The dragon's tongue flicked with satisfaction. "I would consider it," he drawled lazily, his long black nail flicking casually at a ruby the size of a human fist, though pitifully small compared to his own talons. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I...I can take you to the village," the boy stuttered, fear shining in his eyes.

He stank. Humans always stank with fear when facing Dajal, the greatest dragon to live. He opened a heavy-lidded eye, gazing at the boy, pinned by a single talon, and rubbed the tip of his sharp nail casually against the human's stomach. The boy cringed.

"Why would I care for the village?" the dragon responded, enjoying the human's discomfort. These humans had caused much pain and grief to Dajal, and he relished his revenge.

"But...that's where she is -- my sister, I mean...," the boy said. His body was quaking now, and the dragon had no reason to doubt him. "She's very powerful, they say."

"Perhaps." The dragon could barely contain his excitement. A chance to be avenged. He had awaited this moment for hundreds of years. Thousands. His golden scales glittered in the meager light as he shifted. "You will sacrifice her to me?"

"You will spare my life?" the boy countered.

The dragon snorted his displeasure, flames leaping from his moist nostrils. This family had caused him no end of degradation and pain. That he needed one of them to set him free gnawed at the dragon's stomach, causing a belch of fire to erupt in the cavern. Rainbows of color exploded as the light struck the jewels and coins that littered the stone floor, and Dajal knew he had never looked more fearsome.

The flames licked at the boy, causing his hair to curl like moist brown moss, and he cried out, quaking to the point that the dragon feared he might perish.

"Why should I take the chance?" the dragon sighed. "After all, I have you. Why should I go to the village where your kind would no doubt attempt to kill me?"

The boy's eyes shifted frantically, appearing too large and too dark against the pallor of his skin. He struggled to swallow, his dry tongue licking his lips.

"She ... she has the Sun Shard," the boy croaked.

Dajal tensed despite himself. The Sun Shard. The crystal that meant his revenge. And his freedom. His eyes flicked to the darkest corner of his cave where he had hidden the Shadow Shard. Together, the Sun and the Shadow meant his freedom. And the dragonslayer's death.

"Very well," Dajal murmured, allowing his talon to pierce the boy's soft skin. The boy cringed in response, his whimpers causing Dajal no small amount of satisfaction.

When he lifted his claw, the boy scrambled to his feet, scurrying out of the dragon's reach. "If you do not wish to go to the village, I can bring my sister here."

The dragon arched a brow above his huge eyes, glittering like rubies, his scaled snout curled with amusement. He knew he appeared fearsome, a beast of wicked horror.

"Why should I believe you? If I let you go, why would she bother to return?" Dajal demanded.

The boy shook his head, his little brain no doubt attempting to find a solution to the problem and find a way free.

"I suppose," drawled the dragon, "that I can believe you. After all, if you fail -- if your sister fails to appear here by midnight this eve -- I will attack your village. I will burn it as I have never burned your lands before."

The boy dropped to his knees. "No, no, please!"

Dajal snorted, sending a spurt of flame across the gigantic cavern, the jewels and gold glittering richly in the bellow of fire. "If you send her to me, you will have nothing to fear."

Finally the boy nodded, tears streaming down his face. He backed away, darting glances over his shoulder as if he believed the dragon was toying with him, that he would not really let him go.

"You must go to him! You must!" The cries were much the same, coming one upon the other, from the mouths of all those present.

Tinara sat upon the worn, wooden table in the tavern long owned by her family. She held her hands clenched tightly in front of her, her knuckles white, the only sign of the turmoil roiling within her gut. Her aquiline face, so smooth and graceful, appeared serene and calm to those who scrambled for her attention.

She glanced at her brother, Jac, his side now wrapped, though blood was beginning to color the pristine bandages. Finally she nodded to the assembly, the townsfolk who had gathered on her tavern's balcony upon hearing her brother's story.

"She'll do it!" someone cried.

"Of course! She's the dragonslayer!" another voice called.

Tinara shook her head ruefully. One of her distant ancestors had managed to kill the ancient dragon, Kala, mate to Dajal who still roamed free. Or so the legends said. Since that time, Tinara's family had been dubbed "dragonslayers."

"She will heal the land! She will kill the dragon and end the blight that ruins our crops!" a woman yelled, clapping her hands. Tinara noticed it was Nala, a widowed housewife who was trying to raise four boys on her own. The blight had hit her family hard.

"The dragon is the cause of all our problems! It is time the dragonslayer bring peace to our village!"

