Drakeward’s body shines like gold leaf with an amber glow, stoked by a roaring internal fire.
The golden dragon raises its massive head and meets my gaze. Then it beats its wings twice, sending a gust of wind and dust through the desert, and takes off into the brilliant white sky.
We watch.
“That was incredible,” the professor mutters. “Fascinating; a full ontological shift.”
I don’t know what that means, but I do know the blonde Elite devil is not a devil at all.
He’s a dragon.
I should have guessed.
Legend has it that dragons are selfish and foul tempered, plus they’re overconfident and ambitious.
That fits.
And what about centaurs? They are arrogant creatures; hedonistic, wild and untameable. Centaurs are not team players and lack self-control. I don’t know if I’m a ‘team player’. I’ve never been on a team.
I follow the dragon’s progress as the professor is muttering about the physics of flight, maybe a little jealous of the dragon’s ability? That is confusing, because why would you want to be untethered up there in the air, instead of grounded down on the earth? The earth is where the most powerful energy resides.
No, I’ll stay here. Hopefully. I guess it depends on my DNA.
The others had been discussing ancestry and family lines. I understand what they are saying, but the conversation is not for me. Even if I could join in, I have no way of knowing my magical lineage.
My past is a blank slate.
And my spark is also an unknown quantity. Sometimes it burns hot, like blue flames scorching my bones—other times it is nonexistent. So, I’ve learned to follow my instincts rather than rely on spellwork. The few spells I do know, I taught myself, but casting doesn’t sit right in my body. I’m not a natural witch.
My instinct says it’s not for me.
My instinct is also shouting loudly that I will change and shift into something soon. The atmosphere here, the raw magic, is seeping into my pores, feeding the long asleep creature under my skin.
It’s not a dragon or a centaur. It’s…different.
The dragon wheels around the sky, letting out roaring drafts of fire. He must choose to use his power to protect my nymph, or he is of no use and should be dismissed. Dismissed permanently. I scan the beast, looking for a weakness in its armor. The scales look impenetrable, but the eye socket is soft. If he turns on her, that is where I will drive my fist. I will tear the wings from his back if he brings even a shadow of harm to her.
I flex then clench my hands.
Harm.
The thought jolts me; my Nymph has been out of sight for thirteen minutes. Unacceptable.
I start walking, following the tracks in the sand the centaur left.
Why did I let her go? If something has happened…I can’t.
I can’t live.
“How far can they have gone?” the professor says, walking beside me.
I ignore him.
“Ludo, you doing alright?” the professor asks, nudging me on the arm.
I give him a brief nod, and he takes that as an invitation to continue talking, unfortunately. “It’ll be interesting to see what Drakeward makes of this experience. It’ll give us something to work with in preparation for our own shifts. Though it’s not in Drakeward’s nature to be helpful in any way.”
After we’ve been walking for maybe thirty minutes the dragon comes in to land, kicking up plumes of white dust, maybe twenty feet away. A beat passes, then a sound reaches me; it’s a wet, snapping, sucking noise. When it settles, the dragon is back in his human form, once again fully dressed.
