"The only good hero is a dead hero."—Every Villain Ever

"Without heroes, villains would sit around all day in their overpriced lairs, petting hairless cats, while forcing underpaid minions to listen to their boring monologues."—Brittanie Charmintine, Author

The sheer quantity of deadly transportation devices in magical lands is mind-boggling. I knew about the dragons. Broomsticks. Winged unicorns. Teleportation. Flying carpets. Tornado-driven homes (that poor witch!)

Those I could accept.

But flying moths? And not just any moths, but giant death moths. The skulls emblazoned on their thoraxes reminded me of the warnings on our kitchen cupboard's poisonous household cleansers. Don't drink the stuff if you want to continue breathing. So why would I get on board such a dangerous portent of doom?

Good question. Glad you asked.

Okay, that's a lie.

I prefer to tell my story uninterrupted, but I know you're wondering, so what choice do I have?

The answer: I was trying to be a hero.

And no, not the sandwich kind of hero. I am not a sandwich! I am a wicked-witch!

Stop laughing! Remember, I can turn you into toads! Maybe.

Okay, you're right. I was made from evil magic, and that might make hero-ing a non-starter for me. But maybe, just maybe, if I did this one good thing—helped my sister achieve her dream—I might qualify as a hero, or at least, hero adjacent.

The moths swooped down in one syncopated unit, like a burial shroud tossed in the air; their red eyes all seemed to be trained on me, and I gave the whole hero idea a second thought. I gulped. My stomach twisted. Twirled. Lurched. Told me quite clearly that being a hero was plain dumb.

I managed to release myself from Olivia's grasp and backed into the relative safety of the tree trunk.

Olivia jammed her fists onto her hips. "What are you doing?"

"Just needed to check out the moss situation." I ran my fingers over a bald spot on a mossy rock. "We might've upset the delicate ecological balance by ripping out too much. It may not grow back without transplanting. But don't worry. I've done this before, at home between our pavers."

"Get out here," Olivia demanded. "Are you afraid?"

"Of course not! It's just the moss ..." Olivia yanked at my arm, and I had a choice ... leave the relative safety of the tree trunk or lose an arm. "Let go. Fine," I said. Olivia led me toward a clearing, and the moths swooped behind us. "Uh, how do you get on?"

"Don't worry; the moths will do all the work. Just relax."

Easy for her to say. This was my first death moth ride. And it was scarier than the first time I got behind the wheel of our minivan after getting my learner's permit. "So, we're going to your fairy godmother's house? What if she doesn't want me there?" Or what if she turns me into a pumpkin, gourd, zucchini, or any other member of the squash family, I did not add. What? You couldn't assume a fairy godmother would be friendly in a land of dark fairy tales.

"She lives in a mound beneath the earth, and together she and I will prepare you for the magical transfer."

A mound under the earth sounded like a grave. Ick! "But ..." I began to argue when the moths scooped us up, and in seconds we were soaring above the treetops, heading away from the full moon, our hair whipping behind our heads like heroines on romance novel covers.

"I think I left something back there," I screamed over the screeching and the wind.

"What?"

"My stomach."

"You're hilarious, sis. I promise. This is safe. I wouldn't want you hurt. After all these years, I've finally found you!" She wrapped her arm around me and leaned her head on my shoulder while I worked at the relaxing part.

I wasn't very good at it, though.

Breathe!

It's fine. I'm fine. I'm floating on a blanket of moths over thousands of spiky treetops!

Their wings fluttered against my gown, tickling my ankles. I decided that henceforth I would not like moths who were like the ugly stepchildren of butterflies, anyway. They flew higher and higher until the silver-gray of the trees was a blur.

The air this high was frigid, and my teeth chattered; the goosebumps along my arms broke out in their own goosebumps. My eyelashes nearly froze, and my eyes shut. "Ho ... w ... w ... ... l ... l... long?" I stuttered.

