The Damsel and the Dragon

Chapter twelve, finale: save the Dragon

Night fell, casting long shadows across the room. Exhaustion finally claimed Bastien, and he drifted off to sleep. His dreams were filled with flashes of the battle, the roar of the dragon, and Eonla's determined eyes. He woke with a start, sweat clinging to his skin.

He looked around the room. It was empty. A gnawing worry twisted in his gut. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his arm, he threw back the covers and stumbled to his feet.

He had to get to Eonla. He had to know if she was alright.

With newfound determination, he maneuvered his way out of the tower room and down the winding staircase. The castle was eerily quiet, the only sounds his ragged breaths and the creaking of the old floorboards.

He didn't know where the Dragonhold was, but he knew he had to find it. He wandered through corridors, his heart pounding in his chest. Finally, he stumbled upon a group of guards huddled together, their voices hushed.

"Excuse me," Bastien croaked, his voice hoarse. "Where is the Dragonhold?"

The guards turned, their faces surprised.

"Young master," one of them said hesitantly. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

"I need to see the dragon," Bastien insisted. "It's important."

The guards exchanged worried glances. Finally, one of them stepped forward.

"The Dragonhold is not a place for the likes of you, young master," he said gently. "It's a dangerous place."

"I don't care," Bastien spat. "Just tell me where it is."

Seeing his desperation, the guard sighed. "It's on the west side of the castle, past the abandoned gardens." He pointed down a dark corridor. "But please, young master, reconsider."

Bastien didn't need any more convincing. He thanked the guard and hurried down the corridor, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

The abandoned gardens were a desolate place, overgrown with weeds and shrouded in darkness. The air hung heavy with an unsettling silence. Bastien pushed forward, his hand wrapped around the hilt of the small dagger strapped to his leg.

The massive, imposing structure loomed before him, carved from dark, forbidding stone. Its ominous presence sent shivers down Bastien's spine, but his determination to find Eonla outweighed his fear.

He took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs, and pushed open the heavy oak door. It groaned in protest, echoing through the cavernous chamber beyond.

Inside, the air hung thick and stale, heavy with the smell of damp stone and something metallic. A single torch sputtered on the wall, casting long, flickering shadows across the vastness of the Dragonhold.

There, in the center of the chamber, chained to a massive stone pillar, was a magnificent creature. Its scales, once vibrant shades of emerald and gold, were now dull and dusty. Its mighty wings, once capable of stirring up storms, lay folded against its back, seemingly clipped by heavy iron shackles. It was a heartbreaking sight – a majestic creature reduced to a prisoner.

But even in its subdued state, Bastien recognized his unlikely friend.

"Eonla," he whispered, his voice echoing in the silent chamber.

At the sound of his voice, the dragon's head snapped up. Its golden eyes, once filled with fierce intelligence, were now clouded with pain and exhaustion. Yet, a flicker of recognition ignited within them.

A low growl rumbled in the dragon's throat, a sound that vibrated through the very bones of the chamber.

"Bastien," Eonla rasped, her voice weak but filled with a hint of warmth. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here."