The castle walls are thick, and the moat is wide. Brave and loyal soldiers protect the gates. Safe inside, two beautiful princesses look out from their towers.
Day and night, a bloated purple dragon circles; shrieking, lunging at the heavy stone blocks of the castle, gouging grooves with its sharp talons, belching fire and scorching the walls, billowing acrid smoke and leaving sooty smears behind.
The princesses tremble, afraid, and obey the queen’s command. “Stay away from the dragon, lest it devour you. Young, beautiful princesses are the dragon’s favourite food.”
Below, in their mysterious chambers, the wizards weave protective spells, and fling them at the dragon, attempting to dazzle and blind it with the spark and fizz of their magic.
In the streets, the peasants watch the dragon. Deep inside, they fear for the princesses, but the dragon has magic of its own, and has hypnotised the people. They cannot take their eyes away from its mesmerising dance. They follow each lunge and strike with hungry fascination, hearts beating, mouths drooling, in avid anticipation of its next attack.
The dragon rears up, magnificent. Power vibrates from its glossy hide. Smoke puffs from its enormous nostrils, floating, shimmering, weaving – enticing the peasants with magical, intangible visions, confusing them with mirages that dissipate before they can be touched.
The dragon is an evil creature, the peasants know it. They see through its illusions, but they cannot escape its powerful spell. They crave more. They feed the dragon, sustaining its vicious barrage against the castle.
The princesses are trapped inside, safe, but not free.
The dragon rages on, unaware that the princesses have power too, and the strength to defeat it.
Princess Catherine, serene and gracious, possesses the greatest power in all the land. She carries the shield of love. It surrounds her and shines with such strength that she can leave the castle and walk among the people without fear. Her smile, her kind words, and her gentle touch heal everyone she encounters.
The dragon roars and lunges, but the force of Catherine’s shield repels it. Scorching flames bounce off, harmless. The spell is broken, and the people are freed. The shield expands, protecting them, earning Catherine their loyalty and devotion.
The sword of truth belongs to Princess Meghan. The roar of the dragon terrifies her, and so she seeks the counsel of the wizards. Afterwards, she paces in her tower, pondering and puzzling over their advice. They are wizards, and their advice should be heeded, but it seems wrong. Their magic has not succeeded in fooling the dragon, or stopping its attacks.
Meghan’s sword glints in the moonlight, beckoning from its mount on the wall. She wants to pick it up, but the wizards have warned against it. She hesitates.
But Meghan cannot stay hidden in the tower forever. Her spirit longs to be free. She aches for her voice to be heard. She has much to do outside the castle. She picks up the sword. Courage courses through her, and a bright, burning light bursts from the steel.
Outside the castle gate, Princess Meghan raises her sword and faces the dragon. White rays shine from the blade and pierce through the thick barrier of smoke belching from the dragon’s flared nostrils.
“Look at me, Dragon,” Meghan shouts, holding her head high. “You have no power over me! I will live my truth. Get out of my way!”
The dragon roars and claws at the earth. Eyeing the sword, it stands its ground. Meghan points the sword, and a laser blast shoots from the tip, straight into the dragon’s eyes. Shuddering, it pulls back and bows its head, allowing the princess to pass.
The dragon follows Meghan, snorting and grumbling. Smoke puffs from its nostrils, but it cannot dim the sword’s light.
The people stand by the roadside, cheering, as Meghan walks by, their faces glowing beneath the sword’s rays. And the children, who have learned to be brave, follow along the path.