How often in life do we stand before a crossroad? Constantly. Day after day, the choices we make build the foundation of our future. And sometimes, everything hangs on a single decision. Sometimes, even a human life. “Well, Maester? Tell me you can help her.” Oles—a tall, dark-haired youth wearing a weathered hunting jacket and equally worn trousers—kept his eyes fixed on the old physician. His gaze was raw, completely filled with desperate hope. “I am truly sorry, Oles,” the small, withered man replied, spreading his thin hands. He was wrapped in a long, dark cloak that entirely hid his hunched silhouette. He tugged at his sparse beard before continuing in a quiet voice, “My remedies are utterly powerless against this.” “Just tell me what herbs or ingredients you need to brew a medicine. I’ll hunt across the entire kingdom; I’ll bring you back whatever you ask. Just save my mother,” the young man pleaded, his voice breaking in despair. “There is no known cure for this affliction,” the old man said, offering a slow shake of his head. “It follows a relentless path. One day, a person simply begins to lose their strength. Their life force leaks away drop by drop—unnoticeably at first, then gaining speed with every passing sunrise. Within a month, the heart simply lacks the strength to beat. Yet, the gods are merciful; this illness brings no agony. Those afflicted depart quietly, slipping into sleep. Find whatever comfort you can in that, lad.” “No. I refuse to believe there is no cure. You are the wisest healer in the realm, Maester. You must have read about an antidote somewhere in your ancient libraries.” “Do you truly believe every single cure is cataloged in human ink?” the old man let out a regretful sigh. “If only the world were that simple. Though... many winters ago, when I was nothing but a physician's apprentice, I did stumble upon a text detailing a method of total deliverance from any mortal malady. Frankly, the remedy was far too incredible to be real. Back then, I dismissed it as old wives' tales. And it likely is.” “What is the method? Tell me, Maester. I don't care how impossible it sounds.” “There is only one panacea in existence capable of curing any terminal affliction,” the elder stated, his voice cracking like dry parchment. “An item so potent it can even pull a soul back from the veil of death, provided the thread was severed only moments prior. It is the Fiery Flower. The records state it takes root exclusively in the deepest cave of the Misty Mountains. But locating the blossom is so treacherous that no living soul can confirm what it looks like—or if the plant truly exists at all.” The old man paused, leaning heavily on his staff. “Furthermore, the legend warns that the flower is guarded by a horrific monster—a beast that incinerates anyone who approaches the sanctuary. In the ancient eras, these blossoms were more common, but greed consumed the lands. Men marched into the peaks to harvest the plants for financial gain. Every single one paid for their avarice with their life. No one has seen a Fiery Flower since.” “I shall set out for the Misty Mountains before the sun sets today,” the youth declared resolutely. “Did your mind fail to process a single word I just uttered?” the old man grumbled testily. “The flowers are gone, boy! The only thing you will reliably locate in those peaks is your own demise. Those mountains are the most dangerous place in the entire kingdom. Even elite warriors refuse to risk the journey, let alone a simple tracker like yourself, Oles. Think this through. Spend these final days by your mother's bedside. Warm her heart. Then, let her go. Her time has come.” “No. I refuse to submit to this fate,” Oles exclaimed, his knuckles whitening. “Mother is far too young to join the ancestors. And my younger sisters cannot navigate this world without her guidance. It is more than enough that our father left us two winters ago. I lacked the power to prevent his passing, but I will save Mother.” “Your father perished in the wilds while hunting to put food on your table,” the old man shook his head gently. “If you vanish into the peaks as well, what becomes of your sisters? Right now, you are their sole protector.” “I will return, Maester. And I will bring back the Fiery Flower.”

