I wandered too far already, and why did I even chase after that butterfly, I thought. But who cares where I am and who I am, because I have no one who would worry about me. My grandfather died a week ago, and now I am all alone. So, where am I? I looked around the area. I was in the middle of the forest, where beautiful beetles and glowing insects flew, and there were many beautiful flowers around the trees. I love flowers. Forgetting about hunger and my own safety, I continued to wander through the forest, but no longer after the butterfly, but after the flowers. One after another, the flowers became even more beautiful and smelled very pleasant. Then I saw a large flower or bud in the middle of the forest. It smelled very nice. Feeling a little apprehensive, I began to approach. My small steps were barely audible on the soft grass. I became very curious and was already very close to the large bud that was hiding something inside. I poked it with my finger, and the bud began to make rustling and some other sounds. I immediately ran aside, as if I would be punished for doing something bad, probably a habit from my parents; they would hit my hands when I tried to touch things. They are not here now; they went far away. I sighed with relief because they are no longer around, and a small smile appeared on my small face. The rustling continued, and I snapped back to my senses. The bud slowly opened, and inside lay a little girl about my age. She was very beautiful; I could not describe her beauty in words. She did not look like the girls I played with on the street. I slowly approached, and now I was right next to her. She lay quietly in the large open flower. I was scared. Something small was sticking out from behind her back. Were those wings? She was an angel, I thought. Some boys say there are such creatures who watch over us, angels. They can fly and are invisible to us. But I did not believe them. I thought they were making fun of me because I was poor. Whenever we play hide and seek, they always make me seek. Maybe I want to hide too? Maybe I want someone to look for me? I felt like crying. I looked at the bud, and the girl was gone. I got a little scared. I began to panic, as if I had done something wrong. Then suddenly someone hugged me from behind, and I felt a gentle pleasant fragrance.

  I felt warm arms wrap around me from behind, soft and gentle, like when you bury yourself under a blanket to feel safe. I froze, not even breathing. Nobody ever hugged me like that. I wanted to look, but I was afraid if I moved, she might disappear, like a dream.

  Slowly, her arms let go, and I turned. And there she was, standing right in front of me, just a few steps away. Her eyes were big, almost shining, like she knew all kinds of things I didn’t. Behind her, little wings peeked out, folded like a butterfly’s after it lands.

  “Why did you come here?” she asked in a voice as soft as a whisper.

  I didn’t really know how to answer. I shuffled my feet, looking down at the soft green grass. “I… I was following a butterfly,” I said, feeling a little silly. I peeked up at her face. She didn’t laugh, though. She just tilted her head, watching me like I was some kind of puzzle.

  “Sometimes butterflies lead you to strange places,” she said, almost to herself, like she knew all about them.

  I wasn’t sure what she meant, but it made me feel better. I felt my chest loosen, like maybe she wasn’t someone who’d laugh at me for following butterflies or getting lost in the forest. I thought she was probably a nice person.

  "Are you…" I paused, swallowing the question. But then, I couldn’t help myself. "Are you an angel?"

  She looked down at her wings, which glistened in the sunlight. Her face softened, and she smiled a little, like she had a funny secret. “Not an angel,” she said. “But maybe I’m close.”

  I felt my cheeks get warm. I had never seen someone like her before. She was pretty, with that small, gentle smile, and those wings that seemed like they could lift her up into the sky at any moment. I took a tiny step closer, curious. “What’s your name?”

  She blinked, then shrugged. “I don’t really have one,” she said, like it wasn’t a big deal. “But you can call me something, if you want.”

  I thought about this. It felt strange, not having a name, but somehow, it seemed right for her. “Maybe… maybe I’ll just call you friend?” I whispered, feeling a bit shy.

  Her face lit up like a firefly, her eyes sparkling. “Yes. I like that.”

  She held out her hand, and I reached out without even thinking. Her fingers felt cool, but nice, like the feeling of water on your hands on a hot day. My heart felt warmer than it had in a long time. I wasn’t used to holding anyone’s hand, but with her, it felt easy.

  We started walking, our steps soft on the grass. She led me deeper into the forest, showing me glowing flowers I’d never seen before, strange trees that twisted in ways I couldn’t even imagine, and little creatures that scurried at the sight of us. Everything felt different with her beside me, like the whole forest was alive and happy she was there.

  “Do you live here?” I asked, looking up at her. She seemed so at home, like the trees and flowers knew her.

  “Kind of,” she said. “I don’t always stay in one place. Sometimes, I have to go very far.”

  I felt a strange twist in my stomach at the thought of her leaving, though I didn’t know why. “Will you leave soon?”

  She looked down, her eyes soft. “Not yet,” she promised. “Not while you’re here.”

  That made me feel safe, like when you find a little hideout only you know about. And in that moment, I knew I wanted to stay in the forest forever. We didn’t need to talk much; we just kept walking, listening to the birds, touching flowers, following paths no one else had probably walked before.

  But soon the sky began to darken, turning soft shades of purple and blue, and my stomach growled. I tried to ignore it, but it reminded me I hadn’t eaten since morning. I didn’t want to go back, because I had no one waiting for me there.

  She must’ve noticed, because she let go of my hand. “It’s time for you to go,” she said gently.

  I didn’t want to, but I nodded, feeling a tightness in my throat. “Will I see you again?”

  She nodded, smiling. “If you come back, I’ll be here.”

  I took a step back, not sure what else to say. Then I turned and started to walk away, glancing back every few steps. She stood there, watching, her smile as gentle as the breeze. Her wings looked so light, like any second she might float up and disappear into the sky.

  When I reached the edge of the forest, I turned one last time. She was still there, her wings glowing faintly in the fading light, her face calm and kind. And I knew, somehow, I’d be back—no matter how far I had to walk, no matter how dark the woods got.

  I’d come back, because now I had someone waiting for me, a friend who felt like she belonged to a world I barely understood. And she was waiting… just for me.

  Day by day, I would return to her, to that secret spot in the forest that felt like it belonged just to us. We grew close, so close that words weren’t always necessary. She had become my truest friend, and with each day spent by her side, the world seemed brighter, safer somehow.

  But one day, something was different. When I arrived, she wasn’t her usual self. Her eyes, which usually sparkled with light, seemed dim, shadowed by something I couldn’t understand. I felt a strange unease stir inside me.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked carefully, hoping she would tell me.

  She hesitated, looking down as if searching for words. Finally, she murmured that there was something she wanted to show me, though I could see she was nervous, almost embarrassed.

  Without thinking, I took her hand, looking up at her with a determined expression. “You’re my best friend. I’d never turn away from you. You can show me anything.”

  She took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing a little, and nodded. “We’ll need a bigger space for this.”

  We walked in silence until we reached a clearing, a stretch of soft grass beneath the open sky. She paused there, looking around as if she were making sure no one else was near, and then turned to me, her face a mixture of determination and fear.

  “Promise… promise you won’t be scared,” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly.

  I swallowed, feeling an odd tightness in my chest. “I promise.”

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then began to change.

