After the loss of her mother, Elara discovers her true birthright It was all a blur. The tears, the confusion, the stupid sympathetic but awkward “What do I do now?” looks on the doctors’ faces as they watched my face drop, and the tears start spilling out. I couldn’t even cry anymore, the truth had burrowed into my brain and now just sat there. No emotions, no thoughts, just “Oh. I guess that happened.” How was I supposed to sleep now? I stared at the ceiling. I was awake. Not from sadness, but from utter boredom. I covered my head with my pillow as the baby started another crying fit. Her cries echoed through my head. Haunting me. The new baby was the whole reason this had happened, and yet now she was in bed with my dad, crying about some dumb thing like being hungry, or being tired or needing a diaper change. She didn’t understand the pain, and probably never would. The baby cried for the millionth time since she was born. Which was yesterday. I needed a break. “Dad, I’m going outside” I said drowsily, putting my shoes on. He rushed out to stop me. “Wait. You need to read this first. I already did. It’s from your mother,” he mumbled. I almost couldn’t tell his wife had died yesterday. Almost. He still stuttered over the word mother, and looked at the ground as he said it. Making the words barely audible. I stared at him questioningly and pulled the letter out of the envelope. Seeing the curvy handwriting of my mother almost made me break down in tears. This was probably the last letter my mother had ever written. Somehow, I held in the tears, saving them in my mental bucket. When it overflowed, there would be no way to stop the sobs and they would cascade down my face in waterfalls for hours. I read the letter:   Dear Elara (and Nick), I really don’t want to have to do this, but after I die, you can no longer go into the forest. I’m so sorry, love. I know the forest means everything to you, and I don’t want to have to take it away from you, but it is simply too dangerous and unpredictable now that I’m gone. Please forgive me. —Mom   I stared at my dad in disbelief. “What? No, you can’t. I—I have to go there!” I shouted. My dad looked at the ground and mumbled some more. “Elara, I think it’s better if you stay inside right now.” After a few awkward seconds I reluctantly followed him upstairs. Just then the baby started another crying fit, and Dad rushed to shut her up. I sat on the couch and stared blankly at the wall. The forest was the only part I had left of my mother, and now I didn’t even have that. I felt like sobbing, ripping my hair out, screaming all over again. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t know how anyone could. I was alone. So alone. I had nobody to talk to, nobody to play with, nobody to pass the time with. All I could do was sit and stare at the wall watching the time pass as the baby cried again. And again. And again. I was just a blob. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. I could barely walk. The sky was starting to darken. I sighed; I had been staring at the wall for hours. I would never have done that if Mom was still here. Slowly, I stood up and stumbled to bed. *          *          * I woke up the next morning. Despite my sadness and hopelessness the night before, I felt confident and happy. But I hid my smile and stumbled sleepily out into the kitchen. “Good morning, Ela,” Dad mumbled, the circles under his eyes telling me exactly how his night went. “Morning.” I smiled, forgetting that I was supposed to be sad. Dad didn’t smile back, though the slightest hint of amusement hit his face. “Someone slept well,” he decided. His voice held a slightly painful tinge of bitterness and jealousy. “Sorry, Dad,” I muttered under my breath, and then I waited. I had already put on socks and my favorite sweater over my pajama shirt. As soon as the baby started crying, I went for it. I couldn’t help myself from smiling guiltily and mischievously as I slipped my shoes on and begged silently for the door not to creak. Creaaaaaakkk. I grimaced but opened the door quickly and slipped outside. *          *          * I breathed in the fresh air of the meadow and brushed my hand against the long grass beside me. I watched the forest grow closer as I walked, and my heart beat faster as its tall evergreen trees towered over me. I sighed. This was it. I was about to see my mother again, or at least partially. “Elara!” a voice called from behind me. I turned, my smile fading when I saw who it was. “Get back inside. Now,” my dad yelled. The baby, for once, was not crying. Instead, she lay over my dad’s shoulder, drooling on the spit up-covered cloth. I blushed guiltily and followed him inside. “Elara, this is unacceptable. I can’t have you running off whenever I am in the other room looking after your sister.” I cringed. “I have no choice but to ground you.” I stared at him. “What?” I said in disbelief. “But—you—why!?” My dad didn’t reply; he just went into the kitchen to feed the baby. “Well no wonder I tried to leave. You’ve only talked to me twice since it happened; both times it was about the stupid rule that mom made,” I muttered. Dad didn’t seem to hear me. Instead, he decided to tell me about the third-worst thing I would ever experience in my life. Coincidently,

