Of Crystal Flames & Dragon Fire

CHAPTER ONE

My heart pounds within me as I race through the dark cave. I’ve never experienced fear like this. I look behind me, fully expecting to see shadows crawling through the hole as the Guardians hunt me down like a wild animal.

But no one follows me - yet.

I approach the edge of the cave, but it’s not until I stop to get my bearings that I notice the heavy rain pouring from the sky. The winds blow the rain sideways in sheets across the angry sea. The sounds of thunder and crashing waves on the cliffs drown out the roar of blood in my ears.

I step out of the cave and suck in a sharp breath as the cold downpour immediately drenches me. I have never been in rain like this. As I hurry up the rocky path, my foot slips on a wet rock, and I fall to my hands and knees. Sediment and pebbles embed themselves in the palms of my hands and my kneecaps, but I am too terrified of being caught and dragged back to the Elders that I hardly notice.

When I reach the top of the plateau, I charge across it at full speed, my arms vigorously pumping back and forth. The heavy rain beats down on my face, and I can no longer tell the difference between the raindrops and my own tears. The stormy gales blow from behind me, carrying me along their currents, ushering me further and further away from my home. It’s as if the winds themselves know what happened and want to get me as far away as possible.

I stop at the edge of the plateau and look out across the valley. My breathing is ragged as my grief slowly continues to creep in. Standing there, overlooking the darkened landscape, I realize that, while I have trekked through much of the valley, I truly know nothing about this land. I have no food and no resources. There are no people to speak of and no homes.

For the first time in my life, I am completely and utterly alone.

Yet I have no choice but to continue forward. Any moment now, Guardians could spill over the top of the cliff and come for me. The thought terrifies me more than the unknown ahead.

I hear a noise over the roar of the downpour, similar to my cape when it flaps in the wind. Only this noise sounds louder. And bigger. Every muscle in my body stiffens. I apprehensively look behind me and stare at the other end of the plateau for several moments, waiting to see if dark shadows emerge from underneath it or if something else makes itself known.

I see no one and nothing, and I can’t wait around for something to happen. I take one shaky gulp of damp air and begin my descent into the valley.

And I run. I don’t know how long or how far, but I run. All I know is I can’t stop, not now.

Meanwhile, the storm continues to crash above me. Yellow veins of lightning streak and split across the darkened sky like bare tree branches, illuminating the landscape in an eerie glow. Moss covered rocks and crests create shadows along the ground between lightning flashes. Thunder bellows and echoes through the basin of the valley, its rolling sound vibrating in my chest.

Clearing the hill, I dart through a small wood at the base, slapping away low sapling branches with my hands and snapping fallen twigs underfoot. I splash through a creek in the middle of the landscape, not caring or noticing the moisture soaking through my boots and trousers. I cross over crags and cracks in the soft green grasslands that rise and fall, creating small plateaus of their own.

Burning pain shoots up my leg.

Sparks! Splinters!

The tendons in my ankle strain and cry out as the joint rolls inward and takes all of my weight. Knees buckle. Hands hit the rocky ground. My wrists forcefully jam at impact as I avoid face-planting into the mud.

I pause for a moment to clear my spinning head before pushing myself up. My body sways on my feet as exhaustion finally sets in. The rain continues to fall and the winds still blow with fury around me.

I feel the last drops of adrenaline seep away from my body, and my grief takes full control. I glance down at my shaking, stained hands in the flashing storm light. Bile rises in the back of my throat as nausea rolls through my stomach. Something wet and dark drips from my palms and fingers.

Blood!

No, no, no!

The blood of the Guardians.

The blood of my father.

Shame and remorse envelope me like a heavy shroud. It weighs on my soul, like a rope tied around my neck, choking me slowly, little by little. My chin quivers, and I start to hyperventilate as my mind hallucinates the blood on my muddy hands. Everything I’ve done in the past hour or two, everything that’s happened to me swirls through my memory in a blur.

It’s my fault. Father is dead…because of me.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” I stutter through tears. “I’m s-so s-sorry.”

Despair closes around my heart. My chest constricts until I can no longer will air into my lungs. I feel numb, yet I can feel the stinging warmth within me returning. It’s faint at first, slowly rising and swelling from deep inside me before it explodes.

