“I think he is very knowledgeable,” Leonardo lisped. “He just doesn’t get out much, with him being rooted in place and all.”

  Flynn scoffed. “I’ve yet to hear any knowledge come out of his bark.”

  Arguably, they had only seen Director Remus once since their first encounter — in a most unexpected turn of events. Flynn and Oscar had been summoned into the tree’s stuffy office shortly after a letter from the King of Verantis reached the Mythical Ward. Presumably, it hadn’t been written by the king himself, but it was surprising all the same.

  The note was decorated with gold leaf and smelled of roses. In it, the king, or one of his advisors, inquired about the progress of Oscar’s therapy and his general health. The wording was unusually friendly, the author tossing in the occasional compliment and well-wishes. Clearly, the king was still worried Oscar had connections to the dragon empire of Althareon, and that he would use them to throw a war-inspiring fit. Ironically, the king’s suspicion wasn’t even that far from the truth — Oscar had those connections. But the blue dragon would rather jump off the mile-high Mythical Ward than reach out to his parents.

  Of course, the king didn’t know any of that.

  Or did he?

  Flynn frowned, and Leonardo nodded in agreement.

  “He can come off as a bit temperamental at times.”

  “What?” Flynn murmured, deep in thought.

  Leonardo scratched his horse mane with his hooves.

  “Director Remus. Isn’t that who we are talking about?”

  “Oh, of course,” Flynn muttered.

  “Well, anyhow, I’m sure you’ll find him to be a perfectly charming tree once you get to know him better.”

  “Don’t let him hear you use the t-word,” Flynn snorted.

  Leonardo considered the remark.

  “You are absolutely right. I shall venture to improve my vocabulary. Thank you, friend.”

  “Okay, everyone,” Elli said firmly and gestured for them to settle down.

  On the way to his seat, Flynn noticed that Dora’s slitted eyes were resting on him, a judgmental frown on her cat features. He pulled a face, and the feline hissed.

  Oscar, who’d been caught in a discussion with Patricia, wobbled over and sat down on his pillow. It was by far the largest in the room, and the dragon’s sharp scales had already done a number on it.

  “Today, we’re going to start off a little differently,” the therapist said and let her eyes wander through their circle.

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a round knitted object filled with coffee beans.

  “I would like to talk about things that make us feel better and help us with our problems.”

  She briefly kneaded the small sack in her hand, the pleasant rustling noise filling the air.

  “Someone will start off by sharing their thoughts. Then, they get to toss this little charm to whoever they’d like to hear from next. You don’t have to speak, but you are very much encouraged to — you know the drill.”

  The therapist smiled and cocked her head.

  “So, who would like to start?”

  The mermaid’s hand shot up and Elli clicked her tongue.

  “Sorry, love, but maybe someone else today?”

  Patricia’s smile got a slight dent, but she still remained her cheerful self.

  “What about you, Clyde?” the therapist asked. “You want to tell us what makes you feel better?”

  The manticore flinched and instinctively reached for his scorpion tail.

  “It can be a recent example,” Elli continued, “or something from your past. Just anything that helps you navigate this complicated world.”

  Clyde nodded stiffly.

  “Okay,” he whispered with a slight purr.

  Elli smiled and tossed him the sack of beans, and the manticore caught it nimbly with his lion paw.

  What followed was a brief and rather awkward monologue about the manticore’s constant insecurity and how he’d discovered that tactile sensation was a reliable method to make him feel better. As such, he’d often play with his own scorpion tail, but he recently discovered that large balls of yarn served the same purpose, and sometimes would even do more to keep him calm.

  Clyde seemed a bit uncomfortable admitting to this habit of his, but was visibly relieved when his words were met with support and positive reinforcement. Elli even offered that he could bring his favorite yarn to the next session if he thought that’d help him. The manticore purred with satisfaction and curled his tail.

  “That is very kind of you,” he said quietly and inclined his large head. “Thank you!”

  His eyes then scurried through the room and finally remained on Oscar.

  “Would you like to go next, Oscar?” Clyde asked sheepishly.

  “Sure, this is an easy one,” the dragon said happily and puffed.