  At first, it was subtle. A faint shimmer seemed to flicker around her, as though she were dissolving into light. But then her small, familiar figure began to grow, her skin darkening and hardening into scales that gleamed like polished gemstones, deep crimson with veins of gold. Her arms and legs stretched longer, broader, becoming massive limbs with claws that dug into the earth. Her fingers curled, growing into talons sharper than any knife I’d ever seen.

  A cold wave of fear rushed through me as I took a step back, my heart hammering in my chest. I wanted to speak, to call out her name, but my voice felt trapped. Her face stretched and twisted, her delicate features elongating into a powerful, angular snout. Her gentle, human eyes faded away, replaced by enormous golden eyes with narrow slits, burning with an ancient fire.

  She was… terrifying. Immense. Her body expanded, larger and larger, until she filled nearly the entire clearing. Each scale glistened under the sunlight, catching the light and scattering it across the trees in fractured beams. She unfolded two massive wings, leathery and powerful, with a span so wide they darkened the ground beneath her. When she breathed, I could feel the heat in her breath, an intense warmth that made the air shimmer, and the grass around her trembled as if even the earth was in awe of her.

  In that moment, I felt so small. So fragile. This wasn’t the friend I knew, the one who laughed beside me, who shared secrets and dreams. This was a creature out of legends, a towering beast with razor-sharp teeth, her maw wide enough to swallow me whole. My legs trembled, and I took another step back, my eyes wide with terror. I couldn’t even blink, couldn’t look away, as if caught in a spell of fear and wonder.

  A flicker of guilt twisted in my chest. She had trusted me, had believed I would understand, but now, face-to-face with this impossible being, all I felt was fear. My hands shook, my breath came in shallow gasps, and it took all my strength not to turn and run.

  She must have noticed. Her enormous golden eyes softened, just a fraction, as she looked down at me. Her powerful jaw closed, and she let out a soft rumble, a sound that, despite everything, held the familiar warmth of her voice. The same voice that once whispered to me, laughed with me, shared her secrets.

  Slowly, I felt my breathing calm, my fear loosening its grip. She was still my friend—my best friend. Just… different. She was more than I’d ever imagined, more powerful, more magical. And though I still felt a small, lingering fear, I knew she was still her. She hadn’t changed who she was, only what she looked like.

  With shaky legs, I took a small step forward, then another, until I stood in front of her, gazing up at her in awe.

  “...Friend?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Is it still you?”

  The enormous dragon slowly nodded, her gaze gentle, and at that moment, I knew I could accept her, just as she was.

  He swallowed, trying to find his voice. “You’re… incredible,” he whispered, in awe. “I didn’t know you were this big.”

  She laughed, a sound like a rolling storm, and for a moment, he forgot his fear entirely.

  “Climb on,” she said, her voice softer now, coaxing him forward. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  He hesitated, looking up at her massive, scaly side, but then he reached out, placing a shaky hand against her scales. She was warm, her skin rough but comforting, and he clambered up, his heart pounding with excitement. As he settled on her back, she spread her wings wide, and with a single, powerful beat, they lifted off the ground.

  The world spun beneath them, a blur of green and blue, and he felt the wind rush against his face, fierce and free. He clung to her, laughing as they soared higher, his fear melting away into pure joy. She flew fast, dipping and turning, showing him the world from above. They passed over rivers that glistened like silver, hills that rolled out like waves, and forests that stretched endlessly. Everything felt smaller from up here, and for the first time, he felt like he could see beyond the life he knew.

  Then, as the sun began to set, she took him to a small island, a patch of green surrounded by clear blue water. She landed softly, letting him slide down, and as he looked around, he noticed the strange, ancient beauty of the place. It was silent here, untouched, as if the world itself had forgotten it.

  She stretched out, transforming back into her small, familiar self, and they sat side by side on the grass. She seemed quieter than usual, her eyes lost in the distance.

  “Why did you bring me here?” he asked.

  She looked at him, her gaze tender. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” she said softly. “I… I’m not like you. I need to be free, to fly, to see things no one else sees. The fire in my heart—it needs to be cooled down by the wind, the mountains, and the stars. I… I can’t stay in one place forever.”

  He felt a pang in his chest, a fear he hadn’t expected. “Are you… are you going to leave?”

  She nodded, looking away. “Not forever. But someday… yes. I’ll have to. It’s part of what I am. A dragon can’t stay in one place too long, or the fire in her will burn out.”

  He looked down, sadness filling him. “But… you’re my only friend. You’re the only one who cares.”

  Her hand found his, holding it gently. “And that’s why I’ll come back,” she promised. “Whenever I can, I’ll come back to you. Because you’re my friend too. And I know you don’t have anyone else.”

  They sat in silence, her words lingering in the air. She told him about the world, about how dragons needed to roam, to stretch their wings, to feel the world move beneath them. But she promised him, over and over, that she would always return.

  Over the years, they grew closer, each visit filled with shared laughter and stories. She helped him survive, bringing him things he needed, keeping him from falling too far into hunger or despair. But one day, just as she had warned, she left. The years went by, and he found himself alone once again.

  By the time he was fifteen, life had worn him down. He’d learned how the world worked, how to make his way through it, even if it was hard and lonely. He worked odd jobs, barely getting by, scraping together what little he could. Every day, he fought to survive, to hold onto the hope that maybe, one day, she would return.

  Sometimes, he wondered if she had been real at all. The memory of her felt like a dream, a whisper of something magical that belonged to another life. But every time he looked up at the sky, he remembered their flights, the world stretched wide before them, and he knew he would wait—no matter how long it took.

  Today was going to be a great day. The king of our city was renovating his castle, and they were looking for young men to help with the work. I was lucky enough to know a few people in charge of recruiting, and they put me on the list. They say the pay is good. I could already imagine how I’d spend my hard-earned money. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

  As I stood in line with countless others, we all made our way into the castle. They assigned me to the upper floor, where, rumor had it, the king’s daughter resided—a beauty, or so they say. Half the day had passed by then, and I’d worked hard, the physical strain wearing on me. Physical labor is no joke. I was finally taking a break, enjoying my lunch, when, to my surprise, the king himself approached my section. I quickly stood up, still chewing as I bowed to him, feeling slightly awkward.

  The king waved and asked me to follow him. He wanted to give instructions on where to place some of the furniture. He must’ve mistaken me for a supervisor, but I was just an ordinary worker. Even so, I found him to be a decent man. I listened as he gave directions when suddenly, the loud clang of a bell echoed throughout the castle.

  “DRAGON! A DRAGON APPROACHES!” someone screamed, the alarm bells ringing in frantic unison. Seconds later, we heard the deep, rumbling breaths of the creature, and then its roar—it was above us, circling, close. Panic gripped everyone, yet a strange calm settled over me. I’m the only one who’s ever seen a dragon up close, I thought. Memories of my childhood friend flooded back, of her whispering to me about dragons’ weaknesses, the hidden blind spot, the vulnerable place on their neck.

  In that moment, I realized: I’m the only one who can stop it.

  I turned to the king, shouting, “Give me the sword by your throne! I’ll protect you, my king!”

