#dark squad

MELAENIS: All Hallow’s Eve.

On a night like this, there was more magic than air. You could breathe the magic and feel it expanding in your lungs. You could look up into the sky and see it in each blinking star, in the curl of wind through the trees. It was a night for the meeting of worlds: of goblins, ghouls, ghosts, but also of their stories, each one a key that unlocked a new door to let them in. All Hallow’s Eve erased almost all such veils, so things that seemed different were not different at all.

In other words, it was the perfect time for Melaenis and Howl to try once again to use their tear. The tear was the key. And this time, when they turned it, it wouldn’t be an accident.

It shimmered in all its Strangeness, where they’d hidden it in the petunias. Over the past few months, Mel had been monitoring it. It was slowly expanding, though at a miniscule rate that could only be measured, really, by the starlight. Eventually the tear would get too wide for the charm they had created to hold it. Eventually-- thousands of years from now-- Mel figured the tear, if not mended, would split like a mouth and swallow the entire town whole. Well, if no one messed with it.

Mel fully intended to mess with it.

It’s what she did best. And this second round of experimentation was going to be more intentional than the first. Once again, she drew out the moonlight into a fine thread, winding it around her spool. Howl gathered its opposite: black night, moonlight’s shadow.

And Maggie, their dear girl, completed an additional step that Mel hoped would help stabilize the tear, minimizing the chance of another mistake: she blew a gentle circle of dragon flame onto the ground. The fire licked the air and sizzled the grass and smelled of magic, of the tear, of other worlds. Melaenis’ stomach clenched and her eyes flashed red in anticipation.

She checked the time. Nearly the witching hour.

“If this works, imagine. The entire multiverse will live in our garden,” said Mel and she grinned at Howl. “No door will ever be closed to us.”

HOWL:

There was truly no time of the year more deliciously wonderful than All Hallow’s Eve.

The timing of this experiment was deliberate. There were days and months and weeks of the year that lent themselves to certain spells and reagents and all of these, you see, varied among sorcerers and cultures. But in the Western canon, there was no day as suited for magic as All Hallow’s Eve, as Sanheim.

As Howl gathered the darkness in his hands, he glanced over at the tear in question, still shimmering and glimmering, almost with a mischievous little wink. He wondered if tears were at all sentient. Perhaps another question to answer at another time, after he and Mel had harnessed the power of interdimensional travel for their own uses.

“Ah, and they say it could not be done,” said Howl with an easy laugh.

Calcifer hovered near Howl, his eyes steadying on Maggie who helped ignite the circle with her dragon flame. That was only step one of the matter, you see, for it would take the flame of a demon as well — a creature out of this realm — in order for their spell to work. If their calculations were correct, of course.

He drifted over to the dragon flame and extended his own fiery tendril. The two fires licked together, merging almost, except Howl could clearly see where Cal’s started and where Maggie’s did, even if the flames looked just like any orange flames. There was something different about the both of them — the dragon flame sharper and vibrant, the demon flame flickering more frequently.

“The moon is almost in position,” he called across the circle. Maggie and Cal had both flew over to him. Maggie snapped at Howl  playfully, while Calcifer nestled onto her back. Howl held the spool away from Maggie’s teeth. “No biting, love. We don’t need another tear to mess with right now. Perhaps after we successfully conquer the multiverse then you can have another go.”

MELAENIS: When designing this spell, there’d been many questions to consider. There had, yes, been the time. There had been the strength of the reagents as well as a question of their ripeness. Was fresh moonlight more effective than moonlight soaked over the period of several months? What about the age of the stardust they plucked from the sky? They’d had to consider how to design the runes, from the size of it to its geometrical components. Should the whole thing be drawn with dragon and demon fire? Or would such a thing spell disaster, rip the cosmos in half, and scatter the pieces?

Never, though, had they asked whether or not they should.

When they arrived home from Elias, Mel had instead turned to Howl and simply asked when they could try again. And Howl had smiled at her and pulled one of her wild pin-curls with a smirk that would make a lesser woman swoon. But Mel was no woman, and they were not merely lovers. Instead, they faced each other as partners, each a different half of a magic word.

There had only been yes. And what now? And when? And how?

The why was unquestioned. The why was because of love, even if it was a love that did not look the same as other loves when captured in their magical vials. It wasn’t a rosebud love, nor a sweet-as-cherry love. Mel didn’t know what that love would look like if procured, for it was something that neither of them could quite capture even if they wanted to-- which they did not. Some reagents were only powerful when they were wild.

But it was enough to know that love was there, burning and burning. A torch that would never go out.

The light of it flickered in Mel’s eyes as she looked at Howl and Maggie and smiled. This smile was not so complicated. If caught as a reagent, it would manifest as a single, silver coin. It lasted only as long as Howl’s eyes were not on her.

When he looked her way, Mel looked up at the moon instead. She gave her silver-coin smile to her and bit down on her lip.

“It’s time,” she said softly. Then she lifted her wand, wrapped in moonlight and met Howl’s gaze over the flickering flames of their rune. “Let us open another door.”

Like a conductor to a great orchestra, Mel flourished the wand. The moonlight spilled over the circle. The tear shimmered, then glistened and then, light began to seep from its delicate seam.

