The Dragon Beside Me

The villagers whispered behind their calloused hands, casting fearful glances towards the smoldering remnants of the forest at the mountain's base. It had been like that for as long as I could remember, a constant reminder of the fiery beast that supposedly resided within.

My grandmother, however, scoffed at their fear. "Nothing but overgrown lizards," she'd grumble, her weathered face creased in amusement. "They wouldn't hurt a fly if it didn't fly too close to their fire."

Even though she talked with rough tenderness, her words could never really remove the knot of anxiety that coiled itself around my chest every time the wind delivered the sharp smell of mountain smoke.

One night without stars, the mountain's normal low rumbling intensified into a terrible roar that rocked our house from the ground up. The town fell into panic, and the elders, their faces carved with desperation, announced that the time had come for the yearly sacrifice.

A young girl was to be sent up the mountain as an offering to placate the dragon; she was to be chosen by lottery. Anya, my closest friend, suffered the horrible destiny this year, and her eyes became wide with fear.

I couldn't bear the thought of losing her. In a moment of desperate defiance, I grabbed a basket of warm bread and a flask of water, ignoring my grandmother's frantic pleas, and raced towards the smoldering mountain path.

The air grew thick and hot as I ascended, the ground crackling underfoot. Fear threatened to paralyze me, but the image of Anya's tear-streaked face spurred me onward.

Finally, I reached a clearing. The sight that greeted me wasn't a monstrous beast, but a magnificent creature, its emerald scales shimmering faintly in the moonlight. It was injured, a massive gash marring its side, and its mournful cries echoed through the valley.

Understanding dawned. The dragon wasn't a monster, but a creature in pain. I cautiously approached, leaving the bread and water at a safe distance. To my surprise, the dragon lowered its head, sniffing the offerings tentatively before taking a bite of bread.

Over the next few days, I continued to visit the dragon, bringing it food and water. Slowly, trust grew between us. I learned its name was Ignis, and the villagers, fearing its fire, had accidentally caused its injury by setting the forest ablaze.

When Ignis was finally healed, it let out a powerful, earth-shaking roar. But this time, it wasn't a roar of rage, but a song of gratitude. The villagers, initially terrified at the sound, emerged from their homes to find Ignis soaring high above, a breathtaking sight against the dawn sky.

Instead of fear, a new emotion filled the air: wonder. Ignis circled once before flying back towards the mountains, leaving behind a trail of shimmering dust that settled like a promise. It was a promise of a new beginning, where the villagers and the dragon, once divided by fear, could now coexist in peace.

From that day on, the whispers surrounding the mountains changed. They spoke not of a monstrous beast, but of a magnificent creature, a silent guardian who watched over the village from afar. And beside me, I always knew, there would be a friend, a dragon named Ignis, forever bound by an unlikely bond forged in the heart of a smoldering mountain.