The lively chatter of a bustling tavern filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of mugs and the occasional burst of laughter. At a dimly lit corner table, two villagers leaned close, their expressions a mix of intrigue and skepticism.

  “Did you hear about that boy and his talk of Drakonians?” the older of the two, a man with a sweaty beard, muttered over his half-full mug. His brow furrowed deeply as he spoke. “Claiming they’re not monsters but misunderstood victims? That they’re just trying to live peacefully?”

  His companion, a farmer with calloused hands, snorted loudly. “Misunderstood? My mother used to tell me Drakonians would swoop down and snatch kids like me from the fields! Said they’d roast us alive if we didn’t behave. And now we’re supposed to believe they’re friendly?” He rolled his eyes, taking a long swig of his drink.

  The bearded man nodded, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I saw that boy and his friends the other day—Duke, wasn’t it? They were carrying something strange into the inn. It was huge, and looked like leather, but it had bright colors all over it. Made no sense.”

  The farmer leaned closer, intrigued. “What do you think they’re up to?”

  “Could be trying to trick us,” the bearded man speculated, tapping the table with his fingers. “Maybe they’re working with those creatures, playing some long game to gain our trust. Kids like that... always scheming.”

  “Hmm.” The farmer stroked his chin, mulling it over. “You think we should warn someone? Or just keep an eye on them?”

  The older man shrugged, his expression darkening. “Let’s see what they do next. But I don’t trust it—not one bit.”

  Their conversation meandered toward other topics—harvest season, a cousin’s wedding—but unease hung in the air, a cloud of suspicion that wouldn’t disappear

  A week later, the stillness of the night was shattered by a scream.

  “Help! Somebody, help me! Are there anyone, please!”

  The desperate cry tore through the village, drawing gasps from startled villagers. Bran, a young boy with wild, messy hair, stumbled out of the foggy woods. His face was streaked with dirt and tears, his clothes ripped and muddied. He tripped and fell to the ground near the village entrance, sobbing.

  “Bran?!” his mother shouted, rushing to him. She dropped to her knees and cradled him in her arms. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  “The forest!” Bran choked out between gasps, his little body trembling. “There’s a monster! It’s huge—it’s tearing up the trees! It’s coming this way!”

  His father crouched down, gripping the boy’s shoulders. “What kind of monster? What did you see?”

  Bran’s eyes widened in pure terror, his voice barely above a whisper. “It has two heads. Teeth like knives. Claws that could shred a tree in one swipe!” He let out another sob, burying his face in his mother’s chest.

  Villagers began to gather, their faces pale and filled with fear. Whispers rippled through the crowd.

  “A monster? Here?”

  “Could it be real? Or is it just a child’s imagination?”

  “No, look at him. He’s terrified—it must be true!”

  An older villager raised his voice, steady but commanding. “Get the children and the elders into the storage cellar! Arm yourselves, everyone else! We’ll deal with this if it comes close.”

  Moments later, a low rumble echoed from the forest, followed by the sound of snapping branches. The villagers braced themselves as the fog parted, revealing a hulking figure that seemed to emerge straight from a nightmare.

  It was a towering beast, at least two meters tall, with two snarling heads adorned with sharp fangs. Thick, matted fur covered its muscular frame, and claws glinted menacingly under the moonlight. The air crackled as the monster began channeling energy into burning orbs between its claws.

  Suddenly, a booming voice rang out. “Hold it right there, ugly!”

  The crowd turned, stunned, as Jasper and Kael appeared at the edge of the clearing. Unlike the intimidating figure of the monster, their appearance left everyone confused. Jasper wore a red scarf wrapped multiple times around his neck, its ends flapping in the breeze. He had a colander perched on his head, held in place by a crooked leather belt, and a wooden broom in his hands that he waved dramatically like a sword.

  Kael, on the other hand, sported a ragged black cloak that trailed unevenly behind him. A pair of kitchen clamps protruded from his belt, and he clutched a half-broken lantern as if it were a mystical artifact. His face was covered with what appeared to be dust, making him look more like a chimney sweep than a warrior.

  “What’s the matter, Jasper? Scared already?” Kael teased, holding up the lantern as if it were a mighty shield.

