By Eric Kao

Emil crept through the bushes, keeping his head low, though the smell of smoke still stung his nostrils. Fear always made the smell worse. Ahead, the sacred stone nestled in the ground and Emil squinted at the sky. Only birds, no dragons. But burn scars marked the past agony of the trees. The old smell of smoke, long faded from this area, inundated Emil. He brushed down his left arm, tracing over his charred skin. He didn’t need burn scars to remember. His fingers slid over the flat of the blade along his forearm, reassuring himself that it was there.  

Dural crawled up beside him and hissed when he spotted the stone. He elbowed Emil in the ribs. “You’re up.”  

The sacred stone huddled in the earth uncovered, the trees and bushes cleared in a swath around it. A hero. A triumphant return. He’d hold it aloft to the cheers of his people. Emil waved Dural in front of him. “Go ahead, I’ll cover you.” Emil shimmied further into the bush, pulling a branch lower to better cover his face. Next time, he’d do it.   

Dural chopped his blade through the branch. “You turn eighteen tomorrow. Would it kill ya to be a man a day early?” 

“You know I would go, but it’s a big day for me tomorrow. Don’t want to get hurt. You understand.”  

“I got my first stone when I was fifteen.”  

“And I thank you. Truly, on behalf of the village”—Emil retrieved the fallen branch and ceremoniously tapped Dural on each shoulder—“thank you.”  

Dural swatted the branch away with a laugh. “Emil, come on.” His smile faded and he leaned in. “People will think, well, you know.”  

“I know.” Emil turned back to the stone. The sky was clear. No danger in sight. “It’s just, uh, my back. Killing me, you have no idea.”  

“Hours in the forest and this is the first ya mention it.” 

“I try to keep a brave face on.”  

“A brave—?” Dural slammed his short sword back into its sheath. “Fine. Once again, I’ll grab it.”  

Dural shoved his way out of the bush, the leaves rustling through the silence. Emil checked the sky again. His grip tightened around the branch, his leafy scepter. Acrid smoke burned his nose and heat flushed through his body. Dural hunched down and crept to the stone. It was roughly half his height and large enough that he couldn’t wrap his arms completely around it. Emil held his breath and toyed with the hilt of his hidden blade. There was nothing here, he wasn’t in danger. Sweat trickled down his forehead and stung his eyes.  

Dural darted forward and heaved the stone out of the slight indention in the ground. He scurried back, the large stone propped up on his shoulder. Emil waved him back, his eyes switching between Dural and the sky. Dural plunged back into the cover of the bushes and rested the stone on the ground. In the trees above them, a few birds sang, a squirrel chittered, leaves floated to the ground. Emil grinned and Dural let out an explosive exhale.  

Emil knighted Dural with the branch once again. “Excellent work, my good man.” He dropped the branch and his fingers inched towards the stone. “Why don’t I carry this for you, give you a rest, huh?”  

Dural slapped his hands away. “And take credit for the haul? I’m good, thanks.” He picked up the large stone and nestled it between his body and right arm. He patted Emil on the back with his free hand. “Besides, we don’t wanna hurt that little back of yours, do we?”  

Emil sprung forward. “Oh, I’m feeling much better, much better indeed!” His heart calmed as he led the way back through the forest. With the stone safely tucked under Dural’s arm, the stench of smoke and fear receded. They strolled through the forest until the village popped into sight. 

A shadow enveloped them for a brief moment and Emil lazily tilted his head to peek through the treetops. His legs gave way in anticipation of the sensory assault, like lightning striking but in reverse. First, the burning smell; then, the thunderous roar; and only then, the flash of light. The tongue of flame blazed from the dragon’s mouth and licked the leaves from the trees. Ash swirled down like rain.  

They sprinted through the forest towards the screams wafting from the village. Emil and Dural broke from the trees as the dragon swept down again and raked the rooves with fire. A team of four men hauled a stone into a catapult. They cranked the arm back as the dragon dove towards it. The stone hurtled through the air and smashed into the dragon’s chest. A roar shattered the sky and the dragon careened to the ground. It fell into the catapult, reducing it to fragments.   

The men, like ants, scurried onto the dragon while it lay stunned. A moment later, it reared up and shook them off. Two men shot off from its back, each arcing through the air over ten feet before tumbling across the dirt. The dragon pinned another man down under its claws and growled, exposing its teeth, polished from fire. 

Dural screamed and drew his sword. Emil restrained Dural’s arm, but he wrenched himself free. The sacred stone lay forgotten at their feet. Dural charged and the dragon whipped its tail towards him. He ducked and pulled his father free of the dragon’s talons. Emil flung out his arm. 

“Look out!”  

The dragon whipped its head towards them and Dural spun, his sword tearing a wide arc through the space around him. Emil took two steps forward, his eyes trained not on the dragon’s head, but its claws as they raked towards Dural’s exposed back.  

“Behind you!”  

Dural turned his neck just as the claws carved through his back. He flew forward, blood arcing through the air behind him, as if it propelled him. Skin and muscle were pared away, exposing a brief flash of white. He landed on the ground without a scream, heaving silently like a gutted fish whose gills coughed blood.  

Emil’s chest constricted. The buildings burned around him, while groans of the injured rose up like smoke to cloud the perfect sky. His ears registered the coordinated commands of another catapult team. Dural’s right hand partially opened and closed over and over, like he was reaching for something. Or maybe he was trying to hold on to something. Or was it just the senseless movements of a dying man?  

A crash rang out and the dragon roared in pain, startling Emil from his reverie. He lifted the sacred stone to his shoulder. Always so light. The few times he’d picked one up, they always surprised him with how light they felt. He ran to Dural, the stone’s innards sloshing and making his rescue appear drunken.  

More commands in the background. Another team preparing a projectile. Emil stumbled down to Dural’s side. Dural’s father cradled his head and rocked back and forth, a father lulling his child to peace. Emil slammed the stone down and drew his knife. He plunged it into the stone and wrenched it out. Amber ichor coated his blade and wept from the stab wound in the stone. Emil’s hands shook as he guided the blade to Dural’s wounds. They gaped at him, spurting blood in a sickly but weakening stream. Dural’s chest no longer heaved. It hiccupped in shallow breaths, far too quickly.  

Emil wiped the flat of the blade across one of the gashes, transferring the ichor into the wound. It was too big. He’d never seen such grave injuries. Too much.  

He stabbed the knife in over and over, applying the thick fluid to the two deep crevices running through Dural’s back. Dural’s father rocked and his lips moved silently. He stared blankly ahead and lightly stroked his son’s hair.  

Emil pushed the flesh of Dural’s back into place, closing the ridges. Ichor oozed from the rifts. Some blood thinned the ichor and tainted it red. The sweet aroma of the fluid mixed with the copper scent that bit at the back of Emil’s throat. Above it all, under it all, all around everything—the smell of smoke.  

Emil pressed into Dural’s back hard enough to feel his heart beat. The frantic galloping slowed to a calmer pace. Dural’s breathing deepened and his father rocked in sync with the breath cycle. A gust of wind swept through as the dragon launched into the air. A shadow passed over them for an instant.  

The dragon disappeared into the distance. Smoke lingered throughout the village, a blanket making it hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to live. Emil stared down at his hands, caked in Dural’s blood. He clenched his fists, the dried blood cracking around the creases of his knuckles. One day. One day, he’d wreak such destruction, too. This fear, the dragon would know.  

The smoke gradually dissipated. The smell lingered.  

***

The villagers gathered in the middle of town, surrounded by scorched buildings. The destroyed catapult lay in fragments and Emil strode in front of it, his head high. Let them see. He, who had saved Dural; he, who would save them all—here, in front of the kindling of their old savior. He would not be so easily broken. He kicked a piece of wood to the side and placed one foot on a beam. Heroic, no doubt. Perfect for when all eyes turned to him. 

Arvaughn stepped onto the platform in the center, his robes soiled with ash. His raised his wooden staff, always in his hand and painted red. “Hear me. We’ve suffered greatly at the dragon’s flames. Long ago, we sacrificed. Long ago, we suffered more than we ever have and by our own hands. That loss, that sacrifice, finally comes to fruition tomorrow.” 

Emil dusted a fleck of ash from his pant leg.  

Arvaughn thrust his staff towards Emil. “The Chosen awakens tomorrow!” All eyes turned to Emil and he straightened up, puffing out his chest. Arvaughn rapped his staff against the platform. “At last, at long last, he becomes a man.”  

Emil deflated slightly and cleared his throat. Heroic, he should do something to scour the doubt from their minds. He drew his dagger from its hiding place along his left forearm and held it aloft. The blade, as long as a hand, gleamed. Kinda. Silence stretched and a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. Was anyone going to say anything?  

Arvaughn’s sigh broke the silence. “Very well. Chosen one—every man, woman, and child in this village turns to you. Will you fight for this people?”  

Emil swiped his dagger through the air. “Fear not! Today, we burned. For the last time, we burned.” He stabbed towards the horizon. “But tomorrow, the dragon will be the one who burns. I, Emil the Fire Lord, promise.”  

Arvaughn stepped from the platform and limped to Emil. “We have burned, none more than you. Baptized in the flames, Fire accepted you, one with no father, as its own son.” 

Emil held up a hand. “Village leader, trust in me. The dragon’s fire will be no match for my own. All of you, put your faith in me.” He retrieved a fragment of the catapult. “Gather here tomorrow and witness. I’ll burn this—for we’ll no longer need it.”  

Murmuring broke out from the crowd. Aidan emerged from the midst and grabbed Emil’s hand, still wrapped around the splintered wood, in an iron grip. Emil’s hand loosened in uncertainty. Aidan stepped forward, his breath hot on Emil’s face.  

“I held my son today as he bled away. As our homes burned, I held my dying son.” Aidan turned to the crowd, keeping his grip on the wood. “But my son did not die. Emil saved him, healed him with the blessing of a sacred stone he had brought for the village.” Aidan thrust his hand and Emil’s overhead, holding the fragment aloft. “He saved him from the dragon’s destruction! Tomorrow will come, but our savior—is already here!” 

The crowd erupted into cheers and poured around Emil. The clamor drowned out his laughter. A hero. His grip tightened around the shaft and he thrust it into the sky once more. Tomorrow, he’d burn.  

***

Emil slipped into bed, cold without a blanket, but he couldn’t risk it. If he dreamed about that time, if he got tangled in the blanket, if he felt the restriction… 

His right hand brushed the flat of the blade along his forearm and shook his head. He wasn’t a child. He grabbed a blanket and lightly drew it over himself. He could always cut himself free. If tied up in the blanket, he could free himself. Not like when—no. He pushed the thought from his mind. Sleep. Just rest, tomorrow would be a big day. The world faded away. A scream echoed through his head, the smell of smoke. The dream of the old memory reeled his troubled mind in.  

Two wooden beams jutted up from the ground in the center of the village. Emil and Drew pretended they were stone towers to hide behind, a shelter from the dragon’s fire. Sticks rested around the base of each beam, perfect as their arsenal of swords to vanquish the dragon. They took turns playing the captain, coordinating the epic battle against the dragon. Over and over, they defeated it in increasingly fantastical battles. 

When Emil arrived home, Arvaughn was still in the living room. Finishing the weekly meeting he and Emil’s mom always did. Emil skirted around him and scurried to his room before Arvaughn could lecture him as he often did. Always harder on him than the other boys, so unfair, just because he had no dad.  

Emil’s mother took him back to the village center after supper. The whole village was there. The beams had ropes around them, something he didn’t think much of at the time. Like how quiet his mother had been that day.  

Drew already stood with his back against the beam, grinning. Arvaughn motioned Emil to the other beam. His mother’s grip on his arm hurt. Arvaughn talked to her about stuff, adult stuff. Why didn’t she let him go? Drew got to be in the center, it wasn’t fair. His mother’s grip loosened for a moment and Emil tore free. He jumped to the beam and exchanged a laugh with Drew. All eyes were on them. From where he stood, the skeletons of the burned houses filled his view. The attack had ravaged their village, worse than usual.  

Arvaughn called him and Drew heroes. Chosen ones. He and another man stepped behind Emil and Drew. They asked them to clasp their hands behind themselves around the beam. Drew did it without question, but Emil hesitated. He’d never seen his mom cry.  

Arvaughn stepped in front of him, obscuring his view of her. He pulled a stick from the pile around the beam. A sword for a hero. Emil would be a hero if he held that sword behind his back. Maybe that would make her stop crying. Yes, he’d be a hero for his mother. 