  Flynn watched in disbelief as Oscar caught the sack of beans with his massive front foot. It was utterly bizarre for the dragon to willingly talk about himself — and it instilled Flynn with an unhealthy level of discomfort and fear.

  The dragon cleared his throat with a low grumble, then shifted on his pillow to make himself comfortable.

  “What makes me feel better,” he began, “is that I always have Flynn by my side.”

  The mermaid sighed emotionally and shot Flynn a soft smile.

  Dora purred in disbelief.

  “Flynn doesn’t always understand me,” Oscar continued, “but he knows me. I don’t feel like I have to hide who I am from him, even if he does occasionally make fun of me.”

  The mood in the room shifted. Oscar’s cheerful words did not find the reaction he was probably expecting — instead, multiple pairs of eyes gave Flynn a scrutinizing look, silently asking how he could make fun of such a lovely creature. Even Patricia had stopped smiling.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “I am not the easiest dragon to be around,” Oscar admitted, oblivious to his surroundings. “I have a lot of quirks and questionable habits, as Flynn keeps reminding me.”

  Flynn bit his lip.

  “But despite all the grief I put him through, Flynn has been there for me all this time, even when I get nervous and lose control of my actions, which is how we ended up here in the first place. Flynn didn’t have to join me, but he did, despite his skepticism of this institution and therapy as a whole.”

  Flynn squirmed on his pillow, trying to sink a little deeper into the soft cushion.

  “I’m not sure I could do any of this without him and his support. Flynn always has my back … and that’s why he definitely makes me feel better,” the blue dragon concluded, a sharp-teethed smile on his leathery lips.

  A moment of silence passed before Elli nodded appreciatively — not without giving Flynn a side eye, though.

  “What the two of you have is truly special,” she said in a friendly voice, leaving her words open for interpretation.

  Oscar smiled, and the tension in the room slowly subsided.

  The other group members followed one after the other, sharing what silver linings their troubled lives had to offer. Most were pretty mundane — Patricia explained how the friendships this group had formed were the best thing that had happened to her in a long time, while Bjorn highlighted his recent involvement with the rugby team Ferdinand’s overly optimistic mention of a scheduled outing with Ruby’s frequent flyers group caused some raised eyebrows, but it was plain to see that the prospect made the jar of ash feel better.

  When everyone had taken their turn, Elli looked into the round with a satisfied smile.

  “Great! Now that we are all in the right frame of mind, we can start with our actual topic for today.”

  Her gentle eyes rested on each of them for a brief moment.

  “I would like to talk about how we got here. What made us seek out therapy? What events led to us being here?”

  She glanced at Oscar.

  “And since Oscar already touched on that aspect earlier, I would love for him to go first.”

  Oscar gulped, and the initial excitement of sharing what made him feel better vanished within an instant.

  “Oh,” he puffed, tail drooping.

  “Don’t worry — nothing you share will offend anyone here.”

  “Wanna bet?” Flynn muttered under his breath.

  Oscar shuffled on his pillow, a wisp of smoke escaping his flaring nostrils.

  “Well … okay.”

  Elli smiled and gestured for him to continue.

  “You see … I actually had to come here. The king of Verantis demanded it.”

  “So it wasn’t of your own choosing?” the mermaid asked in surprise.

  “No,” the dragon admitted and shook his head, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to come.”

  “Why would the king personally send you here?” Leonardo asked in astonishment.

  “Are you famous or something?” the cyclops grunted.

  Oscar sighed. “Infamous, if anything.”

  Flynn braced himself for what was to come next, hoping it wouldn’t mentally scar the dragon any further than it already had.

  “I had to come here because I caused a lot of damage and hurt a lot of people.”

  Facial expressions around them darkened — not with judgment, but with sadness.

  Oscar didn’t dare to look at anyone, so he just stared at his tucked talons.

  “Of course I didn’t mean for any of it to happen, but sometimes, I just can’t control myself — especially when I get nervous. Really nervous, I mean,” he added, when it was plain to see that he was nervous in this very moment.

  Flynn remembered Elli mentioning that most of the Mythical Ward’s interior was fireproof, but not the people inside of it. Suddenly, he wondered whether it had been such a good idea to touch on this particular topic in today’s session.

  At least, he thought, he was sitting behind the dragon and his fire-breathing mouth.