It brightened like a brand new star on the cusp of its birth.

HOWL

Here is the thing about Halloween this year: it also fell right at the cusp of a Mercury Retrograde.

As such — breakdowns in communication. As such — breakdowns between what kept this world from the next.

So when the light spilled from the tear, it was brighter and bolder than it had been the last few times. Howl had to shield his eyes from it. Looking at it too directly felt like looking into the sun. No, not the sun. It was brighter than the sun. Something about it felt like it was too much for this world, so pulsating and brilliant.

And standing next to it, Mel looked as beautiful and brilliant as ever. It was almost like she belonged with this absolutely impossible feat of magic. The light spilled over her and Howl could see a wicked glimmer in her green eyes, a sheen in her wild hair, sparks of curiosity flying off of her like a she herself was a wildfire.

There was something about dimension-bending magic that served as such a delicious aphrodisiac, Howl had always thought. Dark magic, of course, was how Maggie had been conceived.

“We should anchor the runes now!” Howl shouted, for with the light came an unearthly humming sound, something that filled his ears but that sounded nothing like he’d ever heard on earth before — a mix of wind rushing, the static of a television signal, and beneath it all, what sounded like a human voice — a woman’s voice. It reminded Howl a bit of what he imagined a siren’s call to sound like; there was something about it that transfixed him, called him towards the tear in front of him. But he kept his eyes on Mel, instead, reaching for his wand to draw the anchoring rune.

MELAENIS: Mel heard the woman’s voice too.

She thought she heard that voice say her name.

She turned toward it, momentarily forgetting she was in the middle of a spell, that it was she who held the wand, who made the commands. Instead, she was commanded, and the spell enthralled her. Her eyes widened as they filled with this brand new light, brighter than any sun, yes, brighter than any moon. It was not a light she had ever seen. As it washed over her, she knew it wasn’t light at all, but something else Realized into Light as it left its dimension and reached, and reached, and reached for her.

The dragon tasted it and woke up in her chest. When Mel opened her eyes against the light, she saw through it with the dragon’s eyes, who had always been of other worlds.

She saw beyond the light. And what Melaenis saw was not light at all, but an open door that led to a thousand worlds beyond this one.

What she saw was a hand, beckoning to her and the flash of a familiar smile-- her own smile. The woman’s voice was her own. She was already on the other side of the tear.

Howl’s voice faded, lost underneath the growing rumbling. It sounded like a train rushing toward her. Her grip loosened on her wand. She didn’t realize this, until the wand had already slipped from her hand and vanished into the air as though it had never been there. With that hand, now empty, Mel reached back toward the tear and her head tilted…

“Howl-- are you seeing this?” She gasped the words into the air, where they were quickly swallowed. She laughed with the Delight of a much younger witch, and that laughter spilled into the cacophony, one instrument among many. The spell was out of control now-- Mel hadn’t performed the anchor and so energy from the tear was spilling out carelessly all over the place. But Mel didn’t care. Here, standing in the middle of her own failure, she could only look forward.

The hand reached for her again, fingers relaxed, asking for her to take it. She felt the rest of the spell’s magic already wrapped around her, the way it had wrapped around her wand and made it vanish. Her breath caught in her throat as the hand finally wrapped around her wrist.

In the last second, Mel looked over her shoulder and saw Howl one last time. She smiled at him.

And then, Mel followed herself into the door, and the magic swallowed her whole. HOWL

He knew it would happen a moment before it did.

He saw the rushing light. He saw the Delight spill from Mel — oh, and how fire bright it was, beautiful flames that licked across Melaenis’ sharp face, illuminating her in a vibrant glow, lighting her eyes up with a spark that Howl realized he had not seen in quite some time. He heard the voice, so sweet and intoxicating — and so familiar.

He dropped his own wand as Mel smiled at him.

That blasted heart in his chest pounded. It squeezed. It raced. It scampered with the frenzy of a frightened hair.

“Wait for me!” he called out. “I’m coming with you!”

And he ran towards the tear — but the moment he crossed into the circle, he found he could run no further, blocked out by the tear’s magic. This voice was for Mel and Mel alone. This tear had opened for her, full of possibilities and universes and magic. Just for her.

Howl’s gaze met hers once more.

His heart tightened.

He was not mad. Of course he was not mad — this was Mel’s destiny. This was a tear that had cut itself into the universe for her. Every single moment of Mel’s life had led up to this moment: her dragon; her landing in Swynlake; their first meeting by the lake when she’d naked and covered in ash; the town bringing the two of them together with every spell; the first time they’d come together — not just two sorcerers, but two shadows, who knew each other in the most wicked, intimate ways possible; Maggie’s egg; Howl losing his way; Maggie’s hatching; Mel snatching Howl away and then returning his heart — it all led to this moment.

Howl knew it now.

The wind whipped through his hair as he watched Melaenis — his darling, his love, the only person in this whole wide world — nay, the only person across the multiverse — who matched him in every way — slip through the tear in time and space. Away from Swynlake.

Away from this world.

Away from him.

The moment she stepped through, the tear basically vomited a spew of light and sound and an overwhelming overload of the senses and then sucked it all back in all at once.