"Not long. Beyond the Forbidden Forest. Through the Banshee Bog, Over the Rainbow River, Past the Hamburger Hamlet."

"That d ... d ... doesn't sound n ... n ... ear."

Before Olivia could utter another alliterative location, there was a loud screech, and a gust of hot wind roasted my backside. I smelled burning hair. I felt burning hair. It was my hair! "Arrgghhh!" I patted out the fire, singeing my fingers, trying to look behind me to discover who'd set my hair on fire. My hair was hard enough to manage without dealing with burned ends! But the moths took a hard left, and I fell onto my side.

Olivia calmly looked over her shoulder. "We're being followed! Speed it up, moths!"

I rolled onto my stomach, facing backward to see who (or, more likely, what) was chasing us, just as the moths hit warp speed. The self-preservation instinct had me frantically clawing at the moths, trying to hold on to something.

Have you ever tried clutching a moth wing in your fist? No? Well, FYI, moth wings make terrible reins. If you catch hold of one, it rips, making it more likely that you'll fall through a hole in the blanket. (Apologies to the moth I tried to hold on to! Maybe he could grow another wing?) On the plus side, abject terror meant I no longer felt cold.

Olivia was my only other option to keep from flying off. Practically blinded by wind, I grabbed whatever part of her was closest. It turned out it was her neck.

"You're choking me," she grunted. I let go. I didn't want to choke her.

Really.

I didn't!

She clutched my arm, keeping me at a safe(r) distance. "Settle down. Your flopping around is throwing the moths off course."

My arm throbbed. "You're hurting me!"

Olivia loosened her grip. A little. "That's nothing!" she yelled.

Deep breath. Deep breath.

Time for me to get a grip.

Well, not a grip because that didn't work out, but time to stop flopping around like a fish at the end of a line.

Finally, I got all four extremities to hold still at once and glimpsed our pursuer. Something large. With bad breath. And by 'bad,' I mean a twenty-foot-long torrent of blue flame aimed at us. That was most definitely bad!

The moths dropped, and I screamed as another blast streamed over our heads. "Whaaaaa ...?"

"Dragon!" Olivia spat. "Those stupid gossiping trees told them! But how did this one find us so quickly?"

The dragon gained on us, his iridescent purple scales shining in the moonlight. "It's Doryu!" I said. "He's one of my teachers. He won't hurt us."

Olivia cast me a pitying look. "I'm sorry, sis, but he works for Petronella. That makes him our enemy because she's probably behind the kidnappings and won't want me to be the queen."

"And she was a horrible mother," I added.

"And that," Olivia murmured.

"But can't I just reason with Doryu?"

"Doryu will hand us over to the queen. So, if you want to escape Brittlebane alive with your dads, you must do as I tell you."

"Okay, what do I do?"

"Zap him out of the sky."

"But ..."

"It won't hurt him. His hide is as tough as diamonds."

"Then how will that stop him?"

"Dragon wings are sensitive to lightning. He'll be able to glide to the ground, but he'll have to wait about ten minutes before flying again. It'll give us enough time to lose him."

"But I've never conjured lightning," I said.

"You can do it, Ro! Just concentrate."

Doryu was gaining on us, and a blistering hot lick of flame disgorged from his furnace-sized maw. This time, a dead-on shot took out about a dozen moths. Their wings were aflame as they swirled downward like spinning fireworks before the ash was lost to the wind. Other moths moved in quickly to close the hole. Not that I was a huge moth fan, but they didn't deserve to be killed, and I had it in my power to stop the carnage without hurting Doryu, at least not permanently.

I focused on the magic. The fizzing in my blood was always there, buzzing in the background. But when I called to it, it gathered into my core like a swarm of hot bees. I tried to imagine conjuring lightning like a proper evil queen, but it was hard to concentrate while going a gagillion miles an hour and simultaneously being blasted with ten-thousand-degree, carrion-scented dragon breath.

Breathe!

Focus!

