Amy's Perspective:
The thick colonial wool of my heavy gown scratched loudly against the rough briar bushes, but I kept my small fingers moving carefully through the thorns.
I am out picking berries for my father, the governor of the settlement, Samuel Jackson. My small wooden basket was barely half full of wild, dark blackberries, their sweet purple juices staining my small five-year-old hands as I tracked the narrow dirt paths cutting deep into the heavy woodland woods. The air outside the Roanoke encampment felt thick, damp, and heavy with the scent of pine and salt spray, far away from the sturdy timber walls our people had spent weeks building into the soil.
Whenever the quietness of the massive American wilderness grew too loud, a heavy ache would settle straight into my chest. My mother, Marriea Jackson, died on our long voyage from England, her strength failing during the long, brutal storms across the black Atlantic waters before our wooden ships ever anchored against this new world's shoreline. My father spent every single daylight hour managing the colony's small food stores and speaking with the local tribes, leaving me to wander the edge of the woods all alone.
"Just a few more for father's tea," I whispered softly to myself, my small voice sounding tiny and fragile beneath the massive, towering branches of the ancient oak trees.
I skidded my small leather shoes across a patch of damp moss, stepping over a decaying log, when I spotted a black lizard the size of a large dog being attacked by a black bear.
A sudden, violent explosion of snapping branches and raw, primal roaring shattered the quiet forest ahead of me.
I froze dead in my tracks, my small fingers clenching the handle of my wooden basket as my eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing terror. A massive, five-hundred-pound adult black bear stood upright in a small clearing, its coarse dark fur matted with mud as it furiously thrashed its massive claws downward into the dirt. Its jaws were wide open, dripping hot saliva as it let out a terrifying, guttural roar that vibrated straight through my boots.
But it wasn't fighting a standard creature of the woods.
Trapped right beneath the bear's heavy claws was a strange, glistening black lizard the size of a large dog. Its sleek, armored scales reflected the dim sunlight cutting through the tree leaves like polished stone. The creature possessed a long, whipping tail and small, quick legs that allowed it to dart across the mossy ground, but it was pinned down by the bear's massive weight. A fresh, smoking trail of glowing purple liquid bled from a deep claw wound along the lizard's side, sizzling against the green pine needles as the creature bared its small, razor-sharp teeth, hissing with a strange sound that crackled like thunder.
The black bear lunged forward again, bringing its massive paw down in a crushing strike designed to completely kill the strange black reptile.
The massive black bear slammed its heavy paw down again, tearing a deep groove into the damp soil as the strange reptile barely swerved out of the way. The creature was losing its footing rapidly under the weight of the assault, its dark scales slick with that glowing purple fluid.
As it scrambled backward toward the roots of a giant oak, the lizard looked toward me with a look that screamed help me.
There were no strange screens floating above its sleek head, but the raw, pleading intelligence inside its glowing golden eyes cut straight through my heart. It wasn't the blank, empty stare of a common wild beast. It was a conscious, terrified soul begging for help.
And I couldn't resist.
I dropped my basket, letting the wild black berries spill completely out into the dirt, their sweet purple juices pooling across the green pine needles as the wooden container rolled away into the briars.
Diving low to the ground, my small fingers scraped hard against the damp moss as I grabbed a rock from the ground. It was a heavy, jagged piece of gray granite, completely unpolished and packed with rough edges.
Summoning every single ounce of physical strength inside my five-year-old arms, I leaned my weight back and threw it at the bear, hitting it right in the snout.
The granite rock cut a clean, whistling arc through the humid forest air, completely catching the beast by surprise. CRACK! The throw hit with absolute accuracy, striking it right on its black nose.
The heavy impact against the bear's sensitive nose triggered immediate pain. The five-hundred-pound monster violently recoiled, letting out a sharp, high-pitched yelp of raw hurt as it snapped its massive head backward. A trickle of dark blood leaked from its nose, and its wild, raging eyes instantly swiveled away from the black reptile, locking dead center onto my small, trembling frame standing completely exposed in the middle of the path.
The five-hundred-pound monster let out a deafening, wet roar of pure fury as the blood leaked from its broken snout.
The bear charged at me, its massive, clawed paws tearing chunked pieces out of the damp mossy soil as it closed the ten-foot distance with terrifying speed. The sheer weight of the incoming danger completely paralyzed my legs. My breath caught hard inside my chest, as a warm wet sensation spread down my legs. The raw, unmitigated terror of the attack completely overrode my body, my knees trembling violently beneath the thick wool of my gown as I stared straight into the beast's wide, dripping jaws.
