Many years ago ferocious yet mystical beasts ravaged the land. They ruled the sky and scorched the land with their incinerating breath. They protected their dank, dark homes with their large jagged teeth, powerful jaws, and eviscerating talons. Their scintillating scales never failed to deflect man’s arrows and repel man’s clubs. These were the dragons: man’s greatest enemy. For centuries the dragons terrorized mankind.  There wasn’t anything they felt they could do.  No one knew where they came from or why, but a dragon in the sky was always a bad omen.  Many would make many sacrifices to these creatures for safety of they’re homes.  This usually appeased dragons, but many dragons proved too greedy and demanded more than many could give. This started a revolution.
In rebellion man developed methods of slaying these dragons. This soon became a high paying profession. Men began to fight back against these creatures. There were many causalities, many more for the men than the dragons. Women and children were torn apart by husbands and fathers who desired the promising riches the title ‘Dragon Slayer’ would offer. The Dragons watched, amused, how many men sold and devoted their lives to slaying them, the dragons; gods of the sky. As men developed methods to kill these majestic beings, so were the dragons plotting counter measures. Soon a bloody war broke out between man and these mythical beasts.
In the farthest depths of the mountains, in the deepest, darkest caves, some dragons murmured. They did not wish to be part of this war. As there are pacifists among man, there were among the dragons. Many dragons kept to themselves, seldom communicating with any other dragons outside their domain. This was one thing that the humans had over the dragons; society. They held councils and had armies. This was what eventually broke the tide.
Over a space of 100 or so years, the attack on the humans ceased and Dragons no longer ruled the skies. They no longer scorched the villages and plundered their riches. No longer did the dragons terrorize peasants and noblemen alike. No longer did anyone need dragon slayers. This caused great depression among those who had sworn their lives to slaying the dragons who now seemed only a fairytale.
In desperation many seasoned dragon slayers searched the mountains for dragons. This was the start of a new outbreak, when the peaceful dragons who had remained pacifist all of these years, were discovered and hunted. Some began fighting back, justifying the people’s need for dragon slayers again. A revolution began and dragon slayers became once again well employed and on high demand.
There many tales told of this time, the day of dragons and knights. However there is on tale that has long been forgotten or ridiculed: the tale of Lykhara. Lykhara was a young maiden who was the daughter of a mighty Dragon Slayer, Sir Hureth. Lykhara lived in a mighty palace, for her father was the King’s personal Dragon Slayer. There are many tales told of this mighty man, standing tall with a great pike twice his size. His daughter had a reputation of being a fair and graceful beauty, with a kind disposition. However, unlike many maidens her age, she was not betrothed. Her father was hard to impress, and only wanted the best for his precious daughter, his only child.
Lykhara was a slight tomboy. She usually polished her father’s armour, and maintained his weapons. She liked to spar and fence with her father, she too, wanted to be a slayer just like her father. The thought was unaccepted by the King and many of his subjects, but her father felt confidence in her. So he trained her every night how to fight man, and then slowly taught her methods on how to slay dragons. Lykhara, having a sensitive and kind disposition, felt deep inside she really could never kill anyone or anything. However she felt she could kill the ferocious beasts that destroyed their land and made off with their cattle. She kept this to herself, trying to have a lady like exterior to the public, and a strong tomboy exterior around her father. She felt as though no one truly knew her deep down inside, even herself.
Near the end of Lykhara’s adolescence many slayers stopped returning from the mountains. This caused her unease, as she feared her father would soon, too, go missing... such unrest that she couldn’t help but confront her father and beg him not to leave.  She slipped into his room as he was putting on his armor, which in itself resembled the scales of the mighty dragons.
“Father, you can’t leave!” she protested loud and clear.  He looked up from adjusting his gauntlets and gave her a stern expression.
“Lykhara, knock next time you mean to make such a rude intrusion and thoughtless plea,” he snapped at her.  Lykhara shook her head, playing with her auburn tresses. She looked at him with moist, pleading eyes.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t been able to sleep!  I had to get it out! Father, I don’t want you to go.  I know you are the King’s best… but I… but I am scared!  What will I do if you don’t return?” she spoke, her voice quivering with her fears and love for her father. Hureth let his stern expression wash away and gave his darling daughter a more gentle expression.
“This is my line of duty, Lykhara.  It’s best to destroy them before they come to us. So I must venture deep into the mountains.  Obviously there are some hiding there if all these slayers are going missing.  I’m not just searching for a dragon, but for answers. They were some of the best men and good friends of mine, Lykhara. I owe it to them.  And most of all, would you want to be the daughter of a coward?” he asked.  Lykhara dared not interrupt him though she really wanted to.  She didn’t want him to reason with her because he always won.  However, she knew better than to disrespect her father by interrupting.
“No… I suppose not, father.  I want a father I can be proud of, but I’d much rather a father to be proud of that is there for me,” she replied slowly, looking away. He reached out an armored hand and lifted her chin gently.
“I’ll return safely, kitten, don’t worry.  I’m the best there is, and no dragon can best me.  I’ve killed 23 in my time, where most dragon slayers have only killed 4 or 5 in their short lives.  Have more faith in your old man,” he spoke gently. Lykhara looked up at him and then wrapped her arms around his neck, not minding the feel of the cold metal.
