This story is a single journal entry in Book One, Ursus Borealis, in The Starlight Chronicles series. I found it rather fun to write a story within a story within a story. It nestles in a chapter featuring Kuliana Hada, a character that appears throughout the series, who is an Anurashin Captain of the Guard. Cynthia is her ancestress.
Cynthia’s story is incorporated into an actual historical account about the White Ship that sailed in 1120 as described. Its sinking changed history.
This sounds impossible, I know. You will just have to take my word for it. That is, if you’re from a realm apart from this hidden place beneath a volcano, and if this message manages to reach you, as I hope.
My life began on a farm in the County of Anjou. It was forever changed when I met a bear from Normandy.
After immersing myself in the astonishing world of my mate and the kingdoms of the shifters, learning there was life beyond this Earth before reaching the heavens took only a few extra pints to swallow down. That, and meeting Zigan. It turns out that Zigan and I are old souls who have danced through this journey before in many previous lifetimes.
How my soul was chosen for this repeated Earth-bound destiny remains a mystery, but my magus spent many hours over wine in our chateau, sharing what he knew of our history, or rather, the history of the prophecy of the marked maidens.
As for Zigan, up until we met—in this time—he had spent his life training with the Order, which included studying the records in the extensive archives and all forms of alchemy. He had also been honed into a fierce warrior. Even more astonishing, he could transform into a stunning feline, which I learned was called a tiger.
For eight years, I experienced what it was to be part of the Pack, to be soulmates with its alpha, to be one part of a wondrous whole. We were successful in our purpose, keeping the princes’ machinations from the human population and mitigating the damage.
This is the part at the end of our story. Writing it down is agony because it chronicles the event that halted our purpose violently, tore me from those I loved, and marked the beginning of my slow and lonely death. Still, it must be told.
It takes place starting mid-morning on the 25th day of November in the year 1120. We arrived at Barfleur near the coast of Normandy after confirming the location of the current plot of Aviel Enair, the oldest and most formidable of the three sibling princes.
We lacked the details, but we knew his scheme would involve the sailing vessel known as the White Ship, renowned for its speed and beauty, now carrying the only legitimate heir to King Henry I across the English Channel.
###
Frustration gripped me as I wrapped my arm around myself, trying to catch my breath after running the length of the docks. I called out to my mate, who was approaching behind me.
“It is just as we feared, Aldric. The ship has almost reached the Quilleboeuf!”
As I spoke, three hundred souls sailed away, including other nobles and the heir, and the loss would be catastrophic to the burgeoning English monarchy.
When we learned that the king’s seventeen-year-old son, William Adelin, desired to sail on this elegant vessel while his father sailed ahead of him, and that Aviel had set his sights on it, we considered the hazards the Anurashin prince might exploit. The ship had a good reputation and so did its captain, Thomas FitzStephen, whose father had taken the prince’s grandfather, William the Conqueror, across the same sea.
The only evident risk was sailing past Gatteville, where hidden rocks such as the Quilleboeuf lay waiting for careless sailors. But FitzStephen was surely used to navigating such hazards.
I breathed in the salty air to sharpen my mind while I considered our options. The raucous calls of seagulls ebbed overhead as they congregated, fought, and flew off with morsels of fish as their prize. Despite the size and piercing eyes of the warrior next to me, we stood unnoticed among the throng of bodies rushing toward their duties on the bustling docks.
“You must call Zigan, my love,” Aldric said, drawing me to his side and offering his warmth as I shivered from the urgency of our task and the breeze cooling the sweat of my exertion.
Although we were French, our purpose as part of this prophetic trio was to maintain the balance of power fated for this world in our time. According to Zigan’s archives, when the princes interfered, it fared badly for the human populations.
That meant we were trained to take risks, and we discovered this scheme by becoming captives of the princes at their temporary encampment while each enjoyed inflicting painful retribution on us for our past successes. But Aviel allowed his brothers’ torment to go only so far, which we’d learned to count on, though we didn’t understand it.
Our plan included an escape.
It went perfectly until we ran into a trap and had to leave our pack behind to fight, which also delayed our arrival. A worry was taking hold in me that the last eight years of joy and strife might culminate on these docks. Still, I pushed on.
After placing the insides of my wrists together, my tiger appeared, first as an image on my skin, then as a man stepping out of a gray mist, calmly taking us in with fathomless dark eyes. His markings glowed bright gold against his bronze arms, and his silky black hair waved in the breeze.
“We need to get aboard that ship, Zigan.” I pointed to the sails disappearing north along the coast to Gatteville. “Can you haze us there?”
“Yes, precious one. But I may not have the ability to get you back.”
“Let me go with him,” Aldric said. “If the ship were to sink, and Zigan cannot return us both…” He let that thought trail off as he looked at me in that fierce way that melted my heart.
The powerful love I had for this man, this larger-than-life Norman-born warrior who shared the spirit of a mighty brown bear, still overwhelmed me after all these years. We had not taken one moment of our time for granted, knowing the dangers inherent in my destiny.
“But I must be the one on that ship, Aldric,” I said as I clutched his hand. “We have no idea what is planned, and we need my instincts as a marked maiden.”
“Vous serez remarquée, ma bien-aimée. I can blend in and discern the situation. We must go now, as they quickly approach the rocks.”
I stood on my toes and brought his face close to mine, gazing into his brown eyes to see his bear gleaming at me, a magnificent creature he could transform into at will. Our lips met for an exquisite moment before I stepped back.
“I will bring him back safely,” Zigan said, taking hold of my mate.
They disappeared. I took shelter and waited. They returned in Zigan’s mist in less than thirty minutes.
Aldric and I moved together without thinking, as we did after every parting. Satisfied with the reunion, he gave his report. “Nearly everyone on board was drunk on wine and betting on a race to beat the king to England. The ship sailed fast, pushing its limits. Not more than ten minutes after we arrived, it hit the rocks and foundered.” I gasped in dismay, but he assured me the king’s son had made it to a lifeboat.
