The Heart of Embers.

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Instead, Mythos has been an enchanting world full of magic, sorcerers, creatures of all kinds, and thrilling tales for only a few thousand years. Once a barren wasteland full of war and bloodshed, Mythos came to peace a long time ago after the war between the humans and Orcs. However, for some, the peace we now shared with the creatures of this planet wasn’t enough. And certain people thought that bringing back to life dragons of the old world would change their fate.

Eribus Gravestone was a powerful wizard with unimaginable ideas who sought draconic aid for years. In his lifetime, Eribus had worked his way through the royal guard and became an advisor for the king to prove that the kingdom Lithe needed protection. Unfortunately, the king often threw away Eribus’s foolish ideas, claiming that he was too scared of a battle they would never face. However, Eribus knew that there would eventually come a time when the humans would face an enemy they could not defeat and would need the assistance of a more vital being.

For years, Eribus plotted, and when he refused to give up his horrible plan, the king banished Eribus from Lithe. The wizard swore revenge, and that vengeance eventually came from his daughter, Cellaes. The dark caster, Cellaes, somehow survived longer than any human should, and after three hundred years of hard work, she succeeded where her father failed.

Lithe was enjoying another peaceful day in the village, as any other. The skies were bright and clear, and people of all shapes, sizes, and races were doing daily routines. When suddenly, a dark cloud appears overhead, quickly blocking any sun. People look to the skies, concerned about the sudden change in weather, and grow more concerned when lightning crackles wildly through the clouds and a downpour of rain starts flooding the streets.

Many people try their best to find cover from the downpour when the ground begins to shake violently. Objects fall all around, crashing and breaking when they hit the ground. Then, when everything is mid-chaotic shake, a loud and screeching cry echoes in the skies. Holding their ears, people look to the skies, and as a bolt of lightning lights up the clouds, they see it.

A massive shadow flies overhead, with a wing span twice the size of any creature they have ever seen. Fearful, the people run, screaming for their lives. But, among these people is a small half-elf child, holding on for dear life to her mother’s hand. Faevyre’s bright golden hair buffeted in the pouring wind and rains, her bright blue eyes glued to her mother. As Faevyre’s human mother runs through Lithe, the panic becomes too much, and the half-elf is swept from her mother in a sea of people.

Faevyre hears her mother’s cries as she is dragged further from reach, and the child tries her best to gather her feet, but soon she is thrown into a pile of boxes to the side. The half-elf winces and starts crying for her mother, but before long, she watches as a blinding light engulfs the kingdom and falls unconscious.

The boxes lying against Faevyre’s back are crushed, and the child is severely injured but not dead somehow. She lies there, only half-conscious, crying for her mother in small whimpering spurts. She can’t make out very much with her vision blurred, but a giant blurred beast shifts the remaining boxes off her body. His nostrils flared, and the beast blew hot steam from his nose, blowing Faevyre’s hair from her face. Too exhausted to move, Faevyre looks at the dragon and gently presses her small hand to its nose.

The massive beast looks at Faevyre for a few moments before gently pressing his nose to her side, causing a surging pain to shift through the child. Then, the pain burns, sears, and goes away instantly. The half-elf is left to cry as the giant beast flies off in the distance, away from the kingdom, Lithe. On her right hip, a bright red, itching scar in the shape of swirling, violent winds. Finally, the blue dragon disappears from sight with one final screech, and Lithe is rained down to quench the burning embers.

… § …

Several years after this incident, Faevyre walks through the streets of Runegard with her hood up. The half-elf approaches a sizeable wooden building; people laugh and have a great time inside. Faevyre happily trots through the large oak doors as a man is thrown past her, screaming from the brawl he just lost. She looks around the room, taking in all the different kinds of people who come to linger for the next few hours of their day.

A crowd of people gathered at the front table, watching two muscular men arm wrestle, and for a moment, Feavyre waited to see if someone would get thrown through the front window. But, then, behind them is the bar, where a man fails at seducing two women in his drunken stupor. One woman slaps the man off his bar stool, leaving an echoing sting on the surrounding bystanders watching. Then, as Faevyre moves through to the back, she sees a shifty game of cards being played behind a cracked door. Finally, one man, too drunk in his state to notice the wooden balcony behind him, stumbles back and falls to the first story.

The man hits the ground with a crunching thud, causing the people with him to laugh as they look over the balcony. The barkeep rolls his eyes, wiping a plate, and tells him to settle down or he will be cut off from more booze. Faeyvre steps over the unconscious man and walks over to a table just under the second-story balcony.

The half-elf removes her hood, revealing her once golden locks have changed to a snow white without the help of aging. Her wavy hair is waist length, and her bangs are braided from the right side of her head into two thick braids in a crown that ties off on the back right side. Her once bright blue eyes have become a softer pale blue.

