"Joan?"

His head whips over in my direction at the sound of my voice. His WTH face matches mine and we're both locked in a staring contest until we finally realize this isn't a trick of our minds.

Brent's actually here!

"What the-"

We meet each other halfway before colliding. We're too shocked to embrace each other- not that we would under any other circumstances (plus, he's wet- must've fallen in that same pond I did).

I finally get my words out. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," He replies in disbelief.

"You first," I beat him to the chase, giving him a smug smile as he sighs.

"Fine, but I promise I'm not sniffing glue," He takes a dramatic pause, glances around, then sighs again. "So, I woke up this morning and I kept hearing your voice, like in my head- it was freaky-"

I arch a questioning brow but he's already stopping my thoughts from spilling out.

"I swear I'm not on anything, I swear-"

"You sure-"

"Yes."

Brent's not one to fabricate things so there has to be some truth to this, however out there it sounds.

He continues. "Yeah, so I'm hearing your loud, obnoxious voice in my head all morning and that's not how I want to spend my day, no offense, so I thought about taking some aspirin or something to drown you out-"

"-yet claims he's not high on anything right now-"

"-but then dad woke up and he'd be suspicious if he saw me trying to get into the medicine because then he would ask why I would need some and I was kind of already feeling like I was losing it so, yeah, I said screw it and didn't take anything. You did shut up for a little bit but then you starting talking again and I couldn't get you out. Also, could you not talk about your tits for a day- it's kind of weird listening to you in my head talk about them."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," This has officially switched into the Twilight Zone now. "You overheard my conversation from last night?"

"Last night? What are you-"

"I was talking to Marlowe last night and that was exactly what we talked about."

He's giving me that "really now" look. "First off, who's Marlowe? Secondly, why are you always talking about your boobs? No one cares but you."

After my immature bout of sticking out my tongue, I address him by turning to find Marlowe, but it seems the girl and her brother have grown shy. They linger by the store they purchased meal from.

"She's over there," I point. "Come on."

As I lead him over to the duo, they stare at my brother in silent questioning- like they're not quite sure what to expect from him.

"Guys, this is my little brother, Brent."

"Only younger than her in age."

I jab him to which he zealously returns the gesture.

The poor things, they don't know how to perceive our rough, brotherly-sisterly affection- even Marlowe looks at a loss.

"This is Marlowe and Oslen."

"It's nice to meet you," Oslen replies, all diplomatic and such.

Brent isn't aware of how alienlike these people are that are judging us so he automatically launches into his usual stint as if we're at home. No time for them to even adjust to his level.

"On behalf of your innocence," He places a hand on Marlowe's shoulder in a supposedly apologetic way. "I'm sorry you had to listen to my sister spew on about her hooters, especially at night when you're trying to dream of good things."

Knocking his hand off her shoulder, I roll my eyes at him.

"Oh, give me a break, Jack. I haven't traumatized her like you are acting like a creep right now."

"Says the girl who talked about her bodily organs with a random child."

Before we can devolve into our usual slapstick, Marlowe cocks her head in confusion.

"I thought you said his name was Brent."

"Huh?"

Oslen, as perplexed as a mathematician with the wrong equation, adds in.

"You just called him Jack when you mentioned his name was Brent."

Oh, I read them now.

"It's just a nickname. His real name's Brent."

"Everyone has nicknames in our house," Brent explains.

"Really?" Marlowe sounds like this is the newest concept since birth control. "What's Joan's?"

"Well, there's a lot," He shrugs nonchalantly. "But if you're looking for the censored, kid-friendly version then it's Beanstalk."

"Beanstalk? Like, a beanstalk?"

"Yeah, she already looks like one."

She still wears a face of utter befuddlement as she turns to tell her brother, "I don't understand."

Before he can explain, Brent returns to the main issue at hand.

"Like I was saying before I was interrupted, I kept hearing your grating voice in my head and it was driving me wild. So I went over to grandma and grandpa's place to find you and shut you up, but they were about to head out to lunch and said you must have left because you weren't around. But I kept hearing your voice. And, I don't even know why, but I decided to walk into the woods and your voice kept getting louder until I came across this glowing bush- that was where your voice was coming from."