More voices joined in, all calling out the glory that Tinara was sure to bring to the village. No one questioned her ability. She was direct descendent of the dragonslayer, after all.

Her gaze swept past the balcony of her well-polished tavern at the dried land. Trees withered, crops wouldn't grow. It was as if the land itself was dying, stretching taut across the face of the earth until it ruptured, like drying flesh cracking on a decaying skull. She swallowed hard as she remembered the last quake that hit the village. A large crevice still split the market square from the stables, the largest and most visible reminder of the sickness marring the lands.

She forced herself to look at the peaceful little town, the wooden buildings that lined the sides of the center street, though the crevice required make-shift bridges to cross from one side to the other. From here she could see the nearest of the outlying farmlands which should have been green with ripe fruit and vegetables for the fall harvest, but were seared and wilted, and much too sparse.

Unfortunately, Tinara had no idea how to solve the problem. She was a barmaid. Well, a tavern owner really, but that was the extent of her expertise. She did know how to wield a dagger, though that would be of little use to her against a dragon.

And she didn't believe the dragon was really the cause of the problems, other than the most recent threat he had issued her brother. But certainly he couldn't be the cause of the sickness in the land.

A faint breeze ruffled the tendrils of long auburn hair that had escaped her braid. The breeze was hot as the summer, though it should be well into the cooling drafts of autumn by now.

She sighed, unconsciously fingering her knife, digging its point into the wooden table, something that she often did when worried, and something which caused her no end of work when she realized she had done it and had to sand down the tables. Around her the crowd joked and babbled about her deeds to come, their faces alive and excited as most had not been for a long time.

Listening to their accounts of how she would best the dragon, she smiled sadly. It was little wonder they thought she could do it. She had the magic, after all.

Oh, it wasn't any great magic, but the townsfolk held her in awe because of it. She thought of the ability she had to light candles with her power, or to increase the heat in the stone fireplace where hot potato-stew bubbled on the cauldron. Certainly nothing that could kill a dragon.

And aside from her heritage and the magic, she was considered an odd girl, a girl meant for other things than simple tavern work. A girl too odd to be treated as a friend or companion.

She wore breeches and tunics and kept her dagger near at hand at all times. She often hunted in the forests, providing food for the tavern so that their precious coin did not have to be spent in the market. She also adventured into the caverns and cliffs near the Dragon Mount, finding odd bits of treasure to help buy goods and repairs for herself and the town, but always she was alone. Different.

During one of her explorations, her only escape from the rigors of daily life, she had found the Sun Shard. She fingered the leather thong around her neck, her hand sliding down to the Shard which nestled on the cord safely between her breasts. It was what her ancestor had used to kill the dragon.

And what she apparently must use to kill this one.

The crowd began to disperse, confident that the dragonslayer would kill the beast, or at least meet whatever demands he made, and thereby save the village. Her eyes met those of Warin, a village warrior who had sought more than once for her hand in marriage.

Worry creased his brow, and he made his way through the lingering townsfolk, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You can't do it, Tinara," he said softly. "He will kill you."

Tinara shrugged as though such a concern meant little. Warin's face darkened.

"You have too little regard for yourself! You must be responsible! Think of Jac!"

It was a tact that Warin had used in the past in his vain attempts to gain her consent to marry.

He seemed to think he could change her, to make her "normal."

"Responsible?" she repeated, her brow arching, her green eyes flashing angrily. "I'm the 'dragonslayer'! I can't bear much more responsibility than that!"

Warin was already shaking his head. "You're a woman, not a warrior," he said softly.

"I am first-born, Warin. That is enough. And I have the Stone."

Warin tensed at the mention of the Shard. She knew what he was thinking, that she had come across it while foolishly exploring nearby caverns, a pastime which he fully intended to curb once she wed him. If she didn't get herself killed first.

"And now, the dragon knows I have it," she added. She glanced at Jac, whose face flushed guiltily, and she reached out and squeezed his arm, assuring him the fault was not his.

"It is not your concern." His eyes were hard as he gazed towards the distant slumbering mountain where Dajal made his home. Even there the death of the land could be seen clearly in the bleak, withered brown that covered the peaks.

"Not my concern?" she echoed. "How can you say that?" She sighed, shaking her head, her own gaze returning to the land around her village, little more than dust in the heat.

"I should be the one."

She knew that was what bothered him most. He wanted to be the hero instead of a simple smith's son. He had made his way as a soldier, fighting when the king had attacked the faraway land of Bin, a place that most villagers had never even heard of, much less thought of risking their lives for in the distant wars of their king.

