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By the Grace of Fire and Fang

A Draconic Love Story

The musty air lingered with the pungent odor of coppery blood, brackish water, and coal-smoke. As she crouched behind a stalagmite, suddenly a plume of acrid fumes assaulted her nose, and she started to retch; Sophia struggled to hold her breath, choking back a cough. One mistake in this place would mean an unimaginable death.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting and watching, there was movement... suddenly, a hulking figure blocked the entrance of the cave, and a hot wind from beating wings rushed through the cavern, whipping the stale air into a frenzy. Heart racing, she watched with morbid fascination as the monster lurched through the entrance of its lair.

The bright sunshine pouring into the mouth of the cave turned the dragon into nothing more than a silhouette, and she could barely make out its features... until it drew closer. The beast didn't walk on all fours like the lumbering lizard she expected... distressingly, it had two arms and legs, like a man, and it strode forward with an upright gate, folding a pair of huge leathery wings behind it. But it was massive; it would easily tower over any human. The curved claws on its feet click-clacked loudly against the stone, and its thunderous girth shook the cave floor, echoing all around the chamber.

As it approached, for a brief moment the light flickered across its face and neck, and she got a good look before the beast sank back into shadow. The dragon had a thick reptilian snout, nearly crocodilian, with sharp fangs protruding from its lips. It surveyed the cave with golden, serpentine eyes, its horselike nostrils flaring with steaming breath. Faded ivory horns curled wickedly from the base of its skull. From what she could see, its flesh was covered in layered, emerald-tinted scales, nearly as wide as arrow tips... she would have thought them beautiful, if they hadn't belonged to such a horrific monster.

Most of the beast was obscured by what it carried into the cave: the ropy muscles of its forearms strained as it heaved the carcass of a hulking brown elk, its prey. The elk was long dead, with broad, ragged claw slashes torn into its hide; blood dripped all over the stone floor of the cave as the dragon lifted it to the rear of the den. She watched, mouth agape, as the dragon dropped the elk unceremoniously among a scattering of bones and detritus... perhaps its feeding spot. The animal must have weighed a quarter of a ton! With a peculiar, human-like posture, the emerald beast crouched on its haunches to inspect the kill; its thick, snake-like tail slapped nervously a few times against the cave floor.

Now was her chance. She bit her lip, bitterness and frustration swelling in her chest. Vengeance was so close, she could taste it. The beast was distracted, and it hadn't noticed her. Sweat dripped down her brow as her grip tightened on the shaft of a steel-tipped spear, carefully bringing it to bear; and then, with as much caution as she could muster, she stepped out from behind the stone, approaching the creature... she was barely ten feet away. As she drew closer, inching quietly, she balked at the sheer size of the dragon. Unfurled, its wings must have been thirty feet in width from tip to tip. Her mind reeled with tension. This would be far from slaying a wayward black bear or wolf, she thought. She had to strike true, and hard, piercing the beast's heart, or a central artery. One false move, one glancing blow, and the beast would...

Before she could act, the dragon whirled around in a flash, its heavy tail threshing across the cave floor, sweeping her completely off her feet. She yelped in surprise and landed flat on her back, stunned. The monster stood, towering over her, its chest heaving with enraged, hot breath. In a panic she scrambled backwards, kicking her boots uselessly in the dirt. Her spear had clattered to the ground, out of reach. When her back slumped against the very rock of her hiding spot, she knew it was over. She would be slain before she even had a chance to strike.

The beast leaned in dangerously close. She caught a whiff of its musty, reptilian odor, like unwashed leather and dried sweat; she grimaced, averting her gaze as the creature skulked towards her, its fanged maw nearly inches away. Nauseous with terror, she gawked as the dragon's fanged jaws opened wide, its lizard-like lips curling in an expression of scorn; as a sparkle of orange flame welled up in its throat, she closed her eyes, calmly accepting the end.

But the end never came. Instead, she was greeted with a deathly calm. A silence which lingered uncomfortably long... had the dragon retreated? She dared not open her eyes. And then, something happened which she did not expect. A voice, deep and gravelly, rang out across the cavern.

“Sophia? Can it be?"

Was the dragon really speaking to her? Her eyes were still closed, and she could barely believe her own senses. It must have been a delusion, brought on by the horror of her impending doom. She was still anticipating a wave of agonizing fire to wash over her.

The dragon repeated itself with a baritone, sullen growl. “Sophia... oh, Sophia... only a moment more and I might have unleashed my flame upon you. Never in a hundred years would I have suspected that you, of all women, would become a dragon-slayer! For that is why you've come here, is it not? To slay the monster?" The beast moaned and grumbled, its question needing no answer. She could hear clawed footfalls retreat from her, and then the dragon paused for a few moments of silence, before groaning even more sorrowfully than before. “I never wanted you to see me this way. Why couldn't you leave well alone!"

Had she taken leave of her senses? Had the hopelessness of her failure driven her mad? Sophia remained perfectly still, laying against the stone. She dared not return the voice's call.

The beast bellowed low. “Open your eyes, Sophia. Your ears do not deceive you. The beast you see before you is Tristram. The one you've lost. The one you've been seeking."

The name caused her heart to jump into her throat. She scrambled against the stalagmite, sitting up in a jolt, staring with shock and alarm at the monstrous reptile only a few feet away. The serpent sat motionless on the cavern floor, head bowed, resting its scale-plated arms on its knees. Sophia muttered under her breath, her voice quivering with distress. “Impossible... that's impossible... he's dead... Tristram is dead... sacrificed...!"

“Sacrificed?" The dragon overheard. His reptilian face perked up, and he looked directly at her in consternation, if a dragon could have such a thing. “No... far from it. Far from it!" The dragon croaked. His booming voice was filled with both sadness and pride. “Please... Sophia... come closer to me. Do not be afraid. How could I mean you any harm? There is much you don't understand, much you haven't been told. I want to show you the truth. The truth of a Tristram who lives on, and who has never forgotten you."