"You saw that bush too!?" I exclaim. "That thing sucked me in or something."

"Well, it felt like somebody pushed me in and now here I am."

"This magical bush," Oslen interjects. "Have you known about it from before?"

"If I did do you think I would have let it drag me in?"

Marlowe, now not as confused, pipes up. "Why did it take you here? Both of you?"

Brent and I exchange a look, giving each other blank expressions before I look back at her and reply.

"Not a clue. Maybe we're just due for an adventure."

"Well, you are always welcomed in our home," Oslen tells Brent. "My parents will be enthralled by you."

I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, so get this," Brent has to hear this. "Apparently mom and dad have been here before and their parents knew our parents. It's really crazy. It's almost convincing, almost."

"You don't believe them?" Marlowe frowns.

I scoff. These kids were a whoop.

"Would you?"

This time, she and her brother exchange a look before she replies-

"Yes."

Scoffing again, I wave her off. "Please. You have to admit, their claims are a little outrageous."

"What do they say?" Brent asks.

"It's weird. Like, mom knew this enchantress chick and she came here twice- oh! The best one has to be about dad," I can barely keep myself together as I tell him. "Apparently, dad used to be a king here, wouldn't you know it."

He gives a fixed face- the doubting face as I've named it- in response.

"That's...interesting."

"Yeah. Take it with a grain of salt."

"Our parents aren't liars," Oslen argues, a little upset sounding.

"Look, I'm not calling them liars, I'm just alluding that they're a little confused is all."

"But they're not," Marlowe cries.

"Our dad can't be from here, he's from Transylvania, and our mom never mentions your parents so someone's not telling the truth here."

Brent speaks up. "She might have actually- not that Joan here pays any attention to those kinds of things. What are your parents' names?"

"Olivos and Elle."

While Brent ponders that, I stick to my guns by claiming something's off.

"Maybe they're thinking of another couple. Besides, how would any of us know if the other's telling the truth? We weren't there."

"Actually," Brent rejoins the conversation with a new look of revelation. "Mom has mentioned someone named Elle before."

"Elle's a common name," I reply with an eye roll. "Don't take it to heart."

"And Sephora," He adds.

Marlowe perks up. "That's the name of the enchantress our parents knew."

"Come on, Jack, you can't possibly believe mom and dad have been here before."

"Look, I'm just stating what mom mentioned and she has mentioned those names before. We know everyone she does except those people."

Give me a break. "Dad never brings up anyone from here."

"He doesn't mention anyone from Transylvania either."

Come on, Brent, don't jump on the looney wagon now.

"Dad's not social like that. He probably never really cared for anyone there. Oh, don't give me that look."

He's giving me that you-know-you're-wrong face.

"He doesn't have an accent," He claims.

"Really? Yeah, usually you don't if you've lived in the States for eighteen plus years. It goes away, you know."

"He doesn't act like he's from Transylvania either."

"Whose side are you on?"

"I told you, I'm just speculating. Things aren't adding up."

"So," I shrug. "Let it be. Some things just aren't meant to make sense."

"And that mindset is why you almost failed math last year."

I would put in him an arm lock if we weren't in public, but we are and so I'll just have to settle for a scathing glare.

"Perhaps it's of no importance who's right or wrong," Oslen claims. "Your parents surely have a reason for their actions- whatever those actions may be."

Before I can retort, Brent agrees with him- always being the agreeable one.

"Yeah, why does it even matter?"

I can agree with that. Why does it even matter to begin with?

"Then let's forget about it," I state. "It's all in the past now."

Marlowe's eagerness has made a comeback. "I'm glad we can put that behind us. Ooh! You should see this old windmill that sits in the woods just outside of-"

I cut her off with a light chuckle. "Yeah, I don't do anything old. Old cars, old houses, old people, yeah, nothing old."

"Oh, come on," Brent teases. "Don't be such a chicken." He turns to the other two. "The only reason she doesn't do old things is because she's scared of them. Scared of old cars being possessed by spirits, scared of old buildings being haunted, scared of old people because they naturally just don't like her-"

"Um, excuse you," I dramatically toss my frizzy tumbleweed hair over my shoulder. "I'll have you know that all people of every kind dislike me immensely."