The fire travels from the sphere of tension in my chest down through my arms and fingers, my legs and toes. The ferocity of it overwhelms me, but instead of fighting it, I embrace the burning fuse coursing through my veins. Maybe - just maybe - the painful furnace will kill me this time and rid me of my agony.

I lift my face to the sky and surrender to my grief. The rain on my face creates a drastic contrast to the hot tears streaming from my eyes. As my weeping grows louder and louder over the storm, a violent wind begins to circle me. A bright light flows around me in wispy tendrils.

Flames - white flames!

They slowly grow and tower over me until I am encased in a wind tunnel of white fire. Small specs of color - pastel pink, blue, and purple - flicker in and out of the individual flames, like light shining through a crystal. However, the fire does not burn me. In fact, it’s coming from me, streaming in hazy wisps from my hands and fingers!

I don’t understand what is happening! Where is this coming from?

I would be in awe and maybe even frightened, but my grief clouds out my curiosity. The more I wail and cry, the faster the wind swirls around me, the higher the flames soar above me. The rain on my skin and clothes evaporates from the heat.

The tension of grief around my heart reaches a climax. White feathery wisps cloud my vision once again. I can’t withstand it any longer. My hands curl into fists so tight my nails break the skin of my palms. I scream, crying out as loud and as fierce as my lungs will allow. The wind and flames whip about me like a cyclone.

When my lungs give out, the wind and fire around me explode outward like a sonic wave. The deafening sound, intermingled with my fading cries, echoes through the valley.

As the last smoky tendrils of fire disappear, I am left barely standing. I sway back and forth on weak, shaky legs, my eyes still lifted up at the sky. The rain continues to pour and once again soaks me to the skin. All of my strength drains from my muscles. All the moisture in my throat is gone, leaving it scorched and dry. My breath comes out guttural and raspy. The last of my stability crumples, and I collapse onto the damp earth.

The white covering my eyes begins to clear again, and my gaze wanders the black, stormy sky. Slowly, my vision becomes blurry and hazy. Voices and thoughts echo through my head in an incoherent jumble.

“It’s nothing like we’ve been told!”

Throat burns.

“Val, what have you done?”

Everything…hurts. Still burns.

“Millani…”

So tired. Can’t stay awake…any…any longer.

The sounds of the raging storm dim. My senses fade. I don’t feel the rain on my skin anymore. Don’t really feel the cold hard ground beneath me. My eyelids grow heavy and everything fades to darkness.

. . .

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.”

My grandfather’s husky voice hung low as he slowly drew out every word. His dusty blue eyes twinkled with mirth and mystery, and his mouth spread into a wry half-grin as he began his daring tale.

He reclined in an old wooden chair draped with a black fur skin. His arthritic hands rested on his stomach, one on top of the other. Wavy gray hair reached just below his broad hunched shoulders, and a matching, trimmed beard stretched across his jawline.

A warm fire crackled and popped within a carved-out fire pit. Small stones lined the edges of the pit, blackened from years of fire and ash. Orange and yellow flames climbed up a pyramid of wooden logs and disappeared into the surrounding darkness of the mountain cavern. A soft bear skin laid spread across the hard, stone floor in front of the pit.

With my legs folded underneath me, I sat on the fur rug, hanging on every word Grandfather uttered. Shadows from the nearby fire danced on his aged and weathered face as I waited in anticipation for him to continue the story. I had heard it numerous times, but my thirteen-year old heart was desperate to hear it again to see if I would pick up new details to feed my wild fantasies.

“The dragons once kept to themselves on the other side of the Frozen Barrens and on the far side of the sea,” Grandfather continued.

“What brought them here?” I questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Most dragons and men have lived in opposition to each other. Both desire wealth and dominance - it is the nature of them all,” Grandfather recounted.

“A thousand years ago the Dragon King invaded our lands, determined to wipe man from the world and to bring the dawn of a new era of dragon dominance. It was rumored that the king of our ancestors kept a storehouse of gold and jewels, mined from the mountains on the edge of the Frozen Barrens. The Dragon King desired these treasures for himself. The most coveted of these treasures was a black diamond he called Drâzhan, the Heart of Dragons. It was believed to possess magic that could hold and harness great power.”

“What kind of power?”

Grandfather shook his head. “The myths surrounding it are unclear. But all of them hint that it is a power greater than that of any dragon alive.”

I breathed out a loud sigh of awe.

“So what happened?” I prodded.