Sophia cracked open an anxious eye, just to make sure she wasn't about to be ambushed. The dragon still sat, quietly, unmoving. With trepidation she pushed herself to her feet, staring uneasily at the monster. It beckoned her with a taloned finger. “Look," the beast whispered. “Draw near, and look upon my face. Then you will see."

Tiptoeing closer, she was still astonished at the monster's sheer size. Even when sitting prone, the dragon's scaly maw was almost at eye level with her. Squinting in the dim light of the cavern, she dared draw only close enough to scrutinize the beast's vicious muzzle. And then she saw it. As she peered into the dragon's golden eyes, there, cutting through its right brow, was a dull flesh-toned scar, an injury Tristram had sustained as a boy in training, and one which the beast's scales had failed to fully wipe away. It was unmistakable.

Upon realizing the truth, uncontrollable tears of joy fractured through Sophia's dauntless exterior, and she broke down on her hands and knees, sobbing. The dragon shifted awkwardly, clearly disturbed by her tears, and then sat reticent, waiting for her to regain her composure. “Tristram..." She faltered. “I see now, dragon... you can be none other than him... but how can this be? Why? I... I..."

“Shhh. There's nothing to fear from me now." Tristram purred softly. “You've found me. You've returned to me. No... it was destiny that returned you to me."

Sophia craned her head to look upon the dragon's face; it was remarkably expressive for a reptile, and she could detect the warmth and elation behind its eyes. Embarrassingly, she felt a swelling urge to throw her arms around the beast's neck in joy, but she restrained herself. This could still, somehow, all be an illusion. Nevertheless, as the memories of her beloved Tristram came flooding back, all her fervor, all her resentment and animosity slowly began to hemorrhage, bleeding away, leaving only hope in its wake. She felt as if she was regaining part of a life long lost.

With a mighty heave, the dragon pushed himself off the cave floor. Stretching outward with a leathery creak, his wings shuddered. She stepped back a few feet to avoid the dragon's tail, which swished back and forth, threatening to topple her again.

“Come with me out into the light. This cave is no place for me to look upon you."

As the dragon tramped back towards the entrance of the den, out into the warm sunlight, Sophia followed, the tears quickly drying on her cheeks. She grabbed her spear off the ground as she went. Just in case.

The dragon's lair opened into an oval outcropping of smooth stone that jutted out from the cliffside. Nearly fifty feet below, across a shallow valley, sprawled a thick carpet of pine trees. Earlier in the day, the climb to the top hadn't been too hard, but now, staring down below, she felt a bit dizzy. All this was too much to take in.

Dragon-Tristram strode forward mightily, his body now fully basking in the bright summer sun. With a leathery creak and a docile whoosh, he unfolded his wings; almost like a second set of arms, heavily muscled appendages lofted them into the light. His wingspan was perhaps even wider than she suspected. The sunlight, shone through its membranes, cast an emerald-colored glow on the rock all around. The dragon held his head high for a few moments, keeping his wings taut, feeling her prying eyes upon his body. His lips contorted in a toothy smile.

Sophia had never seen, nor even dreamt of seeing, a creature such as this. Tristram had become something that resembled not quite fully a dragon as she imagined it, nor quite fully the human man she remembered. She estimated his height at nearly three yards, from the soles of his taloned feet to the tips of his ivory horns. Sophia slowly paced around the beast. As she gazed upon her transformed lover, her flesh started to tingle uncomfortably, a hot tension rising in her chest that she hadn't felt since the very night he left her. The dragon-man's physique was broad and Olympian; his body was sculpted with rippling chest muscles, sinewy hamstrings, and iron-forged, herculean biceps. His arms ended not in animal-like paws, but in masculine, human-like hands, though wicked black talons protruded from each fingertip, just as they did on his toes. Of course, as she suspected, every inch of the dragon's flesh was covered in verdant scales of varying hues, lighter and more olive-like on his front and on the posterior of his tail. Across his broad shoulders, all along his arms and legs, and down his muscled spine, the dragon's scales were stacked in overlapping protrusions that reminded her of laminated armor. Emerald-tinted scales even embellished his loins. The dragon stood bare-skinned, his strikingly manlike figure sparking a twinge of embarrassment which welled in her throat. Yet begrudgingly, she submitted to her own curiosity... it was hard to turn away. Sophia stopped pacing directly in front of the beast.

His head was still held high, but he loosened a bit seeing her there, his reptilian eyes drifting downward. “Well?" He nervously muttered. “Am I what you expected me to be?"

She blushed, turning away. The dragon was not the horrific abomination that she had assumed in the darkness of the cave. His draconic face wasn't even necessarily ugly, or frightening... it held a stoic and almost princely regality, and hiding underneath the reptilian visage were traces of gentleness and humility.

Nevertheless, she had to answer. She hadn't wanted to crush his hopes too much, but it needed to be addressed. “Tristram... you're... well, I mean, you're..."

The dragon looked downtrodden, his confidence deflated as he finished her thought. “...A monster."

Sophia giggled in spite of herself, peering back to the dragon-man's face. “I was actually about to say skyclad."

Tristram was taken aback. “Oh! I... well, you see... as a dragon..." His train of thought was broken, and he blushed under his scales. “Would it be more hospitable if I found something to... er... dress in... perhaps?" He knew he kept no such thing in his lair. The dragon felt humiliated. Sophia responded matter-of-factly. “No... I suppose it's much too late for that now." Dragon-Tristram nervously pivoted, so that she was no longer staring at his underbelly. “As a dragon," he continued meekly, “One grows to embrace it, I suppose. Soaring through the clouds on these wings, the wind on my scales. In this wilderness, I can imagine nothing more free."

The dragon-man let out a deep sigh. Sophia sat down on the rocky outcropping, shutting her eyes, letting her mind drift to memories that seemed long passed.

