Thirsting Coyote. The rebel leader was furious when he discovered that the princess had escaped and had killed one of his scouts. The rebels were tracking her, but he suspected she might be near Kyklax, the Bone Splitter's lair, a fierce black dragon known for ambushing tribe members and tearing them apart. Confident that his tribe had solved the dragon problem, Thirsting Coyote smiled inwardly, knowing the rebels had located and poisoned the dragon’s watering hole earlier. Since no one had seen the dragon for weeks, he believed it was much weakened or dead. Today, Coyote seemed likely to find out, as the tracker had finally reached Kyklax’s lair, and the princess’s footprints led directly inside.
Near freezing, the princess contemplated taking the potion, which would only delay death for a few moments. Sagira needed to find somewhere warmer to dry off and change out of the wet clothes before consuming the potion. Though it felt like hours, only a few minutes passed before Sagira almost missed a large open cave entrance, inviting the princess inside. Ignoring her initial fears and understanding her fate, she stumbled into the cave, seeking warmer shelter from the harsh weather.
Upon entering, Sagira immediately noticed three things. First, the cave was as cold and wet as the outside. Second, Sagira saw she was standing on a treasure mound that filled the entire cave. Third, her gaze was drawn to an incredible sight at the back: a dragon, about the size of a large hunting lodge, cloaked in shadows. Its barely visible body heaved with labored breaths, clearly sick and likely near death. The dragon's glowing purple eyes fixated on her, and its foul breath drifted from its mouth, carving small holes into the earth around it and revealing its oversized teeth. Watching such a formidable creature, known for its cruelty, reduced to this pitiful state, broke something inside the Princess. Despite its fearsome reputation, she realized that witnessing its helplessness was heartbreaking and understood that her life was at significant risk.
Princess Sagira, disregarding her safety, staggered toward the vulnerable creature and pulled out her only hope—the potion. Then she looked at the dragon, uncorked the potion, sank to her knees, and poured the sweet-smelling liquid into the dragon's mouth with her last strength. The dragon's head snapped up quickly, locking its intense gaze with hers. “Why,” was all the princess heard, but she couldn't tell if her shaking was from sheer terror or the cold. She was utterly exhausted, refusing to let herself sleep or die, so she shouted, "Can’t you hear them outside? They’re here to kill us!” The dragon’s head lifted higher, and a harsh edge crept into its voice, “So the monkeys have grown bold." Then the dragon lowered its head back to her level: “You will not die until I determine your fate."
While it spoke, numerous torches and braziers inside the cave flickered to life, casting shadows that danced like eerie phantoms. A giant claw extended, removing her remaining wet garments, while its tail curled around her like a serpent, effortlessly lifting her and setting her down on a hidden settee in a dry part of the cave. Then, like a shadow fading before dawn, the princess watched as the massive dragon form disappeared into the darkness, and she heard the flapping of hundreds of bats as they took flight into the night. Just before losing consciousness, the screaming began.
Sagira closed her eyes and covered her ears from the overwhelming sounds of battle outside. Unsure whether it was the shock and stress of her situation or the comfort of her bed, warmed by the nearby fire, that made her doze off briefly, she was suddenly startled awake by the realization that she was sleeping in a dragon’s den, surrounded by men eager to kill her. She sat up, resolved to devise a plan to escape the chaos. Silence was her only greeting, broken only when a formidable, surreal warrior appeared—dressed in carefully crafted black armor, a purple sash, and a crimson cloak. His imposing figure was decorated with intricate patterns that exuded strength and authority. Long black hair framed a ghostly face, with exaggerated lips smeared with a shimmering black substance that dripped against a pale complexion, hinting at a grim smile. His dark, striking eyes, tinted purple and hollow, stared intently at her. In his mighty hand, he held a large, well-worn blade covered in splattered blood and gore.
In a deep, resonant voice, he declared, “Princess, you are safe; you can stay here until the weather clears, and you are well rested.” His tone and the color of his eyes suggest it was Kyklax. Holding the sheets tightly to protect herself, she politely asked, “Forgive my confusion, sire; I do not understand what is happening. Where is the dragon? Am I a prisoner? And who are you?” A brief flicker of annoyance crossed the knight's face. “Do not make me regret this decision with your games.” He turned to leave suddenly, remarking, “Know that you are as safe as you can be until you are not.” That was the last she saw of him for hours. Later that day, a modest meal was laid out for her, and he sat opposite her in simple leather attire, attempting to make small talk. However, he was uncomfortable in social situations, so she engaged in general knowledge and gossip until she found topics that interested him. This continued for several days during the storm, and he even became more animated about some sorcery topics Sagira had mentioned. Over the days, she found him to be boorish, brash, vain, and harsh; yet he was also very inquisitive, intelligent, and passionate.
