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@everyone

Okay, so I’m going to follow Emily and Denali’s example and skip forward a bit in character development for Aydin! Instead of the beginning of his arc, he’s now mid-arc. He hasn’t gotten over the lie yet, but now he knows there is another option at least.

I’m doing this mostly because otherwise he’d instantly perish in any kind of fight and when Chantara inevitably starts phsycologically torturing him he’ll just agree with her which is comedic, ngl, but also very sad.

So, he has changed quite a bit during this time, about three months. His hair is even longer and I think he’s wearing it pulled back by this time. He’s very tanned from being outside all summer and he’s completely stopped coughing. He’s still wearing plain clothes, and just a dagger. Also (It warms my heart to say this) he looks noticeably less miserable and suspicious. He doesn’t look as haunted and his sense of humor has (thankfully) developed XD

It’s going to be much, much easier to write him now he isn’t just miserable XD

Aydin

Yila completely snapped. She was screaming and crying after she’d thrown that knife at the man in the corner. On one hand, I wanted to help but then again, she hated me. I was going to make this worse, and I really didn’t want to. I trusted Niarok to take care of it.

On the other hand– Oh wait, I couldn’t use that one. I barely smothered a smile at my own internal joke.

Liorah shot me an annoyed look and I grinned at her. That seemed to annoy her even more, which was exactly what I’d been going for.

The large, red eye of the dragon opened. His scales were as tight as chainmail, and his tail was as thick as a tree. My smile faded and I reached for a sword, only to realize I didn’t have one. Of course I didn’t.

The dragon rose, like a mountain shifting and rising. Its scales rippled like boulders rolling off the mountainside.

“WHO HAS AWOKEN ME?” The dragon roared.

I snickered, somewhat hysterically. Of course it could talk. 

My first, somewhat unfortunate but decidedly amusing, thought was that Juni, one of Faye’s older sisters, would have killed to be in my place. She would have died instantaneously but she would have loved every second.

Liorah ripped her shamshir out of its scabbard, her sling still dangling from her hand.

She glanced from the sliver of metal, which seemed pathetic against the dragon to her sling, whose bullets were just as ineffectual but further away. That was enough to convince her.

She thrust the sword at me.

“Here. Stab with the pointy end, cut with the slicey part.”

I didn’t take the sword.

“You might have forgotten a minor detail.”

“I didn’t.”

“I haven’t become lefthanded overnight.”

She shot me a glare that told me now wasn’t the time to argue but I glared back. I wasn’t going to let her send me into danger without making sure she knew this was all her fault.

“You’ve practiced offhand, haven’t you?” she said, exhasperated.

“Not much! Just enough to surprise an opponent once or twice, not to fight that.”

“I’m not expecting you to kill it, I just want you to have a fighting chance.”

“I don’t know how this weapon works,” I said, gesturing helplessly at the strong arch. It was completely different from the swords I’d used.

Liorah sighed then gave in and gave me an explanation.

“Follow through well, the arch does the cutting for you, it functions instead of the exaggerated front balance of your weapons. Just watch your edge alignment, don’t count on thrusting but if you need to you can.”

I hesitantly took the weapon, just as the dragon roared again.

“THIS IS THE ONE,”

It was looking directly at Yila. Niarok shifted inbetween her and the dragon.

The dragon leapt forward, spraying sparks from its mouth. I staggered backward, the smell of heat overwhelming me. Well, that was both unfortunate and unexpected.

I knew I wouldn’t be of much use in a fight. Liorah hurled bullets at the creature, aiming for its softer scales, the head, the eyes. She didn’t seem to be doing much good but she was hellbent and furious which had to count for something.

I just kept beside Niarok and tried to help whenever he slipped up.

Finally, Niarok’s sword plunged through the armor and it collapsed, writhing, with a final scream that sent a belch of fire across the floor. I stood aside and grinned. We’d defeated it.

Only then I realized Niarok was holding on to something dark and mangled as though he could never let it go. He seemed to have collapsed, completely surrounded by purest agony.

The small, dark shape had once been Yila. Something sank deep in me, ruining something that felt like it had just been recovering. I felt sick.

I hadn’t even noticed she was there. I hadn’t gotten in the dragon’s way, I hadn’t defended her.

Tears rose to my eyes but I blinked them away. I had to help. I let the sword drop and knelt next to Niarok.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice lost in my own heartbeat. I should have stopped it, I should have solved something. I should have done better, I should have been better.

I reached for Yila’s wrist, wincing as I felt the burns. I searched for a heartbeat, even the faintest flicker, but nothing was left.

Niarok hadn’t moved, he was hugging his sister’s still form as though he could bring her back to life with nothing but desperate, wasted love.

There was just too little motion. My heartbeat sped up even more, as panic seemed to block out life itself. I let out a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. I checked Niarok’s pulse. It was there, but his breaths were quick and harsh. He might be unconcious from shock.

I hesitated, then placed my hand on his shoulder. I winced but forced myself not to pull back. It was the right thing to do, I could endure a litle discomfort if it would help Niarok.

“I know how hard you tried,” I said, quietly. “This wasn’t your fault.”

It felt like someone else was speaking through me, like Riakon or even Niarok himself was echoing back through me. Niarok had spent his whole life giving so much kindness that it was inevitable that it would come back to him.

Niarok didn’t respond. I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to. I probably couldn’t have handled it.

Two distant voices echoed a prayer through years. I let out a breath and listened to the hallucination. That had been my fault as well, but it was past. I could only try to fix the consequences. I picked up my sword and stood between Niarok and the next dragon appearing from the corner. I would die before letting anything happen to them.

From the corner of my eye, I saw someone streaking across the room, too fast, too smoothly. My muscles tensed until I recogized one of the earlier members of the castle. The whiny one who had commented on my earlier coughing. Basil, wasn’t it?

He ran over to one of the chained people and started undoing the chains of one of the men.

I saw him reach up and ruffle Basil’s hair. A shiver bolted up my spine. Something about the motion didn’t look like affection. I’d seen a lot of familial affection in the past few months, and that wasn’t it.

It looked completely… wrong. It reminded me of my father, the way he used to reach out and place his hand on my shoulder. I was going to avoid that man like the plague.