She was no longer seated but standing. She opened her eyes and blinked twice. She was in a vast meadow, nothing but grass surrounding her. Lillie was in front of her. “Lillie,” Nari said, “I don’t understand why you, of all people, would oppose opening the egg.” “How can you be so sure it is a dragon’s egg?” replied her friend. “If you at least told me more about how it got into your hands...” Nari considered doing so. But she had promised. Also, although they appeared to be alone in the meadow, she knew the wizards in the White Chamber could see and hear everything. “I can't,” she admitted, sorrowful. “I understand you want to know but I am just asking you to have faith in me. Will you?” Lillie would have none of it. She conjured a strong gale that lifted her from the ground. “Everything is said, then.” Before Nari could react, Lillie's wind lifted rocks from the ground and threw them towards Nari, who quickly summoned her own gust of air to create a shield around her. “Why won't you listen to me?” she pleaded. “You have always said dragons existed. How could you change your mind like that?” But her friend didn't respond. She looked at her with piercing blue eyes. The ground trembled and fractured, and pools of lava emerged from its depths. Nari ordered her wind to lift her to safety. Above their heads, dark clouds were forming from the smoke rising from the fire. The clouds began to rumble with thunder. “I don’t want to fight you, Lillie,” Nari shouted. “Think about how much we can learn by opening the egg. Why do you deny us that knowledge? Are you afraid of it?” Lillie raised her palm upwards and a bolt of lightning flew from the clouds to her hand. With a flick of her fingers, the lightning bolt flashed towards Nari, who quickly conjured a large wall of stone which emerged in front of her. The sound of the electricity hitting the rocks was deafening. “Behind me,” Nari gasped, suddenly noticing Lillie’s presence. She tried to extend the wall around her but it was too late. Lillie sent a second lightning bolt that hit Nari, who lost her concentration, causing the protective wall and wind around her to disappear. The pain was crippling. Nari was lying on the ground, unable to move. Since when was Lillie so powerful? To conjure a second lightning bolt so quickly and powerfully… Electricity was one of the most difficult elements to control. Lillie should be exhausted by now but there she was, standing proudly in front of her. “Rise,” Lillie ordered. “I am not done with you.” Nari forced her arms to lift her. Seeing her, Lillie smiled cruelly and sneered. “Here, let me help.” And a gust of wind blew Nari up and up, like a ragdoll, only to throw her down. This time she coughed up blood when she hit the ground. In the White Chamber her body, still seated on the chair, convulsed. A trickle of blood dripped from her gasping, half-open mouth. The drops fell to the floor, leaving scarlet dots on the white marble. What happened in a mind duel was not real, injuries were never supposed to affect the body. Only in very serious duels, where there was a real intent to kill, would the mind be sufficiently weakened for the body to believe it was real. Nari felt weak. Lillie kneeled beside her and clutched her black hair. Pulling hard, she lifted Nari’s face to look at her. Nari had seen those gentle blue eyes thousands of times. She remembered every one of those times, even the first: arriving in the famous wizard city, just a child hiding behind her mother’s skirts, and the little neighbour girl coming to greet them. She loved her as much as if she were family, and that warm gaze, like the ocean, had always made her feel that the feeling was mutual. Lillie’s eyes were warm no more. They were now like two icy pools, empty of any feeling. Nari could not understand what could have changed her friend that much. “I am not asking again, wizard,” Lillie said, pulling harder, making Nari scream. “And this time you will tell me.” Nari could feel her resolve weakening. Part of her mind pleaded with her to do whatever Lillie asked to end the duel and make the pain stop. A strong kick struck her stomach, making her gasp for air. “Where did you find the egg?” Nari opened her mouth, but Lillie hadn’t finished her question. “And… where are the other five eggs?” Lillie whispered in her ear. Nari stared at her in disbelief. She hadn’t said anything about the rest of the eggs. She had been extremely careful not to. No one was to know there were six dragon’s eggs in total. Nari’s plan had been to reveal that fact only if, after opening the first one, it was proven that the creature was indeed a dragon. How? How could Lillie have known that? Nari had to concentrate on the duel now. Without moving an inch, she focused all her magic in her palm, which was resting against the rock, and sent an imperceptible pulse. Lillie had let her go. “I see you are not speaking. So…” But before she could continue, the ground beneath Lillie cracked and strong bindweeds crept up her legs and torso and tangled around her arms. Nari stood, her whole body aching. “Why?” she asked her childhood friend. “Why are you so fixated on this? If you had asked me, we could have opened it together.” Lillie started laughing. “Oh, what an honour!” she scoffed. “To think I could assist the great sorceress Nari! It is always about you, isn’t it?” “What do you mean?” Lillie rolled her eyes. “I am so tired,” she said angrily, “of having to follow you around and listen to your boring life…” Nari stood frozen while Lillie continued her rant. “You think you are so intelligent, so special. Everybody loves Nari, the smart and talented one. Well, guess what, I don’t. In fact I can’t stand you!” “Are you joking?” asked Nari. “We are friends, we always have been.” “Have we now? The only reason I have been hanging around you is because you were so pitiful.” Nari shook her head in disbelief. “I am sorry you think that way,” she said, “but if it is true, you are truly twisted.” At this, her friend laughed even louder. “Me? Twisted?”, she cried, suddenly serious. “The only one twisted here is you. Oh yes, let’s be friends! But when it’s convenient, you have no problem letting go. You are so self-centred. You know what? This so-called friendship of ours… ends today.” Suddenly Nari’s weeds started withering and Lillie broke free. Nari tried to summon more plants but Lillie was already there, pushing her with magic. Nari was able to dodge it but, before she could launch a counterattack, she was disabled by a coughing fit. “Oh dear, not feeling well?” asked Lillie sarcastically. Nari wanted to reply but she realised with horror that she was not able to speak. “Has the cat got your tongue?” Nari put her hand to her neck. It hurt terribly. Her ears were ringing loudly and her lips started turning blue. Her knees gave way and she fell to the ground. She could feel all the energy fleeing from her body. Her mind was clouding over. She could not move. She could not think. She. Could. Not. Breathe. In the White Chamber, Lillie had risen from her seat and was standing in front of Nari. She had taken Nari’s neck with both hands and, while muttering a forbidden spell, she was strangling her. Her voice was dark, almost as if it didn’t come from her. No one had noticed, for all the wizards had their eyes closed and were chanting the spell that allowed them to see what was happening in the mind duel. “What in your simple and sorry existence made you think you could measure up against me?” whispered Lillie, and her image in the mind duel did the same. “I see you are not going to talk, so I will dispose of you and destroy the egg myself.” “Stop it,” Nari thought, desperately grasping at her neck as if she could find what was hurting it. She knew she had only a few seconds before she would lose consciousness completely. Her eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier, and eventually drooped closed. The wizards opened their eyes at once. Nari was lying on the floor of the White Chamber. Her face rested on top of a small pool of blood. Her neck and face were bruised and covered in nail marks. She looked dead. Lillie was standing beside her, grinning. She turned to face the eldest, who was still holding the dragon’s egg. “Wizard,” she said, “you will give that egg to me.” The old man’s voice roared with anger. “What have you done!?” Lillie looked at Nari, lying lifelessly on the floor. “I just took care of an inconvenience,” she replied cruelly. “If you wish to avoid her fate you will do as I command.” She took a step towards him, but soon the rest of the wizards surrounded her. One of them approached Nari and gently caressed her cheek, fearing the worst. Nari’s skin was warm and her pulse, although weak, was there. The wizard shook her gently and the young girl moaned softly. She was alive. Nari opened her eyes. It took her a few seconds to realize she was no longer in the mind duel. She gasped for air once more and oxygen flowed inside her. She rolled onto her side. All of the members of the council were standing between her and Lillie. “You meddling wizards!” screamed Lillie. “Hand me the egg!” They were still chanting but the words were different now, and Nari recognised it as the spell of Oblivion. All sorcerers in the White Chamber learned that spell when they first joined the council, but she had never had to use it. It was meant to seal another wizard’s magic. It was used only on traitors. Lillie looked as if she wanted to bite their heads off. Nari had never seen so much rage in her friend’s face. No doubt she had recognised their spell. She muttered a couple of words and dark flames appeared at her feet, gently leaping towards her, as if caressing her legs. “As you wish then. Your foolish organisation will soon cease to exist and as for you…,” she said, looking at Nari, who was still lying on the floor, pale-faced. “Can you feel the darkness creeping inside you?” Nari swallowed and found it painful, as if her throat was on fire. “The curse will creep down and consume your lungs. Then you will not be able to breathe. The spell I cast on you today shall bring you the most dreadful death.” And with those words the black fire engulfed Lillie, who disappeared in a roar of laughter. The rest of the wizards stopped chanting and surrounded Nari. They examined her but no one knew how to stop the curse Lillie had just put on her. The eldest assessed the purple bruise. It wasn’t a normal mark; a broader ring surrounded her neck and, like the branches of a tree, thinner vein-like bruises crept down towards her chest. He listened to her voice, rougher than usual, and had her open her mouth to examine her throat, which appeared normal. “The curse will be slow before taking full effect,” he concluded. “How much time?” asked Nari The old man shook his head “I do not know for sure. Months. Years. It will depend on your own strength.” Nari flinched. “You should rest,” said the eldest. “Lillie has broken the rules and has tried to murder a member of the Wizardry. She has committed treason and will be hunted down. Let other wizards do it.” Soon it was decided who would leave in pursuit of the traitor. “I don’t think we need to hold another vote to know that it is now imperative you open this egg,” said the man, giving it to her. “Opening it may provide us with a clue as to why all this has happened.” Nari nodded. If she had had any doubts they had now disappeared. It was a dragon’s egg, and Lillie wanted it destroyed. Badly. The eldest wizard dismissed the meeting but, before parting, he whispered in Nari’s ear. “You must hide,” he said. “Tell no one where. And contact me only after you have opened the egg. The fewer people who know where you are, the fewer people will be able to find you and the egg.” Nari was now decided. She had to protect the eggs and try to hatch them.

