1. Stranger in Glazon

The dawn spread its warm light across Glazon, casting a serene glow over the village nestled by the sea. The villagers stirred with the day's early tasks, their movements deliberate, as if the morning held a sacred tranquility. The air was crisp, carrying with it the scent of salt and a sense of purpose that hung over the island like a comforting shroud.

Alita paused at the edge of the village square, breathing in the fresh sea air. The calm of the morning was interrupted only by the cheerful chaos of daily life, a cacophony of sounds that spoke of community and routine. Her eyes drifted toward the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a seamless blend of blue, and a soft smile played on her lips.

"Coming through!" Zee's voice rang out, filled with mischief as she darted past Alita, nudging her shoulder with a playful grin before disappearing into the crowd.

"Zee!" Alita called after her, but her friend was already swallowed by the morning bustle, her laughter echoing faintly as she disappeared.

With a resigned sigh, Alita began weaving through the villagers, exchanging greetings with familiar faces. The warmth of their smiles was contagious, and despite the weight she carried, Alita couldn't help but feel a lightness in her heart. Glazon was more than just her home; it was a sanctuary, a place of refuge where she could almost forget the past.

Alita, the youngest child of the village chief, was no ordinary villager. She was a Dream Walker—a rare type of witch with abilities that set her apart from the others. Her lineage carried the weight of history, of a painful past marked by violence and loss. Generations ago, her people had fled from the atrocities inflicted by Dragons—creatures of fire and fury that had razed their homes, claimed their lands, and enslaved their people. Even now, the village lived in constant vigilance, wary of both Dragons and Wolves who misunderstood and feared their ancient practices.

Elna, her ever-loyal friend and confidante, appeared at her side. "You're up early," Elna remarked, her voice laced with a teasing tone as she nudged Alita playfully.

"Bambi's practice," Alita replied with a wink, earning a mock scowl from Elna.

"You speak like those Dragons sometimes," Elna teased, a mix of affection and exasperation in her voice.

"Bummer," Alita chuckled, lightly smacking Elna's arm.

"Race you to her house," she challenged, and without waiting for a response, she took off running, laughter bubbling up from within her as she sprinted toward their mentor's quarters.

Elna's laughter mingled with hers as she gave chase, the two of them arriving breathless at Bambi's quarters. Bambi, their mentor and teacher in the ways of combat and resilience, was waiting for them, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

"You're late," Bambi chided, tossing a wooden staff to Elna, who caught it with practiced ease.

"I scolded Alita for waking up so early," Elna retorted, her tone playful as she dodged a playful swat from Bambi.

Bambi was more than just a teacher; she was a guardian of their heritage, the embodiment of strength that defined the women of Glazon. With steady hands and unwavering patience, she guided them through drills and lessons that honed not just their physical prowess, but also their inner resolve.

"In order to be true heroines of Glazon, you must learn to fight with purpose," Bambi instructed, her voice carrying the weight of generations of warriors who had defended their island sanctuary.

Alita sparred with Elna, their staffs clashing in the air, the sound of their grunts and laughter blending with the rhythm of their movements. The women of Glazon were warriors by birthright, their strength tempered by compassion and fierce loyalty to their people.

After a rigorous practice session, Alita discarded her staff, breathing heavily as she and Elna left Bambi's quarters, completely exhausted.

"Your punch hurts," Alita teased, rubbing her side where Elna had landed a solid blow.

"Sorry," Elna replied, pulling Alita into a brief hug. Her warmth was a comforting contrast to the cool sea breeze that now greeted them.

As they strolled through the village, Alita's thoughts turned inward, troubled by the unspoken rules that governed their lives. "It's strange that we're not allowed to feel love," she remarked softly, her voice tinged with melancholy.

Elna shrugged, her expression pensive. "I don't even know what that is," she admitted.

"Moon daughters, born to serve the goddess of fertility and nature," Alita murmured, the weight of ancient prophecies and their shared responsibilities shaping their destinies. In Glazon, women were valued for their ability to bear children, to ensure the next generation of Dream Walkers, the most powerful witches known to their people. As the sole child with this gift, Alita felt the burden keenly—Glazon needed more Dream Walkers to face the looming threat of dragons that plagued their legends.

"Our fate is to bear children and to remain pure until we are twenty-one," Alita said, her voice heavy with bitterness. She paused, letting the weight of her words settle into the quiet night. "In a month, I'll be twenty-one and given to Jared. I don't even know him. Why can't I fall in love and choose a man of my own? Why can't I be a warrior instead of being forced to marry a man I don't love just so I can take my place as the rightful ruler after my father, and in the hope of giving birth to a male Dream Walker? I should be enough as Queen." She exhaled loudly, her frustration cutting through the cool night air like a knife. The survival of their village hinged on this delicate balance between fertility and magical prowess—a burden that had been passed down for generations. Every birth was celebrated not just for the new life it brought but for the potential it held to strengthen their defenses against the unknown forces that loomed beyond their borders.

