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Like Flying, Like Falling [Chapter 25: With final breaths]

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So-min sat on the tiled roof and cradled Jae-gyu’s body in his arms, stunned and blank-eyed as he struggled to understand the moment that had just passed. It had all been so fast; one moment, Ki-nam’s eyes had been full of rage and the light of the fire glinting off the sharp edge of the spear in his hand. And then Jae-gyu, a fierce, precise blur of motion, had been throwing herself in front of him, drawing So-min’s own knife in one fluid motion. Stabbing it into Ki-nam’s heart and impaling herself on her own blade in her brother’s hand, taking him down with her in one terrible moment of fate from which there was no returning.

Saving So-min himself, and Ara too. Jae-gyu must have known that that act would be her last. So-min had no doubt about that, for there had been too much deliberate precision, too much calculation in her motion, for him to believe she had not. And as he had watched the life go out of her eyes, he had known that she had understood that, that she had given them a chance, and with that he felt love and regret and sorrow expand in his chest, and the pain of it was unbearable.

She had given him a chance. He was dying, and Jae-gyu knew it; she though, she could have come out of this alive. She could have seen In-na again in the living world. But now she never would. She had given So-min and Ara a chance, if only they were to reach out and take it.

Yet still So-min did not move. He felt paralysed, though this time not by the loss of his power; he felt as though something had disconnected his mind from his body, sitting still and silent like a broken doll some child had tossed away.

He was holding Jae-gyu’s body in his arms, totally still. At some point he felt himself raise his hand to brush her eyes closed - the sight of them reflecting the light of the flames tugged too painfully at his heart - but even that motion did not feel like him, as though it were someone else moving his body, now at the last.

“So-min!”

The voice seemed to come from far away. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, managing to unclasp his locked fingers from Jae-gyu’s arm to pinch the bridge of his nose hard - stars were dancing across his field of view, a headache starting. The light of the fire all around was too bright, it was making him nightblind, and the crackling and roaring had reached a peak, suddenly loud and overwhelming; or perhaps that was simply the cacophony inside his own head.

“So-min!”

He blinked several times, realising there were tears on his face, though he was not aware of crying. Slowly, he turned to Ara, who was tugging insistently on his sleeve, eyes wide and fearful as she glanced up behind him. “The tower!”

He frowned, turning around in place; light caught his eye, brilliant orange, fearful heat rolling off it as it belched smoke up into the night sky. He could hear Ara crying out in alarm just behind him, but the sound was almost drowned out by a deafening creaking and grinding of failing wooden beams, hissing and whistling as they burned. He caught his breath, his arms going involuntarily limp, finally letting go their grip on Jae-gyu’s body. “We have to-”

But So-min got no further, for suddenly the flaming tower was flaring up towards the sky and tilting, then falling, falling closer until the world was filled with fire, a roaring inferno above, and then the world was crashing down all about him once more in a maelstrom of broken pieces and blinding light.

When Zeno first saw the red glow coming over the hill, he thought for just a moment that it must be dawn breaking. But only for a moment; the bright, high moon told him the night had hours left before the morning, and the glow was in the wrong place on the horizon.

That was about when he saw the column of smoke, rising over the hill. He felt fear light within him then; an old fear, a well worn one, many times proven justified, no less acute than any knife in his chest. Had he come too late?

Zeno quickened his pace as he crested the rise. There the trees ended and before him opened up the gently sloping green valley in which the village sat, the path winding down amongst the terraces. He stuck to the edge of the woods; there was fire coming from somewhere by their edge too, and he could see the remains of what might have been a camp, and hear people’s voices coming from there, a hubbub of cries of pain and anger. The sounds of fear and grief.

And the village...the village was aflame, its guard tower all alight like a rush taper. A signal in the sky, and he was already late to answer it...

He reached out with his sense of the other dragons, and when he did he drew in a sharp breath in shock.

For the two green lights - one bright and defiant and vital, the other fading, clinging to life - were right in the centre of the burning village, even as its people - or perhaps their attackers? Zeno was too far away to tell - scrambled to safety on higher ground, trampling through the rice fields and their early crop in their haste and fear.

