"I'm just glad that you're back unharmed..." my mother put the plates in front of us, the trembling of her hands giving away how shocked she was by what this innocent sneak in mission turned into.

"I'm still not quite sure how we managed that," I took my fork, the sight in front of me rewarding the fact that I couldn't fall asleep after it all. She made my favorite dish: potatoes, grated into thin strands, spiced and fried formed a thick wreath on the edge of the plate, the center occupied by three fried eggs. I wouldn't change it for anything that was served in the royal castle. Even Shia got interested, jumping onto the table and sniffing my plate.

Kristya, sitting opposite me, was already flipping through the small notebook that we brought with us. "This doesn't really seem to be a diary in the strict sense..." she muttered. "Rather something he wrote down important things in, or used it to let out steam when some emotions boiled up. Mostly frustration..."

"I bet..."

She took a bite of her meal and stopped for a moment, staring at the plate. To my amusement, she suddenly forgot about the notebook and focused fully on eating, her expression blissful. Smiling, I turned the small book around and pulled it towards me, not stopping to eat. There was no doubt it belonged to the king, I recognized the handwriting. It surprised me that it was still as neat as in every official document, even though this notebook probably wasn't meant to be seen by anyone but him. Was it just his way of being, or the discipline he was once taught, the same way he tried to teach it to me...?

"Look here," Kristya flipped a few pages in front of me. "I think this is where we should start. The date is about two and a half years ago..."

"'Calthraval fled...'" I read the first, lone line out loud, suddenly feeling my stomach starting to twist a little. And not from joy at the nostalgic taste. "'I suppose I should have taken his threats more seriously... I didn't know he had it in him...'"

I stopped, seeing Kristya's hand tremble a little. I wasn't sure if it was grief or anger though...

"He was... he was a lot like you," she said quietly. "Among people, he was rather reserved, serious, usually hiding his true emotions, even if they threatened to boil out of him. When it was just him and me, he was a completely different person. Open, smiling, not holding back any critique that he had to stifle during the day..." a small smile formed on Kristya's lips. "It was... simply fun to listen to him. To learn how he saw the world, the people around, how he longed to see what was beyond those stone walls..."

Yeah, I knew that feeling... I bet it was different for Calthraval though. I longed to break free because a memory that was buried deep down kept telling me that I belonged somewhere else entirely. He longed for it because of his very own, conscious desire...

I flipped another page. There was... surprisingly little about Calthraval after the mention of his escape. Only a note to send out a search party, then a few frustrated sentences concerning their failure. But then...

"'Those mages just keep being a thorn in my side... Now this one thinks he can order me around just because he knows a few magic tricks he can threaten me with and has some sort of history with my house? Well, he can't. This is exactly why mages should be eliminated in the first place...'"

I frowned, pushing the notebook to the side for a moment and reaching for the letters. All of their authors seemed to be familiar with the custom of putting a date on their correspondence, and I quickly arranged them from oldest to newest. It struck me immediately that the first letter was the only one written in a very curvy, slanted handwriting that didn't appear anywhere else.

The signature read Sharish Caydranth.

"That's it, this is the order to capture me..." I muttered, reading over the elegant lines and taking a moment to admire the small drawing in the bottom corner, depicting a dragon skull pierced by something that looked like a very fanciful spear. "It... doesn't say anything specific about me though. It's rather like... an order to identify the person who this Sharish needs..."

"What?" Kristya gave me a confused look.

"That's how I understand it. This Sharish wrote that he's looking for a descendant of some lineage who carried the name Embershade, and that he'll send a subordinate of his to the king in order to help with that." I looked at my father, who was busy sharpening the blade of his hunting spear. "Did we ever have a family name, dad?"

"Not that I know, we're just commoners," his hand that held the whetstone paused for a moment. "My grandmother used to tell me tales though... tales of us being the great great great grandchildren of some noble warrior. I don't think it was serious though."

"And what if it was...?" I tapped the letter in front of me.

"Even if, there's no way to verify it. The dead can't tell us anything, son."

"Paper can though," Kristya finished her meal and turned the notebook around again. "'I'll make sure he never finds that brat. There are other mages... let them play against each other. I happen to know one who will do almost anything for the right price...'"

