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Chapter Text

When she woke up outside the Temple, her first thought was, I am alive.

This was before she opened her eyes, so she hadn't yet had a chance to see the sunset sky saturated with impossible colours that would make her take back that statement.

Taking one slow breath after another and focusing on the glorious cool air flooding her lungs, something she had once taken for granted, she gently curled her fingers. Her palm was warm. So was the humid air.

That was familiar. Perhaps she was back home on the ocean shores she had grown up on, where the summer air was as thick and wet as syrup.

But that was unlikely. Wherever she was, it probably wasn't home.

She thought about laying there forever and never finding out, but the bed of tree roots and thorny branches she had been unceremoniously deposited on didn't make for the most comfortable resting place. So she cracked open an eye.

Perhaps not, the girl thought then, slowly raising a heavy arm to reach for the sky. She blinked hard, but the illusion didn't break. The world blurred together like a watercolour picture, edges soft, imperfect, messy. An artist's hand.

For a girl that had arisen every day to the dull colours and sharp shapes of reality, waking up inside a painting was more than a little bit jarring.

And yet... It's beautiful. She let her hand drop and her eyes wander, drinking in the sights with ravenous eyes. The sunsets she knew were often boring, as if the world couldn't muster the strength, but this... The sky was an absolute explosion of colour, streaks of green and red and pink and blue spiralling together, bursting with an intensity her overstimulated eye cones didn't know was possible.

She thought she could stare at that sky forever, but eventually, as the colours began to fade and swirl towards the horizon, something compelled her to sit up. She did, stretching and picking leaves out of her dark hair, but as she opened her eyes, her breath caught in her throat.

She would have known it anywhere.

She'd grown far, far away from that little kid who refused to stop believing in dragons, and the game had become a distant memory. But even after all these years, she instantly recognized the building. The gigantic dome rising from its surrounding structures overrun with vines, a glorious stained glass ceiling sending colours spilling into the sky. Where else could this be?

Well, she thought, gulping and staring down the titan architectural feat that was the Temple, I guess this is where you go when you die.

Chapter Text

When you wake up in a strange world, a world filled with monsters and creatures of darkness, do you pick to wander aimlessly back into the forest? Or do you choose the daunting building right in front of you, regardless of the dangers it may hold?

The problem was that there were just too many ifshere. She couldn't know what was waiting for her in the Temple. She knew roughly where she was in the Dragon Realms, but she didn't know when she was. Maybe she'd been dropped here a hundred years before the Guardians were born, or long after the story had ended, or even somewhere in the middle.

With the dusty, ornate halls looking as if they hadn't been trodden through in centuries, she worried that the Temple was entirely abandoned. She might find nothing there and starve to death alone. Or, forced to wander into the forest, end up slaughtered by wildlife.

But maybe the Guardians were waiting within. Maybe they could help her.

Maybe they would kill her.

She knew that the Guardians were on the good side. They were honourable and brave warriors, great and just leaders. But she had no reason to believe they would be merciful or kind, especially to a strange creature they had never seen the likes of before, a pitiful creature who would be of no use to them even if they didn't ascertain her as a threat.

And if they didn't recognize her as an ally despite her alien form, if they thought for one second that she was one of them... She would be incinerated on the spot. This she was painfully aware of.

An hour from now, would she still be alive...?

Even if someone did still inhabit this place, she didn't see this going well. But her other options were to run into the mushroom forest that was inhabited by dangerous creatures, on what she knew was a small island without any other signs of civilization. What, were Spyro's parents going to help her?

No. This was the only choice she had.

I've died once already I think, so I suppose it doesn't do any harm if I do it again, she pondered as she slipped through the hallways, drifting her fingers along ancient runes carved into the walls.

Her footsteps echoed softly, and suddenly she missed being outside, because at least she could hear the gentle ambiance of bugs and forest creatures. Here the heavy vastness of the Temple masked it, left her drowning in the darkness.

A part of her hoped that she would find someone here, however hostile they were, so at least the horrible weight of the silence would lift off her chest. Stepping gently through these halls, she could feel it crushing her, coiling around her like a snake.

She wanted to scream but thought better of it, so she had to swallow her panic as she wandered helplessly, knowing that she was just a kid in way over her head.

Chapter Text

Eventually, tripping through dusty old rooms and ruins, she found something familiar.

Stumbling, exhausted from an hour of aimless walking, she fell to her knees before the Pool of Visions. Her murky green reflection gawked back at her, a face she almost didn't recognize with its new soft lines, its frazzled dark hair and wild eyes.

It would be a wonder if they didn't think her to be a monster with a face like that. She couldn't wipe the scared look off her face, but she managed to at least smooth down her hair and pick a stray few pine straws out of it. Rising on unsteady feet, she headed through the door at the opposite end of the small round room.

The girl already knew what lay beyond that carved wooden door, but she couldn't help but stare up in awe at the dragon that greeted her with a disdainful stare.

Expertly crafted sandstone, smooth to the touch, carved with intricate detailing that made it seem as if he really was perched regally before her. Glowing eyes that glared holes through her, keeping her gaze locked upon him. Her five little feet were nothing compared to this.

“Malefor,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

And then the opposite door opened.

So the Temple was inhabited. Terror surged up in her and she dropped to the ground, though the statue's wide berth was more than enough to hide her slim figure. Hearing the footsteps going around the left, she slid around the right side of the statue, praying that dragons' sense of smell wasn't well developed in particular.

It may have been smarter to approach them directly, because sneaking around like a thief would probably earn her a fireball to the back. Though popping out from her hiding place now would most likely earn her a fireball to the face, so she decided to avoid the dragon for now, all the while wondering if they could feel her heart pounding anyway.

The beast's footsteps that seemed to shake the ground paused for a moment, and something flared up to fill the stillness. It was like she could feel him there, a weight to his presence she could almost reach out and touch. Her breath caught in her throat and she held it.

After an intense few seconds, the dragon resumed his walk, a bit more slowly this time, and the girl heard the door she had come through open and shut.

It was a good ten seconds before she could breathe again. Half-crawling until she could find the strength to stand again, she made her way to the other door.

It opened as she approached, and she was greeted again by the impossible sky. She trod forward gladly down a small incline and onto the balcony she remembered well.

The rest was welcome, and she lay her head down on her arms upon the short guard-wall. Staring upwards, she felt then as if she could fall into that horizon and fly away, melting into those colours.

Even if she died here, even if she made it back home, she knew that she would carry that sky with her forever.

Up on the balcony, a cool ocean breeze lifted her hair. From this vantage point she could see that the island was not so big. The coast was distant but visible, the land cut in twain by a winding river that spilled into the sea. And there wasn't so much as another building in sight, except for one small stone tower that had been blasted to pieces by some war and now sat sagging with its own weight.

So she really was trapped here. It would take days to get to the edge of the island, and even if she could survive the monsters that lived in the swamp, she would have no way to leave the island. So if the Guardians – or whoever was living here – rejected her, she would die.

It must be that dragons emit auras, for as she stood there pondering her limited options, that distinct presence from before brushed over her back and called her out of her thoughts. Moments later came those footsteps she could have felt from a mile away.

Fire, she thought as the aura grew closer and more intense. Heat, raw power, wrapping around her and drawing her in. Before it had been slight, like holding her hand up to a fire, but now she felt it so clearly that it was like being engulfed by a thousand flames.

The girl became uncomfortably aware that she was cornered. She peered over the balcony with rising panic, but the ground was too far away and she wouldn't be much better off with two broken legs.

She looked around desperately but found no convenient escape route, nowhere to hide. A big, dangerous dragon was coming through the only way out and she had to think fast. So she did what any teenage girl would do when faced with a fiery death of which there was no escape.

She ran behind a pillar, curled into a ball, and cried.

No, that girl had never been brave or strong once in her entire life. She was just a kid, a kid who had in her last moments known blood and death and pain, a kid who had woken up alive in a hostile world, a world ravaged by war, a world no more welcome to her than the one she had come from. So she cried.

As Ignitus rounded the corner and peered down on the curious sight below him, that was what he found. An unknown creature with a strange mop of fur on their head, their face buried into their knees, clearly distressed. Perhaps the girl's tactic had succeeded, because seeing such a small being in a vulnerable position like that put aside any fear or apprehension he'd been feeling.

He had been on edge, having heard the door he'd just come from close behind him and detecting a presence before that he had brushed off as nerves. He was expecting to find some swamp monster, or perhaps an over-adventurous ape, that he could easily kick off the balcony. But instead he found this strange creature.

Had any of the other Guardians discovered her, the girl may have not been very well off. The others would most likely have interrogated her harshly on the spot – woe be to her if Volteer found her first – perhaps even attacked her outright.

But Ignitus, though wary, was a bit more kind. He could see that whatever this thing was, it didn't appear to be a threat. They were unarmed, fairly small and weak-looking, and oddly, he couldn't detect even the slightest hint of magic coming from them.

Before he could even speak, however, a small voice came from the ball.

“Please don't hurt me,” the girl whimpered. She curled up tighter, trying not to tremble, not to move at all. “I just wanna go home.” Her voice was unusual, a slight drawl catching on the edge of her words. Whatever she was, she wasn't from around here.

Ignitus looked bemused, to say the least. “I have no desire to harm you, young...” He tapered off, unsure what this creature was. “Young one.”

Hearing that she dared to look up a little, wiping off her tear-streaked face in embarrassment. She had to stop herself from yelping and hiding it again. From where she was sitting on the ground, he was massive. Seven feet tall, maybe more.

But, well, besides the fact that he was towering over her, he didn't look that scary... He had a tired but sympathetic face. And though she knew that he could crush her or turn her to ashes in a moment, nothing about him suggested that he had any intentions of doing so. So she relaxed a little.

With her face revealed, Ignitus examined her closely. He'd never seen anything quite like this before, and his first alarmed thought was that she must be some odd kind of ape.

No, something wasn't right. Though her face brought up memories of those beasts, her eyes were too large, nose too short, pinkish skin too smooth. Her body structure was all wrong too: leaner, less muscular, willowy.

Really she was more like a cheetah, but she had only pale skin and the blackish hair hanging in long locks from her head. No tail, no pointed ears, a nose all wrong. Nothing he tried to connect to her fit.

Bewildered, the old dragon asked, “What are you?”

With a sniffle, the girl collected herself and answered frankly. “I'm a human, sir, and I come from another world, I think.” She stood slowly once she was sure he wouldn't hurt her, clinging to the pillar for support as her shaky legs threatened to give way. “I want to go home,” she said again.

The red dragon found himself at a loss for what to do. The last time he had been this completely taken off guard was when he'd seen a purple blur running towards him years before.

Blinking himself out of his daze, he finally decided to take this witch of a girl back with him and consult the other Guardians. With a statement like that, what else could he do? Plus, he sensed that this child knew a lot more than she was letting on, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

“We'll see, young one,” he said patiently, starting back towards the Temple. “Where might that be?”

Chapter Text

She did know a lot more than she should, that much he figured out quickly.

First, she'd accidentally let his name slip as they were walking back to the big round room that housed the Pool of Visions, and though Ignitus wondered if he had mentioned it, he was almost certain that he had not.

Then, as soon as she had sat down next to the pool, her first question was, “Has the war ended yet?” in a tone of voice that implied that it should have, all the while looking at him like she already knew the answer... Like she had seen a ghost.

“No. Of course not.” Unnerved, Ignitus quickly said, “I will look for the other Guardians. Stay here,” and beat a hasty retreat.

The odd questions. The way she stared. And how it seemed that she already knew just who he was. It was... disconcerting. He would have to ask the others what should be done about her. Because he, for certain, hadn't the slightest idea.

Chapter Text

They had been warned, the other Guardians, what they were about to face. But that didn't stop their startled stares upon seeing her, strange beast that she was, sitting cross-legged before the Pool of Visions as if she belonged there.

Volteer launched into an immediate string of questions that would have thrown off even the most studious listener. But this girl looked almost like she was expecting it, and she answered to the best of her ability.

“Human,” she began, “from another world, well, they call it Earth, but maybe it's actually another dimension; I'm not really sure how these things work – yes, no, yes, I don't know, I just woke up here, so I can't really say – no, humans don't have – ”

Cutting in, Ignitus told the overly curious electric dragon to hold his tongue, if only for the girl's sake.

The four dragons shuffled into the room, once spacious to her but now seeming more and more cramped by the second. Cyril was the only one who looked outright hostile, but Terrador's analytical gaze, eyes watching her every movement, left her uneasy.

She glanced at Ignitus for support, but though he wasn't glowering or staring in shock, his expression was unreadable. The Guardians sat in a semicircle around her – blocking all the exits, she noticed with an amount of discomfort.

With them came their auras, each one a new flavour of apprehension. The fire had diminished somewhat, but she found herself rooted to the floor by heavy earth, encased by ice that kept her still, shocks of interest nipping at her back and keeping her sitting ramrod straight.

It seemed dragons were so powerful that they could assail her without laying a claw on her – though that scowl Cyril was giving her was nearly as potent.

“Let's start at the beginning,” Ignitus said tiredly, quieting the others. “Where did you come from? And why are you here?”

“Another world,” the girl answered. “A place called Earth. But...” She hesitated, and Ignitus saw the lie before she spoke it. “I just woke up here today. I don't know why.”

That last part, at least, was the truth.

The girl drew a breath to steady herself under the weight of their disbelieving stares. “I came here because I knew you four might be inside, and I... I hoped you could help me.” She looked up, but their faces were blank.

Her reasoning made sense. If she knew they were here, of course she would come to the Guardians for aid. But her story was still odd.

“What of this... Earth?” Cyril asked, curious despite his distrust. “And if your tale is true, how would you know anything about this world?”

Right. That didn't exactly make sense. “It's... kind of hard to explain...” She looked away. Perhaps she could have just said she was from distant lands, but it was a little late to change her story now. Though if she started rambling about video games, they'd probably think she was crazy.

So she settled on a half-truth. “In my world, there was a story about this place. I recognized the Temple, and that's how I knew.” They seemed skeptical about that, but it was the best explanation she had. “As for Earth... It was like this world in some ways, I think. But there was no magic, no elements, no spirit gems, no ancestors. And humans were the only sentient species.”

It seemed impossible, yet... Such a story was so preposterous that they almost had to believe her. A world without magic? With only a single species? Such an idea was beyond their reality – just the implications were sending Volteer on a hundred trains of thought.

And as unlikely as it seemed, how could such a small, odd creature have made the long journey to the Temple alone?

“Volteer,” Ignitus said, head turning, “what do you make of all this?”

The electric Guardian jumped as he was startled out of his ruminations. “W-well,” he stuttered, “according to my analysis, the facts I've gathered in the past, my own personal options on the subject, et cetera et cetera – ”

“Volteer, please.”

“I-I believe it's within the realm of possibility,” the dragon quickly concluded. “I've only done minimal research on astrology, planetary alignment, even Arkan's Multidimensional Theory, but theoretically speaking, there is a ch – a chance that she speaks the truth. And if the girl herself says she's not from the Realms...”

They all looked at her, but she shook her head. “This isn't my world,” she said softly, curling up and drawing her knees to her chest. “I just want to go home.”

But she wasn't so sure now if there was a home to go back to.

The Guardians all looked at each other, but when even Volteer shrugged, Ignitus spoke. “I'm afraid... We don't know how to get you there. I have no idea why you've appeared here, or how you managed to infiltrate this world in the first place.”

Everyone's gaze turned to the resident intellectual. But the gold dragon shook his head. “Should you come from another world – another dimension – even another time – either way, I haven't the slightest clue where to begin in trying to get you home, wherever or whenever that may be.”

Volteer tapped his claws on the tile, deep in thought. “Researchers have certainly theorized about the existence of other worlds, but the idea of a creature from another reality managing to visit our dimension, and what's more, how to solve this issue...” He shrugged in defeat. “Unprecedented.”

Ignitus sighed. “Then there is nothing we can do.”

Her heart sunk. So she was stuck here? Once she had dreamed of such a thing, a free escape from Earth, and she would have snatched it up selfishly at the first chance. But now...

She had to go back. She had to get out. “What can I do?”

Terrador stared at her for a moment, thinking. She'd come to them for help, for guidance at the very least, but they had no advice for her peculiar situation. So he simply settled for the truth.

“We Guardians must travel often. If we took you under our protection,” his critical green eyes scanned her, “you would only hinder us. But you are a child, and we cannot leave you to fend for yourself. There aren't very many options here.”

The girl withered under this criticism, but he was right. She was slow, weak. She knew nothing of how to survive here.

Volteer continued, “As much as I hate to admit it, if we did allow you to stay with us, your presence would need to be kept secret. I must point out that your appearance, though furless and unique, is ape-like enough to attract negative attention.”

“Which we get enough of as it is,” Cyril flatly interjected.

“...Not only might foolish, impulsive, closed-minded people attack or imprison you, the Guardians would be condemned for sheltering you.” His gold eyes radiated pity, but what else could he say?

Ignitus said nothing. Though he would have allowed her to stay under their roof despite her odd story, his companions were right. She was a burden they couldn't afford.

The girl couldn't blame them. She knew that she was no asset to the Guardians. Lost child she was, they were the guardians of dragons, not humans, and they had no obligation to protect her.

Yet... Maybe... Maybe she wasn't useless. “I can help you.” All eyes turned on her, and it was all she could do not to squirm. “I know I'm a liability that you would have to protect. I'm just a weak kid,” she looked away, “and I would probably slow you down. But...”

She hesitated. Playing with the timeline like this could ruin everything. She was messing with some of the most influential people of this era, and one small change could be the difference between winning the war or falling into ruin.

But if she wanted to survive... What else could she do?

The girl looked at Ignitus. Still alive, and no sign of Spyro. With the abandoned state of the Temple, it had to be long after the raid. So that must mean... “In my world, we were...” she swallowed, “we were told tales and legends of the great Spyro the Dragon, who brought down the Dark Master and saved the Dragon Realms.”

All of them were looking at her. An idea they'd all entertained but never dared spoken out loud. If what this girl said was true...

“And that means that I know what's going to happen next.” She braced herself, not knowing what reaction she'd get. “I know where Spyro is.”

That certainly got their attention. Ignitus was on his feet, Terrador and Cyril were gaping, the latter having utterly lost all his dignity, and Volteer had already launched into a string of questions.

“Spyro is alive?” Ignitus barked, silencing Volteer with a wave of his paw.

The girl nodded, though she found herself pressing against the wall. He'd been so calm all this time; seeing him like this was... scary. “They're sealed away at the Well of Souls. After three years, they're meant to return.”

Relief settled over the Guardians' faces and the auras ebbed, though she still felt the tight grip of ice holding her in place as they whispered between themselves.

Finally Cyril spoke up. “Why should we trust you?”

“Why would I lie, Cyril?” the girl asked indignantly, emphasizing his name, which Ignitus most certainly knew he had not provided. “Do most people even know about Spyro? How would I unless I'm telling the truth?”

He didn't have a retort, so he just glared. Whispered rumours of the purple dragon's return had flown throughout the world, but to say knowledge of him was common? Common enough for a little girl from far, far away – even if she was born of the Realms – to be able to talk about him in detail? To even know his name?

The girl stared at the ground in guilt. “I want to say that you'll win the war for sure, but... Just my existence may have thrown everything off balance. All I can say is that Spyro is alive, but beyond that...” She trailed off. “Now that I've appeared, anything could happen.”

“Nevertheless,” Ignitus said, “thank you for the information. It's a relief if nothing else.”

Looking at him, she could see that he was very tired. She knew that already of course, but there was something about seeing it in person that made it feel more real, even if she was most likely dead or in a coma. Or possibly having an acid trip. At least a small weight seemed to have lifted off him...

Silence descended as everyone processed this new intel, but the girl, fidgeting anxiously, finally had to break the question. “So...” She looked at the Guardians beseechingly. “Does this mean...?”

All four exchanged glances. Cyril's feelings were written plainly on his face, as were Volteer's – here a perfect specimen from another reality, filled to the brim with new and exciting knowledge. Terrador looked impassive, but willing. And Ignitus certainly didn't want to send a defenseless child off into the dangers of the wilderness.

Seeing their expressions, the ice Guardian turned with a huff and stormed out of the room, knowing that he'd been outvoted. “Yes,” Ignitus said with a nod. “You can stay.”

Before the girl could sail up into the clouds of triumph, Terrador's voice rooted her firmly to the ground. “At least for the time being. When it comes time to travel, if you can't keep up...”

The girl swallowed. Her old life had not granted her much physical endurance. “I understand,” she stammered, giving a small bow of her head. “Thank you for sheltering me, even if just for now.”

For now. It wasn't nothing. She'd bought herself a little more time.

Chapter Text

Though they decided to let her stay, the four Guardians weren't sure what to do with her.

With most of the living quarters having been blasted to bits – that explained why they had seemingly slept in random rooms around the Temple – they retrieved a few blankets for her so she would at least have somewhere to sleep.

The supposedly hatchling-sized blankets were far too large for her, but they were thick and padded the ground well enough that she could hardly tell she was sleeping on the floor. Her jeans didn't make for the best pajamas either, but she was comfortable and it would do. Right now she was just grateful to be alive.

So with a nice nest of blankets in the corner, the girl lay down to spend her first night away from home.

Candlelight flickered warmly from the hallway, casting a bit of illumination near her. The Pool let off its own soft green light as it hummed with low tones of magic. The girl was still a bit afraid of the dark, so the comforting sound was enough to nearly lull her into sleep...

“We can't let that thing stay with us!” The distant piercing cry plunged the girl into the cold waters of reality, and she nearly sat sat straight up. “She could be some sort of ape, or a spy!”

Cyril, of course, all the way from another room. His yelling could wake up the queen of England, and she was in another dimension.

“That 'thing',” Terrador's deep voice rumbled clear through the walls, “gave us more information in one sentence than our best scouts have in years. Information that could change the tides of the war. Human or not, we're obligated to shelter her – at least.”

Huh. Terrador was actually sticking up for her. At least he could appreciate it when someone was useful, but it was strange to find an ally in the one that had done nothing but stare in critical silence.

“Not to mention,” Ignitus' softer voice was harder to pick up, “she's just a child. If we forced her to leave, her death would be on all of our heads!”

There was a pause, a grumbling from Cyril. And Ignitus again: “...think she'll prove useful yet.”

“Well,” the icy dragon spat in a loud voice the girl was almost certain he wanted her to hear, “when Malefor attacks the Temple and we're all slaughtered as we try to defend this child, don't blame me!”

She pulled the blankets over her head, trying to block out the rising voices. This was reminding her too much of her parents.

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The first few days were quiet.

She did her best to live around the Guardians, staying out of their way as best she could. So she didn't move too much from her spot next to the Pool of Visions, still in shock from the fact that she wasn't ever going home, not anytime soon at least. That she was stuck with a bunch of dragons who only kept her around because she had played a video game once and liked the story.

Ignitus may have had kinder intentions, but if it wasn't for her information, he would not have won that battle. Cyril outright distrusted her. And Terrador may have felt guilt at abandoning a child, but in a war, you had to do what you had to do to stay alive.

In the end, he was right. The lives of four of the most skilled and experienced leaders in all of the Dragon Realms were more important than the life of some kid who couldn't even defend herself.

If it had been up to Terrador, he would have given her as many provisions as he could spare, a map, and sent her packing. It would've been the kindest and most fair thing he could have done. Cyril wouldn't even have given her that much.

Well, at least Volteer would have kept her around so he could study her.

That was mostly what her days were like. She was happy to answer Volteer's questions, even if they seemed they might never run out. She spent the rest of her time gazing into the Pool of Visions, or sometimes looking wistfully out the high-set window until anyone who saw her wondered if her spirit was even there. Or if it had just flown away, leaving her earthbound body behind.

That was what unnerved Ignitus the most. That look.

She could have been fifteen, maybe younger. She was the kind of soft, small girl that the quieter parts of her world often bred. Lanky, thin, frail. Helpless. Eyes too big, legs too long, a soft baby face. There was no way she was older than sixteen. And Ignitus could tell that even by human standards, she was young and small.

But when he saw those dark eyes that seemed like little pools of black water, stretching on for infinity, he thought that she must be immortal.

Chapter Text

This was new.

Ignitus tried not to abuse his gift of insight, but he'd always been able to see things he shouldn't have. Sometimes he couldn't help it. So much as brushing shoulders with someone would bring on a surge of stray thoughts and dreams, murky memories that could only be refined with the Pool of Visions.

But her thoughts were loud. Very loud. Standing a few feet from her, he found himself pummeled with them like ocean waves.

Often it was music he heard, of a like he hadn't before. Sometimes it was her other musings, aimless thoughts and ponderings. So unlike Volteer or Terrador, whose thoughts were always very direct, or Cyril, who... Well, was usually thinking about himself.

But that was normal. Some people were easier to hear than others.

This... This was not normal.

It wasn't just the way she stared at him. Everything: her demeanour, her gaze, the few thoughts he could catch... They hinted at something, something being held back.

It was wrong. But he was curious.

She was sitting a mere few feet away, leaning on the wall with that gaze floating out the window as the great fire dragon hunched over the pool. Opening his mind, Ignitus sank into the waters, falling into its depths. Into the vast ocean of the void.

The expanse of her mind was a quiet twilight. No sign of resistance, and he could feel her memories not far away. Whatever secrets she was hiding, they must be there. So he reached out towards them.

And he was immediately met with a wall that was thrust up before him.

Blinking, Ignitus came to himself and spied a glance at the other end of the room. Her face was blank, lost in her own thoughts. It seemed she wasn't doing that on purpose. For someone so young and seemingly naive, it was peculiarly defensive.

Back into the void he went, facing that wall. As hard as he pushed it wouldn't recede. When she complained of a headache, he stopped.

He'd met resistance before – from those far more guarded and world-weary than she. He recalled struggling for hours with Terrador's mind when he was trying to figure out where Cynder was keeping him.

But for someone like her, a person whose emotions were written clearly on her face, a child who'd had yet to experience the worst of this world... It should have been easy to break through her defenses. There shouldn't have been any defenses at all.

When she fell asleep, he tried again. This time, that wall was weaker, and it cracked under the pressure. Something less a memory than a feeling – the impression of a dark room, a silhouette against impossibly bright light – slipped through. And another wall immediately shot up before him.

Interesting.

Chapter Text

When you push hard enough, eventually, you have to break through.

He did suddenly, without warning, and went tumbling down into a scramble of memories. Only a glimpse of overwhelming emotion, a piercing scream –

DadlookOUT!

– and then he ran headlong into another wall.

Back in his own body, he tried to make sense of this tangle of emotion, but it was like trying to put together a puzzle with pieces missing. He sifted through them, but it was no use; there was no information to be gleaned in the chaos.

But he could feel something hanging over it all, the formless silhouettes and grey oceans blurring with the sky. Pain. Violence. And, overwhelming it all, fear. The terror of a cornered animal.

There was no way she could have survived a war-torn world like this one, not with the way she had cowered and cried. And yet she had memories like that.

What was the human world like if a child could suffer without war?

What few tiny spots of light he had glimpsed were so fleeting in that all-consuming darkness. So he couldn't help but wonder... Why did she want so desperately to go home?

She stopped getting headaches.

Chapter Text

Eventually, the Guardians stopped keeping a wary eye on her at all times, so she felt more free to wander.

And wander she did, up and down the halls that spiralled in endless circles, through ruins with their ceilings knocked out and pillars laying decrepit on the floor, into places once glorious now overgrown with mushrooms and weeds.

But her favourite spot was always the balcony. There, the impossible sky waited for her always. Sitting on the wall, her feet dangling above a fifty-foot drop, she wished she could be a dragon and fly away into that sky.

At night little clear stars poked through the darkness, the blues and blacks swirling together like Starry Night brought to life. In the evening the painted sky was flooded with a rainbow of colours stretching all the way to the opposite horizon. And during the day little wispy clouds floated lazily along the pale blue sky, a blue that went on forever as far as she could see.

She couldn't get enough of it. The vibrant watercolours of this world had taken time to get used to, her new face with its softened details even more strange. But she would never get tired of that sky.

It was there, perched on the wall with her feet dangling over the edge, that Ignitus found her one afternoon around a week after she had arrived. He'd already taken a step outside when she spoke.

“Your world is beautiful,” she said, the orange dying light setting her on fire as she turned back and smiled. “Even with this horrible war, it just keeps on being pretty to spite it.”

The old dragon saw that the fresh air must be doing her good. The first few days she had been tired, her eyes dull and glassy, never smiling. Despite how jarring this must be for her, she seemed a bit more relaxed now.

He didn't say anything, so she continued, fixing her eyes on the horizon again, “You must take it for granted. I know I would if I'd been born here. Back home, it was like the world was too tired for sunsets. A little bit of red and that's it, every day.”

She furrowed her brow. “I guess I'll be stuck here for a long time, so I suppose I'll have the chance to get used to it. But I swear I'll never take it for granted.”

The girl blinked and looked back. Realizing she was relaying her airy fantasies to the leader of the Guardians and one of the strongest warriors known to dragonkind, she laughed nervously. “I... I talk too much.”

For a quiet, old dragon who often said little but for a few kernels of wisdom, much like for many of the less talkative among us, it was music to his ears. Anyone who chattered on for hours and didn't require the other to hold up their end of the bargain was welcome. “I don't mind it, young one.”

Happy to hear it, she continued on as Ignitus settled down to also observe the sunset. “When I was a kid, I dreamed of this. Getting out any way I could, coming to a world like this one...” She trailed off, her smile fading. “I'm glad I had the chance to come here, but I gave up that dream a long time ago.”

Ignitus couldn't help his curiosity. “Why?”

The smile returned, slight. “I found a reason to stay. Plus, I know how it is now. I can't fight and I'm not of any use, even though I'm older. Coming to a world like this and expecting to be...” Her eyes flicked briefly to the Guardian. “...Accepted, in the middle of a war when I'm just a kid getting in the way, that would be silly.”

“Should I allow the abandonment of a child in the middle of a war, human or not,” Ignitus said dryly, picking up her implications, “I would be little better than Malefor.”

To his surprise, she laughed. “You don't owe me anything, though. And they're not wrong about me.” Her gaze turned to the ground so far below. “I want to be helpful. I want to do something.” The girl clenched her fists, a small, impossibly meaningless gesture. “But the truth is... I'm helpless.”

It was quiet for a few moments, the only sound the distant chirping of sleepy birds and the girl kicking the balcony with frustrated vigor.

But finally, Ignitus offered a bit of wisdom, as he was apt to do. “I am certain that there is a reason for your appearance at the Temple,” he said. “These things rarely happen without cause. In time, your purpose here will be revealed.”

Sighing, the girl flopped back precariously on the wall, one arm dangled dramatically over the edge. “I hope so. It's just... discouraging. I don't think you'll ever really know what this is like.” One lazy arm reached out and snapped an acorn off a nearby tree, then, staring at it for a moment, she let it slip out of her fingers. “For everyone you cared about, however few of them there were, to be gone. To wake up in a world where you're out of place. For not even the ancestors to be on your side.”

After all his years in hiding, left to wonder what had become of his companions or the state the world was in, Ignitus certainly knew of loneliness. In a war, inevitably, you will lose someone. You may even lose everything, as he'd thought not so long ago.

But that total and utter isolation... The loneliness of a person trapped in a strange and terrible world they did not belong to... He had never and would never know. And he had no wisdom to give.

Chapter Text

She was thinking about running away.

Not seriously, of course. Just toying with the idea, rolling it around in her head like she had with her sister's Playdoh, back and forth until it was a thin cylinder that crumbled in her fingers. She figured she wouldn't last a moment – would step outside the Temple and immediately be mauled by apes or frogweeds. That seemed about right.

Maybe she was fast enough. She'd always liked running, though she'd been too busy caring for her sister to join track or anything like that. Still, it counted for something. She could run straight through the forest, a parade of monsters behind her, to the lip of the ocean, and then...

And then...

Well, that was why she didn't run away.

But she couldn't help the thoughts. Why bother hanging around? She had helped the Guardians, given them information that might make up for her appearance messing with the timeline – or ruin it, but that was out of her hands.

This home was temporary. She was of no use anymore, and the Guardians only begrudgingly kept her under their wings. Why stay somewhere she wasn't wanted? Why stay when soon enough she would be left behind anyway...?

It was no use leaving now, she knew that. But she needed to be preparing for when she was left to fend for herself.

As the girl sat there ruminating darkly, huddled in her blankets, one of the doors slid open and the great electric Guardian appeared.

“Hello, young one,” he greeted, immediately jumping into a rapid-fire speech. “I saw that you were feeling tired, fatigued – simply drained, even, I might say, though a better word for this might be enervated – I think that's about right – and I noticed we still had some tea leaves in the store room; it's really quite strange, as, you may not know this because you are a human, dragons spend quite a lot of time drinking tea, but of course we haven't had a delivery in months, years, ages, since there's been so many apes about lately, hordes of them, swarms of them – ”

Becoming aware of himself, Volteer quickly ended, “So, well, uh, to get to the point, I've brought you some tea. Perhaps it may reinvigorate you, give you energy.”

Set before the girl was a cup of smooth white marble that, while far too big for her small human hands, was manageable. It was filled to the brim with a friendly-looking light-brown tea, swirling with tea leaves as steam rose off it.

Staring down at it, the girl didn't realize that she was almost crying until her vision went blurry and she had to blink back tears.

It... It was so nice. It was such a simple thing, but he had noticed her gloom and gone out of his way to make her this to cheer her up. When was the last time someone had done something nice for her?

They had been trying to get her to warm up after all. While not much could be said for icy Cyril, the others had done small things, what little they could for a human they didn't understand. Listening to her prattle on without complaint, offering smiles when she looked their way, briefly accompanying her on her walks through the Temple so she wouldn't feel alone in its vastness. It was her who had remained cold and dispirited.

“That's real nice of you...” the girl said, smiling weakly and hoping the tears in her eyes weren't showing. “You shouldn't have gone through the trouble just for me.”

“Nonsense!” Volteer exclaimed. But a moment later, all the light left his visage and seemingly the room itself as his expression turned dead serious. “I do have to ask something in exchange for this however.”

Her pounding heart sunk deep, deep into her chest. “W-what is it?”

She'd been right. There had to be a catch to even this small kindness. There was always, always a catch.

The brief lapse in merriment ended, and the girl was left staring blankly as Volteer grinned. “You must allow me to ask as many questions about humans as I want.”

The girl burst into laughter and managed to struggle the heavy cup to her lips. She could tell he hadn't put sugar in the tea, but it was vaguely sweet, with an earthy taste like sunshine.

Had she ever had time to simply relax and drink tea, have a chat with a friend, without any cares in the world? Perhaps she never had. But in this tiny moment, she found herself hoping that this was the start of something new.

Smiling, she said, “Fire at will.”

She didn't think of running away again.

Chapter Text

The day had been a slow one. In an attempt to be of some small use and relieve herself of her restlessness, the girl had woven together a fairly primitive broom of a thick branch and stiff grass, lashed together by strips of bark she had fussed with until they finally bent into a knot.

Volteer admired her ingenuity, stopping to fire off plenty of questions of where she had come up with such a thing – though its propensity for actually clearing out dust and dirt was debatable.

But the Temple had lain abandoned and untended to for years, so the attempt was somewhat helpful at least, and it was better than sitting in boredom all day. So she half-listened to Ignitus and Volteer discourse about something-or-other while she struggled with the poorly made contraption.

Presently, Terrador appeared, informing the others that he would be checking the snares and traps set up in the nearby forest. The Guardians were usually too preoccupied with tasks such as planning war strategies and sending out messages to hunt, so that was where much of their fresh meat came from.

On a whim the girl asked, “Can I come?” At the skeptical look she received, “I can keep up, I promise!”

There was a short pause as the great green dragon examined her. She figured she would receive a harsh “no” and have to go back to sweeping, but Terrador tossed her an oversized bag. She dropped the broom and fumbled but managed to catch it.

“Let's go, young one,” he said gruffly. Pleased, the girl slung the bag over her shoulder and trotted after him like a happy foal. At least she could do this much.

Though as it turned out, keeping up with even a lumbering dragon walking at an even but careless pace was no easy task, especially as he made no sympathetic move to slow as they left the Temple grounds and tramped into the heavy foliage surrounding it, the towering mushrooms soon replaced with trees that blocked out the sun.

Still, even as she stumbled through ferns and bushes that were as tall as she was, she managed to keep up the pace. Which, though he wouldn't have admitted it, at least slightly impressed (for lack of better word) the grizzled old dragon, who had expected to be slowed down considerably by this lanky little child.

But as they crossed through a less crowded patch of the woods, he realized that she was no longer tripping along behind him. He turned and found her reaching out to hand a squirrel an acorn with an amiable smile on her face.

“You said you could keep up,” Terrador boomed from across the clearing. She and the squirrel both jumped, the acorn falling out of her hand, and the rodent went scurrying away.

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, scrambling to catch up.

He observed her movements critically. Not a bit steady, he thought, wondering how such a creature had even survived this long with her flighty mind and obvious lack of physical training.

“You shouldn't be making friends with these beasts,” he said, turning back to the crude path ahead. “You could have killed it easily there. It's food.”

The girl kicked at a few rocks, feeling as though she should be embarrassed. “I've never killed anything before.”

“How old are you?”

“F-fifteen, sir,” she faltered. “I lived in a world without war.” He looked at her dubiously. “W-well, not exactly, I suppose. It was easy to pretend that it didn't exist. Some people went far away to fight, but kids like me never had to think about it.

“And we didn't even have to hunt or trap or farm for our food,” she continued as they walked along. “Other people did that, and we just went to buy it. So, uh.” She laughed weakly. “That's why I'm so useless.”

Well, that explained a few things, at least! No wonder this girl was so soft and weak, having never been exposed to such things. To him, an old veteran who had lived in constant turmoil from a young age, the thought was almost inconceivable.

A simple peace, where children were spared the horrors of war, seemed like a distant dream, a far-back memory. Something that had never been and would not be for a long, long time.

Though he wouldn't be swayed from his less than glowing opinions of this girl, useful information source or not, he felt a bit more sympathy for her at least. He would be the first to admit that the Dragon Realms were not exactly the most welcoming place for a squishy teenager who knew nothing of war, and her disorientation was understandable.

Still, though. By the time he was fifteen, he had already been well-trained in intermediate combat skills, much less something simple like hunting. Even in Warfang, the last haven from the war, children were not pampered and spared the rigor of combat training.

“You should learn,” he grimly advised. “Wherever you came from, it doesn't matter anymore. In this world, you kill or you are killed. That's the end of it.”

She stopped, staring after him, and finally said softly, “You didn't kill me.”

He looked back in surprise, and before he could speak she quickly interjected, “I-I know you're right, that it would probably be better, but... W-what I mean is, maybe...” Her eyes narrowed as she walked beside him. “Maybe I can do something useful here. Until then, I might be putting you and the other Guardians in danger, but if... If you hadn't believed me... If you had killed me...” Soberly she looked at the ground. “I wouldn't even have had a chance.”

She was quiet until they reached the first net-woven trap. Terrador grabbed the struggling creature inside and snapped its neck carelessly, tossing it at the girl. Though not expecting this, she managed to catch the fluffy corpse and gingerly shoved it into the bag.

Reflecting for a bit longer through their trek in the woods, she went on, “I know you meant more for killing out necessity, for wars.” She paused. “This is a very easy war to pick sides on. Either you're on the good or the bad side, and that's the end of it. In my world, it was different.”

She thought of Cynder, thought of the apes. Why did they fight for Malefor? Because they were born into the war, their sides chosen for them? Because they didn't know how to stop? Because there was no world for them on the other side?

“And even with this war... It's not always that black and white, I don't think. I know I haven't been here for very long,” she said, acknowledging her inexperience. “But I know the story, and I think...”

She looked up at Terrador, but he was gazing straight ahead through this idle spiel, expression unreadable. Emerald eyes glittered as they passed under patches of sparkling sunlight. “I think if you're thinking like that, like you have to keep killing no matter what, that there's no way for it to ever end, maybe that's not very different from them. Maybe you've already begun to lose hope.”

After he didn't respond to this bold statement, she mumbled, “I-I'm sorry. I think too much.”

And talk too much, too, she thought, reminded of her conversation with Ignitus. She wondered if she should stop going on like this, but with these thoughts pent up inside her with nowhere to go, they tended to come out all at once.

There had only ever been a few people who had happily accepted her odd speeches, and that thought made her flinch. At least, whatever the Guardians thought of her or her rambling, they didn't tell her to be quiet. It was a nice change.

As they walked along in silence, only stopping to empty and reset traps, Terrador was thinking. He was not so easily changed by the words of a child, but he was beginning to see what Ignitus saw in this girl, why he defended her from his and Cyril's skepticism.

Despite her age, she was perceptive. There were glimmers of wisdom in this lack of knowledge, something more beneath the surface than an ignorant kid who knew nothing of how to survive, who cared not to even learn. For all her talking, she was listening too.

And maybe, just maybe, he could give her a chance.

Chapter Text

The weeks wore on, and the girl began without question to accompany the earth Guardian on his excursions every few days. She would appear from sweeping the balcony or out of the ruins, he would toss her a bag, and wordlessly they would set off.

It quickly became routine, giving them both a bit of company and her a reason to feel useful as she pushed herself to keep up. She knew, of course, that Terrador could easily do it on his own, but it was something.

It's hard to say that a friendship developed between the two. He was a grizzled old war veteran who valued strength and determination, she an innocent teenager who often got lost in her own thoughts, and it was hard to bridge a gap quite that large.

They didn't often speak on their trips out, and if someone was talking it was the girl making her usual idle chatter. They had nothing in common. But it could be said, at least, that a sort of rough companionship developed between the two.

Terrador could see that she, despite her weakness, despite her fear, was trying, and that he could respect. So he no longer complained of her presence, even to himself.

Seeing her take that small initiative and see it through – when he looked back and saw her struggling to keep up, but not complaining once, never giving up, never losing that smile – it was enough to prove that Ignitus was right. Maybe this kid was worth keeping around.

She had the spark of determination in her eyes. That much he knew was certain. And that was a spark that could not be easily overlooked.

Chapter Text

She was a dreamer, that was for sure. The girl was hard-pressed to recall a time when she hadn't slipped into long fantasies nearly every night. There had always been a second world to escape to, a world she had often wished to stay in forever.

This was not lost on Ignitus, who often found it difficult to sleep around her. That was what perplexed him the most: she was so loud, her idle thoughts and dreams easily up for taking. But the moment he tried to push any further, he was blocked.

But there was some small insight to be had in her dreams at the very least – even if they sometimes drowned him out and kept him awake long into the night.

Occasionally, after a tiring day, she would fall into her blankets and see nothing but the swirling void of darkness. On those nights they both slept soundly. But usually, it was a pleasant dream she had:

The midday sky so infinitely overhead, ocean waves lapping at the cliff below us, face buried in her light hair, how she always smelled like sunshine and strawberries, I will keep you safe, I promise

Or:

Stars shining above, lights twinkling across the ocean, we'll run away, let's take her and go, we'll stay here forever, we'll never sleep again, let's dance 'til we die

She woke up with a bitter taste in her mouth, the dreams a faded scrap of memory in the back of her mind, feeling like she had lost something. Always remembering that she may never go home.

But eventually, these sweet memories always soured. And then came the nightmares, a bloody, twisting cacophony in her mind.

The bitter smell on his breath, the smell that meant get away, run, hide, eyes like pools of acid for once turned away, stop, screaming it, crying, but it has to end, he can't do this to anyone else, he can't do this to

you will stop you will stop you will stop

Pain screaming up her chest about to crack, a sharpness at her scalp as she's dragged into the car, faster and faster flying through the snow, he's not looking, choking on smoke, he won't ever stop, slow down, blinding, blurring lights too fast, too bright –

A crash, and in the carnage, everything stops and yet happens all at once

He's made it out, his boots stained red running away, legs can't move, blood in the snow, and there's blackness dripping down, there's a tiny light, still spitting smoke, that hasn't gone out

Fire, fire stretching up to the sky, fire sailing past the trees, and there, a soul drifting far above the wreckage below

And then, nothing

Until, waking up under the impossible sky –

Those were the nights where she woke up gasping like she'd forgotten how to breathe, bleached-white hands clinging to the blankets for dear life with her heart pounding out of her chest. Sometimes the Guardians would be talking quietly there, most of them not noticing her silent terror.

But then she would feel like she was on fire and look up to see Ignitus watching her, alarm in his moonlit eyes, along with something else – something like he didn't or couldn't understand. And she would have to pull the covers over her head until the aura died down and she could slip into dreamless sleep again.

Sometimes – because the always-busy Guardians seemed to fall asleep in random places every night, strewn about the Temple – she would wake up alone. But inevitably, footsteps would echo through the halls, and she would close her eyes but know he was checking on her.

It was then when she, knowing that he could peer into her soul, wondered if he knew of what she dreamed of. Did he understand what he was seeing? Did he know why?

She hoped not, because that was the last thing she ever wanted, for someone else to have to bear the burden of her memories. It was better for everyone if no one ever knew, if she carried the weight on her own.

And in the morning she smiled and went about her day masking her weariness. Because she had died, but at the very least – even if she had to struggle and fight, cower and hide, at least in this world she had a chance to be happy. Out of place for sure, but alive, never having to wake up afraid, never having to fall asleep in the terrifying darkness, waiting, ever again.

Her smile only faltered when she remembered the truth, that she would give up this escape in a moment to go back there. To go home.

Even though she was beginning to wonder where “home”, really, was.

Chapter Text

When Ignitus entered the training room, he found the girl sitting against the wall, around the edges where the stone had eroded and allowed wild flora to take root. Sunshine sparkled in through the skylight, dancing on her contemplative expression.

“What are you thinking, young one?” the Guardian inquired, settling down on the opposite side of the doorway. For once, her mind was quiet and blank.

She peered up at the statue, its scowling face and regal posture always looking down on her with glowing yellow eyes. “I was just thinking... You know, everyone was a child once. Even him.” She jabbed at the statue with her thumb and scrunched up her nose. “But with a look like that on his face, I'm beginning to wonder if he was ever nice.”

To her surprise, the faintest of smiles appeared on Ignitus' face. Usually her attempts at humour seemed to fly right over the Guardians' heads. But the smile soon turned to a grimace. “After everything he's caused, I would believe not.”

She considered this. “I like to think even the worst person was good at some point. Even if it was only when they were little.” Even her parents had been like that. Once. “Something bad must have happened to make him this way.”

Ignitus was wordless, and she turned to look at him in curiosity. “Did you know him, before?”

His expression clouded over. “No. This war began long, long before I was born. Nobody alive except for Malefor himself can remember a time when there was not war.”

The girl stared at him in alarm. Somehow, it had never occurred to her... That this war had been going on for so long that for many there had never been anything else, that the luxury of nonviolence she had known was something they couldn't even comprehend. Not even someone as old as Ignitus.

“Was there never peace for anyone?” she asked softly, more to herself. “Wasn't there a time when you didn't even know that this was happening?”

To him, this was the strangest of questions. “War does not wait for one to grow into it,” he said grimly. “It is always a simpler time when you're a child, but there were constant reminders. The raids, the soldiers, the people who never returned. Even more, the ones who did.”

The full realization dawned on her then. A part of her had still been thinking that she was in a video game where nothing was real, a place that had only come to exist once she'd been dropped into it.

But this world and its bloody history was as real as her own. It began long before her and it would go on after she was gone.

“This isn't a game,” she said softly. “Not anymore.” She took in her watercolour hand, the way it, an otherworldly thing, blended in perfectly here. “I'm a part of this too now, aren't I?”

Ignitus looked at her. He already knew. She was a strange, unknown creature from another world, alien and out of place. She hadn't been born here; she had just wandered in knowing nothing but a legend. But she was as much a part of this world, of this war, as he was.

The girl looked back up at the statue almost reverently, and her resolve hardened. Right then and there, sitting under the likeness of Malefor, she made up her mind.

Chapter Text

“I want to learn how to fight.”

The other Guardians, sitting round the Pool of Visions, looked up in surprise. But Ignitus had been watching her as she approached, her very being exuding determination. He'd almost already known what she was going to ask.

“Will you train me?” Normally, the expressive girl would plead earnestly or even dramatically clasp her hands. But now she stood serious and still, and Ignitus saw that she meant it.

His red eyes flicked to her meager frame. Even he could tell that she was short for a human, thin and scrawny and small. She was a child.

As had been Spyro. But even he was more athletic, his days spent outside wading through the swamp and growing strong on the forest's bounties. And he was younger besides, more malleable and quick to learn.

This girl looked as if she hadn't taken a step outdoors in her entire life, an observation not entirely inaccurate. What did she want from him?

“I could train you, yes, but I cannot work with nothing.” Ignitus sighed, wondering how to put it kindly, then decided to just be blunt. “You have no potential, young one. It would take years to bring you up to par with even a young dragon.”

Her expression fell and her lip quavered, but she took a breath and steeled herself. “I can learn.”

Ignitus regarded her critically once more, then shook his head. “This is not your path.”

He may have been the most open-minded of the Guardians, but who could possibly take on the task of making a teenage girl with no training and a complete lack of any physical skills battle-ready? Even for simple self-defense, it would be an impossible feat.

Her shoulders slumped, and he thought that she might give it up then. But the fire in her eyes reignited but a moment later. She went away, carrying herself even higher than when she came in.

Ignitus exchanged glances with the others and shrugged helplessly, as if to ask, What can I do? But they only shrugged in return, and Terrador looked like he was thinking.

A day passed uneventfully, and the fire dragon was beginning to think that she was going to drop it despite her clear resolve. But soon enough she was standing before him again.

“I want to learn how to fight.”

This time, he sighed in exasperation. “I've only had experience training dragons,” he said pointedly. “You haven't a bit of magic inside you, nor could I teach you the same physical methods of fighting that I could a dragon. I wouldn't even begin to know what to do with you.”

She didn't argue. Again she went away, but this time with a bit less vigor, the wound to her pride visible in her stiffened back.

The next day:

“I want to learn how to fight.”

Ignitus just stared at her, and she deflated, kicking at the ground. “I don't want to feel like I'm helpless anymore.” The determination, forever unwavering, lit up in her eyes again. “I'm never going home. This is myworld now, and... and I have to fight for it.”

Those words came from a stronger spirit, and it gave him pause. The wearied Guardian looked around for support from his companions, but he found none. Cyril feigned disinterest, but even he was curious; Volteer looked encouraging, as captivated with the human as he was; and in Terrador's eyes there was a firm resolve: Do it.

Helplessly, Ignitus threw up a paw. He saw immediately the change in the girl: All her resolution melted into excitement that set her dark eyes dancing. “Okay... Okay. I will train you, young one. Come to the training room first thing tomorrow.”

With that, he stood and left the room before the girl could explode like a firework, seeking solace on the balcony.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

As she walked into the training room and saw that familiar scene, Ignitus standing near the doorway and the grand statue of Malefor rumbling into the ground, she had to smother her elation and remind herself why she was doing this: Because this was not a video game. Real people were suffering here, and she could not leech off the Guardian's kindness any longer.

Even if it made no difference, even if she never got into a real battle, she would learn to fight back. It was the smallest thing she could do, the slightest gesture of respect for the people of this world she had haplessly stumbled into.

With a final quake, the ground closed up around the effigy, a sight that amazed her even more in person as the floor thundered under her feet. Did humans possess this sort of mechanical prowess?

Ignitus wasted no time. “First, we're going to see if you've any aptitude. Stand in the center.”

The girl ran to the empty ring where the statue once stood, skidding to a stop and bouncing on her feet. It was her first day of training and she was pumped. She could do anything! She could defeat the whole of Malefor's army, the Dark Master himself!

She has energy, if nothing else, Ignitus cynically noted. With a flick of his paw, he summoned a small, stationary dummy before her. She yelped and stumbled back in surprise, but the dragon was unfazed by her overreaction. “Hit this dummy as hard as you can.”

“As hard as I can?” The girl looked at the cloth ape with its beady stitched eyes, then down at her hand. It curled into a small fist.

Terrador entered the room just in time to see the girl, screaming, rush at the dummy with all the strength in her body... Then fall backwards to the ground as the impact of her fist didn't even cause the thing to flinch. Suddenly coming on with a headache, he left immediately, wondering why he had encouraged Ignitus to train this slip of a girl.

But the fire dragon was not exactly surprised. He knew what he was getting himself into, and he'd committed to it. He could not expect her to have Spyro's natural skill, but perhaps there was something in there that could be refined. So he said shortly, “Again.”

Chapter Text

“500 a day?”

“Starting now. Plus our training sessions. If you want to get any stronger,” Ignitus said, “you need to practice as often as possible. Just my guidance will not be enough.”

The girl, already exhausted just from her first day of training, groaned and rolled onto her back in the straw needles and hay that littered the floor. She had not signed up for this.

“If you cannot do it,” Ignitus said matter-of-factly, hiding a small smirk, “I will allow you to stop training any time you wish, and I will not think of you any worse for it.”

She glared at him from the ground, knowing that he had done this on purpose. The wound to her pride would be too much.

“Begin immediately,” the Guardian said, seeing that she was still in the fight – for now. “Work on finding your center. Even the strongest warrior will fall if he cannot find balance within himself.”

He left her there, her cries of “One! Two! Three!” following him out.

Chapter Text

Her once idle life was now consumed by learning and repetition. Mornings were spent training with Ignitus, evenings on the exercises he assigned. She sparred with a live dummy, ran circles round the Temple, pounded a lifeless ape effigy until she couldn't feel her arms.

Then she would collapse in her bed and slip into dreamless sleep – and moments later, it would all begin again.

It wasn't easy. But she always picked herself up and kept trying. It was all she could do.

On a warm, pretty day in the first whispers of autumn, Ignitus led her down a side road and into a forest half tree and half mushroom. She peered around the wide clearing, wondering why he had brought her here to train. A path was stamped out next to the Silver River, a wide and perfect circle that led through a thicket of trees, up a hill, and back down through the meadow.

“You need to improve your strength,” Ignitus said. “I want you to run through this path until I tell you to stop.”

The kindly old dragon who listened to her prattling disappeared this time every day. During training, he was all business. Then, she saw flickers of the general he had once been.

“That's all?” the girl asked.

Ignitus picked up something hidden in the grass and unceremoniously tossed her a stick tied with a heavy sack on each end. ”Whoa!” she cried as she went down with it, struggling to pull the contraption up. “What's in these things, rocks?”

“Close. Spirit gems.” He watched the girl pull one out, a green one for energy, but she only stared at it. “This will help you both develop strength and find balance.”

“Aren't these s'posed to be filled with magic?” She shook the spirit gem, squeezed it in her fist. “I don't feel anything.”

“No time for questions,” Ignitus said sharply. “Go.”

Struggling to lift the pole, she finally managed to get it on her back, holding it with both hands. She toppled before she could even reach the path, but managed to right herself. The girl set off, tilting and wobbling all the while under Ignitus' critical eye.

After a few laps around the circle, she was running straight with only a slight quaver to her step. Though she still fell sideways or backwards occasionally, she was beginning to get the hang of it. The exercise was doing wonders, it seemed.

But something always had to go wrong. And vengeance was swiftly wreaked for the spot of good luck the girl had found.

She crested the hill again easily, reaching the top in moments. But as she made her way down, she stumbled on a twig and immediately went hurtling for the ground. The girl cried out as she landed on her outstretched hands, rolling roughly down the hill until she reached the bottom. Dazed, she lay there.

Ignitus started towards her, prepared to call off training to bring the injured child back to the Temple for treatment. But before he could take more than a few steps, she sat straight up, grabbed the pole with a wince, and continued on her merry way.

As she passed by, face set, Ignitus saw that her hands were bleeding.

Chapter Text

Scars. He'd been eyeing them for a few minutes now, the sleeves of her plain black shirt pushed up as she tried to treat herself. She'd always kept her arms covered, never rolling up her sleeves even on the hottest of days.

They weren't normal. Not the whips and burns a life of Dark Army servitude would have left on her, or even the typical slashes and other wounds the path of a warrior often brings.

These were small cuts, shallow, not meant to kill. Odd dark circles, like the tip of a tiny flame had been pressed into her skin. Bruises, faded now, discolouring pale skin.

In a world without war... What could cause these strange scars?

The girl didn't notice his scrutiny. Whimpering in pain, she bit her cheek to steel herself and dipped her wounded hands into the bowl of water set before her. Soon the clear blue was saturated a scummy red-brown. She winced, but the pain soon turned to relief as she scrubbed the last bits of dried blood and dirt away.

Digging through a bag of medical supplies, Ignitus handed her a salve. The girl had no idea what herbs were used in this concoction, but she spread the cooling pasty substance over her cuts and started to wrap gauze around her first injured hand. It stung like hell, especially where the blisters were beginning to form, but she was starting to feel a little better.

Ignitus studied the girl as he cut out a second length of bandage for her. “You have nothing to prove, young one,” he said softly.

She stopped, the gauze in her teeth as she struggled to tighten it with only one available hand. Looking away, she set to work on the other one. “Maybe not to you,” she finally said. “But I still have a lot to prove to myself.”

Perseverance, Ignitus thought. That must be what was inside her soul. From the very beginning, she had always taken one step after another. Wherever the road carried her didn't matter as long as she kept on forward. As soon as she had given up, all hope lost, she was back on her feet again.

He'd mistaken this for stubbornness, an obstinacy that would only get her in trouble. Perhaps, in some ways, it may have been. But it was something far more than that.

Blinking out of his thoughts, he examined her closer. Her skin was splotchily flushed, a discoloured red. “What's wrong with your face? Are you sick?”

Confused, the girl touched her cheek and looked down into the dirty bowl of water. Her reflection was red, but it wasn't blood she was seeing.

The next day, as the pain of sunburn set in and left her rolling around in bed with the covers pulled over to block out even the most innocent ray of sunlight, Ignitus decided to retire that method of training for now...

Chapter Text

The first breakthrough came a few weeks into training.

Seeing that there was little progress to be made in offensive skill until she got stronger on her own, Ignitus moved the girl onto defense. Her days were spent attempting and usually failing at dodging blows from the dummies, her nights on growing stronger with every thrown punch.

Though her frame was still slender, it was becoming less soft and pudgy. Her movements were more fluid now, and where she had once run out of endurance after only a few swings, every day she could take just a few more before needing to rest.

But today she was getting nowhere. No matter what she did, no matter where she turned, the dummy's soft weapons still clipped her... If they didn't hit her right in her chest and send her flying.

Ignitus sighed as she attempted to step out of the way of a swipe and was left with a sore chin. “Had that been a real weapon,” he said in exasperation, “you would no longer have a head.”

“I'm trying.” The girl sank to her knees to catch her breath. The dummy froze where it was, one arm outstretched to assail her. “How am I supposed to know when they're about to hit me?”

Ignitus thought for a moment. Instinct and raw experience had always guided his actions in war. But this girl didn't seem to have a scrap of either of those. How did you explain something like this?

Finally, he settled on something tangible. “Watch their movements, searching for the tell of an impending attack. You're only noticing once they've already moved to strike. The moment you see your enemy tensing, you must react.”

Well, it was real advice at least. The girl stood and turned to face the dummy confidently but carefully. It came back to life and immediately turned on her.

The dummy didn't exactly have muscles or an expression to gauge. But she watched as it began to pull back its arm, registering the direction of its next attack: a horizontal slash. The girl simply stepped back, and the crude weapon whipped by her stomach.

There! That was the trick to it, wasn't it? A grin slowly crept up her face and she exchanged glances with Ignitus. His tired expression had turned to one of interest.

The dummy came in with a high attack, aiming at her head, but she saw it coming and ducked under the weapon. A vertical swipe next; she jumped sideways and was already ducking as he went for her head again.

She still got hit plenty of times, of course. “Balance!” Ignitus had to keep reminding her, but instead of crumpling onto the ground when she was thrown backwards, she now was able to steady herself and skid over the floor, staggering but remaining on her feet.

After that, the fire Guardian's doubt vanished. He came to training every day not wearied, but invigorated. It was a slow process, but she was catching on. Maybe she would have a chance yet.

Chapter Text

Along with her physical strength, the girl's demeanour rapidly changed as well. Oh, she was talkative, any of the Guardians could testify to that. But that nature had been buried under layers of shyness and fear.

Now she was more chatty, more confident, holding her head high. It was a simple thing, learning how to fight back – even if she wasn't very good at it – but it had boosted her spirits. She finally felt useful. Finally in control.

And even Cyril, who often observed her training and loudly complained whenever her swings fell short or a weapon clipped her side, had to stop his grumbling. She was no longer dead weight they would have to protect.

Even so, he was immune to her sincerity. The other Guardians had long since accepted her, but the ice dragon kept a careful eye open whenever she was around. As harmless as she really was against a quartet of highly-trained dragons that were much bigger and stronger, he still expected the girl to draw her sword and launch an attack from within at any moment.

This troubled her. She knew that Cyril's wariness was justified and she understood why he didn't trust her, but her small overtures of kindness were always met with an icy stare.

She was glad for the acceptance she had miraculously been given – the Guardians allowed her to simply exist with them, which was more than she could say in her last life. They had offered their protection in exchange for information, and even after that, Ignitus had trained her – because she had asked, not because he had to.

All of it was much more than she'd ever thought would happen. Taking her first steps into the Temple months ago, what she'd really expected was to end up dead. Sent on her way with a few supplies at best.

Or, had she been allowed to stay, remained timid and distant, only sticking around because she wouldn't survive without them.

Instead, she ended up with something like a family, odd fellowship as it was. She was a strange addition for sure, but for once, she felt almost like she belonged.

Suddenly, she realized what Spyro must have experienced, an outsider living amongst people so very different from himself. The odd one out. And yet, despite that, he had found a family in those dragonflies. He'd found a home.

“And a more oddly-matched, yet compatible pair of brothers the world has never seen,” Ignitus had said. She understood how that felt now.

But Cyril was a part of that too, but he didn't trust her. She wished he knew that she would never intentionally put the Guardians in danger for anything, not even for the chance to go home – wasn't that what she was training for? So she could hold her own and not be such a liability?

She had to make him understand.

So one day when the Guardian of ice was strolling down the long Temple halls headed who-knows-where, she caught up with him, intending to patch things up once and for all.

And yet upon being met with his dismissive stare, she lost every bit of her nerve. With Cyril on edge the moment he became aware of her presence, his icy aura nipping at the fire she'd held inside her, that determination was melting.

Even so, she managed to choke something out. “Listen, um... I know we're not exactly on the best of terms, but I just wanted to say – I mean, I wanted you to know...”

She'd forgotten everything she'd rehearsed in her head, and on seeing his withering look she knew she had better get to the point fast. “I know you don't like me... Obviously. And I get it. I'm an... intruder. I've gone and messed things up.” Discouraged by her own words, she fell back against the wall, blowing a strand of brown hair out of her face.

It was amazing how much he could communicate without even speaking, as now he was gazing at her with a look that said, “I should say so.”

But he was listening at least, so she continued on. “If you don't like me because of that, that's fine. But I don't want to be on bad terms with any of you. I've been learning how to fight so I'll be able to defend myself, and I just wanted you to know...”

And the fire rushed suddenly back into her eyes, burning with an intensity unfitting of her small stature. “I might be stuck here, and I might need your help, but I will do everything in my power to not be a helpless burden. So, no matter what happens to me, you four will live on.”

Even this conviction left him gazing on her with distrust, but at least it was better than pure, unfiltered scorn. The flames dimmed a bit, but she held them in her heart as she made her request. “So I thought, maybe...” She gave a small, hopeful smile. “Maybe we could be friends?”

Cyril stared is amazement. It baffled him; he'd shown her nothing but resentment, and to her credit she'd done her best to ignore his quips, and yet here she stood asking for his friendship. What unholy trick was this?

Seeing his astonished expression – but not angry at least – the girl quickly scrambled to find some common ground. “I-I've heard you have a long and important lineage. I think that's real interesting, I mean it. Maybe you can tell me about it sometime?”

That did it in. Cyril was a prideful old dragon and he held fast to his grudges and convictions, but he would have boasted about his family line to Malefor himself.

“Hmm.” Cyril turned on her with a disapproving eye. “I took you to be the quiet sort, but the way you chatter on, it's no wonder you and Volteer get along so well!”

The girl blushed, flustered, but the ice dragon spoke up before she could even think of a response. “I suppose it will do no harm if I do the talking, for once. It all began long ago, with a distinguished dragon by the name of Dante, who spent most of his early years...”

That night, the other Guardians were shocked when they walked in only to find the reserved old ice dragon chatting gaily away to the human he'd so resented.

Of course, upon hearing the subject matter, they quickly backed themselves out again. But they noted with surprise the rapturous look on the human's face. As if she wouldn't rather be anywhere else in the world.

Chapter Text

Today had not been a productive day for training. The summer had long reached its crest and begun its slow crawl towards fall, but the sunlight twinkling in through the skylight was hot and oppressive.

Ignitus had the girl on attack training again, but her swings, when they managed to strike, were as weak as ever. The heat certainly wasn't helping.

Tired and frustrated, her poor attempts finally left her slumped on the ground. “This is useless!” she cried. “When are you going to give me a real weapon? I know you have swords around here!”

“Patience!” the fire Guardian said tiredly. “A sword is an extension of your being. If you're weak already, it will be no more than a crutch. Besides, I know very little of their technique.”

The Temple was stocked with a variety of weapons, as soldiers of all kinds used to pass through here. But with the Guardians focused on training dragons, such tools were never a part of their regiment. When the girl picked up a sword, she would have to learn alone.

Still she complained, but Ignitus wouldn't be swayed. So she trained away, slowly improving as the weeks sailed by. And eventually, she did get her sword.

Ignitus presented it to her with an unusual solemnity even for him, and she took it with equal respect. The black leather sheath was faintly smudged with dust, but as she drew the blade, the gleaming silver steel caught her breath in her throat.

As she turned it about in awe, examining the gold and blue trimmings on the hilt and the intricate designs carved painstakingly into it, she noticed something interesting about its make. It had a sort of rough feel about it, as if it was honed by paws not quite as swift and dexterous as a mole's, but much stronger.

“This was made by a dragon,” she observed, voice soft in reverence. Ignitus nodded.

Lifting it again, she caught sight of symbols carved into the blade itself. They reminded her of the runes scattered throughout the Temple. Dragon language. “What does it say?”

“It's half an old saying,” he answered. “'Never stop fighting'.”

The girl traced a finger down the runes. Only half... “Never stop fighting... for what?” she guessed.

“For hope.”

Falling silent, she gazed down at the sword. Back in her old life on Earth, she never could have accepted this. But here, in this world, she'd vowed to fight back. And she couldn't help the smile that crept up her face. “I think you gave this to the perfect person.”

The old dragon watched her for a moment, head tilted. “Well, are you ready?”

At her nod of confirmation, the girl dashed into the ring with renewed energy and a new light in her eyes. Whatever world she went to, she could find a hope to fight for.

Chapter Text

When Terrador entered the training room, the girl was alone with a dummy Ignitus had left active for her. Her shouts echoed through the room as she swung and dodged, and she was so engrossed that she didn't even notice the big green dragon watching her critically – that is, until the dummy finally landed a hit that sent her to the ground.

Whatever magic the Guardians used to control these dummies, the girl didn't know how it worked, so she was surprised when the creature fell suddenly still. Terrador's voice rumbled across the room, startling her. “You need to work on your stance, young one.”

He ambled over, standing next to her as she dropped into a fighting stance at his gesture. “With a weak stance, you can easily be knocked over.”

To demonstrate his point, a green paw shot out and struck her in the shoulder, sending her rolling. When she finally came to a stop and managed to dazedly sit up, she blushed. “Well of course you can do that!”

Terrador shook his head. “An enemy with a solid stance is a much more daunting opponent. They cannot be knocked over as simply, even by the strongest warrior. Try it.”

Not so easily defeated, the frazzled teenager stood up and stomped back over, this time assuming a wider, heavier position and steeling herself as Terrador went after her again.

The strong blow sent pain shooting through her already-sore shoulder, but though she stumbled back, she just struggled to catch herself and managed to stay on her feet.

“Hey... It really worked!” Beaming, she playfully faced the Guardian, taking up her new stance. “C'mon, spar with me!”

The small smile this elicited was hidden from her as he turned away. “I have other duties to attend to. Perhaps another time.”

But as he began to leave the room, he paused before the door. “I admire your determination, young one,” he said, voice even. “But in a real battle, you will most likely fail. Do not be reckless. You're not a warrior.”

This blunt reminder was a solid blow to her spirits, and she found herself slumping down. She knew that, of course she did. Every tiny achievement had been a grueling endeavour, a product of days or weeks of sweat and usually blood. Ignitus had been at his wits' end with her.

But only a moment later, she straightened with renewed vigor. “You were going to give me a chance, right?” She grinned, dramatically pointing her sword at him. “Well, just wait! I might never be as good as you, but I'm going to do my best!”

Emerald eyes studied her, though their cynicism had faded somewhat. This kid was really something.

The carved wood slid shut behind him as he left her there to train, a snap of his claws just as the door closed bringing the dummy back to life. As her shriek of surprise pierced even the heavy stone walls, he shook his head. He had no one to hide his smile from this time.

This girl had come here from out of nowhere, seemingly falling from the sky on top of them. She'd disrupted everything: their peaceful stay here, everything they thought they knew about this world. This Temple, and even the Guardians themselves, would never be the same.

And yet, he was almost glad she had come.

Chapter Text

“We're travelling to Warfang in one week.”

The girl's gaze shot up from the Pool of Visions, landing on Ignitus who stood across from her. She'd been gazing idly into the viridian waters, taking a moment to rest her sore limbs, but for a moment the pain was forgotten.

“Warfang? The Dragon City?” She gaped at him. “What about me?”

The Guardian smiled. “You're coming with us, of course. It's not as if we'll just leave you here.”

That relieved one tiny knot of anxiety in her, at least. A part of her had never stopped being afraid that they would leave her alone to fend for herself.

“But what about... the way I look? Volteer said it could cause problems...” As thrilled as she was to see the city of legends, the last thing she wanted was to endanger the Guardians.

Ignitus tossed her a few pieces of cloth she hadn't realized he'd been holding. A folded-up blue robe befitting a young cheetah, a pair of thin gloves, and a square of black fabric.

“Soldiers and travellers of all species used to pass through here,” he explained. “So we've always kept extra supplies, though those times are long gone.”

The girl beamed and hugged the soft, silky material to her chest. Her old clothing was getting worn out at this point, the plain black shirt tattered and torn from abuse and even her jeans starting to wear. She was more than due for a new outfit.

She ran off to change and came back in feeling like a new person. The cool layers of rich, dark blue cloth slipped unhindered and soft over her skin. Her robe was a tad too long, but it better covered the sneakers that would be perceived as strange.

It was simple in make, that much she could tell. But the pleasant, velvety fabric and shiny silver woven in as trimming left her feeling like royalty.

Bits of skin poked out despite the flowing length, but the gloves helped cover that. Realizing the purpose for the stray piece of cloth, she tied it around her face like a bandanna, pulled the hood over her head, and peered down at her reflection.

With her hair and face covered, her indistinct form could easily pass for a cheetah. The only oddity was how heavily she was covering herself, but that couldn't really be helped.

Looking over her, Ignitus nodded approvingly. “As long as you keep your distance, you will look like nothing more than a young cheetah.”

The girl's smile was hidden under black cloth. “You really think so?”

She gazed at her reflection again, turning this way and that. In the Dragon City, masquerading as a cheetah... She might have the chance to feel almost normal. Like just another kid born into this world.

“So,” she turned to the fire Guardian, “how do cheetahs act? How would I pass as one?”

Ignitus thought about it. “Well, cheetahs often say little, but when they do speak, it's with eloquence and formality. When saying goodbye, they bow like this...”

Chapter Text

The fire came so quick it almost didn't hurt. But she could feel her skin burning, her body evaporating. Her blazing eyes open were flooded with light. Tears in her eyes that would never break.

Only an instant, then nothing. A sinking darkness that never ended. An eternity with no way home.

Breath had left her. She was drowning.

When her eyes flew open they found moonlight; her lungs again drew air. She couldn't get enough of it; her shaking hands clutch the blankets to her chest with a grip so tight her fingers go numb.

She can't look anymore. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rolled over and pressed her face into the makeshift blanket-pillow. The images are burned into her memory, but she can't seem to focus on them. They danced out of sight whenever she tried.

Night terrors. They'd mostly stopped after she started training; her exhausted rest was usually dreamless. She'd forgotten it, the sinking feeling in her chest that had plagued her every night, but now she remembered all too well.

She lay there for a while, waiting for the familiar sound of claws clicking on the tiled floor, of a door sliding quietly open and a comforting warm aura cradling her back to sleep. But tonight, Ignitus didn't come.

Ever since the nightmares and even the vivid, memory-like dreams had gone away, he was probably sleeping soundly every night. Those first few weeks must have been fitful for them both. And now she was alone.

Feeling uneasy, the girl sat up. Windows set high into the wall allowed a bit of light in, and the Pool of Visions emanated green luminescence, but they did little to touch the cloak of darkness. The atmosphere was crushing, and she quickly stood up, deciding to see if perhaps it was a little brighter outside.

A bit of fresh air might do her good anyway...

Pulling the sword belt over her shoulder, the girl set out, her sneakers soft from years of use barely making a sound on the floor.

In a familiar scene, the girl found Volteer and Ignitus curled up in one of the empty rooms near the main exit. There was no way out except past them, so she crept forward as slowly and quietly as she could.

Though her heart was pounding so loud she was afraid that it might wake them, she managed to make her way through the maze of outstretched limbs without stepping on anyone's tail. Glancing back as she reached the exit, she turned as the door slid shut behind her – and found herself on the ground, reeling after running into something hard.

“And where do you think you're going?”

The girl squinted up at the shadow looming over her. “Cyril?” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping an eye on you, of course,” the ice dragon answered. “Skulking around at all hours of the night, well, who knows what you could be planning!”

At this cold statement she stared at him in alarm, but the joking glint in his eyes relaxed her. Cyril was... Well, he was Cyril. His reserved nature wasn't bound to change. But lately, he'd been a lot more... nice to her.

The girl gladly took his outstretched paw, pulling herself to her feet. Stretching and rubbing the sore arm that had taken much of the blow, she cheerfully asked, “Do you sneak out to go for midnight walks often?”

“What? Of course not,” Cyril disdainfully replied. “And even if I did, I wouldn't be sneaking anywhere.”

“Well, since you're already out here,” she said pleasantly, ignoring his tone, “we may as well go together.”

The old ice dragon grumbled, but he still followed her out into the cool darkness outside. The early autumn night felt a lot more like winter, and the girl breathed in the crisp air gladly. She never really managed to get used to it: the musty heaviness of the Temple's atmosphere, the lingering feeling of ghosts who had once walked the halls.

But the paths around the Temple were peaceful, if perhaps a bit unsettling when alone at night. Cyril was familiar with these winding roads that slipped in and out of the forest, so he took the lead of their uphill climb as they walked in comfortable silence.

The girl was happy to have a companion for once. As beautiful as the forest was at night, she didn't like to come out here alone. Cyril was somewhat glad for the change of pace too, though he wouldn't have admitted it if it would have won the war.

They stopped on a cliff overlooking the area, and the girl sat down to rest near the edge, watching the final few fireflies of the season make their last dance. When they returned to the earth, the Temple would lie empty again.

“I'll miss this place.” Though the dusty old halls were long and lonely, and the ominous ruined undercrypt of the Temple frightening, it had become a home to her. More home than anywhere else she knew.

The reply from behind her was immediate and short. “I see little point in ruminating on the past. So I will not worry about whether I miss it here or not.”

The girl turned her gaze to the ground, watching the grass far below wave gently in the breeze. “Sometimes the past is all you got.” He was sitting near the tree-line behind her, watching her with narrowed pale blue eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

Despite the frown on his face, he nodded silently. So she looked ahead again. “Do you have nightmares too?”

It was quiet, the only sound the distant chirping of insects. She heard him shift in the grass, and she thought he might ignore her. But eventually he spoke, his voice holding a much softer tone than usual. “Sometimes.”

Cyril talked about himself so often that, well, no one ever really asked. She was the first person who had bothered, and suddenly he found it hard to speak when it usually came so naturally.

“This is going to sound weird,” she said with a slight laugh. “But I'm glad.” She lifted her head; the moons peeked out behind the Temple, watching safely over them. “I know we're both really different. Me and everyone else in this world. But I'm glad I'm not alone.”

And Cyril... For all the front he put up, the nightmares had been his one weakness, the one thing he hid under layers of pride. He'd always alienated himself, put himself above even his lifelong friends, so he was used to being alone.

But he knew he was being honest with himself for the first time in forever when he said, if only in his heart, that he was glad too.

Chapter Text

“You've advanced much in your training these past few months, and there's very little I have left to teach you. I will always be here for guidance, but from now on, anything you learn you must do so on your own.”

The midday sun sent sparkling rays of light through the glass above, dust particles dancing through the air. The girl was already glowing with pride, but the beams of light seemed to truly set her on fire.

They stood across from each other within the training circle, one gravely serious, the other barely able to contain her excitement. A strange duality bridged by their unlikely friendship.

“I only have one more challenge for you.” As he spoke, Ignitus was studying her reaction.

The girl grinned, stretching. “One last sparring match for the road?”

“Not quite.” The old dragon straightened, and the girl couldn't help but notice how he towered over her. “I want you to fight me. As if your life depended on it. If you can land one hit on me, you will have passed all the tests I can offer.”

The girl's easy smile slid off her face. “Wouldn't I...” She hesitated. “Hurt you? If I fought you for real?”

Ignitus tilted his head. “You think you could kill me?”

“N-no!” the child stuttered, throwing her arms up. “It's just, I... I don't know if I'm ready!”

“Well,” Ignitus stepped forward, a glint in his eyes the girl had never seen before, “it's time you find out.”

She realized that he was serious when a fireball whizzed past her.

She stared at him in disbelief, but there was no time the process her shock. The dragon dashed forward and sent her running for cover, his claws flying by her face just a bit too close for comfort.

They had sparred before, but it was always slow and methodical, more focused on footwork and technique than an actual fight. This... This was the real deal. He was definitely going easy on her (she'd probably be dead by now otherwise), but if she wasn't careful, she might end up with a nasty burn scar.

Drawing her sword with unsteady hands, she hopped out of the way of another fireball, just barely managing to catch her balance as her foot slipped.

“Good, good,” the fire dragon commented, stalking closer. “Agility is of no use if you can't stay on your feet.”

Heat blazed towards her and she had to hit the ground, rolling back onto her feet in moments. “Easy for you to say!”

Her only reply was another wave of fireballs that sent her running for her life.

Just then, Volteer walked in to see what the commotion was about, only to be met with the sight of the small, timid girl trying to deck it out with a dragon three times her size and failing miserably.

“What in the world...?”

The girl ran past the little alcove in the wall. “Oh! Hey, Volteer!” she called with unusual cheerfulness, weaving through a volley of fireballs and trying to find a moment to catch her breath.

“By the ancestors, what are you two doing?” the electric Guardian asked incredulously.

“Me? I'm just warming up!” The girl's laugh was cut short by a particularly fast wave of fire that barely missed her, breathed by a rather offended-looking dragon.

Word got around, and soon all three Guardians sat on the sidelines watching the fight, none of them sure who to root for.

To her credit, the girl put on a good show and was even starting to enjoy herself, ducking and weaving and somersaulting about. But any time she tried to find an opening in his defense, she was met with a wall of flame that forced her to put distance between them again. Even when she managed to push past this, he effortlessly dodged her swings and usually punished her for daring to get close.

At every free moment she could scrounge up, she analyzed him, desperately searching for his weakness. She could feel his aura ebbing and flowing around her, weakening after a burst of flames, surging back up as he gathered his magic. But it was dimming. He was using up his energy too quickly for it to regenerate.

And it wasn't just that. He was getting old, natural aging and stress taking their toll on his physical skill. If she could be patient, her youth might beat his experience.

Ignitus knew the end was coming. This girl was an open book even before the mind-reading came into play, and he could see the moment she realized the solution was mere patience. She would whittle him down eventually, but he was determined to put up a good fight until then.

The girl was wearing down herself, but every time she thought about conceding, her eyes were drawn to her sword. He heard her chanting it in her head: Never stop fighting, never stop fighting.

The end came swiftly. A wave of flames, and his aura faded. Ignitus was fully expecting her next move, so he prepared to retaliate as she rushed forward. And then she did something he didn't expect.

Her thrown blade sailed through the air, forcing the Guardian to stumble back. The girl smirked to herself, recalling all the times he had chastised her for her lack of balance, and was on him before he realized what was happening.

One punch to the neck, causing him to recoil and lose his balance even more, a few more well-placed blows, and a final shove. The great beast fell, and she had won.

Volteer, Cyril, and Terrador gaped. Ignitus had been a teacher when he was just a young Guardian, long ago before the war began to worsen... And very few of his students had ever managed to best him so in a fight. To entirely knock him over...

Ignitus blinked on the ground. After the quick progress this girl had made, from a scared child to a skilled fighter, he had expected her to beat his challenge. But that he had not seen coming. She still had a lot to learn, but even her more unorthodox methods displayed ingenuity and wisdom.

Coming to, he found her crouched before him with her hand outstretched. A gesture of good will that transcended worlds. He took her hand, allowing her to help him to his feet.

Ignitus was reminded of when she had first come here, a small, scared child, and he had towered over her, looking down on the curious stranger. How things had changed.

Now she was beaming, practically dancing as she ran to retrieve her sword. The Guardian considered scolding her for being so careless with a hand-crafted weapon in a fake fight, but there wasn't a scratch on it. As was the nature of dragon-forged weapons.

“So...” the girl began, tagging behind the aching dragon as he gradually made his way towards the exit, “does this make me the master now?”

“Not quite yet,” Ignitus answered tiredly, knowing he'd never hear the end of this. From her or the other Guardians...

As he neared the door where his friends were still sitting in astonishment, Cyril piped up. “Well, my friend, I never thought I'd see the day you were defeated by a little girl.”

“Hey!” The aforementioned little girl popped out from behind Ignitus, glaring at him. “If you keep that up, you're next!”

“Oh, I'd like to see you try.”

“Right here, right now, Iceberg!”

“What did you just call me, human?!”

Their bickering continued as Ignitus dropped heavily down by the Pool of Visions, and he soon tuned it out, beginning his nightly routine of pondering over it. But he couldn't help smiling to himself.

A month or two ago, he had done little but worry over Spyro and Cynder. But this girl's spirit, her perseverance, it reminded him of that little purple dragon who had reignited his hope.

Someday the other Guardians would say that his faith in Spyro's return never faltered, but that wasn't true. After the Night of Eternal Darkness, when the Well of Souls fell and Spyro didn't come back, he'd been afraid more than anything that the world's saviour was dead. Truly, it had never left him.

But for all her fears and faults, this girl felt to him like an echo of Spyro. And it reminded him that he could not lose hope. If she could refuse to give up, then he would not either.

Chapter Text

Sunset fell on the world the night before their journey to Warfang, and the girl, as usual, was watching the ever-changing sky as it began to drain towards the horizon.

Ignitus could always without fault find her on the balcony as the day began to turn. He'd spent many days past and present watching the sunset from here as well, and with both of them being introspective sort of people, they often spent this time together.

But today the girl was pensive, her brows drawn together as she stared upwards with unseeing eyes. She was usually fairly quiet while sky-gazing, but her cheerfulness radiated off her almost like a dragon's aura. Now she barely even shifted to acknowledge his presence as he prepared to settle down on the other side of the balcony.

Ignitus glanced over, pausing behind her. If this eternally optimistic creature was down, there must be a serious problem. “Something on your mind, young one?”

Her eyes dim of their usual animation only flicked to him a moment before darting away. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Well, why not?” Ignitus replied, in an unusually sunny mood today.

“...Everyone dies, right? We all know that.” The orange sky above was glazed with pink and red, a fading beauty that would soon forever become a memory. “But if you could choose, would you want to know when... and why? Or would you rather not know at all?”

Ignitus faltered. Morbid topic of conversation... “I suppose... In this situation, I would rather know, so I could make the most of my time before the end came.”

This response left her suddenly still and silent. The girl was facing away, her back giving a tiny quake and betraying her illusion of composure. When she looked back, a few tears were running down her face. “You're not going to make it.”

The Guardian stepped back, suddenly feeling a bit shaky himself. “What do you...?”

She'd already turned away again, unable to meet his eyes as she foretold this horrible truth. “At the end, you chose to sacrifice yourself to save Spyro and Cynder.” Unsteady hands reached up, wiping away her tears. “I always hated that part of the story... It didn't seem fair...”

Hearing her talk about it this way, a tale where on a whim he was written to die, Ignitus had to sit suddenly down. The truth was, he'd known from the moment he entered this war that he may die. That wasn't something he was afraid of. Everyone had a cause they were willing to sacrifice themselves for, and this was his.

But being told the exact nature of his demise by this messenger...

...How could he die when Spyro needed him most?

A part of him had always held onto hope, hope that he would live to see his efforts bring about the return of peace. He'd accepted the fact that he may not make it to the other side of the war, but that was his one wish. Now, knowing that his end was inevitable...

The girl stared at him regretfully as she watched all this play across his face. Maybe she should have kept this secret... But he'd said himself that he would rather know the truth. It'd just been eating away at her for so long, knowing that this person she'd come to see as a friend was fated to die.

Ignitus' death had hit her hard even when he was just a character in a video game, but now that he was real...

The girl shot suddenly to her feet, drawing her sword and startling the old dragon. In one swift action, she grabbed her hair into a bundle and sliced, leaving a clean line of short, dark strands in its wake.

For a moment she stared at the fistful of remains. Then she opened her hand and let the wind carry that piece of her away.

Her hair had never been something she treasured or took particular care of. In her old life, she hadn't the time to think about such things. Split ends were the last thing on her mind.

But in a way, she'd been attached to it. Letting it grow so long had felt like control. It seemed silly now to think of it that way, but sometimes you had to take what you could get.

She was leaving all that behind now. Not her hope of returning home, but her fear of again being helpless if she did make it back. This world had made her strong.

Ignitus stared at her. “Why did you...?”

The girl laughed weakly. “That was probably a little dramatic, wasn't it?” Smiling, she wiped the few lingering tears off her face. “It's hard to fight with your hair always falling into your face, huh? I suppose I'm a bit vain being so attached to it, but it was just getting in the way. So...”

Sheathing her sword, she faced the sunset again. From Ignitus' perspective behind her, she was glowing, overflowing with light. “I let it go.”

As convoluted of a metaphor as it was, Ignitus understood her implication. Something about surrendering the past, of facing the future embracing what you had lost. The old dragon sighed wearily. “Was... Was my death of assistance to Spyro?”

The rawness of this question struck her hard. “Y-yes! You're the only reason he survived. He was close to giving up, but knowing that everything he'd lose would be for nothing...” She looked away. “He had to keep going.”

“In that case,” Ignitus said, rising with renewed strength, “if I was able to give Spyro hope, I can accept that.”

She smiled sadly at him as he walked up beside her, and he found it in himself to smile faintly back.

As they stood together, watching the last dark strands float away on the gentle breeze, he let go of his attachment to this world. Fear, apprehension, uncertainty. It all flew away, becoming the wind that carried the girl's past life towards the dark forest, forgotten.

Chapter Text

"What's Warfang like? C'mon, you guys have gotta tell me all about it! I never lived in the big city before! What sort of places are there? What are the districts? What sorta people live in it?! Human cities had markets and malls and all sortsa shops and places to eat, and parks and reserves and..."

"Have we got everything?" Ignitus sighed, tactfully sidestepping the barrage of questions.

Yesterday's revelation had not granted him much in the way of sleep, but evidently the child had no issues. She was usually up and about later in the morning, but despite the fact that the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, she had just as much energy as ever.

“Yup!” was the chipper answer.

“Your face cover and gloves, and your sword?”

She slung the sword belt over her shoulder and brandished the black pieces of cloth from her pocket. “Yes and yes!”

Ignitus squinted at her. “Didn't I ask you to carry the medical supplies?”

Her eyes widened. Blushing red enough to rival Ignitus' scales, she sprinted past Cyril, nearly knocking over the dragon coming through the Temple's grand entryway.

The ice dragon glanced irately after her, the annoyance fading as he yawned. “Well, this will be interesting at least.”

“With such good conversation, we'll never be bored!” Volteer cheerfully interjected from where he rested on the ground.

Cyril rolled his eyes. “You were more than enough before she got here.” He stretched, adjusting the bags of supplies strapped to his back, much like the other three. “Anyway, this journey wouldn't take so long if we didn't need to go on foot, thanks to her again,” he complained.

“If you would like to carry her,” Ignitus said tiredly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, “be my guest.”

Cyril flashed a sharp, toothy grin. “Only if you'll carry my supplies for me.”

Presently, the girl came rushing through the doors again, this time with a large brown pack. “Ready!”

“Well,” the fire Guardian said, standing, “off we go, then.”

And up the path towards the exit they went, through the winding trails the girl had learned well the past few months and towards the gate that lay not far ahead. As they crested the final hill leading off into the forest, she stopped for a moment and looked back.

The Temple still sought refuge in the last few moments of night, its shadowy spires reaching for the moons that floated away. In a little while, its mossy but proud walls would be glowing golden in the first rays of sunlight, the pleasantly-lit interior dispelling the heavy atmosphere that permeated the building at night.

But for now it lay in twilight, holding its breath. Waiting.

In her mind's eye, the peaceful setting warped into chaos. The Temple was on fire, cracked and shattered into fragments, nothing left of it as it hovered in a sea of ash. Once it had been a home for the Guardians and many others, but now it was only a proving grounds for Spyro.

But she blinked and the mirage was gone. The Temple was normal again, sitting quietly there in the shadows.

Ignitus had stopped to watch her, his scales shining rich fiery orange as he stood in a few stray bits of sunlight beneath the leaves. It was time to go now. If he could stand to leave it behind, then she must say goodbye.

The girl gave the Temple one last, long look. Farewell, old friend, she thought. Spinning around, she ran to catch up with the others.

And the great Temple, abandoned for the last time, watched her disappear into the forest.

Chapter Text

Being a biped, the girl was now in charge of holding the map. She took this opportunity to spend a bit of time examining all the islands and known parts of the mainland. It was a much smaller world than she'd expected.

As they walked, Ignitus explained their intended route. "This island is comprised of forest and swampland," he said, "but our path should keep us out of difficult terrain. At the edge of the island, there's a small storehouse with boats that are passed back and forth to the mainland."

His claw traced the map, pointing out the spot. "You will take a boat through the strait. Two of us will fly near you, and two will go on ahead. The mainland has been swarming with apes," he explained, "so we can never be too careful.

"Then, it's just a matter of following the road to Warfang. Hopefully we'll meet no resistance. But if we do..."

"Then they'll have to battle the five masters of the elements!" the girl interjected. "Fire! Earth! Ice! Electricity!" She drew her shortsword and pointed it valiantly towards the sky. "Metal!"

Terrador looked like he wasn't sure whether to smile or roll his eyes, but he still said sternly, "It's not a game, young one."

She sheathed her sword. "I know that," she grumbled.

"I agree actually," Cyril said. "You don't take much of anything seriously."

The girl crossed her arms. "I'll take it seriously when I get in a real fight." She'd looked a little offended at the scrutiny, but a smirk soon lightened her expression as she turned back to the road. "I'm just trying to cheer you four up. No reason to be so grumpy."

Well, Ignitus thought with a sigh, all young dragons are like that before they get into a real fight, are they not?

He really wasn't sure what to class this strange beast as, child or adult. She was very much like a hatchling in some ways: naive, playful, eternally cheerful. And yet he saw glimmers of something older and sadder in her. In the way she stared, with those serious black eyes that never wavered.

Ignitus glanced at the girl tripping along cheerfully beside him. Chin up, watching the sky. It was hard to believe that she could have such heartache inside her at all, the way she smiled now. He wondered if it was a battle to keep it up, a facade, or if she was just happy despite whatever had gone on in her old world.

Someday, this light inside her may be snuffed out. The realization of this left him suddenly saddened. He knew that she was trying to take this fight seriously, but still she looked ahead with idealism untouched by the horrors of this world.

Once she got into a real fight on her own... How would that affect her?

Would that light just disappear?

Chapter Text

The day faded away quickly, the five of them remaining mostly silent along the way.

The first part of their journey, through the swampy forest that surrounded the Temple, was easy going. This time of the season wasn't too hot or cold, and the heavy tree cover shaded them from the sun's unforgiving rays. The girl entertained herself by watching strange little creatures scurrying about.

But the trees grew more and more sparse, replaced with mushrooms, little ones peppered about; big, overgrown ones that reached to the sky. The ground softened beneath their feet, leaving all of them struggling through the muck. The girl pressed closer to the Guardians, eyes locked on the shadows where strange figures lurked.

But they met no resistance in the desolate swamp, nor any sign of life at all besides the pale white butterflies flitting about. Not even the lights of two dragonflies whose children had left them to wonder.

Soon enough, the muddy ground and standing water gave way to solid dirt again, and they were once more travelling through the forest.

By then, the girl was beginning to get tired. Her limbs were weary from the endless walking, with just a short, soggy break for lunch. But with her face set, she thought, I am not complaining, and walked on.

Ignitus glanced at her, catching that thought. He was getting tired as well anyhow. “Why don't we take a short rest and see what the plan is now?”

The girl smiled gratefully. While the Guardians shrugged off their bags and stretched, she used her last little bit of energy to scurry up a tall tree. Settling down on one of the higher branches, she poked her head up above the leaves.

The sun sent off a final few sparkling rays to the world, the moons two faded orbs behind the clouds. The sky was just as beautiful as ever, perhaps even more so. Today a bit of pink and electric blue streaked across it like a northern light.

She turned her head eastward and gasped, unsteadily pulling herself to her knees. “I can see the ocean!” she cried down to the Guardians, drinking in the sparkling blue with ravenous eyes.

Unwisely she tried to stand up to get a better look, but the frail wood snapped and dropped her. A few branches slowed her fall, the bed of leaves she landed on softer than the hard ground at least. But nowhere near as soft a cushion as she'd been led to believe...

All the Guardians were staring as she stumbled to her feet. “I'm fine,” she groaned, offering a weak smile of reassurance.

Ignitus shook his head. “We've made better time than I expected. I thought we may camp on the island for the night, but if we crossed the strait now, we should be able to set up shortly after nightfall on the mainland.”

“I don't know, Ignitus,” Volteer interjected, studying the map. “It's the new moons tonight, and we know that apes often use this strait to get to the mainland. It might be dangerous, treacherous, precarious... Quite perilous, I say!

“N-not to mention,” he continued, “it would be our friend here in danger, not us.”

“That's true,” Cyril said, a little concerned for her safety though he wouldn't have admitted it, “but ape activity has significantly gone down after the Night of Eternal Darkness.”

Ignitus turned to the girl. “It's up to you. You should be able to navigate fine, as it's just a straight shot to the mainland. But it will be dark, and if something happens, we may not be able to help you.”

She hesitated a moment, then smiled. “What could happen? I'll be okay.”

Secretly, a part of her was pretty scared, but she didn't want to slow them down any more than she already had. Plus, she was excited to get to Warfang. Camping early was a waste.

So they continued on, reaching the coastline soon enough. Beaming, the girl rushed past the Guardians to the small strip of golden sand, laughing as she splashed straight into the water. The ocean held on to the last few rays of sunlight, pulling them down into the depths.

That was one piece of home she missed. She'd always loved having the ocean just a walk away, a safe refuge when things got too hard. The caves that formed near the lip of the sea, buried when high tide came in, were a favourite hiding spot. No one would ever find her there – though no one often went looking.

Ignitus was busy dragging something out of the bushes, so she went to help him. It was a long canoe, a smooth wooden thing just large enough for her and all their bags.

Once the Guardians had unloaded their belongings and pushed the boat off the sand, she clambered in. Uncertainly, she tried to steady herself, feeling the boat rocking with every tiny movement. She vowed not to be seasick before they'd even left, but she was feeling a bit woozy already.

Ignitus lit the lantern that dangled off the raised bow. Noticing her discomfort, he asked, “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She smiled weakly, struggling to raise the oar and managing to push herself forward a bit. “It can't be that hard, right?”

“Ignitus and Volteer will be going ahead,” Terrador informed her, all business. “Cyril and I will watch over you. Once night falls, you may not be able to see us, but we will be able to see you.”

He seemed to be trying to comfort her, so she smiled in appreciation. “That's a relief. I don't want to be out there alone,” she said cheerfully, hoping the worry wasn't visible on her face.

Ignitus dug through one of the bags, producing an odd contraption and handing it to her. “This is a flare,” he explained. “If you run into trouble out there, just aim for the sky and pull that string. Terrador and Cyril should be able to protect you until we arrive.”

The girl put it in her pocket. “Thanks. I should be alright, though.”

“Alright. Are we ready?” At the other Guardians' nods and her thumbs up, the dragons took to the sky, and the girl pushed herself off into the blue.

“Good luck!” she called after them. Just at the edge of the horizon, the mainland stood there with its distant blue mountains piercing the sky, as straight a shot as he'd said. Rotating herself, she began paddling.

When her arms got tired, she would rest a moment and glance upwards. Terrador and Cyril were still visible up there above the clouds, flying at a steady pace, so she felt safe to take it slow and not tire herself out.

The sun was going down fast, though, and no light of the moons would replace it. And with one last flicker of sunset, it was gone, leaving the dark depths of the ocean all around her.

As she paddled she stared hard at the Guardians' two shadowy forms, trying desperately not to lose them. But her gaze's hold slipped and they were gone. The only thing visible were the dark orbs in the sky and slightest of shine on the inky black waters. Not the mainland before, nor the island they'd come from. The only light came from the lantern that creaked and swung on its post before her.

As fear set in, the girl tried to reassure herself that the Guardians would come down and tell her if she was headed off course, but she knew that they couldn't see either. Perhaps they were going the wrong way and they didn't even know it.

Well, she thought, eyes probing the heavy veil of darkness all around her, there's nothing to do now but go forward.

So onwards she went.

Occasionally she spotted a dragon's shadow black out the stars above, so she felt a little better. But for the most part, she could see nothing, and hear nothing too but the gentle breeze that followed the ocean wherever it went.

Soon she lost track of time. In this endless shadow, surrounded by the sea and its murky depths on all sides, it was impossible to know where she was or how long she had been there. It could have been hours or days since she set off that pretty shore. It seemed so long ago!

Terrified, she scanned the sky, but it was just as dark above her as it was below. Where were the Guardians? Had they left her to drift forever in the eternal night?

She thought her mind was playing tricks on her when she saw shadows moving all around her.

The girl squinted into the darkness as they drifted lazily by, cutting off her path to the mainland. Why did it feel like she was surrounded on all sides by...?

A boat slid by her lantern before disappearing into the night, and her eyes widened.

She stopped everything, slowly dropping the oar and shrinking away from the light. Looking all around her, seeing now the glittering eyes that stood upon these shadows, she was entirely surrounded by an ape fleet.

The girl's eyes lifted, and she thought she could see a panicked gaze looking back at her, telling her to call for help. Grabbing the flare, she pointed it skyward...

And then she stopped, slowly letting her arm down. There were no battle cries, no screaming, no scrambling to grab weapons and pepper her with arrows. They... they thought she was one of them, didn't they?

She thought about turning her boat right around and getting out of there, but if she made any wrong moves, they would all be upon her. And running would be the worst thing she could do.

Instead, she pulled up her hood and carefully clambered to the bow, blowing out the lantern. Now with no light to blind the shadows, her eyes adjusted to the darkness easily and she could see that the fleet was moving against the mainland. They were simple skiffs, each containing one or two small apes, though a few held much larger ones.

The best thing to do to avoid suspicion was to continue on her path. So she kept her head raised and stared straight ahead, not daring to make eye contact with any of the apes – though she remembered to hunch over a bit so she would look more like them.

Every long moment that passed, every stroke of the oars in the water, felt like an eternity that would never end. But she made it through the line of apes, a shudder of relief escaping her. They hadn't realized that she wasn't one of them. And she almost started to relax.

“'ey, recruit! Stop there!”

Stiffening, the girl looked back and saw that a single large ape had broken formation – not one of the towering commanders, but no small soldier either.

Putting down her oar and hoping he wouldn't notice the bags, she turned to face him. “Sir?” she said, lowering her voice to a scratchy growl and praying to whatever gods inhabited this world that the ape army contained females. Her soft voice was impossible to disguise.

“Where d'ya think you're going, recruit?” the ape asked, rising from his seat as he stopped beside her.

He lifted something off his seat, the sudden light blinding her as the cover lifted off what was apparently a lantern. She shrank away from his scrutiny as he squinted at her. “Can't you see that we're goin' towards Warfang?”

The girl scrambled for an answer and finally stuttered out, “S-sir, I was told to travel along the mainland and keep an eye out for any soldiers.” She realized that she needed an explanation for her odd entrance. “I was meant to go behind the others, but I lost my way.”

“Ah, 's that so?” the ape muttered, seemingly growing bored with her already. “Dunno why the commander would order that. A few moles are hardly an issue, and it's not like there's any dragons left.”

He chuckled sharply and she forced a laugh along with him. “W-well,” she said, her confidence growing with the success of her ruse and even beginning to enjoy playing this character, “there's always those blasted G-Guardians – if they come out here, I'll take care of them myself!”

The ape burst out laughing, a howling sound that chilled her to the bone and evaporated any fun she may have been having. “Recruits,” he muttered, waving his arm to dismiss her. “Get on with it, then. Don't let me stop you!” He barked laughter after her again.

“T-thank you, sir,” the girl said, her confidence wilting as she picked up the oar again.

The ape was beginning to paddle away, but he stopped and looked after her. “Thank you?” he asked incredulously. Shaking his head, he turned away again. “No one's said that to me in a long time.”

Eyes stricken wide, she paddled away as quickly as her arms would let her. By the time she mustered the courage to turn around, the shadows had gone.

The girl's heart didn't stop pounding until the boat hit land with a decided thump. Ignitus and Volteer were waiting for her there.

“You,” she breathed, shaken, “have no idea how glad I am to see a friendly face.”

“Did everything go alright?” Ignitus asked in concern. “We made camp already. Come to the fire.”

As they sat her down next to the campfire and handed her some food, she was looking rather pale. While Ignitus went to put the boat back into its shed, Terrador and Cyril landed on the shore, both of them a little pallid themselves.

Terrador rushed into the camp immediately. “Are you alright?” he demanded.

“I'm okay,” she said cheerfully, though the hands that held her food were shaking. “They didn't hurt me.”

Volteer spoke up from where he'd lain down by the campfire, looking annoyed. “I declare, first this child returns looking absolutely petrified and won't say a word. Now you and Cyril come running in and go on in enigmas. Wha-what in the world happened?”

“There was an ape fleet in the way,” the girl herself answered, continuing to munch on her dinner.

Now it was Volteer and Ignitus looking like all the blood had drained out of their face. “And you didn't use your flare?!” the fire Guardian demanded.

“And then what?” the girl demanded. “I'd've been shot full of arrows by the time anyone could do anything. They thought I was an ape, so I figured it'd be better to avoid conflict,” her eyes burned, “than to needlessly put all of you in danger!”

