A Silver Lining

An arm held up to shield his face from the wind, Havel strained to look at the dragon. The light shone directly into his face. If winds could bite, this wind was gnawing. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, almost drowning out the noise of the world around. What sounded like windchimes made of chainmail laid a static backdrop to the louder clanking sounds caused by the beast before him. Everyone in the village was used to the sound of faint tapping and clicking, but this white noise had once enveloped and maddened some of the First. Melrue herself had apparently been among them. She was no stranger to Havel – her sheer stature and force of nature had paired itself with wit and kinship. This had allowed her to become one of the most contributory members of the village. The very place where he had woken up that morning had been almost entirely constructed from the materials she alone had salvaged and brought back from the Montux.

Despite the distance between them, he felt like he had very much intruded into a space far too occupied with her presence. Melrue’s silver and copper scales reflected light into his face as she adjusted herself, growing in build as she straightened her head and turned to face him. Looking up into full black eyes, Havel could not distinguish emotion. He took in a breath, and in a raised voice was only able to mutter a vowel before he was interrupted.

“Lend a hand, yea?”

He paused, unsure if he had heard correctly. With an impatient huff and shake of her head that sent her scales chittering down her neck, Melrue’s voice crackled and purred.

“Havel, do you copy?”

Though he knew her, or rather, knew of her, he hadn’t spoken to her much. This would be the first time he addressed her directly. She was close to a few individuals, mainly the more experienced such as Yael, and Havel had very little experience to offer. With a muttered apology, he scurried towards her, picking up bits and pieces that had fallen off the slab of metal she was carrying.

She didn’t say anything for the rest of the way back to the village, so neither did he. He would look up every so often, half-expecting her to say something, but found nothing except perhaps a grain of mirth at his expense. As he wondered why she had asked him to do this small task, he was glad he was no longer facing the strong source of light blinding him before. The light came from the Montux, a towering mountain that could be seen in the distance from the village. It was an important and almost sacred thing for the villagers. Every morning it glowed like a beam of light, the warmth of which could be felt for the next couple of hours.

After he had, quite minimally, aided Melrue in setting down the metal, Havel hesitantly continued to trail after her. The pile she had pushed the slab on was used in the upkeep of the village walls since the storms would wear them away over time. While the Montux was a goldmine for them, it had been growing ceaselessly. The sheer number of scraps had formed themselves in a body of water and outgrown it. Its sloshing was barely heard underneath the scratching and clanging of metal, the amount of which had turned the once-natural body of water into something close to a flowing body of scrap. Now the Lazarus River had started reaching up to the outskirts of the village. The Lazarus had branched off from the Silver Sea which surrounded the Montux. The Montux was crooked, leaning to the side. On the side from which it turned away stood a tall forest, and, Yael claimed, caverns of old.

“You want to see the Ruins?” With a slight tilt of her jaw, Melrue watched him from the corner of her eye, taking strides he had to jog to compete with. The Ruins, the original home of the First, were at the foot of the Montux, near the tall forest. Havel responded to her in the affirmative, trying to bite back at the desperation. He knew that he needed her to get him there, and he knew she knew it, too. The Montux went dim.

* * * * *

Havel had always felt out of sorts. When he had hung around a few other younger members of the Village, aiding them in setting up tarps to shield the Village from a storm that brought with it large and sharp debris, they spoke about things he couldn’t quite understand. When they’d look at him, he knew they were half-expecting some sort of reaction – but whether he should laugh, or nod, or say something, he could never quite reach their expectations. With some disappointment or confusion, the youths would awkwardly change topics. It was as though he was always out of step, conversationally. Always somewhat outside the inside jokes.

After a certain point, he was the only one who was finishing up the last knots. One must always take care when securing protective tarps – the knots must be firmly tied. The three others were entrenched in conversation. When he returned, Havel was met with shock at his state. He hadn’t noticed the shrapnel protruding from his skin. One of the youths, Bangor, helped him dig out the shards from his arms. Bangor did so reluctantly, fearful that the elders would realise they had left Havel up to the task alone. The Village’s survival was heavily reliant on the principle of community effort, forming a tight web where every member supported another. A web that Havel felt slack around him.

