How to bring down a Dragon

The rain fell steadily, pattering against the invisible dome of the shield spell hovering above our heads. The four of us walked side by side along the muddy road, our boots squelching in the wet earth as we left Velbridge far behind. It had been a few hours, and the sky was already dimming, heavy clouds turning the evening into an early night.

Kael, of course, was the first to break the silence.

“So,” he began, glancing around the group, his voice full of that familiar, irrepressible cheer. “What’s the plan if we meet a dragon on the road? You know, just... hypothetically.”

Bram let out a low chuckle, his hammer shifting on his shoulder as he gave Kael a sideways look. “Kid, if we meet a dragon on the road, the plan is simple. We run.”

Kael blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Run? But you’re, like, the big guy with the hammer! Aren’t you supposed to... you know, fight?”

Bram shrugged. “A dragon out in the open? Not unless you’ve got a death wish. You pick your fights, kid. In case you didn’t notice, we’re a bit outmatched in size and firepower.”

Kael frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. “I thought the whole point was to kill the dragon, not run from it.”

I smirked, not bothering to hide my amusement. “You’ll learn, Kael. Survival first, glory second. If Bram’s running, trust me—you should too.”

Kael looked at me, his expression somewhere between skeptical and incredulous. “You really think I can’t handle it?”

“I think,” I said, tilting my head, “you’d make a nice snack for a dragon. Quick and bite-sized.”

Bram let out a loud laugh, slapping his knee. Even Lyara chuckled softly, though she gave Kael a more sympathetic smile.

Kael groaned, running a hand through his damp hair. “You guys are brutal.”

“That’s the job,” Lyara said gently, her voice calm and measured. “Dragons aren’t like bandits or rival adventurers. They don’t care about tactics or fairness. They’re raw power and instinct. It’s not about whether we can fight them—it’s about when we choose to fight them.”

Kael seemed to mull that over for a moment before muttering, “Still sounds like running to me.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Bram said with a grin, adjusting his hammer. “Or you won’t, and you’ll end up crispy.”

I snorted, hiding my laugh behind a cough as Kael gave Bram a mock glare.

Lyara, ever the voice of reason, spoke up again. “It’s why we work as a team,” she said, glancing at each of us. “Every one of us brings something unique to the fight. Bram’s strength, Thalia’s magic, my support... and you, Kael, have agility and speed. Together, we can do this.”

Kael perked up at the compliment, his grin returning full force. “See? Someone gets it.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re still the rookie here.”

“Rookie with potential,” he shot back, winking at Lyara. “You heard her.”

Bram shook his head, his voice rumbling with amusement. “This kid’s gonna be the death of me.”

“Not if you keep running,” Kael quipped, earning another round of laughter from Bram.

As we trudged on, the road stretching out endlessly before us, the banter made the dreary weather feel a little less miserable. For a moment, the looming danger of our mission felt far away.

The rain continued to patter on the shield above us as we trudged along the muddy road. My curiosity finally got the better of me, and I glanced over at Kael, his usually cheerful face unusually quiet as he walked a few steps ahead.

“So,” I began casually, trying not to sound too intrusive. “Why exactly did you beat up seven men by yourself in the middle of Velbridge?”

Kael paused mid-step, his smile faltering. He didn’t answer right away, and for a moment, I thought I might’ve pushed too far.

But then Bram, ever the big brother figure, nudged Kael’s shoulder with a massive hand. “Go on, kid. Let it out.”

Kael let out a heavy sigh, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked. “It’s my mom,” he started, his tone softer than I’d ever heard it. “She’s sick. Has been for a while now. I’m all she’s got left, but... well, I’m just one person. And medicine, real medicine, costs money I don’t have.”

He hesitated, glancing at us as if measuring whether to keep going, but Bram nodded encouragingly.

“I tried to figure it out,” Kael continued. “Took on odd jobs, scraped together what I could. But it wasn’t enough. So, I borrowed money. Thought I’d pay it back, no problem. But... things didn’t exactly go as planned. And when I couldn’t pay on time, they started sending their guys after me.” He shrugged, his usual grin replaced with something more forced. “I told them I’d pay next week, but they didn’t want to hear it. So I defended myself.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, heavy despite his attempt to brush it off.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, the weight of his story settling on my shoulders. Foolish, Thalia, I thought to myself. You assumed he was just a carefree kid, without a worry in the world. Everyone has their struggles.

