Along the coast, northwest of where the great ship had fallen long ago, a forest of crimson leaves and mahogany wood covered the land. This forest was relatively new in the world, having sprung up nearly two decades prior, and was still radiating with the energy that had created it. For this reason, it remained mostly isolated from most beasts and people. Some creatures lived there, but few would ever be seen and none were wholly of the world.

The air was filled with a constant heat that was not natural for its climate. It was still, humid, and teetered on the edge of comfort. It coated everything under a thick canopy that towered over more than twice an adult’s height. The leaves there soaked in the sun’s rays, until they began to emit a dim golden glow that would last well into the night. But even when enjoying this sight from beyond the forest’s edge, many would speak of feeling “the gaze of the light” from the still and silent wood. This was to be expected, as the forest was a fresh Memorial. The last battleground of the last imperial war.

So it would have caused quite the panic if anyone had seen the small curled figure materialize in the air, before being lowered down to the still water’s edge.

Smaller than a lion cub and coated in scales that played with the light on the water, it slept like it had fallen asleep beside its mother. Its body shone from white to silver, with shifting hatches of gray and black. Two small pairs of platinum horns curved upward from the back of its skull, matching the saw-like spines that trailed down its spine to a tail pointed with a curved blade. Resting on its back was a set of wings too weak to use, but had stark white membranes that mostly blanketed its body.

Many would see this creature as an infant dragon, a hatchling by all accounts, who continued to sleep comfortably despite its unusual arrival. The water behind it began to stir unnaturally before erupting into a wave that crashed over the new arrival. When the water receded, it began to groan.

Slitted eyes opened for the first time. They shone the same blue as a clear day with slitted black voids for pupils engulfed amber flames that flickered to a deep violet before settling back. Even as the hatchling roused itself, its body continued to shift outside of its notice. The color of its eyes, the shades of its scales, the very makeup of its joints, muscles, and even bones. Each piece of its body down to the smallest level, searching for what it would consider a natural state. Then it stopped, all settling on what appeared to be the design of what it had woken up as, at least on the outside.

It stretched, scratched itself, and rose to its full, minuscule height. It looked up and down the long, peaceful coast before yawning. It turned around and saw the vast sea that stretched beyond the horizon. It blinked, then turned back to the forest.

The only thing that was on the small creature’s mind was a hunger that gnawed in its core, though it hardly identified this sensation. It sniffed, catching something that cut through the scent of saltwater and provoked more hunger. It was something sweet.

The hatchling moved with hesitation at first, steadily planting one foot in front of the other before gaining a rhythm. It built this rhythm until it began bounding towards the tree cover, only to trip over a large root that hid behind the red foliage. It rolled forward, back spines digging into the soft dirt as it landed with wings spread.

It blinked up at the crimson leaves, surprised, but then caught the scent again. Getting back up, it continued forward, more carefully this time. As it did so, the dragon began to hear something, a sound that grew with the scent. It was deep, warm, and hummed with a somewhat random melody, as if a giant was recalling a tune during a morning routine.

The hatchling was happy to listen.

Eventually, it came to the source of these things. A place where the trees parted from one another, all giving space to one tree. It was shorter than those that surrounded it but was far larger than any one of them. Its bark was as white as the hatchling’s wings, with twisting branches that seemed to snake through one another around the limbs before coming out and down into a slope. Bright blue buds in various stages of development lined their undersides, those closest to the trunk being the least developed. It was the end of the branches that held the hatchling’s prize. They were crowned in azure leaves and shimmering with such heat that it finally noticed a temperature change.

Shining golden apples, each hanging several feet in the air and flooding it with that same sweet scent.

As for the hatchling, it approached slower than it had before. The heat was intense at first, but something in its body began to react to the experience. To the dragon, it felt as if something both invigorating and burning had erupted from its core like sprouts from a seed. It dug itself through the tiny thing’s form before halting right below its scaled skin. While it surprised the dragon to be sure, it was not an unpleasant sensation. In addition, the heat was once more at a comfortable level upon its completion. Even as it stood on its legs and began to jump uselessly at the broiling fruit with an open maw, all its mouth tasted was something refreshing that was just out of reach. Finally understanding its fruitless attempts, the hatchling turned to the white tree and came to notice something.

The humming had stopped.