Nothing remained except the faint smell of Melaenis’s evening coffee and a lick of smoke in the air.

Howl stared at the empty clearing. He knelt down and reached for his wand, wiping it off with the fabric of his blouse.

 JAKE:

Here is a thing about dragons:

They are old creatures and they have been around long before humans and will very likely continue to be around long after humans. There are dragons and there are Dragons, but dragons had walked the earth far longer than anything remotely human. They are creatures of legend and the old and Jake had not actually ever seen one up close before. In America, you see, most of them had been driven away, as cities rose up, as skyscrapers tore through the air, as the world changed and magic faded from the land.

Dragons -- capital ‘D’ -- revered dragons and they knew to give them the utmost respect.

Now, Jake had gotten whiff of the dragon back when it first broke through the house on Main Street and took to the air. Fu had pestered him about going to see the dragon and pay proper tribute to it.

“Smells different, that one,” grumbled Fu. “Could be dangerous.”

But Jake was -- Jake was an eighteen-year-old boy finishing up his last semester of secondary and he wanted to skateboard and he wanted to watch movies with his girlfriend and he wanted to study for his history final (okay, so he didn’t really wanna do that but that was the stuff he should be doing, ya know?)

Then there was the case of one Kiki Takayama.

Jake had returned home from school one day and Fu instantly lumbered up to him and demanded they go to the hospital to see her, because she was a sorceress from a long line of powerful Japanese witches and really, Jake should’ve introduced himself earlier. Especially since they had been in the same weird alternate Grecian household or whatever.

So, Jake showed up with a bunch of peonies and that was when he learned the full story of the dragon in the woods.

The dragon in the woods was not a full dragon, as Fu had suspected, but the shadow of a sorceress. And in her clutches was the heart of one sorcerer. Actually -- it was Melaenis and Howl, who had been Jake and Kiki’s weird alternate Grecian masters or whatever. But the fact of the matter -- Howl was in danger, as long as the dragon still clutched his heart.

Now why it had taken Jake a solid month to make the trek to the dragon’s cave was another story, which he tried to say was because of finals and stuff, but really, he was a bit nervous. Fu had given him dragon prep and he’d finished the last of his exams before actual finals season and here was a free weekend before prom and stuff, so off the the woods he went.

He was in his Dragon form, flying through the air, with Fu on his back. Fu had on a knapsack, filled with some old Chinese trinkets that he had in his old trunk. Jake didn’t ask about the coin around Fu’s neck; after the whole sphynx cat in the park incident, Fu had not said much about Yan Yan or the coin and very much avoided Jake’s questions on the matter.

He soared through the sky, his little wings giving him an extra lift as he cut upwards through the air and made a loop (“WATCH IT KID!” yelped Fu, clutching on tigheter) and then dove back down. The cave was easy to find and Jake landed with a soft thud. Fu got off his back, getting back down onto all fours.

The opening of the cave was dark. Jake raised his neck, wings curling into his back, and trod over to it. He could definitely smell the dragon -- and the magic that permeated everywhere. His tail brushed against the forest floor, sweeping closer towards him.

“Hello?”  called Jake, in the dragon language. “I’m here to, uh.”

“He seeks an audience with the dragon,” said Fu, in Beast. “As a member of the Order of the Dragon, he wishes to offer a tribute.”

THE DRAGON:

The dragon had claimed this quarry and this forest for her kingdom two and a half moons ago.

Two and a half moons was a blink to a creature such as herself. And yet in that blink, the dragon had amassed her fortune steadily, her caves brimming with gold, relics, and fine cloth. In the eyes of a dragon, it was nothing. In the eyes of a dragon, even her home here was but a humble little pocket of the vast, brilliant world-- a world that belonged to her. She should not have to curl up in such a cramped cave. She shouldn’t have to hiss and spit at the farmers around this delicate ecosystem to provide her what was her own. She should not have to entertain so many fleshbag-visitors, their blood dull and magic-less, their minds clouded with arrogance. Knights and farmboys and would-be lords. None of them scared her but all of them made her restless.

This was her kingdom and it should be given, not taken. She was a dragon and she should be worshipped, not plotted against.

Each day, that restlessness grew and she dreamed of starting from scratch. She entertained herself with these fantasies: scorching the town down into ash so she might grow something new; offering the townsfolk their lives if they took a knee and burning half of them just to hear the screams anyway; leaving this little town entirely and seeking her own-- she heard stories of a dragonhold in the east, in the Himalayan Mountains where men were few and the weather wild.

She was stopped every time by a whisper.

It was her stupid witch.

Somewhere around the turn of the second moon, her witch had woken just enough for the dragon to feel her consciousness pushing against her own. It was her daughter that woke her more than anything else: Magdalena Rose the size of a foal now, flying on her own. She brought back a tattered spellbook in her talons one knight, a prize fitting of a witch, not a dragon. She’d cocked her head, that crown of feathers fluttering as those round, blue eyes gazed curiously at the dragon, as though she were waiting for something.

This is a common spellbook, the dragon said to her offspring. This is not a thing of great magic.

Magdalena Rose chirped low, the sound more birdsong than dragon, and the dragon blinked: seeing the witch press a kiss on the creature’s plume of feathers.

