Shortly after hatching from his egg, George had wanted to explore the new world. While his parents weren't looking, he scampered from the house and began to explore the surrounding forest. While wandering, he came upon a cave.

    There's a hole! he thought with excitement, scurrying into it on all fours. After rounding some corners and sniffing every corner, he bumped into a man wearing black robes and glasses.

    "What is this?" the man said, turning around to look down at him. The man bent and studied him and then stumbled backward, gasping. "Your birthmark! It's — It's purple!" George pawed at the man, wanting some kind of attention and was quite happy when he picked him up and carried him deeper into the cave.

    After a while, they came to a stone table and he set George on it and strapped him down. George looked around with wide eyes as the ugliest people he'd ever seen surrounded him, gawking at him. They had leathery skin and wings.

    There was a chinking sound as Mark drew a dagger and came toward him.

    "What are you doing?" asked one of the hideous winged people.

    "Look at his mark!" the man cried in a hysterical way. "It's purple! He is special. These kinds aren't very common. We must sacrifice him and we'll get his power!" The dagger gleamed in a greedy way as it came toward George's throat. Realizing what kind of danger he was in, George began to struggle in his bondage, squeaking in terror.

    Just as the dagger grazed his throat, George felt something within him rise from the depths and escape through his mouth. The room lit brighter than the sun, blinding the man and the winged people momentarily, and George snapped the straps. He ran for his life.

    He bolted upright with a gasp, glancing around, expecting to see an evil man with a knife chasing him. Instead, he saw John, who was snoring and drooling.

    "Everybody up!" he screamed, scrambling to his feet. "I've just had an epiphany!"

    "Let me guess," Paul said, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. "The world is going to end in about a week if we don't hurry our butts to wherever Mark is hiding."

    George blinked. "No."

    "Well, then it's not important," Paul said, acting as if he was going to go back asleep.

    "I'm special!" George blurted.

    John let out a bark of laughter. "Whatever."

    "I just had a dream about meeting Mark when I was a baby," George explaining, desperately trying to get them to understand. "I wandered into his cult cave, I think, and it was him and some harpies. He tried to kill me so he could get my power."

    "Your lucky he didn't spend his life trying to track you down instead of just taking the crown," Paul said.

    "He knew that George's power wouldn't be as powerful as the king's crown," Ringo pointed out. "So he let it go."

    "What kind of power was it?" John asked. "I'm supposed to know what elements the birthmarks represent, but I kind of zoned out during Mimi's lecture."

    "I think," George said carefully, "it's light, because when he tried to kill me I shot light out of my mouth."

    "Huh," Ringo said.

    "Huh," John echoed, putting his hands on his hips.

    "Huh," Paul chimed in.

    "Would it be too much if I said 'huh' too?" George asked.

    "Not at all," John said, poker-faced.

    "Well, huh!" George grinned.

    "So you didn't remember this until now?" Ringo asked.

    "I would have said something if I had!" George exclaimed.

    "Try it," John said, eyes full of eagerness. "Let's see if you can do it."

    George tried to remember that feeling of something clawing its way out of the abyss of his . . . Had it come from his soul? It had come from somewhere deep inside him, working its way up his throat with such force it reminded him of throwing up. He concentrated on getting it to come out, but nothing happened.

    "Nothing," he said, shaking his head.

    "Oh," Paul said, looking slightly disappointed.

    "Mark also said I was special," George said proudly.

    "Pfft!" Paul said, cackling as wildly as a hyena. "You? Special?" He slapped his hand on his knee, rolling in hysterics.

    "I'm not kidding."

    "I'll believe it when I see it," Paul said, finally going serious. "You probably just had a normal dream, not a vision."

    George rolled his eyes.

    "Well, we should get going," John said, looking up at the sun to calculate what time it was. "It's just around six or seven."

    They gathered up their things and set off, following the dead grass trail that they had found again after leaving Mimi's. Every once in a while, they would stumble upon something one of his monsters left behind and it usually sent chills slithering up George's spine. They were playing the parts of heroes, but they were basically just little kids running around with wooden swords, saying they were going to be knights. George could never imagine himself being a hero, and the thought of having a speical power sent a thrill through him.

    Martha suddenly stopped, cocking her head to the side. Paul noticed and came to a halt as well. "What is it, girl?"

    "She's probably just got a flea," John said dismissively. "Dumb dogs, carrying around every disease known to man."

    "And cats don't?" Ringo said with a smirk.

    "Cats are sophisticated," John said, turning his nose up in that air.

    "No, I think she hears something," Paul said, watching her intently. "Martha, what is it?"

    Martha looked at him, ears perked up, and barked.

    "Oh, really?" Paul said, acting like he could understand her. John rolled his eyes. "Show us, Martha! Show us!"

    Martha's legs tensed and she took off in a run, ears flopping behind her wildly. Paul took off after her, leaving the three of them staring after the pair in disbelief.

    "He thinks he's a dog whisperer," John muttered.

    "Maybe that's what his power is," George said with amusement as they started following at a casual pace.

    Ringo snorted.

    After a few moments of walking in silence, George heard a ruckus. Martha was barking, Paul was calling to someone, and that person was crying in terror.