"This is disgusting..." I winced. It felt more and more like I was just some insignificant pawn in a mocking game between the king and some mages.

"It is, even more than I thought... It seems the king told the subordinate of Sharish that you managed to escape, heading somewhere north-west..." Kristya flipped one more page, then grabbed the two bottom most letters. "This one seems to be from one of the king's men, responding to the king's order to find that other mage... And this one is very recent. It's a request to attempt another search for you, since your family is still living nearby and they doubt you just abandoned them... It's not signed..."

"It's probably from Sharish's subordinate, isn't it?"

"Probab..."

"What?"

"Look."

I took the parchment from Kristya and read the sentence she was pointing at. "'We must prevent the successors of the Last Dragons from spreading chaos in Earlindon again...'" I blinked. "What in the world do the Last Dragons have to do with any of this?"

"How should I know?"

I leaned back, frowning in frustration. This whole escapade brought more questions than it answered. This Sharish knew something about the history of my family. His subordinate must have been nearby the whole time if he knew that my loved ones are still here. And now the mention of the Last Dragons...

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Maybe we could go to that prophet?" Kristya stroked Shia, allowing her to lick her plate clean. "You said he saw this Sharish in his visions, right? Maybe he can tell us something more now that we have all this information?"

"Why not. I doubt we'll figure anything out by ourselves."

I thanked my mother and rushed to wash up our dishes while Kristya neatly stacked all the papers on the table before we headed out. It looked like it was about to start raining, so I hid the documents under my vest (or rather my dad's) just in case. As we approached the opposite border of the village, the raspy voice of old Zaafiel reached my ears.

"She told me she saw blood, don't be stubborn about this."

"I said I'm fine," responded a muffled voice, probably coming from behind a door. "As you can see, I was able to come to the door and I can talk to you just fine, so I'm not in mortal danger, alright?"

We came around the hut that was obscuring our view on Tavris' house just in time to see the old herbalist turn around, sighing. "Very well. You know where to find me should you change your mind."

"Thank you," came the response that didn't sound grateful at all.

We waited until the medic walked off towards his house, not paying much attention to us, before approaching the prophet's door.

"Look, if you don't let me rest, I won't be able to heal even if you help me," Tavris snarled again after my knock.

"Sorry if I'm disturbing, it's me, Sig. But I can come another time..."

"Oh..." the prophet's voice softened and after a brief moment of silence, the door opened just a little. "Sorry, I thought it was Zaafiel again. How can I help you?"

I lowered my voice. "We went to the castle last night... and brought something back. I was hoping you could take a look and tell us what you think."

"I'd be happy to," Tavris stepped behind the door, as if not wanting anyone else to see him, and opened it more so we could slip inside.

"Thanks," I turned a little to look at him and raised my eyebrows. "What happened to you...?"

The prophet smiled a little, or rather attempted some expression that turned into a half-smile and half-wince. There was a huge bruise under his right temple "I had an... unlucky night," he started to explain, heading to his little writing table. He was limping. "I had a vision about a really big deer wandering nearby, and thought of a safe way to take it out. Everyone else was already asleep, so I thought I'd do it myself... and overestimated my abilities. Ivyette saw me when I returned in the morning and immediately told Zaafiel..."

"Why didn't you want his help though? You really don't look good..."

The prophet sighed, sounding a little frustrated. "It's just... quite embarrassing whenever my prophecies don't quite work as intended. Maybe it's just my silly pride..."

"I see..." I looked down at the papers underneath my clothing. A brief thought of whether or not we should bother him while he was in this state briefly crossed my mind, but was quickly overpowered by something else.

By holding the letters close to my chest, I was pressing the mysterious crystal that I was wearing on my neck to my skin too. For some reason, it started to radiate warmth... Not an amount that would scald the skin or do any damage to the clothing, but for some reason, it made me feel uneasy... All the more when it died down after just a few seconds...

"What is it you found then?" my head jerked up at Tavris' question. When I took the papers out and spread them on the table, the prophet let out an impressed hum. "You've been diligent."

"We tried..."

We sat down by the hearth while Tavris looked over the documents one by one, nodding every now and then. Eventually, he held up the very first letter and pointed at the small drawing of the dragon skull. "This definitely comes from Sharish Caydranth. It's the same crest I saw on him in my vision."

