Cadence

The thunderous roar of Elder Pyraxis echoed through the abandoned Westfield Shopping Center, rattling the vinyl records that lined what used to be the old Macy's. Cadence pressed her iridescent purple scales against the crumbling wall, her heart hammering as the ancient dragon's words reverberated through the sanctuary. "Seven days!" Pyraxis bellowed, his golden eyes blazing with contempt as he surveyed the thousands of albums, CDs, and sheet music that filled every corner of their home. "Seven days to burn this worthless human noise and return to our proper ways. We are dragons! We should be hoarding gold, not these ridiculous plastic discs!" Cadence's claws dug into the tile floor. Around her, dozens of younger dragons hung their heads in shame, but she felt something entirely different bubbling up inside her chest—a wild, rebellious excitement that made her scales shimmer with anticipation. "This is it, Harmony," she whispered to the small, pearl-white dragon perched on her shoulder. "This is our chance." Harmony's melodic voice chimed softly in her ear. "Are you sure about this, Cadence? You know what happened to the last dragon who defied the Elder Council." But Cadence was already moving, her powerful wings carrying her up to the second floor of the old Barnes & Noble, where she kept her most prized collection. Her perfect pitch had helped her identify countless rare recordings over the years, and her encyclopedic knowledge of music history had made her the unofficial curator of the sanctuary's entire collection. While other dragons her age spent their time polishing traditional hoards of coins and jewels, Cadence had been mapping every single record in the sanctuary, memorizing liner notes, and teaching herself to perform songs that hadn't been heard since before the world crumbled. She knew about the vault beneath Spencer's. Every dragon did. It was legend—three songs, performed perfectly from memory, would unlock the world's rarest recordings. But in three centuries, no dragon had ever managed to open it. "The Council meets tomorrow," Cadence murmured, running her claws along the spine of a mint-condition pressing of Miles Davis's "Kind of Blue." "I need to convince them that I can open the vault. That these recordings are worth more than any treasure they've ever seen." The next morning, the food court amphitheater was packed. Dragons of every size and color filled the old restaurant spaces, their scales creating a rainbow of nervous energy as Elder Pyraxis and the six other Council members took their places on the raised platform where the Sbarro used to be. Cadence strode into the center of the space, Harmony riding proudly on her shoulder. The whispers died away as every eye in the sanctuary focused on the young purple dragon who dared to challenge tradition. "Elder Pyraxis," Cadence began, her voice carrying clearly through the space. "I respectfully request that you delay the destruction of our musical collection." The Elder's laugh was like grinding stone. "And why, youngling, would we do such a foolish thing?" "Because I can prove that these artifacts are more valuable than gold." Cadence spread her wings wide, gesturing to the thousands of albums visible through the old storefronts. "I can open the vault." A collective gasp rippled through the assembled dragons. Elder Pyraxis leaned forward, his ancient face creasing into a skeptical frown. "The vault has remained sealed for three hundred years. Dozens of dragons have tried and failed. What makes you think—" "Because I know the three songs." Cadence's declaration silenced the entire amphitheater. "I've spent years studying the clues left in the collection. The scratches on certain album covers, the way some records were positioned, the sheet music that was deliberately left scattered near the entrance. They're a map, Elder. A musical map." Elder Pyraxis was quiet for a long moment, his golden eyes studying Cadence with new interest. Finally, he spoke. "You have until sunset today. If you fail, the burning begins immediately. If you succeed..." He paused, as if the words pained him. "If you succeed, we will reconsider." The procession to Spencer's felt like a funeral march. Every dragon in the sanctuary followed Cadence and Harmony down the old corridors, past the shuttered GameStop and the overgrown pretzel stand, to the small store that had once sold novelty t-shirts and glow-in-the-dark posters. The vault door stood in what used to be the back storage room, a massive circular portal made of some metal that seemed to absorb light. Ancient draconic runes spiraled around its edge, and in the center sat three empty spaces—waiting for the right songs to fill them. Cadence took a deep breath, feeling the weight of centuries pressing down on her shoulders. She had studied every clue, cross-referenced every hint. The first song had to be "The Last Dance" by Elena Vasquez, a jazz singer who had recorded it just days before the world ended. The second was "Digital Dreams," an electronic symphony that existed in only one known recording. The third... The third had taken her months to figure out. It wasn't a famous song at all. It was "Sanctuary," a lullaby written by Dr. Sarah Chen, the human musicologist who had first convinced the dragons to preserve humanity's musical heritage instead of destroying it along with everything else. "Ready?" Harmony whispered, her own perfect pitch harmonizing with Cadence's breathing. Cadence nodded and began to sing. "The Last Dance" poured out of her in Elena's original key, every note pure and true. The first rune began to glow, and one of the empty spaces filled with golden light. The assembled dragons murmured in amazement. "Digital Dreams" was harder—a complex piece that required her to mimic synthesizers and electronic beats with only her voice. But Cadence had practiced for months, and with Harmony providing the underlying rhythm, she nailed every impossible transition. The second rune flared to life. Now came the real test. "Sanctuary" wasn't just a song—it was the reason their world existed. As Cadence began the gentle lullaby, her voice carrying all the love and loss of a species trying to preserve the best of what came before, something magical happened. Every dragon in the room began to hum along. They knew this song. Somehow, impossibly, they all knew it. Their voices joined together in perfect harmony, creating something more beautiful than any individual performance could ever be. The third