Why had they left the dragons behind? Did Shuten’s village no longer care for his descendants enough to save them? Or was there some other reason that they had stayed behind?

He climbed up into the branches of a tree with dread, trying to get a better look at the people winding their way up the path in twos and threes. Some were being carried...were they wounded? Or dead? It wasn’t clear either, from this distance, what colour the people’s hair was. If it was green, he wanted to trust them, but even that much he couldn’t make out yet. As he had many times before, he wished he had the all-seeing eyes of Seiryuu.

He hadn’t that particular power though. And so he slipped down from his tree, keeping low and out of sight of the road as best he could.

Coming closer brought no reassurance; the fire, he saw now, was around the outer edge of the village, but had not spread to the centre, which was where the house had been, he remembered. Where he had eaten a meal with the older Ryokuryuu and the younger, that pleasant day not so long ago.

And sure enough, that was where he felt their presences. But that meant nothing if he could not find a way through the flames, to bring the two of them to safety if flying was no longer an option.

He was just thinking this when he saw something that made he gasp in horror once more; the guard tower, high and looming over all, had begun to tilt as the burning wood gave way, belching smoke and sparks into the air as it was consumed. Zeno felt time slow down as he watched it fall, collapsing into the centre of the village, where before the fire had not yet spread.

Right over where he felt the glow of the two dragons who shared his blood.

Zeno looked down; his bare legs still sparkled with a light sheen of residual golden scales, but he picked up a rock and struck his ankles again, and again and again, wincing at the pain and biting down on his lip to stifle his cries - for the pain never got easier - until they were armoured to the knee, bright and strong.

Strong enough for now. Strong enough to do what he needed to do.

Or so he hoped.

Ara trembled as she crouched on the edge of the roof, the remaining tiles hot under the palms of her splayed hands. She was desperately trying to think what to do next, but somehow ideas wouldn’t come; her mind was a wild tangle of fear, a knot she couldn’t begin to try to undo. She gritted her teeth together, biting back a sob as she tried to look around her. The fallen tower had dealt the house a glancing blow, striking just where So-min and Ara had been sitting, So-min cradling Jae-gyu’s body; he had let go in shock, and that was what had saved him.

She had still been holding onto his arm, and she had braced her dragon leg against the gable of the roof, and held on for both their lives as the tower had fallen to the side in an explosion of sparks and brittle burnt wood. It had broken off a large corner section of the roof, exactly where they had been a moment before. It had fallen onto Jae-gyu’s body too, sending her with it as it crashed through the house, crashing to the ground a long moment later in a great funeral pyre like the ones in the stories of heroes, flaring high up into the heavens in a wall of flame, before subsiding down to burn hungrily over the wreckage below.

Ara had screamed, and So-min had screamed, and they had clung on, and clung on harder as the tiles around them began to slip into the great burning hole in the roof. And she had screamed as she felt So-min begin to slip too; she had to hold him, but she wasn’t strong enough. His weight was too much and she cried even as his arm slipped from her grasp, leaving her clinging to the roof all alone as fire danced all around, like a stormy sea threatening to overwhelm a small boat in the great emptiness of the open ocean.

When the dust and the cloud of smoke had cleared, Ara opened her watering eyes to see a fearful sight. The tower’s fall had exposed a corner of the loft room, and the flames were greedily devouring the wreckage of the rafters, or Ara’s bed covers and the small number of possessions she had. But that wasn’t what made her gasp; for she saw now that So-min had fallen half into the gap, cradled precariously in a mass of broken wood; it was clear that he could slip and fall into the flames below at any moment. But even the wood around him was partly aflame, and he was close to being burned by the flames; she screamed, as she saw the fire creep closer, too near to then the trailing edge of his tunic. She saw him stir at that; it brought a little relief - at least he was alive - but still she had no idea what to do.