But right before the bear reached me, it was tackled by the lizard.
A sudden, blinding streak of sleek dark scales violently launched out from the roots of the giant oak tree, cutting a sharp line through the humid air. The dog-sized reptile hit the roaring predator's side with absolute speed, the sheer force of the impact knocking the massive bear completely away from me.
The lizard clamped down on the bear's neck, its rows of razor-sharp teeth locking with immense, crushing force straight into the thick dark fur and throat of the beast. The bear let out a suffocating, high-pitched choke as the glowing purple fluid from the reptile's wound smeared across its matted coat.
As they tumbled to the forest floor, the two clashing forces rolled violently into a chaotic, thrashing knot of fur and scales. They crashed hard against the wet dirt, smashing straight through the briar bushes and sending a massive spray of dead oak leaves and broken twigs flying high into the air. The ground beneath my shaking, wet shoes rumbled with the raw impact of their struggle as they bit, clawed, and thrashed across the soil right in front of my eyes.
The desperate, snarling wrestle on the dirt didn't last more than a few heartbeats. As the massive five-hundred-pound predator thrashed its claws to rip into the reptile's black hide, a sudden, blinding orange light began to pulse violently beneath the lizard's sleek throat scales. The air around the briar bushes instantly grew burning hot, warping with a thick, suffocating heat wave.
The lizard ignited a fire breath, bathing the bear in flame turning it into a pile of ash.
A roaring, un-throttled torrent of white-hot fire violently erupted from the creature's bared jaws. The supercharged blaze completely engulfed the massive bear in a fraction of a second, the blinding brightness of the magic illuminating the dark oak branches like a miniature fallen sun. The bear didn't even have time to scream. The absolute force and heat of the fire vaporized its matted fur, muscle, and heavy bones in a single, devastating moment—turning it into a pile of ash right before my wide, staring eyes.
The roaring hiss of the flames died out instantly, leaving nothing but a thick, smoking circle of black soot on the ground and a light gray powder scattering into the coastal wind.
The lizard faced me and started walking over.
Its sleek black claws clicked softly against the unburned pine needles as it closed the short distance between us, its long tail swaying slowly over the soil. The deep purple liquid from its side wound was already beginning to dry and seal under its own heat.
As I began to tremble, wondering what kind of creature stood before me, my knees felt completely hollow inside my soiled gown. My racing thoughts were completely broken. The simple, structured lessons my father had taught me inside the timber walls of the Roanoke settlement could not explain what I was looking at. Bears were supposed to be the kings of the woods, yet this dog-sized lizard had just reduced one to gray dust with a single breath. My five-year-old mind could not understand this terrifying magic.
Then, the lizard spoke in a deep, booming voice that was unmistakable masculine and fierce.
The sound didn't come from a mental link; it was a physical, vibrating sound that shook the very bark of the oak trees around us, carrying a raw, ancient power that completely filled the woods.
"Thank you, little girl," the dragon rumbled, his golden eyes locking onto me with a strange, solemn respect as he tilted his head. "May I ask your name?"
The deep, masculine vibration of his voice seemed to hang in the humid air, physically rattling the wooden handle of my dropped basket. My jaw fell completely slack, my small hands squeezing the fabric of my wet colonial gown as my chest heaved with a fresh wave of absolute, unmitigated shock.
"Thou... thou canst speak?!" I stammered out.
My five-year-old vocal cords could barely force the words past my lips, the old phrasing coming out in a high-pitched, trembling squeak. I took a small, frantic step backward, my leather shoe skidding over a stray pine needle as I stared down into his glowing golden eyes.
In the settlement of Roanoke, dogs barked, horses neighed, and cows mooed. Beasts were meant to be silent creatures for labor or food. But this creature—this black lizard who had just turned a five-hundred-pound monster into a circle of gray ash—was speaking the exact same English tongue my father used when reading the church books. It completely broke everything I knew about the world.
The sleek black dragon didn't snap his jaws or let out a fierce hiss at my outburst. Instead, his long nose gave a slow, deliberate twitch as he watched my trembling frame, the smoke from his healed wound slowly drifting up into the oak leaves.
"I can," the beast rumbled back, his deep, booming voice dropping into a slightly softer, amused sound that still made the moss beneath my feet vibrate. "Though in my homeland, it is the two-legged folk who are usually quiet when a primordial line speaks. Do not fear me, little one. The rock you threw at the flat-nosed beast has balanced our ledger. I do not consume those who defend my blood."
He lowered his dog-sized body closer to the dirt, his front claws anchoring into the pine needles as he waited for me to answer.
