Dragon vomit had always fascinated Flynn.

  It looked like glittery slime, streaked with golden strands of molten iron that seared the surrounding air as they were gagged into existence.

  The rare substance sizzled as it dripped onto the marble mosaic, soon forming a divot in the spotless floor. All the while, Oscar’s retching echoed through the reception hall, bouncing off the tall ceiling and smooth walls.

  It was the first building he’d ever fit in as a young adult dragon.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mira commiserated as she patted Oscar’s thigh. “Teleportation is still the only way to enter the Mythical Ward, but it can be quite tough on a sensitive stomach.”

  Her curly black hair wrapped around her head in complete chaos, and the pink glasses she wore did little for her general appearance. Her slender fingers were home to a collection of ornate rings of various colors, clashing violently with the plaid cardigan she was wearing.

  Oscar’s body stiffened as he sent another burst of golden ooze flying.

  “Why not install a lift?” Flynn offered — not because he thought it was a good idea, but simply to say something.

  “Oh,” Mira chuckled and briefly glanced at him. “That wouldn’t work with the levitation spell, you see?”

  He didn’t.

  “The moment we connect the building to the surface, it would need structural support.”

  “As is normal for buildings,” Flynn muttered, but he didn’t press the issue.

  Mira flashed an apologetic smile.

  “The founders of the Mythical Ward also liked the idea of only entering and leaving the building via teleportation. It gave them more control, so that patients couldn’t abandon the program before they were ready.”

  Flynn cocked an eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry,” Mira added hastily. “We’ve gotten a lot more forward-thinking since then. Nowadays, patients can leave whenever they want. Especially the ones that can fly.”

  She laughed sharply and gestured at Oscar, whose throat seemed to cramp again in preparation for the next volley of vomit.

  Flynn bit his lip and nodded stiffly.

  “Right.”

  He noticed a dark cat watching them from across the room, its furry ears protruding from behind a rutted pillar. Intelligent green eyes scurried from Oscar to Flynn and back, taking in the newcomers with an expression of quiet judgment.

  “Hush,” Flynn mouthed, and waved dismissively.

  The cat hissed and exposed teeth that shouldn’t have fit inside its small mouth.

  Flynn startled and bumped into Mira, who was quick to notice the reason for his unease.

  “Oh,” she chuckled. “That’s Dora, one of our patients.”

  “I thought you only treated mythical creatures and not … cats.”

  Mira’s shrill laugh rang in his ear. “You’re too funny,” she said with a wave of her hand.

  “Am I?”

  “Dora is not a cat. She is a Werehuman.”

  “A what now?”

  Flynn stared at the cat, which was now casually licking its paws, still giving him a side-eye.

  “A Werehuman,” Mira repeated, like it was the most normal thing ever. “She turns into a human during a full moon.”

  Flynn snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

  The cat snarled and flashed long claws on its small paws.

  “I beg your pardon?” Mira asked in surprise, pink glasses shifting on her nose.

  “That thing is going to turn into a human?”

  Mira followed his pointing finger.

  “I would kindly ask you not to address our patients as things. Also, they don’t like to be scrutinized, so if you could lower that finger of yours.”

  She cracked a polite smile and nodded at Flynn’s outstretched arm.

  He sighed and dropped it.

  “If she’s the opposite of a Werewolf—”

  “We don’t use the word opposite. It’s got a very negative connotation.”

  He bit his lip, then tried again.

  “If she’s like a reverse Werewolf, how come she’s a cat and not a wolf. Or a dog, for that matter.”

  Mira shot Dora a sad smile.

  “That kind of mindset from other people is precisely what got the poor girl here. She feels rather insecure about the fact that her animal form is a cat.”

  “Doesn’t look insecure to me,” Flynn muttered under his breath.

  He was in the process of entering a staring contest with the cat when Oscar’s rumbling baritone filled the air.

  “Nice to meet you, Dora,” the dragon said and tried to smile, vomit still dripping from the corners of his mouth.

