My eyes snapped open and my body moved as it had the night the Fellbeast struck. Only now, it was not fear, but determination that guided my feet. I threw open the back door with no concern for my sleeping mother and brother, stormed down the dirt path to the garden, and stood across from the table, glaring at the empty air.

  “I know you’re still here.” I said aloud, as though I were addressing a delinquent goat or a misbehaving child. “If you’ve something to say to me, if you wish to stop me in my pursuit, then I bid you do it on this side. You know how to find me, if you’re so brazen!”

  The night remained silent; the air still. But then, a shift. Overhead, the stars shone brighter; the moon peeked out from where it hid behind a curtain of clouds. The knot in my stomach and the tightness in my chest, products of that momentary gaze into its terrible eyes, faded.

  It was gone, just as quickly as it came.

  I released my held breath and hurried to the table. My hands were already aglow as I reached out to touch Hope’s Bloom, its petals blackened and frayed. It welcomed my light, drinking it down as an ailing child downs a sweet medicine. The burn resisted my touch, but gave in with only a meager fight.

  My challenge accepted, I knew my time was surely short. If I were to find the means to fight the abyss that gazed into me, I couldn’t afford to waste time.

  ***

  For the next three days, I refused to leave the garden, refused to even sleep, lest I encounter that dark shadow once more. I neither ate nor drank, too consumed by my work to be bothered. It wasn’t enough to just reach the final stretch; I had to reach the destination. The Answer was within reach; I needed only to reach out and grasp it before time ran out.

  It was on the dawn of the fourth day, when Mother came to visit me again, that I’d finally reached my breaking point. Hunched over my work, watching with unblinking eyes as the alembic did its duty, I flinched hearing footsteps approaching.

  “Please, leave me. I just need a little more time. Another minute, another hour, even another moment and I think I may just —” I clenched my jaw and trailed off when she joined me.

  She said nothing to interrupt me; only sat and watched as I pulled the receiver free and skimmed the new substance. While I worked, she turned off the burner. She fetched a clean phial and prepared it. Then she returned to her seat and watched once more.

  Only after I set down the pipette and examined the viscous purple substance, did she speak. But it wasn’t the object of my obsession she addressed.

  “This flower…this is a new one, is it not?”

  I looked up, watching as she brushed the flower’s thorns and caressed its white-violet petals with a careful touch.

  “It is. The one I’ve spoken of all this time.” I said, nodding, hearing my voice for the first time in days. There was a tremor in my words, a mania behind them that frightened me. But if she heard it, she made no indication.

  Instead, she nodded. “And the extract? That is your answer?”

  “I…” Words failed me. Hope and fear in equal parts stilled my lips and squeezed the air from my lungs. Instead, I took a dropper and gathered a sample. Then, I retrieved a blackened phial — the last of the fellblood — and opened it.

  We held our breaths and watched the glittering drop fall into the inky black.

  ***

  “Now, you mustn’t overdo it. A single drop is enough for each crop. If I may?” I turned to Charles, who stood nearby, enraptured by my explanation.

  “O-of course, Celeste! By all means.” He gestured to the row of corn. “And you’re certain it’s safe?” He added as I kneeled down next to the nearest stalk.

  “I am.” I replied, pouring out a drop. “The plums used to make the ale you’ve been enjoying were grown by these same means.”

  The family watched — Chaucer gasped aloud, while Louise placed a hand on her husband’s arm — as Hope’s Tears went to work, restoring the damaged stalk. Charles’ eyes misted over, his hand covering his gaping mouth as ears of corn sprouted anew.

  “I’m afraid I’ve yet to discover a means that extends the same longevity to livestock.” I said with a chuckle, rising to my feet. “But, if you would be so kind, Charles?”

  Spring Hill’s resident farmer stumbled forward on stiff legs and raised a shaking hand to the plant. He took one ear in hand, the corn silks browning in his grasp as we watched. Then, peeling it back, his eyes grew even wider to see plump kernels already waiting.

  “Chaucer, my knife.”

  “Here, Papa!” The stout little boy handed the tool over to his father. He looked up at me with a broad grin and sparkling eyes. A look that made my mouth turn dry and caused my smile to waver.

  I told myself it was because of Hope’s Tears and nothing more. But I knew that was a lie.

