Hikari had almost forgotten how it felt to hear Doomwing tell a story. As a little girl, she had often badgered him for tales. Dreamsong had told her stories too, of course, but Doomwing had known different stories, and Hikari had wanted to hear as many as she could. More than once, she had snuck out of her chambers and made her way to where the dragon rested, which was usually in the lake or the nearby countryside.

Never once had she worried that some misfortune might befall her. To her, Doomwing had been a force of nature, and his presence was synonymous with safety. Each time, he had feigned sleep, only opening those golden eyes of his when she was either about to try swimming across the lake or climbing up onto his snout.

He would not chide her for sneaking out. Instead, he would ask her if she had prepared appropriately. Had she put on the right shoes? Had she brought a cloak? Had she brought some way to defend herself? She had always huffed and pouted, insisting that she would be fine. As long as he was nearby, what did she have to fear? Nevertheless, she usually ended up following his advice, if only to stop him from badgering her.

Only later had she realised what he was trying to do. He would not always be there to protect her, but the habits he'd helped her develop would remain – and they had saved her life on several occasions. But by then, she'd been much older, and he had no longer been around for her to thank.

It was much the same for the stories he told. As a girl, she'd found them captivating. Like Dreamsong, he was so very, very old. He had seen the best and worst the world could offer, and his stories were as much about far-off places and strange people as they were about familiar problems that were common across many groups throughout the Ages.

Yet there had been lessons in those stories too, and she had not understood all of them as a child. But he had known – as he always seemed to – that her inquisitive mind would never forget those stories, that she would hold them dear to her heart and look to them for comfort when the world grew cold and hope dimmed. Only then would she understand those other lessons, only then would she realise the wisdom a woman grown might gain from fanciful tales spun to amuse a little girl.

And as with his other advice, by the time she realised the value of what she'd been taught, he was no longer there for her to thank.

But he was here now, and warmth filled her heart as the familiar words of the story left his lips. She knew the story perfectly, for she had relived the memory of it countless times. She was older now, and she could see the great weariness within him that her younger self had always missed, the inescapable weight of Seven Ages that could wear down the strength of even the broadest shoulders.

But she saw the strength in him too, not the strength her younger self had envied – the claws and teeth that could rend mountains, the flame that could burn the world, and the wings that could span the sky. No. She saw the true strength that dwelt within him, the strength that had let him weather all the long and broken years of the world, all the seasons of grief and loss that rolled one into the other until only an endless winter remained, so cold it could quench even a dragon's fire.

But not Doomwing's fire.

The fire within him would burn until the end of the world itself. It would waver at times. It would falter. He was not a god, no matter how powerful or wise he had become. But his fire would endure, a flame fed by the sacrifice of Seven Ages, a flame worthy of the greatest dragons of the First Age, those long-dead titans who had been mighty when even Doomwing himself had been small.

Against all the suffering and sorrows of the world, against all the storms of fate and chance, against the gathering shadows and the rising waters, still that flame would burn, a light in the darkness, a lonely voice challenging the world to do its worst, a mountain splendid and unyielding, a sapling grown into a tree that bent but never broke, rising up and up until at last it bridged the heavens and the earth.

When Doomwing finally finished the tale, Hikari closed her eyes and savoured the last of his words.

"When I was a girl, I thought the story was simply about two friends who were happy to see each other again after a long time."

"And what do you think now?" Doomwing asked.

"That there is more to the story." Hikari's mind drifted to other nights like this, to hours spent on the shore with a campfire burning, her parents on either side of her, and her friends arguing good naturedly about matters great and small. "The scholar and general were close friends, yet they disagreed on so many things."

"The scholar had no great love for war and wished for a world where it did not exist. The general felt most alive on the battlefield and longed for one last war to give him the death he desired – a death of glory and honourable sacrifice before sickness and old age could rob him of his strength."

"And still they were good friends." Hikari smiled faintly. "I used to think that friends would always agree, but the older I got, the more I realised that wasn't true. A true friend need not agree with you on every matter. Indeed, I would like to believe that a true friend would be willing to tell me when they thought I was wrong and to offer wise counsel."

