The dragon's wings unfurled to their full span. Catty clung to the ridge along his neck, her breath caught somewhere between awe and sheer panic. She barely had time to feel his powerful muscles coil beneath her, and he leaped into the air.
The ground fell away faster than she expected, and a gasp escaped her lips as the wind whipped past her face. The dragon's wings beat rhythmically, each powerful stroke lifting them higher into the sky. For a brief moment, her grip tightened instinctively, but then she felt it—his steadiness. He wasn't flailing or wobbling as she'd feared. He was soaring.
Catty's gasp turned into an unrestrained laugh. "We're flying!" she shouted, the words lost to the wind.
The dragon responded with a deep rumble and angled into a smooth glide. Catty felt the shift immediately and adjusted, leaning forward slightly. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever known—freedom, power, and connection all rolled into one. She could feel his movements as if they were her own, every tilt and turn of his body communicating what he needed her to do.
"Lean with him!" Serafima's voice came from the ground, and Catty did just that, pressing her legs tightly against his sides as he banked into a turn. The dragon's wings sliced through the air, the world below spinning in a blur of green.
They practiced turns, each one smoother than the last, and Catty found herself grinning, the fear melting away as she began to trust him completely. He dove suddenly, the wind rushing past her ears as her stomach flipped. She let out a squeal of delight, clinging closely as he pulled up at the last second, leveling out into another glide.
"You're showing off now!" the girl laughed, her voice carrying on the wind.
From the ground, Serafima watched them circle above. Her arms crossed her chest, but her posture was far from relaxed. Her gaze followed them with an intensity that hid her calm, pride, and something heavier—perhaps nostalgia or the weight of memories long buried. The corners of her lips twitched upward, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.
Catty noticed Serafima's expression as they passed overhead, her mentor's figure small against the vast expanse of the sanctuary. For a fleeting moment, Catty wondered what Serafima was thinking, but the dragon's sudden upward lurch drew her focus back to the ride.
They climbed higher, the dragon's wings working with renewed energy. Catty leaned into the movement naturally now, their rhythm perfectly synchronized. She relaxed her hands, spreading her arms slightly to feel the wind rushing past her fingertips. This was no longer just flying. This was freedom.
The dragon began his descent with a grace Catty wouldn't have believed possible just weeks ago. His wings adjusted their angle, catching the air perfectly as he eased them toward the ground. Catty bent forward, her legs pressing gently against his sides, her body moving with his as though they had been flying together for years.
The ground rose to meet them, the grass shimmering in the late afternoon light. With one final, powerful stroke of his wings, the dragon slowed, landing with a soft thud. Catty felt the solidness of the ground beneath his paws and exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"We did it," she whispered, her voice barely audible over her pounding heart.
The dragon rumbled softly and craned his neck to look back at the girl. His bright eyes sparkled with pride, and Catty couldn't help but laugh, her hands brushing over his scales in a gesture of gratitude and affection.
"You were amazing, R.I.," she said, jumping off from his back. Her feet touched the ground, but she still felt as though she were floating.
Serafima approached them, and Catty looked up at her mentor with a grin that stretched ear to ear.
"Did you see that? We flew!"
Serafima smiled knowingly, "I saw. You guys are great! It was awesome!"
Catty stood on tiptoe to meet the dragon's gaze, her fingers brushing against his snout as he nudged her hand affectionately.
"He's incredible," the girl said, her voice softer now. "I mean, we still have a lot to figure out, but—" She paused, searching for the right words. "I think we can do this."
"This was an important step," Serafima said. "Not just for him, but for you."
"What do you mean?" Catty straightened, her smile faltering slightly at the sadness in Serafima's tone.
The woman shook her head lightly with the enigmatic expression Catty had come to know and slowly went to the house.
Catty watched as Serafima opened the door.
"Luli!" a cry suddenly escaped the girl's throat.
Serafima froze in the doorway, her hand still resting on the frame. The name hung in the air between them like the toll of a distant bell, clear and impossible to ignore.
