White stared out the window from Avira’s lap as the carriage was pulled through an open steel gate, a crest depicting two interlocked triangles decorating both the long sloped doors. They entered an empty lot that sat near the front of an old three-story building made from the same gray stone as the one that held the teleporter. Four pillars surrounded the main entrance and supported a rounded balcony on the top floor, the building’s wings flanking them decorated with large circular windows and swirling patterns.
The expansive front yard was decorated with circling flowers, the outer layer of black petals shifted into blue, gold, and then white. At their center, a pedestal held the massive stone ends of an axe, hammer, spear, and sword statue digging into its surface, as if they had all struck the same point at its top.
They pulled to the end of a long row of closed stone bays, notably less aged than the building itself, on the outer edge of the lot before stopping. Varen sent a weak pulse from the driver’s seat, prompting the gate to close behind them.
The General disembarked before opening the large set of wooden doors of the closest bay and removing the massive wolf’s straps. He ushered the beast in then, lovingly scratching around its collar and leaving the doors partly ajar, allowing it to come and go as it pleased.
White looked back at the bags that still sat on the floor. He had smelled the cooked fish since it had been brought in, but he could tell that now was not the time to eat. He hadn’t figured this out strictly on his own, his first instinct after Varen had begun driving again had been to dig through them. No, it had been his newly made connection with Avira.
Since his only point of reference was with Naroe, he couldn’t help comparing the two bonds. In that first moment with the apprentice, it had been like something ignited in him. When their bond had formed, that flame had connected with the one inside Naroe and they both grew as a result.
It hadn’t been a fire that had connected White and Avira, but something had grown in him regardless. What that was, he had no idea.
Turning back to the young woman in question, he caught her gaze. She hadn’t looked away from him since the carriage had started moving and he had felt her focus the entire time. He knew she was monitoring everything that had been happening and he felt her mental note-taking now. The door opened and she finally turned away to look at her father.
He was staring at her, his expression blank. To White, the expression didn’t fit his face.
“What?” asked Avira.
“Nothing,” said Varen, before taking the bags and walking towards the entrance of the building.
Avira blinked at White, a small twist of anxiety taking hold around her core. She knew that look on an instinctive level, and now White did too. Her father was waiting for her to explain herself.
How does he already know? The question boiled in her mind before subsiding with a defeated sigh. Of course he knows.
They disembarked, following the long shadow of the General through a set of tall black doors that he held open for them. Inside, crystal lanterns lined around the walls lit up in a gentle gold, allowing White to behold a massive two-floor foyer dressed in the colors of early morning. A spotless grey rug stretched out to exits, hallways, and a splitting grand staircase on the other end.
“I’ll put these in the dining room,” said Varen as he closed the door. “Why don’t you let White come with me and go get changed?”
“Alright,” she turned back to her father. “I take it we’re going to wait for Pop-pop and Naroe, right?”
Varen nodded. “Even if they end up getting food before they get here, I’d like to at least offer dinner before they stay with us.” He hefted both of the massive fabric bags of still-warm food. “We have plenty to share. Why?”
She looked at him and White felt her hardening as she sorted through a narrowing selection of words. “Can we wait until they do before we talk about White?”
Varen wore an unreadable expression for several seconds before answering. “Is there something to talk about?”
Avira frowned and White felt her grow agitated, but her voice and expression only gave the smallest shift. “Dad, please. You had the same look after the Drake incident.”
There was a pregnant silence before Varen spoke again. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“No,” she kept her tone steady, despite the gathering storm behind the walls. “But I wanted to see for myself if I could. And if I could, what that meant.” She clutched White a little closer. “Naroe spent over a day with him in his lap and I’ll be the first to tell you he was in good form. He’s not dangerous.”
Despite having formed a connection with White, Avira did not passively feel it to the degree he did. So she had the smallest hesitation when she felt his legs spring out from her gentle hold. When he landed, he felt her focus on him again, this time even more keenly through their connection.
