Chapter 80 — Part 1

Chapter 80 — Part 1
Kate’s POV

We walk in silence. Ashleen still holds my hand, but I feel it’s not a gesture of full trust. It’s a fragile, hesitant thread, as if she’s afraid I might vanish if she lets go. Her touch goes through me entirely, and at the same time makes me even more aware of the abyss that still exists between us.

She suddenly stops in the middle of the corridor and lifts her face to me. Her lilac eyes flicker with the hesitation of someone about to ask something important.

“Is it a happy story?”

I swallow hard. Telling my own life, disguised as a fable, feels like the scariest thing I’ve ever done. It’s not the pain that worries me—I learned too soon how to swallow pain. What scares me is what she’ll think of me after hearing it.

Dan, who had been walking behind us, stops as well. He leans his shoulder against the living arch of a root and folds his arms, watching me without hurry. He doesn’t need to say a word—the weight of his gaze is incentive enough. I think he knows how much this costs me.

“It’s becoming one,” I reply. “We can sit over there.”

I point to a nook where the corridor opens into a small inner clearing. The ground is covered in glowing moss, and thick roots intertwine to form something that looks like a natural bench.

Ashleen hesitates for a moment, but follows me. I settle in first, so she doesn’t feel I’m expecting too much from her. Then, with careful movements, she sits beside me, her legs tucked under her body, like a child still unused to furniture too big for her.

Niv’leen flies toward us, hovering a few inches from my face, tiny arms crossed and wearing the look of someone who desperately wants to join in, but isn’t sure if he should. “Is this going to be a long story, my little pest?” he asks.

“Maybe,” I answer. “Depends on how much you interrupt me.”

He makes an exaggerated grimace and throws himself backward in the air, letting his wings hold him in place as if lying on an invisible bed. “Then it’ll be very long.”

Ashleen watches him for a few seconds, and for the first time since we started this talk, I see a flicker of genuine curiosity on her face. Not for the story yet, but for the way this tiny creature carries himself.

I take a deep breath.

“As I said, it’s the story of two sisters,” I begin, keeping my voice low when Ashleen looks back at me, almost as if I’m sharing a secret. “Two girls who were born in a divided world, a world where magic and fear walked side by side.”

Ashleen doesn’t blink. Her attention is complete, and that makes me even more aware of every word I choose. I can’t talk about blood, the sale, the pain of serving as a pale monster’s magic battery. Not like that, not now. I need to find a tone that’s true, but won’t push her away.

“One was older, the other just a baby. These two sisters had something other children didn’t. One could see things hidden from the common world, as if her eyes were windows into a secret place. The other, still small, carried a spark that could grow the same way. And because of this, the older one was hunted, which put the younger in danger too.”

Ashleen’s mouth opens in a silent “o.” It’s as if she wants to ask, but holds back. Instead, she just hugs her knees and waits.

“One day, a pale king knocked at their door. He wore a crown that shone like ice and had eyes that could freeze any hope. He offered gold in exchange for the two girls, and their parents… accepted.”

The word echoes between us. My chest tightens as I say it. But Ashleen doesn’t react with pain or outrage. She only frowns, as if trying to understand why.

“He took them both to his castle, but separated them. The older sister never saw the younger again. Still, she never stopped feeling the other was alive somewhere. It was as if her heart never ceased to call out for her sister’s.”

My eyes drift unwillingly to Dan. He’s motionless, but his arms are no longer crossed; one hand rests on the root frame, and his tail slides on the ground as if it has a will of its own. The image of someone holding silent memories.

“Then, one day, the older sister escaped. She ran through the forest, chased by wolf-like creatures that served the pale king. She ran until her legs bled, until thorns tore her skin, until she tumbled down a slope and landed before a wall so high it seemed endless.”

I close my eyes for a moment, remembering the smell of blood, the ragged breath, the dread I still feel in my bones. I don’t need to invent anything: all I do is swap raw paint for softer colors, enough for Ashleen to see, but not to fear.

