Day 41 of the Suns season, year 2447

Azéna could just imagine the absolute panic and chaos outside.

“My lord?” questioned the guard in a nervous tone.

Recovering, Lord Kindirah pushed back a strand of his ebony hair that had fallen before his eyes.

“His size!” he shouted impatiently. “What colour is it?”

“Uh... W-well,” stammered the guard. “For such a creature, he's small, about the height of a man and a half, Sir.”

“And!? Its colour, boy!”

“Grey! Uh... More like silver. Nothing abnormal. Does that really matter?”

“Answer my questions and nothing more.”

The soldier nodded, seemingly confused as to what to do. Bayrne didn’t wait and took action.

“Sérus. Come with me. And, as for you, my daughters, you are all to stay put,” he added, pointing an authoritative finger at Argent and Azéna.

He glanced at his son. Sérus did not react; he stood straight and stern, but Azéna could see a crack in his mask. His eyes were a bit more rounded than usual; he was anxious. After a brief moment, he nodded.

Bayrne checked that his sword was still hanging from his belt, and set off.

“You all stay here.”

“I can fight,” insisted Argent. “I can help. Please, Father.”

“Don’t you dare, Argent!”

Sérus and the guard at his heels, they hurried out of the castle. He ordered soldiers he stumbled upon to follow him to the western gates.

“He really thinks he's going to prevent me from seeing a dragon, even if it’s a grey one,” Azéna cackled in amazement. “He's insane. I’m not missing that.”

“Azéna, stay here. It's not safe out there with that creature lurking around. You know of the misfortunes of our city's past in this regard.”

Arlien, the scribe of the family, had told them these epic tales a few times during their youth. The texts spoke of Nothar who had survived many attacks of legendary creatures such as dragons, manticores and even wyverns through the ages.

“You know me, big sister,” she insisted. “It's going to be all right. I've survived all the shit that this corrupt kingdom could throw at me. I'm sure I'll survive a little dragon, especially one that is going to be distracted with the soldiers.”

She followed in her father's footsteps, running as if her life depended on it. In reality, the more steps she took, the more she craved seeing that dragon.

“She's lost her mind!” Tria squealed, dumbfounded. “No one can stop her once she gets going except brute force.”

Fayne followed her friend as best as she could, but she wasn’t fast enough. The only reason she managed to catch up to her was because of the crowd blocking the way. She tried to imitate her acrobatic movements, but most of the time, she failed. She would nearly bump into walls and often step on people’s feet.

“Azéna, stop!”

The Kindirah girl ignored her warnings and continued to sprint wildly when she could.

“We might get eaten. Do you understand that?” the herbalist shouted.

“You're coy, Fayne! That's what life is: an adventure, not being locked up in your home, all cozy.”

She squeezed herself between people, desperately trying to gain ground. Behind, Fayne apologized on her behalf to calm the citizens she irritated.

“Make way,” Azéna growled, determined to avoid all the obstacles in her way.

She was blocked by a young boy in the middle of traffic. She tried to dodge him, but there was nothing she could do. It almost looked as if he was trying to block her way on purpose.

“Godsdamnit! Kid, get out of the way!” she shouted.

The boy glared at her and once again, got in her way. Every time she tried to go around him, he stood in front of her. She hopped, used his shoulder as a platform for her hand and landed behind him. Adrenaline still pumping in her blood, she ran without a second thought. She lifted her gaze and saw a hooded man in front of her. Unable to stop herself in time, she slid between his legs and kicked his balls by mistake. The man, confused by what just happened to him, crashed to the ground, writhing in agony.

In his fall, he grasped Azéna’s cloak and dragged her with him.

The crowd continued to move forward, avoiding them like a river flowing around a rock.

Azéna coughed, choked by the dust in the air. The man grunted as he got up slowly and awkwardly. She apologized briefly as a hand grabbed her arm.

“How clumsy can you be!?” snapped Fayne, out of breath as she helped her get back on her feet.

“You look exhausted,” her childhood friend remarked. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, everything's just dandy,” the Litfow girl replied sarcastically.

She leaned on herself in a desperate attempt to calm her jerky breath.

Azéna turned to the man, but he was gone. She looked around and saw the silver cape he was wearing in the distance. A symbol decorated the garment as it danced with the steps of its wearer. She squinted her eyes to better discern it.

