Cryptonia

I know Cryptonia like the back of my hand. Not only do I know the streets, but the skies, too.

I thought I was doing good. Shana is doing better. I've gotten her medicine, food, water. The best I can do. We don't have much, and what we do have, I've had to steal from the Order.

Shana coughs as she tries to sit up.

"Shh," I say. "Shh, it's okay."

Shayna's been sick with Ice Fever for three years. In those three years, resources have gotten harder and harder to find, especially with the Order on my tail.

But we've managed. I know the places the Order doesn't check. I know my way around.

And being a Dragi helps. Flying really helps with quick getaways.

A Dragi: half dragon, half human. Most of the time, I look human, but if I need to, I can transform and grow wings and claws.

Yeah, it's pretty useful. And definitely cool.

Unfortunately, it just means the Order wants me even more. They've been experimenting with Drages, which are like the machine version of the Dragi. In order to perfect their design, they want a live Dragi. But Dragi these days are rare.

And so, of course, they want me. A theif and a Dragi. The general population, at best, won't care what happens to me, and at worst, actively wants me dead.

But I have my connections.

And so, when Rioki messages me on the comm, I know it's time to leave.

I don't want to put Shana in any more danger than she already is. She's too weak to move, so she has to stay here, but if the Order is coming for me, they'll kill her. So I need to lure them away. Draw their attention away from this particular hiding spot.

As I leave, pulling my cloak over my head, I read the rest of Rioki's message.

Shy, they're coming. They got your location. You've got to get them away from Shay.

Shy and Shay. Shy'ir and Shana. That's me and my sister. Twins. Both of us are only sixteen.

In a world where the lucky ones live 200 years, 16 is nothing.

Shay isn't a Dragi. If she was, maybe she'd never have gotten the Ice Fever. Everyone knows Dragi have stronger immune systems than humans. And they're generally immune to ice fever, because they don't get as cold as humans, either.

Ice fever has been decimating Cryptonia for centuries. Humans have tried to adapt to the cold, ever since the Great Winter, but it's been tough. Especially when the snow is no longer safe to eat. We can't grow many crops in this cold, most livestock has migrated, and yet the Order grows stronger every day, refusing to help anyone but themselves.

So we suffer.

I clench my fists as I walk through the snow and ice. It's not fair. Why did Shay have to get sick? She doesn't deserve it.

I used to be a good person. Me and Rioki both. Before we got into the dark life. The life of crime and agony. Of hiding and barely clinging to life.

I grab a loaf of bread from the stand and sprint away, my knife clipped into my belt.

The best way to get the Order's attention away from my sister?

Give myself a target on my back.

And as soon as I see them, they see me. Drage soldiers drop from the sky, their metal claws pounding the ice-coated brick of the path.

"Come and get me, you frozen steel-wads!" I scream.

Not exactly the best insult, but I don't do my best work when chased by bloodthirsty hybrid machines.

Unfortunately, they do come and get me. But on the bright side, they don't care about Shay now.

I only hope I can live long enough to keep protecting her. I'm the only one left who can.

I duck and roll, avoiding a blast from one of their stun guns. Another plus: they have to take me alive. I'm no use to them dead.

But another blast hits my shoulder, and I drop and roll into a snowbank.

Damn. My arm.

I drop the loaf of bread. That was all I needed to start. I trade it in for my sword, which felt like tugging along atruck.

It doesn't matter, I'll deal with my shoulder later (if there is a later). Right now, I just need to get out.

And so I run, feet pounding against the snow, so heavy yet barely making a sound.

And when another blast nearly takes out my leg, I know I have to do more than run.

I have to fly.

I bite back a scream as I begin the transformation. The wings push out of my back, reorganizing my bones and muscles to make room for the two new appendages protruding from my back. I've almost mastered the transition, so it almost never hurts, but ever so often, I have bad days.

And today, in every sense of the word, is a bad day.

The pain and confusion of the transition lost me some ground, but I gain it back as soon as I'm in the sky.

In the sky, I barely feel the pain of my dislocated shoulder. I barely feel any pain or fear at all. Even when chased by bloodthirsty machines, the thrill of flying never gets old.

I risk a glance back.

By the frost, they're close. Too close.

My fist tightens around my sword.

I can't run anymore. I don't have the endurance. If I had a proper diet, I could maybe go a little further, but... they're machines. They don't get tired. And these past few weeks have been rough. I've been giving most of the food to Shay. Once, I almost ate the snow, even though I know that's suicide. I'm two steps away from starving.

I can't keep going like this.

I force myself to coast to a stop. Gripping my sword with both hands, I face the gang of Drages, faking a brave face.

Shana, I'm so sorry...

"Come here, you frost-bitten fuckwads!"

Not much better than "frozen steel-wads," but it'll have to do.

Will these be my last words?

Is this how the world will remember me?

A freakish mutation turned theif?

Will any of them ever know about my sister?

Will anyone ever know that I did it all for her?

It doesn't matter. The last three years were a waste. If I die, Shay will die too. It's only a matter of time. My whole life was a waste.