He didn’t expect the ropes. Tight around his wrists, too tight! They hurt and he dropped the stick. He struggled, but the ropes held his wrists taut. He couldn’t get free! Ropes around his stomach, his chest, his legs. Drew told him to stop being a baby.  

Emil didn’t care about being a hero anymore, he wanted his mom to hug him. He wanted to go home. All eyes on him. Arvaughn lit the kindling at his feet.  

Burning like knives stabbing into his legs. Smoke curled into his nostrils, the smell of burned flesh. His and Drew’s. He couldn’t get free. His wrists bound, he couldn’t get free. Drew screamed and screamed. The smoke forced its way into his lungs and he coughed violently, interrupting his cries for help. Drew stopped screaming. Couldn’t breathe, no air. Only pain. Smoke filled his body, blackness into his mind. The last things he remembered were the pain of burning, the shame. Ropes tight around his wrists. The taste of smoke.  

Emil jolted awake, his body bound. He thrashed and the restraints tightened further. Panic gripped him and he twisted his left forearm. His blade caught purchase and he sliced through the blanket. He kicked his legs free and the blanket fluttered to the ground. The ceiling, dim from the moon’s light, loomed above him.  

A dream, just a dream. He sat on the edge of the bed, his body covered in sweat. The dream. He picked the gutted blanket up. A gash ran through the center, a bloodless wound. His hands shook and he gripped the blanket harder, breathing deeply. His body cooled rapidly in the night air. His wrists were freed of their restraints, but he could still smell the smoke.  

His legs carried him, with little need for light, to the small table next to the bed. Some sparks in the darkness, but nothing. He snorted and his grip on the flint tightened. One more night. This last night, fire would defy him. Yes, tonight would be the last night it haunted him. The wick caught and the flame blossomed. Of course it did, he was Chosen. He’d sacrificed and Fire had blessed him, spared him.  

Drew would have been eighteen already.   

Emil retrieved thread and a needle and set to work mending the blanket. The repetitive movement set his mind to ease. The oppressive fear finally faded as he closed the wound. Another wound! His fingers twitched with the memory of Dural’s breathe easing and he smiled. This time, he’d saved his friend. He finished mending the blanket and placed it under his bed. The candle flickered, as if it’d buck its mount, the wick, and ride free along the wooden walls. The Fire Lord, well, let him start tonight! Emil chuckled and blew the flame out, extinguishing its hopes of freedom.  

In the darkness, the smoke curled from the wick. He could smell it. 

***

Emil stood next to the catapult’s ruins, the villagers ringed around him at a safe distance. His mother and sister waited beside him. He’d ask them to move back before he started. A couple feet, maybe more. Who knew how powerful his fire would be?  

For the occasion, his mother had put on her finest clothes. She’d mended the holes in her tunic so that the frail garment, which once exposed peeks of her ribs, now only betrayed her gaunt frame with her movements. She stroked Emil’s face. “We’ve sacrificed so much and we’re finally here, Fire willing.” Her other hand unconsciously brushed the old piece of charred wood that hung around her neck at all times. At the contact, she winced as if it still burned, though it’d cooled almost five years ago. 

Emil squeezed the stick he’d retrieved from the rubble. It was the perfect size, as long as his forearm. A torch to light the way. He pulled his mother’s hand from her necklace and placed it on his stick. She wouldn’t have to wear that thing after today. She wouldn’t have to worry. Her eyes wouldn’t be so haunted, so guilty every time she looked at him.  

“I’ll light this for everyone to see. I’ll lead the raid to slay the dragon finally.”  

His mother smiled, warming his body.  

Ellie bounced over and snatched the stick from them. She twirled and sliced it through the air several times. “Will you really do it, Emmy? Will you really be able to summon fire and kill the dragon and lead the village?” Her brown eyes shone clearly, so different than his eyes, always bloodshot.  

He caught a wild swing, the wood smacking into his palm, and grinned. “You bet. When you were just a little kid, Fire spared me from death. Now, I’ll—”  

“That’s why your skin is all browned!”  

His mother tsked. “Ellie!”  

Emil chuckled. “Yeah, I got crisped pretty good. But when I died from the fire, Fire itself blessed me.” He slid the stick from Ellie’s grip and tapped the end to his temple. “Now, I’ll be able to use that blessing.”  

Ellie pulled her own necklace from under her tunic, a smaller piece of charred wood. Holes peppered the length of the stick. She raised it to her lips and released a plume of music that lilted over their heads.  

Their mother gasped. “Ellie! What did you do?” She reached for the sacred symbol of Emil’s sacrifice, now a wooden flute, and Ellie edged back behind Emil. He laughed and put an arm around her. 

Arvaughn limped towards them and a hush fell over the crowd. The morning sun burned down on his painted staff making it gleam blood-red. “Emil. It is time. We turn to you.”   

Emil nudged his sister towards the crowd. His mother squeezed his hand and guided Ellie back. Emil thrust the stick overhead, willing it to erupt into flames.  

All eyes turned to the stick and the air hung heavy with anticipation. The silence dragged on and sweat broke out along Emil’s forehead. Fire!  

The stick coolly stared down at the crowd and his hand sunk under its heavy defiance. 

Come on, burn! 

Emil’s knuckles whitened. Why wasn’t it working? He’d been blessed, there was no doubt. He had paid the price!  

Emil closed his eyes and the flames danced behind his eyelids. Phantom prickling down his legs. Bound and burning. Smoke forcing its way inside him, filling his lungs, the cavities of his skull. Heat bubbled up from his stomach.  

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Shouts of joy, of awe, of hope.  

“It’s burning!” 

“He’s really doing it!” 

Emil opened his eyes. Smoke billowed from the stick and he stabbed it into the sky. Cheers erupted and he paced back and forth, waving the totem high above him. “Hear me! I, Emil the Fire Lord, have risen from the ashes.” The smoke thickened and applause rang out. “I will lead our people to the dragon—and there will be fire!”  

The applause and cheers thinned. An undercurrent of murmuring trickled through and several pointed towards the stick. Emil lowered it to the crowd. Many in the front cringed back, though a few leaned forward, their eyes tracing along its length.  

“You’re scared. I know. Believe me, I understand. I’ve been scared most of my life. Of the dragon, of fire, of course. But of little things, too. Frogs that croak too loudly. I don’t sleep with a blanket most nights because I’m scared of getting wrapped up in it.”  

A hush fell over the crowd. Emil smiled to himself. Before, he’d never dream of such candor, such exposure. But let them see him! See that he, too, was human. Just yesterday, a scared boy. Now a man. No, a hero! 

Smoke plumed from the stick, the air over their heads thick. Sporadic coughing broke out. Arvaughn, his face twisted into a frown, limped forward, and outstretched his hand to the stick. Emil whipped it back with a chuckle.  

“Careful! As I was saying, I know your fear. By the blazes! Even yesterday, I wasn’t the one who got the sacred stone. Dural did it, I was too scared! I—” 

More coughing sputtered from the crowd. Arvaughn waved a hand, his robes fanning smoke from his face. Emil raised the stick up to direct the smoke away from the crowd and keep from burning the village leader. Emil caught a glimpse of the stick. 

No… 

He frantically lowered it in front of his face. A moment later, Arvaughn wrenched it from his hand. No fire burned him, no heat blistered his skin.  

Smoke curled into the sky—not from the tip of a burning stick, but from Emil’s hand, itself. His insides froze. It couldn’t be. A breeze swept through the village and cleared the air. All eyes on him. All eyes on his hand, empty of wood, empty of fire. A tendril of smoke wafted up.  

But he’d paid the price. Fire had burned him, burned his life away. Fire had killed him and fire had blessed him.  

Gradually, the crowd and the smoke dissipated. Emil stood alone, surrounded by the rubble of the catapult. Burned buildings stared down at him from all angles around the village center with accusing, skeletal eyes. The hope of the village snuffed out with a single breath.  

He, the wick they had lit to light the way, burned only with shame. No fire was within him. A tendril of smoke curled from his head. 

He could smell it. 

***

Emil kept his head down as he walked the dirt street. Hatred was such a sharp expression, a face pinched into a fine point and directed at another. But disappointment. That was much duller. Eyes, once bright with hope, now like coals long-faded. He couldn’t stand that look, now everywhere—at the butcher, in the village center, at home… Only two people didn’t have that look.  

The bubbling notes of a flute cut through Emil’s wallowing. Ellie traipsed behind him, cheerful as ever.  

“Ellie, stop!” Emil whipped his arm through the air and the music stumbled. He dropped his arm. “Just stop.”  

She lowered the flute. “It’s the song of the mice. I have to play it so they know it’s morning!”  

“They have eyes.” How could she always be so chipper? Innocent, he’d been that way once too. Nothing to fear, not a care in the world. He’d been just a little older than her when he’d learned the truth of the world.  

She laughed. “I know! But—”  

A roar rose up from the distance, echoing down from the mountains. Another roar, higher in timbre, met it and the sounds intertwined. Emil cringed and faced the mountain range. The dragon and its mate. Far away in their nest, yet still always on their minds. Tendrils of smoke rose from his back and shoulders, like vines just breaking the ground.  

Ellie squeezed Emil’s hand. The roars faded, but Emil stayed rooted. Ellie leaned against him. “I play for me, too.” Her voice, normally always floating to the sky, drooped to the ground. Like his voice. Like everyone’s in the village. Where had it gone, that soaring tone? He squeezed her hand back. 

“I like your music, too.”  

She smiled. “I know my music might not do anything. But it comes from me. It’s all I can offer the mice! Even if it’s not good or doesn’t do nothing or annoys them, I’ll give it anyway.” Her voice lilted all the way up to his ears. 

Emil dropped to one knee and hugged her close. “It does something.” Her arms tightened around his neck and a note hooted out. He laughed and hugged her tighter. He’d been about her age… 

Emil stepped into the hut and blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness. He padded up the stairs to the loft. For the first time since the attack, Dural sat up. A rolling melody circled around the hut. Ellie playing for the mice, no doubt. Dural waved Emil over and patted on the cot, next to him.  

“Lo, Emil!” Dural moved slowly, but crisply. His eyes shone.  

Emil plopped down and Dural winced. “Agh, sorry!” Emil pulled a horn of mead from his tunic and waved it in front of Dural’s face. “Something to take the edge off?”  

They took turns swigging from the rare treat. Dural jerked his chin to the wall where a blanket hung over a hole. “Let some light in, would ya?”  

Emil peeled back the blanket and light streamed in. The loft overlooked the village center where several men broke down the catapult. They struggled with the beam that made its arm. Ropes wrapped around the tip and the team heaved it from its resting spot. The bottom caught purchase on the ground and the whole structure rose up in defiance. A large crack ran down the center and loomed over them, as if it were proud of its injury. Of its failure. Emil drummed his fingers over the hilt of his dagger over and over.  

Dural hobbled to his side and gingerly placed an arm around his shoulders. “I’m alive, thanks to you.”  

Emil nodded.  

Dural nudged Emil in the ribs. “All the ladies of the village thank you, too.”  

Emil chuckled despite himself. The beam rose until it stood on its end like a mast. Dural guided them back to the cot. “I was thinking, your smoking could do some useful things. Cloud an area. We’d be able to get sacred stones easier.”  

“So we just gather stones, sell them for whatever we can? All the while, the dragon kills our friends and family.” 

“It’s not your fault.”  

“I thought… I’d be able to fight. Do something. I thought it wouldn’t be able to hurt me anymore.”  

Dural stood and threw his tunic to the ground. He turned his back to Emil, displaying his injury. Two thick scars jutted down the length of his back, still red along the edges. How could he stand so? He, like the catapult, had failed. How could he display his failure so brazenly to the world?  

“You did something, Emil. And I won’t forget. I’ll walk around naked every day if I have to so everyone remembers.”  

Emil snorted and tossed his tunic back. “And lose the gratitude of the ladies so quickly?” 

Dural grinned. “It’s for them that I would do it.” He pulled his tunic over his head. In the village center, the men gathered the rest of the catapult. Music wafted from outside the wall of the hut.  

Dural pulled his short sword out from under the cot and honed the edge in long strokes with his whetstone. Emil stopped his hand. “Don’t you think that’s a little soon?”  

Dural’s fingers tightened around the stone. “We won’t have to scavenge stones forever.” 

“Can’t grow anything with the dragon burning our fields.”  

