Vasylia sits on the edge of the town’s water fountain, leafing through the pages of a book. Perhaps she should be focusing more on the contents of the book, as her French lessons depend almost entirely on study sessions such as this one. Still, her younger sister Mirya is rambling on about a new rumor she heard in the marketplace.

“They say the dragon has a thousand scales that shimmer like the most expensive rings,” Mirya explains, her big blue eyes shining at the very thought of the dragon’s scales.

Vasylia slams her book shut, glaring at Mirya. “I am certain it is only a hoax,” Vasylia assures her sister. “Rumors like this only have the power you give it, and I don’t suggest you give it another thought.”

“All I am suggesting is that it’s a rather interesting claim,” Mirya argues, sliding off of the fountain’s edge. “Besides, isn’t there some crumb of truth to be found in rumors?”

Vasylia shrugs, refusing to entertain her sister’s untamed imagination any longer. She reopens her book and begins reviewing French vocabulary, but the thought of a dragon still tugs at her mind.

That night, Vasylia is sitting on the floor of her bedroom desperately trying to resume her studies when a swift movement flashes just outside of her window. Vasylia nearly trips over the hem of her dress in her haste to approach the window, leaving her books and journals scattered across the floor. Massive black eyes peer in at her through the window, like glass orbs surrounded by indigo-colored scales that glimmer in the moonlight. Vasylia’s heart drops as she realizes what she’s looking at: the dragon.

 Vasylia wraps a cloak around her shoulders as she sprints down the street, nearly colliding with several small oil lamps strewn haphazardly along the sides of the streets until she finally bursts in through the library’s doors. A young boy sitting at the front desk looks up at her, not seeming too surprised to meet her in the library late into the evening. He smiles knowingly as he closes the book in front of him and leans over the desk.

“Vasylia, how can I help you?” he asks.

“Osgar, I saw the dragon,” Vasylia explains, still gasping for air after her run. “It was at my window.”

Osgar nods thoughtfully before reaching under the counter and presenting Vasylia with a sword of pure silver. The blade sparkles in the dim light of the library, and Vasylia notices a ruby embossed into the center of the handle. “I knew you would be the one to defeat the dragon,” Osgar smiles proudly.

Vasylia takes a step away from the sword as she scoffs, “I couldn’t possibly fight a dragon. I would be killed instantly.”

Osgar hands the sword to Vasylia, saying, “Trust me, dear Vasylia. You will fight, and you will win.”

Vasylia takes the sword delicately in her hands just as the library quakes tremendously alongside a roar from outside. She looks to Osgar, who only nods in response. She grips the sword tighter in her hands and rushes out into the street again.

The dragon roars like thunder at the sight of Vasylia’s sword. A flame shoots out of the dragon’s throat, which only singes the edge of Vasylia’s cloak. Her heart beats against her ribcage as though it was trying to tear out of her chest as she aims the sword at the dragon’s heart. The dragon casts another fireball at Vasylia, its cry reverberating through the ground. Vasylia throws the sword aimed at the dragon’s heart and hears it cry out again. Suddenly, the dragon’s scales begin to glow white and break away one by one before shooting up into the sky. Once every scale has broken away, the sky is studded with lights, the scales of the dragon glimmering against an ink-black sky.

Vasylia is quickly hailed as a hero in a celebration by the townspeople, being gifted jewels and portraits in her honor. Osgar begins to study the arrangement of the dragon’s scales in the sky, and Mirya retells her sister’s legend with extravagant exaggeration. The stars still shine against the dark in remembrance of Vasylia’s bravery,