Chapter 27

Panic clawed at my chest as I watched the dragon unfurl its colossal wings, casting a shadow over the academy's once-peaceful courtyard. The screams of my classmates were muffled by the pounding of my own heart; this dragon, with scales shimmering like molten silver under the afternoon sun, was the same beast from my nightmares—a nightmarish echo made flesh.
I shivered, recalling the horned man who haunted those dreams, his cold laughter intertwining with the dragon's fiery roars. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? The presence of the creature here, now, felt like a sinister puzzle piece clicking into place, a warning of something—or someone—much darker lurking behind the scenes.
"Miss Heyes," Professor Hargrave stern voice cut through the chaos, snapping me back to the present. "This is no time for daydreaming! We must act!"
"Professor," I began, breathless, an urgent whisper escaping my lips as we took cover behind a shattered column. "The dragon... I believe there's more to it. In my dreams—"
"Enough!" His eyes flashed with irritation, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. "Dreams are figments, Miss Heyes. They hold no sway over the corporeal world."
His dismissal stung like ice water splashed against my face. How could I convince him when he wouldn't even entertain the possibility? The very idea that my recurring visions were now tangibly wreaking havoc seemed ludicrous even to myself, yet the gnawing certainty in my gut refused to subside.
"Focus on the task at hand," he commanded, turning away to bark orders at the others. "We have a dragon to deal with, not fantasies."
I bit back a retort, feeling the weight of my secret press down like a physical burden. If the teacher, with all his wisdom and experience, saw no merit in my words, who would? My hands clenched into fists, frustration boiling within me as I cast another glance at the rampaging beast.
With no one to confide in, the connection between my ominous dreams and this terrifying reality remained mine alone to decipher.
I watched the dragon weave through the sky, its scales shimmering like molten silver against the backdrop of a smoke-choked horizon. Its roars shook the very foundation of the academy as it unleashed torrents of flame upon the terrified students scrambling below.
"Reality," I muttered to myself, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. The creature's likeness to the dragon in my dreams was uncanny, down to the scorching fire it spewed from its gaping maw. And yet, here it was, not just a figment of my imagination but a flesh-and-bone calamity that threatened everything we knew.
My heart raced with a mixture of fear and a desperate need to act. However, the lack of concrete proof gnawed at me. I had nothing but ethereal visions—no evidence, no tangible connection—nothing that would compel the school's council to listen to a mere student's wild theories. I could report my suspicions, but without anything solid to back them up, my words would dissolve into the chaos like morning mist burned away by the sun.
"Focus, focus," I chided myself, pushing aside the frustration that threatened to cloud my judgment. I needed to find something real, something indisputable that would give credence to the link between my nighttime phantasms and the current onslaught.
But how could I gather evidence when the world around me was crumbling to ashes?
The weight of the secret pressed down on my shoulders like a physical force as I navigated through the rubble-strewn corridors. Why was Alan so intent on finding this dragon? His usually carefree demeanor had been replaced by an intensity that burned with single-minded purpose. The way he spoke, the urgent glint in his eyes—it all pointed to something far greater than mere academic interest.
But who—or what—was this malevolent superpowered being mentioned in hushed tones by the dragon itself? The creature's words echoed in my mind, a cryptic puzzle that taunted me with its lack of clarity. It felt as though every whispered mention of power and darkness was a breadcrumb leading towards an invisible trail.
My thoughts spiraled, each one heavier than the last. The academy’s walls, once so solid and reassuring, now seemed to close in around me, a maze constructed of fear and unanswered questions. Each step felt like trespassing into a narrative I wasn't fully privy to, yet I couldn't shake the sense that it was all connected—to the horned man from my dreams, to the destruction unfolding around us, to Alan's mysterious quest.
I could almost feel the eyes of the unseen entity upon me, scrutinizing my every move, aware that I was piecing together the fragments of a larger, more sinister picture. I had to keep moving, focus on the here and now, for getting caught up in the what-ifs would only serve to paralyze me with dread.
"Alan," the name slipped from my lips, a silent plea for answers. If only I could confront him, demand the truth that I felt he was withholding. But first, I needed evidence, something concrete to prove the connection between my nightmares and the terror that had been unleashed upon us.
I bolted from the classroom as soon as the bell rang, my pulse racing with a sense of urgency that seemed to echo off the stone walls. The corridors were a blur, the faces of passing students nothing more than smudges in my peripheral vision. I had to tell someone, had to get these leaden secrets off my chest before they dragged me under.
My hand was on the doorknob of the teacher's office when it swung open abruptly, nearly causing me to stumble forward. Elodie stood there, her usually placid face etched with concern.
"Is he in?" My words tumbled out breathlessly, desperate for an anchor.
She shook her head. "No, gone for the afternoon. Something about cross-referencing old texts at the library." Her eyes met mine, searching. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," I lied, stepping back into the hallway, feeling the weight of my thoughts pressing down harder. Without the teacher's guidance, I felt adrift.
"Come on," Elodie said gently, her hand brushing against my arm. "Let's go back to the dormitory."
The walk back was silent, but not uncomfortable. Elodie had a way of making silence feel less heavy, less suffocating.
As we settled onto the worn couch in the common area of our dormitory, surrounded by the familiar scent of parchment and wood polish, Elodie began to speak softly. "You know, the teacher's been working on his theories for years," she mused, pulling her legs beneath her. "He believes that certain ancient artifacts are actually keys to understanding the true nature of dragons."
"Keys?" I echoed, the word sparking a flicker of curiosity amid my unease.
"Yes. He thinks they're not just beasts, but sentient creatures connected to the very fabric of our world." Her voice held a note of admiration, and I could tell she deeply respected the man who had dedicated his life to such pursuits.
"Does he have any of these artifacts?" I asked, leaning forward.
"A few samples," Elodie replied. "He keeps them locked away, though. Says they're too valuable and potentially dangerous to be handled carelessly."
Dangerous. The word hung between us for a moment. Was it possible that what the teacher sought was related to the dragon's malevolent pursuer? To Alan's search?
"His wife," Elodie continued, her tone shifting, "was just like him. Passionate about their research. They were quite the team, up until…" Her voice trailed off, laden with unspoken sorrow.
"Up until?" I prompted, sensing another piece of this intricate puzzle.
"Until she passed away. A sickness that no healer could cure." Elodie's gaze drifted toward the window, where the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the floor.
"Since then, he's been even more driven, if that's possible. Like he's trying to finish their work alone." She turned back to me, her eyes earnest. "Whatever you're dealing with, he might be the best ally you have."
I nodded slowly, absorbing her words. If the teacher's own quest was intertwined with the chaos at hand, then perhaps my dreams, my fears, weren't unfounded after all. Perhaps, in seeking his counsel, I might find the evidence I needed to unravel the truth behind the horned man and the dragon's cryptic warnings. But first, I would have to wait for his return, bearing the burden of my secret a little longer.
"Thank you, Elodie," I whispered, a genuine smile touching my lips for the first time since the dragon's attack. In her quiet company, the labyrinth inside my mind seemed a bit less daunting.