It was just beginning to grow dark when the lone rider on his equally tired horse paused at the foot of the mountain that rose dauntingly before them. Beneath him, his mount shifted uneasily and shook its brown and white head, sending strands of his mane in every direction. “Easy Spot,” the rider soothed, patting the warm neck with a comforting, leather-gloved hand.

                With the ease of years of practice, he threw one leg over the saddle and slid off, stretching limbs held too long in one position as he snagged the reins, tugging his mount forward. “There’s someone up there,” he advised his four-legged companion, nodding towards the mountainside with his shock of black hair lying messily against his scalp.

                Hunching his thin shoulders against the slight chill, he gripped his cloak tighter about his person and they began their ascent. The woods were eerie, to say the least, but they were mostly quiet with no hint of predators in the area. That alone was odd, though he was briefly reassured by the sound of a bird here and there, letting him know the way was clear. A strange, pungent and musky scent clung to the woods, the smell familiar in a way that made his hair stand on end.

                Spot smelled it too, whickering quietly next to him, butting his rider’s shoulder worriedly. The rider paused and hugged his horse’s head close, brushing the long face with a soothing while his sharp eyes roamed the area. Shadows played tricks on his vision as the last vestiges of the sun disappeared behind the mountain, giving a false light from around the natural barrier. His hand shifted cautiously to the longsword at his right hip when he finally heard something else move through the forest.

                Dark brown eyes narrowed when he saw a shadow among shadows shift, larger than him and his horse combined. That was no bear… It hadn’t noticed them yet, focused instead on something just up the hill. He saw it then: one pair of glowing eyes blinking in the sliver of moonlight that revealed its presence. The rider’s hand tightened on Spot’s nose when he watched the dark creature shift, preparing to strike.

                In a burst of speed with a quiet growl, the monster pounced, fangs flashing in the dim light as its prey tried to flee. Spot shied away from the severed death cry as teeth crunched through bone and muscle alike, claws digging into the ground before it secured its prey and quietly walked up the mountain, paying the horse and rider no attention. The young man watched as the creature’s tail swayed loosely above the ground instead of dragging behind, its body featuring what appeared to be large folded wings pressed close to its side.

                “I’ll be damned,” he whispered to himself, making sure his sword was loose in its scabbard as he reached to check on the lance strapped to Spot’s side. “It’s a dragon, boy,” he confirmed, nodding his head once. It was a scrawny thing too but as least he knew the source of the pungent smell. He frowned at the size and then shrugged to himself as he spoke to his horse again. “I doubt it’ll be worth much but let’s get to work,” he commented, patting Spot on the shoulder before he tugged on the reins and started after the surprisingly quiet monster ahead of them.

                In the growing gloom of night, they tracked the dragon by scent and its distinct footprints. Large, clawed feet formed unmistakable furrows in the ground which were easy for them to follow, even half blind as they were. The dragon hunter frowned thoughtfully when he noticed a small dwelling rising above the trees lying in the exact direction his target was heading. Quickly, he checked his person and tied Spot to a tree nearby, making sure the reins wouldn’t simply come undone if he tugged on them nervously.

                “Wait here,” he urged, removing the lance from its harness as he carried it in one hand, removing his sword with the other. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, certain the little dragon wouldn’t pose too much of a problem.

                As he approached the shabby cottage looking… thing, he slowed further. He discovered there was someone else present standing behind the small fire that burned merrily in front of their abode, an aged woman by the looks of it. She was dressed in an off-white dress, with long sleeves, the fabric cinched about her waist with a pale gray scarf. Her long, black hair hung about her shoulders in elegant, straight strands, framing an aged but beautiful face with defined cheekbones and warm brown eyes.

                She looked off to the side of her rather overgrown clearing and held her hand out in entreaty. “Minnie,” she called, taking a small step towards the woods with a smile on her face. “Come now, dear one,” she laughed when the person she was calling didn’t come into immediate sight.

                The hunter looked around in confusion, seeing nothing of this Minnie. Perhaps she was just a crazy old woman living in the mountains? That was possible. Really, the place was barely habitable and there was nothing here…

                “No. You can’t eat him,” she laughed lightly, beckoning again with a downward wave of her fingers. That caught his attention. “He won’t hurt you either. Will you hunter?” she asked, turning her far too perceptive gaze upon his hiding spot, unerringly sighting on him as he crouched against the mountainside.

                More than a little surprised, the hunter blinked at her and stood up awkwardly. Crazy old lady was still a possibility but with that sort of calling out, he feared he may have stumbled upon something else entirely. “I’m sorry, miss,” he hesitantly began, remaining where he stood.