"And yet there are matters in which right and wrong are not so easy to define," Doomwing replied. His gaze weighed heavily upon her, and she felt almost like a little girl again, for what was the wisdom of a thousand years to someone who measured their life in Ages? "Matters of fact can often be settled easily, but matters of the heart, of conscience and philosophy, are rarely so simple." He stared across the water to the city. "I once asked your father what he would do if he came across a group of people who wished to cross the ocean in a ship that was no longer seaworthy. He said that he would offer them advice, and if they refused to take it, then he would stop them. He would protect them from themselves."

"You would not have done the same?" Hikari asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. If my advice was ignored, I would have left them to their fate. They were not sworn to me, nor were they my friends or allies. Whatever care I might have owed them was given when I offered my advice. If they wish to be fools and ignore it, then let their fate serve as a lesson to others. Ignorance, I have found, can be cured with knowledge, but no amount of wisdom can ever fix stupidity."

Hikari's lips curled. It was such an utterly draconic way to view things. And yet, she could understand his point of view. How many times must he have offered aid and advice only to be ignored by those who later beseeched him for help? He was not heartless, but he was no font of mercy and compassion. Even he could only do so much, so why not save his strength for those who actually heeded his advice and had the wisdom to do better in the future?

"My father was always so kind-hearted," Hikari said. "My mother loved that about him – that he could be so strong and yet so gentle. Yet she also thought him hopelessly naïve." Her gaze grew sombre. "If he had been a little more hard-hearted, then perhaps the strife that followed his death could have been averted."

"And yet, if he had been more hard-hearted, he would never have sought me out or given your mother a chance."

"It is possible to be friends despite seeing the world in very different ways," Hikari said. "That is one of the lessons of the story. Despite their different views, the scholar and the general still trusted and respected each other. They were friends not despite their differences, but…"

"Because of them." Doomwing shifted, a mountain of red and blue scales reminiscent of an island at rest in the water. "Let me tell you another story then."

"Is it one that I've heard before?"

"No. It is the story of a tiger-man who became a monk."

"A tiger-man?" Like kitsune, tiger-people were considered beast-people. However, unlike kitsune, tiger-people were far less able to blend in with humans. They had tiger heads and clawed hands and feet, and their bodies were covered in fur. They were often tall and powerfully built, and they had long held a reputation as fierce and uncompromising warriors.

"Long ago, in the Fifth Age, when the lands of the beast-people were at their mightiest, there were many warring kingdoms. Amongst them was a kingdom ruled by tiger-people. They were great warriors, and they looked upon the flourishing fields, bustling marketplaces, and rich mines of their neighbours and were filled with envy. Why should they, the greatest warriors in the land, not seize these things for themselves? To them, a person only deserved to have what they could seize and hold with their own hands. If their neighbours could not defend what was theirs, then they did not deserve to have it in the first place."

Doomwing gave a low rumble. "And so the tiger-people went to war. Their victories were swift and numerous, and their enemies fell before them like leaves falling from the trees in autumn. Revelling in their triumph, they forgot their honour. They slew those who had surrendered, cut down civilians without care, and even devoured their enemies to slake their ever-growing thirst for blood and power. But the actions of the tiger-people did not go unchallenged. Other kingdoms united against them, and a great coalition formed. Amongst them were other tiger-people from different kingdoms. They had not forgotten their honour, and they were disgusted by what their fellows had become. The alliance marched on the wicked tiger-people and crushed them in battle."

"The rulers of the wicked tiger-people were dragged from their palaces to be judged," Doomwing said. "The king, the queen, and all the princes and princesses were brought before a council of their enemies. They were sentenced to death, and even as they were taken to the fields of judgement to be slain and then left out for the vultures and crows to pick at, they refused to repent. Instead, they roared their defiance, swearing vengeance upon their enemies and calling on their people to rise up against their foes. Only one amongst them did not roar and thunder and curse. Instead, he wept."

"He wept?" Hikari asked. Tiger-people were famously brave, some would say to the point of stupidity. The kitsune rarely dealt with them, perhaps because of how much the kitsune favoured covert action and intrigue over brute force. "Was he a coward?"

