No one wanted to provoke an enraged elder dwarf. They sat down, silently consuming the simple yet savory fare—Nyar wasn't sure if anyone could actually taste anything; for him, everything he ate felt like a stone settling heavily in his stomach.

Isty, wrapped in a blanket, curled up between Lydia and Kalebryn on a chair, still lost in unnatural slumber. It was a bizarre sight, but Scott refused to let the boy out of his sight, so there they sat.

The dwarf belched and pushed away his plate. By the gods, he still managed to eat his usual portion.

"Now, let's talk," he declared, hands flat on the table, glaring sternly from one somber-faced man to the other, both much younger than him, yet neither easily swayed.

Nyar's hand shot up.

"I object!" he blurted out.

"Shut it, lad!" the dwarf hurled a half-eaten apple his way.

"Not this time!" Nyar dodged easily, insisting, "I thought we had settled this matter and made a decision! Five years ago, right here, we agreed that since no one knew what this child might become, we couldn't kill him. We... well, Scott was to raise him well, teach him to be good. And if it didn't work out, if he truly did something unforgivable, then... we'd make another decision. We all agreed, didn't we? What has he done now? We can't kill him! And I..." He paused, "I think having him sit here listening to us discuss this isn't a good idea, it's just too odd!"

"Don't worry." Elen's face was grim, "I gave him a little something to sleep... just in case."

Lydia shrugged, "Just in case, I added another small spell, don't worry, he can't hear us."

Scott sat rigid, fists clenched, body straight as a board.

"No one will harm him," he stated.

Elen sighed, "When did I ever say I wanted to kill him?"

"You looked like you were about to... do that," Nyar mumbled.

"I just think he doesn't belong here anymore. First off," Elen glared at Scott, "I think you have no idea how to raise a child."

"I've raised him for five years! He's alive and kicking!" Scott protested.

"You've taken care of him less than Lida! You even locked him alone in a tower all afternoon!" Elen accused, "If it was my daughter, she'd cry herself faint—no, she might kick a hole in the door... that's not the point. Scott, he might be this close to turning back into a dragon!"

"He wailed and fussed by my ear for two whole days, wouldn't listen to anything I said, all because I wouldn't let him go into those dangerous tunnels with Nyar!" Scott bellowed, "Two days! And you all stayed far away!"

Everyone winced.

"Hold on, friends," Kalebryn sighed, pressing his forehead, "I thought our problem was 'how to deal with a dangerous creature that turns into a dragon,' not 'how to deal with a bratty kid.'"

"So, Carvo, where were you planning to take him?" Lydia asked curiously.

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"To the temple of the water goddess, I suppose," Elen Carvo glanced at Scott, "Collins is close by. Or the Mage Association. Places that could nurture him and control his powers."

"Wow, I wouldn't suggest handing him over to the mages," Lydia twirled her hair, mocking her fellow practitioners, "They'd probably be more interested in trying any method that'd make him turn back into a dragon faster than watching him grow up carefully."

"So, the temple?"

"Yeah, the temple," Kalebryn scoffed, "No doubt, those holy priests would mercifully let this half-dragon creature live out his life in chains, in the dark underground. I bet they'd even chant prayers to him three times a day."

Nyar shuddered, "I've been meaning to ask, Kalebryn, are you really a priest of the moon goddess?"

"My goddess is exceedingly, exceedingly lenient with me." The priest leaned back, offering the thief a chilling smile.

"Enough." Scott slowly stood up, his gaze firm as it swept across each face, "I won't let Iskontia go anywhere. He's my brother—you didn't object five years ago, you have no right to do so now. He belongs here."

"To a cold stone castle, never to leave, with his only kin gone half the year, possibly dying somewhere without his knowledge. Is that what you're saying?" Elen countered.

"Elen Carvo," Logan drummed the table lightly, "I hate it when you talk in circles."

"Then, Scott Thirk, you cannot be a competent brother, a paladin always ready to answer the call, and a busy adventurer, constantly in mortal danger," Elen also stood, calmly facing the knight, "Can you decide what you're willing to give up?"

...

Thirk Castle nights were always bitterly cold, even before winter, with fires lit early in the rooms. Scott sat with arms crossed at the bed's edge, lost in thought, oblivious to the quarrels below.

Lydia was furious. For a moment, she seemed to seriously consider hurling a fireball at him and Elen. The dwarf said nothing, just kept tugging at his beard, while Nyar looked on bewildered, as if he hadn't grasped what had happened. And Kalebryn—he wondered if he cared at all.

A knock sounded on the ancient wooden door, but Scott couldn't muster the will to move.

"It's open," he called.

The door creaked open, but the visitor didn't enter.

Scott looked up to see Elen leaning against the doorframe, holding up a small vial.

"Just here to wake the little one up; he's been asleep a bit too long," he explained.

Scott stood aside, watching Elen dab the liquid under Isty's nose.

"Don't worry, it won't harm him," Elen tucked the vial back into his belt pouch, sighing at Scott, "I suppose I'm no longer the most welcome guest at Thirk Castle?"

"Why do this?" Scott asked, "If you didn't want me following you, you could've just told me..."

"Scott, this is your choice."

"You didn't leave me much choice," Scott muttered, feeling betrayed, abandoned, with no outlet for his frustration, no one to blame, just a sense of powerlessness.

Elen was silent for a long while before he simply ruffled the young man's tousled golden hair.

"Take care of yourself and the little one," he said, "If anything unusual happens, summon us, or go down to the village and find Delian."

That unfamiliar name made Scott pause. Elen offered no further explanation, turning to leave.

"You're always welcome here, Elen Carvo," the young man said softly.

Elen waved a hand with a smile, not looking back.

Scott stood still for a while until the boy in the bed's blanket began to stir.

He approached, hands braced on the bed, smiling at his bewildered brother, "Hey, Isty, did you sleep well? You really slept for quite a while."

The boy looked at him silently, his timid eyes heartbreaking.

A wave of indescribable guilt silenced Scott—Elen was right; he had never been a competent brother, leaving Isty alone in the castle, unattended for the most part. He didn't know why the little boy still trusted him so completely, relied on him as if he were his only kin, bound by blood.

If he ever learned the truth...

Scott bowed his head, placing a slightly uneasy kiss on the boy's forehead, quelling the panic rising within.

Even if it was self-deception, he couldn't bear to think about that now.

Isty reached out, wrapping his arms tightly around Scott's neck, burying his head in his shoulder.

"I'll be good," he whispered after a while, his voice muffled with sobs.

Scott lifted the boy into his arms, gently patting his back, "You've already been good, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have locked you up."

"I'll be even better," the boy insisted, murmuring against the young man's shoulder.

"That's good, Isty, that's very good..."

Scott could only whisper in return, holding the small boy even tighter.