Keta: The Last Black Dragon

By Val Santini

In a normal late summer night, Keta, an ordinary eighteen-year-old girl, is abruptly ripped away from her life in her village. After surviving a rape, she discovers she possesses a tremendous and destructive power, a power that she cannot control, a power that can either save or destroy the world as we know it. Helped by Edward, a mysterious spearman with dark armour, and his brother Alexander, an herbalist with a strange past, she begins a journey seeking to learn how to control her magical power.

She has no clue that to obtain such control will decide the fate of every single life on earth: to be saved or to suffer the Eternal Darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jun 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398414785

Val Santini

Born in the Holy Capital a long time ago, David grew up with a classical education and a passion for music and Japanese animation/videogames. Great fan of Tolkien, he ended up canalising his creativity on a book (out of the blue), beside the songs he keeps putting online.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Trampled Underfoot

It was almost night. The sun was slowly dying behind the wind-trimmed, western mountains while at the same time, an intense, fragrant thrill was rising in the air. In the upcoming evening, there was going to be a huge celebration in the village: summer was almost over and fall was approaching quicker than usual. Or at least, that was what the old people were saying. It was time to greet the new season.

The village was born a long time ago into an s-shaped valley, engraved by the crystalline waters of the Adi river, which came from the tall, sharp, eastern mountains, quietly running towards the west with the banks adorned by some huge, white rocks every now and then, while the gravel in its bed was grey and smooth, making it shine even brighter than a normal river when the sun was shining on it. On the southern side of the valley, there was a small lake generated by an underground spring, connected to the main river by a creek. On the north side, a canal was used to bring some water to the only small plain around, used to cultivate wine grapes and some vegetables. Any uninhabited area was covered by a thick oak forest; as a matter of fact, the valley was quite renowned for its handmade wooden merchandise and often, experienced vendors came at fall to stock what was going to be needed in the winter, such as fine bowls, cups, cutlery and so on.

Such a village grew slowly in the centre of the valley where the river decided to go straight for a couple of miles: mostly wooden and some red-bricked houses seemed to cuddle each other on each side, arranged more or less into an oval shape, with three bridges connecting the banks: one before the western river’s turn, one in the middle of the village and one right on the eastern turn. As in many other villages, the mayor’s house and the local church were on two different banks; even if the Holy Church was far away in the capital, it had an overwhelming influence all around the world, and even if they had no power by any means of the law, the local secular governments struggled to keep the cities under control. Brainwashing people every Sunday for centuries was bearing its fruits, or so it seemed. Luckily, several years ago, the church decided that it was not worth to park the Soldiers (its militia) in places like that village, recollecting its men from the remotest areas under its control.

There was a small, isolated house with a sloping roof and a brick steeple on the eastern side, made entirely of well-smoothed oak wood, above a small hill surrounded by the forest, connected with the eastern road by a dusty path; coming from such a path, you would have seen first a wooden patio with a rocking chair on the left of the main door, while there was a table and four stools on the right side, with a small pillow with flower decorations on each of them. There were two four-squared windows with dark green curtains. The toilet was on the left side of the house, while behind it was an unused well; it became dry a long time ago. On the right side, beneath the canopy created by the roof, lay some chopped wood, waiting to be burnt in the fireplace.

And there was Sam, a 64-year-old bachelor carpenter, sitting on that rocking chair, wearing his favourite beige pyjamas and fluffy slippers, quietly smoking his pipe, watching the lights of the village turning on one by one. He was in harmony with peace, foretasting the cups of fine wine he would have drunk that night. He had enough money in the bank and he was working a lot, being the best house-builder in the village. Nothing could upset him: he was serenity embodied.

In that precise moment, a loud thud dressed with a well-known scream made him jump on his chair. His pipe fell on the ground, spreading the herbs all over the floor. His heart almost jumped out of his chest the moment that noise reached his ears: he had heard that ‘bang’ other times, but even if he had become kind of familiar with it, every time it was making him jump, scared.

Huff, not again… he mumbled with half his mouth, scratching his forehead.

