E R I K

The snow had started to melt, making the ground treacherous to walk on. We would have to cross the road and the field to get the Craving Stone, and I worried about my poor little mate's injury.

Morgan was proud. I doubted she would allow me to carry her across the snow to the Craving Stone. I dare not risk upsetting her. She could change her mind and refuse to go through the ceremony. This made my heart uneasy.

Instead, I offered her my arm. Morgan reluctantly took it, which I was secretly grateful for as my little mate liked to argue.

I wondered what the spirits of my ancestors thought about me taking a fox as a bride. I imagined the ghosts of my father and brothers watching over me, yelling to one another, 'he's gone mad'. But it was not my choice. The wisps had made the choice for me, and who was I to question the powers that be?

I walked slowly next to Morgan., ensuring my pace matched hers. She held tightly onto my arm, which made my heart swell with pride. She trusted me to care for her. I savoured the closeness of her petite body against mine. It elicited a primal protectiveness that I didn't know I was capable of.

Morgan tilted her head up to meet my eyes. The breath stilled in my lungs. Her red hair was so beautiful, blazing against the white snow. It terrified me that she would have died if I hadn't saved her. Even now, the recollection of her lying on the ground, unconscious and bleeding, bothered me.

"Ouch, Erik. What's with the death grip on my arm?" Morgan asked.

I glanced down at my hand and saw my knuckles turning white. I immediately loosened my hold and muttered an apology.

Morgan rolled her eyes at me and groaned, "I can't believe I let you sweet talk me into doing this."

"It was the right decision," I said reassuringly, "This will protect you from my brothers and sisters at war."

She snorted and replied, "Are they like your devil-worshipping buddies?"

"You know exactly who they are," I said, trying to keep the irritation from seeping into my voice.

I found it perplexing why she kept referring to me as a devil worshipper. She knew who I was. She was the one who sent me to this place. So why did she pretend that she did not know me? Was this the way of the Fox?

This contrary nature of hers was a problem that I needed to sort out once we were married. First, she must give up her trickster ways and learn to be more Dragon than Fox. Then, my wife would be honest and know to trust her husband.

Ahead of us loomed the Craving Stone.

Sir Glenn was waiting for us at the foot of the stone. I had instructed him

on how to perform the binding ritual. It was a simple ceremony where I would unite my dragon flame with her fox flame, creating one brilliant ball of light.

When Sir Glenn saw us, he stooped into a comically low bow. I gritted my teeth, silently urging the fool to get up. Morgan suppressed a giggle, and I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I found it depressing that only the village idiot accepted me as King.

When we finally reached Sir Glenn, he tearfully declared, "My King, it is my deepest honour to unite your flame with the flame of your chosen bride."

I resisted the urge to reply, 'You were the only choice I had'. So, instead, I gave Sir Glenn a forced smile and replied, "Thank you for your kind words, Sir Glenn."

Tears welled in the older man's eyes, and he pulled a rather disgustingly green-stained hanky out of his pocket and blew his nose.

"Please forgive me, Your Majesty. Weddings turn me into a puddle of mush," he explained.

I tried to hide the look of disgust on my face.

Sir Glenn tucked the hanky back into his pocket and asked, "Well, friends. Are you ready to unite your flames?"

I nodded my head impatiently while Morgan gave Sir Glenn a quizzical look. My muscles tensed. Was she having doubts? Was she about to change her mind? But to my relief, she shrugged her shoulders and replied flatly, "Sure, why not."

The lack of enthusiasm in her voice wounded me. How could she sound so bored while I was standing here, heart pounding in chest, unable to drag my eyes off her?

Glenn clapped his hands and said, "Then turn to one another and let your flames unite."

We turn to face each other. I stare down at Morgan, and my heart feels like it's about to burst. I presented her with my clenched fist and slowly opened my fingers to reveal a soft glowing flame inside my palm.

I wait for her to present me with her flame, but instead, she does nothing but observes the small glowing flame in the centre of my palm.

Sir Glenn coughs loudly and captures her attention. "Morgan, you must present the King with your flame. We can't continue the ceremony without your flame."

Morgan's eyes widened, and she replied, "I can't manifest a flame."

The flame in my hand suddenly flickered and died.

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "Where is your fox flame?"

"I don't have a flame. I've never been able to conjure a flame or grow wings," Morgan explained.

"You don't have wings. But you do have a flame," I snapped.

"No. I. Don't," Morgan replied.

Had she gone mad? What was wrong with her?

"Are you sick? What happened to your flames?" I asked.

"I don't have a flame, idiot. I'm human," Morgan said.

"I am tired of these games, Little Fox. Please, present me with your flame, so we can unite our flames together and complete the ceremony," I said.

"I'm sorry, I don't have a flame."

Sir Glenn's bushy eyebrows furrowed. Then, finally, he looked at me and said, "Without a flame, we cannot continue."

I shook my head, unable to contain the panic filling my chest. I take her hand and plead, "You must try, Morgan. I must save you from the others."

With an exasperated sigh, she replied, "I told you I'm not a fox or a dragon; I'm just human. I don't have a flame."

"That's not true. You have the most magnificent, wondrous flame. Your flame is legendary. It burns bright blue with spirit. Back home, your flame is feared more than my dragon fire, as it can scorch one's soul," I say.

"I'm not the Fox. I am a nobody! I was dumped in a field four years ago," she cried.

"These are lies," I growled.

Sir Glenn raised his hand and said, "She's telling the truth. We found her in the field near the mill. Her head was all bashed up, and she had lost her memories."

"Is this true?" I ask Morgan.

Morgan responds by slowly turning and lifting up her glorious mane of red hair. My heart freezes when I see an angry, vicious white scar that runs from the base of her neck and then crisscrosses over her scalp.

The memory of her head hitting the frozen ground repeatedly plays in my head. The sound of the sickening crack as her skull hits the frozen ground and the blood pooling around the back of her head.

Good God. Morgan had forgotten everything! She had forgotten me, the war, and the thousands she had killed. It was as if she was a completely different Fox.

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully.

A Fox with no memory. What an opportunity! She did not remember her allegiance to the Mad Prince and his bride. She was a blank slate that the dragons could mould to their advantage.

"Well," I sighed. "That does explain a few things. First, we will need to awaken your flame to complete the ceremony, and then we will need to bring you back to full power."

Morgan threw up her hands and backed away. "I'm done. I'm not a dragon. I'm not a Fox. I'm just a barmaid."

"I understand that you are frightened, but I will awaken your flame, and together we will return home and lay waste to the vampire scrouge that blights my land," I say and take a step towards her.

"Look, this was a dumb idea. I need to get back to the pub and finish my shift. If your crazy friends turn up, I'll send an SOS to all the farmers. They are all packing guns out here," she said, continuing back away from me.

"We must continue. We must coax your flame out so our flames can unite," I explained.

"Erik, this is not gonna work," Morgan replied.

"Guns will not protect you, Morgan. My brothers and sisters in war are too powerful. Only the unification of our flames will save you," I yell after her.

"Yeah, sure," Morgan mutters dismissively.

I followed Morgan as she limped back to the pub. I intended to change her mind and persuade her to accept my help. But fate had other plans.

From across the road, a voice boomed. "MURDERER!"

It was a voice that I feared more than anything else in this world at this moment.

I turned and saw Ranni standing across the road, staring at Morgan with dark, vengeful rage.

"Who the hell is that?" Morgan asked.

"Someone who wants you dead," I replied.