I blinked my small eyes, my five-year-old mind still desperately trying to understand what I was hearing. I didn't take another step backward, but my small leather shoes remained frozen against the damp mossy ground as I stared down at his sleek black scales.
The dragon tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes glowing with an ancient, calculating intelligence that completely filled the quiet space of the oak clearing.
"And I think you are the one I am looking for. Can you take me to your town, little girl?" he asked, his voice dropping into a fierce yet steady sound.
A sudden wave of panic rushed through my small mind, my father's strict security rules instantly flaring inside my thoughts. Governor Samuel Jackson had explicitly told me the baseline safety rules before he let me leave the heavy timber gates of the Roanoke settlement. Never speak to strangers in the woods. Never lead a wild creature back to the walls. Never put the town in danger.
But looking at the sleek, armored beast who had just deployed a white-hot torrent of fire to save my life, the old rules didn't seem to make sense. He wasn't a hostile raider or a wild monster; he was an intelligent savior who had openly stated that we were even.
"M-My town?" I squeaked out softly, my fingers clenching the fabric of my colonial gown as I looked back toward the narrow dirt path cutting through the thick briar bushes. "It... it is just past the big river bend. Father says we must keep the gates locked because of the wild things... but... but thou art not like the other things."
In the end, I gave him my name, forcing the trembling syllables out into the quiet clearing.
"My... my name is Amy," I whispered softly, clutching the wool of my soiled gown. "Amy Jackson."
The beast gave a slow, deep nod of his head, his glowing golden eyes reflecting the last wisps of smoke rising from the ash pile. He said his name was Albion, the cosmic dragon. The sheer weight of that title sounded massive and ancient, echoing through the oak trees like the name of an old king.
I agreed to take him to my village, stepping onto the narrow dirt path to guide the dog-sized reptile back toward the Roanoke encampment.
When we breached the tree line and approached the heavy timber gates, the entire settlement fell into absolute chaos. The colonial guards screamed, dropping their heavy axes and raising their primitive weapons in pure panic. My father was barking mad when I brought the dragon into the village. As the governor of Roanoke, Samuel Jackson completely lost his temper; his face turned a furious, bright red as he violently hollered for the guards to surround the black beast and pull me away from danger.
But Albion didn't launch an attack of flames. Instead, he stood perfectly still dead center in the village square and spoke directly to my father, his deep, booming masculine voice instantly freezing every single colonist dead in their tracks.
We told him the story of the five-hundred-pound black bear, the granite rock, and the white-hot fire that had saved my life. Hearing how he had saved me, and realizing this creature possessed a deep human intelligence that could speak perfect English, my father’s anger slowly converted into absolute, stunned gratitude. He eventually let him stay, allocating a safe area inside the walls for Albion to rest.
Three weeks passed peacefully.
The village routine returned to normal. I spent every single afternoon sitting in the grass beside Albion's sleek black scales, showing him my wooden berry basket while he watched the sky with his ancient golden eyes, acting as an unmoving, fortress-class guard for our settlement. The wild men in the deep woods stayed away, and our daily chores were done in peace.
Until one night, the peaceful days ended with absolute, terrifying speed.
We were woken up in the middle of the night by my father.
The dark interior of our timber cabin was suddenly flooded with the flickering, chaotic glare of orange torchlight cutting through the window frames. The quiet night air outside was completely shattered by a deafening roar of screaming colonists, clashing metal, and the terrifying, deep thud of war drums echoing from the forest edge.
My father rushed into my small sleeping corner, his clothes messed up and his face completely pale as his hands trembled violently on my shoulders. He looked panicked and was shouting that I need to hide.
"Amy! Wake up, child! Hide beneath the floorboards instantly!" Samuel Jackson roared, his voice cracking with pure terror as a massive explosion rumbled through the village square outside. "The defenses are down! The walls have been completely breached! You must hide now!"
The deafening crash of another explosion tore through the village square, rattling the timber walls of our cabin until dust fell like snow from the roof. My father didn't wait for my legs to move. He forcefully yanked up the heavy oak hatch in the corner of the room, exposing the narrow, pitch-black crawlspace beneath the floor.
"In! Now!" he hissed, his terrified eyes darting toward the front door as the sound of splintering wood and terrible, cackling laughter echoed from the neighbor's fence line.
I scrambled down into the freezing dirt, curling my small body into a tight ball as he slammed the heavy wooden boards back down over my head, plunging me into total darkness.