"No. He was no coward. From the crowd, an old crow-man stepped forth. He was so old that his feathers had turned grey, and his once keen eyes were almost blind. He was the abbot of a monastery, and he asked the prince why he wept. Was he afraid? But the prince shook his head. He was not afraid. He was ashamed. He was ashamed that when his family and his people had given in to their madness and bloodlust, he had not spoken up. He had said nothing and had done nothing to stop them."

Hikari bit back a wince.

"The abbot pointed out that the prince was only one person. What could he have done? He was only the fifth prince. He would have been throw in prison, exiled, or killed for disobeying his father, and his people would have viewed him as a traitor. The prince replied that at least he would have kept his honour."

"What became of him?" Hikari asked. The worst cut close to home.

"The abbot asked the executioner to stay his blade, saying that no sword in the world could ever cut so deeply as regret. The prince begged the executioner to strike, so he could be free of the guilt that weighed so heavily upon him, but again, the abbot bade the executioner to halt. What good would slaying the prince do? His family was all dead, and his kingdom was in ruins. What harm could he cause if he lived? Even a fool could see that he no longer had the desire to wage war or harm others. But if he was spared, then perhaps he could begin to make amends."

"The abbot was a merciful person," Hikari said.

"He was an old crow-man with too much time on his hands," Doomwing replied. "But he was wise in his own way. Because the abbot was held in high regard, the council gave the prince to him, telling him to make the prince a monk. At the very least, he could spend the rest of his life praying for the souls of the dead. And so the abbot took the prince back to his monastery. It was a peaceful place, built at the foot of a mountain near a lake not so different from this one. The monks there were scholars and healers, and they were welcome in many kingdoms. They asked no payment for their aid, seeking only food and lodgings to tide them over while they healed and gave what counsel they could. They were also famous for their vow to never take a life, with the sole exception being for food, for there were those amongst them, like the prince, who needed to eat meat to survive."

Doomwing gazed southward. "The prince stayed there for a long time. In keeping with the traditions of the monks, he set aside his old name and took up a new name. They called him Brother Tiger, for he alone, of all the monks, was a tiger-man. Brother Tiger learned from the abbot himself, and he grew skilled in the arts of healing and became a scholar of renown. Although many looked down upon him because of his bloody past, he worked tirelessly to help others. Many were those he healed, and many more received wise counsel. In the land around the monastery, Brother Tiger was much loved, for he turned away none who needed his aid and never held himself above others. Yet the ache in his heart remained, and the weight upon his shoulders never seemed to lessen. At last, he went to the abbot and asked him what he needed to do to be free of his burden."

"What did the abbot say?" Hikari asked. It was not mere curiosity that drove her to ask the question. She knew well how Brother Tiger must have felt.

"The abbot praised Brother Tiger's efforts, but he reminded him of the words he had once spoken. No sword in the world could ever cut so deeply as regret. Those that Brother Tiger had wronged the most were all dead. They could not grant him the forgiveness he sought. But above all, Brother Tiger could not forgive himself, and so the weight upon his shoulders would only grow."

"Guilt," Hikari murmured. "Does not lessen with time. If anything, it grows ever sharper."

"The abbot told Brother Tiger to wander the land. He had spent his years since being spared in the monastery or helping those in the lands nearby. Only further away would he find his answer. But the abbot warned him to be careful. Brother Tiger would see many evils in the world, and his heart would be moved to take action. He should remember the vows he took when becoming a monk and strive to uphold their ways, but he must also remember that to act was to make a choice… but to do nothing at all was a choice as well. Those words cut deeply, for it was his failure to act that Brother Tiger most regretted."

Doomwing smiled faintly. "And so Brother Tiger went out of the monastery and began to wander. He did good deeds where he could, healing and counselling and offering what aid he could to whoever might need it. Many years had passed since the war his people had fought, so there were few left who still remembered who he had been. Besides, he was much changed. He was no longer a young tiger-man. His once bright fur had dulled with age, and his once powerful frame had grown lean and almost frail. He was old, and it amused him that the abbot – who had already been old when he had asked for hm to be spared – was still leading the monastery. Before leaving, he had joked that the abbot might actually outlive him. The abbot had smiled, but it was a bitter smile, for even the eyes of a half-blind crow see far."