She was no longer seated but standing. She opened her eyes and blinked twice. She was in a vast meadow, nothing but grass surrounding her. Lillie was in front of her. “Lillie,” Nari said, “I don’t understand why you, of all people, would oppose opening the egg.” “How can you be so sure it is a dragon’s egg?” replied her friend. “If you at least told me more about how it got into your hands...” Nari considered doing so. But she had promised. Also, although they appeared to be alone in the meadow, she knew the wizards in the White Chamber could see and hear everything. “I can't,” she admitted, sorrowful. “I understand you want to know but I am just asking you to have faith in me. Will you?” Lillie would have none of it. She conjured a strong gale that lifted her from the ground. “Everything is said, then.” Before Nari could react, Lillie's wind lifted rocks from the ground and threw them towards Nari, who quickly summoned her own gust of air to create a shield around her. “Why won't you listen to me?” she pleaded. “You have always said dragons existed. How could you change your mind like that?” But her friend didn't respond. She looked at her with piercing blue eyes. The ground trembled and fractured, and pools of lava emerged from its depths. Nari ordered her wind to lift her to safety. Above their heads, dark clouds were forming from the smoke rising from the fire. The clouds began to rumble with thunder. “I don’t want to fight you, Lillie,” Nari shouted. “Think about how much we can learn by opening the egg. Why do you deny us that knowledge? Are you afraid of it?” Lillie raised her palm upwards and a bolt of lightning flew from the clouds to her hand. With a flick of her fingers, the lightning bolt flashed towards Nari, who quickly conjured a large wall of stone which emerged in front of her. The sound of the electricity hitting the rocks was deafening. “Behind me,” Nari gasped, suddenly noticing Lillie’s presence. She tried to extend the wall around her but it was too late. Lillie sent a second lightning bolt that hit Nari, who lost her concentration, causing the protective wall and wind around her to disappear. The pain was crippling. Nari was lying on the ground, unable to move. Since when was Lillie so powerful? To conjure a second lightning bolt so quickly and powerfully… Electricity was one of the most difficult elements to control. Lillie should be exhausted by now but there she was, standing proudly in front of her. “Rise,” Lillie ordered. “I am not done with you.” Nari forced her arms to lift her. Seeing her, Lillie smiled cruelly and sneered. “Here, let me help.” And a gust of wind blew Nari up and up, like a ragdoll, only to throw her down. This time she coughed up blood when she hit the ground. In the White Chamber her body, still seated on the chair, convulsed. A trickle of blood dripped from her gasping, half-open mouth. The drops fell to the floor, leaving scarlet dots on the white marble. What happened in a mind duel was not real, injuries were never supposed to affect the body. Only in very serious duels, where there was a real intent to kill, would the mind be sufficiently weakened for the body to believe it was real. Nari felt weak. Lillie kneeled beside her and clutched her black hair. Pulling hard, she lifted Nari’s face to look at her. Nari had seen those gentle blue eyes thousands of times. She remembered every one of those times, even the first: arriving in the famous wizard city, just a child hiding behind her mother’s skirts, and the little neighbour girl coming to greet them. She loved her as much as if she were family, and that warm gaze, like the ocean, had always made her feel that the feeling was mutual. Lillie’s eyes were warm no more. They were now like two icy pools, empty of any feeling. Nari could not understand what could have changed her friend that much. “I am not asking again, wizard,” Lillie said, pulling harder, making Nari scream. “And this time you will tell me.” Nari could feel her resolve weakening. Part of her mind pleaded with her to do whatever Lillie asked to end the duel and make the pain stop. A strong kick struck her stomach, making her gasp for air. “Where did you find the egg?” Nari opened her mouth, but Lillie hadn’t finished her question. “And… where are the other five eggs?” Lillie whispered in her ear. Nari stared at her in disbelief. She hadn’t said anything about the rest of the eggs. She had been extremely careful not to. No one was to know there were six dragon’s eggs in total. Nari’s plan had been to reveal that fact only if, after opening the first one, it was proven that the creature was indeed a dragon. How? How could Lillie have known that? Nari had to concentrate on the duel now. Without moving an inch, she focused all her magic in her palm, which was resting against the rock, and sent an imperceptible pulse. Lillie had let her go. “I see you are not speaking. So…” But before she could continue, the ground beneath Lillie cracked and strong bindweeds crept up her legs and torso and tangled around her arms. Nari stood, her whole body aching. “Why?” she asked her childhood friend. “Why are you so fixated on this? If you had asked me, we could have opened it together.” Lillie started laughing. “Oh, what an honour!” she scoffed. “To think I could assist the great sorceress Nari! It is always about you, isn’t it?” “What do you mean?” Lillie rolled her eyes. “I am so tired,” she said angrily, “of having to follow you around and listen to your boring life…” Nari stood frozen while Lillie continued her rant. “You think you are so intelligent, so special. Everybody loves Nari, the smart and talented one. Well, guess what, I don’t. In fact I can’t stand you!” “Are you joking?” asked Nari. “We are friends, we always have been.” “Have we now? The only reason I have been hanging around you is because you were so pitiful.” Nari shook her head in disbelief. “I am sorry you think that way,” she said, “but if it is true, you are truly twisted.” At this, her friend laughed even louder. “Me? Twisted?”, she cried, suddenly serious. “The only one twisted here is you. Oh yes, let’s be friends! But when it’s convenient, you have no problem letting go. You are so self-centred. You know what? This so-called friendship of ours… ends today.” Suddenly Nari’s weeds started withering and Lillie broke free. Nari tried to summon more plants but Lillie was already there, pushing her with magic. Nari was able to dodge it but, before she could launch a counterattack, she was disabled by a coughing fit. “Oh dear, not feeling well?” asked Lillie sarcastically. Nari wanted to reply but she realised with horror that she was not able to speak. “Has the cat got your tongue?” Nari put her hand to her neck. It hurt terribly. Her ears were ringing loudly and her lips started turning blue. Her knees gave way and she fell to the ground. She could feel all the energy fleeing from her body. Her mind was clouding over. She could not move. She could not think. She. Could. Not. Breathe. In the White Chamber, Lillie had risen from her seat and was standing in front of Nari. She had taken Nari’s neck with both hands and, while muttering a forbidden spell, she was strangling her. Her voice was dark, almost as if it didn’t come from her. No one had noticed, for all the wizards had their eyes closed and were chanting the spell that allowed them to see what was happening in the mind duel. “What in your simple and sorry existence made you think you could measure up against me?” whispered Lillie, and her image in the mind duel did the same. “I see you are not going to talk, so I will dispose of you and destroy the egg myself.” “Stop it,” Nari thought, desperately grasping at her neck as if she could find what was hurting it. She knew she had only a few seconds before she would lose consciousness completely. Her eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier, and eventually drooped closed. The wizards opened their eyes at once. Nari was lying on the floor of the White Chamber. Her face rested on top of a small pool of blood. Her neck and face were bruised and covered in nail marks. She looked dead. Lillie was standing beside her, grinning. She turned to face the eldest, who was still holding the dragon’s egg. “Wizard,” she said, “you will give that egg to me.” The old man’s voice roared with anger. “What have you done!?” Lillie looked at Nari, lying lifelessly on the floor. “I just took care of an inconvenience,” she replied cruelly. “If you wish to avoid her fate you will do as I command.” She took a step towards him, but soon the rest of the wizards surrounded her. One of them approached Nari and gently caressed her cheek, fearing the worst. Nari’s skin was warm and her pulse, although weak, was there. The wizard shook her gently and the young girl moaned softly. She was alive. Nari opened her eyes. It took her a few seconds to realize she was no longer in the mind duel. She gasped for air once more and oxygen flowed inside her. She rolled onto her side. All of the members of the council were standing between her and Lillie. “You meddling wizards!” screamed Lillie. “Hand me the egg!” They were still chanting but the words were different now, and Nari recognised it as the spell of Oblivion. All sorcerers in the White Chamber learned that spell when they first joined the council, but she had never had to use it. It was meant to seal another wizard’s magic. It was used only on traitors. Lillie looked as if she wanted to bite their heads off. Nari had never seen so much rage in her friend’s face. No doubt she had recognised their spell. She muttered a couple of words and dark flames appeared at her feet, gently leaping towards her, as if caressing her legs. “As you wish then. Your foolish organisation will soon cease to exist and as for you…,” she said, looking at Nari, who was still lying on the floor, pale-faced. “Can you feel the darkness creeping inside you?” Nari swallowed and found it painful, as if her throat was on fire. “The curse will creep down and consume your lungs. Then you will not be able to breathe. The spell I cast on you today shall bring you the most dreadful death.” And with those words the black fire engulfed Lillie, who disappeared in a roar of laughter. The rest of the wizards stopped chanting and surrounded Nari. They examined her but no one knew how to stop the curse Lillie had just put on her. The eldest assessed the purple bruise. It wasn’t a normal mark; a broader ring surrounded her neck and, like the branches of a tree, thinner vein-like bruises crept down towards her chest. He listened to her voice, rougher than usual, and had her open her mouth to examine her throat, which appeared normal. “The curse will be slow before taking full effect,” he concluded. “How much time?” asked Nari The old man shook his head “I do not know for sure. Months. Years. It will depend on your own strength.” Nari flinched. “You should rest,” said the eldest. “Lillie has broken the rules and has tried to murder a member of the Wizardry. She has committed treason and will be hunted down. Let other wizards do it.” Soon it was decided who would leave in pursuit of the traitor. “I don’t think we need to hold another vote to know that it is now imperative you open this egg,” said the man, giving it to her. “Opening it may provide us with a clue as to why all this has happened.” Nari nodded. If she had had any doubts they had now disappeared. It was a dragon’s egg, and Lillie wanted it destroyed. Badly. The eldest wizard dismissed the meeting but, before parting, he whispered in Nari’s ear. “You must hide,” he said. “Tell no one where. And contact me only after you have opened the egg. The fewer people who know where you are, the fewer people will be able to find you and the egg.” Nari was now decided. She had to protect the eggs and try to hatch them.