While we have a good laugh at that, Marlowe and Oslen look on with bewilderment as if pigs could play poker.

"You must like each other's company," Oslen observes.

"She's alright...most days," Brent continues his jocular play.

"Yeah," I join in. "I don't think about strangling him most days either."

Crap, we have to stop messing with these innocent souls- they're too well-mannered to be dealing with immature people like us- but it's so much fun messing around with their heads.

"I promise it's not scary," Marlowe decides to beg about the mill again. "We'll all go together."

"Alright, alright, I give," I toss my hands up in surrender. "We can visit this mill. But if I hear some supernatural anything, I'm out."

"Before we go," Oslen says. "We need to finish buying what mama asked of us."

Marlowe groans in disappointment but complies.

"We should divide the list," She suggests. "That way we'll be able to get everything then explore sooner."

"That's fine by me, just don't waste the money."

She gives a mini cheer for herself (love that kid).

"I'll go find the tools. He can go with me." She points to Brent, already latching onto him.

Though they're the younger siblings, I feel as though Brent would be a better match with her simply due to the fact that my personality and her personality share too many similarities- not what you want in a crowded marketplace. Brent can keep her lid on like he does for me.

"He has a name, you know," Brent replies. "But he will go with you anyway."

"Great," I smile while Marlowe celebrates. "I'll be going with Oslen then."

Oslen doesn't wear the most excited face but he's not that kind of guy from what I've gathered.

"Once you're finished buying what you need, wait for us by the blacksmith." He tells her.

She's already dragging poor Brent along like a dog on a leash.

Oslen then turns to me, already looking uncertain. I'm sure my mischievous grin doesn't bode over well with him.

"We need to get barley," He begins, walking ahead of me.

I quickly catch up to him, sticking by his side as we weave our way through the thicket of bodies.

"Anything else besides that?"

"Barley and a few extra spices."

"Cool."

It's a dead conversation, one neither of us tries to revive until we're standing in line for a sack of barley and he decides to randomly hit back on a topic we've already passed.

"How do you run so fast?" He's studying me like there's some equation to it.

"I told you. Magic."

"Sorry if this seems inappropriate, but you are quite the odd one. You're not like most girls here. Are the girls where you're from like you?"

Giving him a cheeky grin, I reply. "Nah, I'm a rarity wherever I go. Thanks, though."

I'm given a pretty familiar troubled look by him, one I'm so used to I could feel it from lightyears away- my adapted sixth sense.

After buying the barley, we're off to get the spices. Since he brought up a question, I thought I might put one out to him.

"You don't hate me yet, do you?"

He gives me a double glance, taken back with me as always.

"No. Should I have cause to?"

I think on that. "Aside from the bucket thing, no, but I always like to make sure. You see, there are some people I want to hate me so I can justifiably hate them back, some who I accidentally make hate me, and then the small percentage that doesn't hate me...yet."

"I'm sure the percentage isn't as small as you would think."

"It's a small town I come from."

"Is it called Cauldron?"

I pause. "Okay, stop that, seriously. How do you know that?"

He stops as well. "My parents told me. Your mother used to talk about it."

I roll my eyes then start back up.

"Alright, just quit it with this psychic thingy, will ya?"

"Why do you become so defensive about it, if I may I ask?"

"I don't- okay, maybe I do know a little. How would you feel if you appeared in a new world and there were people that knew your parents but your parents never mentioned them at all? It's just weird is all."

He nods as we continue along. "Fair enough."

"Yeah, but enough of that, let's talk about spices."

"What's there to talk about?"

"Firstly, what's your favorite spice? Are you a ginger guy or a cinnamon lover?"

"Who has a favorite spice?" He questions critically.

"Um, me. The real question is who-"

When a flashing shadow whooshes over my head, my first thoughts are to an amusement park ride that whizzes past you as you walk by- even the rough breeze that follows, knocking over some lightweight carts and things doesn't alarm me. It really begins to feel like an amusement park when the chatter intensifies from the crowd, but it's not the enthusiastic, gleeful wave of energy amusement parks would create. Instead, a hush then panic arises from the people. Again, slow day for me so I'm not immensely disturbed by this.

