text: Tam opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. It was a blue and windless day, and not a cloud could be seen. A peaceful day, by all means. Yet she felt anything but at peace. She stood up and turned her eyes towards the horizon. There she could see an eagle flying in the distance. It flew and flew until it was but a small speck. She sighed and wished she too could disappear. “Your duty is an important one,” Uncle Haversian said. He was in charge of her lessons, as well as that of the other children who had been chosen. They were progressing consistently. Tam still could not breathe a wisp of flame. All that came out of her mouth was hot air. And spit. Lots of spit. “Feel it,” he said. “Feel the Eternal Flame flowing through your body, giving you life.” “But I don’t feel anything,” she said, frustrated. “I don’t feel anything when I concentrate,” she said, sitting down to catch her breath, her chest heaving up and down from the effort she’d been putting out for the last hour, breathing hard on the wood as if trying to blow out a stubborn candle. Except she was supposed to light the wood on fire, and hers was giving off nothing but black smoke. Lily’s on her right was fully aflame, and the child sat cross-legged in front of it, silently perusing the fire’s depths with her unreadable blue eyes. It was unusual for a Dragoneer child's transformation to start off with the blue eyes, but Lily was an exception. One day she'd woken up and her brown eyes were blue, just like that. The flame she now conjured was the same color as her arms, which were covered with silver scales. Like Tam, she had angry red rashes where human skin still battled with her inevitable fate--that of becoming a full-on dragon by the time many centuries had passed. Children with ascalienation grew--and then stopped growing. Instead of growing older, shriveling up, and dying, they stayed at the pinnacle of human adulthood for much longer, and then eventually became something not human. Was the pain, the constant burn and itch that the child went through as it transformed, worth the longevity? Some said yes, some said no. But unlike Tam, Lily did not make faces or cry at the pain of her affliction. Her face was always calm and unreadable, so much so that Tam sometimes wondered whether her peer was really a human at all. After all, the higher you fly, the harder you fall, people said around these parts. Everything that came with the prestige of being a Dragoneer, rank, power, wealth, fame, comfort. It would all be forgotten when one became a beast. Once Tam had been playing hide and seek, hiding from her toddler brother, when she heard the sound of men approaching the room. She hastily crawled under a table cover and sat there, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. “Did you deal with it?” a voice said, hard and cool as steel. Her father. “Yes, my lord,” the other man said. “Did anyone else see? “No my lord.” “Did you make sure?” “I scouted the area personally. There was no one.” “Good.” When they left the room, she’d seen the artifact lying on the table. A dragon’s head. Its neck was lined with dried blood, and the eyes were an electrifying, ice-blue. Just like Lily’s eyes, just like Tam’s eyes would become. She solemnly stared at it for a few seconds, and then slowly raised a finger and touched it. Then she’d run from the room. Sometimes she wondered if it had begun then. She'd woken up a week later with her first scale, a small pearlescent spot on her arm. Everyone knew it wasn't contagious but maybe she hadn't been "chosen" as was commonly believed, but instead punished for snooping around where she did not belong. “Daydreaming again, Tam?” Uncle Haversian said. She jolted out of her reverie and turned to him. “Sorry Uncle,” she said. He guided her hand towards the wood, and clasped her hand around it. “Feel it,” he said. “You need to feel the substance, know it, before you can affect it.” She ran her hands across the wood, feeling Lily’s eyes on her, unreadable in their silence. “No one is judging you right now,” her uncle said, sensing her wandering thoughts. “Just breathe and let the eternal Flame guide you.” She held her breath, and then let it out, quickly, disappointingly. “I feel nothing,” she said blankly. “It’s alright,” her Uncle sighed. “Go and rest, you’ve tried the most you can. Maybe--” He shook his head and smiled, choosing not to finish. “Don’t worry Tam. No matter what, you’ve got a good future ahead of you.” He meant no matter what happened after the ritual today, she wouldn’t be less than a princess. The others who failed would not be so lucky. Ascalienation gave you the chance to become a valued member of the Lunaris Legion, the elite army of the Astral Kingdom, but it did not guarantee it. Every year, a few failures would be shuttled away, and they would eventually get the hang of fire breathing by the year