The sun cut through the autumn leaves, illuminating the graveyard located thereunder. Quiet, and tranquil, it was one of many small graveyards constructed after the battle of Westedge. An eternal memento to those who perished, the names of those poor souls forever reminding future generations of the horrors and sacrifices which took place on that fateful day.

But one lone grave stood out from all the others. Blue flowers had grown around the stone, unlike the others laying by naked grass. The stone itself had been decorated with the crest of Ravens Hill, a luxury none of the others could lay claim to. But far more pressing was the strange visitor that visited this grave daily. Every day, he came here to lament the cruel fate of the one resting underneath, to punish himself for his sins; it was the red dragon responsible for it all.

Victor stroked his friend’s name with the back of a talon, unable to keep his eyes open for long. As the blue welled up, the red dragon squeezed them shut. Four months after the nightmare, no matter how hard he tried to press on, the pain lingered. Every day those memories returned, the echoes of a voice haunted the air, guiding him to this quiet cemetery. All for the sake of his friend.

Eric…

A flow streamed forth onto the leaves cluttering the grave. Clutching his face, Victor sank down onto the cold stone, his whimpers reverberating through the wooded valley. He should never have ventured away from home. His mother and sister would still be alive, as would his friend. All the miseries he had inflicted upon the world had come looking for him, the betrayer of those he loved.

“Victor? Are you there?”

A voice whispered in the wind. Victor didn’t so much as raise his head in response. Even if it was an omen of impending doom, it mattered little. Death would be a blessing at this point. Thus, he kept sobbing by the grave with his tail in between his legs, even as footsteps drew near, and the smell of a friend crept up his nostrils.

“Vic? Vic! Are you okay?”

With a sniff, Victor peeked through the space between his talons. William stood over him, stroking the joint of his wing, his blond hair waving in the breeze. He had a sunken look on his face -- the last place on Terris he wanted to visit was where his mentor had been buried.

“How, how did you know I was here?” asked Victor, in as soft of a tone as he could. His voice had taken on a light, but noticeable rumble. It sent chills down his spine whenever he spoke.The human within was fading away, and there was nothing Victor could do about it.

“Because you always come here. Every day, even when it’s raining outside,” William said, scratching the dragon behind the ears. “But why do you keep coming here? You’re only hurting yourself with his.”

Victor breathed in deep. “I feel obligated to. After what I’ve done to him. He did so much for me, and I... p-paid back the favor... by...” Victor couldn’t hold it back any more, and buried his monstrous snout back under his claws.

“Victor, don’t do this to yourself…”

But William’s plea fell on deaf ears. It had been betrayal of the highest magnitude, joining the very cult they had promised to fight against, then killing in their name. Even though he’d been forced to undergo the transformation, even if his lone kill was in self defense, it didn’t matter. Victor’s name bore guilt, and no sentence besides death would clear it.

* * *

After enduring the worst of the void, Victor’s spirit healed a little. William grabbed a leaf from the ground, and dried the dragon’s snout with it.

“Your father wants to see you, Vic. Quick, wouldn’t want him to get worried sick about you again, right?”

“For what, though? Why does he always need me?” said Victor, clearing his nostrils with a sniff.

William shrugged. “I don’t know. The one time I tried to ask him, he yelled that it wasn’t any of my business. I don’t want to end up on his bad side, so I’m never asking again. We’d better go now, he said it was important.”

“Okay.” Victor nodded, and pushed himself off the ground, groaning all the while. Time holds no mercy upon the unfortunate; alas, they had no option but to look towards the rising sun.

The two left the graveyard, and strolled through the woods and valleys back to Westedge. The local farmers they passed acknowledged them with a simple ‘good afternoon’, followed by a ‘huh’ as William alone paid back the favor. Victor hung his head low, occasionally raising a claw to douse an itch by the lowest of his horns. His tail cut a dragmark through the ground’s leafy coat, one which wouldn’t end until the leaves did.

Westedge’s gates arose past the trees, as did the noise of the populace fill the air. It was a typical afternoon; people traversing the countryside, the flapping of dragons overhead, and a tepid cold setting in. William’s skin bubbled, even with the thick brown coat he wore. Victor felt little of it however, for reasons unknown. Part of him wished the roles were reversed. Normal people needed a coat around this time, after all.

The guards let them through the gates with no hassle. Divinity alone knew what golden-clad punishment awaited those who held ill-will towards the son of Lord Lothar, and these guards weren’t in the mood to find out. “Welcome, Lothar’s son!” they said, a hand over their heart.

“I still don’t get why they treat you like that,” said William as they passed the guards.

Victor sighed. “It’s because of my father. You know how it is with my father.”

“Oh,” said William, before dropping the matter entirely.

They made their way to the central market, passing numerous monochrome timber-framed buildings on their way there. The streets were busy for Westedge’s standards: local peasants were at their stalls selling their produce, alongside craftsmen and merchants from far away lands. None of their wares were of much value, though. Nothing truly luxurious dwelled amidst the produce and household items.

“Ack!”

Before Victor could so much as blink, William was on the ground.

“Will, are you-”

“Hey, watch your step! I’m trying to pray here!”

