In a small building marked 'constabulary', it was a day like it usually was, though different in many ways. Before, they had to content with partygoers by the beach and pub fights, along with some pickpockets and other crimes that could happen in a small, seaside town that also happened to be a trading port and a resort town. The constables of Aldimar worked well with the guards and the dragon riders, despite an overlap in responsibility.

  But since last week, their job was to guard a single 'enemy', one who surrendered himself and had not been a trouble ever since. The other jobs they did was to prevent looting and checking on the safety of the cleanup crew. There were no drunkards to content with and brawls. Many of those people were simply not in Aldimar at all.

  So, they had nothing to do but to keep an eye on their only prisoner, and he was docile ever since he was put in fetters. There was no mention of him being transferred to Camarth for questioning. He gave them the answers they seek: that he did not know the reptilian attackers, that he was working by himself, and that he was there to protect someone, namely Thomas Alonquin. He couldn't tell them of any other disguised enemies, for he adamantly declared that he was not working for them.

  But one day, that routine would change, especially when the right question was asked.

  Outside, in one of Aldimar's gloomiest day, a fox approached a constable standing guard near the gates to the constabulary's main building. It wasn't unusual to find a red fox in Manarithia, but they rarely wandered to the bay area. This clearly caught the attention of the constable, who squatted so that he could be closer to the fox.

  "Hey, there, little buddy," he said. "Where did you come from?"

  The fox simply stared at him, as if curious. The constable smiled.

  "I'll get you something to eat, okay?"

  "Oh, that won't suffice," said the fox. "I need something more than that."

  The constable was not able to react in surprise. He was already put in a charm by the 'fox'. The constables never met her, despite her involvement in the incident a week ago. It was for Shana's benefit. There wasn't any need to reveal herself just yet.

  "Now, be a good boy, and direct me to the person that will take me to your prisoner," said Shana. "Go on."

  The constable wordlessly walked back to the constabulary building, with the Sionnach following close behind, staying out of sight. He entered the building, followed by Shana. Someone greeted him.

  "Hey, Paul," said a fellow constable. "You need anything?"

  "Nothing," said Paul, speaking naturally, though with a slightly monotone delivery. "Say. Do you know who's in charge of the prisoner?"

  "That would be Jamis. He's sitting by the holding cell. What's wrong?"

  "Nothing. Carry on."

  Shana did not linger. She wasn't able to tell if Paul was friends with the constable greeting him. All she could do was let him return to his post while the other constable looked at him quizzically, wondering if he's well.

  Using her nimbleness as a fox, she stayed out of sight as she approached the prison area. There was an open door that led to the holding cells. It would complicate matters if someone happened to see what she's attempting to do, though she immediately cease her worry once she noticed a smaller, locked door near the floor where they would deliver the food for the prisoner.

  It was only the matter of her charming Jamis, the constable sitting by the only occupied prisoner cell at the moment. She did her usual trick by first drawing the attention of the constable towards her with fox noises. Jamis, unlike Paul, saw her as a pest, but it wasn't going to affect what she was planning to do.

  An eye contact was all she needed to charm the constable to do her whims.

  "Open the food door, or whatever you call it," said Shana. "Then do what you're assigned to do."

  Jamis nodded, taking the key from a wall nearby. He kneeled and inserted the key for the food door, which opened with a click. Once he opened the door, Shana immediately jumped in, with the charmed constable closing the door behind her and returning to his post, all without arousing any suspicions.

  "That went well," said Shana, before turning towards the person she wanted to me.

  In front of her was Rory, kept in chains by manacles secured to the cobblestone wall. The presence of such a contraption surprised Shana, but perhaps they had their fill of dangerous prisoners to necessitate such an installment.

  The Sybarian prisoner was calm and collected before, but seemed to be surprised to see a fox in front of him. Shana silently checked on him and his features, then began to talk.

  "The more I look at you, the more I'm convinced you're not actually a Sybarian," said Shana. "You look like a cross between a bird and a reptile."