He slowly stood up and headed back inside: as soon as you entered the house, you would have seen a huge table in the centre with six chairs around it, all above a dark blue, square carpet. A couch and a library on the left side, the fireplace and kitchen on the right and three doors on the side opposite the main door: the one on the left was his room, the middle one was the guest room and the one on the right was the one where the noise was coming from. He opened the door and yes, exactly what he thought it would be. She was lying on the ground face down, having fallen while trying to tie her favourite yellow dress.

Is…ah, are you alright, honey?

Mggmgg!

What?

MGGMGMMMG!

Sorry, can you repeat that?

The girl turned her face towards the door, spitting her long hair out of her mouth, graceful as a sailor after too much wine.

I’ve slipped on my hair… she whined.

The gracefully spitting girl’s name was Keta, an ordinary 18-year-old young lady: athletic, greenish-brown eyes opened wide, a small nose on an oval face, a pair of soft lips that looked really mushy, average height. Round in the right points. But she possessed a bizarre peculiarity: she had very long, blood red hair, which she usually kept tied in a tress due to its abnormal growth, faster than in any human being. They were really, really red, like the oxygen-rich blood running in our arteries. She was not actually blood-related to the ex-Soldier: eighteen years ago, when he was coming back home from a mission, he had run into a wicker basket stranded on the bank of the Adi river, which contained Keta wrapped in a blanket with a handwritten message:

This is Keta, daughter of Sophie. Her mother died giving her to the light. Please, take care of her.

How many times do I have to tell you, honey? Hair first! Hair first!

Sam held Keta’s hair while she was getting up and helped her button her dress.

I wonder if you are like this with Mr Caramarn too, Sam sniggered a little.

Like what?

This goofy.

I’m not goofy! underlined Keta. And working in an herbalist shop requires being precise and sharp, or you break everything!

I know, love, I know: since he hired you, he has never complained once about your work.

See? See? I’m not goofy! she replied, jumping a little on the spot.

Easy, young filly! Sam laughed a little again. Or you’ll break your buttons!

The final touch: a lily near her right ear.

How do I look? asked Keta, twirling on herself.

If the boys have eyes for someone else tonight, damn, they must be blind!

Come on, Grandpa.

You are gorgeous, my dear.

Really? she moaned, blushing.

It’s true!

OK…thanks! See ya later!

Keta headed for the door after kissing her grandfather on the cheek.

That night was going to be an amazingly special one for Keta. Her friend Judith had promised her something almost impossible: going to the very same party attended by Joseph. There was not a single young lady in the village that was not in love with him: a tall, strong, blond-haired blacksmith, deep green eyes and great savoir faire. He was a typical heartbreaker. Judith had never admitted it openly, but Keta suspected that something had already happened between her and the blacksmith.

Often, Keta liked dreaming with her eyes open, imagining things, situations, places. She liked hearing fantasy stories, sitting around a bonfire. She liked to breathe in life. And this time, it was not an exception: on her way to the village, she was dreaming about the night-to-be. Possibly dancing with Joseph. Maybe a kiss? Who knew! She was bursting with joy with every step that she took.

She was quickly walking down the path sided by the forest that connected her house to the eastern road. In a few minutes, she arrived at the main paved road, which was adorned with scraps of black serpentine marble used as milestones. Some carts were heading for the village and she took her chance to ask for a ride up to the eastern entrance. She usually paid her rides by pleasantly chatting away the road: one thing that she was really good at was to entertain her customers, who loved to talk with such a cute, huge-hearted, young girl. It was said that people were getting better not because of the medicines but because of her: everyone knew that if you were in a bad mood, a chat with that girl would make your day.

As usual, once she arrived at the eastern gate, she was in the bakers’ district. On both sides of the road, you could find not only bakers, but millers, honey sellers, a couple of windmills and, above all, an intense smell of good bread and sweets at any time of the day and night: even the dust on the ground seemed yummy there, such was the good smell. Keta loved that area. That was why the main eastern road was called ‘Baker Street’. It was a jolly place, except for number 221b, where a weird, intelligent man was said to live. With a growing sense of yearning in her stomach, Keta turned at the first left corner as she always did when she was heading for the main plaza. But this time, something unexpected was in the way: she bumped on a huge, black thing and fell on her butt. That collision brought her feet back to the ground. Lifting her gaze at the obstacle chilled the very marrow of her bones.

