Drakon

Prelude

The sun had begun to set, and night was gradually taking the place of day. The entire forest was quiet. The small village perched on the hillside, at the edge of the forest, had not yet sunk into its usual silent darkness. Instead of sleeping early as they did every other night, the carefree villagers were running feverishly up and down the village streets. The streets gleamed with the light of the small lamps hanging on the doors of each house. They were preparing the final details for the summer solstice celebration.

This celebration occurred once each year, marking the transition from the winter solstice to the summer solstice. It was the most important celebration for this little village because it signified the end of winter and the beginning of the season when crops would bloom.

Everything was ready for the celebration; even the little children had helped with the preparations, and, of course, all of them were excited. All the villagers had left their houses and gathered in the small village square. All the houses were empty, except for one small house at the edge of the village, just outside the forest. In that house lived Drakon, a twelve-year-old boy, with his father, Theron. The little boy was always distant from the villagers, keeping mostly to himself. Today was no exception; he had decided to stay at home while the rest of the villagers had gathered in the village square.

Drakon was in his house, playing with a piece of wood, moving it like a sword. He held it over his head and then moved it downward with force, slicing an invisible enemy in half. The young boy dreamed of fighting with his sword against hordes of enemies. The stories that Theron told him about strong warriors who could single-handedly obliterate entire battalions and control the elements fueled his imagination to create imaginary battles. In those battles, he was the hero, and his sword was the one to destroy the enemies. His favorite story was about a black-clad fighter of fire who had single-handedly destroyed an entire city filled with enemies. Even now, Drakon was imagining this specific battle, making it part of his play.

Theron's stories were full of warriors who could control the elements and single-handedly obliterate entire regiments of soldiers. In those stories, other creatures appeared as well—creatures with the ability to transform their bodies and cover them with scales; terrifying creatures that lived at the bottom of the sunless ocean and were the size of several large merchant ships; creatures that roamed the forgotten lands and the deserts of the continent; and many more that lived deep in forests or high on tall mountain peaks. Creatures that no human had seen for many centuries.

Drakon knew that these tales, filled with terrible monsters, warriors of immense strength, and their heroic acts, were all products of Theron's imagination. Despite that, Theron never acknowledged it; he always insisted that those tales were more than fictional stories—that they were facts and events of the past. Regardless of their origin, they were a great fuel for the child's imaginary adventures.

Usually, the square was an empty area surrounded by the few small shops of the village, and in the middle stood a huge old plane tree. Today, though, because of the celebration, the villagers had decorated the shops and the big plane tree with small lamps since the morning. Around the imposing tree, wooden counters had been placed, belonging to sellers who had come to the village to sell their goods to the villagers and were now sitting behind them, eager to help any villager select from the variety of goods they were offering.

The entire village had gathered in the square, waiting for the climax of the celebration. Their custom was to start a huge fire and let it burn until the early hours of the next day.

Soon, the fire had been lit, and the celebrations began. Wine was flowing, and dairy products along with meat were on many counters. The villagers were eating and drinking, singing and dancing; everyone was having a great time. The celebration had finally reached its climax as the fire had become huge, lighting the entire square as if it were daylight. The villagers were all completely distracted by their celebration and were oblivious to the threat that was approaching them.