~ 7 ~

The Wrecking Ball that Smacks Existential Dread

You're falling. You're falling and falling. You're going to land on that ball you've been clutching. It'll break into your ribs on impact. The princess will be thrown from your back, lucky to be alive, broken on the beach, or killed by being whipped against a wall.

...I... didn't offer to help her... she... a-asked...

Does that make a difference? Does accepting to help, when you'll be no help at all, somehow make failure any more okay? Because she asked you to help, it makes it alright for her to be hurt—to be broken and taken for good?

I... wasn't meant for the job... she should have...

Should have what? Gone to someone better? Who would that be? You agreed to help her. And now you're going to fail her because a little pain is involved? Because you're coming into your own story—instead of dealing with the idle bullshit that comes in your day-to-day life?

What... do you want me to do?

Don't fail. Don't fail in this life like you did in the last. You're the antithesis of what a dragon is supposed to be. Your very existence is a joke. But, for once in your two lives—use that to your advantage. Use the uniqueness that your weakness presents.

H-How... do I succeed?

Find new ways that empower you to go on—even for a moment longer.

But I don't much care what happens to me. I'm just here to be here. To exist. Nothing really gives my life meaning here. I don't really have a purpose beyond wanting to wake up tomorrow. And even that... is only because I fear not waking up tomorrow.

Don't be selfish. Those who live for themselves die, depressed, by themselves. Focus beyond yourself. This is the first time you've felt something. Importance and meaning. Like you matter. That you're doing something that has stakes. That could succeed or fail. That could affect others.

I'm here... helping the princess.

Why are you helping the princess? Is it because you desire a kiss? Or is it due to wanting to feel like the hero instead of the villain? Have you done it out of boredom, and found yourself ensnared in something bigger than entertainment because of it? What is your reason?

I... just wanted to help... and to be a part of something.

...isn't that reason enough?

That depends.

On what?

If that reason gives you the strength to reach success.

My eyes opened, though the rest of my body couldn't be felt, a ringing in my ears, a haze settling over my brain. I looked around to see cannons across the castle walls, lowering to match my descent. Their size slowed their aiming.

“...c...o...l...e...”

A voice broke through the deafness. Just the letters of a word without feeling the implication of emotion to the calling of the name. Everything was distant to me—as it usually was. I was back in my element. Without connection or feeling to anything. No worries if I was going to fail someone.

Just the need to do what needed to be done.

My wings flared and stretched and started to flap, exhausted and burned and sore across their length, a constant plea to give up and indulge in final rest. But dragons... weren't like that. It was the opposite of their nature. And that hatred of being weak, of ever giving up... it spread like a virus across my human soul.

My wings beat through the pain, enduring the fire flush across their bones, a burning body that empowered from it. My body started to lift, still holding the ball. I swung in the air, left to right, right to left, before having enough swing to hurl the ball at the castle.

It flew in the air and, before the cannon aimed at me could fire, the ball struck it, destroying the wood. The little people fled as the wall crumbled. With the weight gone, and a few more moments of energy left, I ascended as high as able.

The ringing in my ears ceased.

"Cole! Cole! Are you okay?" I could hear her shouts barely over the crashing winds. "We have to go! We'll need to find a way off this island before anyone comes looking!"

"Come looking for what!?" another voice called from my back as I entered a forward dive, flying us away from the beach and over the central jungle. I looked over my shoulder to the spread of my back, the bridge that it was to them. "Has dear ol' princess struck a deal with a dragon? Turned on her family, and ruined their chance for prosperity?"

Oh, fuck! Not this asshole.

I saw the princess poised just below my shoulder, holding onto the sword dug there, with another hand holding onto my towering spines. Behind her, though, walked the hero. His boots pricked with something, for they cut and stuck to my scales.

"But don't you worry, little miss princess," he chuckled upon brandishing two daggers from his belt, entering a stance. The winds blew back his air, revealing the craziness flared across his face. "Your secret's safe with me. Better to think that the princess died by the dragon—instead of trying to run away with it."