  “Scared? You wish!” Jasper shot back, puffing out his chest. He swung the broom in the air like a child pretending to fight off invisible enemies. “Watch and learn how a real hero fights!”

  Their banter went on as if they were performing a comedy skit, completely ignoring the baffled and increasingly worried stares of the villagers.

  “Are they serious right now?” someone muttered, their voice tinged with disbelief.

  “This... this feels more like a circus than a rescue,” another whispered, barely stifling a laugh despite the danger.

  Jasper pointed the broom dramatically at the monster. “You! Foul beast! Do you dare threaten this peaceful village? Prepare to face the wrath of the Great Dragon Slayer!” He thrust the broom forward like a spear, the bristles wobbling comically.

  Kael snorted, stepping forward with exaggerated swagger. “You call that a threat, Jasper? Watch this.” He raised the lantern high and bellowed, “With the power of the Sacred Light—ahem, sorry, it’s out of oil—I banish you!” He wiggled the lantern slightly, making the glass rattle.

  The monster paused mid-charge, seemingly confused by the absurd display. It tilted one of its heads, then the other, as if questioning whether these two were actually serious.

  Before the beast could recover, Jasper and Kael charged forward, shouting dramatic battle cries. They lunged at the creature, their makeshift weapons flailing wildly. To everyone’s astonishment, the broom’s bristles jabbed the monster’s leg, making it stagger slightly. Kael’s lantern smacked against one of its heads with a hollow clang, drawing an annoyed growl.

  For a brief moment, it almost looked like their plan might work—until chaos ensued.

  “Watch out for my scarf!” Jasper yelled as he swung the broom again, only for the long red fabric to unravel mid-motion and trip Kael.

  “Your scarf?!” Kael shouted as he tumbled into the mud, bringing Jasper down with him in a flailing heap of broomsticks, clamps, and fabric.

  The monster roared in frustration, clearly done with the ridiculous tricks. It swatted them both with a single swipe of its massive paw, sending the unlucky duo flying into the bushes with a loud crash.

  The villagers collectively winced, half in sympathy and half in second-hand embarrassment.

  “At least they tried,” one elderly woman muttered, shaking her head.

  “Did they, though?” her neighbor replied, eyebrows raised.

  The monster, its patience clearly worn thin, turned its attention back toward the village. Energy crackled between its claws again as it prepared to unleash its full fury.

  The crowd gasped as the monster turned its attention back toward the village. It began forming flaming spheres again when a sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, carrying with it a low, almost predatory growl.

  A massive shadow passed overhead, wings outstretched, tail curling menacingly. The villagers froze, eyes wide with fear and awe, their breath catching in their throats.

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  “It’s a Drakonian!” someone whispered, clutching their companion’s arm.

  “Are we saved? ….Or doomed?” another murmured, their voice trembling as they stared at the descending figure.

  The silhouette landed with theatrical precision, the "wings" flaring in a dramatic flourish. Bits of dust and debris kicked up around him, adding to the spectacle. It was "Eregor," his body shimmering in hues of emerald green, with intricate patterns etched along the "scales" that reflected the moonlight. The headpiece featured angular horns, and his tail swished with deliberate weight, though it drooped slightly from where it had been hastily patched earlier that day.

  “You will not harm this village. Not when my presence is here.” he declared, his voice a booming baritone. His tone was calm yet commanding, carrying a practiced pressure that made even the most skeptical villager pause. He raised a clawed hand—crafted from bent wood and wrapped in painted fabric—and pointed it at the monster with dramatic flair.

  The monster faltered, its magic spheres flickering uncertainly as it stared at this unexpected arrival.

  “Whoa,” a child whispered, clutching their parent’s leg. “He’s so cool!”

  The Drakonian lunged forward, initiating a fight that looked like something out of a hero’s ballad. Sparks flew—literally. Inside the costume, Sylas’s carefully timed wind magic scattered glowing embers around the clearing. "Eregor" ducked and weaved, delivering sweeping strikes with his clawed hands, the costume’s golden highlights catching the light with each movement.

  Behind him, villagers whispered in awe.

