We both calmed down a little, feeling the anger subside and the tension between us ease. Nyx looked at me with a barely noticeable smile, but a shadow of concern remained in his eyes. I asked the question that bothered me since he mentioned the sorcerer.

"How did you know that the dragons had support?" I asked, looking at him intently.

Nyx paused for a moment, as if choosing his words, and then began to speak, using a metaphor, simple but clear.

"Imagine a boat with several people sitting in it," he said, his voice softening, as if he was immersed in memories. — "As soon as one of the passengers moves — shifts his weight or shifts his weight — the boat rocks. Everyone in it feels this disturbance. Something similar happens in the world of magic. Any spell, any action, be it good or evil, is like a jolt in this boat. All of us who are involved in magic feel these movements."

He paused, and I tried to imagine this magical "boat", trying to grasp the essence of his thought.

"When a good deed is done," Nix continued, "all those involved in magic feel a momentary rush of warmth, a pleasant feeling as if the sun touched their skin. It is fleeting but noticeable. When something illegal happens — magic that goes against the natural order, or an evil deed — we feel a cold prick, as if a piece of ice pierces our hearts."

I thought about his words. I had felt something similar, but I had never attached much importance to it. As if I had always been just an observer, not realizing that I was standing on board this magical boat.

"And if I also cast spells that are not for good?" I asked, trying hard to find an answer to this question. "What should I feel then?"

Nix looked at me for a moment with a hint of sadness, but then spoke more calmly:

"There are only two options. And they work the same for everyone. If you lean towards the dark, if your intentions are not pure, then when your 'colleagues in the shop', as you call them, commit dark deeds, you will receive warm waves, just like when good is done. For the dark, this is the same as the light for us. And vice versa: if you serve the light, every disgusting act of the dark will feel cold."

His words penetrated my consciousness like water seeping through a crack in a rock. The simplicity of this logic was frightening. Darkness and light are two mirrors, each action reflected on the other side. And in this eternal dance of magic, every movement on one side is echoed in the other, no matter which side you stand on.

"I feel these waves," I said, more to myself than to Nyx, and at the same time, aware that with each wave comes responsibility. "So someone is rocking the boat."

"And that someone is much stronger than you can imagine," Nyx nodded. "Be prepared to fight not only the dragons but those who stand behind them."

Nyx paused as if he was unsure if I truly understood the depth of his words. His eyes became serious again, and his voice sounded softer, almost like a teacher guiding his student through a difficult lesson.

"The ability to catch the movements of other mages is not given to everyone," he began, watching my reaction. — "It depends on your union with Oceania, on how you raise your level, how you are connected to this source. Remember your first feelings. Compare them with what you are experiencing now."

I thought about it, remembering my early attempts to create something magical. The delight I felt when I created small flowers or made birds fly. In those moments, it seemed that I was simply playing with magic, immersing myself in its magical world, feeling only joy, without realizing the seriousness of what was happening.

"I am sure that back then you felt nothing but joy," Nyx continued, smiling slightly. - "But with the growth of your skill and power comes responsibility. And it is not only that magic gives power. All those involved in it must realize that every action they take is a step in a huge play of light and darkness."

He paused, and I felt his words begin to penetrate deep into my consciousness. He spoke not simply of magic as a means, but as a living, breathing being on which our entire reality depends.

"You must understand," Nyx continued, his voice becoming serious again, "that magic is not a toy. There is a clear balance between the forces of Darkness and Light. This balance is maintained by millions of little things - good and evil deeds, and conscious and accidental actions of magicians. And the violation of this order can lead to a catastrophe."

I looked at him, unsure where he was leading.

"The magical source will perish," Nyx said quietly, his words sounding like a warning. - "Oceania will disappear, and all of us - those who use its gifts - will turn into the most ordinary people. There will be no more magic. But the worst thing is that all the evil that was done with its help will return to those who did it, tenfold."

I shuddered, realizing the scale of his words. These were not just threats or horror stories. This was a law of the magical world, which I had not fully understood until now.

"Is this possible?" — I asked, not fully believing it, but understanding that magic is not something to joke about.