Catty stepped forward, her voice trembling, "You're Luli, aren't you?"
Serafima didn't respond. She stood motionless, her back to Catty, the tension in her shoulders the only sign she'd heard. Then, slowly, she turned around. Her usually unreadable expression softened into something Catty hadn't seen before—vulnerability.
"I am," the woman said quietly, "but I haven't been Luli in a long time."
"Why didn't you..." Catty's voice cracked, and she struggled to find the right words. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were gone."
"I had to be," Serafima replied. Her gaze was steady despite the sorrow in her eyes. "When you vanished, everything changed. Rutger saved me, gave me a new name, a new life. He believed you'd return, and he wanted me to be ready to help you. To protect you."
"Serafima…" Catty whispered, the name feeling strange now, full of new meaning.
"He thought a new name would help me let go of the past. But I never could—not completely," the woman smiled bitterly.
The silence stretched between them, years spent apart settling over them. Catty's fists clenched at her sides as she fought back tears.
"I didn't forget you," the girl said. Emotions overwhelmed her. "Not for a second."
"I know," Serafima replied softly. "I was always waiting for you."
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Catty rushed forward and wrapped Serafima in a tight embrace. Serafima's hands rested gently on Catty's back.
The embrace was quiet, yet it spoke volumes—of loss, of regret, but also of hope. They were different now, changed by time and circumstance, but the bond they had shared as children remained.
When they finally pulled apart, Catty wiped her eyes quickly, laughing through her tears. "You're still bossy, you know."
"And you're still impulsive," Serafima replied.
They turned together to look at the dragon, who had stretched out on the grass, utterly oblivious to the moment. His tail flicked lazily as he let out a contented snort.
"I guess we have a lot of work to do," Catty said, her voice steadier now.
"We do," Serafima agreed, "but we'll do it together."
Catty nodded, her gaze lingering on Serafima's face. There was still so much she didn't understand, so many questions left unanswered, but she felt sure of one thing for the first time in a long time.
She wasn't alone anymore.
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The stillness of the house covered gently around them, broken only by the creak of the floorboards when Serafima moved toward the kitchen.
"We should eat," Serafima said, glancing over her shoulder. "You'll feel better with something warm."
Catty nodded and stepped inside. She moved toward the stove as Serafima began selecting ingredients from the shelves.
"Let's keep it simple," Serafima said, setting a bundle of carrots, parsnips, some potatoes and turnips, and a jar of lentils on the counter. She glanced out the window, where the dragon was lying in the grass. "It's been a long day."
Catty picked up a knife from the counter. "I'll chop."
They worked side by side in a quiet rhythm. The soft scrape of the knife against the cutting board mingled with the gentle bubbling of water in the pot. Serafima added sprigs of dried herbs to the broth—moonleaves and a pinch of skyroot—stirring as their zesty aroma filled the room.
The stew began to take shape, its warm scent wrapping around them, softening the day's weight.
When the meal was ready, they sat at the table. The windows offered a glimpse of the green meadow, the dragon resting just outside, his wings tucked close to his sides as he dozed. The sight brought Catty a small measure of peace, though her mind still swirled with questions.
For a while, they ate in silence. The food, though simple, was filling, and Catty found herself relaxing in the moment. As she set her bowl down, she glanced at Serafima.
"There's a lot I still don't understand."
"I know," Serafima looked up.
She rose, placing her empty bowl by the sink before turning back to Catty. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but resolute, "Come. Let's sit by the fire. There's something I need to tell you."
Serafima sat across from Catty, her back straight but her hands loosely clasped in her lap. Her expression was composed, but the silence stretched between them like a thread, taut and heavy with unspoken truths. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm.
"You escaped the orphanage," Serafima said, "and I stayed there."
The simplicity of her words struck Catty harder than any accusation could. Images of that night came rushing back: the Widow's angry shouts, the stomp of the guards behind her, the damp chill of the basement. She remembered Eldric's voice, trials of the elements, and her heart pounding as she fled into the city. Catty shifted uncomfortably and sighed.
