In a fast whirl of fury, Ansgarde jumped on the figure and pinned it to the ground, but it quickly clasped her wrists in a powerful hold. She was too weak to fight anyone off. She was a useless protector.

She broke into sobs again, confusing her attacker who released her. She covered her eyes, wanting to disappear. This wasn’t happening. It was just a figment of her imagination, just another story she cooked up for Sadie - a daring adventure full of obstacles her hero would easily overcome.

“Calm down, demon,” a deep voice said.

But she wasn’t Sadie. This story couldn’t be rewritten with a happier ending. Hoping that it wasn’t real was not helping anyone. She had to let go of the fantasy and face reality. She had to deal with the problems she created.

Ansgarde wiped her dripping nose and tried to calm her breathing. She blinked the tears away enough to see that she was still sitting atop of her attacker - Larimar.

“The strangest creature I’ve ever met,” he mused, frowning, his hair splayed on the ground like a frayed blanket.

She jumped off of him but standing was too painful. She hobbled over back to Spinel, who was most vulnerable now. No human would lay hands on her. She would rather die than let her get eaten alive.

“Stay away!” she cried out weakly, putting an arm around the little demon. “Just stay away.”

And how exactly would she fight him off if he attacked?

He got to his feet and stood over her, a large cloth tied to his neck, blowing in the wind, making him larger than life. The moon was directly behind him, turning his silhouette black in contrast.

Ansgarde curled up into a ball around her friend, covering them both with her wings. She didn’t want to see how he planned to dispatch them.

“I’m sorry, Spinel,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m a terrible sidekick.”

“Did you fall?” he demanded, towering above her. He crouched and tried to move her wing aside to see her face. “It’s important. Did you fall, Ansgarde?”

“Let go!”

She struggled, but in the end, his strength won over. She covered her face with her trembling arm, Spinel’s still body next to her face. Everything was over. Spinel would pay the price of her failure.

“Stop fighting. I won’t hurt you.”

Something brushed the side of her arm, and she flinched away.

“You’re hurt,” he said in a much gentler tone than what she would have expected from an attacker. “You fell, didn’t you?”

She dared to open her eyes to look at him through the curtain of her tangled hair. His face was in shadows, the moon still behind him, but his calm demeanor made her consider his words. If he wasn’t here to harm them, why was he here?

“Am I back on your island?” she asked hoarsely. It was so dark, it wouldn’t be surprising if she accidentally landed in the last place she wanted to be right now. The hands of fate had a sick sense of humor.

He didn’t answer but brushed her skin again. Her sleeve was ripped, exposing her entire arm - more skin for him to touch with his vile fingers. She curled up into a tight ball, pulling her wings around her again. She had never felt this ashamed in her life.

“The starlit sky…” he whispered, and she peeked back at him, “fell onto fledgling’s cradle.”

She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. He wasn’t making any sense. He froze over her, unmoving, lost in his rambling human thoughts.

She looked down at her arm, wondering why he was so interested in it. It was still riddled with the little glowing dots from her earlier swim and contrasted against her skin which took on a dark-blue shade at night. She had to have looked like a ridiculous speckled blue wallpaper, torn, bruised, and dirty due to her own fault.

Since he wasn’t doing anything threatening, she looked back at her friend. Her breathing was so faint, the wait between each rise of her little chest was agony. “Spinel… please.”

“What’s that? A pet?” The incredulity in his voice stung her ears.

“Not what. Who!” she spat. “It’s Spinel. My friend.”

“What is it… she?”

Ansgarde glared at him. “She’s a Brumal demon. You can’t eat her! She’s poisonous!” she added, hoping he’d believe the lie.

He raised his hands and leaned away. “I wasn’t going to eat her. Why would you think that?”

She looked back at her little friend and smoothed out her fuzzy hair. “It’s what you humans do.”

She took Spinel in her palm and sat on her haunches. She didn’t care that it hurt. She deserved it. “Please, wake up. I need you. I’d do anything for you.”

A sob escaped her lips against her wish. Spinel was not moving at all. Did she stop breathing?

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked, leaning closer.

“It must have been the Lodolites,” she mumbled through sobs. “They did something to her. She won’t wake up.”

“Lodolites? From the Fungisland?”

She looked at him through tears and nodded, unable to speak the words. She chose that island. It was her fault. She should have realized that those creatures were sinister.

“She didn’t eat any of the mushrooms there, did she?”

Ansgarde blinked and hiccupped. “She ate a lot. She constantly eats.”

The little chest rose and fell again, getting another sob out of her.

“Oh. Not good.”

She turned to him. “What?”

He leaned in and poked Spinel with his finger. “In small quantities, those mushrooms will put you to sleep. In large quantities…”

“In large quantities what?” she yelled, making him flinch. “She’ll die?”

“The sleep realm is easy to get lost in.” He looked her in the eyes. His were black as the night. “I’ll do what I can.”

She blinked and hiccupped again. “Do what? What can you do?”

He stretched out his hands, palms up. “Trust me.”

“Trust you?” Ansgarde held her friend closer to her chest. “You want me to give you my friend when she’s defenseless? Why would I?”

He shook his head, his voice firm. “If you want her to live, you have to trust me.”

She hesitated, weighing her choices. Why was he friendly now? Just yesterday, he glared at her like the rest of the humans who deemed her a beast. What caused his attitude to change so much he’d be willing to help a demon? A demon that was trying to undo the curse his people put on the dragons. Allegedly. She wished she hadn’t told them her purpose here. It wasn’t wise.

But Spinel wasn’t moving, and there was no one else offering help.

“Promise,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Promise on the life of your sister that you will bring back Spinel healthy and sound.”

“I promise on my sister’s life that I will do everything in my power to bring Spinel back healthy and sound.” He closed his eyes. “That’s the best I can give you.”

Spinel had not drawn a breath in a few seconds. Her life could not be forfeited due to doubt.

A little whine escaped Ansgarde’s lips as she placed Spinel’s limp form in his palm.

He sat cross-legged, arms resting on his thighs, his cupped hands with Spinel in the middle. He looked up at the sky, and Ansgarde followed his gaze.

Cloud Empire night sky was an expanse of twinkling stars painted on a bed of dark blue, forming constellations she had never seen. She could swear a few of them looked like the outline of dragons, flapping their massive wings, roaring fire. The evidence of their presence was right here. Yet, she had never felt further away from this mythical creature.

She checked back on him and gasped.

Larimar’s eyes no longer held whites. Like smooth black mirrors, they reflected the stars, magnifying their gleam. He was magic.