The dragons fell quiet at her outburst, so she crossed her arms. “I'm fine, okay?”

Ignitus sighed heavily and collapsed to the dirt. “Please,” he said, sounding about ten years older, “do not put yourself in danger for our sake. You hardly need to worry about any one of us.”

The girl looked away. She thought about saying what she'd already decided, that she would willingly give her life to make sure the Guardians survived. She couldn't endanger them just for her life.

“I'm alive,” she said. “We're all alive. No harm done.”

They all sat down by the fire, but none of the Guardians said what they were thinking. It wasn't just about that. She was their friend, their companion, and in some small way, she had changed all of them. If they lost her now, they would never be the same.

“Well, anyway,” Cyril said, trying to lighten the somber mood, “you should've heard the way she went on! 'Those blasted Guardians! I'll take care of them myself!'”

The girl's face turned as red as the fire that danced before her, her melancholy forgotten for the moment. “I-I was just getting in character was all! It's not like I meant it!”

“Some acting!” the ice dragon huffed. “For a moment I thought you had gone and joined the other side!”

The two continued squabbling as the other Guardians groaned and went to lay down.

Night settled in and the party with it, leaving the girl the last one awake. Laying on her side next to the dying fire, listening to the slow breaths of her companions, she watched the flames dance up into the stars. It was endless, that light.

Unable to sleep, thinking aimless thoughts and nothings, she sat up on the pile of heavy blankets. The Guardians were strewn out around her, encasing her and the fire in a protective circle.

In her heart, there was a feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on. Something safe. Something happy. Something she didn't have words for, a feeling trapped in this briefest of moments beneath the stars.

The girl experienced something she never had before that night. She finally knew that she would be missed when she was gone.

Chapter Text

The next day on their journey was much the same as the last, though without any oceanic misadventures. The five tramped on through sunlit meadows, little patches of forest that housed strange tiny creatures, and overgrown woods where light couldn't penetrate the treeline. But no matter where they went, how the cobblestone faded to gravel and dirt and back again, the road always lay before them.

The apes had gone on to the lands beyond Warfang, so they saw no one on the trail. Ignitus told the girl that when they began to meet passing mole battalions, they would be nearing the city. But for now they may well have been the only people in the world.

She marvelled at the lack of civilization. On Earth you couldn't drive ten minutes much of anywhere without finding a house, a town, a city. And even in the places that were relatively uninhabited, the forests had all been chopped down. Sometimes it felt like there was no truly wild land left.

But out here the forest was endless and all-consuming. She imagined that if the grass was connected to the flowers, and the flowers were connected to the bushes, and the bushes were connected to the trees, they would form a network that stretched unbroken across the entire world.

But through her wonder she remembered, too, that it was hard to be lost forever on Earth. If she stepped away from the Guardians for a moment, she may walk for miles and miles, months and months, and never find anybody. So she stuck close, peering about at the forest from within her safe bubble.

Though exhausted from the past day of walking, her body was beginning to grow used to the exertion. Plus, she and Volteer kept up a healthy conversation, so she almost didn't notice the pain. When the Guardians finally prepared to stop at nightfall, she almost wanted to keep going – though she wasn't going to argue the point.

After dinner, rabbit jerky and a bit of a strange blue fruit picked along the way – despite their scary teeth, dragons were in fact omnivorous – the girl settled down in the soft grass a bit away from the fire.

She was propped up on one of their large bags, bored and about to doze off, when something caught her attention. The trickling, distant sound of running water. Perhaps there was a river nearby?

Her eyes turned to the Guardians, chatting in low murmurs over the fire. An evening walk wouldn't hurt, right? It wasn't quite nightfall yet, and she could see a path had been stamped out leading towards the river sound. Probably one of the Guardians had slipped off when she hadn't noticed.

Even if they would object, better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? With a mischievous smile, the girl slowly rose and backed unnoticed into the woods. Only the rustle of bushes marked her passing.

Though the forest thus far had hung ominously over them, holding fright within its unknown depths, the canopy here was thinner and allowed sunlight to touch the leaf-littered floor.

She tripped along cheerfully, waving to the brightly-patterned birds that peered lazily down at her and sang their goodnight songs. The patches of evening sun falling through sparkled prettily and kept her in high spirits.

Whenever unease began to creep up, she glanced behind her. Though eventually she could no longer see the fire shining through the underbrush, the path was still there. She wouldn't get lost as long as she stayed on it.

And though human wilderness had wolves and other monsters lurking about, she hadn't seen any of the sort around here. Knowing this world, they'd probably be sentient and quite civilized anyhow.

So carelessly on she went, searching out that river. Though the rushing grew louder as she walked and she was certain this path led there, twilight was beginning to fall. Perhaps she'd better be getting back after all. Turning, she began to head towards camp again.

Snap.

The girl had been idly twirling a long blade of grass in her fingers, but she let it fall at the crack that resounded through the forest. That... didn't sound like a squirrel.

Where had all the animals gone anyhow? The songbirds were gone, their little voices leaving behind an eerie silence, and not a single pair of curious eyes looked at her from the wood.

She cast a wary glance down the path, but she'd been ambling along for perhaps twenty minutes and the camp was nowhere near in sight. The girl at least had the sense to bring her sword along, but in this overgrowth, she had no mobility.

...Anyway, who made this path? Her eyes widened. She thought perhaps it'd been one of the Guardians slipping off somehow, but with a trail this long, she definitely would have noticed their absence.

So... who or what had made it?

As the snapping of twigs grew closer, the girl damned herself for being so careless. She'd wandered out here, skipping along like a bloody forest sprite, and now something was after her!

She took a step forward, intending to run for her life back to camp. But before she could bolt, out emerged a shadow from the woods. A behemoth it was; it stood just a few feet taller than her, though three times as wide. Hunched over like a barbarian with scraggly brown fur to match, it stared at her with beady black eyes that glittered in the twilight.

An ape. And a big one at that, holding a mean-looking sword with a jagged silver blade. Old blood rusted its surface, as if it had never been cleaned.

Whether it was the blood of hunted animals or innocent creatures, that girl did not want to find out. Suddenly feeling weak, she stumbled back. Where had all that experience gone, that training? Her helpless gaze turned to her sword. She felt as if she'd lose a fight with a butterfly, much less this terrifying ape!

Her eyes flicked all around, desperately searching for a way out. The ape stood in her way, blocking her exit, and slowly drawing closer with a sharp-toothed grin. She could take off from the path, but even if he didn't catch her, she'd be lost in the woods.

The only place to go was backwards. Directly away from her saviours.

She saw him stiffen and knew she was out of time. In an instant he dashed forward, blade out, but she was faster. With a scream of “IGNITUS!”, she took off towards the river, the brute just inches behind.

The girl sprinted through the forest that had once been friendly but now put obstacles in her path, stumbling over roots and smacking into branches. She dared not look back, but she felt as if the ape's breath was on her neck.

Instinct, she thought. Her teacher had lamented the human's seeming lack of it, but she ducked on some strange impulse and felt the whoosh of a blade flying over her head.

Thank you, dragon ancestors, she thought, and she would have smiled bitterly if terror hadn't been cemented in her bones.

Perhaps someone was on her side, whispering protective secrets into her ear. Though if the ancestors of this world sympathized with her or her cause to protect the Guardians, it didn't seem like there was much they could do. She may have spent many months training, but her body was not accustomed this abuse.

With every step she took, energy only continued to drain from her. Until she was nothing but heart-pounding adrenaline and air. This couldn't last much longer; she would have to stop and fight. Tired and exhausted... Could she win that battle?

As she ran with her mind racing, something hard slapped against her leg and drew her back to reality. The flare! If she could get to an open area, surely they would notice that! It was her only hope now.

The girl heard the river rushing and roaring in full force. There could be a clearing there – there had to be.

So she pushed herself harder, harder until her chest felt like it would burst, until she felt like she was becoming wind – until she burst through the underbrush, tripping and falling to the ground as she twisted around and fumbled for the flare in her pocket.

Pointing it skyward, she yanked the string. A burst of scarlet exploded from it, leaving her ears ringing as she hit the dirt. It sailed for the faint sunset stars and shattered like a firework into a million trails of light, fading into ash that rained down upon her.

The ape soon burst through the underbrush as well, but he froze and stared at the sky still overflowing with light. Wide eyes narrowing, he turned his glare on her. “You little bi – ”

No choice but to fight now. She drew her sword, and he was on her.

Steel clashed, her still vulnerable on her back in the dirt. Her blade quivered as she struggled to keep him off, then with a shove she pushed him back and scrambled to her feet. Always get up, Ignitus had drilled into her.

Though the ape stumbled, he attacked again in but a moment. She'd taken him by surprise, but he was stronger than her, and she wouldn't be able to do that again. With a wary glance at the rushing river and slippery rocks behind, she reminded herself not to lose her footing.

The battle wore on. The girl played defensively, choosing to block and dodge over putting herself in danger, but every movement took its toll on her exhausted body. Where were the Guardians?! They must have seen or heard the flare.

She wasn't going to last much longer. He was closing in on her, every swing a little closer, every clash of their swords threatening to tear it from her grip. They had to come, or she...

The girl stilled, panic setting in. They... weren't going to come, were they? Not in time, or not at all. She was on her own now. And if she ran, she'd never make it back. She had to take down the ape, or she would never see the golden walls of Warfang.

Gripping her sword tighter, she uncertainly sized up her enemy. She'd never killed anything before. Well, she... she didn't know how. But she didn't have a choice.

She'd have to surprise him, then. This was an outmatched battle for sure.

Narrowing her eyes, she waited, watching his every move. Just one misstep, one show of weakness... and it would be done.

It didn't take long for an opening to appear. She spotted it, the telltale stiffening of an oncoming charge, but he had misaligned. As he ran at her with a chilling cry, she stepped effortlessly out of the way, catching him in a weak spot and felling the beast.

The girl loomed above with her sword raised as the ape struggled on the ground, the intense rays of dying sunlight not matching the fire in her eyes as she prepared to end it for good.

And then she hesitated. She realized what she was about to do.

In that tiniest fraction of a moment, the downed ape lashed out with his jagged blade. The girl saw it coming, but it was too late. By the time she hit the ground, her thick robe had been cut through like butter, leaving her strong left arm bleeding and useless.

The ape towered over her, grinning at her shock. She hadn't wanted to kill a living creature. She'd vowed to never be like him, a person who hurt so easily without remorse. The person who'd turned his back and left her dying in the snow.

Her conviction – I want to learn how to fight – it wasn't false. But as much as she'd tried to be realistic, she had envisioned herself a valiant warrior, saving others and slicing through wrong-doers. A storybook hero.

She didn't know it would be like this. Exhaustion wearing at every movement, blood staining her skin, the terror and uncertainty of snuffing out another life. Even one trying to take her own.

Now she couldn't even save herself...

Her gaze fell to the sword that lay in the grass as she clutched her bleeding arm. This... This wasn't any way to die. For Spyro's sake, for the sake of the world, she'd sworn that she would do everything in her power to keep the Guardians alive. She'd promised herself that, right?

Here she was already messing up this world, changing things forever, for good. If she died now, not keeping that promise... If she didn't have the chance to prove herself...

This world that she had loved since she was a child... Would it just fade away?

Her whole body trembled as she fell back towards the river, trying to get away but making it no more than a few inches. The ape was raising his blade now, preparing to deliver the final blow. If she did nothing... If she just sat here, petrified...

Her sister's face flashed into her mind. The golden hair that caught sunlight like the sparkling ocean, sweet brown eyes, innocent. She couldn't be alone, not with him, not without the wall that had always stood between them. That was the end she was fighting for; that little kid was waiting.

Not like this, the girl thought. Not like this.

Ignitus rushed wild-eyed into the clearing just in time to see the end of the battle. In one swift movement, the girl snatched up her sword and drove it through the ape's legs. The beast howled and fell onto the bank of the river as his sword sunk into its depths.

And before he could even raise an arm to shield himself, the child he had previously seen as timid, easy pickings was upon him, the cold blade of her steel piercing his chest. But she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She raged against the two worlds she knew for keeping her chained and unable to fight back, then dangling a second chance in front of her, only to try and snatch it away again.

The slight resistance against her blade, the sickly warm flecks of blood spraying across her face, her vision a blinding, meaningless swirl of colours though her eyes were so wide open. She wouldn't stop until the ape, this obstacle between her and her sister, was cold and dead.

That was the last thing he saw as his howls trickled into a weak whimper, this strange creature with eyes like burning black suns bleeding tears.

When she couldn't move her arms anymore, a gentle paw on her shoulder snapped her out of the fog. She stiffened, prepared to whirl around and go at this assailant too. But recognizing Ignitus, she finally stopped. The sword fell from her fingers into the mud. And the ape's mutilated corpse was carried away.

Ignitus had always talked about how a real battle was far different from training. How war could change you, send the bravest person running or turn the meekest into a monster. She believed him now.

The other three Guardians finally burst through the underbrush. The ape was gone, but they found the girl frazzled and bloody with wide, empty eyes, and that said enough.

Before they could shout their questions, Ignitus shook their head at them. “She's injured,” he said quickly, though his even voice betrayed nothing. “Go back to camp and prepare the medical supplies while I escort her back.”

They gave a glance at at the girl collapsed on the ground and covered in blood, muck, and speckles of ash. But reluctantly, they turned and headed back.

When their footsteps faded, Ignitus offered a paw. For a moment she sat there staring at him, the glow of the rising red moon haloed behind him darkening his expression, and finally took it.

Though she wasn't cold, she couldn't stop shivering as her legs threatened to give out. But somehow she managed to retrieve her sword and rinse off the blood, its red in the water staining the corner of her eyes though she tried not to look at it.

Then the two of them began the journey back to camp. At her slow, unsteady pace, it seemed far longer a walk going back. The trail stretched on before them, no light to guide their way.

The silence that hung between the two of them wasn't their usual companionable quiet, but an eerie emptiness that kept the girl on edge. She stole a glance at him, but his eyes were locked ahead.

Why? she wondered. Why...

“I couldn't stop,” she choked out, just as petrified as when they'd left. Ignitus only looked at her, so she went on. “One second I thought all was lost. It was like I'd given up. And then... When I realized I was going to die... When I realized I would never make it home...”

She drew a shuddering breath. “...It was like something had taken over me.”

She thought of him, that same looming darkness lurking beneath a calm exterior. One moment calm. The next a raging storm to drag her under.

I'll never be like him. That conviction, an echo of the past, now seeming hollow. What if she already was?

Desperate, she turned to Ignitus. “Am I a bad person?”

Ignitus held her pleading gaze a moment, then looked away. “What we do in war, in life or death situations,” he said quietly, “rarely reflects our true selves. But at the same time, we must not let it change us.

“So no,” he finished. “I do not think you are a bad person, if you don't allow this to change who you are. You were put in a dangerous situation, one unlike any you'd ever experienced before. I would not judge you for losing yourself in such a way.”

As his red eyes turned skyward, past the canopy to the stars winking through, a bitter smile crossed his face. “We've all done something we're ashamed of in this war.”

The girl stared at him. Realizing her eyes were brimming with tears, she began to quake with weak laughter. “Why...” She shook her head. “Why are you so nice to me?”

He gave her a quizzical look as she turned away. “All of you have been, I can't imagine why, but you especially. Ever since the beginning...” She sniffed, wiping her eyes with her good arm. “Even with how crazy all the stuff I was saying must have sounded, you trusted me when no one else did. You convinced the others to let me stay. You listened to me and taught me to fight. And even now that I've snapped and completely lost it, you're still trying to help me.”

With disbelief in her eyes she turned back up to him. “Why?”

Ignitus just stared back at her, the expression on his face hardly changed, but after a moment it softened. “No one has shown you kindness before, have they?”

The girl started, but her gaze lowered, almost in guilt. “Not enough.” Brief glimpses of mercy in a flawed humanity. Tiny moments of warmth in a cold world. So small against the overwhelming cruelties that she almost couldn't remember. Not enough.

What seemed world-changing to her must have been nothing more than normal to him. And though she'd offered, he'd asked nothing in return.

She couldn't make sense of it.

Ignitus seemed deep in thought as they neared the camp, the firelight now a shining beacon through the leaves. She didn't expect an answer to that question. What could he have really said? For some people, kindness came easy.

But as they drew closer to the sound of soft voices and crackling fire, he paused. “I suppose...”

And then he looked like he was elsewhere, beyond this forest, before it. “I suppose you reminded me of my son.”

The girl stopped in her tracks. “You had a son?”

“I did.” Ignitus closed his eyes and walked on into the camp. “Once.”

For a moment she looked after him, a few pieces clicking together in her mind. Wordlessly she followed.

Back among the Guardians, any secret connection they'd shared was severed as she was ushered to the fire and worried over, Terrador taking over wrapping up her injuries. Cheerfully she chattered on like usual, retelling the story as if it was just a silly mishap.

A few parts she left out. They didn't ask.

Long after the others had finally fallen asleep, she still lay awake. Until the wee hours of the morning, as soft light dawned in the sky and blew out the last glowing black embers, she dozed in and out, staring into what was left of the fire.

In it she saw the screaming ape's face torn apart by the flames, heard the echoes of his howls in every crack and pop that snapped her awake again. When she closed her eyes, the fear in his lurked there, a monster staring into the eyes of a monster.

What she couldn't forget, what the lingering sting in her arm kept reminding her of, was how close she'd come to losing everything.

But there was something else she couldn't forget. Ignitus' deep sorrow that he hid so well, it brought her a strange comfort, a reprieve from the horrors permanently etched into her mind. At least she wasn't alone.

Maybe he was on his own journey home. Maybe somebody was waiting for him, too.

She was happy, in a way. Until it came time for them to part, for her to return to the world she'd come from, they could go there together. Two people on two separate quests walking together on the same path.

At least for now, she wouldn't have to go on her journey alone.

Chapter Text

Dawn came quickly, another day of their venture beginning. The girl was quiet, still a bit in shock over yesterday's battle, and even the Guardians were pensive. So there was little chatter that day, and it had dragged on.

But finally the sun hung a blazing orb above. Soon it would be afternoon, and afternoon would fade into evening, and they could stop.

Ignitus glanced at the girl and then at the road winding through the forest before them. They were closing in on Warfang, and the overgrown path of scattered, cracked stone was beginning to look more polished and kept.

“Keep your hood up from now on,” Ignitus said to her. “We should be seeing Warfang's scouts very soon now.”

Nodding, she pulled up her hood, swept her short hair back, and tied the mask around her face. Under black and blue covers, she looked like little more than an amorphous blob of cloth. With her willowy if short stature, anyone who saw her would be more likely to guess she was a cheetah than some strange creature from another reality.

For a while it was fun to keep her head down as play as an incognito wanderer, but soon she grew tired of it. The black mask on her face made it hard to breathe and the hood was always getting in the way of her wandering eyes.

But as it turned out, Ignitus was right. Soon after, they heard footsteps pounding down the trail. Before the five had time to do much more than assume a defensive stance, a pale brown mole clad in light armour shot around a tree, huffing for dear life.

“Guardians!” he gasped, scrambling about in confusion for a moment, then finally settling on bowing.

Terrador pulled a water pouch out of the bag and handed it to the exhausted mole, who downed it gratefully. Once he had caught his breath, he continued, “Was it you who shot that flare out yesterday?”

“It was me,” the girl said without thinking. Realizing that everyone was staring at her now, she lowered her head to shadow her face. “I was attacked by an ape, so I tried to signal the Guardians.”

“Ah, I am glad you are alright, miss.” The mole bowed again, a lock of scruffy fur flopping into his eyes. “We were under attack ourselves, so though we saw the flare, they could not spare any soldiers.”

Ignitus stiffened and the girl flinched as she was lit on fire. Never got used to that... “Are there still apes?” he barked. “Shall we come fight them off?”

“N-no, sir!” the mole cried. “We fought well and lost no moles. As soon as it was over, I ran straight here by myself!”

A thought crossed the girl's mind then. The ape, his eyes glittering in the moonlight, muttering to himself when she thanked him. Something in her was almost sad.

They decided to let the soldier rest after his long trek, and so cleared out an area not far from the road. A small fire staved off the biting chill of autumn closing in on the mainland. Everyone was glad to have a break, and over lunch they listened to the mole tell scattered stories of his life as a scout.

The girl cheerfully relayed her story to him, and though she was still shaken by the experience, she began to see the humour in it as well. Walking off into the woods pretending to be a fairy...

“Ah,” the mole said, shifting forward on the downed log he'd made his seat, “would it be rude of me to ask why you and the Guardians are travelling together?”

The four dragons stopped eating and exchanged glances. It wasn't terribly unusual for them to keep others under their protection for a time, but they had yet to discuss a cover story for where this girl had come from or her strange appearance.

Before one of them could cut in, the girl spoke first. “I am an orphan,” she began, her voice brimming with the dramatics of a storyteller. “I came from a small cheetah village, untouched by the war until the day the apes came to massacre us all. They burned me alive and left me for dead, so now I must hide my disfigured body under a cloak.”

The girl, enjoying her dramatic performance and the mole's enraptured stare, bowed her head. “I wandered alone for days before the Guardians found me and brought me under their protection. I shall stay with them until I am old enough to take part in this war. Only then can I avenge my lost village.”

The mole stared, wiping a brimming tear from eyes as rich brown as his fur. “Ah, miss!” he exclaimed when he could find his voice. “What a tragic tale! Well, I shall look forward to fighting alongside you someday. I'm sure you shall prove yourself splendidly!”

“Thank you,” the girl said simply, glad that her mask hid her smile.

After he had rested up, the mole made to depart. The girl was disappointed, as she'd taken a liking to him and almost wished he would walk with them to Warfang.

“Thank you for the meal,” he said, nodding at the Guardians. Turning to the girl, he made a sweeping bow. “It was nice to meet you, miss. Much of my duties are spent in Warfang, so if ever you need assistance, feel free to ask for Addison.”

The girl's silly grin was hidden behind the mask. She bowed the way Ignitus had showed her, remembering to speak formally. “It was very nice to meet you as well, Addison. Thank you for your offer.”

“Well, I must go now,” Addison said, bowing to the group again before taking off. “Farewell!”

When his footsteps had gone, they continued walking on until the silence was broken by Cyril. “Don't you think that story was a little dramatic?”

“Wha-at?” The girl looked offended and pulled off her mask just to show it. “I thought that was a great explanation! Do you have any better ideas? We're going to need some cover story!”

Ignitus had been walking on in contemplative silence, but he spoke now before Cyril, rolling his eyes, could cut in. “You lie very easily,” he mused, looking somewhat troubled.

“Hmm?” The girl glanced at the Guardian she walked beside, now feeling troubled herself. “I guess so.”

I've always done that, haven't I? Anything to stay out of her father's crosshairs. Anything to keep people from looking her way too long, long enough to realize that something wasn't right about her.

Because when she'd tried to tell the truth, the world just turned away anyhow.

She didn't want to go back there, to those thoughts that twisted and darkened her worldview. “It was only a story,” she muttered, quickly changing the topic before Ignitus could reply. “And I've never lied to any one of you!” She paused, eyes wide. “I think.”

Cyril interjected, “You think?!”

The girl laughed, but as they continued on, her smile didn't fade. She hadn't even reached the city yet, but already she'd made her first friend. Things were looking up.

Maybe in Warfang, she could build a happy life there, even if it was only just for a little while.

Chapter Text

The days faded on with every step, eventually creeping into a calm and blissful night. By now the girl's legs had stopped aching and she began to dread the next morning a little less as she drifted off, the crackle of the fire luring her to sleep.

But, well, she was beginning to get tired of it. They now met the mole squadrons regularly, stopping to exchange greetings and stories of what they'd seen on the trail. But even this interruption couldn't much help the boredom, especially since she was supposed to stay out of the way and not draw attention to herself.

If one has ever had the childhood experience of listening to adults continue to drone on to each other after saying their goodbyes twenty minutes ago, then they could certainly imagine that the girl did not have a very entertaining few days.

But finally the day came when Ignitus announced that they would reach Warfang before sundown. He realized his mistake soon after, as the girl immediately sailed up into the clouds on the edge of exploding like a firework. To put it simply, she couldn't close her mouth.

“Where are we going to be staying?” was only about her twentieth question of the morning.

“They are expecting us, and the arrangements have been made,” replied Ignitus with commendable patience. “I requested a quieter part of the city, out of the way, to ensure your safety.”

Yeah, no chance of that. She was booking it to explore the moment they turned their heads. They'd drilled it into her to be careful with her disguise at all times, and she was at least getting a taste of the draconic city of fantasy out of the deal.

Her onslaught went on well into the day. It was approaching noon when she demanded with just as much vivacity as six hours ago, “How many dragons live in Warfang?!”

“All of them,” Ignitus answered shortly, cutting off Volteer who was about to give a detailed demographic report. The fire Guardian had long lost count of her inquiries, and, for reasons not entirely related to her, was ready for this long journey to end.

The girl smirked. “You four didn't live there.”

“Well,” Ignitus said, “we do now.”

After rattling off every possible question she could think of, she was finally starting to lose steam. Still, he hadn't really answered her question. “Are there a lot of” – then again, maybe that was a bad question, the whole genocide thing and all – “a lot of different species?”

They didn't seem to notice her slip, Terrador who was ambling along at the back answering this time. “Dragons and moles make up the main population, cheetahs as well, but others have been trickling in from parts of the world yet unexplored.”

She chuckled to herself, giving a few small stones on the trail a hearty kick. “I bet you thought I was just a foreigner too!”

Ignitus glanced at her dancing along beside him, sunlight sparkling down through the leaves to light up her airy form. “You,” he said, “were different.”

The girl blinked and tilted her head. Before she could ask what he meant, they crested a hill, her eyes drifting over the landscape as a gasp flew from her mouth. “Warfang!” she cried, pointing. “We made it!”

The forest came to an abrupt end before them, though the trail plodded steadily on. The girl broke off into the grassland littered with stumps and flowers, crying, “I can see the sky!” as the Guardians rolled their eyes at her boundless energy.

Just in the distance stood the stately figure of Warfang – merely a silhouette on the horizon, but magnificent and glorious in its size. The city seemed shrouded in its own shadow, buildings and towers competing to see who could grow higher. Gold stone and blue trimmings on every building sparkled in the ample sunlight, giving it a rich visage.

It was a vast city, perhaps the biggest the girl had ever seen with her own eyes. She could easily get lost there and never find her way out. Almost like the endless forest she had just escaped... An urban labyrinth.

She danced with brimming excitement. Daunting it may be, she could hardly wait to see the inside.

Everyone was relieved, but Cyril was the one to voice his complaints. “Thank the ancestors. If I have to listen to these two – ” he pointed at an offended Volteer and an oblivious girl, “blather on anymore, I might just turn around and walk back to the Temple alone!”

The girl, having poked her nose into a field of tall grass, emerged hoodless with her hair coated in burrs. “C'mon, Cyril, without us two you'd be bored to death!”

The ice dragon grumbled. “Better bored to death than annoyed to death.”

“Hood up,” Ignitus chided, ignoring their banter. “Once we're in Warfang, you can't forget.”

She sighed dramatically, but did as he said. It was annoying having her vision obstructed, but it was worth it. Soon, they'd reach the Dragon City. With this goal set plainly before her in the distance, she readied herself for one last push.

And before she knew it, there they were in the shadow of those great carved gates. Mole guards peered over the edge and shouted towards the others, who hurriedly pulled at the ropes and mechanisms upon hearing who was standing outside. In a moment, the gates began to pry apart before them.

The girl had to stop herself from gaping as Warfang opened up before her. It was gorgeous, streets and buildings made of stone that seemed solid gold in the sunlight. Harsh as the summery sun was, it made Warfang sparkle like a dying star. Towers and buildings stretched to the clouds like skyscrapers, pretty blue accents striping every one.

Just from this entry courtyard she could see gardens spilling with life, potted trees lining the streets leading out, fountains dotted here and there, bridges over irrigated streams, golden statues, and all sorts of other things her mind in overdrive couldn't find the space to take in.

There were dragons – more dragons than she even knew were left – moles, cheetahs, and strange unknown species cloaked in robes, just like her.

The disorienting movements of the crowd as they scattered through Warfang left her dizzy. She stepped forward deliriously, a little country girl caught in the dazzle of the big city.

All nearby creatures stopped to look at the spectacle, the four Guardians and the cloaked stranger accompanying them. Dragons waved and smiled, cheetahs bowed politely, moles cheered. Though soon enough the effect wore off and the crowd returned to its own bustling.

Noticing the girl's star-eyed expression, obvious even through the mask that covered her nose down, Cyril sighed. “We have an envoy coming to escort us, so try not to draw attention to yourself.”

Her blush hidden, the girl straightened and wiped the look off her face, pressing closer behind the Guardians where she wouldn't be noticed. But she couldn't stop her eyes from roaming, ravenously drinking in the sights. She'd never seen a place so glorious in all her life.

And here in the midst of the greatest city in the world, the tired old backwater towns she'd seen through grimy windows in the back of her dad's rusted car couldn't so much as come to mind.

Soon they passed through the busiest districts and the city began to quiet down. The roar of the crowd grew distant and the girl could hear her thoughts again.

As she ducked through the shadows of a narrow passage with tall trees growing up the walls above, staring up dreamily at a particularly romantic-looking tower, something caught her attention.

The path opened up into a courtyard on the right, bordered by tall walls, a distinctive multi-storied building – a school, maybe – and transplanted foliage creeping up the stone and spilling out of the gardens. A little dragon and three kid cheetahs were over there, playing...

She stopped. There was something familiar to her here, a brimming threat in the air she could still sense from a mile away. No... They weren't playing. There was a distant cry from the little dragon as he dropped to the ground, curling up into a ball as the cheetahs set viciously into him with sharp kicks and jeers.

The girl froze and looked in alarm at the Guardians who continued trodding on before her unperturbed. Had they not noticed? Could they not hear his cries? Or had they...

Had they looked away?

She watched them walking into the leaves' mottled shadows, not even noticing that she had stopped. If... that was what they thought was right... She took a step forward and hesitated, staring hard at the ground. She should follow them, right? There was a reason for ignoring him, wasn't there?

It wasn't their problem. They couldn't save everyone.

Memories flowed back, every muscle in her body stiffening as they washed stark over her. Memories of herself in a similar position, curled up on the ground or forced against the wall, taunted with gleeful cries of “daddy issues!” – she'd told one person her secrets, just once, and as drama would have it, they of course had told everyone.

She'd screamed and screamed. People stopped and looked, children, adults. Teachers, parents, students, passersby. But they all just watched, or worse yet...

They turned away and walked on. Like she didn't exist.

Trembling hands raised, black fabric warped as they curled tight into fists. No one ever helped me, not once, she thought, tears welling up in her eyes as the pavement wobbled. Not one single person said anything at all.

Before she could stop herself, she was halfway across the courtyard, a scream ripping from her chest. The cheetahs turned to see the black blur flying towards them, but it was too late. Her fist slammed into the biggest cheetah's face, sending him sprawling back into one of his friends.

As the injured cheetah rubbed his golden jaw, now marred with blood, another rushed forward though he stopped a fair ways short of reaching her. “What the hell?! What're you after us for?!”

“Stay away from him!” The girl threw herself between the pile of bullies before her and the cowering hatchling, still curled into a ball, her raised fists daring them to get closer. The oldest of them was smaller than her, and their apparent leader was still sprawled on the ground, so for the moment they gave her space.

“You're defending this kid?” one of them piped up from the ground. He didn't look much older than her sister had been. “Just look at him!”

She looked. The little pale blue dragon was not even three feet tall, far younger than Spyro had been. Light purple donned his chest and lavender scales mixed in with the blue that covered his body, like a pretty fish.

Those handsome features were now marred with bruises and blood as he trembled uncontrollably, still covering his face.

“Nothin's wrong with him,” she growled.

The young cheetah barked a laugh. “With those colours, he'll turn like Malefor soon enough, won't he?” He crossed his arms. “Us cheetahs need to stick together, before dragons like him destroy everything! That's what my dad said!”

Her eyes widened. That was all? Just because he had a little purple on him? She knew well that kids would make up any stupid reason to attack someone, but this kid had nothing to do with all that!

She drew her sword swiftly, a clear threat in the shine of her blade as she thrust it forward. “Touch him again, I dare you! Anything you do to him, you'll get it back times ten!”

The cheetah kids backed away with their fists raised, ready for a fight but not really sure they wanted to go up against a crazy, sword-wielding girl. Just then, their eyes flicked behind her to the Guardians who were swiftly approaching.

Recognizing the figures, one of them cried, “Let's get outta here!” In a moment, the three scurried over the wall and were gone.

The girl glared daggers after them until their tails disappeared over the barrier. The Guardians were prepared to drag her right out of there, but she pointedly ignored them, crouching down on one knee before the child.

“Are you alright?” she asked carefully, holding out her hand.

One eye, as shining and pale purple as his lavender scales, peeked out at her. It flicked to the Guardians who stood behind her, then to the sword still in her other hand. Tentatively, he unrolled from his porcupine ball and took her outstretched hand.

The brush of tiny claws in her palm lingered a moment as he stared up at her with wide, star-struck eyes. “Are you a Guardian?” the boy asked softly, his small voice reverent.

The girl couldn't help a hollow laugh. God, he sounded barely six years old. “No, just a traveller who gets mixed up in things she probably shouldn't.”

She closed her eyes, well aware of the looming presence behind her. “Don't let those kids scare you. What they're saying is a lie, okay? It isn't true at all.”

He looked up at her. Guardian or not, she was... nice. “Okay.”

The girl gazed at the patterned stone below her for a moment. It wasn't enough. She'd fought those kids off for now, but she knew well that they would just come back for more. And maybe the Guardians had a point in their detachment – she couldn't protect everyone all the time.

What had she needed, when she was in this kid's position, and hadn't gotten? Someone to be there for her, to fight for her? Or maybe, if she couldn't have that, just someone to tell her to stay strong...

When she spoke again, fire burned in her eyes. “There are many horrible people in this world.” Her voice rang unwavering. “You'll come to know that. But I promise you, the kind ones that you meet will make up for it.” She stood, sheathing her sword, and pointed at him. “Don't forget that.”

The little dragon looked silently after her as she turned and walked away with the Guardians, the group disappearing down the passage and leaving this alcove in the city's heart behind.

It was something she hadn't known was in her until the truth spilled from her soul. The people who had hurt her, countless in number. But having met the Guardians... Addison... And a few bright souls from her time on Earth, however few and far between...

It was enough.

She could only hope that she'd found the right words to make a difference, however small. That he would believe it, that he wouldn't forget.

They were a good distance away before anyone spoke. Though were leaving behind the shady passageway, they still walked a narrow side road with golden buildings rising up on either side.

“I think,” Terrador began, clearly exasperated, “you missed it when we said 'don't draw attention to yourself'.”

The girl glowered silently for a moment, but finally she burst. “I couldn't just let them hurt that kid! At least I didn't leave him there alone!”

“Sometimes it's better to avoid conflict,” Ignitus advised with a sigh, stepping out of the last patch of trees and into rich golden sunlight. “You could have easily blown your cover, and then...”

“I don't care about my cover!” she yelled, stamping her foot. At Ignitus' severe look, she lowered her voice. “You're supposed to be the Guardians, but I had to save that kid!” She threw her arms up, pacing around and ranting incoherently, “You should be telling me how great I am, how much of an influence I am on society, how I would make a good leader, blah blah blah!”

Volteer fumbled, “I-I, w-we don't mean to say that what you did was morally wrong, it's just that – there are priorities, things of most important consideration, prime concerns in this situation – ah, what I mean is, if all of Warfang learned your – your true nature, that would measure up to be of greater importance than... t-than fending off schoolyard bullies.”

The girl was about to argue, but she realized that Cyril, normally quick to regale the girl with all of her wrongdoings, was unusually silent. He walked on in front of the group, his expression stony.

The ice Guardian glanced back at her, and her eyes flicked to his chestplate – a rather bright, royal purple – then back up to him. Her expression changed as a few things clicked into place in her mind, and the normally proud dragon looked away.

“Malefor is all they know,” he said simply, resuming his walk. “There's no use trying to change that.”

For a few moments, the girl was silent, her conflicted stare on the ground. But her expression hardened.

“Everyone...” she whispered, then, raising her voice, “everyone turned away from me. When I needed help...” They were all looking at her with regretful understanding, but the words spilled out anyway. “They all just stared, or worse yet, they looked away.”

She clenched her hands, tears welling up in her eyes though her voice resounded strong and clear. “I will never turn away from someone who needs help.”

They all stood silent in Warfang's quiet depths before the girl quickly swiped at her tears and turned away. Before anyone could speak again, a band of important-looking creatures dressed in blue and gold robes rounded the corner.

Ignitus brushed a paw over the girl's shoulder to draw her attention, lingering just long enough to offer some unspoken sympathy, and they all turned to face the oncoming party. The girl, still bristling, kept her head down.

“Guardians!” a friendly-looking earth dragon cried, a jovial grin gracing his wide maw. “We thought you'd never make it, friends. I hope you had no trouble on the way here?”

“No, Kerridan,” Ignitus lied calmly. “The journey was peaceful.”

“Good to hear.” Kerridan nodded, his bronze eyes lighting up. “Ah! Of course you four already know Tyra.” He gestured to an ice dragoness with a serious expression. “But this is Tarrok. He was just appointed to the council.”

A cheetah in gaudy silk robes stepped forward, bowing. “Nice to meet you, Guardians.” His eyes, a vivid green, flicked to the girl. “We'd heard that you also brought another guest into the city?”

“Eyes and ears everywhere, huh?” the girl muttered under her breath. She winced as Cyril's tail lashed her from behind. Bowing as well, her back stinging, she said, “It's very nice to meet you, Tarrok.”

“We have had her under our protection for a while now,” Ignitus explained hastily, “but for her safety, we elected not to inform anyone before our journey to Warfang. The apes are searching for her.”

The cat's eyes narrowed and he stepped forward, ignoring Ignitus as he sharply examined her shadowed face. “You're not from Avalar, are you, child?”

The girl's eyes widened, a reaction she couldn't hide. He saw through her that easily? “N-no, sir. I'm from a village in the west. I-I suppose our customs are a bit different,” she stammered.

Tarrok prowled closer, taking her cloaked chin in his paw and ignoring her flinch. “You don't look like a cheetah.”

The girl quickly pulled away, backing up and taking the rest of her body with her. “I have no fur, sir. I was burned alive by the apes.”

Close enough to the truth, anyway, she thought, recalling the memory of the flames flaring up through wrenched-open metal to the sky. From fire, reborn.

“She is still recovering from that event. Not to mention she is just a child and this journey has taken its toll,” Ignitus jumped in, stepping between them, “so I would very much prefer it if we reached our new living place as soon as possible.”

Tarrok stepped back, eyes lingering on the girl for a moment, before turning with a flourish. “Very well. It's located in a quiet district near the wall, as you requested. Come, Guardians,” he didn't turn, but the girl felt as if his eyes were on her anyway, “and friends.”

Through the rest of the city they marched, though the girl was a bit less eager to see the sights. The towers now loomed threateningly, and the stolen glances at their procession seemed to be seeing right through her.

But the walk was short, and soon they stood before a magnificent stone and wood house that stood tall and alone just a bit away from the towering wall. A tamed, irrigated river ran through the district and a few hints of a garden peeked through the backyard. Curious mole soldiers peered down from the wall before continuing on with their patrols.

“Here we are,” Kerridan said cheerfully, but before he could continue, the girl pushed past the Guardians and stormed into the house, slamming the stately stone door behind her.

The earth dragon took one look at the closed door and at the Guardians' tired expressions, and burst out laughing. “Teenagers, eh?”

“Yes.” Ignitus sighed and stepped forward. “Thank you for the escort here.”

The envoy sent on its way – Tarrok took a long, long look at the house before he left – the four Guardians finally entered their new home. The girl stood fuming in the middle of the entry hall, her arms crossed.

“What was that?” Ignitus asked, too exhausted to add any edge to his voice.

Once the door was safely closed, the girl ripped off her face mask, revealing a stark grimace. Her eyes scanned the ground with a hint of embarrassment, but nonetheless she said defiantly, “I'm not a child.”

The fire Guardian had to sit down, lest he fall over. “Is that all?” he asked incredulously. Kerridan was right – it was impossible for him to understand the emotions of this teenage girl, that was for certain.

“I'm just agitated, that's all!” the girl exclaimed, wound up enough that she paced heatedly back and forth. “First I have to rescue a kid myself, and then that creepy Tarrok guy treats me like some sort of...”

She faltered, and the Guardians looked at her with curiosity. Lost for words, she threw up her hands. “I don't know! I just know that he's onto me!”

“Speaking of which,” Ignitus interjected, “that probably has something to do with your odd behaviour. The comment you made was sharp and unnecessary. Cheetahs do not open their mouths unless they have something of substance to say.”

“Something you could learn very well,” Cyril, who was off examining the living room, quipped.

“And you as well,” the fire Guardian shot back. Cyril closed his mouth with a click. “Also, storming off like that over a small issue was out of character as well.”

The girl huffed. “I'm a teenager! I have an excuse!”

“Be that as it may,” Terrador entered the conversation, “Tarrok is already suspicious of you, and for good reason. These small transgressions may be explained away, but if you make more mistakes, then he may force us to reveal your identity. Do not underestimate the council.”

The girl glared mutely at the ground until a sympathetic Volteer broke in too. “W-what we are saying is that, we understand that being in your position must be very difficult, trying to pretend to be – pose as – a-ah, masquerade as a creature with a different personality. But you must try to control your emotions and avoid outbursts or fights as you are prone to – ”

“I am not prone – ” Seeing them all looking at her, the girl drew a slow breath. Finally, she spoke evenly. “Forgive me, as I've spent my whole life suppressing my emotions, and perhaps this new freedom of expression has led to my unwarranted behaviour. I will do my very best to avoid such transgressions in the future.” She sighed and slumped, clutching her face.

“That was much better,” Ignitus complimented. “Don't you think that's easier than having an outburst?”

Unable to handle any more of this, the girl barged by him. “I want to punch something,” she grumbled, stomping heavily up the curved staircase at the edge of the living room.

At the top of the balcony, she clutched the banister and yelled down, “By the way, I'm not storming off, I'm just removing myself from the situation so I can avoid an outburst, as I positively cannot deal with all of you anymore!”

With that, she twirled around, short brown hair flying out, and disappeared down a hallway.

When the resounding thud of her footsteps had gone, all the Guardians let out a collective sigh. Cyril was eyeing the space where the child had been standing. “She reminds me of you, Ignitus. You used to be quite a spitfire yourself when you were young.”

“Don't remind me.” Ignitus exhaled deeply, finally rising from his slumped position on the floor. “Well then,” he said cheerily, “shall we get settled in?”

Chapter Text

Though the girl's anger flared up easily, she was a flighty, forgetful sort of child, and she never held onto grudges long. Soon after storming off, she found herself wandering down a long hallway lit brightly by a wide window at the far end. Seeing the cheery atmosphere, her frustration began to simmer down.

The hall was lined with six carved doorways leading into small, windowed bedrooms. Between them simple paintings of Warfang hung above small tables adorned with coloured cloths, leaving the room far from bare.

A long navy rug muffled her footsteps as she padded down the hallway, tracing her fingers over the smooth walls – so unlike the rough stonework of the Temple – and peered out the window.

The great wall ended the view abruptly, but a pretty, flowery backyard lay below. A little willow-like tree scattered feathery leaves over the ground, leaving the garden blanketed comfortably. Below it sat a carved stone bench surrounded by flower beds that for now lay mostly fallow.

The girl couldn't help but smile. She could definitely imagine herself spending a lot of time out there.

Finding herself standing between two open archways – dragon houses didn't have many actual doors, it seemed – her attention turned right. The moment she poked her head in, a gasp escaped her.

“A real bed!” she whispered aloud, dashing in, leaping right over the chest at the end, and throwing herself on it.

It wasn't quite like a human bed: more oval than rectangle, a wooden frame not quite as high off the floor, pillows lining the raised edges... And way too big for her. This world evidently hadn't invented springs yet either, as she didn't bounce nearly as much as she would have liked.

But, having spent most of her days in a pile of blankets – and, the past few days, the ground – she certainly wasn't complaining.

She rolled onto her back, grinning as she sank into the soft blankets like a cloud. Her gaze lifted to the window above a dark wooden desk, through which rich afternoon light poured lavishly in. Compared to human standards of mansions and manors, the house was fairly modest, but the girl felt as if she were living in the lap of luxury.

Her eyes fell shut, and she couldn't help but remember then the old room she'd shared with her sister. It was always dark and dirty with a thin, ratty blanket blocking out the daylight, two meager beds shoved into each corner, broken toys and trash scattered over the floor. So different from this airy room full of peace and light.

She'd have to go back there,someday.

Her heart sank so deep into her chest that it seemed to fall straight through the bed, and she sighed, pulling herself up. She was here for now, and she didn't know how to get back either. So there was little point in worrying.

Soft footsteps drew her attention as Ignitus, having given the girl a few minutes to cool down, turned the corner. “I see you've chosen your room,” he said, a slight smile at her messy hair and the rumpled blankets.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized that she may have hopped into someone else's bed. “I-I mean,” she stammered, “if that's alright with everyone, I don't mind if...!”

“It's alright,” he reassured. Seeing she had calmed down, he asked, “May I come in?”

The girl nodded and scooted to the edge of the bed, eyes averted in embarrassment as her scene from before was fresh in her memory. “Sorry for yelling at you. I didn't mean to lose my temper like that.”

Ignitus' head tilted as if in surprise. “You are forgiven, but I do not need an apology. All I need is for you to try to control your emotions and act more mature if you're to remain hidden safely here in Warfang. I know you have it in you, do you not?”

The girl didn't answer at first. Pushing herself up, she walked over to the window and gazed out over the empty garden. As the evening light began to wane, the illumination on her face was slight.

She sighed heavily, her voice carrying a burden she didn't know how to explain. “It's hard,” she said softly.

Ignitus gave her a sidelong glance. There were things she hadn't quite said, fragmented dreams and memories flowing out of her as she brushed by. The world she'd come from. The people in her past. He didn't know, but he knew better than to assume she'd come from typical circumstances.

And she wasn't just another kid. Despite the bravery she'd nurtured in her time here, she was a child misplaced by time and reality, a girl in way over her head. Mistakes may be made, tempers may be lost, but this was all new and she was doing her best.

“I understand,” he said simply. “But if I know you at all, then I know you can try.”

The girl looked up at him, realizing then how much she appreciated it... Having someone like him around, a sympathetic person who didn't give up on her even when she messed up and made childish mistakes. Someone to fill the gap so many people had left.

She'd never known what that was like before... But with him supporting her, she could be a better person, right?

A wide smile brightened her face, pouring light into her spirit. “I will try,” she said. “I'll do better from now on, I promise.” Gratefully, she bowed.

“Good.” He gave her a curious look. “Are you... practicing your acting?”

The girl blinked down at her closed hands. “Oh, I've just gotten into the habit. That's better anyway, I guess. Maybe I've spent so long pretending to be a cheetah that I've forgotten what it's like to be a human.” She laughed and slipped her gloves into her pocket. “I'm not sure if that's good or bad.”

“I suppose it depends on how you look at it,” Ignitus offered amiably, entertaining her odd speeches.

The girl, intending to explore her new home top to bottom, split off from him to peek into every bedroom. Finding them unfortunately identical, she left the hallway and found herself back on the balcony overlooking the living room.

Undaunted by the drop, she gazed down boldly over the stone guardrail. Great pillars held up the balcony she stood on, a living room below that was grand in size – to her at least. Odd furniture lined the walls with lower seats more suitable for dragons. Somewhere below, the Guardians' claws clicked on the shiny, bright floor.

The curiosities called to her, but next to her stood the first real door she'd seen outside the foyer, and she couldn't help herself. It opened into darkness, a windowless room with the sound of trickling water coming from within. As light crept in, she found the room mostly taken up by some sort of odd structure.

It was a wide stone enclosure with little walls that could be easily stepped over. She did, examining the contraption set into the opposite wall: a stone vessel with water pouring out of it, which splashed over a container of rocks and ran down to her feet. Holes drilled into the floor kept the water level little more than a puddle.

There was also a small tray filled with what looked like tiny brown berries or balls of resin. The girl plucked one out, examining it.

Ignitus, who had been doing some exploration of his own, glanced through the open door. The girl spotted him. “I saw something like this in the Temple too. What is it, some sort of fountain? A shrine...?”

He gave her a strange look. “It's a bath, of course. Did you not know that?” He gave her a once-over, but she was clean enough for having just trekked through a forest. There was no way she hadn't taken a single bath since she'd arrived, so where in the world had she been going?

“Oh.” She blinked. “I just went to the river...” She sighed, realizing that the thirty-minute trek had been entirely unnecessary. “I found some sort of soapy reed plant growing along the banks, so I figured that's what everyone did.”

Ignitus stepped in, placing a clear sheet she hadn't noticed over the drain and carelessly tossing in a translucent orb. The water slowly pooled around her feet, soap bubbles rising around the berry. “Then the water drains out through there,” he explained, pointing out a hole a few feet above the ground. “Did the human world not have baths...?”

“Of course we did!” The girl picked up a plastic sheet, allowing the water to escape before it stained her robe. “They just looked different. More, er... compact. What are those rocks for?”

Demonstrating, the Guardian breathed a stream of fire onto them. Steam rushed up, the emptying water turning fleetingly warm. The girl laughed and perched herself on the wall. “Well, I can't do that.”

Realizing this, Ignitus shook his head and dug around behind the bath, emerging with a fire striker and pointing out the door below the rocks that opened to a small stove.

The girl grinned and caught the striker he tossed at her, setting it down by the stove. “You're not going to tell me not to play with fire?” At his blank stare, she started. The amount of times she'd been told not to even look at a box of matches... and hadn't listened. Maybe with fire dragon hatchlings around, they were just used to everything going up in flames occasionally. “Well, I guess you have ice dragons for that...”

Ignitus wasn't really sure what she was talking about, but, having figured out all of the strange room's uses, she had already wandered off.

That was all of the top floor, so the girl skipped down the stairs, jumping the last two steps and landing with a satisfying thud. Cyril, who was resting at a table in the living room and had witnessed this affair, rolled his eyes. “Amazing acrobatics.”

She couldn't help laughing, but the smile soon slipped off her face. His dry mood was probably her fault... If nothing else, she should try to apologize. “Hey, I – I'm sorry for earlier – “

He cut her off with a raised paw before she could get far. “Yes, yes, it doesn't matter. You hardly inconvenienced me. But with that Tarrok lurking around, I'd worry about myself first.”

The girl smiled, knowing she had been forgiven. “Where's everyone else?”

“Out.” The ice dragon shrugged, settling deeper into the large blue cushion. “Probably sick of being cooped up in this place already.”

She headed over, sitting down across from him on a cushion that could fit five of her. A low table large enough for six adult dragons sat between them. “You guys seem like such good roommates, though,” she said cheerily.

“Oh, hardly. We can't stand each other.” Cyril grimaced. “Any friends will start to hate each other if forced to occupy a small space for too long. At least in the Temple, we could put some distance between each other.”

The girl fell back, staring at the high ceilings and distant walls even dragon-sized furniture couldn't fill. This living room was more like a ballroom... “But this house is so big!”

“For a small human like you, maybe.”

Grumbling, the girl rose to continue her exploration. The small entry hall spilled into this room, across from it a set of glass doors leading into the garden. She only peeked out, not ready to disguise herself again, before turning to poke her head into the dark yet magnificent fireplace – “What are you doing?” – and try out all the odd furniture.

When she was done there, she headed through the eastern doorway. What stood before her looked like a kitchen, but if the living room was foreign, this room was positively alien.

Counters and shelves lined every wall of the L-shaped room, just barely a comfortable height for her and mostly empty. Poking through a large pantry cupboard, she found all sorts of preserves with labels she couldn't read. There was what she could only assume was a stove, golden metal with a door on the front, but with all sorts of drawers and racks she couldn't figure out.

She had cooked quite a few meals for her and her sister – even if they usually boiled down to Spaghetti-Os in a pot – but an old fire stove was somewhat out of her forte. At least this time the striker was set on the top of the oven.

There was even a sink, though it was just a counter with a recess and a bucket sitting next to it. If she wanted to wash her hands, she'd have to do it the old-fashioned way... Or use the bath. Maybe they hadn't figured out how to make much more than a glorified fountain yet.

There didn't appear to be any sort of fridge at first, but as she cracked open a cupboard, she found herself staring into what seemed to be an icebox – though it sat warm and empty.

Well, she felt like a pioneer from the 1800s. All the magical contraptions in the Temple had made her forget that she was living in a civilization a few thousand years behind her own.

A tall window stood at the far end of the kitchen, and she peered out over the empty garden's overgrown paths. Afternoon light washed over it all, the great window hardly large enough to let all its dancing light in.

She'd love to go frolic in the garden, even if only a few sparse wildflowers grew there now, but it was getting late and all this poring over the house was making her tired. Her legs were still weary from the long journey.

But there was only one more room left to visit, a grand open doorway opposite the kitchen's own. Peeking in, she nearly gasped, all her exhaustion forgotten. As she'd been exploring the bedrooms, right below her feet... A library stacked ceiling to floor with bookshelves.

Gaps between the endless shelves let in gleaming sunlight from high-set windows, cupboards, likely stuffed with writing materials, filling them. And, as any library should have, there were plenty of comfortable places to sit and tables to work at.

Ignitus had wandered in here too. It was little surprise to her that he was quite the bookworm, and already a few dusty tomes had been displaced and sat in stacks waiting to be read.

The girl had to rend herself from her speechless state, skipping in and stopping on a pretty brown rug to look around for something she could read. But as beautiful as this rustic library was, it was rather useless to her if the labels in the pantry had been any indication.

Instead she turned her attention to Ignitus, who had settled down over a book so large she didn't think she could lift it. “Whatcha reading?”

“Hmm?” Ignitus looked up, not even noticing her come in. “Oh, I was just looking at it. It's a dictionary.”

The girl giggled and perched herself on a table, ignoring the Guardian's disapproving look. “You're reading a dictionary? I think Volteer would enjoy that more than you.”

Ignitus smiled wryly, but turned back to it. “'One who holds knowledge holds all the power'.”

“We have a saying like that,” the girl said, rolling her eyes. “But we just say 'knowledge is power'. It's a lot snappier. Can I see?”

She walked over and peered into the gargantuan book, but no matter how she squinted or craned her head, the squiggly dragon letters didn't form into anything she could parse.

Seeing her expression and her eyes roaming aimlessly over the page, Ignitus started. “You... can't read, can you?”

“Well, I can read!” The girl huffed, crossing her arms defensively. “It's just that we're speaking the same language, but the letters are all different.”

“How is that possible...” the Guardian asked, exasperated. “Well, we'll have to fix that. The council would be suspicious if they learned of this.” He rifled through a cupboard, papers crinkling as he added, “And everyone should know how to read.”

Truly a teacher at heart. “Oh good... school,” the girl quoted, grinning.

Ignitus froze, quickly shaking it off as he finished gathering up supplies. “How was it that you knew all these things about our world? It was a story?” He set some paper on the table and uncorked an inkwell, dipping his claw in it and setting to work on the alphabet in his neat, elegant hand.

“Um... It was like a story that you could watch and listen to, if that makes sense.” Video games may be a bit difficult to explain...

He didn't look up. “Like a play?”

“Well...” No, but close enough. “Kind of. It was about Spyro, which is why I don't have much to tell you that you haven't heard before.”

She squinted at the letters on the parchment, as practical and compact as the ones she knew but closer to calligraphy in their circles and curves. “That's an A?”

“What?” The Guardian held up his paw, finishing the delicate swerves of a V. “That's an I.”

The girl frowned and pointed to the next letter. “What is that then?”

“I, A, E, U, O... Then, T, Z, P – ”

“You mean 'A, E, I, O, U', and you put your vowels first? And why the weird order?” She picked up the paper, tilting it as if that would make it make more sense. “The way we say our alphabet is 'A, B, C'...”

Ignitus stared. “How... odd.”

“That's what I'm saying!”

By the end of the night, she was still struggling and the opening of the book she'd selected at random read to her like “Fhe pudh thgt Sjlida wus wjlkong dawm...” (“The letters all look the same!”), but she had made some progress at least.

Though once she realized that she would have to grapple with punctuation too, she promptly grabbed her book and left the library to go to bed.

That night, her first night in a new home, she lay in her soft bed tracing the letters on the cover of the dyed leather book. They were depressed slightly, like they'd been stamped in, but the title was short.

Carefully she spelled it out: F-O-R-I... No, F-O-R-E-S-T. Simple, but it felt like one of those titles that meant something more. Something deeper.

Just what I needed more of. She smirked to herself, stretching out her still-sore limbs. Staring up at the patterns the moonlight and shadow were making on her ceiling – the same scene she'd watched over and over again in her bed back on Earth – her smile faded.

She never left the forest. Even behind the walls of Warfang, behind the safety of another reality, the leafy canopy still hung over her head, a shoddy path stamped out before her, no other option but forward into the darkness.

It was a feeling that'd haunted her since she was a kid. She would often imagine a desolate, dark forest, stretching on across the whole world until it blocked out the sun. All alone she would walk, no birdsong to soften her step or flowers to guide her path. The trees stood vigil over nothing... Not even an adventurous blade of grass poking up through the dirt.

Just a sea of shadows. And a road to nowhere.

But now... When she imagined her forest, though it was as crushing and inescapable as ever... There were gaps in the sky, rare flowers pushing up with all their might to kiss the drops of moonlight, the softness of hidden life blooming between the shadows that remained. It was a little lighter.

And this time, she wasn't alone. If she turned around, she knew she would find the Guardians behind her. And that was what really made it brighter.

Maybe there was an end to this. Maybe, if she kept trying, she could find a path lit by this strange new hope. Maybe... if she just kept walking... she could escape her forest. She could finally feel the sunlight.

Chapter Text

She awoke suddenly from a pleasant, black dream and sat straight up in bed, the leather book warm with her body heat still clutched to her chest. The light had been dim and the dark sky still fighting to keep its colour when she'd fallen asleep, but now the moonlight filtering through her window was bright and blue.

Something drew her out of bed and brought her tip-toeing to the window. All was quiet, the garden bathed in the soft but steady light of waxing moons. Craning her head, she caught sight of a single mole guard patrolling the wall, torch in hand, but that was all.

Closing her eyes, she listened through the house's midnight quiet for anything but the faint snoring of the Guardians. Hearing nothing, she was quick to dress herself out of the wicker chest – not forgetting her sword – and pad cautiously down the hall.

As she peered at the indistinct, dark shapes in each room, they were all sound asleep, or at least they didn't stir at her passing.

The stone stairs were immune to creaking and rugs muffled her footsteps, so her escape was all but silent. Managing not to run face-first into Cyril this time, she made it safely to the front door.

There she paused with a gloved hand on the door handle, for once pausing to think things over. She'd learned better the last time she snuck off... But it was best to explore at night anyway, right? No one around to discover her secret, just her and the city...

As she opened the great front door and felt the first rush of night wind, still warm though summer was dying, she noted that they hadn't even locked it. There probably wasn't much serious crime around here. And without the possibility of getting shot or something, she felt much more confident with her sword strapped to her back than she would have on Earth.

Would the Guardians protest? She didn't know, but she wasn't going to ask. She felt safe enough, and it's not like they expected to keep her locked up in the house forever!

More than likely, she wouldn't encounter anyone out here.

The girl found herself wandering down a wide, magnificent street dotted with houses and gardens as grandiose as her own. The little irrigated canal danced on by the sandstone bricks, leading her on. Only a few candles burned in the windows; the rest were dark and silent.

It certainly wasn't as bright and dazzling as it had been during the day, but Warfang had its own quiet beauty at night.

She tried to keep an eye out for landmarks as she walked – a little park here, a tall stone monument there – since the last thing she needed was to get lost and wander around until the Guardians found her and got her in trouble. But mostly she let the sights take her.

The great wall ran on beside her the whole way, the stars above filling what of the grand horizon she could see over it. But she was coming up on one of the shorter walls that seemed to crisscross Warfang and separate the districts.

She'd seen guards using those as a vantage point... But now it was unoccupied. Why not her?

Vaulting up the stairs with the fresh exhilaration of being somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, she quickly headed towards the city's edge. Maybe she could get a peek into the other houses' gardens...

It was there, leaning on the little guard-wall and looking dreamily at a pretty moon-bathed garden overflowing with exotic flowers, that she realized she wasn't entirely alone.

The flicker of a light caught her eye, drawing her gaze up to the great wall not far away. A covered lantern with its dim glow, the silhouettes of several indistinguishable figures gathered around it. They were mere shadows in the night from down here, but she could hear now their soft chatter and stifled laughter.

And one of them was looking at her, a bit of firelight catching soft blue scales and an unreadable expression. It was a kid, probably not much older than she was, but staring with what seemed like pointed interest. Feeling awkward, the girl turned away.

“Hey – hey, wait!” Definitely a teenager. She stiffened, but his raised voice didn't sound angry, so she forced herself to turn around. “You – you're the one who helped my brother earlier today, aren't you?”

At that moment, the clouds lifted from the moons and the dragon's purple chestplate flashed in the light. She could see his face more clearly now, friendly, smiling. Not dangerous.

Shyly, she called up, “The kid that was being bullied by those cheetahs?”

Now the entire group was interested, all of them turning to face her. It was a diverse gathering; a cheetah, a mole, and another dragon all looked curiously down at her.

“That's Tyren,” the boy said, beaming. “Hey, wanna come up here?”

The girl hesitated. Shy as she was feeling... How had they all gotten up there, and what were they doing? “How?”

“Just come over here and give me your paw.”

Reluctant but far too curious to turn this opportunity down, she took the ice dragon's outstretched paw – and grabbed her hood before the wind as he hoisted her up tore it off her head. In a moment she found herself sitting among a strange group indeed.

A bit of food was laid out on a blanket, its centerpiece the lantern covered by translucent cloth. Gathered around it, all teenagers, there was the ice dragon, a serious-looking shadow dragon sitting off to the side, a dark blue cheetah with wide brown eyes, and a mole with cracked goggles and a goofy grin that seemed a permanent fixture.

Tyren's brother was already chattering away. “Tyren hasn't stopped talking about you, so I knew you as soon as I saw you. A mysterious cheetah dressed in all black? Who could miss you?”

Good to know I'm so noticeable... the girl thought in exasperation. She really needed to avoid calling attention to herself...

“Well...” he started, calling her attention back with a bright smile. “Welcome to the Meeting of Misfits.”

“Hear, hear,” the mole said, raising his glass.

Her smile was hidden under cloth. He reminds me of...

Memories flashed in the back of her mind. Dancing to distant, faded lights over the ocean, waves lapping at their feet. Nothing but them in all the world. Dreams of running away – flying away, into the sky, into the stars...

The girl shoved those rogue thoughts down as best she could. Not now. “What's that?”

“Ah,” the boy said, gesturing about his friends, “only the gathering of the best Warfang has to offer...”

“Shut up, Auren,” the mole laughed, slapping the ice dragon's side with a grin.

Auren shoved him back with his cheerful mood undeterred. “Anyone care to do an introduction for the new member? Strider?”

Perched elegantly on the edge of the wall, the shadow dragon seemed like a void against the stars. She looked silently at Auren, a queen-like air surrounding her.

Meanwhile, the mole shuffled over to where the girl sat timidly away from the others, pouring her a drink from an unlabelled bottle. “Strider's mute,” he explained in a soft, slightly accented voice, handing her a cracked cup. “No one knows where she comes from, but she fits right in with us. Just don't expect much in the way of conversation from her!”

She nodded, examining the clear bubbly liquid. “What's this?”

The mole winked. “Don't ask.”

“Ah, Cedric!” Auren popped up from seemingly out of nowhere, slinging a heavy foreleg around the mole and pulling him in. “What about you, buddy? Care to introduce yourself to your new girlfriend?”

Rolling his eyes, Cedric stood with a dramatic flourish and a hand over his heart. “Me? I'm just a nomad, unwanted by all, wandering the entire world and back again. I've walked across scorching deserts, climbed freezing mountains...”

“That's not true!” the cheetah cried, laughing.

Cedric shushed her. “After all these years of endless journeying, ever since I was just a little mole, I've finally settled in here in Warfang. Even now, no one will take me in, so I must steal every day to survive!”

“If you don't just mooch off our pantries, that is,” Auren quipped, taking a bite out of an apple.

Cedric's glasses glinted as he sat down with a huff. “Let a mole tell his story, sir!”

The girl couldn't help but laugh at their antics. She was beginning to get used to this odd little group.

Though maybe it was just the drink getting to her head – she'd carefully turned away to take a sip, and, screwing up her face, realized that dragons must take their alcohol bitter.

Someone tapped her shoulder; it was Auren again, always flitting about between them all. His eyes reminded her of a husky's, piercing bright blue, and though he lacked the shimmer of purple in his scales, she could see Tyren's face in his. “Want some?”

He was holding an orange – or more like a yellow – as big as her fist. “Oh, it's okay,” she started, thinking of Cedric's story. “I live with the Guardians, so there's a ton of food at home – ”

“Ah, just bring some next time, don't worry!” She barely managed to stop the orange from tumbling down the wall as he tossed it at her. He pitched a fruit at Strider too, who caught it effortlessly.

Next time... She'd gotten so comfortable, she forgot to think about that. About coming back, about really making friends here. She'd never had a group like this herself, but she found that she didn't dislike the idea.

Auren turned to the dark blue cheetah. “Serena?”

“Oh, me?” She laughed shyly; all her mannerisms seemed small and careful. “Nothin' special about me. I'm just an orphan. My parents brought me to live with my aunt here in Warfang before they went off to fight in the war, but then...” She shrugged. “They died, and the money ran out. Auntie still comes to visit, but she can't take me back. And the orphanage is horrible, so I sneak out whenever I can.”

Serena paused, a sadness briefly emerging from where she'd tucked it away. But in a moment it was gone, and with a bright smile she practically tackled Auren, dragging Strider and Cedric in for good measure. “I was really sad for a while, but then I found you guys!”

Auren grinned, clearly not minding this at all. “And me,” he said, with no less drama than Cedric. “I'm just a social outcast – banished, abhorred for my scales, cursed with that wretched colour purple!”

“Oh, woe is you,” Cedric called, leaning carelessly against Strider, who promptly shoved him off. The apple he was holding flew over the wall and into someone's backyard.

The ice dragon rolled his eyes, ignoring him. “To be honest, I didn't have a friend in the world for the longest time. But now, I've formed the most illustrious group known to dragonkind – and molekind, and cheetahkind – and our numbers grow every day!”

Serena snorted. “More like every year.”

“Shhh. So,” Auren turned to the girl, sitting again with his tail curled around him, “what's your story?”

The girl laughed, suddenly feeling self-conscious again. “Well... I'm – ”

“ – only the coolest kid in all of Warfang!” Serena interrupted, eyes sparkling. “I saw your fight from the orphanage. That was super brave; I never could have done that. What's your secret?”

Blinking, the girl smiled weakly. “I guess it hit a little too close to home to let it go.”

She opened her mouth to tell the fabricated tale, to make it into a funny story like they had, but something stopped her. Instead, it tumbled out: “My parents used to fight a lot. After Mom ran off, Dad started drinking more, and then...”

She stopped, realizing they were all looking at her with open curiosity. But at least they didn't seem to think she was crazy. Ignoring the heat creeping into her face, she continued, “I've always had to raise my sister, but at least Dad usually went after me instead. No one would help me, so I was on my own. And then...”

And then I died. If only she could tell the truth. “They died. Apes raided our village, killed everyone, burned me so bad I have to hide under all this stuff. The Guardians found me, and... Here I am.”

Even if it was only half a true story, saying it out loud... It felt like a weight off her. “As for Tyren,” she mumbled, “I've been in his position more than a few times. I didn't want anyone else to have to feel that way... Even if they're destined to be a misfit like me.”

“Like all of us.” It was quiet for a moment, and then Auren solemnly raised his glass. “A toast,” he said, the drink sparkling in the moonlight. His eyes were smiling, but his voice was serious. “Life sucks.”

The others lifted their drinks in agreement. “Life sucks.”

The solemnity passed, and soon the group was laughing and drinking again (though the girl poured hers over the edge when no one was looking). Soon, the growing moons were ambling towards the horizon and the sky was getting light.

By the time she noticed the hours slipping away, even the lantern's candle was burned down to almost the wick. She couldn't remember having this much fun just sitting around sharing stories. Not since...

A sharp voice cut through the air from way down the wall. “Hey, you kids! What're you doing up here?!”

“We forgot the rotation!” Auren hissed, jumping to his feet. A mole in shiny armour clanked towards them, waving his spear. “Scatter!”

Four pairs of paws shot out. Food disappeared; glasses and bottles were shoved in bags; the cloth was whipped up; someone grabbed the lantern. In a moment, everyone was gone.

Auren was the only one to stay, grabbing the girl's hand. The two of them jumped down to the shorter wall, slung themselves off it, and hit the ground with a thud.

The mole guard was still leaning over the wall and shouting down at them, but the duo ran off into the neighborhood and cut through backyard gardens. They didn't stop until they'd hit the end of the street, finally collapsing into a heap of laughter beneath the girl's house.

When their mirth faded, they lay sprawled out in the grass, desperately trying to catch their breaths. Eventually Auren managed to drag himself to his feet, the girl soon after.

“Well,” he chuckled, his voice taking on a theatrical tone as he bowed down, “here is where we must part.”

Catching on, the girl bowed deeply back, unable to hide the smirk screwing up her face. “When shall I see you again, good sir?”

“Any night you'd like. You know where to find us. Just keep it top” – he slunk up, tapping the her nose through the cloth – “secret.” Smiling broadly, he backed into the wall's shadow. “Farewell, Fighter Girl.”

She opened her mouth to ask about the nickname, but he was gone. As she lifted her head, she just caught sight of a silhouette blocking out the stars, soon lost to the night.

The girl was still smiling as she slid into the house and pulled her hood off, but as she stepped in a looming shadow rose from the room beyond. Her hand was halfway to her sword before she realized it was just a Guardian. She exhaled heavily, shutting the door with a click.

It wasn't hard to recognize the sizeable form even in the living room empty of moonlight. “Terrador? You startled me.” She grabbed a candle that sat on a shelf near the door and lit it, holding it up. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes,” he rumbled. “I heard you leave. I waited to be sure you came back safely before dawn.”

She squinted into the dark, but even with the candle, it was hard to tell his expression. And his voice betrayed as little as usual. “You're not mad, are you? I only snuck out because I didn't want to wake anyone up – I really thought it would be okay – ”

“It's alright,” he interrupted, holding up a paw. “I just wanted to make sure you made it home.”

The girl's apprehension faded. She headed towards the stairs, hopping up to sit on the banister. “Well, don't fuss over me; I was just taking a walk. Anyway, a made some friends...” She smiled to herself. “So don't worry.”

The Guardian nodded. If he had any opinions on this development, he didn't show them. “Just be careful.”

She slid around the banister, heading up the stairs, but paused a moment to look down at him. “Being careful is all I know.”

He didn't say anything, so she quickly continued her ascent. “Goodnight!”

Upon reaching her room, the girl threw herself into bed and rolled onto her back, snuggling into the cool blankets as she giggled with euphoria. She was making a life for herself here, not to mention...

It was an odd feeling, but it was nice to be worried over, to have people around who took notice of her absence. Like a family.

Times like this, alone in the dark, her mind would often wander back to the past. When she could leave the house, night or day, and only her sister would notice. When she waited for hours in the bathroom at school, but nobody missed her. And when she hid among the cliffs and caves on the beach, but nobody ever came looking.

It felt like she wasn't even real. Like if she stopped existing, nothing in the world would change at all.

But things were different now. If only in small ways, she had left her imprint in this world and a few of its people. People who missed her. People who cared.

Silly as it was, here in this fantasy world was where she was truly grounded in reality, where finally it felt like her life had made the tiniest difference.

It was something tangible. It was something real.

Smiling softly as she drifted off to sleep, the girl thought to herself, This is now.

Chapter Text

“...so why don't you tell me the truth about that kid, huh?”

The girl stopped at the top of the stairs, breath catching as the unpleasantly familiar voice reached her. But she couldn't help peering gingerly over the railing at the scene below.

Being on the short side, she couldn't quite see the house's entryway or the uninvited guest standing within. But she could just spy Ignitus' tail twitching in annoyance, not unlike a cat's.

“There is no truth to tell,” he said tiredly. Twitch. “She's a lost cheetah we stumbled upon near the Temple. She needed help and had no home to return to, so we took her under our protection. That is the end of the story.”

There was a snort. “Do you really think that I can't tell apart one of my own kind? I don't know who or what you have hiding under those robes, but you are up to something, and I know it! You may have only been here a week, but if I let that trickstress stay any longer – ”

At this the girl bristled. She'd done nothing wrong; all she wanted was a chance to live her life here!

Steeling herself, she threw up her hood and began stomping down the stairs with unnecessary volume. “Volteer, Cyril! I'm ready to go!”

By the time she reached the bottom, only a swish of blue robes and a slamming door marked the councilmember's exit. As Ignitus passed by, he nodded gratefully.

Cyril stepped out of the kitchen, looking like he hadn't gotten quite enough sleep. “What is all this racket about? You know we have to wait for the escort.” The great ice dragon sighed, placing himself heavily on the low couch. “I don't see why we even need to go to the market with that cheetah kid bringing us food every few days...”

“Then why,” said Ignitus, sitting down at the living room table, “are you going?”

“To keep an eye on those two!” Cyril exclaimed, pointing to Volteer who presently emerged from the library. “Let them wander off together, they'll be jabbering until sunset and come back with nothing anyhow!”

Volteer looked not at all perturbed, but before the girl could retort, there was a knock at the door. “Alright, children,” said Cyril, rising. “Let's go.”

“I am not a child,” Volteer and the girl said at the same time, though the latter with a bit more bite.

Cyril glanced her way as she finished pulling up her bandanna and donning gloves, noticing the sword belt slung over her chest. “Why are you bringing that along, anyway? Think there'll be apes raiding the market?”

The girl clutched the strap to her chest, looking offended. “It's mine.”

“Whatever.” He ambled over to the door, opening it.

On the other side stood a small army. With no small amusement the girl noticed that they were all lined up in perfect pairs by species, every one of them fidgeting nervously.

A mole decorated in ornamental golden armour approached the doorstep and bowed as deeply as someone of his stature could. “Greetings, most esteemed Guardians, we are here to escort you to – ”

“Yes, yes, yes.” With little care in the world, the ice Guardian brushed past him and the rest of the guards, stomping off towards the market on his own. “I've been fighting in this war since I was a bloody teenager; I didn't need a procession to buy some food.”

As the girl scurried quickly behind him, she was glad her face was masked, because she was having a hard time choking back her laughter at the guards' bewildered expressions.

Soon enough they were all tripping down the road, Cyril leading the charge and the poor guards scrambling to keep up. It was a particularly sunny day in the young autumn, so the streets seemed to radiate golden warmth that kept their spirits up.

And what an odd procession they were, two of the Guardians, their small cheetah charge cloaked in all black, and a small parade of soldiers marching behind them. Everyone stopped to look as they passed by.

It wasn't unlike the first day they came here, pointing and waves and even the occasional cheer. Though she knew it wasn't for her, the girl couldn't help but beam behind her mask at all the attention.

Something wasn't right, though. Every once in a while she'd glance back at the soldiers, and though many of them held similar starry-eyed expressions beneath their golden helmets...

They always quickly looked away before she could meet their eyes. They were watching her. Watching... them.

Sidling closer to the Guardians, she half-whispered, “Why do we need bodyguards at all?” Her eyes turned to the crowd of people, many looking on with bright, smiling expressions. “Everyone loves you.”

Not to mention the Guardians were more than capable of taking care of themselves...

Cyril snorted, but he kept his voice low. “The council just wants to keep an eye on us.”

The girl blinked, resisting the urge to turn around. “They would do that?”

Volteer looked thoughtfully down a moment. “Much of the council has never a–appreciated the Guardians very much, as due to both our secretive nature in our – I-I suppose, our order, and our occupation as actual defenders rather than simply being politicians...”

He stopped to take a breath. “We hold a position of power both symbolically, to the public, and literally, in matters of law. We are not bound to the council, and yet we are their most important allies.”

“So you seem like figureheads, but you have real power... without having to follow their rules?” The girl grinned. “No wonder Tarrok seems obsessed with finding something bad about me, since that wouldn't look good for you... This is almost as bad as human politics.”

“Exactly.” Volteer sighed. “Please keep an eye out for Tarrok. We Guardians care little for their – their politics, only for the best interests of the world. Councilpeople like him...”

“...Just make our lives harder,” Cyril cut in. “I'd rather be back in the fight again. No diplomatic idiocy. Cowering in Warfang while a war rages on... That's not the position of a true leader!”

“We must do what we must,” Volteer said sympathetically. “Right now, with Spyro missing, applying our brains to the war is a better strategy than applying our brawn...”

The girl stopped listening then. Though she often sat in quietly on their daily war-planning or practiced her reading on their important-sounding letters, the stratagem and nuances of it all was often lost on her.

The marketplace wasn't a long walk from their house, and soon they were swept into its crowds. The wide, circular plaza felt like a colosseum with the shops and buildings looming over it, all encircled by walls that many roads were trying desperately to push their way through.

Guards stood upon the walls and down on the sidewalks, watching over them with bored eyes. Little surprise that security was heightened here.

The crowd made way for them as they entered, but the cacophony didn't at all cease. With the constant movement in this sea of bodies, stares didn't linger as long here. Many people didn't even look at them.

As they walked, Cyril explained bartering to the girl. “They'll set the price too high,” he said, tossing her a small pouch filled with the tiny gems they used as currency. “Here, buy whatever you want. Try to knock them down.”

“What, you want me to do that?” she asked incredulously. “Back in my world we just have set prices...”

“How odd.”

Volteer chimed cheerfully in, “Haggling is a time-honoured tradition in Warfang, young one!”

Well, they had plenty of money, so it couldn't hurt to try... Though it mattered little, the girl put on her game face and approached the nearest vegetable stall.

It was manned by a gruff-looking mole half her height. Though he had to stand on a stool to even see over it, it didn't make him any less intimidating.

Clearing her throat nervously, she asked, “How much for those?” She pointed to the closest equivalent to a tomato they seemed to have, reddish-orange spheres with shiny skins.

The mole gave her a disinterested look. “Ten gems a piece, kid.”

There had been a farmer's market back home, so she wasn't entirely unfamiliar with this concept – though haggling there involved a lot of begging and her little sister making doe eyes, which she didn't think would get her far here.

Still, though. Her eyes narrowed. “Five gems.”

He gave her a stare not entirely empty of respect. “Most people wouldn't even try that. Nine gems.”

“Six gems.”

“Seven.”

“Six. Final offer.” The girl twirled the pouch around her finger, eyes smiling.

The shopkeeper considered for a moment, tapping his clawed little fingers on the wood, then grinned. “Hmph. Deal.”

As the girl walked away with her bag of tomatoes, beaming, Cyril stared. “You're a natural.” His usual pride couldn't mask the surprise.

The surge of serious confidence melted and the girl was back to her usual self again. “Really, you mean it?” she asked in wonder, eyes sparkling.

Cyril rolled his eyes, brushing her off. “What do we need those for again?”

“For tomato sauce. You put it on noodles.” The girl shook her head, looking about the busy plaza for a spice shop. “I can't believe you've never had spaghetti...”

“Tomatoes on noodles? Humans are strange.”

“It's really good!”

At that moment, the entire market erupted in a roar of confusion. The girl stumbled back into Cyril as people pushed past her, some running towards the source of panic and others away. She couldn't see over their heads what was happening, but above the crowd, a cry pierced the air: “Thief!”

Lucky her coming today only for this to happen... The crowd before them scrambled and then opened, a brown blur with a bulging bag shooting past the three of them.

The girl squinted at the figure. A brown blur with cracked glasses, a frayed black headband, and a grin plastered on his face like it was permanent...

“Cedric?” she asked incredulously. He took a sharp turn and rushed right past her, winking as he did so and leaving her gawking as he slipped into the crowd.

“You know that thief?” Cyril asked with a gape as Cedric reappeared at the edge of the market, rounded a corner, and disappeared.

The girl stared at the place he'd run off to. “You could say that...”

There was the sound of a scuffle from the corner where he'd gone, and a moment later a few guards rounded the bend, brandishing the bag and the squirming boy both aloft. The crowd cheered as they dragged him away.

And a moment later it was just about back to what it had been, people bustling around them and returning to their bartering, but the girl was unusually quiet. Looking at her pouch of gems, she held it out. “You said I could spend this on whatever I wanted, right? This is mine?”

Cyril stared at her a moment and sighed. “Technically, I did say that.”

“Well.” She looked towards where the guards had taken Cedric. “I know what I want to spend it on.”

~~...~~

“Come on, the kid has nowhere to go, no food. You can't blame him for stealing.”

The dingy entrance room to Warfang's small holding jail was sparsely furnished with a few seats and little else. Right now it was a blessing, as besides the two Guardians who themselves took up ample space, the entire escort had decided to cram itself into the room as well.

With the two guards standing by the locked door leading into the jail proper and looking on the girl with interest, it was quite the little courtroom. She could feel about a dozen pairs of eyes on her back, but she did her best to stand tall.

“The law is the law.” A bored-looking dragon in light armour gave the girl a disinterested stare from behind the desk, twirling a ring of keys in one paw as the other propped up his head. “No exceptions.”

The girl sighed; it was no use. “Okay. If I pay his fine, will you let him go?”

“He's a child,” the guard said flatly. “Family members only.”

“He doesn't have – ” She stopped herself then, glancing back in exasperation at the Guardians, who just shrugged. They probably had some power to throw around, but with the council on their tails right now, she wasn't going to ask.

Up to her, then. Putting on her game face again, she leaned forward. “I'm his cousin.”

The guard's eyebrows shot up. “You're... his cousin.”

“Twice removed,” she added quickly.

The dragon stared at her a moment, probably in disbelief that she was even trying such an obvious lie. But his impassive expression, like a sheet of ice, didn't shatter. His eyes flicked past her pleading gaze to the Guardians, then back to her.

Sighing, he tossed the keys to one of the guards. “Whatever, it's that brat's lucky day. Just get him out of our scales.”

Ten minutes later, Cedric, the girl, and her parade were standing outside the little jail, one pouch of gems lighter.

“Man,” the mole said, ignoring Cyril's glare as he shot his friend a cheeky grin. “We only just met a week ago, and already you're bailing me out of jail. Not even Auren will do that for me.”

She bopped him on the head, his smile not so much as faltering. “And that's the last time, too! You're on your own after this!”

“Ah, no worries.” Cedric smirked. “I won't get caught next time!”

He ran as the girl chased him off, yelling all the way. Rolling his eyes, Cyril turned and led Volteer and the guards down the street, leaving the two of them to their shenanigans.

Down the road a small garden broke up the rows of golden stone, and here they finally collapsed on the ground, laughing. The girl shot Cedric a glance he didn't seem to notice as he sat sprawled out in the grass, his cheerful expression pointed up at the cloudy sky.

Her smile faded. She did worry about him...

“Hey...” She sat up suddenly. “Do you want to stay with me and the Guardians tonight? Or – even for a while, if I could convince them?”

Cedric glanced at her, then flopped carelessly onto his back. “Nah, it's fine.”

She gave him a dubious look. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” For a moment the mole looked almost somber, but just as quickly he was as cheerful again as ever. “I'm a nomad, always have been. Scavenging, wandering, no place to call home and nothing ever permanent... That's just my way of life.”

The girl glanced at the road ahead, but the Guardians and soldiers seemed to be heading home without her. So the two of them sat quietly together as the sun rose further into the great blue sky.

She couldn't imagine that, really. Things and people changing around her, coming into her life only to slip through her fingers again... She'd always hated it.

That old rickety house on the coast, the deserted, rocky little beach she called home, the quiet town where she'd once lived... Even the school she'd called hell on earth... At least it was always there, predictable, the same. That was stability. It'd stopped her from going completely insane.

And now she'd spent so long with the Guardians, she couldn't help but hope that it would never change. That she'd wake up and every day would be just like this one. Even though...

She didn't want to think about what that meant.

“So...” the girl said after a while. “That means you'll leave Warfang someday, right?”

Cedric nodded quietly. “Someday.”

For a moment he was silent, thinking much more carefully than he ever seemed to. Finally he spoke, his glasses glinting as he turned them skyward. “But I like Warfang, and I like you and the group. So I'll stick around for a while. I've already been here a year, right?”

Cedric's smile was genuine, and she felt like he meant it.

Soon enough they parted ways, the girl gifting him a tomato since Volteer and Cyril had the rest of the food. By the time she caught up with the others, most of the guards seemed to have split off. They were back in the quieter parts of town again.

And they'd probably gotten enough dirt on her to last the council a lifetime... But she'd worry about that later.

As she skipped up behind them, taking her place next the the Guardians, Cyril gave her a look. “So where exactly did you meet such a ragamuffin?”

The girl snorted. “He's a misfit.” She looked down, the yellow bricks twisting and cracking beneath her feet. “Like me.”

“Hmph.” He shook his head, apparently dissatisfied with her answer, and turned back to the road. “You really know how to choose 'em, don't you?”

“Sure do. It's why I'm friends with you.” She couldn't help but snicker as Cyril shot her an insulted look, but before he could yell at her, she said quickly, “Anyway, it's more like they chose me...”

As they rounded the bend leading into their neighborhood, she could just see the spot where the smaller wall hit the great one, their gathering place. She smiled up at it.

It'd been a while since she'd attended the Meeting... The journey to Warfang had taken a lot out of her, adjusting to her new home even more so, and she was always too tired or too busy getting settled to stay up long past dark.

Plus, she was kind of scared to see them again. She'd never had very many friends, and it was odd to think that people might really like having her around. If she returned and they didn't want her...

The thought had been enough to make her wonder if she'd ever go back at all.

But now, remembering Cedric and his honest smile, it seemed like it was about time to pay a visit again. Maybe she wasn't just a fifth wheel to them. Maybe... As strange of an idea as it was... Maybe they really did like her.

Tonight, she thought, clutching the bag close to her chest. Auren's eyes as blue as the cold winter sky popped into her mind. I'll go again tonight.

She shot a covert glance at the bags strapped to Volteer and Cyril's backs. But first, she'd have to steal some food.

Chapter Text

The girl opened her eyes to the white ceiling, sighing and rolling onto her side. Outside the window, beyond the wall that filled most of its view, she could just catch a sliver of the great red moon rising. It was getting late.

Waiting here for the Guardians to go to bed, she hadn't been able to even nap – she was too afraid that she wouldn't wake up again before morning. But their soft voices still wafted faintly up the stairs, and there went the third guard patrol on the wall since she'd gone to bed.

Groaning softly, she sat up. She knew she was welcome to leave, but she did want to bring some food with her this time. Even if they didn't mind... She'd just rather not get caught red-handed.

Well, it was getting closer to midnight, and maybe even after all this stress and sleeplessness, they wouldn't be there at all. She at least had to go check so she could get some bloody sleep if not.

Standing and stretching, the girl grabbed her stuff and padded softly down the hall. If nothing else, she would see if she could possibly make it out unnoticed...

Her footsteps were soundless as they reached the stairs, but peeking over the railing, she saw only a small dancing candlelight coming from the library. Their voices were louder now, but far enough into the room that they probably wouldn't catch her sneaking off into the kitchen.

Ignitus' voice reached her clearly as she slid silently down the last few steps. “...as she told us would happen, reports say the apes' armies are thinning out, and the state of what few are left... Rotting flesh, exposed bones, missing eyes...” A pause. “Like they're decomposing alive.”

“Looks like she wasn't lying after all.” Cyril, as blunt as usual.

Talking about me? The girl rose slowly, peering over at the library, but all she could see was the dimly-lit row of books on its far wall.

Terrador spoke up far too close to the doorway, sending her scurrying into the kitchen. “I never doubted that much. She's described the past with perfect clarity, even quoting conversations no one could have witnessed...”

Enough eavesdropping; she was only going to get herself unwanted attention skulking around out there. As she headed for the pantries, their voices became muted and unintelligible again, but she could just catch some of what Ignitus was saying.

“...strange feats of nature... vines and tree roots curling themselves up into the images of monsters...”

Sounded like Malefor was finally putting together his new army. Far later than she expected, now in the final year of Spyro's absence... But hopefully they'd be ready for it this time.

When her raid on the cupboards was completed, a few fruits and pastries and other easily-eaten foods packed into a bag, the girl lifted her mask and prepared to make a hasty exit. But just as she stepped into the living room, the shadows in the library suddenly shifted.

As she backpedalled into the kitchen, she heard, “...enough for one night.”

“Finally. I'm bloody starving.”

Shit. Looking around frantically, the girl's eyes landed on the furthest walk-in pantry. With no other option, she dived in, closing the door swiftly behind her and ducking under the lowest shelf just in time to hear claws click on the kitchen floor.

As she scrambled into her hiding place, she managed to knock over a big metal jug of some drink with her foot. Snapping her arm out, she caught it just before it could clatter to the hard stone.

Her heart was pounding so hard she was trembling, but Cyril bumbled around the kitchen seemingly unaware. Cupboards slammed and cans clinked for far longer than comfortable or necessary, but finally he seemed to settle on a snack and the stomping about ceased.

She held her breath a few seconds longer before finally releasing it. But just as she began to crawl out from under the shelf...

“Don't you trust her?”

The girl froze, slowly lowering her outstretched arm. If she angled herself just right, she could spy a dim yellow form through a crack in the pantry door.

Cyril stood somewhere out of sight. When he didn't answer, she thought he might not be there at all.

But Volteer went on talking. “W-what I mean is, when she first came here you treated her with coldness, disinterest, contempt, but now you two seem to be – to be amiable friends, so I thought – ”

“It's not that I don't trust her.” As he paused the girl leaned in closer, knowing she shouldn't be listening but far too interested in what he had to say. “Well, the way she described it, she fell from the bloody sky! In a matter of life or death, trusting some strange child handing out so many important secrets...”

Silence fell. All she could hear was her own breathing until he finally spoke again. “To be honest, I believed she was making up stories just so she could stay with us. I let her get away with it, because – ”

“Cyril, she – ”

“Hush, hush. I don't have any ill feelings towards her anymore. She's already proven that what she tells us is the truth, so that's all there is to say about it.”

It was all quiet again after that. The girl stayed there for a few minutes, listening intently for a tell-tale sound that never came, but it seemed like they were gone. You'd think dragons would make a bit more noise...

She emerged from her hiding place and crept into the living room, but the library was dark and she couldn't hear anyone. Still, she slipped through the sliding glass door into the garden just to make as little noise as possible.

As she made her way into the streets all soft and glowing in the full moonlight, she thought about what Cyril had said. Even before she'd finally won him over, he said nothing about his presumption, because...?

Maybe she'd sized him up wrong back then. He'd been so cold to her, of course she'd thought that the last person on her side was Cyril. But maybe even he would have felt bad about sending a child off to die in the middle of a war.

Hard to believe after everything he'd said, but...

She didn't blame him back then, and she didn't hold a grudge now. It was just strange to think that the Guardian from long ago, so frigid and distant, and the person who entertained her teasing – the person she'd certainly call her friend now – were one and the same.

There'd been more to him than she had realized all those months ago. She was just glad she could see it in him now. She was glad that people could change.

Soon enough the girl was clambering up on the little wall that lead straight to the meeting place. Squinting up at it, she could just spy the warm glow of a lantern, distant voices carried to her on the wind. Looked like they were there after all.

Smiling, the girl slung her bag over her shoulder and trod forward until she could hear their voices clearly. But they were all too engrossed in their conversation to notice the girl standing below them.

The girl banged on the wall, laughing. “Hey, someone help me up!”

Cedric's cracked glasses were the first to appear over the edge, followed soon after by Serena's laughing face. The mole looked at his stubby arms and shrugged, so Serena dropped to her stomach and extended a paw.

She groaned as she hauled the girl up far enough for Cedric to take her bag and grab her other arm. “I thought you'd be lighter than that,” she gasped, out of breath. Seeing what little of the girl's alarmed expression she could, her eyes widened. “S-sorry! That was rude.”

That was one thing she hadn't considered... Hunter had seemed unusually acrobatic, so maybe cheetahs all had light bones. Well, nothing she could do about it; she was already small for her age.

The girl was still a bit winded from being hauled so roughly up onto the wall, and she nearly bumped into the mysterious shadow dragon. “Hey, Strider,” she said weakly, rubbing her sore arm. Strider nodded. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Fighter Girl!” She followed the claw pointed at her up to Auren's grin. She didn't realize how much she'd missed it.

“Do you have to call me that?” the girl asked, brushing stone dust off her cloak, but she was smiling.

Realizing there was one misfit too many today, her gaze fell to the little blue dragon pressed against Auren's side like he'd been glued there. With the flecks of lavender in his scales and wide purple eyes, it could be none other than...

“Tyren, is that you?” The girl smiled and leaned down. “How are you doing?” She couldn't help but notice with concern the mottled dark patches on his side that still hadn't faded.

The boy had been gazing at this intruder with distrust, but as soon as she spoke, his star-struck eyes widened. “You're the cheetah Guardian!”

“Whaaat? Are you really a Guardian?” Serena asked in wonder. “I thought only dragons could be!”

Before the girl could answer, Cedric piped up. “She was walking around with them in the market earlier! I couldn't believe my eyes when she and the bloody Guardians bailed me out of jail!”

Once the girl could get a word in edgewise, she opened her mouth to protest – then a sly grin overtook her. “Oh yeah... It was hard, you know, becoming a Guardian... They made me pass tests of intelligence, haul ten-ton bags of rocks through the swamp, drink boiling liquids, even fight to the death...”

They were all looking at her now with round eyes, clearly unsure whether to believe her or not. “But in the end, I passed, becoming the Guardian...” The girl stood and swiftly drew her sword, pointing it to the stars. “Of metal!”

The whole group burst out laughing. “Looks more like you should be the Guardian of refreshments...” Cedric was rifling through the girl's bag, brandishing the fruit and little pastries above his head. “Look at all this food!”

The Meeting was just as merry now as it had been that first night, laughter and revelry ringing out into the night as they play-fought over food. Once all the snacks had been dumped into a pile on the cloth and everyone had a handful, Auren spoke up.

“So I was thinking,” he began, drawing their attention with a lifted paw, “we're all friends, right? But to be honest, I have no idea what half of you even spend your time doing when you're not around! So, with the induction of two new members,” Auren ruffled his brother's head, “why not really get to know each other?'

“Aw, c'mon, we introduced ourselves when Fighta showed up,” Cedric drawled.

Is that really my nickname now... the girl thought in exasperation.

Auren sighed. “That was why we're here. It's not who we are.”

He sidled over to the girl who sat timidly a bit out of the way, throwing an arm over her shoulder before she could protest. “Fighter Girl here, she's a misfit because she has to wear this cloak... and because her parents sucked. But there's more to her than that...” He craned his head her way with a grin vibrant enough to make her breath catch. “Right?”

She blinked. “I...”

Auren hopped back to his spot before she could untangle her thoughts. “We may all be misfits,” he said seriously, “but that's what we are, not who we are.”

For a moment it was quiet, then Cedric sniffed loudly, pushing up his glasses to wipe his eyes. “That was beautiful, Aurie. Brings a tear to my eye.”

He rolled his eyes, undeterred. “So, since he is our newest member... Tyren, why don't you go first?” Seeing him staring up with big lavender eyes, Auren smiled gently. “Just tell us something about yourself, something you like. C'mon, bro.”

“Something I like?” Tyren considered this, held falling to the side as he hummed uncertainly – until his eyes lit up and his entire demeanour changed. “I really really really like watching the moles in the workshops, and when I go they give me metal pieces to build stuff with. Sometimes I go watch them make houses instead, then they give me bricks. Once I built a house out of bricks and I used a piece of wood for the roof, but then it fell on me and I had to go home because I was bleeding. Do you wanna see my scar? Oh, and I also really like drawing, and I like learning about science in school. Yesterday we learned about clouds. Did you know that clouds are actually just made of water? I've never flown that high so I didn't know that. And, and also I – ”

Auren clamped his brother's snout shut. “Okay, Tyr,” he snickered. “That'll do.”

The girl gaped at this outburst. That shy, quiet kid who had cowered on the ground and cried... Where had he gone? Who knew that there was so much curiosity and joy packed into this timid little dragon?

And those other kids had done this to him. She couldn't help but bristle at the thought. The girl knew well how that could affect you, but seeing this ray of sunlight smothered, only showing his true colours in a place like this...

All she wanted was to make sure it never happened again.

Serena raised a blue paw, drawing the girl out of her thoughts. The cheetah's arm was wrapped around a well-worn journal she hadn't noticed before.

“Can I go next?” she asked shyly. “I, well... I know I'm really timid, but I...” Her claws tightened on the journal as she clutched it to her chest. “I want to be a famous author! And, um, I... I don't want there to be a war ever again. So I'm going to write stories to help people accept each other.”

Everyone looked at her, but it was clear she was being sincere. After a moment of intense deliberation, she held her notebook out. “I'm writing a story. It's, uh... it's about a dragon who falls in love with an ape, and they meet in secret.”

Cedric let out a surprised scoff. “A dragon, falling for an ape? Really?'

Serena grimaced, her furious blush hardly visible through her cobalt fur. “I think a story like that could really help!”

Auren reached out and she hesitated before handing the notebook over. Despite his usual careless attitude, his face was serious as he skimmed through the pages. “This is really good,” he said after a while.

Serena had been fidgeting uncomfortably that whole long minute, but she looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“I think you should keep writing.” Auren offered an earnest smile. “Hey, I'd read it. I bet plenty of other people would too.”

Though her face remained as impassive as always, Strider, who had been reading during this conversation, gave the flustered Serena a claws-up.

Cedric took the notebook, closing the eye with the cracked lens as he read. After a minute, he handed it back to Serena with a shrug. “I guess it's alright, it's just a little mushy for me.”

“It's not that mushy...” Serena pouted. “You'd have to read the whole thing to understand...”

Auren was quick to cut in. “Alright then Cedric, so what's your special talent?'

He had propped himself up on a bag, arms crossed lazily behind his head. “I'll have you know that I'm quite the talented musician.”

At that, they all laughed. “You, a musician?” Auren snickered.

“I always thought that lute you carried around was just for show,” Serena said with a smile.

Sighing dramatically, Cedric unhooked the lute strapped to his bag like he'd done it a hundred times before. Laying back again, eyes closed, he proceeded to effortlessly play a jaunty, dancy tune that shut them all up immediately. Tyren caught on and clapped along to the music.

When he was done, Cedric rested the instrument that was bigger than he was on his lap. “I can dance, sing, and play the flute too,” he said carelessly, smirking, “but that I only do for paying customers.”

“Where did you learn that?” Serena asked in wonder, applauding.

Cedric shrugged. “Taught myself. It kept me entertained on the long days of walking. And the other travellers thought it was funny, seeing a little mole kid dancing and playing the lute, so they'd hand over food or money.”

The girl noticed then the age of the instrument – at a first glance, it was shiny with polish and well-maintained. But scars covered it: scuffs, dents, and even scorch marks. Everyone had teased him for his tales of long journeys, but it was certainly the truth... He'd probably found that in some old burned-down village.

The group took a short break to catch up on the snacks, and soon they were all laying around languidly with full stomachs. Which was quite unfortunate, as Auren soon popped his head up and squinted into the darkness.

“Guards!” he hissed, spying a squat shadow rounding the city's near corner. It was far enough that they wouldn't be noticed right away, but the armoured mole was headed right for them.

Everyone else sat up, scrambling to snatch up the food and extinguish the lantern. Auren took the girl's hand, and together they all hopped down onto the lower wall.

They stayed there huddled into a tight circle as they waited for the coast to clear. Pressed up against the great wall, the only thing the girl could hear was their shallow breathing – and they all held their breath as the mole's footsteps went right over their head.

The flickering torchlight stopped for a moment, just illuminating six glittering pairs of eyes turned upward. “Huh?”

Everyone tensed, preparing to scatter, but nothing happened. A moment later, an apple core sailed over the wall, bonking off the glowering Cedric's head and landing in the street.

Cedric grumbled under his breath and sunk his claws into the bricks, preparing to climb right up there and show the guard what for. Auren grabbed him just in time, stifling a laugh as he hauled the struggling mole back down.

Once the guard had gone, they all gradually returned to their spot on the wall. From what the girl had seen watching the patrols tonight, they'd be safe now for at least the next hour or two.

“Now that that's done,” Auren said, his normally attention-commanding voice a little lower, “we can continue the circle.” Which landed right on him. He hummed aloud, tapping his claws on the bricks. “Well, I'm not all that interesting...”

“But you're the funniest out of all of us!” Serena complimented. “You're like a star.”

She certainly wasn't wrong. Of all the misfits, Auren's smile shone brightest – and he seemed like the closest thing to a leader they had.

Auren smiled, flattered. “To be honest,” he said, lounging back with a lazy grin, “I don't really know what I want to do with my life. I don't think someone like me could change the world, and I don't plan on dying in combat...”

“You could be a guard,” the girl teased.

“How dare you.” He shot a smirk her way, shaking his head. “Well, I used to live by the ocean, but my mom moved us here when...” He hesitated. “The war got too bad.”

Tyren, still stuck to his brother's side, craned his head up. “I don't remember that.”

Auren ruffled Tyren's scales again, though his forced smile seemed somber somehow. “You were just a hatchling, kiddo. Anyway, I'll probably never be of much use to anyone, so I guess my only goal in life is to move back there when this is all over. I miss the ocean.”

With his tale done, his eyes fell on the girl now. “So, Fighter Girl, it's your turn.”

She'd been silent all this time, listening to the others' stories with rapt interest – and desperately trying to think of her own story to tell. Because the truth was... she had no idea what to say.

Tyren, Serena, Cedric, they all were out here creating so many beautiful things. And Auren was probably underselling himself, but at least he had his brother to take care of, and at least there was something he knew he wanted.

What did she have except a story she couldn't tell? A story that didn't belong to this cheetah orphan sitting before them...

What did she have that she loved? How could she put it into words?

Trying to stall, her eyes landed on Strider. The black dragon was sitting serenely at the lanternlight's edge, eyes closed. Much like her, she seemed content to just be here, listening. But still... “What about Strider?”

One curious silver eye opened, peeking at her. Cedric piped up, “Dunno if you missed the memo, Fighter, but Strider can't talk.”

“Well...” The girl crossed her arms, pouting. “Just because she can't tell us what they are doesn't mean she doesn't have interests and dreams like the rest of us... Right, Strider?”

Now both grey eyes were on her. Though her expression had shifted, it was still indiscernible. The girl couldn't help but fidget; that unreadable stare was calm, but it seemed to bore right through her.

But she was too far in to turn back now, so she plunged forward undeterred. “Maybe you like... Writing? Reading? Dancing, storytelling, fighting, cooking?”

Strider only shook her head, but she seemed to be entertaining this game at least. The other misfits stared on as she listed off every hobby she could think of. “Maybe – maybe you like drawing?”