She tried to think of what the Ryokuryuu in her stories would do - the stories her mother had told her, from her special, treasured book with its pictures and its fantastical tales. He was her own family, wasn’t he? His blood ran through her now, strongest of all his descendants. Ara had thought, sometimes when she had jumped high into the sky without fear, or when her mother or So-min had taught her things, that one day she might be strong like that. That she could really be like that long-ago Ryokuryuu, and protect the people she loved, save them from getting hurt.

This would be the time, she knew. If she knew anything of those stories, it was the the four dragon warriors always arrived just in time to save the day; that was how they went, and Ara believed that with all her heart.

This should be the time; she was stronger than she had ever been, now, the full power of the dragon coursing through her blood. Yet in this moment, she felt small and weak and powerless as she had ever felt in her life.

She wiped the tears from her face angrily with the back of her sleeve. She forced herself to look back at So-min, from where Jae-gyu’s body had fallen down with the tower, into the blackness below which was now roaring and crackling with orange flame, licking hungrily at the edge of the house. Jae-gyu would understand, Ara knew. She knew that Jae-gyu would want her to save So-min. She had to keep her mind on that.

She had to get down to him, she knew. If she could do that, then she could perhaps lift him - if she was strong enough - and then jump them both to safety. She wouldn’t have been able to do that before, but now she felt...well, stronger. She had the power now, and So-min was weak because he had lost it. So really, she had no choice but to try to save him.

And so she inched her way along the broken edge of the roof, trying to find a way down. Heat and smoke roiled upwards from the fire consuming the bed covers, making her eyes smart and water, her throat burn with it.

But she ignored it resolutely, carefully picking her way to the edge of a smashed rafter, dislodging several more tiles as she did; they fell down dizzyingly, into the fire below in flurries of sparks that made Ara wince, her fingers nearly slipping on the splintered wood. Even as she did, So-min slipped down a little further, and would have fallen, had she not reacted quickly enough; she reached out with her dragon leg, growing it to twice its size and stamping on the edge of his tunic, pinning him there to the broken boards that had been the floor of her room.

Somehow, amid all this, she felt a spark of exhilaration, delight in how effortless using her power had been; she could fly higher than ever now, and something deep in her, something that came from her dragon’s blood, was calling her to leap joyfully into the sky. To save herself, to leave So-min behind; after all, he had lost his power...he was nothing more than an ordinary human now, something inside her that was not quite her and yet not quite not her seemed to say. She was the one that must live on, she must carry on the dragon’s blood, for she was the only one left.

The voice may have come from her, but it frightened Ara worse than anything else about all of this. Gritting her teeth together she forced it out of her head; likewise the urge to cry, the wish to be held close, as her mother had done, and told it was all going to be alright.

There wasn’t time for that now, and there was no one left... no one at all. But maybe she could still help So-min, protect him as he had protected her. She wasn’t just an ordinary child, after all. She was the best - the only - chance he had.

Ara found it easy then to reach down with her dragon leg and push So-min sideways onto the board; still close to the edge, but not about to fall. Then she took a breath, and lowered herself down too. Fitting herself between the fallen, smoldering beams was hard, and she still felt choked with fear, but there was a sort of peace there too; no adult would have been able to fit through that gap to reach So-min, and so, she was sure now, it had to be her. No one else could save him.

A moment later she was kneeling beside him, shaking his shoulder, and at once her spark of hope was replaced once more with sick dread; he had been wounded before, but now he looked worse; the wound on his head had opened up again, and blood was running down his face from there and from a bleeding nose, mingling with sweat and black soot. But under it his face was chalky white, eyes darting under his closed lids. She almost grasped his hand in hers, but hastily put it down in case it hurt him; his wrist was beginning to swell too, bruised a terrible mottled purple; she had not noticed before.

“So-min!” She shook his shoulder; he was so still, she felt terror come once more. She shook him harder. “So-min, wake up So-min! Please wake up!”

For a while, it was no good; she was choking out the words through her sobs, shaking him as the fire inched closer at their backs. He was breathing, hard and laboured, but his eyes were closed. But as she watched he opened his mouth, making a small sound of pain.

