The Dragon and the Witch by K.T. Tomb

before the sun falls from the sky.”
    “And what do you need to know, child?”
    I lifted my head and pressed my shoulders back. To utter these words to anyone could have serious repercussions, but I needed to know. “Am I a… witch?”
    There was a tug at the corner of his lips. A tug that made me feel even more uncomfortable. His clouded eyes stared at me as if he could actually see me and yet, I knew he was completely blind.
    “Give me your hand,” he said, reaching out for mine.
    I shook my head, knowing damn well he couldn’t see me do it. But as if he heard the whisk of the wind when my head moved from side to side, he reached out and took it, his grip firm yet gentle. His aged hands were covered in brown spots and skin that was wrinkled around knobby knuckles. His fingernails were long and yellow, yet thick and strong.
    My heart raced. Anticipation of what this old man would conjure up to tell me as well as a nervous fluttering in my stomach while I waited for him to speak. Either way, I didn’t pull my hand away.
    “Child.” His eyes opened and the once-clouded irises were now all white. Then they closed again. “Your future is short. Disturbingly short.”
    “What?” I nearly shrieked.
    “But your past is full of love. And that love is what will stand in the way of your future.”
    “What does that mean?” I asked, my eyebrows forced together at the bridge of my nose. My heart relentlessly pounded at my chest. It’s not every day someone tells me that I’m going to die soon.
    When he opened his eyes again, the white irises were once again filled with a cloudy hazel color. “He has always loved you. There will be a time that you question that love.”
    “Who?”
    “The one you call Father. Tolbalth.”
    “How do you know my father’s name? Who are you?”
    “I was mentored a wee dragon who was a curious boy.” The old man turned and walked toward a shelf where he rearranged a row of books. “He absorbed everything I taught him and he grew to be a great leader.”
    “Chay? But how? My father said you’re dead.”
    He turned to face me, his hands resting on the back of a chair. “Death means different things to different individuals, Zadie. My body is gone, but as you can see, I’m still alive and well.” He lifted his arms to display his place.
    “Have you always been here?”
    “For centuries. You just couldn’t see me until now.” He glanced from Piku back to me. “Your tiger doesn’t have the ability to see me unless it’s through your eyes. He carried you on his back and so the connection between you two is very strong.”
    “Why can I see you now?”
    “You’re eighteen. You’ve come into your powers and yet, I can tell those powers confuse you.”
    “What am I? Why did my mother leave me? Did she not love me?”
    “Don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answer to, child.”
    I grabbed my braid and twisted it over my shoulder. “I need to know and no one will tell me.”
    “And in knowing, will that change who you are?”
    “No, of course not. But I have powers I don’t understand and dreams of my mother that make no sense. So, tell me what I am. I need to know, so I can understand these changes. I’m not a dragon. I’m not an animal and yet, I can talk to them, and I’m not a human because I can do things humans can’t do. So, what am I?”
    The old man took a deep breath and turned around again, running his fingertips over a small, wooden carved statue of a dragon.
    “It matters not,” he said with his back toward me.
    “It matters to me .”
    “Yes, I suppose it would.”
    “Then tell me, please.” I went to him with my hands clasped together, begging him to give me the knowledge I needed to know and understand. For the first time, I believed I’d found someone who could tell me what I was and what my life meant.
    He turned slowly and when I looked into his eyes, I saw a sorrowful tenderness that made me feel uneasy. I wasn’t sure if it was a