Myths and Legends

There weren't always dragons in the Valley...

Then again, maybe there were, and we simply exist without the capacity to see such magic. Perhaps humans are far too ordinary. For as long as I can remember, dragons were nothing more than mere myths. Legends. Meant to be monsters of imagination. Stories to be told around a campfire. They were symbols of fantasy and folklore that never strayed too far from a terrified princess, a noble knight, or a pile of treasure.

The Emerald Valley has always felt like a magical place to me. Brilliant rolling fields stretch on for miles on all sides of the small merchant village I live in. When I was a child, I would sneak out to the hills at dawn, just as the sun peaked out from beyond the clouds, to just run. It had often felt like I was on wing rather than legs, that the trumping of fast feet was just the steady beating of my adventurous heart as I soared across the glades. Was it so impossible to believe in dragons in such a magical place? Though, with light comes darkness, and if the meadows were all sunshine and pleasantries, the Woodcutters Forest was all shadows and intrigue. I would always accompany my father when he would go gathering or trapping and there was just something about those woods that made me feel uneasy. No matter how bright the day was, the never-ending labyrinth of trees stayed cold and dark. Standing in the woods was like being underwater, the silence was oddly deafening, like the forest was alive, yet dead all the same, and the deeper you went, the more it felt like drowning was inevitable. I had mentioned my anxiety regarding the woods to my father after my very first visit. He hadn't been particularly concerned.

"It's all in your head Sweet Pea." he'd said, smiling softly. "There's nothing to be scared of, I promise." He ruffled my hair before starting back towards the village.

In my father's defense, I had only been four at the time, it was understandable that he perceived me as just a frightened young girl, afraid of the dark. I've never brought the subject up with him again, though. It's been eleven years, and still my feelings towards the forest have never wavered from that first eerie impression. Something was wrong about that place. Maybe it was cursed. Maybe that's why we're all doomed to suffer.

I remember it like it was yesterday, the day everything changed. I have yet to discover anything that can compare to the warmth my body was so lovingly absorbing as I lay in the meadow just beyond the village. With the sun beating down on me it was easy to forget that a place so cold as the forest could even exist. I stretched my arms back, groaning at the sensation as I positioned them comfortably behind my head. The grass was the sun's soothing adversary, a shiver running down my spine as the morning dew bled through the back of my clothes. Even from so far away, the salty sweet aroma of the Northern Ocean clung to the air, mixing harmoniously with the scent of spring flowers and baking bread. I inhaled deeply, doing everything in my power to withhold sleep from my motionless form, I did have things to do today. Time seemed to melt around me, I couldn't seem to focus my eyes on anything. Before I could comprehend what was happening, the weather turned so rapidly. I would have thought it was impossible had I not been right there to witness it myself. Suddenly I was running. Thunder rumbled above me in the now grey sky, the trees wailed in protest at the blistering winds battering them, and with every fall of my feet, my heart hammered harder and harder. I made it to the village just as the rain started and the first strike of lightning flashed across the sky. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. My heart was beating like a hummingbird. I had to get home.

I was as far as the marketplace when I heard it. My blood turned to ice in my veins. It was the most horrible sound I had ever heard, a guttural screaming, an echo of death. My hands shot up instinctively to cover my ears. people were coming out of their houses now, looking around baffled as to what could possibly be making such a horrid sound. It took one single second. One measly little second for the thing to swoop into view, for us to take in the dark scaly beast with its withered black wings, sweeping razor tail, and immense talons, lightning flashing dramatically behind the creature. One second for us all to pray one final time, before we ran. We had been wrong, so very wrong. About everything. Dragons were not myths or legends, but horrible bloodthirsty demons. Abominations. They are more real than we could have imagined. And much. More. Terrifying. My eyes went wide in terror as the monstrous black thing came down at us, flashing it's razor sharp teeth in a grim snarl, and then the flames rained down around us.

I had no idea how I had managed to escape into the woods. My memory was hazy. Pillars of smoke were rising rapidly above the tree line from the pyres of burning buildings. I could still hear the shrieks of panic as another monstrous roar echoed through the valley. Dragons were real?

"Dragons." I breathed heavily, utterly stunned.

I was panicking now, pacing the edge of the woods. The more I tried to steady myself, the more dizzy I felt. I was about to pass out, there was no stopping it. The sudden cracking of twigs and rustle of leaves behind broke through my panic and I froze. I wasn't alone. My body moved slowly, sluggishly. Turning around took more effort than it would have taken me to run away but at the same time, not as much effort as it took to breathe. I couldn't move. There I stood, shaking like a leaf, face to face with another dragon. Albeit, the dragon stood a good nine feet from me, but I was no less terrified. As far as he was, I could still feel his hot breath on my skin. I was frightened yes, but also intrigued, memorized by this creature. This one wasn't like the other one. Rather than being black, long, and bat-like, this dragon was a blinding, shimmering gold. From what I could see of his wings, there was no resemblance to a bat whatsoever. His wings were strong and smooth and huge. What would his wingspan stretch to, I wondered. His form was sturdy and proud, as if a lion could've become a winged serpent. There was curiosity behind his dark auburn eyes as he watched me. He seemed just as interested in me as I was in him. For the first time in my life, the trees in the forest shifted, and what sunlight had managed to break through the heavy storm clouds was now peeking through into the woods. The cold, dark forest suddenly became a world of green light. Beams of warm sunlight struck the dragon from every side, his golden scales glittering like a million gems. He was still watching me as I studied his form. I finally focused my attention on his face, weathered with age and wisdom, yet not without heart. At last, I met the beast's great intelligent eyes. If it wasn't a dragon I was staring at, I would have sworn it was smiling softly at me.

"What do you want?" I whispered in shock, closer to tears now than I had been in years, though from fear or astonishment, I wasn't sure.

"You." He said plainly.

His voice was clear and strong yet gentle as he spoke, though he never actually moved an inch, he just kept his eyes on mine. His voice was a calm, low velvet, something that I would've associated with a king, never a dragon. Somehow, despite his answer to my question, I had never felt safer than I did now, standing in the gaze of this breathtaking creature. I knew he would never hurt me. I nodded once, agreeing to his terms before I reached my hand up hesitantly. I wanted nothing more than to touch his shining scales. I pondered curiously, wondering if his golden face would be hard as metal or soft as skin.

I woke suddenly, breathing heavy gasps of air. A cold sweat had broken out over my clammy skin while I tossed and turned. I sat up in my bed, ignoring the ache in my limbs as I ran my hands through my thick waves of dark hair. My eyes stared unfocused as I kept my breathing shallow and attempted to control the racing in my chest. I forced myself to listen to the heavy thrum of rain pelting against the roof. A useless attempt at distracting myself from the images swirling in my mind. Raindrops splattered angrily through the open window on the wall across from my bed. A frustrated sigh escaped me as I threw back my covers and crept to the window. The window slid shut with a soft thud, silencing the downpour only slightly. The London Streets were soundless and still at this time of night, illuminated by the faint streetlamps. My head was pounding as I staggered my way back to bed. Reluctantly, I closed my eyes, preparing myself to be transported back into a land of dreams. I knew it would be the same one that had just startled me awake, it was always the same one. I groaned, wanting so desperately to return to three weeks ago, when I didn't used to dream at all. I smiled at the thought of a dreamless sleep before I let my exhaustion consume me once more.