“Does it not hurt?” Bangor gave Havel a partially concerned, partially confused glance. Havel shook his head ‘no’. Bangor’s brow furrowed, and he scratched at the back of his head, perplexed. Slightly taller with fawn-beige speckled skin, Bangors’ messy clumped hair seemed to echo every slight motion of the body beneath it. Havel’s own hair was shorter, entwined around his head – the way one was supposed to wear it to avoid it being peppered with dust from the winds.

“You didn’t feel it?”

Havel shrugged. “I guess not enough.”

“Huh.” After a brief pause, Bangor gave a sly grin, “Wanna come see the Aurora tonight?”

Almost incredulously, Havel gave a smile back. “You mean, out after dark?”

Bangor’s eyeroll almost made Havel’s stomach drop before he laughed, “I won’t tell if you won’t. Just meet us southside of Montux after sunset, but when the sky’s still a little red.”

A couple hours later, Havel was approaching the agreed spot.

“I said red, not black!” Bangor had scolded, amused, and Havel apologised. Joh and Lofe had already gone ahead, but they caught up quickly. The ground below was soon made up of more and more twining roots, which became indistinguishable from the drooping branches that grew thicker and thicker the deeper they entered the forest. Ficuyan trees were the sturdiest of all. Long branches were supported not only by the thick trunk, but also by the branches that forked off to reach back down into the earth. This created a system, a web of branches, spreading outwards.

They stopped climbing when they could see the Village and past it. The climb itself was easy with the number of roots and branches that could be used for support. The steely fields made themselves known through their slight shimmering, and the Lazarus was calm and languid.

“We’ll have to move camp if they don’t do anything about the river.” Lofe sighed, swinging his feet.

“Maybe we won’t have to,” Replied Joh, “If we send a signal out there, there’s a chance someone could see it.” This confused Havel, and he asked what Joh meant.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Bangor gave Joh a side-eye, “The Firsts say they were left behind on this planet, but that’s a story that’s been passed down."

“Who knows, maybe they say that because they made the Silver Sea.” Lofe joked.

“Okay, but, like I said, there’s no way to know.”

“Wait,” Havel spoke up again, “Do you mean there could be more people?” His words hung in the air until Bangor responded.

“Maybe. Who knows.”

As the others re-engaged in conversation, Havel stared at the Lazarus below. Watching as pieces of metal slid against each other, water sputtering beneath, his mind raced to grasp the idea that there were more people out there, somewhere, in the vast unknown. And here they were, sitting on some tree.

“You’re gonna miss it.” Bangor alerted Havel, drawing his attention from the cluttered waters below up to the Aurora. A stream of dancing lights which, Havel realised as he looked closely, was a hail of meteorites, blazing in the distance above the argent sea. The meteor shower rained vertically, shining bright and fast, its reflection shimmering across the face of the Montux and the Silver Sea around it. Glittering, twinkling, majestic. In that moment, Havel didn’t feel so different from the others. Together, they watched in awe.

From that day forward, Havel would be called on during the worst winds, whose lashing dust would cause others to shrink back in pain. Yael had designed him a mask of sorts, made of the same mesh as the protective tarps, to shield his head and torso. Havel had shown him how he was unaffected by the scratches along his skin, careful not to implicate Bangor. One night, the night before his venture to the dragon, Yael was using a heated ointment to close up a few particularly deep gashes reaching up Havel’s forearms.

“I can help,” Havel asserted, “I want to.” Not being able to feel pain, Havel wasn’t wrong in stating that he could lend a hand in Yael’s plans through salvaging. Yael wasn’t too keen and had previously insisted that Havel work alongside everyone else at the bank of the Lazarus. Only Melrue would go further. Havel wanted to help, to play his part, but he was also desperate to figure out more about people. The rumours that the First had been left here by the rest of humankind had started keeping him awake at night. Most of the information about them, about the Firsts, was lost to time - and a fraction of it, he hoped, would be waiting for him in the Ruins.

“Okay, okay, listen, Havi,” Yael sighed, sitting back after having made sure the ointment was cooling right so that Havel’s skin would set correctly, “Tomorrow, go find Mel. She’s pro’ly gon’ be comin’ back from the Montux before it glows. I’ll put in a good word for you, maybe she’ll take you.”