Finally, the shadow dragon gave a slight, imperceptible nod. The girl beamed, relieved that she'd finally stumbled on the right answer. “Do you have any you can show us?”

Strider hesitated, clearly conflicted. “You don't have to,” the girl said quickly. “It's good enough just to know something about you – ”

A raised paw stopped her, and Strider slowly opened the little grey bag that had been resting next to her. With a careful paw she removed a few pieces of worn paper, creased at the edges, and handed them to the girl.

She examined each of them at length, so engrossed she forgot to even pass them around until she had Cedric and Auren pressing up on either side of her to get a look.

“This is great...” she said softly in shock.

When the girl looked up from the drawings to the forest on one side and the city on the other, she almost couldn't tell the difference. Every tiny leaf had been given proper attention, carefully detailed faces staring back at her like they might jump off the page and go about their business.

What stood out, though, were the pictures of the group, every personality perfectly captured. One was of Cedric laughing, rolled on his side with his mouth open wide. Even the tiny spiderweb cracks in his glasses were there. Another, Auren's signature toothy grin, eyebrows raised, every scale shiny and shaded.

And the last drawing in her hands... It was of the night she came here. Despite her shadowed face, she felt like she was staring at a mirror of herself. Apprehension brimming with curiosity radiated from the page...

Just the way she'd been feeling that night, staring at this group of tight-knit friends, wondering if they'd let her in.

The others passed around the papers almost reverently, in awe of learning even the smallest detail about secretive, silent Strider. Finally, they gathered them up and handed them back, dumbstruck themselves. The drawings disappeared into Strider's bag and she returned to her usual curled-up ball.

“Wow.” Cedric was the first to find his voice, and he slapped his furry leg for emphasis. “Who knew Strider was a talented artist!”

Serena's large brown eyes were full of wonder. “Art like that can talk for you, Strider! That was amazing!”

Though she turned away from the lantern's glow, her face wreathed in shadows, Strider seemed to be smiling contently.

The girl only had a moment to bask in her success. “Hey, Fighter... Strider's art may be great, but don't think we've forgotten about you.” Auren grinned at her, more than wise to her plan. “C'mon, let's hear it. Tell us something about you!”

Of course that obvious plan had failed... The girl looked between their expectant faces, still at a loss for words. “Um... Well...”

When they had asked her about her past, about what made her a misfit... That had been easy to answer. She'd always been an outcast, lost in her father's shadow.

The abused girl, the bullied girl, the almost-runaway. The kid who sat in the back of the class, ate alone at lunch, had no friends. It defined her. It had killed her.

Even in this world, it lingered. It was why she'd thought about running away from the Guardians, though back then they really had been trying – even Cyril. It was why she almost didn't come back here.

We may all be misfits, but that's what we are, not who we are. The girl looked down. If Auren really believed that there could be more to her than just that, forever, unending...

“I love the ocean too,” she started, a tentative smile slowly growing on her face. “I always spent time at the beach, exploring the caves at low tide. And I loved to pick up sea glass. When I was little, I pretended they were gems.”

“I like those,” Auren agreed. “Finding shells with crabs in them was better, though. I kept them as pets... until they died.”

“Meanie.” The girl stuck out her tongue. “And... I loved my sister. She was my world, really. We always spent all day together, though she liked the town better than the beach. But these days... I like reading, and I like fighting and sparring when I can.”

It was only a few things, but it was enough. Enough to make her a real person, more than just her past. “That's all, I think.”

“Hey,” Cedric laughed. “Here I thought you and Strider were so mysterious.”

Auren pushed the mole, shooting a pleased grin the girl's way. “See? It's not so hard.”

It really wasn't, was it? The girl couldn't help the warmth that filled her chest and brought a smile to her flushed cheeks.

Maybe she couldn't change the world like Serena. She couldn't create beautiful things like Strider or Cedric. And in the end, she was just one person, and her presence in this world wasn't going to change much.

But maybe she wasn't meant to – to be a hero, someone the entire world looked up to, who made an impact that changed history. But that didn't mean she couldn't be something.

She didn't have to be the girl with the abusive father, the girl with no friends, the girl who no one loved. All those bad things that had happened... They meant nothing to who she was now. Who she would become in spite of it.

Because she had the power to change, to create something beautiful of her own.

She would be the girl who loved the ocean, submerged herself without fear into the calm sea while others watched from the shore. The girl who adored her sister, revolved around her like the sun, and would do anything – anything in the world to keep her safe. The girl who chose to dream and live and thrive despite this harsh reality. The Fighter Girl who could take down anyone who tried to stop her.

She looked between these cheerful, laughing faces with the new wonder of a child. Auren, Tyren, and Cedric huddled together, friends despite their differences, despite all they'd been through. Serena laughed at their antics, a shy cheetah who found a family for herself when she lost the only one she had. Strider lay peacefully at the edge, someone who couldn't speak and yet, had made it to a place where everyone could understand her.

And herself, a girl lost in time. A girl who had wandered into this world uninvited and still somehow found a place where she belonged.

It was something she'd never had before. But it was here, it was now, and it was bright and real.

This was the beautiful thing she had created. Something like a picture, like a story, like a song. Timeless and infinite in its beauty, but unique and all her own. Something she had held her hand out and taken for herself, for once without fear, without regret.

Auren, seeing her gazing fondly at them, held out a paw. Beaming, she took it, and he pulled her laughing into the group. All together, they were like a light of hope, a beacon of the future.

And she knew now. This one small thing, this beautiful thing that she had been searching for so long, it proved it.

She could be more. And all she had to do was reach out her arm and take it.

Chapter Text

“Look at the lights – pretty, isn't it? This is my favourite spot. Every summer the carnival comes around and I watch the lights from here. When I was a kid, I pretended that they were fairies who only visited Earth once a year.”

“That's just like you. But you know, I think I'd rather be at the carnival...”

“Shut up! This is good too.”

“Why just watch? Why not actually go? Lily would like it, you know.”

“...You know why.”

“Sorry. I know.”

“It's a whole town over. How would we even get there? And if we didn't make it back in time – if he found out, then – ”

“Hey.” Firm hands on her shoulder, silencing her. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Quiet overtakes them. The world is anything but. Distant chirping, the soft purr of the ocean, waves lapping at their feet, moonlight falling into the dark. Alive around her, eternal.

“E... I'm leaving.”

A single sentence stops the Earth and puts out the stars. The universe draws its breath.

“Where are you going?”

“It's a secret.”

“I – I thought we had more time.”

His eyes, burning blue fire. “Eventually, we all run out of time.”

She chokes out a laugh. “Don't be so dramatic, dummy.”

“Will you come with me?”

She can't answer. She has no words.

“Think of it. You, me, and Lily. We'll run away; let's take her and go. We'll get a place, some fake IDs, jobs, get her in a good school – ”

“I can't. Maybe they wouldn't look too hard for just the two of us. But with a little kid... They'll never stop searching. And I'm not leaving her with Dad.”

The fires dim, smoldering. “I understand. Well... I'll just have to come back when I have a good hiding place. Do you believe me?”

“I do.”

Together entwined, fading into the wet rock and the shadows and the reflection of stars. Nothing matters but this moment, now. For a short while, the world waits.

“Don't go.”

“Hmm? You miss me already?” His laugh is like a song echoing into eternity. “I have to. You know that.”

“I know.”

“But – listen a second, okay? No matter where I go, no matter what happens to me, I won't forget about you and Lily. I promise, E, I promise...”

…

“I'll come back for you.”

She startled awake, jolting up in bed only to clutch her skull as a wave of dizziness washed over her. When her vision finally cleared, it fell on the block of warm mid-morning sunlight filtering in through the window. Dust particles danced in the light, settling in her nest of dark hair.

It was the same dream every night now. Not quite the sentient nightmares that plagued her when she first came to this world, but the same sort of memories haunting her, pulling her into the past.

Shakily she stood, mindlessly grabbing clothes out of her chest and padding down the hall on weak legs. The Guardians were often up earlier and she could hear them on the floor below. She stumbled into the bathroom, shutting their voices out and the memories with them.

For now, her mind was quiet again. She set her clothes on one of the wood benches lining the walls and sank down with them. The council sent a young cheetah named Moira every few days with supplies, and among other treats she often brought her new robes.

Still exhausted, the girl idly fingered the silky blue and silver cloth while the bath ran, trying not to think. Though she'd slept through the night, it felt like she'd barely managed an hour.

Two mirrors lined parallel walls, and she stumbled into one as she stood, leaning her forehead on the cool glass. When she finally managed to lift her head, her reflection stared back, the watercolour girl who looked so much older.

How long had it been? Three months? Four? Time slipped through her fingers like water; she couldn't hold on to it.

It wouldn't make any difference if she'd been here for years. She couldn't remember who she used to be.

I'll come back for you. His voice was no longer filled with warm sincerity. It was taunting.

She wanted to laugh, but she knew if the Guardians heard her giggling in the bathroom they'd think she'd completely lost it. “Liar,” she whispered, watching her mouth curl into a bitter, hollow smile. Then, turning, she submerged herself into the depths.

The warm, soapy water soothed the encroaching memories at least. She stayed there for quite a while, feeling like she was untethered and floating away. No longer human. No longer anything.

Suddenly, three sharp raps startled her out of her reverie and she sat straight up with a splash.

“Come on, kid, we're all waiting for you!” It was Cyril, sounding annoyed but only somewhat more than usual. “Is it really necessary to take a bath every day first thing in the morning? We already set back our breakfast time to wait for you to remove your head from your pillow...”

The girl relaxed back into the water, still a bit spooked. “I told you not to do that...”

Dragons, she'd learned, were surprisingly social creatures. They often refused to eat without the entire party present – something she'd learned only after getting a few odd looks for scarfing down her food immediately upon receiving it.

“Go ahead and start without me,” she called, sitting up and stretching. “I'll be out in just a minute, so please don't wait on me.” She heard grumbling, but he retreated.

A few minutes later, she slipped into the cool air, her robes feeling soft and new on her skin. She felt a little better at least. From now on, she had to leave those bad thoughts in the past where they belonged... Only the present mattered right now.

Sliding down the banister, the girl landed in the living room where the Guardians were waiting for her. They hadn't started breakfast without her after all, but she didn't comment.

“Good morning,” she yawned out with her usual cheerful energy. She couldn't help making a face as her gaze fell on the bowls set out before them. “Spaghetti for breakfast...?”

“Is that not how it's served?” Volteer asked. “As a versatile meal, it can be assumed that this dish is suitable for breakfast, lunch, dinner, as a snack... Is this incorrect?”

“Erm...” Hiding her smirk, she said, “No, no, of course not, spaghetti is a great breakfast food... And just wait until you hear about pizza.”

“Well, we were going to have fruit as usual, but much of it was missing...” Ignitus mused.

The girl nearly choked, but she quickly put on a poker face and plopped down in her spot. But the moment her knees touched the cushion, she realized that she'd forgotten her book. She'd been squeezing her studies into every free moment she had, including mealtimes.

“I forgot something,” she said, standing. “I'll be right back. And start without me this time, okay?”

If the girl had walked down the stairs like a normal person, or perhaps if she hadn't stopped to chastise the Guardians, her story may have gone in a very different direction. Tarrok, who was peeking through the window where she stood just out of sight, would have seen her human face as she walked by and all would have been lost.

As it was, the shifty cheetah leaned away just in time and rapped harshly on the door. Looking around in a panic, the girl fell back into her seat and assembled her usual disguise in a moment.

She realized only after Terrador opened the door that she had forgotten to put her gloves on. Not knowing what else to do, she shoved her hands under her legs and hoped she didn't look too weird.

As the unwanted guest stepped in, the girl saw with complete incredulity that it was Tarrok, her “arch nemesis”, standing before her with his arms full of groceries. Not sure what to even say about this development, she could only choke out, “Where's Moira?”

“The cheetah servant?” Tarrok asked dismissively. “I decided to pay all of you a visit, so I gave her the day off.”

And here I thought you were keeping her in your dungeon... The girl glanced over at the Guardians, amused to find Ignitus clearly biting his tongue to keep the smile off his face.

“Would you like to join us for breakfast?” Cyril asked, his tone of voice indicating that he was clearly wishing he would not join them for breakfast.

Tarrok set the bags in the kitchen. “Of course.”

A few minutes later, a cushion had been dragged out of the library and they were all sitting a bit too squished together. The girl sneaked her gloves on under the low table the moment Tarrok sat down across from her, and soon they were eating in awkward silence.

To her credit, the girl did her best to be pleasant, offering a timid good-morning that was met with a curt nod. But she felt a lot better once Tarrok and the Guardians were discussing the boring politics stuff she often tuned out of.

Though she quickly realized that it would be impossible to eat with a bandanna covering her face, so she sat there awkwardly hoping no one noticed her food getting cold.

“Child, why aren't you eating?”

She wasn't exactly surprised, but Tarrok's sharp voice and critical gaze still made her jump. “Uh... I've just been feeling a bit sick lately is all.”

“Ah,” the councilmember said snidely, “just like the Guardians to bring a sickly child into Warfang. I hope you haven't infected anyone else with your illness.”

The girl blinked and leaned over to Terrador, who was sitting next to her and looking as measuredly unhappy to be socializing as usual. “Have you done this before...?”

“A few times,” he whispered back.

So she wasn't the first one. That was... interesting. No wonder people seemed to easily accept her as someone under the Guardians' protection. She wondered what had become of the other children, though she realized that it was probably best not to ask.

The breakfast wore unpleasantly on, getting more painful and uncomfortable by the second – and Tarrok's quips weren't helping. Finally, the girl snapped suddenly to her feet.

“I,” she said stiltedly, jerking her head at Ignitus, “am going... to get... my book. I will return shortly.”

When the girl had climbed the stairs and was waiting out of sight in the hall, Ignitus rose. “It seems I've forgotten something as well,” he said, beating a hasty retreat.

Once he was standing before her, the girl immediately erupted into a whispered rant. “What,” she hissed, pacing frantically around, “am I supposed to do? He is so. Creepy. And he won't leave me alone! I'm trying to be nice to him but god is it hard when he's constantly picking on me!”

“Just try to act natural,” Ignitus said tiredly, heading into his room to find some reading material that might make this encounter less painful.

The girl's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Act natural?! I am acting natural! Tarrok's the insane paranoid one, not me!”

Ignitus sighed, clearly no less conflicted than her. “There may be no convincing Tarrok. You'll just have to do your best to make a good impression, and do not give in to anger despite any coldness he may show you.”

He continued his trek down the stairs, leaving her alone. Groaning, the girl threw her arms up and spun around. Snatching the book from her desk, she stopped sharply in the hall, took a deep breath, and walked down the stairs with all the calm energy she could muster.

Flashing her book with a weak smile, the girl nearly plopped down unceremoniously on the cushion before she caught herself and carefully lowered onto it. She was prepared to begin reading when Tarrok spoke up. “What book is that?”

Her dismay at being addressed by him faded as she looked up in surprise. He was... interested? “Um... It's a novel, Forest. It's about a kid who's kidnapped and escapes, but she's alone in the middle of a massive forest, and...” Catching herself before she could start rambling, she quickly shut her mouth.

Tarrok leaned forward, his vivid green eyes narrowing. “Sounds interesting. Why don't you read a chapter out loud for us?”

“Out...” Her eyes widened. “Loud?”

“I mean, any cheetah can read...” As Tarrok flashed sharp teeth at her, the girl felt like a mouse caught in his trap. “Right?”

The girl stared in unbridled panic for a moment, eyes snapping down to her book. The letters she barely knew were blurring together, looking like tiny alien hieroglyphics on the page.

But this was her chance to prove herself.

Slowly, she raised her head, determination in her eyes. “R... right. Of course. Shall I start over, or,” she leaned forward as well, “do you think you can follow along?”

Tarrok held her gaze for a moment, well aware of this challenge, then turned away. “From the beginning, if you will.”

The girl exchanged glances with the Guardians. They all stared at her, curious to see if she'd be able to pull it off – and Ignitus, who was most familiar with her studies, didn't look entirely sure. None of them did.

Placing the book firmly on the table, she turned back to the first page, to the sentences she'd spent so long poring over. “Sjilda... was talk – walking... through the woods one – one day...”

Her words were far too hesitant, and Tarrok sighed dramatically. “What's the matter? You act like you just learned how to read...” He was staring at her intensely.

“Like I said, I'm sick,” she snapped.

Biting her tongue to placate her temper, the girl squinted at the page. She realized then that no, she wasn't going to be able to do it. All of a sudden, she'd forgotten her letters, and she had about two seconds to figure something out before the silence got too long.

At that moment, the girl straightened and, pointedly running her fingers under the lines, read with no stutter or pause whatsoever, “Sjilda was walking through the woods one day when she realized that she was not alone. In fact, the ten-year-old mused, she was almost certainly being followed. Being an intelligent, inventive sort of child...”

Tarrok fumed silently as he was forced to listen to the adventures of Sjilda. Terrador for one had no idea what she had done; he was well aware of the girl's daily struggle with the difference between T and Z.

That is, until he glanced down at the book and realized that the words she was reading did not at all match the words on the page.

“...But Sjilda realized, looking all around her, that she was alone. Alone in the endless forest, with no path and nothing around her but the trees that reached to the sky and the shadows that stretched along the ground. So, picking a direction, she began walking.” With that, the girl shut the book, smiling smugly at Tarrok.

The cheetah was clearly containing his irritation. “Thank you,” he said flatly. “That was very refreshing. Unfortunately, I feel that I should get to the point of my visit.”

Tarrok seemed to relish in the concerned silence as all eyes turned to him. When the moment had stretched on long enough, his gaze fell on the girl who he studied with cold detachment. “I recently discovered that a few weeks ago, three of you were involved with the release of a thief from prison.”

So there was his game plan. The girl crossed her arms. “That would be my friend, Cedric.”

“We're all aware of what happened that day,” Ignitus said coolly, but Tarrok ignored him.

“Ah, so you're friends with the thief?” The girl bristled at his arrogant tone. “This petty criminal is well known for his thieving tendencies. Being arrested every other week... I'm surprised you Guardians would protect a child who consorts with such rabble – ”

The girl couldn't stand another second of this. “He's just a kid!”

Tarrok, looking absolutely horrified at being interrupted, opened his mouth. She instantly cut him off. “Don't you get it?! There's a war! His parents are probably dead! So what do you think happens to kids like him? Don't pretend you don't know!”

Everyone was shocked speechless by this outburst, but Volteer was the first to come to and try to play damage control. “What she did that day, we allowed as it was an act of kindness, consideration, compassion – ”

Not waiting to hear another synonym, Tarrok leapt to his feet. “Thank you very much for the meal,” he said curtly. “But I will be taking my leave now.”

His robes flew out as he went for the door, but he stopped in his tracks, eyes burning with rage as he turned. “And by the way,” he snarled, locking eyes with the girl, “the council will be hearing about this.”

Once the door had shut with little less than a slam, all five of them let out a breath. Already the girl's temper had cooled and she sat staring hard at her hands, waiting for the scolding that was sure to come. And she probably deserved.

With the tense meal finally over, everyone else rose to put their dishes away – but they didn't say a word to her as they began returning to their usual routines. Terrador was looking over some papers, Cyril shuffling around, Volteer gathering up books as usual.

Cyril went to draw the curtains, and the girl finally pulled off her mask, visible confusion in her eyes as she looked between the Guardians. “Aren't you all mad at me?”

Ignitus, who was headed for the library, stopped. “Why would we be upset with you, young one?”

The girl blinked in barely contained bewilderment. “I lost my temper, and now Tarrok is going to cause problems for us. And... I promised I would try to control myself...” Her eyes fell.

A heavy paw soon fell on her shoulder, but she avoided Ignitus' sympathetic gaze. “This time, I would say your outburst was justified. So do not worry over it. Any one of us could have lost our composure in the same situation.”

“Not to mention,” Terrador didn't look up from his document, “you were right. People like Tarrok, who turn a blind eye to the suffering this war has caused...” She'd never seen the cool earth Guardian angry before, but now even he seemed affected by Tarrok's callousness.

Cyril was fussing with a bookshelf in the corner, pretending not to listen, but finally he burst out, “After the way that spineless cat was talking to you, I was about ready to root him to the spot and teach him a lesson!”

“Cyril...” Ignitus' exasperated expression clearly said Don't encourage her.

The girl couldn't help laughing, but her smile soon faded. “Why do you care though? Tarrok is... my problem.”

Volteer, who was passing by with a library of books balanced everywhere he could fit them, said cheerfully, “Your problem is our problem, young one!”

Their problem? Why would it be, when it was her fault that he was harassing her in the first place? “What do you mean?”

“Do we have to spell it out for you?” Cyril asked shortly. When the girl only blinked, he sighed and turned to face her. “Whether any of us like it or not, you're our responsibility, and in a way, you're one of us. Come on, this isn't new news.”

The girl smiled bitterly. “The metal Guardian thing was a joke.”

“Well, you may not be a Guardian,” Ignitus said, smiling, “but you will always be a friend of us nonetheless.”

He disappeared into the library, the rest of the Guardians soon dispersing and leaving her alone in the quiet living room. As she rose to deal with her cold, uneaten breakfast, she was thinking.

The Guardians... She'd never been quite sure what to call their relationship. At first, their protection was temporary and conditional. But somehow, in those months growing closer at the Temple...

It had changed. Suddenly, there'd been no question that she would stay with them. No question where she belonged.

And somehow, she'd become family. One of them. She had been afraid to say it out loud.

The girl smiled to herself. When she came here, all she had was her timid nature and memories of a broken family. But now she was surrounded by people she loved, and she wasn't afraid anymore.

Here in this perfect world...

No, it wasn't perfect. There was Tarrok – the one threat to the stability of the home she'd made here. There was the still-raging war, which despite her lecturing, was easy to forget about in the heart of Warfang. And...

There was her sister. If Lily were here, maybe... Despite all of that, she could...

The girl shook her head, returning to the living room and taking her place at the table again. She had to go back someday, for her little sister if nothing else. Back to the darkness, back to the fear, back to the cruel world.

There was nothing to be done about that; she was ready to give it all up for Lily. But until then...

She would be happy here in her almost-perfect world, free of all the old fears that had haunted her, with her real family. And no matter what happened to her when she returned to her old life, no matter what cruelty she had to endure, she would not forget that the kindness of few could outshine the darkness of many.

It wasn't for nothing; she wouldn't let it be. She would never forget.

And if it turned out that there was no way back, she would always have a family waiting for her.

Chapter Text

When the girl's head popped over the wall, she was surprised to see only one draconic silhouette, sitting with their head turned towards the starless horizon blocked by an endless sea of browning trees.

Squinting – and struggling to lift herself onto the wall, or even keep herself from sliding back down again – she recognized the figure as Auren, looking much more pensive than usual.

Not wanting to disturb him, she tried and failed to pull herself up. But soon enough, he noticed her desperate flailing and came to help.

“That you, Fighter Girl?” he asked once she was hauled onto solid stone. “New moons are brutal, huh?” Despite the near-total darkness, his blue eyes were almost glowing and his teeth seemed to sparkle as he grinned. Like the only light was coming from him.

“Yeah. It's pretty dark.” The girl looked around as she fished stolen food out of her bag. Good thing she'd brought less than usual... “Did everyone leave already?”

Auren shrugged, his frown barely visible. “Nobody came tonight, and Tyren has school tomorrow. I was about to head home.”

“Weird. Here I thought you were all having fun every night and I was the odd one out.” Smiling, the girl offered a pear, which he accepted and promptly took a bite out of.

“Mmmm, it'sh ushually jusht me a loht of the time.” The girl shot him a dirty look and he swallowed, flashing his teeth. “Serena can't always get away from the orphanage, Cedric does what Cedric wants, and Strider... Well, we know Strider.”

The girl sighed, thinking of the shadow dragon who was often absent from their meetings. She couldn't help but wonder where she got off to all alone... “I know.”

It was dark without Cedric's lantern, even more so on this moonless night. They could barely see the city or the forest either one, trees and buildings little more than formless black shapes in the distance.

But they got to chatting in no time. The two had gotten to know each other well enough to carry a conversation that lent a little warmth to the cold night.

Still, without the social protection their group provided, talking one-on-one was a little awkward. Eventually they fell to silence, sitting at the edge of the wall and staring out at the dark scenery – not quite close enough to touch.

After some time, Auren finally ventured, “How are you doing, living here in Warfang?”

It was little more than small talk, but the girl's sincerity could make even these small things personal. “It's great!” she exclaimed, unable to contain her smile. “It's... everything I ever hoped for. I have a family, and friends, and – ” Catching herself, she felt her cheeks warm. “And I usually can stop myself from talking too much.”

“Talk away, Fighter.” Auren winked. “I pretty much grew up in Warfang, so I like it well enough. I do miss my home though.”

The girl went quiet at that. Thinking about that place she may never see again left her with a terrible bittersweetness. It was hard to say she missed it. Harder to say she didn't.

Her friend was quick to notice her silence, and he gave her a hesitant glance. “Do you miss home too?”

She stiffened. “No.” In that moment, all she could think of was the bitter, the pain, the lonely. Everything she hated. Everything she never wanted to see again. The simple fact that she would have to – and how much that terrified her.

Auren froze, surprised, but his expression quickly turned stony as he tore his gaze away. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn't mean – ”

Realizing that she'd snapped at him, the girl quickly cut in. “No, no, I'm sorry.” Deflating, she let her eyes fall to her dangling legs. She couldn't even see the ground down there. “I've just gotten so used to not thinking about it anymore. But I do miss it. I miss the beach. And I miss my sister.”

When Auren didn't say anything, she glanced his way. Just like her, he was staring down into the void, unreadable. “But there's no going home, at least not right now. So that's why I don't want to think about it.”

Seeing her honesty, Auren smiled slightly, back to his normal self. “It's okay to hold onto the past a little bit, you know.”

“Yeah, I guess. A little bit.”

They didn't talk anymore. In the distance where invisible clouds had parted, the black orbs that were the moons had blotted out the stars. A glimmering green sliver shone faintly on the smaller of the two.

Even from up here on the wall, they could see nothing but a black mass of trees to the end of the world. An occasional watchtower poked through the branches, but they trickled out long before hitting the endless horizon.

The grasslands right around Warfang were mostly clear, and stumps littered the ground like fallen soldiers. On brighter nights, they might see an animal poking its head up through the tall grass, but the empty moons and heavy clouds left a blanket of darkness over the world.

So together, they watched the sky.

As the night wore on, the chill autumn winds grew only colder. Even under her heavy robes, the girl couldn't help but shiver. Auren sidled over, offering a shoulder. Despite being an ice dragon – she could usually feel Cyril's chilly aura from across the house – he was surprisingly warm. She appreciated it.

“It's cold, huh?” he murmured mindlessly. She thought she could see a wisp of breath curl up towards the stars. “Last time I noticed, it was barely summer. And now the leaves are already turning.”

“Ditto,” the girl replied. “It's been more than three months since I came he– I mean, since the Guardians found me. I hadn't even realized it.”

“Time just keeps going faster. I wish I could make it stop,” he sighed. His friend was staring dreamily up at a patch of stars that had just broken through, more concerned with the present. “Uh, your sword...”

Spell broken, she blinked and turned to him. “Hmm? What about it?”

“I noticed you always carrying it around, so I figured it was a keepsake from your old village.” He looked at her curiously. “But if you didn't want to think about the past, then...?”

Not exactly the past he was thinking of, but he wasn't wrong. “The Guardians gave it to me,” she said. “I guess I just keep it as a reminder.”

“A reminder?”

She clutched the leather strap at her chest a moment, contemplating, but finally reached back and unsheathed the blade. Even with the weak starlight, the silver metal gleamed prettily as she handed it to him.

“Not over the edge,” she said anxiously. “Can you read it?”

Auren squinted in the poor light, tracking the back of his claw over the letters. “'Never stop fighting'...” he murmured, shooting her a grin. “No wonder. That's just like you.”

“Really?” the girl asked dreamily. Catching herself, she took the shortsword back and sheathed it carefully. “I've decided not to stand for injustice anymore. And that,” she raised a finger, winking, “is why I beat up those kids who were after your brother.”

Auren snorted, but their smiles faded as they both remembered Tyren's bruises. It was hard to joke about. “Speaking of which... Have they left him alone?”

“At first.” With the lack of cheer in his expression, it seemed like the problem hadn't gotten much better at all. “But lately they're just back at it again.”

The girl scowled, but she wasn't exactly surprised. Personal experience had taught her it was rarely that easy.

Glancing at her friend, her expression softened. “You're bigger than I am – even if I am taller. So why don't you just...?”

“Take them on myself?” Auren's smile was hard. “I guess I'm just a coward. I could take a tip from you, because honestly I'm too scared to go confront them.”

She looked away. “It's hard to fight back. I don't know how I do it.”

“Guess you're just braver than I am.”

The girl was prepared to rebuke that, but even with his shoulder pressed against her it felt like he wasn't there at all. Her words would never reach him.

It didn't seem fair. Was she really that brave of a person? When her rage had flared up and faded, all that was left standing in its place was her.

Couldn't he be brave too if he just tried?

Hours seemed to pass between them, and the girl began to shiver again despite Auren's warmth. “It's starting to get cold,” he said idly, mind clearly still on other things.

“Starting to?” the girl giggled, though concern creased her brow.

A bit of light sprung back into his eyes, actually seeing her again. “Get used to it; it even snows on the coast in the mainland. Anyway, we'd better go home.”

She nodded, standing and stretching wide. They'd been sitting like that for hours... “Yeah, you're right.”

Auren was about to hop off the wall, but he looked back as she gathered up the last of the uneaten food. “Do you need me to walk you home?”

The girl stopped, slinging a hand on her hip. “What am I, your girlfriend?” she scoffed. A beat passed and she realized what she had just said, coupled with the look on Auren's face. “I-I mean – I didn't mean to – ”

“Nono, I get it,” Auren quickly cut in. Flashing an embarrassed smile, he turned. “So, I'll see you later?”

The girl started to answer, but her voice was drowned out as the wind suddenly picked up. At that moment, whether it was fate, luck, or a long-dead wind dragon who'd decided to mess with the human, a strong gust of air swept over the wall and knocked her to the ground.

The impact of hard stone wrenched a cry from her and her stomach flipped as she landed not far from the wall's edge, though she was unharmed if a bit nauseous.

Only after she began to slowly sit up, nursing her aching back, did she realize that the fall had swept the hood right off her head and left the tangle of short dark hair clear for the world to see. And there was Auren, looking back to see if she was okay, frozen.

The girl scrambled to pull her hood back up, clutching madly at the fabric and finally yanking it back into its rightful place. It was dark – she still had her bandanna covering the most alien parts of her face – he probably wouldn't know what he was looking at –

As she stared at him with wide eyes, a slow grin crept up his face – and then he broke into triumphant laughter. “I knew it!”

It's over, it's all over. But she persisted. “Knew what? I have no idea what you're talking about but I really have to go – ”

The girl scrambled for her bag, but her hands were trembling too much to get a grip on it. All of my friends, these nights we spent together, everything...

“You're not a cheetah, are you?” When she stiffened, frozen with her fingers digging into the fabric, Auren stepped forward. “Can I see?”

Slowly, she turned to face him. Everything is gone.

She felt nothing but a stab of self-consciousness as she untied the cover and shook her hood off. It was strange, standing in the open night air with nothing hiding her. She hadn't felt the wind on her face in so long.

After tonight, with her secret out, she might never again.

Auren examined her, icy eyes darting over her face that must seem as strange to him as it had to the Guardians. “You're not an ape.”

She shook her head. Any second now, he was going to say it: that he couldn't be friends with her, that he'd tell everyone the truth, that she was going to lose everything –

“I mean, I've never seen one,” he continued, still eyeing her as she shakily lowered herself to her knees. “But you definitely aren't one.”

Why isn't he... Swallowing the lump in her throat, the girl spoke. “I'm not from this world. I'm a creature called a human, and I just woke up here one day. I can't say why.”

There was little point in trying to make up any more stories. And she didn't think she could lie to him in this state.

Surprisingly, there was no disbelief in his eyes, just a question she understood. “My sister isn't dead, and there never was any ape raid. I wear this robe so I can pass as a cheetah, that's all.” She looked away, unable to hold his searching gaze any longer. “Everything else I told you is true.”

For a long time Auren was silent, and she kept her eyes fixed on the scuffed stonework, awaiting his judgment.

Finally, after much intense deliberation, he shrugged and flopped down. “Huh. Cool.”

The girl ripped her eyes from the ground, gaping at him for several seconds as she scrambled to find her voice. He just sat there staring up at the sky, completely unconcerned. “'Cool'... That's it?!”

“I believe you,” he said calmly.

“That's not what I'm worried about!”

Auren lowered his gaze, looking silently over at her with his head cocked. No disgust, no fear, no confusion. Not one speck of anything she'd been expecting.

The girl choked on her shock, but finally exclaimed, “Aren't you going to say that you hate me? That you can't be friends, that you'll tell everyone, that...” Seeing his expression, she trailed off.

Auren's face was scrunched up in confusion. “Why would I do that?”

“Because...” Suddenly all the arguments and convictions had flown out of her mind. “Because I'm... a... human...?”

At this, Auren exhaled sharply and tilted his head up to the stars, his shoulders heaving. The girl realized with complete astonishment that he was laughing.

When he was done, he lay down again, though his dazzling grin remained. “You forget who I am, Fighter Girl.” At her stare, it faded into a sad smile. “Whether you're a cheetah who lost her family, or some creature from another world – it doesn't make any difference.”

Realizing that tears were welling up, the girl blinked them back. “But... I always told myself that if anyone found out, then everything... I would lose everything. You wouldn't want anything to do with me.”

“You're a misfit all the same, aren't you? So you'll always be welcome here.” The girl stared, stunned into speechlessness, and he offered a warm smile. “And you're my friend too, you know. I'm not just going to throw you to the guards or something, even if you are a weird-looking ape thing.”

“Human,” she corrected, laughing tearfully and wiping her eyes.

He grinned. “Whatever you are.”

For a moment she just sat there, trembling in relief and thanking whatever gods or ancestors she could bring herself to believe in. Then she quickly gathered her things and stood, expression serious. “Auren... You can't tell anyone. Not the others, not Tyren – ”

“I won't,” he reassured. At least he seemed sincere... As much as she was growing to trust the other misfits, the threat of what would happen if her secret slipped was enough that she wanted to keep it close.

“Not even Cedric,” she added, waving a finger.

“Not even Cedric.”

“Not even Strider!”

At that, Auren opened his mouth in mock dismay. “Not even Strider?”

“Auren!” she yelped, terrified.

“It's not like she can tell anyone...” The girl's hot glare and tightly crossed arms drew a laugh out of him. “I promise, okay?”

“Okay. I mean it, Auren!”

As she prepared to drop herself onto the wall below, a light touch on her shoulder stopped her. “Hey...” Auren began. He seemed hesitant, awkward even, but his expression finally softened. “I'm glad you came here tonight.”

She met his warm, sincere smile with her own. “I am too.”

And she was. It was good to finally share her secrets. He watched her as she dropped into the darkness, the scuff of her shoes on pavement disappearing into the night.

When the girl crawled under the covers, having only stopped to throw a blanket over the earth Guardian who had fallen asleep on the couch, the grey dawn was peeking through her window. She knew she'd catch hell from Cyril when she awoke well after noon tomorrow, but she didn't mind.

For so long, she'd been hiding a part of herself within these four walls, only letting the Guardians see her true face. And she'd spent so long pretending to be a cheetah that she'd forgotten how to be a human... For all the good things that had come of it, she'd lost herself to this world.

But now she didn't have to hide, at least not from Auren, one more pocket in this world where she didn't have to be afraid. Human or cheetah... with him, she could just be herself.

Smiling contently, she fell asleep moments after her head hit the pillow.

Ignitus, checking in on her the next morning, was confused to find her sleeping in dayclothes, not having bothered to take off her bandanna or gloves... Or her sword.

Chapter Text

"I'm bored."

Cedric, who was laying on his back, sighed heavily and flopped over onto his stomach. With his face buried in the bricks, he continued, "No more talking. Let's do something fun."

The entire group, sans Serena, had not been having a very interesting night. Their usual chatter had fizzled out, and they couldn't think of any games to play. Even Tyren, who had become a bright staple of the group's meetings, was looking rather tired. The girl was considering going home and getting some sleep for once.

"Play a song for us, dancer boy," Auren drawled, waving his arm about. The usually animated boy, though looking a bit weary, never passed up a chance to heckle the mole.

Cedric scoffed. "Ya gonna pay me for it?"

His response was an apple bonked off his head. Seething, the mole reached into the food pile, throwing all manners of fruits and pastries at Auren. The girl yelped and covered her head as her robe was splattered with some little cake's frosting, and the shadow dragoness pulled her own pile closer, looking annoyed.

Serena's blue snout came up over the wall, but she ducked again as an orange went sailing over her. She laughed at the boys' antics as she pulled herself over the wall, but her expression turned to dismay. "You didn't leave any for me?!"

Cedric flopped back down, pointedly taking a bite out of the last apple. "Whoops."

The cheetah girl sulked for a while until Strider offered a piece of sweetbread, which she gratefully accepted, looking like she had sailed to the moons and back.

Once she had some food in her, the cheetah looked around. Seeing everyone's pensive or bored expression, all of them laying down and staring at the sky, Serena frowned. "What's wrong with you guys?"

The girl shrugged. Even the food looked unappetizing. "Nothin' to do."

Serena thought for a moment. "Well, let's have some fun, then!" Everyone looked at the normally shy girl with interest at this outburst. "I know a way out of Warfang."

They all started and stared with big eyes, though the cynical mole didn't bat an eye. "Yeah," he scoffed. "Try the front gate. I'm sure they'll let a bunch of misfit kids waltz on out."

"I mean a secret way out... dummy," the cheetah pouted. "There's a hole in the wall."

Auren laughed. "No way those crazy guards would let that slide!"

Serena stood, hopped off the wall, and marched off immediately. Exchanging glances, the group had no choice but to follow, gathering up their things and jumping down. They walked behind her as she led them through a few neighborhoods not far away, a procession of orphans and misfits marching down the street. Soon enough, they found themselves standing in the backyard of a dilapidated abandoned house, the overgrown garden surrounded by a tall fence.

Cedric peered up, squinting. "Well," he huffed, staring at it, "Whaddya know."

It wasn't the smallest of holes–an adult dragon might have some issues squeezing through it–but it was low enough to the ground to not be easily noticed. Serena, with a running start, pounced straight into the air and landed in the hollow with ease.

Popping her head out, she grinned. "You coming?"

The girl, after trying and failing to jump up to it, was given a boost by Auren. She grabbed little Tyren as he was handed to her, then up came his brother, who pulled in Cedric. Strider poked her head in, took one look at the crowded tunnel with a raised eyebrow, and left to fly over the wall.

Once they had all tumbled out of the rocky tunnel and into the dew-laden grass, they stood slowly, looking around. The walls of Warfang, though a show of safety, were tall and oppressive. Always closing in, always looking down on them. But for the first time in a while, each of them was free to walk to the horizon with no walls in the way.

Snapping out of her reverie, the girl looked at the forest with distrust, remembering the endless sea of trees. "So... Where do we go?"

"Didn't think of that," Serena said cheerfully, paws in her pockets. "Let's just walk!"

So walk on they did. They were cautious at first, whispering and hunching over in the grass. But soon, the safety of the treeline enveloped them. The moment Warfang was out of sight, they began to run and yell and laugh, delirious with freedom. Tyren, who probably didn't remember a time when there was no walls, touched every tree and looked under every rock, pointing and yelling at the sleepy forest creatures, giddy at all these new things.

Even Strider was skipping pleasantly along, though the girl noticed that she stopped to dig her claws into every tree she passed, leaving thick scratches. A marker, so they wouldn't be lost. The shadow dragon was sharper than she seemed, wasn't she?

"How'd you know about that hole anyway?" Cedric asked after a while, continuing to play a lazy tune on his lute.

Hearing his question, Serena blushed. "Er... My parents and I came through there." Everyone stopped and looked at her with confusion, so she continued quietly, "At the time, the gates were shut to everyone, incoming or outgoing."

"Why?" the girl asked naively.

Auren and Strider exchanged knowing glances. "The Guardians and the council..." the ice dragon began hesitantly.

"...They decided that the prophecy must be heeded, and all parents had to give up their eggs to be taken to safety," Serena finished, looking somber.

The child stopped in her tracks, gaping. "They stole them?"

Everyone stared at her. "You didn't know?" Cedric asked, one eyebrow raised. "Everyone knows that."

She shook her head vigorously, brushing her hair out of her face. "But if that's true... If they took the eggs by force and then lost them... Why has everyone forgiven them?"

She thought about the crowds, the people who had bowed and cheered, the guards who seemed to fall at their feet... Like they were heroes, when they–she felt sick to her stomach–they had let all those babies die.

"Not everyone has," Auren said bitterly. "When they came to the door before I was hatched, my mother lied and said she had no children. If she hadn't..."

"They didn't know," Serena said gently, putting a blue paw on his shoulder. "They couldn't have known."

"But that's wrong!" the girl exclaimed, shocked. "Even if they had lived, taking peoples' children away like that..."

Everyone looked at her sympathetically, but there was nothing to be said. They walked on quietly for a while, though soon enough, the laughter and chatter started up again. But the girl was silent, still upset.

Maybe it was just a bad call, but... All those kids... They had taken those eggs away under the guise of protecting them, but they had only served up the dragon Malefor needed on a silver platter: Cynder.

It could have been Auren.

She shivered. Had Malefor not found the egg he needed in the raid, he would have turned to people like Auren's parents, who had lived in the wilderness. If that didn't work, then–well, if Warfang's wall had a bloody hole in it, who said an egg couldn't be stolen from there?

Still... Still. At least dozens of children wouldn't be dead.

Completely in shock, the girl didn't even pay any heed to her friends or where they were going, floating along like a ghost. These dragons, her family... People who she laughed and shared tea and read books with, who she'd accepted into her life, allowing them inside the walls she had always kept built high... How could they have done that?

And what about the other children that Terrador had mentioned, the ones like her? If they had allowed so many eggs to die, then... What had become of them?

The girl took a deep breath, steadying herself. She wouldn't have to go back there for a while. There would be time to get mad at them later, but for now... She was with her friends, right? So... She should have some fun.

Her gaze wandered over to Strider, who was hanging far away from the group. The dragon was looking a bit worried about something, so the girl fell back.

"You alright, Strider?" the girl asked in concern. Her head turned back to their friends, who continued on oblivious, and she furrowed her brow as she saw that the trees through this path already had claw marks in them.

Strider nodded, despite the look on her face saying otherwise. She grimaced, almost seeming like she was considering speaking, but finally tugged the girl's robe and trotted on ahead. Shrugging, the dragon's friend followed.

Eventually, after perhaps thirty minutes of merrily tripping through the forest, the trees began to clear and they came cross a clearing. As the moons were still waxing, it was rather dark. Cedric was walking along blithely when Strider's paw snapped out, grabbing him by the shirt, and that was the only thing that stopped him from tumbling into the darkness.

All of them took a few steps back, gazing about in wonder. Split right down the middle of the clearing was a deep, narrow ravine, cutting straight through the earth like a god's blade.

The girl took a few timid steps forward and peered down, little rocks bouncing down and startling her backwards. She could see to the bottom, though it was quite a drop, and rather dark down there too.

The mole, still looking a bit shaken, seemed like he was about to suggest they turn back and find another way. But Auren had other ideas. He pointed to the forest across the ravine, an enticing moonlit lake sheltered by wispy willow trees on the other side. "There's a pool over there. Let's check it out, guys!"

No one wanted to protest, except Strider who was looking pretty anxious by now–and she did not speak up for obvious reasons.

Carefully loading up Tyren on his back, Auren glided over to the other side. He grinned playfully, crouching down with his rump in the air. "C'mon, you guys scared?"

"Auren, this isn't a good idea," Serena said soberly, stepping forward. "What if one of us falls down there?"

"Then I'll catch you!" the ice dragon shouted with a smirk.

Serena exchanged glances with everyone, but, finally shrugging, leapt easily over the gap. Everyone recognized that Cedric wouldn't be able to cross with his little legs, so Strider conceded to flying him over, though she didn't look very happy about it.

It was just the girl now, standing stricken on the other side. She poked her head over the edge again. Yeah, she may not have been afraid of heights, but this was too much. "I think I'll just hang out here," she said, laughing nervously and sitting down. "You guys go on ahead."

"C'mon, Fighta!" Cedric teased, back to his normal self as he lounged on the ground. "Don't be a scaredy-cat."

"I take offense to that," Serena grumbled.

"Yeah, come on over," Auren teased her. "If Serena can make it, you can too. You are a cheetah..." The dragon grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "...Aren't you?"

Glaring at him, the girl stood quickly, squaring her shoulders. That was a blow that could not be ignored. Gauging the distance, she took a deep breath and a few steps back, and began running.

She nailed the jump, leaping right off the end of the edge and propelling herself into the air. The child grinned, exhilarated, feeling like she was flying as she shot through the air. Cheetah or not, she was just as acrobatic as Serena!

Here came the ledge. She could stick the landing. All she had to do was keep her feet out, arms spread...

Her stomach dropped the moment she realized that she had missed.

The girl cried out as her stomach rammed into the rocky edge, knocking the air out of her. As she fell, gasping for breath and clawing at the earth that slipped through her fingers, she saw Auren's panicked face as he grabbed at her. He missed.

Before she could even register what had happened, she saw a rock sticking out of the wall coming at her fast. The girl screamed as the sharp crag sliced her face open, not even slowing her descent.

And then, a few long, terrifying seconds later, she hit the rocky ground. Eyes wide, she lay still, pain enveloping her body, washing over her like waves. She felt warm liquid sliding down her face and dripping onto the floor.

Distantly, she heard screaming. Her hazy eyes looked upward, seeing five pairs of eyes staring down at her. The girl blinked slowly, curling her fingers, though even that sent pain radiating up her arm and down her spine. Why couldn't she hear them?

Serena's voice was the first to drift back to her as she lay there. "Is she dead?!" The child seemed to be going into hysterics. "Fighter, get up–oh ancestors, get up!"

The group pulled her and Tyren away from the sight of her bloody, broken body. A moment later, Auren and Strider were floating down with moonlight behind them, looking to the delirious girl like angels descending upon her.

She felt the ice dragon gently pulling down her hood, checking to see if she was responsive, while Strider was pressing a claw into her wrist to check her pulse. Apparently dragons' arteries were in similar places–though the girl nearly burst out laughing, thinking that that was what she had taken away from this situation.

Seeing the slash, Auren quickly replaced her hood before Strider could see. He flew up out of the cave, yelling at Serena to tear a bit of cloth out of her brown school uniform, and soon he returned with the strip.

By then, the girl had begun to get her bearings, and Strider helped her sit up. Despite the dragon's normal antipathy towards the world, she was a caring, careful nurse. Luckily, it was dark enough for the shadow dragon to see nothing as Auren pulled down the girl's hood and tied the bandage around her face.

The cut was just below her eye–a little higher and she might be half-blind–stretching down her entire face to her chin. With the bandaging done, Auren took her arms in his paws, uncurling them and going from her shoulder to her wrist, pressing down.

"Does this hurt?" he asked. The girl shook her head, so he continued, "My dad was a doctor in Warfang. He made a lot of money, which is why we had that summer house on the coast. My mom wanted to raise me there instead of in the city, so he took her to live there for a few years."

"What happened to your dad?" Her voice was hoarse and weak.

He brushed over the question. "Ever since I was a kid, he would show me his profession. Tyren got sick a lot as a hatchling, so I got to learn from him. We were going to stay there at least until I was older, especially after they heard what the council had been doing." The dragon sighed. "But when Dad died, Mom moved us away. I think I was twelve or thirteen then."

Before she could open her mouth, she realized that Auren had completely finished checking for broken bones. His father had taught him well... "Alright," he said cheerfully. "Looks like nothing vital is broken, at least. Can you stand?"

She did, though she stumbled back down, Strider catching her as she staggered. "It's a little bit sore," the girl groaned.

Auren nodded. "You might need a real doctor for that cut, but you'll be okay. Now..." He furrowed his brow, looking around. "We just have to figure out how to get you out of here." His head turned to his friends, and he barked up at them, "Hey, guys! Got any ideas how to get Fighter Girl outta here?"

Cedric peered down, his nose twitching. "We could make a catapult."

Auren's expression turned to irritation. "Cedric," he said flatly. "We can't just make a catapult."

"Sure we can! All we need is to chop down a few trees, get some bolts..."

"No."

"Um, um!" Tyren was wiggling in his spot, nearly tumbling down with them before Serena caught him. "I'm good at building things! I could make something to pull her out!"

Auren's expression softened and he sighed. "Sorry kiddo, but even if you could make a machine like that... We don't have any materials to build with, remember? And if we went home, we should go for help instead." He saw the child's expression turn crestfallen, so he quickly said, "That was a good idea, though."

The mole raised a furry finger. "I still think the catapult is a great plan."

"Anyone else?" the dragon interjected. He received only silence and wide-eyed stares, so he sighed. "Alright, Fighter. Get on my back, let me see if I can fly you out of here."

She looked at him dubiously. She might be able to ride on the Guardians' back–but they were a few heads taller than her! Auren was barely half her height, not to mention he was a bit on the scrawny side.

A few moments later, she was sitting rather awkwardly on him, somewhat squatting due to him not standing tall enough to suspend her legs off the ground–also, he was pretty spiky down the back, which hurt!

Plus she was sitting just behind his wings, closer to his rump, which she didn't see going well. His shoulders weren't wide enough for her to lay there, not that she could even lay on her stomach since she was longer than he was, and his wings were in the way. This was very awkward!

But Auren, grimacing, took a running start–bumping his friend about uncomfortably–and managed to get himself into the air. Then, a moment later, as his hind end was unbalanced by the human suspended on it, he came crashing down again and threw her right off.

The girl groaned as she slid down the wall and landed on the ground with a thud. Well, there went her chances of becoming a dragon rider of Berk... Unless she could convince the Guardians to give her a ride.

Cedric was sniggering at the spectacle, though his laughter quickly faded as he received a rock to the eye.

Auren and Strider went to fly around and see if the ravine had any passable slopes, but it did not. They returned soon, shaking their heads. Finally Auren spoke up. "I don't think we have much choice. We'll need to get the Guardians to help you."

"No!" the girl snapped. At everyone's look she bit her lip and calmed herself. "No way."

"Better have them mad at you than to die down there!" Serena yelled down.

"That's not why..." She sighed, realizing she couldn't explain. She didn't want to be indebted to the people she was mad at right now.

Auren shook his head. "We don't have a choice. You all go, and I'll stay with Fighter."

"Wait, wait." Cedric held up his paw, a bushy eyebrow raised. "Do you really think the bloody Guardians are gonna listen to a raggedy mole, a mute dragon, a little boy, and an orphan cheetah kid? They'll shut the door in our face, especially if that crotchety old ice dragon sees us. You should go alone."

The girl reached out her hand, touching Auren's shoulder. Don't go, she wanted to say, though she saw as he met her eyes that he got the message. "I'm the one who got her into this mess, so I should stay with her," he said, not breaking her gaze.

Cedric sighed, but he nodded. "Alright, then," he said, thinking, then fully took charge. "Serena, you'll go back alone. The rest of us will stay up here and try to think of a way to get her out, and Auren can stay down in the hole for all I care."

The cheetah's eyes widened. "W-what? Me?" she stuttered. "B-but I..."

"You're the respectable-lookin' sort," the mole said, waving a paw. "They'll listen to someone like you. You do wanna save Fighta, right?"

"I-I..." The teenager's frightened stare melted into a look of determination. Her brown eyes, usually wide and afraid, turned suddenly strong. "I will! I will get her out of there!"

Without another word, the cheetah set off, bounding over the ravine and running straight into the woods. She disappeared before anyone could say anything.

"A'ight then," Cedric mumbled, eyebrows still raised at Serena's sudden change. "Well, let's get our thinkin' caps on, then. You lovebirds," he pointed a clawed finger down at Auren and the girl, "Don't be making out down there or anything."

Blushing furiously, the girl yelled up, "W-what?! What are you saying?!" But the mole's face had disappeared from the edge, and the two were alone.

They sat quietly apart for awhile, the girl sulking and looking troubled. Auren had retreated into himself for a bit, staring up at the stars, but he scooted over when he noticed her worried expression.

"You alright?" the boy asked, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn't hear him. She nodded slowly, so tentatively he continued, "You still mad at them?"

She exhaled, grimacing, and finally said, "That too. But mostly, I'm worried they'll be mad at me. I promised to be more mature and keep a level head, but..." The child smiled wearily. "Falling down a hole and nearly dying probably doesn't qualify."

Auren only looked at her, so she continued, "We've been getting into a lot of trouble lately, and I'm worried they might make me stop seeing you guys."

The ice dragon snorted, his breath fogging up in the cold. "Remember last week, when the guards caught us throwing tomatoes at the councilhouse?"

She bit her lip, holding in her snickers. "They gave me hell for that one... Though I think they found it pretty funny for all the lecturing they did." Finally she laughed, though her eyes widened and she smacked Auren's shoulder. "This is what I mean! We've gotta tone it down, okay? If we make it out of this, I can't get in trouble anymore."

He nodded. "Alright, alright, I promise. Mom's been worried too, anyway. She's gonna lose it if she hears about this." The dragon looked about the hole they were in.

"Well," the boy sighed after a minute, "At least things couldn't get much worse."

Boom.

While the ground rumbled and shook from the force of the thunder, the child looked up as she felt cold needles pricking her through her hood.

Ten minutes later, the girl and the dragon were drenched, curled up and shivering despite sitting under the overhang. "You just had to say it," she grumbled.

"We may have a bigger problem," Auren chuckled. At his friend's look, he pointed to the rocky ground, the crevices of which were filling with water and spilling out like little rivers.

Her gaze snapped to the ground, then to the sky. At this point, she was convinced that the ancestors were screwing with her.

The minutes passed, and the rain got only more steady, until it was pouring in torrents from the sky. An inch, then a few more inches, then suddenly she was waist-deep in water. Poor Auren was doggy-paddling, and the girl had to hold him up.

"What are we going to do?!" she yelled, yelping as she stepped in a hole and stumbled into the water, emerging with wet hair.

Auren looked about desperately. Even he couldn't escape now; he had no way to take flight. Squinting into the darkness, he pointed in front of them. "It looks like the ground is higher over there. Maybe we can climb out."

She slipped her hand into his paw and headed towards where he had pointed, pulling the boy along. They passed under the overhang and into deep shadow, but as he had said, the ground began to slope upwards. Soon enough, it was the stronger of the two pulling his friend out of the water and onto land, where the ground seemed to flatten.

Shuddering, the girl fell to her knees on the dry ground and clutched her legs. "I already t-took a bath today," she said, teeth chattering as a blast of cold air hit her.

Auren helped her to her feet. "C'mon, it looks like there's a cave in here. It might be a little warmer."

Though the girl ran face-first into a rocky wall and had to nurse a bleeding nose, they fumbled around and came upon a pile of wood. She like most other children had gone through the "girl scouts" phase, though she hadn't been allowed to join, and instead spent her time watching remorsefully from a distance and reading books on nature.

Still, that little knowledge allowed her to make a serviceable fire, and soon they were huddled around the puny flame, staring at the approaching black depths.

Now, with the area lit up, they looked about. The tiny cave seemed to be inhabited; a few blankets were bunched up in the corner, and the ashes of previous fires were littered about. The two looked at each other, wondering where the inhabitant was.

After awhile, Auren stepped to the edge of the cave. They had been watching in concern as the water rose to the very edge of the entrance, but they saw that it didn't seem to be rising anymore. It was quieter, so the storm must have calmed down.

"I don't think it's going to get any worse," Auren said. He smiled, splashing about on the slope, where the water was ankle-deep. "Wanna come in?"

She made a face at him. "You don't have to wear clothes. You have no idea what it's like to be drenched in wet clothing."

The dragon blinked. "Why do you wear clothes?"

"Wh-what..." The girl flushed and threw a rock at him. He dodged and it landed in the water with a splash. "Don't ask questions like that, stupid!"

Rising, she strode forward, holding a stick that she'd been using as a fire poker. "Can you make an ice block in the water?"

The dragon complied, and she climbed on, wobbling on the little makeshift raft. Rowing herself forward with the stick, she passed back out of the overhang and into the ravine. The moons and stars were sparkling prettily in the rainwater, blurring as she plunged her oar into the depths. As she looked up at the sky, she could feel little drops of water peppering her skin.

"Cedric? Strider?" No response. "We're in a cave down here, so don't worry!" she yelled up, but over the constant thunder and beating of rain, she couldn't be sure if they had even heard her. Sighing, she turned and rowed herself back.

As the girl neared the cave, she felt herself getting a bit shaky. The ice block had melted, leaving her with only a tiny seat. Just before she could reach the safety of the slope, with one last wobble, the entire raft flipped and deposited her into the water.

As she stomped over to the fire, dripping and fuming, she stopped to whack the hysterical Auren with her stick.

Once he had calmed down and she had dried off, the girl said, "It's still raining, but it's a little better. We'll have to stay here until it stops." She glanced at the ravine-river, grimacing. "Cedric and Strider couldn't hear me."

Auren looked over too, the firelight shadowing his face. "Hopefully they'll be able to find us."

The girl turned to him. "Hey... You could fly out of here now that we're on solid ground."

The dragon considered this for a moment, but finally, he ruffled the girl's fluffy hair through her cloak, much to her chagrin. "No can do, kid!" he said cheerfully. "I have to keep you company."

"I'm older than you..." she grumbled. "You don't have to stay, you know... I'll be fine."

Auren looked at her, his smile fading. "Yes... I do."

She stared back, but, shrugging, flopped down next to the fire. "Okay then."

They waited in silence for a while, the only sound the weakening rainfall plishing into the water. Finally, growing bored, they began to look around more thoroughly, trying to find more clues about the cave's inhabitant. Turning over a few rocks, the girl found food hidden in crevices in the floor and walls. She decided to leave it there.

Though, turning over another rock, she found something else instead. Under a large, flat rock, was hidden a stack of papers. Even turning away from the fire so the light would be on the paper, she still couldn't see what was on it. Though she realized, as she put it back, that there was something chalky on her fingers.

"Hey, Fighter Girl... Look at this." She turned and, squinting, saw Auren standing at the edge of the darkness.

She headed towards him and was surprised to find that there was no wall. "Feel that draft? It slopes upward too," Auren explained. "Maybe it leads to the surface. Let's check it out."

"You think?" The girl tilted her head. "You sure goin' into that dark creepy cave is a good idea?"

Auren stepped into the tunnel, eyebrows raised. "You coming or not?"

She stared at him, arms crossed, but finally sighed. "Well... I guess it's worth a shot."

"There's my girl!" Auren bounded off into the cave, flashing a grin over his shoulder.

"W-what?!" The girl chased after him, face flushed under the cloak as her feet pounded on the ground. "I'm not your girl!"

And so the two headed into the darkness, unsure what they would find and unwary of what lay within.

Chapter Text

Auren and Fighter had been walking for a long time when the former finally began to feel uneasy. The fire was getting further away, and there was nothing around them but the inky blackness. Plus, the cave seemed to stretch on infinitely; she could feel... something in there.

"Listen, Auren..." The girl stared behind her, at the pinprick of firelight just visible in the distance. "Maybe we should go back. We don't have a light source, and if we get lost down here..."

"It'll be alright," Auren said, waving her off. "We're not that far below ground. It can't be that much of a walk."

She said nothing, though she kept a tight hold on his wing.

Soon, there was nothing behind or in front of them. If she had wanted to, she could imagine herself back at the ocean, cutting through the waves in the pitch black. The eyes of that ape flashed in front of her vision, and she stopped, tugging at her friend.

"Auren... It's been too long. Let's go back," she said anxiously, her panic growing.

"Mm-mm. Just a bit farther." She couldn't even see him, was he even real, was he...

The girl fell to the ground, crying out. Out of the dark an ape as white as ice came for her, pinning her down. She screamed and thrashed, drawing her sword and slashing at the air wildly, but he wouldn't let go.

"Get off! GET OFF!" she screeched, closing her eyes as his white paw came for her face. He had come back to finish the job, to get revenge, he...!

"Fighter! Fighter, stop!" Whimpering, the girl slid back against the wall. Feeling a warm paw on her arm, she looked up. Auren was there, staring in consternation.

Finally, the boy let go as she stilled. "Where's the ape?" she whimpered.

"What ape?" The boy laughed, though his pale blue scales looked even more pallid. "Is that what you thought I was? You only scared me half to death..."

"I..." Realizing that she could see her friend, her head fell to the side.

The path split into two narrow hallways, one as dark as their journey had been so far, and one lit with brilliant blue light. The source of this luminescence was a cluster of glowing crystals sticking out of the walls and ceilings. Considering the situation, it couldn't really be called pretty, but it was certainly gentle on the eyes.

"Let's forget it," the girl said shakily, sitting up. "Which way do we go?"

"Wait a second." Auren held up a paw. "Now that we have some light, let me see that cut again."

Tentatively, still a bit shy about removing her covers, the girl pulled the bandanna down around her neck. Auren scooted closer, removing the makeshift bandage. She jumped as she felt his claw running down the wound, not used to having people touch her face.

"You're going to need a real doctor," the dragon mumbled, seemingly in a trance. "It's still bleeding, and cut pretty deep too... We'll have to find the right herbs to stop the infection, and... You'll be okay."

"Okay." The boy didn't put his paw down, and she couldn't read his expression in the dark. "Auren..." she whispered.

Realizing that her face had grown hot, the girl shifted. "Auren," she said again, and this time the boy snapped out of it, quickly tying the bandage again.

"Like I said," the dragon said as rapid-fire as a machine gun, "Lots of rest, lots of tea, get the right herbs, and it probably won't get infected, I think, I mean I'm not a doctor but I–"

"Auren." The girl looked at him, and he shut his mouth with a click.

"Er... Um... L-let's go." Auren spun around and tramped off towards the lit hallway.

The girl smirked; the strong-headed dragon had never stuttered before. She turned away, stretching and adjusting her sword belt, before heading after her friend–but she just about tripped over the dragon, catching herself before she could fall to the floor. The girl was prepared to give him a lecture when she realized that he was frozen to the spot.

Her smile faded. "Auren...?" she asked. He didn't respond, so she stepped forward to touch his shoulder.

The boy stiffened, and she realized that he was shaking. She followed his gaze to the dark hall, but there was nothing there. "Aur... Let's go," the girl said uneasily, but still he said nothing.

"Dad..." the dragon mumbled, so low that his friend could barely hear him.

Didn't he say that his father was dead? "Wha–"

"Dad!" With only a yelp, Auren took off, charging into the darkness.

"H–Hey! Auren, wait!"

The girl charged off after her dragon friend, but before she could get very far, a rumble knocked her off her feet. Looking up and seeing the rocks in the ceiling begin to shake loose, she screamed and pushed herself backwards without thinking.

Within moments, the ceiling collapsed. When the dust and dirt finally cleared, the girl, coughing, stumbled to her feet. But she didn't have to walk far. Before her stood a pile of rocks and boulders that stretched all the way to the ceiling–cutting off both the way back and access to Auren!

Panic flooding her, the child stumbled forward and began to claw wildly at the rocks. But for every stone she displaced, another one rolled down. Finally, collapsing in exhaustion, she heard a distant yelling.

"Auren?" she cried back. "Get me out of here!"

His voice was muffled, but she could understand him at least. "Can't dig through, and the way back is blocked for me too! We're gonna have to split up!"

"Split–what?!" The girl might have smacked him if there hadn't been a wall in the way. "Who's to say there's one exit, much less two? We could both die down here!"

"We don't have much of a choice."

Sighing at his quip, the girl slumped against the rocks, burying her face into the dirt. No way, no way... After a moment she sat up. "Auren... What was that?"

It was silent on the other side of the wall for a minute. "I saw my dad. I know he's down here."

The girl bit her lip. "Your dad is dead." She knew that she had seen the ape, but something like that... This cave... is weird. Screwing with their sanity like that...

"I–I know. But... I have to be sure." The boy seemed to be turning away, his voice growing distant. "Let's get going. I'll see you on the surface, Fighter."

The girl remained where she lay, afraid to turn around and face the long labyrinth that lay behind her. "See you," she whispered.

When she could muster the will, she turned. The cave led down a long corridor with no halls, twisting and turning, and finally diving sharply to the left. It was much darker down there, so her luck at finding the light-crystals was running out. From now on, it was just her and the shadows.

I have come way too far to die down here. Taking a deep breath, the girl steeled herself, staring down the silence and the dark. She knew, somewhere to the right of her, through inches of dirt and stone, Auren was walking with her. So into the blackness she tramped on without fear.

~~...~~

"Okay Serena, here we go. All you have to do is say, 'Fighter fell down the ravine, and we need your help. We were out playing and'–no no, the details don't matter. Just gotta say it..."

The blue cheetah walked briskly down the street, wringing her paws as she tried to figure out what to say. The streets were deserted and all the houses were dark. "They're just normal dragons, like everyone else," she mumbled. "It's no big deal... Even though they're the strongest, bravest, most respected dragons in all of history..."

The child's eyes widened, and she decided to stop talking.

By the time she reached the imposing wooden door, Serena was on the edge of a meltdown. But, taking a deep breath, the girl managed to calm herself. Just stick exactly to the plan: knock on the door, explain who she was, and say what had happened to Fighter. She raised her paw to knock on the door, pasting a terrified smile onto her face.

Ignitus, who had decided to take a midnight walk, opened the door. Serena's smile dropped off her face, her paw frozen in the air. The two stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Finally, Ignitus awkwardly spoke up. "What do you need, young one?"

"Uh..." The plan, the plan... Well, that had been ruined the moment she missed knocking on the door! "M-My name is... It's Serena, and... A-and... U-u-umm..."

Seeing the stricken look on the child's face, the fire Guardian hesitantly offered, "Would you like to come in...?"

"N-no!" At Ignitus' bewildered look, she quickly blurted out, "There's a hole in the wall and Fighter fell down the ravine!"

Ignitus blinked, wondering if he should call the guards. "Who is, er... Fighter?"

The girl's eyes widened. I don't even know her real name?! "A-a-ahhh, w-well, you see...!" Serena began talking mindlessly, eyes wide, "There'saholeinthewallandwewentouttogototheforestbuttherewasaravineandFightertriedtojumpbutshefelldownandbythewayFighteristhecheetahgirlwholiveswithyousopleasehelp"

She then went into hysterics on the Guardians' doorstep.

Not sure what to do with the babbling child who was freaking out before him, Ignitus finally led her inside and put her on the couch. Once the other Guardians had been roused and the girl served tea, she finally began to relax.

"Now," the fire Guardian said carefully as if speaking to a child, sitting across from Serena after she had calmed down, "What is it you're trying to tell us?"

"Oh, r-right!" Serena, having sunken into the heavenly tea, had completely forgotten why she had come. She glanced warily at the looks the other three Guardians were giving her, but finally explained, "I'm a friend of... um... the cheetah girl in your charge."

Ignitus asked in concern, "Has something happened?"

"Y-yes! Exactly!" Taking a breath, Serena explained, "We went out a hole in the wall..."

"A hole in the wall?" Cyril interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

"It's true!" the cheetah exclaimed. "I can show you." She stood up swiftly, nearly knocking the table over. "She's in trouble, so let's go now! I'll explain on the way!"

The four dragons exchanged dubious glances, but this was a matter of the safety of their human friend. She was usually back by this time... So they had no choice but to follow.

"I swear to the ancestors, kid, if you're lying to us..." a tired Cyril grumbled as they walked along. Being pulled out of his warm bed to tramp through the streets of Warfang in the rain...

"I'm not lying!" Serena ran forward, into the backyard of the abandoned house, and pointed up. "See for yourself!"

They all stared. It was true; there was the hole. "Well, what do you know," Cyril said sarcastically.

Once the cheetah had climbed through the hole and the Guardians had flown over the wall, they continued into the woods. Serena's burst of confidence had melted, and she now walked timidly on before them, only raising her gaze from the ground to check for the claw marks Strider had left.

After they had been walking on in silence for a while, Volteer suggested, "You said that you would enlighten us on the fate of our young friend, Serena, did you not?"

Serena nodded. "Right. Um... Well, her and the rest of our group went through that hole–"

"Wait." Ignitus spoke up, eyes narrowed. "Describe your friends."

"Well, there's Auren and Tyren–they're brothers, and both ice dragons. Then there's Cedric, the mole who always carries a lute, and Strider; she's a mute shadow dragon..."

Ignitus nodded. He hadn't seen much of the girl's friends, but she was always chattering on about them, and it checked out. "Continue."

Serena picked up a branch and began to use it as a walking stick. "So we were walking together, and we found this ravine..." The cheetah looked away. "She didn't want to jump over, but everyone kept yelling at her, so... She did. And she fell down."

"Sounds like the sort of foolishness that girl would get herself into," the ice dragon grumbled.

Ignitus, though, was concerned. "Is she alright?"

Serena nodded. "I thought she had died, but... She's just banged up a little. They sent me to go get you... And that's the end."

The Guardians seemed to believe Serena now, and didn't bother her about her story anymore. Terrador, though, was having doubts. He fell back, whispering to the others, "How can we be sure that this child isn't pulling a trick, or even leading us into a trap?"

The earth Guardian glanced at the back of this cheetah child, dressed in drab robes. He had seen the apes use children as spies before, to lull victims into a false sense of security. It happened too many times to ignore the possibility.

Cyril, despite his own suspicion, spoke up. "I've seen her running off with that same mole that she described before."

"The names of her friends are right," Ignitus offered.

Even Volteer said, "I-I believe I myself have seen our friend with this very cheetah as well."

"Not to mention," Cyril said with a smirk, "Falling down a bloody ravine... Doesn't that sound just like the sort of nonsense that kid would get herself into?"

Placated, Terrador stepped back into place, but he still kept an eye on this cheetah. He wasn't taking any chances.

~~...~~

It felt like it had been days. Days since she had seen the moonlight, since she had breathed in cool air, since she had seen Auren's eyes pierce the dark. And maybe years since she had danced through that cool forest with her friends.

Indeed she could feel the draft, just like Auren had said. But whenever she sucked in a breath, the damp, thick underground air flooded her lungs.

There was no sound but the dripping of water from the ceiling. No light, only a thick, impenetrable darkness. She kept her arms out, because at any moment she could ram her nose into a rocky wall. It was odd, not knowing what was around her body. Like she was floating in space.

She had mostly calmed down, but the panic welled up into her throat. She felt like that first day at the Temple again. She'd been just as blind. Uncertain, not having any idea what fate awaited her in this world.

Well, if she didn't make it out of this cave, she would never find out.

Without thinking, the girl began to hum to calm herself. It was an old song she had made up for her sister, back when she was twelve or so. Many of the words were lost to her, but the tune stayed always in her head. Dad had spent the first few years mostly ignoring his daughters, but as the eldest began to grow up, it became easier to shift the blame. She'd never even lost her baby fat; she still looked like a kid even now... But it was enough for him.

After that, Lily had gone quiet for a long time. She was spared the physical blows, but the screaming could reach through walls to grab her.

Their childhoods had always been filled with singing. A long time ago, they had sung little songs together. Even longer before that, the girl had sung baby Lily to sleep, when Mom was around and Dad was still nice. So, one cloudy day while they were sitting on the beach, the girl combing her younger sister's hair with a seashell, she began to sing that song.

It became a lullaby, whispered on the nights where she kept the door locked and held her sister close. And now, it was a song to guide her through the dark.

The girl blinked as her stretched-out hands hit a wall. She felt along both ways to see where the turn was, but she quickly realized that it split into two. Which way did she go?

She nearly hit the ceiling when she heard footsteps. Scrambling back into the hall, she drew her sword. "Auren?" she called out hesitantly.

No response but the shuffle of dirt and sand and the crunch of rocks.

Her head turned to the right. There, down that hall, was just the faintest hint of light–and, blocking the path, was a small shadow.

The girl squinted and sheathed her sword. It was... a cheetah kid? She stepped forward, reaching out her hand. "Hey, kid... What are you doing down here?"

The child stepped back. Her face, in the wan light, was impossibly smooth–the girl's eyes widened as memories crashed to the surface. And she remembered it, remembered those wide brown eyes, that blonde hair that flowed down her back like a river, that sweet face, so full of hope and light and–and...

Spinning around, the child ran away, and her sister snapped out of her reverie. "Lily!" she cried, taking off after her. "Lily–wait!"

She chased her through the halls, the light growing stronger, but though she ran as fast as she could, the little girl was always one step ahead. But, even when she stumbled and fell to the ground, scraping her face on the stones, she could just keep up.

Finally, as they rounded a corner into a room with glowing crystals bursting from the walls, the girl caught her. "Lily," she gasped, crouching down and holding her by the arm, "It's me, remember?"

That wide-eyed stare was infinite, unending. "I'm your sister," the girl whispered, tilting her head. "It's me. I never thought to look for you here, Lil... I never thought that you came with me–"

The child pressed her face into her sister's chest, and the girl let go of her arm, pulling her into a tight hug. She was so warm, so real. She smelled like strawberries–just like that last day, when she had stumbled out of the woods with leaves stuck in her hair.

The older girl had always told her sister not to wander through the wild strawberry patch; it was full of roses and thorns. Even now she could still see the scratches on her arms. As she brushed her hand over her sister's blonde locks, the leaves and twigs fell to the ground.

"It's gonna be okay, Lily," the girl said tearfully, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I promised I would always take care of you, right? So, now that you're here, I won't let you be alone anymore."

Her sister held her tighter, and the girl felt tears welling up. "We won't have to see Dad anymore. You're safe here, and I'll always protect you. I can even teach you to use a sword too–wouldn't that be funny?" The girl laughed tearfully and sniffed. "We'll live with the Guardians... You'd love them! They live in Warfang, the biggest city ever."

The girl smiled and opened her eyes, dreaming of the future now that her sister was here. "And my friends couldn't get enough of you. You and Tyren could be best friends, I bet. I could bring you to visit them every night, and we'd have the best of times. Maybe someday, you, me, Auren, and Tyren can visit the ocean."

Realizing that she was rambling, the teenager wiped away her tears and pulled her sister close. "This is our home now. We don't have to ever go back, if you don't want to..." The little girl was silent, and her sister shut her eyes tightly, afraid to open them. "We can always be together in this world..." Why, all of a sudden, did she feel so cold, so hollow? "And I promise, I'll take care of you... I'll never leave you ever again..."

The tears were running down her face now, dripping onto the floor. Her arms were shaking as she held them tight, refusing to let go.

"...So, let's be happy here forever, okay?"

She opened her eyes, unfolding the arms that were clasped tight across her chest. There was nothing there but echoes. Not even warmth on the ground where her sister had sat. Only teardrops.

It was there, in the blinding light where the illusion of her sister had lain, that the girl collapsed onto the ground. Her body shook as she sobbed, gravel marring her hair, completely and utterly broken.

Because that happy dream was all she had wished for. A dream where the people she loved all lived in one world, and they could be together with her forever and ever. But the bridge she had crossed into this world, she would cross alone. And once she turned and stepped back into the human world... She knew that she would not be returning.

All those happy days she had spent with the Guardians, the things she had learned from them, the friendship she'd made, even just the quiet moments they'd had... Auren and Tyren's contagious laughter, Serena's big hope to change the world, Cedric's endless teasing, Strider's secret talent... All of those things would be lost forever.

Someday, that girl would have to make a choice she didn't want to make, a choice she already knew the answer to.

At least, for a moment, she'd had the chance to dream of a perfect future that would never be. But now it was gone, and reality left her crumpled on the ground, alone.

~~...~~

It had been quite a while since Auren and that weird girl had disappeared down the ravine, and Strider was beginning to get anxious.

She, Cedric, and Tyren had taken shelter under the nearby forest once the stormclouds had opened fire. Earlier she'd heard vague shouting coming from the ravine, but she couldn't convey this information. Since then, it had been quiet. She knew that this hole could fill fast during rainstorms, and who knew if they had found the dark, hidden cave? Or if it had been flooded as well?

Shifting, the shadow girl prodded Cedric, pointing to the ravine once she had his attention. The mole raised an eyebrow, then, misinterpreting her, said, "Don't worry, Strider. They'll be alright."

The girl sighed but didn't press the issue.

But soon enough, as they all stared boredly at the horizon peppered with puffy dark stormclouds, something interesting finally happened. Through the woods popped out Serena, looking quite jubilant, followed by four tired-looking Guardians.

"Well, the girl did it!" Cedric said under his breath. Striding to the edge of the ravine, the mole waved and yelled, "Hallo there, hallo! Ah, Mr. Ice Guardian," he bowed, winking, "we meet again!"

As Cyril glared, the others approached the edge, and Serena went to check on her friends. However, within moments of peeking down the hole, everyone jumped as the cheetah's scream ripped through the air.

"Serena, what in the world..." Cedric peered over the edge with the rest of them, and even he went silent and wide-eyed. Half the ravine was filled with a torrent of water, rushing and daring to drag anyone who touched it to the depths.

Everyone was quiet, the group of misfits wondering how to tell little Tyren that his brother may have been drowned, but the Guardians took initiative.

"Everyone, walk along and see if you can spot them in the water! We'll fly down and see if we can find them," Terrador said. Or their bodies, he thought grimly. As the children stared at him, he shouted, "Move!" and took off.

And so they spent the next half-hour walking along and peering into the depths, but no sign of the pair came up. Everyone was pensive and silent, wishing they hadn't left the walls. It was amazing how fast this night had gone from a silly adventure, to a bit of a predicament, to the real possibility that two kids were dead. Though Strider didn't look terribly worried

But the search produced no results. Auren and Fighter were nowhere to be found, but at least their drowned corpses hadn't turned up. A naive Tyren was explaining how they could just float to the top when the Guardians appeared again.

"No sign of them," said Ignitus, much to everyone's mixture of relief and anxiety, "but we found a cave and the ashes of a recent fire."

"Prob'ly leads to the surface," Cedric mumbled. "I've done a bit of cave-diving meself... Once I fell down into a pit, but sure enough, the cave down there led right back out."

Ignitus nodded. "Volteer, we have a few topographical maps of the area, do we not?" At the other Guardian's nod, Ignitus turned. "Then we'll take these children home and get those maps on the way back."

Taking their cue, the four kids jumped back over the ravine and followed the Guardians into the forest. They were all pretty happy to pass this issue onto the adults. Only Auren looked back hesitantly, not wanting to leave his brother behind, but he didn't want to argue with his idols.

As they neared Warfang, Terrador spoke up. "Where do each of your parents live?"

At this, the group exchanged glances, eyebrows raised. When no one responded, Terrador looked back. "You all got yourselves into this mess, so shirking responsibility won't help you–"

"Mr. Guardian, I hate to interrupt," Cedric said, grinning coyly, "But none of us have got any parents."

At the earth Guardian's speechless silence, the mole continued, "I appreciate the escort, but you may as well drop me off as soon as we arrive. I sleep wherever I feel like it. Strider here doesn't even live in Warfang." The black dragon looked away.

Serena grimaced. "I live at the orphanage," she said hesitantly. "But please don't wake the headmistress! She's awful mean."

"Auren said not to worry Mama," Tyren said innocently, eyes wide. "Because after dad died she's been not quite right in the head. I don't know what 'not quite right in the head' means, but I bet it's real bad."

Realizing just what kind of group he was speaking to, Terrador sighed. "Never mind, then," he said. "But you're the brother of the dragon who's missing? We'll have to wake your mother up."

Tyren said nothing, but he looked worried. Mama wasn't going to like this.

~~...~~

Blind in the dark she wandered. Alone and numb, not feeling the steps she landed on the cold ground. She couldn't be sure what was real and what wasn't anymore. It could have been centuries since she had last seen Auren's smile, heard his voice across a wall of stone. Or had that been fake, too?

She didn't know whether her eyes were closed or open. She didn't know whether she was walking straight, or if she was even going anywhere at all. She just walked.

And so it was for a long time.

Eventually, she saw a bit of light emanating around the corner. At least there was another crystal patch, a brief reprieve for her light-hungering eyes. She couldn't know if these lights were leading her anywhere at all, but it was something, at least.

The girl blinked as she saw a blur disappearing around the wall, so fast that she almost missed it. Though she squinted, only rocks lay before her. Stepping forward quickly, she rounded the corner, covering her eyes at the blinding light.

At the end of the hall stood a little black dragon, cloaked in shadow and barely visible. The girl tilted her head and sighed. "Another illusion, huh?" She swallowed. Her voice was cracked; thirst was crawling up her throat. "I knew the other two, so who are you?"

The child only stared, so the girl stepped forward. Immediately the dragon turned and sprinted away towards the T-section at the end of the hall, and–was it just a delusion, or had she just run straight into the wall? The girl ran forward, hands out, but her arms hit only dirt and stone.

She traced her fingers down the wall, stopping as she realized that something was carved shallowly into the stone. It was... An arrow, pointing left. And indeed, light seemed to be pouring in from that direction. So, turning, the girl followed the wall's instructions. Why not?

Finally, she reached a little alcove. The ceiling was low and she had to squeeze in, but it was bright and there was a small pool in the corner. Crawling over, the drooling girl hunched over it, drinking ravenously from her cupped hands.

When her thirst was quenched and her shaking, blurring vision had cleared up a bit, she looked around. She realized that this was a kind of storage room; all sorts of things lay on the floor, piled near the corners. Crawling over, the girl picked them up, tracing her fingers over the keepsakes.

There were stacks of letters–combined with her tenuous knowledge of the dragon language and the low lighting, she couldn't read them. There was a little doll of a black dragon with button eyes. The cloth was soft patchwork, ripped in some places, so gently she pushed the stuffing back in. A jagged sword that matched the appearance of ape weaponry lay on a stack of old, torn cloaks fit for a young dragon, and...

Hidden under the pile was a dagger. The hilt and blade alike looked to be made of a glassy material similar to obsidian–it must have been something stronger to hold up in a real fight... Unless it was the sort of weapon that only saw action in sneak attacks, not real battles. Tracing the smooth weapon, she felt something flaking off. Something like old blood, cracked and dried from years of age.

Gulping, the girl carefully put the items back and turned away. There were two entrances into this room, and in the exit the black hatchling was waiting for her, staring. As she crawled over, the dragon turned away and skipped off into the darkness.

She reached another T-section, but this time she knew to check the walls. Carefully, tracing her fingers into the hollows, she read, F-O-L-L-O-W-T-H-E-L-I-G-H-T-S

A message that had been carved in, long, long ago, by little, shaking claws. A message that had been forgotten for so long, as its author learned these caves like the back of her paw, but would guide this lost girl to the surface.

On the right, a few crystals were visible, so she followed the stone's advice. From there on, every turn she found, the gems were there to guide her. Perhaps they were formed with the help of oxygen, because the longer she walked, the more clusters appeared, and the stronger the draft became. Either way, at every step, she could see that little black dragon trotting along in front of her, just out of sight.

As the girl rounded the last corner, she sucked in a deep breath, staring up the slope to the wide, wide entrance. She could see the stars.

And she ran, as if the entrance might close before her, ran right up that steep slope, bursting into the cool fall air. Her arms were spread wide like a statue, feeling the raindrops pricking her face as she gasped in the sweet air. She had made it to the surface. She was safe.

As the girl turned, she caught one last glimpse of that little black dragon, staring at her silently. She looked down at her fingers. Black smears covered them, like graphite from a drawing pencil. Eyes widening, the teenager stepped forward with her arm out, but the hatchling turned and disappeared into the cavern. The shadows swallowed her whole, and she was forgotten.

As the sun began to dawn on the horizon, Auren emerged deliriously from the entrance, blinking as he stepped slowly into the early morning light. The girl crouched down and, wordlessly, the two embraced. She didn't need to ask him what he had seen in that cave; she didn't need to know. They had each gone on their own journeys in there, but they had come out alive. And she could feel that the cave had changed him too.

The two stood together, staring into the forest all around them. "Looks like our adventure isn't over yet," Auren said, looking about. They had no idea where they were, or what direction they were facing; that cave had turned them all about. They could be halfway to Avalar, or just a mile from Warfang.

"May it never end," the girl said seriously.

Auren snorted. "So formal, you are." Smiling, he pointed to the sun peeking over the tops of the trees. Warfang had that strange quality about it: no matter where you stood, it always seemed to have the sunrise behind it. "Shall we find out?"

So, together, the two friends walked off, knowing their adventures together had only just begun.

~~...~~

"Oh ancestors, oh ancestors! My baby, my poor baby boy... What will I do without my silly little Auren... Please be alright, my sweet little boy..."

"Miss, uh..."

The old lady choked out a sob. "Dia, name's Dia."

"Miss Dia," Ignitus said kindly but carefully, "There is very little to worry about. It would take them two hours, maybe more, just to escape the cave... And even if they are out by now, they couldn't have walked more than a mile in any direction."

The deep blue water dragon, with a pensive Tyren riding on her back, didn't look convinced, so Ignitus continued, "If we don't find them soon, then I promise you we'll have a hundred-mole search team out here by noon."

This seemed to placate the anxious mother, so the two walked along quietly once more.

The Guardians, with Auren and Tyren's mother in tow, had been sweeping the forest for hours. Thanks to Volteer's maps, they were able to find the entrance to the cave, but footsteps led out into the forest and were washed away by the rain that had only just stopped.

Of course they'd had to drop those kids off first, though that went quick enough; the mole boy had departed with a bow upon climbing through the hole. The cheetah girl's orphanage wasn't far away, and once she had seen her friend climb through the window, that silent black dragon had disappeared without a word–Ignitus turned around and she was gone.

Then of course there was the matter of trying to covertly lead a hysterical mother through Warfang without attracting any attention to themselves–"not quite right in the head" indeed. It had certainly been quite a night.

At least the human was alright. The footsteps from her odd shoes had led off with tracks from a dragon paw, so that meant she was alive. For now, anyhow.

Although, over Dia's weeping, the old dragon managed to hear something. Narrowing his eyes, he turned towards the sound. Voices from the west... Perhaps they were nearby.

Veering them off course, Ignitus and Dia broke through the foliage into a clearing. There, turned away from them, the girl and Auren were cresting a hill. Dia shrieked at the sight of them, causing her son to blink and look back. "Uh... Mom?"

"AUREEEEEEEEEN!"

The girl stumbled backwards as she was nearly knocked down the hill by the rampaging mother. Tyren couldn't get to Auren in the excitement, so he settled for jumping on the girl instead, who hugged the kid with 100% sincerity if a bit of confusion at the explosive family reunion.

"Not the horns, not the horns, Ma!" Auren cried as he was dragged down the hill immediately after their embrace ended.

His mother ignored him. "I cannot believe you did this, young dragon! When we get home, you are absolutely grounded until the end of the war–I declare, you gave me the biggest of frights, and–oh, I'm so glad you're okay, my dear hatchie!"

"Moooom!" Auren groaned, shaking himself free. "I'm not a little kid anymore, geez..."

Realizing that she was being stared at by both Ignitus and the girl, Dia turned towards them. Trying to avoid getting crushed, the girl adjusted her hood and said quickly, "I'm sorry for getting Auren into this mess–"

"Whaaat? Don't be silly, my child!" The girl found herself rather suddenly being squished into a bear hug. "Thank you for helping my son!"

"I... Didn't really do anything...!" the girl gasped, panting as she was finally released.

"Well, anyway!" Dia grabbed Auren's horn again, eliciting a cry from the boy. "Young dragon, we're going to get you home for a bath right now, you smell like you've been rolling in the attic! Oh, I've missed you so, my dear!"

"You were asleep!"

Ignitus and his human friend stared after them, until their cries had faded into the forest. "Well," the fire Guardian said with raised eyebrows, leading them down the path, "We had better find the others." Glancing over at the girl, he noticed that her mood had turned rather suddenly stony. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, crossing her arms. "Just forget it."

Ignitus blinked. "Forget about it?" he asked tilting his head and sighing. "We were all worried about you. You should never have left the wall, young one. According to what those other children said, you could easily have died–"

"Sometimes people do stupid things, okay?!" the girl snapped, stopping. A confused Ignitus shut his mouth. "People make mistakes–horrible mistakes, and it's not really their fault, but they–" Realizing that she was blinking back tears, the teenager spun around. "It's just that, good people can do bad things, and people get killed, and it's their fault but it isn't, and–and–"

The Guardian stared. He didn't fully understand the reason behind the well of anger inside this child, but he was beginning to understand her. "You're talking about me, aren't you?"

The girl leaned against a tree for a moment, then slid down it, staring up at the dim sky. "I didn't know you took them," she whispered. "I knew about the raid, of course I did. I never blamed you for that." She wiped her eyes. "But after learning you stole the eggs, I... I just... That wasn't right!"

Ignitus sat down, sighing as he was forced to confront a memory he tried his best to forget. "Do you think that I don't agree?"

The anger that had flared in her eyes sputtered out. "Why?" She covered her face. "Why did you take them?"

The Guardian smiled bitterly. "I ask myself that every day." He paused. "There is no justification for what we did, only reason."

"And the reason?"

"To save dragonkind, of course. From our point of view, it was the only logical thing to do. No parent wanted to give up their children–of course not." It was quiet for a while. "But we only assisted in its destruction. Why anyone has forgiven us, I will never know."

The girl closed her eyes, allowing herself to go back and stand in their place. Dragonkind was on the brink of destruction; with an all-out genocide taking place, who better to protect the next generation than the Guardians? If they hadn't taken the eggs... With so few dragons around, their parents must all be dead by now. Would those children have survived long anyway? If they had done nothing–would the same number of people still died?

Even if what they had done was horrible–their hearts had been in the right place, right? Didn't that count for something?

"I shouldn't have brought it up," she mumbled, standing. "I don't actually blame you, I just–I was mad. I don't know." The girl looked away. "My friends, Auren and Strider–they'd both be dead."

"Indeed." Ignitus turned away, continuing down the path. "It's a rarity to see children their age, but I'm glad that we failed to find them." He sighed deeply. "Anyhow, it's good to face one's demons, as some would call it."

The girl caught up. She closed her eyes, seeing him looming over her, seeing her sister fading away into air. These images that followed her constantly, tormenting her. "I disagree," she muttered.

Ignitus glanced at her. "If you cannot forgive yourself, then they will haunt you forever."

There was silence between them for a while, but something else was on the girl's mind. She looked up at him, considering keeping her mouth shut, but it tumbled out before she could stop it. "What happened to the other children?"

The dragon stopped in his tracks and looked back at her in surprise, and she stuttered, "Terrador–h-he told me there were others, that you protected."

Ignitus closed his eyes. "Yes, there were others." The girl waited, and he said finally, "There were five. I can only assume that they're all dead."

She gulped, not sure if she was ready to hear this story, but the fire dragon continued, "The first was a cheetah, barely a cub. Cyril found him alone, facing off against one of the monsters in Dante's Freezer–practically just born, yet standing up to a creature three times his size." Ignitus smiled briefly, lost in a memory.

"He was brave, for his age; we had to stop him from running off to join the war many times. One day, he was chasing down a frogweed near the Temple. He slipped and fell into a ravine–rather like you. But he was too young to survive. And that was the end for him.

"The second, a boy about eight years old who'd been abandoned by his parents. He'd escaped us, much like your friend Auren, and he only spent a few months with us before he learned what we had done. We had just travelled to Warfang. He ran away into the forest, and we never saw him again.

"The third, a teenage girl, a bit older than you. We don't know where she came from; she showed up at the Temple one day looking half-starved to death, and she never left. She didn't say much, but we all enjoyed her company. She was one of those rare creatures who are naturally kind without having to try. Then, she took a walk one day, and just like she had come–she left without a word.

"Finally, the fourth and fifth, a twin boy and girl, found lost in the forest a few days walk from Warfang. They were both cheerful, kind children." Ignitus closed his eyes. "Their deaths were... entirely my fault. We Guardians had to all split up and travel to different cities, and the children wanted to come with me. I should never have agreed–the walk to that city is a long, cold one, to a town in the mountains. They were weak, and I was tired.

"I fell asleep before they did–the two wandered off, as it was still light out, and... I woke up within minutes, but..." Ignitus swallowed. "The apes found them before I did."

The girl stared in shock, and Ignitus continued somberly, "This was all before Cynder. After that, there was Spyro, who I can only hope is alive, and then–there is you." He looked at her, but soon turned away. "So, there you have it. As for your fate, I am not yet certain."

With his story over, the dragon fell into silence. The girl stared at the ground as she walked along. What an awful legacy–perhaps that was why the Guardians had been so reluctant to take her in. They didn't want her to become just another dead kid.

She could see them now; all of those children stood before her, watching her to see what she would do and what would happen. Would she join them someday, or show the tenacity to survive? Would she be the last? Would she be remembered? Would she lash out with anger at one of those who had allowed them to die? The girl blinked, and they were gone. Those kids may be a part of her... But it was her decision, right?

The girl looked up with determination, clenching her fists. "I forgive you," she said gravely. When Ignitus looked at her in amazement, she smiled weakly. "I know–you don't need my forgiveness, nor does it even matter... I mean, I'm an outsider, and I don't even deserve to judge you, good or bad."

"But..." She closed her eyes. "For whatever it's worth, I forgive you."

And, well, maybe that was all that he needed.

This child wasn't just a face in the crowd–she was one of them, the Guardians' children, the horrible downward spiral. Thanks to the people who were supposed to protect them, all of those kids had stood up to the executioner's block, and this girl was next in line.

Ignitus had failed them all: the eggs who had been smashed thanks to his own negligence, and then, those children whose lopsided smiles had long faded. And even now, sometimes he looked at this girl and saw a ghost–she had doomed herself by choosing them, and she was already dead for it.

But she had forgiven him–despite what he had done, despite all of his failures, despite the fact that he had allowed the children who had come before her to die–she still forgave him.

If she could do that... Well, perhaps the others would too. He could only hold onto hope, but that was certainly better than nothing. Much better than the self-doubt he felt every day, for everything he had ever done wrong. If he could keep this girl safe, make sure that she and Spyro lived to see the end of the war, then maybe someday... He could forgive himself.

So, as they walked along together, the old Guardian and the girl who he promised himself that he would not let down this time, Ignitus held on.

Chapter Text

The girl managed to escape the wrath of the other three Guardians–although she acquired permanent hearing loss in the process. Of course, leaving the walls had been a dumb decision, but it certainly wasn't her fault that she had fallen down; just bad luck, that was all.

They couldn't disagree with that, so she made it out with only a stern "don't do it again". She wasn't sure whether she would heed this command or not, but she knew that she certainly was not going near a ravine ever again.

When she crawled up onto the wall, everyone was looking fairly back to normal, if a bit more serious than usual. But she was surprised to be tackled by a blue blur the moment she got her bearings.

"Fighter, you're okay!" Serena exclaimed, pulling her friend up.

The girl rubbed her sore head that had been knocked onto the stone. "Well, of course I am. Didn't Auren tell you?"

"I wasn't sure if I could believe him. Auren tells stories sometimes..." Serena said with a sideways glance. Strider nodded in agreement.

"Whoa, whoa now!" the ice dragon cried, offended. She'd seen a more serious side of him in the cave, but now he was back to himself. "Don't get me and Cedric mixed up!"

"I've only ever stretched the truth, dragon!" Cedric pointed a long, unknown vegetable at Auren. "You, sir, can tell an absolute fib."

"How dare you, Mr. I Climbed the Mountain of Malefor–"

"Anyway." Serena cleared her throat and shot the boys a nasty look. "Fighter made it out, and that's all that matters."

The girl snorted and crossed her arms. "Yeah, after you guys ditched me."

"If anything," Cedric interjected, "You two lovebirds ditched us. What were you doin' in that cave, anyway?" He flashed a grin, raising his eyebrows.

"W-wha?! As if!"

The rest of the night was filled with friendly arguing and pleasant conversation. For now, the gang seemed content to go back to chit-chat and exploring Warfang. There would be more messes and predicaments, more scrapes to get into, but for now, things were peaceful... At least for a little while. And she was happy with that.

~~...~~

A few days after the ravine incident, things were mostly back to normal. The girl was still a little bit sore, a fact she was painfully reminded of when she skipped the last two stairs, and the scar on her face was beginning to look permanent. But other than that, her calm daily life had resumed.

Which was why she was a bit dismayed to not even elicit a smile out of the Guardians for her antics. They were all huddled together around the living room table, whispering about something-or-other. Figuring it was just more boring politics, the girl headed into the kitchen to grab some breakfast.

When she came back through the doorway, munching on an apple, the four had finally broken apart. Now they just looked a bit worried.

"Rise and shine," Cyril said dryly. "We're going on a field trip, it seems."

The girl just stared, so Ignitus picked up, "The council has summoned us for an immediate meeting."

"Mmkay," the girl mumbled, swallowing her food and plopping down in a cushion. "Have fun. Don't die of boredom."

Terrador looked at her. "All of us."

The girl blinked, wide-eyed. "When?"

"Now."

Though still a bit confused by the oddness of the sudden summons, and even more so the Guardians' short speech, she quickly gathered up her things. As they headed for the door, Ignitus turned to her.

"This meeting was called by your friend Tarrok," the fire Guardian said grimly, "So I think we have a good idea what it will be about."

They walked slowly through the streets, to the councilhouse on the other side of the city. As they tramped on over the muddy pavement, with every step they took, dread filled the girl. She felt like she was headed to her execution. Normally sky-gazing calmed her down, but even that was no reprieve; it was just a blurry, flat grey as far as the eyes could see. As she looked up, tiny raindrops fell onto her face.

Tarrok, calling a meeting that she was required at? Surely it was just another smear campaign–but what dirt could he possibly have on her?

At least, in the hazy after-storm conditions, Warfang was mostly empty. Of course it made the walk rather dreary; she couldn't get lost in her daydreams when the towers loomed against the grey sky, and the once-golden streets were tracked with mud.

But soon, the councilhouse emerged on the horizon, its stately architecture standing proud against the sky. It was certainly an imposing building, the sort of place children shy away from, too large and empty even for their big imaginations.

There were only five stairs, but each step seemed a mile tall. By the time she was standing at the top of the steps, her legs were weary. As she glanced backwards at the city, heading through the great open archways into the interior, she thought that this may be her last glimpse of the outside world.

Well–it's not like Tarrok was going to throw her into a dungeon! The girl mentally smacked herself. It was just a meeting; there was nothing to be scared of.

The entrance room was filled with a variety of important-looking people milling about, with guards at every doorway. The girl pulled her hood lower. She didn't fit in, that was for sure. She sandwiched herself in between the Guardians, where she wouldn't be noticed.

They were quickly escorted to a small white room, as boring as a bank's waiting room. The windows were set too high in the wall to be looked out of, and there was nothing but a few chairs and empty tables–and not to mention a few paintings of the most dull and irritating variety: random pictures of fruit. She'd thought that waiting rooms had been bad in the human world, but at least they'd had magazines, however bland she found the content!

Still, she sat herself down on a stuffy, firm cushion and leaned on the table. Once the escorts had gone, she complained, "How long do we have to stay here?"

"Hush," Ignitus said firmly but not unkindly, looking about twice as bored as she did. "They may be listening."

The room was silent for several beats. The only sound was Volteer tapping his claws on the table. Once the girl was done fussing with her pillow some more, she looked about. Everyone looked tense. Was she missing something? It was just a silly meeting, right? An inconvenience–nothing more.

The girl sighed, slumping onto the table. "What should I... expect?"

The fire Guardian paused, considering. "They may ask you a few questions. Speak only when spoken to. Answer clearly and honestly..." He leaned closer to her, and said softly, "To an extent."

Getting the message, she nodded. "Is this some sort of trial?"

"Something like that," Terrador muttered. "Tarrok will do whatever he can to make us look bad, even–" The normally quiet earth dragon shut his mouth before he could say any more.

It was silent again. Distant chatter came through the closed doors, but even that couldn't quite reach them. The girl fidgeted uncomfortably, staring down at the grey table. "I'm sorry if I did anything to cause this–"

"It isn't your fault, young one," Volteer said quickly, looking much more somber than usual. "The council is after us, not you; to them, you are just a pawn to bring us down."

Her fists clenched under the table and she had to bite her tongue. She didn't want to be that, a catalyst to drag her friends down–she wouldn't be, she wouldn't let them–

The door opened suddenly, making all of them jump. A somber-looking cheetah stepped in. "They are ready for you," he said simply.

As the Guardians rose, the girl followed, every step heavy. They went back into the main room, approaching an entryway with large, closed doors. What would happen to her when she stepped through that doorway? Everything she said, anything she did–anything she had done in the past–it could be used against her and her friends.

One wrong word, and the Guardians might go down with her.

The doors opened with a long creak, and they stepped into the room. It rather reminded her of a human courtroom–high ceilings, pillars at each corner, and rows and rows of long cushions. Presiding over it all was a dais containing a long row of desks, shifting downwards every few seats. There was one high seat, then a little lower on each side of that seat were two, then on each side of those seats were one again.

There were seven people sitting there, almost all staring with detached suspicion. As they approached the raised area, the Guardians stopped, nearly tripping the girl who had been staring about. The door slammed behind them, causing her to jump and stiffen.

All of a sudden, Cyril leaned over and whispered, "Bow." That gave her a bit of a fright too, but she did, and the "court" seemed to be placated.

She and the Guardians shuffled over to a row of cushions and sat. The girl stared up at the people, examining each face. Some were familiar–besides Tarrok, of course, who sat on the lowest seat on the right. Kerridan, the nice earth dragon who had escorted the Guardians to their new home, sat in the very highest seat. Tyra, the serious ice dragon, sat a little lower to his left. Those two, at least, looked more sympathetic than suspicious–but the rest of them, dragons and cheetahs and moles alike, did not look very nice.

Still, this "council" entity she had been so afraid of–it had only been seven people? Seven people she could have picked off the streets, and they held so much power?

It was quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, as the councilmembers shuffled around papers and wrote things down. The girl felt like she was on fire, but she did not shift or fidget in her seat.

Finally, Tyra stood, saying in a loud voice, "We are beginning the 57th Closed Meeting of 1E 764, on this day Novirda the fifth, at approximately 4:37 M."

All this date stuff went over the girl's head, but she was pretty sure it was about 10 AM.

"This meeting has been called by Lower Councilmember Tarrok. Councilmember Abbatt shall keep the time," Tyra gestured to a female mole on the second row, "Councilmember Nalure shall keep the script," she motioned at an orange cheetah holding a quill like his life depended on it, "and Councilmember Bali shall keep the log." Tyra nodded at the mole sitting next to her.

There was a pause as the ice dragon caught her breath. "The council is presided over by Council-leader Kerridan," she said, sitting down. "This meeting has commenced."

Wait. The girl gawked, just barely catching herself from making a face. That silly earth dragon, who had seemed more like your typical TV dad than anything–he was the leader of the council?!

Kerridan, shuffling papers around as if to stall, finally spoke up. Jovial or not, he was all business now. "Tarrok, as you are the one who has called this emergency meeting, please speak of your motivation in doing so."

"Thank you, Kerridan," Tarrok said as dryly as usual, standing. "I called this meeting because I am concerned."

