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The green light enveloped her foreleg before tendrils reached up and formed the shape of a dragon breathing fire.
Garnet squeaked her excitement, transformed into a wisp of red light, and zipped around the dragon’s form.
It dissipated, and the carbunclo whined.
I wondered what sort of dragons had bonded with her mother and father—and how badly she missed her family. I held out my hands, cupping them together. “It’s okay, baby girl. It was an illusion like the sign said. I can take you back to the cell store so you can see a dragon soon, okay?”
Garnet returned to my shoulder, transformed, and crowded against my neck, continuing to whine.
The poor baby. I petted her, cooing reassurances to her.
Rather than upset the kitten with another illusion, I photographed the shrine before heading to the lead shrine.
A blocky grayish crystal rested on a silvery dais, and a placard informed me that the lead dragons of Dragon Heights preferred allowing nature to do as it would. A warning advised me against licking, biting, or otherwise interacting with the shrine, as lead could be quite toxic.
A footnote informed me that all guests who ignored the warning were liable for their medical bills.
I wondered what sort of magic imbued the stone—and how toxic lead was on its own. Curious, I dug out my phone and checked the internet to determine its toxicity surpassed my expectations.
Even touching it without thorough washing could cause lead poisoning.
I kept my distance, warned Garnet about the hazards of lead, and left before we might be exposed to its dangers.
Following my father’s advice, I headed for the purple shrine. Upon arrival, a myriad of amethyst crystals sparkled in the late afternoon light. I appreciated the shrine’s beauty despite my regrets of how my heritage had driven me away from my home. Wind blew through the trees, and the light reflected on the stone. Garnet squeaked, and I set her down so she could play, giggling at her effort to bat at the patterns created by the encroaching storm. I took photos, mostly of her, and waited until she panted to put an end to her play, picking her up. She settled on my shoulder, allowing me to take photographs of everything while I explored Shrine Hill.
Aware of the storm brewing overhead, I hurried along, blitzing through the rest of the shrines. Yellow featured a plain box lacking adornment. The mercury shrine consisted of a glass ball filled with the metallic liquid, which I gave a wide berth.
Stone kitten paws would destroy such a thing, and I had no desire to go mad from mercury poisoning.
The navy shrine featured a bowl of water, dyed to be a deep blue color, with a placard declaring the oceans to be the cradle of life. The iron shrine featured a sword in a stone with a placard challenging users to become the next King Arthur. As I had no desire to rule anything, I told Garnet the tale of the legendary king on the way to the tin shrine. Upon seeing the can opener on top of a platform designed to resemble a jar of spaghetti sauce, I laughed until I cried. I took photographs, wiped my eyes, and told Garnet I would explain the why of my amusement later.
The white shrine featured a marble dais topped with clear quartz, and the first drops of rain came down from the sky. As I didn’t want to ruin my new camera, I packed it into my backpack, made use of the rain cover to keep everything dry, and moved to my phone to keep taking pictures. Aware I’d get soaked, I sped up my pace, one eye on the sky while following the map in the failing light. Rather than follow the theme of the other shrines, the red one featured a mix of red stone roses and rose plants. The pink shrine, situated next to the red one, blended white and red roses with pink ones scattered between them.
Garnet wanted to sniff the roses, and while I wanted to get us out of the rain, I indulged her, praising her curiosity and calm handling of the souring weather.
At the tan shrine, which was yet another box on a stone platform, the rain fell in earnest. With only three shrines left to visit, I refused to give up, trudging to the titanium shrine to discover it was fashioned into the shape of an infinity loop.
That made sense, as those dragons might live forever with their general durability.
Fortunately for us, the chrome shrine was located near the black one. Not even the deepening darkness could mask the shine on the chrome box.
The black box devoured all light, and curious, I turned on the flash on my phone to discover some magic ate the illumination. I wondered about that, as the black dragons were known for ferreting out secrets. I’d have to ask my father about that later. With my mission completed, I picked my way down Shrine Hill, cursing myself for having delayed through taking the bus. In the twenty minutes it took me to reach the bottom without falling, the skies opened up and dumped cold sheets of rain down on my head in a torrent. I sheltered Garnet in my jacket, headed for the nearest bus stop, and made use of my phone to summon a cab to take us home.
During the wait, I wondered what had kept everyone away from Shrine Hill except for me.
What was going on in Dragon Heights, and what did the pilgrims have to do with it if anything? Whatever it was, it was strange—and it was powerful.
As such, I worried.
TEN
Garnet loved storms.
Friday, April 24, 2167
The Gray Ward
Dragon Heights, Wyoming