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Chapter Text

It wasn’t often that Sol Regem left his post at the border of Xadia, and even more rare that he wandered into the magicless lands of humanity. But one is ought to get bored of standing sentinel at a barren post and the archdragon had felt an overwhelming need to stretch his wings after almost an entire decade of inactivity. 

The sun dragon did not wish to risk flying into other dragons and thought, rather facetiously, that it had been a long time since he had terrified a town of humans. So he had headed west. Even without his sight, he still had a remarkable sense of direction given his connection to the sun. And his immense size meant that short of crashing headfirst into a mountain he could mostly force his way through any obstacle in his path. Plus the route he planned on taking had no mountains. 

The archdragon relished in the air beneath his wings and felt his scarred face relax into something like contentment. His chest filled with the crisp air of the clouds and he let himself go limp into a freefall, spinning languidly in the air before catching himself on an updraft and continuing on his way. It had been a long time since he had felt this level of playfulness and in his solitude Sol Regem allowed himself to indulge. He corkscrewed into flip and dive-bombed until he felt the wind roar in his ears before spreading his wings and gliding before doing the whole thing over again.  

By the time midday had come and gone the archdragon’s wings burned with exhaustion and he gingerly looped to the ground and, thankfully, only crashed through one tree on his rather clumsy landing. The golden dragon let out a puff of steam in annoyance and began to stalk through the forest to a softer place to rest before he headed home. 

With a great sigh Sol Regem settled down on a soft patch of grass, he could feel the sun filter through the canopy above him. A splash of sunlight warmed the scars on his face and the gold dragon sighed shifting his head so that it rested in the shadows instead. 

It was strange, not feeling magic pulsing around him. This land was almost eerily quiet whereas Xadia was practically bursting with commotion and noises that at times could overwhelm him. A few songbirds sang their songs above him and he could distantly hear the noises of creatures skittering just at the edge of his senses but besides that it was quiet. No humans. No magic. Nothing. The lack of noise was a surprisingly nice change of pace and Sol Regem found himself listening in with a strange calmness in his chest. 

His wings tingled from his flight and Sol Regem thought that perhaps standing stationary for over a century might have caused his physique to deteriorate. He couldn’t suppress a snarl at the very thought. There was once a time where he could fly for days on end without tiring. But now after only a couple hours in flight he had to land to rest. How pitiful. 

Sol Regem relaxed as much as he could in a foreign land and allowed himself to doze lazily in the shade. He was acutely aware of the sun’s path across the sky, as he always was, and thought that he should be leaving to head home soon. Today had been a relatively good day however and Sol Regem wished to bask in it as long as possible before he returned to his barren home. 

Even though his exile had been self-imposed, and Sol Regem took his duty to guard one of the many weak points in the border of Xadia very seriously, sometimes he yearned for something more . Something more than standing vigil in an empty canyon waiting decades between each individual event of someone attempting to enter his country. 

With a sigh, Sol Regem hauled himself up to his feet and turned his head to the side to better sense the sun and the direction of home. He began to clumsily make his way through the trees to find a clear space to allow himself to take off into the air. 

Suddenly a raucous noise disturbed the silence, a familiar noise but the arch dragon couldn’t figure out where he had heard it before. It was rather quiet and with stuttering gasps and short bursts of noise.

It is a human hatchling, Sol Regem realizes with a start. There was no human settlements for miles and the prime could not sense any humans nearby. How a hatchling as young as this managed to wander so far he did not know. 

He pauses as he scents the air one more time, a river flows nearby. The hatchling’s clothes are damp and muddy, he observes, the boy likely tumbled into the current and was carried away from his home.

Sol Regem held no love for humans but even he would not stop so low as to kill a child with no provocation. He thinks to make his way back to Xadia, his peace has been disturbed and he no longer wishes to linger here. With a huff, the prime dragon physically dismisses the oddity and turns his head towards Xadia. Just as he spreads his wings to take flight something stops him; it's… magic? Cocking his head to the side, the great dragon scents the air. 

It is faint, but it is there. Magic. Emanating from the human hatchling, curled up and sniffling at the base of a tree. How peculiar… 

The union of a human and elf has not been unheard of, and in such cases the resulting offspring can radiate magic but Sol Regem cannot sense the familiar magic of elves radiating from this child. Instead it is something else… something new. 

It is rare for the gold dragon to come across something he does not know . He is older than most creatures on this earth and has gained unimaginable knowledge from his time spent roaming the land. Never has he encountered something quite like this and as such finds it entirely appropriate to investigate further. If only to sate his curiosity of the new phenomenon he has discovered.

He gingerly makes his way closer to the child. Without sight his approach is loud and awkward as he bumps into trees and steps on entire bushes. There was a time where he could walk as silent as a mouse and not for the first time the fallen king resents humans for what they did to him. The child hears him coming (Sol Regem would be very much surprised if they didn't, he is making quite a racket afterall) and their sniffling quiets as they listen warily to the sound of something big approaching. 

"H-hello?" The hatchling calls out, their voice cracking.

It has been a very very long time since Sol Regem has spoken to a human, and even longer since he has even been in the presence of a human child. Or any child for that matter. During his reign, Sol Regem had not found the need to find a mate and had never sired hatchlings of his own. He had rarely had the opportunity to be in the presence of children and as such felt at a loss on what to do. 

If the sharp gasp that came from the child is any indication, Sol Regem has entered their line of sight and he makes his way closer still until he is standing in front of the human and yet not crowding them. He is well aware of his size and doesn’t want to send the small human into a hysterical fit. That would be annoying. 

"Why do you smell of magic, child?" He growled, bowing his head close to the ground to better sense the small one. The human yelped loudly, scrambling behind the tree and whimpering pathetically. 

The gold dragon tries his best not to sigh in irritation, prays to the sun to give him patience and speaks again. He attempts to make his voice less intimidating but it comes out as a snarl nonetheless  "Do not be afraid, no harm will come to you." He tries his best to be placating but considering the fresh smell of salt in the air from the child's tears he isn't doing a good job.

After a long few moments where nothing happens, he decides to try again. "I will not hurt you." For now, he thinks privately.

Still nothing. The dragon thinks of just leaving because this is ridiculous. He doesn't think standing here and terrorizing a child is a worthwhile way to spend his time. He snorts out a cloud of smoke, this was foolish. With a growl of frustration, the prime dragon raises his head and moves to stomp away.

"You're a dragon," a small, quiet voice whispers below him. The child. He imagines them peeking from around the tree to stare at him with awe-filled eyes. 

Sol Regem fights the amusement rising in his gut valiantly, "I am," he says. 

A moment of silence, "Can… can you breathe fire?" They ask next, he can feel their eyes on him and can practically taste the awe and fear coming off of them. 

"I can," he says, puffing out a small stream of fire into the air as demonstration. The child gasps, he hears the woosh of their hand going to their face and the smell of magic flares a moment. Responding to the sun dragon's own magic, he theorizes. How curious...

"Do you have a name?" The hatchling wonders next, peeking farther out from behind the tree. 

"I do not see why that is something you need to know." Sol Regem mutters. 

"Oh…" says the small boy, "I'm Callum." He offers shyly. 

The gold dragon could quite literally not care less but he hums a clicking noise in acknowledgment. Cautiously, Callum shuffles away from his tree and towards Sol Regem. His boots squelch with water as he moves, the prime is vaguely aware of the chill in the air and thinks that the boy must be cold. The archdragon cocks his head to the side before subtly rousing the fire that burns in his chest, heating it up so that he radiates heat like a furnace. He can’t help the curl of amusement as the child shuffles just a little closer to his warmth. 

Being a sun dragon meant that he had never really felt cold before besides in the presence of powerful ice magic. He is well aware of the effects it can have on those who do not have flames burning within them, however. A foreign feeling off concern pangs at his chest that quickly shifts to annoyance at the realization that he is worried for a human , of all things!

His growling is interrupted as the human hatchling inches closer, clearly wonderstruck. “You’re not like the dragons in my books,” Callum tells him. 

“Oh?” Sol Regem says, allowing himself to settle onto the ground in front of the boy. 

“Yeah,” the boy sits down too, and curls his knees up to his chest. “Dragons in my books are really scary and mean. You’re not mean, you’re nice.”

Sol Regem is thrown. It takes him a long moment to get over his shock before speaking, “You do not know me, little one.” he finally says.

“Maybe not,” the boy agrees. And from what the sun dragon knows of humans he cannot help but think that the boy is strangely eloquent for his age.

“I read a book about magical creatures and it said that dragons could not talk and were very mean,” the boy tells the alpha dragon. 

“Read many books, do you?” Sol Regem grumbled, laying his head down. 

At this Callum perked up. “Oh yes! I read all the time! Soren says that it is stupid and a waste of time, but I think that obsessively working out is even worse.” 

The gold dragon hummed, “Maybe so, but it is also important to train both body and mind.” he tells the boy. 

“That’s what mom says,” Callum grumbled, pouting. Abruptly, the boy's mood sours noticeably and he doesn’t say anything else. 

The alpha dragon hums an acknowledgment, curious, “And where is your mother? It is unwise to leave one as young as yourself alone.” he prompts

Callum is quiet for a long moment, “She died,” he whispered. 

By the tone of voice, Sol Regem assumed this is a recent event. He hums his acknowledgment but feels no pity or remorse for a human’s death. “Did sickness take her?” humans were remarkably fragile in that way, and he recalls that the winter had been particularly harsh for Katolis. 

“The dragon king killed her,” Callum says, voice tiny and broken. 

That surprises Sol Regem. Avizandum was far less wrathful than the sun dragon and would not attack humans unprovoked. However it had been many centuries since he had seen his old friend and he was well aware how time could change someone and turn them bitter and cruel. 

The two dragons had been around the same age and grew from hatchlings to adolescents side by side. The storm dragon had stood at Sol Regem’s side during his rise to power and had actively supported him throughout his reign. And he thinks of the dragon king as a dear friend to him, despite everything. 

After he was blinded, Avizandum searched for him for months. Stumbling across him by chance on a beach the currents had washed him up on. Sol Regem had been practically feral, blindly attacking the storm dragon and unable to even comprehend his old friend’s words. The blue dragon had tried for days to get through to him, begging him to come home, to just listen. But Sol Regem had just snarled and raged. 

Eventually, the archdragon had enlisted the help of Zubeia. And if at any moment during that time Sol Regem could’ve seen sense, the great sky princess was the one that had gotten the closest to breaking through to him. The other storm dragon had spoken to him gently and calmly and after days had coaxed him off the beach and had gotten him to follow them back to Xadia. 

But Sol Regem had refused to take back his mantle of king, wounded and humiliated he had fled to the border where he had set up his post and refused any and all visitors. He chased off everyone who tried to visit him. Eventually, Avizandum stopped trying. And he was left alone to wallow in grief and anger, just like he had wanted. 

Avizandum had reluctantly taken up the mantle of Dragon King and his reign was just as prosperous, if not more so than Sol Regem’s. The sun dragon didn’t know how he felt about that.

“What of your father?” the archdragon asks, tilting his scarred face to the side.

“He is dead too,” Callum says. Just his luck , Sol Regem thinks, exasperated. “Mom did marry a man before… before she died. But there is also my Aunt Amaya.” The boy’s voice is much more sincere when speaking of his aunt than stepfather. Sol Regem couldn’t really care less about the relationship a human child had with their surrogate father but he suspected that this boy did not feel comfortable being taken in by someone that was not his mother, no matter how kind the man may or may not be. 

“Are you blind?” Callum asks next. The archdragon feels a twinge of annoyance twist in his chest and lets out a warning growl. “My aunt is deaf, but she didn’t let that stop her. She became a general!” the boy ignores his growls and continues on. 

“Impressive,” Sol Regem allows. 

“It is!” Callum sounds like he is grinning, “She is so cool! I am trying to learn sign language, but it is hard. Aunt Amaya says that I am doing very good for just beginning to learn. I’ve been reading books on sign language and there’s more than one kind!” 

Sol Regem hums, “You seem the scholarly sort,” 

“What does scholarly mean?” Callum asks. 

“It means you are interested in academics,” the archdragon says patiently. 

The boy pauses a moment, “Academics is books and learning, right?”

“Correct,”

It is hard to tell, but the gold dragon thinks that Callum is smiling up at him. Despite being blind the old dragon can feel the other’s eyes on his face and he suddenly feels uncomfortable and turns his head to the side with a grumble. 

“In my book, they described dragons a lot differently,” Callum says suddenly. “Your horns are so cool,” he adds. 

Despite himself, he cannot help the amusement that bursts in his chest. He didn’t know human hatchlings could be so… cute. “I had thought we had established that your books were severely lacking in accurate information of dragons,” he tells the boy. 

“Well yeah, but are there different species of dragons? How do you live? What do you eat? I heard that Thunder could breathe lightning, but you can breathe fire. Why?”

“Enough,” Sol Regem growls, he can practically feel Callum deflate at his harsh words and the dragon softens, “One question at a time.” 

Callum perks up and the prime cannot stop the corners of his mouth from lifting. “There are many different race of dragons, and they come in all colors, shapes, and sizes. I am an arch sun dragon, I am much larger than normal dragons,” he tells the boy, almost conspiratorially. “The Dragon King Avizandum, or as you call him, Thunder, is a sky arch dragon. Since his magic comes from the sky he can breathe lightning.” 

“If his magic comes from the sky does that mean he can breathe… wind? Or can he make it rain?” 

The sun dragon laughs, “He cannot breathe wind, no. He does have the ability to control storms, however, but not without immense magic power.”

“Woah,” Callum says. “Can you do anything cool?” 

Sol Regem hums, “That depends on how you define ‘cool’. I have a connection to the sun primal that allows me to unleash the power of the sun onto my enemies.” 

“ Woah,” Callum says again, this time with more inflection. “Do all dragons have fur too?” he asks next. 

“Some do,” the sun dragon yawns, “The fur along my face comes from age, however.”

“How old are you?” the boy practically demands, scooting closer. If he wasn’t so amused by the young boy’s curiosity he would have admonished the boy for being so forward. 

“I am over 1200 years old, truth be told I have lost count.” 

Callum is quiet for a long moment before muttering “I’m six.”

Sol Regem laughs. A great booming noise that sounds akin to hiccuping snarls and he is vaguely aware of Callum startling at the harsh sound but he is too busy snickering to himself to really notice. It strikes him then that it has been many centuries since he has laughed, and he feels a smile pull at his lips at the thought. 

He lets out a puff of smoke as he finally settles into silence, Callum is now so close the arch dragon’s breath ruffles his hair. He has never let a human so close to him before. And this is the first time in his long existence that a human has been in his presence without being terrified. Granted, Sol Regem was feeling rather amiable today. 

With Callum so close, the archdragon could smell the magic practically radiating off the boy. It was unlike any magic he had ever sensed before. The closest he could describe it was the sterile otherworldly scent of the star primal, and yet it was nothing like that either. It was cool and clean like ice, and roiling like fire. It was innocent and blank and had the potential for something. But what? The archdragon decided to test a hunch.  

“Do you know what magic is, Callum?” He asks. 

The boy perks up, “Yeah! There are six kinds! The sun, the moon, the sky, the earth, the ocean and the… uh... “

“The stars,” Sol Regem supplies. 

“Yeah, the stars! And all magical creatures are connected to one of the magic types.”

“They are called primal sources,” the dragon says with amusement. 

“Yeah those, and each type can do all different kinds of things.”

“Do you know what the sun primal does?” he asks, cocking his head. 

“It… harnesses the power of the sun?” it is almost a question and the dragon snorts. 

“In a sense. The sun primal has a dual nature; it nurtures and grows, and burns and destroys. It is life and destruction, give and take. Just like the sun itself.” Callum is quiet, avidly taking in his explanation like a sponge. 

Sol Regem offers one of his paws out to the boy, “Hold on to me and say this incantation…” It is a simple enough spell. Just summoning a ball of light. 

“Why?” Callum asks, “I thought…”

“Just do it,” he says a bit impatiently, eager to see if his hunch is correct. 

He feels Callum’s small hand gingerly resting on his talon and the boy’s magic flares dramatically at the moment of contact so bright the archdragon can practically see it. The boy repeats the incantation to the best of his ability, he doesn’t quite say it correctly, but the magic within him responds. It molds itself into a ball of light, Sol Regem cannot see it but he can feel the warmth it radiates. 

Callum gasps, pulling off of the sun dragon and the orb of light stays intact even without the boy using Sol Regem as a primal source. How interesting… 

“What… is that… Did I do that?” the boy squeaks, he can sense the ball of light circling the boy’s head lazily, bobbing up and down and pulsing with warmth and light. 

“You did,” truthfully the archdragon hadn’t thought that that would actually work and is just as shocked as the human. This is unheard of -- a human creating magic without a primal source or sucking the magic out of innocent creatures. 

There is only one way to be sure… 

“Repeat the incantation again,” he says. Callum looks up at him a moment, biting his lip before closing his eyes in concentration. After a long moment, the human says the words of magic much clearer than before and for a moment nothing happens, then his magic flares and a second orb joins the first. This one is much smaller and it flickers and wanes as it tries to hold its form but it is there. 

And at that moment Sol Regem does not know what to do. 

This discovery cannot be allowed to return to the filth of humanity, either they would corrupt the boy or not utilize him to the best of his potential. The boy could be used as a weapon against Xadia. At the thought, Sol Regem considers just killing the boy but… no, he must learn more about this. He must learn why.  How? 

And if there is a small part of him that wants to keep the boy close purely for selfish reasons he will not tell that to anyone. 

“How would you like to see Xadia, Callum?” Sol Regem asks.

The boy’s magic flares in excitement before dimming. “I would love to! But… it’s getting late, Harrow and Aunt Amaya are going to get worried... “ the boy says dejectedly. 

“Just for a visit,” Sol Regem says, “They won’t even know you’re gone.” The archdragon does not plan on letting the cruel filth of humans touch this child again, but he does not wish to scare the child. 

Callum thinks about it for a long moment, he is so concentrating on thinking the warmth of the two orbs flicker out of existence. He takes so long that the gold dragon almost just scoops him up, consequences be damned.

But then the boy speaks, “Only for a little bit,” he tells the former dragon king. Sol Regem nods his acquiesce and lowers his head closer to the ground, “We  are going to fly?” Callum exclaims. 

“Of course,” the dragon laughs. 

The boy giddily climbs up his neck and settles between two of the spikes trailing down his neck and grips his fur tight. “Ready?” he asks the boy. 

“Ready,” says Callum nervously. 

He takes off as gently as he can, acutely aware of his small charge. The boy makes a nervous whimper at the rough take-offP, burying his face into the stripe of fur that trails down the archdragon’s spine. After a few moments the boy risks a glance out at the world and he gasps loudly at the sight of the vast forests and mountains that come into view as Sol Regem ascends. 

‘ This is going to be interesting…’ Sol Regem thinks as he flies with the setting sun to his back and towards home.

Chapter Text

King Harrow paced his office manically, looking haggard. Deep, dark bags shadowed the underside of his eyes and his normal pristine crimson tunic was wrinkled and dirtied. His hair had mostly fallen out of the updo and was tousled from all the times he had carded his hair through the braids. He did not wear his crown. 

His office was a mess, papers that he hadn’t bothered to read and considered stacked high on his desk and some of the piles had listed over to splay onto the floor. But frankly, Harrow wasn't really interested in crop finances and building requests within his city. All of those mundane kingly duties had been pushed to the side in the wake of the tragedy that had happened and Viren had offered to take care of the more urgent matters whilst Harrow organized search parties and worked with his guards to figure out what had exactly happened. 

A hesitant knock at his door halted his step and the king took a moment to straighten his tunic before calling out a short “Come in.”. 

The door creaked open as three kingsguard stepped in, “Captain,” Harrow greeted, voice hoarse. 

“Your Majesty,” the captain responded with a curt bow, he was an older man with a full beard and always reminded the king of a bear. 

His tight expression was answer enough but Harrow had to ask anyway, “Did you find anything?” his voice was desperate, almost begging the captain to tell him what he wanted to hear. 

The taller man sighed and shook his head regretfully, ‘“No, my lord. We have found no trace; witnesses have come forth claiming to have seen a boy of the… prince’s description running out of the palace. The hounds have tracked his scent to the East River but from there his scent ends. We… we suspect he might have fallen in.”

“Then search along the river!” Harrow snapped, pulling back his shoulders as frustration boiled over within him. “Double the search party, beat the dogs until they find his scent, I don’t care, just find my son!” The two guards on either side of the captain cringe at his town, cowering down like beaten dogs. Harrow is known for his patience and kind heart and this is the first time the younger guards have heard him so angry and the two subtly step behind the captain who has his head bowed as he takes the brunt of Harrow’s frustration. 

Harrow cannot find it within himself to care. He was far past caring. It had been four days since Callum had gone missing. Each moment that passed was another moment his son was not safe within the castle walls. The very thought made his heart twist agonizingly. 

“You are dismissed, Captain.” he finally gritted out. The burly man nodded and bowed before swiftly leaving, the two guards behind him scurrying out like Harrow was going to kick their asses on the way out. 

The moment the door clicked shut Harrow snarled in frustration, sweeping his arms across his desk, sending books and countless documents, papers, and scrolls flying and crashing to the ground. He heard the distinct sound of something glass-like shattering on the floor but didn’t care. Running a hand through his hair the king practically collapsed into his chair with a deep sigh, burying the palms of his heels into his eyes and trying to swallow the stone in his throat.

Gods, Sarai had given him one job. Look after the boys. And just a few weeks after her death he had managed to break his promise to her. He had lost Callum and was rapidly losing hope on finding him again. 

The king was only given a short few minutes to grieve when yet another knock sounded at his door, this one much more panicked. Harrow had barely given permission to enter before a young lanky guard who’s armor fits awkwardly practically ran into his office. “Sir, General Amaya is here, she is on her --” but the poor boy wasn’t given the chance to finish as an imposing figure stalks past him and practically shoves the lanky boy to the side. 

Amaya storms into his office, Commander Gren a step behind her. “Where. Is. He?” the general signs, her face stormy and if Harrow was a lesser man he would have been cowering under her fiery gaze. Gren swiftly translates, his voice nervous. The boy has only just been assigned as Amaya’s translator if he is not mistaken, but Harrow does not need him to understand his sister in law at that moment. Her words are very clear even with Harrow’s limited knowledge of sign. 

“Amaya…” Harrow sighed, his voice tired. 

Her gaze flickers to his mouth a moment as she reads his speech but does not allow him to explain as she stalks closer like with an aura that is more like a jungle cat than a general. “Where is Callum?” she demands, her hand movements sharp and her face hard as stone. 

“I don’t know!” Harrow snaps, Amaya does not look impressed and seems to be enraged by his answer, her eyes narrowed dangerously. 

The dark-haired general finally comes to a stop directly in front of him, Gren rounding to the side so he could better see her hands. She casts a judgemental look at the mess Harrow had made of his office but instead of mentioning it she gets straight to business, “Where was the last place he was seen?” she demanded, Gren swiftly translating as she signs. 

“We managed to track him to the East River. We… we think he might have fallen in.” Harrow says. He is vaguely aware of the redhead commander signing his words to the general, he looks uncomfortable. 

Amaya bares her teeth at him, “Why was he there alone?”

“I don’t know,” the king admits. “Some people have come forward claiming to have seen him walking by himself out of the palace. He was alone.” the general’s gaze flickers to Gren as the boy signs for her. 

