The Dragon of Whisperwind Peaks
A young woman is chosen by her village to make a sacrificial offering to a fearsome dragon, but she discovers the beast is not what it seems.
The village of Whisperwind lived in the shadow of the peaks, and in the shadow of the dragon. Every fifty years, a tribute was required: a portion of the harvest and a single soul, chosen by lottery, to deliver it. This year, my name was drawn. Fear was a cold stone in my stomach as I made the treacherous climb to the dragon's lair.
The legends spoke of a terrifying beast with scales of obsidian and eyes of fire. I expected a monster. What I found was something else entirely. The dragon was ancient, its scales the color of faded emeralds, its eyes wise and weary. It didn't roar; it spoke, its voice a low rumble that resonated in my chest. It had no interest in our harvest or in me.
The dragon was a guardian, bound by an ancient magic to protect a hidden spring of pure, life-giving water within the mountain. The 'tribute' was a misunderstanding, a ritual born of fear that had been twisted over centuries. The dragon was lonely, the last of its kind, and the villagers' fear had only deepened its isolation. I spent a week in its cave, listening to its stories of a world long gone. When I returned to the village, I brought back not a tale of terror, but one of truth, of a noble creature and a friendship that would bridge the gap between myth and reality.