I believe Master Han wears the mask to hide his many faces. There is the face he adopts for me. Kind, caring, gently spoken. He wishes to keep me safe. He will take care of me. His words are always warm, but his eyes are cold. I am unsure whether to trust him.
There is the face he uses when he addresses his army. He is fearless, masterful, in charge. When I see it, I believe he is strong. I am tempted to trust him.
Then there is the face that reacts whenever there is trouble from the evil vampires and shifters. He claims they are persecuting him for no reason. They want him dead. He doubles the guard and goes into hiding. When I see this, I believe he is weak. I know not to trust him.
When his soldiers are defeated, he screams in rage and his men cower, for he will seize a man and take him into his private room for feeding. We can hear the man scream before he grows quiet. Then Han returns with the dead body, ripped to shreds and sucked dry. When I see this face, I fear him.
I complete the fifth row of papers taped to the wall just as I hear the lock being turned. I have no windows in this underground lair, but I sense it is nighttime. Han visits me every night, so I step away from the wall and steel my nerves.
The door opens. He stands in the doorway, and the candlelight in my room makes his golden mask gleam. He enters, and the guards close the door.
His cold eyes inspect me while he speaks softly, his voice laced with kindness. “How are you today, son? Did you sleep well? Do you have enough to eat?”
I bow my head in greeting, wishing he wouldn’t call me “son.”
“Did you learn to write any new words?” He glances toward the wall, and his body stiffens.
I feel the anger growing inside him, and I step back.
“Why do you persist in this nonsense?” His hands curl into fists as he turns back to face me. “Why can’t you do as I ask? I take good care of you. I told you to trust me!”
He lifts a hand as if to strike me, and I flinch. This is the angry face that I fear. I have seen men die when Han is like this.
His fist shakes, as if he is fighting for control. Then, with a growl, he attacks the wall, ripping the papers down. “How many times do I have to tell you? Your home is gone! I’m all you have left now.” He turns to me, his eyes glowing with rage. “If you want to live, you will trust me.”
Tears sting my eyes. I am tired of being alone, tired of being afraid. I am tempted to give in. Give up. He will be kind to me if I give up.
My head hangs in shame, and my gaze falls on the torn papers scattered across the floor. Home.
How can I give up my home, my heritage? Anger burns in my chest and simmers through my veins. I am dragon. I belong with my own kind. My dragon brother and sister, Huo and Chu, are still in Beyul-La. More eggs are waiting to hatch. I am the oldest. I will be their leader.
I snatch a paper off the floor and show it to Han. Home.
He rips it from my hands. “Your home is gone!”
A tear rolls down my face as I grab another paper and lift it to my chest. Home.
“You stubborn—” Han growls, then walks away a few feet. His hands clench and unclench, then abruptly he turns to me. “Fine. I’ll take you there. You can see for yourself.”
My heart lurches with hope. He’ll take me home?
He grabs hold of my arms, and everything goes black.
When we land, my nostrils fill with the familiar scent of home—crisp mountain air, pine trees. The sky is clear, lit up with a trillion stars and a moon almost one-third full.
But no one has come to greet me. We have landed by the central fire pit, and it is cold. I spin about, surveying the valley. The houses are destroyed. My breath catches in my chest. Where are the warrior women of Beyul-La? This has been their valley for thousands of years. They would never give it up. They have a sacred pact with the dragons.
“The women are gone,” Han says. “If any of them are still alive, then they abandoned you.”
I shake my head and run toward the sacred mountain. The women will be in there. Norjee will be there, along with Huo, Chu, and the eggs. I look up, expecting to see the top of the sacred mountain covered with snow.
It is gone. I stumble to a stop. How? How could a mountain disappear?
“It happened after we left,” Han says as he approaches me. “I brought you here so we could rescue your dragon brothers and sisters. When the evil vampires and shifters trapped us inside the mountain, I knew it wasn’t safe, and I teleported you out. I was injured. A knife in my back from one of the evil ones. But still I managed to get you out in time.”
I gasp for air. I have a vague memory of being trapped inside with screaming soldiers. But what happened to the women? To Huo and Chu and the eggs?
“The evil ones blew it up.” Han stands beside me, pointing at what used to be the sacred mountain. “Look at it. Nothing left but a pile of rubble. No one could survive that. Those bastards murdered my soldiers. Everyone inside the cave died. The women of Beyul-La. The dragons.”
I stumble back as if I have been struck across the face.
“You would be dead, too, if I hadn’t saved you.” Han turns toward me. “Your home is gone. The dragons are dead. You are the last of your kind.”
My body shakes so hard that I crumble to my knees. The last of my kind. How can this be? How can I bear it? My brother and sister gone. The eggs gone. Norjee gone. My mortal mother and all the women who raised me—gone.
I am alone. Alone, the word echoes in my mind, and I grasp my head in pain. I open my mouth to cry out, but no sound can emerge.