“He could’ve been meeting with someone then,” Amaya almost seems to growl as she gesticulates her last sign with a harsh twist of her wrist. 

“Are you suggesting he was… what? Kidnapped?”

“It is a possibility we cannot rule out,” Amaya insists. “Someone in the palace could have manipulated him, had him meet with them outside of the city. Callum is not stupid but he is just a child, I hate to think he would fall for something like that but we must investigate all possibilities if we are going to find him. It could’ve been someone he trusts, have you questioned all of the staff?” 

“We have. But have you considered that maybe he was distraught after his mother’s death and ran away?” that had been the leading theory thus far. After all, the last time the king had spoken to his stepson the boy had been throwing a tantrum; screaming at Harrow to leave him alone and that he wanted to go back home. The child’s words had been harsh but truthfully Harrow had just been glad that the boy was showing emotion and actually talking to him, even if it had been in anger and frustration . The captain of the guard theorized Callum might have tried to run away after his outburst, with his emotions riding so high it was a very real possibility. 

For the first few weeks after Sarai’s death, Callum had been near catonic. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t talk. All he would do was lay numbly in bed, only getting out of bed when Harrow would silently usher him up and even then he would just follow numbly wherever Harrow lead. His eyes looked dead and it was like a knife in the king’s chest every time he looked the child in the eye. But the worst was when Callum would forget. When he would forget for just a moment that his mother was gone and he would smile or laugh and Harrow would finally feel hope only for it all to come crashing down when the small boy would flinch as he was brutally reminded of the tragedy and he would shrink back into his shell. It was like he was losing his son over and over again and Harrow did not know how to fix it because he wasn’t doing any better than Callum in dealing with the loss of Sarai. 

“Callum would not just run away, he isn’t like that.” Amaya insisted, clearly set on the possibility of kidnapping.

Harrow pinched the bridge of his nose with a harsh sigh, “He was going through a lot, he would’ve been unpredictable. Maybe he wasn’t running away, maybe he just wanted to be alone for a while. We don’t know, and we have no way of knowing unless we find him.”

Amaya glares, “Have the guards been searching along the river?” she asks next.

“Yes, but they have found nothing.”

“Give me command of the search.” the general demands, dark eyes stormy. 

“Amaya…” Harrow tries but quickly clams up as the woman narrows her eyes dangerously. If anyone has a chance of finding Callum it is Amaya and so with a sigh the king grants his sister in law her wish, but before he can go over the details of everything they know so far they are interrupted yet again by another knock on his door. 

Harrow lets out a sigh, wishing he could just catch a break but it seems the gods have no mercy to give because a hard-faced older woman steps into his office without being granted entrance. She is Ezran’s nursemaid, her curly hair is tied back from her face and she wears a simple dress and dirty apron, her whiskey brown eyes tired and bloodshot. “Prince Ezran is crying for you, my lord.” she tells him, casting a curious glance at Amaya and Gren. 

“I…” he begins to make an excuse but the other woman interrupts him. 

“He has not stopped crying for all of the night and most of the day, your majesty. He needs his father.” If he is not mistaken there is an accusatory tone in her voice and if he weren’t so exhausted Harrow might have said something about her attitude towards her king. He stiffens at her words and Amaya’s furious demeanor softens ever so slightly. 

“Go take care of Ezran, I will begin my search for Callum,” she tells him, resting a gloved hand on his shoulder and Harrow leans into the contact gratefully. He feels a sudden surge of relief and offers his sister in law a brittle smile which she returns. He sighs as she lets her hand fall back to her side and physically gathers himself before exiting his office.

His two guards swiftly follow a few steps behind him, they are his constant silent shadow and Harrow usually forgets they’re even there but right now he is on edge and part of him wants to turn and snap at them to leave him be. He wants to be alone to wallow in grief and regret.

The entire way to his quarters his mind is firmly locked on Callum. On where he is, what happened, if he is safe. And underneath those unrelenting questions is a constant mantra of ‘ please please please be okay’. He thinks it would be better if only he knew where his son was. The unknown and the constant hope that maybe his guards will run to him any moment exclaiming they have found Calum alive and well is practically killing him. All he wants to do at that moment is to pull the small child to his chest and never let him go, he yearns to see his son again. 

He is slowly coming to the realization that there is a very real possibility he will not be able to see his son grow up. It has been four days now. There has been no ransom for the prince, there has been no sign, and hope is quickly running out. If Callum was going to be found they would have found him already, Harrow knows logically. But he can’t just give up. He will not. Not until his son is safe or he at least knows how and why the child was taken from him. 

The journey to his rooms is shorter than he had hoped. He lets out a shaky breath before pushing open the heavy oak doors and is immediately assaulted by loud raucous wailing. The king cringes at the noise but swiftly makes his way across the room to the crib nestled against the wall. 

Pip sits regally on his perch near the window and coos a greeting, the bird has been plucking his feathers since Callum has disappeared and a pile of the bird’s feathers lay in a pile underneath the perch. Harrow sighs at the sight but is unsure how to get his companion to stop the habit. It is just a recent development however and hopefully Pip will stop soon enough. 

Harrow comes to a stop at his youngest son’s crib, peering over the lip of the bars. Ezran is on his back, fussing. He wears a red onesie and his short curly hair is more unruly than usual. Big blue eyes watery and tears streaming down his tear raw chubby cheeks.

“Hey,” Harrow whispers softly, reaching into the crib to scoop the young prince up, quietly shushing him as the baby sobs miserably into the king’s shoulder. “Sshh, ssh... it’s okay, it’s okay…”

“Da…” Ezran mumbles into his neck, clutching onto his tunic with small chubby hands. His tears and snot leak through Harrow’s clothes but he doesn’t mind, just begins to shift his weight from foot to foot and gently rocking Ezran. The sway of his body soon lulls Ezran enough so that the baby’s cries soon taper off into quiet hiccups and Harrow closes his eyes tight and presses a hard kiss to the side of the boy’s head. He holds him tight, almost afraid that if he lets go the last good thing in his life will be taken from him. 

Just the thought of losing Ezran makes something horrible twist agonizingly in his gut and he subconsciously holds the boy tighter. He does not know what he would do if he lost Ezran. Harrow does not think he would survive it; the only thing that had kept him going after Sarai died was his boys. And mere weeks after the greatest loss of his life he loses half of his support. 

Grief and regret hit him like a physical blow. Gods, how did this happen? He wonders hysterically. It is like the world is determined to take every bit of happiness and love from him. He refuses to let it take Ezran too. He will not allow it. 

The baby in his arms pushes off from his shoulder to better look around and says “Cal, Cal, Cal,” and Harrow thinks his heart breaks all over again. 

“Callum isn’t here, baby,” he whispers, voice cracking. 

He knows Ezran is too young to understand what he is saying. He knows this. The young prince has just barely begun to parrot words and has yet to even string the most simplest of sentences together yet. At this point, the baby signs more than he talks. Perhaps it is the tone of his voice that sets the baby off, maybe he just starts to cry again because that is just what babies do. Whatever it is Ezran begins to cry anew, small sobs and fresh tears fall down his rosy cheeks. 

Singing had never been something Harrow had excelled at, but he began to sing a lullaby nonetheless. Humming a soft melody in between the verses and rocking Ezran soothingly. He sways from foot to foot, sometimes he paces across the room to the window and steps out onto the balcony to give the boy fresh air before looping back inside to circle his quarters once again. He checks the boy’s cloth to find it clean and he refuses to eat so Harrow is left to wait and soothe the baby until eventually, he quiets down. 

The minutes slowly trickle by but Ezran does not stop crying, he is quieter this time, however. Instead of loud wails, the boy sobs miserably into Harrow’s shoulder, he takes great hiccuping breaths and lets out another round of sobs. He cries for so long and so hard that Harrow begins to feel concerned but he continues singing and swaying anyway. 

Sarai had always been better at this then Harrow. Ezran was a remarkably well-behaved baby, rarely ever cried unless he needed a cloth change or he was especially hungry. His late wife had told him horror stories about when Callum was a baby, while she was pregnant with Ezran in an attempt to terrify Harrow for her own amusement. Apparently Sarai’s first child had been born early into the world and was very sickly, he would cry all night and all day. His wife would laugh and say that she had gone through countless sleepless nights.

Ezran turned out to be the exact opposite, Harrow had been worried that he was to quiet. But Sarai had suggested that maybe their son was just a quiet soul. 

Under normal circumstances, Harrow could have rocked his son for hours, ever patient and loving. But right now he felt restless, wanting to get back to help Amaya organize the search parties and just do something. He feels useless. He has been up in the palace nearly this entire time just waiting for news. Viren has insisted he stay within the palace in case this was a case of kidnapping and some unknown enemy is trying to lure Harrow out of the palace. So far no ransom has been demanded, however. 

Harrow almost wishes this was a case of ransom. He would pay any price for his son and at least then he could do something. But this? This waiting for the unknown is killing him. 

Eventually, his son quiets once more and Harrow gingerly moves them to the softest recliner in his quarters and settles down. His back sings in relief and Harrow finds himself sinking into the soft cushions with a sigh, he rests Ezran securely on his lap. The baby lets out small whimpers every couple of moments but besides that, he has settled down. The king gingerly cleans his son’s face of snot and tears with the sleeve of his tunic and continues to sing. The deep baritone of his voice lulls Ezran and the prince’s eyes begin to droop sluggishly. 

The stress of the last several days catches up to him and Harrow doesn’t remember ever being so exhausted. Without realizing it he sinks deeper into the chair, his eyes sliding closed and he slips into a deep sleep still sitting up with his son held securely in his arms. 

Harrow wakes up late the next morning, blinking his blue eyes open he squints sluggishly around the room. The sun has already risen passed the horizon and no trace of the early morning colors are in the sky. Pip isn’t in the room, probably out flying. Ezran sleeps peacefully in his lap, thumb held loosely in his mouth. He feels a small, gentle smile tug at his lips and Harrow carefully pushes a lock of his son’s curls out of his face. 

He stays there for a long moment, just looking. He wishes he had nothing to worry about, that he could just stay here all day and look after his son but he feels a sharp need to get up and get back to looking for Callum. He tells himself that once his son is found and back home he will allow himself time to just be there with Ezran, but right now he has to leave. Just for a little bit. 

He changes Ezran’s cloths, the boy barely even stirring before falling right back asleep. He must have exhausted himself from all of the crying he had done the night before. Harrow gently sets the prince back into his crib and walks to his wardrobe to swiftly change his dirties clothes and pull his hair back and out of his face. He splashes water on his face and swiftly exits, his personal guard standing straighter as he opens the door. 

“Anything to report?” Harrow asks his guard. 

“General Amaya has something to report, she said it could wait until you awoken, however, and she is waiting for you in your office, your majesty.” One of them says, by the look in the guard’s eye, it is not good news. The now-familiar throb of disappointment throbs in his stomach and Harrow sighs. But he is sure that if Amaya had found anything truly important that he would have been woken immediately so he tries his best not to worry too much. 

He steps into his office to find that the mess he had made yesterday has been cleaned up and a map has been erected on one of the walls with flags and markers sticking out at various points. Amaya and Gren are speaking to one of the castle’s researchers, the general swiftly signing and Gren just as swiftly translating. Everything goes quiet as Harrow steps in. 

“What have you found?” Harrow practically demands, eager to know. 

Amaya stares at him a moment before reaching under the desk and pulling out a familiar piece of red fabric. Callum’s scarf. It had been a gift from Harrow himself the first time he had met the boy, and it had been something that Callum wore almost every day much to Harrow’s satisfaction. Harrow’s stomach drops. The fabric is stained and slightly damp, it must have been found recently.

“We found this caught on a tree branch in the East river five miles from here,” Amaya signs, walking over to the map and pointing to one of the markers. 

“Half a mile before that there are signs of something climbing out of the river, the hounds confirmed this to be Callum. He fell into the river, yes. But he made it out.” she gestures to another maker slightly before the other. 

Harrow knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up but relief fills him to the brim and his shoulders sag. This is great news. Callum managed to survive the harsh rapids and waterfalls of the East River and had crawled out alive. But before he can get his hopes up any farther Amaya continues, Gren’s voicing for her.

“We tracked him several hundred feet from there where… where we found evidence of a humungous creature. We haven’t identified it yet, but whatever it was, it is huge. From there Callum and the creature’s trails disappear. We suspect… we suspect it either took him or...” Amaya cannot finish and Harrow doesn’t think he could bare it if she did. 

Harrow manages to croak “What kind of evidence?” through the rock in his throat. Devastation begins to choke him. 

Amaya looks at him with a frown, “It knocked over multiple trees and we found several tracks; it is a quadruped with four toes and we estimate it is far bigger than a two-story building. Maybe bigger.” 

“Do you have any theories on what it is?” 

“Given that a creature of that immense size manages to leave no trace, we suspect it is a dragon,” the researcher pipes up, gesturing to the many books that Harrow recognizes to be from the library. “The trackers also found what they believe to be where the beast landed, it laid down to rest before making its way to Callum where it laid down again before walking to a nearby clearing and taking off.”

This is… the last thing Harrow expected. After everything, they managed to find where Callum went exactly, that he survived being swept down a raging river of all things only to be taken or eaten or worse by a dragon. The king stumbles back until his back rests against the wall, breathing is becoming difficult. He can’t handle this, he can’t…

But the Amaya is there, right in front of him. This close he can see her eyes are red-rimmed from crying and she looks just as broken as feels. The deaf general swiftly tugs Harrow to her and wraps her arms around him and the king does not need any translation he clings to her desperately. A few tears manage to slip out and Harrow burrows his face into Amaya’s shoulder. The woman does the same to him and they stand there together for a long few moments to share in their pain. 

Eventually, they do part, Gren and the researcher respectively looking away. “Do you think this is an attack from Xadia?” Harrow wonders hollowly. 

“We are not sure,” The researcher says. “It is still unknown how involved dragons are in the politics of Xadia, and reports say that Thunder was seen at the border during the time of Callum’s disappearance. It could not have been him.”

“I am going to travel to Lux Aurea to question the Sunfire elves,” Amaya says, face stony. 

Harrow blanches, “What? Amaya, no! It’s far too dangerous.”

“The Sunfire elves are a prideful people,” Amaya signs over him, “They will not kill me if a surrender myself to them.” 

“They may not kill you but they will not allow you to return to Katolis!” Harrow argues.

“I cannot do nothing, Harrow.” she signs determinedly. And the two glare at each other long and hard and something in her gaze makes something within Harrow give and he understands. If he could leave and question Xadia he would. But as much as he is a father he is also a king and he despises that he has to choose between his family and his people like this. 

After a long long moment, King Harrow pulls back his shoulders and says “As your king I order you to return home safely,” he tells her and Amaya gives him a genuine smile and pulls him into yet another hug. Harrow almost doesn’t want to let her go. 

From there they all begin to plan, Harrow writes a formal letter to the queen of Lux Aurea for Amaya to take with. The general plans to head to the border with commander Gren and wait for a patrol of Sunfire elves to find her and from there she will learn if Xadia has Callum. Harrow knows it is a fool's plan but they are desperate and logically he knows he cannot stop Amaya when she has put her mind to something. 

“Please be safe,” he signs to her as she is getting ready to leave. 

His sister in law smiles at him and raises her hand to say “I should be telling you the same thing!” 

He gives her a watery smile and walks with her the entire way to the courtyard and helps her tack up her and Gren’s horses while the commander runs to their rooms to get the rest of their supplies. They work in companionable silence and Harrow doesn’t think there is any more he can say and Gren returns all too soon with their bags and everything seems to be happening so quickly and Harrow gives Amaya one last hug before she swings onto her horse and nudges the mare’s sides. 

He watches her go for a long silent moment before shouting “Amaya!” Gren gestures to the general and she turns to look back at Harrow. The king gestures to himself then crosses his arms across his just before pointing at Amaya. I love you. Amaya looks surprised a moment before quickly returning the gesture and Harrow feels his heart swell. 

He lingers in the courtyard long after they are gone. He doesn’t know what to do with himself now, there is nothing he can do except wait for Amaya to return. He begins to walk aimlessly through the castle, turning this way and that. He doesn’t want to go back to his office. Doesn’t even know what he wants to do. His thoughts travel to Callum once again and he wants so badly for him to be here and… he realizes with a start that he has come to a stop in front of Callum’s bedroom. He hasn’t been here since before Callum went missing.

Harrow stands at the door for a long long time, shakily he reaches for the knob and quietly steps into Callum’s room, the bed is unmade and art supplies litter the desk and for a moment he can almost imagine that the small boy is just around the corner tucked into the little nook at the windowsill. The room is dim, the curtains half-drawn, and beams of soft light poor in through the gaps. Dust motes float in the light of the sun and the king thinks that it is remarkably quiet here. 

With a heavy heart he makes his way farther into the room to the desk, Callum was remarkably good at art even for his age. It made a small part of him swell in pride at how talented the boy was, despite the situation. The drawing he was last working on was… of Sarai. It was stiff and disproportionate but it was no doubt his late wife. Great care went into the eyes and deep erase marks smudged up most of the paper. Gingerly, he picked up the paper to get a closer look, revealing another drawing beneath it. This one was of Harrow himself, sitting at his desk and writing something down. Callum must have drawn it during one of the many times he snuck into Harrow’s office to just sit on one of the chairs. He had told the king that he was hiding from Soren once and Harrow had never minded the company.

A dark splotch appeared on the drawing of Sarai and Harrow jerked in surprise as the teardrop soaked into the paper and smudged the charcoal lines of her nose. He walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sank down onto the unruly sheets, bowing his head as he stared at the childish drawing of his wife that his son had made with silent tears streaming down his face. 

The paper slipped from his hands as he pressed them to his face instead, warm tears dripped down his face and small hiccuping sobs. He wishes so bad that Sarai was here; she would know what to do. She wouldn’t have allowed Callum to run off in the first place. She would've been watching him. But instead of doing that Harrow had been grieving on his own, unable to look at the boy who was now his sole responsibility. 

“Harrow?” a familiar voice says at the doorway, he turns miserably to see Viren standing at the door. His old friend looks devastated at Harrow’s state and the king cannot find it within himself to be ashamed. He feels too broken. 

Viren steps into Callum’s room and takes a seat next to Harrow, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harrow leans into the touch, greedily taking any comfort he can get. 

“Is…” he coughs a couple of times, “Is there… a spell you could use to find my son?” Amaya had gone to ask but Harrow does not trust the elves of Xadia to be truthful and if Viren can help him find Callum faster than he doesn’t care. Even now he isn’t sure if Callum is alive and he does not know what he will do if all of his hope gets shattered. 

Viren is quiet for a long moment, “I will need to do research,” the man admits. “And it will take a long time and… resources,” Harrow knows what he means by that, magical creatures. He convinces himself it is for the greater good. 

“I do not care,” He tells his friend, he feels almost numb. 

Viren leans against him comfortingly, “I will do everything in my power to find Callum, Harrow. I promise.” 

And Harrow smiles at his dear friend, relief filling him to the brim.

Chapter Text

To say that Sol Regem was completely unprepared for taking care of a human child would be an understatement.

He knew absolutely nothing of the more delicate aspects of humans -- and that included raising and care of their children. Sol Regem was a warrior, a king; he was not a caretaker. He does not think he is capable of being a suitable guardian for a hatchling, let alone one who is not a dragon.

Humans are remarkably fragile, he knows. They are easily damaged. And are soft and squishy, with no armor, no claws, and no fangs to protect themselves. Even the adults are nearly as helpless as a newborn hatchling, but even baby dragons are able to utilize magic just days after they hatch to protect themselves. The danger of humans comes in the sheer number of them and the strange people machines they create in lieu of spells. 

If there is one thing Sol Regem can say in respect to humans is their creativity and resourcefulness. If he did not know better he would think that a creature without magic would not be able to build and thrive as humans have. He is not so prideful as to admit that humans do have redeeming qualities -- as few and far between as they may be. 

Unlike humans, dragons lived very frugal lifestyles (the myth of hoards was sorely exaggerated, dragons did not covet human treasures). They slept when they were tired and hunted when they were hungry, and did not carry belongings with them. He knew humans and elves alike liked to collect things however and would have their own little hoards of rudimentary items that held no purpose. 

But he did not know which of these items was actually a necessity so when Callum had expressed distress at not having a ‘ blankie’ whilst they were flying over open water, nearly halfway to the border… Sol Regem had panicked. Thinking that perhaps this blankie was a necessity for the human child and nearly turned back to go and try to find this mystery item. 

He did not know anything about children. Did not know if they brat would drop dead if he ate something particular, didn’t know if there were specific things he needed to know. Not to mention his blindness added on a whole new layer of difficulty to this task he had unthinkingly set upon himself. He was flying blind, quite literally, and felt a strange twist of nervousness in his gut. 

But alas Sol Regem had learned that the human’s blankie was not a necessity (at least an emergency one) and his nervousness had turned into annoyance. The sun dragon had never jumped to conclusions like that before. But when Callum had sadly mentioned that he did not have his blanket with him, the dragon had abruptly flared his wings and stopped them mid-flight with something like panic in his stomach. Only to be told as they hovered hundreds of feet above the sound of Katolis by a suddenly hasty Callum that it was not important. The child had started to apologize over and over again and buried himself deep in the gold dragon’s fur and started to mumble words Sol Regem could not make out into his fur. 

He had not been annoyed at the human but at himself. Such a simple sentence and sent him scrambling and that was an uncomfortable feeling for the usually austere drake. Maybe the human had a contagion of some sort and had infected Sol Regem. Perhaps he should drop the human into the sound and just head back home? No… the dragon thinks that his conscience would come to nag him about it later if he did. That would get annoying. 

The two of them had crossed the border just as the sun slipped past the horizon. Callum had gasped loudly at the sight of the lava river and if the sun dragon slowed down his flight so that the boy could admire the magma flow for just a few minutes… well, he would deny it with his entire being. He felt the human lean over the side of his neck to get a better look and growled at the boy to not do so. Without sight, Sol Regem would have no way of catching the boy if he fell. They were close to the ground as well so he would have no time to try and do so anyway. 

The thick ash and pyroclastic residue in the sky began to affect Callum after a few minutes, however. The boy began to wheeze and cough harshly, his eyes watering at the burn. Concerned, the dragon was quick to angle his wings and glide away from the magma flow as quickly as possible, rumbling a soothing noise to the child. Once they exited the ashey clouds Callum took a great gasping breath of fresh air, practically collapsing onto the dragon’s neck.

“That was so cool,” the boy panted, Sol Regem snorted. 

From there they flew low to the ground, the archdragon broadening his senses for the familiarness of his post. It took longer than he would’ve liked and he ended up circling the canyons multiple times before he felt comfortable enough to gingerly land. If he did not have such precious cargo he would not have been so cautious in his descent but Sol Regem worried of knocking the child off his back if he faltered in his landing. 

Callum was still awake, if just barely “This is Xadia?” he wondered dubiously as Sol Regem followed one of the many scent trails he had set up centuries ago to find his way to his cave. Calling it a cave was very generous, it was more of a steep overhang carved out by an ancient river that had long dried up. The stone walls layered with horizontal stripes and the ground of his home smoothed out by Sol Regem’s scales over the centuries. It was a modest home, Sol Regem would admit, but it was sheltered and that was all he had ever really needed. 

“A part of it, yes. I will show you more in the morning,” he promised through a huge yawn as he crawled into his home and practically collapsed onto the ground with a great sigh. His shoulders ached with exhaustion and without the light of the sun to energize him Sol Regem felt his eyes droop with fatigue. He was not as young as he used to be and such a long flight had tired him out. 