“When the invasions started, the king summoned all of his men and the surrounding kingdoms to fight off the dragons. Five days of hell-fire and smoke filled the skies, and it seemed that mankind’s legacy in this world would be extinguished forever.”

Grandfather paused for a dramatic flair, creating mounting suspense. “Yet hope shone through the blood red inferno.”

“And?”

“On the fifth day, a brilliant white light burst through the smoke and ash. Just as our ancestors were about to face utter demise, a figure emerged, glowing white amidst the amber and crimson hues. Bursts of energy flowed from the figure, setting the dragons ablaze with what some have described as flames.

“The dragon’s roars and shrieks could be heard throughout the Valley as they met their deaths. Some of them escaped, barely alive and tattered, to the Frozen Barrens.”

“What defeated the dragons? A human? A wizard? Another creature?” I asked, the words tumbling excitedly out of my mouth.

“No one knows for sure,” Grandfather replied, mystery and intrigue lining his tone. “When the smoke and ashes settled, the mysterious hero with the white light had vanished. No one ever saw them again. But there were rumors…”

“Rumors of what?”

“One man and his young daughter claimed to have been hiding under debris. The man said he saw someone dressed in all black and a mask with a white energy flowing from their hands. He said the energy took on the appearance of fire but only white. His daughter said that when the dragons retreated, the figure ran to check on them. The little girl claimed it was a woman with hair as red as the dragons’ flames.

“The ash and smoke finally settled, and people were able to return to rebuild their homes and lives. The five days of war and dragon fire become known as the Pendragon War,” Grandfather concluded.

“What happened to the king’s treasures? Did the dragons take it? Did they find Drâzhan?” I inquired.

“The king’s treasure store was damaged during the war. The tunnel collapsed, sealing the entrance with massive boulders of mountain pieces. To this day, we assume Drâzhan is lost in the treasure store or it never existed at all.”

Disappointment filled my heart. My brows knitted together in frustration, and I huffed out an irked sigh. My hands curled into loose fists on top of my knees. I glanced back up at my grandfather, who had become silent as he watched me. His dim eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement at my frustration.

“And what of the Dragon King?” I asked. “Did the white warrior kill him too?”

“The dragons fell silent after the war,” Grandfather answered. “For five hundred years, not one dragon was seen. Many assumed the last of them that escaped after the war died in the Barrens from their wounds, including the Dragon King.”

“But they were right, weren’t they?”

Grandfather shakes his head again, this time very solemnly, his expression grim.

“We never saw it coming. The Elders had warned that the dragons would return, but during times of peace men tend to become blinded to their own good fortune. We ignored the Elders’ wisdom. We ignored the warning signs in the stars. We ignored the threats that war was upon us - to our own demise. And then it happened.”

I leaned over, straining, eager to hear his words. “What happened, Grandfather?”

“Rising black smoke in the north breathed the first signal of war,” he continued. “The woody, sickly stench of burning wood, molten rock and metal, and melted flesh traveled forward on the winds of the dragons’ wings.

“Beacons across the land were lit, reaching all the way to King Fenry in the Royal City and the Hall of Elders. It was just enough warning before the ambush to gather the people of the Royal City into the underground passageways and prepare the Guardians, the warriors of the kingdom. Then the dragons arrived in all their rage and fury.

“Two thousand warriors drew their weapons that day for a war they would not win. They never stood a chance. The dragons formed a line in the sky and spewed fire on the villages and land surrounding the Royal City. They did not stop their rampage until the entire kingdom glowed and crackled from their crimson flames. The Dragon King took on the king’s castle himself, his fire one of black flames instead of red, the likes no one had seen in half a millennium.”

“He breathed black fire?” I asked in astonishment.

“Yes, my child. They called it the Shadow Flame,” Grandfather answered me.

I furrowed my brows. I did not recall having heard that detail before. Tucking it away to ponder later, I encouraged my grandfather to go on.

“What happened after that?”

“The fires burned for days, engulfing the kingdom in thick dark smoke. The Royal City laid in ruins, nothing more than a heap of ash to be scattered by the winds and forgotten. The valley smoldered until only charcoal and ash remained. Those who survived and made it to the tunnels called this The Great Desolation.”

I took a deep breath to calm the adrenaline that had built up during the story.