“Alright Father… I’ll have more faith in you!” she said slowly as she kissed his bristly cheek.  He smiled warmly.
“Alright then, kitten, go to bed and dream of my return. I’m leaving early next morning, wait for me on our special hill,” he said as she withdrew her embrace.  She nodded obediently, said she loved him, and returned to her sleeping quarters.
Lykhara waited patiently every day at the hill she spent many special moments with her father.  Every day she grew more and more worried, and more and more drained.  She just dragged around the castle and couldn’t concentrate on her lessons.  It was soon announced that her father, Hureth, was officially proclaimed dead.  They held a memorial in his honor, but Lykhara refused to attend. She was heart broken over a broken promise.
Lykhara wanted to step forward and take her father’s place.  She refused to believe her father was beaten.  However, she wanted to find him, either dead or alive, and get revenge.  She was trained to slay dragons and would do it to honor her father.  However, Lykhara knew the Kingdom was not yet ready for a female slayer.  She herself wasn’t certain she was ready, feeling she’d likely lose and end up as a pile of bones in some dragon’s lair.
Lykhara began to get over the disappearance of her father on the outside.  However, still deep inside she was hurting.  She served the king in any way she could and usually graced balls and feasts they held.  She was well respected and highly regarded and often sought after by men now her father was gone.  However she would have no part of it, sickened at the tactlessness of the attitude of many men.  She resorted to many unscheduled rides on her faithful mare, Whisper.  Whisper, she felt, was her only true companion left. She often took the time to speak her heart out to Whisper, who’d quietly listen and whisper softly in her ear the language of horses Lykhara wished she could understand.
During one evening ride, with her mare Whisper, she ventured into the King’s forest.  No man but the king and his court were allowed to hunt game there or ride there.  Lykhara was considered part of his court an therefor fled freely into the forest. She’d done it many times and had peaceful rides, but not this evening. Whisper let out a high, shrill whistle of fright.  Before Lykhara could identify what frightened her usually calm companion she reared up.  Lykhara tried to hold on, but lost her grip and was thrown from her warm back.  She took a tumble and roll in the dead leaves and twigs that carpeted the forest floor. When Lykhara looked up, she was surprised to find the form of an injured man lying against a tree.
Lykhara was perplexed.  She looked over at the young man as she slowly rose to her feet.  He had a beautiful shoulder length of golden hair, framing his serene face of fine, sharp features. He was loosely wrapped in a decent, light blue robe.  It slid down his shoulder, exposing something of a nasty wound that bled onto his nice robe. Lykhara carefully and quietly walked to the young man whom she guessed was no older than herself.  She knelt down, not daring to touch him but see if he were alive. She fell, back startled as suddenly his eyes opened, revealing two, pale golden eyes.  She was so intrigued by his rare and beautiful eyes that she could do nothing but stare.  She did not know how long she was captured in his silent, expressionless stare.
The silence was broken by footsteps. Lykhara turned quick to see who was approaching. Sure enough she saw a man wearing very shabby attire.  His tunic, covered in badly sewn on patches, seemed to be made out of the same material as the nice light blue robe and most likely made to match it. It gave him a very peasant-like appearance and did not impress well upon Lykhara. The man was perhaps middle aged with scruffy brown hair and had a long gnarly wooden staff.
“You there! What are you doing here?” the older man demanded of Lykhara. Lykhara, not used to such demands made by shabby peasants, stood up straight.
“I was out for my evening ride in my liege’s forest. What are YOU doing here? This is private property!” she demanded, glancing at the strange lad, then the middle aged shabby man. The man took a slight bow, intricately letting his arms flowing to reveal his arm span, fingers delicately spreading out.
“I’m a humble travelling Magician and did not know this was private property of your liege. Either way, I do not care for boundaries. This here is…. my apprentice. Now I’d like to ask what you were doing to my apprentice?” he asked, moving to the injured lad’s side. Lykhara frowned, being wrongly accused by a stranger.
“I’ve done nothing. I was just looking… to see if he was alright.” She said, in a less rigid tone as she had previously used. The self-proclaimed magician nodded, kneeling to the younger man.
“Aye. Fine then. I was worried people of your likes would just arrest or kick him off of your precious land despite his injuries, then further charge him for bleeding on the King’s soil,” The magician said with a  tone dripping with resentment for the high class citizens and King’s men. Lykhara looked down. She knew her father or any of the Kings men or heirs would have… but that seemed so cruel to her.
“No. However, an injured man shouldn’t be trespassing, t’would only make his situation worse.” She said trying not to sound too soft. Her father would have disapproved, being the man of duty that he was. The magician shook his head slowly, opening his mouth to say something, but Lykhara cut him off. “What is your name, magician?”
“Roldigan. And this here is… uh…” he paused, looking at the lad. “This here, my apprentice, is Dra… um Draegus. He’s from the mountains.” The magician said, looking at his apprentice the whole time.
“Draegus? From the mountains? Where all of the dragon slayers venture looking for dragons?” she asked, also looking at Draegus the whole time.
“Indeed, m’lady. A small isolated abode within the mountains, unbothered by dragons. Too small and humble to bother with really,” the magician said. Lykhara raised an eyebrow looking at ‘Draegus’.
“Can he not talk for himself?” she asked in a rigid tone. The magician immediately grew quiet, withdrawing. She knelt down beside Draegus again. “Draegus? Do you see many slayers pass your home?”
