CHAPTER I – DRAGON
The end of the night was signaled by the dawn filtering through the canopy.Owls fled in a hurry to escape the light.
The gray towers of the Brimstone orphanage were tightly embraced by the fog.
As if it wanted to hide them from the world.
The rules of a disciplined morning were ignored by only one girl.
Léna was deep in sleep.
Spitting on every expectation.
Today, she excelled once again in her newfound craft: being late.
Then reality crashed in.
And something that didn’t belong there.
“Wake up! It’s here!” Lumiera shrieked.
Her tail lashed the pillow wildly.
Léna flinched.
She buried herself deeper under the blanket.
“It’ll go away,” she muttered.
But the cat didn’t budge.
With her wet nose, she prodded the girl’s face frantically.
Every meow was a sharp, stifled cry for help.
“This is going to be trouble! Get up already!”
The words hadn’t even been swallowed by the walls when the door burst open.
“Again!” the woman bellowed.
Her floor-length black cloak billowed around her as if it were on fire.
Her eyes sparked wildly beneath her unibrow.
Rage had smoothed her face flat.
She was Ms. Rose, the living verdict of the orphanage.
Léna pulled the pillow off her face.
She squinted in the exploding light.
“Stop shouting,” she said hoarsely.
The woman’s face turned beet-red.
She clenched her fists, then stepped back.
The floating switch, which followed her every move like a shadow, hissed through the room with lightning speed.
It pointed straight at the girl’s face.
Léna’s heart skipped a beat.
She stood up.
She put her hands on her hips.
“Well, as you can see, I’m awake.”
“My feet are just cold… but I guess that doesn’t really matter now.”
“Don’t be impudent!” the woman hissed.
Her index finger sliced through the air threateningly.
“Not since the great witch-burnings has there been such an insolent child in this institution!”
Léna suddenly smirked.
“How lucky that you survived them unscathed!”
Ms. Rose took a deep breath.
She gestured toward the window.
“Perhaps a bit of fresh, cold air will cool that wicked little nature of yours.”
The window swung open.
A frozen draft slashed into the room.
Léna shivered, but she didn’t take her eyes off the woman.
“Thank you very much! Nothing beats a thorough cold!”
The woman nodded, then gestured toward the uniform.
The dark blue fabric rose into the air.
A single flash, and it was on the girl.
“If you woke up on time, this wouldn’t even happen,” she snapped.
Léna glanced down at the fabric tight against her body.
“You know I’m not a little girl anymore, right?”
“And that’s where you stop!” Ms. Rose cut her off.
“Off to breakfast! Then, I expect you in my office.”
Léna crumpled the coarse fabric of the uniform between her fingers.
“But I don’t have time today! The dragon mushrooms are ripe, and I have permission!”
“Which I hereby revoke!” the woman snapped.
“Ms. Loiner is waiting for her package. You’re delivering it.”
“But… the mushrooms…” the girl stammered.
“It wasn’t a request.”
Her voice rattled the windowpane.
The words turned to edges and, like ice, sliced through the girl’s defiance.
There was no room for an answer, only suffocating obedience.
She turned.
Her cloak snapped behind her like an angry wing.
The door clicked shut with a dull thud.
Léna’s face flushed red.
“Nothing ever happens the way I want! I hate this so much!”
The cat rubbed against her ankle.
“That may be so… but are we checking out breakfast?”
The girl looked down at her.
She leaned over.
Scooped her up.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Lumiera suddenly froze.
The cat slowly licked around her mouth.
Something shifted in the world.
Meanwhile, somewhere on the edge of a stray thought, two voices were arguing.
One was always mocking.
The other wanted to see the world as too beautiful.
“Shall I tell you a story?” Red asked.
He poured a grayish, indistinctly colored drink into his cup.
“If it’s short, go ahead,” Blue replied.
Red took a sip.
He began.
“Once, on a late summer evening, a dragon escorted a witch home.”
Blue sighed.
“You’re lying already!”
“Dragons don’t escort anyone. And witches don’t go home.”
“Should I continue now, or should I explain instead?” Red asked.
“Continue… at least I’ll see where you ruin it,” Blue snapped.
“They were passing through a village,” Red whispered.
“The houses were lined up like mushrooms.”
“The dragon made the earth tremble with every step.”
“He didn’t hurry.”
“He was so fat that his belly carved a trench in the dust.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Blue noted.
“A dragon can’t be fat.”
“Most destructive things are…” Red shot back.
“The villagers began to run.”
“Small, large, together, separately. The direction didn’t matter.”
“Some fled with such momentum that no one has known where they ended up since.”
“But suddenly, the dragon stopped.”
“A tiny, freckled child stood in his way.”
Blue set down his cup.
The metal clanged dully.
“Right. Here comes the part where you save the world…”
“The child wasn’t afraid,” Red said.
