It was twilight. In the nearby Fire Habitat, something dark and white was moving. The baby panlong dragon mewled, looking at its new friend the Earth Dragon for protection. Comfortingly, the Earth Dragon moved over to her.
"It won't hurt you," he said. The Panlong Dragon refused to budge. The dragon was scary, and just looking at it made her feel eerily cold. "I promise. Watch, I'll go touch it." The Earth Dragon stepped back, and, looking cautiously around in case anyone was watching, stepped out of the habitat, fighting the naturally repelling magic.
Immediately, an alarm sounded, and the Earth Dragon was shot back by a bolt of magical lightning. The Panlong dragon gasped in fear and curled up into a ball, watching from the corner of her eye. A wizard entered the island, followed by her Breeder. She stayed in the middle of the Habitat, afraid. The wizard quickly cast a spell, levitating the Earth Dragon off the ground. Then they left, leaving the newly hatched Panlong Dragon quivering on the ground.
About a week later, it came to Crimson's mind to ask about how bad the punishments had been.
"Not too bad," Stoney replied. "Just enough to put me in my place." The words echoed. Put me in my place, put me in my place…
Crimson jolted awake, instantly remembering the last round. She gazed cautiously around, wondering where she was. Then she realized. She looked around, seeing the moonlit Colosseum for the first time. Most of the other dragons were asleep, with the exception of a few. A distant Clover dragon met her gaze, and she watched it for a while, remembering her original staring contest with Striker. She looked around for him and any other dragons she recognized.
A Butterfly Dragon that she faintly recognized slept tranquilly on the ground, slowly flapping its wings. Crimson marveled at the strange pattern on the back of its wings. It looks like a face…She remembered that Stoney had told her something about Butterfly Dragons, and she strained her memory to remember. However, those memories were fading away, replaced by newfound memories of events in the Dragon Games. Crimson missed the first few, innocent days, when she had no idea of the world of pain that was laid out ahead of her. I've come this far. I can keep going. Just four rounds left until the final four. Then I've got a ¾ chance of getting a medal…and a ¼ chance of death.
Crimson moved on, spotting an Air Dragon she recognized from the last round. Flurry says that Fafnir recruited the top ten to be on his team. If so, that would be Steve. Odd name, Steve. What kind of Breeder would name an Air Dragon that? Crimson moved on. The wind gently stung a wound in her side, and she spun around to look at it. That's where Fafnir stabbed me, last round, she noted with displeasure. Spectra said that they wouldn't let you heal from wounds you acquired in matches. This is probably going to hurt me in today's round.
Crimson turned around, looking for more dragons. She saw the Flower Dragon from before, lying face down against a wall. Crimson flew over swiftly, but she was fast asleep. Eventually, Crimson left, looking around for other dragons. A wizard flew, floating by magic, to the central pedestal. They seemed to be preparing something, and Crimson looked at them with interest. A few hundred people were in the audience, probably there early. As Crimson looked at them, she caught the gaze of her Breeder. She watched him for a moment, and he grinned at her. He must be so proud of me! I can't let him down.
"Hey," said a dragon from behind her. She turned, seeing an Ironwood dragon slowly get to its feet. "Why is it so dark…?"
"It's night, genius," replied another dragon. Crimson saw that the speaker was a Blue Fire dragon, blinking its eyes. Everyone's waking up. As if on cue, the Butterfly Dragon gently set its wings down and looked around. Crimson decided to look for Flurry to congratulate him on the victory. In the last few seconds, Fafnir knocked Flurry to the third level There's the smallest chance that he could have been eliminated.
After a bit of flying, she spotted Fafnir arguing loudly with a Lichen Dragon. She caught a small snippet of their conversation.
