By: C.J. Riley | Flash Fiction Series

The Dragon wasn’t the Monster; it didn’t even roar as the hero drew close.

It sighed, smoke curling from its nostrils like it had been waiting an eternity.

“You’re late,” said the dragon.

The hero stumbled to a halt, sword half-raised, his rehearsed bravery draining away. The cavern brimmed with bones – old, clean, respectfully arranged, like a polite warning.

“I’m here to kill you, vile beast!” the hero announced, excited to recite the line he rehearsed on the way to the cave.

“Yes,” the dragon replied in a board tone. “They always are.”

It shifted, gold clinking softly beneath its bulk. One enormous eye opened fully, appraising him like a butcher eyeing a subpar cut.

“They said you burned the valley,” the hero pressed. “Demanded tribute and took children!”

The dragon blinked and replied with a sarcastic tone. “Did you happen to see any scorched fields on your way up?”

The hero faltered. He recalled green crops, fresh roofs, a town that smiled too readily and locked doors too soon.

“They said you devour heroes,” the hero’s voice trembled with a bit of fear.

“I do,” the dragon admitted. “But only after they refuse to see the truth. Makes it easier to take that first bite.”

The hero gripped his sword tighter. “You’re trying to trick me.”

The dragon laughed – not loudly, but wearily.

“You came with a blessed blade, a borrowed horse, and an unexamined story,” the dragon said. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be ash.” 

The dragon flicked its tail, making the air shimmer. Magic rippled across the cavern like a veil torn away. The hero’s thoughts spun: faces realigned, the mayor’s hand lingering on a hidden shrine beneath the church, prayers whispered to something that answered, previous heroes toasted as martyrs before their bodies cooled.

“They send one of you every few years,” the dragon said gently. “You die loudly. I take the blame. The town keeps its secrets.”

The hero lowered his sword. “Then why tell me?” he asked.

The dragon’s grin was wide, sharp, and faintly sad. “Because I didn’t invite you here for either of us to die.”

The ground trembled as the dragon rose, wings unfurling with the rumble of awakening storms. “I invited you because someone needs to walk back down that mountain,” it said, “and you looked stubborn enough to survive the truth.”

Far below, the town’s bells began to ring – celebratory and expectant.

The hero turned toward the light of colors exploding in the sky and cheers echoing from the town.

Behind him, the dragon stretched, smiling at the hero, who might be the one to break the cycle.