Chris was having a dream. It wasn't a good or a bad dream, yet it was an all-too-familiar one. He was in his room. He knew he was asleep; he lay on his bed, unmoving, unblinking, staring out into the darkness lit by a faint, sourceless, purple light. Presently he could make out the end of his bed, the bedroom door, and his closet. All of the colours were off, much darker than they should be. Objects looked malleable, insubstantial, almost liquid to the point of transparency. He gazed without moving, his eyes changing position every now and then. As the dream continued, he sometimes shifted in bed, rolling over to one side as he slept, facing a new view though most likely a mundane one such as a different expanse of his pillow. These times seemed interminable to Chris, and in the dreams he seemed only to be waiting until he woke up. Mostly he just thought about things: his girlfriend Annabel, homework, computer games, sex, farm work, school, magic, other Beings, dragons.... Anything to pass the dream time.
At the moment, his view revealed part of the forearm on which his head was resting. Unlike other objects, it appeared solid and wholesome, tinged with a slight purple glow. Chris had thought perhaps he was the source of the purple light. On closer inspection, as the hours of forced boredom marched on relentlessly, he realised the light was ambient, emanating from the air itself ... and yet he seemed to emit it, too.
Once, a few years ago, he'd dreamt he had seen his stepmother Susan open his door quietly and stand there, watching him. It had been exciting yet somewhat embarrassing to see her ghostly body lit by the purple light, her curves visible through her transparent nightgown. He had stared back, transfixed. While watching him she had leaned against the doorframe, arms clasped together in front of her, unwittingly presenting her breasts seductively to him. He had talked with her about his recurring dream, but not about this one.
The Ether, that's what she'd called it, the 'nothing between everything'. Everything in the Ether was a bleed-through from the Norm, a shadow of its real self. Whatever that meant. Susan had tried to explain that the Ether was like a sub-level of reality, the stuff between dimensions. Everything in the Norm had a small presence in the Ether; on the other hand there were entities in the Ether that weren't present in the Norm: wraiths, sprites, parasites, and plants, living off of each other and from the energy bleeding in from the Norm.
She hadn't known why his dreams took him there. Perhaps it was just part of being a dragon, she'd suggested, something about which he would find out when that side of himself became unlocked. As a witch, she could enter the Ether at will, but the energy costs for entering, exiting, and maintaining a presence in the Ether were very high, and might trap her inside it if she wasn't careful.
Chris shifted in his sleep, the new vista now revealing more of the upper part of his room. The silvery-white moss was growing back. When he had first seen the plant gaining territory along his ceiling, he had tried to scrub it off as soon as he'd woken up, but without any success. Susan had been ecstatic though, immediately retrieving a paint scraper, a ladder, and an enchanted glass jar from her 'magic room'. Spelling herself into the Ether, she'd disappeared before his eyes, only to emerge about a minute later, enervated yet triumphant, holding a jar packed with the white moss. He'd then had to carry her to her bed, and she'd even called in sick the next day, to give her time to recover. Apparently it was all worth it, though. Ether moss was supposedly very valuable as a magical ingredient.
Everything from the Ether was valuable, apparently. Not many Beings had the strength or will even to enter, much less use it effectively. Ether mages specialised in this, but despite her enthusiasm Susan wasn't interested in attaining the much vaunted specialised knowledge. She was happy enough with her lesser magic, plants, and potions.
Susan ... his childhood nurse and tutor, now the sole parent of a teenaged guy who, apparently, had a dragon trapped inside of him. Chris would have found this hard to believe had Susan not shown him things that couldn't be explained as anything other than magic. Then there was Jethry Dale, the old farmer in whose house Chris had grown up, and who had scared the shit out of Chris the first time he'd revealed himself as a Werecat. No wonder he'd seemed so spritely and quick; unnatural for any normal 78-year-old human. Chris sometimes teased Jethry that it was no wonder he owned a dairy, in response to which he'd hear Jethry suck in his breath with a hissing sound and throw him a look of mock-irritation. Then there were other things. For example, he could smell what other people couldn't, and he had a desire for gold and valuable objects. Sometimes he felt their presence nearby, even when not in sight, especially gold and gemstones. The sensation gave him a feeling of wellbeing and contentment. In fact, Chris occasionally went gold hunting in the mountain ranges on weekends, and his life savings outside of about a thousand dollars was in gold, concealed in his mattress. He'd been quite industrious and now slept on its comforting presence.