“He looked into the beast’s glowing red eyes. Then he stepped forward…”
“He planted a wet kiss on its scaled foot.”
Blue stood up.
“If you say a flower grew out of it, I swear I’ll pour this over you…”
Red looked at him.
“A flower grew out of it.”
“Of course. And love defeated the beast, right?” Blue mocked.
Red’s face remained motionless.
“No... The dragon crushed him!”
Silence fell.
The world-saving hope froze on Blue’s face.
Then, a slow grin began to creep up Red’s face.
“Why are you laughing?” Blue asked in a trembling voice.
“This isn’t even funny.”
Red looked him in the eye.
“Only your face is! That you actually believed it could end any other way…”
“I shouldn’t have to beg!” Léna said pleadingly.
Her fists turned white from the grip.
Lumiera was rolling around on the cold stone.
She was licking her paw with a show of calm.
“We still have time.”
“But in a minute, it’s our turn!” the girl continued urgently.
Lumiera stopped.
Her eyes narrowed into yellow slits.
“You know, a minute is a lot of time… sometimes.”
Léna’s lip quivered.
She didn’t argue.
She scooped her up.
She set off.
At the end of the corridor stood the towering oak door.
Three meters of dark wood, where the rules were carved in as if into flesh:
BRUSH YOUR TEETH.
WAKE UP ON TIME.
DO NOT ASK.
She paused at the threshold.
The wand barely stirred in her hand—a faint crack, a forbidden movement, and the door gave way.
Century-old dust fell on her shoulders.
“Gross,” Lumiera grunted.
Thick, suffocating air poured out.
It was like a forgotten wine cellar where only mold remained.
“Magical morning again, Ms. Rose…” Léna said.
The woman was sprawled in the rocking chair.
She didn’t look over.
Only the rhythmic creaking of the chair broke the silence.
“Knocking… or were twenty solstices not enough for you to learn?” Ms. Rose muttered.
Léna smiled.
“I wanted to, but that package is so important… I thought I’d save some time this way.”
The woman shook her head.
“You’re very good at being insolent.”
She pointed toward the corner of the room.
“The package is there in the corner.”
Léna stepped to the white box.
The cardboard was cold.
“Surely it could wait… say, maybe until tomorrow?”
Ms. Rose stood up with a groan.
She brushed away the girl’s gaze as if she were just flicking aside a speck of dust.
“She’s been sending those damned letters with that damned raven for a week, I’ve had enough.”
“But then, wouldn’t that one day not matter?” Léna asked.
“One more question and you’re cleaning the upper tower; now get going, I don’t want to see you!” the woman shouted.
Léna nodded silently.
“Take a coat! I’m not going to waste herbs on you if you catch a cold!” she snapped at the girl.
The box suddenly jerked in her hand.
The girl froze.
Sharp, tiny claws raked the paper.
“This… this is moving.”
Ms. Rose smirked.
It was a crooked, cruel smile.
“What did you think?”
She gestured toward the box.
“The Maustus-hatchlings came out a week ago.”
Léna’s lungs filled with the smell of must.
Her hand trembled.
“This is very dangerous.”
The woman looked at her.
“Only if you open it. So don’t.”
“Now, get out!”
Léna stepped out into the freezing corridor.
Inside, the Maustuses moved again.
Thump.
The heavy wood closed on the darkness.
Léna’s shoulders jumped to her ears.
She flinched.
Then she set off.
She ran through the fog.
Across the frozen yard.
The ice bit into her face, into her lungs.
The box throbbed in her hand.
It was a living weight.
With every step, she felt the strike of tiny claws on the cardboard.
The cardboard was thin. Too thin.
“Just don’t let it open,” she kept repeating.
Then the grayness suddenly split.
A black fence.
Léna persistently pressed the cold, silver button.
“Maybe they aren’t home, or the bell is broken?”
Lumiera’s ear flicked.
“It works. I can hear it. And someone is coming.”
Léna shivered in the icy draft.
“They better hurry… because I’m freezing here.”
“Why didn’t you take a coat?” the cat snapped.
Léna shrugged.
The door opened.
A blindfolded, gray creature stood before them.
He was gaunt, as if molded from shadows.
“Magical day. How can I help you?”
“We brought this beast for Ms. Loiner,” Léna replied, then held out the box.
The creature swallowed. He backed away.
“Yes. The mistress has been waiting. Follow me.”
They stepped into the gloom. The creature turned around.
“Take your shoes off, and your…”
Then he let his gaze linger on the girl’s trembling shoulders.
“…your coat… oh, I see, there isn’t one.”
Léna gave a thin smile.
“I forgot.”
She held out the package again.
“Here it is… here.”
The manservant pulled his hand away.
“I’m not touching that. Put it there.” – He pointed to the chest of drawers.
