Larimar He rubbed his palms down his face and stood up. He paced in front of her, muttering something to himself, not making any sense again. She sighed and ran a hand through her tangled tresses. The wind was not any kinder to her fine hair than it was to her. In the glow of this tree, she likely looked like a half-plucked purple flamingo.

Larimar surprised her by falling into a crouch right in front of her.

“We have a prophecy too. One about you.” He took her hand into his. “But how can you possibly help us?”

She blinked, suddenly exhausted. Now, humans wanted her help. She wasn’t even done with her first quest. She was queasy from hunger, and the warmth here was making her drowsy. Her eyelids were drooping and thinking was hard. Spinel’s lullaby was not helping.

“One prophecy at a time, Larimar.” She sat up straighter and took her hand back to finish combing her hair. Feeling the tangles coming loose helped clear her thoughts. “Did you find me by accident or did you follow me?”

He shrugged. “Followed you. I have ways.”

“Why?”

“You’ve caused a stir back in the village. One minute you’re a stuck-up prude, the next, you launch at Mafic for no reason. Someone had to keep an eye on you.”

“I am not a prude! It’s just you, humans, are so primitive, you couldn’t tell a civilized conversation if it served you tea in miniature teacups.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Not humans. We’re Embers.”

She looked him up and down. She had never met a pure-blooded human, but he fit the description perfectly: taller than an Empyreal, no wings, tails, horns, only two arms, legs and eyes, and - how fitting - a dirty liar.

“And what’s the difference?”

“Origins.” He did not explain more, but stood up and paced in front of her. “I should bring you in. Explain in front of everyone.”

She reached to Spinel and raised her voice. “Absolutely not! I am not going back to your sick, hungry friends!”

“They’ll behave,” he offered. “You and Spinel will be safe. Promise.”

And how much was a lying human’s promise worth? She looked away toward a faint light on the horizon. The sun was about to rise. It was the perfect time to scout this place.

“Instead of wasting my time and risking anything with your people, I’d rather explore this island for clues.”

He looked around, scratching his head. “What do you want to know? I know this place well.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “Will you show me around?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “If I do, will you let me take you back?”

It wasn’t an equal trade. The wind was calmer now - she could fly on her own, although landing would be problematic. But there was something else he could trade that would be worth the risk - information that would prove his loyalties and dispel her doubts about his people’s involvement.

“I’ll consider it if you tell me what you know about the Dragon Curse.”

He stood still, only his hair gently swaying in the wind, his face unreadable. If he answered her, could she believe his words?

By now, she had finished combing her hair. She had lost the pins that held it together, so she threw it back, where it lay loosely between her wings. Spinel peeked out of her collar, her fuzzy hair tickling her neck.

Would Larimar avoid the question? He had to know something. After all, they lived on an island full of dragon relics. And he was a Mystic. Did he have other abilities that she could use in her quest? He could prove to be a very useful ally if only he played by the rules of fair trade.

Larimar nodded to himself and stepped forward, his eyes locked on hers. “I’ll tell you everything.”