  He hesitated for a brief moment, then tossed the sword to me. I caught it mid-air, feeling the weight of the weapon in my hand as a surge of determination rushed through me. I quickly formulated a plan. If I could get to the roof, I might have a chance to take down the dragon using that blind spot I knew of. But before I could even make a move, a massive clawed snout burst through the wall, sending chunks of stone tumbling. Its enormous, bloodthirsty jaws snapped inches away from me, and I could feel the heat of its breath.

  Behind me, the king cowered by his throne, watching the scene unfold in horror.

  I clenched the sword, yelling as I planted my feet firmly, raising the blade. My heart hammered in my chest, and every part of me screamed with fear, but I wouldn’t let it win. This was it—either I would die protecting our king, or I’d bring down the dragon.

  I took a deep breath, steeling myself. The dragon’s size was staggering, far beyond what I’d expected. This wasn’t the young dragon I’d known—it was much larger, with scales of the same crimson hue but twice the ferocity. My mind whirled, and I felt a rush of memories of that childhood friend of mine, her laughter, her dragon-like spirit.

  This isn’t her, I told myself. This is a monster.

  I couldn't move, not even a flinch. Something inside of me, didn't allow me to raise the sword, fear got into me, I thought. I braced myself, closing my eyes for a split second as I accepted what I thought would be my fate. Silence fell, a tense, agonizing pause. I waited for the deadly strike… but nothing happened. Slowly, I opened my eyes to find the dragon staring at me, as if studying me, its massive eye watching me with an eerie, almost curious gleam. Then, in one graceful, unexpected motion, it blinked once, an enormous, solemn blink, and with a powerful beat of its wings, lifted off, disappearing into the skies above.

  And just like that, it was over. I’d saved the king and the entire kingdom.

  After the dragon departed, silence filled the great hall, broken only by the crackling remains of the shattered wall. The young man stood there, his chest rising and falling as he clutched the king’s sword, still warm in his hand. His heart pounded not only with relief but with a sense of something new—a spark of strength, perhaps, or destiny. He had done it. The bloodthirsty dragon had fled, and he alone had stood between the beast and his king.

  The king, who had watched the battle from behind his throne, now rose, his eyes wide and bright with awe. Slowly, he stepped forward, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The young man felt his gaze and turned, lowering the sword and bowing his head. But the king’s hand found his shoulder, steady and firm.

  “You,” the king’s voice was warm, thick with gratitude. “You are a hero—a guardian of this realm.”

  Word of the battle spread faster than wildfire. That afternoon, his name rippled through the kingdom, whispered in market stalls and shouted in taverns. Children tugged at their mothers’ sleeves, asking to hear the tale again, of the boy who had faced down a dragon and forced it to flee.

  When he walked through the town the next day, people turned to watch him, some reaching out to touch his arm as though to take a bit of his courage for themselves. Men who had once ignored him now tipped their hats, while guards bowed their heads. His poverty and struggle were forgotten; in the eyes of the people, he was no longer just a common boy but a man who had saved their king.

  As a reward, the king gifted him a finely crafted sword, one that shimmered with engravings and symbols of protection. But it was more than just a sword; it was a symbol of the king’s respect, a token of trust from the man he had saved. And with it came the promise of a position in the royal guard—a place he never thought he would belong. He was to stand among knights and captains, to walk the castle corridors not as a worker, but as an honored defender.

  And yet, even with this newfound power and respect, he found himself longing. The people around him, the titles, the riches—all these gifts felt hollow, somehow. He could not help but think of the dragon’s final glance before it flew away, the familiar glimmer in its eye as it had watched him stand defiant, holding his ground. He knew what he needed to do.

  I had thought long and hard, and finally, I knew what I had to do. In the stillness of the night, I slipped out of the castle, leaving behind the stone walls and grand halls, heading toward that familiar forest. How many years had it been since I last walked these paths? The scents of the pines and the damp earth brought back memories—each step felt like returning to an old dream. I wandered alone in the quiet, a calmness settling over me, though an anxiousness flickered within. I couldn't explain it; something deep inside me was stirring.

  Then, there it was—a scent I could never forget. My heart raced as I felt soft, gentle hands wrap around me from behind, and the warmth of a tender embrace pressed against my back. It was her, my only friend. I turned around, breathless.

  Before me stood a woman, now grown, with a graceful, delicate form and hair the color of crimson flames. Her eyes sparkled mischievously, and she smiled that familiar, playful smile.

  "It's been a while! How have you been, my little friend?" she teased, her voice lilting with joy. "Did you see me? I did well, didn’t I? I’ve been watching you for a while, and I came up with that little plan! Clever, wasn’t it?"

  As she spoke, something within me broke. Tears blurred my vision, and a sob escaped my lips. Overwhelmed, I dropped to my knees and threw my arms around her, clinging to her like a lifeline. I cried uncontrollably, my body shaking with each sob.

  "I... I thought I'd never see you again! Where... where have you been all this time? I've waited for you, so long, so painfully long!" I could barely speak through the tears.

  She held me close, her fingers softly brushing through my hair as I buried my face against her. Her touch was comforting, a balm for all the years I had endured without her.

  "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, her voice gentle and soothing. "I'm here now, my sweet one… right here."

  Her arms wrapped around me tightly, and for the first time in years, I felt a warmth that not even the admiration of the townsfolk or the honor of the king could match.

  The reunion was like a forgotten melody, suddenly remembered. As we stood on the cliff’s edge, the wind playing with her crimson hair, her laughter filled the air, and for a moment, I felt like a boy again.

  “Come on, let’s go for a ride,” she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief, just like they did years ago.

  I hesitated, staring at her with a mix of joy and trepidation. “Just like the old days?”

  “Exactly like the old days,” she replied, a playful grin spreading across her face. “Except now, I won’t have to fly slow to keep up with you.”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “You always made me feel like I was flying, even when I was holding on for dear life.”

  Her wings unfolded with a flourish, their majestic span shimmering in the moonlight. She knelt slightly, beckoning me forward with a gesture. “Hop on, hero of the kingdom. Let’s see if you’ve lost your nerve.”

  I climbed onto her back, her warmth familiar and comforting. As we took off, the world melted away. The city became a blur of flickering lights, and the stars above seemed so close I could touch them. The wind roared in my ears, yet her voice carried through it effortlessly.

  “Hold tight!” she yelled, banking sharply. “We’re going to the island.”

  That island. The one we’d flown to so many times as children. The place where we dreamed of adventures, where the world felt infinite.

  When we landed, the air was thick with nostalgia. The scent of the sea mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest. She stretched, letting out a soft sigh. “It’s been years, hasn’t it? This place… it hasn’t changed a bit.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  I dismounted, taking in the sight of her. She wasn’t the little dragon-girl I remembered. She was radiant, her movements graceful, her smile carrying a depth I hadn’t noticed before.

  “You’ve changed,” I said softly.

  She tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Have I? Or is it you who’s changed?”

  I shrugged, smiling. “Maybe both.”

  She turned toward the cliff’s edge, looking out at the endless horizon. “You’re not the little boy I used to tease. You’ve grown strong. Brave. The world hasn’t been kind to you, but you’ve fought back. I’m proud of you.”