Then the daughter skittered farther into the cave, back toward her father-- who might find such childish drivel charming-- and the witch disappeared.

But these moments, where the dragon felt the veil of her power fade, became more frequent. Whenever the dragon filled her mind with visions of fire and blood, the witch asserted herself. No, she hissed.

When the voice of the Dragon-Boy came, the witch opened her eyes again.

But the dragon was still in power. The dragon was the one that rose from her half-slumber and smelled the air, rich with that ancient, rare magic of the Dragon guardians. It had been a long time since she’d smelled anything like that...since the demi-god came, oh how she still wanted him for herself…

Perhaps the Dragon-Boy would stay. If not, she’d break his fragile hide and bless the front of her cave with his blood.

No, said the witch.

Shut up. The dragon rose and slipped toward the entrance. Her great head emerged from the shadows and peered down at the small creature, more wyrm than dragon, more hatchling than full-grown. Oh, the forms of the Dragons had always made the dragon laugh. To Mundus, they seemed ethereal and powerful-- until they saw what a real dragon should look like.

Even his Eastern kind made this one look a fool. But a prize was a prize.

A tribute, repeated the dragon, sounding amused. And what does a young Dragonling such as yourself have to offer me? And why have you taken so long to deliver it? I should punish you for your tardiness alone.

JAKE

Fu glared at Jake, because honestly, there was no good explanation for why Jake had taken so long besides adolescent foolishness. Jake crunched some leaves under his claws, shifting his weight to his back haunches and glanced at Fu briefly. He felt really in over his head, especially seeing just how flippin’ big this dragon was -- hell, this dragon could so easily crush him with one snap of her jaws. Not to mention the deep, dark magic that was radiating off of her. Jake’s Perception only usually worked in his Dragon form and boy, was this dragon absolutely stinking of dark magic.

Fu cleared his throat.

“I apologize for his tardiness,” said Fu, dipping his head lower. “He is still a young one and adolescent troubles got in the way.”

Damn, why was Fu suddenly Mr. Speech Man?

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry finals and stuff. Uh.” Jake raised his neck, tilting his head back towards the dragon, before trodding over to Fu and gently taking the knapsack between his teeth and shaking the contents onto the forest floor.

Out toppled a few jade sculptures and some bronze vases filled to the brim with gold coins.

Holy shit Fu, thought Jake, making a mental note not to pay for Fu’s pizza order because apparently the dog was loaded.

“I hope these tributes will be okay,” said Jake, dipping his head and nudging one of the vases towards the dragon. As he lifted his head, he took a moment to survey the back of the cave. A heart would be small and he wasn’t sure where to even begin to look, but a peek was as good a start as any. “We can help you take them inside.”

THE DRAGON:

Ugh. Millennials.

Still, the dragon lifted her head and made no move to slay the Dragonling, while he fetched the knapsack full of treasure. The dragon’s nostrils flared. She could smell the metal and could name each mineral residing in the knapsack-- jade, gold, bronze.

Sure enough, these treasures spilled out, clanking against each other, music to the dragon’s ears.

But back in the time of dragons, such a gift would not be enough from a Dragonling and certainly not one that had already insulted a queen such as herself. At the height of her power she received herds of cattle, from sheep to cow, along with piles and piles of gold, carried in wooden wagons, drawn by beautiful, white horses. The Dragonling would have provided either all that wealth or something of even greater importance: something of great and rare magic.

A jade sculpture, a few vases, and a fistful of coins were nothing to her.

But this was not the time of dragons. Her disappointment soured in her mouth. The urge to maim him anyway rose and rose-- and then the witch appeared again, a flash of her seaglass eye in the mind of the dragon. And it wasn’t worth the fight, nor was it worth, she supposed, spilling the blood of one so unique, even if he wasn’t smart. That would bring a Council of Dragons at her doorstep. And oh, she’d always hated politics.

Very well, she intoned instead, her voice measured, betraying nothing-- not her pleasure or displeasure. Bring the items in, Dragonling. And tell me your name, the name of your family, and how it is you have come to Swynlake.

The dragon then turned back into her shadowy cave, her tail sweeping behind her. At least this afternoon would not be a dull one. Perhaps she would have a new trophy by the time all was said and done.

JAKE

All things considered, Jake thought this was going very well. And by very well, he meant that the dragon hadn’t totally eviscerated him in the first three minutes, so things were pretty good.

Fu, meanwhile, shifted nervously. Jake didn’t notice this. He just ducked his head in reverence and followed the dragon into the cave. Fu skittered behind him, haunches raised, eyes darting around the darkness of the cave. He sniffed around, the dark magic clinging to every last rock and crevice.

Jake followed the dragon, gazing around.

Oh, uh. I’m Jake Long. Of the Fuijan Longs. But I’m from Brooklyn. And, uh, well I’m just here ‘cuz the Council wants all candidates for National Dragons to, like, have experience in international places, ya know? Especially America, ‘cuz Americans are whack.

He tried to laugh a little, but in Dragon form, it came out like a growl that echoed through the cavern walls.

“Oh! Darling -- have you brought me a present?” called a voice.

Jake raised his head, peering over the dragon’s shoulders to see a scantily clad Howl Pendragon walking towards them.

