The Pearl and the Sea

The embers of a vibrant city clung to ashen air. While some buildings attempted to stay upright, a semblance of structure remaining, others were crippled. Crumbling. Ending.

Rubble and smoke.

That's what had become of Nebuk.

A city formed in the depths of a beauteous forest.

It wasn't uncommon for cities to be destroyed in the wake of dragons. There weren't always many survivors. Nebuk had housed many people. Many children. Many soldiers. And those that weren't crushed by shattered buildings had their flesh melted in dragon flame.

But when the rubble and smoke cleared, so did the dragons. A battle meant for the skies left destruction below.

Nebuk.

The last city destroyed by dragons.

It was a young man that saw it with his own eyes from afar. Billowing terror that plucked at his gaze as he watched his city burn and fall to dragons.

By the time he had made it to the town from his outpost, it was too late.

And he didn't know if it were luck. Or a curse. To step on ground laid with ashen memory of the people that once lived there, somehow a survivor.

But what he saw, emerging from the piles of smoke and debris, was something that no one would ever believe.

A child.

A toddler. Who survived the masses of flames and falling buildings.

It wasn't the edged look in her eyes, or the way she walked like a single piece of the destruction hadn't touched her.

No.

She was covered in blue scales. From head to toe.

Mouth agape, and staring at the child's retreating form, the soldier could only mutter nonsense.

Her small footsteps were all that were left as evidence of her existence.

And a soldier left to be ridiculed by his story.

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Darkness cupped candlelight and danced across thought filled faces. Echoes of laughter and mirth circulated with cascading volume, and so did the volume of the quiet ones encroach - those who preferred the company of their inner demons to the company of others. They each sat tapered by the bar, sorrows swirling in their cups. The tavern encompassed all. The invited. The uninvited. From the outside you could hear the life that existed within. A beckoning.

Deadman's Tavern.

The most frequented tavern in the city of Vallah.

Sjorn stared over at the band. It was her favourite part of Deadman's Tavern. There was a mixutre of Cello players, Violin and Percussion. A pleasant experience. Something to look forward to with each visit. Music gave brief reprieve from thoughts too many.

Sjorn sat with the contemplators by the bar. Her drink swirled with her mind and she greedily gulped it down before ushering Oden for more.

"Another?"

She inched her glass toward him. Oden was a good man.

He poured whiskey into her glass.

Sjorn smirked, tipping her glass toward him, "You know that isn't enough, Oden."

"It's enough when I say it's enough. And you, young lady, always drink far too much when you frequent this tavern."

Sjorn pouted, her cheeks puffed, "I promise this will be my last one."

He knew it wouldn't be. But he poured anyway. A smile tugged his cheeks.

She sat back down and watched him move on to the next patron, then lifted her glass to her lips. As the liquid touched her tongue she sighed with relief. The bite of whiskey warmed her chest.

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The alleyways of Vallah were well known to a skilled Bounty Hunter like Sjorn. The enormity of the city meant that most criminals flocked or at least passed through there. She knew the streets well. The parts illuminated by light and the corners comforted by darkness. Thanks to a childhood that saw her frequenting the large city, Sjorn was Vallah's most well known Bounty Hunter. Most feared. Most sought after.

It was easy money to her.

Walking through the darkened passageways at night felt somewhat comforting to her. So Sjorn tended to get caught up in her own world. But she always had a keen sense for hunting. A keen sense for survival.

Her comfort was ripped away the moment she heard the cling of metal ringing behind her.

Amateur.

Sjorn quickly turned, released a knife from her back pocket, and threw it expertly toward her pursuer.

A satisfying yell of agony met her ears as the knife made impact. But it was short lived satisfaction. He wasn't her only enemy.

"A decoy."

Her mind reeled.

Her reflexes were quick when the next attacker lunged toward her from the darkness. His sword flung expertly at her and she almost let herself grin over her rushing adrenaline.

She released her own sword from her scabbard and jumped backward in an attempt to rationalise her movements. But he was fast. A crazed look in his eyes, he swung, unabashedly attempting to cut any piece of her flesh.

Blades collided and inched along one another. They each parried and lunged attempting to be the first to draw blood.

He was skilled.

He was fast.

But Sjorn was faster.

She had observed his movements. The weakness in his upper swings, the slight difference in speed as he brought his sword down. And so she side stepped with the swift feet, and jammed her sword deep into his chest.

He coughed his life in droplets of crimson over the pavement. Heaving as she withdrew her bloodied blade.

He collapsed.

Distracted by the dramatic sputtering of whatever life that remained within him, she hadn’t sensed the movement behind her.

Something tinged in the back of her mind to turn around.

She snapped her head back and met a knife inches from her face.

She gasped.

Something had stopped the knife from slicing her pretty smile.

She stared at her own hand holding the man's arm. Her confusion was quick and aggressive. The arm that she saw did not look like her own. It was rippling in jagged blue scales and she could feel the sudden strength awakened in her blood. Ready to devour. Ready to crush.

Crush.

The wrist beneath her grasp shattered loudly, cracking and crumbling. Though, this time, the agonising screams were not as comforting to Sjorn's ears. She couldn't stop herself from cringing as bone flattened like jelly and his wrist slapped forward, releasing its weapon.

