5. The Dragon
The Dragon
The cruelest leashes take the name first and the reason for it second. Whatever they cannot pry loose, keep there. It’s the only part that’s still yours.
The night was mine. Had always been.
No. That wasn’t right.
There was something before. Someone before. A voice saying my name, and my name was—
The collar burned. The thought died.
FLY. HUNT. OBEY.
What was I hunting?
Gone. The thought scattered before I could catch it.
The pull sang in my bones. Insistent and demanding and consuming. Not words exactly, but something deeper, carved into the space where thoughts should have been.
FIND. CAPTURE. brING BACK.
I banked left. Not because I chose to. The pull simply shifted and I followed. Always followed.
Below, the Ash stretched forever. Dead trees reaching toward nothing. Gray ground cracked and broken. Ruins I couldn’t name but felt like I should know. Somewhere down there was—
What? What am I hunting?
The collar pulsed once. Hot against my throat. Sharp enough to make my wings stutter mid-beat. Sharp enough to halt the shadows that circled me.
The half-formed question dissolved into smoke.
HUNT.
Yes. Hunt. That was all. That was everything.
The resonance hit me then. Not a scent. Not a sound. Something that vibrated through my chest and made my claws ache with need.
There.
My jaw opened without permission, tasting the air. Tasting the pull.
There.
I folded my wings and dropped.
Falling felt like freedom. Felt like the only choice I’d made in—how long? I didn’t know. Couldn’t know. The collar wouldn’t let me count days.
Below, movement.
Small and fast. Running through the dead trees as if running would help. Prey always ran. Why did they run when I would catch them anyway?
I’d done this before. One time. But I couldn’t remember the face. Couldn’t remember if they’d screamed or begged or…
The collar flared hot.
HUNT.
My claws sank into the ash when I landed.
Silent. I am good at silent.
Had someone taught me that? A memory flickered. Training fields. Sunlight. A patient voice saying, “You’re doing great, Lucy.”
Lucy?
The collar burned and the name shattered before I could hold it.
I lunged.
Rocks snapped under my weight. The small thing ahead stumbled, fell, scrambled back to its feet.
Running. Always running.
I was faster.
My claws closed around fragile limbs. Careful. Don’t break. The pull demanded capture, not killing. Bring back alive.
Bring them to the moon beach. Always the moon beach.
It struggled. Made sounds that scraped against something raw in my chest.
It’s crying.
The sadness felt familiar. Should have meant something. Should have made me…
What? Made me what?
The collar was cold now. Cold and satisfied. I was doing what I was supposed to do.
Good.
I was being good. Wasn’t I?
Then why did this hollow ache live in my chest where something else should have been?
I lifted into the sky, wings beating steadily. The small thing in my claws had gone limp. Resigned. Just like the last one did. Until I dropped them on the moon beach. Then they scrambled away.
But I was very good.
Mountains grew ahead. The Sorrow Mountains rising from the Ash like broken teeth, pulling me toward the Sleeping Ring. The pull eased, replaced by a different compulsion.
Home.
Prison.
Both.
Sunrise was coming.
I could feel it in my bones. The way scales would shift back to skin. Wings would fold into shoulders. The fog would lift and I’d have to… remember.
No. Please. Let me stay lost. Let me stay in the dark where I don’t have to know what I’ve done. Where I don’t have to feel the weight of—
But the sun didn’t care what I wanted.
It never did.
The first rays touched my scales the second I reached the wall of frozen fog and the world began to break apart.
Bones grinding. Reshaping. My wings folded inward, collapsing into my back with a pain that would have made me scream if I still had a voice for screaming.
My hands weren’t claws anymore. Just hands. Human and useless.
And all I could hold was the ache of a name I kept forgetting.
Mine.