rune blazed like a star, and with a sound like distant thunder, the vault door swung open. What lay beyond took everyone's breath away. The vault wasn't just a storage room—it was a vast underground cavern filled with more music than Cadence had ever imagined. Towering shelves held recordings in formats she didn't even recognize, and in the center of it all stood a single podium holding an open book. Cadence approached it with reverent steps, Harmony perched silently on her shoulder. The book was a journal, and as she read the first page, her world turned upside down. "Property of Dr. Sarah Chen, First Curator of the Dragon Sanctuary. If you are reading this, then my plan has worked, and music has found its true guardians at last." Cadence's claws trembled as she turned the pages, revealing the truth that no dragon had ever suspected. Dr. Chen hadn't just convinced the dragons to preserve music—she had planned it all. The collapse of civilization hadn't been an accident. It had been a controlled demolition, orchestrated by a secret society of musicians and scholars who realized that humanity was on the verge of losing its musical soul to mass production and corporate greed. "The dragons," Chen had written in her careful handwriting, "are the only creatures on Earth with the perfect memory and eternal lifespan needed to preserve our heritage. But they would never accept this responsibility as a gift from humans. It had to become their own choice, their own rebellion against their traditional ways." Cadence read on, her excitement growing with each revelation. Chen had spent decades planting clues throughout the collection, knowing that eventually a young dragon would come along with the curiosity and passion needed to solve the puzzle. The vault wasn't just a treasure room—it was a test to identify the next Curator. "Harmony," Cadence whispered, her voice filled with awe. "Do you understand what this means? We're not just rebels fighting tradition. We're part of something bigger. We're the guardians of humanity's soul." But when she looked around for her friend, Harmony was gone. In her place stood a shimmering figure that slowly resolved into the shape of a middle-aged human woman with kind eyes and silver hair. "Hello, Cadence," the woman said, her voice carrying the same melodic quality that Harmony's had always possessed. "My name is Dr. Sarah Chen, and I've been waiting a very long time to meet you." Cadence staggered backward, her mind reeling. "But... but you're human. Humans can't survive in the sanctuary. And Harmony... Harmony's been my friend for years..." "I'm not exactly human anymore," Dr. Chen explained gently. "When I realized what had to be done to save our musical heritage, I underwent a transformation that would let me guide the dragons from within their own community. I've been watching over the sanctuary for three centuries, waiting for a dragon like you—one who understood that true treasure isn't gold or jewels, but the songs that connect us all." The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the vault. Elder Pyraxis appeared in the doorway, his ancient face displaying an expression Cadence had never seen before—wonder. "The Curator returns," he said softly, and to Cadence's amazement, the mighty Elder bowed his head respectfully to Dr. Chen. "We have kept your collection safe, as promised." "You knew?" Cadence gasped. "All this time, you knew?" Pyraxis's golden eyes twinkled with something that might have been amusement. "Did you really think we would guard a collection of 'worthless human noise' for three hundred years without good reason? The threat of destruction was necessary, youngling. Every Curator must be chosen through trial, not appointment. You had to want to save the music more than anything else in the world." Dr. Chen stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Cadence's wing. "The question now, my dear dragon, is whether you're ready to accept the responsibility. As Curator, you would be the guardian of not just these recordings, but the living spirit of music itself. You would teach other dragons, guide new discoveries, and ensure that no song is ever truly lost." Cadence looked around the vast vault, her perfect pitch picking up the subtle harmonies created by the acoustics of the space. She thought about the thousands of dragons above who had joined their voices to help her open the door, and she realized that Dr. Chen's plan had worked even better than intended. Music hadn't just found guardians among the dragons—it had transformed them into something greater than they had ever been as simple treasure hoarders. "I accept," she said, her young voice carrying the weight of destiny. "But I want to make some changes. No more secrets. Every dragon in the sanctuary should know the truth about our mission. And I want to start teaching them to perform the music, not just preserve it. What good are the world's greatest songs if no one ever sings them?" Dr. Chen smiled, and for a moment, she flickered back into the familiar form of Harmony. "I had hoped you would say that. After all, the best curators are always rebels at heart." As they emerged from the vault, Cadence found herself facing hundreds of dragons, all waiting to hear their fate. Elder Pyraxis stepped forward, his voice carrying clearly through the old Spencer's store. "Dragons of the sanctuary," he announced, "I present to you Cadence, Second Curator of our collection, and guardian of humanity's musical soul." The cheer that went up could probably be heard in the old RadioShack three stores down. But as the dragons celebrated and began planning their first true musical festival in centuries, Cadence caught sight of Dr. Chen slipping away into the crowd, already fading back into her Harmony disguise. Some traditions, Cadence realized, were worth keeping after all. That night, as the dragons gathered in the food court amphitheater for their usual evening concert, something had changed. Instead of just sharing rare recordings, they began to sing—their voices joining together in perfect harmony as they performed the songs they had spent so long protecting. And in the center of it all, a young purple dragon with perfect pitch conducted the greatest dragon choir in history, her pearl-white companion perched proudly on her shoulder, both of them guardians of something far more precious than gold: the eternal, rebellious, transformative power of music itself. The sanctuary had found its voice at last.