Callum had been too tired to question him more, and the boy had burrowed himself into the soft fur at the nape of the archdragon’s neck, just behind his horns and was asleep within moments. The gold dragon was acutely aware of the small creature and took great care not to move much as he shifted into a more comfortable position to fall asleep. He was nervous about accidentally crushing the boy and woke up every couple of hours to make sure the boy was still safely tucked up on his back. 

The next morning Sol Regem had learned his first lesson on human caretaking: humans ate several times a day. 

A strange concept for him; he hunted once every couple of weeks at most. The sun dragon had no need to hunt often, his magic sustained his massive size and if he ever did feel fatigued all he had to do was lay in the sun for a few hours and his energy would be restored. Not to mention that his blindness made hunting exceedingly difficult and tedious so he only ventured out to hunt when he had to. But, according to a very sleepy Callum, he wanted breakfast. 

The archdragon had never heard of breakfast. He did not know what that was. It could be a word that Callum made up -- children did that right? Make up words? By the sun, Sol Regem was feeling very unsure of himself. 

According to the human child breakfast was the first meal of the day, which signified that he was supposed to eat multiple times in a day. Which seemed ludicrous, and a waste of food. Nonetheless, Sol Regem had set out to find the child breakfast. He had no way of getting human food and without sight, he would not be able to find any plants Callum could eat even if he knew anything about that sort of thing. 

And so he ordered Callum to stay in the cave while he ventured out to find the human a meal for the morning, which ended up being a poor little moon ibex with glowing horns that the arch dragon managed to corner and kill within an hour. Not too bad for a millenia-year-old blind dragon if he does say so himself. 

With the dead beast held gingerly in his jaws, Sol Regem began to follow the scent trail back to the cave. A large boulder in his path making him stumble and bite hard into the ibex, causing blood to flood his mouth and drip through his teeth and down his chin. Grumbling in irritation, the archdragon smashed the stone with his tail before continuing on his way. He set down his catch onto the ground in front of the overhang he called home, licking the blood from his chin with a forked tongue. 

“Callum,” the dragon called. No answer.

His scars shifted as he narrowed his brow, scenting the air with a great inhale of breath through his nostrils. His stomach gave a strange twisting pull as he could not sense the boy anywhere near. In his abrupt panic he let out a short trilling bark, a noise the archdragon’s own mother had used to call him to her when he was just a hatchling. The archdragon would always respond to the call with a bark of his own but now no answer came. He tried again, just a tad more desperately. Same answer. 

A deep rumbling snarl of rage ripped through his throat and the dragon snapped at the air in his anger. Damn it! He lowered his head to the ground, puffing out a breath onto the sandy stones, billowing up a cloud of dust. His nostrils flared as he caught a trail leading out of the cave and to the south, luckily he could not pick up any other smells besides his own. Tail lashing, the great dragon began to follow the trail. 

Thank the primal, Callum had not wandered far. It only took a few short minutes of tracking for him to stumble upon the boy. He was crouched down trying to catch a glowing bug radiating moon primal magic. Thankfully the insect was not dangerous and the worst it would do to the human child was give him a little nip, if that. But there were dangerous creatures that lurked in every corner of Xadia and Sol Regem’s stomach did a weird churning at the thought of the boy innocently trying to pick up a soulfang serpent; or worse. Luckily for the child, and Sol Regem’s sanity, those wretched snakes did not wander out of the Midnight Desert often and he had never seen them this far west. 

But soulfang serpents were not the only dangerous creature in Xadia. There were sun primal scorpions that could burn a human from the inside out. A pack of wild moonstriders could tear Callum apart. The more Sol Regem thought of the dangers the more his chest constricted so he mentally shoved the thoughts away and his fears abruptly turned to anger.

“Callum.” He growled, lowering his head to the boy’s level. Callum looked up at him and he could practically see the innocent beaming smile the boy sent his way. 

“Regem!” So far the human had yet to call him by his full name and Sol Regem tried very hard not to be too annoyed by it. 

The gold dragon bared his teeth, “I told you to stay put,” his voice was booming in his anger and Callum immediately cowered down. 

He mumbled, “I didn’t go far…” 

He bit at the air again with a sharp snap, an angry clicking noise reverberating in the hollow cage of his ribs as he gingerly leaned down to scoop the boy up by the scruff of his jacket. Callum whined pitifully but the dragon dutifully ignored him and stalked back to his cave where he plopped the boy down in front of the ibex. 

“Here’s your breakfast,” he grumbled. His mood had not had the chance to lift yet and his aura was dark and sour. Callum didn’t say anything, merely stared at the dead animal. “Is something wrong?” the dragon prodded. 

The human stayed quiet for a long moment before murmuring, “You… you killed it?” 

Sol Regem was confused, “Yes, it is food. Eat it.” 

Callum shook his head vigorously “No!” he all but wailed. 

“Do humans not eat meat?” he growled, heat boiling in his chest as the boy backed away from the bloody ibex. Sol Regem hated the waste of food and never killed more than he needed, if Callum didn’t eat the meal then the dragon would but he had hunted it down for the child and annoyance began to grow.

“No… no they do.” Callum sounded faint. 

“Then I don’t see the problem.” his voice was harsh, distantly he knew he should reign in his temper but he didn’t understand the child’s reaction and so he began to lash out. “You said you were hungry. Eat.”

“I… I…” And then the sharp smell of salt filled the air and Sol Regem realized with a start that the boy was beginning to cry. The dragon was thrown, taking a step back as the sobs began to grow louder. Surely his tone was not so harsh as to send the child into tears? 

“Why are you crying?” he hissed but Callum didn’t say anything and continued to sob miserably. 

Sol Regem was completely out of his depth and did not know what caused this sudden outburst or how to fix it. By the sun, frustration grew within him and for fear of snapping cruelly at the crying child he began to turn and with a snort of flames, he quietly stalked away from the sobbing child.

Dragons do not usually have such emotional outbursts. And when on the rare occasion the sun dragon felt overwhelmed with emotion it came out as anger instead of sadness and preferred to be alone. He had no reason to think humans would be any different. But… after a few minutes Callum was still crying. The sobs and died down to pitiful whimpers and sniffles and there was a strange twisting in the dragon’s stomach at the sound. 

With a sigh he turned his head back to the boy, “Callum,” he said, his voice gentler then it had been before. 

“What,” the boy sniffled, he sounded frustrated and his words were short and clipped through his tears. 

“Come here.”

At first, he did not think the boy would obey but after a long moment, the boy came closer, standing in front of Sol Regem and staring at the ground stubbornly as silent tears still welled up in his eyes. Now that he had managed to reign in his temper some, the boy’s actions were somewhat endearing, in a strange way. 

“Can you tell me why you’re crying?” He was not a patient creature by nature, and not a parental one either. But something in him gave him the ability in that moment to keep his words steady and soft. 

Callum sniffled, “I… I’ve never…”

“You’ve never…?” he prompted

“I’ve never… seen a… a dead…” then Callum began to cry again in earnest. But Sol Regem could figure out what he was going to say anyway. He had never seen a dead thing before. Which… Sol Regem didn’t understand why seeing a dead creature would cause the boy to fall into hysterics. 

“Surely you have eaten meat before,” He tried to understand. 

“It’s different!” Callum nearly wailed. By the sun, humans were strange. 

The gold dragon let out a puff of smoke, the boy was overreacting. It was just a dead ibex. Sol Regem had killed thousands of creatures in his life: elves, humans, even other dragons. He had laid waste to armies without remorse or a second thought because he was doing what he thought was right. Burning innocent humans alive for the mistakes of their leaders was unfortunate but it had to be done and Sol Regem had come to terms with the despair he has wrought in his life. He does not regret any of it and he does not think what he did for the sake of Xadia and the conservation of the purity of magic was wrong. 

The train of thought of burning humans alive brought a faint memory to him, not of humans but of elves… in particular, a memory of a group of Sunfire elves gathered around a fire roasting a boar… “You eat meat burnt yes?” Of course! He got to his feet and walked over to the ibex, stepping over Callum on the way.

Callum sniffled, “Er… cooked, why…” he did not get to finish his question because Sol Regem fueled the fire in his chest and the armored plates on his throat began to glow as he let out a stream of fire onto the carcass. Callum eeped a sound of shock at the heat emanating from the stream of flames. 

Once he let off the magic, the carcass was charred black and Sol Regem lifted his head with a strange sense of pride in his chest. He could take care of one measly human, no problem. He was an archdragon of the sun primal, he has lived for over a thousand years and was once crowned the Dragon King and reigned for hundreds of years, he could provide for children. 

The human was quiet for a moment, “I think you’re supposed to burn it slower,” he said dubiously as he walked closer to the carcass. 

“I am a master of the sun primal, I know how to burn things.” Sol Regem snips.

With a stick Callum had picked up from the ground he poked the charred carcass, “Sure…” He says with a strange inflection that makes Sol Regem puff up in indignation. “But I don’t think you’re supposed to burn burn it; I think you’re supposed to… only burn it a little bit.” 

Sol Regem huffs, “Just eat it.” he grumbles. 

Callum makes a queasy noise at that and shakes his head vigorously, “No, it’s burnt!” 

In the end, the child eats from various berry bushes he finds in the crevices of the rocks along the canyon. And Sol Regem prays to the sun that the boy doesn’t get sick but the boy insists that he knows what the berries are and that they’re safe. 

Chapter Text

Sol Regem prays to the sun for patience as he begins with his original plan of teaching Callum sun primal magic. 

Teaching was not something that Sol Regem would say he excelled at, he had done it before with young fire drakes back from before he was crowned king but teaching a dragon how to effectively fight in aerial combat was very very different from teaching a young boy the very basics of magic. 

Thank the primal, Callum was very eager to learn and for the most part, listened attentively to the archdragon’s lectures and demonstrations with an eagerness that was almost infectious. Callum’s innocent excitement when Sol Regem had slowly over the course of two days showed him how to properly channel his magic to his fingertips to write spells in the air had even made the old dragon smile (he thinks the boy has since used this skill to draw things in the air but is unsure). 

Learning magic was much like learning a different language. Each primal source had its own unique symbols and phrasings to properly utilize and manipulate them. So Sol Regem takes up the long tedious task of showing Callum how to understand this unique language.

However, dragons do not use magic the same way that elves do. And Callum's magic is much more similar to an elf than a dragon to begin with. Of course, Sol Regem has mastered every aspect of sun primal magic so this is just a minor inconvenience. He does not know specific more complex spells that elves use and if new techniques have been created in the last few centuries he would have no way of knowing that either. 

He starts simple enough. And learns quickly that Callum's magic is far far different from anything he has ever experienced. It is not that the boy has sun primal energy within him but that he can manipulate his own magic into that of the sun primal. It is fascinating. 

Sol Regem has come to the conclusion that Callum's magic is potential. It is a blank slate that he can change at will into something else. At least, as long as he has a reference to go off of. He cannot change his magic into something he has not felt before. But the minuscule primal energy that comes off of the few creatures Callum has interacted thus far in Xadia is not enough either. 

Sol Regem had had the boy find an ocean primal water insect from the nearby river that flowed between the canyons to see if he could get an impression of ocean magic off the small bug. But Callum had said, frustrated, that it wasn't enough. The boy had explained it like if there was a faint smell in the air that you could not quite place. 

From there they learned that Callum needed a massive source of magic to be able to properly understand how the primal energy felt. And from there he could change his own pure magic into a primal source. At least, that was the theory thus far. Callum had yet to actually use any of the other types of magic and Sol Regem had not ignored the possibility that the child could only use sun primal magic. 

The idea of Callum being able to utilize perhaps all of the primal sources was perhaps a little far fetched, considering what little information the archdragon had so far. But the idea was also very appealing and if it were the case then perhaps Callum could open new doors into the understanding of how magic worked. Perhaps a little wishful thinking on Sol Regem's part, but still an interesting idea nonetheless. 

He might be getting a little too far ahead of himself, the gold dragon chastised himself. Callum had only been learning primal magic for about a week and it was slow going. Very slow going. Distantly, he knows that he should not expect such things from a mere child who is not yet even a decade old but Sol Regem had gotten his hopes up a little too high, he thinks. He had expected the boy to excel at primal magic, and truthfully he did. But it took days for Sol Regem to keep the boy still enough for him to actually learn anything. 

Callum was much more interested in playing games and exploring than sitting down for hours at a time while Sol Regem tried to lecture him. And he had begun to figure out how to tell when the boy was at his limit for the day. Sol Regem had found a tentative balance between work and play and learned pretty quickly if let one side fall too far than he would have a very very grumpy Callum. 

When Callum had thrown his very first tantrum it had been in frustration at not being able to conjure a spell and Sol Regem had been thrown as the boy yelled out and stormed off to cry pitifully to himself. The archdragon had left him to his tantrum and simply laid his head down with a huff. Humans were so strange. 

The fact that Sol Regem did not rush to comfort the boy seemed to make him more distraught and he had shouted that he wanted to go home. Which… had sent Sol Regem into a mild panic. So far he had managed to keep the boy distracted enough not to ask about when he was going back home. Which if Sol Regem could help it would be never. And it was becoming more and more difficult to distract the boy enough to where he would forget about it for a time. Despite his age, Callum was not stupid and was beginning to mention it more and more and Sol Regem dreaded the day when he would not let the subject drop. 

Lying to the human-made something in his stomach squeeze uncomfortably. But he knew it had to be done. Callum was… special, and could not be allowed back into the hands of humans. No matter how much it hurt Sol Regem to upset him. 

Despite many of the hiccups in the road, however, Callum was actually learning remarkably fast. It is easier for the boy to perform spells when he has just used Sol Regem as a sort of primal stone since the feeling of the dragon's magic is fresh in the boy's mind. But outside of that, he struggles immensely with manipulating his magic in the right way. 

"Your magic is like… like a wildfire," Callum tells him sleepily as he curls up in the down soft fur along the dragon's spine one night a few days after their lessons begin. "It's, like, really super hot and I feel like it's going to burn me sometimes. But it doesn't. It's… nice." 

Sol Regem did not know what to say to that so he had stayed quiet. 

But now, just over a week of having Callum in his possession, he lays across from the human and tries his best to be patient. The child fidgets and whines from where he sits on the warm stone in front of the dragon. 

“The sun primal is life and destruction. It is warmth and nurturing, and fire and death. Find a balance between the two natures and feel the sun’s magic soak into you through your skin.” Sol Regem is lecturing, and can tell that Callum is drifting and not really paying attention. The archdragon had begun to try and teach the boy meditation techniques but so far the boy just seemed to want to run around and do exactly the opposite of what Sol Regem told him to -- and that was to stay still. He gives a sharp clicking noise that refocuses the child's attention with a muttered apology. 

He can practically see the boy squinting his brow in concentration, screwing up his face as he tries to feel what Sol Regem is explaining. They have been at this for over an hour and the dragon can tell that the boy is almost at his limit for sitting still. Annoyance threatens to make him snap meanly at the child but he valiantly reigns in his temper. If there is one thing Sol Regem hates it is being ignored and while he knows the boy isn't intentionally trying to disrespect him it still grates on him. 

"What's the point of this?" Callum suddenly whines, falling back to lay sprawled on the ground. 

"The point," the dragon stresses, "is to understand how the sun primal feels. To  be able to sense how it interacts with the world around you and how to better understand the magic within yourself." 

"Well, it's boring!" Callum whines, kicking his feet a little. "I already know what the sun primal feels like!"

Sol Regem snorted, his scars stretching as he raised a non-existent brow, "Really? Conjure a fire sphere." 

There was a long pause and then an even longer whine as Callum rolled onto his feet and the dragon felt the pulse of magic as the boy began the spell. He said the words clearly and confidently, but the symbol he wrote in the air was shaky and his magic was too cool and too uneven to make a proper version of the spell. If Sol Regem could see he would see the symbol in the air was uneven and wavering, warping to the sides as if it were wet paper. 

And then with a burst of heat, a tightly compact ball of flame flickered to life in between them. Callum could only hold it for a couple of seconds before it began to fall apart and after only half a minute it disintegrated entirely and he was left sweaty and panting. 

“This is stupid!” Callum snarled, fighting back tears of frustration. 

“It has barely been a week since you have started to learn…” Sol Regem commented meaningfully. 

“It’s like learning to fight with a sword all over again -- I just can’t get it!” he rolls over slightly to bury his face in his arms and kick his legs in frustration. 

Sol Regem sighed, “You cannot expect to be masterful at something after just starting.”

“But you can do it so well!”

“ I,” the dragon stresses, “have had over a thousand years of practice. I am titled an archdragon because I have mastered the sun primal. Truthfully for only just beginning to learn you are doing remarkably well. You managed to cast a spell on your very first try, and that is not something to take lightly.” he does not give out compliments lightly and he frowns slightly as he can practically see Callum’s beaming smile at the praise. 

“Is there a difference between an archdragon and a normal one?” Callum wonders. 

He recognizes the question for what it is, a way to distract Sol Regem so they cannot continue their lesson. But he supposes that teaching the boy more about dragons is also important and there is genuine curiosity in the boy’s tone. 

“Generally, age is a predominant factor.” Sol Regem explains. “To be titled an archdragon one must master their primal source and that can take hundreds of years. Dragons never stop growing and cannot die of old age so size can be a factor as well. It is hard for other creatures to be able to tell, but dragons just know when they are in the presence of an archdragon.”

“Oh,” Callum says, pulling his legs up to his chest to rest his chin on his knees. “How many archdragons are there?” 

“Well, there are the dragon king and queen, Avizandum and Zubeia. The great sea wraith, Aecoragrim; and his mate Lunyx, the moon chaser. The sleeping mountain, Solum Mons. Adstrum Fax, the star eater… and quite a few more. I have not seen many of them in centuries, however, and quite a few I have only heard of.”

“Why is So… Solar… why is one of them called the sleeping mountain?” Callum wonders eagerly. 

“Solum Mons is the oldest living creature in the world, he was the first earth dragon and he now sleeps for the east, his body so large it has become a vast mountain range that stretches hundreds of miles. He has been asleep for millennia and it is said he will only awaken when the sun falls from the sky so that he may catch it in his wings and consume it. Though that is just an old legend.” Callum is transfixed, eager for more information and practically begs Sol Regem to tell him about the lovers of the moon and sea. 

“They started out as enemies. They fought each other relentlessly and with vicious hatred. But over the centuries their hatred changed to something more and they eventually found peace and love within each other. Aecoragrim is a nasty drake with a temper worse than mine, but Lunyx brings the best out of him, I think.” 

“You know them?” 

“Indeed, I have crossed paths with Lunyx more than a few times. He insists that we are brothers since we are of the moon and sun primal; I beg to differ.” Callum giggles at the playful edge to his tone. “But Aecoragrim is… he is a ruthless and dangerous individual. He had been my main challenger for the throne centuries ago.”

“But you won, right?” the child asks innocently. 

Sol Regem grins, “I won,” he says cheekily. 

Callum smiles at that, hugging his knees tight. “What about the… the star eater?” 

At that, Sol Regem sobers. “Adstrum Fax is of the archdragons that I have not met, and I pray I never will,” he says, perhaps a bit dramatically, but it gets Callum to scoot closer to listen attentively. 

“She was of the star primal and was a ruthless and deadly force millennia ago. Truthfully, it is not known if she is even still alive, no one has seen her for thousands of years. She is… she is more of an urban legend. It is said that she hunted dragons to near extinction, which is why even thousands of years later there are so few left.” Dragons are solitary creatures and it is rare for two dragons to pair up to begin with, and conceiving a hatchling can take hundreds of years and even then it is not guaranteed. A dragon hatchling is a blessing that is almost divine, and even still their numbers are slowly dwindling. It is a somber thought. 

“Why did she do it?” 

“Because she was insane,” is all Sol Regem says, it is a story he never really liked and hates to think about, and is not eager to tell it in detail to Callum.

“Can we take a break now?” Callum wonders a moment later.

The archdragon snorts, but acquiesces. 

Sol Regem lays atop a ledge far above the ground later that same day, the sun’s rays warming the scars on his face. He is splayed half on his side with his wings tucked comfortably and his tail draping off the ledge and brushing the ground below. He dozes in and out of sleep, basking in the last light of day.

He imagines what the sky looks like, bright orange with thick pink clouds. The dark blue of night beginning to creep up at the sides. He yearns to see it for himself but settles helplessly for just imagining 

Something tugs at the feathery tip of his tail and the gold dragon lifts his head to angle behind him to better listen in amusement as Callum clumsily climbs up the length of tail, using the bony spikes as handholds. He wiggles his tail playfully and he hears the human whine in protest and lets out a breath of laughter. The boy hauls himself up and safely onto the ledge, panting loudly as he rolls onto his feet and skips up near the dragon’s front. 

“Hello!” Callum greets enthusiastically, his breath still labored. 

He smiles, “Good evening, Callum.” 

Callum settles back and sits next to the dragon and looks out over the sunset. Sol Regem lays his head back down and feels a strange sense of contentment. 

“Where did you run off to?” he questions the boy. 

“Nowhere…” He can sense Callum’s innocent grin and growls at the boy, nudging him gently with his snout making the boy burst into laughter. 

They settle into a comfortable silence, Callum entertaining himself by stacking flat stones on Sol Regem’s paw and the dragon simply relaxes into the feeling of soft companionship. It has been a long long time since he has had anyone simply be in his company. It is… nice. 

“Hey, Regem?” Callum speaks after a long while. 

“Yes, Callum?” he wonders with the same inflection. 

Callum looks up at the gold dragon, “How did you become blind?” 

He hesitates for a long moment, waits for the anger at being reminded of his condition. But it never comes. Instead, a sort of calm sadness settles within him, it is not necessarily bad and Sol Regem finds himself in just the right mood to speak, “I was arrogant and underestimated my opponent.” he admits. 

The human boy makes a small noise and says “My mom used to say that arrogance is born from ignorance, so it is really important to learn everything you can so that you can look at the world with kindness.” 

Something almost like regret hits Sol Regem but he quickly shoves that away, “Your mother sounds very wise,” he allows. 

“She was the coolest,” the boy says, sad. The archdragon turns his face to the warmth of the setting sun; he has never felt sadness for a human’s sake before. It is a strange feeling. 

His views on humans as a whole have not changed. They are weaker and lesser, after all. But… but he supposes Callum is giving him a new perspective he had not thought of before. 

Magic has been a part of his world all of his life; it is everything to him. It is what makes him him, and what shapes and molds the world around him. The primal sources are sacred and special in a way that is indescribable to someone who does not already know. Magic is life, and change, and everything. 

But humans… humans do not have magic. A fact that Sol Regem would not believe if he had not sensed it himself. But an entire race of creatures does not possess magic of any kind. It is almost… blasphemous. It is wrong .  

He shudders to think about how a creature could live without the warm thrum of primal energy running through their veins. How they could feel happiness or joy or anything. They lack what every single other creature in Sol Regem’s life had and he had come to the reasonable conclusion that for this they were different and did not deserve the same rights as citizens of Xadia. 

During his reign as king Sol Regem had allowed his human neighbors to live like someone would allow an ant colony to thrive. They were simply so far below him it did not matter to him if they lived or died. Sure, he kept half an eye on them to make sure their infestation did not spread any farther than what he was comfortable with, but for the most part, he left them to their own devices. 

