The wind, sharp and biting, howled through the narrow pass as the group of adventurers pressed onward. Ellie rode at the front of the procession, her knuckles pale from gripping the reins too tightly. The jagged peaks loomed like silent sentinels on either side, casting long shadows over the desolate trail. The Dreadmoor Pass stretched endlessly ahead, a barren path carved into the bones of the mountains.

It was dangerously close to Velsorin’s territory, and the risk of sending a larger force had been deemed too great. A larger party might have been seen as the first sign of incursion, sparking a war no one could afford. Their small group, though capable, was meant to slip by unnoticed, an unspoken gamble that hoped for survival over confrontation.

"Too thin. Too cold," Ellie muttered under her breath, pulling her cloak tighter. It wasn’t just the cold that gnawed at her. The weight of the impending confrontation—a dragon—dragged her heart down, each step forward heavier than the last.

The stories had always made her lightheaded. Creatures of fire and shadow, older than the mountains themselves. She’d heard the legends, just like everyone else. And now, because of one misunderstanding that had snowballed into something absurd, she was supposed to face one.

Ellie’s gaze shifted toward the party trailing behind her, the kingdom’s finest warriors and mages. They were armed to the teeth, their grim faces locked in focus. Swords and staves glinted in the dim light, and whispers of strategy flitted through their ranks. All of them thought they were following a great mage—someone who had tamed magic in ways no one had seen before.

If they knew the truth...

Ahead, the trail narrowed even further, forcing them into a natural funnel between steep rocks. Ellie shot a glance at the rider next to her, Haldor, whose steady presence both grounded and unnerved her. His gray-streaked beard bristled in the wind, eyes sharp as ever.

Haldor had been one of the first to question her supposed abilities, back when the rumors had just begun to spread through the guild. Yet, even then, there had been a grudging respect in his voice, as if he knew the game she was playing—and approved, in his own rough way.

“Hard to believe we’re headed straight for a dragon,” Haldor muttered, breaking the silence. His deep voice, carried by the wind, sounded more like he was commenting on the weather than on an impending life-or-death battle. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Ellie swallowed, unsure how to respond. Honesty wasn’t an option here—not with Haldor, not with anyone. She gave a tight nod, keeping her eyes fixed on the darkening horizon.

“You’ll do fine,” Haldor added, glancing at her with a half-smile tugging at the edge of his beard. “You’ve got more up your sleeve than most. Saw it myself, back in Greymire.”

The knot in Ellie’s stomach twisted. Greymire. He hadn’t seen anything real that day. She remembered the crowd in the guild hall, all eyes on her, waiting for proof of the legend they’d built around her. They saw what they wanted to see, even though she’d barely done anything. A fluke, a lucky accident—yet here she was.

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“Keep ’em guessing.,” Haldor had said back then, with that gravelly voice thick with irony. The memory prickled at her now, as if mocking her all over again.

But this... this was no guessing game.

“I’m not sure how much guessing helps with a dragon,” Ellie mumbled, barely audible over the wind.

Haldor chuckled, a low rumble. “You’d be surprised. Dragons might be all fire and fury, but they’ve got weaknesses like everything else. Besides,” he added with a sideways glance, “you’ve got a knack for coming out of things unscathed.”

Ellie bit her lip, not trusting herself to respond. A knack, he said. As if she controlled it, as if survival were something she could shape with a flick of her wrist. “I wish.”

They pressed on, the sun sinking behind the peaks, casting long, jagged shadows over the pass. When they finally stopped to make camp, the tension was palpable. The adventurers gathered around their fires, sharpening blades, whispering strategies. The mages chanted quiet incantations, faces lit by the flickering flames.

Ellie kept her distance, sitting alone by the edge of the camp, her eyes fixed on the crackling fire in front of her. Her thoughts spiraled, twisting like smoke. “How am I supposed to defeat a dragon?”

Haldor’s presence was a constant weight nearby. He had seen more of her truth than anyone else, yet he never called her out. Why? Approval? Or was he just waiting for her to fail?

After a long stretch of silence, his voice cut through the crackling flames. “You ever wonder,” he began, his tone casual but his words sharp, “if maybe the stories about you are bigger than the truth?”

Ellie blinked. She turned to him, surprised by the question. Haldor’s face was half-hidden in shadow, but his eyes gleamed, curious rather than accusatory. It was a question wrapped in layers of irony, like everything with him. She hesitated. “Every day.”

Haldor grunted softly, a chuckle buried beneath. “Well, keep it that way. It’s the stories that matter. Doesn’t really matter what’s true, so long as people believe it.”

Ellie frowned, her fingers curling tighter around her cloak. The stories that matter? Maybe for the people around the fire, the people depending on her. But what about when the dragon was breathing down her neck? Would it care about stories?

“Listen, Ellie.” Haldor shifted, leaning closer to the fire. “I’ve fought a lot of monsters. Half of ’em weren’t the kind you could fight with steel or spells. They were here”—he tapped a finger to his temple—“or here.” He tapped his chest. “You’re smart enough to know what’s real and what isn’t. But these people? They don’t need real. They need you.”

Ellie stared into the flames, his words swirling in her head like the smoke. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that she couldn’t do this—that the weight of their expectations would crush her. But her throat tightened, and the words died there.

Haldor’s eyes didn’t leave her. “A dragon’s just a bigger swallow. But people? They’re complicated. You keep them believing, and you can do just about anything.”

She glanced up at him, searching his face for some kind of answer, but his expression was unreadable. There was no mocking in his tone this time, no irony. Just hard-won truth, spoken from years of survival.

Ellie didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure she could. The dragon loomed in her mind, a force beyond anything she could comprehend. She had gotten by on stories and half-truths until now, but this time felt different. The dragon wouldn’t care about the legend of Ellie. It would know the difference between myth and reality.

And so would she.