“A dark sword?” she mumbled.

“What?” Fayne asked.

A bald man narrowly avoided them in his frantic race.

“Move, you damned idiots!” he bellowed. “Can't you... Can't you see there's action out there?”

He continued to move forward, clumsily making his way through the flood of people. The smell of alcohol that permeated his dirty clothes disappeared along with him.

The rebel girl took a last look behind her, but the dark sword symbol had disappeared along with its bearer. She did not know why, but the man intrigued her. She clenched her fists and set off again, determined to get to that dragon.

When they arrived at the western gates, a crowd blocked their view and passage. A beastly roar buried their clamour. Most retreated a few steps back, shouting exclamations and panic. Some left in screaming fear. 

Azéna pushed people out of the way.

“What a beautiful song!”

“Song?” replied Fayne. “What? Where do you see a song in this furious roar? I see it more as a warning. We should go back to safety, please!”

The dragon uttered a second roar. This time it was softened with a touch of sadness. Azéna recognized despair in its hoarse voice. It was as if it was calling for someone.

The third cry he uttered was full of bitterness. This scream, which the Kindirah girl considered more like a yelp, tore her heart out. She shed a tear and quickly wiped it away before Fayne could notice it.

What could she do to help?

The crowd was frightened, and the guards were finding it increasingly difficult to control them. Some were trying to push the guards out of the way to attack the dragon, others were yelling curses and the rest were satisfied with watching. 

It was total chaos. Nothing was being contained for long and it

was going to blow up.

“Stay calm!” cried one guard who threatened the dragon with a jab of his spear. “We have the situation under control.”

“Liars!” replied a greying woman. “We're not safe as long as that monster is here.”

The two friends had finally reached the other side of the crowd. From, here, they could see it in all of its glory. The silver dragon.

The winged lizard was not very big for one of its kind. It reached the height of a man and a half, but its wings, veined with white, were immense. As the guard said, it was covered with silver scales that shimmered faintly under the rising golden moonlight.

As she was when she examined its physical features more closely, Azéna realized that they were immature.  It was as young, probably a child. His jaw was lined with small, flexible spikes and the tip of its tail was razor-sharp. Its legs were encumbered with shackles. The chain connecting them had been broken.

“Stop!” the teenager shouted. “I don't think it wants to hurt us.”

“Lord Kindirah's orders are unquestionable,” informed one of the many soldiers who were trying to scare the dragon away with their spears. “Please keep a good distance from it.”

“I command you to stop!”

“My apologies, my young Lady, but you do not have authority over me.”

He jabbed at the dragon in the hope that it would retreat. The creature ceased roaring and came to a standstill. Its breathing slowed and it shook its powerful head vigorously. With the grace of a feline, it spread its large wings that resembled those of a bat, with a sharp claw sticking out of each finger. It spat, hissed and roared, whipping its tail around. It was trying to intimidate, not attack.

The crowd took a few steps backwards. Only the guards, Sérus, Bayrne, and Azéna stood still.

“Move back!” Fayne begged her friend. “Zézé, please.”

Azéna ignored her. She was hypnotized by the dragon.

The creature examined the crowd with its tiny, piercing eyes. It took the time to scan each individual before turning its attention to

the next. When the young rebel’s turn came, it stared at her intensely. Its eyes were as sublime as two pools of liquid amethyst. Its pupil dilated to become perfectly round. His traits softened and he purred.

It was as if she was connected to him in a way. It felt as if he was piercing her soul, that he was feeling everything she felt. The most surprising was that he understood her.

She suddenly knew it. He was a male, a young boy.

He folded up his majestic wings and slowly lowered his head.

“What's it doing?” Fayne asked.

“He, not it. And… huh… I don't know,” Azéna whispered.

The dragon gently brought his broad head closer to her, moving ever so gracefully, provoking only the most sensitive ones.

“Slaughter it!" Bayrne ordered the guards.

The soldiers took advantage of the dragon's distraction and attacked. A spear pierced the creature's flanks. He uttered a shrill cry that forced the nearby inhabitants to put their hands over their ears. 

