It is said that there once lived a genius inventor by the name of Ray, whose skill and prowess rivalled Arc the Builder herself. With her bare claws, she could weave the rays of the distant stars and the smell of the wildflowers into animals indistinguishable to any other.

Ray would breathe life into her mechanical creatures, wondrous things that would jump and sing and chirp, just like any living thing would. One that could leap its height twentyfold, one that could fly as high as the stars above. People from all around would come marvel at her inventions, who were always in the mood to play with the visitors.

But there came a day when Ray became unhappy. “All this talent, but nothing to show for it,” she said to herself. As she paced her workshop, a flash of inspiration struck her. “I have it!” she said. “I will build a dragon.”

And thus began her plans to build a dragon larger than anyone had seen before, with ferocious teeth and scaly wings. But first, she built a cage, a cage forged from the strongest metals she could find, a humongous cage as large as any dragon, a sturdy cage to house a beast. And only once the cage was finished did she begin her work.

And oh! How she worked. Day and night without rest, the light of her workshop shone through the night and burned through the day. Not a glimpse of her was spotted by the townspeople for days and days on end as Ray forged and hammered away until finally, at long last, her work was complete.

“And now, I have invented a dragon, the greatest animal of all,” Ray proclaimed proudly. But as the dragon came to life, she did not dance and sing like Ray’s other creations had. She roared and slammed against the cage, frightening Ray. What ferocious claws, what scaly wings that battled and scraped and thrashed against the hard, metal bars of the cage.

How Ray cowered in the face of her own creation! How the dragon raged! For what seemed like an eternity did the dragon struggle until finally she seemed to tire and retreated to the far corner of her confines.

Ray watched as the dragon curled up into a ball, her eyes following Ray as she gingerly approached the cage. Ray heard the exhale of the dragon as she took another step closer, and another. And though the dragon was large, far larger than her, she saw at the same time how the dragon looked so small. And she saw what an ugly cage it was.

Slowly, uncertainly, Ray picked up the key to the cage and fitted it into the lock. With a turn, the cage door slowly swung open. Ray tensed, bracing for the worst, but the dragon did not leap at her. Ray reached out a claw, and like so many of her creations had before, the dragon extended her head, letting Ray stroke her scaled skin.

Together, the pair stepped out of Ray’s workshop. “Listen,” Ray proclaimed to the townsfolk, who gathered and gaped at her newest invention, “and repeat not my mistakes! For our creations were never meant to be caged, and our talents never meant to be used for malfeasance.”

The townsfolk watched as Ray the Inventor hoisted herself onto her dragon’s back. And together, they rode off into the night sky.