In the quiet room, the holy women dressed her. The long, ornate dress settled over her body. The collar felt like it was choking her and the rough fabric itched her sensitive skin. They holy women fit tight, fabric shoes around her feet and colorful flowers in her gray hair. No jewelry was added. It would only melt from the fires and her whole costume was designed to ignite in one glorious moment. She could barely walk in the clothes, but didn’t complain. Tomorrow at dawn, she would be dead.
As they finished, her family came into the room. brother, sister, nieces, and nephews hugged her one by one. They thanked her in whisper blessings for all that she would do. The youngest cried so hard her body shook.
The girl’s mother, her sister, laid a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulders. “Your Aunt Adara will have songs sung in her honor. She will live with the immortals. We must not be sad, but instead proud of her fate. She will give herself to the dragon and save our village.”
Adara nodded her head in agreement. “I will live forever. I’ll always be with you.” She bid her family goodbye and followed the holy women through the streets.
The sunny day marked the end of winter. The air was warming and returning birds streaked across the sky. Soon, it would be time for planting gardens. She let the sun warm her face as she stepped into the streets. People called to each other in laughing tones. The multi-colored fabrics billowed in the same breeze that carried the scent of cooked meat and spices. She knew this would be the last time she would experience the smells, colors, and noises of village life. Everyone in the village cheered when they saw her. Her deliberate, slow, steady pace gave everyone a chance to see her, to call out, to love her.
“Thank you, my lady!” A call that repeated again and again. They feared the dragon that came every few years demanding a sacrifice. No one knew why. Some said the dragon was searching for a special human. Others said he was just vengeful. Still, a grateful village loved her, even more so because she volunteered.
Adara knew this was the year for her. She felt the aches in her bones all the time, her hair fell out in clumps, and she coughed blood in the mornings. She saw the signs and didn’t hesitate to give herself over.
The holy women stopped at the edge of a cliff. There stood a temple, which she would enter for the last leg of her journey before the dragon came to kill her. She moved past them and into the structure where to priest and his attendants blessed her. They led her to an open room with chairs in a circle. Here she sat and let them pray around her. The chanting asked for a bountiful harvest, plentiful rains, and healthy lives for the villagers. They rocked back and forth with the changing of the chants and Adara swayed with them, her eyes shut in silent prayers of her own.
She remembered the first time she saw a person volunteer. She stood next to her mother and father, her siblings were too young to go and stayed at home with other family. The priest called for a village meeting and asked if anyone would face the dragon. An elder man, his back bent from years of working the fields, raised a shaky hand and slowly moved to the front of the crowd. Adara too moved to the front thinking she could meet the dragon. Her mother wrenched her arm back and scolded her to not move.
“Don’t go up there!” she had said red-faced in a hushed voice. “You are too young to meet the dragon. This is an honor for the elders.”
Young Adara thought of nothing else for the rest of the day. As she aged, she attended every gathering, but it wasn’t until she saw the first grey hairs on her head that she knew her time was approaching. She understood that the people died by the dragon fire, but she also knew that was her fate too.
In the temple, the chanting slowed down. They left her in quiet contemplation for a few hours as final preparations were made. There was a simple dinner of bread, fruit, and spiced water. Adara only drank the water and said nothing as the people talked in hushed voices around her. No one asked her questions, which didn’t surprise her. She knew they did not want to know a dead woman. After supper, the priest led her to the fireplace. She gazed at the red-orange flames moving over the burnt wood. A more up-close view would be soon enough.
The priest mumbled a prayer and pushed her close to the flames. “Do not be afraid. Stare deep and see the secrets the gods wish you to know. When the dragon comes for you, take the secrets to the afterlife. They will guide you.”
Adara did as the priest said, but all she saw was the fire. The red, the orange, the streaks of white moved back and forth, dancing for her. If they spoke, she didn’t hear them. Instead, she focused on how the flames consumed the wood and then radiated the heat. The warmth relaxed her and lulled her into a peace. This death she would give to the village would bring peace. The people believed the dragon would leave them alone for a few more years. She had to give her life to the dragon.
At daybreak, she heard the dragon’s cry. The attendants rushed to guide her to the edge of the cliff at the back of the temple. She stood there alone and waited, holding feelings of peace within her. The dragon approached. Its black and green scales caught the morning light, partially blinding her. She stared in awe, never moving. He came closer, his body so close Adara could see her reflection in his scales. She reached out, unafraid, wanting to caress him. The dragon pulled back abruptly. He eyed her with curiosity. She stayed unmoving, her arm still outstretched like a lover pining for her mate.
The dragon flew up high and swooped down. He let out a menacing cry, but Adara stood still. He landed in front of her again and towered above her, exhaling foul breath. She met his gaze and told him without words to finish the job. Reluctantly, he stepped back and nodded at her. When the dragon opened its mouth and unleashed his fire upon her, she only thought of the warmth and peace she had known in front of the fire. Her body burned. Her skin melted. Her bones turned black with the soot of herself.
But she did not die.
The priest didn’t bother to check if she was alive. He and his people simply wrapped her body in soft cloth, anointed her with sacred oils, and buried her in the field of the dead.
She had no voice to call for help so she reached out with her mind. Her family, thinking she was dead, ignored her calls. They assumed she was only some lost ghost or a trick by the gods. Even the children brushed off her calls. They did not trust a disembodied voice and Adara’s body was so disintegrated, she could not show her form.
Frustrated, she called out to nature. The insects heard her and went to work. The ants found bones of other animals for her. The earthworms made new soil to grow her new flesh. The tree roots and grasses fed her. And the birds dropped their molted feathers for warmth. The earth remade her and just as she was almost healed, the dragon came back. He burned the place where she lay. But instead of a destructive red fire, he blew a green nourishing fire.
She let the fire feed her and when she rose from the earth, she was no longer a lady. She was a phoenix, with bright red, orange, and green feathers. She soared high in the sky, for all the village to see. She called to them and said that she would protect them now. There was no need or any other sacrifices. The dragon had finally been appeased with her. There would now be peace.
Christina Keller lives and works in the Washington, DC area. She is a book lover, TV and movie junkie, and a thrift whisperer. Her work has appeared in 4 Star Stories, Scarlet Leaf Review and other anthologies. She is currently working on a novel. For more info, please visit her blog – christinamkeller.com.