“...but when spring arrived, something miraculous happened,” I recite, scratching the scales on Ollie’s head. He heaves a contented sigh, curling tighter around his pile of found treasures. The newcomers have only added fuel to that fire, as it’s become a tradition for each new member of Fyreneth’s Fortress to gift a small token to the dragon upon their arrival.
“Charlotte’s children, hundreds of tiny spiderlings, emerged from their eggs and began to spin webs of their own. They floated away on a breeze, ready to spread messages of friendship and kindness across the land, just as their mother had.”
“Hundreds?” Mirzayael interrupts. “That’s an excessive amount of children.”
“I thought arachnoids could only have a clutch of a dozen kids?” Dizzi asks.
“Up to eight, typically,” Mirzayael says.
“Charlotte was a spider, not an arachnoid,” I clarify. “Like, the small bug variety which live in the crevices of your house.”
“Well that makes no sense at all.” Mirzayael crosses her arms. “Spiders are not intelligent. How did she write messages in her web?”
“Although that does explain why they left her out in the barn in the winter to die,” Dizzi adds.
“It’s a children’s tale.” I sigh. “It’s not real. Now can I finish without any further interruptions?” It was like this every night.
Mirzayael grunts, indicating she wants me to continue even if she’d never actually personally request that I do so.
“Right,” I say. “So each year, Charlotte’s children would return, sharing stories with Wilbur, just like their mother had. They reminded everyone that true friendship knows no bounds—not time, or space, or even their differences could separate them. Charlotte’s legacy of kindness and wisdom lived on.”
“THAT’S A GOOD STORY,” Ollie says. “IT’S SAD.”
“What part makes you sad?” I ask.
“THE SPIDER DIED EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS JUST NICE TO EVERYONE. SHE SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN TO LIVE.”
I pat his head. “Everyone dies someday, Ollie. Whether you’re nice or not. But that doesn’t have to be the end.” For Ollie and I, that’s doubly true. “Charlotte lived on in the memories of others. She made people happy even after she was gone. That’s what it means to have a legacy.”
“Or become a legend,” Dizzi adds. “Sometimes your actions in life can transcend death.”
“OH, OKAY,” Ollie says, letting out a sleepy sigh. “HEY FYRE?”
“Yes?”
“WANT TO COME FLYING WITH ME TOMORROW?”
The abrupt change of topic catches me off guard. “I can’t fly yet.”
“YOU COULD SIT ON MY BACK. I’M VERY STRONG.”
“I’m sure you are.” I rub circles around his forehead, just between his horns. “Maybe when Sora finishes making me that harness. It might be a little dangerous for me without wind magic of my own.”
Ollie grumbles in disappointment, but doesn’t say anything as I continue to rub his head. His eyes flutter closed.
“You could tie yourself down in the meantime,” Dizzi suggests. “Rope should be enough.”
“Don’t give him any ideas,” I murmur.
She smiles, but lowers her voice. “You could also work on developing that wind magic. I heard there’s some cloudstone around here?”
“A cave system off the main branch,” Mirzayael says. “Why? What’s that got to do with it?”
“Let’s visit it tomorrow,” Dizzi suggests. “Maybe that’s the bit of inspiration Fyre needs to develop a wind affinity.”
Mirzayael frowns, but I nod appreciatively to Dizzi. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to visit it at some point anyway. I intend to incorporate cloudstone into some of my plans for the Fortress. Tomorrow seems as good a day as any.”
“Is he asleep?” Mirzayael abruptly asks, nodding to Ollie. She gets like this around Dizzi—well, all the newcomers, really.
I give Ollie a gentle pat. “Getting there, I think.”
“Do you really come down here to tell him stories every night?” Dizzi asks, more than happy to roll with Mirzayael’s blunt change of topic.
“Yes,” I say. “He’s just a kid. He’d get lonely by himself. I wish I had more time to spend with him, actually. For now, opening up passages around Fyreneth’s Fortress and setting up pavilions for him to sit on at different levels is the most I can do.”
“That’s quite thoughtful,” Dizzi says. “You must really care about him.”
And it strikes me that I really do. I look at this giant beast, but all I see is a little boy, and I’m once again reminded of my daughter when she was his age—when she still looked up at me with wide-eyed awe and affection.
