A dragon it certainly is, but not your typical scaled, leather-winged fantasy beast. No, this creature is wreathed head to tail in a rainbow parade of feathers that would make any gay’s heart skip a beat, its long thin body held aloft by a gigantic pair of feathery wings, its four delicate limbs tucked close to its scaled underside, its clawed hands alone the size of our simple home.

The sight conjures half-remembered passages from one of Hen’s books, The History of The Five Kingdoms. Dragons were supposed to protect humanity. They and the fae had been the saviors against the godlings. They weren’t even supposed to come this far north, so why was this one here, looking the part of a wrathful storm given living form?

I sit in awe and terror of the magnificent beast, my body frozen to the spot as it opens its narrow maw and bellows, “HENDRICK,” his name more a curse on the dragon's tongue.

“I come to settle your debts,” the dragon says, voice still the same thunderous booming of before. “Struggle not, and I will leave the girl alive.”

I tear my gaze from the awful might of the dragon and stare up at Hen instead. His eyes meet mine again, full of pain and frustration. He sets his jaw, closes his eyes, lifts his head, then opens them again, almost as if in defiance to the dragon’s daunting gaze.

“Cannot you give me but one more day?” He shouts over the sound of the dragon’s beating wings. “Just one day to settle my affairs, and I will come willingly.

“No,” I shout, the sound almost whimpering. “Don’t leave me. I still need you, Hen. You can’t leave me like this. I still don’t know even half of what I need to survive. You can’t just take him from me, not now!” The words feel petulant and stupid, but I can’t help but say them anyway. I’m desperate, I realize. At this moment, I’ll probably do anything if it means I get to keep him here.

His hand cups my face, the touch warm and terribly comforting, a sad smile about its features that spread from his eyes to his mouth. “You know plenty to get by. I believe in you, Jen. All you need to do is believe in yourself now. That’s all.”

“This quickly grows tiring,” the dragon bellows, lifting its head to the sky. “Come with me now, or watch your pet be consumed.”

“Very well. I’ll go. Just leave Jen be,” Hen shouts back, his voice ringing with determination, his jaw set in a grim line.

My mind races, panic and desperation guiding my actions. Ignoring the voice in my head telling me it's futile, I step forward and thrust my hands toward the dragon, channeling all the mana within me. There’s a slight pop, and the air in front of me shimmers with a bright blue light, brief and intense. The cloud of energy dissipates as quickly as it appeared, leaving me drained and weak, my body collapsing like a house of cards.

Just before I hit the ground, Hen's strong hands close around me, his grip tight and urgent. The pain from his fingers seems distant, overshadowed by his touch, the warmth of his skin against mine. It's a lifeline in this surreal moment, a connection to reality amidst the chaos.

“That was damned foolish,” he says, tone scathing. “What in the seven hells made you think that was a good idea, girl?”

I open my mouth to reply with my usual snark but find my tongue unable to move, my words trapped behind a fog of fear and confusion.

“Pathetic,” the dragon says, almost making the word sound like a derisive snort. “I expected more from one of your choosing, Hendrick. Come now, to me. Let us be done with this foul business.”

Hen exhales an exasperated breath and lowers me gently to the ground, then, wordlessly, approaches the massive dragon as it drops to the earth with a hefty thud that sets the trees around me to rocking and the ground to trembling. With one nimble forelimb, the dragon snatches Hen up in a rough grip around his middle, and I catch a wince of pain on his face for the briefest of moments before he hides it behind a mask of calm indifference.

“Good,” the dragon hisses between its columns of fangs. “Now for one last parting gift.”

“You said you would not harm her,” Hen yells in protest, suddenly struggling against the creature’s vice-like grip.

“I said I would not kill her, but none may be permitted to stand against our kind without at least being marked.” It steps towards me on its hind limbs and reaches forward with one free hand, pressing one clawed finger to my forehead. “Be bathed in the agony of your transgressions.”

At the dragon’s words, my body is awash in blinding pain, as if every inch of my body is being stretched and twisted in all the wrong ways. A scream tears itself from my throat, and I fall to the ground writhing, my whole being feeling as if I’m engulfed in the hottest of flames.

“This was not what we agreed to,” Hen yells again, but the best ignores him as I roll in my suffering.

The creature pins me with one massive digit, then, with what amounts to its thumb, presses down on my arm with terrible, inevitable pressure. My bones groan as the pressure slowly rises, a scream parts my lips, then a crack fills the clearing as my bones shatter like glass, my arm tearing torn to shreds both inside and out, blood pouring in several hot streams. I choke on my own screams, tears tracking burning lines down my face.

Slowly the beast reaches out with another draconic finger, pressing down on my opposing leg. “Please,” I beg, the one word a harsh rasping thing, tears clouding my vision.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The dragon erupts into hissing, smoke bowling out the sides of its mouth. “I did not give you permission to beg, mortal.” Its voice is like the scratch of claws on steel, digging into my ears, leaving them ringing, my vision blurring with the sensation. Suddenly the pressure on my leg increases, and another loud crack echoes through the air, and I puke with the sheer blinding horror of the pain as what befell my arm happens to my leg.

“No,” Hen screams, struggling harder against the dragon’s grip, a blue glow appearing around his hands. “Stop this!”

The dragon places its finger on my other leg, and a guttural growl escapes Hen’s throat, the sound like thunder to the dragon’s storm. The blue light pouring from his hand explodes in a blinding flash, a concussive wave knocking the dragon’s hand away from me.

