Dragon Witch ✔️

78 - Fledged

I wished I could close my eyes and forget about the dragon looming over me, about the pain coursing through my arm, about my friends dying on the other side of the village--but that wasn't an option. As long as I was alive, I had to fight. I had to try to save them.

Why? There was no hope of defeating Clastor when I was this weak and armed only with a dagger. Though, "armed" was a loose term, seeing as my dagger was just out of reach. What could I do to win this fight?

I could fledge. It was my only chance. If I fledged, the rush of transformation magic would give me the power I needed to take him down before my wounds stopped me. As a dragon, I would have the strength to defeat Clastor.

A loud bell rang out in the distance, and Clastor raised his head.

He poked my side with a claw, then chuckled when I flinched. Did I just hear the feast bells? Yes, I think I did. Stop fighting. Your friends are gone now.

They couldn't be. I would tell. Somehow, I would know if they were gone. Wouldn't I?

Even if they were gone, I couldn't let Clastor get away with this. He couldn't be allowed to be free to hurt other innocent people.

Why couldn't I fledge? If it was just willpower I needed, I had plenty of that. I wanted to fledge so badly, with all of my-

No, not with all of my being. Even through the haze of pain and hopelessness, I had enough insight to know that I didn't want to be a dragon with all my being. What-ifs swarmed through my thoughts, evading any attempts to squash them.

But whatever questions I asked myself, whatever worries I had, it all boiled down to one question: Could I control my instincts as a dragon? No, it wasn't even that. Did I trust myself, that was the question. The answer was just as simple. No. I didn't trust myself. I didn't trust my genes or my instincts or even my powers.

I wanted to. I wanted to trust that I would never hurt a friend. Before I was thrown in this pit, I didn't think I could ever trust myself as a real dragon. But that was before I saw the cruelty in Clastor's eyes and heard it in his voice as he spoke about the death of people I loved. Even as a dragon, I could never be that cruel.

A shiver ran through me. It buzzed at the back of my skull, raced down my spine, zipped across my shoulders and down my legs.

Are you cold, little changeling? Clastor asked with a snort.

I blocked out his voice. Something was happening to me. It felt like magic, but it was more subtle than I was used to.

Listen to me when I'm talking to you. He jabbed me in the ribs.

The buzz spread to my fingers and toes, even to the tops of my ears. I could almost hear it now, an audible hum. It soothed the pain in my arm.

What's that? What are you doing?

Silver and gold sparks flew around me in a humming, buzzing spiral. They sank into my scales, zipped up my nose and into my mouth. In seconds, all I could see was silver and gold.

Clastor roared. No, this is impossible. You can't be-

The sparks exploded outward in a solid wave, throwing him across the room. I stood on four feet. Four large, clawed feet covered in gold-rimmed silver scales. My left foreleg ached, but the pain wasn't as acute as it had been before. A glance at the wound told me what I already suspected; the gash was healing itself.

Clastor stumbled to his feet, growling. That's impossible.

"Obviously, it's not," I tried to say. The words came out as garbled growls. Rolling my eyes, I switched to thought speech. Unlike when I was wearing the revealer crown, my draconic powers worked perfectly. Obviously, it's not impossible. I just did it.