Dragon's Orphans (Patreon)

I will be updating this post as I write more of this story. It is collected from a series of twitter posts I have been making, tying this story together. It is not told linearly but this post will be ordered as close as it can be. There may be parts missing for a little bit but they will be added over time. (Latest update 9/6)

DRAGON'S ORPHANS

Fighter: Our trap will be here, right in the middle of the caravan.

Barbarian: Finally, we will cleave the head of the serpent.

Cleric: Are we sure this is a good idea?

F: With all those people and all the gold we planted, it’s dragon-nip.

C: That’s what worries me.

#DnD

F: What do you mean?

C: It just doesn’t feel right.

B: I disagree. This trap is nearly flawless.

C: No, not the idea. It works but… these people didn’t sign up for it.

F: Nobody signs up for a dragon attack.

F: The beast keeps attacking, it keeps killing. It is a monster and needs to be put down by any means necessary.

C: Even if that means sacrificing those fleeing from it?

F: …

C: …

F: …yes.

B: If we remain motionless, the snake will kill many more.

F: That’s my point.

C: There has to be another way. We’re signing these people up for death.

F: The dragon would probably attack them anyway.

C: WE planted the gold! WE made sure the dragon knew! WE are ensuring an attack!

F: Do you have a better idea?

C: We could at least tell them.

F: Then there would be no caravan.

B: No caravan, no trap.

C: It’s such a high cost.

F: So is doing nothing.

C: This might be worse.

F: I know you don’t like this, but the ends will justify the means.

C: IF we kill the dragon.

B: If we cannot, we will die.

F: Yeah! Either we save the day, or we die heroes. Win, win, all around.

Lyle sat with their hands together, fingers interlaced, their attention fixed heavily on the planks beneath them. Their mother and father sat a few feet away, two more faces among the dozens of others in the moving wooden crate. They were all fleeing their home and the weight of it could be seen in every dull eye.

The attacks had been relentless, days and days of fire coming from the sky. At first, the city tried to strike back. Those that stood against the dragon wound up as piles of molten metal and ashes.

Many families left early but Lyle’s family was stubborn. Their father was stubborn. They planted their feed in the dirt, and refused to leave their home. When it was just the three of them, and their mansion was burned to the ground, they all finally climbed into the wagon.

Many still remained, standing in opposition to the tyrant with nothing but will and principle. Lyle thought they were fools. The dragon clearly had only one goal in mind, the total annihilation of their city. It could do it in a single day but the sadistic beast drew it out, pulling as much suffering and death out of the act as they could.

What buildings remained were left standing only so the dragon could come back and topple them later. They had no interest in trade, no interest in offering. They just wanted to tear everything down, bit by bit.

Even more foolish that those that opposed the dragon was Lyle’s father. He sat, chained to a side-rail in the cart, a suitcase full of valuables secured in the chains. What did he expect to do with a few gems and a handful of gold? Their old life was gone, Lyle could see that, even as a teenager.

What’s worse is that they were told, very clearly, not to bring anything of value. The vile dragon may still attack them if it was hungry but if it sensed any kind of valuables among the dozen or so carts, it would come without question. Lyle’s mother begged him not to bring it, the stubborn old man didn’t listen.

Lyle regarded his father’s face. He used to be so strong, something to be respected and feared. Now, his skin was pale, covered in dirt, worry and loss etched into every crease. His mother wore the same expression but, whereas there was some compassion for her, he felt nothing but contempt for the shadow of his father before him.

Moving his gaze past the sunken faces, Lyle looked out at all the other carts. Some of them could be considered wagons, some of them were barely wheelbarrows. This was all that was left, or all that could be made quickly. They formed a long line, all of them open to the sky, save for one.

A late addition to the caravan, the wagon looked as though it used to be something fancy but it had been reduced down to its basest part, stripped of all ornamentation. Still, it was nicer than the nails and wood that barely held together under him. Lyle assumed some royals, higher than his family, simply had to have their own cart.

It was flanked by a small band of people. A man in unique armor, a woman with thighs as big as Lyle’s torso, someone wearing holy robes, and a man with a few instruments rattling off their horse and a fake smile that annoyed Lyle. Private protection likely. Only the best for “better” royals.

The road had become more dangerous, changing slowly from city streets, to dirt trails, to a mountainous pass. The wind bit at them, causing all those without protection to bundle together to try and stay warm. Lyle’s parents beckoned him to come in close, to share what warmth they could.

Lyle sat in place instead, enjoying the bitter cold and spite that filled his chest.

It was hard to say exactly when he heard the beating wings. The wind rattled in his ears, the grinding wheels and hoofs all around him droned into his mind. The wings were just another thing to ignore, until they were not.

A large shadow cut across the sky, bringing the caravan to a halt. To one side of the carts was a sheer wall of stone, only a few meters away. To the other side, another sheet wall in the other direction, leading down hundreds of meters to jagged rocks. The dragon landed on the space between, right in front of the strange cart.

There were screams, tears, and the taste of blood. Many huddled in fear, a few ran away from the beast, some up the mountain, some down. Lyle remained in place, awestruck by the vision of this thing up close. It was actually smaller than he expected.

It stood around five meters or so high, with a wingspan to match; it was terrifying. Still, the flames and death it had produced above the city made it appear much larger in his mind. It was covered in dull brown and red scales, with a few sheer silver ones that shone in the sunlight.

It looked young.

“I believe you have something for me?” the dragon said in a low tone. Their long mouth turned up in a smile, revealing rows of teeth.

“Dragon! We hope to bring peace t-” the robed one started.

“We do!” the armored fighter shouted. “Hit it!”

Just then, a figure Lyle had somehow missed during the hours-long trek melted off the back of the strange wagon. They wore a cloak that shimmered in the waning light of the day and held a long rope attached to the wagon. They dropped quickly and silently to the ground then pulled hard on the rope.

Suddenly, the wagon exploded, bits of wood flying away from the center. Large wooden panels fell to the side, exposing a strange bit of machinery and a dozen or so large sacks. In all the confusion, Lyle could not see exactly what flew out of the wagon, or how exactly it was propelled, but something large rocketed towards the dragon, striking it in the face.

The dragon’s head reeled back, the force of it causing the dragon to stumble and smash the cart behind its back. A few remaining people from it scattered, but not all of them. Lyle could see blood under the dragon’s back foot.

There was a brief moment of silence, where only the wind could be heard. Then, chaos erupted.

The dragon’s head came back, half covered in shining blue crystals. Its one uncovered eye was full of rage. It attempted to open its mouth, failed, and began thrashing on the mountainside. It swiped down at the warriors, who seemed just as stunned as everyone else.

The first swipe caught the one in the robes, cutting into them deeply and smashing them against the mountain wall. The second swipe missed the fighters and instead smashed into the bizarre cart. What Lyle thought were bags of sand holding it down erupted into a shower of gold coins.

Lyle watched them fall and knew instantly that everyone here was going to die. All because some royals could not be separated from their coin.

The crystals were growing on the dragon’s face, slowly creeping down its neck and up its horns. The gold coins fell like hard rain. Some of the remaining refugees clamored for it, reaching up to catch some or down to the ground to gather it. Many got between the warriors and the dragon attempting to get whatever they could.

The woman made of muscles darted under the dragon’s claws, pushing those that might threaten to trample her out of the way. She ran to the cleric and hoisted them over her shoulder.

“We must retreat!” She barked at her comrades.

“No!” the armored one shouted. “We have it right where we want it!”

“We absolutely do not!” she shouted back.

The crystals now covered the entire face of the thrashing dragon. It swiped blindly and smashed its head against the side of the mountain. It overturned the strange cart, spilling the remaining gold over the side. Many people fell over the side with it, a few more jumped down to follow the wealth.

Lyle was up, on his feet, surprising himself. The shock had released him and he reached to his side, drawing his dagger. It was a gift from his grandfather, the last thing he had to remember him by. His grandfather said it was magical but Lyle never believed him. Still, it was all he had.

He stepped forward towards the beast, his feet wobbly on the rickety cart. He felt hands on his shoulders, soft ones. He looked down to see his mother pushing him back. She was crying, shouting something at him. She pointed at everyone running behind them but there was so much bedlam, he couldn’t make out her words.

His father was stuck, struggling with the chained briefcase. In all the chaos, the key had dropped between the cracks of the cart and he was doing all he could to rip the bar free from the cart. Despite the shoddy condition of everything else, the rail held firm. Lyle again felt only contempt for his father’s foolishness.

Lyle looked up again at the dragon. The blue crystals had become a glowing purple. There was light coming from where the dragon’s mouth would be. All of the warriors except one had retreated, helping to guide the fleeing people down the mountain.

The final warrior, the armored leader, held a shining sword aloft. He shouted something incoherent, possibly brave, possibly inane. He charged at the dragon and struck it in its underside with the blade, cutting a deep gash into the beast.

He raised the sword back, the blood glistening in the last of the light before he was smashed back by one of the dragon’s blind strikes. The sword flew away, spinning off the side of the mountain in pieces. The warrior landed with a thud and stumblingly reached for their large shield.

The crystals grew a bright purple, changing to a blinding white. From somewhere behind Lyle, a commanding voice shouted to get down. A blinding explosion rocked the air around them. Lyle shrunk back, covering their eyes, dropping their dagger on the cart.

When they opened their eyes again, the dragon stood tall, crystals completely removed from their neck and face. Lyle went to move forward again and felt a pain in their stomach. They looked down and saw a long shard of the crystal, still glowing hot, shallowly cutting into their stomach.

Time slowed as they followed the crystal from their own bleeding stomach, to the chest of their mother. The long shard had impaled her from the back, run straight through her and, had it not been slowed by their body, would have killed Lyle. She tried to speak, to breathe, but only blood came out.

Lyle looked into his mother’s eyes. There was fear, there was pain. She broke her gaze and looked down at her chest, touching the crystal briefly before collapsing to the cart. His father screamed, pulled against the rail, and tried, in vain, to reach out to his love with his one unrestrained arm. He wailed again, making a sound Lyle had never heard before.

The fighter was back up on their feet and began retreating, running towards Lyle, toward everyone else that had escaped. They were past Lyle in seconds. The dragon reared back, fire welling in their mouth. Lyle, in a daze, took a large step forward, intending to take on the dragon unarmed.

It struck him how much of a fool he was as well. But that didn’t matter. He would rip this dragon apart with his bare hands if he had to.

Something pulled at the back of Lyles' shirt, tripping them backwards and over the rear of the cart. They landed on their neck with a thud and then clumsily rolled onto their side. Their vision blurred and sparkled for just a moment. Then the world was an inferno.

Everything around them burned and their hands, feet, and hair sizzled. Instinctively, they pulled into a ball, protecting themselves as best they could. The world was nothing but heat, pain, and noise. After a moment, the fire stopped and a massive wind blew around them, the sound of beating wings following.

Before Lyle could open his eyes, he was being moved. He was dazed, unable to understand what was happening or to even move his body. He saw the caravan, what was left of it at least. He saw a large smoldering shield, red hot from the flames. He remembered the warrior holding it, saw the scorch marks in the ground where the shield protected them both.

He looked up, a bald and burned fighter was over him, pulling him up by his arms. Lyle looked back at the devastation. He saw his father, his mother, charred corpses among charred corpses. The briefcase his father so desperately held onto was burned up, with most of the contents exposed and burned.

The wind kicked up again, stinging Lyle on his face, hands, and feet. It picked up a pile of something from the briefcase, papers, pictures. Lyle saw memories from his childhood, family members he knew and some he never did. His mother and father, as they were before and after him.

All of them floated into the air, carried on the wind. Each of them had embers burning them away, the extra oxygen from the flight causing them to ignite in a flash. Lyle’s life, his family, all that had come before him was scattered like burning leaves on the wind. There was nothing left of his life before this very moment.

Suddenly, Lyle was in the air as well. The warrior hoisted him up, throwing him on his shoulder. He felt himself bounce on the powerful fighter’s shoulder as they ran down the mountain. Lyle looked up once more, their vision growing dim.

Nothing but death and ashes lay behind them.

---

Wizard: Oh, dear! What happened?!

Dragon: It was a trap. They attacked me. I’m hurt pretty badly.

W: What about all the gold?

D: I didn’t… I lost it.

W: Did you lose your temper again? You’re so unreliable.

D: I’m sorry…

W: It’s fine. *sigh* Let’s fix you.

D: Thanks…

#DnD

Trigger Warning: Emotional Abuse

W: Wow, this is pretty deep. What did they hit you with?

D: Some crystal thing. It started covering my face.

W: I told you to watch out for that.

D: You did?

W: Yes, I did.

D: I don’t remember that.

W: I know you don’t.

W: But I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about this bleeding gash.

D: Oh I uh… I don’t feel so good.

W: Don’t worry, you know I take care of you, in spite of everything.

D: What does that mean?

W: Nothing, just words.

D: You meant something by it.

W: I didn’t. Why are you acting like this?

D: I’m not acting like anything. If you have something to say, just say it.

W: I didn’t say anything. What are you even talking about? I think you need to calm down.

D: I have a gaping wound.

W: And that is whose fault?

D: …mine.

W: Yup.

D: You could have helped me.

W: Do you have any idea how much I do? How about you try and stay in the lair and help me instead.

D: I’m busy burning the city down.

W: You chose that.

D: Wait… no… I- we made that plan together.

W: Yeah, together but here I am, cleaning up your messes.

D: Stop, just… you can’t treat me this way.

W: What way? Patching your wounds? Taking care of your home. Being there for you, even when you don’t deserve it? Staying here while you go fulfill your dreams. You know, I have dreams too.

D: I was doing this for you.

W: For me?

D: For us! The gold, the destruction! We made this plan together.

W: I guess.

D: Is that not what you want?

W: I do.

D: Then why are you pretending like you don’t!?

W: Being a monster isn’t really what I want. It’s what you want.

D: I’m a monster now!?

W: I didn’t say that.

D: You literally just did!

W: No I didn’t.

D: You did!

W: Why do you always try and pick a fight with me!?

D: I… don’t… argh! I should fry you!

W: Sure, go ahead. Hurt me again. Prove me right.

D: I’m… going for a walk.

W: I haven’t finished patching up your wound.

D: I don’t care!

W: FIne, whatever. Lose control, see if I care.

In a swirl, the dragon grabbed their polymorph cloak, shrinking in size to an average humanoid. They did their best to avoid the glare of the wizard.

“That’s mine,” the wizard said.

“I don’t care,” the dragon, now more resembling a dragonborn, shot back. They reached for a small table and took a satchel of gold pieces.

“Don’t expect me to be here when you get back,” the wizard said.

“I just need to clear my head. I’ll be back later today,” they said, completing their collection task by grabbing another bag full of traveling clothes and supplies. They winced as they dressed themselves.

“You do what you have to do. I’ll do what I need to do.”

“What does that mean?” the dragon asked.

“Nothing,” the wizard said before turning away and walking deeper into the dragon’s lair.

The dragon walked the other way, heading towards the bright daylight outside. Their side hurt, the wound having only reduced in size but not healing. They regarded it as they walked, letting the pain of touching it fill them, mixing with the frustration at their lover. Each step was painful but she found joy in the sting of it, of letting the anger grow within her. By the time she reached the mouth of the cave, she could barely feel the wound itself anymore.

Looking around, she found herself amongst a small thicket of trees, a few of them bent and broken from her coming-and-goings. The trees hid the massive cave entrance, something that would otherwise stand out in the sparse forest. The foolish forces of the city they had decided to ransack, Eastedge, had sought out their lair high in the local mountains. It made them easy prey. After a few months of ever more desperate searches, their remaining forces left to defend the city were spread thin. They too, then, were easy prey.

Eastedge was a smaller city, barely even able to be considered that, and too far away from the larger civilizations, Old Solaris and Alruhm, for them to send any tangible help. Situated at the base of a mountain range that was abruptly cut into by the ocean, it was just barely able to carve out a place for itself in the world. A few mana rich mines, a large nearby forest, and access to a diverse supply of food made it what it was before she and her lover showed up. Now, the city was half ash and death.

She decided to pay it a visit, in her current form. She would walk the streets and see everything she had done from the ground level. She rarely did this but today seemed like a good a time as any to change up the pace of things. Maybe the sight of her work would bring her turning mind to equilibrium. A little suffering, a little gloating, that’s what she needed. After all, that’s what dragon’s lived for, right? Of course it was, they had always preyed on cities, always taken whatever they wanted. If a city wasn’t strong enough to stop them, that was their fault. Survival of the fittest was normal, it was natural. That’s what her father said.

By lowering the magical influence of the cape, she could augment her body to become a mix of her disguise and her true form. She did this now and sprouted large wings. The act brought some pain to her wound, something she made a mental note to fix in the city. As destroyed as it was, she was sure she could purchase a healing potion or two somewhere, for the right price. Who cares how much it cost, it was their gold anyway. And if she couldn't buy it, she would just take it. Normal, natural.

WIth a few quick beats, she was over the treeline, flying low. Within moments Eastedge was within view. About a year ago, when they had first devised the plan to ravage the city, she would have been more cautious approaching the city. But now, with over half the population dead or deserted, there was little she worried about. In the next few months, there would be nothing left to take and she would waltz through the city in her true form, wrecking whatever she pleased. Her face grew with a toothy smile as she reveled in the thought. She came to a graceful landing a mile or so outside the city gates, or what was left of them.

