I wait until Xerxes leaves before pulling out my laptop and booting it up. Sure enough, there’s wifi, just like he said, and the password works. So, he wasn’t lying about that.

I know that I should eat something, and take a shower, but it’s what Xerxes suggested and it feels like he would be winning if I gave into that. Like I would be following his orders.

Yes, I know, I’m too stubborn for my own good. It was written repeatedly in the reports from foster families, the ones the social workers had to file as to why I wasn’t working out in yet another home. Not that I’m bitter, or anything.

I can’t wait a second longer to check this thing out. I get online and start emailing a few of my colleagues.

It’s probably weird of me to ask this of them, but I’m not going to get anywhere by being coy. I ask them all, separately, if there’s any way, any possibility, that dragons might exist.

I remember seeing a documentary a few years ago theorizing what it would be like if dinosaurs lived in the world today, and scientifically, how they might have gone extinct. I look it up and start playing it on my computer while I walk over to the kitchen and get something to eat.

I don’t want to, but damn, I’m too famished not to at this point. I just make a sandwich though, nothing fancy. I’m not going to make it seem like I’m comfortable here. Knowing Xerxes, he’ll take it as some sign that I want to live here forever and that he should keep giving me hugely expensive jewelry as random gifts.

The documentary has plenty of interesting ideas, but nothing concrete. It’s all speculation. Most of my colleagues don’t know anything either, but a few of them, mostly the older ones who’ve been in the field for decades, tell me I’m not the first person to ask them questions like this.

It’s a very prevalent myth in so many cultures throughout history, says one email. And it’s been consistent, or nearly so, across civilizations long before those civilizations had a chance to get into contact with one another and share mythologies. So, that’s always something that’s been wondered about. How did all these people who never spoke to one another all come up with the same mythological creature?

One or two of my other colleagues tell me to look up some articles that cite odd paleontological finds. We’ve never officially classified these bones. We want to say they’re dinosaurs but we’ve found too many discrepancies to do so with certainty. We’ve always joked they’re dragon bones, but…

I look up the finds, and start to go through the online archives at my university. J. Stor has three articles that all say something along the lines of, ‘we’re not saying dragons are real but what if they were’ kind of thing.

One of the article writers died five years prior but the other two are alive. One’s retired, the other works at a university in Germany.

I reach out to both of them.

While I’m waiting to hear back, I finally take a shower, getting all the soot and grime off of me. Xerxes has a much nicer bathroom, a much nicer house, than anything that I’m used to. The shower alone is huge. But, that’s not what stops me in my tracks when I first enter the bathroom.

The shower wall has a mosaic of a dragon on it.

It’s gorgeous, intricate and detailed, and clearly must have cost a fortune to have installed. But it’s not just the beauty of the artwork or the fact that it’s a dragon that has me staring.

It’s the same dragon I saw in the fire.

The scales are dark blue, purple, and red, like metal tempered in flame. It has an elongated snout, two rows of teeth, claws and a tail, and enormous wings.

There’s no way this is a coincidence. A dragon or two as decoration in Xerxes’ house? I could be paranoid. But this? This is absolutely the same creature that I saw through the forest trees. Absolutely.

A wild idea enters my head. If the dragon were just one of Xerxes’, uh, acquaintances, like Pete’s Dragon or something, I doubt he’d have a mosaic of it in his shower.

But, the dragon disappeared in the same spot that Xerxes then appeared, with only a few moments difference. And the dragon had intelligent eyes, human eyes but bigger, that were the same color as Xerxes’ unnaturally blue ones.

I’m not going to ask my colleagues about this. I don’t want to be the laughing stock of scientific circles, seen as off my rocker. I’m already pushing that envelope by asking them about dragons in the first place. The moment I’m out of the shower, I change into the spare outfit I’d thrown in to my bag, and head right back to the computer.

The more I dive into the internet and academia, the more hints I find that dragons could possibly exist. People are asking questions, presenting things that don’t add up. I’m not getting anything that definite, of course, but I think that might be because nobody wants to be the crazy person who says it first. Still, I am getting hints.

Nothing about dragons that can transform into people, though.

I could be losing my mind. I might be losing my mind. I’m not setting that thought aside entirely. I’ve been alone in the woods, for months until I nearly died in a fire. It could be that I’m starting to lose my grasp on reality.

Naw. I know what I saw. And, until I get definitive proof otherwise, I’m going to pursue this idea that dragons are real, that I saw one, and that Xerxes might even be one.

It would explain his damn weird behavior, anyway. If he’s a dragon person maybe he’s not used to interacting with human people? Could this be a Tarzan situation?

