I am Xiao Fang. One of the last of my kind. Centuries ago, there were many of us. We roamed the earth. We ruled the skies. Men feared us.
Now I fear man.
Three months ago, I breathed fire for the first time. Soon I will shift for the first time. I wish I had my wings now so I could escape. And fly home.
With a black pen, I slowly draw a Chinese word on a sheet of white paper. The man with the golden mask has given me several black markers and reams of paper. He has given me children’s books with pictures and words. Each day, I am to learn how to write a new word, he says, so we will be able to communicate.
As a dragon shifter, I cannot speak. My throat is designed for fire, not words. The women who raised me in Beyul-La spoke Tibetan and Chinese, so I understand those languages. They taught me how to write a few words. Two of them had the gift of communicating with winged creatures, so they could read my thoughts, as I could read theirs. Queen Nima and Winifred. They were like mother and sister to me. And then there was Norjee, the mortal boy who could talk to me in my mind. I called him my brother.
I finish writing the word, then set it next to the other papers I have written. They all say the same thing.
Home.
I pace about the small room. We are in a new place now, completely underground. Last night, someone tried to kill the man with the golden mask—Master Han, he calls himself. He teleported me here, where he claims we will be safe. He will protect me from the evil vampires and shifters. I should trust him, he says. He will let no harm come to me, for I am special.
I am a prisoner. I have all the food I could want. I have clothes and a warm bed. But the door is always locked. When I am allowed to wander about the camp, I am closely guarded.
Some of the guards take pity on me. During the day, when Han is not awake and watching, they bring me freshly baked bread. One officer named Wu Shen gave me a roll of tape, so I started taping my written pages on a wall in my small room. I have four rows now that stretch across the wall. With nothing else to do, I start a fifth row. Soon the wall will be completely covered with the same word.
Home.
I have been to many different camps in the last two months. The guards are always the same. They wonder why Master Han wears a mask. During the day, when Han locks himself up for his death-sleep, it is safe for them to speculate. Some say he wears the mask to hide a hideously disfigured face. Disease or fire, they say, and it must have happened before he became a vampire. Some claim he is simply ugly as a reflection of his evil soul. Others argue that cannot be, for no one is more evil than the demon Darafer, and he is fair of face.
I believe Master Han wears the mask to hide his many faces. There is the face he adopts for me. Kind, caring, gently spoken. He wishes to keep me safe. He will take care of me. His words are always warm, but his eyes are cold. I am unsure whether to trust him.
There is the face he uses when he addresses his army. He is fearless, masterful, in charge. When I see it, I believe he is strong. I am tempted to trust him.
Then there is the face that reacts whenever there is trouble from the evil vampires and shifters. He claims they are persecuting him for no reason. They want him dead. He doubles the guard and goes into hiding. When I see this, I believe he is weak. I know not to trust him.
When his soldiers are defeated, he screams in rage and his men cower, for he will seize a man and take him into his private room for feeding. We can hear the man scream before he grows quiet. Then Han returns with the dead body, ripped to shreds and sucked dry. When I see this face, I fear him.
I complete the fifth row of papers taped to the wall just as I hear the lock being turned. I have no windows in this underground lair, but I sense it is nighttime. Han visits me every night, so I step away from the wall and steel my nerves.
The door opens. He stands in the doorway, and the candlelight in my room makes his golden mask gleam. He enters, and the guards close the door.
His cold eyes inspect me while he speaks softly, his voice laced with kindness. “How are you today, son? Did you sleep well? Do you have enough to eat?”
I bow my head in greeting, wishing he wouldn’t call me “son.”
“Did you learn to write any new words?” He glances toward the wall, and his body stiffens.
I feel the anger growing inside him, and I step back.
“Why do you persist in this nonsense?” His hands curl into fists as he turns back to face me. “Why can’t you do as I ask? I take good care of you. I told you to trust me!”
He lifts a hand as if to strike me, and I flinch. This is the angry face that I fear. I have seen men die when Han is like this.
His fist shakes, as if he is fighting for control. Then, with a growl, he attacks the wall, ripping the papers down. “How many times do I have to tell you? Your home is gone! I’m all you have left now.” He turns to me, his eyes glowing with rage. “If you want to live, you will trust me.”
Tears sting my eyes. I am tired of being alone, tired of being afraid. I am tempted to give in. Give up. He will be kind to me if I give up.
My head hangs in shame, and my gaze falls on the torn papers scattered across the floor. Home.
How can I give up my home, my heritage? Anger burns in my chest and simmers through my veins. I am dragon. I belong with my own kind. My dragon brother and sister, Huo and Chu, are still in Beyul-La. More eggs are waiting to hatch. I am the oldest. I will be their leader.