Draegus nodded slowly. “Yes.” He replied quietly, not looking at her. Lykhara nodded.
“How about a slayer names Sir Hureth? Has he passed your way?” she asked excitedly. Maybe he could tell her what had happened to her father. However, she also prepared herself for the worse. Draegus closed his eyes tight and seemed to shrink within himself, cringing, grimacing. Roldigan knelt also beside him.
“M’lady, if you could direct us towards the nearest tavern… we would be grateful. His wounds need dressing and I have run out of the right supplies to aid him.” The Magician said quickly, trying to change the subject. Lykhara nodded. This Draegus may be of use to her, if he truly lives in the mountains. He could possibly be a guide. This in mind, she courteously offered her horse to Draegus. She whistled for her horse who slowly and nervously approached them.  She stroked her neck and soothed Whisper until she seemed calm.  However, Whisper bolted again when Draegus came near.  He said quietly that he would walk.
While they walked Whisper was very nervous and uneasy. Lykhara was constantly talking soothingly in her ear so that she would not try to bolt again. It seemed to strange for her well-trained horse to be afraid of some mountain dwelling peasant. Lykhara wondered if there was something Roldigan was not telling her about Draegus.
Lykhara escorted them to the town in silence. Draegus seemed to suddenly burst into pain at the mention of her father, and that seemed suspicious. She wanted to get to the bottom of these two outlanders. She could tell they were outlanders. No one had eyes like Draegus and magicians were seldom in this country. Most magicians came from distant lands; none ever learned to be a magician anywhere near here. Magicians usually kept their origins shrouded in mystery. Again, perhaps that is another mystery she would like to try and solve.
“Well, that is the Tavern of the Rising Moon. However, why don’t you come to the castle as my personal guests? I’ve never seen a Magician perform before, just scoundrels and jugglers. Have you learned any magic from your master, Draegus?” she asked. Draegus shook his head.
“No…” he replied. His voice was so rich and gentle. It almost made her wish he talked more just to hear his beautiful voice. Draegus’ voice was so soothing and charismatic despite it being so quiet. Lykhara found him odd. He hadn’t commented on her like most men, nor had he talked down to her, like most men. He seemed so distant most of the time. The reason could be that he was suffering illness from his wound. He was strikingly pale she came to notice.
“Why… I’m not certain we would be wanted at the castle with all due respect, m’lady,” Roldigan replied, looking a bit panicked.
“Something wrong with the castle, magician?” Lykhara questioned sharply. These two seemed all the more suspicious the more time she spent with them. Draegus did not behave like any other young man and the Magician talked too much for Draegus.  She wondered why Draegus did not object to having someone talk for him.  Again she pondered perhaps this is only because he is injured.  She did, however, find the Magician’s attempts to avoid the castle strange.
“Well, we are just lowly scum of the earth. We needn’t disgrace your king with out presence…” Roldigan said quickly, tapping his fingers together.
“Magicians being scum of the Earth? Oh no, they are quite the novelty around here… unless you are just a fraud trying to trick a seemingly gullible lady. Now, if you don’t mind, why don’t you demonstrate your power, magician?” Lykhara accused. Roldigan cleared his throat and took a step away.
“Yes, m’lady, right away.” He said and held out his hand. He hovered an open palm over his other hand then closed it. When he opened his hand again, there, suspended above his hand, was a flame. It was flickering, until he closed his hand again. Lykhara nodded slowly.
“Is that all you can do?” she asked critically.
“Alright… My lady, could you hand my your silk scarf?” he asked. She hesitated, then handed over her white silk scarf. He took it, slowly pushing it into one hand. Making some quick gestures, he then released it and instead of a scarf, a dove flew from his hands. It landed on Lykhara’s shoulder. She smiled, very impressed.
“Impressive. I don’t see why our King wouldn’t mind an audience with you. We have many supplies for dressing wounds and some of the best doctors. Why not take my invitation?” Lykhara insisted. Roldigan frowned, then bowed.
“If you insist… we just wouldn’t want to embarrass you with our outlander customs and lack of fine etiquette.” Roldigan explained while bowing. He stood up again. “Lead the way.”

Lykhara brought them to the castle where Roldigan performed for the King. He was a hit and was offered finer clothes and feasted at banquettes.  Roldigan seemed to soon make himself comfortable with the lifestyle.  Nonetheless, Roldigan always kept a close eye on Draegus and refused to let anyone else dress his wounds. Lykhara also kept a close watch on Draegus, finding him mysterious in many ways. He usually slipped out to the courtyard to just stare at the sky for hours. This behavior was peculiar to her, but she supposed he was afraid of dragons.
One night Lykhara slipped into the courtyard with him.  She stood near him, watching his face.  It was very fine and still quite pale.  He looked lost, alone, and distant as he stared at the sky.  Lykhara sighed and walked up to him.
“Draegus…” she said quietly.  He didn’t move and just made a slight ‘hm?’ sound in acknowledgement of her. She gave him a warm, reassuring smile. “You don’t need to worry about dragons.  They’re mostly dead or hide deep in the mountains.  They can’t hurt you here,” she said, trying to offer him some comfort.  He glanced at her briefly, with a cold stare, then looked back up at the sky, saying nothing.