After a few hours, I get a response from the two people that I contacted. Both of them hint at having had suspicion of dragons existing.

Of course, no educated man or woman of science would want to be the first to suggest it without proof, writes the one from Germany. Because maybe in fifty years they’ll be recognized as a pioneer but until then they’ll be a loony toon. Still, I see no concrete evidence either way. But some might arrive at it being a logical conclusion.

Basically, it sounds like they’re in the same boat that I am. You know what you’ve seen but you can’t quite prove it, and so you can’t say anything without being handed a straight jacket and relocated to a rubber room.

What I need is a primary source. A ‘primary source’ in academia is an actual historical piece of evidence on which one can build an article. So, it’s a bone, or a letter written in the 14th century, or some definitive piece of evidence. Another scientific article is a ‘secondary source’.

I need a primary source, tangible evidence, if I’m really going to wholeheartedly believe in this. Without that, I would dare show it to my colleagues. Not that I’m planning on that. Whoever spreads the news of this will get a crap ton of attention in the academic world, to say nothing of the rest of the world, and I don’t want any of that. I’m happy not being noticed, thanks.

But just for my own peace of mind, I need something more than whispers and hints, the ‘maybe’ and ‘possibly’ that everyone is peppering their sentences with.

The question is, how do I get this information? I can’t. At least, not in any way that I know of.

I put away my computer and go to see what’s in the library. If Xerxes is a dragon, then he’s probably got some books on the subject, right? Probably nothing like Flying 101 or How to Cook with Fire Breath, but, you know, maybe Beowulf or something.

There’s a lot of books in this library. In fact, I’m rather tempted to just sit and read. There’s a fireplace in this room, too, with comfy armchairs in front of it. There’s also a sliding ladder for reaching the higher shelves. Something about the whole room just makes me want to curl up in it. I’ve always loved reading. Books were my friends growing up. Still are. I dreamed of having a personal library, back when I thought about having a permanent home. Since I don’t have a permanent home, I travel light for convenience’s sake.

But if I were to picture my dream library, this is pretty much it. There’s even a bay window with a window seat for me to curl up on. I can see the whole forest from here, or so it seems. I can easily imagine myself curled up in a blanket with hot chocolate during the cold winter months, watching the snow fall.

I shake myself out of it. What am I doing, picturing myself living here? What’s wrong with me?

But that’s the thing—this place feels like home to me. There’s a warm, woodsy scent to the place that I just want to curl up in. The decor feels like it’s something that I would select, if I were designing a home for myself. It’s in the woods, far from everyone else, but near a good service road if I have to go into town. There’s a library, a hot tub, and a well-stocked kitchen. Not to mention the gorgeous bathroom.

It’s like my dream home, the home that I never dared to imagine has come to life and is here just for me. I’ve got to really be losing my mind. This isn’t my home. This is the home of a weird, random firefighter who doesn’t seem to understand when someone wants him to back off. Not that I’ve straight up told him to back off. I’ve wanted to, but something keeps holding me back. I don’t understand it.

I’m so confused. My habits, my instincts, are telling me one thing. But it feels like my heart isn’t really following along. My heart is saying me something else, but it’s faint so I can shut it the hell up.

Focus, Rebecca, I remind myself. I turn and look at the bookshelves.

There’s all kinds of books up there, but there are definitely some dragon ones. Some of them are fantasy, like the A Song of Ice and Fire series—books that have dragons in them but are entirely fiction.

I see some classics as well, like St. George and the Dragon. There’s a couple books that are collections of fairy tales about dragons.

Yeah, Xerxes does have many books on the subject. But, there’s nothing that looks like it would actually have the kind of information that I need. It’s all just fantasy or speculative fiction. None of it is concrete evidence, a primary source.

I yawn. God, I’m tired. More tired than I think I wanted to admit. The adrenaline rush of the day is finally wearing off and I’m exhausted.

For some reason, I get the distinct impression that Xerxes would like me to take a nap in his bed, but no way am I doing that. One of us has to have boundaries and it’s clearly not him, so the task falls to me.

The window seat, however…

There’s a warm, fuzzy blanket on the couch in the living room. I take that and curl up on the window seat, which already has some fluffy pillows. I don’t know why, but I feel safe sleeping here. That’s not normal for me. But, I feel like no harm will come to me so long as I’m in this house. I know it’s stupid, but it’s almost like the house was waiting for me to show up and now that I’m here, it’s welcoming me.

Yeah, it is stupid.

This has been a weird day, to say the least. I shove out all my thoughts of Xerxes, and dragons, and all the rest, and just let sleep take me.

I’m out within moments.