I looked up.

And then I looked up even more.

Where before an elven druid stood, there now towered a growing figure of colossal height. 

Gone was the robed figure tattered with disheveledness and a napkin stained with the remains of food. 

Instead, his body warped and twisted, skin giving away to jagged scales and ears protruding forth as black horns. The pale shadow of ambition was still seen behind his back, but now it was cast by a tail more thorned than any rose, so large it continually curled around the boundaries of the chamber. 

Curling and curling … until it slid around to seal away the exit behind Coppelia and I. 

The face leering with disappointment was replaced by a snout bristling with smoke, and a maw wide enough to dispense with cutlery altogether. Instead, the table of food was simply crushed as a clawed foot came walloping down, doing what should have been done without the need for such theatrics. 

As I continually peered up, what I saw was a creature so comically unsuited for the size of this chamber that even with its knees bent and head low, its serrated back drew lines against the ceiling. 

Then, it peered down at us with a puff of smoke. 

Scales. Tails. Horns. 

And most of all, a great set of wings, unfolding even as they were hemmed in by the cage that were the chamber’s walls. 

Yes. Because of all the powers of nature and magic a druid could boast, none were as great or as famed as their ability to transform into creatures of the wild, both high and low. 

And the creature this peasant had adopted for himself was worthy of one recognised as an archdruid.

Most impressively, he didn’t make any grievous errors with the colour of his scales. They were a single shade, clashing only with the colourful remains of stale macarons squashed beneath his claws. Black as a raven’s feathers, a fanged monster bearing a forked tongue leered down at me with an outstretched neck, its head framing out much of the ceiling.

Yes.

It was …

“A dragon,” came the booming voice, shaking from the depths of a throat now aglow with each breath. Even transformed into a creature lacking cheek muscles, its sneer was still evident. “You see correctly. There is a reason I am called Eucian of the Stars. And it is because I do not simply peer into the night. I traverse it.” 

In response, I took a step backwards. 

Again, and again, and again … I slowly withdrew to the end of the chamber where a tail met my back, its spikes digging into the tiles as it shifted slightly to remind me of its presence. 

And then–

I studied the creature, filling up the chamber like a black tuna in a fishbowl. And what I saw most was its great set of claws as it stole another crashing step towards me.

With a tilt of my head, I did what any self-respecting princess would do in this situation.

I offered the black colossus a frown.

“Wyvern,” I said simply.

Its golden pair of eyes blinked at me.

“What?”

“Wyvern,” I repeated, clicking my fingers towards the creature’s set of claws. The one pair which existed. “Dragons have four legs. Wyverns have two. Ergo, you are not a dragon. You’re a wyvern.”

“There are dragons with two legs,” said the not-a-dragon at once. “They’re known to exist in other parts of the world. They’re well-documented in many renowned works.”

“Then I’m afraid you accidentally found yourself in the children’s section. Because there is a reason why dragons and wyverns are their own distinct group of creatures. And that’s because they’re sufficiently different from one another.”

“There is no difference between a dragon and a wyvern. Side by side, they are almost identical.”

“No difference or almost identical. Which is it? You cannot have both.” I turned to my loyal handmaiden, who was eyeing the wyvern with professional interest. “You see? It’s because of lazy language like this that children are taught to believe that wyverns and dragons are interchangeable.”

“Terrible, huh?”

“Precisely. The result is that you have peasants who spend a lifetime learning to take on the form of the wrong creature. And then feel too embarrassed to admit it, so they become unrelenting in their lack of class instead.”

“There is nothing to admit,” said the wyvern, whose booming voice still boasted the grating insistence of its bearer. “Villagers will flee from me at the same speed they flee from Martuk the Mad. A wyvern and a dragon are indistinguishable in both ability and appearance. Right now, I have scales, wings, a tail and a fire breath.”

“And two legs. Because you’re a wyvern.”

“This is semantics.”

“No, this is definition. Dragons and wyverns are separate creatures with their own listings in any zoological manual you wish to open. I can clearly see you lack a pair of limbs required to form the most basic definition of a dragon. And that is merely the beginning of what you lack.”

Indeed, were it only a pair of claws which were missing, I’d understand his grief. And yet the differences were far more stark.

Lesser cousins to their dragon counterparts, wyverns were weaker in stature, magic and wisdom.

And this peasant was particularly lacking in the latter. 

Granted, to be a weak dragon was to be a weak demi-god. Dragons were the most powerful creatures known to exist, burying civilisations as they kidnapped beautiful princesses at their leisure. And so even their shadows covered all which peered upon them.

But this was no shadow.

It was the shadow of a shadow. An imitation of majesty and splendour as false as the dragon figurines I’d seen the maids toying with on occasion. And while a dragon was worthy of my time, a wyvern needed to book well in advance. 

As the leading light of my kingdom, my time was expensive. And for a mere imitation, quite unaffordable.

The black wyvern’s eyes narrowed at me like a giant feline as it stooped beneath the ceiling. 

Then, its throat began to glow.

“There is none who would look at me and mistake me for anything else. For it is not my claws which draws the eye. It is my flames.” 

Black smoke began to emanate from the wyvern’s snout, forcing me to flick away the worst of it with my hand.

“I commend you for your bravery. And your impertinence. Few have irked me enough to draw upon my dragon’s form–”

“Coppelia?”

“Definitely a wyvern. I know dragons. And let me tell you, when they do the big voice thing, you can really feel it. I have to check that all my cogs are still in the right place afterwards.”

“There you have it. A neutral assessment by a resident of Ouzelia, home to more dragons than anywhere else combined.”

For a moment, the glow within the wyvern's throat brightened, the black scales almost whitening as though iron heated in a blacksmith’s forge.