Even at birth. Was my life worth my mother's death? She died giving birth to me and Shay. One of us is a lowlife criminal and the other is sick and dying. Were we worth it?

And Dad...

My tears freeze before they hit the snow. I barely notice.

The Drages are here.

There's at least a dozen of them, probably closer to two, and all of them carry spears.

But still, I hold my sword.

"Come on, grease breathers!"

Better. I guess being on my deathbed makes some great insults. Too bad I won't live to share them.

I let my training do the work. Rioki taught me well. The first thing she taught me was how to hold a sword. She taught me everything.

And now, I'll take down as many of these bastards as I can. They're coming with me.

Into hell.

They might be part machine, but they're not invincible. And I made this sword myself. Out of Cryonium. It'll cut anything.

And so it punches through their steel skin like it's butter.

I twist it and stab behind me, nailing a Drage in the gut. It screeches and slashes out with its claws as it falls to the floor, black oil trailing behind it.

It stains the floor gray as it lands. Only when I see red mixing with the black that I realize the Drage isn't the only one bleeding.

He got me. The fucker got me.

I wasn't expecting to get out of this alive, but as my wings take me to the ground before shrinking back into nothing, I realize that I was naive. Just for a moment... I thought... I hoped... I could at least save my sister. At least make my life mean something.

But as I bleed out, I realize that was stupid. Shana is beyond help. No one ever recovers from Ice Fever. These last few years, I've been pretending... but it means nothing. I'll die, and with it, the last hope for her survival. Will Rioki even miss me? Or will she move on to a new apprentice, a new outlaw, a new soldier in the war against the Order?

A shadow flits across my blurring vision. A Drage, come to finish the job. The machine will cut off my head and bring it back to the commander of the Order and say "we tried."

And then, the disappointed but not defeated Order will go looking for some other poor ass to hunt down.

And no one will ever think of me again.

But that final swipe doesn't come. Instead, my body burns.

I scream in agony as I writhe in the snow. But... I'm alive. And I can move. Whatever that burning was, it healed me. I'm in pain, but alive. Unhurt.

I stand up, and am face to face with a Dragon.

Holy shit. A real dragon. They haven't been seen in... centuries. At least. They were destroyed in the Great Winter.

I bow. I don't really know what else to do, but this mythical creature of awesomeness just saved my life. I have to do something.

The Dragon nudges my head with a huff.

I stand up and admire him. His red scales shine golden amber, and the snow under his feet steams and melts.

Even standing a few feet away, I can feel the warmth radiating from his scales.

A Dragon. A real life, living, breathing, goddamn Dragon. Here. And he... she, I realize, getting my first good view of her underbelly... she just saved my life.

One of the Drages barrels towards her. I call out in warning, but she doesn't even flinch.

And as the Drage hits her, his leathery wings catch fire, and his steel melts. The Drages were built to withstand cold... but not heat.

"Uh... Miss Dragon?"

The Dragon looks at me with something like amusement shining in its deep red eyes.

"Can you save my sister? She's got the Ice Fever. Uh, do you know what the Ice Fever is? I bet you do. Uh—"

The dragons huffs again, almost saying "Of course I know, you foolish mortal."

She launches into the air and looks at me expectantly.

"Uh, right, okay." I barely even wince as my wings come out. Looks like my luck has turned in the right direction.

As we fly towards my sister, no one, not Drages, nor anyone else, bothers to challenge me. No one is stupid enough to attack a dragon. Not even the Order.

"Shay?" I ask, crouching under the scrap of fallen roof. A ruin from the Great Winter, it made a nice warm cover for us. For her.

A loud cough tells me she's still alive.

"Shay, you gotta see this. Come on." Gently, I manuever her out from under the roof. The Ice Fever has taken a toll on her body. She's painfully thin and small. But now... maybe... her suffering can end. Her illness can be cured.

When she sees the dragon, her eyes widen in childlike delight, and I imagine mine look similar. The dragon huffs, sending a warm mist towards us.

Her recovery seems much less painful than mine. She doesn't writhe around screaming. But she's a tough girl, tougher than me, so maybe she just handles it better.

And then, for the first time in three years, she stands up. On her own. She looks at the dragon and smiles, a real smile, bright enough to melt all the snow in Cryptonia.

"Thank you," she says, and her voice doesn't shake or tremble. She doesn't cough. She's been cured of the uncurable.

A crowd has gathered, and all of them gape at Shay and me, but they mostly look at the Dragon.

She tilts her head back and roars, tendrils of flame shooting in the sky. Heat. Warmth. Power.

The Ice Kingdom is about to get a whole lot less icy.

The Dragon seems to read the question in my eyes: Will you help us? Will you save us?

She looks down on me, her red eyes impossibly kind, and she almost seems to smile.

I feel warmth creeping into my hands. As I stare at them, my fingertips burst into flame.

Oh my frost. She gave me fire powers.

No one in the city is going to be cold anymore, not if I can help it.

And when I look at the dragon in thanks, I hear her voice clearly in my head.

No, Child. I will not save you. You can save yourselves.