after. But they would not go off to fight the enemies of the kingdom. They'd just be stuck back at home, performing guard duties around the palace and homeland. Lower ranked, and lower regarded. Overall dismissed. But Tam would always at least have the rank of the noble family to hide behind. Tam nodded and walked away. She walked away from the patch of forest in the back of the castle where lessons were taught and towards the castle itself. At the entrance of the forest, a small spring bubbled and glittered. Above the spring, a statue of a woman rested, holding a baby upon her lap. A simple stone arch hovered over them, which together with the large rock behind protected them from the wind and rain. Water flowed from eyes into the spring, and her smile brought tranquility to all who came to gaze upon her. This was the Spring of Sylvan, said to hold the tears of Sylvan, the mother of Lunaris. It was said that she had willingly sacrificed her firstborn daughter to the Scaled One to save her people, the descendants of which were now Tam’s people. Her sacrifice was said to be the reason only females underwent ascalienation. About one in a hundred were chosen, and it was considered a great honor. Families received gifts, and the children were brought to live at the palace for training. For Tam, where she trained and what she considered home were the same. She thought of the first time she’d been at the Spring. It was customary to bring every newborn child to the Spring by the time it could first walk to bring the child good fortune and health, as the Spring was believed to have blossomed from the tears of Sylvan. She was lifted up by Mother onto her lap, and then Mother brought up a silver spoon, and lifted the spring water to Tam’s lips. She felt big, fat droplets dribble over her lips and gasped, this magical substance felt so cool in the hot sunlight. She splashed her hands in the spring and laughed, seeing the light dance in the limpid pool. That was before she had developed her first scales. That was before she had turned out to be a disappointment. Mother never said it--it was an honor to be chosen as a Dragoneer, chosen to serve one's kingdom--but Tam knew Mother had never wanted it, just wanted a beautiful little girl to pamper and dress up. The day Tam had been Chosen was the day she could remember Mother's crestfallen face, as that hope was taken away. And then Little Brother had been born and Mother had transferred her affections on to her new little brother. Tam never said anything, but it hurt. Tam turned her eyes away and walked faster, wanting to shut that chapter of her life behind her. A chapter in which she had been destined for a life of beauty and ease. Suddenly she was roughly pushed forward. She put her hands out and fell into the mud. There was the sound of laughter. She turned and saw the other Scaley children of her class. They looked at her with a variety of physical deformities. Ada had a forked tongue that flickered in and out of his mouth. Eva grinned, revealing teeth each as sharp as daggers. And in front of the gang stood Lily. Lily, the only one already with the ice-blue eyes, her figure otherwise just as moderately scaled and humanoid as the others, although a bit slimmer and taller than the average 14-year old. She came from a peasant family, but with her regal stature and calm bearing, she did not seem like one. “Powerless,” she said, looking down at Tam. Her voice was as tranquil as her face. Tam said nothing to the most promising Dragoneer of her generation. Lily nodded, and the other two grabbed Tam and held her. “What’s so special about you?” Lily wondered, coming closer, staring through Tam with her entrancing eyes, the pupils black slits. “Let’s see.” She closed her eyes and whispered a few words. Suddenly it felt like slimy tentacles were worming themselves into her ears, into her brain. She felt as if she had been plunged deep underwater, and all sight and sound were muffled. She gazed in stupor as memories were picked from her--running from her birth to the time she peed herself in the grand hall, to the one time when she was 4 and fell down cold stone steps, and screamed in pain and cried for her Mother, to the day she'd been Chosen, and sobbed all night. “Pitiful,” Lily said, letting go mentally. Tam fell to the ground as the tentacles relaxed their grasp. “We’re not supposed to use the Words yet,” she gasped. After their lessons in fire breathing would come instruction in the use of the Ancient Words, she knew that much from Uncle Haversian, but it was intended for the more advanced Dragoneers as it was a dangerous and often double-sided art. “Rules are for the weak,” Lily said. “Are you weak, Tam? Is that why you cry?” "I do not cry," Tam snapped, fighting back the growing moisture in her eyes. Ada and Eva dropped her, and she fell back onto the muddy ground, making a splash. The water burned