Without warning, warriors in the garb of another time appeared in a heavy mist that seemed to roll in from the sea. We assumed battle stances as they surrounded us, Zigan and Aldric drawing their swords. I shouted the cry of the Pack and raised my own blade. The clash of steel rang out across the harbor as bystanders rushed to get out of the way.
We held our own against a dozen until my sword was knocked from my hand. Vice-like arms grabbed me from behind, and Aldric’s roar shook the planks beneath our feet. But the Anurashin warrior kept me from my mate’s reach, letting the others leap in between us, forcing Aldric to slice his way to me.
“The prince has his sights on you, maiden,” the warrior said in my ear. “Did you not think he would succeed?”
“No matter that he tries, I will never be his!”
Springing my knife from my sleeve, I lunged back, shoved it between the ribs of my tormentor, and twisted. The warrior grunted in pain, but his grip did not loosen. Aldric dodged blades, slammed his fists into faces, and rammed bodies while I struggled to pull free.
Zigan moved so fast that arcs of blood hovered in the air where he last appeared. But when he got close enough to reach for me, the warrior jerked us back, and two others lunged for him.
To my utter horror, dual strikes took Zigan’s head.
My knees buckled from the agony tearing through my heart and then through my whole being, as Zigan’s soul was ripped from mine with brutal force. I never imagined our bond could be so viciously severed or that the warrior magus was anything but invincible.
A sickening realization sank like a stone in my belly. This had been Aviel’s plan all along—why he let us escape. He had engineered the entire scheme to kill my magus, seize me, and destroy the Pack de Normande.
What was left of my heart was shattered when Aldric stepped into the path of a blade to reach for me, ignoring the pain, desperate to save me as he felt the agony of my loss and our loss to come.
The mist I dreaded grew thick, and I felt as if I were breaking into tiny pieces. None of this could be happening!
The devastated face of my mate told me he had come to the same incomprehensible conclusion while he watched me fade into bits, so close to him our fingers nearly touched.
I poured my heart and soul into my words. “I will love you forever!”
The sound that followed was the fierce roar of a wounded bear.
Enjoy a Three-Part Supernatural Horror Story – Exactly 100 Words Each
One: Brother’s Maker
Thick rivulets of blood moved down the wall like snakes slithering into Hell. Lucius thought going there himself would be better than mucking out this foul slaughter. Hiding his brother’s crimes from Prince Remus. Death by fire, their punishment if caught.
Linus, too far gone to understand the danger, had killed another valuable hunter. Lucius labored to obliterate the evidence while Linus crouched over an arm sucking out the blood and marrow like a human sucking meat from a crab leg.
Lucius had turned his brother. Watching him deteriorate was penance. Figuring out how to stop it, his only purpose.
Two: Brother’s Keeper
After staring in frustration at the naked woman, Lucius grabbed crumpled newspaper from the trash bin to cover the crime. Blood soaked through, turning print back to pulp. He added more. Didn’t help. Blood spouted like a geyser from her coveted jugular.
Lucius yanked his brother, who’d pounced on her again, away from her neck. “You couldn’t have gone another block?” Linus whipped towards him. Lucius stifled a gasp.
The nerdy, giraffe-legged brother was there… until the eyes turned soulless again, reflecting the red pooling beneath their feet… and Linus’s stark hunger.
Pain stabbed Lucius where his heart once beat.
Three: Brother’s Killer
Lucius cradled Linus’s head… Just his head, which he’d been commanded to remove. Pulling his blurry gaze away from his brother’s headless body nestled in an earthen rectangle, he examined their fateful surroundings. The backend of a damp graveyard, dew glistening on grass, dripping from cypress trees, giant yews. None of it felt real. They’d been vampires for five decades, inseparable until Linus’s self-control deserted him.
Too many council laws broken, making one brother a fugitive, one a hunter.
“You never believed you could be ended. Didn’t you once think brother, that it would be me forced to end you?”
Had to add this. I love making book covers, even for tiny fiction.
First drafts rejected. But I Keep Trying.
I was happy with my first attempt to do a 100-word story. The publisher, not so much. But that’s okay because I learned a lot in the process. These bits about vampire brothers were inspired by a minor character in my Starlight Chronicles series. I admit, pure horror is a challenge for me, though I love reading and watching it, the darker the better. I read Bram Stoker in my youth, along with Mary Shelly, which means those sweeping, tantalizing, horrific impressions are there, deep down, and now that I’m writing fantasy, I’m compelled to draw from their brilliance.
Vlad the Impaler has been an endlessly fascinating figure in history and fiction for me, no matter how many ways his story has been told. And today’s supernatural fantasy authors are finding entertaining ways to retell the tales. Many of them inspired me.
Luke Evans portrayed an excellent fictional Vlad. Dracula Untold sparked my imagination and gave a feel for the period and setting. I was disappointed with its box office failure, which ended hopes of a sequel. In case you haven’t seen it, here’s the trailer.
Please take a moment to read the drabbles above and let me know if I’m on the right track for a story told in exactly 100 words. Better yet, share your own 100-word story in the comments.
Reached 46 of 50 in my annual reading challenge. It was easy this month with four great reads. Lovin’ another fabulous urban fantasy series from Lindsay Buroker. Death Before Dragons. No one does page-turning, urban fantasy set in the PNW, featuring witty banter and fascinating, relatable MMFs better!
Tried a new author, Dianna Love. I really enjoyed this no-nonsense, direct writing style with great action and compelling characters. Glad I tried this book out on a deal. I’ll be going on to the next book in this Wild Wolf Pack series set in the urban fantasy world of the powerful Gallize shifters—Corbin.
Check out my September Spotlight interview with Jade Griffin if you haven’t already—lots of great insights and behind-the-scenes glimpses into the life of a TTRPG writer.
