand the water, and Kaeseltra would normally back away from the water shivering violently to watch from a safe distance among a deep pile of furs, attending to the newborns and checking them over before later taking them to the eyrie.

This time, however, she preserved against the cold breath of the water and the chill seeping into her bones as she too called out to it. She’d spent the last five months sleeping in the crystal cavern, and every spare moment of the day watching over the luminous egg, telling it stories or singing lullabies to it, or otherwise coaxing it to hatch.

The other ajukaras had hatched out just before then, and we’re already developing the individual markings and colours, and testing out their rapidly growing wings. Kaeseltra had often worried that maybe this little ghostly egg would never hatch, and often she would climb into her father’s lap whenever he joined her in the cavern, and he would tell her again not to worry, that his own ajukara had taken nearly two years to hatch.

He was away, busy herding dragons through the fields of stars or searching for any vaejume that might encroach on their rich pastures. They never knew how long his work would take him away, and she hoped he would be back soon so she could introduce her ajukara to him.

The little creature finally managed to manoeuvre itself in the right direction and made its way into her mother’s embrace. Kaeseltra sat back on her heels and watched patiently as her mother held the dragon up with the same story van expression she reserved for her own children and whispered something to it, a spell perhaps, Kaeseltra knew better than to ask. Hatching dragons was the power given to her, as protection of the Sykajume constellation was her father’s.

None of the children knew what their destiny would be yet, only years of teaching from their celestial dragons would reveal their fates. They often discussed it though, and dream of what they might become. Unelma hoped to become a chronicler and travel all through the heavens studying and writing about what she might find, Anje wanted to grow and cultivate the crystalline trees if their home, and more than anything, Kaeseltra longed to follow in her mother’s footsteps and eventually take over the hatchling pools, or maybe even one of her own. As to what Sarasan and Aetshiran wanted to become, no one knew. They were often goofing off and preparing pranks to deploy on everyone else.

At last, her mother turned to Kaeseltra with her glowing smile and handed the baby dragon to her, its skin silken and glowing with the faintest rainbow colours through the skin. It made soft chirruping noises as it swayed its head, almost purring, and Kaeseltra pressed her face lightly against it, sighing in delight as she finally embraced her ajukara after so long.

“Shyna” she whispered to the ajukara, naming it spirit for its spectral colouration.

{Next Chapter: Lessons In Architecture}

Original article: The Lost Chapter I : The Hatchling Pool.