I was back here again.

Under the water, with dark blue and purplish light filtering in from an unseen surface far above. I couldn't see them, but like always, I could feel the eyes in the dark, watching me.

This time was different, though. This time I felt different. I ran my hands across my head as I laid on the sea floor and felt scales. Horns. I was partly dragon, more even than when I had laid down to sleep. I growled—an honest growl, animalistic like when I was in my full dragon shape—and glared at the darkness.

"Oh, I have had it with these stupid dreams," I snarled. "I see you out there! Why do you keep doing this to me!? Just let me go! I don't want you or need you!"

The eyes I could feel became eyes I could see. Cerulean blue like the evening sky, with slit pupils and no sign of coherent thought behind them. They pushed out of the darkness alongside a draconic face. It was like mine, but sharper at every edge. Spikes jutted from above its brow ridge and under its chin, and its scales were heavier, its horns gnarled and curled into a tangled mess.

My breath caught in my throat as the monster in my head stared down at me, but I didn't falter. I pointed an accusatory finger at the Fiend. "You," I said. "Get out."

A rumble sounded from far away, but the beast gave no answer.

"I said get out!" I stomped forward. "This is my mind, not yours! I want to have a normal sleep tonight!"

The Fiend stared at me, then glanced down at the ground. I followed its eyes. Suddenly, corpses had appeared all around me. Svarnuli corpses, four of them, all crushed under tremendous weight or powerful jaws.

"I know you helped me today," I said. "But you're—you're just a shortcut. A tool. I used you today, but I don't owe you my dreams. Or any part of my mind! It's mine, and I don't want you around unless I bring you out myself."

The Fiend lowered its stance, a quiet snarl beginning in the back of its throat as its face became somehow even harsher. I felt a momentary pulse of fear, like I'd been caught in the eye of a predator, but I pushed it aside. There wasn't anything to be afraid of. Like I had said, this was my mind. It was beholden to me alone.

The waters swirled, and I felt something shift. I looked down. The svarnuli were gone. Instead, at my feet was the image of a man, his static face contorted in fear, staring up at the gun I suddenly held in my hand. Behind me was a broken wagon. Not the one from the test, but one from a few weeks ago. Its hitching had been shot through to let the horses leave it behind.

"What is this?" I said. "You weren't even here for this! What are you trying to say!?"

The Fiend said nothing, but its growl shifted a tone down.

This was stupid. There was no getting through to it, it was a being of pure rage. Greed. Pride. It couldn't be argued with, it could only be excised. I sighed, closed my eyes, and held my hand out.

"I'm done," I said. "I don't need you. I'm cutting you out."

I visualised a sword in my hands. A big one, one that could cleave a mountain in two, much less a mere Fiend. I felt its weight. I felt the cold of its steel, freezing against the lukewarm waters.

Then I opened my eyes, and there was nothing. No blade. Nothing but the Fiend standing over me, looming five times taller than it had before.

"What?" I whispered, confused. "No, come on." I tried to summon the will to make the sword again, but I could feel fear taking over. The waters grew turbulent, whirling into a violent vortex that stormed through the sea. I felt myself sinking, and looked down to see that the sandy bottom was beginning to consume me. I struggled against it, but no matter what, I just kept going under, the sand falling away wherever I put my weight.

As I sunk up to my shoulders, I looked up at the beast watching me. I had a traitorous thought for only a moment. I could ask it for help. But I couldn't give in, not now. I had to ride this out. Show no fear. Never back down.

Those thoughts were all I had to console me as I fell completely under the sand. The last thing I heard before my mind was swallowed up were three words, echoing from everywhere and everything around me.

YOU ARE ME.

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I woke up.

I was confined. Trapped by weak fabric. It wasn't a problem, I broke free easily enough. I stumbled away onto the grass, shaking the scraps loose from my wings. It was night out, but I could still see well. Two other dragons slept near the edge of a cliff, while humans were busy crawling out from their sleeping places. One was already standing, a spear in its hands.

I could easily kill one, but as more emerged, I had to reconsider. I glanced up at the sky, full of stars and wispy clouds. I could fly away. I should. I wanted to.

But there was an obnoxious whining in my mind, a plaintive voice begging me to stay. I wished to ignore it, but I physically couldn't. Every time I raised my wings, the spear-wielder would bark something, and I found myself lowering them.

I hated to listen to something other than me. I couldn't understand why I couldn't just do what I wanted, why anything else was supposed to matter. But right then, I didn't have any other choice. I settled lower, ready to fight, but that whining wouldn't let me even brace my claws for blood. I snorted, letting some fire ride on every breath as a warning.

One of the other humans grabbed a thin club, but the spear-wielding one yelled something angrily at it, before coming closer. I snarled as it approached, hoping that would deter it with my inability to attack, but it was frustratingly stubborn, not flinching until it was only a foot from my face. It tossed its spear aside, and started speaking softly.