A tall man, around 6'7", with a goatee and black hair to his shoulders, dressed in a scaled armour as dark as the night and a mantle. It was quite a strange armour, to be honest: usually, full armours were heavy and bulky, but this one…this one was of another kind. It was made of small, thin scales, as shiny as the stars and black as a new moon night, following every single curve of his body. It was more like a second skin than proper war armour; as a matter of fact, it was not making him bigger or wider or taller…he just had another skin above his real one. Behind his back there was a red, two-handed spear. Unable to move, Keta felt completely frozen the moment his dark eyes stared into hers. She was somehow hypnotised by the deepness of his sight, marked by a profound, dark sorrow.

Hey! Watch y—

The spearman lost all his words the moment his eyes matched hers. A palpable astonishment could be clearly seen on his face, while a bursting joy and a terrible sorrow were now mixed in his strong but gentle sight. He was showing every sign of a person who had just seen a phantom. He slowly went down on one knee, getting quite close to Keta, who could only stand still, unable to move a single muscle. Not because she was that scared, but because his eyes made her feel something strange in her guts, some kind of old, warm nostalgia, something ancestral. She started having the strange feeling that she knew that man, but at the same time, she didn’t have a clue about his identity. She felt attracted and scared at the same time, with her instinct suggesting not to be afraid, while her brain was keeping her on guard.

She noticed that his eyes started growing heavy with tears.

Are you alright? she asked under her breath. She didn’t understand why but by instinct, she was pushed to somehow ‘take care’ of that man. Seeing him sad made her sad too, somehow. He slowly moved a trembling hand beside her face, lightly holding her tress. He held it in his hand for few seconds, gently caressing it with his thumb. The strange thing was that Keta found it somehow…reassuring. Even if a huge, dark stranger was holding her tress, she felt it so natural, so familiar. And what made it even stranger was that she hated having her hair touched by anyone besides Sam. But this man…this man was special. She was feeling a strange kind of attraction for him: not like the one she felt for Joseph, something…unknown to her, up to that moment.

…Keta? whispered the spearman in a shivering voice.

She opened her eyes wide in disbelief. Did he know her? How? When? Why?

H-how…do I know you? How do you know my name?

The spearman let her tress go, covering his eyes with his hand. He remained like that for several seconds, as if he had to recompose himself after a shock. All of a sudden, he rose up; holding her shoulder with barely the tips of his fingers, the man put Keta on her feet again.

Take care, kiddo, were his last words in a now icy tone, before entering the pub on the other side of the road.

Wait! Who are you? she tried to ask, but he was already inside.

Keta stood there for a moment, trying to recollect herself after that strange meeting. Who was he? Why was he there? And why was his lance colour matching her hair? How did he know her name? Why did he start crying?

All these questions bounced inside her head until she met Judith at the main fountain.

As promised, she took Keta to the party. There was a big bonfire outside the village in the woods on the southern mountains. Almost every young person from the village was there. Someone had brought wine, some had brought the famous ‘seaside herbs’ (well known for their extremely relaxing effect), someone had brought friends. A bunch of guys was rhythmically pounding on an empty trunk with some rocks and people were dancing all around the fire. Keta didn’t like smoking but she really enjoyed dancing. And drinking. So, she danced and drank and had a lot of fun, losing track of time. The night was joyful and everyone had a good time. She and Judith also happened to dance together, laughing hard and forgetting about the daily worries.

Exhausted, Keta sat on a huge root to rest a little. She took a sip from her second cup.

You are a great dancer, said a blaring voice behind her.

