Dragon’s Blood and Witch’s Tooth E-Book

Dominik Mikulaschek

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

Dragon’s Blood and Witch’s Tooth – The Great Magic Festival is a magical children’s fantasy adventure filled with dragons, witches, friendship, courage, mystery and unforgettable festival magic. This enchanting story takes young readers into a warm and imaginative fantasy world where glowing lanterns shine through the night, magical creatures gather to celebrate, and one ordinary girl discovers that bravery can change everything. When Mila receives a mysterious invitation with a golden border, her life changes in an instant. She is asked to become the hostess of the greatest magic festival in a hundred years. Suddenly, she finds herself at the center of an extraordinary celebration with guests unlike any she has ever known: gnomes carrying glowing lanterns, mermaids from the stream, the Sandman, magical winds, enchanted cakes, living garlands and many more wondrous beings. At her side are the gentle dragon Dragon’s Blood and the chaotic but lovable witch Witch’s Tooth, who help her prepare for a night that promises wonder, excitement and surprises at every turn. But magical festivals are never simple. The garlands tangle themselves, the cake tries to run away, the music hides in a teacup, and the carefully planned celebration begins to slip into delightful chaos. Then something even more important happens: a mysterious guest is missing. While the festival glows under the moonlight, Mila must leave the safety of the celebration behind and venture alone into the dark night. There she discovers that true courage does not mean never being afraid. It means taking the next step anyway, trusting your heart and staying kind even when the world feels uncertain. This beautifully imagined children’s book is much more than a fantasy adventure. It is also a touching story about friendship, trust, tolerance, self-belief and the quiet strength that can be found in even the most ordinary child. Mila is a heroine young readers can relate to immediately, and the magical world around her is full of charm, wonder and emotional warmth. With its blend of fairy-tale atmosphere, lovable magical characters and meaningful themes, this book invites children to believe in themselves and to see that kindness and courage can light up even the darkest path. Perfect for children who love fantasy books, dragon stories, witch adventures, magical festivals, fairy-tale worlds, bedtime stories, friendship stories and heartwarming adventures, Dragon’s Blood and Witch’s Tooth – The Great Magic Festival is an ideal read for young dreamers who enjoy enchanting tales full of wonder, humor and heart. Whether shared as a read-aloud story or enjoyed independently, this children’s fantasy book offers a magical reading experience that will stay in the imagination long after the last page.

Leseprobe

Dominik Mikulaschek, born in Linz in 1983, is known for his sensitive stories about friendship and courage. In his children’s book *Dragon’s Blood and Witch’s Tooth – The Great Magic Festival*, he once again transports young readers to an enchanting world full of magic and warmth. With a keen sense of children’s fears and hopes, he tells the story of a girl named Mila, who one morning receives a mysterious invitation with a golden border. She is appointed hostess of a magical festival, attended by the most unusual creatures: gnomes with glowing lanterns, mermaids from the stream, the Sandman who sprinkles dreams, and many others. Together with the chaotic witch Hexenzahn and the gentle dragon woman Drachenblut, Mila prepares for the party, but soon the magic spirals out of control. Garlands tie themselves into knots, the cake runs away, and an important guest remains missing. Mila must summon all her courage, set out alone into the dark night and uncover the secret behind the invisible visitor. His book is an enchanting plea for tolerance, courage and the power of friendship, showing how even the loneliest heart can find new courage through trust and warmth.

Dominik Mikulaschek

Dragon’s Blood and Witch’s Tooth – The Great Magic Festival

Volume 10

tredition GmbH

© 2026 Dominik Mikulaschek

Printed and distributed on behalf of the author by:

tredition GmbH, Heinz-Beusen-Stieg 5, 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany

This work, including its parts, is protected by copyright. The author is responsible for the content. Any use without his consent is prohibited. Publication and distribution are carried out on behalf of the author, who can be contacted at: Dominik Mikulaschek, Holzwurmweg 5, 4040 Linz, Austria.

