The Last of the Last Dragon's Hoard
There is a dragon with the head of a dying star. The universe, too ancient for memory and too vast to care, had forgotten such a dragon existed until the very last moment. At the end of time, when things decided to matter again, the last witch and the last comet and the last hero and the last mail courier got together.
They had one thing to discuss: what was the dragon hoarding? It had been asleep for so long and no one could recall the riches it first stowed away.
The witch, who called herself The Matter Witch but no one else did, proposed it was the key. “It’s got to stop this entropy, right?”
The group had been putting off reversing entropy for several eons at that point. Everyone agreed it needed to be solved. The slow life-death of the universe was creating a universe of black holes and lightless expanse. The last planet had yelled shrilly for centuries about the problem. However, the problem was very difficult and the solution would involve perhaps a miracle.
The last witch and the last wizard had assumed miracles were the other ones purview at the end of time. The wizard spent so much time insisting the witch was all lightning and no thunder and the witch was still hurt about the divorce.
No one had solved entropy and even the wizard was gone now.
“Could be anything. Gold. Planets. Princesses,” the comet said in it’s very sad voice that was not really a voice.
The courier, who no one could figure out why she was there and what to do about it, insisted otherwise. “Sitting on time, maybe? A whole heap of time. Why else would it live so long?” she said in an accent no one could place but grated dearly.
“Do we really need more Time?” The hero grumbled who was so very very very tired of the only other beings left in existence. “Let's hope it’s something better than that.”
“I suppose we could wake it up and ask.” The witch looked out the dragon with the head of a dying star and slapped her wand against her open palm. “Does anyone remember if it was a nice dragon?”
The group gave a collective shrug.
The courier shrugged longest and hardest and raised her mail bag. “It would be nice to have stops again if it is sitting on planets or other stars.” She frowned. “Or princesses.”
“It could be something bad,” the hero reminded them. “Or just another black hole.”
The witch rubbed a hand over her bald head. “Is that it? It could be good or bad or damned useless? Herald was right. We’re never reversing the damn rot.”
The hero put his hands on his hips. “So, what are we going to do?”
The comet sighed longer and harder than anyone had up until that point–it might hold the record if entropy was about to take everything with it. “I miss my mother,” the comet said and sniffed.
“Mine too,” the courier said in a small voice. “And my route.”
The witch bowed her shiny head and frowned harder and longer than at least the courier. “I miss my husband.”
The hero looked down at his hands. “I miss the monsters.”
No one commented on the last sentiment even though it perpetuated the last known cases of "the heebie jeebies". Everyone knew you’d get stuck with at least one weirdo at the end of time.
“So we’re decided?” the witch asked and the troupe made up their minds to slay the dragon with the head of the dying star and hope it was hoarding something good.
The dragon, older than memory and somehow still tired, awoke before the final sword stroke of the hero. It narrowed its eyes, drew a deep powerful breath, and let out a roar of ice shards and burning molten. The hero struck back, hard and fast, and they nearly toppled sideways into the nearest black hole. Dragon’s, old and terrible as they might be, were made by a very loving god, and struck the hero back with a wicked claw. They clashed and tumbled together.
Then, the dragon looked out to find the universe empty and the planets gone and a tiny courier hiding behind the saddest-looking comet and it missed its mother. It fell backwards and disappeared with a terrible bang. The hero called to the others: "Look! I fixed entropy!"
The witch got in one last eye-roll.
Underneath the dragon, was the first thing and the last thing, and the only beings left in the universe let out cries of regret and sighs of relief. The dragon and the hero and the witch and the comet all tumbled in one by one as the universe broke open, as it always did.
Let there, it said in one voice, be light. Light spilled out and out and out.
The only problem was, of course, the courier was once more forgotten. No one ever could figure out why she was there and what to do about it, and the new baby universe was left in two tiny hands. It was much the same as the last one with the main difference was that the mail always arrived on time.
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