Giselle

Giselle is a child of adversity.

She was taken from her homeland as a hostage, her life measured against a debt that spanned generations. Her clan had been small, just a few dragon pairs and their hatchlings, and as such were unprepared for the centaur raid that spilled into their den one midsummer evening. They would have perished if not for another band of raiders – red-eyed dragons from the nearby wastes – who swept in like a hurricane of blades and cut the centaurs down.

They demanded payment for the impromptu rescue, and when the clan elders could not provide enough treasure or food for their liking, they demanded blood for blood spilled.

Giselle had slunk from beneath her dam’s wing, her curiosity at the appearance of these battle hardened strangers drawing her towards the mouth of the den. She drew too close and was snatched up by a wildclaw whose dark scales had allowed him to blend into the starry night sky.

Biting and hissing she was carried away, a promise of her safe return should the clan raise enough treasure to repay their debt thrown carelessly over the shoulder of the dragon who bore her.

As the pitiable cries of her parents tore the night behind her, she had a horrible premonition that she would never see them again.

The band of raiders ran on through the night. Eventually Giselle’s struggles gave way to exhausted sleep, and when she next opened her eyes the world around her had been transformed.

The wavering grass of the highlands had been replaced by hard-packed dirt so dry cracks split its surface like the pelt of a giraffe. The sky had turned the colour of a fresh bruise, and the wind was tainted with the sickly sweet scent of rot.

A ruined fortress was her new home – her prison, despite not being under lock and key. The inhospitable land around the clan’s stronghold a better jailer than any dragon.

She waited there, clinging to hope that any day now she’d receive news from her clan. That they’d raised the needed amount of treasure and she could return home to clear skys and fragrant winds.

In the end, her hope was in vain.