"What was that?" I ask, looking to Oslen for answers.

Frozen shock is probably the first clear emotion I've seen featured on his face since I've met him. It doesn't even look like my question registered with him. His eyes are transfixed behind me, up at the sky.

Glancing around, I notice everyone's eyes are trained on the sky. Not wanting to be left out- legit the main reason- I turn around and shield my eyes from the sun's glare as I stare up at the sky.

In that instant, I'm stuck in the same frozen state as Oslen and the others.

Dragon. No other way to put it.

Not only is it the first dragon I have ever seen, it is the biggest creature I have seen in my life. Like, if I were to compare it to an elephant, the elephant would be a midday snack for that thing.

As terrifying as that sounds, it's also a dragon so there's an element of awesomeness that comes along with the fear. Not to mention, it's a pure white dragon so it's breathtakingly stunning as well.

It's as though everyone is too frightened to move, as if one twitch of the muscle will cause the flying beast to gobble them whole. I'm currently more frozen in amazement than fear at this point.

I guess it's common to have enchantresses here but not dragons. Got it. Or maybe not dragons this huge.

So, we're stuck in this extreme game of freeze tag (where the first one to move loses) for what feels like an eternity until a low wave of whispers travels through the crowd at a fast pace.

"What's happening?" I ask Oslen, not minding my volume at all.

He blinks then points wordlessly before hoarsely responding, "Up there, on the back."

Squinting up, shielding my eyes again, I, at first, can't make out what he's talking about, but suddenly a small figure appears from on the dragon. Since we're so far away, I can't see who it might be as well as I would like but there's no need to strain my eyes any further because the dragon soon lands, disappearing behind the buildings.

"Come on."

"Where are you going?" He asks, alarmed.

I give him a 'duh' face. "To see what's going on."

Honestly, I'm half concerned his eyes are about to pop from their sockets after saying that. He completely takes back his arm from me.

"Are you mad!? Why would you want to go towards that?"

"Because it's a fuckin' dragon, who wouldn't want to see that?"

Some call it risky living, I call it living for the moment- to each their own.

Since I don't have time for his logic and sensibility, I hurry to find where the creature landed in the village. Judging by the way people are running past me, I think I'm heading the right way. At last, I can hear the dragon's powerful breathing before I even turn into the open square.

I'm only reckless, not stupid, so I keep just out of sight so there's no chance for me to be spotted and eaten. Peering around the corner of a cart, I get a better look at the beast.

"Jesus..."

The thing was a Behemoth.

Apparently, it's not as purely white as I previously thought. Now that I'm up close, I can tell that although it's mainly ash white, the underbelly is made up of some dark, deep blue scales that appear black in the shadows but shimmer their true color in the light. Its claws are unbelievable, its wingspan longer than a football field, even its teeth are finely sharpened and crowded in its mouth. Its amber eyes blaze even when they're not in the sunlight, I mean, those things could suck your soul to the underworld.

I can't help but repeat- "Jesus."

Suddenly, I spot movement from behind the front leg of the beast. Shifting to get a better view, while staying out of sight, I still struggle to get a glimpse at the elusive figure, but my eyes do catch another sight, catty-corner to my position.

Apparently, another recklessly curious soul came to witness the live dragon, but, unlike me, this individual isn't as slick as me about their hiding (they might as well be wearing neon attire).

Of course, I trained my brother well so he would be just as piqued in interested with this thing as me, but, although he's bright- brighter than me by a long shot- he's still only twelve so he's not as mindful about staying hidden.

I can't go hustling across the square to push him into cover, so all I can do is watch his dumbass stare from behind some crates at the massive creature. As much as it would serve his ass right to be gobbled up by this mythical beast, I know mom and dad would not pleased with me at all if I came home without him, so I try getting his attention indirectly and as discreetly as one can with a deadly dragon between them.

Peering as far as I dare around the cart, I start mouthing off to him, hoping he'll sense my eyes on him and glance my way.

"Brent. Brent," It's hardly loud enough for an elephant to hear, much less my oblivious brother who's clearly geeking out because of this. "Come on, look my way!"