Bram broke the silence by placing his massive hand on Kael’s head, nearly engulfing it. “Don’t sweat it, kid,” he said with a grin. “After this mission, you won’t have to worry about money again. Four of us splitting the reward means 2,500 gold apiece. That’s enough to get your mom whatever she needs.”

Kael looked up at him, his expression caught somewhere between gratitude and disbelief. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Bram replied firmly.

Lyara chimed in, her voice gentle but purposeful. “What kind of sickness does your mother have?” she asked. “I’m a healer. Maybe I can help.”

Kael hesitated, his smile faltering again. “I’ve tried,” he admitted. “I’ve gone to every healer I could find. All of them said the same thing—they couldn’t do anything. But... you can try. After this mission.”

Lyara nodded, her green eyes filled with quiet determination. “I’d like to. I’ll do everything I can.”

I watched the exchange, the rain now nothing but a faint background hum against the tension. Finally, I spoke up. “If you’re out here with us, who’s looking after your mom?”

Kael didn’t hesitate this time. “Tomas,” he said, his grin returning, though it was softer now. “Tough guy, honest. Those debt collectors wouldn’t dare come near my mom with him around. It’s better this way. If I’m out here, they can’t use her to get to me.”

I nodded, my gaze lingering on Kael for a moment longer before looking ahead. The kid had more layers than I’d given him credit for. Maybe this team wasn’t just for me after all.

The rain had tapered off by the time the sky went fully dark, leaving the road slick and glistening under the faint light of the stars. We found a clearing on the side of the road—a wide, relatively dry patch of ground tucked against a grove of trees. It was safe enough, and with the four of us together, there was little point in using my usual concealment spells. We were too many, and Kael’s constant chatter alone was enough to alert anything within earshot.

Instead, I focused on conjuring the basics. With a wave of my staff and a muttered incantation, three tents materialized in the clearing, simple but sturdy structures glowing faintly with magic before settling into place.

Bram gave an approving nod, already dropping his pack near one of the tents. “Handy trick,” he said, stretching his broad shoulders. “Saves a lot of time fumbling with ropes and stakes.”

Lyara smiled faintly, setting her bag beside Bram’s. They disappeared into their tent together, the low murmur of their voices blending with the sound of rustling leaves.

I made my way to my own tent, setting my pack inside before stepping out again to check the perimeter. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but old habits died hard.

Kael was leaning against a tree, spinning his short blade idly in one hand as he scanned the darkness.

“You planning on sleeping anytime this week?” I asked, crossing my arms as I watched him.

Kael grinned, his face lit by the faint glow of the fire Bram had started earlier. “Nah,” he said. “Not tired. I’ll keep watch. You go ahead and rest, grandma.”

I rolled my eyes, too tired to rise to the bait. “Fine. Don’t wake me unless the world’s ending.”

“You got it,” he said, giving a mock salute.

Shaking my head, I ducked into my tent. The fabric shimmered faintly as I passed through, the enchantment sealing out the chill air and leaving the inside warm and dry. I kicked off my boots, stretched out on the small cot, and pulled a blanket over me.

Outside, the fire crackled softly, the occasional rustle of leaves and Kael’s humming the only other sounds. For a moment, the world felt... manageable.

And with that, I closed my eyes, letting sleep take me.

The nightmare came quickly, like a sudden drop into a black void.

It wasn’t Lucian this time. No sharp suit, no golden eyes, no sickeningly smooth voice to twist my thoughts. This was something else—something worse.

The creature before me was a mockery of life, a grotesque, bloated thing that seemed to ooze filth from every pore. Its body was a swollen mass of mottled green and black flesh, covered in boils that pulsated with a sickly, rhythmic throb. Its face—or what I assumed was a face—was a horror show of features. One bulging eye was far larger than the other, twitching erratically, while its wide mouth was filled with crooked, yellowed teeth that jutted out at odd angles.

And it smiled.

That was the worst part. It didn’t speak, didn’t snarl or threaten—just smiled. A slow, vile grin that seemed to stretch impossibly wide, as if it enjoyed my revulsion, as if my disgust fed it.

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It was enough to jolt me awake.

I sat up in my tent, gasping for air, the image of that horrid creature still burned into my mind. My skin crawled, a wave of nausea twisting my stomach.

