[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-saya-and-the-dragon":3,"chapter-saya-and-the-dragon-saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-7":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Saya and the Dragon",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1705194,2177,"Chapter Eight: The Order of Things","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-7",7,"\u003Cp>Riding a dragon is not as glamorous as it sounds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There’s wind. There’s height. There’s the constant, numbing terror of your partner sneezing mid-flight and sending you pinwheeling into some unfortunate goat village.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But worst of all?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scales.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His scales were hard. Bumpy. Like polished gravel with commitment issues. And between them and my sore, tunic-draped butt cheeks… well. Let’s just say romance was very much not in the air.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I shifted again, trying to redistribute pressure away from anything I needed for future sitting. “You never talk about your past.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t answer immediately. Just flew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clouds whipped past like gossip. Below, the world rolled in greens and browns. Somewhere, a flock of birds made a startled V away from our path, probably mid-therapy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Well?” I poked a scale with my toe. “Don’t make me guess.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He exhaled smoke through his nostrils. “I’m old, Saya.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No kidding.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ancient, by your standards.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Most brothels are older than me. That doesn’t make them mysterious sages.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He rumbled. “What’s there to tell?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe what you were doing before you started extorting villages with a freelance harlot?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He banked slightly, the wind hissing between his teeth. “I was around when the Soo’ook Empire was still a thing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The what Empire?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Soo’ook,” he repeated. “Mighty coastal nation. Spanned half the continent. Invented aqueducts, baked cheese, and passive aggression.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Never heard of them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Exactly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked. “How long ago are we talking?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gestured with a wing. “See that forest?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I peered down. A thick green swathe like a sleeping beast across the hills.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He continued, “I remember when it was just fields and huts. Dirt roads. Goats that hadn’t evolved eyebrows yet.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wow.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And before that,” he said, voice lower, almost reverent, “it was another forest. Older. Wilder. Untamed.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stared at the trees, then back at him. “So… how *old* are you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He growled. “That’s impolite.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, come on.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m not a barrel of mead with a date scratched on the bottom.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Are you triple digits? Quadruple? Quintuple?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave me a sidelong glance. “I have personally witnessed the rise and fall of thirteen currencies, eight empires, and at least two sandwich-related religions.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So… old.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I don’t count.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Because you forgot how?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Because *it doesn’t matter.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I flopped forward over his neck ridge dramatically. “You are no fun.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fun has nothing to do with it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Says the dragon with a poetry collection and four kinds of scented oils hidden in his hoard.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He snorted. “I use those for stress.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You used one to polish your claws.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They shine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sat up again, pulling my tunic forward so I wasn’t flashing passing clouds. “So tell me. Why the burning? The terrorizing? You don’t even *like* virgins. And you hate goats.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s the order of things.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What does that even mean?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t answer immediately. Just beat his wings once, twice. The air trembled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, slower, “Because that’s what we *do.* Dragons burn. They hoard. They *terrorize.* We play our part in the world’s theater.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s bleak.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s biology.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Biology doesn’t make you demand tribute from peasants and hoard tiaras.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It does if you’re a dragon.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I crossed my arms, sulking behind his horns. “You’re not just a dragon. You’re *you.*”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m me *because* I’m a dragon.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s circular logic.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s tradition.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s a cop-out.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He growled softly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I leaned down and whispered near his ear-hole ridge. “What if you didn’t?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Didn’t what?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Didn’t follow the script. Didn’t burn. Didn’t hoard. Didn’t scare the locals unless they *really* deserved it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He scoffed. “And do what? Knit?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Open a tavern. Host orgies. Become a traveling courtesan. I don’t know. You’re very warm and good at exfoliating.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then: “I tried once.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked. “What?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I tried. A long time ago. Swore off burning. Swore off tribute. Went vegetarian for half a century. Lived in a cave near a lake. Painted sunsets.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Holy shit. You’re serious.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was peaceful.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What happened?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sighed. “A prince found me. Wrote a ballad. Brought a hunting party. Called it a rite of manhood.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I melted his armour.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fair.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“With him still inside...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And then I burned a village.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Also fair.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wind roared around us. My hair whipped in my face. Below, the world went on pretending we didn’t exist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I reached down and gently stroked one of his neck ridges. “You know, for a terrifying symbol of primal chaos, you’re kind of a sweetheart.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I eat people.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Only the stupid ones.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I hoard treasure.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So do bankers.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I set things on fire.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Okay, that’s actually a little hot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He groaned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We flew on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I didn’t press further.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because I’d seen it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That moment. That tiny fracture in the sarcasm. A glimpse of something raw and real and old beneath the scales and wit and theatrical disdain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wasn’t just playing a role.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was surviving one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And maybe—just maybe—so was I.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was quiet for a while after that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, without turning his head: “What about *your* past?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked. “Mine?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I leaned forward, arms wrapped around his neck ridge again. “What about it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re young,” he said. “Not much karma accumulated, maybe. But you must have something.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I shrugged. “You know what they say. Yesterday is history, tomorrow’s a village we haven’t scammed yet.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I know you were a harlot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Still am,” I corrected. “Just freelance now. Set my own hours. Scales instead of sheets.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And that you’re from Seebulba.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Loosely.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s that supposed to mean?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sighed. “I passed through Seebulba when I was, like… ten? Eleven? It was big. Loud. I got a job serving drinks and sleeping with sad people. Stayed a few years. Left. That’s it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Family?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Orphan,” I said. “Probably.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Probably?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I don’t remember them, if I had them. Maybe I got dumped. Maybe they died. Maybe I just wandered off one day and nobody followed. You tell me which makes the best bedtime story.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Who sold you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Indentured,” I said, the word sticky in my mouth. “In-den-chur-ed. That’s what they called it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Indentured,” he corrected gently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yeah. That.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“To whom?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I straightened, spine tight. “You’re nosy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m not asking to pity you,” he said at last.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Good. Because I hate pity.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I just want to know who I’m flying with.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then call me Saya. From Seebulba. Whore. Thief. Not sentimental. And very, *very* good with my toes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He made a sound like a laugh swallowed by smoke.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fair enough,” he said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We didn’t speak again for a long time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But his tail curled slightly backward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brushed my calf.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Warm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Humans are cruel,” he said finally. “And that’s something, coming from a mythical monster.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Bit rich,” I muttered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But true. Look what they do to girls like you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I smiled grimly. “I must’ve done something really dreadful in a past life if that was my karma.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Might not be *that* dreadful,” he said. “You still got to meet me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I chuckled. “Fair. And you? What sort of past life karma gets you born as an ancient flying monster with scale dandruff and commitment issues?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No clue,” he said. “Do dragons even reincarnate?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do they?” I asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shrugged under me. “I don’t remember any past lives.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Well,” I said, “maybe this is your chance to get it right.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t answer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he didn’t disagree.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The clouds parted ahead, revealing a glittering river far below, winding like a silver ribbon through a velvet-green valley.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I leaned forward, breath catching. “That’s pretty.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s full of leeches.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Okay, less pretty.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Accurate, though.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sat back again, hair whipping behind me. “So, no past lives. No great destiny. Just us.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just us.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You ever think that’s enough?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I do now.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1284,"2026-06-06T14:39:25.900Z",1,"novelbin.me","894689c0daae8f58e49bc884b54852e4ebe6f87d1434b762069b916a65a6d931","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-8","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-6",228,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fsaya-and-the-dragon-cover.jpg"]