Like in a ‘coup de théatre’ worth a sappy, cheap romance, Joseph appeared behind her back, wonderfully dressed, showing his best smile and his best womaniser pose. Her heart started pounding even faster. And unfortunately, her wine stuck in her throat, making her cough and turning her face redder than before.

Wha, no, we-well, that’ssssss…th-thanks, blushed the oh-so-innocent girl.

You OK?

I-I’m just a little tired, I’ve been dancing until now, I’m—

Damn, I noticed that; you’re the best dancer tonight.

Keta’s heart started pounding fast. She was there, talking to an oh-so-awesome guy who had put his eyes on her. Was it a little too much for her maybe?

Overwhelmed—that was how she was feeling in that moment: a bit the wine, a bit the weariness, a bit her nature; Keta was not thinking straight at that point.

Can you stand up?

Why?

I would like to talk to you for a moment…in private, if possible.

In private, if possible.

These last words turned Keta’s stomach into an iron ball. She started feeling strangely excited and afraid at the same time. She was shaking a little. She wanted to go but the idea of being alone with him scared her at the same time. She knew that, as drunk as she was, something could happen. She wanted it, maybe. But she was afraid of it.

In the end, she followed the beefcake.

They walked until they could barely hear the trunk’s sound, on the bank of the small lake where Keta used to swim in the hottest days. The night was clear. A lazy full moon was shining in the sky with the stars as a background. Still a few crickets could be heard in the air.

It’s nice, isn’t it? he asked.

Ah-ha, was all she could say.

You OK?

I-I’m fine…thanks, said Keta, crossing her feet and bending her head to the side.

Joseph stood silent in front of her, while his gaze magnetically captured her eyes. Keta’s heart was way out of control at that point. She was feeling something in the air, something that was about to happen. She started having goose bumps.

Is there a boyfriend I should worry about?

NONONONOnononono, ehehehehehe, nothing like that, I’mmmmmm… mmmmmm, no, well, I-I am not, I mean, I’m alone and well, you get the idea…

Joseph lightly held her hands, smiling. She was confused but also frantic and unable to stop her right foot from tapping on the ground. He was shining in front of her eyes, smiling…and they were alone on the bank. Her iron ball was getting heavier every second. With a slow movement, Joseph pulled her gently, ending up stamping his lips on hers, giving Keta shivers down her spine. It was nice. It was forbidden. It was new. She started feeling really good, but his tongue caught her by surprise when it started forcing its way inside her mouth. Reluctant at first, the wine she had before made her give up her defences and let him play with her tongue as much as he wanted. They kissed for an eternity, as far as she was concerned. She felt his hand on her back, gently caressing it, while his other hand was keeping her head close. But the more he was kissing her, the more she started feeling weird, agitated, a little scared: she had never been so physically close to a boy before. Her body could feel…things that she had actually never seen or tried before: either Joseph had a quite big, round bar of chocolate in his pocket or he was reeeeeally happy to be so close to her. Even if she found quite flattering the idea that such a beautiful man could get—that—hard just kissing her, she felt that things were running too fast: a moment before, she had been dancing with her friend and now his hardness was pushing on her belly. It was not what she had dreamed about so many times: but reality hardly matches a dream. For a girl of a small village, there was no charming price on a white horse, searching for the purest lady in the realm, no, there was just a horny boy for her. Considering that Keta had never, ever been with a man, the idea that something could go wrong started crawling in her mind. She didn’t feel like she wanted to go beyond that point; even if her intimacy was of a different opinion, her mind didn’t want something else to happen.

Unfortunately, her instinct was right: shit hit the fan when he started to put his hand between her legs. She pushed him away in a second, turning from excited to angry.

HEY! What’s the big idea?

What’s your big idea, pig? she shouted.

What’s wrong with you?

What’s wrong with me? Watch where you put your hands, asshole!

What?

What do you mean—what?

I mean, yeah, why do you think I took you here for, if not to fuck you hard?

EXCUSE ME?

Who do you think asked Judith to take you to the party?

