A Fiery Magic

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. For generations, they’d been extinct. Like dinosaurs, they were studied in schools, replicated in museums, and referred to throughout history as creatures from the past that no longer posed a threat.

All evidence of giant, fire-breathing reptiles that controlled the sky and terrorized the planet for close to a decade disappeared in an instant—at the exact moment the sun had exploded and scattered into a million little pieces throughout the atmosphere.

The darkness that followed had turned the world upside down, forcing citizens from all walks of life to work together for the greater good. The Drudges. The Diehards. The Polymanas. The Crew. Everyone took part in the rebuilding of Scrum Valley, and their efforts paid off. Their new normal proved to be a better version of the community they once knew—free of debilitating fear and endless conflict, despite the complete void of natural light.

Floating face up in the pond behind his house, 15-year-old Augerie squeezed his eyes shut and pretended not to hear Aunt Armala calling him to come inside.

“Time to eat!” Her voice cut through the shadows with a sharpness he despised. She was nothing like his mother—her sister—who would have gently announced that dinner was on the table but encouraged him not to hurry. Best to dry off to avoid tracking mud through the house.

The familiar ache in his chest started to swell as the pounding of his heart drowned out the water lapping in and out of his ears. Augerie choked on his grief, wheezing for breath and suddenly afraid that he might sink. His parents’ tragic death haunted him daily, but sometimes the images were more vivid than others. In moments like this, he wished that he had died alongside them, perished in the crash brought on by a massive fireball striking from nowhere.

The abrupt plop of something plunking into the pond made his body jerk. Augerie sprang upright, treading water and checking to see if he could touch bottom. Nope. Too deep. A splashing sound surrounded him, and an intense current swelled around his ankles. What was going on? There hadn’t been fish in the pond for as long as he could remember. Or any sign of life for that matter. Gone with so many of the cold-blooded victims of climate change.

The dim light coming from a nearby fallout shelter illuminated his way as he tried to swim toward safety. His arms were weak against the suspicious surge. Suddenly, the silhouette of a grapefruit-sized orb came into focus. Augerie reached for it, grasped for it twice before finally snatching it in his hand. The pond went still—immediately. As if someone had flipped a switch.

Easily making his way to the shallow end of the pond, Augerie dug his feet into the sludge at the bottom and examined the object in his hand. He was surprised at how cold it felt. His fingers numbed as soon as he wrapped them around the hard exterior of what felt like a grenade but resembled a dog toy. The serrated texture of the mysterious sphere puzzled him. In a strange way, it comforted him too.

“Augerie! Where are you?” His aunt’s screeching voice broke the silence of the evening air and sent shockwaves buzzing through his body as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“Coming!” He scampered out of the water and ran from the pond with his discovery gripped tight. Taking the porch stairs two at a time, he flung open the door to the kitchen before catching his aunt’s stare. He stopped short to wipe his bare feet on the mat, scraping them so hard he half-expected to leave a layer of skin behind.

Finally satisfied that it was safe to go inside, he tried to move past her. Aunt Armala’s oversized frame blocked the entryway and prevented him from getting too far.

“What’s that in your hand?” she barked.

“Nothing.” His eyes darted toward the splintered planks on the wood floor. He yanked the orb behind his back as a scorching pain singed his palm. Gritting his teeth, he inched backward onto the porch, dangerously close to the edge of the steps.

“Don’t nothing me! Give me that!” His aunt lunged at him and wrapped her long arms around his body. She pulled him closer, squeezing his ribs and reaching for his burning hand.

The clatter of running footsteps stole her attention and Aunt Armala spun around to block his younger brother from charging into them both.

“Whoa! Slow down, Ezraten!” She grabbed hold of his shoulders and guided him inside toward the sink. “Wash your hands and sit down at the table.” Glancing backward at Augerie, she said, “You too. And whatever you’re hiding from me, get rid of it—now.”