"Perhaps," Nyx answered calmly. — "And the stronger we become, the more responsibility falls on our shoulders. Magic is not just power. It is a connection with Oceania, with what makes us who we are. And if this order is violated, chaos will engulf us all."

His words hung in the air, making me think about the fact that every step I take, every spell I cast, not only affects the world but becomes part of this great magical balance. And I must be prepared for the fact that any wrong move can have catastrophic consequences.

I looked down and plunged into memories. Our conversation with Oceania, which once seemed like a simple instruction, now took on a new, deeper meaning. Then she spoke to me about the same responsibility, but I was too young and inexperienced to fully understand her words. It was the moment when I was just starting to take my first steps in magic. Now everything seemed clearer, and Nix's words, like puzzles, fit together into the overall picture.

I looked at Nix and asked the question that had been brewing in me for a long time:

"What you just told me is clear. I will try to act carefully. But what if the opposite side, like the sorcerer, decides to upset the balance? Wants to become the ruler of the world and plunge it into chaos. How can this be stopped?"

Nix took a deep breath, his eyes darkened as if he was thinking about something important and complex.

"You, the evil sorcerer, and the dragons - everyone knows and remembers about the balance," he finally began. - "We are all in the same boat, as I told you before. We feel every hesitation. You have already experienced those icy pricks when evil commits its deeds."

I nodded, remembering those moments. It wasn't so much painful as unpleasant, like a slight chill that went right to the bone.

"Have you noticed that these pricks aren't as strong as the warmth you feel when something good happens?" he continued.

"Yes, that's true," I replied, but I didn't understand where he was going with this yet.

"If the evil forces outnumber the good, the pricks will turn into blows, and then they will follow each other constantly, coldly touching your soul. The balance will be maintained even if evil occupies ninety-five percent of the world and good only five."

"But how is that possible?" I wondered. "How can the balance remain if evil has almost completely consumed everything?"

Nyx smiled slightly, but there was more bitterness in his smile than joy.

"Balance is not about equal forces, it is about preserving the whole. As long as there is a drop of good and a drop of evil, the world remains in balance. But when one side wins completely, that is when the balance will be truly upset. Evil cannot exist without good, just as good cannot exist without darkness."

His words sounded like a warning, a caution to anyone willing to challenge the very nature of this world.

"And if that happens?" I asked, feeling a chill run down my spine.

"Then the world as you know it will collapse," Nyx answered seriously. "And if evil wins completely, nothing will stop it from destroying all life. But good, if it displaces the darkness, can upset the balance, because the world will cease to be a world of struggle and balance."

His words left me in deep thought. Striving for victory does not mean destroying enemies to the last, but rather seeking that subtle path where life and death, light and darkness can exist together, supporting the very essence of this world.

"I still don't understand," I began, pondering his words. "Let's say we finish off the dragon, and convince the sorcerer to do only good deeds. Won't that upset the balance?"

Nix looked at me with a slight smile, as if I had just asked the most naive question. A shadow of something like good-natured irony appeared in his eyes.

"Remember what you did to the bandits who wanted to rob your caravan?" he began slowly, pondering every word. "You could have killed them, but you spared their lives. You just made it harder for them by reducing their height."

I froze for a moment, remembering that incident. It was rather cruel, as I thought then, but I didn't want to kill them at all.

"What did you do to the brothers?" Nix continued. — "You didn't execute them for killing the old merchant. Who, by the way, wasn't a merchant."

These words weren't a surprise to me, but Nix didn't give me time to think, continuing:

"You decided to re-educate the brothers by turning them into a centaur, didn't you? You didn't just ruin their lives but gave them a new, albeit strange, but still an opportunity to change themselves. With your actions, you, figuratively speaking, opened a well of clean water in an arid area."

I thought about his words. I indeed preferred to punish, not destroy. To give them a chance to survive and change their lives, and not destroy them.

"But that's also evil, Nix," I objected, frowning. — "The same bandits cried from grief when they realized that they had become dwarves. The brothers suffered from their new nature, merged into one."

Nix nodded, his gaze becoming more serious.

