"Why did I need flame? To scare people? To show them that I can surround myself with fire? What damage can I do to a dragon by surrounding myself with flame?"

The sun was floating in the sky when I woke up from my thoughts. All those questions that were spinning in my head before sleep now seemed foggy and unreal. However, the time for them will still come. Now a new day awaited me, and judging by the state of my stomach, it was already midday. I heard the silence being broken by light steps, almost weightless. Someone was approaching, trying to walk silently.

The door creaked, letting in a fresh stream of air into the room, and immediately a rustle was heard on the dry grass that covered my bedding. I did not move, listening.

"Are you sleeping?" - the thin, almost whispering voice of the Fox was heard nearby. I jumped up abruptly and, like a predator, grabbed her, knocking her down on the dry grass where I was sleeping. She squealed cheerfully, and then her ringing laughter tore through the calm like the first drop of rain on a cloudy sky.

"I'll eat you!" I growled, trying to give my voice a threatening tone that was more reminiscent of a child's game than a real threat. The fox, choking with laughter, squealed:

"Don't eat me! I'm not tasty!"

She laughed so sincerely that for a moment even the weight of reality retreated. It's good to be a naive child, I thought, when the world has not yet lost its bright colors and when laughter can overshadow all troubles and worries.

I sat down next to the fox, watching her wipe away tears of laughter.

"You're strong, aren't you?" she asked, squinting her eyes as if thinking. Her serious gaze contrasted sharply with the moments of carelessness.

"Strong? Perhaps," I answered, feeling my soul lighten. "But you know what? I'm hungry now, and maybe I'll eat you later."

She laughed again, and I felt a strange sense of peace arise inside me, even for a moment, despite all the chaos.

"Papa, he's not sleeping!" Lisa called cheerfully, and immediately after her, her father appeared in the doorway. His gaze was serious and concentrated, and there was a slight tension in his movements as if something was bothering him.

I rose slowly, wiping my palms on my trousers, and met his gaze. He extended his hand to me, and I readily returned the firm handshake. There was strength in his hand, but also some hidden anxiety.

"Breakfast is waiting for you," he said, nodding briefly towards the house.

"Is the fire out?" — I asked, feeling an unpleasant squeeze in my chest, both my hearts were pulled by a heaviness that was not so easy to get rid of.

"First you need to eat, then everything else. I do not think she would approve of you showing up with an empty stomach," he answered softly, but with a stubborn firmness in his voice.

Breakfast, more like lunch, did not take me long. Fried eggs, fresh bread, cheese, and cold milk quickly disappeared from my plate. I ate mechanically, without feeling the taste, as if trying to drown out the hunger not in my stomach, but in my soul.

"You must look and tell me what to do with this," his words sounded unexpected, alarming me. If Maleus, a man twice my age, an experienced master of his craft, a man who had been through a lot, does not know what to do with this, then I certainly do not know.

Or rather, I did not know ... until I saw.

By this Maleus meant the scales of Chiquita that remained after the burning. They had passed through the fire but did not melt or become blackened as if even the hottest flames were not scary to them. It seemed that in front of me was not just the skin of a dragoness, but an evening dress of a socialite or singer, created for a stage show. Chiquita's scales were in my hands, heavier than any dress imaginable.

Maleus thought I would simply bury the dragoness's remains in the ground. But I couldn't do that. I wanted her to be with me, even if she was invisible. The scales meant more to me than a memory. They were a part of her.

I spent the entire day thinking about it, and the decision came only in the evening, when the sun was already setting, preparing to disappear behind the hills. And then an idea struck me. I realized that I needed to try something...

I entered the forge and began to light the fire. I didn't need help: neither from his assistant nor from Maleus himself. I had to do all this myself. The fire in the furnace flared up while I threw Chiquita's outfit onto the hot coals. Then I began to vigorously swing the bellows, speeding up the process.

Maleus, as always, sensed what was happening, and soon appeared behind me.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" he asked, carefully watching me work. He understood my plan without words.

I answered him with a question without turning around:

"Won't you be afraid of what you see?"

Maleus, without hesitation, said:

"I will be afraid of only one thing - if my daughter Lisa is taken away from me."

He resolutely took up the hammer. The fire roared, and we continued to throw coals, trying to warm up Chiquita's scales. But it was all in vain. The outfit did not heat up to the required temperature, no matter how hard we tried.