What are you doing? The words bolted through White, and he flinched from the impact. Avira’s confused but calm visage collapsed, and the hatchling felt her regrets and unspoken apologies like gentle tides.
He turned back to her and she knew he had understood. White was happy to feel her relief when he turned to the waiting General. Varen hadn’t moved and his expression hadn’t changed, but White had his full attention.
The comparatively tiny dragon approached the dark steel mass that was at his eye level, before sitting down and looking up at Varen. The overwhelming difference in stature had him arching his neck far more than he was used to, but the General went to one knee before long. The bags gently thudded beside White as the two continued to stare at each other. In truth, White had no idea what to do in that situation, but he felt that Varen’s attention should be turned to him rather than Avira.
White felt the world grow colder as something pulled at the very surface of his being. It wasn’t like with Poe, that had been methodical, cautious. This was invasive, direct, and merciless. Varen was attempting to dig into the empty void he felt in his senses, but the void gave him nothing. But White’s blazing eyes were a fiery reflection of the ice in Varen’s own.
After a few tense moments, Avira’s father returned his attention to her, looking as if waiting for her to continue.
“He’s just a baby,” she said. “We don’t know what kind and he understands a lot more than he should, but he was still born yesterday.”
Varen rose to his full height once more. “How much do you know?” His voice was low but still even.
“He woke up on the coast outside Tirion’s Grove,” she responded cooly. “He ate from Dessian’s Tree before being attacked by a Keeper and Naroe saved him.” White looked back at her, since he had not shared any of that with her directly, but also did not feel her accessing these memories.
Avira didn’t look at him, but her thoughts sounded through the link. You’re a bit of an open book, but we can fix that later.
Varen sighed, his eyes closing as his shoulders slacked like the bags were suddenly too heavy. “It’s the fact that I know you made it happen.”
Avira blinked. “What?”
“You were ready to try to form your bond the moment you realized Naroe had done so,” he deadpanned at her. “But unlike Naroe, you’ve had experience with mental connections. I know all too well how you’ve learned to protect your mind. If a connection was going to be formed, you’d have to prepare for that.” Avira said nothing, letting her father’s implied meaning hang in the air. “Which means not an hour after I had asked you to be careful, you purposely let an unknown entity into your mind.” Avira opened her mouth but he cut her off. “Child or not, what if the Planes refuse to bless you now because of this bond?”
“Naroe was still able to use Reil’s borrowed power even with his bond!” Avira argued.
“You know that’s not the same,” said Varen, gently shaking his head. “When the Planes choose to bless you, it’s a complete inspection of your being. Having another tied to you will force them to consider that being as well, complicating the process even further.” His expression turned pained then. “I know this morning didn’t go how you wanted, but I worry that you just made things more difficult for yourself.”
Avira kept her composure, but White could feel her bristling deep within. “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t think Pop-pop would have brought him here if he thought it was going to be a problem.”
“And what about what I thought?” Varen’s tone was even, but it cut Avira regardless. Now she looked hurt.
“Dad, please,” she said softly. “I get what you’re saying and I know you're worried, but there have been plenty of records of arcane connections being adopted into the Order. Though, I’ll admit this doesn’t feel like that.”
“I bet it isn’t,” Varen’s voice was low but not hostile. “We would be able to feel it if it was, Avira.” He rested the bags on the floor. “Why did you do it?”
“Everything felt like White needed my help, so I want to help. I can teach him things much more easily now and even understand him to a degree.”
“He already had Naroe,” Varen pointed out.
“Yes, but I think he might need more than Naroe. And I figured that there was always the chance it wouldn’t work.”
Varen looked down at the small dragon who hadn’t moved or looked away from him. “Do you still feel Naroe?”
White nodded.
The dark warrior’s sigh was like a tundra breeze. “I don’t think you’re dangerous, but it doesn’t change that you’ve put my daughter’s future at risk. Though,” he turned back to Avira who still held her gaze with firm resolve. “I don’t think I can really blame you for that.”
White blinked up at him. In truth, the hatchling did not follow the full scope of the conversation, but he understood the gist. He didn’t like it. It didn’t take much searching through the link to see what Avira had been thinking when she had done this.