"You backstabbing sneak th-" she heard Fafnir say before rushing off. Crimson sighed. Getting into arguments as usual, I suppose. She continued looking for Flurry. Could he have…
"Welcome, welcome!" said an announcer to the growing crowd. This one was the same announcer that had spoken in the last round. "Sixty-four dragons, all resting peacefully." If you could call that argument peaceful… "Yet only half of them will move on. Many bets have been made, and I know of more than one Breeder who has bet their entire park on a dragon. I don't understand it. If they lose, what are we supposed to do with a park? And if they win, what are they going to do with another park?" The announcer paused, as if expecting laughter. A few distant giggles came, but everyone otherwise stayed silent. "Alright, alright. You've all gotten up early to see the interviews, I guess. We'll start them in a bit. Give us ten minutes. We'll use it to prep the dragons."
As before, doors opened up on the walls. However, Crimson's was on the wall directly next to her. She saw Fafnir's and the Icy, the Lichen Dragon's, next to them, too. She flew in cautiously. The doors snapped shut, nearly hitting her tail. She recoiled. What?
"All dragons are inside! Dragons, you are going to be given a number. You will speak in the order of your numbers. Also, dragons are allowed one sentence per question, and one sentence at the opening." A glowing number lit her compartment.
13
Thirteen. The unlucky number. Crimson's mind shot back to a time long ago, back in the days she had innocently spent basking in the sunlight, with Stoney at her side.
The sun beat down peacefully, warming Crimson but not overheating her; at least by Panlong Dragon standards. She lay on a smooth, dark rock which she had slept under once. She had abandoned it due to the bugs that had crawled over her during the night. However pleasing the day was, the nights were unbearable. There was nowhere to sleep as the night leeched the heat from the habitat, and she often found herself shivering in the cold. The one night it had rained, it had been amazingly refreshing. She mentioned this to Stoney.
"Don't you wish it would rain every night?" she asked. Nonchalantly, Stoney answered,
"Not really. I'm not as cold as you are, since I'm just a plain old Earth Dragon. And the rain is horrible. It soaks into your skin, it saps all the dryness out of it. Turns you into a Mud Dragon," he muttered. "I wish the Breeder would just cast a spell to get rid of all the rain."
"We're lucky that it even did rain," she had remarked. "The islands are barely below the clouds."
"You call that lucky? Being so high is just unnatural, and rain is unlucky. Very unlucky. It would take a lot of bad luck to cause it to rain."
"I like it this high. We're safe."
"Well, I don't. I wish I was on the ground, exploring deserts. I just took a chance of life, and it gave me thirteen. I'm stuck up here." Stoney noticed her expression. "I'm not saying that I don't like you! You're the best companion a dragon like me could ask for! It's just that I wish we were on the ground, being wild dragons. I've been confined here for a lot longer than you, and it's torture."
"It gave you thirteen?" inquired Crimson, changing the subject. She was going to the Dragon Games in two weeks, and she was enjoying every moment of her life here. They would be fun, but she liked it here.
"Thirteen is an unlucky number. Whenever it comes up, bad things happen. And seven is a lucky number. Good things happen when you see it."
"Really?" asked Crimson. Stoney nodded.
"Really."
Crimson hovered gently in front of the number, longing desperately for those happier days. Before all of this. Before any day, you could be cast out and have your dreams shattered. Every day, you'll have to defeat dragons that could be your friends, shattering their dreams. You could excel, do extremely well, only to fumble up once and have everything you consider your own taken from you. Everything is cutthroat, but eventually only three will remain. Just three.
Crimson's compartment opened, and a wizard began to step in. Crimson roared at the tiny human, watching as fright shook him to the bone. She smiled, amused. The wizard angrily did something with his wand, and she was stung by magic for a second, as with most spells. It quickly went away. What was the point of that? The wizard exited, and glass slammed down. Crimson's panel rose, and suddenly she had a much clearer view of the announcer. We must be pretty high on the walls of the colosseum, she realized.
The Butterfly Dragon she had seen earlier fluttered out of her cell, up to the pedestal. Her sheer size dwarfed the wizard, once again making Crimson wonder why the wizards were the ones running the dragon parks. If dragons ran it, whatever happened to that Flower Dragon wouldn't happen at all. We're not nearly as selfish as those stupid humans.
