by T. S. Ryder
A few minutes later, Sullivan ran into Cynthia’s store. It felt like his heart had been ripped right out of his chest. He gasped for air, looking desperately for his lover. To his horror, he saw Attar, laying motionlessly on the counter, but no sign of Cynthia. He rushed forward, picking up the little dragon, who now felt like lead in his hands. As he did, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. He picked it up, his heart racing.
Dearest Brother,
I hope this note finds you in good health. I hear a few decades in exile can really do a dragon some good. It has come to my attention that you have finally found yourself a mate and that she’s carrying your child. As you’re probably aware, I’ve almost reached my two hundred and fiftieth year and with you in exile that leaves the throne open for the taking, and mark my words: it will be mine. But of course, that will not happen if the woman remains alive. I simply cannot allow you to return to our midst and humiliate our family name any further. I am putting an end to this right now. I hope you realize that it is for the best.
Sincerely,
Your loving brother
Weston.
Chapter Eleven
Sullivan crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, anger flowing through him. He couldn’t believe his brother would stoop so low. He ground his teeth, his blood boiling in his veins. He threw the paper to the ground and then grabbed Attar, quickly breathing life into him. “Do you know where he took her?” The little dragon shook his head in dismay. He had been disenchanted before being able to discover Weston’s plans.
“Very well,” Sullivan said. “Go back to the shop and make sure no one steals anything.” The dragon nodded, jumping down and scampering away, making sure none of the humans saw him as he slipped into the neighboring store.
With his mind buzzing, Sullivan grabbed Cynthia’s wand, shoving it into his pocket, before he rushed out of the store, and closed the door, making his way to the stairs. He knew this building had to have roof access somewhere. Finally, he found the door he was looking for and pushed it open, even as an alarm started to blare, warning people to evacuate the building as quickly as they could.
Once he was on the roof, Sullivan felt a cold drizzle caress the side of his face. The sky was bleak and dark, much like his mood. All he could think about was Cynthia. Was she okay? What was Weston planning to do with her? He clenched his fists and looked out at the horizon, half-expecting to see a dragon flying off into the distance, but there was nothing of the sort. He would just have to find Cynthia the old-fashioned way.
Closing his eyes, he channeled every bit of energy he had in his body. His heart started to hammer, growing large, his skin growing scales and his body shapeshifting. In a blur of limbs and scales, Sullivan started to change until the building beneath him groaned with the effort of supporting a ten-ton dragon.
Sullivan opened his eyes, now red as wine, and roared powerfully, the anguish he felt in his heart echoing throughout. He spread his massive wings and stretched out his long neck, his iridescent black scales shining even with the lack of sunlight. His talons dug into the concrete, destroying it with ease. His tail whipped back and forth, the spikes at its end making cracks on the mall’s rooftop.
Suddenly, he soared into the air, quickly disguised by the thick mass of clouds. A few humans huddled outside the mall, waiting for the alarm to subside blinked in surprise, wondering if they had just imagined the giant black serpent that had jumped off the roof. Murmurs flowed through the crowd, as they tried to find an explanation for the impossible.
Sullivan, in the meantime, had already covered quite some distance. His large, leathery wings propelled him forward, each flap like a tiny sonic boom that made him faster than any other airborne creature. His mind was focused on Cynthia, picturing her smiling face and beautiful hazel eyes. The sound of her laughter filled his ears, easing some of the tension that had settled deep within his bones.
His large nostrils flared as he suddenly caught the scent of her. His heart skipped a beat, knowing she was still alive. His wings doubled their speed, turning him into a black blur that shot through the sky like a lightning bolt.
He flew across the Earth, soaring past America, the Atlantic, Portugal, Spain, The Mediterranean Sea, and eventually Albania. Sullivan was approaching the Black Sea at this point, the Bulgarian coast now in sight. Of course, Weston would bring her here, thinking Sullivan would never dare to venture into the land of the Ispolin, a formidable race of one-eyed giants who had been at war with the dragons for as long as history could remember.