But then those cursed ants began to rebel and… and they began to steal innocent creature’s magic. When Sol Regem had first learned of this he had been horrified. Just the thought… made his lip curl and his stomach churn almost painfully. Dark magic was like taking someone’s soul and ripping it from their body to corrupt it into something horrible and wrong. Magic was pure and light, and humans had taken one of the most amazing and beautiful things in the world and destroyed it for their own selfish needs. 

Humans accused him of arrogance but they were even worse than him. They were and still are desecrating something pure and powerful that they did not have any understanding of and mangling it into something even dark and even more powerful. 

Sol Regem had learned the hard way to not underestimate the power dark magic had. He had felt the destructed force of the accursed magic for himself and had learned to fear it. Dark magic was dangerous and horrible. 

Not only was it dangerous for others, but in the process of doing so, they were killing themselves. Dark magic was in and of itself death. And if something surrounds itself in death for too long they themselves become death. 

He would not go so far as to say that he had tried to eradicate an entire human city for their own sake. He did not care if humans killed themselves in their own stupidity. But this blatant disregard for their own lives is something that influenced Sol Regem’s opinion of humans themselves. They were moronic and dangerous creatures that held no regard for others or even themselves and meddled in things they did not understand. 

He hated them with every fiber of his being. 

“I think you’re pretty cool too,” Callum says suddenly, a smile in his words. 

Sol Regem lifted his head in shock, angling his head to look towards the small boy. He feels something strange in his chest -- a warmth that is not the sun magic within him but something else. 

“Thank you, Callum.” He says faintly. 

The boy hums and continues to grab rocks to stack on them on the dragon’s paw, completely unaware of the emotional spin he had sent his companion into. He really should just get rid of this brat, Sol Regem thinks softly. He is making the old dragon question everything he believes. 

“Even though you smell really bad,” Callum adds after a moment cheekily and Sol Regem growls playfully. 

“I smell bad?” he snarls mirthly. 

Callum nods vigorously, “ Yes!” 

The dragon growls, “You should smell yourself” he pulls the boy closer with a paw, causing the boy to scream playfully and knocking off the stacks of rocks. Once he has the boy securely in his grasp he gives him a long sloppy lick. the backwards facing barbs that cover his forked tongue tugging and catching on Callum's clothes and hair. Truthfully he should have groomed the boy awhile ago, he really is starting to stink. By the primal, something was really wrong with him -- grooming the boy as if he were his own hatchling! 

“Your tongue is scratchy!” Callum whines trying to get away and Sol Regem laughs and continues to groom the boy reasonably clean. He takes special care to comb out his hair and by the end of it he is sure the child's hair is sticking up like a porcupine. Callum grumbles and whines and by the time he's satisfied the child is soaked in dragon slobber but doesn’t reek of sweat and grime anymore. Grooming like this also had the added benefit of warding off dangerous creatures; Callum practically smells like a dragon at this point and most predators would think twice before attacking a dragon hatchling. 

A strange feeling of pride settles in his stomach at the thought. 

Callum is trying to wipe off slobber from his face, pouting rather loudly and Sol Regem shoves him away gently with a smirk. He turns his head to the orange warm light of the sun that is just barely peeking over distant mountains now. He relaxes his face and sighs in contentment, Callum's exaggerated whining at his side does nothing to ruin his good mood and instead make it brighter. 

"Do you think we could go flying tomorrow?" Callum wonders after awhile. 

"I don't see why not," Sol Regem allows, truthfully he has been meaning to stretch his wings once more. Plus despite everything Callum has been remarkably well behaved and the dragon thinks he deserves a reward. Not everyone gets the chance to ride a dragon and he seemed to love it the first time they flew together. 

And after that they do not speak anymore, Callum begins to climb the dragon and entertains himself by trying to get to his shoulders without hands and eventually settles in between his horns to watch the last rays of the sun disappear as night takes over.

Chapter Text

That night, Sol Regem is roused from sleep with the waxing moon hanging in the sky and the morning still far off. If he concentrated, he could feel the sun's position on the other side of the earth and predicted that it had just passed midnight. 

He usually rises and sets with the sun and rarely wakes outside of this schedule. Confusion and wariness twist his gut as he stretches his sense outwards to try and find exactly what it was that woke him. But he cannot sense anything out to the ordinary. Callum is still snuggled up at the apex of his shoulders and snores softly, soundly asleep. 

He raises his head warily, scenting the air. Swiveling his head to the side to better hear the sounds of the night. Crickets and frogs are singing their nightly songs and a pack of moonstriders howl far in the distance. Too far to pose any kind of threat to Callum. Everything seems to be normal. 

He might've laid his head down and gone back to sleep if not for the feeling of being watched that burns his scales. He is well aware that just because he cannot sense danger does not mean that it isn't lurking in the shadows. And thanks to his blasted sight something could be standing right in front of him and he could be none the wiser. A hated it. 

He thinks about standing and checking the area around the cave, but is reluctant to rouse Callum unless truly necessary. Sol Regem has become paranoid in his solitude and is well aware this could be nothing. He could have just woken up for no reason, he could just be imagining being watched. All of his other senses are telling him that there is nothing out of the ordinary. 

Callum's sleep is already dubious at best and it is not hard to gauge what his nightmares were about. Sol Regem is perhaps the least qualified creature on the continent to deal with that kind of heartache. If Callum ever tried to come to the old dragon for comfort or advice on his nightly terrors, the archdragon thinks he would just make it worse. Humans were fragile like that. 

A whoosh of air interrupts his thoughts and Sol Regem snaps to attention, lip curling slightly as he tries to pinpoint where and what the sound was. Nostrils flaring as he scents the air, the archdragon lets out a warning rumble. His stomach begins to heat as something large lands on the clearing outside of the arch dragon's cave and annoyance threatens to turn into rage as he recognizes the scent. 

"Lunyx," his voice is a deep rumbling snarl, his deadly sharp fangs flashing in the shadows of his cave. 

"Peace, brother." The moon archdragon soothes with a soft voice. His voice is like a whisper that echoes throughout the canyon and seems to layer on top of itself. "I merely have come to see if the rumors were true." 

Sol Regem's scars shift and pull painfully as he narrows his brow and hisses like an angry crocodile, the plates along his neck glow threateningly with the fire within his chest flowing up his throat. He shifts his body so that he is facing the other dragon more and the still slumbering Callum is more behind him and out of view. 

Many centuries have passed since he had last been in the presence of the moon drake, but his memory is clear and he imagines in his head what the moon archdragon looks like standing before him. Last he had seen, Lunyx was smaller than him, with a long cat-like body and shorter legs. Smooth night-black scales Several rows of glowing horns crown his head and trail along the line of his throat and glowing marks swirl along his flank and neck. A trail of long, glowing fur trails down his dorsal and tail to end in a long plume of fur. His face was regal and fox-like, his eyes a pulsing blue and swirling marks glowed around his eyes and traveling along the sides of his snout and chin. 

A displeased warbling noise echoes in the cage of Sol Regem’s ribs and he almost growls that the two of them are not brothers, but something about what the other archdragon said catches his attention, “What rumors?” 

“Why, that the mighty Sol Regem has gotten himself a human pet, of all things!” Lunyx’s soft voice overlaps itself and fades in and out strangely. 

Pain tugs at his face as he bares his teeth and pulls at his burn scars, “I do not see how that is any of your concern, you meddling snake. You are not welcome here -- leave, before my patience runs out and I turn you into a pile of ashes.” the snarl in his words strains his throat and he resists the urge to cough. 

“Such aggression, old friend.” Lunyx laments softly, “I do not know what I have done to deserve such disdain. I merely have come to--”

“You have come” Sol Regem interrupts harshly, “to spy on me for Aecoragrim. Your soft words do not fool me, Lunyx.”

The archdragon makes a small hum of sadness that warbles and chitters, “My love does not know that I am here,” he whispers almost pleadingly. “I have come for no one but myself: to see an old friend and to make sure for myself that you have not gone truly mad in your solitude. Stealing of human child, of all things!”  

“I did not steal him,” the sun archdragon snips, annoyed, “I found him.”

He cannot see, but can practically feel the incredulous stare the dark dragon sends his way. “...How ever you wish to define it, you have taken a human from its home and have brought it under your care. What could have possessed you of all creatures, to do such a thing?” Lunyx practically demanded. 

Sol Regem’s tail lashes and his throat glows threateningly, “Be careful how you speak,” he growls, “I may be blind, but I will not hesitate if you try my patience any further.”

Lunyx raises his head, his tail brushing across the ground as it lashes back and forth, “I would’ve thought you had learned your lesson on arrogance, brother. It seems I was mistaken.” 

The gold dragon snarls and the other archdragon growls right back and they abruptly come to an impasse. Sol Regem would never admit it, but Lunyx’s words sting. He refuses to acknowledge the shame that threatens to bubble up his throat and stubbornly decides that the tight feeling in his chest is anger instead.

The sun archdragon lets out a sigh and finally lowers his head slightly, “The child has magic.” he bites out like it hurts, and it does. “I could not let him go back to the filth of humanity. They would have either destroyed him or corrupted him, mine was the only choice.”

“So you rescued him, is that it?” and if he is not mistaken, there is a bit of condensation in the moon dragon’s tone. 

“Yes.” and he wholeheartedly believes that. He rescued Callum. He rescued him from not just being left alone in a forest with night fast approaching, but also from humanity. Who knows what would’ve happened to the child if the family he originated from found out about his gifts? Humans have prosecuted and ostracized others for less. They could’ve hurt him, perhaps even killed him. Or locked him up and studied him. 

“Humans cannot harness the primal sources, brother,” Lunyx mentions meaningfully and Sol Regem’s lip curls at the tone. The moon archdragon believes he has gone insane, that he stole some random child in some deranged episode. 

“You think I do not know that?” he says with a growl underbassing his words. “But he… Callum is different. I did not believe it myself but he has magic, unlike anything I have seen.”

“That is impossible,” he says gently.

He rears his head back like an angry cobra, “You do not believe me?” he hisses, affronted. Lunyx tries to placate him but Sol Regem ignores him and turns his head to rouse Callum. The boy has been awake for half of the conversation he has had with the moon drake but has not moved and instead is cowering down and hiding behind the curve of Sol Regem’s spine. He soundly ignores Lunyx’s presence and instead makes a comforting warble that instantly sets the boy at ease. 

“It is alright, Callum. I want you to meet someone,” he tells the scared boy. 

“Who is it?” the boy whispers to him, peeking over the archdragon’s dorsal spikes to look over at Lunyx, who stands catlike in the clearing with his long tail weaving behind him lazily. 

“Remember when I was telling you about archdragons yesterday? Well this is Lunyx, the moon chaser.” 

“Brother, you told him about me? I am touched,” Lunyx croons, making a muscle in the gold dragon’s forehead twitch in irritation.

Callum peeks out more meaningfully to get a better look at the moon dragon, his curiosity battling valiantly with his wariness. “Hello,” says Lunyx softly, causing the child to let out a small eep and dive back out of the other dragon’s sight. 

“Do you think you can show him some of your magic?” Sol Regem wonders, trying valiantly to fight off the amusement that threatens to pull at his mouth. He had never thought Callum to be all that shy, but the child was downright whimpering in the presence of another dragon. This surprised Sol Regem because the moon dragon had a softer demeanor that he thought would set the boy at ease. 

Callum doesn’t say anything for a long moment, “It’s hard to do it at night time…” he admits softly. 

“That is alright, I still think you can do it.” He is acutely aware of Lunyx studying his every move and feels strangely vulnerable showing someone else such a gentle side of himself. He knows if he pushes Callum too hard or too harshly, however, that the boy might shut down completely (or worse, start crying). He had figured that out the hard way. Quickly learned that it is much to his advantage to speak calmly and softly if he wants Callum to do something. It is still very much a work in progress, Sol Regem is not a gentle creature and has to constantly remind himself to lower the growl in his voice and to take a deep calming breath if Callum ever does anything particularly annoying. 

There is another quiet moment before Callum let out a shaky breath and begins to climb down Sol Regem’s body and jumps down to the floor with a soft grunt to stand shakily at the dragon’s paws. He awkwardly shuffles out from under the overhang and into the moonlight and the sun archdragon hauls himself to his feet to follow the boy. They come to a stop a couple of meters away from Lunyx who waits dubiously. 

Callum takes a deep breath, gathers his magic and begins to draw out a simple glowing orange symbol in the air and whispers an incantation. Without the light of the sun helping him, the spell is noticeably weak and delicate. But it does not matter because floating between Callum’s hands is a small, flickering flame. The whole point of this was to show Lunyx the boy had magic and he had proved his point. 

Feeling particularly smug at the inquisitive warbling noise the moon archdragon makes, Sol Regem observes the other lowering his head to better look at the display of magic the human child is showing. 

“How…” Lunyx whispers in awe. 

“That I do not know. I am in the process of teaching him sun primal magic.”

“Perhaps he is of Sunfire descent,” Lunyx suggests, but by the tone of voice he doesn’t quite believe it. 

“There is not a trace of elf blood in that boy and you know it,” Sol Regem grumbles. 

“Apologies, it is just… how is this possible?” 

Callum shuffles awkwardly between the two conversing drakes and lets the flame flicker out of existence before stepping back closer to Sol Regem and away from the moon drake. 

“I do not know,” Sol Regem grumbles. 

“Can he utilize any of the other primals?” Lunyx wonders, sniffing at Callum who jumps away with a squeak that sounds much more draconic than human and stumbles back to hide behind Sol Regem’s front leg. 

“All I know is that he needs to have an impression of magic to cast spells, I do not know if he able to utilize the other primal.”

Lunyx hums, “Let's find out, shall we?” he whispers before turning his attention fully to the boy peeking out from around the gold dragon’s leg. “What is your name, child?” 

“... Callum,” he says shyly. 

“A fine name,” the dark dragon compliments gently and the boy gives a small smile. 

“Are… are you gonna show me moon magic?” Callum stutters shakily. 

Lunyx hums a warbling noise, “I cannot stay long. But… I think I can show you a spell that may be useful to you in the future. Sol Regem said you needed an impression to be able to use magic, yes?”

Callum gives a shy nod. 

“And how do you get this impression?”

“I… I have to touch it,” the boy explains. 

Lunyx bows his head down to the ground, “Is that all? Well, come here, little one we do not have all night.” there is a playful edge to his voice that seems to set Callum at ease and he risks to step away from Sol Regem and shuffles up to the large dragon. 

He gingerly reaches out and sets his hand on the moon archdragon’s snout. He shivers noticeably at the contact and a strange shift in his magic pulsing outwards causing Sol Regem to make a small rumble of alarm. But within moments his magic settles down and returns to normal and the archdragon lets out a breath of relief. 

“Woah…” Callum stutters in awe, shaking his head as if to clear it. 

The moon archdragon lets out a small breath of amusement. “Now, Sol Regem has already shown you how to create sigils, yes?” Callum nods eagerly, “Well, I want you to write out this symbol --” he carves his claw into the dirt and begins to draw. “And say ‘Luvelias’. Think of a happy memory and let the warm feeling linger in your chest as you cast the spell. ”

Callum hesitates nervously, “Can I keep holding on to you? It’s easier, when I first do a spell…” Lunyx nods his acquiesce and Callum reaffirms his touch on the dragon’s snout. 

With his free hand he begins to write the sigil in the air, the magic glowing a whiteish blue. After the sigil is finished he does not say the incantation for a long moment and instead closes his eyes and takes a few reaffirming breaths. 

“Luvelias!” Callum repeats strongly, moon primal magic pulsing from his small body and light begins to pool in his outstretched hand. A long eternity passes before the ball of magic in his hand shifts into something refined and recognizable. A whispering bird call emits from the mass of magic and Sol Regem realizes it is a small sparrowhawk made of the light of the moon that sits comfortably in Callum’s hand. The bird chirps and flaps its moonlight wings a couple times and Callum makes a excited squeaking noise. 

“If you are ever in danger, cast this spell. I will come.” Lunyx tells the boy softly, “This bird will come and find me.” 

Sol Regem growls over Callum, who is trying to thank the other archdragon avidly, “What are you playing at?”

“No games, brother. This is merely a show of kindness on my part.” Lunyx calls over his shoulder as he turns to take off into the sky. 

“There are no rumors, are there?” Sol Regem calls out, “You have been spying on me.” if anyone could get past his senses it would be Lunyx. With him being a creature of the moon primal, he was a master of illusion and staying hidden in the shadows. A chill runs up his spine at the thought of being watched without knowing it. 

Lunyx is quiet for a long moment and that is as much a confession as anything, “I didn’t mean anything by it, brother, you know I would never wish you harm. I have been checking up on you every couple of decades…. it pains me to see you like this and I only meant to ensure you were coping well.”

“I don’t want your meddling,” Sol Regem hissed, “Leave.”

The moon archdragon lets out a sorrowful sigh, and bows his head in acquiesce. “I hope you know what you are doing, I truly do,” he whispers softly before taking flight in the air. 

Sol Regem does not sleep any more that night, instead he keeps silent vigil over Callum (who had stayed awake for many hours after Lunyx’s visit playing with the moon bird that eventually faded into nothingness as the boy began to fall asleep) until the sun rises.

  A strong updraft tug at Sol Regem’s tattered wings as he smoothly jumps off of a cliff ledge and into a glide, swooping up and gaining altitude fast late the next morning. Callum is seated snuggly at the base of his skull, just between his two largest horns, and gives a small sound of unease at the speedy takeoff. 

Before now the archdragon had never really took into consideration how his flying would affect a passenger riding on his back (this was the first time he had allowed it, after all) and had become acutely aware of every movement of his body and just how jarring his wingbeats might be for someone he was carrying. Each stroke of his wings shifts his entire body and his head bobs with the movement of flight. And actually getting into the air (even diving off a cliff, which is much easier than taking off from the ground) is not a smooth and seamless process. His immense size is a hindrance in flight but once he has finally gotten himself into the air and away from the ground his massive wings hold his weight with ease .

It takes a few minutes but eventually Callum peaks out and at the world around them, and he gives out an adorable sound of awe as he takes in the view. It is a warm clear day and the sun’s warmth makes it through the harsh winds of flight and the world around them is clear and Sol Regem is sure the view is beautiful. 

He flies relatively close to the ground, not wanting to scare the child nestled on his back. But Callum doesn’t seem to be afraid at all and instead risks letting go of the dragon to spread his arms out wide and laugh excitedly as the wind pulls at his arms much like they do for Sol Regem’s wings. 

Despite having flown once before the boy doesn’t seem to be any less in awe of the sensation and lets out a whoop of excitement as the archdragon slopes his wings up to gain altitude. The boy’s pure joy is downright infectious and Sol Regem feels a bout of playfulness fill his belly with warmth and he begins to go into a gentle dive and spiral in the sky. He does not risk doing corkscrews or flips, especially with Callum still not holding on securely and instead still has his arms spread wide. 

Callum lets out a loud scream of excitement as Sol Regem pulls into a deeper dive and the dragon lets out his own roar as well causing the boy to fall into a fit of giggles and the dragon cannot remember ever feeling so light and warm. 

They fly for a few hours before both Callum and Sol Regem begin to tire, “Can you see a place for me to land?” he calls out over the wind and he feels Callum take a strong hold of his fur to lean over the side of his neck and better see the ground. 

The boy looks hard and long at the ground before shouting, “Over there!” and pointing somewhere. 

Sol Regem hesitates and then says “Guide me.” 

And Callum does, with at first a nervous hesitation that quickly changes into a sort of confidence that sets the dragon at ease. He says commands like “Left, no your other left!” and “There are a bunch of trees, be careful!” and even “Too far, too far! I think we have to turn around, you’re gonna hit the trees!” and near the end Callum begins to pull at the fur along his spine which way he should go at that helps more than the verbal commands. 

Eventually, they land safely and without running into anything and they are in a small clearing in the middle of a forest. The grass is soft beneath the dragon’s claws and he lets out a breath of relief at being able to rest his wings. Sol Regem estimates they are in the southeastern section of the Moonshadow lands. Far away from any elven civilization, luckily.

Callum swiftly climbs off of him and lands on the ground with a giggle and immediately takes off to explore and Sol Regem allows himself to delicately lay down in the soft grass. “Stay close, Callum,” he murmurs, laying his head down. 

“I know!” the boy shouts distractedly as he rolls a rock over to look for cool bugs hiding underneath it. 

And it is there that Sol Regem begins to doze lazily in the warm afternoon sun. The soft ground is a welcome change to the hard stone he is used to and he lets himself relax and yet still keep half an ear on his charge, who is running around and oohing and awing at everything and occasionally bringing new trinkets to Sol Regem for the dragon to either identify or simply applaud the boy for finding. 

“Regem! What are these? They're everywhere!” Callum shouts stumbling up to the dragon with a handful of familiar smelling creatures. 

“Adoraburrs,” he grumbles, he can feel a couple of the annoying pests already trying to latch onto his scales. “Be careful to make sure none are on you when we leave,” he reminds the boy but Callum is already wandering back off to explore more. The dragon sighs and rests his head down on the grass. 

He lets the sounds of the forest soothe him and he breathes in the fresh smells with a contentedness he has not felt in a long time. It is a sleepy sort of happiness that takes hold of him and that feeling is exemplified by Callum’s soft laughter as he plays with the adoraburrs.

They stay in that clearing for a long time and Sol Regem has almost fallen asleep for a cat nap when Callum suddenly jumps onto his snout, “I saw a river close by when we were flying, can we go see it?” he asks breathlessly. 

Sol Regem hesitates a long moment before letting out a puff of breath from his nostrils, he can hear the gurgle of a river not too far away and doesn’t think it would hurt to go and see it. He could use a drink anyway. He nudges the human off his nose and gets to his feet without a word, Callum cheers and takes off into the woods.

"This way," he calls out, waving his arms. 

Sol Regem huffs and pads after the boy, listening for his little footsteps and calls. 

"Watch out for the log here," Callum says, clambering over a humongous fallen tree and jumping on it a few times before climbing down the other side. The human guides the old dragon through the forest nonchalantly, weaving in between trees with large enough gaps that Sol Regem does not bump into them. 

It is… nice. A strange sort of relief settles in his gut as Callum once again calls out an obstacle that the dragon would not have been able to sense and would have most likely stumbled into. For once he does not have to worry about stumbling into objects because right now Callum is guiding him through it and he trusts that despite the boy’s age he will not let the old dragon run head-on into a tree. 

“Stop!” Callum calls out, proving his point then and there, “You were about to hit a boulder! This way instead,” he tells Sol Regem and together they make their way through the forest until eventually they come across the river and Callum makes an excited noise and toes off his boots to walk in the shallows of the water. 

They spend the rest of their day there. Sol Regem ends up walking straight into the river and laying down, letting the current clean his dirty scales, it is not quite deep enough for him to swim in but he becomes a diving board of sorts for Callum. It becomes a game, Sol Regem dunks his head under the water to scoop up the boy on his snout and the boy will jump off and into the water with a scream of laughter. 

The boy tires himself out and the two of them end up dozing on the beach for over an hour before Sol Regem decides it is time they headed back home. Callum whines a little bit but is tired enough not to throw a fit about it and climbs up onto his spot at the base of the dragon’s skull for flight. 

They are halfway back to the canyons when Callum wonders over the roar of the wind, “Regem, how high can you fly?”

And perhaps it is because the good day has set Sol Regem too much at ease, perhaps he just wasn’t truly thinking about how this could end badly, but Sol Regem is feeling playful and mischievous and he says “Would you like to find out?” 

