VELMORA

The two-headed troll slowly stood at the crossroads. He was fifteen feet tall, with pale blue skin and covered in pinkish warts that glistened under the last rays of the sun. His eyes were tiny and dark green, rimmed in yellow rather than white.

He wiped both heads with his filthy hands; his left head yawned while the right head sneezed. As they stared ahead, both sets of large eyes widened at the sight of a small person holding a red baby dragon.

The left head scratched his chin. His voice was resonant, almost soothing, like an elder trying to sound wise. “What is that?”

The right head sneezed again, then leaned forward. His tone was sharper but still had a strange, caring depth. “Who are you?”

She moved closer to them, her feet crunching on gravel. She was barely three feet tall, with untamed hair with flamed-colored strands. Her eyes were sharp and unyielding, glowing like molten lava.

“This is my dragon Varnyx, and my name is Velmora,” she said.

As the sun began to set behind the crossroads, they stretched out like two paths of destiny. Above, the sky was painted blood-orange as the sun sat.

The left head squints to get a better look at them. The right head sneezes again, as if there’s something in the air.

“I’m Greg. Take the left road; the people there will worship your dragon,” the left head said, his deep voice was like soft thunder.

“I’m Gary. Take the right road; the people there will make you their leader,” the right head replied, in a tone that almost sounded protective.

Greg pointed a finger toward the right path. “If you take the right road, your dragon will be eaten.”

“If you take the left road, you will be eaten,” Gary snarled.

Velmora gripped her dragon tightly, holding it close enough to her face so that Varnyx could feel her heartbeat. Tiny sparks flickered at the corner of his mouth; it smelled like heated iron, and Velmora could taste it.

“Are you telling the truth?” she asked.

“I am,” said Greg in a soft voice, almost pleading. “He isn’t.”

Gary shook his bald head slowly, his voice heavy with conviction, “Don’t listen to him.”
“My dragon can tell who is lying,” Velmora said with a faint smile.

The dragon began to heat up, the smell of iron filled the air, the right head couldn’t stop sneezing, and Velmora felt the scales growing hotter.

“You look young,” Greg said softly.

“We have nothing to gain,” Gary muttered.

“You also look smart,” Greg added.

“We are not as smart as you,” Gary said quickly, with desperation.

“You will figure it out,” Greg urged hopefully. “Think of your dragon.”

“We want you to do the right thing, think of yourself,” Gary snapped with urgency.

The blood moon light shone over both trolls’ bald heads, yet the troll kept their argument at bay, using temptation and fear to influence her decision.

Velmora closed her eyes and said, “I’ll sacrifice myself; my dragon will become a god.” “No, no!” both heads shouted.

In a quick motion, Velmora took the left road. The dragon scales grew uncomfortably hot as Varnyx flew beside her, red sparks flying. Suddenly, the two-headed troll jumped in front of her, causing the ground to tremble beneath his feet.

“Wait! Maybe there’s another way to handle this,” Graig shouted.

“Yes! Listen to us, we have a plan,” Gary cried.

“Take the right road,” Greg pleaded. “Become a leader.”

“Leave the dragon with us,” Gary said. “We’ll raise him.”

“Once you become a leader, change the rules, ban feeding on dragons,” Greg urged.

“By then, your dragon will become huge and strong,” Gary added.

Velmora exhaled, her eyes closed, as she held one hand over the other. “Varnyx will not get any bigger,” said Velmora. “We are tiny, not young,”

Varnyx soared over Velmora’s head, spreading its tiny wings, slicing the air like knives. He knew exactly what to do. Fire erupted across the crossroads; Greg raised his arms to shield himself, while Gary screamed.

Everything turned red. In a single strike, Varnyx’s wings sliced through both necks. The troll’s heads tumbled to the ground.
She stood alone, her dragon circling above her head. The two roads stretched before her, but they were hers to choose.

Mohammad Jaber is an emerging writer based in Orlando, FL. Originally from Jordan, he is passionate about exploring themes of identity, imagination, and transformation through short fiction. When he’s not writing, he enjoys experimenting with creative media and discovering new ways to tell stories.