"Yes, you are right. On the one hand, it is evil. But this evil does not destroy the world but gives people the opportunity to change. This is the very delicate balance I was talking about. You did not act like a villain who seeks to destroy everything in his path. You gave them a chance, gave them a path to purification, albeit through suffering." He paused, letting me comprehend what he said.

"There is no absolute good or evil in the world, my boy. Everything is nuanced. Even good deeds can carry a shadow of pain, just as evil deeds can sometimes lead to something good. This is the true balance."

His words gradually reached me. The world is not black and white, and all our actions only shift the weight from one scale to another, trying to maintain a precarious balance.

"Nix, the blacksmith will be forging a sword for me today. Perhaps you could help? Cast some powerful spell on it to strengthen it?"

"First, forge the sword, bring it to readiness. If I try to enchant a simple red-hot piece of iron, I doubt it will produce anything worthwhile."

"I'm still counting on your help."

We said goodbye, agreeing to meet when the sword was ready. Walking along the dark path, I thought about Nix's words. Four Hearts is an incredible defense. I wonder if all dragons have them? Take Perina, Chiquita's mother, for example. I should have examined her wounds more carefully. I remember a cut in her chest - as if someone had struck her with something long and sharp. When Cryonax held me, his claws did not seem long enough to cause such wounds. They can only scratch dragon scales, but not cut through them. Maybe dragons have weapons that no one knows about?"

Long before reaching the village, I heard the noise of bellows being blown up. Ogloblya was heating the blanks. Maleus was standing near the anvil and when I appeared, he only nodded his head in greeting. He did not need my help.

Maleus mercilessly hit the blank thrown onto the anvil with a hammer, which he held with one hand. With his other hand, he held the red-hot blank with pliers. Under the blacksmith's strong blows, the metal deformed, changed shape and stretched into a strip. The forging process was a bit monotonous. The blows of the hammer alternated with the hiss of evaporating water and the uniform puffing of the bellows.

We were pouring with sweat, drinking warm water in turns. Of the three of us, I was the only one who sweated in vain, acting as an observer. The blacksmith did not let go of his hands' hammer, did not let me knock. He simply saved my strength, because when the first sample of the forged sword was ready, the second blank was placed on the anvil. "I do not know what we will get in the end. But while we have time and no one is watching, let's make blanks."

The forging of swords continued until dawn. We worked silently, concentrating on every detail. Soon, about a dozen semi-finished products lay before us, each of which needed some finishing before becoming a full-fledged weapon. This was only the initial stage.

We had to work for a whole week, mostly at night. First, we flattened the metal into long strips, then stretched them into the shape of the future blade. Separately, we forged the crossguard and the pommel for the handle. After rough work with the metal, the important moment of cooling came. The cooled blanks were carefully turned and sharpened, turning into sharp blades. But all this was only preparation for the final stage - hardening. Without it, the blades will not gain the strength and sharpness needed for combat. This process required precision and patience to prevent cracks or distortions.

Every detail required maximum concentration. The swords gradually took shape but were still far from ideal.

Tired from the night watch, I hid in the barn where the owners stored the mown grass after barely having a bite to eat. Lying on a soft, fragrant bedding seemed like the highest bliss, and sleep quickly closed my eyelids. But before plunging into the world of dreams, Chiquita often visited me. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Lisa. The dragoness, like a cat, crept up quietly and gently touched my face with her tongue. Usually, she licked my cheek, and when I woke up, I smiled, stroking her head.

"Nobody is hurting you?" I whispered, feeling her warm breath.

Chiquita purred in response, her voice was quiet but soothing. I understood from her tone that the peasants did not harm her, and this gave me a feeling of peace. Tush and Tina usually went about their business, so I had to communicate with the dragoness without translators. Once, in a half-asleep state, I asked her: "Chiquita, why don't you speak human language?"

She froze for a moment, and then a quiet, barely audible voice whispered: "I'm afraid."

I woke up instantly. Joy boiled inside me. "You can speak?" - I exclaimed, barely containing my emotions.

"Just a little," she answered.

I sat up, and looked closely at Chiquita, using my magical gaze, which allowed me to see more than just eyes. Before me, in the form of a dragoness, a barely distinguishable image of a girl began to appear. I did not believe my eyes and rubbed them hard. But the image of the girl did not disappear.