Callum gives an enthusiastic yes and Sol Regem grins as he angles his wings upwards and begins to ascend higher and higher. It is a strain on his wings but he has just had a long rest and he feels a foregin sense of hyperness, he wants to push himself and let out all of this excess energy that he is feeling. 

He feels the wetness of a cloud against his scales as they fly right through one and Callum lets out a sound of surprise, “Clouds are wet?” He says, shocked. He is beginning to shiver as the air becomes colder and colder but Sol Regem doesn’t notice. 

“Where do you think rain comes from?” Sol Regem calls out and continues to climb up and up and up. 

Long minute stretch in silence as he flies and his lungs burn with the effort, his wings burn deliciously and he relishes in flying so high once again. They are so high that the air is thin and it is becoming harder for the dragon to keep going higher up, his wings cannot push himself like they do closer to the ground and he has to work twice as hard to continue ascending. 

“What do you see?” Sol Regem asks over the roar of the wind. He hovers there, high above the clouds, his wings beating harshly to fight against the thin air. 

Callum is quiet, he is breathing very hard and doesn’t speak for a moment, “The world is round?” Callum pants, voice awed and shaky from the cold. 

Sol Regem wishes he could see so badly in that moment it hurts. He remembers what it looks like, this high up though. The sky dark and stars easily visible despite the sun hanging in the air, and the curve of the world prominent against the endless horizon. He imagines the clouds far below them and the earth even farther than that. 

But he can feel the harsh air rubbing against his scales and the bitter cold pushing against his tattered wings. His lungs expand with the icey atmosphere and he relishes in the feeling of being so high up. 

He is so distracted that he doesn't notice Callum's already uneven breath becoming weak and wheezing. He doesn't notice the human gasping as if there is no air. But he does notice when the warm spot at the back of his head where the human had nestled himself becomes cold and barren.

Callum had let go. 

Horror suffocates him and Sol Regem can’t breathe, can’t think. He roars, swinging his head to try and pinpoint where Callum was but the wind and his own heartbeat block out any sound. Unthinkingly, he curls his wings in and dives down. 

Where is he? Sol Regem thinks hysterically as he streaks down. He can't hear anything but the roar of the wind, his panicked short breath. 

Helplessness chokes him in that moment. He can't see. He can't fucking see and he can't find Callum. His hatchling is falling to his death and he cannot catch him. He can't do anything. 

Sol Regem has never felt such a harsh mixture of panic and helplessness before. 

Agonizing seconds tic. His scars are beginning to heat up from diving down so fast but he doesn't care. He is becoming increasingly aware of how close the ground is getting and

Then he hears something and could've roared his relief to the sun. It's above him, Sol Regem must've dived right past him. But it is there, a scream. And not a human scream but a call of a dragon hatchling in danger, but it is undoubtedly Callum. 

He snaps his wings out to slow his descent enough for Callum to fall past him before tucking his wings back in close and following after with a roar. 

His claws wrap around Callum’s limp body, and later he will agonize over how he could’ve very easily killed the boy from how roughly he had grabbed him and yanked him back close to his chest but at that moment he was filled with utter relief. He had caught him. 

But they were so close to the ground, too close. He snaps his wings wide to try and slow his descent and something in his shoulders tears at the agonizing strain and the tattered holes in the gossamer webbing tear open further. He is going too fast. Too fast! He can’t stop in time! He-

His left wing slams into something, a tree. He rolls in the air, his back slamming clean through a dozen more trees and he desperately holds Callum safely to his chest. He crashes through the forest at an angle and then there is a moment where he is flying through empty air before hitting the ground hard. 

He skids across the earth, golden scales tearing out and then finally he comes to a stop in a massive crater of upturned soil and tree roots. All the air has left his lungs and he is left gasping and disoriented. His wings burn with pain and the dragon snarls in agony as he lays there and tries to just breathe. His body is bloody and battered and he can’t move, by the primal, it hurts. He has only crashed once before, and even then he had landed in the ocean. 

“R-Regem…?” a voice whispers brokenly and the archdragon almost passes out from sheer relief. Callum is alive. He tries to scent the air to see if he can smell any injuries on the boy but he is still struggling to get air back into his lungs. 

He lets out a small wheezing noise that could’ve been the child’s name and he is vaguely aware over the ringing in his ears that the boy is crying harshly. Callum crawls across the rough floor and reaches a shaky hand to rest on the velvety soft skin of the archdragon’s nose. He shoves at the dragon while sobbing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I-I don't -- I don’t…” Callum falls into more sobs, “I don’t know what… everything went dark and then I was falling, and I…” he hiccups harshly. 

“Are… you hurt?” Sol Regem manages to grit out, clenching his jaw. 

Callum doesn’t answer and just continues to cry. 

“Callum! Are you hurt?” his voice is harsh, he knows it is, but he needs to know, he needs to make sure.

“I’m okay,” the child whimpers brokenly. “You… are you okay?” 

Sol Regem huffs, finally managing to get his wind back. He is hurt, yes. But he will recover. He is mainly concerned about his left wing that took the brunt of the fall. “I’ll be fine, Callum. Sshhh, do not cry.” he soothes, forcing out a soft rumbling noise. Callum just cries harder. 

He is very much aware of night falling fast and that they cannot stay there. Sol Regem cannot protect Callum if any creature decides to attack. They need to go somewhere safe. Somewhere Sol Regem can lick his wounds and heal without worrying about Callum. His post at the border is dangerous and Sol Regem does not think he could fight off any creature that might decide to attack. 

An idea strikes him. He knows of a safe place he could rest but… it is far. Farther than Sol Regem thinks he could manage with his wing being injured. But it is the only place he can think of. The only place that will be safe. He has to. For Callum. 

They need to go to the Storm Spire.

Chapter Text

It takes a long time for Sol Regem to gather the strength to stand and even longer to convince a distraught Callum to climb back onto his back.

“No!” the human wails stubbornly, taking a few steps away from the dragon and shaking his head. 

“Callum, we have to.” his voice is harsh, his patience has long since run out and he is not in the mood to humor the child’s tantrum. 

He knows logically that Callum has just gone through a traumatic experience. That this is probably a normal reaction to almost dying. But he is angry. So so angry. And at that moment he could care less about how Callum chooses to cope with what has just happened. They need to go, and  once they are safe he will deal with… everything.

“I don’t want to!” Callum sobs, fat tears dripping down his round cheeks. He is scared, the archdragon can smell it. If perhaps they were in another situation where Sol Regem didn’t have other things to worry about, he might have cooed and comforted the boy until his tears dried and he managed to gain the courage to climb back on his back himself. But right now the sky was dark, the last vestiges of light fading out. 

Not that it made a difference for the old dragon what time of day it was, but there were creatures that came out during the night that the prime was not eager to encounter. Normally he would be confident he could bully away most non-dragon creatures, even with his blindness. But right now he was hurt and weak and was not in the mood to confront anything. 

Truthfully, he just wanted to lay down and sleep until his wounds healed, but that was not an option. 

Snarling his frustration, the dragon stalked forward and lowers his head stiffly in front of a sobbing Callum. “Get. on.” he rumbles harshly, leaving no room for argument. 

Callum’s sobs morph into a wet coughing fit and the child miserably climbs onto his back whilst still crying. As he settles at the base of the archdragon’s skull once more, still crying, Sol Regem feels a pang of… something. He hesitates a moment, opens his mouth to say something (he does not know what), but ultimately stays silent and gathers himself to take off.

Taking off from the ground is not ideal, Sol Regem would much rather find somewhere he could jump off of and glide smoothly from. But he is out of options and could not ask Callum to look for a place he could take flight from since night had firmly taken hold and left the forest dark and shadowed. 

It hurts. By the primal, does it hurt. His shoulder burns with pain and he clenches his jaw harshly as he jumps into the air and begins to ascend painfully slow. It takes longer than Sol Regem thought possible to rise above the trees and to be able to tilt his wings into a glide. It is a relief to lessen the immense strain on his injured wings and he lets out a long sigh as they begin to head north. He flies lower to the ground than he would like, his head drooping as he pants harshly with the strain. He cannot find the energy to fly higher and wants so bad to land and rest but fights through the fatigue and pain and continues anyway.

Callum holds onto his foremost dorsal spike like a lifeline, becoming deathly silent at being so suddenly forced back into a similar situation to where he had almost died. Somehow his silence is more painful than his tears and Sol Regem nearly says something again, but once again cannot find words that feel right and so he stays silent. 

They fly in silence for a long long time; the only noise is the roar of the wind, the thwoop thwoop of the dragon’s wings, and his labored breathing.

His wingbeats become unbalanced and faltering just as they leave Moonshadow territory, the Midnight Desert fast approaching. It is here he begins to doubt if he can truly make it to the Spire. If he cannot… if he crashes into the black dunes of the desert than soulfang serpents will swarm and kill not only him but Callum too. 

It would take dozens of bites for Sol Regem to succumb to the accursed snake’s venom, but Callum… it would only take one. One bite and he would be gone. The thought sends a sharp pang through his chest and he is filled with a newfound determination. 

If he is lucky, they might fly over one of the few oases that are scattered across the desert and be able to rest. But Sol Regem does not count on that luxury. He cannot search for the safe havens himself and Callum still has not lifted his head from the archdragon’s fur and seems determined to give him the silent treatment. 

The ground beneath him slowly thins out and the lush forest is replaced by sparse plains that steadily morph into black dunes. The air temperature steadily begins to drop as they fully enter the desert; and he feels Callum burrow closer to press his cheek against his smooth warm scales. The boy has long since stopped crying, but he is still miserable and scared. 

Sol Regem wonders if this fear of flying will be permanent or if it will fade away with time and exposure. A stab of pain lances his chest at the thought. Callum had been so excited about flying and had loved it but that joy had shattered in the face of a very real danger. And it had been Sol Regem’s fault. He wishes he could somehow change what happened, if just to spare Callum from the fear. 

The longer they fly the lower Sol Regem glides, unable to keep himself high enough with his wing and shoulder aching with a stabbing sort of burning pain that radiates and pulses angrily. At one point his tail brushes with the apex of a black dune and the archdragon grits his teeth and forces his wings to flap harder until he is at a safe altitude once again. If he could get himself above the clouds the strong winds so high up would make this journey far easier but he had tried before to do so and his wings nearly gave out from underneath him. 

His breath is labored and the back of his throat tastes coppery, exhaustion pulls him down and it is becoming a slowly losing battle. He growls softly in a strange mix of anxiety and anger, he hates the situation he has put himself in. This is all his fault and he has no one to blame but himself and his arrogance once more. 

His arrogance caused him to fly too high and he got burned. He almost killed Callum, he believed that he could cross the Midnight Desert whilst being injured and blind. By the primal, will he ever learn? 

“Where are we?” Callum suddenly whispers, so quiet that Sol Regem almost did not hear him over the wind. 

Relief floods him at the acknowledgment, “We are flying over the Midnight Desert,” he says between panting breaths. 

“Is the sand black?” Callum wonders, squinting down at the ground. Sol Regem imagines it is hard to tell due to the thick clouds hanging in the air that blocks out the moon. 

“Yes,” the gold dragon says, just content that Callum has finally broken the silence between them. 

“If it’s a desert why is it so cold?” he whines, making Sol Regem snort. 

Anything that the archdragon was going to say is interrupted when his wings falter and he drops a couple of dozen feet, causing his stomach to drop and Callum to make a small scared noise in the back of his throat. Sol Regem growls in extersion as he tries to gain the height he has lost, the crimson webbing of his tattered wings catching on the air and he manages to haul himself back to a reasonable altitude. 

Thankfully, he does not have to worry about running headfirst into any mountains or other such obstacles. The desert is a flat barren wasteland.

“Where are we going?” Callum asks next after a couple of silent minutes of flight. Sol Regem realizes with a start that he had never actually told the child where they were going and feels oddly sheepish for the overstep. 

“We are going somewhere safe, to a place called the Storm Spire.” he pants. 

“Oh,” Callum says, “How much longer?” 

Truthfully he does not know the answer to that. If he had to guess he would say that they were almost halfway there. In his prime, he could have made this journey in a couple of hours but at the rate he is going he wouldn’t be surprised if this was going to take him all night. He is aware that he is flying painfully slow and dangerously low to the ground, but it cannot be helped. 

“We should be there by sunrise,” he finally tells the boy. 

“I’m tired,” Callum admits miserably. 

Another pang of regret hits him, “I know,” he grumbles. “Just hang on, Callum. Once we get to the Spire you’ll get to sleep in a bed and you can eat all the cooked food you want.” he tries to comfort. 

“Bed?” Callum perks up. 

The spire had many rooms for the various kingsguard that resided within the palace and he was sure that he could find Callum an actual bed to sleep on once they arrived. When he reigned as king he had preferred Sunfire elves to attend to him at the Spire, but was vaguely aware that Avizandum had welcomed all races of elves to guard his home. 

He suddenly worries for Callum’s safety. He would like to think that the kingsguard would not be so bloodthirsty as to kill a child without any provocation, he worries anyway. He is not aware of the hypocrisy in his thoughts. 

“Yes, which means you have to stay awake,” he rumbles to the boy. Callum doesn’t say anything just leans further forward to begin to fiddle with the ridges on the dragon’s forehead in boredom. 

From there they continue flying north, thankfully he manages to catch the edge of a westward wind that helps lessen the strain of flight on his battered wings. Callum grows quiet in his exhaustion and Sol Regem has to rouse him from slipping into sleep every hour or so. The child gets more and more grumpy as time passes and Sol Regem does not know how to fix it when he has to make sure that Callum stays awake through the night for fear of him slipping off his back again. 

The archdragon is not doing much better, however. He finds himself resorting to using his magic stores to keep up the energy of flight, dipping into the vast pool of pure sun primal energy to energize his muscles and heat up the air around him to make it easier for him to rise. This type of magic is risky and Sol Regem is very much aware that he could cause permanent damage to his musculature if he keeps this up for too long, but he is vastly running out of options. It is when they are well over halfway through the desert that Sol Regem begins to regret this decision fully. Callum has said there is not an oasis in sight and it is very likely that they entirely missed all of them and the archdragon fears that his wings will give out and they will crash into the dunes below. 

But… every time he thinks that he cannot take another wingbeat, that he will drop from the sky he focuses solely on Callum seated just behind his head. He focuses on the child’s soft breath and the way he continues to nod off and be completely unaware of just how exhausted the primal dragon is. Somehow, it keeps him aloft and he continues despite the pain and despite the exhaustion. 

Sol Regem is not unfamiliar with fighting through fatigue and agony with sheer determination alone. When he had been blinded he had fought with the currents of the ocean to stay alive, fought through the pulsing agony of losing his eyes and he treded water for an entire night before the current blessedly washed him up onto some remote beach where he was able to finally rest. He had never been that connected with the moon primal but he thanked its mercy once again. 

If he could do it then, then he could do it again. 

Hours tick by agonizingly slow, and he has to constantly realine himself as he begins to list to the sides in his exhaustion. He begins to resort to Calum to try and find landmarks so he could narrow down exactly where they are and which way to exactly fly to get to the spire. If they are off by just a few miles then they will undoubtedly fly straight past it and Sol Regem begins to feel anxiety as Callum’s poor night vision does not allow him to accurately look for any landmarks. 

“I think we are almost out, there’s a bunch of little trees!” Callum says, gingerly leaning over his thick neck to look at the ground below. 

“Do you see any unique landmarks?” Sol Regem asks. 

“Er… not really? It’s all just really flat,” Callum says and the old dragon sighs, praying that they will fly past something that he can recognize. He takes comfort in the fact that they are reaching the edges of the Midnight Desert, however. That means they are growing closer to the Storm Spire, and closer to safety. 

They continue on. At this point, Sol Regem has become sort of numb. His head is drooping low and his armored chest heaves with every labored breath and he is sort of fading in and out, barely able to concentrate on flying. 

“Oh! I think I see a creek!” Callum suddenly said, pointing out at something to the dragon’s right. 

“Can you see… anything else?” unfortunately, a simple creek does not help Sol Regem narrow down exactly where they are. 

“It’s too dark,” the human grumbles tiredly and the archdragon thinks of landing and resting till the sun rises once again before continuing on. Afterall, the sun will energize him and allow him to heal faster. But he has a feeling that if he lands he will not be able to get himself up and they were almost there. He prays to the sun primal that they will not miss the spire, that rest is just a short few hours away. 

“What does the Storm Spire look like?” Callum wonders around a yawn as he droops against Sol Regem’s neck.

“It is a massive tower that pierces the sky, you will know it when you see it.” the archdragon pants as he flaps his wings to rise higher. 

They continue on the journey. Morning birds begin to stir and sing their songs and Sol Regem can feel the sun approaching the horizon, turning the sky a lighter shade of blue.

Suddenly Callum gasps, “I see it!” 

“Where?” Sol Regem demands, swinging his head around as if he could see the tower for himself. 

“There!” and Callum points to something again, forgetting about the dragon’s lack of sight for a moment but quickly catches himself and taps on his scaled forehead in the direction where the Spire apparently is. “It’s a big giant tower, just like you said!” he says, giddy with excitement. 

“How far?” he wonders next. 

At the question, Callum falters, “Uh… I don’t know. It’s really really far… I can barely see it,” 

Sol Regem huffs, knowing he shouldn’t be expecting a child to know how to calculate distance but unable to help the stab of annoyance at the unhelpful answer. He ignores it and continues on, a sort of giddiness rising in his chest at the chance for a rest. 

“Do we need to get to the top?” The child atop his head wonders.

“Yes.”

“Okay… you need to get higher.” Callum says distractedly as he gazes up at the tower in wonder. “Like really, really high. Super high.” 

Gritting his teeth, the sun primal dragon does as directed and forces his exhausted body to strain one last time and rises up. Callum begins to tug at his fur to direct him where to go along with not so helpful commands. 

“Almost there… this way, this way!” he tugs on his fur to the left and up hard and Sol Regem quickly corrects but it isn’t enough and he slams into the side of the landing edge at the very top of the tower. His talons digging into the stone as he hauls himself up, back legs scrambling on empty air. He climbs up to safety with a great sigh. Relief fills him to the brim and he almost goes limp with it. 

He had made it. 

Pride surges within him at the accomplishment and he can’t help the triumphant smirk from pulling at his lips. He can’t help but let out a victorious roar to the morning sun and giddy happiness fills him as Callum lets out a tired laugh of his own and quickly clambers down the gold dragon’s leg to stand on solid ground once again. 

Of course with making such a racket they are quickly discovered (Sol Regem frowns at such a late reaction to his arrival if he had been an enemy he could’ve laid waste to the spire)After a moment, several pairs of footsteps rush out towards him. Sol Regem peels his lips back with a snarl, letting out a hiss like a particularly angry cat. Callum lets out a rather draconic sounding squeak of fright and jumps to hide behind the sun drake’s  He can smell several different races of elves as the kingsguard warily approaches the sun drake. 

“My lord Sol Regem, what…?” a female tidebound elf demanded nervously. He has not been seen by elves in these parts for centuries but his rather unique appearance must be a dead giveaway to who he is. 

“I must speak with Avizandum,” Sol Regem growls lowly, his voice a deep rumble. 

“H-his Majesty is patrolling the border, he is not due back until tomorrow,” the same tidebound elf says nervously and the archdragon snarls his annoyance, he can feel Callum press against the back of his leg and peak out subtly. 

“Are those elves?” he whispers and Sol Regem is too focused to answer his question. 

“Then where is Zubeia?” he growls, a hiss underlying his words.

“My lady is --”

A regal voice interrupts the elf, “Sol Regem,” he almost collapses at the sound of his old friend saying his name with such shock and genuine happiness. “What are you doing here?” the sky queen wonders worriedly as she steps out elegantly and into the morning light.

Sol Regem bows his head to her, “I humbly ask for sanctuary, my queen.” despite what one might assume he does know how to be polite, especially when he is asking for such a favor.

Zubeia makes a clicking noise, “You are always welcome here,” she says to him, coming to a stop right in front of the larger drake. “It is good to see you,” she whispers to him almost conspiratorially and Sol Regem feels a strange pain in his gut that he isn’t quite sure is bad. 

At her words, the group of elves relax and take several steps back to give the two some semblance of privacy. Something must catch the queen’s eye because she goes silent for a minute before saying, “It seems you have brought along another guest, my friend.” Zubeia says, cocking her head to the side and gazing down at the sun drake’s talons where Callum peeks out from behind the archdragon’s leg, blinking owlishly up at her. Sol Regem huffs and lifts his leg up, revealing Callum to the audience around them. The boy squeaks at suddenly being out in the open and scrambles to hide behind his other leg. 

Zubeia coos softly at the child; the queen has a particular soft spot for little ones and Sol Regem knows both her and the dragon king have been yearning for a hatchling of their own for centuries. Conception for dragons has become exceedingly rare however and for one to be born in this era is practically a divine miracle. 

A wave of whispers come from the dragon guard as they all try to get a peek at the child. For many of them, this is probably the first time they have seen a human

“A human child? How unlike you, Sol Regem.” the storm queen teases and the sun drake cannot do anything but shrug helplessly. “What is your name?” she asks Callum who has shuffled out from behind Sol Regem’s leg shyly. 

“C-Callum,” he stutters and buries his face against the sun drake’s scales bashfully. 

“I am sure you both are exhausted,” Zubeia says, and then calls out to someone behind her, “Tiadrin?” 

A female moonshadow elf steps forward and bows, “Yes, my queen?”

“Will you take Callum down to the baths and have him washed and fed? He is absolutely filthy ,” she directs the last part accusatorily at Sol Regem, who holds back an affronted growl. 

The moonshadow elf rises and steps forward, walks right up to the sun primal dragon’s feet without any fear or nervousness (which he can begrudgingly respect) and kneels before Callum with an extended hand, “Hello, Callum,” she says in a motherly tone, she speaks in a Silvergrove accent,  “I am Tiadrin. You must be exhausted, but do you think you could come with me to have a bath?” 

“Bath?” Callum perks up visibly.

Tiadrin laughs, “Yes, and I am sure we can find some food for you too. Breakfast is being made as we speak." At least moonshadow elves knew what breakfast was, Sol Regem thought to himself grumpily. 

Callum seems to think about it for a second, looking up at Sol Regem for some reason and the old drake doesn’t know what he wants and just nudges the human towards the elf gently. He nervously took the woman’s hand and finally stepped away from the archdragon. Tiadrin rises to her feet, bowing down slightly to still comfortably hold Callum’s hand as she leads him to the entrance of the Storm Spire. 

Without thinking, Sol Regem steps forward to follow, but Zubeia gently stops him. “He will be alright, I promise.” 

He can’t help the growl that rises in his chest and stretches his senses out to hear Callum as he continues to walk away from him, “You don’t know that, what if your dragonguard --”

“My guard is loyal to me and will not harm a child, Sol Regem. This I promise you.” Zubeia gently told him. “He will be returned to you within the hour. But in the meantime… I would very much appreciate to know what has happened in the centuries since I have seen you.” 

Sol Regem hesitates, he can barely hear the elf woman tell Callum “You know, I have a daughter about your age. She is actually staying here at the Spire with me and my husband, perhaps you could meet her once you have settled.” and his hatchling’s soft hum of nervous agreement before they are completely out of his hearing range. Anxiety rises high in his chest and he almost storms right past Zubeia to stick close to Callum and make sure nothing happens to him but forces himself to let out a breath and relax his aching shoulders. 

