During the third year we learned a lot of things that had nothing to do with dragons. We were taught to speak Common and even to write it. We practiced night and day and were forced to speak in the foreign language among ourselves and in our free time. We were taught orography, astronomy, mathematics, wind theory, herbology, basic alchemy, economics, history, geography and many other things I would never have thought to learn someday. My mind was avidly nourished by this new knowledge, although there was always a little bit of a niggle: the more I learned, the more ignorant I felt.

On the physical side, my arms had gained in volume. We paddled the highest rivers on the continent every day at the earliest hours of the morning, before dawn. The hard workouts were certainly working wonders. I had grown considerably stronger; I was no longer skinny. And I had also had a growth spurt. I wasn’t the only one.

The most radical change was brought about by Din Bin, who went from being a chubby, whiny kid who never finished any training to a warrior with abs as hard as mountains. He was the best at fencing, even though the two batons we used weighed twice as much as the conventional batons. On the other hand, the training did not correct his whining, but rather the opposite.

Like the first and second years, the third year was very hard. Difficult times abounded, but we had been through too much to give up in the middle of the road. We thought nothing could make us give up anymore, but the case of Tol Doi, who had to return to his village after breaking half his body in an avalanche, left us frozen and shattered. We always supported each other. First the seven of us, and after Tol Doi’s departure, the six of us who remained. We had become thick as thieves.

Of course, there were frictions too, especially since affairs of the heart intruded on our group relationship. I remember that time at the lake.

Occasionally, after weeks of hard work, we would have whole days to do whatever we wanted. Sometimes we would use it to clean or add some comfort to our section of Star Cave. Other times, we would go to Yan Tzu Glacier. But my favorite place was always Tin Si Dan Lake.

That day we had left early in the morning to get to the lake when the sun was at its peak and we would freeze dry as we emerged from the water. I liked Tin Si Dan because it was so clear, so crystalline and because of its peculiar concave crescent moon shape. It was surrounded by green pines and fir trees from whose branches the goldfinches shamelessly composed melodies. In the background, where the bare rock cut through the dense expanse of trees, a tall waterfall divided into three thin curtains that fell with a light and continuous murmur. It was a haven of peace. And an ideal place to be with the girl you love.

Unfortunately, there were six of us and, as usual, I didn’t dare to take the plunge. Dal Mah was a smiling, graceful, outgoing girl. Her eyes were the same color as the waters of the lake, her eyebrows were fine and well lined, her teeth were white and in place, and they showed when I made her laugh. How I enjoyed eliciting those smiles from her! That day she had hidden her ears, for she had let down her jet-black hair, which she usually wore in a ponytail. However she wore it, she always looked beautiful. That day I saw her wrapped in an aura that shone brighter than the sun. And, as fate would have it, I was sitting next to her.

“I’m about to quit,” she said suddenly, looking at our diaphanous reflections and creating ripples in the water with her bare feet.

Those words hit me like an avalanche. A thousand jugs of cold water froze my veins. Quit? After all the effort we had put in to get there?

“How? You can’t! We’re more than halfway there! How can you quit now?” I exclaimed, between surprised and annoyed.

If she had spoken in a whisper that had gone unnoticed by the others, my panic attack had caused her to raise her voice and everyone to turn to us.

“Quit? who’s going to quit?” asked Bong Nam.

Dal Mah looked at me with dull eyes and I read the disappointment on her face. I understood that it was something she wanted to talk about in private, maybe only with me, and I had messed it up. It wasn’t the first time I had done something like that. I cursed my clumsiness a hundred times. I was never skilled in the art of communication, especially when the interlocutor was of the other sex.

“I’m just mulling it over,” she mumbled. “I guess... I’m not like you guys.”

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“What do you mean?” Tui Lam hurried to stand next to her friend, “You’re just as good as us, even better! Not in theory classes, of course, but in physics you always finish before me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Dal Mah smiled. “It’s just... I don’t think I’m worthy of a dragon. I don’t think...”

“Of course you’re worthy! How can you not be worthy?” I became angry.

I couldn’t stand to be belittled. To me, Dal Mah was a perfect girl who had no flaws.

“An Long, let her talk,” Bong Nam ordered me seriously, and I shut my mouth for a while.

“I just don’t think my heart is... as pure as yours.”