When a voice left her mouth, octaves deeper than her own, she shuddered.

"Touch her again and I will consume every morsel of your soul."

The man fell to the ground with terror in his eyes. His screams died in his throat, trailing the retreating back of the victor.

Sjorn was always a little frightened and a little surprised when someone made Hessa angry. Sjorn had seen a lot. Had done a lot.

But Hessa had done more.

Hessa. The dragon that lived inside her. The dragon that protected her. The dragon that ripped flesh from bone if someone even grazed Sjorn's skin. And though Sjorn had removed many from the living, akin to the taking of lives, it paled in comparison to the eradication that Hessa was capable of.

Power was power.

And Hessa was power.

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Sjorn walked down an alley, just a few streets away from the one she had just massacred two people in, and sighed.

"What's wrong?" Hessa asked.

"People don't usually attack me in Vallah. I usually attack them."

"Which means they did not know who you were."

Sjorn scoffed, "They were sent by someone."

"We haven't been bountied in a long time."

While each erred on their worries a gate rattled heavily with the weight of someone, or something landing on top of it.

Sjorn crooked her neck toward the gate, her bloodied face visible under the dim lights, and stared at a man with hair whiter than any she had ever seen.

Hair that appeared resonant.

"Who are you?" Asked Sjorn.

But Hessa was already incensed within her. Hessa knew the answer.

"Njal. What are you doing here?"

Hessa sounded afraid.

But Hessa couldn't be afraid.

Hessa feared no one.

"My sweet Hessa," the man chuckled, "Just where have you been hiding for twenty years?"

"What are you doing here?" Repeated Hessa. Her scales now surging across Sjorn's skin.

"I am here to take you to the Trials. I won't stop hunting you and your human until you come with me."

"Run."

Hessa's voice was the only prevalent thought in Sjorn's mind at that moment and she suddenly felt very afraid of Njal.

It echoed again, "Run."

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"Explain." Said Sjorn. Staring into her mirror.

They had made it to one of Sjorn's hideouts in the city. It was out of sight, but in sight. Something you wouldn't necessarily think to examine. A base attached to a flower shop by the outskirts of the city.

Sjorn stared hard at her blue scaled companion, whose eyes of ember burned with unforgiving flame. Stubborn. Unwilling.

But Sjorn knew that Hessa couldn't say no to her. Couldn't deny her an answer. She had hidden something from her. And they didn't keep secrets from each other.

"Njal, the man who was after us, we were married a lifetime ago."

Sjorn frowned, her brow creasing and un-creasing in confusion, "You were married to a human?"

Hessa laughed.

"That was no normal human. He was a vessel like you. Someone else housing a dragon."

Sjorn wanted to sit down, but gripped the mirror for support, "I-I didn't know there were others like us."

"I did not know that dragons could use humans as vessels until I found you. My husband is cunning. If he couldn't find me as a dragon he must have known I would be somewhere else."

"He didn't assume you had died in your last battle?"

The look that Hessa gave Sjorn was almost commical. Rage and disbelief swelling in her eyes. Hessa wasn't an easy enemy to beat. Sjorn knew better. And so did Hessa's husband.

"So, why is he after us? What are the Trials?"

The mirth in Hessa's gaze disappeared and became stern.

"Njal and I had a daughter. The dragon prophesized to rule the realm. But she was taken by Tredhar, a dragon on the council. Tredhar couldn't stand the thought of a female dragon ruling and so a deal was struck. With the promise of the return of my daughter I was to defeat all continent ruling dragons. But I couldn't finish the task."

"Why?"

Sjorn's face slowly dropped, highlighted by the strands of light that seeped through the cracks of the hideout.

"Humanity should never have gotten caught in our battles. But the dimensional wall between our realm and yours is very thin. So when two dragons battle..."

"Everything is destroyed."

Hessa continued, "I destroyed so much for my daughter. So many human lives. But when I found you amongst the decay of Nebuk, screaming in a building I had just burned, I had to stop. It was enough. I had never been so close to my destruction before. It swelled in the depths of your ocean eyes and it was enough."

"If you hadn't saved me, if you had remained in your true form and defeated the dragon at Nebuk, you would have won your daughter back?"

A nod of defeat met her in the mirror.

A deafening silence travelled the walls.

Sjorn squeezed the mirror frame, feeling her bones shake, "We have to save her, Hessa."

"It is not that simple."

"Make it simple. We have to save her."

Hessa's teeth looked sharper than usual as her face came closer to Sjorn's in the mirror, "The Trials were dragon against dragon. Not vessel against dragon. And you know that I cannot leave your body. I may not be able to protect you."

"We protect each other. Use my body as your weapon. I know we can do this. We have to do this."

They stared for eternity. Stubbornness against stubbornness.

Almost a mother and a daughter.

The creak of a floorboard was not the last thing to echo in their tiny room.

Nor was it the endless depths of remorse that churned in the blue dragons eyes.

A reflection well known to Sjorn.

No.

The last thing to echo was a quiet breath that held words with hope and great brevity from Njal, standing in the hideouts entrance.

"Sjorn is right. It is time we went to the Trials and saved our daughter."