I breathed. My fingertips glowed. Blue sparks erupted for a second, then fizzled out. My head was throbbing, and my breath was coming in short gasps. I wasn't strong enough. "I can't," I cried. Wait! Where was Vermeil? I worked one hand down into my pocket and located a warm ball of fur. Pain lanced through my palm. "Ouch! You bit me!" I pulled my hand away and pressed my other hand against it to staunch the bleeding.

"Sorry, I was having a nap," the rat said, his voice muted through the fabric. "I was dreaming about cats and killing cats, and I thought your hand was a cat."

"My hand is not a cat!" I yelled.

"Well, now I know that."

Dragon fire singed more moths. The blanket lurched, and we dropped hundreds of feet until we finally leveled out over a clearing of golden grasses surrounded by trees. I let out a blood-curdling scream. Olivia covered her ears.

"Rowen, stop screaming! Lightning now! Or we'll die," Olivia said.

"Screaming is a natural reaction to panic!"

"Scream after you conjure the lightning!" Olivia snapped. "Vermeil? He peeked over the edge of my pocket. "Are you ready to do your duty as a Familiar and help your witch ?"

"Which witch?" he said. Olivia glared at him. "I mean, yes."

"Then now would be a good time," Olivia said, turning her glare on me.

I am lightning.

I am lightning.

I am lightning.

Well, not literally lightning, but I was doing my best here.

Legs quivering, I stood upon the blanket of moths to better see where I was aiming. I held out my arms for balance. Doryu spat fire at me. Wow! So much for him not hurting us. I ducked just in time as the heat sizzled overhead. I gritted my teeth, focused, and felt the familiar calming from my Familiar. Seconds later, the magic exploded out of me, surged into the sky, and erupted into jagged strikes of lightning followed by thunder. Doryu let out a screech, and then there was another sound, a scream, that curdled my insides. As the dragon tumbled out of the air, a one-armed, sword-wielding minion, his black curls twisting like smoke in the wind, followed in his wake.

"It's Blade!" I yelled. "We have to save him!"

"I'm sorry, Ro. But we need to escape while we have the chance."

"No!" I said, tears prickling and then freezing in the corners of my eyes. "Turn the moths around. With warp speed, we can catch Blade before he lands."

"Warp what?" Olivia said. "Never mind, we don't have time for this. Blade might survive. The grass below us looks pretty thick and cushy," Olivia said, and she gave no instructions to the moths to slow or turn. So, I did what any hero would and threw myself over the edge.

Then immediately regretted it.

"Whaaaaaaaa?" Vermeil squeaked.

Oh, no! I'd totally forgotten that Vermeil hadn't enlisted in the whole hero idea!

"Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrr," I replied, squeezing my eyes closed. I wanted to beg his forgiveness, but words refused to form. The air whistled past my ears.

Why did witches need brooms to fly? Logically, we should be able to fly as well as an enchanted stick. Right?

"Vermeil, I need a flying spell!"

"I don't know that spell."

"I do! Just send me a surge of your magic when I say the spell. Non possum volare sin scopa!" At first, nothing happened. We continued to drop, but then we slowed. I caught an air current and followed it, swirling up, up, up like a hawk stalking its prey. And speaking of prey, Blade was directly beneath me. I spread my arms, more for show than anything else, and dove for him.

We were going to make it! I was saving someone! I was hero-ing! "Blade, I'm coming!" I said. He looked up at me, and our eyes met. My stomach fluttered, and I held his gaze.

Closer, closer. Almost there! Finally, I swept under him, my heart practically exploding with relief. Until ... I flew straight into a tree.  

Oops! Always watch where you're going when you're flying, dear readers. It's just common sense! What will happen now? Will Blade be okay? Do you think Rowen gets any points for heroism? Is Rowen a sandwich?

Once again, I thank you most profusely for reading my story, voting on the chapter, and leaving those incredible comments, which have made the story so much better! Love you guys!