She pulled in her wings and began walking. A few moments later, she was face to face with a single city guard. He was a young human, pale skin covered in pock marks and acne. The idea of a mustache toyed at his upper lip, which seemed to quake when he spoke. He seemed to have just woken up from daydreaming, letting her know it was unlikely he had seen her in the sky.

“Please state your business,” he said to the disguised dragon. His voice was surprisingly high.

“My business is my own,” she said back.

He looked her over, his eyes trailing a little too long on her legs. He caught her wound in his eyes and didn’t seem to react.

“Get hurt on your way here?” he asked, his voice sounding somewhat bored.

Under her cloak, she lets the magic loosen and extended her claws, ready to strike him dead right there.

“It’s dangerous out there. You’re lucky, a cleric just came in. They’ve been helping as much as they can. Not that it’s a whole lot.”

Both of her hands flexed into fists, the claws causing the cloak to furl strangely. A cleric? She remembered a cleric in the group that attacked her. Could it be the same one?

“You ok, miss?” the young guard asked.

“No. Yes,” she fumbled over her thoughts. “Why are they here?”

“They were helping a few people get out of town,” he said before sighing heavily. “Guess it didn’t go so well. No idea what they’re gonna do now, or why they came back. There’s nothing worth coming back to here.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Dragon came in, killed everyone. They said they stabbed it though. Too bad they didn’t kill it. Maybe it will bleed to death, that monster dying would be the best news we’ve had in a while.”

She almost impaled him where he stood but the desire to move was stopped by a sudden stabbing of their side. Instead, she motioned into the city. She coughed slightly. “Where did they go?”

“They're set up in the Limben apartments, or what’s left of them. Four streets down, take a left, right next to the school, or what’s left of that too I guess.”

“Thank you,” she said and pushed past him.

“No problem. Be careful, miss, dogs have been hungry. Damn monster’s ruined everything.”

She paused, flexing her hands again. “If it’s dangerous… maybe I could use an escort?”

“I really shouldn’t leave my post,” he said back, unsure.

She turned to face him, putting on a charming face. “What if the dragon comes back? Who would protect me from such a monster?” She fluttered her eyes and pulled herself down, giving the illusion of frailty.

He perked up, gaining some height in his spine and air in his chest. His mustache even seemed to gain some depth. “Alright, miss. I think… I mean, I’ll be glad to escort a lady in need.”

He didn’t even scream when her claws dug into his neck. She lazily carried his body into the burned down remains of a shop and left him behind the counter. The dogs would take care of his body soon, she could even hear them sniffing around. Looking over the building, she saw mostly empty shelves, a corner full of slag, and a sizable bird’s nest in the rafters. It was fresh, a bit of life finding a place in all the death around her.

She took a few minutes to scrounge a little deeper, hoping to find something to help her heal. The wound had become somewhat troublesome, winding her more than she expected. She may need to go back to her lair before she finished what she came here to do. Which was… what exactly? Gloat? Clear her head? Do a little more senseless slaughtering? Her thoughts were interrupted when she caught the glimpse of a glass bottle, some viscous liquid floating in it. She picked it up and smiled, not a healing potion but a lone surviving jar of preserved peaches. Her favorite.

She gripped the lid, pulling at it. It didn’t budge. She tried again, once more, then extended a claw and simply carved a mangled hole in the top instead. She reached that same single claw in, pierced a peach, and placed it in her mouth. The flavor was magnificent and the texture was soft, small fibers pulling apart on her tongue. She didn’t even need to bite down as the sweet treat melted in her mouth. After she swallowed, she let out a long breath she didn’t know she was holding. Memories of different times, easier and harder, came floating back on the lingering flavor on her tongue.

She walked over to the counter, setting the jar on it before gently leaning on it, testing its strength. It held her. She rested the full weight of her on it, easing the pain in her side. The dust in the air swirled around her face as she took a few deep, calming breaths. She looked down at the dead guard, just a kid, she didn’t even get his name. Her hand flexed and then stabbed another peach, guiding the delicious prey into her mouth. As she was savoring it, she spoke to the corpse.

“You know,” she started, swallowing the peach before she continued. “I wasn’t always like this. When I was growing up, I actually wanted to be a princess. I had a fantasy about being a beautiful damsel that a handsome night would protect. I’d hide my secret for a while but he’d accept me for who I was eventually. We’d start a farm and grow acres of peaches. I tried to grow some myself a few times but never had the knack for it. The few I got to start my dad smashed.”

She reached down, pulling another few peach slices up and savoring them once by one. After a few seconds of reflection, she continued.

“I hated him for that. It seems silly now, how mad I got over that. It’s just a tree. I must have burned down about a thousand gardens now. He would have been proud of that. He would have been proud of this.”

She motioned to the burned building, to the door, finally to the dead boy.

“He would have been proud of how easy it was to kill you. He would have been so excited that I felt nothing ripping your neck apart. Parents, right?”

The corpse didn’t respond.

“Not much of a talker. I wonder, is this what your parents wanted for you? Well, not the ‘dead on an ash covered floor’ part, but the life of a city guard. It probably paid well. I bet they would have been thrilled. I can imagine your father and mother, so proud on the day you took the job. You, walking in your old man’s footsteps, your younger siblings looking up to you. Are any of them alive? Will your dad be waiting for you at the door? Will your mother be sick with worry when you don’t show up? Will your brother swear revenge on me, your sister cry over the loss of her older brother?”

She looked down at the body, blood still slowly draining from where his neck used to be. She ate another slice of peach.

“That must be nice,” she said, reaching into the nearly empty jar and pulling out one of the few remaining slices. “I want to grow peaches. But my dad… he wanted me to be a dragon. A ‘real’ dragon. He would say ‘We are balance. We keep the world going. Through our fires, the world is cleansed and reborn. It is our job to kill the weak, to ensure only the strongest survive. It is our destiny to take, to rule, to dominate. It's in our blood kid. I can’t escape it any more than you can.’ Then he’d hit me. Not hard, mind you, just enough. He could have killed me. It’s too bad, by the time I could hit back hard enough, some lucky bastard with a magic sword got to him first.”

She reached down to her own wound. “In our blood, I guess.”

She reached into the jar, finding the last slice and regarding it on her claw. She wanted to savor the appearance of it, the smell, the sticky reflection of light against its side. With an exaggerated slurp, she sucked it off her claw. It was just as delicious as the first. She picked up the jar and swirled the juice around, creating a murky mixture that filled about a quarter of the jar. With a blank expression, she tilted the jar towards the body, lifting it and her brow up at the same time, wordlessly asking if the dead kid wanted some of the concoction. The corpse said nothing. She shrugged, turned the jar up, and swallowed as much justice as she could. The sticky, sugary liquid ran around the jagged lid of the jar, with most of it falling in her mouth but a significant amount falling onto her cheeks and chin. She licked at what she could, wiped away the rest with her sleeve, and let out another satisfied sigh.

“I think he would be proud of what I’ve become. He was right, I’m no princess,” she said before turning away from the body and walking out the door. “But I’m one hell of a dragon.”

She didn't make it to the next block before she heard the dogs fighting over the boy’s remains.

—

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Glade said. He was looking down at the body of the boy he saved. The unconscious kid’s hands, face, and feet were burned. Glade had used his shield to try and protect them both from the dragon’s breath but it wasn’t quite enough. Glade absently pulled his hand across his own head, feeling the tender bald scalp he now sported. He couldn’t help but think of his jet black hair, and what a loss it was to him. Death was all around him, much of because of his foolhardy trap, and yet he still spared a moment for his hair. He felt foolish for it. He was no hero, he knew that now. Just a vainglorious idiot with too much confidence, just enough charisma and enough battle experience to get in over his head. Usually, it was just him and his party that paid the price. This time… it was far more.

“It was not,” Gloria said. Her thick body seemed untouched by the dragon, with only minor scratches on her tan skin. Due to her conflict heavy lifestyle, these kinds of scratches were not uncommon and so it was hard to tell if they even came from the failed dragon fight.

“Hey, you win some, you lose some,” said a floating head beside him.

Glade jumped. “Tobias! Take that off!”

“Oh,” Tobias said, pulling off his shimmer cloak. It didn’t quite make them invisible, and it only worked in the sun, but the transparent effect from it could be startling if you weren’t expecting it. Tobias’ eyes glimmered in the light, some part of their elven ancestry reflecting light in a strange way. Under the cloak, an assortment of knives covered their pale body more than the clothing did.

“I do not believe this counts as ‘lose some’,” Gloria said, gesturing to all the injured refugees they had to escort back to town. It was, at best estimate, half the number of those who set out to flee the city that morning.

“Hey, anybody seen Vant?” Tobias asked. “I bet they would have something funny to say about this. Maybe some joke about a dragon’s butt or something?”

“I find little humor to be found here,” Gloria said, voice devoid of emotion.

As if on cue, someone in the rows of bodies screamed out in pain and another began crying.

Glade sighed. “Vant left. Said he needed some time to think”

Vant was their resident storyteller, musician, comedian, seduction savant, and generally the heart of their group. It seemed almost poetic to Glade that, at this moment, when all seemed hopeless, the team lost their heart. Maybe, if Vant decided to come back, he’d tell him about this observation. Vant would probably rear back, put large hands on his large belly, and laugh with his bouncing beard at Glade. Glade wanted nothing more in this moment than to hear his laugh again.

“How about the kid, will he be ok?” Glade asked, shaking his thoughts away.

For a long moment, the cleric said nothing, only muttering to themselves a prayer that nobody could quite hear. When Bastion stood, their dark red skin and black hair drenched in sweat. They were slowly dying of the head their robes were collecting. Their dark eyes were somewhat confused for a moment before snapping back to reality.

“Sorry, I had to go a little deep on that one. My god was…hungry,” Bastion said.

“What, for sandwiches?” Tobias asked.

“Y-yes, actually,” Bastion said, looking confused again.

“The kid?” Glade asked.

“Oh… yes. He will be fine, mostly. He won't die, and much of the scarring will heal, but not all of it. His burns were deep,” Bastion said.

“You did all you could, thanks Bastion.” Glade said.

“We all did,” Bastion said back. There was no malice in his voice but Glade could feel all the eyes of his friends turn to him. Were they blaming him? He would understand if they did. Still, the eyes irritated him. What did they expect from him? He thought the plan would work, he thought he could save everyone. So many died today and their blood was on his hands. On his party’s hands too, but he put it there. The stares persisted and he grew more irritated.

“What are you all looking at!? What do you want from me!? I know, I screwed up. This is all my fault. That’s what you want to say, right?”

There was a long pause as each of them looked at each other, then to the red face of their leader. Tears had welled up in his eyes but his expression remained that of anger.

Gloria spoke up first. “None of us are certain what we now should do. We are looking to you for guidance, not as an accusation.”

Tobias broke in. “We all screwed up here. If we really hated your plan, we should have spoken up.”

“I did hate the plan,” Bastion said.

“And yet, dear brother, you proceeded with our endeavor all the same,” Gloria said to Bastion.

Bastion frowned. “Yes, dear sister, I did,” they said before breathing in deeply and releasing a sigh. “I didn’t have a better one either. I saw you got a good stab in Glade, maybe that’s all we needed. The magic will slow them down enough that we might be able to finish the job later.”

“We?” Gloria asked.

“You,” Bastion responded. “You know how I feel about this.”

There was a pause in the conversation, each eye turning to Glade again.

“So,” Tobias started “what now, boss?”

Glade pulled his back up, strengthening his body. He wiped away his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked around. Everywhere there was death and destruction but something strange caught his eye. A small nest, just a collection of weeds and twigs, placed precariously on the edge of a collapsed home. A small blue bird flew away, then another joined the nest. In all this death, in all the ash and destruction, there was a bit of life. Glade felt silly, he felt hopeful, and he decided to tell Vant about this one too.

“We’re going to do all we can. We’re going to heal who we can and then we’re going to help them get out of the city. The right way this time.”

The waning sun cast a glimmer across the scattered glass on the ground, across the eyes of Tobias, and shone on the parts of Glade’s armor that weren't covered in blood and scorch marks.

—

The city was a bit of a maze, with toppled buildings and debris making it hard to get around. The sun was getting close to setting, covering every corner in long shadows. The deeper she went, the more people she saw. Dirty, scared faces looked at her as she passed. A few mothers guarded their children. She was clearly from out of town and they were right to fear her, though they couldn’t have known why. Their stares made her uneasy. Some of them were vacant, some of them were pleading, some of them were angry, but the children unsettled her the most. Long sad faces, too old and experienced for their small frames. She stopped looking at anyone after a while, just trying to find any mention of the Limben apartments instead. It didn’t take long to find a sign pointing her in the right direction.

After having gotten slightly lost, she knew she was on the right track when she saw all the wounded people. Rows and rows of people, or what remained of many of them. Many of them were clearly dead but there was simply nobody to move them yet. She was surprised at how uneasy it made her feel. She had killed before, attacked bands of people, but this was the first city she had torched. She had never gotten this close to work of hers at this magnitude. The injured and dead went on for blocks. Some were inside what buildings remained but many were just lying on the sidewalk. A few people moved up and down the rows, delivering food and water, checking those still living, draping blankets over those that had stopped breathing. The sight of it made her angry. She couldn’t explain exactly why, this was her work, but the anger was there.

Her head began to swim a little. The stench of death and those crying out for help overwhelmed her. Her wound pulsed with her head and she grew a little wheezy. A faceless smudge of a person pushed past her, spinning her around. In a moment of clarity, she saw someone she recognized, or rather, a few blurs she was certain she knew. A long cape and a burned bald head, stuffed into armor. A bulky woman, muscles that would intimidate her in her full dragon form. Robes on a small frame, a tiny man that she remembered hitting at least once. They all stood together, except for the robed one, who was tending to a badly burned person. Maybe a teen? Her anger flared again and she felt her claws grow long.

She didn’t care what it took, she would slaughter that bald “hero” here and now. Her fire wasn’t enough to take his life but a few tears to the neck would do it. She had already practiced on the kid, this would be just as easy. She took a few steps forward, finding it difficult to catch her footing. She shook off the stars in her eyes and broke into a run. Just a few meters between her and a release from this terrible anger that had suddenly gripped her. Just a few meters to the calming waters of revenge.

Her wound pulsed. Her head throbbed. The robed one stood up, motioned to her. Her vision narrowed, dark circles filling in the periphery. The champion turned, bald head and bald eyebrows looking at her almost comically. He was burned, but not badly. He might heal from her fire but her claws… her claws… they felt heavy.

She stumbled forward, feet barely able to catch the ground. Then, without warning, the floor was racing towards her face. She stopped centimeters from the bricks, caught by a few hands. She heard a voice, one she had heard once before. The world went dark as his infuriating voice filled the last of her conscious mind.

“Woah!” the bald bastard said. “It’s ok. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

When she came to, she was on her side, staring at a painted map of the world. It was faded, some of it covered in dirt and splashed paints. Most of Ornoc was there, Shard, Caelum, Mond, with the final remaining continent, Aubade, was covered up by what appeared to be splashed paint. It was strange, waking up to see this wide view of the world. She rolled to her side, wincing at the pain in her side. It was lessened but still there. Once the pain passed, she was able to get a view of her surroundings. She was in a classroom, desks were pushed against one wall, a few other people laid on the floor around her. A breeze blew in from the hole in the wall, bringing attention to her clothing, or lack thereof. She instinctively reached for their cloak, feeling it and the magical clasp secure in its place. Other than that, she was stripped down to her underclothing. Looking to her left, she was relieved to see her clothes stacked in a neat pile beside her.

She tried to sit up to check on her things and was immediately knocked back by the pain. How was she still alive? She looked down at her side. It was better but not fully healed. Had the cleric helped her after all? That was one explanation. Thinking about it, she should have naturally healed already, her draconic physiology usually took care of wounds faster than this. That blade she was struck with, it must have been magical in some way. She took great joy in knowing she shattered it to bits. She breathed, laying back on the thin blanket they gave her. Her stomach rumbled and she wondered just how long she had been here.

She looked around again, searching for anything to eat. She saw only resting bodies, about seven in total. She could eat them, probably, but in her condition it might make it hard to escape. She had no idea exactly where she was, how many guards might be around, and if that group of “heroes” had any more magical tricks up their sleeves.

Just as she was working up the will to try and sit up again, the door opened. Three figures walked in but only one of them did she recognize. The two unknown people were holding a pail and a basket each, which they took to everyone in the room. From the basket, they pulled out a bit of bread, from the pail came some water on a ladle. The third figure was the cleric from before. For the first time, she got a good look at him. He was small, with dark red skin and small black horns that gave away his infernal heritage; a nephilim of some sort. He had short, stark black hair and harsh, dark brown eyes. He wore a set of robes that billowed out from him, making his already small body look even smaller by comparison. Their dark eyes swept the room before they settled on her.

She was caught, staring directly at him, and his gaze refused to waver from hers. That was, until one of the other two caught his attention.

“Sir,” the young girl said, looking up at the cleric. “No pulse on this one.”