Sullivan hovered as close as possible to the clouds, trying to keep himself hidden, but the day was bright and the sky was blue here, making his presence terribly obvious. Still, he kept following his brother’s tracks, determined to find his mate no matter the cost. Eventually, he reached the Balkan Mountains. The peaks soared high overhead, the largest one, deemed Old Mountain, disappearing into a thick cloud surrounding its peak. Sullivan continued forward, slowing his pace, circling around it. Down below, he could see the Ispolin working in the valleys, carrying large trees into the heart of the mountain, climbing the rough terrain with ease.
No doubt Weston had brought her here, thinking the giants would scare him off. Sullivan, however, would not give up that easily. He patiently waited, observing the one-eyed race. Eventually, they showed him exactly what he had been looking for. There was a giant boulder about three-quarters of the way up the mountain that a group of Ispolin worked to dislodge, exposing a cave hidden behind it.
Without hesitation, Sullivan shot forward, dashing into the entrance. The angry giants brandished their clubs in his direction, but he was much too fast for them, navigating his way through the maze-like tunnels until he emerged in a large, cavernous opening. He landed, seeing it was empty. His large, clawed feet dug into the soft dirt underfoot. He sniffed the thick, moldy air. She was here!
The scales on his spine lifted defensively as he circled around, searching for Cynthia. Suddenly, he noticed Weston standing there, a deep grin on his face. “I see you’ve come all this way just to save some pathetic little witch,” Weston hissed in his direction. Sullivan didn’t have time for small talk. He lunged forward, determined to trap his brother underfoot.
Weston however, quickly disappeared in a puff of black smoke, reappearing on his brother’s neck. “Now that wasn’t very smart of you, Sullivan. If you kill me, how are you ever going to find out where I have hidden your precious little mate?” Weston whispered in his ear. Angrily, Sullivan tried to buck him off.
“Where is she?” His deep, gravelly voice echoed through the room, sending tremors through the cave.
“Do you really expect me to simply tell you?” Weston asked, jumping down and standing in front of him, a proud smirk on his face.
“What do you want from me? If you want the throne so much, just take it. I don’t need it,” Sullivan answered, baring his sharp teeth. “Just tell me where she is,” he demanded, venom hanging on his every word as his head got closer to his brother, his large red eyes flaming with fury.
“See, you say that, but how do I know you’re telling the truth?” Weston asked calmly. “You could just as easily take her and claim the throne the moment we get back home. No, something more fitting is in order…” he continued, his voice measured.
“Get on with it before I rip out your throat!” Sullivan bellowed.
“You’ve been in exile for how long now? Forty years? Forty long years of being unable to turn into a full-fledged dragon without risking the council coming to get you. In fact, they might be after you right now. Maybe I should just let them capture you and put you on trial, but that wouldn’t be very fun, now would it?” Weston grinned. “No, I’d much rather do the job myself.” As Weston finished his statement, he started to shapeshift, his body becoming a blur.
Soon enough, a large dragon, the color of the earth, filled the remaining space in the cave. The Ispolin had finally made it inside at this point, but they stood back in shock, seeing the t
wo dragons pitted against each other.
Their growls echoed through the cave, small rubble falling from the ceiling as they circled each other. Sullivan was slightly larger than his brother, but he knew he was at a terrible disadvantage. He hadn’t been in a proper fight in forty years. His skills were rusty, but he couldn’t let that stop him from saving Cynthia. She was depending on him.
“You should just give up now and let death come painlessly,” Weston urged, his voice now taking a metallic tone.
“Never.” With this, Sullivan shot forward, tumbling into his brother. They rolled into a giant ball of flesh and scales. He snapped at Weston, biting a chunk out of his side, but Weston dug his talons deep into Sullivan’s side in retaliation. Luckily, Sullivan’s hide had always been much thicker than Weston’s and he barely flinched, taking his brother’s neck into his powerful jaws, throwing him against the wall.