I felt its mind brush up against mine, and suddenly my head was rent asunder. The whining grew to a loud yelling, fully realising itself as a part of my mind with coherent thoughts and a storm of terrified, anguished emotions. My thoughts warred against each other as I reeled away from the human, desperately grasping at my head as if I could squeeze it back into one piece.

Calm down—

Don't listen—

Need to fight—

Get out of here—

Can't run away—

You don't need to—

I want to—

That's your sister!

I collapsed onto my side, and felt myself transforming. It was never pretty, but this time, the pain was back. I felt every agonising snap of my bones, compression of my muscles, and twisting wrench of organs until it was over. I laid on the ground, human. At least, mostly.

Tears flooded my eyes as soon as they could come. I tried to push myself up, but my arms were too weak. Grace ran to my side, holding my arm up and propping me against her shoulder.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"It's okay," she whispered. "You're back. It's over."

"No…" I sobbed. "I can't…."

"Don't be silly," said Grace, forcing a smile onto her face. "Of course it's over. I don't think weird monster-dragons can talk. So, since you're talking to me, you must be back."

She was trying to lift my spirits, but it didn't work. I leaned against her, struggling to get words out. I could feel the others watching me, but none of them drew any closer yet.

"What happened?" asked Grace, her voice growing softer and more sombre. "It was like you were…possessed."

"I kind of was," I whispered.

"The Fiend," said Arthur.

"No, no!" I sat up of my own accord, desperately shaking my head. "It's not—it's not like that. It's not like there's someone else in my head at all. It's just me. I felt it. It was real."

"Slow down," said Grace. "What is this 'Fiend' you've been talking about?"

Right. She didn't know. "It's a dragon thing," I whispered, finally managing to get my voice a little under control. "Thoughts you don't want." I clenched my fist. "But this isn't the same! I…I did want it. I felt it all for real, in my heart. I wanted to fly away. I wanted to—to hurt someone. It wasn't some kind of Fiend that possessed me. It was just me."

I hugged Grace as tight as I could. "It's changed me," I said. "There's a part of me that really wants to do horrible things now. But the more I try to fight it off, the tighter its hold gets…. I'm not all who I used to be, Grace. Not anymore."

"Breathe, Belfry," said Grace. "Listen. I don't care what side of your skull those kinds of wants are coming from, but it doesn't matter. I know you're still you because of things like this. You still care. About me, about the flight. Just because you're struggling doesn't change that. Okay?"

"Okay," I said. I didn't know if I believed it, but it would do.

She glanced up at the sky. "It's close to morning," she said. "How about we just sit by the fire until we're ready to go? Does that sound good?"

"I don't want to keep you up," I whispered. "I've already caused enough trouble."

"Well…." Grace grimaced, and I could hear the levity coming back into her voice as she looked over at the campsite. "You kind of destroyed our tent when you transformed, so…."

Oh. Right. There were scraps of tent fabric covering the clearing. Even the wooden struts that held it up had been snapped. I self-consciously started gathering all the scraps up off the ground while Grace headed back to the fire.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"It's fine," said Grace. "Now we know to pack an extra one next time."

"I'm making tea, if you would like any," said Emrys. He had already gotten the fire back up to a dull roar, and had a metal kettle boiling over it. "I find it helps to calm the nerves."

"Thanks," I said, accepting a small metal cup he handed me. I stared down at my hands. I figured it was going to be like this after what had happened in my dream, but they had changed. The scales now went down my entire arms instead of just the back, and my palms had disappeared beneath the pads of softer, smaller scales that made them up in my dragon form. I felt my face, and found the small nubs from the day before had grown into small, rounded horns that protruded from my hair. My mouth had pushed outward, too, with scales beginning to run down the top of my nose, halfway between normal and the muzzle I had as a dragon. I let my finger rest on my chin, glad I couldn't see how grotesque I was in the reflection of Emrys's dark amber tea.

I pulled my robe tight. At least that had survived, but there wasn't going to be any way to hide myself now. This was more than a chip of humanity I had lost now; I had been marred almost beyond recognition. Hopefully people wouldn't assume that I was an accursed fiend, or something. At least I could still talk.

Emrys held up the kettle, and poured a small serving of dark amber tea into it. I sniffed, taking in the scents that were just as strong as they would have been in my dragon shape. It was herbal and sweet, with tiny hints of mint, marigold, and mountain honeysuckle, and it tasted just as good. Taking a long sip did help me calm down, but I still levelled a light glare at the prince.

"I don't think anyone would want this," I murmured, tapping my nose with a claw.

He slowly nodded. "Point taken."

────────────────────────────────────────

Morning came faster than I would have liked. It was a quiet few hours, aside from me murmuring a deeper explanation on the "Fiend" business to Grace, Rosalie, and Ingo. Yura and Emrys, it seemed, already knew. Those three sat with the knowledge for a while, letting it stew in their minds. Maybe it would dissuade Rosalie from possibly wanting to use another stone, if it came to it.

I had wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and sat soaking in the warmth of the fire until the sun had fully risen over the horizon and lit up the sky, banishing the stars. Ingo stomped the fire out.