"State your name, and your opening statement," said the announcer to the Butterfly Dragon. She flapped her wings shyly, then said,
"I am Flutter, and I am in love." Crimson heard the words normally, but, oddly enough, they echoed again with a different tone in the language of the wizards. The spell! It must have been the translator! The crowd started buzzing, but the announcer silenced them with a single hand gesture. Why didn't he do that last time instead of setting up the sound barrier?
"Interesting. Care to elaborate?" asked the announcer. Crimson began to tune them out, bored. She tried to think up one of her happiest moments back at the dragon park with Stoney, but was unable to. All of the happy memories I had are fading away, she thought sadly. And when I come back-if I come back-I won't be the same.
Meanwhile, Flutter had left the pedestal and a Water Dragon was ranting about an unhygienic Swamp Dragon. Crimson rolled her eyes. I have a feeling this one could keep talking for months. Apparently the announcer felt the same way. He silenced the dragon, ushering him off the stage.
"Number Three!" called the announcer. Crimson held her breath. Fafnir had flown up.
"I am Fafnir, and my victory is guaranteed!" called out Fafnir in an inspirational tone. The steadily growing audience clapped and shouted in agreement.
"Now, now, now. What makes you so sure about that?" smiled the announcer. Crimson sighed to herself. He's so conceited.
"I, Fafnir the Great, have completed all of my matches in under a minute, as you all know," Fafnir boasted, earning a few isolated claps from the audience. "I come from the best of the best environments; a head-to-head playground designed to train me for the Games. I competed against eleven of my siblings; I was the winner! My Breeder took extreme measures to find a winner of the Dragon Games, and he has found one! I am that winner!" The audience loved it, clapping madly. No wonder he's so stuck-up, Crimson thought. His breeder taught him to be that way.
Crimson, eagerly waiting her turn, paid little attention to the next few interviews; notable dragons were Kindle, the Love Dragon, whose passionate speech won the audience over, and Icy, the Lichen, was a name she had heard in the top ten. Before she knew it, however, her turn had come. She flew nervously up after the Ice Dragon that was numbered twelve flew away.
"Thirteen!" the announcer called a split second before Crimson arrived. "Well, looks like you're here early. Name and opening statement, please." Crimson thought for a moment; she hadn't given a thought to that yet. You idiot! Well…what's special about me? I'm not special. Fafnir was conceited; Kindle was crazy; Flutter was shy. But me? I'm just a boring Panlong…and saying anything about Stoney would make it sound like I'm just copying Flutter. She looked around desperately; her Breeder caught her eye, and the words came to her.
"I am Crimson, and I actually care about the other dragons here," she said, trying to get her voice to the perfect tone. It didn't really matter; the translator made every dragon's voice sound warped and strange.
"That's awfully kind of you," said the announcer, starting to get on her nerves. "Why?"
"What do you mean? Why?" Crimson snapped back. That's the stupidest question I've heard. She stopped herself, realizing that her aggressiveness had shocked the crowd. I guess that doesn't say much for being kind and caring. "You're caring because you are," she began. "It's not something you can control. Some dragons are naturally selfish, and some aren't." With this, she glanced meaningfully at Fafnir, whose panel was close by on the wall. He rammed his horns against the glass violently, snarling. "Unfortunately, the kind dragons don't usually make it past the first few rounds, and I know why. None of the other dragons have any idea how hard it is to ruin a dragon's dream every round. It's hard to tune them out; I just can't stop thinking about Blizzard's cries of rage, Sierra's disbelief, or the crumpled form of Oakheart, crushed by a snowball. It's just horrible." The audience burst into roars of applause, and Crimson was ushered off the stage much sooner than she had anticipated.
Applauding herself for her comeback, Crimson drowsily reentered the compartment and watched the next few interviews with a bored disinterest. She saw several dragons that she recognized, but she didn't really care and found herself paying little attention to their speeches. However, eventually a dragon that she cared about came up.
"Twenty-six!" called the announcer, calling a Gold Olympus dragon off the pedestal. The flower dragon that had told Crimson that she had been abused came up. Crimson held her breath, wondering what she would talk about.
"My name is Pele, and my master abuses me," came a faint whisper, made many times louder by the translator. Gasps of shock came throughout the crowd; one particular member of the audience stood up and screamed at her.
