I rise from the throne, straightening to my full height. I've grown about a foot in stature and now stand only a head shorter than Trav and Conyac. I look down at my hands. My fingers are long and slender; my skin is sleek and flawless.

"How?" I say, looking at Gizmel. My voice is smooth and deep, my sight sharper. I can feel something coil inside me, in the depths of my brain and belly. It slithers behind the shadows of what I know as me.

"The Mirror lifted the enchantment. It must have been the components of the crystalline structure..." Gizmel goes on with his theory of how the crystal lifted the spell, but I am too distracted to hear him. My senses have become ultra keen, and I am overwhelmed by the bombardment of information that is pounding through my eyes, ears, and skin. I need to be alone, in the dark and quiet. Even my clothing feels constrictive.

"Hammon," I state authoritatively. "Take me to the royal chambers. I need to rest."

"Yes, lady," Hammon says, scurrying up to me. He reaches out his hand for me to take as he helps me down from the raised floor where I stand. I follow him into the entry hall.

Conyac and Trav are at my heels, but I turn to them and stare them down before following Hammon up the stairs. We climb to a hallway, and Hammon hurries to open a set of double doors. I stride through the double doors into a massive chamber. There is a huge bed waiting for me there; everything is clean and fresh within.

"Send Uria to me. I need to get out of these clothes," I tell him. Somehow, my confidence level has just shot through the roof. I've never felt so powerful in my life. However, behind the confidence, I feel a sense of melancholy and loss.

I sit on the bed, the mattress soft and yielding like the highest quality memory foam. Uria comes through the door a few moments later and curtsies. It doesn't bother me as much now. It feels appropriate. I've never been a person who believed in pecking orders or hierarchies but somehow I feel it is just and right that these people should serve me. Strange.

"Help me undress, Uria. I need to get out of these tight clothes."

"Yes, your highness," she says as she hurries to help me get out of the constraining garments. A few moments later, I'm in my loose-fitting underthings. Uria helps me into bed and draws the curtains for me before leaving me in silence. I am so relieved to be left alone that tears begin to well up from deep within. They flow from my eyes, which I know have changed. I can't bring myself to look in the mirror for fear of what I will see.

I run my tongue over my teeth and sure enough, I feel the sharp points of my canines. They have elongated half an inch. Oh my god, I’m a vampire.

Shudders of despair rack my body as I weep for my losses––my past, my humanity, my parents, the birth parents and my adoptive ones. My entire sense of self is fragmenting, and I don't know if my already broken psyche can take it. I think back to the war and the atrocities I've seen.

Not only does it make me feel more broken than ever, I have the new sense that I was somehow a coward. I weep anew, my entire body shaking with despair. I don't know if I can get myself out of this. There is nothing for me to hold onto emotionally. Everyone is a stranger, and my entire reality feels like a bad drug trip.

I don't want this. I don't want to be dragon born. I don't want to be the princess of Endor. I don't want to marry one of these strange, dominating men. I want to go home with my dog and take pictures of wild flowers for the rest of my life.

I can't do this. I decide I'll tell them I'm resigning. I never expected there to be any proof I was the princess. I expected it to be a mistake. I was going to find a way back to Earth and live out my life as if this whole thing was a bad dream or a broken memory to be filed alongside everything that happened to me in Iraq.

My doors swing open, and I sit up in bed. In the darkness, I see the outline of two massive men. No. Unacceptable.

"How dare you enter my rooms without my permission?" I bellow, my voice still quivering.

"Lady," I hear Trav say. I can see him clearly even in the darkness. "We heard you weeping. What can we do to help?"

"Let us help you, princess," Conyac says.

"The first thing you can do is respect my privacy. Now get out!"

They sigh and groan, but they reluctantly leave. I flop back down on my pillow, anger burning in my breast. Part of me wants to fly at them and bite their heads off, literally. Ouch. That's a new one. Where did that come from? The slithering, coiling energy inside me roars, and I know at once what it is.

My dragon.

My tears dry up instantly as I focus on the beast inside me. The more I focus on her, the stronger she grows. Immense power burns in my belly and brain, clawing and growling for a release. She wants to burn, to fly, to devour. She wants to rule. Goosebumps spring up on my arms and chest. My nipples tighten as I focus on the monstrous energy within.

Was this here all along? Was it there when I was a farm kid in Idaho? Was it there when I was lost it in the chaos of war? Was it there when I retreated from society with my dog? I can't even imagine that I could possibly have had this inside me all this time.

It doesn't seem possible that it is part of me. Even now, in Endor. I was kidnapped and held prisoner, or so I thought, and I've been at the mercy of these men since I arrived. Now, I'm suddenly their equal. It doesn't register as real to me. I can't get my head around it.

The dragon roars inside me at my stupidity. She shows me her teeth and claws and blows a gust of wind from her lungs that creates a kind of sonic boom inside my chest. I'm taken aback, my eyes wide, my tears dry. I stand from the bed and go to the nearest mirror to inspect myself.

There I stand, at least six feet tall, eyes glowing silver, teeth sharp, ears pointed. My features are similar but more refined, perfect, sharper. I'm beautiful. My body is longer, tighter, but I still have generous curves, even more generous in some ways, but my stomach feels tight with muscle; my arms are taut and strong. Holy shit! I'm a goddess!

I back away from the mirror, listening to the dragon inside me hissing at me to toughen up and get myself together. She hates weakness in herself. In me. She won't tolerate it. It brings shame to our family name. I am Princess Dolomane of Skyland. I am the hope of my people.

Empowering thoughts fill my brain with the fierceness of a preying eagle. I clutch my chest as I stand, slack jawed in the center of the room, listening to the dragon within. She wants out. She insists I change now. Now. And fly over her homeland.

But I have no idea how to change. I don't want to. It sounds like it would hurt, and it terrifies me. My inner dragon hisses that I'm a massive pussy. She bites at me from within my own brain, and I feel like I'm losing my already splintered mind.

I climb under the blankets and cover my head, trying to get away from the snapping, hissing, clawing beast, but I can't. It's inside me. It won't go away.