"It isn't your fight, Warin." She placed a gentle hand on his bare forearm, her smooth skin a sharp contrast to his, toughened and tanned.

"At least don't go alone." His eyes pinned hers, and she could see the depths of his feelings for her. Yet, she could not bring herself to return his emotions. She had never felt strong emotions, especially what they called 'love', for anyone, except maybe Jac. She loved her brother dearly.

She nodded acquiescence, though she knew she would leave without him. His face relaxed in response and he smiled warmly, pulling her close for a quick, rough embrace, then embarrassed, strode off without a backward glance.

"Tinara?" Jac asked after everyone had left. "He'll kill you, this dragon." Though he was only seven, he tried to be brave.

A shiver ran through her. What would he do when she had gone? For she believed as he did. Dajal would likely kill her. She was all that Jac had.

Yet, even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. The townsfolk loved Jac as they never loved her. He was not first-born. He had no strange magic or strange ways about him. If she died, there would be no end of people willing to care for him until he was old enough to run the tavern himself.

"No," she said now, "I'll defeat him somehow." She smiled, and he grinned, a seven-year-old's relief shining on his face. She ruffled his hair and swatted at his bottom, sending him inside to rest, her own thoughts watching the setting sun.

Soon. She would have to go soon to face the dragon.

Pity she felt sorry for the beast.

Dajal opened an eye, sniffing the air. Still no scent of human. His old bones ached with age, but he refused to think of that now.

He shuffled his huge form around, flapping and refolding his wings as he turned. With a snippet of fire, he lit a pile of bones and debris, the flames lighting the cavern. He had little enough fire left in his belly these days, and his exertions with the boy had taxed even that. Still, he felt cold, and the flames warmed him.

Yet, the flames did not light one corner of the cavern. That area held darkness as though the shadows ate at the light, devouring it greedily. There, Dajal turned his attention. The Shadow Shard.

Thousands of years ago, the boy's family had ruined his life. They had taken the only thing that had meant anything to him -- his beloved Kala. They had no children, and now, Dajal was the last. The last of the dragons.

For thousands of years Dajal had ruled over the lands, his fearsome form able to fly from one end of the world to the other. But forever alone.

He mused over his history, so mired in the depths of time that he remembered little. He had never found Kala's body, had only seen the crater where she had been demolished. He rocked back and forth, his weight causing the cavern to rumble as he shifted.

And now he would have revenge. Before he died, he would take the dragonslayer with him.

He must have pondered for some time, for he was taken completely by surprise when he heard the unmistakable crunch of human footsteps.

Grinning in anticipation, he turned his gigantic body to face the entrance. The time had come. He finally had the Sun Shard in his grasp. Once fitted to the Shadow Shard, he would be free. And the dragonslayer would die.

She did not appear at all as he expected.

"I am Tinara," the woman stated calmly as she stepped into the light.

The fire flickered across her small, perfectly hewn face. Her eyes, he could see they were green, seemed to glow as richly as any emerald he had in his possession, and his heart clenched in his chest, for his beloved Kala had once had eyes such as those. Her hair, which she wore bound in a tight braid that draped over her shoulder and hung to her waist, was the color of dragon-fire. She was dressed as a man, tight breeches and loose, white shirt with a dagger hanging at her side. Across her back was a bow and quiver of arrows.

And she wasn't afraid.

Dajal didn't know why she caused him such discomfort. She stared at him, her eyes meeting his, her gaze direct and challenging. As she watched him, he felt something odd in his chest. Something like ... fear. It was unlike anything he had felt in eons of time.

"You are the woman?" Dajal demanded. "The boy's sister?"

Her jaw clenched at the mention of her brother. "I am. His side required seven stitches, dragon. You didn't have to hurt him." Her green eyes watched him, full of accusations.

"You dare to lecture me?" Dajal roared, astonished. He shifted, fluttering his wings as he

watched the girl. She didn't stink of fear.

Tinara shrugged. "I am here because you demanded it. You didn't expect me to be polite, did you?"

Dajal sputtered, tiny flames leaping beneath his teeth, teeth that were likely as long as the girl's legs. His talons closed into fists, capturing hundreds of jewels, though his claws were now arthritic, so he released the jewels, a nervous habit.

"Did you bring the Sun Shard?" he finally asked, watching the girl.