“I do,” I say, gently taking my hand away. “We’re all each other has got.”
“FYRE?” Ollie says, his voice slow and tired.
I grimace. I’d thought he was too sleepy to be listening. “Yes, Ollie?”
“WHEN CAN I GO HOME?”
The question hits me like a slap. My chest aches, and a deep pity and sadness comes over me.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. Truth be told, I don’t even know if it’s possible. Surely if a soul can come to this world, then it must be reversable—not accounting for entropy, of course. Although, trying to find a way back to Earth isn’t even something I’ve begun to investigate. In fact, I’d rather not go back at all. But Ollie… For him it would be worth looking into. Somehow.
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“It might be a while, kid,” I say.
“I MISS MOM AND DAD.”
My heart breaks in two. I lean over and wrap an arm around his snout. “I know.”
----------------------------------------
“Alright, everyone, listen up,” Dizzi orders, and the kids snap to attention. “Fyre needs our help. Who’s in?”
“This really isn’t necessary,” I say, but the kids and young teens are all bouncing with eager energy. I glance over at Mirzayael, begging for rescue, but she just meets my gaze with an impassive “This is what you get” sort of look.
“Our mission is to retrieve some cloudstone for Fyre,” Dizzi continues. “Captain Mirzayael here is going to show us to the chamber, then I expect everyone to work together to obtain a proper sample. Understood?”
“Understood!” the kids cry.
“Captain Mirzayael.” Dizzi salutes, though her mouth twitches as if she wants to laugh. “Please lead the way.”
Mirzayael rolls her eyes, but jerks her head in the direction of the cave system we’ll be entering. “Come on, then. And stay quiet. Noise attracts stingers. If they get to you before I get to them, you’ll have thirty minutes to find an antidote.”
The kids exchange a collection of excited and nervous glances, then follow after her. I hang back with Dizzi at the end of the troop.
“You know, when you asked if others could accompany us, this isn’t what I had in mind,” I say to her.
She chuckles. “It’s all in good fun. The parents need the kids out of their hair for a bit while they get settled. And it’s good for kids from the two colonies to mix together a bit. Besides, they’ve all been dying to spend more time with you, and this seemed like a harmless adventure to take them on.”
“I wish you wouldn’t feed their superstition,” I say.
“I’m not,” she says. “What better way to show them who you really are than for them to spend some time getting to know you?”
“Hm.” I hadn’t considered that angle. Perhaps giving them the opportunity to see I’m just flesh and blood like the rest of them will help dispel some rumors. “That’s actually a very thoughtful idea. Thank you, Dizzi.”
“No problem, boss.” She nudges me in the arm. “Say, Mirzayael didn’t really mean that thing about the Stingers, did she? Because it would look really bad if I came back with a dead kid.”
“No, she’s just trying to scare them.” I pause. “I’m pretty sure, anyway.”
The trek leads us through a winding network of passages, in and out of caverns, up and down rocky slopes. We’re a bit far from Fyreneth’s Fortress, however Mirzayael still seems confident in the path we’re taking. I haven’t actually scoped out this section of the cave system yet, as I’ve mostly been focusing on completing the Core’s map around the city itself, but every step we take in this new direction eats away more of the Fog of War on my mental display. If nothing else, I’ll be able to backtrack our route perfectly.
“Here,” Mirzayael abruptly announces as we step into a cavern.
There’s no spell circles or runes carved into the walls to light the space, so I summon a small blaze and toss it up toward the ceiling. Given how much mana the Dungeon Core has consumed from all the mana ore, I have more than enough to keep the ethereal fire burning for the duration of our stay.
The room warms with orange light as my magic rises toward the ceiling. It’s a couple stories tall, with the standard array of stalactites and stalagmites, though an additional interesting feature adorns this room. A large pile of rocks and boulders are scattered over the ceiling, as if a bag of stones had been spilled across the surface… and then defied gravity to stay there.
“There we are.” Dizzi nods. “That’s cloudstone for you. Alright, soldiers, you know what to do!”
“Perhaps we should scout the area first,” Mirzayael starts, but the kids are already rushing into the cavern in excitement. The harpy children jump into the air, gusts of wind accompanying their flight, while the handful of dwarf, dracid, felis, and arachnoid kids scatter, examining stones on the ground and veins in the walls.