"Brother Tiger wandered for quite some time before he met a dragon. On a rainy day, Brother Tiger came to a broken bridge. The dragon had warned the townsfolk many times that it was in need of repair and maintenance, but they had ignored his words despite having more than enough money to fix it. Now, they beseeched the dragon for aid, begging him to use his magic to restore the bridge, lest their livelihoods be affected."

Hikari blinked. "You were that dragon, weren't you?"

"I was. Brother Tiger, being more compassionate than me, entreated me to fix the bridge. He did not come as a beggar but offered me a trade. He would pass on some of the wisdom and knowledge he had acquired from the monastery and during his travels. I had heard of him and knew him to be a scholar of repute, so I agreed. I will not say that his wisdom and knowledge impressed me. Indeed, I disagreed quite vehemently with some of his opinions. Yet Brother Tiger not some fool who merely parroted the words of others. He had thought deeply on these matters, and he chose to stand his ground, arguing against me and interrogating my own thoughts." Doomwing chuckled. "I still thought he was wrong, but I was impressed by his intellect. He wished to travel through the lands beyond the bridge, and I decided to accompany him, if only so we could continue speaking. It would not do for such an esteemed scholar to leave with the wrong opinion."

Hikari bit back a smile. Doomwing could be quite argumentative when the mood took him, and he could be relentless when arguing for a position he favoured. More than once, she'd fallen asleep to the sounds of him and Marcus arguing, only to awaken and find them still arguing the next morning. It had been oddly soothing, like listening to the waves lap against the shore.

"We travelled together for years, and somehow or another, we became friends." Doomwing's gaze drifted south again. "We had many adventures although I did most of the work. And although I thought he was wrong about many things, I will say that I always enjoyed our discussions. I have always found the company of fools to be grating, even if they agree with me. Far better to share the company of a proper scholar, even if he happens to disagree. He would go from place to place, learning what he could and offering aid to those who needed it. We would discuss what he learned and observed, and he would take notes. He found my thoughts fascinating – as well he should – and he wished to share them with his fellow monks."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"But he disagreed with you, right?"

"Oh, yes. He disagreed with many of my thoughts when it came to matters of conscience and philosophy. But he respected the fact that I sought to defend those thoughts with reason rather than flame, and he said himself that having to defend his own thoughts from me helped further refine his understanding and bring him closer to enlightenment." Doomwing chuckled fondly. "That fool. I used to tell him that if he wished for enlightenment, he need only ask me, and I would provide it."

Hikari could almost picture it: an old tiger-man sitting by a fire while a massive dragon loomed over him, a living mountain sheltering him from the wind and rain as they argued happily over philosophical minutiae.

"Those were good days," Doomwing said. "Magic has always been my first love, but I never realised how much I had learned of philosophy and other such matters until Brother Tiger asked me about them. It reminded me of the Third Age when a friend of mine asked me what it was like to fly. I could barely described it to him because I had never given it much thought, yet seeking to put it into words helped me to understand it better and made me a more skilled flier. But those good days… they came to an end."

"What happened?"

"The Fifth Catastrophe. Fools who should have known better – some of whom I had already warned – called a great evil to this world from beyond the Greater Darkness. The Exiled Star. Ask Dreamsong about him if you wish to know more, but do not seek out even the faintest memory of him in the dreaming lands. As powerful as you have become, even a memory of him would be dangerous for you to face."

Hikari shuddered. She had heard of the Exiled Star in passing, but Dreamsong had never spoken of him much, saying only that he was a foe of terrible power who would have destroyed the world if not for the combined efforts of the primordial dragons and their allies. Hikari's mother had become the Sixth Catastrophe, and yet the way Dreamsong spoke of the Exiled Star, it was clear the dragon thought he was the stronger of the two, and by no small margin either.

"There were those who worshipped the Exiled Star like a god, and with his aid, they summoned other horrors to our world. Some could be dealt with by the beast-people, but others were far beyond them. One day, I went to confront one such horror. I told Brother Tiger to retreat to safety and await my return. He promised me that he would, but I later learned that he lied." Doomwing's smile was bitter yet proud. "Instead of fleeing, Brother Tiger went to aid the people of a nearby town. When I returned from my battle, I searched for him. I could not find him, and the town was in ruins. Eventually, my magic led me to the mountains where townsfolk were fleeing to seek refuge in a neighbouring kingdom. I had hoped to find Brother Tiger amongst them."