It was sure the noise had been coming from the tree before, but now the forest had once more gone silent. However, even this newborn creature could tell that this was not the same silence as on the coast. That had been empty, peaceful. The dragon could feel that this place was not empty. Something, perhaps many things, now watched it.

It blinked, unsure of its next course of action, before its core let out a quiet but low rumble. That had settled the matter.

The hatchling approached the white tree, its sharp tail swishing from side to side as if to wave off whatever may be watching it. When it reached the trunk, it lifted a taloned hand and pressed all four digits into the wood. The claws sunk in easily, finding purchase in the thick bark. With a jump and a desperate swing, its other hand gripped higher. Its back feet hooked in beneath it as a reaction, securing its hold further. It slipped out its lower hand then, bringing a leg up with it, and began to climb.

Steadily the dragon continued up onto the tree, its bark more than strong enough to support the small creature. It climbed up and over the first layer of branches and up the tree’s largest limb. It stretched high, but the young one only saw its goal. Once at the crest of the limb’s slope, it hunkered and skidded down the largest branch.

The hatchling felt a rush as it slid right above the tree cover, its claws tearing through bark and leaves before it tightened its grip. It came to a crashing halt before a large, seemingly ripened golden apple. But before it could claim its prize, there was a crack,

Most of the branch came crashing down, taking both the hatchling and the apple with it, though the small thing barely felt the impact. Instead, when the apple landed before it, there was a flash of light and a high-pitched hiss. It was in an instant, and it didn’t take long to regain its wits and rise. When it did, it saw that the patch of grass around where the apple had landed was now overgrown and lifting the fruit as if in presentation. More importantly, the apple was bruised but intact.

It still radiated the same intense heat, but the hatchling was unconcerned even as sizzling juices dripped from the wound. It grasped the prize with both sets of claws and began eating with a satisfying crunch. The taste was nothing it could describe. A subtle sweetness spiced with a unique kick in the aftertaste. The flesh and juices gave a feeling of complete rejuvenation with each gulp.

The dragon was so engrossed in its meal, in its victory, that it failed to notice the massive amber shape slowly approaching behind it. A massive thing of muscle and fur with paws big enough to crush the smaller creature completely. Its eyes were a royal blue that contrasted the snarling, impossibly white fangs that lined its mouth.

This beast that took the shape of a bear was a Memorial Keeper, and though the hatchling knew nothing of this title or its responsibilities, that did not matter to the Keeper. Not with this sin.

It rose on its hind legs, blotting out what sun could enter around the great tree. Then the tiny thing saw what had found it. The golden beast stared down and the dragon stared back, both waiting to see what the other would do. Then something else broke the silence.

The humming returned, but not in the same content sound as before. This was a deep, emotionless rumble. The hatchling barely heard it at first, but it grew quickly. Soon, it dipped past the point of sound alone and began to vibrate the world around it. The Keeper was reacting now as if it had only just noticed the noise through the sensation. Its massive head stared at the tree in what the dragon understood without comprehending it as confusion.

When it ended, the bear seemed momentarily stunned before looking back down at the hatchling. The keeper stood as if in consideration, but the snarl slowly returned and it raised a massive paw.

The dragon watched the shadowy mass come down and it wondered what the blow would feel like.

The air cracked violently from somewhere in the forest, startling the beast as its head whipped over to look in the noise’s direction. It had only a second before a form appeared between it and its prey.

The intruder appeared human, with golden skin and a messy patch of long brown hair. It was big, almost as big as the bear, and was garbed in auburn leather lined with stark white furs. The shape was born from countless hours of devotion to physical ability and resilience, with small scars of all types scattered across his form. Its amber eyes held a focused gaze that betrayed the primal, crackling golden energy that danced across its body. But on its sculpted, long face was a wild smile.

This was what the hatchling glimpsed in the split-second it had before the human spun on one leg, jumped, and brought down its foot into the Keeper’s neck. The air cracked again as the force drove the bear's pillar-like legs into the ground. Heavy force ripped through its target, spreading through the earth and air before finding the dragon.

The unseen wave cut through the hatchling’s being, drenching it completely. Its sensation flowed through its being before reaching its core. There, it was subconsciously burned into its being.

