Ithan’s eyes lit up as the outlines of houses appeared on the horizon. After months of traveling, he was nearly at the end of his journey. Finally, he could sleep in a nice pile of hay and eat some real cooked food, even if it was technically garbage. His mouth began to water as he pondered the possibilities‍—day-old roast, dried-out bread, the good half of a half-rotten apple… anything was better than poorly-scaled fish and potentially poisonous berries. It was a wonder he was still alive with how terrible he was at living in the wild.

As he approached the village, some of its inhabitants began to come into view. Many of them stood well over six feet tall, with a few reaching as tall as eight. They were all covered in red scales, shining vibrantly in the light of the setting sun. Ithan had heard that Greenreach was inhabited by dragonkin, but he had never actually seen them with his own eyes. The colors of their scales alone filled him with a sense of awe.

Since it was approaching dusk, Ithan found easy passage into the village square as most dragonkin had already retreated into their homes for the evening. The few dragonkin still walking the streets gave Ithan inquisitive looks and whispered amongst themselves as he passed them by. At the center of the square was a large fountain decorated with visages of noble dragonkin‍—one of them wore a crown upon his head. The ruler of the dragonkin empire, perhaps. The village’s inn was just north of there, and Ithan breathed a sigh of relief as he began to walk toward it. The muffled shouting coming from inside as he approached concerned him, but it stopped when he opened the door. The eyes of nearly two dozen dragonkin were now on him, and he froze in place as the stench of liquor invaded his nostrils.

“What’re you supposed to be?” the dragonkin behind the counter called.

“Um,” Ithan stuttered. He was used to people giving him strange looks, but dragon-people added a new level of terror to the experience. “I’m, um, looking for a place to sleep.”

“I don’t want you in my inn,” the dragonkin said. “You look like trouble.”

“Oh, um, I promise I‍—”

“Get out.” Two dragonkin from a table to Ithan’s left stood up and began walking toward him. Before they could move far, Ithan backed up through the door behind him and closed it, his legs quaking.

Back to plan “A”, then.

There was a pile of hay next to one of the nearby houses; Ithan walked over to it and settled in for the night. Just as he made himself comfortable enough to sleep, a shadow fell over him. Ithan looked up, groaning at the sight of the man now standing above him.

The man’s pointed ears protruded beyond his silver hair, which he wore in a half ponytail. His pale skin was almost as white as the snow. No doubt he was an elf, and he certainly had that air of superiority about him. He had two swords, one strapped on each hip.

“Leave me be, elf,” Ithan growled.

“What do you call yourself?” the elf asked, ignoring Ithan’s command. He rolled his head back and forth as he spoke, following the movements of the owl perched on his shoulder. Ithan had little interest in the elf’s apparent fascination.

“I am… Mor’lavan,” Ithan lied. Surely something as simple as “little monster” would get the elf to leave. But no, it only seemed to spur his curiosity.

“Oh,” the elf muttered as he cocked his head again, his brow furrowed.

“What?” Ithan grunted. His patience wore thin.

“Certainly your parents didn’t name you something so… crude,” the elf replied.

“You’re right,” Ithan said. “It was an elf who gave me that name.” The elf’s mouth hung open at Ithan’s words.

“I… I am sorry,” the elf stuttered. “I can see you do not care for my kind.”

“Can you?” Ithan asked. “Then why are you still standing here?” The elf opened his mouth again to say something, then looked away. He looked back at Ithan for a moment, then turned to leave, his head hung low.

“Well,” the elf said, his back still turned to Ithan, “not that you asked, but I am Taer’inar Volarei. It was good to meet you, friend.” After the elf had walked away and stepped into the inn, Ithan lay back down on the ground and closed his eyes, and soon he drifted off to sleep.

🙡◊🙣

Ithan stands before a great chasm. The land around him has been ravaged by powerful storms. Strange creatures of many forms are gathered around him. They call him “God-King”. Suddenly, the skies open, and beyond the clouds Ithan sees the sun. Its radiance fills the land, setting everything ablaze. The creatures flee, and Ithan’s body begins to burn. As he disintegrates into nothing, he reaches for the sun, cursing its name.

🙠◊🙢

“Hello?” a woman’s voice called as Ithan woke, shaken from his nightmare. When he opened his eyes, he nearly jumped out of his skin‍—a dragonkin girl had knelt down next to him and was leaning in a bit too close to his face. She smiled. “Good morning!”