“Draegus… it is dragons you are afraid of… right?” she asked, feeling a little embarrassed.  He didn’t even look at her again this time as he responded to her.
“No,” he said coldly.  Draegus pivoted on his heel and left the courtyard.  Lykhara stood there embarrassed and hurt.  She only wanted to comfort and reassure him.  He came off so cold to her.  She felt as if she’d offended him in some way and wondered what she had done or said wrong.  She just stood there in the cool evening, under the blossoming lemon tree. She looked up at them, finding it appropriate he spend so much time under this tree.  Like him, the blossoms were beautiful, but she felt he was ripening into a sour fruit.
Lykhara observed Roldigan and Draegus for many months, trying hard to unfold them. Roldigan seemed to adapt to a busy life in the castle, leaving Draegus on his own often. He was ignored or looked down on by most of the noblemen, slayers, and knights. Women talked about him often, but seldom to him. He was quite the attraction with his gentle voice, golden hair, young features, and absorbing golden eyes. They seemed almost eerie. At times Lykhara wondered if he saw things other people couldn’t. The way he looked at things and observed things seemed so different. He had amazing vision, and could detect the slightest movement. With his sight, finding a needle in a haystack would be a breeze she imagined. The more she tried to unfurl his flag of mysteries, the more began to form and she felt she was getting no where.
Lykhara not only was constantly trying to solve Draegus, she also was beginning to fall for him. The mystery enraptured her, and his gentle voice seduced her. He seemed to want nothing to do with her, or any female. He seemed so withdrawn and yet so distant from himself. More and more Lykhara began to wonder who would have injured such a gentle man. Lykhara was told by one of the maids that his wounds were of no beast.  They were of a man-made weapon. Lykhara couldn’t imagine how he got such a dreadful wound.
Lykhara began to become discouraged. She finally decided to have a chat with Roldigan to get some answers. Coming to his quarters after hours she knocked on the door forcefully. “Roldigan, I’m coming in so you’d better be decently dressed!” she said loud and clear. There was a shuffle and his voice carrying through the door, inviting her in.
Lykhara walked in. He was wearing a fine robe and stood by the window, a display of candles and interesting figures about his room. Jars filled with many ingredients to intriguing concoctions. However, this wasn’t what interested her anymore. “Roldigan I demand some answers!”
“Whatever are you talking about? I’ve done nothing!” he said in his defense, raising his hands in surrender. She shook her head.
“I want to know about Draegus! I don’t know any more about him than the very day I found him wounded in the woods! All he does is star at the night sky or hunts! Alone! I feel like I know even less of him because more mysteries continue to surface! Why are his eyes golden? Why is he so cold solitary yet so gentle? Why isn’t he interested in anything here? The feasts? Balls? Group hunting? Games? The women? He doesn’t seem to enjoy anything or anyone’s company! You say he is your apprentice but he hasn’t learned a single spell or even a trick! Who is he, Roldigan? Is he really from the mountains? Is he really YOUR apprentice? Is Draegus even his real name!? What is he hiding?” Lykhara exploded with questions she had kept pent up for many months. Roldigan just seemed to shrink with every additional question almost to the point of cowering.
“M’lady, please, you torture me with this late night interrogation! Maybe you could ask me one question at a time and have mercy on me!” he exclaimed, wringing his hands. Lykhara took a few deep breaths to catch up that which she had lost in her outburst. She nodded slowly.
“Alright. Is he really your apprentice?” she asked. Roldigan shook his head slowly.
“No, m’lady, that was a cover to be honest with you. I am merely taking care of him until he adapts, or can go home safely. You see, the poor lad has had his family slaughtered brutally and unjust. His home in the mountains was invaded by men, and parents and siblings killed in most brutal ways. He himself sported a wound but fled. Of course you may be thinking perhaps his parents were criminals. Hard to be so if you’ve never left the safety of your own home. The reason I needed to cover him as my apprentice was to keep a low profile for the poor lad.  A magician travelling with a burden such as him is not highly thought of.” Roldigan explained with a spark of sincerity in his eyes. Lykhara quietly contemplated everything Roldigan had spoken to her. She suddenly felt bad as a paradigm shifted. She had all this time been assuming there was something terrible hidden here, but it turned out, he was just a victim of cruelty.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t have known! Why didn’t you tell the truth right away? It must be terrible to be attacked by such barbarians.” Lykhara said, frowning, feeling bad. Roldigan chuckled. He didn’t answer when she questioned why he was laughing, and just waved his hand.
“Is there anything else you wish to ask?” Roldigan said through chuckles. She felt a little offended and perplexed by the outbreak in laughter. She bit back the urge to demand further seeing as Roldigan had not intention to tell her what made him laugh so.
“Is Draegus his real name?” she asked, still fresh in her memory the way Roldigan stumbled and stuttered when asked about Draegus’ name. He seemed uncertain and the name seemed to come out of thin air.
“No. His name isn’t Draegus. However, I couldn’t pronounce his real name. I felt it would be easier if we went by a name people could pronounce. Draegus were the first syllables that came to mind,” Roldigan said without faltering. Not like the way he had when giving her Draegus’ name. Lykhara accepted the explanation.
“So he isn’t of our kind then? He is from a distant land?” she asked further. Roldigan shrugged.