As Victor helped William off the ground, a man kneeling on the ground proceeded to yell at them. He had no shoes on, and wore thin Draconist robes despite the ill temperature. “What are you doing out here in the streets, you idiot? It’s cold outside!” yelled a frustrated William. “Aren’t there enough temples for you to pray in?”

The man’s face grew a deep frown. “First off, how dare you insult a servant of Divinity! Secondly, the temples are all full! Just look for yourself!” he said, gesturing with his hand towards the five other Draconists on the ground, all of whom were staring angrily at William. “My wife and I deserve better than to be spat on by some foolish child! Be gone with you!”

William had none of it. “Maybe don't block the streets, you idiots! I get that you care about your religion, but have some decency will you!”

Victor licked the back of his teeth. Draconist arrogance wasn’t pleasant in the slightest. Upsetting the locals wouldn’t do them any favors. Besides, he had no energy left to object, even though he would be in the right.

“Come, Will. Let’s just go away, my father wouldn’t like hearing about this one bit.”

“That’s right! Run, run away little coward! Like those imperial cowards did when Divinity’s warriors arrived!”

Although he resisted, Victor managed to pull William away from the man with a few nudges from his wing. William spent a few minutes pouting about it still, which was acceptable as far as Victor was concerned. Any minute spent complaining over little annoyances was a minute spent not being reminded of what he was, after all.

An impressive feat, especially in a city such as Westedge. No other city in the world had even a single dragon walk on its streets, let alone dozens of them. They were busy enjoying themselves, resting from their time at the frontlines, or acting as a beacon of praise for the other robed individuals kneeling on the cold streets. Even after a good four months of this being a daily sight, it still was something else to see men, women, and children of all ages flock around every dragon they so much as laid eyes upon.

I don’t understand why they are doing this. Isn’t it kind of humiliating?

Victor had been a victim of it himself, more often than he’d like. As such, whenever he spotted another group of robed worshippers crowding the streets up ahead, he’d wind up hurrying his pace, nudging William with his wing to speed up. Sure enough, a woman called to him, but he ignored it as best as he could.

* * *

After hurrying their way through the crowded streets, they found their way to their destination. Westedge’s Grand Shrine. For Draconists, it was a shrine. For the Lokahnian Home Front, it was a place to plan their business. It was less of a shrine, and more of a giant garden A thick walled off grove, well maintained by the locals, a sight for sore eyes. From a distance, one could see a giant golden dragon at the absolute center of the grove.

“Divinity almighty, hallowed be thy name, I come to beseech thine blessing again...”

The flame on his altar rose into the air. Lothar spoke on towards the ember, oblivious to Victor and William’s presence. The giant golden dragon’s prayers were to proceed without disturbance - so he had warned many times in the past.

“Umm, Vic? I think we should turn back,” said William, face flaring red.

“He asked for me, right?”

“Well, yeah, but- N-No wait, stop!”

Victor moved on, despite William’s warnings. The golden dragon’s head shot up from the crunch of a leaf, which Victor stepped on by accident. A loud rumble emerged from the giant’s throat. Victor stepped back, swallowing his saliva.

Urk, this isn’t good...

With a lash of his tail, the dragon tilted his head upwards, and sniffed the atmosphere. Loud, shivering the ears, two sniffs alone made William jump behind a bush, cowering. Victor was all alone. The dragon turned around; his amber eyes widened upon seeing the red scaled dwarf before him.

“Son! It is you!”

The next thing Victor knew was the sudden feeling of his father nuzzling him on the neck. It was times like these where being a dragon perhaps wasn't so bad. His cheeks couldn't become any redder, after all.

“My little angel, how are you today?” asked Lothar.

Victor gulped. “I’m feeling fine, honest.”

Lothar gazed sternly into Victor’s eyes. His disappointment couldn’t have been any clearer. “Son, you may say otherwise, but I know better than that. I can smell your nerves. Tell me, what ails you so? Are you still hurt over your loss?”

“N-no, I...”

“It is okay. Come.”

Lothar pressed the tip of his snout onto Victor's ear, a purred assurance of a better future whispered as soft as a giant dragon could. Victor tried to break away, but his father wouldn’t let go. Just as the specter seemed to have departed, it returned in full force.

How many days had gone on like this? Days where the knife was twisted ever deeper, where the spectre of the past kept haunting him so? Alas, there was no escape for him. His ultimate fate had hung on a thread. One small change, and Eric would still live. Mother and sister would still live. So many others would still live. And now, they were gone.

“Father… why do you keep doing this for me? I don’t deserve this, I should’ve been dealt with a long time ago...”

“Son… please, do not do this to yourself. Divinity’s judgement cannot ever change. This is who you always were meant to be. And no, you are not a coward, my angel. After all you have persevered through, still you live,” said Lothar. “You should be proud of who you are. You can be so much, if only you allow yourself to.”

Victor never understood why his father continued to put up with him, even after his continuous spells in the void. Perhaps the boat had sank from his father's own sins, forcing him down this path. Even after the failures, even after the losses, even after the constant disruptions to his goals, even after being forced to defend himself over his offspring's embarrassments, still Lothar kept up the act.

