Henrietta never tried to properly glide from a higher altitude before, but she had to try.

  Utilizing the knowledge she learned earlier in the journey, Henrietta outstretched her wings while she ran as fast as she could to the cliff’s edge. The cliffside was full of jagged, sharp rocks that could injure her soft scales, but she paid it no mind. She had to get everyone to a doctor before it was too late.

  Her wings were stiff, as she was still not used to having a new pair of limbs on her back. It actually worked for her benefit, as they provided the lift necessary for her to clear the rocks at the edge of the cliffs and glide properly. Her lighter bones, akin to a bird, helped her stay airborne, maintaining altitude by swaying her body as she felt the wind on her leathery wings. She was getting precariously close to the trees as she could not flap her wings properly, but thankfully, she cleared it and reached the grasslands.

  Her riders kept hoping that she would not crash. Henrietta also knew this. There was no point in risking everyone's life if that's the end result. Bartlett kept Shana pressed on the saddle, with Thomas doing the same to the injured Rory as Henrietta prepared to land. Taking points from her experience, she readied her hindlegs to touch the ground, followed by her forelegs. The momentum carried her forward, forcing her to run on all fours until she slowed herself to a pace, then to a walk, before finally stopping. She let out a sigh of relief.

  “God, that was exhilarating,” she said. She then remembered about Thomas, and everyone on her . She totally forgot about them due to the spell that negated two of her riders' weights (courtesy of Shana, who regained consciousness as the wind blew on her vulpine face) and her being focused on her gliding. The fact that they stayed silent throughout the glide also contributed to that.

  "Is everyone okay?" she asked, worriedly.

  “I’m fine, if you’re asking,” said Shana weakly. “Although my ribs aren’t. Ashe’s curse, it hurts.”

  “We’ll get to a town soon, okay?” said Henrietta. “I remembered the town. It's nearby. We'll be there in no time."

  “Then hurry.” Shana turned her attention to Rory, who was bandaged with whatever's available in the town. Blood soaked the makeshift bandages through. "That man's not going to make it without immediate attention."

  Henrietta nodded and started running, keeping a good pace while trying not to throw her riders off. She slightly increased her pace when she heard Rory’s delirious moaning, clearly caused by the injuries he sustained. Thomas kept him secured, but also let out his opinion on the man's recklessness.

  "I never thought I'd say this," said Thomas. "But in this situation, you're a fool, you know that?"

  Unknown to him, Henrietta cracked a smile, content to know that her brother was not the same meek person he was two years ago. He would not have the courage to reprimand anyone, not even his older sister, despite their casual conversation with each other.

  He had truly grown into a fine man, one who showed courage against all odds.

  Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by Shana, who let out a grunt of pain.

  "Oh...Ashe's curse...," she said, keeling over.

  "What?" asked Henrietta. "What's wrong?"

  "I think...I ruptured something," replied Shana.

  "Damn it. Hold tight!”

  The dragon increased her pace until it became a sprint. Soon, she saw the sign directing the to Ottimar. She immediately swerved towards the road leading to the town, ignoring confused travelers as to why a dragon with wings ran on all fours.

  She found herself entering a town in less than an hour. The sight of a pink-scaled dragon stopping from her run was rather intimidating to the surprised onlookers.

  Thomas climbed down and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Is there a doctor here?!" he cried. "I need a doctor!"

  Moments later, a team of doctors and nurses reached them. They quickly assessed the situation and the injuries of everyone. They paid particular attention to Rory, the most severely injured of the four. One of them cast a spell that bathe them in a warm light, before asking the doctors to take over. Another doctor tended to Shana, who took her to the nearby hospital, while another tended to the concussed Bartlett.

  Thomas's attention was drawn to the warm light one of the doctor cast around Rory. To Thomas's astonishment, Rory's gashes stopped bleeding in seconds. However, before it could be closed completely, the light faded away. The doctor looked exhausted.

  "I can't heal him completely," said the doctor. "The rapid healing will undoubtedly cause severe pain. He will need to rest for a couple of days to let his wounds heal naturally. I'll use healing aura to cover the scars."

  "You're a cleric?" asked Thomas.

  "Never was," said the man. "Hence the side effect. But it's better than nothing, and it saves life. To me, that's good enough."

  Thomas nodded, both in appreciation and in understanding.

  "Will he be alright?" asked Thomas.