Dural pulled his hand free and resumed sharpening his sword. “A man passed through the village a few weeks ago. Heading for the mountains.”  

“The mountains?”  

“For the dragon’s nest.”  

Emil squatted into Dural’s line of sight. “You’re not serious.”  

“Been thinkin’ bout him ever since. Something he said.”  

“He’ll be killed. Probably dead already.”  

“Did you know that a dragon’s heart holds power? That’s what he told me.”  

Emil popped up and took a pull of the horn. “Good for them! And I say, let those hearts pump in peace.”  

Dural tossed the whetstone to the side and caught Emil’s arm. “They pump magic through their blood. The ability to negate an element. From their first heartbeat, still unborn, they’re infused with resistance to fire.” 

“Well, it’s good to know even if I did control fire, I’d still be screwed. You know, you’re a real treat today.”  

Dural jumped to his feet and wobbled, his grip on Emil turning urgent. Emil steadied him and eyed Dural’s newly sharpened sword, waving about. “Emil, those who bathe in blood pumped directly from a dragon’s heart gain its power! I’ll be healed completely in a few weeks. Come with me! We can slay the female.” 

“Sit down. You’re drunk. Also, clearly not recovered.” Emil pried the sword from Dural’s hand and held it at arms-length. 

Dural leaned heavily on Emil and they stumbled forward. Emil caught the edge of the hole in the wall and Dural caught Emil’s neck.  

“Agh, let go, you idiot! You’r—” 

Smoke sweat from Emil’s feet. Dural sputtered into a coughing fit and hauled himself upright. In the village center, the men leaned the fragments of the catapult around the beam like kindling. Smoke filled the room and Dural shook him. 

“Emil, it’s not… They’re going to burn it to get rid of it. It’s the easiest way, it has to be.”  

Desperate. The village was desperate, just like that time. Even after the fragments were placed in the pile, no torch lit the wood. Sweet music floated through the air as Ellie danced beneath them. She seemed younger than she was, always skipping and laughing. But her growing body betrayed the years. The winter solstice, that’s when she was born. It loomed, only a few weeks away. This year, her transition year to adolescence. A time for rebirth as truly one of the villagers.  

They wouldn’t make her pay, not for his failures. They wouldn’t burn her at the stake in hopes that a true Fire Lord would be born. 

Would they?  

The dragons roared, the pyre loomed, the flute sang.  

It wasn’t possible. No one could kill those things. Ellie’s fingers cavorted along the charred wood. She offered her song to the wind and the mice. Emil’s hand tightened on the sword. 

***

In the dark of night, Emil walked through the woods, away from the village. The outline of the mountains, carved into the night sky, offered him a rough guide onwards. A solitary bellow rang out, sending heat flushing through his body. Smoke curled through the air around him. He re-gripped Dural’s sword and hiked towards the sound.  

A few days to the base of the mountain. A few more, maybe, to scale to the top. He had to hurry, beat the winter storms. He’d wait for the male to go gather food. Then… then what? 

Hours later, he fell asleep with no more answers than he’d left the village with. He dreamed of burning, always burning. Smoke shrouded his body. 

In the light of the afternoon sun, Emil collapsed to his knees at the lake’s edge and dunked his face into the water. Why hadn’t he thought to bring water? The fear of leaving the village had clouded his mind all day. But the fear of staying, of Ellie being tied to the stake on the winter solstice… 

He guzzled several mouthfuls before he laid on his back. Just a few seconds. He’d rest only a moment.  

Emil jolted awake to the loud splash. He rolled to his knees, his right hand on the hilt of his dagger. A hundred feet away, a man, waded up to his waist, smacked the surface of the water. He held a flask in his left and tried to catch the water in it. Over and over, he splashed, contorted the flask, and cursed.  

Emil snuck closer, timing his movements with the man’s efforts. He kept a loose grip on his sword. It was hard to think of cutting a man down who clearly didn’t have the sense to merely dip the flask into the water. Even still, he might be dangerous. Emil ducked behind a bush, now much closer to the man. He needed that flask.   

The man cursed, his voice, even thick with vehemence, sounded melodic. He lacked the density of an older man. Based on his reedy frame and smooth face, he’d be in his twenties or so. He was taller than Emil by a head, but scrawny. If it came to fists, Emil could win, surely.  

Emil tread to the shore directly behind the man and levelled his sword at his back. “I’ll take that flask.”  

The man stopped, hand raised overhead for yet another attempt. He cocked his head and faced Emil. The water spray had made his blue eyes bloodshot. He waded back towards the land, hands and grin spread wide. “Equivocally! An exchange, it is, friend. My flask for your indubitable sword, I’ve no doubt.”  

Emil backed up and the sword tip wavered. So damn heavy! “I’m not giving you this. And stop, not one more step!”  

The man nodded. “Then two it is, friend!” He stepped out of the water and past Emil’s sword, extending the flask outward. “Your chalice, my lord.” Water dripped from the man’s body, streaming down his bare torso.  

Emil snatched the flask and hefted it. Less than half full, what had that fool been doing? The man walked his fingers up the blade of the sword and tapped it erratically a few times with his fingertips. Emil jerked it back and stumbled a step. “What are you doing?”  

The man shook his head and body like a dog, flinging water everywhere. “Why tapping our agreement to life, of course.” He placed a hand over his heart. “It is my most morose code to swap weapons.” 

Weapons? Emil circled away from the man, but the man complemented his movements, until they switched places, Emil’s back to the water. “I’m not giving you my sword.” The man took a step forward. “And I’ll have you know, I-I have power!” Emil hooked the strap of the flask around the scabbard on his belt and gripped the sword with both hands. The man took another step forward and Emil’s back foot entered the water. “Stay back! I don’t want to hurt you.” Smoke steamed from his shoulders, a nervous emanation.  

The man stopped. “Ah, I see you’re the smokiest of bears, mine ursine! Blessed by fire and at the tip of the mountain’s tongue.” He resumed walking forward, forcing Emil back into waist-deep water. “We hide and seek to ride the peak for the same thing, the heart of flame—encore a sun.”  

Emil shook his head and braced his legs. No more! He had the sword here. “Yeah, I’m getting the dragon’s heart. And I don’t need help, if that’s what you were asking.” He stepped forward and brought the sword an inch from the man’s chest.”  

“You misunderstand—or swim, as it were. Or so shall it be.” The man turned partially away and raised a hand overhead. He smacked the lake, sending a plume of water into the air.  

Emil cringed away. That idiot! He turned the blade flat to shove the man aside. The man whipped the back of his other hand into the airborne water with a cry. He slapped it and it flew towards Emil in an unnatural wave. Emil twisted as it crashed into him. He tumbled backwards and lost his footing. The blade flew from his hands and he went under.  

All around him, the water roiled. The flurry stirred up silt and blinded him. He fought to find the bottom. His lungs burned as the water battered him. That feeling. No air, just like that time. Nothing could be worse. No, it couldn’t be worse than burning to death.  

Emil felt the ground under him and kicked up. His head broke the surface and he heaved a breath. Slick metal poked his throat, the blade nestling against the skin of his neck. The man tilted his head. 

“As I said, nay, elucidated, you have my weapon and I’ll take it back now, my soggiest of bears.” 

That feeling. The tearing pain through his arms and legs as his skin blistered and charred. Fire, eating him alive. But nothing could be worse. Nothing worse than the burning in his lungs. Something had killed him, not fire at all.  

Emil unfastened his belt and took a solid grip with his right hand. “Fine. I agree to your terms.”  

“Eh? What’s that you’re bubbling about?”  

“The exchange, friend.” Smoke clouded the air around him. He might not be able to control it that well, but he did have power.  

The sword drew a line of blood from Emil’s throat and the man eyed the smoke. “You, as the dragon, will learn that fire won’t succeed. Cease your smoldering, my cub. My flask. Or your life.”  

Emil raised his arms, his left arm turned inward, blade facing him. His right held the belt, flask and scabbard dangling. Fire wouldn’t kill this man? Emil grinned. At least they had something in common. And he wouldn’t be bound again. Never again.  

Emil slammed the sword away with the flat of the blade along his left forearm. He swung the scabbard into the man’s temple and knocked him down. The man stumbled and disappeared into the water. Emil charged out of the water and slid the scabbard free of his belt. The man popped up and Emil pelted him in the face with the scabbard. The man reeled backwards and Emil stepped onto land. Smoke filled the air around him, hanging over the water’s surface. Coughing emanated and turned to wheezing. The man burst from the black cloud and fell to his hands and knees.  

Emil hovered at a distance. Should he rush forward and try to retrieve his sword? He tensed his legs, eyes trained on the blade. He drew the dagger and rushed forward. The man looked up and laughed, halting Emil in his tracks. Tears streamed down the man’s face as he shook with mirth.  

“An exchange, indeed!” He pushed himself to his feet using the scabbard. “Most equivocal, cub.” The man raised the scabbard and tapped it to his bleeding temple. He winced at the contact, but the wolfish grin returned in an instant. “I gave you my weapon’s container and you returned it in kind. In most kind!”  

Despite himself, Emil chuckled. “Well, it seemed only fair.” In a fit of inspiration, he held the flask up. “Tell you what, I’ll throw down your weapon, if you do the same with mine.”  

The man raised the sword overhead and Emil, even several feet away, shrunk back. “I am, of course, a trusting man who knows not how to lie, save on my side.” The man lowered the sword and tossed it forward. “And now mine, if you please, o black cloud.”  

“Of course.” Emil popped the flask open and poured the water at his feet. “Fair is fair.” It felt underhanded, but he’d already risked enough. To his surprise, the man doubled over in laughter. 

“Excellent! Fair indeed.” He raised the scabbard up. “If I may, another exchange, then.” He tossed the scabbard next to the sword.  

The smoke thinned. The man’s bloodshot eyes stared playfully into Emil’s own bloodshot eyes. A long time ago, had the vessels also exploded in his eyes? Emil tossed the flask onto the ground and the man clapped.  

The man scooped the flask up. “Orion.” He filled the flask up in the lake, this time dunking it in the water like a normal person. “And what pleasurable shape might my lips wrap around in reference to your body?”  

Emil sheathed the sword and looped the scabbard back on his belt. “Uh, Emil.” He paused as he buckled his belt. “You were asking my name, right?”  

Orion waved towards the sky, dark with clouds. “There’s a storm coming.” The ambient temperature dropped and their breath plumed from their mouths. Orion passed Emil and retrieved a sack nestled under a shrub. Food, probably. Emil’s stomach echoed the rumble of the encroaching storm. Orion dropped to one knee and extended the sack up to Emil. “A proposal, nay, a proposition. Meat for heat.”  

“Um, what?” 

Orion rattled the flask. “Wa-wa for warmth.”   

Right, the man thought he could wield fire. Emil accepted the flask and took a sip. “Agreed.” 

***

They hiked up the mountain, beckoned higher by the roars emanating from the sky. Lightning and fire awaited them. And what hope did water and smoke have against these elements of destruction? He’d be an idiot to take one more step. A trail of smoke wisped behind him, haunting every moment he chose to keep moving forward.  

Despite the oppressive fear that caused him to jump at every clap of thunder, the day flew by. Orion’s glib demeanor drew laughter from Emil like water from a well. His voice grew hoarse from the hours of talk. Though exhaustion wracked his body when they stopped to break camp, sleep came hard to him. Could he really sleep with this stranger, only a few hours ago at his sword point, so close? Emil resolved not to let his guard down.  

He awoke to Orion using his scabbard to scratch his back. Emil’s hand flew to his belt, now empty. Orion turned at the rustling and tossed Emil his sword.  

“You’re awake. I can tell because your eyes are open.” Orion tapped his temple with a finger, evidently quite proud of his observation. “You exude when you sleep.”  

Emil strapped his sword back on. “Sorry. Bad dreams, I guess.” A breeze swept down the mountain and Emil wrapped his cloak tighter around him. Too quiet. His pulse quickened. The clouds loomed overhead, heavy and dark.  

Orion forged up the mountain. “We must find shelter before the storms begin. A tavern would be nice, but a cave will do, though I must insist it be dank.” 

Emil scrabbled up after him. “The storms? It’s too early. They shouldn’t hit for another week or two.” He didn’t have time to hunker down for a month. The winter solstice would come right after the winter storms. Ellie didn’t have time for him to sit in a cave.  

Orion raised his face to the heavens. “Halt your precipitating! Get out of here, you clouds! Go away and come another day! Preferably”—he checked Emil’s face—“is a week satisfactory?”—he resumed shouting at the encroaching storm—“in a week!”  