  Her words warmed me, but they also stirred something I’d been holding back. “I’ve grown, yes, but… something’s missing. I’ve been given everything—recognition, power, even the king’s favor. But none of it feels right.”

  She glanced at me, curiosity in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  I hesitated, then decided to tell her. “The king wants me to marry his daughter.”

  Her smile faltered, just for a second. “That’s… wonderful. She must be lovely. You’ll have everything you’ve ever dreamed of—a family, a kingdom to call your own.”

  Her words felt like a cold wind cutting through me. “Is that what you think? That I’d be happy with her?”

  She turned away, her voice quieter. “Isn’t that what you want? A normal life? Someone who can give you the stability I never could?”

  “No,” I said firmly, stepping closer. “I don’t want normal. I don’t want her. I want you.”

  Her breath hitched, and she finally met my gaze. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m not human. I’m not someone you can build a life with. I don’t belong to anyone.”

  “Then don’t belong to me,” I said, my voice trembling. “Just… stay with me. That’s all I want.”

  She looked torn, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You don’t understand. My kind… we don’t stay. We can’t. Our hearts are wild. We’re meant to roam, to fly, to—”

  “I don’t care!” I interrupted, my voice breaking. “I don’t care about what you’re meant to do. I care about you. I’ve always cared about you.”

  Before she could respond, I closed the distance between us and kissed her. It wasn’t gentle or cautious. It was a kiss full of longing, of years of unspoken feelings, of a boy who had waited far too long for this moment.

  For a heartbeat, she melted into me, her hands clutching my arms as if afraid to let go. But then, her body began to change. Her skin heated, a fiery warmth spreading from her core. Scales shimmered along her arms, and her wings unfurled involuntarily.

  I pulled back, wincing as the heat seared my skin. Flames danced along her body, and she stumbled away, panic in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay,” I said, even as the pain burned through me. “Don’t go. Please, don’t leave me again.”

  But she was already stepping back, her transformation overtaking her. “I have to. I can’t… I can’t control this. I’ll hurt you.”

  “You won’t,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “You never have. You never will.”

  Tears streamed down her face as her dragon form fully emerged. She took off with a powerful beat of her wings, her silhouette disappearing into the night sky.

  “No!” I screamed, falling to my knees. The burn on my arm was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

  As her figure vanished into the stars, I cried out, my voice raw and broken. “Come back! Please… come back.”

  The island grew silent, the waves lapping gently at the shore. I was alone again, my heart heavier than it had ever been.

  The sound of tiny footsteps echoed through the marble halls of the castle. A little girl, no older than six, darted through the corridors, her laughter filling the air. Her golden curls bounced with every step, and her green eyes sparkled with mischief as she weaved between the towering pillars.

  She was playing a game, one she often invented to entertain herself. In her small hands, she carried a wooden horse, its paint chipped and worn from years of use. She galloped it along the stone floor, whispering to it.

  “Come on, Thunder. We must save the kingdom!” she said, her voice brimming with determination. She held the toy up dramatically, mimicking the heroic tales she’d heard from the castle’s bard.

  Her imagination ran wild as she charged into an empty room, the sunlight streaming through the high windows. “Don’t worry, Papa,” she continued, speaking as if her father were one of the imaginary characters in her story. “I’ll protect you and Mama!”

  But then, she paused. Her toy horse dangled at her side as she wandered to the window. From here, she could see the balcony above the castle gardens. And there, as she often did, she spotted her father.

  He stood alone, leaning on the stone balustrade, his gaze fixed on the horizon. His dark hair, streaked with a touch of gray, fluttered gently in the breeze. He always looked so strong, like the statues of ancient heroes in the great hall, but there was something else in his posture—a heaviness she didn’t understand.

  “Papa?” she said softly, as if he could hear her from so far away.

  She tilted her head, her lips pursed in thought. She had asked her mother about it once.

  “Why does Papa look at the sky so much?”

  Her mother had smiled, brushing her golden curls with a soft hand. “He’s thinking about important things, sweetheart. Kings have a lot on their minds.”

  The little girl frowned, unconvinced. “But he’s not the king yet.”

  Her mother laughed. “No, not yet. But he will be soon. And when that time comes, he’ll make a wonderful king.”

  The girl scrunched her nose. “I don’t want him to be king if it makes him sad.”

  Her mother’s smile faltered just a little, but she quickly hugged her tightly. “Your papa isn’t sad, my love. He’s just… thoughtful. It means he cares deeply about all of us.”

  But as the little girl stood there now, watching her father’s unmoving figure, she wasn’t so sure.

  She skipped down the hall, humming a tune to herself, and found her way to the kitchen. The cooks greeted her warmly, offering her a small tart, which she happily accepted. As she ate, she heard them whispering.

  “The king won’t last the year,” one of the maids said quietly, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one overheard. “And when he’s gone, it’ll be Sir [........]’s turn. He’ll make a fine king, but the poor man looks like he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders already.”

  Another servant nodded. “I wonder if it’s the throne that troubles him, or if it’s something else. There are rumors, you know.”

  “Rumors?”

  “Aye. That he was in love once, before he married the princess. They say it still haunts him.”

  The little girl, oblivious to their murmurs, licked her fingers clean and wandered out to the gardens. She loved the gardens, especially the rose bushes that her mother adored. Her mother often sat there, reading or sewing, and sometimes her father joined them, though his smiles never seemed to reach his eyes.

  The girl found her mother now, sitting beneath the shade of a blossoming tree. “Mama, do you think Papa is sad?” she asked, plopping down beside her.

  Her mother, a graceful woman with auburn hair and warm hazel eyes, looked up from her embroidery. She paused for a moment, her needle hovering in the air, as if carefully weighing her response.

  “Sad?” she repeated, a soft smile forming on her lips. “Why would you think that, darling?”

  The little girl hugged her knees, gazing at the vibrant roses swaying in the breeze. “He always looks at the sky. And he doesn’t smile like you do when you’re happy.”

  Her mother’s hands stilled. For a brief moment, her serene expression faltered, revealing a glimpse of something deeper—an emotion she kept hidden well. She reached out, brushing a stray curl from her daughter’s face.

  “Your papa is a thoughtful man,” she said finally. “Sometimes, when people have lived through many things, they carry their memories with them, even when they don’t want to.”

  “What kind of memories?” the girl asked, her green eyes wide with curiosity.

  Her mother hesitated. “Good ones, and hard ones. Things that made him strong, and things that left marks on his heart. But do you know what’s most important?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “That he loves you, and me, and this kingdom. Everything he does, he does for us. Never forget that.”

  The little girl thought about her mother’s words, but they didn’t seem to fully answer the question lingering in her mind. She looked toward the balcony where her father had stood earlier. Now, it was empty.

  “Will he come back to the garden?” the girl asked, turning back to her mother.

  Her mother’s gaze followed her daughter’s. She set down her embroidery and patted the grass beside her. “Why don’t we sit here and wait? He always finds his way back to us.”

  The two of them sat together, the little girl leaning against her mother’s side as the sunlight dappled their faces through the branches. Her mother hummed softly, a familiar lullaby that always made the little girl feel safe.