The young knight Tristram of Galand, only twenty-one when he departed into the north, was written off as slain and eaten by the winged serpent that surely dwelt in these unexplored cliffs and mountainsides. Rumors in the court told of a monster that swooped down from the northern peaks breathing hellfire, to steal children from their parents for some demonic ritual, or to feast on the living flesh of villagers, preferring young virgins the most. The townsfolk took the superstitions to heart, as monstrous creatures like goblins and trolls weren't completely unheard of, far away in the wilderness. If there was a dragon, surely it needed to be brought down.

Suddenly, only a few weeks after being knighted, one day Tristram gathered his packs and armor, bid the guardsmen a hasty farewell, and road off into the twilight, promising to return after slaying the dragon. He had imparted to her, as tears crept into her eyes, that this quest was his birthright, the tradition of all knights of his family going back a hundred years. She was just a village girl, her father a merchant... thought not poor, she was not a prime choice for inheriting a position in his noble family. But they had been locked for two whole summers in an unbreakable romance. He was handsome--no, dashing, and elegant, but masculine, and he yearned for her at every opportunity, indulging no other courtship. One night they snuck away and made love in an apple orchard, under the stars, a full moon shining brightly. It was a night she would never forget.

His disappearance nearly crushed her, but in time, rage overtook her sadness, and she swore an oath of vengeance. Sophia took it upon herself to train in the fighting traditions of knighthood, despite such a thing being unheard of for young women of the village. She did so in secret, practicing with whichever squire would indulge her; reading tomes on warfare that she pilfered from the monastic library; hiking into the woods beyond the borders of her hamlet, teaching herself how to read the signs of rocks and trees. Nearly three years had passed in this fashion. Her burning quest, her only driving force, had been to ride to the north and dispatch the beast who had stolen her beloved Tristram. Now the quest was broken. She was left with nothing.

Sophia held her head in her hands, distraught. She sat beside the beast who was once her true love in utter and complete disbelief. She was sapped, tired, filthy from climbing and hiding in the cave... but she had to stay. She couldn't turn tail and ride back to her father... how mortifying! What would she say to him? Oh yes, I found the dragon, but it was actually Tristram all along, I'm going to marry him soon, you know. Just the thought of the town square's belittling laughter filled her with shame.

Tristram must have sensed it. The dragon-man sat down with a loud thump right next to her, folding his wings neatly. He snorted a short puff of smoke, which wafted to her nostrils. It reminded her of burnt hickory or maplewood, not entirely unpleasant. She supposed he could breath fire after all... it wasn't just a parlor trick. She spoke softly, mostly to herself, but she hoped he was listening. “It was all a lie, wasn't it."

“Sophia." The beast crooned feebly, his voice a whole register lower than what she remembered from when he was human. “Yes... but in some ways, it was the truth. Indeed, it was the tradition of my bloodline to ride to the north. But the rest is a secret that only a scarce few are allowed to know. For my bloodline was chosen as the charge of Bahamut."

Her eyes opened wide. She knew enough about the monastic order to have heard the name of the pagan god, spoken only in reverence by the oldest and wisest of the village's elders. “Bahamut? You mean the platinum king of all dragons?"

“Yes," he retorted with pride. “Once in a hundred years, a knight is chosen, the firstborn son of the newest generation of my family, to undergo a sacred ritual, here in these very mountains. A ritual of transformation... to be baptized by fire, and to emerge as a scion of the lord of dragons."

She was starting to understand, but it still wasn't enough to sedate her thirst for closure. “But you are not a dragon. At least, not like the kind from the fireside stories. It's clear that you haven't been feeding on virgin sacrifices, here in this cave... or have you?" She cocked an eyebrow at the beast, her sarcasm biting.

“What? No! I mean... of course not." He stuttered, composing himself. “But you are right, Sophia. I am not completely a dragon, nor am I completely human. I am a breed born of the gods themselves, gifted with the endowment of both worlds. My transformation is irreversible, but I chose this fate as my destiny, knowing what it would entail. My charge is to watch, away from the world of men, and wait for the sign, when Tiamat, the dragon of darkness, returns. Then, and only then, would I rejoin the world of men as their scale-bound champion, using my power and might to protect this realm." He turned his fanged muzzle towards her. “The pain of losing you was my only regret. You were never meant to find me. The stories of horror and sacrifice were spread to deter the curious. Yes, that includes even my beloved Sophia."

At that, she choked back a tear, but her retort was charged. How dare this beast deceive her, all this time? Letting her waste away in sorrow and anger? “But what if that day never comes?" She snapped in irritation. She didn't care about some mystical destiny. Tristram should be able to choose his own fate, his own lot in life, dragon-born or not, and if that fate was to involve her, then so be it. “What should you do if there's no evil to combat? Do you stay here, in this wilderness, living like a beast?"

The dragon winced. “That is precisely why I stay here. The folk of this realm would not understand, the Church least of all. A monstrous beast indeed... I would be hunted down. Destroyed. Only in their most desperate hour could I be accepted."

Sophia kept quiet. She watched the wind rustle the pine branches of the valley as she stared into the horizon, avoiding the dragon-knight's gaze. Dusk was starting to creep over the hills. Perhaps everything he said was true. Perhaps the life he had chosen was one of unbridled freedom, a gift from the gods. But her love for him swelled deep in her breast, unabated, unquenchable. And from his wavering voice, even as a dragon, she knew that he still returned that love; but it was a love tainted by fear, and sadness. For what fate could a human girl have alongside such a creature?

She stood up, dusting herself off. With a deft motion she peeled off her gloves, stuffing them into a side pouch. Then, she turned to the dragon and, uninvited, placed her bare hand on his shoulder. His scales were cool to the touch at first... but they were surprisingly tender, and she quickly felt the warmth under them, far warmer than what she expected, definitely not like a snake or a lizard. More like a man. A warmth just like the man she once remembered.