She had reasoned that the bond would not be strong enough to interfere with the blessing. That was a primordial thing and came with rituals and power. While White couldn’t judge this reasoning for himself, he was inclined to agree based on what he had seen.
However, that didn’t mean she didn’t understand what her father was saying. White was not a simple beast that could be raised in a specific way, she could confirm herself now that his soul was far more complex than that. He could be influenced, but there was a good chance that his affinity towards either Light or Dark could be guessed by now. If anyone could actually see inside his being.
White blinked again, this time in surprised comprehension. See inside his being? Was that what they had been trying to do? Did all humans of the Order do that?
He looked the General up and down, taking in the perpetual void that swirled just beneath the surface of the midnight armor. White wondered just how similar the two of them were in each other's eyes and was suddenly much more annoyed that he was unable to speak directly to the human.
“He wants to talk to you,” said Avira. Both the dragon’s and general’s eyes widened as they turned to her.
“What does he want to say?” asked Varen, his tone much more curious than it had been.
Avira looked back at the hatchling. White knew he had just been wishing for the ability to speak aloud, but now that he had the chance he found himself hesitating on what to say. He decided that he should start with what he knew for sure.
“He says he doesn’t remember anything before waking up on the shore,” Avira spoke like she was reading from a letter, “and that he likes Naroe and I.” White turned back to the shadowing titan, letting her speak for him. “He doesn’t want bad things to happen to either one of us, so he'll do what he needs to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“What about Reil?” Varen asked. “You spent just as much time with him, didn’t you? What if bad things were going to happen to him?”
White blinked and Avira chuckled, prompting a look from her father. “Sorry, I get all of it quickly and am interpreting a little, but he says that he likes Pop-pop too. Though Pop-pop doesn’t seem like he’d need help from stopping bad things from happening.”
Varen erupted into a bellowing raucous of laughter, and it took until he had to stop for a breath to answer. “That’s fair!” He looked down at the hatchling, practically beaming. “That’s good enough for me. When the man himself gets back, we’ll have a real chat about these bonds. But you’ve got both Naroe and my daughter vouching for you with Reil’s passing grade, so make yourself at home.”
“Really?” Avira’s face lit up, her restraint completely cast aside.
“Yeah,” said Varen as he grabbed the bags and approached one of the doors leading out to the left of where they entered. “You went and already made the bond, nothing to be done about that now. Might as well settle in with the situation and figure out the next steps. But first, food. These have to stay fresh until the other two arrive, so I’m going to go take care of that.” He turned back at the door, now wearing a full smile. “You still have to change, but do whatever you want after that. I’ll call you when they arrive.” With that, he left without another word.
White looked back at Avira, who had the biggest smile he had ever seen her with. “Come on, I’ll show you where my room is.”
The hatchling was led up the stairs, and into the opposite wing that Varen had gone into. They continued down a lit hallway, passing by windows White was too small to look out of. The idea of carrying him again rose from Avira’s mind when she realized this fact, but he was able to signal to her that he was fine. He was enjoying stretching his legs.
They came to a room not far from the foyer and Avira opened the door to let White in.
Her room was nearly spotless, which was impressive considering how much was in it. There was a full furniture set cut from ivory wood, including a packed, massive bookshelf that took up an entire wall. Padded chairs sat behind a desk and bureau on the other side, while cushions rested around a table in the middle. A large canopy bed stood between two tall windows, blue drapes tied neatly to their sides. Stuffed toys in the shapes of beasts and birds were scattered throughout the room in purposeful placements, from hanging on the walls to sitting on the sky-blue carpet. In one corner sat a stand holding several types of wooden weapons. Hanging from the center of the ceiling was an eight-point crystal star that spilled out a much stronger light than the soft glow that lit the hallway.
“Take any seat you want,” Avira said as she walked past White. “I won't be long.” She approached one of two doors on the uncovered wall next to her desk and entered what White already knew was a closet. The door beside it was a bathroom. There would be another door inside that connected the two rooms.
