The Last Dragon

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Very soon, Suren thought, there would be no dragons here once more.

She was running. Following the path the Great River had carved into this land millenia ago. The riverbed was dried up, the sediment dusty under her quick footfalls. Suren felt like that, like her overflowing current of hope had evaporated one scorching day and never returned.

She didn’t know when she had stopped fighting and started running. Maybe it was when they killed Amaya. Or maybe it was even before that, when her village had surrendered the Valley all those months ago. Maybe it was only three days ago, when Exanth had fallen and Suren became the only prey left to chase.

But today she knew she would stop running. Today, Suren would give up. And if everything went right, she would save the dragons.

It felt strange to be back here. To return to the place she was raised and see what a mess the Marisen had made of it. The Valley was a husk of what it used to be. She wished she’d never seen it like this. It would have been better to die still thinking it looked as she remembered- the bright blue river and lush green grass and red and orange rock and those purple flowers that pushed up out of the earth like talons.

Now the Valley was gray. Nothing grew here anymore.

A screech pierced the air. They knew she was here. She thought she might have noticed a shadow pass overhead, but it was hard to tell what was real, and what she imagined, these days. Paranoia, or something like that.

She just needed to make it to the cave. There, she would bury what she came to bury, and wait for the Marisen to finish the rest.

She fell to her knees when she finally arrived. She was so tired, so constitutionally exhausted, it didn’t feel like giving up to stop running. It felt like laying herself to rest.

Inside the cave, she unwrapped the package that she had carried against her chest since Exanth had passed it to her with his last bit of strength. Since then she’d felt its heat, warm and sure against her heart, urging her onward. To here.

Out of its drab wrapping, the Dragon Stone glowed in the dark of the cave. Black except for the golden flame contained within. The life force of her species. As long as the flame still burned, the Dragons would rise again.

Suren buried it as quickly as she could. The Marisen didn’t know about this place. To them, it would just be an unremarkable cave. But Suren knew of the old magic that made its home here. She summoned it now.

“Where fire burns, fire grows. Let what has fallen rise again.” She whispered. Simple words, but she knew they were sufficient. The words weren’t the important part. That was the blood.

As if on cue, Suren heard a Marisen land on the ground outside the cave.

“Come out, come out Suren. You can’t hide in there forever.” It was Silas. She heard taunting laughs echo his voice. He would have his little posse with him. They thought themselves part of their King’s hunting party. Really, they were just there to stroke his ego.

Suren knew he would kill her. She was never any match for Silas. Really, it was a wonder she’d made it this far. Far enough, she thought. Just far enough.

She came out of the mouth of the cave and faced him.

“Silas. Hate what you’ve done with the place.” She said, deadpan, gesturing to their bleak surroundings.

He gave a low, humorless laugh. “Don’t tell me you came back hoping to redecorate. I’m quite fond of this new addition to my Kingdom. It’s so… quaint.”

Suren looked around at the desolate landscape. She didn’t see the point in living somewhere just to use it up.

“Don’t be silly. I came back to kill you.” Suren replied with a smirk.

“By all means. Try.” Silas said.

And then Suren exploded. Where her human form stood only seconds before, was a creature of smoke and flame, red scales glinting in the light of the sun. Here, as her true self, she would meet her end. The last of her kind. The Last Dragon.

Silas was not to be outdone. He and his cadre quickly assumed their Marisen forms. The black winged creatures dwarfed Suren in size. She did not cower, though. She unleashed hell.

The battle was short but Suren did not make it easy. She killed three of Silas’s group, the Marisen seeping black blood into the gray earth, before Silas took a bite out of her neck that she knew would be her end.

She fell, resuming human form as she grew weaker. Silas did as well. Easier for him to gloat this way, she thought.

“Poor Suren.” Silas crooned. “The last of a great species. No one left to mourn you.”

“Don’t lie. You know you’ll miss me.” Suren said, with a wink. Black spots clouded her vision. She couldn’t feel much anymore. It felt so strange to die. She found herself thinking, absurdly, that she didn’t know what to do now, having never done this before.

“How does it feel, knowing you failed them?” Silas whispered next to her. She felt his humid breath in her ear.

With the last of her strength, she turned to meet his cold gaze. “I didn’t fail.” She let out one last shuddering breath. If she’d had any strength left, it would have been a laugh.

Someday, this world will be the old world, Suren thought as she drifted away. No one will remember me. Or Silas, or any of us. This land will forget him, and its color will come back. She couldn’t see anything now, but she had the strange sensation of floating. Flying. The memory of wind under her wings. Those who come after me will not know my name, but they will know someone bled here, so they might live.

And then she did not think anything at all.

There were no more dragons in the Valley. But one day, there would be. What had fallen would rise again.