                She smiled at the title and laughed in amusement. “I am no miss, hunter. Come where I may see your face,” she beckoned with both hands, sidestepping the fire to present herself fully.

                “You will forgive me if I don’t join you since I know not who your friend is,” he responded, gripping his sword hilt tightly, a pit of nerves swirling in his stomach. He was beginning to think that coming up this mountain for a nigh on worthless dragon’s hide was a bad idea indeed.

                The woman tilted her head in acceptance and glanced to her side again. “Minnie! Come!” she stated again, firmer this time, almost like a parent chastising their child. Her expression lightened perceptibly when the very same dragon he’d been tracking apologetically slunk from the shadows with his head held low, peering up at her with bright, golden eyes.

                Contrary to what he’d just heard from , the hunter immediately reacted and readied his lance as he ran into the clearing, waving the woman back. She did not move at all, but he continued anyway. “Beware lady. I shall handle this foul beast,” he growled, sword held ready in his left hand while he sighted on the creature with the weapon in his right.

                The so-called-Minnie roared in defiance, revealing a frightening maw of teeth as his wings flared partially open, tail lashing angrily behind him. He gathered his feet under him in preparation to pounce but froze, his mouth snapping shut with an audible clack. It seemed almost as if he’d been commanded to stop, though the hunter had heard nothing. The dragon’s large eyes remained locked on him all the same, however.

                “That is not necessary,” the woman explained, stepping in front of him as she pressed the head of his lance to the ground with her fingertips. If he didn’t know better, she was not all she appeared since he was using almost all his strength to try and keep it upright. “Minnie is my son,” she explained with a gentle gesture towards the creature that was easily equal their height when he was hunched low to the ground as he was now.

                “Eh…?” the hunter murmured in disbelief, heart still racing though he made no effort to try and pick his weapon up. He jerked in surprise when the dragon growled something that sounded far too much like a question.

                “Of course he thinks I’m a crazy old woman,” she laughed, smiling brightly at the dragon with a set of yellowing-from-age but obviously well-taken care of teeth.

                “You can understand him?!” he asked incredulously, jaw dropping open slightly.

“Yes,” she smiled, eyes crinkling with fine lines appearing at the corners. “Come hunter,” she urged, turning on her heels, hair and robes flaring briefly behind her as she retreated indoors. “Your horse will be fine,” she reassured when he glanced back down the mountain and then at the now complacent dragon who had yet to look away.

                Biting his tongue, the hunter reluctantly stabbed his lance into the ground – his trainer would have smacked him for that – and sheathed his sword, keeping his sight on the dragon as he followed the older woman. The door opened with the barest of touches and revealed an interior of but a single room filled to the brim with herbs, tinctures, various powders, and vials of liquids he couldn’t name. There was a small sleeping fur in the corner and an equally small work table on the other side of her ‘room’. “You’re a witch,” he stated quietly, certain he was about to be bespelled.

                She merely laughed in delight at his statement and nodded in quiet agreement. “I have been called many things in my time. Witch. Hag. Sorceress. Enchantress.” Her gaze flickered to him on the last word and he froze, seeing a beautiful young woman in her stead. Almost immediately, the illusion faded as she waved it away carelessly and he took a shuddering breath, confused by her witchery. “I prefer Zi Chong or Michelle if you like.”

                His jaw worked but no words came out as he floundered to make sense of things. By the first name offered, she was clearly not from this land, but he could have guessed as much by the fact of what she was – and her appearance. She looked foreign for sure. Likely, she was from the south, though why remained to be seen… Hand gestures near his head helped to prompt words to form and he finally managed, “I’m confused.”

                “And well you should be,” Michelle nodded, stepping close and grasping his right hand in hers. She held tight with a surprising amount of strength so that he couldn’t pull away. Swiftly, she slid the top part of his glove down to reveal the span of flesh by his thumb and forefinger to reveal a black crescent moon inked into his skin. “Jiyong.”

                He gasped and pulled his hand away as if she’d burned him, tugging the glove back into place. “How did you…?”

                “I know many things. Including the fact that your arrival heralds my end,” she commented with a sad sigh.

                “What?” Jiyong asked, looking at her with a curious frown.

                “Oh yes.” She closed her eyes and recited, “‘The slayer who doesn’t slay will light the way for death’s embrace before the twilight of the stars.’”

                Jiyong snorted at her claim and waved his hand dismissively. “That’s rubbish. I’ve slain plenty of dragons so you’ve obviously gotten that wrong.”

                “Have I?” she asked cryptically, opening her eyes again as she turned her head to listen, hearing the dragon outside shift around, nosing at the perimeter.

                “He doesn’t count,” Jiyong grumbled, folding his arms over his chest in irritation.

