"I was not expecting a book," I muttered dryly as I reached into the shattered box. "Why not gold and diamond jewels, hmm? That would've been more considerate."
I pulled it out carefully — a book unlike anything I'd ever seen. Its cover was dark, almost black, with a sheen that reminded me of forged iron. It looked less like a book and more like it was wearing armor. At the top left corner, a tiny dragon was carved into the surface, its mouth parted in a silent snarl. I ran my fingers over it, feeling the cold ridges beneath my skin.
Curious, I tried to open it. But the cover wouldn't budge. I braced it against the table, even used both hands, straining until my arms trembled — but it didn't give at all.
"Why is it so heavy?" I groaned, letting the book thud onto the table. "It's not like I don't have any strength…"
Then a strange, deep voice rumbled behind me, heavy and ancient, almost as if some demon was speaking straight into my bones.
"You lack strength."
I froze. The hairs on my neck stood up. Slowly, I turned around.
And blinked.
Wait… is that…
Sitting there on my bedroom floor was a small dragon — pure white, with a long elegant tail and tiny, perfectly formed claws. Its eyes were crimson red, glowing faintly even in the dim light.
My heart skipped. It was absurdly beautiful.
"…Wait. A baby dragon?" I whispered, dropping to a crouch to get closer.
The little creature narrowed its eyes at me with regal disdain.
"Not a baby dragon—"
WHACK.
It smacked me right across the face with its foot.
"Hey— you little menace!" I grabbed its tiny leg in my hand, laughing as I lifted it upside down. It wriggled furiously, wings flapping, tail whipping around as it tried to claw its way free.
"You're definitely a baby," I teased.
"NO I AM NOT—"
A tiny puff of fire blasted from its mouth, singeing the air so close to my cheek that heat washed over my skin. With a startled laugh, I dropped its foot, stepping back just in time.
"Whoa— are you mad?! You almost burned my face off!"
The dragon crashed onto the floor with an undignified squeak, landing right on its nose. I couldn't help it — I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach as it sat there stunned, tail twitching with outrage
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My heart jumped. Footsteps.
"It must be Grandpa—go hide yourself!" I hissed at the little dragon, shooing him frantically.
I raced to the door, trying to school my face into calmness.
Grandpa stood there, holding out a small basket. "These are strawberries I picked from the field today. Thought you might like them."
"Oh, that's good—I'll have some," I said, forcing a crooked smile, doing everything in my power not to look like I was hiding a creature straight out of a legend behind my leg.
But Grandpa didn't move. His hand still gripped the door, his eyes studying me too intently.
"Is anyone with you?" he asked slowly.
My throat went dry. "No—no, no one at all."
Just then, I felt something brush against my leg—a small, warm body pressing close. My eyes widened in horror. With an awkward cough, I gave a discreet kick, sending the little dragon rolling under the bed just before Grandpa's eyes dropped low.
He seemed satisfied, or maybe simply uninterested. "Alright then. Good night."
"Good night," I croaked, shutting the door with my pulse hammering in my ears. I leaned against it for a second, trying to catch my breath.
A moment later, the dragon waddled out from under the bed, looking absolutely adorable as he stumbled over his own feet, flopping face-first into the rug.
"If you can't even walk, why don't you fly?" I chuckled, shaking my head.
He blinked up at me—then as if struck by the most obvious realization in the world, spread his tiny wings and fluttered into the air. With a little huff, he settled right on my shoulder, curling his tail lightly around my neck.
Up close, I couldn't help noticing just how beautiful his eyes were—deep crimson, with tiny golden flecks dancing inside. I reached up, scratching his head. "Your eyes are incredible."
"Don't eat."
The words didn't come from his mouth. They simply… bloomed inside my mind, deep and resonant. I jerked back a little.
"Don't eat what? The strawberries?" I asked, glancing at the basket.
He nodded gravely.
"That person isn't your grandfather. Your real grandpa is asleep. The one you just spoke to is a demon, wearing a disguise from the shadow realm—that's why you couldn't sense any wrongness. Their magic is made to blend in perfectly."
Cold realization flooded through me. It's two in the morning. Why would Grandpa come to my room this late just to bring strawberries?
My hands started to tremble. I moved to the window, peeking out through the thin curtain, half-expecting to see monstrous shapes slithering through the dark.
"How… how do you know all this?" I whispered.
The dragon flew off my shoulder, circling above my head like a watchful little moon.
"I am the guardian of the Book of the Dragon Realm—THE DEN. I know everything about your blood, your burdens, your power. We need to leave. Now. Find somewhere safe."
I blinked, mind racing. That dragon I'd touched carved into the book's corner—he was gone. I never even saw him crawl out.
He was right. Every instinct in me screamed that. But my heart twisted painfully.
"What about my Grandpa? I can't leave him here alone, not in this mess…" I paced from the mirror to the door and back again, hands tangled in my hair. Memories of betrayal by Priest and Nara cut through me like glass. They abandoned me because I was too weak. You will too. Everyone does eventually.
I sank onto the bed, hugging a pillow to my chest. "You'll leave me too, once you see I can't even heal properly… once you see what a disappointment I am."
The little dragon fluttered down and settled right on my chest, folding his tail neatly around his feet, peering at me with a soft, almost sad look.
"They didn't abandon you. They must have had reasons. But that doesn't mean your journey stops here. You are meant to become our Lord again, to heal our realm. You don't even know how shattered it is—some of our kind hide themselves in distant dimensions, some have given up their scales to become demons, just to feed their children. Others have chosen to die in pride rather than live enslaved."
His voice inside me was gentle, yet heavy with sorrow.
A tear slipped down my cheek. He was right. I needed to stop being Xavier—the frightened boy hiding from his destiny—and start becoming Typhon again.
I reached up and stroked his tiny head. "Alright… but I can't just leave Grandpa here unprotected."
"They aren't allowed to harm humans without cause. He will be safe. Come on. Let's go."
He fluttered up, circling me once more like a little guardian star.
And this time, I stood up with him, feeling that fragile spark inside me—duty, guilt, and something like hope—ignite again.