I always saw the horizon and I wanted to fly away. I needed to go to see more of it.

Today, I take my flight for the first time. My dragon is ready and so am I. We will finally take off and leave the nest.

Behind me, my mother is crying quietly. My father is disappointed and maybe a bit proud. Or at least I hope he is. I want him to be. After all, beyond the horizon might be war and glory. Or maybe if the Muses don’t help me, I’m flying to my death.

I look back one last time at my village and I smile. I’m so happy to go, whatever the end of my story, I will finally live. I am finally leaving. I know I shouldn’t be only happy, that some part of me should be sad for that life I reject, but I can’t help but falling ahead rather than looking behind me.

I can’t wait for the lift off. I have dreamed of this moment since I first saw the propaganda on the walls of the tavern. Raising a dragon to join the guard. That was a task for me.

I pet Thunder and give her a bite of meat. I can’t help but be proud. She’s kind but deadly, and I trained her well. Or at least I hope so. I will know soon. The masters will tell me for sure.

And then, I see them come. From all around the valley, dragons fly and come to the shore where I was alone an instant before. Ten shiny dragons, sometimes even equipped like horses. Poor dragons. Why use them as animals when you could celebrate and respect them. Be their friends like Thunder is mine.

She looks at them with pity, or at least that’s what I think. Among all, only one doesn’t have a leash of some fashion. I smile at the rider without seeing him, his head being hidden behind a hood.

“Gather round, riders!” Cry an old man I don’t recognise. “I think that’s everyone.

“Who are you, old man?” Ask a rider, still perched on his dragon?

“I am the one to decide if you are worthy or not.” The man answer without a flinch. “And you, might not yet be.”

I smile discreetly. I hope his arrogance will be met. Always pay respect to your elders, that’s what his father told him.

“And you, young man,” the old man points a stick at me now. “You should wipe that sneaky smile of your face.”

“Sorry, sir. I won’t do it again.”

“No you won’t, or I will strike you and kick you out.”

I straighten and look at Thunda. She watches me like she knows better. But maybe she does. Sometimes, when I look at her, I feel like she is way older than me. Like she has lived a thousand lives. Like she can remember all of them. But dragons are not phenixes, right?