Contact address in accordance with the EU Product Safety Regulation: [email protected]

Chapter 1 – Invitation with gold border

Once upon a time, there was a small village nestled between two hills, whose name had become so obscure that most people had long since forgotten it; but to those who lived there, it was simply ‘the village’, and that was quite enough. In this village, in a house with a crooked chimney and shutters that looked as though someone had forgotten to hang them straight, lived a girl called Mila. Mila had straw-blonde hair that always looked as though she’d just been running against the wind, and freckles that multiplied in summer as if they were meeting in secret. She wasn’t particularly tall and wasn’t particularly short, but she had a way of looking at things as if she were waiting for them to start dancing. That morning was no different. She sat at the kitchen table, her knees tucked up to her chin, staring at a letter lying in front of her as if it had fallen from the moon. The sun was just creeping over the windowsill, painting a golden streak across the old wood, but Mila saw only the envelope. It was thick and heavy, not made of that thin paper used for bills or sad news. No, this paper felt like fabric, like something you could wear, and the edge glowed with a gold that wasn’t painted on but was really there, thin and real, as if someone had wrapped liquid sunlight around it. Her mother was already at work, her father was fetching wood, and the cat, which was actually black but always looked grey because it rolled around in the dust, was lying on the windowsill, blinking lazily. Mila didn’t move. The letter was addressed to her, in ink as black as a starless night, and the letters danced a little, as if the writer had had a shaky hand or as if they’d written themselves. She turned it over. No sender. Just her name: Mila. And then, very small, in the corner, a symbol that looked like a dragon holding its own tail, or perhaps it was a snake; she wasn’t sure. Her heart pounded against her ribs as if it too wanted to read. She took the letter, opened it with the care one would use to wake a sleeping animal, and pulled out a sheet of paper. It wasn’t white, but ivory-coloured, and when she touched it, it felt warm, almost alive. Written on it, in exactly the same dancing letters, were the words: “Mila, you are invited. Come alone. Come today. Come when the sun is at its highest, to the old hill behind the mill. We are celebrating. And you may be the hostess.” There was no name underneath, just that dragon-snake thing again, and then a second sheet fell out, smaller, with a list: “Garlands, cake, music, fireworks, guests.” Mila blinked. The list moved, the words swapping places as if trying to sort themselves out, and then it read: “Everything must be ready. But nothing will be as you think.”" She read it three times, then five times, then she shoved the letter back into the envelope, as quickly as if it had bitten her. The cat on the windowsill made a sound that sounded like laughter, but cats can’t laugh, thought Mila, or can they? She stood up so suddenly that the chair behind her tipped over, and ran outside, the letter in her hand. The air was fresh after the cold morning and smelled of grass and a bit of cow, because the farmer next door was mucking out. Mila ran across the meadow, past the chickens, which scattered in fright, and only stopped when she reached the stream that babbled behind the village. She sat down in the grass, which was still wet with dew, and pulled the letter out again. Perhaps it had been a dream? But the edges of the envelope had become damp, and the gold still shone, untouched. She sniffed it. It smelled of vanilla and a hint of smoke, like a campfire where they’d made bread on a stick. Her stomach growled, but she didn’t care. She had to go to that hill. She had to know who’d written it. And then, very quietly, she whispered into the air: “Hostess? Me?” The air didn’t answer, but the stream splashed a little louder, and Mila nodded as if she’d received an answer. She spent the morning hiding. Not from anyone, but from time, which wasn’t passing quickly enough for her, and from the thoughts doing somersaults in her head. She helped her mother hang out the washing , but the pegs slipped from her hand because her fingers were trembling. She fed the chickens, but spilled the grain next to the bowl, and the chickens pecked it up anyway; chickens aren’t fussy. She tried to read, but the letters in her book wouldn’t form words; they all looked like the dancing letters on the invitation. When the sun finally climbed higher and the house’s shadow grew shorter, she could no longer sit still. She told her mother she was going to Lina’s to play, but that was only half a lie, for perhaps, she thought, this was a game? A very strange game? She set off, running up the path to the old mill, which hadn’t ground grain for years and whose sails looked like tired arms. Behind the mill, the letter said, and as she rounded the corner, she saw the hill. It wasn’t really a hill, more a thick mound in the field, overgrown with grass and a few tattered dandelion blossoms. There was no one there. Just the wind rustling the grass, and far off, a crow cawing. Mila sat down in the grass, the letter in her pocket, and waited. She waited a long time, so long that she began to pull up blades of grass and tear them into little pieces. The sun was now beating down on her head, and she was already wondering whether she’d misread the letter, whether perhaps another hill was meant, or another day, when the air in front of her began to shimmer. Not like heat, but like when you look into water and the stones at the bottom move. The shimmering grew denser, took on colours—green and purple and a