White wasn’t sure how much of this information Avira was freely giving him, as it was steadily flowing in through the link. He didn’t remember Naroe ever doing this. If it wasn’t on purpose, did that mean his connection with Avira was different?
The dragon shook his head as he approached one of the large cushions on the ground, when did he start thinking so much? He reached for the soft fabric before pulling back, the image of his claws slicing through the seat flashing in his mind.
That, White knew, had come from himself. He looked up at the table, judging the distance between him and it. He jumped, clearing the tables’ height far more easily than he had been expecting, and reached the height of the chandelier.
In those brief seconds in the air, he stopped himself from reaching for the star, reoriented his body to break his fall, and landed on all fours in perfect weight distribution. The result was a light thud on the ivory table and the smallest of indents where his claws landed.
White blinked, momentarily stunned by both his mistake and subsequent recovery when the closet door opened again.
Avira poked her head out, “Are you okay?” she asked.
White nodded at her, still slightly shaken.
Avira blinked before nodding with an amused smile. “Good, try not to hurt yourself.” Then she closed the door.
White nodded at the door, collecting himself. His body was much stronger than it had been, another change.
The dragon lay on the wood, getting himself comfortable as he waited and let his eyes wander. They inevitably found their way onto the rows of books that made up the other wall. They were organized in some sort of fashion, though White couldn’t tell exactly what.
His eyes slowly trailed down the lines of titles from the top row, there had to be hundreds. He wondered how she got the higher books.
His focus settled on one title in particular; Memorials in Summary. It sat at the beginning of a varying line of similarly styled titles that looked to increase in age. White recalled the same term being used for where he had woken up. It was on the second-tallest row, high above him.
He looked around, but couldn’t find anything that would allow the young woman to reach that high of a row. He locked onto the book again, his mind steadily working through the problem. He could jump high now and could probably reach close to where the book was, but looking at the marks he had already made on the table, he wasn't sure how good of an idea that was.
Something turned on in the bathroom and White heard the sound of running water. He realized he could just wait for Avira.
Several seconds passed before he decided he couldn’t wait for Avira.
But how to reach the book without damaging her things? He stopped in sudden realization and turned to look back at his wings. He hadn’t tried using them yet, and he wasn’t sure why. Something in him had just assumed he couldn’t, but now…
He hopped down from the table, doing his best not to scratch the wood further, and lined himself below where the book sat. Putting just a bit more energy into his leap than he had before, he jumped directly upward. He got just above where the book sat before desperately flapping his little wings. He felt tufts of air graze across his membranes, but he hovered for less than a second before falling straight down.
White broke his fall as he had done the first time and landed with a soft thud. The dragon looked up at the book and tried again. Then again. And again. By the fifth time, he was able to keep himself in the air just enough that he tried to grab the book. He mostly pulled it out, but his grip was too weak for fear of damaging the cover. On the sixth jump, he successfully pulled the book that was half the size of him from the shelf. It landed on his head.
The hatchling blinked, caught off guard but not hurt. Looking over his assailant, he found it to be mostly undamaged. With a heave, he tossed the book onto the table and hopped up with it. He was pleased to see he could do so without damaging the furniture now.
He opened the book and began fanning through the pages. There were a lot of different types; mountains, rivers, old buildings, even sections of ocean. White found it curious that the illustration of a different Order warrior, all brandishing armaments and stances accompanied each image that depicted these places. Near the end, White finally came to what he was looking for. The crimson forest was named in the pages as Tirion’s Grove.
Below the title was a perfect recreation of the forest and the image of a man covered in simple white robes. A head of honey skin rested on a form that would rival Varen Rain’s, with golden eyes burning in a face that could have been carved from stone. Tightly cut silver hair covered most of his head with a beard to match. He stood straight, staring back at the reader as if he had been inconveniently summoned.
A trail of text next to the illustration named him Garret Dessian. He had been a General, though White had no idea how long ago he had served. Some dates marked when he had become an apprentice, when he received his blessing and the times he had distinguished himself. But the hatchling didn’t even know what day it was.
