SAVE POINT 21

Loading Rosabella's Viewpoint...Forest Level...100%

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Rosabella

"I don't think you understand," Callen's terse voice wakes me, although he's clearly talking to someone a few steps away, "He's gone! Who tied him up?!"

His voice is raised and frantic; he does not sound happy.

I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and roll over on the hard ground, though I can't wipe the crick out of my back from sleeping in this blanket; I feel every rock and bump under my spine through it... Wouldn't a magical place like this figure out a way to make magical beds for all this camping they do?

"It was me," I hear Dormouse's shaking shout, "I tied up Goran—"

"Well, he's gone now," Callen huffs, throwing down his hands in clear disgust.

And I feel the color drain out of my face as I realize what they're talking about. The forest blurs around everyone's tense faces—Callen, Joy and Dormouse arguing in a circle and Rainer just propping himself up from sleep on the ground.

Goran escaped?

Goran's...free?

I swallow.

How long will it be till he tries to find me? ...Tries to take me back again? Puts me in some kind of bunker I can't get out of this time?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shut out the terror suddenly running through my veins.

I shouldn't be scared. I'm safe with the Game Wardens. I'm going to help them fix their world. If I repeat it to myself, it slows my heartbeat and shaking breaths a little.

"At least we have the girl," Joy lets out a sarcastic chuckle, gesturing to me.

"But how much damage will Goran continue to do to The Game even if we work with Rosabella to repair it?" Rainer grumbles, shifting to his feet. His face is grumpy and beet red—maybe from all the alcohol he drank last night. He swipes a massive hand across his forehead, spitting into the grass.

"What do we do?" I ask all of them, getting to my feet myself.

My head shifts and my vision of the woods around us swims after an unrestful night. The bright light of the sunrise feels like a million swords stabbing at my pupils. I step to the side to avoid it, shading my face and trying to read the grim expression of the group against the backdrop of the trees.

"Well, we go back to Somergot prison for the dragon as a start," Callen replies, tight-lipped, "You ready, kid?"

I notice today that it's less of a question as the gray-haired man turns and begins swiftly into the woods. He's clearly not in the mood to hear otherwise.

I grab up camp supplies, helping Rainer shove them in his pack.

And we all trot after him.

"...so, Callen's pissed," I start after what seems like over half an hour of walking in awkward silence.

From at my shoulder, Dormouse's face collapses in a mortified wince, "At me. It was my fault." His chin quivers on the last, whispered part.

Rainer shoots the boy a narrow-eyed stare, "I taught you to tie people up, what went wrong?" He barks the question, but his voice isn't accusatory...it's more 'trying-to-understand'.

"He was—staring at me," Dormouse shivers, shaking his arms out even in the balmy weather, "It was unnerving—"

"Oh, boo hoo," Joy pushes between all of us, advancing to the marching front behind Callen. "Go cry to someone else," she snaps, "Not like this blunder is going to kill any of you or anything."

I swallow, seeing the black tendrils of flesh that now crawl up her neck and into her hairline where she's swept her pink-fire hair up into a high ponytail. ...She's talking about how she's turning Darken. I really can't blame the girl for being bitter.

"It's okay," I whisper to Dormouse instead, hoping to calm his embarrassment, "I'm going to fix this."

We crest over a hill I remember, opening to a meadow of the greenest grass I've ever seen. ...And Somergot Prison stretches upward behind glistening, moat waters.

I grab at the hilt of my mother's sword on my belt.

And my throat constricts.

Because it's time to try this my way, and I'm honestly not sure it's going to be enough.

...That I'm going to be enough.

"Remember," Rainer lectures, his eyes wide and kind, "Jab your weapon up like this in the underbelly and tear the flesh straight down by thrusting out away from you—"

I hold up a hand to stop him, making a face at his grotesque description, "Rainer, I'm not going to kill it."

His mouth closes up.

His eyes blink frantically.

Blankly.

"She's not—" he turns towards Callen in protest, "She's not going to kill it?" He looks completely lost. "—But how's she going to get the magic?"

Joy claps a threatening hand down on my shoulder. Her eyes are burning flames ringed in thick eyeliner as her straight ponytail flutters in the wind behind her head, "Don't you dare fuck this up. I'll die, you know."

I know.

My throat is bad-cornbread dry. My breath catches in my throat as I struggle to choke words out, "I won't let you down, Joy."

I expect the girl to say something nasty—some type of throw-it-back-in-your-face comeback.

But she's silent.

And she nods, her hooded eyes narrowing.

Like we have an understanding.

And, somehow, that understanding fuels me—gives me the edge I need to take this deep dive.

I step away from her, and she lets her hand fall back to her side.

And I begin my march towards certain death—err, Somergot prison and the dragon.

The stone building rises like a rearing mythical creature in the distance with every boot fall on the lush grass. The mammoth, square walls tower overhead as I take rapid, shallow breaths.

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I can do this.

I can absolutely do this.

But my heart flutters in my chest like a base drum which won't release me from its thundering beat—from the thundering doubt.

Will I be able to pull this off?

Am I the girl that can pull this off?

They're counting on me.

As I approach, the familiar stone archway looms overhead, guarded by two rabid gargoyle statues. I clear my throat and open my mouth to—

> Welcome back girl who tried to kill me.

The red dragon's voice invades my head, nearly shaking my bones with its utter distain.

And a gate scrapes open before me without any of my own intent. My stomach lurches.

I'm going to puke—

I'm going to be sick right here—

I draw the full length of mom's sword with a metal clatter.

