Celo didn’t have to go to the capital city of Regalia to know that his brother Venero had triumphed in the Queen’s Grotto. He felt a shudder of relief pass through the land and knew his brother Urbanus was dead. He saw the dark fog rise from the valleys and felt the air clear, and knew his mother, Arcana, was dead. He awoke to find spring flowers blooming, the forest floor covered with yellow and white blooms, and knew Venero had taken the throne.

The old stories of the kingdom resonating with the truth of the king’s character were all true. Celo heard the creatures of the forest whisper to each other of new light and knew that the dragon princess Gemma was Venero’s queen.

It could have been the first spring ever. The sunlight was brighter. The new growth was greener. The birds’ songs were more beautiful and lasted longer. The forest abounded with new life and the skies were gloriously blue. Celo himself felt his heart lighten. He began to whistle again and to dream. His refuge had its pleasures but also its limitations.

The fact was that the short time he’d spent in Gemma’s company had made the deficit of his life painfully clear.

He missed the company of women. He missed how they laughed. He missed how pretty they were. He missed how he felt when a woman smiled at him or laughed at one of his comments. He missed that tingle of awareness and the sense of possibility. He began to notice the birds and animals in their courtship rituals and to feel the solitude of his refuge more keenly.

Gemma wasn’t for him, he knew that, but she wasn’t the only woman in the universe. He shaved the long growth from his chin and spared some coin for new clothes, then ventured into the local village.

To his surprise, he was welcomed.

To his further surprise, he found himself returning at intervals and looking forward to it. He told himself that it was because he no longer feared repercussions from his family, but it was more than that and he knew it.

It was in town that Celo heard the details about the glorious wedding and sumptuous coronation. As convinced as he had been that he’d never return to Regalia’s capital city again, Celo began to consider it. He knew that Venero and Gemma would welcome him, but something kept him from setting out for the castle.

Celo realized why one bright summer morning. He left his hut to fetch water from the stream, whistling as had become his habit.

“It is time,” said the raven he called Nix, sparing him a knowing look.

“You must go south,” said the hare, then sprang into the forest.

An owl descended and landed on his shoulder. Celo looked up at the bird, for it should have been asleep at this hour.

The owl winked. “You were born for this quest.”

Celo felt a strange sense that he’d been waiting for this very message. A quest? But to where? And why?

A flock of white birds took flight ahead of him, swirling together as if to draw his gaze. When they abruptly scattered, he found himself looking at the distant peak of Mount Draco, the highest peak on Regalia, its summit glittering with ice.

Celo’s heart stopped then raced again. He’d always been fascinated by the mountain and had been glad that the location of his refuge allowed him glimpses of its majesty. It had never been scaled. Indeed, few had ever ventured near it. It was too cold. Too high. Too distant. It was far beyond even the Queen’s Grotto, remote and unyielding.

And there were stories, tales of the winds around it being filled with the voices of ghosts, stories of men driven mad after just one night in its shadow, legends of fierce beasts that lived deep beneath the mountain’s roots.

Yet when the owl spoke to him, Celo recognized the truth. Mount Draco was his destiny, and now that the shadow had lifted from Regalia, it was time for him to embark upon the quest that might be his last.

He didn’t know what he would discover, either on the mountain or about himself. That was part of the adventure.

He stayed at the river only long enough to wash and drink, then he returned to his hut to pack his few belongings. It was early in the morning on a fine clear day.

Nix was right. It was time to go.