“So-min!” she tugged desperately at his arm. “We have to... the fire...”

His eyes opened a crack, wild and unfocused for a moment before they caught on her face. “A...Ara...” he blinked, and grimaced as pain seemed to go through him. “The... the fire... we have to... get out...”

“I know!” she said; she almost laughed, hysterical and painful. “Let’s go! Come on, So-min, we - ”

“No!” he grasped her hand with his unbroken one, then let go, his hand going to his pocket, struggling as though to try to get something out. “N-No, not... not me... you...”

Her eyes widened. “No! I said I’d save you! And I will!” She was angry, as much as anything; the stories never told of things like this. It occurred to her then that maybe that was because there was no one to tell them. The thought only made her more insistent. “I promised I’d do it, and I will!”

He stopped scrabbling at his pocket, eyes fixing on her in desperation. “A...Ara, please - ”

But he didn’t finish the sentence. For from the hole in the roof and the wall that led to the sky above - that led to freedom - came another great creaking, the roof shedding several more tiles. As they fell, a little more of it collapsed, and she was just able to pull So-min away from the edge in time, into the relative shelter of what was left of her bedroom. But, she realised with wide eyes, the way out was blocked; the whole window was gone, and the hole where it had been was covered in burning debris. She couldn’t even see the sky anymore, and the whole room was beginning to fill with smoke, lit by the orange glow by the hungry flames. If they were to get out of this, it wouldn’t be that way.

Ara felt panic crawl up over her; she had always found safety in the skies. But at the same time she realised something else; the trapdoor that led down from the loft room was still there. She dragged So-min over to it, hooked her foot under the ring and pulled it open. Then she wrapped her arms around So-min’s chest and tugged with all her might. He was heavy, and hard for her to move across the floor as she stepped onto the ladder down. That would be the difficult part, she knew; but she could feel cooler, outside air coming from somewhere, and that meant escape.

So-min cried out a little in pain as she tried to pull him towards the trapdoor; he was too heavy, and, she realised with a pang, she was hurting him.

“So-min!” she cried out. Her throat was beginning to burn from the smoke. “I’m... I’m sorry, b-but you have to try and - ah!”

She cried out as above them there was a booming creak, from the rafters. She stared upwards, wide-eyed, even as she saw the flames running across the upper rafters from her bed, which had caught fire and was burning brilliantly. “So-min, I think... the roof...!”

But even as said the words, there was an even greater creaking sound, and the roof was slowly collapsing in the direction of the missing section. Lowering down as it gave way inch by inch, the sound of tiles cascading down outside almost deafening.

Several things happened then, as Ara stared up at the descending roof in frozen terror. Beside her, she heard a grunted yell of determination and anger, and then So-min was raising himself up, rolling over her to shield her from the falling roof with his body, with all the strength left in him. But even as he did so, he was rolling them both over the trapdoor, and there was no floor beneath them as they fell through. Ara fell tangled up in So-min’s arms, and he held her all the way down as above them the roof collapsed onto what was left of the loft room, sending a gout of smoke down to the level where they now lay.

Ara was bruised and winded by the fall, but not hurt. She had fallen half on top of So-min’s chest; all the way down, he had been shielding her from the worst of it.

So-min, on the other hand, was even worse off than he had been before. Though she could feel his heartbeat where she lay for just a moment with her head against his chest, it was weak, and his breathing was even more ragged than it had been. Also, he wasn’t moving, save for his face, which was twisted up in pain, hair sticking to his forehead with blood.

Ara pushed it back, stood up with gritted teeth. They were in the hallway below the loft room; that meant they just had to make it along the corridor, past Jae-gyu and In-na’s room and the empty bedroom, down two sets of stairs past the passage to the kitchen and the cellar, and then through the entrance-room and out of the door. From there, she could fly into the sky.

She did not let herself think any further than that, even as she tugged So-min by the sleeve and the collar, along the hallway. She couldn’t think of the fact that she probably couldn’t lift So-min onto her back, that she couldn’t fly into the air with him. For all her dragon’s power, she was just too small to keep a grip on him with her arms, even if her leg was doing all the work. But she mustn’t think of that now, she knew, or she wouldn’t be able to continue.