Dragon-Tristram's jaw fell agape at the act, revealing his rows of sharp teeth, his golden eyes widening with surprise. Her touch was the first human touch he had felt in over three years, and the first in his new body. He closed his gaping maw... then, slowly, gently, he reached up to cover her hand with his own, hoping his scaly palm didn't repel her. He relishing the friction of his scales against her skin. He felt her heart pumping, a sound which grew louder. And then, carefully, she withdrew.

Sophia looked him dead in the eye. “This will not be your destiny alone. I cannot come so far, only to lose you again." She gulped, almost doubting what she was about to say next. But in a flash, she wiped all fear from her mind, and committed.

“If you are never to be human again, if this is your glorious new form under the sign of Bahamut... then it will be mine as well. If I cannot be your bride as a human woman, then instead, I will become your mate as a dragon."

The dragon-knight thrust himself off the rock. “What?!" At first he thundered. Was this even possible? Was this a sign of the platinum god, a part of his fated prophecy? No, he decided. She had gone mad. “Sophia!" The dragon growled out. “Do you understand what you're saying?" Tristram's draconic heart beat furiously, blood rushing to his snout. The very thought of having his beloved Sophia by his side was enough to whip his mind into a fervor. He stepped away from her, shaking his mighty head in disbelief. “Please... Sophia... if you do this... you'll never be able to return... you'll be forced to dwell in the wilderness, with me by your side, until the time comes when we are both called upon to defend the realm against darkness. Are you certain about such a path? How can you possibly be steadfast in this oath?"

But she was steadfast. “Yes, I am. If the bond we share can't be broken even by death, then perhaps, as the wedded children of Bahamut, it will be stronger than ever before."

The dragon-man, overcome with uncertainty, huffed in a snit, and whirled towards the cave entrance. His thoughts churned with hopeful images of Sophia, transformed as he had been, standing proudly by his side, fully at one with his destiny. Alas, he mulled, only Bahamut himself could know her fate... and the platinum god would either acknowledge her devotion, granting her his immortal benediction, or curse her hubris, inflicting his wrath upon her with agonizing punishment. It was either a distant dream, drawing closer to fruition... or a horrific nightmare from which there was no waking.

The dragon's voice remained firm. “You need to rest. These revelations have taken their toll on your mind. Dwell within my lair and sleep soundly. Perhaps if you contemplate underneath the stars, your path will become clear."

She snapped back. “Yes, I do need to rest, my dragon knight. But my path is already clear. You have chosen it for me with your very existence. And how simple-minded you must think I am, to assume that I can't sense the desire pounding in your heart. Yes, I can see it now... you would spurn even the gods to share in that path."

Tramping back into the cave with Sophia in tow, Tristram grumbled under his breath. Of course she was right... the transformation was grueling, almost unbearable. Vividly he remembered the horror of feeling like he could succumb to the heat at any moment, his mortal flesh broiling in the agony of what could only be described as roaring hellfire. Bahamut's flame was soul-consuming. If her faith faltered, if she indeed perished, every fiber of his being would die with her. But he desired so badly to see her revel in this gift, that he was willing to take that chance.

Tristram ushered her to a hidden alcove of his cave, quite large, one stacked to the ceiling with old barrels, iron-bound chests, wooden boxes, flour sacks, iron weapons and pieces of armor, and other human debris. A long time ago, he had set torches with iron holsters upon the stone walls of the cavern; with a snort and a flash, he jetted a line of flames from his nostrils, bringing the torches to light anew. The flames danced against the cavern walls, revealing the treasure trove. Sophia stepped forward in awe.

“By the gods. What is all this? I thought you had no need for such things here?" She fluttered. “Bandits are easy prey in the northern woods," The dragon quipped. “I feel no guilt in reigning justice upon them from the sky. Of course, I cannot return what they've stolen... so I bring it here. In case one day I can somehow make use of it." Sophia seemed incredulous. Running her fingers over the top of a wooden chest, she found it unlocked; within were malachite and opal trinkets, silver coins, necklaces, pearls, all sorts of treasures. She felt the sudden urge to grab one of the beautiful pearl necklaces for herself, but she clapped the lid shut. Tristram mused. “Take whatever you wish from this. What need have I for it? Though I should warn you: if you undergo the ritual, you'll have no need for it, either. Now, get some sleep, Sophia. My heart rejoices that you are here with me at last. But it's also filled with fear for your fate."

Before retiring, the dragon gorged bloodily on the dead elk, letting reptilian instincts pour over him, ripping and tearing meat away from the carcass with powerful jaws. He wiped the blood from his mouth on the back of his arm, and after having his fill, he shoved the carcass out of the cave entrance into the valley below. Raw meat. He had grown used to its coppery, gamy taste. He still pretended like it was a rare steak at the duke's banquet... though he wished he could, at least once, indulge in a tart for dessert.

Without much celebration, the dragon-man trundled off deeper into the cave, to his own chamber, sparse and ill-furnished. Months ago he had filled a few dozen burlap sacks with sheep's wool and had set them there as a make-shift bed. They had grown flattened, but a few were still soft. Tiredly, Tristram flopped down onto the pile; splaying outward, he stretched his wings from beneath him to keep the blood from being pinched off, and he laid his clawed hands behind his head. His mind started to wander. The dragon-knight wished more than anything that he could draw Sophia close to him. Let her sleep against his warmth; curl around her, protecting her. But she was not ready. Thoughts of her gentle touch left the dragon with a peaceful, fang-filled grin, and he crashed into a snoring slumber.

Sophia set out her bedroll, kicked off her leather boots, and fished out a few bites of hard tack from her pack, along with a swig of rum. She chewed absentmindedly, her mind racing with anticipation, firing off a hundred unanswered questions. What ritual did Tristram speak of? Could she really go through with it? What would it feel like to be a dragon... a dragon-woman, a dragoness... perhaps that would be the right word for it? Would she be able to breath fire? How would she learn how to use those wings? Would she be inclined to live unrestrained, as he did? Perhaps this was the wrong choice... perhaps, he could let her stay here as a human... no, it would be impossible... this was it... her only chance... her only chance to be with him. With no answers to ease her mind, only sleep remained, and she drifted off at last.

