of troubles when I was young. My mother used to scold me for not trying to get along with people, and I used to think that people weren’t worth it, so the day after the reprimand I would get into another fight and end up with another broken tooth or a minor stabbing wound.
Scales don’t make us as invincible as they say.
When I was young, I used to look up to my grandfather. I’ve only seen him twice in my life, but the image is still strikingly vivid in my imagination. He was always immaculately groomed and elegant, with bright emerald eyes, and sharp spikes along the spine, and two pairs of long, swirly horns crowning his head. He could kill a couple of deer just by spreading his wings, and desolate a whole village in one breath. The latter did, in fact, happen once, when my grandfather threw a tamper tantrum after being rejected by the Listening Tower. A stubborn streak made him unpopular among wizards and ethereal creatures in possession of absolute knowledge.
My mother wasn’t amused by my ambition. She tried many times to explain to me how violence was never an answer, how important it was to adjust your habits to the others’ comfort and safety. She has even put a taming spell on me as a penalty once. Now I bear no grudge against her, but back at the time I was furious. How dare she stand in my way to greatness? Having a jealous streak, I dreamt not only of reaching my grandfather’s might, but of exceeding it. He burnt a village – I would ruin the entire city, thought I.
The thing is, I’ve never been particularly big. You can see my size is pretty average now, and I was even smaller back then. But I was also vain, so I compensated the lack of physical strength with excessive stubborness and audacity. I would pick all of my fights, and I would lose them, and I would feel humiliated and be even more hateful of my opponents.
One time I’ve seen my grandfather tearing his enemy apart, and the second time I’ve seen him fall. It wasn’t by another dragon’s claws, though. It was a reature almost as small as me, and, with no arms or wings to fight, even more vulnerable. Her voice was soft and as slick as her body.
“Where are you from?”, he asked.
“Somewhere you have never been to”, she answered. “But will soon be.”
“What do you mean?”, asked my grandfather.
The creature came closer.
“I’ve travelled a long way, and yet I never left. I’ve seen wizards and kings powerful and mighty, all doing their best to avoid getting there, and yet all their efforts were vain.”
She drew closer, crawling up my grandfather’s arm, between his wings, right to his neck. He didn’t seem to notice, distracted by the mystery.
“I’ve seen towers and castles appear there by being not built, but destroyed,” she hissed in his ear.
“How big is it?” he asked.
“As big as the earth,” she said. “All that is forgotten is forever stored there. And forgotten you will soon be.”
A good sense of humor was never one of my grandfather’s virtues. Behind his gruff exterior he had a heart just as harsh. He roared menacingly and tried to shake the creature away, but did not succeed.
“Enough with your riddles. Tell me the answer!”
The creature opened her mouth again, and I saw a pair of sharp teeth sparkle in the dark and bite right through my grandfather’s armour. Scales don’t make us as invincible as they say. He let out a cry of pain and helpless fury, and then he fell down.
“This is your answer,” she cackled. “The dirt.”
Us dragons were never the ones for sympathy and familial sentiment. I did nothing when my grandfather let out his last breath, and I learned a great lesson that day.
Too late for fidgeting, little knight. You should have run earlier.
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