Dessian had primarily been a healer and a very good one at that. Regrowing lost limbs and curing a wide range of illnesses, he even had some success in treating mental ailments. Rising to his position before the Twelfth Imperial War, Dessian led his forces in numerous defenses alongside many seemingly important allies. When the War did return in full, he took to defending the continental front with the bordering tribes. Until finally falling in a last stand that had taken place where the grove now stood.
An enemy force had successfully and discreetly charted out a fleet of ships around the frontlines of the war, bearing a full invasion force past the kingdom’s allies and onto its doorstep. Dessian had been on his way back to the kingdom to rotate the troops under his command when ships were spotted landing on the northern shore.
Rallying the battle-worn soldiers under his command, he led them to deny the Empire its newly gained foothold. The book told of Dessian channeling his light far past his suspected limits for several days, allowing his warriors to fight nearly tirelessly against a force that greatly outmatched them in size and armaments.
When reinforcements were organized and finally arrived at the battlefield, they found that the imperials had been driven back into the sea. The fresh combatants described finding a scene of distant ships bombarding an army of the living dead, Dessian himself having dissolved into nothing more than a star of healing light on the shoreline. It was said that only once the reinforcements started destroying the ships, forcing the shambling fleet to retreat into the turbulent northern waters, did the star fade from the world. Those who had given all they had and more to defend the shore collapsed where they stood then, and were given their last rites where they fell.
Not a year later, the sprouts of the forest began to emerge in place of the fallen, and the bone-white tree of Dessian grew where his star had faded. The Kingdom decreed it as a new memorial and made Garret Dessian a saint. His widow had been asked to name the new landmark, and she gave it the name Tirion. The name of an old hero whose tale she and her husband had loved.
Thinking back on that tree and his efforts to claim an apple from its branches, White suddenly had a much greater grasp as to why that bear was so upset with him. The dragon winced as he recalled the damage he had done to the branches on his descent when he realized the water had stopped running at some point in his reading.
When the door to the bathroom opened, steam poured out from the top of the opening. Avira emerged dressed in baggy midnight blue pants and a simple black top with socks to match. Her hair was still damp, hanging loosely by her shoulders in combed trails, and her eyes were wide at the sight before her. White felt several thoughts churn against one another in the span of only a few seconds as she comprehended the scene.
Did Naroe teach White to read? No, she would have seen that. Did White know how to read before or did he just gain that ability? Is he even reading? What is he reading? How did he get the book?
White, responding faster to Avira’s state than she to the situation, presented his memories to her openly.
Avira paused, taking in the information before instantly coming to a response. She hadn’t stopped pondering her questions but decided she had enough information to move forward. “I wondered why Saint Garret popped into my head,” she smiled warmly as she approached. “What had you interested in the Memorial?”
In truth, White didn’t have much of a reason. He was bored and it was the first thing on the shelf he recognized.
Avira chuckled. “That’s fair,” she bent down under the bed, reaching under its skirt to pull out a rectangular black sheet of stone that rolled on four wheels.
She pressed its long side to the base of the bookcase, there was a muffled thud as it drew itself into an indent in the wood. Avira pressed her finger on the obsidian surface and White felt a different pulse than usual. It came from the device itself as if it was waking up. Sand erupted as if the stone had started to grow sleek, unnatural roots upwards. In a few seconds, they formed a stepping ladder the size of the bookcase.
“I’ll leave it out so you can grab what you want,” said Avira. “Just try to get me before pulling too many out at once.” She looked down at the open book. “What did you think of Saint Dessian?”
White thought he seemed very strong, but something bothered him. That line about an army of the living dead, he didn’t like the description.
“It is a grim picture,” Avira agreed. “But from everything else I’ve read, not inaccurate.”
White looked at her, unsure of how to take that.
“Nothing about how that war went was good, that battle included.” She gave a sad smile, and White felt the churning of a familiar ache deep within her. Familiar, but unlike any he had felt until then. Intimate, but not entirely Avira’s own. “But it was still legendary. This account actually annoys me with how much it doesn’t talk about.”
