Lanarot had grown tired over the course of the hours, and so was put to the side to sleep, wrapped in her tiny blanket.

Strom could hear her little beating heart, though his senses were beginning to grow dull without his Spark. It beat so quickly, as their hearts tended to do when babies were young.

Strom remembered how she looked not long ago. She was smaller, unable to walk, nor call for her family. She had grown quickly before his eyes, and though he had spent some time away from the Iyr, he had sometimes visited, laying atop the roof as he always did, drinking his wine.

‘One years old,’ the old man thought. Humans grew quickly in some ways, and slower in other ways. Human babies slept for half the day, and spent the other half awake, absorbing their world through their small eyes, perpetually confused and surprised.

Lanarot’s face was no longer her own in his eyes. He was looking to another time, a time long ago, a time which most people did not live through.

Adam gave Strom his peace, letting him reminisce. He saw another young baby, one who had been born some time after Lanarot. He was scooting around on his bottom, tugging on his mother’s trousers.

His eyes fell around towards the rest of the Iyrmen around. There was Jarot and Mulrot, but there were also other Iyrmen about. There was Tarot too, with his beautiful wife from the Kan family, Zirot. There were at least fifty people about, and they mostly remained in their own circles, rarely moving between them.

“You are Adam,” a young child said, having stomped their way to him. They were no older than five, Adam gathered.

“Yes.”

“Strong?”

“I think so.”

He looked to Jurot. “Cousin Jurot, he is strong?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” the boy said, eyeing Adam’s axe.

“Do you want to touch it.”

“Yes.”

“Sure.” Adam held out his axe, keeping the blade behind his forearm so the child wouldn’t grab it.

Soon the other children swarmed him, wanting to touch Wizard’s Axe.

“It is magical?” the boy asked, feeling the slight tingle.

“Yes.”

“You made it?”

“Yes.”

The boy gave an approving snort, nodding his head towards Adam. “Very good.”

Adam smiled. “Is it?”

“It is strong?”

“Yes. It allows me to cast my spells.”

“You know magic?” The boy then looked at his ears. “Elf.” It was an accusation and a statement.

“Yes,” Adam replied, answering both questions. “Only half.”

“Half?”

“Yes.”

“Half Elf Half Iyrman?” the boy asked.

“No. Half Elf and Half Human, I think.”

The boy frowned slightly. “You are very handsome.”

Adam looked to Jurot, unsure of what he should do. “Thank you. You are very handsome too.”

“I am not handsome,” the boy said. “I am strong.”

“Are you handsome and strong?”

“No. I am strong.”

“Okay, boss, if you say so.” Adam smiled, keeping a careful eye on the axe.

“Are you studying well?” Jurot asked.

“Yes,” the boy replied.

“Are you all studying well?” Jurot asked the rest as they touched the axe’s handle.

The children gave affirmative answers in the form of grunts, words, and nods of their heads, sometimes all at once.

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“Good. One day you will grow to gain much glory.”

The children looked at Jurot with such a look of joy, that even he was slightly taken aback. The children all dispersed, returning back to their parents to babble noisily about what Jurot had told them.

“They grow excited quickly,” Jurot said.

“Of course,” Adam replied, smiling at him. “You are their legendary cousin Jurot, the man who has slain a blue Dragon, and you’ve told them that they are going to grow to gain glory.”

“I did not know my words held so much power.”

“It’s like if the Chief said to you that you would gain glory for your family.”

“I am not the Chief.”

“And they aren’t us, great Experts who have slain a Dragon.”

Jarot chuckled. “Have you begun to understand it, Jurot? Iyrheart?”

Jurot crossed his arms, and fell into thought. “Not completely.”

“When you have your own children, you’ll understand,” Jarot assured.

“What does it mean?”

“You’ll know when you feel it in your heart. Some never do, but you, you are my grandson.”

Jurot exhaled through his nostrils, almost letting slip a smile.

Lanarot awoke some time later, missing the other Rot family members who had popped by. She looked at all the Iyrmen behind her as they left, heading back to the shared family estate.

Strom followed them, having nothing better to do. He had nothing better to do until business came to him.

Adam’s friends had been given most of the day off to explore the Iyr, but had returned some time before dinner to give their well wishes to the young Lanarot who they had to hear about constantly by the Half Elf, even when they were in the Iyr.

“She called me papa,” Adam said, proudly.

“She has grown well,” Vonda said, brushing the girl’s hair.

“It is expected, since…” Dunes raised his brows, allowing them to finish the sentence themselves.

They were all acutely aware of the old man who was hanging around, drinking and speaking with the Iyrmen. No one truly knew his identity, but they gathered he was probably some ally from a faraway Kingdom, a friend of one of the strongest Iyrmen who perhaps invited him here.

