Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation
63. A Dream?

Roar!

Even in his dreams, the dragon’s cry echoed incessantly, reverberating through Jin Shu’s thoughts. He glanced around his surroundings, the dim, enclosed space giving off an otherworldly aura. Though there was no discernible light source, he could clearly make out the eggshell-white walls and the sticky, translucent substance pooling around him.

Am I dreaming? he wondered, though the sensation of the goo clinging to his skin felt far too real. His thoughts faltered as he looked down at his hands—no, claws.

His breath hitched. His arms, now shorter, were covered in smooth scales, the ends of his hands terminated in three razor-sharp claws that flexed as he willed them to move. The feeling was disturbingly natural, as though these alien appendages had always been his.

He tried to stand, only to stumble and crash into the viscous liquid beneath him. As he thrashed about, his gaze caught the rest of his body.

A long, sinuous body stretched out beneath him, scales running from his neck to the tip of his tail, which ended in a tuft of bushy black fur, or was it hair? Two clawed feet mirrored his hands, completing the serpentine form.

“What the hell am I?” he attempted to shout, but all that escaped was a high-pitched squeak, barely audible above the squelching liquid.

Panic swirled in his mind. What is this place? What am I? The questions came in rapid succession, yet no answers surfaced. His heart—or whatever organ now beat within him—thumped loudly in his chest.

He shifted his focus back to the space. Seamless, curved walls surrounded him, giving no indication of an exit. The suffocating enclosure sent a spike of urgency through him.

Slamming his clawed fist against the wall, he winced as the impact reverberated through his scaled arm. A faint spiderweb of cracks appeared beneath his strike. Encouraged, he struck again, the cracks spreading, though agonizingly slowly.

Over and over, he pounded against the unyielding wall. Each strike sent tremors through his small body, the goo splattering around him. The enclosure shook violently, but even after what felt like hundreds of blows, it refused to shatter.

Frustration boiled over. With a surge of desperation, he threw his head forward, slamming it against the wall with all his might.

Bang!

The sound reverberated like a thunderclap, and the cracked surface finally gave way. Light poured in, blinding and stinging his sensitive eyes.

He recoiled instinctively, shielding his face with his claws. The brightness overwhelmed him, and he hesitated, his heart pounding as he felt the first rush of fresh air against his scaled skin.

A violent tremor shook the walls of his prison, and with a deafening crack, the entire structure tilted. Jin Shu was flung forward, a wave of sticky, translucent goo spilling out alongside him.

He landed with a soft squelch, his small body sprawling on the ground. Dazed, he blinked at the puddle beneath him, its surface rippling slightly from the tremors.

The reflection staring back was not his own—at least, not the one he remembered.

A serpentine face, sleek and draconic, stared up at him. Its eyes were sharp and gleaming, set within a visage of silver scales that shimmered faintly in the bright sunlight. Jin Shu's breath hitched as he slowly processed what he was seeing.

Dragon... I’m a dragon.

He barely had time to grapple with this realization before the ground beneath him quaked violently, sending ripples through the puddle. The tremors grew stronger, rhythmic and purposeful, as if heralding the arrival of something immense.

Lifting his head, Jin Shu’s gaze landed on a sight that made his heart freeze.

A colossal dragon loomed in the distance, its massive form covered in dark blue scales that gleamed like polished armor under the sun. It towered impossibly high, each step shaking the earth with a force that reverberated through his tiny body.

As the massive creature approached, its shadow engulfed him entirely. When it came within a single step, the dragon extended one of its enormous, clawed hands toward him.

Panic surged through Jin Shu’s tiny frame. He tried to back away, scrabbling against the ground, but his small, serpentine body offered no escape. The dragon’s claws closed around him with a surprising gentleness, lifting him effortlessly into the air.

Held aloft before the dragon’s massive face, Jin Shu blinked in confusion as it peered at him with large, luminous eyes. They weren’t cold or intimidating. Instead, they were warm, filled with what could only be described as motherly love.

“Hello, little one,” the dragon cooed, its voice soft and melodic, belying its immense size.

Jin Shu stared, his mind reeling. Did I die… and reincarnate again? Memories of the glowing fang striking his forehead flooded his thoughts.