The mountain path was brutal. The terrain actively rejected intruders, throwing every possible obstacle in Oles's path to keep him from reaching the coveted cavern in the deep heart of the Misty Mountains. In his settlement, this area was considered a cursed place that even veteran hunters refused to cross. But Oles possessed immense physical strength and a fearless spirit. More importantly, he was driven by a desperate hope. By any means necessary, he would locate the blossom and deliver it to his mother's bedside. The affliction would break, and joy would return to their hearth. The cavern entrance materialized before Oles without warning. A moment prior, he had been navigating blindly through a dense, choking fog, colliding with large boulders and carefully testing the safety of the trail beneath his boots. Suddenly, the mist parted. Looming before him was a colossal mountain peak, its summit piercing the high heavens. Tilting his head back, Oles caught the jagged, black mouth of a cave opening several meters above the ledge. The ascent was treacherous. Multiple times, the hunter lost his footing on the sheer cliff face, scraping his fingers to the bone and leaving blood on the rock, but his stamina held. He dragged himself onto the ledge before the cavern entrance. Halting briefly to stabilize his breathing and clear his mind, he advanced into the dark without delay. Strangely enough, the interior was not a total void. The cavern walls were peppered with thousands of tiny, glowing particles. Peering closer, Oles realized the ambient luminescence was generated by a dense moss that blanketed the stone up to a man's height. Beyond that line, however, the cavern dissolved into a vast, black abyss. It was impossible to tell how high the vaulted ceiling reached. Navigating cautiously along the moss-covered walls, Oles pressed deeper into the subterranean network. Soon, the entrance faded into a distant memory, replaced by a completely different glow ahead. While the wall moss emitted a faint, icy blue aura, the light shifting into view from the central chamber was significantly brighter, warmer. It mirrored the reflections of a roaring bonfire. But who could possibly kindle a flame in a dead place like this? Oles wondered. The old physician's warning about the guardian beast flashed through his mind. The youth instantly grew alert, keeping his hunting spear leveled and his wide iron knife unsheathed. Yet, as he advanced, he encountered no living creatures. Animals, much like humans, instinctively avoided these accursed peaks. Even the mountain birds refused to sing here, as if everything in this place had frozen in time. The narrow tunnel suddenly broke off after a sharp bend, and Oles's eyes widened as he stepped into a colossal cavern. The proportions were staggering, the distant boundaries completely swallowed by the shadows. The center of the chamber was illuminated by a blinding, radiant light. Oles instinctively shielded his eyes, the sudden intensity triggering a sharp ache after the prolonged gloom of the tunnels. Blinking away the glare, his vision resolved a low, stone pedestal in the exact center of the floor. Rooted upon it was a flower of unimaginable, breathtaking beauty. Its size was immense; Oles had never witnessed a blossom of this scale in his entire life. And the plant was undeniably alive. The petals seemed woven from liquid fire, undulating with glowing flashes that pulsed with an internal rhythm. Occasionally, the blossom flared with brilliant intensity, throwing vivid sparks into the air that drifted down onto the stone pedestal before slowly fading away. Oles stood frozen, unable to believe his eyes. His heart had hoped for this outcome, but until this exact second, his rational mind had refused to believe such a miracle could exist. As if caught in a hypnotic trance, he stepped toward the pedestal, his hand extending toward the radiant petals— Suddenly, a low, echoing growl reverberated through the stone. Startled, Oles whirled on his heel, instantly dropping into a defensive stance and raising his spear for a throw. Only then did his vision resolve the colossal form resting in the deep shadows adjacent to the pedestal. A mighty crimson dragon lay in the dark. Only its massive skull, topped with sweeping, swept-back horns and dominated by two enormous, brilliant yellow eyes, was clearly visible. The radiant light from the flower gilded the deep scarlet scales covering its snout, casting dancing reflections across its elongated, black pupils. “What business brings a mortal into my domain?” the dragon rumbled. The sheer weight of the voice made Oles's heart sink into his boots. But the hunter refused to show weakness. He held his ground and spoke boldly: “I require the Fiery Flower. My mother is dying, and according to the ancient records, this is the only remedy that can break her affliction. I ask that you permit me to take it. In return, I will offer whatever service you demand. I am no thief. I propose a fair exchange.” “And what grand service can a fragile, fleeting creature like you possibly provide to a dragon?” The resonant growl carried a distinct, heavy mockery. “I am a hunter. I can hunt and secure vast quantities of wild game for you. Look at your size—maintaining your mass must require immense energy. I