Tinara's head jerked as though she had been slapped. Slowly she nodded, reaching into her blouse, pulling free the cord. She held up the Shard, dangling from the leather string, a small crystal. It seemed to gather the light in the room, compounding it, increasing it until even the dragon had to turn from its brightness.

He hissed in anticipation. This was the moment he had dreamt of for thousands of years. He would obtain his revenge and break free.

"Why do you want this stone so much?" Tinara asked, reminding him of her presence.

"Do you not know of its powers?"

Tinara hesitated. "It was ... used to kill your mate," she said.

Dajal rumbled, the cavern thundering with his pain even after all these years.

"But there is more, I think. More to the power of the Shard," she added, her other hand stroking the dagger's pommel.

Dajal's head ducked as though she had thrown a boulder rather than words. "Why do you say that?"

Tinara cocked her head, arching a brow. His tone indicated that he, too, felt there was more.

"Our family has passed down stories," she told him, plopping down on an ornate chest, its open lid revealing jewels and gold which cascaded over its sides. "For one thing, I think you have a stone too." She peered at him as though trying to read his expression.

It wasn't natural.

"Why do you not fear me?" Dajal demanded. Humans always feared him. Despised him. Stayed well away of his wrath.

Her eyes widened as if she was startled by the question.

"Should I?" she asked.

Dajal scowled, his ruby eyes glowing more brightly in the light from the Sun Shard.

Tinara couldn't help herself. She grinned crookedly. "You sound rather perturbed by the fact, dragon."

Flames shot from his moist nostrils, and he shook his head grumpily.

Finally he spoke. "I too have a Shard. It is called the Shadow Shard."

Tinara gasped, leaning forward, her eyes dancing at the mystery. "Shadow Shard! All I learned of the stories before my father died," at this her face darkened somewhat, "was that the Sun Shard was powerful beyond belief, and had somehow killed your Kala." She paused at that, flashing an expression so filled with sorrow at the dragon that he actually took a step back.

"Why do you look saddened by what your ancestor did?" he demanded angrily. He should kill her now. Yet something prevented him. He wanted to hear more.

She shrugged. "I, too, lost my family; everyone but Jac. I can imagine what it is like to be alone." Her eyes were distant, and she jumped in surprise when the dragon moved.

His head swung level with hers. "You know nothing!" he spat, sparks of flame flying at his words. "My agony has spanned thousands of years. What do you know of such pain."

Tinara regarded him solemnly for a moment. Finally, she shrugged. "That's fair," she admitted. "You're right. I can't understand such pain." Again her expression shifted to one of compassion.

Dajal snorted in disgust. "What else does your family say of the Shards?"

"Well, supposedly, the Sun Shard was hidden because of its incredible power. The legend says that it will be found only in a time of great need." She shrugged. "I've found it."

Dajal stared at her for a moment, his expression blank. "Rubbish and nonsense," he muttered.

"I never knew about another Shard, though," she mused, her eyes having found the corner suspiciously shrouded in shadow.

Dajal swung his huge head to follow her gaze. "Yes...the Shadow Shard. I, fortunately, did hear of both Shards. When joined, they are power incarnate."

Tinara's eyes widened with excitement. "Really?" she breathed.

Dajal rumbled. "How can you be excited about this? Aren't you afraid of anything?"

She raised her brows and regarded him with pursed lips, her arms crossed over her chest. The Sun Shard hung from the leather cord sparkling with life and vitality. "You are the one who called this meeting. I believe you are planning my demise? Why shouldn't I find something interesting in the last moments of my life?"

Not knowing how to respond to that ridiculous statement, Dajal once again turned towards the Shadow Shard.

"Besides, I think I'm safe with you." Tinara appeared surprised by her own words, but once they were out, she nodded.

Dajal reared his head back and belched with laughter. The mountain rumbled with his mirth.

"Safe?" he chuckled. "Safe? I am your worst nightmare! I devour human villages!"

"You did, once."

"What are you talking about?" The dragon shifted uncomfortably, his bones aching.

"You are old." It was not a question. "I see the golden scales peeling away. I know the stories of how you once roamed the earth, and yes, you did attack villages and pillage goods." She spread her arms, motioning to the treasure. "But you haven't for years. For hundreds of years."

Dajal refused to acknowledge the truth. For a long moment he said nothing, and Tinara appeared to be thinking deep thoughts of her own.

After a time, Tinara shook her head of her thoughts and glanced at Dajal as though just remembering he was there. It was a new experience for the dragon.

"Perhaps," she said, "we should join the pieces of the Shards and discover what happens."