He settles down onto the ground, his muscles singing with relief and begins to tell the Dragon Queen about how he came across Callum (stubbornly ignoring her hum of disapproval), and how he somehow, against all odds, possessed magic. How it was confirmed by Lunyx that he was not crazy. And about the incident that happened yesterday evening. 

“By the primal, Sol Regem…” Zubeia sighed, shaking her head from where she laid across from him. “Only you could get into such a situation!” and he cannot help the smile at the familiar teasing in her tone -- he had missed her dearly. 

“Do you know who the child belongs to?” she asks next, carefully. 

‘ He belongs to me… ’ Sol Regem thinks to himself but instead says, “I do not know, nor do I care to find out.” his voice is harsher than he would like but he is starting to get very annoyed with everyone implying that what he did was wrong. He saved Callum, why couldn’t they see that?

Before the dragon queen can say anything else a familiar presence bolts outside and straight for Sol Regem.

The dragon barely has time to lower his head before a now clean Callum is leaping onto his snout, shouting “Regem! The bath was huge! And - and they let me eat weird fruit, it tasted like oranges but weird, and it was blue! They also had bread, it was super sweet and - and cheese!” the child tells him, excitedly presenting a small block of cheese to the dragon’s scarred face. He holds back the snort of amusement. 

“And, and look!” he sits up on the dragon’s nose to spread his arms to try and show the old drake, so excited that he must have forgotten the very obvious problem with that. “They gave me cool clothes! Apparently it belongs to Tiadrin’s daughter? She said it's the only thing they could find that would fit me while they washed my clothes, it’s a little too big but I think its cool!”

Callum munches on his cheese as Sol Regem tries valiantly to hold back the laugh that threatens to rise up his throat. “That is very nice, Callum.” he manages to grit out before he allows a soft chuckle to escape.

“Can we go to bed now? You promised.” Callum said, leaning down on his hands and Sol Regem can practically see the pout directed at him. 

“Did he now?” Zubeia wonders. 

“Yeah! And he promised a bed ,” Callum tells the queen, almost accusatory, seemingly bolder after he has had something to eat. 

The blue dragon snorts and rises to her feet elegantly, “Well, I’m sure we can do something about that. Follow me, if you will.”

The sky archdragon leads them through the spire and down one of the many wide halls to a guest bedroom of sorts, really it is simply an extra cavern that is used rarely for visiting dragons to rest in. A large open window in the stone allows a beam of morning light to flow in and the drake gratefully rests in the sunlight with a sigh, Callum follows and just then a group of elves comes in carrying a cot and several blankets for Callum. 

The boy thanks them over and over and giddily climbs in to curl up under the covers with a happy sigh and Sol Regem smiled. 

“I will talk to you more when you wake, for now, rest.” Zubeia tells them both before walking out and the archdragon allows himself to relax and with the knowledge that the dragon queen was nearby allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep. 

Callum woke before Sol Regem did, the child rousing from his sleep just after noon and sleepily stumbling out of the cavern, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. He steps out into the hall and looks around, there is no one in sight. 

His stomach rumbles with hunger and he looks both ways down the hall, trying to remember where the kitchen was the nice elf lady had shown him that morning. Unsure, he chose a random direction and sort of hoped he would just stumble across it, maybe he would run into Tiadrin and she could help him. He liked her.

Callum does not know what he had expected when he thought of elves but this was… not it. Not in a bad way, though. Just different from what he had always imagined. 

In his daydreams, he had thought elves were… regal and stuff. Like Harrow when he was giving those boring talks that Mom always insisted he go to. But the elf he had met, Tiadrin, was super nice and reminded him so much of his mom in the way she helped him out of his dirty clothes and scratched soap into his hair it made him feel really warm and happy. 

Dragons were not how he imagined either. Regem was super nice and cool, even if he was a little grumpy sometimes. He liked him a lot 

“Hello,” a voice says behind him and Callum whirls around with his stomach somewhere near his feet. A girl stands in front of him with really pretty white hair and even prettier purple eyes. She looks to be a little bit older than him, but not by much. 

For his part, Callum is panicking. His heart pounds in his ears and he takes a few stumbling steps back, the girl merely follows curiously. “H-hi,” he manages to get out and the girl smiles. 

“I’m Rayla,” she says, her arms behind her back, and Callum notices she is taller than him. 

“C-Cal… er, Callum” he stutters, face burning. 

“That’s a weird name,” She tells him and the human quickly deflates at the words, his stomach twisting. Her voice is strange, there’s a weird inflection in the way she talks that he has never heard before. “No, not like --!” Rayla suddenly says loudly, making Callum jump, waving her hands in a panic. “Good weird! Good weird! It’s a good weird name!” she scrambles to correct herself and the human cannot help but giggle. 

“It is okay,” he says awkwardly and gives her a shaky smile. 

“Are you a human?” She asks next, leaning forward and raising an arm. “I’ve never met a human before, is it true you have five fingers?”

“Yeah, how many fingers would I…” he trails off as he counts the dijets on her hands and raises his own hand to compare the two. “Woah…” he says and Rayla presses her own hand against his, Callum’s pinky finger is left hanging and the two of them giggle. 

“That’s so weird,” she says with a grin.

“A good weird?” Callum wonders shakily. 

Rayla laughs, “Definitely!” and the human feels some of his anxiety slip away at her casual confidence. “Hey, do you wanna play? I’m the only other kid here and it’s boring!” 

“Why are there no other kids here?” Callum wonders, hurrying to catch up with her as she begins to walk in the same direction Callum was going.

“‘Cause I begged my parents to let me come along,” she tells him with a triumphant grin and puffs out her chest. “I’m gonna be a dragonguard when I grow up too!” 

“Is your mom T-Tiadrin?” he asks, stumbling over his own feet before managing to catch herself.

“Yup! Her and my Da are both kingsguard and it is their job to protect the Dragon King and Queen.” she tells him, “It is one of the most important jobs in all of Xadia.” 

His stomach does a strange tug at the mention of the Dragon King but he doesn’t know why that has to do with them being here. “What do they have to protect a dragon from?” he wonders dubiously. 

At that Rayla falters, “W-well, I don’t really know. But if they were ever in danger then it is the dragonguard’s duty to protect them!” 

‘ Well, if a dragon cannot protect themselves from something then what hope does an elf have… ’ Callum thinks to himself but doesn’t want to sound mean so just hums his acknowledgment. He is very scared of somehow messing this up, he has never really had a friend before. Soren and Claudia are the closest he has ever gotten and Soren is mean. And whenever he tries to get closer to Claudia it seems like she is always busy ! 

He looks over to Rayla who walks next to him and maybe hopes that they can be friends. She seems cool. 

“So. w-what do you want to play?” he asks. 

Rayla hums, "Tag?” she asks and Callum shrugs and nods.

From there they begin to play a rather one-sided game of tag, Rayla is much faster and agile than him and Callum tries very hard at not getting frustrated when she effortlessly taps his shoulder and then evades him. Rayla seems to quickly catch onto his mood and quickly changes the game, they now are playing Pretend which Callum prefers.

The moonshadow elf found some sticks and gave one to Callum and they are going on an adventure to retrieve a magic item (which ends up being a shiny rock Rayla had found the other day that is located in the room she shares with her parents). The sticks are their swords and whenever they inevitably run into scary invisible enemies one of them will switch so they play fight before they continue on their quest. 

Callum is laughing at Rayla’s fake death from the hands of the nefarious Mr. Evil (an evil guy that wants to destroy the world for no reason because he is just that evil) and doesn’t think he has had so much fun in a long time. They run through the halls, past a group of elves who look on in amusement and up a flight of stairs. Eventually, they find the magic item and the two of them dance around with Rayla holding the sparkly rock aloft with a victorious battle cry. Callum is laughing and cheering, if a bit quieter than Rayla. 

They play another round, this time taking the magic item to a sorcerer who needs the rock to save the world from Mr. Evil. And after that, it is nearing mid to late afternoon and Callum’s grumbling stomach cannot be ignored. 

The pair travel down to the kitchen, Rayla holding his hand and tugging him along and laughing together like they have known each other for years and not just a few hours. They eat leftover lunch, dinner is not being prepared for the kingsguard for another few hours. The duo sat at one of the tables, Callum swinging his legs and munching happily on a sandwich, he had missed actual food very much. 

Suddenly, there is a big commotion by the handful of elves in the room with them, and Callum looks to Rayla but she just shrugs and continues eating her own sandwich. The human cannot shake the unease and he jumps when he hears Sol Regem’s roar echo through the Spire, calling Callum back. 

“Oh, I gotta go,” Callum jumps up, “I’ll see you later Rayla!” he tells her, shoving the last bit of his lunch into his mouth before running off towards the sound of the call. Rayla calls out after them that they are gonna play together later and Callum cannot wait. 

He quickly realizes that he does not know where to go and unthinkingly lets out a strange chirping noise that before then he did not know he could make. A moment later Sol Regem calls once again and he follows the noise better that time and within a handful of minutes he runs out onto the platform they had landed on. 

Sol Regem is standing there with the nice blue dragon he had met that morning. Regem is worried about something, Callum can tell. His tail lashes back and forth and he is growling at the other dragon (he thinks her name is Zubeia? That’s a cool name). 

“I thought he wasn’t due back until tomorrow!” The sun archdragon is growling. 

“Evidently he was eager to come home and left the border early,” Zubeia responds calmly, “I do not see why this is such a problem, Sol Regem. I would have thought you would be eager to see Avizandum.” 

“It is not that..!” Regem growls but then looks over at Callum, or at least turns his head in the direction of the boy. “Callum, come here,” he orders, his voice strained. 

But Callum isn’t looking at him and instead his gaze is fixed out at something in the distance. A dark imposing figure was approaching on the horizon with dark storm clouds following him and a clap of distant thunder and lightning with every wingbeat. And Callum knew who it was, he had seen enough drawings and heard enough stories about the approaching figure and a sense of dread filled him. 

The Dragon King was coming home.

Chapter Text

To be perfectly honest, Sol Regem hadn’t really thought this through. 

Sure, he had been mulling over the idea of traveling to the Storm Spire at some point -- Callum would need to learn sky magic eventually, after all, and who better to teach him than the king of the skies, after all? -- but that idea had just been a fleeting thought at the back of his head until he had gotten hurt and his hand had been forced. That evening, when he had woken up with Callum nowhere near, he was reminded of something he had sort of forgotten. 

Avizandum had murdered Callum’s mother. 

Of course, he was well aware that the boy’s parent had died (Callum was still very much in mourning, it was hard to not notice), but the cause of the woman’s death had sort of been… overlooked? 

He felt oddly chagrined as he tried desperately to think of a way out of this situation. Obviously the Storm King would want to meet Callum, and Sol Regem doubts he could avoid his old friend for long once the other drake found out the sun archdragon was resting within his home. He remembers when one of the dragon guards saying that Avizandum wasn’t returning to the Storm Spire till tomorrow and calmed himself by rationing he had all night to think of a plan. 

His anxiety did not go away, however. Callum was not in the cavern with him and by the scent in the air it had been a few hours since the child had last been here; he hauled himself to his feet to go find him. Despite the long rest, his body was still beaten and battered and his shoulders burned with exhaustion, and his wing pulsed with a bone-deep ache that caused Sol Regem to grimace. 

Limping out of the cavernous room and out into the stone hallway, Sol Regem scented the air, following Callum’s scent deeper into the Spire. Sol Regem is just starting to narrow down on Callum’s trail when a voice calls to him. “My Lord, Sol Regem!” a male Moonshadow elf calls to him. “The lady Zubeia has asked for your company at the top of the Spire.” 

He hesitates for a long moment, he would prefer finding Callum and making sure he is safe but… it would be rude to deny an invitation from his very gracious host. 

With a loud sigh, the gold dragon turns to the Moonshadow elf, “Lead the way,” he grumbles and silently follows the male through the halls and to where the storm queen sits regally out in the afternoon sun. Sol Regem’s scars warm pleasantly as he lifts his head to face the sun, and feels a wave of relief as his element soaks into his scales and soothes the aches and pains in his body. 

“Thank you, Lain. You may go,” Zubeia tells his elf escort calmly, the elf bows low and leaves the two alone. 

“Is there something you needed, my lady?” Sol Regem wondered, his deep snarling voice just a tad impatient. 

Zubeia laughs pleasantly, “Is it wrong of me to want to catch up with an old friend?” she wonders cheekily. “You have been… missed, Sol Regem. I wish to know how you have been,” she lays down primly and the gold dragon sighs loudly as he collapses to the ground next to her with a grumble. 

“This is the first time in centuries I have left my post for longer than a few hours, truthfully My Lady there is nothing to tell,” he tells her. 

Zubeia sighs with something like disappointment, “You’re always so stubborn,” she tells him grumpily. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sol Regem wonders with fake affronce. 

“It means you are the most distant and stand-offish creature I have met, and Avizandum is my mate.” The queen snips good-naturedly and Sol Regem feels something like relief settle in his chest as they quickly fall back into old habits of teasing. 

He had missed her. 

From there they fall into a comfortable banter, Zubeia does most of the talking. She tells him of Avizandum’s reign and of the more amusing side of politics, of the struggles to make a positive change within the elf kingdoms. 

“They are so divided…” Zubeia tells him sadly, “Tidebound elves are practically ostracized by the other races, and while they are all of the same country it feels like we are running five different ones! Each race has their own beliefs and ideals, it is… impossible to make everyone happy.”

That is one thing Sol Regem had not missed about being king. The separation of the races of elves was not a new phenomenon. Before the draconic monarchy, the races of elf had been in constant war and it had taken a ruler that came from an entirely different species to unify them. Even then, Sol Regem had had many altercations with the elven representatives in his court for the sole reason of him being of the sun primal and being accused of having biases. 

It is a difficult thing, to make people of different beliefs and backgrounds get along and play nice. Racism is not a purely human trait and it practically ran rampant through Xadia, as much as it may not seem so. 

Zubeia quickly shifted the conversation to something more light-hearted and Sol Regem found himself enjoying himself and a soft sort of contentment settled within him at being in the presence of one of his oldest friends. There was one thing missing though....

During a lull in the conversation he called to Callum in the form of a roar, anxiety had been gnawing at him for hours at not having seen the boy since he had gone to sleep that morning. A few minutes later he heard the child’s confused chitters calling back to him and Sol Regem called to him once again. 

The storm archdragon at his side was about to say something, probably something about the gold dragon being a mother hen, when something must catch her attention, “Oh! I can see Avizandum on the horizon!” She tells Sol Regem excitedly.

The sun prime’s stomach drops and he snarls “I thought he wasn’t due back until tomorrow!” 

Zubeia is less than impressed with his outburst, “Evidently he was eager to come home and left the border early. I do not see why this is such a problem, Sol Regem. I would have thought you would be eager to see Avizandum.”

“It is not that…!” he begins to deny when he senses Callum scuttle out into the sun and towards the two quarreling dragons. “Callum, come here,” he tells the boy, panic threatens to choke him. 

Callum doesn’t seem to hear him, and Sol Regem growls. “Callum. Come here,” he orders.

His strict words seem to snap the child out of his daze because he scurries up to Sol Regem, “Regem, there’s another dragon coming.” he whispers to him as if it were a secret. 

At his side Zubeia does not seem to catch onto Sol Regem’s distress and tells the child, “That is my mate, do not be afraid of him, little one. He looks scary but I promise he won’t hurt you.”

“What’s a mate?” Callum asks her, momentarily distracted and ever curious. “Is it like… a husband?” 

Zubeia smiles, “In a way, yes.”

Whatever else Callum might have said is drowned out by loud wing beats and the roar of the downstroke of the Dragon King’s massive wings. 

Avizandum landed heavily onto the landing platform atop the Spire, the air vibrating with electricity as the archdragon shook his body out once he was firmly settled onto the ground. The downdraft of his wings ruffled Sol Regem’s fur and he felt Callum press his face into his leg to hide from the harsh wind that threatened to push the small boy off his feet. 

“Who’s that?” Callum whispered, and the gold dragon frowned. He didn’t want to say for fear of sending the boy into a panic attack. Truthfully he had no idea how the boy would react, if he would react at all. He didn’t know if he would react in anger or fear, or perhaps he would just go quiet and unmoving. Sol Regem was oddly afraid in a way he had never been before. He was scared for Callum and in that moment wished they had never come here. 

“Avizandum,” Sol Regem greeted the other drake and answered Callum’s question at the same time. 

“Wait, isn’t that --”

Whatever Callum is about to say is interrupted when the Dragon King made a surprised, almost pained noise and approached them, “What are you doing here, Sol Regem?” there was a strange inflection in his deep voice, one that the sun drake could not decipher. 

“He has come seeking refuge,” Zubeia said with a pleased note in her voice, “He was injured and in need of a place to lick his wounds.” 

Avizandum warbled in surprise and something verging on anger, “What happened? Who injured you?” 

“The one who injured me was myself,” Sol Regem was quick to explain, the dragon king’s wrath was legendary and the sun drake did not want to deal with a tantrum that involved being electrocuted, “I was careless and fell from the sky.” 

The storm archdragon growled; a dragon falling from the heavens was near unheard of unless the drake was sick or dying. Dragons were masters of the earth and sky, after all. Their wings were never supposed to falter. 

Sol Regem went on further to explain, “It is not what you are thinking, old friend. I simply… dropped something and was too close to the ground when I managed to catch it.” 

“What in the name of the primal did you drop !?” The Storm King snarled. 

Now or never, Sol Regem supposed, and for the third time in as many days, introduced Callum to an archdragon. He lifted his leg, the one Callum was hiding behind, and said blandly, “This.”

Avizandum was quiet for a long moment as he stared at Callum who shuffled from foot to foot and wrung his hands nervously. “Surely you jest...” he said with disbelief. 

“He does not,” Zubeai intruded with an air of amusement that caused Sol Regem’s lip to curl. 

“This is Callum,” Sol Regem said grumpily, nudging at Callum with his paw causing the boy to stumble forward, “He can access the primal sources.” he felt as if he had explained this situation a thousand times now and was not too keen on repeating himself for a third time. 

Thankfully, Avizandum did not question his sanity or ask for proof and instead hummed in thoughtfully. “How strange,” he allowed in his deep rumbling voice, lowering his head to Callum’s level. “Hello, I am the Dragon King, Avizandum.” he introduced himself to the small boy. 

The child was quiet for a long moment, Sol Regem shifted his weight and half wanted to usher the boy behind him and away from Avizandum. Although he missed his old friend dearly a fierce stab of protectiveness threatened to make him lift his lip and snarl in warning at the storm drake. 

“You’re Thunder?” Callum finally croaked, voice hollow. 

“That is what you humans call me, yes.” Avizandum says gently. He had always had a soft spot for hatchlings.

Callum swallowed thickly and simply stared for a long heavy moment. “You killed my mom,” he says bluntly. 

Sol Regem nearly choked, making a small strangled noise of surprise. At his side, he could practically feel Zubeaia’s bewildered look sent his way. 

For his part, the storm archdragon doesn’t seem to know what to say. No one speaks and Callum simply stands and stares up at the king, despite the tremble of his body. In literally any other situation Sol Regem might’ve laughed. Seeing the mighty Avizandum shocked into silence was something he would’ve given anything to see a couple of centuries ago. 

“ Why?” Callum sounded devastated, his voice breaking heartbreakingly. 

Avizandum floundered, Sol Regem was starting to get the impression that the king didn’t even know who Callum was talking about. He frowned, to know that you have taken something so profound from someone else without even having the decency to remember it is indescribable. Sol Regem is not good, he has killed perhaps more than the storm king, and yet he still feels that weight like a mountain on his shoulders. 

Callum made a frustrated noise, “ Why ?!” he demanded, tears welling up in his eyes. “My mom was - was kind and good, and you… y-y-you ki…” the child’s angry words broke off into a sob. 

The dragon king gazes down at Callum with hard icey eyes, Sol Regem stiffens slightly at the foreboding aura the other drake is expelling and brings his paw out subtly closer to the crying child and more underneath the gold dragon. 

“What was your mother’s name?” Avizandum asks, something strange in his tone. Something he has never heard before. 

Callum glares, “H-her name was… was Sarai.” 

“Do you know what war is Callum?” he asked next, and Callum must’ve nodded. “Right now Xadia is at war with the Pentarchy, and war means that sometimes innocent people die.” 

“Then why don’t you stop?” Callum hissed, a very dragon-like growl underlying his words. 

Avizandum doesn’t speak for a long moment, “It is not that simple.” he finally says. 

“I-if innocent people are dying then that's bad so why… why is it worth my mom…” Callum sniffs hard, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Your mother… Sarai is an unfortunate casualty, and I am truly sorry for the pain you are going through right now.” Sol Regem noticed that the other dragon did not apologize for killing the woman, just for Callum grieving. Part of him thought that 

Callum grit his teeth and glared for a long heavy moment before turning and running back into the Spire without another word. Sol Regem listened to him leave with a sort of hopeless sadness but did not follow. For now. 

“What in the primal was that, Sol Regem?” Avizandum snarled once Callum was truly gone, “Why would you bring a child into the den of the one who killed his parent?” 

Sol Regem bristled, “I had no other option,” he growled right back, throat scales pulsing with angry heat. 

“Where did you even find him anyway?” he grumbled. 

“Katolis, west of the sound.” 

Avizandum growled, but the sound trailed off as he began to think. “I had dealt with Katolian trespassers many weeks ago, they had killed a lava titan by the time I had gotten there…” 

Sol Regem hums, Titans are ancient and powerful beings. The fact that a group of humans managed to kill one is almost unbelievable. The ones that reside in the lava river that makes up the border between Xadia and humanity are particularly aggressive and powerful beasts. Nonetheless, they are citizens of Xadia, and Avizandum is duty-bound to protect all of his citizens, and if not to protect then to avenge. Sol Regem does not judge him for doing what he did. 

“You think the boy’s mother was part of that group?” Zubeia wondered. 

“Things have been quiet with the Pentarchy, especially Katolis. Their newest king…” he had to think for a moment, “...Harrow…. seems to want to limit casualties of his people. The fighting has come to a ceasefire for a few years now, that was the first incident in nearly a year. And the first time in a while that I personally intervened.” 

“Must be then,” Sol Regem says, “The boy’s loss is a recent wound, he is still in grief.” 

Silence for a moment before Zubeia steps closer to her mate, “Now that that is settled... what is your plan with the boy, Sol Regem?” she asks.

“The boy can harness the six primal sources. I plan to teach him all of them.” the gold dragon responded. 

Avizandum snorts, “It takes decades for an elf mage to learn to harness their primal source, centuries for a dragon to master them. How do you expect to teach the child all six of them?” 

Sol Regem’s scars tug tightly as he flashes his fangs at the storm dragon, “I plan to teach him the basics of each, while he is young. With a focus on runes and magic control, and then narrow his teachings down as he gets older.” feeling a sort of smug satisfaction as Avizandum glares at him, almost childishly. 

Zubeia swiftly interrupts them before the two other archdragons get into a brawl, “But what is the point of your plan? Why go through all of the trouble of teaching the boy magic in the first place?” she wonders. 

Sol Regem grumbles, “The discovery of new magic has plateaued for millennia, it seems we have learned all that we can with what we have. Perhaps Callum is the key to learning new types of magic, maybe he can combine two or more primal sources to create a new one, the possibilities are endless.”