am prepared to work off the debt as your servant, but I only ask that you allow me to deliver the blossom to my family first to cure her.” “Humans are liars,” the dragon snorted, a brief jet of smoke venting from its nostrils. “You will take the flower and vanish beyond the mountains. Your species cannot be trusted.” “I swear that I will return to this cave the moment her health stabilizes and death no longer threatens her life.” “Death will reclaim her sooner or later regardless,” the dragon let out a heavy sigh, kicking up a thick cloud of ancient dust from the cavern floor. Oles instinctively covered his face to protect his eyes. “Then let it be later,” Oles countered fiercely. “Mother is far too young to die. Furthermore, I have two younger sisters who desperately require her maternal care. I beg of you—give me the flower.” “Take it,” the dragon exhaled, its heavy eyelids closing in profound weariness. Oles blinked, utterly thrown off balance. “What... just like that? You are simply giving it to me?” “And what else did you expect?” One yellow eye cracked open, inspecting the human with mild curiosity. “Did you prepare for a glorious battle? It would require no effort for me to incinerate you with a single breath. But I have occupied this void for far too many centuries; this endless waiting is unendurable. Take my heart and depart. Perhaps it will indeed heal your mother.” “Your heart?” Oles echoed, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. “What did you think this was?” the dragon asked mockingly, gesturing its snout toward the glowing blossom. “A common piece of flora? No. It is a dragon’s heart, and I gift it to you freely, human. Only through a voluntary transfer can its power manifest a true miracle.” Oles was completely taken aback, his combat stance faltering. “But... if I take your heart, what becomes of you?” “I shall die,” the dragon snorted, as if stating an obvious fact. “Even a dragon cannot maintain life without a heart.” “Then... harvesting this flower means I am murdering you.” “But you will save your mother.” “But you will die!” “And why does my lifespan concern you? Your initial plan was to kill me anyway. You hauled that weapon into my cave for a reason, after all,” the dragon noted, its eyes shifting to the hunting spear still clenched in the youth's grip. “I was prepared for an honorable fight!” Oles snapped, his voice tight with anger. “But I am no executioner. I do not strike a passive target.” “Then you won't have to,” the dragon sighed wearily. “I surrender my heart to you of my own free will. Pluck it and leave my sight. You have exhausted my patience, human. You are going to take the flower regardless, so cease these useless moral doubts.” Oles turned his gaze back to the flower. The undulating fiery light beckoned to him, casting a warm glow across his face. He only had to extend his arm, snap the stem, and his mother would be cured. Vitality and joy would return to his home. Was this not the exact goal that had driven him into this dangerous place? Besides, this dragon had already lived an immense lifespan; it had admitted so itself. Perhaps the creature was simply exhausted, burdened by the weight of its own eternal existence. Why not assist it in ending a tedious cycle? What value was there in a life spent rotting inside a dark cave, eternally guarding one's own heart? The creature deserved mercy. The youth extended his hand, his fingers hovering inches from the fiery petals, ready to sever the core— Suddenly, he froze mid-motion. A vivid image flashed across his mind: his mother's face, her warm smile, and her gentle, calloused hands. He could practically feel her stroking his hair when he was a small child, her voice echoing softly from his memory: “Oles, my love, do not kill that little beetle. Every single life on this earth carries immense value. It is not our position to decide when a life should end. If a creature exists, it means the gods have a unique plan for it. Every tiny insect is worthy of our compassion and respect, because within it flows life, the divine energy of the universe.” What would she say if she saw her son right now? Would a woman of her moral character ever consent to receive health purchased with the life of an innocent creature? Could Oles ever achieve peace of mind knowing that his mother's heartbeat was sustained by the cold-blooded execution of a being far more ancient and wiser than himself? The truth struck him with absolute clarity: he couldn't do it. No matter how agonizing the alternative, no matter how terrifying the fear of loss, he could not trade the life of one living soul for another. He was no god to make such choices. It was not his station to determine who should live and who should die. With a heavy, bitter sigh, the young man