The Reflection of Fire

There weren’t always dragons in the valley.

Before the deafening screams from mourning mothers echoed through the winding woods, there had been birds that perched on trees, whistling tunes to each other as well as any kind traveler who happened to pass by.

Before the river ran red with... well, you know... there had been salmon with pink and green scales that swam with the current out to the bay.

Before darkness spread its wide, scaled wings over the sacred land, there had been sunshine, and happiness, and peace.

But that time was no more.

The smoke steadily rising into the horizon from the valley’s village provided more than enough evidence to attest to that. It burrowed itself in the villager’s lungs, burning them with more than just the grief of losing their homes. It was a wall that slammed down on them, forcing them to leave their homes as if it was never theirs to begin with, as if they were merely tenants, subject to be evicted without any notice. The fire cackled as its smoke billowed up in thick plumes to suffocate the last vestiges of the fading sunlight. It took the last glimmer of hope the villagers had along with it.

The weary settlers made their way out of the wide open plains, ash coated fingers scraping across the last few flowers that stood untarnished against the wreckage. Their tired eyes looked away from the fire and towards the mountains for safety, the last place they could think of where they might find shelter from the terrible beast that had claimed their homes. Cracked lips whispered hushed goodbyes to the land they once called their own. Silver tears traced their way down the dirtied necks of the former villagers. They would never be the same, yet they seemed resigned to their fate as one by one they turned away from their homes and began the dreary trudge up the thick slopes. They left the ashes of their former home to forge a fresh place in the wilderness. To start over. To begin anew. Why did they find it so easy to move on when they had just seen everything they knew burn to pieces before them?

They all moved on, ready to start a new chapter under the shade of the looming pine trees. All except one.

A teenager, hardly more than a child, with bare shoulders that sported freckles from long days spent underneath the sun and blue eyes that spoke of a thousand seasons that never should’ve been seen, stood clutching the last blade of grass on the outskirts of the forest. Wind trailed through their locks of hair, but they didn't so much as flinch in the cool evening breeze. They watched the hulking black shadow that curled over the burning town with all the focus of a hawk. As the dragon swooped a swirled down into the smoke rising from the village, their shoulders tensed, like a cat getting ready to pounce.

A woman came up from behind them, soft curls and even softer hands pressing against their taught shoulders. She mumbled something in their ear. They couldn’t hear her above the screaming in their head, the sound of fire licking away at every last possession they held dear, the smoke filling their lungs. As they stared at the wreckage of their home, drowning in the memories of what once was, their breathing became fast, hurried, as if there wasn’t enough of it. And despite the fact the wind brushing against them said otherwise, part of them knew there wasn’t enough air. There never would be again. The woods would never feel the same as the soft blades of grass they held clutched between their fingers. The stars would never shine as brightly as they did from atop their childhood home. They would never feel as at peace as they had when they were surrounded by the last vestiges of the parents they should have known.

When they finally came back to their senses their knees were soaking in the mud. The soft blades of grass they had been holding in their hand were nothing more than green stains on their fingers now. Water slipped from their cheeks, mixing into the dirty water beneath them. They wiped the tears away with a frustrated hand and a disgruntled sniff. There was a hand on their shoulder, moving gently from side to side, up and down. They wanted to lean back into it, to absorb the comfort like their trousers did the mud. But they couldn’t. They knew it wasn’t the same- it would never be the same as it had been before the darkness had come with its scales and fire.

The dragon roared, closer than they last remembered, and heat erupted into the air. They dug their hands deeper into the mud, clenching it between their fists until all they could feel was their own skin. The hand on their shoulder tightened in fear, pulling them back, farther away from their home. But they couldn't go. Not yet.

They looked up from the mud, but not in the direction of the hand. Rather, they stared straight forward, directly into the eyes of the beast that ruined their life, ruined their home, ruined everything. Crimson eyes of frozen ice met steely blues whose only reflection was fire.

The soft hand left their shoulder. A frightened cry of “Rowan!” echoed through the valley.

Rowan’s blue eyes crinkled in a smile of vicious defeat, their teeth bared in a smile that was more grimace than joy, and they whispered in a voice that held the weight of a thousand kept promises, “you will regret making an enemy of me.”

And the valley erupted into flame.