With effort, Ara dragged So-min as far as the stairs. It had only been a little time, perhaps, but to her it felt like an age; they trapdoor was still open, and burning debris rained down onto the floor, and was already catching the matting alight at the other end of the corridor. Outside the window, she could see only flame, where the tower had fallen beside the house. Its fire must be spreading on the outside, in that direction. She didn’t want to try to escape that way, if she could help it, which meant she was right; the only way to go was down, and hope for a way out.

She dragged So-min past the window, but even as she did there came a creaking sound, and a loud popping as the shutters warped in the heat from the fire outside. Ara threw herself out of the way, trying to drag So-min with her, but she was too late; a moment later, the heavy shutter had fallen out of its frame completely, across So-min, throwing a tongue of flame into the hallway with it. Ara screamed, trying to push it off him, and then screamed again as the wood - weakened by the heat, burning inside and out - burned her palms, searing her skin with more pain than she had ever felt before, pain that made her want to curl up around her hands and cry until it went away.

But she couldn’t, she knew. With a yell of anger, she kicked fiercely at the burning wood covering So-min, sending it flying easily away. Then she was off again, trying her best to ignore the pain in her palms, biting her lip to keep the tears away until she reached the relative cool, dark safety of the stairs, in the opposite corner of the house from the fire outside.

Still, if the stairs were a little easier for her, but she knew that they hurt So-min more, with each bump down each step. The whole house was filling with smoke, and Ara coughed until her chest ached. But, she realised, the smoke was thinner closer to the ground, and so she crawled on her hands and knees as she had when she had played hiding games with her mother in the forest near their camps, when she had been younger. She wondered, briefly, if her mother had played those games with So-min, in this very house.

She had little time for speculation though, as a moment later she heard - or felt, just as much - another great rumbling crash. Where had that come from? For a moment she glanced back, up the stairs again, but above all she saw was a glow of firelight and smoke lit from within, coming from the way through to the upper floor. Nowhere in the house would be safe for long; she had to hurry.

She turned her eyes back downwards, and pressed on, dragged So-min behind her down the stairs. At long last, they came to the entrance room. The windows were shuttered here too, but through the cracks Ara could see that the world outside blazed with fire, where the tower had fallen beside the house. Above though, she could hear the ferocious groaning and roaring of the upper floors caught ablaze. She balled her hands into small, tight fists in the fabric of So-min’s tunic. The burnt, blistered skin of her palms felt as though it was burning still, tearing at her with pain, but she didn’t allow herself to stop tugging So-min towards the door, trying to ignore his weak whimpers of pain. This was how she would save him. Even though it might not be safe, it must be safer outside than in here. It had to be. She unclenched her fists with a wince, laying her hands on the door, and gave it a tentative push.

Nothing happened.

Ara gasped, fear rippling through her once more. No, it couldn’t be locked in...she remembered, So-min had unlocked it from outside, but she had always simply been able to get out as she pleased. Maybe there was something heavy that had fallen against it, outside? She hammered her fists against it, then her shoulder, but to no avail, sobbing in pure panic as the glow of flame illuminated the way up to the next floor, smoke flooding out of the doorway to the stairs. She felt lightheaded with fear, or from the smoke she’d breathed. Or both. And now she was trapped here, even after she’d come so far. No way forward, and no way back.

But no... there was something that she could do here; in her panic, Ara had almost forgotten her new strength. Again, she almost laughed as she walked a little way back from the door; how often had she asked So-min if she could do this?

Ara wiped the way her tears with a savage grimace and took a running leap. As she did she let out a cry of fear and defiance, her small, emerald scaled foot colliding with the heavy, solid wooden door. The sound of metal screaming as the lock easily broke, wood splintering as the door exploded out of its frame to fly at least thirty feet away, scattering the smoldering wreckage that had been blocking it. As she did so the debris caught light with the wind, soaring into the air in all directions in a bright sunburst of light, fire dancing all around her and smoke pouring out of the broken doorway.