  It wasn’t long before they heard the crunch of boots on the gravel path. The little girl’s head shot up, and her face broke into a grin as her father appeared from behind the hedges.

  “Papa!” she called, jumping to her feet and running toward him.

  Papa caught her effortlessly, lifting her into his arms. For a moment, the heaviness in his expression lifted, replaced by a warmth reserved only for her.

  “You’ve been causing trouble again, haven’t you?” he teased, his voice soft but carrying a tired undertone.

  She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Not trouble, Papa! I’ve been saving the kingdom! Thunder and I fought off a dragon!”

  “Oh, a dragon, you say?” His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something unspoken at the mention of the word.

  “Yes! But don’t worry, it wasn’t a mean dragon,” she added quickly. “It was nice, like in the stories!”

  Papa's grip tightened on her just slightly before he set her down. He knelt to her level, brushing a strand of golden hair from her face. “You’ve got quite the imagination, little one.”

  “I get it from Mama!” she declared proudly, pointing back toward the tree where her mother sat, watching them with a tender smile.

  Her mother stood and approached, resting a hand on Papa's shoulder. “She’s been asking about you,” she said softly.

  Papa glanced at his wife, then at his daughter, who was now happily playing with a flower she’d picked. He sighed, rising to his feet.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve been… distracted.”

  His wife touched his arm, her eyes searching his. “You’ve been carrying a heavy burden for too long, my love. Perhaps it’s time to let someone share it with you.”

  He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked toward the horizon, the same way he always did. “The king grows weaker by the day,” he said finally. “When he’s gone, everything will change. The throne, the kingdom… our lives.”

  “And you’ll face it with the strength I know you have,” his wife said firmly. “You’ve already proven yourself to everyone, my beloved husband. But don’t forget that you don’t have to do it alone. We’re here—for you.”

  Her words were gentle, yet they struck something deep within him. He turned to her, his hand brushing against hers. “I know,” he said, though the lingering doubt in his voice was clear.

  Their daughter ran back to them, holding a handful of flowers. “Look, Papa! These are for you!”

  Papa crouched again, accepting the flowers with a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you, my little warrior,” he said, tucking one behind her ear.

  As the three of them stood together in the garden, the weight on the husband's heart felt a little lighter. But deep down, he knew the shadows of the past still lingered, waiting for the moment they would rise again.

  That night, as the castle settled into quiet, Husband found himself once more on the balcony, gazing at the stars. He clutched the small flowers his daughter had given him, their delicate scent mixing with the cool night air.

  He closed his eyes and whispered into the darkness, “Where are you now?”

  Far beyond the castle walls, in a forest where the moonlight pierced through ancient trees, a shadow moved silently. A pair of crimson eyes flickered briefly before disappearing into the night, the dragon’s heart as restless as the man she had left behind.

  The king sat on his throne, chin resting on his hand, eyes distant as the endless reports of the council droned on. His thoughts wandered far from the court, to places unknown even to him. With a heavy sigh, he waved his hand. "Enough for today. I need a break from these matters of state."

  His trusted advisor stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Perhaps a hunt, my king? A chance to clear your mind and breathe the fresh air of the forest?"

  The king’s tired eyes lit up for a moment. "A hunt... Yes. That’s a fine idea. We’ll make it an outing. My daughter will join me—it’s been too long since I’ve spent time with her.”

  The morning had been an endless blur of meetings, requests, and council debates. When the suggestion to hunt came, it was as if the world had offered him a fleeting escape from the crushing weight of his duties. Turns out, being a king isn't just a luxury and enjoyment, but a huge responsibility.

  I couldn't even remember the last time I spent a full day with my daughter. She deserved more of me, and yet I always seemed to give the kingdom everything instead.

  We left the castle before noon, my little girl practically vibrating with excitement. She sat atop her own horse, a small thing that matched her size perfectly. She insisted on riding next to me, peppering me with questions about the hunt.

  “Will there be wolves, Father? Or maybe bears? I heard Sir Elliot say you once fought a bear!”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “No bears today, little one. We’re hunting a stag. And Sir Elliot tends to exaggerate.”

  “You did fight one, though, didn’t you?”

  Her wide eyes and eager tone made me smile. “I might have once, long ago. But I didn’t do it alone.

  The woods stretched endlessly ahead, sunlight dappling the ground in patterns of gold and green. The air was crisp and alive with the scent of pine and damp earth.

  My daughter galloped ahead at times, giggling as she pretended to follow imaginary tracks. Watching her filled me with a bittersweet kind of joy. Her laughter reminded me of what I had gained in this life—but also what I had lost.

  We came to a stream, and as she dismounted to inspect the water, I felt it for the first time: a faint, fleeting scent on the breeze.

  It stopped me in my tracks.

  The familiarity was like a knife twisting in my chest, sharp and unexpected. It was a scent I hadn’t encountered in years, but it was etched into the fabric of my soul.

  “Father?” My daughter’s voice pulled me back.

  “Yes?”

  “You looked like you saw something.”

  I shook my head, forcing a smile. “Just lost in thought. Come, let’s move on.

  It didn’t take long to find the stag. A magnificent beast with antlers like a crown, grazing in a sunlit clearing. I motioned for my daughter to crouch beside me, pulling her close.

  “Stay low,” I whispered. “And quiet. Watch closely.”

  I nocked an arrow, my movements steady despite the turmoil in my chest. But as I drew the string back, that scent hit me again—stronger now, impossibly familiar. My hands faltered for the briefest moment.

  The arrow flew true, striking the stag cleanly. It fell with a single cry, but my victory felt hollow.

  “Father, you did it!” My daughter jumped up, clapping her hands. Her joy was infectious, and I forced myself to smile as I rose.

  “Yes, we did.” I ruffled her hair. “You were my good luck charm.”

  The journey home was filled with her chatter about the hunt. She told me how brave I was, how she wanted to be just like me.

  “You’ll be braver than me someday,” I said, smiling down at her.

  “Do you think Mother will let me keep the antlers?” she asked.

  “Perhaps. If you ask her nicely.”

  But as she spoke, my mind wandered. That scent… it haunted me. It was her. I knew it was her. But how? Why now?

  My heart wrestled with itself as we crossed the castle gates. For years, I’d convinced myself that she was gone forever, that the life I built here was my only future.

  But what if she wasn’t gone?

  Later that evening, as the castle settled into its usual quiet, I stood alone on the balcony, staring out into the endless dark of the forest.

  The scent had been so vivid, so real. Was it just a trick of memory? A ghost from my past, brought on by the hunt?

  Or was it her?

  I clenched the stone railing, closing my eyes, the wind swept past me. My heart ached with questions I couldn’t answer, and fears I couldn’t silence.

  Behind me, my wife called softly, asking if I would come to bed. I murmured something about needing air, knowing she wouldn’t press me.

  But I couldn’t rest. Not now.

  Not until I knew.

  I couldn’t sleep.

  The warm night air pressed against me, offering no comfort. It was quiet, too quiet, and the stillness began to suffocate. Unable to bear it any longer, I slipped out of bed and left the castle. The corridors were empty, the guards silent at their posts, and soon, I was outside.