What the hell was that?

I had seen demons. Fought monsters. Even stared into the abyss that was Lucian’s smug, condescending gaze. But this... this thing had unsettled me in a way nothing else ever had. It wasn’t fear—it was pure, unfiltered disgust.

After a moment, I pulled myself together, though my hands were still trembling slightly. I reached for my staff, clenching it tightly as I peeked outside the tent.

The night was still, the rain long since stopped, and the fire had burned down to glowing embers. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light over the clearing. From its position, I guessed it was past midnight—morning wasn’t too far off.

My eyes landed on Kael, still leaning against the tree where I’d left him. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed, though he still clutched his short blade in one hand. The kid must’ve finally given in to exhaustion.

I sighed.

Shaking off the lingering unease from the dream, I stepped out of the tent and made my way to him, my boots crunching softly against the damp ground.

“Kael,” I said, nudging his shoulder with my staff.

He stirred, mumbling something incoherent before blinking groggily at me.

“Get some sleep,” I said, my voice softer than usual. “You’re useless to me half-awake.”

Kael yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “You sure? I can—”

“Go,” I cut him off, gesturing toward the tent. “Before I change my mind.”

He grinned sleepily, dragging himself upright. “Thanks, grandma,” he muttered, stumbling toward his tent.

I narrowed my eyes and tapped my staff lightly against the ground, letting a faint spark crackle from its tip. “Call me that again, and I’ll burn you to death, kid.”

Kael just nodded, his grin widening as if he knew I didn’t mean it. “Goodnight, grandma,” he quipped one last time before disappearing into his tent.

I shook my head, a sigh escaping me. Usually, when someone called me old, I’d get offended—snap back with some sarcastic jab or stew about it for a while. But somehow, when it came from him, it didn’t sting. Maybe it was because he didn’t say it with malice, just that easy, casual charm of his. Or maybe... I was starting to accept it.

I chuckled softly to myself, leaning against the tree and gripping my staff. Old. The word felt strange but not entirely unwelcome. After all, there were worse things to be.

The clearing was quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. My eyes scanned the darkness beyond the faint glow of our campfire’s embers, searching for anything out of place.

The hours stretched on, and somewhere past the midpoint of my watch, I saw movement down the road.

A small group of figures emerged from the shadows—soldiers. Their armor, once shining and polished, was now dulled and battered, caked in mud and blood. Their steps were heavy, each one a struggle against the weight of exhaustion and loss.

They weren’t gallant or proud, as they’d likely been when they’d marched to war. These soldiers were broken, their faces hollow and their eyes distant. One carried another on his shoulders—a comrade, judging by the limp arm dangling over his back. Dead or alive, I couldn’t tell.

I stayed where I was, watching as they trudged by, their boots leaving heavy prints in the mud.

It saddened me, but what could I do? I’d seen this before, over and over. War chewed people up and spat them out, leaving behind only fragments of who they once were.

What could anyone do?

I gripped my staff tighter, leaning my head back against the tree as the soldiers disappeared into the night. It wasn’t my fight, but the weight of their passing lingered. For now, though, the camp was safe. That would have to be enough.

A sharp whistle cut through the stillness of the night, followed by the crunch of heavy footsteps against the damp earth. My grip on my staff tightened as I turned toward the sound, and from the darkness emerged a group of men—twenty, maybe more—all armed with crude weapons and wearing grins that reeked of trouble.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath. Just what I needed.

They spread out quickly, their laughter and crude bickering echoing through the clearing as they circled me. Each one looked as unsavory as the next, their mismatched armor dented and dirty, their weapons more rust than steel.

One of them stepped forward, and if I’d thought the rest were unpleasant, this one was leagues worse. His long, greasy hair clung to his face, and his teeth—or what remained of them—were crooked and yellow. The man stank of piss and stale ale, the kind of smell that made you want to cast a cleansing spell just by standing near him.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice slurred and dripping with mockery. “A pretty little thing all on her lonesome out here? Ain’t you lucky we came along.”

I stood still, watching him with the same disinterest I might give to a fly buzzing around my head. He stepped closer, his grin widening as he looked me up and down, clearly mistaking my silence for fear.

“Look at ya,” he continued, spreading his arms wide as if inviting me to marvel at his magnificence. “Out here, under the stars, just waitin’ for someone like me to keep you company. And don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t bite...” He leaned in, his breath rancid. “Unless you want me to.”