As a princess, her responsibility was even greater, the weight of her role pressing down on her shoulders like a physical force.

"I'm sure love isn't that important," Elna replied, though her voice wavered, betraying a hint of doubt. Her words hung in the air, fragile and unconvincing, as if she were trying to reassure herself as much as Alita.

But Alita's mind had already wandered far from their conversation. A sudden, overwhelming urge to leap into the sea surged within her, its pull as powerful as the tide. She could almost feel the cold, dark water swallowing her whole, offering a release from the life that was being dictated for her. She turned to Elna, her eyes reflecting the turmoil that was raging inside her.

"Alita!" Elna's voice cut through the stillness, sharp and urgent. She reached out, grabbing Alita's arm with a force that belied her gentle nature. "Don't." The single word was a command, filled with fear and a deep, unspoken understanding. She glared at her friend, her heart pounding in her chest, though she knew that Alita was already beyond reason, her thoughts swirling in a dark, irresistible current.

With a mischievous grin, Alita dashed ahead, her laughter echoing as she reached the edge of a hill that overlooked the azure waters surrounding Glazon. Without a second thought, she leaped into the cool embrace of the sea below, the water enveloping her in its embrace.

Elna's groan of mock exasperation followed, and soon she, too, dove into the water beside Alita. The two friends frolicked like children, their worries momentarily forgotten in the joy of the present moment.

"You look funny," Alita teased, splashing water playfully in Elna's direction.

Elna rolled her eyes, her annoyance feigned. "It's not funny, Alita," she retorted, swimming alongside her friend toward the shore.

As they reached the beach, Alita's thoughts turned serious once more. "I don't want to be the next chief. I want my older brother to rule. I've always dreamed of leaving this island, doing something more civilized," she admitted, her voice tinged with longing.

Elna sighed, following Alita ashore. "You can't escape your destiny, Alita. You were prophesied before birth. Your purpose is to rule Glazon and guide its people."

"Stop lecturing me," Alita snapped playfully, though her frustration was evident.

"Another one of those crazy words. You need to stop acting like those Dragons and their civilization. We're witches.…"

"And we should always behave like one. Screw that," Alita muttered, finishing her friend's sentence.

Elna rolled her eyes again and sat beside her. They lapsed into silence until a faint groan interrupted the quiet from the bushes nearby.

"What's that?" Elna asked, her voice tinged with concern as she peered behind them.

"Let's check it out," Alita suggested, ready to run into the bush, but Elna held her back.

"Aren't you scared? What if it's a wild beast?" Elna fretted.

"Then we'll kill it," Alita declared, pulling away and charging into the bush.

Inside, they found a group of hyenas, cackling for no reason. Alita detested these creatures, but she managed to scare them off with a flick of her glowing finger.

"Seriously? Nothing here," she groaned quietly, while Elna rolled her eyes.

Their attention was then drawn to a foot, peculiarly buried under leaves. Elna shrieked as Alita approached cautiously.

"Pervert," Alita muttered, inspecting the foot.

She cautiously approached the bush and pulled back the leaves to reveal the rest of the man's body. He lay there, unconscious, hidden beneath the foliage. As she dragged him out, Alita couldn't help but be struck by his striking appearance—his fair skin gleamed softly in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above, a stark contrast to the dark tones of their village. His long, flowing hair cascaded in waves of pale red, framing features that were chiseled yet softened by the vulnerability of his unconscious state.

"He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen," Alita whispered, momentarily breathless, mesmerized by the unexpected sight before her. Elna shared her fascination, her eyes widening in wonder as she took in his unusual beauty.

"What is this?" Elna asked, her voice hushed with awe as she leaned closer to examine the stranger.

"It's a man," Alita stated the obvious, her own voice tinged with a mix of admiration and curiosity.

"Oh, I didn't notice," Elna replied dryly, her gaze lingering on his bruised feet and neck.

"What are these?" Elna continued, reaching out to touch his shoes with a tentative finger.

"They're shoes. They cover their feet," Alita explained matter-of-factly, though her mind raced with questions about where he had come from and how he had ended up in their secluded corner of the island.

"You know too much," Elna teased gently, a hint of amusement in her voice. "But seriously, how did he get here?"

"I don't know," Alita admitted, bending down to check him out. "He must have gone through a lot, poor soul."


"What are we going to do with him?" Elna asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.


"I'll heal him," I replied with resolve. As I began to take of his dirty white shirt, my fingers brushed against his skin, and I gasped in surprise at the sight of a dragon tattoo emblazoned on his left rib.