Ithan scrambled out of his hay pile and stood up, trying to create some distance between him and the dragonkin. She stood up as well but did not try to move closer. She was not much taller than Ithan, but she was quite a bit shorter than many of the other dragonkin he had seen, and her deep green scales were in stark contrast to the others’. She was an oddity among them, to be sure.

“What do you want with me?” Ithan asked.

“My name’s Fenvyre,” she replied. “What’s yours?”

“…Mor’lavan.”

“More… Lava… n?” she muttered. “Do mind if I just call you ‘Lava’?”

“Uh… sure.” A fake name deserves a fake nickname, I suppose.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” she asked. “It’s the middle of winter, and you’re not wearing very warm clothes. You know there are rooms over in the tavern, right?”

“The innkeeper kicked me out as soon as he saw me,” Ithan replied. “Besides, I don’t have any money.”

“Oh, that Briryn,” the dragonkin sighed. She suddenly reached out and grabbed Ithan’s wrist, then started walking toward the tavern. Ithan’s hooves dragged through the dirt for a moment before he realized what was happening.

“Hold on,” he protested, pulling away from her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to the tavern,” she said. “Briryn won’t kick you out if he sees you with me!”

“But why? We only just met. Why are you helping me?”

“Well, if you really need a reason, it’s because you’re a young… deer-fox? …with no warm clothes sleeping in the snow, and I’m not okay with that.”

As they crossed the square, Ithan noticed an ignan approaching the fountain. They had vibrant pink skin and wore flowing purple robes. Their horns were more like nubs, protruding ever so slightly from their forehead. They hummed to themselves as they walked. When they reached the fountain, they turned around, raised their hands above their head, and began to shout in an incredibly high-pitched voice.

“Come, friends, and listen to the teachings of Laht! Fortune favors those who follow Laht, and Laht favors fortune! Take a chance, and you will surely be rewarded!”

The ignan’s voice clashed against those coming from inside the tavern as Ithan and the dragonkin approached. The dragonkin opened the door to the tavern and the stench of alcohol once again invaded Ithan’s nose. After a moment, the overwhelming smell became bearable as Ithan adjusted, and he followed the dragonkin inside. The tavern was already quite crowded, even this early in the morning.

“Hey, you!” the innkeeper shouted from behind the bar. “I told you to get out!”

“Be nice, Briryn! He’s my friend!” Fenvyre shouted back as she approached the bar. Ithan followed close behind, not wanting to get into any trouble with the other dragonkin. Some of them he recognized from the evening before, giving him that same threatening glare.

“Oh really?” Briryn questioned, eyeing Ithan with the same look as the other dragonkin. “You think everyone’s your friend, little Fenvyre.”

“He won’t be any trouble,” Fenvyre replied. “Can he please have a room upstairs? He’s been sleeping outside.”

“I’m fine‍—” Ithan started.

“Good morning, Fenvyre!” a familiar voice rang out from near the stairs. It was the elf from yesterday. Oh no.

“Hi Taer!” Fenvyre called. “I found a friend!”

“Wonderf‍—Oh. Hello again,” Taer’inar said, crossing his arms as his eyes briefly met Ithan’s before turning to Fenvyre. “Fenvyre, I’m afraid we’ll need to keep looking.”

“Aw, but why?” Fenvyre whined.

“It just isn’t going to work out. Trust me.” Taer’inar glanced once more at Ithan, then walked past them and out of the tavern.

“What are you looking for?” Ithan asked Fenvyre.

“Oh, we’re going on an adventure!” Fenvyre shouted. “There’s tons of places in Averion that are unexplored, and I want to see them all!” Her excitement suddenly vanished. “But it’s dangerous out there. I’ve been looking for friends to go with me. Taer said he’d go, but we still need more friends.”

“Well…” Ithan pondered. “We’re friends, right?” Fenvyre gasped in excitement.

“Oh, oh! Will you come with us?”

“I don’t see why not,” Ithan replied. “It should be fun.”

“You going out to the wilds too?” Briryn asked. He sighed, then reached into his pocket. “Well, I guess if you’re friendly with little Fenvyre, and you’re helping her out…” He pulled a key out of his pocket. “...I suppose the least I can do is offer you a room to stay in when you’re not getting killed.”

He stretched out his hand to give the key to Ithan, but before he let go, he grabbed Ithan’s wrist.

“Don’t you let anything happen to little Fenvyre. If she gets hurt out there, I’ll take those antlers of yours and shove them up your‍—”

“Briryn!” Fenvyre shouted. Briryn let go of Ithan and the key. Fenvyre patted Ithan on the shoulder, then motioned toward the stairs.

