The Last Dragon of the East

Chapter 31

31

S omething catches me.

No, not something. Some one .

Jyn swoops in, her claws outstretched, and her serpentine body wraps around my own. I gasp, shaken and heartbroken from my memories. I cling to her back, careful not to pull on her mane. The sudden shift in momentum gives me whiplash, but then our rise into the skies proves as exhilarating as the fall.

As she brings me back up toward the ledge, I catch the glint of something metallic flying straight at us. An arrow. At the edge of the cliff, the huntress stands poised with her bow drawn. She leads her shot, her sights set on Jyn’s curling form.

“No!” I shout.

It’s too late.

The arrow pierces Jyn’s chest, causing her to roar loudly in pain. There’s nothing I can do except hold on, panic screaming over our thread. My dragon, my heart, begins to plummet.

Desperation cuts through me. There has to be something I can do.

I think back to my outburst back at the village, how my anger somehow ignited the first step of a greater transformation. I remember my red eyes and sharp teeth and unspeakable surge of strength. If the red dragon’s magic flows through my veins, surely I can harness its power.

What a shame I have no idea how to control it. How am I to save my Fated One?

“Jyn!” I cry as I prepare to meet my demise for the second time this day. “Jyn, please , you have to—”

There isn’t enough time to pull up, so she takes the brunt of the fall. The harsh thud as we slam into the cold, hard ground is enough to rattle my bones. I’m in excruciating pain and shock, but at least I’m alive .

Dust billows out from under us, coating my skin and stinging my eyes. Wherever we are, it’s freezing and dark. There’s barely any light down here at the bottom of what I can only assume is an empty ravine, long since dried up and abandoned by the living. Even the weeds, normally stalwart and steadfast against the harshest elements, have shriveled up and died here.

I clamber to my feet, ignoring the sharp twist of what feels like a broken ankle. By all accounts, I’m lucky.

My dragon, on the other hand, is alarmingly still.

A shaky breath escapes me as I reach out to her, gingerly pressing the tips of my fingers against her cold scales. “Jyn?” I call out weakly, my throat uncomfortably tight. “Jyn.”

I glance down at our thread for reassurance—still there, but for how much longer?

With a pathetic limp, I hobble over to her head, stroking the debris from her eyes. Jyn stirs with a whimper and a groan, struggling to right herself. The shaft of the arrow juts out, a painful splinter, the tip lodged deep within her chest.

“Don’t move, my lady. I will get…” My words die on my tongue as I look around. There’s no help to be found. Swallowing hard, I cradle her head beneath her chin and tap my forehead to her snout. “Please, hang on just a while longer. I’ll get us out of this.”

A low, ominous growl reaches my ear.

I turn slowly, goose bumps sliding over my aching flesh. Now that the dust has settled, I finally realize that this ravine is far from abandoned. Peeking out at me from the inky dark is a pair of glowing red eyes and the glint of sharp fangs. One pair grows into two, two into four, four into eight. Before I know it, Jyn and I are staring down an entire horde of bloodthirsty beasts.

An entire family of yayu. It seems we’ve had the misfortune of plummeting directly into their lair. They bare their teeth, and thick strands of saliva drip from their yellowed fangs. Their nostrils flare as they crouch, ready to pounce. Jyn and I are outnumbered twenty to one. There is no escape. We either fight, or we die.

As they circle not just me but Jyn, I envision them tearing us limb from limb, feasting on our remnants. The thought of my Fated One perishing awakens something within me. So long as I draw breath, I will fight so that nothing can touch her. If these damned beasts want a taste of dragon’s blood, they’ll first have to go through me.

I take a deep breath.

And then I let it all out.

Every ounce of frustration, of rage, of madness within me is unleashed, drawing power from a deep, untapped well. My skin ignites with the heat of a thousand suns, my teeth grow sharp so suddenly that they cut into my own tongue, my nails become long and as sharp as ten savage blades. The roar that escapes me is not quite that of a dragon, but it can’t be described as human, either. It’s not a full transformation—I don’t know if I’m even capable of that—but it’s enough to unleash my wrath.

The yayu pounce with vicious snarls, but I’m ready. I know no fear, only unbridled hatred. Nobody will hurt my Fated One. Nobody.

It’s a bloody affair.