An elf girl tries to stop a dragon attack on her kingdom “What should we do about these attacks?” the knight said to his co-worker. “I don’t know . . . They’ve only happened in the outskirts of the kingdom so far. Not a lot of people have been hurt yet . . .” The other knight responded. “Nevertheless, those dragons have to be stopped.” Laiomi, who had been so entranced in the conversation that she had leaned out from her hiding spot behind one of the palace gates, quickly snapped back to behind the gate so she wouldn’t be seen. The knights wouldn’t want a fifteen-year-old elf girl listening in on their conversation. The sun was starting to set, and Laiomi figured she should get home (although, she would have liked to snoop on the knights some more). Sighing, she started down the cobblestone path leading away from the palace. “Dragons . . . Dragons . . . I wonder if they’re going to attack Ailiniae,” Laoimi muttered to herself. Ailiniae was the kingdom Laiomi lived in. It was beautiful, with tons of nature, and ornately carved buildings around every corner. But Laiomi didn’t live in one of these buildings; she lived in a small cottage with her mother and sister. As she was walking along the path, immersed in her own thoughts, she heard a loud rustle coming from the forest. She paused, and looked into the thick foliage, hoping to see the creature that had made the noise. Instead, she saw a large, looming black shadow stretching across the forest floor. Could it be the shadow of . . . a dragon? Laiomi rubbed her eyes. There couldn’t possibly be a dragon in the forest. She saw the warm glow of her cottage and quickly hurried to it. She opened the door, and inside were her mother’s and sister’s welcoming faces. “You were gone so late we were getting worried,” her mother said. “What in the world were you doing?” “Spying on the knights,” Laiomi said. Laiomi’s sister, whose name was Elinor and who was only ten years old, giggled with delight. “Oooh, what did they say?” she asked. She felt her feet moving, walking out of the small cottage and into the stillness of the night. “They said that the dragon attacks are getting worse, and that they might attack the kingdom.” “Oh . . . well . . . maybe the Dragon Charmer will come and save us!” Elinor suggested. Legend had it that if dragons were attacking the kingdom of Ailiniae, a brave young man with the power to charm dragons would come and stop them. “Maybe, dear,” said her mother, although she looked rather worried. Laiomi sighed. If dragons did attack, their only chance of survival would be the Dragon Charmer coming, however small that chance might be. Suddenly a sly smile spread across Elinor’s face. Laiomi followed her eyes up to the battered clock that hung on the wall. “Why Elinor, you little rascal! It’s way past your bedtime!” Laughing, her mother said, “Go to bed, Elinor! You need to get enough sleep.” Elinor giggled and jumped onto her small bed. A few hours later, both Laiomi’s sister and mother were fast asleep. Laiomi gazed out of the open window, from which a cool breeze was making its way into the house. Laiomi closed her eyes, enjoying the quiet sensation. But this only lasted for a few seconds; a ferocious roar split through the air. Laiomi’s family didn’t wake up, for they were still very deep in sleep. But the roar still rang through her ears, and it felt as though some invisible force was trying to get her to find the noise’s creator. She felt her feet moving, walking out of the small cottage and into the stillness of the night. Her thoughts became rather muddled and dazed. Although she didn’t know where this invisible force was taking her, she knew that she had some sort of job to do there. That thought pounded in her brain just as her heart pounded in her chest. She had a responsibility. The invisible force had told her that much. She just didn’t know what it was yet . . . Her feet had carried her to the edge of the forest. A sharp pain split through her head, and suddenly her thoughts returned to normal. She let out a small gasp, for she had had no idea what had just happened. Then, out from the dense trees and thickets of bushes came a dragon. It had shimmering red scales, large orange eyes, and a pair of glittering wings. It was around two times as tall as Laiomi. She stumbled backward. Her brain was telling her to run, move, do something, but every inch of her was frozen to the spot. Then, her pair of hazel eyes met the dragon’s orange ones, and something amazing happened. *          *          * It happened slowly. She could feel her soul melding with the dragon’s, as easily as a blacksmith melded gold with silver. And suddenly, she understood. She understood the attacks, and the dragons, and all of it. And she knew that she could help. The dragon had summoned her there. And it had told her something. “All this time,” Laiomi whispered to the dragon. “All this time, it hasn’t been you attacking. It’s been us.” The so-called dragon attacks hadn’t been the dragons attacking the people at all. It had been the people attacking the dragons. Visions of dragons lying injured on the ground flashed through her head. Her stomach twisted with anger and revulsion. “Please tell me,” Laiomi said to the dragon, “how can I help?” *          *          * Minutes later, Laiomi was walking toward the palace, determined and focused. The dragon flew silently beside her. They got to the palace door, which was flanked by two guards.