When the roar faded, he turned his wild gaze to his attacker. He snarled, revealing his huge, sharp teeth. He spread his wings and opened his mouth. He breathed out a gust so powerful that the soldiers in front of him were pushed back into the crowd.

In pain, he fell to the ground in a cloud of dust.

“Have you no respect for dragons?” asked a stern void that had been damaged by age.

A familiar old woman approached the young dragon. The latter was breathing with difficulty, but he found the strength to growl at her. He challenged Leith.

Apparently, the woman knew no fear. As if he was just a harmless doe, she bent down to inspect his wound. He fell silent and let his heavy head collapse to the ground. Observing the people around him, he allowed the old lady to take care of him with surprising docility.

Leith detached a small purse from her belt, opened it and reached out her hand to the dragon. He hesitated, but after a moment, approached the pouch and sniffed. He licked the air, as if he was tasting it. Satisfied, he turned his attention to one of the guards who

was jabbing a spear and moved forward while the traveller spread a yellowish cream over the wound. He rolled up his lower lips and uttered a slow, deep growl. 

The guard froze, paralyzed by fear of the moment.

“It's all right,” Leith insisted gently. “Stand back.”

“But he's dangerous,” the guard said. “We only want to protect you.”

Azéna stood behind the old woman and could see nothing of what she was doing.

“Dragons are crucial creatures in the cycle of life. What's your excuse for killing them like this?" Leith said as she turned to the crowd. “Haven't you heard of the Guardians of Aerinda?”

“It doesn't matter,” Bayrne replied angrily. “This monster dared to attack my city, my subjects and by extension, myself. It must be killed.”

In a single swift movement, Leith threw a tiny knife that pierced Lord Kindirah’s plate armour directly where his heart was. Not quite deep enough.

“You are fortunate, my Lord, that I have tolerance for foolishness.”

Bayrne gazed wide-eyed at the weapon that was embedded in his armour.

“By Elysia, kill them both! This time, complete your mission!” shouted the enraged lord. “Make sure that it’s a lesson she won’t forget.”

The soldiers pointed their spears at Leith and the dragon and advanced. The silver creature suddenly opened his eyes and stood up. He roared all his anger and bared his fangs at his enemies. His wound had stopped bleeding, but he kept his paw raised in a desperate attempt to ease his pain.

“This time he will show you no mercy,” she warned with an amused smile. “One last piece of advice. You'll never get two chances with a dragon. In fact, with this kind of attitude, you're already fortunate to have had one.”

The lord of Daigorn frowned and raised his arm. The soldiers rushed toward Leith and the dragon.

In a hard struggle, Leith defended herself nobly and killed no one. The silver dragon had other intentions and took a few lives.

Azéna and Fayne watched, horrified.

The dragon had taken flight. He flapped his wings with difficulty. His breathing was ragged, but he managed to exhale gusts to throw the soldiers off balance and give Leith the advantage she needed. Leith fended for herself beautifully despite her predicament, and she demonstrated accomplished techniques.

“Lord Kindirah, protect us!” whined a noblewoman in the crowd.

“I’ll deal with her myself,” growled Bayrne.

There was a subtle tremble in his body, but he never hesitated.

He drew his one-handed sword. Pointing the weapon at the old woman, he waited for his guards to move aside.

The two fighters circled each other like animals and tested each other’s reflexes, feigning attacks.

“No, no!” screamed Azéna, her voice muffled by the cacophony of yells and cheers.

Bayrne's sword struck against the Leith’s staff relentlessly. The fight seemed to drag on and on as Azéna stared out in all directions in search of a way to change the situation.

Trembling, Fayne could not stay still either. Panic spread in her widened eyes.

“Do something!”

With no idea on what to do, Azéna looked around and saw Sérus in the distance. The dark-haired teenager was watching the duel with interest. His adopted sister made her way through the rowdy crowd and when she reached him, she grabbed his arm roughly.

“Stop this madness!”

“Why?” he replied, not averting his eyes from the fight. “Let this be a lesson to the rebels who dare to challenge us. Our house is already seen as weak. It’s time to pull ourselves up. Don’t you see? We have to tighten the grip.”

Leith succeeded in disarming Lord Kindirah. In response, he rammed her with his shoulder. She fell heavily on her back and tried to grab the sword, but it was too far away.

