Winning entry for our collaborations with YASciFantasy, written by MeganRBooks

It all began with a hiss, a whisper and a secret.

"Find Jasper Antar," said the dragon, his words—a tut-tutting rhythm that slid into a hiss on the s—loud and clear in my native tongue.

Startled, my finger pulled on the trigger of the tranquilizer gun. I gasped. The dart landed on the shoulder rather than the neck, a spot that would delay the effects by minutes.

Poop on a cracker! Get it together, Roxana.

This particular dragon was scheduled for a routine exam, the first of several steps that would help the Citadel's research team decide between keeping the creature for testing and experimentation or injecting it with a lethal dose. Though I was the youngest medic on staff, I was assigned almost all of the exams because I refused to do any of the lethal injections. I couldn't bring myself to take the life of a captured dragon. Like this, chained and caged, they were totally defenseless. I felt a weird kind of affinity for them. I knew what it was like to feel trapped.

For my case, I was forced into a life I never wanted when my parents died in the Great Battle of Merv, the final skirmish that expanded the Citadel's land and required a long-term strategy of hunting the native dragons to keep people safe from assault. Every child was recruited into service for the Citadel, and I was forced into the medical field when I turned sixteen.

That was a year ago. It never got any easier. Mostly because I hated this place so much. I hated the throaty, pained screeches of dragons and the scratching and the yanking of metal chains. I hated the acidic smell of sterilizing chemicals. I hated that I was part of a crew that brought death to these beautiful, majestic creatures.

I didn't understand why this was happening. Despite rumors of assaults, none happened in my lifetime. And though I was the one shooting them with tranquilizers and poking and prodding at their bodies, I'd never met an aggressive dragon. To me, they were docile. Kind. They turned their heads to me, letting me stroke my fingers over their smooth scales and caress the sensitive feathers at their ears.

And on occasion, they talked to me. They weren't supposed to be capable of doing that.

Jasper Antar. I knew that name. Everyone did. He was known as The Dragon Whisperer. He could tame dragons with a simple touch. Call them with a whistle. Ride them. Control them. The rumors claimed that he used to assist the government with relocation efforts, but he'd gone into hiding when relocation became capture and kill.

"The djinn?" I asked.

The scales around the dragon's gold-green snake eyes rippled in an expression of amusement.

***

The wind blew at my tunic, billowing the fabric and whipping it across my legs. The dragon had toyed with me, giving me clues in the form of ridiculous riddles that required three solid weeks across a desert plateau, a remote mountain range, and a crevice that led to a home etched into the side of a cliff. I'd used up every last day of my personal leave. I had no idea how I was going to get back without getting in trouble.

"Go away," said a man from a rock ledge overhead. "Unless you have cookies or liquor."

I looked up, using my hand to shield the glare of the sun.

"Are you Jasper?"

"Depends. What do you want?"

"I was told to find you."

"By who—whom?" he asked, correcting his grammar with a slurring pause in his words. He brought a silver flask to his lips.

I couldn't believe it. Jasper Antar, feared dragon-whispering djinn, was inebriated.

"A dragon at the Citadel."

He seemed to sober up quickly, his gaze turning sharp as he peered down at me.

Such strange, vivid green eyes. They looked a little like mine. Though mine were more hazel-green, they were unusual enough in our region that people liked to comment on them. Sometimes they said that my eyes made them nervous. I never understood that until now.

"Has this happened to you before?" he asked. "A dragon talking to you?" He tilted his head like it was an absurd suggestion.

"No." The lie slipped freely from my lips. It wasn't something I'd ever admit to a member of the Citadel. But Jasper wasn't a Citadel native. He was something else entirely. "...maybe."

He jumped down to my level and leaned into the front door. Now I could see him up close, I took in the details. He stood nearly to the top of the doorframe, with a wild, unkempt look about his dark hair. Unshaven face that, up close, made it hard to gauge his age. Dark, furrowed brows. Fingerless gloves revealing dirt-crusted nails. His robes might have been emerald and black once, but now they were so tattered that they looked pale and grey over pants that were ripped at the knees.

"What's your name?" he asked, scowling.

"Roxana."

"What did the dragon say, exactly?"

"He said to find you. I asked if you were djinn and he said that you're just a bitter old man. I'm starting to think he might be right."

Jasper snorted. "Khalil. He's the bitter old man. I've known him my entire life."

"You really are djinn." My heart thumped in my chest. This was a man of legend, even if he wasn't quite what I was expecting.

"No," he said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm a wizard."

It was really hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Bewildered, I remained silent as I followed him in through the door. His home—if that's what this was—had a rustic feel to it, with bells strung along the stone walls and a few pieces of furniture.

He emptied his flask in the sink, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and filled it with water. "I'm dragonkin."

I blinked. "I've never heard of that."

"Of course you haven't." He handed me the glass.

I drank it greedily, grateful for the cool water on my parched tongue.

"There aren't many of us left. My ancestors lived alongside the dragons in a peaceful, communal relationship. We were kin. Not by blood, but by some ancient magic that allowed us to understand each other. It's an unbreakable bond of loyalty."

A pinch of jealousy reminded me of how much I hated living and working in the Citadel with no family, no friends, and not a single person that I felt any sense of loyalty to. It must have been nice to feel that sense of belonging.

"Do you think it's right?" he asked.

"What?"

"What your government is doing with the dragons."

"No, I don't think so. I examine the dragons. Try to treat their injuries when I can. But I don't believe in the..."

"Experimentation? Termination?" he said, filling in the words I didn't want to say out loud.

"Right. Yeah. No. It's..." I sucked in a long breath as I thought of those gentle giants in their cages. "I hate it."

"What's the story for Khalil?"

"Termination. He only has a few days left to live."

I could feel the sadness rolling off the slouch of his shoulders and his resigned nod. He was just going to accept it. Wasn't Khalil his friend?

"Wait. You have all these powers to control dragons, but you're just going to give up and let Khalil die? Where's that loyalty you were talking about?"

"You're one to talk. You were there with him. What did you do to help?"

"I didn't know!"

"Know what?"

"That I'm..." It was hard to breathe.

"Say it, Roxana."

"Is it—" I couldn't say it if it wasn't true.

"Say it!"

"I'm dragonkin."

"Yes." He sounded like he'd always known. Like he'd been waiting for this moment for a long time.

I believed it. I believed him. Maybe I'd been waiting for this moment for a long time, too.

"Yes, you are," he said. "Will you help me free him?"

A lightness started in my chest. A sense of hopefulness. Maybe this journey to find Jasper wasn't for all for naught. But the lightness was immediately followed by insecurity and fear. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"I will teach you everything you need to know."

I nodded. A silent understanding passed between us before he darted out to the edge of the cliff, where he put two fingers between his lips and let out a shrill whistle. The wind carried the echo across the plateau.

Within minutes, the sky darkened, the sun shrouded by clusters of dragons rising from the horizon. Hundreds of them, all coming at Jasper's command. All willing to do whatever he asked. Whatever I asked.

I felt the beat of their wings in my heart.

This was where I belonged.