Dajal could barely breathe. His whole existence for as long as he could remember had been preparing for this moment. Yet now that it was here, now that he could kill the last of the dragonslayers, he found he hesitated.

Tinara hopped off the chest, her eyes focusing on the Shadow Shard. Glancing at the dragon, she moved over to the darkest recesses of the cavern, holding the Sun Shard before her. She slipped the Shard from around her neck, leaning towards the Shadow Shard so that the pieces touched.

"Wait!" Dajal cried. But it was too late.

Light erupted in the cavern, then shadows overtook the brightness. Thunder sounded within the floor and Tinara was tossed from her feet.

Dajal groaned as the cavern around them creaked, cascades of rock falling around them. He quickly stepped over the girl, sheltering her from the debris.

It was a needless gesture for all that it surprised him that he did it. Protecting the dragonslayer. Impossible.

But, the world around them burned white, and Dajal knew they were no longer in the cavern, but in some realm where time and land as he knew it did not exist.

Perhaps he was dead.

He looked beneath his talons, seeing Tinara sheltering safely under his bulk, her eyes finally showing some tendril of fear. If he was dead, why would the dragonslayer be here? Perhaps his punishment for his years of pillaging. He smiled wryly. Kala would never have approved.

At her name, a shape appeared before him, undulating as though speaking from within great billows of heat.

"Dajal."

It was Kala. Impossible. He must be dead. But Tinara cringed back against him, her eyes wide, and he knew she saw her too.

"Kala ... ?"

"Oh, it has been so long, though I had hoped I would never see you again," she whispered, though the words seemed to thunder in the strange whiteness that surrounded them.

"Hoped never ... ?" Dajal shook his head wondering briefly if he had been struck in the head by the falling cavern.

"If you are here, with her, then the world must be in dire need."

Tinara gasped at that statement, her gaze moving from Dajal to Kala.

"My ... my ancestor killed you!" she cried.

Kala stared at her for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it would have seemed that way. I never thought how it would be for him upon returning to his people. We just had no choice," she stated.

Dajal moved forward as if to touch his lost mate, to verify by feel what his brain was telling him simply could not be.

"No, my darling, I am not real," she told him sadly.

"Not ... ?"

"I am simply an image that was saved by the Shards. Only the joining of the two could release it. I am here to answer your questions, for we knew it must come to this."

Dajal and Tinara exchanged glances.

"What are you talking about?" Tinara demanded, finally standing, her hands firmly on her hips.

"All those years ago, the lands lay fallow," Kala began. "The earth itself was dying. I was barren."

Dajal opened his mouth to object, but was stopped by Kala's icy glare.

"I was barren, as was the world. Dav, that was his name, your ancestor," Kala said to Tinara, "came to me. He knew the magic of the dragons and he came to me pleading to save the lands. But I could not. I was sick at heart for my own barren womb. I could not even heal myself, much less the lands around me.

"But he had magic too. Together we realized that the magic of fire merged with the magic of water and air was what the land needed. We created the Shards, but it was not enough. Being the makers of the magic, we were unable to invoke it. We needed two others to carry the seeds of the power."

She stopped speaking, watching both Dajal and Tinara who were staring at her with identical dumbstruck looks, if there was really a way to compare a human to a dragon.

Sighing, she continued. "You were the two."

Tinara scowled. "Me? I wasn't even there!"

Dajal shook his head in confusion. "What are you saying, beloved?"

"Dav cast his magic upon me, the magic of air and water. At the same moment, I let loose my spell, the spell of fire. Upon you, Dajal."

"I felt no spell! I only saw your ashes -- all that was left of you!" At the memory, the dragon felt tears well in his eyes. Angrily he shook his head.

"You felt nothing. It was the dragon fire. Since that moment, every time you breathe your flames, you have breathed life back into the earth. But now you are old. The flames are dying, as is the earth."

"But," Tinara interrupted, "but what happened to you? Did my ancestor ... did Dav's spell kill you? I don't understand."

Kala shook her head. "No. I was transformed." For a moment her own face clouded with pain.

Dajal sputtered. "Transformed?! The human killed you!"

"No, my love. I was transformed. Into a human. Dav's wife." She looked pained for a moment. "As a human I was able to give birth. I was able to bear humans with the magic of water and air. Through that line, what you call the 'dragonslayers', the world was renewed."

Dajal sank down and would have crushed Tinara beneath him if she had not scrambled out of the way. His bones felt old beyond reckoning. He did not want to hear any more.