Sophia woke in the middle of the night, clutching her chest, soaked with sweat. The cave was hot and musty. It was hard to sleep, and her drifting hours had been tainted by nightmares of the monstrous dragon lunging toward her, mouth agape; the sickening certainty of a painful death. For a brief moment, her heart was flooded with that abject terror, but it quickly vanished as she woke, fading into a groggy haze. This was all too much. She couldn't bear the anticipation any longer.

She crept through the darkness, padding through the cave, passing through an ascended archway into Dragon-Tristram's chamber. The beast's forked tongue lolled out of its mouth, the dragon strewn out like a rag-doll. His tail flicked involuntarily; with each snorting breath, a drift of smoke escaped his maw. The chamber was filled with a cloud of it, to the point where her eyes started to tear as she approached.

“Wake up," she whispered. “Tristram. Wake up!" She picked up a rock and tossed it at the dragon. As it bounced off his breast, the creature snorted even louder, and rolled over. His eyes flung open. For a moment, he laid motionless, then propped himself up on his elbows, sleepily.

“Sophia? What are you doing at this hour?"

“I want to go now." She whispered with a hint of urgency. “I can wait no longer. Please... Tristram... If I linger, undecided, my doubts will only grow, until I can no longer contain them."

The dragon-man sat up with a worried stare. Sophia hadn't even removed her leather armor.

He sighed, and whispered back to her, eyes gleaming in the dark. He knew this was her desire. Who was he to deny her? He yearned for his own fears to finally subside as well. “If this is what the dragonfather Bahamut has chosen for us. So then it will come to pass. Sophia... follow me. I will guide you to the shrine of awakening."

The dragon-knight wasted no time, striding silently through the cavern, down a dark and twisting corridor. He stopped and turned, checking to make sure she was still following. Sophia nearly lost her footing, carefully slipping down the smooth rock, which beveled downward and inward towards the heart of the mountainside. She could barely see. But after only a few minutes, she could sense that they had been deposited into a larger opening, a cavern which stretched out wide in every direction. It was pitch black, so black that Tristram's draconic form was scarcely a shadow in front of her.

His powerful voice echoed out into the darkness. “The fire has gone out in this place. It has been cold for nearly two summers. In a moment, with the gift that the platinum lord himself has bestowed upon me, I will re-ignite the flames of purification." His voiced turned low and serious. She could feel the dragon's hot breath as he leaned closer to her in the dark. “Sophia, my love... before I rode to the north, to meet my destiny here... I failed you. I failed to offer my hand in marriage, as I had promised. I did not wish to break your heart," the dragon whimpered. “If we had married, then the heritage of my bloodline might have fallen to the wayside. Of course I would have been happy. To live life as a man, with my beautiful wife by my side. We would have had sons and daughters. A life unmarred by hardship or want, locked together in bliss for the rest of our days. This was my ultimate temptation. To risk thrusting the entire world into darkness and despair... all for you."

The dragon's voice wavered at first, then grew stronger. “But now is our second chance. I know this is the will of Bahamut. How can it be anything other? He would not bring you to me without some divine purpose."

Sophia stood in silence, bottling her heartache. She reached out in the dark, her hand running into the cool scales of his chest. She could feel him shiver. Drawing closer, she stood on her tiptoes, and at last, threw her arms around his neck, burying her face against the dragon's breast. She closed her eyes, savoring his thundering heartbeat. It was then that she felt his mighty arms wrap around her, pulling her in, pressing her against his body; the tips of his claws tingling her back. Carefully, gently, the monstrous beast embraced her.

“It's time," he whispered. With that, she let go gingerly, standing again on the cavern floor. His tail whipped in front of her as he turned to face the darkness. All she could hear next was a loud and heavy inhalation, like the creaking bellow of a blacksmith... and then there was a massive detonation, like a roil of thunder being struck against the air, and a cacophony of billowing orange flame burst out from the dragon's maw, exploding outward, swelling and surging, piercing the darkness all around. The fire swirled and twisted; she squinted against the intense heat and held up her hand, shielding her eyes. The dragon heaved, chest rising and falling again and again; with each blow, massive jets of flame spilled across the cavern; and then, she saw in the firelight, his target. There in the center of the chamber stood a stone statue, carved with what seemed like incredible detail, of a dragon, wings unfurled. The statue was nearly twenty feet tall, towering upwards towards the roof of the cavern, which even still, shrank away into darkness.

And there at the statue's feet, carved out of the very stone of the cavern floor itself, was an enormous onyx brazier, its curvature low and gentle, as if made for someone to cross its threshold. If she laid down upon it, she would have barely stretched across it's diameter end-to-end. At once the dragonfire raced across the beacon. Although there was nothing in the brazier but empty space, it suddenly burst alight with wild and dancing fire, as if fueled by some supernatural timber. The pyre then lofted flames high into the chamber, and cast the tall dragon statue in a magnificent incandescence. There she saw sparkling, in the statue's eyes, two brilliant platinum jewels, shining and clear.

“Bahamut..." she whispered. Tristram panted for a few moments, catching his breath, then turned to her. “Yes. This is the shrine of the dragon-god." The dragon stood silent, letting the crackling flame fill the cavern with peaceful reverberation.

Sophia trembled as she gazed into the flickering pyre. Immediately she understood what Tristram had only hinted at. This was the ritual. A baptism of fire.

The dragon-knight sensed her trepidation. “Now you understand. It is not to be taken lightly. If one is not truly chosen by the platinum dragon... if your soul does not wish, with every ounce of your being, to devote to this new life, a life of scale and claw... a life of wing and fire... then you will be consumed." She swallowed nervously, but steeled herself all the same. From the moment she witnessed his reborn form, something buried deep inside of her soul cried out in exultation. Somehow, she knew this was her destiny.

