Zoey’s eyes burned a searing blue as she overlooked the lifeless body of a great black dragon lying in the snow. From atop a hill, she could still see her shield embedded in the belly of the dragon, though the wind kept whipping thin curls of hair across her view. Drawing a pattern into the air with her hand, the blue flames running through her forearm and over the blade of her claymore extinguished. She slid the weapon into a long sheath across her back. The blue faded from her eyes and she winced upon brushing a gloved hand over a cut across her thigh. From a pack on her hip, she retrieved a bottle of red liquid and took a long drink, the sweet taste of the potion raising her spirits and causing skin to grow over the wound within seconds.
Pushing through snow covered bushes made of thorns and strangle weed, she entered a clearing with a makeshift altar made of scrap wood surrounded by skulls and bones. A dozen burning candles sat on the altar leaking red wax beneath a smooth glass orb hovering in midair, glowing purple in the center of the darkened forest.
“Graham, you can come out now,” Zoey said.
Her brother, pale skinned and thin, stepped into the clearing from behind a pine tree.
“Can you check for traps?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said.
He flicked open a small ornate box and removed a colored glass lens, dropping it into a mechanical fixture over his left eye. For a time, he fiddled with a set of miniature levers on the side of the fixture and began surveying the area.
“Aha. A curse trap on the altar.”
“Is it bad?”
“Wouldn’t be called a curse if it was good.”
She nodded, “Can you disable it?”
“I can but only for a time. I need you to grab the orb.”
“Just tell me when,” she said.
Graham flicked the fixture upwards away from his eye, smiled, and winked at her. He snapped his fingers and disappeared entirely. She watched as footprints, as if made by some ghostly presence, appeared in the snow leading towards the orb.
“Ready?” he said, his voice now near the altar.
“Ready,” she replied.
Zoey heard a soft click followed by a hum.
“Take it!”
She reached out and pulled the orb toward her, its purple glow reflecting off her armor and casting light across the surrounding trees. She held it for a moment, waiting for the pain of a curse that never came.
The hum stopped and Graham reappeared near the altar.
“Let me see!” he said.
“No, it’s mine.”
“C’mon.”
“Alright Zoey, let your brother hold the orb,” a woman’s voice said.
From between the trees, Zoey and Graham’s parents stepped out of the shadows. Her mother was wrapped in a red robe and two knotted braids ran down her shoulders. Her father, short and stout with a big nose over a thick mustache, held a great hammer in his dwarven hands.
“But mom, I found it!” Zoey replied.
“Zo, listen to your mother,” her dad said.
“Ugh, fine,” Zoey said and handed the orb to a smiling Graham.
While Graham inspected the orb with a different colored lens, Zoey drew another pattern into the air, and her eyes began to glow. Yellow sparks swirled around her arm and the shield she left in the dragon crashed through the trees, cutting tree limbs and loosening snow from the treetops. The shield snapped firmly into place on her bracer, and her eyes returned to normal.
“It’s a key!” Graham exclaimed. “We can use it to open the door to the celestial caverns.”
“Of course!” Zoey said and smiled at Graham. “Thanks, for disarming the trap I mean.”
Graham pushed his chair away from the dining table and walked over to Zoey. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned on her for a moment.
“Look,” dad whispered to mom, a smile on their faces.
“Thanks, for stopping the dragon I mean,” Graham said.
They all laughed, and he returned to his seat at the table.
“How about you hold onto the orb for now?” Zoey asked. “My pack is full.”
“Sure,” he said, picking up a pencil and pushing a set of dice out of the way before scribbling ‘Dragon’s Orb’ onto the character sheet sitting in front of him.
Zoey reached out and grabbed her pouch of fruit punch. She sucked the sweet, red juice through a thin straw while watching the snow continue to fall outside the kitchen window.
“Dad?” Zoey said.
“Yeah, Zo?”
“I love snow days.”
