The Second Flame
Amy Turner went to get the mail, like she had done every day of her past sixteen years, tossing her mouse brown hair over one shoulder. On her way back to the kitchen, she sorted through it – there were the customary boring letters from banks, and advertisements, bills, and such. And then there was one thin envelope, unremarkable aside from the lettering – perfect scrawl in a dark green, glittery ink, and the postage stamp that covered most of the top of the letter – a shining dragon that appeared to be part of the letter, and yet not. She turned it over, and found that it had a small wax seal on the back in the shape of another dragon. Under it were the words "The Dragons Return." Amy slid her finger under the seal, but no sooner had she done that than she pulled it back with a yelp – something had burned her! Amy would have investigated further, only her cry had alerted her father in the chair across the table. In less time than it took her to protest, he stood up and eased the strange dragon letter out of her grip. He glanced at the seal, and his face went white. Without a word, he turned and fled upstairs to his study. Amy watched him go, puzzled. She would never see the dragon letter again, but it had sparked her interest.
Amy spent the next few days at the library and on their computer at home, researching dragons. She found that, although no one could prove they had existed, no one could prove they had not. She also found that many ancient cultures all believed in dragon-like creature that was intelligent, ancient, long-lived and could fly. The more Amy learned, the more the letter disturbed her, and it even got to the point where she began to dream of dragons – and one dragon in particular. One ancient egg, silvery blue in color, that lay alone and cold in a dark cave. An egg that would hatch the first of the next generation of dragons if the right person came into its presence. Amy would dream of being in the cave, and reaching out to the egg, feeling it grow warmer as her fingers drew closer, it would begin to vibrate, and then, just before it cracked, she would be dragged away into her bed. One night, after she had been woken several times by that same dream, she crept to her father's study. Even though it was late at night, Amy's father was there, studying something on his desk. Amy knocked on the door, and he looked up, startled. Seeing her, something flashed across his eyes – something that looked like anger, before it cleared. He beckoned to her, and she came and sat beside him on the chair that was always there for her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and studied her face for a moment.
"Is something wrong, Amy?" he asked, noticing her white face and wide eyes.
"Of course," said a voice in the corner. Amy gasped – she hadn't noticed when she came in that a cloaked figure stood by the door. He was dark skinned with a wide face and veiled eyes. "I'm surprised you can't see it, James. Its in her eyes – she has seen the Egg."
Amy's father looked at his daughter again. "Yes, you're right, like always. You dreamt of an egg, didn't you, Amy? That's why you came to see me tonight. You've been seeing it for a while now, haven't you?" There was no really distinguishable emotion in his voice, just calm inquiry.
Amy nodded. "Yes. I've been dreaming of it ever since that letter."
The stranger grumbled. "You let her see the letter, James? I'm ashamed. Such things should never fall into the hands of the innocent."
Amy's father shrugged. "She always gets the mail in the mornings. And how was I to know that you were sending me that letter then? You have always been a mystery to me, Agar."
Agar, the stranger, shifted his weight and looked a little embarrassed. "True, very true. Amy, have you ever touched the Egg?"
Amy shook her head. "No – something keeps pulling me away. But whenever I get close, the egg starts vibrating, and looks like it's about to crack."
Agar studied her, then reached out his dark hand. "Take it, Amy. We need you."
Amy's father held onto his daughter more tightly. "No, Agar. I have given you everything, but I can't give you her. I promised her mother I wouldn't."
Agar still held out his hand. "Its Amy's choice. But there isn't really a choice – she comes with me, and we save the dragons, or the dragons remain in their limbo forever."
Amy shrugged off her father's hand, and reached for Agar's. "Dad, the dragons need me. And if I don't, they'll never let me alone. I have to do this."
Amy's father looked sad, but he wrapped his daughter in one last hug, then turned to Agar. "I have no choice. If Alycia protests, you can handle it. Goodbye, Amy."
Amy took Agar's hand, and he pulled her into the circle of his cloak. Amy saw the walls of her father's study simply melt away, to be replaced by the cave she had seen in her dreams. Agar released her from his hold, and turned her to face him. "The Egg is down that tunnel. Take this," Agar unbuckled a long sheath from his belt – a sword, Amy realized – and pressed it into her hand. "Take this, and use it if you must." Amy took Agar's sword and unsheathed it, letting the case fall down beside her. She started down the tunnel, letting the darkness overwhelm her. She didn't know where she was going, but her feet did, and she let them carry her forward.
Agar watched her go, than sat and drew his cloak around himself and closed his eyes. All that there was to do now was wait. Amy would both succeed and reach the Egg, and soon the Dragons would be back in the Earth, or she would fail, and the dragons would remain in limbo. Either way, he would never see Amy again.
A croak interrupted Agar's meditations, and he opened his eyes to stare an icy blue dragon in the face. Amy had succeeded, Agar thought joyfully. The dragons return. Far down in the tunnel, still touching the Egg that was the gateway to where the Dragons had been kept, Amy's still body writhed, developing scales, claws and wings. A flame colored dragon stretched its wings, and followed the others up the tunnel. Opening its jaws, it sent a tongue of flame into the air, a celebration of the dragons' return.