The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

She described her approach to the tower, the heavy doors, the sense of descending into something old and significant. She described the chambers where the ancient ones were kept, the chains similar to those holding Atheris, but the space smaller, more confined, more obviously designed as imprisonment rather than containment.

"There were three of them," she said, her voice carrying wonder even in the retelling. "I could feel them before I could see them. It was like their presence was so vast, so powerful, that the air itself was heavy with it. There was a crimson one with scales darkening to black. A silver one with torn wings....I could see where something had hurt her, long ago. And a gold one, the largest, with scales like molten metal."

She paused, remembering.

"When I stepped into the chamber, they turned their heads toward me," she continued. "All three of them, moving as one. And it wasn’t like they were surprised or defensive. It was like..." she struggled for the words, "like they were waiting for someone. Like they recognized something in me."

"Describe their response," Atheris said. His voice was careful now, measured, as if each word was being chosen with great precision.

"The crimson one made a sound," Morgana said. "It was low and resonant. He looked at me, and there was something almost protective in his expression. The silver one didn’t move much, but her eyes tracked me constantly. She was studying me, assessing me, like I was a puzzle she was trying to solve."

She took a breath.

"And the gold one," she said, and her voice carried the memory of the awe she had felt. "He made this sound...not quite a roar, but something deeper. Something that felt like recognition. Like acknowledgment. I felt so small standing there, but I also felt like I was being acknowledged as something important. Something significant."

"Did you touch them?" Atheris asked.

"Yes," Morgana said. "I couldn’t help myself. I just... moved forward, and when I got close to the gold one, I reached out and put my hand on his scales. And for just a moment, I felt something. Like a connection. Like I was remembering something I’d never actually experienced. Like there was a bond between us that existed even though I had never met him before."

She could feel Atheris’s breath deepening, feel the shift in his attention becoming even more focused.

"Since that day," she continued, "I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them. I’ve tried to go back, but Thorne...one of the kings, caught me on the stairs. He somehow knew where I was going. And since then, the tower has been restricted. No servants are allowed near it."

"But the dragons remember you," Atheris said. It wasn’t a question.

"I don’t know how," Morgana said. "I’ve never met them before. I have no memory of them. But they knew me. I’m certain of it. How is that possible?"

Atheris was silent for a long moment.

When he spoke again, his voice had changed. It carried layers of meaning that Morgana couldn’t quite access, but that made her understand, on some deep level, that he was about to tell her something significant.

"The ancient ones," he said slowly, "remember many things that living beings prefer to forget. They keep memories of ages past. They are keepers of history and of bonds that transcend time."

He paused, and Morgana could feel the weight of centuries in that pause.

"I know them," he said finally.

The simple statement hung in the air between them, carrying more weight than any elaborate explanation could have.

Morgana turned to look up at Atheris, her eyes searching his massive face. "How do you know them?"

"We have... history," Atheris said carefully. "Connections that span longer than you can yet comprehend."

"But what kind of connections?" Morgana pressed. "Are they your family? Your allies? Why won’t you tell me directly?"

Atheris lowered his enormous head, and for a moment, his golden eyes were level with hers. She could see intelligence and ancient knowledge and something that might have been sadness in those depths.

"The crimson one," he said, his voice taking on a reflective quality, "was always the guardian. When I knew him, he was the fiercest protector I had ever encountered. Loyal beyond measure. Watchful beyond reason. It was his nature to stand between danger and those he loved."

He paused, allowing Morgana to absorb this.

"The silver one," Atheris continued, "was the strategist. She could see moves many steps ahead. She could plot courses through impossible situations. I have seen her plan things with such precision that they seemed less like strategy and more like prophecy."

Again, he paused.

"And the gold one," he said, and there was something almost reverential in his tone, "was the keeper of knowledge. Ancient when I was young. Wise beyond measure. The one who understood the old ways, the old magic, the old truths that have been largely forgotten by your kind."

"But how long have you known them?" Morgana asked desperately. "When did you meet them? What is your relationship?"

"That," Atheris said gently, "is not yet a story for telling."

"Why not?" Morgana’s frustration was evident. "You keep saying things like that....’not yet,’ ’when the time comes.’ But the time never comes, Atheris! I’m drowning in mysteries. I need answers!"

"And you will have them," Atheris said. "But not all at once, and not when the timing is wrong. Some truths, spoken too early, destroy rather than illuminate. Some knowledge, given before you are prepared to receive it, is more harmful than any lie."

He settled his massive head back onto his coiled body, but his golden eyes remained fixed on hers.

"What I can tell you," he said, "is that they do indeed know you. And that knowing is not coincidental. It is the result of connections that run deeper than blood, older than memory, and more significant than you are yet capable of understanding."

"That’s not an answer," Morgana said, desperation in her voice. "That’s just more mystery."