where her scaly skin joined normal skin on her wrist in an angry red rash, and she struggled not to react. She blinked rapidly, but it was no use. Cry she did, and stop she could not. Suddenly she felt an immense rage. She was the princess of Astra, daughter with noble blood, and yet here stood this commoner, always better than her in everything. She screamed and blew fire with all her might, but again, all that came out was hot air. “You...you flame-pisser!” She said the naughtiest word she knew that wasn’t quite naughty. “Flame pisser?” Ada laughed, her tail whipping back and forth. "That all you can manage? What’s the matter? Can't cuss, *Princess*?" "It’s not ladylike," Eva grinned. "She thinks she's better than us. Even though she can't shit out a single flame. Noble little prick." She spit on the ground at Tam. “Pain is part of the power,” Lily said, looking hard at Tam. “Don’t give in to it, use it.” “Use this,” Tam finally snapped, flashing the middle finger. She didn't know what it meant but she'd seen a servant using it once. The others ooh-ed and laughed, started forward, but Lily shook her head at them to stop and turned back to Tam. "Get up," Lily said. Tam's arms felt like they were on fire, and when she gingerly put them down to push herself up, needles shot up them again and she took a sharp breath in, falling back on the ground. She gave up and sat there. Lily did not laugh, like the others, and now she sighed. “If you don't use the pain, it will use you,” Lily said. Then she turned and left. The other two flicked their tongues, then they too turned and followed. Long silver tails shimmered at the base of their elongated, curved spines, mottled with bumps and bony spikes still forming. Tam turned back and stared at the mud. Pity. A common peasant had shown her pity. Somehow that was even worse than the bullying. Then she pushed herself up, grimacing and crying out with this final effort, and entered the castle. **Visiting Stonina** Before going to her chamber, Tam passed by the courtyard. Inside the courtyard, long rows of green grasses swayed gently in the afternoon sun. On the far end stood several pagodas housing bird cages. She walked towards them. Usually she would admire the deep red of the delicate maples that grew star-shaped leaves as big as coins, but today she was too dejected for that. She crossed a bridge that arched over a small stream, till she reached the cages. She passed singing yellow canaries, squawking green parrots, and lively peacocks pecking at seeds around her feet. At the end stood a lone cage, in which a raven quietly sat, inspecting her with a beady black eye. Tam called her Stonina because she liked picking up stones in her beak. Tam often brought her smooth, colored, marbled and otherwise unusual stones and Stonina would carefully accept them and add them to her collection of stones in the middle of the cage. “Hello Stonina,” she murmured, offering the raven a walnut that she always kept stowed away in her pocket. “Bwah,” Stonina said, taking the walnut daintily in her beak. She placed it on the floor and pecked at it, chipping away at the nut slowly and methodically. Tam smiled. This was why she liked Stonina especially. Unlike the other birds, who pecked haphazardly and without method at their seeds and grain, and flapped wildly to the other side of the cage when approached, Stonina was slow and measured in her movements. She was careful and observant almost in a human way, and Tam swore she could understand human speech by the way she would sometimes cock her head and stare brightly back at Tam when hearing her talk. “I’m scared,” Tam said to Stonina, as she petted the raven’s head from between the bars. Stonina’s head remained bowed, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the head pets. “If I fail, everyone will know. Mother will be ashamed, and Father will be ashamed, and...” she coughed. “I will be ashamed too.” Tam stopped petting the bird so she could wipe away her tears. Stonina raised her head and looked at the princess. As if to ask, *Why did you stop petting me*? Tam smiled and resumed petting her head. She did this until the sniffling had stopped, and she felt calmer and ready for the evening. **The Ceremony** Tam stood shivering next to the bathtub. The soft robe around her only helped a little--her exposed wrists still burned and she clenched her jaw and started to count back from 100. Her body was unevenly scaled. Where the scales were fully formed, for example up her legs and up her stomach, the pain did not touch. These areas were tough and resistant to cold, like living armor. But where scale touched skin, at her neckline, and at her wrists, the pain lived and breathed like a snake, wrapping around and suffocating her with its presence. She always scratched these borderlines bloody in her sleep, and would wake up with sheets that looked like someone had been