  Instead of letting that thought run wild, I focused my attention on Charles. I watched him poke one kernel, his blade stained with a rich, creamy juice.

  “Titania spare us…Celeste, how did — where did — I mean…” Charles grasped the ear in his hand and tore it off with a sharp, downward twist. Then his mouth fell open as another ear sprouted in its place. In just over a minute, it reached full size, and its silk turned brown and crisp. “This can’t be real, girl. I mean, Lady Heal—”

  “Enough of that.” Stepping forward, I took his hand. Then, I turned it over, placed a phial of Hope’s Tears within his palm, and closed his fingers around it. “You’ve bloodied your hands and broken your back for years to feed us, Charles. Though this cannot repay a lifetime of service, I pray it can ease your burdens even the slightest.”

  Charles screwed his lips shut. Fat tears rolled down his sunburnt cheeks. He turned his gaze skyward and wiped them away. Then he removed his hat and turned to me with the biggest smile I’d ever seen buried beneath his bushy beard. “I don’t know what we did to deserve you, girl. But, all the work I’ve done and all the work I’ll yet do won’t be enough.”

  I shook my head. “Nonsense. It was your hard work that kept our bellies full through our bleak winters. It was Louise who stitched the dress I wear now. This gift is…” My voice grew soft and my heart heavy. “The very least I can do…after…” A lump of guilt swelled in my throat. “Making you all wait for so long…”

  Without warning, Charles engulfed me in his giant arms.

  “Don’t you go saying stuff like that, girl. You’ve been a blessing from the day ol’ Rosalie delivered you, and don’t you think for a second it isn’t true.” He kissed my head and squeezed me tight.

  I felt my throat loosened and swallowed the tears I promised I was done shedding.

  “Every minute we spent waiting,” he kissed me again and squeezed once more before stepping back to hold me at arm’s length, “was worth waiting for it to be someone like you.”

  My teeth sank into my lip. My gaze dropped, but a tiny smile found its way to my face.

  “Thank you.”

  “Does this mean you’re gonna go with Lucien and Vasco to beat the Fiend Lord?” Chaucer’s excited voice rose to shout. He clutched my hand in his, body trembling and feet bouncing.

  “Chaucer!” Louise joined us, ruffling her son’s hair and drawing him away from me. She offered me an apologetic smile, but in her shallow breaths and pleading gaze I saw the boy’s feelings reflected. “Don’t mind him, Celeste. We — We agree with Demi. The choice is yours to make. No one else.”

  “And I cannot thank you all enough for that.” I said, accepting the unspoken hug she was dying to offer. There was a pang nestled within her chest, one I felt in Charles, but not in the boy. The waiting, the unknowing, was a thorny root, bruising their hearts. No magic could heal such a wound. “But, you needn’t be concerned.”

  I kneeled down by Chaucer. “Tonight, I plan to tell Lucien and Vasco my decision.”

  He gasped and beamed back at me. His heart on his sleeve, hopeful curiosity in his eyes. I answered his question not with words, but a tilt of my head and a smile. The little boy squealed. His father held his mother, and they both wept.

  The root, once clutching their hearts, unraveled and disappeared.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon going through each of Charles’ crops. First, I showed him how to apply the right amount of Tears. Then, I watched him do the rest. Each step along the way, we tested and tasted the result. All the while, Chaucer chased after us, asking a deluge of questions to which I had no answers, only hopeful “Maybe’s.”

  When at last we finished, they walked me to the threshold of their farm. Charles stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

  “Celeste, come to the Sundrop tonight. If you’re to be leaving, it’s only fair we give you a proper send-off”

  “Yeah! A Hero’s send-off! No, a Healer’s send-off! No, no wait! A Promised Healer’s send-off!” Chaucer said, taking my hand once more. His enthusiasm, more infectious than any disease, overwhelmed my misgivings with one look at his grinning face.

  I sighed. “Well…how can I say no to such a kind offer?” A giggle broke through my attempt at stoic reluctance, and I returned the little boy’s grin. “Then, I’ll look forward to seeing you all tonight.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I left for home. Behind me, I could hear Chaucer racing to the square, calling out to everyone who would listen about the Promised Healer’s send-off at the tavern tonight.