“Don’t worry,” Dizzi says, flapping her wings and rising with the other harpies. “They’ll be fine. I’ll watch the ones up here if you watch the ones down there.”
“Be careful,” I say anyway. She waves as she circles up toward the ceiling, where she runs a hand through the collection of stones floating there. The rocks bounce and bobble like leaves on a wave, then slowly settle back down.
“You don’t think they’re really in danger, do you?” I ask Mirzayael.
“We haven’t cleared every inch of the cave system,” she says. “In fact, we’ve only had the resources to start hunting stingers in earnest since you arrived.”
I pale. “Then the kids could get hurt?”
She shrugs. “It’s possible.”
“But we’re nowhere near the city,” I say, concern mounting. “If they get stung, what will we do about needing an antidote?”
Mirzayael pulls her pack around her shoulder and flips open the top. Inside are several jars. “I came prepared.”
I sag in relief, then shake my head, chuckling. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were looking to give me a scare for the fun of it.”
She quirks a smile, slinging her pack back in place. “Maybe you don’t know me better, then.”
We watch the kids explore the cavern for a few minutes in comfortable silence. The harpies have gotten distracted from their rock gathering mission as they kick a round stone around in some kind of gravity defying game of football. Meanwhile, the kids on the ground have also gotten ahold of a few cloudstones with a lower mana density and are playing a bizarre looking game of “keep it up” with a couple of small boulders.
“I’m starting to think this was more just a field trip for the kids than it was actually a scientific investigation for Dizzi and I,” I say to Mirzayael.
“No idea what would have given you that impression,” she replies.
I elbow her playfully. “So what do you think by now? Still convinced they’re all untrustworthy outsiders?”
“Yes,” she says. “Not enough time has passed yet for them to earn my trust.”
“You could always try to give trust first,” I say. “It goes a long way toward building bridges.”
“Or set up pitfalls if built upon a faulty foundation.”
“Don’t be like that,” I say. “You trust me, don’t you?”
She gives me a sideways look. “You’ve earned it.”
“Well that misses the point,” I say, “but I’m flattered.”
We stand quietly together for another minute as the kids laugh and race about.
“She’s trying to impress you,” Mirzayael abruptly speaks up.
“Dizzi?” I ask. “She’s just a curious soul, like myself.”
“But she wants you to like her,” Mirzayael says.
I chuckle. “I don’t think that’s a crime.”
“She’s attempting to buy favors,” Mirzayael grumbles.
“Or just forge a friendship,” I point out. “Does that bother you?”
She hesitates. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“She won’t hurt me, Mirzayael.”
“If she ends up betraying us—”
“Why?” I ask, exasperated. “How? You have no reason to suspect her, except that you just suspect everyone. No one else in the city harbors this much wariness for outsiders. Where is this coming from?”
But I can practically see the woman close herself off. Her shoulders go stiff, her back rigid, and her face smooths into an impassive look. “It is safer to be wary. More difficult to be hurt if you’re discriminate in who you let in. If you only rely on yourself, you’ll never be disappointed.”
“That sounds like a lonely way to live,” I remark. Is that how she’s lived? Pushing away anyone who ventured too close?
“It’s practical,” she says shortly.
Because your parents left you when you were a child? I think. Was that the only way you were able to cope with their loss? But I say none of this aloud. Her stance is too tight, her body wound up defensively. If I try to push the subject, she’ll only withdraw more. Instead, I give her arm a gentle pat. She shoots me a questioning look, and smile reassuringly. Wordlessly, she returns to watching the kids, but I can feel her relax, just a fraction.
After a few minutes longer, Dizzi comes spiraling back down. “Here!” She lands with a gust that stirs up all the dust around us, then holds a stone out to me. “I picked the best specimen I could find,” she says with a wink.
I take the cloudstone. It wants to lift from my hand and float back into the air—such a strange, paradoxical sensation. “What makes it the best specimen?” I ask.
“Because I gave it to you, of course!” Dizzi laughs at her own joke, and I smile as well. Mirzayael’s mood darkens like a smog, but I try to let Dizzi’s enthusiasm shine through.
“You really think I can use this thing to gain a wind affinity?” I bounce the stone between my hands, watching it float in fascination.
“It can’t hurt to experiment,” Dizzi says.
I chuckle. “Now those are words to live by.”