(Dylan)
Sighs of relief filled the Captain’s Quarters as the door opened, revealing a delivery of freshly brewed mana-tea. The large platter held two pots of the steaming dark drink, surrounded by a dozen overturned mugs. The ship’s smallest Echo made the delivery, a tiny figure amidst her towering crewmates. She had to slide her slightly oversized black bandana back into place after setting the tray. When most of the other lamprian crew crested well past seven feet tall, her diminutive frame stood out as the only person aboard the ship shorter than Dylan’s five foot nine-and-a-half-inch height.
Wedge gave him a preemptive stare and simply shook his head ‘no’ as Dylan gazed longingly at the closest thing this world had to coffee. He sighed and waited for Runemist to show up for her own meeting. They were all waiting for her, and most of the team wasn’t in the mood to chat until after they had a mug of mana-tea. Left to his own devices, Dylan’s mind traveled back to last night, when he’d first met Echo von A’lyce, the smallest lamprian.
After Wedge had finished breaking him for the day, Dylan shuffled his way back to his cabin. He made it to the stairs and was half-tempted to roll down them to save himself the effort when the smallest lamprian appeared beside him, offering her help. She was kind and genuine, and he gladly accepted her offer.
After practically carrying him down the stairs, she didn’t leave his side and escorted him all the way to his cabin. He thanked her after she’d gotten him settled into his hammock. Echo hesitated before leaving. She kept looking at his face.
Dylan noticed and asked if he’d missed washing off a spot of blood. She giggled and shook her head, instead asking about his unusual ears. That was the icebreaker that got her to take a seat in the cramped room as they talked for a while.
Echo was intensely curious about him, having never met a human before. Likewise, he had just as many questions for her, and they took turns sharing about themselves, quickly becoming fast friends.
Eventually, Dylan gathered the courage to ask why she was so much smaller than the others. At first, she grew quiet, and he silently cursed himself, fearing he’d been inappropriate again. But then Echo lifted her skull and told him about her host, A’lyce.
They were just a child, well before the age of genderability. Echo was patient with Dylan’s constant interruptions, always taking the time to answer his questions before moving on. She seemed happy just to have someone to talk to.
She explained that draconi are born genderless and remain that way until they undergo a magical process similar to puberty—if Dylan understood it correctly. Afterward, they can use energy from their hoard to change physical aspects of their body; crests and gender were the most frequently altered.
That night, Dylan learned a lot about draconi. Apparently, they have a magical organ called a hoard, where they absorb and store energy from breaking down metals and minerals. He found it fascinating, comparing them to Earth’s dragon myths.
After satisfying his curiosity with her detailed answers, Echo continued the tale of her host. As she spoke, his subconscious had already begun piecing together fragments, stirring an uneasy, creeping sense of sorrow.
A’lyce came from a family of explorers who’d temporarily settled down to start their own family. A decade had passed since A’lyce had been a hatchling, and the opportunity of a lifetime had presented itself to their parents.
The League of Adventurers had discovered a habitable, uncolonized planet—the first in centuries, perhaps even millennia—named Lok’oria after Lo’kai, the adventurer who’d made the discovery while on an unrelated contract.
For ten years, their parents remained in one place, yet the call of the unknown only grew louder. Elves had charted much of the galaxy long before the draconi had turned their gaze to the stars, but this was their chance to be first—to see what no one else had seen, to tread where no one else had dared.
The desire to know what lay beyond the next hill, to peer around the next bend, never truly left them. Finally, overcome by wanderlust, they gave in, convincing themselves that everything would be fine, as if wishing such a thing would make it so.
A’lyce’s parents uprooted their lives, taking their ten-year-old child on an expedition to another planet. For generations, their family had been explorers, each passing their knowledge, techniques, and heritage on to the next.
“Habitable” might’ve been a stretch for Lok’oria, still thawing from its most recent ice age. But the first year went well, and A’lyce caught the curiosity bug—a family tradition. It wasn’t until the end of the second year that curiosity led A’lyce to an unfortunate discovery.
As with other fiercely independent twelve-year-olds, they ignored their parents’ wishes, venturing into unexplored areas. One such area was a cave—the tomb of a fallen kaiju. Afraid the expedition would take it from them, they told no one else about the perfectly preserved reptilian behemoth.
The smell started a few weeks after A’lyce had found the creature, and each visit grew more treacherous as the warm weather melted the ice during the day, only to freeze it solid again at night. That’s when A’lyce caught a very different kind of bug. That’s when they got sick.
The sickness was something they’d never seen before; it ravaged A’lyce’s ability to absorb metals and minerals. What began as a mere loss of appetite quickly progressed into starvation as their underdeveloped hoard ran out of energy to sustain them
The expedition included a highly skilled, uncommon-ranked mender—a lamprian. She did what she could for A’lyce, but while restoring lost health was possible, curing the unknown sickness itself was an entirely different matter. They were on an uncolonized planet, and the next delivery ship wouldn’t arrive for another month.
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The lamprian was immune to the disease, but the rest of the draconi expedition was at risk. Faced with a terrible choice, they quarantined the child, allowing only the mender to visit safely.
Desperate, A’lyce’s parents asked the mender if she had a child of her own to join with theirs. As it so happened, she did. Though it was a terrible idea and unlikely to save their child, the parents were relentless, appealing to her maternal instincts. Eventually, physically and mentally exhausted, their desperation became hers as she watched the child waste away. Compassion won over better judgment, and she agreed to perform Symbiosis.
The mender’s abilities, even when combined with lamprian host regeneration, only bought the child another week. Echo von A’lyce had been born into this world forever trapped in the body of a child.
The first child left too soon, the second arrived too early—each one a different face of the same tragedy.