Nights in the little town in Victoria had changed. The rural village had once boasted peaceful hours under the stars, but that was no more. “Hurry up, mistress Licorice,” implored young Camellia. Licorice was incessantly shrinking down books with magic and filling a big bag with them. “We should go now,” Camellia said. “But we must save all the research,” replied Camellia’s twin, Cedric, who was carefully placing vials, full of colourful liquids, inside a purse. “Cammy, come here and help me instead of whining.” The little girl ran across the room to her brother, but stumbled over one of the objects lying on the floor and fell, face first, on the ground. Cedric rolled his eye. “On second thoughts,” he said, “better find another occupation that keeps your clumsy hands away from anything breakable.” Camellia stood up. She was used to tumbling and bumping into things every now and then. She checked herself in the mirror. Her face was covered in dirt but everything was in order: fuzzy red hair tied down in two braids, two pointy ears and one big green eye in the middle of her pale, child-like face. She would have liked to have human hands. She had always found them so delicate and many-fingered. Instead, she was stuck with her chubby three-fingered hands with terrifying claws. She filed them daily but they just kept on growing. She redid one of her braids, which was coming loose. Her hair was nice, she decided, she liked the colour and the reddish shine it had, even in the dim light of the candles. “It’s not easy to see where things are exactly when you’re a cyclops,” she complained shyly. “I’m a cyclops too,” Cedric pointed out, “and I’m nowhere near as clumsy as you!” Cedric was almost identical to his sister but with unruly short blond hair. “Stop it, you two,” said Licorice in her soft velvet voice. “Camellia, won’t you please make sure our coats are ready? It won’t take much longer.” “Yes, mistress!” replied the girl, rushing out of the basement. “Great idea, my Lady,” mumbled Cedric. “That will keep everything in this room safe… for a while.” Licorice smiled. It was a lovely smile which could have charmed any heart. The young mistress would have been pretty. More than pretty, stunningly beautiful, with luscious curled ivory hair that fell to her delicate shoulders, eyes highlighted by long lashes, a small pointy nose and juicy red lips. She would have been a sight to behold if it weren’t for her skin, hard and grey, dead and cold to the touch. Licorice wore a black dress and gloves that covered her arms. “But your sister was right,” she said. “We must hurry.” Cedric sighed, frustrated. “I still don’t understand why we have to leave. This is your home, my Lady.” Licorice stopped for a beat to look around the room. This was, indeed, her home, full of memories she cherished. She had been born in it and, despite her frequent travels, it had always been a place to come back to. She could almost picture her father pacing in the little basement-laboratory, always with a book in his hands, while she helped him. Her father had been a brilliant mind, as her mother had been, but the memories of her became more distant and blurred, for she had died when Licorice was a very young child. Now Camellia and Cedric were all she had. “There’s nothing left for us here,” she said firmly. “And it may be… beneficial to leave now.” Cedric raised his gaze. He had understood what the mistress meant. “Still,” continued the boy, “it feels unfair having to leave in such a rush. We should fight back.” Licorice appreciated her young servant’s honesty. “We may have to,” she replied, going back to packing. The voices from outside the mansion, the angry shouts and screams, were getting louder and louder. Licorice could make out most of what they said: ‘Burn the witch!’ ‘Slay the one–eyed monsters!’ She could also smell the fire. The townsfolk had finally entered the manor. They were armed with torches, knives and any object they could use as a weapon, and they destroyed everything in their path. Camellia rushed into the basement with the coats. Licorice instructed the twins to put them on and grab their bags. She put on her dark veil. The mistress and the cyclopes left the basement, walking up the stairs towards the voices. “Come out of your hideout, witch. We know you’re there!” shouted the mayor. Camelia took her brother’s hand and squeezed. The shout had come from the ballroom, and they had to go through that room if they wished to leave the mansion. Licorice didn’t slow her pace. They crossed the hallway and entered the large ballroom. The high ceiling, adorned with images of clouds and angels, was lit by torches. They were met by a sea of angry faces. “Wicked!” “Abomination!” “You should pay for your crimes! We have come to finish your heinous life!” “Look at the monsters! Oh, what horrible creatures!” “Burn it all to the ground!” Licorice raised one of her hands and the townspeople fell silent. “We are leaving,” she said in her soft voice. “Please, let us through.” The faces before them looked indignant, and the townspeople started shouting again. The mayor took a step forward. “Lady Licorice, you stand accused of witchery and evil. We have come to apprehend you so that you may stand trial.” The young cyclopes looked at their mistress, who stood proud and silent. “You have all seen it! By her silence she admits her witchery!” roared one woman. Several cries of agreement came from behind her. “If that is so…” the mayor said, “I sentence you to die in the pyre. And may you find salvation from your evil ways. Catch her!” “You fools.” Licorice didn’t raise her voice, it was more like a whisper, but everyone heard her clearly. She didn’t even look at them, as if the whole conversation was of no interest to her. “As I have said, we are leaving. You will let us through.” “We cannot let you leave,” shouted one woman. And for the first time Licorice paid attention. She took a step towards the villager who had spoken and pierced her with a freezing stare. “This town is cursed,” she said, pronouncing each word carefully. “You should leave now.” A hush fell over the room. It was just for a few seconds but to Camellia it felt like an eternity. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the others. It was a tall man who was holding a big knife, pointed directly at her neck. “I am not afraid of you!” he said, although his voice trembled. “I’ll kill this unsightly monster myself!” he cried. “Let her go!” roared Cedric, mad at the sight of his sister in danger. He had already dropped his bags and would have charged towards the villager if the mistress had not placed her delicate hand on his shoulder. ‘Unsightly’, ‘monster’… Camellia had actually been called worse names. She used to be very upset by them when she was younger, but now she didn’t care. The big knife, however, scared her. It must have been used to chop meat and, although it was clean, her fine cyclops senses could smell the metallic scent of blood on it. It made her shudder. “You will let the girl go,” said Licorice, her voice firm. The man drove the blade closer to Camellia’s neck. Slowly, Licorice removed her gloves. She could hear the townsfolk gasp in fear. Those who stood closest to Licorice began pushing back, panic in their eyes. Under the gloves, Licorice’s arms and hands were pure skeleton without any flesh. “I told you.” “She is indeed a witch.” But Licorice paid no attention to the comments, which were becoming even more rage-filled than before. The mistress stretched out both arms and muttered some unknown words. A flash of light surrounded her palms, the blaze became brighter and brighter, accumulating in her fingertips, and a beam shot towards the knife. The man screamed in terror and, when the brightness dimmed, he could see that the blade had disappeared completely, leaving only the handle in his hand. Camellia took advantage of his confusion to bite the arm that grasped her, as hard as she could. As she felt the grasp loosening she pushed and ran to her brother’s side. The townsfolk couldn’t contain their anger any more. “We must kill her!” “Kill them all!” The people charged. Forks, axes and burning torches pointed towards them. Two purple flames burst out of Licorice’s palms. The violet fire engulfed the townsfolk and, although it didn’t burn, the people screamed in confusion and fear. “The mistress is so powerful,” mumbled Cedric in his sister’s ear. Camellia nodded. She could feel her heart thumping with excitement. “With her, there is nothing to fear,” her brother said, squeezing her hand. The townsfolk were too scared to move. “Let’s go,” said Licorice, not even looking back. The witch and the one- eyed monsters walked towards the door and left the mansion, never to return again.