“You haven’t come to take Stormdrake from me have you?” Jaygak asked, daring to mess with the old man. She, like many of the others around, had no idea that the old man had beaten a few of the stronger Iyrmen they knew.

“No, it is yours.” Strom bowed his head towards the Devilkin.

“Will you tell me what it does?”

Strom smiled, but remained silent.

“Do not bother the honoured Guest,” Kitool said.

“It is no bother,” Strom replied. “I appreciate the conversation, and I have nothing better to do.”

Kitool bowed her head.

“Is Shaool your grandmother?” Strom asked.

“She is my grandaunt.”

Strom nodded. “She is strong.” He had faced her twice. Once when he had appeared in the Iyr’s lands, and she had attacked him to try and force him back. The second time they had faced one another, it was alongside the Chief and the one armed Jarot, as well as another woman who smelled similar to the Kans.

“Yes,” Kitool replied, the smallest of smiles appearing on her face. “She is.”

“Do you plan to become as strong as her?” He recalled how her grandmother had caused his body to violently shudder, enough to kill the likes of Adam and the others.

“I can only hope I can bring half her glory.”

Strom threw a look to Adam for a moment, but nodded his head. “I’m sure you will.”

“Are you strong?” Jaygak asked.

“Not any more.”

“Why not?”

“I gave up my Spark.”

Jaygak threw up her brows in alarm, and even the stoic Kitool was taken aback.

“Why?” Jaygak asked.

Strom sighed, looking towards the young girl who was currently reaching up towards some fresh bread. “I bet it on a new age.”

Jaygak nodded approvingly. “How old are you?”

“Did Adam send you?”

“Can Adam send me?” Jaygak asked.

“Yes. Aren’t you weaker than him?”

Jaygak narrowed her eyes. “Not with Stormdrake in my…” She stopped, realising it was not becoming of an Iyrman to lie. “Maybe I am.”

“Do you want to be stronger?”

“That sounds like a pain,” Jaygak admitted. “I’m strong enough. For now.”

“You’re still young. You Devilkin live for what, two hundred years?”

“No. We live for about a hundred years.”

“Oh? We don’t have many Devilkin where I’m from, so I apologise.”

“What a shame. We Devilkin make the best food, so I feel sorry for you.”

“Perhaps I could ask you to make me something then?”

Jaygak’s eyes twinkled. “Sure! I’ll make you something.” It would be a great honour to cook for someone like Strom, but for a moment, the Devilkin’s eyes flashed with mischief. ‘Could I put in too many peppers without getting into trouble?’

“Young lady, you should be careful of who you pick fights with,” Strom said, smiling up at her.

“I wasn’t planning anything and you cannot prove it.”

“Do you think you’re the only troublemaker I know?” Strom asked.

Jaygak retreated quickly.

When dinner was made, the Ool family having cooked the meal, Lanarot ate as much bread as she could manage. She was shocked to find the bread was stuffed with other food stuffs, but she happily ate it all.

Lucy had left Adam mostly alone that day, but before Lanarot was taken away to her house, she held the girl, staring into her eyes. “Happy birthday.”

Lanarot squealed and kicked out her legs towards her.

Lucy handed the girl back to Adam, and gave him a nod. Adam could see that she was under the weather, but he nodded his head at her, and left her outside, where she made her bed.

Adam held the girl close. He wasn’t lonely, like Lucy, who had lost her friend. They still needed to find a Dragon heart for her, an adult Dragon heart. He sighed, wondering what he could do, but as Lanarot grabbed his hand, his thoughts fell away.

Jurot lay down, staring at the ceiling. He had left Lanarot to her own devices that day, allowing the others to shower her in their affection and attention. He thought back to when she was born a year ago. A little bundle who could only cry and squeal for her mother. Now she was walking about, calling for her mother.

The young Iyrman wondered if he was the same when he was her age.

He smiled.

“Happy birthday, princess,” Adam whispered, kissing the girl’s forehead once she was asleep.

‘There are no princesses in the Iyr,’ Jurot wanted to say, but he kept that to himself. He closed his eyes. If Aldland ever decided to betray the Iyr, however, that may change.

Lucy remained outside, staring up at the starry sky. She always did whenever she thought of home. ‘What kind of birthday was this?’ she thought. ‘They didn’t even find her a Dragon to ride.’ It was a joke she couldn’t share with anyone, one that only made her frown.

Gentle humming sounds filled the courtyard as Strom hummed, though soon the humming sounds quietened down so that Lucy could barely hear them. It was an old lullaby, one the old man had memorised, and had hummed for all of his children, and many of his grandchildren.

For a moment, he thought that this world had something to live for.