Fury of the Dragon

Once upon a time, in a quiet little village surrounded by mountains and forests, life was simple and peaceful. The villagers were hardworking people. They farmed the land, raised animals, and in the evenings, gathered in the main square to share the events of the day.

One morning, Peter, a fisherman living at the edge of the forest, ran to the village square in despair. His son, little Matthew, had not returned home the previous evening from the stream where he always played. The neighbors immediately wanted to help and searched the forest together, but it was in vain—the boy had vanished without a trace. Panic spread through the village. The next day, another family experienced the same horror when their daughter, Rose, disappeared while playing in the meadow behind their house. The disappearances gradually became a daily occurrence.

The villagers could not understand what was happening. No one had heard strange noises or seen any strangers in the area. It seemed as if some invisible force had taken the children. The mothers cried every day, while the men gathered to figure out what to do.

After some time, a rumor began to spread: a wicked dragon living deep in the forest might be behind it all. The elders knew of this creature from old tales. It was said to have terrorized the area centuries ago before vanishing from sight. Now, it seemed, it had returned to bring fear to the village once more.

The village leaders decided to seek help from the king. A small delegation set out for the palace to report what had happened. The king, known for his sense of justice, took the news seriously.
– A dragon! Such a monster cannot remain unpunished in my kingdom! – he declared, and announced:
– Whoever defeats the dragon and brings back the children will be rewarded with a great sack of gold!

Many brave knights came forward, clad in full armor, even from distant lands, and their numbers seemed almost endless.
Following the dragon’s trail, they all ventured into the forest, but the path was dangerous and unpredictable. Some got lost near the forest’s edge, while others, venturing deeper, heard strange and chilling sounds that filled them with fear. After a while, the knights began to turn on each other.

– Why are you going this way? This is my territory! – one shouted.
– The king’s reward is mine! Turn back, or you’ll have to face me! – another replied.

Because of their greed and constant quarrels, many never even reached the dragon. Those who did confront it clearly underestimated its power. The dragon’s fire burned hotter than anything they had ever seen, and its wings created storms with every movement. Not a single warrior proved worthy of defeating it.

The villagers kept hoping, but it became increasingly clear that no one could overcome the dragon. The hearts of the mothers and fathers grew heavy as they began to fear they might never see their children again.

One person, however, the simple carpenter Jack, quietly observed the events. Although he was not a warrior, and no one mentioned his name among the knights, Jack resolved that he would also do something.
While sitting in his workshop, he recalled a story his great-grandfather often told him by the fire when he was a child. His great-grandfather spoke of a special fallen tree. This tree was once a mighty and strong oak, but during a terrible storm, a lightning bolt struck it, tearing it from its roots and bringing it crashing down to the forest floor. Although its trunk was shattered and everyone thought it had perished, the tree somehow remained alive for an unexplained reason.

New shoots grew from it, as if the power of the earth itself sustained it. According to legends, this tree had a unique connection to nature, and its branches held extraordinary power. One story told of a woodcutter who crafted a musical instrument from one of these branches, an instrument said to possess magical properties. Unfortunately, Jack could not remember the details, but he became increasingly absorbed in his memories. Could this tree still exist? And if it did, could it help him defeat the dragon?

The next morning, Jack began searching through the old belongings he had inherited from his great-grandfather. In a dusty chest, he found various yellowed papers. Among them was a hand-drawn map leading deep into the forest, to a clearing where the fallen tree stood. The map included a note written by his great-grandfather:

“The branches fall only during a full moon!”

Jack realized that the next full moon was fast approaching. Without hesitation, he decided to seek out the tree.

Under the moonlight of the evening, Jack set off into the forest, holding the map tightly in his hand. The forest was silent, and the shadows of the trees cast eerie shapes across the path. The map led him deeper and deeper into the woods until he finally reached a clearing. In the center of the clearing lay the fallen tree. Its massive trunk rested on the ground, but from it sprouted vibrant green shoots, as though time had no effect on it. The new branches glowed faintly in the moonlight.

As the clock struck midnight, the tree began to tremble slightly. A soft cracking sound echoed, and a single branch fell to the ground. Jack carefully picked it up. The branch was light, yet solid, and its material felt strangely strong and unusual.

