Natalie Yacobson - Swan and Dragon. Dragon Empire

The princess knew that now he was preparing to perform some ancient, witchcraft rite. She wanted to break free, but the guards held her tightly, not even allowing her to move.

“For a long time I have chosen punishment for you from the list of permissible, but none of them will pay off the sins you have committed,” the judge spoke again in a sparkling crown. “By agreement of our council, I have the right to resort to the hitherto forbidden punishment. The execution is canceled. Instead, I put the Swan Curse on you.”

Rose stared at him in disbelief. She didn’t understand anything. A triumphant guffaw echoed through the hall. Rose managed to turn around, but did not see a single juror. All the places were empty, only a screaming flock of gyrfalcons, hawks and other birds flew through the opened doors and disappeared into the pitch darkness.

“Let them fly away!” The hunchback grunted imperiously. “The ritual must be performed without unnecessary witnesses.”

He stared at his captive and began to whisper quietly some incomprehensible, meaningless words for a common man. The hypnosis emanated from him with a dark, strong thread and twisted around Rose. Rose looked into the burning eyes of the wizard, and it seemed to her that she was standing on the edge of a raging, fiery abyss. The princess was seized with a fever. Fainting approached her like a stranger wrapped in a dark cloak.

The hunchback drew a sharp, instructed dagger from his belt and cut one strand of hair from Rose’s head. A strand of black snake curled around the sharpened blade before the sorcerer lowered the dagger into a bowl filled with hissing, silvery liquid. Upon contact with the strand and metal, it immediately turned into a deep, black color.

Rosa watched the sorcerer’s actions in fascination. His words and gestures were incomprehensible to her. Here he covers the bowl with a piece of purple satin with bird heads embroidered on it. Then he pulls out a box filled with shimmering, silver pollen.

The girl made another desperate attempt to escape, but it was too late. The sorcerer poured the contents of the ominous box directly onto Rose’s head. Sugar dust covered her face. Thorny grains fell on the dress, tangled in her hair. Nausea rose in her throat. The eyes grew dim. A sharp pain shot through her left arm, as if someone had slashed a knife across the wrist.

At that moment, the guards released their prisoner. Loud laughter echoed through the gloomy void. Rose held out her hand. It was no longer a hand. The fingers extended into long swan feathers, the wrist extended to the size of a bird’s wing. Dizziness close to fainting did not allow horror to take over the mind during the transformation. The girl disappeared, instead of her a beautiful, black swan circled under the ceiling, trying to break free from the stuffy dungeon. The windows and doors were closed. The bird in vain rushed from corner to corner in search of a way out.

“And you will be a swan until the end of the century,” the end of the spell sounded gloating and solemn.

The hunchback removed all the ritual accessories. He reread the contract for the last time and hid it in a drawer. The swan, beating in despair against the glass of the high window, brought a smug smile to his face.

Meanwhile, sparkling feathers fell from the black wings. The swan slowly descended. The plumage disappeared, but the eye could not see the entire sequence of transformations.

The sorcerer stared doubtfully at the strange scene before him. Had he misread the spell? The condemned woman was supposed to become a bird forever, but a few minutes passed and she lost her swan appearance. On the floor, barely breathing, lay no longer a bird, but the old beauty in gold.

Rose propped herself up on her elbows. Her whole body ached after the transformation. The heart beat a frantic rhythm. The arms, which had been wings a moment ago, ached and bled. Overcoming the pain, the girl got to her feet. Bending under the weight of his hump, the sorcerer rushed towards her. Something flashed in his hand like a purple star. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze thundered with rage.

In the blink of an eye, he grabbed the victim’s wrist, preventing her from moving her hand and put a ring with a huge amethyst on her thin finger. Cold metal gripped the finger, almost burnt into the skin. Rose tried to remove the ring, but it seemed to adhere to her hand.

Meanwhile, the doors of the hall opened, releasing the head of the gloomy congregation and his servants, and slammed again. Wandering lights danced on the walls. Rose was left alone, among the empty benches and stands. Dark evil dwelt here. A quiet, barely audible whisper came from the silence.

“Let the dragon come for you!” someone whispered very close. Rose looked at her hand and realized in horror that the voice was coming from the glowing stone on the ring. All its facets shimmered, and in the dull violet depth a pale, tiny face flashed and disappeared.

The silence echoed with a hellish roar. It seemed to Rose that all the sunlight was concentrated behind a huge high window and eclipsed the night stars. But the sun couldn’t shine so brightly. It was not a fiery disk that lit up the skies, but a majestic, huge silhouette of a winged dragon, like magic, that appeared in the distance. The dragon was approaching. Fire burst from its mouth.

Rose couldn’t believe she was seeing him. Here he is, the heavenly ruler, the kidnapper of young virgins. From his roar the earth cracked and the heavenly heights tore apart. The rumble made Rosea bleed from her ears. The dragon’s fiery breath scorched the air. The walls were hot from the heat. It seemed to Rose that she was in hell.

Metal wings flapped continuously, and the girl thought that it was a hammer knocking on an anvil. An intolerable golden glow dazzled the eyes. A clawed paw scratched the glass on the window. But the dragon is too big for such a narrow opening. He can’t get in here. Rose began to faint. The ring squeezed her finger even tighter.

For a moment there was a saving silence, then a strong blow followed. The window and part of the wall shattered from his force. A waterfall of chips and stones gushed down. A powerful gust of wind tore at the girl’s hair. She lifted her head to meet the stern, flickering gaze of the dragon flying towards her.

Golden wings whistled through the air and caught the wind. These sounds were like a song.

Strong paws with long claws grabbed Rosa and easily, like a feather, tore her off the floor. A moment later, the dragon with its prey was already hovering high in the sky.

The island was left far behind, the Silver River from the height of the clouds seemed like a narrow, trembling thread, and the villages were scattered on the ground in cubes. Nothing could slow down the frantic flight in the sky. The dragon soared even higher, not releasing its prey from its claws.

Gusts of icy wind whipped Rose across the face. The earth was already out of sight. The cold light of the stars reflected in the dragon scales.

An arrow dropped from a bowstring does not fly as fast as this glittering monster. The dragon raced forward, flapping golden wings incessantly. The whistling wind enveloped them. Then he slowed down and began to descend, slowly and smoothly. Rose saw the land, like one airy snowball.

The dragon sank even lower, so that the sloping roofs of the village houses became visible. Residents poured out into the street and pointed their hands up. Some were shouting something, others rushed into the loose. Flakes of snow swirled in the icy air, blocking the look of fear on their faces.

The dragon sank very low and suddenly breathed fire. Rose covered her face with her free hand. The heat from the fire scorched her cheeks, but the flame itself did not touch her. But the roofs of the houses flared up like dry rods. Orange sparks spread to the fragile, thatched roofs of barns and dovecotes.