"Hope you're ready," he said. "Because we need to go."

Grace put a hand on my shoulder. "Do you feel up to flying?" she asked. "Or do you need a ride?"

"No, no." I pushed her hand away. "I can fly." I felt the foreign shape of my face again. I hadn't stopped doing that all morning. It was hard to take in. The scales on my hands and face felt superficial in retrospect, but this was so much more than anything that had happened until now. It was a reminder not to fight the Fiend again. Apparently it didn't matter how much conviction or willpower I had, I couldn't force it out of my mind.

It was also a sting every time I remembered it. I was almost eager to shift into dragon form. At least then I would be normal, relatively speaking, instead of some kind of misshapen freak.

"If you're sure," said Grace, gently stepping away.

"Mhm," I confirmed. I threw off the blanket and walked away from the fire, where I could shift without disturbing anyone. "I'll be fine…" I muttered under my breath, and shifted.

I did half expect something to be different this time, but it wasn't. I changed just like normal, and was back to familiarity. The others packed up camp, and we took off. I was glad to be in the sky, able to think about the world rolling by and eventually the deep sea over the gulf instead of last night. We flew a little more slowly this time, not stopping for a break on the beach.

Eventually the sharp mountains came into view on the far side, and then beyond them, the keep. I was fully exhausted, both from a slight lack of sleep last night and carrying two people such a long distance, but we'd made good time. It couldn't be more than a couple hours past noon. We landed in the courtyard to the familiar sights and sounds of other flights training.

Grace and Emrys jumped to the ground, Emrys visibly marvelling at everything around him. "Ah! I've sent many a letter to your commander here, but I've never had the chance to see a dragoon bastion in person!" He openly stared at groups sparring, earning a few odd looks back.

«It is something, isn't it?» said Arthur.

«Come on,» I said, nudging the prince with my tail. «We need to report.»

"No need," said Grace, inclining her head towards the keep, from which Cynthia and Leo were walking. "Looks like they saw us coming."

«Line up,» I whispered, and the flight obeyed, getting into our usual loose line with each person beside their partner that we normally did for structured meetings with the commander. This time, she had a sword at her side that didn't seem like a normal weapon. The pommel and crossguard were highly ornamented and ornately carved, daubed with gold bordering the red paint of the hilt.

"Welcome back," said Cynthia. There was a loud flapping sound as Nalezen descended from somewhere above, landing gracefully behind his partner. "And welcome to you, Your Highness." She gave a shallow bow to the prince, which Nalezen and Leo mimicked.

"I thank you!" he said in return. "It is wonderful to finally be here, sir commander."

Cynthia nodded and glanced between the prince and the rest of us. "I trust they saw you here safely, and can see that they did so with haste as well."

"Oh, indeed," said Emrys. "I was rescued from a vicious svarnuli pack, quite adeptly I might add, despite such a dangerous situation."

"Well done," said Cynthia. "And returning in three days is no less impressive."

«Of course, sir,» I said.

She drew the ornamental sword, revealing a shining silver blade just tinged with gold, holding it in front of her face, its point up towards the sky. "With your success," she began, "there is but one more part of the process."

She approached and laid the flat of the sword gently against Grace's shoulder. "Grace Lawcrest, do you reaffirm your commitment to the people of this land, to protect them when they are in danger, and to be the shield against what darkness encroaches?"

"I do," said Grace, her voice trembling slightly.

"Then by my authority as commander of this bastion, I grant you the full title of Knight of the Dragoon Corps. Wear it with pride." She pulled the sword back, and then angled it up to rest it on my shoulder. "And you, Belfry Lawcrest, do you also reaffirm your commitment to the people of this land, to stand by your partner as one in life and death, and to be the sword on which evil is split?"

"Yes," I said, confident behind my sister.

"Then by my authority as commander of this bastion, I grant you the full title of Knight of the Dragoon Corps. Wear it with pride."

Cynthia kept going through the flight, giving the same questions and receiving the same answers, albeit with different tones. Rosalie seemed slightly nervous, while Arthur clearly had both excitement and trepidation. Ingo was as calm as always, and Griffin was surprisingly confident. As she gave the titles out, officially finishing our training period as a flight, I gave Grace a nudge with my wing.

«Excited?» I asked.

«Yeah,» she said. «Feels like a dream.» There was some hesitancy in her voice that hadn't been there a few days ago, but even with our minds in contact, I couldn't tell why. I put the doubt to rest; if it was important, she'd tell me once she got the chance.

Once Yura and Brand had received their titles, Cynthia stepped back, sheathing the sword once more. "Congratulations are in order," she said, "but I imagine that you are all quite ready to depart this keep and take command of your own bastion?"

"Yes!" said Grace, followed shortly after by Arthur, Yura, and Griffin.

Cynthia nodded with a smile. "Excellent, because another mission has already presented itself." She stepped aside, clearing the way to the keep. "Go and gather your belongings and make ready to leave for good. In three hours, I want you present and ready to fly. You will be going to the great city of Yorving."

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