  The cat meowed in acknowledgement, then swiftly disappeared behind the marble columns.

  “Talk about first impressions,” Flynn quipped, and Oscar blushed.

  “I think she liked you,” Mira said cheerfully, and gave the dragon a last pat on the thigh before returning to her reception counter.

  “Right, let’s get started.”

  Filling out the paperwork took about an hour.

  During that time, Oscar was asked to disclose personal information like height, weight, and a few other dragon-related characteristics. According to Mira, most of the patients were treated for similar reasons as the blue dragon, and many of them had had unfortunate accidents that acted as the catalyst to join the road of healing, as she called it. There were others, of course, who’d been more accountable for the havoc they wreaked on the world, and they were kept in a special section — all of them perfectly nice and harmless now, as Mira pointed out. Still, a couple of meters of steel and magic separated their quarters from the other patients, and their doctors had to remain out of claws’ reach at all times.

  “A silly precaution, of course,” Mira chuckled as she continued her introduction.

  “Of course,” Flynn murmured, feeling a tingle of unease.

  “Are there other dragons here?” Oscar asked awkwardly.

  “Oh, yes, a couple, actually,” Mira chimed. “Though some of them have proven to be rather difficult cases.”

  The dragon frowned, or tried to.

  Mira offered him an encouraging smile. “Aw, I can tell you are nothing like those guys! And I’m sure you will make plenty of friends here.”

  Oscar seemed relieved.

  “I would like that,” he rumbled softly.

  Mira put down her pen and clapped her hands.

  “If it’s alright with you, I will now take you on a little tour and show you to your room.”

  The dragon puffed at the prospect of having an actual room to stay in.

  “Uhm, excuse me,” Flynn interjected. “What about me?”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Mira studied him for a moment, then smiled.

  “I’m glad you are open for treatment. I wasn’t going to say anything, but you could definitely benefit from—”

  “Not as a patient,” Flynn growled. “As a companion.”

  The receptionist frowned.

  “I see,” she said slowly. “Well, that would be rather unusual. Most of our patients don’t have their parents or partners—”

  “Companion!”

  “Right. Most of them don’t have companions stay with them,” Mira finished her sentence. “It’s against the guidelines, you see?”

  “Why is that?”

  Mira’s brown eyes rested on each of them for a few seconds.

  “Well, it can be detrimental to the healing process.”

  “You make it sound like he is ill.”

  Mira smiled politely. “I’m not sure if you would have the mindset required to support this scaly gentleman on his emotional journey.”

  Oscar chortled at the compliment.

  “I have whatever is necessary to support him.”

  Mira raised her eyebrows and looked down at the stack of documents on her desk.

  “If both of you agree that this is a good idea,” she said with a surprisingly snide voice, “it can be arranged. We can put an extra bed in Mr Scar’s room.”

  The dragon flinched at the mention of this birth name.

  “We would appreciate that,” he said, inclining his large head.

  Flynn nodded approvingly. Oscar had not been on his own in forever, and he didn’t think now was a good time to abandon his reptilian friend. Besides, he didn’t come all this way just to turn back now.

  Mira clicked her tongue.

  “If you’re sure,” she said pointedly.

  Oscar shot Flynn a glance of relief.

  The receptionist pulled out another piece of paper and turned to Flynn.

  “Your name?”

  He realized they hadn’t properly introduced themselves.

  “Flynn.”

  “Flynn …?”

  “Just Flynn.”

  “Do you have insurance?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Mira gave him a skeptical look. “Health insurance. I’m afraid our institute is quite prestigious, and therefore not cheap. Especially, if you’re not here on a referral.”

  “We didn’t know we had to pay,” Oscar said nervously.

  Mira’s voice softened as she addressed the dragon. “Oh, you are fine, Mr Scar. All your expenses are covered.”

  “Wait, what?” Flynn scoffed in disbelief.

  “All dragons have health insurance provided by the government as part of the last peace treaty between the kingdoms of men and the dragon lords.”