A bolt of lightning split the sky and snow pelted down as the clouds spewed their contents. Orion put a hand on Emil’s shoulder. “How do you feel about dank caves?”  

In the distance, Emil made out the outline of his village. The cold wind swept through him, chilling him to the bone. This much cold, the mice would be burrowing soon. No coaxing could bring them from the safety of their hovels. Only death waited for the warm-blooded in such cold. Emil tore free from Orion and raced up the path. He’d once heard that freezing to death felt like a pleasant warmth. Whether it was by the dragon’s fire or the mountain’s ice, maybe he’d die warm.  

No. 

He couldn’t die. He couldn’t stop. Without her, how would the mice know to dance in the sun? 

Chunks of hail bit into his shoulders, his back. Stinging pain that wouldn’t stop. He slipped and the wind ripped his hood back. The cold gnawed at his face, flecks like gnats swarming his exposed skin. A wiry hand wrapped around his arm and hauled him to his feet. Orion shouted and pointed ahead. An overhang was barely visible through the flurry. They stumbled to shelter under its feeble protection. A waist-high outcropping blocked some of the wind and they squatted down. It barely covered the width of their bodies and they huddled together, Emil practically in Orion’s arms.  

Orion dipped his head and shouted over the howling wind. “Cave!” He pointed back down the path. 

Emil shook his head. Surely, there was a cave higher up. And then another after that. And another. The hail grew, shards raining down and shattering on the ground. He’d never make it, not alone. “Higher!” Anxious smoke poured from him.  

Orion poked Emil’s chest hard enough that it hurt even through the cold. “Fire.” His body shivered against Emil’s. Drops of water bleeding from his arms, legs, and torso froze. He hugged Emil to him desperately. “Warmth.”  

Emil closed his eyes. He’d never make it without someone else. Not with the storms. He pushed back and craned his head to look into Orion’s bloodshot eyes. Emil needed him. He nodded. “Fire. Next cave.” Emil jerked his head upward.  

Orion’s breath frosted in the air, once, twice. He heaved out from the overhang and stumbled up the path. Emil followed as closely as possible in the shelter of Orion’s body. Step by step up the mountain. His fingers turned numb, the only feeling of contact with Orion was the pressure through his shoulder that told him his hand stayed on Orion’s back. Not stayed—pushed.  

The pressure disappeared and Emil fell forward, his clumsy feet barely sensing the path, barely keeping him upright. The wind blasted through him with full force. Orion laid at his feet, most of his body coated with a thin layer of ice. Emil’s arms and legs screamed with pain, the cold lighting his senses ablaze. He took a step past Orion’s unmoving frame. Howling in his ears, all other noise long since drowned out. Yet, the melodic notes of Orion’s voice piped through the back of his mind. A gust of wind cut through him and Orion’s voice crescendoed, as if the wind actually breezed through him. And why? To lull a foolish creature out to the cold? Emil’s arm ached where Orion had grabbed him. Leave him. They’d both die anyway.   

Emil hauled Orion up and dragged him a step forward. Too heavy. Emil tripped and his knee slammed into the ground. He stumbled forward with Orion in tow. A cave. There had to be a cave ahead. He’d told him there would be. Emil took a halting step forward. So heavy, his legs. And in his arms, an unusual burden. That’s right. That man. He was dragging that man. Had dragged him already up here with the promise of fire, of warmth.  

An alcove sprung into view, only visible now that they were within a few feet of it. Emil heaved them into it, the absence of the biting wind, painful. He’d take them as far as possible. His legs collapsed. The cold leached into his body further. He closed his eyes and ice sealed them shut.  

Warmth. He’d promised it. He felt along the ground until his hands dully patted over Orion. Smoke wheezed from his body. Please help him. But no heat radiated from the smoke. Orion coughed weakly, his lungs rejecting the foreign substance. Emil bit back a sob. Worse than useless. 

He collapsed over Orion and the world numbed away. Warmth set into his freezing limbs. He’d die warm. Maybe Orion would feel warm, too. At least, he’d have kept his promise then.  

***

Hands bound, can’t get free. Burning and can’t get free! Emil cut through his binds, his knife tearing through the animal pelt on top of him. He jolted upright, his shadow dancing along the walls of the cave in the light of the fire.  

A fire burned a few feet away, warming his body. Orion laid on the floor on the other side of the fire, covered in layers of pelts. Beside him, an old man sat, a club-like stick across his lap. Emil rolled, pulling his dagger free. Smoke poured from his body, filling the air. The man waved him back down. “Maybe you should sit? Sheath your fear, eh?” 

“My sword, where’ve you taken it?”  

The man gestured to the recesses of the cave with his club. “Somewhere back there, I wonder?” He scratched his head absently. “Or was that something else?” He rose, pushing up with the club, and shuffling around the fire towards Emil. “Are you the Old Goat, Lycous, hermit of these mountains that I’ve heard so many echoes about?”  

Emil kept his knife trained on the man as he approached. Age stooped his frame, though at his peak, he looked no taller than Emil. His skin was black, though not weathered too poorly by age. He had no hair, on his head nor his face nor arms from what Emil could see in the dark, which gave his body a sheen in the firelight. The man’s tattered pants swirled around his legs as he neared Emil.  

“No, I’m Emil. Are you Lycous?”  

The man faced the fire and thrust his club into the center. He whirled back and poked the torch towards Emil’s face. Emil cringed away and smoke plumed from his body.  

“Ah, so you’re the source of this smoke, are you?” The man whipped the torch fast enough to extinguish the flame. Emil peered closer at the old man. He was stronger than he looked. The man held the end of the stick to the floor and traced out a stick figure with a cloud of smoke emanating from the figure’s head. He circled the drawing and made eye contact with Emil. “Well, we have rules, don’t we? Tenets of common decency. You may have wondered, ‘how have I kept myself in such high esteem in this community?’ ” 

“There are others livings here?” 

“Not that I know of, though I know of little, wouldn’t you say?” He tapped the drawing. “The rules, why not?” He drew a diagonal line through the length of the figure, crossing it out. “No smoking inside.”   

Emil flushed and a plume issued from the top of his head. “I’m not doing it on purpose!” The air grew thick with smoke and Orion coughed, twisting restlessly. Lycous twirled his club with tremendous force, fanning the smoke away from himself. He raised the club overhead and jumped forward. Emil fell back with a shout as Lycous brought the club down towards his face. It stopped an inch from the crown of his head and Emil’s hair danced in the resulting breeze.  

“Want to smoke? Outside is better, don’t you think?” 

“I’ll die out there.” 

“Have you come for the dragon’s heart?” 

Emil opened and closed his mouth. Lycous rapped him on the head.   

“Are you content to die by storm or dragon?” 

“No, I—”  

“Are you trying to kill all of us as well?” Lycous hit him again and pain shot through his scalp and down his neck. 

“Stop! I don—” 

“Will you burn to death or freeze to death, boy?”  

Lycous hefted the club back and Emil batted it away. “I can’t control the smoke!” His words echoed through the cave, carrying his failure through the mountain.  

Orion’s voice peeked out from behind Lycous. “So it is as I suspected. You are not of fire.” Lycous stepped to the side, revealing Orion sitting up hunched under the cloud of smoke. 

Emil dropped his gaze. His head hurt, but guilt clawed at his stomach more. How could he look Orion in the eyes? Those bloodshot eyes, like his own, evidence of being sacrificed. And now he was no better than the people who had bound his wrists, who had burned him in offering, who had watched him die. Desperate, he had been so desperate. Bitterness coated his tongue.  

Orion sat down with a thud in front of Emil and slapped his legs. “It is as I said, nay, elucidated, nay, coronated!” He pointed a finger at Emil and leaned forward until he poked him in the nose. “You are the smokiest of bears.”  

That lilting tone, melodic, playful, music to Emil’s ears. He raised his face and Orion’s right eyebrow cocked and the right side of his mouth curled into a smirk. Orion dipped his head slightly in faux reverence and Emil choked out a chuckle. Warmth bubbled up through his body. 

Lycous nudged Emil with the club. “Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it, boy?”  

Emil peered at the hermit and Lycous gestured upward. The smoke thinned and the shadows, once again visible, danced on the walls. A draft from the cave pulled the smoke away and Orion pushed to his feet, standing at his full height. He inhaled the clean air and smiled, before offering his hand to Emil. His long fingers wrapped around Emil’s and tingling played up Emil’s arm. Static from the thunderstorms still raging outside, probably.  

Lycous faded into the darkness and returned a few moments later with Orion’s flask and Emil’s sword. He lifted the sword with a shake of his head. “You seek the dragon’s heart, then? Haven’t I seen many who wish to pump that poor beast’s courage into their bodies because their own heart has none?”  

Emil drummed the hilt of his dagger and reached for the sword. “It’s not courage, it’s power. The power to be immune to fire. To kill it.” 

“You think bathing in dragon’s blood makes you immune to fire? It merely extinguishes whatever power is being used at the moment of contact.” Lycous pulled the sword back and hefted the flask. “And even if it is as you say, would you truly be willing to put your faith in another’s power?” 

Emil snatched his sword. Only an idiot would try to take on the dragon with their bare hands. Even if he mastered smoke, what could he do? This crazy hermit—Old Goat indeed!—didn’t know what he was talking about. Orion accepted the flask with a slight bow. He sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes. A tendril of water rose from the flask in the shape of a snake. Orion stroked a hand over it and it curled around his arm. He twisted with a shout and the water shot towards the fire. Angry hissing issued as the two elements met and the fire died out, plunging them into darkness.  

Emil clenched the hilt. Water, so much more useful! “Your control. You’ve tamed water so well!”  

Lycous lit the end of his club and Orion’s voice echoed melodically through the cave. “Ah, but only a sip. I’ve had five years to splash about since my power manifested. There are no others with power in my village so the process has dripped by, only a droplet of understanding at a time.” He flicked a drop at Emil. “The winter storms splutter on for a fortnight usually. Together, we might learn much faster.”  

In the torchlight, the smoldering embers coughed smoke. Emil outstretched his hand and the smoke danced. He willed it towards him, but it slipped through his fingers. A shape, he had to give it shape. Something fearsome, like the water snake Orion had summoned. He closed his eyes and formed the image of a hawk, molding the smoke like clay. It wavered, a few wisps forming a body. Yes! A hawk, swooping down, razor talons, grasping its prey. It wasn’t like holding clay, it was far too ethereal. More like speaking, singing even. A controlled intake of air, bending it to his will. He felt it take shape and he beckoned it forth.  

“Is that… a mouse?” Orion asked.  

Emil’s eyes popped open. A smoky mouse, paws paddling through the air, drifted towards him. The image of the hawk flashed through his head. A beak, sharp as a knife; wings, powerful and defiant; claws, deadly—and wrapped around a mouse. No, not wrapped. Holding, cradling, even!  

Lycous roared with laughter. Emil flung his arm towards the old fool and the mouse darted through the air. It rammed, nudged really, into his temple and dissipated with a poof. Lycous howled and doubled over, using his flaming club as a cane. He snorted a breath of the smoke and his laughter devolved into a coughing fit. Served him right.  

Orion squeezed Emil’s shoulder and offered him the flask. “A toast. To your first success!” Emil reached for the flask and Orion pulled it back an inch. “Though if we’re to defeat a dragon, I think we’ll need a lot more mice.” He winked and passed the flask to Emil.  

Emil snorted and took a swig. Orion took the flask back and raised it high. He jerked Emil into his arms and dumped the water on both of their heads. He threw back his head and laughed while Emil bowed his head down and spluttered. The last of the water dribbled out and Emil looked up, meeting Orion’s bloodshot eyes.  

Maybe he really could learn to control smoke. Laughter bubbled out of his chest and soon, the cave was filled with a chorus of joy, of release, of hope. Emil rested his head on Orion’s chest. Together. Maybe they could do it together. 

Emil chuckled. A whole lot of mice indeed. 

***

Fire blazed, cutting a swath through the air towards Emil’s face. He dove to the side and focused. A stream of smoke poured from his back and fanned into large wings. Fire flew towards him and he ducked, his wings evaporating into shapeless mist. He growled and summoned a hawk once again. Another fiery projectile hurtled towards him. He stumbled to the side, but the large stick clipped his ribs and he fell to the ground. His cloak caught fire, the gleam of the blaze filling his vision. Panic rose up in him. Burning, he was burning! He kicked back away from his cloak, his fingers fumbling to free himself. The old screams filled his ears. Wrists bound, he couldn’t get free. Why? Why were they doing this?  