Hiding behind the cart again, I search the ground and cabinets for something useful that might get his sole attention. I'm crossing my fingers for a mirror but that's too much to ask for so I settle on a tuning fork thingy.

God, I hope the frequency for this is a pitch higher than a dragon can hear.

But as I crane around the edge again, I don't see him hiding out behind the crates anymore. Confused and left wondering, I figure he a) got bored and went back to safety, b) has crept closer to the creature, or c) has been eaten. I'm shooting for A, but I know the other two options aren't off the table yet.

Still, I have my tuning fork at attention, ready to strike with the mallet until a booming voice causes me to drop the tools like a spaz.

"You are certainly most welcome to come out of the shadows now."

Pressing my back against the cart, I hold my breath. He couldn't be talking about me. I equally hoped he wasn't talking about Brent either.

"Unless the daughter of a bloody tyrant is too cowardice to come forward."

The voice definitely belonged to a male, a taunting one, but I don't recall seeing anyone else in the square. I'm almost too much in shock to look around and try to find the speaker, but I'm still fighting my curiosity and continue to remain hidden just in case.

What's one peek going to hurt?

So ever so slightly, I take a subtle peek around the corner-

"At last we finally meet face-to-face."

I screech, falling backward.

God, he just appeared in front of me like a phantom!

With my heart still pumping a hundred beats a second, I scramble to my feet in order to look the man in the eyes. The charismatic voiced stranger is giving me an equally winning side smile that's doing nothing to make me favor him, especially after the fact that he jump-scared me.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"You are a truculent one," He muses. He acts so casual, as if we've met before. "How amusing is this? I know about you but you know nothing about me."

"Should I?"

He chuckles. Damn, even his laugh is disgustingly alluring. His eyes lighten with some form of anticipation.

"You will."

Though I'm as befuddled, I resort to irritation when pointlessly confused.

"What do you want?"

He answers nonchalantly. "Why, blood, of course. Your blood. Take it as the sins of the father."

"Wait," Ignoring the obvious. "You know my dad as well?"

How many people here know my parents!?

He chuckles again. "No, and for that I am grateful."

"Then how do you-"

"-but I know his reign of terror and the impact he had on this side."

"What? This isn't making sense, no one's making sense. How do you people know my-"

"Because you're the girl with the bloody crown, it's hard to overlook."

Girl with the bloody- what the hell is going on!?

"Look, just leave me alone and fu-"

"Do you want to know who you are?" His eyes drill into me and it's like I'm under some hypnotic spell, unable to tear myself away. "Do you want to know what meaning the name Domshov holds?"

Blinking, I try to recover from the eerie heaviness that was just cast on me.

"Uh," It's a rare spectacle to see me falter at anything, especially speaking my mind. "No- I know who I am."

Though I put as much force into that statement as possible, he reveals a condescending smile, sensing my slight uncertainty.

"It will be quite the easy task bringing you down. But the best things come when we watch the downfall."

Finally, I wise up and retaliate against this weirdo who seems to be too creepily intrigued by me for my comfort.

"Fuck off."

I push past him, or at least I try. As I try to pass, he grabs my wrist. The moment somebody unauthorized touches me, it is hell on earth.

Yanking my arm back from him, I let the uncensored version of me (believe it or not, everything up till then was my censored version) fly loose. Since I'm too busy cussing him out, I don't track where I'm walking, so I'm out in the open, backing away from him in plain sight of the dragon I was once hiding from.

Infuriatingly, all my ire seems to be doing is making him laugh even more at me. It doesn't matter how red my face is, how much distance I put between us, he's closing the gap with a twisted amused smirk on his face.

When I take a break in my diatribe to breathe, he jumps in, releasing a rich chortle.

"You have quite the vocabulary. Perhaps you are already feeling threatened by my presence."

"Stay the fuck away from me."

He ignores my scathing demand and takes another step towards me, leaving me no choice but to go on the offensive.

It's as though he knew I was ready to strike because he seizes my arm- not roughly but firm enough.

"Oh, yes, I will enjoy destroying you piece by piece. I will see to it that you understand how bloody the crown you wear really is."

"Let me-"

"Joan!"