  Flynn snorted. “That’s a joke, right?”

  “No, quite the opposite,” Mira said stiffly. “It’s a blessing. Even dragons with large hoards couldn’t possibly afford to pay for the kind of space they need in an establishment like this one.”

  Fortunately, the dragon didn’t seem to notice the mention of hoards. It was always a touchy subject, now that he’d reached that age.

  “Please,” the dragon said instead, “there must be a way. I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

  He let out a low rumble as if to emphasize his point. A hint of fuchsia took hold of the scales on his neck.

  Mira seemed to have taken a liking to Oscar, and so she looked at him with what could’ve passed as maternal compassion.

  “Well, if it’s that important to you, we’ll just say it’s part of your treatment. After all, we want to start off on the right foot, don’t we?”

  Then, she turned to Flynn, and her features grew more serious.

  “I hope you won’t make us regret this generosity. If you interfere with Mr Scar’s treatment, we’ll have no choice but to end your stay with us.”

  Flynn forced himself to nod.

  He already didn’t like this place.

  Oscar’s talons clicked on the smooth floor as they followed a vast concourse past massive portal doors and ostentatious balconies. Fluted pillars the size of bell towers flanked them on either side, covered in gold decorations from top to bottom. The air was fresh and smelled of lavender, and a gentle orange light emanated from the many glass chandeliers. They saw plenty of other patients in passing, some with their coaches, others in pairs or groups with their fellows. All of them seemed friendly, their horns, fangs, and claws relaxed, and with no malice in their slitted, dotted, round, or oval eyes.

  Still, Oscar tried to hide behind Flynn for most of the tour, which proved to be a futile effort.

  “The therapy rooms are spread out through the entire complex,” Mira said as they strode down the large corridor, gesturing at a few of the monumental doors. “Patients are typically grouped based on species and type of condition.”

  Flynn frowned. “Grouped by species? That seems a bit backwards.”

  Mira smiled over her shoulder. “It’s not what you think. We try to mix smaller patients with larger ones to use our space effectively. Imagine a therapy group of only dragons — not even the Mythical Ward has a room of that size.” She chuckled briefly before continuing. “We also found it to be a stimulating experience to face one's problems with members of other species. Oftentimes, they are also more open-minded to species-related problems. Take Dora, for example. She couldn’t possibly make any progress with her anxiety if she were in a group with other Werehumans.”

  The dragon nodded. “That makes a lot of sense.”

  Even Flynn had to agree. Should they ever touch on the subject of hoards, it would sure be beneficial not to have any other judgmental dragons in the group.

  A griffin trudged past Oscar and clicked its beak, making the dragon flinch.

  “Apollo!” Mira rebuked and lifted a finger.

  The griffin’s eyes blinked lazily before he staggered onwards, slightly lopsided.

  Mira fixed her smile and turned to Oscar and Flynn without stopping.

  “Apologies for that. Apollo is actually quite nice, but sometimes he falls into old habits. Alas, that’s why he is still with us.”

  “What’s his issue?” Flynn asked as his eyes tracked the feathery animal.

  “I’m sorry,” Mira said more quietly. “We don’t usually discuss the conditions of our patients.”

  Flynn raised an eyebrow. “But?”

  Mira’s face hardened momentarily. “No but. We don’t.”

  They followed along as the receptionist pointed out different facilities and noteworthy landmarks. The building was fascinating, but so were its inhabitants.

  Most of the medical staff wore yellow and white outfits.

  Most of them were human, but not all of them.

  The patients were the result of a mythical fever dream on psychedelic mushrooms — every combination of colors, claws, and curiosities seemed to frequent these halls. Flynn knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn’t help it. It was something he’d have to work on, lest he’d be eaten by some three-headed psychopath with wings.

  “Since you are officially part of our family now,” Mira said as they walked past a group of golems, “I will go ahead and call you Oscar, if that is alright with you.”

  “Please,” the dragon said courteously and puffed.

