Stefan
Wheeling high above the steely blue of the ocean, Stefan stretched his wings to their maximum capacity, feeling the meager sunlight against the scales of his back.
It was a risk to be out like this in this form – maybe too much of a risk. But the sun came out so rarely here that he just couldn’t resist the dragon’s urges to feel its heat, weak though it may have been. Weak, at least, compared to what the dragon desired.
The dragon hungered for warmth; it was in its nature to bask beneath the sun’s rays, absorbing as much as it could, delighting in the way they heated its golden-red scales. But any such feeling was by now just a distant memory from Stefan’s childhood – the last time he’d truly felt warmth, of any kind.
The memories of his childhood – such as they were – at last overcame the dragon’s wishes to be free, to feel the wind stretching its wings and the sun on its back. It growled as his human mind began urging it back toward the gray cliffs, covered in deep green trees.
You can’t stay out here. You know you can’t, he told his dragon as it continued its protests, snapping its jaws into the wind.
Honestly, he couldn’t blame it for being upset. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to shift – to let the dragon free to feel the wind under its wings, the earth beneath its claws?
Too long. It wasn’t natural for a shifter to stay for such a long time in one form. Eventually, they would start to forget the other side of their natures. If he pushed the dragon’s wishes down inside him for too long, he was worried that one day, it might not come when he called at all.
But I can never stay this way for too long, he thought as he folded his wings, the dragon now reluctantly accepting his human mind’s commands.
It was too risky for him to stay in this form for any real length of time. Not when it would make it all too easy for him to be found. Not when he ought to have died years ago, along with the rest of his clan.
He was the last of his kind. The last of the Novak Clan.
There were other dragons left in the world, of course. But he was the last of his bloodline. His lineage went back centuries – but now, it would die with him.
Folding his wings, he began to descend toward the cliffs at an enormous speed. It was the kind of stunt that, when he was young, his mother had scolded him about.
Her voice was just a distant echo in his head, now. But he could still hear her, telling him and his cousins not to risk their necks on foolish aerodynamics they weren’t old enough for yet. You’ll give me a heart attack, do you want that? Do you really?
Even as she’d told them off, Stefan had seen the twinkle in her eye that let him know she was secretly proud of them – proud of their fearlessness and daring. It was part of being a dragon: a dragon knew no fear. There was nothing on earth that could harm a dragon.
Except, of course, for other dragons.
Pain stitched itself deep into Stefan’s heart as he dove, the wind whistling past him, tugging at his body. At the last possible second, he unfurled his wings once more, banking sharply just before the hard gray of the cliff face. He rose upward, coming to rest on its edge, his long talons gripping the rock steadily.
In the air, his dragon form was graceful, almost light, despite his huge size. But on the land – especially heavily wooded land like this – it became somewhat ungainly. Dragons – or at least, the kind of dragon that he was – were far more suited to wide, open spaces than woodlands. The Novak Clan’s ancestral lands had always been around the desert, where they could bask in the sun and move about mostly unimpeded, soaring between the mesas before curling up in canyons to take shelter from the night. Cold, dense woods were the last place a dragon should be.
Which is exactly why I’m here, Stefan reminded himself as he shifted back into his human form. Because it’s the last place anyone would look for me.
Despite the sun’s rays, up here on the cliffs the wind bit into the delicate skin of his human body, making him shiver. Reaching down, he began pulling on the clothes he’d hidden by a tree before shifting – a white t-shirt, a flannel coat with sheepskin lining, and beat-up old jeans that had seen better days. If anyone saw him here in the woods, they’d just assume he was any old hiker, out for a day’s walk.
Locked back away inside his human body, his dragon snorted angrily, flaring its nostrils and flexing its long claws. It was frustrated: its freedom had been all too brief, and it knew instinctively that it’d be a while until he allowed it out again.
I know, and I’m sorry, he said as he began to hike back through the trees, away from the cliffs. But you know why things have to be this way.
The dragon snorted again, puffing out hot breath and a little smoke. It was pissed.
Stefan did his best to ignore it, but carrying an angry dragon around inside him wasn’t exactly easy, even at the best of times. Make that an angry, lonely dragon, who hadn’t been around its own kind in years.
And then there was the fact that, as he was all too aware, his twenty-fifth birthday was fast approaching: the cut-off date for a dragon to find their mate.
The dragon knew it too – and every passing day felt like a noose tightening around his neck.
Stefan shoved his hands deep down into his pockets as he walked. It’s impossible, he thought. It didn’t matter how lonely he was – or worse, that it meant his line would die with him. The knowledge tore at his heart. But he also knew he couldn’t risk it.
Finding his mate would only place her in danger. And he had vowed that he would never do that.