Nights in the little town in Victoria had changed. The rural village had once boasted peaceful hours under the stars, but that was no more. “Hurry up, mistress Licorice,” implored young Camellia. Licorice was incessantly shrinking down books with magic and filling a big bag with them. “We should go now,” Camellia said. “But we must save all the research,” replied Camellia’s twin, Cedric, who was carefully placing vials, full of colourful liquids, inside a purse. “Cammy, come here and help me instead of whining.” The little girl ran across the room to her brother, but stumbled over one of the objects lying on the floor and fell, face first, on the ground. Cedric rolled his eye. “On second thoughts,” he said, “better find another occupation that keeps your clumsy hands away from anything breakable.” Camellia stood up. She was used to tumbling and bumping into things every now and then. She checked herself in the mirror. Her face was covered in dirt but everything was in order: fuzzy red hair tied down in two braids, two pointy ears and one big green eye in the middle of her pale, child-like face. She would have liked to have human hands. She had always found them so delicate and many-fingered. Instead, she was stuck with her chubby three-fingered hands with terrifying claws. She filed them daily but they just kept on growing. She redid one of her braids, which was coming loose. Her hair was nice, she decided, she liked the colour and the reddish shine it had, even in the dim light of the candles. “It’s not easy to see where things are exactly when you’re a cyclops,” she complained shyly. “I’m a cyclops too,” Cedric pointed out, “and I’m nowhere near as clumsy as you!” Cedric was almost identical to his sister but with unruly short blond hair. “Stop it, you two,” said Licorice in her soft velvet voice. “Camellia, won’t you please make sure our coats are ready? It won’t take much longer.” “Yes, mistress!” replied the girl, rushing out of the basement. “Great idea, my Lady,” mumbled Cedric. “That will keep everything in this room safe… for a while.” Licorice smiled. It was a lovely smile which could have charmed any heart. The young mistress would have been pretty. More than pretty, stunningly beautiful, with luscious curled ivory hair that fell to her delicate shoulders, eyes highlighted by long lashes, a small pointy nose and juicy red lips. She would have been a sight to behold if it weren’t for her skin, hard and grey, dead and cold to the touch. Licorice wore a black dress and gloves that covered her arms. “But your sister was right,” she said. “We must hurry.” Cedric sighed, frustrated. “I still don’t understand why we have to leave. This is your home, my Lady.” Licorice stopped for a beat to look around the room. This was, indeed, her home, full of memories she cherished. She had been born in it and, despite her frequent travels, it had always been a place to come back to. She could almost picture her father pacing in the little basement-laboratory, always with a book in his hands, while she helped him. Her father had been a brilliant mind, as her mother had been, but the memories of her became more distant and blurred, for she had died when Licorice was a very young child. Now Camellia and Cedric were all she had. “There’s nothing left for us here,” she said firmly. “And it may be… beneficial to leave now.” Cedric raised his gaze. He had understood what the mistress meant. “Still,” continued the boy, “it feels unfair having to leave in such a rush. We should fight back.” Licorice appreciated her young servant’s honesty. “We may have to,” she replied, going back to packing. The voices from outside the mansion, the angry shouts and screams, were getting louder and louder. Licorice could make out most of what they said: ‘Burn the witch!’ ‘Slay the one–eyed monsters!’ She could also smell the fire. The townsfolk had finally entered the manor. They were armed with torches, knives and any object they could use as a weapon, and they destroyed everything in their path. Camellia rushed into the basement with the coats. Licorice instructed the twins to put them on and grab their bags. She put on her dark veil. The mistress and the cyclopes left the basement, walking up the stairs towards the voices. “Come out of your hideout, witch. We know you’re there!” shouted the mayor. Camelia took her brother’s hand and squeezed. The shout had come from the ballroom, and they had to go through that room if they wished to leave the mansion. Licorice didn’t slow her pace. They crossed the hallway and entered the large ballroom. The high ceiling, adorned with images of clouds and angels, was lit by torches. They were met by a sea of angry faces. “Wicked!” “Abomination!” “You should pay for your crimes! We have come to finish your heinous life!” “Look at the monsters! Oh, what horrible creatures!” “Burn it all to the ground!” Licorice raised one of her hands and the townspeople fell silent. “We are leaving,” she said in her soft voice. “Please, let us through.” The faces before them looked indignant, and the townspeople started shouting again. The mayor took a step forward. “Lady Licorice, you stand accused of witchery and evil. We have come to apprehend you so that you may stand trial.” The young cyclopes looked at their mistress, who stood proud and silent. “You have all seen it! By her silence she admits her witchery!” roared one woman. Several cries of agreement came from behind her. “If that is so…” the mayor said, “I sentence you to die in the pyre. And may you find salvation from your evil ways. Catch her!” “You fools.” Licorice didn’t raise her voice, it was more like a whisper, but everyone heard her clearly. She didn’t even look at them, as if the whole conversation was of no interest to her. “As I have said, we are leaving. You will let us through.” “We cannot let you leave,” shouted one woman. And for the first time Licorice paid attention. She took a step towards the villager who had spoken and pierced her with a freezing stare. “This town is cursed,” she said, pronouncing each word carefully. “You should leave now.” A hush fell over the room. It was just for a few seconds but to Camellia it felt like an eternity. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the others. It was a tall man who was holding a big knife, pointed directly at her neck. “I am not afraid of you!” he said, although his voice trembled. “I’ll kill this unsightly monster myself!” he cried. “Let her go!” roared Cedric, mad at the sight of his sister in danger. He had already dropped his bags and would have charged towards the villager if the mistress had not placed her delicate hand on his shoulder. ‘Unsightly’, ‘monster’… Camellia had actually been called worse names. She used to be very upset by them when she was younger, but now she didn’t care. The big knife, however, scared her. It must have been used to chop meat and, although it was clean, her fine cyclops senses could smell the metallic scent of blood on it. It made her shudder. “You will let the girl go,” said Licorice, her voice firm. The man drove the blade closer to Camellia’s neck. Slowly, Licorice removed her gloves. She could hear the townsfolk gasp in fear. Those who stood closest to Licorice began pushing back, panic in their eyes. Under the gloves, Licorice’s arms and hands were pure skeleton without any flesh. “I told you.” “She is indeed a witch.” But Licorice paid no attention to the comments, which were becoming even more rage-filled than before. The mistress stretched out both arms and muttered some unknown words. A flash of light surrounded her palms, the blaze became brighter and brighter, accumulating in her fingertips, and a beam shot towards the knife. The man screamed in terror and, when the brightness dimmed, he could see that the blade had disappeared completely, leaving only the handle in his hand. Camellia took advantage of his confusion to bite the arm that grasped her, as hard as she could. As she felt the grasp loosening she pushed and ran to her brother’s side. The townsfolk couldn’t contain their anger any more. “We must kill her!” “Kill them all!” The people charged. Forks, axes and burning torches pointed towards them. Two purple flames burst out of Licorice’s palms. The violet fire engulfed the townsfolk and, although it didn’t burn, the people screamed in confusion and fear. “The mistress is so powerful,” mumbled Cedric in his sister’s ear. Camellia nodded. She could feel her heart thumping with excitement. “With her, there is nothing to fear,” her brother said, squeezing her hand. The townsfolk were too scared to move. “Let’s go,” said Licorice, not even looking back. The witch and the one-eyed monsters walked towards the door and left the mansion, never to return again.

Seed could see his shadow following him in the treetops. The wind whistled as the small green dragon soared on the warm currents beneath his wings. He focused his eyes on the horizon, pressed his tiny arms to his chest and extended his still-too-short tail to make his body more streamlined. A pinkish blur passed him and slowed down until it was just in front of him. “Slowcoach!” shouted his sister Rot, dangling her feet in front of his snout. Seed tried to bite them but Rot had already turned to fly by his side. Only Rot could pull off a manoeuvre like that at top speed. “You left without telling me,” Rot whined. “And I thought we had agreed we would fly together.” “Well, it’s your own fault,” replied Seed. “You take forever to wake up. I couldn’t wait all morning for you. Plus, I couldn’t concentrate with your snoring.” Rot almost stopped in mid-air. “I DO NOT SNORE!” she said, her nostrils flaring with rage and indignation. Seed burst out laughing. He knew his sister too well to take her too seriously. “You certainly do! It sounds like this: rrrrrrrrrroooo…” “Take it back! Take it back!” said Rot, flying from side to side around him. Seed could not contain his glee. His sister might be the best flyer and the strongest of the pair, but she was a little vain sometimes. He loved her very much regardless. “Okay, okay. I take it back,” he conceded. “There. Happy?” Rot spun three hundred and sixty degrees in response. “Where are we going?” she asked. “There’s a meadow up ahead, between the mountains,” Seed explained. “It’s the perfect spot.” Their big brother Ashes had always been very clear: if they were to leave the tower on their own they had to fly high, over the woods, and only land in a deserted place. Seed’s meadow was just that. He was a bit nervous, as it had been sort of his private place all this time. But Rot had been so insistent about wanting to tag along. “Straight line to the mountains?” scoffed Rot, rolling her eyes. “But that is bo–o–o–oring. I have a better idea.” Oh no, troublemaker Rot had had an idea. Before Seed could stop her, his sister had already started folding her wings. “Race you through the woooooods!” Seed could barely hear the last word, as Rot was already plummeting towards the trees. Well, he couldn’t leave her on her own. Rot was somehow always a magnet for trouble. He pointed his snout downwards, folded his wings, and dropped. It’s difficult to remain calm when you’re falling at top speed. Your stomach lurches and the adrenaline flows through your veins. With his eyes half-closed, and the wind whipping every inch of his face, Seed cried out with joy. Flying was amazing. Soaring was amazing. But falling was better! As he gained speed, the trees grew closer and he could see a clearing through the branches. With a slight swish of his tail, he changed his path. He could hear Rot’s joyous screams and he replied with his own. The ground was now close. Ten metres. He flew through the tall treetops. Five metres. Now he could make out every patch of grass. Three metres. Not yet, not yet. Two metres. Wait for it…NOW! Seed opened his wings, lifted his head and lowered his tail. His feet barely grazed the grass as he was propelled forwards. He didn’t have much time to think. Tree! Turn left! A rock! Turn right! Another tree! He zigzagged through the trees. He flapped his wings to gain altitude. “Not bad, not bad. You’re getting better,” said Rot, praising him. She had slowed her pace to let him catch up. “Excuse me?” “Well, being the youngest of the pack… it’s quite normal that you haven’t learned all the ropes of flying yet,” she said condescendingly. “I am the youngest one now?” Seed said. “I thought Ashes said our eggs hatched at the same time.” Rot pulled a face. “I am pretty sure mine hatched first,” she declared. “No it didn’t.” “Yes it did!” “I am telling you it didn’t!” “Oh, well, then prove it! The fastest one will be the oldest.” “Okay,” decided Seed. “If you want a race… you’re going to get one!” And he threw himself at her, making her lose her balance and forcing her to slow down. Rot grunted and followed. “Hey, that wasn’t fair!” But Seed was already flying and didn’t look back. And he knew exactly which path he was going to take. Yes, Ashes had said not to fly low, but Seed had been observing that part of the forest for a long time and he knew that it was deserted. So, little by little, he had started to explore it. They were drawing closer to a big cave. The cavern opened in front of them and a deep grotto followed. Seed didn’t hesitate and entered it. It was dark, but the dragons’ eyes adjusted easily to the blackness surrounding them. “Oh, you thought I would be afraid of a little darkness,” laughed Rot. She was catching up with him. They flew through the natural tunnel, dodging stalactites and stalagmites. Now Seed could hear it, just one more turn… “Not of the darkness,” he muttered. Suddenly, they could see