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“Yes, the red dragon has fallen,” Fiska said as she shoved the last of the scattered supplies into her sack, “and now we need to move.” She strode toward the edge of the clearing. “If we hurry, we may still reach Teionyr before the Dark Fae army does.”

Aeldyn hurried to the passenger door of my truck and slid in, scooting to the middle of the bench seat.

I pivoted sideways, gaping between Rake and Chairman Hart. “You know each other?”

We continued to channel our magic steadily into the dragon for a few more moments.

We dropped onto the damp pavement of the townhouse subdivision, where the scent of recent rain still hung in the air. The old Fae woman’s familiar front stoop stood in front of us, her orange door glaring at us in begrudging welcome.

NOTE: The below story was written by my 13-year-old daughter, Aurora, and is shared here with her permission. (In fact, we decided together to create a category for her stories here on my blog, so I can share more of her writing here in the future since she's an aspiring author!) For more context about the (somewhat-humorous) impetus for her writing this story, see my Facebook post. ****** Story's Story July 17, of 2029, a beautiful baby was born in Fairy Forest. She was so b

Pops and I re-entered Rake’s med room, with Chairman Hart directly behind us. The door slid shut, closing us in.

The trees snapped under the weight of the red dragon’s body as it plummeted, writhing and flailing. It almost looked like it was wrestling with something.

Aeldyn continued, her voice breaking. “I never saw her, but… my mom’s energy was there. After that, I just kept going back to Aeden and opening it, hoping…” She sighed. “But she was gone.”

Only once I was back inside the med room, with Rake still unconscious on the table in the blood-stained robe, did I realize the nurse’s summons could’ve been a trap.