* * * * * *

As he clambered over the sliding river of metal shards and pieces, some of which trembled because of Melrue’s thudding steps, Havel couldn’t believe what he saw. Yael had once told him that the body of metal and water had gotten bigger and bigger over time, that the scrapes and clinks of the waves sang songs one could only hear with the knowledge of music. Havel had always considered Yael to be a generous storyteller, but his tall tales paid the Silver Sea no justice. It was immense, vast, and enchanting. Havel walked along where the waves had washed up trinkets and structures of a world alien to his. Spotting something, he broke into a run, unable to overcome his excitement. Though he could have asked for help, Havel was caught up in impatience, and Melrue watched him attempt, fail, attempt, and succeed at hoisting himself into an opening.

The inside of the hull was dark, rowed with seats, with a corridor running through the middle. What was of most interest to him was at the very front – a semi-circular panel covered in symbols on shiny materials. It was so intricate that Havel felt a certain sheepishness that it was being observed by his naïve and ignorant eyes. After having taken in the sight, he resorted to rummaging around, not entirely sure of what he was looking for. Sticking his arm into a small drawer whose door had been partially dented shut, he grabbed onto something small – and suddenly, felt something chitter up along his back. He could almost see a stream of light that travelled up from his tailbone, bouncing up his spine like a xylophone. His body was reacting, but he didn’t know what to.

The adolescent brought his hand to his face and carefully opened his fingers, hoping whatever they grasped was not alive. It was a rock. No, a pebble. Crystal. Ugly gem? Havel brought it up to his eye.

“Found anything?” Her baritone voice shocked him to the point of almost dropping the stone.

“Melrue, what is this?” He held it out towards the opening through which her dark eye peered.

She answered, “Hold it in both hands.”

“Like this?” Havel felt as though he had been asking questions his entire life. “It’s not doing anything.”

“Just don’t hold it with your tiny little stick fingers,” Melrue chuckled, withdrawing from observation with a yawn, “I wouldn’t risk dropping it.”

Havel glared at the side of her head, hoping she would notice his annoyance but was also too timid to voice it. He sighed and started inspecting the rock again. Melrue was right, it most likely would have broken if he had let it go – it was lined with markings in the form of fragile ridges.

Hours later, Melrue had found a way to get inside the hull, locked in a crouch with the ceiling brushing against her head, which she was now resting on the ground. Sitting across from her, Havel was no longer preoccupied with wondering how many of him she could fit in her jaws if she had opened them, and he was instead examining the stone again. Melrue’s deep breaths breezed around him, while the wind outside had turned to whipping the flanks of the hull. When he turned the gem over, he realised what the ridges resembled – his very hands. Groggy from the lack of sleep, he followed the slight pattern of veins in his arms.

“I know it means something,” He muttered.

“If you want,” Melrue slowly offered, “I could help you.”

Havel looked up, tired eyes wide as he realised she could have helped him earlier. Before he could get angry, he remembered he hadn’t asked her for help.

“But only tomorrow, and you help me with something, hmm?”

Lips pursed in suppressed frustration, Havel wrapped the stone in his satchel, and lay down.

* * * * *

The next morning, he found himself helping Melrue drag large slates of metal from the Sea. The wind was harsh, the tides were starting to form. After the last of the Montux’s warmth was gone, Havel asked her what it was for. Melrue had begun folding and tearing the metals, a task Havel would only be able to do with cloth.

“I am not what you think.” She began, still working on whatever she was working on, her long claws stripping metal from metal, “I was once no bigger than the gem in your satchel.” Havel stared. “Yael found me,” Melrue continued, quite offhandedly, “when I was without body. He brought me from a gem like the one you have now. I was hidden on it by a wizard from a world I never saw. Yael gave me eyes, claws, wings. Sometimes, some pieces must be replaced.”

Processing what he was hearing, Havel’s confusion felt ridiculous when faced with her nonchalance. It was as though she was taking her time telling a story she had told millions of times before, waiting for him to catch up.

“My wings need to be strengthened. But I can’t do that myself.” She took a step back to look over the arches she had created – a set of wings, with thin sheets for feathers. “There’s something near the ruins I can’t reach, but you can. Stand up for me, would you?”

Havel stood, waiting for her to tell him what it was that he was meant to be reaching, and she lowered her head to his level. Her eyes felt like they were sucking the light from around them. “Don’t move.” She touched her nose against his chest on the left side, and Havel had to close his eyes as his world lit up beyond visibility. Opening his eyes again, he looked to where she had touched. Below his collar bone was a small hole, full of ridges.