The Ispolin cowered away, covering their heads as pieces of the roof started to crumble, falling dangerously close to them. Not wanting to be trapped within the caves, they rushed out, leaving the dragons to kill each other.
Sullivan crouched down, his eyes set to kill. He pounced suddenly, but Weston rolled away, his wings clipping Sullivan’s legs and forcing him to the ground with a loud thud. Sullivan roared in anguish, feeling his brother’s teeth around his neck, closing his airway and making it hard to breathe. He struggled, feeling his energy failing him. Was this how it was going to end?
No! With a newfound rush of adrenaline, Sullivan managed to buck Weston off him, slamming him into the ceiling. A large piece tumbled to the ground, trapping Weston’s tail underneath. His howl of pain was heard miles away. Sullivan felt no pity, however, as he grappled with his brother, pinning him to the wall. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Tell me or I kill you right here.”
But Weston just rammed forward, his head bashing into Sullivan’s who stumbled backward, stars forming before his eyes. He tried to regain his balance but felt too dizzy. His vision was blurry, making it hard to focus on his brother. Weston snickered, thinking he had gained the upper hand. Sullivan closed his eyes, thinking he had to fight this battle another way. He couldn’t beat Weston using brute force alone.
That’s when it dawned on him. He smirked and looked up, blinking a few times to clear his vision. He made a quick calculation in his head.
“What are you doing?” Weston asked, still trapped in place, the large rock pinning his tail to the ground. “Have you given up?”
Suddenly, Sullivan lashed his barbed tail at the ceiling, as hard as he could. The cave rumbled and dust began falling out of the cracks. There was an ominous creaking noise and suddenly, large chunks of the roof collapsed right on top of Weston. Whimpers could be heard from under the rubble as Weston struggled to stay alive, slowly being crushed.
Knowing he was victorious, Sullivan turned back into a man. “Cynthia!” he called out, hoping she could hear him and make some sort of noise. There was no answer, silence settling in the cave. He strained his hearing for any sort of clue, but there was still nothing.
Suddenly, he felt a buzzing sensation in his pocket. He furrowed his brows in confusion, reaching inside and taking Cynthia’s wand into his hand. The gnarled pencil floated out of his palm, hovering into the air, twitching slightly like the needle of a compass. It pointed at a discolored part of the wall.
Sullivan walked to it quickly, laying his hand on the rock, but it wasn’t solid. It was wet and malleable instead. He rammed his fist through, forming a hole. He dug through the wet mud, seeing a light on the other side. The wand quickly flew past his ear.
A few feet ahead, Cynthia was lying on a sort of a stone altar, the long slab of rock acting as a bed. Her hair was wrapped around her head like a halo and her eyes were closed. Her cheeks were hollow, her hands neatly folded over her chest. She didn’t move an inch. Her skin held the color of death. Sullivan stared in horror at his mate, fearing the worst. Was he too late?
Chapter Twelve
Sullivan stepped forward, feeling like someone had ripped out his heart. Was she really dead? He was afraid to touch her, his hands hovering over her pale skin. Her wand had managed to settle between her hands. “Cynthia?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Cynthia… please…”
He finally ran his fingers over her cheek, feeling how cold she was. His heart tightened in his chest. No, she couldn’t be gone. Without thinking, he clutched the sides of her face and leaned down, kissing her passionately, as if that were enough to breathe life back into her.
His lips danced against hers slowly, refusing to move away. There were tears in his eyes as he held her close, praying for a miracle.
Eventually, he pulled away, breathless. To his amazement, her lips had turned a bright red color, like a blossoming rose. Slowly, the rest of her body shifted to a natural color and her chest started to move ever so slightly. Sullivan’s eyes widened. Was she coming back to life?