“He claims to have lived in the mountains all of his life… as for his parents, they very well may have come from distant lands,” Roldigan responded, shrugging casually. Lykhara nodded slowly. He was convincing and she found no flaws in his answers. Still, she still felt suspicious and lost. Lykhara had never heard of Caucasian men with golden eyes. They also had a certain slant to them that looked abnormal. Perhaps he didn’t have pure blood? Roldigan put a hand over his mouth as he let out a loud and long yawn. Smacking his lips, he raised his eyebrows pleasantly and looked at Lykhara with a sleepy grin.
“Shall we continue this another time? I am quite tired.” He said. Lykhara nodded. She was pacified but not yet satisfied. However, she could not form the questions she wanted to ask.
“Good night, magician,” she said, nodding to him, and left his chambers. Lykhara looked in the direction of her room, then in the direction of the courtyard. Now to confirm everything Roldigan had told her. She walked with certainty and determination to the courtyard where she assumed Draegus would be. Sitting as he always did, still as a statue, looking up into the night sky, his eyes seeming to absorb the moonlight and almost glow. Lykhara wanted to hear Draegus’ story.
As Lykhara predicted, there was Draegus. He was seated under a blossoming lemon tree. The night was particularly warm. He sat there, deep in thought, staring at the moon as though he were watching some tragedy unfold before him. His eyes were distant and sad. Lykhara wondered if he was thinking about his family. It must be so sad to have your family murdered so heartlessly when all you wanted was to live peacefully, isolated, and unbothered by the world. Lykhara stood there quietly a moment or two. She couldn’t tell if he knew she was there. If he did, he made no attempt to acknowledge her.
“Draegus?” she tried to get his attention. Without looking at her, he calmly responded with a simple ‘yes’ in his gentle, quiet voice. Lykhara stepped further towards him. “What are you looking at?”
“The sky.” He replied somberly. Lykhara nodded, uncertain why she would ask something so obvious.
“You are always looking at the sky. What is it in the sky that interests you so much?” she asked, confident this was a question that would get a more satisfying reply. He continued to look at the sky in silence for a moment.
“…It makes me think of my family. It causes me to feel nostalgia… something I never imagined I’d feel among other things. I had a simple life, not complicated by abundance of feelings and sentiments,” he replied. Lykhara nodded, sadly. She’d never heard him say so much at once before, and his voice sounded grave and serious. She had almost expected a pained or mournful expression, but his lacked such expression. His voice always does.
“Oh? What happened to your family?” she asked. Now she was going to see if Roldigan told her the truth.
“They were killed.” He responded. Lykhara nodded, knowing that was probably all she could get out of him. Lykhara caught a glimpse of pain in his tone, but nothing more. She wondered how he managed to seem so cold and yet not at all cruel nor heartless. He seemed almost innocent sometimes.
“Yes, Roldigan told me people killed you for no reasons. They must have been brutal savages to do such an evil deed…” Lykhara stated, feeling sorry for Draegus. She lost her father to dragons, or so everyone assumed. No one ever found his body. Draegus finally looked over at Lykhara.
“Savages? Interesting you should say that. It was the King’s men who destroyed my family and stole all of my possessions.” Draegus said, looking back at the sky. His voice was smooth with only the slightest hint of conviction, hidden behind a dry tone dripping with entertainment at the irony. Lykhara’s eyes widened as she heard this shocking accusation.
“King’s men? They would never! The King’s men only protect the people and only slayers would go near the mountains! They only wish to kill dragons, not helpless humans!” she exclaimed, defending her people, and the sort of person her father was. Draegus shook his head, wearing a toothy grin. His fangs, which she’d never noticed before, seemed very pointed which gave his grin a sinister look.
“Lykhara, you didn’t want to hear that. I didn’t want to come to this castle. You probably don’t want to hear this. Your father, he who called himself Hureth, was the one who butchered my family. He was the one who injured me. He, in turn, was killed by my sister who was injured. She died shortly after.” Draegus said, looking to the sky again. Lykhara took a step back and gasped. Her father doing such evil was atrocious enough, but saying him, the mightiest man of the Kingdom, was slain by an injured girl? Lykhara almost choked, for this news was hard to swallow.
“You lie!” she exclaimed. Draegus looked over at her with his serene, golden eyes.
“I do not. It is the truth. Your father, unless it was another man named Hureth, stumbled across my peaceful abode in the mountains and charged in while we slept and killed everyone,” Draegus said quietly. Lykhara bit her lip. What was she to believe? This was impossible and could not be the truth.  But Draegus’ voice sounded to sincere.
“Draegus! I thought you were so gentle! Why would you hurt me so? All I want is to be your friend Draegus! Why?” she practically screamed in hysterics. Draegus seemed unmoved. He reached forward, then paused, withdrawing his hand.
“Because it is the truth. You would have asked sooner or later, and I would have had to tell you sooner or later. As much as I did not wish to. You’ve been kind to me, Lady Lykhara. Very kind. However, if you knew the entire truth… you wouldn’t have treated me so kindly,” Draegus spoke softly and gently. Lykhara broke out in sobs. She didn’t want to appear so shaken, so weak, so sensitive, but the tears kept on coming.