  "That's because I'm not," he said, calmness in his tone. "I'm a Dromedian. Sybarians are the reptilian ones. I'm a saurian."

  "It doesn't matter what you identify with," said Shana. "What matters are your intentions, and whatever secret you have."

  The prisoner who once called himself Rory Tellian gazed at Shana. The sionnach was an unusual travel companion who Bartlett and the others called the witch. They barely knew each other before they were forced to deal with the incident a week ago, one that landed Rory inside the prison.

  "How's Thomas?" asked Rory. "Is he alright?"

  "Thanks to you, he is having nightmares that he confided in me. As if I know how to deal with traumatic memories."

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  "Oh." He lowered his head in shame, which gave Shana a good description on him.

  This reptilian person, while similar to Sybarian in many ways, was obviously different. The most obvious was the presence of bright red feathers on top of his head, acting like some sort of a mane or a hair. Shana remembered what she saw of the Sybarian body retrieved from the fight. Not only did they lack any feathers, but they also seemed like they belonged to different species of land reptiles. One had bright yellow scales and big, snake-like eyes. Another had a moss green color and a pair of rounded eyes. This captured one, who was calling himself Rory, had feathers and sharp, talon-like claws reminiscent of birds of prey, in addition to his bright yellow reptilian eyes. What clearly made him different was the presence of a bigger, curved claw on his feet that pointed upward, as if it was a broken digit. He also possessed a beak at the tip of his snout. It was too small to be considered bird-like, but it did reminded Shana of a turtle, only not as prominent. All in all, this Dromedian was avian-like, but not enough to be called a bird person.

  Satisfied with what she saw, she proceeded to ask something arguably more important. She couldn't stay long.

  "You'll have to ask for his forgiveness when he mustered enough courage to speak to you, Rory," she said. "But for now, I need information from you."

  "Before you ask anything, I need to straighten one thing out first," interrupted Rory. "Rory is not my real name. Now that I'm not wearing a disguise, I think it's better for you to call me by my real name. My name is Sanatasi. That's my Dromedian name, if you're wondering."

  "I don't really care, Sanatasi," said Shana. "What you call yourself is your business."

  "You could at least humor me a little, but okay."

  Shana did not hesitate to ask him the question she had been meaning to ask.

  "Tell me. What do you know of Henrietta's fire?"

  His feathers raised and his eyes went wide. Shana immediately knew she asked the right question.

  "You noticed, too?" he asked, bewildered.

  "Of course, I'd notice. I'm a faerie. I know the difference between a dragon's fire and whatever fire Henrietta used that day. Judging from your reaction, I wager you know its relevance."

  "I know. It's just difficult to believe," said Sanatasi. "A human, cursed into a dragon, wielding the fire of a goddess? It's ridiculous, but I saw it. I felt it."

  "Fire of a goddess?"

  "It's a legend perpetuated by our religion. Nowadays, only the elderly and the devout Dromedians believe such a thing. They say it keeps us optimistic in a time where knowledge of our kind is non-existent. I'm not a devout, but I do like the story."

  "Story of what?"

  "Of Heralds to the Pantheon of Dragon Gods. Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but hear me out. Legend said that, in times of turmoil and chaos, the dragon gods will choose heralds that will save the world from a great enemy and will grant salvation after a great cataclysm has passed. One such herald, for some reason, is Henrietta, but she might not know it yet."

  "Does this have to do with her curse?"

  "Believe me when I said I don't know. I wasn't there when the massacre happened."

  "But you were there to save Thomas."

  Sanatasi hesitated to answer, but he did so anyway.

  "I was supposed to kill him that night," said Sanatasi. "I was part of the massacre, but I assure you, I did not spill any blood. I was not assigned to infiltrate the castle. I was assigned to kill anyone who managed to escape to the other side of the lake. The family had a boating lodge on the other side of the lake, and that's where I waited for escapees."

  "You know they could just row to the other side, right?"

