“You’re late.”
Richard Belmont observed his wife Rose approach at the edge of the graveyard. She was a young, pale-skinned girl, a year younger than him, with haunted green eyes, adorable freckles, and a comforting smile. He had not meant to speak to her with as much disgust as he had; he loved her.
But on a day like this, when his emotions would get no better than neutral and likely remain depressed, if not angry, he did not have as much control as he would’ve liked over the pitch and strength of his words.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” she murmured. “I tried to get here as quickly as I could.”
Richard drew in a breath and exhaled, watching the condensation from the cold emerge and then disappear just as quickly.
“I understand,” he said, back in control of the sound of his voice. “We were, however, supposed to start this an hour ago so we could safely be home by dusk. Carrie is not going to be pleased with you.”
“As she shouldn’t be,” Rose said. “Not that the situation would affect her temper.”
She gave that warm smile and looked gently into his eyes as she embraced him, a tender hug that meant to envelop Richard from the dangers that the world suddenly faced.
He looked over her shoulder at the night sky. He did not see any dragons soaring through the skies, looking for men, women, or children to slaughter.
But as he had learned the hard way recently, it wasn’t always in the sky.
Sometimes, he only had to look straight ahead to see the man or woman who would shift into a dragon, killing their neighbors as they entered a demonic, possessed state in which they were no longer themselves.
He put his arm around Rose and led her to the small gravestone where his fraternal twin, Carrie, and her husband, Jed, stood around a coffin. Richard had already peered inside the coffin many times today and knew what to expect.
But just because he knew it didn’t make seeing his father lying inside, the latest victim of a dragon shifter attack, any easier. Richard bit his lip as Rose tightened her arms around him.
“I’m going to find the bloody dragon that did this and stick an arrow in his—”
“Carrie,” Richard said before his sister could disrupt the moment with her vulgarities. “You are not wrong to feel this way. But please. Not now.”
Everyone in the town of Doma already felt on edge. The death of the senior Belmont—one of the strongest dragon hunters in the land—had only made things worse.
Now, everyone, even the children, carried a weapon on their hip. A sword, a bow, an ax, a spear—anything that could attack a dragon. Everyone became suspicious of their neighbor. Some became suspicious of their own family members.
By the day, more people in the town had fallen prey to the dragon shifters, either dying at their bite or becoming a shifter themselves. The town was splintering under the damage, and it was all due to one man.
“Rest assured, Carrie,” Richard began, “Devar and his dragon shifters will pay for this. The damage they have wrought in the last year deserves the full scorn of the Earth.”
Carrie simmered in her anger. That was when she was at her most dangerous, Richard thought; not when everyone knew the source of her anger, not when she laid it all out there, but when she kept it bottled up, a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding.
“At some point, when our forces are united and trained, we will advance to the north to Devar’s castle,” Richard continued. “We will find him, and we will kill him. We will lift the curse of the dragon shifters, at least for the next century. We will bring peace to this land.”
Jed placed one hand on Carrie’s shoulder, as if to bolster his brother-in-law’s argument, but the young woman with a bowl cut of dark black hair, brown boots, skinny arms, and nascent magical powers didn’t notice her husband’s touch at all. Richard doubted his sister would notice anything short of a dragon appearing on top of their father’s casket. In moments like these, she tended to let her anger and her emotion consume her.
It made Richard question if the training the town would need extended beyond archery, swordplay, and magic use.
“I’m not interested in lifting any curse, and I don’t give a dragon’s horn about tales of immortality with Devar or any other irrelevant folklore,” Carrie said, her voice quiet but seething. “I just want to see him suffer. Have a sword driven through his neck.”
“May I remind you, Carrie, that as of a year ago, you did not believe in dragon shifters either,” Richard said, ignoring Rose’s plea to calm down. “To ignore the so-called ‘folklore’ is to leave out valuable information. Perhaps some of it has become exaggerated through the years, yes, but do not be obtuse. Respect the past and have an awareness of the cyclical nature of history. We are in a dark time now, and to act like Devar is just a man is to bring you closer to your own death!”
This finally silenced Carrie for good, who took a step back and leaned closer into Jed, though she did not put her arm around him. She wasn’t a physical person to begin with, and the intensity of the moment only exasperated that trait of hers. Rose tugged harder on Richard’s arm. Richard focused on quelling the fiery temper that his sister had ignited; she was not the only Belmont with anger issues.
“Now, then, let us lay our father to rest,” Richard said.
He stepped forward over the casket and swallowed away the early onset of tears. This would not be a prolonged burial rite, not with the danger above and within the town. Not with the darkness of night so close.
“To Travis Belmont, our father, I bid you farewell to the afterlife. May you find Mother, who sacrificed her life to bring us into this world. May you find peace. And may those of us who still live find a way to honor your legacy and follow your example. Live forever in death.”
Jed came over and grabbed the far end of the casket. Together, he and Richard lowered the casket into an opening, all while keeping an eye to the sky. At any moment now, the sun would set beneath the forests and west to the river of Doma. Once that happened, the dragon shifters would become emboldened. They would take flight, rampage through the town, seeking fresh blood to consume and lives to end.
And it would be up to the Belmonts, the most empowered family of dragon hunters in Doma, to limit their carnage.
With a final thud of the last few inches, dust rose, the casket settled in, and Carrie’s and Richard’s father, Travis, found his final resting spot. Everyone gathered a shovel and made quick work of burying the casket. They did not have to get it perfect tonight. Given the time constraints, it was preferable that they did not try to do so.
They covered it enough that the casket was not visible to other visitors, albeit the mound still was apparent. Rose put her arm around Richard, Jed around Carrie. The four of them mourned the greatest hunter—nay, the greatest man—they all knew.
Richard stole a glance at his sister. They would have their vengeance, of that he had no doubt. But could he trust Carrie to think rationally? To act with discipline, to channel her anger effectively? Or would she be as she always was, impetuous, quick-tempered, and as dangerous to allies as to enemies?
Then the roar of a dragon from the center of Doma echoed to the graveyard.