But the bear, despite its pained roars, was still standing. Its buried legs rose from the earth like it was water, both arms out wide to grab hold of the attacker, but the human was far too fast. It moved down and around its target, all the while delivering nearly unseen thundering close-range punches until it was behind the beast.

The hulking thing stumbled forward, prompting the hatchling to step back more as a spectator would, rather than another possible target. Even before its heavy head rose, the newborn could tell it was no longer focused on it. The massive Keeper whirled back at the human, its snarl having transformed into an epitome of predatorial rage. The dragon was certain its fangs and maw had grown in size.

In response, the human’s smile turned into a full grin.

That was when any intelligence that could be seen in the Keeper’s gaze was lost beneath an eruption of furious golden flames. It lowered itself on all fours, locked its legs back, and launched forward with the loudest sound that the hatchling would hear that day.

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Most creatures in that world wouldn’t have been able to see what happened next. For the newborn’s part, its vision did not operate like any other creature’s in that world. Regardless, the violent experience prompted a violent change. Spiking pain emerged above its enraptured eyes, deep in its skull. It winced, listening as the sound of something massive violently crashing through the brush cascaded through the forest before halting with a heavy thud.

The hatchling looked back up, seeing the human standing with its back turned, facing a fresh trail of ripped earth and shattered brush that stretched deep into the forest. Its fists were on its hips and it stood tall, but the young one could somehow feel an anxious guilt emanating from its rescuer.

“I may have pushed it…” it said like a dragon who had gotten too invested in a game. It turned back to the small intruder, its smile far more restrained now, though still present. “We’ve gotta go,” it said before sprinting towards the hatchling. That was when it noticed the human’s golden aura had faded, leaving it with labored breathing. Despite that, it quickly crossed the distance between them before scooping it up. It didn’t resist, as it had already begun to like the human, but his claws still left shallow cuts on the man’s form. He didn’t seem to notice though.

With the pain ebbing away, it had begun to process what it had seen. In the instant that the bear had charged it, the human’s golden aura grew thick and coated it entirely, creating a white silhouette in a golden flame. The Keeper had been halfway to it by then when the human was suddenly above its lowered head. There had been a single blow then, straight into the top of the charging beast’s skull. Its head met the ground in that instant, its back weight continuing forward, sending the once indomitable guardian spinning hind-over-head through the forest ground. All the while the lightborn figure had bounced from the impact over its target, landing before the power had vanished completely.

The dragon couldn’t guess how long the conflict had lasted, let alone that sliver of time, but it was happy to have seen it all. That was its initial conclusion at least, before the ground began to shake, and a familiar roar echoed from somewhere in the forest.

The human tensed. “How is that thing from the Light?” He asked under his breath before turning away and running. Damn thing is built like it was born in the Dark. The hatchling looked up at its rescuer.

It knew the human hadn’t spoken the last words, yet it had still heard them.

His eyes, now hazel instead of fiery gold, met the dragon’s then, and the smile grew natural again. “I guess introductions are in order,” he said while effortlessly weaving through the crimson trek. His breathing was still labored, but he gained ground quickly. “I’m Naroe, apprenticed to Reil Fordring. Pleasure to meet you!” Eyes that had first opened that morning blinked up at him, and Naroe could feel the intelligence behind them regarding him with interest. It was a small gesture, but both felt joy well up in Naroe at the idea his rescue had been acknowledged.

The ground began to shake then, and that question’s priority fell steeply. The sounds of heavy bounding, crashing, and crushing through brush, were growing louder. All chorused by a constant, reverberating growl.

Naroe glanced back, his free hand reaching into his leathers and pulling out a vial of golden liquid. The white tree was long gone now, but the hatchling could see the now darkened amber mass, its face only twin flaming orbs and shining white fangs. It took two at once, last one has to be for the escape. He tightened his arm’s grip around the dragon and gently scratched its underbelly. His voice was lowered as he popped the cork on the vial, but it was calm and confident. “I got you, don’t you worry.”

The dragon, having not felt any danger through the entire experience, regardless felt the full sincerity and belief in those words. It still had no way to communicate as the human did, so it turned back to the charging beast and simply nodded.

With that motion, an understanding was forged between the two. With that understanding, the newborn entity subconsciously formed a link between their beings. A connection born of taken responsibility and trust that had been acknowledged and accepted by them both.