The cleric stared at the dragon for another half-second before breaking their gaze and moving over to the body. They reached their hand out, checking for any sign of life. After a moment, they placed their ear to the chest, paused, then sighed. The assistant pulled a blanket up from the deceased’s hips, covering their face. The cleric stood up, looking again at the dragon, while the assistant moved onto the next person. The cold indifference of the exchange made the dragon shiver.

He walked over to her and powered himself to the floor, sitting crossed legged, something she could not see through his robes but was easy to determine from the bulges in them. He stared at her, an intense look of concentration on his face. It has been a long time since she felt intimidated and never by a creature of this size. Except, maybe, her lover. Damn him. Her mind flashed a bit of anger. This was his fault. He was the whole reason she got into the mess. If he hadn’t gotten her all twisted around, she wouldn’t have to look into the eyes of this half-demon.

He broke into her thoughts. “What’s your name?” he asked. His voice was light, higher than she expected but full of stern determination. Something about it carried a power she couldn't quite understand.

She thought about lying, about any name she could muster. No names came to her, and no reason to lie did either. She tried to respond but a sudden dryness in her throat made her cough harshly. The action shook her, causing the pain of her side to flare up. She shot up into a seated position, still coughing and grabbing her side in a small fit. Suddenly there was a ladle of water in her hand. She greedily pulled the liquid into her mouth, breathed deeply, then motioned for another spoonful. After a third ladle of water, her throat cleared and she was able to wipe away the tears in her eyes.

She stared back at the cleric, feeling even smaller than before.

“I’m Mintaka,” she said. She intended to say it with authority but it seemed to almost sound like a question when it came from her lips.

“I’m Bastion,” he said in response. “I’m going to do my best to help you with this wound but I need to know a little more about it. Where did it happen?”

Mintaka thought again to lie, a story of roving bandits played in her mind before her lips betrayed her. “I was attacked on the mountain pass,” she said, shocked at her honesty.

“I see,” he said, examining the wound. “And what were you doing up there?”

She could feel something, a magical influence coming from this man. She tried to lie again, to make up some story about exploring. “I was…” she caught herself, she could feel the truth being pulled out of her. This was something she had experienced before, a magic her partner had used once on her in a fight. She could not lie, not directly at least. But, as she had learned in that fight with the wizard before, she could obscure the truth. “I was hungry. I was travelling.”

“Were you with the caravan?” he asked.

“I was at the caravan, yes.” she responded, trying out how far she could push the truth.

“Were you there when the dragon attacked?”

“I was,” she said confidently.

“Funny, I don’t remember anyone that looked like you there,” he said. He was fiddling with a small book he had pulled from his side, going over some passage within.

“Oh, I was there alright. I saw the whole thing,” she responded.

“Is that so…” he said back. “This wound, it’s magical. How did that happen?”

“The sword cut me,” she said. Then, she paused for just a moment, allowing the next statement to stand on its own as a truth but, when combined with the first, to twist the meaning. “It shattered and the pieces went everywhere.”

He looked up from his tiny book, directly into her eyes. He squinted then just said “Yes.”

Mintaka breathed deeply, relieved he seemed to have bought the molded truth.

“One last question and I should be ready to help you. Why did you have this gold on you? We were told not to bring any gold, that it would attract a dragon attack.”

It took all her mental strength to keep the mental smirk from traveling to her face. “ I didn’t have it at the time,” she said, with nothing but honesty in her voice.

He let out a long breath, closed his tiny book with a small snap, and placed his hands on her side. She felt the pain of his touch and the release of whatever truth-demanding spell he had been pressing upon her at the same time. There was a small glow to his hands and she felt a pulse of electricity surge through her body. It shook her, causing her to slam back on the ground. Her head was caught by one of the attendants who, during their intense conversation, seemed to have snuck in behind her. There was searing pain one moment and then the next there was a simple dull ache. Mintaka took a deep breath and held back the immediate impulse to thank Bastion.

“I’ve removed the enchantment from the wound. It was actually a surprisingly strong curse, designed just for dragon folk. You’re very lucky we found you. It’s the most I can do for you today. As it is, you should be healed within a few days naturally. Until then, you need to rest. I’ll send in some of my people to look over you. Maybe even Glade, I think you caught his eyes.”

She looked over at Bastion, eyes blurry from whatever just happened. She thought about burning him to a crisp.

“He’s the one who led us on the attack against the dragon. He’s got a lot to answer for now, guess we all do,” Bastion said as they began to rise. He motioned for the two attendants to leave, waiting until they closed the door to look down at Mintaka again. By the time her eyes met his, her vision had cleared.

“I know I said I only had one more question but neither of us have been completely honest here, have we?” He glared at her, eyes narrow. He took a breath and continued. “Do you know that nephilim are unique among the humanoids? Not quite mortal, not quite divine or infernal, we sit at a nexus, with some abilities of both. Did you know that some of our senses have remarkable qualities. We can hear, touch, smell, and even see with more detail than others. Did you know about our vision? We have eyes that can usually see through a flimsy illusion or a polymorphic spell.”

Her eyes grew wide as she felt him look right through her.

“I'm a pacifist, by trade and choice. When you die, and you will die, it won’t be by my hand. I hate violence, I hate death, the whole act sickens me to my core. But my sister, she loves fighting, she lives for it. I once saw her take on a statue just to release her need for destruction. She broke her body against it, smashing the stone with her bare fists and feet. It was terrible,” he paused, looked away into the distance and then pulled his glare back to her eyes. “Once you’re able to walk, you’ll disappear, otherwise I’ll let the curse spread again. It’s still there, in your blood now, the best I could do was suppress it; it will stay that way, unless I see you here one moment longer than you need to be. You won’t die, you’ll just slow down a little more each day. And when you finally come to a complete halt, trapped inside the rigid prison of your body, I’ll let my sister know what statue she should take on next.” He hung on the moment before finishing with, “Are we clear?”

Mintaka said nothing. She just stared, dumbfounded, into this small creature's intense eyes.

“I thought so,” Bastion said before he turned, walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

Mintaka laid down, contemplating everything that just happened. Was she really cursed? How could she leave? What happens now? She rolled her head to one side and caught sight of the map again. She thought about everywhere on that map, everywhere else she could be. She wished that she could do as Bastion had said, disappear and fly to some other place. Everywhere on the map seemed like a better place than where she currently was. She could go, get away. Leave her partner, leave the ashes of this city, leave who she had become here, right here on the cold floor. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, and she knew it. Her eyes blurred again and, for the first time in years, she wept.

—

Lyle awoke with a start, sitting up from a nightmare. Everyone was dead, dying, burned by fire, a mighty beast laughing at their torment. He checked his face and it felt rough, wrong. His hands felt wrong. They were burned, not as badly as he had expected but still wrinkly and scarred. He felt his head, no hair. His feet ached and he tried to stretch them. That’s when the pain finally caught up to him. He threw himself back, then curled into a ball. He laid there for a long time, hissing through his teeth. He tried to breathe through his nose but the air felt wrong in it. Everything felt wrong.

After a time, the pain released him and he sat up. Looking around he was in some sort of school. There were others, all resting on thin blankets. Memories of what happened, the nightmare he thought he was waking up from, came rushing back. He had the sudden desire to scream, to rip his own skin off, to find any way to meet total oblivion, even for just a moment. It wasn’t right. It was unjust. Everything was wrong and nobody was going to make it right. Even that “hero” who saved him couldn’t help his parents. His parents couldn’t help themselves even. It was all wrong, all terrible.

Instead of screaming, Lyle swallowed his anger, his pain. He stood up quickly. His blood was pumping, his heart was racing. He looked around. One of the people here was covered completely in a blanket. Beside them were a few clothes and a pair of shoes. They didn't need that. Lyle took them, quickly dressing himself and using the dead man’s blanket as a cloak. He looked around again.

A dragonborn lay nearby, barely breathing. They had a nicer cloak, Lyle could take it. They might fight him though. Could he kill them? Maybe. It wouldn't matter anyway. Everything was dead, this world, his parents, it was all sick. He reached for the clasp but at that same moment the dragonborn turned over, exposing a small wound on their side. Lyle could see it shimmer strangely. He wanted to get closer, to investigate, but something else caught his eyes. Sitting behind this person’s stack of clothing was a small bag. Lyle quietly opened it; there was gold, lots of it.

He took the bag as quietly as he could, turned towards the door and smiled to himself. He would have to sneak out of town with the gold. With this stash he could probably find a boat, sail away, and find a better place to die. Maybe he could study the arcane? Find a way to slay a dragon? Was revenge what he wanted? No… it was total oblivion. He had no more ties, nothing pulling him back. He could do anything he set his mind to now. So he decided, as he closed the classroom door behind him. The world was rotten to its core and Lyle was the one that was going to fix it.

---

Barbarian: At 10,000, it’s simply a matter of scale.

Fighter: I don’t care how many chickens you have, they can’t beat a dragon!

Rogue: What if you gave them swords?

B: Yes, arm them.

F:They have talons!

R: Oh… daggers then.

B: And armor!

#DnD

F: How would we even get 10,000 chickens?

B: Magic.

F: Ok, fine, but then the armor and weapons?

R: Chickensmith.

F: I- you… what!? Where are we going to find a chickensmith!?

R: I know a guy.

F: You do not!

R: You shouldn't doubt my 'know a guy' powers.

F: Fine, you know what… fine. If we can’t come up with a better plan, let’s go with the chicken idea.

B: Wonderful. I’ll shall begin learning chickenspeak.

R: Eggselent idea. We’re going to flock up that dragon!

B: Yes we will… scramble them. It will be… over easy.

F: I hate both of you.

Light and shadows flickered off the walls of the crumbled house. The small team of adventurers sat around a fire that was about two meters outside the actual fireplace. They had built the ring with rubble and placed it right in the center of the living room. Despite the dire circumstances outside, three of the four sat and laughed, discussing whatever came to mind and eating whatever food they had been able to scavenge earlier in the day. A few cookies made the rounds, providing a welcome sugary relief for their weary bodies.

“And did you see how I caught her?” Glade asked, to nobody in particular.

“Yeah, man. We all saw it,” Tobias said.

“I was like -kachow-,” he said, striking himself down to one knee with the expression. Then, in a deeper tone he said “I’ve got you, beautiful. I’ve got you.”

“Ah, are we embellishing the story already?” Gloria asked. “If so, I recall you also having a flowing head of hair and her scaly lips coming up to meet yours.”

“Oh yeah,” Tobias said, picking up the thread. “I remember now. She said ‘Glade, my love, I have fallen for you with just a glance! Please, give me children!” Then the sky opened and light shone down upon your fated meeting!”

“Yes, I remember all of these events and more. Did any of you hear angels singing? I remember weeping at the beauty of the scene!” Gloria said with a smile.

“Ok, I get it. You can stop now,” Glade said, a smirk across his own face. He was not above a bit of gentle ribbing from his friends, even if the words stung a little more than he hoped.

All of them heard footsteps coming in from the doorway and turned to see Bastion coming in, looking exhausted.

“Hey Bastion, where have you been? Want in on this?” Tobias asked.

“VIsiting my mom,” Bastion said flatly. “What am I getting in on?”

“Dinner,” Gloria said, handing him a bit of cheese.

Bastion put up his hand in protest. “No thanks, I’m feeling a little overstuffed, I think.”

“We’re also giving Glade a hard time about his new girlfriend,” Tobias said.

“She’s not-” Glade started.

“Who?” Bastion asked.

“The scaly one he caught the other day. Glade thinks she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen,” Gloria said over Glade.

“I didn’t say all that.” Glade said.

“Oh, I’ve got you, beautiful. I’ve got you, my sweet princess! I shan't let any harm come to you, my honor as a knight forbids it!” Tobias said with a laugh.

“Hey,” Glade snapped. “Don’t.” Glade’s former title was a bit of a sore spot for him and he shot a sharp look at Tobias to remind him who was still in charge, and what lines could be played with. This was not one of those lines.

“Who are they talking about?” Bastion asked. They seemed somewhat confused.

“Are you ok, brother?” Gloria asked.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just a little tired. We’ve been working hard getting people ready to leave. I think I overextended myself. I just need some sleep,” he responded. “But who, again, are we talking about?”

Tobias chimed in. “You remember, the dragonborn that Glade caught the other day. The one with the gash on her side.”

“Mintaka?” Bastion asked.

“You know her name!?” Glade said. He involuntarily leaned in towards Bastion. The act got him a little close to the fire and he recoiled, moving back to his original place on the rubble he was using for a seat.

Bastion’s expression darkened. “Yes. We talked once. She’s been in and out for a few days now. She should be strong enough to leave very soon.”

“Oh, then I’ve only got a couple days,” Glade said, putting his hand under his chin.

“I think it would be best if you left this one alone, Glade,” Bastion said, his eyes seeming to pulse with the words.

“Look, I know we’ve got more important things to do,” Glade began “But something about her really… I don’t know. She seems special.”

“You have no knowledge of this woman, nor her past or personality. Until moments ago, you did not even know her name. Yet she is now special?” Gloria asked.

“Hey, who are we to judge? Love can bloom anywhere,“ Tobias said,“ I mean, just look at Bastion here. His dad fell in love with a demon queen, and vice versa. I say, give it a shot. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Plenty,” Bastion said. “Glade, I do not want to tell you what to do with your life but I really do not think you are her type.”

“And how would you know?” Glade asked. “Did you have a heart to heart with Mintapa?”

“Mintaka,” Bastion corrected. “And yes, of a sorts. She will be leaving as soon as she is able. I highly encourage you to let this go. We have… more important things to worry about right now.

“Alright Bastion. I’ll think about it,” Glade said. He took a bite of bread, washed it down with water he was pretty sure was safe to drink, swallowed and took a deep breath. “Anyway, does anybody know what kind of flowers dragonborn like?”

Tobias laughed, giving his captain a high-five. Gloria chucked and rolled her eyes before tearing off a hunk of searing meat she had been burning in the fire. Bastion just stared at Glade, the fire casting an orange glow on his dark eyes. The night went on, just like that, until they all gave into sleep.

—

Mintaka woke up in the same spot she had been for a few days, the floor of the destroyed school. She had begun to start walking by herself recently, had even managed to find a place to relieve herself, but she always came back to the same spot. The blanket that she slept on was uncomfortable, and she could have easily found another, or even a few more to stack, but she didn’t. This dirty sheet was hers, and it currently marked her place in the world. She was probably strong enough to make her way home by now but she had delayed, making her injury seem like it was still quite painful when Bastion came to check on her. The second she decided to move the sheet, she would have to get back to her old life. She would have to face her partner, she would have to answer questions about where she had been, she would have to fight, she would have to stretch her wings and rain fire upon this city again. For now, the blanket and floor seemed more comfortable than that.

She sighed heavily, thinking about how exactly she would handle the next few days. She stretched out long, letting out a lengthy yawn. This dragonborn form was a little cramped and she looked forward to getting back into her true skin. This form did have its perks though, she quite enjoyed wearing clothes, even while she slept, the feel of the cloth on her scales was comforting, like the embrace of a loved one that was near impossible when she was a towering dragon. Also, when she was in her true form, small details were easy to miss, and observing the minutiae of the room had become something of a habit. She thought of the map and turned over to her side, desiring to daydream about different places before she spent the rest of the day on the floor. What she saw was not the map but a pair of knees.

“Good morning!” she heard from above the knees.

Instinctually, she struck out with her fist, clobbering the cheek of the unknown leg monster. He and his knees sailed sideways, rolling into another person sleeping on the ground. The ensuing confusion was hard for Mintaka to parse, as limbs and blankets made it look like some sort of balled flesh monster was writhing on the floor. A few seconds later and the armored knee-owner was on their feet, apologizing to the aged man on the ground.

Mintaka had felt awful, just for a moment, for striking whoever it was so hard but now, she smiled. It was the bald one, Glade; though some of his hair had begun to grow back, making him look a little fuzzy. She had punched him hard enough in the face that his lip was bleeding. He had a red mark that would bruise and her first instinct was to go in for more. She could beat him bloody, then kill him, then… slowly turn into a living statue. Bastion the bastard would not take the death of his friend so easily.

She stifled her anger, her desire to rip this man apart, and took a deep breath. Gathering all the willpower she had inside, she managed to push one word past her lips.

“Sorry,” she said. It tasted bitter but there was a strange sense of relief with it as well. It was almost sweet. That aftertaste surprised her.

“No, no. I shouldn’t have surprised you,” Glade said.

Mintaka pulled again on her willpower. She could survive this, she just had to keep a level head. She wasn’t expecting to see Glade, wasn’t expecting to have to restrain herself that much before she left. It was her own fault for staying so long. Still, she could do this. She thought about her next words carefully as she stood up.

“Were you watching me sleep?” she said, in a tone she did not expect. There was obvious anger in her voice and the word ‘sleep’ came out like a threat.

“Yes,” Glade said, then fumbled the next few attempts at words. “I, er, no, I mean, yes, but not like watching watching. I was only here for, no- that’s not. OK, sorry.” Glade paused and took a breath. “Sorry, my name is Glade.” He took a step away from the angry man on the ground and reached his hand out towards hers.

She hesitated and stared down at his hand for a moment before pushing she reached her own hand out as well. “Mintaka,” she said.

He gently grabbed her hand and turned it upwards while bowing his head, as if he were some noble knight greeting a princess. He said “Lady Mintaka,” with the gesture.