“What do you mean? But why?” I was going crazy, I didn’t understand anything.

“Well, you had a terrible childhood, An Long. And yet you never spoke with hatred of the Darenis who razed your village to the ground. You never wanted revenge. Not even of the children who laughed at you or those who called you names by reminding you of the accident. Bong Nam has had an equally difficult life, being the youngest of the family, disowned by his parents for not wanting to devote himself to the family business like his brothers, making explosive powder. He was thrown out of the house, lived on the street for years when he could have lived in the most comfortable of comforts. And all for what? Principle. Ethics. And he didn’t learn that from his parents, no, it was in his heart. That’s why they chose him. Tui Lam, you are the smartest of us all. You have the gift of intelligence. That’s why you knew it wasn’t worth fighting, that’s why you mediated all the disputes in your village, ever since you were a child. Since you were appointed mediator, your village has known no other settling of scores. You put an end to violence, Tui Lam, you brought peace to your village. And you, Din Bin, you are always complaining, but I admire you. In the end, you always do things because, in spite of everything, you know it’s the right thing to do. On the other hand, when you think you are ordered to do something unjust, you don’t complain, you don’t raise your voice, you just fight it.”

“You’re like that too, Dal Mah!” I let myself be carried away by anxiety and fear. “You don’t want war with the Darenis either. You too would not make explosive powder. You have also mediated in our disputes, remember when Bong Nam and I were fighting over the last piece of elk cake?”

That got several laughs from all around me, although I didn’t mean to make a joke, but to argue against her purpose. She was saying that she wasn’t worthy of a dragon, that she didn’t have a pure heart, and ultimately, that if she went through with it, she would die in the Apprentice Well. But that last part, I didn’t see. That possibility simply had no place in my mind.

“An Long, you are wrong. It is true that I do not wish for war, very few do. Nor would I manufacture weapons of that scope and intent. From time to time, we all mediate in some dispute, even among the most bloodthirsty of bandits there are mediators. What I mean is, there is no room in your heart for such vengeful feelings.”

“Nor in yours!” I said, exalted, getting up to get away from there.

“You’re wrong, An Long,” she repeated, “Sometimes I dream of revenge. I can’t control it. I try to suppress it. Hide that feeling deep inside me. But it won’t work with the dragon. The dragon will see it. They told us in first year: the dragon’s power will never be used for revenge.”

“Dal Mah, do you really want to quit now, after all we have sacrificed?” Tui Lam asked.

“No... I don’t know...”

For a while now, she was holding back tears at the corners of her eyes, for they were shining brighter than ever. Her voice grain was weak and she spoke with a lump in her throat. I knew that searing sensation of weeping that breaks through from the gut and you try to hold it back. It had been a daily sensation during my childhood, but I had almost forgotten it.

I didn’t want to see her like this. The last thing I wanted was to see Dal Mah suffering like that. The only thing I wanted was to hug her and comfort her. But I didn’t. Tui Lam did. Din Bin did. Bahn Mi also came over to pat her on the shoulder. Even Bong Nam whispered something in her ear. But I did nothing. I just stood there, selfish me, not knowing what to do. Until the words came out of my gut and sounded parched.

“This is your home. We are your family. Are you really going to abandon us?”

I surprised myself. I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. There was sadness, which I knew all too well. There was helplessness, that which I had already felt when I could do nothing to save my sick mother. There was fear, fear of losing a loved one, once again. But there were more things. Things I didn’t understand. Something burning inside me, wanting to come out but not knowing how to do it.

Everyone stared at me dumbfounded, as if they didn’t believe I had said that. I felt the reproach of my people digging into my skin like a thousand needles. Bong Nam came toward me. I was still in shock from the whirlwind of emotions that churned my guts. I barely felt the punch. Maybe because I deserved it, maybe because the emotions I was feeling hurt more.

I wasn’t mad at Bong Nam for hitting me, instead, everyone was mad at me. Why were you such an idiot, they were telling me. I wondered the same thing myself. In difficult times, when the support of friends was most important, I had not been there with her. With Dal Mah. Maybe because, deep down, I didn’t want to be her friend.

I had distanced myself. I had reproached her for even considering giving up. Because giving up meant giving up the life we were leading. Our new life. My new world. That world in which I finally felt at home. The world that, without Dal Mah, was threatening to shatter.