“But then, she realized that the wall wasn’t made of stone, but of scales. Because in truth, it wasn’t a wall. It was a dragon. Black as night, huge as a mountain. He could have devoured her, as so many creatures would. But he didn’t. He only scared her a little...”

I narrow my eyes at Dan, and he just shrugs.

“But he chose to help her and faced those who hunted her.”

A faint gasp beside me makes me turn my head. Ashleen is staring at Dan. Not a vague look, but one of pure suspicion. As if pieces were beginning to align in her mind.

Dan keeps his face calm, but doesn’t avert his gaze. The tension is thin, almost invisible, but I feel it as if a current ran through the space between the three of us.

I don’t say anything yet. I just closed the first part of the story with the promise: “He told her that if she followed the river, she would reach the border, and that’s how the older sister learned the world didn’t only have monsters. That sometimes, even in the deepest shadows, there might be someone willing to reach out a hand.”

Ashleen slowly swings her feet, as if each movement helped her digest the story. Until she finally breaks the stillness.

“Did you get hurt when you fell down the slope?”

The question is direct, no hesitation. I smile faintly, surprised by her choice. She didn’t ask about the pale king, our parents, monsters, or the dragon, but about the fall.

“Pretty badly,” I admit. “I scraped my arms, cut my hands on thorns, and got all bruised. For a while, I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand again.”

She frowns, as if the idea of going on after that was absurd. “And why didn’t you stop?”

I take a deep breath. “Because if I stopped, they’d catch me. And if they caught me, I’d never have a chance to see you again.”

Her hand tightens a little more around her knees. I don’t know if that answer was right or wrong, but I don’t take it back. I need her to understand, even if only partly, how much it was always for her.

“And the wolves?” her voice comes even lower. “Were they going to bite you?”

“They weren’t real wolves,” I say, softening my tone. “They were magical beings who could take the shape of animals. Wolves, that night. But to me, that was enough. It felt like they could tear me apart in a single blow.”

Ashleen hugs her knees tighter, and for a moment, I think I’ve scared her. But then she lifts her face and asks another question.

“Did you cry?”

Her sincerity cuts deep. I think of lying, but I can’t. Not in front of those eyes, trying to figure out who I am.

“I cried,” I admit again. “But not from fear. I cried because I knew you had been left behind, and I couldn’t go back.”

Her lilac eyes blink, shimmering, but she doesn’t look away. It seems those words plant a seed in her, still fragile, but alive.

I let silence settle for a few seconds, so I don’t overwhelm her. Then I continue the story.

“And the dragon? Why didn’t he devour her?”

I shrug, even though the real answer is only a few steps away. “I don’t know. Maybe because even huge monsters can also choose to protect instead of destroy.”

Dan’s tail shifts subtly behind him, as if reacting on its own to the weight of the memory, but I don’t dare look directly at him now.

Ashleen doesn’t take her eyes off me. The flicker of distrust mingles with fascination. Maybe she’s connecting the dots. “And you never saw him again?”

A heavy silence falls between us. I don’t answer. Not yet. I think that part isn’t mine to tell. And as if reading my thoughts, it’s Dan who speaks. His voice drifts across the space slowly, steady as stone sliding at the bottom of a river.

“She saw him many times after that.”

Ashleen turns her head to stare at him, surprised at the interruption. Dan takes a step forward, leaving the shadow he leaned against, to crouch in front of her, and his golden eyes meet the girl’s.

“Because that dragon was me.”

The revelation drops like muffled thunder. Ashleen’s breath catches in her chest. Her eyes widen even more, staring at him as if trying to measure the distance between fable and reality.

“You?” Her voice is almost a whisper.

“Me,” Dan confirms. “Why do you think I have horns, claws, and a lizard’s tail?” He doesn’t wait for her answer before going on. “I had just finished cleaning my scales that night, and when your sister showed up, I thought rats were climbing on me.”

“But rats aren’t as big as a girl!”

“I just told you I’m a dragon, and it’s the actual size of a rat that bothers you?” He laughs.

