Page 1 of Castor

Prologue

Castor

Many Years Ago

“Close your eyes, little flame,” my mother said, smoothing her hand over my hair. “Morning comes early.”

“When will Father return?” I grabbed a lock of her long brown hair and wound it around my finger. The hour was late, yet I wasn’t tired.

She tucked the quilt in around me and smiled. There was something sad about it. “Your father cares deeply for you. He’ll visit when he can.”

He had been away for months. Whenever he came home, he only stayed for a few weeks before leaving again. He was a general to a king. A warrior.

“I miss him.”

“I do as well.” Mother caressed my cheek. “Shall I tell you a story to help you sleep?”

I nodded. “The one about the dragon and his gold.”

“That one is your favorite.” She poked the tip of my nose, and I smiled. “Long ago, before you or I were born, there lived a great, mighty dragon. People worshipped him like a god and brought him gifts in exchange for his protection.”

“I like gifts.”

“I know you do.”

She continued the story, telling me about the dragon and his hoard of riches and gold. One day while he was hunting for his dinner, he came across a wounded man in the forest. The young man was from a neighboring village who had been attacked by a boar.

“Did the dragon kill the man?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Mother shook her head. “No. He did not. He saved him instead. The dragon carried him back to his mountain and treated his injuries. A week passed, then two, while the man healed. A friendship formed between them.”

“The man befriended the dragon?”

“Indeed. Once the man was strong enough, he thanked the dragon and told him he was in his debt.”

“What happened next?”

“Well, years later, a king from a warring nation heard of the dragon in the mountain and commanded an army to march on the village. The king wanted the riches for himself, as well as the head of the dragon. Killing such a creature would show his strength, and enemies far and wide would fear him for it.”

“But the king didn’t kill him,” I said.

“The man the dragon healed all those years ago had grown into a fine soldier and was in the king’s army. He rushed to the mountain just in time to see the dragon weakened and near death. He jumped in the way before the king dealt the final blow, sacrificing himself. The distraction allowed the dragon to defeat the king and chase away the army.”

“What did the dragon do then?”

“He wept for the man who died in his place.” She glided her fingers through my hair. It always helped me fall asleep. “The man had become dear to him during the time they spent together years before. For his sacrifice, the dragon transformed the soldier into a sword of gold. Legend has it that the sword can still be found in the mountain, forever by the dragon’s side.”

“I want a golden sword,” I said, excited by the thought. “So that I may protect people. Like Father does.”

Mother’s smile turned sad. “Sleep, little flame.”

My eyes closed but opened again once she’d left the room. A small fire crackled in the hearth, and I stared at the flames scorching the logs. We lived a comfortable life in the hills of Athens. I never went hungry, I had a warm bed to sleep in, and my toys overflowed on the nearby shelves. Yet, I always wanted more.

Like the dragon with his piles of gold.

A flapping of wings sounded from outside. I jumped out of bed and ran over to the terrace doors, throwing them open. I saw nothing at first, only darkness, but then moonlight reflected off midnight-black feathers and bright red hair.

“Father!”