Looking forward to more fun books in October, a lively interview with northern Nevada YA author Sue C. Dugan, and at least two short story writing challenges. Oh, and my last two chemotherapy treatments! I should say, I’m looking forward to the end of my treatments. Until radiation that is.
It’s getting harder to see all the events on this planet that make life overwhelming at best and genuinely depressing at worst. We’ve been re-watching Reacher. Lee Child’s stories effectively depict (in their dramatic and violent way) the human condition and the terrible things people who abandon their humanity can do to others.
They give us an exciting, larger-than-life hero who courageously seeks justice, often inspiring those he meets along the way to stand up to oppressors. Yet, they remind us that it’s okay not to fix every problem, but to do what we can for the ones close to home.
My sister and I both got diagnosed with cancer this year. We started chemo a day apart, and we lost our hair at the same rate. We experience bad days and good days in different ways, and we share our journeys weekly. I mention this because, while we share a lot, we are two very different people, and so are our choices about dealing with the world as we fight our personal battle.
It’s interesting how, when you’re caught up in survival, you begin to contemplate the meaning of life and your place in it, even as your attention narrows to your own physical struggle. I guess it’s natural for some to focus on what they can control and let the things beyond their control blur into the background.
For me, I can disappear into my writing, rewrite the world in speculative fiction. I can listen to my Cake radio station on Pandora (my adored hometown band) while I exercise, or watch the rare good entertainment like Reacher with my hubby while I knit. I’m very grateful for that.
Others do the opposite. Their personal struggle becomes less significant as they take a stand against the unsolvable and march with other brave people.
Despite my efforts at mindfulness and inner peace, events like the terrible mass shooting at a casino a couple of days ago bring chaos crashing back, and I grieve for the world, feeling helpless alongside my neighbors.
That’s when I look up. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. Northern Nevada skies are always inspiring and soothing to the soul, reminding me how tiny and insignificant events on this planet are in the grand scheme of things. Gazing up, away from the chaos on the ground, lets me just be.
No worries as the sinking sun paints the sky until the stars come out. The answers are up there, and someday I’ll understand.
Enjoy this lively chat packed full of great writing tips and resources on writing short stories with fellow northern Nevada writer, writing coach, and public speaker, Linda K. Hardie.
My writer friend Lucky Noma made me a song. He’s an awesome friend and it’s an awesome song.
Captured By the Hunted is a vampire story set in Central Europe and one of three fantasy threesome romance novellas in Les Romances des Trois. Chapter 10 features a main character, vampire enforcer Gedeon Kadar, recalling his life as a Scythian chieftain before being turned. He gave his human life to save his stolen mate, Taclaema.
Lucky’s song was inspired by Azersarta’s tragedy. Les Romances has been republished on Amazon and is available on Kindle Unlimited and Audible.
As a dedicated student of arts and crafts since I could hold a crayon, May is a special month. It’s Mermay! An entire month dedicated to mermaid art.
Since I write more than engage in any other creative activity these days, I’m offering a short story, Beneath the Prismed Light, in celebration. It features a selkie (another wonderful mythical sea creature) and a lighthouse keeper in a romantic dystopian fantasy. A brief history of the selkies is included in the end pages.
This story, with its surprise twist on the lore, is free to my newsletter subscribers. This month I’m sharing it here.
The center photo is one of my attempts at Mermay art, and I had fun trying some digital manipulation for different effects.
If you want to peruse some (much better) whimsical, fun art, hashtag Mermay or Mermay25 on Instagram or Facebook.
My friend, author J. K. Divia, is offering a Mermay, Selkie Takeover giveaway in collaboration with other authors. I participated last year, and will do so again in 2026. Check it out and good luck on winning some great books and swag.
I’ll leave you with a YouTube video from one of my favorite Mermay contributors, although I’m pretty sure mixed media artist James Burke creates mermaids all year long.
I have all of his Washi tape and use it liberally in my journals. Perhaps you’ll discover the wonder of watching this art come to life and be inspired to create some of your own.
~ Mareduke is the last of his kind, and if the humans have their way, no dragons at all will exist in Kassia. Then, he meets two remarkable beings intent on changing his fate. ~
New Artwork!
I hope you enjoy this story I submitted to a contest where the prompts required a dragon meet a toddler in the forest, and the followed from the encounter. This was a joy to write.
Mareduke’s bloody, scaled head froze mid-dip. He reeled his tongue back in and stared at the child across the water. A long, cool drink was critical to his state of near-death, but he gave it up to inspect the reflection cast into the mountain lake by the tiny person on the grassy ledge.
An image of a girl, not much more than two, wrapped in a cloak, wavered over the gleaming surface. The sun glinted on that spot as if shining a beacon on the proof he sought. He raised his eyes to the embankment again.
The toddler was real, and she was staring back.
His snort displaced the water below his face. She would just have to watch while he drank because he was losing blood faster than his magic could heal him. There were too many wounds. Enough to end him if he couldn’t hydrate and rest.
The humans’ trap this time was multilayered and rigged with an exorbitant number of blades that had pulled Mareduke further down a natural pit with every move he made. They must have spent weeks designing all the intricate hazards.
He had come close to losing his head to a saw blade, and a broadsword had missed his heart by inches when it lodged between his ribs. But when he quit panicking long enough to halt the agonizing plummet, he was able to gather his magic and break free with enough momentum to gain altitude and escape the armed contingent of dragon assassins waiting for him on the surface.
He had spit his wrath at the failed murderers as he flew away, but they jeered at him when his usual rain of fire barely amounted to a drizzle and his wounded body listed sideways. He didn’t care. At this stage of life, he was accustomed to the humans and their collective superior attitude towards him and his dying species.
Still, he couldn’t understand their brutal solution to his thievery. He wasn’t there to hurt them, just grab a meal, a plump sheep or two, only because they had a penful of the tasty morsels too tempting to resist. Why did all humans insist on trying to kill him before his time? As far as Mareduke knew, he was the end of the line, and the idea, when he let himself dwell on it, that humans couldn’t share the whole of the Kingdom of Kassia with even one of his kind offended him.