“What IS the truth, Draegus? What is your real name? Where do you come from? WHAT are you?” she yelped in between sobs. Draegus looked around, then sighed, hesitantly approaching her and putting his arms around her. It seemed odd to him, that he, Draegus or so he’s been come to be called, would be the one to try and comfort some high-class damsel. However, he didn’t need for her to make a scene. Perhaps he could at least hold her still to prevent her from doing something foolish.
“Things aren’t always what they seem. I’ve been living in Roldigan’s fabrications so long I fear I’ll soon forget who and what I am… only the sky can maintain my quickly fading memories,” he said to her, looking down at her. She looked up, becoming more entrapped in mystery.
“That doesn’t answer my questions!” she insisted, shaking her head and resting it against his chest. Draegus looked down at her, stepping back and letting her go, gently, so she would not fall, but to escape her attempt at closeness.
“Do you really want the answers?” Draegus asked. Lykhara instantly withdrew. Did she really want to know?  She was hurt by the answers he’d given her so far and was uncertain if she could take much more.  She started to feel some anger taint her tears.
“Fine then… keep your mysteries. Why do you hate me?” she accused. Draegus shook his head.
“I do not. Hate is a meaningless feeling.”
“Then why do you avoid me? You are all I can think about, the only person on my mind. You seduce me! Every movement you make. Your eyes! Your hair! Your silence! Your voice when you actually speak!” Lykhara admitted, pouring everything out.
“I am not like you nor anyone here. I also do not think you should get so attached to me for as soon as the opportunity arises, I will leave. I fear that if my mysteries are unfolded by anyone or anyone learns more of me than what I have willfully revealed, that opportunity will be a priority. So don’t get attached, Lykhara, it won’t end well…” Draegus said, putting his finger under her chin to lift her drooping head. Lykhara shook her head.
“What have you done that is so terrible?” she asked, almost frightened.  How many more dark secrets could he be hiding?  How many more hurtful truths could he speak?
“I was born…” he said coldly, turning to leave. Lykhara frowned. She poured her heart for the first time to a man and was turned away. She was denied, rejected. Lykhara felt overwhelmed and stormed out of the courtyard in tears, not even noticing her maid who stood watching. She stormed right past, only guiding herself to her room by sheer feel, barely even seeing anything, vision blurred from tears.

Lykhara was deeply shaken up by Draegus.  She could not get over him.  She couldn’t, however, forgive him for the slander he spilt out about her father.  Her father would never do such a cruel thing to innocent people.  She decided they must have been criminals or done something wrong.  But his whole family?  It seemed to harsh even for criminals. Or what of his claims that his injured sister killed her father? That didn’t seem believable either. She could not imagine Draegus being a liar though.  His voice was sincere and what would he gain by saying these lies?  Lykhara was hurt and confused since that night.
Lykhara couldn’t take it anymore.  She hopped onto Whisper and rode out to the woods where it all began.  Whisper treaded with as much confidence as ever.  She remembered how Whisper was spooked.  Lykhara never figured out what spooked her faithful mare.  Suddenly Draegus’ sharp teeth stuck out in her mind. What man would need such sharp teeth?  Was Draegus a vampire?  She shook her head, dismissing the foolish thought.  He’d seen him in sunlight and there were no mysterious murders or disappearances. Lykhara patted Whisper affectionately on the neck as she walked through the woods.
“Well then, girl, what is so scary about Draegus?  I had never seen you so spooked in your life.  Was it his sharp teeth?” she asked with a light chuckle, though deep down she could not bring any merriment or peace to her mind. Whisper shook her head in response and followed up the motion by flicking her ears. Lykhara smiled.
“You are always scared when he comes near you.  Horses are so smart and have great intuition about people.  Is he a bad person, Whisper?  Don’t worry, you can tell me…” Lykhara continued.  Whisper just swished her tail and made no response.
“Silent as always. Do not worry, dearest, I will not hold it against you,” Lykhara said with a sigh. Lykhara continued on, deep in thought.
Lykhara’s thoughts were interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.
“Excuse me… m’lady,” it said.  She turned to see a cloaked figure leaning heavily on a staff.  Though the man’s face was cast with shadows, a long white beard flowing form the darkness impressed upon her how old he was.
“Do you not know this is private property?” she demanded.  The man nodded slowly.
“I did not.  I apologize for trespassing.  However, did you see a dragon fly over your skies?” he asked slowly.  Lykhara shook her head slowly.
“No sir, dragons have not dared fly over our kingdom in ages,” she responded slowly, furrowing her brow at this awkward question.
“How strange.  I’ve been tracking an injured dragon up to these woods, but he seemed to have gotten away undetected somehow.  Must have been that meddling trickster…”  the man muttered.  Whisper pawed the ground uneasily as Lykhara stared long and hard at the man.
“Trickster?” she asked.  She wondered if any of this had to do with Roldigan and Draegus.
“Yes, a roguish fellow who tries to claim himself as a mighty magician,” the man sputtered.  Lykhara would have described Roldigan as roguish at one time or another.  Perhaps even still.
“Tell me, what is his name?  I may have encountered him,” Lykhara asked.  Perhaps now she could get some answers from Draegus or Roldigan if she learned something of their true natures.
“Roldigan,” the man replied.  Not once did he lift his hood and reveal his face.  She found this rude but didn’t say a word on the matter.  Him knowing Roldigan was much more intriguing.