"But he wasn't, was he?"

"No. The townsfolk came to me with a book full of notes that my friend had taken of our discussions, as well as the robe he normally wore, the one that marked him as a member of his order. I asked them what had happened, and they told me. The town had been overrun by the followers of the Exiled Star. They had fled as best they could, with Brother Tiger leading them through the mountains. But with the children, the old, and the sick, they could not outrun their pursuers. Rather than leave them behind, Brother Tiger had told them to go on while he went back to hold the mountain trail for as long as he could." Doomwing growled. "He was no fool. In his youth, he had been a great warrior, yet he was old now and had not fought for many years. He knew he was going to his death. He gave his book to the townsfolk, so it would not be lost."

"And the robe?" Hikari asked. "Why did he give it to them?"

"To buy the townsfolk the time they needed, he would have to break his vow not to kill. To break that vow meant expulsion from the order, and he did not wish to bring shame to the order or the abbot who had been so kind to him by sullying his robe with the blood of his foes. And so he went to face the enemy, choosing a narrow part of the trail to make his stand. He was smiling as he went, or so the townsfolk said, and that was the last time they saw him."

"He was already dead by the time you got there," Hikari said. "Otherwise, you would easily have sensed his presence."

"Yes. I went to the place where he had fought, and I found his body. I could barely recognise it, so great were the wounds he had taken. Yet there was a smile upon his lips and no wounds upon his back. Even at the end, he did not seek to flee. Instead, he put his back to solid stone and fought until his body failed him, for I know that his spirit would never have faltered." Doomwing's jaw clenched. "The trail was blocked by the bodies of the dead, so many had he slain, and so fierce was he that those who lived fled rather than try to force the trail again. I took wing and scoured the land of the enemy. And then I took the body of my friend, along with his book and robe, and flew to the monastery."

Doomwing hissed. "I raged as I flew. Why had he not fled when he had the chance? I had told him to flee. Why, of all times, had he chosen that moment to ignore my words? Why had he chosen to die for people he barely even knew? And why had he died alone? Those cowardly townsfolk were unworthy of his courage. There were young men amongst them with strong backs and stout arms, so why had he died alone? Why had not a single one of them gone with him? My friend died alone saving those who had done nothing to deserve his sacrifice! It was only later, as I drew close to the monastery, that I looked at his book. There, at the end, he had written one last thing, not about our discussions, but to me."

Doomwing took a deep breath. "I will not speak the exact words he wrote, for those belong to me and me alone. But he wrote of his great regret, how all his life his failure to act had haunted him. But not this time. This time, he would act. He would forsake even the vows he had taken as a monk to do what he felt was right and regain the honour he had lost so long ago when he had chosen to remain silent and do nothing. He would do what he should have done all those years ago and save the innocent, even at the cost of his own life." Flame kindled in Doomwing's jaws. "That fool! That idealistic fool! He said that he finally understood why the abbot had asked for him to be spared. This was his chance to finally repay the debt from all those lives he had failed to save before. Debt? What debt? How many had he already helped? How many had he already saved? Whatever debt he might have owed had been paid long ago! And still he went with a smile on his face, his heart free for the first time that he could remember, the great weight upon his shoulders gone and replaced with a freedom he had only dreamed of."

Doomwing scowled. "I wanted to hate him for doing that, for going so proudly to his death for people he didn't even know when he could so easily have just waited. If he had only just waited… and yet I could not hate him. He was my friend, and I knew very well how heavily his regret and guilt weighed upon him. This was his chance, perhaps the last chance he would ever have, to cast that weight aside and to be free in heart and spirit. I just wish I could have fought beside him, that he did not have to die alone, that his sacrifice could have been witnessed by someone who could appreciate and honour it!"

Hikari was silent. She understood now why Dreamsong had returned to the dreaming lands in such a state.