“So your… plan for the boy is purely academic? No offense, old friend. But you were never the scholarly sort.” Avizandum says. 

Sol Regem can’t really glare, but he hopes that Avizandum still gets that impression anyway. “I have had a long time to reflect, in my solitude. I can no longer be a warrior so this seems to be my only option.” 

The storm king makes a small pained noise, “That isn’t--” 

“Be that as it may,” Zubeia swiftly cuts off her mate before he says something that truly pisses the sun archdragon off, “How do you plan to teach him other primal sources outside of the sun primal?” 

That… Sol Regem hadn’t really thought of yet. His main focus was on teaching Callum Sun Primal magic at the moment. 

“I'll figure that out when it becomes relevant,” he grumbled. Perhaps they could travel to various elf cities and put Callum under the tutelage of mages? He had already been planning to take Callum to Lux Aurea soon so that the boy could learn the more nuanced aspects of magic. Plus the library in the great sun city was infamous and Sol Regem had not forgotten how much Callum loved to read. 

“I would be willing to teach the child the sky primal,” Zubeia said, almost too eagerly. She loved hatchlings of any kind and Sol Regem suspected she was just excited about being able to spend time with Callum and experience what it was like. Sol Regem was grateful for the help. 

“Thank you, my lady.” Sol Regem bowed his head to her and he could’ve sworn the storm queen preened. 

Sol Regem continued to say, “Thank you both for letting me and my… ward rest here, but I must go see Callum now.” he told them both. 

“We will talk later, Sol Regem,” Avizandum grumbled to the gold dragon and he couldn’t help the soft smile from pulling at his lips. With a final goodbye, he turned and began to follow Callum’s scent, narrowly missing running into a wall. 

It takes longer than he would like but he finds Callum tucked into the corner of a large room with glowing blue moss reeking of the moon primal hanging from the stone walls and ceiling. Sol Regem settles himself down, curled around Callum almost protectively. The small boy sits with his knees curled up to his chest and chin propped up on his crossed arms and doesn’t say anything. Every few moments the boy sniffles miserably, but isn’t quite crying enough for the tears to leave his eyes. The archdragon doesn’t try to prod and instead offers a silent comfort and waits patiently for Callum to speak first. 

His patience pays off; after a few long minutes Callum lets out a sad breath, “Do you have a mom?” he wondered up at the gold dragon. 

Sol Regem hums, not surprised by the question, “Of course,” he says, swiveling his head to better face the boy, “My mother has long since passed from this world, however.” The pain of such a loss is distant and barely noticeable, he has long since accepted his mother’s passing. 

A long silence. Then… “What was she like?”

“Her name was Ra Talion, a mighty sun dragon with wings of flame and eyes of ice.” He offers and is shocked by the frustrated noise Callum makes. 

“No, what was she like?” he grits out brokenly, frustrated. 

Sol Regem… does not understand the question. What was she like? Hadn’t he answered that question already?

At his confused silence Callum makes a heartbreakingly sad noise deep in his throat, “ My mom was funny, and nice, and cool and… a-and she liked to eat jelly tarts, and ride horses, and she liked to draw, and she was really bad at singing but she did it a-anyway.” The dragon was startled as tears began to fall down the boy’s cheeks and he began to sob brokenly. “She didn’t like oranges and - and she would read me stories, and make funny faces, and she loved--” Callum’s sobs got too strong for him to continue and he buried his face into his arms with a wet sniffle. 

Comfort was not something that Sol Regem had ever really received or given, and he did not know how to quiet Callum’s cries. It felt wrong to simply leave and let the boy let out his grief alone, but at the same time he didn’t know how to help other than just being close and sharing space. He wanted so badly for Callum’s pain to just go away but felt powerless in his ability to make that happen. 

Shifting his body, the dragon gingerly lifted his front leg to rest on the other side of Callum and let his scaled paw press gently against the human’s side. Lowering his head to let out a puff of warm breath on Callum, ruffling his hair. He laid there and caged the child in with warmth and something he hoped was comfort. Callum leaned fully against his paw and pressed his wet cheek against the soft scales on the archdragon’s wrist, whimpering softly in a way that was nearly draconic. 

“...Ra Talion, er… my mother… was a loving but distant parent. She… she was impatient and angry, but also kind.” Sol Regem finally spoke, he had not thought of his mother in centuries. He had never been close with her and had left his nest as soon as possible and hadn’t looked back. The archdragon struggled to piece together any specific memory of her, he could not say what she liked or disliked, or any qualities besides her physical appearance. He loved her, of course, but it had been so long; and being so young, Sol Regem didn’t really pay attention to those kinds of things.

“Like you?” Callum whispered brokenly, sniffling. 

Sol Regem smiled, “I suppose so,” he said gently, something warm and fond settling in his chest. He was struck then by a memory, one that was buried deep in his mind that until that moment was forgotten. He could tell Callum one thing about his mother, at least. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, never that good of a storyteller, and began to speak gently.  “When I was a hatchling, younger than you, I was struggling with learning to fly. I had hatched far too early and because of that, I was weak and unable to take flight, or at least, that's what I thought. My mother carried me to a cliffside one day and let me go on a ledge, telling me that the only way I was going to get down was if I flew down myself. For hours I had laid curled up and stubborn, I believed that I could not do it and so I did not try. But eventually, I got so frustrated that I leaped right off the edge and fell. And I flew. Not very well, of course, and she was waiting at the bottom of the cliff and caught me before I hit the ground. She told me… ‘ Fear is a barrier that you must break through to reach your full potential. Never let fear guide you because you will never be truly happy if you do. ’” 

Callum sniffed wetly, rubbing his tears away with the heel of his palm, “Do you miss her?” 

“Yes,” and that was the truth. Despite never really being close, and it being so long ago since she had perished, he missed her. Or at the very least the idea of her.

“...I miss my mom,” he whispered so quietly the prime almost didn’t hear him. But he did and something broke a little inside his chest and he let out a small warbling noise, bending his head down to run the soft scales of his nose against Callum’s hair with something akin to a purr rumbling in his chest. 

“Will you tell me more about her?” Sol Regem wondered, genuinely curious. 

Callum took a deep shuddering breath, a few tears still dripped from his eyes but Sol Regem felt him nod his head. “Yeah… I can,” 

And he did. For hours Callum talked, telling stories about his mom. His voice steadily got stronger and he even managed to smile and laugh and Sol Regem felt some of the worry settle in his chest. Eventually, the boy tired himself out and fell asleep tucked against the prime dragon’s side and he allowed himself to fall asleep as well. 

Who knew human children could be so emotionally exhausting? Sol Regem thought to himself exasperatedly. 

Chapter Text

The next few weeks pass in an exhaustive blurr for Callum. 

Every morning he would be prodded awake by Sol Regem and the gold dragon would lead him outside and begin his lessons on sun primal magic. The teachings were long and arduous for the small boy; the archdragon having him perform tasks that left him lightheaded and shaky. His least favorite exercise was when he had to hold a ball of light in his hands for as long as possible, after the first half minute something within him would begin to strain and then as time went on it would become nearly painful and by the time Callum could no longer hold it he was left panting and shaking. 

Then he would be traded off to Zubeia in the evening and she was a much gentler teacher. The storm primal came to him with ease and the dragon queen had suggested maybe he had a natural affinity towards it, which Callum thought was pretty cool. Despite this, his newest lessons were just as tiring, if not more so. 

Despite his apparent natural prowess with the storm primal, it felt like it took much more energy within him to perform the simplest of spells. And the magic sigils and words he was learning were very very different than when he was performing sun magic. In a way, it was harder. He already had a very finite grasp on the sun primal and then he was being taught a completely other skill. 

All the new and contradicting things he was learning made his head throb. Because one type of thing worked when casting spells of the sun primal, but not that of the storm. The two types of magic acted very differently and Callum was getting very sick of the sunburn that marred his skin and being electrocuted all the time, thank you very much. 

The awe of being taught by two dragons had quickly worn off and after the first week Callum was starting to dread his daily lessons. It felt like all he was doing was practicing magic! He never had time to do anything between, besides eat and sleep! He barely even got to play with Rayla either… 

He grumpily pouted in what he was starting to think of as his and Sol Regem’s room, the gold archdragon had acquiesced (he had just learned that word the other day! It was a fancy way of saying that someone agreed to do something) to allow a small break. Sol Regem was now napping silently nearby and Callum sat on his bed and looked at his aching and raw hands.  Exhaustion pulled at his eyes and he wanted so badly to lay down and take a nap but his body ached too much at the moment. Despite being so tired he couldn’t sleep. Which was dumb.

His skin was red and irritated from sunburn, the tips of his fingers burned from all of the magic symbols he had been writing in the air, and his hair seemed to be in a permanent state of a static-y mess. He was a bone-deep sort of tired that he had never felt before and Callum sort of wanted to cry at that moment, he wasn’t sure why, however. 

He hadn’t seen much of Thunder… only a flash of light blue scales in his peripherals or the end of a white plumed tail. And he was very happy about it. Truthfully, Callum did not really ever want to see the storm dragon ever again. Whenever he thinks about talking to the Dragon King again his stomach twists with anxiety and panic, and he is glad that the dragon seems to be avoiding him as much as Callum is.  

Mom had always tried to teach him the power of forgiveness. How if you reached out to someone in kindness and forgiveness they too would do that to others and that you create a chain reaction, or something. She was always going on about how it is important to be kind and to be gentle, at least when you can. He wondered if she would be disappointed that he… wasn’t doing that. 

He didn’t think he would ever really forgive, at least not really. He is too young to really understand the burning in his stomach when he thinks about Thunder is hate. 

Truthfully, he didn’t quite understand death, and grief, and anger, and hate. Before his mom died he had a vague concept of these things, of course he did. His favorite types of stories to read were the ones about vengeance and triumph over the bad guys and those books, especially the super thick and heavy ones, always went into great detail about emotions and feelings the main character was feeling, and he understood them and their motivations well enough. But… to actually feel those things was really different. 

He had thought that Thunder was the bad guy. And had daydreamed about getting back at the king somehow (nothing as violent as killing him, just vague angry thoughts of a grieving child). But after meeting him… he doesn’t know… he is still angry and so so hurt but - but something is different . Something within him that sounds kind of like Mom tells him that the storm dragon isn’t the bad guy. That Xadia itself isn’t the bad guy like Viren says, and neither is the Pentarchy.

Maybe… maybe everyone is just really hurt and angry like he is. Maybe that's why they are fighting. 

The child sighs, he doesn’t know what he is thinking. He thinks if Viren were here he would pat Callum’s head in that way that makes him angry and feel looked down on and say that he is too young to understand. Maybe he is… he doesn’t know. 

Thinking of Viren makes him automatically think of Harrow and Ezran and a pang of something lances his chest. He misses them a lot. He wonders how Ez is doing. He has only been gone a couple weeks, but it feels like months, he hopes he can get done learning magic soon so he can go back home and see them. And maybe Sol Regem can come with him, he wants to introduce him to Harrow, he thinks they might get along. They are both really cool, after all. 

Maybe he can ask Sol Regem if they can go visit home once he is healed. He misses his little brother and Harrow a lot, and he thinks they must be very worried. 

“ Callum!” A hushed voice called out to him from the entrance of the room, causing him to lift his head tiredly. A smile tugged at his lips at the sight of Rayla peeking into the room, nervous but determined. 

He quickly got to his feet and tiptoed around Sol Regem before running up to Rayla, so excited to see his newest friend that he jumped into her arms and she caught him easily with a grin. She is a lot taller than him, and a year older after all. He doesn’t mind the age difference, just a little worried that she minds it. Nonetheless, he is so happy to see her, he had barely gotten to see her at all the past couple of weeks. 

Callum grinned up at her, relieved for some reason, “Hi,” he whispered, “Wanna go play?”

Rayla smiles wildly back at him, something soft in her pretty purple eyes before she glanced back inside the room to a still slumbering dragon, “What about Sol Regem?” she wonders worriedly. Callum thinks that the way she talks, with that strange inflection, is super cool.

Callum follows her gaze and shrugs, “He’s asleep.” he tells her. The archdragon had been sleeping a lot, his body tired from healing all of his many injuries. 

“How can you tell?” Rayla wonders as they quickly begin to walk away. 

“How can’t you tell?” Callum asks her cheekily. To him at least, the difference was very obvious. 

The Moonshadow elf pouts, nudges his shoulder with her own before saying “So what do you want to do?” she asks, swinging her arms. 

Callum frowns, “I dunno,” he tells her honestly. He doesn’t want to overstep or be too annoying and instead feels most comfortable allowing Rayla to decide what they do. Truthfully, he is fine with doing anything as long as he gets to do it with her. He is super nervous about his very first friend and desperately wants her to like him. 

Soren’s seemingly good-natured teasing of him being annoying or a half prince had stuck with him more than he would ever realize. Though the other boy’s words may not have come from a place of malice, just from a place of insensitivity towards the young child’s feelings. Doesn’t mean they still didn’t hurt, or cause him lasting doubt on the positive effects his presence had on others. 

Rayla hums in thought, “Wanna see my room?” she asks, and Callum nods easily enough and together they begin walking towards the dragonguard quarters Rayla half a step in front of him.

They pass a few elven patrols and Callum hides behind Rayla as best he can, he isn’t technically supposed to be out of lessons and is terrified he’ll get in trouble. He has never really broken a rule before, and although no one ever said he couldn’t leave his lessons it was… (Callum had to think really super hard for a second to remember the word) implied. Although, he reasons with himself, Sol Regem said that they were on a break right now so he isn’t technically breaking the rules. Still doesn’t quell the anxious twisting in his tummy. 

The elf girl leads him through the spire and to the dragonguard dorms, this area is streamlined with different embellishments along the columns that line each corner of the hallway. The intricate stone carvings on the hallway walls show different moments in elven and draconic history, Rayla tells him, though she doesn’t know what all of them are about besides a few. He reminds himself to go back and look at the carvings more closely later, he has always loved art and wants to appreciate the hard work someone put into the carvings and maybe try to piece together himself what they are saying. 

Callum glances into one of the rooms and sees a series of large pools with three tidebound elves relaxing and chatting in the water, one of them turns to him with her fins perked up and smiles at him with sharp teeth and waves a four-fingered webbed hand at him. He eeps and scurries back to Rayla who hadn’t slowed down at all. She turns into a seemingly random dorm area and down a separate hallway, before entering an open doorway and into a pretty spartan (that meant empty, he learned that word from one of his really big books back home) bedroom with two beds. 

“I have to share with my parents, but I get my own bed!” Rayla turns around with a flourish, gesturing to a twin bed with lots of pillows and just a few strangely embroidered green and gold blankets. The fabric is… strange, almost shiny… sort of like the clothes he had borrowed from Rayla when he first got to the Spire. 

“What’s this?” he asks, running his sore fingers along the blanket. He lifts up the hem that drapes over the edge of the bed and thinks that the way it slips out of his hand is more reminiscent of water than cloth. 

“A blanket?” Rayla says with a raised brow. 

Callum laughs, “No, I mean, like, what’s it made out of?” 

“Silk?” The elf says, with the same inflection, like it should be obvious. 

Callum had never heard of that before, “What’s silk?” he wonders, curious. 

“It’s uhh… made from firemoth caterpillars, I think. There are different types of silk too, for armor and stuff,” she says, her accent shining through strongly. 

“ Caterpillars?” He is sure Rayla is messing with him, somehow, but she seems genuine and Callum simply must know more. “How do you get this,” he gestures to the blanket, “from caterpillars?” 

Rayla scratches around her little budding horns, “Dunno, really. I think it's from the… the cocoon? Maybe. I’ll ask da about it when he comes back, he is super smart and knows all about random stuff like that.” she says. 

Callum nods his head and there is a moment of silence before Rayla suddenly exclaimed “Oh, hey look at this!” and quickly scurries over to the chest at the foot of her bed, opening it and pulling out something wrapped in a loose rough canvas. 

Before he can ask she places the mysterious object on the bed and begins to unwrap it, revealing two strange-looking swords. She picks up one and Callum thinks the blade may be a little too big for her but Rayla is grinning and proudly presents it to the human. “Got these for my birthday! Ma said that she is gonna teach me how to use them, but right now all she is doing is making me do dumb katas all day. I’m not even really allowed to use them yet until I learn ‘ proper form’, it’s dumb.” she laments in frustration, doing a strange movement with her hand that causes the two intersecting blades to… fold into one another. Callum thinks it is the coolest thing he has ever seen. And he hangs out with a dragon all day! 

“Woah…” he says, awed. 

Rayla grins proudly before reverting the blade back to its normal state and putting it back with its sibling on the bed. She carefully wraps the two swords back up and puts them back into the chest, almost reverently. 

“So, I heard that you can make different types of magic?” The elf girl asks, jumping back to sit on the bed, her feet swinging languidly. 

“Yeah…” Callum says, shyly. He knows that being able to do so is very special but at the same time it doesn’t feel like that at all. While magic is super cool Callum doesn’t really… care? At least as much as he thinks he should. He supposes it has something to do with him the fact that he wasn’t raised here and as such as no meaningful connection with the primal sources beyond physical. To him… it’s just something cool he can do, not really a way of life or a belief like it seemed to be with almost everyone else he has met in Xadia. And that made him feel uncomfortable and left out. He felt kind of homesick at that moment. 

“And the Lady Zubeia is teaching you sky primal magic?” Rayla asks, her violet eyes shining prettily. Callum nods his head, glad she is with him to distract from the painful tug in his tummy. “Do you think you’ll be learning the moon primal too?” she wonders next. 

Callum hopes not, he can barely keep up with two different primal sources, let alone three. And apparently he is supposed to learn all six! Callum remembers reading from a book in the section of the library he wasn’t allowed to go into about how startouch elves had disappeared without a trace hundreds of years ago, the boy assumes the same with the dragons affiliated with the star primal are also gone so he wonders if that is true and if it will even be a possibility for him to learn the star primal. He reminds himself to ask Sol Regem about that later. 

Callum shrugs.

If Rayla is bothered by his quiet nature she doesn’t show it and instead hums with a smile that Callum cannot interpret. Her violet gaze travels from his face down to his hands and her smile pulls into a frown and she gingerly grabs his wrist to inspect them.  

“What happened?” Rayla wonders, running her fingers gingerly against the red skin on his arms. 

“Sunburn,” Callum yawns tiredly, sitting next to her on the bed. 

For her part, Rayla looks startled “ Sunburn? The sun burns you?” she asked incredulously. 

The boy nods his head, “Yeah? It’s normal for humans -- some people can get it more easily though,” 

“...weird,” she allows dubiously, rolls his hand around palm up, and rubs around the red sores on his fingertips gently. “And these?” she asked. 

“I think they’re… magic burns? Not from the sun primal though. I think they’re from writing sigils,” he tells her. 

Rayla frowns at that, “You must be working really hard…” she says, almost sadly. Callum doesn’t understand why. 

Callum shrugs, “I guess so,” he tells her, for lack of anything else to say. 

“I’ve never been very good with magic,” Rayla admits, laughing with embarrassment. “I learned the basics in school, but… I dunno, I just don’t think it’s my thing.”

“Maybe your thing is swords?” Callum wonders and the elf girl seems to perk up at that with a smile. “I’m not good with swords,” he tells her next, he had barely begun to learn, and yet he hated it nonetheless. It made him upset because his mom was amazing with all different sorts of weapons and he just didn’t feel like they were his… thing. 

Rayla laughs at that, “Then I guess magic is your thing then!” she tells him and Callum smiles a little helplessly at that. 

“I think my thing is art,” he tells her shyly.

“You draw?” Rayla wonders excitedly. 

The brunet nods, “Yeah, my mom is -- was teaching me. I’m not that good yet, though.” 

The Moonshadow elf jumps to her feet without saying anything and glides over to her chest and opens it, rummaging through a moment before grabbing something and vaulting over the foot of the bed and plopping down back in front of Callum with much more grace than he thought was natural. She presented him with a… book and an embellished silver pen.

“Here. For you to draw in!” She says. 

“Rayla…” he can’t think of anything else to say. 

“My parent’s friend Ethari made them for me! But… I haven’t really used them and I think you would enjoy them more than I would.” she explains with an innocent genuinity that made warmth bloom in his chest. He gingerly reaches out and takes the book and pen, flipping through the blank pages of the book with a growing smile.

“Thank you,” he tells her. Rayla hums happily at his acceptance of her gift. He safely holds it pressed against his chest underneath his crossed arms, feeling warm and happy. 

The elf girl goes on to show him a few more objects she has in her room before there is nothing cool left to see and they both sit on her bed, facing each other, Rayla teaching Callum and elf counting game with their fingers. Changes have to be made for the extra pair of fingers the human possesses but it is still a lot of fun. 

When Callum wins the fourth game in a row Rayla throws herself back onto the bed dramatically, “Let’s play something else,” she pouts, but he knows she isn’t actually upset about losing. 

“Hide ‘n seek?” the boy suggested nervously. 

Rayla thinks about it for a second, “Sure!” she decides and Callum smiles. 

“You hide, I seek?” he offers and Rayla agrees and they hash out the rules, Callum will count to sixty and then go seeking, no hiding in other elf’s rooms or places that would be too hard to get to. He buries his face into his hands to assure Rayla he is not peeking and the elf girl quickly scurries off as he begins counting. 

He reaches sixty and lifts his head, leaving the room and immediately coming to a halt. She could’ve gone either left or right down the hall… without thinking he takes a deep breath through his nose and… and she went left. Turning, the boy makes it down the hall and continues to scent the air as he goes. 

Rayla smells like nighttime (he thinks idly that must be the moon primal) and something that's just indescribably Rayla. It’s not anything specific really, neither good or bad, just a smell that he associates with her now. It is pretty hard to follow though, and he gets turned around many times but after a few long minutes of searching he finally found her hiding 

“You found me so fast!” the white-haired girl whines, shoving his shoulder good-naturedly. “Your turn!” she tells him as she plops down and covers her eyes.

He flounders for a moment as Rayla begins to count, looking around him wildly before picking a random direction and running as fast as he could up the main hall that spiraled through the Spire. He skids around a corner and hides himself in a small nook between a column and the wall just as he hears Rayla distantly shout “Ready or not, here I come!” 

When the elf girl pounces on him a few minutes later he screams and they fall to the floor laughing, and then it is Rayla’s turn to hide, and they went on like that for a long time. Their game has traveled up the spiral and they are now near the top, it is Callum’s turn to hide and he is running around trying to find a good place when a whisper of something catches his attention. He frowns, looking around confused, he quickly forgets about it as he sees a room that would probably be good to hide in. 

It is a large cavern, like the one he and Sol Regem are staying in, but this one is covered with beautiful greenery and natural light filters through a hole in the ceiling way up high. Butterflies with glowing wings flutter around the array of wildflowers that grow on the walls and floor and pretty vines branch through the entire space. Callum gapes and does a full circle to admire the new room he is in, before unthinkingly scurrying in. 

He looks for a good place to hide when something reflective catches his eye and the boy turns to see a… mirror? Nestled into the far corner of the room, held firmly between a couple twisting vines. It is so oddly out of place in this space that he simply must investigate. As he silently approaches, sniffing at the air in a rather draconic manor, he feels a tug in his tummy. Something is pulling him closer. 

He gingerly peers into the mirror and is confused when he doesn’t see his reflection, but a room that sort of reminds him of Harrow’s study. There is a bookshelf in the corner of the room and Callum cannot help the pull of intrigue and he sort of yearns to look at the books and see if any of them are interesting. 

