The friends did not argue. Soon, as a confirmation of their expectations, one of the rocktopuses contacted Tush. Not even Tush, but Tina. She caught the faint echoes of questions coming from underground. The rocktopus was asking,

“Do you know where Arian’s friends are now?”

Tina did not know who Arian was, because he was introduced to her as Oris. She addressed this question to Tush, who was busy trying to stick a dry blade of grass into the nose of the sleeping Tarnis. The little rascal first waved his paw at his friend and then thought about it. So the rocktopuses determined where I should be taken. And so we met. The cave from the Dragon’s Lair was about five miles away, and in open terrain, it could be covered in about two hours.

“We’ve told you everything about ourselves. Now you tell us. How did you escape? Will Vulgaris not rush after you?

We sat around the fire, and I felt the hunger that had accumulated during the long journey creep into my thoughts. Fortunately, my friends had a pot of stew and mushrooms fried on twigs. This food they had prepared, although under-salted and cooked, seemed to me tastier than any other dish I had ever tasted. It was imbued with the warmth and care that I so lacked.

I ate and told them about the sentence the dragon had passed on to me and how that sentence was carried out. The words came hard, but my friends deserved to know the truth. Hearing that Laverna had swallowed me, Tina sighed and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes widened in horror, and the picture of my execution excited the small furry creature so much that she could not hold back the tears that were welling up. Tarnis frowned, his face becoming gloomy as if he was imagining the scene in real life. Only Touche, as if not understanding the seriousness of the situation, was amused.

“Why are you so sad? He’s alive, sitting next to us!” Touche tried to defuse the situation, but his words sounded out of place in this oppressive silence.

“How did you survive?” Tarnis asked, and his voice trembled. “Or did Laverne cannot swallow you?”

I hesitated, trying to find the words. How could I explain to them something I didn’t understand? My friends were dear to me, and I was afraid that the truth might scare them off. But I couldn’t hide it either. I had to tell them I had somehow ended up in a dragon’s egg.

“She swallowed me,” I began, feeling anxiety tightening in my throat. — “But instead of destroying, I... I was reborn. Inside a dragon’s egg.”

My words hung in the air like heavy raindrops, ready to scatter. The silence became almost tangible, and I noticed how Tarnis clenched his fists, and Tina pressed her hand to her lips again, as if afraid of what I would say next.

“Now,” I took a deep breath, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice, “I have dragon blood. And perhaps I have some of their abilities.”

Tarnis and Tina exchanged worried glances, and I felt their fear become my own. How would they take this? Would they fear me? I wanted so much for them to understand that despite all the changes, I was still the same one who sat with them around that fire, the same friend who was ready to give everything for them.

“But I’m still me,” I added, trying to smile, though it came out hesitantly. “I’m the same one who’s always been there for you.”

I looked into their eyes, hoping to see understanding and acceptance there. Time seemed to slow down, and every gesture, every word they said could change what was between us.

“Where are your scales, tail, and wings?” Tush asked carelessly. It seemed the little creature didn’t take my words seriously.

“I don’t have them, and I get along just fine because I didn’t become a dragon. But that’s not all I wanted to tell you. After I was reborn, I attacked Vulgaris and beat him up badly. I succeeded. Then we sat down to dinner and I fed the dragon so much that he died of indigestion.”

“Are you kidding?” Tush muttered. “Dragons are immortal.”

“Everyone is mortal,” Tarnis said thoughtfully. - “No one has ever attempted such a thing before. They tried to poison dragons, but they could not detect the presence of poison in any dish. And you fed him regular food, so he didn’t notice the trick. And what about Laverna?”

We still didn’t know that the old dragoness was doomed. So I said with confidence,

“She poses no threat to anyone. The old dragoness is motionless, toothless, and poorly perceives current events. After Vulgaris’s death, many servants who lived in the Lair hastened to escape from the hated house. She will have to be bored for a while. I have no answers to many questions.

“I think it’s time for us to go,” I said, feeling the prolonged wait begin to weigh on us all.

There were no objections. Everyone understood that there was no time to waste. The events in the Lair had happened quickly in my mind as if they had happened in a day, but for my friends, this period had stretched out over a long month. I had not timed the rebirth, but Laverna could not swallow me in one day and immediately give birth to me again. If an ordinary chicken needs a day to reproduce an egg, then the old dragoness needs much more time.

Centaur Yurion was impatiently waiting for us to finish our preparations. He behaved as if he befits a true friend — calmly and even with notes of joy as if anticipating the beginning of a new stage of our journey. The brothers, who had been in one body for many months, were tired of such an existence and longed for a speedy separation.

Our preparations did not take much time. We understood that every minute counted. Jurion waited patiently while we harnessed him to the cart, showing no sign of worry despite the inconveniences that lay ahead. Tarnis pointed us in the direction, somehow determining a path that would allow us to bypass the Dragon Lair. This route would lead us to the village where the blacksmith Maleus lived, the only one who could help us with our task.