"But now your fire is dying. The world must be dying once more."

"What are we to do?" Tinara demanded.

Kala's form began to shimmer. "I cannot help with that. My only purpose was to explain the past in the time of future need."

"Kala!" Dajal cried as her form began to fade. "Kala, wait!"

But slowly, she faded to nothing, and only the whiteness remained. Then, even that began to fade, until the landscape again appeared normal around them. They were out in a valley below the Dragon Mount.

The earth had ceased its quaking while they were away, if they really were "away."

Dajal opened his jaws and howled. It was a howl of pain and grief beyond human imagining. Tinara felt tears stream down her face at his pain, and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his massive chest, hugging him tightly.

"She sacrificed herself for the land," Tinara said softly when the keening had stopped. "We, too, must find a way to save the land."

"What do I care for the land?" Dajal demanded, glancing around at the withered shrubs, the brown grass. "Thousands of lonely, pain-filled years!"

"Your breath is the land. You are the land. And me."

He glanced down at her. "And I am dying."

She took one look at his morose demeanor and her hands went to her hips. "Quit feeling sorry for yourself! This is bigger than you or me. Kala sacrificed more than you understand! Can you let that be in vain?"

Dajal's nostrils flared. "What would you have me do?"

Tinara took a deep breath, for there was only one way to save the land. She knew it in her heart. "You must transform me."

"What?!" Dajal croaked.

"You must transform me into a dragon."

Dajal stared at her, his ruby eyes so large they would have made a professional thief cry. "I know no magic."

Tinara swallowed. "But the Shards do."

Dajal glanced to where the Shards rested. He balked, shaking his head. "What good would it do? I'm dying."

"I will bear you children."

Dajal's mouth dropped open, small tendrils of smoke curling from the depths.

Tinara grinned at his expression. "I think I loved you on sight, dragon," she stated. "I have never felt close to other humans. I always admired you, your golden form. I saw you once, when I was young. You flew over the village in the light of a half-moon. I was enchanted."

Dajal was unable to mutter even a word.

"I am of Kala's blood."

"Impossible," he muttered.

"It is the only hope. For all of us."

Grumbling about foolishness, Dajal raised his talon and grasped the melded Shards in his claw. It felt right. He closed his eyes and immediately felt the power. It came naturally, without thought.

The impact must have killed her. That was the only thought Dajal could muster as the force of the magic left his body and struck the human girl. Yet he felt stronger for its use. The magic revived him, making him feel almost young.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

He found himself face-to-face with a stunning golden dragon. She smiled at him, and he felt something stir within him that he had thought dead for more than a millennia.

"So, how do I look?" she asked saucily.

Dajal didn't know he could blush.

"I must say, you certainly look nice to me," she added, noting his scales were a richer gold than they had been before.

"What have you done?!" came a screech from a dried ledge. "What have you done to her?" Jac jumped from the ledge, a short drop, easily escaping Warin's clutching fist.

Other villagers, though only the most hearty, came into view, climbing over the ridge to the valley, having come to watch the demise of the dragon at the dragonslayer's hands.

Tinara turned, fluttering her new wings.

"Oh, Jac, isn't it wonderful?" she cried happily.

Jac stopped, staring in wonder at his sister. "Tinara? Is it really you?"

Laughing, she turned to the villagers. "It is me!" She glanced over her shoulder at Dajal who still seemed a bit dazed, then laughed again.

"We will save the land," she told them. "Our magics together will keep you safe for years to come!"

The villagers exchanged glances, some eyeing Dajal warily, though there was no doubt this was Tinara. Warin's mouth was grim as his eyes wandered her entire form.

"Oh, Warin," she said softly. "It was not meant to be. You will find a maiden who will love you with all your heart. I have other duties."

Warin grunted, a half-hearted attempt at a laugh. "You always were different, Tinara. I just had no idea how different."

Tinara grinned, liking the feel of this new body. It felt normal somehow. "Take care of Jac, will you?"

Warin nodded. Already the land appeared greener, somehow kindled with life. He would watch her brother, but he would never forget her.

"We will not forget your sacrifice," Warin told her, suppressing a grimace as he eyed her new form.

To his surprise, Tinara laughed, her sharp teeth glimmering in the light of the moon. She glanced at Dajal who was watching her intently, something of life and heat firing his eyes.

"I wouldn't call it a sacrifice," she murmured happily.

The End

I'd like to make a comment about this article.

This page has been visited Hit Counter times.