A snake struck him, its cold fangs sinking through the fire and splashing into his back. His cloak hissed and smoke plumed upward, joining the haze around his head. He laid on the ground, chest heaving as the memories fizzled away.  

Failure. Again. He pounded the ground. Why wouldn’t the smoke obey him? A week of practice and still he couldn’t control it.  

Lycous stood by the large fire, two flaming sticks in his hands. He thrust one of them back into the fire and swiped the other through the air. Its flame extinguished from the powerful blow and Emil cringed back. That Old Goat, he was much stronger than he looked! He could launch a stick, his flaming javelins, with extreme speed and accuracy to any part of the cave. Lycous turned the smoking club downward and caned across the cave. 

“Too scared of the fearsome dragon, eh?” He cackled and leaned on his club.  

Smoke steamed from Emil’s shoulders. He flung an arm out and the tendril of smoke emanating from the club wound up the stick like a snake. It struck Lycous in the face and he erupted in a coughing fit. The old man doubled over and fanned a hand in front of his face.  

Really? Attack the old man who was sheltering and training him? Emil hurried over and patted him on the back.  

Orion burst out laughing. “Oho! A snake.” He bounced over and offered the flask to Lycous. The Old Goat snatched it and Orion winked at Emil. “Might I have influenced you, mine serpentine?”  

Emil flushed and grinned. His guilt ebbed, washed away by Orion’s bloodshot blue eyes. “It’s a good form for smoke, very natural.”  

Lycous straightened up and rapped Emil in the chest with his club, leaving a soot stain. “Still prey, isn’t it though? Even without fire, your fear lights your mind, does it not?”  

Emil knocked the staff away. “A snake isn’t prey, it eats rodents and, well, other stuff, I think.” 

“And what you tried to summon?”  

The hawk flashed through his mind. Emil floundered for a response. An unusual clarity shone through Lycous’ eyes. “The fire clouds your mind. But you must fight fire with fire. What do you fear more than the flame?” Lycous handed Emil the flask. “Your control has improved greatly in the last week. But to fight a dragon, you need to tame more than the smoke. You need to tame yourself.” He turned and tapped back to the fire. “Rest for a bit. We’ll resume after lunch.”  

Emil stepped towards Lycous, but Orion halted him with a slender hand. “Come, let’s refill the water.” He led them to a pot resting inside the entrance of the cave. The only good thing about the storms. Water was never in short supply. Emil splashed his face and sighed. Orion dunked the flask in the pot. “You’re stronger than me.”  

Emil snorted. “I appreciate the effort, but we both know that’s not true.”  

Orion held the flask in front of Emil’s face. “Did you ever wonder why I carry this?”  

“It’s your element, of course.” 

“And yet, you don’t carry tinder on you.” 

“That’s because I produ—” Emil shifted his gaze from the flask to Orion’s skin. It shone, slick with sweat, as it always did. On an impulse, Emil stroked Orion’s cheek. He brought a moistened finger to his mouth and tasted it. No salt. “This water. This is all you produce?” He winced as soon as he said it. He hadn’t meant to sound deprecating.  

Orion smiled sadly. “Not all of us are the smokiest of bears. Or wettest, I suppose. Wateriest?”  

Emil clasped Orion’s hands. “You’re much more controlled than me though! You keep your cool in the face of the flames.” 

Orion chuckled and squeezed Emil’s hands. “Ah, yes, well I have not burned.” He pulled Emil to him and cradled his face. Smoke immediately rose from Emil’s head and he cringed, cursing his poor control. Orion followed the trail upward with his eyes and trickled his long fingers through the smoke with a smile. Did he… like the smoke?   

“One day, you’ll awaken from your slumber, my smoky bear, and this dream of the cave will evaporate in the morning sun. You won’t forget me, will you?”  

Emil turned Orion’s face back to his. “I’ll never forget you.” Smoke danced between their faces, making Orion seem distant. Orion leaned forward, pushing through the smoke, and kissed him. Long wings of smoke folded around them, sheltering them from the world. Darkness in the black cocoon, soundless save the pouring rain.  

***

Emil woke to the faintly falling rain. It was nice. Quiet, gentle. Nothing like the pounding rain that drummed outside the cave for almost two weeks now.  

He jolted upright, wide awake, and ran to the entrance. The rain pattered along the mountain. Had it already been a fortnight? Thunder rumbled in the distance and the rain intensified. The storms, not quite over yet. But soon, the skies would clear. Never had he feared the clarity so much. He tiptoed back to his bedding of pelts and quietly strapped his sword to his belt. Orion’s bedding laid ruffled in a heap, the man out of sight. No doubt, nestled in his cocoon as he often was. Emil squeezed the hilt of his sword. If only they could go together. The last two weeks had been a dream, but he always knew one day he would be violently shaken awake. Only one person could be imbued with the magic of the dragon’s blood.  

He wished… no. His village needed him. Ellie and the mice. He had no hope of slaying the male dragon, even imbued with a resistance to fire. But if he acted as a guardian, if he proved to the village he could protect them; then Ellie wouldn’t have to be…  

He faced the darkness that filled the gullet of the cave where Lycous slept. That Old Goat. Emil’s body ached from training, his arms and legs dotted with burn marks from the cantankerous fool and his surefire aim. Emil slid the sword from its sheath and pointed it into the darkness.  

Thank you. For the food, the shelter, the water. For the bruises, scars, and burn marks.  

Emil filed back to the entrance of the cave, laden with guilt. Here, he betrayed Orion. Here, he left without a single word of thanks to Lycous. Into the storm, through water, through fire. Here, he would save his sister.  

“You leaving without a word, too, eh?”  

Emil spun and drew his sword in one motion. Smoke furled around his body, rapidly forming into wings. Lycous stood a few feet away from him, a club in hand like a cane as always. Emil smiled and shook his head. That Old Goat, sneaking up without a sound, not so much as a tap of his club. He was stronger than he looked. “I have to go.” Emil stepped forward and clasped Lycous’ hand. “Thank you. For everything.” Emil spun back around just before stepping through the mouth of the cave. “Wait, ‘too’?” He glanced at Orion’s sleeping form, covered in pelts. They remained motionless, not even the subtle rise and fall of breathing. He ran over and flung them to the side. Only another two pelts, balled up, rested beneath. “Where’s Orion?”  

Lycous shrugged and gathered the scattered pelts. “Saw him skulking out of here this morning, didn’t I? And would you believe he pilfered some of my food before leaving?” 

“The storms have lessened. He’s probably just out stretching his legs, getting some fresh air.” No trace of Orion remained there. Emil’s lips buzzed. He’d never asked. Why was Orion so desperate to fight the dragon as well?  

Lycous knelt before the pit and soon a fire blossomed. He shook his head in disapproval. “Well, you’re off then, aren’t you? Still bent on stealing the dragon’s power instead of using your own?” A tendril of smoke rose from the fire.  

Emil beckoned the smoke. It curled into a snake and wound up Lycous before coiling back. It bowed its head at the same time Emil did. The smoke drifted away.  

The clouds wept on Emil’s cloak as he hiked up the mountain. Even with the rain, the sun peeked through, lighting the way. In only an hour, he neared the summit. Something white caught his eye, tucked behind a cluster of rocks. He clambered through them to get a better look. A cage made of bone-white bars. One of the walls was hacked through. A chill ran through Emil and he quelled a plume of smoke. Bound here. Someone was bound here, but managed to cut their way free. Had someone they trusted betrayed them? Emil squeezed his eyes shut. And what of him? Two weeks he and Orion had trained. A team to defeat the dragon. By leaving, wasn’t he trapping Orion? Taking the dragon’s heart for himself and leaving Orion behind.   

“You stopped here, too, I see, nay, I observe.”  

Emil jumped and his right hand flew to his dagger. Orion stepped out from behind one of the large stones. They eyed each other, both armed with their weapons. Orion carried a sack on his back in addition to his flask in his hand. He pulled a cut of dried meat out. “Hungry?”  

Emil chuckled weakly and shook his head. Orion turned to the top of the mountain. “Shall we?”  

Emil drew his sword, the blade trembling in his fist. He had come this far. And what of him and Orion? Were they enemies? Only one would get the dragon’s heart. But maybe Orion was right. They’d work together, as planned. If they killed the dragon, they could worry about who got its heart. Maybe they could be allies, even after. A unified force against the male dragon, protecting both of their villages. The trickle of smoke issuing from Emil gradually formed into large wings. Maybe they could be more than allies.  

Emil and Orion crept up the mountain and crested the top. Nestled among the crags, the female dragon laid. She was smaller. Milder. That’s what he’d been told. His wings spread out overhead, shielding him and Orion from sight. As he drew nearer, the sheer size of the dragon weighed on him. She was smaller than the male dragon—but not by much. She rested at the top of a cropping of rocks. A short distance away, a large divot in the ground filled with water formed a temporary lake from the storms. Orion nudged Emil towards the lake and they skirted around it to the base of the rocks, the water at their backs. 

In just a twenty-foot climb to her resting spot, under the cover of smoke, and a sword plunged into her head, this would all be over. Simple.  

Emil sheathed his sword, feeling naked without it in his hand, and grabbed onto the first handhold. His palms sweat and his fingers slid open a fraction. He clung to the rock, his muscles already burning from the tension. Orion prodded him and Emil waved him past. Orion shook his head. He extended his dripping hands, too slippery to climb, and Emil’s heart sank. Alone then. Orion stepped back into the water. Tendrils rose from the lake and wove together, strand by strand. After a minute, a large snake reared up from the crater. Orion nodded to Emil.  

Emil pulled himself up the rock, his legs shaking with each step. Only ten feet away. He grabbed a ledge and a pebble tumbled off. Emil winced and held his breath as it rattled down the slope. The dragon stirred, its scales rubbing against the rim. Debris showered down and Emil hugged himself to the wall. The dragon sniffed and Emil felt the tug against his smoke. He fought to control it, to keep it from being drawn to the dragon. His lungs burned and wisps of smoke bled from his hands.  

He risked a glance upward, peering between his wings. The dragon’s body rested near the top of his ledge now. It shifted, the motion rippling through the length of its body. He prayed for it to settle back to sleep. 

The dragon’s neck rose up, serpentine, and he pressed into the wall as close as possible. She was awake. He’d get one chance. Anything less than a fatal injury and he died. Orion died. Ellie died.  

Emil scaled upwards until he could reach out and touch her armored body. It wasn’t possible. He inched along the rim, moving towards her neck. The dragon groaned, the rumbling from her chest causing the rocks themselves to tremble. Emil clung for dear life and squeezed his eyes shut. The vibrations faded and the dragon folded her head back down to the rocks. Emil drew his sword. His legs screamed from the exertion, his heart beat against the walls of his chest, he heard only the pounding of blood in his ears. Smoke wrapping around his sword, his fear unchecked. He raised it high overhead. 

The dragon inhaled deeply. Emil strained in desperation, willing the smoke to stay steady. A small tendril escaped and disappeared into the dragon’s nostrils. Emil’s wings fractured, fanning into amorphous shape. Now! He had to go now! Emil brought the sword down.  

The dragon contorted, her head twisting around to face him. His sword bit through her scales and cut a deep wound into her neck. She roared and her body thrashed. Her tail lashed outward and Emil ducked back beneath the ledge. The rush of air as it passed over him blew what remained of his wings away. He raised his sword again, bracing himself to jump over the edge. A shadow fell over him. The dragon, eyes burning in rage, snarled, revealing rows of polished teeth. His hair danced in the breeze of her powerful inhalation. Fire blossomed from deep in her throat. The flames filled Emil’s vision. Far, far away, Orion screamed something.  

Smoke billowed from Emil’s body. His grip slipped away and he fell. Flames erupted from the dragon’s mouth and followed him downward. Tattered wings of smoke wrapped around him, the wind tearing holes through them, the fire pushing through them unobstructed. Heat singed his face.  

Water swallowed him, the great water snake accepting him into its body. It hissed as the fire evaporated it away, like a fuse. Emil plunged through the snake and into the lake beside Orion. The snake, already half gone, reared up between them and the dragon. Steam hung in an ominous cloud, thick through the entire area from the stopped attack. Emil pulled down a swath of smoke to hang over the lake and shield them from view. 

Orion nodded in the direction of the nest. “The female isn’t aggressive. I’ve been told she will defend her nest, but she won’t pursue. The male takes care of that.”  

