“There is no way you can hope to win this.”

The words of my tactical advisor sounded hollow and empty as an icy wind blew around me. Even though I had tied it back from my face, my dark hair and cloak blew behind me. The afternoon sun held no warmth as it hid behind the clouds. Winter had been long and harsh, and it showed no sign of letting up, adding to my already staggering sense of hopelessness.

“Perhaps,” I replied to my advisor, my black eyes staring out into the mountain range instead of looking at him. “But I have lost too many soldiers in this war. This is the best way for this conflict to end, one way or another.”

My advisor turned toward me, his brow furrowed together, and his arms folded. “How is your sacrificing yourself going to end this? How are we supposed to keep moral up? If you’re ….”

“We’re already losing, Kotaro!” I snapped. I bit my lip and looked away; afraid my face would give away how fast my confidence was fading, confidence I never really had.

Kotaro stepped toward me, his armor rustling. “The Emperor has years of experience past you. He’s lived off of bloodshed. He will defeat and kill you without a second thought. If you back out of the dual, we still have a chance to push his forces back.”

But I was shaking my head. “I have already given my word. I must fight when the sunset begins.” I turned away from the bluff, leaving the mountains behind me. “If we are going to lose this war, we will lose it with as little blood-shed as possible.”

Kotaro began to speak, but I held up my hand. I would not let him change my mind.

“I need you to prepare them,” I said. “Make sure everything is ready.” I started to leave; then I stopped. “Who are we to judge the Fates? Perhaps they will be kind to us today.”

But the Fates had not been kind to us in centuries. I did not dare to hope that today would be different.

I clenched my fists to keep them from shaking. I had been king for only a year, after the assassination of my father and my sister. Our situation already dire, each battle under my command had been a disaster, pushing our defenses back closer and closer to the capitol. Our enemy, the nations from the south led by the Demon’s Blade, had issued a challenge: For me, the leader of my nation, to fight him in single combat, to the death. Whoever lost, their army would surrender under the set conditions agreed upon by both parties. Though I had trained as a warrior since childhood, I was young. The Emperor had far more experience than I. He would not hesitate to kill me if he got the chance.

I was pulled from my thoughts when I noticed a lone foot soldier. He was staring toward the mountains, his shoulders hunched and arms crossed as he shivered in the cold. He wasn’t in the Royal Guard; he appeared to be one of the draftees from one of the many farms in the kingdom.

“You should be taking shelter in the tents,” I called to him.

He turned, then gave a start of surprise when he saw that it was me.

“Y-your Majesty!” he stuttered, partly from surprise and partly from the cold, scrambling to kneel in the snow.

I shook my head and stepped forward, taking his arm and pulling him to his feet. “Please, enough,” I said, suddenly feeling very tired. I did not feel deserving of such respect, having nearly brought my country to ruin. I motioned to the mountains, anxious to change the subject. “What are you looking at?”

The soldier motioned toward the mountain range and I followed his motion to the largest mountain. “I was looking at Guardian Peak, your Majesty.”

“What for?” I asked. The mountain didn’t look any different to me.

The soldier looked down and shuffled his feet. “Today is the Memory Festival,” he muttered.

I folded my arms and tilted my head to one side. “Memory Festival?” I asked. I had never heard of it before. “What’s that?”

The soldier hesitated, then said carefully, “It’s when we send our thanks to our protector and honor him, honor … the Dragon.”

Ah. I remembered this soldier now. I had heard talk of him spreading tales of the Dragon, the being who was supposedly supposed to protect our nation. Any sort of belief I had once held in the old legends had been dashed away in this war. If the Dragon was supposed to protect us, then where was he when my sister and father were killed? Where was he now, with the enemy almost upon the capitol?

I shook my head. “You believe in him? After all that’s said he did to us?” Most of the old legends ended with the tale of how the Dragon had turned against us, bring fire and destruction upon villages and cities before finally retreating to the mountains. Specifically, to Guardian Peak, hence its name.

But the soldier was shaking his head. “No, I don’t believe the legends, but I do believe in the Dragon.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “How?” I asked incredulously. “What is there to believe in?”

The soldier looked back at the mountain. “My father used to take me there every year. There’s a stone statue of the dragon there.” His gaze seemed to grow distant as he continued; “I remember the first time he took me there. I had heard the stories, too, of how dangerous and angry the dragon was.”

