The Dragon's Bride
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P.J.Williams
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802K
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39
Chapter 1
Once upon a timeâno, thatâs not how this story starts.
This is Desolation, Middleton.
Itâs a tiny village, tucked away somewhere west of the moon, east of the sun, and barely a dot on the map of the Country of Charming.
There are only two hundred seventy-five people here.
Funny, right?
Charming in Desolation, or maybe itâs Desolation with a bit of Charming.
Either way, this place isnât like those cute small towns you see in movies.
Unless youâre picturing an old black-and-white film where everyoneâs bundled up in fur, the roads are just broken concrete, and the capital feels like itâs on another planet.
No Starbucks.
No supermarket.
Just tradingâfish for grainâif the weather isnât so cold it feels like even the sun is frozen.
The high school and preschool are the same building. One chalkboard. The teachers are elders so old they can barely remember their own names.
A few people were smart enough to leave. The restâeither too stubborn or too cluelessâstayed.
The village chief and his crew live up north, where visitors see first.
The poorer families are tucked down south, hidden from important guests or anyone with money.
The middle class?
Theyâre scattered all over, like someone tried to pretend classismâand every other âismââdoesnât exist.
Desolation is simple.
Easy, in a way.
But itâs not a kind place.
The elders are mostly stuck in their waysâquick to get angry, slow to understand.
Honestly, they shouldâve called it Snoring MacBoring.
Nothing ever happened here.
Wellâuntil now.
No one saw it coming.
Not even the town crier, whose daughter swore she could see the futureâthanks to some oracle.
Stories.
Thatâs all they were.
Fairytales mothers told their kids not to believe, calling them silly and dangerous.
But what if they were true?
***
The sun was sinking low, painting the icy lake gold and turning the mountains soft and amber.
A handful of kidsânone of them older than twentyâhuddled by the shore, where the ice had cracked and the water was dark and cold.
They wrapped themselves in blankets, shivering, but they didnât leave.
They were all watching the same person.
Old Tamas sat on his favorite rock, hunched but still proud, a worn cloak around his shoulders.
His fishing line cut through the quiet, bobbing every now and then.
Next to him was a satchel of salted jerky and a tin flask that smelled like elderberryâand something a little stronger.
Catori sat cross-legged in the snow, with Halona right beside her.
They listened, wide-eyed.
A few others from Desolation were there too.
Calian, one of the chiefâs cocky sons, lounged nearby with a smug grin.
Some of the other boys and girls whispered, shooting skeptical looks at Tamas.
âIt was just after the frostfall,â Tamas started, his voice rough and low, the kind that makes everything sound like a legend.
âWhen the nights were longer than the days, and the sky split open with red fire. We thought it was just a storm. But oh, it werenât no stormâŚâ
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing like he could see it all over again.
âI was just a kid, about your age. Out hunting with my father when the ground started shaking. Then came this roarâlike the mountains themselves were groaning. We looked up, and there it was. Wings as big as sails. Scales shining green and gold, like someone spilled the sun. A dragon, clear as the stars. It flew straight for the mountains.â
Someone in the group snorted.
Tamas didnât even blink.
He just kept going, his voice getting louder, more dramatic.
âThey say dragons were once godsâfallen from the sky during the first war between men and spirits. Their fire made the rivers, their claws split the cliffs, and their hearts are buried in the peaks. Thatâs why nothing grows above the tree lineâitâs sacred. Too much power sleeps up there.â
Calian let out a loud, mocking laugh. âThatâs a cute story for kids. My father says these are just bedtime tales, Tamas. Stuff to keep you warm when all youâve got left is soup and shadows.â
The group laughed, following Calianâs lead.
Tamas looked at him for a long moment, totally calm. âYour father forgets the old blood runs deeper than his council meetings.â
Calian smirked. âSo you really believe dragons live in those mountains? That you actually saw one?â
âI did,â Tamas said, his voice steady. âAnd Iâm not the only oneâjust the only one left alive to talk about it.â
Laughter broke out, sharp and mean.
Someone snorted, and another muttered, âSenile.â
But then Catori stood up, her back straight. âI believe him.â
Every head turned her way.
Her cheeks were pink, but it wasnât from the cold.
The silence was heavy, until someone let out a snicker.
Calian stepped forward, his grin all smug and condescending. âDonât be a child, Catori. Only someone with one brain cell would believe this foolâs babbling.â
That got a few more laughs, even from people who didnât know which side to pick.
Halona stood up too, her chin lifted. âJust because you donât believe it doesnât mean itâs not real.â
âOh please, Halona,â Calian said, rolling his eyes. âYouâre just defending her because sheâs your little shadow.â
Catori clenched her jaw so tightly it almost hurt. âI donât care what you think, Calian. Not everything has to be proven to be true. Some things are just felt. Known.â
Tamas let out a dry, scratchy laugh. âYou mock now, boy. But mark my wordsâwhen the skies burn again and you see wings over your house, donât come crying to the mad old man.â
âIâll take my chances,â Calian said, giving a dramatic bow. âGood luck with the sky gods, ladies.â He walked off, his friends trailing behind, still laughing.