Mintaka felt a pulse of heat in her chest at the motion. In that brief moment, with his head bowed and her hand in his… he was completely defenseless. She could tear his bald head right off. Remaining calm may be far more difficult than she expected.

Right as temptation began to overwhelm her, the door opened and Bastion stepped in. Glade rose, quickly pulled his hand away, and turned towards the nephilim. Mintaka was positioned slightly behind Glade now and she could see the blush building in his cheeks.

“Bastion. Hi, I, uh, was just checking on Mintaka. Right?” He turned to face her, cheeks, nose, and forehead overcome with the blush.

Mintaka stood there for a few agonizing seconds, her head tilted to the side, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Was Glade afraid of this cleric as well? Wait, was she afraid of him too? The thought rattled around in her head before Glade interrupted it.

“Right, Lady Mintaka?” Glade said, teeth clenched.

The ‘lady’ part of his question gave her mixed feelings she decided to dwell on later.

“Right,” she said. “I’ve been trying to walk on my own. Glade was… helping me,” The lie came easily enough, letting her know the cleric wasn’t pressing any of his magic on them, right now at least. That sparked an idea in her mind, one that wasn’t fully developed yet but began to grow in her mind.

“Glade. We talked about this,” Bastion said with a stern voice matching his face.

“We did,” Glade responded, “and I made the executive decision to ignore you.”

“Everyone here needs our help,” Bastion said, his expression remaining the same.

“You’re right! Everyone, including Lady Mintaka,” Glade shot back.

There it was again. ‘Lady.’ What was this fool getting at? Who was he trying to impress? Was it Bastion? Was it her? What game was he playing? Had Bastion told him the truth? No. That couldn’t be it. She was afraid of the cleric but only because of his honesty. His word meant something, meaning she was sure she would die if he decided to unleash the curse inside her but it also meant he would keep her secret. That chump. The idea from before began to solidify.

“Mintaka,” Bastion said, turning to face her. “You remember our conversation as well?”

Her mind raced, this was the make or break point. “I do,” she said.

“And?” Bastion said.

Mintaka did not want to go home but, as it was, there was no way for her to stay here. She looked at Glade, he smiled genuinely at her, an action that she loathed and… adored? Maybe she could stay a while longer if she played along. As long as Glade continued his buffoonery, there’s no way Bastion would release the curse. She just had to play her cards right to keep the cleric from revealing her secret. He had made a mess for himself by not telling everyone the truth; and Mintaka had learned quite a bit about deception. She could use this.

“I’ve thought about your offer and you’re right,” She said with a grin. “I’ve decided to stay and help, just like you said. As long as I’m able, I should do all I can to help those who aren’t.” Her smile broadened as Bastion’s face grew dark. “Thank you for all your care, I’m feeling much better now. Glade, can you show me what needs to be done?”

Glade’s face lit up and he even bounced a little. “Absolutely!”

“Glade!” Bastion shouted. His face had dropped and soured when Mintaka offered to help but he had recovered it to a teeth-grinding expression.

“What Bastion?! She’s willing to help, you know we can use all the hands we can get.”

Bastion shot Mintaka a look of fury, she responded with a confident eyebrow raise, daring him to make his next move. Fools and chumps, the whole lot.

Bastion let out a long sigh. “Just, be careful,” he said.

“Don’t worry, Lady Mintaka is going to take it slow for now, right?” Glade said as he looked at her.

She smiled back at him. “Of course. How can I help?”

“That’s not…” Bastion started before he gave up the thought with a sigh.

Glade grabbed her hand softly, then looked up at her expectantly. The heat of his fingers through his gloved hand was more intense now and Mintaka pulled back, reflexively. She looked into his eyes, into the soft desire and anticipation within, and put her hand firmly back into his. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

“Come with me,” Glade said with a large grin. “We can start by fetching some clean water and handing it out. Do you think you can handle that?”

“I-I think so,” Mintaka said. Was her sudden apprehension because of what remained of her injury, from Bastion’s glare, or from the heat in her heart?

Regardless, she moved with the tug of Glade’s hand, out the door, away from her blanket, the map, and Bastion. Halfway down the hall, near an exit door, she looked back towards the room to see Bastion staring at them both. She smiled, deviously. She wasn’t sure exactly where things would go from here but for right now, she was living out a childhood dream, though not quite as she expected. She was a princess, a ‘lady,’ guarded by a handsome, if somewhat charred, knight, from a terrible demon. Her heart fluttered with excitement and fear as they broke through into the sunlight outside.

—

“Where is she!?” Essentia shouted into the empty lair. It did not respond. Shadows in the corners let out long tendrils, retreating at her glance. She grabbed a ‘priceless’ vase and smashed it on the ground. Then, continuing her rage, she picked up a few satchels of gold and threw them as hard as she could, which wasn’t far. Finally, she concentrated on her magic for just a moment, pulling a half-melted suit of armor together just so she could ineffectually punch it. It blew apart rapidly, reacting to another small bit of explosive magic she had placed inside. All this, and the rage was only brought to a simmer, down from the volcano it once was. She felt small, she felt powerless, she felt unwanted. The shadows swirled at the edge of her vision.

Was she dead? No, probably not. She had gone off on her own for a day or so before and always came back apologetic, as she should. But that wound… it was deep and Essentia could feel some sort of magical energy coming off of it. That idiot, Mintaka, how could she just leave? How could she just leave her here? She knew how hard it was for Essentia, how hard she was trying to be better. All this rage, this fear, this loneliness she was feeling, it was all because Mintaka left. It was her fault that Essentia was acting this way, it was her fault that the dark corners of the lair were creeping in on her. The clouds in her mind, they would go away, the second she could just see Mintaka. She had to find her. She had to hold her. She had to scream at her. She had to make her feel the way Essentia was feeling right in this moment, only then would she understand how much Mintaka had hurt her. Essentia deserved an apology and then, maybe, she would wrap her arms around her loving dragon and all would be right again. Maybe.

If she wasn’t dead, where was she? Was she being held captive? Not a chance. She was a powerful dragon, or semi-powerful at least. She may be able to burn down a city and slaughter dozens of knights but Essentia was the one that guided those actions, made them important. It was only because of Essentia that they had both made it this far, she knew that. So why had Mintaka been gone so long!? There’s little chance anyone could hold her, especially if she removed the polymorph cloak. If someone tried to take that off her, they were in for a nasty surprise. So, if she wasn’t dead, and wasn’t captured, she must have been staying away from Essentia on purpose. She said she would come back, though. She said…

“That liar!” Essentia screamed into the shadows of the cave. It made them recoil, it made her mind clearer, even if just for a moment.

“That lying, deceiving, wretch!” Essentia screamed. “How dare she leave me here! Doesn’t she know how much this hurts!?” Essentia breathed deeply to let out another scream but gas caught in her throat, producing a weak burp instead. It tasted like acid.

When was the last time she ate? Yesterday? A week ago? It was when Mintaka left, right? Right. Essentia was going to wait until she got back, she was going to make them a big dinner. It would all blow over, Mintaka would forget the words, forget the fight. The shadows in the corners would retreat, beaten back by a delicious meal between lovers, lit by a single candle. It's what they both deserved. So, then, four days ago, maybe five. Essentia had gone without food longer than that, she could wait a few more days.

A shower then, that would clear the mind. No. She didn’t deserve one. She was filthy, rotten to her core, a shower wouldn’t wash away any of that, it was just masking her, hiding her true self. That’s what Mintaka wanted, she couldn’t handle Essentia when she was honest and true, only when she was bathed, holding her tongue, fake and flowery…

“I’m fine just the way I am, thank you!” Essentia said to a mirror. When did she come here? Where exactly had they hung this one? Essentia couldn’t remember right now. She stood staring at herself, waiting. She grimaced and shouted into the mirror. “Well!? What are you waiting for!?”

She expected something, anything. Nothing happened. There was no magic in the frame, no evil twin on the other side, just her reflection. “Say something!” she shouted into the glass. Nothing happened. No words of wisdom came from her reflection, no words of derision, nothing at all. She ripped it from the wall and slammed it on the ground. The shards of reflective glass skittered along the ground, casting bits of light all around the room. She was in their bedchamber? Linens hung from the rock ceiling, shelves of books and knick-knacks were scattered about, a massive bed beside a ‘reasonable’ pile of gold sat next to each other. The resting places made Essentia remember the heat of Mintaka’s breath, each huge exhale warming the entire space, the pressure of it relaxing Essentia in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Sometimes, during the night, they would share their spaces but the gold was hard for Essentia to sleep on. More often, Mintaka would grab the robe of polymorph and crawl into the assortment of blankets and pillows. She had asked Essentia, on more than one occasion, to use her magic to join her on the pile of gold, that they might share the night together as dragons. Excuses and lies were most of what Essentia offered in reply. The cloak was not strong enough to turn the wizard into a dragon and could really only move a creature down the power scale, rather than up. In reality, it was only barely more powerful than some of the illusion magic Essentia could create, and that wasn’t saying much. Essentia had a few powerful spells but she had learned early on that a fireball was not nearly as useful as a spell that beguiled the mind. Those were easier, less costly, and more devastating in the end.

She did try turning into a dragon, once, just to shut the idea down. Sneaking away some of their gold, she was able to locate a merchant who just happened to have a few scrolls of polymorph, powerful ones, more than Essentia could manage on her own. She stashed two away and used up one to embrace her love that night. In their coupling, Essentia made sure to scatter the gold as best she could, hoping that Mintaka would not notice what had gone missing. She still did, somehow, and though she never mentioned it, Essentia could see it in her eyes. If only she wasn’t so sensitive, so obsessive over her gold! Essentia knew Mintaka could feel the disturbance as they slept separately the next night, less a dragon on a pile of gold and more like a princess feeling the pea under her mattress. Oversensitive, judgemental, Mintaka was full of negative traits but Essentia loved her anyway.

It was better if Mintaka just used the cloak, like she had when going for that damned walk, “Nearly a week ago!” Essentia shouted, finishing her thoughts in the air.

She could feel the darkness creeping in again, from the corners and into her mind. If she could only find her, she could have the robe back. Then what? Wait, no, she had it backwards. She didn’t have to find Mintaka, she just had to find the robe. If anyone had taken it from her love, she would fill the offender’s brains with bugs. If Mintaka still had it then… then the shadows would clear. She could do this.

She reached down and picked up a few shards of glass and walked to one of the shelves for her spellbook. The robe would make this easy. It had been some time since she had used divination magic to find Mintaka, something she hoped she wouldn’t have to do again. She had hoped Mintaka would realize how much the separation hurt them both, how much Essentia needed her. When she found her, she would need to make sure she remembered that lesson, permanently this time. The shadows still hung over her, creeping into her eyes now, but with her love returning soon, she could bear their weight a little longer.

—

They made it to one of the few remaining wells in town within a few minutes. Glade held tight to Mintaka’s hand the whole time, dedicating a substantial part of his brain to the exact pressure needed to make it seem like he was just guiding her but hopefully indicating that maybe it could be more. She didn’t seem to mind, even when the sweat waked it way through his gloves. Thankfully, by the time that happened, they were at one of the few remaining wells and already pulling water up. The other part of his brain was occupied with the persistent thought of what exactly to say when they got there. When he pulled the first bucket up, he finally had it figured out.

“So, here’s water for mouths.” He said. His mind immediately protested. What did he just say!? He had to fix it, to recover somehow, to avoid this disaster he was heading towards.

Mintaka laughed, despite herself. “That’s usually where it goes.” She chuckled again. It felt good to laugh, especially at this man.

“So,” Glade said, before clearing his throat with a cough. He had this, he was a strong and confident leader. He could handle small talk with… the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. “Do you like food?”

Mintaka laughed again, this time creating a small snort with her snout. Glade smiled broadly at that and her demeanor immediately soured. Was he mocking her? Glade made a slight grimace, then plunged the bucket back in the well for more water.

Mintaka thought about his question and the odd way he asked. Was this a trick? A trap? Was he just nervous? Was that cute? Was it something she should hate him for? How could she answer in a way that wouldn't make the moment even more awkward?

Glade screamed inside his head. “Do you like FOOD!?” he thought in a mocking tone. He sounded like a fool! She must think there’s something wrong with him. This was a nightmare! Of course she liked food! He took a deep breath and tried again.

“I mean… what kind of food do you like?” He said, relieved that something finally had come out sounding sensible.

Mintaka’s brow furrowed. Again with the questions! What was this knight after? What did he want her to say? The blood of my enemies, the tears of those families I’ve ruined, your head on a platter? Those would have been good answers, maybe even funny. Ah, why not mess with him a little?

“The blood of my enemies,” she said with mock bravado.

Glade didn’t turn away from the well, he just kept pulling up the bucket. For a second, she thought she might have scared him but then she heard a small sound escape him, a hissing that turned into a chuckle and into a laugh. His shoulders shook as he tried to maintain his strain over the rope and he began to fail. Mintaka moved forward, his laugh bringing a smile to her face as well. She grabbed the rope, feeling her smile turn into a laugh. Both of them tried to finish getting the water up together, hands slipping over wet rope, bodies struggling against the laughter that was overtaking them, minds doing everything they could to keep composure in the unabashedly absurd moment. They failed, the rope slipped, sending the bucket crashing into the water below. As it broke the surface, both of them felt the tension between them release. The laughing continued for a solid minute, until a sudden stabbing in Mintaka’s side stopped her.

“Sorry, you caught me off guard there. Are you,” Glade started before he had to stop to readjust his sore face and regain his breath. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Mintaka said, pulling the hand from her side and adjusting her face as well. “Maybe not ready for something that… vigorous.”

Glade blushed and she could sense his mind slip into murky thoughts. She smiled at him. Maybe honesty was the best policy.

“Peaches,” she said softly. “I love them. I always wanted to grow them but…” she trailed with her own thoughts for a moment. She smiled and then held out her thumbs. “Red scales, red thumbs. Not good for growing much of anything.”

Glade’s smile broadened, cradling his eyes with serene joy. “Let’s talk to Gloria, she’s a friend of mine and surprisingly good with plants. Sometimes I think she likes them more than us. Maybe she could give you a few pointers.”

The offer excited her in a way she wasn’t expecting. Grow… plants? After all this time, maybe she could. Wait, no. Something didn’t feel right, this all felt surreal. She needed an anchor, rage or fury to temper her mind. Mentally checking herself, she found the anger inside had subsided completely and she reflected on this for just a moment. Its absence troubled her and she tried to pull on it again but found it too far down to reach. It had always been there, just under the surface, how had it fallen so low? She looked over at the well and grabbed the rope. It felt dry at this end and she began to pull it up. The weight of it hurt her side slightly and she hoped dragging the bucket up might cause some more intense pain to arise again. The pain came as expected but no anger came up with the bucket. She hesitated for a moment, confused at how quickly things had just changed. Glade saw her pause and tried to help but she brushed him away and continued pulling the rope. When she finally brought the bucket up to the edge of the well, it was empty. Fear shot through her then and she took a small step back.

Glade stepped forward and grabbed the bucket before it fell back down.

“Oops,” he said. “Looks like we broke it. We’ll have to take this one back and fix it. Gloria is also very good with a hammer, she’ll have it fixed in no time.”

Mintaka watched him as he fumbled with the rope knot on the bucket, trying and failing to get it undone. He struggled for a few seconds before shooting her an uneasy smile. “I’m, uh… better with swords,” he said.

Mintaka smiled. “I can tell. Want me to try?” What was she doing?

Glade struggled one last time before relenting and handing the bucket and rope to her. She took it from his hands and glanced up at his face. He was soft, defenseless, and kind. She thought about pushing him down the well but it was only a passing fantasy. Right now, she felt oddly… safe, despite the confusing feeling. She pulled her claws into the knot softly, reaching parts his human fingers couldn’t get to, and gently pulled the knot apart.

“Wow, you’re good,” Glade said.

Mintaka smiled and handed the bucket back. “I’ve taken on a few challenging knots in my time.”

“Oh, cool. So has Gloria. You two might have more in common than I thought. I think you’ll get along great. Let’s go meet up with her and get this fixed before Bastion comes looking for us,” Glade said.

Mintaka smiled. This was different, very different than, well, everything. A few days ago, a few minutes ago, she was ready to slaughter this fuzzy knight, burn the city down, and move on with her life. But this difference, it wasn’t bad, it was almost fun. Maybe… maybe things could be different? Maybe that would be ok? “I’d like that,” she said, taking a deep breath. She felt lighter and smiled at the sensation of the air filling her lungs. She smiled broadly. “I’d like that a lot.”

---

Zombie: And how make feel?

Wizard: Worthless, powerless.

Z: Why need powerful?

W: Then I have something to offer. People will want to stay... they will have to, if they need me.

Z: Seem you need them more.

W: Gah, what do you know?!

Z: Nothing. I baker before you kill me.

Z: I here listen to feelings.

W: I don’t have those.

Z: Even I have.

W: Good for you. This isn’t really helping.

Z: Sorry.

W: You should be. I’m going to have to figure this out on my own, like always.

Z: You a lot.

Z: What do now?

W: I know how to find her, I just don’t know if I want to.

Z: Why?

W: What if she’s already moved on? I know… I know I’m a lot. She might be happier with someone else.

Z: Might be.

W: Excuse you?

Z: You right. Might be happy. You want her happy?

W: …yes.