The dragon had pushed himself to get to this refuge where he could recover his strength. He was surprised he had made it. Maybe it was the loss of blood that brought him this tiny vision because humans rarely came to this lake so high in the mountains, and a child would never survive the trek with or without accompaniment. Yet, it was getting harder to deny he beheld one standing at the water’s edge alone, appearing as if she were on a picnic.
He settled on his haunches, resting his chin on his front paws to better observe her. She hadn’t made a sound, only sticking her finger in her mouth as she looked around before focusing on him again.
This was the most bizarre thing he’d experienced in his young dragon life. What was she? He presumed she was human, but she could be anything. He considered how he might find out since neither of them could speak to the other.
Mareduke examined her for clues. Her cloak was made of fine, blue-dyed cloth with a glimmer weaving through that spoke of magic. Her wavy mop of strawberry-blond hair and clothing appeared clean, though her feet were bare.
That made him wonder if she was cold, but then he thought not. It was mild this time of year, even at this elevation.
While he sorted her out, she made herself comfortable as well, plopping down on a fluffy tuft of grass, her stubby legs sticking straight out, toes wiggling as they stretched toward the water. She got busy plucking nearby wildflowers until she gripped an entire bouquet in her small hand.
In between peeking at him, she observed other bits of life in her immediate vicinity, her finger returning absently to her mouth. He watched in amusement when she sniffed the pungent flowers, and her nose wrinkled. Still, she offered her collection a happy smile.
Mareduke grew more entranced when nature began to react to the tiny being. As it had done to her reflection earlier, sunbeams coalesced above her, dust motes dancing around her head like tiny fairies. Two bees drifted toward the flowers before darting at the nectar. Butterflies flitted around her smiling face.
A few woodland creatures crept close. A rabbit rose on its hind legs above the grass, wriggling its nose in her direction. A pair of doves settled in a branch and cooed. A doe and her fawns watched it all from the shade of a tree. Squirrels, hedgehogs, and even a young fox made an appearance. None of the creatures paid attention to Mareduke, their fascination centering on the pleasant child.
Mareduke thought that even with her mysterious aura, she had parents somewhere who were worrying about her. But what was even more curious than her origin was how she had come to be here.
The dragon froze when something crashed through the trees.
The life clustering around the child scattered, leaving her blinking at their sudden absence. She stood and turned towards the growls and cracking branches. A mountain troll was nearing, clearly unconcerned with announcing his presence. Typical. They stink, too. Mareduke should have smelled the vile creature long before he heard him, but he’d been distracted.
He needed to decide what to do about the child directly in his path. The troll would sooner snack on her than look at her, and the only thing to stop the voracious brute was Mareduke, but he was still weak from his injuries.
When the bulbous head popped out from the trees, Mareduke wasted no more time thinking. He flapped his wings and, in two strokes, landed between the oncoming threat and the helpless toddler.
The troll’s red-rimmed gaze fixed on Mareduke as he bore down on him with a club gripped in both hands. The ground shook under them as the beast closed in, his roars deafening.
Mareduke laid his wing over the ground and motioned for the little one to hop on. But she just stared at him as if unaffected by the approaching menace.
The absurdity of his situation made Mareduke want to snort in protest. Here he was, a perpetual target of human violence, getting ready to lay down his life for one of their offspring, if that’s what she was, because she couldn’t grasp that it was imperative to climb on.
He inhaled with everything he had in him for one good burst of fire, even as he indulged in the stories they would tell of his sacrifice on behalf of the enemy. That glorious notion deflated a bit when he remembered there was no one but a baby to witness his death.
Still, he drew in his breath. If he were destroyed, she would have no chance at all. He launched his fire. The paltry flames stopped the oncoming troll—for all of ten seconds.
The child tucked beneath him tapped the bottom of his chest with a fist so small he could barely feel it. But it got his attention. She smiled at him and clapped her hands, and Mareduke experienced an entirely new sensation. The air turned heavy, then seemed to curl in on itself.
His stomach lurched, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were in a flower-covered meadow surrounded by jagged mountain peaks. He didn’t recognize the mountains, and there was no sign of the troll.
###
When Mareduke’s world stopped tilting, he took in his surroundings. A hut squatted near a giant oak tree with a stone fireplace taking up an entire end. Smoke curled from the chimney. There was a garden with neat rows of vegetables. A milk cow poked its head through a half door in a miniature barn as it chewed its cud. A raven cawed from the roof, and the child’s face split into a wide smile.
She waved at the bird, which squawked louder, stretched, and flapped its wings before flying to the ground and landing at the dragon’s feet, where it proceeded to change into a tall, bearded man in flowing robes.
“Well done, Eliana,” the man said, smiling down at the child. “You found him.” He peered up at Mareduke. “Can you understand my words, dragon?” Mareduke dipped his snout, and the man continued, “Judging by your copious wounds, your guardian was nearly too late.” Guardian?
Mareduke glanced at the small, grinning face, catching the flicker in her blue eyes.
“Have you no knowledge of the Western Woodland Fae?” the man asked him. Mareduke cocked his head, and the man explained. “The fairies who guard all living creatures in Kassia, though their relationship with dragons is the most sacred. One like Eliana is born every eight hundred years, give or take, with a special affinity for dragons, and a destiny that compels her to do all in her power to preserve the species.”
When Mareduke continued to stare, he added, “You must have raised yourself, young dragon, just as I theorized. You are truly alone, then?” Mareduke bobbed his snout. “What is your name? Wait, allow me to place my staff over your heart. I will be able to hear you in my mind.”
Curious to experience this, Mareduke allowed it. The oaken staff was strangely warm and comforting, which made it easy to respond. I am Mareduke. Will you please tell me who you are and where this is?