turned away from the pedestal. His spear clattered onto the stone floor as his knees gave out, and he buried his face in his hands. Mentally, he began whispering his final goodbyes to his mother, begging for her forgiveness. “Why do you hesitate? Why do you not take the flower?” the dragon’s voice echoed through the vault. “Because I refuse to kill you,” Oles replied, his voice muffled but steady. “I cannot pay a price of that magnitude for my mother's life. And she herself would rather die than accept a sacrifice born of murder.” “But you know there is no other way to save her,” the dragon murmured, the mockery completely gone from its tone. “I know,” Oles echoed hollowly, standing up. “It was our final hope.” “And you are actively walking away from it?” The dragon sounded genuinely surprised. “I am.” Oles squared his shoulders, turning his back on the pedestal and marching toward the dark exit tunnel. “Where are you going, human?” “I am going to attempt to return home before she dies,” Oles said bitterly. “If I run, I might make it back to the settlement before her time runs out. At the very least, I will manage to say my farewells.” “But the cure is right here. I am giving my heart to you freely.” “If your existence did not depend on it, I would accept your gift with gratitude,” Oles said, pausing to look back at the grand crimson silhouette. “But a heart cannot exist on its own. Without its dragon, your heart will die just as swiftly as you will perish without it. You are an inseparable, singular being.” “What a curious creature you are,” the dragon let out a long, low sigh. “In all my centuries, I have never met a human like you. Hundreds of your kind marched into this chamber before you, and every single one joyfully took the hearts of my kin. That is why I have occupied this abyss in absolute isolation for long ages.” “If the isolation is unendurable, then come out with me,” Oles said, a sudden wave of profound empathy washing over him as he stared at the lonely beast. “Out there, beyond these stone walls, lies a vast, brilliant, and fascinating world. Why spend eternity rotting in the dark?” “I must guard my heart,” the dragon reminded him gently. “But can you not simply reunite with it? Since it is literally your own heart,” Oles reasoned, stepping back into the chamber. “Do that, and I will happily accept your gift. I will take your heart—but only if it stays inside you. How does that option sound to you? You can abandon this cavern, leave this place, and see the world beyond the mist. It’s an incredible place; I know you’ll love it. What do you say, dragon? Will you come with me?” “And you won't be afraid with me by your side?” the dragon asked, its massive yellow eyes boring into his soul. “Do you truly desire this?” “I do,” Oles answered firmly, offering a warm smile. “If I cannot save my mother, let me at least make someone else happy.” “Very well.” The entire mountain system violently shook as the colossal dragon rose to its feet. The beast advanced toward the stone pedestal where the Fiery Flower still pulsed with radiant light. It lowered its massive skull, leaning down as if to inhale the blossom’s fragrance. Instantly, the glowing petals surged upward, wrapping around the dragon's snout, cloaking the massive head in a roaring sheet of pure flame. Oles watched the phenomenon with his mouth open, utterly spellbound. The magical fire expanded rapidly, cascading over the dragon's scales until the immense, ancient body was completely swallowed within a brilliant, blazing bonfire. For a fractured second, the entire cavern was illuminated by a light as bright as a newborn star. Oles violently squeezed his eyes shut, unable to endure the intensity. When the glare subsided and he finally opened his eyes, his mind refused to process the scene. Resting on the stone pedestal where the flower had bloomed just a moment prior was a young girl. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her presence radiating a soft warmth. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in shifting, brilliant crimson flashes, her delicate features entirely lacking the coarse lines of common mortals. Her immense, expressive eyes were a vivid, striking yellow—identical to the dragon's. Oles blinked, scanning the chamber. Wait, where did the guardian beast go? Aside from himself and this radiant girl, the massive cavern was entirely vacant. The girl stood up unsteady, her slender hand resting against the pedestal for balance. She wore a brilliant scarlet tunic with matching trousers tapering at her ankles. Her neck, wrists, and ankles were adorned with dozens of bracelets and necklaces that emitted a melodious, crystalline jingle with her every movement. “Why do you look at me with such intensity?” she asked, her voice carrying