Faevyre’s soft gold hood draped around her to reveal her shoulders, almost like a shawl over her chest. The open abdomen vest cuts off at her hips, and into a short skirt, with a flowing cape back that comes down to her calves. She has sleeves that start above her elbow in a kimono style, flare down to her knuckles, and sheer black gloves attached to the two middle fingers. The brooch on her hood, small hoop earrings, and sandal-styled boots are beautiful silver. And the floral wreath pattern in the center of the clip matches the Aquamarine pendant around Faevyre’s neck.

After throwing her hood down, Faevyre hears the excited gasp of a man sitting at a table of three. The goliath rises from his tiny chair and smacks his head on the corner of the balcony. Faevyre winces when the thud echoes and smiles sweetly as the giant runs over to hold her. Mourhan grabs the half-elf like a child and hoists her into the air, now that they are clear of the second story.

Mourhan is a seven-foot-tall goliath with ashen-white skin and black tribal markings all along his right and left half that divide cleanly up the middle. The marking mirrors from the center outward; they stop below his pecs and run down either arm, around the back of his skull to his face. The giant doesn’t wear a shirt, but a thick leather belt harnesses his ax to his back across one very muscular shoulder. His pants are black, and he has a fur-lined cape around his waist that flows to his ankles. His poorly-laced boots are wide with fur-lined trim that seems made of elk. The giant’s only other item is a wooden beaded bracelet on his right wrist.

When Mourhan brings Faevyre into a hug, he smiles sweetly, nearly crushing her with his loving might. “Fae! You’ve come back, little buddy! I was scared you would not make it.”

Faevyre chuckles and pats the giant’s head, trying to ease his concerns, “Take it easy, big guy. I am just fine.”

The two remaining members stand up at the table and shake their heads at the goliath. The first, a shifter named Maple, comes forward, glaring at the two. Maple has the appearance of a Jackal in her feet, tail, ears, and eyes. Her sandy-colored ears are hardly visible through her short hair if not for the black faded tips. Her long, bushy tail sways angrily behind her, a black saddle pattern intermixed with silvery hair on the base. Maple’s eyes are golden with brown specs and have slits instead of oval pupils. Finally, the shifter’s feet are the same color as her hair and fur and are padded hind legs like a jackal.

Maple wears a silver chest plate, knee guards, and a shoulder pad on her left side, with swirling patterns, etched into its edges. Beneath her armor, she has a white long-sleeved shirt, black fingerless gloves, dark pants, and knee-high leather boots overlapping her pants. Finally, the shifter has a fur pelt in a cape around her waist, showing her belt with many knives. Aside from her blades, Maple’s long, sharp claws are the only other sharp object she owns.

“Quiet down, numbskull.” Maple growls under her breath at Mourhan. “You are drawing attention from everyone in the bar.

Mourhan shrugs and hugs Faevyre again, “But Fae is back! We should celebrate!”

“Yeah, great, she is back; now, let’s not forget why she left in the first place.” The shifter snarls.

Faevyre looks at Maple, concerned, knowing that she is not usually this aggressive with her or Mourhan. However, before she can speak up, another voice interjects itself. This voice comes from the human male of the group, and the party’s leader, Darul. With a swift glare, Darul slides between everyone and holds a hand outstretched, ordering them all to chill out.

Darul is a six-foot human with dark chocolate skin and black tribal tattoos along his shoulders, arms, back, and chest. His long black hair is knotted in dreads and pulled back into a singular low ponytail. He also has hazel eyes, an eight o’clock shadow, and a muscular build like Mourhan, though not quite as large but as defined.

The human crosses his arms across his chest, covering most of the sleeveless, emerald-green V-neck vest with black and white accents. He wears a utility belt, dark brown pants, and a forest-green cloak that dangles off his shoulders, showing his muscular build. Finally, Darul has black leather boots and a hand-crafted bow tethered with some stretchable vines.

When Darul walks over, the others fall silent, knowing better than to continue arguing. With a shake of his head and a slight chuckle, the human taps his foot and verbally disciplines the other members as though they are his children. After asking everyone to play nice until they can get everything sorted out, Darul snaps his fingers a few times and looks at Mourhan to say, ‘put the half-elf down.’ With a groaning whine, the goliath does as he was stared at and sets Faevyer on the ground.

The half-elf walks over to the table, the party groups around, and sits amongst them. Darul shifts his gaze to Faevyre and clears his throat. “So?”

“So, what?” Faevyre blinks.

“Your mission. How did it go? Did you get the journal?” Darul asks again, raising a brow.

