Discordant voices rang in her head. Like a crowded place, it overlapped with one another. They came from every source. A child, a woman, a man, the elderly. They all talked with no unison heard amongst them. It was annoying. Infuriating. Debilitating. She wanted it all to stop.

  The voices got louder and louder, overwhelming her hearing. She tried to growl, to roar, to intimidate. She wanted them to stop. But it was no use. She was one voice against many. Even if she was a mighty dragon, it did not matter against what felt like an infinity of voices. She wasn’t even sure she was roaring. She couldn’t feel her throat going dry.

  In desperation, she tried to move, but in the darkness, she could not be sure. One thing she was sure, though, was that it was cold. Her claws were on a cold surface. No, cold was the best way to describe it. In truth, it was hard to describe. Was she even touching anything? Was she standing on something? Was she even….

  No, she thought. She was alive. If she wasn’t, how could she hear those voices? How could she attempt to fight back? But her reassurance was not enough. The darkness, they were tormenting her, making her drop her guard, so that they could consume her. There was no better prize than a dragon.

  She did not have the time to fight back. A pressure beyond anything she ever experienced started crushing her. She let out a pained shriek, but her voice was drowned by the ever-increasing voices of discord. She was losing the fight along with her consciousness. It was too overwhelming.

  "Help," she croaked. "Help me! Please!"

  She repeated her pleas hopelessly, not knowing if anyone would listen or not. Yet, she kept pleading for help.

  And her efforts bore fruit. Among the discord, a voice gradually asserted its individuality among the screaming, accusing masses. A commanding, female voice.

  “Pull yourself together!” she commanded. “You are stronger than the darkness! You are a dragon! Nay, you are more than just a dragon!”

  She did not know how to proceed. The voice was reassuring and powerful, yet confusing and full of mystery. Doubt began filling her heart. Was that just her own voice, trying to keep her hopes up? Was it just a false hope?

  “Do not falter! Use my gift! Use my fire, Henrietta, Princess of House Vesparte! Use it!”

  Calling her name and title was the reassurance Henrietta needed. Reassurance that she was still alive, and she was a princess. She was not going to be crushed by the discord. She was an individual, one with a name. She was a princess, who commanded respect. She must be stronger than despair and hopelessness.

  With a renewed hope and assurance, she clawed at the darkness. Shrieks and screams could be heard as the darkness gave way to light. It wasn't overwhelming enough to do anything, but the light among the darkness was enough to lift her hopes, knowing that the darkness could be beaten.

  And that effort started a spark within her heart. A spark that would precede a fire that burned stronger and stronger as her desire to live grow.

  Her fire. She had been sealed from it for two years, and she barely had a chance to unleash it before she was gravely injured. It gave her warmth. It was full of life, threatening to burn her lungs if she kept it in for much longer. It begged to be released against the voices. Against her enemies. Against the encroaching darkness that threatened her.

  Henrietta inhaled, filling her lungs with air. Combustible air. She then exhaled everything in it. First came smoke, then a powerful jet of fire that burned the darkness all around her. Agonizing shrieks filled her ears as the darkness turned white. Henrietta saw it, and she kept breathing out streams of fire that burned the scenery, cleaning the dark to reveal light. She thought she would lose her hearing if the shrieks kept getting louder, so she kept burning the darkness, to silence the voices. She must, or she would lose herself in the darkness once more.

  She felt her lungs burning. The pain kept her strong. It was the only indication that she was alive. She kept inhaling and exhaling, breathing out fire upon fire. But the darkness was stubborn. It kept the light away from her grasp. Her determination to survive was strong. She must out-stubborn her enemy. She must survive. She had not fulfilled her mission yet.

  She felt something else. A burning sensation, unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was followed by the sight of a flash, or a spark, from within the darkness. Her whole being compelled her to reach to it, made it her. The spark was hers, always had been. It had been buried deep within her, begging to be called upon when the time was right.

  “Yes,” said the female voice. Excitement apparent in her voice. “That’s it. That’s the spark of my fire. Your fire. Don’t let it go, Henrietta! Ignite it with passion! Your desire! Your wish to be free of the corrupting darkness! Pour your heart into it!”

  Henrietta roared with all her might. That spark was her salvation from the hellish landscape she was trapped in. She must turn that spark into fire like the fire within her soul. She reached out, both as a dragon, and as a human, towards the spark. It grew larger, but not enough to destroy the darkness. Thus, she poured everything. Her sorrow, her anger, her suffering, newfound friendship, and most of all, her dear brother. He was his connection, the proof of her humanity.