Dylan was a blubbering mess of snot and tears when Echo finished her tale. He looked at her with quivering lips and asked if she wanted a hug. She told him she’d like that.
Ignoring his exhausted, aching body, he climbed out of the hammock and hugged the ever-living crap out of that small skeleton. Then she told him he was warm and gave good hugs.
Dylan found himself back in the Captain’s Quarters, still waiting for the meeting to start. His sniffling caught Eury’s attention.
She hesitated, a flicker of concern across her otherwise guarded face. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice more gentle than usual.
He nodded and lied, “Allergies.” It was all he trusted himself to say without giving in to the sadness threatening his composure. He wiped the corner of his eye with a knuckle.
The smallest lamprian noticed him too, giving him a tiny wave before disappearing through the door.
A few moments later, Runemist burst through the door and said, “Show of hands. Who knew Dylan was a refugee?” The door whined as it shut behind her.
The room grew silent as everyone responded to her question. Dylan looked around. His fellow initiates had seen his League card, and all raised their hands. Wedge, who already knew from Nathan, raised his hand as well. Dylan hadn’t expected the four additional hands from Tome & Key; everyone except Runemist had known.
She glanced at the newest member of her team, Athrax. “Really…? How’d you find out?”
The old soldier unconsciously glanced toward the twins, but remained silent.
Runemist sighed. “Everyone on this bloody airship knows, and I’m the last to find out? Even the crew knew.” She threw up her clawed hands. “And here I was, concerned about keeping you all in the loop.”
Wedge tried to defuse the situation. “I assumed the Guildmaster had already told you.”
“He should’ve…” Her jaw clenched. “Regrettably, he chose not to. I’ll be having a chat with him when we get back. As for you lot,” she pointed around the room, “if you see something as idiotic as taking a refugee along for a quest, bring it to my attention immediately.”
She took another breath, calming herself. “I’ve spoken with our refugee and he wants me to treat him like the other initiates—”
“Worse,” Dylan said.
She glared at the interruption. “What?”
“I want you to treat me worse than the other initiates,” he said and then made a scowl. “Like get all mean and grumpy. You know, give me a super hard time.”
The entire room looked at him as if he were crazy—except for Wedge, who just shrugged.
“Clearly, as you can all see, this is all his decision. Are there any questions?” she asked.
Surprising everyone, Wedge raised his hand.
“Wedge?” she said, calling on him.
“When do you want me to resume his training?” he asked.
“We’ll get to that in a moment.” She turned to Dylan. “Alright, everyone’s here. Tell them,” she gestured toward him.
Dylan glanced around, waiting for someone to tell him something. When no one spoke up, he asked, “What?” He pointed to himself. “Do you mean me?”
Runemist put her hand at the bridge of her snout, covering her closed eyes. As a humanoid husky, Dylan couldn’t help but find the gesture adorable.
She sighed again. “This is the part where you ask me to make you a promise, remember?”
“Oh! Right.” He smacked his palm against his forehead. “Promise me you’ll ignore my refugee contract.” He smiled and nodded.
“No,” she said.
“No?” He narrowed his eyes, wondering if it was a trick question. He could’ve sworn that’s what she’d asked him to do earlier.
“Specify when the promise ends… Or I’ll have to keep it forever. I’m not making that mistake again,” she said.
“Having to be careful what you ask for sounds very fae-ish to me.” Dylan placed a finger on his chin. “Is it from a Fae orb?” He tried to apply what he’d learned from his book.
“Worse,” she grumbled. “An Order orb. Be exceptionally careful when dealing with anything involving Order.”
Dylan interlocked his fingers and turned them outward, cracking his knuckles. “Alright, let’s try this again.” He rolled his shoulders and shook out his fingers as if gearing up for an event. “Runemist, leader of Tome & Key. I wish for you to promise me that you’ll ignore my contract as a refugee. Until the end of this trip, that is my plea.” He nodded as he finished his rhyme.
Runemist rolled her eyes at his shenanigans.
“What?” he asked. “You said to be more specific.”
She shook her head at him disapprovingly and said, “I promise.”
Three tiny, half-transparent golden shields manifested above her, positioning themselves to cover her forehead, muzzle, and chest. They hovered briefly before melding into the okamijin.
“Yep, magic’s still pretty cool,” Dylan said.
“Excellent.” Runemist let out a breath. “Now that I’m no longer conflicted, Wedge, I want you to run him until he vomits or breaks something. Preferably both, but you can choose the order. Come find me when he’s ready to be fixed.”
“Yes.” Dylan gave a small fist pump.
Runemist ended the meeting, and the group dispersed. Most of them headed toward the mess hall in search of breakfast.
“You’re insane,” Eury told him as she walked by.
“Listen,” W’itney said. “If this is about your shape… I just want you to know, I think you’re perfect just the way you are.” They gave him a sly wink. “Isn’t that right, Hay’len?”
Hay’len’s purple face grew flush as W’itney dragged them unwillingly into another uncomfortable conversation. They glanced at W’itney, who raised their eyebrows and nodded toward Dylan.
“Yes,” Hay’len said, wringing their hands. “I think your weight is… well proportioned.” They gave him a slight nod after the compliment, quickly pushing past their twin to exit through the door.
Yesterday, Dylan learned that stamina and mana were linked and restoring one would refresh the other. After he’d collapsed from exhaustion, Wedge would simply get Ostello, the well-dressed, intense-looking elf, to use one of his abilities that restored mana. It was impressive how much training he could do with a nearly unlimited source of energy. No wonder everyone was so fit.
Now, he could consistently push past his limits—not that his current limitations were very high. But between Runemist and Ostello, injuries and exhaustion weren’t issues when you had access to magic. With almost no downtime, training while on magic felt like cheating, and Wedge made sure Dylan cheated extremely hard over the next two days.