  ***

  That evening, the hamlet gathered at the reconstructed Emerald Sundrop to bid farewell to the Promised Healer and the Heroes who would venture North, into the Dreadlands, to put an end to the Fiend Lord and free Willowhaven from the spreading ruin. With no recent travelers, the sixteen of us were seated comfortably in the cozy common room.

  Leon and Sara had spent the afternoon preparing a feast with Charles and Louise’s new harvest, the noble offering of their livestock, a fat hog and two chickens, and an ironstag that Hannah had hunted that day. Ale flowed like water for those old enough to partake it — no one said a word to chastise them when Chaucer and Elisabeth split a quarter-full mug.

  Laughter, singing, and crying helped to pass the time, but as darkness fell and the lamps were lit, I felt a growing trepidation. Try as I might to enjoy the meal — and it truly was the best I’d ever had — I couldn’t ignore the gnawing panic I felt knowing that it may be the last I ever tasted. So, I buried my thoughts as I sought the huntswoman, whose bruises from the hunt had been bothering me all evening.

  “Lady Hannah.” I said, bowing my head in greeting.

  She looked up from her mug and sprung to her feet, steadying her balance with a firm hand on my shoulder. Her cheeks were rosy, framing a lopsided smile that smelled of ale.

  “Lady? Come off it, Lady Healer,” she said with a grin and a giggle. “Why do you insist on being so formal? You know I hate it, Celeste.” She dropped back into her seat and waved her hand at the bench beside her. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

  Despite my misgivings, I couldn’t help but laugh and accept the seat and her offered arm. My hands sought the bruise on her shoulder.

  “You know me too well.” My fingers glowed, and magic spilled onto her skin. “Would you have simply suffered in silence had I not approached you?”

  “Leon! Another round!” Hannah called to the passing tavern keep. She turned to me with another grin and leaned closer. “Maybe I would. Maybe I like feeling the sting of a hunt well fought, hm? You,” she pointed at me with a dizzy finger, “it bothers you more than it does me. I barely noticed.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I smirked and shook my head. “I feel only what you do, Hannah. When you wince, I wince. If you intend to torment me, you know better ways. If you’ve run short, just ask Lucien. He can provide you an exhaustive list that doesn’t require you to be caught in the crossfire.”

  Hannah laughed, a loud, raucous laugh that drew attention to our table. She turned to accept a fresh mug from Leon with thanks, then tipped her head back and downed it. Purple ale trickled from the corners of her mouth, drawing lines through the dirt caked to her tanned face. When she finished, she sat the mug down with a loud smack.

  “A shame I won’t have the chance, eh? What with you gallivanting off into the dark to save our souls or however the story goes.” Hannah grasped my hand, still resting on her shoulder, and grinned. Sincere on a face that rarely strayed far from sardonic. “But, when you get back, I’ll take you up on that offer. Can’t pass on teasing the girl who saved the world, can I?”

  My smile wavered. My gaze drifted to the table.

  “I suppose not. You’re not one to miss your shot.” I felt her hold on my hand tighten and looked back. What I found was an unfamiliar softness in her eyes.

  “And you’re not one to let a wound fester. I’m sure you’ll run into no shortage of reckless fools like me while you’re out there.” She nodded toward the table where Lucien and Vasco sat. “Don’t let those louts keep you from doing what comes natural. If it takes you an extra day, a month, a year or ten, to see it done? Take it. Can’t have you worrying about everyone you passed by when you’re fighting the Fiend Lord, eh?”

  My smile returned. “I won’t. I’m not strong enough to leave well enough alone, and they’re not strong enough to stop me from meddling where I’m not wanted.”

  Hannah grinned and raised her mug in a silent toast. But our conversation was interrupted by a hush falling over the tavern. I turned to see Rosalie, the elder, standing from her seat.

  She was a woman just barely older than my mother — with fewer grays in her long sunny hair, as she loved to tease Mother about — given the title of elder by formality alone. Disputes were rare and easily settled; negotiations with the neighboring settlements were rarer still due to our size and location. But she was respected all the same, and when she spoke everyone was sure to listen.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt everyone. But as the day draws to an end, I know our festivities cannot last forever. We mustn’t rob our Heroes and Lady Healer of the last peaceful night's sleep they’ll know for the foreseeable future.” Rosalie sighed, and in that sigh showed a glimpse of her age. “How many years passed, how many lives lost, to reach this joyful moment? To be the generation that sees the light bloom within the darkness?”