The silence that follows is pure disbelief. Niv’leen breaks it, landing on Ashleen’s shoulder with a short laugh. “See, little pest? Sometimes even a mystical iguana like him manages to do something useful.”

Ashleen doesn’t smile. Not yet. She keeps staring at Dan, as if seeing not only the dragon of the tale, but also the man who used his tail to make her laugh. And I watch the two of them, my heart beating heavy.

Ashleen then tilts her head.

“But… why?” Her voice cracks mid-sentence. “Why did you help her?”

As if it were the most obvious thing in the world, Dan answers:

“Because I wanted to. I didn’t need another reason. Would you?”

Ashleen’s eyes shine strangely, a reflection of understanding beginning to kindle.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Dan gives a slight half-smile. “And that’s a good thing.”

I can’t stay silent any longer. “Ashleen,” I say, seeking her eyes. “It was because of you that I kept running that night. It was for you that I endured. And it was for you that I found Dan again, after so many years.”

“How did it happen?”

“I found a clue. An invitation to an auction.”

“Auction?” Ashleen repeats, frowning.

“A horrible place,” I explain carefully, choosing every word. “A hidden hall where rich people gathered to buy magical beings as if they were objects, as if they weren’t alive. I knew that if he was there, I had no time to lose.”

Her lilac eyes widen. “And was he?”

“Yes.” My voice falters a little. “But not the way I remembered him. Not as the huge dragon with black scales, but as a man with horns and a tail, chained before everyone, treated as a prize for whoever had the most gold.”

Ashleen lets out a breath, almost a sob. “They were going to sell Dan?”

“Yes, and they called him ‘the Wingless Black Dragon.’”

My sister suddenly whips her head toward him, and I expect her to ask about Dan’s wings. But since she doesn’t, I continue the story.

“I didn’t walk into that place as myself. I used a magic trick to look like the daughter of an important lord. It wasn’t true, of course, but everyone believed because the spell made them see what I wanted them to see. He even thought he was really my father, and in my mind, I called him my temporary father.”

Ashleen blinks, as if she wants to laugh at the phrase, but stays serious when I go on:

“Dan was chained, with a collar that wouldn’t let his magic escape. And even though he was so different from how I remembered him, when I saw him, I wanted to believe he was the same dragon who saved me. And I needed to act quickly, before someone else took him. I used the lie trick on my temporary father, made him believe he wanted that dragon more than anything. Then he raised his hand and offered a huge sum of coins.”

“And you bought him?”

“We did. The old man signed a document that gave him the right to own the dragon. But that same document was what kept the power of control. Without it, no one could force Dan to obey. And I knew I had to get my hands on that paper.”

Ashleen slowly shakes her head, taking in every word.

“We managed to leave the hall, but it didn’t end there. Inside the carriage, Dan did me the not-so-favorable favor of starting to provoke.”

Now I look straight at him, and the bastard has a sly smile on his lips, pointing at me with his head tilted and his brow raised, saying: “This is my favorite part.”

“This ridiculous man made me lose focus, and my temporary father started to notice something was wrong. The lie trick only lasts as long as I can keep people believing what I say, and the old man stopped believing because of him.” I jab my finger into Dan’s cheek, and he makes no effort to pull his face away. “That’s when I had to act fast. Before the old man understood completely, I punched him in the nose and grabbed the document.”

“And your sister had the brilliant idea of holding my chain and jumping out of a moving carriage.”

“It was way too risky, I know that.” Now I’m the one who shrugs. “When we fell, everyone looked at us. A man started shouting that I had killed the old man, and chaos broke out. But I couldn’t turn back. I had what I needed: the document and the dragon. After that, it didn’t matter what they said about me.”

Ashleen takes a deep breath, her eyes even wider than before.

“That’s how I saved the dragon who had saved me before.” I pause, brushing my thumb over her hand. “And that’s why we’re here now.”

I let the silence weigh for a moment. Ashleen looks first at me, then at Dan, then back at me. I can see the questions sprouting in her mind, and I think I know which will come first.

She bites her lip and finally asks:

“And me? How did you find me?”