That last question left Keta floored. So, Judith had lied to her. It was a trap…it had been set up from the very moment when Judith had told her about the party: a deep sense of anguish and disappointment erased her fear for the moment. Being a foundling, it had been quite hard for Keta to overcome her fear of trusting someone; in that moment, all the affection she had felt for her friend vanished like smoke in the cold, thin winter air. She felt empty, as if she was drowning in her own loneliness. Why did she do such a horrible thing? Why did she set her up with him? What was more important than being trusted by a close friend?

The air became suddenly cold. The light on the lake was now opaque. Her heart was in pain, more for her lost friend than for the fucking pig that was standing in front of her.

What do you mean? she asked under her breath.

I mean that I wanted you and I got you. I had to break Judith’s ass a couple of times for this but, wow, the girl with the bloody hair; you are missing in my collection. That’s it, end of the story.

Keta glanced at him for a moment that lasted a century. It was too much. Judith had set her up to a trap. He was trying to have his way with her. The alcohol in her body turned excitement into rage in the blink of an eye. She was done for the night.

Fuck you!

She turned around and started walking, but he was fast enough to grab her left arm.

Where you think you’re—

He could not end the sentence. A good punch hit him right in the face, breaking his left eyebrow.

YOU BITCH!

Unfortunately, Joseph was much stronger than her. A punch on the liver made Keta fall on her knees. She could not breathe. The world was spinning around as he pushed her to the ground. She was trying to scream for help, but that punch had gotten her good, making her unable to breathe for several seconds.

She saw him taking out his dick. Then he grabbed her legs, lifted her dress and literally ripped off her undergarments. She was desperately looking for something, ending up throwing some dirt on his face, which didn’t have much of an effect. He opened her legs wide and that was it: she could not move anymore. Fear grabbed her heart. Tears ran down her eyes.

HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY! HEEEEEELP! she could finally scream with all the voice she had in her lungs.

SHUT UP!

Another punch hurt her, in the stomach this time. She stopped screaming: crying was now the only thing that she could do. Again, he grabbed her legs, opening them even wider, hurting her groins that were overstretched all of a sudden. As she felt the tip of his dick touching her intimacy, for an instant, time stopped flowing. Reality suddenly crystallised: he was not moving, no sound in the air, everything simply stopped being.

She felt something screaming in her guts. Something dark, something irrepressibly out of control.

Her sight went blank.

As she opened her eyes again, her sight was blurred. Every sound was muffled. She was no more beside the lake: somehow, she had arrived on the opposite mountains, on a clearing above the farms. All her muscles were sore, as if she had worked for a hundred years with no rest. She could barely move. Her head was hurting as if someone had clobbered it for good. She needed a god-awful lot of effort to make her lungs work properly again. But Keta was stronger and smarter than the klutz she looked like: the first thing she did was to check herself between her legs. No blood. No pain. Same shape. She was…untouched, still. Same thing could be said for her butt. Her jaw was OK. No strange fluid on her chest or any other important part of her body. Apparently, Joseph could not touch her.

One thing was puzzling her more than anything: she was not feeling a thing, no fear, no joy, no sadness. Nothing. Her mind was somehow completely cleared, as transparent and cold as a thin ice plate. She wasn’t disappointed by her friend anymore, or angry with Joseph, even if he had tried to rape her; considering what he had just tried to do, whatever had happened had saved her from a heavy trauma.

She took quite a time before realising that she was completely naked and in the end, the pain she felt throughout her body and her blurred senses made her classify it as a secondary problem. Slowly, she sat up, clinching her legs to her chest even if all her muscles were still trembling with every movement she tried to make, with every breath she tried to take. First things first: she had to get back on track. Her head was still spinning, she could not tell where up and down was. Two strange questions started wandering inside her head: why were the southern mountains on fire? And why did she have a metallic taste in her mouth? Touching her tongue, she realised it was blood. It was still hot. Savoury. Actually, Keta liked dishes cooked with blood. Even if it could be a sign of a major injury, she didn’t panic: somehow, she knew it was not her blood. So, no inner wounds. But where was that blood coming from? When she slowly started looking around, she found the answer on her right side: there was the upper part of a human body, the entrails dripping from what remained of his spine, the spilling blood covering the grass in front of it. It was almost beheaded with just a piece of skin keeping Joseph’s head attached to whatever remained of his body. Judging from the shape of the injury, his head had not been cut off; it seemed that something had tried to rip it away bare-handed.