  The forest surrounded me, alive with the faint rustle of leaves. The cool breeze kissed my face, but it couldn’t calm my restless thoughts. I wandered deeper, seeking something I couldn’t name. Then it came—a scent, faint but familiar.

  My chest tightened. Where had I smelled it before?

  My pace quickened, the aroma drawing me forward. It grew stronger, stirring something deep within me. I moved faster, driven by a mix of hope and desperation. The forest blurred around me until I was running, lungs burning with each breath.

  And then it vanished.

  I stopped, gasping for air. The scent was gone, leaving only the oppressive silence of the woods. My legs felt weak, and I sank to the ground, overwhelmed by a wave of despair.

  I looked around, realizing the forest had changed. Somehow, I was in an open field. Flowers stretched out in every direction, their delicate petals glowing softly in the moonlight. Above, the sky was vast and clear, stars scattered like diamonds. It was beautiful, but it brought no solace.

  I collapsed into the flowers, pulling my knees to my chest. “Why?” I whispered, voice shaking. “Why can’t I find peace? Why won’t anyone help me?”

  Tears welled up, and I let them fall.

  A touch—soft and warm—caressed my head. Fingers combed gently through my hair. I froze, unable to move or speak.

  “Hello, my sweet,” came a voice, warm and familiar.

  I didn’t dare look. Her touch continued, soothing, and then she wrapped her arms around me. The scent returned, stronger than before, wrapping around me like a memory come alive.

  I finally opened my eyes.

  There she was.

  She knelt before me, her crimson hair spilling over her shoulders. A crown of flowers rested atop her head, its colors vibrant against the night. Her gaze held mine, a mixture of warmth and sadness.

  Tears broke free as I lunged into her arms, pulling her close. We fell into the flowers, and I held her tightly, afraid she might disappear again.

  “Where were you?” My voice cracked. “Why did you leave? I waited… for so long.”

  “I’m here now,” she said softly. Her hands cradled me, fingers tracing calming circles.

  I pulled back, trembling. My hands found her face, brushing against her soft skin. She was real—finally, truly real.

  Without thinking, I kissed her.

  The kiss was filled with everything I couldn’t say: the years of longing, the heartbreak, the love I had kept buried. Her lips moved against mine, tender and welcoming.

  The kiss deepened, and soon, all restraint crumbled. Years of longing, heartache, and unspoken feelings ignited into a passion neither of us could contain. Her lips were warm and soft, moving against mine with a desperation that matched my own.

  I held her close, feeling the slight tremor in her hands as they explored my back, pulling me closer, as if she feared I might slip away. The night around us vanished, the stars forgotten. There was only her, and me, and the gentle hum of our breaths.

  Her body, familiar yet new, pressed against mine, and I found myself lost in her warmth. Our clothes became a hindrance, shed hastily and discarded among the flowers. The cool night air kissed our skin, and her touch burned through me, searing into my very soul.

  She guided me, her movements confident yet tender, a mix of yearning and reverence. Each kiss, each caress, was a declaration of everything we had left unsaid. Her crimson hair fell around us like a curtain, her eyes locked on mine, glowing faintly in the moonlight.

  “I’ve wanted this,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “for so long.”

  I couldn’t find words, so I showed her instead. My hands traced her curves, memorizing every inch of her, every detail I thought I’d lost forever. She shivered beneath my touch, her breaths quickening, her heart pounding against mine.

  Time lost meaning as we gave ourselves to one another, moving together with a rhythm that felt as old as the earth beneath us. The world was silent, save for the whispers of our shared pleasure. She clung to me as though I were her anchor, and I held her as though she were my salvation.

  When it was over, we lay entwined in the field of flowers, her head resting on my chest. My hand idly played with her hair, marveling at its softness. The sky above sparkled with countless stars, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt at peace.

  But then, her body tensed.

  I sat up, alarmed, and looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t respond, her lips parting as her breath hitched. A faint shimmer spread across her skin, like liquid light flowing beneath the surface. She closed her eyes, her brows knitting together in concentration.

  “It’s happening,” she murmured.

  Before I could ask what she meant, her body began to change.

  Her form stretched and grew, her skin shifting into shimmering crimson scales. Her limbs elongated, her fingers transforming into claws. Her hair melded into her body, replaced by a ridge of sharp, glimmering spikes. A tail coiled behind her, and her wings unfurled with a force that sent the flowers around us into a frenzy.

  Her transformation completed, and she rose above me, no longer a woman but a massive, magnificent dragon. Her head tilted down, her glowing eyes meeting mine. Flames licked at the edges of her mouth, her breath radiating heat.

  For a moment, the night turned into day. A torrent of fire erupted from her, illuminating the field in a blinding golden blaze. The flowers around us glowed in the light, their colors vivid and alive.

  When the flames subsided, the field was untouched, the magic in her fire leaving it unharmed. She stood there, her wings stretched wide, her presence overwhelming and awe-inspiring.

  I stared up at her, unable to speak. She was breathtaking.

  She lowered her head, her eyes softening. “I couldn’t control it,” she said, her voice deeper but still hers. “It happens when I’m… happy.”

  I reached out, my hand brushing against the smooth, warm scales of her snout. “You’re incredible,” I said, my voice steady. “And I’m still here.”

  Her chest rumbled with a low, melodic sound—laughter. She folded her wings and lowered herself to the ground, curling her tail around me protectively. “You’re not afraid?”

  I shook my head. “Not of you. Never of you.”

  Her gaze softened further, and she nudged me gently. “We’re in a place no one can find,” she explained. “A world close to yours but hidden. I wanted us to be alone, just for tonight.”

  I ran my hand over her scales, marveling at their warmth. “Then show me,” I said. “Show me this place of yours.”

  Her wings unfurled again, and she lowered her body. I climbed onto her back, gripping the ridges of her neck as she rose. With a single, powerful leap, we were airborne, soaring high into the night.

  The stars surrounded us, closer than I’d ever imagined. The wind rushed past, cool against my skin.

  We talked as we flew, our voices carrying through the vast, open sky. She spoke of the years she’d spent watching me, the pain of staying away, the joy of finally being with me again. I told her of the emptiness I’d felt, the nights spent looking at the sky, wishing she’d return.

  The world below blurred into a patchwork of shadow and light, but up here, in her embrace, everything felt clear.

  “You’ve always been more than a friend to me,” I said, my voice firm.

  She turned her massive head slightly, her glowing eyes meeting mine. “And you’ve always been my heart,” she replied.

  We flew on, the night endless and perfect, a haven for two souls finally reunited.

  The night passed like a fleeting dream. We talked endlessly, her voice filling the silence that had once felt unbearable. We wandered together, revisiting memories and weaving new ones, until the horizon began to glow with the first light of dawn.

  As we approached the palace gates, I reached for her hand. Her fingers were warm and soft in mine, and for a moment, the world felt whole again.

  “Come,” I said, leading her inside.

  The corridors were quiet, bathed in the golden hues of morning. As we entered the main hall, a giggle echoed from the grand staircase. My daughter, already awake and playing with her favorite toy, looked up and beamed when she saw me.

  “Papa!” she exclaimed, running towards me.