Then, it was quenched. 

Not by any water. 

But by the clear noise of indignation as the wyvern stamped with its one, yes, one set of legs.

“What is wrong with you?! This brazenness is outrageous! Why do you not cower in terror?! Dragon or wyvern! It matters not–”

I raised a finger. A small cry of grief met me.

“I disagree. And dare I say so would a dragon. Why, if any were here right now, they’d be arguing profusely with you why falsely representing yourself as another species is an exceptionally impolite thing to do. Just because fleas don’t object to you doesn’t mean dragons are so accommodating.”

A wide maw opened. 

Rows of serrated teeth revealed the chasm of darkness within. And yet it wasn’t to drown me in spitting flames. But just spit.

“This is ridiculous,” came a voice loud with indignation as I stepped away from the danger. “I have known disrespect, but this is beyond that. Do you … Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to maintain this form?”

Interesting.

Despite his voice now coming with its own excessive volume, it only became less impressive.

“Of course I don’t. I’m not some baroness from the countryside needing to lap at a fountain of blood like some vampire tabby. My power isn’t borrowed. It’s very much permanent.” 

The wyvern’s head drew near. 

This time, its snout came inches from my face, the golden eyes narrowing to the size of envelopes. 

“And what would you know of power? For all your insolence, you are a frail human girl wielding nothing but a lack of appreciation for life. I, meanwhile, am a dragon, who possesses the power to forge a new kingdom through right of fire. Or destroy it.”

“A bold proclamation for one who fears taking that fire to the Summer Court, knowing your flames would be doused by theirs.”

Suddenly, the ire left the golden eyes, replaced by something colder than the ruined stone around us. 

The snout withdrew, and all which remained was a puff of black smoke and disappointment.

“I care nothing for the fae. Do not presume that means I fear them.”

Quack, quack.

I paused, before turning to Coppelia in confusion.

“Did … Did you just hear a duck?”

“Nope~”

She offered me an innocent blink of her eyes.

I pursed my lips.

Then, adhering to the bliss of sheer ignorance, I returned to the much less concerning matter of the wyvern wishing to turn me into ash.

“I presume much more than that. I also presume you’ve yet to realise that what separates you from dragons is more than a missing set of legs. Dragons are highly intelligent, whose minds are rooted in matters far beyond the stars. And were you to hold even a fraction of the foresight they possess, you’d know the significant issue you currently face.”

The golden eyes glanced tellingly towards my sword, still held by my side.

And then–it scoffed.

“You are missing a lance should you wish to threaten me. Your blade, even woven with magic as old as my own, cannot hope to pierce the strength of my armour.” 

I offered a smile in response.

And then, I sheathed my blade.

“A second lesson in power,” I said to the stunned peasant in his new disguise. “Both of which I shall invoice you for. Power is not the strength to tear down armies with claws, flames or swords. It is the power to do so without lifting a weapon. Because true power lies not in the tip of a weapon, but the soles of a boot.”

A scaled face shorn of eyebrows still achieved to appear confused.

That, at least, was impressive.

“The words you just said make no sense.”

“Because you’re not a dragon. If you were, you’d know that there’s a reason all princesses sleep in towers. Dragons, you see, are our fated enemies. And in an effort to avoid being stolen away as much as possible, we’ve been trained to seek out heights. The reason is that no dragon would ever attempt to land on a narrow, vertical structure, knowing that its load bearing capacity and structural dynamics will neither permit their weight nor their size.”

The golden eyes blinked.

A moment later, they widened, the realisation as belated as a servant answering my bell after more than a single ring. 

Even so, my identity was secondary to his greater concern.

He peered down at his clawed foot.

Beneath it, a deceased pile of squished entrées and pastries was marked by the cracked stone. 

Stone which only continued to crack beneath the weight of a creature which filled up a chamber already crumbling long before it began to add to the fissures.

Thus, I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my lips as I offered a smile.

“Ohohoho … this audience is now at an end.”

Thus–

I gently raised my foot.

“[Princess Boot].”

Tap.

And lightly poked my sole against the floor before me.

For a moment, nothing but silence met the fragile nature of my touch, as delicate as the falling of any ballerina’s shoe.

Crack.

And then the seams widened.

A breath later, tiles began to break apart as all across the floor, deep faultlines gave way to fractures expanding at the pace of glass struck with a chisel. 

And it was all centred around the very wide mouthed wyvern in the centre of the chamber.

Immediately, an orb of swirling flame appeared within the chasm of that black throat, mixed with all the panic, fury and fear bristling within its golden eyes.

It came too late.

“Grraaaawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrrrrrr?!?!?!!”

As a great fissure opened up like a whale’s maw, a breath of flame which melted the very air struck against the ceiling, incinerating the stonework and releasing pale moonlight into the chamber. Wings unfurled and flapped, doing little but to send a downcurrent into the failing stonework beneath.

Then, I bore witness to the entire frame of a black wyvern falling into the newly created sinkhole, taking the rest of the floor alongside it.

“Alright! It’s hup time~!”

I waited as an arm wrapped around my waist, before promptly hoisting me into the air.

With a single leap, Coppelia lifted us towards the only chandelier still to dangle upon the ceiling.

She held onto it with a hand, the other securely around me as I was offered an unimpeded view down into the newly realised chasm below. 

One which only continued to expand.

Wood and stone more ancient than my kingdom collapsed, forming a mountain of falling debris as the frame of a colossal wyvern crashed through endless staircases and floors. A strangled cry, half elven and half wyvernic, was all that could be heard against the cacophony of destruction as the very walls shook. Entire sections which had fought against the centuries began to crumble and break away.

A moment later–

The moonlight no longer streamed into the ruined chamber.

It was everywhere. And we were falling.