  "Give us a couple of days," said the doctor. "You should rest and clean yourself up, too. You look like you have your fair share of adventuring. I'll heal your dragon, but you should bring her to a proper healer. There's one in Silver Vale. It's the next town, four hours by foot."

  Thomas thanked the doctor before the man excused himself. The assurance that his friend was going to survive despite the injuries was a relief for the young mage, who sighed rather audibly. He was keeping his worry in check, knowing that panicking would serve no purpose but to cause the situation to be worse. In fact, he couldn't afford to, not when he was also happy to have flown on a dragon's back, a dream he once had, and never let go.

  But that was not the last of their worries. The crowd did not disperse. Instead, they stayed around, looking at them anxiously. It was clear, from Henrietta's observation, that their attention was not towards her. It also served to remind her that she was back in Manarithia, where dragons were more common.

  "What happened?" asked a worried older man. "What caused that man to be so mangled like that?"

  "I prefer not to speak about it," said Bartlett, who had recovered. "I don't want to spread misinformation."

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  "But you must! We need to be ready if those Wyrithians come here! The soldiers have warned us of an attack."

  "Attack?" asked Bartlett. He became intrigued by the development. "What are you talking about?"

  "Where have you been? It's news all over the region!"

  "I've been to Clydeth, but there haven't been anything noteworthy discussed in that region."

  "That's because those mages know how to deal with them swiftly," commented another distraught man. "Come now, man. You will not spread any misinformation if you claim it so. You need to know about this. It's also for your dragon's sake, too."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Those damned Wyrithians. I heard they developed weapons that could kill dragons swiftly. The war at the frontline became disastrous after dragon riders fell from the sky one after another."

  The man said it so desperately, which gave both Bartlett and Henrietta a reason to believe it. Manarithia had prided itself for being a nation that trained dragon riders. If that pride could be easily taken down by the enemy, it would surely damage the confidence of the Manarithians, losing their morale.

  As Bartlett went on explaining what just transpired, Henrietta was more concerned with the fact that she was too conspicuous by the fact that she was unique in term of appearance. Not only were her scales ashen pink in color, but also the fact that some of her unusual features, especially her blonde mane and her coral-like horns, made her stood out among the duller-colored dragons. Her enemies would surely have been alerted ever since that Fel'uven escaped. Or, rather, they already knew who she was before the confrontation in Carlesi.

  "It is as I feared," thought Henrietta. "I can't stay anonymous forever."

  Worried of this development, Henrietta pulled Bartlett to her side with her claws, surprising the onlookers with the unusual gesture.

  "Sorry, people," said Bartlett, apologetically raising his hands. "She's a feisty one."

  Henrietta did not appreciate being called feisty, but she kept this thought for herself until they got out of earshot for her to safely talk with her companion.

  "Feisty?" she complained, keeping her voice low.

  "You were acting like a feisty girlfriend," he commented, causing her to become bewildered.

  "I am not your girlfriend!"

  "Yes, I know. Or, would you rather I try to explain why a dragon can freely speak to anyone? We both know we don't have the necessary patience to do so."

  Henrietta sighed. Keeping her secret was starting to get harder and harder the more she traveled in the open.

  "But enough of that. What's wrong, Henrietta?"

  Bartlett's enquiry made her return to the original reason why she pulled him aside.

  "We need to go as soon as possible," said Henrietta. "If they know where we are...."

  "I agree," said Bartlett. "The longer we stay in Ottimar, the more we put these people at risk. But we can't move, not when Rory and Shana are still injured."

  "And we can't just leave Thomas behind. He'd never want to leave Rory's side," surmised Henrietta. "Besides, if they know who he really is...."

  "Don't think too much about it. They went to Carlesi to find Shana. They didn't even know that you and Thomas would be involved. Maybe they thought he's just a hired adventurer, not someone important enough. If they truly think he's a danger to their plans, they would not hesitate to invade Clydeth just to find him."

  Henrietta had no choice but to agree with Bartlett's line of thoughts.

  "So, what are we going to do?" asked Henrietta. "Or rather, what's your plan?"

  "Tell them everything that happened in Carlesi, and implore them to defend the town. We can stay for one night before we have to move and divert their attention from these townspeople. I hope those doctors can heal Rory and Shana enough for them to be safely moved."

  "Implore them how?" asked Henrietta. "I'm not trying to downplay your importance, Bartlett, but you're an adventurer, not an official dragon rider."