‘ Maybe not a mirror… then a window? ’ He wonders, looking behind the mirror, but there is nothing behind it. Frowning, he gingerly pokes the back of the mirror, circling back to the front with a huff and nearly screams at the cloaked figure standing languidly in the center of the frame. 

Jumping back with a hiss of surprise, Callum glares at the… he thinks its an elf. Though he doesn’t look like any kind of elf at the spire, his skin is purple with glowing freckles scattered across his whole body, but his hair is white and long so he thinks that maybe the tall man in front of him is a Moonshadow elf. But something within him says that is wrong. 

The elf seems very amused by his reaction, a charming smile tugging at his lips as he stares down at Callum. Unsure of what to do, the child waves nervously, the man’s smile turns into a grin and the stranger waves a four-fingered hand back at him, and Callum allows himself to relax marginally. 

“Hello,” he says nervously, inching forward. The elf crosses his arms behind his back and bows with a flourish that makes him laugh, hugging the sketchbook that Rayla gave him to his chest. 

“Who are you? Why are you in there?” Callum asked the tall man, poking at the mirror. The glowing elf frowns again, then points to his pointed ear meaningfully. “Oh! You can’t hear! That’s alright, I have an aunt who can’t hear too!” he tells the man before putting his sketchbook down to move his hands properly. 

“ You know sign language? ” he signs, he isn’t quite fluent but he knows enough to hold a conversation easily enough with his Aunt Amaya. The man frowns at Callum’s hands, uncomprehending. Oh… well this will be harder then Callum thought. 

He looks around for something to help him communicate with the man, his gaze flickering down to his new sketchbook and pen that he had placed on the floor. He would hate for his first thing in the new book to be not a drawing, but Callum is about to make a potential friend so he doesn’t mind. Opening up to the first page, Callum writes out ‘ Hello! I am Callum ’ as neatly as he can and presents it back to the elf. 

The stranger squints at the words and it seems to take him a long time to decipher and Callum worries that his handwriting was too messy. That is something he struggled a lot with. But the man turns to the weird-looking desk thing and grabs some paper and a really pretty pen and inkwell. It takes him a moment before he writes something down, like he is remembering how to write. Or maybe he just isn’t good at writing Callum’s language, it might be the later because when the man presents his own sheet to Callum his lines are really clean and pretty. He leans in closer to read the words. 

‘ Greetings I am Aaravos.’ 

“Are-oh-vos…” He reads out, frowning in concentration. It is a strange word after all. “Aaravos? Aaravos.”

The elf, Aaravos, smiles at him. Despite the welcoming and kind aura the man gives off right now, something about it seems… sickly sweet. Callum thinks he is being paranoid and grabs his book to write out something else. 

‘ Your horns are super cool’, He feels like he must inform the elf, but when the other goes to read his words he seems more confused than pleased by the compliment. Maybe he doesn’t know what cool means? Callum is about to try and explain but Aaravos is already writing. 

‘ What are you doing at the Storm Spire?’  there is a word crossed out in the middle that Callum assumes the white-haired elf messed up on. 

It takes Callum a long few minutes to write out his response, he hunches over his book with his tongue sticking out. ‘ I’m here to visit Regem’s friends and learn sky primal magic! It’s really hard though, and sun magic is really hard too. But it is fun, I guess.’ 

The man has to reread his response multiple times, looks bewildered for some reason, ‘ Sol Regem?’ the elf confirms and when Callum nods his head the man writes something else ‘ Your learning sky primal magic? You are human yes?’ 

The brunet nods his head, writing something ‘ I can use all different types of magic! Apparently that is super special’

For his part, Aaravos looks positively gleeful when he reads that. But before he can respond he hears Rayla shouting for him somewhere in the distance, and he turns his head towards the noise. Apparently she has given up trying to find him and Callum abruptly remembers he was playing hide n’ seek. 

‘ I gotta go! I’ll come visit again!’ he quickly scribbles out onto the paper. Aaravos waves him goodbye and Callum quickly turns and runs out of the big cavern and towards Rayla’s calls. He doesn’t see the practically maniacal grin on Aaravos’s face. 

“How interesting…” the elf whispers to himself as he turns from the mirror. 

Chapter Text

Waking up from his nap without Callum near all but sent Sol Regem into a panic. 

He woke up slow, idly stretching his senses outwards to check the room around him sleepily. It took him a long moment to realize that something was wrong, that he couldn’t hear Callum;s heart or breath and that his scent was stale in the air that shoved all sleepiness from his head and he was instantly alert. 

His head shot up, his smallest set of horns banging on the side of the wall in his haste causing him to snarl in irritation before swinging his head to and fro, searching without sight for the small boy. An alarmed warble leaving his chest, calling out with a high pitched chirping noise. No answer. 

Hauling himself to his feet, Sol Regem limped to the entrance of the room and scented the ground. His brow narrowed at the stench of moon primal magic, Callum must have snuck off with that elf hatchling again. 

He tried his best to swallow his irritation and worry. It wasn’t necessarily that Sol Regem disliked Callum making friends, he didn’t really care to be honest, but the fact that he continued to sneak off without at least telling the archdragon where he was going. That Sol Regem was not aware of exactly where he had gone or when he had come back.

The boy seemed far too young to be wandering off by himself, accompanied by a friend or no. Rayla, he only knows her name because Callum won’t shut up about her, is only a year older than Callum and his understanding of human and elves development is sorely lacking but neither child seems old enough to be alone without supervision. 

With Callum’s luck he might just trip and fall straight off the Spire. 

The thought sends an intense stab of anxiety through his chest and he has to fight against the urge to roar for Callum to come back to him this instant. But he refrains… just barely. He imagines if Zubeia were next to him right now she would be proud of his restraint. 

Nonetheless, it is almost time for Zubeia’s time with Callum and the sun drake needs to find the boy before then. He is annoyed that they did not get to finish their lesson on solar flares and eclipses but it can wait for tomorrow, he will just have to work the boy twice as hard to make up for the lost time today. 

With a sigh, he sets off to find Callum. Following the scent trail that leads further down the spire and towards the ‘guard dorms. 

A patrol of elves pass him and Sol Regem calls out to them, “Dragonguard, have you seen Callum?” he asks. 

The elves share glances before a sunfire elf speaks up. “Last I heard him and Rayla was near the royal quarters playing, my lord.” he explains 

Sol Regem nods and turns around to travel back up the Spire, pausing after a moment and calling out a soft “Thank you,” behind him to the patrol. On his spiraling ascension back up the tower he wonders what in the world took over him to thank the elf guard. It was their job to serve the dragons, after all. During his reign he would have never even thought of thanking his guard, so why…

Before he can think on it any more he hears the sound of Callum laughing and follows the sound to find him and that elf girl chasing each other around the hall outside of the royal chambers. Just as the patrol had said. 

A clicking noise ricochets around the cage of his ribs, announcing his presence to the two children. 

“Sol!” Callum calls out happily, “You’re up! Hey, you’ll never guess what I found! I found an elf in a m-”

“Come, Callum. We must continue your lessons,” Sol Regem calls out to the boy, interrupting him. Too annoyed to truly care what the human was about to say. Turning away and expecting him to follow. And he does, but the elf girl next to him reaches out and grabs his wrist, keeping him in place. 

“You are working him too hard!” the little elfling shouts, surprising Sol Regem enough for him to pause in his stride.

“ Rayla !” Callum hisses but the girl plows on despite the dragon’s ward’s warnings.

“He’s really tired all the time and -- and look at his hands! He’s hurting and is exhausted, why can’t you see that!?” Her accent overlays each of her words strongly and the archdragon is thrown. “Don’t you care about him? All he does every day is practice magic! He isn’t a dragon, you’re -- you are expecting too much from him! We aren’t grownups!” 

“Enough.” he growls and Rayla immediately closes her mouth. “Callum, is this true?” he turns his attention to the human boy, who hunches in on himself and scuffs his boots on the polished stone floor. 

“ Callum.” he barks when the boy stays quiet and cowers. 

“I dunno, maybe?” he sounds almost strangled in his answer. 

“Are we… am I working you too hard?” he questions. 

Callum swallows, “I mean… I am really tired lately. But it’s okay!” 

“No, it isn’t.” Rayla grumbles. 

Sol Regem sighs. “Why did you not tell me?” 

Something heavy and slimy twists his stomach, guilt he realizes. He is guilty. It was hard to remember that Callum was not a dragon sometimes, he sounded and smelled like a dragon hatchling afterall and without sight Sol Regem that fact often slipped his mind. Humans were fragile, delicate. They could not withstand what dragon hatchlings could and the archdragon cursed himself for taking advantage of Callum’s timid nature and forcing him to go beyond his limits. 

They knew nothing about Callum’s magic. Did not know where the power came from, since he was not connected to a primal source. It could be taking from something far more fragile, like his life source, and if… if Sol Regem pushed him too far who knows what could happen. 

“I don’t… know. I didn’t want to bother you,” Callum whispered. 

Sol Regem let out a harsh breath of flame, “Callum, you have to tell me when it is too much. I don’t…” I don’t know how to tell when it’s too much. 

The boy lets out a draconic whimpering noise that all but breaks his heart and shuffles closer to Sol Regem. The gold drake bows his head down and he feels Callum rest his forehead against the soft scales of his snout. A comforting rumble vibrates through the archdragon and Callum responds with his own rumble, though much smaller and higher pitch.

“How would you like to go down to the ground to play?” Sol Regem asks Callum gently. 

“How would we get down?” Callum wonders, tugging at the old drake’s beard. 

“Flying,”

The human looks up at him, “You’re still hurt though!” 

“I am healing well, besides,” he tells Callum with a smile, “it would be good to stretch my wings.”

“Can Rayla come?” the boy asks hopefully. 

Sol Regem hesitates, “We will have to ask her parents next time we go, okay?” Callum is slightly disappointed, but says goodbye to Rayla who doesn’t seem to mind the early departure and the two step out onto the landing balcony. 

It is here that Callum hesitates before climbing onto Sol Regem, and steps back with a draconic whimper. 

“Hey,” the gold dragon soothes, turning his head to nuzzle at the boy, “I will never let you fall again, I promise.” he whispers to the boy. Callum takes a few deep breaths before nodding his head using Sol Regem’s smallest horn as a handhold to haul himself on top of the drake’s head. 

“Okay… I’m ready,” Callum whispers, burying his face into the prime’s scales. 

As gently as he can, Sol Regem takes off into a gentle glide. Spiraling wide down near the base of the spire, it takes longer than what is necessary but the archdragon is willing to spend the time for Callum’s comfort. Before long his talons touch on soft grass and he hunches down close to the ground so that his burden can climb off easily. 

“Let’s play a game!” Callum suggested when he slid off the side of his neck and lands on the soft green grass. Sol Regem lifted his head to turn towards the human, with a frown. Play was a very important part of a young drake’s development, he knew this well, but the old dragon was… reluctant. 

It had been hundreds of years since he had -- played . And even then that play had consisted of brawling with Avizandum, and Sol Regem very much doubted he could initiate that sort of game to Callum. 

“What do you want to play?” Sol Regem sighed. 

Callum thought about it for a moment, “Tag!” he finally decided. Sol Regem thought about it, tag did help condition oneself towards predator and prey mentality and the drake supposed it would be a good exercise nonetheless and hauled himself to his feet. 

“Alright,” Sol Regem growled and bowed down in a play crouch with a rumble, making Callum squeal and turn tail and run. The old dragon grinned and gingerly chased after the boy, constantly aware of just how much bigger he was then Callum and just how easily an accident could happen. 

His movements were deliberately slow (despite running at a full sprint Sol Regem could catch up to Callum in less then a stride if he wanted to) but that wasn’t part of the game and the drake did not mind the relatively slow pace of the chase. 

“You’re it,” Sol Regem growled lowly as he nudged Callum in the back, causing him to stumble a few steps. 

Callum panted and began to chase after the dragon who danced away from the boy with ease, thanks to his panting and growling Sol Regem could easily pinpoint where Callum was and cheekily avoided him. Feeling particularly mischievous, he gathered his limbs underneath him and leaped straight over Callum without even spreading his wings, the ground trembling underneath him when he landed. Turning with a grin, tail waving behind him as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. 

“No fair!” Callum whined, panting heavily. 

Sol Regem crouched and began to paw at the boy, “Life isn’t fair,” he said, “If you ever have an advantage over an opponent, always take it. There is no honor if you’re dead.” 

“It’s against the rules!” Callum whined, apparently not caring about his words, trying to grab onto the dragon’s talon that hovered above his head.

“We did not assign any rules to this game,” Sol Regem told him with a smirk, gently pushing the boy to the ground with a deadly sharp talon. He did not expect him to fall down so hard and jerked back in alarm as Callum made a small hissing sound followed by a whimper. 

Alarmed, Sol Regem bowed his head down to sniff at him in hopes to scent if he had accidentally injured him. His worry was quickly replaced by amused annoyance when Callum shot to life once he had hovered close enough and leaped onto the top of his snout with a cry of “Got you!” 

He raised his head slightly, Callum still clinging to the soft skin of his nose and giggling madly, and shook his head gently in a playful attempt to get him off. “You little brat,” he couldn’t help the smile from pulling at his mouth though. 

“You just said that there are no rules!” Callum was still laughing, apparently ever so proud of himself for tricking the dragon. 

“That I did,” Sol Regem said with a smile, lowering himself back down so Callum’s feet touched the ground and he could let go of his snout safely. 

As soon as Callum’s feet touched the ground he shot off like an arrow. Sighing fondly, the archdragon followed.

Later that day after the grueling flight back up to the top of the spire, Sol Regem had allowed Callum to go and play with Rayla calling that lessons for tomorrow and until the human’s hands had healed would be stopped. Guilt still tugged at his gut but he hoped this made up for his oversight in some way. 

He lays out at the very top of the spire, sunbathing in the evening light. His gold scales soak in the rays greedily and Sol Regem sighs at the warmth. 

Suddenly, he smells someone familiar approaching and lifts his head. “I would have thought you would have sought me out sooner,” he tells the dragon king who practically shuffles awkwardly closer. 

“Apologies, my friend. You always seemed so busy with… the human,” the sky archdragon admits nearly sheepishly. Sol Regem lets out a puff of smoke and lifts his tattered wings closer to himself in invitation for the other drake to settle next to him. 

“It is… good to see you again,” Avizandum says softly as he lays down on the smooth stone, his soft fur brushing against Sol Regem’s scales, he can feel his icey eyes burn into his scales. 

“I would say the same but…” Sol Regem can’t help the grin that pulls at his mouth, feeling particularly cheeky. 

Next to him, Avizandum snorts, “You are well then?” 

Sol Regem hums, “Relatively,” is all he says on the matter. 

“I’m relieved,” the storm king admits, “Hopefully Lunyx will stop pestering me about you now,” he tells Sol Regem with a smile in his words. 

Now it is the gold dragon’s turn to snort, “Oh?”

“ Yes,” Avizandum laments, “Told me you chased him off when he tried checking on you the first dozen times and thought for sure that I knew what the hell you were doing near the Moonstones.”

“I was guarding them, the moonstones are the easiest way into Xadia down south.” Sol Regem grumps. “Any word on Aecoragrim?” he wonders. 

Avizandum lets out a humming growl, after a moment he speaks “Tidebound elves have last seen him to the southeast, near the Mokutan Islands. He only travels out of the ocean to visit Lunyx these days. Does he still have it out for you?” 

“I haven’t seen him in five hundred years, but you know how Aecoragrim is, he is not one to forget a grudge.” Sol Regem says, lifting his face to feel the warmth of the sun on his scars. 

“Still, I would tread carefully, my friend.” Avizandum cautions and Sol Regem nods his head. In his prime he could barely overpower the ocean archdragon; blinded and weak he stands no chance if Aecoragrim decides to hunt him down. 

They sit in companionable silence for a long time after that. The storm king hesitantly lays his head down next to Sol Regem and the archdragon stiffens ever so slightly before gingerly resting his head on the dragon king’s neck, burying his nose into the soft fur there and practically going limp with something like relief warm in his chest. 

It is… nice. To share the same space with his closest friend once again. The two archdragons lay curled together like nestmates, lazing under the afternoon sun and Sol Regem feels content. 

He didn’t realize how much he had craved physical contact until that moment and soaks up the sky drake’s warmth greedily and cannot stop the purr that rumbles deep in his chest. Avizandum answers with his own grumbling purr that sounds more like rolling thunder than anything else. It is a relief like nothing else to lazily drift into another nap with the smell of rain and lightning filling his senses. 

Together they lay until the final rays of sun dipped below the horizon and they did not move until a very amused Zubeia came across them and said that it was time for them to go inside.

Viren closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. In front of him is a desk stacked high with dusty old tomes falling apart at the seams and half-rotted scrolls dug out from the farthest depths of the capitol’s libraries. 

Tireless weeks of scouring through every ancient text the kingdom had available and finally he has found something that just might work. 

The spell itself is simple enough, Viren even has everything the dark magic needs to activate in his secret study, it is the process leading up to the spell itself that gives him pause. Creating a relative plain on a map so that the readings were accurate, however… took a great deal of math and patience on his part. But after three days of careful equations and triple checking all of his work he was optimistic.

Now, all he needed was something of Callum’s, a lock of hair preferably. Easier said than done. Apparently, the half prince’s sheets had been changed the day before he left and no locks of hair could be found, especially after almost three weeks having passed since his disappearance. 

Personally, Viren believed the boy was probably already dead. Whatever… creature the good general claimed to have found tracks of had probably long since eaten the boy. He wonders if that would have any effect on the tracking spell he planned on casting. 

Nonetheless, he promised Harrow he would do everything in his power to find the King’s stepchild and Viren did not make it a habit of breaking promises, especially to Harrow. He was a man of his word, if nothing else. 

Before now, Viren did not have much of an opinion on Callum. He was a shy, timid boy who Viren barely took notice of beyond concern for young Ezran's claim to the throne. He was only doing this for Harrow. Always for Harrow. 

The king’s mood had rapidly deteriorated in the past weeks and he had continuously been pushing away his duties to watch over Ezran instead of ruling the kingdom. As a father himself, Viren could somewhat understand the mindset. If something ever happened to Soren or… or Claudia he does not know what he would do. He supposes Harrow is taking the loss of both wife and stepchild as well as can be expected, but Viren is starting to become concerned for both his dear friend’s wellbeing and for the wellbeing of Katolis. 

With a sigh, he gathers all of the supplies he will need and steps out of his dungeon to go prepare. 

He finds Harrow in his chambers a couple of hours later, looking out the window and at the sunset. Pip perched on his forearm, running the back of his fingers along his songbird’s flank. The bird’s head turns completely around to study Viren with sharp yellow eyes. He idly notices the bald patches on its chest from the bird plucking its own feathers out, dumb thing. 

“My king,” Viren bows his head in greeting, hearing Ezran coo in his crib in the corner. 

“Have you found anything?” Harrow doesn’t take his eyes off the sunset. 

“... Yes. I have discovered a spell I believe might work,” Viren says, “I have everything ready, I just need a lock of -- Callum’s hair.”

Harrow turns his head slightly in thought, transferring Pip to one of the songbird’s many perches and walks over to the nightstand, pulling out a familiar red piece of fabric. Viren idly remembers it was a gift from Harrow himself the first time he had met Callum, the boy had hardly ever taken it off after that. 

The king gingerly handles the scarf, unfolding it as if it were made of glass, his sharp blue eyes searching. He pauses as he finds a strand of brown hair caught in between the stitching of the soft fabric and pulls it out with a thumb and forefinger. 

“Will this work?” His voice is hoarse and deep as he presents the hair to Viren. 

The advisor takes the offered hair with great care and nods. 

The two men travel to Viren’s more… public office, where he has already set everything up. A highly detailed map of the continent is splayed across his entire desk, smooth rocks weigh down the map on either corner. Underneath the paper, Viren has already carved intricate symbols into the wood and various bowls and canisters are crowded along the edges of the desk. 

“I was able to find two tracking spells in my research, I believe this one will have more… accurate results.” Viren says, closing the door behind Harrow. “If all goes correctly, the spell should show us exactly where Callum is on this map.” he gestures to the desk. 

Despite everything, Viren can see the curiosity peak in Harrow’s eyes. The man was always so fascinated with magic, despite his foolish hesitancy towards dark magic. Viren hoped one day he could make Harrow understand that dark magic wasn’t something to be disgusted by, it was power. And power was everything. 

“Get started then,” Harrow nods, stepping back against the far wall with his arms crossed. Viren thinks this is the first time he has looked like a king since Sarai’s passing.

Viren nods, turning his attention to his desk and begins to pick up the various supplies, mixing them into a wooden bowl with a dark symbol carved into the bottom. The main ingredient in this spell is selkie bone dust and moonstrider eye, both very rare. It would be a great loss if the spell did not work. He begins to chant the incantation, his eyes bleeding black as the candles in the room dim. In the corner, he is vaguely aware of Harrow’s icy stare but keeps his focus on the dark magic that pumps through his veins like black sludge. The exhilarating feeling of power threatens to pull a smile on his face and he relishes in the feeling for a moment before continuing with the spell. 

With dark stained hands, he picks up the strand of hair and drops it into the bowl, a dark violet cloud plooms up from the bowl before fading out. Still chanting he takes a handful of the powder within the bowl, taking a deep breath he blows the dust out onto the map splayed before him. The purple powder hovers over the paper a moment and then sinks into the map a moment later, leaving a strange sheen over the map. 

Then… nothing. 

The candles brighten as the spell is complete, leaving stark silence. Harrow frowns, “Was that it?”

“I… yes,” Viren flounders. 

The king pushes himself off of the wall and towards the map, “There’s nothing there,” he points out, something dangerous and scared in his voice. 

“Yes, well there is a possibility that it didn’t work --”

“Why wouldn’t it have worked?” Harrow demands. 

“I-I don’t know. I may have performed the spell wrong or… or it didn’t work because Callum is--”

“ Don’t.” Harrow hisses and Viren steps back at the downright dangerous gleam in Harrow’s blue eyes that seem to glow with anger and pain the likes of which Viren has never seen. 

Viren swallows, “My… my king, maybe it is best if you try to accept the fact that your… ward maybe isn’t coming back…” 

“I said DON’T!” Harrow suddenly shouts, making Viren flinch and watch helplessly as his friend punches the wall with a loud slam. The king flexes his bleeding hand with a snarl, “You talk about him as if he isn’t my son. He is. He is mine. My boy, my son, and he is missing! Don’t -- don’t talk about him as if he is gone , because he isn’t! I know he isn’t...” Harrow grit his teeth, eyes shining and Viren felt helpless. 

Then, something caught his eye and he turned to look at the map. A light shines on the middle northeast of the map, far in Xadia territory. “Harrow,” he called and the king’s head snapped up. Viren and Harrow lean in to look closer, as he processes where the marker is Viren closes his eyes and lets out a harsh sigh. 

“He is at the Storm Spire,” he says, almost hesitantly. He looks from the map and across at Harrow, who hasn’t said a word and is staring down at the map, his face unreadable. A long silent moment passes before Viren can gather the words to speak once again, it has been a long time since the king of Katolis has been so frightening. 

Abruptly, Harrow pushes off from the desk and stalks towards the door. 

“My king..?” Viren calls hesitantly.

Harrow turns, his eyes icey cold, “Rally the banners, call the Pentarchy to order. 

We are getting my son back.”