"Did you expect to see a young man in me?" Chiquita asked with a slight mockery, and I realized that she had changed. She was growing up before my eyes.

"Dragons live much longer than humans, you know that. My current dragon form reflects who I am now."

"How do you do it?" I asked, amazed.

"I just wanted you to see me in a form more familiar to you. I thought about it for a long time. But, unfortunately, I cannot yet fully assume human form. I can’t do it," she admitted.

Here, for the first time, I felt that Chiquita was not just a dragon, but a creature with deep magical powers. She somehow instinctively realized her ability to control magic, perhaps inspired by Lisa, her friend, and now she aspired to become at least a little like her.

I suddenly realized that Chiquita, my ward, needed my support and protection more than ever before. In the human world there is language, there are common customs, and external forms that unite them, creating a sense of belonging. But the little dragoness was deprived of this. In our society, she was completely alone. Her loneliness, perhaps, was the reason that she began to speak. She needed the opportunity to express herself, to understand our world, and to stand on the same level with people at least in terms of communication.

Chiquita looked at me with her large, slightly glowing eyes, full of questions. She did not understand why we were still here, what we were waiting for, why we did not go in search of her father. And most importantly - how long this would continue. All these questions, which had previously been hidden in her silent appearance, now fell upon me, and I realized that I could no longer hide my thoughts and plans from her.

She asked quietly, barely noticeably hesitating:

"Why are we staying here for so long? Why are we not looking for our father?"

I sighed. Before, I did not see the point in dedicating her to my thoughts, but now the situation has changed. "Chiquita, you know that finding your father is not an easy task. We must be prepared for it. You have become stronger, but the world we are going to is full of dangers. I cannot just go where enemies may be waiting. We must be sure that we have the strength and weapons."

She lowered her head, thinking. "What if we do not have enough strength?" - her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

I looked at her and said softly: "It must be enough. We will be ready. I promise."

"But how long will we have to wait?" - she asked again, her voice worried.

"I do not know, Chiquita. But now we are preparing to face any challenge. And when the time comes, we will set off. I will not abandon you. We will find your father."

Chiquita looked at me with worry and hope in her eyes. She asked the question that I knew would come sooner or later.

"If we find my father, will you stay with us?" Her voice was quiet, but there was anticipation in it.

I sighed. I didn't want her to be upset ahead of time, but I had to tell the truth.

"Chiquita," I began sadly, trying to choose my words carefully, "I have my own family. Dad, Mom, and little brother. I, like you, want to see them again. For this, I prepare weapons and gather strength to overcome the obstacles that prevent us from living in peace. We both have enemies, and they threaten not only you but me as well. When we defeat them, then perhaps everything will change, and we will be able to live without looking around. I do not belong to the dragon family, I do not have wings, I do not breathe fire."

Chiquita clenched her teeth, her eyes narrowed. "You are not telling me the whole truth," she said quietly but sharply. "You are deceiving me!" I looked at her in surprise, but she did not stop, continuing with anger: "I see that the blood of dragons flows in you, that if you want, you can spread your wings and burn your enemies with flames. You simply do not want to recognize me as your kin!" - her voice trembled with indignation. - "You cannot accept me because I am a dragoness and cannot look like a human!"

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I had to brace myself to answer calmly.

"Chiquita, you're wrong. I'm not deceiving you or rejecting you. The thing is, I have unfulfilled obligations. I can't stay in one place for too long. My time here is limited. But you're not alone, and I'll be with you as long as I can. As long as I'm here, you're under my protection."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The dragon girl clicked her teeth and ran away, leaving the door unlocked behind her. I sighed heavily. How could I explain to this simple-minded child that not everything is as simple as it seems at first glance? Her instincts are superior to reason, but some things cannot be understood without understanding. The dream was gone, and I decided to return to the forge.

Taking the sword in my hands, I made a few rotational movements. As Targon, the fencing teacher from the forest village once taught me. There was a hiss of cutting air, I froze for a moment, wondering which of the exercises would be useful to me in a fight with the dragon. The sound of stealthy footsteps on the stone floor of the forge brought me back to reality. A cloaked figure of a wanderer appeared in the doorway. The faint light of the fire from the dying forge reflected from his eyes, and I saw that Nyx was fulfilling his promise.

