True Faith

“You wouldn't happen to have any pictorial books on dragons, would you?” Jael asked the old bookstore owner.

The old man's eyebrows rose. “I think you're going to give Kay here a run for his money,” he chuckled, nodding in Kay's general direction. “You've been in an out almost as much as him for the past month or so.” He leaned forward on the counter with a small smirk on his cracked lips. “And always for books on dragons.”

Jael cleared her throat, avoided Kay's sudden hard stare and shrugged a little, putting on a flippant smile. “What can I say? They're fascinating creatures,” she said with a forced chuckle.

“Never saw the appeal in 'em myself,” the shopkeep said.

“Not many do,” Kay muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Anyway,” the old man said, “what was it you were looking for?”

“Pictorial dragon books?” Jael asked, hopeful.

“He doesn't have any,” Kay replied before the store owner could open his mouth.  “But I do.”

Jael's eyebrows rose curiously. “You do?”

“Yeah. If you come to my house, I'll gladly show you.”

She almost regretted the uneasy groan that rose up from the back of her throat. “I suppose I could,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kay gave her half a smirk. “If you don't want to, I'm not holding a gun to your head.”

“It's not that I don't want to,” she explained, eyes focused on the toes of her boots, “it's just that...” If Draco found out she went to a stranger's house, she would never hear the end of it. Of course she could have argued that she knew Kay, having seen him every time she came to the bookstore, but Draco would, of course, have none of that. Kay was nothing more than a friendly acquaintance in his honest opinion.

“That...?”

“Eh, nothing,” Jael said quietly. “Let's just be quick about it, alright?”

Kay was already heading for the door when he asked in the most casual of manners, “what's the rush?”

Bidding the shopkeep farewell, Jael rushed to catch up with Kay and walk out into the light snowfall at his side. “Draco will worry,” Jael said simply.

“Dragon-man can wait,” Kay said. Jael's blood ran colder than the snow falling.

“What?”

Kay smirked at her, shoving his bare hands into his coat pockets. “Draco means dragon,” he explained, “or didn't you know?”

She breathed a small sigh of relief. “Oh, right. I knew that.”

“Uh huh.” He sounded like he had his doubts.

Glaring somewhat, she asked, “so where do you live, anyway?”

“Not too far from here,” he replied.

And he had meant that quite literally. Kay lived barely two streets away from the bookstore, and Jael couldn't help but figure that was so perfectly convenient for him.

“Take your coat off,” Kay said and pointed to a few hooks he had on the wall near the door, “and hang it there, and just shove your boots onto that mat.”

Jael nodded and unzipped her coat. After she'd slipped it off, she hung it beside Kay's coat, then put her boots beside his after she'd taken them off.

“Now come with me,” Kay instructed, motioning for her to follow him into the bedroom. She did, and stopped when she found him hunched over in his closet, shoving books and blankets aside.

“What are you doing?” Jael asked, cocking her head to the side and watching idly as a pair of mismatched socks were flung over the young man's shoulder.

“Getting that book for you,” he said, voice muffled as he leaned into his closet a little more. A sneaker and a moth-eaten sweater later, he reared back on his toes and stood, spinning on his heal to face Jael. “Found it.”

She took the book as he offered it and sat slowly onto his bed. “This looks like a sketch book,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

He sat down beside her, hands braced on his kneecaps. “It is. It's my old sketch book, and it has more dragons in it than any historic book you'll come across.”

Jael opened the book up, and didn't bother to try and stifle the gasp of surprise that slipped free from her mouth. “Oh my,” she breathed, looking from the black and white image of a dragon to Kay, “that's amazing.”

“Thanks,” Kay said, head cocked to one side as he watched her flip through the old sketches. In his opinion they weren't as good as they could have been, nothing compared to what he could draw now. She lingered on the last page, brow wrinkled in thought as she ran her fingertips lightly over the incomplete image.

“How come this one isn't finished?”

Kay shrugged. “His story wasn't finished when I found him.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he looked at the unfinished drawing. “When I was a kid, I'd find my inspiration in the weirdest places. For dragons, it came from the stars.”

Jael's heart started to race. “From the stars?”

Kay nodded. “I heard this legend a long time ago about how worthy dragon souls turned into stars.”