Sophia mustered enough courage to confront the dragon. “Then I am prepared. Tristram... I... I am sorry I ever doubted you." Tristram rumbled low, his tone reassuring. “Then I will offer the words as a dragon that I could not as a man." The dragon bowed his head to her and knelt reverently. “Will you join me in immortal bondage? To live as my mate, as the will of the platinum father commands? Blessed in our passion, two hearts beating as one, forever?"

She looked directly into his golden eyes. “I will."

Dragon-Tristram lifted his head high, triumphant. “As will I," he beamed, unable to contain his adulation. She beamed back, all fear melting away for a moment, leaving only her love for him. And then, her expression turning dour, she drew her attention to the flaming pyre.

Tristram stepped aside, leaving her to face the flame unaided. Slowly, deliberately, she stepped forward, approaching the fire. Her feet were already bare. Carefully, she unbuckled the breast of her leather armor, letting the chest-piece fall to the floor. She performed the same ritual for her leg tassets, casting the leather aside in a pile; her bracers went next. Unlaced, she dropped them to the ground, leaving dimples in her fair skin. Sweat started to bead on her neck and brow as she stood before the fire, clad only in her loincloth and a woolen breast strap. She stood for a moments, almost hesitant, then reached upward to undo her last remaining garments. But she was interrupted.

“No!" the dragon-knight barked. “Sophia... I am not meant to gaze upon you with these dragon eyes, for fear that the regret of our past lives would cloud our bond. If you are reborn from fire... only then should you reveal your essence to me, as you had when I was just a man. It will be our honeymoon."

She understood.

Standing straight, her eyes forward, focused and unafraid, she stood only inches away from the blazing inferno. The fire threatened to lick away her skin, but although she felt the heat pierce her intensely, she remained unscorched. Then, as if taking the first step of her life, she lifted a foot forward, placing it into the flame, and then another, stepping upward into the brazier. Her heart pounded as the flames whirled around her, flickering skyward to swallow her face; the heat was incredible, as if she stood in the portal of a blacksmith's furnace, but her flesh was not burned. She looked down in disbelief, fire licking the top of her head; her undergarments erupted in fire, fizzling away in ash; and then her hair followed, on her head and elsewhere, shriveling into smoke, leaving her completely bare-skinned, utterly exposed to the purifying flame. But still, there was no pain.

She lifted her head, staring out of the fire at the platinum eyes of the statue. And then she prayed. Knowing not the words, she prayed to the god Bahamut. “Please... father of dragons... grant your blessing upon me!"

As if answering her command, her flesh began to crawl. She held up her hands in the fire, staring wide-eyed as her body began to transform. Her fingernails peeled away, and sprouting painlessly from her hands twisted long, curved black talons. It was happening. She couldn't believe it. It was actually happening! Suddenly, her very bones began to snap and crack, stretching, unhinging... she gasped in complete shock, totally unprepared for the bizarre sensation. Her muscles twisted and bulged, rippling upward on her arms, her legs, her back, her neck... no portion of her body remained undisturbed as the transformation wracked through her.

Not from pain, but from sheer surprise, tears began to roll down her face, and her mind started to slip into stupor, paralyzed from the trauma of the changes convulsing across her body. Sophia staggered, her knees weak, and she fell, propping herself up in the fire with clawed hands that had grown much too large to be human.

From her rump, segments of her spine erupted outward in crackling extrusion, and were immediately filled with flesh, a muscular dragon-tail piercing outward from the cloud of flame that concealed her.

She screamed, a shrill, guttural howl... Tristam had to stop himself from rushing forward to rescue her from the fire. He could only watch in horrible fascination. Sophia's scream quickly turned gargled and rumbling, trailing off into a lion-like growl. With jaws open wide, her skull began to elongate, stretching forward terribly, becoming primal and reptilian; her human teeth shrank away one by one, pearl-white dragon fangs erupting from where they once were. In a haze, she became vaguely away of her tongue splitting in twain, and of the intense pressure of twisting horns, which boiled from the top of her scalp like tree roots, branching and curling.

It must have been the spirit of Bahamut itself infusing her soul. Her fear and dismay started to melt away, replaced with a feeling of pure, unadulterated joy. As if the very core of her being had been finally uncaged, and let loose to fly free upon the world. She felt herself smile, her draconic lips curling backward, and she ran her forked tongue over her fangs in ecstasy. The sulphury odor of the burning fire penetrated her dragon nostrils... but to her, it smelled more like heaven than hell. All pain vanished, and she stood tall in the fire. She looked down at her feet; her toes coelesced from five to three, and eagle-like talons curved forward where toenails had been. Then, from the bottom of her feet, beyond the warmth of the flames surrounding her, a new, throbbing and prickling sensation appeared: her flesh began to cover itself in reptilian scales. Stretching, overlapping, weaving across her body, the scales spread ascending, covering her ankles, legs, hips... pouring inward towards her groin, and then upward across her stomach and sides... she admired her arms with elated curiosity as the scales spread across them, and then higher towards her neck and face. Was it the firelight tainting the color of her vision? No... at once she saw that her scales were actually red, not green like his; a deep, satisfying crimson, almost the color of rose petals... or blood.

At last, the final explosion of change wracked her body as a second pair of arms retched outward from her shoulder blades, their fingers elongating, spreading wide in evolutionary ceremony, filling with leathery flesh. She stretched her new dragonwings wide, the trigger for controlling them implicit to her instinct. It felt just like moving her arms, almost unconsciously, effortlessly; powerful, sinewy shoulder muscles locked her wings in place. The dragon Sophia arched her neck, flinging her head to the sky, crowing in triumph and delight.

The dragoness stood in the fire, relaxed, chest heaving in and out slowly, for what seemed like an eternity. At last, she stepped naked out of the flames, which still crackled brightly from the brazier. She flexed her clawed toes on the cavern floor, exhaling at the luscious sensation of the warm air against her skin. Earlier Tristram had mentioned complete, unbridled freedom... and now she understood.