Bullshit, the girl thought. When Ignitus' tail gave her a warning tap on the back, she frowned. I'm not going to say anything...!

"...I am concerned for Warfang; I am concerned for the Guardians; but, most of all, I am concerned about their young protégée." Tarrok's eyes bored into her and she shifted uncomfortably. "She's caused quite a stir among this city."

She didn't have to just stand on trial silently and take it, did she? Hesitantly, she raised her hand. "If I may...?"

"Speak, child," Kerridan said.

"I don't mean to cause harm to anyone. I mostly keep to myself." The girl paused, thinking. "Sometimes I'll take walks with the Guardians, or play with my friends, but for the most part... I just stay inside."

"Ah, yes, your friends..." Tarrok glared. "We'll get to that."

The girl glanced at the Guardians, but none of them were looking at her. It seems she'd followed protocol well enough. She noticed that after every statement, they paused; it seemed that was her time to interject.

"Tarrok," Kerridan said, sounding slightly annoyed, "Please explain the evidence you bring to accuse this child of being a problem."

"Well, to begin," the cheetah said, "She's displayed much moodiness and temper at every occasion I've seen her."

Cyril huffed. "If I may be so bold," he said sarcastically, "All children display these same symptoms."

The girl bit her tongue to keep the smile off her face. If someone had told her that one day Cyril would be defending her in court... Well, she knew the Guardians were the only ones who could get away with a statement like that; she'd better keep it formal.

"And," Tarrok continued, ignoring him, "there have been several occasions I can confirm that mark a history of odd or immoral behaviour... Even more than what I know for sure of are the rumours."

"Tarrok," Kerridan said tensely, "We do not allow rumours to persist in this chamber. Speak only in fact."

The cheetah seethed, but he said shortly, "Yes, Council-leader Kerridan."

"You may continue."

"To begin," said Tarrok gravely, "I do not believe that this child is a cheetah at all–but something else entirely. Perhaps an ape spy."

The councilmembers rustled and whispered between each other at this odd accusation. Smiling triumphantly, he continued, "Besides the discord she has sown in this city, she has also had issues reading our standard language, as I personally witnessed, and she wears that cloak at all times–appears to be furless underneath, just like the face of an ape. I demand we have her remove it immediately."

The council began to talk quietly, Kerridan leaning over to whisper to Tyra. The Guardians glanced at the girl, who... didn't seem to be at all worried, oddly. In fact, her eyes blazed confidence to shatter Tarrok's credibility.

Finally, Tyra stood, announcing in a booming voice, "The council has conceded to give the child three basic tests to determine her species. First, we will check her ability to read."

A little dragon servant, who had been in the corner watching the spectacle, scuttled up the dais. Upon hearing his instructions, he ran out of the room, and soon returned with a pamphlet that he handed to the girl.

"Please read that aloud," Kerridan said.

The girl smiled; she'd been practicing. After the encounter with Tarrok, no more chances would be taken. "'Citizens of Warfang, the Winter Festival is approaching quickly. A parade funded by the Council shall begin in Angtor's Square, and travel along the map shown below. Any Dancers, Music-Players, and Pyrotechnicians who wish to participate, please visit the Councilhouse immediately'..."

Kerridan waved his paw. "Alright, enough."

"The child has passed," Tyra announced. "Next, she will be tested on her knowledge of basic cheetah lore and customs."

Is this a standardized process? the girl thought. Did they have to fill an annual quota of "Ape Spies Secretly Posing As Cheetahs Caught"?

Being a cheetah himself, Tarrok would be the one questioning her. "What are the three gods that govern all cheetahs in this world?"

The girl rose when beckoned. Finally, all that back-and-forth with the Guardians, her endless questions about the lore of this world, were paying off. "The first god is Serenity, goddess of Life, Love, and Relationships. She gives life to cheetahs, and furthers all things that bring us joy in this world."

She paused, swallowing as she blanked for a moment, but finally regained her bearings. "The second is Wilde, god of Nature, the Open Sky, the Harvest, and Storms. He governs the natural world, and gives essence to all flora and lesser creatures.

"Finally, there is Demi, goddess of Death, and she who is responsible for recycling the essence of lesser creatures and assisting cheetahs in their passage to the afterlife."

Tarrok glared at her once her speech was done. "Well, that is only the first question! What is the first tenet of–"

"Alright, Tarrok," Kerridan said flatly, cutting him off. "That's enough; she's shown her knowledge."

"Everyone knows about the three gods!"

"Would an ape?" Kerridan glared, and Tarrok stared back just as hard. Finally, the earth dragon sighed. "I am sorry, child, but I must now ask you to remove your hood."

The girl, still standing, stood straight. "I cannot."

"And why," Tarrok hissed, "is that?"

She swallowed. The girl could only pray this would work now–Serenity, help me out? "This cloak," she began timidly, "is very personal to me. Even before the raid on my village that burned me and killed my family, I wore it always."

At the mention of a raid, some of the councilmembers were melting with pity. Her story would give her that leverage. "Even after this event, I–and this cloak–survived. But I was horribly disfigured. My face under this hood is horrifying to witness, which is why I must wear it forever now.

"I have taken a personal vow to always wear my covers in public. I want people to look at me and see an oddly-dressed cheetah, but a cheetah nonetheless... Not as a victim, or someone to take pity on, but just a person like every other."

The girl sat then. Her confidence wavered, but she fought to keep it up. The council resumed their whispering, and after a few tense seconds, they seemed to all unanimously nod. Tarrok sat down with a huff as Tyra stood.

"The council has decided to suspend the tests. Lower Councilmember Tarrok's accusation of the child's position as an ape or a spy will be marked as proven false, and she will no longer be referred to as such." The ice dragoness shot a look at the cheetah, who was scowling and glowering at the ground.

"Tarrok," the leader said tiredly, "If you have no other accusations–"

"No!" the cheetah snapped. "I can still prove that she is trouble, if nothing else!"

Kerridan sighed. "Then do so, quickly."

Straightening himself and smoothing down his ruffled fur, Tarrok continued. "Among other things, this... 'cheetah' has caused a variety of issues. For instance, she has been observed indirectly harassing the guard force in this city on multiple occasions. I've heard reports that she attacked three boys, yet received no repercussions. Finally, she released a long-standing criminal from jail–a criminal whom she calls her friend."

The cheetah paused for dramatic effect, grinning evilly as he fought back control of the room. Now, the councilmembers were paying attention. "She has repeatedly undermined the integrity of this city and its laws."

Finally, Kerridan was listening with interest. "These are serious accusations," he said thoughtfully. "Child, do you wish to defend yourself?"

The girl nodded. "I did beat up a few boys," she admitted. The room hushed, and the councilmembers exchanged glances. "However, those boys were picking on a little kid, a six-year-old dragon. Actually–they weren't just picking on him. They were kicking him just because he has a purple underbelly."

Now she had their attention. A few of them stared with wide eyes; even these old adults had never witnessed such serious bullying. "Maybe fighting was wrong," the girl murmured. "But I had to do something."

Kerridan tapped his claws on the table. "And the other accusations?"

"The friend who I bailed out of jail was Cedric." The girl paused, looking down. "He has nowhere to live, and no food. That's why he steals so much, because it's the only way he can survive. Maybe we have different definitions of 'criminal'... But letting a kid starve is wrong too."

Eleven pairs of eyes were on her now, and she squirmed under the attention. "As for the things about harassing the guards... Well, it's immature and I could do better," she conceded, blushing. "But all I've done is silly little-kid stuff... Pranks, with my friends. We never mean to undermine them or get in the way, or seriously disrupt their work.

"I would never do anything that would get anyone hurt, or prevent them from doing what they need to do to keep everyone safe," she finished. "The worst we've ever done is throw hawk eggs at the barracks. Sure, that probably wasn't right. But I don't think it's fair to call me immoral and a trouble-maker for that."

It was quiet for a bit, as the council went over the statements from both sides. But finally, Kerridan said, "It seems to me that everything that this child has done has a justification–or at least can be chalked up to simple teenage misdemeanours. Can we all not agree on that?" He winked at her. "I have a teenage boy myself, and to say that he hasn't committed the same 'atrocities' would be a lie of draconic proportions."

No one spoke, so the leader continued, "If we are done here..."

"Wait." Tarrok held up a paw. Council opinion was slipping and he knew it, but he couldn't give up. "One last thing."

They all waited, and finally he spoke, voice low. "The most dire of all these issues is, certainly, the ones she has chosen as her friends. These people reflect on this child–and in turn, they reflect on the Guardians as well."

The girl gave him an unamused stare, crossing her arms, but he continued. "The first, of course, is the mole I've already mentioned–the raggedy thief who lives in the streets, doing who knows what. The second, an orphan cheetah who lacks any entry records; more than likely she snuck into the city illegally."

Her silent glare was like fire on him, but still Tarrok continued, "Then, a dragon who we have no records of, who does not even live in Warfang, yet is allowed to fly in and out of the city every day... They could be a spy or an assassin, and who would know?"

The girl had to bite her tongue. Strider, an assassin? Sure, she was a bit off-putting at first, and her dry sense of humour was palpable in the air... But she had a sincere heart, that much could be felt.

"And finally," said Tarrok, raising a clawed finger. "A boy, a boy with a long history of trouble-making and antisocial tendencies, a disturbed young dragon who's been in many fights and been caught harassing the guard force multiple times...

"But then there is his father. A dragon once known and respected all across Warfang, but he tarnished his name with the worst disgrace of all..." The cheetah paused for dramatic effect. "Instead of protecting his family in this crisis, keeping his son out of trouble..." Tarrok stopped, flashing the girl a twisted smile. "He committed suicide!"

Well, I used to live by the ocean, but my mom moved us here when... When the ape attacks got too bad.

When Dad died, Mom moved us away.

What happened to your dad?

What happened?

Oh... god.

The puzzle pieces were coming together, clicking into place. Auren looked so pensive and sad sometimes, like the world was dragging him into the abyss. Every time he talked about the past... That was why he went so quiet, wasn't it? Why he was so protective of his brother and mom?

Stunned by this revelation, she barely heard Tarrok's closing statements. "...So, as you can see, these are the kinds of people she consorts with–orphans, thieves, and spies–and every one a troublemaker intent on dragging Warfang down!"

She could barely hear now, blinded with confusion and rage, until nothing but static filled her vision and ears. Her friends had all been hurt... Hurt so, so bad by this life. And now... now they were being called awful people, bad influences, rabble and trash, when they... They...!

"Child? Child, do you wish to speak up?" The voice reached her just barely. She looked up mutely, the whole room dimming and blurring.

She realized Ignitus' paw was on her shoulder. He looked concerned–half for his friend's quickly deteriorating mental state, and half that she would fly into a rage like usual.

But no... Not this time.

Suddenly, everything cleared up. The girl slowly inhaled, and a great calm filled her. Like she had found the perfect equilibrium at last; the scales were perfectly balanced between rage and rationale.

Slowly, she stood. The voice that left her was not yelling or emotional–it was loud, commanding attention, but steady and calm. "This world," she said, "has damned those children just for existing." The room hushed as she took a breath, waiting to see what she would say.

"A boy who can't even remember a time when he had parents, who has to steal food to survive. A girl whose parents fought and died in this war, and for that she's labelled a rabble-rousing orphan. A dragon who can't speak at all–I can't even imagine what this world did to her to cause that! I don't want to! And a boy, who we should be feeling pity and empathy for, a boy who is constantly bullied and called evil because he has a purple chestplate... Because they'll use any excuse they can to pick on the kid whose dad killed himself!

"But you don't care about that!" She realized that her hands were shaking, and she tightened them into fists. "Their names don't matter to you–to anyone–because to you, we are nothing more than orphans and misfits and thieves... Without faces, without names... We are nothing."

The girl took a breath, calming herself before her anger could boil over. "And me," she said, her voice wobbling. "All I want is to live my life in peace... Because I never was able to do that. I didn't get the chance to live happily! I didn't get the chance to live at all!"

Realizing this was edging too close to the truth, the child swallowed the lump in her throat. "But for this–for this horrible crime of embracing the friends I never got to have... I'm brought to trial and called an ape spy!"

Everyone was quiet, not even whispering to each other. As she stared down the people sitting before her, she saw that, while some of them still held the same detached expression... They were no longer looking at her as the accused, the defendant. They couldn't see her face, but they could see through her, into her soul.

"I know I'm not perfect. I've done a lot of things wrong," the girl admitted. "But I'm just a kid, and I'm trying my best! So please..." She clasped her hands. "Please don't look down on the Guardians for my mistakes!"

With her speech done, and feeling rather out of breath, the girl sat. She was hoping maybe Tarrok would hear her–maybe he would understand. She'd poured her heart out without realizing it, so that had to be worth something.

But the moment she finished, the cheetah was on his feet again, yelling, "If you want to prove you're not an ape, then take your hood off, you damn spy–"

"Tarrok, enough!" Kerridan banged on the table, and everyone in the room jumped as it echoed off the high ceiling. "Calling this as an emergency was a joke and a waste of our time! This meeting is over!"

Seeing the cheetah begin to open his mouth, the dragon raged, "One more word and I'll kick you off the council!" Turning to the shocked five, Kerridan bowed his head. "I am very sorry to have taken your time up with this tomfoolery. You may leave."

They all rose and bowed again. The girl was happy enough to quickly take her leave–she could feel Tarrok's rage-filled eyes on her even once the doors shut behind them.

She only managed to untense once they stepped out of the councilhouse and into the sunlight, collapsing on the stairs and laying her head in her hands. That had been rough–the accusations themselves had taken a toll on her, as did Tarrok's constant harassment. But then there was the revelation about Auren... It'd be one thing if he had told her himself, but having to hear something like that from Tarrok...

The other Guardians sat too, each of them looking almost as weary as the girl. After a few seconds had passed, she spoke up. "They don't all think that, right?" She choked and had to stop to take a breath. "That my friends are these awful people, that... Auren..."

Cyril grimaced and stepped forward. "Tarrok is delusional," he said, frowning. "Don't listen to a word that bloody cat says. It's all lies and air."

"Do you think that?" she asked quickly, stumbling to her feet. "Do any of you think that–especially about Auren, because he–"

"I think your friend is very strong," Ignitus cut in. "As for the rest of them, if they are your friends whom you believe in, then I will trust your reasoning. I think we can all agree on that." The other three nodded.

"I still think that bloody Cedric is trouble," Cyril muttered under his breath as he walked along. He winced as Volteer whacked him in the shoulder with his tail. "Whatever, he's your problem, not mine."

"I would certainly say the thought of you being a spy crossed my mind," Terrador weighed in thoughtfully.

Seeing her face, he elaborated, "Your story was odd and your behaviour was erratic. When you asked to follow me on my trapping rounds, I found that alarming. But seeing you try to feed that animal..." The earth dragon smiled and shook his head. "I realized that, even if you did come from the ape armies, you weren't capable of that."

"I promise I didn't come from there..." the girl grumbled. "But you're right, even if I had... I couldn't have..."

"Well," Volteer said cheerfully, "I never doubted you!"

The girl smiled. Well... This wasn't so bad. She was still shaking from the stress, and that stuffy old meeting room had been awful, but Tarrok's credibility had been destroyed. She just had to keep out of trouble–Auren had promised her that–and she would be alright.

She certainly hadn't seen the end of Tarrok, but he wouldn't be pulling a stunt like that again. Her smile faded. There was still Auren... She would have to tell him what she knew; holding a secret like that would be wrong. It was stupid that she even knew it in the first place. Tarrok must have been stalking her, digging through the records of her and all her friends... That obsession was scary.

But Kerridan had helped her, at least. It seemed like he was sympathetic to her for some reason... But, either way, that meeting would have dragged on if it wasn't for him.

The girl stopped in her tracks. "Uh, guys?" The Guardians looked back at her. "I have to do something. I'll be home later, okay?" She stepped back.

"Don't go playing with fire," Ignitus warned.

She held up a gloved hand. "It has nothing to do with Tarrok, promise. See you."

And so the girl headed back to the councilhouse, settling down on the steps. She milled about there for quite a while, probably hours, as it was looking to be about afternoon when the big green dragon started down those long stairs.

"Uh... Hey!" She popped up from the ground, startling Kerridan. "Lunch break?"

"Ah... Yes, I usually take lunch in the garden," he said pleasantly once the surprise wore off.

The girl tapped her fingers on her arm for a moment, embarrassed. "Um... I just wanted to say... Thank you, for kinda sticking up for me."

"Kinda?" the earth dragon mused with a smile.

"I-I mean, uh...! Yes, for sticking up for me, thanks," she said quickly, stumbling. "It's just, Tarrok has been after me since I got here, so, thank you." How did I manage to screw this up...

Kerridan laughed at her flustered speech. "It's alright, child. I was just doing what was right–it was wrong for Tarrok to attack you so." He lay a paw on her shoulder. "That cheetah is hot on your trail, so please, do be careful."

"I will, sir!" she said earnestly. "He even came to our house..."

Kerridan had been continuing his walk, but he stopped, narrowing his eyes. "He... came to your house?"

She nodded. "He gave the girl who brings us food a day off and brought it himself, so we had to invite him to breakfast. He made me read out loud–I was sick that day, so I was having some trouble," she said quickly. "Then, he told me how he knew about me letting Cedric out of jail, and threatened to tell the council... And left," she finished.

The earth dragon shook his head. "That Tarrok..." he muttered under his breath. "Do not fear, child. If Tarrok continues his baseless attacks on you, he will be removed from the council. And arrested for harassing a child." Kerridan glanced at her, furrowing his brow. "Keep your doors and windows locked... With his erratic behaviour, we don't know what Tarrok is capable of."

Does he think... He'd kill me? Shakily, she nodded. "I will. Thank you."

And with that, the council-leader disappeared into the garden, leaving the girl standing alone in front of the tall, tall building. But neither of them knew the weight of the warning he'd carried, or just what lengths Tarrok would go to to keep Warfang safe.

Chapter Text

It was a bright, cloudless afternoon, the sort of picturesque day where you look up at the sky and feel like nothing can go wrong. The girl was on her way back home; perhaps she had been with a Guardian or two, or perhaps not. It was a warm, lazy kind of day where focusing on the details felt unnecessary.

But she had just come from browsing the market, having only bought a mango-like fruit for herself. She was about to bite into it when she felt something being slipped into her hand.

Blinking, the child turned and saw the tail of a frayed black headband disappearing into the crowd. Cedric? She stepped out of the street and unfolded the note, squinting down at the old, frayed paper with blots of ink resembling words covering it.

Well... That, uh... Certainly wasn't anything she could read. She twisted around, holding the paper at all sorts of angles, but the sloppy hand-written note may as well have been gibberish. She could make out a few letters, but they curved together like bloody dragon cursive, and–was that a coffee stain?

Sighing, the girl pocketed the note. She'd have to get help on this one... And hope it wasn't a letter from Auren confessing his eternal love.

Face growing hot, she crossed that thought out of her mind. Nope... never happened.

She made it home, figuring she could guess where Ignitus was–and, lo and behold, he was in the library reading a big grey book. The stormclouds that had lingered the past week or so had dispersed and sunlight streamed in from the high-set windows, so it was a good day for reading.

The dragon didn't seem to notice her, and she didn't wish to rouse him, so she flounced over to a chair across from him and sat down. She spent quite a few minutes trying to master the art of upside-down reading when he appeared to reach the end of the chapter, and looked up with a blink.

"Good morning," she joked with a grin.

"I didn't notice you there," Ignitus said, looking amused.

"Yeah, well," the girl chuckled, "You probably wouldn't have noticed if the whole house collapsed." She flashed the note and passed it to him. "Can you read this for me? The handwriting is bad."

The old dragon gave it a go, squinting down at the paper for quite awhile. After he'd been staring at it for a bit, the girl said quickly, "Someone just handed that to me in the street, so if it says something weird–"

"No, no," he said, handing the note back to her. "It says 'Meet us at the usual place midday tomorrow'."

Midday tomorrow? Well, she had nothing to do, so that was fine... But they'd never summoned her before. The gang must have something planned.

Ignitus was examining her. "Any idea the reason behind this note?"

"It's my friends." She tapped her fingers on the table. "No clue why they need me since we mostly hang out at night, but I suppose I'll go."

"I trust you're not getting into trouble?"

The girl shook her head. "Not anymore... Last night they wanted to go throw eggs at the barracks again, but I just went home. I think we're all bored of that kid stuff anyway."

Spinning around, she hopped out of the chair. "So, no worries." She headed towards the doorway, still facing him and counting off on her fingers. "No more pranks, no more guards, aaand..." She grinned. "No more ravines!"

Saluting, she pranced on out again. Ignitus sighed, returning to his book. He felt a bit odd about this whole scenario, but he had to trust her judgment, of course. It wasn't like he was her father.

Anyway, those kids had done wonders for her personality, changing her from a quiet, pensive introvert to a cheerful, social child almost overnight. Bad choices they may make, being a group of teenagers, but he couldn't believe that anything serious could happen to her... At least not after the scare at the ravine.

So, why couldn't he fight off this growing sense of unease?

~~...~~

Midday rolled around the next day. The girl donned her covers and headed out to visit the wall, but she didn't have to walk very long. There at the end of the street, she could see her friends waiting for her in the shadow of the guard-wall's archway. Auren's brother was missing, but otherwise they were all there.

Jogging up to them, she asked with a smile, "Hey, guys. No Tyren?"

"Not today," Auren answered, waving at her. "What we're gonna be doing is a little too dangerous for a kid... And he's at school anyhow."

"Speaking of," Cedric said flatly, "When're you gonna tell us what we're doing? You haven't said a thing to anyone!"

The ice dragon patted his friend's head. "You'll see when you get there. C'mon, follow me! We're headed to Warfang West."

"This betta be good," Cedric grumbled.

Serena, though, was thinking as she walked along. "Warfang West?" she mused, scratching her head with a blue paw. "Isn't that all just half-finished houses and construction?"

"Precisely," Auren answered. He walked in front of the group, leading them through streets and alleys. "Tyren's always hanging out there, and he's the one who showed me this... Too bad he can't come."

"We're not allowed in that side, though," Cedric pointed out. "Been kicked out many a time myself."

Auren shook his head. "You guys have no faith in me..." he grumbled. "I have this all planned out. It's the workers' day off. Won't even be guards or watchcats. So just trust me, okay?"

Nobody else said anything, so typical chatter resumed. As they walked through the city, the normal bustle began to fall off. Houses clustered side-by-side faded into the occasional shop, and then there was only the rare building. Eventually even the pavement disappeared, replaced with grass.

"I heard they're gonna knock down the wall over here once the war is over," Serena commented. "They might even tear down the whole thing."

They all gazed at the ramparts in the distance, glancing back at the bricks that rose high enough to be seen despite the tall shops and spires behind them. A Warfang without walls? Now that was certainly a thought. Inside this city, it was easy to forget about the war, but that stone rising all around them was a sobering reminder. Without them... The world could move on.

The girl wondered if she would live or stay long enough to see them tear down the walls. But she tried not to think too hard about that.

After they'd spent quite a while tripping through construction sites and over bricks, they found themselves standing at the foot of a hill. Auren said with a beam, "Are you guys ready?"

At everyone's nod, he led them up the hill. They all stopped and stared upon reaching the top, eyes wide at the goldmine their friend had discovered.

Before them lay a long, long set of rails made of welded black metal, propped up on tall iron bars like a rollercoaster track. It twisted and turned, going up and down over hills, before finally disappearing behind a half-finished house.

Of course, the real spectacle was the train. The girl recognized the style from the trains made at Munitions Forge, though it was a bit less... spiky, and it didn't have fire spewing out of it. The wheels were much bigger than a normal train, nearly half the size of it, and instead of a locomotive at the front, there was a modern-looking cab. There were at least fifteen passenger trains, and on top of them were what looked like balconies with seats.

Even she was in wonder at the spectacle. She may have come from a world with Internet and cameras, but it'd been quite a while since she'd seen any invention even resembling something coming out of the Industrial era. And usually, it was powered by magic.

"I saw them laying the tracks," Serena said dreamily, eyes sparkling. "But I didn't get to see the train yet!"

"Well," Auren said with a laugh, leading them towards the tracks, "Not only do you get to see the train... You get to see the inside." He winked.

"No way," the cheetah whispered.

They ducked under the tracks, stepping over the metal bars, and headed towards the train station on the other side. The railway was so tall that stairs led up to a long stone balcony, for passengers to wait on, and then more steps led up to the one-room building that housed the station.

They clambered up the stairs and through the doorway, poking about. Just like Auren had said, it was deserted. Despite the plans for the train not even being done yet, the station was fully furnished with chairs and desks, even papers and blueprints scattered around the ticket counter.

Through the exit there was yet another waiting platform, and from there, you could step onto the train. The doors were closed, but these trains didn't have locks, so with a heave they could be slid to the side easily enough.

Slowly the five of them stepped in, gazing about. Though the outside was solid metal, the inside of the passenger cart was made of homely wood, with comfortable-looking benches lining the sides. Between every bench was a red cushion seat. Cedric pulled at them, but they appeared to be sewn to the floor. Strider plopped down on the fabric, flashing a rare smile; she looked like a queen in her own traincar.

"Real glass..." Serena murmured, pressing her paws against a window. The Guardians' house had glass windows and even a sliding glass door, but the girl had noticed that a lot of the houses in the less-rich neighborhoods had only wooden shutters.

Still awe-stricken, the group split up to explore the train. The girl headed towards the back, peeking into first-class. Here, the train was split into private rooms, one for each window, and the walls were made of panelling. In the hallway, you could peek out the windows, but there were no chairs. There was a water dispenser, though, with real glass cups in little cases so they wouldn't fall. She tried the tap, but it was empty.

The teenager slid one of the room's doors open. The seats here were wood lined with plush, and cupboards built below them for storing your luggage. She sat down hard on the soft chair, bouncing back up again. Giggling like a child, she began to bounce in her seat.

Auren poked his head around the corner, raising one eyebrow. "Uh... should I come back later?"

Stiffening, the girl quickly sat up ramrod straight, crossing her legs primly. "Err, nope. No problem."

The boy smirked, but he didn't comment as he sat across from her and gazed out the window. She glanced at him a moment then quickly looked away, her smile fading. Well... She finally had him alone, so...

"Hey, Auren... Can we talk?" the girl asked timidly. She closed her eyes, seeing Tarrok's twisted smile in her mind as he relayed her friend's closest secret–as if it was nothing. He committed suicide!

Auren broke his gaze with the metropolitan scenery outside. "Hmm? What about?"

"Um..." She squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable. "It's about your–"

"Woohoooo! Who's ready to get this party started?!" Cedric danced around the corner, grabbing both his friends' arms and pulling them right out of their seats. "Come on, let's go!"

"Cedric!" Auren, who had been sitting serenely on top of the chairs, had landed on his nose and was now being dragged about. "What is going on?"

The mole let go of him, looking back. "'You'll see when we get there', eh?" His wide smile matched the boy's frown.

They ran all the way to the front of the train, their feet thudding on the metal floors, where the cab and controls were. There, an odd mass of switches and buttons and gauges greeted them. Strider and Serena were already poking about, not daring to press a single button, but Cedric seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

"So," the mole said, plopping into the chair and spinning about, "How 'bout we take this metal monster for a joyride?"

"Do you even know how to drive this thing?" the girl asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Sure do!" Cedric popped off his chair and headed to the back of the train, the group in tow. "Got myself a cousin or two at Munitions Forge, so I know all about it. First, we fill the boiler–well, it's already filled, ain't it?" He tapped on the gauge showing it as full.

"Then, we need to fire the train." He pointed to two furnaces, one looking like your typical train furnace and one a bit more... esoteric, made with metals and in a style that probably didn't exist on Earth.

"These trains can be powered one of two ways: With coal, or with fire magic converted to energy. Any fire dragons in here?" Cedric peeked around. "Well, coal it is then."

Once the furnace was lit and coal shoveled in, Cedric continued running about fussing with the machinery and explaining his steps (most of which went over everyone's head). Finally, they all returned back to the control room.

Here, the mole flipped a big switch with a red handle. "Brake," he said. "Try to move the train with this on and somethin's gonna snap and go flyin' off." He pressed a few more switches. "Press these, in this order... Then..."

He pulled up a notched switch and to everyone's shock the train jolted forward. It crawled along at a snail's pace, but–they were really moving! Everyone looked at each other, beaming.

"And here I thought you were leading us on, ya old mole!" Auren exclaimed, slapping Cedric on the back.

The mole smiled proudly, but he was focused on his work. "Next, you flip these switches to open the gates wider and increase the steam flow to the pistons. After that, it's safe to go a little faster. And it repeats like that."

Everyone ran and pressed their face against the window as Cedric sped up the train, watching in wonder as the landscape went by. The girl had of course ridden in a car, but she'd spent so much time walking everywhere that she wasn't used to standing still and seeing the world move.

"Let me drive, let me!" she laughed, flailing at the controls.

Cedric pushed her off. "No, no! It takes a skilled engineer to drive a train; you'll run us off the tracks! If you wanna help, go stoke the fire!"

As the two bickered, about a mile away, high up in the air, a mole and a dragon sat in a watchtower. Auren had been wrong; the guard force did keep watchpeople on. Of course, the two were half-asleep (nothing ever happened on the day off), but the latter perked up when the train whistled and began moving.

"Hey... Ey, man!" The fire dragon prodded his friend awake. "You see that?"

"Hmmm?" The watchmole yawned and stretched, casting a glance at the train station. "Yeah, I see it."

"It's the workers' day off, eh? So why's the bloody train goin'?"

The mole snorted, leaning back again. "Bah, it's probably that ol' Henric. Y'know how he is, that workaholic. He'd be out there for a gem an hour just to do somethin'."

"Ohh, yeah." The dragon nodded, returning to leaning his head on the wood fence. "Just ol' Henric..."

Meanwhile, back at the train, chaos had ensued. Serena, who had never done a thing wrong in her life–much less grand theft loco–was running down the traincars, yelling just to make noise. Auren and the girl had their faces pressed into the windows as they laughed giddily. Even Strider had to contain her laughter, and she was grinning like a fool. It'd been a long time since she'd had fun.

"Hey, where's this ladder go?" the girl asked, pointing to the metal bars positioned at the back of the cab.

Curious, her and Auren headed up. As they poked their heads through the hole, a blast of air met them. Shakily the girl stood, holding her hood up with one hand, and grinned as she spread her other arm wide.

They'd come to the top of the trains, where safety bars and seats met them. There wasn't much up here, but the view was amazing. They were going so fast that they had left the construction district and entered the guard's district, where barracks and towers and mess halls were scattered about wide plazas. Of course, being up here was a bad idea with the guards and soldiers about, but they didn't care.

Auren laughed, his voice almost not reaching his friend. "Watch this!" he yelled, then breathed a stream of icy mist. Behind them, with the heat of the boiler, the ice turned to rain that pattered against the last few traincars.

"Nice trick!" the girl yelled. "But watch this!" Jumping up onto one of the seats, wobbling dangerously over the edge, she screamed as loud as she could, "I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD!" Her voice was ripped away from her so fast that she and Auren could barely hear it.

Joining in, the dragon hopped up beside her and screamed, "WOOOOOOO! SCREW THE GUARDS!"

She nearly doubled over with laughter. So immature, yet so hilarious. "SCREW WARFANG!"

"SCREW LIFE!"

"SCREW LIIIIIFE!"

Slowly, the dragon guard opened his eyes as distant screeches reached him. He squinted at the city far below. The train was reaching the end of the tracks, yet it was going way too fast. Also... Was that two kids on the roof?!

"Uhh...!"

The dragon prodded his friend insistently until he woke up, grumbling, "Whaaat? What is it?"

He sat up tiredly, rubbing his eyes, then took one look at the speeding train manned by a group of kids before jolting up in his seat. "Whoa! Uh–sound the alarm!"

As Auren and the girl stood, screaming insults to the wind, the sound of a distant horn reached them. She covered her eyes from the sun, squinting up at the nearest guard-tower, and saw the people up there yelling and pointing down at them.

"Uh oh," she muttered, her merriment dropping off. Oh, right... That whole "not getting in trouble" thing? She remembered it now.

Her head turned towards the tracks and her eyes widened. Cedric couldn't see it from the cab, but around a curve, the tracks came to an abrupt end... And they'd go flying straight off into a building!

Scrambling, her and Auren both poked their heads down the hole. "Cedric!" the girl cried. "Stop the train! The tracks end!"

"Whaaaaaaaaaat?" the mole yelled, fiddling with buttons.

"STOP THE TRAIN!" she and Auren screeched.

Fumbling from being screamed at, the boy looked about in a panic, but finally found the emergency break. The locomotive came to a screeching halt, sending the two friends tumbling down the hole and knocking the giddy Serena onto the floor.

Once she had recovered from the bump to her head, the girl climbed back up the ladder and looked about. A force of guards was approaching from the train's right, leaving the only way of escape to the left–towards the wall!

Once everyone had been gathered, Cedric led them up to the top of the train. Serena looked in panic at the guards, who would be there in just a minute. Luckily the wide plazas gave them vision, but there was no way they could run–they'd be captured for sure!

"Looks like this is our stop," Cedric mused, surprisingly calm.

Serena was pacing about. "What do we do, surrender?!" she cried. "I'll be kicked from the orphanage for sure–"

"You and Fighter take my hand," the boy interrupted. They followed his instructions, and he faced the edge of the train. "Okay, you ready? Onetwothree JUMP!"

"What?!"

As Auren and Strider glided down, the three bipedals landed on the tracks and quickly dropped down onto the ground. The girl fumbled her landing and her right foot hit the ground at the wrong angle, but she bit her tongue to stop from crying out. She was still able to run, just with a limp.

"Follow me!" Cedric cried, taking off into an alleyway. "I know a way out!"

They ran for their lives, winding through alleys and around corners. The guards had been momentarily slowed as they searched the train, but it didn't take them long to realize that the hijackers had made a break for it. As the group turned corners, they could hear shouts behind them.

All of them nearly tripped and fell into a pile as Cedric skidded to a stop. They had entered what looked to be the remains of a burned-down house, where a circular grate lay on the ground near the back. Finding the edges, the mole hoisted up the metal panel. "Everybody in!"

"The sewers?!" Serena screeched. Strider had disappeared into the hole without a second thought, and Auren was on his way down. "No way, you can let them catch me, I'll sacrifice myself–"

Cedric shook his head. "Not the sewers!" he cried. "Get in!"

The blue cheetah waited for the girl to go, but she reluctantly hopped down after. Much to her relief, she landed on clean stone, not in sludge. Cedric jumped down and the grate fell closed. Only a few slivers of light came in.

Moments later, they all huddled down as footsteps thundered above them. Soon, it was quiet again, and they had the chance to look around. Each of them gazed about with big eyes, though Cedric wandered off to retrieve a torch, untouched by the surroundings.

They were in a wide, endless cavern that seemed to stretch beyond their vision. The only light came from Cedric's torch and the occasional crack in the ceiling, where glimpses of sunlight and dust filtered down. There were old stone houses here and there, like this place had once been lived in... But what little architecture was left, the earth seemed to have swallowed whole.

There was still some pavement about, but most of it had long sunken into the abyss. The girl stepped to the uncomfortably close ledge, peeking down.

"Don't slip down that hole, Fighta," Cedric commented, motioning for them to follow. "You ain't gonna just walk away from that fall."

She scampered after him, staying far away from the pit.

For once, the gang was silent, content to simply look about. The girl noticed that there were pillars everywhere, even stretching out of the abyss to hold up the ceiling. In some parts, the rock had fallen away, revealing the underside of street pavement. Even in this dim light, she could see that the stone of the pillars was much newer than that of the buildings.

"What is this place?" Auren asked in wonder, shattering the stillness.

Right then, the girl realized just where she was. "The ruins of Warfang," she whispered in reply, turning her eyes up to the ceiling.

Cedric glanced back at her. "How'd'ja know? Most people have forgotten this place."

"Uhh... I read a book on it," she said quickly.

The mole nodded, not noticing her stumble. "Some people say the ruins was the first Warfang, built by settlers a long time ago. It was even up on the surface 'til the earth swallowed it whole. This place hasn't seen sunlight in maybe two hundred years... Before old Malefor was even born."

The girl reverently grazed her hands over the wall, untouched by ash and dirt and blood. She'd found it... A place that had never seen the war.

"Warfang's a sinkhole waiting to happen," Auren pointed out. "Geez... No wonder they're gonna tear down the wall. The whole west half of Warfang could sink into the earth at any moment."

Cedric nodded. "Let's keep our voices down now. They might be able to hear us."

At first, the silence was consuming, devouring. The only sound was their breathing and the soft echoes of their footsteps. That, along with the darkness, was frightening. Even though the girl pressed close to her friends, she couldn't help but look around warily.

But as she got used to the environment, that concern began to melt. It was... kind of peaceful down here. She wouldn't want to spend too much time underground, but... The chatter of the city was, for once, almost eliminated. She hadn't known much in the way of peace and quiet since the Temple, and she hadn't realized until now how much she missed it.

Despite the fact that they had to walk to the other end of the city, the journey seemed only minutes long. There wasn't much to see, and yet they couldn't get enough of seeing it. Through places that had once been crowded plazas they walked, stepping over rubble and going along overhangs that lay just a bit too close to the wall.

Finally, they came to a rusty metal ladder and another grate. "These used to be all over Warfang, even in people's basements. Most of them have been sealed up..." Cedric pushed open the hatch, letting in a glorious flood of light. "But not this one."

They climbed out, blinking slowly in the fading sunlight–afternoon already? The gang had emerged into an alleyway. The roar of voices not too far away reached them. The girl recognized this place; they were near the market, and she often cut through this alley to go home. Here was where Cedric must pull his disappearing act.

"A'ight, everybody out," the mole said, pulling Serena up and closing the grate. "I think it's best if we all part ways now–and keep it on the down-low for a few days, eh? Guards'll be looking for a group of kids, so let's not be seen with each other for a while."

"You got it, boss." Auren saluted. "Gotta go pick up Tyren before Mom realizes I skipped school, anyhow. See you guys later!"

Serena nodded. "I also better go, before the headmistress realizes I'm gone."

Strider, of course, departed without a word.

"The Guardians are gonna kill me if they find out..." the girl muttered as she walked on alone, all of her friends having run home. She tried to walk straight, but her leg injury made it hurt too much... That could be bad if someone noticed.

She had to hide her small smile. Well, she'd broken her promise... But it had almost been worth it. Anyway, she didn't know Cedric was going to steal the train; she'd just gotten caught up in the moment. And she'd had fun. They would all remember this day forever.

They'd had quite a scare at the end, and–well, they'd stolen a bloody train! How could you top that? So, there wouldn't be anymore shenanigans at the trainyard. She was sure of it.

~~...~~

After scrubbing her face free of soot on the way home, the girl managed to hole up in the library where she wouldn't have to walk and reveal her injury. Volteer was even kind enough to bring her dinner so her "studies" would not have to be disturbed. After everyone retired, she limped upstairs and collapsed in bed.

But it was impossible to hide her pain for much longer. The next day, as she struggled down the stairs, the limp was still apparent.

"Are you limping?" Terrador asked from the table, concerned.

"Uh..." Great to know that it was so obvious. "I fell down."

Ignitus asked, "Do we need to call a doctor?"

She shook her head. "You can't, remember?" It was quiet for a while as that thought sunk in. If anything ever happened to her... There would be no one who could help. "Anyway," she said uncomfortably, "I'm fine. I just tripped over the pavement."

Noticing that there was a newspaper sitting on the table, she covertly slid it over and read the headline. 'Masked thieves hijack train!'

Oh boy.

'Terror In Warfang West! Yesterday around noon, a group of cheetah bandits attempted to steal a train right under the guards' noses! Workers have been building the new transportation system diligently, which is expected to be complete and fully functional by summer 767.

Collaborations with workers at Munitions Forge led to the construction of the first passenger train, dubbed the "Iron Dragon" by its creators. Having undergone vigorous training, along with the constant addition of railroads within the city, the engineers estimate that the first passenger test will be ready by spring.

However, all of that was almost lost! The motives of the thieves are unknown, but it's possible that they intended to ride it off-rails, right out of the city!

Investigations have ruled out the possibility of a simple civilian joyride. Guards are now treating this as a serious case of attempted thievery.

Reporters spoke to the captain of the guard, who had this to say: "We will stop at nothing to apprehend this gang of bandits, and in addition, security at the construction site will be fortified. This will never happen again."

When questioned about the appearance of the thieves, he said, "I witnessed them personally. There were 7-10 of them, all cheetahs, and all dressed in long black robes. They seemed to disappear into thin air; when we arrived at the train, they were gone."

The captain cautions everyone to keep their eyes open, and to report any information directly to the Councilhouse in Warfang East.

In other news...'

That... was the most ridiculous thing she had ever read. But still... Lucky she was already wearing a red robe, but she'd have to avoid wearing black for awhile.

"Did you really think you could get away with that?"

The girl swallowed hard as her heart leapt into her throat. Slowly, she looked up, meeting Cyril's eyes. "Wh–what?"

"I mean, no wonder you spent all night in the study," the ice dragon continued, not noticing her terror. "Hiding your injuries... What are you, an animal?"

The girl stared. "Oh." Her heart sank back into her chest and she exhaled, smiling shakily. "I just didn't want anybody to worry."

Slowly she pushed the newspaper away, returning to her meal. What she didn't notice was that Ignitus was watching her.

~~...~~

The days continued on. Chit-chat in Warfang continued, but after a week, the public moved on to new stories. Even the reinforcements that guarded the trainyard every night began to wane; the guard captain himself considered it to be a one-off, and with most of the soldiers on the field rather than at home, they were short-staffed as it was.

The girl occasionally walked by the wall, but she could see no light of the lantern. No lantern meant no Cedric, and no Cedric meant no meeting. He had become the ringleader there at the end, and if he didn't feel it was safe to return, they'd better trust him.

She did see someone, though. One night, as she was approaching the guard-wall that marked the end of her neighborhood, the girl noticed two soldiers standing on it, one a cheetah and one a mole. They were faced away from her, leaning on the other end.

The teenager stopped, tilting her head. That mole looked... familiar. Light brown fur that was a bit messy despite looking like it had been neatly combed, a bit taller than most, the light armour with splashes of blue that marked a Warfang scout, and a bow and quiver strapped across his chest...

Was that Addison? The girl grinned. She'd almost forgotten about him, but he had been her first friend from Warfang. She'd entirely forgotten about asking after him, especially after the rift between the misfits and the guards...

She was about to call out to him when she realized that he was talking to the other guard. Unable to help her curiosity, she slid under the wall, listening in for a moment.

"So I see you're finally out of the Northeast Tower?" the other guard said, voice amused. "You're always brooding up there."

"Well, you know me. I certainly don't mind having that watchtower to myself. Gives me time to think," Addison answered. "Anyhow, the captain wanted me to patrol the city tonight, so it was not by choice."

The cheetah laughed. "You're such an introvert, Addy. The other guards think you're a bit strange, taking night shift voluntarily, then holing yourself up in that tower..."

Addison laughed. "Ah, that doesn't much matter to me."

It was quiet for a bit. The girl stretched, preparing to leave, when the second guard spoke again. "You sure you're not coming with us in a few days? It's a shame you'd have to stay behind."

"Well, the captain ordered me to guard the place, and I don't want to make anyone switch on my account. Anyhow, I don't mind... It will be nice to have some peace and quiet down there for once."

Growing bored with eavesdropping, the girl left and headed home. She and Addison would have to reunite another time... But still, now that she knew that he was in the city, she could go looking for him. It was good to have another friend to look forward to seeing.

~~...~~

A few days later, finally, the girl found her friends at the spot. She scrambled up the wall with a smile on her face, unknowing that her happiness was about to disappear.

They were all huddled in a circle, whispering excitedly, which gave off a good first impression. She popped up next to Auren. "So, what're we planning?"

Serena jumped. "Where did you come from...?!"

The girl only grinned at her, and Auren waved, turning back to the circle. "Hey, Fighter... You ready for our biggest plan yet?"

She nodded with a curious smile. "As long as it won't get us in trouble."

"Oh, it'll get us in big trouble... if we mess up." Auren winked.

The girl's smile faded. That didn't sound good. But she sat down, listening.

"Okay," Auren continued, pointing to the piece of paper with a crudely drawn sketch on it that they were all examining. "Let's recap. When the bell tolls midnight, we walk along the wall to Warfang West. Perfect timing to avoid the usual patrols."

She already knew where this was going–right into the trainyard–and she opened her mouth to protest, but Auren continued talking. "We sneak past any guards and get on the train. We're gonna need to act fast and speed up as soon as we can, or else we'll get caught. Then, it's just a smooth ride, 'til, the tracks end here and..."

With his claw, the dragon drew a route over the sketch and into a square building. "Boom."

The girl swallowed. She didn't like where this was going. "'Boom'," she choked, laughing nervously. "You're not saying...?"

"We crash the train..." Auren grinned. "Right into the guards' barracks!"

Everyone was gaping at him, and the ice dragon continued, "All the day shift guards are out on a hunting trip! The place is completely abandoned. No one will get hurt, and we just pulled the mother of all pranks!"

The child looked about, expecting to see the same disbelief that was on her face–but they all actually looked impressed. She rubbed her eyes just to make sure she was seeing straight, but nothing changed.

"I gotta hand it to ya, Aur," Cedric said, slapping his friend on the back, "I never thought you could come up with somethin' like this!"

"Sounds like fun," Serena brightly agreed.

Finally, coming out of her complete shock, the girl cried, "Fun–what is fun about dying in a train crash?" She didn't dare close her eyes; she would see her father's screaming face, the cigarette in the dark, them swerving too fast towards the rails and into the ditch–

"Aw, c'mon, don't be a stick in the mud," Auren teased, poking her.

The girl pushed him off. "I mean it," she said gravely. "This is really dangerous. Someone could get hurt for real! Plus, they worked really hard on that train, and destroying the places where the guards live–isn't that going a little too far?"

Cedric shook his head. "Ah, you sound like a bloody guard yourself, ya spoilsport."

"Cedric...!"

In the north, the group heard the soft chiming of bells, answered by the south bell tower. When the ringing ended–it sounded so happy despite the terrifying situation!–Auren stood.

"There's our cue," he noted. "Let's go!"

The mole put out his lantern and everyone stood, but the girl remained sitting. "No way," she said, crossing her arms. "You all can go kill yourselves or get locked up. I'm going home, and I–I'll even tell the Guardians!"

Now Auren wasn't teasing. She'd never seen the light-hearted dragon be mean before, but the look on his face was ugly, and the mood shifted in a second. "You'd rat out your own friends?" He scowled at her. His expression looked eerie in the darkness. "I swear, if you tell on us–you'd better not come back here again!"

As the girl gaped at him, Serena touched his arm. "Auren, don't say that..." she said anxiously. "She doesn't mean it." The cheetah turned to her. "C'mon, Fighter, even if you don't want to help... Don't you want to keep an eye on us? Let's not fight, okay?"

The child grimaced, turning away. She'd been bluffing... There was no way she could snitch on her friends. The Guardians wouldn't be forgiving in this situation, and she knew it. All of them would probably end up in jail, or at least in serious trouble.

But if she went home and just sat in her room, waiting...

Slowly she stood, walking halteringly behind the group as they skipped along the wall. Maybe she could talk them out of it. At least this way... it was some form of action. She couldn't wake the guards or the guardians, but she had to do something.

But the ice boy, despite his words, seemed to know that his friend was bluffing. He returned quickly to his cheerful self, chattering about the plan as they walked on, and ignoring the fact that Fighter wouldn't even look at him.

As they walked on, the girl decided not to say anything yet. If she kept harassing them, they would just get annoyed. But as time passed, she only got more desperate. None of them seemed in any hurry to go home; they were all enthusiastic to go through with this life-endangering act of vandalism.

They finally reached the trainyard. Wooden stairs led up to the ramparts, and everyone hurriedly scampered down. But the girl remained, calling out, "This is wrong and you know it, Auren."

When he ignored her, she crossed her arms, finally venturing, "I'm scared."

"If you're such a scaredy-cat, then go on home and stop bothering us!" the ice dragon called up, stormily continuing his path to the waiting platform a few yards away.

The girl had no response, so she followed.

The walk to the train station was quiet; the guard captain saying he was going to increase security was a hollow promise. Though, as they entered the station, they saw a mole sleeping behind the ticket desk. The girl stared, seriously considering screaming to wake him, but Auren caught her eyes. They stared hard at each other until the former looked away. She couldn't do it.

They met their first real obstacle as they approached the train. The doors were now locked with an oversized padlock. The girl smiled to herself, relieved; they wouldn't dare pickpocket the keys. Their adventure had finally come to an end.

But Auren was not deterred. Hopping up on his hind legs, he breathed a mist of ice onto the lock. Then, with a swift blow, he shattered it.

They all looked back, but the guard did not stir. His snores were loud even out here. Everyone except Strider and the girl grinned, running inside and quietly closing the door behind them.

Now within the safety of the metal walls, the group began talking at a normal volume again. They chattered happily as they headed to the cab, Cedric immediately manning the controls.

"Alright, Serena," the mole said, causing the girl to stand at attention, "You remember how to fire the train? Can ya do that for me?"

The cheetah blushed. "R-right away!" she cried, scampering off.

The child eyed the passage Serena had disappeared down. That girl was nice and rational... If she could get her alone, maybe she could at least get her off the train. Turning, the girl followed.

She found Serena scurrying about, gathering materials for the fire. Nonchalantly, she leaned against the wall, but the cheetah didn't even seem to notice her. Finally, the girl spoke up. "Um... Serena?"

"What is it?" the younger girl asked cheerfully, fumbling for the fire striker.

The girl tapped her fingers on the wall, but finally she blurted, "Please, Serena... Listen. You have to get out of here. It isn't safe."

Serena went silent, so her friend continued quickly, "You could even help me convince them to leave! Everyone could get hurt, and I don't want–I don't..." She trailed off, realizing her voice was cracking.

With the fire now lit, the cheetah spoke up, her stare a thousand miles away. "These are the only friends I have," she said softly. "Fighter... You're so funny and interesting." Serena smiled sincerely, though it soon faded. "But I'm not. So I have to show them that I can be cool too, or else they might leave me behind."

The girl scrambled after her friend as she began to leave, catching her arm. "Serena," she said quickly, "You're really so sweet and nice–it's our privilege to have you as a friend, not the other way around. And Auren wouldn't let anyone do that to you! So please don't worry about that!"

Her brown eyes darted away, and she gently pulled back her arm. "Sorry," she mumbled. "But I have to stay."

The girl looked down at the ground, grimacing as Serena's footsteps faded. Finally, she called out bitterly, "I thought you weren't the kind of person to let others manipulate you!"

Serena did stop at that, but when she turned around, rare anger was blazing in her eyes. "Maybe I want to do something wrong!" she yelled, throwing her blue arms in the air. "Maybe I don't want to be the boring goody-two-shoes forever! Did you ever think of that?"

The cheetah whirled around, stomping off. "Just leave me alone!"

Sighing, the girl slumped, sliding down the wall. That was it–Serena had been her only hope of getting everyone off this metal monster. What could she do now?

It was probably in her best interests to get off this train while she still could. Maybe wake up that guard. But she knew that Auren's warning was real; if she ratted them out, she would not be welcome at the Meeting anymore. And with the group's hatred of guards, she didn't know if that was a wound that would heal with time.

Still... They'd be alive! Wasn't that what mattered? They didn't understand what it was like to be in a crash, how awful and dangerous it was, but she did. So even if she was alone forever... she had to save her friends!

One last shot, then. If they wouldn't listen, she would go.

Standing and squaring her shoulders, the girl stomped down the traincars, finally stopping in the door of the cab. "Everyone is leaving," she said in a no-nonsense tone, clenching her fists. Everybody looked up in surprise.

"Or else what?" Cedric laughed, leaning back and crossing his legs.

She crossed her arms. "One, you'll never see me again. Two, I'll wake up the whole city–and I'm not testifying for you. I'll make sure everybody knows who's involved."

Serena looked a bit queasy at this, and even Cedric looked worried, but Auren was up to the challenge. He strutted over, and though he was half the girl's height, she felt like she was face-to-face with someone the Guardians' size.

"You really think that first part matters?" he laughed shortly. "Don't forget that you've only been here a month or two. None of us will miss you."

Serena opened her mouth, but she closed it again and looked at the floor.

"Second," the boy continued, getting out of her face to pace around the cab, "It's not like you're innocent either. We'll tell them you had just as much part in it as the rest of us."

She stood tall, proud and unwavering. "I don't care. Do what you want to me. But this is wrong, and all of you know it. You've crossed the line, Auren!" Taking a deep breath, the girl softened her tone. "I know it's hard to back down from something once you've gotten so far into it–I know you feel like you have to be defensive about it, to protect your honour–"

"You don't know anything about me!" Auren spat. She noticed that icy fog was coming from his breath, and she took a step back.

She was sympathetic, but she couldn't let him push her around. "This is more dangerous than you can possibly realize. All of us could die. I–I've been in a crash before!"

Cedric, who had been quiet in the corner, perked up. "In a train crash? How?"

"Er..." The girl shifted. "It's a long story. But half the people in that crash died. So you have to trust me! This could end really, really badly!"

It was beginning to look like she had begun to sway them. Serena swallowed; she may have wanted to look cool for her friends, but she didn't want to die. Cedric, of course, had no plans of death in the near future, and Strider... needed to live.

But the ice dragon only glared, unaffected. "Sounds like a fib to me," he muttered. "You've already lied to us enough, haven't you?"

The girl wavered. Auren was being really mean, but that... that was harsh. Voice wobbling, she said, "I don't want my friends to get hurt over something silly like this. So let's just go."

When nobody said anything, she looked over to Strider, who sat in a dark corner, thinking. "Strider...?" the girl asked, hopeful.

Grey eyes met black, and the dragon shook her head. She stood, brushing past the girl. The room was hushed as they heard her footsteps pad down the hall, then the slight scraping as the metal door opened and closed again.

They all waited, as if she might come back, but she was gone. Finally, the girl spoke up. "Strider is the sensible one. She might not be able to say much, but we all know that her instincts are strong." She paused. Everyone was looking quietly at the doorway behind her. "So let's listen to her for once, and go! Please!"

It looked for a moment like they were going to follow, and the girl allowed herself to hope that they could all walk out of here unscathed and as friends. But it was Cedric who spoke up.

"Life's borin' without risks," he said with a weak grin. "I'm stayin'."

With the fire he needed to fuel his defense, Auren nodded. "I'm staying."

"...Me too." Serena looked away.

The girl exhaled. "Fine. Have it your way." She turned to leave, but before she could take more than a few steps, she found herself suddenly rooted to the spot. When she looked down, she was shocked to find a block of ice encasing her feet.

Looking up in amazement, she cried, "Did you just freeze me to the ground?!"

"Yep!" Auren said cheerfully, turning back to the cab. "If you're gonna be a party-killer then you don't have a choice whether or not you'll participate."

The girl crossed her arms. "Auren, this isn't funny. Let me out."

"Cedric, start the train," the boy said, ignoring her.

She realized her hands were shaking, and sudden terror was welling up inside her. As the train jolted to a start, quickly speeding up, she began to screech, "Let me out... Let me out! LET ME OUT!"

The girl sank to the ground–as best she could with her feet in an ice block–clutching her head as panic enveloped her. She closed her eyes; reality seemed to be warping around her, twisting and turning in alarming shapes. She couldn't hear anything but her pounding heart and the clatter of the train, growing louder and then quieter again like a horrifying alarm.

When she opened her eyes, she was standing back in reality, on the precipice of winter. The world looked so dull and colourless, so uninteresting, so empty.

Of course, that wasn't what mattered. She felt a sharp blow to her stomach, and sucked her legs in just in time to miss the slamming car door. Her father was ranting, but it was like he was speaking Spanish; nothing made sense. She scrabbled at the locked door, seeing Lily wailing through the window, clutching her red, bruised face.

And that was the last she saw of her sister as the car jolted to a start.

He was still screaming, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath from the back, and the cigarette smoke had already flooded the interior. They could have been driving for hours, or minutes; she could only count by his voice slowly growing louder. She was wondering if maybe she should take the tire iron and break the window, but even if she could crawl out, he would catch her. And now the curve was coming up and he wasn't looking and he was going too fast, too fast–

She hadn't been wearing a seatbelt.

When she opened her eyes, all she could see was the forest through the hole where her window had been. Her legs weren't moving, and she would have been upside down if she'd been strapped into a seat. There was metal and glass all around her. Lucky she hadn't been crushed–so lucky. It didn't even hurt, but she felt hazy, like she was falling asleep.

Her eyes turned to the left. He'd made it out; his boots crunched in the snow as he ran away. They left tracks of blood behind. Finally, an interesting colour. She couldn't move her body to check, but she didn't think it was his blood. Her clothes felt wet.

Why was he running?

Suddenly alert, her eyes flicked to the front of the car–what was left of it. Oil was dripping down, blacking the snow, creeping into the mangled interior. And there, laying on the ground, was a tiny light in the dark. The cigarette.

She only had a moment for the realization to register.

It was the worst pain she'd ever felt–she could still feel it every now and then, that white-hot agony flooding her body for just a moment, turning her soul to dust. It had felt like she had left her body, floated away, just to get away from that torture. Or, who knows, maybe that's what it's like to die.

And then she woke up.

When she came to, she was shaking and crouched on the floor. The ice had melted, leaving a puddle at her feet, and Serena had a warm arm around her. "C'mon, Fighter," she said softly, leading the unresponsive girl to a bench in the corner. "Come on."

When her quivering began to fade, the girl looked around, taking in the situation. The train was still moving at a steady pace. Cedric wasn't looking–he once had nightmares like that too, and he knew well what she was feeling–and even Auren looked sorry.

"Are you alright?" the dragon asked carefully, not wanting to betray the cold demeanour he'd adopted, but unable to ignore his worry.

The girl nodded. She'd never felt so drained before. "Besides being forced to relive something that," she swallowed the lump in her throat, "'nearly' killed me, yeah, I'm fine."

Weakly, she spoke up again. "If you're not going to save yourselves, then please just let me go."

The dragon glanced at Cedric, but he shook his head. "Too late," Auren said, turning away. "If we stop now, we'll all be caught before we can get to the tunnels. So we might as well finish what we started."

She sat stoic on the bench, feeling hollow. Too stubborn to give in. She should have just left when she had the chance... Now, her and her friends would all die.

Trying to be nice and brighten the mood, Cedric spoke up. "You wanted to drive last time, right?" He came over, taking her hand with a tenderness unusual for the mole and leading her to the controls. "Well, congratulations! You're an engineer now."

The girl stared dimly down at the controls. "You want me to drive this thing?" She gazed down at the buttons and finally shrugged. If she was going to die, she may as well be the one driving to her doom. "Fine."

So she did what Cedric told her, though there was no rush left to feel. She felt like she was standing still, not rushing over the earth at a hundred miles per hour. Soon enough, the city changed from bare grass and half-finished buildings to stark pavement and grey towers. They had reached the guards' district. Soon, the tracks would come to an end.

The train was sleek and silent on the rails, so no one would wake up until the terrible crash that would resound across the city–and, now that she thought about it, the fire that would rage through this district. Her body could be so mangled that they wouldn't recognize her even as human. The Guardians might not know what had happened to her.

Her mind began to drift aimlessly. She wasn't really ready to die, but then, she hadn't been the first time either. At least she would go out with a crash, an explosion, an event that would be remembered for centuries. Not as a worthless kid who probably got some small corner in the newspaper, if even that much.

"Oh, how sad," they would say. And then they would turn back to their happy lives, and she would be forgotten.

She closed her eyes. She'd never get to see Addison again... Her first friend in this arc of her life, and he would have to forever think he'd been forgotten.

You sure you're not coming with us in a few days?

The girl took pause, thinking. Where had Addison been going, she wondered? All the guards are out on a hunting trip! That's what Auren had said, right?

Well–her eyes snapped open; she was wide awake now–the captain ordered me to guard the place...

She had to stop this train.

The girl fumbled about in a panic, finally remembering and locating the emergency brake and yanking it with all she had. The train came to a screeching halt, jolting the girl onto the control panel, Cedric and Auren on the floor, and tipping Serena onto the other end of the bench.

Once everyone's momentary shock had cleared, Auren stood. "What's the deal?!" he yelled angrily. "Now we're all gonna–"

"My friend is in the barracks!" the girl cried.

Auren gazed at her dubiously. "That better not be a lie..."

"I mean it!" The girl was shaking now. "I overheard him saying that he'd be staying at the barracks! If we go through with this, we could kill him!"

Everyone could see their friend's sincerity; this wasn't just an excuse. "Alright," Auren said with a weary nod. "Well, let's all get out of here, before–"

"In the name of Warfang, everyone come out of that train at once!"

They all scrambled to the window, gazing out. On the streets below, a force of guards stood, swords and bows drawn. The group exchanged glances, wide-eyed. They were nowhere near the tunnels. Now what could they do?

The girl walked back over to the controls, gazing down at the buttons. Cedric would most likely be banished from Warfang, if he wasn't just locked up forever. Serena might lose her home at the orphanage. Auren–he may not have planned for his future, but his name would be ruined. He would never get the chance to have one at all.

But she, a nameless, faceless cheetah... If she could keep her identity secret, what did she have to lose?

"You're all going to climb onto the balcony," the girl said steadily, turning away from them. "I'm going to start the train. Cedric, Serena, I'm going to need you two to hold on tight to each other, and you're all going to jump down and run."

Serena stepped forward, one arm clutched to her chest. "What about you?"

The girl smiled at her. "I'll be alright."

Next it was Auren would tried to argue. "I'm the one who got us into this mess," he said quietly. "I'll do it! You run!"

To everyone's surprise, the girl slammed her hand on the metal panel, her serenity broken. The ringing hadn't finished when she yelled out, "What are you going to do if you get arrested, huh? Who's going to get you out? Do any of you have anyone like that? Do you have money? Do you have family?"

They all stared, silent. Through the window, the shouts were getting more insistent.

"I have the Guardians," she lied. "So, please. Go."

Several moments passed. The girl thought for a minute that they would refuse, that they would all face those guards together. But Serena was the first to go. She hugged her friend, much to the girl's surprise, then climbed up the ladder with her head ducked so the guards wouldn't see her.

Cedric was next, bowing his head inaudibly, then following the cheetah.

Then, there was Auren, standing stricken next to the ladder. He looked like he wanted to say something–sorry, don't, I'll stay with you–but soon, he turned and climbed up the hatch as well.

Now alone, the girl turned to the front window, looking down at the controls. Taking a deep breath, she slid the speed switch to the first notch. Then she waited a bit, gazing out the windows. On the right, the guards had begun to run, screaming and chasing down the train. On the left, she saw three shadows hit the ground.

Before she could even consider perhaps just leaving the train on speed one and jumping herself, guards flooded in from the left, though the trio of shadows went unnoticed as they disappeared into the dark.

There was no turning back now. She just had to distract them for the five minutes her friends would need to safely escape into the ruins.

As the train sped steadily along, the guards trailing just behind it, the girl closed her eyes. Had she made the right decision? It certainly wasn't fair that she would have to take the fall when she'd been telling them this whole time to stop... But Auren was right. She wasn't innocent either. She had taken that joyride just like the rest of them.

And, for whatever reason, tonight she had followed.

The right thing to do, in the first place, would have been to have not come to this train at all. To go home the moment she caught the inkling that what they were going to do that day was wrong. But, here she was.

She had already screwed up, so now, she had to make it right again. She had to do what she knew was just in her heart.

Follow your heart. It will never fail you.

Ignitus hadn't said that yet, but he was right.

The girl opened her eyes. The end of the line was coming. She slowed the train to just one notch and waited.

The moons were waning, and she couldn't really see outside. That's why she only saw the tracks coming to an end once she was practically on top of them. Though she panicked, reaching for the brakes and bringing the train to a slow halt, she wasn't fast enough.

As the cab of the train began to slope downwards, sending her falling onto the window that was now the floor, the girl thought dissociatively to herself, Is this the end?

The answer was no–at least not yet. Though the screeching and rumbling the train made as it went down was quite scary, as was the sudden change in what was wall and what was floor, the girl was actually in very little danger.

Though the cab of the train was at nearly a 90 degree angle, it soon gently came to rest on the dirt. The rest of the train still sat on the tracks, completely unharmed. The great beast creaked and shuddered a bit, but finally, everything went still.

Once she had been sitting there a while, still in shock that she and the train had survived, the girl stood. The once-vertical ladder was now like monkey bars on the ceiling, leading out a hole in the wall, but they were in reach. Climbing up, she managed to grab a bar and swing her legs out the hatch so that she sat out it.

She peered down. Fifty-or-so guards stood there, squinting silently up at her. Not wanting to miss out on her five seconds of fame, the girl pushed herself off, landing flawlessly on the ground. "Ta-da!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air.

The guards were not amused.

She soon found herself sitting in the top floor of what was the guard district's own jail for especially dangerous or important prisoners. It was rather like a medieval prison tower, with worn grey bricks and narrow stairs, though luckily it lacked the torture room.

Her prison cell had a window with a rather nice view of the city, a simple futon-like bed in the corner, and a low table with old cushions surrounding it. There was also a chair next to the window, and this was where she was sitting, thinking about how romantic her situation was if nothing else, when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

The hatch in the floor opened, and up came a solidly-built fire dragon with a pair of silver glasses on his snout. He looked tired, though not grumpy; his yellow-gold eyes appeared... Well, sympathetic was the wrong word, but he certainly didn't appear to be angry.

The dragon sized up the little girl sitting wide-eyed in the chair, and waved his paw at the soldiers trailing behind him. "You may leave."

Once the hatch had closed, he ambled over to the table, sitting down and pulling out some papers and a quill. The girl still sat in the corner, and he motioned for her to come over. Not wanting to step on any toes, she did, sitting across from him.

"Name?" the dragon asked, writing methodically on the paper. When the girl said nothing, he looked down at her seriously. "Withholding your identity does nothing for you, young one. At least not if you wish to go home." He was soft-spoken, but firm, like Ignitus.

The girl shook her head. "I don't need to go home."

He seemed to be seeing her for the first time, and he put his quill down. "Why is that?"

The child looked away, suddenly feeling rather small. Her 'noble deed' seemed odd now that she had to explain herself. "My... parents are important people," she said carefully. "Everyone will blame them for my actions. So..."

The girl looked up at him. "It's okay if you keep me locked up here forever. But I can't tell you anything about me."

The dragon nodded. There was curiosity in his eyes, but he seemed to understand. "Well, o Nameless One," he said, almost sounding like he was teasing, "May you deign to tell me your age, at least?" At the girl's silence, he explained, "If you are a child, you will be treated less harshly."

"Fif–" the girl stopped herself, thinking. Her birthday was in October, and she had... died in December.

She wasn't sure what month it had been when she arrived, or just how long she had been out before she'd woken up in this world. But she was willing to bet it had been the equivalent to mid-July to early August next year. And she had been here four or so months, so...

Happy late birthday to me, the girl thought bitterly. "I'm sixteen," she said softly, hardly able to believe it.

She couldn't exactly know how time had warped itself to put her in this world at all, but assuming it only went forward... There it was. Sweet sixteen.

"Since you are a child," the dragon was saying, tapping on the table to bring her back to attention, "I may be willing to let you off the hook... If you tell me who your parents are, and who else was with you."

When the girl shook her head, he sighed. "You've caused quite the stir, you know. Here I thought this was a group of bandits... When in reality, it was simply a band of children."

"I did it alone, both times," she mumbled, looking away. "It was only me."

"I saw the others myself," the dragon said, pushing up his glasses.

She met his eyes. "You saw wrong."

They stared at each other for a long time, and finally the dragon leaned forward, all business now. "Why did you steal the train?"

The girl wavered, but she sat up straight and didn't break her gaze. "I guess I just wanted to have fun. I knew it was wrong the second time I came here... But it was too late to stop myself."

The guard was tapping his claws on the table again, thinking, but finally he scribbled something down on the paper and stood. "Alright, then," he said evenly, gathering his things. "If you have anything else you'd wish to tell me, please let the guard outside know. You must remain here until a family member of yours picks you up."

The girl looked after him, suddenly curious. "Who are you?"

He stopped with the hatch raised, glancing back. For the first time, the dragon smiled at her. "I'm the captain of the guard, of course."

The hours passed. Though she lay on her cot, the girl couldn't sleep. She stared up at the grey brick ceiling, dark with only moonlight illuminating it. This place... Well, it wasn't so bad. She'd only have to spend two years in here, right? It was spacious. She could ask for books. By the time she aged out, the war would be over, and maybe she could go home.

But while she sat alone, thinking these melodramatic thoughts, a thumping on the stairs came again and the hatch opened rather suddenly. Her head fell to the side on the pillow, and she was surprised to see a familiar mole standing there, candle in hand.

"Addison?" the girl asked, sitting up. Seeing him here, alive, when he had skirted so close to death without even knowing...

To her confusion, the mole laughed, shaking his head as he set the candle down. "I had to see for myself," Addison said incredulously. "What are you doing here, miss?"

The girl looked away. "I crashed a train, of course... They won't let me out because I won't tell them..." She glanced warily at the hatch. "If they find out who I'm staying with... You know what will happen to them, right?"

Addison was just a simple scout, but he knew the vilifying, scathing things the council often said about the Guardians. The mole scratched his head with a sigh. "Not to fear, miss. I'll get you out of here," he said finally.

He was surprised to see the girl shake her head. "I deserve to be here," she said quickly. "And I can't put them in danger. So please, don't."

Addison made a face. "You're just a child, miss. I won't have you staying here another moment!" Before she could protest, the guard whirled around and hopped through the hatch.

A few minutes later, she could hear the captain's soft voice again from the crack she had her ear pressed to. "You want me to let her out, after stealing and crashing a train–twice? Evading the guards? Grand theft, vandalism, trespassing?"

"Yes." The girl almost smiled at the guard captain's speechless silence.

"Say that I am related to her. I know her caretakers; I will deliver her to them myself."

"Who are they?"

Addison said nothing. He knew the repercussions.

"Addison, you know I would not leak such information to the press."

"But, sir, it will be on a document somewhere. Someone else will."

It was quiet for a long time. Finally, Addison spoke again. "You know I do not usually expect retribution for the favours I do for others. This time, it is different, and I must ask. You do owe me a favour."

There was another span of silence, and she heard the captain's voice again. "Addison, you helped me in a time of need, so I will do this one thing for you. But do not do me any favours again."

"Yes, sir."

"And–" The girl gulped. "Make sure she does not do this again. Next time, I will not so kindly interrogate her. She will be subject to the same harsh questioning as any adult, and she will not be let off with just a warning." His voice was loud now; he wanted her to hear.

"Yessir."

She scrambled away from the hatch right before it opened. Addison poked his head through the hole and motioned for her to follow.

After a long descent down the stairs, they reached the lobby of the tower, where the captain was waiting for them. He sat behind a wooden desk, with a chest of confiscated evidence behind him. Pulling out the sword and sword-belt that had been confiscated from her, the dragon made to hand it to her. He stopped as she reached out, drawing it to examine it.

"'Never give up without a fight'," the captain mused. "An old dragon proverb, no?" He sheathed the sword, but as she took it hesitantly, the dragon leaned down. "The motto of the Guardians themselves, they say."

The girl stared hard at him, but he only tilted his head, smiling slightly and still gripping the sword belt. "It would indeed be a shame if there were any reason for those brave warriors to meet public scorn, for mistakes not their own. Keep your nose clean, young one."

The girl frowned, but she nodded. She knew that he was only warning her. Finally, he let go of her sword, and she slung it over her shoulder. Turning her back, she walked out the doors and into the night.

Things between her and Addison were quiet for a while. They walked down the streets side-by-side; he seemed to already know where the Guardians lived, so they had no reason to talk.

But finally, as they headed under a tree that shaded them from the light of the rising sun, the girl ventured, "I'm glad to see you again... Even under these circumstances."

Addison cast her a small smile. "And I as well, miss." The mole paused a moment. "But now I must ask... This act seems quite out of character for you, so why have you done it?"

The girl sat on the bricks surrounding the tree. She thought about spilling the whole truth–but she knew, once they were home, he would tell the Guardians everything. Even if she begged him not to. She'd have to lie to protect her friends.

"I don't know why," she said softly. "I guess–" Serena's words came back to her then. "I guess I was tired of being the good kid."

Addison only looked at her doubtfully, so the girl stood quickly. "Let's go."

The walk seemed shorter than it was; crossing from one side of the city to the other took quite awhile, but for the girl it flew by in minutes. Finally, they were standing together in front of that imposing door. Addison raised his paw to knock, but the girl opened the door herself.

Flouncing in, she collapsed on the couch and pointed up the stairs. "They're up there," she said dryly. "Bring in the executioners."

Soon, they were all assembled in the living room, the girl crossing her arms and staring at the ceiling as Addison explained the reason for his visit.

"You stole a train? By yourself?" Ignitus asked, half with disbelief and half in exasperation. The other Guardians expressed similar displeasure.

If she was flippant and defensive about this... They might be less likely to question her, right? Addison noticed the immediate change in the girl's demeanour as she sat up straight and said loudly, "Yeah, I did. So what? It's not like I care what happens to me!"

Ignitus stared. That was a new reaction, and one he wasn't entirely sure was sincere. Finally he said, "I don't believe you're capable of doing this on your own."

"Well," the girl said, standing, "Apparently I am!" She brushed past Addison as she stomped off to the library.

Everyone stared after her as she disappeared through the doorway. They were all aware that something was off, though no one could pinpoint what exactly.

The last thing she heard was Volteer's ramble of, "I find it difficult, perplexing, nigh impossible to believe..."

Feeling genuinely stormy, the girl sat in a chair with a huff, laying her head on her arms, though the fake angry expression slipped into one of worry. This was the right thing to do. She knew it was. Protecting her friends, even at her own cost... How could that be wrong?

But the blatant lying felt wrong too. She scrunched up her face, kicking herself as she realized that tears were brimming. No one could be happy in this situation! Even though she followed her heart, everyone would perceive what she had done as bad! How was that fair?

She should never have stepped on that train... Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could one girl get herself into so many scrapes?

Once Addison had taken his leave, expressing that they should go easy on her before she went, Ignitus cautiously entered the library. Her back was to him, so he took a few steps in, making his presence clear. Once he received no outburst, he sat on the other side of the table.

She only glanced at him. "What?" she asked, too emotionally drained to put any edge in her voice.

Ignitus was carefully considering what to say, so as to not provoke her. His instincts were telling him that something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his claw on it.

Finally, he spoke. "If there's something you're not telling us," he said evenly, "Such as who you committed this crime with–because I can certainly say that I know you well enough to understand that you cannot have done this on your own–then you can tell me."

She glanced at him again, seeming to be considering it. The girl knew that he was being sincere, not just trying to get the information out of her, but... she couldn't. Finally, she turned back to the table. "I did this on my own."

Ignitus sighed. "I would have thought you to be more mature than this," he said tiredly. "I did not expect–"

"I'm not him," she interrupted, her voice dark. The fire Guardian tilted his head, and though she wanted to swallow her words, she continued, "This person you keep comparing me to, who I remind you of," she stood, real frustration welling up, "I'm not like him!"

Before Ignitus could say anything, she cried out, fists clenched, "And Spyro is an infinitely better person than I will ever be!"

She looked like she wished to take it back, but instead of saying anything else, she turned and ran. She thought that she would run to her room, but her feet took her out the back door, into the night. Spotting the great tree, almost bare of leaves now, she grabbed a branch and climbed. Finally, picking a spot still bushy with wispy willow leaves, she planted herself there.

The girl didn't cry though she felt like it. She sat completely still against the trunk, staring up at the starry sky. How could they look so cheerful right now? She felt so hollow that she couldn't feel the cold against her face as she pulled the bandanna down.

Her eyes were hollow as she brought up her knees, leaning into them. One little mistake, and now everything was so screwed up. Her friends, her family–all of them could go away! No matter what she had done to try and make it better... She'd only screwed it up more!

Why was it that, even when she was doing the right thing, she had to find a way to mess it up?

Chapter Text

She didn't talk to anyone the next day. Any attempts at placation, scolding, forgiveness, were all met with mute silence and a turned back. Mostly she lay in bed, hungry but lacking even the slightest bit of appetite or energy. Exhausted from a sleepless night, but unable to close her eyes.

The girl drifted in and out of restless half-dreams, drawn out by the murmur of conversation or the sound of the city every few minutes. This was how the day passed. She didn't feel upset or angry or sorry for herself. She didn't feel anything.

When she managed to catch a few winks of sleep, she woke up to find some fruit on her desk. She pushed it away.

Soon you'll be like Strider, she thought to herself. That's what you've always done, right? When things get too hard, you curl up into yourself and go silent. Until everyone forgets you.

She hadn't cried yet–not once–but for some reason this thought made her burst into a wave of hot tears that dampened her pillow and left her snivelling and sobbing nearly an hour later.

By that point, the sun had long set and she had heard three of the Guardians stomp off to bed. The girl was beginning to feel a little better about herself thanks to that good cry, but her heart still dropped with dread when she thought about what she had to do next.

Once she could hear their snores, the girl stood and padded through the hallway, glancing in to make sure the Guardians were indeed asleep. Down the stairs she coasted like a ghost, and just as she expected, she found Ignitus in the living room, reading by candlelight.

For some reason, she was suddenly reminded of Atticus in To Kill a Mockingbird. Taking a breath, the girl padded over and sat down across from him. The Guardian didn't acknowledge her presence.

She opened her mouth, but she wasn't sure what to say. How could she explain that she had done what she thought was right without giving her friends away? Finally, she settled for a simple. "I'm sorry."

When she still got no response, the child squirmed uncomfortably. "I know I messed up. I mean," she stumbled, "I don't even need to say that, but I... I don't know why I did it." That was not a lie, at least if you changed what the "it" was referring to. "I don't know."

The silence between them was eerie. She knew that she deserved the silent treatment, after all, but it was making her feel uneasy. "I'm trying, you know," she muttered. "I really am. I know you don't believe me, but it's just... No matter what I do..." The girl looked down. "I just screw it all up anyway."

When the silence became too much to bear, she said hesitantly. "Can I go out?"

Finally, the great dragon looked up from his book, a question in his eyes. "You know I cannot stop you, nor would I try."

She nodded. "But, believe it or not," she laughed shortly, "I respect you enough to listen. So I need your blessing."

When Ignitus only tilted his head, she continued, "I won't stay long. My friends just need to know I'm okay."

She realized that she'd made a mistake when interest flickered into the candlelit eyes. "Why would they have any cause to believe that you were in danger?"

The teenager stared hard at him, and after a moment said, "I meant that I needed to tell them what had happened, and that I won't be back for a while."

They gazed at each other for a while, though the elder of the two knew that she had stumbled, and her story was beginning to unravel. Finally, the dragon seemed to shrug. "You may go, then."

The girl flew out into the night with nary a glance backwards, pounding over the pavement at top speed. She nearly flew up the wall, and indeed would have catapulted right over had gravity not rooted her firmly to the ground.

They were all huddled together, silent and wide-eyed as they stared at their friend like she was a miracle, or perhaps a ghost.

The girl realized that Serena's eyes were shiny as they welled up with tears, and she scratched the back of her head. "Aw, geez," she muttered. "I didn't mean to–"

Before she could say anything more, she found herself encased in a furry blue hug. Then Cedric was there, wrapping his short arms around her, then Auren, laying his head on her shoulder. When no one was watching, Strider slipped in too.

And somewhere in the middle of her friend's arms, she began to cry.

"I thought–you–were–dead!" Serena sobbed.

"We checked every bloody jail in Warfang and couldn't find you there," the mole muttered. "No one'd ever 'eard a you either."

The cheetah was still sobbing, but she managed to compose herself enough to cry out, "The papers said that the train was crashed and they didn't know who stole it!"

"So we figured you was either dead or in a dungeon somewhere," Cedric finished.

The girl sniffled, shocked at their concern. "A guard friend of mine got me out. They let me off with a warning."

Everyone was listening now. "You're friends with a guard?" the mole boy asked incredulously.

She nodded. "I know some of them are mean, but..." She wiped her eyes. "He was my first friend in Warfang. I promise you, they're not all so bad!"

So, munching on some still-warm cookies, the girl told her side of the story. Her first meeting with Addison, and her eavesdropping as well, how she failed to understand the words until later. She skipped over the gory details of the panic attack before anyone could ask, but she did explain her position and why she was so adamant about avoiding (train) crashes. And then her time in the tower–she nearly slipped and called it the Bastille–the soft-spoken, glasses-wearing guard captain, and the rescue by her brave captor.

They all sat rapturously, listening to their friend's awe-inspiring story, and all offered hasty apologies for the part they had played. But as the night passed and the tale came to a close, the group began to disperse; they'd all only been waiting there to see if their friend would come. Soon, it was her and Auren, sitting alone on the wall. Just like that one night.

The boy had been strangely quiet, and she noticed him trying to speak up now. Occasionally he would pace over, open his mouth, then quickly walk away. She said nothing–after all, it had been him who got them into this whole mess.

Finally, after much deliberation, the dragon tumbled out, "I'm sorry."

The girl glanced over. "You've been thinking for 20 minutes, and that's what you came up with?" There was no bite in her voice, but to say she wasn't still a bit upset with him would be a lie. Though she tried to soften her heart... he'd said a lot of harsh things.

Stammering at this scorn, the dragon closed his mouth with a click and resumed his frantic pacing. After a while, he spoke again. "I don't know what came over me," he muttered, shaking his head. "I-I even wanted to stop and go home, but I just couldn't. I can't explain..."

The girl stared at the ground. She understood; some things, no matter how sorry about them you felt, you just couldn't justify. There was nothing you could say to make it right, to fix what you had done, or even to put it in a better light.

So, she shrugged. "I forgive you."

Auren snorted. "No, you don't. I can tell."

She looked back at him a moment. "It's not that simple to go back to being easy-going friends, Auren. You were really cruel to me, and you nearly got us all killed besides." Sighing, she turned away. "But that doesn't mean I don't forgive you. I understand.

"If you could take it back, you would. So... There's nothing else to say." The girl stood and made to leave. "It's really hard to trust you right now... But someday, we'll forget about this. So try not to worry about it too much."

Auren gazed helplessly after, but finally, he ran forward. "Let me make it up to you, then!" he cried, stumbling over the words. The girl turned, curious. "You should... come over to my house. For dinner. Next week. Er, with my mom and Tyren, not just me," he said quickly.

Despite her somberness, the girl saw an opportunity and she had to take it. "Like... A date?" she asked with a smile.

"Uhh...!" If reptiles could blush, Auren's face would be beet red. "I mean, uh, if you want to call it that, but–but no, nonono, it's not really–"

"Okay."

The dragon blinked. "O...kay?"

"Yes." The girl nodded. "I'll come."

Auren nodded too, finally settling down. "So, until then..." he said carefully, looking up at her, "Let's be friends again, alright?"

The girl smiled, and the cracks in her soul began to mend. "Yes. Let's." She turned away, heading along the wall, on the verge of fading into the night.

The ice boy furrowed his brow as she began her walk. "Uh... Aren't you going home?" he called after her.

She glanced back for the last time, considering, and finally turned again down the brick path. "Not yet. There's still something I need to do."

And Auren watched as she disappeared into the dark.

~~...~~

It took a long time to get to her destination. The gang usually made their nest near the south wall, so getting to the opposite end was quite a walk. But soon enough, she found herself standing in the building's shadow, gazing up at it.

The Northeast Watchtower.

There was a window in jumping distance–a narrow, glassless hole in the wall she'd barely be able to fit through. It took a few leaps, but she managed it. And with the strength months of physical training had provided, she just barely pulled herself up.

She tumbled in, collapsing on the floor in a heap. The room she found herself in was in as much a disarray as she was; it was a dusty, messy storage room, stacked high with boxes and bookcases.

Addison was there, and the paw that had been going for his bow slowly returned to its side. "That you, miss?" the mole asked, squinting at the silhouette flailing on the ground.

After she'd straightened herself and shook the dust out of her robe, a little smile came on his face. "You know, miss, if you would like to visit me... I would very much recommend the door."

The girl didn't say anything, and her smile was invisible behind the bandanna, so the mole reached out a paw. "Would you like to sit with me awhile? It does indeed get lonely up here sometimes."

She nodded and took his paw, and the two ascended the stairs to the rooftop. What greeted them was a sight to behold: a fine view of the surrounding countryside, with a bright blanket of stars over it all. Warfang was mostly surrounded by flat forests and plains, but they were high up enough to see the distant hills, and, even further away, the misty mountain ranges.

"What are those lights?" the girl asked, pointing to the mountains. At their base and partway up, tiny glowing pinpricks seemed to dance like fairies.

"Ah, the miners use lanterns strapped to sticks to find their way," Addison said, pulling over a chair for her to sit in. "Pretty, aren't they? It's dangerous to be outside Warfang, though. I pity them."

The girl realized that he was holding out a cup for her. On a squat table, the only furnishing up here besides the chairs, sat a large teapot. "Tea?" he asked. "Helps keep you awake, a little bit." Nodding, she took it.

And there they sat.

The girl only sipped hers a little. Mostly she was happy just to feel the warmth emanating off it, as it was a cold night. It would be winter soon. A year since her death, and nearly half since she had come here. Somewhere in the laughter-filled nights, the constant training, the long, long walk to Warfang, she had lost track of time.

After they had been there a while, the girl asked the concentrating mole, "What are you looking for?"

Addison straightened. "Ah, well, only what you would expect," the mole said, scratching his head. "A massive ape army approaching, enemy scouts trying to slip into the city, children sneaking out..." He smiled. "Cheetah rogues trying to climb up the watchtower..."

Realizing that he was talking about her, the girl laughed. Addison continued, his grin fading, "Usually, I bring a book to keep myself occupied, but I knew tonight I would need time to think."

Looking askance at him, the girl took a deep breath and finally asked the question she had come here for. "Why did you help me?"

When Addison only gazed at her, head cocked, she continued quickly, "I mean, I would consider us friends, I really would–but, well, we hardly even know each other. Yet you took all this trouble just for me."

The scout looked like he was thinking–he did have that wise look about him, like he was always deep in thought–and finally smiled to himself. "Well, miss, believe it or not... I was quite the troublemaker myself back in the day."

The girl quirked an eyebrow and he laughed. "Oh, yes," he chortled, "I was born and raised in Warfang, and I was quite mad about it. I hated the guards. I hated the walls. I hated all the rules. But most of all–I hated the war, that had put all these terrible things in my life. Still do," he said thoughtfully.

"Up until I was about your age, I would do about anything to get into trouble. I'd break into banks or the councilhouse to steal money and papers–and leave it on the porch. It was the thrill I wanted, not the items. People were bewildered, 'til I got caught and confessed."

Addison burst out laughing. "I believe I wanted to go to jail, miss. They warned me over and over again, but I kept pulling these pranks, and the elders' patience was wearing thin. Finally, I was thrown in jail.

"But one of the guards took pity on me." Addison smiled. "I believe you and him are acquainted, actually. Can you guess who?"

The girl didn't need to think too hard. "The guard captain."

The mole nodded. "Wasn't the captain then. He was nearly as young as I was, a greenie in fact. But like me, he had friends in high places. So I was home before dawn, mother none the wiser."

"Why did he help you?" she asked, leaning forward unconsciously.

Addison considered this. "The same reason I helped you," he said finally. "He listened to me; through the anger, he heard the words underneath. I wasn't a bad kid, you see. I was a delinquent who'd been driven mad by this blasted war.

"So, instead of putting my... 'skills' to use in teenage pranks, he suggested I join the war as a scout. Put my anger towards fighting the war, not hindering the efforts of the poor guards who suffered my young wrath." Addison leaned back. "So... Here I am. Now, instead of stealing from old dragons and breaking into mansions, I sneak into ape encampments and get intelligence that can help us win the war.

"Even dressed up as an ape once, seeing as how I'm just tall enough to pass as one." The mole smirked. "In and out in three days, and they weren't any the wiser."

"You're more like a spy," the girl pointed out, smiling.

Addison nodded. "That's true, but I'm not meant to tell anyone." He winked.

The girl grinned. A delinquent, and a spy besides? She never would have imagined that of this formal, well-spoken mole! But suddenly, guilt flooded her and she had to look away. She would never have the chance to join the war, even if she wanted to. And she almost did–she would gladly die fighting for this world, but Lily...

Seeing the look on her face, Addison said gently, "If you are having second thoughts about joining the war, miss, please do not worry. My point was, I let you go so you could have a second chance–not to force you to join. This life is not for everyone, indeed it isn't."

The girl shook her head quickly. "It's not that. I would still love to fight. It's just..." She looked away. "Someone needs me. If I died, they'd be alone."

Addison looked at her curiously, but seeing that she wasn't going to elaborate, he nodded. "Well, either way, miss," he said, "You'll have a few years yet to consider it."

Will I? she wondered. She wasn't sure where exactly she stood in the timeline, but with the grublins beginning to rise, she most likely wasn't in the first year of Spyro's disappearance.

No, she decided. She had woken up in the correct time, late summer, but the Guardians had looked much too weary for Spyro to have only been gone a few months. By next year–maybe even this summer–the war could be over.

It was a thought that both thrilled her and filled her with dread.

She stood. "I'd better be getting back. I'm, uh..." she laughed, "unofficially grounded."

"It was nice to see you, miss," Addison said cheerfully. "Will you come back again sometime? It does occasionally feel like the apex of solitude up here."

The girl giggled at his old-fashioned speech, but she nodded. "Yeah, I think I will. But for now," she bowed, heading for the edge (and sizing up the distance down to the wall), "I must return to my imprisonment. Farewell!"

And she hopped off the ledge, landing with a grimace on the stone bricks below. Smiling at her dramatic retreat, she hobbled home, knowing that she would have a friend waiting here whenever she needed him.

~~...~~

The week slipped by, and the Guardians noticed the girl's mood improve dramatically. They didn't heckle her too much about the train crash, because they were all aware that something about her story was not quite right. But, to their credit, they didn't give her a hard time about her questionable choice in friends either.

The girl did feel guilt, true. She would have gladly accepted full punishment, but no one spoke of it. So, she punished herself by mostly staying inside, doing a lot of reading and trying her best to both help around the house and stay out of the way.

And so, once she was able to meet with Auren to plan her visit, she found herself on the way to her friend's house. The directions he'd given her were crude and difficult to understand, but she quickly realized that she was not exiting the "nicer" part of Warfang. In fact, she had entered a neighborhood even better than her own, with houses three and four stories, and pretty rustic architecture to go with it.

Though the cheetah girl Moira brought her pretty robes every once in a while–a blue one trimmed with silver, a red one with a gem-studded belt, a dark green one that seemed to be made of silk and flowed like a ball dress–she felt out-of-place here!

She turned right, off the street and into a grassy path decorated with tall trees. Up the hill she crested, and through the transplanted forest she could see the roof of a house poking through the leaves. As she rounded the corner, the girl had to stop in her tracks, gaping.

It was the most magnificent mansion she'd ever seen; it seemed to be three stories high and wider than the imposing councilhouse besides. On the right, a little tower stretched into the sky. And besides the dozens of windows, right in the middle, near the roof, a circular stained glass window sent colours dancing over the ground.

And the yard! Why, the whole thing seemed bigger than her abandoned beach! It was surrounded in flowers, their colours popping against the green–she hadn't seen so much grass since she'd escaped Warfang!–and the yard was littered with odd toys and even a big play-house with ladders and slides!

Auren had been sitting in a garden swing, but seeing her standing there gawking, he quickly rushed over the stone path to meet her. Seemingly embarrassed, he kicked at the ground. "Hey, Fighter."

"Your mom is loaded," was the only thing the girl could say, still staring at the great house.

The boy made a face. "Don't say that!" he cried.

Finally coming back to herself, the girl grinned. "Loaaa-deeedddd!"

"Fighter..." Auren warned, looking mortified, a fact that never ceased to amuse her.

Stepping closer, the girl slowly leaned down to his ear, stopping a few moments for suspense, and whispered, "Loaded."

The two were on the ground wrestling when Tyren came running out of the house, screaming in his child's lisp, "Fiiiidaaaaa!"

The girl had barely a moment to sit up before the boy was on her, knocking her back into the dirt again.

"No love for your brother, eh?" Auren said dryly. He too found himself on the ground.

"Tyren!" Hearing a sharp cry, all three of them raised their heads. Dia was standing in the doorway. "You must be careful knocking people over near the hill. Why... You could go tumbling down and kill yourselves!"

The girl blinked. She'd said that as coolly as if she'd been talking about the weather, still smiling all the way.

"Well," Dia beamed, "Let's all come in! It's almost time for dinner!" Turning on her heel, the water dragon disappeared into the doorway, tail trailing behind her.

As they headed inside, Auren's mother immediately turned back to the door and began to lock it. There were at least ten locking mechanisms–deadbolts, chains, spring-loaded ones, locks inside other locks. They all observed her go through this ritual, Auren looking more flustered than ever, and finally the girl spoke up.

"Why do you have all those locks?" she asked. "Most people don't seem to even lock their doors."

"Oh, how horrifying!" the mother exclaimed, clutching her chest. "It's to keep out thieves and assassins, of course. Why, you'd never know if someone could come into your house and kill you."

The girl stared, and then turned to Auren. He gave her a look and a shrug as his mother continued, "I also keep all the windows sealed shut, and only use the strongest glass, and..."

She continued rambling as she led them down a long hallway with many doors and into a living room. This one had a hearth, though it was cold and dead, and what resembled a piano (though its top appeared to be nailed shut), along with plush couches and cushions with lace trim.

"Alright, children," Dia said cheerfully, sitting back on her hind legs to clap her paws. "You make yourselves at home, now–but remember, no fires! And be careful of nails! And don't let any wild animals in the house! And no jumping on the furniture; you could fall and break your neck!"

"Mom," Auren said. Seeing his mother looking anxious and trembling, he softened his expression and said quickly, "I'll make sure she knows the rules, okay?"

Dia smiled, relieved. "That's my helpful boy. I'll call you when dinner is ready!"

Now with the neurotic lady gone, the girl had time to look around. The place, though lavish, was... rather bare. A fire in the hearth would have warmed the place up, or maybe a few candles or rugs or paintings, but this room had none of these.

Seeing the confused look on her face, Auren said flatly, "You could trip on a rug and kill yourself. Paintings could fall on you, or you could cut yourself with the nail. Candles aren't allowed for obvious reasons."

"But you're all ice or water dragons."

Auren shrugged, suddenly looking somber. "Mom hasn't been the same since dad died. She's obsessed with death." He glanced at her, worried. "If it's too weird, you can go home–"

"No," the girl said quickly. "I've sailed through an ape fleet and fallen down ravines and crashed a train and even stared down the guard captain himself... I can deal with one quirky lady, can't I?" She grinned.

Auren smiled back, relieved. "Well," he said, stretching and patting Tyren's head, "Why don't we take a tour?"

Taking on a very serious look, the boy began immediately. "Here we are in the living room," Auren said somberly. "Now be careful, you wouldn't want to suffocate yourself in the couch. That's why we don't furnish them with pillows!"

Tyren and the girl giggled, following Auren as he coasted back into the hallway. "Here's the hall. We of course removed the tables and rugs because," the boy winked, "You could trip and kill yourself."

Right across the hall, Auren pointed into another room, this one filled with couches and seats as well as a variety of large instruments. The girl counted off a harp with its strings removed and yet another nailed-down piano, as well as instruments she didn't recognize.

"We're not allowed in here," Auren said dramatically. "If one of those instruments fell on us... they could kill us."

By the time they made it to where the hallway opened up into a large kitchen and dining room, Tyren and the girl were in fits of laughter, still smothering their snickering as Dia turned to them.

"Hello again, children," she said sweetly. "Dinner is almost ready–it's a very nice salad, and cold soup. We only eat cold things here. I hope you don't mind, dear?"

Realizing that she was talking to her, the girl smiled. "That sounds nice," she said politely. "Do you not have a stove?"

"Oh, we do," Dia said earnestly, "But I don't use it–we could all die in a horrible fire!"

"Ah. Right." The girl nearly burst into laughter again–lucky the mask concealed her smile!

Though, it soon faded... This was actually rather sad, in the context of what Auren's father had done. Maybe she shouldn't poke too much fun at her. This woman was so obsessed with keeping her only family left safe that it had driven her mad.

The girl glanced back at her friends. With Tyren tagging along–and from Auren's comment about leaving because of the ape attacks, she could sense that he didn't want his brother to know the truth–there would be no chance to talk to him today.

"We're just touring the house, Ma," Auren was saying, drawing the girl out of her thoughts.

"Oh, do be careful," his mother said anxiously. "You know I don't want you traipsing up and down those stairs; you could fall and break your neck..." Seeing the look on Auren's face, Dia sighed. "But I suppose it's alright, just this once."

The trio flew off before she could change her mind. They prowled about the house, visiting the living rooms and dancing rooms and drawing rooms that made up the first floor. Auren explained that this mansion had belonged to a socialite rich off diamond mines long ago. She'd hosted hundreds of parties here. It had lain abandoned for decades, but his father had bought it, furnishings and all.

Their mother's room was also on the first floor, but that needed no explanation.

The only thing left was the backyard, and here was a rather sizable swimming pond. There was even a waterfall, and a little river drained the water into Warfang's irrigation system, the gutters that ran through the city. Of course "gutter" was the wrong word for it; they were often filled with water that looked clean if nothing else, and it actually prettied up the city quite a bit.

"Couldn't you drown?" the girl whispered, glancing back at the kitchen.

Auren smiled. "I told her that having a large source of water about was 'absolutely necessary' for a young ice dragon's healthy elemental development."

"Sounds like a pile of crap to me."

"That's the point!"

Finally, they climbed the stairs on the left end of the house. It turned out there was no third story, just an attic. They poked their heads into the dusty place, glancing at the boxes. But they weren't supposed to go up there–their father's sharp medical equipment had been kept and boxed up as a keepsake, along with who knew what else.

The second floor, unlike the hallway-laden first floor, was wide and spacious. Much like the second floor on her own house, it was only half the place's length, and a balcony overlooked the first floor.

Most of this area was made up of another living room, filled with all sorts of grand furniture and decorations, and doors leading to other rooms at the edges. Auren whispered that, since his mom was too afraid of falling to climb stairs, he had bought things to furnish this area with himself and even ran a fire in the hearth sometimes–scandalous!

She noticed that a wide doorway to a balcony had boards nailed over it. "Why's that door blocked up?" she whispered.

Auren glanced at her, then quickly looked away. "We could fall off... or jump off."

She... did seem a bit obsessed with falling down, didn't she? Morbidly, the girl wondered just what method Auren's father had used.

Behind the doors lay more sitting rooms, and a writing room with a big desk as well. There was even a training room for fighting and physical exercise–though she noticed with amusement that the dummies were made of plush instead of straw, and had crude smiles drawn on their face.

Finally, there was Auren's room. The thing about one's own bedroom is that it often spoke of your interests, what you loved. And indeed, the ice dragon's room had a few trinkets from the beach. Some shells on the shelf, a jar of sand in the corner. But, well...

If Strider had a room, it would have had sketches pinned to the walls, paper in a neat stack, drawing utensils lined up at a comfortable desk. Cedric's would be filled with piles of the keepsakes he'd stolen. It would have a few instruments in the corner, and, like the boy himself, it would probably be a mess. And Serena's room she knew was filled to the brim with notebooks and quills and paper in a disarray–similar to Strider's bedroom, but the anxious, worrying girl would probably forget to pick her things up.

Even the girl's own bedroom had grown to encompass her nature. The things she had filled it with bespoke her dreamy, girlish character; upon the windowsill lay tufts of fragrant sweetgrass, tied with a string; pots and vases she had stolen from the kitchen were filled with pretty flowers saved from the autumn cold snaps; a bit of lacy cloth she'd found in a closet somewhere had been nailed above her bed to give it an airy feel. Her chest at the foot of the bed was, of course, filled with books.

And, since dragons didn't use normal chairs, she had dragged a sweet white one up the stairs. There it sat next to the window. She could often be found there, gazing dreamily out at the willow tree, or reading a book in the morning light.

Then, too, evidence of the warrior within came out as well. A dummy sat in the corner, sagging from use–though the stiff, unliving thing couldn't compare to the improvement the magical dummies at the Temple had given her, she still followed Ignitus' 500 swings a day regiment. It had kept her strong and swift despite the lack of training in Warfang; the Guardians looked much too burdened by war meetings and strategies to be bothered.

And–though she didn't dare touch her sword, already having ruined a few knives–there was the little whetstone she'd been given, and the cloth, laying on a desk.

The point is that one's bedroom often says a lot about the inhabitant, but Auren's room... Besides those small trinkets, it could have belonged to anybody. There was a bed, a rug, and one large half-circle window on the far wall. And there was a bit of furniture; most everything was plain white or grey in here. That was all.

The girl had wondered why the boy had said very little about himself that second meeting, why he had seemed so tied up with his friends, so worried when no one showed up. It's why she had begun coming so often, just so Auren wouldn't have to sit alone. Maybe the Meeting was all he had.

They were quickly ushered out of there and back down the stairs, the ice dragon saying with forced cheerfulness, "How about we go see Tyren's room next?"

"Yeah! My room, my room!" the little boy cried. He scampered ahead, leading them through a large double-doorway on the right of the house.

"This is the robby," Tyren said, pointing to the massive circular room.

Auren corrected, "The lobby."

"The lobby!"

The girl realized that they were in the tower she'd seen. This place looked much like the other sitting and living rooms, but with furniture suited for a very small dragon. There was even a tea set with a big plush cheetah sitting across the table.

Next, Tyren led them up the stairs that curved and twisted about like a corkscrew. "And this is the play-room!" Unsurprisingly, it was filled with a mess of toys, small play-houses, and even a slide.

He ran over and picked up a ceramic figurine of a yellow dragon, handing it to the girl. "You can play with my toys anytime you want," he chirped, smiling brightly. Then, turning, he dashed up the stairs again.

They followed, unable to keep up the little boy's pace. Auren was grinning now; she wasn't sure why, until her head popped up over the floor. The girl gaped, looking about in wonder.

The rest of Tyren's tower had been filled with the sort of things that suited a typical six-year-old, but this... The room was filled to the absolute brim with metal parts, little machines, bits and scraps that had been borrowed from the construction workers. Was–that a plane?

"Be careful," Tyren chastised gently. Running over to a desk piled with little robot-like objects, he picked one up. It looked like a metal mole. Cranking a handle, he set it on the floor, and soon it was scurrying about.

Auren leaned over. "Told'ja my brother was smart," he whispered with a smirk.

"I made one that moves on its own, too! Wanna see?"

The girl could scarcely believe it. When Tyren had offered to make a catapult, that hadn't just been a childish dream! This kid was destined to become a great engineer, or a toymaker at least. The next half-hour flew by like it was nothing.

As they were examining a very small train that used its own tiny version of steam power to move about, Dia's voice floated up the stairs. "Dinner time!" They heard a stomp as she mounted the first stair, then stopped. "Oh dear, oh dear... Come down in a minute, children!" Her footsteps quickly faded away.

