Heina: The Red Demon Dragon

A Little About Her

HEINA

"Wow." Irana's gaze held sympathy and incredulity as though she couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "You went through all of that bullying. Damn! And you say this Jocelyn is the mother of the Blood Phoenix?"

"That's what she told me." I shrugged, suddenly tired and stressed.

"Why did she come to your world? I mean, she obviously isn't human." Irana wondered aloud.

Another weary bounce of my shoulder. "I have no idea. In fact, I don't know who I am anymore. My father, the twins' father, never got the chance to tell me how I came to be under his care. I..." I felt overwhelmed, on the verge of tears.

"You mean to tell us that the man who raised you is the twins' biological father?" Aslan spoke up for the first time since I started my story.

I nodded.

"And we were told he died while trying to escape responsibility. He was the former ruler. Though we weren't born yet when all of this happened, we were told the story of how the ruler abandoned his people out of fear for the demon dragon and later died." Aslan narrated.

Silence ensued, I was having so many conflicting thoughts at the moment. Who were my parents? How had my dad — who wasn't my dad — found me?

"You guys have no idea what happened before the story of him being dead rumored through the tribe?" My voice was low — almost defeated, my head banging.

"No, this happened like almost a thousand years ago." Irana replied, placing a comforting hand on my leg.

I snapped my head back up. "What? A-a...what?!"

"Almost a thousand years ago, I guess. Should be nine hundred or a little over that, I don't know for certain." She frowned in surprise, briefly meeting eyes with her brother.

"Is anything the matter, Heina?" His eyes bulged right now. "Wait. If he gave you the name Heina, then your father definitely knew who you are. He already knows the whole story of how you came to be. Heina is not a regular name amongst dragons. In fact, it is not a name at all."

My head felt like it wanted to explode with all these information. "First things first, you said a thousand years ago." I pointed a finger in Irana's direction.

She nodded, a bit confused, probably about why I was still hung up on the time period she'd said. "Almost a thousand years ago. Why?"

"Same difference. A thousand years ago is still long a time for anyone to still be alive. People don't live up to that age."

"We are not people, Heina." There was a slight amusement in Aslan's tone.

The same amused expression spread on Irana's pretty face. "Technically speaking. We have two forms, the human and our dragon. But our true form is dragon. That's who we are. The human form is...I guess what makes us different from regular wildlife dragons." She said that last part with a shrug.

"How old are you both?" My gazes on both of them. I was almost afraid of the answer.

Irana beamed. "Are you sure you want to know?" She could somehow tell it might creep me out.

I swallowed. "Yes."

"Well, Aslan here is a thousand and one years of dragon old and I'm nine hundred years of dragon old. According to human standard of growth..." She continued as though she had not just noticed my jaw dropping to the floor and my eyes popping alarmingly from their optical pockets. "...I should be eighteen and my brother, nineteen, I think. Am I right?" She looked at me, then laughed when she saw my very astonished-terrified expression.

"Do you know how old you are?" Alsan looked at me. "I mean, if he had raised you, he didn't die. So you were alive all this time. All these years."

I shook my head. "No, you can not be serious. I am no more than eighteen. And that's the truth. The only truth." I didn't feel like hearing anymore.

I couldn't be dealing with so many lies and facts. I didn't even know which was were the lies and which were the facts.

Another bout of silence stretched. It felt a bit strained...and heavy. There were more words. More truths. More history, possibly about me, hanging in the air. And they were willing to tell. But it was me. I wasn't ready to listen.

I was eighteen and that was it. It was enough dealing with an unknown root or background. Maybe Dad had found me in the human world where he'd escaped to.

My real parents were human, but they didn't want me or something bad happened to them, and Dad had to step in with mom.

But those dragons on my birthday...urhhggg! I didn't want to think beyond my biological parents being human right now.

I'd had enough for today.

I tried to find a new topic to veer into other than how good Aslan smelled sitting beside me. It was tempting to sniff into his shirt but I held myself back.

Then it came to me. "I'm sorry, guys."

"For what?" Irana was obviously relieved to be rid of the silence.

"For lying. Properly put, lying by omission. I should have told you guys about me before Sirra..." I left it at that, not wanting to remember how everyone had looked at me with an undeniable mixture of unbridled fear and deep spite.

"The Clawthornes are mean, but Sirra deserves the heina title. She's like an evil dragon always hating on the happiness of others." Irana hissed in annoyance. "Pay no mind to her." She concluded.

"Still, I..."

Aslan's hand on my shoulder stopped my next words. "Don't bother. We don't hold it against you."

"Plus it's us who should be sorry." Irana contributed. "Especially me. I should have been a better best friend. Leaving you alone in the cafeteria just might be the worst thing any best friend would have done to her best friend."

I reached across for her hand and squeezed. "You're still the best best friend, Irana. The first ever." I got a little emotional because it was moments like this I'd always hoped for.

People like her and Aslan I'd always wished for.

She beamed, scooted closer from the table she was sitting on and wrapped me in a hug. "The people at Royal Ridge are either blind or stupid not to have you as a friend."

Whether she'd said that to make me happy or she meant it, I didn't care. It made me feel better and accepted, and that was all that mattered to me.

A single knock came on the door then, and a woman barged in before Irana could invite the person in.

"Mom, hi." Irana greeted cheerfully.

I saw the resemblance then — both in pictures and in person. But by heavens, she was even prettier in person. "Hi." I greeted, my voice polite.

Her gaze scanned all three of our faces, but those winter gray lingered longer on mine. "How are you?" As every mother would, she took note of the deep scratches on my face and my propped up feet.

"Fine, ma'am." I wasn't completely relaxed because of the slight seriousness in her eyes.

"You brought her here?" She directed to her children.

"Mom, she's not harmful. She's our friend." Irana stepped in, ready to defend me.

Their mom raised her hands. "I'm not against your friendship with anyone, Irana but not her." She flashed me an apologetic smile. "No offense, my dear."

I smiled back but it wasn't cheerful. Sadness was beginning to bloom. What if she turned her children against me? Made them stop being friends with me? She wasn't even hiding her disapproval of me, airing what she thought in my presence.

Aslan stood. "Mom, you're not like this. Please."

She looked at them both as though battling some internal conflict. Her eyes glanced over at me. "She's pretty. Appears nice too. I don't have any issue with her but it's what she represents."

"Doesn't that change everything — How nice she is? How pretty she is?" Irana pouted.

I could tell she'd enjoyed a lot of the 'last child' privilege, just as I'd enjoyed the 'only child' privilege.

It made me miss my parents terribly.

She sighed. "Your dad is back. And he looks furious."

Another knock came on, Irana went to answer it. She opened it wide, looking over her shoulder at me. "Heina, you have visitors."

It was the twins and they looked furious as well. "Let's go home."