"You know why I am here, Aryan," his voice was deep, like a crack in the rock. He slowly took the bag from his shoulder, taking out a small bag of powder, a scroll, and a quill. His hands moved with measured precision as if each gesture was part of an ancient ritual. I watched silently, understanding that something important was coming.

"Your sword," Nyx pointed to the weapon. I handed it over, feeling the cold metal run through my fingers.

"It should repel the fire, Aryan. But not just reflect it - return the flame to where it came from," Nix unrolled a scroll with ancient symbols written on it. Slowly, with a mystical melody, he began to read them:

"With the fire that the ancient beast breathes,

I will put its spark into the steel.

Not the flame will become the heart of the sword,

But the gleam that I will return."

With each word, the air around us thickened, and the metal of the sword began to glow slightly as if absorbing ancient spells. Nix threw a little powder into the fire, and the flames of the forge rose, embracing the weapon like dragon wings. The sword became hot but did not melt, but instead glowed with a soft red light.

Nix finished the spell, and the fire went out. The sword cooled, but its surface now slightly reflected the light, like a mirror-like surface of water.

"Now it is ready. Do not be afraid to use it. "The fire of your enemy will become your strength," - with these words, the wizard turned and disappeared, as quietly as he had appeared.

"And talk?" - the question that had not yet sounded got stuck in my throat. I had planned that after casting the spell, Nix, Maleus, and I would drink a glass of wine, and strengthen our relationship. But no, Nix ruined everything with his disappearance. The easy evening turned into a painful wait.

Nix's quick disappearance soon found an explanation - a detachment of dragon servants entered the village. Disgusting creatures, reminiscent of people with animal masks on their heads, moved with terrifying coherence. Only these were not masks, but real muzzles - distorted, fanged, with dog noses and a lush mane on the back of their heads. Their yellow eyes sparkled in the dim light as if they lived only for the sake of violence.

The servants quickly scattered around the village, driving people to the square. I felt a cold fear grip me. But the worry was not about myself - I was thinking about Chiquita. My heart sank, and I rushed to look for her.

I didn't have to look for long. She was hiding in the old barn where I usually spent the night, trembling with fear. When I opened the door, Chiquita, huddled in the corner, looked at me with big, frightened eyes.

"I'm scared," she whispered, her voice quiet as the whisper of the autumn wind. "I think something terrible will happen today."

"Not everyone can see the future," I answered, kneeling before her. "You're just afraid. Bury yourself in the hay and don't crawl out of it under any circumstances. I'm armed now and I won't let anyone hurt you."

She nodded, sighing heavily, and slowly sank into the pile of hay, leaving only the tips of her wings visible. I looked around her hiding place once more and, clutching my sword tightly, went outside.

I quickly left the barn and, trying not to attract unnecessary attention to the building from the dragon's servants, headed towards the crowd of people. Among them stood the blacksmith Maleus, his powerful figure standing out from the rest. Not far away stood his assistant, Clovers, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

"What is the meeting about?" I asked, approaching Maleus.

"I don't know exactly," he replied, frowning. "Perhaps they will gather cattle for food. They do that from time to time. They come, say that they protect us from troubles and misfortunes, and in return demand horned cattle. But today they showed up earlier than usual." He cast a thoughtful glance at me. "Is the appearance of servants connected with your presence?"

I glanced at those who stood in front. Their disgusting faces were twisted in a half-laugh, half-grin as if they knew something that we did not.

"Everything will soon become clear," I answered, feeling how my palm automatically lay on the hilt of the sword. "By the way, if the situation becomes threatening, I will immediately use the sword. I will try it on these creatures."

Maleus nodded, but I saw a shadow of anxiety in his eyes.

I naively thought that the captain of the squad would appear before the assembled people and make the usual statement - intimidation, demands, and all in the usual spirit. However, something was wrong this time. The dragon's servants exchanged glances, and suddenly, with brutal cruelty, they began to push people aside, freeing up space in the center of the square. I became wary.

Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of heavy wings, and a shadow covered us. A huge black dragon landed in the center of the square. Its eyes burned with fire, and clouds of smoke burst from its mouth. It was Pyronax - the terror of Orqualia.

The dragon, towering over the people, cast a ferocious glance at the crowd. Its eyes sparkled with fire, and rings of smoke burst from its nose from time to time. Small tongues of flame leaked through its clenched teeth as if it was barely holding back from incinerating everything around it. I couldn't help but glance at his claws. How could such small claws inflict the terrible wounds I'd seen on the bodies? If Pyronax had fought Perina, his power would have been a thousand times greater than I could have imagined.

His massive body seemed like the embodiment of death. Not four, but ten hearts could fit in such a carcass, beating in unison. The dragon's scales looked like they were covered with armored plates up close. Probably, even a tank shot wouldn't penetrate this armor.

As if on command, the captain of the servuses came out in front of the dragon - those very creatures with ugly animal faces. On his shoulder sat a small furry animal with intelligent eyes, obviously another translator between people and monsters. The captain, making rough, barking sounds, spoke:

"People!" - his voice sounded as if every sound was a mockery. — "We have learned that you have sheltered a small dragon. Give it to us, and your houses will remain intact. You will remain intact. Recently, we burned down a neighboring village for disobedience. The same fate awaits you if you show stubbornness!"

I felt the tension in the air become tangible. The people around froze, and no one dared to speak. Pyronax exhaled impatiently, and the smoke from his nostrils enveloped the square like a black shroud.

I convulsively clutched my sword, preparing to hear angry cries. The entire village knew that the wanted dragon baby lived in the yard of the blacksmith. But, contrary to my expectations, the people were silent. No one even hinted that they were ready to cooperate with the dragon.

Unexpectedly, an old man, shaking a crooked stick, shouted:

"Get away, creatures! You are taking away our cattle, our children, our freedom. We are not your servants!"

A woman supported him:

"There is no one in our village except our children!"

I felt silent gratitude to all those who dared to stand up to Pyronax and his servants. However, the dragon took it differently. His gaze narrowed and he growled something to the captain. He, in turn, gave an order to his soldiers.

The dragon's servants were several times more numerous than the villagers. Panic arose. The screams multiplied, and the soldiers, pushing people aside, began to take small children from their mothers. Maleus rushed to his wife, trying to protect their child, but was knocked down and pinned to the ground. The captain foresaw his reaction and hastened to neutralize the blacksmith.

The crying children were brought to the dragon, and Pyronax looked at them with a predatory gaze. His eyes stopped on Lisa. Her light hair made the girl the most noticeable in the group.

"What is the meeting about?" I asked, approaching Maleus.

"I don't know exactly," he replied, frowning. "Perhaps they will gather cattle for food. They do that from time to time. They come, say that they protect us from troubles and misfortunes, and in return demand horned cattle. But today they showed up earlier than usual." He cast a thoughtful glance at me. "Is the appearance of servants connected with your presence?"

I glanced at those who stood in front. Their disgusting faces were twisted in a half-laugh, half-grin as if they knew something that we did not.

"Everything will soon become clear," I answered, feeling how my palm automatically lay on the hilt of the sword. "By the way, if the situation becomes threatening, I will immediately use the sword. I will try it on these creatures."

Maleus nodded, but I saw a shadow of anxiety in his eyes.

I naively thought that the captain of the squad would appear before the assembled people and make the usual statement - intimidation, demands, and all in the usual spirit. However, something was wrong this time. The dragon's servants exchanged glances, and suddenly, with brutal cruelty, they began to push people aside, freeing up space in the center of the square. I became wary.

Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of heavy wings, and a shadow covered us. A huge black dragon landed in the center of the square. Its eyes burned with fire, and clouds of smoke burst from its mouth. It was Pyronax - the terror of Orkvalia.

The dragon, towering over the people, cast a ferocious glance at the crowd. Its eyes sparkled with fire, and rings of smoke burst from its nose from time to time. Small tongues of flame leaked through its clenched teeth as if it was barely holding back from incinerating everything around it. I couldn't help but glance at his claws. How could such small claws inflict the terrible wounds I'd seen on the bodies? If Pyronax had fought Perina, his power would have been a thousand times greater than I could have imagined.