  She turned to look at me with a tearful smile that shined as bright as her hair. “I had a hunch. I think we all did,” she added, gesturing to the room and a chorus of agreeing murmurs, “that we had something special in our Celeste. The day I helped bring you into the world, it was as if a breath I’d been holding my whole life was at last released.”

  I felt my throat tighten and looked up at the ceiling. Hannah’s hand touched my shoulder, but I kept my eyes raised, lest they spill over yet again. I was tired of crying, but as she continued, I knew it was inevitable.

  “Know that you’ve already made us proud, girl. We have been blessed to keep you as a secret from the rest of the world, but, alas, the day has come that we must share you. Know that you’re loved, not as the Promised Healer, but as Spring Hill’s daughter. Our Celeste, headstrong and stubborn, who refused to let even a splinter go untreated.” Rosalie laughed. She accepted a handkerchief from her son and dabbed her eyes. “After you and these brave boys bring an end to this eternal night, know that you can always come home to Spring Hill and we will welcome you with open arms.”

  A chorus of agreement and raised mugs rang out as Rosalie returned to her seat. Others followed suit, taking a stand to say their piece and wish me well. When the last one finished, I thanked them and excused myself, retreating from the common room to the kitchen.

  Once I was alone, my defenses came crashing down, and I crumpled to the floor. I drew my knees into my chest and buried my face in my arms, body shaking as I sobbed. Their kind words, their fond memories, their love, their hope, their expectations.

  It all felt too great to bear. After all the time spent running from reality, I could no longer hide from it. I was the Promised Healer. In the morning, I would leave with Lucien and Vasco to venture into the Dreadlands and slay the Fiend Lord.

  And if I failed, the world’s last spark of hope would be snuffed out.

  Would I be forced to watch their faith die from the other side? To see the love and admiration turn to ash; to listen to their songs of praise become screams of pain and fear?

  The thought knotted in my gut and squeezed until my tears flowed freely. Like gnarled, thorny branches, it crawled into my chest and lashed at my heart. A pain more than my own — the collective suffering that had come before my birth, and that which would follow should I fail — pressed down on me until I felt I might shatter.

  “Oh, Celeste…” Mother’s voice stirred me from my thoughts.

  I looked up at her, standing at the doorway. There was a longing in her eyes, but her feet remained firmly in place. My lips screwed shut to hold back a whimper, my unspoken plea reaching her without words.

  The distance between us vanished. She dropped to her knees and held me as I cried. Her fingers threaded through my hair as they had when I was a girl, her tender touch reaching me even in the depths of my despair. I clung to her, as if I could lose myself in her embrace, and she to me, as if her arms could shield me from what lay beyond daybreak.

  “I think…” She spoke in a mere ghost of a whisper. “I always knew. And I’m sorry for not preparing you better.” She placed a finger on my lips to silence any retort. “You truly were a miracle, Celeste. I never knew a man after Giulio died, never so much as looked at one I wasn’t treating for some rash or illness. And yet…here you are.” She sighed and laid her head on mine.

  “You were a strange, wonderful child. You never cried, never needed to be changed or cleaned, though you did so love baths,” she said with a laugh. “You learned to speak and walk before your first Winter. Never sick, never injured, never had so much as had a sniffle. Oh, Titania, I should have known. Should have realized that I knew.”

  Mother pulled away and tilted my chin up. Then, she tucked my hair behind my long, inhuman, pointed ears. “I should have never hid the magical things about you. Oh, how I longed to sing them to the world, but I just…wanted a normal childhood for you.”

  “I know.” I nodded and laid my head against her chest. “And I am grateful for it. For everything you’ve done, Mother.”

  “I love you, Celeste. No matter what happens. I will always love you.”

  I bit my lip. The last of my tears fell. “I love you, too.”

  ***

  “— and so we will travel the Dreadlands! Fight through the Fellbeasts and his Fiends! And at last, when we stand before him, that great malevolence, the Fiend Lord —”

  As Mother and I returned to the common room, we caught the tail end of a rousing speech by Lucien. The fiery Hero was standing atop a table at the center of the crowd. He turned and spotted us. His crooked smile burst into a grin, and he held his hand out to me.