“That’s enough,” He says, his voice an unfamiliar etheric rumble.

The dragon’s head swivels on its long neck, eyeing the man in its grasp for a long, ponderous moment. “Very well,” It says, then begins beating its wings, wind crashing down on me like a hurricane as it slowly lifts off the ground, leaving me in a growing puddle of my own blood, broken and barely able to think save for one thing.

“Where?” I gasp out through gritted teeth, eyes locked onto the dragon, sure that the word must have been lost in the wind, but the creature pauses midair, wings beating a heavy, steady rhythm.

“Impressive fortitude for a mortal,” the dragon speaks, its booming voice holding what I think is a sliver of begrudging respect, though it might just be amusement.

“As you have shown spirit worthy of the one beg, I will tell you this. Avoid the lands beyond the endless sea, the ones your kind name the new world, lest you find me and my siblings and those who venerate us. We do not take kindly to strangers.” With that, the dragon turns away once more, beating its gigantic wings, and disappears beyond the treeline, roaring once more as it leaves me behind.

Another lance of pain runs through me at the sound, and I go still as I wait for it to pass. A bloody froth bubbles from my lips as I lay dying amongst the rubble of what was, for a short time, my home. The rhythm of the dragon’s wings slowly fades away as the seconds pass, then, after what might be a few more seconds or a few more minutes, returns the birdsong.

Damn it all, I think, my vision growing dark. I don’t want to die. Not again.

With my one good arm, I roll myself over on the earth, tears sliding to the ground now muddy with my blood. I scream as my shattered limbs twist and bend unnaturally, bits of bone grinding against eachother beneath my hot, tattered flesh, pain like a thousand fires racing through me, adrenaline pounding my heart into an unsteady staccato and raising my gorge, but none of it is enough to stop me now.

Teeth clenched, the taste of copper on my tongue, I crawl towards the shattered door of the crumbling house, every motion grinding my broken bones together and twisting the mangled flesh of my lacerated limbs, a thick trail of blood following in my wake.

It takes forever, I’m sweating, bleeding, and broken, but I finally cross the threshold, dragging myself to the simple range and glancing about for the one thing that might save me.

Slowly, I begin shifting broken boards aside with my one good arm, and after a few seconds, I find it on the floor, one shining end sticking out from beneath a shattered plank of wood like the becoming glow of a star. The health potion.

Rolling carefully onto my back and gripping the vial tight in my hand, I rip the cork out with my teeth and pour the potion down, choking on the last half as my body twists and snaps back into its proper shape, jagged bone cutting through flesh, settling back together like a lego set as everything starts to knit back together. It's almost as bad as having them broken in the first place, but as fast as it starts, it stops, and I’m left gasping for breath, the vial dropping from my hand to clatter to the floor.

My head somewhat clearing, I take stock of my situation. Testing my arm and leg, I find my broken bones are healed, but the limbs are still covered in deep bleeding lacerations and harsh purple bruises. My vision spins if I move too fast, but at least I can walk now. Kind of.

Hobbling over to the chest, which is still mostly intact, I open it, rummaging around for bandages and salve to treat the deeper cuts on my arm and leg. I do my best to clean and warp the injuries, biting back tears and gasps of pain as I lather the deep cuts with the salve.

Some of them need stitches, and that's far beyond my means, so I wrap them tight and hope for the best. Worst comes to worst, I’ll find what I need in the woods to make a few more health potions.

I finish the task with a sigh, tying off the last strip of bandage and leaning against the half-shattered wall, and feeling the tension flow out of me in a nausea-inducing wave, my mind suddenly blank.

What just happened? The memories are a hazy blur, like trying to catch thin whisps of smoke with my shaky hands. The feel of rough lips against mine, the sight of rainbow feathers shimmering, and the trickle of warm blood flicker through my mind, leaving me dizzy and uncertain.

The last of the pain ebbs away thanks to the salve, leaving little more than a mild headache in its wake, but hot tears still sting the corners of my eyes, and I fight them on reflex. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, I tell myself repeatedly, biting the inside of my cheek, eyes locked open against the tears that force their way out with a choked sob despite my best efforts.

My hands rise to the sides of my head and turn to fists in my hair as I hunch forward and scream, forcing out all the anger, frustration, and fear in one prolonged shriek until my throat is raw and all I have left is burning tear track staining my cheeks.

Then I puke for the second time.

“Fuck,” I say, wiping tears from my eyes and bile from my lips. “What the fuck am I doing?”

Taking a deep breath and then letting it out, I do my best to center myself and focus. Right, survival situation all over again, but this time at least I can face it somewhat prepared. Taking one last minute to close my eyes and breath, I stare at the sky.

“I’ll find you,” I whisper, then get to work searching for everything I might need to survive.

Slowly picking my way through the rubble, careful not to bring the rest of the house down around me, I manage to salvage a large pack, several books, including the one on herblore and potion crafting, the bow and quiver, several arrows, the kettle, cauldron, and tinderbox, about a week's worth of dried foodstuffs, and a pair of waterskins. Sadly the herbs I prepared before are damaged beyond all practical use.

Treating every object with care, I pad it all with a blanket and a spare change of clothes, sling the pack over my shoulders, and carefully pick my way out of the broken house. At the edge of the clearing, I pause and turn back to gaze over the place I’d come to love in so short a time.

It wasn’t much, but I will miss it. A wolf howls in the distance, and I smile, a bittersweet thing, then turn my back on the grove, marching into the dark woods, the only question in my mind being, where the fuck am I going?