  “Did you see that move?”

  “He’s so fast!”

  “What grace... but is that tail supposed to drag like that?” one man muttered, squinting.

  Each swing of “Eregor’s” arms came with a resounding whoosh, exaggerated by Sylas’s subtle gusts of wind. The one who is carrying her, Duke spun dramatically, only for his oversized tail to nearly trip him. He caught himself, quickly turning it into a deliberate pose, one clawed hand extended as if challenging the monster.

  “That spin was totally planned,” Duke muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth.

  “Sure it was,” Sylas whispered back from her above him, a smirk audible in her tone.

  With a final move, "Eregor" grabbed the beast by its necks—one hand on each—and hurled it into the forest with a mighty heave. Trees shook violently as the monster crashed through the foliage, a loud thud echoing into the distance.

  Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves. Duke stood tall, his wings spreading wide for maximum effect as he turned to face the villagers.

  “The danger has passed,” he announced, his voice calm and almost soothing. “You are safe now. If you ever need help, my kind will be there to protect you.”

  His wings extended again, flapping as he prepared to take off.

  The villagers, who had been frozen in uncertainty moments ago, erupted into hesitant cheers. Some clapped, others wept openly, and children waved excitedly.

  “Did you see that?” a young boy exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. “He’s like the heroes in the stories!”

  Even the skeptical ones couldn’t help but nod appreciatively.

  “Maybe not all Drakonians are bad,” someone muttered.

  Inside the costume, Duke grinned triumphantly. Carrying Sylas on his back, who used wind magic to keep them float, she whispered, “See? Told you this plan would work.”

  Duke snorted. “Plan or not, you might’ve pulled it off more gracefully if you hadn’t eaten three plates of pancakes this morning. You’re heavier than you look.”

  “Hey!” Sylas protested, turning her head sharply, which made her oversized Drakonian helmet wobble precariously. “This is pure beauty!”

  “Pure pancakes,” Duke corrected, smirking.

  Before Duke could retort, Sylas mischievously dispelled her wind magic, and the two of them dropped like a stone.

  “Woah, hey, hey, HEY, ….” Duke screamed louder after each word

  The villagers gasped collectively as their "Drakonian savior" plummeted from the sky, landing unceremoniously in a heap just outside the clearing.

  “Did... did he just fall?” a woman asked, her voice laced with confusion.

  “Can Drakonians even do that?” a child whispered, tilting his head.

  “Maybe it’s some kind of ritual,” another suggested hesitantly.

  “That was... something,” an old man finally said, scratching his head.

  “Well, at least the monster’s gone,” another replied with a shrug.

  “Yeah,” a child piped up, tugging on his mother’s sleeve. “But I don’t think Drakonians are supposed to fall like that.”

  The confusion only added to the surreal nature of the night, but one thing was clear: the villagers would be talking about this strange encounter for years to come.

  Duke groaned as he pushed himself up, brushing dirt and bits of foliage off his costume. The once-majestic tail now drooped pathetically to one side, and his helmet had slipped down over his eyes.

  “Note to self,” Duke muttered as he adjusted his headpiece, “Never hire Sylas as my flight assistant again.”

  Sylas, hovering a few feet above him using her magic, grinned impishly. “Note to self: bring a cushion next time. I’m not risking my magic for your landing skills.”

  Duke shot her a glare, which only made her laugh harder. From the clearing, the villagers watched in stunned silence as their "savior" adjusted his costume and shook a fist at the sky, looking more like a frustrated actor than a mythical protector.

  Duke’s POV

  The forest was quieter now, save for the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. Sylas and I had just finished brushing ourselves off from our not-so-graceful landing when we heard a low grumbling sound nearby.

  Emerging from the underbrush came Kaldor, Finn, and Lia, crawling awkwardly out of the monster costume like hatchlings from an egg. The tattered suit of fur and fake scales flopped onto the ground behind them as the three troubleshoot themselves.

  “That... was the worst experience of my life,” Finn groaned, stretching his back and wincing. “How do you expect anyone to move properly in that thing? It’s like being stuffed into a sausage casing!”

