Page 12 of The Witch & the Dragon

He snorted.

Not at all! Just friendly banter, right?

Yeah, totally!

Interesting that it didn’t look like he was the only one aiming for contact. It made him feel a little less weird for wanting it. Hopefully, his fire magic would be enough to ward the dryad off since he didn’t really fancy his chances if a fully wild supernatural creature decided to go toe to toe with him. While he might be able to throw around fire and shake off his human skin into a draconic one, the wild fae had a frightening set of skills and morals that those without magic or those born into a normal world would never quite comprehend.

With a small lump in his throat, he remembered a hunting trip that his family had gone on once; they’d all taken off into the sky, flying toward a certain mountain range heavy with the supernatural and with some delicious animals whose meat his family liked to cure and dry into jerky.

In those lonely, untamed mountains, certain spirits lingered over the range. Some were dangerous to human life, and some were dangerous to draconic life.

One of the creatures, a small type of fae, had faced off with his family when they camped in an area that directly intervened with the territory of those mountain spirits. The whole family had been there back then, including the now-hated second uncle, who had confronted the spirit with his usual air of arrogance, threatening to transform, to breathe fire over everything.

Turned out that aggravating the mountain spirits wasn’t wise, as their camp came under attack from some of nature’s finest that evening, from bears to wolves to eagles to ants and stinging insects, and they all needed to beat a hasty retreat away from the spot and collectively agreed never to go there again.

He remembered how his mother raged against the uncle for some time, saying that they might have been able to leave peacefully or even stay there if they’d just been a tad more respectful to the creatures, but no, of course, he had to stomp around and flap his stupid wings and huff.

They did get their food, their jerky, and quite the adventure out of it, but it had left an indelible image on young Tiran’s mind – something that overshadowed all his future interactions with the uncle, knowing how he had disrespected the wild in the face of his own assumed power.

A part of him feared a repeat when they encountered the dryad. That somehow, he might take that role of arrogance, threatening something he simply couldn’t understand. That fear motivated him to do long hours of research on dryads, on proper conduct in the supernatural, and on understanding them on the level they deserved and needed.

Bonus points if he didn’t screw up his first official outing with Chloe, either. That’d be nice.

Chapter Five – Chloe

Sometimes, Chloe wondered if she was capable of ever making the correct decisions in life. You’d think that the added advantage of sometimes being able to peer into the future might help to make her present decisions a lot more solid. She’d just click her fingers, and there, now she’d know the best thing to do.

Currently, she wondered if coming to this academy wasn’t about the worst decision she’d ever made. Maybe she should have tried the hippie school instead or the book school. Either one of them seemed a little less… problematic compared to Dreadmor’s approach to magic and the world. Dreadmor wanted everyone soaking in magic, claiming it enhanced their magic, in general, to be surrounded by it. It taught them to wield their powers better, and apparently, they just allowed their students to venture into wild spots on the slim chance of getting an artifact that they might then take from her if it happened to be too powerful.

That seemed unfair somehow. But she didn’t make the rules, and she did at least concede that perhaps some artifacts might be too much in the hands of some.

The team leading her into the swamplands consisted of Professor Z’Hana, Tiran, and someone she’d never seen before but was told they could rewind time by up to twenty seconds just in case something went wrong.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Chloe said, while stuck in the car crawling toward the swamp wedged in between Tiran and the time traveler. “Are you the one who saved the president?”

The woman, who had dark hair and dark eyes, gave a friendly smile. “No, but I am her sister. I haven’t saved any presidents recently. I hope that doesn’t make you doubt my abilities.”

“Wait… are you telling me that two sisters both have the incredibly rare time travel magic?” Chloe gaped. She’d been a part of the summer class, where she tried to work on her magic alongside other people with time- and space-based powers – including a time traveler in their very own class. One who was now dating Harrow. Lucky of them, really.

“Runs in the family, doesn’t it?” Eleanor smiled. “When you have magic of our sort – when you have a magic that others can use for their benefit, you can guarantee that somehow or another you’ll be, hmm, nudged in that direction. Luckily, I went the quieter route, so the public didn’t know about me. But that doesn’t mean my powers are any less useful.”

This, of course, set off a babble of questions about time travel, but by the end of the questions, some of the shine had worn off. No, they couldn’t travel far back in time. The most someone had managed was a few minutes into the past, and even then, that was never repeated. When they went into the past as well, they only carried back memories, so sometimes precious seconds might be wasted explaining that, yes, they traveled back, and no, they don’t have time to explain. Then, it didn’t quite sound so glamorous to have the power.

Still, one person found Eleanor and Chloe’s powers remarkable, and that happened to be the huge dragon shifter currently bumping her right shoulder. As the smallest, Chloe found herself as the inevitable stuffing in the sandwich. Still, it could be worse. She got to manage some discreet glances Tiran’s way, noting how big his hands were, how intense the shade of his eyes.

The scenery around them transformed into a swirl of murky green and earthen browns. It instantly felt like crossing a line into a different world entirely. Just as before, when they went on the trip together and encountered the oddly terrifying figure of Jenny Greenteeth.

The car parked by the side of a patch of long, bright green grass, and the three escorts guided Chloe along, with Z’Hana taking the lead.

“Are you sure that the hag would have spoken to the dryad?” Chloe asked, once again, nerves full in her throat. Something about stepping into this place prickled the skin and left the eerie sensation that somewhere in the woods, eyes glared at the back of their heads. She unconsciously stepped closer to Tiran, who provided by far the biggest physical presence out of everyone there. The dragon shifter flicked her a reassuring smile, though she saw quiet anxiety in his own movements, which a confident expression couldn’t cover up.

Z’Hana held up a hand as a small, wavering light danced into their path. “We’re here to visit the dryad,” she told the light, which bobbed insistently. “We are escorting someone whom she will want to see.”

The strange light hovered in place for a moment before bobbing out of sight. Z’Hana sighed in relief. “They can be nasty. Remember this – under no circumstances do you ever follow them when you see them. They will lead you into danger, and there won’t be much you can do about it.”

They all walked more cautiously now, taking care to avoid any markers that denoted supernatural territory, as it could invoke their wrath, such as not stepping on a mushroom circle or knocking over a small figurine and also avoiding disturbing the waters of a very still pond, which had something blue and glowing beneath. Still, waters ran dee was the saying. Also, never drink from a still pool.

Deeper into the woods they went until the trees thickened, their roots growing over and creating obstacles in their path. Deeper until the forest became so densely packed that barely any light filtered through. Chloe’s hand bumped against Tiran’s and, on reflex, clutched it, ignoring the shock of contact and instead looking for comfort. Tiran hesitated before his fingers squeezed gently around hers until the path became too narrow, and they needed to walk in single file.

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