Jake’s first thought was DO NOT LOOK AT HIS CROTCH.

His second thought was now where is that heart.

“What a fine specimen,” said Howl, waltzing over to Jake and peering up into his eyes. Jake blinked, glancing from Fu to the dragon, then back to Howl. He wanted to ask if Howl was okay, but Howl seemed...fine? Happy, almost?

He tried to remember what Kiki had said, about Howl’s heart being held captive, about how he had no free will any more. About how he would die if the heart wasn’t returned to him.

“Uh. Hi, Howl. Do you remember me?” asked Jake, speaking in human tongue. “Kiki and I were your, uh, charges during Greek Week.”

“Oh, yes! That was a lovely week. Just me and --” His voice faltered and he stood, glassy-eyed, unblinking for a good three seconds, before he cocked his head. “Where are my manners? Come on in -- I’ve made some lovely avocado toast for Diablo when he gets back.”

THE DRAGON:

Out flew Diaval to collect the treasures from the ground and carry them into the rest of the hoard one by one. The dragon swept into the cave with her new, knobby-kneed envoy behind.

She did not think much of the guardian dog as he huffed and snuffled around her cave. Guardians and familiars were brainless creatures, especially the canine variety, much too concerned with security for their charges-- and so the dragon merely assumed the guardian was sniffing out potential traps and pitfalls. She was glad her witch had attracted a clever bird. They were less concerned with safety than with opportunity.

The Dragon-boy, meanwhile, was so dumb as to be mere child. His adolescence had only thickened his stupidity.

But he came from a wonderful line, didn’t he?

Because the dragon knew the Fuijan Longs. The line of Dragons was a prosperous, well-known one, going back generations and generations. And the older the magic, the more powerful it was. Or so the rule went, though the dragon herself had found an exception in one ambitious, dragon-eyed witch from Florence.

It was the boy’s magic alone that kept her from growing instantaneously bored and turning his pretty scarlet scales into jeweled dressings for her home. Though her mood might change as the weather did and whether or not she determined he was more useful dead than alive.

The sorcerer appeared then, ever the curious fool. The witch stirred again at the sound of his voice, but the dragon ignored the witch and drifted further into the cave, until she reached the bed she had made out of the most beautiful of her treasures. She settled into it, a shower of coins tumbling over her scales. Her eyes slanted as she watched Howl scurry around like an ant to serve their...guests.

Tell me of the world, said the dragon after just a moment of watching. Is Swynlake the first place you have visited, Dragonling? Are there any of my kind left in...what was the stupid word you said? Brooklyn?

Her heart hungered for news of her sisters and brothers. Even if it were only rumour, like the tales of the dragons in the Himalayas.

JAKE

There were no dragons in New York City.

Maybe there had been, once upon a time, but not since white people had come to the land and driven out all that was magic and all that belonged. That’s what some of the older Dragons had told Jake, anyway, and some of the fairies in Central Park and some of the gnomes that lived under the subway system. Magic still lived in the city, of course, flourished even, some would argue, if you knew where to look.

But there were no dragons.

Maybe in Montana or Wyoming or someplace with mountains and a big sky. Canada, Jake knew, had a thriving frost dragon population in the north and even some old forest dragons and mountain dragons. Texas was rumored to have some desert ones, too.

Not in Brooklyn, Jake answered, as Howl shuffled around to get the avacado toast. But in, uh, Texas. Which is close. Sorta. I haven’t met any in America. Just Dragons -- like me Dragons, not you dragons.

He scanned around the cave, trying to figure out where the heck this heart thing was. Fu was stoic, sitting like an actual dog and waiting patiently for Howl. But he glanced at Jake and sniffed loudly. Jake wondered why the fuck he did that -- then realized. Oh, duh. Of course the heart wouldn’t be, like, out in the open. He had to use his other senses.

“Here you are,” said Howl, and a plate of avocado toast gilded towards Jake. He caught it between his teeth, trying to get a scent of Howl’s magic and see if he recognized it anywhere else around the room.

So, uh, nice place you got here, said Jake, and he tilted the plate so he could snatch the toast on his top teeth  and pull it into his mouth. The plate floated away from him and he munched on the toast,  looking around the room.

His eyes caught a little orange flame resting upon a pile of gold. That was weird.

The magic smelled stronger there.

Wow, that’s a lot of treasure. Do you want us to bring the new stuff over?

THE DRAGON:

The dragon did not know of any place called Texas, just like she did not know any place called Brooklyn. She could imagine what these places looked like though: all concrete, metal and asphalt, massive buildings sprouting  up from the ground where Mundus all swarmed in their suits. When she had been alive and free, the world had yet to be shaped by the hands of men. All those metal forests were just dreams in their minds. Instead the world was beautiful, lush, and green, and there was enough space for dragonkin. They roamed the hills, the jungles, the wide and deep rivers, the mountains, the plains. And each one of her brothers and sisters were unique and powerful. Their magic inimitable.

But men came and had to name everything. Their languages were crude too, their tongues clumsy. They knew nothing of true names. They stole the magic from the places they stuck their flags in and spoke in the harshest of tones. Brooklyn. Texas. Disgusting.