And so, though the girl was still dizzy from exploring this massive house, they were soon all gathered around the low table having dinner. The soup was surprisingly edible; it was the kind that could be served cold without being disgusting. And the salad was good as well, despite the lettuce and slices of meat being a bit rough. Dia said that she had cut it with her claws, as knives weren't allowed in the house, and went on to explain the evil of whoever had invented knives.

Though, as she said this, her eyes drifted over to the girl, and at once she sprung out of her chair with a scream that left them all sitting up straight in alarm. The dragon pointed to her with utter shock on her face, her paw shaking violently as she cried, "You–you–you have a weapon on your back!"

The child blinked and looked at the sword belt. "I always carry it with me."

This seemed to send the anxious mother in a fit. "Why–it's just like a giant knife!"

The girl almost wanted to burst out laughing at this, but calmly, she stood. "This sword," she explained gravely, "is only for self-defense."

"S-self defense?" Dia sat back down, wringing her paws under the table.

"Yes, self-defense," the girl answered. "You see," she said, widening her eyes innocently, "Swords are completely harmless as long as they are sheathed, and I would never think of drawing it in the house!

"Once, I was even attacked by an ape!"

Dia exclaimed, "Gracious ancestors, an ape?!"

"Yes." The girl nodded, placing her hand over her chest. "It was quite a scare, but if I hadn't had this sword, I would certainly have been killed.

"And even in this situation," she continued, "What if a thief or an assassin came? It's certainly better to have some form of self-defense to protect yourself, even if it poses some risks, than a guaranteed death!"

With that, the girl sat. Dia looked thoroughly convinced, turning back to her meal. "Oh my, perhaps you're right... Maybe it would be alright to keep some knives in the house, just for self-defense..."

The girl winked at Auren, who grinned at her.

The meal continued pleasantly on. The girl almost felt at home here, and she hoped Auren would invite her over again. Sure, his mom was a little... eccentric, but she was certainly nice, and it had been great fun.

Near the end of the meal, the mother spoke up again. "Auren, how is your schooling going?"

The boy didn't miss a beat. "It's great, Mom. I have lots of friends."

The girl gave him a look, and he shrugged. It wasn't quite a lie.

"Tyren," Dia asked tenderly, leaning over, "Is everyone kind to you?"

For the younger of the brothers, his lie was a bit more obvious, but hesitantly he nodded. "Yup, everyone is... nice." The boy looked away.

His mother, though, did not seem to notice. "That's wonderful," she said brightly, continuing with her salad. "I'm glad my boys are happy at school."

At this, the girl looked about bewildered. Neither Auren nor Tyren would meet her confused stare. Finally, she stood, announcing, "Auren, can I talk to you? Alone?"

"No," the boy said brusquely, chewing at his food.

"Auren!" Dia reprimanded. "Go talk to your friend!"

Sighing, he stood, following the girl to the back room. She stood there with crossed arms, glaring at him.

"What?" he finally asked.

"Why doesn't your mom know about the bullying?" the girl demanded severely. When Auren only stared at the ground, she continued, "It's not just you; Tyren's getting hurt too..."

Auren sighed. "I know." After a minute he mumbled, "It's only been getting worse..."

"So why? Maybe she could help, or..."

"She couldn't," Auren snapped. "She'd only worry. I mean... Just look at her."

The boy cast a glance to the dining room. They could hear Dia lecturing Tyren about the ground rules should a knife be brought into the house. "Mom hasn't been quite right since Dad died. If she knew what we were going through at school... It might drive her completely insane."

The girl sagged. She knew it was true; Dia, though a kind, attentive mother, would only drive herself into madness with anxiety instead of doing something about the bullying. If anything... her actions might make it worse.

"I don't want to worry her any more than I have to," Auren said seriously. "Can you understand that?"

The girl nodded, so they returned to the kitchen together. But as she finished her meal, staring sadly down at her plate, she couldn't help but wonder... What if there was something she could do?

An idea came to her then. Though she didn't want to be rude, the girl could hardly wait for dinner to be finished. She scarfed down her food, a new energy filling her. She might not have to just watch her friends suffer!

Once the meal was over, as well as the it-was-nice-having-you-over pleasantries she'd always found hard to deal with, she practically burst out into the afternoon. Auren himself noticed her antsiness, and to his credit, he knew her well enough to know that she wasn't just eager to get out of there. Still, he couldn't figure out what had gotten into her.

The girl, though, smiled to herself as she pounded down the hill. It was time to visit some old friends... And she knew right where she could find them.

~~...~~

When she entered the shady courtyard, things were much different than they had been that summer day, so long ago. Now, it was much cooler, and the trees that lay near the wall had dropped all their leaves upon the stone. The city was a bit quieter as things began to settle down for winter.

She also recognized now the buildings this small plaza was sandwiched between. One was the orphanage–had she looked up, she may have seen a blue face peeking out of a window–and one was the school. Both wide, imposing buildings that shadowed the yard.

One thing was the same, though. In the middle of the square, unbothered by the other children who didn't dare enter the courtyard at this time of day, sat three cheetah boys.

This time, though, they were playing a card game, not beating up a kid. Seeing movement, they looked up, expecting either a little child they could pick on or an adult to run from–but instead, they saw a cheetah dressed in all black, with a sword belt across her chest.

They all recognized her immediately and scrambled to their feet. "What d'ya mean by coming here?!" the biggest of them asked, getting into fighting position. "We ain't done nothin'!"

The girl held a hand up, taking only slow steps forward. "I'm not here to beat you up again." To show her point, she took off the sword belt and put it on the ground.

Three pairs of eyes flicked to the sword, then to the girl standing over it. Truth be told, she had a decent chance winning a fight against the three scrawny kids even without her deadly weapon, but a big part of her leverage now sat harmless on the ground.

"May I sit?" she asked politely. At their faint nods, she did, and they as well.

"What d'ya want then?" the littlest of them piped up.

The girl closed her eyes. "Well, firstly, I want to apologize." She missed their bewildered looks as she gazed at the ground. "While there's no justification for what you did, I let my temper get the best of me. Hitting you was wrong, no matter what you were doing." She glanced at the third boy, an unusually quiet one who sat near the back.

The leader of the group shrugged. "Great. We're all best friends now. So what do you really want?"

The girl had to stop and gather her thoughts for this one. Finally, she took a deep breath. "I want you to stop bullying Auren and Tyren, the ice brothers. Ideally, anyone you may be unkind to–but especially them."

The big boy stalked over and got in her face. "Or what?" he asked darkly. "You tellin' us what to do?"

"No." The cheetah stepped back in surprise. "I came here today to confront you without violence–without threats. I'm asking you, and that's all."

They all stared at her. None of them were expecting this. They'd gotten kids swaggering up to them to try and threaten them, children throwing all sorts of insults and threats their way, little ones begging to be left alone–but this girl, who didn't even go to their school, sitting there calmly and asking?

"An' why in the heck should we do that?" the little boy asked, eyebrows shooting up.

The girl shrugged. "Don't you have anything better to do than pick on little kids?"

"It's fun," he answered with a toothy grin.

She thought about Addison, what he had said to her. Here were three children–kids who, most likely, were just victims of the war and what it had done to its people. And they took their anger out on others, like Addison had.

"There are better ways to express your anger," she said, almost smiling. "Maybe take it out on people who actually deserve it, like other bullies. Or I'm sure the guards could always use help."

The little one stared. "The guards?" he asked.

"Yeah. You'd get to beat up bad guys all the time, instead of other kids. Apes and robbers and stuff."

That was beginning to sound appealing to this child.

"And," the girl continued, thinking, "I'm sure none of you really care if it's 'wrong', but no one really likes a bully, y'know. You're always alone–only popular because people are scared of you. Think about how you would feel if people started beating you up for no reason."

"No one would ever dare pick on us," the big one boasted.

The girl tilted her head. "You think so? Since everybody is really afraid of you, they'll all look for a way to bring you down, especially the kids you've hurt. You think if you let anyone know about your weakness–because everyone has a weakness–they wouldn't use it against you?"

The boy looked unsure now. He himself had quite a few problems at home, and if anybody found out about that...

Wearily she continued, "Empathy isn't something I can just give you. But... maybe just try being nice for once. Instead of hitting kids, stand up for them. You never know."
Knowing that she was most likely talking to deaf ears, she stood. "Anyway," she said, grabbing her sword, "I had to give just asking a shot. So think about it. But I'm not going to threaten you even if you decide to keep hurting them. Whether or not you change... That's up to you."

As she turned to walk away, the quiet one finally spoke up. "Why do you care?"

The girl looked back and turned towards them. "When I was young, I was bullied too." She considered a moment, but realizing she had nothing to lose, said, "It's because my dad would get drunk and hit me and my sister."

She knew the flash in the boy's eyes meant she had hit the mark, so she continued, "For that–I was put through hell and back. Is that really fair? It wasn't my fault that he did that to me, but, there you are." Adults may be cruel, but children can be vicious, the girl thought.

"I'm asking you this because, well..." She shrugged. "I know I don't have the power to change people. But, I guess I was hoping that I could. I knew that beating you up wouldn't help this time... And maybe my words won't do much either."

She looked at them, examining the faces that were still distrustful, though no longer glowering with hatred and fear. "But anyway, I had to try."

Turning, the girl disappeared into the shadow of the alleyway. Behind her, she heard whispers that made her smile. "Guys, maybe we should knock it off..."

"Oh, don't be a li'l kitten, you scaredy-cat."

"It ain't their fault their dad offed 'imself, eh? Your dad went to war and died just to get away from your mom, you said, so ain't that the same thing?"

"Shut up!"

Well, the girl thought, taking a breath as she stepped out of the alley, it was over. She'd done all that she could do. Whether it would work or not... Well, there was no saying.

But she felt proud of herself. Instead of flying into a rage or letting her temper get to her... She had calmly talked to them, shown kindness and patience instead of anger. She knew they were just kids... But scary bullies they were, and she had stared them in the face like they were apes and made it out alive. Maybe even made a difference, however small, sown a bit of doubt into their minds.

And if she could stare down these bullies in this world, who was to say she couldn't do it to her own? To her father? To anyone in her world that dared try to pull her and Lily down?

As she tripped home, feeling light like she could fly, the world suddenly seemed a little brighter.

Chapter Text

The month wore quite pleasantly on, interspersed with the usual Meeting on the wall–now thoroughly lacking any malicious mischief–pleasant chats up in the tower with Addison, and regular visits to Auren's house.

The train incident, though a black spot on her mind and a sobering reminder to keep the girl on the straight-and-narrow, was quickly forgiven and forgotten by everyone involved. The misfits all knew, somehow, that that would be the last of their major mishaps. They'd gone out with a bang, to be sure, but things were slowing down now.

And, well, she hadn't thought about Tarrok in a long time. They'd passed each other on the street occasionally, exchanging glares. But Kerridan had stayed true to his word and kept the councilmember in line.

Life was good.

Though peaceful and without conflict, this was the best of the girl's time in Warfang. Days and nights of laughter and friendship filled her life. Things couldn't be better, and indeed, they never had been. She lived in daily bliss, the epitome of energy and life.

But this world is often unkind, it was not meant to remain so. Things were about to go very wrong, and those pleasant, happy days would begin to come to an end.

It was a lazy day for everyone at the Guardians' house. The usual coming and going of messengers and generals had stalled, and it was peaceful on the front, so the four dragons for once stood idle.

The girl had decided to remain indoors that day due to the growing cold, and she spent most of the afternoon curled up by the hearth. But little did she know that staying inside, under the protection of the Guardians, had saved her from quite the terrible fate.

They were all assembled in the living room, noses buried in their own respective books or papers, when they heard a rather sharp rap at the door that shattered the silence. The girl was so unaffected by this that she only reluctantly pulled up her hood, never breaking eye contact with her book.

It was Volteer who went to answer the door, and the other Guardians had only chance to hear a "What in the world is the meaning of this...?" before there was much stomping, and two guards rushed in. The serenity of the day was immediately destroyed, and the room was all of a sudden filled with confusion.

Unsurprisingly, it was Tarrok at the head of these soldiers, grinning like a madman as he pointed at the slowly rising girl. Without missing a beat, he cried out, "By my authority as councilmember, you're under arrest!"

Things were very quiet for a moment as everyone in the room gaped, and everything seemed to stand still. Cyril looked like he was one word away from popping right out of his scales.

Then, they all jumped as the girl began laughing. It was a short snicker at first, then a giggle, and then an absolute fit of hysteria. She laughed and laughed, nearly doubling over with glee, and everybody grew more and more concerned.

Finally, Tarrok, seething with rage and confusion, cried out, "What are you laughing about?!"

She was beginning to calm down, but at the enraged look on his face, she just barely caught herself from going into another fit again. Finally, she straightened, grinning. "Oh," she chuckled, "You just surprised me so!"

The cheetah was beginning to get very uncomfortable, so he pointed at her again, though his voice was weaker. "Guards, arrest her!"

The Guardians, realizing that their friend was apparently out of her mind today, knew they had to intervene. They stepped forward, blocking off the imposing guards, who to their credit were a bit confused as to why they were arresting some insane kid.

"You have no right," Terrador began harshly, "Kerridan would never allow you–"

"I don't need that bloody sympathizer's permission," Tarrok spat. "If I believe Warfang is in significant danger, I can act in its defense and forcibly detain and put to trial anyone I'd like!"

The Guardians faltered. It was true–a gross civil rights violation it may be, but during a war, it could be done.

"And I have all the proof I need now," the cheetah continued smugly, and turned to the girl. "You think I wouldn't find out about your stint in jail, the train?! I know everything," he boasted proudly, "And soon, the council will know too!"

The girl tilted her head, thinking. "You haven't told them yet?"

Tarrok shook his head sharply. "And maybe I won't–if you are a real cheetah, after all, take off your hood now and I might not arrest you!"

This was not an option... But if she got anywhere near Tarrok, she knew that he would tear it off himself. Had judgment day come already? Was it time to see how Warfang would feel with a human in its midst?

The girl stilled. No... It wouldn't go over well. She bore too many similarities to an ape, just too many. The Guardians may have been rational enough to see that she was no Dark Army slave... But with Tarrok's insane speculation about her status as a spy, who was to say anyone else would be?

She needed a way out of this situation, and fast. Even if the Guardians managed to talk down or push out these guards and Tarrok... he would only come back with more, and tell the council the truth besides. And no matter what happened, her friends would have to bear the blame for what she had done, what she was.

Maybe she could run. Make it out the walls and hide in the forest until things cooled down. Perhaps she had overstayed her welcome. Perhaps... it was time to say goodbye.

But before she could ponder that sad thought anymore, an idea entered her mind... A risky plan, but one that might just get her and the Guardians out of this situation scot-free.

"So, what's it going to be?" Tarrok demanded, eyes flashing like hot steel. "Take off your disguise now, and things will be much easier for you! Take it off!"

Here was her opportunity.

The girl stood up very straight for a moment, then faltered, stumbling back and clutching her head. Once she had everyone's concerned attention with her odd behaviour, she said dazedly, "Oh... I'm sorry, I was just... I was just lost in my memories.

"This happens sometimes," she continued in a dramatic voice. "I just feel... So overwhelmed by my past, that I feel like I'm being dragged right into it."

Realizing that every pair of eyes was on her, the girl squirmed uncomfortably, but then continued fretfully, "I remember when the apes came to my village so vividly that I'll wake from nightmares and feel like I was really there for a moment."

She sniffled, then sniffed again loudly, and to her delight her eyes began to well up with tears. "It wasn't so bad at first, you see," she explained, daring a glance upwards. Tarrok looked thoroughly unamused, but the guards were entranced. "It's not like they just came in swords swinging or anything. No, it was... It was so calm.

"They were banging on doors, kicking over pots to wake people up. When they stepped outside, they grabbed them... And if someone wouldn't listen, they'd run them through right there in the doorway. Everyone was too scared to do anything." She leaned over so that her tears would drip to the ground. "My friend Emilia, you know, she wasn't always very smart, and they..."

Gulping, the girl continued soberly, "They started lining us up, by species. The dragons, they killed them first. Kids too, all of them. Then they started lighting fires, 'til the whole village was burning.

"My mama, she turned to me and told me to go stand with the moles. I was wearing this robe, and small enough to pass as one. So I did, and then they came up to the cheetahs and they... My mama, my sister..."

Tarrok sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. "Child, you can spin a tale like I can't believe, but you are wasting everyone's time. I demand you pull that hood down immediately!"

The girl, though, seemingly didn't hear him, and in fact was plunged deeper into her 'memories'. "They came up to me," she sobbed out. "And they saw my robes, an' they started screaming..."

Her voice was rising now, hitting a high, panicked pitch that made everyone cringe. "'Take off your hood, take it off, take it off now!'"

The two guards leaned forward unconsciously, completely enamoured by her tale, and even the Guardians half-believed her vivacious storytelling.

She talked faster and faster, until the words were a jumble. "I couldn't even move, and they–the fire–they lit me on fire, and everyone was dead–and–and...!"

And with this screech, the girl slumped to the floor, bumping her head on the table before anyone could catch her. Fainted dead away!–or so Tarrok and his cronies would believe!

Of course, the snide cheetah was not convinced for a second by this act, and would have felt no empathy had he been. He opened his mouth to protest, but at once shut it and took a good look around the room.

The Guardians who were not helping the trickstress to her feet were glaring at him, fully prepared to go to every extent to protect her. The two guards he'd picked off the street were gazing entranced, full-heartedly believing this tragic tale. Trying to sway them would be more difficult than was reasonable.

So, with a defeated huff, Tarrok turned on his heel. "I'll be back," he hissed over his shoulder. The girl, still half-slumped on the ground, looked at him in worry. "And this time, no grand lie will get you out of it!"

The door slammed, rattling the whole house. Everyone jumped, then relaxed now that the weighted presence of the angry cheetah was gone. The guards murmured quick apologies and scampered out, shutting the door more gently behind them.

It was very quiet for a long time. The Guardians all stood in their places, frozen like statues or scene pieces in a play. But finally, they composed themselves and sat.

"You may," Ignitus finally said, "have gone a bit overboard."

The girl looked surprised a moment–now in the silence of the house, she could hardly believe the last five minutes had happened. Then she smiled wryly. "I think I just saved all of your hides. You should be applauding me for that performance."

Soon, though, her expression melted into one of concern. "Should I be running or something...?" They all looked at her. "I could go hide in the forest for a while... At least until things calm down."

"And have you fall into a ravine again?" Cyril smiled, though there was worry behind his eyes as well.

Terrador continued, "It isn't time to run yet, young one. Let us be patient and see what happens next."

So the girl sat down on a cushion, waiting, as if perhaps Tarrok might burst through the door again. Finally, Volteer cast a wary glance out the window to the quiet street outside. "I don't believe he will be back."

The electric Guardian was right, as it turned out. Though they sat together in the living room until well after daylight, the child preparing to bolt out the back door at the first knock, everything was quiet. It was almost eerie how silent and undisturbed the outside was. Even the normal distant city sounds were hushed.

When all the lights outside had gone off and the city lapsed into quiet, they all went reluctantly to bed without even a good-night. The girl made sure she could open her window–perhaps, with skill, she could even leap from the tree to the wall and down into a patch of tall grass–and, not even changing out of her dayclothes, finally lay down.

She tossed and turned for quite a while, as did everyone else. Her ears strained for the slightest of sounds. But eventually, as the night began to wane, her eyes remained closed and she began to drift off into sleep.

The girl nearly flew out of bed when three sharp knocks came at the door.

She cowered under the covers, dread wrapping around her like a snake. She would have imagined that she'd have been halfway to the hole in the wall by now, but terror and... well, curiosity, kept her rooted in place.

Mostly, she just hoped that it had been her imagination.

The Guardians stirred, and the knocks came again, more insistent and forceful this time. Finally, someone got out of bed. She listened to heavy footsteps go down the stairs and open the door, and recognized Ignitus' soft voice, along with someone else's.

The other Guardians awoke and went down to listen in. The girl waited, one shaky hand on her sword, for the shouting, the pounding as guards rushed up the stairs. But it never came.

Finally, the front door shut with a click. The girl finally got out of bed and stepped into the hallway. She could hear the dragons talking below her, but no other, harsh voices reached her ears. Hesitantly, the child tip-toed over to the railing and peeked down. No one unfamiliar was there, so her feet pattered down the stairs.

The Guardians all looked up at her entrance. There was something in their eyes, something she couldn't recognize.

No one said anything for a long time. The girl wanted to scream, just to make a sound. But after an endless, terrifying moment, Ignitus spoke.

"Tarrok," he said, "has been dismissed from the council."

Her heart seemed to jump into her throat. Cautiously, she descended the last stair, stepping carefully into the living room. She opened her mouth, but words wouldn't come out.

"Reportedly," Ignitus continued coolly, "he returned to the council to call another emergency meeting. There, he relayed several 'ridiculous lies' about you." The Guardian shot her a look at this statement. "The council voted unanimously to have him dismissed."

She waited a moment, trying to form the words. "What did he do?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Ignitus closed his eyes. "He left Warfang. Ran off into the woods without stopping. No one has seen him since."

The girl swallowed. Feeling overwhelmed, she sat down on the stairs, taking deep breaths to calm her pounding heart.

She should have been happy. That was it... That was the end of Tarrok. He had no authority to bother her anymore, and she would never see him again. The girl could go on with her life here unhindered. The antagonist had been defeated; she was a hero, and here was her happy ending.

So why... Why was she only filled with dread?

Chapter Text

Morning can be a beautiful, darling thing. The wonderful thing about mornings is that they can often mute a previous night's tragedy; waking up in a warm bed, with birds twittering outside and sunlight dancing in through the window, does wonders to ease the mind of burden.

The girl had many mornings before anything horrible happened again, so she began to settle into a state of ease. She didn't venture out of the house, but if she did, she knew that Tarrok would no longer be waiting for her.

That awful night began to wane from memory.

This particular morning, the girl was in the kitchen preparing tea. She'd long learned how to work the old-fashioned stove, and indeed wasn't sure if she could even heat water on a normal one anymore. Through the tall window at the long end of the kitchen, the light was growing and struggling to get inside.

Terrador entered the kitchen then, and the girl made way for him, scooting over to get some teacups from the cupboard. She smiled to herself as she remembered how, once, she had scampered away at the sight of him, terrified of the massive dragon.

Finally the water had finished boiling, and she went to pour it in. However, the moderately strong girl was having some difficulty even raising the teapot off the stove. After a lot of struggle she went to find a cloth and lift it from the bottom.

Terrador had been watching this spectacle, and he gazed on silently as even with the extra leverage, the boiling water still splashed out of the cup thanks to her unsteadiness.

"Your hands are shaking," the dragon said.

She blinked and looked. The teapot was noticeably quivering as her arms struggled with the exertion. The girl set it down and the shaking returned to a small twitching.

"I'm fine," she said. "Probably just tired." She was tired; she had not slept very well these past few nights.

Though as she went to pick up the cups, her hands began violently shaking again, and she had to quickly set them down before she burned herself. "I'd better get a tray," she mumbled. Soon, she scurried out of the kitchen with the cups clattering audibly on the platter.

On the eastern side of the house, in the library, the daybreak's sunlight was sparkling in prettily and making the room look quite comfortable. Volteer was here, hunched over some massive, ancient book, though he looked up with a smile upon her entrance. Unlike Ignitus, who was usually lost in thought, the electric dragon was aware of everything that happened.

"Good morning, young one," he greeted. The girl steeled herself for the spiel that would follow. "I've actually been researching something that might interest you; that is because, well, it actually does interest you, in the sense of the word meaning that it concerns you, has to do with you, etc, and this certainly is not like the last time, I'm sure I bored you half to death with talk of quantum theory and thermodynamic law..."

By the time he finished, her cup was half-empty. "It was... interesting," she said carefully.

She'd liked physics class, and probably had had a good shot at becoming a marine biologist, but that was way out of the league of her small-town high school chemistry course. (Plus, his information was probably 1000 years out of date.)

Remembering the first part of his long ramble, she continued, "What have you been researching?"

"Well," Volteer said, speaking simply for once, "I've been trying to find a way to get you home. Not that I'm trying to rush you out the door sooner," he said quickly, laughing. "You certainly make great company, young one."

The girl tilted her head. Home. She hadn't thought of that in a long time. A weird feeling filled her, one she couldn't describe. Something bittersweet and hollow.

The Guardian continued, "Of course, you are the first of your kind, so I have very little information to work with." He laughed. "It might be possible to bring you home using a portal–but even our best mages have difficulty constructing stable portals just across short distances. Taking you to another dimension, or another planet..."

His countenance suddenly turned downcast, and she looked away. The future looked bleak for her chances of leaving this world.

"I got here by..." The girl glanced towards the door and lowered her voice. "By dying. Or at least, I was in a coma. So that might be one way I could get back. But..." She smiled. "I guess throwing myself off a cliff wouldn't be the best way to find out."

His smile was grim. "Please do not." The electric dragon pondered for a bit. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to continue studying portals and magic..."

"There might be something else." The girl hesitated; there was no saying if he could help her, or, even if he could, if he'd want to. But she had to bring it up, at least. "If anyone knows how to get me home, it's the Chronicler."

Volteer tilted his head, thinking, and she said quickly, "But I mean, if he could do anything for me, he would be giving me visions like he did to Spyro, right?"

"There's no telling." The old dragon shrugged. "Nothing like that has ever happened to any other creature except Spyro. Perhaps he can only reach out to exceptionally magical beings, or perhaps he never had any reason to do otherwise."

His eyes examined her a moment. "Perhaps he can't. There is a distinct lack of magic about you. Like a..." Volteer paused. "A void."

The girl blinked. "Everyone else gives off an aura. Even moles and cheetahs." In Serena, it was a spark that could be felt just a few feet away. Dimmer in Cedric, but still, when she'd hugged him it had been there. She could tell when Auren was at the wall just by stepping outside.

"Yes, most of us don't notice that by now. I'm sure it was quite the 'shock' when you first arrived here." He smiled and she stared. Had he just made a pun?

"But you... You don't seem to have any magic at all. And the magic in this world runs deep, to its very core. You have no connection, no tether... It's possible that the Chronicler could not contact you even if he wanted to."

She closed her eyes. Even though she had become a part of this world... Taken up its cause, grown to love its places and people... Still, she would never truly belong.

"But getting to the Chronicler would require knowing where he is," Volteer continued.

Right. He hadn't been there when Spyro found the map. "He lives at the White Isle."

"The White Isle?" Volteer furrowed his brow. "I've never heard of such a place."

He went and got down a map for her to point to it. She examined the large piece of parchment, most of it mapping the mainland. "This is the Temple, and this is the poisoned swamp?" Volteer nodded.

The girl squinted. "Dog pirates picked Spyro up and help him captive for... a few days to a week. That would have happened around here." She pointed to a part of the swamp that had a sketchy drawing of a tree around it. "Apes destroyed the fleet. There was nothing around him but ocean by the time he escaped. I have no idea what direction they went from there."

"A dog pirate airship, in, let's say five days..." Volteer sighed. "They could have gone anywhere in the known world and beyond."

An idea struck her, and she sat up quickly. "Unless they had a specific destination." She pointed at the Well of Souls. "They had Cynder. They certainly would have been trying to get a bounty."

"So they would have been going in this direction," Volteer said thoughtfully, following her finger as it traced a path.

"...And the only place nowhere near any sort of island is... Here!" The girl's jubilant smile faded as she examined the map. "But Spyro only flew until the evening. He couldn't have gone far, but... There's no islands anywhere around here."

She even got out a magnifying glass for good measure, but it was nothing but solid blue.

The electric Guardian was thinking as she sat, defeated. "You say a leviathan picked him up? Those are known to roam around Dante's Freezer."

She looked. It was true; Spyro had taken a similar path to Dante's Freezer, though the island was a much closer flight and more curving down towards what she assumed was the south pole. No wonder Warfang was so cold, though that didn't explain the scorching summers...

So, taking out a pencil, she circled a wide area of open ocean. "The White Isle is somewhere here."

Volteer stared and his expression faded. "But that is a radius of hundreds of miles wide. Travelling there, with pirates still about, ape fleets, and nowhere to rest or land... It would be extremely dangerous."

The girl nodded. "I think it was shrouded in mist too. It could be impossible to find, unless we knew exactly where it was."

The Guardian considered for a bit. Finally he said, "I will continue my research, but I suppose now I shall turn my efforts towards trying to find a map with the White Isle on it."

She sighed. "I guess I'll help when I can. Or try to think of more ways I could get home."

The forbidden thought entered her mind then, snaking in enticingly: What if I don't want to go home?

She considered this, but only for a moment. There were the Guardians, and the misfits, and Addison... The friends she had never had in the human world. There was a cause she finally felt motivated to believe in, a war that she might be able to help with... Even if it was just a single battle, even if just defending Warfang, her true home...

She was finally happy. For the first time, she was happy. How could she leave that all behind?

But Lily... Lily had none of those things. And if she didn't come back, she might never even have the chance.

Memories are powerful, she thought. If she could remember this place, and live to tell the stories... Maybe she could give some of that strength to Lily, too. And together, with those memories of happiness, they could make a better life for themselves.

So, if at all possible... She had to take the chance to go home.

Still. It would be a while before she'd have to make that choice. Right now, it wasn't even a possibility. This was now, and there would be time for all that later.

As she sat there pondering, the last wisps of steam fading from her abandoned tea, a wave of nausea suddenly flooded over the girl. The nausea was soon accompanied by a steadily growing migraine, and intense aching soon spreading throughout her body and making her squirm. She hadn't been feeling very well before, but actual pain hadn't been in the question. She stood slowly; now even her unburdened hands were shaking.

"I think..." she mumbled, slamming the chair into another table with her sudden clumsiness, "I think I need to go lay down."

Volteer rose. "Are you alright...?"

"Yes," she said quickly, voice clear and sharp, though she soon faded into haziness again. "I'm fine."

She headed for the exit, staggering and struggling to keep herself on two feet. For every step she took, she further descended into the cloudiness enveloping her mind. What was happening to her...?

The arched doorway seemed a thousand miles away, but finally, she managed to reach it. The girl stopped there, panting and staring wearily at the tall curved stairway. Perhaps she would just collapse on the couch; she didn't know if she could survive the journey up those steps.

But as she stood there, feeling like she couldn't bear to take another step, the child weakened and her grip on the wall slipped. For a moment, everything seemed to be getting darker, fading to night. She was unaware of Volteer rushing out of his chair to catch her, only of her own consciousness fading, falling, as she sank into the darkness of the abyss.

She awoke to voices, blobs that spun about her head while rising and falling sharply in pitch. It certainly didn't sound like English, whatever it was. The voices were familiar, but mangled.

The girl opened her eyes, though even that was a feat. She couldn't move her body at all. Trapped inside it, looking out from within.

Her half-closed eyes moved about, and she saw that she was on the couch. Afternoon light streamed in from the glass door, and though she could hear the Guardians talking in those awful voices, they were out of sight.

At least she didn't hurt anymore. No more stomach pain or headache. She was just too weak to move.

And that was all the information she could absorb before sleep called her back, wrapping its arms around her and pulling her away.

But before she could disappear completely, the girl tried to speak. "Auren," she mumbled. "Gotta tell Auren... He'll worry..." It was just a whisper, a rasp, and she couldn't be sure if she had even spoken at all. But it was all she could do, and so she slept.

She woke up again seemingly moments later. It was still afternoon, but she had been moved to her bed upstairs. This time, she was able to twitch her fingers, though even that small exertion left her weak.

"We have to call a doctor. She hasn't woken up for nearly a week. She could be in a coma for all we know."

Nearly a week? she wondered. No, it's only the same day, I was just asleep for a minute...

"Are you insane? They'll tell the whole bloody city!"

"She will die. I will not stand idly by and lose another child–"

Her voice was barely a murmur, and she wasn't even sure what word she was trying to make. But they heard it, and soon they were all there, four dragons staring down at her. It seemed suddenly crowded in her little white room.

"The child finally awakens," Cyril said, but his normal sarcastic dryness was gone. Now there was only worry.

The girl stared blankly at him. I'm not a child, she thought, but her mouth said, "Water."

So they helped her sit up. Ignitus dipped a ladle into a bucket of water. She wanted to take it but her arms wouldn't move, so she allowed him to do it.

Six impossible things, she thought as she drank, her mind so hazy she could barely remember the words.

I learned to fight with a sword. I sailed through an ape fleet. I fought and killed an ape. I fell down a ravine and survived. I stole a train, twice.

And after all that... I died of sickness in the Dragon Realms.

After drinking practically the whole bucket, the girl was finally satisfied and lay back down, slipping into dreams immediately. But before she faded into the abyss again, she heard Ignitus' voice, farther away now. "There is one person who can treat her. I believe he owes us all a favour..."

"You are not going to like this, Zara."

The girl stirred from where she lay on her side, face in the pillow and covers over her head. A big, rumbling laugh floated through the doorway. "I'm sure I've seen patients much worse off than her, Ignitus."

"It's not her illness that is the issue."

That laugh again. It seemed to shake the whole room. "Well, let's see, then."

She heard him walking over to the side of the bed; for his giant laugh, he was very light on his feet. But no sooner had he pulled the covers back than the smile slipped off his face.

Wearily, the girl opened her eyes and looked up at him. Through her blurry vision, she could see deep blue scales and a deeper green chestplate. She was at the ocean again, peering into its depths. But what really drew her attention were the eyes that were nearly as black and endless as her own. Like calm pools of deep water.

But those eyes were now widened in confusion and perhaps even fear. He took a step back, towards the Guardians who stared in detached interest at his reaction.

"What is she?" Zara asked, still staring down at her, examining her odd face.

To everyone's surprise, the girl herself answered. "'m a human," she mumbled. Her slight drawl, usually barely noticeable in her speech, now thickened her voice like syrup. "Real sorry to have startled you..."

Zara came over when she tried weakly to sit up. "Lay back down, now," he said anxiously. She did, and the water dragon turned and stepped into the hallway.

She didn't sleep, though; not this time. The girl listened to their hushed argument.

"I know we have not explored all of the world yet," Zara was saying. "But that is not..."

"She," Cyril snapped coldly. "She's not a bloody chair."

The girl remembered the time he had called her "that thing", and she almost smiled.

"She is not natural. She bears slight resemblance to an ape, but..."

Ignitus spoke up. "She is as she said, a human. And she does not come from this world, that much I'm sure you can figure out. All that matters is that she is sick, and we have called you to help her as best you can."

The silence was long before Zara spoke again. "I have to tell the council."

"No!" Everyone jumped at the normally soft-spoken Ignitus' shout. "You yourself pointed out that she looked an ape–so what do you think they will do to her? They'll have her executed!"

The words sent a chill down her spine.

"And if you do not help her," the Guardian continued wearily, "She will not even make it that far."

It was very quiet for a long time, but finally, Zara said, "I will help her–and I will consider not telling the council. But they deserve to know..."

"What they do not know," said Terrador dryly, "Will not harm them."

When Zara came back, the girl was sitting up against doctor's orders, examining him with distrustful eyes. He didn't seem like a bad guy, but threatening to tell the council reminded her of Tarrok... And treating her like an ape besides! She may have been on death's door, but she rather took offense.

The doctor sighed and, trying not to stare, sat down beside her. "Can you describe your symptoms, child?"

The girl rubbed her eyes. "I felt alright the whole day. But suddenly, I got real weak and fainted. My whole body was hurting and I had a headache... When I woke up, it stopped hurting, but I couldn't even move. Sometimes I get really hot or cold..."

It was the most she'd talked since she collapsed, and she had to take a breath.

"Sounds like sleeping sickness," the doctor mumbled to himself. "But that's little more than a cold in dragons... I've never seen symptoms so severe."

The girl perked up. "We learned in..." she lowered her voice, "In my world... Illness can jump from other creatures. Since you don't have any immunities, it'll kill you. The virus doesn't know that it's in a different host and its symptoms affect you more than a creature who's used to it."

Now, Zara was staring. "I believe you should be a doctor, child. Your knowledge far eclipses that of my own."

The girl smiled slightly. But her spell of strength faded, and she found herself slumping again. The water dragon came over, taking a tonic from his bag. "Drink this, for now," he said gently, bringing the bottle to her lips. "It will help you recover."

The girl closed her eyes. The liquid was cool and slightly bitter, but she didn't mind. Tentatively, she reached her arm out. "I'm glad you're helping me..." she mumbled tiredly. "Even if you tell the council... It's real kind of you..."

Zara stared down at her. Dammit, he thought as his gaze softened. He wanted to be detached for Warfang and the council's sake, but a sick child in need was his worst weakness. His only flaw as a doctor was that he got too attached to the children he couldn't save.

For the first time, the dragon smiled. As she began to drift away, she felt his scaly paw clasp her hand.

"Child, I promise that I will do everything in my power to save you."

With Zara's skills and the Guardians' visits to boost her morale, the girl's strength began to return. It was in little bits, but still progress. First, she could sit up without help. Then, she could read a little bit every day without getting a migraine. And then, she wasn't sleeping for days on end anymore.

She felt like a baby, learning how to do everything over again. But it couldn't be helped; it was only thanks to Zara that she had survived. According to the Guardians, she had slept for days, and was absolutely delirious whenever she did wake up. In a state like that... She wouldn't have lived long.

Finally, the girl was able to walk again. It left her quickly staggering back to bed, and the stairs were much too daring an endeavour. But at least she could take a bloody bath and get into a change of clothes.

Within the week, the doctor promised earnestly, she'd be clear of toxin and back to normal again.

The water dragon had been very kind to her. He'd never lied about her grim prognosis, but when she was awake, he'd done his best to be careful and reassuring, giving her a sharp-toothed smile or a big laugh to cheer her up. Whenever she woke up, the doctor was by her side.

Zara had even begun to stay in another room, just so he could be there in case of an emergency at night. He'd returned to his own residence now that she was up and about again, but it was a sincerity that had blown her away.

The girl didn't think he was going to tell the council of her true nature, and she was glad for that much at least. He had been a friend, and she could never repay him.

Today, Zara had yet to stop by. It was very early morning, and the still-weak girl just needed to grab some more covers. Another cold flash had hit her and drawn her from sleep, and it left her shivering in bed with her bandanna and hood pulled up over her face.

She was feeling rather weak and tired again–certainly not as bad as it had been, and probably just another brief relapse. The girl closed her eyes, preparing to sleep the day away once more.

Minutes later, a loud thump drew her from her drowsy peace. She opened her eyes, staring at the window and stopping to blink a few times. It seemed to be magically opening itself; first one pane, then the other slid open.

Her eyes threatened to close again, and she had to fight with her mind to keep from slipping into unconsciousness. The girl stared hard at the window, making to sit up and go close it, but too exhausted to move.

No... It wasn't magic. Because, within her blurry, fading vision, she could see another thing. Through the window something black was crawling, slithering in. A snake, a monster, and a smile of sharp teeth evil enough to shake a demon. Beneath the black was gold, with eyes wrathful like green cinders, boring holes into her. The abyss was real, and it was coming for her.

I forgot to lock the window, was her thought then. She felt so strangely calm. I'd been keeping it locked, like Kerridan said. But that night when Tarrok came, I unlocked it.

Then, her second thought: Volteer comes with tea every morning. Zara will be here soon. Someone will check on me now.

And that was all she had time to think before the abyss was upon her.

This time, she didn't slip away for what seemed like just a few moments. Time passed in her dreams, spinning out of control all around her. Like a train flying away, sailing through the air, but never falling, never crashing.

Like always, she saw her sister. When she reached out towards the little girl, she shattered like glass, the pieces sparkling as they fell down into the dark. In their reflection she saw someone new, innocent lavender eyes peering out at her.

Then there was something she did not expect to see. For the first time, in her dreams she caught a glimpse of not a person from the past, but the present. She dreamed of Auren.

He wasn't solid, but wispy, like a winter chill flying all about. They were in the train again, but no one was at the controls. It was flying along at maximum speed and nobody seemed to know how to stop it. Auren froze her in place, rooting them to the ground, so they couldn't escape. Couldn't even slow it down.

So together, they stared at the scenery fly by. "Auren," she finally said. "Let's get out of here."

Then the train crashed.

And as she rose from the carnage, the girl saw that she was alone.

It was the crunching that drew her out of her dreams, the steady footsteps grinding against her ears. She opened her eyes and saw white, sparkling and dancing as far as her bleary vision could see. The first snowfall of winter.

She'd been expecting it with all the cold snaps they'd had recently. It had been snowing the day she died, but it was a thin, pasty sheet, barely enough to even leave footsteps in. She had looked forward to it, despite the grim anniversary it signalled.

The human blinked, coming back into herself. The world was moving away from her, and though her hood was still up, she was in a rather odd position. Someone was carrying her? What was the meaning of this?

Then, stiffening, she remembered. The sharp-toothed grin, the monster dressed in black. At once she began kicking and pounding the back of her assailant with all her strength–which, in her sickly state, was not much.

But no sooner had she delivered a punch, with a cry of "Let me go!" for good measure, than she found herself deposited on the ground. The girl didn't wait to see the face of whoever had been carrying her. Scampering to her feet, she immediately shot off into the forest.

She hadn't run more than ten feet before she found herself on the ground choking and screaming, clasping wildly at her neck. Her body was on fire. It felt like she'd just been struck by lighnting, leaving her twitching limply in the thick snow. The shocks kept coming, but fading in power with each dose of electricity that surged through her body.

"That would be my latest invention. It may surprise you to know I have a bit of an interest in engineering." The voice behind her drew closer until it was standing over her. "I found a prototype in some old ape ruins. Seems they were trying to develop something that would keep prisoners at bay."

When the crackling pain had faded, the girl managed to roll herself over. There he was, his cat-like green eyes staring dismissively down at her. "Tarrok?" she whispered, wondering if she was still dreaming.

"Get up," was her short answer.

The girl stared blankly up at him, and finally, the cheetah sighed. He grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet. "Do not test my patience, child."

Staring, the teenager clasped her hand to her neck again, feeling the smooth contraption there. Looking down, she could see an aquamarine necklace made of solid crystal, a black-purple gem embedded into it. "What is this thing?"

Tarrok turned, his robes flying out. "Walk. If you know what's good for you, stay within twenty feet of me."

Still half-asleep and fully in disbelief, the girl followed his command. As she shivered, the cold piercing her worn-out sneakers, the ex-councilman explained in a flat tone, "There are two parts to this invention. The first is the host necklace."

He turned and tapped the identical necklace laying over his fine robes, though his was solid green. "The one you are wearing is the parasite necklace. A fitting name for you. It delivers a series of hearty electric shocks when the host is too far away. The magic of dark spirit gems enables this. Spirit gems, as you may know, are magically neutral. As are their evil-infused counterpart."

The girl gawked at him. But finally, the realization came to her. "Are you... kidnapping me?!"

To her shock and anger, the serious cheetah actually snickered. "It took you that long to figure it out?" When she said nothing, he continued, "You are a threat to Warfang's stability. The council would not listen, so I took matters into my own hands."

She was not entirely sure what that entailed. The teenager looked about, but it seemed there was no way out. Her sword was nowhere in sight, and in her state, she'd never win a fight against Tarrok. Running was not an option. She had no choice but to cooperate.

Or try to talk him down.

And so they walked on for a while, through fields covered in fresh snow and forests with midday lights sparkling through the leaves. The girl tried to distract herself from the fact that she was being kidnapped by meditating on the scenery. It didn't seem real.

Trying to get something out of him, she asked after a while, "Where are we going?"

"No more questions," Tarrok said sharply from in front of her. "Prisoners do not have rights."

The girl smiled slightly. "What if the prisoner says please?"

The cheetah blinked and looked back, squinting at her humour. But he turned away again, and resigned, "I do not know."

Suddenly, the child realized that she was wandering away from home with a madman who didn't even know what he was doing. But she bit her tongue. If talking him down was her only option... She couldn't be rude or sharp. As much as she wanted to put the foolish cheetah in his place, it was in her best interests not to say anything.

The girl felt oddly calm. Most people in her position would be terrified... But perhaps the familiar face, though one looking snidely down at her, was somehow reassuring. Tarrok was insane, and a stalker, and a kidnapper... But was he violent?

He could have smothered her. He could have taken her sword and plunged it through her heart. He could kill her right now, far from Warfang where her body would never be found–but he didn't. Tarrok could have easily murdered her and slipped back into the forest... But he didn't.

That had to count for something, right?

Even so... She had no idea where he was taking her, what he had planned for her–if even he had a plan at all. Every step brought her further from Warfang, into the endless forest which only got thicker and more covered in foliage as she walked on.

Sure, little Sjilda had made it out... But Sjilda was a character in a book. When a character in a book uses their wits to get past some situation pre-made by the author, the pieces artificially falling into place, it meant nothing. This was real.

She glanced up at the sky. Luckily in this world, the sun still travelled east to west. They were in Warfang South, on the far end, and the morning sun came in through her window on the east wing... Now, it was midday, but the sun was coming from the left still. That meant that they were walking south, probably a straight shot from the city.

Okay, so getting back might not be an issue even without a compass... But still, there was the fact that she had no way away from him. The girl tugged at the necklace when Tarrok wasn't looking, but it was wrapped tight around her neck and wouldn't snap. There seemed to be a keyhole in the dark crystal.

She remembered grimly then the gravity of the situation. Tarrok may not kill her unprovoked–but she saw that knife strapped to his side. If she attacked him, he may not be so merciful.

If she could get the knife away from him... Or find the key in his pack... Or, if all else failed, talk him or trick him into letting her go... So many choices! And all of them looked so unlikely from her position!

He had to sleep, right...?

An hour or perhaps two passed. Tarrok didn't speak, and the girl didn't wish to annoy him. This was a relief to the kidnapper, because to be entirely honest, he hadn't planned this through, and he didn't know what speaking to a person you'd kidnapped was supposed to be like.

Instead, the girl paid careful attention to the scenery and kept an eye out for landmarks, of which there weren't many. There wasn't even a road; they'd just tramped off into the wilderness. But as she stared at the sky, trying to figure out directions and whatnot, she noticed something.

The area had been getting rather hazy as time passed. It hadn't snowed since she woke up, though the sky was overcast with thick clouds threatening to break at any moment. But as Tarrok and the girl crested a hill, they saw in the distance what was best described as a wall... A wall of frightening-looking grey clouds, and it was approaching fast.

Both of their eyes widened. Even the normally-calm girl began to panic, but Tarrok, always cool and confident, looked about slowly. Finally, he spotted a cave in the distance. He grabbed the girl's hand, taking her rather off-guard, and pulled her along. "Run!"

She did, though she quickly snapped her arm away.

No sooner had the two ducked into the cave than the blizzard was upon them, a whirling monstrosity that deafened the pair and left them scrambling for the back. Within minutes, though it seemed like just moments, the squat entrance was all but blocked out by a wall of snow.

That's when Tarrok unfroze from the trance they were both in. "We need to build a fire before..." And no sooner had he said that than the last of the light ran out.

They were in pitch black for only a moment. The cheetah struck a match by breaking its tip and set it on the ground. Luckily he'd had the foresight to pick up some thin firewood, and the sticks laying about supplemented it, but Tarrok seemed to be having an issue lighting the fire.

The girl was sitting in the corner staring at him. After the fourth "Dammit!" she sighed and stood, striding over and hunching down. "Let me."

Reluctantly, Tarrok handed over the sticks, holding up the match. Within a minute, they had a fire.

She sat down, relishing in the warmth under her hood, but Tarrok remained standing and staring at her. "Now," he said dourly, "You have no one here to defend you. Perhaps I can learn of your true nature."

She widened her eyes, then glared at him, raising her arm in defense. "Don't touch me," she growled.

Tarrok tilted his head. "Does it matter anymore? You're never going to see Warfang again–so allow me to sate my own curiosity, at least."

The words sent a defiant stab through her heart. "And if I am a cheetah?"

"Then, I suppose," said Tarrok, "I've made a mistake."

So she let him. He walked over, crouched down next to her, and pulled the hood and bandanna down. She felt like a villain in a cartoon, revealed at last. Now in the light, her eyes were like hot coals, staring him down.

The ex-councilmember examined her face a few moments, eyes glittering in the firelight. He couldn't keep her fiery gaze, so he looked away, but he was smiling. He stood again, shaking his head. "I knew it."

He turned away, going to sit across from her. Behind the flames his eyes were filled with something almost like sadness. "I will be honest with you–there was just the tiniest inkling of doubt. But I see now..."

"And what do you see?" the girl asked wearily. "So I'm not a cheetah. What does that prove?"

Tarrok stared at her. "You're an ape spy, like I said, of course." But even as he spoke, there was uncertainty in his voice.

The girl shook her head. "I'm not an ape. And even if I was... The only time I've ever even seen any of the Dark Army is when I killed one of their soldiers." She glared at him. "I'm not some spy. I'm just a kid."

He looked at her, gaze piercing. "Why lie?"

"Even pretending to be a cheetah, a lie most people accepted, I still got harassment–from you." The girl stared at him, eyes pleading. "What do you think would happen to me if I showed my real face? What would happen to the Guardians?"

Tarrok's gaze had hardened again, so she said quickly, "I know you don't trust them as political figures–but despite that, they're my family, and I have to protect them. Can't you understand that?"

She could see she was getting to him from the slightest softening of expression. But soon enough, the veil came down again. "I've never had a family. Not for long, anyway," he said brusquely, looking away.

The girl looked at him. For the first time, a bit of pity surfaced inside her. Finally, she said softly, "Neither have I."

Tarrok looked back at her in surprise as she explained, "Before I came to this–to Warfang, the only thing I had was my sister. I hated that world." She bristled at the memory. "I don't think I entirely understood what love was. I never felt anything but hatred."

She closed her eyes. "But I found people that I loved–friends, family who really cared about me. I love Warfang. I love this world, and I'd never do anything to harm it. Can't you see that?"

Tarrok, for once, listened to her story without interrupting. When it was done, he looked away. "It would seem we are more similar than I'd believed. With one difference." He turned to her. If her eyes were hot flaming coals, then his were all the rage of the stormy seas. "Warfang is all that I've ever loved. And I will stop at nothing to protect it."

The girl looked sadly at him. There was something bitter about that confession.

"You," Tarrok continued, "You were a threat to Warfang. And so I removed you. Even if I never see that city again for my crimes..." He turned around, his back to the fire. "Then that is the price I must pay to keep it safe."

She closed her eyes. "But I never meant to..." she said softly, voice almost a whimper. The child swallowed, strengthening her tone. "I know I wasn't perfect. I messed up a lot. But I love Warfang just as much as you do."

Tarrok inclined his head. "I almost believe that, now."

"So why can't you let me go?" she asked hoarsely.

There was no sound but the crackle and pop of the fire for several moments, and the girl thought she might not get an answer. But finally, the cheetah spoke, voice low.

"Everything I do is justified," he said, voice wavering imperceptibly, "If the end to my actions is justified."

The girl sniffled, then laughed shortly, shaking her head. "We had a saying like that," she said tiredly. "But we just said 'the ends justify the means'. It's a lot snappier."

They said nothing to each other for a long while. The girl stared desolately at the fire while Tarrok still sat turned away, refusing to look at who he'd kidnapped. The former was beginning to wonder if, with the latter's unwavering confidence, she would ever get out of here.

The hours passed quickly, and evening dawned on the world. But in their quiet cave, shut out from all light, neither knew it. Time was frozen there, as frozen solid as the trees outside or the little pools of clear water that dotted the forest.

Through all the hours, Tarrok was thinking. But as the harsh whirling winds outside began to wane, the cheetah soon came out of his thoughts. "The blizzard appears to be ending," he said, more to himself than to his forced companion. "It should be safe to travel–"

For once, it was the girl interrupting him. "What are you going to do to me?" Her voice was blank, resigned.

Tarrok glanced backwards but said nothing. He stood, beginning to dig at the snow. A few cracks of light along with fresh oxygen filtered through.

The girl stared at his backside, her expression turning stormy as she grimaced. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked, raising her voice.

The cheetah stiffened at that, and the girl continued softly, "Or, if you can't bring yourself to kill a child... Toss me in some hole and let time do it? Leave me in the middle of the wilderness? Throw me to the bears?" She couldn't seem to stop.

Tarrok sighed, finally turning back to her. "I have no desire to murder you, directly or otherwise."

"Then what?!" she yelled, jumping to her feet. Catching her temper–another thing she and Tarrok had in common, she realized with chagrin–the girl lowered her voice. "Are you going to find some abandoned house to live out your days in, lock me in the basement?"

She laughed, almost insanely. "Or maybe we could travel the world together! Two compadres walking the earth, climbing mountains, until we die?"

"I don't know!" It was the first time Tarrok had shouted in frustration.

But his cry was met with her own. "You didn't have a plan!" she yelled, stomping her foot. To her numb shock, tears were welling up, "You acted on impulse, on anger, and now we're out in the middle of nowhere and I'm never going to see the people I love again! Just because you had some petty grudge against me!"

Closing his eyes, the cheetah turned back to his work, digging out a tunnel to get to the surface. "And what about Warfang?" she pressed. "How could you just leave that behind, for this?"

"I know," said Tarrok, resigned, "that I can never go back there."

That pity she hated, again. Did she have Stockholm Syndrome? Did someone like Tarrok really deserve empathy?

The girl stomped out the fire, frowning. He was acting to save something he loved, an ideal he couldn't let go. She'd done the same thing... hadn't she? In attacking those bullies, in saving her guilty friends from the guards...

Though it may have been wrong, though maybe she could have done something better, she had done what she thought was right. And she knew, for Lily, for even Tyren, for any of her friends, she would go to the ends of the earth to protect them. Even if it meant doing bad things, horrible things... She would do it without a second thought.

And now, Tarrok was following his heart. As twisted an ideal as it was... They weren't so different, were they? Two kids with no family, intent on protecting the only things they had ever loved–at any cost.

The girl clenched her fists. "I will ask the Guardians to forgive you," she said, voice rising. "And I will beg the council to pardon you, at least."

Tarrok, who was climbing through the tunnel he had made, turned back in shock. Quickly, he shook it off and laughed, an action that made the girl deflate in confusion. "You wouldn't. Not for me. Anyway..." He smiled wryly. "You'll say anything to get me to release you."

"I mean it," she said quietly, following him.

The cheetah looked like he was tempted to believe her, but he shook his head again. "Anyway," he sighed. "You may not be an ape..." He glanced at her human face. Now in the cloudy daylight, it seemed even more garish. "But I can't trust you. Who knows what you are, what you're trying to do..."

"What I'm trying to do?" The girl smiled, then laughed, holding back tears. Soon, though, her expression turned bleak. "Tarrok... I just wanted a chance!"

She ran forward to catch his arm as he began to tramp south through the snow. Managing to take the cheetah off-guard, before he could shake her off, she spilled out, "A chance to be someone else, someone better! A chance to scrape together my own family, when I never got to have one before!"

Tarrok pulled away, turning quickly and staring hard at the snow. But the girl was undeterred. "A chance..." she said softly, "to be happy."

She noticed that he wasn't walking anymore, so she continued, "I won't even get to keep all these happy memories. I'll have to throw them away... Because someday, I'll have to leave to find my sister." The girl closed her eyes, and finally she couldn't hold back the tears at the truth she was speaking. "But, at least for a little while... I just wanted to have a chance."

"And..." She looked up. Tarrok was still standing there, not moving. The girl stepped forward slowly, until she could touch his shoulder. "I think you deserve that chance too!"

When he didn't react, she brought her hand down, clasping it. Minutes seemed to whirl by like snow, and she wondered if perhaps he had even heard her, if somehow he had been frozen there.

But suddenly, he turned on his heel and tramped off in the opposite direction, to the north, towards Warfang. The girl began to smile, slow at first, then a wide grin.

As Tarrok passed her, he said flatly, "Don't say anything." He didn't look back. "Just walk."

She did, but she opened her mouth. Hearing her inhale, the cheetah said sternly, "Don't make me change my mind." He walked straight ahead, shoulders back.

So she didn't say a word. With the snowflakes biting her back, she walked.

Up steep and round hills they tramped, through dark forests where the evening light couldn't reach, through once-grassy plains that were now blanketed with white... Unmarred but for the footsteps they had first left there, now returning to walk through them again.

And then night descended upon them, sweeping over like a veil. The deadly cold filled the two, and the air tightened, but neither the girl nor Tarrok seemed to feel it. Soon, the woods grew familiar. As the girl looked around, she saw scratches in the tree bark.

When the walled city appeared on the horizon, Tarrok finally spoke. "When you return to your life in Warfang," he said somberly, "I will no longer be there."

The words left her feeling bittersweet, like she'd lost something.

Soon they reached the wall. Tarrok pulled a rope with a hook out of his bag–so that's how he'd gotten out so quickly–and sent it sailing. It caught, and they climbed up. The ex-councilmember ushered her quickly down so the guard patrols wouldn't see them, though he left the rope.

The girl would have expected him to keep his head down, despite the deserted streets, but the cheetah walked proudly with his chin and eyes raised. Perhaps he was trying to capture the city, hold it in his memories. Until, someday, he could return.

And then they were standing on her street, before the door to the Guardians' house. Tarrok approached hesitantly. Pulling a key out of the pouch slung over his shoulder, he slipped it into the lock. The crystal clasp unhooked and clattered to the ground.

The girl picked it up and tried to hand it to the cheetah, but he shook his head. "Keep it," he said. "Don't forget."

And so the girl turned back to the door. But she didn't step over the threshold yet. For now, she just looked. Inside, the lights were dim. Perhaps they were gone, combing the woods for her. Perhaps they were sleeping. Or perhaps, inside that too-big house that her presence seemed to fill, the Guardians were waiting.

Tarrok was watching her, head tilted. For the first time since she had met him, the cheetah looked unsure.

The girl turned to him. "Tarrok..." she said quietly, smiling with gratitude. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

He blinked at being addressed. Suddenly, he seemed convinced of something, and the golden cheetah flashed her one last smile. Not an evil smile, nor a cruel one, but one full of sincerity.

"I said," Tarrok murmured, still smiling, "Don't say anything."

Then he was gone, flying off with the nimbleness that every cheetah possessed. She watched his shadow ascend the wall, and then, standing at its top, turn back. Just for a moment. Soon, it jumped down and disappeared for the last time.

No, the girl thought, watching the place where he had disappeared, I don't believe I'll ever see you again.

And then she turned, stepped into the dark house, and closed the door behind her.

Chapter Text

It's a little-known fact that, while the girl was laying half-alive in bed or tramping through the forest with Tarrok, the misfits were having a few adventures of their own. Some exciting, some mundane, but all providing insight into the lives of the children Warfang forgot.

The Story of Auren & Tyren

Somewhere in a white house, behind a white door, in a white room, a soul as blue and bright as the ocean was sleeping.

Morning was dawning, and, with a yawn and a stretch, Warfang was beginning to awaken. But it would be several hours before sunlight peeked through Auren's window and it'd be time for school. For now, he was free to dream.

So dream he did. In his mind, the ocean lapped gently at the rocks so far below. Moonlight sparkled over the sea that lay still, only small waves dancing in the light. Perfection. Auren didn't wonder why he had chosen this place, this time.

The dragon found his legs carrying him up the path to the cliff. In the shadow, a dragon stood, peering over the edge, then up to the moons. The boy had had this nightmare many times, and he'd long grown numb to it. He watched until, inevitably, he would wake up in his room in Warfang. Far away from that ocean cliff by the bloody shore.

But now, for the first time in forever, a stab of shock surged through his chest. Because as the clouds cleared and the light fell on the dragon standing at the edge of the drop, he saw that it was himself.

And there was only a moment of recognition before the boy stepped off the edge.

He ran, clambering up the rocks, but it was too late. The ocean, once calm and blue, turned into a roaring, foaming sea of blood that spit up viscera against the stones.

While he stared down the cliff in a panic, the water below stilled and opened up to a mirror. And as he caught a glimpse of the reflection in the bloody water, he saw his mother's face staring up at him.

Auren awoke in a panic, clutching at the sheets and hastily pulling them off. He gasped in the cool, sweet air, thanking the ancestors that they weren't filled with murky water.

Tyren, who had been sleeping under his brother's scaly arm, stirred. Auren closed his eyes and let out a breath, calming himself for his sibling's sake. The boy must have snuck in again. Usually, the ice dragon would dutifully carry his little brother back to his tower... But tonight, he let the child alone.

Maybe it's me who needs the comfort, Auren thought wearily.

The older boy blinked his bright blue eyes as he heard a thump outside. Now fully awake, Auren rose from his bed and tip-toed to the doorway. As he poked his head out into the top floor living room, he saw that everything looked the same. To his right, the balcony doors were still boarded up.

But to the left, the opposite balcony that Fighter hadn't noticed had been only locked with a key. Now, its doors lay slightly ajar.

Auren knew what he would find when he pushed those doors open. But it always was a little bit jarring, seeing his homebound mother outside the house, on the balcony no less.

"Mom?" the boy asked, stepping up beside her.

He saw the glazed look in her eyes, and he knew that she was not here right now. She was far away, in an empty summer house, looking out on the ocean that had taken her love.

The teenager sighed and eased over to her. "Alright, Mom," Auren said carefully, gently pulling Dia away from the edge. "Let's get you back to bed."

Auren had never been a gruff or rough-spoken sort of boy, nor a very serious one, nor an overly loud one. His words were always even and somewhat quiet. Calm, but easygoing and cheerful. But now, in his voice there was a somberness and a tenderness that no one else would ever hear.

Dia "woke up" then, blinking as a bit of life came back to her eyes. "Aurie," she mumbled, sounding about 10,000 years old. The dragoness resisted her son's touch, pulling back to the ledge. "My dear Auren," she said again, seeming a bit more awake now. Her murky green eyes were swimming with memories. "Your father will be home soon... Don't worry, he will come home... He has to."

The boy swallowed. "Yes," he said. He knew it was better not to resist. "Let's rest until he comes back."

She let him lead her now, unresponsive through the living room full of contraband, then down the wide-set stairs. One step at a time they went, the much bigger mother leaning on her son.

Sometime during their descent, Dia began to mumble again. "Have I ever told you about your father?" she murmured, a slight smile gracing her maw.

"He was the bravest dragon in the world," Auren whispered.

Dia nodded deliriously. "He was the bravest dragon in the world. Braver than any soldier, courage to match the greatest general... He didn't fight on the front lines, but on the inside. He saved countless lives. Countless lives." Her voice was a bit stronger now, a bit brighter. "Without doctors like him, we'd all be lost."

And then the strength faded and withered away. "But in the end, he couldn't heal his own wounds." She closed her eyes as she stepped down the last stair. "My dearest one, he couldn't even save himself."

Auren was mute as he led his mother to her room. By this point, Dia was practically crushing him with her weight.

But finally, they made it into that dark room, devoid of candle or rug or painting. Empty but for a coverless bed, a window with boards nailed over the glass. Auren didn't like it in here. He realized now it was because it reminded him of his own room.

"He has to come back," Dia was mumbling, eyes half-closed as Auren carefully helped her into bed. "We won't be able to go on without him..."

Once the older lady had slipped off into sleep again, the boy patted his mother's head. "We did, Mom," he said quietly. "We did."

And he left, closing the door to that empty room, locked the balcony door again, and went back to bed.

As he slipped under the covers, Tyren opened one lavender eye. "Auren?" he asked sleepily. "Do I have to go back?"

"Not yet," Auren answered, pulling the little boy close and closing his eyes. "You can sleep with me a little longer."

I wonder, the ice dragon thought to himself, listening to the child's breathing turn steady as he fell asleep, How could I ever have thought about leaving either of you?

The two stayed there until morning. Tyren didn't go back to the tower that night.

~~...~~

When Auren and Tyren walked down the stairs that morning, their scales still a little ruffled from sleeping, they could hear humming from the kitchen. The soft sound floated up the stairs, and Auren suddenly felt a small ache in his heart.

For a moment, the older of the two closed his eyes and imagined a time, back when Dia was always sweet and cheerful and kind, when she wasn't obsessed with suicide and sometimes got lost in her memories.

When her songs had reached him clearly while he was laying in bed or playing outside or sitting beside her. Not echoed through the halls of a too-big house.

As he headed into the kitchen, their mother turned to face them, beaming with the force of a thousand suns as she handed them their lunch. Auren couldn't help but smile slightly to himself, then. His mother was just a little odd. She was still the gentlest, sweetest dragon in all of Warfang.

"Are you boys ready?" she asked brightly. There wasn't a trace of the memory of last night in her glowing eyes. "Do you have everything?"

Auren shoved the lunch into his messy bag, cluttered with papers. He glanced at the bag Tyren used to carry his little primer, oft-forgotten. "Yep."

Dia followed as they headed for the door. "Don't forget, children," she reminded sternly, "Always walk on the sidewalk; Tyren could get separated, kidnapped, and murdered! And be careful of loose stones! And stay away from any walls or high buildings! And keep your breaths ready in case of fire!"

"Yes, Mom," Auren said, quickly ushering a suddenly stoic Tyren out. The older boy was worried–usually he didn't put on that apathetic face until they reached the schoolyard–but in the rush, there was no time to check on Tyren.

From the doorway, their mother cried, "And be careful not to stab yourself in the eye with your quills! I love you!"

"Love you too," the boys chorused half-heartedly, already halfway down the hill.

And that was that.

The brothers walked on in silence for a long time, passing bystanders with their heads down. The cheerful, talkative Auren and Tyren died every school morning, replaced with two quiet, pensive boys. Cedric could have passed by in the street and not known them.

Tyren began to slow the closer he got to the school, his steps growing heavier and heavier. Soon, he was almost a whole yard behind Auren. He forced himself to keep stepping forward, though his body resisted.

Eventually, they reached the shady alleyway that led to the school courtyard. From where they were standing, both could hear the squabbling and yelling of the other children. A few more minutes and the teacher would be calling them into that grey building. They'd all march into hell and be gone.

It was there in the dark alleyway that Tyren stopped. When Auren blinked and looked back, he saw his brother shaking violently, frozen in place. He quickly scampered over and the little boy looked up at him. There were no tears in his lavender eyes.

"I can't go there," Tyren said. The boy spoke so seriously despite his shaking that Auren wondered if this creature was his brother at all. "I can't."

"Hey..." Auren put a wing around the child. "It's no different today than any other day."

The littler ice boy sniffed. "I can't."

Auren considered skipping school right then and there, and taking his brother with him. He had no clue where the other misfits were–Fighter Girl hadn't shown her face in a week–but they could run anyway. Slip in back home. Dia wouldn't notice; if they were quiet, they could hide upstairs.

Or they could even head out of Warfang, into the cool forest. It was growing colder, and Auren predicted that the first snow would break in the next week or two. But the exercise would keep them warm.

On any other day, he would have.

But...

He remembered that talk he'd had with Fighter, so long ago. It's hard to fight back. I don't know how I do it. Guess you're just braver than I am. But if that girl could stand up to his and Tyren's bullies, stand up to that councilmember that had been bothering her, and even stand up to him...

Maybe it was time for him to be brave too.

Squaring his shoulders, Auren said resolutely, "We have to go, Tyren. We have to show them that we won't run away, no matter what."

Tyren looked unconvinced. But, eventually, he stood up a little straighter too. "I guess."

Auren's puffed-out chest deflated a bit, seeing his brother's pleading stare. "Remember what I told you," he said gently. "Don't say a word. Don't even look at them."

And so, the brothers stepped out of the shadowed alleyway and into the sunlight.

The morning went off without a hitch, for once. On most days, Auren could count on having his horns pulled or at best being verbally berated. But today, nobody even looked at him or Tyren. They sat in the dirt where the trees were planted, and not a single person stopped to accost them.

But that happened sometimes. As Auren and Tyren headed to their classrooms–the former on the third floor, the latter on the second–they thought very little of it. Just a lucky morning.

From there, the long first period went off without a hitch for the both of them. Tyren was unfortunate enough to share a grade with the most vicious of the bullies, the little one with the big mouth. But the small cheetah boy paid him no mind.

Usually, the intelligent child could barely pay attention with the constant harassment... But now, he sat at his squat little floor-desk and for once managed to complete an assignment, much to the high praise of his worrying teacher. She'd tried to look out for her brightest student, but so rarely could she catch harassment in the act–and the boy had not once asked for help.

Auren had no classes with the cheetah trio–the loud ringleader was a year younger than him, and the quiet one a year older–but usually someone or other took the time to knock over his inkwell or hiss an insult into his ear while he was trying to listen to the teacher's droning. Not today.

By then, they both had noticed the lack of abuse from their classmates. But still, they didn't pay much attention to it. They'd had good days before–not ones that had gone nearly this well, but it wasn't too unusual.

It was at lunch break that they realized something had changed.

Auren was sitting in his usual spot under the tree, near the wall at the back of the schoolyard. Tyren, having finished his lunch, was half-heartedly playing with a ball. But a burst of energy hit him, and he gave it a vigorous kick.

The child watched with wide, dismayed eyes as it rolled across the schoolyard, bounced, and knocked right into the little cheetah bully.

The boy blinked, turned around, and bent over to pick up the ball. Seeing the terrified look on Tyren's face–he knew he was in for it now–the cheetah walked over. A hush swept over the courtyard. Everyone was looking, waiting to see what would happen. Would he beat up little Tyren? Throw his ball over the wall? Give him a terrible tongue-lashing?

Auren, finally noticing how silent the courtyard had become, growled as he saw the cheetah standing over his brother. He stood to stride over and try to at least take a few blows so Tyren could run for it.

But the small cheetah saw that the spotlight was on him. So, straightening his back, he proclaimed in his loudest voice, "GOOD CITIZEN OF WARFANG!"

Tyren looked quite rattled at the shouting, but the boy only continued, "It appears that you have lost your ball! Allow me to return it to you, because that's what a no-blee guard would do!" He set it on the ground in front of the flabbergasted dragon.

Turning at once, the former bully went to stomp off–but spied a child trying to sneak a piece of jerky out of another student's lunch. "Robber!" he boomed, jetting off. "Stop right there!"

The crowd collectively blinked, exchanged glances, and slowly dispersed. Hesitantly, Auren sat back down, and his little brother spent a few moments staring at the ball, completely dumbfounded. Finally, he returned to his playing, though with a bit more energy.

Second period was uneventful, but now the other students were whispering between each other. Teachers had to rap on their desks to quiet the constant buzz. Even Tyren's teacher, a very gentle cheetah who never humiliated her students, had to give a small dragon a firm whack on the snout with her ruler.

Children who had shown the brothers nothing but apathy now stared, their lessons forgotten. The small-time bullies who had poked them or stolen a quill or ripped out a scale didn't dare touch them. It was an oddly peaceful time in class, though the brothers could feel eyes on them at all times.

The second break of the day was for sports and games, ruled over by a stern-looking mole. Things were typical–except, for once, Auren and Tyren were not drafted last.

At one point during the game, the ice dragon kicked the ball too hard, sending it sailing over the wall.

"Nice shot, Auren!" Everybody laughed.

The dragon opened his mouth to shoot off a harsh retort, but he looked over and realized that the boy who'd delivered the compliment was smiling. "Uh... Thanks."

They had been laughing at the potshot, not him, he realized. Normally he would have gotten a sarcastic remark or a groan or a kick in the side. But this time, even the mean physical teacher was grinning.

By third period, the aura he and Tyren seemed to give off, keeping everyone a safe distance away, was gone. People inched closer to them, even tossed a few pleasantries their way. "Good morning, how are you, wasn't that shot just hilarious?" The brothers drifted through the halls in a confused haze, for once the center of attention in a good way.

In the final third period, a female cheetah plopped down next to Auren. He glanced at her then back to his paper. She was one of the bubbly, more popular kids, probably one who had teased him just to get a laugh out of her friends.

"You have the best grade in this class, right?" she asked cheerfully, spinning the quill around in her fingers.

The ice dragon looked up. "Yeah... I guess so."

The cheetah leaned forward, still smiling. "Could you help me out? This problem is pretty hard."

Feeling like he was trapped in some odd dream, Auren shrugged. "Sure," he conceded.

When school finally let out, Auren went to find his brother among the mess of chatting students. He was feeling rather addled, and was ready to lock himself in his room and wonder what the hell he had done to make this strange day happen. Would tomorrow be the same? Was it some cruel joke?

As he headed towards the back, he found himself suddenly sandwiched between a group of people on his right, the short wall on his left, and the quiet, observant bully right in front of him.

Having nowhere to go, the two stopped and stared at each other for several moments. Finally, the cheetah shifted, shoving his paws into his robe's pockets. "Hey."

Auren stared distrustfully at him, but the concern melted. Finally, he shrugged to himself. Why not. "Hey."

The children on their right broke up. They were able to leave now, but they found themselves still locked in a staring contest. Finally, the cheetah put his head down. "Sorry about your dad," he mumbled quickly, then beat a hasty retreat.

Auren gawked after, standing still in the courtyard. Had the world gone mad?

The boy found Tyren talking happily with a bunch of students and practically dragged him out of there. What in the world had turned the school on its head so?! One day they were outcasts, the next...

They rushed out the alley and into the street, preparing to take their walk home alone as normal. Before they could get far, though, a petite brown earth dragon came scampering out of the alley. Auren stepped aside, but to his surprise, the girl stopped before him.

Trying not to look too flustered, the dragoness stopped her panting. "Hey," she said sheepishly. When Auren and Tyren only stared, she asked quickly, "Are you guys going home? Where do you live?"

The ice dragon pointed silently up the winding road that led to Warfang South.

"Me too," the girl chirped. "Mind if I walk with you?"

And so the three of them walked home together.

It was quiet at this time of day; the yards were empty of children and the streets had few passersby. The silence was only broken by the earth girl's chattering, and a distant crowd as the road led them close to the market district. Auren and Tyren began to relax with school far behind them, and even answered back. In this cacophony, they managed to catch that her name was Kari.

The little boy, growing tired, clambered onto Auren's back and collapsed with a huff between his wings. This seemed to send Kari into the heights of what people from Fighter's world would call "fangirling".

"Your brother is adorable," she said dreamily. Tyren, though mentally drained, shot her a winning grin.

"We get that a lot," Auren said, giving a small smile. As they passed through a shady area flanked with trees, a tall hill before them, the boy finally looked closer at Kari. His smile faded. "I've seen you going this way often. Why haven't you walked home with us before?"

The girl blinked, as if she hadn't expected that. "Oh... um..." She looked away. "Well..."

Auren sighed. "Because until today, we were the scapegoats of the whole school, right? It wasn't safe to be seen with us?"

Kari looked down. "I always wanted to be your friends..." she admitted. "Those bullies were so mean to everyone, but I thought it was just awful how cruel they were to you. You seemed like such a nice, funny dragon outside of school..."

She smiled at the little boy who gazed quietly at her from his vantage point. "And you, Tyren, were so smart and cheerful. It wasn't fair how they treated you, and most everyone else thought so too."

Auren looked at her, eyes hollow. "Why didn't you tell us this before?"

The earth dragon faltered, then looked away quickly. "I was scared," she whispered, her dark green eyes beginning to well up with tears. "They picked on me, but only a little bit. I knew if I talked to you... It would only get worse. And I wanted to so bad!"

She gazed at Auren's deadpan expression. "I'm so sorry... I was just so scared... But it was selfish of me to only think of myself!"

She did cry then, stopping to hide her face in the leaves of a low-hanging willow tree. Auren's expression melted as he gazed at this pitiful creature. A friend... someone him and Tyren could have spent time with at school, to make the days pass easier... That had been what he'd needed. A hole in his heart that not even the misfits could fill. But could he blame her? After all the times he had run from the bullies just because he was a coward?

To Kari's surprise, she soon found a small, cool paw on her shoulder. Tyren had dismounted his perch and come to stand next to the earth child. "I forgive you," he said, so solemnly that both the teenagers wondered if he was as old as time.

Not to be outdone, Auren too said, "It's okay. It's not your fault what they did to us." He looked at the ground as Tyren climbed back up onto him and settled between his shoulders. "They're done with us now, so let's forget it and move on."

Kari smiled slightly, wiping away tears as they resumed their upward climb. "I'd like that."

There was hope for them now.

It was a future they had always wished for, an outcome they had never dreamed of. Neither Auren nor Tyren knew who their guardian angel was, but she had descended upon them, touching their lives and finally giving them hope.

From now on, it was time to look to the future, not cower in the past. They'd have a chance. A chance for Auren's cold exterior to melt, a chance for Tyren's smile to return.

A small light to hold onto, for just a little while. A spark of joy, a hint of the future they deserved, the future that had been stolen from them. And that was something beautiful.

The Story of Serena

It was the bell that brought her out of her peaceful, dreamless sleep, back into the horrors of reality. That damn bell. You could hear it four houses away, and it clattered against her skull. Morning, lunch, curfew, it snaked into her head and jumbled around even after the ringing had long stopped. That damn bell.

Serena opened her eyes and rolled over onto her stomach, shoving her face into the hard pillow. She had thirty minutes to be ready for breakfast–but for the lightning-fast cheetah, it was a matter of seconds to get into her dayclothes and brush down her short fur.

Normally she'd spend the time at her desk by the grimy window, hunched over her notebook as she gleefully scribbled down chapters.

But some days were like this. She could barely muster the will to open her eyes, much less get out of bed. So she lay there.

When her mind couldn't stand laying idle anymore, the cheetah girl glanced backwards. The door was closed, and the footsteps pattering down the stairs were light. The headmistress always stomped. Gently, she pulled away the pillow that covered the headboard.

Serena carefully traced the words carved into the soft flimsy wood. I miss dad, she read with her fingers. With a claw, she deepened the scratches of, I want to go home. From there, the words became a jumble, random letters and words and regrets spilling together.

Slowly, the cheetah rose and sat down at her desk. She looked down at her notepad with dull eyes, then turned to the last page. In the lower corner, in words so small they were barely readable, she wrote, I don't remember mom.

Then she crumpled the paper up and tossed it out the window.

That wasn't true. She did remember her a little bit, in glowing bits of memories beside a roaring fire. Before she had run off to the war. Her voice had been deep, and she'd sing in a tenor most females couldn't pull off. It'd had always been a jaunty, cheerful song, unlike the solemn and slow vocals that defined cheetah music.

She'd always been smiling, that much she knew. They'd danced together, and the tiny Serena would step up onto her toes or be swung around onto her shoulders.

But when she thought of her mom's face, she could only see her aunt's old, dull blue countenance, artificially aged with crinkles of worry around the eyes.

Or worse yet, she saw the headmistress' angled face, her withering glare. Then, she tried to stop remembering.

Breakfast at the long table, tuning out the ruckus of the other children. No school today, but she wasn't allowed to leave. Writing or reading in the sparsely furnished sitting room, uncomfortable and alone.

The hours wore on. That was how it was in the orphanage. Every day the same; it was all just a waiting game until she could sneak out to go to the meeting. Though, with the aggressiveness of the mistress' nightly check-ups lately, she hadn't been able to leave for nearly a week. So each day descended into the same dullness it had been before her friends.

And, really, there was nothing else to say.

Around midday, the headmistress stomped into the grey and brown sitting room. "You have a visitor," she barked.

Serena perked up. There had been a time when her aunt visited her every day. Now, they were getting less and less frequent... And it had been so long, the girl wondered if she'd been forgotten, abandoned in this horrible place.

Their meetings were often awkward anyway; her aunt had never been overly talkative or cheerful. She, of course, loved Serena, and was working as hard as she could to get her out... The poor, timid lady just had a rather hard time expressing it. And for Serena, who always wore her heart on her sleeve, it was almost off-putting.

Still. It was a bit of brightness in the old, grey orphanage. A memory of a family that had once been united, long ago.

Realizing that the old cheetah was glowering at her, the blue girl cowered. "T-thank you, miss," she said hastily.

Humphing, the headmistress strode out. Now with her weighted presence out of the room, Serena scurried into the twisty hall that led to the waiting room. She pasted a smile on her face, hoping for once she would get one in return.

But as she rounded the corner into the cramped waiting room, she didn't find her aunt sitting in the chair. She found Auren.

Seeing that he was looking rather troubled, Serena scurried in, panic flooding her. "Oh, what is it?" she cried. "I can just tell something is wrong!"

The dragon took a slow breath. He clearly wasn't bringing good news. Once he had composed himself, he said, his normally strong voice almost shaking, "Fighter is sick."

Serena at once plopped down in the chair across from him. "How sick?" she asked anxiously. "I haven't been able to come for a week," the girl lowered her voice, "But she'd been gone a week before that..."

"She didn't come then, either." Auren swallowed. "One of those Guardians caught me and told me that she'd been mumbling about me or something. She's completely delirious."

Serena's eyes were wide as he continued, "They asked me to come see her..."

Auren closed his eyes, remembering the ordeal. She'd had her hood up–the Guardians didn't know that he knew her secret–but when they stepped outside, he'd gotten a good look at her. Her skin was a deathly pallor and cold to the touch, half-lidded eyes dilated so that they were almost solid black, body twitching and shaking. He wouldn't have wondered that he'd been staring at a corpse.

"She looked awful," Auren exclaimed, appearing to be a bit sick himself. "I don't think she had any idea who I was. She was just mumbling something the whole time. And the Guardians told me she'd been slipping in and out of a coma for two weeks."

Serena was practically shaking now. "Is she going to be okay?" she whimpered.

Auren shrugged hopelessly. "It looked pretty bad," he admitted, then sighed. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know."

Seeing the look on Serena's face, he patted her back as he stood. "Don't worry too much. I'll keep checking on her, if they'll let me. She's a fighter, right?" Auren smiled wanly, his eyes hazy. "If she can take a drop down a ravine, then some illness isn't going to kill her."

And then he was gone. Serena sat there numbly for several minutes after, consumed with shock and dread. What would happen to poor Fighter Girl, the beacon of their ragtag little team? She could scarcely imagine a meeting without her.

It wasn't long after Auren's departure that Serena heard the telltale stomping that meant the headmistress was approaching. That rumbling over the ground that never ceased to fill her with dread. The girl stood up straight as that dark presence entered the room.

"Are you done?" the grey cheetah asked harshly. At Serena's mute nod, she thrust a bag of gems at her. "You need to go to the marketplace. Ten pounds of meat, three heads of lettuce, five pounds of tomatoes..." Her droning went on, and the cruel lady provided no pad and pen.

Once the list was finished, Serena said hesitantly, "Alright, just let me grab my–"

"Now." And the cheetah was gone.

Serena remembered the notebook that had been left in the sitting room, but she was too terrified to go grab it. If she was spotted, she was in for it. Hurriedly she scurried off to the marketplace, hoping nobody would touch it in her absence.

The cheetah had hoped that her excursion would go by quickly, but it was quite the opposite. The meat stand's line was about an hour long and looked to be getting no shorter. She forgot whether she was supposed to buy carrots or spinach. Then, after waiting in a long line, it turned out that the person before her had bought every one of the tomatoes at the vegetable stand–except for one bruised, wincy thing.

"Sorry, kid," the shopkeeper said with a shrug. She tramped off, defeated.

Three hours later, the sun was on its way down as Serena dragged herself and her groceries home. Why, oh why, did it have to be her? Her legs were aching. Her dress was worn and too tight, only adding to her discomfort. And these groceries were so heavy!

And then, to the girl's dismay, she heard the bell that meant dinner had started. She'd receive a scolding for coming in so late, if she got to have dinner at all! The headmistress punished her children by cutting their rations, and poor Serena, despite her demure nature, just couldn't seem to stay out of trouble. It was only thanks to the meeting she got anything even resembling a healthy amount to eat.

As the cheetah trudged through the door, she was immediately met with a blow to the head. She cowered as another came. "Where have you been?" the headmistress hissed. From the other room, she could hear the children having dinner.

Serena laid her ears back. "The lines were awful long, and–and they were out of tomatoes–and–"

"In my office, now!" The girl received another clout for her troubles as the mistress stomped off. Turning and seeing her standing stricken, the lady raged, "Put the groceries on the table, you stupid girl! Into my office!"

The cheetah girl didn't hesitate, ignoring the few heads that had poked out of the dining room. In a moment, she was skirted into the office and the door slammed behind her. Almost immediately, she found her familiar notebook in her face.

"What," the mistress cried, waving it about, "is this?!"

Serena stared. "It's... it's my notebook, ma'am."

"Don't be impertinent!" the old lady roared, slamming the book down onto the big wooden desk.

Serena wasn't trying to be impertinent, but she thought it best not to say so.

Continuing her tirade, the headmistress continued, "I mean those foul stories you keep within them! At first I thought them merely fanciful trash, but then I reached that disgusting 'romance'..."

The girl stared with wide eyes. "T-that story?" she stuttered. "I was just imagining... I mean, the apes aren't all bad, and I thought maybe they could be good if they had a chance..." For the first time, a bit of light came into her brown eyes. "I thought a story like that might stop people from hurting each other in the future, once the war is over!"

The headmistress stared in mute silence this whole explanation, but all that went into her ears was "the apes aren't bad". "You are lucky," the lady said, voice low, "I do not have you arrested for espionage and executed as a traitor!"

Serena stared as the anger flared up in the headmistress again. "No food!" she cried. "For two days–three days! That will starve those fanciful ideas you have about apes right out of your pretty head!"

"T-three days?" Serena stuttered, gazing on the older lady with big, hungry eyes. "But miss, I haven't had lunch or dinner today..."

"Then you shall go without!" the mistress snapped. "And what's more," she cried, seizing Serena's notebook, "No more writing, ever!"

And with that, she cast the book into the hearth.

The two were both startled by Serena's shriek of despair. At once, not even stopping to think about what she was doing, the girl reached into the embers and pulled the notebook out. Then, turning on her heel, she dashed through the door. She wasn't thinking when she left the orphanage entirely.

Serena wasn't sure where her feet were carrying her, but she let them. Into the afternoon she ran, the sun at her right. She wasn't thinking at all when she climbed through the hole in the wall, then ran through the tall grass and into the cool forest.

It was a very long time before the nimble girl stopped running. She gazed up at the setting sun, and saw that she had been running to the south-west. It was well across the ravine–she might even stumble upon the cave entrance if she walked much farther.

And then, the moment Serena had caught a glimpse of the sunset, it was gone. Twilight descended on the woods, and she was alone.

Normally, the frail cheetah may have cried. But instead, she walked numbly on. She wondered if she'd walk forever, like Cedric, uncaring of where the road ended. Right now, she wasn't thinking of anything but where her feet fell.

Until a house appeared before her. Serena stopped, then took a hesitant step forward. A house... out here in the middle of nowhere?

It looked rather homely, too. There was an amount of wear on it, but just a bit; it looked like the sort of home that was very much lived in and appreciated. The cheetah felt drawn to it, like it was calling her. So she stepped forward, over the wood fence and into the well-tended yard, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, so Serena pushed it open, poking her head inside. It was a little one-room cabin, with a bed in the corner, a hearth on the far wall, and a table in the middle. But on the inside, it looked rather sad and lonely. She stepped in, paws padding on the stone floor as she examined this abandoned house.

"Good evening, little cheetah girl."

Serena just about jumped out of her skin. She whipped around, hurriedly setting down a silver cup she'd taken from the shelf. "I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I didn't mean to break in, I just saw this little house out here in the woods, and I–"

"It's alright." The dragon brushed past her and took a striker down from the shelf, lighting a fire. The dark, abandoned room rather suddenly became warm and inviting. He gestured for Serena to sit on the little wood stool at the table, so she did, not even considering how odd this was.

Now in the brightly lit house, Serena had a chance to get a good look at this dragon. At a first glance, he looked rather old–his yellow scales were dingy and grey, his expression worn, his whole character haggard. But he was rather short–not even as big as Auren–and there was something in his eyes that bespoke youth.

The girl blinked and furrowed her brow, looking closer at him. Those eyes... They were pale and empty. Quickly, she jumped to her feet. "Y-you're blind," she stuttered, stepping forward. "Do you...?"

The dragon waved her off and sat down on a cushion across from her. "Blind," he said, his smile bitter. "Yes indeed, but not in the way you may think. I was blind to the truth. I believed I was serving justice, but in fact, I was only serving revenge."

Serena swallowed and sat down. "What happened?" she asked kindly.

The dragon's eyes rose, looking through her. He tilted his head. "How old do you think I am?" he asked in his worn voice.

"Um..." Serena stared, considering, then said politely, "I can see you're very old."

The dragon smiled again, and shook his head. "I believe you may be older than me, little one."

"But...!" The cheetah looked on with wide eyes. "I only just turned fifteen! And you..."

"Stress has aged me thousands of years." He nodded to himself. "Once, perhaps only five or six years ago–though I've long lost track of the days–I was just a child. And now, I can see the world for what it is." His blind eyes rose to the ceiling. "I know now that there is no justice in this world. No peace, no hope." The dragon's whole soul seemed to get a bit greyer then.

Serena gazed at him and clutched her notebook tighter to her chest. "But there is hope," she said softly. "There is! I believe in that." The cheetah turned away, remembering the headmistress' cruelty, the world that had taken her parents away. "Maybe not justice, all the time," she admitted, "But... I think that, someday... Maybe there could be."

The dragon was examining her with a clarity that made Serena wonder if he was really blind. But finally, he smiled. "You remind me of me," he said. "I had these same hopes... Long ago." His eyes seemed a little brighter now, and she could see flecks of gold returning to the grey void.

"But enough about me." Serena blinked, and suddenly there was a little white teapot on the table. Had that been there before? The dragon was pouring two cups, and he slid one over to her. "What brings you here, little cheetah girl?"

Serena stared into the leaves swirling in the green tea. She took a sip, and felt a little better. "I live at the orphanage," she said with a sniff. "The headmistress didn't like the stories I wrote. She's an awful lady." Serena glared down at the table. "She threw my notebook into the fire!"

"Hmm..." The not-old dragon took a long drink out of his cup. "But there it is."

Serena nodded. "I grabbed it out of the fire, but..." She opened the pages. The edges were charred and blackened, but it seemed none of her handwriting had been marred. "I guess it's alright," she admitted.

But the girl quickly stiffened. "Still, I'm never going back there!" she declared. "Never!"

"Isn't there someone who will miss you?"

Serena faltered, then looked away. "I could still visit my friends," she admitted. "But my aunt wouldn't know where I had gone..."

"Then," the dragon finished his tea and began to pour another cup, "you must return."

The cheetah looked down. "That's not fair," she said quietly. "It's not fair that my aunt had to give me to that awful lady... And it's not fair that both my parents ran off to fight in the war..."

It was quiet for a bit as he considered this. But finally, the dragon spoke up. "I think your headmistress might have experienced a similar injustice." His smile was wry. "People don't turn into bad apples for just any reason. Do you think maybe... Something made her that way? Something may have happened?"

"I... I guess so. But there's no excuse for being cruel to others."

He nodded. "Indeed. But, the best way to deal with unkind people... Is to grin and bear it. Always be polite, no matter what they do to you. Maybe... You haven't been the best to the old witch?"

Serena thought about the pranks she had sometimes pulled, the harsh words she had delivered when her endless pool of patience finally ran out. "Maybe," she said softly. "I guess I could be kinder to her."

The room went quiet as Serena pondered this, and the old dragon sat with his blind eyes closed. But whenever the girl ran out of tea, a dull yellow paw came out from under the table to pour her some more.

"Do you know what I believe?" The dragon's low voice broke the silence. His eyes were still closed, like he was sleeping.

Serena looked at him, head cocked, as he continued, "I believe we all leave a little bit of our best energy behind once we're gone. Somewhere in this world, there's a piece of your headmistress walking around. Before she was unkind, before she knew injustice. Do you understand what I mean?"

The girl considered this. She wondered if, somewhere in Avalar, she and her mother were still dancing. "I think so."

"Good, good." The dragon opened his eyes. "Not many people do."

Serena wasn't sure how long she spent in that little cottage, but it was a very pleasant time for that girl who had been starved of warmth and comfort for so long. But, as the time passed, she looked out the door and saw that it was full night outside. Moonlight was spilling in through the half-open door.

"It's getting late," the girl ventured. "I have to go back, so... I may as well resign myself."

The dragon smiled at her serious speech. "Then, I shall bid you goodbye." At once, he did that quite odd thing where he seemed to be looking right at her. "I only ask two things of you."

Serena took his outstretched paw, and the two stood. He led her outside, ambling along on heavy legs, and finally they stopped at the fence gate. "The first... You mustn't come here too often."

"But...!"

The dragon lay a paw on her shoulder. "If you need me," he said with a sincere smile, "You will find your way back to this place. I will be here, and I will be here until the end of time. But..." He closed his eyes. "I am a tired old dragon. My energy might not be enough."

"What do you..." Serena tapered off. She saw that he wasn't going to answer.

"The second thing." He righted her, facing her towards the north-east, to Warfang. "You must walk forward and not look back. Not once." Seeing her pale stare, he almost seemed to grin. "You won't turn to ash or anything," he said with a laugh. "Just, for my sake, please don't turn around until you're far away. Go now."

But as he lifted his paw, Serena didn't take a step; she looked right back at him. His kindly yellow face was still there, patient. "What's your name?"

The answer was prompt. "My name doesn't matter." But, he saw the girl's pleading look, and he smiled. "Walk to the edge of that treeline." He pointed. "Then I will tell you."

So, the cheetah followed his command. She could feel his eyes on her all the way. Finally, she reached the edge of the clearing, gazing down into the darkness of the woods. "I'm here," she called back.

Serena thought for a moment that he might not answer. But she heard his voice, distant. She'd walked farther than she thought. "My name," he said. Though he wasn't shouting, and he seemed so far away, the girl heard every word clearly.

"Azael."

Serena couldn't resist anymore. She turned around then, expecting to see his disapproving stare. But behind her, there was nothing but trees and underbrush. Untouched, like she had never walked there at all.

Feeling strange and light, Serena turned back. In her memory's crannies, she clung to that old dragon. But as she stepped out of the forest and into the shadow of Warfang, it became only a wisp, an echo.

The Story of Cedric

Every day, the same dream.

Dark. It was too dark. He wasn't scared–he'd been in dark places before, but this was wrong, this was–

Where's Papa?

Hush, my love. We must be very quiet now. Let us play a game. Whoever can be the stillest wins a candy. Are you ready?

He tried. But he couldn't. Soon he was wriggling and whimpering impatiently.

I want Papa.

Her silence was crushing.

I want Papa!

You must be still, or they will find us. They will kill us.

What does kill mean?

It felt like that dingy cave was going to fall in on them, on the utter silence. Like the rocks might come crashing in from the ceiling, gone in an instant.

Do you remember when you threw a stone at the bird, my dear?

It fell out of the sky and stopped moving.

When you threw the stone, that is killing. The bird not moving, that is to die.

He didn't like that.

I don't want to die.

Then you must be still. You must.

"I don't wanna die," he mumbled, turning over. Realizing he was talking aloud, his light brown eyes opened, and he sat up in his bedroll.

It still surprised him, waking up in the darkness. The only light came from a few cracks in the ceiling. When he had come to the city a year ago, this place had terrified him, with its endless pitfalls and its crushing darkness. But he'd soon grown accustomed to the quiet of the ruins of Warfang.

Cedric clutched his head as he stood, striking a match and lighting his lantern. That dream... Almost every night, that dream...

He remembered being alone. As far back as the young boy's memory spanned, there was nothing. Nothing but the trees high above, the deserts all around him, the mountains reaching to the sky. There were only rarely people.

Well, that wasn't true. There was... something. But he couldn't even be sure. It had been so long ago, he didn't know what was real and what was fantasy. If that nightmare was just a false memory, he couldn't say.

As far as Cedric knew, he didn't even have parents. Perhaps the land had just spit him up. That was all he knew.

Though he stopped for a moment as he went to pick up his lantern. The mole crouched down, staring into the tiny flame. There was something tugging at the edge of his memory, but...

He blinked, and saw under his eyelids something–someone burning, heard the screams echoing about like they had come from further down the ruins. Cedric jumped away, knocking over the lantern with his foot, and scrambled over to the wall. Breathing hard, the boy pressed into the rocks.

His whole body was tense as he waited for the vision to return, another scream, real this time. But nothing came. His panic subsided, and he quickly went to right the lantern. He thanked the ancestors–if even he had ancestors–that the ornate thing had not been cracked.

The boy wasn't quite sure why... But it was important.

The mole ate breakfast alone in his dark little alcove that looked over the abyss. Once the day-old fruit was gone, he stretched and got ready for the day that would surely be the same as the last.

With his lute strapped on his back, his lantern cleaned and tucked into his pouch, and a bag strapped over his shoulder, Cedric ascended the ladder and poked his head into the daylight. Nobody was around, so he climbed out and replaced the grate.

And thus began his day.

It was very early morning, the perfect time to set up in the marketplace before it got too crowded. The guards would almost always chase him off then, but they didn't mind his cheerful music in the morning. And he usually got thrown a few gems.

Today, though, was a school off-day. Parents who usually shopped while their children were away were now at home. So, even as Cedric picked a sidewalk and played his music there, the market was still. Only a few shoppers came and went.

Normally the boy could engage in banter with the passersby, even dance with them at times, but now he was left sitting idle. Maybe that was why his mind began to wander, drifting off into the past. Though his fingers never stalled, he closed his eyes, and his notes turned slow and somber.

Go, my love, run.

Her voice was deadly calm, like it might shatter into glass at any moment. He couldn't help it; he looked back, seeing her eyes light up the dark.

Go!

He went, toddling as fast as his little legs could. Into the forest, to the dark, stamped-out path. He didn't know what he was running from. All he knew was that it was as if every monster in the world was nipping at his heels.

He ran until he couldn't carry himself anymore, until he collapsed in the bushes and hid there. Until the sky turned grey and the world began to darken...

"Hey, kid! Snap out of it! Are you listening?"

Cedric blinked, his fingers falling off the lute. "Huh?" A cheetah guard was hovering over him with a scowl on his face, his shiny silver armour glinting in the sunlight.

"I said," the guard repeated with an annoyed huff, "Time's up. Go on, shoo."

"Aw, c'mon." Cedric flashed a goofy grin. "It's not even midday yet. A mole's gotta earn his living."

"Thieves like you haven't earned a thing in your life," the guard grumbled. But, for a moment, his face softened with something resembling pity. Pulling a fruit out of his bag, he tossed it at the mole. "Here, kid. Don't say I caused you to starve. Now get outta here."

Shrugging, Cedric packed up his things and went on his way. But once he was in the cool shadow of an alleyway, he sighed and the cheerful look slid off his face. The boy slumped down the wall and came to rest on the cool concrete.

The boy held the apple up, staring at the shiny green thing. "Dumb guard," he muttered, then threw it at the wall.

He soon scrambled to retrieve it, shoving the bruised fruit into his bag.

This was how most of Cedric's days went, and the rest of his afternoon as well. Setting up somewhere, making cheerful music for a few red gems, then soon being chased out by an angry guard or citizen.

This day, though, was worse than most. He couldn't seem to settle in a spot for more than an hour, and by the end of the day, he'd barely drudged together enough for the tiniest of dinners.

Of course, he could have easily stolen some food. But his heart wasn't in it. Not today. Lately, stealing hadn't given him even the tiniest of thrills, and the food he collected tasted bland and dry.

So, finding a nice shady spot near the wall, he sat down to eat his meager supper and watch the afternoon fade away.

It had been a tiring, lonely day, like many others that had come before it, exhausting in their dullness. Nothing ever happened to him anymore. Well, there was the gang, but...

The mole closed his eyes and pushed up his glasses, taking small bites of his food as he pondered. It wasn't like he was growing bored with them. That wasn't exactly it. Sure, they didn't screw around so much anymore... But they still made him smile. They filled his heart that had once only echoed with the song of a lonely forest path.

It was something else. The boy cast a glance to the wall, to the trees rising high beyond it. Something else.

The food was gone too soon, and he was left with his stomach rumbling. Letting out a little sigh, the mole leaned back against the grey bricks to rest his tired body.

He didn't realize that he'd fallen asleep until he found himself plunged into another dream, sinking into the depths of his memories. Through years he swam, swimming into an abyss that had been lost to him for so long.

Something brought him back.

He couldn't remember anymore what it was, but something led that child through the darkness and back to the dingy little cave.

There had been people here. He still felt their energy, like electricity, but now it was still and dark.

Mama...?

He stepped forward, but his bare paws landed in something wet and thick. He lifted up his foot, and as the clouds parted, moonlight flooded through the squat entrance.

It was a pool of red, flowing like a river, puddling into an ocean.

He remembered the bird then. Remembered picking up the little white thing, holding it in his small paws. The birds that would usually never let him touch them now lay still and dead in his hands, its pristine white feathers marred with red where the stone had collided.

He remembered asking, then, what had he done?

His parents turned away.

Now he asked again... By heeding his mother's request, by running into that forest... What had he done?

Mama?

He awoke from his daydream with a jolt, flying to his feet. He'd only been asleep for a moment, but night had swiftly pulled its veil over Warfang, leaving the city dark.

Finding a match buried in the bottom of his bag, Cedric lit his lantern. The candlelight danced prettily in the clear glass and gave a bit of warmth to the dusky streets. He needed to clear his head.

And so he wandered.

Down pretty little streets fringed by bare trees, through neighborhoods with tall buildings looming over the street, into once-crowded squares that now lay quiet and abandoned in the night, he walked.

He felt like he was discovering something again, like when he'd first come here. Warfang hadn't been intentional–he'd heard tales of the magnificent Dragon City, a place built by his own kind. But he never made plans. He just followed the road. And one day, the road led him here.

Even then, he wasn't thinking to spend more than a week here. The sights were unbelievable, and the city beautiful... but the crowds were too much for the solitary mole.

It had been Auren who'd drawn him in, that day over a year ago. He'd found some stairs and climbed up onto the wall just to see what was up there–and nearly tripped over the dragon who'd been teetering over the edge, staring longingly down at the ground far below.

Shining the lantern forward, he'd revealed wide blue eyes staring at him. Slowly, the dragon stepped back away from the wall.

Cedric had just stared, head tilted. After a moment, he sat down next to the dragon and set the lantern down. They sat there together, not saying anything for a minute.

When the mole spoke, his voice had still been in the high pitches of a child, not having even deepened yet. "You looked like you were going to jump," Cedric had squeaked, laughing. When the dragon didn't speak, he pressed, "Were you?"

Auren shrugged. "Probably not," he mumbled, peering over the edge again.

"If that's what you're tryin' to do," the mole said sardonically, "I'd really go somewhere higher. Do it that way an' you'll barely break your bloody arm."

Auren's face had screwed up a moment, and then he burst out laughing.

From then on, the ice dragon was there on the wall every night. Cedric just kept coming, and he never left.

The mole didn't realize where his legs had been carrying him until he saw that he was in the nice side of Warfang. Looking up to the great wall, he squinted. He could hear distant laughter. Auren, Serena, maybe Strider... He'd already heard the news about Fighter, though not much else.

He felt a yearning to climb up there and be with them... But the boy turned away. He couldn't... Not tonight.

But he did climb the wall that night. Not the eastern wall where his friends were, but the southern one.

Cedric didn't gaze out over the scenery, to the distant wilderness that was whispering his name. He knew that if he did, he might just find himself walking towards it. For now, he sat, and he gazed into the lantern. The little flame set light dancing over the glass. It entranced him, pulling him in.

And he saw it. The final piece of the puzzle, clicking into place. Closing his eyes, the wisp of the memory came to him.

Screaming, the crowd, smoldering smoke filling the sky, choking the stars

Burn her! Burn her!

