I must have passed out for a blip in time because the next thing I know, I'm opening my eyes like awakening from a dream. I might have believed it was a dream if it wasn't for the soreness that permeates my body or the web of cracks where the dragon demonstrated his force.

Since the dragon is gone, the townspeople are beginning to creep cautiously back in, their murmurs low and antsy as if they believe it might return.

No one really goes out of their way to help me, largely due in part to the fact that I get to my feet- however unsteady- in an effort to spare my pride. Yeah, it sucked I was flung across the square like a dog tog but it would suck balls if other people knew I got an ass-whopping, even if they don't know my reputation.

Leaning against the wall of a building, I attempt to sort everything out. I don't even notice the stream of people filing in to inspect the damage in the midst of the square, and though the large gathering is uncomfortable to be around I don't slip out. Mingled in the crowd, I can spot Marlowe roaming about aimlessly with Oslen pushing frantically through the mass towards her.

Marlowe, unfortunately, points me out and the duo starts weaving their way to me. Gotta maintain that dignity even though I look a hot mess right now.

"What happened to you?" Oslen asks in shock.

I've learned to take pain like a boss, but this is actually a new level of pain. Still, I grit my teeth and casually reply-

"Nothing."

Marlowe blinks, her brown eyes wider than an anime schoolgirl. "You look terrible."

I'll have to tell Nora I found a fun-size version of her.

"I told you not to run after trouble," Oslen says, teetering on the border of scolding.

"Yeah, yeah, welcome to the I-told-you-Joan club."

Wincing as I straighten- every bone in my back cracking as I do so- I let my mind process the situation.

"We should begin heading home now," Oslen suggests.

"No," I choke out. "He has my brother."

They exchange looks then ask in unison, "Who?"

"That dragon guy, the one on the back of it."

"Why would he take your brother?" Marlowe questions.

"I don't know. He didn't make a lot of sense. Oh, and I'm supposed to find this sword my father supposedly had."

Oslen starts up, "I think it's best we tend to your injuries first before you start seeking whatever-"

"No, the most important thing is finding that creep and getting my brother back, that's what needs to be done first."

Marlowe frowns. "But how?"

Already, I start, while trying my best not to limp, to head to the entrance of the square.

"Finding that sword then finding him then- fuck it, I don't know but I'mma hunt him down."

Catching up to me, Oslen places a sturdy hand on my arm, preventing me from going any further.

"Joan, slow down. Who is this man you're talking about? Where is this sword? You must explain in order for-"

"You know what?" I'm done being in denial over this, reality hit me hard. "We should go back to your house because I need answers and your parents have them. Let's go."

He exchanges yet another concerned look with his sister before they follow me out of the village back on the road to their house.

There are too many things to count running through my head as I hobble my way back. Though pain shoots through me with every step, my determination drowns out the uncomfortability. I'm still trying to piece together what happened (and how I could let this happen).

If Brent had just kept his curious butt on the sidelines, out of sight, I wouldn't be in this predicament right now. Though I'm victim blaming hard right now, I gotta take off the hypocrite hat and acknowledge I, too, went to see the dragon. Now I'm in for something I didn't want to be in for.

We make it back to the Disney inspired cottage, albeit with me slick in my own sweat, where Elle is coming from around back with a basket in one hand and Camus in the other. Upon seeing us though, mostly me, she drops the basket and hurries over, ushering me inside.

"What happened?" She asks the other two while getting things ready.

"Mama, there was a dragon in the square today." Marlowe cries.

Not surprisingly, Elle casts her a cynical glance on that.

"A dragon in the square?"

"There was," Oslen defends her claim. "That's what attacked Joan."

Her eyes widen at me, but the only thing I'm worried about right now are answers so I jump the gun.

"What do you know about my parents? Like, everything."

Blinking at me, she hesitates, startled by the fact that the subject I chose to ignore for so long is being brought up front and center now. Resuming her task to gather materials to clean my injuries, she starts.

"Well, as I've mentioned before, I was mainly familiar with your mother-"

"What about my dad?"

Another hesitation before a faltering start.

"He was the king here for about five years by the time your mother showed up."

"How old was he when he met my mom?"