The man stepped back and said with a poignant smile, “Eliana. Meet Mareduke, quite possibly the last of his kind.” His smile brightened. “Though Eliana and I harbor hopes that won’t be the case. Don’t we, child?”
The tiny person laughed and said his name in a musical child’s voice, and the sound struck a chord in his heart.
“I am Pantheos, young Mareduke,” the man said after a bow and a sweep of his staff. “An old wizard, retired from the academy where I spent a lifetime studying dragons and their history, all in preparation for meeting up with little Eliana here when it was time. Your time, Mareduke. Finding you is one part of our task. The other is to find your mate. If we don’t, then all hope for the dragons is lost. What do you think about this purpose?”
Mareduke snorted and shook his great wings as the staff again touched his chest. It was liberating to have a voice, and he spoke. I hatched alone and believed I would die alone, accepting that fate marked me as the last of my kind. I never considered that another dragon waited for me somewhere. Can it really be possible?
“We have evidence she exists, or at least existed,” Pantheos said. “Her name is Cindra.”
All at once, Mareduke’s weakened state got the better of him, and he plopped on his haunches.
“Please, forgive my thoughtlessness!” the wizard said.
He pointed his staff at the well behind them, and a splash sounded from a bucket dropping into the water, followed by a creaking when the wizard’s magic operated the crank to pull it back up. Pantheos stepped to the well, retrieved the bucket, and brought it to Mareduke, repeating the process Mareduke supposed until the wizard was sure he wouldn’t keel over.
As he lapped up the sweet water, Eliana settled on his front leg close to his head and patted his cheek.
He flinched when a voice spoke in his mind, sounding anything but childish.
I am sorry you suffered such abuse today, Mareduke. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the part of Eliana that always exists, and I am very pleased to meet you. I would have found you earlier if my information had included your foray into that village. But everything Pantheos and I knew of you pointed to the lake once you ventured out for food.
He tilted an eye at her. Your kind must hatch fully developed, like dragons. Otherwise, how can you sound like a grown person? Her little-girl laughter lifted his heart, and he was sure his healing sped up by a day. She explained more.
I am an old soul, aware of my occupation inside this organic being who must grow in a mother’s womb before existing. I am both child and your spirit guardian, and my entire purpose is to see that you survive to have offspring of your own. But we must first find a way to make peace between dragons and humans.
How are you speaking to me now, and why not at the lake?
First, you needed to get used to the idea of me as a child, and I needed to observe you. When your heart opened to the possibilities, we were able to connect.
When Mareduke woke this morning with an empty stomach and the misguided plan to raid that village, no one could have persuaded him that by the end of the day, he would no longer be alone.
He puffed out a tiny bit of air to ruffle her hair, making the child laugh. Her ageless voice sounded again.
So long as Pantheos and I draw breath, you will never again feel the bite of loneliness.
Mareduke aimed his snout at Pantheos’s staff, and the wizard nodded, touching it to his chest.
I understand a little now about the soul called Eliana, but please tell me more about the child and how she retrieved a grown dragon on her own and brought us here. His big green eye swiveled back to the tiny being. Don’t you have parents?
“Eliana is my ward,” Pantheos said, “and her powerful Fae magic is why we have this arrangement. It is part of my destiny to help her learn to control her magic and to train her as a guardian. Though her soul has experienced this before, the child must learn how to function in this role. Her parents knew what she was when she was born, and they sought me out. She has a mark, you see.”
The pintsize Fae swept her cloak over her shoulder and showed Mareduke the small dragon’s eye on her forearm. The mark was more proof that he should listen to them, and Mareduke wondered how he could have lived all this time without knowing about the Western Woodland Fae and the guardians.
Trepidation struck him. Eliana felt it and turned to her mentor. Once again, the staff covered Mareduke’s heart, and the dragon spoke his worry in their minds.
If humans are my enemy, what about the danger to those who come to my aid?
“Well, yes,” Pantheos said. “You’ve grasped the tricky part. That is why you do not recognize these landmarks. Eliana brought you through a portal to a place the humans cannot find, the land of the Kassian gnomes. You won’t see them, but the nature-loving beings are all around this clearing, watching, never having seen a dragon.” Mareduke glanced around in interest as Pantheos continued.
“And you’ve addressed the other reason her parents left her in my care. Our best chance to meet our destiny and all the challenges it will bring is to combine our strengths. The plan is for you to help us locate your mate. Time is of the essence because the last known female dragon faces the same hazards as you.
“We’ve traced her territory, which includes the Western Woodlands. But we have not received word of Cindra for some weeks.” After this troubling news, the wizard rubbed his hands together. “Now. Did you consume any sheep in that raid? Or do you require a meal?”
Eliana pressed her hand to Mareduke’s chest and conveyed his answer in halting toddler words as if the ageless one had retreated. “He ate before being caught in the trap. He’s good for a day or two.”
“Fine,” Pantheos said. “We’ll catch you up and plan our expedition while you finish recovering.”
Mareduke’s head was spinning. Yet, everything his new friends said felt right. Eliana felt right, even if her dual nature was a bit disconcerting, and he knew this little glen was where he was supposed to be at that moment.
As for the future, he thought to himself, could there really exist another dragon in Kassia? What if something has happened to this one called Cindra? What if it hasn’t and we meet, and she hates the sight of me? Or worse, I can’t stand her?
He snorted, filling the air with small puffs of smoke. None of that mattered if it meant he was no longer the last of his kind.
###
The third time Mareduke had to insert himself between the villagers and the magnificent silver dragon belching molten fire, he began to seriously question the necessity of pairing up with his own kind.
No one told him female dragons were bigger than males, stronger, and could set half a town on fire with one blast.
And Mareduke had made her angry.
It took two weeks to investigate the leads the three had narrowed down and one more to pinpoint the most likely location for them to find Cindra.