From the depths of the room, a slender, blonde lady stepped forward. Ms. Loiner.
She was like a statue of elegance and coolness.
“Hi, Léna. I see my package finally arrived.”
Léna’s eyes brightened.
“Magical day! Yes, we brought it.”
The woman turned around.
“Great, my son has been waiting for it.”
She stepped to the brown oak table.
“Have a cup of tea with me. Only if you have time, of course.”
Lumiera landed on the table.
“I hate that. Isn’t there some meat?”
Léna immediately scooped her up.
“I’m sorry! She’s slightly ill-mannered…”
Ms. Loiner’s eyes crinkled into a smile, but her gaze remained ice-cold.
“Just put her back down.”
She glanced at the creature.
“Frank, tea.”
A short while later, they were sitting over steaming cups.
The white box remained on the chest of drawers.
Lonely.
Ominous.
“And tell me… how did the magic potion go?”
Léna went pale.
“It was ruined. Even though I did everything exactly as it’s written.”
Ms. Loiner didn’t hurry.
She stirred her tea.
Clink. Clink.
“You know… first, you always have to understand the basic instinct.”
Léna nodded.
“Desire?”
“Exactly.” – The woman let go of the spoon.
“But do you even know why?”
Léna watched the dissipating steam.
“Not really…”
Ms. Loiner smiled.
“How could we prepare a potion… if we don’t even understand ourselves?”
She glanced at the manservant.
“Frank. Bring five glasses.”
A few moments later, she lined them up one by one.
“These represent your emotional channels now. They are all empty now.”
“What do you think happens if even one of them gets blocked?”
“An emotion is born?” Léna blurted out.
“Exactly! And you know, the more that get blocked… the deeper it is.” – Loiner raised her wand. She gently tapped the rim of the first glass, which filled with water out of nowhere with a ringing sound. The second, third, and fourth clinked one after the other; the crystals lit up in turn as the water bubbled to their rims.
She reached the last glass.
“And if they all get blocked?”
Léna looked at the wall.
In the picture, two dragons weren’t dancing; instead, clinging to each other’s flesh, fused into a single, throbbing wound, they were devouring the world.
“Then… love?” she replied.
Ms. Loiner’s face stiffened.
“Sometimes, yes. Sometimes something much worse.”
Léna’s face went white.
“But I don’t understand… how does this help me?”
The woman stopped the spoon.
“It doesn’t.”
The girl looked up.
“Because it’s not the potion that gets ruined,” the lady interjected softly.
“It’s the one who makes it.”
“You know the rules. You know the ratios. You know the steps.”
She reached for one of the glasses and carefully turned it.
“You just don’t know what you’re letting through yourself in the meantime.”
Ms. Loiner finally looked at her.
“Desire is not enough, Léna. It only opens the door.”
“What comes through you… only that is important.”
Léna exhaled.
“I give up.”
The woman laughed.
“You think… you’ve been trying so far?”
She rose and stepped to the bookshelf.
She took down a thick volume interwoven with gold threads.
“Read this,” she said.
“Not so that you’ll succeed.”
She paused for a moment.
“Just so you can see what you’re looking for in the wrong place.”
Léna ran her hand over the letters, then read aloud softly:
“Pure Love.”
Ms. Loiner nodded.
“Feel free to take it home.”
Ding-dong.
The bell sliced aggressively into the silence.
Ms. Loiner glanced at the manservant.
“See who it is.”
A leaf tapped against the window.
Frank rushed back, panting.
“Madam… your son. He’s had a serious accident at Meloren.”
Ms. Loiner turned pale. The teacup slipped from her fingers and shattered on the stone with a crash. It spread across the floor like spilled blood.
“How many times… just how many more times do I have to go through this?” she whispered.
Her voice hardened.
“I wouldn’t wish this on any mother.”
She glanced at Frank.
“Call the Gray Passage! Immediately!”
Léna’s throat tightened.
“Can I… can I help with anything?”
The woman sized the girl up. She looked at her like a pawn left on a chessboard who had suddenly become important.
“Actually… yes. My son lives on Dark Mountain. You should look after his house.”
“But… Ms. Rose…” the girl began.
“I’ll take care of her. Personally. Will you take it on?”
Léna glanced at the cat.
“But we wanted to gather mushrooms…”
“Rose chewed up that permit a long time ago,” Lumiera spat.
“You don’t stand a chance.”
Ms. Loiner was already pulling on her coat.
The rustle of the expensive fabric cut into the air like a whip.
“You’ll find mushrooms on the mountain too. No one will be demanding papers there.”
Léna nodded.
“Sure… then I’d be glad to. But… how long would I have to stay there?”
Ms. Loiner glanced back for a moment.
“I don’t even know that yet.”
She opened the door.
“Frank will take care of everything. Until then, make yourself at home.”