    "Guys, I think it really is someone," George said and then dashed to where Paul and Martha were by a lake. He stopped, the mud almost causing him to slide into Paul, who gaping at the blond young woman flailing her arms in the water. The temperature had dropped last night and it was far too cold to be going for a swim.

    "We need to do something!" George cried, looking at Paul frantically.

    "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" Paul whispered, pacing, running his hands through his hair.

    "What is all this?" John asked in annoyance as he and Ringo came through the trees into the clearing. John's irritation was doused when he saw the drowning woman and he froze. "Well," he said slowly. "We didn't see this. Let's just . . . carry on about our day." He turned and tried to walk away, but Ringo stopped him, giving him a scolding glare.

    Paul stiffened beside George, wings bursting through his shoulder blades. George had to take few steps away from him to keep from getting stomped on. Roaring in anger, Paul blew ice across the lake, freezing the water into a nice little bridge that was complete with intricate designs. George raised an eyebrow. He was really thinking about how pretty his bridge looked when someone was drowning?

    Paul transformed back into his human form and ran across the ice, slipping only twice. He reached the woman and pulled her from the water, carrying her back to shore. He laid her down on the grass and hovered over her with worry clear in his eyes.

    The woman coughed up water and gazed up at him. "Thank you," she said quietly.

    "Don't mention it," Paul said, voice strained.

    There was silence for a moment before John said, "Wait. What just happened?"

    "I think Paul unleashed his power," Ringo said with a smile.

    "My friend," the woman said, sitting up quickly and looking around in a distraught way. "You need to help me find my friend. Those — Those things were after us. That's why I went into the water, so they couldn't get me. I — I don't know where she is."

    "What's your friend's name, love?" Paul asked urgently.

    "Olivia," the woman said.

    "Olivia!" Paul yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth, looking around the trees to see any sign of movement.

    Before long, they were all yelling for her, racing through the forest for any sign of her. When they were all about to give up hope, George heard something. He immediately stopped, listening to the sounds around him. Distantly, he heard cries for help.

    Before he could even think, his dragon form took over, launching himself into the air, his wings smacking into the branches. As he was soaring over the trees he looked down and saw a few harpies trying to maul a woman to death. He swooped down and felt the familiar feeling of something crawling out from deep within him. He opened his mouth and shot light at the harpies, burning them to crisps. He almost flew into a tree because he was so surprised. He hadn't known that could happen.

    George landed and transformed back, running to the woman. "Olivia?"

    She was bloody and her clothes were torn, but she looked like she was mostly all right. "Thanks for saving me," she said with a smile as he helped her stand up. She looked at the ashes of the harpies and grinned even wider. "That was some wild stuff."

    George laughed.

    "Have you seen my friend Linda?" Olivia asked, growing serious.

    "Yes, she's safe."

    "Good." She nodded.

    "I'll take you to her," George said and began to lead her through the woods.

* * *

After telling the girls what their intentions were out in the forest, they insisted on tagging along. John tried to talk them out of it, telling them that they would experience some "seriously scarring things" if they went, but they persisted.

    After hours of following the path, George could hardly even walk anymore because his feet were aching. They all agreed to stop for the night and they found a cave.

    "We don't know what's in there," Paul said as they stood outside nervously. "It could be a bear's home."

    "Or worse," Ringo added.

    "Well, I'm not scared," John said, puffing his chest out. Before anyone could stop him, he slipped inside and didn't come out for a few minutes. Just as they were beginning to believe something had eaten him, he came back out, looking pale. "You might want to see this."

    They followed him in as he used a torch to shine light on the walls. George couldn't understand why he was focused on the walls so much until he started to see paintings. Someone from the days of old had depicted tales of dragons on the walls.

    "There," John said, brushing a hand against a purple dragon above all the other dragons, shining light into the sun. He looked at George. "That's — That's your kind."

    "What?" George said, drawing closer and studying the purple dragon. It was his color and it was shining light . . . and it was above all others. It took a few seconds for it to sink in. "I'm important."

    "Oh, no," Paul moaned.

    "I am the greatest!" George announced, throwing his arms out.

    Olivia giggled.

    "I shouldn't have even pointed it out," John grumbled, crossing his arms.

    "I am the best dragon," George said, dancing around the cave. "I am the most loved dragon! I am the handsomest dragon!"

    "No one said anything about that," Paul interjected hurriedly.

    "Wee!" George cried, jumping into the air.

    Ringo shook his head.

    "Is he all right?" Linda asked, looking concerned.

    "He's fine," Paul huffed. "Hey, bragging is my thing!"

    John snorted at George. "You can't even fly well yet."

    "I just flew today, didn't I, Olivia?" George said.

    "He did," Olivia said with a nod.

    Linda wandered down the wall, brushing her hands over the paintings. "Over here it has an index for what your colors mean."

    "Really?" Ringo said, coming closer.

    "Blue means ice," Linda said. "Red means fire. Green means earth. And purple means light. It also says that purple is very rare."

    "I'm so special!" George said, beginning to prance again.

    "Oh, don't start that again," Paul moaned.

    George ignored him, practically bursting with pride. He was rare and that was all that mattered.