"Tell me," she said softly. "How did you survive after I left? How did you endure it all?"
Serafima placed her hand on the girl's knee.
"I survived because of your escape! I knew you were safe, and that gave me the strength to live on."
Serafima's words lingered in the air; their sincerity filled Catty's heart with sadness. The girl stared at the fire, her throat tight, unsure how to respond. But Serafima didn't wait for an answer. She sat back, her gaze distant, and began her story.
When Catty escaped the orphanage, the Widow's fury descended on the others like a storm. Luli left alone without her friend, became the lightning rod for that rage. The Widow needed a scapegoat, someone to bear the brunt of her frustrations, and Luli was the perfect target.
The punishments began small—extra chores, fewer meals—but escalated quickly. Luli was forced to scrub floors until her hands bled and spent hours cleaning the freezing courtyard while the others slept. The other children learned to avoid her, their gazes darting away whenever she passed. The Widow had turned her into an example, a reminder of what disobedience could cost.
Luli endured it in silence. She clung to the belief that Catty had found freedom somewhere beyond the orphanage's gray walls, and that thought became her anchor. However, the days turned into weeks, and the isolation grew heavier. Her memories of Catty's laughter, her plans, her determination—they were the only light in an otherwise suffocating darkness.
The turning point came when the Widow summoned Luli to her office late one evening. The woman's smile was cold as she explained her plans. Luli would no longer be a burden to the orphanage. She would be taken to a place where her "obedience" and "usefulness" would be appreciated.
"They said nothing as they took me away—just opened the door of the car and shoved me inside," the woman was telling. "At first, I thought they were sending me to another orphanage. But when I saw the faces of the girls who greeted me, their painted smiles and empty eyes, I understood everything."
"Everything glittered there: the mirrors, the chandeliers, even the dresses they made us wear," Serafima continued, "but it wasn't beautiful. It was gaudy, a mask over something rotten. I could feel it in the air, thick and stifling, wrapping around my throat until I couldn't breathe."
Catty couldn't hold back anymore and cried.
"If I had known… if I had realized what they'd do to you…" she trailed off, her fists clenching in her lap. "I wouldn't leave you in that place."
Serafima's tone was calm, as though recounting something far and unreal.
"We didn't speak much, the other girls and I. We weren't friends. Maybe it was easier that way. We weren't allowed to keep anything—not even ourselves. At night, I would close my eyes and remember you. I'd picture your laugh, the way you always found a way to make things better, even when we had nothing. I told myself you were out there, somewhere, free. And that was enough to keep me going. If I let go of you, I would disappear, and they'd win. So I held on, even when it hurt—holding on was all I had left."
Catty's hand reached out, hesitating before brushing against Serafima's arm. "You didn't deserve any of it," she whispered. "You were punished for what I did. I... I'm so sorry."
For a long moment, Serafima said nothing. The fire crackled softly between them before she spoke again.
"I was no longer a person. I was a thing to be sold, but I couldn't let them break me," the woman continued her story.
One day, a very important person was supposed to visit the brothel. They didn't bother speaking to Luli as they prepared her for the client. She didn't struggle anymore—it never made a difference. They stripped the girl naked, and her wrists were bound with metal cuffs. The ball gag was put in her mouth, muffling even the smallest sound Luli could make.
Finished, they left her in the room, lit by a single flickering lamp. The air was heavy and hot. Luli sat on the edge of the bed, the chain from her handcuffs rattling softly against the frame. Her mind was blank, numbed by the hopelessness.
Then the door opened, and a man entered. He wore a golden mask that covered his face entirely. The guards who escorted him bowed before shutting the door behind him. Luli stared at him, her heart pounding, though she didn't know if it was fear or something else. The man stood still for a moment, looking at her, then moved closer.
He crouched down, his face level with hers, and removed the mask. She froze, unsure of what to expect, until she saw his face—not familiar, but inspired reliance.
"I'm here to help you," he said quietly. His voice was calm, steady. "I know Catty. I'm her friend. Rutger."
