The human of the dragon prince

The door shuddered under the weight of frantic knocking in the dead of night. Dominico Cruz, with hastening steps, made for the entrance, his eldest son Lotha at his heels. Upon flinging open the door, they were met by the terror-stricken visage of his lifelong comrade, Aldus, who cried out in alarm:

"They're coming, they're coming!"

"Who is coming?" demanded Dominico, his pulse racing

"Florian and his men! His desire for your daughter Esthela has turned to fixation. They are on their way to take her! We must flee; their numbers of men are too great!"

With a voice laced with trepidation, Dominico issued commands to his kin: "Lotha, find Esthela. Escort her to your grandparents' dwelling and ensure her safety!"

Dominico shouts, his voice filled with desperation."Esthela, run! Daughter, you must escape!" "Maurin, Dustin, help her! Anora, aid her!"

In a maelstrom of panic, the family is galvanised into action. Esthela's mother, Anora, swathes her in layers of shawls and ushers her into the courtyard where Lotha is waiting astride his horse. With eyes brimming with tears, Anora embraces Esthela fervently and hands her a satchel packed with hastily chosen essentials. With one final effort, she boosts Esthela onto the horse. The trio of horses bolts, thundering into the night, away from the looming peril.

"You can't stay here," Aldus declared, his voice imbued with determination. "We shall repair to my abode. We'll give them the impression you've departed on one of your customary trading journeys."

Dominico makes sure to place the family sign they employ whenever they set forth on those ventures, and they withdraw to conceal themselves amidst the shrubbery on the far side of their abode. They had barely ensconced themselves when they espied a contingent of knights arriving. These knights, with a heedless vigour, splintered the door as they issued their clamorous edicts.

Foremost among them was Florian, the scion of a knight whose name invoked dread throughout the shire. His eyes had once tarried on Esthela's comeliness during a church service, kindling an inexorable yearning to possess her.

"They must be nearby! They cannot have gone far!" Florian exclaimed, his ire palpable as he cast aside the sign that suggested their absence. "They haven't departed; I am certain! Seek them out! Esthela will be mine!"

"They are wont to do this, Florian," one of the knights tried to assure him. "They abscond for days seeking wares and are oft delayed in their return. Upon their homecoming, the maiden shall be yours."

"They have not left! We've been betrayed," Florian insisted, gesturing towards a servant roused by the tumult. "Where are your masters and Miss Esthela? Speak truthfully, lest you desire to be beheaded."

"They embarked on a journey, sir," the elderly servant responded, his understanding of the peril clear upon sight of the toppled sign.

"On a trip? When? I saw them at Mass not long ago; they cannot possibly have left!"

Florian was beside himself with fury, struggling to come to terms with the fact that Esthela's visage was unmarred, contrary to the disfigurement he had imagined for so many years. The old servant, fully cognisant of the grim fate that would befall Esthela should he disclose her location, steadfastly maintained his invented account.

"They departed this very night, as is their wont when embarking on their trading ventures. They attend Mass to beseech the Lord's safeguarding before setting forth."

"And whither are they bound?" Florian pressed.

"To the kingdom," the servant answered. "As for Esthela, whispers abound that she is to be betrothed to a duchess as a lady-in-waiting."

"A duchess? Which duchess?" The question erupted from Florian, his rage reaching a fever pitch. "No, this shall not pass! Esthela is mine by right! We must give chase; they will not have travelled far! Set everything ablaze!"

"Pray, sir, show mercy!" the servant implored, his plea falling on deaf ears as Florian summarily executed him with a swift, brutal arc of his sword.

Florian's men, having set Esthela's house ablaze, galloped away at breakneck speed. As Esthela's parents dashed outside in a futile attempt to salvage their possessions, they were seemingly slain by Florian's guards who were in fervent pursuit along the same route that Esthela and her siblings had taken. The clamour of their pursuers intensified.

"Lotha, we cannot leave her with our grandparents; they will find her. They have hounds," Maurin implored with urgency.

"They are drawing nearer; their steeds outpace ours," Dustin chimed in, his voice laden with fear as he spurred his mount onwards. "What shall we do, Lotha?"

Lotha, the eldest sibling, renowned for his gravity and sense of duty, was also blessed with exceptional acumen. He ruminated briefly before steering his horse down a trail leading to a secluded cabin.

"Lotha?" Maurin's voice rose in a plea for direction.