Which was why Ara almost didn’t see the figure standing up in front of her, raising themself up from the ground where her kick had surely knocked them back. A slight figure, and at first she narrowed her tear-filled eyes then stared in horror, thinking that this person was limned with fire, burning from head to foot.

But a moment later, she saw that it wasn’t so; instead, the figure was covered with scales all over, bright as polished bronze in the light of the flames. And then they were rushing to kneel before her, to take her by the shoulders, saying words she could barely make out.

And in that moment, Ara recognised their face. A kind, gentle face, despite the strange scales covering it. Warm summer blue eyes, a look that she recognised from a moment when she had most needed a friend, and he had been there. He had helped her find So-min, and she had never forgotten that, had never forgotten the golden warmth that radiated from him even when he was like this - whatever this was, but for the moment she did not care - had never forgotten the comfort it had brought her just to be near him. It made her sob with relief, dizzy with it, her pain forgotten for just a moment.

“Zeno!”

“Ryokuryuu!” Zeno had fallen to his knees in front of her, pulling her close to his chest in a tight hug. His scales hurt a bit; they burned to the touch like a pan left too long over a fire, and she winced and drew away.

His eyes widened, his words coming too fast, falling over each other. “Oh! No! Zeno is sorry... little Ryokuryuu, Zeno is so sorry... Zeno should have come sooner... Zeno will take Ryokuryuu far away, and - ”

But he broke off as Ara shook her head. “So-min!” she gestured behind her, to where So-min lay. “He’s alive! Please, Z-Zeno...ah...” she broke into weak coughing, as more smoke gushed down the stairs from behind her, enveloping them for a moment. When it had thinned a little, she looked up at him. She was struggling to keep focused now, but she forced herself to stare up at Zeno; she had to make him understand. “So-min’s alive! Please... help him!”

Zeno stared at So-min, then at her for a moment. Then he nodded, clasping her hand in his. “Zeno will.”

Ara nodded, swayed on her feet, and felt her vision go darker at the edges. A moment later, she was collapsing in Zeno’s arms, right there on the doorstep with the fire burning all around.

Hours later, Zeno sat cross-legged at the bottom of the slope of a grassy hill, as the sun rose and all was quiet at last. He couldn’t see the village anymore - or what remained of it - from the next valley over, but he was still close enough to see the smoke rising in the still morning, a tall column lit a bloody red by the sun that was breaking over the horizon. A cruel wound in an otherwise peaceful dawn sky.

Beside him lay Ara, wrapped up in the charred remains of Zeno’s cloak as a blanket, so that she would not catch a chill in the morning dew as she slept. Zeno had worried for her at first when she had fallen unconscious, but she had immediately started breathing easier in the fresh morning air. Her hands were burned badly, but apart from that, she had suffered only some bruises and scratches, as far as Zeno could tell. He had cleaned her palms and wrapped them in strips of cloth torn from his scarf, and it would do for now. At some point, she had slipped into a deep dreamless sleep, in the way that one can only sleep when worn through by sorrow and exhaustion and tears.

And even if he could have woken her, Zeno didn’t have the heart to; it would only hurt her, knowing that she could do nothing for her predecessor, who was breathing his last in Zeno’s cradling embrace even as the light of day began to touch the tops of the distant mountains of the Wind Tribe lands, far off on the horizon.

So-min was alive still, but only barely. He had spoken as little, earlier, had even recognised Zeno at first when he regained consciousness; he had squeezed Zeno’s hand in sudden desperation, made him promise to look after Ara; he was only half conscious, didn’t seem to realise that she was right here beside them. Either way, Zeno made the promise wholeheartedly, and that seemed to comfort So-min, at least a little. He was still afraid, though; Zeno saw it in his eyes, staring up into his or roaming wildly across the lightening sky, felt it in the tight grip of his hand, even now. So-min whispered his fears to Zeno in the morning quiet, as the gentle breeze in the higher air gently carried the smoke from the burning across the delicate pink and blue of the heavens.

