Dana was taken aback when she first saw the house they were headed to. As she traveled along the route, she hadn’t expected to leave the city and find herself on a dirt road. The motorcycle, however, was a huge help—it was as though it was built to navigate this very terrain.
Even the air smelled different now, leaving the pollution behind. After several minutes of travel, they passed through an open gate that invited them to a house of another time—one from an era when paint couldn’t cling to the walls for long. Despite this, the house had a peculiar charm; the thick columns gave it an imposing look.
Jacob stopped beside a small bridge that separated an empty pool from the front door of the house, then shut off the engine. He waited for Dana to find her way down, and then followed her, admiring the woman who could summon fire with her hands. She had a curvaceous feminine allure, though it seemed as though her body was out of shape—something that only added to her appeal.
"Is this the place you were talking about?" she asked.
"Welcome to my humble abode," Jacob replied, removing his helmet. "By the way, what did you say your name was?"
"I haven’t said."
"Well then, follow me," Jacob said, leaving his bike standing on its kickstand. "It’s not much, but it might work if you need a place to sleep."
When they stepped inside, it was immediately obvious that the house belonged to a single man. The interior was disorganized, with no decorations to speak of, but it was filled with various sports equipment. They continued walking without asking questions. Yet, Jacob couldn't stop thinking about the sorceress’s name, though he tried to mask his frustration. After all, he wasn’t sure if it was right to feel this way.
For Jacob, feelings were hard to grasp—like a series of chemical explosions without any tools to turn them into ideas. He struggled to differentiate between anxiety and happiness. This made him different, and was the reason he preferred solitude—far from the confusion of not understanding others. And so, he noticed that it was normal for her not to want to share her name.
"Well, dragon girl," Jacob said. "Here’s the kitchen. Please, put everything back in its place after you use it."
Dana nodded. She was taken aback by the decor. This couldn’t possibly be his work—especially the small porcelain plates against the wall. A chill ran through her, one she couldn’t explain.
"Here are the bedrooms," Jacob said, passing by her after leaving the kitchen.
A narrow wooden staircase connected the ground floor to the basement. Dana hadn’t expected sunlight to be streaming through a glass door when they reached the bottom.
"This is your room," Jacob said, pointing to the first wooden door on the right.
The house was built on a slope, so the upper floor and basement both had windows looking outside. Of the four rooms, Jacob used one next to Dana’s, while the others were a storage room and a bathroom with a closet.
"Is all of this yours?" she asked.
"It belonged to my father," he replied. "Rest his soul."
"I’m sorry."
"It was a long time ago."
"Well, what about you?" Dana asked. "How do you make a living?"
"Follow me, I’ll show you."
They both climbed the wooden stairs to the first floor and arrived at a room beside the front door. The wooden door was locked, and Jacob took his keyring from his pocket, inserting a slender silver tube into a tiny hole. After a series of random movements, apparently struggling with the lock, he said, "Done," and opened the door.
Inside, they found a small room with a staircase leading to the second floor. They ascended to find a painter’s studio, with hundreds of paintings scattered about, tripods, brushes, tables—everything was in disarray.
"Look," Jacob said. "Let me show you my latest work."
He approached a painting covered by a white cloth and pulled it away. The lines and black dots on the paper appeared random, but the shape they formed was easy to comprehend, even though one couldn’t be sure of what it was. It was a unique piece of art, and Dana couldn’t take her eyes off it.
"Do you make these?" she asked. "But, how do you live off this?"
Jacob nodded. "I sell them, of course."
"And you can live off that?"
"You’d be surprised how many people enjoy my work."
"That’s amazing," she said, adjusting her hair. "By the way, the name’s Dana, just so you know."
"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dana," Jacob said, gazing directly into her green eyes.
"Well, how do I get out of here?"
"I need to go into town to buy a few things. We could go together if you want."
"Sure, that sounds fine."
"Wait here," Jacob said. "I’ll be right back."
Dana was left alone among Jacob’s works, hundreds of drawings scattered across the room. Some seemed less important than others, but the same style was unmistakable. It was as if he’d accepted that he was good at something and devoted himself to it. But she needed to make sure she wasn’t caught, so she recalled an incantation.
It didn’t take long to find the page in her book. As she noticed her dragon flying around the paintings, leaving a trail of light like a comet, she didn’t pay much attention to her companion and continued casting the spell, unaware that a gust of wind was rising around her, lifting the canvases throughout the room.
Once the incantation was complete, a sphere of light began to grow before her, becoming so large it spilled out of the room and kept expanding, eventually covering the entire house. Immediately, the canvases fell to the floor, and she began a new spell, one that would help her tidy everything up.
Jacob climbed the stairs to find her in the center of the room, her eyes closed, her hands moving as if she was putting everything in place. "What are you doing?"
Once her work was finished, the room looked cleaner and more organized than before. The paintings now resembled museum-quality pieces, ready to be displayed. "I did a protection spell."
He seemed confused. "I’m ready."
Dana waited for her dragon to return to her bag before following him.