Z: Then let be happy.

W: *casts fireball*

Z: *dies again*

W: She will never be happy with someone else…

Muddled words and laughter is all Essentia could make out from the mirror shard divination. Where was she? Was she in Eastedge? Why? It didn’t matter. Essentia leaned into the tiny portal. The glass piece was using something reflective near Mintaka but the source kept moving. What was it attached to? Was Mintaka looking at herself in a mirror? No, there was another voice. It was deep but wavering. A guard? Mintaka smiled, she giggled. What was going on!? Who was she talking to!?

“Peaches,” came through the mirror fragment. It was the first clear thing she heard.

Why was she talking about peaches? What a foolish thing to talk about. Who even liked peaches? Essentia pulled the shard to her ear, forgoing any attempt to see into it.

“I’m, uh… better with swords,” was the masculine voice again. What was this? What was Mintaka doing talking to someone?! Was she sneaking around? Did she love the owner of this voice? Obviously she did, that was always what was going to happen! Mintaka would get bored of Essentia, would resent her for who she was, and leave. Essntia knew it would be this way, she was too much to handle, too hard to be with. That’s why Essentia never got too close and it seemed like she had been right to do so. Mintaka was in love with someone else, worse, she had never really loved Essentia. She had seen this coming a mile away and had guarded her heart against the deceiving dragon. It was always going to be this way.

Then why did it hurt so bad?

“I’d like that a lot,” she heard. She would like what? She would like what!? Nobody was going to take Mintaka from her. Nobody. Not even Mintaka herself. Essentia stuffed the shard in her pocket and moved to gather some clothing. It would vibrate when she got closer, she just had to get to the city. She reached for her favorite dress, a long black silk with a flowing bottom and a slit up one side that went to her ribs. She would show Mintaka what she was missing. The shadows creeped at the edges of her vision again. She would win back her love, no matter what it took. She had to, she couldn't be alone again. Not with the dark tendrils playing at her mind. She couldn’t be alone with them, she couldn't be alone with herself, with her own mind. She would show up, dressed to impress, and remind Mintaka what she had.

Wait, no. That wouldn’t work. She had to be sure what was going on. She knew already, she was certain Mintaka had found someone else, but she needed proof. She reached instead for something more discrete, a simple shirt, loose traveling pants, and a cloak. She fiddled with the cloak for a moment, it was not distinct, just brown with black seams, but Mintaka might recognize it. She took scissors to it, set the edges on fire, smeared ash on it. After a few moments, it was mangled beyond recognition. The pants received similar treatment. With any luck, she would pass as one of the hundreds of miserable civilians that still crept around her city.

She walked towards the lair entrance and stopped, she forgot herself, her face, her hair. She could hide in the cloak but what if the hood fell off? What if she lost the cloak altogether? She pulled a small dagger from one of the small piles of treasures they had stashed while she walked. Without slowing, she began pulling down large handfuls of hair and slicing it off. The hair fell easily and Essentia could feel magic in the blade. This might be something worth holding onto. By the time she reached daylight, the knife had found its place in its scabbard, belted around her hips. She looked up to the sky, eyes adjusting to the bright light of the sun.

Only then did she remember she could have cast illusion magic on herself. Oh well, better to save her power in case she had to kill Mintaka’s new lover… or others.

—

Barbarian: Argh! What fool would craft such miniscule warhammers!?

Rogue: They aren’t warhammers, just hammers.

B: I don’t understand.

R: You’re fixing a cart. Not everything is a fight.

B: …

R: *sigh* Quickly! Those nails work for the dragon! Smash them into place!

B: Huzzah!

#DnD

“Damnable!” Gloria shouted before throwing another broken hammer to the ground. She spit out a handful of nails she had been holding in her mouth. “Is there no tool left that can complete its job!?”

“Have you tried asking nicely?” Tobias asked her.

She was hanging upside down, feet clawing tightly onto one end of the wagon while she dangled over the side of the other. A smattering of bent nails and a few broken hammers lay on the floor near her head. Several days ago she traded in her adventuring clothes, little more than furs and underclothing, for a set of cloth-and-hide patchwork overalls. Her medium blonde hair threatened to escape from its series of knots under her cap. To her, the attire was practical but entirely ridiculous looking.

She sighed. “ I do not ask tools to do their job. Just as I should not be required to ask yet again for you to do yours. Where do you obtain these pitiful trinkets, a children’s toy store?” She pulled herself up using only her legs and core with this last statement and turned to look at Tobias.

“A few of them,” he said, picking at his toes. He, too, had traded in his straps and leather and daggers for something a bit more practical. A long shirt, loose fitting pants, an assortment of gloves, and boots that were too hard for his liking. They hurt his feet and had started to rub calluses on the edges of his toes.

“I need a rock,” Gloria mused while looking around. “Perhaps I shall search between your ears.”

“Sorry Gloria,” Tobias said without looking up. “Nothing in there but air and another dagger.”

“A most interesting hiding spot,” Gloria said with a smile.

“Oh, I’ve got tons of them. I have at least six blades on me right now.”

Gloria’s eyes narrowed. “Where?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Tobias said, looking up at Gloria with a grin.

Gloria spun herself sideways, kicking one leg off the wagon and following it quickly with the other leg. She landed with a surprising grace. “No, I don’t believe I do,” she said.

She looked around, past the seemingly endless rows of carts and wagons and wheelbarrows. It had been days since the last dragon attack and most of those who were able to leave Eastedge by themselves already had. Many hundreds still remained though. Those who could not leave on their own due to age, injury, or ability, and those who chose to stay behind with them. It had only been a few days since their battle on the mountain and it would not be long until the next attack; everyone was working on borrowed time. Down the line of carts, a few workers here or there did all they could to fix wagons or load them with supplies. Many of these carts would only make it a few miles but, by then, they should be safe enough to make repairs or let folks go their separate ways. They didn’t have to make it far outside the city, they just had to make it at all.

Gloria searched on the ground, surprised that she didn’t immediately find what she was looking for. As she wandered a little further, she heard Tobias calling out to her but didn’t pay any attention to his words. Her mind was wrapped up on the last dragon attack, on how poorly it had gone, on what it almost cost her. She had spent so long protecting Bastion, she would not lose him to some measly dragon.

Gloria’s brow furrowed as she thought about their current situation. The lack of attacks was strange. The city had been under siege every few days for weeks now. Around a week had passed since their failed trap. Maybe that one strike was enough? Maybe Glade really had killed the beast after all. Maybe that foolish knight had been right and the plan had been worth it, worth the lives lost. Even if he was, she would never say that to his face. His face would bend into that annoying, handsome grin of his. He’d say some kind words and her brain would grow fuzzy again. Gloria found herself smiling and blushing before she shook the thought away forcefully, swaying her head around until it fell out of her ears. There was no future in that fantasy, they both knew that.

Besides, now was not the time to get lost in possible futures and pasts, they could not rely on the dragon being defeated. A smattering of citizens had decided to stay, thinking to rebuild now that the dragon was gone. It could be they were right, but it was too tall a risk to take for many others. Thankfully, the division between the two groups had been mostly mutual, with very few trying to convince the others, outside of a few small family squabbles. Those that wanted to leave were doing all they could to make it happen. They had collected enough food for a few hundred people, probably enough wagons to carry those that couldn’t walk, and Glade had even managed to train a few fiery spirits how to hold a spear. They were crudely trained, something Gloria would fix herself, if she weren't stuck on cart duty.

Gloria’s thoughts came back to her as she found what she needed. She reached down, wrapped her large hand around the fist-sized bit of slag, and smiled. She tossed it up in the air, caught it in her other hand, and tossed it back. It felt heavy, slightly off balance, and free of any sharp burrs. She could kill a man with this, so a few nails should be no problem.

She turned and started heading back to the carts, not realizing she had gone at least a block down and around a corner. When she turned back around said corner, she was surprised to see Glade and someone else standing near Tobias. The rogue was still picking at his feet while Glade seemed to be busy introducing whoever this cloaked figure was.

As Gloria got closer the figure pulled their hands up around their hood and pulled it back, revealing the dragonborn underneath. Gloria’s heart sank for just a moment and she stumbled momentarily in her steps. That’s when Glade looked her way, smiled, and waved. Gloria forced her surprise into a frown. She took a deep breath and continued towards the group. There was no future in those rosy dreams, they both knew that.

“Well, so long as she brings him contentment,” Gloria said to herself.

“Hey, Gloria!” Glade shouted over. “We need you to fix something!”

Gloria shook her head and scoffed. There was always something.

A few more beats and Gloria had made it to the other three, the bit of slag heavy in her hand.

“What have you destroyed this time, Glade?” Gloria asked.

Mintaka handed her the bucket. Gloria regarded it, noting the large hole on one side. “We um…” she started. “Glade told me you were good with a hammer.”

Everyone looked at the pile of broken tools and nails Gloria had left by the cart.

“Ah, always one for hyperbole, Glade. I am indeed skilled at hitting things against other things. Hammers, axes,” Gloria paused for a moment to pull up the slag in her hand for everyone to see, “bits of metal. Each rings true in their own fashion.”

Glade cut in “Gloria, Mintaka. Mintaka, Gloria.”

Gloria dropped the bucket and held out her free hand. It was rough, covered in dirt and likely some blood. She hesitated, rubbed it on her overalls, and held it out again. Mintaka took it heartily and gave a small squeeze. There was power in the grip, something Gloria was surprised and pleased to feel.

“Yes, Bastion told me of you. He informed me you suffered a grievous wound. I trust Glade is not forcing you to overextend yourself.”

A bit of surprise came over Mintaka’s face. “Oh, Bastion is your… brother?”

“Different mother, same father. I’ve been guarding his posterior since our youth,” Gloria said.

“Oh,” Mintaka said and then hesitantly asked “Are you two close?”

“As we still travel together daily, I would assume so. Though, to be frank, Basion is somewhat hard to read. I believe our bond to be powerful, yet he may have a differing opinion. You could question him yourself.”

“I don’t… I think he and I may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Mintaka said.

“That’s our Bas for you,” Tobias cut in.

“What?” Mintaka asked.

Glade spoke up now. “Bastion is… intense sometimes.”

“He has a strong sense of morality. In many cases, this has proven to make our lives more difficult but, with hindsight, he is rarely in error.” Gloria said. “Had we heeded his wisdom when first discussing the dragon, it is unlikely we would be in the situation we find ourselves in now.”

“How’s that?” Mintaka asked.

“The dragon ambush,” Glade started. “He was against it from the start. He said we should take smaller caravans, get people out safely, slowly. Instead we set the trap with the gold, with the manacite, and…” he began to trail off.

“We all hold great blame for the failure on the mountain. There is much blood on all of our hands. Bastion protested and we ignored his input.” Gloria said.

“We thought it was the only way,” Glade said. “We had limited time and resources.”

“But the dragon was too much for you?” Mintaka asked. A small smirk teased the edge of her lips.

“Yup,” Tobias said. “It blasted through the manacite and flew away.”

“Glade struck a sound blow with an enhanced blade but it was likely not enough,” Gloria said.

“Well, there hasn’t been an attack in about a week,” Glade said meekly. “Maybe it was?”

“I doubt a single cut would be enough to take down a powerful dragon,” Mintaka said. “But maybe it was enough to… scare it away?”

“You think so?” Glade asked. There was a twinge of hope in his voice.

Mintaka gestured at her dragonborn face. “I do know a few things about dragons,” she said with a smile.

The adventurers chuckled.

“I think…” Mintaka said and then started to stare up at the sky. Small clouds were forming above, blocking out the afternoon sun and causing the temperature to slowly drop. She could feel rain gathering in the air, tempting either a downpour of a drizzle. “I think it at least gave the dragon something to consider. It might think twice about its actions in the future,” She looked down at the trio and smiled. “At least they’ll know better than to take on such brave and powerful warriors.” With the last word she leaned into Glade, giving him a gentle shove.

Glade beamed and Tobias chuckled.

“I think she might be trying to butter you up,” Tobias said to Glade.

“I concur,” Gloria said.

Glade’s face soured.

“What is it that you seek from him?” Gloria asked directly.

“I, uh, I don’t-” Mintaka stammered.

“Don’t mind her,” Tobias said. “She’s just a little protective. It’s nice to see Glade smile a bit. If he likes you, I like you,” Tobias said. He hopped down from the cart and adjusted his clothes. “It’s going to rain soon. I don’t want my fancy work-clothes to get soaked and besides,” he said as he stretched his arms high in the sky, “I think we've put in enough work today. We can work on the bucket around some good food.” He dropped his stretch and sighed heavily, winking at Gloria.

Gloria scowled at Tobias and sighed as well. “Rest would be advantageous. I am quite exhausted.” She began to stretch too.

Glade looked at Mintaka. “Would you like to join us?”

Mintaka paused, obviously caught by the question. “I really should get back to my… uh blanket.”

“Bring it,” Tobias said.

“But Bastion and I-” Mintaka tried again.

“My brother does not bond easily. He guards himself, you are no different. However, I shall put in a series of positive statements for you.” Gloria said.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Glade said “Mintaka wanted to talk to you about plants.”

“That’s not-” Mintaka tried yet again.

“You wish to speak of plants with me?” Gloria asked. She loomed over Mintaka, casting a long shadow beyond the disguised dragon.

“Um… yes?” Mintaka said, almost meekly.

Gloria smiled broadly. “I agree with Tobias, I like you. Nothing would please me more than to discuss horticulture with someone possessing such a fine grip,” Gloria said as she picked up the bucket with one hand and slung her other arm around Mintaka’s shoulders. “Firstly, what have you been able to grow? No, my apologies, that reeks of judgment. Allow me to start again. Are you familiar with the local flora? I’ve heard of medical teas that can be made of the local berries…”

The four of them began walking towards the adventurer’s “house” as the rain began to gently fall on them. Gloria reveled in the walk and the promise of a warm fire and food later. Glade smiled whenever Mintaka smiled, taking in the beauty beside him. Tobias almost pranced, having nothing to add to the conversations and enjoying it that way. Mintaka beamed, letting herself relax around the massive Gloria and finding herself genuinely enjoying her new friend’s strong arm on her shoulder. The night slowly crept in on the wind, rain sputtering a few times before finally starting, but their long laughs and warm smiles kept the chill at bay until they made it home.

—

Barbarian: …then we secured 3 pounds of butter to free them!

Fighter: That’s not how I remember it.

Rogue: Of course not, you were under the spell of the fey.

Dragonborn: You have a habit of biting off more than you can chew, don’t you?

F: I do not.

R: Always.

B: With a certainty.

#DnD

F: I take a cool and calculated approach to everything I do, thanks.

D: No, I don’t think so.

R: Ha! See, they can tell and they barely know you.

F: Care to back up that claim?

D: You’ve been trying to “accidentally” hold my hand for an hour when you could have just asked.

R: Damn! Caught!

B: Subterfuge has never been your strength.

F: Well that’s embarrassing.

D: I’d say.

F: Well… may I?

D: I… um… sure?

F: Oh… nevermind. Sorry.

D: No, I’m… *sigh*

R: Ugh, you two are impossible to watch.

B: I concur.

Cleric: Hey everyone. I’m back.

B: Bastion, welcome back.

C: Sorry I’m la- what are you doing here?

D: Hi Bastion. Glade invited me.

C: Glade, is that true?

F: Yes. What of it?

C: …nothing.

D: I… should go

F: You don’t have to.

C: No, I think they should.

D: I really enjoyed the day with you. Maybe… I’ll see you again?

B: Yes. We will require more assistance tomorrow.

R: Especially Glade.

F: Tobias!

Mintaka stood from the stone “seat” beside Glade and smiled down at him. This day had been sweet… and confusing. She started the morning hating this foolish knight, by enjoying the feeling of her fist on his face, but now she struggled to leave his side. She felt great joy in his smile, and great guilt in that joy. Essentia was still out there, somewhere, probably worried sick. Her lover was unstable, easy to upset, hard and fragile at the same time. If she found out what Mintaka had been doing, she would spiral out, she might get hurt, hurt someone else, or herself. Mintaka shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t be enjoying this. She was hurting Essentia. Yet that smile of Glade’s, it was impossible to escape.

As Mintaka turned towards the hole in the side of the building that used to be a doorway, she began to grow angry. What exactly was it that she was doing wrong? It’s not like she had kissed Glade, not like she was giving her life to him. He was just a dumb knight and his affection was just a cover of protection.

Protection? From what, Bastion? She could just leave, the cleric would honor his word. She was safe from the curse within her so long as she just left. So what was Glade protecting her from exactly?

His affection, she felt it like a blanket over her. It made her feel safe and protected, in a way she hadn’t felt in years. This was foolish, nonsense, just emotions. Still, there was safety in the foolishness. But what was she protected from, what monster was she hiding from? Herself? Her life? Essentia? No, that can’t be right. Essentia loved her, she gave her everything, and what was Mintaka giving her in return right now? Secrets and deception, that’s what.