light ahead and now the sound was loud and clear. The cavern ended in a narrow opening behind a waterfall. “Water?” Seed heard his sister cry in dismay. Rot tried to slow down but she was going too fast. Both dragons emerged from the cave, drenched from their horns to their toes. “Water! I hate water!” said Rot, obviously disgusted and shaking the water off. “I hate being wet!” Seed was laughing so hard he could barely stay aloft. “Oh, Rot! You should have seen your face.” Seed didn’t care at all about his own wetness, he found it refreshing, but his sister had hated being wet since they were hatchlings. Seed felt a sudden warmth. “Hey, careful there,” he shouted. Too late. Rot was suddenly sparkling and hot like embers. A soft hissing sound came out of her body as the droplets turned into vapour. “Not wet any more,” she said, relieved. “Rot! You have to be careful!” her brother told her off. “We are in the middle of the forest, you could have burned something!” Ashes would be terribly angry if they ended up starting a fire. “What’s that?” asked Rot, not paying attention to him any more but looking behind him, over his shoulder. Seed sighed. His sister had always had a short attention span. But she was right, there was something there. A bundle of fur, trembling on the ground. The siblings landed just beside it. “So… what is it?” asked Rot. The creature was small, squirrel-like, with reddish brown fur, a long bushy tail and ears made of green leaves. “I think it’s a plantarol,” Seed decided. Rot looked at him, clueless. “Come on, Rot,” her brother said, “Ashes told us about them!” Rot shrugged. “Anyway, why is it lying down? Isn’t it afraid of us?” she asked. “It’s hurt its leg,” replied Seed, pointing to the torn limb. “Poor thing, of course it’s scared, but it can’t move.” “Oh no! Seed, you must do something!” Behind her tough exterior Rot was a gentle soul. “I know.” Seed kneeled in front of the little animal. It was panting, its eyes wide open, staring, terrified, at the strange green creature before it. Seed put his feet over the plantarol’s injured leg. Something inside him lit up. He could feel warmth emanating from the plantarol and something else, like a cold sharp pain. A soft glow emerged from his feet as he started gently kneading the area surrounding the limb. Rot watched, amazed. “I will never get tired of watching you do this,” she murmured. Seed removed his feet from the injured leg. “I think… I think it’s fixed,” said Seed. The plantarol looked at him, startled, sniffing the air. Warily, the rodent stretched its leg once, then twice, marvelling at the absence of pain. “I bet it feels better now,” added Rot. As if it had understood her, the plantarol hopped and let out a series of high- pitched barks. “What is it doing?” asked Rot. “No idea!” Suddenly a huge group of plantarols surrounded them. They came jumping from the treetops, appearing from the dense bushes or climbing down the branches. All of them were barking and chirping, their tiny noses emerging from all directions and their leafy tails curling and stretching. The little animals jumped up and down all over the two dragons. “Ouch!” said Rot, rubbing her head. “Something just fell on me!” Seed looked up and saw even more plantarols in the branches. Every single one of them was holding a small round white rock. Without hesitation, the animals dropped the stones on the dragons, who unfolded their wings to protect themselves. “Hey! Talk about being ungrateful,” complained Rot. “Okay, I’ve had it! I am going to roast these plantarols right now if they don’t stop!” Rot was already opening her mouth to breathe fire, but Seed had picked up one of the rocks and was having a look at it. “Wait, Rot!” he said, closing his sister’s mouth. “These aren’t stones! They’re nuts!” “Hmmmhhhhffff,” Rot mumbled, pushing back to escape her brother’s grip. “Like I care, they still hurt!” But by then the nuts had stopped falling and the healed plantarol was jumping up at Rot’s knee with one of the dropped nuts. Stretching out his little arms, he offered it to her. “What?” asked Rot, picking up the gift. “What do you want me to do with this?” In response, the rodent picked up another nut and pushed it into his mouth, making one of his cheeks bulge in a quite amusing manner. “See, they’re not attacking!” cried Seed. “They’re offering us their food!” “Oh.” Rot examined the nut. It looked hard and unappetising. However, she decided it would look impolite to refuse, and proceeded to put it in her mouth. It was as hard as rock and tasted… well, not like food! She tried to crunch it but had to spit it out immediately. “This is inedible,” she declared. The plantarols surrounding them barked with laughter. The one in front of them took out the nut he had stored in his cheek and held it firmly with both hands. He struck it against the ground a couple of times and bit it with his incisors, splitting the white shell in two and revealing a pinkish round seed. He offered the seed to Rot. Not completely confident, the dragon took it in her mouth. She was surprised by the strong fruity flavour, with a hint of cinnamon. It was good! Not hard at all and very tasty. Seed had taken one of the nuts with a brownish hull and carefully opened the shell with his own teeth, which caused the plantarols to jump excitedly. He tasted it. It had a buttery flavour and Seed thought it was delicious. It wasn’t long before the plantarols started bringing more and more nuts of different colours and shapes. Rot liked the black heart-shaped ones best, the ones with tiny blue seeds inside and a strong aroma of wild figs and cherries. Seed, however, favoured the big long ones. It took two or three plantarols to carry just one them, and the pale inside had a sour citric taste. The plantarols watched them gorge on the meal with joy. They were such energetic creatures. During all this time they didn’t stop jumping and climbing over everything they could find: tree trunks, rocks, other plantarols – they would pile up on top of one another just for fun – and soon, of course, two very happy dragons who let the plantarols climb up to their horns and wings. Seed and Rot were enjoying it so much they hadn’t noticed the sun was now starting to set. They had spent the entire day playing with the plantarols! Seed was going to remind his sister they had to head back home when a gust of wind made all the plantarols look up and, in a split second, disappear, hiding under the bushes and in the trees. The dragons looked around, stunned. A dense mist was creeping towards them from all directions, and soon surrounded them.

Seed could see his shadow following him in the treetops. The wind whistled as the small green dragon soared on the warm currents beneath his wings. He focused his eyes on the horizon, pressed his tiny arms to his chest and extended his still-too-short tail to make his body more streamlined. A pinkish blur passed him and slowed down until it was just in front of him. “Slowcoach!” shouted his sister Rot, dangling her feet in front of his snout. Seed tried to bite them but Rot had already turned to fly by his side. Only Rot could pull off a manoeuvre like that at top speed. “You left without telling me,” Rot whined. “And I thought we had agreed we would fly together.” “Well, it’s your own fault,” replied Seed. “You take forever to wake up. I couldn’t wait all morning for you. Plus, I couldn’t concentrate with your snoring.” Rot almost stopped in mid-air. “I DO NOT SNORE!” she said, her nostrils flaring with rage and indignation. Seed burst out laughing. He knew his sister too well to take her too seriously. “You certainly do! It sounds like this: rrrrrrrrrroooo…” “Take it back! Take it back!” said Rot, flying from side to side around him. Seed could not contain his glee. His sister might be the best flyer and the strongest of the pair, but she was a little vain sometimes. He loved her very much regardless. “Okay, okay. I take it back,” he conceded. “There. Happy?” Rot spun three hundred and sixty degrees in response. “Where are we going?” she asked. “There’s a meadow up ahead, between the mountains,” Seed explained. “It’s the perfect spot.” Their big brother Ashes had always been very clear: if they were to leave the tower on their own they had to fly high, over the woods, and only land in a deserted place. Seed’s meadow was just that. He was a bit nervous, as it had been sort of his private place all this time. But Rot had been so insistent about wanting to tag along. “Straight line to the mountains?” scoffed Rot, rolling her eyes. “But that is bo–o–o–oring. I have a better idea.” Oh no, troublemaker Rot had had an idea. Before Seed could stop her, his sister had already started folding her wings. “Race you through the woooooods!” Seed could barely hear the last word, as Rot was already plummeting towards the trees. Well, he couldn’t leave her on her own. Rot was somehow always a magnet for trouble. He pointed his snout downwards, folded his wings, and dropped. It’s difficult to remain calm when you’re falling at top speed. Your stomach lurches and the adrenaline flows through your veins. With his eyes half-closed, and the wind whipping every inch of his face, Seed cried out with joy. Flying was amazing. Soaring was amazing. But falling was better! As he gained speed, the trees grew closer and he could see a clearing through the branches. With a slight swish of his tail, he changed his path. He could hear Rot’s joyous screams and he replied with his own. The ground was now close. Ten metres. He flew through the tall treetops. Five metres. Now he could make out every patch of grass. Three metres. Not yet, not yet. Two metres. Wait for it…NOW! Seed opened his wings, lifted his head and lowered his tail. His feet barely grazed the grass as he was propelled forwards. He didn’t have much time to think. Tree! Turn left! A rock! Turn right! Another tree! He zigzagged through the trees. He flapped his wings to gain altitude. “Not bad, not bad. You’re getting better,” said Rot, praising him. She had slowed her pace to let him catch up. “Excuse me?” “Well, being the youngest of the pack… it’s quite normal that you haven’t learned all the ropes of flying yet,” she said condescendingly. “I am the youngest one now?” Seed said. “I thought Ashes said our eggs hatched at the same time.” Rot pulled a face. “I am pretty sure mine hatched first,” she declared. “No it didn’t.” “Yes it did!” “I am telling you it didn’t!” “Oh, well, then prove it! The fastest one will be the oldest.” “Okay,” decided Seed. “If you want a race… you’re going to get one!” And he threw himself at her, making her lose her balance and forcing her to slow down. Rot grunted and followed. “Hey, that wasn’t fair!” But Seed was already flying and didn’t look back. And he knew exactly which path he was going to take. Yes, Ashes had said not to fly low, but Seed had been observing that part of the forest for a long time and he knew that it was deserted. So, little by little, he had started to explore it. They were drawing closer to a big cave. The cavern opened in front of them and a deep grotto followed. Seed didn’t hesitate and entered it. It was dark, but the dragons’ eyes adjusted easily to the blackness surrounding them. “Oh, you thought I would be afraid of a little darkness,” laughed Rot. She was catching up with him. They flew through the natural tunnel, dodging stalactites and stalagmites. Now Seed could hear it, just one more turn… “Not of the darkness,” he muttered. Suddenly, they could see light ahead and now the sound was loud and clear. The cavern ended in a narrow opening behind a waterfall. “Water?” Seed heard his sister cry in dismay. Rot tried to slow down but she was going too fast. Both dragons emerged from the cave, drenched from their horns to their toes. “Water! I hate water!” said Rot, obviously disgusted and shaking the water off. “I hate being wet!” Seed was laughing so hard he could barely stay aloft. “Oh, Rot! You should have seen your face.” Seed didn’t care at all about his own wetness, he found it refreshing, but his sister had hated being wet since they were hatchlings. Seed felt a sudden warmth. “Hey, careful there,” he shouted. Too late. Rot was suddenly sparkling and hot like embers. A soft hissing sound came out of her body as the droplets turned into vapour. “Not wet any more,” she said, relieved. “Rot! You have to be careful!” her brother told her off. “We are in the middle of the forest, you could have burned something!” Ashes would be terribly angry if they ended up starting a fire. “What’s that?” asked Rot, not paying attention to him any more but looking behind him, over his shoulder. Seed sighed. His sister had always had a short attention span. But she was right, there was something there. A bundle of fur, trembling on the ground. The siblings landed just beside it. “So… what is it?” asked Rot. The creature was small, squirrel-like, with reddish brown fur, a long bushy tail and ears made of green leaves. “I think it’s a plantarol,” Seed decided. Rot looked at him, clueless. “Come on, Rot,” her brother said, “Ashes told us about them!” Rot shrugged. “Anyway, why is it lying down? Isn’t it afraid of us?” she asked. “It’s hurt its leg,” replied Seed, pointing to the torn limb. “Poor thing, of course it’s scared, but it can’t move.” “Oh no! Seed, you must do something!” Behind her tough exterior Rot was a gentle soul. “I know.” Seed kneeled in front of the little animal. It was panting, its eyes wide open, staring, terrified, at the strange green creature before it. Seed put his feet over the plantarol’s injured leg. Something inside him lit up. He could feel warmth emanating from