When he looked back at her, he understood. Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out the rock and it slid almost seamlessly into the fissure she had created. Suddenly, the world came alive with colours Havel could not have dreamed of. The Sea’s clanging had a certain rhythm he had never recognised. The wind whistled a sweet melody he had never noticed. His face felt warm... then warmer... then he realised it was stinging. It was painful.

“Ow...” Havel recoiled, almost blinded. “Why-” He fell short of words, still somewhat reeling from the influx of sensory information. The gem protruded slightly from his chest.

“This will help you help me.” Melrue murmured, giving his stinging shoulder a bump with her nose. “These gems hold a magic that empowers the one who wields them, but there’s no bravery without fear. There’s no strength without pain. Ancient principles or whatnot.”

Looking up at the dragon, Havel realised she had a wing extended. It was small, blackened, worn, and covered in ridges and hooks. The new wings at his feet had those very same ridges along one side. He lifted an immense metal wing with ease, a task he wouldn’t have been able to accomplish without to Melrue embedding the gem into his chest moments before. Wanting to punch the air in excitement, Havel took a breath to calm himself before helping the impatient dragon clip her wings into place.

The launch into the air was something Havel wished he could experience a thousand times over. In fact, he was already looking forward to the journey back. He was grateful to the embedded gem, for without it he doubted he would have the strength to hold onto Melrue as she took flight. Knees pinched, hands struggling to grip her scales, the wind felt as though it was scalding his face as Melrue leaped into flight. The ascent felt everlasting and yet instantaneous, as suddenly, they were so far up that the Village was only the size of a hand. Maybe it was the gemstone, but for the first time, Havel felt as though he was going in the right direction.

As Melrue flew, Havel got used to the lurching of the dragon beneath him enough to look at her body. Powerful, immense, and shiny, a beast from a time he could never reach, but one that he could touch and augment. The wings were spectacular, beautiful and chittering in the wind with every flap. The Silver Sea looked more leviathan than ever from above, and Havel could see the Lazarus breaking off from the Sea and branching towards the Village. The closer they got to the Ruins the more Havel could see that the Aurora was still there, just obscured by daylight.

Melrue made her descent to where the Ruins lay, somewhere near the immense canyons at the foot of the Montux. The canyons were vast, and a thick river of silver ran through them. Havel considered naming it after himself, or Merlue, if he were to make a map of it when they returned home. The river was surrounded by the immense canyons, their purple rock striped with histories of blues and greens. The crooked Montux leaned away, but some metal streams had worked their way around nonetheless. The first thing that Havel noticed after they had landed, the second he jumped off Melrue’s back, was the silent lack of wind.

* * * * *

“What am I looking for, Mel?” Havel brushed a hand over a surface, collecting dust on his fingertips. They had managed to find a structure, half-buried and preserved. Getting inside was difficult. They had to sweep and drag all the steel and metal debris from the entrance and forcing it open had left Havel’s arms feeling sore. The square and inorganic cave held within it only a few things – some books, old shelves, a table. All peppered with dust and grime. Melrue let out a huff in response as she drew her head back, her breath launching dust into the air. She had only managed to stick her head partially inside the small corridor, but that made exploration impossible for Havel.

“Havi,” She sighed, “I can’t see inside for you.”

“Mel,” Havel spoke tentatively, politely, “is there a way I can turn it off?”

Shifting her body, Merlue tilted her head.

“The pain, Mel,” He spoke somewhat impatiently, a crack in his voice, “My face burns. My arms burn. I feel... stiff.” The rush of air had swept some dust off the table, and a shine of silver was dim but visible under the wafted dust. Using his hand to dust off the rest, he realised he was looking at a silver plate that looked no different to one he might find outside – but this one had no scratches. It had been sheltered for as long as it had been left there. “Do people always feel this way? Can they not make it stop?”

“Well, depends on who you’d ask,” Merlue shrugged, quite matter of fact. “You could make it stop if you take the gem out, I won’t stop you.” She allowed Havel to stew in that for a moment while he was dusting the silver plate before she said, “But if you want to understand others...”