blue she had never seen before—and then there they were: two figures. One was small and plump, with a face full of wrinkles and a nose that looked like a forgotten potato. On its head it wore a hat that was far too big, from which something that looked like stardust—or perhaps dandruff—was constantly trickling down. The other was tall and thin, with skin that shimmered as if dusted with fine gold, and eyes that were red as rubies, yet friendly, as if someone had placed two small lamps inside them. She had wings that lay close to her body, like a bat’s, but were transparent at the edges, and when she smiled, she showed teeth that were a bit pointy but not dangerous. Mila jumped up so quickly that her shoe flew off. She stared at the two of them, and they stared back. Then the small, plump one made a curtsy so deep that her hat almost slipped from her head, and said in a voice that sounded like crackling paper: “Greetings, Mila. I am Witch’s Tooth. And that one there,” she pointed with a crooked finger at the tall one, “is Dragon’s Blood. We are the ones who invited you.” Dragonblood bowed, and it rustled as if dry leaves were blowing over stones. “We need your help,” she said, and her voice was deep and velvety, like a distant thunderstorm. “We want to hold a festival. The greatest magic festival in a hundred years. But we magical creatures, we can’t just celebrate like that. We need a host. A human. Someone to hold the festival together, to make sure the magic doesn’t boil over. And we thought of you.” Mila swallowed. She was missing a shoe, her hair was stuck to her forehead, and she felt as though her brain had turned to mush. “But why me?” she stammered. “I can’t do anything special. I live in the village, I go to school, I... I don’t even have a pet, which isn’t normal.” Hexenzahn giggled, and it sounded like falling marbles. “That’s exactly why. You’re normal. You’re the anchor. When we celebrate, the magic goes wild; it wants to dance and jump and do somersaults. But when you’re there, with your calm manner, it stays friendly. Then chaos turns into a celebration.” Dragonblood nodded. “It’s a great honour. But also a great responsibility. The guest list is long, and not all the guests are... easy. The cake has a tendency to run away if you’re not careful. The garlands tie themselves in knots out of sheer malice. And the music... well, the music lives in a teacup and only comes out if you hit the right note.” Mila had to laugh. It was a nervous laugh, but it was a laugh. “That sounds as if the party’s already a complete shambles.” “Oh, it will be,” said Hexenzahn cheerfully. “But a lovely shambles. A cheerful one. And you’ll be the centre around which everything revolves.” She pulled a rolled-up sheet of paper out of her hat, which was far too big to have fit in there. “Here’s the list. Read it. But make haste. The ‘ ’ festival is tonight, when the moon rises.” Mila took the sheet. It was heavier than the letter, and as she unrolled it, she saw names that moved, things that appeared and vanished: “Three water nymphs from the mill pond, a pack of gnomes from the rootwork, the Sandman (only until midnight), the seven winds, a forgotten giant (he’s usually asleep, don’t wake him), and many, many more.” Dragonblood leaned down towards her, and her breath smelled of mint and hot air. “Start with the simple things. The garlands, the cake. I’ll take care of the fireworks; that’s my speciality. But make sure Hexenzahn doesn’t plan too much. She has a tendency to get bogged down.” “I hear you!” cried Hexenzahn indignantly, and even more dust trickled from her hat. “I’m planning just right. A party needs structure. Without me, everything would go haywire.” “It’ll go haywire anyway,” said Dragonblood calmly. “But it’ll be our kind of haywire.” Mila stood there, the list in her hand, feeling as though she’d fallen into a picture book. An hour ago she’d been hanging out the washing, and now she was standing here, between a witch and a dragon, and was supposed to organise a magic party. “Okay,” she said quietly, and then louder: “Okay. I’ll do it. But you have to help me. I’ve never made a garland that wasn’t made of paper. And a cake that runs away? How do you catch that?” Witch Tooth beamed, and her wrinkles turned into little smiles. “That’s the right attitude! Don’t worry, we’ll learn together. Come on, sit down. Let’s make a plan.” All three of them flopped down onto the grass, and Dragonblood folded her wings around herself like a cloak. The sun was now directly overhead, and Mila forgot about her wet trousers and her missing shoe. She forgot about the village and the chickens and the washing. She immersed herself in a world she’d only ever known from books, and didn’t even notice how time was passing. Witchtooth took a piece of chalk from her pocket and drew circles in the grass that looked like plans, and Dragonblood whispered in her ear how to make fireworks that don’t bang, but sing. And Mila, the perfectly ordinary Mila from the forgotten village, listened, asked questions, and in her mind a festival began to take shape that was bigger than anything she had ever dreamed of . She didn’t yet know that the cake wouldn’t just run away, but would also become cheeky. She didn’t yet know that the garlands wouldn’t just get tangled up, but could also giggle. She didn’t yet know that an important guest would be missing and that she would have to go out searching in the middle of the night, alone, with nothing but a glowing stone in her hand. But she would soon learn all that. For the party had already begun, even before the first guest arrived. The magic was in the air; you could taste it, sweet and a little sharp, and Mila took a deep breath. She was ready. Or so she thought.

Chapter 2 – Mila Gets to Be the Hostess