the plantarol and something else, like a cold sharp pain. A soft glow emerged from his feet as he started gently kneading the area surrounding the limb. Rot watched, amazed. “I will never get tired of watching you do this,” she murmured. Seed removed his feet from the injured leg. “I think… I think it’s fixed,” said Seed. The plantarol looked at him, startled, sniffing the air. Warily, the rodent stretched its leg once, then twice, marvelling at the absence of pain. “I bet it feels better now,” added Rot. As if it had understood her, the plantarol hopped and let out a series of high-pitched barks. “What is it doing?” asked Rot. “No idea!” Suddenly a huge group of plantarols surrounded them. They came jumping from the treetops, appearing from the dense bushes or climbing down the branches. All of them were barking and chirping, their tiny noses emerging from all directions and their leafy tails curling and stretching. The little animals jumped up and down all over the two dragons. “Ouch!” said Rot, rubbing her head. “Something just fell on me!” Seed looked up and saw even more plantarols in the branches. Every single one of them was holding a small round white rock. Without hesitation, the animals dropped the stones on the dragons, who unfolded their wings to protect themselves. “Hey! Talk about being ungrateful,” complained Rot. “Okay, I’ve had it! I am going to roast these plantarols right now if they don’t stop!” Rot was already opening her mouth to breathe fire, but Seed had picked up one of the rocks and was having a look at it. “Wait, Rot!” he said, closing his sister’s mouth. “These aren’t stones! They’re nuts!” “Hmmmhhhhffff,” Rot mumbled, pushing back to escape her brother’s grip. “Like I care, they still hurt!” But by then the nuts had stopped falling and the healed plantarol was jumping up at Rot’s knee with one of the dropped nuts. Stretching out his little arms, he offered it to her. “What?” asked Rot, picking up the gift. “What do you want me to do with this?” In response, the rodent picked up another nut and pushed it into his mouth, making one of his cheeks bulge in a quite amusing manner. “See, they’re not attacking!” cried Seed. “They’re offering us their food!” “Oh.” Rot examined the nut. It looked hard and unappetising. However, she decided it would look impolite to refuse, and proceeded to put it in her mouth. It was as hard as rock and tasted… well, not like food! She tried to crunch it but had to spit it out immediately. “This is inedible,” she declared. The plantarols surrounding them barked with laughter. The one in front of them took out the nut he had stored in his cheek and held it firmly with both hands. He struck it against the ground a couple of times and bit it with his incisors, splitting the white shell in two and revealing a pinkish round seed. He offered the seed to Rot. Not completely confident, the dragon took it in her mouth. She was surprised by the strong fruity flavour, with a hint of cinnamon. It was good! Not hard at all and very tasty. Seed had taken one of the nuts with a brownish hull and carefully opened the shell with his own teeth, which caused the plantarols to jump excitedly. He tasted it. It had a buttery flavour and Seed thought it was delicious. It wasn’t long before the plantarols started bringing more and more nuts of different colours and shapes. Rot liked the black heart-shaped ones best, the ones with tiny blue seeds inside and a strong aroma of wild figs and cherries. Seed, however, favoured the big long ones. It took two or three plantarols to carry just one them, and the pale inside had a sour citric taste. The plantarols watched them gorge on the meal with joy. They were such energetic creatures. During all this time they didn’t stop jumping and climbing over everything they could find: tree trunks, rocks, other plantarols – they would pile up on top of one another just for fun – and soon, of course, two very happy dragons who let the plantarols climb up to their horns and wings. Seed and Rot were enjoying it so much they hadn’t noticed the sun was now starting to set. They had spent the entire day playing with the plantarols! Seed was going to remind his sister they had to head back home when a gust of wind made all the plantarols look up and, in a split second, disappear, hiding under the bushes and in the trees. The dragons looked around, stunned. A dense mist was creeping towards them from all directions, and soon surrounded them.

From the top of the hill Licorice could see the town and the smoke over her mansion. The grand building had burnt all night and was now nothing more than black ruins. Licorice had not slept. “They are sweeping the forest with hounds,” Cedric informed her. The mistress was not surprised. Of course they would organise a search. They would also warn the neighbouring villages. It didn’t matter. There was nothing that town could offer her any more. “Good job scouting, Cedric,” she said, her eyes not leaving the manor. “Where is your sister?” Camellia took a deep breath as she entered the little village where she had lived for the last seven years. She pulled down the hood of her cape to cover her face well, only showing her lips. She was dressed smartly and carried a big empty basket. It was winter, so large woollen mittens covered her hands. It wasn’t the first time she had been in town to buy some supplies but, after the events that had taken place the previous evening, walking amongst normal people seemed stranger than ever. The danger was more real. With their hurried escape, they had not taken any provisions and, as a faithful servant, she was not going to let her mistress starve. She had summoned all the courage she could muster and had strolled down the hill. It was drizzling, which was the normal weather in Victoria. The sky was grey, thick with clouds, and the streets, made of dirt and cobblestones, were muddy. She was soon on the high street, the widest one, where carriages pulled by one or two horses passed by, forcing her to stick close to the buildings in order to avoid the occasional splash from a puddle. Cedric had once described the town as sort of depressing. Villagers went about their business sombrely and in silence, dressed mostly in dull-coloured clothing. The tall buildings, some up to three storeys high, were made of wood and painted in black and white, and the dim light of the lanterns at night made shadows out of everything. Camellia disagreed with her brother, for she had loved it there. She adored the wet atmosphere and found the houses so elegant with their big windows and pointed roofs. She liked the sound her shoes made on the cobbled streets. As she passed the seamstress she stopped by the shop window to admire the fabrics. She already had several beautiful dresses for herself but she still couldn’t help looking at them, thinking how she would like to touch them. That was not her purpose today, so she turned down the street towards the market. The marketplace was as lively as ever. The townsfolk’s restraint disappeared in the public square, which was surrounded by shops and filled with various stalls. Sellers were shouting and customers haggling. Camellia passed by the fisherman’s stall. She loved fish. After seven years it was still a novelty for her. The girl was tempted to purchase a nice big fat haddock but decided she needed food that would last longer, as they were about to start a long journey. So, instead, she went to the bakery. Even before entering the shop, her mouth watered at the smell of freshly baked bread and pastries. There were butter biscuits, almond rings, ginger cakes and even her brother’s favourites: lemon tarts. She could hear her stomach rumbling loudly and remembered she had not eaten supper the night before. She stood in front of the door, trying to convince herself not to buy any sweets and only the necessary supplies, when a hand shook her shoulder. “You, girl!” She turned and felt the blood rush from her face. It was the town’s mayor, the same man who had condemned mistress Licorice the evening before. “What are you doing on your own?” Camellia had practised her reply thousands of times in her head but still couldn’t help stuttering a bit. “I…I…I… my mother sent me to get some supplies. She is ill in bed and couldn’t come.” The man seemed unconvinced. “And who is this mother of yours?” Camellia felt a nervous chill run down her spine. She wanted to turn and rush away, but that would have been as bad as confessing her true identity. “My mother is Elanor Baggins,” she said, a fake name she had taken from a book. “We just moved in, sir. We are staying at Oakswood Farm.” Oakswood Farm was far away and its owners barely went to the town, so news of an arrival could have been delayed. She saw the mayor ponder it and then nod. “Good enough, be on your way and send my regards to…” “Wait!” It was the mayor’s wife, who now looked at Camellia with distrust. “Look at her hair, darling! Copper-coloured and braided, just like one of those horrible one-eyed monsters!” Camellia stopped breathing. A crowd had quickly surrounded her. “And they were small, like children, too,” one of the villagers interjected. “Take off her hood!” The woman took the trim of the red hood and pulled it back, slowly. The villagers fell silent and Camellia turned her head slightly to look at her reflection in the shop windows. Two green eyes over a tiny freckle-covered nose returned her gaze. Relieved, she let out the breath she had been holding. She turned to the mayor and tried to look scared. It wasn’t difficult as she was still quite shaken. “Look at what you have done,” said the man to his wife in disgust. “You scared the lass out of her wits.” The woman shook her head. “Oh dear, I don’t know what has gotten into me,” she mumbled. “What is your name, girl?” “Rosie,” replied Camellia almost instantly, and then added: “Rosie Baggins.” By now the crowd had dissipated, everyone returning to their chores and obligations. “You must excuse us, Rosie,” apologised the mayor. She still wanted to run away but now a part of her was more curious than afraid. So she decided to ask a question, sounding as innocent as she could. “Mister… what did you mean by monsters?” The mayor looked at her gravely. “Listen to me, young child,” he said. “Just a day ago, in this town, there lived a witch!” “A witch?” she exclaimed, quickly making the sign Licorice had told her humans in the village did when they wanted to protect themselves from evil. “Yes. Moreover, with her lived these hideous creatures, deformed beyond all humanity, for they had only one eye and animal claws as hands.” Camellia opened her eyes wide in surprise. It was a bit difficult, because she had to make sure both eyes widened the same amount and in unison. “But do not worry, little one,” added the mayor’s wife. “We drove them away and, hopefully, now the town will be safe again!” “However, it is still dangerous for children to go around alone,” continued the man, “for the witch may be lurking in the forest… They say she can see in the dark and transform into a heinous wolf.” The girl nodded, thinking that the conversation had dragged on long enough. “I will make sure to get my supplies and hurry home, then. Thank you for your wise counsel, sir and gentle lady.” The mayor’s wife looked pleased to be called lady and gave Camellia some fresh fruit. The couple smiled and passed on their regards to the farmers at Oakswood, then walked away. Feeling more secure than ever, Camellia entered the bakery. It was midday when she joined her brother and mistress in the forest. When she was asked where she had been she looked at them with her two eyes and an innocent expression. “I went to town to get some food,” she said. Cedric made an angry face. “I explicitly told you not to!” The girl put the basket, now full of bread and vegetables, on the ground and took down her hood. As she did so, her freckles disappeared and her eyes joined together in one big green eye. “No one could recognise me,” she replied with a smug smile. “Camellia!” Cedric chided. “You could have fallen. You could have lost concentration. You could have gotten scared and then the transformation would have been undone! If they had seen your true cyclops form…” The boy couldn’t continue. He dared not imagine his sister getting hurt in any way. “But we left the mansion in such a hurry! We didn’t pack any lunch and I feared Lady Licorice would be hungry!” the girl protested. “Also, I am really good at turning human with the polymorph spell.” Cedric knew that this was true. His sister may have been clumsy and lightheaded but the magic within her was strong, and she could easily transform into a human, at least for enough time to go to the town to get supplies. Her power had made their lives much easier during the years they had been under the care of the mistress. “I could have gone instead of you,” he mumbled. No he couldn’t. Camellia thought it but didn’t say it aloud. Cedric was smart and talented in many things but he couldn’t hold a two-eyed form for more than five minutes without reverting back. The ability to transform into a human had been a refreshing discovery for her. Finally something she could do well! Cedric had managed to hunt a couple of rabbits with his bow. Shooting an arrow to the place one wanted still seemed more magical to Camellia than Licorice’s spells. The girl had built a fire and roasted a few potatoes and carrots she had just purchased, adding some thyme to increase the flavour. The meat was tender and flavoursome and the vegetables soft and sweet. It was a filling meal and they ate hungrily and in silence. Licorice consulted her diary while