For some time, we moved towards the village along the same road along which I had been brought to the Lair. The area seemed unfamiliar to me. Blooming trees, fields, and meadows covered with spring greenery pleased the eye and lifted my spirits. Looking at this beautiful picture, I thought about the fact that the human essence is an eternal search for meaning, which we often cannot understand or even grasp. We live believing that happiness is something concrete, that it can be achieved if we follow a certain path or fulfill certain conditions. But life shows that happiness is not a permanent state, but a fleeting feeling that comes and goes like the wind. We can rejoice in some small thing — a ray of sunshine, a child’s laughter, or the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. These small moments bring us joy, although their significance seems insignificant against the background of great achievements. But it is in these small things that we find glimpses of true happiness. They remind us that life consists not only of big events but also of tiny moments that, like pieces of a mosaic, fit together to form the picture of our existence.

But we also often get upset, even when there is no apparent reason for this. Our mind, overflowing with thoughts and worries, can itself create anxiety where there is none. We look for reasons for sadness, even if there are none on the surface because such is our nature — to think, to doubt, to search. The human mind is complex and full of contradictions: it can enjoy joy without a reason, but it can also plunge into sadness without a reason.

The meaning of happiness, perhaps, lies not in its search, but in accepting that it is always temporary, always fleeting. Happiness is not an end goal, but a state of mind that comes when we learn to see beauty in simple things, in the mundane, in the imperfections of life. And this understanding has its special wisdom: to accept that happiness is not something that can be held on to, but something that you need to be able to notice, appreciate, and let go of. Right now I am surrounded by my friends: a centaur, two little fluffies, and a man named Tarnis. Isn’t this a reason to be happy? I managed to get out of the lair alive and well. So why not rejoice? But my subconscious immediately gave me the image of Ulia, waiting for me in the forest village. The Forest Nymph Dionela, is imprisoned by dragons. And immediately the good mood changed to a thoughtful one. I found a way to deal with Vulgaris. His nephews remained — Cryonax and Pironax. I didn’t know what abilities they had, although judging by their names, Cryonax should freeze, and his older brother, on the contrary, should burn with fire. Unlike my uncle, these two are unlikely to sit down with me voluntarily to dinner. I still need weapons.

Centaur Yurion pulled the cart with ease. It seemed that easy, relaxed running was his element, that he could run endlessly. The cart rocked slightly, causing its passengers to fall into an uncontrollable sleep…

I woke up from the fact that the cart stopped abruptly. Tarnis, losing his balance, hit his head hard on my leg.

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“Yurion, could you be more careful? Not so hard!” — my fellow traveler was indignant, rubbing the bruise. But the centaur did not pay attention to his complaints. Instead of answering, he peered intently into the sky.

While I was rubbing my eyes, trying to figure out what was happening, little Tina noticed two dragons in the evening sky. They were either participating in a cruel game that only they understood, or they were desperately fighting among themselves. Their movements were quick and sharp like lightning crossing the sky. Their huge wings cut the air with such force that it seemed as if the wind itself was beginning to rush about in panic.

But there was something surprisingly graceful in these chaotic maneuvers. The tips of their wings barely touched, as if they were preparing to rush into each other's arms. Their necks gracefully twisted, showing the world the tenderness and sensuality hidden behind their formidable appearance. It seemed that another moment - and they would freeze, merging in a single impulse. Their powerful paws, ready to tear everything in their path, now seemed more intended to embrace and hold their partner.

The battle of these creatures could easily be mistaken for a love game of two huge birds dancing in the sky against the backdrop of the fading day. In each attack and each maneuver, despite the cruelty, one could feel a silent passion, mysterious and deep, like the sky itself in which they soared.

Sometimes, in the tangle of fascinating flying creatures, clots of fire appeared and then the air was filled with an animal cry of despair and pain. I looked around. We stopped near a forest plantation in which there were about twenty small trees.

“Yurion, let’s go to those trees!”

The centaur did not have to repeat twice. In a minute we were standing in the thickest thicket, but even that was not enough to hide from the keen eye of the dragon soaring in the sky.

“Hide us!” - I addressed the trees, not knowing whether they would understand my request. After the rebirth, I was learning Orkvalia anew, recalling those magic spells that I had invented and tested from the moment of arrival to the execution in the Lair. The trees heard me and soon we were in a thick tent of branches.

One dragon was descending to the ground, almost falling. To somehow stay in the air, he sometimes flapped his huge wings, but these weak attempts did not save the creature from a rapid fall.

“Minus one!” - I summed up the sky battle. “It would be great to see how after some time the second one would fall to the ground.”

To our chagrin, the second dragon did not fall. He flew over us, powerful and fierce, not noticing the one he was looking for.

We stayed for the night in the shelter provided by the trees. Tush and Tina snacked on the remains of mushrooms, sharing their dinner with the centaur. I refused to eat. The battle I had seen shocked me. Tarnis wanted to make a small fire, but after receiving several sensitive blows to the head with green branches, he abandoned his idea.