And so the Dragon boy’s story made the dragon want to sigh and rest her head again. The longing pounded inside her for the world as it had once been. She hated this cave, she hated the Dragon boy who knew nothing of true power, she even hated the sorcerer that her witch loved, watching as he wasted his magic preparing toast. He was a ridiculous, petty, shallow-minded thing. She hungered over the magic inside him and missed the shadow she’d once danced with through the sky. Both of these things were wasted on him too.

And so, bored and tired, restless and lonely, the dragon had nothing but the treasure she had surrounded herself with. Her eyes flicked to the Dragon boy who had brought her a few more of these trinkets and the dragon thought only of those.

Yes, boy. Add your gifts to the pile, she answered and said little else, having lost all interest in the Dragon boy; he could tell her nothing else. He could give her nothing else.

Her eyes drifted away from him then and toward the glittering crystals encrusted in the cave walls. They murmured of magic. She listened to their gentle conversation and felt at least a little better. She had found the most beautiful place in this forsaken forest. If she must be alone, then here was a good place to build.

JAKE

It was now or never.

Jake had imagined several cool action sequences in his head before and they were always set to Ruff Ryders’ Anthem by DMX, so in order to pump himself up, he played that song in his head as he trod over to where the creepy raven thing had dumped the treasures and carefully picked them up in his mouth, walking over to the treasure horde.

He eyed Fu, who was pretending not to pay attention to him (at least, he hoped that Fu was pretending) and instead in deep conversation with Howl. Jake caught a snippet of what they were talking about -- something about deep conditioner.

Jake took a deep breath, dropping the trinkets onto the treasure trove. They clattered onto the jewels and the coins and other valuables and Jake darted his eyes, pretending to organize the vases and set them upright. Really, he was sniffing, try to scout out where exactly this heart was --

“Psst kid,” a little voice piped up and it took all of Jake’s incognito training not to jump up. “Over here -- the flame -- it’s me.”

Holy shit -- the fire was TALKING TO HIM?!

Uh, dude. What?

“You don’t have much time, she’ll hear. What you’re looking for -- it’s buried under me -- quickly, pretend you dropped something.”

Jake froze for a second, a necklace still between his teeth. He opened his jaw and it fell.

Oh no. I should get that.

He dug his claws into the mound, trying to find something that was not supposed to be there.

THE DRAGON:

At first the dragon realized nothing.

She had no reason to suspect. Her mind drifted, she breathed deeply the magic of her cave and even the forest beyond this one. For the dragon, everything was connected in a fine network of energy, magic like blood, pumped by the heartbeat of the world that lived deep in the core of it all. And she, born from earth and fire and sky, knew every part of it. It was the magic that sustained her now. It was the magic that she had become when the men had first come to slaughter her body, not realizing that a dragon’s soul did not easily die.

It was magic that was left, now that everything else was gone. It was all she had. 

And so she did not realize what the Dragon boy intended until he stuck that measley claw into her treasure and reached for some of her most precious magic at all.

The sorcerer’s heartbeat pumped harder as the Dragon Boy’s claws found it. Badumdum. Badumdum. Badumdum. It sang only her name.

And the dragon whipped her head around, mouth opening at once to show off every single one of her razor sharp fangs, catching the thief in the act.

She roared at once and rose from her bed of treasure, whipping her tail toward the boy. Coins, goblets, plates, jewels flew into the air and she wacked the Dragonling down.

HOW DARE YOU! Her voice thundered. She lunged toward the boy with fire sparking in her mouth.

JAKE:

Oh shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shitshit shitshit shit shit shitshit shitshit shitshit shitshit shitshit shitshit shitshit shitshit shit shit shit shit shit.

Shit.

This was not good.

Before he could process what was happening, his claws wrapped around something soft and fluttering, and then the full force of the dragons tail smacked him across the face. He tumbled down on the pile of treasure, coins flying everywhere, but righted himself as soon as he was able to.

His own heart thumped in rhythm with the one he held in his claws.

The dragon lunged, but Jake was prepared and kicked up from the floor, flying into the air. He sharply turned as he neared the ceiling of the cave, and his back skimmed the rocks, as he weaved in between the stalactites.

“FU!” he yelped.

That was the cue -- Fu started to bark and ran towards the entrance of the cave.

All Jake had to do was somehow manage a hairpin turn and get the FUCK outta here. He just had to do it. It was now or never. He had to face the angry beast behind him. He had to do it --

With a roar, he made a sharp turn, the dove towards the cave floor.

THE DRAGON:

First the apprentice witch had come, with her demigod in tow. She had left them in ruins and they had fled here in pieces.

Next, the child from the Order, playing knight in his armor and insulting her with the brandish of his magic shield. She’d crushed the shield and smashed the boy. He, too, fled, a dog with his tail between his legs.

And now the Dragon Boy had come, another after the heart of the sorcerer.

The fury filled the dragon, blinding her with it. She lunged for the boy ready to snap him in half with her teeth. This time, there would be no survivors and no one would escape. There would be a corpse, a body, a mid-day snack. First, the boy, then the sniveling hound. And if her fury was not satiated--

If there would only be more boys, more witches, more demigods, more traitors, more thieves, come to collect what was rightfully hers--

She would swallow Swynlake whole.