“Thank you,” Ithan said shakily to Briryn as he walked away from the bar.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

As Ithan and Fenvyre ascended the stairs, Fenvyre started giggling.

“I’m so excited!” she cried. “I’ve always wanted to see what’s out past Sonys’s house.”

“Sonys?” Ithan asked.

“Oh yeah, she’s my, uh… Er, anyway, what’s the number on your key?” Ithan held his key up to her.

“Room six.”

“Oh hey, that’s next to mine!” She ran down the hall and stopped in front of the fourth door on the left. “Here it is, room six!”

She stepped out of the way so that Ithan could unlock and open the door. Inside was a mostly bare room‍—the only furniture inside was a small bed on the right side. Even the window, which faced the village square, was left without curtain or shade. Ithan had not expected much, but he certainly expected… just a bit more.

“Are they all like this?” he asked Fenvyre.

“Yes,” Fenvyre sighed. “Briryn is very, very stingy with his money. He insists that guests furnish their own rooms.”

“Couldn’t he just buy a few things using guests’ money? …Wait, how am I paying for this?”

“Oh, you’re not!” Fenvyre replied. “Briryn doesn’t charge people for rooms.”

“How… does he make money then…?”

“Did you see how many drunk dragonkin were down there?” Fenvyre asked. She leaned her shoulder against the wall as Ithan walked over to the bed.

“Fair point,” Ithan said as he spread out onto the bed. It certainly wasn’t made of hay, but it would do. “Isn’t it a bit underhanded to take advantage of people while they’re drunk?”

“Ah, no, it’s not like that,” Fenvyre said. “Briryn uses the money he gets from running the tavern to give back to the village. He pays for all sorts of things on everyone’s behalf‍—just last week he paid for a new anvil to be brought in from Silvercrest for the blacksmith.”

“Huh,” Ithan said as he furrowed his brow. “But he won’t pay to furnish these rooms.”

“Yeah,” Fenvyre shrugged as she straightened herself up. “Not a lot of people stay here usually, so maybe that’s why. Anyway, I’m right next door if you need me. My name’s Fenvyre, by the way. Oh, I guess Briryn said that already, didn’t he? Anyway, bye for now, Lava!”

“Bye, Fenvyre,” Ithan called as Fenvyre closed the door behind her.

Finally alone again, Ithan let out a loud sigh. The noise from the dragonkin below in the tavern leaked through the floor, though it was not nearly as loud as when he was downstairs. The sun had fully risen by now, and unfortunately the window in Ithan’s room faced the east, so sunlight had filled the room. It would surely be impossible to fall back asleep with both the light and the noise. And yet, as he lay there, his eyelids grew heavy, and soon he fell asleep again.

🙡◊🙣

An elven king kneels before Ithan, begging for his life. Ithan sneers. He is thoroughly entertained that this once-proud noble grovels at his feet. He considers leaving the elf alive for the briefest moment, then shakes the thought away and thrusts his glaive through the disgraced king’s chest. The elf grabs at the glaive, trying in vain to pull it from his body as he begins to choke on his blood. Then, after a few moments, he falls silent and collapses to the ground, blood staining the palace floor. Ithan pulls his glaive from the noble’s corpse, tilts his head up, and roars.

🙠◊🙢

A sudden noise jolted Ithan from his sleep. Irritated from having been woken from a terrific dream, he sat up and yelped‍—there was a halfling standing next to his bed, looking down at him. People really need to stop doing that.

The halfling had short brown hair and stood about three feet tall. He wore a black cloak that looked just barely too large for him.

“Who are you?” Ithan growled, reaching for one of his daggers. Where his belt had been, though, there was nothing. He snarled and held his hand out toward the halfling. “Give it back.”

“Give what back?” the halfling asked. Ithan hopped out of the bed, and the halfling ran over to the door. Before he could escape, Ithan summoned a dagger and threw it ahead of the halfling. As the halfling reeled from almost having been impaled, Ithan leapt forward and grabbed him by the ankle and lifted him up upside down. “Hey, hey! Put me down!”

The halfling struggled to get free as Ithan began to shake him and items began falling out of his pockets. Gems, coins, and various other small objects clanged against the floor as they fell. Ithan’s belt hit the floor with a thud.

“You know, I hear halfling meat tastes pretty good,” Ithan said as he pulled the dagger out of the door. The halfling’s eyes widened.