Having left Pantheos and Eliana in a safe place, Mareduke arrived at the south edge of the Western Woodlands just in time to save what was left of a town under attack by the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
Cindra had strategically wiped out the village center and the humans who could best organize a defense. The villagers were scattering in all directions, disappearing into the woods, jumping in the lake, and hiding in rock crevices up the side of the adjacent mountain. And still, she circled her quarry, laying down fire to cut off retreats and destroy crops, livestock, and any other industry critical to the inhabitants’ livelihoods.
His best guess, if anyone were to ask him, was that his female counterpart didn’t like humans. And she just added him to that list, judging by how she bore down on him now, which made Mareduke grateful for his smaller size. She might be a powerhouse, but he could fly circles around her, and he proceeded to do that as he led her away from the village by stages to the secluded mountain meadow where his friends waited.
He just needed to figure out how to calm her down before they arrived.
Did the humans offend you?
He tossed that question her way as he dove under her belly.
She twisted her body and flew backward, aiming fire at him when she had a clear shot. He swerved, and it hit a shelf of snow and caused a small avalanche. He circled a mountain spire, disappearing from her view, then found a spot behind her to try again.
Is this how you treat all your new friends? he couldn’t help asking.
I have no friends, you muddy-colored dragon. Who do you think you are, interfering with my retribution? Flames shot from her nostrils. Are you a coward, hiding behind my back?
Mareduke snorted.
I can’t help that your size shields me from your eyes, even as it blocks the sun.
Cindra roared.
Mareduke had stopped feeling intimidated halfway to their destination, and he continued even as he ducked her fire.
The humans try to kill me on a regular basis. But I am bigger than them, and I don’t believe in using my advantages to harm others.
Well. Aren’t you the saintly one? Is this why you showed up out of nowhere? To protect humans?
Uh… Sort of. My friends and I have heard of you. You do realize there aren’t many of us around?
So what?
Why are you angry?
Why do you care? And where are you taking us?
Hmmm. So, she noticed. He didn’t think anything other than the truth would work, so he went for it.
My friends have been searching for you and want to meet you. They only recently found me, and when they told me you existed, I wanted to meet you, too. I’m Mareduke. Will you be peaceable if I take you to them? They are beings of the two-legged variety.
Since you’ve made me curious, I promise not to harm your puny friends, but I’m not promising to stick around. I have things to do.
Eliana stood in full sight, grinning at them as they circled the meadow and clapping her hands in delight.
What is that? Cindra’s voice in his head was scathing as she emphasized each word. That tiny being is one of your friends?
Her name is Eliana. Mareduke made sure to put plenty of warning in his own tone. And yes, she is my friend.
Where are your other friends?
There are only two. Now, will you land with me and let us explain?
I said I would, and I will.
###
Eliana’s toddler charm had little effect on the dragon with the bad attitude, but Cindra’s reaction to Pantheos when he stepped out of the trees surprised Mareduke. She went down on one fore-knee and bowed her head.
“You know who I am?” Pantheos asked her after returning a bow. The silver head bobbed. “Would you be amenable to drinking this potion so I can hear you? It is how I communicate with Mareduke.”
Cindra agreed with another nod, and Pantheos spoke in an ancient tongue as he turned his staff halfway around, then back again, and a bucket of water appeared in front of each dragon. It was only then that Mareduke realized he was parched.
The huge dragon waited patiently for Pantheos to add a few drops to her bucket. As she drank, Eliana stepped close enough to reach out and touch the silvery, scaled face. Cindra ignored her until the small hand caressed the bridge of her snout. She stiffened before aiming a sable eye at the bold child. When Eliana’s laughter bubbled out, Cindra jerked back and rose to her full height.
Mareduke spotted the warmth in her gaze before she hid it.
“I am pleased to finally meet you, Cindra,” Pantheos said.
It is an honor to meet you, High Mage. My mother told me the story of how you came to her aid. Your intervention with the humans enabled her to reach the nesting grounds. Otherwise, I might not be here. Cindra’s visage darkened. The humans killed her not many years later.
“I am sorry. I was informed of the tragedy and tried to find you, but you’ve kept yourself well hidden, other than coming out for those raids that have made you notorious.”
Do you know of my father, High Mage?
“Please, call me Pantheos. Yes, and I was there to help your mother through her despair. You have my deepest sympathies for the loss of both your parents, maiden dragon. That is why my young apprentice and I have not given up our search. It was Mareduke’s abilities that allowed us to finally succeed. It is our purpose to ensure your parents’ fate does not befall the two of you. You are the last of your kind.”
Cindra, after casting a scornful eye at Mareduke, looked down her snout at the toddler, who was still smiling at her.
Who, or should I say what, is this child?
“She is a dragon guardian. Do you know of such ones?”
I’ve heard of these fae. I have respect for her people and leave them out of my reckoning. It is only the humans who deserve my wrath. And you are keeping me from my next engagement. So, I’m afraid I must take my leave.
Mareduke scoffed.
That’s it? You can’t give us any more of your precious time to learn about your other choice?
Let me guess. My other choice involves mating with you. No thanks. I’m fine on my own.
Mareduke’s brownish-green scales glowed bronze, and his emerald eyes blazed with his indignation. A chuff of surprise was Cindra’s only reaction to the impressive sight, and she spread her wings in preparation for taking off.
Mareduke got in the last word when she was aloft.
We might be fine on our own… but should we be?
The last four words were louder in their heads than he intended because Cindra was already a mere speck in the distance. The reverberation elicited a squeal from Eliana as she plopped on her bottom.
It was the ancient guardian who spoke next in a voice covering the distance to the disappearing dragon.
We will meet again, dear friend.
###
Mareduke was not sure why he made the effort to track down the unpleasant maiden dragon … again. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand her pain. Part of him would like to give in to vengeance for the violence that ended his own parents’ lives. But he’d long ago come to terms with his principles over killing. Nothing good came of it.
