The rumours had raged on for months now in Kayir’s citadels. The Seers’ rep­re­sen­ta­tives had announced that there were now as few as one or two demons remain­ing in the world, and the Grand High Priest had declared the bounty on the head of the world’s last foul spirit — a revered place in the pages of Kayir’s ever-evolving scrip­tures. Most peo­ple expected that it would be the nation’s army that would finally man­age it, and their Gen­eral who would win the hon­our. No-one men­tioned the name Zakaya, for few even knew of his exis­tence even inside Demon-hunting cir­cles. But nev­er­the­less, it was he — not the Kayir army — who was on the demons’ trail, and clos­ing fast.

The young cou­ple that came to Arcadia’s mar­ket each week and bartered away their seem­ingly end­less sup­ply of pretty jew­el­ery for essen­tials like food and clothes had always raised a few eye­brows, but Arca­dia was the kind of place where the vil­lagers barely under­stood any­thing out­side of their own mun­dane lives, and wor­ried about them even less. The cou­ple, Thei­nus and Shalara, had been together for a lit­tle over a thou­sand years, but they both knew that their lives wouldn’t last much longer now… Not just because they aged at a mor­tal rate while tak­ing on human forms, but also for a far more impor­tant rea­son. They had seen the des­tiny of a man from the south, trav­el­ling across con­ti­nents with the sole pur­pose of end­ing their lives. Far impor­tant than that, though, was the life of their son.

Zakaya was a desert man, and despite hav­ing trav­elled the world in the pur­suit of his cause, rain still made him feel uncom­fort­able. He strug­gled on across the muddy ground, wrap­ping him­self tightly in his rain­proof cloak, and cursed the weather, the fail­ing evening light, and of course the demons that were the cause of all the world’s troubles.

The two drag­ons had known their fate long before they had a child, and they knew what to do in order to try and assure his sur­vival. Shalara had spent the full term of her preg­nancy, and her son’s three years of life so far, in human form, as had her hus­band. He was grow­ing up human — and tonight was the night on which they’d be thank­ful for that. Just after dark, they went to the vil­lage Elder’s house and knocked at his door. Stand­ing there, Shalara cradling her son in her arms and Thial­nir, the elder, star­ing with eyes wide, the drag­ons explained every­thing. They asked him to take the child into his care and, with the begin­nings of tears form­ing in his eyes, he took the infant from his mother and closed the door qui­etly. Thei­nus smiled weakly at his wife, and they both silently headed back to the secluded spot in the Beyel hills out­side the vil­lage that had been their home for what would be the last time.

The going was get­ting steeper now, and the rain com­ing down more heav­ily. The mud under Zakaya’s feet sank a cou­ple of inches with each step, and sucked at his feet as he tried to move on. Slowly but surely, though, he was get­ting to the top of the hill, where he could feel the demons’ presence.

Thei­nus and Shalara embraced each other, word­lessly, as they saw the dark fig­ure approach over the crest of the hill. They heard the demon hunter’s chant as he stepped towards his foes, and they looked into each oth­ers’ eyes, over­whelmed by sadness.

Zakaya screamed as he drew his sword, and swung it around in a wide arc through Thei­nus’ and Shalara’s necks. Their bod­ies, arms still hold­ing each other, top­pled to the ground. For a sec­ond, it was as if the world held its breath — and then slowly, their forms began to dis­solve into golden light, and drift away into the night sky.

Despite the build-up to this day that he’d been prepar­ing for for months, Zakaya felt lit­tle emo­tion as, sword still in hand, he turned from where the drag­ons’ bod­ies had lain. He stood for a sec­ond in the moon­light, think­ing, and then sud­denly every­thing became red and his mind filled with pain… And every­thing faded away.

Thial­nir, tears flow­ing uncon­trol­lably from his eyes, pulled his knife from the back of Zakaya’s neck, and the self-proclaimed demon hunter’s body crum­pled to the ground. The elder stood atop the hill until dawn, think­ing about what had hap­pened that night. Then, still griev­ing deeply, he buried his knife in the ground where the two drag­ons had died — a reminder of the only small vengeance he had been able to offer.

In the vil­lage below, a young boy’s heavy and empty heart was griev­ing the loss of a feel­ing that he’d lived with so long that he never even realised was there. He looked up as the first rays of sun­light appeared over the hori­zon, and glit­tered like a tiny golden spark on the edge of his tears…