“I heard something similar,” she muttered, staring hard at the sketch again. It looked familiar, but for the life of her she could not place it.

“Oh? Where from?” He questioned, standing. She closed the book, placed it on the bed and stood as well.

“Draco,” she said, following him into the living room. “Why? Does it matter?”

He was silent as he lead her into the middle of the room. Keeping his back to her, he chewed lightly on his bottom lip, staring ahead. With a small, but pleasant sigh, he glanced over his shoulder to her.

“You know,” Kay said as he walked away from her and toward a small bookcase mounted on the wall of the living room, “I have something I think you should read.”

“And what's that?” Jael asked, hands clasped behind her back as she spun slowly on her heel, looking the room over. She took note of the white paint, the dated television, the easy chair and the matching sofa.

“This,” he said as he waved a book over his shoulder at her, using his free hand to place the others he'd shifted about properly again.

“This is what, exactly?” Jael asked, watching him walk back over to her.

“Over the years, the title's changed,” he explained, handing the book entitled The Glockenspur Chronicles to her, “and most of it's been reworded, modernized, but I'm sure you'll get the general gist of it.”

Jael carefully opened the aged book, not wanting the spine to break or the pages to tear. She read the passage on the first page, a single sentence; This is the tale of a Knight who slew a Dragon and vanquished Evil.

She looked up to Kay as he sat beside her on the sofa. “Seriously, what is this?”

“Well, the critics say it's the next best thing to Arthurian mythology,” he said, watching as she lowered her gaze again, turning another page gingerly. Jael's blood ran a little cooler, a little slower, as she read the inscription: The Chronicles of Glockenspur, detailing the history of King Einon and the rebellion under His reign as set down by one Gilbert, a Friar. In all that it was worth, it sounded too familiar in its vague description for her liking.

“What is it, really?” She asked in an almost-whisper.

“Exactly what it says,” said Kay.

“Is it a true story?” Jael inquired, skimming through the book resting on her lap, words and phrases catching her eye now and then.

“Read it and then you can tell me.”



Jael spent that night reading, stopping only when she ran out of words. When the dragon died and the star was born. Closing the book and cradling it to her chest as she walked to her bedroom window, reveling in the feel of her heart pounding against the old leather, she felt like a little girl believing in fairy tales again. Eyes on the sky, she wondered if it was all just a coincidence that the instances described on the wearing pages practically mirrored the story Draco had told her weeks ago.

Looking to the heavens, seeing a fading constellation in the distance that formed a dragon for the first time, she had her doubts that it was mere fluke. Whatever remaining shreds of uncertainty that haunted her in her dreams for the rest of the night were disregarded come morning, when Draco greeted her not as a man but as he had come to her, winged and scaled; the most beautiful and imperfect mixture of man and myth.

“Good morning,” Draco said, walking with light steps to the bed.

“Morning,” Jael mumbled, smiling groggily at him as he sat beside her legs hidden under thick blankets meant to keep the early February chills away.

“Did you enjoy your read?” He asked, and Jael nodded, holding up the book that had kept her from the dragon-man last night.

Golden eyes widened a great deal, but Draco was quick to regain his composure. “Ah,” he said, reaching over to gently pry the book from the human's grasp. He  fingered the gold lettering on the black leather cover of the book as he laid it to rest against his lap. Jael, sitting up with a little effort, covered his hand with hers.

“You liked this, did you?” He inquired.

“Very much,” Jael replied, watching him as he opened the book and skimmed through the text. The smile on his lips was almost sad, but it wasn't quite there.

“Yes,” he spoke quietly, “I suppose it is a worthwhile read.”

“It definitely is,” Jael agreed in all seriousness.

“And... do you believe in this?” Draco asked. “In the words of Brother Gilbert?”

There was a distance in his voice, a far-off sense of familiarity, of longing for things worlds away, and Jael had to smile, even if it was bittersweetly.

“I do,” she nodded, running her fingertips over his knuckles, then his fingers until she was able to slide her fingers under his palm. She gave his hand a squeeze.

Draco squeezed her hand back, assuming that was the natural reaction to such a gesture. “I thank you,” he said quietly, “for having such faith.”