murdered in them. At least she had servants to get rid of the evidence, she thought bitterly. The servants began to bathe her, as gently as they could. She held her breath and closed her eyes, as warm water ran over her head and sank into her skin. At first the pain seared like when you accidentally touched metal in the middle of a hot summer day, or got too close to the fire and a spark flew onto your arm. Then it became duller, like a strong grip on the arm, and then it faded to a sinister whisper. She began to breathe easier and opened her eyes, examining the dark shadows that danced around her. She had insisted that the number of candles be kept minimal and far away from her so as not to burn her. But the real reason was that she did not want to see her own reflection in the mirror that stood in front of her. Noble ladies got dressed at the mirror, had their maids put them in beautiful dresses, adorn and pin up their hair, to become symbols of beauty for the court and the people. But she was not a lady. She was a monster, and she could not remember a time she liked looking in that mirror. The servants washed away the soap and grime and then helped her out of the bathtub, and guided her to the mirror. She lowered her gaze and busied herself instead with the jewels adorning the mirror’s bottom, as she raised her hands so that they could pull the dress over her head. The sleeves were long and the neckline high, fully covering her rashy spots. Then they brushed her long black hair and braided it into one simple long tassel draping down her back. “Beautiful,” Mary, one of the maids said. “Look at you, all grown up.” Mary had been with her since she was a little girl. The servant was only five years older than her, but always addressed her with respect. Tam nodded but did not look. “Thank you Mary.” The servants bowed and began to make their way out of the room. "Mary?" Tam said. The girl turned around and came back. Tam waited for the others to leave. "Am I really beautiful? Or do you just say that every evening?" Mary smiled. "I've known you since you were a little girl, my lady. And you've always been kind to me. That in itself is beautiful to me. But yes, you look beautiful. Your eyes are large and expressive. Your chin soft, your nose straight and proud." “But my skin is so...marred,” Tam said. Mary sighed and did something she’d never done before, she gave Tam a hug. “Aye, I know it is painful, your transformation, yes. But maybe that’s a good thing. It teaches you to be beautiful inside.” Tam smiled. "Thank you Mary. I do appreciate your kind words. You may go." "Yes, my lady." Mary curtsied and began to leave the room. As she was going, she paused and turned back. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll do just fine.” “Thank you, Mary,” Tam said. And then Mary left and she was alone. Today’s ceremony was the ultimate test of the Dragoneers, to see if they were worthy of entering the Legion. It was the test of fire, and everyone would be there, both the noble families, her parents, being nobles themselves, and then the head of each peasant family, at the least. But usually there were more, because everyone was curious to see the spectacle of creatures not quite human, not quite beast, who would grow up to defend the kingdom. The thought of so many judgmental eyes terrified her. She tried to calm herself, but her heart fluttered like a bird. There was a knock at the door. Her guard. “Come in,” she said. “Are you ready, my lady?” She was one of the failed Dragoneers herself. Usually she was invisible to Tam, but tonight Tam looked at her tall, adult features, her fully scaled body and long reptilian face and could not help but stare. The guard shrugged. "It's not too bad, you know. All Dragoneers serve a role for the kingdom." Tam nodded and walked forward, her heart rate fast and palpable in her chest. Easy for the guard to say. She wasn't a princess with everyone's eyes on her. Mother already saw her as a failure. She would definitely be there tonight. And Father, and Little Brother, and Uncle Haversian, and everyone she knew and didn’t know. She tried not to turn and run the other way. The guard led her down the stairs, down a dark torch-lit hall to the back of the palace, and out towards the Spring she had passed earlier. In the darkness and the wind she began to see the glow of a thousand candles. A thousand candles held by a thousand guests, dressed in gowns of their finest silk. Peasants wore suits and dresses they’d taken years to save for. Baskets of fireflies hung from tall poles of bamboo at the edges of the hall, giving a warm glow to everyone and everything. In the middle of the room a path lay empty, leading up to the Spring. The other Dragoneer children were already there, a single gap in their line. Tam joined their ranks. She walked up the path and ascended the stairs to the Spring. By the time she