Naroe felt it as a cold and warm rush from the small creature cradled in his arm. He felt familiar adrenalin begin to beat through his system, mixing with the rush, and the world seemed to slow around him. It wasn’t the same as when he took the Brand Link, the last vial of which was still in his hand. For one, the Keeper was still closing in on him at a speed that left little actual time to think, and he didn’t feel the Light’s bristling intensity. It was this second observation that made him worry about how a dose would affect him in that state. Though, it wasn’t like he had many choices.

But his hand only got halfway to his mouth before something deeper than the Keeper’s growl rippled through the forest. To Naroe and the Keeper, it was purely a vibration that made the human almost drop the vial and the bear brace before coming to a skidding halt. But for the dragon, it was a note. A low, warm, threatening note.

It was followed by another, this one softer, as the air hazed and what little light there was under the shaded canopy was drained. All three felt their skin tingle as quick bursts of lightning trailed through the environment, taking the form of a sharp, foreboding beat in the mind of the hatchling. For the first time, Naroe’s smile dropped into a neutral expression.

At least he’s not angry, his thoughts again echoed in the dragon’s mind.

The crimson leaves of the trees began glowing softly as they began to sing in chorus with the growing power, their voices in harmony within the newborn’s mind. Their sound was that of joyous recognition.

And then it all ended. Silence and light returned to the forest floor, then the brush nearby shifted, and out stepped another human. At least, that was its outward appearance.

It was older and smaller than the other one. Its tanned body was lean, with tightly cut gray hair and stubble on its face. It was decorated in similar clothing to Naroe, though it seemed a fair bit more worn. Its face, while bearing an expression of paternal patience, was fit for a conqueror who had outlived both his enemies and those under him. Blue eyes that carried a gentle but clear authority stared directly into the Keeper’s, which had regained their former intelligence.

“I must apologize, honored Keeper.” Its voice was warm and gentle on the surface, but it sank in on them like chains. “I understand this little one is not meant to be here, but I must ask that you look by this incident and allow us to take it into our custody.” The bear growled but didn’t move. “My deepest apologies once more,” the older human bowed. “I could hear the destruction taking place from the edge of the forest, but I have already deduced my student has only followed my teachings.” Reil motioned to the two in question. “It is both his and my responsibility to secure rare creatures for their safety and the safety of ecosystems they may disrupt. This small dragon is such a creature. I will speak with the Order members stationed here and inform them of what has happened, they will expedite the healing process.”

The bear stared at Reil for a moment before giving its offenders one low growl, then huffed and walked away.

Naroe untensed then and began looking for the cork he had dropped when Reil appeared beside them with its hand. “Thanks,” Naroe said calmly but didn’t meet his gaze.

There was a moment of silence as the younger human resealed the vial and stashed it away. His master stared at him, before moving to the newborn in his arms. It could not read Reil’s gaze, nor could it feel its emotions like with Naroe.

“So how did that start?” Reil asked, his eyes moving back to his apprentice with little visible judgment.

“He was about to bury this little guy, “ Naroe held the hatchling up to Reil, who only blinked at him. “So I had to step in at his defense.”

“You took two doses at once,” Reil recounted as if he had been there while reaching up and taking the dragon. “I could feel how excited you were through the link.” He began to examine the small dragon, his fingers massaging, feeling, measuring. “You had the time of your life fighting that Keeper, short as it was. I have to wonder how much of a priority this little one was to you.” He side-eyed the younger human. “Did you think you could beat it?”

Naroe stuck his hands into his pockets as if he were holstering weapons, his thumbs resting on the outer fabric. “Not at all, I had a plan,” he spoke as if he was recounting a game he had played. “Use two doses to stun the bear, grab the dragon, and then run. Save the last one for if it caught up.”

Reil shook his head. “I can’t imagine you underestimated the Keeper, so I can only assume you overestimated how much of a difference the second dose would have made.” He cradled the small hatchling in his arms. “You would have been better off taking one, grabbing this one,” the older human pet the head of the small dragon, “and running off while taking them to extend the usage. I would have subdued the Keeper when you got to me.” Reil let out an exasperated sigh but his gaze softened. “I understand such an… experience does not come often,” Naroe’s smile returned with the chosen word, “but your power will be different when you receive it.” He smiled then at his apprentice. “Do you really want to grow used to using mine before you even see what your gifts will be?”