That vision was too much for her poor stomach: she started puking all she could. She was shaking. Alone. What in the world was going on?

Are you alright?

A voice behind her scared her to death. It was the huge armoured spearman.

…Hel…p… said Keta with almost no voice, trying to reach him with her hand.

The spearman grabbed her with just one hand and started running in the woods, holding her beneath his arm like a bag. She was dazed and confused…and very tired. She started feeling better as soon as they got near her house. On the doorstep, Sam was waiting with a blanket. Keta was at her limit: she simply closed her eyes, smiling a little.

When she regained consciousness, she was in her room. Still naked, but covered with her usual blankets. The spearman was beside her, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed, waiting for her to come to her senses.

…Are we safe? she whispered.

We are safe, kiddo, but you got to rest. Here, drink this.

Unable to move, she just opened her mouth while the spearman poured in it a blue liquid from a vial, holding her head with the other. It was delicious, the sweetest thing she had ever tried in her life.

What’s that?

A medicine made with herbs from the south. You’ll feel reborn in a few minutes. When you can stand up, I have to talk with you and Sam.

Sam…is he safe?

Safe and sound, kiddo. He is waiting for you in the other room. Jeez, you almost roasted him, you know, he said, smiling.

Roasted? What was that supposed to mean? What had happened to her? And more than anything, what the hell had happened to Joseph? Why was her whole village upside down? Why was there a fire on the southern mountains? But her head hurt too much, she could not keep asking herself any more questions.

Hmm…whateva… she mumbled with a dough-mouth.

A few minutes later, the three were sitting at the table. Sam and the spearman were drinking wine. Keta was still covered with her blanket and her doubts. She could still not breathe properly but apparently, the blue potion was slowly working: besides having her balance back, Keta started feeling again. Little by little, her heart was being grabbed by a silent, cold fear.

Well, suddenly started the spearman, I guess you want some explanations.

"Yeah, that… (Oh God, my head!) …that would be nice…"

Can you handle it, kiddo?

Yeah, just go on. But I would like to know your name first.

The man took a sip from his cup, cleaning his mouth with his hand.

My name is Edward. I am…sorry, I was your mother’s disciple.

You knew my mom? HOW? WHEN? Keta stood up, holding the blanket and pushing away the chair with her legs.

Take it easy, kiddo. Your body went through an inhuman stress. Sit down and I’ll tell the story, ’K?

He stood in silence for a few seconds, while she was staring at him.

TALK, YOU BASTARD! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY…my…

Few things could really upset Keta, especially if drunk. Her mother was one of them. She punched the table but suddenly, she felt very weak and almost ended down on the floor. Thankfully, Sam’s reflexes saved her fall.

Alright, calm down, Edward replied. But I’m telling you: this is the truth. It’s up to you to accept it or not.

He finished his cup and poured himself another one. It seemed that what he was about to say was really upsetting him, or either making him feel quite uncomfortable. He exhaled deeply, looking at the void in front of him.

You know your mother as Sophie, isn’t it?

Yes.

That was her human name.

What do you mean—human?

He took another sip of wine.

You mother was a black dragon.

Suddenly, the proverbial elephant peeped out the door, taking a chair and sitting at the table with the others. Keta was uncertain about what to do: should she believe him? Should she not? Was he kidding? Drunk already? What was going on?

And here is the proof.

Edward took his lance and put it on the table. It was a blood red lance, sharp, perfect, almost alive. Its colour was exactly matching Keta’s hair, as she had noticed that day. There were some strange engravings on the grip. Being an ex-Soldier, Sam noticed that the blade of the spear had been fused and made anew once, but for the time being, he preferred to keep an eye on the spearman, instead of asking a question that could end up being problematic.