His massive body seemed like the embodiment of death. Not four, but ten hearts could fit in such a carcass, beating in unison. The dragon's scales looked like they were covered with armored plates up close. Probably, even a tank shot wouldn't penetrate this armor.

As if on command, the captain of the servuses came out in front of the dragon - those very creatures with ugly animal faces. On his shoulder sat a small furry animal with intelligent eyes, obviously another translator between people and monsters. The captain, making rough, barking sounds, spoke:

"People!" - his voice sounded as if every sound was a mockery. — "We have learned that you have sheltered a small dragon. Give it to us, and your houses will remain intact. You will remain intact. Recently, we burned down a neighboring village for disobedience. The same fate awaits you if you show stubbornness!"

I felt the tension in the air become tangible. The people around froze, and no one dared to speak. Pyronax exhaled impatiently, and the smoke from his nostrils enveloped the square like a black shroud.

I convulsively clutched my sword, preparing to hear angry cries. The entire village knew that the wanted dragon baby lived in the yard of the blacksmith. But, contrary to my expectations, the people were silent. No one even hinted that they were ready to cooperate with the dragon.

Unexpectedly, an old man, shaking a crooked stick, shouted:

"Get away, creatures! You are taking away our cattle, our children, our freedom. We are not your servants!"

A woman supported him:

"There is no one in our village except our children!"

I felt silent gratitude to all those who dared to stand up to Pyronax and his servants. However, the dragon took it differently. His gaze narrowed and he growled something to the captain. He, in turn, gave an order to his soldiers.

The dragon's servants were several times more numerous than the villagers. Panic arose. The screams multiplied, and the soldiers, pushing people aside, began to take small children from their mothers. Maleus rushed to his wife, trying to protect their child, but was knocked down and pinned to the ground. The captain foresaw his reaction and hastened to neutralize the blacksmith.

The crying children were brought to the dragon, and Pyronax looked at them with a predatory gaze. His eyes stopped on Lisa. Her light hair made the girl the most noticeable in the group.

The dragon grabbed her dress roughly with his claw and pulled her towards him as if she were a toy. Then his guttural voice rang out over the crowd:

"People! How stupid and merciless you are. Is the life of a strange dragon more important than the life of this little girl?"

A volcano of anger raged inside me, inflaming every cell. It was not just indignation - it was a rage that tore me apart. Pyronax had mocked us all, and Lisa's life hung by a thread. It was unbearable. Drawing my sword, I rushed towards the dragon with desperate determination, in an instant overcoming the distance separating us, and struck his clawed paw.

But instead of triumph, the sword clanged pitifully. With a crunch that tore everything inside, the blade broke off right at the base of the hilt. This sound seemed to tear apart my hopes. I felt everything crumbling around me. Pyronax raised his icy eyes to me - there was not a drop of respect in them, only contempt, as if I were another pathetic insect that he was about to crush.

And he crushed me. Flashing his claws, he hit me in an instant with such force that the world turned upside down, and I fell to the ground. My face was in the dirt, and his heavy paw pressed me to the ground like garbage. This humiliation was worse than pain. I felt my breathing become ragged, and my chest burned with despair and helplessness, but death did not come. Dragon power boiled in my blood, which did not allow me to leave this world. It was a pity that it could not give me more strength than just survival.

While I was helplessly lying under Pyronax's paw, my mind was racing in search of a way out. Spells - there were thousands of them in my head, but I could not concentrate. How pathetic it all is. I, with my magical abilities, could not even save myself, let alone those around me. And the dragon knew it. He reared up and thundered a voice that rolled across the square like thunder:

"Are there any more fools among you like this impudent fellow? You see how senseless it is!"

I choked on an internal scream, desperately calling for Nix, but there was no answer. Nowhere. No one appeared. Only the stench of the dragon's breath and the malicious laughter of his servants. My hope was melting before my eyes.

"Oceania…" I whispered almost silently, desperately clinging to the last straw. - "What should I do? How can I free myself?"

