body changed faster this time, scales and claws appearing as his flesh disappeared.
“A dragon?” Bastian said from the floor. “Like the one that came to our village. They are also human. But the villagers…they…”
“What dragon?” Stacia snarled at him.
“A turquoise one. It was dangerous. But beautiful.”
“What did you do with her?” Stacia’s anger swept through the room.
“They cut up the dead dragon and ate it.”
"The people of Hutton’s Bridge ate my mother?" Stacia screamed. Her chin dipped down and her arms rose into the air. Her blue gown split in two. Her breasts spilled out the front, swollen and pulsing.
Tressa recoiled. She'd seen this once before. Instead of sticking with Jarrett and Henry, she ran to Bastian's side. She tugged on his arm. "You have to get out of here. Now."
Bastian looked up at her, one eye swollen, his lips caked in blood. "I can't. I'm too injured." He looked at Stacia's body convulsing. "What's going on with her?"
"She's turning into a dragon. It'll take a few minutes."
Bastian's eyes looked at Henry. "Him too?"
Tressa nodded. "Yeah. We can't fight her now. She's going to be too powerful. We have to leave."
"What are you doing here?" Bastian asked. "I thought you'd gone back to Hutton's Bridge. I went there for you. I slayed the beasts in the darkness of the mist. I took down the fog. I did it all for you. But you've been here?"
Tressa nodded. A tear slipped down her cheek. The screams of the two transforming into dragons echoed in the cavernous chamber. "I'm sorry I left you behind. I thought it would be easier for me to sneak in here alone."
"But your father said..." Bastian's throat rattled.
"Shh." Tressa placed a finger over his lips. "Don't talk. I need to get you out of here and healed."
Bastian's eyes tore away from hers. She followed his gaze to Stacia. Her limbs were no longer human like theirs. Blue scales sprouted along the lengthening appendages. Her nails grew into talons. Her long braid disappeared and a tail grew from the lower part of her back, just as dangerous as the braid she wielded.
"It's okay," Tressa whispered, "Henry is a dragon too."
"Is he powerful enough," Bastian said. "He looks like a boy."
Jarrett stood watch over his charge. Tressa could see the worry lines around his eyes. This wasn't what they'd planned. Killing Stacia in her human form would be much easier. As a dragon, she'd kill them all. Even Henry who hadn't ever fought as a dragon. She'd eat him alive.
"Go!" Jarrett yelled to Tressa.
"I can't leave Bastian," she called back over the deafening screams.
Jarrett's expression changed, only for a moment, from fear to sadness. He glanced down at Henry, then ran to Tressa's side. Bending down, he slipped an arm around Bastian's trunk. "Help me," he said to Tressa.
She wrapped her arms around Bastian, letting her sword clank to the floor. Jarrett still held his in his right hand. Together they pulled Bastian to his feet.
Tressa only came to Bastian's shoulder and Jarrett just past it. Still, together they were able to support his weight.
"Come on, just a few steps more." Tressa's hands trembled. Bastian had always been the one to support her. His strength was as much a part of him as his flaming red hair. She'd never seen him so defeated. So weak. "You can do this. I know you. You're the tough guy who doesn't let anyone tell him what to do."
She looked up and saw a tiny smile on his face. "I'll be okay."
"I know," Tressa said. "I know you will."
He smiled again and a small trickle of blood escaped from between his lips. "Funny, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would."
"Tressa!" Jarrett yelled. "Run!"
A warm sensation lapped over the arm she had wrapped around Bastian's back.
"No." It came out as a whisper, even though her heart was screaming. She pulled her arm away, letting Jarrett balance Bastian on his own.
Blood drenched her sleeve. Warm and sticky, it dripped to the floor, bead by bead, leaking Bastian's life with it. "No!"
The blue dragon, the one that had been Stacia, whipped its tail again, taking another strip out of Bastian's back. Henry still lay on the floor, convulsing, not yet a dragon, and no longer a young man.
Tressa ran to her sword, grasped it in her palm, and strode toward the dragon. It reared up on its two back feet, the talons leaving scratch marks in the marble floor. With two hands on the