Naroe’s amber eyes moved away from Reil’s. “No, I guess I’m just worried.”

Reil gave a chuckle, one far more hearty than his small frame should have allowed. “I know that feeling too well,” he looked to the crimson canopy above them. “So why don’t we head back? I’m finished here and we should get back to the wagon before the sun sets.” He looked back down at the dragon, who had been silently watching the exchange. “Have you come up with a name for him yet?”

Naroe cocked his head. “It's male?”

“Going off the body structure, I’d say so,” Reil responded while gently lifting the dragon to feel underneath it. “However, that’s where the similarities with any other dragon I’ve examined end. For one, it’s remarkably docile for one so young.” He brought it back down to his chest. “Two, I have no idea what could be hiding under this hide. Three, I can’t even begin to guess the skeletal makeup in composition or even structure.” Naroe’s grin returned and Reil let it infect him as he looked down at their patiently listening catch. “We’ve found ourselves quite the surprise,” he said before turning back to his apprentice. “So, a name? We can always change it later if we’re wrong.”

His apprentice smiled then. “Well, I found him eating an apple from Tirion’s Tree.”

Reil froze, looking back down at the hatchling. “He seems fine, he was able to eat every part of the apple?”

Naroe nodded. “He could be attuned to light.”

Reil turned back to Naroe. “So Ember? Sora?” He gave another chuckle. “Apple?”

Naroe’s smile widened. “I was thinking White.”

Now it was time for Reil to tilt his head. “White?”

His student nodded. “His scales remind me of Dessian’s tree. Plus,” Naroe counted each point with a hand, “we have no idea where he came from, he’s unlike any dragon we’ve ever seen, and I’m willing to bet he hatched recently.” He rubbed the dragon’s head. “All that makes him a blank white slate.”

His master matched his smile and then turned back to the dragon. “Well?”

In truth, the hatchling felt little about the concept, but something told it a name would be helpful, so it nodded.

“Beautiful,” Naroe grasped the newly named White and took him from Reil. “Hopefully you don’t take too long to grow, traveling’s going to be much easier once you’re big enough to ride.”

The older human rolled his eyes. “What makes you sure you’ll be able to have him as a mount?” Naroe said nothing as he walked through the redwood, so Reil continued. “What makes you think he’ll bond with you?”

“Because he already has,” Naroe replied cooly.

For the first time that day, White was startled. There had been no noise, no rush of air and force like with Naroe and the keeper, the old human was just now standing before them as if he hadn’t moved at all. And unlike with the bear, White felt no reaction in his body. This discrepancy frustrated him, but he didn’t understand why.

From the outside, this appeared as his head jolting back upon seeing Reil, followed by the clenching of his jaw.

Naroe, however, took Reil’s action in stride even as he stared at his apprentice with a skeptically cocked eyebrow. “Care to explain?”

“I felt it when the keeper was charging us,” Naroe responded casually. “He gave me power in that moment. Not a lot, but I’m sure I felt something.”

Reil stared at him for a moment. “I believe that you believe he’s bonded to you. But Naroe, you don’t have a branding yet. Even if White is attuned to light, even if he was a Lightborn incarnate, there’s nothing for him to connect to to form a bond.”

“I don’t think it was like that though,” Naroe insisted. “This felt different.”

“How?”

Naroe paused, attempting to piece his answer together carefully. “There were traces of what felt like light,” he hesitated as he looked back down at the now-calmed dragon. “But instead of that raw fire that gets poured in from outside, White dug in underneath and ignited what was already there.” His eyes returned to Reil’s. “Maybe it’s not a traditional bond, but it's something.”

Reil’s expression remained unchanged for several seconds. “If he has somehow made a connection to your soul, I feel I should be concerned. However…” his blue eyes turned gold then, and White saw the air shimmer once more between them. “I haven’t sensed any hostility from this little one or anything wrong with you. Still, I don’t see a connection either. If there is a bond, it is beyond my senses.” His eyes reverted to their usual, calming color. “With any luck, his Majesty will have the time to examine him personally. We can decide what to do with him then.” Reil’s smile returned. “In the meantime, you can take responsibility for him.” His gaze moved again to the dragon. “Though I wonder how long you’ll have before it starts being the other way around.”

Naroe snorted and walked by his master. “You say that like I can’t look after myself.”