The dragon roared. A crash resounded and the smoke whipped towards them, blasted by the beat of her wings. Emil took an involuntary step back. She rose up through the air. She wasn’t thinking of…?  

“RUN!” 

The dragon dove, piercing the veil in an instant, and honing in on them. She extended her claws out, each talon as long as a sword. Emil and Orion dove apart and the claws raked the surface of the water where they’d stood. The water snake lost form and the column of water flooded back into the lake. Emil lost his footing and fell into the water. 

He floated, suspended for a moment in the serenity.  

She wasn’t supposed to be aggressive.  

He burst out of the water and her roar inundated his senses. She circled back around to her nest. Another, much smaller, dragon popped its head over the lip of the rocks. The female dragon landed and nudged her young back out of sight with her wing. Smoke trickled from Emil. 

So that was it.  

Everyone had something to protect. He tightened his grip on the sword. In this world, there could only be so much life. A dam broke within him and smoke poured out, tumbling from his back in thick ropes. The inquisitive look of the young dragon flashed through his mind. He shoved it away and fanned the smoke into gargantuan wings. There wasn’t enough life to go around. He waded through the water and rejoined Orion. “We can’t kill the female, but maybe we don’t have to.”  

Orion kept his eyes trained on the dragon. Water rose up behind him, weaving together to form the snake. “And what are you propositioning, ursa most major?”  

Emil’s wings flared out and he pointed his sword to the nest. “I’ll distract her. You grab the young one.”  

Orion broke his gaze from the dragon for a moment. Sadness tinged his bloodshot eyes. “Ah. The cage.”  

“What?”  

Orion heaved his clasped hands overhead and snake reared up. He flung his hands wide and the snake’s head split into four smaller heads. Sweat beaded his brow from creating the hydra and he jerked his head to the dragon. “Go. I’ll cover you as best I can.”  

Emil raced to base of the rocks, his wings fanned out into a large screen. He wove, peeking through the smoke. The dragon’s head shot forward, her mouth craned open. Fire blasted towards a section of his screen and he dove to the side. One of the water hydra’s heads darted between the fire and his body. The fire tore through the smoke and the snake evaporated. Emil ran to the base and began his ascent. The dragon screeched and took another deep breath. He followed her eyes and clung to the wall away from where she fixated. A tongue of flame licked through his smoke screen. A hydra’s head slammed into the wall beside him and vaporized to steam, burning his right arm. Only a thin halo of smoke kept him from sight and the dragon oriented to the cloud shielding him. The dragon huffed, visibly taxed from producing the fire.  

Emil clawed up the wall and the dragon reared onto her hind legs, raking her talons through the air. Her landing shook the rock face and he clung for dear life. She pulled a gust of air into her chest. Emil was close enough to feel the pull on his smoke. Rage glinted through her eyes.  

Everyone had something to protect. 

Emil punched his arm towards her and the last of his smoke shot forward, a hawk guided by the wind. It filled her nostrils and she erupted into coughing. Emil scrambled up the wall and onto the cropping of rock. He drew his sword as the dragon thrashed. The young laid in the center, amid a cluster of large rocks. No, not rocks. Too smooth, too oval. Sacred stones, a cluster of them, about half the size of those in the forest.  

The mother leapt between them. Emil summoned more smoke into large talons. He shoved them into her nose, throttling her from the inside. The dragon bellowed and writhed. She kicked into the air away from the smoke and Emil raced to the young. Her wheezing roared in his ears.  

The young, even cowering, was as large as him and much wider. The mother dove back down and Emil rolled out of the way. His smoke talons raked her eyes and nostrils, eliciting another deafening screech. Fire barreled past him several feet away. He stabbed his smoke into her eyes and she reeled back. Emil ran in an arc around her and she whipped her head towards the sound of his footsteps. She blindly snapped in his direction and he dove out of reach.  

He came around behind her, the young once again in his sight. Another blast of flame, too far away to reach him, as he closed in. He gripped his sword with both hands as he sprinted towards the young, bringing the hilt in close to ready a thrust. Powerful wind swirled around him as the mother’s large wings unfurled. If she meant to take to the air again, she’d be too late. He was close enough. The young’s barrel chest, ribs like bowed beams, shuddered before him. The mother clawed at him and he rolled to the side and jumped to his feet.  

Her talons wrapped around her young. No!  

He leapt, thrusting his sword forward. The ground shook from the mother’s powerful leap. His sword passed under the young. The mother glided from the cropping of rocks, down to the base near the water.  

Victory, a moment ago so close, slipped away. Emil stood at the edge of the rocks. The dragon wrapped a wing around her young. Blood wept from the gash in her neck, but she kept her head high. Orion, shoulders sagging, retreated through the water away from the dragon. Water dripped from the hydras and they melted away with every step. The dragon’s head snapped in his direction and fire spiraled from her mouth. The last of the hydras died, hissing into steam. The force of the air blasted Orion back and he shouted as the steam burned his skin raw. His body disappeared below the water. 

Hopeless.  

Emil rushed down the wall. How had they hoped to defeat such a thing? The wall crumbled and he fell the last few feet to the ground. The impact knocked the air out of him and he clawed the ground. His back arched as his brain starved for air. And what of the mice? Would they know its summer ever again?  

Emil pulled a ragged breath into his lungs. He crawled towards the water and Orion burst through the surface. Emil waded in to his side. Their bloodshot eyes met. Emil put a steadying hand around Orion’s waist. “She wasn’t supposed to be aggressive…”  

A far-off roar and the male came into sight on the horizon. Even from the distance, the tongue of flame that issued from his mouth stood out against the sky. Death. Orion leaned heavily on Emil, his body heaving. He pointed towards the young. “Cage.”  

The bone-white cage sprung into Emil’s mind. Evidence of a betrayal, someone hacked their way out. The female screamed and spread her wings. She pushed her young behind her and fixed her gaze on Emil and Orion. Fury, such hatred.  

No, not someone hacking their way out. Emil tasted bile. Someone hacking their way in. Into a ribcage, into a heart, a source of power. Into her child.  

Everyone had something to protect.  

Emil raised his sword. There wasn’t enough life in the world. Not enough to go around. He stumbled forward and smoke, tinged with red, oozed from his body. His vision blurred and he tripped again. Forward. Keep going. He’d rip his own heart open if need be. More bloody smoke clawed free from his body.  

Orion’s voice cut through the smoke. “Emil. We-we’ll fight her together. A final push.” The vaulting timbre of his voice, that used to float to the sky, faltered to the water.  

Emil formed his wings. No hope. Yes, they’d fight together. Die together. At least, together.  

He forged through the water and stretched his wings towards the dragon. She thrust her face through the smoke, no inhale, and opened her mouth. Rows and rows of teeth and the dark tunnel of her throat. A light flickered at the back. So this was it.  

Water wrapped around him, twirling up his legs and torso. He pushed his fingers into the water and a modicum of comfort filled his chest. Orion’s last embrace. A final shield against the fire. It would do nothing. Emil’s wings folded around him, shutting out the world. The dripping of the water sounded like the fall of rain. He hung in the tranquil moment. Darkness in the black cocoon, soundless save the pouring rain. If only… 

The water tightened around Emil and the lake roiled. The force jerked him from his feet and he fell under the surface. The water pulled him down several feet and the heat arced over him through the water. A temporary reprieve, only a delay of death. She’d claw through the water soon. Orion couldn’t save him.  

Emil kicked from the bottom towards the surface. The water continued to roil and he barely broke the surface before being swept under again. The water pushed and pulled him and his lungs burned. Too much. Orion, he was going too far! Emil struggled in the water, trying to find purchase on the ground. He pushed up and managed a gasp of air and a glimpse of land. The dragon slashed towards him. And Orion. Twenty feet away, bloodshot eyes trained on Emil as he walked backwards towards a stretch of land where the young rested.  

The water swept Emil back under the surface and he fell towards the bottom. A claw split the water and raked where he’d stood. He floundered, his limbs on fire from the lack of air. Drowning. Black spots dotted his vision. What was happening? The water tore at Emil, tendrils pulling him under. He broke free and his head erupted from the water. Orion crept backwards, now on the land. Even across the distance, Emil met his bloodshot eyes, pleaded with them, saw the heartbreak in them. Orion reached out towards him and clenched his fist. The water reared up and dragged Emil back under.  

His limbs grew weaker, the pitiful breath he’d gotten, not enough. He struggled against the water, lungs burning. Claws raked through the water above him. The water pulled him to the bottom, wrapping around his limbs. Wrists bound, he couldn’t get free. He cut his knife through the water over and over, to no effect. Burning from the inside. No air. Not again.  

Emil opened his mouth and water flooded into his lungs. His vision distorted. Beautiful flashes of flames in the distant, distant air. An array of colors danced, fire painting the sky. The world faded away. The pull of the water ebbed, but his body drifted limply near the bottom. In the blackness, even more beauty filled his vision than the wondrous colors of the flames. The last thing he saw, the memory of Orion’s bloodshot eyes. Filled with desperation. Filled with heartbreak. Filled with love.  

Then nothing. 

***

Emil erupted into a coughing fit. He rolled to his side and retched. Water spewed from his mouth. His entire body broke into a sweat as he propped himself on his arm. Where was he? Fire danced nearby in a pit, warming him, watching over him. He ripped a pelt off and sat up. The cave. Back in the cave.  

His right hand flew to his left forearm and the steel of his knife greeted his fingers. He clutched the hilt as it all came back to him. The dragon, the young, Orion… The room spun and he retched again. Tears leaked down, a steady drip from his face. The sacred stones, the flames. He shuddered at the memory of the fire and his sweating increased.  

Tapping echoed through the cave. Lycous caned out from the recesses, a club in one hand, a flask and some meat in the other. Emil shakily pushed to his feet. “Lycous, what happened? How did I get here?”  

Lycous handed him the flask with a shake of his head. “Fished your sorry body out of the water, didn’t I? I was too late, hmm?”  

“I’m alive. I suppose I should thank you.” Emil uncapped the flask, but couldn’t bring it to his lips. A tear dripped into the water. Alive. “Did you see Or—him?” A sob rose in his throat and he took a swig of water to wash it back down.  

“Didn’t I say I was too late?”  

“So he’s… he’s gone.” Emil collapsed back down and smoke trickled from his feet. He stared into the fire. A flame, deep in the throat of the darkness. The memory of staring into the dragon’s mouth raced through his mind. He squeezed his eyes closed and covered his head. NO! Smoke hands flew towards the fire and suffocated it, plunging the cave into darkness. Lycous rested his hand on Emil’s shaking shoulders. “How? She fought so hard even after I injured her so badly.” His words bounced off the walls, taunting him over and over. It wasn’t the question he cared about. His voice fell to a whisper. “Why? Why did he do it?”  

Tapping echoed through the cave as Lycous crossed to the fire pit. Only the sound of Lycous blowing into the embers cut through the silence. The fire leapt back to life. “You can never underestimate what a parent will go through for their young, can you?”   

The young. Emil wiped his eyes, but it did little to stem the flow. “I tried, Lycous. I tried as hard as I could. But I failed.” Smoke swirled around him at the memory of the young dragon peeking at its mother. Relief swept through him and his tears dried. “You were right, all along. I don’t think I could live with myself if I had killed the young. I’m too weak. But I think I’d rather die weak, than be strong, if that’s the cost.”   

Lycous extended his club to Emil and pulled him to his feet. His eyes twinkled. “Now, at last, you’re ready to face the dragon on your own two feet.”  

Fear rippled through Emil and his body broke out into a sweat once again. “No. I can’t.” He walked around the fire to stand over Orion’s old sleeping space, still a few pelts marking the spot. “There’s not enough life in the world. Some must die to let others live.” The sacred stones, always healing from the dragon’s attacks, their only defense against its destruction. Outside of that, their greatest trading commodity. That small cluster in the center of the cropping of rocks—no, in the nest. All this time, the villagers weren’t great adventurers, discovering a rare resource. They were parasites.  

“I can’t fight the dragon, but maybe I can still help my village. Tell them the truth about the stones. Stop them from taking them and inciting the dragons’ wrath.”  

“Ah, the stones, eh? Many years, haven’t I seen the villagers scavenge the eggs while they’re in the incubation period in the wild?” Lycous handed him a cut of meat.  