The dragon squinted his eyes and growled silently. Bayrne hesitated when he realized he was watching him. Him and Sérus exchanged a glance. Azéna knew what it meant.

“Don’t do it!”

Sérus placed his right hand on the bow hanging from his back. Bayrne retrieved his sword and raised his weapon to the sky. He was far too busy to notice that his daughter was running toward him.

The whole thing happened in the space of a moment. Azéna placed herself in front of Leith. Bayrne tried to stop his momentum, but it was too strong.  It was too late. The rebellious girl closed her eyes and cowered.

A metal sound, then a roar resounded. 

When Azéna opened her eyes, she saw a sea of silver scales. A muffled growl startled her. A giant head with reptilian characteristics was staring at her. The dragon was so close to her that his humid breath grazed her face. His black pupil dilated. 

Contact with a cold, metallic object distracted the young lady's attention. Her gaze fell on a sword that was suspended between the huge fangs of the dragon. He opened his jaws slightly and waited as if he was offering her a gift. She accepted his offering and grabbed the weapon.

The dragon sniffed, glanced defiantly at Lord Kindirah who was lying on the ground and flew away. He started patrolling around the crowd like a vulture.

Leith took the opportunity to get up and smiled proudly at Azéna.

“How dare you?” Bayrne asked his adopted daughter.

“She's not an enemy,” she replied, glaring at him.

“What about the dragon? Don't tell me that it’s innocent after the destruction and killing it committed. I won’t stand for it!”

“He was defending himself!”

“It’s a beast, Azéna. It won’t have priority over my subjects!”

The dragon roared and glared at him with his intimidating gaze. He snapped his jaws viciously.

“I’d think twice about what you say if I were you,” Azéna advised with a mean smile on her face.

“You're going back to the castle right now!” Bayrne ordered dryly. “Sérus, escort her and make sure she doesn't run away.”

Sérus grabbed his sister firmly by the arm. The dragon roared his anger and dove to the ground like a bird descending on its prey. In a perfect turn, he grabbed Azéna with all four paws, making sure his curved claws were actually hanging on to her clothes and not her skin.

Bayrne jumped, startled and pale, but didn't hesitate to give the order:

“For Noktow, take down this wild beast!”

A small group of archers prepared to attack. In a perfect synchronization, they released. The arrows sliced through the sky toward the dragon, who avoided them all but one that pierced his right wing. The wound did not make him flinch. As he ascended to the sky, he blew several gusts throughout the neighbourhood, damaging the buildings and hurting several citizens, including the archers.

At the sight of the horizon, Azéna was flooded with the need to leave. She could. It was so easy with the help of this dragon. She didn't understand him, but she knew he would help her. She wouldn't have to worry about the duties that were required of her. She could break her chains. She could be free, far from all her suffering.

However, she had to abandon everybody for that, even Fayne. The thought of leaving them made her stomach turn.

Time was not on her side. A choice had to be made and quickly.

The dragon seemed to feel her anxiety and began to purr. She caressed his beautiful scales and for the first time in her life, the inexplicable emptiness she felt constantly had suddenly disappeared as a wave of comfort had crashed over her. It was as if someone had confirmed to her that she was belonged with this majestic creature.  Her body hairs bristled up, stimulated by the intense emotions.

An arrow flew by the dragon, barely missing him.

“Cease-fire!” bellowed Bayrne. “My daughter!”

“What should we do, my lord?” asked the captain of the archers.

“I… I…”

The suzerain seemed distraught, conflicted with himself.

“Daughter, please, come back to us!”

Azéna ignored him, remembering all the suffering she went through because of his oversized pride. She stared into the dragon’s fierce purple gaze and felt his fire stir. Or rather, his storm. He was so alive, starved for a thrilling life, much like herself.

She knew what her decision was despite the aches that came with it.

“Fayne… Mother… Argent… Gendrel… Ravon… Saria… Lyran…”

She took a deep breath and let her feelings sink in.

The dragon's reptilian face was deformed to create a kind of smile. He seemed sincerely happy, although in an eldritch way. He turned to the horizon and grunted.

“Wait!" Azéna yelled. “She’s a crazy old bat, but let's save Leith’s hide! We can't leave her at Bayrne's mercy. He certainly won’t be kind to her.”