He stared at her in disbelief. Had his kiss been enough to revive her? Hope sparked in his chest. Suddenly, her eyes opened. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, pinning her to his chest. “Cynthia… I’m so sorry…” he sobbed into her soft hair, caressing it gently.
“Sullivan?” she asked in confusion. She looked around the unfamiliar landscape, trying to remember what had happened.
“Shh, don’t talk,” Sullivan said, laying her head on his chest. “It’s all okay now.”
“What happened?” she asked, regardless.
He sighed and pulled away, looking into her hazel eyes. He thought about crafting a lie to ease her mind but thought better of it. He was done hiding the truth. She had every right to know. “There are some things I never told you…” he started. She looked at him and nodded. She had expected as much. “I’m not just a simple dragon… I’m a dragon prince, one destined to claim the throne.”
Cynthia’s eyes grew wide. She was dating a dragon prince? She stared at him in disbelief. “And?” She was dying to know more.
“And, I was exiled from the kingdom a long time ago.”
“Why?”
“Dragons are required to find a lover by the time they reach their two hundred and fiftieth year. I never did, so I was banished,” he explained, running his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “But, then I met you and now, you’re carrying my child… which means I have the right to go back home if I so choose. My brother somehow found out about this and decided he would have to kill you if I was to remain in exile. That way, he could claim the throne for himself.” Sullivan frowned. “I’m sorry I put you through all of this, Cynthia. I wasn’t sure whether any of it would happen, but nevertheless, I should’ve warned you. I can understand if you no longer want to be with me…”
Cynthia just smiled at him. “Now why wouldn’t I want that? You came all this way to rescue me. Where are we anyway? I have a feeling we aren’t in Seattle anymore.”
“Bulgaria.”
Cynthia’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Bulgaria? You crossed half the world to come and get me?”
“I would’ve traveled to the ends of the Earth to be with you,” Sullivan said confidently. “I love you.” He looked into her eyes, his words ringing true.
Cynthia smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Their passion flowed from their souls into the kiss. They were both glad this whole ordeal was over. Cynthia’s heart pounded and eventually she pulled away. “Where do dragons live?”
“Northern Ireland,” Sullivan told her.
“Then let’s go make you a King,” she said, grabbing his hand.
“You mean, you want to go back to my land and be my Queen?” Sullivan asked, a little surprised that she was so eager.
“I would never want to be anyone else’s Queen.”
Epilogue
Two years later, Cynthia and Sullivan were sitting together in the royal throne room. Their thrones, however, were empty as they played with their child on the large, fox-pel
t rug in the center of the room. The beautiful baby girl had been born into the world very healthy and magically charged.
Anytime she hiccupped, something would go astray in the room. Sometimes vases would shatter or flowers would bloom. As little Kailey grew older, she started to do such things on purpose, clapping to herself whenever she made a door fly open.
Sullivan and Cynthia found themselves with their hands full, taking care of her. If they took their eyes off of her for a moment, she would disappear, crawling at a breakneck pace down the hall, hiding under the dresses of some of the royal servants.
Now, however, little Kailey was experiencing one of the most important milestones of her early years. On her back, tiny dragon wings had sprouted overnight. Her father beamed down at her, pride in his eyes. It was rare to have a dragon’s wings appear so soon. His little girl would grow up to be a very powerful dragon one day, he was sure of it.
“Come on Kailey, you can do it,” Cynthia said, holding Kailey in a standing position. Kailey’s tiny fingers were tightly wrapped around her mother’s, moving up and down on her tippy toes, trying to steady herself. Slowly, her wings started to flap and suddenly, she was hovering off the ground for a moment before falling back down. Sullivan caught her, spinning her around.
“You did it!” he cooed at his daughter who giggled at him, playing with the crown on his head which she loved so much. He held her in his arms. Cynthia walked over to them, wrapping her arm around his waist, laying her head on his chest. He leaned down and kissed her, thinking his life had never been better.
*****