                “Of course not,” she laughed in bemusement, agreeing with him, but her eyes said otherwise. She then nodded her head before she gestured at the stool in front of her work table.

                “You said he was your son,” Jiyong muttered as he nervously sat on the edge of the tiny stool while he watched her fold her legs and sink to the ground gracefully in front of her bed.

                “He is. In name only,” she clarified a moment after. “I found him hardly a year ago when his mother was killed not that far from here. By slayers, much like yourself,” she nodded his direction, her gaze inflicting him with an unexplainable pang of guilt. “His siblings were taken to be sold but Minnie…” she trailed off, smiling fondly at the bittersweet memory. Eventually, she shifted her gaze from him so that he could breathe again, the heavy weight lifting from his chest. “He was the runt of the nest. So scrawny I could hold him in my arms,” she laughed, miming cradling an infant.

                “He was the runt?” the hunter pointed towards the door as his brows tried to disappear into his hairline.

                Michelle nodded in agreement. “My son is strong and will grow into a great dragon in time. Just like you, who are without purpose, will find your way eventually too.”

                “I have a purpose,” he retorted waspishly, shifting on the hard stool with an uncomfortable look on his face.

                The sorceress’s gaze turned hard and inescapable. “The disowned nephew of the King. Slaying untamed dragons wantonly because he can. What purpose is that, my lord?” she demanded softly, making his title an insult.

                Jiyong had no answer for her. His lips twitched as if he wanted to say something in return but no words would come to his aide. “Well at least I gain honor and glo-”

                “Honor?” she cut him off before he could finish, looking at him as if that was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. “You think it honorable to kill a creature that thinks and feels as we do merely because it exists?” He fell silent and dropped his gaze under her harsh eyes.” I pity you, Jiyong, for you know nothing of honor if that is what you believe.”

Her expression fell into one of immense sadness and, though he was used to disapproving glares, he felt like the worst man alive simply being in her presence at that moment. “What else am I supposed to do?” he asked uncertainly, feeling rather like he was five again asking for the guidance he wasn’t going to get from his parents.

                Michelle looked at the ground between them and placed her left hand upon her chest, her eyes gaining a faraway look. “’ Firestone’s power will fail above the fireball’s crater. Teeth will tear and claws will rend the flesh of what once were men. The tears of the sun will give the sky strength and the blood of the moon will save the heart of the dragon. A leader will rise to capture the falling star and weather the ire of the blind one.’” While Jiyong looked on with wide eyes, she blinked rapidly and came back to herself.

                “What… was that?” he asked, pointing at her in no small amount of awe and confusion.

                “A message,” she answered with a furrowed brow, sitting up carefully to peer at Jiyong with clear eyes. “Meant for you, I think.”

                “But… that made no sense,” he explained with a confused shake of his head.

                Michelle stifled a sigh and made a supreme effort not to roll her eyes. “Well. It, and the answer to your question before, are for you to find out.”

                “The sun can’t even cry,” he gestured in irritation with an emphatic flailing gesture of his hands. “And how is the moon supposed to bleed?” The rest was ridiculous as well, but those were the obvious points he focused on. Admittedly, he was creeped out by the ‘what once were men’ part though…

                “Rarely are messages completely literal,” she reminded him pointedly, standing up so that she could approach her work desk. Without bothering to wave him away, she plucked a small pouch from one of the shelves over the table itself and dumped some into her palm as she stepped away from Jiyong, talking quietly under her breath.

                “What’s that for?” he asked, leaning precariously to the side for a chance to see better.

                “You’re staying here for the night,” she answered softly, pausing in the center of the small room.

                “Uh… no I’m not,” he responded quickly, glancing towards the door. “I can just find a place to sleep out there,” he motioned for the wilderness beyond her… residence.

                “That wasn’t a request,” she told him as she whirled around and blew the fine dust into his face.

                Jiyong gasped, inhaling a great lungful of the particles in reaction while he jumped to his feet, reaching awkwardly for a sword that refused to come free of its scabbard. His vision tilted dangerously and his tongue grew thick in his mouth. “Wha…?” he tried to say, stumbling like a drunken man towards the sorceress who remained unmoved before him.

                “It’s only sleeping powder,” she explained, capturing his uncooperative frame in her arms to steady him before she lowered his taller body to the floor, cradling his dark head carefully so that it didn’t hit the ground too hard. “Rest,” she urged, caressing his cheek with a sad look in her eyes.

                “I…” he hummed between numb lips, the sound the only thing he could get out before his vision blurred uncontrollably. The moment he gave in and allowed his pained lids to shut, his awareness disappeared in an instant.