"Is this a serious accusation? Dragon abuse is a serious crime," noted the announcer.
"Yes," Pele said firmly. "He treats all the dragons at his dragon park horribly. He doesn't care for them in the slightest way. When he trained me, he beat me if I failed. When he made me fight, he allowed no compassion; I had to kill my opponent. I was put in the Fountain of Youth so I would look adorable; I was force fed to the largest size in seconds. My master is a horrible, horrible person. I hate him, and I will always hate him." Crimson grinned. This is perfect! I'm sure Pele's Breeder didn't forsee her getting revenge in this way. She'll shut down his dragon park, liberate all the dragons, and give herself a reason to win!
"This is a shocking development," said the announcer, his tone only slightly less nonchalant than before.
"Just ask the dragons at the park. If he hasn't killed them all by now," Pele muttered.
"We'll investigate this claim. If true, we'll relocate you to a new Breeder. If false, you will suffer a very severe punishment. Do you understand?"
"Believe me, I've endured worse than you could ever throw at me," Pele replied. "I have the eight methods of magical torture memorized. If you want, I could tell you."
"That's enough. Twenty-seven!" called the announcer. Crimson zoned out again, thinking about what she had just heard. Eight methods of torture? I wonder, that time Stoney broke out of our habitat, on my first day out of the egg…Did they do one of those methods on him?
There's so much I don't know, Crimson realized. Before the Games, I didn't know what they were. One time Stoney was trying to teach me about the stars, but I thought that it didn't matter. Eight methods of torture? There's so much information out there. If I knew it all, I could probably do everything. But I know nothing; so much is a mystery. If Stoney had known what the Breeder would do, then he wouldn't have gone outside. If I had known how horrible the games would get, I might have dropped out on the first round…maybe. I don't know. What would I have done?
"Forty-four!" said the announcer. Flurry was out with speed, causing a flash of blue that turned Crimson's head.
"I'm Flurry, and I'm faster than lightning!" he boasted. Crimson was struck by how similar Flurry and Fafnir sounded. No, Flurry's a better dragon than Fafnir. He…he was my friend. But that doesn't make a dragon a good one. What does?
"That's an interesting claim," the announcer said dryly after a moment of silence, apparently unsure how to respond.
"It's true," said Flurry, equally unsure. "I'm fast. I'm strong, and I've made it here. Looking at the other dragons in the top ten…Crackle, Dusty, Icy, Flutter, even the great and mighty Fafnir," Flurry said, the heavy sarcasm in his voice lost through the translator, "None of them are as fast, or as agile as me. And as long as I can outspeed them, I'll be able to catch anything they throw at me." Crimson thought she saw a hint of a smile on the announcer's face, but it quickly vanished.
"In the previous rounds, perhaps. But how can you be sure that the upcoming rounds will? Target Shooting wasn't; perhaps other things will be instead."
"Target Shooting was accuracy, another thing I happen to excel at." To prove his point, Flurry shot an array of snowflakes up in the air. They vanished into a cloud, reappearing in a second and appearing to shoot directly towards the sun. Crimson gazed at them as they seemed to vanish.
"If you say so," the announcer said. "Forty-five!"
The rest of the interviews were just as boring as most of the others. Crimson saw three of Fafnir's teammates go up, but they were as conceited as he was. Crimson was glad that her attempts to tune out the rest of the dragons worked; being against a dragon that she knew well from an interview would be bad indeed.
After the sixty-fourth dragon finished, there was a flash of white, and Crimson quickly went unconscious, relishing the rest and hoping she would have a long time before the round started.
When Crimson woke up, she immediately felt cold. The fire in her veins felt like it went out; her muscles seemed to freeze, locking her in place. It was hard to make out anything in the darkness; she saw an outline of a wall. She blinked; the wall seemed to be melting away.