Augerie turned and ran back down the porch stairs, dropping the orb into a planter around the corner that was overflowing with weeds—untouched ever since his mom had died. He contemplated whether to bury the object further in the dirt but needed to hurry. He didn’t want Aunt Armala to discover his hiding spot, rushing instead to camouflage the sphere amidst the leaves.

Without warning, the weeds wilted, then shriveled up and died. The planter itself pulsated—aggressively. As if it had just been gifted the transplant of a beating heart. What the hell? Was it breathing? Something was living inside that thing. How could that be? And was it his imagination, or was the sphere growing in size?

“Augerie!” Aunt Armala bellowed. “This is your final warning! If you don’t get your ass in here, you’re headed to bed without supper!”

He knew better than to press his luck. The orb he’d found in the pond was intriguing, maybe even dangerous. But nothing could be more dangerous at that moment than wasting one more second outside. After shoving the planter through a gaping hole in the side of the porch, he came close to saying a prayer. Too bad he didn’t believe in God anymore. If a supreme being ever existed, it too had vanished like the light.

After dinner, Aunt Armala moved to the family room and turned on the television that hovered above the fireplace like a drone. She’d been overly excited to purchase the TV after their parents’ death—undoubtedly with the insurance money that rightfully belonged to him and Ezraten.

“You two can clean the kitchen while I watch the news,” she said, settling into the leather recliner that was once reserved for Dad. No one besides Aunt Armala cared to sit it in now.

His brother groaned but Augerie hurried to clear the table. The quicker they finished, the sooner he could return to the planter. A peculiar compulsion had taken over his thoughts. He desperately needed to know what was inside that orb.

Maybe he could smash it open. Picturing the sledgehammer that hung untouched in the garage for years, he wondered whether it was still there. If so, that should do the trick. If not, perhaps he could stomp on it. He could change into his hiking boots, the ones with the hard plastic soles, and bust it wide open with the weight of his whole body.

But what if there was something alive inside that thing? If he cracked it open, would it attack him? Maybe he should leave it alone, even return it to the pond. One of Dad’s favorite sayings had been, “Curiosity killed the cat.” Is that what his father would have warned if he’d been standing there today? And would Augerie have listened? Probably not. He was convinced the bizarre sphere held secrets. Secrets he would do anything to reveal.

Ezraten opened the dishwasher and stacked their dinner plates inside. “Do you think she’s deaf?” he said, tipping his head in the direction of the family room where the volume on the television was blaring full blast.

“I heard that,” their aunt shrieked. “I can’t hear the news over all that banging around in there. You better not break my dishes!”

“Geez,” Augerie said. “She can hear what you’re saying to me, but not what’s coming from the television. I swear she’s got bionic ears that turn on and off at will.”

Ezraten laughed and continued to load the dishwasher. The nasally voice of a female reporter could be heard coming from the other room. Augerie ran a dishrag under the kitchen faucet while listening to the news report.

“Breaking news!” The reporter declared. “Foreign objects fall from the sky, leaving thousands of Scrummites begging for answers about what this could mean. Are we being invaded? Attacked from a neighboring world? Anyone who encounters a hard-shelled ball like the one shown here is urged to contact the Minister of Unexplained Phenomena right away. Don’t touch it. Don’t move it. Just report it immediately.”

A shiver shot up Augerie’s spine. Still holding the dripping wet dishrag, he wandered into the family room to peek at the image displayed on the screen. His mouth fell open at the sight of a grapefruit-sized orb that looked exactly like the one he’d pulled from the pond. The object that had seemingly sucked the life out of the weeds in the planter and burned his skin as if he’d handled a block of dry ice.

Ezraten sprung up behind him, tugged at his shirt, and tried to jockey his way through the narrow opening between the kitchen and the family room. Augerie remained frozen in place and shooed his brother aside.

“Hey, hey!” Ezraten nagged. “Move out of the way! I want to see what they’re talking about too.”

Augerie allowed his brother to pass through, never taking his eyes off the television. His mind raced about what to do next as the contact information for the Minister’s office scrolled across the bottom of the screen. He pulled out his phone to take a picture of it for later, not wanting to make that call until his aunt was out of earshot. It looked as if she’d fallen asleep in the chair, but he could never be sure whether she was faking.

