Stories are a funny thing, aren't they?

You base your whole world view on them as children. Or, at least, I did.

Don't try to convince me you haven't, we've all tried hunting for fairies in the forest, or pretended to slay a dragon with a wooden sword, or even just lost ourselves in a book so completely we believed we were in that world, if only for a moment. As you grow up, people dampen these beliefs, telling you they're nothing more than fairytales, or old wives' tales to scare the insolent child into bed. They tell you to 'Grow up', and see the world in the same mundaneness as they saw.

But for me, there's always been that lingering feeling that something was beyond that veil we call the 'real world'. What if we just used a bit more of our imagination, what if we saw like children once more?

That was the same line of thinking that had me lost in the woods.

Okay, some may be surprised that the smart, mature, totally normal sixteen-year-old girl named Erythia might get lost in the forest chasing after a shadow, but those people are what I like to call boring.

I've always had a little too much imagination for my own good. While helping out with the children, or reading from the library, or really anywhere where there's adults to watch me, I try to be as mature as possible. Y'know, putting the clothes on the clothes rack, heating up water for the feral beasts known as small children, and helping fold the never-ending supply of laundry.

But as soon as I'm left to my own devices, I instantly drift off to daydream about those stories of dragons, unicorns, and impossibilities. More than once have I found myself sleepwalking, holding up a ladle and pot-lid like a sword and shield, and waking myself up with my own voice shouting, "Begone, foul beast!"

I was a very weird child.

It was one of those very same sleepwalking nights that I dreamed about a fire in the woods bordering our small village. And no, not just any old fire, one that could be started by an exceptionally dry forest, but a magical one.

How could I tell it was magical? What normal summer fire was bright blue? Or that was caused by a shooting star? On a full-moon?

Fine, maybe I'm a little superstitious, but that didn't stop someone as fearless (and most likely delirious) as me!

I silently slipped on my boots and a coat--more than a little surprised at how vivid this dream was--and set off into the woods in search of this elusive blue-flame. Thanks to the light cast by the moon, I only tripped on a few dozen roots, branches, and other obstacles. Not like that was going to stop me, either!

The exceptionally cold summer night didn't help matters either, but I was within a couple tree-lengths of the blue blaze by the time my teeth started chattering enough to concern me.

I had to squint against the glare from the flame, but I pressed on until my feet were at the edge of a crater about ten feet long, with flames licking the toe of my boots. I was a little more convinced that this was a dream when I felt no heat, but that didn't solve my chattering teeth, and left me severely disappointed that all I had been rewarded from my imagination was losing myself in the forest.

At least, until I knocked into the crater by a massive gust of wind.

I hit the ground with my shoulder, tearing through the coat and shredding my arm. I didn't feel the pain, however, because my attention was solely focused on the massive head that peered at me through the shadows cast by the moon.

When I say massive, I mean massive. Like, nostrils-as-tall-as-me massive. Its eyes were a sparkling light-blue, and its scales shifting from various shades of blue, purple, and black. I stared, dumbfounded, at this otherworldly-sized being when I saw a small shape slip off the side of its shoulder, landing nimbly on the ground without a single leaf crackling underneath them.

I only thought of pinching myself now, but the long, throbbing wound on my shoulder attested to the fact that I wasn't dreaming, at least, not in the real sense.

As the shape approached, I realized it wasn't another mystical being, but a rather normal-looking boy around my age, wearing a cloak that looked like it had been ripped off the night sky, adorned with small stars and wisps of moving clouds.

Only then did my body finally realized the extent of the wound on my shoulder, and went into lockdown.

Could also been known as: I passed out due to the sheer lunacy of what I just experienced.