He carried the branch back to his workshop and began working on it. With great care and precision, he started carving it, paying attention to every movement. He crafted a flute from it—a musical instrument unmatched in beauty and refinement. When it was finished, and he played it for the first time, the flute’s sound was extraordinary. It seemed to bring the forest itself to life. The rustling of the wind, the babbling of a brook, and an inexplicable melody blended together, a sound that words could not describe.

Jack felt that this flute held immense significance. He trusted that with this instrument, he could confront the dragon and rescue the children.

The next morning, at dawn, Jack set out with the magical flute in hand. He knew the dragon’s cave lay deep in the heart of the forest, where the canopy was so thick that sunlight could not penetrate, a place the villagers dared not venture. He packed a simple bag in his workshop, filling it with water, some bread, and the map. Holding the flute close, he began his journey.

As Jack ventured deeper into the forest, the familiar sounds of birdsong were replaced by strange, distant noises: creaks, faint whispers, as if they came from the ground itself. Every so often, the sulfurous scent of the dragon’s breath wafted through the thick trees, making it clear that he was getting closer.

Eventually, Jack reached the darkest part of the forest. Before him rose a massive cliff, at the base of which loomed a giant, arched cave entrance. Hot air blew out from the cave, carrying with it the unmistakable smell of sulfur. The ground around the entrance was scarred by massive claw marks, and here and there, charred tree trunks lay scattered like forgotten relics.

Jack stepped cautiously into the darkness of the cave. As he moved further inside, the space gradually widened until he found himself in a vast cavern. At its center lay the dragon, its scales glimmering in the flickering firelight of the cave as if made of metal and gemstones.

The dragon lay motionless, but Jack could feel its gaze upon him. One of the dragon’s eyes opened slightly, and its piercing stare locked onto the boy.

– What are you doing here, mortal?! – the dragon growled, its deep, hoarse voice echoing throughout the cavern.

Jack said nothing. He gripped the flute tightly and, with trembling hands, brought it to his lips. He knew there was no turning back.

Jack played the flute, and the music was not only beautiful but also carried a strange, powerful energy, as if it breathed life into the entire cave. The dragon grew enraged, spread its massive wings, and filled the cavern with a deep, thunderous roar. Yet the music did not stop. As the melody continued, the dragon’s movements slowed. Eventually, the great creature collapsed onto the cave floor, its eyes slowly closing. The music had lulled it to sleep.

Jack cautiously ventured deeper into the cave. The air was thick with the heavy stench of sulfur, but he paid it no mind—his only focus was finding the children.

He didn’t have to search for long. Deep within the cave stood a massive iron cage, and inside were the village children, huddled together. Fear was etched across their faces, and some watched anxiously from behind the bars, trying to see what was happening.

When they spotted Jack, their expressions brightened with relief and joy.

He stepped closer and whispered softly, “I’m here to take you home!”

The cage was secured with a large lock. Jack glanced around and spotted a rusty key resting on a stone near the cage. It seemed the dragon had simply left it there.

Jack picked up the key and paused for a moment to glance back, ensuring the dragon was still asleep. He then inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The lock clicked open with a faint sound.

– Quickly, come out! – he whispered to the children as he pulled the cage door open. One by one, the children climbed out, trembling but unharmed.

Jack motioned for them to follow him. – Stay quiet and stay close behind me! – he said in a soft but firm tone. The children formed a line behind him as they made their way toward the cave’s entrance, every step accompanied by nervous glances at the sleeping dragon.

At last, they reached the mouth of the cave. Jack turned to the children and said, – Now, I’ll take you back to the village! – He led them along the forest paths, heading home with the rescued children safely in tow.

When Jack returned to the village with the children, the parents greeted them with joy and tears. Mothers hugged their children tightly, and the entire village cheered.

– Jack, you saved our children! – they exclaimed, surrounding him.

An impromptu celebration began in the village square, where everyone expressed their gratitude to the humble carpenter.

Soon, a messenger from the king arrived and presented Jack with a large sack of gold.
– This is the king’s reward for your bravery and for rescuing the children.

Jack accepted the reward and turned to the villagers.
– I give this gold to you so the children will have food to eat, clothes to wear, and never have to suffer again.

The gold was distributed among the parents, and the village was once again filled with laughter. Jack returned to his workshop to continue crafting toys and furniture, just as he always had. He did not seek fame or glory.

However, the people never forgot what he had done for them. Jack’s story was passed down from generation to generation, and the village would forever remember the carpenter who saved their children.