As Mintaka stepped through the doorway, she looked back only once into the destroyed living room. The small fire danced on the faces of the group within. Bastion scowled at her, the flames casting shadows on his dark eyes and horns. Tobias waved with a large smile, his seemingly oblivious nature betrayed by his sharp eyes. Gloria glanced at Mintaka, then to Glade, then averted her vision to the fire, glassy eyes staring intently at the flames. Glade smiled warmly but a deep sadness pressed on his face. He wanted her to stay, and she wanted to stay too. She couldn’t, this wasn’t right. Essentia had given her everything and Mintaka couldn't even summon the will to walk out of the doorway. She felt like a terrible partner, like a cheat, like a coward. After their years together, after all the fights and love, Mintaka was repaying her loyalty with betrayal, hesitation, indecision. Mintaka looked away from the group, took a breath, and walked back out into the streets.

The rain had come and gone, coating what was left of the city in a damp sheen. The moons reflected light on the hard edges, turning the ruined streets into even more of a maze. Mintaka wasn't exactly sure where she was going either, causing her to grow ever more disoriented. A few times she felt like she was being followed, only to turn and find nobody there. How long has she been walking, lost in her own head? A few minutes? No, it must have been at least an hour. More, maybe? She shook her head clear, trying to concentrate on anything other than the tornado inside her. She had to get her bearings, she had to clear her head, but the more she tried, the harder it became.

Occasionally she would see small fires, worn and scared faces huddling under whatever shelter they could find. Though the rain had slowed to a drizzle, the night remained cold and oppressive. The sight of each new fire made her feel heavy, guilty. The sick, the injured, the weak, this was her work, her responsibility. She had just been doing her job, right? She was supposed to do this, to separate the strong from the weak. She was being a good dragon, a real dragon. Seeing the effect of it here, she didn't feel strong. She felt like a monster.

The sorrowful and accusing eyes, her clouded mind, they all became too much and she started to run. She wanted to get away from the stares, away from the mangled buildings, away from her swirling mind.

She could run as fast as possible back to her lair, back to Essentia, back to what felt right. SHe wanted that. She wanted the safety of the familiar, even if she knew a fight was coming.

The ground was slick but she pushed on hard, completely lost in the broken streets. She ran and, turning a corner hard, hoping to find a way out of the terrible maze, her footing gave in some mud. She fell, arms outstretched to catch herself, but they buckled under the weight of it. She was still weak, still recovering, and the midnight run sapped all she had out of her. She pulled her face up, it was slick with mud and rain. She uselessly rubbed her hands against her face then pulled her sleeve back to wipe away the filth. She tried to look around, to get her bearings, but her vision was blurry and distorted.

A crumbled building shimmered strangely directly ahead of her. It was lying in the middle of the street, sparking slickly in the light of the moons. Mintaka squinted, wiped her hands a few times, and then rubbed her eyes. She began to walk towards the sparkling lights, hoping to recognize it as some sort of landmark. As she got closer and her vision cleared, she began to notice the odd shape of the dark building. It bulged strangely and seemed softer than the material should allow. Rounded edges, broken by sharp… bones?  This wasn’t a building at all.

The shimmering reflections were not glass but instead teeth, eyes, bones. Hundreds of bodies, burnt and broken and piled one on top of the other. Mintaka gasped and took a step back. Was this her work? Who else could it have been? Had she killed so many? This couldn’t be right.

The eyes… the eyes… those that remained and the hollowed out skulls, each looked at her. Each knew. Each saw through her feeble disguise and called out to her. The faces moved in the light, a trick of the shadows or her distorted vision or maybe they really moved. They spoke, calling into her mind.

“Murderer. Killer. Monster.”

Mintaka screamed and released some of the magic in her cloak, sprouting wings again. She flew, soaring away from the pile of her work. As she flew higher and higher, she let more of the magic go. Her neck grew out, her claws filled in, her teeth became elongated swords. The cloak eventually popped off and she caught it in one claw. She was herself, full of power and fury and anguish and hate and sorrow. This felt good, this felt right. She was a mighty dragon, looking down at the tiny burned city beneath her. This was the view she needed, away from the tiny perspective her smaller disguise had pushed on her. She stretched and soared, looping in the night air, feeling the cold mist of the evening on her skin. She felt the old anger well within her. It was deep but she nurtured it, adding fire to the hate and the hurt. Flames licked at her lips from within.

Mintaka was sure nobody knew she was up here, not yet at least. She should grow these flames, rain them down on the city in a final destructive pass. She could fly all night, turning the entire city into a pile of slag and ash. No matter what it took, she could… no, she should end this all tonight. Enough of the charades, enough of the silly game, enough of Glade’s smile.

She pulled in deep, drawing a tremendous breath of fire within her belly. They would be first. Bastion, Gloria, Tobias… Glade. The whole party would burn for what they had done to her. She would sear them out of existence, erase their mark on this world in an inferno. How dare they hurt her! How dare they try to befriend her! How dare they pretend to care! Liars and manipulators. This was a plot, a plan, a ruse of some sort to do… something!

How could they make her feel this way? How could he smile like that!? How… how could he smile at her like that…

Tears welled large in her eyes and the flames beckoned in her throat. She intended to fly, to swoop down and finish what she had started. She would burn out the eyes that thought they knew her, raze the screaming skulls in the pile. She would burn away that idiot grin. She pulled in deep but hesitated, her mind was spinning with all the confused thoughts. She braced again to breathe fire but nothing came out, the fire was trapped behind her teeth.

She couldn’t do it, she wasn’t strong enough.

She pulled her neck back, raised her head into the sky.

Weak. Flawed.

She opened her jaw wide, causing her teeth to shine in the moon.

Fool. Coward.

She pushed the flames, ejecting them into the cold night. They rose into the sky, swirling with the mist and lighting up the entire skyline.

Traitor. Cheater.

The flames came and came and came, and, then, when there was no more, they were replaced with a roar, a scream, a crying pleading sob into the night.

Powerless. Guilty.

The roar gave way to weak wimpers, overshadowed by the sound of her beating wings.

Worthless. Helpless. Sad. Confused. Angry. Scared.

She flew towards her lair, not knowing where else to go. After just a moment she stopped and landed along the treeline. She couldn’t go back. Not yet. Bastion would have seen the flames. She had to… do something. She had to explain, she had to try and fix this somehow. But could’t Essentia fix this? Maybe… but what price would she put on it? This would just be another debt, another fight down the road. No, Mintaka could fix this herself this time.

No. None of that was the real reason. She wanted to see him again, just once more. If only just once more.

She fumbled with the cloak, resting it on her large head and allowing the magic to shrink her back into her disguise. As a dragonborn again, she fumbled with the clasp, finally securing it enough to handle a small walk. She had come from this route before and knew how to get back to the school, back to her blanket.

The walk took only a few minutes, with each step of it threatening to send Mintaka into a spiral of tears. Strangely, they never came. Near town, the sound of a howling animal made her increase her pace. She hustled past the city entrance, past a few more huddled and scared faces, past the store where she hid the guard she killed. She thought about stopping, maybe to apologize. Something inside the abandoned shop moved and hissed, and Mintaka ducked back into the night to avoid whatever animal had taken residence in there.

She found her way into the school again, back into her room. She expected to see Bastion waiting for her but when she opened the door, he was not inside. She crawled onto her blanket, her one anchor in this new world. Turning to her side, she looked again at the map, expecting the tears to come any second. They didn’t. She rubbed her side and tried to internally feel for the curse. Nothing seemed different. If Bastion had let go of his grip on it and had allowed it to spread through her body, she couldn't tell.

Breathing heavily, she looked over at the map. For a long time she scanned over different areas, reimagining all the fantasies she had played out over that map, of all the different lives she had led in her mind. None of them seemed to hold any weight anymore. She was where she was, in a life she had made, in a life she could change. For once, she felt like she was right where she needed to be. Maybe this was a life worth fighting for, no matter how long it lasted. Her eyes closed in exhaustion, leaving her last thoughts to be of that damned knight’s smile.

—

The night air bit into Essentia’s face but, instead of pulling up her cloak to protect against it, she reveled in the pain. This was Mintaka’s fault, this cold air, the stinging on her face, she would answer for it. She had made it to the city hours ago and had immediately gotten lost. Despite their joint attack on the city, Essentia had only come here a handful of times, and all of that before the attacks.

Wandering corners and crawling over rubble, she had begun to exhaust herself. She held the shard in her hand, following its vibrations. It was too dark to see anything through the glass so she was essentially walking blindly through the city. Essentia began to wonder if Mintaka was even here when she heard a familiar sound.

Heavy wings beat the wind above her, maybe a mile or so away from where she was. Essentia looked into the sky, spotting a large shadow in the sky. The figure was fuzzy in the misty night, hard to make out for sure, but Essentia was certain she had found Mintaka.

The haze glowed around the figure, casting a heavy light on them but also obscuring them in a drizzly halo. Then, without warning, the figure let out a blast of flame into the sky. The action was sharp, hard, with more fire than Essentia had seen Mintaka ever make. She smiled to herself, that was her dragon.

When her eyes finally adjusted to the dimming fire in the sky, she felt the power of Mintaka’s roar, even this far away. The night had dulled it somewhat, making it sound quite similar to a thunderclap. Essentia scanned the sky, looking for any shadow of her lover. There was nothing. She could hear the beating wings behind her now but, after just a few moments, they stopped.

Why hadn’t she burned down the city? What stopped her from just finishing the job. Maybe she knew Essentia was here? No, impossible. There must be something she didn’t want to destroy in this city. It must be him.

Essentia smiled to herself. Mintaka would be back, and now all she had to do was wait for her. If Essentia found her, she could tail Mintaka, find out more about who she was seeing. Then, she would slaughter him in front of her. That would teach Mintaka, that would show the dragon how much she meant to Essentia. She might be upset at first but she would understand eventually. Their bond was unbreakable and nothing, not even Mintaka, would come between their love. Mintaka was her dragon.

—

Glade crept around his sleeping compatriots and headed outside. He had to leave his armor, too loud, instead choosing a bit of light clothing and a cloak. He did take his sword, a humble thing he had scrounged from a pile of wreckage that used to be a barracks, just in case. It was unlikely he would have to get into a brawl but wild animals had been creeping into the city and… some people had become desperate. Glade would do all he could to look inconspicuous but anyone traveling at night through the winding city streets needed to keep their wits about them. It would be ok, Glade would be quick.

Stepping through a hole in the wall, Glade was met with the light drizzle of the night. Scattered moonlight pushed through the sparse clouds, giving enough light to travel by. The cold night air quickly relieved any drowsiness Glade was still wiping from his eyes. He had one mission tonight, something that the others would not understand. He had to do this on his own. He lifted his hood, protecting his fuzzy head from the rain, and set out.

For a few moments, he considered going to see Mintaka. A part of him desperately wanted to hear her laugh again.

“No,” he said to the night air. “Give her space. Just be cool, Glade. You’ve only known her for a few… one day. Today. You just talked today. Times are dire, sure. You’ve screwed up a lot recently, sure. So, check yourself here. Take a breath, be cool. Be. Cool.”

Glade took a breath and changed his direction. Despite his peptalk, his feet had begun to lead him towards the school where Mintaka was. What he needed was to keep his mind on his mission, find what he needed as quickly as he could, and then head back for some more sleep.

The first few investigations proved fruitless, literally. Each store and home he ducked into provided nothing but scraps. Scraps of food left in cupboards or on tables. Scraps of clothing left on the floor, not important enough to be packed or, more likely, no one left alive to pack it. Scraps of photos, of books, of letters, stories cut short by an impossibly powerful force. The worst was scraps of people, bits of bodies left for the wolves and worms to get.

Glade was surprised how easy it had been to forget the horrors of this city, to joke and laugh with so much death around them. The feeling wasn’t new, he was experienced with some of the dark humor brought on by tragedy. The crass jokes, the callous dry wit, it was a normal reaction to conflict of this scale. Still, each time he saw it happen, he was surprised with the ease in which people adapted.

Years serving the kingdom of Wellid had harened him to the tragedy surrounding him now. Piles of bodies, quickly ended lives, overwhelming destruction, Glade had seen enough, cried over enough, vomited at the sight of it enough years ago. He wasn’t immune, just resistant. He had seen this resilience twist his compatriots, he had seen them spiral inward, embracing bitter hatred or becoming dead-eyed nihilists. Year ago, he decided not to let himself become the same. When the time came to shut off the emotions, he could do so, but he would not let himself be defined by the hardships of life.

He would laugh, he would adapt. He would live, embrace joy, embrace love, and embrace the pain that came along with it. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself. Maybe he was just bad at his job. After all, he wasn’t a knight anymore, not since…

Glade shook his head, sluffing off the memory.. Now was not the time for self-reflection. He had a job to do. The past was the past, and that’s where it needed to stay.

Glade continued searching, becoming somewhat more disheartened the longer his search went on. His compatriots had fallen asleep rather quickly, or they had at least pretended to. He was almost certain Tobias caught him sneaking out but, if he had, he hadn’t said anything. It was more his style to wait and use the information against him later. Glade was relieved they were on the same side. Still, if any of them noticed, they would be wondering why he was gone for so long.

“No,” Glade spoke again to the night air. “They will know exactly where I am. Or, they will think they do.” His voice changed to a mock-narration tone. “But little did they know, he not with her, he was hunting fo-”

A burst of thunder erupted into the sky. Glade was shaken from his tomfoolery and instinctively looked towards the sound. It wasn’t lightning, it was fire. Fountains of flame pushed into the sky, lighting up the night, all coming from the illuminated shadow that was the dragon.

It was back.

Glade instinctively grabbed his sword and reached for the shield on his back. It wasn’ there. That’s right, he wasn’t wearing his armor. No, wait, that wasn’t right either, the shield had been melted into slag by the dragon. He was practically naked! After his brief hesitation, the flames stopped, replaced by another thunderclap. No, again, wrong. It was a roar, a terrible cry of fury and hate.

Glade dove behind the nearest pile of rubble he could find, expecting another bout of flame to come any second. This was it, the dragon had waited until night to finish the city off. Glade felt foolish for taking so long getting everyone out. He cursed himself for wasting the day with Mintaka. He had killed everyone here just so his heart could flutter a bit. He was no knight, no hero, just a foolish boy playing pretend.

Glade found a small opening in the rubble, a bit of twisted metal surrounding broken glass. It created a sort of mangled peephole that fragmented the world beyond it. Through it, Glade saw the dragon flying in the sky, illuminated by the moon and slick with rain. It thrashed in the sky, twisting and turning as if it were being attacked. It roared, or whimpered? Then, just as quickly as the attack began, the dragon flew away. Its wings beat with a ferocity Glade had never seen and it almost seemed like it was running from a larger predator.

Glade stared at the sky for a long time, wondering at what he just saw. He had trailed the dragon in the air but had lost it somewhere in the night. Still, his gaze was fixed on the place where it vanished into the dark, somewhere south of the city. What was he supposed to do now? Should he get everyone ready to leave right now? There wasn’t an immediate threat but the dragon was behaving strangely. Would it be back? Maybe he should abandon his quest… no. This was important.

Glade let himself sit fully onto the ground and then let out a long and deep breath. He looked again to the spot where the dragon disappeared.

“Important enough to risk everyone’s life?” Glade asked himself.

Glade shook his head, a near habitual action at this point. If the dragon had wanted to destroy the city, nothing could have stopped it this time. Was it giving them a warning? Was it being attacked? Why did it just fly off? What would they even do if it came back? Too many questions and no way for Glade to get any solid answers. He needed to ask the others… after one more check.

“One last shop, then I’ll go back and see what everyone else wants to do,” said to himself. He nodded, agreeing with his decision, even if it was selfish.

Glade ducked into a destroyed shop, steeling himself to make his final stop here, regardless of what he found. It was a wreck, like almost everything in this city, but it had just as much of a chance of having what he sought as any of the other pantries and shops.

Moonlight came in from several holes in the ceiling, rain drained around each crevice and reflected the light strangely, the entire place flickered in bizarre pale shadows. There was a smell in the air, a familiar stench of death and rotting food. Glade placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, instinctively sensing the potential danger here. Wolves and wild dogs had found a great deal of meat within the destruction of the city. Darker things often found themselves in the crevices of events like this and they had been lucky to avoid them thus far. But this smell, even dampened by the rain, made the hair of Glade’s neck rise.

He stepped over a fallen shelf, following the light and smell deeper into the shop. Slowly, he approached what remained of the back counter. On top of it was something that caught his eyes, a small glass jar with a mangled lid. Glade relaxed slightly and stepped into the bit of light illuminating the counter. He lifted the jar, inspecting it. What had done this? It couldn’t have been an animal, they would have just smashed the jar. The lid was ripped open and looked like it had been cut by a knife.

He shifted the jar in his hands, then, lacking any other clues, pulled it up to his nose and sniffed. Peaches, faint but distinct. Bingo.

Glade smiled to himself, this was promising. He looked at the jar, trying to find any clear markings that would help him find more here. The bends and imprinted lettering on the glass shifted the world behind it, making it appear like something was moving behind the counter. No, wait. That wasn’t a trick of the light. There was something there, pressed against the far wall. Glade dropped the glass and grabbed his sword. The jar fell to the counter, rolled to the edge, and fell to the floor, shattering on the impact.

The sounds made the thing in the shadows stop moving. It had sickly pale skin and was wearing age-rotted rags. It was crouched over something, one of its hands resting on the far wall while the other had stopped mid action, holding something close to its mouth. It turned its head at the sound of the glass, looking towards the sound out of the corner of its eyes. Before the hero had a chance to duck, the dark sunken eyes of the thing caught him. It was a zombie, feasting on what looked to be the remains of a guard, though Glade could not get enough details in the second or so before his brain kicked back into action.