"Today's event is the Labyrinth of Sanity," said a voice. Crimson had no idea who it was; she had never heard the voice before in her life. "This game involves a maze with questions as hints. However, an aura of insanity will slowly spread over the arena, causing your intelligence to slowly slip away. First one to the edge of the maze wins; the other way to win is for your opponent to forfeit. If you forfeit, you speak the words 'I forfeit and give up my right to be in The Dragon Games.' Begin match 14, Crackle vs. Crimson!" As Crimson's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she began to make out her opponent. It was the Bone Dragon from the last round. She heard a noise, and the cold feeling diminished. She turned, watching a wall behind her fall. She flew in its direction, and bumped into a wall. She turned again and saw a yellow light in the distance.
A white mist slowly spread out. Crimson flew quickly towards the light, coming to a corner with a pedestal that read:
THE TRUE PATH TO CHOOSE IS THE ONE THAT YOU LIVED IN
What in the world could that possibly mean? wondered Crimson, taken aback by the useless message. She turned the corner and came to a dead end. The true path to choose is the one that you lived in….
She was in the Earth Habitat with Stoney. It was her last day before the Dragon Games; she was jittery with excitement.
"Enjoy this, Crimson," Stoney said. "It's your last day with me, and in our happy desert." Crimson was lying on a rock, as usual, but every so often her tail twitched impatiently. She couldn't hold back the excitement; tomorrow, she would be in the Dragon Games!
"But I'll be in the Dragon Games!" she said happily.
"Well, those aren't all fun and games. What if, for example, you made a friend and then had to beat your friend?" Crimson froze. She hadn't even considered this. She thought about a round against Stoney. Causing him to lose in the Dragon Games was unthinkable. I can't make any friends in the Dragon Games, she thought. None at all. She breathed out and enjoyed her desert, forgetting the worries that tomorrow would bring and basking in the warmth of her Earth Habitat.
I come from the earth, Crimson summarized. Had she flown over any holes in the ground? The white mist was thicker now, and she found it harder to see the ground. There weren't any obvious holes. Sighing, Crimson went to the ground and started crawling slowly on the floor, looking for holes. There were none, but she checked three times to make sure. Eventually, her legs aching from all the walking, she collapsed onto the ground. Something caught the corner of her eye, and she looked upwards.
It was so obvious, she thought as she flew up through the hidden passage. We live on floating islands. The insanity magic is probably causing me to get it wrong.
"Crimson has advanced to level two!" called the announcer as Crimson reached a stone ceiling. She looked around; there was a crossroads leading off and runes on the ceiling. Also, the white mist had become gray. She looked at the ceiling and read the runes.
THE CEILING WILL OPEN IF YOU EXPLORE EVERY AREA OF THE MAZE.
Easy enough, Crimson thought. I just have to keep my wits. She chose a path, hitting it with her tail and making a small indentation so that she would know which path she had chosen. She flew down it and, coming to a wall with two paths leading left and right, turned left. If I keep going left, I'll be able to figure out how the maze goes. She ran into a corner, and, turning it, came to another split; one path forward, one path left. She took the left one, ending up back on the crossroads.
"Crackle has advanced to level two!" said the announcer. Crimson willed herself to hurry. The indentation was on her left, so she went forward, which would be left of the left. She continued turning left at all the splits, soon finding herself at another crossroads with no indentation. She turned left once again. Once again, she turned left at a T-split, turned a corner, and turned left at a choice between left and forwards. This is one odd maze… She continued turning left, finding the same pattern over and over again. Her mind seemed cloudy and far away. I'm going in circles, she realized faintly.
"Crackle has advanced to level three!" Crimson shook her head. Gotta keep going. She frowned and turned right, hoping this would get her out of the circle. She came to another T-intersection; sighing, she turned left, around a corner, and around another split. The intersection now had an indentation in front of her. What…She shook her head and looked at the ceiling in case she had flown over all the tiles and not noticed. No such luck.
Crimson eventually went left and decided to turn right. When she came to an intersection, now with a choice between going right and forward, she went forward. She turned a corner and came to another choice, the same as before. I don't understand this. Her mind blanked; she kept going around and around, and eventually turned right instead of forwards. Oddly enough, the ceiling had opened. She flew up.
"Crimson has advanced to level three!" More runes on the ceiling, which was blue now.