  “Tight space is one thing,” Lia added, tossing her fake claw gloves aside. “But whose idea was it to have us operate the arms and legs separately? We couldn’t even coordinate properly. Half the time, I couldn’t understand a word you two were yelling!”

  Kaldor stood silently for a moment, his bear-like frame towering over the others as usual. He finally looked at Finn and Lia, his ears twitching slightly in discomfort. “Sorry. My leg movements might’ve been... too much.”

  “Might’ve been?” Finn retorted, pointing to his own legs, now dotted with bruises. “Do you know how many times I tripped because you were trying to ‘add realism’ with the tail?”

  Before Kaldor could respond, Mira and Kael emerged from the shadows. Mira’s steps were uneven, and she leaned against Kael for support. Her face was pale, her usually sharp eyes softened with exhaustion.

  “You okay?” I asked, stepping forward.

  “Just tired,” Mira admitted, managing a faint smile. “Keeping those fireballs going while not actually setting anything on fire? That took a lot more magic than I thought it would.”

  Kael gave her a concerned glance but didn’t comment. Instead, he pointed to his own face, now decorated with fresh scratches and small bruises. “No worries, though. It’s normal for these kinds of plans to go a little... rough.”

  Kaldor winced and scratched the back of his head. “That’s on me again. Sorry, Kael.”

  Kael shrugged. “You’re fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  They all turned their attention to me and Sylas, their faces a mix of amusement and curiosity.

  “How about you two?” Finn asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s it like being the center of attention as ‘Eregor the Magnificent’?”

  Sylas immediately smirked. “I’ll let him go first,” she said, elbowing me lightly.

  I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Honestly? If it wasn’t for Sylas’s magic, there’s no way I’d have pulled that off. Her wind magic made the wings work perfectly, and the sparks? They were all her idea.”

  “Oh?” Sylas tilted her head, her smirk growing wider. “Is that you admitting I was actually helpful?”

  “Don’t push it,” I muttered, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

  “Oh, come on,” she teased, leaning closer. “You said something nice about me. Don’t ruin the moment.”

  The others burst into laughter, and I crossed my arms, glaring at Sylas. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t get any ideas.”

  “Too late!” she chimed, grinning.

  Before anyone could say more, Finn glanced around and frowned. “Wait a second. Where’s Jasper?”

  Lia scanned the area as well. “He was supposed to meet us here. Did he get lost?”

  A faint voice called out from above. “Uh... guys? A little help?”

  We all looked up to see Jasper dangling from a tree branch by the back of his shirt. His arms were crossed, and he looked surprisingly nonchalant about the situation.

  “How...?” Sylas started to ask but then shook her head. “No, never mind. I don’t even want to know.”

  “Why don’t you just jump down?” Mira asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Jasper yawned. “Too much effort.”

  Kaldor sighed heavily and walked over to the base of the tree. Without a word, he lifted one powerful leg and kicked the trunk. The tree shook, and Jasper plummeted with a surprised yelp, landing flat on his back with an audible thud.

  “Oof! Okay, okay, I deserved that,” Jasper groaned, rolling over and getting to his feet.

  I snatched the scarf I had lent him out of mid-air as it fluttered down. It was filthy and torn in places. I held it up with a glare. “If you keep treating my things like this, I’m kicking you out of the company.”

  Jasper’s eyes widened in mock horror. He dropped to his knees dramatically, clasping his hands together. “Oh, mighty Duke, my benevolent leader, please spare me! Your brilliance shines brighter than the moon! Your leadership is unparalleled!”

  I rolled my eyes and kicked him lightly in the side, but he clung to my leg, groveling with exaggerated fervor.

  “I’ll never disrespect your belongings again!” Jasper cried, hugging my leg like a lifeline.

  “Get off me,” I said flatly, trying to shake him loose.

  “But my noble captain—”

  “Off,” I repeated, finally managing to pry him away.

  The group’s laughter echoed through the forest as Jasper sat back on the ground, grinning akwardly. I glanced back toward the village, where faint cheers and celebrations could still be heard. A small smile crept onto my face.

  Maybe this ridiculous plan actually worked. Maybe their thoughts about Drakonians have started to change. Or at least... that’s what I hoped.