Glade hesitated only momentarily before quickly dropping down. Huddled behind the destroyed counter, Glade wracked his brain for what to do next. It had seen him, that much was certain, but it was only a zombie. Where did it come from? Had someone made this abomination or was it just some unlucky soul who traveled here on the wafting smell of death emanating from the city? It didn’t matter, it was just a simple zombie and, even without his armor he could handle this. He grabbed the hilt of his sword, sprang up and turned, ready to face the simple threat.

Glade’s blood drained from his cheeks. The monster was facing him, smiling with a blood covered face mere inches from Glade. The thing had silently crawled up on the counter and sat there, crouching in an inhuman way. It had deep, sunken eyes that shone with a tiny glimmer of abysmal light somewhere far within the skull. Rows of razor sharp teeth filled in a large smile that belied its obvious intelligence. Long gangly arms hung at its side, sharp claws bursting out of the sallow, rotten skin of its hands, draped over the edge of the counter. This was not a zombie, this was a ghoul, and Glade was in serious trouble.

The thing swung at Glade with one of its claws. Glade instinctively pushed himself away from the counter, falling backwards into a roll. He tumbled back, doing his best to translate the energy over the broken floor and debris. When he stopped, he had drawn his blade and was balancing his front leg for stability while bracing his back for a lunge. His eyes adjusted and found the monster, repositioning itself on the countertop. He positioned his sword, ready to land a decisive blow as the creature left for him. He had to get the head off in one swipe, while avoiding taking a single claw swipe. If those claws got him, the fight would be over.

He braced his back foot and, just as the monster lunged towards him, he pushed hard into a lunge at it as well. It didn’t go as planned. Just as Glade pushed off the ground, his back foot slipped, the slick rain mixing with the fine rubble on the floor had created a mud-like consistency almost everywhere. Instead of lunging, he sort of flopped forward, falling flat on his stomach with his sword stretched out before him. Luckily, the movement surprised the ghoul as well, who tumbled over Glade in the air, uselessly trying to swipe at him still. It flopped onto the floor and right into a tangle of rotten clothing.

Glade stood and turned to face the monster. It rose slowly off the ground, some clothes sticking to it. Somehow, it had gotten its arm stuck in the sleeve of an ornate dress. Glade turned his head, puzzling for a moment. Was it a wedding dress? No, just a fine white dress, now stained with blood and mud. The ghoul stood, the dress sticking to its wet body in a way that almost made it seem like the monster was wearing it. Its blood covered face and razor-sharp teeth, combined with the rotting garment, created a terrifying vision. Glade chuckled and wondered if the universe was trying to send him a message.

The creature lunged again but this time Glade was ready. He deftly spun to one side, ducking to the ground with the motion. The ghoul stumbled past him, tripping over itself and the dress. Glade reached out, snagging the end of the cloth, hoping it would hold. He pulled, hard, and the sleeve that the ghoul had managed to push into held together, pulling the creature sideways. Glade turned his blade over, preparing for an upward strike. As the Ghoul stumbled sideways, Glade stood up quickly, using the momentum of his body to cleanly cut through the trapped arm of the Ghoul. It howled a terrible low scream and stumbled away from Glade.

The dress fell from the arm, revealing nothing but a rotting shoulder. There was no blood, just a burbling trickle of black and yellow liquid. Glade began to breathe through his mouth, rather than test whatever smell might be coming from that liquid. He smiled and gripped his sword, this would be over soon. Glade was almost upset this wasn’t more of a challenge.

The ghoul smiled back and suddenly Glade felt wrong. The sword in his hand felt heavy, too heavy. He tried to tighten his grip but it wasn’t enough. The sword fell to the ground and Glade looked at his right hand. A small trickle of blood was falling from it. The ghoul had gotten him with its claws. It was just a scratch but that was all it took. Glade tried to shake it off but could feel the toxin running through his arm, numbing everything it pushed to. In just a few minutes, it would spread through his whole body, leaving him too weak to fight.

“Well, this is bad,” Glade said.

The ghoul hissed, short sharp breaths that almost sounded like laughter.

Glade was lucky. The cut was small, meaning the exposure to the toxin was also small. Had he gotten a full claw strike, he would have already been paralyzed and, likely, already gored. He probably still had a few minutes of fight left in him. Just enough, but only if he was clever… and lucky. He bent down to pick up his sword with his other hand and collapsed forward.

He turned his gaze to his leg, seeing a small cut in the fabric of his pants. Glade cursed himself for not noticing, for letting his armor make him lazy. If he were better equipped this fight would actually be a fight, and not the slaughter it was quickly turning into. He looked up as the ghoul, who was no longer laughing but still smiling. The creature stepped forward, placing its foot on the flat of Glade’s blade, right in the middle. Glade’s mind splintered off on thoughts of ghouls. They were typically simple undead, ferocious but mindless. This one was behaving differently, it seemed almost smart. It was savoring this moment, savoring the fear of its prey. It was toying with him now.

Glade pushed himself backward with everything he had. He was moving towards the counter, hoping to find something, anything that might help. He backed up to the wall, or what was left of it, right next to the dead body the ghoul was feasting on earlier.

‘Oh, great,” Glade said to the corpse. “Guess we’re in this together now, buddy.”

His body was slowing down, making even breathing difficult. The ghoul was still slowly approaching, long teeth shining in its moonlit smile. Then, it stopped, suddenly and with intent. Glade listened, hearing hurried footsteps beat just outside the store. He wanted to scream, to cry out to whoever he could for help but he stopped himself. Unless it was Gloria, whoever tried to help him would die trying. Instead, he took the time to look over again at the dead body beside him while the ghoul hissed and shifted to investigate the noises.

The monster walked to the wall, poking its head into a crack in the wall, and continued hissing.

The dead body beside Glade was, in fact, that of a guard. They looked young, at least, what was left of them. Their insides were now outsides and their neck appeared to have been torn out. Glade felt a pang of sadness for the lost life and briefly wondered if more of these creatures had taken out more guards in this way. He pulled up his left arm, clumsily groping around for any weapon he could find. The tangled mess of entrails and torn up armor, a mix of leather, plate, and chainmail, made the task an arduous one. A sword, no, a broken bow, no, a dagger, maybe. He couldn’t cut off the ghoul’s head but maybe, if he was lucky, he could scrabble its brain. It wasn’t a good plan but it was all he had.

The monster hissed again and the footsteps hurried on their way, moving past the destroyed shop and out of earshot quickly. Good, no more victims tonight. The ghoul stopped hissing and popped its head around the corner of the counter, almost comically, just as Glade was able to hide the dagger under his thigh. He was weak, feeling almost like he was dreaming. He had to end this quickly.

The monster crept forward, dragging the seconds into an eternity. Glade braced himself for his next move and pretended to be fully paralyzed. He watched as the thing raised its right, and only, arm into the air. With a swift strike and a smile it swung at Glade. The knight flopped right, narrowly missing the claws but dropping directly into the dead guard’s lap full of organs. The monster tried to pull back to strike again but found its long claws stuck in the tangle of armor and bones of the corpse it was just feasting on. It pulled hard again then began to thrash for a moment as Glade twisted himself onto his back. The ghoul gave up on its hand, instead deciding to simply bite Glade to death. It opened its terrible maw wide, far wider than any human mouth could comfortably go, and pushed its face down towards Glade.

Using what power he had, Glade swung his left arm up, planting the dagger firmly in the roof of the ghoul’s mouth. It screeched and thrashed and bit but Glade was able to hold true, using the monster's own movements to scramble its brains. Its teeth raked across his arm but the dagger kept it from biting down completely. It convulsed, vomited a spew of half chewed organs and bile onto Glade, and continued screaming. After a few seconds, it slowed, only shaking every few seconds as its eyes rolled back in its head. Then, it collapsed, falling squarely on the vomit covered knight. Glade tried to get up but the toxin had spread through his whole body, forcing him to use every bit of his strength just to breath. He couldn’t fall asleep now, without deliberate action, he might stop breathing altogether. He would just have to ride out the night, ride out the toxin, covered in bile, being hugged by a ghoul, with his head in the bloody lap of a days-dead corpse. He was lucky, at least he could still breathe.

So much for getting back to his friends tonight. So much for warning everyone about the dragon. So much for his quest.

Glade tried to shift himself to be a bit more comfortable, not that he could feel much of his body anyway. Still, when the toxin cleared and he could move again, probably by the morning, he wanted to avoid as much cramping as he could. Turning his head towards the counter, his fuzzy vision caught something glimmering. He blinked a few times, a monumental act, and cleared his vision. There, on its side inside the destroyed counter, was a glass jar. The same kind of jar he had seen on the counter. He squinted, glaring at the object and forcing his eyes to adjust. Small slices, looking like yellow half moons, had settled on the side of the overturned container. Peaches.

Glade sighed, another monumental effort. Finally, his quest was over. He had come out tonight looking for peaches, determined to find some for Mintaka, and he had done so. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this hero thing after all.

---

Succubus: Hey. DIngus. Wake up.

Cleric: Ugh, wha-, why are you here?

S: Can’t I check in on my little brother from time to time?

C: No, you can’t. What do you want?

S: Did you know your friend’s girlfriend is really a dragon?

C: Yes I’m… handling it.

S: Not very well, she’s out there blowing fire into the sky.

C: What!?

S: Relax, she just blew a few flames in the air and then went to bed.

C: Was anyone hurt!?

S: Are you even listening? She blew fire in the air and went to bed. If she killed anything it was a few bats.

C: Oh… weird.

S: Not really. You all really messed with her head.

C: I’m here cleaning up the mess she created. I don’t care if we made her feel bad about that.

S: Harsh, bro.

C: People are dying.

S: …

C: …

S: …like, in general? Yeah, people are dying everywhere all the time. Did you forget where your power comes from?

C: That’s different.

S: Because you filter it through mom?

C: …

S: Oh. My. Me! That’s why you haven’t killed her yet! You’re doing a “we’re not so different” thing. Oh, Bas, you’re so cliche.

C: I believe in second chances.

S: Sure you do. You’re so much like your daddy.

“Don’t talk to me about him,” Bastion said with a sour tone.

“So sensitive. That’s cute,” Ash said with a mocking smile.

Bastion looked around, counting the sleeping bodies near him. He quickly saw Glade’s empty blankets. His armor was sitting a few feet away from where Glade rested and his sword was notably gone.

“Where is Glade?” Bastion asked.

“Dunno,” Ash said. “I followed that girl for a while and when I came back he was already gone. I suppose he went for a midnight visit. Boy, won’t he be surprised!”

“Mintaka,” Bastion said.

“What?”

“Her name. It’s Mintaka.”

Ash floated about the room, infernal magic holding her succubus frame aloft. She made a small loop, scanning the room and ignoring Bastion for a moment. She picked up a bone from Gloria’s plate, smelled it, and set it down with a grimace.

“So… Mintaka” Ash said and then clicked her tongue a few times and looked at Glade’s empty bedroll. “Does he know she’s a dragon?”

“Hush!” Bastion spat. He motioned to his remaining sleeping friends.

“Oh relax. I put a little extra magic in their sleep.”

“You did what!?” Bastion shouted.

“I mean, you could still try to keep it down. If you should loud enough to wake the dead then-”

“If you hurt them-” Bastion cut in.

“Oh, relax,” Ash cut back.. “I wouldn't hurt your friends,” Ash paused, took in a small sharp breath, and added with mock derision “or your sister. I figured they would be tired from all this… adventure so I just made sure they got a good night’s rest. They’ll wake up in the morning just fine, maybe even better than fine. I do tend to give people a very restful night.”

Bastion glared at his half-sister, not exactly sure what to do next.

“Why are you here? What do you want?” Bastion asked.

“What happened to your cute friend?” Ash asked, ignoring the question. “The one with the beard and the singing?”

“Vant? He left after the dragon fiasco. I don’t know where he is.”

“Too bad,” Ash said with a soft sigh. “I’ve always wanted to try him out.”

“Gross,” Bastion responded. “Now, why are you here?”

“Can’t I just come hang out with my little brother?” Ash asked.

“No,” Bastion said flatly.

“Fine, you got me. Mom asked me to check in on you. Remember the whole ‘collapsing after lunch’ thing you did?”

“I’m fine,” Bastion said.

“No, actually, I think you might be really sick,” Ash said. “I’ve been here for a few days now, just watching you.”

“When?” Bastion asked.

“Always.”

“Again, gross.”

“Eh, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

“More gross.”

“No, what’s gross is how you haven’t told everyone what’s going on with you. How long will you keep them in the dark?”

Bastion’s face dropped, blood draining from his cheeks. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Ash said back. “The manacite in your gut. The manacite growing in your gut. How long were you planning on hiding that?”

“I…” Bastion started. “What exactly did you want me to tell them? ‘Hey everyone, I’m dying and there's nothing you can do about it. Also, every time I heal someone, the manacite grows and my death draws nearer. Oh, also, remember that plan I hated? Yeah, that’s why I’m dying. When the dragon blew it off their face, a small shard embedded itself in me. How do you feel about my blood on your hands, Glade? You and your girlfriend will literally be the death of me.’ It’s not like anyone else can do anything about it anyway,” Bastion said with a defeated tone.

“Well, yeah. Tell them that. That all sounds great,” Ash said. “Besides, maybe they can do something?”

Ash had finally stopped trailing the room and had settled in a crossed-leg position floating just above the floor in front of Bastion.

“It’s too deep, too large. I didn’t notice it until after I came back from mom’s. Every time I’ve healed someone, each spell I’ve cast, it’s grown. There’s no way to remove it without magical intervention now, and it's just as likely to hurt them, cause it to grow more, or just outright kill me now” Bastion said.

“What about mom?” Ash asked.

“Are you serious?” Bastion asked.

“Yes,” Ash said flatly.

Bastion turned his head sideways in confusion. He had always imagined Ash as a know-it-all, and for good reason. She often did, in fact, know it all. This hole in her understanding was either genuine or some ten-steps-ahead kind of ruse. Bastion sighed, it didn;t matter which one it was, he would spell it out either way.

“Manacite responds to and grows from magical energy. If she tries to touch it, it will grow exponentially. She’s like… all magic. The second she puts her direct power into it, it's all over for me, and maybe even for her. I’m not even sure if I can get near her any more.”

“What if I-” Ash said as she reached her hand towards Bastion’s side.

Bastion slapped her hand away quickly. “Don’t touch me!” he shouted. His face was full of anger and hers was full of shock. His expression softened, as did his voice. “It’s the same for you. If you get too close… there’s nothing anyone can do.”

Ash’s face dropped into a pouty frown, then to a genuine one. It was a rare expression for her, one Bastion had rarely ever seen.

“Oh, Bas. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Bastion looked at Ash’s face, then to her feet, then to the floor, before finally resting his gaze in his own lap. He knew what was coming, that his life would end sooner rather than later, and he thought he had accepted it. But now, having to lay it all out, part of him wanted help. He felt the voice of a child, a deep part of himself, screaming against the inevitable. He wanted someone, anyone, to take this from him. He wanted to find a way out of this trap. He wanted his mommy. A few tears ran down his face and he sniffed once.

“Bas,” Ash said softly.

The word shook loose Bastion’s body and he found the will to lie down. He pulled his blanket close to him, then over his head. He cried, softly, into his pillow.

Ash hovered beside him, unsure on what to do next. She wanted to help, to take this from him. She wanted to hold him tight, to let him cry on her shoulder, to push her fingers through his hair and comfort him with reassuring words. But if she touched him at all…

Instead she pulled on her magic to make herself invisible again, as she had been for days. She didn’t run, she barely even moved, she simply floated there by her brother. If he looked out, he would think she had left and maybe that was best. Or maybe he would know, seeing through the shimmer of her magic now that he knew she had been following him. Either way, both of them knew what was coming next and neither knew what to do about it.

Ash longed so hard to help but maybe, for now, it was best if they both pretended she wasn’t there.

---

Mintaka awoke slowly, fixating her vision on a hard-lined shadow on the floor and watching as it drug its way across the floor. It found its way onto the back of one of the other injured people sharing this space. Mintaka watched their blanket, waiting for the gentle rise and fall of their breath. It never came.

She pulled herself up with a sigh, feeling numb to the death around her. She had enjoyed enough breakdowns recently, now was not the time for another. She needed to find Bastion, then try and explain what happened last night. She needed to find Glade, to try and explain… herself, who she was, what she was? No, he wouldn't understand. Not yet.

Maybe she should just leave. She could, probably, but no matter how she tried to convince herself to take the logical course of action, she just couldn’t. More than anything, she wanted to see how far she could take this, even if it all ended up blowing up in her face.

She looked down at her feet and yawned. What, exactly,  was she going to do then? If she wasn’t going to tell him who she was then maybe she really should just leave. They started as enemies and this rapid double-life she had adopted was unsustainable. Maybe they should just stay enemies? They could fight across the continent, Mintaka always letting him get away by the skin of his teeth. They would flirt with each other at the ends of blades and claws. She could do that… until she lost, until his valiant efforts proved fruitful. No, that wouldn’t do either.