Maleus hit the scales with force, but they remained unharmed. I took them in my hands. Even though they lay in the red-hot oven for a long time, the outfit did not heat up by a degree. The scales remained as cold as if the heavy hammer and blazing fire had not touched them.

"This is impossible..." - I whispered, realizing that we could not cope with conventional methods. Maleus looked at me and nodded:

"Then we'll have to find another way."

I folded my arms across my chest, feeling the coolness of Chiquita's scales, and closed my eyes. My thoughts flowed to her, to the one who sacrificed herself for us.

"Chiquita, help me... Defeat your enemies. Become my constant companion! Become the one without whom I cannot protect the lives of innocent people and creatures!"

The moment these words echoed in my soul, something began to change. An ancient power rose inside. I felt every cell of my body tremble in anticipation - pulsating, living. My skin became hard as steel, covered in scales - white, silvery, as if dragon armor was flowing from within.

I grew, my hands became stronger and larger, my fingers turned into claws, and my breath became hotter as if a volcano was waking up inside. My appearance changed beyond recognition - I became a monster, a dragon, capable of inspiring fear.

My lips parted, opening my mouth, and fire burst out with wild force, burning everything in its path. I directed it straight at Chiquita's scales as if transferring the power that was seething inside me to her. The scales instantly began to redden, heating up under the tongues of flame, their cold surface softening, becoming flexible and pliable.

Now they were ready for forging.

I growled, maintaining the flames that burst from my mouth, and tried to keep the furnace in a constant heat. The temperature in the forge was unbearable. It seemed that we were in hell itself, where the air was so hot that the breath burned the throat. The water in the vat was seething, boiling, as if ancient magic was mixing with nature itself. Maleus's clothes began to smoke, soaking with his sweat, but he worked relentlessly - his movements were precise as if the metal itself in his hands was submitting to his will. Chiquita's outfit, once proudly worn by her, turned into a heavy ingot that shone with a fiery red light. The blacksmith worked his hammer deftly and carefully, turning this unknown material into a long strip. With each blow, he tempered it, gave it shape, as if forging a new destiny.

The process was like forging a sword from meteoric iron, only this was not just iron. Before us, on the anvil, lay the cloak of a dead dragoness, her last traces on the earth. And with each blow of the forge hammer on the metal, something more than the strength of steel was woven into it: it was her essence, her spirit, forged in the fires of battle and great sacrifice.

Each blow of the hammer echoed in my heart with a dull thud. The feeling of connection to Chiquita, her memory, and my promise grew stronger with each movement of Maleus.

When the sword was ready for the final stage of tempering, I knew that conventional methods would not work. In the forge, where Chiquita's spirit and my determination intertwined with the hot metal, I decided to use a new method of tempering steel.

Usually, to temper metal, it is dipped in cold water or oil, and it hisses, belching steam as if protesting the sudden cooling.

I took a sharp knife and carefully cut my hand. Blood flowing from the vein filled the space around, its scarlet color contrasting with the dull shine of the metal. I directed the flow of my blood directly onto the red-hot blade of the sword. Each drop of my blood, touching the hot metal, left its mark. The blade began to make an unusual sound, thin and almost magical as if the metal itself admired this new essence. The blood, absorbed into the sword, corrected its curvature, formed a groove, and also created a pattern on the blade, reminiscent of scales - a reminder of the dragoness. This pattern was like life, shimmering and sparkling as if the sword itself was gaining a soul.

I saw how in this magical process the sword acquired its true form. Blood was inscribed into the structure of the metal, like a delicate relief on Damascus steel. The patterns on the blade seemed alive, their lines intertwined and shimmered, like a mirror image of dragon scales. Each scale was unique, its pattern shimmering like waves on water, creating a bizarre pattern that connected the sword to Chiquita and her spirit.

This moment was like a mesmerizing ritual, where every movement and drop of blood contained an element of magic and power, giving the sword not only physical strength but also a deep connection with the one we lost.

The sword shone in the glow of the forge as if obeying a spell. I felt my powers connecting with it, as the blood sealed the connection, making it not just a weapon, but a living extension of me and Chiquita.

When I finished the tempering process, a barely perceptible sound sounded above the sword, like a trembling breath. A barely visible light shadow hung in the air as if the magic itself was gathering around the new weapon. I felt the sword come to life in my hands, and this was not just a feeling, but as yet unexplored knowledge.