“Will we ever go back to the surface?” I wondered aloud. “Do you think we’ll ever be allowed to leave The Dwelling, Grandfather?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps one day the Elders will see it as safe enough for us to leave.”

I opened my mouth to ask a question but stopped to ponder the wisdom of my inquiry. I gnawed on my lower lip as I gathered the courage to ask my most daring question - one that had been burning inside my juvenile heart for over a year.

I looked up into my grandfather’s eyes, trying to determine if it was safe. Depending on his answer, he could admit to treason, a charge punishable by death, even for royalty. His eyes gazed back into mine. I sensed nothing but warmth and love in his face. His mouth curved into a small smile, and he nodded slightly, encouraging me to speak. I could tell that he knew what I was about to ask him. I swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Have - have you ever been to the surface, Grandfather?”

His smile spread wider and the wrinkles around his eyes crinkled even more.

“I- ” he began.

“That’s enough, Father!”

I jerked my head around to see my father standing behind me in the archway of the room. His mouth was set in a frown, and his eyes narrowed in anger. He stepped across the threshold toward the fire pit.

“Valdan,” Grandfather said, his tone clipped and authoritative, “It’s time she knew. She’s of age to know -”

“I will be the one to decide when my daughter is of age to hear something or not!” Father snapped. “And feeding her imagination and fantasies with your exaggerated tales does her no good. She has better things to focus her mind on.”

“Don’t you be cross with me, boy,” my grandfather warned. “I am still king, and if I decide my granddaughter needs to hear something, she shall hear it.”

Father’s steel colored eyes flashed with rage. His face turned a pale shade of crimson that matched his red hair as he fought to keep his temper under control. His fists clenched and unclenched. He and Grandfather remained silent as they stared each other down.

I sat frozen on the bear skin rug, my gaze darting back and forth between the two men I loved more than anything in the world. Most days they got along, but on days they disagreed - such as today - they were at each other’s throats - especially when it came to me.

Each of them had a mind of what they deemed best for me. Father believed in protecting me and giving me small doses of exposure would be best. Grandfather, on the other hand, was blunt and thought it best that I know things from the start. This one difference was usually the culprit of the vast majority of their disagreements.

“It must be important if it causes such a disagreement between you,” I interjected meekly. “But if I am to learn to be a queen one day, should I not know something of such relevance?”

My father stared at me with his mouth open in disbelief, more from shock of my defiance toward him rather than the maturity of the statement itself. My grandfather looked at me in both amusement and pride. I glanced back at Father to see the outrage in his eyes and immediately began to study the lines on my palms. Heat rose to my cheeks and the tips of my ears began to burn as my heart rate increased. My hands and armpits moistened and became clammy as I waited for what would happen next.

The silence carried on for what felt like hours, though it was no more than a minute. When I mustered up the courage to raise my head and meet my father’s eyes, I could see the frustrated abdication on his face. He and Grandfather once again exchanged glances before my father lowered his eyes in submission and nodded his head. Grandfather returned his gesture with one of quiet thanks before he turned back to me.

“Yes, my child,” he resumed. “I have been to the surface - many times. And it is nothing like we’ve been told…”

. . .

My eyes flutter open and immediately squeeze shut again. The light of the sun hurts and turns the inside of my eyelids a salmon pink. My swollen tongue sticks to the roof of my dry, parched mouth. I let my tolerance to the light adjust before trying to look around again. My entire body feels dead-weighted. Willing movement into one arm, I raise my hand above my face to shield my eyes as I open them a second time.

Sparse fluffy white clouds float against an azure sky above me. A cool breeze blows across me, rustling the surrounding blades of grass and cooling my warm skin. The scent of rain still hangs in the air, and the musty scent of damp earth fills my nostrils. I take a deep breath and will strength back into my body.

As I slowly push myself up with my arms to a seated position, I wince and suck in a sharp pained breath. My upper left arm stings and burns. I reach over with my right hand and feel the coarse edges of a long crusty scab and the hot flesh around it. When I pull my hand back, blood covers my fingertips where the wound has reopened.

My mind swirls trying to recall how this injury appeared. Everything comes rushing back like a flood in an instant. I remember it all now.

My breath hitches in the back of my throat, and my hands clamp on my mouth to suppress a sob. I can’t start this again. I have to keep moving. I could be caught at any moment. I have to get as far away as possible.

They could be coming for you at any moment!