“I have met Roldigan.  He is performing as the castle magician.  I would say he is a wonderful magician being able to summon fire and transform the nonliving into wonderful creatures,” Lykhara said to his defense.
“Bah!   That is merely petty tricks to true sorcery!” the man exclaimed.
“It impressed me… but what would he have to do with dragons?” Lykhara asked suspiciously.
“Dragons?  That, my dear, is none of your concern!” he snapped. Lykhara frowned.
“Allow me to escort you to the prison, then, for trespassing!” Lykhara said, raising her tone to one of authority.
“Don’t be bluffing with me, child.  I am, unlike Roldigan, a powerful sorcerer and crossing me is indeed quite dangerous.  Especially to a defenseless lass as yourself,” he said ominously, raising his staff. Within a flash of light, the man was gone out of sight. She blinked, unable to believe it.  What perplexed her more was what Roldigan would have to do with dragons?
Lykhara began to fit pieces together.  Draegus was found with Roldigan, wounded.  This man was tracking a wounded dragon.  Roldigan has something to do with this dragon one way or another.  No mention of Draegus ever came up in this brief conversation with the magician. Draegus scared her horse and has sharp teeth.  Dragons have very sharp teeth.  He’s got golden eyes, like some lizards and creatures she’d seen before.  More than ever, if he were a dragon, then her father’s attacking his family would make sense and be well justified.  The thought frightened Lykhara and seemed impossible, but she had to know.
Lykhara had to know if Draegus was a dragon. It made no sense and was just too far stretched, and yet, all the pieces fit together. This surreal puzzle he entrapped her in just needed one more piece to be complete: the truth. Forcing Whisper into a gallop she raced through the woods to get home. She had gone late and the stars were beginning to appear in the veil of colours that marked the evening’s sunset. Racing towards the castle so many thoughts raced through her mind. She felt sick that she had fallen for a dragon, the bane of the kingdom and her sworn enemy. However, Draegus wasn’t ferocious. He was just cold and unfeeling, but she could not deny he was also a gentle creature in his dealings. If he really were a dragon, was he really just there pretending, until he could exact his revenge? This made her heart race even faster, her thirst for answers more dramatic. She could feel the heartbeat of her loyal companion throb through to her legs. She couldn’t slow down now; she had to keep pace. She had to get there and get answers. If he were a threat, then she’d have to stop him… if she could.
Lykhara reached the stables, and left Whisper to the stable boy and ran to the entrance, racing through the cold, stony hallways. She could hear the beat of her heart echo off of those cold, unfeeling walls. Walls that reminded her of Draegus. Was he an enemy all along? The confusion burned within her bosom, she wanted to scream, but knew she had to save her breath for that final moment when everything would unravel to destruction or satisfaction.
At the other end of the hallway she heard her name being called. She saw one of the King’s men. She slowed her pace seeing him.
“Lykhara! There you are! We have been worried about your welfare! A great sorcerer came here before the king while you were gone, speaking ill of Roldigan. Roldigan, at the mention of this, fled from the King’s throne room. The sorcerer said Roldigan is responsible for so many slayers getting lost in the mountains, being some hermit whom layers the area with traps and terrible sorceries! Outraged, the King demanded him or his apprentice be brought back for questioning. Since then we’ve been searching his quarters and the rest of the castle for him or his apprentice. Neither has been found. Did you see either of them while you were out?” the man informed, asking Lykhara in a hurried tone. Lykhara’s eyes widened. She shook her head ‘no’. She was about to pass the man by, but he halted her.
“I wouldn’t go in there. Rumor is that Roldigan commands dragons. He may be very dangerous…” the man warned.
“I need to see this sorcerer. He may have answers that I need… and how do we know we can trust him?” she asked briskly and forced her way past. She ran to the throne room instantly. Sure enough, an old man with a long white beard and wonderful wine coloured robes was standing there talking to the king.
“Oh… it gets worse majesty! I sense the presence of a Dragon!” the sorcerer spoke. The King leaned forward, eyes wide, mouth agape.
“My best slayers are on journey! We aren’t prepared to deal with a dragon now! Where is it, Lokkingan?” the King demanded. Lykhara’s eyes widened and turned right around before fully entering, to head for the courtyard. Just as her feet took flight she heard the man reply. She had to find Draegus before someone else found him out.  She wanted the truth from him more than from Roldigan or this Lokkingan.
“He is within your Kingdom, Lord, even within the castle!” followed by excited shouts of how a dragon could possibly be in the castle without notice. Lykhara knew how. It was because he appeared as a man. She raced to the courtyard. It was a magnificent courtyard with gardens and hedges and fountains. The courtyard was large enough to fit a dragon rather comfortably.
Lykhara ran so fast that any sentries she encountered didn’t have time to stop her. She was determined, fuelled by adrenaline. She’d never felt like this before, never so terrified and thrilled. She no longer could feel her feet as they pounded on the hard stone floor, all she felt was warmth and her hair whipping against her face.
Lykhara burst into the courtyard. There were already men there, searching. She raced past them despite their protests. Lykhara burst to where that lemon tree grew. Sure enough, leaning against it was Draegus, and with him Roldigan. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She could see them, know they were talking. They seemed so far away and not a single step could take her to them in time. Roldigan was gesturing and chanting. Was it going to happen? Was he going to turn into a dragon and fly away? The second she pondered that there was an enchanting glow about Draegus.