I hid in the floorboards, waiting for my father to leave.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my chest heaving in absolute silence as his heavy leather boots stomped across the wood above me, charging out into the chaotic midnight air to join the village's dying defense line. The sounds from the settlement were a complete nightmare of raw violence: musket fire cracked wildly, steel swords clashed against crude iron axes, and the agonizing screams of our neighbors filled the dark night.
The terrifying sound of our front door being smashed off its hinges echoed right above my head, followed by the rapid, frantic patter of small, leathery feet. Little green men were rifling through our chests, hooting in malicious glee as they shattered our pottery. I held my breath, paralyzed in pure terror until the leathery footsteps finally exited the cabin to torch the next building.
The minutes felt like hours. The thick smoke from the burning village began to seep through the floorboard cracks, stinging my small five-year-old nose.
Knowing the immediate danger inside the room had cleared, I couldn't just stay trapped in the dark while my father was out in the slaughter. Crawling silently through the soot, I pushed the heavy oak hatch upward, before coming out and looking for Albion.
The interior of our cabin was completely ruined, the windows broken and the furniture shattered into kindling. Slipping past the burning door, I avoided the central village lanes where the fires raged hottest, cutting a frantic path around the back of our plot, finally finding him behind the house sleeping.
The dog-sized dragon was curled tightly against the cold timber foundation, his sleek black scales reflecting the violent orange glare of the burning settlement. Even with an entire army of small green monsters destroying the camp, he seemed entirely unbothered by the chaos around him.
I ran up and shook him, shouting, my small five-year-old hands frantically hammering against his hard, armored shoulders as tears spilled fresh paths through the soot on my freckled cheeks.
"Albion! Albion, awake!" I screamed over the roaring din of the war drums, my voice cracking with pure fear. "Please help! My people are under attack!"
The frantic beating of my hands finally woke him up. The sleek black reptile stirred, his long neck uncoiling with fluid, beautiful grace as Albion opened his sky blue eyes. His ancient, deep gaze locked dead center onto me, taking in the full horror of the burning Roanoke colony.
"I will help, my child," the dragon rumbled, his deep, booming masculine voice cutting straight through my panic with an ironclad wave of absolute safety.
He didn't launch an offensive fire breath at the oncoming raiders. Instead, he stood upright on his hind legs, his chest expanding as a massive, world-shaping wave of magical energy built deep inside his body.
Then, he roared, "Croatoan!"
The ancient command word shattered the air, vibrating so powerfully that the screaming of the green monsters and the crackle of the fires were instantly swallowed by a roaring magical hum.
And everything vanished in a sea of white.
The burning timber cabins, the charging little green men, the dark forest canopy, and my father’s screaming defense line were completely wiped away in a single second. The physical world dissolved into an absolute, blinding void of pure radiant energy, pulling my five-year-old body and the dragon entirely out of the 1587 timeline as we were thrown forward into the unknown.
The next thing I knew, I was outside a vast forest-covered mountain range.
The world had completely changed. Instead of the flat, swampy coast of Virginia, the land expanded into a monumental, untamed wilderness of massive, alien trees and jagged stone ridges that stretched out toward a strange, unfamiliar horizon. I stumbled across the damp, mossy ground, my leather shoes slipping on the cold dew as a terrifying wave of complete loneliness took hold of me.
I shouted, "Father! Albion! Where art thou?!"
My small voice cracked against the massive stone columns of the mountains, echoing into the empty air. My small fingers tightly gripped the scratched wool of my gown as I spun around in a frantic circle, my eyes scanning the thick briar bushes for a flash of my father's coat or Albion's sleek black scales.
But no one answered.
The terrifying silence of the valley hung in the air for only a heartbeat, or so I thought.
A sudden, malicious rustling erupted from the shadows of the lower brush, and a bunch of rough-looking green midgets came spilling out onto the path ahead of me. They stood barely three and a half feet tall, possessing coarse, oil-stained green skin, long hooked noses, and jagged yellow eyes that looked like vagabons wielding swords, bows, and staffs. They looked like a gang of wild bandits.
They started shouting at me in a weird runic language, their high-pitched, screeching voices making absolutely no sense as they aggressively waved their rusted metal weapons at me.
I shrank back against a wet stone wall, my body freezing solid in pure, five-year-old terror as the green monsters forcefully closed the distance to trap me. I didn't even have time to turn and run into the trees.
Before I felt a sharp pain on the side of my head and blacked out.
A brutal, heavy strike collided straight with my temple, shattering my senses. The vast mountain range and the screaming green vagabonds violently spun into a dark, empty void, locking my five-year-old body inside the exact same dark prison cell where Princess Kirra would find me later.