He thought Cindra might believe that, deep down, somehow sensing that her destructive ways ate at her. Convincing her to change was another matter. Eliana and Pantheos assured him it was worth a try, so they flew with him to yet another human village they had pegged on their map of Cindra’s territory.
Mareduke didn’t want to admit it, but he could feel her in his heart, which assured him they were on the right path. He wasn’t ready to face the idea his sensitivity was due to a mate bond already forming, so he put that thought away.
They saw the blaze rising above the trees before they spotted the silver dragon camouflaged against a low cloud. He sent his thoughts to his passengers.
She is one headstrong beast. But this village was prepared. Do you see the trebuchets lined up around the perimeter? The brave ones are determined to load them even as some die under her fire.
“And it appears half contain buckets of tar, while half are fireballs,” Pantheos observed. “That is quite a defense.”
I foresee those wicked devices causing her death, the guardian said in a grim voice. We must disarm them.
I will not risk you, Eliana. We should put you down somewhere safe.
You needn’t worry about me, Mareduke. We have one shot at a pass while they are focused on her. Let’s go.
The little one was right. Mareduke flew low and fast, knocking the legs out from most of the machines before the humans realized another dragon had descended on them.
The flaming ammunition dropped to the ground, and the villagers scrambled to put out their fires. But they were prepared, tying cloths over their mouths and pulling covers over each spot to snuff out the flames.
Still, Mareduke couldn’t fly to them all fast enough.
“To your right!” Pantheos shouted.
The trebuchets still standing were repositioned, tar buckets set ablaze, and aimed their way. Besides the tar, fire from above rained down from a device before he could topple it. Mareduke twisted and shot up, managing to dodge the tar, but the flames hit his flank, and he faltered under the searing pain.
Hang on! He alerted his passengers. I can get us away.
Even as he listed to the side, he managed to power his wings enough to lift above the machines, but not out of range of a tar bucket, which hurtled towards his chest. If he ducked the wrong way, the flaming missile would splatter his precious cargo. He braced himself for the pain, staying his path.
A silver wing arced between them and the tarry danger. Mareduke roared out his fear for Cindra. The bigger dragon smashed the bucket to the ground with her outstretched wing, which collapsed the remaining trebuchets, but not before her wing was doused with the thick, molten goo. She careened sideways, then crashed to the ground.
The smell of gaseous tar and burning dragon flesh filled Mareduke’s nostrils.
The humans closed in with more tar and torches.
Set us down next to Cindra, Pantheos commanded. Mareduke wasted no time landing in a way that allowed him to shield the injured dragon struggling to stand.
Cindra’s voice, full of pain and frustration, rang in his head, her eyes glowing with admiration.
What are you doing, you murky dragon? Go! Get that child away from here!
Prismatic beams flared from Pantheos’s staff in every direction. The humans stopped to shield their eyes before spotting the source standing atop Mareduke’s back.
“I am the High Mage, Pantheos. I bring a decree from the King who has sworn to protect the last of the dragon kind, provided my apprentice and I find them alive. We have fulfilled our task. These sacred creatures are all that is left. It is not right to destroy them.” He paused, “Or that they exact revenge on you, but that will change. There will be a peaceful coexistence. Eliana and I will see to it. Now, stand down and let us leave with the injured dragon.”
One of the men stepped forward.
“Many have died today. What does King Lathan say about that?”
Eliana reached for Pantheos, who picked her up so she could face the crowd. A beam of sunlight washed over the child. A pair of doves appeared from nowhere and landed on each shoulder, cooing gently. Butterflies likewise appeared, flitting delicately over her head.
The sweet, halting voice of a child sounded across the smoldering village. “There has been much death on both sides. It must end here.”
Though many in the crowd appeared swayed by her compelling tone and peaceful magic, the man called out again, “Until there is a king who will decide differently. My descendants may yet avenge our dead.” “That may be,” the little one said, “if you decide that to be your legacy. For now, let there be peace, and let me go home with my friends. For I promise you, one day you will need them.”
Artwork by D. L. Lewellyn using Photoleap and Canva.
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Past drafts gone in a puff! Or, with the magic delete button. If I were an angsty writer of a past century, the pages would have been burned. I know an author who actually did burn his first draft, but that’s his story to tell, and it’s a good one.
I’ve been doing a lot of purging this month, getting ready for a big disruption in my life, so why not purge my drafts and give you my latest…
Enjoy meeting Onyx, who has the honor of opening my story… his story.
March 27, 2025
The Dragon
Onyx – Deep Inside Ben Shiel, Western Scottish Highlands, UK – Late June
In the mountain’s dim recesses, a dragon lay coiled in slumber on a granite shelf, snorting smoke rings at invisible foes. His fiery exhales turned to steam in the damp air, sending ashy tendrils writhing around his fearsome spikes before dissipating like miniature storm clouds.
His eyelids fluttered, one popping open to reveal a midnight blue iris flashing off a bank of dazzling quartz crystals before shutting again. His nostrils flared as if scenting danger.
It wasn’t just his face in motion. The dragon’s great wing jerked before his hind leg pumped the air. The vigorous movements sent scree tumbling off the edge and clattering into icy pools far below, inciting twittering protests from the deeper, more secretive inhabitants.
These disturbances did not trouble Ben Shiel. Upheavals were a constant in the mountain’s life, caused by forces more relentless than his winged friend. On the contrary, the dragon’s visits were comforting and far too rare. It was unusual for Michael Elliott, the mountain’s steward, to shift into dragon form and withdraw, allowing the beast an independent physical existence.
And so Onyx, the mighty dragon, as black as his name implied, slept in the cradle of the mountain and dreamed…
###
Michael, watch out!
“Onyx?” Michael inquired mildly through our bond as he straightened from his inspection.
My human should have been alarmed by my voice and ready when the silent missile, whizzing out of the trees, burrowed into his neck. The charge tore agonizingly through every nerve in his body. I knew this—remembered it. But I didn’t feel it. Why?