"When I arrived at his monastery, I told the abbot what had happened." Doomwing's eyes narrowed into golden slits. "The abbot looked upon Brother Tiger's body, and the grief was clear upon his face. Yet he would not accept the book or the robe, for they had belonged to one who was no longer part of the order, for he had broken his vows. He would not even call him Brother Tiger, for those who were expelled from the order lost their names as well. I was enraged. If the abbot and the monastery had not been so dear to Brother Tiger, I would have burned them to ash. Were they so unbending, so unwilling to understand that they would disregard Brother Tiger's sacrifice? Yet as my rage grew, the old crow-man said something that cooled my wrath."

"What did he say?" Hikari asked.

"He asked me to take Brother Tiger's body, for he was no longer a member of the order. For that same reason, I ought to keep his book and robe as well. And then he said to me that although he had entered the order as a young crow-man and had thus never had any children, if he had never become a monk, then he would have been proud to call Brother Tiger his son. And bowing to me, he said that he wished for me to take Brother Tiger and his things because he knew I would treasure them more than the monastery. In time, he would die, and all those who knew Brother Tiger would pass into the shadow of time and memory. To the monastery, he would become just another monk – a disgraced one who had forsaken his vows. But not to me. I would remain, and I would remember. He also told me that although tiger-men were often burned after dying that monks were usually buried beneath trees to nourish the future in death as they did in life. He said that I could do with that information as I wished, and then he bade me leave the monastery. By the laws of their order, they would not speak of Brother Tiger again, but I was not a member of their order. If I wished to speak of Brother Tiger, then he could not stop me."

"It was the only kindness he could give," Hikari said. "He loved Brother Tiger also."

"I do not think he loved him at first," Doomwing said. "I think he pitied him. But Brother Tiger became a good man, and so the abbot came to love him as the son he could never have. And in the end, for all that the abbot could never honour the choice Brother Tiger made, he could still give Brother Tiger's body and belongings to someone who would. I found a tree near the bridge where Brother Tiger and I first met, and I buried him beneath it. I remember it clearly, for it was near a meadow of purple hyacinths. I had no interest in flowers beyond their use in alchemy, but Brother Tiger told me they stood for sincerity and regret. I thought it fitting that his resting place should be where he could see them, for his regret had at last given way to sincerity."

"Is that tree still around?" Hikari asked quietly.

"It survived the Fifth Catastrophe, but I have only been back to it once, and that was during the Sixth Age. There was a village there, built around the tree, and the flowers were all gone. But the villagers were smiling and happy, and the tree was ringed with charms. They believed it to be holy, for many who had fallen upon hard times had found safe haven and good fortune after coming to the village and praying beneath its boughs."

"Did he become a guardian spirit?" It was possible that some fragment of the monk's spirit remained.

"No. But there was a blessing upon the land. It was not there when I buried him, but it was there when I returned."

Hikari bowed her head. "Thank you for telling me about Brother Tiger."

"He loved to tell stories," Doomwing said. "He believed it made it easier for people to learn. Do you know why I told you?"

Hikari could think of several reasons. "I can see the parallels."

"You could not have stopped your mother. You were too young and too weak. She would have enslaved you like all the others. But you did not join us either."

"I did not." Hikari's fists clenched. "I wish I had been able to."

"She was your mother," Doomwing replied. "And your decision is one I can understand, even if it is not the one I would have made. Ask Dreamsong about it. Tell her that I permit you to know."

"Do you hate me?" Hikari asked. Even now, she did not fear Doomwing. Was that foolish? Perhaps. But there was a part of her that would always remember the security his presence provided, the absolute trust a silly, little girl had in a dragon who could have crushed her with less than a thought but who had never once harmed her.

"No." Doomwing stared at her. "Looking at you now, I understand the words the abbot spoke. Nothing I could ever say or do to you would ever cut more deeply than the regret you feel. What need have I to punish you when you are doing that yourself? Tell me, did Dreamsong speak truly of what you intend for the kitsune?"

She nodded fiercely. "I mean to bring them back into the world, but I have devoted everything I have to making them better. We are not the kitsune of the past. We come seeking friendship and cooperation. I mean to carry on my father's dream – peace and prosperity. We would stand with others as equals, not rule over them as conquerors."