“No, it’s not!” he cried, thrashing about harder than before. “It tastes gamey!”

“Only one way to find out,” Ithan replied, grinning. He made sure to show his teeth. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, followed by Fenvyre’s muffled voice.

“Lava? Are you okay in there?” Fenvyre called.

“Fen!” the halfling cried. “Help! He’s trying to eat me!”

Ithan rolled his eyes, then opened the door. Fenvyre’s worried face quickly turned to one of annoyance when she saw the halfling.

“Does this belong to you?” he asked Fenvyre, holding the halfling out toward her. She held out her hands and grabbed him, flipped him right side up and set him on his feet.

“Is that my bracelet?” Fenvyre asked as she looked beyond Ithan into the bedroom. She looked back at the halfling. “I’ve been looking for that for a week!”

“How do you know he didn’t take it?” Ian asked as he looked up at Ithan. “I heard animals like to put shiny things in their nests.”

Ithan stomped his hoof, and Ian jumped about a foot in the air.

“He’s a rambunctious little brat, isn’t he?” Ithan joked. “You didn’t tell me you had a kid.”

“I’m twenty-seven, you dingus,” Ian retorted.

“You sure don’t act like it,” Fenvyre replied. “Pick up your toys.”

Ian scrambled past Ithan and began collecting his belongings. When he reached for Ithan’s belt, Ithan threw his dagger down at it, pinning it to the floor.

“That one’s mine,” Ithan growled.

“Aw, man,” Ian groaned.

After clearing the rest of the floor, Ian walked back toward the doorway, only to be stopped by Fenvyre. She bent down and held out her hand expectantly. With a heavy sigh, Ian fumbled through his pockets and retrieved a silver bracelet and handed it to Fenvyre. She stood up and moved aside, and Ian scurried down the hall and down the stairs.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Fenvyre said to Ithan as Ian disappeared from view. “He’s really nice, when he’s not stealing your stuff.” Her face tightened at the word “nice”.

“You don’t seem too sure of that,” Ithan replied. “He’s not… coming with us, is he?”

“Gods, no!” Fenvyre exclaimed. “Can you imagine the kinds of trouble he’d get us into?” She glanced down the hallway to see if Ian was still lurking nearby. She turned back to Ithan. “Anyway, you’ve been sleeping all day. Aren’t you hungry?”

“I guess,” Ithan shrugged. With all the commotion he had not realized that the light outside had started to dim, and the sounds of the dragonkin downstairs had grown louder. He was certainly hungry; he had been sleeping so much lately to keep from expending what little energy he had.

“C’mon, then,” Fenvyre said as she began to walk down the hallway. “I’ll make you something.”

❧

Ithan crammed half of a loaf of sweet bread into his mouth as he waited for Fenvyre to finish cooking. It was supposed to hold him over until then, but he had his doubts as his stomach churned with a ferocity befitting of his form.

“That ignan is going to drive me insane,” Taer’inar’s voice called from near the entrance to the tavern, followed by the sound of the door closing. “Where’s Fenvyre?”

“‘Round back,” Briryn said. After a few moments, Taer’inar appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“I found‍—” he started before seeing Ithan on the floor. He bit down and began to chew, then swallowed.

“Don’t mind me,” Ithan said after his mouth was clear. Taer’inar rolled his eyes, then looked back up at Fenvyre. Ithan continued taking huge bites out of his bread while observing the elf and the dragonkin.

“I found more potential companions.”

“Ooh!” Fenvyre exclaimed. “Are any of them cool like Lava?” Taer’inar stared blankly at her for a moment.

“Lava…? Who’s that?” Taer’inar asked. Fenvyre pointed at Ithan. When Taer’inar looked over at him, Ithan waved rapidly, then began to choke on his bread. Taer’inar looked mildly concerned, while Fenvyre looked mortified. She took a step toward Ithan before he began coughing up his food.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Ithan cried as he caught his breath. “Continue.”

“Anyway, one is a minotaur, and the other is an auran.”

“Oh, I love minotaurs!” Fenvyre cried. “But… what’s an auran?”

“He’s blue,” Taer’inar replied. Fenvyre’s eyes lit up. “They want to set out at dawn.”

“Already?!” Fenvyre shouted. She hopped in place. “Yes! Great! Perfect!”

“Where to?” Ithan asked. Taer’inar quickly looked over at him, then back at Fenvyre.

“I thought I said no,” Taer’inar muttered.

