Mendigo stood watching her at all hours of the day. It sent unnerving chills down her neck from the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep. His lifeless eyes always seemed to be trained on her without even his head moving.

But, one day, he disappeared. One could assume that it was related to the fact that Warren, Tanu, and Kendra had left on a mission somewhere that was too secret for her to know.

Vanessa's informational drought almost felt like that two-year period when she had absolutely no knowledge of Warren's whereabouts. That same mix of dread and anxiety rose in her now as it did then. But, back then, she had had missions to distract her. Now, she had exactly nothing adrenaline-fueled enough to take her mind off Warren.

In fact, everything she did dripped with disgusting domesticity and boredom. But, what else could she do?

For hours, Vanessa lounged on her bed and flipped through the radio channels. Voices sparked through and she flipped through fashion magazines as two commentators argued on the performance of Tom Brady in the Patriots vs. Giants game. Spoiler alert, he broke the record for most touchdowns in a season. Vanessa didn't really care. She was more of an Eagles fan.

After that riveting entertainment, she rubbed off her nail polish with isopropyl alcohol and repainted her nails with the darkest black she had. It matched her hair. Next, she rifled through the various gifts that had been dropped off at her cell, found her makeup bag, and consumed the next thirty minutes applying a glamorous full face. Then, she curled her hair in the most meticulous process full of pins and careful gel that she normally would never have the time for.

But even primping herself up to the likes of Marilyn Monroe became boring.

Instead, she started a new hobby—paper machê—and the exciting part about it was that it was going to be self-taught. Unfortunately, this meant that all her creations ended up more like crumpled balls than like swans.

When even that became boring, she laid on her cot and ran through her vessels. All were still connected which was good for her victims as it meant they were still alive. But, on her third run-through, a red flag popped up. Suddenly, Tanu and Seth fell asleep at the exact same time. Which was weird because Seth should be at home...but of course—he must've snuck on to whatever mission Tanu, Kendra, and Warren were on.

And they must've just encountered danger.

Adrenaline flooded her and excitement sparked at her fingertips. Finally! Thank God. She was actually going to go crazy if she couldn't spend her energy.

Considering they were most likely in danger, Vanessa chose Tanu to become her vessel. Now, while they had prohibited her from controlling any of them, this was clearly an emergency. She overrode the declaration.

As soon as full control washed over Vanessa, a putrid smell assaulted her senses. It was sour and gross. Next, through half-closed eyes, she surveyed the scene around her.

To her right laid Dougan, completely passed out on the floor. How odd. Through the sliver of her closed eye, she perceived a hulking mass heading toward her and a fine mist coating the air. At first, she thought it was just a film on Tabu's eyes, but she blinked and the mist persisted.

As she continued to take in visual stimuli, the familiar tingle of magical fear slid over her brain and wiggled into the crevices. Her heartbeat sped up and her thoughts scrambled. But not enough that she lost her grasp on her mind.

The massive form solidified into a gray dragon, bared teeth shining in the fog. Not like an aggressive face, but the face of a dog trying to sniff something. Next to her laid a sword and Vanessa slowly wrapped her hands around the mantle.

The dragon sniffed Dougan's head and swung over to Vanessa. As soon as he lowered to Tanu's face, she sat up and sliced the sword through the neck of the dragon. It cut halfway in, and she shot to her feet, pulling it out and cutting the other way.

Blood spurted out of the two cuts, and the dragon roared, sluggishly returning to a cave. The magical fear diminished completely.

Riding the high of her victory, she surveyed the dismal scene. It seemed all members of the party were knocked out. She identified Kendra and Seth (concerning), Dougan (hopefully he wouldn't wake up soon–that would be awkward), and Trask (annoyingly the best field operative the Knights had). There were also a few others she didn't recognize. None of them were Warren.

Vanessa traced the steps of the elderly dragon and found him lying on the floor of his cave. A weak movement of the chest betrayed a hint of liveliness. She swung the sword like an executioner and watched as the head rolled away. Gray blood poured out of the dragon's neck. It slicked her boots.

She heaved with exertion and looked at her hands. They were Tanu's of course, but for all intents and purposes, she had just slayed a dragon.

Vanessa Santoro—traitor, spy, prisoner. Dragon slayer.

To kill invoked immense power. Anyone who said it wasn't exciting in some way was lying. Killing rushed through the bloodstream, filling it with the adrenaline of a bygone era of stone spears and wooly mammoths. The divine power of life and death in the hands of one woman.

To kill the pinnacle of all magic? The rush intoxicated her.

But to save her own prison masters? Less exciting. But this was still a step toward freedom.

Vanessa returned to the group, picked up Kendra bridal-style, and walked farther into the immense lair until the mist dissipated.

She set the girl down gently and sat down herself to rifle through Tanu's potion bag. She spotted the notorious truth serum but passed by it and smelled other potions until she found the smelling salts she needed. After twenty minutes of waving them under Kendra's nose, she finally came to.

Through a conversation with her, Vanessa came to know that they were in a Dragon Temple which was absolutely insane, but the even more insane part was that Vanessa wished she could stay.

Kendra suggested that Vanessa use the knapsack to retrieve the rest of the party, and as soon as Vanessa spotted it on her way back to the group, she poked her head in.

Her heart dropped to her throat.

There was a small storage looking room with a ladder to the mouth of the knapsack. And at the bottom of the ladder, Warren laid bloody and crumpled.

Fear quickened her steps and she climbed down the ladder, careful to step over his body at the last rung. She turned him over on his back. Deep, dried bloody wounds marred his chest, and his arm twisted at an awkward angle.

It was bad. Really bad.

She checked his pulse at his neck and his warm skin held a steady beat-beat-beat. His chest rose and fell consistently over the ten seconds she observed.

He had a pulse. He was breathing. He wasn't dying.

Vanessa sat back on her knees and breathed. She hadn't experienced that kind of visceral fear in a while. She did not enjoy it. After a moment, she recalibrated her head space and reconsidered the situation.

Considering the old blood, the emerging bruising around his arms, and his location at the bottom of the stairs, he must've tried to scale them, was knocked out by the gas while en route, and fell.

Warren wouldn't be helpful if she woke him up considering his condition, and it probably would be better for his health if he stayed asleep.

She wiped the dirt away from his forehead and pressed a light kiss to his brow. His skin felt soft and familiar. Her lipstick imprinted a soft red sheen but his flushed skin hid any discoloration. They may not be what they had been ever again, but she still cared for him whether she liked it or not.

With a last pat to his shoulder, Vanessa scaled back up and collected the rest of the mission crew into the knapsack. She had a brief conversation with Kendra, set the girl up with smelling salts, and did the hardest thing yet that night: Vanessa relinquished control and trusted in other people's ability to finish the mission successfully without her.

Truly—a first.