Her breath caught, but she couldn't reply with the gag still in place. He reached forward, gently removing it, and she gasped.
"Stay quiet," he said. "We don't have much time."
Luli nodded, still unable to speak. He reached for her cuffs, muttering a spell that cut the air around them. The metal fell away, clattering onto the floor.
As soon as the handcuffs hit the floor, Rutger took off his cloak and threw it over the girl's shoulders. His voice filled the room with low, rhythmic incantations, the words vibrating through the air. Luli watched as the walls groaned as if waking from a long slumber. Shadows stretched unnaturally, and the flickering lamp on the table dimmed, its light bending toward the man at the center of the room. The air swirled around them into a rising vortex. Loose papers scattered, the chain on the bedframe rattled violently, and the wind howled as though alive. Luli clutched the cloak tightly around herself when the room space transformed into a whirling energy.
Rutger stood unwavering, a fire ball rotating between his palms, and the winds obeyed his will. The walls cracked first, thin lines spidering across their surfaces before shattering outward with an earsplitting roar. Chunks of plaster and wood blasted into the hallway, forcing the guards outside to stumble back in alarm.
"What is this?!" one of them shouted, his voice barely audible over the din. The guards hesitated only a moment longer before panic overtook them. The hurricane carried the debris in a spiral, snapping the supports like twigs. The room groaned one last time before the entire wall facing the street crumbled, revealing the darkened night beyond.
Rutger turned to Luli, his voice calm, "Come."
She nodded, her legs trembling as she stepped carefully over the broken wall. The storm parted as they moved, creating a clear path through the debris. Beyond the ruins, the cool night air rushed to meet them, carrying freedom.
As they crossed into the open street, Rutger turned and gestured once. The winds quieted in an instant, and only desperate cries broke the ensuing silence. The building stood broken and lifeless, its walls gaping open like empty eye sockets in a skull.
"I remember what Rutger said then," Serafima smiled, "he said, 'There is life in the old dog yet.'"
Later, he explained everything. After Catty went into the dark world, he had to trace the faint thread of information about her orphanage friend, a girl named Luli. Rutger had followed Catty's path as far as he could and stumbled upon a tangled web that eventually led to the secret brothel. Luli wasn't the first child to vanish from the orphanage, and Rutger's search for her carried a deeper purpose for him. He knew the current Dragon Sect Master was involved, so Rutger assumed his identity to infiltrate the brothel.
"When we left that place," Serafima said, her gaze fixed on Catty, "Rutger told me I couldn't stay Luli. It wasn't safe. He gave me a new name: Serafima." Her voice was steady, but a shadow passed over her expression.
"At first, I hated it," she continued. "It felt like he was erasing me, like the last piece of who I was would be gone forever. But he was right. Luli couldn't exist anymore. I had to become someone else to survive."
Serafima paused, her hands resting lightly in her lap. Catty oversaw her, saying nothing as Serafima spoke.
"Rutger didn't waste time and started preparing me. He said I had a purpose, and one day, I'd stand beside you and the dragon. I didn't understand back then, and honestly, I didn't want to. I thought I was just trading one prison for another." Her lips curved faintly, a bitter smile. "Rutger wasn't cruel. He was relentless, yes—but not cruel."
Her voice softened slightly, "Every day was training—magic, survival, combat. And discipline, always discipline. I hated him for how hard he pushed me. There were times I thought I couldn't go on. But he never let me fall too far and always pulled me back."
Serafima sighed, the firelight casting long shadows across the room.
"I carried a lot of anger back then. Anger at Rutger for saving me, anger at you for leaving me behind. I thought if you'd stayed, none of it would've happened."
The woman glanced at Catty, her gaze softer now. "The truth is, you gave me something to hold onto. The thought of you out there, alive and free—it kept me going."
"By the time Rutger died, I understood what he'd done," Serafima continued. "He helped me become someone new. Luli was a girl who couldn't protect herself. Serafima is someone who can protect you, the Child of Dragons!"