CHAPTER 34: BREATHING FLAMES

Bone-shattering wasn’t the word for it. Beneath that invisible pressure, Ajab’s eyes widened, reddening as they bulged, and the mere thought of lifting his head felt like an unforgivable crime against the laws of nature. The floor beneath his face offered no mercy—it didn’t sink, didn’t soften, didn’t yield. If it had, maybe his face wouldn’t have felt so horribly flattened. His hands were no better: one palm planted awkwardly ahead of his face, the other twisted behind him, knuckles facing downward in a grotesque angle, yet even that distortion wasn’t spared as the crushing force consumed it.

No air escaped his lungs, and no words could follow. He was locked in place beneath that weight — that mountain of merciless force. Agony stripped his face of expression; it froze there, emptied under the relentless crushing pressure. If it continued, he knew with dreadful clarity that he would be flattened, reduced to something unrecognizable.

Ajab had no mental recollection of how long this lasted, but the moment the King moved in front of him, everything vanished like it never existed. The only thing that convinced him it had happened was that he was still on the floor, his body plastered there. Everything else disappeared without a trace. Not even pain was left behind as evidence.

He pushed up onto his hands, palms scraping the floor as he leaned, his back arching slightly off the floor. His weight rested in his palms while his body stayed low, suspended between rising and remaining fallen. From that angle, he lifted his gaze, letting it travel upward without haste. Whatever stood before him seemed to stretch endlessly upward. His breath hitched once, barely there.

Then it neighed, lifting its hooves so they hung freely in the air. It had already been towering, but now it looked large enough to swallow the sky itself.

Flames wrapped around its hooves, and every lazy swing of them birthed violent whoosh sounds in the air. Its mane was no longer hair but living fire, flowing like a burning banner,while its feathered wings unfurled — every feather lit, blazing, alive. Four hooves though?

Then it began to descend. The rushing, violent whoosh of air grew louder as it dropped. Ajab’s eyes widened and he threw an arm over his face, bracing for impact. He didn’t know whether to ask to be carried now, because a collision from something like that could hurl him across the space and smash him into anything.

But it was already too late. The roaring whoosh filled his ears, and he wasn’t going to shout at the top of his voice — nope, not at all.

He gritted his teeth and waited... and waited... Alright, now this was getting strange... disturbing, even. The wind skidded past him — and still, nothing. It should have been relief, but instead worry began to coil inside him.

"Are you going to land or what?"

Then doubt crept in. Was he losing his mind? Because when the creature lifted itself, his father hadn’t reacted at all — he’d stood perfectly still, almost as if inviting the thing to descend. He really wanted to watch how that would go, but he had problems of his own. But now, who’s to say he was probably not the only one going through and seeing all this?

That would have been humiliating, so no — he kept his arm raised, waiting for the thing to land, who was it joking with? Maybe it was time itself playing the tricks on him. Another quiet moment passed.

Alright. He had to look. This wasn’t just slow time.

He slowly lowered his arm and lifted his gaze.

"Oh... You finally looked. I thought you were planning to stay like that a bit longer."

It was his father’s voice.

Ajab wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was real. His father stood calmly before him, and behind him, the massive creature remained — towering, unmoving, its head lowered, seeming to get a better view of him.

His father wore a rich smile — almost proud.

"Ajab, meet Lilan, my Mystic Beast."

Ajab remained on the floor, his gaze tilted upward, confusion sitting on his face like a heavy cloak.

The creature neighed and shook its head.

Ajab’s head snapped back in reflex — did it not realize it was literally on fire?

"What? Who appears like that and scares a child if not a beast?" his father said, turning toward the creature.

It snorted, then neighed.

"As if."

It was as though they understood one another.

"Alright, fine." He turned back to Ajab.

"Ajab, meet Lilan, my Mystic Being," he said, smiling as though waiting for a reaction.

Silence stretched. Ajab only stared, still seated on the floor. What were they expecting? Applause? Was this meant to be a performance? He couldn’t tell what was happening — and what exactly had he meant by "appearing like that"?

Since Ajab remained silent on the floor, the King turned to the creature.

"I think you overdid it."

It snorted and visibly began to shrink, and within a single breath, the massive form reduced itself to the size of a normal horse.

Ajab’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. No words escaped him.