With a thunderous roar, she snapped her jaws right as the Dragon Boy ducked. He slipped below her jaw and then up toward the ceilings. The dragon’s snout crashed into the wall, shaking the entire cave. A cloud of dust blossomed through the air, dirt and rock raining down.

The dragon roared again and pushed off the wall. Fire erupted from her salivating mouth, a jet of it shooting down the cave toward the boy. And though he was small and agile, she would not let him escape. She’d learned from her skirmishes with the others--

The dragon smashed her entire massive body up into the ceiling, dislodging a line of stalagmites. They fell like knives and blocked the path of the thief, causing him to veer up again. But there was nowhere else to go.

There was just the dragon, the fire, and her gaping jaws.

Surrender now! She commanded him. Or I will burn you and the heart both!

JAKE

He heard his mom’s voice.

Not Gramps, chastising him and swatting a roll of newspaper at him. Not Fu, grumbling and mumbling and making sarcastic comments under his breath.

It was his mom he heard in the back of his head.

I’m disappointed.

There was nowhere to go -- just the dragon, only the dragon, her mouth wide, the teeth bared. Maybe if he had trained more, maybe if he had made some better plans, maybe if he had come earlier, maybe if he was just…

If he was just better. Not some half-Dragon mutt, whose mother was human-locked.

“KID!” Fu’s voice was barely discernible under the dragon’s roar.  “We gotta get outta here! Just drop it -- “

Jake looked straight on. There was only fire, only darkness -- she would kill him if he didn’t comply.

He drifted down from the air, landing on top of the pile of coins. His feet scrambled a little and a few of the treasures tumbled down, but he managed to steady himself and set the heart down gently. It was still warm.

“I’m sorry,” Jake whispered, to the flame that had spoken to him, not even sure if it heard. And he stepped aside, head ducked down, as he walked down the hill and towards the dragon.

It’s yours, he said. I surrender.

THE DRAGON:

Yes. Hers.

She’d claimed it. She had spent weeks and weeks guarding it, and before that, weeks and weeks waiting to claim it for herself. The witch had not been brave enough to act on the selfish wants of her own heart, but the dragon was not so weak. She still remembered how it beat in the palms of the witch’s hands. She tasted its magic even now, with smoke still billowing from her nostrils. That magic was why she found this cave and hid the heart deep within it. It was hers. Hers, hers, hers!

Enemies! Knights! Liars! Thieves! They all came for what she had earned.

Nobody, not even the wizard himself, deserved that heart-magic, which made it beat strong there upon the floor of her cave.

And the dragon realized that as long as it did beat, the heart would be vulnerable. Her enemies would be many and oh, they’d come. They’d come with wand, sword, or wit. They’d pretend to befriend her. They’d betray her inevitably-- even Diablo was no friend to the dragon, even Soleil would eventually hunger for the heart-magic too. The only friends the dragon ever had died long ago. Her kin was near extinct. There was no one to trust, no one but herself.

Herself, and the heart. Mine mine mine.

She would swallow it whole and then it would always be hers.

Then watch, Dragonling, hissed the dragon. She swept toward the beating heart. It beat faster, thrumming alone and dirty on the cold ground. Watch and spread my message to the rest of the forest. There will be no more Heart of Howl Pendragon. His death rests on your shoulders.

“NO!” cried a voice in the cave. Was it the insipid fire demon? The boy’s Guardian? She didn’t care. She relished in the protestation. And when the wizard fell limp, she would burn him until he was nothing but bones.

The flames caught in her mouth again. Mine mine mine--

Then deep within, the witch opened her eyes.

The fire halted and the dragon suddenly threw her head back as though she’d been struck by an invisible hammer. She jerked again. A strange cry, reedy and thin, slipped from between her teeth-- more human than beast. She wailed again and a spout of fire ejected from her maw up toward the roof of the cave as the fire sprouted like flowers between her scales.

And as quickly as it began, it ended, and through the smoke sat a naked woman, her eyes glinting ruby red. She reached for the heart and then stood slowly, on legs that felt too small and thin after months wearing a dragon’s skin. But she found her balance and took one step, and then another, until she emerged through the smoke with her head lifted.

She clutched that beating hard so tightly, one might think her nail would puncture through. She clutched it, the magic thrumming its way through her veins as though it were her blood. It was why her eyes still glowed red. The dragon was still close, so close. (The dragon would always be close.)

“Howl,” she called to him. And the heart beat quicker, calling for the wizard too.

JAKE

His head was ducked down and he was prepared to begin his walk of shame towards the cave entrance. His own heart was pounding in his throat and he wasn’t ready to face Fu. He stood under the dragon, unable to meet its glowing red eyes.

He’d fucked up, he’d royally fucked up and --

There was a shout. Jake jerked his head up, unsure of where the noise came from then --

The dragon lurched and a spout of fire catapulted towards the . Jake yelped, jumping in the opposite direction. From deeper in the cave, Howl Pendragon ran towards them, arms outstretched, but the dragon shruddred and Howl collapsed on a pile of coins as a cloud of smoke enveloped them both.

Jake coughed, eyes straining to see through the smoke.

“Howl! Uh -- Dragon?!”