The group roared with laughter, their weapons clanging together as they egged him on.

I sighed. “Sweetheart,” I said flatly, “if you come any closer, you’re going to regret it.”

His grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, puffing out his chest. “Oh, feisty one, eh? I like that.”

Ugh. Men.

The man smirked, taking another step toward me. His confidence oozed out like the stench of his breath, but that was fine. I let him get just close enough before raising my staff with a flick of my wrist.

“Warned you,” I said dryly.

With a burst of pure magic, an invisible force slammed into him like a battering ram. He flew backward, crashing into the dirt with a heavy thud that left him sprawled, groaning and dazed.

The laughter from his comrades stopped instantly. They stared at their fallen leader, then at me, their confusion quickly twisting into rage. One by one, their gazes hardened, weapons raised as they closed in.

“Oh, good,” I muttered. “More stupidity.”

Before I could decide which spell to use next, a blur of movement shot past me, fast enough to send the hem of my cloak fluttering.

Kael.

He launched himself into the group with the kind of speed I’d only seen from highly trained fighters. In mere seconds, he was a whirlwind of fists and elbows, his movements precise and devastating. The first man he hit crumpled to the ground before even realizing he’d been attacked. The second and third followed in quick succession, each knocked unconscious with well-placed strikes.

I raised an eyebrow, watching as Kael darted between them like a force of nature, moving too quickly for any of them to properly react. By the time he stepped back, half of the group was either unconscious or groaning in the mud.

“Well, that’s new,” I muttered, genuinely impressed despite myself.

The remaining men froze, their anger replaced with wide-eyed confusion. They looked at Kael, then at me, clearly reevaluating their life choices.

I took a step forward, letting my staff glow faintly for effect. “I’d suggest you piss off,” I said, my voice calm but laced with enough authority to make it clear I wasn’t asking. “We need to sleep, and you’re starting to get on my nerves.”

For a moment, they hesitated, glancing between each other like they were considering their options. Then, one by one, they lowered their weapons, muttering curses under their breath as they scrambled to gather their fallen comrades.

Kael watched them retreat, arms crossed and a cocky grin plastered across his face. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, turning to me.

I rolled my eyes. “I had it under control.”

“Sure you did, grandma,” he teased, stepping past me to lean against his tree again.

“Call me that one more time,” I warned, though there was no heat in my voice.

The camp fell quiet again as the last of the men disappeared into the night. I sighed, leaning back against my staff. Sleep would be harder to come by now, but at least I’d earned myself a little peace.

As the camp settled back into silence, I leaned against the tree, glancing at Kael, who was casually wiping the blood off his knuckles with a strip of cloth he pulled from his pocket. He looked far too relaxed for someone who had just taken down a small army of armed men.

“Alright,” I said, breaking the quiet. “Where the hell did you learn to do all that? You’re fast, kid. Faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Kael looked up, his usual grin making an appearance. “What, that little warm-up? Oh, you know, here and there.” He stretched his arms over his head lazily, as if the entire encounter had been no more taxing than a stroll.

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Here and there? Don’t be coy. That wasn’t just street brawling; that was technique. Precision. Who taught you?”

He shrugged, though I noticed the faintest flicker of pride in his eyes. “Alright, fine. When I was a kid, my mom sent me to this old guy in the mountains. A monk, lived alone, trained me from sunup to sundown. Said it would teach me discipline or whatever.”

I smirked. “Did it?”

Kael laughed, a light, easy sound. “You tell me.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped. “Well, discipline or not, you’re fast. I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks, grandma,” he quipped, leaning back against the tree with a mock bow.

I gave him a sidelong glare. “Don’t push it.”

He grinned, then gestured toward my staff. “What about you, huh? That blast you threw earlier—knocked him on his ass like it was nothing. And the shield spell? Seriously, how do you even keep something like that up in this weather?”

I tilted my head, considering him for a moment. “Lots of practice. And, unlike you, I’ve been around long enough to perfect it.”

“Okay, fair,” he admitted, his grin softening into something more genuine. “But still, I mean—magic. It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?”

“It has its uses,” I said, though a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Like keeping reckless kids like you alive.”

“Hey, I’m still here, aren’t I?” he shot back, laughing.