  Those feelings, primal as they were, ignited the small fire spark exponentially, until it became a raging fire that burned everything. It almost immediately burned the darkness. The final wail of agony was suddenly replaced with silence and tranquility, a welcome change for the dragon. It was replaced with an interpretation of a clear, blue sky, with the calm water below her acting as an infinite mirror where Henrietta could see herself.

  When she saw herself two years ago on a puddle, she was mortified. What looked back at her was not the face she had seen hundreds of time before. Instead, it was the face of a dragon, one with a mane reminiscent of her hair color. Her horns were white like bones, and curved backwards. They were slightly branched and looking like jagged rocks, different from the dragons of Manarithia. And then there was an issue with her grayish pink scales. An unusual, maybe even unique, color for a dragon.

  But with water as clear as the infinite mirror, she could finally see herself in its full glory. She was still unable to fathom that her existence was now that of a dragon’s, but as she gazed at her own reflection, she started to appreciate herself. She was quite a beauty, an enigma among the colorful dragons she had seen in her short journey through Manarithia. Her blue eyes, now with slitted pupils befitting a dragon, contrasted well with her pink scales.

  She had always appreciated herself when she was human. There was no reason not to appreciate it now, regardless of what she looked like. There may be some complications on the fact that she had no wings before, and was only able to properly walk when on all fours. She could stand on her hind legs, but only for a moment, much like a dog. Not much of a loss there. She could compensate by learning how to use her wings other than to glide.

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  That’s when she remembered why she was there to begin with. She had her brush with death, one that ravaged her body to the point she couldn't wake up. Whatever poison the lizard people used on her was slowly killing her, and she couldn't wake up. She felt vulnerable, but she couldn't help it. Her brother and his friends would surely tried to find a way to cure her, but until then, she was trapped in her own mind. Or perhaps a dream?

  “At least it's all calm now,” she said to herself as she sat like a dog. “Why do I always have to be the vulnerable one? Why can't I at least dictate my own story?”

  “Perhaps your story is always meant to be different, young human.”

  Henrietta yelped in surprise. She looked around, trying to find who was talking to her in her own mind. There was no one in the realm but her. She made sure by looking around her twice.

  “Making a fool out of yourself after a grand feat you just did? I would say you are predictable, but that's to be expected for someone who wielded powers beyond her understanding. Look down.”

  Henrietta followed the voice. To her surprise, her reflection was replaced by another dragon, this time a proper-looking, crimson-scaled dragon. The dragon’s sleek appearance, along with the jewelry adorning her engraved horns, made her less a beast. No beasts would even bother with jewelries.

  Henrietta, being a princess, could only bow the best she could. She knew the dragon was not just any dragon. It...she...was regal, like a queen of her own kind. Perhaps she was the queen of dragons.

  “Forgive my earlier confusion,” said Henrietta. “I did not expect my reflection to be someone else’s.”

  “This is the realm deep within your consciousness,” said the dragon. “While you'd usually be alone, it is not the case at the moment. You'd normally unable to go this deep within yourself, considering your lack of training. You can thank me for that."

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” asked Henrietta. “Have you always been inside me all these time?”

  "Yes,” said the dragon. “From the moment you awakened my fire within you, one that was abruptly sealed from you during your daring escape."

  "Daring escape?" Henrietta drew a quick conclusion. "You mean, when I escaped the castle? I don't even remember what happened."

  "You wouldn't remember. Your body and your soul were adjusting themselves to your new form. You were just a beast back then, one that was fortunate enough to escape with just your fire sealed. There are many beings among your enemies that can easily slay a beast, or in your case, a mindless dragon."

  "So then why didn't we meet when Shana unsealed my fire?"

  "You were not desperate enough yet to use my gift. What happened to you next was the right moment." The dragon in the reflection then growled. "Yet I question the wisdom of turning you into my Herald. I cannot say you're the right choice, but it is inevitable."

  "Who are you, if I may ask?"

  "I am Zulkiris, the Dragon goddess of Fire. For a certain group of people, at least."

  “Goddess of Fire?” asked Henrietta, who gave the dragon a look that was half quizzical and half in disbelief.

  The dragon chuckled. “I am not surprised that you do not know who I am. Humans cared not for the religion that wasn't theirs. It amused me how much you humans would do anything to gain power without even considering the consequences. Or perhaps you know, and you just don't care."

  "This curse is not my choice to begin with," said an annoyed Henrietta. "I don't even know who did this to me."

  “Your complaint is duly noted,” said the dragon. "But it happened, anyway, and here we are."