Chris had finally become resigned, accepting that there was a dormant dragon inside him. It would come out eventually, a thought both exciting and terrifying. Once it emerged, he would truly enter the magical world, no longer appearing as a human to all supernatural Beings as he now did due to his father's protective spell. Susan had originally interpreted his father's incantation 'Be hidden until you come of age' to mean that when he turned 18, Chris would then be 'of age'. However, that birthday had come and gone uneventfully over a year ago, and his dragon remained hidden. The next logical target date, therefore, would seem to be his 21st birthday, assuming that the enchantment was intelligent enough to adapt to its environment. They were now in America, after all. Susan had brought Chris to live at the Werecat's farm outside of Laramie after fleeing Europe where his parents had died. However, she was far from sure, given that dragons matured much more slowly than humans.
Dragons ... his dragon was the reason he'd had to be hidden. According to Susan, they were almost extinct. Highly valued for their immense powers of spellcraft, longevity, strength, and healing, most were in hiding or under protection. Dragons overflow with magic: a dragon's saliva was a powerful healing concoction, his venom was the base ingredient in the deadliest poisons, and ... his spend was a powerful aphrodisiac that greatly enhanced sexual pleasure. Other parts such as scales, horns, and teeth would be extremely valuable to those involved in darker magic, but usually resulted in the death of the dragon during extraction. There were laws in place to prevent dragon hunting, an ultimately wasteful practice, but this didn't stop some from trying. His mother had died this way, and his father was killed for taking revenge on an elf royal who had hunted her down, or so the story went. Knowing that he would likely die and leave Chris with no guidance after his dragon emerged, his father had locked Chris's dragon inside him with the enchantment, effectively hiding it from the world until he had a decent chance. It was a decision made during a time of great desperation and with an overwhelming sense of loss. So, for all of the potentially great power, strength, cunning, and magic, Chris knew almost nothing about being a dragon, other than what Susan had picked up from his parents.
Chris dreamed he was bored again, staring listlessly at the roof as he lay in bed. Exams and classes had ended several days ago, so no school assignments crowded his thoughts and schedule. Other than the ceremonies and socialising, things he generally avoided, he didn't have any reason to attend. lf Annabel wanted to go, though, he would go with her. She was probably the only reason he hadn't been branded a complete loner at school; having an attractive, well-liked girlfriend had done wonders for his social image. He watched the ceiling some more before the dreaded view of his bedside table wheeled into view, the digital clock perched on top. Now he had to watch the countdown. He had tried turning the clock away from the bed before going to sleep. Ironically, he'd found that not being able tell how long was left till the alarm went off was infuriating. Thus, when the clock was all there was in view, it mattered.
The time ticked by. Only three minutes remained; Chris started to think about milking the cows.
5:00 am. He felt himself wrested from the Ether dream, the alarm sounding harshly in his eardrums. Despite being in the waking dream half the night, he felt rested. After moving his legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up, Chris reached for his drink bottle and downed the dregs. Walking over to the switch and flicking on the light, he stretched and yawned a bit, waiting until his eyes adjusted, and then checked himself out in the mirror. He was happy enough with what he saw: a broad and strong body, well-muscled but with a healthy layer of fat over the top. They were real muscles from working. As to the top layer, he was too lazy and hungry to bother with getting the fat off. There wasn't much of it, and it only obscured his six-pack abs a little; he didn't have rolls or pillows so it was all good. Annabel seemed to like him well enough anyway. He glanced at his penis. Extending out proud and thick with its morning cheer, the bulbous head bobbed at him before it started to gradually deflate. Watching his deflation was a strange yet somehow fascinating experience, such a fundamental change occurring right before his eyes. He would give himself a trim down there this morning, in anticipation of what he and Annabel had planned sometime in the coming days. He usually kept himself reasonably groomed, but losing one's virginity was certainly an occasion meriting some extra preparation.
They'd been together for the last year and a half, but hadn't done the deed. She had promised her family, despite not buying into their religious dogmas, that she would wait till she was 18 which was now a few months ago. Chris didn't especially mind. Despite the traumas he'd experienced in his young life, he had also learned that good things came to those who waited. Besides, she gave him blowjobs and he loved eating her out, watching her respond and listening as she came all over his tongue and fingers. He realised he was getting a bit of chub back just thinking about it, so before he could get carried away he got on with getting dressed.
Heading downstairs Chris put the kettle on, took a leak, made two mugs of coffee, and then carried one back upstairs. He knocked on Susan's door perfunctorily before entering and placing it on her bedside table. Stepping quietly, he moved to the edge of the bed and sat down. "Morning Mom," he said gently. She smiled and rolled over to face him.
"Hey sweetie, oh, you're the best," she said, sitting up against the headboard and turning the bedside lamp on. She reached for her coffee. Sweeping her long black hair away from her face, she looked up with a yawn, and he watched her sleepy blue eyes focus on him. "Did you sleep ok?"
"Yeah.... I had the dream again, though," he admitted. "Anyway, I'll go get started with Jethry. It should be a quick milking this morning, he left a few of the cows in with the calves last night."