We traded stories as the hours crept by, him regaling me with tales of his childhood in the mountains, sparring with his monk teacher and sneaking away to pull pranks on the nearby villages. In return, I shared a few of my own—mostly about Roderick and the scrapes we’d gotten into over the years.

The conversation flowed easily, and for a while, I almost forgot about the night’s earlier chaos.

It wasn’t until the first rays of sunlight broke through the canopy that I realized how much time had passed. The morning air was crisp and cool, and the faint chirping of birds signaled the start of a new day.

By the time we reached the village, the sun was a relentless blaze in the cloudless sky, its heat beating down on us like a blacksmith’s hammer. Sweat clung to my skin, and even Kael had stopped bouncing on his toes, his usual energy subdued by the oppressive warmth.

The village itself sprawled out in the valley below, a haphazard collection of cottages and wooden structures with thatched roofs, all clustered around a central well. Dirt paths wound between the buildings, well-trodden but dry and cracked from the sun. Chickens and goats milled about, their movements slow and lethargic in the heat.

It was quiet—too quiet. No children running through the streets, no merchants hawking their wares. Just a handful of villagers moving about with heavy steps, their faces drawn and wary.

Beyond the village, the hill rose steeply, its jagged slopes dotted with sparse patches of grass and hardy shrubs. At its peak, perched like a malevolent god surveying its domain, was the dragon.

The sheer size of it was staggering. Its scales gleamed like molten rubies in the sunlight, rippling with every subtle movement of its massive body. Wings folded against its sides, the membranes a deep crimson that darkened to black at the edges, looked large enough to blot out the sun when fully extended. Its tail, long and ridged with sharp spines, flicked lazily against the rocky ground, sending small avalanches of loose stone tumbling down the hill.

From this distance, its head alone was as large as one of the village’s cottages, its razor-sharp horns curling back in a regal, almost crown-like fashion. Even though it was motionless, its presence dominated the landscape, an oppressive weight that made the air feel thicker, harder to breathe.

Kael let out a low whistle, his eyes wide as he craned his neck to take in the full size of the beast. “Well... that’s bigger than I thought it’d be.”

“Most things are, kid,” Bram grunted, shifting his hammer on his shoulder. His usual gruff confidence seemed strained as he stared up at the hill.

Lyara glanced at me, her face calm but her fingers twitching slightly at her side. “Are we sure about this?” she asked quietly.

I didn’t answer right away, my gaze fixed on the dragon. My staff felt heavier in my hand as I considered the scale of what we were about to face.

“We don’t have a choice,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the churn of unease in my gut. “We’re here, and that thing’s not going to leave on its own.”

Kael nodded, his grin faltering only slightly. “Guess we’re about to find out how tough we really are, huh?”

Bram let out a dry laugh. “Speak for yourself, kid. I already know.”

The four of us stood at the edge of the village, the dragon looming over us like a shadow of death. For a moment, none of us moved, each of us lost in our thoughts.

Kael squinted up at the hill, shading his eyes with one hand as he studied the dragon’s imposing silhouette. “So... are we climbing that mountain?” he asked, a faint edge of uncertainty in his voice.

Bram let out a booming laugh, shaking his head as he reached into his pack. “Of course not, kid. That’d be suicide. No, we’re bringing the dragon to us.”

From the depths of his bag, Bram produced a small pouch, no bigger than a coin purse. He held it up with a grin, the contents shifting with a faint rustling sound. “Dragon bait,” he announced proudly.

Kael blinked. “Wait, that’s it? That tiny thing?”

“Don’t let the size fool you,” Bram said, his tone smug. “When I open this, that dragon up there is going to smell it and come flying straight for us.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Which means,” I said, pointing my staff toward the village, “we need to get out of here. The last thing I want while fighting a dragon is a bunch of villagers running around, needing rescue. We need a big, empty space to fight it on our terms.”

Bram nodded, his grin fading slightly as he surveyed the area. “Agreed. Wide-open ground. No cover for it, plenty of room for us to maneuver.”

“Okay, so we lure it down,” Lyara said, stepping closer. Her calm, measured voice cut through the tension. “But how are we going to actually fight it? We’ve seen it now—its size, its power. We need a plan.”

“Exactly,” I said, planting my staff firmly in the dirt. “Let’s talk tactics.”

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To be continued