When you fly or step, land will appear below you. Find the exit.
Crimson looked at the area. There was a passage leading to a sea of blue mist. She flew cautiously out and immediately felt the effects of the insanity magic. She couldn't think straight. She floated aimlessly, scanning the ceiling for an exit and trying to ignore the sounds of earth beneath her. The sounds reminded her of when she was young, and had heard the Malachite Dragons clanking their tails against shards of metal in a nearby habitat…
Crimson tried to get rid of the memory and find an exit. Crackle's been doing this for an awfully long time, she thought. It can't be easy. She kept floating, wondering why she wasn't bumping into any walls. Maybe the walls were made of magic, like a habitat, and they repelled dragons away. Put me in my place, put me in my place, echoed Crimson's thoughts meaninglessly. She realized that she had no idea where she was, and magic could have been making her turn. She spun around, looking.
No use. She was still in a sea of blue, swirling mist. There was a bit of earth below her, but around it she saw nothing but a misty abyss; the effect was disconcerting. She couldn't see anything! She zoomed around; the earth where she had been fell and vanished and more appeared. What's happening? The mist seeped into her mind. She remembered blue; blue was the color of the sky. But not at night. Then the sky was black. What color was the sky now? Was it day, or night?
Crimson turned to the ceiling, which was a deep, vivid blue that fit the day well. That's really weird. There's no clouds or sun. Is this water? No, it's not moving…and I'm not wet. Maybe…it must be the sky! There must be magic hiding the sun.
Could magic hide the sun? This was a question she had to ask Stoney. She flew up to him, peeling herself away from her rock, which felt an awful lot like dirt.
"Hey, Stoney!" she called. "Can magic hide the sun?" He didn't answer, and she nudged him. He vanished into blue mist at her touch. Crimson screamed. What had happened to her friend? Why did her head hurt? She didn't understand. Why didn't she understand…?
"Crackle has advanced to level four," said the announcer, snapping her out of her trance. She blinked. The way out. The sky was an endless way out, wasn't it? The mist is blue, the ceiling is the sky… She slammed into the ceiling, imagining it was the sky. Oddly enough, she flew right through. It was an illusion! My insanity helped me figure it out…somehow!
"Crimson has advanced to level four!" Crimson turned to read the runes, but she found none. The mist here was black, and she felt like she was dreaming.
"Welcome to the Nightmare Room," snarled Fafnir. Crimson turned and looked at him; the form of the Sapphire Dragon was black, but it was Fafnir alright. That didn't make sense. How was he in here? Fafnir smiled. "Shall we race?" Crimson saw Flurry watching. She couldn't refuse the challenge, could she?
"Bring it on," she said. Fafnir took off, and Crimson followed. She smiled. The Ruby Dragon was much slower than her, but she came to the vines, and suddenly she was tangled. She snarled and shot a blue fireball at the target, and it seared through the middle.
"I hate you! I hate you!" screamed Blizzard. Crimson looked at him. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! The words echoed, and each syllable sent renewed pain into Crimson. What had she done? She was in a headwind now, and she was slightly faster than Sierra's wind-based strategy. She pushed on, and on. She shot the fireball and took the lead and won the race. Her magic waned; pain surged through her exhausted body. She could not go on.
But go on she would. She shoved one more time, bowling the snowball over Oakheart. His screams of pain echoed and she ignored them. She knocked it into the letter grid, making letters disappear. Spectra dueled and they kept going. She beat the Rainbow.
"The dragon that places fourth dies. Last Dragon Games, six of the top eight dragons suffered a broken limb in the third-to-last round."What?"And, even though they help you heal now, the last few rounds are an extreme, cutthroat challenge. If you break your leg, you're expected to keep competing, and competing, or you're eliminated. Cast aside like roadkill. I made it far enough. I'm happy with what I've accomplished."
Then she was with Flurry and she was on the third level. Fafnir cut her with his horns, and they tore through her skin easily and slowly…
"Crackle has forfeit! Crimson has won the round!" With that, Crimson's sanity finally collapsed, and she fell into a deep, nightmare-filled slumber.