They bite, they claw, and I do the same. I’m no longer myself, so moved by my anger that I’m blind to the rest of the world. I can’t differentiate one foe from the next. They blur together, one massive threat that I alone must eliminate. I tear the beasts apart with my bare hands, gnashing my teeth, casting dirt into their eyes. One kill, ten kills—it makes no difference. The power I wield is dark and dangerous.

“Sai!” Jyn sobs my name. “Sai, enough! ”

But I can’t stop. My sanity slowly slips away. These movements, this heartbeat, this all-consuming craving for blood are not my own. I won’t hold back. I refuse. I will destroy every last creature in my way if it means that I can keep my Fated One safe. Even if that means I must destroy myself.

Jyn shifts back into her human form and throws her arms around my neck. “They’re dead,” she rasps. “I’m safe. We’re fine .”

I throw Jyn off me without thinking, sending her crashing to the ground. It’s only when I hear her cry out, my hand coming away red from her chest, that I manage to grasp hold of my senses. Clarity finally washes over me, followed by a gut-wrenching horror.

What have I done?

“I’m sorry,” I say shakily, hurrying over to pick her up and cradle her in my arms. How did I lay a hand on her, when I was only here to protect her? “I’m so sorry, my heart. I didn’t mean to—”

She grits her teeth as she inhales, clearly in agony. As lightly as I can manage, I move the top of her robes to inspect her injury. The huntress’s arrow is embedded just below Jyn’s collarbone. Red stains her skin, flowing freely.

“I have to pull it out,” I tell her regretfully.

She shakes her head slightly, grimacing. “N-no, not here. There c-could be others.”

I know she’s right. More blood on top of this carnage will only attract more beasts. The best course of action is to find shelter before the night’s cold overwhelms us.

“Hold on to me,” I tell her, lifting her up into my arms.

Jyn groans against my chest, her head lolling to one side as sweat breaks out across her forehead. Her breathing is ragged, her complexion too pale. Jyn mentioned once that she heals quicker than most, but what happens if she bleeds out faster than even her magic can repair? I need to remove the arrow as soon as possible, but first I must find us someplace safe.

I venture deeper into the ravine, the air growing colder by the second. There’s no sound down here, and barely any light. I can’t tell if the pain I feel is my own, or if it is Jyn’s that I’m sensing through our thread. Either way, the trek is excruciating.

I almost yell with joy when I find a deep alcove dug into the frigid cliff face. It will serve as a perfect resting point. After setting Jyn down on the ground, I quickly shrug off my winter coat and drape it over her shivering body. What we need now is a source of light.

There’s plenty of tinder—twigs and dry grass and dead weeds—but the stones I use are too damp to spark a light. I grunt in frustration, so broken and beaten down that I find myself on the brink of tears.

“I wish we could breathe fire,” I curse under my breath. “Gods, please just—”

A spark finally arcs, catching on the leaves. The tiniest of flames grows and grows. With a relieved sigh, I throw on a few more sticks. Before long, it’s a strong campfire, casting shadows against the alcove and slowly warming the air around us.

“I did it!” I gasp.

“Huzzah,” Jyn grumbles dryly. She can barely keep her eyes open.

I kneel at her side, carefully inspecting her wound. The whole area is red and swollen. Removing the arrowhead will be no simple task.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

“Are you sure we can’t leave it in?”

“Be brave, my lady.”

Her bottom lip trembles, fear etched into the weary features of her face. “All right,” she murmurs. “You’ll h-have to use the arrow to cauterize the wound.”

I do my best to look brave. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

Jyn takes a deep breath, grinding her teeth as I grasp the shaft of the arrow. She swallows her screams as I dig the weapon out, her body trembling and seizing, her distress lashing out across our connection. It takes every ounce of concentration I have not to stop, not to break down from seeing her this way.

I eventually manage to free the arrowhead, and I waste no time in holding it out over the flame. The metal turns red with the heat, ready for the next phase. I give Jyn a hesitant glance, at which she only nods.

When I press the searing metal to her flesh, tears flow freely from her eyes, but she doesn’t make a sound. My wretched work is over in a matter of seconds. I drop the arrow and pick her up, seating her across my lap so that I can hold her close. I rock her gently back and forth, pressing kisses against her temples, her cheeks, her hair. It’s the only way I can think to apologize, because words are not enough.

It’s a small comfort when her eyes flutter shut. As she dreams, I remain on guard, silently reeling at what has come to pass.

If I’m going to protect Jyn, I must become so much stronger.

No matter the cost.