Thinking as she went about, she replies, "Going on his twentieth year."

"Give me details. What was he like before he met my mom? Did he know anyone named Tymos?"

"Tymos? That name is not familiar with me, I'm sorry. I don't know as much about your father as with your mother. He didn't seem to have anyone close to him when I knew him. From what I gathered, he was not a trusting man."

Not good enough. It's times like these I wish I paid attention more to my parents' ramblings they call life stories. Dad never tells stories from his past, though, that's the thing, and the one person who actually asks good questions has been taken.

I've gotta dig deeper.

"Does bloody crown mean anything to you? Is that what they called him?"

Pressing a damp rag to my bruised arm, she bites her bottom lip. "No, I don't recall ever hearing that about him."

"Please, I need something. My brother is in trouble and I need to figure out who this Tymos guy is and where my dad's sword or whatever is located."

At that final statement, she freezes.

"Your father's sword?" She breathes. "I know where that is."

Bingo.

"Where?"

"Before he left, your father had a sword that he plunged into the ground. It should still be in the throne room of the castle."

"Throne room of the castle, got it."

"But the castle's been abandoned for years."

"And you don't like abandoned buildings, remember?" Marlowe brings up.

I would explore a thousand abandoned buildings if it gave me the opportunity to save my brother.

"I guess I'll have to tolerate it then."

"You can't possibly be thinking about going on that journey to retrieve a sword in your current state." Oslen protests.

"'Tis but a scratch."

"That may not be the wisest choice," Elle agrees, biting her lip. "You are hurt and your body requires rest. You must wait a bit before-"

"There's no time. I need to get my brother back. You'd do the same if it was your brother in trouble, wouldn't you?"

Judging from the torn expression on her face, I can already predict the answer. Still, she's an adult so she's going to try her hardest to dissuade me by talking logic and common sense.

"I understand how upsetting this experience must be for you," She says with sympathy swimming in her eyes. "But you mustn't make rash decisions, they may not lead where you want them to."

Knowing at this point she'd have more luck domesticating a donkey, I rub the wrapping she secured around my arm and stand.

"My brother is in trouble. Now's not the time for hesitation- I need to act immediately."

"You don't even know where this castle is," Oslen brings up.

Before I can respond to that, Elle sighs.

"I do, but it's not as simple as telling you the directions. There might be thieves along the way and the castle could be locked."

"You could sketch me a map."

She sighs like my second-grade teacher did when I didn't understand phonics or math (or anything for that matter); sheer pity and resignation.

"Joan, this is dangerous business you're meddling with," She says, placing both hands on my shoulders.

"I understand where you're coming from, but I'm going to do this whether you're with me or not. It would just be easier if you were with me on this."

After several heartbeats of silence, she speaks up with a small, rueful smile.

"You are oddly enough nothing, yet exactly, like your mother."

"As I've been told before."

She sighs once more. "There should be a main road that leads directly to the castle. It is a very straightforward path but you mustn't delve off too early. Oslen will set you on your way from the village but afterwards you will be on your own I'm afraid."

"That's fine. How long do you think it will take me to walk it?"

She's mentally calculating the miles I can tell, meaning it's not going to be a stroll down the road.

"If I can recall correctly, perhaps a day at the most."

"Then I better get going."

"Wait," She hurries over to the kitchen where she rummages around, putting things into a satchel like bag. "You will need provisions while you are on your own."

Finishing up with stuffing the bag full, she hands it off to me.

"Please be safe," She already has a weepy-eyed face- she has such maternal instincts, it's so cute.

"Can't make any promises, but I'll try not to die, how's that?"

Nodding, she takes me by surprise when she hugs me. I'm not a huge hugger but I allow it since she's been so helpful and she's like the personification of warmth. She ushers Oslen and me to the door where she watches us depart from the house, Camus clinging on the end of her fraying apron and Marlowe staring at us with an envious gleam in her eyes watching us go on an adventure.

Am I truly prepared for this? No. Do I care at the moment? Of course not. Should I be worried? Probably. I'm currently still in the reacting phase. As it always plays out with me, I act first, think second. But hey, better than letting the moment pass by, right?