The same ones who had killed his family and destroyed his clan wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to him, if they ever managed to find him. And needless to say, his mate, and whatever children they had, wouldn’t escape the slaughter. The blood feud between the Novak dragon clan and the Lukich dragon clan wouldn’t end until one line was completely and utterly destroyed. The only reason he was still alive today was because Erik Lukich, the head of the enemy clan, didn’t know where to find him.
It was the reason he was alone here, and the reason he didn’t dare spend too much time in his dragon form. If they were to find him, then his clan really would be dead and gone for all time.
Not that it would make any difference, if you don’t find our mate, his dragon snarled at him, its eyes glittering.
Stefan swallowed. He knew the dragon was right. One way or another, there would soon be nothing left of the Novak Clan.
I know, he told the dragon, as he clenched his fists. But can we really put our mate in so much danger? You know what would happen if they found us…
The dragon lowered its head, anger simmering. I’d tear anyone who tried to hurt our mate apart.
It was true. Stefan knew that he would fight with every ounce of strength he possessed to protect his mate. But sometimes, that wasn’t enough.
His own family had tried to fight – and one by one, they had been killed. He was only here because he’d been young enough for his mother to hide him – he had been too young and small for anyone to expect him to fight. His mother had brought him here, and told him not to come out until she came back for him.
Only, she never had. Stefan had never seen her again – not since the day she’d hidden him in a cave right here in these woods, along with the small part of the Novak Clan’s hoard she’d been able to sneak away with.
Stefan was deep within the cover of the trees now, far off any path that went through these woods. He knew the way by heart – he didn’t even have to stop to look for landmarks anymore.
The sound of running water soon reached his ears, and one of the small rivers that ran through here came into view. A waterfall cascaded over the mossy dark gray rocks in front of him, totally obscuring the entrance to a small cave.
Ducking beneath a low-hanging bough, Stefan slid his body between the flowing water and the slippery rocks, and into the darkness of the cave beyond.
The light was low, but Stefan, thanks to the heightened senses of his dragon, could see well in the dark. Anyone who looked at his eyes right now might have noticed their unearthly green glow as he called on his dragon to guide him through the darkness, but there was no one here to see.
As he rounded a slight corner, he found what he’d come here for.
His hoard. The Novak Clan’s hoard – or what was left of it, anyway. What had once been one of the largest collections of gold and jewels in the world was now little more than a small mound – still priceless beyond measure, but only a meager portion of what it had once been.
Even in the dimness of the cave, the gold gave off a gentle glow, the jewels glittering in what little light could break through the curtain of water and find its way to the back of the cave. Sapphires, emeralds, rubies and diamonds of every hue; the crowns of long-dead emperors and kings; golden boxes studded with precious stones; jewelry that had once been worn by queens and high priestesses.
Lifting a delicate gold and diamond tiara in his hands, Stefan looked down at it, running his fingers over its surface. Though the metal was cold, he felt a thrill of electricity run through him at the contact: this was how dragons recharged themselves after long periods of activity. Contact with their hoards made them strong, and gave them renewed vitality. Most dragons slept with their gold, drawing strength from it in the night before waking, their energy restored, ready to spread their mighty wings and take flight.
But in this case, this wasn’t why Stefan was touching the tiara. It was the piece he had once imagined that he would crown his mate with, before he’d realized just how impossible that had become.
He alone couldn’t hope to fight off the entire Lukich Clan. Which was what he’d have to do if ever they found him. And he’d realized that, if he wanted to keep his mate – wherever she was, whoever she was – safe from harm, it would be better for her if he never found her.
Not that there’s much chance of ever finding her, he thought to himself with a wry smile. It wasn’t like his mate was going to come walking through the woods and into his arms.
It was better this way, he tried to tell himself as he gently placed the tiara back down with the rest of his hoard.
His skin felt warm, the proximity to his treasures making him tingle from head to toe. Despite the amount of energy flying had taken up, he felt refreshed.
Stefan’s dragon, however, usually soothed when in contact with its precious collection, still seemed agitated. It flexed its talons, snapping its jaws and extending its wings, glancing about as if searching for danger.
What is it? Stefan asked it, mildly irritated. Use your words, for goodness’ sake.
I don’t know, the dragon replied, its voice drifting back to him – part of him, and yet, also somehow separate from him too. But there’s… something. Something different.
Stefan paused, glancing over his shoulder to the entrance of the cave. Is it dangerous?
Not sure yet. Maybe. But… then again…
The dragon’s voice drifted away from him as it tucked its wings close to its body, lowering its head to rest on its claws.
It closed its bright green eyes, and Stefan realized it was done with talking to him.
He felt unsettled. Danger could mean only one thing: the Lukich Clan. But the dragon hadn’t seemed convinced it was danger that it was sensing.
Its senses would be stronger after spending time with the hoard, Stefan reasoned – but the unease wouldn’t leave him.
What could it be? he asked himself as he settled back against the pile of gold, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the cave.