Lothar let go of the red dragon once the worst of the void had passed. “Listen to me, son. I have a task for you, and your friend. Speaking of which, can he come out of the bushes? There is nothing to fear.”

With a shudder, Victor turned his gaze towards the thicket surrounding the clearing. “Will?” he shouted. A few seconds later, a leg came out of the bushes, followed by the rest of William.

“Ah, there you are. Please, do come,” said Lothar. William obliged with nary a word. His treads were slow, and he seemed unable to not clamp down onto his lips. “There you are. How are you on this blessed day?”

“Uhm, not bad, I think...”

A rumble rolled out of Lothar’s throat. “Hmm, that is good to hear. Now then, let me explain the task at hand. As you might be aware of, our armies are currently occupied with the liberation of Frontier Harbour. A few days ago, I received news from Commander Batharr that the siege is as good as over, and it will not be long until the remaining Justitians surrender. Here, take this.”

Lothar shoved a wooden tube into Victor’s claws. It bore the old Lokahnian seal of Reval and Brynd, albeit a crude version of it.

“These are the new orders for Batharr’s armies. Please, see to it that they receive this message as soon as possible. Is that alright with you both?”

“Yes sir.” William answered the golden dragon before Victor even had the chance. Upon hearing this, Lothar’s pointy ears flicked up, as did the tip of his tail.

“That is good to hear. And you, son?”

Victor licked at his teeth, before uttering a belated answer. “Okay, father. I’ll do it.”

Lothar smiled. “May Divinity bring light upon your horizon, son. I wish you both a most pleasant journey. Frontier Harbour is but a three hour flight west from here. Farewell for now.”

“Farewell, father.”

The two waved goodbye to Lothar, before heading back to the city. Neither appeared ready to talk about it, given their slouched postures and drooped heads. It wasn’t until the two had left the groves as a whole that the talk began.

“Hey, Vic,” said William. “Are you okay? I mean, with the orders, that is.”

Victor lowered his horned head to eye level. “Not really. My father always wants me to do things. I don’t know why he does it. Besides, I find it hard to so much as wake up in the morning, let alone fly out over the mountains.”

William raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You never told me about that before.”

“About what?”

“Your troubles with waking up. Is something wrong?”

Victor shook his head. “No, no, it’s… I don’t know. I’ve been feeling really tired these past few weeks, that’s all,” he blurted out. Here’s to hoping he believes that… I wish I had the guts to tell him what I truly feel... Maybe he’d understand me, but… no. I shouldn’t think that. All that would do is shove guilt onto others, when I’m the only one who deserves to feel this way. After I… ugh...

William replied with an unenergetic shrug. “Okay then. Hey, do you want to get something to drink before we head out? My throat’s a bit dry.”

Victor nodded. “That sounds good. I could use a little water myself.”

* * *

Lothar watched on with pride as his son left the shrine. It was his first true task; no menial work, or simple requests, a full blown mission for the Home Front. He tilted his head upwards, taking his delight to its fullest. Oh, Divinity almighty, I’ve gotten him out of his spell! My little Vykroz is getting there at last, I can feel it in my bones. How I cannot wait to see him stand proud and tall, I have been waiting for far too long already!

“Hey, Lothar? Are you there?”

The golden dragon’s quiet celebration was cut short. His head flicked around to see a grey dragon approach. Her purple eyes gazed on stern, a sight all too common in the past few months.

“Yes Merahn, I am here. What is the situation?” said Lothar, a smile on his snout.

Merahn shook her head, and whipped her tail against the ground. “There is no situation, Lothar. All I want to ask is what you were doing. Are you still keeping yourself busy with coddling him, instead of fighting against the Justitians? Our religion is at stake here!”

Lothar let out a deep sigh. “Merahn, I know of no one besides you who would cut off contact with their families entirely for the cause. Do you not realise that me, and so many of the others accepted the Blessing out of a desire to protect them? Besides, I am more than capable of multitasking. The siege of Westedge is going well, with little casual-”

Out of nowhere, Merahn hissed. “Are you serious?! We should’ve taken over that damned port well over a month ago! We are dragons, damn you, we can torch those imperial fiends from above!” she yelled, setting one foot closer towards Lothar.

“Divinity almighty, Merahn, have you lost your mind? There are innocent civilians there, and you seek to terrorize them? If we were to do as you wish, what would make us above the imperial savages?”

“To the abyss with the civilians! They should’ve risen up against the tyranny long ago! I care little if it upsets them, I’ll happily kill as many imperials as I can before their very eyes. How can you not see the urgency of our situation?”

Lothar’s eyes widened. After all the regular tantrums and fits over everything from the speed of their advance, to the let-live approach towards the civilians,, to hear such vitriol coming from a trusted commander hit him hard. Merahn always had been passionate, but it had morphed into something far uglier than he believed possible for a Draconist.

“Merahn… you are crossing a terrible threshold here.”

The grey dragon spat onto the leaves. “If you say so.”

Unceremoniously, the grey dragon took wing, and flew off beyond the walls. Lothar shook his head, before returning to his altar. Divinity almighty, let her sanity come back.