“By the platinum father..." Tristram exclaimed, eyes wide. The only words he could muster.

Slowly, Dragon-Sophia stepped forward, fully conscious of her new body. With clawed hands she caressed the scales of her arms, and then moved to explore the soft scales of her belly. The dragon-man stood awestruck as he watched the dragoness step forward with power and elegance. Her physique remained strangely feminine, breasts fully shapen, though plated with the same scales that covered every inch of her once-pink flesh. Dragon-Tristram's jaws trembled and fell ajar as he looked, stupefied, over the rest of Sophia's body. Just as Tristram had maintained the masculine features of his old form, so had Sophia been gifted with features that were startlingly woman-like. She had become a celestial amalgam of dragon and human.

Sophia glanced behind her at her own wings, then carefully folded them against her back with a natural, graceful motion. Her blood was hot, coursing; she could feel its incandescence radiate down into her hands and feet. An incredible sensation. She flicked her dragon-tail left and right, and then smiled toothily at Tristram.

She tried to speak, and found that it wasn't all too difficult. Her voice was gravelly and commanding, just as his had been, but still feminine.

“Will you show me how to breath fire?" She purred.

The dragon-man's chest tightened. For a few minutes he could only stare in silence at the goddess-like form of his lover. Quickly, he managed to shake himself out of his stupor. She stood anxiously, waiting for him to react.

“Sophia... oh, Sophia..." He cried. “I will show you more than that!"

Without a moment's hesitation, the two dragon lovers sprinted towards one another, the cave walls shuddering under their girth. She barreled into Tristram, and they flung their scaly arms around each other, grasping and clawing. His prehistoric, reptilian musk was intoxicating to her now. The warmth of her bare crimson body sent the dragon-man's mind into a frenzy; with an abrupt snap, he clamped his fanged jaws around hers. Her eyes shot open wide at the blood-tinged taste of his breath. They fell to the ground thunderously, biting, scratching, kissing and moaning, human grunts morphing into beastlike growls of pleasure. The whole cavern shook.

The dragon-born knight ground himself against her, stroking her crimson flesh, moving his mouth from her face to her blush bosom. He slavered his flickering, forked tongue across her scales, first basting her breasts, then her plated belly; he kissed her navel as his snout passed by, sliding downward. As his snake-like tongue flickered across her crotch, and then penetrated her, she let loose an inhuman howl. His snout stayed there for awhile, the coppery taste of her cleft washing over his senses. They locked their mouths together again, kissing and nipping voraciously; both dragons sprawling out on the stone floor in a tumbling pile of ecstasy, their wings flapping wildly. The firelight of the pyre basked them both in luxurious heat.

She reached down with a clawed hand, clasping his pulsing dragonhood. He snarled with excitement, licking his lips, and then scrambled on top of her, pinning her body to the stone, as if she were his squirming prey. In reflex, the dragon-woman lunged upward and bit into his shoulder, drawing a rivulet of blood; he yelped like a trapped beast. She clawed at his back, digging under his wings, clutching hard, pulling him closer, wanting nothing more than to revel in his scorching, unrelenting flesh... but he didn't need her guidance.

She let loose a carnal roar as he drove his scale-coated member inside her. As the dragon-man thrust his body against hers again and again, with each heaving breath, a splash of orange flame billowed from his throat, licking her gleaming breasts. The acrid smell of his smoke stung her eyes, but it drove her uncontrollably wild; the flame, merely a hot tickle... she was immune to its destructive power. She wrapped her powerful legs around his scaly rump, clawed toes splayed, grasping his muscular tail with her feet. She wanted to be sure he couldn't escape.

For years, he had been her only true desire, and in her new unfettered and savage body, the intensity of her appetite was amplified tenfold. Feeling her steaming nectar slide against him, the dragon-man only thrust harder, roaring her name into the cavern. “Sophia...!" He hissed between breaths. “You're mine... at last you are mine... and I am yours... forever!" He unfurled his wings, gently covering them both, until they were shrouded in a cacoon of draconic, bestial pleasure. Beneath those wings, they writhed in hedonistic bliss late into the night.

The next morning, Sophia awoke in the dark, Bahamut's firelight having long gone cold. Her heart fluttered, and a chill wracked over her, as for a brief moment, she wondered if it had all been a dream. Seeing him lay beside her blissfully, she let out a sigh of relief. Carefully, she crept upward through the cave, lowering her head to avoid disturbing him, until she made her way to the main corridor of his lair. Outside, the stars were slowly melting away in the wilderness sky, as a bright red dawn crept up from behind the trees. The dragon-woman stepped out into the morning air, reborn.

She pretended not to notice as Tristram crept up behind her... tenderly he reached around her folded wings, placing his taloned hands on her shoulders, massaging them carefully. Bending forward ever so slightly, he nibbled at her neck for a moment. She reached up to caress his face, and smiled. They stood for a few minutes, watching the dawn rise in splendor.

“So... what would you like for breakfast?" He piped.

She was taken aback. In the flurry of her transformation and the frenzy of lovemaking, she hadn't even a single moment to consider the practical sensibilities of being a half-dragon. She turned to him, stumped. “I... I don't know?" She was still getting used to the deepening of her voice, among other things... every word she spoke was now sultry and penetrating. In the creeping light of the morning, she looked down at her own scaly body, seeing it for the first time in full, unbridled light. She let loose an involuntary shiver. Tristram looked over her with concern. “What's wrong? Are you cold?"

“No..." she whispered back. “I suppose it will take some time to grow accustomed to... all this." Sophia delicately graced her clawed hand down the front of her belly, a soft tingle spreading over her bare scales; she stared at the ground, flexing her taloned toes, wondering how quickly her feet would grow disciplined to jaunting around unshod.

Tristram grew wistful. “Don't fret. Soon enough, you'll awaken one morning and barely remember how civilized prudence once felt. At least that's what happened to me. But you didn't answer my question!" He laughed.

“The answer is more simple than you may think for us dragons. Tell me, Sophia, what did we eat when we lived in the village?"