No no no, wrong wrong wrongwrongwrong

He pushed to the front, and she was there, looking like a princess resigned to her fate, like a warrior who'd fought to the end–

The fire flared up, licking at her dress, bursting into flame, the fires touching the sky and the clouds and the moons

stop stop stop

She was burning, but she didn't scream or cry out, silent as death–

Run, my love, the black corpse whispered.

Hey! Kid, stop!

He'd grabbed a little glass lantern–he didn't know why, he didn't know–and he ran, he ran, he ran. Into the forest, to the cool, sweet grass where the heat couldn't singe his face, he ran. He ran forever, and he never stopped running.

Blinking, the mole came to, staring hard at the lantern. These memories... They were just a wisp, a whisper, but...

With the winds and the moons at his back, Cedric stood and looked out over the landscape. To the grass that stretched endlessly on, to the forests that seemed to touch the stars, to the rolling hill and snow-capped mountains that lay beyond.

And the winding road that led through all of that. The road that was calling his name again, pulling him away from the safety of the city.

Why was he forever drawn to the wilderness? Was he searching for something? He knew that the forest would never give him answers, and yet, still he wandered without purpose.

A part of him knew that he couldn't stay in Warfang forever. But the other part of him almost wanted to.

The boy glanced back to the eastern wall. He couldn't see their silhouettes from here, but he knew they were there. To that little spot on the wall they would always return. Even he would, if he left this place. Someday, he'd come back. And that was the only plan he would ever make.

No... It wasn't time. He couldn't bear to leave behind those happy days that had filled his heart, making him feel something close to whole again. At least... at least not yet.

But dawn was breaking. When the time was right... He'd go.

Turning and clambering down the wall, the mole ran to meet his friends. For now, he could revel in this paradise a little longer. Just a little bit longer. And he was going to make the most of the time he had left.

The Story of Strider

"Analis, have you finished your lessons yet?"

In the dark, candlelit room, the black dragon turned away from the desk scattered with papers. She was very small; her wide silver eyes seemed to take up half her body. "Not yet, Mother," she answered in her sweet little voice.

The older shadow dragon tilted her head. "It's very important you keep up your schooling, Ana. She who holds the knowledge holds all the power. Don't forget that."

Ana's father was sitting in the corner observing her work, and the earth dragon smiled at his mate's hovering. "Come now, my love," he said, his laughter shaking the big two-story house. "Don't be so serious! It's just a bit of work. Let's have dinner."

Mother shot the green dragon a withering look, but sighed and relented. "Alright. Come now, sweetie." She held out a paw, which the little dragon took.

But before she could walk far, she instead found herself swung onto the earth dragon's shoulders. He was a bit lanky, but very tall, so the little shadow girl could nearly touch the ceiling.

"Oooh, Father, don't!" she cried with a giggle as he dashed down the stairs. Once they reached the living room, Ana was quickly deposited on the ground again, and her head-scales ruffled by Father's big paw.

Mother's smile was mute, but there. Even today, Analis wouldn't have noticed that anything was wrong. Her mother began to bring in plates of food. Warm venison with piping-hot gravy, baked potatoes with their crusts charred and blackened, blue pudding sweet with the earthy taste of forest-picked berries. Everyone laughed at Ana when she finished her plate and asked for more.

It was a normal night, like the many others that had come before it. Ana was six, maybe seven. She didn't remember exactly now. The wisps of memory were fading.

When dinner had finished, Analis found herself sitting between her father's legs, wrapped in warmth. He leaned down and tenderly touched his snout to her forehead, saying something in his rumbling voice. Perhaps he had been reading to her. The fire in the hearth crackled warmly, and outside the pretty glass windows, stars were twinkling. The wooden walls were dancing in the firelight.

And even Mother, usually so prim and pensive, was smiling. Was it just her inflecting on her old memories, or was there something sad behind that smile? Something regretful?

Something hollow?

It could have been minutes later, though it felt like hours, when Mother came from the kitchen with two glasses of a red liquid.

"Isn't our Ana a little young for wine?" Father's laugh shook the little girl to her core, and she couldn't help but giggle too.

Mother was smiling slightly. "Never too young, and it's just a bit. Drink up, my darlings."

Her mother's face, the flecks of grey scales and the endless black eyes, leaning in to kiss her and Father's foreheads, was all that Analis could remember clearly from that night.

It was all a blur, a blur of dancing shadows and laughter and finally, sweet, sweet darkness.

Strider opened her eyes from where she had been resting next to the dimming fire. Standing and stretching, the black dragon headed to the lip of the cave and peered outside. Through the cracks and crags of the ravine, the sky was lightening. Morning would come soon.

But not yet.

She was getting into one of her restless, worked-up moods. Like she was supposed to be doing something, but she wasn't sure what. Just sitting idle, even trying to meditate on the soothing morning, made her anxious.

Turning, Strider returned to her little alcove and got out her sketching pencils. Drawing might calm her mind. Within minutes, the page began to fill out with the gentle curves and lines of a dragon. No... two dragons. One slender and demure, the other tall and laughing. Bodies without heads.

She didn't realize what she was drawing until she got to the faces. Stopping, the girl closed her eyes. She tried to remember their faces, their eyes. Strider realized then that she couldn't, that they were gone.

Suddenly overtaken by anger, the girl scratched out the paper, scribbling over it wrathfully. Staring at the mess, now marred with thick black lines, she cast it into the fire and watched the headless dragons burn.

She couldn't sleep, couldn't draw, couldn't go to Warfang yet. So she did the next best thing.

She went into the cave.

By now, Strider knew this place like the back of her paw. The rubble from the ceiling collapse had been cleared, so she met no obstacles as she weaved her way through the darkness.

And, by now, she was also used to the things she saw in there.

At one bend, she saw her mother standing there. Where her head should have been, there was nothing but static. "Analis," she whispered, reaching out a paw as inky as the darkness. The crystal light made her look eerie, like a monster.

"Forgive me, my darling."

Strider walked straight through her, and she dispersed.

Through the dark halls she travelled with her head up and her grey eyes steady, and before long, she found herself ducking into that little alcove. Stopping to drink from the clear pool, the girl turned to the pile of items stacked neatly in the corner.

She'd had them tucked far away in this cave for a reason. It was too difficult to deal with the memories. If she had these things in arm's reach, she'd always be going through them, reading those letters over and over. But sometimes, she just couldn't help herself. The dragon fingered the cloaks, traced the faded letter that she had memorized, stroked the scratchy patchwork of the doll.

And then she came to the dagger.

It glinted as she picked it up, its glassy sheen only marred by the blood that still stained it. The only thing she had left of her father.

Looking at the dagger, she couldn't fight it for long. Closing her eyes, Strider let herself be carried away, back to that morning.

When she woke up in her big, soft bed, the room was flooded with darkness. It was pouring daylight outside, but the curtains were drawn tight.

Analis would often lay here awhile listening to the sizzling on the stovetop as her parents cooked breakfast, or the rustling of a book's pages being turned. Usually, Mother would have come in and drawn the curtains by now, given her daughter a kiss as she pretended to sleep.

This morning, it was completely silent.

The little girl sat up in bed, clutching her head. Last night was a blur, a whirl of colours and warmth and sound. Mother had given her that drink... And everything after that was gone, dropped out the bottom of her memory.

Turning her head, Ana spotted something on her dresser. She drew the curtains and padded over to the folded paper, recognizing immediately Mother's careful curved clawwriting. It still smelled of fresh ink.

My dear Analis,

When you wake up, you will be on your own. I have little advice for you, and I am sorry. Stay on the road. No matter where you go, please, make Warfang your final destination. I cannot say you will be safe there, but it will be a start.

Please accept my apology for what I have done, my darling. Words cannot express my regret for what I've been forced to do – not just to your father, but to you. But what must be done is done; and now, it is time for you to grow up and fly away, my little sparrow.

You will not see me again if I can help it, so hold tight to this letter. However, if someday you do find me, I ask not for forgiveness... But only that you listen to your mother's tale. If, after that, you wish to pursue revenge, I will not resist. My child, you deserve that revenge more than you know.

Be brave, Analis. No matter what, please continue holding onto hope. It's all you have now.

Until we meet again, though I pray we will not,

Mother

She had to read the letter again, and then, blinking, read it once more. The letters blurred together even as she squinted down at the page. What did this mean?

The small girl set the letter down and headed outside her dark bedroom, to the still hallway. "Mother?" she called softly down the stairs, straining her ears though she could hear nothing.

Ana took a few steps down. "Fath..."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she stopped. On the table between the couches, a knife had been carefully set down. Her wide eyes followed the pointing dagger and the river of blood connected to it. Over the back of the couch, she could see her father's big form.

"Father?"

The girl stepped forward slowly, her heart pounding in her chest, and rounded the corner to the other side of the couch.

He was laying there–sleeping, she thought naively–his brown-gold eyes closed peacefully. On the ground, a wine goblet lay with its contents spilled. She couldn't tell if it was wine or blood dripping down his throat and onto the floor.

"Father..." Analis tenderly put her hand on her father's shoulder and shook it, but his body was cold. Pushing up his head, she saw that a clean line spanned from one side of his throat to the other, cutting through the thick scales and hide like butter.

Father was dead. And Mother... Mother was gone.

Ana couldn't understand. For the years to come, she would read over that letter time and time again, 'til she was old enough to realize its implications. But, for now, she did not know. She drank the wine–the alcohol she was told never to touch–and now she was alone. That was why Father was dead.

She took the knife. Didn't know why; didn't matter. She drifted through the house like a ghost as she took what she needed. Grabbed a bag, grabbed the letter. And she ran. She couldn't remember if she had cried, or if she'd been just like she was now. As deadly calm as the grave, observing everything impassively.

All that mattered was that she wasn't there anymore, in that dark house that had once been full of fire and warmth and light. A dead memory of Mother's smile, an echo of Father's laugh. She left them behind as she disappeared into the forest. And her new life began.

Her stomach was rumbling.

But that was fine. Strider was used to this. Unlike Cedric, she didn't have much talent she could put to use to earn food, and stealing could put her in some dungeon. Usually she would forage, but with winter coming on, the berry bushes and fruit trees were now barren.

At least there was always food at the Meeting.

When midday rolled around, Strider found herself wandering the streets and alleys of Warfang, gazing at the people. She didn't spend a lot of time in the city, preferring her quiet forest and the shadowy ravine.

But... She was growing bored, and Warfang livened her up a little. Plus, it gave her some new material for her sketches.

As she was sitting on a nice little perch on top of a building, the dragon spotted someone... Someone familiar. Far below her, a grey wind dragon was walking, a parade of young children following him. Of course, there were many elderly wind dragons, but something about him–something...!

Strider opened her mouth as if to cry out, but the dragon turned, and the small smile slipped off her face. He had the same tender smile, the same look, but his face was different. It wasn't him.

Staring glumly down at her paper, the shadow dragon took up her pencil and began to draw. His face she could still recall. His cheerful beam, the kindly creases on his old face, the alert, young blue eyes.

She didn't find him right away. No, it took a month on the road for Analis to come upon that cute little shack in the forest, right next to a happy, bubbling river. And even then, she didn't approach it immediately.

People had been scarce during her short journey on the road. But when she did find them, they turned away from her–or, at worst, chased her off with a shout. She didn't know what she would find in that house. And, having never spoken to anyone except Mother and Father, she was afraid.

But a month of scavenging had taken its toll on the little girl. Her instincts were strong, and she'd been lucky to sniff out the occasional fruit tree or mushroom. But that was not a meal, and her little body was quickly weakening. She'd resorted to eating tree bark, all the while watching that house from a distance.

Finally, she made up her mind. She was going to knock on the door and beg for food. So she did just that, though her saunter turned into a timid step, and her knock was so small that she hoped the resident would not hear it.

But, soon, a kind-looking wind dragon opened the door and peered down at her. "Hello, little one," he greeted warmly. "What brings you to my corner of the forest? Are you lost?"

Ana had opened her mouth, but her breath suddenly caught in her throat, and at once she burst into tears. "Father's dead," she sobbed, "Father's dead and Mother's run away and, and, and...!"

At once, the old dragon ushered her inside. Within twenty minutes, she found herself sitting in a little stool at a high table, a cup of tea and a steaming plate of meat and vegetables before her. Between mouthfuls she told her story–though she didn't mention the letter.

The dragon narrowed his eyes at the part about her mother's sudden disappearance, though he said nothing. "Well, my child," he sighed, "I am just a lonely old bachelor. But, if you wish, you will always have a meal and a warm bed here. I would never turn away those in need."

And so, that night, she found herself in a cozy little room. With a fire in the corner-hearth, and a soft bed heaped with blankets that scratched her face, the girl sank into the first comfortable sleep she'd had in what felt like years.

What followed was the happiest few weeks Analis had had in a while. The old dragon reminded her of Father, though the wind dragon's laugh was gentle and he was more careful and kind than boisterous and silly. Still, his little jokes, the stories he told her by the living room hearth, the cheerful meals they shared together, the hours spent in the garden...

It was just a little while, but Ana was beginning to feel happy again. She couldn't be truly, not after what had happened–but she could have grown comfortable there. They had needed each other. She could feel it. He was lonely, she abandoned. They made a great pair.

They had made a great pair.

Three weeks after she came to that cottage, the old wind dragon was dead.

"Grandfather," Ana had called in from the garden–she'd shyly taken to the pet name, something that pleased the old dragon and made him laugh–"I just finished watering–"

The girl poked her head into the house. What greeted her was a familiar, chilling scene.

The hearth was untended, its fire low. The house was completely silent and devoid of life. And there, slumped over on the couch, a figure sat still. The nightmare was real, and it had happened again.

When she approached the grey, dead dragon, she expected to see a slit across his throat. But his body was unmarred. He'd died of natural causes, or something similar. That was what she told herself as she looked at him, her shocked gaze soon turning impassive and dull.

But dragons didn't die of old age. Not in this world, not anymore. They could live for hundreds and hundreds of years and show little sign of physical aging. All the grey dragons in this world were products of constant stress and adrenaline, not age. But even that didn't kill them.

No matter how old they looked, there wasn't a single dragon in this world over a hundred years old. All the ancients had been killed long ago, and no one survived that long anymore.

So how could he die of old age?

Each dragon species had their own preferred method of removal after death. She'd learned about that in her home-schooling. Fire dragons were cremated, water dragons buried at sea, earth dragons returned to the ground, ice dragons preserved in labyrinths of frost beneath the frozen lakes.

Wind dragons, usually, had a grand procession and a celebration of their life as they were carried to the top of a mountain and left there to decay among the birds. But the little girl couldn't do that, and she certainly couldn't muster the will to celebrate. So, as respectfully and carefully as she could, she brought him to the garden and lay him among those pretty blue and pink flowers. She'd have to hope that was good enough.

He had made her a doll. A little thing with shiny silver button eyes and floppy limbs. It'd made her laugh to see herself like that. Ana thought about leaving it, and had even set it down next to his body. But at the last moment, she stuffed it into her bag.

That night, she took all the food she could carry and left that little cottage behind. And she didn't look back, unable to gaze upon the body she'd left in the flowerbed.

And that was that.

Strider sighed and opened her eyes, gazing down at the paper, tracing the old dragon's likeness with a claw. After that, there was little left to say.

She did find another home, after a year or so on the road. As she was passing through an outlying cheetah village, two cats, seeing her starving form, plucked her right off the streets and put a good meal into her. They asked questions, but not too many. Analis inferred, listening to their conversations, that they couldn't have children, that they were desperate. But...

They really liked her, and they were sweet. By the time Ana had reached them, her voice was almost gone. Father had taken a bit with him, and Grandfather too. Now, the once-animated girl was very quiet and shy. But they didn't seem to mind the grave little child at all.

She was wary, of course. It wasn't the same sort of bliss she'd had with Grandfather. But when a month passed, and then another month, and then a year, she began to get comfortable. That was a mistake.

When the apes came, she was nine or ten. She'd been on the outskirts of the village, kicking a ball around, when the alarm horn sounded. Ana looked up as it cut off, and the alarm-blower slumped and fell out of the watchtower, an arrow piercing his heart.

She hid in the forest, covering her ears to block out the screams. This isn't happening, she thought. It isn't real.

When she went back, night had fallen, but it was as bright as any day. The village was burning. Impassively she stepped over corpses, some charred, some clutching their stomachs or throats with their blood spilt on the ground.

She stepped into the place that had once been her home, the hut on the outskirts of the village. Now, she couldn't recognize it anymore. A flaming beam had caved in and taken out a wall, and the long, dry tufts of grass that covered the roof were long gone.

They were there, those two cheetahs that had briefly been her parents. But their eyes were wide and glassy, their throats as wide open as Father's had been.

Ana went to the remnants of her room, collected her belongings, and left. Silently, she flew through the streets of the city and entered the forest once more. She didn't stop at any town or cottage again.

Her voice was gone.

It was nearing sunset when Cedric found her, still perched on the flat top of the building. She glanced at him, wondering how he'd climbed up there. Seeing her question, the mole grinned at her and winked.

"How're you doin'?" Cedric asked amiably, to which Strider shrugged and turned her gaze back over the city.

They sat quietly for a bit. The mole shifted, seeming almost awkward, a first for the loud boy. But his voice soon broke the silence.

"Have you heard about Fighter?" Before Strider could nod–Auren had already relayed the news of her sickness–he shook his head. "Not that she's sick. What happened this morning."

The black dragon tilted her head, so Cedric continued, "The Guardians have been combing the city, interrogating everyone. Got all sortsa search parties in the woods. Turns out..." The mole looked around, and leaned in, "She was gone! Still half-dyin' from sickness, so somebody must've kidnapped her!"

Strider sat up in alarm. She'd already been worried about her friend–but kidnapping? That was something else entirely!

Cedric was secretly pleased at having riled up impassive Strider, but he quelled his smile. Fighter was in real danger. "There's no news yet," he continued somberly. "We'll just have'ta keep an eye out, and hope for the best." The boy shrugged. "We gave her that nickname for a reason, right? She'll keep fighting 'til she gets back.

"Anyway." Cedric nodded and stood. "Auren's real worked up and in a tizzy at home, so we haven't been going very often. Sometimes it's just me." He glanced at Strider, but her face had gone emotionless again, and she turned away. "Hope I'll see you there," he pressed, to no effect.

Finally, the mole teenager turned. "Alright," he said, as if she'd spoken. "See you."

And so Strider was left alone, her face darkened by stormclouds as she gazed stonily over the city. First... Father, then Grandfather, then the cheetah couple... And now her friends were the ones in danger. Fighter might be dead. Who would be next?

The dragon hadn't spoken aloud in many a year, and she'd become so used to it that she rarely even thought in direct words anymore. Her thoughts were pictures and memories, and for the most part, that was all.

But for the first time in a while, these words came into her head, a snake wriggling its way into her thoughts and infecting her with doubt.

I am a curse.

The Story of Fighter

The girl's story, of course, began very long ago, on the outskirts of the Temple where she had woken up beneath the swirling sky. And now it picked up again, late at night in the library she'd spent many comfortable days in. But she was not comfortable now. Quite the opposite.

"You must tell us what happened."

Ignitus' pleas were not even met with a stare, only with crossed arms. The girl glared hard at the wall, jaw set. She hadn't said a word the whole night. Despite the Guardians' interrogation, she remained steadfast in her silence.

"May I go to bed now?" the girl asked, not breaking her death stare with the wall.

"Not until you tell us why you disappeared!" Ignitus said sternly. He sighed, resuming his pacing. "We've already called the doctor anyhow."

The girl looked away. "I'm fine."

"Those burns need to be treated," Terrador pointed out calmly. He was the only one of the three who didn't seem to be too worked up, at least not externally. The other Guardians had been asking questions relentlessly.

The girl reached up to touch her neck, wincing at the still-sore electric burns snaking around her neck. Seeing her pain, Volteer stepped forward and said kindly, "That looks quite wounded, damaged, perhaps if you let us see we could–"

"No!" she cried sharply, surprising everyone, even herself. Jetting out of the chair, she backed into a dark corner. "I don't want to talk about what happened! So leave me alone!"

Everyone was exhausted, but even the patient fire Guardian looked to be at his wits' end. "I'm absolutely certain you didn't just run away," he stressed. "You could barely even walk, and besides, you'd never leave your sword behind!"

Her eyes widened. She'd been putting heavy implications down that she had left on her own, but he was right, and they all knew it. That girl never, ever left home without her sword. She sat down, but her walls were crumbling, her hands shaking.

Ignitus saw this, and he continued, "So I must come to the conclusion that you were kidnapped. Who did it?"

She had fully retreated back into her stony expression again. But, knowing that the gig was up, she sighed and relented, "Just let it go. Leave him alone."

"It was Tarrok, wasn't it?"

She froze, then frowned, but the Guardian noticed her slight. "Where did he go?" he demanded. "That cheetah has caused you enough harm; he must be brought to justice." The girl was silent and seething, so he continued, "Alright, then we'll send out guards after him–"

"Maybe I don't want him to be brought to justice!" she snapped. Everyone gaped at her, wondering if she'd been hypnotized. "I just want everyone to forget Tarrok and leave him alone!"

When nobody spoke, all too flabbergasted by her defense of the cheetah who'd been harassing her constantly, she stood and shouted with a stomp of her foot, "I'm the one who got kidnapped! I'm the victim! So I get to decide what happens to the kidnapper, and I say let him go!"

The four Guardians were still recovering from this paradoxical tirade when a blue head poked around the corner.

"Hello?" Zara greeted carefully. "I let myself in, if that's alright...?"

The Guardians, shrugging, dispersed. There was little information to be gleaned from the girl, and it was late. So it was just Zara and the child in the library, as the former set down his bag and got out the medical equipment.

"You didn't have to come," the girl grumbled, standing with her arms crossed. "I'm fine."

"Sit," Zara said, so sternly and yet so jovially that she found herself following his command.

The doctor approached. "May I?" he asked, and at the girl's nod, he pulled back the cloth around her neck to get a better look. There was a jagged red mark across her neck, peeling and blistering, the inflamed red skin screaming. She cringed as he pushed her neck up, stretching the sore skin.

"This is... an electrical burn," the dragon said carefully. "However, it's very odd... Circular all the way around the neck, but no charring, no large blisters..."

The girl grimaced. "He made... Some sort of collar. It shocks you when you get too far away." Similar to Spyro and Cynder's collar, though they hadn't zapped each other...

Remembering, she held up the contraption which she'd been holding tightly to the whole night. Zara took it and squinted, pondering. "Somehow, it reminds me of ape handiwork..."

"Well," he said finally, setting it on the table, "Never mind. All things considered, it's a mild burn. You, er... hoo-mans have no protective hide, just skin. Anything worse, and you'd be in bad shape.

"So," he continued, rifling through his bag, "My prescription: Make sure to soak that wound in warm water once a day, then apply this salve." He tossed a small bottle at her and winked. "You'll be alright, young one."

His smile faded then. "Do you have any other injuries?"

"Just a few bruises," the girl answered. She quickly averted her eyes. "I'm really not worth all this trouble..."

Zara patted her head. "Nonsense," he said cheerfully.

The doctor began packing up his things, leaving the girl to ruminate in her chair. As he was about to leave, he glanced back. Seeing her darkness, the dragon smiled slightly. "We'd all miss you if you hadn't returned, child. And nobody wants to see you suffer. So please don't blame yourself."

She gazed up at him, and Zara smiled, nodding. "Farewell, child."

And then he was gone. She listened to the front door shut and closed her eyes.

The girl sat there until the wick of the candle had almost burned down. Reaching over, she blew the candle out and stood in the darkness. As she headed into the living room, there was the scene that had become so familiar to her: Ignitus sitting in the living room, looking weary, only a candle to light the darkness.

She sat down across from him, and they regarded each other in silence. The girl, though she didn't have his powers, already knew the question that was in his mind.

"Tarrok isn't a bad person," she said softly. "He's..." She opened her mouth, and then, sighing, closed it. "We're not that different."

The fire Guardian was prepared to point out all the ways that they were, in fact, different, but she cut him off. "He made mistakes," she said quickly. "Bad ones. But he made them because, in a twisted way, it helped him to protect something that he loved." The girl tilted her head. "Haven't I done the same thing?"

Ignitus watched her carefully, remembering the train. "Have you?"

She looked away. "I have. And, if it meant protecting the ones I loved, I would go to all the lengths Tarrok did." The girl closed her eyes. "Maybe that makes me just as bad as him, but I don't care. Just..."

She looked up at him imploringly. "Please, let him go."

Ignitus' expression was imperceptible, but finally, he gave a minute shrug. "Alright. If that is what you want."

The girl stood. "I promise I'll tell you everything that happened to me, soon," she said sincerely. "But, for now, just trust me... Tarrok deserves a chance to make things right."

Her gaze turned out the window, to the starry sky just visible above the wall. In the distance, she could spot a silhouette up there. "I don't know what he's going to do to accomplish that, but... I know he won't be coming back to Warfang for a long time. Please don't worry."

It wasn't long after that that Ignitus finally went to bed and the girl went out. She was exhausted after her long ordeal, to be sure, but her friends needed to know she was alright. No doubt the Guardians had made all of Warfang aware of the search.

But when the girl clambered up onto the wall, she found only Strider there. The black dragon sat, back to her, her gaze over the forest. But she inclined her head in the girl's direction to acknowledge her presence.

"Hey, Strider," she greeted. "Only you tonight? Well, I guess it's just you and me."

The girl plopped down next to the dragon and made herself comfortable. "I'm sure you heard about what happened," she continued. "I was kidnapped, it's true. But I'm alright now. I'll tell the whole story once we have everyone together," the girl laughed. "Telling a story the second time is never as fun."

In Strider's presence, people often found themselves rambling, perhaps to make up for the lost side of the conversation. Either way, the dragon didn't mind much. Outside observers saw her as aloof, but... The teenager liked to listen.

Though tonight, she was somber. Strider felt nothing but relief to see her friend alive, but... Still, she had to go through the ordeal of being kidnapped. And somehow... it was her fault. It had to be. Everyone she'd ever met, every life she'd ever touched, had been blackened with death or fear.

"Um... Strider?"

The brooding girl snapped out of her thoughts and turned her silver eyes on her friend, who had edged closer. "Is something wrong?"

At that, the dragon quickly shook her head, turning back to the landscape. The girl sat a moment, staring down at the ground with her hands clasped, and finally said, "Forgive me if I'm over-stepping any boundaries by saying this..."

Strider cast a glance at her as she continued, "But I recognize that look on your face." The girl smiled sadly, still gazing at the ground. "So, I don't know why you would do this, and you certainly shouldn't, but–"

The child's eyes turned up and she sat forward, beseeching, "If for any reason you are, please don't blame yourself for what happened to me."

The older girl started with a blink, then quickly looked away. Was she really that easy to read?

"Anyway," she said quickly, "That's only if you are, for any reason. Don't mind it if you aren't."

The two lapsed into silence. The moons shone bright and deep tonight, lighting the city up clearly. Far beyond Warfang, the forest loomed, its darkness impenetrable even by that light. In the approaching winter, all the frogs and crickets had disappeared, and people went home earlier, so it was incredibly quiet.

"Um." The girl began to trace the cloth on her wrist with a gloved hand, fidgeting. "This is kind of random, but... I've had it on my mind for a while."

She squirmed in place a moment, then finally burst out, "I used to be like you. Silent, I mean." Strider finally looked at her, interested. Someone like her? Was that possible?

"I think I was nine or so," she continued. "Mom had just run off, and Dad..."

The child bit her lip. She'd become long numb to the physical and emotional pain, but recalling those first few years still left her feeling hollow. "Dad started drinking and hitting me. Only a little bit, every other week or so for a while... But the first time...

"I was so scared," the girl said emphatically. "I can barely even think that was in the same lifetime now... But I was so, so scared. I thought it was me, you know? He'd always hit me after I said something. So I began to think..." She smiled bitterly, the memory of the terror in her eyes, "What if I never said anything at all?"

Her frightened smile faded. "That only made it worse. He started slapping me if I wouldn't talk, which only made me even more scared. For a few years... I never said a word. I couldn't.

"It was my sister who brought my voice back." This time, the smile was tender and real. "She was always so careful about me. She'd never force me to talk, or beg, or cry. She just waited. Eventually, I started whispering just to her, a little bit more each time. And then..."

The girl's gaze turned to the starry sky. "I found my voice again."

Strider considered this for a while. Though she loved the gang, loved the nights she spent at this place, she had found it hard to grow close to the others. Anything they may have had in common... Well, it's not like they could talk about it together. It's not like she could tell them.

In a way, she'd liked that. There would always be that gap between anyone she met, and they'd never be able to get too close. Because getting too close to her meant getting hurt. But now, having someone who understood why she couldn't speak...

After a long time, the girl spoke again. "People may want you to change," she said in her grave voice, "But please just take your time. And..."

She turned to the dragon and smiled earnestly. "I hope someday you'll find someone who can bring back your voice too."

They didn't speak anymore, but that was alright. There was nothing that needed to be said aloud; the girl could feel Strider's heart saying, Thank you. They stayed there together on the wall until grey light filled the sky, content just existing in each other's presence, just being there.

Neither of them knew it yet, but with the dawning of that pretty silver morning, The End was only just beginning. But they held on to that night, and they never let go.

Chapter Text

After the two weeks of adventures, the gang was collectively tired. Things had changed among each of them, though there were no words to explain exactly what had happened those few days.

The girl, though she was not afraid of Tarrok, still was often checking the locks or waking up from a snowy nightmare. Serena spent her nights staring out the window, feeling like she'd forgotten something. And Cedric found himself gazing longer and longer out at the road each time he climbed the wall.

Mostly, they just wanted a chance for everything to settle down and go back to normal. But they'd long missed their chance for normalcy. They all stood on the threshold, teetering, ready to spiral down, down, at the slightest gust of wind.

And then the push came.

The night was still young when Serena climbed up onto their spot, looking somber. Nobody noticed at first, not even the observant girl. But when they realized that she hadn't even said hello, nor reached in to partake in the snack-feast, everyone turned to her.

"What's the matter?" Tyren asked kindly. He'd just turned seven, and the somewhat quiet boy decided that since he was grown up now, he'd start speaking up a lot more.

Serena looked dully at the little dragon, and at once her eyes welled up with tears. Seeing this, everybody rushed over to comfort the fragile girl as she burst into sobs.

They all pressed her to tell them what was wrong, but the cheetah was inconsolable. Finally, once they'd all quieted, she wiped at the tearstreaks in her fur.

"I..." Serena looked like she was about to lose it again, but she put on a brave face to hold the tears in. "I'm leaving Warfang."

They all stared for a moment, wondering if they'd understood what she had said. Finally, Auren managed to open his mouth. "What do you mean?"

The cheetah girl sniffled and drew a breath to steady her voice. "Auntie hadn't come for so long," she explained. "I thought she abandoned me at the orphanage. But it turns out... She was in Avalar making arrangements. Grandma agreed to take us in."

She clasped her paws as the others stared, the realization dawning on them. "I don't want to leave, b-but... The orphanage is so horrible... And Auntie wouldn't leave me; she's been living in refugee shelters..."

Serena's brown eyes were sparkling with tears again. "It isn't fair!" she cried. "Oh, it's just not fair!"

The girl suddenly understood how her friend was feeling. They were both in similar positions. Two sides of a coin, both containing people they loved. An impossible choice.

But, even with her friends beside her, Serena was suffering in Warfang. Under the mistress' critical eye, she could never truly be happy. Though the nights spent together were bliss, it wouldn't be enough to change that.

She crawled over and put a black gloved hand on Serena's shoulder. "You have to go," she said gently, finding that her own voice was cracking. "You shouldn't have to live at the orphanage anymore."

Dark brown met steady black, and Serena crumpled. "I always thought I would rejoice the day I got to leave the orphanage," she said tearfully. "But... I didn't know... I didn't know it would hurt so much!"

They all huddled together, holding their friend who, in their minds, was already fading. Soon enough, she'd be gone. But for now, her kind soul was still here, that essence that shone as bright as the moons. So they held on tight as if to never let go.

Soon, they were sitting in their normal positions, staring glumly at the lantern's fire. It was Cedric who asked the question none of them dared to: "When are you going?"

Serena cast her eyes to the ground. "In five days," she said quietly. "On the fifth morning, I'll be gone."

That week slipped by in moments for the girl, falling like sand through her fingers. When the Guardians caught her at home, she was pensive, fidgety, unable to read and barely even picking at her food.

But she didn't spend a lot of time at the house those few days. They all decided to cast away the unspoken rule of only meeting at night, for everyone's sake. They spent both days and nights together, drinking in each other's company, the last time the misfits would ever be whole again.

Nothing special happened. It was typical shenanigans, while guards and citizens alike squinted at the odd group. There were no trains, and certainly no ravines... But they were happy just exploring the city together. Talking, laughing, like they'd all just met again.

It was pure bliss, those few days. But on the horizon, dread loomed.

And then it was the night before Serena was going to leave.

Their smiles were false and hollow. Their laughs were forced. But they were trying. Even Strider, who always let her displeasure show, mustered a small smile whenever she caught Serena looking at her. But they were all glum, and as the night waned, they only brooded more.

The girl was lost in her own thoughts and worries. She was concerned for Serena... Avalar was one of the first settlements to be attacked. Of course, had the girl never come, the Meeting would have gone on without her, and Serena would have moved to Avalar eventually anyway...

But she had certainly affected Serena's life. Just one difference, one word, one conversation... And she could end up a casualty. It wasn't unreasonable.

Serena would be leaving soon to spend her final night in that dingy bed in the orphanage. She could see it on her face. So she made up her mind. While everyone was distracted, she scooted over and tugged on the cheetah's brown dress.

"Serena?" she whispered. "Can we take a walk real quick?"

The cheetah blinked, but she nodded. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, the two slid down the wall and landed on the shorter guard-wall below.

They walked in silence for a while, the girl mustering her courage. Luckily the guard-wall spanned miles straight across the city, like wheels on a cart, so they didn't need to stop.

Finally, the girl spoke. "This is going to sound weird..." she began hesitantly. "Like, really, really weird. I just need you to listen, okay?"

Serena looked on with big brown eyes as her friend said, "This summer, um... There's going to be a lot of dangerous creatures popping up around Avalar. Right after that, the purple dragon is going to show up at your village. When he does, these creatures are going to raid Avalar."

She looked away from Serena's inquisitive stare. "I don't know if anyone's going to die. I'm just telling you... Please be careful. Don't wander around Avalar alone, and don't put your life in danger during the battle."

"Um..." The cheetah girl tilted her head. She was the sort of creature who saw the best in people, so she didn't jump to the conclusion that her friend was mental, but she was still rather confused. "Thank you for the warning, but... How do you know this?"

The girl thought about ending the charade right then and there. She could drop her hood, show Serena her real face. Explain like she had with Auren. She knew Serena; she would be kind and understanding, even more so than the boy had been.

But...

She probably wouldn't see Serena again. That much she felt in her heart. If they didn't find the Chronicler by the time the siege of Warfang began... It was very likely she'd be one of the many casualties.

And even if not, they could locate the island at any point. For all she knew, they'd already sent out scouts. As soon as they found it, she'd have to go. She'd have to. If time was passing normally on Earth, then Lily had been through enough torture. A year alone with Dad...

But that meant this was the end. It might just be the last time she'd ever see Serena. And, if it ended like that... If their final goodbye left Serena knowing that their friendship had been a lie, and that was the very last memory she'd have of her...

She couldn't do that.

So the girl said quickly, "Ignitus told me. You know he's special, right? He can read minds and see glimpses of the past and future and... stuff."

"Ohh," Serena said cheerfully. "That makes sense! I heard about that, but I wasn't sure if it was true."

Is it even? she thought. She had no clue if he could see the future at all. That was the Chronicler. "It is," she said with a weak smile.

They returned to the wall, and the night resumed without a hitch. Nobody even thought of going to bed. Desperation kept them awake. But as the hours wore on, and the eastern horizon brightened, Serena's eyes began to droop.

Finally, she said the dreaded words, "I guess I should go home. I'll need to get up early today. When the sun's edge leaves the horizon, she'll be coming for me."

Everyone gazed sadly at her, unsure of what to say. How could they say goodbye to their Serena, who was always there to give a smile or a kind word? How could they?

Tyren stepped out from under Auren's wing and walked over, nudging under her arm and laying his head on her brown dress. "I'll miss you."

This was too much for poor Serena. She'd been doing her best to stay strong, but she couldn't help it. "I'll miss all of you!" she cried, hugging Tyren. "I don't want to leave!"

Auren looked worried, turning away to the distant forest. "It won't be the same without you," he muttered. But he looked up, his eyes on fire. "But I promise, we won't replace you! We couldn't. When you come back, we'll all be waiting."

Cedric nodded, nudging Strider. "The two of us may be flighty, but I know we'll always return. As much bloody trouble as it's brought us, we couldn't ditch the Meeting forever. Right, Strida?"

She nodded. Her mother was out there somewhere, but... she could never forget this place.

The girl was mute. She couldn't make that promise. But she looked up and smiled, tears in her own dark eyes. "We'll never forget you, Serena. Once the war is over, please at least visit us again. There'll always be someone here waiting for you."

That, at least, she could promise. She knew, even once she was gone, the Meeting would live on.

Serena sniffled, her sobs quelled for the moment. "Thank you all," she said softly, her voice choking. "Thank you for making me happy in the months I've been here. I know, without this place, I wouldn't have felt like I was living at all."

She clutched her arms and leaned forward, managing a faint smile even as her tears hit the stone. "So... I'll come back here someday... I'll come back, and we can all be together again! Don't forget that!"

The girl couldn't help it then. She knew that wasn't true; she would never see Serena again. The child burst into tears, running over and wrapping the cheetah into a tight hug. That set off everyone else–though Cedric declared forevermore that he'd hadn't cried "like a girl"–and soon they were pulling Serena into a hug, surrounding her, saying goodbye.

They didn't stay after she left. They all wandered home, feeling hollow, like they'd lost something. And they had. Each one of them knew that the Meeting of Misfits would never be the same again.

The girl, slipping into her house, gave the dark wall a long look. But she turned quickly away, shutting the door behind her.

I was right, she thought bitterly, on the verge of another cry again. Everything... Everything changes.

She had no words for Terrador, who still waited for her even now. He was usually the one to stay up in case of messengers, continuing work they hadn't time for in the day, so it wasn't just for her... But she needed it. Just his presence made her feel a little better, even as she ascended the stairs into bed.

That was one thing that hadn't changed, she realized. The girl smiled slightly and turned her face into the pillow. One thing.

She didn't really get much resembling sleep those few hours she lay there. The girl drifted in and out of daydreams, 'til finally, the early morning sun began to peek through the window. In the pale gold light she sat up with a sigh and gazed outside.

She couldn't see the sun. That meant that it hadn't risen over the horizon yet, and Serena was still in Warfang.

Maybe...

They'd said their goodbyes. That was it; that would be the bitter end. Prolonging it would only make it hurt more. But if Serena was still here, maybe she could catch her. A thrill filled her, and the girl rose. Not even bothering to put on her clothes or grab her sword, she jetted out the window, landing on a lower part of the roof.

Cyril, who had already risen, heard a thump and stared in confusion at the ceiling.

The girl leapt off the end of the roof and caught a long, slender tree branch. She managed to pull herself up and walk precariously to the trunk. With this done, she stepped over to a thick, sturdy branch on the other side. Then, bracing herself, she jumped. The wall was close, and though one foot slipped, she managed to catch herself.

Then she ran.

Casting a glance to her right, the girl saw that the sun was rising quickly. Now, its bottom had breached the horizon. So she pushed herself harder, brushing past a guard who squalled in confusion but didn't even bother chasing the black blur.

It was an easy matter of jumping from the east to the north wall–the watchtower took up the corner–and running westward, jumping wood beams and dodging unmanned cannons. She was approaching the gates, and she saw the moles there grunting as they fussed with the cranks. The doors were slowly closing.

The great oaken gate that she'd stepped through so long ago finally shut with a resounding bang. She was too late.

In a panic, the girl turned her gaze to the northern horizon, to the road that sloped through grasslands, between stumps of trees that had once stood tall. It looked like it took minutes to close that great barrier. Serena might already be gone.

But as her eyes scanned the land, she saw her, not too far away. Riding in a carriage pulled by horses–she didn't even know there were horses in this world–the blue girl sat. Beside her, there was her aunt, looking regal and tired.

Serena was beautiful, the girl realized then, almost like a princess. The epitome of decorum. She'd always looked like a bit of a waif in that drab brown orphanage uniform, with her fur a bit unkempt–they'd probably have to fight over the bathroom in that overcrowded building–and her eyes dulled by sadness.

But now she sat with her fur cleaned and brushed shiny, in a pretty red and gold robe befitting someone of her nature. Even from here, she could see those eyes burning bright, finally unchained from drudgery.

The girl hadn't realized. She'd never belonged.

She didn't know if she was even going to call out; she would have been happy just to watch her roll away, poised with her head high. But it was Serena who turned back, maybe just to gaze one last time at Warfang. The cheetah saw the girl standing at the wall, the sun blazing at her right, and she wasn't even sure if she was real or not. If perhaps she was an angel.

The girl raised her arm and waved, one last salute for her dear friend. A slow smile grew on Serena's pretty face, and she waved back, beaming with all her might.

And then the carriage rounded a corner and they were gone.

She lowered to her knees, still watching the place where Serena had disappeared as the sun rose over it. But now, there was a small smile on her face. Their parting had gone from a tragedy to just bittersweet.

Serena could be happy now. In Avalar, she would have a chance at freedom. And, even if the girl was gone when she returned, they would have that last goodbye to remember.

It was enough.

Those next few days were quiet. Everybody looked glum, and the girl and Auren were often alone together, once a rare occurrence. Even she wanted to just sleep off the dull, hollow ache Serena's passing had left, but she knew that Auren would need somebody.

They didn't usually speak, though. The boy stared dully at the horizon, his maw curled into a grimace, and the girl usually just lay on her back and stared at the sky.

She was sitting with her head rolled to the side, gazing at the place where Serena had once sat. Next to her, on the right, in the inner edge of the wall. Not too long ago, they'd all sat at their places, but now those spots lay empty.

That was when Auren spoke, shaking his head. "It shouldn't have been this way."

The girl sat up; her friend talking at a time like this was a big deal. "Serena?" Auren nodded, so she continued gently, "She had to go back. The way they were treating her in that horrid orphanage... It's better this way."

Auren was mute, so she continued, "She needed to go home."

Finally, a bit of emotion sprung into his eyes. Anger, but not at the girl, flared red hot and melted his ice blue eyes. "But we needed her. Without Serena..."

"This place won't fall apart." The girl scooted over. She hesitated a moment, her hand inches from his scales, but finally put it on his shoulder. "No matter how many people leave, there will always be the meeting."

The boy closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow. "I thought..." He exhaled, unsure how to say it. "I thought we had more time."

Eventually, we all run out of time.

The girl swallowed and forced that memory down. She turned away, hunching over and holding her arms in the cold. "Me too."

But the time of the misfits was over. The sun was rising now, the universal symbol that it was time to go home. And as the girl blinked in the new light, she looked about and saw that her friends were gone.

Things had gone back to something resembling normal.

Cedric spent a lot of his time staring wistfully over the wall, but he returned to the meeting again. Tyren came as often as he could–though with school, he spent many nights sleeping–and Strider stayed close too. The typically reclusive girl was often drawing in the corner.

That was what she was doing that night, sketching in the dark. Cedric hadn't arrived with his lantern yet, so the girl had no idea how she could draw in this light. Nor could she see the subject matter, for the dragon kept one paw carefully shielding the paper.

But besides Strider's mysteriousness, it was normal. They were laughing again. And Cedric, standing on the guard wall below, was looking up at them with a mute expression. He knew what he had to do, but his legs just wouldn't carry him.

He thought about going home. One more night. But he knew, if he didn't do it now, he never would. The time had come. So he found himself ascending the wall, being pulled up by Fighter.

Auren noticed immediately the bag the mole carried, usually left behind at... wherever he lived. His smile was small and questioning. "What's that, Cedric? Planning an expedition for us... perhaps to another ravine?"

Cedric didn't sit, and the normally proud boy averted his eyes. "No. I came to say goodbye."

They all froze. Even Strider looked taken off-guard.

"Goodbye?" Auren laughed, his wide eyes desperate. "You'll be back soon, right? Just taking a little trip, right?"

The mole was silent. He looked up, head tilted, and Auren's expression fell.

Finally, Cedric shrugged. "I'm a nomad," he laughed. "Living in Warfang has been nice, but it ain't home. I've been here a year, and with the gang breaking up–"

"But it doesn't have to break up!" the ice dragon cried. "We'll do fine without Serena! But if you go too..."

Cedric sighed and shook his head. "It'll never be the same."

Auren slumped. He knew that his friend was right.

"But Cedric," the girl cried, "It's nearly winter; you'll freeze to death! At least wait until spring!"

The boy shook his head. "I've lived through many snows before. I'll be alright."

"Stay until morning..." she insisted, looking up at him with worried eyes. But Cedric wouldn't hear it. If he didn't go now, if he let himself stay even one night, he knew that he never would.

But the younger boy seemed suddenly reinvigorated. He managed to flash a grin their way. "I won't forget about this place, y'know. I'll come back when the road brings me here. 'All roads lead to Warfang', right? So..." His toothy smile was sad now. "Save a spot for your old friend Cedric, will ya?"

Suddenly overtaken by emotion, the girl exclaimed, "We will, we will!" as she held back her tears.

Cedric nodded. "A'ight then. Well, I came through the north gate, so I s'pose I'm headed south. Then..." He made a grand sweeping bow, his signature grin plastered on his face all the way. "Farewell, fellow misfits! May we meet again someday!"

They watched him go, tramping towards the southern wall, 'til the night fog swallowed his lantern. All of them looked at where he had disappeared for a long time, hardly able to believe it. Cedric was gone.

Everyone sat there numbly for a long time, unable to muster up the will to smile or laugh as they had been. They just couldn't believe it. Auren, though the funniest of them all, had his mood swings. But Cedric had never failed to make them smile, to lead the charge into their silly antics.

Without him, the light was going dark.

Auren and the girl didn't notice Strider, who seemed to be drawing with more passion than ever. But finally, she looked down and saw that her work was complete. So, gently folding it and putting it away, the teenager stood.

The boy saw this immediately. "Don't tell me you're going too," he said savagely, scowling.

Strider looked back mutely. And the two saw it in her silver eyes that glinted sorrowfully like a pool in the night. She was saying goodbye in the only way she knew how.

"No..." The word escaped Auren before he could catch it, and he cried in despair, "Not you too! Strider, please..."

But the dragoness had long made up her mind. Her mother was out there somewhere, waiting. And there was nothing left for her in Warfang. With the misfits dispersing, it would be easy enough to detach herself and go, so she stepped towards the edge and prepared to glide down.

But before she could leave, the girl stepped forward. "So..." she said, her eyes glimmering with tears, "This is goodbye?"

Strider looked away, but she nodded.

Suddenly, the black dragon found herself pulled into a hug. She sat there, eyes wide in shock, as her friend held her close. How could someone miss her passing that much? Why should she even care?

The girl didn't burst into tears or into a sobbing speech. She just held her friend close for a few moments, and then let her go. "Don't forget us, please," the girl said. She leaned in close and whispered, "I don't know how long I'll be here in Warfang, so for Auren's sake, please come back someday."

Strider stared at the ground and nodded. She wasn't sure if she was going to, if she could bear to say goodbye again. But she knew now that she would. Like her mother had said, Warfang would be her final destination.

But she couldn't leave now. Not like this.

So the dragon reached into her pack and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. She brushed past the girl to hand it to Auren, who stared mutely at the ground. He didn't look at her, but he took it and held it tightly in a clawed fist.

Then Strider came to the girl. She looked hesitant, like she wasn't quite sure, but finally she reached into her bag and pulled out another piece of paper. Anyway, she could always draw another. She still had their faces.

Gently, she pressed it into her hand and closed her fingers, shaking her head at her friend's questioning stare. The girl understood that she meant to not open it yet.

Then, the dragon turned. Losing scarcely a beat, she hopped off the edge of the wall and glided down. The girl realized then why she was called Strider as she watched that graceful, perfectly balanced dragon fly. The wind seemed to heed her command, the trees swaying away as she neared, even the moons bowing at her approach.

She landed in the tall grass, and they almost lost her, but the black speck reappeared. Looking like she was dancing, dancing away, each stride of her slender legs in perfect form, the dragon disappeared into the forest.

The girl always imagined her like that from then on. Dancing through the woods, weaving effortlessly through the trunks, so light that she could run right over water if she tried.

And thus, as quietly as Strider had come, she returned to the forest from whence she came.

~~...~~

She didn't touch the paper until she got home that night. Auren had left silently, looking sullen, and the girl soon after. She stayed for a while, like Cedric might come walking back, Strider dance backwards to the wall, Serena dash in on horseback.

But the night was silent and empty.

With a candle struck in the seclusion of her room, she finally unfolded the paper, her hands shaking slightly.

And she was back on the wall again that first night, a little girl in the shadow of her new friends. There she was on this paper, its lines light with months' aging, looking shy and trepid, yet curious, leaning in to the light cast off by these strange people.

She saw now the weight that had been bearing down on Cedric and Strider all this time. The former lay carelessly on the ground, a lazy grin on his face, fearless. And the dragon was sketching busily away, though she was unsmiling, a change from the slightly-more-cheerful Strider that had often greeted them lately. The dragoness had changed.

Auren sat with Tyren, the two pressed together, one with a dashing grin and the other with a sweet, winning smile. Even Auren had been lighter then, more happy, carefree. Here they were, all together again, for the first and last time.

She realized then, staring down at this image, that those days were gone. The gang would never be fully reunited again.

One by one they'd trickle in. A few meetings there, a hello, how-are-you-doing. Strider and Cedric might meet on the road, Serena might return to Auren alone. But they wouldn't be whole anymore, just scraps of what once was.

Well... Perhaps as adults they'd manage to meet up. She could imagine that. Ten years in the future, they'd all come home.

Serena would be a fully gracious beauty, wearing only the prettiest silks that matched her flowing, kind demeanour. No more orphan rags for her; only the best that she deserved. And a published author too, all set to change the world.

Cedric would meander his way back to Warfang and meet them. Well, he wouldn't have changed in height very much, but his free spirit will have only grown taller. He'd still be looking a bit scruffy, and he'd still have that trademark toothy grin, but he'd be a bit more mature. Just a bit.

Strider too would return. Maybe she'd be talking a bit by then, or maybe not. Either way, perhaps she'd found whatever it was she had been looking for. Perhaps her days on the road would be over, and she'd be ready to settle down in Warfang, where she belonged.

Tyren would be just a teenager then, and probably a lot like Auren. A bit more serious, and more sweet than sarcastic, but just as silly, just as brave. He'd be a true prodigy by then, perhaps at the head of the world's transition to the industrial age.

And Auren... Well, Auren wouldn't change very much. For some reason, she couldn't imagine anything beyond the comical, grinning boy, forever young.

But someone would be missing.

She could imagine herself here ten years from now. Yes, she truly could. She'd grown out of that lanky teenage body, and though her face was still a bit babyish, perhaps her big, childish eyes would at least fit her head by then. And she'd carry herself much taller, still with that sword at her back.

She'd have fought alongside the Guardians, defended Warfang valiantly, and lived to tell the tale. Maybe she'd have joined up with Addison. With all her eavesdropping, she might make a great spy. Joined the guards perhaps, once the war ended.

Or, even if she became no hero... Whatever she chose to do, she'd have lived to see history made.

But that wasn't meant to be. Ten years from now, she'd be twenty-six, living a mundane life in the human realms. If even she'd be alive once she made it back.

There was nothing for her there. When people asked her what she wanted to be, teachers prodded her to pick a career, worksheets asked to describe herself five years from now, she'd stared blankly. Because, even at that age, she knew the truth. There wasn't a future for someone like her at all.

If it wasn't for Lily tethering her to Earth... Well, she wouldn't have lived to see her sixteenth birthday anyway. Car crash or not.

She'd made up her mind that that wasn't an option long ago, but even so, her future had always lain dark and blank before her, a void. Either way, she wouldn't be here. When they met again ten years after, her spot would be empty.

There would be no Meeting anymore. At least not for her.

And that fact left her staring numbly at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep, unable to think. Numb, hollow. She stayed there unblinking until dawn came and light filled the sky.

Chapter Text

"It's just not fair."

The girl stopped her rant to take a cup of tea from Addison, who had held it up wordlessly to her. Sighing, she took a drink and then set it on the stone battlements, but she was nowhere near wound down. "I haven't even been here four months, and already they're gone!"

"The most passionate relationships are often the shortest ones," Addison offered poetically, sitting beside her. "And you still have me, eh, miss?"

She shot him a flat stare. "Too soon."

"Sorry."

The girl grimaced as she gazed at the lights on the mountains, dancing far away in the snow. "You were my first friend in this worl... I mean, in Warfang. That's why you're special. But them..." She leaned forward, one cheek squished by her hand. "They were the signal that I could let go and start a new life now.

"After the raid, I mean," she said quickly. "I could finally move on. New friends, a new city, a new life. And now that's all gone."

Addison looked askance at her. "It's not all gone, miss," he insisted. "Your friends will return, will they not? And you still have the city."

"But for how long," she muttered glumly. How long until she would have to leave Auren and Tyren, break their hearts another time?

The mole blinked. "What do you mean?"

Realizing her slip, the girl sat up straight. "Well, um... It's just... I don't feel like I'll be in Warfang much longer. I can't explain it." She sighed and sipped her tea again. Not even the sweet, savoury drink could soothe her nerves. "I don't want to leave Auren, not after all this, but I feel like I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice," Addison said, tilting his head.

She considered this a moment, but finally shook her head. "The choice was made before I could really decide." And it wasn't really a choice at all.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Addison pondered, but finally, he put his thoughts together. "Well," he laughed slightly. "I can't say I fully understand the circumstances. But from what little I do know, here is my advice for you."

He took a sip of tea and turned his gaze to the heavens. "Keep that Addison-boy close, miss. He's all you have left of your little party, and if it is as you say, perhaps you won't be around forever. So..." The mole closed his eyes. "Instead of dreading the future, make the best of what you have now."

The girl stared down at the cup held on her knees, its pale contents masked by swirling steam. The scout was right, she knew. That was the only thing she could do: try to make the best of what little of the ragtag team was left.

She cast a glance to the right, but the wall was dark and empty. Tomorrow, then, she'd go see Auren. And try to figure out a way to make it right.

But for now, she would stay. She could hold onto this moment just a little longer.

~~...~~

It was the night before. Impossibly calm and peaceful, the skies clear and peppered with stars, the forests quiet and empty, snow falling gently to the ground.

They sat together, but there was a gap between them; something uncertain lingered in the air. For once, Warfang was dead silent, and even the wilderness' song was muted. The crickets had gone to sleep and the frogs sat buried in the warm mud. There was nothing.

This was what it was like now. Tyren, now focused on schoolwork, was too tired to come anymore. Winter break would arrive soon, but not soon enough. Auren wasn't getting any sleep, and his whole character, once animated and bright like a star, was fading.

They didn't talk. The air around them buzzed with the memory of laughter, and they could both feel it. But they didn't speak.

And the girl, though she tried, found herself paralyzed whenever she tried to open her mouth and fix things. How could she repair what her friends' leaving had done? How could she help Auren, who had loved this place so much?

Tonight, though, it was different. A bit of light came into Auren's dull eyes as he stared at the moons, and the words returned to him. His voice cracked when he spoke. "Everyone is leaving."

The girl looked at him, then turned her gaze to her shoes. She knew what was coming. And she wasn't ready to tell him the truth, that she was going, that she would throw this all away in an instant.

"So..." Auren's laugh was hollow, like a vast, empty chamber. "That means it's only a matter of time before everybody is gone, right?"

She couldn't tell the truth; she couldn't break his heart. But could she lie to her dearest friend? "Do you..." The teenager had to swallow, for her voice was hoarse. "Do you think everything will be the same forever?" She couldn't look at him.

Auren blinked and tilted his head. "What are you trying to say?" His voice was emotionless, but his eyes held a question.

"Everything goes away eventually," was her short answer. "Haven't we learned that by now?"

The dragon stared at her, then turned away, shaking his head. "So when will you leave?" he asked flatly, scowling at the forest. He was on the verge of something like crying or screaming, but it didn't seem like he was upset at her. "If it's like that, then you'll go too, right?"

She closed her eyes. Yes, no, yes. Her mind was frantic, defending her choice at one moment and assailing her the next. Lily needed her... She'd been hammering that into her mind for a long time, and it was hard to forget. But, truth was... Auren needed her too.

Narrowing her eyes, the girl moved closer to him, her voice quavering with emotion as she spoke. "Auren... Look at me."

When he wouldn't, she gently brought her hand to his scaled cheek and pushed it towards her. His eyes were electric, dancing, wild as the untamed wilderness. She could barely choke out the words. "I will not leave you."

Was it truth? Was it a lie? She didn't know. But right now, in this moment, she meant every single word.

"I'm not going anywhere," she continued, letting her hand drop. She was cracking, but in her voice there was strength unmatched by the greatest warrior. "As long as you need me, I'll be here. So please don't worry."

The fire in Auren's eyes began to smolder and finally went out. His gaze softened, and he leaned his head on her shoulder. "Thank you."

And, well, there was nothing else to really say.

They sat there a few minutes in the cold, pressing into each other, as if to never let go. The tiny droplets of snow whirled around them, fogging the distant mountains and biting into their skin and scales. Soon enough, the less cold-resistant girl was shivering, the only warm part of her Auren's head on her shoulder.

Noticing this, the boy thought for a moment. But finally, a smile spread on his face. "Let's go somewhere. I want to show you something."

Her teeth were chattering as Auren jetted off into the air, hovering before her. "There's a big patch of soft grass here," the boy called over the growing wind. "Jump down! You'll be fine!"

The girl stared at his sudden change in behaviour, but sure, she was ready for an adventure. "And if I miss?"

"Then I'll catch you!"

"Just like last time, eh?" The girl crossed her arms and stared, one eyebrow raised.

Auren gave her a flat look. He hovered over and tweaked her nose.

The girl made a face and rubbed her nose, but she sighed. "Fine," she said, peering cautiously over the edge. She couldn't see very well as the snowfall was picking up, but there was something down there. Taking a steadying breath, she stepped off the edge.

The fall made her stomach drop, but as Auren said, she landed in a thick patch of soft grass and frosty gold flowers that broke her fall. It left her a little sore, and she'd have to go back through the hole, but she'd be alright.

Auren landed beside her and offered a paw, helping her to her feet. "Ready? C'mon, you'll love the place."

And so off they went, two friends walking side by side into the deep snowdrifts. Through the great grasslands that surrounded Warfang, now covered with snow, next to frozen lakes and ponds with shadows swimming under the ice, and pretty little copses whose leaves were encrusted with sparkling frost, they went.

Once they'd made in deep enough into the forest, the girl slung her hood back and pushed down her mask, laughing as she bared her face to the piercing cold. They ran together, their throats stinging as they gasped in the freezing air, giggling as they fell into the snow and threw snowballs at each other.

They'd never felt so exhilarated. So happy.

Eventually, a steep hill lay before them, just as thickly dotted with trees as the rest of the wintry wood. Up they went, grunting at the climb and slipping on frozen dirt, but finally they made it to the top and collapsed.

Stretched before them was a wide plateau-like hill. A river on the far part ran from east to west, snaking its way back down the hill. But there, in a pretty little clearing to their left, lay a steep waterfall. It splashed down to a valley far below, a quite steep drop it was. Even from here, the girl felt a bit dizzy.

Auren, though, was not afraid. "Here we are," he said, stepping into the thick, unmarred snow as he headed for the waterfall. He plopped down, peering over the edge. "I've been a lot of times. It's my favourite place outside the walls."

"Er... You're getting a little close, there," the girl said uncomfortably, stepping forward. She teetered and finally sat down. The thought of that drop was too much for even her.

The dragon's smile faded and he stared over the edge, something unrecognizable in his eyes. At once, the energy around them disappeared. "I nearly jumped once." His voice was barely a whisper. "Not here. At the cliff, on the ocean. I didn't see Dad do it, but that was where we found the note.

"I don't know what I was thinking." A faint smile graced his maw, like a void. "Mom was starting to lose it. I missed Dad. I wasn't old enough to really understand what I was doing; it just made sense. Kids do stupid things when they're upset."

The boy swallowed, his eyes dead as he stared at the churning river so far below, raging mercilessly at the rocks. "Mom found me. I think that's what broke her. She grabbed me and dragged me off, hysterical all the way home. Wouldn't let me out of the house for a week. Buried all the knives, burned Dad's medicine..."

The girl was speechless during this confession. She rose from her safe place, stepping forward. "Auren..."

"But I kept thinking about it," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken at all. "This time, I knew what it meant. I wondered what it would be like to die. I still wonder."

The girl, suddenly, found herself standing on the edge next to Auren. A few rocks from her shoes bounced down, spun, and splashed into the water. Her hand was on his shoulder, and the dragon reacted to her touch, coming out of his trance.

"I wouldn't do that," he muttered. "Not to Tyren, not to you. I just think about it."

The girl looked down at him. She wanted to say that it would be alright, or that she knew he was brave enough, or that she had thought the same things too. Instead, she burst out, "I know about your dad!"

Clarity suddenly snapped into Auren's eyes and he squinted as the girl stiffened, nearly facepalming. Not exactly the gentle confession she'd had in mind. "How?"

"Er..." She fidgeted, stepping back from the waterfall's edge. "It was Tarrok. He was trying to shock me... And it worked." The girl averted her eyes. "I meant to tell you, but..."

Auren shook his head. "Everyone knows. But I'm fine with you knowing, especially." He took her outstretched hand and they left the quietly bubbling waterfall, the drop that could kill them both. "I just didn't want you to think less of me."

She couldn't stop herself from laughing. "I wouldn't do that. And I'd be a bit of a hypocrite anyway," she said with a confused smile. "Before, I stuck around for a similar reason you did."

They found a nice little incline with no trees around and flopped down there, their shoulders pressed together as they gazed at the stars. Auren looked comical sprawled on his back, and he grinned as the girl giggled at his pose.

The two lay there a while in their little snowbeds, chattering blithely about nothing. The moons hung above them, suspended in the sky like pretty red and green baubles. Their shadows seemed to stretch down the hill. It was a pretty night, and they were glad to be there together. For some reason, it felt important.

But soon, Auren's head fell to the side, his muzzle nearly touching the girl's cheek. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. "Tell me about the human world." His words fogged up in the air, trailing into the sky and disappearing.

She smiled. "What about it?"

"Anything."

She told him about trains–sleek, slick bullet ones that ran off electricity–and planes, and zoos, and amusement parks. She told him about dogs, all kinds of them, and elephants, and all the other creatures she could imagine. And she wasn't sure if he had any idea what she was talking about, but it didn't matter.

She hadn't realized the things she'd missed, the tiny things that had made her smile. Like ice cream, and aquariums–someone had sponsored her on the class trip to Sea World–and video games, and music, and coffee. And Lily, the one who had made the human world truly bearable. Though she was happy here, happier than she'd ever been, her heart yearned for all of these things.

The girl was explaining about modern hospitals, how they'd gone from using leeches and hammers and knives to scalpels and stethoscopes and things she couldn't possibly describe in a way he'd understand.

Auren tilted his head. "Dad would have liked that," he mumbled, yawning. "He was always trying to find better ways to do things."

There was that silence between them again. The girl didn't know what to say; how could she talk about the person who had hurt Auren so much? But she wanted to know more, starving for information.

"What was he like?" she whispered.

The girl thought her voice had been carried away with the snow, until finally, he spoke. "He was always smiling."

Any other time, Auren might have turned away, gone quiet and brooding. But in the dark forest, so far from the oppressive walls, he talked.

He told her everything he could think of. The boy still remembered the early years in Warfang. He'd perch in the window seat and watch all the strange people who came to his father, some sick, some broken. When his father had asked, he'd scrambled to grab tools, and his dad would always pat his head.

After Tyren was laid, that was when they moved, and he was hatched on the banks of the ocean. There were still people, coming all the way out just to see the great doctor, but their main patient was the sickly little boy. That was when Auren started learning how to use the tools that had once been strange and foreign, to care for his kid brother himself. He loved it, and he loved making his father proud.

Dad still patted him on the head, was always there to offer a gentle word or a steady paw. But he stopped smiling. And that was where most of his memories lay, in those days of unsmiling.

There was no telling what it had been; the note didn't say. The constant stress of being a doctor? Fear for Tyren? Self-doubt, guilt? Or just hatred of that endless damned war?

"Sometimes, I can only remember those last months." Auren was staring at the sky impassively, the look on his face he always assumed when talking about the past. "When he stopped smiling. He was always floating around like a ghost. I barely even noticed when he was gone." He closed his eyes. "I like to remember when he smiled, but the memory is fading."

His head rolled to the side again and they looked at each other, black meeting blue, inches away. "Have you ever lost someone?"

The girl faltered a moment, then turned away. "Not exactly. Not to dying. But... My boyfriend."

"What was he like? What happened?" Auren was curious now; his friend never failed to chatter on about her dear sister, or even, scowling, curse her dad, but she hadn't once mentioned a boyfriend.

She thought about this a moment. "He was like you." The child looked over, and for a moment, it was like that boy was laying beside her. His grin was wide and pearly, his black hair wet and matted from playing in the surf.

But when she blinked, he was gone, and Auren was the one at her side. "He was kind of serious, but he was always being silly to make me smile. And, like you," she poked him with a grin, "He could be a bit overdramatic." Her smile faded as she recalled that last night, tucked into their little cave in the rocks. "He..."

Well, she couldn't force the memory down forever. She turned back, staring hard at the dead stars. "He ran away. I had to stay with Lily, so there was nothing we could do. He promised to come back."

Her smirk was bitter and empty. "I didn't live long enough to see if he'd keep that promise."

It was quiet for a while as Auren looked at her and she stared apathetically at the sky. Their breaths fogged up the air, puffs of ice that floated up and faded away.

"Everything changes," she said quietly. The girl glanced over at him. She wanted to reach out, just to touch him to make sure he was still real, but she didn't. "Everything you love, everything that makes you happy... Soon enough, they'll go away. Eventually... it all just comes to an end, right?"

Auren gazed at her silently, head cocked as he thought. But it only took a moment for him to figure out a response, and he seemed like he was realizing something. "Just find more things to love."

She looked at him in surprise. The boy rolled over, reaching a paw out to touch the hand that lay in the snow. "If nothing can remain unchanged... Then, even once everything is gone, you have to find more things that make you happy."

The girl stared at him with big black eyes. "I..." She hadn't thought of it like that before.

Even though her friends were gone, Auren was here, and their memory was in him. Tyren had come to remind her of–but not replace–Lily, someone like a little sibling to her. And though she'd lost her boyfriend, lost those nights where they had watched the distant lights, now she had...

Realizing her cheeks were hot, the girl swiped at her tingling face and closed her eyes, turning back to the stars above. They lay there together until nearly dawn, their hands still clasped, shoulders pressed together. Not talking anymore, but warm and happy and safe.

He was right; she knew that now. Wherever she went on her long journey, there would always, always be something to love, to hold on to. No matter what world she lived in... No matter what happened...

There would always be more.

Chapter Text

It was a day like any other.

She couldn't have known, of course. Nobody could have known. She thought she'd memorized the story and could tell every little detail of Spyro's legend, but this just wasn't in it. It was an afterthought.

The morning started normally enough. The girl was a bit drowsy, but she had slept a little on that hillside in the snow, so she was feeling alright. Tea and reading with Volteer, chatting with Cyril and Terrador... A typical, peaceful day. Ignitus was going to the market, so she joined him. It was beautiful outside, just a bit cloudy with intense blue peeking through the white. On a day like this, it felt like not much could really go wrong.

As usual, Ignitus let her chatter on unhindered. "...And I'm probably going to go see Auren and Tyren later, since he invited me for dinner again. But he wanted me to meet him somewhere first. Wonder why."

The girl pulled out the note from her pocket, fingering the soft parchment. He'd handed it to her during her morning walk, then dashed away without a word.

Meet me at the waterfall at evening's first bell.

-Auren

Unlike Cedric's scrawl, Auren's handwriting was careful and looped–she was pretty jealous as her own attempts produced nothing but chicken-scratch–and though she had no clue why he'd need to meet her there specifically when she was coming over later, she shrugged it off.

The market was as crowded as it had ever been. Last night's snow had left teams of moles grunting as they shovelled it onto the sidewalk, and stallkeepers hadn't yet bothered removing the piles that covered their striped cloth roofs. It left the city sparkling, nearly blinding in the sunlight.

Everything was so pretty and bright that the girl couldn't help but be happy. The sun was shining, the air a pleasant chill. She continued chattering as they made their rounds, browsing the food and wares the great market circle had to offer.

But as she bent down over a jeweller's pretty necklaces, something caught her eye. From the east, some birds were swooping in, so tightly packed that they looked like a big black blob. The girl straightened and covered her eyes from the harsh sun as she squinted into the distance.

They were getting closer, too, and fast. It looked like they were holding something in their talons, so were they messenger hawks carrying a package? If the bloody sun could get out of her face...

The girl's eyes widened and her hand slowly dropped as the creatures swooped in, nearing the wall. Those weren't birds. A chill rushed through her body like a cold arrow piercing her heart, and everything around her seemed to dim with her terror.

She wanted to scream but her breath caught in her throat and she went still. But she managed to reach over and touch Ignitus' shoulder, though her hands were shaking. When he looked at her, she could only point to the horizon, to the drooling furred monsters that were descending like a tsunami on the city.

As the realization dawned on Ignitus' face and at once she felt to be on fire, she opened her mouth to scream the word, but someone else's voice came out.

"DREADWINGS!"

She turned and saw a cheetah pointing at the sky, his mouth still agape. At once, the whole market hushed and followed his pointing finger. For the first time since she had come to Warfang, the child could not hear a single thing.

As they watched the creatures draw closer, the girl could see now what they were carrying, suspended by chains. Metal boxes. Filled with explosives, if she remembered right.

The crowd stared, speechless, as the first Dreadwing dropped its payload on Warfang East, then the next, then the next. The explosions seemed to rock the city, lighting their faces red for just a moment. But nobody could move to run or scream. They were all frozen there, watching as Warfang began to burn.

It was the horns that snapped them out of their trance, from the north-east and north-west watchtowers. Like blaring alarms they resounded over the city, warning that an army was approaching from the north.

And then the market erupted into chaos.

Everybody screamed and scrambled to get into buildings as the bomb sweep drew closer, pushing each other over in their haste. Children screamed and cried as they were separated from their parents. Ignitus snapped into action immediately and ran about yelling for citizens to get inside, rallying those who could fight to run to the gates. Luckily the bombing stopped a moment, though the lull was only brief as the Dreadwings split off and began sieging the rest of the city.

But the girl still stood motionless in the middle of the square, watching with wide eyes the place where the first explosives had been dropped. She couldn't take a step. Slowly, she brought a heavy arm to her vision and stared down at her hand. It was shaking violently.

The market was beginning to clear when the fire Guardian finally noticed his charge standing stricken in the middle of the square. He rushed over. "What's the matter?" he barked. "You need to get to safety!" There was no telling where they'd bomb next.

Finally, the girl snapped out of her trance. "That..." She pointed at the initial impact, trembling, "That's where Auren's house is!"

Her heart seemed to stop at her own words, and suddenly, life rushed back into her body. She took off down the street towards his house, running like every monster in the world was biting at her heels.

"Wait!" Ignitus yelled. But seeing she wouldn't listen, he took off after her as well.

She ran through roads that had once been familiar but now lay in ruins, houses collapsed, rubble thrown about. Through alleys that had been flooded, where she had to scramble up chunks of stone, through backyards coated in dust. People pushed through her and Ignitus, trying desperately to get away.

Around her, explosions deafened her ears and fires raged. The swarm of Dreadwings passed over her head, blacking out the sun for an instant as their shadows darkened the streets. She looked up and could almost meet the eyes of the apes riding them, but they didn't drop explosives on her. So she kept running.

Auren will be fine, she told herself as her feet pounded on the ground. She'd entered the nice neighborhood that he lived in, though not much was left of it. Pretty gardens were now blackened and burning; once-tall houses sat sagging at best or in piles of rubble at worst.

She saw blood seeping over the pavement, and then nearly tripped over a body that lay bleeding and dead in the street. Its legs were bent at odd angles, his face contorted into a death scream. He'd dragged himself away from his ruined house, but had bled out in minutes. She didn't pay him a thought as she continued sprinting haphazardly through the streets.

Everything will be the same! she thought desperately as she found the hill that led to Auren's mansion. The climb seemed longer than usual, like the hill was growing away from her, but she pushed on despite her screaming legs. It'll all be fine.

When you round this corner, she thought, just a few trees blocking her view of the house, his house will be there, just like always.

She skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. The manse that had once stood proud and magnificent before her now was naught but smoldering wood beams and chunks of stone. A few walls stood, but all the floors had collapsed. Coloured glass lay in pieces over the lawn, Tyren's toys sat charred and blackened in the yard. Only the stone brick tower still stood intact, though it sagged as if it may fall at any moment.

Ignitus rounded the corner at the same moment, and he had only a second to take it in before the girl snapped. "AUREN!" she screamed, stumbling forward in her haste to get to the house.

She saw it. The spot of sky blue in the black and brown carnage. The girl scrambled frantically over, dropping and skidding as she reached him. Only his head and one arm were poking out of the debris. His face was covered in soot, his eyes closed, a dribble of blood running out of his mouth.

"Auren..." She touched him, but he didn't stir. Wildly she slapped at his face, trying to wake him, but he wasn't, he wasn't moving. Her hands dropped to her sides as she stared shaking and wide-eyed down at his too-still form.

She didn't realize she was crying until the girl saw her tears hitting the ash-stained dirt, sending the black swirling. But she wasn't done. She hopped to her feet as Ignitus slowly approached, looking incredibly worried and weary at the prospect of explaining that her friend was gone.

"Help me get this off him!" The girl grabbed the end of the beam that was crushing the dragon and pulled, but it refused to budge. Ignitus could only stare. For the first time in his life, he was at a loss for words, for wisdom... For anything.

"Why aren't you helping me?!" she screamed, whirling back. Her black eyes were dilated and insane, her dirt-smudged face marred with tearstreaks. "We can still save him! We just have to dig him out of there!"

The girl dropped to the ground, scrabbling at the rubble crushing Auren until her fingers bled. He couldn't die. Not like this. How could he just go like that, without even a goodbye?! That wasn't right! She had to say goodbye, she had to!

She took his pulse, refusing to believe it. When his wrist produced nothing, she checked his neck, then his chest, praying for even the slightest, saddest thump.

Ignitus stepped forward, but before he could speak, another dragon rounded the corner. It was Kerridan, looking haggard. His bright green scales were stained with a splash of blood. "Ignitus, we need you on the front lines! The apes are swarming, and there's some other kind of creature with them!"

The grublins had risen, and the decaying apes were with them. Exhaling sharply, the Guardian cast a glance at the hysterical girl who was still fussing over her dead friend. She would be of no help fighting–she'd just get herself killed–and he knew that even if he dragged her to a shelter, she'd just run right back here.

"Get to safety as soon as you can," he called back. It was all he could do. Turning, he and Kerridan took to the skies, flying towards the besieged gates.

And the girl was alone.

She tried again to at least get Auren out of the rubble, out of that terrible place, but she collapsed next to his body after failing to move the beam. The tears were gone as she stroked his face, the blue scales still shiny like pearls though beginning to dull, the eyes that would never open again.

She had just seen him, only a few hours ago... When he'd handed her the note. It was burned into her memory, his gaze piercing her skull like a laser, a light that had burned out. Those bright blue husky eyes meeting hers, sincere as ever, the warmth that briefly touched her hand as he put the note into it. And then he'd turned and run off, only casting one last smile over his shoulder. In a moment, he was gone.

And she'd just stood there and watched him go. But how could she have known... How could she have known that would be the last time she'd ever see him?!

Opening her eyes, she saw something clasped in his paw. Had he known that he was going to die and taken it out? The girl knew that she shouldn't, but... Feeling like she was violating some unspoken rule of the dead, she pried open his claws. A piece of thin drawing paper was there.

If it was a death note... She couldn't bear to read it now. The child pocketed it and hunched over her best friend's body again. It shouldn't have been this way. Auren had died alone, with no last word, no goodbye, nothing.

The girl rose on unsteady feet, looking around what was left. Auren was gone... But there was someone else, too. And, dead or alive, she had to find him.

So she made her way into the rubble. The once magnificent house now lay at her feet. There was the golden harp, which still stood in the forbidden music room, but no other furnishings remained. Couches and desks lay toppled and blasted; piano keys were spread over the floor.

She nearly tripped over Dia.

The girl bent down to touch the blue dragon, but she was already long cold. She lay in what remained of the kitchen, half buried in stone, but somehow... She looked peaceful. Poor Dia wouldn't have to worry anymore.

She picked through the rubble in the kitchen, but she didn't find who she was looking for, so the teenager moved on. The dead look in her eyes grew ever more desolate as she picked through the rooms. He was probably dead, she knew. If this world could take Auren away from her, why should she expect even the tiniest sliver of hope, of justice?

Once the girl had looked through all the ruins, her gaze turned to the tower, which somehow seemed to be sagging even more. But before she could take a step towards it, the great building gave a mighty groan and a grumble, then at once fell, sending bricks and dust flying.

Panic flooding her, she rushed over to the new addition to the ruins, coughing as she reached the remains of his tower. Falling to her knees, the wild-eyed girl dug at it, tossing bricks aside, until finally... something sparkling peeked through at her.

Stopping, the girl caught her breath, then unearthed the shiny-scaled creature. Now free, he unfurled himself from the tight ball he'd been wound into and gazed up at her. He was so small, so impossibly tiny. And he looked more terrified than he ever had before, his little chest heaving, tears running down his blue and purple cheeks as he saw not his brother, but Fighter.

But he was there. Tyren was alive.

Wordlessly, the girl reached down to pick him up. But once his legs were freed, the boy snaked around her and climbed up onto her back, clinging to her soot-stained black robe for dear life. He didn't weigh a thing, and she could barely even tell he was there. So, with Tyren on her back with his head nestled into her shoulder, they left.

Everything was gone. Everything except little Tyren.

She avoided Dia, though she knew that Tyren was certainly aware of what had happened. But she couldn't stop him from seeing his brother as they stepped out of the ruins and into the yard. His mangled, bloody form, jutting garishly out of the wreckage. It had begun to snow grey, ashy remnants from the explosions that had decimated Warfang, and his blue scales were turning black.

"Auren?" Tyren's whimper was so pitiful that the girl nearly burst into tears again, but she kept her dead eyes dry and on the ground.

Her voice was as stony and cold as the great walls. "Auren is dead."

And she walked away from the grave that had once been a bright, happy home. Away from the memories of what once was, what should have been. What is not, and will never be again.

~~...~~

She'd grown numb to the bombs. That short whistling, sometimes distant, sometimes as if it was right behind her, then the explosion that deafened her no matter how far away it was. The brief flash of light, the flames that flared up around the bombshell. It was a constant cacophony, an eerie, haunting song.

The girl stumbled along, barely feeling the stone beneath her feet, or the weight of Tyren on her back. She didn't know her destination. She just had to get away. So through the streets blocked by rubble and craters she walked.

But as she went on, her and Tyren stopped when they heard a long moan from a nearby ruins. It had come from an old greying cheetah, his cane snapped and broken nearby, sticking out from beneath a beam much like Auren had been. But it was just his legs stuck there. No internal organs had been crushed; he had a chance. The girl walked over and bent down, alert for the first time in several minutes.

"Tyren, help me." Her voice was quiet yet commanding, and the boy scrambled off her back. Together, they managed to lift the beam crushing the old cat.

The girl crouched next to him. "Can you walk?" Too in pain to speak, the cheetah quickly shook his head. So, leaning down, she scooped up his frail form in her arms. Just like Serena had said, cheetahs weighed nearly nothing. Tyren climbed up onto her back and they were off.

She wasn't quite sure where she was going to bring him until she saw it in the distance, standing tall among heaps of rubble and half-destroyed buildings. The councilhouse. Finally, a destination, a light in the dark.

The place was empty. Muted sunlight streamed in through the tall pointed windows, illuminating the lobby scattered with abandoned papers that had been left as they'd evacuated in a tizzy. But it was a great stone and marble building, and it would not fall.

She brought the old cheetah to a couch and gently lay him down on the plush pillows, careful to not disturb his broken legs. "I can't heal you," the girl said quietly, averting her eyes. "But I'll try and send a doctor."

The teenager had straightened to leave when the feeble old cat reached out to catch her arm. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, a faint smile of gratitude on his weary old face. "You are a kind child."

A bit of emotion rushed back unbidding into her eyes. But she brushed it off quickly and shook her head, returning to her old state. She couldn't afford to feel anything, or she might collapse with grief. "Don't. It's nothing."

Turning, she tried to reach around to grab Tyren and put him down, but the little boy shirked away from her touch. "Come on, Tyren," she said, a bit of exasperation seeping into her voice as he clambered over to the other side of her back. "You have to stay here. It's dangerous."

But the hatchling refused, shaking his head. "No!"

It was the second word he'd said, and it made her stop. Sighing, she shook her head, but allowed him to stay as she pushed those great doors open and stepped into the blazing sunlight. The explosions had tapered off now. All around the city, smoke was rising, but the skies were clear of Dreadwings. The bombing was over. Now it was just the main battle.

The girl stepped into the street and stared towards the gates in Warfang North, where the fight was surely raging on. She could hear the distant shouts, the clanging of steel. Here was her chance. She could join them now, slice her way through enemies to defend the place she'd loved, just like she had dreamed and fantasized about.

But something was holding her back. She glanced at her shoulder, at Tyren who sat motionless there as he clung to her neck. He wasn't going to leave; he'd be in danger.

And, well, there was something else. Though her face was emotionless, her heart sealed away, when she thought about joining that battle... a twinge of fear resounded within her. She wasn't brave or strong enough. She would die. And though she didn't care about that anymore, Tyren would be alone.

So she turned away, going to search for a doctor.

But as she wandered slowly through the city, she came across more people who needed help. A child sobbing in the street, "Where's–my–maaaa-ma?" The girl brought her back, and the old cat, now a bit more in good humour, kept her entertained.

She set out again in search of a doctor, and instead found a half-conscious mole with a giant hunk of metal sticking out of her chest. So she carried her to the councilhouse too. Then she stumbled on a dragon who had been hit by the edge of an explosion and sent flying. She couldn't carry him, but she let him lean on her as she led him to safety as well.

And then she found another. And another. And another. When asked, Tyren would climb down to help lift debris or pull out a stuck person. Otherwise, he sat perched on her back, watching silently the havoc that had been wreaked upon Warfang.

She wasn't thinking or feeling as she did any of this. It wasn't about saving people, or doing the right thing. It was just something to do. Something to keep her mind off Auren. Because if she stopped, she knew that she would see his face again.

Talk spread to the doctors, nurses, and other good-hearted people of Warfang. When Zara got word of a black-cloaked cheetah looking like the reaper, who instead carried people to safety in the councilhouse, he had to see for himself. What greeted him when he pushed open those doors was a room filled to the brim with patients. Every couch was taken up, every spot on the floor laid with pillows and blankets. Doctors and nurses rushed about trying to stabilize those in critical condition, or carrying out the dead to make room for the living who needed their spot.

He only gaped for a moment. Then, sighing, the good doctor closed his mouth and got to work.

It wasn't just the girl now. Those who couldn't fight had begun to form search teams, and together they swept the rubble. Soon, the councilhouse and all its rooms were packed to the brim. Even volunteers had to stand in line.

But the girl kept wandering. Eventually, she couldn't find anyone left. Everyone who could be saved had been. So she turned to the north, to where the battles raged on. Even the search teams didn't dare venture there, but she couldn't stop.

Cyril stood snarling at a group of grublins and apes that looked more like skeletons than living creatures. The apes howled as they were rooted to the ground by a cold blast, but the mossy monsters seemed to slide right out of his icy grasp.

Sharp claws flashed out, cleaving one grublin entirely in half, and he threw one off that tried to jump on him. The rest of them, though mindless creatures, had enough sense to scatter. The ice dragon sighed and caught his breath, the puffs of vapour from his breath fading.

Out of the corner of his blue eyes he saw someone familiar. The Guardian turned to shout at her to help him, but had to stop and stare a moment. What was she doing? The little brother of that mouthy ice dragon was perched on her back, oddly, and she stood hunched over the blackened rubble of what had once been a house.

But it was the look in her eyes that really startled him. She was always so bright and animated, barely able to keep her mouth shut for a moment, her black eyes sparkling. Now... They seemed to be staring a thousand miles into the distance, yet seeing nothing. Completely lifeless, like a corpse.

Suddenly, a small red paw thrust out of the rubble to meet her outstretched hand. Out clambered a little fire dragon with scales like blood, stumbling down the bricks, then next, an even smaller yellow one.

"Soni isn't coming out!" the tiny gold dragon cried, her pale soot-stained maw opening into a wail.

The girl's grimace was invisible under her mask. Narrowing her eyes, she leaned down and said something to Tyren, who jumped off her and pushed up the beam blocking the way into the hole. Wasting no time, she dove into the dark.

Cyril nearly stepped forward to go drag the stupid girl out of that deathtrap, but she was back in a moment, an orangey-yellow dragon in one arm. The hatchling was unconscious, half his face blackened and ruined by burns as his head lolled to the side. Tyren let go of the beam and it crashed down, the hollow in the rubble caving in.

And with that she set off, three dragons at her heels and one in her arms. Cyril finally closed his mouth, realizing what she was doing. Fine, as long as she was helping. He turned his attention back to the battle.

But he did see something else when he glanced over a few moments later, and it was too late to warn her. An ape was sprinting, his furless, mangled face twisted into an insane grin. The bones in one arm were visible, as if the skin had slid right off, and he was headed right for her. The Guardian shot an icicle, but he missed.

The girl, however, heard the whoosh a few feet behind her and became aware of footsteps pounding on the blasted stone. She stiffened and stopped, glancing behind her and putting the burned hatchling down. The children had only a moment to turn and cry out as the ape neared with his outstretched blade.

In an instant, she pulled her sword out of its sheath and thrust it behind her, catching the ape in the dead center of his chest. A clatter as he dropped his sword let the girl know that she'd hit her mark. She rolled her head to the side, glaring into his wide eyes with her empty ones as he gasped and struggled on the end of her blade. His thick viscous blood seeped out onto the steel and dripped down to the yellow bricks.

She pulled out her sword with an inhuman snarl, the force pushing the ape backwards and leaving him collapsed on the ground. The children scrambled as his blood splattered onto the ground, running behind her and peering out from the robe with big eyes. Except Tyren, who just looked away.

Her second kill. This time, she felt nothing.

"Let's go." Her voice was sharp and flat, and the children didn't question her.

Well... she could certainly take care of herself! As the girl picked up the unconscious kid and walked away, the ice Guardian returned to his own battle. But, with the look on her face, the lack of expression in her usually-animated eyes... Why did he feel like something was wrong?

It was hours later when what little was left of Malefor's forces finally retreated, and stragglers were picked off. Even so long after the bombing, it was still raining ash. The haggard warriors' fur and scales were streaked with grey as they finally sheathed their swords and shut the blasted gates.

Though a majority had died in the initial bombing, the death toll was enormous. Corpses lay in the street and buried in their houses. The dead would have to be collected and identified, rubble cleared from the streets, enemy soldiers burned. But that was a job for the volunteers. For now, it was time for the soldiers to rest. And tomorrow, they'd begin to rebuild, as they had so many times before. They'd never seen a raid this scale, but this was nothing new.

Near everyone who could be rescued was safe in the councilhouse, and only one team remained on the streets. They would sweep the city all night, listening for cries of help. There were still survivors buried in the rubble, and a lot of work to be done to save them.

With the battle over, Ignitus had regrouped and explained to the other Guardians what had happened, and the fragile emotional state their friend would probably be in. And with the rumours flying about, they all knew where to find her.

The councilhouse was bustling, though the moans were less now. Most of those who were going to die had done so and been laid out in a line across the street, where the stench of death wouldn't reach their haven. Now it was just a matter of caring for those in pain.

They found her in the courtroom, where the rows of cushioned seats now served as beds for the weary. Tyren had finally dismounted, but he sat in a dark corner, so still that he may have been a statue. The girl was hunched over a reddish-brown cheetah, changing his bandage. Her hands were washed clean, but her face still was streaked with dirt and ash and blood.

"Lucky the shrapnel went through," she said starkly. Her voice was hoarse from inhaling so much smoke, but flat and all-business.

Glancing up and seeing the Guardians, she turned away quickly, tying the bandage with a bit more vigor. "Very lucky. Went straight through your arm, and burned so hot that it cauterized. Might've severed a few nerves, but better than an infection."

The four approached, hanging back so as not to crowd her. "It's time to rest, young one," Ignitus said gently. "You've done more than enough."

She shook her head. With her patient fixed up, she stood and headed to the next one in the line. "Gotta keep working," she mumbled, sounding so incredibly tired. "Have to. They need me. I have to do something, I have to, I can save them... I..."

She stopped and stared at the mole who lay before her, sleeping peacefully. The girl knew she needed to change his bandage, but her arms wouldn't move anymore. She hunched down, closing her eyes. "I couldn't save him."

It was Terrador who stepped forward and lay a heavy green paw on her shoulder. His voice was short and deep, but it said everything it needed to. "Enough."

The girl stopped, the gauze dropping out of her hands and rolling onto the floor. Slowly, feeling as if the world was pushing her down, she rose. Tyren came to her and let her pick him up, and she held the little hatchling close in her arms.

It isn't enough, she thought as she walked between the rows of seats. It wasn't enough.

But she let herself be led away. Away from this house of death she had created, and into the future, now barren and bleak without Auren in it.

Chapter Text

The house still stood there at the end of the road, tall and proud as ever. In fact, the whole quiet neighborhood was still standing, untouched by fire or bombs. The girl felt, as she stepped numbly down the untainted streets, that this had all been some awful dream.

But the bundle in her arms reminded her. Tyren was shivering, so she pulled him to her chest until his teal scales were no longer cold to the touch.

People stood in their doors, watching as they tramped wearily down the street. The girl kept her head down, but she couldn't help but notice the candles that flickered in the window. Markers for the dead. Only a few homes remained dark. Reaching their house, the former quintet, now six, went inside.

Her legs were aching terribly–she hadn't sat down once that day–so she collapsed on the couch with Tyren sitting still on her lap. Ignitus set about lighting some candles as everyone did the same, completely exhausted.

But the flickering lights only made the room look eerie, like it was shifting. The girl would have liked the dark better. She would have liked it, in fact, if she could close her eyes, sink into the darkness, and never wake up. Her gaze fell down to the little boy as she idly stroked the smaller scales on his face. His eyes were closed, his fast, panicked breaths finally slowing. At least he was at peace.

Terrador spoke, and the silence around them shattered like glass. “What you did was very brave, young one.”

The girl blinked at being addressed, and looked up slowly. “Brave? Really?” She tilted her head, a few strands of hair falling out of the hood. Her voice was completely emotionless. “What makes you think that?”

The earth dragon shifted; her dryness and flat voice were... off-putting. But he maintained resolutely, “You're as much a hero as any of us were today.”

Something appeared in her face, some emotion like rage and anguish all at once. “You think I'm a hero?” She laughed, though she lowered her voice when Tyren shuddered in his sleep. “I did all of that because I'm a coward. I was afraid to fight. And I couldn't...” She hunched over, the shadows on her face dancing in the candlelight. “I didn't do enough.”

But that brief emotion soon seeped out of her expression as she stared into the light of a candleflame. “I got too comfortable,” she said quietly. “I thought it could be a new beginning for me, like this was some magical place where there was no death or pain. At least, it wouldn't ever get to me.”

Her gaze into the little fire sitting on the table before her hardened. Damn that flame for jumping about so cheerily. “But this place is the exact same as Earth. Anyone you love can be taken from you at any moment.” Finally, she tore her gaze away from the fire. “I can't stay in this world. I belong there. Anyway...” She smiled bitterly. “What's the difference?”

The Guardians exchanged glances, but they said nothing. She was grieving. If she needed to say these things, or to act aloof, then they wouldn't get in the way.

But, truth was, they didn't know what to say anyhow. They'd seen a lot of her personality. Her default, dreamy self, her joy as she sailed up into the clouds, or overreacted and fell to the depths of despair, and the flashes of rage. Her emotions were strong, her expressiveness more so.

But this was new. This wasn't depression, like after the screw-up at the trainyard. This wasn't anger or rage at the world. This was... nothing.

She went back to looking down at Tyren and gently stroking his scales. But the thought hit her, the idea of Tyren being ripped away and sent to the orphanage. Of the once bright boy in that horrible place, alone.

A twinge of dread resounded through her unfeeling body. No. Anything, anything but that. She'd run away if she had to. Find her way to the White Isle herself and bring Tyren home with her.

But she had to ask. “What's going to happen to Tyren?”

“Let's not worry about that right now,” Ignitus answered quickly. No use getting her riled up now. “He'll stay here tonight. After that, we'll see what happens.”

It sounded like he might be able to stay. That was the best she could hope for. So, sighing, she bundled up the child in her arms and stood. “I'm taking a bath and going to bed.” The girl turned her back and headed up the stairs without another word.

No one offered a goodnight, because it wasn't.

Legs heavy, she headed to the end of the hall. Perhaps it was adrenaline that had made Tyren so easy to carry, for now he felt like an impossible weight.

She headed to the room across from hers. No one slept there, and it was the only other bedroom with a window... Tyren would like that, she thought. The morning sun might help him feel a little better, rather than waking up in a strange bed in the dark.

So, gently, she lay him down in the bed far too big for him and pulled the covers over his cold shoulders. He shivered in his sleep then went still, turning his face into the pillow. She stood over him a moment, her impassive gaze softening, then leaned down and pressed her lips to his cool forehead.

As she entered the bathroom, she could still hear the Guardians talking down there. Normally she would peer over the edge and eavesdrop, but tonight she couldn't care less what they were discussing.

In the dark room, she managed to light a few candles as she ran the bath. The mirrors were black but for those few lights, and she was just a silhouette in them. Picking up a candle, the girl walked over to one the mirror-walls to stare at her reflection.

She could hardly recognize herself; she looked like a ghost. Her eyes were black and dead, her body pale and shaking. Her dark brown hair was streaked with ash and her face smudged with dirt. And her cloak, though black, was visibly blood-stained and bleached were the soot had stained it grey. She looked like she'd just stepped out of a battle in a coal mine.

The girl pressed her hand, the only clean part of her, to the mirror. She'd always looked like a child; her baby fat along with her bright, sparkling eyes made her appear more akin to a puppy than a teenager. But now, even with her young face, that was gone. She could have been a thousand years old.

But what really scared her was that look on her face... It reminded her of before. Before the Dragon Realms. She'd avoided mirrors, because she couldn't stand to meet that hollow gaze. Now it was back, consuming her.

She stepped out of the bathroom a half hour later feeling clean but not much better. A bit of ash and blood still under her fingernails reminded her that she couldn't just scrub the past away. Still, her world felt a little less hopeless.

The girl turned to head to bed, but she stopped in the hallway, the moonlight from the far window illuminating her. The dirty robes were in her arms, and she'd planned to throw them into the corner until she could muster the will to wash them or burn them.

But she'd forgotten. The piece of paper that she'd pocketed, the one she'd ripped from Auren's cold fingers.

Her hands were shaking as she walked closer to the light and pulled the soft paper out of the pocket. Gently, careful not to rip the delicate parchment, she opened it.

Immediately, it was like a spear had pierced her heart. Her hands shook so hard that the paper nearly tore in two as she stared down at the drawing. This was what Strider had handed him that night. Something even that girl had seen, something there was no words for. How could she have been so blind?

It was her and Auren, sitting close together, just talking. Not like the group picture, where they'd all been laughing, in tears with joy. This was something simpler, more subtle, more real. She'd always shied away from physical contact... So how could she look so comfortable sitting that close to someone? When had she ever looked as happy, or smiled that widely before?

The girl traced Auren's sketched face, leaving her fingers stained black. She remembered now, how eternally bright and optimistic he'd always looked, at least before these last few weeks. There was a time, not too long ago, when his pensive side had all but faded. Had she done that to him? Had she... had she helped him? Because she knew, more than anything she'd felt before, that he had certainly helped her.

Helped her be happy, helped her smile... Then, right when she had begun to heal permanently, tore her heart out of her chest.

The paper shook as a teardrop splattered onto it, sending a piece of the chalky background running. The girl scrambled to quickly wipe her eyes so she wouldn't ruin the drawing anymore. Walking into her room, she opened the wicker chest and set the sketch in there, where it would be safe. With her dearest possession stored away, her weary gaze flicked to the unmade bed.

If she closed her eyes, she knew she would see it. The distant explosions, the fires licking at the skies. The bloody, moaning people. The child who'd been half burned alive, his face black and ruined, who slipped away in her arms before they could even make it back to the councilhouse.

And then, Auren. The face as still as a glassy pool of water, frozen in time. An unmoving sketch that never smiled again.

She had to go... somewhere. Anywhere else. But she couldn't. She couldn't face the Guardians again tonight. She stepped into her room, putting her dayclothes back on, and turned to the window.

This time, the girl was careful sliding down onto the lower roof. There was no giveaway thump–she knew she wasn't in any state to be wandering around Warfang in the dark, and the Guardians would drag her back if they heard her, but... There was something she needed to do.

She knew that she couldn't bear to pass by that place on the wall, at least not yet, so she dropped into the backyard instead of jumping to the willow tree. The moons were shining so prettily as she walked in the shadow of the wall that, just for a moment, she almost forgot. Almost.

Soon enough, the great tower loomed ominously before her, its shadow darker than pitch casting her into an inky black void. She had never stood at its base before. Usually, she'd climb in through a window, just to get a laugh out of Addison.

Now, for once, she went quietly through the humble brown door. The ground floor was dark and dusty, filled with racks of old weapons and dull, rusted armour. She had liked the little old library with greying, faded books, the crates next to the window that made comfortable sitting places. But she'd never been down here before, and she'd be quite happy to never return again.

Up a thousand stairs she climbed, her legs growing heavier at every step. What would she find at the top of this tower? If she found some confused new recruit, what could she say?

And what if she found nothing? What if that comfortable little rooftop they'd made their own was still and dark, and all their things had been pushed into the corner? Without a candle to stand on a squat, mismatched table, without the two little chairs and the desk between them, without the homely smell of tea and old books' pages...

Would she have to pick through the lines of corpses until she found his among them?

Her heart was pounding as she mounted the final steps. The trapdoor was open. Two black eyes poked up through the hole; she saw it there, the tiny light flickering in the gentle wind. Her eyes snapped over, and there he was, standing and staring out at the mountains with an imperceptible expression on his face.

The last stair creaked and his ear flicked. Addison didn't turn towards her. “The lights are gone,” he pointed out, gazing at those dark mountains. “Most all the miners have come home, one way or another. There are bodies to be identified, families to mourn with. And it's just not safe out there anymore.”

The girl stopped and stood still as she finished stepping out, frozen in place by his words, and he continued, “I was on a scouting mission today. They redirected us to bring the miners back. While we were escorting them, we came across the force that was retreating from Warfang...”

His head turned down, his long nose twitching as the mole closed his eyes. “I can rest easy now knowing that every creature who perpetrated this horror today is dead. But I failed. Instead of escorting them safely home, we had to carry their bodies back with us.”

Finally, Addison inclined his head toward her. His dark eyes were empty as they fell on her. “Why do you think this world is so full of death, miss? Do you believe there's any reconciliation for it? Or is this life just meaningless bloodshed?”

She couldn't open her mouth. Her tongue was made of lead. “Anyway,” the mole said, turning back to lean on the battlements, “That's what I'm beginning to believe.”

The girl stood stricken for a moment. How could this bright soul be fading? But she found her words, and she spoke with what little strength she had left to muster. “You're alive,” she choked. “Even... even though everyone else is gone, you're still here.” He looked at her with clarity and opened his mouth, but she tumbled out before he could speak, “I could have lost everyone, but I have you... And I have Tyren.

“So...” She hadn't cried today, not once, but suddenly the child couldn't stop her eyes welling up with tears. “So, that's something, right?”

She didn't want his pity, but she couldn't help it. If she'd lost him too... What could she have done? So, as the mole turned to her, she ran to him and enveloped him in a hug. He was half her height and she had to crouch down, but it didn't matter. His small paws patted her back as he reassured her; he was still here, he'd always be here.

Addison was alive. He wasn't Auren, no, and he couldn't possibly replace what she had lost. But it was something, so she held on tight.

~~...~~

Her mind steered her away, begging her to drop back down to the grass, to go home. It's cold, she thought as she tramped through the wind. It's late. But her feet brought her somewhere else.

She walked, eyes on the ground, until she saw it. The tell-tale scuffles and scratches in the stone. Her gaze raised and she saw her neighborhood not too far away. She'd come back to this place, this place that would never see the light of a friendly lantern or hear a laugh again.

The girl sat down in her spot and looked around, her eyes still sparkling with tears. When she blinked, she could see them. There was Serena sitting next to her with a gentle, patient smile on her face. Strider, staring with those silver eyes that could pierce right through her. Cedric, lazily playing the lute, the sound of his music still echoing in the air.

And Auren, Auren still smiling. He laughed, the sound barely reaching her, before the wind and snow carried him and his laughter away.

She reached out for them. The warmth of the lantern was there, if she could just hold her hand out and touch it. But she fell forward, elbows hitting the stone, and was jolted back into the dark reality. It was gone. They were all gone

Knowing it was dangerous but not caring, the girl pushed her hood down to feel the wild wind, the snowflakes biting at her neck. Her hair, having grown a few inches, whipped about like a tornado.

When a dragon dies, he does not truly leave this world. He lives on, binding himself with nature, offering hope for the future...

There was no hope to be had, but did that mean he was watching? Was this howling wind him? Was he the snow that stung her bare skin, the winter that enveloped the world?

“You dummy...” she whispered, almost laughing through her frozen tears. “I would have stayed.” Her hoarse voice was ripped from her throat by the twisting, wailing breeze. It ebbed a moment, as if it might be listening, so she raised her head and screamed into the wind, “I would have stayed, for you!”

But she received no answer. Only the blizzard gale that cried with all its force, and kept howling and screeching mournfully even long after the girl had gone home and shut the window. It held that harsh truth and carried it away until it was gone, forgotten.

~~...~~

When she woke up in her bed, the girl was feeling rather comfortable and warm. She sat up with a yawn, but quickly froze as it all came back to her. That brief moment of bliss, of sleepy unknowing, she wanted it back. But it was long out of her grasp.

Her gaze turned to the window. Well, it was nice and bright outside at least. Sighing, she stood and put on her disguise. She'd better check on Tyren.