  “Yes. Here we are, at the moment of truth,” said Henrietta, losing all her formal pretense. “Tell me, Zulkiris. Are you responsible for my curse?”

  The Fire Goddess did not hesitate to tell her the answer.

  “I am,” she said, no regret apparent in her voice.

  “Then can you—”

  “The answer is no, for I do not have the means to reverse it. The curse is forced upon you by an outside force, but it drew me to your presence."

  Disappointment was apparent in Henrietta’s expression. She made sure Zulkiris could see it.

  “Well…I just have to ask,” said Henrietta, trying to shrug before she realized that she couldn’t.

  As she saw Zulkiris, Henrietta started to notice that she looked away with regret apparent in her face. The former princess wondered if that was regret for not being able to change her back, or for something else. Since Henrietta couldn’t read her mind, she couldn’t tell why. Before Henrietta could ask, however, the crimson dragon snapped back at her, expression turned serious.

  “If you wish to survive, Henrietta, you must learn how to wield my fire,” she said attentively. “From your recent incursions, you must have begun to realize that there is a dark force that is beginning to move. You must master this gift. This fire is not to be fueled with sorrow and pain. It will burn you from within."

  “It’s the only thing I have for the last two years,” said Henrietta.

  “But it will corrupt the fire, turning it against you. You will gain tremendous power, as you cling to desperation and despair. Such power will destroy everything you want to destroy. You will become the fire that consumes all. And yes, it includes you.”

  "The fire is going to consume me?”

  “From within, then outwards. Your body will burst into fire, becoming the fuel to a fire that will never stop burning. Vengeance and sorrow are strong, uncontrollable emotion. You best remember that. Fire is not made to be a uncontrollable force of nature. It will inevitably start, but only those responsible will stop it. Those who lose themselves will let it burn until nothing remains."

  Henrietta pondered hard about what the Fire Goddess said. She seemed determined not to let Henrietta destroy herself, based on her assertive tone. She didn’t have a choice but to agree. She knew how powerful the fire was even before she used it in that world. She was aware of its potential when it burned many of the lizards to crisps without even breathing the fire out of her maws. She was tempted to use it, all because of her hatred for the people who destroyed her family.

  The Fire Goddess seemed to sense the conflict within Henrietta. “You have a long way to go before you can harness it properly. Those thoughts would corrupt you before you know it.”

  Henrietta sighed. She really wanted to use the fire for what it’s worth. But Zulkiris had a point. She had read stories in the castle library of the folly of heroes who were consumed by vengeance in the quest. They became desperate, unable to think straight, and worst of all, couldn’t even recognize their own allies and turned into the one thing the heroes hated: their own worst enemy. While it was one of the raunchier books that served to shock readers, they did convey a very strong message.

  There was no point in revenge. Not without considering the consequences.

  Henrietta silently concurred within herself. She was not alone. She still had Thomas. She found friendship in Bartlett and Rodvar. While she personally had issues with Shana for the way she treated her when they first met, she taught Henrietta that there were more than one way to survive in this world.

  Thus she made her choice with a declaration.

  "I won't let myself by overtaken by grief," said Henrietta. "I can't promise you, but I can promise to try."

  The Fire Goddess listened to her declaration; a smile slowly crept out of her draconic maws.

  "She is wiser than her ancestor", she thought. "But it is yet to be seen whether she can break the curse."

  Henrietta, with renewed resolve, then said, "Teach me how to control the fire. I may not wish to use it for vengeance, but I need it to protect the people I cared about."

  “If that is your answer, Henrietta,” said Zulkiris. “Then I will teach you. This subconscious realm is a perfect place to train. You need to know the limits of your body within this realm before you can start using my fire in the real world. Otherwise, even if you are not fueling your fire with vengeance and sorrow, you'd still burn yourself out from overexertion."

  "Don't I need to learn with my body instead of doing it mentally?"

  "Temper, temper, my Herald. Learn to control your fire first. Find what works and what's not. Only then, will I allow you to wake up."

  “I wonder. How long has time passed outside this place?” wondered Henrietta.

  The Fire Goddess smiled. “It may surprise you.”

  Henrietta smiled back. She may be uptight, but she did have a sense of humor.

  "Never thought a goddess has a sense of humor," said Henrietta. "How unbecoming."

  “You say that again, and I swear I’ll burn you where you stand,” said Zulkiris, though with a cheery, passive-aggressive tone.

  Henrietta should have been scared, but the Fire Goddess said it with such playful tone, before letting out a smirk afterwards. She did not need to be scared of her, but that did not mean she should disrespect her.

  She was a goddess, after all.