Emil took a bite and glanced around the cave. “My sword?” Lycous shrugged and Emil sighed. He’d return to the village with nothing. Less than nothing. Less than what he’d left with. “I’ll face the village. Their disappointment is nothing new.  Their hatred, well, I suppose that’s what cursed me to think I had the power to come here anyway.” Smoke extended down his legs into talons. Wings unfurled from his back. He clasped Lycous’ hand and strode to the exit.  

“Funny thing, sacrificing, isn’t it, boy?”  

Emil called back over his shoulder. “Can’t say I ever found it funny.”  

“Heh, and why do you assume I’m talking about you?”  

Emil halted, his foot a step away from the outside world, dimly lit by trees burning outside. He brushed the hilt of his knife. “I was the one who burned.”  

“Do you know I’ve seen many people here to slay the dragon? And most have a power. I’ve heard their stories of the ritual. It’s made me wonder. Maybe the sacrifice doesn’t work with hate? After all, aren’t the ones who gain power always sacrificed by someone who loves them?”  

Emil scoffed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disprove your theory, Old Goat. The village leader has no love for me.”  

Lycous joined him by the cave’s exit. The light cast the outside in an amber hue. “Why do you say that?”  

“He’s never been warm to me. In fact, if anything, he’s been harsher to me than the other kids, growing up. Felt like he had to discipline me, I suppose.”  

“Why did he feel that, eh?”  

Emil took a final swig of the flask and returned it to Lycous. The old man pushed the flask back to Emil’s chest and patted it. Emil tipped his head in thanks. “I guess he thought someone had to since I didn’t have a fa—a father…”  

The flask fell to the ground and the rest of the water leaked out. How long? How long had the clues been in front of his eyes? A lifetime. The way his mother always looked at Arvaughn. Not the look of subservience he’d thought. And Arvaughn’s weekly visits with his mother. Emil fell to his knees, the water bleeding into his pants. That village, so full of hate. He’d hated them, even as he smiled, even as he kept his head down. Why should he risk his life helping retrieve stones? Why should he pitch in more than what was asked with the rebuilding? Hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t they done enough to him?   

Lycous scooped the flask up and held it in front of Emil’s face. A lifetime of mistrust, of fear, of being defined by what was done to him. His life, already burnt out before it had barely begun. That’s what he’d always thought. What more could he pay?  

Lycous offered his club, but Emil pushed to his feet by himself. The mice would rise in the summer. They would feel the warmth of the sun. He would pay in blood, in life, in smoke. But Ellie wouldn’t pay, not for him. Because maybe there was enough life in the world. There just wasn’t enough love.  

Pain, sacrifice. He’d been burned away. All that remained was smoke. But for once, finally for once, that felt like enough. He took the flask. “Why did he—why did Orion do it?”  

Lycous led him from the cave. Ash fluttered in the breeze. The dragons howled, searching for their young. Smoke hung, thick in the air, oppressive heat on their faces. The firestorm raged, roars like thunder shook the sky. Lycous lit his club from a burning tree and pointed through the wall of smoke. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”  

Lycous crouched under the smoke and stifled a cough. Emil pulled the smoke to himself, clearing the air for Lycous. A tendril wafted from the torch and Emil twirled his finger. The smoke balled into a mouse and hopped down Lycous’ arm. Lycous smiled. “Still prey, are you?”  

Emil pulled the old man into a hug. He turned and stepped into the black, pulling smoke into his lungs. A roar shattered the crackling of the burning trees. The smoke warmed his body and shielded him from sight. It accepted him into its midst. Emil set off down the mountain and smoke enveloped him entirely.  

He could smell it. 

***

The dragons razed the trees of the mountain. The forest at the base burned. Through the entire day, their roars emanated from the skies. Thick smoke coated the area, obscuring all from sight. Emil descended through the smoke. It passed over his skin, past his lips, into his lungs, through his entire body. Through the smoke, he heard the heartbeat of the dying birds; he sensed the animals huddled in fear under the cloud. The heat made him sweat constantly. The dragons dove through the smoke periodically to rake through the land. He stayed clear of them easily. The sky, that was their domain. But here, in the smoke, this was his. 

He arrived at the base of the mountain and sensed the water nearby. Hands of smoke combed through the air, reaching, tasting the air. Yes, they were nearby. He brushed a large unconscious form. Orion and the young huddled at the edge of the water. Rope bound the young dragon’s snout. With a twist of his hand, a hallway cleared through the smoke, revealing Orion and the young. Orion spun around and stumbled back into the water. Upon seeing Emil, his eyes filled with tears. Emil strode forward, not bothering to stem his own tears. 

“Why? Why did you attack me? Why haven’t you killed it? Why are you even here, fighting the dragons?” The questions tumbled out and the smoke-filled air around them roiled.  

Orion put a hand on the dragon’s chest and it rose and fell with the gentle breathing. “A child.” He stroked the dragon, running his fingers along the crest of its ribs. “A cage, o smoke lord. Inside, a treasure. One you can never take, only be given. The most precious thing, that heart. Wouldn’t you do anything? Wouldn’t you tear out your own heart, drown in your own blood, if it meant protecting that thing?” He pulled a knife from his belt and held the blade to the fleshy underside of the dragon’s throat. The knife bounced with small, almost playful, movements from the pulse tapping against its edge.  

Emil flung out an arm and smoke, like lightning, struck down from the dark cloud hanging over Orion’s head. It wrapped around his throat, posed to smother him, to slither into his nostrils and strangle him from the inside. “Put the knife down.”  

Orion’s fingers tightened around the hilt. “Strike me down, guardian. Or I will bathe in its blood.” 

Emil closed his fist and smoke poured down, wrapping around Orion’s arms and legs. “No.”  

“Oh yes! I’ll do it and only you can stop me!” Orion’s hand shook and water wept from his hand and dripped from the point of the knife, like tears glistening on the dragon’s scales. “So do it. Stop me.”  

Emil ripped his own knife from his forearm and prowled forward. “No.” Step by step, he closed the distance, his knife leveled at Orion. Smoke wrapped around the entirety of Orion’s body, a writhing mass. Only his nose and eyes, those bloodshot eyes, stayed clear.  

“Do it! Do it!” The knife trembled violently and the lake roiled, waves battering the land.  

Emil pushed his own knife to Orion’s throat and the pulse beat at his blade, begging him for release. Roars echoed from the sky, approaching the turbulent lake. The young dragon opened its eyes and wrestled against the rope. 

Smoke everywhere, burning, bound, can’t move.  

No.  

Never again.  

Emil sliced through the dragon’s restraints. It leapt free and Orion let out a sob. The knife tumbled from his fingers and he fell to his knees. The screams of dragons grew closer. “O smoky bear, you should have killed us. Killed us both.”  

“Maybe.” The young dragon lumbered to the water. After several gulps, it shook its head, flinging water drops onto them. Emil smiled and the dragon tilted its head, peering at him inquisitively. Young. So young. Still not understanding of the way of the world. The horror of the world. Maybe a little longer. Maybe it could stay so young, just a little longer.  

The young dragon scampered away to the tree line and faded into the forest. Emil held a hand out to Orion. “Maybe. But you should have killed it, too, when you had the chance. Now, it’s too late. There’s nothing to do, but stand on your own feet, by your own power.” 

Orion’s eyes migrated from Emil’s hand to his eyes. The smoke wafted from around his body and formed into wings on Emil’s back. Through the broken vessels of Orion’s eyes, the light of hope rekindled. He grasped Emil’s hand and rose to his feet. He held out his other hand and the water from his body coalesced into a mouse. “Then I will stand, but not by my own power.” He smiled and flipped Emil’s hand palm-up. The mouse scurried into Emil’s hand. “After all, you helped me up, my hawk of fire’s song.”  

Laughter erupted from the smoke at the base of the mountain. A blast from a powerful swipe cleared the air. Lycous whipped his club through the air another few swings and fanned the smoke from around him. “What’s this, a pair of fools? And still unable to stand on their own?”  

Orion smiled and leaned on Emil. “I’m afraid not, oldest and most decrepit of goats. But able or not, we will fight.” He looked to the smoke-obscured sky then back to Emil. “Together.”  

“Ah, then I will honor your fight and take my leave. It is the way of the dragons that mates fight for survival. It seems I’m done, at last, as you’ve accomplished what you came to do.”  

The dragons’ roars blasted from almost directly above them. Billows of their powerful wings battered the smoke away as the dragons descended. Emil drew his knife in final salute and shouted, “Not everything, but we’ll fight of our own powers, even though we never captured a dragon’s heart.” 

“Haven’t you, though?” Lycous tipped his head back and laughed. A rainbow of brilliant flames erupted from his mouth and colored the sky. He blew a golden flame to the tip of his club and it caught fire. He raised his torch high overhead and nodded to Emil and Orion. The dragons dropped into the clearing and roared. Both dragons faced Lycous and bowed their heads before each released a tongue of fire towards him. The fire engulfed him and his laughter echoed from the mountain. He ambled back along the mountain path and his naked form disappeared into the smoke.  

The dragons faced Emil and Orion, their hands still clasped. Emil nodded to Orion and they separated, Orion to the water, and Emil further towards the forest. Wings of smoke fanned from Emil’s back. Orion punched his hands to the sky and water surged from the lake, encompassing him in the body of a serpent. Emil reached to the smoke, heavy all around them, and pulled his fists down, flooding the air around the dragons’ heads. Fire blasted towards Emil and the serpent snapped forward. A screen of steam obstructed everything and Emil closed his eyes. Through the smoke, he sensed them. Thick swaths of smoke clutched at the dragons’ faces, clawing towards their eyes, nostrils, and mouths. The dragons shook themselves, to no effect, and screamed. Their wings battered the sky and both launched into the air. Hands of smoke reached towards them until they flew out of reach.  

The male swooped down, blindly tearing through the smoke, and raking his claws towards lake. Emil sensed him well before he neared and ran to the side. As the dragon arced by, bolts of smoke lashed down from the dark cloud. The dragon pulled from his dive and burst back up through the smoke. A blast of fire tore through the smoke, razing another section of forest, followed by the female. She came from further away and had more time to search. She scanned the surface of the lake and twisted towards Emil.  

He sloshed to the water and dove. She ripped through the water, only inches from his body. Before he recovered, she turned upward and disappeared through the smoke.  

“Soggy bear, we can’t keep this up forever!”  

Emil wiped the water from his eyes. He pushed his hands into the air and smoke rippled upward towards the encroaching male dragon. The dragon flapped out of reach and circled. Emil cursed. It was no good. Screeches rained down from above the smoke and another tongue of flame licked through, exploding into the lake. The dragons would never stay down long enough. Unless… 

He speared his hands towards the smoke centered over the lake. With a shout, he wrenched his hands apart, parting the sky. Light shone through the widening gap as he shoved the smoke to the side. The dragons descended cautiously on the heels of the clearing smoke. 

“Uh, smoky bear…?”  

Smoke poured from Emil’s back and sweat beaded his forehead. Water dripped from his hair. Orion sloshed over to him and grabbed his shoulder. The dragons landed on the banks of the river and sheathed their wings. 

Orion froze and then threw back his head with a laugh. The water rippled as the great serpent glided over the water. Orion’s chest heaved and his bloodshot eyes met Emil’s. “Ah, one last stand. Together.”  

Water leapt up, like flying fish, and swam through the serpent to add to its size. It reared up behind him and Emil’s wings unfurled. Yes. Together.  

The dragons roared in challenge and Emil’s and Orion’s shout met them in kind. For Ellie. For his mother. For the village. For himself. For the mice. Emil charged through the water. First would come fire. But after… 

Fire spiraled towards him and the serpent struck forward, swallowing the flames. Steam and drops of boiling water burned Emil’s exposed skin raw. He screamed and plunged through the cloud, heat like a thousand needles stabbing into his face and arms and torso. Blind, no air. Heat and pain. Burning, no air.  

Emil emerged from the steam and faced the female dragon. She snapped forward and he dove to the side. Her jaws crashed shut beside him. He thrust his smoke towards her, clawing at her face. He raked at her eyes and she whipped her head back. The smoke poured into her nostrils, filling her nasal cavities. He could feel the abrasion of the smoke, rough over the soft lining of her windpipe. Close, so close. Emil closed his eyes. Down, further down.  

Coughing wracked her chest and he dug into the walls of her throat. She snapped at him again and he stumbled to the side. Her head slammed into his trunk and he fell to the cold water. Sharp pain stabbed into his side. He rose to one knee as her mouth opened above him, rows and rows of knives. So close. He shoved the smoke into the branching roots of her lungs. A roar from beside him. Someone screaming his name. Close, so close. 

