She voiced her complaints, her words steeped in bitterness. “I hate it when they force my actions, don’t you?” She cast an expectant glance at my way, but I remained silent. I had retreated to the farthest corner of the room, as close to the door that led to the previous chamber as I could get, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. She sensed my fears and endeavored to assuage them. “Look, I know that our introduction was less than ideal, and I regret my actions, but see? Everything turned out fine. I was in control.”

I shot her a withering look and retorted, “Really? Were you? You could’ve inflicted a minor wound instead of nearly severing my arm. You couldn’t have done something more painful! Honestly.” She frowned and responded, “There’s no call for such hostility. I've apologized. But consider this, my claws are large, and you’re fragile and small, so it’s easy to unintentionally cause more harm than intended. I had no intention of injuring you so badly. But you could’ve avoided moving your arm like that and making your wound even worse.” I countered, “I don’t trust you enough to allow you to deliberately hurt me. We just met, for heaven's sake! What did you expect? That I’d just allow a stranger to harm me, to demonstrate a power that I was oblivious to, without any explanation?”

She fell silent, seemingly taken aback. I was about to press on when she interrupted the silence to say, “I’ll give you a moment to calm down. And I repeat: I'm truly sorry. I didn’t mean to. However, I needed to prove your divine origins, as I saw them. You’ll understand better soon. Hopefully. I’ll wait for your questions. But first, please, calm down. Saint Raphael.”

Her last words stirred a dormant memory within me. I took a moment to digest her words, reflect, and dissect her intentions. She sounded sincere. And it was clear that she too needed a moment to regain her emotional equilibrium. Our confrontation had escalated rapidly. We were both speaking at a heated pace and it was time to slow down. I tried to empathize with her, being treated and dismissed as if she had no right to voice her opinion. They didn’t object to her methods of harming me. Maybe they didn’t truly care about me, or perhaps it was a bit of both. Eventually, I managed to calm down, and when I looked at her again, she was staring at a wall as if contemplating ramming her head into it. She was whispering something barely audible, like a prayer: “Please take me back to the Bright City.”

I was unsure of what it meant, but it was evident she had her own demons to battle. As did I, struggling to comprehend this reality and survive. Or perhaps to find a purpose. I mustered up some courage and shattered the awkward silence. “You mentioned earlier that you needed to speak with me. What did you want to ask? I accept your apology. We can carry on as if nothing happened.” The silence was becoming childish. She appeared mature enough to know better, and although discerning a dragon’s age was beyond my capabilities, she seemed younger than the others.

She didn’t respond but ceased whispering. She was all ears. “Akira, are you there?”

She inhaled deeply. “What do you want now?”

Baffled, I queried, “Didn’t you have a question for me?”

She responded, “Indeed, I did. But I’m uncertain if I should ask.”

I expressed my curiosity too. “Is there something you fear?”

She scoffed. “I? Fear? Certainly not.”

I ribbed her. “Not even a sacred creature next to you?”

She swiveled her massive head towards me with a surprised expression and quizzed, “What sacred qualities do you possess?”

I responded, “Didn’t you just refer to me as a Saint?”

She replied, “Only because that’s what they referred to you as.”

Unsure if she was referring to someone real or imagined, I sought clarification, “Who do you mean by 'they'?”

She pondered for a moment before responding, “I had a vision. There were two of you, maybe a third, or rather, four. After that, I saw nothing but your abrupt appearance here, and later I had a subsequent vision of you here. That’s all I can disclose. I’m forbidden to reveal more, even if the visions involve you and others. I apologize.”

I conceded, “Guess I’ll have to discover for myself in the future.”

She concurred, “Indeed, you will. The future is unalterable.”

That statement was puzzling.

I probed further, “Does the future seem promising or not?”

She responded, “It hinges on how far into the future you peer. At times it’s promising, at others, not so much. For some, it is. For others, it’s a waking nightmare. For me, it's all rather boring.”

I didn't reply. What did she mean by 'how far'? What was that? I waited, expecting her to pose a question. For some reason, now I found myself in the role of the inquirer.

Finally, she posed a question. “Tell me, what do you recall from before your arrival here?”

I heard her question, then attempted to describe heaven and all I had witnessed. She seemed to comprehend, and as she responded, I began to formulate theories about this other realm of the light dragons. I shared my theories with her, and she replied, “That sounds akin to what I perceive when I delve too far into my visions. A realm of tranquility, yet the most monotonous one I could ever conceive.”

I responded, “I don’t believe that’s necessarily dull. It’s merely a transitory phase, I believe.”

She inquired, “How can you tell that?”

I confidently responded, “Because I arrived here after that stage. It was a mere transition. I believe.”

She looked exasperated and said, “How disappointing.”

I apologized, “I’m sorry, I can only share what I know.”

She proposed, “Very well, let’s shift the topic. What abilities do you believe you possess?”

Confused by the question, I responded, “I’m not sure. I can heal myself at a faster rate than normal. That’s all I’m aware of.”

She chuckled. “Indeed, that’s a minor ability but you are capable of much more. You mentioned you had wings? I saw that you were mastering to manifest a new pair at will. You won’t be wingless for long. Here, creatures without wings don't last. You, however, must.”

I responded, “That sounds amazing! But how can I manifest them? Is it akin to the healing power I demonstrated earlier?”

In a tone that was serious yet tinged with sarcasm, she said: “If I were to hurl you from that window and let you plummet hundreds of meters to certain death, you’d have no choice but to manifest them.”

Her words felt threatening, but I soon detected sarcasm. “Ahaha, funny. But that’s not going to happen, right?”

In a mischievous tone, she said, “Who knows? Dare to try it?”

I felt a surge of power coursing through me, giving me an illusion of immortality and I remained rooted to the spot.

She expected me to retreat and said, “What? Aren’t you fleeing so I can’t catch you and toss you out the window?”

I responded, “Do you have a valid reason to? Besides, if I were to vanish abruptly, wouldn’t they start interrogating you?”

She gave me a bewildered look and said, “You make a valid point. Perhaps you're not just a simple, peculiar ape.”

I met her gaze, and she added, “What? Did I say something inappropriate?”

I responded with disappointment, “You’re not the first to label me that, but I’ll allow you to find the differences between me and an ape. Also, why does everyone here refer to apes? Are there apes in this world?”

She scrutinized me and said, “Hmm, yes, there are some differences. First, you’re smaller. Your physique appears thinner and weaker. You lack a tail, and your ears are barely visible. You don’t possess the same head. And you’re also hairless.”

I interrupted her, “Hairless? I’m not hairless. I still have hair! See?”

She seemed taken aback and then said, “I thought you wanted me to highlight the differences. I’m merely being honest.”

I didn't wish to argue again, so I let it slide. I just said, “Fine, anyway, do I still resemble an ape then?”

She responded, “In all other aspects, yes.”

I replied, somewhat irked, “This is becoming insulting. Please add this new species to your catalogue. I’m a human. Thank you.”

She retorted sarcastically, “Sure, I’ll add humans to the variants of apes.”

I insisted, “Seriously? No, don’t. Create an entirely new category.”

So, she conceded, “Fine, I’ll add humans to the category of eccentric aliens.”

That was a slight improvement. Not perfect, but better. “That’s better, thanks.”

Our conversation had led us to discover little to nothing, and suddenly we were interrupted.