Zeno did his best to tell him that all would be well; he didn’t know whether So-min could understand his words, didn’t know if he believed them if he did. Zeno didn’t know if he believed them himself. At least there was one promise he made that he knew he could keep; he promised to stay with So-min, to not leave him until the end, and he would at least do that much. After all, time was the one thing Zeno did not lack.

All the while, guilt tugged at him; he should have been there. Whatever had happened to Shuten’s village, he was sure he could have prevented this, should have prevented it. But, as always, he had come too late.

Or, not quite too late. Not too late to bring a little comfort. Just when Zeno felt So-min’s life ebb almost to nothing, he stirred once more. Zeno frowned; So-min seemed to be trying to open the inside pocket of his tunic, close to his chest, but with his broken hand he couldn’t. And so Zeno did it for him, his fingers finding some small, hard object, warmed by being close to So-min’s heart.

Zeno took it out, opening his fingers to look at it as So-min watched. It sat on Zeno’s grimy palm, bright against the blood and black ash ingrained into his skin, and so incongruous he almost caught his breath.

It was a single earring, a delicately violet drop-shaped pearl suspended from a fine silver clasp. As he looked, So-min raised his good hand - and Zeno could see how much effort even that small motion took - and closed Zeno’s fingers over it.

Zeno nodded, clasping the earring tight in one hand, holding So-min’s hand in the other, counting out the final beats of his heart from the weakening pulse he felt in their shared grip.

So-min slipped away as the dawn became full morning. Zeno built a small stone cairn for him on another hilltop, a little way off. He had had to do this many times in his long life, for people he had known only a little, or loved dearly, or had not known at all. Yet still, he didn’t know quite which words to say; times had changed and the words he still remembered from when he had been a priest didn’t fit with these times, the rituals and the language had all changed in all those centuries that Zeno had wandered the world. But he said what he knew, with faltering voice; the knowledge of the fate of his brothers’ descendants was a heavy burden, but he knew that now of all times he must not shirk it.

He had lingered there a while, but now, he was walking along the road to where he had seen the camp, with Ara cradled in his arms, still sleeping. Her hair tickled his chin, and under his breath he hummed an old song that he knew. As he walked he looked down at her, and could not help but smile a little sadly. She looked so very small and young like that, in sleep. Carefree too, but he knew that her life had been - and would be, as like as not - anything but.

And for a moment then an idea came to Zeno, a bold, frightening idea such as he had not had - or not allowed himself to have - in centuries, or maybe even longer. But a mere moment later he dismissed it; he knew what he had to do. He had to take her back to her people. She belonged with her own blood, her own family.

Yet as he approached the valley where he had seen the camp, doubt began to assail him. The camp was set in a little clearing between a small wood and the rice fields surrounding the village, a peaceful and sheltered place, but even from this distance, Zeno could tell that something was wrong.

From the camp he could hear shouting, the clashing of blades and screams. He could see a spot of smoke rising from the edge of the forest; it had been put out, but that was not a campfire, he could tell. There was chaos, with people still streaming from the ruins of the village, fighting over what must be stores of food that they had risked their lives to go back into the flames for.

Zeno stared, peering around the edge of a little hollow beyond where the rice fields started. He still didn’t understand what had happened here, but one thing was evident now in the light of day: both sides of this conflict, whatever it was, had green hair. That hurt him as deeply as any other part of this, but it also filled him with doubt.

He had thought that with her people would be the safest place for Ara, but how could it be? How could anywhere be safe, if the dragons’ descendants fought each other, instead of protecting each other as they should?

He looked down at Ara again, then back at the fighting on the hillside, then back at Ara again. He had promised So-min that he would look after her... only now was he beginning to understand just what that might really mean. He realised that he was holding the earring So-min had given him, tight in his closed fist.

And in that moment, he made his choice.

And so Zeno lifted Ara up once more, cradling her in his arms. Then he turned his back on what remained of the village and its people, and began to walk.

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