Everyone remembers where they were the day the dragons revealed themselves. It was the day the Wealth tax was finally passed. The richest among the population had fought hard and succeeded in delaying it for decades. But in Aotearoa, where the wealthiest 10% have 59% of the country’s assets, and the poorest half of the population have just 2%... there were only two ways things could go; Either wealth is forcibly redistributed, or the lower class dies out and the middle class becomes the lower class resulting in the death of the middle class and the economic gap becoming a chasm.

When the tax passed, the raging fire inside the 1% grew uncontainable. Huge scaly beasts burst forth through their human disguises and people saw them for what they were. The 1% were and had always been dragons in human form, hoarding wealth the way their ancestors hoarded gold and jewels.

They set fire to the Beehive, their flames melting the concrete as if it were Papier-mâché. The unlucky Wellingtonians ran screaming for the hills as molten metal from government buildings on the Terrace spread through the streets and down onto Lambton Quay.

The biggest and most vicious dragon was Greyheart. Twenty-five meters high and thirty meters long. He was the mottled grey of a concrete basement with black mould and had curved horns on either side of his head bigger than a small child. Noxious fumes poured from his mouth and nostrils when he wasn’t breathing fire and left a thick coating of soot on every surface they touched.

When the dragons came out of hiding, Greyheart wasn’t content with destroying the government that had dared try and take his hoard. He gave the people a choice; offer him their treasure or pay with their lives. People gave what they could, and the great and terrible Greyheart flew away with his prize to the Waiheke island where he settled, banishing all human residents.

Six years passed and Aotearoa was still adjusting to the new normal. Babies born just after the event were entering school, knowing nothing of a time before dragons. The military had been wholly unprepared to handle the threat and no aid came from other countries who were dealing with their own scaly infestation, so the military bases across the country were mostly refugee camps for people displaced by dragons. No one went near mountains anymore, for fear of nests. The only people brave (or foolish) enough to live near a mountain were the people of Taranaki, who were lucky the dragon who had taken up residence there was quite a lazy sort. 

But from the ashes of society rose a shining beacon of hope. A teenager from New Plymouth, aptly named Phoenix. While others her age were hanging around in the Brooklands Bowl with a six pack of raspberry cruisers, she studied the blade. One of her uncles who worked for Weta Workshop had built her a real sword for her 12th birthday, and she watched many a tutorial from cosplayers on Youtube on how to forge battle armour. She knew if she could defeat Greyheart then the other dragons would fall. 

So here she was, on a dock at Queens Wharf in Auckland, ready to make her journey to Waiheke island. She threw her bag into the small sailing vessel – best to have a small vessel so Greyheart would be less likely to see her approach – and climbed down the ladder. Her friend Destiny climbed down shortly after, having stubbornly refused to stay behind when she discovered Phoenix’s plan. 

“You don’t know how to sail Phoenix, how are you going to get over there?” It was a true enough statement, and a question for which Phoenix unfortunately had no answer. 

It took them a few hours to reach the island, which was only 45 minutes away by ferry, and they hid the boat in what looked to be a long-abandoned cove.

“Right, stay here and I’ll go and find Greyheart.” Phoenix instructed, picking up the large duffel bag of armour and slinging it over her shoulder. Destiny raised her eyebrow and stared at her for a moment, then scoffed.

“Nah, it takes you like a full half-hour to get your armour on by yourself, I’ve seen you. And if you drop something; crash, Greyheart hears you, comes over to see what’s going on, you’re still only in half armour, one barbecue Phoenix coming right up would you like teriyaki sauce with that?” Destiny grabbed the duffel bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder, handing Phoenix her sword instead.

Phoenix chose to ignore the snarky comment in favour of continuing their journey. They figured Greyheart would be at Stony Batter Historic Reserve, the highest point of the island. It was both the most defensible position and had the best view, and Greyheart would likely have used the Gun Pit to store his hoard. Unfortunately, that meant they could be seen coming a mile off, so their only option was to wait until nightfall, which was fine with Phoenix because the armour wasn’t meant for being worn for long stretches of time. 

Though she wouldn’t admit it, Phoenix was grateful for Destiny’s presence while they sat in the underbrush. She was understandably nervous about facing the most fearsome dragon in Aotearoa, but once she defeated him they would be able to inspire the masses to rise up, take down the other dragons, and redistribute the wealth fairly among the population.

The night was clear, and the stars were shining bright, so Phoenix had to stay low to the ground and under as much cover as she could as she made her way up the hill. When she was halfway up there was a deep rumbling which she almost mistook for thunder except for the lack of clouds. She dropped to a crouch and waited for it to subside, but when it came again a few moments later she realised with relief that Greyheart was asleep and snoring.

The higher she climbed, the thicker the ash on the ground became. All the wildlife had been destroyed; trees, flowers, anything growing from the earth had become coal and dust. The dragons cared not for the environment and the natural beauty of Aotearoa, they only cared for their wealth and how to gain more. 

Squinting slightly, Phoenix tried to figure out why it was suddenly so hard to see. When she looked up, she realised she was close. So close in fact, Greyheart’s smoke was creating a cloud above her so big it was blocking out the stars. 

As she rose above the crest of the hill her heart fell. A bloodshot green eye the size of a basketball was staring at her. Greyheart had been watching her this whole time, lying in wait on his massive pile of gold and jewels as she approached in her homemade scrap metal armour and plucky can-do attitude. She realised now the rumblings had not been snores, but rather Greyheart was laughing at her. 

Still, there was no turning back now. She climbed to her feet and straightened her back, refusing to show fear to the disgusting creature. 

“You have one chance Greyheart.” She called, gripping her sword tightly. “Change back to your human form, spread your wealth out to the people, and live among us in peace.”

The rumbling laugh came from deep in the dragon’s chest, causing small pebbles and rocks around Phoenix’s feet to jump and vibrate. The dragon’s head raised and turned so he was looking down at her over his snout, smoke pouring down to the earth and swirling around her boots. His scaly lip curled upwards into a sneer, revealing his yellowed fangs which still had meat and bone fragments stuck between them from his last meal.

“You have one chance, child.” The dragon’s voice shook her bones. “If you run back home and never return, I may let you keep your life.” 

Phoenix rolled her eyes. 

“Nah I don’t think so mate.” She rushed forward as he opened his mouth, fire bubbling up his throat. She raised her sword high… 

And dropped, sliding underneath the column of fire and dragging the sword across the underside of Greyheart’s throat. She slid so far, she went over the edge of the gun pit and into the pile of treasure. 

A great roar shook the earth. She scrambled up, watching as Greyheart spread his wings, trying to take off. But ink blue blood was pouring from the gash in his throat, and after a few feeble flaps he crashed to the ground, hissing and spitting as his fire was extinguished. 

He was trying to crawl even now, eyes fixed on his wealth like he could take it with him when he died if he could just touch it. Phoenix leapt forward and climbed out of the pit, striding over to the pathetic beast. 

“You had your chance.” 

She raised her sword once more over his neck.