  I crouched to meet her, sweeping her into my arms and spinning her around. Her laughter filled the hall, a sound so pure it melted the weight of the years that had passed.

  My companion stood nearby, watching silently. Her crimson hair glowed in the soft light, and her eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions—joy, sadness, and something deeper.

  “Who’s that, Papa?” my daughter asked, her curiosity piqued.

  I glanced at her, then at my companion. “She’s an old friend,” I said gently, my voice carrying the weight of everything I couldn’t say.

  Footsteps echoed from the upper floors, the sharp click of heels descending the staircase. My wife appeared, graceful and composed, her eyes immediately falling on us. She offered a polite smile as she approached, her gaze shifting to the woman beside me.

  “Good morning,” she said, her tone warm but measured. “Welcome to our home.”

  My companion nodded, her expression calm yet guarded. “Thank you for having me,” she replied.

  The tension in the air was almost imperceptible, but I could feel it. My wife’s eyes lingered on me for a moment too long, her smile faltering just slightly. She knew. She had always known something was amiss, something I could never fully explain.

  We exchanged pleasantries, the conversation polite but shallow. My heart raced, not from fear, but from the overwhelming emotions coursing through me. I was so close to the person I had dreamed of for so long, yet the weight of my reality anchored me.

  After a while, I led her to the room I had prepared. “This will be your room,” I said, pushing the door open.

  She stepped inside, her fingers grazing the walls as she walked. Her movements were deliberate, her expression a mix of wonder and sadness.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, forcing a small smile.

  “You can stay as long as you like,” I blurted out, the words escaping before I could stop them. “I mean… only for a little while, of course,” I added, my nervous laughter betraying my attempt to appear composed.

  She turned to me, her eyes searching mine. “I’ll stay,” she said quietly. “But not for long.”

  Her words hit me harder than I expected. I realized how I must have looked—like a child clutching a long-lost toy, desperate and elated all at once. Embarrassment flushed through me, and I averted my gaze.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

  She nodded and turned back to the room, her fingers brushing the windowsill. I lingered for a moment longer, watching her, before stepping back into the hallway.

  As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it, exhaling deeply. My emotions were a storm, and I struggled to navigate the chaos. For so long, I had yearned for this reunion, but now that it was here, I felt as though I were standing on the edge of a precipice.

  This was everything I had ever wanted. But it came with a cost, one I wasn’t sure I could bear.

  Autumn had arrived, painting the palace gardens in shades of gold and amber. The crisp air carried the faint scent of fallen leaves. Outside, the dragon and the king played like carefree children, tossing handfuls of leaves at each other and jumping into the enormous piles gathered by the palace staff.

  The dragon’s laughter echoed through the grounds—a sound both enchanting and fragile. But beneath her joyful exterior, a change had begun. Over the weeks, her vibrant crimson hair had dulled to a pale silver. Her eyes, once sparkling with life, often carried a faraway look.

  Her transformation was subtle but unrelenting. She grew quieter, spending more time in the confines of her narrow chamber. The walls seemed to close in on her, suffocating her spirit. She wasn’t meant to live like this—trapped, restrained. She was a dragon first, a creature of boundless freedom, not a human bound by walls.

  The king noticed but said nothing, his duties pulling him in different directions. Diplomatic matters required his attention, and soon, he had to leave for another kingdom.

  On the morning of his departure, his wife, daughter, a

  nd the dragon gathered to bid him farewell. The dragon stood a little apart, her arms crossed tightly against the chill in the air.

  “I won’t be gone long,” he promised, his eyes lingering on her. “Stay here. Rest. Don’t worry about me.”

  She nodded but said nothing.

  A few weeks after his departure, the queen found the dragon sitting alone outside, her silver hair catching the faint sunlight. With two cups of tea in hand, the queen approached.

  “May I join you?” she asked, her tone polite but firm.

  The dragon nodded, her expression unreadable.

  They sat in silence for a while, sipping tea and watching the bare trees sway in the breeze. Finally, the queen spoke.

  “You know, my husband is a good man,” she began, her voice steady. “He’s always been good to me. To our daughter. He loves us more than anything.”

  The dragon said nothing, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

  “I’ve known him my whole life,” the queen continued, her voice growing colder. “But I’ve never seen the look he gave you that day. When he held your hand and brought you into our home. There was something in his eyes I had never seen before. Something I didn’t think he was capable of.”

  The dragon’s jaw tightened, but she still didn’t respond.

  “What did he do to you?” the queen demanded, her voice rising. “Why do you hate him so much? Why did you come here, to ruin him, to ruin us?”

  The dragon’s eyes flicked to the queen, a faint glimmer of anger breaking through her apathy.

  “You’ve broken him,” the queen accused, standing now. “He’s not the same. He can’t live his life properly because of you. Why can’t you leave him alone? Why can’t you let him go?”

  Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face. But just as quickly as her anger had flared, she regained her composure. With a shaky breath, she brushed the leaves off her dress and straightened.

  “I’ll ask you one last time,” she said quietly. “Leave him. Leave him and let him live in peace.”

  Without waiting for a response, the queen turned and walked away, her movements as graceful and deliberate as ever.

  The first snow of the season began to fall as the king’s caravan returned to the palace. The sound of hooves clattered against the wet ground as he dismounted, eager to see his family. His wife and daughter greeted him at the gates, their smiles bright and warm.

  He hugged his daughter tightly, lifting her into the air as she squealed with delight. But his eyes darted around, searching for the third figure.

  Before he could ask, his wife spoke.

  “She’s gone,” she said lightly. “Our guest has left. But…” She reached into the neckline of her dress, retrieving a small folded parchment that she had kept close to her heart. Handing it to him with care, she added, “She left you a note, my king. I didn’t open it—I thought it was meant only for you.”

  Her tone was sweet, almost childlike, as though she were seeking his approval. She tossed her hair back, revealing her new crimson locks.

  “How do you like my new look?” she asked, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

  He studied her for a moment, then reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek and running them through her hair.

  “You look stunning,” he said softly.

  Her eyes welled with tears, and she threw her arms around him, peppering his face with kisses. He laughed, holding her tightly, but his mind was elsewhere.

  “Papa, you’re squishing me!” their daughter giggled.

  “Your daughter is watching,” he whispered into his wife’s ear, causing her to pull back, blushing but laughing.

  As the family shared their reunion, the king’s face betrayed a flicker of sadness.

  At last, or so it seemed like, He had let the dragon go.

  The note in his pocket remained unopened for a long time, its meaning waiting for the right moment to be revealed.

  The sky opened to her with boundless freedom, a vast expanse calling her back to the world that had shaped her. With every powerful beat of her wings, she ascended higher, leaving behind the only place she had ever dared call home. The air grew colder the farther she climbed, a biting wind tugging at her crimson hair, which danced in the breeze like flames against the pale dawn.

  The note she had written, now safely in his pocket, carried all the words she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud:

  My love, my king,

  I must leave for now, but know this: I will return. Not as a fleeting shadow in your life, but as a constant presence. I have no intention of vanishing forever, nor will I let you bear this separation for long. Wait for me, and know that in every breath I take, I am thinking of you.