Adrenaline and fear punch me in the gut. I immediately feel the panic rising and begin frantically searching around me. My head turns back and forth in all directions, straining to see any figures on the horizon, anyone who might poise as a threat. I do this for a few moments, but see no one.

Pull yourself together! I tell myself. There’s no one here. You’re alone, remember?

Taking a forced deep breath to calm down, I glance around me again and take in the landscape. I currently sit in a craggy fissure on the ground. The rocks around me are dusty and covered in charcoal. Any grass or moss that once covered them has been burned to a crisp, and only shriveled, blackened straws remain.

Outside of the burn ring, moss covered rocks form a barrier to my right, limiting my view. Behind me lies the remnants of the valley with the sea beyond the trees and the rising hills. Before me and to the left, the land slopes down, sparsely dotted with pine trees and burly shrubs that slowly turn into a dense forest. The green forested highland, split in two by a bubbling rocky creek, stretches out for several miles and disappears into the depths of a massive gorge. Mountainous cliffs rise on either side of it. A thick gray mist hides the cliff tops and floats down into the gap, obscuring the interior of the gorge from view.

Ignoring the nagging burn of my left arm, I slowly push myself up to stand on my feet. Dizziness floods my head. My temples throb as pressure builds and snakes around to the base of my skull. Fatigue trickles through my body, causing my muscles and limbs to feel weak and heavy. My faith in my legs wavers in sync with my wobbly balance.

I stand still, breathing in and out, until the vertigo levels out. I carefully, gingerly take a step and am surprised at the firm landing. Slowly I make my way out of the cleft, one step at a time.

The creek gurgles and flows over rocks in the distance. I suddenly realize how thirsty I am, having no idea when I last had anything to drink. I trudge downward toward the creek bed. When I reach the water, I drop to my hands and knees. Mud and moss soak into my dark charcoal trousers and the edges of my cloak, and icy mountain water rushes over my hands. Yet I hardly notice as I bend over and use my hand to bring the water to my mouth. The fresh mineral taste contains hints of earth and a subtle sweetness. I don’t think I’ve ever drank anything this wonderful! I reach my hand back into the water and drink more.

A bit of life and energy return to me as the water settles in my stomach. The dryness in my mouth and the scorched sensation in my throat dissipate. My head begins to clear, and the pounding in my temples recedes.

As I continue to kneel and bend over the edge of the creek, a dark shadow falls over the stream and the surrounding rocks and grass. I hear a sound behind me - the same one I heard at the edge of the plateau last night - like a monstrous cape flapping slowly and deliberately in the wind.

A violent wind swooshes around me, kicking up stray leaves and moss around me. My cloak whips about me and splashes in the water. A loud thud resounds behind me, making the ground vibrate so violently that I lurch forward on my knees. I catch myself with my hands to avoid tumbling head first into the water. The ground beneath me quakes, and the water in the creek ripples. I hear a deep huff, and a hot, smoky wave of air rushes over me.

My whole body stiffens. My hands and arms tremble instantaneously from fear rather than the frigid water running over them. My breath once again becomes ragged and shallow as nausea rolls through my empty stomach. Slowly I turn my head to look over my shoulder, and my eyes grow wide in terror.

It can’t be true! This can’t be real!

A dragon as black as midnight stands behind me. It rises well over twenty feet high and stretches no less than sixty feet long. The wings, though folded and bent at the dragon’s side, must stretch as long as its body. Sharp edges stick out from the joints in each wing.

Before my mind can fully process or absorb any more details, the adrenaline in my body pushes me forward, and I madly scramble across the creek bed on all fours. My foot slips on the slimy embankment on the opposite side, and I slam into the hard, rocky ground.

I quickly flip myself over and scoot back on my hands, not caring or noticing the mud and debris staining my clothes. I bump into a boulder and realize that I’ve trapped myself in another crag hallowed out from years of harsh weather and erosion. My chest rapidly rises and falls in panic. I’m stuck!

The dragon lifts a leathery, scale-covered leg the size of a tree trunk and steps toward me. When its claw lands, tremors in the ground beneath me make my teeth crash and chatter together. Massive iron gray talons arch out of the dragon’s foot and curve down like harvesting scythes. Its next step lands in the creek, sending water sprays in all directions.