  "I...have my ways," said Bartlett, hesitantly. "Trust me on this one, princess. Just don't ask."

  Being asked not to only served to make Henrietta curious as to how Bartlett was going to convince the townspeople. Just as he left, Thomas, who walked out of the nearby hospital, approached Henrietta, looking visibly distressed. She started to assume the worst.

  "Thomas?" she asked. Her tone tender. "What's wrong? Is...is Rory...."

  "He will be fine," said the young mage. "The doctor did his best to save his life. It's just...looking at him so mangled and so close too death...I...."

  His pale face told Henrietta everything she needed to know. It was, after all, the same face he showed the last time they saw each other, when Henrietta was still human. It might not look as bad to her, considering that she accepted her death back then, but for Thomas, who saw her injured and her stomach torn open, it would be horrifying. Perhaps Rory's condition reminded him of that harrowing moment.

  "Thomas, hey," she called. "You said it yourself. He will come through in the end."

  "But why must he fought that monster alone?! Why can't he retreat when Bartlett got injured? If we fight together, that monster was--"

  "Rory must have his own reasons to do so," said Henrietta. "Unfortunately, you can only ask him later, when he has been healed."

  "I know that. It's just...I can't believe how reckless he was. I can't bear losing another person I cared about. Don't he understand?"

  He drooped his head.

  "Why must I suffer this two times in my life? My sister was also like that. She wanted to protect me to the point of grievous injury. She was a princess, for god's sake, not a warrior in armor! She couldn't possibly have fought those monsters in a nightgown! Why must she act like a fool just to save me?!"

  Given that the object of his complain was right in front of him, it made sense for her to be tempted to just tell him that she survived being a foolish guardian. But she couldn't. His words made her think about her own actions, of her life post-transformation. It would make more sense for them both if she just muster enough courage to tell him that she was his thought-dead sister.

  But part of her did not want that. It was not a thought made out of cruelty, but one made out of her own weakness as a human. She was being held back by her own guilt of not trying to search for Thomas and was consumed by her own desire for vengeance. When she killed those Wyrithian soldiers, she admitted to herself that she did it out of glee and sadistic pleasure, not out of necessity. She unnecessarily prolonged the suffering of the cockatrice because she was angry. Angry that it hurt her, despite knowing that it was just trying to survive. Upon reflection, it wasn't necessary for her to rip that man's head off like a doll. It wasn't necessary for her to bash the skull of the cockatrice before breaking its neck.

  She realized that she was becoming crueler as she hated the people who ruined her life by what she did to the cockatrice. She should've just break its neck and be done with it, but she ended up bashing its skull more times than necessary, all because she was angered by the fact that she was being bested by the venomous chimera. While she did not think that way when dealing with the Fel'uven, it made her think of what her brother would think of her later, when she decided that it was best to reveal who she was.

  She wanted to believe that Thomas would disregard these slights. He didn't know what transpired in that cave. Bartlett would not be cruel enough to reveal that fact to Thomas. Perhaps that could end up becoming her own dirty little secret. Or perhaps he didn't think much about it. The uncertainty made her scared. Scared that Thomas would see her as a beast instead of a human. Scared that he was unable to bear the truth.

  And her fear won in the end.

  "They did that because they loved you," said Henrietta, not revealing who she was. "They want to protect you the way they know best."

  She was disappointed in herself. She could've just told him that it was her who cared for him, not this separate individual who was the princess of Manarithia.

  "They way they know best?" repeated Thomas.

  "You see, they fought the enemies to protect you, but they only know that the only way to do that was through violence," she explained. "Don't blame them for being so foolish, Thomas."

  "I...see," he said, not sure what to think of from those words.

  "You can ask Rory once he woke up," said Henrietta. "I'm sure he'll tell you the same thing."

  "Perhaps." Thomas sighed, feeling a little better. "I...don't know what's happening to me lately. Things got out of hand to the point where a dragon, of all thing, gave me the best reason out of any."

  "People tend to not think clearly in the face of danger," said Henrietta. "But I'm sure they have their reasons."

  "I suppose."

  Henrietta wanted to just slap herself for not taking this chance to tell him who she really was. This ended up giving her an idea that was rather unfounded.

  That perhaps she liked being dragon. Perhaps this freedom was better than being limited to a human.

  Perhaps the curse eroded her of her humanity, and over time, she would no longer speak, only grunt and growl like the dragon she had become. By then, she would truly had become a beast.