  Forgive me if I take more than I give. It is my nature—my curse—to leave behind echoes that linger. Perhaps I am not so much a dragon as I am something more sinister, feeding on the hearts of those I love to sustain myself. Still, I cannot stop returning to you. You are my sanctuary, even when I cannot be yours.

  She had held the letter to her chest as she wrote it, pouring the essence of her soul into every word. Perhaps he would read it and think her selfish. Perhaps he would see the truth of her love and the pain of her departure. Either way, she knew she had to leave before her presence consumed him entirely.

  The familiar fields of flowers greeted her as she glided through the cool air, her massive wings brushing against the wind. The vibrant colors stretched endlessly below her, an ocean of red, gold, and purple blooms swaying gently in harmony. She descended briefly, her claws grazing the earth where they had once kissed, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she could still feel his warmth.

  The tranquility of the field didn’t last. A shadow passed over her, vast and foreboding. She turned her head sharply, spotting a colossal black dragon in the distance. Its scales shimmered like polished obsidian, its one remaining eye a piercing, milky white that seemed to see through her entirely.

  Instinctively, she folded her wings slightly, dipping below him to show her submission. The black dragon acknowledged her gesture with a slow, deliberate turn of its head, its massive form vanishing into the clouds.

  The encounter was a reminder. This was not a place for humans, not a world where they could exist without great peril. The dangers that roamed here were ancient, primal, and indifferent to the fragility of human life. Her heart ached at the thought of her love trying to endure this realm.

  Days and nights blended into a seamless flow as she moved across realms, her perception of time distorted by her nature. To her, a moment could feel like an eternity, and eternity could slip by like a fleeting breath. The stars above shifted into unfamiliar constellations, their light whispering tales of ages past.

  In her solitude, she thought of him—of his warmth, his laugh, and the way he had held her as if she were both fragile and fierce. Her thoughts returned to his daughter, the little girl’s bright smile, and the wife’s sharp words that lingered like echoes of judgment.

  But above all, she thought of him. Of how his presence had filled the emptiness she hadn’t even known existed. She found herself wondering if she was cruel to leave him, even temporarily, yet she couldn’t bear the thought of him growing tired of her suffocating presence.

  She flew over jagged mountain ranges, through ancient forests cloaked in mist, and across endless seas that glimmered with the light of twin moons. The further she journeyed, the more she felt her strength returning, her connection to the world of dragons growing stronger. Yet, she was acutely aware of the cost: for every moment she spent away, the world she had left behind would change in ways she could not foresee.

  "No, this won't do. No, no!" The dragon spread her wings, trying to calm the tremors that overtook her body. "He is my love. He is everything I have. I promised to come back sooner than usual. Why?"

  Her claws dug lightly into the ground, gripping clumps of grass and soil. "Why does time fly so fast? I want to cry..." She felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her, threatening to spill over. "To hell with what his wife says. I've known him all my life, or... No? Could it be that she has spent more time with him than I have?"

  A pang of doubt hit her, but she shook her head fiercely. "No, I mustn't fill my head with unnecessary thoughts. I love him, and he loves me. That's the most important thing."

  With renewed determination, she turned with all her might and set her course straight towards him, her love. The air rushed past her as she soared, each powerful beat of her wings propelling her closer. She couldn't let anything stand in her way, not even her own doubts and fears.

  As the dragon soared through the skies, the familiar landscape below filled her heart with a bittersweet hope. She had returned sooner this time—sooner than ever before. "He will be happy. He will forgive me," she thought, clinging to the promise in her letter.

  But as she descended, confusion clouded her mind. The city she remembered, once full of life, lay in ruins. Broken walls jutted out of the ground like jagged teeth, and ash coated the remains of what had once been homes, markets, and bustling streets. "No… This can’t be the place. It’s wrong. I must have made a mistake," she murmured to herself, circling above the desolation.

  The fields they had once walked through was nothing but scorched earth, the vibrant colors replaced with gray. Her thoughts spun in chaos. "Did I lose my way? What happened to this place?"

  Suddenly, the toll of a bell rang out, shattering the eerie silence. The sound froze her in midair. It was an unmistakable sound—one meant to warn of a dragon’s arrival. Memories of their first reunion flooded back to her, and her chest tightened.

  She turned her gaze toward the source of the sound and saw a frail figure pulling at a rusted bell. He rang it with weak, shaky movements, the sound barely carrying through the empty ruins. "Who is that?" she thought, narrowing her eyes to focus on the figure below.

  The man, hunched and old, stumbled back from the bell. His face was wrinkled, his hands trembling, but his determination was fierce. Slowly, he made his way to the remnants of a house. From inside, he dragged out a massive sword, far too big for his frail body. The blade scraped against the ground, leaving a shallow trail in the dirt as he trudged forward.

  He looked around, his eyes scanning for threats, foolish were his moves, there was no one left to protect. His heart pounded, muscle memory guiding his movements. But then, with a sudden burst of energy, his shaking hand shot up, and he cried out, "This time, I am ready... fight me! Fight me now!" His voice was hoarse, desperate. The wild gleam in his eyes spoke of something far darker, a memory of battles fought and forgotten. He was not speaking to her, but to the dragon that stood before him, the one he remembered, the one he had once fought.

  But halfway to his imagined enemy, the weight of the sword became too much. He stopped, breathing heavily, the weapon slipping from his hands. His knees buckled, and he stood there, shaking.

  The dragon, who had landed silently nearby, transformed into her human form. Tears streamed down her face as she ran toward him. Her heart knew what her mind struggled to accept. "No… It’s him. It’s him!"

  The old man turned slightly at the sound of her footsteps. His eyes, cloudy with age, widened as recognition flickered through them. Before he could speak, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

  "It’s you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You’re alive. You’re still here…"

  He weakly raised a hand to touch her face, her still beautiful crimson hair... a small, tired smile forming on his lips. "You… came back," he rasped.

  She helped him to the ruins of his house and gently laid him down on a broken bed. Her hands trembled as she tried to comfort him. "I’ll bring herbs to heal you," she said desperately, standing to leave.

  But his hand caught hers. His grip was weak, but his voice, though faint, was firm. "No," he said. "Don’t go. Not again."

  Her heart broke as she knelt beside him, holding his hand tightly. "I’m so sorry," she cried. "I should have come back sooner. I should have stayed."

  The old man slowly reached out toward the wooden horse resting on the nearby shelf. His fingers trembled, barely brushing the air, but before he could grasp it, her gentle hands wrapped around his, pressing it tightly against her heart, as if trying to anchor him here, in this final moment.

  He sighed faintly, his eyes closing as tears slipped down his weathered cheeks.

  His breathing slowed, and she felt the life leave his body. "No," she whispered, her voice cracking. "No, no, no…"

  She cradled him in her arms, her cries echoing through the desolate ruins. Overwhelmed with grief, she transformed into her dragon form. Her massive body shook as she roared, the sound reverberating across the empty land.

  Breaking through the remains of the house, she took to the skies, clutching his lifeless body. As she rose higher and higher, she opened her jaws and consumed him, keeping him with her forever.