Stolen story; please report.

I realized that I had created something more than just a weapon. By binding the sword with my blood to the magical source, I infused it with not only power but also the spirit of protection. This sword is meant for a person with a pure soul and bright thoughts. Its purpose is defense, not attack.

The sword could now display magical properties depending on the situation. Although I did not yet know all of its capabilities, I assumed that it was capable of many things.

At the moment of creating the sword, I felt a strange breath that gave me not just coolness, but a wave of cold that penetrated the bones. It was something more than an ordinary wind. In an instant, it became clear to me: something had changed in the world. Oceania warned me about such phenomena

“When you create something good and useful,” she said, “something opposite to good appears on the outskirts of this world.

These words did not leave my consciousness. Now I understood that by creating a sword for protection, I involuntarily caused the existence of a dark creature. Somewhere in the depths of this world, an evil sword equal in power to the Righteous was created. It was endowed with the same destructive power and capabilities but was supposed to serve completely different purposes. The balance of power was preserved. And this knowledge came with the shadow of danger that threatened everything I wanted to protect.

As soon as Maleus finished wrapping the hilt with a leather strip so that my hands would not slip during the fight, I took the sword in my hands, unable to bear it any longer. It trembled slightly in my fingers as if responding to my call, and a barely perceptible tremor ran through it as if the sword was aware of its purpose. The blade shone with a weak light, giving my thoughts confidence.

"I will call you the Righteous," I said, feeling how my words were filled not only with pathos but also with deep solemnity. "Because you are destined for righteous deeds."

The sword did not react in any way with protest - neither rust, nor curvature, nor any other sign of disagreement. On the contrary, it seemed to accept this name with dignity, as if it had always been waiting for such a moment. I smiled to myself - naming a weapon after Chiquita would be too strange and, perhaps, inappropriate. But I decided to perpetuate her memory in a different way

"At the base of the hilt, there will be two symbols: "C" and "h", - I told Maleus, handing him the sword.

The blacksmith nodded, accepting my decision as a given. Soon, the base of the hilt was decorated with carved letters personifying Chiquita. Thus, she will always be near, hidden in my weapon, ready to help in the most difficult moments.

"And now we will work a little," I said, addressing the Righteous as if he were a living being. The blacksmith turned his head, looking at me with bewilderment, but I only waved my hand, showing that the words were not intended for him.

As soon as the forging was completed, I returned to my previous human form. Maleus watched me calmly, but there was an unspoken fear in his eyes. My transformation probably knocked him out of his usual world, and this alerted him.

Having decided to begin the tests, I took the sword in my hands. It vibrated slightly as if responding to my movements. I started with the simplest - a sunflower stalk fell as if no one had touched it. Then a corn stalk - the result is the same. The sword did not feel any resistance, as if the air and the plant were equally empty for it.

I continued the test, this time with firewood. First thin logs, then thicker ones - the Righteous cut the wood with the same ease as the stalks. In my hands, it was not just a sword, but an ideal tool created for flawless cuts. My gaze fell on the fragment of an old sword that had once failed to help me in the battle with the dragon. Having stuck it into a log, I swung the Righteous One - and the fragment broke in half, folding as if it were made of clay.

Now it was time to complicate the task. Near the forge lay an impressive piece of meteorite, brought by the giants. Preparing for the blow, I doubted my resolve for a moment - the meteorite was known for its hardness. But the doubt quickly passed, and I struck. The blade twisted like lightning, cutting the heavenly iron with incredible ease. The piece of meteorite, like a head of cheese under a sharp knife, fell apart in two.

Smiling, I kissed the hilt of the sword. In response, the Righteous One vibrated, as if approving of my victory. This sword was not just a weapon - it promised to become my faithful companion, understanding my intentions when we were ready to bring it nearby when needed. But even that was not enough for me. A fire of impatience burned in my soul - I needed training flights.

Our company witnessed a successful spectacle - an air battle of dragons. Their smooth but precise maneuvers in the atmosphere were mesmerizing. I saw how deftly they circled in the air like whirlpools, attacking Perina, the mother of the dragoness Chiquita. Their movements concealed a predatory, indomitable mind. Of course, I am inferior in size to Perina, but this only increases my desire to prepare better - faster, stronger, more deftly.