Lykhara watched before her eyes this man grow in size, his skin becoming like gold, breaking out into scales. Great wings thrust from his shoulder blades while his face stretched into a narrow snout, set with beautiful slanted glowing eyes. His chest broadened and his hands converted to fierce talons.  A long, scintillating tail stretched out from his spine, spading at the very tip.  Soon he was a dragon, a sight always feared by townspeople and nobles alike. Lykhara saw it a different way. This was the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes upon. However, she didn’t stop in awe. She reached out in distress and called for him to wait, to come back. He didn’t seem to hear her. He just flew higher and higher, spiraling above the castle. He glistened like every star in the sky, like sunlight even! She could hear the men rushing behind her now, stopping in fear. What had they to fear? She could see all he wanted was to fly far from here. Fly far away from the people who despised him, man who would hunt him, and a foolish girl who fell in love with him. Lykhara cried out, dropping to her knees. Men crowded about her, encircling Roldigan. She felt lost in the chaos, as though she weren’t there. She watched as they arrested Roldigan and dragged him off screaming that he had done no wrong. Every sound echoed through her mind as she gazed up at the stars. He wasn’t there. Draegus was gone, and would never return. In despair, Lykhara collapsed.

Three days later Lykhara awoke from her despair trodden dreams.  She squinted at the sunlight filled room, her vision blurred with tears.  She felt a hand take hers gently and looked to the source of it.  The familiar face of one of her maids sat there, smiling gently.
“Lykhara… the spell has finally worn off.  We were concerned for you, Lykhara.  Ever since that traitor Roldigan cast that awful spell on you we could not awaken you.  Some of us worried you’d never wake up again and lay forever in slumber,” the maid said in a soft whisper. Lykhara felt confused.  A spell was cast on her?  Her memories of that fateful night began circling in her mind.
“Roldigan…? Roldi… ROLDIGAN?  Where is he!?” Lykhara demanded, coming to a realization it was not all just a dream.  The maid just squeezed her hand.
“Hush, child.  He was executed as he refused to lift his spell off of you. He even dared deny it…” she said soothingly.  Lykhara almost felt as though she were falling, though she could feel her mattress beneath her.
“Executed?” she exclaimed.  How could they execute Roldigan?  She knew no spell was cast on her.  She knew the only target of his casting was Draegus. Draegus, who she never will see or hear his gentle, cold voice again.
“Yes you have no need to worry.  I’ll go tell the King you are well and then get you some food…” the maid said.  She rose and gave Lykhara a bow and slipped out of the room.  Lykhara hugged herself, choking back tears.  Everyone was gone.  Her father, Roldigan, and Draegus were gone forever.  There were no answers left for her.
Lykhara sat up suddenly.  She got to her feet, throwing on a robe and crept out of her room.  She headed for Roldigan’s old room.  Sure enough there were sentries there.
“Lady Lykhara!  You are awake!” they exclaimed, giving her a very subtle bow.  She nodded to them, holding her robe shut with one hand.
“Do you know what happened to Roldigan’s belongings after his execution?  There was something I meant to question him about his dealing with dragons,” Lykhara said.  The men shook they’re heads.
“Sorry, m’lady, Lokkingan took most of that fraud’s possessions.  But if you wish to see what was left behind, go ahead.  Just don’t tell anyone we let you in…” they said, having been given strict orders not to let anyone enter.   Lykhara smiled, having always gained favor with the sentries.  She slipped in.  The room was almost entirely bare.  Nonetheless she searched every nook and cranny.  Finally, she found what she was looking for.  Roldigan’s journal.  Pleased she slipped out, thanked the sentries and ran back to her room before a servant with food arrived.
Lykhara read through Roldigan’s journal.  She spent many hours reading and seldom saw anyone.  She was drawn into his journal about the truth about dragons.  She learned about Draegus and his family whom Roldigan promised to protect.  They did not wish to leave their home and wished not to be a part of the blood shed.  Many entries talking of the kindness and gentleness of the Draegus’ mother who found him wounded.  Taking pity on the helpless man she took him in and licked his wounds clean. He in turn swore to use his magic to protect these dragons.  However, her father Hureth was lead to them by this Lokkingan who wanted nothing more than to bathe in dragon’s blood to gain immortality.  She felt hurt that her father was used like that, but more hurt that all her life she’d hated such gentle creatures. Lykhara felt herself being further lost in the truth, and though it hurt her, she always continued searching.
The death of the only person she could turn to for answers, and the transformation and absence of Draegus crushed her. Lykhara fell into a dark mood. She knew now, that the slaughter of dragons was unjust. Like people, not all of them were the same. The impact of this bitter truth caused Lykhara to flee into the mountains. She wanted to find any dragons that may still be there and make peace, like Roldigan did. All she wanted was to correct the wrongs her father encouraged her to follow. Correct all the wrongs her King committed. More than anything, Lykhara wanted to see Draegus again, even if he were now a dragon.  She wanted him to know that she wasn’t one of them anymore and would never hurt him or his kind. Lykhara was never seen nor heard from again. Life went on in the Kingdom, and tales of the terrors and monstrosity of the dragon continued forth, perverting the majesty of once noble creatures.