Prologue

My parents and I set out on one of our cross-country treks. My three-year-old self assumes that this is something that they have done every year, but I am uncertain of that now. It was getting dark and I was very sleepy. I don't even remember my mother taking me out of my car seat. What I do remember is her singing about a princess who was brave and strong. She sang of a mythical land of magic and fairy tales. My father would hum along too. I felt so safe with them, but isn't that how a child is supposed to feel?

Anyway, as I was dozing in my mother's embrace I remember hearing growling and a loud roar. But when I opened my eyes, I only saw blackness. I felt eerily cold, too. So, so cold. It was a damp coldness that seeps into your soul, freezing it. I remember rubbing my arms and that's when my sight fully returned.

I looked down, only to notice that I was rubbing blood on my arms. I felt so scared as I stared at my red, trembling hands. I sensed something, so I turned my head from side to side, but discovered that I was alone. Alone in the dark woods in the dead of the night. Then I heard a group of unfamiliar voices. A tall, burly man cautiously approached me as if he feared me. I was a three-year-old little girl alone in the woods covered in blood. What is there to fear?

He showed me a badge that had an odd symbol on it, and he said that he was a guard. He had one of the other guards remove their cape, which smelled like cedar and singed fur, to wrap me in it. I felt like a burrito, but I still wondered where my parents were. Since then, I have bolted awake every time, too. Essentially, every night it was the same dream until I was six, and then the dream extended itself. I am not sure if it is true or just my imagination trying to cope with my parents' deaths.

Nonetheless, in the extended dream, the guard took me to an orphanage where they eventually told me that my parents had been killed by dragons. That moment was when I learned that humans weren't alone in this world. But, at the time, I didn't believe in dragons, so I convinced my childhood self that they were murdered by evil people, until I saw one for myself, in that very same forest, too. So I learned to believe in dragons, but I am still unsure if they had anything to do with the death of my parents. Since then, I have tried to avoid the forest and dragons, but one day I found myself without such a choice. Looking back, it all makes sense, but living it was an entirely different story...