I glanced at the mountain. “What changed your mind?” I asked.

“The Dragon,” the soldier replied. Seeing my confusion, he explained. “I was afraid of the statue at first, but the statue is positioned with its head low to the ground; low enough that even I could reach him. My father explained that he stays so low to be close to us, because he wants to help us, but we forgot who he was.” He continued, but he lowered his voice to a reverent whisper. “We both gave him a lantern that day. After that, whenever we went back to the mountain, I’m almost certain his eyes were … glowing.”

“And you think that, if everyone were to ‘believe’ in the Dragon again, that he would … come back?”

The soldier thought for a moment, then nodded carefully. “Yes … yes, I do.”

The sound of a horn and many footsteps drew my attention toward the bluff. I was greeted by the sight of an army, black flags bearing the crest of a red spider lily flew among them, the sun just beginning to sink. The Southern Empire had arrived.

I scowled and placed a hand on the hilt of my sword. The soldier looked first at the army that had come, then at me. “May the Dragon protect you, your Majesty,” he said softly, bowing deeply. I returned his bow, though I did not return his sentiment. After we had both risen from our bows, I began to walk through the snow to the appointed dueling grounds.

The time for my battle had come.

*  * *

Our swords met with a rattling clang! The Emperor shoved me backward, leaving my defenses open as I struggled to keep my balance. His sword flashed toward my neck, but I raised my arm, the hidden blade I had concealed in my sleeve redirecting the blade. The strike missed my face but cut the strap of my helmet. The helmet fell from my head and hit the snow beneath me with a dull thud. I was already bleeding from several cuts on my arms and face.

I limped from an injury to my leg and foot, which slowed me down considerably. I steadied myself and held my sword ready, watching the Emperor as we began circling each other. His armor was black, the red spider lily crest displayed on his shoulders, a mask and his helmet obscuring his face. The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the mountains, hours after the duel had begun. I had held my ground at first, but had rapidly begun to lose ground to the strength and speed of his blows.

“I didn’t think that this fight would be this easy,” the Emperor muttered, contempt evident in his voice. I wiped sweat from my forehead, breathing hard. As Kotaro and I had suspected, I was no match for this enemy. He wasn’t even breathing hard, while I was beginning to tire. I did not answer the Emperor’s taunts. Instead, I began a new flurry of strikes, aiming for his head, then diagonally for his shoulders and legs. He blocked or dodged every strike, seemingly without any difficulty. He parried one of my blows, and he was in charge, raining down strike after heavy strike, so heavy that I staggered under them as I caught them on my sword or one of the hidden knives in my sleeves.

“Why did they make a boy like you their King?” The Emperor muttered.

“They didn’t have much choice after you murdered my family!” I growled through gritted teeth. I attacked him with renewed ferocity, and felt my blade bite the flesh of his arm. The Emperor clicked his tongue and kicked me back, throwing me off balance once more. The Emperor did not wait this time. He kneed me in the stomach, then, when I tried to get up, smacked the back of my head with the hilt of his sword. Somehow, I didn’t lose consciousness, but my vision blurred and began to go dark. I rolled onto my back, trying to find the strength to get back up, but I knew that I couldn’t get up in time.

“You should have surrendered when you had the chance, boy,” The Emperor said a small hint of regret in his voice. He raised his sword to deliver my end, but something caught my eye.

A flying lantern, floating out from the bluff. The soldier must have sent his lantern to the Dragon from here. At first, the lantern was alone, but then, to my surprise, more lanterns joined it. Just a few at first, then ten, twenty. More and more lanterns floated out from the bluff until the sky was filled with hundreds, all flying toward the mountains. Could they all be for the Dragon? Could the soldier’s stories really have reached so many people?

I watched the lanterns in the sky; time seeming to slow down.  Please, Dragon, I thought. I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you are even real. I know that I have never given you any sort of lantern or respect, but please … I have failed my people. I couldn’t save them. Please, protect them!

I don’t know why, but somehow in that moment, as the Emperor began to lower his sword in his final, killing strike, I felt a spark of hoped bloom in my chest as a blinding light pierced through the darkness and an earth-shaking roar echoed through the air.

The Dragon, at long last, had returned.