The dust was swept away as small wings lifted a little dragon, about half an adult’s arm in length. He darted across the room, his shadow looming over the wooden walls and ancient furniture. A grunt, or a squeak, I’m unsure, but the dragon yelped as I caught it with my hand, his head in a vise and in likely moderate pain.

“Good morning, Gustaf,” I teased, slowly releasing my grip. He remained floating and lightly flapping his wings, his eyes trying to look menacing; but I knew that look. “Come on then,” I invited. A smile flashed on his razor, sharp teeth as he careened over to my gut while I pulled him in a hug.

It was a weird quirk of this odd dragon. But I liked to pet animals, anyway. I didn’t complain. If this particular guy was an animal, that was up in the air for now. I wouldn’t want to rack my brains over it.

“Care for some tea?” I certainly did, and tea there was on the tabletop. Gustaf didn’t respond because he does not know the brilliance of tea. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a particular taste for tea. I just felt like having one this morning. I remembered the recipe aria I learned before from a famous teamakist(?) Teamaker(?) and so I tried it.

Taking a sip, I instantly regretted my decision and spat. It didn’t hit the dragon, fortunately landing on the stone floor -- however, he was threateningly going in for a lick so I saved him and myself from any further agony. That was something I wouldn’t want for myself to witness.

“Magic is convenient but is a pain in the ass, too,” I lamented, rubbing my hands on Gustaf’s temple; him purring like a cat. I do not know if all dragons are like this, but this particular one can make me believe he’s very much alone and will possibly remain single for the rest of his life.

Having had enough, I stood up from my bed, the pesky dragon in tow, while enjoying the musky scent of the books littered all around my room.

I picked up a book from just underneath the bed. It practically reeked at this point, but it was an oddly pleasant odor. The book was named “the Grand Concept of Arias,” for which I will tell you: I do not have an idea what it could mean, at least not an exact one.

I have never finished an entire book in my life. Although I have read quite a lot, I mostly skim them and really only look for the information that I need. Quite often, I forget I even bought a book and what I actually learned from it. Call me a dimwit, but it works for me.

While going through my habit of skimming this particular book for nothing in particular, the pipsqueak’s unlikely strength forced himself out from my now single-armed grip. I instantly lost my balance and fell forward, rolling as I hit the ground. I wanted to look amazing and use the momentum to roll back on my feet, but ended up on my back, dazed and confused.

The ceiling was high, and a dim chandelier hung from it. A mysterious power could be felt wafting from it, and it felt soothing to anyone in the room. This was my token; those of my family can have one and they can be in different forms. My token represents freedom, although it doesn’t look like that in form.

The annoying sound of a dragon calling for attention woke me from my daze, and I rolled to my side and looked towards the sound. His tiny arms were pointing at a parchment, dried and brown. I stood up to take it, and as I did, my eyes went wide immediately as I read the heading.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Letter from the King, an emergency request;

Now that my mind’s awake, I remembered the last thing I said to myself before sleeping.

Wake up early so you can meet the King!

The King is a very close friend and I wouldn’t ignore a request from him. I placed the letter inside the inner pocket of my sparkly white robe. My robe had a v-shaped cut through its midsection up until my belly, so I had to wear shaded gray loosely fitted shorts or else I risked either experiencing public humiliation or sparking outrage, the latter being a good outcome but the means will never justify that end. I also liked to wear a tanktop or tunic with muted colors, and today I went with a blackish one.

I was ready at this point, as one of my passive magics maintain my cleanliness whenever I’m in an idle and ideal state. Call me a cheat, but a magic that doesn’t feel like a cheat isn’t magical enough, in my opinion. Actually, around this area, it’s  everyone’s opinion I believe, and so there.

As for the last leg of my preparation, I looked up towards the chandelier. I pointed my palm as if I tried to reach for it. There was a connection that could be felt between me and the chandelier, almost like it was alive.

It wasn’t alive though. It simply was the object that carried my magic. But it was much more alive than it was before. It must be the sleep.

Return.

The chandelier slowly flashed to white until it turned milky in color, its luminance fading. Eventually, it became viscous; its now liquid form dripping unto my palms. The substance seeped into my pores, filling my entire body with indescribable pain. I hunched as I grabbed my sternum, a clawing, piercing pain stabbing and raking at the very edges of my lungs. Slowly, it flowed towards my core, where it must have been heated to thousands of degrees -- I had to kneel and reel back in pain.

But I could feel it, the bulk of my power filling up my very being.

The increase inmagic empowered me. It filled my mind with melancholy, dread, triumph, confidence, glee and apathy. An intense, ironic mix of emotions.

It was always baffling, the feeling of not being in control of your body but feeling the full alertness of your mind, and till now I find no word to explain it but:

Helplessness.

Eventually, my mind and body calmed down, the inordinate magic taking a back seat and I regained control of myself. I had to make sure that I turn this back into a chandelier or some other object that can act as a diffuser or else there’s going to be a problem.

Taking my mind off of that future dilemma, I tied a white belt over my waist, as unsure an anyone where I got it from (I always wore some kind of belt when I go for this look). It’s my staple and it gets bothersome to change clothes, anyway. It’s like a trademark that doesn’t get annoying so long as you don’t show yourself too much.

I needed to be powered-up before I gander into the woods where I’ll have to walk a few miles to get to the capital. If the letter’s contents prove true, then I’ll be encountering creatures I’ve never seen before.

I thought over the contents of the letter and its implications. It spoke of monsters that spawned exponentially over the months, and has since become a major international problem. Every noble house, such as us the Asters, have been called to arms to combat this threat.

Large animals aren’t that rare in this continent, but it felt like the word monster here have a different nuance. I wondered about the actual characteristics and why the feeling of these two words differed in their weights.

Then there was a rumble and a mental alert pinged in my head. My house was under attack. Gustaf flew upwards and immediately zoomed past me and towards the exit.

“Gustaf, don’t rush in!”

There was a shriek that returned for a reply.

Regaining my thoughts, I immediately thought: monster. It must have felt the magic that briefly was unconcealed when I returned it. I felt a bit anxious, not knowing what to expect, but I moved forward towards the entrance, armed and ready.