  “Come, Celeste! I will be your Spear that pierces any shield, and Vasco, your Shield that stops any spear!” He laughed and hopped down from the table. “I know how you hate to be told how a story ends. So let us write an ending all our own and bring this tragic tale to a close!”

  Beside him, Vasco rose to his feet and clapped a hand on Lucien’s shoulder. He looked me in the eye and raised his fist, its faint cobalt glow an unspoken promise.

  I felt Mother’s hand on my back, giving me the encouragement I needed to step forward and take Lucien’s hand. With a deep breath, I breathed out my worries and placed my trust in them. “So long as I have you both by my side, I’ve nothing to fear. We will see it done.”

  This time when they clapped and cheered, I felt a lightness in my chest. If I was a promise made, I would be a promise kept.

  ***

  If ours was a story told as it was meant to, then the night should have ended there. Filled with determination to see our task to its completion, the love of our friends and families the wind in our sails that would carry us forward. We would go to bed that night, full of restless energy, and wake at daybreak to set out on our journey.

  But that was not to be our story.

  When the last drop of ale was downed and the last lantern snuffed, we left the Emerald Sundrop. As I stepped into the cool night air, the breath was knocked from my lungs by a wall of absolute suffering, radiating hot and furious as the scorching Summer sun. My legs grew weak, and I stumbled, saved from falling by Vasco’s quick hands catching my shoulders.

  “Too much to drink, Sister?” He laughed. “Careful now. We can’t have you making a fool of yourself in the wake of your own celebration.”

  But it was not the ale — Leon had yet to brew one strong enough to so much as fog my brain — that knocked my feet from beneath me. It was a realization of what I had forgotten. A challenge delivered. A challenge, it seemed, accepted.

  Standing at the center of the square, beside the tallest Serpent oak, was the shadow from my dream. No longer obscured by the illusory fog, I could see him clearly in the pale moonlight. Taller than any man should be, his bare, bronze torso peppered with the blackened scars of a thousand weapons. Dark, spiked pauldrons rested on his broad shoulders, framing his chiseled face, the sickly green of his eyes burning within ink black sclera. Twin horns rose from his forehead, proceeding a slicked back mane of copper hair.

  He raised a massive hand, his long fingers resembling obsidian razors, his forearm covered with matching scales, and plucked a Snakebite plum from the tree’s branches. The shadow held the fruit between two fingers and brought it to his face. He opened his mouth, revealing sharp fangs where teeth should be, and bit it in half with a single bite. The juice hissed and boiled, copper smoke rising from his lips and filling the air with the scent of burned ash.

  He took another bite, devouring the rest of the plum. Then he turned, skin melting and mending before our eyes, to look directly at me. I found myself falling into his gaze, and the scorching pain became unbearable, driving me to my knees. My heart froze in my chest when I noticed the one detail I’d ignored: his ears, long and pointed, blackened at their tips.

  “You summoned me, and I have answered the call.” He spoke in a rumbling growl, as if hatred itself could speak. His claw dropped to his side, thin strips of smoke still rising from his fingers. The shadow took a step forward. The weight of his heavy boot, matching his scaled arms, shook the whole of Spring Hill.

  “Y-You…you are…” Words failed me. I had known the shadow to be some malevolent force from our brief encounter. But seeing him in the waking world, my very soul knew him. The terror in knowing was a weight greater than all the expectations and worries of my calling.

  “I am.” Another step; another quake. “That blackest night who swallows the Sun. The carnage and the wrath of this world’s end.” He gazed down at me. “Speak my name.”

  “Y-you’re…you’re th-the…”

  Vasco spoke in my stead, finding within him impossible courage. “You’re the Fiend Lord.”

  A silver shine lit up the night, a spear forming in Lucien’s hands. All the playful arrogance and the dizzying alcohol gone from his fierce glare. For the first time, I saw a snarl on his ever-smiling face.

  “You came for her, didn’t you?” He spat, ?venom dripping from every word.

  But the Fiend Lord paid them no mind. His eyes bore into mine. When he spoke, it was for my ears alone. “Have you succeeded in your endeavor? Found the answer you sought within the petals of that flower? Or is there yet regret that tethers you to this place?”

  “What’s he talking about, Celeste?” Vasco asked, his arms alight with magic. He stepped between the Fiend Lord and me, but my head tilted as if drawn to maintain eye contact.