This is the Crimson Reaper. It has been made with your mother’s blood. Only me, her disciple, and you, her daughter, can lift it.

They both stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. So, apparently, that weapon had been soaked in her mother’s blood…a black dragon’s blood…

It was so strange that Keta didn’t believe it on the spot. It seemed really too weird to be true.

Come on, kiddo, try it. Try to lift it with two fingers only.

Sceptical as she usually was, Keta slowly moved her hand towards the spear. She hesitated for a moment, giving another sceptical look at the spearman. Then she looked at Sam.

Go on, sweetie. I don’t think there is another way to find the truth right now.

As she was told, she used only the index and the thumb of her right hand. Surprisingly, she managed to lift it quite easily. It was as light as a small cherrywood piece…even more: it seemed to be made of pure air. It was giving her a very strange feeling: for an instant, Keta could swear that it was somehow alive. She could feel something pulsing inside. With a face of marble, she put it back on the table.

Told ya, kiddo, smiled Edward. Now, there is no time for the whole story. The Holy Dragon Slayers are already on their way, I’m sure of it. In a few words: your mother fell in love with a human and she got pregnant. She died giving birth, but her legacy lived on: as her daughter, you are able to turn yourself into a dragon. Unfortunately, you are half human, which means that you don’t have the necessary mental strength to control your power. You listening, kiddo?

I…I… mumbled Keta. "Hell, what is going on here? (Oooh, my head.) I am listening keep…keep talking…"

Keta was really, really confused. Her mother, a black dragon? She…half-dragon? Was that the truth? Nonetheless, everything seemed to be matching: the dead body, the mess in the village, the spear as light as air. His story seemed logical enough. Plus, Edward couldn’t have been aware of the letter and nonetheless, Sam wouldn’t have told a stranger a single thing about it. Apparently, he didn’t have a reason to lie. But wasn’t that a huge coincidence that he was in the village the exact day that her power showed up? And why did he react in such a strange way the moment she bumped into him in the village? Who was that man?

And more than anything: why did her instinct scream inside of her to believe his words? Keta often relied on her instinct when she had doubts or she didn’t know what to do…and she was right most of the times. There was a huge possibility that trusting this man was a good idea.

Now that your power is awake, you need to learn to keep it chained; otherwise, you’ll keep turning into a black dragon anytime you lose control.

Can’t you teach her? You seem quite knowledgeable, my man, Sam asked.

Look, I’m a warrior, I’m not a jack of all trades, replied Edward. You wanna be a dragon? You gotta learn from a dragon.

What? asked Keta.

The only one that can teach you is Nola.

Who’s Nola?

The only black dragon still alive. And technically, she’s your grandmother, as she is Sophie’s mother.

For a few moments, nobody was able to talk. Everybody was deep inside his own head, alone. Especially Keta. Leaving? Nola? Teaching?

She tried to calm down a moment. She realised that giving in to fear was useless and not good for her. This Edward guy seemed to know many things matching reality. He helped her. Something deep inside kept telling Keta that she could trust him.

Tell me…one thing, started Keta, hesitating. Did I…

You did what?

Did I…kill…Joseph?

You mean that corpse beside you? Yeah, most likely.

Keta widened her eyes in disbelief.

Look, I saw dozens of half-chewed bodies, it was one of your mother’s favourite fighting techniques, ’cause for a few moments, they scream in pain as they never did, no better way to scare your enemy. Besides, the blood is—

His speech was interrupted by the sound of Keta puking her heart out at the news that she had killed Joseph. And not only her heart, but also her dinner and all the wine she still had in her stomach.

Thhhith…thith I…

Uh?

Thith I hath ht? She mimed the act of swallowing something.

Not sure, but probably yes. A dragon’s mouth is way bigger than a man’s and—

Again, Edward was interrupted by the sound of Keta puking whatever she could on the ground.

Would you be a little bit more careful, you dumbass? Sam asked the spearman. Still, he got no reaction from Edward, who was just taking another sip from his cup.

OK, wheezed Keta, take me to whoever you want, I don’t want this to happen again, I don’t wanna ea—BHLUARGH!