The manservant stepped beside Léna.
“There’s plenty of food, I brought some yesterday.”
He paused for half a breath.
“But there’s something. The library… do not enter!”
Léna nodded.
“Sure… we understand…”
Frank stepped to the table.
“Don’t forget the book.”
The shadow of the house settled on the hillside like a massive, black carcass.
“Look… so many dragon mushrooms!” Léna whispered as they stopped at the stone wall.
The cat jumped to the ground. She sniffed the air.
“I think that can wait until later. Let’s look around first.”
Léna leaned down and stroked the cat’s head.
She slowly opened the door.
“You’re right, you can only tell which one is ripe after dark anyway… besides, I’m freezing.”
Lumiera smirked.
“You could have asked for a coat…”
The girl shrugged.
They stepped inside.
The air was still. Only dust motes floated in the frozen gloom.
Léna set the book down on the table.
Her wand moved—a single, casual flick.
The fire howled in the fireplace.
The flames painted the walls red.
“See?” – She turned to Lumiera.
“This works.”
Lumiera was already clinging to the handle of the inner, closed door.
The metal creaked softly under her weight.
“Get over here!” the cat grunted.
“It won’t even budge!”
Léna put her hands on her hips.
The darkness at the end of the corridor seemed to draw closer.
“You know what they said? We aren’t allowed in there!”
Lumiera lowered herself to the floor.
“I just wanted to take a peek. That’s not the same thing…”
Léna took a step toward the heavy wood.
“But it is the same. You enter with your gaze.”
Knock.
Léna froze.
The sound was dull.
Fleshy.
The girl’s lungs emptied. For a moment, she couldn’t even catch her breath.
“Did you… hear that too?” – The question was barely more than a breath.
“It’s probably just a book…”
Lumiera’s ears flattened against her skull. Her fur stood on end.
“Sure, just by itself…” – the cat bared her teeth.
The girl’s eyes widened.
“Did you… hear that?”
Lumiera smirked.
“Why, can I go in with my ears… but not with my eyes?”
Léna made a bitter, forced grimace.
“You’re right. Come on… I’ll give you something to eat instead.”
The crackling of the fire suddenly seemed too loud.
Knock.
This was stronger now.
More deliberate.
With a single leap, the cat threw herself into the girl’s lap.
Her claws dug deep into Léna’s flesh.
“That didn’t come from there!” Lumiera hissed.
Léna watched the dark corners.
“I didn’t hear anything…” she whispered.
“Maybe it was just your stomach signaling.”
Lumiera looked the girl in the eye.
“I know that sound… that wasn’t it.”
Knock.
The sound was now coming from the bottom of the door.
As if something were scratching from underneath.
Lumiera froze. Her yellow eyes opened wide.
“Still… if we can’t go in,” the cat hissed out the words,
“…we could pull an armchair over there.”
Léna’s brow twitched.
“What for?”
“So that it doesn’t come out… while we’re sleeping,” Lumiera snapped.
Léna looked at the door, then at the heavy furniture.
She braced herself against the leather armchair.
The floor screamed.
The screeching of the legs raked across the room as she leaned the armchair against the door.
Léna stopped. She looked down at her feet.
“Damn it… I scratched the floor.”
“We’re going to get in trouble for this.”
Lumiera looked at the deep, dark scratch on the lacquered wood.
“I certainly won’t. You did it, and all by yourself,” she snapped coldly.
Léna flushed red, her sparking gaze falling on the cat.
“Fine. But then I’ll eat alone too!”
The cat’s body tensed.
Her tongue stopped halfway on her paw.
“Alright, fine…” she finally muttered.
“We did it together.”
They stopped.
Both of them stared at the door.
The dark wood didn’t move.
“Can we go?” the cat asked in a thin voice.
A short while later, Léna was already sitting in the other armchair.
The book in her hand.
The stillness almost hurt.
“Look…” the girl whispered.
She placed her finger on the edge of the illustration.
“What a beautiful picture.”
Lumiera climbed onto her shoulder.
“That’s just a person in a white dress,” the animal snorted.
“You see that every day.”
Léna sighed.
“Why are you being so hostile?”
The cat breathed into her ear. Her whiskers brushed against the girl’s face.
“I’d rather we played. I can’t read. This is a waste of time for me.”
Léna stroked the tense back.
“Just one more chapter… and I’m done for today.”
The cat shook her head.
“How many times have you said that already?”
“But I mean it this time!” the girl snapped.
She turned the page.
The paper didn’t rustle.
It cracked.
Light erupted from the pages.
Cold. Blinding.
It sliced through the room like a razor.
It made the walls vanish. The armchair. The safety.
Gold dust settled on the girl’s skin.
It ate its way under her fingernails like a glowing rot.
It burned.
The book did not close.