Slowly, the dragon lowers its massive head to level its sight with me. Large straight horns, shaped like spikes, fan out from the sides of its jaw and angle backward. Its ears are a similar but slightly larger shape, fading from dark ebony at the base to a dull smoky gray at the tips. Two lines of leathery spikes line either side of its spine all the way to the end of its tail.

I sit, paralyzed with fear, held captive by the dragon’s stare. Lilac and violet flecked eyes bore into my own. Small specks of gold intermingle with the purple hues, shimmering in the sunlight like tiny flames. The pupils in both eyes are dark like black pearls.

A steamy blast of metallic air rushes over me as the dragon snorts. Loose strands of my hair wave around my face, and my cheeks flush from the heat wave. The wet patches on my clothes dry instantly. My chin continues to quiver in terror and tears begin to prick the backs of my eyes. I’m staring at death in its most monstrous form, and I have no hope of escape.

Maybe the Elders were right after all…

The dragon moves its snout closer to me. I lean back as far as I can against the boulder behind me, hoping that it will somehow give way and let me melt into its surface. Hoping anything will get me away from the beast before me. The jaws of the dragon open slightly, revealing a dark void lined with sharp, deadly teeth, some as long as my forearm.

I instinctively bring a protective, shuddering hand in front of me, as the dragon’s nose hovers mere inches from me. I turn my head away and squeeze my eyes shut. My entire frame trembles uncontrollably like a leaf in a strong wind. I brace myself for a fiery, scorching end.

Something bumpy and leathery touches the palm of my hand and stops. My hyperventilating ceases, and I hesitantly open one eye. The sight before me is unlike anything I could imagine or dream possible.

The dragon quietly, gently nuzzles the tip of its black snout in my hand, its purple eyes closed in relaxation. It sniffs my hand and holds its breath momentarily. When it exhales, the sound resembles a sigh of contentment. As its eyes reopen, the dragon shifts its weight and backs away from me.

For a fleeting moment, shock and bewilderment keep me frozen in place. Slowly, I move my limbs and begin rising to my feet. I place my hands on the boulder behind me and walk them up as I steady myself. I monitor the winged beast in front of me, watching for any signs of immediate aggression or danger.

The dragon observes me as well, its gaze thoughtful, as though it finds me fascinating and wonderful. The enormous head tilts to one side. Its lilac eyes fill with curiosity and innocent excitement. There are no traces of malice or a hunger to kill.

The dragon crouches and lowers itself so close to the ground that its underbelly rests in the creek. Its body creates a temporary dam and causes the water to shift its path outward and onto the embankment.

I stiffen, unsure of what is taking place in front of me. The dragon then bows its head down to me and lowers its eyes. I shake my head in disbelief.

“What are you…?” My voice, barely an audible whisper, trails off.

The dragon holds its bowed pose for several more heartbeats before rising up again. I gulp and take a steadying breath as it looks down at me once more. As we maintain awkward eye contact, I return the humble gesture. Bending down slightly at my waist, I incline my head. The dragon’s expression appears to take the form of a small smile, and its eyes dance with amusement.

It takes a few earth-tremoring steps away from me, and I have to adjust my balance to avoid toppling over. Its gigantic wings begin to unfold and spread, the color matching the rest of its frame. The wings become opaquely translucent under the sun, revealing the bone and lean muscle structure within. Dark scales cover its entire body, gleaming and shining in the sunlight in shades of ebony, onyx, and black jade.

The dragon puffs out its chest and straightens its long snake-like neck upward. Wiggling its massive body from side to side like a cat preparing to pounce, it launches itself into the air with a seemingly effortless leap. The ground rumbles, and the creek waters shudder. A great whoosh fills my ears. Loose leaves and dirt are once again hurled into the air, and strands of my hair whip back and forth across my face in the wind created from the dragon’s wings.

I crouch down on the ground to avoid the end of the dragon’s tail as it sweeps past me, missing me by a few feet. The resonance from the tail reminds me of the sound of swords slashing past my ears from my practice sequences. A memory of my fight in the Dwelling flashes through my mind, but I immediately shake it off.

My gaze follows the dragon’s flight as it soars above and behind me. It circles back around. As it passes me on the right, our eyes lock for a moment before it looks onward, toward the mountain pass down the hill. I continue to observe the dragon as it surprisingly becomes smaller on the horizon. It approaches the cavernous gorge between the mountains and disappears into the mist and heavy fog.