Daughter Made of Fire

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

Humans did not interact with or know about dragons for over a millennium. They were a folktale told to children before bed to scare them into obedience.

"The firebreathers are dangerous and bloodthirsty creatures who eat small children," they would say. "They fly down from the sky to snatch wandering and deviant children."

It's funny, the stories they have come up with about my kind. The little humans think us so scary and destructive when they are the ones who wage war continuously and never learn from their history. We would rather stay in our underworld and live in peace than ever surface and deal with the irrational men. We hide for our protection.

Dragons can not only blend with humans by shifting but we are made of some of the purest magic ever to exist. We gain our abilities from the four affinities: Earth, Fire, Water, and Air. Our skin is impenetrable in our dragon form, and we heal incredibly quickly in our human forms. We can control the elements and shield ourselves from sight at will. Our speed and strength are ten times that of man. But our one weakness is the Death Ruin. It is an amulet so black it is like ink and is cold as ice. It can draw life from a dragon. The wielder's intent must be to harm, and any dragon near will be in immediate danger. The amulet devours pure energy, leaving us with only minutes to live as it drains our power.

And Queen Shaddon, the strongest and most vicious mage in the Valley, wants it. She is hunting us down, or more specifically me.

I was banished from Ignara three years ago, believed to be defective in blood. I do not present ordinary gifts for a dragon. I cannot shift into my proper dragon form. Those who cannot call their fire are labelled impure and cast out. My gifts are different than my family or any other dragon in the realm. I am the only one who can manipulate shadow and vanish in the dark. Since I was a child, I would shroud myself in the darkness and hide from everyone, finding sanctuary in the crevices of Ignara's walls. The Elders believe that I do not have the fire in me because I am defective. But they are wrong; my dragon is with me constantly; she is the force of my rage, stubbornness, and impulsiveness. Her voice in my head is nearly overwhelming at times, but she protects me from danger, and I know that there is nothing wrong with me. That there is nothing wrong with being different. I may look human, but I have the heart of a dragon, and that is something they cannot banish.

I am not the first of my kind to be sent to the surface to live out their days as a human, but I am the only one within the last three hundred years.

With the Death Ruin in my possession now, I am the biggest threat to Queen Shaddon and the Elders. If either catches me, the best I can hope for is imprisonment for life. It's torture, no doubt if it's the Queen who finds me first, and forever in solitary if it's the Elders. I almost wish I did not live for centuries or heal so quickly. Death sounds pleasant at times, and now that I know the Ruin does not work on me, it will be natural causes that will be my demise.

Or maybe the cursed arrow is protruding from my left shoulder. I let my guard down for one minute, and someone shoots me in the back. Coward.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you, dragon," a husky voice calls behind me.

I ignore the warning and reach back to yank at the arrow's shaft. Pain like I have never felt before explodes, and I release a scream through clenched teeth. I hunch forward, bracing my weight on my right arm, fingers digging into the dirt floor of the forest as my left arm hangs uselessly. The wet earth seeps into my pants and leaves my knees uncomfortably damp. Panting, I shove myself up, sitting on my heels, sweat beading down my temples.

"I told you."

I scowl and slowly look over my right shoulder to glare at my attacker. It is a young woman in her mid-twenties with dark bronze skin and black hair falling from a single braid down her back. Her blue-grey eyes are alight with amusement, and I long to wipe that smirk off her angular face.

Her features are all too familiar, and I release a rough chuckle as I get to my feet and face the woman.

"You certainly got your mother's mannerisms, didn't you, Princess? Shooting an unarmed traveller in the back is exactly her style. Cowardly and pitiful," I spit, taking two steps forward.

My dragon rages against the barrier in my mind and snarls when the princess aims with her bow again. I lift my chin and smirk. "Do it. Release that arrow and see how well that works now that I can see it coming."

Without hesitation, the princess fires. My eyes narrow on the projectile and watch as it flies directly toward my forehead; time slows, and at the last second, my right hand snaps up to catch the arrow by the shaft, the arrow's tip brushing the skin between my eyes.

I flex my fist, and the arrow snaps in two.

I glance at the princess and toss the pieces aside casually, watching as her throat bobs and her eyes flick toward the broken arrow, then back to my face. She is nervous for the first time since finding me. Good.

"Your turn," I whisper.

Even with the arrow protruding from my back and pain radiating from the wound, I still have my speed and strength, though I can tell they are slowly weakening. I sprint toward the Princess. In a blink, I have her pressed against the nearest tree, dagger digging into the underside of her jaw.

She inhales as I tower over her, her head coming to my nose. I lean down closer and let my eyes flash gold to add to the intimidation. My dragon huffs in approval, and I allow her to come forth a little, drawing on her power to help with the arrow wound. Immediately, the pain lessens to a dull throbbing, and the arrowhead's magic has lost its effectiveness. I may not be able to shift into my dragon form, but I can manipulate her power.

"Well, get on with it," The princess hisses, lifting her chin defiantly and pressing closer to the blade, drawing a thin stream of blood across her neck.

"Oh, I am not going to kill you, Princess. No, that would be too easy. No, I want you and your mother to understand that I am not someone to mess with. You are my leverage. You Briar Dreyk are my prisoner."

Briar's eyes widen, and I don't hesitate to use the hilt of my dagger to hit her across the head. She grunts and slumps forward, her unconscious form falling into me. I scoop her up and toss her over my shoulder before heading toward my rucksack lying a few feet away. I pick it up, sling it over my other shoulder, and shake my head—what a way to start the morning.

"You should have killed her, Kaida," my dragon hisses in my mind and I roll my eyes.

"We don't kill, Rael."

"She will be the death of you."

"I can't be killed, remember?" I point out with a huff, and Rael growls lowly, prowling my mind.

"We do not know this for certain. Briar has caused you harm already. She will break you. You are too weak for a pretty face."

I sigh and focus on the sun rising on the horizon before me as I begin to descend the rocky hillside.

"I do not fall for a pretty face. Stop being dramatic, Rael."

"You feel attraction toward her already. I am not being dramatic."

I grimace and ignore the heat gracing my cheeks. Sometimes I hate having this intimate bond. Privacy is none existent.

I block out Rael and focus on holding Briar securely and finding my new hiding place. Hopefully, Briar and I can have a civilized conversation without weapons when she wakes.