I know a dragon hunter when I see one. They always look the same—the same toothy grin when they think they’ve cornered their prey, the same bloodthirsty glint in their eyes… hell, even the same shitty haircut. The one in front of me was no different, some asshat with one of those hairstyles where it’s shaved thinly on the sides with the top slicked back. His shotgun was modded because of course it was. Dragons don’t die as easily as humans do and the hunters have figured that out since the medieval times.
So interesting how humans evolve over time but some things still remain. Back before my world fell to literal pieces, we dragons used to fraternize with humans all the time. This was, of course, well before I was born. But there’s enough anecdotes in the history books to describe how it had been. We used to, as the cool kids say, “vibe” with them quite often. It was nothing abnormal to anyone but then, of course, things got different when the Fracture happened. Dragons left my world and dispersed into the Gaia Realm (that’s what we call Earth on this side of the portal, by the way). The story goes that dragons moving full-time to Earth caused land disputes and that turned into a war of sorts. In the midst of it all, humans figured out that dragon magic could be utilized if they took our organs. That led to certain types of propaganda to justify why dragons had to die.
And now, here we are, thousands of years later after the war with some shmucks still thinking we steal princesses and put them in towers or whatever.
“Heh… guess the rumors were true. There really is a dragon living here,” the hunter said, his teeth flashing in a barbaric grin.
This guy clearly thought he was slick for what he had done and all he really did was interrupt my depression episode. I didn’t know if I should thank him or not before things got messy. And I knew things would get messy, just as they inevitably did when a dragon crossed paths with their mortal foes. Dragon hunters have not changed their ways for thousands of years. They never will, I think. Humans, for all the good they can do in the world, are so often trapped by their own greed. They bleed and die for power. It’s sad but it’s the way of things. And, really, dragons are no different although we try to pretend otherwise. Everything, at the end of the day, just wants power and wants to live.
“Hands where I can see them,” he said to me.
I guess it was moot trying to argue that he had the wrong person. My wings, tail, and horns were out on display after all and I knew no amount of charisma could get me out of this one. There was a time to talk and there was a time for fangs and fire. I smiled at him sheepishly, hands lifted slowly.
“Now, now,” I said, the taste of that putrid beer still on my tongue. “Let’s not get hasty, sir.”
“Heh,” he began. “You’re gonna look good skinned on my mantle, I bet.”
I was not so delusional as to think this was not a dire situation. Staring down the barrel of that shotgun, a voice in the back of my head asked me if this was really how it ended? Gunned down in my own goddamn doorway and my last meal was that greasy pizza and mediocre beer.
Somehow, it felt fitting.
There were few things I could do to get out of this and no matter what I did, I would need to stall for time and get his eyes off of me for a second. A quick smack of my tail across the gun’s barrel would likely suffice to knock the weapon clean from his hands. Following that with a punch to the gut seemed sufficient enough to get out of this mess. But that was provided I could find a decent enough distraction.
“Do you mind stepping back slightly?” I asked him.
“What?” he asked, brows furrowed.
“Oh. You must not know,” I replied. “When you kill a dragon, our transformation spell wears off. I’ll be stuck in the doorway and it’ll be harder to skin me.”
“What…?” the hunter repeated, voice quieter as the cogs turned in his pea-sized brain. I could see him trying to process what I was saying. Feigning politeness, I gave him a smile.
“Look, I’m just trying to be helpful here. I’m gonna get stuck in the doorway if you kill me like this and I’m pretty sure that’s gonna damage the quality of my skin, isn’t it?” I pressed him ever so slightly. “I mean, damaged dragon skin? What are you? An amateur?”
He probably was but I didn’t want him to think that I thought that.
“I… uh… well…” the hunter fumbled about, scooting back a few steps. If he had kept his eye on me, the plan may not have worked. Unfortunately for him, he fell for the classic mistake of glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was not about to bump into anything.
I stepped forward, the weight of my lengthy tail slamming down onto the gun with as much force as I could manage. The eardrum-splitting sound of gunfire went off. If I was hit by anything ricocheting, I did not know it at the time—my focus was solely on the hunter, who was stumbling back with widened eyes. My hand found his collar just as his hand went to his belt. I only saw a glint of a knife for a second before a second gunshot went off. A flash of violet-blue light illuminated the scene for a mere moment and then the hunter was on the ground. Blood dripped from a wound upon his head but I knew to not concern myself with him now. I turned to see where the shot had come from and was met with a familiar silhouette.
If I’m honest, I don’t know how to describe Alphonse. In his human form, he cuts a lanky figure even with the padding of his lengthy coat. His azure hair reminds me of a colorful bird’s feathers, interrupted occasionally by a flair of magenta. Pointed ears not unlike my own stick out on either sides of his head. Usually, he looks exhausted.
But on that day, Alphonse bore a blank expression save for the tiniest spark of irritation in his sky blue eyes. He holstered his gun and then our gazes met. I didn’t know what to say in that moment, still riding on the adrenaline of nearly getting stabbed. But after a handful of seconds that felt like an eternity, I finally found it in me to say something even if I was angry.
“You’re kidding me.”
It was probably not the first words that should have come out of my mouth, considering I had just been saved. But what had happened ignited a new annoyance in me that far outweighed the pixie earlier.
“You’re welcome,” was his response, flat and deadpanned.
I wrinkled my nose at him. “I had it under control.”
He made a noise that sounded as though he did not believe me. Before I could continue, he spoke again, “You cut your hair.”
I don’t know why that made me feel a little warm in the face but it did. I guess I was a little self-conscious, thumbing through my short-cropped hair with a bit of a pout on my lips.
“Yeah. I did.”
