Avin stood quivering with excitement and fear. Her blue hair was wrapped under the black turban meant for contestants, and her blue eyes were slightly watery. At the far end of the arena, the dragon basked in the sun without a care in the world. Why would it anyway? It was Avin who reiterated the routine in her head for the umpteenth time. The routine she had learned from her father, the Chief Dragon Keeper.

Start from the tail, slow and gentle. Then, move to the belly and brush in a circle, edge to center. Then move to the head, keep eye contact if the dragon cares to look. Stay away from the nostrils, unless you want to turn into ashes.

Avin sighed, closing her eyes. 

The bell tolled, echoing off the arena. That was the signal for Avin to begin walking. Her heart hammered in her ears as she stepped forward. The arena was huge, with soot-covered walls as tall as a mature palm tree and spectator stands beyond. Avin shielded her eyes and looked up to the stands teeming with people. 

It was the first time in history a girl was about to contest for the position of a dragon keeper, practically unheard of, and apparently no one wanted to miss out on the fun. Or watch her burn. Being a dragon keeper was a position of high cadre, and you got to be the member of the royal council. But Avin’s fate depended on one and only one thing. The dragon’s choice.

“How would I know if the dragon chose me?” Avin had asked her father when she was a little girl and had seen her first dragon—gleaming scales and fierce eyes. It had sent a shiver down her spine. 

“You would know,” her father said. “The relationship between the dragon and its keeper is special. It’s sacred. Sometimes the dragon nudges the keeper with its nose, or it allows the keeper to caress its neck, or it stands up and bows. But mostly, you would know because if the dragon didn’t choose the contestant, it would kill them.” 

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. But her father patted her head. “You don’t have to worry, sweetie. Girls don’t become dragon keepers anyway.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like an unwritten rule. But I suppose if someone tries, and the dragon approves, they could be.” 

In that moment, Avin had resolved to become a dragon keeper. She had wanted it more than anything, to make her father proud.

In the arena, Avin could feel all eyes glued to her. It seared her skin. When she reached the center, she turned towards the royal box at the top of the stands and bowed to the Queen in her ceremonial golden robes. The Queen answered her bow with a regal smile and a hand raise. The Chief Dragon Keeper sat next to the Queen. But Avin didn’t dare meet his eyes. It would only make her weaker.

Avin took a deep breath, said a small prayer and turned around to face the dragon, still languishing in the same spot with its eyes closed. The scales gleamed onyx and gold in the noonday sun. She repeated the routine in her heart and headed for the dragon’s tail, which lay on the sand motionless.

Immediately she regretted not being careful. A slight brush against the spikes led to a stream of blood running down her hand. She winced as she licked her wound tasting metal. The spikes were sharper than she had thought.

Scraping together all the courage, she began again. She pulled out a brush from her contestant utility belt and brushed the dragon’s tail in gentle circular strokes, making sure to maintain uniform pressure. The dragon hadn’t moved yet. That was something. She was almost at the end of the tail when it swayed and thrashed in a violent arc. She stumbled back and landed hard on her side, pain searing through her arm. The arena exploded in oohs and boos. 

Avin gathered herself up and checked for any wounds. But only her robe had slashed at her upper arm. There wasn’t any new blood, but the beginnings of a nasty bruise showed under it. Lucky save. The tension in the crowd was palpable as everyone waited for the dragon’s looming verdict. It didn’t come, and after an endless half a minute of bated breaths, the dragon quieted down again.

She exhaled slowly and returned to brushing the dragon’s side. The fire rumblings from within the dragon were apparent now. The heat was building up. She gulped but continued forward as determination and fear remained at their unending squabbles. Any minute now, the dragon would make its decision and she would be mere ashes.

Most contestants didn’t go past the middle. But Avin was at the head now, continuing dexterously with the gentlest of touches. The dragon didn’t stir, its eyes remaining firmly closed. The atmosphere was charged, even the Queen was at the edge of her throne, staring down into the arena intently. Blood thrummed in her ears. Something was about to happen. Her eyes moved for just a fraction of a second towards the stands, towards her father.

The crowd groaned disappointed. Avin had gone too close to the dragon’s nostril. But she ducked down just in time, taking shelter right under the dragon’s neck as smoke and fire raged around her. Once it settled, she noticed a spot of glowing skin under the spiky scales where the dragon’s heart should be. Without thinking, she jumped up and put her naked palm on it.

The dragon snapped its eyes open.

A ball of terror lodged in Avin’s throat as the vertical golden eyes speared through her. But she remained still, maintaining eye contact, soft and undaunted, even though her palm scorched from the heat. Her heart hammered in her throat urging her to shut her eyes and shield this entire scene. Smoke emanated from the dragon’s nostrils, hot enough to singe her hair. Nothing happened for a minute which felt like an eternity. But she dared not move. She dared not breathe. She stared into the dragon’s eyes, steeling her nerves and standing her ground. A hushed silence pervaded the arena.

Then the world was chaos.

First, there was the roaring fire that stunned the crowd into silence. Then gusts of wind blew off sand in every direction as the dragon flapped its large wings and took off to the skies, leaving behind a scene of destruction. Avin’s black turban and bits of charred robes lay on the ground, surrounded by glassified sand.

Her father cried her name into the vast skies, pain echoing in his voice. The crowd whispered in morose tones, shuffling in the stands, preparing to exit. The Queen gave a sympathetic nod to the Chief Dragon Keeper and signaled for her royal carriage.

A screeching roar from the skies made everyone shield their eyes and tilt their gazes upwards. It was the dragon, flying in steady circles above. The next moment, it swooped down and landed swiftly on the exact spot in the center of the arena. The crowd broke into loud murmurs, pointing towards it.