  "Not if the boat itself was charmed to float itself towards the lodge. One of the infiltrators made sure of it, and I doubt Thomas knew, given how distraught he was that night. His boat came to me, and I was supposed to claim my prize. But...I always had doubts to their plans. I may look like this, but I'm no monster. I couldn't just let an innocent human boy die, not after I saw how miserable he looked. So, I ran with him. I never looked back."

  "That's a good story, but right now, I'm more interested in Henrietta's fire. Since you don't know, then I waste my time here."

  "Wait," said Sanatasi. "I don't know how and why Henrietta was cursed, but I remembered something my grandfather once told me about the goddess's fire. The fire was a gift by the dragon goddess of fire, Zulkiris. Whoever was worthy of the Goddess's flame possesses the soul of a dragon. Now, I don't know if that holds true to a human, but she's cursed into a dragon. That could be something interesting for you to think about, right?"

  Shana privately admitted that Sanatasi had a point.

  "I'm still wondering how you believe dragons to be gods when there are a lot of them flying around," said Shana.

  "Those dragons?" Sanatasi scoffed. "Those are beasts. The gods I'm talking about are of a different plane of reality. They may look like those flying beasts, but that's only because our ancestors took their image to represent our gods. Don't the Hoki worship dragons, too?"

  "That, I don't know," said Shana, before she sighed. "Look, I appreciate that you're making this easy for all of us, but in the end, it only adds to the mystery of Henrietta's current predicament."

  "Hey, I'm sorry, alright? I'm a soldier, not a scholar. But there's one thing I can tell you, regarding Henrietta."

  "And that is?"

  "If she's truly gifted by Zulkiris, the goddess should've contacted her by now, if the legend is to be believed," said Sanatasi. "She used her gift. That should draw the goddess's attention."

  Shana noted it silently before she proceeded to open the unlocked food door to exit the room. Before she left the area, she turned to the constable she charmed and said, "Unlock his chains, but don't let anyone know. Tell him it's his compensation."

  Jamis silently nodded and slowly opened the door into Sanatasi's cell and did what Shana told him to. Sanatasi listened to the man and noticed his glowing eyes. He immediately assumed that this was Shana's lackey, the one that let her enter the constabulary in the first place. The Dromedian simply nodded in silence, grateful of the limited freedom.

  As for Shana, she walked away from the constabulary and towards the shed where Thomas and Henrietta stayed. Thomas was away to help the volunteers clean the beach with his limited knowledge of purification, though it wasn't for naught. Shana did not care much about the situation, only wanting to pursue her own goals, which was part of the reason why she joined the group in the first place.

  He entered the shed through an open ventilation window, which was big enough to let her in. Inside, the sleeping figure of a pink-scaled dragon, with parts of her body slowly ravaged by the anti-draconic ailment, becoming more prominent, evident by the black strands.

  The sionnach stood in front of the dragon, whose slumber seemed disturbed by her ragged breath and occasional growls. She was living out a nightmare, or perhaps her body was in pain from the ailment. The dragon healers were trying their best to find a cure, but Shana privately knew that their efforts would not be quick enough to save her life.

  The information she got from Sanatasi gave her a different solution and an idea. The sionnach put one of her paws on Henrietta's snout. It wasn't to wake her up, or to charm her. It was to show her endearment, and encouragement.

  "If you truly have a goddess gifting you such a primal form of fire," said Shana. "Then you must learn how to use it, lest you will die. Don't you still have something to do, Henrietta of Vesparte? Is dying truly a privilege for you right now? If my words can reach you, then I will tell you this. You only have yourself in this, so fight, and prove to them that you are truly what that Dromedian believes you to be: a Herald of the Goddess."

  Shana paused, then, under her breath, said, "Then you might be able to help me, too."

  With that message, Shana walked away from the shed, not looking back, but still hoping that the princess-turned-dragon listened to her. She might as well be the sionnach's hope, as do her survival being the hope for those who cared for her.

  And her fire could be the answer to all their problems.