a melodic cadence that vibrated against the innermost strings of his soul. “Who... who are you?” Oles asked hoarsely, his throat suddenly running bone-dry. “I am the one you just liberated,” the girl smiled, her eyes crinkling. “My name is Miraya, and I agree to go with you. After all, I have already given you my heart.” “You... you were the dragon?” Oles stammered, still unable to believe it. “I am the final surviving representative of our species,” Miraya nodded gently. “And you are the sole human in history who refused to take a dragon's heart alone. You wanted me as well. Or have you changed your mind?” She squinted at him slyly. “No! No, not at all!” The words tumbled out of the youth entirely too fast, and he instantly flushed a deep crimson, looking down in embarrassment. “I... I just never imagined I could receive a gift of this magnitude. Are you certain you want a simple hunter like me, Miraya? Every prince and king in our world would gladly fight for your favor. They would hurl all the treasures of the world at your feet.” “I have already found my treasure,” the girl said, her smile warming the entire stone room. “The heart that beats inside your chest. It is more precious to me than everything else. Now, let us hasten to your mother, Oles.” “You're right!” Oles snapped out of his daze, the mention of his mother shattering the spell. “We must run. Let her at least rejoice before she dies, knowing her son found his true love.” “Come, Oles,” the girl stepped toward him and took his hand. “Hold on tight. I can bring us to your home in an instant.” “Are you going to change back into the beast?” Oles asked, a hint of anxiety tightening his chest. “Of course, once we step outside the cave,” Miraya nodded. “And do not worry. Now that my heart is back with me, I can assume my human form at any given second.” Riding on the back of a dragon was a terrifying yet simultaneously wild, intoxicating experience. The sheer speed took Oles's breath away every single time they dived down through the clouds or soared upward on the air currents. The journey to the settlement took only a matter of minutes, covering the immense distance from the Misty Mountains. Oles, by contrast, had spent several days traveling it on foot. The dragon touched down flawlessly at the lonely edge of the forest where no people could spot them, shifting back into the radiant girl. From there, they covered the final distance to Oles's homestead on foot. Oles’s mother was on the verge of death. The poor woman lay motionless on the bed, her breathing so shallow it barely registered. Her skin had turned a translucent, deathly pale white, allowing the delicate blue lines of her veins to show clearly. Oles’s younger sisters let out a sob, throwing themselves around his neck; they had long since abandoned any hope of seeing their brother walk out of the Misty Mountains alive. Miraya, however, moved past them, stepping directly to the sick woman's bedside. She sat gracefully next to her and took the dying woman’s limp hand in her own. Suddenly, Miraya’s palm erupted into a brilliant golden flame, and Oles's sisters shrieked in terror at the sight. But the youth held his ground, watching in profound awe as the magical fire from his beloved’s hand flowed smoothly into his mother’s arm. The golden energy ascended higher and higher, gradually enveloping her entire frail frame beneath the blanket in a cocoon of glowing magic. Time lost all meaning inside the cabin; everything seemed to freeze solid while the ancient magic completed its work. When the blinding glow finally dissolved, the dying woman was gone. Sitting up on the mattress was Oles's mother—completely rejuvenated and perfectly healthy. She looked upon her supernatural savior with eyes full of love and tearful joy. “Mother!” Oles was the first to move, dropping to his knees by the cot. “You're cured!” “My son,” the woman opened her arms, pulling him into a fierce, trembling embrace. “How I rejoiced that you returned to us unharmed. And you have brought such a beauty into our home. Who is she, Oles?” “This is Miraya,” Oles replied, turning to the crimson-haired girl. He took her hand, locking his fingers tightly with hers. “My betrothed.” “What magnificent news,” his mother smiled, her tears flowing freely now. “Welcome to our family, Miraya. And thank you for my miraculous healing.” “Do not direct your gratitude toward me,” the dragon girl replied softly. “It was your son’s heart that managed to warm my core and rekindle my internal fire. Your healing is entirely his doing. He managed to make the right moral choice, and he received his reward.” “My Fiery Flower,” Oles murmured, pulling his betrothed against his chest and wrapping her securely in his arms. “The most wondrous flower in the entire world.” The End