When they were gone, Catori sat back down, her fists tight in her lap. âWhy do they always do that? Why canât they just listen for once?â
Halona dropped beside her, brushing snow off her coat. âBecause theyâre dumb. Itâs easier to make fun of what you donât get than to admit you might not know anything at all.â
Old Tamas gave Catori a crooked smile. âDonât let them sour your spirit, girl. Youâve got the sight. I can tell. That kind of fire? It draws the truth near.â
She looked at him, unsure. âThe truth?â
He nodded, eyes serious. âThe dragons are waking again. And they always call to those who can hear them.â
***
Catori stayed behind after everyone else left, crouched by the waterâs edge. She ran her fingers through the icy shallows, lost in her own thoughts. She didnât hear him until the snow crunched under his boots.
âWalking home alone?â Calianâs voice was smooth, almost gentle.
Catori didnât answer right away. She stood up slowly, brushing off her coat, her eyes still on the dark horizon. âWhy do you care?â
He shrugged, stepping closerâway too close. âJust being decent. Itâs a long walk back, and itâs cold. No one wants to find you frozen like a snow hare come morning.â
She sighed, tired. âFine. Walk if you want.â
They walked in silence, the only sound the hush of snow under their boots and the crack of ice on the lake.
Then Calian spoke again. âYou know, if you wanted to be with me, youâd have to let all that dragon talk go.â
Catori shot him a look. âExcuse me?â
He smirked. âThe stories. The fantasies. Youâd have to drop them. No more making a fool of yourself in front of the town.â
She stopped walking, her breath coming out in a cloud. âWho said I wanted to be with you?â
Calian turned, eyebrows raised, looking amused. âCome on, Catori. Everyone sees the way you look when Iâm around.â
Her laugh was sharp, almost bitter. âYouâre delusional.â
He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. âAm I? Because you havenât turned around and left, either.â
Catori crossed her arms, holding herself tight. âYou just like the idea of someone wanting you who doesnât already hang off your every word. Thatâs what this is.â
He chuckled, tilting his head. âMaybe. Or maybe I see something in you. Something wild. Untamed. That could be dangerousâor useful.â
Her eyes narrowed. âUseful?â
He didnât even flinch at the edge in her voice. âLook, I could give you a good life. Youâd never want for anything. Youâd have the best clothes, warm food every day, real respect. All youâd have to do is be obedient. No more rebellion. No more dragon stories.â
She scoffed, shaking her head. âYou think Iâd trade my voice, my mind, just to play wife to one of the chiefâs spoiled little brats?â
His face soured for a second, but then he smoothed it over with that same old smirk. âYou think youâre too good for Desolation, donât you?â
âI think I want something real,â she said, her voice soft at first, then louder, ânot the illusion of safety with a collar around my neck.â
They stood there in the snow, their breath making little clouds in the freezing air. Their eyes were locked, like they were daring each other to look away first.
âYouâre fire, Catori,â Calian said, his voice soft but sure. âBut fire can be dangerous if left unchecked. It needs control.â
âMaybe I donât want to be controlled.â
He smiled, just a little. âI could teach you how to use that fire, if you let me.â
She turned to keep walking, but he moved in front of her, blocking her path. Before she could react, he leaned in and kissed herâquick and sharp, like he was stealing something.
She froze. Her whole body just stopped, like it forgot how to move.
Then she shoved him away, hard. âWhat the hell was that?â she snapped.
He grinned, but there was something darker in his eyes, something she couldnât quite name. âA gift,â he said. âYouâll want more. One day.â
âDonât count on it,â she shot back, spinning away and storming off.
He didnât follow her this time.
The wind picked up as she walked home alone, her heart pounding in her chest. It wasnât from the kissâit was from the angry, stubborn certainty that she would never belong to someone like him.
Then something changed.
Her breath caught, sharp and sudden. A weird tightness squeezed her chest, like invisible hands were pressing in on her ribs.
She stumbled, grabbing at her coat, trying to claw away whatever was crushing her lungs. Her heart was beating so loudly it felt like it was echoing in her ears.
âWhatâs⌠happening?â she gasped, dropping to her knees in the snow.
Her vision went blurry, but not from tears. It was like the whole world was tilting, bending sideways.
Her breath came in short, ragged bursts. She clutched her chest, her hands shaking, nails digging into the fabric as she fought to breathe.
Thenânothing.
Just silence.
Stillness.
She blinked, and the world looked⌠wrong.
Everything was washed in soft silver, the trees glowing like theyâd been soaked in moonlight. The snow under her glowed faintly too, but she couldnât feel it anymore.
The cold was gone.
And then she saw herself.
Her body was lying in the snow, crumpled, not moving. Her arms were wrapped around her chest, her eyes wide and shocked.
But she was above it all.
Floating.
Weightless.
Untethered.
Catori tried to scream, but nothing happened. Her mouth didnât even move.
She was just staring down at her own body, like her spirit had been wrenched from herâtorn away like a page from a book.
This canât be real.
She gasped, like she was coming up for air after being underwater. Her body arched, breath rushing back into her lungs.
The world snapped back to normal, colors dulling, the cold biting at her cheeks again. Her knees burned from the frozen ground.
Whatever it wasâit was gone.
She scrambled to her feet, panting, her hands shaking so hard she could barely stand. Sweat clung to her skin, even though it was freezing, and her pulse was all over the place.
She stumbled back toward the village, almost falling more than once as she ran through the snow.
She didnât stop. Not when she reached the edge of Desolation, where the firelight flickered. Not until she slammed her door shut, locked it, and collapsed onto her bed, still shaking.
She stared up at the ceiling, her heart still hammering so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
Something had happened.
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