the twins cleaned up after lunch. She had some of her charts laid on the ground as well, along with a few very old-looking tomes. “We must go now. We are leaving Victoria,” the mistress said. The cyclopes listened with a mixture of excitement and nerves, for it was the first time in seven years they would travel. “Get your bags and come along with me.” The siblings did as instructed. Licorice produced a sachet, small enough to fit in her open palm. She opened it with the utmost care, revealing a golden sparkling powder inside with a strong scent of rosemary. She took a pinch and sprinkled some over Camellia’s head, a bit over Cedric’s, then some more over herself. Finally, she threw the rest on the ground. “It tickles,” mumbled Cedric, resisting the urge to shake his head. “I like the smell,” whispered his sister. It made her think of strolling in the forest, enjoying a summer day with her brother and their mistress. Licorice closed the sachet and hid it in her dress. She never parted from it, even when she slept, for it was one of her most precious possessions. “Now, grab my hands. No matter what, do not let go,” she ordered. Very carefully, Cedric and Camellia intertwined their hands with Licorice’s thin skeleton fingers. Licorice started chanting and, as she weaved her spell, the powder on the grass emitted a bright gold light. Camellia couldn’t help closing her eye, scared. She could feel a curious sensation deep down in her stomach, like the one you have when you look down at the ground from a really high place. And then, suddenly, everything changed. The moist air of the forest turned arid and hot. The soft grass that was under her feet a moment ago was now scorching sand. She winced, opened her eye and looked around. They were in a desert. A sea of dunes surrounded them. She could see buildings on the horizon. How far, she could not know – she had never been good at judging distances – but hopefully they would reach them before becoming too exhausted. The sunlight burned bright, she thought, moving her gaze towards the sky. She stopped breathing immediately. She could feel her heart racing. She looked, scared, at Licorice and at her twin, who was as pale as her. There were two suns in the sky.

From the top of the hill Licorice could see the town and the smoke over her mansion. The grand building had burnt all night and was now nothing more than black ruins. Licorice had not slept. “They are sweeping the forest with hounds,” Cedric informed her. The mistress was not surprised. Of course they would organise a search. They would also warn the neighbouring villages. It didn’t matter. There was nothing that town could offer her any more. “Good job scouting, Cedric,” she said, her eyes not leaving the manor. “Where is your sister?” Camellia took a deep breath as she entered the little village where she had lived for the last seven years. She pulled down the hood of her cape to cover her face well, only showing her lips. She was dressed smartly and carried a big empty basket. It was winter, so large woollen mittens covered her hands. It wasn’t the first time she had been in town to buy some supplies but, after the events that had taken place the previous evening, walking amongst normal people seemed stranger than ever. The danger was more real. With their hurried escape, they had not taken any provisions and, as a faithful servant, she was not going to let her mistress starve. She had summoned all the courage she could muster and had strolled down the hill. It was drizzling, which was the normal weather in Victoria. The sky was grey, thick with clouds, and the streets, made of dirt and cobblestones, were muddy. She was soon on the high street, the widest one, where carriages pulled by one or two horses passed by, forcing her to stick close to the buildings in order to avoid the occasional splash from a puddle. Cedric had once described the town as sort of depressing. Villagers went about their business sombrely and in silence, dressed mostly in dull-coloured clothing. The tall buildings, some up to three storeys high, were made of wood and painted in black and white, and the dim light of the lanterns at night made shadows out of everything. Camellia disagreed with her brother, for she had loved it there. She adored the wet atmosphere and found the houses so elegant with their big windows and pointed roofs. She liked the sound her shoes made on the cobbled streets. As she passed the seamstress she stopped by the shop window to admire the fabrics. She already had several beautiful dresses for herself but she still couldn’t help looking at them, thinking how she would like to touch them. That was not her purpose today, so she turned down the street towards the market. The marketplace was as lively as ever. The townsfolk’s restraint disappeared in the public square, which was surrounded by shops and filled with various stalls. Sellers were shouting and customers haggling. Camellia passed by the fisherman’s stall. She loved fish. After seven years it was still a novelty for her. The girl was tempted to purchase a nice big fat haddock but decided she needed food that would last longer, as they were about to start a long journey. So, instead, she went to the bakery. Even before entering the shop, her mouth watered at the smell of freshly baked bread and pastries. There were butter biscuits, almond rings, ginger cakes and even her brother’s favourites: lemon tarts. She could hear her stomach rumbling loudly and remembered she had not eaten supper the night before. She stood in front of the door, trying to convince herself not to buy any sweets and only the necessary supplies, when a hand shook her shoulder. “You, girl!” She turned and felt the blood rush from her face. It was the town’s mayor, the same man who had condemned mistress Licorice the evening before. “What are you doing on your own?” Camellia had practised her reply thousands of times in her head but still couldn’t help stuttering a bit. “I…I…I… my mother sent me to get some supplies. She is ill in bed and couldn’t come.” The man seemed unconvinced. “And who is this mother of yours?” Camellia felt a nervous chill run down her spine. She wanted to turn and rush away, but that would have been as bad as confessing her true identity. “My mother is Elanor Baggins,” she said, a fake name she had taken from a book. “We just moved in, sir. We are staying at Oakswood Farm.” Oakswood Farm was far away and its owners barely went to the town, so news of an arrival could have been delayed. She saw the mayor ponder it and then nod. “Good enough, be on your way and send my regards to…” “Wait!” It was the mayor’s wife, who now looked at Camellia with distrust. “Look at her hair, darling! Copper-coloured and braided, just like one of those horrible one-eyed monsters!” Camellia stopped breathing. A crowd had quickly surrounded her. “And they were small, like children, too,” one of the villagers interjected. “Take off her hood!” The woman took the trim of the red hood and pulled it back, slowly. The villagers fell silent and Camellia turned her head slightly to look at her reflection in the shop windows. Two green eyes over a tiny freckle-covered nose returned her gaze. Relieved, she let out the breath she had been holding. She turned to the mayor and tried to look scared. It wasn’t difficult as she was still quite shaken. “Look at what you have done,” said the man to his wife in disgust. “You scared the lass out of her wits.” The woman shook her head. “Oh dear, I don’t know what has gotten into me,” she mumbled. “What is your name, girl?” “Rosie,” replied Camellia almost instantly, and then added: “Rosie Baggins.” By now the crowd had dissipated, everyone returning to their chores and obligations. “You must excuse us, Rosie,” apologised the mayor. She still wanted to run away but now a part of her was more curious than afraid. So she decided to ask a question, sounding as innocent as she could. “Mister… what did you mean by monsters?” The mayor looked at her gravely. “Listen to me, young child,” he said. “Just a day ago, in this town, there lived a witch!” “A witch?” she exclaimed, quickly making the sign Licorice had told her humans in the village did when they wanted to protect themselves from evil. “Yes. Moreover, with her lived these hideous creatures, deformed beyond all humanity, for they had only one eye and animal claws as hands.” Camellia opened her eyes wide in surprise. It was a bit difficult, because she had to make sure both eyes widened the same amount and in unison. “But do not worry, little one,” added the mayor’s wife. “We drove them away and, hopefully, now the town will be safe again!” “However, it is still dangerous for children to go around alone,” continued the man, “for the witch may be lurking in the forest… They say she can see in the dark and transform into a heinous wolf.” The girl nodded, thinking that the conversation had dragged on long enough. “I will make sure to get my supplies and hurry home, then. Thank you for your wise counsel, sir and gentle lady.” The mayor’s wife looked pleased to be called lady and gave Camellia some fresh fruit. The couple smiled and passed on their regards to the farmers at Oakswood, then walked away. Feeling more secure than ever, Camellia entered the bakery. It was midday when she joined her brother and mistress in the forest. When she was asked where she had been she looked at them with her two eyes and an innocent expression. “I went to town to get some food,” she said. Cedric made an angry face. “I explicitly told you not to!” The girl put the basket, now full of bread and vegetables, on the ground and took down her hood. As she did so, her freckles disappeared and her eyes joined together in one big green eye. “No one could recognise me,” she replied with a smug smile. “Camellia!” Cedric chided. “You could have fallen. You could have lost concentration. You could have gotten scared and then the transformation would have been undone! If they had seen your true cyclops form…” The boy couldn’t continue. He dared not imagine his sister getting hurt in any way. “But we left the mansion in such a hurry! We didn’t pack any lunch and I feared Lady Licorice would be hungry!” the girl protested. “Also, I am really good at turning human with the polymorph spell.” Cedric knew that this was true. His sister may have been clumsy and lightheaded but the magic within her was strong, and she could easily transform into a human, at least for enough time to go to the town to get supplies. Her power had made their lives much easier during the years they had been under the care of the mistress. “I could have gone instead of you,” he mumbled. No he couldn’t. Camellia thought it but didn’t say it aloud. Cedric was smart and talented in many things but he couldn’t hold a two-eyed form for more than five minutes without reverting back. The ability to transform into a human had been a refreshing discovery for her. Finally something she could do well! Cedric had managed to hunt a couple of rabbits with his bow. Shooting an arrow to the place one wanted still seemed more magical to Camellia than Licorice’s spells. The girl had built a fire and roasted a few potatoes and carrots she had just purchased, adding some thyme to increase the flavour. The meat was tender and flavoursome and the vegetables soft and sweet. It was a filling meal and they ate hungrily and in silence. Licorice consulted her diary while the twins cleaned up after lunch. She had some of her charts laid on the ground as well, along with a few very old-looking tomes. “We must go now. We are leaving Victoria,” the mistress said. The cyclopes listened with a mixture of excitement and nerves, for it was the first time in seven years they would travel. “Get your bags and come along with me.” The siblings did as instructed. Licorice produced a sachet, small enough to fit in her open palm. She opened it with the utmost care, revealing a golden sparkling powder inside with a strong scent of rosemary. She took a pinch and sprinkled some over Camellia’s head, a bit over Cedric’s, then some more over herself. Finally, she threw the rest on the ground. “It tickles,” mumbled Cedric, resisting the urge to shake his head. “I like the smell,” whispered his sister. It made her think of strolling in the forest, enjoying a summer day with her brother and their mistress. Licorice closed the sachet and hid it in her dress. She never parted from it, even when she slept, for it was one of her most precious possessions. “Now, grab my hands. No matter what, do not let go,” she ordered. Very carefully, Cedric and Camellia intertwined their hands with Licorice’s thin skeleton fingers. Licorice started chanting and, as she weaved her spell, the powder on the grass emitted a bright gold light. Camellia couldn’t help closing her eye, scared. She could feel a curious sensation deep down in her stomach, like the one you have when you look down at the ground from a really high place. And then, suddenly, everything changed. The moist air of the forest turned arid and hot. The soft grass that was under her feet a moment ago was now scorching sand. She winced, opened her eye and looked around. They were in a desert. A sea of dunes surrounded them. She could see buildings on the horizon. How far, she could not know – she had never been good at judging distances – but hopefully they would reach them before becoming too exhausted. The sunlight burned bright, she thought, moving her gaze towards the sky. She stopped breathing immediately. She could feel her heart racing. She looked, scared, at Licorice and at her twin, who was as pale as her. There were two suns in the sky.