My head snaps over in the direction of my brother's voice. One, I'm relieved he's safe, two, I'm surprised that he's still around, and three, I'm going to kill him for putting himself in danger trying to play hero.

"Ah," He continues his creepy fascination with me. "Joan, is it?"

Managing to yank free, I try to make my way over to Brent, who's running towards us, but the dragon- realizing it has to dragon- lets out a waking roar before lifting its massive claw-like feet, ready to stomp on Brent.

"Brent, move!"

His face bleaches white just as the creature slams its feet down, cracking the cobblestone ground like ice, a trail of thin cracks resulting from the force.

My heart regains rhythm only after seeing him still in one piece, unharmed but clearly shaken. He's huddled on the ground, under the shadow of the dragon who now towers above him.

"Brent!"

I could kill him for scaring the shit out of me like that!

His head pops up and he looks around. I'm guessing he wasn't expecting to live to see another day after that traumatic experience. Brent's a sharp kid, though, and it doesn't take him long to recover from the shock and stand to start running from beneath the creature towards me again.

I start to meet him halfway, my heart ready to give out but my-

Like a fly against the glass, my body slams backward into the cart, knocking some items to the ground around me. The world is so out of orbit that even when I close my eyes I still feel the ground wobbling- which means I can't even get my thoughts straight about what happened.

One second I was running to my brother, the next I felt weightless then got hit with a ton of bricks. The best way I could describe it is like being in a car crash and the airbags go off at full force as you're ejected from the car. I'm usually ready for everything but that- that came from left field.

While my wits slowly come back to me- along with a fresh wave of pain- I can hear a new cacophony of commotion playing out.

"Get away from her!"

Brent?

God, it hurts to even crack open an eye to see the scene. I can only envision the scene from the clutter of noise unfolding.

Laughter ensues. Brent must be confronting the man. Unfortunately, the new, sudden ringing in my ears drowns out the man's voice but Brent's cries of protest pierce the air.

"Let me go! Let go of me! Joan!"

It doesn't matter if I'm bleeding out with a bullet to the brain, when my brother is in trouble I act!

Ignoring the burning pain that shoots through my body as I force open my eyes and scramble to my feet, I barely get a sense of the world around me before I start staggering towards the blur that is my brother and the man. It's worse than walking a straight line drunk. Tripping over my feet, I fall to the ground, too sluggish for normal reflexes to break my fall and save my face.

"Joan!"

As much fight that's still in me, I physically cannot bring myself back to my feet- the best I can do is kneel and try to make out the blurry figures retreating to the dragon.

"Brent, I'm coming!"

"Come on, Joan, get up. Dammit, get up!"

Battling through my fresh pain, I muster up as much stubbornness as I can to get back to my feet and get to my brother. My vision is improving so I can make out the scene a little better now. Not that it's a good scene.

From the looks of it, Brent is being dragged off by the man. His mouth has been covered so he can't call out to me anymore but, like the fighter I've conditioned him to be, he's not going easy. The man handles him, though, as if he's pulling along a belligerent toddler rather than a persistent twelve-year-old. The most startling sight of this scene is the fact that the man is dragging him to the dragon- never a good sign.

"Brent!" With the realization that my brother could be taken, I push myself even harder to reach them before the man can pull him on. "Get the fuck away from my brother!"

With no warning, I trip over myself again. This time, I actually break my fall, but the opportunity has slipped out of my hand.

The man has boarded on the dragon with Brent unwillingly dragged along. Even still, on top of the creature, he tries to break free but with one quick crack to the head, he's out cold.

In complete disbelief about the situation and still dazed, I stare helplessly as the dragon braces for takeoff, its massive wingspan stretching out as it poses itself to fly away. But before it can lift off the ground, the man calls out to me- the world growing quiet as if to hear what he has to say to me.

"This will be quite the adventure now, won't it?" He muses. "I will take pleasure in testing you. Reclaim your father's sword then come find me, I will be patiently waiting as I always have. And to answer your question- as it is only fair of me- you may regard me as Tymos, divine emperor of Pyranaleath'tai."

Without another word spoken between us, the dragon lifts off the ground fluidly as though light as a feather then soars above the square, casting a beastly shadow over it before soaring away.