  “The day before I was sent here, it got particularly bad,” Oscar continued in his low baritone. ”I got more nervous than ever, and I completely lost control of my mind and body. Unfortunately, that happened right in the heart of Verantis’s capital.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Flynn was sure that all of them had heard the news about the devastating fires that ravaged the city of Caon. The reports had only mentioned some monster being responsible — no one in their right mind would’ve ever suspected the gentle dragon that was now sitting among them.

  “That was you?” the ash that was Ferdinand asked, shifting in its jaw.

  Oscar’s breath was shallow and raspy, but he forced himself to go on.

  “It was, yes. When I panicked, I did some terrible things. Things that I will never forgive myself for. And neither should the people of Caon forgive me for what I’ve done to them. It was right of the king to send me away. Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped there.”

  “Don’t say that,” Patricia whispered with tears in her eyes.

  Oscar’s scales trembled. “It is true, though. Dragons are powerful creatures, even the likes of me. And if I can’t control my emotions, I’m a liability to everyone around me.”

  No one said anything for a long moment, and Flynn cautiously stroked the dragon’s scaly tail.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Leonardo said quietly, his lisp almost comforting. “What got you so nervous that day?”

  Oscar shivered, closing his eyes as if to blind himself to memories too painful to revisit.

  For a brief moment, Flynn considered jumping to the dragon’s aid. It would’ve been foolish, and he knew it, but he hated seeing Oscar like this.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about that part just yet,” Elli chimed in with her soothing voice.

  Oscar unclenched his muscles, his amber eyes scurrying through the room.

  “If it’s alright with you …?”

  “Oh, of course,” Leonardo neighed. “I didn’t mean to prod, dear friend.”

  Oscar nodded stiffly.

  “Why don’t we instead focus on what happened next?” the therapist suggested, clicking her pen.

  The dragon slowly folded his wings.

  “I can try,” he offered, and Elli gave him an encouraging smile

  “Like I said, I lost control. And that’s not a good thing if you are supposed to control the body of a dragon. I turned into a monster”— Flynn flinched at the mention of the word monster —” and I wreaked havoc in half the city before Flynn could calm me down.”

  Oscar sighed into the tense silence that followed his words.

  “The worst part about it is that that’s exactly what my parents wanted me to do — kill humans, set their houses ablaze, destroy their cities. I guess they got what they wanted after all.”

  “That’s not true!” Patricia protested. “You are nothing like your parents!”

  Before Oscar could respond, the manticore stirred.

  “Your parents wanted to hurt people,” Clyde said quietly. “You never intended for that to happen. That is an important difference.”

  “Exactly,” Ferdinand chimed in. “It was an accident.”

  The dragon grimaced as his own words were now used against him.

  “The outcome is the same, though,” he murmured pensively. “What difference does it make whether I wanted to hurt these poor people or not? They are dead now.”

  “It makes all the difference!” Patricia insisted.

  “You are no killer,” Bjorn said firmly, with the resolve of someone who knew exactly what it took to be one.

  His words hung awkwardly in the air for a long moment.

  Elli gently folded her hands and leaned forward. “It was very brave of you to share all of this, Oscar. It takes a lot of courage to expose the sides of our personalities we don’t want other people to see. You opened yourself, expecting judgment — but you found support. Why is that?”

  The dragon furrowed his horns. “I … I don’t know.”

  Elli laid a finger on her cheek.

  “It’s because we can all see so clearly who you truly are — and who you want to be. The dragon who panicked in Caon is in truth the kindest, most lovable dragon any one of us has ever come across.”

  She shot Oscar a warm smile, and the rest of the group nodded in agreement. Ferdinand bobbed his jar.

  “You are a gentle soul, Oscar, and you have such a big heart.”

  Anatomically speaking, she is not wrong, Flynn thought to himself, suppressing the urge to smile at the most inappropriate time.

  “We all know you would never want to hurt anyone,” the therapist continued, “and even if you can’t see the difference that makes, we can. And we will help you get to a point where you can control your emotions, so that you can always be who you want to be: a kind, loving dragon.”

  A fist-sized tear rolled down Oscar’s scaly neck, and suddenly, Flynn didn’t feel so bad about therapy anymore.