"Why didn't he just tell her how he felt?" Michael's brow furrowed in confusion as he stared intently at the woman beside him, patiently waiting for her response. 

Ever since he was a child, he had always loved listening to others tell stories, whether they be real or fake. The genre mattered little to him because nothing could beat observing someone as they recounted a tale. Far better than just reading words upon a page, in his opinion.

Penelope smiled, but it was full of bitterness. "Fear, I imagine. Fear makes people do outrageous things, most of which we often come to regret. It is oftentimes easier to accept what we view as fact, rather than fight against our fears in the hopes that we're wrong."

The words, he knew, were true and that made him frown. Growing up, he had always been the type to jump head-first and deal with the consequences, if any, after the fact. He had been the only one in his friend group to think this way, however. The other kids were always too afraid of what might befall them and that, to them, greater outweighed the possibility of adventure. With that said, he had also experienced the opposite side of the coin – the regret and the consequence.

This came to him rather harshly when he was a teenager. A beragon had been spotted not far from his village and the citizens had been warned to stay inside lest they draw its ire toward them, but Michael had felt excitement rushing through him like an electric current at the news. He had always been fascinated by the fearsome creatures ever since his grandfather had recounted a tale in which he had slain one – a fact that very few can claim.

Since hearing this tale, he had studied up on them to the best of his ability, hoping to one day observe one up close. Now he saw his chance to do just that. Only, his grandfather knew how the young boy's mind worked and he forbade his grandson from leaving the house. He even went so far as to threaten him by refusing to make him any more cheese for a month which, in Michael's opinion, was just blasphemous.

Reluctantly, he agreed to stay inside and he truly did mean it – he had every intention of honoring his promise to his grandfather. He even went to bed early so as not to give in to his gnawing curiosities, but it seemed as if the world had different plans for him that night.

━━━━━━༻9 Years Earlier༺━━━━━━

The moon was full, casting an eerie glow upon the village through breaks in the thin, grey clouds. A strange sound broke through the silent night, jolting him from his peaceful dreams of going on adventures and binge eating cheese. At first, he wasn't sure what had woken him and he wondered if he had gone too far trying to woo the pretty girl within his dreams. Had she slapped him into consciousness? The thought amused him, but it didn't last long.

The same sound pierced through the air once more, much louder than the first. He squinted at the darkness in his room, trying to wrap his head around the noise. It was familiar to him, yet unlike anything he had ever heard before – some strange mix of a wolf's howl, the roar of a bear, and the scraping of metal. And then he suddenly remembered – the beragon.

Michael shot up from his bed so quickly that his foot got caught up in the sheets, bringing him to his hands and knees on the bed, but he recovered just as quickly. His fingers gripped the window sill above the bed and he slowly pulled himself up to peer out into the darkness. 

The village was dead silent, most of the citizens asleep in their warm beds, others too afraid to find any rest but locked within their homes nonetheless. It was obvious from the noise outside that the beragon had moved closer to the village.

Would it attack? The thought made his stomach churn.

'Someone should lure it away from the village,' he thought, chewing on his bottom lip. The village had no fighters among them, though. Most were too old or too young, the rest cowards, too afraid of their own shadow. 'In that case, I must be the one!'

Fear is not what filled him at that thought. No, he felt excited by the idea, elated even. He sprinted for the bedroom door but he stopped himself short, eyes narrowing at the wood beneath him. There would be no adventure if his grandfather caught him before he could even get out of the house. As excited as he felt, he knew he would have to be cautious to escape the house undetected.

His toes wiggled in thought and he glanced down with a grin. 'I might need some shoes, too!'

After changing into more appropriate clothing and gathering a few things he deemed essential for the trip, Michael pressed his ear to the door and listened. It felt as if an age passed him by as he stood there, still as a statue and silent as the grave until, finally, he heard a soft snore coming from down the hall. With a silent cheer, he reached for the doorknob only to pause again.

The hinges on the door were old and rusted, often producing such a loud wail that he was sure the next village over could hear it. Taking a breath to steel his nerves, he yanked the door open, eyes clamped tightly in anticipation, but no sound emanated from the hinges and the cabin remained quiet. With a grin, he did a little jig where he stood before putting on his game face.

The next part was easy – he just needed to avoid the two creaky floorboards and reach the front door. It also had rusted hinges and tended to make a sound that could wake the dead, so he decided to slip through the window instead. He squinted at the darkness of the front room and, seeing no movement, he speed-walked over to the window. It was taller than him, the sill at level with his nose.

Pushed up against the wall to the left of the window was a small wooden table that held his grandfather's favorite books. It was wobbly and unstable, but Michael knew it was his best bet so he carefully removed the books, setting them slowly onto the floor. 

Despite being small, the table was quite heavy and scraped across the floor when he tugged at it. And tug at it, he did, using all of his strength as he dug his heels into the floor, ground his teeth, and threw his head back from the effort.

Several tense minutes passed before he finally had it where he needed it to be. Releasing a puff of air, he carefully pulled himself on top of it, arms held out to steady himself as it wobbled back and forth under his weight. He made a mental note to try and fix the table at a later date since such an unstable item was unsafe for his grandfather.

He released the latch on the window and slowly pushed the glass pane upward. The cool night air hit him in the face, carrying with it the scent of something strange. He had never before smelled such a thing, that he was sure of, and he had no clue as to what it might be, but one word presented itself within his brain.

"Magic," he muttered softly to himself.

For a moment, he just sat there, his dark brown hair swaying against his forehead from the breeze. He felt more content at that moment than he could ever remember feeling before and he was tempted to just spend the night there when a fresh wave of excitement crashed over him, coursing through his veins like fire. He slipped his body through the window, his feet kicking up dirt when he landed on the ground below.