"And what do you make of the rest? Do you know anything about that Embershade family? Or why the Last Dragons would be involved?"

"I think... these two questions might have the same answer."

"Eh?"

Tavris shifted his chair to face us and leaned back, letting out a small sigh of relief. "You know already, that the Last Dragons were three beasts that humans defeated in the Great Central Plains under the command of a mage from the Caydranth family, right?" I nodded, so he continued: "I think... this might not have been the end of massive bloodshed. It might have been just the beginning."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe we already talked about why humans started to hunt down dragons as well, didn't we?"

"We did. One of them burned down some settlement in the north, making the people feel threatened enough to pick up swords."

"That's right. But... I'm afraid that the anger that drove people to this war wasn't exclusively directed at dragons."

"What? Why did they kill them all then?"

"Don't we all react with fear to anything that we don't understand or if we encounter someone who's much stronger than us? Especially if we don't know this person's intentions and have no idea what their powers will be used for?"

I nodded again, feeling uncomfortable. It was exactly what I felt when I realized the two people who snuck into the king's chambers after me and Kristya were mages...

"If I had to make an assumption, I'd say that this fear might be directed at other magical races too, now that dragons are gone," Tavris said, sadness shrouding his tone.

"You mean mages above all, don't you... I've been learning about it quite a lot at the castle. At first, our race was just grateful for the land the mages gave us, no hostility from either side... but still, just giving up their land must have bugged at least a few mages. It created friction here and there... Small quarrels turned into big ones, big quarrels eventually led to one fight, then to another... As we speak, there are soldiers being moved to our northern borders just in case, as far as I'm aware. But that still doesn't answer any of those two questions."

"It does, you just need one more piece of information," Tavris stated, meaningfully rising one of his fingers. I looked at it with sudden interest. "I don't know if it's actually true, but I heard that the Last Dragons decided to leave pieces of themselves in this world before they marched to certain death."

"Wait... how?"

"I'm not sure. But rumor has it, they sensed that the hatred won't stop once their race is wiped out. So they chose three beings who would inherit some of their powers and ensure that no other war would ruin this land."

"And one of them... was a member of this Embershade family?"

"Most probably. Legends say the powers would be inherited throughout generations until the time comes when they would be needed."

"This is ridiculous. How could three people with some small amount of dragon powers stop another war if the dragons themselves couldn't do it? And even if they would be capable of something like that, who can guarantee which side they'll choose to stand on?"

Tavris' eyes rested on the small flames flickering in the hearth. After a moment, their expression became pained. "Maybe... the Last Dragons believed that if normal humans inherit magic and partially become the very thing the human race fears, it would force the people to think about it all..."

I closed my eyes for a moment. If only they would be right... "So... you think that I'm a descendant of one of those chosen people? I've never heard the name Embershade being spoken in my house."

"I don't know... I'm afraid this is all I can tell you."

I suddenly noticed how pale the prophet looked. Hastily getting up, I bowed a little. "You already told us a lot. Thank you so much. Now please rest..."

"Will do..."

I threw him concerned glances as I gathered the letters from the small table, while Kristya made sure he reached his modest bedding safely. We told him not to worry about supper, promising we would bring him some, and left quietly.

"Somehow, we're learning more and more and yet it's still a tangled mess..." muttered my friend as we headed to the bell founder workshop, the first droplets starting to come down from the steel-colored sky.

"Yeah... but hey, at least we're advancing. Kind of..."

Kristya giggled quietly. "I think we need rest too."

"Definitely. I couldn't settle down after we came back... I think I'll ask my mum to bring Tavris some food later and just hit the bed..."

"Good idea."

We said our goodbyes by the backdoor of the workshop and I headed back home. Listening to the murmur of the incoming rain surrounding me, I took out the crystal from underneath my shirt. While in Tavris' house, it became warm again two or three times more... I was sure now that it was some sort of magical object, but what exactly was its purpose? Why did it react in such a weird way, and more importantly, what did it react to in the first place? Tavris was a prophet, I bet he had some strange objects used for divination in his house, was that it?

Sighing, I decided to stop thinking for now. I could do it later, when my brain would actually be capable of thinking again...