was at the top, she thought her heart would burst out of her chest. The priest facing them raised a birch torch, empty and unlit. Birch, white and pure. The sacred tree of Lunaris. “Come forth, Chosen one, and light the Eternal Flame,” he said. Lily, the first in line, took the torch and lit it easily, blowing a small silver wisp onto the branch. She took her torch and moved behind the priest. The priest took another torch and repeated his line. The next Dragoneer came forth and lit her torch, and took her place next to Lily. When it was finally Tam’s turn, she took a deep breath and slowly turned to face the Priestess, whose face was hidden behind the mask of Lunari, the moon dragoness, warrior of the night. She thought of her Uncle’s words, to feel the Eternal Flame, not think it through. But it was hard to do so, when her mind was slowly filling up with thoughts of “what if I fail”, “what if I fail”. She took the torch and stared at it, trying to feel the wood. She thought of feeling. Feeling would take her, trying to feel anything. She thought of Mother. She saw the ghostly white face, pale and beautiful in the moonlight, ever so elegant. She thought of Father and saw the elusive authoritative man, who towered above her and somewhat intimidated her with his stately intelligence. And she felt something. She concentrated. Still the room was silent. She stood there with her face bent over the torch, her heart thudding madly. She felt like she was going to faint. She turned and faced the audience, but didn't look up. "Sorry.” Her small thin word spread out across the crowd and died. She walked back down the stone path past the people, past Lily’s bright, blue eyes and started running, and then kept running faster and didn’t stop until she was out of sight within the palace walls. Her skin burned, and she struggled not to scratch as she walked slowly towards the bird cages. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. She scratched at her elbows, which were beginning to dry and turn scaly again despite the dollops of yarrow oil Mary had applied to her right before the ceremony. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Above the moon hung still and round in a cloudless sky. Myriads of stars clustered in random places as well. “Why can’t I do it?” she asked Lunaris, but the moon dragoness if she was listening remained quiet, like a bright white eye staring down at her accusingly. Tam could already hear Mother's disappointed voice in her ear. *A girl of noble blood, failing the simplest test. What will the people think of the Starfarer family now*? Silently, she offered Stonina a walnut. The raven came and delicately took the treat, and began eating it. "Bwah," she croaked. Tam stroked her head through the cage bars with her other hand, and the raven bowed her head to receive the pets. Some time elapsed, and Tam began to feel quieter. Still stricken but less panicked. “It is not afraid of you,” a strange voice said from behind her. Tam turned and hastily draped her shawl back over her shoulders and arms. “I’m sick,” she warned. “I am not afraid of you either,” the stranger said. “Well, you should be,” she said, turning back to Stonina, but her sudden movement had startled the bird, and she hopped on the further corner of the gilded cage. “Why?” the voice asked, coming closer. “I...I could get you sick too.” Tam threatened. Some believed ascalienation was not a blessing of Lunaris, but a sickness to be caught. Contagious and evil. “I’m sure,” the voice laughed, coming over to inspect the cage. The moonlight revealed a boy, slightly taller than Tam. “Is he friendly?” Tam looked at the boy, scanning his plain sand-colored shorts and cap, the markings of a servant. She turned her attention back to watching Stonina. “Yes. But you have to move slowly. That way she knows your intentions.” “It is a she?” he asked. “”Yes.” “Show me,” the boy said. Tam brought her hand to the door of the cage and opened it. Then she slowly placed her hand in the middle of the cage. At first Stonina fled to the top of the cage. Then she hopped down to her hand, and pecked once lightly on her finger. After cocking her head for a second, she hopped on top of Tam’s palm and let her gently rub her head with the fingers of her other hand. The raven closed her eyes. “She enjoys it,” the boy said. Tam nodded. “So do I.” “I’ve seen you before. In the courtyard with your uncle. You look different.” “Well yes,” Tam said, rolling her eyes. “I am dressed for the ceremony.” “No, I mean when you’re petting her.” “What do you mean?” “You look happy.” She turned, confused. “Is that a good thing?” “I think it’s beautiful,” the boy said. Tam scanned him for sarcasm, but there was none. “The guests are coming out.” the boy said. “I suppose I should go.” He turned to walk away. “Don’t go,” Tam said after a pause. “Stay.” That was the first time Tam talked to Jai.