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Ben gave a firm nod.
“A war is coming. I feel it. I do not know why dragons are not allowed to exist on earth. Or why the Jade Emperor is intent upon taking all of the dragons back. But I cannot imagine that any of us would give up our freedom without a fight.”
Shai clenched his jaw in absolute agreement. Never again would he be imprisoned or enslaved.
“If we must fight, then so be it,” Ben growled, his eyes blazing with a brilliant blue-green light.
“We’ve been one step behind the JE all this time. I say we go on the offense.”
“The animal spirits are ready,” Goya said.
“We dragons are ready,” Kai said.
“We can gather the Pure and Dark Ones, as well as the Elementals as needed,” Tal said.
Ben smiled grimly.
He looked to each and every one of the friends and family gathered here and declared in a commanding tone:
“Prepare for war.”
Epilogue
Falling
The sound of wood chopping cracked like gunshots in the silent dawn.
The sun was just beginning to rise, and the sky was overcast with fat, slumberous clouds, blanketing these rugged, untamed lands in semi-darkness.
There was still enough light to see by, however. And a lone male figure stood out in stark relief within the hazy dream.
Michael paused in his approach, simply taking in the sight.
A few yards away, Benjamin D’Angelo swung the ax in a well-practiced rhythm.
He wore a long-sleeved flannel shirt (which appeared to be very popular with the locals of the Yukon Territories) with half of the buttons undone, revealing a sweaty, hair-dusted chest beneath. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his corded forearms, wrapped with zig-zagging veins that could be seen even from where Michael was standing. A pair of well-worn jeans hugged his long, strong legs, molding to his lean hips and taut ass, his feet encased in utilitarian boots.
His thick golden hair had grown long. Having been stuck in the human world for more than a couple of years by now, Michael witnessed the change in color with the change of seasons.
In the summer, Ben’s hair lightened to the brilliance of sun rays, glinting like a halo around his head. Gradually, it darkened with streaks of polished gold as the weather grew cooler and there were fewer sunny days. Finally, in the fall and winter, it settled the way it looked now—
Silken waves of sun-streaked gold and honey that fell past his shoulders when he let them loose, or most often tied up in a haphazard knot at the back of his head.
Michael knew through observation and research about human aesthetics that “models” spent hours getting spruced to look like this. And he also knew from paying attention to the god-like human before him now that Ben never bothered with how he appeared.
His hair was long because he didn’t care to cut it. And when he did, he likely took a pair of shears himself and hacked off a few inches for convenience’s sake.
Similarly, he probably shaved once in a blue moon. Presently, his angular jaw was covered in a short beard. In another week or so, he’d likely appear clean-shaven at the diner for about half a day before the stubbles came in by evening. And the cycle would start all over again.
It was slightly concerning that Michael spent so much time cataloguing Ben’s features, habits and words. He recalled this particular human’s activities and preferences exceptionally well, while his mind blocked out most others.
It was as if his scope of vision was only set to see Ben. And his ears were set to pick up on his deep, husky voice only. Homed in on him whenever he was around.
As if there was some sort of “chip” embedded in Michael’s brain. Or, more accurately, as if his entire being was wired to be drawn to Ben, like a super magnet attracted a piece of helpless steel flint.
Michael was only slightly concerned because gods, even the exiled, powerless ones, didn’t normally fixate on things. But at least the object of his fixation was interesting and quite pretty to look at.
Beautiful, really.
