A gust of wind hit the knight—warm and forceful. His army drifted back against it, and he staggered. The blue flame of his sword dwindled, nearly vanishing, and it sent a chill through his burning anger.
“Show yourself,” the knight shouted.
A flame answered—billowing, bright. It revealed the cavern in full: walls rising and veined with crawling death, tunnels like empty eyes watching from all around, and mounds of treasure stacked in rolling hills. Stone pillars rose from the hoard to the ceiling.
Standing atop them, wings spread and fire burning, was a golden dragon—large enough to level a kingdom in seconds.
Before the light faded, the knight spotted a shield beside a sword among the treasure. A charred skeleton lay next to them.
In the dark, he searched for the shield, his eyes readjusting to the dim blue light that remained. He found it, then drew in behind his soldiers. It was heavier than he expected.
“You’d come to take my treasure?” the dragon asked, its voice twisting through the cavern.
“I seek only a crown,” the knight replied.
“Ah. A would-be king,” it hissed, closer.
“Only a knight in search of answers.”
The beat of colossal wings drove a deafening wind over him. Air pressed from every side with each beat. He widened his stance. The sound faded into distance.
Flames lit the cavern again as the dragon soared in tight circles overhead. The knight spotted the Question perched on a nearby pillar, wings spread, its many eyes glowing. The dragon noticed them both. A distant flash of purple in the dragon’s eyes—and the Question’s wings folded.
“Curious,” it said, retreating farther from the knight.
The dragon descended as the fire vanished. It approached without fear. The knight raised his shield. When the dragon landed, the cavern shook and the knight stumbled. The creature was a silhouette defined by the absence of crawling death before it, yet its presence pressed heavy. Dread bubbled up from somewhere deep within him.
“Who are you?” the dragon boomed. It leaned in, suddenly revealed by the dim blue light of the knight’s sword. Its eyes stood as tall as he did. As it drew closer, he saw himself reflected there and imagined his blade cutting through—then dismissed the thought.
“I’m only a knight, in search of his love,” he said. “I seek to use a crown, not to take.”
The dragon pulled back.
“Yet you cannot leave.”
“Why?” the knight asked. “I’ve done no wrong.”
“If others know, they will come.”
“I will not speak of this place,” he said, kneeling. “You have my word and my honor.”
The dragon laughed. Coins jingled with the sound. A glow from deep within its belly revealed why.
Its scales were coins.
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“To take the word of a man is to take it to the grave.”
“What do you mean by this?” the knight asked, defiant.
Heat followed.
Light came with it.
The air warped, but the knight could still see clearly—an army of bone and ash scattered among gold and jewels.
The flame died, though heat lingered, leaving the dragon’s scales glowing.
“Men are nothing more than crawling death!” The words came abrupt, sickened.
The knight chose his reply with care.
“I am not man,” he said. “I am like you—a curse.”
The dragon leaned in again.
The knight turned his blade on himself and drove it through his side. It pierced his stomach and burst from his back, tearing a restrained cry from him. When he withdrew the sword, he let the dragon watch the wound knit itself closed.
“Interesting,” the dragon mused.
A claw reached from the dark, stopping short.
“May I?”
“You ask what you can freely take?”
A sharp sting crossed the knight’s stomach. His legs buckled, but he stayed upright.
“Well?” the dragon asked.
Tremors seized him as his entrails spilled free and blood pooled beneath his feet. His sword and shield shook in his hands. Iron filled his mouth. He coughed it out. The shield slipped from his grip as he clutched his stomach. His blood ran cold; sweat poured down his face.
The pain was impossible to ignore—but he refused to show it.
Bit by bit, he gathered his guts, his curse doing most of the work, never taking his eyes from the dragon. Before the healing finished, he spoke.
“If you wish to kill me, you’ll need to burn me to ash.”
Without command, his remaining army surged forward. Rusted weapons rang dull against the dragon’s hide. It laughed.
Once healed, the knight reclaimed his shield.
Heat came—drowning his dead soldiers beneath a wave of fire. He watched the dragon’s belly and throat glow as the air bent, as if swearing fealty. His army vanished in seconds, yet the fire continued, softening the treasure where the dead had stood.
Light lingered in the dragon’s scales.
“Is that all?” the knight asked. The dragon answered at once.
Flames crashed into him like a stampede. He dug in his feet, but they slid through molten coins. Fire whipped around the iron plate of his shield as he was driven back. Gold softened and clung to him in searing droplets.
His skin boiled. His forearm burned against the shield, which began to glow orange.
The flames stopped.
The dragon stared at him—annoyed.
“This is the fire that’s consumed legions?” the knight asked. “Or do you save that for something worth killing?”
“I’ve burned longer than curses,” it growled.
“Ash,” the knight said as cool air soothed his mending flesh. “Or I won’t fall.”
The dragon sneered. “Then stand.”
The knight did not.
He ran for a stone pillar, shield tucked tight. The fire came not as a burst, but a sustained roar. The cavern became a furnace, heat trapped in stone and gold.
He slowed. His feet burned. His shield sagged, edges drooping like wax. His skin blackened, split, and fell away as he reached the pillar. Behind it was scarcely cooler.
The dragon’s breath faltered—fire sputtering. The knight lifted what remained of his shield and glimpsed molten gold sliding between the dragon’s scales.
The fire stopped.
“Pathetic,” the knight shouted. “Your words burned hotter than your fire.”
“Face me!” the dragon coughed.
The knight stepped out, discarding the shield. Stone pillars gleamed like fresh ingots. Mountains of gold had smoothed into molten planes.
The knight smiled. “As I would a summer’s day.”
Fire tore through the air. The dragon screamed. Its scales melted and dripped like candle wax. The knight’s flesh burned away to bone, held together by nothing but a curse as he collapsed.
The dragon fell with him, fire choking in its throat. Its massive head struck the stone beside the knight, and it lay gasping.
“Nothing,” it rasped, smoke bleeding from its mouth, “stands against me.”
The knight’s flesh returned, filling the empty space, making him whole. As his skin regrew, he rose and approached the dragon.
Molten gold spilled from its mouth.
The cavern fell silent.