White, sat back and looked at her, giving his full attention.
Avira took a seat next to him, taking the book in her hands, and slid into the explanation as smoothly as she slid into the chair. “It’s estimated Saint Dessian attacked that shore with little more than four thousand Order combatants. They had sent word about the landing when they first found it, stating that camp was already set and outpost preparations were already on the way. The monarch at the time, Queen Melina, ordered Dessian to set up camps around the landing point but avoid engaging.”
She got up quickly and put away the book before taking out another, moving up and down the latter with experienced ease. She opened the new book to a map that White thought might have been of the world. He could see Tirion’s Grove marked by a dot near the pointed marks of Sanctuary’s Teeth. The mountains stretched from the northern coast to the southern, separating the massive circle that was the eastern Kingdom of Lugataea from the rest of the world.
“This was an escort in the final trek of a month-long journey back to the kingdom from the front lines,” Avira continued, “and Melina knew that it would be a suicide attempt to deny them the position with that force.”
She pointed to the Grove and traced her finger west in the opposite direction of the Lugataea, over a collection of several territories that collectively were somewhat larger than the Kingdom itself. Her trimmed nail stopped at the eastern coast, beyond which lay several islands dotting the ocean. Beyond them, the map ended with the red words “Imperial Territory.”
“In addition, Dessian was on his way back to replenish himself with the Heart of the Kingdom,” explained Avira. “He was still a force to be reckoned with, but he wasn’t at full strength. However, they had received essential supplies on the way back from our allies, so sustaining a camp wasn’t an issue.” She closed the book then, her voice taking on a tinge of regret. “But Melina didn’t realize just how quickly the Empire was able to set up there. Even if she did, they couldn’t organize a force fast enough to engage them. So Dessian asked the weary soldiers with him to make the ultimate sacrifice with him, and they marched.” Her smile grew sad, but White still felt her wrestle with conflicting pride.
“There were some who declined, of course,” she said. “They continued the journey to the kingdom and delivered Dessian’s decision by letter to the Queen. Pop-pop thinks he did that because he couldn’t tell her himself over communion. But the rest went with their General, and with little numbers and less equipment, they threw themselves at the Empire.” Her eyes began to grow distant then and White saw her imagining the battle firsthand as she spoke.
“They spread themselves out to encircle them with Dessian at their center. Every time they fell, he would raise them again and again, until their souls could no longer hold on or they took wounds too great to heal. When Queen Melina herself arrived at the head of a fresh host of order combatants, the last defenders were little more than husks, hunkering down in the remnants of the Imperial fortifications to shield themselves from bombardment. Three hundred souls utilizing bare wisps of what their power had been only days ago.” Avira shook her head. “And the Imperials were too scared of them to even set foot on the shore anymore.”
White stared at her, a silence settling between the two as the hatchling considered his next thoughts. He had a greater appreciation for the event now, that he was sure of, but it left him with more questions. The Empire, these wars, and the Order itself, it all stirred something in him. There was the feeling he had when he first watched Naroe fight, as well as a bit of the feeling from when Naroe and Avira had their duel, but also an ache similar to what he had felt from Avira.
The hatchling shook his head, there was starting to be too much to sort through, and he wondered what should take priority.
Avira’s soft chuckling brought him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, if that sounded like rambling,” she said as she began to pet the dragon. “The Twelfth War was a small obsession for me.”
White wondered what made a “small obsession.”
It was a simple thought, but it followed the path straight to Avira’s core. Something cracked open, for barely a second. But in that instant, White saw the gentle smile of the violet-eyed woman and felt that intimate ache. The dragon looked up at her, hoping his silent apology could be felt.
There was a pause, then Avira let out a quiet sigh. “It’s not a big thing,” she said, recovering with a small but real smile. “Not as big as you knowing how to read for example.” She leaned in, that smile spreading to a point White wasn’t fully comfortable with. “Let’s talk about that.”