Good choice, kiddo. It is better to leave now that it’s dark.

After another blue potion, in a few minutes, Sam and Keta prepared the essentials for a long trip, a complicated one, judging from the situation. When it was time to leave, Keta stood for a moment on the doorstep, hugging her grandpa like she had never done before.

I’m scared… confessed Keta.

Be strong, darling, be strong, he whispered in her ear.

But I’ll be back, Grandpapi, I promise!

I know you will, sweetie, and I’ll be waiting for you. You’re always going to be welcome here, remember!

Tell me one thing, she asked, letting him go. Did you…know…about me?

No, sweetheart, he replied. The only thing I knew when I found you was that you were a new-born girl, alone, in need of a home. All I knew about you was the letter you read a thousand times. That’s all.

It seemed like a stupid question…and in the end, it was. But in a day where everybody had lied to her, or deceived her, or tried to hurt her, she needed to hear an honest truth from someone she knew. She needed to remind herself what it looked like to hear a true thing from someone that genuinely loves you.

She hugged him again before leaving in a night that, despite the moon, seemed to be the darkest in her whole life.

Chapter 2

Red River Valley

Can we stop a moment? I’m tired… Keta whined.

No, kiddo, we better hurry, the Holy Slayer can reach us any moment.

Edward and Keta needed to speed up. The word that a new dragon had appeared in the region was spreading faster than they could have imagined. The loud fuss Keta had made that night was just too big not to pique the interest of the Holy Church. Several horsemen had been seen leaving the local church right after the incident, in the very moment when the scared people had tried to find some answers and some reassurances from the local priest. Every Sunday, people all over the world heard about the Black Sinner, the Antichrist that will one day return to test the faith of the believers: that was the excuse used by the church to kill any black dragon they could find. But, as a matter of fact, the colour didn’t matter: killing as many dragons as they could was their main target. The thing the church feared the most was their knowledge: far deeper than the cardinals’ one, it would have easily set people around the world free from their holy yoke.

Keta was still jumbled. The blue potion had given her back enough strength to walk, but she was still feeling dreadful: even if it had happened under abnormal circumstances, even if it had happened despite her will, she had killed a man. It was so strange that she could barely conceive it. It almost didn’t seem real. The idea that she had suddenly turned into some kind of creature and had bitten Joseph in half left a deep chill inside her heart. It was true that he had tried to rape her, and maybe she was the last one of many other victims, but still…the awareness that she had ended a life left her empty, even if it was the life of a horrible person. In that very moment, she needed a kind word. Or a hug. Or something to cheer her up. She actually needed someone to tell her ‘it is not your fault’.

They were walking in the arduous woods at the bottom of the mountains, avoiding the main roads, a thing that made their path not really easy. Standing out against the cold stars, the trees looked like silent, dark giants watching over every step she took on the way. A cold breeze waved her tress from behind, as if it was pushing her away from her home. The familiar woods now seemed so frightening, reflecting the uncertainty of the journey she had just begun, and her guilt for what had happened.

Pleeeeeease! At least give me some more of that blue potion!

OK, grumbled Edward. But just 5 minutes, we must cross the pass before dawn.

Keta dropped on the ground, staring into the void, while Edward kept an eye around. Even if physically and mentally exhausted, she was more worried about Sam than herself, as usual. Putting other people before herself was a natural thing for Keta: she liked helping people, making them smile or comforting them when they were sad or in pain. Sam, above all, had always been her top priority.

Is Sam going to be alright?

That guy’s is an ex-Soldier; he’ll be fine.

He is a what?

An ex-Soldier. Didn’t he tell you?

Nope.

Soldiers are the Holy Slayers’ handymen: they do all the wet work.

What you mean?

Small murders, kidnappings, all sorta bad stuff.

Are you saying that he is a bad person? said Keta, getting a little angry.

Stop twisting people’s words, kiddo, replied Edward, quite annoyed. "He was in the army and he quit. Anyway, the HDS don’t care about them; as soon as he is going to