Seeing Ajab’s continued dazzle, the King turned to the creature and shook his head.

"Normal size," he said.

It shrank further, and at the sight of Lilan in her reduced form, the King gave a satisfied nod.

Ajab’s eyes had widened as far as they could. He glanced at his father — it could take that form? Dark shadows gathered beneath his eyes. Were they playing with him? Was this a joke? He was still on the floor. He had no idea how small it had become, only that it had vanished from his sight behind the King. But one fact remained clear: it could get smaller.

"Was this Father’s plan all along?"

Normally, he would care that he was on the floor, but right now, that wasn’t his problem.

His father looked at him, confusion crossing his face.

"What plan?" he asked.

"I see."

If shadows were living things, the ones circling his eyes would have been more massive than the creature’s first monstrous form.

He pushed himself up. What was he doing? He had already decided to resign— his only mistake had been following this man in the first place. What had he expected?

His eyes stayed dark as he turned to leave.

Then he paused. The small door — the one from before — was gone.

He turned back to his father, who still looked confused.

"Where is—"

He stopped himself. What other surprises would this man throw at him if he found out he wanted to leave?

It seemed he would have to delay his resignation — at least until he understood the ground he stood on.

He inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. Then stood there, unmoving, staring blankly at the King.

"Urm... You wouldn’t say hello to Lilan, even after she greeted you first?" his father asked.

The corner of Ajab’s eye twitched despite his effort to control it. So that was a greeting? Impressive.

Aside from the twitch, his face stayed unreadable.

"I thought you’d have questions," his father said.

He did — countless ones. But silence was the last thing he still owned. This man seemed to thrive on dismantling him, and he refused to offer his sanity as entertainment. His dignity was already fractured; he would not hand over the rest.

He heard another snort.

"Lilan didn’t mean to scare you."

Ajab’s eye twitched again, veins rising at his temple. Scared? Who said he’d been scared?

"I don’t know what Father is talking about. I only ended up on the floor."

His father nodded.

"Sure, sure. Of course."

Ajab sighed quietly.

Then he heard the sound of small hooves tapping against the floor. He knew it was the creature, but he couldn’t tell what it was doing. Since it had shrunk beyond his line of sight, curiosity began to grow.

He didn’t want to ask — so he chose to look.

His father stood directly in the way, so he decided to step to the side; he’d probably get a proper view. As he was about to take the step, his father’s question stopped him.

"What are you doing?" his father asked.

Ajab turned his gaze back to him. What did it look like? He had no desire to speak to him.

"I thought I said not to move alone."

Ajab’s brows furrowed. That rule had been for when it was towering... did it still apply now?

Seeing the confusion on his face, the King spoke calmly.

"If you move like before, you’ll hit the floor again."

So it hadn’t changed.

But couldn’t he have just warned him way earlier?

Maybe — just this once — he would ask a single question. Curiosity had finally won.

"What is it doing?" he asked.

The King’s brow lifted slightly.

"It? She is not an it."

Ajab met his stare. No apology came—he wasn’t offering. He simply asked again,

"What is she doing?"

"Hmm... You want to see?" the King asked.

Ajab frowned slightly. Could he now?

"Wouldn’t I hit the floor again?"

The King studied him for a few silent moments, then nodded.

"Yes."

Ajab wasn’t sure he had the energy to react to that, before the King added,

"But only if you move alone. Come."

He extended his hand toward him.

There was a small gap between them, but he really was curious. Just this once, he would take it.

He walked toward the King with long strides, his hands clasped behind his back.

The King watched him approach with an unreadable expression.

When he reached him, Ajab released his hands and placed them in his father’s.

"Good," the King said, guiding him gently across the divide. He moved him forward, positioning him between himself and Lilan, then rested his hands briefly on Ajab’s shoulders before letting go.

Now that Ajab could see her clearly, the creature was seated. She was no bigger than a foal. Her mane flowed downward in living fire. Her wings, though folded, still burned softly. Her tails flickered with dangling flames. Even from the side, he could tell — eight legs, tucked carefully beneath her body. Fire glowed beneath her hooves, flaring from under her form.

She was a creature of breathing flames.

The King’s hands remained on Ajab’s shoulders — not resting, but anchoring him.

"Well, Ajab..." he said quietly, breath warm against the side of his head,

"meet Lilan... my Mystic Being."