Page 75 of The Truth

“Forgive me if that brings me little warmth.”

Aeson folded his arms, taking in the darkness that surrounded Atara, the emptiness in her stare. “This is not the end, Atara.”

“I know.”

Aeson squeezed Atara’s shoulder before moving to the young apprentices. He knew Atara well, she had trained him, taught him the true heart of holding a blade. Hers was a soul that needed time, not words. He knelt beside the two apprentices, who both looked up at him.

“Draleid Virandr,” one them said, a girl who had witnessed no more than twelve summers. Her soulkin was no larger than a pony, with deep black scales and eyes of green.

“What is your name, little one?”

“Anara,” she whispered, suddenly growing shy. She gestured towards the other apprentice, a young elf with dark hair. “And this is Valahn.”

Valahn only looked up at Aeson but didn’t speak a word.

“And what is her name?” Aeson asked, his gaze turning to the hatchling by Anara’s side.

Anara rested a hand on her soulkin’s neck. “Numirí.”

The dragon didn’t lift her head, only stared at Seynarí.

“She’s scared,” Anara said.

“She has every right to be.” As Aeson looked down over the small black dragon, a shadow fell over Numirí, and at last the small creature raised her head, her pupils widening.

Lyara had moved to stand over Aeson, her scales glittering in a shade of purple under the light of the red moon. She lowered her head and touched the tip of her snout to Numirí’s. As she did, the other hatchling gave a soft whimper and stretched out her neck, and Lyara nuzzled her as well.

“What do we do now?” Anara asked, her eyes glinting in the moonlight as she stared at Aeson.

“We get back up.” Aeson shifted on to one knee, looking to both Anara and Valahn. “This has been the darkest night. But after every night comes a dawn. And we must be the ones to rise to it. We are the Draleid. If we do not stand, what hope have others?”

Anara nodded, resting a hand on Numirí.

“It will be all right,” Aeson said as he got to his feet with great effort, Lyara standing over him. “We are here.”

Letting out a soft sigh, Aeson walked closer to where Harken sat with Chora. He looked out over their bloodied and battered group. “We rest here. Lyara and I will take first watch. Come the morning, we need to move. We are too exposed here, and there will be others readying to fight. We must join them.”

“It is done, Aeson.” The voice was Chora’s. She looked at him with emptiness in her eyes. “Ilnaen is gone. Alvira is gone. The Order is gone… Daiseer is gone. My legs… I feel them no more. I cannot even walk from this place. It is done.”

Aeson shook his head. “It is not done.”

“It is⁠—”

“It is not done!” Aeson’s heart raged, Lyara’s fire setting it alight. They were one. The same soul. “Alvira is gone. Ilnaen is gone. Our home is gone. But we are not. I refuse to simply lie down and die. I will not be that man. Now, more than ever, we must be the guardians Epheria looks to.” He looked down at Chora. “L’aël sanyin, vesani, nur dar aiar ilån du panthar. Aiar væra svid nur dar aiar haryn narda. Imadrû un Daiseer værakanra i’lanír. Aiar væra svid.”

I am sorry, sister, for what they took from you. They will burn for what they have done. Daiseer’s sacrifice will not be in vain. They will burn.

Dark circles ringed Chora’s eyes as she glared at him. She only grunted, then turned away, rolling onto her side.

From where he sat, Harken held Aeson’s gaze for a moment before giving Aeson a short nod and pressing a hand to his chest.

“Viel val du, Akar,” Atara said, moving to stand by his side. “Ildryr viel asatar. I sanvîr viel baralun.”

We are with you, brother. In fire we are forged. In blood we are tempered.

She grasped Aeson’s forearm and stared into his eyes. “There are none I would rather stand beside.”

“Nor I.” Aeson pulled Atara into an embrace. He pulled away and pressed his hand over his chest. “Draleid n’aldryr, vesani.”