I winced. What could I do? Blast fire across my back? I still wasn't for killing—and the princess would be burnt as well. Roll in the air? I wasn't sure if her grip could withstand that grip. This was her first flight, and I wasn't sure how she was handling that in her own right.

"Cole!" the princess shouted without fear. "Straighten yourself as much as possible! And call out if you have to make a turn!"

"What are you—"

"Just trust me!" I did as asked, steadying myself and blocking as much as the wind as possible, feeling my life fade. I watched and felt the princess grip the sword for support as she stood. Reaching a hand over her back, she undid several clips. "I've been wanting to lay the beatdown on this coward since the moment we were first introduced."

The dress slipped from her with a final click, flying into the open air. It left the princess in a near latex suit. She tapped her heels together, and a mechanism within was released. Two sharp things stabbed through my scales and into the skin beneath. Something tight and insulated as to go unnoticed during the recital.

Ack! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I fucking hate you humans so fucking much, I wish I could blow my fire all across my fucking back and—FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, WHY THE FUCK DOES WALKING FUCKING DAGGERS FUCKING HURT SO MUCH! FUCK! FOR FUCKS SAKE JUST... FUCK!

"I couldn't agree more, my dear!" The hero laughed from the middle of my back. "When they first introduced men when you were a little girl. Oh, my, how dreadful would have been for me to admit that I desired nothing more than to bash your little fucking head against the carpeted floor!"

"Dude!" I shouted back to the people staging a play on my back. "What the fuck!?"

"Shut it, dragon, and do as the lady says, and fly us straight." The hero stepped forward, and I groaned, enduring the feeling of needles walking across my back. "It'll make it easier, once I'm done with the princess, if you snap your neck flying into a mountain, somewhere."

"Fuck you." I glanced at the princess. "Take this son of a bitch out."

She grinned and, pulling the sword out from my scales, ignored the spurt of blood. Precisely slashing the sword in the air to clear it of red stains, she pointed it forward, declaring battle on her foe. Her ebony hair blew backward, and the view of her standing there... was captivating to the heart.

What a fucking lady.

The two charged toward each other, with the hero throwing his daggers at the princess, who slashed them both aside, despite the howling winds. I flapped my wings, watching the massive appendage rise and fall on the sides of the tiny human's stage. I was their platform, and it felt weird.

The hero charged at her without a weapon but, as she went to slash him across the middle, he ducked beneath the swipe, reaching a hand to his lower back. Crouched, he pounced forward, branding a smaller sword that had been sheathed to his back.

The princess jumped backward, just as the edge of the blade sliced across her cheek, and the winds nearly claimed her ascent. I flew a foot higher to catch her. She soared further than expected across my back, digging her feet into my scales to find her balance.

She struggled to straighten herself. The hero stood, laughing, and bringing his sword to his mouth. He licked its sharpness, where a trickle of her blood covered the steel. He licked and licked, slicing his own tongue, uncaring for his own blood covering the blade's tip.

"What's the matter?" he asked as he lowered his sword. "I have to remove all possible evidence of you being on this sword. Those nasty words you spoke. Were they all for show? Will I have to hurt myself more to prove that I had been involved in a battle?"

The princess growled.

"Don't give into him," I whispered from over my shoulder. "He's unhinged. Unbalanced. It makes him more aggressive, but it means he might overplay himself. Don't lose your focus. Appear weaker than you really are. Pretend to be angry—but never lose your focus."

I exhale slowly and softly for her. "I believe in you. We've made it this far. Just a little bit more acting—and we'll be out of this."

The princess looked at me from the corner of her eyes, her face lost in thought, an internal fight to suppress her anger. She nodded at me, a return of trust from before. Her smile transitioned into a snarl.

"No, no!" the princess cried. "I won't let you beat me!"

"At the cusp of defeat already?" The hero shook his head, shoulders dropping. Looking at his arm, he tucked his blade into the crook of his elbow. He sliced it. "Another wound for people to mourn and to praise me for. How much time off duty do you think a mere scratch and blood will earn me?"

The princess and I smiled at each other, both looking higher to the sky, and with our silent plan in motion, my wings, ever so subtly, took us higher.