"It is our sole option. I am aware of an isolated cabin, ensconced deep within the wilderness. It is beyond discovery. We shall rotate in attending to her needs. Esthela, harbour no fear. I shall not permit Florian to apprehend you, that merciless enchanter. At the earliest opportunity, I vow to end him!"

The pursuers were drawing nearer, and though they were reluctant to enter the foreboding, narrow path shrouded in darkness and whispered fears, they pressed on into the virgin, dense forest. Few had the temerity to tread such grounds, deterred by harrowing tales of creatures that feasted on human flesh, but they chose that path nonetheless.

"Do not fear, brothers," Esthela's voice emerged clear and resolute. "I would confront those fabled beasts a thousandfold rather than succumb to Florian's clutches. I am convinced they are naught but legends."

With no trace of hesitation, even as their horses balked and recoiled from the forest's threshold, they urged their mounts forward with unwavering resolve. The hounds of their pursuers, keen and unrelenting, picked up their scent and narrowed the gap.

"We shall lead them astray, sister. Make your escape and follow this track until you reach a river. Proceed northwards, and you will find a cabin. It is a relic of a hunter long since passed. He was the one who introduced me to this place in my youth; hence my knowledge of it. Therein lies your sanctuary. Refrain from venturing out or roaming the woods until we can return for you, understood?"

"Let us not part ways!" Esthela implored. "Florian will not spare any of you, my brothers! He is a brute!"

"No, we cannot. Their steeds outmatch ours. We must endeavour to elude them whilst you seek refuge," her elder brother Lotha stated with unwavering resolve. "Flee, Esthela. Do not render our sacrifices futile. Go! Never allow Florian to ensnare you. You are well aware of his capabilities and the fate that awaits you at his hands!"

Without a moment's delay, he struck Esthela's horse, prompting it to bolt as they veered the pursuers onto a divergent trail, striving to shield their cherished sister from peril. Esthela pressed on, her grip tight on the saddle amidst the enveloping gloom, when suddenly, harrowing screams rent the air, as though a savage beast had launched an attack. Seized by dread, she cast a fleeting glance over her shoulder, her verdant eyes slicing through the night's veil, only to be met with the sinister gleam of crimson eyes.

Consumed by terror, she resisted the urge to investigate and persisted through the darkness, emerging unharmed at the hut come dawn. Situated atop a rise with a commanding view of a river below, she forded the stream and alighted from her steed, her gaze darting anxiously about to discern whether her brothers might yet appear.

The cabin, constructed from robust logs, comprised a solitary chamber. A grand fireplace held court in the centre, while a substantial bed claimed one corner. A shiver coursed down Esthela's spine as her gaze fell upon a pair of boots tucked away in another corner. Her fear was nigh on paralysing, yet she stemmed the tide of tears, realising with a sinking heart that her brothers were absent. What fate had befallen them? Were they ensnared by Florian’s grasp? The village was rife with ominous whispers of his and his father’s deeds. And her parents – had they eluded his fury, or had they succumbed?

These thoughts plagued Esthela as she lingered in the threshold of the cabin, when abruptly, a vast shadow, akin to an immense bird, flitted across the floor before her. She cast her eyes skyward but discerned nothing. What manner of creature could cast such a silhouette? Besieged by dread, she stepped within and fastened the door with a robust timber reserved for dire contingencies. Huddled in the corner nearest the hearth, she waited with bated breath, hoping against hope for her brothers' return.

Could the myriad tales and legends that abounded in the village hold a kernel of truth? They spoke of this realm as one inhabited by colossal dragons and sundry otherworldly entities that preyed upon humankind. What recourse would she have if such tales bore fruit, here in her solitary refuge?

The Prince of Dragons, Erick, was perched upon the railing of the grand imperial palace in the Dragon Kingdom. His father, Emperor Kendrick, had expressly forbidden him from crossing the palace boundaries due to turmoil stirring in the lowlands. Animosity festered in the heart of Erick's uncle, Baduf, who coveted the throne for his offspring, Torsten. Baduf was of the firm belief that Erick was ill-suited to inherit the mantle of leadership, for he seemed more enchanted by the realm of humans than that of dragons.

"My prince, upon what do your thoughts so intently dwell?" Oryun, not only Erick's confidant but also his prospective advisor, posed the question. "You appear rather detached. Is there a matter that troubles you?"

"I have been subjected to an entire morning of tedious lectures delivered by your father, the esteemed counsellor," Prince Erick retorted. "And now my own sire has decreed that he should school me in the la