Without another thought, he took off running toward the direction of Fangern Forest. 

The night was eerily quiet, the usually talkative animals mute and hiding. Even the leaves swaying in the breeze made no sound as if they were scared to do so. Every twig snapping beneath his feet seemed to echo, amplified to the point that he was sure the village could hear it.

Even so, he pressed on, trying to avoid them to the best of his ability. This proved difficult given the fact that it was mid-Autumn, the ground covered with broken branches and leaves in an array of orange and brown.

He seemed to walk on for ages yet he felt as if he had made little progress. The light of the moon was fading the farther he trekked through the forest, unable to pierce the dense foliage above him. That was a sign that he had gotten far enough away from the village where he could not be seen.

He removed the burlap sack from his back, setting it against the base of a tree so he could pull out his lantern and light it. The pale orange glow flickered behind the glass, casting shadows against the trees like dancing children. Somehow, it seemed even eerier with the light than without.

A brief moment of clarity overcame him as he replaced the sack onto his back, securing it with two thin ropes, one over each shoulder. This was a dangerous, unknown territory to him. He had entered the forest many times during his childhood with his grandfather, but they had never ventured this far inside and never when the sun was not in the sky.

'Grandfather...' He recalled the tale that the older man had recited to him a dozen or so times as he was growing up, how he had been fishing in the forest when a beragon snuck up behind him and, with a single beat of its mighty wings, sent the older man flying into the creek. 

Despite being terrified, grandpa Jim had stood his ground and used his wit to overcome the beast. He managed to trick the creature into falling in the creek because, he claimed, water is a beragon's greatest weakness.

Revisiting the tale filled Michael with pride. He had always admired his grandfather and wanted to be just like him when he became an adult. More importantly, he wanted to experience his own adventure, his own tale to one day recall to his grandkids. Consequence be damned, he wasn't going to give up this chance for anything.

A roar suddenly rang out, so loud that it shook the trees around him,  goosebumps rising up across his skin. It was close, very close. His heart thumped quickly against his rib cage as he started toward the fearsome sound. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he approached a clearing. The sky was not obstructed by any trees within this clearing, allowing the pale moonlight to shine down upon it.

Michael quickly blew out the lantern, crouching down inside of a bush to keep himself hidden while getting a better look at the small mess of fur and scales. He frowned, 'Is that is? It's no bigger than Mrs. Marma's cow!' He scooted closer to the edge of the bush, a twig snapping beneath his knee.

The creature started, its fur ruffling as it uncurled itself from the ball it had been lying in, slowly bringing its body off the ground. Fear struck his heart as it stood to its full height, nearly reaching the top of the tree line. This creature looked as if someone had taken a cave bear and a dragon only to smash them together. Its head and torso were that of a bear save for the large fangs protruding from its mouth and the thick claws sticking out between the toes of its front paws.

The bottom half of its body was covered in thick scales the color of emeralds, a long, thick tail kicking up dirt every time it moved. The claws on its back legs were longer than the front, digging into the earth. Wings bigger than its body unfurled from its back, towering high above its head. Cat-like yellow eyes seemed to glow under the moonlight as they scanned the clearing for the source of the sound.

Michael swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed there. He slapped his hand over his mouth and nose when the creature's eyes stopped on the bush, almost as if it were staring straight into his soul. Lowering itself onto all fours, the beragon slowly started toward him, its gaze never wavering. 

Everything within him was screaming for him to run away but he was frozen to the spot, his limbs numb with fear.

The beast finally closed the distance, reaching the bush and lowering its head to be level with it. Thick black smoke shot from its nostrils when it exhaled sharply, filling Michael's lungs and causing him to start hacking. It suddenly roared, so loud that he feared his eardrums would burst. Lifting its front paw above its head, he barely caught the glinting of its claw before it came swiping through the air toward him.

With a yelp, he threw himself from the bush just seconds before the paw slammed into the earth, flattening the bush with ease and shattering the lantern he had left behind. Adrenaline flooded his system as he scrambled away as quickly as he could, stumbling when he tried to pull himself to his feet. 

The farther he ran from the clearing, the darker it grew but he could hear the beast chasing after him, the ground trembling beneath its weight and the forest shaking as its large body slammed against the trees in its effort to weave through them.

"Michael!" cried a faint voice far in the distance, bringing the creature to a sliding halt, its head held high and its pointed ears alert.

Michael ducked behind a thick tree to his left, back pressing into the bark until it hurt. His breathing was erratic, chest heaving up and down almost to the point of hyperventilating.

"Michael!" the voice called again, closer this time, filled with panic and worry. He recognized the voice, it was familiar to him but with his brain still in panic mode, he just couldn't match the voice with a face. "Where are you, boy?!"

The beragon snorted softly, black smoke billowing from its nostrils as it lowered its massive body to the ground, crouched and ready to strike as soon as the opportunity was ripe. He could feel it clearly, the beast's intent to kill. It was paralyzing.

A branch snapped to his far left, bushes rustling as a dim light broke through the darkness. From his hiding spot, he could see the bushes parting and his eyes widened as his grandfather stepped out from the crack in the bushes, his grey eyes meeting Michael's. The boy's lips parted, his bottom lip trembling as tears filled his eyes.

Jim's face filled with relief when he saw his grandson, alive and seemingly unharmed. The fear in his eyes alarmed the older man and he took a step forward, feeling the cloth of his pants being caught on the sharp branches. Movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye and his gaze snapped over just as the beragon leaped into the air, heading straight for him with its claws and fangs bared.