  “I…I did…” I said, feeling a flicker of courage. A flicker that was doused by his smile.

  “Excellent. Then you will come with me, Dream Walker.” The Fiend Lord held out his hand, uncurling his long, bladed fingers. “Or I will reduce this place you so cherish to ash.”

  “Wh-what?”

  As the question fell from my lips, the wind beside me cracked, the ground splitting where Lucien once stood. He crossed the distance in the blink of an eye, his single, perfect strike unleashing a tempest that blew apart the repaired stalls and ripped the Serpent oak from the ground. A silver flash crashed into the Fiend Lord’s unguarded chest. But instead of a finishing blow, the blade came to an abrupt halt, failing to break the skin.

  The Fiend Lord didn’t look away from me. But his arm swung faster than even Lucien could perceive, striking him across the face and sending him flying, the air whistling as he crashed through earth, stone, and wood as if it were made of tissue.

  “Lucien!” Vasco sprang into action next, his fist hitting the shadow in the sternum with thunderous force. Force that shattered the ground, but failed to budge the towering Fiend.

  The Fiend Lord’s heavy fist came down, striking a cobalt glow and releasing a blinding spark. Vasco’s body lit up with blistering light, and his other fist flew like a meteor.

  I watched, mouth agape, as the blow landed on the monster’s cheek and his head gently tilted. I screamed when his fist crashed into Vasco’s chest, knocking him to his knees. Then I watched helplessly as he grabbed my brother’s hair, pulled his head back, and held a claw to his throat.

  All the while, his gaze on me remained unbroken.

  A silver streak came rocketing out of the sky, striking the Fiend Lord’s shoulder. Half of Lucien’s face was sliced open, his left eye blank and bloodied. All of his rage and power, and yet the Fiend Lord remained unmoved.

  “Wait!” I choked out through the pain crushing my chest and blinding me. With all my strength, I stumbled to my feet and held out my hand. “Just wait! Please! I — I’ll go with you, just don’t harm them any more!”

  Lucien dropped to the ground and prepared another charge. “We won’t let you take her!”

  I threw myself in front of him, arms outstretched, and shook my head.

  “No! No, please, Lucien! Please! If you keep this up, he’s going to kill you both!” I turned to face the Fiend Lord and rallied my courage for one last request. “Please, good sir. L-Let me treat their injuries before we depart. I can’t — I can’t just leave them to suffer!”

  The monster’s eyes burned into my own. For a moment, I felt a scorching ache radiate from within him. But it soon passed, and he threw my brother to the ground.

  “Very well. Be swift, else I’ll turn my wrath upon the earth itself and leave not a blade of grass behind.”

  Under the watchful eye of the Fiend Lord, I rushed to my brother’s side and laid my hands upon him. His shattered ribs released their hold on his lungs and heart, the damaged organs stitched back together in a soothing glow. Feeling Lucien near, I turned and reached for him, laying my hand on his face and mending it anew.

  “You can’t do this, Celeste…” He spoke in a haunted voice.

  Vasco, able to breathe once more, grabbed my shoulders. “I can’t let you! I won’t let you! Sister, don’t throw your life away, we still have…I just…”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling their pain abated and forced a smile to my face.

  “Worry not. I’ve no intention of dying.” I felt the Fiend Lord’s presence barreling down on me and knew my time had run out. But, there was one thing more I needed to do. “Just…just one last thing, please, good sir.”

  I waited to hear his disapproval. But it never came, so I rose to my feet and rushed to my mother, throwing my arms around her. I kissed her cheek; my lips lingered by her ear. “Memorize my notes. Burn them when you do.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but I shook my head and brought a finger to my lips.

  “I’ll be fine. So, please…”

  Mother bit back helpless tears and nodded.

  I smiled one last time. Then, I returned to the Fiend Lord. Standing before him, I was awestruck by how small I was next to him. “I apologize for making you wait, good sir. I am ready now.”

  No sooner had my words been spoken, two great, obsidian wings burst from his back. Their scales rejected the light of the moon, just as the fellblood did. He held out his hand, and this time I took it.

  I had only a moment to glance back, my eyes meeting Vasco’s, before the monster swept me into his powerful arms, carrying me as if I were weightless. With a single flap of his wings, we soared into the sky and pierced the clouds. With another, we disappeared over the horizon.

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