“Why don’t you like Lava?” Fenvyre asked. “He’s nice, and he wants to help us.”

“How am I supposed to work with someone who’s made it very clear that he hates me?” Taer’inar replied as he looked back over at Ithan.

“I don’t hate you,” Ithan said.

“Really?” he asked. “But then, why did you‍—”

“I was trying to get you to leave me alone,” Ithan interrupted. “I hadn’t slept in two days when I got here, and I hadn’t eaten for longer.”

“So that story you told was a lie?”

“No. But I figured you’d leave faster if you thought I was going to bite you.” Ithan smiled. Taer’inar did not look amused.

“So can he come with?” Fenvyre asked Taer’inar. “You know, since he’s not going to bite you?”

Taer’inar let out a loud sigh.

“If I’m going to be working with you,” Taer’inar said as he crossed his arms over his chest, “can I at least call you something other than… that?”

“What’s wrong with his name?” Fenvyre asked.

“Nothing,” Ithan replied. “Mor’lavan’s fine.”

“I don’t understand,” Taer’inar “Why would you willingly use that name?”

“It suits me well enough,” Ithan said as he pulled himself up from the floor. “But if you really have a problem with it, you can call me Lava.”

Taer’inar’s eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” he muttered, holding out his hand. “Welcome aboard… Mor’lavan.” Ithan stepped forward and shook Taer’inar’s hand. Taer’inar held his grip for a moment after, gazing at Ithan as if studying him, then let go.

“I don’t know what that was all about,” Fenvyre said, “but yay! Now let’s go meet the others!”

“They each had their own business to attend to this evening,” Taer’inar replied. Fenvyre scowled. “You’ll be able to meet them in the morning.”

“It’s just as well,” Ithan said as he began to walk toward the doorway. “I think I ate too much. I need to sleep it off.”

“You’ve been sleeping all day!” Fenvyre exclaimed from behind him.

“Pleasant dreams,” Taer’inar called as Ithan rounded the corner into the tavern proper. He pushed his way through the drunken dragonkin to the stairs and made his way to his room. After getting inside and closing the door behind him, he slumped to the ground and laughed.

“Pleasant dreams,” he says. After another moment of sitting on the floor, he picked himself up and made his way to his bed. Just before he lay down, he checked under the bed for errant halflings. When he found none, he collapsed onto the bed. With the muffled shouts of the dragonkin below, Ithan pondered the day’s events. He thought about Fenvyre and Taer’inar. He thought about the impending meeting of the minotaur and auran. He thought about the adventure on which he would soon embark. He did not know what to expect in the wilderness of Averion, but he hoped that he would find what he was looking for. As these thoughts raced, something began to tug at his mind. A sensation that he had not felt in months.

How long have you been watching? Ithan thought as he closed his eyes.

Since you arrived in this village, a voice boomed in his mind.

The entire time?

Indeed. Ithan grimaced. Your interactions with the elf seemed promising. I must say I had hoped for a bit more… blood.

You’ll get your blood. There’ll be plenty of it where I’m going.

Yes. You will find much in the wilds of Averion. But I am not interested in lesser creatures. An image of Greenreach began to form in Ithan’s mind. Screams erupted as flames began to engulf the village. This is the edge of civilization. The perfect place to begin anew.

We had a deal, Ithan retorted, wiping the gruesome scene from his mind. You help me kill Varian, and then you get to use me for whatever else you want. He turned his body on the bed, preparing himself to try to sleep.

Fine, then, the voice replied angrily. Just remember, once your task is done, you are mine.

I remember.

Good. Sleep well, Mor’lavan. The voice’s presence faded, and Ithan breathed a sigh of relief. It took a lot of energy to keep up with the pressure that emanated from his master’s presence. Of course, his presence also meant that he was interested in something here. Whatever it was, Ithan did not care‍—not unless it would help him reach his goal. Besides, he was too tired to think about such things, and soon sleep took him once again.

🙡◊🙣

The field is littered with corpses. Some are fresh, while others appear to have been present for decades. There is a shrine at the center of the field; Ithan walks up to it and kneels down next to it. He takes a knife from his satchel and cuts open his palm. He places his palm on the shrine, focusing all of his energy on his task. He takes a deep breath, knowing that this act will change his life forever. Closing his eyes, he remembers the words of the one that guided him here. The promise that he made to take vengeance on the man who killed his mother. Then, he opens his eyes and calls upon the being who would become both the source of his power and his master.

Kiraan.