Chapter Nine

A dark figure approached the dragon's cave. Most would be terrified of the beast, but this was an old friend coming to visit.

The figure wore a long dark cloak, leaving only his head visible. He glided over the snow-covered ground, not leaving a single footprint. His hair gleamed silver in the moonlight that shone from above. 

As the figure stepped just inside the cave, they called out. "Oh mighty dragon, how dim you are!" He slammed his hand on the wall; the whole mountain shook from the force.

The beast quickly found its way to the entrance of its home. Bright red eyes gleaming, black scales blending seamlessly into the darkness. "What did you just say?" Its voice was a low growl, filled with the weight of centuries spent alone. "How dare you come in here-"

The figure cut the dragon off mid-sentence. "Soren, you are a fool! Destiny walks right up to your door, and you scare the poor girl half to death! You're the last of your kind. You need to-"

"It is no concern of yours, Marcel!" the dragon, Soren, bellowed. A growl escaped his large frame. Loose rocks fell from the cave's ceiling.

The figure, Marcel, growled as well, with every bit of anger as the dragon. "It is a concern of mine, you dimwitted lizard!" Soren puffed up his massive, scaled chest with indignation at the insult, but Marcel continued. "You think you can just do what you please! Do you realize that everything rests on the hope of you finding your destiny? You can't just continue as you have! Traipsing about, slaughtering on behalf of the humans in every war that comes to pass, and expecting the world to continue without issue!" In the darkness of the cave, Marcel's emerald eyes shone with rage, with power.

"And just what do you mean, it's none of my concern?! You rampaged through the whole forest after your little trip into the village. And injuring a human CHILD? You must have surely lost your mind in your old age!" Marcel seethed; his breath came short and shallow.

Soren growled yet again, the earth beneath them rattling with the force. "I will accept my destiny when I am ready. Not a moment before then."

Marcel's gaze turned icy. Walking closer to Soren, he all but whispered, "Do you know of the hell she has gone through? Almost every day, she enters my forest covered in new cuts and bruises, the weight of the words spat at her, baring down heavily on her broken soul." Marcel shook his head; his friend's stubbornness on this issue baffled even him. "If you do not claim her, then I shall." With that, he turned to exit the cave.

"You can't-" Soren started. But Marcel quickly cut him off.

"Oh, but I can, dear friend. You know not the power I wield as the king of the Fae." With that parting remark, he disappeared into the brisk winter night.

***

Finally, a day of relief had come. A whole month had passed since John's father threatened me, and I'd seen hide nor hair of him since that day. No one else had tried anything, either. 

That didn't mean that I hadn't been busy, though. Over the last month, the whole village was making preparations for the end-of-year winter festival. They had been busy building stalls, hanging banners, and transforming the entire town into a place of magic. With that, there were many minor injuries, and a few came down with colds due to overworking themselves. If you combine that with how busy I usually was in the winter, I hadn't had a moment's peace.

It was all worth it, though. The winter festival was the only event that I looked forward to. With so many new people coming through to sell their wares and offer entertainment, only a few people knew who I was on sight. I could actually have a bit of fun. 

With a delighted hum, I pulled on my cloak and tied up my hair. Violet eyes, filled with excitement, stared back at me as I checked everything in the mirror. A small smile crept across my face. Today would be a good day. With a firm nod, I exited my home and began my walk to the village.

As soon as I stepped foot in the main square, the energy was alive with excitement, a collective feeling of joy. The winter festival had always been a time for the community to come together and let off some steam through what had already been a harsh winter. Most times, it was the only thing that kept everyone going through the rest of the season. I was no exception, of course.

Brightly colored banners and bunting flags were strung from shop to shop, woven up on poles, and wrapped around terrace posts at the tavern. All led to the middle of the square, where a large stage had been set up in full view of everything. The sun hadn't set yet, and already, the street was bustling with people. 

Vendors sold their wares from quickly set-up stalls. Performers littered every corner. Some sang, some used magic to entertain, and all of them had smiles on their faces. Best of all, the smell of food lingered in the air—the smell of cooked meats, baking bread, and even the sickly sweet smell of fresh desserts. 

My stomach grumbled at the prospect of food. I let my nose lead me to a vendor selling roasted skewered meat. Luckily, he was from out of town. He quickly sold me two servings and moved on to the next customer without a second glance.

As I tore into the skewers, the warmth of the freshly roasted meat settled into my bones. Roasted meat goes well with only one other thing. My eyes scanned the crowd, honing in on the temporary tavern that had been set up in a tent at the edge of the festivities. Ale! It was the perfect partner for this. 

Weaving my way in and out of the crowd, I made my way over to the tent. No one gave me a second glance as I did. To those from out of town, I was no different than anyone else. To the locals, they were too busy enjoying themselves to pay me any attention. All the better for me! I found one of the few open tables left in the tent and ordered a pint of ale. After paying the barmaid, I sat quietly, sipping on my drink, and watched the festivities unfold. A sense of calm washed over me despite the chaos and hustle of the large gathering. 

Hours passed before I even realized it. Once the moon was high in the sky, a large crowd gathered around the stage in the middle of the square. From my seat in the tavern, I had a clear view of everything. It looked like people were gathering on the stage, and a small stage set had been put up for a play. This should be entertaining.

I wished it actually were, though. The leading performer, a middle-aged man with chocolate brown hair and commonly attractive features, introduced the story they would be telling tonight: a tale of how a vicious witch attacked a boy and how the hero saved the whole town from her villainy. 

As they began the show, my stomach dropped to the floor, and my heart was pounding in my ears. The villainous witch with flowing red hair attacked a child, leaving him on his deathbed. When the child's father implored her to stop, she just laughed and attacked him, too. Then, the hero of the story, a knight from the capital, came and slayed the witch, displaying her body in the town square.

I felt like I was going to be sick. With shaking hands, I pushed my drink away from me. I needed to leave before anyone looked my way. Pulling my hood over my hair, I quietly stood up and slipped through the crowd, trying to stay at the edges.

I'd almost made it out of the square. Just a bit farther, and I'd be safe. Who in the world came up with such a ridiculous version of events? I saved that boy! If it weren't for me, he would have long been dead! Rage built up in my chest, mixed with the anxiety that someone might see me and recognize my features that had been poorly portrayed in that play. The combination of emotions had bile rising in my throat. 

I slipped into an alley between two of the shops lining the edge of the town square, using it as a shortcut. I was about halfway down when a voice from behind sent shivers down my spine.

"Well, look who we have here. If it isn't the witch herself."