I sat and thought about the fact that confrontation is inherent not only to people. In each of us, as in these ancient creatures, there lives a certain force that motivates us to fight - sometimes for survival, sometimes for supremacy, and sometimes because such is our nature. We, like dragons, strive to prove our right to exist, to a place in the sun, to victory. But what is the meaning of this eternal struggle? Why is it so important for us to win, even if sometimes the act of fighting itself brings more pain than joy?

I wondered: what if confrontation is not only a way to assert one’s strength but also a way to find meaning in this chaotic world? Maybe in the process of struggle, we learn our limits, realize who we are, and learn to appreciate every moment when we stay afloat in this merciless ocean of life.

In the end, confrontation is inherent in the very essence of existence. Be it dragons, humans, or even the smallest creatures, we are all caught up in this endless cycle of struggle and survival. We fight not only with external enemies but also with ourselves - with our fears, doubts, and weaknesses. And perhaps it is this struggle that makes us who we are.

With these thoughts, I realized that battles, both for dragons and for people, are not only an act of strength but also a reflection of our desire to find our place in the world, our truth, and our freedom. Although it is not always possible to emerge victorious from a battle, each battle teaches us something new, revealing new facets of our essence.

Lost in thought, I did not even realize when I fell asleep. The little fluffy, following his long-standing habit, settled down to sleep on my chest. Offended by such attention, Tina first lay down near Tarnis, then moved to my feet, and in the morning, having displaced Tusha, woke up on my neck.

The sun had not yet risen, the light was rapidly displacing the night darkness. We hastily left the place where we had spent the night, fearing the return of the fierce dragon. Yurion, who had rested overnight, pulled the cart easily. Sometimes it seemed to me that I was floating on a cloud. We were moving away from the hill where the wounded dragon had landed, I was sitting and thinking:

“Are we doing the right thing? There is a wounded creature there, it is suffering from pain. Yes, it is a dragon. But maybe it is not as aggressive as its brothers. Maybe Pironax and Cryonax started a fratricidal war and one of them turned out to be the winner? In that case, by helping the wounded we can gain a strong ally.

“This is dangerous,” Tush said to no one in particular.

He either read my thoughts or understood my plan. Tina squealed in fear and buried herself in the dry grass. Yurion rolled the cart to the top of the hill. It didn’t take long to find the place where the dragon had fallen. Uprooted grass, clods of loosened earth, blood. Lots of blood. All of this showed that the wounded dragon had fallen in this place. Yurion, excited by the smell of blood, screamed, a grimace of madness ran across his face. Tarnis, having tied the reins, tried to calm the centaur. And I followed the bloody trail that stretched along the slope of the hill. The trail ended at the entrance to a small cave, more reminiscent of a huge badger’s burrow. But if burrowing animals — a fox, a rabbit, a badger — throw the earth they take out of their burrows, then there were no such tracks in this burrow. The entrance was more like a dent left by a huge golf ball.

I moved, each step echoing in my chest like a warning bell. My hand was outstretched, ready to unleash a stream of fire on anyone who showed aggression. I walked, tense as a string, and with each step, I came closer to the source of the eerie silence that enveloped everything around me.

As I approached, a cold wafted out of the cave, and a smell that was impossible to miss. It was the heavy, suffocating smell of blood. Not human — too thick and metallic, too alien to the normal world. It hit my nose, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth as if I had inhaled the rusty air of a long-abandoned iron mine. The smell penetrated my lungs, leaving behind a taste of raw iron.

The sight that opened before me made me freeze. The dragon, huge and majestic, lay on its side, bleeding out. Its scales were soaked in a thick, almost black liquid that ran down its curved ribs and pooled at the base of the cave. The light that penetrated inside emphasized the unnatural hue of the blood, making it shine a deep red, almost burgundy.

I was ready to release fire at any moment, but I could not bring myself to go inside. The sight of the dead dragon — this once powerful creature — filled me with fear and a deep, almost painful sense of loss. I felt the viscous, almost sticky surface squelching under my feet, where the blood mixed with dust and small stones. It was like walking through a swamp, where every step was a reminder of the death of someone much stronger and more majestic than any of the living.

A multitude of annoying flies flying near the ceiling of the cave created a rhythmic sound as if someone had disturbed a beehive nearby. These sounds filled the silence, turning it into an uneasy echo. But it was not just silence. It was the silence of death, enveloping everything and pressing on my shoulders with a weight that I could not shake off.

I did not dare enter the cave. Something inside me told me that a step forward was a step into an abyss from which there was no escape. I stood at the threshold, feeling how fear and anxiety were paralyzing me, and I could not take my eyes off what had once been a mighty dragon. Its end inspired a horror that I could not describe in words. I realized that confrontation is not just a human quality. It is a part of being, a part of the world in which we all exist, and the death of the dragon was the most vivid reminder of this.

In addition to the buzzing, I heard something else, some strange and muffled sounds. As if somewhere underground, a small child was crying.