If it were anyone else, I would have expected a compliment. But Alphonse Ravaenu doesn’t work that way and I should have known better. Instead, he walked over to the unconscious hunter on the ground, looking down at him in a mixture of disgust and disdain. He squatted and I started to ask him why he didn’t bother leaving the asshole alive (assuming he was dead—I did not bother to check but the wound seemed fatal enough). But I stopped myself; to Alphonse, the only good hunter is a dead one and that’s a sentiment I’ve grown lax on over the years.
“Did you know him?” Alphonse asked, looking the body over.
“Nah,” I replied.
He grunted and continued his look. In the distance, I could hear sirens. One of the neighbors probably heard the gunshots and they called the cops to check it out. I couldn’t blame them for that but I knew I did not want to deal with the local authorities.
“Keep an eye out,” Alphonse said to me as he checked the hunter’s pockets. “There could be more.”
I nodded. My eyes took to my surroundings, scanning the darkness for any signs of movement. But it was hard to focus with Alphonse there—I could not think of the last time I had seen him. My father’s funeral, maybe. That was the last time I had been at the manor, after all. I had grabbed what possessions that the will had bestowed to me (well, the ones I could carry) and I had left without a second glance back.
Alphonse had been trying to get me to return ever since. He was the one who had sent the pixie and all of the letters. He was my father’s vassal, an arcane dragon, and the current keeper of the manor grounds in the absence of the Solaris family. I guess I should not have been surprised he had decided to come visit in-person after my silence recently.
“Why send a mail pixie if you planned to come all this way?” I asked him.
He glanced at me for a moment and I realized there was something in his hand. It appeared to be a scrap of paper. “To give you one last chance before I took drastic measures.”
“‘One last chance’…” I echoed. “What, were you planning on kidnapping me if I said no?”
He did not answer and that made me nervous. Alphonse unfurled the note, gave it a gander, scowled, then handed it over. I took it, looking down at the words scribbled onto it in a sloppy half-cursive style.
Kill the dragon with the black and white wings.
“Well that’s simple enough,” I remarked as I handed the note back to him.
“Someone put a hit on you,” he said, taking the note and shoving it into his pocket.
“So it would seem.”
“I don’t suppose you know whose feathers you’ve ruffled.”
I did. But I didn’t want to say it. The memory was a little too fresh, too raw to face again. So I shrugged my shoulders. “Hunters hunt, Al. I wouldn’t think too much about it.”
He did not seem entirely swayed by that argument. With a huff, Alphonse nodded. “Well, the police will be here any minute. Do we want to stay for this?”
The obvious answer was no. Alphonse had just shot a man, after all, and that was going to be a hard to get out of. Even if it was in self-defense, I could see a scenario where they would detain him for questioning. Possibly even jail him and try to take him to court. And I knew Alphonse did not have the patience for that
But the situation shifted before I could even reply. ‘Hunters always travel in groups’ played through my head when I saw the glint of metal in the dark. Whoever it was, they were quiet enough that neither of us had heard them coming. I grabbed Alphonse and pulled him away as a third shot rang out loud into the night. The sirens were getting closer and I knew that we could not involve bystanders in this. Not even cops. The situation was too messy.
“Fly!” Alphonse yelled at me and he summoned his wings to take to the skies.
Another shot, another miss. Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, Alphonse’s hand secured my wrist. He pulled me along, blue wings stronger than mine as we ascended into the darkness. A sliver of a crescent moon hung in the air overhead and below us, the town’s night lights illuminated the human settlement I had called home for the past few years. For some reason, even in the midst of my fear and annoyance, I felt a touch sentimental. It was as if I knew nothing could be the same after that night, even if I did not want to admit it.
We landed atop a shopping center building a few blocks away, close enough to still hear the cry of police sirens. They would be discovering the fallen hunter soon and the open door to my apartment. Maybe they would assume I got kidnapped. I’m not sure what to do about that. I’m not sure what to do about any of this. I rubbed my forehead and tried to stifle my anger. If only Alphonse had not done that… we could have tied the hunter up, hung him upside-down somewhere, humiliated him a little bit…
But Avalonnia had seen its fair share of hunters. Leaving them alive could be dangerous and Alphonse knew that. Still, this was about to be a legal mess and as much as Alphonse was a thorn in my side, I didn’t want him to go to jail or anything.
I sat down with a huff, kicking my legs out and leaning back. “Well, now what?”
“We’ll have to go back, of course. But I wanted you out of there first and foremost. We had no idea how many were in the area.”
“Fair enough.”
“You’re lucky I was there, Amalia. This would not have happened if you were at the Manor.”
I really did not want to talk about his damn letters or any damn family responsibilities. But I knew that since he was here, there was likely no getting rid of him.
Alphonse pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. “Now they know where you live. You won’t have a moment of peace here anymore. You know how hunters are.”
I did know how hunters were and he was not wrong. But did that really mean I had to come back home? Back to that dusty old manor in the middle of nowhere? I scowled into the darkness, praying somehow this was all just an unpleasant dream and I’d wake up hungover on my couch in the living room.
But it was not to be.
As the wind swept over the rooftop, bringing forth the scent of the town and the night air, I knew that all of my running had come to an end. I suppose I had always known it would come to this, one way or another. Ignoring the letters had just been putting the inevitable off.
Yet I was too bitter and angry to accept defeat. I looked up at Alphonse.
“We can talk about that later. Gotta take care of the hunters first. Have a plan?”
Alphonse closed his eyes in deep thought. Then, he said, “We give it a moment, let the local authorities clear out the area. The hunters may be deterred by the attention and withdraw. If not, we dispatch them. Regardless, we will proceed with caution.”
It sounded like a good enough plan to me. I sighed, opening my mouth to agree with his idea. But then he spoke up once more.
“And then we will begin packing your belongings.”
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