Her voice came into my head, cold and calm as always:

"You are a magician. You have a thousand ways to save yourself and your friends. Why are you hesitating?"

My heart was beating wildly, and something inside was tearing itself apart. But I didn't even have time to answer, because I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. The crowd began to part, and I felt the blood freeze in my veins. It was her. Chiquita. My dragoness. Her small paws timidly and hesitantly grabbed Pironax's huge clawed paw. Her fragile, innocent fingers seemed to be trying to stretch this mountain of muscle and armor, to free me. And Pironax, with disdain for all living things, loosened his grip. I jumped convulsively to my feet, my heart pounding wildly in my chest, but at that very second I was entangled in a net. The rough, coarse net squeezed me like a trap for an animal, and I helplessly fell to my knees. They grabbed me by the hair and twisted my arms behind my back. The network was absorbing magic, some incoherent fragments of words were spinning in my head.

"Chiquita!" - my voice was breaking out of my throat, and my hands were thrashing, but the servuses were already leaning over me, their vile faces grinning with disgust. They were ready to tear me to pieces.

"Don't be afraid, I'm near... I will save you! Forgive me!" - I screamed, although inside me everything was torn apart by pain and fear that I would not be able to protect her.

But at that moment I felt only one thing - horror. Not for myself, but for her. And there was nothing more terrible than this feeling. I cried along with the little dragon, tears clouded my eyes.

Chiquita, hearing my voice, turned around, and I saw how she was trying to portray a smile, despite the tears endlessly rolling down her cheeks. Her eyes were full of indescribable fear - fear for me, for her life. This fear was like a knife cutting me from the inside. I looked at her, and deep in my soul there was a timid hope that somehow everything would resolve itself. Maybe the cavalry in the person of Nix would suddenly appear, or Oceania would show its virtue and save my beloved little Chiquita. I never doubted for a second my love for the little dragoness. Comparing her to the fluffies, I knew that Chiquita was more vulnerable and defenseless. Tush and Tina, despite their size, could run quickly, performing intricate loops and somersaults, throwing off the pursuer. Their ability to change the color of their fur made them practically invisible in any situation. And what could Chiquita do? She was too fragile and could not defend herself the way her relatives could.

I considered myself her guardian, her protector. Her life was more precious to me than my own. And here she was, terrified, clutched in Pyronax's paw, her eyes searching for an answer to a question that seemed unspeakable: "How is this possible?" Pyronax stood on his hind legs and raised Chiquita above his head like a grim trophy. His scales glinted in the sun as he shook her in the air, snarling in anger. His voice, filled with malice, echoed across the square like thunder:

"Bladrock! Your daughter is in my hands! She, like you, is my enemy! See how I deal with my enemies!"

With these words, Pyronax tossed Chiquita high above him. She circled in the air, her small wings fluttering in panic. The dragon's claws, instantly becoming incredibly long and sharp, like poisonous thorns, turned towards her. He did not hesitate. With precision that froze the blood in the veins, he pierced Chiquita through and through, her frail body instantly filling with dark blood. Death was quick, but its aftermath pierced me to the very heart.

Chiquita, my little dragoness, died in the blink of an eye. The people in the square gasped, and soon their horror was replaced by loud, all-consuming wailing. The women, their eyes filled with tears, sobbed as if each tear was for the life they had lost, for the sorrow they saw in the fate of the little dragoness, reflected in their own.

Pyronax contemptuously threw Chiquita's wounded body to the ground, like a useless piece of trash. His gaze, full of sinister satisfaction, was directed in my direction. He was the very embodiment of ruthless force.

"I leave you alive so that you can tell these foolish people that I cannot be killed. They say that Oris, the 'Dragon Slayer', roams somewhere. If you meet him, tell him of your foolish attempt."

His words sounded like a sentence, another insult that was torn from his throat. I stood there, overcome by complete apathy and grief, knowing that all I could do was bear witness to this horror. Pyronax turned away, leaving me trapped in pain and a feeling of utter helplessness. I had to not only survive this night but also live with the memory of my failure to save Chiquita.

Dragon Pyronax. [https://i.imgur.com/g6tG94n.jpeg]