She stopped to think, a welcome distraction. “Well, lets see... rabbit stew... a bit of pickled herring. Salmon which my father smoked. Venison, when we were allowed to hunt it. Pottage for breakfast and a few bits of cheese, salted pork. Nuts... honey... a bit of ale, I suppose."

The dragon-man let out a low chuckle. “Pork, venison, and rabbit indeed. So there you have it. Here in these wilds, there will be no shortage of deer meat for us. None to deny us the pleasure of the hunt. Every fowl, fish, and beast of these woods is our domain. Though we remain noble, we should quell our beastly appetites at every opportunity." Without hesitation, he flung open his wings, flapping them briskly, feeling blood return to their tips. “Now," he turned to her. “Uncoil your own wings."

She did as he commanded, distending her wings in a graceful arc; a strange sensation indeed, having no prior knowledge of such a thing, and yet feeling as though she had possessed these appendages her entire life. “There, you see?" He chimed. “We are blessed with instincts such as these, to accompany our human sensibilities. And there's more." Tristram placed a hand on his chest. “Breath deeply, from your belly, not from your sternum, and feel the spark of dragonflame swell in your center."

Closing her eyes, she took his lead, inhaling with a massive draft of air. The sheer volume of her lungs caught her by surprise, and she struggled not to choke. But there, in the very center of her torso, she felt it... lingering, tickling heat... like a coal buried under a blanket.

“Let loose your breath, again, not from your breastbone, but from your very core. And then the fire will spill forth."

Holding her breath just a minute longer, feeling the odd warmth inside her, she thrust her eyes open and lurched her jaws forward, her own snout filling her field of vision; and boiling up from her throat, spilling out into the morning sky, was a torrential ejection of searing flame! The jet of dragonfire arced outward nearly ten yards, tapering off, black smoke rising from its ash. Once every ounce of breath had escaped her, she clamped her jaws shut, and turned to him with an elated expression. “What wonder!" She exclaimed. “Hah! If only the old misers at the library could see me do that!" She twirled around on one foot in jubilation, clasping her hands together. Her toothy grin spread from cheek to cheek. “Please Tristram! Show me more!"

“As you wish, my lady of crimson scales." Tristram bowed. “Take my hand." Stepping towards him, she let his powerful claws clasp over her own. Her heart fluttered at his touch once again. He turned, peering out over the treetops. His wings flapped once, twice, and then continued in a careful, beating rhythm, slowly rising in tempo, wind kicking up dust all around the rocky outcropping. “Come on," he looked at her puzzled face. “Do as I do. Quickly. Beat your wings. Move your wings as if to the sound of your own heartbeat."

She thrust her wings against the morning air, almost in step with his own threshing. She concentrated, her breath growing frantic, wings beating just as furiously as the dragon-knight's.

“Now run!"

With her hand still in his, she almost tripped as he bolted to the edge of the outcropping, but she followed, feeling the sinewy power of her legs launching her forward, upwards, and outward, straight off the edge of the cliff. Her heart leaped into her throat as she felt herself fall, her hand slipping away from Tristram's... she gritted her fangs, pumping her wings as hard as she could, a whirling cyclone fomenting around her, air billowing and blustering, thrusting her upward... until at last, she shot back into the sky, catching up with the dragon-knight, who fluttered just above the treeline.

She was flying. Actually flying, like a bird through the sky, the air rushing past her body, the heaviness of gravity dissolving away. Her reptilian eyes welled with tears of pure rapture. By all that was holy in this world, she mused... what pitiful lives men were wasting, trapped in those soft bodies, shackled to the ground. How could she have held a single shred of doubt for this transformation? The epiphany of it all was overwhelming... indescribable.

Dragon-Tristram's scales shined like glistening jade in the sunlight, the sky itself clearing into piercing blue. The two dragons drifted close together, hovering nearly a hundred feet above the earth; pumping their wings took almost all of their energy. They embraced in mid-air, tenderly; one dragon's heart beating against another, lurid craving once again radiating through their bodies. Eagerness nearly overwhelmed them both. “Not now," he cautioned, understanding her intentions. “After we've filled our bellies," he grinned. Only then did Tristram catch the sight of the drying tears in the corners of her eyes.

He purred softly. “I know what you've felt, for I was the same when I first stepped into the sky with these wings. It is a feeling of exultation no human could possibly understand." For a moment she rested her snout against his chest, cherishing his scent. But their wings were starting to grow noticeably sore; staying in one spot took an enormous amount of effort.

“But even we dragons can't flap forever. We have to soar, or we might fall." With that, he took her hand yet again, and swiftly dove forward, tail straightening like a needle, thrusting his feet behind him; she followed his every move, wings locking into place. The two dragons sailed and drifted across the tops of the trees, unbelievably fast, the cool morning air buffeting around them.

Sophia roared with glee over the deafening wind, grasping his hand tighter. As their glide slowed, descending, their wings pumped once more, and they found themselves landing in a green clearing, surrounded by trees and brush. Both dragons alighted flawlessly, coiling their wings behind them. Standing silently, their gazes locked together, the two lovers heard only the gentle rustling of the pines, and a tranquil breeze, soothing after the tumultuous rush of their flight. In this quiet moment, the dragons felt ferocious and free, perfectly in tune with the wilderness... and with each other.

“Tristram... I..." Sophia's voice wavered with passion. The dragon-man knew what she was about to say. No words were necessary. He raised a claw to his lips.

Suddenly, Tristram cocked his head. She heard it too, then smelled it, nostrils flaring... the musky scent of deer. “Their feeding grounds," he whispered. His hunger could no longer be ignored... for a dragon, it was a primal, almost unconquerable instinct. The dragon-man stalked away into underbrush, beckoning her to follow, his tail still pointed stiffly behind him. And so the dragoness did, only faltering to peer around in awe at the dauntless forest around her. It was like a dream, a dream of a life reborn. And it was only just beginning.