“Let’s get this kitchen finished.” He grabbed Ezraten by the ear and pulled him back through the doorway.

“Wait, wait!” Ezraten stuttered. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” Augerie said.

“That thing on the news! That ball in the picture!” Ezraten’s eyes widened as he wiggled his hands frantically in front of his face. He gnawed on his bottom lip the same way he did each time he begged for more detail about the death of their parents—a truth that Augerie never intended to share. But the frown on his brother’s face screamed “Help me, I’m scared.”

“What?” Augerie said. “Settle down! What are you trying to say?”

“We need to call the Minister’s office,” he stammered.

“What? Why?” Augerie squeezed the dishrag in his hands, allowing a stream of water to flood the wood floor.

“I know what those are.” The urgency in his brother’s voice made Augerie’s pulse rate skyrocket.

Tossing the dishrag across the room and into the sink, he grabbed hold of Ezraten’s forearms and gently shook him. “Spit it out. What are they? How do you know?”

“They’re eggs,” he said. “We learned about them in science class. There’s a picture of them in our learning module.”

“Eggs? What kind of eggs?”

“Dragon eggs,” he said.

“That’s impossible,” Augerie said. “Dragons died off a long time ago̦—long before we were born.”

“Nope. I’m sure of it,” Ezraten said. “And there’s more.”

Augerie raised an eyebrow and glared at his brother. What more could there be? His tale was already beyond absurd.

Ezraten continued. “My teacher says that a return of the dragons is predicted in the near future, and when that happens, there’s a chance we can restore light to our planet.”

“That would be nice.” Augerie paused, unsure whether to challenge the middle-school teacher’s ridiculous theory or Ezraten’s overactive imagination.

Under normal circumstances, he probably would have dismissed the crazy idea altogether. But something strange was happening. He couldn’t let it go. “Do they have any proof to support this?”

“Not yet, but they’re getting close!” Ezraten’s hands wiggled frantically again. “Scientists have been looking for evidence that the sun could rise again. Maybe it’s the dragon eggs. My teacher says life is like a circle. That history always repeats itself. And when something from our past reappears—like the dragons—other things could start coming back too.”

A brush of hope swept lightly across Augerie’s heart like a feather. He had read about rekarmanation—a radical theory suggesting that some beings can come back to life exactly as they were before they died. Not like reincarnation where souls return in different physical forms, but more like they can slip in and out of a time machine.

Augerie desperately wanted to believe in the notion after his parents had died, but it sounded way too farfetched. And he’d never heard the part about traveling through time together with other things. Even if they did, light wasn’t the only thing that had gone missing in recent years. He was skeptical about the sun returning along with the dragons, the same way he doubted that they’d ever see their mom and dad again.

But stranger things had happened since the days when dragons and dinosaurs ruled the planet.

Finding what could be a dragon egg in his pond meant something, especially knowing that others were apparently popping up elsewhere. He needed to contact the Minister’s office right away.

According to folklore, things were bad enough when dragons ruled a sky full of light. In darkness, their reign over the Valley could be even more unpredictable, more horrifying, and more deadly.

Augerie ran outside to the hiding spot under the porch. The planter was easy to see once he flipped on the bright porch light. Good thing his aunt had never come back outside. But someone else had been there, lurking in the dark. The planter had been knocked on its side and split in two, leaving piles of dirt and broken weeds scattered around it.

He squinted and bent closer to inspect the damage, clutching his neck with both hands once he realized that what he was looking at was surely an egg—one that had doubled in size since he put it there. And like the planter, the egg was split in half. Both pieces of the shell sat open and empty.

Out of the blue, a warm wind blew through Augerie’s hair. Rapidly picking up speed, a gust of air pushed him sideways and knocked him to the ground. The powerful flutter of a large and expanding wingspan could be felt circling overhead.

Even before Augerie looked up at the sky, he knew what was happening.

The absence of the Valley’s most ruthless enemy in history was over. The dragons had returned.