She found him in the room across from her, sitting on the bed and staring out the window. He looked like a cat sitting in the patch of sunlight filtering through the glass. The boy turned to look at her mutely, and she had to stop. The utter hollowness in his eyes was gone, but this was not the motor-mouth child she knew.

“Morning,” the teenager offered hesitantly. What could she say to the child whose entire family was dead? Made a brotherless orphan in one fell swoop... She was all he had left. “We'd... better get some food in us.”

The hatchling promptly jumped down off the bed. The girl didn't realize until then how small he was. Like a yearling puppy, barely even reaching to her hips. Together, the two of them walked downstairs to meet the Guardians at breakfast.

It was odd, seeing an extra plate set. She almost felt like she should look around, say, “Who is coming to visit?” But it was just for little Tyren. All of the Guardians were staring as they descended the stairs, and it made the girl's skin crawl.

“Good morning,” Ignitus greeted warily, watching them as they sat. They were a quiet pair to be sure, but even the little one wasn't crying. They were in a better mood than he'd expected. “How are you both feeling?”

“I'm fine,” the girl muttered, digging into her food so she'd have an excuse to not talk. Colourful fruit that didn't at all fit her mood, but she couldn't taste it anyway.

Tyren just stared. His voice was stuck. But, after a moment, he sighed and followed the girl's example. “Fine,” he mumbled.

Nobody spoke of the orphanage or of what would be done with Tyren, which made the duo feel equal parts relief and dread. Breakfast was quite the somber affair. It was often brightened by the girl's lively chatter, but now only the Guardians quietly discussed their duties today. But soon, even that descended into silence, only broken by the clinking of plates and glasses.

The girl wondered if she should have been helping, on a cleaning or search crew or something, but no one said anything. And she didn't want to leave Tyren alone in this house anyway.

So, the day went on... somewhat normally. Mostly, it was just quiet. Ignitus stayed behind to write letters or some such–the only thing this attack generated more of than bodies was paperwork–and the other Guardians were out all day helping the citizens restore the city. There were still fires to be put out, pieces of rubble to be moved, people and bodies to rescue from the wreckage.

Mostly, the girl sat on the soft cloth couch and read aloud to Tyren, who'd curled up on her lap and refused to move. She'd managed to dig up an old storybook from the ancient library. By midday, the little boy was passed out, dreaming of fairytales instead of nightmares. At least she could do that much for him.

The girl was close to falling asleep herself when Ignitus entered from the library. He always looked tired, and the last day he'd looked about a thousand years old. But now, there was a little light in his eyes. “Is he asleep?”

She nodded in response, so the dragon continued, “Good. Don't wake him. Let's give him a chance to get settled in before we tell him.”

At this, a bit of hope sprung into the child's eyes, relief spreading through her tense body. “You'll let him stay?”

Ignitus nodded. “The others agreed, but left the decision up to me.”

She stared at him, annoyance creeping into her voice. “If you're fine with taking care of him, why did it take so long to figure out the answer?” She'd been anxious and pensive all day, worrying about Tyren's fate and planning an escape if necessary, and he hadn't even said anything?

“If you're going to go through with your plan of leaving this world...” The red dragon gazed at her, an unspoken question in his words, and her expression fell. “That may only leave him in a worse state. But, I realized that separating you now would do more harm than good, whatever choice you make later on.”

Maybe more for me than for Tyren, the girl thought wearily. If she had to watch Tyren be ripped away from her, put into that horrible orphanage... She'd go entirely insane.

The child closed her eyes and let out a sigh, finally allowing herself to relax. That wouldn't happen now. “Thank you. I'm just glad he'll be safe.” She could look to the future, whatever was left of it.

The girl hadn't answered his question, and he stood waiting as if she might. But after a moment, the Guardian turned. “Tyren will be alright, wherever you go,” he said over his shoulder, and then he entered the library and was gone.

She stared down at the child and closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping. Well, she could only hope that was true. But she wouldn't have to worry about that, not yet, so for a moment... she let herself rest.

~~...~~

He awoke in the night and sat up with a gasp of cold air, his little chest heaving. His paw shot out on instinct, searching, but there was no warm body curled around him, or his brother's soothing, deeper voice surrounding him and easing him back to sleep.

Tyren hadn't ever slept alone very often. After they moved to Warfang, when he was too little to remember, they'd had him in that tower that was scary and dark at night. But he had vague wisps of memories from before, of laying in a warm bed between his parents.

He still recalled vividly that first night. He'd only sat hiding under the covers for ten minutes before bolting down the twisting stairs, ending up under the sheets of a disgruntled Auren's pillow. “I need my beauty sleep, kiddo,” he'd groaned. But he allowed it, and Tyren slept soundly that night, and every night thereon.

The hatchling cowered under the sheets a moment, watching the shadows in the corner for even a hint of movement. He could hear the others' snores and breathing, and that brought a bit of comfort, but–did that shadow just move?! Jumping off the bed, he bolted over the block of moonlight and into the opposite room, claws scraping on the sleek wooden boards.

But Tyren stopped in the doorway, hesitant as he stared at her sleeping form. He'd never had to ask before.

The boy padded over to the edge of the bed, resting his head on the sheets and staring at her weird face. Since he was a permanent resident now (and she didn't want to wear a bandanna forever), the girl had told him the truth. Young children are luckily very accepting creatures, so it only took Tyren a bit to get used to it. Still, he couldn't stop staring at her weird face, the odd hair that split into strands, unlike fur, the impossibly smooth skin.

Leaning forward, the boy nudged her arm with his snout, harder when she didn't respond. One sleepy black eye opened, then two. “Tyren?”

“Can I sleep with you?” His lavender eyes were pleading.

Yawning, the girl nodded and lifted the covers. Tyren didn't need to be asked twice; he zipped under and snuggled in, shutting his eyes immediately. The girl looked down at him a moment, then put an arm overtop the covers and pulled him close.

Sure, dragons didn't make the best sleeping buddies, with all their horns and wings and other pieces sticking out. But Tyren needed it. So she closed her eyes too, doing her best to get comfortable. She knew he was asleep when his fast breaths evened. The girl listened to his breathing for a while as she waited for sleep to call her back.

As long as I'm here, she thought as she began to fade away, I will keep you safe. I promise.

The girl didn't know what would happen tomorrow. She didn't know what would happen weeks or months or years from now, when she had to go home. But laying there with Tyren in her arms, she knew that everything would be alright.

Chapter Text

She brought flowers to the wall. Snatched them from windowsills, picked the few winter ones that remained. She couldn't go to that place, not yet, but she still left the wall and strode through the snowy fields every day in search of flowers.

Outside was the only place she felt free, where she could almost forget and let her thoughts fade into the cold night air. The Guardians' pity was smothering. Tyren was a harsh reminder. And the city...

She'd sit and watch them, leaning on a wall, listening to their laughter. Warfang was rebuilding, slowly but surely. Funerals were held and pain buried there, talk faded, and people began to move on. Candles that had once burned bright in the windows were being blown out. People donned bright colours again as their minds turned towards the approaching Winter Festival.

Still the girl stared, eyes hollow under her hood. As people walked past her, smiling and laughing, she had to turn away. They forgot, she thought, walking into the shadows, putting the bright city squares behind her. They forgot Auren.

But life went on.

It wasn't safe to hold a traditional funeral for any person, and Dia had had no relatives to take care of it. So they buried them in the graveyard with everyone else. Somehow, that was comforting for her. She didn't like to imagine him entombed miles under the ice, never decaying, frozen. But she couldn't face his grave, so the flowers went to the wall.

That was better, anyway. His resting place wasn't in the cramped graveyard, surrounded by people that had died hundreds of years before him. It was there, in that spot where they'd spent so many nights with their friends.

The days wore on, and even the emptiness of loss began to fade. But she didn't forget to bring flowers to the wall.

~~...~~

Tyren was a welcome addition to their little ragtag family, if one that went rather unnoticed. He was quiet and well-behaved, intelligent and polite. But he was also very out of place. The little boy didn't much speak to anyone.

They'd returned to the ruins, him and the girl, to pick out what little of his belongings hadn't been destroyed. Almost everything was buried, but they'd located his broken creations in the wreckage. So Tyren mostly spent the time in his room, putting the scraps back together. The girl would lean on the bed and watch him.

He remained solidly attached to the girl's hip, though he was beginning to settle in. But he still would crawl into bed with her near every night, before the nightmares could drown him in terror. Her warmth was a comfort, and he'd stopped waking with Dreadwings' screams in his ears.

As for her... Well, every morning, she'd put on her brave face. If it wasn't for Tyren, she probably would have crawled into bed and stayed there. But she knew that he needed her to be strong and not cry. So she managed, and tried to muster the will to smile. It was working, anyway. The child was slowly starting to heal.

Sometimes, when she could get Tyren to laugh, she'd see Auren's face in his, or hear an echo of his snicker, and she quickly shoved that memory down. Tyren wasn't a ghost of his brother, and she wouldn't treat him that way. But the ache of it lingered, and it kept Auren always on her mind.

"I just can't believe he's gone," she told Ignitus one day. They were in the library, but the cheerful winter daylight streaming in through the high-set windows couldn't seem to light up her face. "I got used to bad stuff happening to me. I could live with that... But, despite everything, I at least never lost anyone."

The girl hadn't spoken much about how she was feeling, and the confession had burst out suddenly. She was cracking, that much Ignitus could see. One push and she'd shatter. So he said delicately, "You've been acting different as of late."

She averted her eyes and leaned her head down on the table. "Tyren can't see me cry," she muttered. "I'll do what I have to to make sure he can move on."

"And what about you?" The wise old dragon tilted his head. "Is risking your own sanity really worth that?"

"Yes." The girl sat up, flames dancing in her eyes. "It's too late for me. But Tyren can still move on. Me, I..." She felt in her chest for any hint of feeling, but her heart was solid stone. Her gaze on the table hardened. "Well, I've resigned myself."

He examined her with red eyes. His voice was impassive, though it contained a layer of concern. "You both can," he said. "I assure you that Tyren is feeling the same, as does everyone who experiences what you have. There's no need to accept your own suffering."

The girl shook her head. "You can't understand how this feels." Like nothing, she thought. Like an ache, a craving, a hunger that couldn't be fulfilled. Like being tired, but unable to sleep. It was quiet for a moment, and she wouldn't meet his eyes as she spoke. "Do you want to know something I said to him?" She didn't wait for his response. "I told him that everything changes. Everything you love will go away.

"Do you want to know... what he said? He said..." Her voice was cracking, his eyes were piercing her memories, but she couldn't stop. "He said to just find more."

The moment of silence was crushing, and she laughed shakily. "But how can you just move on?"

Impossible, at least as long as Auren remained in her dreams. On the nights where she didn't slip into a pleasant black emptiness, or a horrifying, bloody nightmare, the girl instead saw him. His eyes were like a pale blue lighthouse beam that stretched on for miles, and she followed it over the dusky landscape until she found him.

He'd float there before her, then lift his arm, pointing. Where? She'd turn to follow his claw, but whenever she looked back, he was gone. Evaporated into the blizzard.

Then, she'd wander into the snow, tramping on until her limbs went as numb as her heart, but there was nothing. Nothing around her but encroaching, suffocating white snow. Even still, she had to know. Where, where was he pointing? Where could he be leading her?

Why should you care about me? his voice would ask in her head. Then, You're going to hurt yourself. It's time to move on.

She'd ignore him, and he'd say insistently, Just find more things to love.

"I won't forget you!" she'd scream, her breath turning to a fog that wrapped around her, choking, and then she'd wake up. His voice would ring in her ears, Just find more.

It wasn't easy. But things were getting better. With every morning, every new day, it became a little easier to smile with sincerity. Auren stopped haunting her nightmares. She stopped waiting for him to appear as she sat alone on the wall, as if this was all some nightmare she could wake up from.

Was this "moving on"? She didn't know. But the ghosts were retreating, the scars fading. The girl supposed that this was something, at least.

"I miss Auren," Tyren said one day.

They were curled up on the couch as they often were, the girl sitting with her legs to the side, Tyren on her lap with his head nuzzled into her chin and her arms around him. Sometimes she would read to him, and sometimes they would just sit there together, lost in their memories.

There was an unspoken rule between them. They didn't talk about Auren; they didn't talk about that horrible day. Not to each other, not to anyone. But Tyren missed his brother, and he had to say something, or else it would fester inside him.

The girl knew that she should have remained brave and strong. She should have patted his head, given him comfort, reassured him that it was normal to feel like that.

But hearing that little boy say what she was feeling, something snapped inside her. The tears were already welling up as she said shakily, "Me too." And she held him as they cried, two small souls that had both lost something very dear to them, someone who would never fill a room with laughter or toss a grin over his shoulder ever again.

It was the only time she let Tyren see her cry. After that, she became ever more wary and aloof, careful to keep her emotions under wraps.

But there was something she wanted to do for the boy. A place, she thought, that may help him come to terms with what had happened. So one day, she led him through the hole in the wall and to the east, unwary that she was making the biggest mistake of her life.

"Where are we going?"

"Shh. It's a surprise."

It was a pretty winter day, with a sky as pure blue as a sapphire. The white covering the world sparkled blindingly in the light that filtered through the bare tree branches, and the duo left thick tracks in the otherwise perfect layer of snow.

The girl had her hood down, and the wind was whipping her hair about. She walked slowly as Tyren was struggling through the drifts of snow almost as tall as he was. Smiling at his trouble, she lifted him onto her back, and the boy laughed from the rush.

Soon enough, they could hear the waterfall and the bubbling river that accompanied it. The girl crested the hill quickly, a grin on her face, and within moments they arrived at the top. Tyren scampered down off her shoulders and walked forward, staring about in wonder.

She'd never seen this pretty little copse in the daytime, and though its magical night aura was gone, it had a rich beauty that bloomed in the sunlight. The trees here were the kind that kept their leaves, so it was nice and shady, and the burbling waterfall just seemed so friendly. Golden winter flowers poked their petals through the snow, turning a world usually white and brown into a colourful rainbow.

"What is this place?" Tyren asked as he stepped into a patch of sunlight. He beamed up at the sky, at the flower-flecked branches of a slender tree.

The girl plopped down into the snow. "Auren showed me it. He said that he always came here."

At this, Tyren stopped and his smile faded. All of a sudden, the wonder was gone. He thought about this for a moment, a queer look on his face. Then, in a moment, the light was gone from his eyes. "Auren never took me here."

She shrugged in response, not noticing his expression. "I guess he just wanted to be alone sometimes."

"Away from me and Mama?" the child shot back darkly. His face was now stormy, a contrast to the clear weather. "He brought you here..."

The girl realized her mistake immediately, and she said quickly, sitting up from her snowbed, "That's not what I meant... He only brought me here once, anyway. I don't think he meant to ever show anybody."

But it was too late to placate him. Tyren turned, his purple eyes on the ground. "I wanna go ho..." He realized, then, that there was no going home, and his eyes widened a moment. But he corrected himself, "I'm going."

With big confused eyes, his friend watched him tramp heavily down the hill, kicking up and ruining the pretty snow in his wake. All the energy and light that had once burst from this magical thicket went with him. Finally, she shrugged to herself and stood.

She supposed he was just hurt that Auren had showed her this place and not him. She supposed that she should have known better than to bring him here so soon after. Just a small mistake, soon forgiven.

The girl followed him, but Tyren didn't talk at all on the way back, or at all for the rest of the day. The girl had no idea what she'd just set into motion, the major consequences of the little transgression she had made.

~~...~~

Tyren, once quiet and well-behaved, suddenly became rather ill-tempered. He wouldn't speak to anyone, and if they tried, he'd snap at them in a way that was extremely out of character. He stayed in his room and refused to see anybody, nor would he eat or even come to the table.

The girl left him alone and beseeched the Guardians to do the same. She realized what he must be going through to change his personality this drastically, and she figured he'd be back to his demure self in a week.

But he wasn't getting better.

Had she done this to him? Just by bringing him to that place... How could she have known that he would react that way? The girl cursed herself for her stupidity. Gone were the days where they had sat together, comforting each other silently, close in ways words couldn't describe. Now he only pushed her away.

This couldn't last; something was bound to happen. One dark evening, as night encroached on the world, it all came to a climax. And the two were sent spiralling out of control, into oblivion.

The girl was reading in the living room when she heard heavy tramping footsteps coming down the stairs. All the Guardians were out, so there was no doubt who it was. She didn't want to agitate him, so she tried to ignore the boy as he stood there at the edge of the staircase, his hard gaze piercing her. Finally, he spoke.

"Why did he show you that place?" His voice was unusually soft, and she looked up in surprise. For the child that had been a tempest of anger these past few days, she hadn't expected sadness.

At least he was finally saying what was on his mind. "I don't know. It's not like he planned on ever showing anyone," she said carefully. "It just happened. I'm sure he would have taken you there eventually."

For a moment he seemed placated. But then the stormy look returned. "It's not fair," he mumbled with a sniffle. "You were going to..." Tyren trailed off and shook his head with a grimace. "He was my brother, not yours!"

The girl recoiled as if stabbed; she was trying to remain patient, but that hurt. "I cared about him too!" she exclaimed, unable to push down her temper. "It's not like I made him do it. He can make his own decisions!" Could.

Tyren growled in frustration. "It's not fair! I want Auren back, I want him!"

"Well," the girl closed her book with a huff and a slam, "blaming me won't bring him back!"

He only stood there for a moment, a scowl marring his features. The child turned and ran, out the door before she could even move. At once her flare of anger faded and she hopped to her feet. "Tyren! Wait!"

She dashed through the open door and whipped her head about, but Tyren was nowhere to be seen. The only illumination came from the blinding sun to the west. And then, at once, the light faded with a last sparkle and Warfang was drenched in darkness. She stood in the street a few seconds, eyes still darting about wildly, as her frantic mind collected her thoughts.

The Guardians were out, on what business she wasn't sure. She couldn't ask them for help. If she was going to find Tyren... she had to do it on her own.

This wasn't the time to panic. She could sit in the living room and cry woe-is-me, or she could go out and find the boy herself. So she took a deep breath to calm herself and set off into the dark. Is this what growing up is like? she thought as she skirted between buildings. Having to do things by yourself?

But when she returned home an hour later, her search yielded no results. She'd checked every corner, in every dark alley, behind every abandoned stall, but there was no small dragon to be found. And as she entered the house, she saw that it was just as dark and empty as she'd left it.

In that gloomy room, with only a candle still burning on the table, the girl collapsed onto the couch. Her body was numb as she stared wide-eyed and still at the floor. How could this be real? How could Tyren just disappear? She'd have to go out again soon... But what if she searched all night and couldn't find him?

Her only spot of luck was that the Guardians returned just a few minutes later. "Why is it so bloody dark in here?" Cyril was grumbling. "I feel like I live in a cave..."

Candles were lit, the room illuminated, and they all stopped in confusion upon seeing their young charge sitting stricken and alone. She looked up slowly, her face swimming in the shadows. "Tyren ran away."

The words startled all of them, but it was Terrador who recovered first. "What? How long ago was this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. He was as calm as usual, but even he looked worried.

"An hour ago," the girl mumbled, casting her gaze downwards. "I looked for him, but... We got in a fight..." She turned her head up, pain flooding into her eyes. "I didn't mean to! I didn't know he would...!"

"Alright, alright," Ignitus comforted, walking over and laying a paw on her shoulder. "You say it's been an hour? Let's wait another, and if he doesn't come back, we'll start a search party. Children run off often; it's not time to worry yet."

The girl knew that she should have felt better at these reassuring words, but she didn't. Tyren was out there, alone... And she was completely in the dark, helpless, unable to do anything but wait.

So they sat there for a long time, hoping to little avail. Occasionally someone would go look outside, check for a moving shadow or a scale reflecting in the dark, but nothing happened.

As time passed, the girl grew more and more restless. She went from sitting shocked on the couch to pacing about. Her steps grew heavier and more frantic as the minutes dragged on, until finally, when Volteer returned from checking the garden for the twelfth time, she slammed her fist into the wall.

The bang was still resounding as she cried, "I can't just sit here and do nothing!"

The four dragons exchanged glances and finally nodded. She was right–though perhaps she could have expressed it better–but it had been too long. For a little seven-year-old on the streets, or in the forest, alone and upset... It was time.

They couldn't have known, of course, just how serious the situation really was. But as they headed for the councilhouse to organize a search party, the girl felt that something was wrong. Whether it was just panic or a sixth sense, she couldn't be sure. But something wasn't right.

Her pleading gaze turned to the moons, though she knew those red and green rocks couldn't help her. What she didn't know was just how bad things were about to get, or the long-lasting consequences of what was going to happen that night.

~~...~~

It's been three hours. Do you really think he's going to make it?

If he got into the woods? No way. Kid's a goner.

If the apes don't get 'im, the wildlife will. Or the drops. All sortsa cliffs and hills down here. Little kid like that won't stand a chance.

They say that the Guardians' charge, that cheetah girl, hasn't been seen in public ever since... you know. Wonder what happened to her. And now this.

That boy's brother died. Then suddenly, he appears with the Guardians. Girl musta known that dead kid.

Maybe. It'll be a wonder if she doesn't go insane after this.

She wanted to scream at them to shut up, but only one word came out of her mouth: "Tyren!"

His name resounded across the woods, echoing through the bare trees, reaching into caves and sending creatures crawling and slithering into the dark. Screamed by a hundred voices, echoing across every square inch of the woods. But none of it reached the boy's ears.

Once, the girl thought, they had done this for her and Auren. Now she was the one walking in lines, shouting a name, searching for someone who could be lost or dead or gone forever. And the Guardians...

Well, she knew that they had done this at least once before. For that boy who'd run off into the woods, never to be seen again. She wondered if he was still alive. And then she remembered Tyren, and she caught her drifting thoughts to focus.

But the longer they were out there, the more her hope faded. They already had swept the city–and where could a young child hide for long in Warfang? He didn't know about the ruins, but they'd checked just in case. Nothing but dust and echoes.

So where could he be?

As the four of them stepped into a pretty little clearing that the girl would have happily dreamed in under other circumstances, Terrador leaned down to the girl and said quietly, "We may have to accept..."

"No," she cut him off loudly, expression turning stony. She ignored the people in her line who quickly turned away. "I'm not accepting anything until we have a body." The gravity of the words hit her; she swallowed and closed her eyes.

The earth dragon gazed down at her sympathetically. "The lands around Warfang are dangerous, full of sudden drops and tall cliffs... Rivers that could carry away even the strongest swimmer."

He went on for a bit rather unhelpfully, but the girl didn't hear him. She sucked in a breath and stopped as soon as he mentioned the cliffs and rivers. Big eyes followed the stream that snaked through the clearing, and her gaze turned to the eastward sky.

They all stopped to look at her sudden change of tone, and she narrowed her eyes, concern clouding over her face. A revelation she didn't want to face stood before her.

"I know where Tyren is."

~~...~~

The hill seemed taller than it ever had before, though climbing it was already no small feat. By the time they neared the top, the girl had to grab onto the great roots sticking out of the earth to drag herself up, and even the Guardians looked winded.

But as her head came over the top of the snow, she realized that she was right. Something about seeing Tyren there, so like his brother, sitting at the edge of the waterfall and staring down at the plummet below, set her heart pounding in her chest. But she took a breath and wiped the emotion off her face.

She glanced behind her to the Guardians and made a signal for them to stay where they were. She didn't want to crowd him. They listened, though none looked happy about it. "Tyren?"

The boy jumped and whirled around. Seeing the five of them encroaching, terror crept into his eyes. "Don't come any closer! Stay there!"

She saw that he was scared, so slowly, the teenager lowered herself into the snow. "Alright." Once the child had settled down again, she said as gently as she could manage without setting her voice shaking, "I'm not mad at you. I just want to bring you home."

The girl saw that he'd been crying as he wiped his eyes and turned back to the waterfall. "Uh-uh. I'm not going back there."

"Why?" she asked patiently, inching closer. He didn't notice.

Tyren didn't answer at first. He leaned forward, teetering over the edge, so close that he could feel the little bits of water biting at his scales. The girl shifted, anxious, but she wasn't close enough to grab him.

Finally, Tyren spoke. His voice was impassive, his eyes blank, and he sounded countless years older than he was. "I was thinking... What if I wasn't here next week? If one day, everyone woke up, and I wasn't there anymore?" He tilted his head, genuine curiosity in his expression. "What would happen then?"

Her heart jumped and she dug her fingers into her leg. These weren't the words of a seven-year-old. This was too much, too old for innocent little Tyren. She wanted to scream, to grab him, to pull him into a hug. But all of a sudden, the girl understood the gravity of the situation. One bad word, one wrong move, and...

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, feeling the Guardians' eyes burning into her. She was too young for this. Talking down a kid from the edge at her age... This wasn't right. But, well, it was too late to worry about that. Here she was.

She sealed her heart away and said, managing to only quaver just a little, "Then... Then we would all miss you, Tyren."

"But..." The child blinked. "Everything would be the same, right?"

Did he even know what he was saying? Tyren was smart, and she was sure that he understood death and even suicide, but no child his age could really comprehend the finality of death. In a fit of anger or frustration, maybe they could act without knowing the cause... But no child ever stood at the edge of a cliff and knew what they were doing. There had to be another reason.

"Maybe the world wouldn't change much," she said carefully. “But for us, the people who love you, the world would be different forever. Isn't that what matters?”

Finally, he looked back at her. The expression in his eyes startled her out of her impassiveness for a moment. How could this be the bright, intelligent boy who'd become like her little brother? "You wouldn't care," he said coldly.

"What do you...?"

"I heard them. You're going to leave. I heard them!" He glared at her accusingly, but it wasn't anger in his eyes; it was a wound, a scar she'd inflicted. "You'll go back and forget about me!"

There it was. That was the reason. She'd thought it was just that Auren had showed her his secret place... A small problem, easily fixed, a misunderstanding. But this... She had caused this. She had done this to him!

He won't jump, she thought frantically, breathing faster in panic, though her expression didn't change. He won't. It's not too late. But he was getting upset, and that was dangerous. "I won't forget," she reassured quietly. "And I'm not going to leave you so soon, I promise." It's not too late.

"I don't want you to leave at all!" The hatchling hopped to his feet, glaring back at her. He was crying now, tearstreaks making his scales glimmer in the moonlight. "If you're going to leave... I'll jump!"

He just wanted to stop her from going... She couldn't lie to him, she just couldn't. But she had to get him away from that edge, and fast. "What will that solve?" she implored. "If you do that, it won't bring Auren back. It won't keep me here! So..." She'd managed to inch close enough to almost touch him, and she held out her hand. "So, let's go home."

Tyren deflated and looked away, and the girl reached out, thinking it was over. The waterfall rushed wildly below him, the white water reaching up to grab his ankles. Far below, down a drop as tall as a mountain, rocks jutted out of the river. Waiting for him. She, his only friend–family–left, would go. But maybe, if he did this, he could stop it. In his young mind, after all the madness he'd endured, it was the only thing that made sense.

The boy only deliberated for a moment; if he thought about it, he would have understood that this wouldn't fix anything. So he didn't think. It happened so fast, one instant there, the next gone.

He jumped.

The girl screamed and threw herself forward, falling to the ground, but the air whooshed around her hands where he had been. She could only watch him disappear over the rocky edge. She scrambled forward, but by the time she made it to peer down the waterfall, he was gone. There was nothing but the screaming, howling river, the murky rushing waters.

Ignitus had already rushed forward with the others, and they all peered down over the edge as well. But not even a pale blue body was visible in the churning river far below.

Slowly, the girl reached out and grabbed him, still staring down that drop. Her grip was tight, her hands shaking, but she couldn't feel a thing. "Go," she croaked, her eyes a mix of desperation and determination, "Go get him... Or I swear to god, I'll throw myself off after him!"

The four didn't need any more push, and they didn't doubt it. Spreading their wings, the dragons flew as fast as they could towards the bottom. The girl wasn't far behind. A semi-steep grassy cliff face led down there, and she scrambled down the rocks without any care for her own safety.

At one point she slipped, falling backwards and cutting her arm on the jutting rocks as well as ruining her cloak with tears and dirt. She felt no pain despite the drops of blood that stained the crags. As soon as she reached the river in the valley far below, she hopped down, grunting as she landed on her feet, and started running.

Along the bank the five of them sprinted, eyes scanning for any sign of him. The water was clearer down here, but it churned with foam and debris, so it was several minutes before they saw anything.

The girl saw his body laying motionless far down the river, so far that she could barely see the place where he had jumped through the trees. She stood there staring for several seconds before it registered, and moments later she was on her knees in the shallow pool. "Tyren!"

He was as still as the grave, laying unconscious and unmoving with his body scarred with bruises and cuts, mud and sand. Breathe... she thought desperately, putting a hand under his nose and neck. Breathe...

Finally, a weak heartbeat reached her fingers, and the unconscious child let out a slow, raspy breath. "He's alive," she whispered, hunched over him, then screamed, "I found him! He's alive!"

The Guardians were there in moments, and she helped load him up onto Volteer's back, as he was the fastest flyer out of all of them. She noticed for a moment the odd angle his legs were at; the stretched, contorted position he was in. But then the dragon took off and he was gone.

He'll make it, she thought, not knowing if it was a lie or not.

Without hesitation she ran into the forest, to Warfang, the others at her heels all the way. At one time she would have laughed at outpacing them. At one time, the cold air on her skin, the wind rushing around her, would have left her exhilarated and happy.

Now, she felt like she was running for her life. If she didn't make it back home in time, Tyren would die, at least that's what she told herself. So she sprinted as if she was racing the reaper himself.

That was her last clear memory, running through the stark white forest. The rest of the night was a blur. By the time she made it home, Zara was there, treating Tyren who lay unconscious on the couch.

"Bones need to be set," the doctor was mumbling. "Water in his lungs... Two broken legs, maybe worse... A concussion at best... This is bad, very bad."

The words weren't at all reassuring, and the girl nearly fainted in the doorway. She had to catch the edge of the wall. But she managed to collapse next to the couch, in sight of Tyren but out of the way. And that was where she stayed all through that terrible night.

They don't tell you, she thought dissociatively some hours after she had fallen there. The way suicide is portrayed, they're gone in an instant. They don't tell you about the in-between, the waiting, the failed and almost-failed attempts. The moment relief floods in, you think they're going to be okay, their heart stops again. And you're back to square one.

Until you start to wish they would die or get better, just so it could be over either way.

She listened impassively to the cries of, "He stopped breathing!", Tyren's screams as he awoke in pain and slipped into unconsciousness again, until she became numb to them. Until dawn finally came, and the boy managed to stay breathing and stabilized for over an hour.

Zara, looking drained, went into the backyard to take a break and get some fresh air. She knew that she should have gone with him, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Tyren's side.

It was in that pretty morning light that Tyren finally opened his eyes. They were blurred and delirious, but his voice startled the girl out of her shocked reverie. "Fighta?" His voice had slipped back into that lisp that he'd been doing his best to muffle.

"Tyren!" The girl scooted over, taking his unbroken paw into her hands. That aloofness she'd been keeping up was gone; now, raw emotion was on her face. It didn't matter if he saw her cry now, so she let the tears slip down her cheeks.

The little boy grimaced in pain and exhaustion. His body hurt and it wasn't moving. "Sorry," he mumbled, his claws twitching in her hands, "Didn't mean to. Scared. I don't want you to go." He closed his eyes, nuzzling his head into the soft couch. "Don't go."

She had to take a breath and wipe away her tears, but soon, she was clasping his paw again with all her might. "I won't leave right now, Tyren. I'm here."

So the child slept. But the girl remained there for hours, keeping her promise. She didn't let go of him for a single second.

Chapter Text

The days melted away, one after the other. There in an instant... The next, gone.

If Tyren doesn't survive... the girl would think. She couldn't finish the sentence. But she wouldn't leave the child's side, even taking what little food she could choke down in his room. His little blue paw never left her hands.

And the boy slept. He was covered with gauze, bruises, and casts. Three legs broken, fractured ribs, worse. But, all things considered, he'd come out fortunate.

After a few weeks of anxious hovering, Tyren finally began to wake up, though he remained bound to his bed. Now conscious, he returned to his former self. It was like a spell had been cast on him. His anger was forgotten. And though he was too tired to smile, his good humour was unfailing.

The girl was happy to stay at his side, taking his food to him, reading to him, and whatever else he needed. Her apathy was broken now as well. Those first few weeks, sitting in the dark light of his room staring at his broken form, not knowing if he'd survive... It was awful.

But now, her small smile was genuine. Tyren was alive, and that was all that mattered. Though something remained, hovering in the back of her mind. The thought, worming its way in: what if he did this again? When she left... How would he react?

I shouldn't even be thinking of leaving, she thought one rather warm winter day, curled up on the floor next to Tyren's bed. The book she'd been reading aloud sat idly on her lap. After the reason he did that, I'm still...

But she had to say it. "Tyren?"

The child had been resting, and one light purple eye popped open. "Mm?" He yawned, flashing sharp teeth, and stretched as much as his cast-weighted legs would let him.

The words caught in her throat, and she had to take a breath. Closing her eyes, the girl continued, "You understand why I still have to leave, right?"

Both eyes were on her now. But he said hesitantly, "Your sister."

She nodded. "My sister is in the place I came from. So, that's why. I want to stay, but she doesn't have anybody." The girl looked at him, a bit of fear seeping into her eyes. She was at the edge of the cliff again, watching him slip through her fingers. "But... Tyren, if you need me to stay around a little longer, even once I figure out how to get home..."

"You need to." His voice was resolute, and the eyes closed again. But he reached out a small paw. "I'll be okay. Promise."

The girl stared a moment, eyes welling up with tears, then took the paw and clasped it in her hand. "I'm sorry." She managed to hold back her tears, but her voice was choking. "If it wasn't for that, I would stay here forever!"

Outside the door, just a few feet away, Ignitus stood listening with his eyes narrowed in thought. He had come to check on them, but hearing their conversation, couldn't help but stop to listen.

That was one thing that still perplexed him, one thing that he just couldn't figure out about this girl. She didn't talk about herself very often, but from what little she had said, he'd learned two things: one, that she was deeply loyal to her sister, and two, the world she came from was not exactly kind.

She'd always insist that she had to go home because she "belonged" there, because she couldn't ever feel right here, but he knew that she loved this world. She was happy. So why? Why did she torment herself in making a choice contrary to what seemed obvious? Even when she was leaving behind someone who needed her just as much as her sister did, still she remained resolute.

When he came back a few hours later, evening had fallen on the world, draping its golden veil over Warfang. Dust-dancing light sparkled in through the window, illuminating the two children who were passed out cold.

Afternoon on this side of the house was often dark, but a few orange rays still pierced the glass today, giving Tyren's room an angelic glow. The boy lay under the covers, and his friend still sat on the floor, leaning one arm on the bed for support.

As Ignitus checked Tyren's temperature from the other side of the bed, his gaze fell on the girl, who lay there with a feverish pallor on her face. A thought struck him then. Maybe... he could help her.

She was making herself sick with worry. Her once flushed face was now pale, her body weak, the light in her eyes dulled as if from an illness. And, more than that, she was tortured by her memories, by her choice. If it kept up, she's surely fall sicker than Tyren, and he could help her.

She was pulling away from them all, but she couldn't work through her pain on her own, that much was for sure. The girl convinced herself that this was her burden to bear, and bear it alone she would, but she had friends. He couldn't and wouldn't make her even if he did this, but maybe it could convince her to face her demons instead of letting them fester.

But the thought gave him pause. He'd never abused his gift, not once, though...

He had the power to erase her memories.

That was not his intentions, and she wouldn't gain anything from that. Her pain could be eased, but having forgotten everything, she'd be weaker than when she began. And that would be wrong, to tamper with her memories without asking.

There was something else he could do. A way to make her confront the nightmares that were clinging to her, without destroying her recollections or manipulating her perception. Still, he hesitated. He didn't want to interfere... But at the same time, he couldn't just watch as she suffered alone, refusing help.

If this was the only way to get to her... Then he had to at least try.

The dragon crossed to the other side of the room, stepping softly, then stopped next to her. The girl's head was turned to the side and her breaths were frenetic, though she was deep in sleep. She looked anything but peaceful, more like she was afflicted with ghosts and night terrors.

Seeing this only solidified his decision. Reaching a paw out, he placed it on her forehead and closed his eyes.

The Pool of Visions had acted like a tool to enhance his gift of sight. Without it, his power was weaker. He still caught stray thoughts and dreams, but physical contact was the only way to see them clearly. Even brushing shoulders would grant a burst of clarity.

So, in a moment, he was plunged into her mind: a vast, swirling black ocean untouched by gleeful sunlight. Sinking beneath the surface into the unknown.

He fell until he hit bottom, far from the surface and into the deep. As usual, the wall was there, as formidable as ever. But weaker than it had once been. She'd grown more trusting, less wary. Still, her nature hadn't changed, and she'd be quicker to distrust someone than to give in.

Something swirled around him, curious, and it sent something out. A query. Who are you? He answered, and the wall, once solid concrete, hesitated and then toppled down. In the dust thrown up by the destruction, her world was changing. Into an even deeper black void he stepped, unafraid.

There was a silhouette in the distance, and the dragon stepped closer until he reached her. She was sitting in the middle of this emptiness, alone, gazing off into the void. And there was something about her that was a little different, like she was flickering in an out of reality.

She didn't quite look like herself. That was it, he realized. At one moment she looked like a child, and the next, a few years too old. Her perception of herself was unsure, and it didn't match the way she looked. She'd been through as much as an adult, and yet she clung to her youth, to the childhood that had never a chance to play out.

The girl looked up and nodded at his approach, familiarity in her eyes. But she said nothing as her gaze turned back to the emptiness. She sat on a tall stump, which was fitting enough. Her mind was always floating outdoors, to the forest. Even here in the stillness, there was a far-away sound like the wind rustling tree leaves.

Ignitus examined her a moment then sat, his tail curled around him. Some people reacted with anger or fear at seeing him here, but she seemed docile enough. Still, he couldn't make a beeline for her memories. He had no sense of direction, and maybe just talking would be enough. "I can't understand," he said carefully. The girl tilted her head in interest. "Why do you fight so hard to go home?"

She hesitated a moment, then lifted her arm. Before her a picture of a little girl appeared, a sweet smile on her sincere face. Her hair, sparkling golden, sparkled and buffeted in the non-existent wind... But she was holographic, flickering. A memory.

In a moment, the child faded and turned to light and dust, scattering into a million particles. The girl reached out, distressed, but her sister was gone.

Ignitus sighed. He'd garnered that much. "But what happened to you?" he insisted. "There's more to this than that. If it was just that one person, even your sister, without context... Would you still make that choice?"

The girl hesitated a moment, then looked away. If her sister was somewhere safe... If she'd come from a happy world, a peaceful home, then maybe...

The Guardian turned, going off in search of her memories. Panicked, the girl hopped off her stump and chased after him, still silent and unable to shout. She stepped in front of him and motioned for him to stop.

He looked down at her. "I want to help," he said. "You have to face your memories, or you're only going to suffer more." The dragon set off again.

Frustrated, the girl raised her arm, and a wall came up sharply around them. She crossed her arms and glared as Ignitus glanced back in exasperation.

"I'm not going to force you to tell me," he said patiently. "If you wish, then I'll go. I only want to help. That's all."

The girl stopped a moment, then slowly lowered her arm. The walls came down with it, and the Guardian continued his walk, the child staring after him. But after a moment she took off running, dashing in front of him again. He stopped, and she pointed. All around them, the void was changing, shifting, until suddenly they were just bystanders in a train of memories.

Sunlight streamed in, and in the distance, a pretty sparkling ocean framed the little grey beach. Two girls' laughter echoed all around them, and one's curly golden hair was flouncing as she looked back with a smile. And there were more, more beaches, more smiles, more of the ocean always shining bright.

Then there were memories that were more familiar to Ignitus. Sometimes he saw himself, or the other Guardians. Back in the Temple, walking along in the forest, or there in Warfang. Those little exchanges she valued so much, as simple as a small conversation or a smile from the normally serious four.

And the things he hadn't seen. The moonlit nights, the cacophony of laughter, the five familiar faces. He could feel her joy everywhere; their happiness was palpable, intoxicating, buzzing in the air around them. A lantern-lit meeting on the wall, a romp through the snowy forest...

But for a moment, the memories faded. For just a split second, they were plunged into darkness, fear, and pain. The dirty, dark house haunted her still, and those bloody footprints in the snow left a garish red mark in her mind. The girl cringed, and the sunny, happy thoughts continued until they were deposited back in the void again.

But he had seen it, and he shook his head. "That isn't the whole story," he said, turning to set off again.

The girl reached her arm out, but she could only stand there, watching him go. She opened her mouth as if to shout, but only silence came out. He was getting closer to the truth, and she didn't want to face that. A part of her knew she had to, or it would eat her up from within... But if she kept concealing, hiding, everything would stay the same. And there is nothing more terrible than the unknown.

But he was on the verge of her memories now, like he stood at the edge of a cliff, looking down at them. One step and they'd fall. But when she tried to run, to stop him from untapping the things she'd sealed away, she found something new.

A wall, not of stone, but of glass, blocking her path. She banged her hands against it, then harder. It cracked, and she stared at the spiderweb spreading through the perfect, invisible barrier. He was getting closer, too close, reaching a paw out towards the light.

Stop... she thought, slamming her hands into the glass. As he reached them, the pool of hidden memories, the whole thing shattered and rained down. "Stop!"

It was instantaneous. The memories escaped, finally free, and Ignitus stopped as they zipped by him. He got it now. He understood why she sealed these thoughts away... Why she had to go home. A flash like lightning filled the girl's world, and in a moment, white was all they knew. A peaceful nonexistence, a nothingness beyond compare.

It could have been minutes or hours later when Ignitus finally came back to himself, though he realized that he was still in the girl's world. Nothing had changed, really. The void was just as black, the world as still and empty. But a sense of unease lingered in the air.

When he found her, he for a moment wasn't sure that it was his friend at all. She looked ten thousand years older, eyes hollow, body shaking. Chains like blinding light held her, and though she stood proud, both her arms were being dragged to the floor.

The girl looked up, but she couldn't be sure whether he was real or just a memory. Defiance still lingered in her eyes, but she was broken. This was what she had become after all these years and weeks of torment. Her facade of happiness, of serenity, was only to keep her sane. She was trying, but she'd always had to be the strong one, and it was wearing on her.

Seeing her friend, real or not, she was reminded of the past. As she looked up, frazzled brown hair falling into her face, she saw a memory, distant. She was walking along with the Guardians, laughing, the pretty forest casting dancing shadows all around them. On the way to Warfang, before all this mess had happened.

She struggled towards it, tried just to lift her arm and reach out, but bound by chains, she found herself immobile. Stuck in the past, unable to move forward.

But he had seen everything he'd needed to. Not just her memories, but the context behind them; the reason she'd fight and die for the chance to go home, even though she so desperately didn't want to. So the dragon crouched down next to her, even as she stared with tired, defeated eyes.

"You remind me of Cynder," he said. That got her attention, and she looked up in confusion. "You feel bound to your past, haunted by all of your failures, until you feel obligated to do something to redeem it..." He looked down with regret; he hadn't done enough to stop Cynder from running away.

"But even if that's a decision you feel you must make..." Ignitus looked up again. "You need not let your past control you. You'll always have a choice. And you don't need to erase these memories or lock them away... You can be happy in spite of them, can you not?"

She was staring now, uncertainty in her eyes. She'd never thought of that before. It had always been about forgetting, erasing, making new memories... Not about accepting it and moving on.

The dragon had already started to walk away, leaving her to contemplate and perhaps find reason, but he looked back. "No matter what you decide to do, we'll all be behind you. And if you must go home, everyone will be alright... Tyren included." He closed his eyes. "But you do have a choice. Remember that."

He turned to step deeper into the lightening void. But as he disappeared, the girl lifted her arms and found them unchained.

~~...~~

Sunlight was streaming brightly through the frosty glass window, warming the girl's back as she opened her eyes. Tyren was out from under the covers, laying a few inches away and watching her. Her hair was on fire, and her eyes were like black suns in the light that couldn't quite touch her face.

Normally the girl would only feel alright for a moment after awakening, until she'd remember, and the weight of the world would hit her like a train. But today, that peaceful feeling never faded. And seeing the boy sitting there examining her seriously made her smile.

"Hey..." She reached out her hand, and Tyren put his paw in hers. "You're awake, huh? Guess that makes me the lazy one."

Her quip elicited a smile from the boy, and he sat up as she stretched. "I wanna get down."

"Hmm?" She glanced at him and quirked an eyebrow. "You still have three legs in a cast. I don't think you'll be able to walk."

His answer was immediate. "Let me try."

Shrugging, the girl carefully picked him up and set him on the ground. The child struggled for a moment to stand on his bulky limbs, but finally managed to hobble a few steps forward.

"Hey, you're doing it!" the girl cheered, plopping down on the bed. "Does it hurt?"

Tyren shook his head and continued his lopsided walking. Just then, they heard heavy steps coming down the hall, and a blue head poked his head around the corner. "Walking already?" Zara asked in surprise, stepping in and setting his bag down.

"Is that alright?" the girl asked anxiously. "I figured it wouldn't hurt him, I mean–"

Zara smiled gently at her. "A little exercise never hurt anyone." He rooted through his bag, taking out a shiny metal tool she couldn't identify. "And young dragons heal fast. It's about time he started walking!" The great dragon hoisted up Tyren onto the bed to begin his examination.

"So... He'll be alright soon?" she asked, still staring with worried eyes at the nonchalant little dragon.

The doctor glanced at her. Seeing the dark circles under her tired eyes, he took a good look. He'd been in a tizzy focusing on Tyren's well-being, even the relatively calm past week, and he hadn't noticed... The girl looked like a skeleton, or a ghost.

"Have you been eating well?" he asked carefully, taking her arm in his paw. Her fingers were shaking. He closed his eyes and sighed; silly of him to not pay attention to her health as well. She must not have eaten or rested hardly at all for two weeks.

"Why don't you go make some breakfast for you and Tyren?" he suggested. "The child's alright," he ruffled the boy's head, who giggled in delight, "and nothing much interesting is going on here. Just a standard examination."

The girl considered this a moment, and rose. Yesterday, she wouldn't have dreamed of leaving Tyren's side... But suddenly, she felt assured that he'd be alright. "Okay," she agreed. Suddenly feeling cheerful, she flounced out of the room and into the sun-drenched hall. She'd hardly left for days, and it'd be nice to go downstairs for once!

The past while, everything had seemed muted and gray. Her hands were unfeeling, her body always exhausted, colours dull and everything around her unremarkable. But as she stepped into that pretty hall, it felt like she was walking into her old life again. She felt the warmth of the sun and saw the world with the same intense passion from before.

Even the Guardians exchanged confused glances as she greeted them with a cheerful good morning. She'd been skulking about for a month now, unsmiling, but for a moment it was like they had stepped back in time.

Ignitus followed her to the kitchen, where she stood chopping fruit that the small dragon could eat easily. The sun had risen enough to allow light to flood the north-facing window, but shadows still curled and stretched in the corners.

"How are you?" he asked carefully, tilting his head. The girl blinked and looked back, her sunny aura unfading. She certainly seemed happier. "You've been rather depressed these past few weeks. Are you feeling alright?"

"Actually..." She smiled and turned back to her task. "I feel fine. Tyren will be okay, so... There's no reason to keep myself down."

The dragon stood watching her a moment, then nodded. Perhaps he had helped after all, and that was the best he could hope for. "Well, good, good." He glanced back to the living room as she scraped the chopped fruit into a bowl. "Speaking of which," he said, "Here he comes now."

The girl looked up in surprise and stepped into the bright living room. Tyren was carefully making his way down the stairs, helped by a grinning Zara. Only one of the boy's legs was still in a cast, and most of his bandages were gone. It seemed that he'd nearly fully recovered.

Tyren beamed at finally being able to walk half-normally. Once down the stairs, he skipped about proudly. "I can walk again!"

Zara smirked. "Another week and you'll be running around outside like normal, little one. In the meanwhile," he picked up his bag and made for the front door, "Why don't you two go to the festival? It should be coming 'round soon. It'll be a good chance for you to get some fresh air." With a final wave, the doctor departed.

The Winter Festival? the girl thought. She'd forgotten about that, ever since Tarrok had made her read that poster. Even after the raid, they were still going through with it? She almost smirked–perhaps it was defiance; if those apes heard the sounds of celebration, they'd know that their attack had done nothing.

"What do you think, Tyren?" she suggested. "You wanna go to the festival?"

The little dragon stared at her dubiously. "Mama never took us there. She said that I could get trampled, and the music would hurt our ears, and the candy would make us sick, and..."

The girl hesitated; she didn't want to contradict a dead person. "Well..." she said carefully, "You won't get run over if I'm with you. And... I'll make sure you won't eat too much bad food!" Tyren still looked unsure, so she said with a grin, "There'll be a parade, and fireworks, and everything... I bet I can get you one to study. There's lots of inventions you can make with those."

He thought about this; a mini-explosion could be a source of power for some of his creations.

"Just go," Cyril groaned from where he was writing on the table. "I'm tired of seeing you two moping around all day. Maybe that racket will keep you out-of-doors for a few hours."

The girl grinned at Tyren, who finally beamed back. It was settled, then. In the distance, they could hear the sound of a crowd and instruments approaching, so the two dashed outside to meet them.

It was the parade, approaching quickly from down the street. Though this side of the neighborhood was uphill, the girl couldn't see to the end of the procession. Her and her companion ran to enter the crowd, sinking into a sea of smiling people there to chase the parade.

But Tyren, who was already rather small and only seven besides, was blind in a sea of legs. Seeing his trouble, the girl lifted him up onto her back so that his front paws flopped over her hood. Now, way up in the air, the boy beamed. "Look!" he cried in excitement, pointing a clawed paw.

There were dragons marching in intricately made heavy armour, moles carrying colourful banners or spinning about what looked like sparklers, cheetahs dancing lithely and performing tricks, people playing flutes and banging drums and tossing out treats to the crowd, and all sorts of other things indescribable. For a fairly quiet, unremarkable city, this was quite the spectacle.

Tyren had led a rather quiet life unexposed to such excitement, and in his young mind, even the ravine was incomparable to this. He couldn't seem to stop laughing at the festivities, and even the girl was smiling under her bandanna.

Standing in that crowd watching the parade go by, the thought struck her suddenly. We can move on.

Auren was gone, but that didn't mean they had to exist in sadness and fear forever. There was a chance for them–a chance to be happy, a chance to live. There was still happiness in this world. There was still hope.

And it wasn't about forgetting Auren. It wasn't about replacing the people you loved, finding more to help you forget. It was about accepting that they were gone, but also knowing that you can be happy despite that. You can go on with your life.

Tyren's spark would never be erased. His past was marred with blood and loss, but inside him there was light. He was an eternally cheerful child, bright and intelligent, who loved inventing new things. And he didn't have to bury that with his brother. He could still be that child.

And she, the girl who had once smiled brightly, who had held those she loved close to her heart and did her best to always be kind... That could come back too. For both of them, in spite of everything, there would always be hope. That was what Auren's memory should mean; that boy had never given up, not once, and they wouldn't either.

That was something amazing. The one beautiful thing she had pulled from the wreckage; shining, glittering, as she reached out to take it. And she held on to that small promise, that Tyren's future would never be ruined by his past. She would be there to make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Things got better. The time that passed was finally pleasant, not just bearable, and things were starting to get back to normal.

Tyren, essentially, went back to his old self. His lavender eyes weren't the shining sparks they'd once been, true, but his endless curiosity was unfettered. Whether he was out exploring the city or building quietly in his room, he did it with all the enthusiasm he could muster.

The girl's nightmares mostly went away. She stopped haunting the wall, moving about like a black ghost through the city. There were still reminders–one day, someone slammed a cabinet with particular vigor, and the loud noise left her scampering to hide, and noticeably rattled for quite a while afterwards.

But... She, too, was coming back to herself. And she was ready for life to return to normal.

The girl had resumed her morning meetings with Volteer. Today was overcast and snow was blocking out the windows, so the library was shrouded in an almost-eerie darkness. Still, the cheerful pair could probably make even the Well of Souls seem like a nice place. So the girl was prepared for a typical morning as she plopped into the chair.

Today, though, the table was already spread with a variety of papers, books, and tools–mostly maps, she noticed. "What project is this?" she quipped, amused.

The electric Guardian had been hunched over a colourful map, but he finally noticed her. He looked troubled as he spoke. "I've gone over every map in this library–examined all the official maps to date, some made before even Warfang was built–" the dragon set down the dividing compass and sighed, "and yet, I still can't find a single one that contains the White Isle. Or any sort of unmarked land mass, for that matter."

The girl felt... uneasy, being reminded of her homeward quest. She was just beginning to settle in again. But she pushed that aside. "Why do you think that is?" She pointed to a small landmass in the west. "They'd have to fly over this part of the ocean to get to that island, so it's not like nobody's gone there before. They'd at least see the fog and mark it down."

"That's true." Volteer nodded, pondering over the map. "Perhaps there's another reason..."

The girl's eyes narrowed. "It was scrubbed from the map intentionally." She looked up. "Could the Chronicler do that?"

"I don't think it was the Chronicler," the Guardian answered. "Perhaps the elders from hundreds of years ago were aware of his location, but decided to have it removed to protect him. And after that..." Volteer looked down. "The war began, and with the apes patrolling all over the sea, it became unsafe to travel. Most especially for dragons."

"So everyone just... forgot." She pondered this for a bit, fingers tapping on the table. "Well..." the girl said, "What about an explorer's personal map, one they drew themselves?"

Volteer's eyes lit up. "Spectacular idea, young one! If I could find such a map, from a few hundred years ago, perhaps..." He pondered for a moment, then nodded. "I'll begin my search right away. We may have you home by springtime!"

The girl smiled, though the light didn't quite reach her eyes. She wasn't quite sure what to make of this revelation. She'd been feeling suddenly less conflicted about what she'd have to do, but even so, it was best when she just avoided thinking about it.

The old dragon, though, noticed her hesitation. "Just keep in mind, young one... You don't have to leave as soon as you know how. You and Tyren are welcome as long as you'd like." He smiled. "Things will certainly be less interesting, engaging, entertaining without you."

Black eyes examined him a moment, and she nodded. "...Yeah. Thanks."

Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn't. Her resolute conviction, the guilt tearing at her insides, that had all gone away. But her determination remained. And as she stood to leave, she knew, as she'd always known, what she would have to do.

The only difference from before was that the pain of regret had faded, leaving just a sting.

~~...~~

Time passed, swirling away and leaving nothing in its wake. But always, the reminder lingered in the back of her mind. Soon, too soon, she'd be going home.

She wasn't afraid of her father anymore. No, she'd stand her ground next they met. She'd stop cowering and get her and Lily out... somewhere. Anywhere. Even if she had to kill him, she'd do something.

But... She'd miss this place. She couldn't get it off her mind, the thought that eventually, it all would go away. It was all she'd been worrying about, but how could she not? This was her home. Again and again, she found herself turning over this anxiety in her mind. No matter how far she had come, every path led back to this.

Still, she tried to make the best of it. Tyren helped keep her distracted, always dragging her along or having her help build things. It wasn't quite the same as before, but she enjoyed it, and the child was content. She began to let that meeting slip from her mind.

It was the dream that shook her, sent her relapsing into the fields of trepidation again.

There was something different about this dream, something like it wasn't quite her own. She'd felt like that before–in the back of her mind, there was that wisp of a vivid memory; the train, the falling glass, and... something else. These weren't the nonsense she usually saw. They were different.

Down in a void, as black as the nighttime sea. Floating for eternity in this endless emptiness. In the distance there was a faint light, coming closer though she wasn't moving. She watched, head tilted. What was that light? Could she ever reach it?

And then it was there, as clear as if she was peering through a magic mirror, and the girl touched her hands to the glass-like barrier before her. Down a dark chasm, deep under a mountain, an orange light was pulsing like a heartbeat. And there they were, the trio, two of them pressing into Spyro. He still floated, forever mid-flight, his wings wrapped around his friends.

Will I ever get to meet you? she thought. It was something she hadn't considered, but it made her feel uneasy. The Guardians were one thing, but messing directly with the most important people in this world's future...

Down the long bridge over the chasm she saw them approaching. Two dark cloaked figures, one noticeably shorter than the other. "Is that them?" the taller one asked, tilting his head. Under his blood red hood, green eyes were glittering.

There was a short laugh from the female. The girl jumped and pressed against the glass as a familiar voice reached her. "What do you think?"

This is the future... she thought, eyes widening. She looked down at her blurry hand and curled the fingers; it followed her command as if she was awake. And she could feel the cool, smooth glass, the emptiness of the void around her. Could this just be a dream?

There was silence in that dark room as the two stared at the crystal. "Are you sure about this?" the girl asked, and her dream self examined her intently as she pushed her hood down. She didn't look much different, but she definitely seemed to be a little older. But perhaps that was just the look in her eyes. Something had changed. "Maybe we should let this play out."

"It's the right day." The cheetah pulled down his silken red hood as well, and behind her wall, she recognized him as Hunter. "If what you say is true, they'll be cursed and put in a dire situation. We can avoid that."

The girl nodded. "I'm just not sure if it's safe to mess with it more than just my presence already will." She gazed around the dark room, the silhouetted fire-pots hanging from the ceiling, the looming cliffs, and slumped. "Maybe I should have just stayed in Warfang."

Hunter shook his head and held out the torch in his hands, lighting up the orangey-gold mineral. "The Guardians chose you for a reason. We all decided that this was the best way. They'll make it to Warfang, and from there, we'll let things play out as you say they will."

"But Ignitus..."

"He, like you, does not wish to tamper with this any more than necessary to ensure Spyro's safety."

The cave's silence was crushing, and the girl swallowed, her face turning stony. She stepped forward quickly. "Let's get them out of there."

Her dream self felt something tugging her back, dragging her into the void, but she clung on tightly. Even if this was just a vivid dream, she had to know what would happen next. She laid her hands flat on the barrier, feeling almost that if she pressed hard enough, she might go flying right through.

The duo stepped forward, approaching the glowing crystal with caution. Even the mundane girl could feel the magic emanating off this great glassy crystal, like heat from a fire. She put her hand on it and recoiled as its power coursed through her, soon dissipating as it found its new host lacking the ability to contain it.

Hunter was rather slim and lithe, but he was still stronger than the girl, so he was the one to brandish the blunt weapon. Steadying himself, he slammed it into the gemstone, sending a chip flying. Again, and again, and–

The burst of illumination sent them both stumbling, covering their eyes, and it even knocked Hunter to the ground. There was a terrible rumble and crash as the blast of magic escaped the crystal, sending rocks falling and dust flying. But when the dust cleared and light faded, the pair looked up and saw an arena scattered with shards of crystals, as well as the bodies of the lost trio.

When Spyro opened his eyes several minutes later, his vision was bleary and his body stiff. But as he looked up, purple met black, and the dragon squinted up in confusion at the odd creature crouching over him.

"Who are you?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse and rough, though curiosity glimmered in his expression.

She examined him a moment, eyes darting over his face, before flashing a grin. "I'm the Metal Guardian," she said, sticking out her hand to help him up. "Nice to meetcha."

The girl didn't have a chance to see Spyro's incredulous look, for the void at that moment became more insistent. Away that portal of insight flew as invisible hands dragged her into the dark. All around her, the air was buzzing as voices whispered her name.

Come back, they said in her ear. Time to come home. Go home...

And that was all she knew, the whispering well of eternity, before she was pulled back to reality and opened her eyes.

~~...~~

Everyone was gathered in the living room at Volteer's request one sunny day. From all the Guardians to even little Tyren, who sat perched regally on the edge of the couch, that tall-ceilinged room almost seemed crowded by now.

Presently, the girl entered the scene, hopping down the last few stairs. "I'm here," she called, examining this "family meeting" with a raised eyebrow and a smile. "What's all this about?"

"Well," the electric Guardian, who stood in a perfectly centered shaft of sunlight emanating from the glass doors, launched into an onslaught of words, "You see, throughout these past few moons I have been doing research, much study of the utmost importance, reading through endless volumes and countless documents, on a search, a quest, a mission to find–"

Cyril groaned, his head leaned on one paw. "Get on with it, old dragon."

"–I think I've finally discovered how to get our friend home," Volteer finished concisely.

Everyone stopped and stared, mouths agape. They wouldn't have been more taken off-guard if Volteer had said that Malefor had come to call for tea.

"This isn't just speculation?" Terrador asked evenly, quickly masking his own surprise. "You've made a few jumps in your research endeavours before, Volteer."

He shook his head. "No. I'm certain." The golden-scaled dragon began pacing through the wide room. "I'd hit quite the roadblock for a long time. Every map I looked at, every geographical book... Not a single mention of the White Isle."

Volteer gestured to the girl, whose expression was unreadable, though she still stood motionless at the edge of the stairs. "But she pointed out that I was going at it all wrong. So I paid a visit to an old friend..." The Guardian continued his pacing. "A historian. If anyone had an ancient explorer's map from two hundred years ago, it would certainly be her.

"And that's where I found this." He set the map on the table, and everyone leaned forward. Its edges were ripped, the penciling faded but readable. Volteer pointed to the island the Temple sat on, then the mainland, and then to the stretch of ocean.

And there it was. A small island, tiny, with intentionally smudged scribbles all around it. To represent fog, the girl realized.

The White Isle.

Everyone looked up in realization. They had done it; the girl could go home. "The explorer's account spoke of an island cloaked in mist, resonating with magic, and that he felt as if compelled not to approach," the electric Guardian said.

"Well..." Cyril raised his eyeridges. "I don't know what bloody else that would be."

Volteer nodded, though he looked uncertain as he spoke. "So... Now that we know where it is, the question is... What now?"

All eyes turned to the girl.She was staring at the ground, thinking hard, but she looked at all of them now. The time had finally come... All this worrying and angsting, all her conviction... Suddenly, it felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

She hadn't expected it. Not this early. Maybe after Malefor had been defeated... A few years after, even! Time to just live life, to help Tyren move on, for both of them to heal. But this...

"I..." She hesitated, and her gaze turned behind her, to the city that lay beyond the window. Quickly, she grasped for an excuse and found one. "Well, I couldn't make that journey alone..."

"Of course not," Ignitus interjected, looking confused that she'd even suggested it. "We would all go with you."

The girl shook her head and pointed outside. "The city is in danger. It's been nearly a month since the last attack... Perfect time for them to regroup and try again. If the four of you leave, and worse, if they learned you had gone..."

That somehow hadn't crossed their minds, and their eyes widened in realization. She was right. If Malefor's forces learned that Warfang was without its greatest leaders, at a time when they were still weakened, the city would be annihilated. They'd return to nothing more than blackened rubble.

She nodded, knowing she'd convinced them. "Then, we'll have to wait until Malefor is defeated and it's safe to travel again. There's no other option."

A few seconds of silence passed. Tyren and the girl had begun to look relieved when Terrador spoke up. "If only one of us went with you, Warfang would not be at a major disadvantage. That would be enough to deliver you safely to the Chronicler, and should an attack happen–provoked or not–the three left would be enough force to hold them off.

"Not to mention," the green dragon continued tactically, "If it is as you say, that the major raid will happen this summer, they'll most likely wait and build up their forces until then."

Ignitus nodded. "He's right. I don't believe we should expect any more attacks until this summer." The fire Guardian considered a moment, though all of them already knew who would volunteer. "If you wish to make the journey, then I will go."

The girl's expression had fallen during this exchange, and now the white floor was the only thing she could seem to look at. "Well, but... Tyren, if I went, he might... He needs me." Her gaze rose to the purple eyes, nearly as piercing as his brother's had been. "You need me," she insisted.

The little dragon broke her gaze for a moment, thinking. He had the power to make her stay, and he knew it. Slowly, Tyren hopped off his seat and made his way over to the girl. She was staring at him, eyes misty, when he reached up and slipped a paw into her hand. "I'll be okay," he said, the smallest of smiles gracing his face. "You need your sister."

She gazed at the boy a moment longer, then closed her eyes and pushed back the tears. Then... That was it, wasn't it?

Ignitus was examining her. He of course knew of her reluctance. "It's up to you," he said carefully. "Nobody is making you go. This is your choice, and none of us can make it for you."

The words hit her, and girl looked up slowly until her eyes met his. There was a new fire in her eyes, one that was burning with all the perseverance and determination that had delivered her to this point. He was right. This was her choice, and she had to make peace with it. "I'm going," she said, squaring her shoulders. "If you'll take me, then... Then I have to try."

"Alright." The dragon was still watching her, but he shrugged. "It's settled, then."

It was done. The girl sighed with mixed relief. For a moment her thoughts tugged her back, sinking into her wonderings. Well, maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe the Chronicler couldn't do anything for her. Maybe...

She stopped herself then, shaking her head. No more maybes. What happened happened. Whether she was stuck here forever or had to go home, she'd make peace with it. She'd live with whatever happened.

But her vigor died out, and her shoulders slumped, averting her eyes. "When?"

"It's nearly spring..." Ignitus considered a moment. "Can you be sure that Spyro awoke in summer?"

The girl faltered a moment. She'd been here about seven or eight human months, and it was hard to believe that winter was almost over. "Well... No. It could have been late spring or early fall."

"And the only warning we have of his imminent awakening is Meadow's disappearance the night before." He nodded. "Then, the sooner we leave the better. We need to go before Spyro comes back, and if we put it off too long..." The old dragon thought a moment, red eyes scanning the table. "A week to prepare, then."

She swallowed. A week... Just one week, and her life in Warfang would come to an end. The weight of that knowledge was staggering.

"Well..." She took a breath and put on a cheerful face, one she herself wasn't sure was sincere. "Well, I guess I'd better... start preparing, then."

The girl stepped back towards the stairs, almost hoping they'd stop her for some reason, but they all just was nothing left to say. So, turning, she set up that wide staircase, feeling with every step like she was climbing away from her life, leaving it behind forever.

She thought she had faced The End before, danced the coda and lived through the aftermath, looked ahead to the future and promised to continue. But she realized now, with it all looming over her, that the end had only just begun.

Chapter Text

The stairs that loomed dark and shadowy before her usually marked a pleasant climb. It was always fun to pay Addison a visit, and the two would watch the distant landscapes, discuss a book, or just sit quietly together. Those were the blissful times she always looked forward to, ever since the gang broke up.

But tonight, it was different. It had only been a few hours since she'd learned that she had just a few days left, and the knowledge weighted her as she mounted those steps. This was the end. But she didn't want to leave things unsaid, like she had with Serena. No more secrets, no more lies. If she had to go out, she wasn't going to do it like this.

One last person to know her true self, right? There were so many now.

Her head popped over the trapdoor, and Addison's ear flicked. He really was a well-trained spy. "Greetings, miss," he said, not looking up from his book, though a small smile graced his features. "I was hoping I'd see you tonight."

His little speeches never failed to make her smile. "Any reason?"

The mole shook his head, glancing back at her. "No, not in particular. Just looking for a bit of company," he said warmly.

"Well, I had a reason for coming. I have to tell you the truth."

He gazed at her expectantly while she stood there, suddenly at a loss for words. She'd prepared that first big monologue, but couldn't think of anything else to say.

Well, she thought, Like ripping off a bandaid, right? So, without hesitation, she pulled down her hood and bandanna, standing there for the full moons to see her human face.

The mole stared with giant eyes that only seemed to get bigger, the sketchbook he was holding poised in the air. Several seconds passed in silence, until finally, the girl could muster the will to speak again. "Um... Addison?"

The words snapped him into action, and the tiny mole became a blur. The chair toppled over and the book sailed towards her as he cannonballed his small body at a table in the corner.

"Addison?!" the girl cried, stumbling backwards and slamming her elbows onto the concrete–ow–and in an instant he was standing a few feet away, an arrow notched in his bowstring.

The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, their expression of shock perfectly matched. Finally, the normally quiet mole spoke, his voice loud. "You're an ape?"

"W-what? No!" The girl had expected some form of that question, but being threatened at bowpoint wasn't what she had in mind! Even Tarrok, who had first seen her face by firelight, had his doubts...

The scout shook his head in disgust, his pupils dilated in terror and disbelief. "I can't believe this..." he muttered to himself. "All this time, this cheetah cub I was speaking to, who I even helped escaped confinement... Nothing more than an ape sleeper agent!"

The girl realized the dire mess she was in and took a steadying breath. She had to get control of this situation. "Addison," she began carefully. "I'm not an ape. Please... Don't hurt me. I'm your friend." Her heart was pounding, but her voice came out steady and calm.

He stared at her with wide eyes, then looked back. "Tarrok was right," he muttered. Steadying himself, the mole drew back the arrow to deliver the coup de grâce.

"Wait!" Her cry startled both of them, and he for a moment let the string go slack. Looking over, she saw the book Addison had dropped and lunged for it, holding it up beside her face. "Look at me! Do I look like this?"

The picture, a sketching of a hulking, hunchbacked ape, was nothing like her. She was slender where he was lean and starving, muscular but scrawny where he was bulky and wide. His face was long and his body was covered with fur, but her skin was bald.

"I lied," she said quickly. "But just let me explain. I can tell you everything, if you just let me up."

Addison lowered his bow, his eyes still boring holes into her. But finally, he straightened, though he didn't put the weapon down. Slowly, the girl stood, backed up, and perched herself on the battlements. They looked at each other for awhile, the child still shaking, until Addison said sharply, "Talk."

She took a slow breath, steadying her shaking hands. "I'm leaving Warfang," she began. "So I had to tell the truth. Though, maybe I wouldn't have if I'd known I'd get this reaction." She managed a slight, nervous laugh, but Addison was unsmiling.

Clearing her throat, she continued quickly, "That story I told you, back in the woods, that was a lie." His gaze hardened. "But I didn't have a choice. I wasn't born at the Well of Souls, and I'm not an ape. I came from another world, a place called Earth. I'm something called a human."

Now his gaze had shifted to disbelief, though he was still silent. "My dad killed me," she said softly. Nothing like being reminded you had died. "When I woke up, I was here. I know that sounds insane, but... That's all I can say.

"I'm sorry our friendship started on a lie," she said sincerely. "But you have to understand. It was that, or execution. I had to hide. But... I wanted to start a new life, to have friends too.

"But in a week I'll have to leave." The girl closed her eyes as her monologue wound down. "So, if you want to forget I ever existed, that's fine. If you hate me–" she realized her voice was catching, "–that's fine. I just wanted you to know the truth before I'm gone."

Addison was still looking at her with distrust, though his gaze had softened a bit. The girl looked down. "I'm sorry."

The scout was grimacing, split between his calm personality and his paranoia, but finally, he sheathed his weapon. "I am sorry, miss," he said firmly. "I should have trusted you, but instead, I denounced you as an ape and attacked you without a second thought."

"It's okay." She looked at him with a small smile, which he warily returned. "Friends?"

"Friends, miss." He held out a paw, which she used to help herself down. The girl sighed with relief. That had certainly been a scare... But at least she and their friendship came out unscathed.

"So... you are leaving?" Addison asked awkwardly. Realizing that he was still brandishing the weapon, he quickly fumbled and set it down.

She nodded. "They found a way to get me back to Earth. So..." She leaned onto the gap in the battlements she'd been sitting on, gazing out at the forest below. "So, I have to go." She looked back at him. "I'll keep visiting until I have to leave... If you'll have me, at least."

"Of course." He smiled, regret still in his eyes. "I acted out of turn, but I'll be happy for you to visit again–if you can forgive me. Plus," the mole grinned, "It will be nice to be able to see your expression for once."

She laughed, finally losing her tension. Well, she'd had quite the fright there for a minute, but...

The truth was finally out there, and she was glad. She didn't want to leave behind lies. They had tethered her to the ground, a weight straining her friendship, but now she finally felt light.

~~...~~

Usually, when the girl came home, she'd go through the front door, say hello to Terrador, and head to bed immediately. Tonight, though, she needed time to think. The child pushed back her hood as she wrapped around to the backyard, preparing to ruminate silently on her own.

Instead, she was rather taken off-guard to find Ignitus there, sitting in the shade of the bare willow tree, next to the bench. He was deep in his own thoughts and didn't notice her until she spoke from across the yard.

"You're up late," she commented, shoving her hands in her pocket. The Guardian looked at her, head tilted, but didn't respond. Sighing, the girl tramped over, plopping down on the far side of the stone bench.

The pair stared quietly up at the cold, star-studded sky, until Ignitus glanced over at her again. Her face was cloudy with doubt. "Still thinking about the journey?"

Her smile was mute. "You know me so well." The girl looked down at the ground, the dirt and dead grass interspersed with thin snow. "But to be honest, it's not about if I'm ready to leave, or if I want to, at least not anymore. It's..."

Her gaze turned back to the inky black sky. It was silent but for the crickets until she spoke up a few moments later. "Do you think people deserve a second chance?"

Ignitus looked at her but said nothing. He sensed that this wasn't one of her silly philosophical questions. She didn't need an answer.

The girl was wordless for a minute, eyes flicking back and forth over the stars, and her voice was quiet when she spoke. "I died that day. I know I've said I might have just been in a coma, but that isn't true. I know I was dead. There was nothing left of me."

The girl's expression turned hazy. "Maybe this was supposed to be my second chance at life. And I'm just throwing that away. But, even if there's a way to return..."

She closed her eyes. "Maybe there isn't a home to go back to."

Going back to the human world could be a death sentence. She'd be returning to nothing more than the endless void of death.

But she had to accept that. Because it was that, or staying in this alien world forever, always wondering what could have been, regretting the one person she'd left behind. And that was something she just couldn't live with.

~~...~~

The next morning was a picturesque day, half-cloudy with glittering sunlight raining down on the world. It had snowed last night, but just a little, so the ugly patches were gone. The girl spent quite a while staring dreamily out her window.

After breakfast, she immediately entered the library to find that familiar scene: Volteer sitting at the far table scattered with books, deep in a 1000-page text, a steaming mug of tea set on a stack of volumes.

And it hit her then. She'd gotten used to this small thing, made it routine, expected it. And soon, it'd be gone.

But she put on a cheerful face. "Whatcha reading?"

"Ah, a riveting science book!" the yellow dragon exclaimed. "Professor Dravis' Volumes on the 12 Laws of Gravitational Attraction and Their Effects on Oecumenical Physics..."

Seeing the look on the girl's face, Volteer laughed. "Well, the name isn't important."

The girl giggled and flopped into a chair, leaning her head on her arms. She traced the stamped-in title of a maroon book for a moment, her smile fading. "I'll miss this." The words came out before she could stop them.

Volteer watched her a moment, tilting his head. "You know, you don't have to go. No one will judge you harshly if you change your mind."

She looked at him solemnly across the table, and the Guardian nodded, understanding. "Well..." He offered a small smile. "I hope, wherever you go, you find your peace."

The child hesitated a moment, then finally, returned with her own smile.

Not every conversation had to have a deeper meaning or a hidden subtext or an opening to some revelation. They just held meaning for their simple sincerity.

The initial waking up in this world, her battle with the ape, the adventure on the train, the ravine and the cave beneath it, where she discovered something without even knowing it... Those, those were the things she'd remember.

But it was these little things she'd miss.

~~...~~

It was only a day or two into the final week that Tyren and the girl went back to that place.

It wasn't her idea, not at all. She would have been happy to never see it again. One morning, the little boy approached her and asked to see it, one last time. And she had no choice but to comply. So she bundled herself up, wrapped the tiny child in a thick scarf, and together they stepped into those woods.

Today, a gentle snow was blanketing the never-ending forest, though the wind had picked up and the girl had to shield her face with her arm. Small creatures, yawning at being disturbed from their hibernation, stared at the odd pair.

Around midday, they reached the foot of the hill and stared at the scrawny trees far above. Neither of them seemed able to move, frozen to the ground as they stared up the cliff. "Tyren..." the girl began, her brow furrowed, "Are you sure?"

Letting out a breath that puffed up like a cloud, the hatchling nodded. "I'm sure." And he began the long ascent, his friend close behind to catch him in case he slipped.

It was a tiring climb, more exhausting than usual with the thick snow, but Tyren didn't seem to notice. As the girl's head came over the top of the hill, her stomach dropped seeing that place. The waterfall. For a moment they were there, Auren peering over the edge, Tyren hurtling down off it.

Turning and seeing her trepidation, the child held out a paw. He stood at the top of the hill, the muted sun glowing behind him. Swallowing, the girl took his paw, and they came up there together.

Though it was scary being there again, there was a magical wonder about the place that couldn't be ignored. It was the forest of a thousand trees. Really, it was only a small hill. The river side gently sloped down, but the other sides were steep and came to an abrupt halt. And yet, somehow, it seemed endless. Its own pocket of reality in the woods.

They turned away from the waterfall, sitting with it behind them. The girl plopped down and propped herself up on a spindly tree, gazing up at the hazy sky visible through the criss-crossing branches. Tyren sat beside her, snuggled into her side.

And they waited. Two bright souls curled up in the eye of the blizzard, waiting for the storm to pass.

It was the boy who spoke first, his voice hesitant. "So..." He looked up at her, but her gaze was locked on the distant forest. "You'll be gone forever?"

She blinked and shifted, but her expression didn't change. "...Yes."

He tilted his head. "You won't ever, ever come back?"

"No."

"Not this summer? Not next year? Not when Mally-fore is beated?"

On her face was something like a smile. "No, Tyren."

"Not even when I'm a thousand years old?"

"No." The girl bit her tongue.

"A million billion years old?"

Finally she giggled, and they both broke into laughter. Suddenly, the girl couldn't stop laughing, and every time Tyren giggled, it just threw her into another fit. Finally, they were both rolling in the snow, snickering and throwing sloppily made snowballs at each other.

Once they'd calmed down, they were laying next to each other, grinning and staring at the sky. Tyren's smile faded, and he tilted his head. "Like... Auren?"

The girl glanced over at the child in alarm, but he wasn't looking. "Well... No. Not like Auren. Auren is..." She rolled onto her stomach and picked up a bit of snow, holding it out. "Auren is everywhere. He's in the snow, and the wind, and the sky. That's what they taught you, right? In a way, dragons live forever.

"But I'll be gone gone. I'll be alive, but somewhere else. Even when I die, I won't be here."

She hesitated, seeing Tyren's crestfallen expression. "But..." She pulled him over, laying an arm over the boy. "As long as you remember me, and I remember you... We'll be together, okay? There's nowhere in the world we could go that we won't be."

Tyren was staring glumly at the ground, but he looked up, a bit of hope in his pale eyes. "You mean it?"

The girl nodded. "So, promise you'll remember me, and I will too."

He considered for a moment, and finally nodded, leaning his head on her shoulder. "I promise."

And the two lay there in the woods, as she and his brother had done not so long ago, watching the calm, clear sky as the wind died down and the storm finally passed.

~~...~~

The week was winding down, closer to the end than the beginning. She tried not to think too much about it, and just enjoy her time in Warfang while she still had it.

That day, day four or so, had been lazy. A get out of bed late, stay in the bath too long, slump on the couch 'til noon kind of day. She was sitting in the living room reading when Terrador walked in. "I am going now," he informed the others, making for the door.

The girl looked up from her novel. "Where are you going?"

"Standard inspection of the northern ramparts," the Guardian replied concisely.

"I don't know why you bother." Cyril was sitting at a table, his own snout buried in a large volume, though his filled with all manners of long and pompous words. "The mole engineers have always kept the cannons in good repair. Not that they've used them in nearly a hundred years."

"It keeps morale high," Terrador said simply, raising an eyebrow, though he was used to Cyril being contrary for the sake of it.

The girl had been listening to this exchange, and she tilted her head as a thought hit her. In a few days, she'd be gone, leaving unsaid words behind her. Then... It was now or never.

"Can I come?" The words took the green Guardian off-guard–she usually went out on her own, rather than tagging along with them. Seeing his confused expression, she said quickly, "I'll stay out of the way, I'm just curious."

At his minute nod, the girl hopped up and pulled up her hood, leaving her discarded book open on the table. And they were off. Two old friends, into the heart of the city, like their small journeys into the forest months ago.

The girl commented on this as they weaved their way through dark, looming alleyways to avoid the attention a Guardian in the city would attract. "Just like old times, huh?" she quipped.

Terrador, quiet as he was, didn't say anything. But he inclined his head in a slight nod.

Through the city they walked, the murmur of the crowd rising as they left the quiet upper-class residential district. It was a sunny day, but a notable chill left their breaths fogged as they tramped through a thin layer of snow. Yawning moles had only just set to work clearing the streets from last night's snowfall.

As they set up the stairs leading to the ramparts, a cold gust of wind reached them, gently buffering the girl's hood. The roar of the city died down, replaced with the distant sounds of wildlife. As they reached the last step, the girl saw a row of silver and blue armour-clad moles standing in formation before the cannons and mortars.

As soon as they saw the green dragon, the moles, who had been slumping, snapped to immediate attention. A soldier clad in black gold-tinted armour stepped forward, waving a spear taller than he was about.

"Welcome, most respected earth Guardian!" he cried, his shout nearly blowing the girl off the wall. "We are most glad to have you here today to inspect the ramparts, you and your, um..." The commander stared at her as she shifted uncomfortably.

"Future soldier-in-training," Terrador interjected calmly. "She wished to accompany me as a learning experience."

The mole only stared a moment. "Of course, of course!" He grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. "I'll be glad to see you join our squad in a few years! Now, onto the inspection..."

She grinned under her hood as she followed the Guardian down the lines of soldiers. It was a quick, cursory checkup. Their armour was perfectly shiny, the cannons practically glowing with only the occasional scratch from previous battles. Nothing was out of line, and even Terrador looked bored.

Eventually they neared the end of the northern wall–it was quite the walk they'd taken; they stood before the guard's district, with the industrial area and the train tracks visible beyond. The moles that had once stood in lines now were at ease, returning to their former posts.

The girl realized that, if she was going to say what she came here to say, it had to be now. So, she began, "Um... I lied."

Terrador, who'd been staring off into the forest carefully, blinked and looked at her as she continued, "To be honest, I don't really care about a ramparts inspection at all."
To her surprise, this frank statement elicited a slight smile from the Guardian. "I figured as much."

The girl's brief smile faded. "It's not really a big deal–at least, maybe it isn't to you. I just wanted to say something before I'm gone." She turned away, watching the grass far below blowing in the wind. "Thank you. Back at the Temple, you let me tag along with you. I know it seems small, but..."

She looked up to the cloudy sky. "It made a big difference. If it wasn't for that little bit of courage, maybe even now I'd still be a scared, defenseless kid." The girl smiled and glanced back. "I know you didn't trust me back then, so it means a lot. I just hope, when I go home, I'll be able to keep that strength." She turned her gaze back to the landscape. "That's all."

Terrador was a listener, one who rarely spoke unless he had something to say–and even then–so she wasn't expecting it when he spoke up.

"I'm sorry to see you go," he began, "But I know, wherever you go, you'll hold courage in your heart."

It was simple. But it was enough. As the girl walked home through the city streets, she felt a little lighter. Another checkbox ticked, another day gone. She was coming to the end of the list, and yet, she didn't feel fear or apprehension anymore. Only a calm acceptance.

~~...~~

A day or so later, as the girl was leaving the library with a book tucked under her arm, she bumped into Cyril. He was holding something, a piece of paper that she immediately recognized for all the familiar creases and wear. Her hand shot to her pocket, but she found it empty.

"I believe you dropped this," the ice dragon commented, holding it out. "I found it on the floor just now."

The girl stopped, wide-eyed. What if she had lost it outside, in the middle of Warfang? "Thank you," she breathed, taking it and clutching it fondly. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost this." Better keep it in her room from now on...

The Guardian watched her for a moment, head tilted, as she put it away. He looked peculiar, like he was trying to find the words, but couldn't or wouldn't say them. Finally, he said hesitantly, "Will you... remember us as well?"

She looked up in surprise, but only for a moment. "Of course," she said quickly. "I don't have a picture or anything, but... I won't forget. I promise."

His bright blue eyes examined her for a moment, then he nodded, turning away. The girl looked after him for a moment as he headed for the sliding glass door to the garden, and before she realized it, she was asking the question. "What did you mean that night?"

The dragon glanced back, eyebrows raised. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"Er... You were talking to Volteer about me. In the kitchen, after the meeting." At Cyril's incredulous look, she said quickly, "I was hiding in the pantry."

"Why in the world..." Clutching his forehead, the ice dragon shook his head.

The girl stepped forward, nearly stumbling over her words. "You said that you thought I had lied about the future so I could stay here, but you let me get away with it, because...?"

Beside them, a fire crackled in the big stone hearth as Cyril stared and sighed. "I only thought of that later on, when you began your training. I could see how attached you were to the Temple and the other Guardians. And some of those stories...

"Well," he sighed. "I see now just how plausible the siege of Warfang really is."

The girl stared. "But... Why didn't you say anything?" she pressed.

"Because... Oh, bloody hell," the dragon grumbled, pacing about in annoyance. "Because, in part, I suppose I wanted to protect you. If the others learned that you had been lying... Well, we all know Terrador takes this whole operation very seriously. And if you'd mislead Ignitus about Spyro's location, I couldn't have spared you from his wrath."

"But Ignitus is..." She stopped. Nice, calm, not easily upset...?

Cyril understood what she was trying to say, and he shook his head. "If you lied about Spyro... I think being cast out of the Temple would have been the least of your problems."

The Guardian ignored the girl's frightened look. "In short," he continued, "Well... I could see that, if you'd lied, it had been out of desperation. You certainly would have gotten yourself killed if it wasn't for us."

The girl could only stare, taken off-guard by this confession. Who'd known Cyril had cared at all whether she lived or died, especially so early on. Seeing her expression, he rolled his eyes. "So, is that enough for you? As it turns out, I am not such a bad person," he huffed.

"I didn't think you were a bad person!" the girl exclaimed. "I just... didn't think you cared. At first, I mean. But we're friends now, right?" She smiled genuinely.

The rigid dragon's expression softened, and he rolled his eyes again as he turned away. "Yeah, whatever."

As he headed to the garden, the girl collapsed on the couch, the book clutched idly in her arms as she stared into the fire. The warmth, emanating from across the room, just reached her and made her skin tingle.

As she sat there thinking, she realized, then, that she hadn't truly known just how many people cared about her in this world. How deep her roots grew, and just how many others would be uprooted when she tore them out.

It was strange. She was a girl who, before the Dragon Realms, had never really made an impact on anyone. After she died, she knew that her sister would be the only person to notice her absence. But here, in this world, there would be people who'd remember her forever, who would never really be the same without her.

This left her feeling split. There was the sweetness of knowing there were people all around you who cared about you, who would never forget you. But the bitter of understanding that you would be missed long, long after you were gone.

~~...~~

And then the last day came. One more full day in Warfang. The next morning, she'd be on her way home.

It was... a normal day. When the girl woke up, a sunny sky greeted her through the window. The city was muted, its noise distant. There was no hullabaloo downstairs, just the occasional clinking of cans as the food she and Ignitus would need on their journey was put aside.

And that was how the whole day was. Quiet.

At around noon, the girl returned to her room, Tyren in tow, to put together all of the things she wanted to take home with her into a small bag come tomorrow. The girl spread it all out on the floor before her, and she saw that there wasn't much. A change of clothes sat already packed in the bag–the rest of her silks she'd folded and put in the wicker chest. Wouldn't need them where she was going.

Besides that, she had her sword. That would be firmly on her back, of course, but she kept it laid out anyway. Then there was the first book she had mastered, Forest, which she'd stolen from the library so she wouldn't forget her letters. The "slave" necklace Tarrok had left with her. A chunk of blood red spirit gem. Just a few mementos.

Then, there were the two drawings. Her most prized possessions by far.

Tyren watched solemnly from the bed as she gathered these things together, carefully laying them out on the floor where they wouldn't be stepped on. She knew that she'd want to go over them all carefully in the morning, so there was no point in packing them now.

With her few possessions out of the way, she sat at the edge of the bed, dragged the small night-desk over to face her, and set to work on a clean piece of parchment. Tyren sat next to her, leaning on her side, though he couldn't see what she was carefully, neatly scrawling.

When she was done, several minutes later, she stared down at the paper, reading her words over. Then, when the ink had dried, she gently folded the paper into a small square.

"Tyren." Hearing her solemn voice snapped the child to attention. "I have a mission for you."

He perked up in interest as she held out the folded square to him. "I want you to take this letter and keep it safe. Never, ever lose it." Her gaze was blank, far, far out the window. "Someday, our friends Cedric, Serena, and Strider will come back to Warfang. When they're all here...

"Read the letter to them." At his questioning stare, the girl nodded. "You can read it before then. But only once I'm gone. Promise me that."

Being reminded that she was leaving, the hatchling nearly crumpled, but he nodded. "I promise." Tyren buried his head suddenly into her side, wrapping himself in the black cloth. "I'll miss you," he mumbled, just holding back his tears. "'ll miss you."

The girl looked down at him and closed her eyes, pulling the child close into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him, solidifying this moment in her mind. The pretty light room that had once belonged to her, the last sunny Warfang day she'd ever see. And the warm kindness of this child. If she forgot everything, everything, Tyren's light would be the single memory she'd hold onto.

You are my only regret.

~~...~~

The night was quiet, high up in the air. Crickets could be heard in the distance, and the girl's hood, now comfortably pushed down, shifted gently in the wind. Addison, as usual, sipped his tea quietly and thoughtfully.

She wouldn't have known that this wasn't just another night. This was the last night. When the stars faded and the sun touched the golden city, she'd be gone.

The usually chatty girl was now mute, leaning on the gap between the battlements and staring pensively out at the forest. The wilderness that, tomorrow, she'd walk into and never come back. She'd begun to accept that she had to leave, but, well. It was hard to accept that.

A part of her wanted to pretend that she could just grab her sister and come back. The bridge would be waiting, and once she returned to the Dragon Realms, it would finally close behind her. They could both be happy here. But she knew that this was nothing more than a daydream.

In her gloomy thoughts, the girl didn't notice that Addison was watching her. The somewhat shy mole had always kept to himself, but he'd enjoyed his sunny friend's visits.

He hadn't exactly faced the end yet, putting it off, pretending that there was always another night. But there wouldn't be another night, not for her. So the mole stood, he too leaning himself between a gap.

She didn't look at him, but she noticed his presence and spoke. "I'm sorry for being such a bother to you, Addison."

The scout was taken off-guard, but he recovered quickly. "You were never a bother to me, miss. You may not have made the right choices–but, well, I certainly don't blame you for lying, given my reaction."

When she remained mute, Addison continued, "I understand why you're leaving. I'd never hold that against you, miss. Sometimes, in this life, there are people you must leave behind. Please don't blame yourself for that."

What if I'm leaving the wrong people behind? The girl closed her eyes. Well, the decision was made. The wind was tugging at her fears, and sometime, she'd have to let them take it. "Thank you."

It was quiet for a minute longer as Addison eyed her. He felt like he needed to say something else, but he wasn't sure what. "So..." he began carefully. "Tomorrow, huh?"

"That's right." Her voice seemed more flat and emotionless than usual. Black eyes wandered over, examining him. "So, I guess this is goodbye. If it all works out..." She looked up at the star-peppered sky. "I'll never come back."

Hearing her trepidation, the mole thought for a moment. "I don't mean to take back everything I just said," he began with a slight smile that soon faded, "But... Is this what you really want?"

At that moment, standing far above the earth with the moons at her back, all of the girl's doubt slipped away. Every fear, every regret. Every unsaid word, every broken promise. She let go, and the wind took it, like it had taken her wisps of brown hair so long ago. Taken the past, and let her move on to the future.

She nodded slightly, feeling suddenly rather grounded and calm. "I'm ready to go home."

And for the first time, it wasn't a lie.

~~...~~

Promises. Final hugs and goodbyes, and him vowing with the earnestness she'd never forget that he'd be in the tower to send her off. This should have been what she slept on. Her last farewell before leaving.

But there was one person she hadn't said goodbye to.

The wall was slippery and snowy, and even the nightly guards had declined as winter went on. But she knew when she came to that place. Clearing a bit of snow, she saw the scuffs, the lantern oil stains. And she sat down quietly in her spot.

For a minute it was like that, peaceful. But the wind began to pick up around her–or maybe it was just her imagination. Carefully, she reached into a small bag she'd brought along and took out the little decorative wooden box.

She'd eavesdropped on conversations, read books, and figured out how dragons talked to their dead. Maybe what she was doing was some sort of sacrilege. But right now, she didn't care.

With a match, she managed to light the one thin candle jutting out of the box. She waited a moment, like something was going to happen. The book she'd read said that sometimes, the "summoner" would see a projection, hear their voice, even begin a journey to the spirit world.

But the winter night was as quiet as it had been. So she began, "Um... I'm not really sure how you're supposed to talk to dead people." Her small smile was confused, but there was no response. "Maybe I'm not allowed. Like Volteer said, I don't really have a... connection to this world."

She stared at the small candleflame. The wind picked up around her, blowing the tiny light, but it didn't go out. Maybe...

"Well." The teenager took a breath, feeling silly, but she forced herself to go on. "If you're listening, I just needed to say goodbye. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave Tyren this soon..." The gusts quelled, as if holding their breath, listening. "...But, I think he's going to be alright."

She tilted her head and strained her ears, but she couldn't hear over the howling wind. "I wanted to stay," she said sincerely. "But after you..." The girl silenced herself and looked down, shaking her head. "It's too late now, and I've already accepted it. If Tyren had asked me to stay, I would have. I would have forever if he'd asked, and I almost want him to. But he didn't, so..."

The girl looked up at the cloudless night sky. "When I'm gone, please forgive me for that." She sat for a moment longer, thinking, then finally stood. "Anyway, that's all... If you're even listening." Glancing up again, she turned on the path to home. "Goodbye, Auren."

She managed to take a few steps, deep in her broodings and still feeling like she was talking to a wall, before something cold melted on her nose and brought her out of her thoughts. Blinking, the child looked up and saw it was snowing. Tiny, pinprick drops floated around her, falling on her skin like feathers. Her heart surged with the sudden realization.

He was living in winter.

Understanding now, a small smile crossed her face as she looked back at the little altar-box, candle still burning. "Look after Tyren for me, will you?"

As she walked home with that gentle snowfall all around her, the wind guiding her, the girl realized something. She thought that the beautiful thing she had created was gone forever. Gone with Auren, gone with her. Nothing but a memory.

But it was those memories that would keep its beauty alive. In Serena, in Cedric, in Strider, in Tyren. They would remember, and tell the story. The gang may lose two members, but it wasn't gone. They'd keep going, remembering Auren's laugh, remembering the girl's courage.

It would live on. And as long as they remembered him, Auren would never die.

~~...~~

When the girl stepped slowly down that pretty sunlit hall for the last time, she stopped in the doorway of what had once been her room and stared. "Just let me grab everything," she'd said with mock cheerfulness. "Then we can go."

Now, alone in the white, bright bedroom, she sat slowly down on the perfectly made bed and looked around. Reached up and touched the silky lacy cloth she'd nailed above the bed, fingering it idly.

It didn't exactly look like hers anymore, she realized. The sweetgrass had long withered and died under winter's cold touch, so the sill was bare. The sagging dummy was still there, and the chair, and the overhanging cloth. But that was all. When she left in a few minutes, it wouldn't be her room. It would be the room she had once lived in. And it already looked like a memory.

When she stood, the girl went to smooth over the covers again, but she stopped. The lump in the sheets looked... right. More comfortable, more used. So she left it.

Next she touched her fingers to the cold window, staring out at the garden. She could see herself down there, and Ignitus too, enjoying that pretty little area in the last throes of autumn. And, if she craned her head just right, she could see her place on the wall. The silhouettes of her friends, laughing.

There was something she needed to do. Taking out her sword, the girl grabbed her hair into a bundle and carefully sliced. There wasn't as much as there had been the first time, but she'd let it grow quite a bit. She tossed her head to shake out the wispy strands, feeling lighter, and opened the window.

The girl held her arm out the window for a moment, hesitating. Pieces of her would be carried away by the wind, scattering over the forest. Birds would find it and weave it into nests of grass and twigs.

That made her smile. Long after she had left this world, a bit of her would still remain. So she opened her hand and let the wind take it.

Her mind reminded her sternly that everyone was waiting on her, but she ignored it. Just one more quick thing.

Finally, she went over the objects one last time. If she left something behind, she couldn't go back for it, so the child counted carefully. The sword she put on her back, the sketches in her pocket. She slipped in the book, the collar, and the spirit gem on top of the change of clothes and closed the cloth bag.

The girl had no clue if these items would come with her, but they were important to her, so it was worth a shot. That's why she kept the sketches as close to her body as possible. Just in case.

And then she stood. Slung the bag over her shoulder, looked around one last time. But that was all. There was nothing else to do.

Well... the girl thought, standing in the doorway, I guess that's it, then.

She trudged down the stairs slowly, reluctance begging her to go back into that room, crawl under the covers, and go back to sleep. But it was time. And she saw, rounding the last bend and stepping into the living room, that they knew it too. For some reason, she could only stand at the foot of the steps and stare.

Tyren was the first to break. Sitting in that stuffy living room, seeing his dear friend geared up and ready to go, it hit him. The boy ran forward, the girl crouched down, and suddenly he was crying in her arms.

She held him tight as if never to let go, and the Guardians looked away until the child's sobs slowed. But the girl didn't cry. She'd cried too much already. She just held Tyren until finally he pulled away, sniffling.

When the boy pulled back and the girl tenderly wiped his scaly wet cheeks, she thought of something that gave her pause. Back on Earth, she wouldn't have the gang anymore, just a picture to remember them by. She could never give that one up. But she had two pictures.

After she was gone, Tyren would have the remnants of the gang. But her and Auren would both be gone forever. She could give him something, to help him remember.

Slowly, she pulled the picture out of her pocket, unfolded it slightly to make sure it was the right one, then clutched it in her hand. She didn't want to give up Auren, give up the closeness of their friendship that should have been so obvious to her.

But Tyren needed it more. So gently, she opened his paw, slipped the square into it, and closed it again. He looked at her a moment and clutched the paper tightly.

Then she stood. She and the Guardians stared at each other for a while, and nobody really knew what to do. They had to say goodbye now, but how to go about that? And, really, how could they say goodbye to the girl who had brightened their lives in her own small way?

But she had to do one last thing. Tears were threatening to break now, so the girl only hesitated for a moment. For a moment, she seemed like she was glowing from within as she opened her arms. "Bring it in, guys!"

Terrador hesitated; Cyril rolled his eyes. But they allowed her to pull them into a hug–the Guardians, of all people–and she looked for all the world like, in that moment, she had never been happier.

All stories must come to an end. This one isn't quite over yet, but that day, the story of the girl, the Guardians, and Tyren came to a quiet close. And that's all there is to say about it.

As she walked out the door with Ignitus, stepping into the pretty white and gold streets, she had convinced herself that she wouldn't look back. She couldn't. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, if she turned even for a moment, she'd fall back into the underworld again. But for all her promises, that resolve slipped. As they neared the bend that would put the pretty house behind them, she turned around.

Tyren was piled up against the window, his paws and muzzle pressed into it, so that she could see his breath fogging the glass even from here. He watched with solemn, pale eyes as his friend walked away.

The girl paused, then raised her hand in a final goodbye. Though small, she saw the little dragon smile. They looked at each other a moment longer, but finally, Tyren jumped down from his perch and his face disappeared from the frosty window.

Ignitus had walked ahead of her, but he stopped now, noticing her wistful look as she gave her home a final once-over. In the morning light, it was pretty and quiet. The timber would just be beginning to warm up–she loved to press her hand into it and soak in the warmth like a cat, though Cyril thought she was insane–and the glass windows were sparkling in the sunlight.

On most days, she'd be waking up right about now. She'd meander downstairs to have a cheerful breakfast with everyone. Hole herself up in the library to read for a few hours, relax with some tea. What someone who lived in that home would do. But now, she was out here.

Gently, Ignitus said, "It isn't too late to turn back."

The girl started and looked at him a moment, as if she was considering it. She'd love to run back in there. To grab Tyren and swing him into the air, make him laugh, promise that she'd never try to leave again.

But it was too late. And she'd made her decision long ago.

"I'm only looking ahead now." And now it was Ignitus who watched as she tramped resolutely on in front of him, rounding the corner and leaving that home behind.

Chapter Text

The girl got her last walk.

Ignitus was in no hurry–he knew they'd have to make a little detour later on that would take up the rest of the day anyhow–and she certainly didn't want to be on her way out too fast. So together, they walked slowly.

Through the little dark alleys the child had learned so well, through wide, pretty boulevards, through residential areas where children ran laughing along the sidewalk. Warfang, so animated and beautiful and alive. She would never find anywhere else like it.

It was a big city, and walking from the southern to the northern district took awhile. But it wasn't nearly long enough. By the time they were standing before those gates, it was full morning. Sunlight was sparkling down from the heavens, casting a last glow on the city as she looked back and took it all in.

Except for the piles of snow that lined the sidewalks, it looked like the first day she had come here. Bright, sunny, and sparkling. Endless people crossing the great boulevard the gates opened into. And the sound of laughter, chatting, bickering, that had become the constant hum of background noise she was used to.

But then the great wood and stone door opened, beckoning her into the unknown of beyond. And she was forced to turn away, stepping forward through those gates.

The mole and cheetah guards stared down at them in curiosity from their perches, but said nothing. It certainly was interesting, seeing one Guardian and his charge leaving the city, with travelling supplies too. Whispered rumours would abound. But by the time Ignitus returned alone, it wouldn't matter.

So they stepped out into the grasslands and watched as the gates shut behind them.

Already the sound of the city seemed so far away. But just as she was about to follow Ignitus, who was already trodding forward, the girl remembered and turned.

Addison was there, like he had promised, sitting between the battlements of the watchtower and looking at her. She wanted to run to the tower, scale it, give the mole a hug. But she was anchored to the ground. So all she could do was lift her arm in a final farewell.

Her wave was returned, and the scout smiled down at her. Faintly, she managed a small smile of her own. But Ignitus was waiting now, glancing back to see what she was doing, and it was time to go. So she could only give one long, last wistful look towards her first and last friend.

And Addison watched her as she crossed those great waving plains, walked into the shadows of the treeline, and disappeared.

"...And, because of that, we're going to need to–are you listening?"

The girl looked up in surprise, only to find two exasperated red eyes on her. She'd already put her hood down, so the breeze that managed to push its way through the trees was gently blowing her hair.

Unable to find an excuse, she finally said, "It's so quiet." They'd passed far enough into the forest that the sound of people was entirely gone. Only a few chirping birds and the rustle of leaves made any sound.

Ignitus blinked. "Yes, well... Pay attention. It's important." They resumed their trek through the path still made of cobbled, worn stone. "We'll be crossing a large stretch of ocean, as this is the fastest route. There's a small harbour a bit off the Warfang dam, about two hours' walk from here, where we can find a boat for you. The journey should only take five days."

"Erm..." The girl stared, then unrolled the map she was holding. "I don't know if I can row myself to the White Isle in five days." Her arms ached just thinking about that.

The answer was prompt. "I have something else in mind."

She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but she shrugged. And onward they went.

The two, who were normally always exchanging pleasant banter, now didn't talk very much. For the next hour or so, they walked quietly on through the endless forest. Though the girl noticed, after awhile, that the trees were thinning. Stumps littered the ground, becoming more and more numerous.