I rushed into the air, feeling how the wings unfolded behind my back and began to make movements. I flew in zigzags, made sharp turns, and went into steep spirals. My wings listened to me flawlessly, and each flap was confident. The air entered my ears, my body felt a decrease in tension - as if each muscle had finally found its purpose.

The whirlwind of my movements looked mesmerizing. I spun in the air, pirouetted, as if dancing in the arena of heaven. But it was not just a dance - in my right hand, I held a sword. The Righteous One shone in the light of distant stars, and I swung it as if there were dragons around me. I dodged imaginary attacks, and supposed fire spits, feeling how each sword strike was perfect as if the dragon's head was hanging in the air in front of me.

This training was my chance to prepare for a meeting with those around me. I could not afford a mistake. Every maneuver, every swing of the sword, every thought - all this had to be brought to perfection.

"How to learn to throw fireballs at a dragon?" - a crazy thought flashed through my head. But soon doubts arose: holding a sword in the right hand and throwing fire with the same hand is not entirely convenient. Unfortunately, I am not ambidextrous and confidently use only my right hand.

"What if I involve Chiquita in this?" I thought, turning my thoughts to the sword.

"Girl, can you hear me?" I said quietly, feeling the light vibration of the hilt. Chiquita was paying attention.

I shared my plan with her. If I can't throw fire myself, why not use a sword? After I explained my idea, Chiquita agreed. At that very moment, fireballs began to burst from the tip of my sword, burning the air in front of me.

The fire danced in my hands, like an extension of my body, and I was ready to use it against the dragon.

From the outside, my actions looked rather strange and could attract the attention of a psychiatrist: a man talking to a sword! But I didn’t care what people might think of me. I knew that the spirit of the little dragoness had been reborn as a weapon created against those who killed her and her mother.

To make the flight training more difficult, I flew into the forest and increased my speed, weaving between the trees. The whirlwinds swirled by my movements disturbed the inhabitants of the forest; the trees rustled in response.

“Do not be afraid!” I shouted, directing the words towards the forest. “This is Oris, the Dragon Slayer! I kept my promise and continued to protect you from their wrath. I need to practice my agility, and only here can I do it.”

The excitement subsided as suddenly as it began. Only the indignant squirrels, torn from their nests, continued to be indignant at me.

The moment came when I considered myself prepared for the decisive battle. Before leaving, I had to say goodbye to the blacksmith Maleus and his little daughter Lisa.

We met in the forge. Maleus saw me and lowered his hammer, only his apprentice continued to blow the bellows.

I hesitated for a long time, choosing my words. The words were not as important as the look we exchanged. The look of those who had been through a lot and were now on the threshold of an inevitable separation.

"I am leaving the village and you so that neither the dragon's servants nor the dragons themselves will ever appear in your village again," I said, looking Maleus in the eyes. My words were like an oath, but my voice trembled when I turned my gaze to Lisa. She looked at me with the incomprehension that only children can experience in the face of loss.

The blacksmith shook my hand firmly, his eyes shining with unbidden tears. He was a strong man, and I knew that our meeting had left a mark on his life, just as he had on mine.

"I promise I will find Mila," I said, looking at him. "She will return."

Maleus squeezed my shoulders and nodded, unable to utter a word. His heart was full of pain and hope. Then, unexpectedly, he handed me a small dagger, glittering in the sun.

"This is a copy of the Righteous. A weapon is never superfluous. I think you will find a use for it," he said, and for a moment it seemed to me that he saw in me not just a young man, but a warrior ready to protect his family.

I hugged him. Firmly, in a friendly way. Like an older brother. No words were needed - we both understood that this farewell could be our last.

When I turned to Lisa, her big eyes were full of tears. She held onto her father's sleeve, trying to hide her emotions, but when I came closer, her thin voice sounded like a bell:

"Chiquita is gone... And now you are leaving!"

Her words pierced my heart. I knelt in front of her, gently took her hand, and tried to smile.

"You will never lose me, Lisa," I said softly. "I will always be there, just like Chiquita. We are connected by something more than just distance."

Lisa sobbed and threw herself on my neck, hugging me tightly with her small arms. It was an embrace full of not only sadness but also naive childish love.

"Promise me to come back. I will wait for you as long as it takes!" she whispered as tears touched my neck.

"I promise!"

Arian - Oris, the Dragon Slayer. [https://i.imgur.com/GnPehbU.jpeg]