He stared at her and into her, and she knew she was being weighed and judged. "I am no monk. Mine is not a heart filled with mercy. Yet Brother Tiger was one of the finest friends I ever had, and it was mercy that allowed me to meet him. The abbot gave him another chance, and his faith was repaid in the end. I will give you and Dreamsong another chance." Doomwing bared his teeth. "But there will not be a third. I am a dragon, not an old, meddlesome crow-man."

Hikari felt some of the weight she had carried for so long slip off her shoulders. "Thank you."

"There is something I wish to give you. I would have given it to you long ago, but I was in no condition to give it, and you were not here to receive it."

The space beside Hikari shimmered, and something appeared. Her eyes widened, and she reached out, scarcely able to believe what she saw. It was a banner of green and gold, and upon it were a crossed sword and ploughshare.

"This is…"

"The King's Banner – the banner of High King Elerion." Doomwing's voice grew wistful. "You never met her, but his mother was a skilled seamstress. When he was first crowned king, he asked her to make it for him, and it was carried into every battle he fought thereafter."

"Uncle Valerius carried it," Hikari whispered. "Father asked him to retire, but he insisted, saying he would carry it until he was no longer able."

"Yes. He was one of your father's oldest friends and a cobbler's son. Before your father became king, Valerius would often accompany him on his adventures. When your father became king, he asked Valerius to carry it because there was no one he trusted more to ride at his side."

"I thought it lost," Hikari murmured. "I was there at the end of the battle. I could not bring myself to approach you or Uncle Marcus, but I saw my father, and the banner was not with him."

"Valerius was amongst the last of your father's men to fall. By then your father was blinded, and his sword and armour were already broken. Valerius held the banner high until he too was felled, and when he fell, it was trampled into the muck and blood by the enemy. Your father fought to reach the last place he had heard Valerius's voice, hoping against all hope that his old friend was merely wounded and not dead. But never again would he hear Valerius's voice, and it was there that he fought, at the side of his dead friend and his trampled banner, until he met his own death."

Tears prickled at the corners of Hikari's eyes. She should have fought at her father's side. She would likely have died, but still, would that have been such a bad death? But she had stood by and done nothing. Leading the kitsune properly was the only atonement she could make.

"I was in no state to retrieve it afterward, and neither was Marcus. Later, it became difficult to find because the whole battlefield became a scar upon the world, one that has yet to fade. Yet Marcus eventually retrieved it. It was in a wretched stated, but I was able to restore it. I had considered returning it to one of your father's descendants, but from what little I learned in my moments of waking, none of them were worthy of it. Yet I am awake now, and you are here… the last of my old friend's children."

"I…"

"Take it," Doomwing said. "It is yours by right, but remember this… it was your father's strength that made the kingdoms kneel, but it was his dream that inspired them to follow. You have the strength to rule the kitsune. Make sure that it is a worthy dream they follow, not a nightmare."

Hikari took the banner and held it to her chest. She had seen it so many times before. Her father had even allowed her to hold it a few times. How valiant he had looked in his armour and upon his horse with his banner flying high beside him. He had seemed utterly invincible, as if he could face all the evils of the world and drive them off. The banner was back in her hands again, and a sense of loss swept over her. Her father was no longer there to offer his advice, comfort or praise. He was dead… but his dream could still live.

She looked at Doomwing. This was a gift and a warning, a promise and a plea. The words came to her, and it felt right to speak them. "I swear it. So many dreams were broken at the end of the Sixth Age. Never again."

She raised the banner high, and the breeze caught it. For a moment, she was a little girl again, and anything in the world was possible. The moment passed, and yet the feeling lingered. If a farmer's son could become a king, then who was to say they could not find a brighter future?

Her mother had tried to seize that future, and she had been willing to bind the world to her will to do so. But her father had tried to lead the way in the hope that others would follow. Her mother had always said that Hikari was a lot like her father. Hikari had led the kitsune this far. They were good people. She knew it. She just had to give them an example to follow.

"Doomwing," she said. "I would like to meet with your followers."

"What did you have in mind?"

"If my kitsune are to help the people of this world, then it's about time they had a chance to meet them."

"I see." Doomwing nodded. "Very well." His lips curled. "You should probably make time for Marcus too. He will no doubt sulk if you spend all of your time around me."

She chuckled. "He accused me of favouritism many times."

"He was right to do so. I was, by far, the most favoured of your many uncles."