  Behind his mask of politeness lay an ocean of insecurity, slowly finding its way to the dragon’s scaly surface. Flynn had expected no less — new faces and places always caused Oscar’s anxiety to flare up like a bonfire. All things considered, the dragon was taking it well.

  At least, Flynn thought, he hadn’t laid waste to the building yet.

  A chuckle got stuck in his throat when he noticed Oscar’s thighs were trembling.

  “It’s okay, big guy,” he said as soothingly as he could.

  But Oscar barely noticed him. The dragon had stopped in front of a large window and was staring outside. A dark shade rushed past, then another one.

  “Oh,” Mira said in surprise when she noticed they weren’t following anymore.

  Tracing Oscar’s terrified gaze, she added, “Makes you jealous, doesn’t it?”

  Flynn finally understood what he was looking at. A group of dragons, griffins, wyrms, and … bird people? … were flying in front of the building, drawing circles in the air with their colorful bodies.

  “Nothing like fresh air in your lungs and under your wings, right?” Mira murmured dreamily.

  “That’s part of the program?” Flynn asked cautiously, watching the patients dash through the air.

  “Oh, of course!” Mira exclaimed. “A healthy spirit can only live inside a healthy body. Part of the healing process for most mental disorders is to strengthen the bond between mind and body. And what better way to achieve exactly that than to soar through the skies?”

  Oscar made a sound not befitting of a dragon.

  Their tour ended in front of a large portal door on one of the lower levels of the Mythical Ward.

  “This is where you’ll be staying,” Mira explained as she reached for the door handle. “You have one roommate for now — he’s been with us for quite some time.”

  “What’s he like?” Oscar asked nervously.

  Mira winked at him and, without answering his question, opened the door. She stepped inside and gestured for the newcomers to follow her.

  They did so hesitantly, but were pleasantly surprised when they emerged in a room of grandiose proportions, with large marble arches on all four sides. Tall windows along the back wall reached all the way from the floor to the decorated ceiling, casting streaks of golden light onto the polished floor.

  “I’m so happy to introduce you guys,” Mira fluted as she spun around. “Meet Rainbows!”

  She gestured towards the back of the large room, where a patch of heavy darkness defied the light of day. Somewhere in there, a black shroud stirred, and a pair of sorrowful eyes gazed at them.

  Flynn instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword. Oscar hastily took a step backwards, as if expecting some vicious creature to leap at him.

  Instead, hooves appeared at the edge of the dark corner, one after the other, until there were four of them.

  Oscar shrieked and started glowing red like molten glass.

  “A horse?!” he screamed in a pitch too high for a dragon.

  Flynn narrowed his eyes to match the superior vision of the dragon. Indeed, what stepped out of the shadows appeared to be a horse, but something wasn’t right. It wasn’t even the fact that the creature was the sorriest-looking animal he’d ever laid eyes on, or the way its head was almost dragging across the floor, but something about its face …

  “Rainbows, or Rain, as he prefers to be called, is a unicorn,” Mira explained cheerfully, oblivious to Oscar’s panic.

  And then Flynn saw it. What should’ve been a majestic horn on the unicorn’s forehead was nothing more than a flaccid cone, dragging across its flat nose and empty eyes whenever the unicorn tilted its head. Black, greasy hair ran down its neck like spilled ink, and its patchy gray skin was dotted with dark stains. Droopy ears and a slumped back gave the creature a pitiful appearance, making it look old and withered.

  “Rain?” Mira chimed, “These are your new roommates, Oscar and Flynn.”

  Rain gave each of them a brief, heart-wrenching glance.

  Without saying a word, the unicorn sighed a sigh that would’ve impressed a funeral director, then slowly turned around and shuffled back into the darkness.

  Against all odds, the receptionist seemed pleased.

  “I think you guys will get along great!”

  The vile combination of Mira’s juvenile smile, Oscar’s hyperventilating, and Rain’s mournful muttering was one for the ages.

  Flynn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry — so he chose sarcasm instead.

  “I know what you mean. This is the beginning of something truly special.”