Overhead, the sky lit up again.
I knew that I should have been feeling afraid, but it was over for me. All I could do was pray my eventual demise - whether I was crushed or incinerated - would be as swift and painless as possible.
I let out an angry sob and gripped my knees. I couldn't put any weight on my twisted ankle, so it was pointless to continue fleeing. If I did, I would be too slow. Hiding was my best bet, but as the sound of glass shattering filled the air, I knew that the dragon was already at the school greenhouses.
The courtyard under the clock tower, where I was hiding, was next.
I know that's a dark way to start a story, but that's really where it all started.
I mean, you don't want me to begin with, "There was once a girl called Isolde Greystone and she was so unforgettable and incompetent that no one wanted to be her friend, so when a dragon appeared at school she was hiding in the dormitory instead of eating dinner with the rest of the students, and didn't get the message to evacuate."
See, that's worse isn't it? That's pathetic.
I could continue, actually: "A girl so utterly incompetent she injured herself before a dragon got to her."
Ooh, what about: "A girl whose legacy was founding a club so dumb that the school had decided to disband it after a few months because no one else joined."
The principal probably wouldn't even miss collecting my school fees when I was gone. That's what I was busy thinking while the world I knew crumbled around me.
The sky kept flashing green at intervals while I waited, trembling, on the grass behind the bronze founder's statue. Luminara Academy was in shambles, and this courtyard was the final frontier before the dragon would inevitably make it into town.
Like I said though, I wasn't trembling because I was afraid. I was trembling because I was angry. Angry at the dragon, angry at my classmates, angry at my parents, angry at the school, the town, the country, the world.
I had never been so enraged in my life, and instead of being able to throw a tantrum, I was stuck with a bruised ankle behind a statue in arguably the most open area of the school while a freaking dragon was rampaging nearby.
I had to be quiet. I couldn't draw any attention to myself, and bit down on my fist so hard that I tasted the metallic tang of blood.
Thud, thud, thud.
It was getting closer. There were subtle vibrations in the ground - not enough to shake it, but enough to make you feel nauseous.
I swallowed.
The next thing I knew, everything was green. A stream of emerald flames erupted over my head and lit up my surroundings like fireworks. It was blinding, so I instinctively covered my eyes.
When the roaring sound of the dragon breathing ceased, I reluctantly glanced up. The bronze statue of the founder, stood proudly in the center of the courtyard, had begun to slump and melt away.
Yeah, dragon's breath is hot.
The thudding was louder now. I had only glimpsed its tail when it had torn through the girl's dormitory, but I knew that if I turned now, I would see the dragon in all it's horrific glory.
Mr. Killwater had said that of all the dragons, black dragons were the vilest, and easily the most unreasonable.
"They are borne from hell itself," he would say, in his droning voice.
His lectures so often put me to sleep - it didn't help that his classroom was uncomfortably warm on account of its windows facing the sun. Fortunately or unfortunately - I wasn't sure - I had been wide awake for that particular lecture.
"They emit fire that glows emerald green. They often rampage in response to the smallest slight. If they feel that a human settlement encroaches too close to their nest - even if that human settlement was there first - they will instinctively attack it. You see, humans are the greatest threat to these long-lived creatures, regardless of the size difference, because we have hunted them for centuries. They have thus decided to be the greatest threat to us."
I gripped the grass and tugged at it angrily.
"Of course it's doubtful anyone here will even actually encounter a true black dragon," Mr. Killwater had said with a droning laugh.
Really?
I was about to be killed by one!
Even though I was bad at talking to people, and practically whispered when I was called on in class, this was my last act on earth.
Sixteen years. It hadn't been the best sixteen years, admittedly.
The bronze statue had melted into a puddle that began to solidify around the pedestal. It was too late however. The pedestal was low enough that I was visible behind it.
So, defiantly, I crawled forward and turned my body so that I was facing death head on.
That was when I saw a black dragon in the flesh for the first, and probably last time, in my life.
The hulking beast was a mass of muscle. An elongated neck twisted out from the centre of that mass, and a lupine face with green eyes that illuminated the night leered down at me. It was the size of a house, but oddly, had the grace of a bird. I swallowed.
The head swayed on its serpentine neck, watching me for a few moments, gauging whether or not I was threat. And that was when it made its decision.
What happened next was not a choice I made consciously.
You see, all magicians have a store of power. It can be expelled all at once, or in increments, but the size of that store differs from person to person. It is sometimes more malleable if a particular element is called on, but all magicians know their limits. I, at that point, did not truly know mine.
The dragon huffed in irritation, clouds of smoke forming at its nostrils, and then unhinged it's jaw. Threads of green light were drawn to the centre, and formed a ball that I knew was intended to strike me down.
So I retaliated.
I drew from a store I did not know the limits of. I felt my entire body stiffen, like it was already in its death throes.
I wouldn't go down without a fight. And I truly thought it was a fruitless fight, at that.
Before the dragon could finish gathering up its own mana, I struck.
And... I missed dramatically. Marred by pain, my sense of direction hadn't been the greatest, and it struck the clock tower in the middle rather than the dragon at its heart.
The disappointment I felt as sparks flew from the neck of the clock tower was immeasurable, but I had tried. I had tried, and I had failed.
The world was beginning to sink. When magicians overexert themselves, they tend to drop asleep, and that was what was happening to me. I had my chance, I had taken it, and I had failed. I was glad at least that while unconscious I wouldn't feel the pain of death.
I heard the tower crumbling.
Great, I thought. And my family are going to have to pay for the repairs.
The dragon roared in agony.
The clock tower, I would later discover, had landed on its neck.
---
"The black dragon is confirmed dead!" someone was calling.
"This girl is the cause - I saw it with my own two eyes."
"Who is she?"
"A first year student, I believe - the founder of the Magical Cartography club."
Someone was lifting my head. The surface it landed on was surprisingly warm and my eyelashes fluttered, although I couldn't muster up the stretch to open my eyes.
I was being carried from the wreckage, and I had survived.
I didn't even understand what that meant, I was so tired. Instead I allowed myself to be taken from the wretched courtyard, clasped in the arms of some unknown figure.
Actually, I supposed, that was dangerous in itself. Surviving a dragon just to be kidnapped... Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.
The figure walking with determination, with me in his arms, was none other than Alaric Silverhart - the president of the student council.
Of course it would be him. He was the leading figure in every school event, and how was this not an event? He seemed more tired than usual; his gold eyes lacking their usual luster, and his dark hair shimmering with the dust of crumbled stone.
"She needs urgent medical care," he told someone coolly.
"I bet," the person responded, impressed. "She just single-handedly defeated a black dragon."