The two suns were rising, one almost over the horizon, the other still half hidden. The light, just warm, caressed the sand dunes still cold from the night, while clear blue filled the black sky. Luna gently shook Camellia and Cedric awake. “Wake up,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper. Camellia blinked, still half asleep. “Why?” she heard Cedric mumbling. “We have to gather water for the day,” Luna replied. “And now is the perfect time for it as it will be too hot later, when the temperature rises and the sources dry out. Licht said you two would help.” The twins stretched and rose, picking up their canteens. They followed a dry riverbed until they found some wet soil. Luna told them to dig a hole, about twelve inches deep, and a pool of water appeared. The water was muddy, but it would be fine once the sediment had settled and the water was boiled. “You can also find water in indentations on the rocks, especially after a thunderstorm,” she explained to the twins. They stopped by some bushes that were covered in a spiky yellowish fruit. Carefully, they picked some of them. Luna showed them how to open them with a knife and get to the sweet tangy pulp. After they had eaten breakfast, the group finished packing their things, ready to continue on their journey. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” asked Litch. “We can carry you on the gliders.” “We still have some things to do here,” replied Cedric to his old friend. “We will be fine, don’t worry about it.” The young man shrugged and hugged the twins, squashing them against his chest. “I am glad we could meet again,” he said. “We are too,” replied Cedric, feeling a lump in his throat. “And stop growing, you hear me?” Litch laughed. “No, you two start growing up! Seriously now,” he ruffled their hair, “we will see each other again, won’t we?” Camellia hugged him back, tightly. “We promise! We will meet again!” They waved goodbye as the gliders disappeared over the horizon. Now that there was no danger, the cyclopes and their mistress continued the search of the ruined village, although they didn’t have any more luck than the previous day. They finally entered the smallest dwelling, the last to be inspected and the most well-preserved. “Not much left…” whispered Licorice in disappointment. The house was not as empty as the others. “There are a few ceramic pots and utensils in here,” said Cedric. He placed one of them in his sister’s hand. It was a small clay bowl with white trees painted on it. The paint had faded over time. They also found spoons, forks and knives. Strikingly, there were two circles on each bowl, blade and plate rim. They couldn’t figure out what it meant, if it meant anything. The bed frame in the bedroom was almost destroyed and the mattress was missing, but a small cot still stood by its side. It was simple and wooden, like the rest of the furniture. Camellia pushed it gently and the cot rocked from side to side, making a soft creaking sound. Cedric called over to his sister. “Look, Cammy, I found clothes!” he said They were cheap rags, but what surprised them the most were the gloves. They had only three fingers. They searched the home from top to bottom and found a few more trinkets, including a large monocle they couldn’t figure out how to put on. “If there was any clue here, it is long gone,” Licorice concluded. “I should have known.” They felt defeated. Cedric and the mistress started discussing what their next step would be. They couldn’t go back to their home in Victoria, there was no home there any more. Camellia followed them and was about to leave the dwelling when she saw it, tossed onto the floor and covered in dirt and dust: a ragdoll. She could see the feet and the pink dress, her face hidden under a pile of rubble. She carefully uncovered the doll, discovering brown hair made of wool. It was when she turned it to face her that her breathing stopped altogether. The face was plain: a red thread sewn to make a smiling mouth, and one, just one, big blue button as an eye. “Cedric,” her voice was a low whisper. Her brother stopped in his tracks. Suddenly everything made sense to them, the three-fingered gloves, the monocle, the doll. Her brother took the ragdoll, his mouth open in surprise. He gazed towards the mistress. “Who lived here?” Licorice sighed. “I believe these are the ruins of a cyclopes’ settlement,” she said. “Could it be…,” Camellia did not dare to ask. “It could. It might have even been your family who lived here.” The twins exchanged a look. They could not remember anything from their life before the orphanage. “What happened to them? What happened to the other cyclopes?” Camellia had always assumed they were the only ones. She had never seen one of her species apart from her brother. But the mistress shook her head. “I don’t know.” They decided to head to the orphanage they had grown up in. Located in a nearby town, the orphanage was the biggest building around, just at the end of the large market street. It was made of grey stone with a white tiled roof, in contrast to the smaller sandy-coloured houses with flat roofs that surrounded it. The windows were tall and thin, fitted with thick glass panels. Open stalls, full of boxes of different foods, from dried and cured meats to exotic nuts and fruits, lined the streets. Camellia could remember running along those alleys, savouring the smells as her stomach clenched hungrily. The orphanage building had not changed at all, although the large wrought iron gate was now closed shut and covered in thick chains. “Excuse me,” Cedric said to a passer-by, a fat woman carrying a basket full of bread. “Is the orphanage closed?” The woman gazed at the twins and Licorice, wary of their weird appearance, but she replied politely. “It is. It has been for years now. That place was horrible, the way they treated the little kids. It was a blot on our town. If you ask me, they should demolish the building so we can all forget about it.” She continued down the street without another word. Camellia jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. An old man, a really old man, was standing in front of them. Before they could say anything he stroked his long greyish beard and spoke. “I hope I did not startle you, little one. It has just been so long since I saw a cyclops like you.” The man introduced himself as a travelling merchant. “Although now I am retired, of course. These bones are far too old for adventures. My sons manage the business while I keep my small shop,” he told them cheerfully, inviting them in. They passed rows of rugs and pots filled with different spices and came to a door behind the counter. The room was nicely decorated with exotic furniture. They sat on colourful silk cushions on the floor, around a small table, and he offered the thirsty guests some prickly pear cactus juice with pine nuts, grapes and dates to nibble on. “In my youth,” he said once they had got settled, “and I am talking many years ago, I used to travel around this area and beyond. One of my stops was at the ruins nearby. Although, at that time, they weren’t ruins but a lively and busy village. The town of your people, I guess.” The man leaned back and closed his eyes, as if that helped his memory. “They were peaceful people those cyclopes. And hospitable. Whenever we turned up they would offer us food and shelter. They loved hearing stories of our travels and they were good at making magic trinkets. We are not speaking of powerful magic here but easy day-to-day spells they fused with small objects to help them in their daily lives. Which reminds me…” He stood and opened the top drawer of one of the intricately decorated chests, a low cabinet made of polished wood with various small rodent-like animals sculpted in relief. From it, he took out a compass. He showed it to the group. It looked like a normal compass until they noticed the needle was not pointing north. “This was made by your people and has saved my life several times in the desert. It points to the most highly valued liquid on this planet: water,” the man said, proudly. Licorice took a sip of her drink, unimpressed. “Do you know what happened to them?” she asked. The man’s smile faded. “I only know what I was told, for I did not see it myself. It was during the night. They said the canons could be heard from here. Some people could see the ships in the distance, big wooden sand cruisers with black wheels and sails, propelled by the wind as well as fuel, leaving a trail of dark smoke behind them. When the local guards reached the cyclopes’ town it was too late. Several houses laid in ruins, all the valuables were gone and there was no one to be seen. They had taken them all.” “Pirates,” mumbled Cedric, his face pale with shock. “What could they have done with the cyclopes?” asked Camellia, fearing the answer. The merchant averted his gaze and the room fell silent. “They were likely sold as slaves, who knows where,” he answered in the end. This was it. This was the end of their trail. Any hopes of finding their family were crushed. “Years later, two baby cyclopes appeared in the orphanage, left in the middle of the night during a long cold winter,” continued the man. “I am assuming this was