From the smoke emerged -- holy fuck was that Mel?! She was the dragon?!  She was holding the beating heart in her hand?! She was okay!  She was--naked.

Oh god she was naked.

Jake shifted immediately back into his human form (clothed) and covered his eyes.

“He’s behind you!” said Jake, fingers clamped. He reached out his other hand to point in the general direction, to Howl who was passed out on the ground, one arm dramatically thrown over his head, his golden hair spilling across the golden coins (Jake, of course, did not see all of this as he was very much not looking at Naked Melaenis).

“I think he heard the, uh, commotion and ran out after you but then, uh, I dunno he just sorta fainted I guess?!”

MELAENIS:

Melaenis moved, stumbling toward Howl’s collapsed body. And as she went, step by uneven step, as though she was relearning how to use her legs, the poem trickled back in…

...Go and catch a falling star…

Oh, but she had something so much better than a star cradled in the palms of her hand.

She knew what she had to do. It was as though no time had passed between now and that March midnight so long ago, when she’d first pulled this star from Calcifer’s embers. She blinked and saw Howl’s home and its floorboards and the runes she’d scrawled. The candles, the silly bookshoppe girl in the corner, Howl tied to the chair, unaware that he was but a pawn in a much bigger game than he could ever imagine.

And above all else, she remembered the heart. How it beat, how it sang, how it called to her. How the dragon roared in response.

Could she do it now? What had changed between then and today? Nothing, Mel knew. She arrived at Howl’s side, kneeling down with her knees pressing crescents into the dirt, and the dragon still lived inside of her. There was no fire demon or contract to break for Melaenis. It still hungered. Mel hungered. She paused over his body, holding his heart, and she still wanted it.

Gazing down at Howl’s sleeping face, he was beautiful just like this. Could he not stay like this-- a sleeping beauty, hidden in a witch’s cave?

Mel’s eyes softened and she tilted her head to the side like a bird, inspecting its egg. Gently, she removed some hair from his face.

The dragon burned and salivated, wrestling for control again. No-- that was not the dragon at all, but her own hunger. It was not a hunger for blood or for flesh.

Things would be different, when Melaenis’s sleeping beauty awoke.

No where / Lives a woman true, and fair, went the spell cast so long ago: a prophecy true. And the prophecy had spoken right if Mel was supposed to be the prophesied woman. She’d doubted herself the last time, but now in the damp cavelight, covered in soot, she realized it was always supposed to be this way. Howl had found his deceitful woman, and she had betrayed him as the poem had said, just as she betrayed her master before him, and her father before that. It was only Melaenis who was wicked enough to hold a heart wrapped in wicked magic this long-- and live.

“Let’s see if the rest of it is true, my darling,” she whispered to Howl and Howl alone. And very gently, she pressed the heart into Howl’s chest.

Blood spilled-- blood, and then bright, otherworldly fire. Mel felt the heat of it, but she felt the beating of the heart much longer, even after the flames had died and there was no more heart.

Still, it beat-- it beat, for it was in Howl’s chest. Mel’s fingers spread over Howl’s skin, and she marveled at the sound, the beating stronger and stronger until, at last, Howl opened his eyes.

HOWL:

He gasped.

The first thing Howl noticed was how his chest ached. His torso had never felt like that before, all raw and aching and tender and heavy. It was almost suffocating, clawing at his rib cage, expanding outwards, stabbing him in the side.

A throaty groan escaped his lips. His eyes fluttered open, though everything was a blur

The second thing Howl noticed was the sound. A thump, thump, thump, de-thump. It was in his ears. In his throat. In his chest. In his fingertips. It echoed in his brain. Thump-thump-thump-de-thup. He wanted it to stop. He was not used to it. He wanted it out.

His vision grew clearer. He could make out a figure, peering down at him.

The third thing Howl noticed was Melaenis.

Mel -- his Mel, not the dragon, not the creature of blood and fire who had burst through on that March night so long ago. His Mel, naked and standing over him, her brows knit together, ash over her face -- just like the first moment they’d met.

“Mel,” he croaked, then slapped a hand over his heart. “What the dickens -- what --”

He sat up as much as he could, reaching for her, cupping a hand under her chin, and the heaviness, the thump-de-thump, he realized what was going on and --

“Calcifer!” he cried, snapping his head, trying to scan for the fire demon.

There was a whoop, an exclamation of excitement, and a orange burst of flame catapulted through the cave and landed right between Howl and Mel, sparks flying everywhere. Neither of them was singed though and Calcifer’s flames grew and grew, engulfing the two sorcerers.

“You did it!” said Cal. “And I’m still here -- do you know how flippin’ rare that is?!”

“An old wives’ tale,” said Howl, “says that every so often, when a demon bond is broken, the demon can still stay around.” He pressed a hand to his heart, marveling at how it felt, how heavy it was in his chest.

He looked at Mel now, and that heaviness in his chest turned to lightness and it was such a lightness he’d never felt, almost as if his heart was going to inflate like a balloon and take him far away from here. He let out a suprised laugh, then leaned forward (Calcifer between them), kissing Melaenis on the mouth.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” said a voice, and Howl lifted his head slightly to see the Dragon boy a few meters away. “I guess everythings -- we did it?! I mean you did it!”