Until suddenly, they broke into a clearing in a little valley between cliffs, and she realized that the sound she'd been hearing was water. A wide, rushing river burbled on before her, and as she turned, she found her gaze only growing higher, up and up a structure taller than a mountain.

For a moment, she thought she was in Warfang again, for all the great golden stone. But, taking a few steps back out of its great shadow, she realized that what she was staring up at was the Warfang Dam.

"We're almost there," was all Ignitus said, not betraying nearly the same wonder she was. He stared up at the great sculpture, carved into the likeness of a dragon, but he had seen it many times before. "Put your hood up again."

The girl complied, though her eyes lingered a little longer. Then she turned, and the pair continued downstream, towards the ocean.

The trees returned in force now, even along the riverbank flanked by tall cliffs. But it wasn't quite an hour later when, through the forest, they spotted it. And the girl didn't realize until that moment how much she had missed it. The ocean, in all its sparkling glory, lay spread before her like a beautiful blanket. She wanted to wrap herself in it, succumb to the depths, and she took a few unfeeling steps forward as if in a daze.

But then she noticed the hut. Well... that's exactly what it was, and nothing more. A wood shanty, the pillars holding it up encrusted with barnacles. But while that house was not pretty, what caught her eye was the gleaming dark wood dock, with all manner of boats attached to it.

Canoes lay buried in the sand, small sailboats rocked on the water, and ships that looked like they needed to be manned by five or more people sat humbly at the end of the pier, despite their shiny wood and metal fixings.

But as she began to traipse forward, Ignitus shook his head. "Wait here." Seeing her despondent expression, the dragon almost smiled. "Just for a minute."

A minute felt like two hours. She curled up under a slender tree and gazed wistfully out at the ocean for what seemed like forever. When she could hardly bear it any longer, she turned herself around and instead stared back into the forest.

Finally, the wait ended as the girl heard Ignitus call. She pulled her hood down lower and stepped out onto the soft sand of the beach, but to her surprise, he was shaking his head.

"These are friends," the Guardian said simply. "No need to hide."

The girl stared, but tentatively lowered her hood. The two standing before her couldn't be more different: a short, heavy-set mole, and a cat with grey fur who somehow looked lankier than Hunter. Meanwhile, while the mole watched her coolly, the cheetah was already coming in for a handshake with a wide smile on his face.

"Well, it is sure nice to meet you," he was saying, the smile never leaving his face, nor did he stop vigorously shaking her hand. "Any friend of Ignitus' is a friend of ours, ain't they, Saewin?"

The mole, apparently Saewin, tilted his head and nodded. She wondered what Ignitus had told them; they didn't at all seem fazed by her appearance. But before the girl could ask, she was being whisked away towards the water's edge.

"If you need something small, something that can be sailed by one person, then we've got just the model!" the cheetah was saying. The girl stared. The boat they presented was smaller than Ignitus–he'd probably turn the thing to toothpicks if he tried to get in–with two small, red sails gleefully trying to escape into the wind.

Saewin had already hopped into the boat. It looked like a cramped fit just for him. "What do you know about sailing, kid?" His voice was steady and clear, unlike his friend's thick drawl.

"Um... You pull the rope and the sail comes up?" she asked faintly. She lived next to the ocean, so she'd often watched the sailors as they headed off the docks and into the sea. But it's not like she had any idea what they were doing.

"Is that all?" the mole asked incredulously. Muttering something to himself, he shook his head. "Well, get in, then. Let's give it a try."

Slowly, the girl lowered the bag on her shoulder to the ground, stuffing the sketch into it. Knowing her, she'd tip the thing just by stepping in. For that matter, she left her sword in the cold white sand as well.

The canoe had been hard to control with her weight, but this tiny vessel seemed to respond even to the shaking of her hands as she stepped in cautiously. She looked about, unsure where to start. There were two ropes, a big stick shoved to the side, and a few other controls she didn't know what to do with. Less complications than a modern day ship, but even so, she'd never even stood in a real boat before.

"Well." Saewin tilted his head. "Come on. Get to it."

Grabbing a rope that looked like it connected to the sails–there were only two, thank the ancestors–she gave it a yank. "Wrong!" The cry nearly sent her flying into the water, and the sailboat rocked noticeably as the child ducked. "You're raising the sails away from the wind." He pointed a long, clawed finger up at the red ribbons tied to the top of the mast, bouncing in the breeze.

"Is that... bad?" she asked with wide eyes. That meant the wind was in the sails, right? Wasn't that good?

Saewin smirked. "Give it a try, then."

She went back to her hauling, but though she put all her strength into it, the sails barely moved. Finally, with a heave, she managed to raise them. She should have been paying attention to the sailor having sat down and gripped the side tightly, because next thing she knew, she was on the floor from the jolt of wind tossing the tiny boat forward.

Groaning, the girl clutched her head. "And that's why you raise it into the wind," was all Saewin said, grinning down at her.

She gave a thumbs up from the floor. "Got it."

The next thirty minutes were spent showing her how to turn the boat, hoist the sails, and tie a respectable knot so the ropes would stay. Ignitus and the other cheetah watched from the shore as she struggled along. Just when she thought she was learning the literal ropes, the lesson turned to steering.

"A'ight," Saewin said lazily, "So when you wanna turn, just give this stick a nice yank the opposite of the direction you want to go. It's not so hard." The sails weren't pulled quite all the way up, so they were only moving slightly. "Go on, give the tiller a good pull."

His smirk was making her feel uneasy, but she did what he said. As she turned, she saw something flying at her and tried to duck. Next thing she knew, the girl was floating dazed in the ocean, whacked right off by that flying pole!

She came up coughing and spitting out salt water, and when she managed to rub her stinging eyes, the only thing she could see was that damn smile. "By the way," Saewin said coyly, "You should probably duck."

The girl managed to tip the boat not once but twice, sending her and her mentor flying into the sea. But within the hour, she pretty well had the hang of it. She could tie a half-decent knot–though it looked a little lumpy compared to the sailor's expert weaving–she knew how to raise, lower, and take care of the sails, and she could turn around pretty well.

It'd just be a matter of following Ignitus, Saewin reassured, so there was no need to put any wayfinding skills to the test. "Just a straight line to... wherever you're going," the mole shrugged.

They were just sailing around now while she got used to everything, and the girl figured that she was pretty well done. She was grinning like a fool, leaning off the rope over the pretty blue water and letting the sailor steer, when she realized they were quite a ways away from the shore. Ignitus was just a red blob in the distance. "Where are we going?" she called down with a laugh.

Saewin pointed, and before her, she saw a cluster of large, spiky rocks forming a sort of enclosure. Water swirled around the edges, and the current visibly pulled through the weathered stones. "I think you're ready to face the Gauntlet, kiddo."

Eyes widening, the girl hopped down and landed in the boat with a thump. "The what?"

The mole sailor only leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. "Good luck!" They were starting to be pulled in by the current now, but she wasn't sure what to do. So she opted for screaming. "What if I crash this thing?!"

Saewin only shrugged nonchalantly. "You break it, you buy it."

As the boat neared the rocks, she could feel the tides pulling them towards it rather too quickly. The girl stood stricken in the middle of the boat, but she realized that if she did nothing, they'd crash into a million splinters. So she jumped into action and pulled the sails to full, which actually startled the worldly sailor, and jumped to the tiller to steer.

The boat flew through the two tall rocks that marked the beginning of the test. The first rock was approaching quickly–too quickly! She yanked the stick, pulling the boat right sharply. It slowed from the sudden turn, but only for a moment as the wind carried the sails again.

"Most people put the sails down and just drift through," the mole commented, eyebrows up. "Interesting strategy."

"I'm allowed to do that?!" There was no time to talk anymore, for a spiky rock almost seemed to rise before them, and she had to make another sharp turn.

It was only a short trial, a random, small outcropping of rocks. Most of her problem just came from trying to dodge the boom that flailed back and forth like a pendulum, especially when she needed to slow by easing up on the sails. So when the final two stones that marked the end came in sight, she breathed a sigh of relief. But as the girl moved around a rather large but easy to dodge boulder, there was one last obstacle in her way.

Two rocks pointy like spears, with just enough space between them to sail right through. Everywhere she turned was another rock, and she'd damage the ship for sure if she tried to go around... if not wipe out entirely.

Saewin stared at the rocks, then the look in the girl's eyes, and started. "Kid... What do you think you're doing?"

She didn't reply, narrowing her eyes and carefully angling the boat. Saewin could only watch incredulously as they neared them. When they got close, the girl grabbed the sail-rope and pulled as tight as she could, and the sailboat picked up speed. She didn't realize she was screaming until, miraculously, they cut right through the rocks.

Her yell turned to fits of laughter as a wave deposited them into gentle waters. They slowed, only the wind carrying them forward. Saewin gawked at her a moment, barely able to believe it, then burst into laughter as well. "Not a scratch on it!" he noted, rubbing the sleek new wood. "I think you're ready."

They came back to the shore, and the girl hopped out of the boat, barely catching herself as the amazingly steady ground rocked under her. Saewin's friend laughed as she steadied herself. "Still getting used to your sea legs?"

She could only smile, still giddy from the thrill. But her grin faded as she stepped over to her bag and looked down at it. An expert sailor she was not, and if she flipped the boat and lost her sketch...

As if reading her thoughts, Saewin started. "Right!" He sauntered back over to the boat and stepped in, pulling out a piece of wood slotted into the floor. "If you got anything special, this hole is waterproof. Even if you flip it, everything'll be okay... Long as you don't have anything breakable in there." He winked.

The girl smiled. "Thank you." With her bag and all its treasures stored away, she hopped in and looked at Ignitus expectantly. He nodded and took to the air, hovering and waiting for her. This time, she knew how to get the sails up, turn the boat, and get on course, so he didn't have to wait long. And there they were, on their way at last.

"Farewell!" Saewin and the cheetah called, the former chipping in, "And remember, this is just a loan! I expect this boat back within a week!"

The girl looked up in alarm, but Ignitus was smiling to himself. He knew, one way or another, this boat was never making it back. But they wouldn't hear about letting him pay for it. "Of course."

Off into the ocean they went, until the mole and cheetah were merely specks on the horizon. When the girl looked back, she realized that the golden city was no longer in sight behind her, as it had always been. Now, it was only the ocean ahead. And she turned away to the endless expanse of sea.

~~...~~

Training had taken quite a bit longer than expected, so when they set sail, the sun was already meandering down. Ignitus swooped down to tell her which island they would be making camp on that night, so she had an eye on the map while the hours wore on.

As evening approached, she saw it in the distance. A long, snake-like island in a set of archipelagos, one of many south of the mainland. When they finally arrived, it was already getting dark–and she remembered that terrifying night on the sea months ago, so she was in a hurry to set down for the night. Down the sails went, and she coasted the last way towards the island, sticking the landing. Ignitus helped her drag it onto the sand.

They made camp, setting up the fire and getting out the food they'd brought. The fresh fruit they ate cold before it could go bad, along with a bit of jerky. But as the girl sat munching on her rations, she felt... uneasy.

Sitting curled up next to the flames, that was when it really hit her. She was miles away from home. Tonight she'd be sleeping in a blanket on the ground, not in her soft bed. Tomorrow, it was back to the ocean. And the next day. And the next day. And then...

Right now, she was just wondering what was going on back in Warfang. Were Tyren and the Guardians eating dinner too, now too quiet with two of them missing? Maybe Tyren was getting ready for bed. But tonight, he'd be sleeping alone, without her stories to help him drift off into dreams. She wondered if he'd crawl into her bed and pretend she was still there.

Blinking, she snapped out of her thoughts. Across the crackling fire, Ignitus was almost as deep in his musings as she was. Tilting her head, she asked curiously, "What are you thinking about?"

He looked up. "Well," he began cautiously, "I was just wondering what we're going to say to everyone."

The girl squinted. "What do you mean?"

"About what happened to you." She stared, beginning to understand, and he continued, "People have taken notice of you and Tyren. But when I return alone... When they begin to believe that the Guardians have lost another child..." The great dragon shrugged slightly. "What can I tell them?"

The child paused, considering. But as she stared into the roaring flames, the answer hit her, and she almost smiled. Her existence had always been a secret, but once she was gone, what would it matter?

"Tell them the truth." She thought for a moment, eyes dancing in the flames, then looked up. "Tell them my story."

Ignitus was watching her now. For some reason she couldn't place, he almost looked amused. "And what is your story?"

She looked at him in surprise, then laughed and gave a shrug. "You tell me."

The pieces she had left behind gave her a bit of comfort. But maybe, if the world knew the truth of everything that had happened to her, the rises and falls, her despair and her triumphs...

It would be a painful story to tell. Not just because of her past, because of Auren. Every tale has its tragedies to tell, and those were hers. But the other children were a part of her story too, and that was a truth none of the Guardians could face. But maybe if they could... If they were willing to... And if she knew that her life here wouldn't forever be a secret, a forgotten memory bottled up in the past...

She could accept that, leaving her story behind.

Chapter Text

It was beautiful when they set out the next morning; the ocean sparkled with semi-translucency on the shore as the girl's tired fingers wound sail knots. With the wind blowing her hair, she woke up pretty quickly, and was giddy to get started on the next day's adventure.

But for all its beauty, as the archipelago disappeared behind them and they entered the open ocean, the sea began to grow dark and samey. Once the wind steadied and the boat was sailing fast, there wasn't much to do but zone out as she followed Ignitus' trail.

And with her mind free to wander, that meant the tinges of regret seeped in, curling their roots around her. But, like she had said, there was nothing to do but look ahead now. Ahead to the dark expanse of sea.

They sailed straight on through the day, Ignitus even taking his lunch in the air. But the girl noticed light clouds on the distant horizon, and the Guardian looked troubled as he flew down to her–though he said nothing.

She wasn't quite ready to sail in stormy seas, though she'd welcome some light rain, but the girl felt somehow that wasn't the only thing on his mind.

Day two was long and quiet. That was all. The uneventful day left both companions feeling relieved and uneasy.

She was glad to see the small island approaching that night, for the never-ending ocean had been quite tiring on the eyes. The forest, at least, had been full of pretty trees and light dancing through the leaves and creatures skittering away, even if it had taken three times as long to travel through.

When they finally sat down by the fire that night, the girl stretching her aching bones, she noticed that Ignitus still looked a bit troubled. "What is it?" she asked.

The dragon considered a moment, then finally spoke up. "We're entering the open ocean," he said. "That means there will be less islands to stop at, and we may have to sail on past dark. But we're also heading right into pirate territory."

The girl stared wide-eyed as he continued, "If we encounter a dog fleet, you must run. I'll distract them until you can sail away. Else they'll kidnap us both, and then..." He trailed off.

"What–if you think I'm going to abandon you to a bunch of pirates–do you know what they did to Spyro?" the girl demanded, looking horrified that he'd suggested it. "If they capture you, then what?"

"Then you continue on your own. I knew the danger of accompanying you." Ignitus shook his head, looking exasperated. "You must listen to me for once. If the pirates capture you, they'll certainly deliver you to Malefor himself. And Cynder... She is the least of his cruel and twisted experiments."

The girl thought of the poor shadow dragon hatchling, injected with unnatural elements as her body stretched and contorted into that of a monster, and swallowed. "They're no match for us," she said tentatively, not knowing if it was true. "Spyro destroyed most of their fleet, so they're weaker now. We'll break out."

"Pirates have no interest in adult creatures for their games," the Guardian said flatly. "They'll kill me, and you'll be trapped until they bring you to Malefor, or you die in one of their arenas. That will be your fate. I won't allow that."

"I can't do this alone!" she snapped. "And I won't leave you to die. I can't."

Ignitus stared at her, but his powerful gaze was no match for her blazing, resolute glare. He sighed, turning away. "Do not sacrifice your one chance for my sake, young one."

She looked at him, the fire in her eyes smoldering, but he had already turned around. Giving her own sigh, she two put her back to the fire and stared at the dark waves lapping at the shore.

If she selfishly let Ignitus be put in danger... let him die, so she could have a chance... Then she didn't deserve to go home at all. That was one thing she held steadfastly onto. And, too, she hadn't forgotten her promise from long ago.

The Guardians were the fate of this world. Their deaths would be the death of this place she loved, even after she was gone. And she could not–would not–accept that. Even more than that, they were her friends.

And if it meant she had to put herself in danger, even die, to protect them, she would do it without a second thought.

Besides. She couldn't make this journey alone. The girl deflated, realizing this; it wasn't just about having someone to protect her. If along the way Ignitus was lost, she wouldn't be able to continue. This journey would be for nothing.

~~...~~

The ocean was cold. That day, the third day, the wind came at a blistering pace for hours, howling as it tore into the sails. The girl was lucky to not flip the boat, but she found herself constantly pulling herself backwards to stop the whole vessel flying forward.

In the distance, thunder boomed and seemed to rock the whole ocean. Those grey clouds they had seen looming on the horizon the day before now swarmed over them, breaking into a freezing rain. The girl's silky clothes were no match for this, and she was soon shivering and huddling under the bloody red sails.

She didn't forget Ignitus' warning, and she kept a close eye on the hazy horizon. But she never saw one of those floating ships, and the Guardian flew on without looking back.

So it was.

As the overcast day wound down to early afternoon, the frantic wind became a bit calmer, and the girl was finally able to take a breath and sit down. The torrent became light drops like ice on her pale skin, and her clothes were soaked, but at least it was no longer a downpour backed by powerful gusts.

But the ocean once beautiful and bright was now dim and faded. No birds from nearby isles dove into the water, coming out with a fat flopping fish. No shadows of great creatures passed beneath her, and no sunlight reached through the clouds to make the blue sparkle. Just the grey sea, opaque and dull and lifeless to the horizon.

And the spot of dull orange guiding her. But suddenly, Ignitus came to a stop, hovering in the air. The girl looked up, then to the horizon, tilting her head. She couldn't exactly see anything, but there was something hazy in the distance, darkening the sky.

He hadn't told her to turn back yet, so she tightened the sails to go full speed ahead. The wind was more than happy to carry her, and soon she was speeding along, Ignitus tentatively gliding ahead of her.

Closer and closer she sailed, and over the horizon, and it became clear what was distorting the sky. It was a fire in the middle of the sea, its red flames flaring up to the clouds. When Ignitus stopped again, staring in shock, the girl could see this time what lay before them.

As she scrambled to lower the sails, a piece of charred wood bumped against the hull of her boat, rocking it slightly. She looked up in equal parts wonder and horror at the flaming wreckage of at least ten ships, half-sunken into the sea. They lay tilted, the striped red and white sails covering the waves like a blanket, as airtight crates and barrels peppered the surface of the water.

An air pirate fleet, sinking into the depths.

They didn't have to wonder who the perpetrator was, either. Nearby, there was the remains of another wreckage. The sea had almost claimed it, but even so, it was clear enough that this was a different type of boat. One meant for water, not air.

Carefully, the girl paddled over to it, peering down into the sea. Most of it was gone, but a dragon figurehead with curved, deadly horns and his face twisted into a horrifying scowl was sinking into the depths. Malefor. A sail as black and blank as coal floated towards her before succumbing to the water and floating down, as the rest of the ship disappeared.

Ignitus flew down, and the two watched that boat sink into the darkness. "That was a ship belonging to the apes," the Guardian said solemnly.

"Aren't they all...?" The girl looked up in alarm. "When they invaded Warfang, they were practically dead already! Wouldn't they be entirely gone by now? There's no way they could..."

"Apparently not." He stared at the place where the boat had once been, then turned. "We'd best keep moving."

The girl swallowed, but did what he said, raising the sails to full so she could get out of there as soon as possible. She only looked back at the carnage once, the fire lighting up her face eerily in the dim, cloudy light. But she turned back, ready to quickly put this watery grave behind her.

But for the rest of the day, she remained on guard, looking about in fear. Something was wrong.

~~...~~

The island they found was forested and of decent size, big enough that when they headed inland, the waves were barely audible through the thick trees. As they were in dangerous waters, they decided to camp out off the shore that night to avoid their fire being spotted.

At least the rain had stopped, but the sky had turned a rather odd colour. Dark and hazy like an illusion. What should have been daylight was twilight. Ignitus was concerned about being in the open in this odd weather, so they had stopped a few hours early that night. If only they hadn't.

It was still chilly, and the girl was shivering from the rain earlier that day, so she was more than happy to build a roaring fire and get changed into a dry, black robe. With the thick clouds blocking the sun and moons, darkness descended quickly, and soon that light was all they had. Not even the stars pierced the murky skies.

Tonight, it was the girl looking pensive as she stared into the flames, her black eyes dancing. She would have been happy to remain silent the whole night, but her thoughts were buzzing so that Ignitus could barely interpret them, and he asked in curiosity, "What are you thinking about?"

The girl glanced up over the wall of fire, faltered, then looked away. It was quiet a moment more before she finally admitted, "Sometimes I wonder if I was really ready to make this journey at all. Or, more than that," she added, "If I made the right choice."

Ignitus tilted his head. "I can't answer that for you–"

"I know."

"–But if you wish to make that choice, it's never too late to turn back." He waited for her reaction, but she didn't move, so he continued, "I do not mind whichever you decide to do. If you wish, we could go back, and you could make this journey again when you're truly ready for it."

For a moment, Ignitus entertained the idea that she had been turned to stone, but finally she blinked and sighed. "I have to do this at some point. I... I was hoping I'd have a few years, not just a few months. But here I am."

She looked at the Guardian, clarity in her eyes. "If I go back now, what do you think that will be telling Tyren? That when I say goodbye, I don't mean it?" The girl shook her head. "Next time I go, he'll wait for me to come back. He'll spend his whole life waiting. I can't do that to him. And the last thing I want is for him to think I played with his emotions by returning, only to abandon him again."

The child shook her head even more vigorously. "If I have to go, it might as well be now. And I can't turn back. So there's nothing to do but go forward."

Ignitus said nothing. It wasn't as if he could argue with that, because she was right. If she returned now, it would only hurt Tyren more. And, perhaps, she would never gather the courage to leave again at all.

But after a few minutes of reflection passed, the girl looked up again. "There's one thing that's been bugging me... Could you promise me something?"

Ignitus waited expectantly, and she asked seriously, "Will you look after any humans that come here again?"

Before the dragon could point out that he didn't have many months left, she said quickly, "You, and the other Guardians. If it happened to me, it could happen again." She stared at him with hollow black eyes. "Please. It'd be something off my mind."

Ignitus sighed; he knew it would be hard to convince the others of that. One way or another, they had lost all the children they were meant to protect, except Tyren–so far. And if the next human had the same determination to return home, it would be another friend lost all over again.

"I cannot promise for them," the dragon said somberly, "But I can promise that I will tell them what you asked."

She nodded. "That's good enough." The girl closed her eyes, but opened them again with a blink as something cold landed on her nose.

She looked up, seeing droplets of white spiralling towards her and disintegrating in the heat of the fire. "It's snowing."

As she stared up at the sky, the wind began to pick up, brushing its way through the trees. And with it was carried faint sounds that caused Ignitus to stiffen and go on guard immediately. The girl, with her less keen ears, looked up in confusion at his sudden shift in demeanour.

But a moment later, she heard it too. Howling.

Not just any sort of howling, the cries of wolves of birds or other wild creatures, but something more twisted and sinister. Insane laughter reached their ears, echoing all around them, so that they couldn't tell if it was just one creature or many making these horrifying sounds.

Slowly, the girl stood and drew her sword, but the firelight couldn't penetrate the shadows encroaching all around her. But she saw now that those shadows were shifting, tenuous, as if they may burst forth and consume them at any moment.

It was the eyes she saw first, glowing green lights that pierced the black. She whipped around, but the eyes were all around her, swarming into their little clearing.

"Run." She didn't realize how fast her heart was pounding until Ignitus' low voice pulled her out of her terror.

Her voice came out steadier than she thought it would. "Not unless you're right behind me." He looked at her with something like pity and aggravation, so she shook her head. "Then I'm not leaving!"

The first creature stepped into the light, drawing her attention, and she had to swallow a scream at his horrifying appearance. She'd been almost right. The apes were gone, though they clung to life still. He'd left behind his glowing eyes in the shadows, but something blacker than pitch radiated off his skin–what was left of it–like a sickness.

As they all stepped forward, she saw that the apes were in various states of decomposition. Some were naught more than skeletons, with bits of flesh clinging to the bone like they'd been picked apart by wolves. Some were half bone half ape, with bits of coarse fur clinging in patches to open flesh, hide giving way to bone and muscle. And the smell, like something dead or rotting, but worse.

She watched the circle close in fully as the apes stepped slowly forward into the clearing. There was no running now.

Ignitus didn't hesitate any longer. From his maw sprung a wave of fire that left the apes in front of him howling and running about. The remaining monsters descended immediately, and the girl was met with a clash of steel as one ape with a huge cleaver came for her. The battle had begun.

Though still an amateur by far, the girl had come into this world a small, weak teenager. But she had been training. Even if it was just reps against the dummy, it had kept her strong and swift. The apes, in their sagging, feral state, couldn't keep up with her as she dodged and weaved around them–and then, with a slash or stab of her sword, went in for the kill.

Ignitus finished them off with flames, for physical wounds didn't mean much when you were just a skeleton, and they kept this rhythm going. But more and more apes swarmed in, like they would never stop. She kept fighting, because she had to. Though as the battle wore on, even Ignitus was starting to look tired, a fact she tried not to acknowledge.

But while most of these monsters were completely lost, to stupid to follow the duo's quick movements, one of them wasn't entirely braindead. Half his face was pure bone, but flesh clung to the other side, giving him a ghastly appearance. But there was still a bit of a brain in his skull, and he watched the fight go on from the sidelines with a narrowed eye.

The younger of the two was the weak link. Predictable. If she went down, they both went down. So, just as the girl finished off an ape and stopped to catch her breath, he stepped forward, plunging his rusty longsword to where her chest had been moments before.

She was certainly quick on her feet. But weak, unsure. He could take her down, and the dragon with her.

Their skirmish was short and fierce. The ape was nearly as fast as she was, and with his constant swings and stabs, she couldn't get a shot in edgewise. Ignitus noticed her struggle out of the corner of his eye, but he was in the middle of five unarmed apes trying to dig their bony clawed fingers into his flesh.

There were only about ten left. The charred piles of the others' corpses lay scattered about, dozens of them. Though the apes still alive were hulking, strong monsters, it would be no problem to take them out. They could do this. They had to.

The girl was still frantically dodging, her quick, fluid pace turning to stumbles and hasty, sloppy dodges as the ape refused to let up. Just a little longer, she convinced herself. Ignitus would clean up the creatures attacking him and help her.

Seeing something in the corner of her eye, she turned, intending to just get a quick glance. But what she saw approaching from the shadows–an ape holding a wide-barreled gun she recognized as one that shot a net–caused her heart to surge in panic. "Look out!" she cried to Ignitus.

The ape saw his chance and took it. Retribution was swift. One moment, the girl was standing there unharmed. The next, her sword flew out of her hand, and she felt a weird pressure in her stomach and back. She looked down slowly in confusion.

That's not supposed to be there.

It didn't fully register until she saw the blood seeping down the blade that was embedded in her stomach. And going out her back too, judging by the stinging she felt there. Ignitus was yelling something, but his voice seemed far away. So distant.

That moment seemed to last forever, but it was only seconds later when the ape, with a heave, pulled his sword back out of her. The girl felt fire in her chest as blood gushed out of the open wound, staining the ground red. And she fell, wide-eyed in shock, into the blanket of snow that wrapped its cold arms around her.

Ignitus was prepared to gallop over and lay waste to the monster now looming triumphantly over her, but it was this distraction that doomed him. The ape behind him shot his net-gun, entangling the dragon in it so that he couldn't even turn his head. He growled, releasing a wave of fire that left the rope glowing, but the apes before him jumped back. He was helpless.

As all this happened, the girl could only watch from the ground as her vision grew more and more hazy. The ape turned away from her, leaving her there to bleed out as he sauntered over to Ignitus. Out of his boot he pulled a cruel, sharp dagger, as the apes rallied around the immobilized dragon and cheered. Their piercing, gleeful screams were like a banshee's cry.

Her body was cold, numb, but she could feel Ignitus' terror lighting her on fire. Or maybe that was just the wound, still burning up in her chest. She craned her head, seeing the snow around her stomach seeping, crawling as it turned red.

It was getting dark now. Slipping into unconsciousness would be so easy, but a part of her struggled to remain awake. This wasn't right. She couldn't bleed out here. And Ignitus...

Her friend had found solace in his death, knowing it had helped Spyro find the strength to carry on. But now the ape was approaching the snarling dragon with the dagger, preparing to slit his throat. The other Guardians, they would wait for weeks for Ignitus' return. But no one would ever find their bodies here.

They would have to tell Spyro that, in his absence, Ignitus had died. And the boy would blame himself, tear himself apart, until he lost hope. Without his mentor's wisdom, the purple dragon would fail. The world would fall into ruin.

And Lily... Lily would be alone with Dad. The abuse would shift to her, if it hadn't already. The girl had, at least, taken the blows for her, ushered her out on those mornings when he was on a rampage, hid her safely out of sight on the bad nights when he banged on their door. And found solace knowing that her sister was protected.

But Lily wouldn't have even that comfort. And then, all those bad thoughts that had once afflicted her sister, those thoughts of giving up, would come to that little brown-eyed girl. This time, there would be nothing to stop it.

And yet, she could only lay there and watch as Ignitus struggled. She couldn't find the strength to even move her body.

What would happen to her once she died? Would she see Auren again? Would she become one of the ancestors that guided this world? That would be alright. At least, then, she could be with her friend again.

Was that him she felt, his cold, icy presence hovering over her, laying a cool paw on her shoulder? Maybe it was just an echo, a bloodloss delusion, but she found comfort in it. Feeling suddenly calm, the girl closed her eyes, preparing to take Auren's paw and let him guide her to the spirit world.

It felt like hours later when she opened them again to the tired reality, but only a few moments had passed. She could see that, for the ape had only just stepped forward to lay the knife against the struggling Guardian's throat.

Something was calling her back, insistent. But I can't move, she thought. What can I do?

Her eyes travelled up, to a glinting, shiny object laying a few feet in front of her. In the firelight dancing behind her, she could just read the letters carved into the blade, though she had it memorized already.

Never give up without a fight.

The girl didn't realize she was sitting up until pain shot through her body. But, all of a sudden, the heaviness that had dampened her limbs was lifted, the cloudiness in her mind cleared. She stared down at her fingers, curling them, then reached out to take the sword.

Ignitus had managed to struggle enough so the ape trying to execute him had to realign, but now the knife was pressed firmly against his throat, and the ape grinned up at him with yellow fangs.

“This...” The word was so quiet that only he heard it, and the dragon looked up to see the girl that had once lain bleeding and dead on the ground, now on her knees, clutching her shortsword in shaking hands.

“This doesn't hurt...”

Eyes blazing, she looked up suddenly as adrenaline flooded her. She'd been close to death, but now, she'd never felt more alive. “IT DOESN'T HURT!”

The apes looked back at her scream that echoed through the woods. But by that time, she had already crossed the gap between them, leaving a trail of blood in the snow behind her. A cleave of her sword, and two of them went down. She pounced on the next one, stabbing him in whatever flesh was left until he stopped moving.

Now not being held down, Ignitus managed to untangle himself and hit an ape trying to escape with a fireball to the back. But it seemed that his work was cut out for him. The girl was on a rampage, flying between what few apes were left.

They struggled, some running, some fighting back, and the child took a few hits from an enemy that came at her swinging a hammer. But she couldn't even feel the pain anymore. And her blazing, flaming, insane eyes sent most of them packing–until she caught up with them and delivered a swift stab to the back.

Ignitus had seen this bloodlust before, back when she had fought against the ape, but not to this extent. He could only hang back and watch. It was like she had been possessed by some demon. Her calm eyes were now constricted in insanity, her face contorted into an expression of rage. He was afraid, if he stepped in too close, she'd turn on him as well.

It was a short clean up. In minutes, with Ignitus' help, there were no apes left. Their bodies lay at their feet. It was done.

And that was when the adrenaline pumping through her veins began to fade. The girl stood motionless, breathing hard, unable to catch her breath. She looked slowly down to her hands, but she couldn't tell if the red staining them was from the blood that still gushed from her stomach and back, or from the creatures she had just massacred.

Then, all at once, the tiredness, the heaviness she had left behind came crashing back into her body like a wave. The burst of life that had propelled her faded, leaving her empty and weak. Her legs gave out, and she fell into the soft, cold snow.

Ignitus would be safe, now. He may return alone, without her, but he would be alive. He would live to tell her story. Spyro wouldn't lose his strength or determination, and this world would live on.

And Lily... Lily would be alright. She felt sure of it. That little girl was strong where she was weak; Lily would be able to look ahead with hope. Anyway, she'd have to now. There was nothing more that could be done.

Maybe even Tyren could find comfort, knowing that now, having died in this world, she could watch over him. She and Auren together. A shadow passed by, standing over her, leaning down. The girl smiled; this time, she knew it was him. Auren... She couldn't be sure if she had whispered it or if it was an echo in her thoughts. Reality was fading, and the only thing she could feel was the cool snowflakes, like soft feathers, falling onto her skin.

But she couldn't hang on to consciousness anymore. Ignitus was alright, and that was all that mattered. She could die now. So she let herself slip away.

Chapter Text

Pain, searing up her stomach and into her chest, down to her legs and curling through her skull. That was what first pierced the veil, and she pulled away, longing for sleep again. A familiar voice reprimanded her. "Be still."

She opened bleary eyes, every moment threatening to drag her back into unconsciousness. Groaning, she managed to roll her head down without squirming too much and get a good view of her situation. Ignitus was wrapping a thick layer of gauze around her middle, but every layer was soon soaked with red again.

His expression... Like nothing she'd seen from the calm dragon before. Terror mixed with emotions like paint. Pain, anger, anxiety, frustration. "If that sword had hit any of your organs," he said gravely, eyes focused on his work, "you'd be dead by now."

The girl looked deliriously around. The snow around her body was red, and a trail of more bloody snow led to it, where he'd dragged her to prop her up on this tree. Weakly she raised her hand to wipe a dribble of cold blood off her mouth. She wanted to sleep, but her body screamed against it.

"We have to go back to Warfang," Ignitus said, still not looking at her. The damn bandages wouldn't stop bleeding through. "Or else you're not going to make it. You may not anyway. I should be able to make the flight in two days if I don't rest."

"No, no..." the girl mumbled, reaching her hand out and wincing at the pain that shot down her side. "Gotta keep going... We're almost there, and I... I have to... Keep going..."

That was all she could manage before the darkness broke, wrapping around her and pulling her into a blissful sleep, free from pain.

Dreams and visions and nightmares, dancing forward like a parade and falling away again, always returning to the void. She was alone, flying, falling. Through dreams and memories she rose and fell, tumbling about in all directions until she didn't know where she was anymore.

She wondered if she was dying in her sleep, watching her life flash before her eyes. But these memories were distorted. Black figures looming, girls of light dancing on a grey horizon, dragged into the dark. Her friends smiling in a greyscale painting, their teeth turning sharp as they devoured her. A child, white as snow, turning red, red, red.

And him. They stood across from each other, staring. Two kids from different worlds, brought together, torn apart.

Was he real? Maybe he hadn't visited her because he was worried, worried she would stay for him, even dead. Maybe he'd come to say goodbye. Or hello. To bring her home, in the afterlife. At least they'd be together. At least they could look after Tyren.

"Auren..." Her whisper carried across the world, resounding like a song, like a shard of glass catching the light.

He took a step, then another, and suddenly he was standing before her. She crouched down, and they were eye-to-eye, black and blue swirling together like watercolour. Something dark and muddy, yet beautiful.

Auren touched his forehead to hers, and though she couldn't feel him, the girl felt relaxed and calm. Like she was in a warm bubble. She closed her eyes. This wasn't too bad, anyway. She could live with dying, if it meant he was here with her.

His voice hit her, striking a chord as it echoed through the soundless void. She hadn't heard it in so long, and she was so wrapped up in it that she barely even registered the command.

"Live."

The girl opened her eyes and reached out to catch him, but the boy was gone. And around her, the void crumbled.

She was cold. Wind whipped past her, raising goosebumps on her skin; she shivered, pressing into the warm thing she lay on. But its faint warmth could not quell the freezing gusts. Slowly, blearily, her eyes opened, pulling her from dreams.

The clouds above surged past at an alarming speed. She was moving, she could feel that. In the boat? Her head fell to the side, gazing half-asleep past Ignitus' orange shoulder. Hundreds of feet below, the ocean was rolling away under her.

Letting out a little yelp, the girl struggled and sat up quickly, but the pain running up her chest delivered a swift reminder that she was injured. Her vehicle shifted, and she thought she was going to go tumbling down into the waves until it steadied. "Sit still, please!" a voice chastised sharply.

The girl looked about in wonder, finally realizing where she was. On Ignitus' back, in the sky. She would have been thrilled at finally becoming a "dragon rider" if the throbbing in her stomach and the haziness in her mind wasn't wearing her down.

He obviously couldn't crane his neck around to see her, but the dragon glanced back. "Are you alright?"

"Wh-what happened?" Her voice came out weaker than she thought it would, startling her. And she felt... So fuzzy, darkness encroaching. Her body clashed in conflict, one moment begging for sleep, and the next, pushing against it.

"What do you remember?" His voice held a layer of shoddily masked concern.

The girl thought for a moment, pushing past the fog to her memories. "We stopped on that island... The apes... They stabbed me and captured you, and then..." Having already run out of breath, the girl took a moment.

She didn't jolt up this time, but the girl twisted around to look at him, remembering their brief conversation. "Where are we going?" she demanded. "We have to keep going to the White Isle–we have to, I can't–"

The great dragon shook his head. "Against my better judgment, I've done as you asked." She relaxed, slumping. "You were right. We wouldn't have made it back to Warfang; we'll just have to hope that the Chronicler can help you."

Looking down at her bandages, the girl swallowed. It wasn't soaked through, but the thick layers were turning red. She hadn't stopped bleeding yet. Right now she felt okay, but weak, drained of strength. It would take her weeks of bedrest to recover just from the damage that had already been inflicted. If her wounds wouldn't heal over...

He was right, though. That sword had to have missed her organs... Nicked an intestine, maybe, but anything more and she'd have succumbed to internal bleeding hours ago. She was lucky to be alive. But... for how long?

"I should have been more careful..." Ignitus muttered to himself. "I should have scouted out the island first, and I never should have left you to fight alone. This is my fault."

The girl looked down with a grimace. What if she died, and he was left behind to believe that? "This isn't your fault, Ignitus. You couldn't have known."

"And yet," the dragon said tiredly, "Through my inaction, I may have killed a third child."

A few moments of silence passed. She wasn't sure what to say to calm his self-doubt. But as the ocean turned to dirt and sand, a small island passing below them, determination seized the girl. "Land," she commanded.

Ignitus looked back in confusion, both at her odd request and her tone. "What?"

"Just land, please!"

Though bewildered, the Guardian did as she asked, heading down towards a foresty island below. Nearly as soon as they hit the dirt, the human was struggling and clambering down off her friend's back. He had to catch her from falling once she was on her feet–she was more frail than she thought–but the girl managed to steady herself.

Taking a few steps back, she drew her sword, steel glinting in the morning sunlight. Ignitus only had a moment to wonder what in the world she was doing before she thrust it into the dirt and crouched next to it, as if being knighted by the queen.

"For as long as I shall exist in this world," she began in a dignified tone, "I solemnly pledge to protect the Guardians. With my sword, I shall gladly give up my life in order to preserve theirs, so that this world will persevere. And..." Her grand voice faltered for a moment as she had to catch her breath and swallow, a bit of pain needling up her backside.

"And, may the ancestors bear witness to this pact and hold it sacred!" With her speech finished, she stood shakily, pulling her sword out of the dirt and sheathing it.

They both stood there quietly for a moment, until the girl gathered her thoughts and looked up. "There," she said with a weak, cheerful smile on her face. "Now... You can't blame yourself."

Ignitus looked at her in consternation, at a loss for words. Normally he'd assume this was her typical play-acting or storytelling, but he could see that she was sincere. How could she, while slowly wasting away, pledge her life to protect the person who had failed her?

Finally, the dragon shook his head, turning quickly. "We'd best keep moving. Time is of the essence." It was all he could say.

So the girl climbed back on, and they resumed their flight, racing the clock that ticked down, the sand in the hourglass falling.

~~...~~

The girl slept intermittently throughout that inappropriately sunny day, but every time she woke up, she only felt worse. The rest conserved what little energy she had, but it couldn't heal her injury. Sometimes, when she drifted off while staring up into that pretty cloudless sky, she wondered if she wouldn't have the strength to wake up again.

By the time afternoon rolled in, the bandage was soaked through, staining her fingers red when she touched it. Ignitus, though strong, was growing weary from the constant flight. Neither of them had eaten all day.

So they decided to stop on a small island, barely big enough for the two of them, and take a short rest. The last time they had landed, the girl at least had been able to clamber off by herself. But now, Ignitus had to help her, and his friend would have collapsed immediately if she hadn't him to cling to.

Once her bandage was replaced and the gauze tied tightly around her wound–which the Guardian noticed didn't look at all better than it had last night–they sat down to eat. No fire, just some simple, quick food. They needed to be in the skies again as soon as possible.

At least she's still coherent, the dragon thought grimly, observing her struggle to even bring the food to her mouth. He'd seen it before. It started with the weakness as their body struggled against the lack of blood. After a while, if they went untreated, they became delusional, panicked, confused. Then... They went to sleep. And they never woke up.

Sometimes it took hours, sometimes minutes. She was holding out for nearly a whole day. Should she keep it up, they might just have a chance to make it to the White Isle. But if the Chronicler could do nothing for her... Then she would die in this world.

He snapped out of his thoughts to realize that the girl had finished and now stared blankly at the ground. The black eyes once full of life, that he had once thought of as endless, were now dull and dying.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but paused and took a breath. Finally, a few wavering words escaped her. "I lied about the train," she said hoarsely, not looking at him. "We all did that, not just me. I wanted to protect them. I thought..." She trailed off.

Ignitus looked at her, tilting his head. "You think I didn't know that?"

The child leaned forward, nearly toppling to the ground. "I'm sorry I lied. And Tarrok... I didn't tell you...

"He kidnapped me, but even though he could have taken me far away and never let me go, he didn't–he didn't, he brought me home. I didn't want him to get hurt, because he's like me, it's just that he loves Warfang so much, and we didn't understand each other–so please don't, don't hurt him–and Tyren, please make sure he always has a home–make sure he never hurts himself again–and–and–"

She was rambling now, random regrets and worries and pain spilling together, because maybe she would never get a chance to say what had been left unsaid. But none of it mattered anymore. Ignitus stood, placing a comforting paw on her shoulder. "Alright," he said. "It's alright. Enough."

The girl went quiet, staring wordless at the ground, and he rose to pack up and get ready to go. She was already entering the second stage of blood loss, it seemed, and they still had a whole night to get through. But before Ignitus could get far, she reached out with sudden vigor and grabbed his arm, a burst of clarity in her eyes.

"I was never really the best person," she said with all her usual strength and sincerity. "I was annoying, and stupid, and short-sighted... But I promise..." She smiled as brightly as her strength would allow. "I tried really hard!"

And Ignitus could only stare. Because here was a girl, a girl who had taken everything this world had to throw at her with an unfaltering smile. And now, even on the brink of death, she still never lost that light. Even as her strength withered and faded away, she strived to be the best she could be.

He saw now, months later, that he had been wrong. He'd thought, that upon seeing the horrors of this world, that light inside her would be erased. But even after being forced to kill, even after losing her friend to this war and watching his brother struggle–even while she lay dying–she still smiled.

Only death would snuff that light out. And, though it may mean that she would be gone forever from this world, he could not let that happen. So he flew faster than ever towards the end. If taking her home was the only way to save her, then so be it.

~~...~~

They flew straight on through the night, not stopping for even a small break. The sky seemed to welcome them, the winds always carrying them towards their destination. Perhaps the ancestors really were looking after them.

As the moons sunk into the depths of the ocean and light tinged the horizon, the girl woke up from a brief sleep. With the hours that had passed that night, the fog had consumed her mind once again. She could feel her body and will struggling against its fate, and it had taken all her energy in that fight. So the friends hadn't spoken, and there was little but quiet between them that night.

But now, even in her failing mind, the girl was thinking deep thoughts. Once she managed to gather them into a coherent pile, she finally spoke aloud. "Ignitus... Can I ask you a weird question?"

Once he would have amiably replied, and they would have had an amusing philosophical discussion, comparing ideals that had spawned from two very different worlds. But now... He couldn't seem to answer at all.

She thought for a moment, unfazed by his unresponsiveness, and finally said, "Do you believe in destiny?"

"I have to fly faster," the dragon sighed to himself, beating his tired wings with extra vigor. "You're talking nonsense now..."

She gave a little huff of frustration. "No, no, I mean it! Listen..." The weakening girl had to catch her breath, but she continued, "What I mean is... I think... I think if I'm meant to live, then I will. But if I'm meant to die then, maybe, you can see the good in it, and something might happen that wouldn't have if I had lived. That's all.

"Not something that you have no control over, something inescapable that's going to take place no matter what you do... Just that, no matter what does happen..." She smiled up at the sky. "Maybe something good will come of it, right?"

Ignitus said nothing. He saw what she meant, but her tragedy would be a needless death, a constant reminder that he hadn't done enough. That was all. There would be no silver lining in the loss of this child.

The girl exhaled, her smile fading as she frowned. "I don't know how to say what I mean. It's not fair to say that everything happens for a reason... Just that, even when the worst does happen, you have to find a glimmer of hope in it." Finally settling on what she was trying to convey, she nodded. "If I die... I hope... that my life helped you. If only for a little while." Growing quickly tired from her big speech, she went silent.

"You're not going to die." It was all he could manage to say, the only thing he could believe. The alternative was impossible. He wouldn't let that happen.

But he was struck by the realization that he was powerless to affect her destiny, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

~~...~~

It was the sudden chill that woke her from black dreams, pulling her back into a cold reality. She opened her eyes, but the dark almost-morning sky was hazy and far away. The air was almost as heavy as it had been that first day. Managing, barely, to sit up, she looked around.

Fog, enclosing them, blocking out the horizon and the sky and the murky ocean below. Ignitus was no longer cutting through the air, but flying at a slower pace. Searching. "You're awake?" Ignitus asked, noticing her stirring. "How are you feeling?"

She had to muster the strength just to find an answer. "Don't feel anything," she mumbled. And it was true. Her body was numb, her mind comfortably blank. "Almost there."

Frowning, the dragon beat his wings and sped up a little. With this unnatural fog, she must be right. But he had to be careful. One wrong move and he'd overshoot the tiny island entirely. He couldn't afford to waste time flying in circles.

A cry like a siren's call in the distance drew both their attention, and to the right, they saw a silhouette slipping into the fog. A yellow tail splashing the water was all they could make out. Leviathan, a dragon's guide, passive ocean creatures who seemed to always appear when needed most.

Though he thought he was on a straight shot to the Isle, Ignitus trusted his instincts and veered off course, allowing the leviathan's shadow to guide him. The girl didn't protest; she knew these creatures had helped Spyro many times. She watched the glint of its turtle shell shining through the fog.

The water was lightening to a soft aqua the further he flew, becoming almost translucent, though the thick fog marred its beauty. The girl was alert for once, leaning over to watch that pretty water pass by, squinting into the distance for any sign or shadow.

It was the sound she first heard, almost like a distant singing without voices, barely audible through the wind and waves. Even the human could feel the hum of magic growing stronger. Eventually, as they chased that shadow, something like a beacon broke through the fog.

The Guardian slowed his flight, and the mist seemed to suddenly pull back to reveal it. The White Isle. With a roar, the leviathan sunk into the depths, leaving them to stare. White sand like snow dotted the rocky beach, the only safe place to land, and stone faces resembling mountains curved up to encircle a beautifully carved temple. After all this time... Their destination lay quietly before them.

She examined the island, drinking it in. On those crags, crystals that resembled giant spirit gems stuck out of the rock. They glowed gentle blues and reds, and that seemed to be the source of the strong magic that they could almost see. The girl remembered the jolt like electricity when she'd touched a spirit gem cluster, and wondered if she'd short-circuit on the spot should she come into contact with one of these monsters.

They landed on that pretty white beach that sloped up towards a grand door. Around them, the ocean stood still like a pool of calm water, not a single wild wave daring to touch this shore. The gentle blue glow it threw off lit the beach mystically, giving it a sort of calm beauty.

The girl tried to get down, but just moving her legs a few inches filled her with exhaustion. Finally, she gave in with a slump. Too weak to even walk now, she noted with frustration. Would she drop dead on the Chronicler's doorstep? Why was it taking her so long to die; why did her life dwindle, slowly getting weaker, forcing her to suffer like this?

Ignitus didn't notice her brief struggle. The dragon had seen many things in his long life, but this was something only perhaps a pawful of creatures had ever set eyes upon. Even he, always calm and even-tempered, was in awe. But he snapped out of it quickly, remembering the weight on his back. No time to lose, now.

So he set foot up that hill towards the entrance. Much like the Temple's own architecture, it was a carved wood door with a glowing ball in the center, the essence of the spell that detected another creature's magic and opened for them. From the rumours, Ignitus wouldn't have expected it to open without a fight. But as they approached, the door seemed to pause for a moment. Then finally, tentatively, it creaked open, allowing them passage.

"Spyro had trials," the girl said, remembering. She briefly smiled at the memory of her boyfriend's frustration with this level, finally shoving the controller at her with a huff. She'd spent as much time as she could in that clean house, playing on his consoles–a luxury she'd never been afforded.

The scars his mom left, the ones that drove him to run away, weren't like the bruises her dad had given her. She made him dinner and bought him Christmas presents and gave him a nice house to live in, like a normal parent, not like the girl's dad, but there was anything but normalcy in that house.

The girl's smile faded. Her thoughts were slipping, wandering, like she was about to fall asleep. She willed herself to stay awake and focused. They were so close, now.

They'd wandered through that great doorway and into a small sandy courtyard. Before them stood a building made of the same eloquently rune-carved wood as the Temple, with a high, curving doorway leading into darkness. Ignitus looked about warily at his friend's warning, but the only thing here was a few stone statues.

"Through the caves," the child whispered. Nodding, Ignitus stepped forward into the dark. And as they passed into the shadow, the girl caught her last glimpse of the lightening blue sky. She would die in these caves, or she would go home. So she drunk in every colour, every pink and blue hue swirling together, until the light was gone.

~~...~~

They walked through that grotto for what seemed like hours, pathways twisting and turning around them, wandering an endless maze. Some passages were so narrow that Ignitus had to duck and the girl nearly scraped her face on the rocky ceiling. Some were expansive, with vaulted ceilings and tall dragon statues sitting proud within them.

But one thing was always missing. There were no puzzles, no trials. No statues awakening to attack, no orb-spiders approaching from the shadows. The caves were still and quiet.

Was it because Spyro had already done them, and they simply hadn't reset? Or was the Chronicler allowing them to pass? She could guess why, and it wasn't because she was dying. But she couldn't tell Ignitus that. That was one secret she'd sworn to keep.

Eventually, once they had wandered blindly through rooms empty but of a few glowing spirit gems, the dirt beneath Ignitus' paws turned to clean stone. Through a tall archway he walked, entering... a room. Not a cave or a grotto or a place cut into the rock, but a room made of strong, smooth stone, with pretty runes and tapestries covering the walls.

The girl had been entranced by the Isle's beauty, but now, her curiosity reinvigorated her tired bones. "I wanna get down," she said, shifting.

Ignitus had been assessing the doorways, wondering which path to take, but he looked back in surprise. "Are you sure? Are you alright to walk?"

The girl nodded, sliding off his back. The dragon reached out, but she caught herself as she hit the ground. "Doesn't hurt anymore."

With the child off his back, the Guardian was finally able to get a good look at her, and he wasn't sure he believed her. She was shaking and pale, and he could almost feel her fast pounding heart from where he stood. Her breathing was shallow, like she couldn't quite get enough air, but she didn't seem to even notice as she took a few shaky steps forward.

"Doesn't hurt," she reassured, her voice still thick and slow. "I'm just... tired."

Tired, that's all. Like she could go to sleep and wake up refreshed, ready to face her own world. Like she wasn't dying. Just keep walking, she thought, and she followed Ignitus through the tall doorways. Into the dark.

They wandered through these rooms, searching for the way to the Chronicler. They were right on the brink of finding him. But many doorways were dead ends, leading to what appeared to be comfortable bedrooms. Even kitchens and living rooms and reading rooms dotted the halls–though it was unlikely that this place's inhabitant ever used them. Had he, once, had visitors? Having not seen anyone before Spyro in a thousand years, those days must have been long gone.

Indeed, the cloths were faded, furniture sagging, and cobwebs hung in dusty corners. There was magic here, but it was only a reminder of what once was. Dying embers of past ghosts.

After searching through a few rooms, the duo managed to find a winding hallway, lit dimly by floating candles. But the light at the end of the tunnel seemed so far away, and it felt like they were meandering down that hall for hours. Like they'd walk forever and never reach the end.

Ignitus wondered if he should have protested more. He had to walk slowly so his friend could keep up–who seemed to be rapidly losing strength and awareness, and now leaned on either him or the wall just to take a few steps.

Even if they made it, they may have to send her back to the human world unconscious or, at best, unresponsive. If that happened... Even with the advanced medicine she had talked about, medicine that could do miracles and save the dead or dying... He couldn't hold more than a glimmer of hope for her survival.

It was her voice, echoing suddenly down the hall, that drew him out of his dark thoughts. "What did you mean?"

"What did I mean by what?" Ignitus tried to grab hold of her thoughts to get some context to this odd question, but they were so dim that they were indecipherable.

She stopped in the middle of the hallway to catch her breath, unable to raise her head. Ignitus stopped and waited patiently, not wanting to push her to exhaustion in this state. "You said... I was different."

I bet you thought I was just a foreigner too!

But no, not for a second had he thought that. Considered it, maybe, but he'd known. The moment he looked at her, staring up in terror and yet, curiosity and familiarity at him, he knew. She wasn't from this world.

And it's not that she wasn't normal, like she was special. She was no Spyro. She didn't have some grand destiny, nor did she possess the pure determination, the endless energy, that Spyro had. She was a typical person in every way. But there was still something.

"We're almost there," Ignitus said, turning his gaze forward and resuming his walk.

She followed begrudgingly, and once they'd taken a few steps, the dragon looked ahead as he spoke. "Throughout this war, even the best of us have lost our courage. Our strength gave out long ago. But you... had a light inside you. A light of hope that the creatures of this world have lost." Not expecting an answer, the girl looked up in surprise. "Something I'd only seen in Spyro."

She thought about this. She'd noticed that too. The Guardians were so tired. Like sometimes, they only kept fighting because they had to, because they were used to it, because there was nothing else. The people in Warfang, though they smiled, had dull eyes. Just biding their time 'til the end. Serena, Cedric, Strider... Auren. All of them had that same tired expression.

But she had seen it. A spark. Just sometimes, just for a moment. A small bit of happiness in a cruel world.

"His hope, and your hope," Ignitus said solemnly, "brought a bit of light to this world. And," a smile almost pierced his grim expression, "to me as well."

The girl paused for a moment, leaning on the wall, then smiled herself. It wasn't about changing the world or saving it. It was about taking a little piece of it and making it better.

If that was all she could do for this place, then she was happy.

Though it seemed as if it never would, the hallway came to an end. Ignitus and the girl stepped out into a wide circular room with a single door facing them. In the middle, a pool of glowing light sat waiting. The girl, even in her fading mind, recognized this place. It was where Spyro faced his greatest fear: seeing Cynder succumb to the darkness.

And now, the only barrier between them and the Chronicler lay silent and closed, as that pool of white luminescence glowed enticingly.

"Face alone what you fear most," the child murmured, taking a few tentative steps forward. She knew what she needed to do. Ignitus nodded, understanding, and they both stood on the precipice of that pool, gazing down into the endless brilliance.

"I think," said Ignitus, "this is for you."

She tilted her head, pondering. What was she afraid of, really? She felt that Spyro had known before he even stepped forward, but not her. Once, not so long ago, she had been terrified both of losing her friends to this war, and letting Lily slip away. Two different worlds that she was unable to protect. But now, she knew that they would all be okay without her. What was left?

Only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, steadying herself, the girl let go of Ignitus and fell into the light.

Years passed. She felt them slipping through her fingers, her mortal life slowly, slowly withering in a world of immortal magic. Blinking, she came to herself again, the whiteness still grabbing at her peripheral vision. Her body felt strong again, and she was able to think clearly once more. She curled her fingers and stretched, drinking in this intoxicating lifeforce.

Once her vision had cleared, the girl looked around, and for a moment, she thought she was back in Warfang again. Sunlight warmed her hollow skin, and that golden city lay spread before her, its towers taller than ever. Perhaps she had died, succumbed to the blood loss right then and there. Perhaps she was dreaming.

She looked down at her hand. Tenuous, almost translucent. She was a ghost in a world she didn't belong in. She wasn't real.

Turning, the girl was startled to find herself face-to-face with another human. She stumbled back with a yelp, nearly hitting the ground, but the woman didn't seem to notice her at all. Her face was worn and wrinkled, her eyes a dull grey, hair as glowing white as the pearly city.

How could a person so old survive here in this harsh world? Where had they come from, and how could they sit out in the open of this city without fear? Were the Guardians taking care of her?

Her eyes travelled down. In the elder woman's arms, a little grey hatchling with a goldy chest lay sleeping, nuzzled comfortably into her blue robes. It gave a big yawn, flashing pearly sharp teeth, which elicited a small laugh from both the woman and the girl.

Trying to figure out where she was, she turned and saw a grand three-story house spread out before her. They were in a part of the city she didn't recognize–not the sprawling, cramped, rich neighborhoods of Warfang East, or the quaint, quiet houses of the southern district, nor in the heart of the city whose towers lay far behind her. They were somewhere else. Strange.

A few miles away, a train whistle resounded from Warfang, the piercing cry causing the baby dragon to open its orange-red eyes with a blink. She glanced back in confusion, noticing now, among the towers, a curving train track winding its way through the city skyline. They had finished the train so fast? It had been a few months since she'd checked, but...

A thought striking her, the girl turned about in confusion. Beyond this great mansion, the paved stone just ended, giving way to grass, sparse trees, and then... Forest.

Where were the walls?

The house's stone doorway gave a little rumble as it opened, and the girl snapped her head around, going for her hood. But the dragon that stepped through ignored her, walking straight to the old woman. A black dragoness with pearly white horns, a sleek chestplate as red as blood, and bright green eyes...

"Cynder?" The girl gaped. But it couldn't be, not just because Cynder was sleeping in crystal right now. Cynder was small, no bigger than Auren, while this fully-grown dragon stood as tall as any of the Guardians. This was no teenager or child.

"She's adorable, Cyn," the old lady said amiably, confirming the bewildered girl's suspicions. "Took you long enough, I must say."

The black dragon, apparently Cynder, rolled her eyes and sat down next to the comfortable wooden bench the old woman sat on. "You humans are very strange, having children at twenty and thirty. Dragons wouldn't even think of that before they were fifty, and even then, it is still very young to hatch a child."

"Us mortals are not as long-lived as you," the woman said with a smirk. Was that... sarcasm? From an old lady? The longer this conversation went on, the more confused the child got.

Cynder snorted. "You should have seen the look on Spyro's face when I suggested it a few years ago..."

The two girls snickered as the purple dragon himself poked his head through the doorway, one eyebrow raised. "Are you talking about me?"

"Of course not," the duo said, so nearly in unison that it prompted another peal of laughter. The hatchling stared up with big, solemn eyes at the sudden rocking of the lap she'd made her bed. Shaking his head, a small smile on his face, Spyro disappeared back through the doorway.

The girl was getting more and more lost, wondering if this was some sort of play or practical joke. She could only stare from the sidelines, wondering what on earth was going on. Spyro and Cynder grown up? This random old woman? And what did all this have to do with her greatest fear?

"What are you going to name her?" the elder woman asked, scratching the tiny bumpy scales on the little hatchling's head. It craned its head and closed its eyes contently like a cat, giving a small sigh.

Cynder smiled. "We couldn't decide. We agreed on something like Ignitus for a boy, of course, but for a girl..." The hatchling clambered off the woman's lap, and Cynder gave it a nuzzle and a small push back towards the safety of her friend.

"Well," said the shadow dragon with a resolute nod, "Since we couldn't come up with anything, we thought that we might let you name her."

The old woman seemed taken off-guard, looking up in surprise. "That..." she began, finally wiping the shocked look off her face and smiling down at the baby, pleased. "Wow... That's a real honour."

Cynder smirked and said slyly, "Only because Spyro is so bad at coming up with names."

A few dishes or pottery clanked indignantly from inside the open door. "I can hear you, Cynder."

Bursting into laughter, it took the two friends quite a while to settle down. "So," Cynder said, still grinning, "Take some time to think about it, and..."

The old woman shook her head. "If it's alright," she said in her weary, aged voice, "I think I already know." She patted the hatchling, already fast asleep again, for a moment before nodding. "Lilian. Or, Lily for short. If you like it, of course."

Her sister's name... The girl stared with wide eyes as the realization hit her. Of course. It all made sense now. This was... another glimpse into the future.

Cynder seemed to sadden for a moment, looking away at the city sprawled before them. "I love it," she said gently. "I'm sure Spyro will too." She paused a moment, unsure how to say what she was trying to–still struggling a bit with social skills, even after all these years–but finally, the words came forth.

"Do you..." she began carefully, "Do you regret deciding to stay?"

A bit of pain flashed in the old woman's eyes, but, sighing, she shook her head. "It's a bit too late to think about that now, isn't it?" she asked with a rueful smile. "I... can't know what would have happened if I'd gone through with it, but...

"What's done is done." She nodded firmly, closing her cloudy eyes. "Tyren needed me to stay, so I did. And look at him now. I didn't mean to stick around forever, but... I grew to love this world. I made friends–" she opened her eyes and smiled at Cynder, reaching forward to pat her paw, "like you. So I cannot regret my decision."

The woman laughed. "Especially now that I'm so old."

Cynder looked conflicted, but finally, she too allowed a slight smile. "Well," she said, nuzzling the baby and standing to tell Spyro the news, "Lilian she is."

As the dragoness headed through the doors, the old woman closed her eyes and sighed, content with a peaceful sleeping hatchling in her arms. She had regrets. Of course she did. But she was happy.

And then the dream faded. The girl felt herself being pulled away from the warm bench, away from that happy home. The first thing she felt was the heaviness in her limbs–she hadn't realized how exhausted she was–before the blinding white light faded.

I understand now, she thought. For so long she had agonized over her choice, wondering if she had made the right decision, if she was leaving the wrong people behind. But she saw, now, that her greatest fear wasn't losing her friends, or dying in this world, or leaving Tyren behind. It wasn't even something scary.

What she feared most was the decision she hadn't made, and the consequences she could never have known.

She fell backwards into reality, but someone caught her, and she looked up to see Ignitus' concerned face. "How long was I out?" she rasped with a drained smile, shocked at how much her voice quavered.

"Just a few minutes." He helped her right herself, but she was able to stand steadily on her own. She had just a bit more energy left over from that experience, and her thoughts were, for the moment, clear.

They both jumped as the door on the far end of the room gave a long rumble and a scrape of stone before finally giving way. She'd passed her trial, and the door had opened for her. In that room, the Chronicler was waiting. Both of them stood there, as if unsure what to do, but it was the girl who took the first step forward.

The end had come. And she was ready for it.

The room they stepped into seemed bigger on the inside than it had appeared on the outside. A library of thousands and thousands of books, of all colours and degrees of wear, lined the walls. Glowing runes she could just read spelled out the names of their owners.

Clutter lined some of the shelves: potions, strangely designed trinkets, and more. Yet it didn't seem disorganized or haphazard in placement, more like they were arranged by some specific use. And there were a few tables here and there, set out with more books, papers, quills, and items.

The main feature, though, was the glowing hourglass that sat suspended in the middle of the room. Its holder was made of pure unmarked silver, the grains of sand like gold dust. She stared in, seeing her own messy reflection peering back, but she didn't dare press her hand against the smudgeless glass.

"You've finally made it. I've been waiting for you." The girl snapped to attention hearing that unfamiliar voice. From around the hourglass stepped a wizened old dragon with striking white eyes that seemed to see right through her soul.

She had known what the Chronicler looked like, but something about seeing his imposing figure before her filled her with a new sense of wonder and respect. But any fear the great dragon instilled dissipated as he offered a smile. "It is so good to finally meet you, young human. You've caused quite a stir in the flow of time."

"Heh, well." She scratched the back of her head sheepishly, but remembering her manners, quickly bowed. "It's an honour."

Ignitus followed suit, but to his surprise, the Chronicler himself bowed just as if not more low. "And you as well, Ignitus, though I didn't expect us to meet quite this soon." The Guardian tilted his head thoughtfully, but said nothing.

Turning, the Chronicler headed around the hourglass again, his blue silk robes swishing as he motioned for the others to follow. "Indeed, you both came at the perfect time. I'm just making the final preparations."

"You mean you know how to get me home?" the girl blurted out in excitement.

Ignitus glanced at her disapprovingly for interrupting, but the Chronicler wasn't fazed. He nodded, turning to his book stand. "I've been studying, trying to find a way to bridge our world and yours, almost since you arrived here–though I must say, your sudden entrance took me rather off-guard." The ancient dragon smiled and waved his paw. "I believe I've found a solution."

A white orb appeared before them, shifting as if something was trying to break out from within. Then, a picture burst through–a world of sharp, solid colours, unlike the oil painting the Dragon Realms seemed to be set in. The tall skyscrapers of human cities, deserts, forests, and–her little grey beach. "That's Earth," she whispered.

"And I believe I can put you back," the Chronicler said with a nod, his blue-white scales glinting in the light. "Thus far, my attempts at making a portal were... unsuccessful, but... I made a breakthrough just as you were preparing to come here."

All three of them turned as they heard a magical hum. The wide circular pedestal holding up the hourglass at once burst into light, and the object itself floated up towards the ceiling. "I just need a few more minutes, and I think it will be complete." The Chronicler turned back to the book on the pedestal, the pages flipping themselves as he stared down at it. "Please, feel free to look around. I'm sure you both must be curious."

Exchanging glances, the two shrugged and set off to poke around the grand library. After all, this was a once in a lifetime experience–at least for the girl. Despite her injury, her curiosity pushed her onwards, trailing around the library to examine all the volumes and trinkets.

Of course, she knew better than to flip through another person's book–they seemed cemented into the wall anyway, and the taller shelves were unreachable–so she just fingered the glowing runes and read the fantasy-like names to herself. Altaire. Kraceth. Dragsooth. She grew weak and had to sit down, so she read the bottom shelf names instead.

A question struck her as she browsed through the names on these books of stories. She was almost afraid to ask, but she had to know. "Do I have one?"

The Chronicler glanced back. "Of course." Pondering a moment, he finally located hers, and it floated right out of the shelf and onto her lap.

But she hesitated. Because she knew, when she opened it, what she would see. A downward spiral through her childhood. Her mother driving away in the middle of the night, her dad's face contorted in rage, running with Lily out the door. All she'd done, all she'd taken, all the lies she'd told to protect her. Over and over again.

Noticing her hesitation, the ancient dragon glanced up from his magical studies. "Why not read it, young one?"

She looked down at the black cover, tracing the golden metal edges, the runes of her name etched in the dragon language. "I don't want to see my childhood in here."

To her surprise, the Chronicler smiled as he turned back to his studies. "Open it."

Reluctantly, she followed his command, opening the thin book to the first page. The runes and pictures lit up before her like a hologram, and she had to stare for several seconds to comprehend it. It wasn't her birth or her mother she was looking at. It wasn't her childhood.

She saw herself opening her eyes and sitting up. Picking leaves from her hair, then, slowly, looking up in shock as she caught her first glance of the Temple.

Though she kept flipping the pages, nothing changed. She watched herself wandering through the Temple, meeting Ignitus and the Guardians, the days and the training she spent there. Warfang, meeting her friends. The ravine, the train. Auren... Tyren. All her triumphs and failures, her laughter and tears.

If she had even the tiniest sliver of doubt left about her decision, it slipped away at that moment. The girl found herself smiling down at her book. The past had no control over her. She could write her own story now.

Suddenly, there was a flash and a crackle of magic. The girl covered her face, squinting until her eyes adjusted to the bright light. The portal embedded in the ground now swirled with pale colours, and the Chronicler stood over it, peering down.

Gently setting her book on the table, she stood next to him and looked down too. In the shimmer of magic, she could just make out a familiar picture, though she couldn't quite remember what she was looking at.

"I believe I've done it," the dragon said solemnly, stepping back.

She stared down into the depths and gulped. "So, I just... step in? And that's it?"

The Chronicler nodded. "I do not know what will happen to you. I do not know where you will wake up, or when. Or if this will succeed at all. But this," he sighed, "is the best I can offer. Our worlds are very different."

She nodded. If this was the safest way, then she had to take the chance. But even now she couldn't seem to move. Just one step... And it would all be over, right?

"Listen closely to what I'm about to tell you, young one." The girl turned away from the portal, meeting that piercing gaze. "Did you know this? Sometimes, sheer power of will, the will to live upon death, can change time itself. Even I don't yet understand how. You are the first of your kind but you will not be the last."

She blinked, staring up at him. Could someone just refuse to die?

The Chronicler turned his head towards the portal. "Once you return home, I do not know if you will have memories of what happened to you here. But I assure you, this is not a dream or a fantasy. Do you believe me?"

Of course, she had toyed with that idea before, that this was some sort of dream, or a final fantasy as her brain shut down. But after everything that had happened, she couldn't think for one moment that it had all just been a dream. "Yes."

"Without magic, or another... accident," he continued gravely, "you won't be able to come back here. Once you step through that portal, it will close. You will never be able to return."

The girl nodded. "I know." She had accepted that long ago.

There was a pause as the three of them stared down into the brilliant light again. The finality of the situation struck the girl as she stood there. Once she stepped through... She may not even have memories of what happened to her here. And she would never be able to come back. The Chronicler's voice, tone holding a warning, drew her thoughts away.

"There is a chance that, in trying to put you back, your body and soul will be irreversibly destroyed." The wise dragon ignored her terrified look. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? If you do not..." His eyes scanned over her body, the bandage that had, once again, been dirtied with blood. "I will do all I can to heal you, but I cannot promise that you won't succumb to your injuries. To put it bluntly, there is little chance of your survival."

Here it was. That decision again. The decision she made over and over, always the same choice... And yet, every time, it gave her pause. Could she really stay? Even accepting death just so that she could stay in this world?

Her eyes wandered over to Ignitus. He'd been silent for a long time as he watched this unfold, but now he stared at her, thinking. He could not wish that she'd stay, for that surely spelled her death, but... "You'll always have a place with the Guardians," he said firmly.

That was all he could offer. It was up to her now. Go and live, or stay and die.

She looked at the portal, leading back into that life she had hated. She looked at her bandage, stained with blood, knowing she would bleed out if she chose to stay. She thought about Tyren, and the Guardians, and her friends she had left behind.

But then, she knew, if she chose to stay, that it would be in the White Isle where she drew her last breath. So that didn't really matter. It wasn't about those things anymore, not right now. It was Lily, and maybe a shot at living... or it was certain death.

Maybe, in another world, she would have chosen to stay even knowing what would happen. But not this time.

"No," she said, turning squarely towards the light. "I'm ready." She faltered for a moment, but straightened, nodding decisively. "I came this far... So I have to at least try."

"Then..." The Chronicler gestured towards the portal. "Whenever you are ready." When she hesitated and looked as if she might take it back, the dragon said urgently, "You don't have much time."

And he was right; adrenaline had carried her this far and kept her mind clear and body steady, but it was fading, and that heaviness would return quickly. At any time, she might fall unconscious and never wake up.

So she reached out and took the Chronicler's extended paw, stepping up the small stairs leading to the pedestal. But at the last moment, just as the glow touched her skin, she froze. The girl turned and dashed back down the stairs, and before Ignitus knew what had happened to him, a black blur was hugging him. Because Ignitus had been the first person to truly show her kindness, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to at least say goodbye.

"I won't forget!" she cried, ignoring her tears. Because even when she was leaving everything behind, she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't. "I won't."

Gently, he put a scaly red arm around her. This was goodbye, then. She didn't want to let go, because it meant that she was leaving for good, but she knew she had to. So, as soon as she could gather the will, the girl stepped back and turned away, facing this light that would lead her home.

This is it, she thought. And then she took a deep breath and stepped onto the portal.

Nothing changed at first. She could see Ignitus and the Chronicler watching her, though they were mere blobs through this luminescent fog, and she didn't feel any different. Maybe it wasn't working after all. Maybe she'd get to stay.

She looked at her hands, the blinding light making it hard to see, then down at the translucent floor that the white light was streaming out of. Deep in the depths, she saw that image she couldn't identify before, and realized it was a memory.

From the outside, the beams were intensifying, and it looked like she had started to glow from within. Like her body was disintegrating, becoming one with the magic buzzing around her.

I'm flying, she thought, and she wasn't wrong. Looking down, her feet had started to lift from the ground, inch by inch, until she was hovering above the two awestruck dragons like an angel. She was fading now, flickering between worlds, stuck on the bridge and trying to decide where to cross.

She couldn't see them anymore, or the room she had once been in. Nothing but light all around her, colours swirling and flashing in a beautiful world. She was flying in the impossible sky.

Ignitus realized then, staring up at the human turning to light, that he never even knew her name. He hadn't a chance to ask, with the tizzy in the Temple her arrival had brought, and no one had ever thought of it. She had been the human, the Guardians' charge, the child, the girl, young one. Her name hadn't mattered.

But suddenly, right now, it was the most important thing in the world. Stepping forward, Ignitus yelled up into the light, "What is your name?"

For a moment, it seemed like she hadn't heard him. And the next, she was gone. The portal's intense shine rather suddenly faded, leaving only the dark ambient lighting. Her light was gone from the world. It would never come back.

But somehow, across the bridge that had snapped and plummeted into the darkness, across the void between worlds, her voice reached them. It echoed in the halls of this temple, through the caves, resounding throughout the White Isle. Leviathans heard it and cried out. The winds and the ocean carried it on.

My name is Ever.

I am 16 years old and normal in every way.

But none of that really matters, does it? Because you gave me your own name. You all did. I was myself, and everything that comes with that. But I was also what you needed me to be... right?

You see, I could have been anyone, and it wouldn't have made a difference. I could have been a boy. I could have been nineteen. But I'd still be just a human. I am just a girl, and there is nothing special about me at all.

I can cross the barriers. I can shatter them. I can survive in two worlds. But anyone could have done that, don't you think? I was an ordinary person thrown into a strange situation, that's all. And I don't think anyone who had been in my place would have done a thing different.

Still... I had my own personality, my own dreams, my own fears. Maybe that counts for something. But what will I be remembered for? Won't they think of me as "the human"? Will I really be remembered for who I was? Will I be remembered at all? Well... I guess that's up to you, isn't it?

I'm no hero. I never was. I'm not special in any way. After all, I never even had a name.  I will fade, my name forgotten, like all the other humans that came before me.  Life will continue.  And this world will go on without me.

I know I'm not important. I know I don't matter. I know, if anyone else had taken my place, it wouldn't have made a single difference. But I don't want to be forgotten. I was here, and I was real, and I was me. Don't forget that.

Think of who I was, too, not just the things that happened to me. Remember my name. Remember my story.

I am the human. I am Fighter. I am Ever.

I am immortal.

Chapter Text

Stuck in a loop, crashing dizzily through the void. Light, dark, light, dark, over and over. The same bloody dream stained her life, pulling her in and out of nightmares. She watched herself spin out of control, watched the red seeping through, watched the fire that, starving, devoured her like a hungry demon.

But once wasn't enough. Because it happened again. And again. An endless, inescapable hell she had put herself in. She watched herself die time after time, until there was nothing else. Nothing but this.

That was all, right? Her father's horrifying, monstrous face. Lily's screams of terror. The car speeding out of control, that terrible sinking in her stomach. Her motionless body, until, the sudden sweet release of death. And then back to the dark house again.

She was dead, and in Hell. Where she had come from, and why she had chosen to return... What did it matter?

But... there was more. She remembered that, if nothing else. There was more than just watching herself die for all eternity. She'd come back here, not for this torture, but for another reason.

A little girl, with hair as bright gold as the sand on the beach, reaching out for her. A boy with a smile that, despite everything, still shone brighter than the sun. A mentor who stood, his weary eyes on the sky, lighter somehow. And more, lined up before her, watching. She called their names, but their faces were impossibly blank.

The last time... She had said no, she'd said that she wouldn't die, not like that. And the world listened, but it bent the universe and split time to take her somewhere where she had a chance to live again.

Still, she'd come back. After everything, she was here again. There had to be a reason.

Yes, she realized, yes. She'd willingly left her home, but not for nothing. Because now, with the knowledge her long journey had provided, she knew how to fix it.

The memories filled her with a new energy and the raw will to live, that violent spark that can give weaklings the ability to lift cars and cowards the courage to attack... Or, perhaps, break a mundane, average, otherwise insignificant girl out of the void. Wispy echoes of her friends' voices reminded her why she was here, and why she had returned to this place.

You... were different.

Farewell, Fighter Girl.

Whether any of us like it or not, you're one of us now.

There were other children. There were five.

Don't say anything.

You always have a choice.

Just find more things to love.

I hope, wherever you go, you find your peace.

I'll miss you.

But you had a light inside you. A light of hope that the creatures of this world have lost.

They swirled around her head, their voices singing in tune. Were they calling out for her? She reached out to them, drawing strength from their hearts.

Eventually, she thought, eventually, we all run out of time.

Ignitus, Volteer, Terrador, Cyril. Auren, Tyren, Cedric, Serena, Strider, Addison. Even Tarrok. They'd all left behind a little piece of their stories in her. Now, it was time to use them. And that light, that hope Ignitus had told her about, the flames that her friends had stoked inside her... That was how she was going to break out.

I won't forget you! she screamed into the void. And maybe, just maybe, they heard.

But it wasn't just them. It wasn't just that world that drove her on. Before her, silhouetted on the black, stood her sister. Her whispered promises returned to her. She'd sworn to keep her safe, and that innocent child had believed her. And now, here she was, just out of her grasp. If she gave up now, if she didn't destroy the loop, that promise would be for nothing.

It happened again, cycling back to the beginning of that bloody night. Lily's petrified face, the dirty car, the pain in her ribs. And the screaming as he approached that swerve, as he missed and fell into the dark. But she wasn't going to watch herself burn in fire until the end of eternity.

This time, she knew how to change it.

And as her life swerved out of control and everything went black, before the pain could come, before the fires of endless reset...

The girl refused to die.

Don't turn around.

Why, she didn't know. She didn't know anything anymore; when she'd woken up, she was walking. All around her, the oppressive trees pressed closer, their leaves blotting out the stars above. She was nothing but a nameless girl walking through the forest. So she just kept taking one step after another.

Don't turn around.

There was... someone behind her. A presence hovering over her shoulder, pushing her gently forwards. Guiding her. She wanted to look at them, but if she turned... What if she found that she was alone?

So she didn't, at least not yet. She walked. The forest was unchanging, absolute, infinite. But she didn't wonder if she would escape; she already knew that there was a destination. She wasn't sure how, and she wasn't sure what it was... But she was certain.

It was as quiet as the grave, and she paused for a moment to look around. The trees about her were gnarled and old, their branches stabbing the inky sky. Weeds and bushes grew haphazardly about, though they didn't dare touch her dirt path. Shadows loomed, shifting, while judging eyes watched silently. Not quite scary, but unsettling, disconcerting, sending prickling feelings up her backside.

No, this wasn't right. There was somewhere... better. She had to believe that, so she pressed on.

And maybe she was right. Because around her, the impenetrable night was lightening; gentle glows emanated from behind the trees and beneath bushes. Before her, a light like a beacon broke through the fog, calling her towards the edge.

Though she wasn't sure how, she realized where she was then: the in-between. The bridge connecting heaven and hell, between two worlds apart. This was the end. And one step could be the difference between going forward or falling back into darkness.

Maybe it's not about getting out, she thought, entranced by the dancing golden glow as her steps carried her onwards. Maybe it's about the journey through it.

The presence behind her pushed more insistently as she neared the end of the dark forest and approached the next world. But she hesitated. Because she knew, somehow, that if she took another step, she would leave this forest forever. A part of her wanted to turn, to walk into the woods and cross the bridge again.

So she looked back. But there was no one behind her, and the presence had disappeared as quietly as it had come. It was up to her now.

Behind her, the forest stretched on forever, darker and darker, until it hit the wall of black. The road to hell. This was not heaven, but she knew that there was no gilded highway leading to the place she truly wanted to go. The bridge had long collapsed. If she went back there, she would not find what she was looking for–only the loop again. And her strength was gone now, her friends' memories fading. She wouldn't break free again.

Though she was afraid of what would happen to her when she stepped into this light, she knew that she couldn't make any other choice. Not now. Not after everything she had been through.

So she turned and, without hesitation, stepped into the light.

I escaped, she thought as she faded into air, exploding like a star and leaving naught but particles behind. I'm gone.

It was the light flickering at the edge of her closed eyes that pulled her from brief unconsciousness, back into grim reality. She didn't open them, not yet. Gravity was tugging at her, and her whole body ached in the strange position it was in–her back resting on the ground, lower half being held up by some binding–but she just wanted to go back to sleep.

She groaned, trying to block out the light, but her arms were too heavy to move. It danced teasingly, tendrils grabbing at her and pulling her slow mind away from the thought of rest. The girl's survival instincts kicked in, telling her that this was not right, and that was enough to win the struggle against her exhaustion.

The first thing Ever Riley saw when she opened her eyes was the body of her father, or rather, what was left of it. One bloody arm jut out of the front of the car, which was now no more than scraps of metal and cracked plastic. It caved inwards like a giant had taken a bloody sledgehammer to it.

Ever stared at that arm, confused and terrified; her memories were blurry and she had no idea where she was. What had once been the ceiling was now the floor, so she was in a rather awkward position. Not helping. She managed to lift her tired arms and undo her seatbelt, releasing her legs.

For a minute, she lay there on her back, trying to figure out what to do. She was in a car–a car crash. Okay. Shit. She looked over her body; besides a few bruises and cuts, she was uninjured. A bit hazy, but it couldn't be more than a mild concussion. Confused, but she was alright. Still, she had to get out.

Ever scanned her memories, trying to find some clarity. All she could see was Lily's screaming, bruised face. The older girl had thrown herself at Dad in a rage. Next thing she knew, she was on the ground in the corner. Her ribs still ached where he'd kicked her.

And then... He had...

Dad–right–Dad wasn't moving. Her mind went over the steps. Check on him. Drag herself out. Get away from the car. Act first, think later.

Rolling onto her stomach, the girl crawled forward, avoiding the shards of glass scattered over the ground. "Dad...?" She pulled herself into the mangled front and looked over, but recoiled seeing his blank stare, the blood trickling out of his open mouth. His chest was still, blood criss-crossing his face where tiny shards of glass had cut him. He was dead.

The girl's wide eyes fell towards the hood of the car. Though she couldn't see the flames, their flickering lights lit up the night. The heat was right above her, and the crackle came from all sides, front and back. Not good. She had to get out of here before something blew up.

Though the ceiling was low, her path blocked by seats sticking out of the ceiling and jagged, mean shards of glass, she managed to drag herself through a shattered window and into the thin snow without sustaining any injuries.

A pain stabbed through her stomach and her vision suddenly clouded over. Gasping, the girl looked down, expecting to see a gaping cut in her stomach where the ragged window glass had cut her. But there was nothing. With the false wound still throbbing, Ever pulled herself forward, away from that ruined car. She couldn't find the strength to stand, so she dragged herself up the hill towards the road.

Run. She thought she was going insane when she heard a steady male voice behind her. In her mind, taking over her vision, she saw the encroaching forest, saw the eyes piercing the dark. ...Not going to make it.

Blood, and pain, her heart pounding, the bite of cold metal in her stomach, and...

…IT DOESN'T HURT!

Clutching her head and wincing from the roar of an animal, Ever climbed dizzily to her feet and scrambled up the last bit of the hill. Panicked, she whirled around, expecting to be set on by some monster. But there was nothing behind her except the burning wreckage and, beyond, the dark forest.

The girl reached up to touch her right cheek. Smooth, perfect, scarless. She looked all over her body, her skin pure except for old bruises and a few places she'd been nicked by glass. Thick, humid air, but air flooded her lungs every time she drew a breath. She was alive. She had made it out of the crash all but unscathed. It was a miracle she hadn't slept until the fire consumed the vehicle, trapping her inside. It was a miracle she hadn't been disabled or even killed.

But... Snapping back into reality, the girl looked back at the burning car, taking a few steps back.

Hadn't Dad been smoking...?

The explosion sent her reeling, a wave of heat that nearly scorched her skin, and she'd instinctively dropped to the ground before she knew what had happened. Metal flew through the air, landing in the snow and skidding over the road. The piercing screeches assaulted her ears as she lay prone covering her head.

Luckily, Ever was unharmed, but she was shaking when she stood again. She had to get help... To call somebody... But she could do nothing but watch the burning remnants of her old life. Far in the distance, sirens screamed. Maybe they were coming for her.

So she waited, staring down the hill at the wreckage that lay below, the fire that crawled towards the forest but sputtered out in the snow. It was almost beautiful. Ever was still a bit in shock, and she felt nothing knowing that these flames had killed her father. No relief. No regret. Not even hope for the future, with him now dead. Just a blank, quiet nothingness inside her head.

The wailing sirens, growing steadily closer, pulled the girl out of her hollow mind. She felt uneasy in this place, quiet but for the crackling fire. The highway she sat on was empty and silent–at this time of night, her small town would be sleeping–and there was nothing in sight but a soft blanket of snow and the forest looming on either side of the road.

As she gazed around restlessly, a silver glint on white caught her eye. For a moment she passed it off as a piece of debris from the explosion, but she realized that it was... something else. Too pretty and shiny to be a piece of an old truck. Ever rose to examine it.

It was a sword. She tilted her head, picking it up. Its weight sat comfortably in her hand, the intricate black hilt, though worn, fitting perfectly into her fingers. On the blade, an inscription was written in alien letters that for a moment almost seemed readable.

Never give up without a fight. Ever blinked, squinting down. The words had come to her naturally, as easily as if she'd said them a million times, but... How could she know that?

Was it her father's? But no... it wasn't charred or bent or broken. It hadn't flown out of the car. It had just been laying here, as if waiting to be found. It wasn't a style she recognized, either... Like it was made in another world.

Blue, red, blue, red. The girl looked up as garish lights bathed over her. She turned, seeing the sleek black of a police car and a tall red firefighter truck pulling in, and stepped out of the way as people scrambled out of the vehicles.

The sirens turned off with a click, so the only sound was radio chatter from the lone police car and firefighters setting to work on the burning car. For a while nobody seemed to notice the small teenager in pajamas, clutching a sword of all things to her chest, standing at the edge of the ditch.

Once the flames were nearly put out, the car door opened and a policeman stepped out, looking sleepy. He surveyed the wreckage for a moment, whistled, then turned to Ever. "That's quite the mess, kid," he said in the casual half-drawl typical of this area. "Can I get your name and age?"

Her hard gaze didn't leave the sputtering flames. Cops, teachers, and parents... They were all the same. "Ever Riley, six–uh, fifteen." She barely noticed her stumble.

"And would you happen to have your parents' numbers?"

Ever raised a finger, pointing to the crash. Her expression was like a bored challenge, though on the inside she was still terrified. "Dad was driving."

Off-put by the child's stoic expression, the man stared at the burning heap of metal that had once been an automobile. Shaking his head, he headed back to the car. "We got a 10-52 at Franklin St., one incapacitated male, requesting assistance..."

When he came back a few minutes later, the man somehow looked even more weary. Not just a car crash, but a dead guy and his kid... He'd be doing paperwork for weeks! "Wanna tell me what happened tonight, Ms. Riley?"

He brushed a few fingers through his black hair, allowing his mind to wander. This looked like a typical drunk driver, but there'd be at least some whispers of homicide. The investigation was going to send the whole damn station into a tizzy. The only people who died in this town were old folks and the occasional toddler whose stupid parents let them swim into the rip tide.

"Dad dragged me into the car." Ever looked away. "He was too busy yelling at me to look where he was going, so he swerved off into the ditch. And he was smoking, so that must have lit the explosion. That's all."

The frankness of her statements startled the man, though he was growing used to this girl's strange attitude. He thought he'd heard about a kid like this from his own children–the weird, quiet girl at school, blank and emotionless. They told her how the other kids picked on her mercilessly. Was this that same girl? "Why did he do that?"

"I grabbed him because he was hitting my sister, and he..." For the first time that night, a bit of emotion sprung into Ever's eyes. She turned to the man, nearly grabbing him outright before she thought better of it. "Lily, she's still at home! We've gotta go get her, she–"

"Hey, hey, calm down." The man placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. As odd as this teenager was, he still had only good intentions. "We'll get your sister as soon as we're done here. Now, do you have any relatives you can stay with tonight? Your ma?"

The blank look returned. "No. I don't know where Mom is. There's no one."

Sighing, the policeman turned away. "Alright," he muttered to himself, "Let's get CPS out here." He walked back to his car, but turned to the girl who still stood looking out towards the forest. The ruins were now just a smoldering heap, and the firefighters were hunched over the driver side door.

"I'm gonna send another officer out to get your sister if you'll give me the address." His voice called her attention away before they could drag out her father's blackened corpse. "CPS is going to have to come all the way from Atlanta, so we'll have a long wait." He opened the back door of the car. "Get in, I have the heater on."

It was only then that she realized her fingers were numb and her whole body shivering. She was wearing only a beige nightshirt and and thin pants. Her bare feet smarted in the snow. As little as she trusted authority, a warm place seemed nice. So she headed for the car.

At the last moment, though, the policeman stopped her. "Is that..." He scrunched up his face. "...A sword?"

She pulled it towards her chest, defensive though she wasn't sure why. "It's mine."

The man shrugged, looking exasperated. "You kids and your fantasy toys..." He shook his head. "Just don't go wavin' that thing around. Come on in."

So into the back of the warm police car she went, the sword never leaving her lap. The sound of radio chatter soothed her somehow, as did the policeman's surprisingly calm, deep voice. She wanted to listen to what he was saying on the radio, and she wanted to remain alert. But before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep with her face pressed against the frosty glass.

When she woke up an hour later, all was quiet. She stared at the clock above the dashboard, squinting with sleepy eyes. 12:07. How long had it been since Dad had dragged her into the snow?

She shivered, but went still. Dad was dead, now. That would never happen again.

Ever looked up to the front. The radio had been put nearly on mute, and the policeman's face was lit by the glow of a phone screen. It almost made her smile, seeing him poking at some game like any other kid. Well... He wasn't so scary.

Her gaze turned out the window. The wreck was now not even smoldering, just a heap of metal, and the firefighters were gone. From the sky, a new snow filtered down, covering up the ugly tracks where her scramble up the hill had marred the snow.

Time passed.

12:15. Ever ran out of things to look at. She considered striking up conversation with the officer, but the idea of talking to anyone other than Lily seemed strange.

12:20. Ever wished she had her own smartphone. Even her bulky, 2005-era MP3 player–not iPod, MP3–sat in her room at home.

12:30. Why was CPS so damn slow?

At 12:45, the girl was staring in disinterest out the window to the hazy sky, counting what few stars she could find, when she heard the sound of a car engine approaching. CPS, then? She sighed. Ever had to admit, the prospect of getting separated from her sister had been scary enough to stop her from calling. As did what Dad would do to her if the agent visited and did nothing. But it's not like she had a choice anymore.

The car door slammed behind her and footsteps crunched in the snow. Ever stared out the window as two people walked into sight: a tall policewoman, and, with her pale hand slipped into the woman's tanned one...

Ever stared with her hands pressed against the glass; she almost didn't recognize her. Golden hair... Arms scratched from berry bushes, a recent bruise on her face, brown eyes of the sweetest colour...

"Lily!"

Her scream startled the officer, who dropped his phone down the side of the console. "Ah, dammit..."

Ever didn't wait. She jetted out of the car, not even bothering to close the door, and nearly tackled the little girl. They skidded in the snow until Ever was on her knees. Lily gave a little yelp of surprise, but soon, she melted into her big sister's arms.

"Lily... I missed you..." Why, Ever couldn't say. They had been together just an hour or two ago. But somehow, it felt like she hadn't set eyes on the child in months. Years, even.

"Evy, you're squishing!" Lily's voice was muffled by her older sister's shirt.

Sniffling, Ever pulled away. On her knees, the small child barely stood as tall as her. She didn't realize she was crying until the sweet girl reached up and wiped her tears away. "Don't cry, Evy."

The girl smiled and swiped her tears away. "I'm just crying because I'm happy to see you, sis."

"Alright, alright," the policeman grumbled as he opened his door. "Get in, the both of you, before you catch your death of cold. You're letting all the hot air out."

When the man looked back a few minutes later, he could barely even tell the girls apart. The little one was pressed into Ever, her hair nearly blending into her shirt, and their arms were such an intertwined mess that he couldn't see the source of them.

When she heard the car pull up some time later, Ever was whispering to Lily, "Dad is gone now. We'll never have to see him again. I promise, I'll keep us together. I'll keep us safe." The stoic child stared straight ahead, only reacting to look back when the headlight flooded the back of the car.

The cop glanced back. "That would be CPS. They'll make sure you have a warm place to stay tonight." He stretched. "Stay here. I'll talk to them first."

The two siblings stared with wide eyes out the smudged window as the policeman and a strange woman with a blond ponytail chatted. They couldn't hear the words, just indistinct mumbling. Every once in a while, the woman would glance over and offer a small smile to the terrified faces peeking through the glass. Neither girl responded.

"I'm scared, Ever," Lily mumbled, nuzzling into her sister's chest.

The older girl rubbed the child's shoulder, still looking in distrust out the window. "Me too."

Eventually, the woman gave a final nod and the two adults broke up, but she headed right for the door. Giving a little tap on the window, she opened it and stepped back. Her smile was sincere, not just pasted on, but neither of the children looked up with anything but wariness.

"My name is Zoey," she said tenderly. "What's your names?"

Lily looked up, her head still resting in her sister's neck, and Ever realized that, unlike the little girl, she had no one to hide behind. "Ever."

"Lily." The girl's small voice was almost imperceptible.

"Ever, Lily," Zoey slowly held out a hand, "I'm going to take you somewhere safe tonight. Will you come with me, please?"

Ever hesitated, staring at that hand. As much as she wanted to just go home and sleep, even if it meant waking up to another day of drudgery and fear, she knew that resisting wasn't going to get her anywhere. Dad was dead. Nothing would bring him back, and she'd trade places with him before she willed that bastard back to life... Just so she could return to her false "normalcy".

Kill herself? Only to put Lily back into that situation again, alone? Like it or not... This was their way out. This was their escape, dammit, and even if it meant putting themselves at the mercy of an overworked system, even if it meant being separated, they would never have to go back there. This was what she had fought for, though she didn't even know it.

So she took the woman's hand and pulled herself out of the car. Lily, seeing her reclusive sister place her trust in this lady, followed suit blindly. She was just a small child, and her sister was all she had.

Ever stared out down the hill as the CPS lady led them towards the small blue van that would lead them towards their new life. She shivered, the new cold piercing her thin pajamas. She could have been down there, with Dad... Unmoving, burning. A minute more of unconsciousness, and she'd have been caught in the explosion. The girl almost saw her own blackened corpse sticking out of the rubble.

"Could either of you tell me a little bit about what happened tonight?" The woman's voice pulled Ever out of her morbid thoughts, and the girl stared blankly, realizing that she held a clipboard. Right. They knew more about interrogating children than the cops would. Behind her, the police car sped away.

Though the kind lady didn't deserve it, her words were met with muted ire. "I woke up when I heard Lily screaming. I found Dad on top of her, beating–" Stopping, the girl brushed Lily's bangs out of her face and pushed her forward. The small girl flinched, her browned skin and split lip on full display.

"Dad! Stop! Stop it!" He can't do this, only to me, not to Lily, you can't–

When Ever spoke again, she could barely contain her rage, remembering the events of just a few hours earlier–though they felt so long ago! She was gripping the sword, still clasped in her hands, like a weapon she was trained to use. "I threw myself at him to get him off, and he–he tossed me into the corner and started kicking me."

She flinched. Pain. Curled up in the corner. The boots left marks, stains, pure suffering curling down into her core.

"...He threw me into the car..."

Grabbed her by the hair. "I'll teach you a lesson, you fucking bitch!" Smells like alcohol. Drunk. Into the car, his screaming louder than the screech of tires, than the world zooming by.

"...And he wasn't looking when he hit the curve."

The teenager looked up at the woman with defiance and pain in her eyes. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The woman could barely keep the shock off her face. A bit of a greenie she was, and she'd not yet had a chance to experience the true horrors parents can and too often do inflict on their children. "And... Was this the only time...?"

Ever nearly laughed, howled in insanity. "Every day–" she choked. She pulled up her sleeves. Scars. Bruises. Cigarette burns. He didn't care where he left them; it was up to her to keep them secret. What she couldn't show her was the screaming, the tirades, the smell of his putrid drunk breath, the terror she felt as he got in her face.

The scars beneath. Similar to those that had driven her boyfriend to run, but she hadn't been brave enough. "It was like this every day. The only difference is that he managed to kill himself this time."

What's gotten into me? Ever thought, staring at Zoey's barely-contained disgust. She had taken a vow of silence, and though teachers occasionally prodded, nurses wondered why she refused to go to them, peers rarely, rarely, asked if she was okay, the girl met them all with tight, sealed lips. Because every time she told, she found only ridicule, only oppressive children, condescending adults.

But now, her past lay spilled on the ground before her. She knew it was stupid–here was a motive they could use to pin this on her as a murder, a teenager who killed her father to keep her sister safe–but she didn't care. The silence was killing her, and she needed to talk.

Was it bravery? Strength? Raw, unfiltered rage? All she knew was that she was not the girl who had entered the truck two hours ago. Something had changed.

By now, Zoey was looking a bit queasy. "Well," she said weakly, "Well, you'll–you won't have to go back there anymore, okay? We're going to find you a safe place to stay, and we'll do our best to keep you two together." Fumbling, she reached into her pocket and found the car keys, unlocking the door and scurrying over to the driver's side.

Seeing the girls' reluctance to move, the woman sighed and nodded. "Bless your little hearts... Take your time if you need it. But hurry." She managed a faint smile. "I can't have two children freezing to death on my watch!"

The door slammed, and Lily and Ever were alone.

The sisters stood there for a bit, looking up at the sky, at the snow that grew ever heavier. The flakes smarted their skin, and soon, the smaller of the girls began to shiver even with her sibling's arm over her. Her lacy, faded pink top was no match for this weather, even in the warm winters of the South.

So the little girl let go of her sister's hand and went to go for the car, to move on from this place forever. Ever was prepared to follow her. She'd just needed a moment; there was nothing left for her in this town. She'd be happy to see it disappear on the road behind her.

As she stepped forward, a rustle in her pocket distracted her. Blinking, the teenager stopped and reached in. She pulled out a piece of yellow paper–strange material, thick and scratchy–folded into a tight square.

Slowly, careful not to tear the parchment, Ever opened it.

The girl tilted her head, staring down in consternation at the paper. For a moment, she felt something like a stab of emotion go through her... But it was gone now. She traced her finger over the strange image, thumbing the worn edges of this sketch.

It was a drawing. Which was strange in and of itself; the teenager preferred books and stories to art, and Lily certainly couldn't draw anything of this refined caliber. So where had it come from? That aside, she got such a weird feeling while she looked at it, something she couldn't describe.

It was just a picture of six anthropomorphic creatures. Like something you'd find in a video game, or on the internet. There was a cat clutching a book to her chest. A mole-like creature who lay grinning on the ground. A dragon, frowning, laying at the fringe of the group with a piece of paper. In the center of them, two more dragons, one big and one small–siblings, she thought–beamed with all their might.

And... at the edge, some unidentified creature clad in thick layers of robes, pressing forward uncertainly, as if they wanted to join the group but couldn't muster the courage.

Come to think of it, these characters' designs reminded her a bit of that Spyro game she'd played a few years ago. But... It hadn't had these characters. Though she'd loved the lore, her memories were foggy. That much, however, she remembered. There were no kids like this in TLOS.

Had her boyfriend left this for her? Had she, somehow, forgotten? Had he slipped it into her pocket without her noticing? Remembering his departure left a surge of panic in her heart–if he really did come back for her a few years from now, he'd find an empty house. How would she find him?

"Is that you?"

Ever followed Lily's small finger, pointing at the heavily-clad creature on the left. She had walked back to investigate what her sister was so interested in all of a sudden. "Why would it be me?" Ever asked naively, tracing the creature's face with her fingers. Only their eyes were visible.

"It looks like it's you." Shrugging, the child turned and walked back to the car, heaving the door open with all her weight.

Ever stared at the picture a moment longer. What is this feeling? she thought, clutching the sketch tightly. Why do I feel like I'm...

Slowly, feeling light, the girl raised her head. She stood again between two realities, with one last choice to make. Her sister was before her at the open door, looking back with a questioning expression. Waiting for her.

A small smile curled up her lips, and Ever gently slipped the sketch into her pocket. Lily stared blankly, and though her expression almost always remained impassive and neutral, for a moment it seemed like she smiled too.

The past was gone. She was here, and this was now. In time, perhaps she would be able to confront the truths that danced just out of her vision, find clarity in the events that had led her to where she stood now. But for now, Ever Riley looked only ahead. Sword clutched in hand, she approached the future with all the determination she could muster.

Things are looking up, the teenager thought resolutely as she pushed her sister into the warmth of the car.

From the beginning, she'd been pushed around. A girl trapped in a world out of her control. She was not a hero. She was just a struggling protagonist at the mercy of fate, trying to write herself a happy ending... And at every turn, realizing that she was not the scribe of her own adventure.

Every pain her father had inflicted on her. Every snide word directed at her. Every time the universe exploded around her. Every death, every tear, every drop of blood. They had all led her unwittingly back to this place. For as much as she had maintained the illusion of choice, it had always flickered just out of her grasp.

She was just a human, just a child at the mercy of two unkind worlds.

But now, all the shackles that kept her chained were falling away. She was free to do what she wished. Before her, a glorious splendor of choice glittered. She could live peacefully with her sister. She could go where she wanted, pursue what few scraps of dreams she'd ever had. She'd never return to a terrifying dark house again. She would never cower in fear and know her own powerlessness.

And she might have to struggle, to fight tooth and nail and heartbreak to get there, but she would get there.

Before Ever could step into the dark car, she paused for a moment, her gaze drifting back to the forest. Barely, just barely, she heard its distant song, their varied presences calling her across a void she couldn't understand. Her soul sang back to them. A promise. And a goodbye.

This is my story now, the girl thought. Giving the forest one long, last look, she got into the car and shut the door.

And it was up to her to write it.