The Book of Red Strings

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. But curiously, there were always other fabled beasts, too, and the people that lived within those verdant forests called them dragons, or fürors in their mother tongue.

Her quiet, intrusive thoughts wrestled with the massive din of the bazaar's busy shop owners and hagglers. It wasn't easy money on a Sunday morning, Nadine mused as she carefully curated the sets of fine cutlery out to the impatient line of vendors. "Dear," a middle-aged ayah approached her from the sidelines, humbly presenting her with a locket neatly wrapped in chiffon.

"Would you care to buy this? It comes from the Eastern Valley. They say the wearer of this lovely blood-red string piece will acquire many great and unimaginable things..."

The lady patted the sac delicately and placed it on the table between them.

"What's that about?" Nadine inquired, half-heartedly picking at the fabric that surrounded the locket. Conversely, the lady's eyes shone with an unexplainable excitement and wisdom that betrayed a dark, sinister aura.

"It's for you to find out. The dragons weren't always a part of the Valley." She spoke in a hermetic fashion, which caught Nadine's attention.

Nadine was but a child when she, too, distinctly remembered seeing one of the dragon creatures for herself. Only a year old at most and far too young to know better, she ran up close, clutching her dainty ragdoll to her chest as it hovered magnificently above the ground on all fours like a massive cat. It peered down at her amicably, with glowing embers for eyes. Likewise, she stared up at its giant quadruped form in a wide-eyed wonder, entirely mesmerised by the creature's appearance. It was an eerie cerulean colour tinged with an odd shade of purple, and onyx streaks ran down its wrinkly side-folds like bubbly veins through stone. Nadine watched it float effortlessly, halfway between land and sea. All of a sudden, the dragon let out an amused, rumbling sound.

"Hello, little one," it said, its voice strangely drawled. Nadine could feel its gentle regard and knew, subconsciously, that it wasn't malicious or anything.

"How'd you get here?" she asked, cautiously. She thought she saw a wistful smile tugging ever so tacitly at the corners of the dragon's ivory-billed mouth.

"I used to live in this place," it began, its grief-stricken lilt echoing around the small, empty marketplace. In a fraction of a Lilliputian second, it had moved closer to Nadine, hovering just beside her ear now. Without warning, its hot breath billowed around her neck, tickling her fuzzy nape harmlessly. She giggled, taken aback by the warm and fragrant sensation, and concealed herself further in its canopied wings.

"Do you remember me, Nadine?" her new friend asked. It looked as if it was unexpectedly engrossed in her answer.

"A little," she replied, shying away from it.

"You must have seen me here a few times." The dragon hummed thoughtfully, as if replaying a rush of memories in its head from all the times that they had met earlier.

"Can I keep this?" Nadine interjected, innocently twiddling with the red strings of the necklace with nimble fingers.

"Of course." It laughed sonorously.

"It's all yours." And with a spiffy flick of its horned tail, the creature fluttered gracefully back into the evening air, leaving a breathless Nadine gripping the locket tightly against the ruffled hem of her frock. She watched it fly away with a diminutive smile on her face.

"Thank you!" Nadine shouted after the dragon as it developed into a tiny blue dot far away in the clear skies. Grinning from ear to ear, the little lady started skipping happily down a dusty trail on her way back home. Nadine then recalled the events of the following days, during which she had searched for the locket through the musty drawers in the kitchenette and burrowed deep into her bed-sofa linen covers. She'd explored every crevice, even turned the house upside down in the process, but alas, to no avail.

She grimaced at the late memory and resumed packing a suite of gilded ornaments in green, wafer-thin gauze. Out of the corner of her eye, Nadine noticed the same old woman standing stiffly to her side, all by her lonesome, and pitied her. So she began expressing interest in the poor lady's persistent spiels, only to be stopped in her tracks when she came to examine the locket. Her breath hitched at the unmistakable resemblance it had to the gift that she had received as a child.

But that would mean...

"No way..."

She gasped audibly, turning her head left and right until her anticipating gaze fell on a pair of large, pearlescent eyes fixed on her face; they were watching her intently and silently, almost like a stray dog waiting for scraps. The visibly maimed beast then let out a beckoning yowl, communicated telepathically to an anxious Nadine. Almost reflexively, her hand flew to her heart, trying hard not to get swamped by express rage at its pain. Her heightened senses also verified that the growl was a very familiar one. And that only meant one thing to the girl.

"Sylvio?! Is that you?!"

Bawling, Nadine skittered towards her old friend and leaped into its open arms, subsequently making her legs give way from under her.