The dragon tilted its head slightly, as if pondering something. “What should your name be, hmm?” it mused aloud, its tone playful yet thoughtful.

After a moment, the creature seemed to come to a decision. “Since you are the firstborn son of the Dragon Clan's patriarch, you will take on the Long surname. And your given name shall be Jinshu, for your beautiful silver scales that shine golden under the sun.”

Jin Shu flinched involuntarily at the name, his reaction seemingly misinterpreted by the dragon as fear.

“Oh, my little baby. Don’t be afraid,” the dragon murmured soothingly, holding him closer. “It must be this form. Let me take on another.”

The massive dragon’s body began to glow, its form shrinking and reshaping itself with fluid grace. When the light faded, Jin Shu found himself cradled in the arms of a stunning woman with dark blue hair cascading around her and a set of two dragon horns proudly atop her head. Her warm, motherly smile softened her already striking features.

“There, isn’t this better?” she asked gently, stroking his scaled head with a tenderness that both comforted and confused him.

Jin Shu could only blink up at her, his mind spinning as he tried to piece together this new reality.

Everything felt so real. So alive. This was no dream.

Jin Shu’s heart sank as the realization settled in. What had become of his family? His mother, Yin’er, Biyu—all of them. They were gone, left behind in a life that now felt unreachable.

Tears welled in his eyes, slipping down the grooves of his scaled face. He tried to stifle the sobs building in his chest, but they broke free in a pitiful wail.

The dragon-turned-woman holding him immediately pulled him close, cradling his small, trembling body against her chest. Her warmth was both comforting and alien, a stark reminder of the new reality he was trapped in.

“Oh no, poor baby. What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft and full of concern.

“Ree!” The sound escaped him involuntarily, a high-pitched cry that was both embarrassing and heartbreaking. Tears flowed freely now, his grief uncontainable.

The woman rocked him gently in her arms, her soothing voice weaving through his despair. “Shh, shh, shh. Everything will be alright, my little Shu’er. Mama’s here now.”

Her gentle cooing, paired with the rhythmic motion of her rocking, slowly began to dull the sharp edges of his sorrow. His cries quieted, his small body exhausted by the outburst. Before long, his young mind succumbed to the comforting lull, and he drifted into an exhausted sleep.

When Jin Shu woke, the first thing he did was inspect his body. His claws, his tail, his scaled form—they were all still there. The brief hope that this was all a nightmare shattered, leaving behind the cold weight of reality.

He slumped back into the soft bedding beneath him, the memories of his previous life crashing down like a relentless tide. His mother’s smile, Yin’er’s laughter, Biyu’s teasing—all of it was gone.

He closed his eyes tightly, as if that would block out the ache in his chest. His mind replayed the fragments of a dream he’d had while sleeping—his mother and Yin’er, their faces warm and kind, wishing him happiness in this new life.

Tears trickled down his scaled cheeks once more. It seemed that even in the body of a dragon, the emotions of a child overwhelmed him. The sorrow was raw, unfiltered, and inescapable.

Jin Shu curled in on himself, wrapping his long tail around his small body as his grief consumed him.

His bedding shifted underneath him, and Jin Shu realized he wasn’t lying on a bed at all, but on the blue-haired woman’s stomach. The rise and fall of her breathing was steady and comforting, like a soothing rhythm against his tiny body.

He blinked up at her, meeting her gaze. Her soft, gentle eyes locked onto his, full of warmth and love that felt almost overwhelming.

For several long moments, they held each other’s gaze, an unspoken connection forming between them. Then, her lips curled into a tender smile, and she lifted him closer to her face. With infinite care, she pressed a kiss onto the top of his scaled head.

The dark emotions swirling within Jin Shu—grief, despair, and loneliness—melted away like snow touched by the summer sun. The warmth of her kiss spread through him, filling the empty spaces in his heart with an unfamiliar yet comforting presence.

“Mama’s here, baby,” she whispered, her voice as soft as a lullaby.

Jin Shu’s small body relaxed, his earlier sadness forgotten. He snuggled against her chest, his tiny claws clutching at her clothing as he burrowed into her warmth.

For the first time since he’d awoken in this strange new form, Jin Shu allowed himself to feel safe. Wrapped in her embrace, the worries of the past seemed to fade, leaving only the present—her love and his contentment.