Havel gave her a begrudging look and sighed. She was right. Figuring out who he was when in pain – that was something everyone else seemed to have to reckon with. And they didn’t have a choice like he did. Once the plate was dusted, it looked more like the ugly gemstone – delicately ridged. He ran his hand over it. It felt almost alive, bursting with energy that ignited between him and the stone.

“Mel, is this the thing you wanted me to-”

Suddenly, Havel’s world brightened beyond recognition like it had with the embedding of the gemstone. Hands, smothering hands, hands of ghosts, of people past. They felt him up, pushing, pressing. Overwhelming. Suffocating. He saw lives, the realities of which he would have never even considered. People whose feelings he would never feel. Stories the depth of which he couldn’t grasp. Burning forests, blackened waters, spilled blood.

When he came to, his breathing was ragged, his hands shaky.

“What-” He gasped, “What are they?”

“Who’s they?” Melrue inquired.

“They had enough shelter for everyone,” Havel was practically seething, and Melrue was taken aback to see him become so volatile. “They had enough food. They had so much knowledge. And for what? To leave us here? To starve, to die? Why are we here? Wh-”

Melrue started to interrupt him, and he only turned on her, “These are the people I want to meet? This is the humanity I want to understand? We are a dumping ground! We are waste! We are nothing to them! They left us here to deal with their trash -- the Aurora?” Havel’s inhales between screaming were ragged and pinched, “The Aurora is just the trash they throw here—Do you understand? You’re so smug with yourself, what, what!? Because you’re some s-silver dragon??” He was practically stumbling over his words with vitriol.

“Are you done?” Melrue’s voice, crackling, had never felt colder. It cut him right to the core. She knew. Did everyone? Was he the last to know? “They did their best. I don’t know exactly what the gemstone showed you, but it’s not that men are completely brutal and terrible creatures. Sure, in part. But just in part.”

* * * * *

Melrue sat and waited. She had been waiting for some time. She couldn’t follow Havel into the Ficuyan forest but had confidence that he would find the Ancient Ficuyan tree. He needed some alone time to wrestle with the information he had gained, anyhow. She hoped he would retrieve what she had brought him here for, and her tail was twitching in anticipation. He had gone into the forest, still somewhat distraught and angry. However, Melrue had brought him all this way and guided him, even if somewhat aloofly, through the knowledge she had revealed. The least he could do, Havel determined, is return the favour and get whatever she had brought him here for.

When the boy returned from the forest, he was calm. It had swallowed up his screams and tears, giving nothing back. After his fit of rage and despair died down, Havel was met only with the beauty of the largest Ficuyan in the forest. Ten times the size of the first Ficuyan near the village, Havel was only a small termite finding his way into the Ancient Ficuyan’s hollow centre. When he had found the box Melrue had described, he gave the gnarled bark one last look before making his way back. There was something about the way the trees had grown, creating their webs, despite the indifference of whoever came across them.

He put the petite box he had brought with him on a large, twisted root, and asked Melrue why hadn't felt pain like the others before the gemstone. His words were resolved, unyielding. While he was afraid of the answer, he needed to know all the same. If he could understand and stomach the fact that his home, the planet, was designed to be nothing but an afterthought, then he could understand who he was.

Melrue told him that many Montux moons ago she was a young dragon with a smaller body. In the very same Ficuyan Forest they were sitting in now, she told him she had found a large gemstone inside of the doll of a baby.

“These dolls,” She explained, “were made to comfort mothers who had lost their own children.” There it was, his raison d’être: to comfort. It wasn’t too bleak, Havel decided. “You were in one of those gemstones. You were created through ancient magic by someone powerful enough to wield it. You were made to be curious. To learn, to adapt. You just needed a growing body to do that in. Yael created that for you."

The silence lay thick. The sea whispered in the background.

“So, what now?” Havel asked, his head in his hands, quite at a loss.

“Now,” Melrue hummed with a slight smirk as she used her claws to open the box Havel had brought back from the Ancient Ficuyan. The reason she had brought him to the Ruins in the first place. “Now, we play cards.” She handed him a few laminated rectangles.

The dragon and the boy played card games long after the sun had set. In between matches, they would watch the Aurora together. It danced high above, for nobody, for everybody. When the Montux brought light and warmth back into their tired bodies they knew it was time to go home.