The rift. We were in Alaska during the Anurashin conflict. Another dream?
Panic gripped my heart, but the vision would not release me. I was inside Michael, watching as he went from stooping over the dead caribou he was examining to planting face-first in the bloody snow without the slightest awareness to stop his fall. Not a single muscle on the powerful shifter even had time to twitch.
The carcass must have distracted me, the blood and exposed flesh stirring my hunger—a foolish mistake when Michael’s physical body was in control.
A Great Horned Owl toppled out of a spruce tree, landing beside us—shot by another bolt before he could take flight. Michael would be frantic if he knew his friend had fallen, worrying more for Ozzy than himself.
My voice sounded feeble even to me as I called out to my human host. My frustration turned to icy horror when a barely perceptible pop signaled the worst thing imaginable, and the tether binding our souls began to unravel. This time, the pain felt real as I shattered into a thousand pieces and began swirling inside a vortex, like a barrow full of leaves picked up and carried by the wind. Once again, death by separation threatened us both.
I reassembled in a place devoid of substance. Yet, I hadn’t vanished completely, and my senses remained intact, as evidenced by the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow.
“What do we do with the owl?” said a woman, her voice tight with apprehension. “I acted on orders without thinking.”
A man replied in a tone no less grim. “We’ll claim we killed the spy. Hopefully, the owl will recover from the human dose and find his way back to the pack.”
“If Airzoih…”
“Welcome to the deadly game I’ve been playing, little sister.”
The siblings lifted my human, propping him between them as a cool misty force coalesced around us. A single step into the charged haze transported us from the Alaskan wilderness to a damp, echoing space that smelled of the sea. After stripping Michael of his clothes and securing him to a rough-hewn bench, the pair retreated into their mist. A day passed in silent darkness, Michael unconscious for most of it.
Before he came to, the brother returned, but not in human form. I recognized his scent and something more. Snorting breaths, shuffling wings, and a massive, spiny tail scraping against stone. The scent picture was complete. This was the dragon who’d been spying on us for weeks, the reason we were investigating the caribou. His shallow breathing sounded from the recesses as he settled in to wait.
Michael came awake, heart pounding, his agony raging as his body fought to heal. Without our bond, he wasn’t repairing as he should. But he was an alpha. It would take more than debilitating pain to keep him from assessing his situation. Just as he spotted the ruby-red dragon in the shadows, the beast transformed in a shower of crackling energy, the bolts illuminating the cavern in strobe-like flashes before the shadows fell back into place.
A man stepped into the thin light provided by a small crevice, struck a flint against the wall by the cell doors, and lit a torch. The shadows receded, and we got our first look at the enemy. Dark blonde hair swept back from a face like that in a Greek fresco. His lavender eyes were shadowed with weary conflict. A man forced too long to act against his nature.
Your dragon was stolen, Michael Elliott, by Prince Airzoih’s illegal magic. I can only imagine the pain you’re in. He means to kill you after toying with you. You need to convince me to stop him.”
“And who are you?” Michael rasped between parched lips.
“There’s water above you.” The man said, gesturing to a dripping straw-sized bamboo shoot jutting from a larger bamboo pipe near Michael’s head. Michael drank—and drank some more—until his stomach heaved, and he spewed half of the water back out.
“It’s mostly desalinated. You’ll be fine. To answer your question. I’m the only reasonable offspring Airzoih spawned.”
“Where are we?”
“Far from your pack, Alpha.”
“You’re the dragon spy.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to the owl?”
“I’m afraid he got zapped too. I don’t think he fared well.”
Michael swallowed down the news, tucking it away for later.
“How does the prince benefit from targeting me?”
“Airzoih wants us to eliminate dragon shifters so that his hybrid army reigns supreme,” the man replied, glibly divulging his sire’s plans. “You’re our initiation.” Derision entered his relaxed tone. “Degrading a powerful alpha will prove we’re a success—one he can glorify while he weakens the opposition.”
“How does he have children who can summon a dragon?”
“Our mother is Fiona McIver.” Michael jolted at the news.
“We lost Fiona in the Fae War,” he ground out. “I saw her go down.” He referred to a war long over but never forgotten.
“All part of my father’s plan, and one reason he aligned himself with the opposing coven. It’s the witches’ dark potion that incapacitates you and suppresses your dragon. Fiona’s, too.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I want your help to save my mother…”
A purple mist came to life in the center of the cavern, interrupting him. When it cleared, four dragons loomed large. The beasts snapped and snarled at each other for space until, one by one, they changed into three men and a woman. They bore a striking resemblance to the one who’d been bargaining with Michael, and they glared their greetings to each other with the same astonishing, lavender eyes. I recognized the woman’s scent from the forest.
When she caught sight of Michael, her expression turned feral, and she sauntered toward his crudely assembled cage. “You don’t look so legendary, Alpha of the Fire Star Pack,” she said, eyes gleaming a deeper violet. She gazed at Michael’s form like a predator, passing her tongue over her lips. Michael’s body reacted, his skin prickling with heat despite his pain receptors still firing like rockets.
“Fiona told us stories about you and Onyx when we were children,” she purred. “Do you miss him? Is it painful? Fiona still cries for Nangelica. It’s hard to imagine such a deep wound in my soul since my dragon is just a façade. Heizan says the separation is tearing our mother apart.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “Fiona can still kick my father’s ass if he fails to take the proper precautions. I wonder how strong you are without your dragon’s spirit
“That’s enough, Halil,” Heizan said under his breath. He didn’t seem interested in drawing the other siblings’ attention, leaving them to their mumbled discussion in a dark corner.
Despite the woman’s practiced posturing, I sensed a battle waging in her. It surprised her. But it was Michael who astonished me when she failed to offend him, not because he was indifferent. He saw beyond her contempt, recognized something in those amethyst windows to her soul that touched a place few had reached. It only made him look closer.
By D. L. Lewellyn 