“Master Bartholomew,” Miri said, out of breath from rushing to the library. Bartholomew looked up from his books. She didn’t knock like she usually did, and her tone was more a yell than a call.

“The baby is missing!”

Bartholomew didn’t get up from his chair.

“And in her room— in her room, there’s a…”

Miri faltered, her words failing her. Dragons were nearly the thing of dreams. When they appeared, they did not fly into cities or castles. They kept to their mountain cliffs, their dreary caves, and their accumulated treasures.

“I think it’s a dragon,” she breathed. “A dragon, and the baby’s not there.”

Bartholomew shot out of his seat faster than she thought was possible for a man of his age. He blew past her and headed for the baby’s room. He was not expecting the spell to show itself so quickly. The child was not yet old enough to walk.

He gave up on his quest to walk to her room, and instead teleported himself to the corridor outside her door. The magic was getting harder to use as he aged, but it was still easier than the constraints of his aging body. The room door was open, and he smelled the remnants of ash and smoke. Inside, in a pile of cinders, the small dragon was curled into a ball and sleeping.

On hearing his footsteps, she opened her eyes and Bartholomew smiled. His spell had worked, and worked well beyond his expectation. The dragon closed her eyes again, seeing that he was not a threat.

Miri caught up to him.

“She’ll be back to normal in the morning, most likely,” Bartholomew said. It was a cold night, and perhaps that was what had triggered the spell. Perhaps it was just time for it to happen. Bartholomew sighed. He could have used more time to prepare himself and the girl for what was to come.

“What are you talking about?” Miri asked.

“The baby,” he said, pointing to the dragon. “She will be back to her human body after a while. I’ll stay here for the night to watch over her.”

It was more to watch her, than to watch over her. Dragons were an easy cause of death, no matter their age or size. Even at her size, she could turn a human being to soot in seconds. She could burn the whole castle down, if she had no resistance. But for now, she was sleeping, just like any other infant creature. She made mewling noises from time to time, no doubt dreaming.

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He wondered if she was more child or dragonling. So far her behavior had been nothing out of the ordinary. She babbled and gurgled like all other children. Granted, Miri told him she was less fussy than other babes, and that she had taken to normal food earlier than other babes did. But that was all nothing magical. The girl, even in the absence of the spell, may have behaved exactly the same. Her mother had looked ordinary, but most ordinary babies could not bear the weight of a spell so enormous, so terrible. He wished he had managed to keep the woman alive somehow, or at least in suspended animation.

They had searched for her identity for weeks after. She had been a ghost, even before her death. No one had seen anyone like her. No families had missing women who were pregnant, and none recognized the painting of her face. Miri had forced him to commission it, a simple thing done quickly, half from the artist’s imagination. It rendered the woman sitting on a chair in a garden, non-pregnant and alive. It was a standard portrait, of a woman who looked average by every respect, but Miri insisted on it.

“The child deserves to know what her mother looked like,” she had said. The portrait hung in the child’s room. Thankfully, it had not been damaged by her little outburst. Bartholomew noted to himself to have it moved to his study. It would be safer there.

The room warmed as the sun rose, and the dragonling wrapped her wings around herself. As the sun’s rays touched the stones of the room’s floor, a light blue fire enveloped the dragon. It burned white, blinding his vision, and faded away to reveal the baby.

She was human, dressed in the floral nightgowns Miri paraded her around in. She was also hungry and confused, and started bawling as soon as she opened her eyes. Miri rushed in and picked up the baby, checking the child for any sign of injury.

“Is she alright? What happened to her?” she asked.

“The spell worked,” Bartholomew said. “We will need to be careful with her from now on.”

“What do you mean the spell worked? What have you done?!”

Miri feared for Bartholomew. The king hated dragons. Bartholomew was given more freedom and power than most of the king’s subjects and courtiers, but even he had to know the limits of the king’s patience. He would not allow for such a beast to exist within the city walls.

“Does King Garth know of this?” she asked.

“He does not need to,” Bartholomew said. The king lacked ambition. He had won his wars and claimed new lands, and then settled into middle-age with a desire for nothing. He only wanted to maintain what he already had, not understanding that time and circumstances changed. Their enemies grew powerful, and King Garth only grew… indolent.

“As long as we keep the girl restricted to my wing of the castle until she can contain her powers, everything will be fine. Make arrangements to move her things to the south wing.”

Miri picked up the baby. “You still have not answered my question of what you have done to her.”

“I turned her into a weapon for this kingdom’s future,” Bartholomew stated.

“No, Master Bartholomew. You have turned this poor baby into a monster. You have made her into something more terrible than yourself.”