Her eyes had glazed with thought but then rapidly came into focus on her feet. With a sudden start she realized she had lost her shoes. Then, just as suddenly it dawned on her that it wasn't just her shoes that were gone, it was all of her clothing, save for the polymorph cloak. In her explosive actions last night, her clothing had been ripped to shreds. She panicked briefly and looked around, scanning for any eyes that may have caught her in this state. There were only four of them in total here, one seemed dead, the others were still asleep. Her brow furrowed at her own embarrassment, this wasn’t even her real body and, even if it was, she would have nothing but pride for it. It’s not like she wore clothes in her full dragon form. Still, in this smaller body, clothing felt protective in a way she couldn’t describe.

She glanced around, looking for clothing she knew would not be there. She only had the one set before and those were long gone. She sighed and rose, moving over to the still body. The sun had crwaled its way down them, threatening to heat their feet soon. Mintaka crouched and gently shook them. There was no reaction. She gingerly pulled the body to its side and met the wide open eyes of an emaciated young woman. She must have starved, or maybe she was sick? She looked as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks but Mintaka remembered seeing this woman here before, even saw her take food when it was given out. She didn’t remember her wearing these clothes though. What had happened? Where had she gotten these? She pondered the mystery for a moment, then gave up with a shrug. Not her story to know.

Mintaka looked deeply into the glassy, gray eyes. The same old accusations were there but Mintaka did not recoil this time.

“I know,” she whispered to the nameless woman. “I’m sorry.”

Mintaka looked at the others in the room and checked that they were still resting. Satisfied, she set about disrobing the body, pulling a loose-fitting yellow top and matching skirt off. She left her underclothing and shoes, both of which were a little too ”used” for Mintaka. A broken mirror in the room allowed Mintaka to observe her “borrowed” outfit. It was a little frilly for her taste but she did enjoy the way it fell along this form. It rested on her in a pleasing way, draping across her shoulders and hips lightly, the material feeling soft on her scales. She twirled, smiled at herself, then dropped a bit in embarrassment and went back to the body.

“Thank you,” she said. She stayed there for a moment, thinking hard of what to say next. “I don’t have anything to trade with you. I’m sorry you… died?” She paused.

“Ugh, c’mon Mintaka! Do better…”

A spark fired in her mind and she went over to her blanket. She picked it up and looked it over. It was stained, frayed, and smelled of old blood and sweat. She smiled broadly at the ragged thing. Even with the poor condition of it, she loved it, enjoyed all the flaws in it. It was a terrible blanket, in almost every respect, but it was hers and only hers. She pulled it to her chest, holding it tight for a moment before lowering her arms with a heavy breath.

She walked back to the corpse on the floor and regarded it again.

“I don’t…” Mintaka started before taking in a big breath to calm her nerves. She had never done this before and it was harder than she expected. “I don’t have much to trade. This blanket is all I’ve got, the only thing that I haven't stolen or murdered for, but… I’d like you to have it. I don’t think I will be needing it much beyond today, no matter how it goes. So, umm… thanks for the clothes.”

She paused, half expecting some sort of response. There wasn’t one.

“I’m sorry this hap-... I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I’m just sorry.”

Mintaka turned away, towards the door. She wanted to say more but the words kept coming out jumbled. That was ok, she supposed. She had never talked quite like this before. It had always been fights, defense, justification, survival. She needed practice before she could master it.

So why was she heading to try her skills with Bastion?

—

Tobias stretched out, mimicking a cat lazing in the sun. He had rested well and, except for Glade sneaking out for seemingly predictable reasons, he had slept harder than he had in a long time. A little too hard, he thought. He quickly went over everything he had eaten in the day, mentally checking for any subterfuge. When his mind had crawled over all those possibilities, it came to more rational options. He had been in the sun a lot the previous day, maybe it had simply zapped him? He touched his face, his pointed ears, checking to see if they had been singed by the sun. No extra heat, no sensitivity. Dead end thought.

He was probably being paranoid but then again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He looked around the room, seeing Bastion and Gloria still resting. Glade was still gone, which was unexpected but not much cause for alarm. He tried to connect the dots, to find why the deep sleep had bothered him so much. Was it the dreams?

He remembered dreaming of the forest, of his childhood home, all of it smashed into this city. Moving from one to the other was like gliding and people from his past were here, helping the sick and wounded. They advised him, mouthing words that had no sound but sunk deep into him. At one point he was drowning, overcome by words and thoughts and desires and advice. The conflicting ideas jumbled in his head and he snapped awake. How strange that he had almost immediately forgotten the dream, choosing instead to stretch.

He had forgotten the dream. He had forgotten how to dream. How long had it been since he dreamed anything at all? How long had it been since he…

A shiver went down Tobias’ spine. He didn’t dream anymore because he didn’t sleep anymore. At least, not in the way he had as a child.

Years ago, he had learned to enter a trance-like state, calling on half of his elven ancestry to rest and recover in much the same way they did. It still looked like sleep, he hadn’t bothered to learn any of the traditional trance forms and instead just laid down as comfortably as he could, but it wasn’t sleep. During the trance, he was still mostly aware of his surroundings. He could hear, feel, smell, and even kind of taste things, though there was a misty quality to all the senses. The benefit was that he could rest and recover the same as his companions without ever fully dropping his guard. The downside was that he never dreamed anymore, not full dreams at least. His mind instead drifted, combining ideas in a loose sort of association set in the world around him. Occasionally he would still get glimpses of dreams, unknown things lurking beyond his vision, but these always resulted in him dropping the trance to ensure the drowsy nightmare was just a figment of his imagination and not a real threat.

So why, then, had he fallen asleep in the night?

Gloria sturred a few feet away, beginning her day as she always did, hacking up the dust her wide-mouthed sleeping style accumulated. The first hack caused Bastion to shake and then groan with annoyance. Even though those two had been together since childhood, they still seemed to annoy each other in small ways. Gloria rubbed her eyes and looked around, catching Tobias in his pondering.

“What’s troubles you?” she asked in a raspy voice.

Tobias was caught with his mask down. He gently slid it back into place, moving his face with practiced precision. Years of study in the mirror, of watching faces intently, of mistakes and unexpected trouble had taught him how to slide on any face he needed. This time, the mask was a smile, exactly what Gloria needed to see in order to calm her and deflect away from seeing the true him, the puzzled him, the frightened him.

He picked his mouth up on the edge, raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Glade’s bedroll. The smirk was perfect in its execution. Now, all he needed to do was match the motion with his voice. The inflection needed to pair with the face, an annoying task but necessary. If these two aspects didn’t match, it could cause confusion or even anger in those that heard it. How frustrating that words had to come with such rules and couldn’t just mean what they meant.

“Our leader seems to have gone for a little midnight stroll,” he said, his voice going exactly where he intended it to.

It was tedious, remembering all this, pulling his voice and face and body and feet and hands and breath and his whole being around like a puppet. But if he didn't, if he just spoke as the words came, if he only motioned as was needed, if he let the mask slip for a moment, people began to notice. They would watch him strangely, get upset, fight with him over his inability to follow the silent rules. He hated it but, his mastery over his body and of the unwritten decorum had aided him greatly over his life as an adventurer.

“Ah,” Gloria said before she began to rise, dusting the sleep off herself. “One can only imagine his destination.”

Tobias didn’t want to be an adventurer, a hero, or a villain either. What he really enjoyed was simply watching, enjoying the play of life as it drew itself out before him. He did not want to partake in it, only to be a ghost, a fly, and observer among all the acts of existence. Unfortunately, that was hard to make a living with. Second best was becoming a shadow, interacting, i.e. murdering, only as he had to.

“Tobias?” Gloria said, interrupting his thoughts.

Damnit! Again, the mask slipped! In front of this group, his… friends, truly, if there were such a thing, this was it, he could slip up a bit. Play it off as an absent mind. But he was anything but absent. Overwhelmed, curious, entranced, yes those, but never absent, not even for a moment. He spun off a sliver of his mind to wonder at what an absent mind might be like. The sliver would come back eventually, full of answers and even more questions.

He slipped the mask back on. An aloof face this time; he stretched out hard, an act he did not need to do, and which brought him no satisfaction, but another small play to put Gloria at ease.

“Sorry, still a little sleepy. I imagine he went to see Mintaka. He’s playing a little desperate, don’t you think?”

Gloria’s face was a stone wall. She was attempting to play Tobias’ game but he had been at it for decades. He saw the small narrowing of the eyes, the tiny rise on the right side of her nose, the small inhalation. She was… mad? No, jealous. That was it. The emotion was foreign to Tobias, not something he had ever experienced but, as he understood it, it was somewhat akin to hunger but for something other than food. Though it could be food… given the right context? Did she want to eat Glade? No, she wanted to eat Mintaka!

Tobias shook his head, clearing his mind while he transitioned the movement into an air of annoyance.

“He always did have… unique tastes,” Tobias said. His head stopped moving and he forced eye contact with Gloria. He added a smirk to the whole performance. “If he pushes too hard he might drive her away. Then this little love story arc would end and we’d be back to the tragic darkest hour.”

Gloria scoffed. “Let us hope his enamoration has a prolonged duration.”

“Ugh,” Bastion said, finally removing the blanket from his head. “Can’t you both just talk normally?”

“You take umbrage with my vocabulary?” Gloria shot back at him.

“No, not this early in the morning,” Bastion responded. “I'll take umbrage after breakfast.”

Tobias smiled, an act that bordered on involuntary. He still had to make himself do it but, in this moment, he did enjoy the act of it.

“Well, I guess we should get started again. It’s been a little over a week, who knows when the dragon will be back,” Tobias said.

“Should we not search for Glade?” Gloria asked.

Bastion took a long breath in, held it, and released it. Tobias noted it. Bastion sighed regularly but something about this one was different. Between this, the dreams, and Glade missing, there may be more of a problem than any of them wanted to admit.

“Maybe… he’s probably fine,” Bastion said.

“Like I said, probably went off to see the dragon,” Tobias said.

Bastion scoffed but Gloria dropped down into a defensive stance instinctively.

“The dragon!? He went off to fight it by himself!?” Gloria shouted.

“I meant the dragonborn,” Tobias said. He rested his head back, looking at the ceiling before closing his eyes. Back to the aloof mask, one of his favorites.

“Mintaka,” Bastion said flatly.

“Oh, right” Gloria said.

“Yup, that’s the beauty that has our leader so transfi-”

“No, Mintaka,” Bastion interrupted, a strange stillness in his voice.

Tobias glanced up, his highly trained perception picking up danger. He saw Bastion, his finger raised towards the hole in the wall they used like a doorway. Mintaka stood in the line of his finger, waving hesitantly.

“Hi everyone... hi Bastion,” she said with a nervous smile. Her hand dropped and she looked around the room.

Nobody spoke.

“Oh, um… is Glade not here?” Mintaka asked.

The temperature in the room rose slightly. Tobias could hear everyone take in a small breath, he could feel Gloria and Bastion’s eyes grow wide. He was able to match their shock, just a second after he heard their heartbeats increase.

He spoke when they couldn’t. “We thought he was with you?”

“No?” Mintaka said. She turned her head to the side and looked around the room. “Did he go out for breakfast?”

Bastion stood. Gloria grabbed her axe. Tobias reflexively sat forward.

“What’s wrong?” Mintaka asked.

Tobias felt these words, rolled them around in his head. ‘What’s wrong?’ That’s right, he wasn’t being paranoid, something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

---

Lyle walked onto the pier, false confidence holding his back rigid. His chest was puffed, his upper lip stiff, and he held an air of pomp about him. A few days ag he ran into a traveling merchant and had bought fine clothing with some of the gold he stole from the sleeping dragonborn. Billowy pants and a flowing shirt, far more showy than he preferred but important for appearances. A salt-air breeze hit him harshly, forcing the clothes to stick to him strangely. After the breeze calmed, he called out to the boat.

“Hello!” he started, then stumbled. “I mean, ahoy! I seek passage on your boat!”

He was days away from Eastedge now, the farthest he had ever been away from home. He found himself in the village of Cauln, which was little more than a port-rest for boats traveling the Long Row ocean. He had hoped to find a bustling port, full of ships and options. Those hopes were brought down by the reality of three boats, two of which appeared to be half-sunk already. THe third was little more than a moderate cargo ship, small enough to be run by maybe a dozen bodies.

Lyle waited for a moment before taking a large breath in to call once more. He felt ridiculous and angry at the same time. He had gold, he had clothes that said he had gold. Didn’t anyone on board want to help?

“I said, Ah-”

“I caught what you said, lad,” a calm but stern voice said right beside his ear.

Lyle jumped into the sky, higher than he thought he was capable of, and came crashing down on his side. He scrambled for a moment, his mind just barely able to register the world around him. From the boat he heard laughter, several voices, coming from heads that had just now popped over the side of the ship. Many of them were rough from hard work in the sun, but that seemed to be the only trait shared by the variety of faces. Men, women, elves, dragonborn, a kobold even? Lyle narrowed his eyes at them and huffed.

With another breath he quickly turned his head to see who had scared him. It was an older man, shorter than Lyle by half a meter or so. He had his hand wrapped behind his back and wore a smile in his short beard. There was amusement on his face but no malice in his eyes. Lyle glanced back at the faces on the ship. The same could not be said for some of those eyes.

“I seek…” Lyle began before taking a large breath. He settled himself, trying again to regain what appearances he came with. If he appeared important, they would treat him like he was important. He needed to get to New Solaris, or ol Solaris, somewhere with magic that he could study. Whatever it took to get there, Lyle would do.

“Like I said, lad, I heard what you said,” the man, or maybe halfling, said to Lyle.

“I have gold,” Lyle said. He tried to say something else important sounding, something about safe passage or noble causes but came up short.

The man looked to his side, directly at his coin purse. “I can see that.”

Lyle smiled, relieved to finally be making progress.

“I don’t have much need for gold,” the man said.

Lyle frowned and started to speak before a shirtless man on the ship spoke up.

“Ey lad, I can take it off yer hands if the cap’n don’t want it!”

The old man, the captain it turned out, turned his gray eyes towards the ship and barely raised his voice. It still carried heavily, sending a shiver into Lyle. “Holt, need I remind you, again, who commands the ship?”

The shirtless man, seconds ago cutting a harsh shadow in the light of the midday sun, visibly shrank a few inches. “No sir, you d’not.”

The old man turned his attention to Lyle. “Give me your hands.”

Lyle thought to protest, to demand passage for gold, but his body followed the orders without his input. He found his fingers quickly gripped by the old man. The captain pinched his hands, not intentionally it seemed, but simply because his grip was strengthened by years of hard labor. He flipped over his hands in his own, regarding them.

“I’m Captain Omar. You can call me Captain, Cap’n, or Sir. This is my ship, The Vincible. What is your name?” the captain said.

“The… Vincible?” Lyle asked and felt his hands pinched even harder in response.

“That’s a strange name, lad,” he said with a smile.

Lyle winced. “I mean, it’s Lyle,” he said then added “sir.”

“Lyle, you’ve got weak hands. Where are you headed?”

“Solaris,” Lyle said without thought.

Omar took a few breaths to think. Lyle looked over towards the boat. A few faces watched the exchange while others walked up, down, and around, moving and pushing this or that here or there.

“Which one?” Captain Omar asked.

“Uh… I don’t really know,” Lyle said.

“We’re not headed to either one,” Omar said. “And I don’t have any use for your gold or your soft hands. What did you do before this, lad?”

“I don’t… have a life before this,” Lyle said. He tried to make it sound intimidating or resolute but instead it came out morose.

“No family?”

“No, sir.”

“Ah, born yesterday?” the captain said with a chuckle.

Lyle smiled despite himself. “Yes, Captain.”

“A blank slate, then?”

“Yes, Captain,” Lyle said again.

Captain Omar thought for a moment, there was no change in his expression. Lyle simply felt the pressure of thought coming off him.

“I could use a blank slate. I can’t take you to either Solaris, not anytime soon, but we’re going to see more than a few ports in the coming months. Maybe someone there will have use for your gold.”

“Really?” Lyle asked. He expected to have to fight for passage, maybe to even be extorted, but not to be offered passage freely. Maybe the clothes and the bravado really worked. “Are you sure?”

“I was a refugee once myself.” the captain said.

Lyle instinctively took a step back. “How did you k-”

“The clothes don’t suit you, lad” he said. Then he turned towards the boat and began walking up the ramp. “Well, don’t just stand there, Lyle. We’ve got to rough up those hands.”

Lyle shook himself out of his stupor and followed the old man, finding the ramp to be more challenging than he expected. When he arrived on the deck a few faces turned towards him while many others kept to their tasks. Lyle felt a strange hope come over him. This would be hard but he was already ready to do whatever it took. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Captain Omar motioned over to the shirtless man from before who seemed to be pretending to work by moving an empty box. He hurried over to the captain.

“Sir?” he said sharply.

“Holt, please show Lyle around and find him something rough to move around.

Holt smiled widely, white and gold teeth shining in the sun.

“Yes, sir!” he said sharply. Then, turning to Lyle he said “C’mon dough digits. I’ve a broom with yer name on ‘er!”

Lyle turned towards the captain to protest but he was already gone. He heard the gangplank raise and had to duck as heavy bodies moved it over him. He looked towards Holt who was still holding the same, somewhat menacing, grin. Lyle’s stomach sank.