Hands smashed into his side, knocking him fully into the water. Fabric tearing, flesh ripping. Orion’s scream. Emil loosed a battle cry and flung his arms out, fingers spread wide. His smoke exploded through the female’s lungs, drowning her from the inside. She reeled, unable to bellow, and collapsed to the ground.  

Emil opened his eyes as Orion stumbled towards him. A long gash ran down his trunk, puckering in stilted movements with Orion’s erratic breathing, like gills struggling to breathe. The male roared and jumped to the female’s unconscious form. Emil took a step towards Orion and gasped as pain twisted like a knife through his right trunk. Blood coughed from the long wound in Orion’s chest and his eyes fluttered closed. The serpent crumbled above them, water tumbling back to the lake. Emil dragged Orion back through the eroding snake as another burst of fire tore at them. Steam hissed and Emil hauled them both back, the last of the snake vaporizing.  

The dragon, standing over the female’s body, reared up, fury in his eyes. More than fury. Indignation. That Emil, a mere mouse in comparison, dared to fight, to resist. Even his smoke, an indignity—naught but the fading soul of the dragon’s flames.   

Orion wavered on his feet and Emil held him up. He leveled his knife at the dragon’s massive head. “I know my power might not do anything. But it comes from me. It’s all I can offer. So even if it’s not good or doesn’t do anything, I’ll give it anyway.” 

The dragon’s lips pulled back into a snarl, baring its teeth. Smoke fountained from Emil’s body. Pain ripped through his trunk with every breath. His knife trembled as he held it aloft. He’d burned already. All the way. His wings folded around him and Orion, shrouding them from sight for a moment. Only a moment. Blood dripped from Orion’s chest to the surface of the lake. Darkness in their black cocoon, soundless save the dripping blood. Orion’s weight shifted from Emil as Orion steadied his feet under himself. Yes. They’d stand, stand on their own feet, of their own power. The wings parted a fraction, enough to see the dragon inhale. First there’d be fire. But after. After the fire… 

The dragon lashed out with his head, jaws gaping, a light at the back of his throat. Emil and Orion shoved apart and each dove into the water. Fire split the air between them. Even in the water, the heat scorched his skin, burning the water at the surface to a boil. Emil clawed through the water and burst back into the air. The dragon bellowed and reared up, freeing his front claws from the ground. Emil forged forward, the tips of his wings contorting into claws.  

He rushed onto the land and the dragon swiped at him. He jumped back and his own claws shot towards the dragon’s head. The dragon reeled back before snapping his head forward between the claws. Emil fell on his back and met the dragon’s eyes, looming over his body. The dragon’s mouth opened, revealing his teeth inch by inch, row by row. Emil brought his knife, smaller than even a single tooth, in front of him. The dragon lunged, his teeth aimed for Emil’s exposed chest. Even being grazed would tear his ribs open. Close, too close. Emil twisted, only moving his body partially off the line of the dragon’s trajectory. Eyes, full of fury, full of hate, reflected back Emil’s own bloodshot eyes.  

So this was it. He’d die, torn apart, a mouse before a hawk.  

No. 

Emil thrust his wings forward. He’d be devoured, but not without pushing forward. Not without giving every lost drop of blood, every last wisp of smoke he had. Life. Death. Fire. Smoke. He wouldn’t die a mouse before a hawk. He’d die a man before a dragon. And he wouldn’t go down so easy.  

The teeth drew nearer and Emil met the dragon’s eyes, a smoke claw reaching for the back of the dragon’s throat. In the reflection of the dragon’s iris, Orion stood at the edge of the water, his hands clutching his chest, wet with blood. Orion screamed and punched forward.  

Blood ripped from Orion’s body and shot past Emil’s head into the dragon’s right eye. The dragon reeled backwards with a pained roar and whipped his head through the air. Shot after shot of blood arced towards the dragon’s head. Too much, too much blood! He had to stop. 

Emil turned as Orion fell back towards the water. He met Orion’s bloodshot eyes. Filled with desperation, filled with pain, filled with love. Orion collapsed into the water, unmoving. Smoke surged from Emil, flooded from his body, pounded from his heart. He spun and a dozen claws reached for the dragon, raked at his eyes, pulled at his mouth, stabbed into his nose. The smoke pulled itself into the dragon’s throat and the dragon thrashed. Down, deeper down. The dragon stumbled back, unfurling its wings and Emil pressed forward. He dug into the dragon’s chest, the fork of the lungs close, so close. The dragon wheezed and reared up over the female’s body, head arced high to the sky and wings spread wide. Emil forced the smoke down, further down. Close, so close.  

The dragon’s upper body fell back to the ground. In a final, colossal strike, the dragon ripped his claws downward and tore through the female’s chest.  

Blood fountained out and the dragon’s head plunged down. He ripped her heart from her body and crushed the organ between his teeth. Hot blood sprayed across the land and the dragon whipped its head in an arc. The roots of the dragon’s lungs so close. Emil flung open his arms. The droplets singed Emil’s skin, raining down on his body, extinguishing his power.  

The smoke extending from him down the dragon’s throat lost its form. His connection to the smoke severed as the female dragon’s blood dripped down his forehead and burned his eyes. The male dragon stumbled to the side and coughed violently. Smoke exploded from his mouth. Plume after plume as he cleared his lungs. Emil desperately reached for the smoke, trying to shape it to his will. His mind slipped through it, grasping at nothingness. The power over smoke—it was gone.  

The dragon prowled back to him, blood dripping from his scales, then turned towards the lake where Orion’s unconscious body rested on the bank in pink-tinged water.  

“No!” Emil charged the dragon and it spun, its tail lashing out. He rolled under it and came to his feet. Claws ripped through the top layers of his back, the force of the strike sending him flying forward. Agony tore through his body and his breathing came in gasps. Blood dripped to the ground from his mouth. No smoke poured from his body. His knife, gone. He pulled himself towards Orion’s body. Close, so close. The ground rumbled behind him. Emil crawled to Orion, his body covered in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked in blood. He grabbed Orion’s hand. Together.  

 The dragon loomed behind them, his shadow covering their bleeding bodies. Emil stood, swaying on his feet, and batted at the dragon. Hot pain stabbed through his back and his vision blurred. He reached for the smoke again and again, fingers opening and closing. The dragon arched its head high and his lips pulled back, revealing rows of teeth. He with no smoke, the dragon with no fire. But the dragon could tear him apart with his teeth and claws, break his bones with his tail, crush him with his legs. 

Tears rolled down Emil’s face. Blood slid down his back, mixing with the cold sweat beaded on his skin. No smoke, no knife. Emil’s vision blacked out for a moment and he stumbled forward. His leg shot out, barely catching himself from falling to the ground. It shook under his weight, under the weight of his weakness, his helplessness, his despair. His vision faded back, his trembling leg a blur. Beside his foot, Orion, unconscious. Dying. Dying, but a whisper of a smile still on his face.  

So no. Emil closed his hands, empty of smoke, into fists. He wouldn’t be devoured so easily. Smoke or no. Knife or no. He wouldn’t die a mouse before a hawk. Emil met the dragon’s eyes and spat his defiance. “First, there is fire. But after… after, there is me.”  

The dragon’s face contorted with rage. He whipped his head towards Emil. Emil punched, the bones of his right hand breaking from the impact on the scales in the moment before the dragon’s head bludgeoned him in the chest. His breath exploded from him with a crack and he flew back in an arc before landing in the lake. His diaphragm spasmed from the blow and his lungs burned. More stabbing pain, more knives in his chest. He sunk beneath the surface and blackness bled into the edges of his vision. The dragon’s body like shattered glass through the disturbed surface of the water. The dragon launched forward into the lake, an intensity in his eyes. A hawk going in for the kill. The dragon’s claws pierced the water and slid towards Emil.  

This same lake. Almost exactly where he first met Orion. Splashing in the water, looking like an idiot. Ahh, he had been training his water power. Warmth blossomed through Emil’s chest. Those days in the cave. Training together. Laughing together.  

The dragon’s face, distorted through the turbulent water. Emil closed his eyes. He’d struggled back then. That first time in the lake. He’d struggled to break free, to rise from the water, to breathe. Burning in his lungs, stabbing through his chest, life draining from his back.  

How often had he burned? Bound, couldn’t get free, unable to breathe? Yes, that time long, long ago. Burned by the fire, drowned in the smoke. By one who loved him, how strange? Ah, yes, and another time.  

No so long ago, on the mountaintop. Orion, pulling him under to distract the female dragon. Sacrificing him. How could he?  

Emil opened his eyes. The dragon’s claw snapped shut in front of his face, close, so close. He sunk down, further down. How could he? How could he give up now, when he still had a drop of blood in his body? He wasn’t dead yet. And maybe there was enough life in the world. And just enough. Just enough love.  

Emil balled his left fist in the water and punched. He punched because he, the mouse, would rise. He, the mouse, would see the sun again. He, the mouse, would feel the warmth of love again—or die trying.  

He punched and water rose up. Talons of water tore from the lake and wrapped around the dragon’s neck. He dragged the dragon down, tendrils of water wrapping around its legs, its wings, its back. The dragon beat his wings in a futile effort to escape Emil’s pull. The dragon crashed into the water and writhed, trying to break free. Emil pulled the dragon down, further down. The dragon craned his mouth open, and the water filled his mouth. The dragon roared, the sound warbling through the lake. Water rushed in, flooding in through the mouth, the nostrils, over the teeth, through the nasal cavities. The roar turned to gurgling. Emil could feel the water slide along the soft lining of the dragon’s windpipe. Down, further down. He dragged the dragon down.  

Emil’s lungs burned, screaming for oxygen. But he had burned before. He’d burned away in the flame of love, drowned in smoke and water. And he, the mouse, would rise again.  

The dragon thrashed, the water churning around him. The water roiled and clawed over his body, around his body, in his body. Close, so close. Emil sensed the roots of the dragon’s lungs. His vision blacked out, but close, so close. He forced the water down into every branch of the dragon’s lungs and its struggling became weaker. The dragon jerked in the water, once, twice. Emil could sense it. Burning in his lungs. The pressure overrode Emil’s will and his body opened his mouth and breathed reflexively.  Water filled his lungs. The dragon stopped moving. The world faded away.  

***

Pressure pounded on his chest, sending stabs of pain through his broken ribs. Emil erupted into a coughing fit and retched out a mouthful of water tinged with blood. Every cough sent agony into his lungs and he clutched his trunk, his abdominals spasming as he fought to restrain from coughing.  

Orion weakly patted him on the shoulder. “There, there, my submursa major. Get it all out.”  

Emil wheezed and sat up. The haze of the burning forest cast the world in amber light. Beside the lake, the dead female dragon laid, her chest ripped open. In the center of the lake, the body of the male dragon floated, unmoving. In the distance, the clamor of villagers crashed through the forest. “Wh-what happened?”  

Orion rose to his feet. “We’re alive.” He pulled Emil to his feet. “The people of your village are coming. I believe they think the dragons are injured, maybe dead. At the very least, at their most vulnerable they may ever be. It appears the villagers are taking action. Nay, vengeance.”  

A cry resounded from the forest and the young dragon lumbered from its hiding place. It crawled to its mother’s limp wing and mewled.  

For vengeance. Emil stared at the body of the female, following it along its length. At the base of her tail rested an egg that had slid from her dead body. A sacred stone. That which his village had stolen from her, over and over, inciting her wrath. Nay, her vengeance. Emil limped to the egg.  

Yes, his village would come. Find the young dragon, huddled under its mother’s wing. Slaughter it to prevent it from growing into a full-grown dragon.  

He rested a hand on the sacred stone and Orion joined him. Emil labored to breathe, his ribs twinging, his back burning. Blood wept from the gash on Orion’s chest. Emil lifted the egg, the fluid undulating inside. Healing fluid. He and Orion faced each other and joined hands.  

Orion corralled the young dragon to follow them and Emil carried the egg. Together, they’d protect these young. They limped through the still-burning trees towards the direction of Orion’s village. After they’d put a distance behind them, shouts rose from the forest as the villagers discovered the dead bodies of the dragons.  Emil stumbled and almost dropped the egg. Orion caught his elbow and steadied him. They exchanged weary smiles. Yes, they’d live—or die—by their power. On their own feet. Together.  

And summer would come. Soon, the mice would dance again.  

Want to read more by this author? Check out more by them!

Eric Kao