King Beast - Vicious Flames

Chapter 36

The wind slapped and pushed me like thousands mocking hands.

From this high up, I could see the reign of cruelty and nothingness ruled by the lord of coldness I was leaving behind. I strained my neck to glance over my shoulder, my body securely gripped in the dragon's talon.

In the distance, the castle didn't seem that mean anymore, with its windows aglow with a soft blue light that flickered like distant stars.

My snicker was louder than the wind in my ears. "In your scaly face, Zerberus!" I shouted like the lunatic I had become.

The dragon veered to the left, and I let out a startled squeal, my eyes watering from the chilly breeze.

My heart was so warm with triumph, enough to heat me up from the inside out.

Groups of houses huddled up together, appeared and disappeared from time to time, as if we were flying over islands made of flickering lights surrounded by a sea of blackness.

Eventually I must have dozed off because I was startled awake by a warm gust of wind as the black dragon circled the sky.

My hand clasped my mouth as I sobbed. There it was—the familiar marketplace square, empty and forlorn, with all the stalls closed up tight.

The buildings stood short and stocky, their simple stone walls weathered by centuries of wind and rain.

Some bore modest carvings of faceless gods that had left long ago, together with the craftsmen that crafted them. Most had humble walls of mud and straw, with narrow windows adorned with onion necklaces and sheep skulls peered out onto the square, their wooden shutters tightly closed. Above, roofs ofs of rough-hewn thatch sloped gently downwards, sheltering the poor abodes beneath.

The dragon landed on one talon to release me but, with my stiff muscles, I lost balance and ended up on my knees on the cold cobblestone. My head rose, paying no mind to the wounds.

My sleepy town lay deserted, its doors and windows barricaded with stout slabs of wood.

"Stay," I ordered my oversized guardian and chauffeur. "Your stomping will wake up the poor villagers!" I didn't want them to believe that was a mini earthquake.

The dragon settled back on its haunches and gave me a quizzical look, tilting its head.

I rubbed my hands and jumped a little, elated but cold. A twinge of disappointment knocked on my heart. Zerberus had let me slip away so easily...

The dragon huffed a small flame in my direction- it was as wide as a snake, but enough to make me leap.

"Thanks?"

It showed his too long, too curled up fangs.

"No teeth doctor where you are from, hmm?" I mumbled as I made my way in a tiny alley. A few rats rattled away.

I had planned to check in on Gianni, maybe steal a kiss or two as Zerberus had hinted he was back in town.

There it was. My humble abode. The four, humble walls I had known all my life.

My heart jumped into my throat as tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

Black curtains billowed in the wind, and black rose adorned the windows.

A makeshift black crow made of sheet and wood welcomed me at the door...

Dread washed over me, as the somber atmosphere enveloped me like a heavy, icy fog.

Oh no. They were mourning me!

When a warm breeze tickled the back of my neck, I spun around and gasped.

"You!" I accused, jabbing my finger in the air. The dragon had followed me... stealth as ever.

"So, you can be sneaky too... noted." I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation.

His muzzle nuzzled my waist affectionately, and I couldn't help but grin as I stroked his sleek obsidian scales. "Now, be a good boy and sit... or stand... or just don't set anything on fire, okay?"

This time, he complied with a low growl. Mostly because he physically couldn't fit through the door.

My freezing fingers grabbed the red wooden knob and twisted. The door creaked open – dad and Derek didn't find the need to lock it? Why?

The air was heavy with the scent of candles and dead flowers. A black sheet draped over the table and chairs we once shared countless meals around—our cherished family gatherings now a distant memory. Dishes and glasses sat neglected in the wooden sink, where a big, brown spier hang, lazily devouring an unfortunate fly.

Our beloved cyclamens dried up and forgotten, as dust and cowwebs ruled supreme.

I tried to open a window to let the dead air leave, but now a wall of scales blocked it, with a black eye moving around in the middle.

It was hard not to laugh. His big muzzle was trying to get inside. "No...no! You are too big!" I semi-whispered, as I grabbed a broom and pushed it on the big muzzle.

With a small growl of complaint, it left. "Behave!" I scolded him. He rose his wings once, showed me his fangs and turned around.

Could it be he was offended? I huffed. I didn't have the time or the heart for it now.

I made my way to my parents' room, a wave of love and relief washing over me despite the sad state of my home.

There lay my dear father, his calloused hands and tanned skin still and lifeless like the dead, supine on his side of the bed. Beside him, lay my mother's side, adorned with her two pillows and the crochet blanket she had lovingly crafted—perfectly aligned, just as she would have wanted.

My father breathed shallowly, his mouth slightly agape, with the familiar sight of his red sleep hat resting atop his head. Deep lines and white hair were the main difference I noticed in the semi darkness.

A choked sound left me as bent down. I caused that! "Oh...my poor dad,"

"Odette?" His weak voice reached my ears.

"Yes, dad! Yes! It's me!" I whimpered, my vision blurred in the dim light that filled the room.

"Oh, greatest gods... Is this really you?" He mumbled as he shuffled out of bed, fumbling to light a candle.

"What the devil is this..." a figure rushed into the room, brandishing a menacing scythe.

"Derek!" I screeched, shaking all over.

The scythe clattered to the ground with a dull thud.

"Odette?!" He backed away, while dad found the candle.

"Yes!"

"Damn sister. What chewed you up and spat you out? Where are your locks?"

I laughed, the joy bubbling up inside me like never before, mingling with tears of relief. That was how I should have felt on my wedding day.

Without a second thought, without recalling the nightmare I had just escaped, I flung myself into his arms. My funny, protective, strong, and brave Derek.

His embrace encased me, my tear-stained cheek pressed against his sleeping vest. The scent of wood sandal and rosemary filled my lungs.

But joy swiftly turned to horror.

His scream pierced my ears faster than the blue flames that consumed him.

And, again, I had been wrong.

What I thought was freedom from a nightmare was, in fact, a plunge into the abyss of despair.

AN/ Poor Odette, never gets a break :( at least she seems to have found a new friend!