I raise it before me like a protective barrier between me and this sordid beast.

And I will my trembling limbs forward.

With the sword outstretched.

Into the cold shadow of the stone hallway. The dampness of the place instantly assails my nose, bringing back a memory of when I'd first entered this hall. I know six steps will bring me into the main hall with the dragon—

I cross the threshold.

Into the giant room with the arching, stone ceilings to find the beast—

...Wedged in a corner?

The dragon is rolled onto his stomach, low to the concrete floor. The weight of his huge head mushes into his crossed claws.

His tail is curled around his enormous haunches.

His red nostrils and ears, sagging.

He looks...

"I don't want to kill you," I announce grandly, raising my sword higher.

The dragon just blinks at me, unmoving.

He looks...sad. ...Dejected???

> To be honest, it's a little early for this bullshit.

He states bluntly in my mind.

> ...And put down the blessed sword. I've already suffered a fate worse than death.

Worse than death?

The sword in my grasp wavers a little.

"What's..." I sputter, then, completely forgetting who I'm speaking to, I blurt, "What's your deal?"

> What's MY DEAL?!

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. The dragon's voice in my head flutters into fury. He tosses his enormous head, scratching dangerous talons against the cement with the sound of a hundred knife blades.

> ...What's my...oh, you humans get under my skin! You want to know a fate worse than death? One prisoner—one bloody traitor!—stole EVERYTHING from me. My status! My street cred. I'm basically on a performance plan here now. ONE ASSHOLE lets all the prisoners go, and I can only fry about half of them till they made it to the moat... Now, you come waltzing in here like the Queen of Sheba, toting a sword when your baby fingers can barely even hold it—

One asshole.

My brain cranks at a million miles a minute, remembering...

Fire.

Smoke.

Goran carrying me.

One asshole?

I bet I know which one.

"Goran?" I ask boldly—where is all this confidence coming from?—"Did a prisoner named Goran set all the prisoners free?"

It's more of a statement than a question.

The dragon's eyes light up.

> YES!

He roars.

> Yes, one stupid, human man—

"I can help you get revenge on him," I state.

Before I know that the words are leaking out of my mouth.

Before I have a concrete plan.

But the dragon is hooked already. His body language has changed from lethargic to very-interested in a split second—like someone took an electric charge to him. He slithers forward, his huge head only inches from me.

> Tell me how.

He states. No snarkiness this time. No joke.

Just greed in his voice.

Vengeance.

It makes my blood run cold.

I draw in a deep breath, trying to quickly concoct an answer, but it turns out I already have one. It speeds off my tongue with a quickness that I'm nearly frightened of myself. "Goran killed my parents. He decimated your career here. I'm going to find him," I start, my voice holding more conviction than I would have thought possible (especially when I realize it's probably Goran who is going to find me, not the other way around), "When I find him, I'll bring him to you, and you can help me decide what happens to him, but I need something first."

I watch the dragon's eyes. He's observing me carefully—barely breathing he's so still.

"I'm trying to repair The Game," I tell him, "Goran messed that up to. The darkness is spreading, killing everything in its path. I need your magic and the magic of another dragon over the hill to be able to fix the darkness eating your world. You give me your creator magic, and I will give you Goran."

The words feel powerful coming off my tongue.

I'm a little in shock of my own speech.

The dragon seems to chew on my words for a moment.

But he snorts, black smoke blowing directly into my face before I can swipe it away. I cough—

> Counteroffer.

He says shortly.

> I give you the magic you need, and you let me KILL Goran.

Kill Goran?

My heart twists.

My stomach jars.

KILL him?

I wasn't going to take it that far. I'm not comfortable with taking it that far.

> Listen, I'll sweeten the deal, peach.

The dragon adds.

> I'll go with you to negotiate with the other dragon. Dragons get other dragons. I can help you get their magic too. If you let me kill the traitor.

His voice is sinister.

He must see me wince, because the creature's face contorts.

> Oh, you have some attachment to this monster, Goran? ...Why are you protecting him?

His words might as well have been a spear to my gut. I fall backwards a little at them, my nails digging impressions into my palms where I clench them.

Why am I protecting Goran?

...Because he's always protected me?

Because I really thought he was my Dad for all those years? Thought he knew better...

My face hardens.

No.

He has to pay for his crimes. He killed my parents! I can't turn a blind eye to this. I'm angry at him. I'm enraged! ...So, why won't I make the decision that has to be made?

"Okay," I say tartly.

But I barely have the breath to get the word out. My heartbeat stirs in my chest, jumping like the nerves in my fingertips.

"Do we have a deal?" I ask the beast, holding out a hand like he's capable of cementing things with a handshake.

The dragon squints at me.

I watch him think.

> Hold on a second.

Before I realize what's happening, thick fog swirls around my extended hand.

Red fog?

I squint into the sparkling haze, trying to clear it by fanning my hand—

"Hey!" I call.

It's too thick to see through—

"What are you—"

But I freeze.

Because there's no longer red scales of a huge reptile before me. There's a dark-skinned man....a warrior. With chiseled muscles showing through a cut off t-shirt and hair pulled up into the weave of a thick braid trailing down his shoulder.

"I never like to do agreements in dragon form," the man says, flashing white teeth that glint alongside the gold chain at his neck, "It seems a little...intimidating for other people, you know? I don't think everyone can handle the fire and the greatness. I'm a lot to take in—I'm sure you know how it is..."

But I don't.

I just gape at him.

What the fuck is going on???