"Hey there," Sylvio greeted her, its voice gravelly from disuse but still full of emotion.

"Oh my God!" Nadine reached out to the dragon and gently caressed its depressed and awry wing carpus, tracing her shivering fingers over the pattern of scaly scaffolding.

"What happened?" she remarked sadly.

The injured füror’s clavicle was pushed forward as it breathed weakly in response.

"As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; They kill us for their sport."

Sylvio barely managed to vocalise a bit of a phrase. Right after which, it coughed up an unnatural amount of bile and crimson, flecks of which splattered alongside Nadine's black shawl. She held its convulsive front with her tiny hands in an attempt to calm the dragon, and all the while, its stature shook with fervor. The afore-said concealed accusation now sounded more like a broken sob than something like a statement.

"Who did it?" Nadine asked, her hands lingering on its tattered hide.

"Viscount Fakir and his human companions."

"They came for us that night. The Count said we were monsters and he was going to kill our kind, along with all the other fürors that resided within his empire," Sylvio continued, posing on its bent phalanges with increasing difficulty. Nadine's gaze faltered on its igneous-like red eyes that glistened with unshed tears. She shuddered at the prospect of a mass purge; the Valley would never be the same again with the after-effects of the war propaganda. Sooner or later, most members of the dragon and human species would be blotted out mercilessly, leaving an inharmonious ratio of humans to creatures within the ecosystems of the Valley. Suddenly, Nadine's head began brimming with noises that she knew all too well. She became still with fear and anxiousness, both drowning her senses in hot and prickly cold sensations. It almost made her forget the plight of her dearest companion for a brief, dissociative moment. Then, out of a sudden panic, she switched her empty gaze to a worried one, accompanied by a twinge of remorse upon observing the mangled body of her once proud friend. All these years, she hadn’t spotted Sylvio or even cared to, and because of that, it had suffered alone.

Nadine felt awful about having been unable to shield such a brave and noble creature from the cruel hands of men who wanted to extract the soul magic that it contained, the very essence and lifeblood of a dragon, without which it would be better off dead. Even now, their greed knew no bounds as they stood at bay, awaiting their chance to grasp the invaluable vestiges of its coeur element. Nadine recalled her father saying that the mark of a dragon is a powerful tie between one's self and attending füror. He was always passionate about the preservation of the dragon species and would surely be furious at her negligence. In a paroxysm of self-directed rage, her hands flew to the pendant around her neck and paused mid-air when she felt a cool, tingling breeze on her forearm resting on Sylvio’s nares. It was growing wearier by the second, and she knew she had to act quickly before Sylvio's condition deteriorated any further.

"I won't let that Count get his filthy hands on your precious soul!" She cried vehemently, grabbing Sylvio's claw and pulling it towards her.

Without thinking, she draped the threads over the dragon's lopsided head, wrapping them securely around its snout. She then frantically took hold of a handful of red lassos and prepared herself for what was about to happen next.

"Here, Sylvio."

Her hands and voice quavered as she outstretched the strings behind it with a sweet and reassuring smile. Tears of shame welled up in her eyes, but she tried her very best not to cry, lest it feel bad for her.

Sylvio didn't deserve it.

For a fleeting instance, the beast seemed to be contemplating her offer with an indistinguishable expression, but eventually, it surrendered to its fate quietly. Nadine watched as it slowly shut its eyes and cupped a bundle of the scarlet fibres in its mouth. Its powerful mandible bit down on it forcefully. The next time Sylvio's eyes opened, the locket had moved over to the top of its head, and it now sat snugly over the dragon's glassy maroon eyes. It was the last thing Nadine was blessed to see before it became shrouded in a heavy mist of vermillion sparkles and disappeared.

Following the dragon's death, the Valley was quickly plunged into a terrible warring between Fakir's army and the Valley's army, as both sides fought for control of the Valley. The battle lasted for 8 months and claimed the lives of creatures and humans alike. But, ultimately, a truce was made and the Valley was declared safe, henceforth known as the 'Valley of Dragons'.

"They're here!"

"Look!!!"

Nadine shrieked excitedly, pointing at the black and white specks approaching swiftly from afar; it was her father and the rest of her brothers. The five young men, clad in full armor, marched towards them. Their movements were slow, deliberate yet powerful, and their faces contorted with anger and malice. Their long blades were drawn, dripping with their own blood, and they bore their weapons menacingly. Nadine watched from behind her mother's feet as the group approached, growing taller with every step.