By H. L. Davis

It is day 1,826 of my captivity. As usual, I stand silent in the treasure room, dusting cloth in hand, ankles in chains. But since it’s also Supremacy Day, I’ve seen an unusually high number of visitors. Dozens of blue people stopping by to snigger and stare. Thankfully, the sun is now setting over the indigo sands outside.

I am fairly certain the two Deneem standing before me will be the last for the evening.

From the corner of my vision, a small blue boy points a finger at me. “Mother, is that Seren the Seventh of Timrist?”

My arms prickle in surprise. My name. I haven’t heard it spoken in so long. Will the child be struck for using it?

Silence reigns for a few moments, then I sense the Deneem woman’s black eyes flicker. “She was a princess, my son. But no longer. She is now a slave whose sole purpose is to dust the Sapphire of Supremacy.”

I have long since given up squirming under my enemy’s scrutiny, and though I’m not supposed to make eye contact, I steal a glance at the child. His finger now points to the stone sparkling on the pedestal beside me. “It was theirs, and now it’s ours?”

The woman’s azure lips rise in a slow smirk. “Yes. Once a colorless treasure of their kingdom, now a brilliant blue symbol of the Deneem victory over their pale, pathetic race.” She looks down at the boy. “Disease destroyed their dragons one by one. And without their dragons, they were powerless to stop us.” She clicks her tongue and pats his bald head. “Now, Mikah, it is time to attend the feast.”

The two Deneem stroll from the room hand in hand, their beaded jewelry clinking with their retreating steps.

I am alone with the sapphire once more.

I study its surface, magically changed to a cold blue by our enemies when we were first brought to their desert realm five years ago. Apart from that, the stone has remained unblemished. Have the Deneem ever thought it odd? That amidst the chaos and destruction of my kingdom’s fall, the White Sapphire of Timrist was shining and whole, patiently awaiting them on my lap in the throne room?

Have they never suspected something more?

I rub the sapphire with my dustcloth and take a shaky breath. If they knew…

My thoughts rush like a river back to that tragic day when I was twelve. The explosions. The acrid smoke. The shouts and snarls of the advancing enemy. My heart had squeezed sharp when I stumbled upon Wizard Thaddeon—my parents’ most trusted advisor—his legs pinned under a giant piece of debris.

He beckoned me, and I drew near, my throat tight. I’d lost Father and Mother mere days before. I couldn’t lose him, too.

“Get to the throne room,” he ordered between gasps. “The Deneem will not kill you. They’ll keep you as a prize. And they’ll want this, too.” Trembling, Thaddeon retrieved the White Sapphire of Timrist—miraculously unharmed—from beneath his cloak and placed it gently in my arms.

Anger flared in my chest. Better to shatter the gem than to hand it over to our enemies!

But all protest died on my lips when the wizard shared the sapphire’s secret. A glimmer of hope. My new, crucial mission.

His eyes had glazed over, and Thaddeon was gone.

I shiver at the memory, glancing around with an irrational fear that, somehow, a guard may have witnessed it, too. But they are all at the feast. It seems after these years of silence and submission, I no longer require constant watch.

I lean toward the blue stone and murmur, “It’s about time, don’t you think?”

The sapphire quivers.

I stare wide-eyed, afraid to blink. Did it just—

The sapphire shudders again, and again. Stronger now.

Heart hammering, I drop the dusting cloth and place my hands on either side of the stone, warmth pulsing to the blue surface from its center.

A thin crack snakes across its top.

Drawing it close, I squeeze my eyes shut and utter the spell Wizard Thaddeon shared with his dying breath 1,826 days ago.

I flinch at the burst of light. Sense crisp forest air. Damp moss beneath my feet.

Tears prick my eyes as I open them, and the green trees dazzle my vision. The magic worked! I have arrived on Lone Island—the last hidden haven of Timrist.

And as I promised Thaddeon, the last known dragon egg will hatch alone with me, safe in this secluded place.

The sapphire shoots forth sparks. I watch mesmerized as the egg’s disguise, so strong and unyielding all these years, breaks open. A pale snout emerges, the tiny dragon sniffing its new world as the remaining blue stone crumbles to ash through my fingers.

Its glittering eyes lock onto mine. The snow-white creature stills.

It, too, must sense the solemnity of this moment.

Trying not to tremble, I raise the dragon to my face, gazing with awe at the creature I feared I would never live to see. It’s here, newly-born in my hands—the life I’ve been blessed to guard. To hope for. To believe in.

Will it now choose to believe in me, too?

For an eternity of seconds, it stares unblinking. Deeply searching. Then its eyes shimmer, and a warm breath flows from the dragon’s mouth to meet my face. It smells of earth: ancient, rich, and sure.

I exhale in relief. Our bond is struck, to remain until death.

Running a finger across its scaly head, I notice a subtle gray diamond in the center. So, the dragon is a female. She nuzzles my hand, wisps of smoke rising from her nostrils. I can’t help but return the hatchling’s affection with a smile.

“Hello. I’m Princess Seren, last of the royal line of Timrist. And you—You’re our kingdom’s shining hope.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

H. L. Davis is a Christian, wife, and homeschool mom who calls the South home. She first discovered the joys of writing at ten years of age, and it is a craft she is delighted to pursue once again. She is particularly fond of fairy tales, whether it’s retelling old favorites or weaving magical stories of her own. You can follow her author journey on Substack and Instagram.

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