I snatch a paper off the floor and show it to Han. Home.
He rips it from my hands. “Your home is gone!”
A tear rolls down my face as I grab another paper and lift it to my chest. Home.
“You stubborn—” Han growls, then walks away a few feet. His hands clench and unclench, then abruptly he turns to me. “Fine. I’ll take you there. You can see for yourself.”
My heart lurches with hope. He’ll take me home?
He grabs hold of my arms, and everything goes black.
When we land, my nostrils fill with the familiar scent of home—crisp mountain air, pine trees. The sky is clear, lit up with a trillion stars and a moon almost one-third full.
But no one has come to greet me. We have landed by the central fire pit, and it is cold. I spin about, surveying the valley. The houses are destroyed. My breath catches in my chest. Where are the warrior women of Beyul-La? This has been their valley for thousands of years. They would never give it up. They have a sacred pact with the dragons.
“The women are gone,” Han says. “If any of them are still alive, then they abandoned you.”
I shake my head and run toward the sacred mountain. The women will be in there. Norjee will be there, along with Huo, Chu, and the eggs. I look up, expecting to see the top of the sacred mountain covered with snow.
It is gone. I stumble to a stop. How? How could a mountain disappear?
“It happened after we left,” Han says as he approaches me. “I brought you here so we could rescue your dragon brothers and sisters. When the evil vampires and shifters trapped us inside the mountain, I knew it wasn’t safe, and I teleported you out. I was injured. A knife in my back from one of the evil ones. But still I managed to get you out in time.”
I gasp for air. I have a vague memory of being trapped inside with screaming soldiers. But what happened to the women? To Huo and Chu and the eggs?
“The evil ones blew it up.” Han stands beside me, pointing at what used to be the sacred mountain. “Look at it. Nothing left but a pile of rubble. No one could survive that. Those bastards murdered my soldiers. Everyone inside the cave died. The women of Beyul-La. The dragons.”
I stumble back as if I have been struck across the face.
“You would be dead, too, if I hadn’t saved you.” Han turns toward me. “Your home is gone. The dragons are dead. You are the last of your kind.”
My body shakes so hard that I crumble to my knees. The last of my kind. How can this be? How can I bear it? My brother and sister gone. The eggs gone. Norjee gone. My mortal mother and all the women who raised me—gone.
I am alone. Alone, the word echoes in my mind, and I grasp my head in pain. I open my mouth to cry out, but no sound can emerge.
Alone. Alone. My skin grows hot. Heat gathers in my chest, then sizzles up my throat. Smoke escapes from my nostrils. I want to scream fire.
“I’m sorry.” Han reaches out to touch my shoulder but quickly jerks his hand back.
The heat of my skin has burned him.
“You should have trusted me,” he growls. “It would have spared you the pain of having to see this.”
I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest, resting my head on my knees. Last of my kind. I can live for five hundred years. I will be alone for a long time.
“Your home is with me now,” Han says. “I will take care of you.”
Is there any point in resisting? My despair runs deep. I might as well give up.
He lies, a voice slips into my head. It is soft, but insistent. He lies.
I lift my head. Is someone speaking to me? Who are you? Where are you?
Movement in the sky catches my attention, and I see a large bird land on the branch of the nearest tree. It is an owl. Queen Nima’s owl!
Where is my mother? I ask the owl. Where are my brother and sister? Are they truly dead?
The queen left before the mountain was destroyed, the owl answers. She took Huo and Chu with her. And the eggs.
I scramble to my feet, my heart beating fast. Where are they?
Far away where they will be safe, the owl tells me. After you were taken, two of the eggs hatched. The vampire woman, Emma, bonded with the babies and took them far away so they would be safe.
I am not alone. Tears run down my face and cool my hot skin.
“I know this must be upsetting for you,” Han grumbles. “Let’s go back now. To your real home.” He reaches out for me, but I step back.
Is Norjee nearby? Or any of the women? I ask the owl. Can you find them for me?
I believe they left with the tiger shifters. The owl cocks his head. If I ask the eagles, they might know where the tigers live.
Find them, I urge the owl. Find Norjee. He can talk to you. I am being held in an underground camp. I know not where it is. I will call the birds that live close by so they can tell you where I am located.
The owl rustles its wings. It has been boring since everyone left. I am proud to be of service again.
Thank you, I tell the bird as it flies away.
“Let’s go home.” Han grabs my arm. “I hope you learned your lesson, that you can trust me.”
I nod my head, my shoulders slumped as if I have surrendered. But inside I am filled with hope. I will escape. I am dragon.
And I am not alone.