“Wait, mission? What mission? We haven’t started the assignment yet.”

Suddenly, Darul droops his head, disappointed with what he hears. “Fae, you were supposed to go out and gather the journal; that was the plan.”

“W-What? No, it wasn’t! D-Darul, we were supposed to go together as a team. But, unfortunately, I can’t get the journal on my own.”

“I told you that sending the childish cleric to do a rogue’s job was bad. I should have done this from the start. I should never have let you talk me into letting her go on her own.” Maple chimes in, growling and crossing her arms. The shifter flips a chunk of her sandy hair out of her eyes, and it falls right back as if nothing happened.

“Hey! Maple that isn’t fair. I am seventeen and can handle myself. I didn’t know you wanted me to-“ Faevyre gets cut off.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I am so tired of hearing that. Maybe try proving it every once in a while, huh?” Maple twirls a dagger, leaving the table, rolling her eyes.

“W-Wait, Maple, where are you going?”

“To do my job.”

Darul puts a hand on Faevyre’s shoulder and smiles. “Let her go. You know how Maple can be when she is upset. She can do this.”

“Why is she so angry today, though? Maple never gets mad like that, normally.” Faevyre furrows her brow.

“She’s been in a mood all morning. Try not to let it get to you.” Darul shrugs, sitting back down.

Suddenly, Mourhan scratches his bald head, tilting in confusion. “So… What are we after this journal for, anyway?”

Darul sighs and rubs his temples. “The journal of Sianna is one of the few ancient texts left in possession of the royal families with knowledge of dragons. This means that it is one of the only things people have to rid themselves of these damned marks.” Darul quiets when mentioning the marks, as though listening ears would bring trouble. “Our job is to get into the palace, here in Runegard, and take the journal to break this wretched curse.”

Mourhan shrugs, “If they have the book, why not just do that to anyone marked in the first place?”

Suddenly, Darul’s eyes darken, and he grips his fist, seething with rage. “Because those damned blue-bloods don’t care about the likes of anyone but themselves! They would rather throw us to our graves than lift a finger to help. But, of course, why wouldn’t they? We have always been lambs to the slaughter for them.” He chugs another pint of his ale and sighs angrily. “They would rather believe Cellaes’ tall tales about everyone being evil. God forbid anyone to be taken for their word when dozens of lives are at stake. And with that witch and her slithering salamander controlling all of Verone right now, we have very little to combat them. God only knows how many of them have been retained.”

“And because of this, no one is willing to step foot in Verone, knowing they will either perish or be taken into custody for her evil army… So the people here in Lanos have been trying to figure out a plan, but most have already given up hope of seeing their family on the other continent.” Faevyere sighs.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Once I cleanse us of these damned burdens, I will return to Verone myself and smite that beast from once it came. Then, it will take no more homes or burn our kin.” Darul grips his right pec when it starts to burn. Faevyre grabs her right hip and Mourhan his left thigh when each of their marks also burns. When the burning subsides, Darul holds up his glass. “I make this promise to you both. When we get this journal, I will cure all of us.”

Mourhan smiles and raises his mug. “Alright!!” The goliath shouts with gusto.

Faevyre smiles but looks at Darul, concerned, “You said you would go back to Verone when this is over, right?”

“Yes.” Darul shakes his near-empty glass.

“Well, what about us?”

Darul sighs, shaking his head. “Faevyere… We have been over this. But, as great a healer you are, you are still learning. I could never ask you to put your life in harm’s way if the beast could infect you again.”

“You wouldn’t be asking. I am going to come with you.”

Mourhan shakes a fist. “Yeah! We are a family! We won’t leave you behind!”

Darul shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “I guess we will see once we are ourselves again.”

Several hours pass and Maple has yet to return from her mission. Finally, growing concerned, Darul stands up from the table, leaving Mourhan passed out in the lap of Faevyere. The half-elf tries to stop him, but he insists that she stay here to oversee Mourhan. Despite her concerns, Darul leaves before she can stop him, and Mourhan wraps his big beefy arms around Faevyere’s waist.

Fae tries to keep Mourhan sleeping happily for another couple of hours, but her concern grows when Darul and Maple don’t return quickly. Soon the goliath wakes with a concerned look on his face and looks around. He scratches his head and yawns when he doesn’t see Darul or Maple.

“Where is everyone?” Mourhan blinks.

“Darul went to get Maple. They will be back soon, big guy. I promise.” Faevyere smiles.

Suddenly, Mourhan smirks, and his eyes darken. When he speaks, the voice is now feminine and sounds nothing like Mourhan. “You’re lying to yourself, Faevyere.”

Taken back, Faevyere stands up quickly and backs away slowly in the center of the room. She looks around for anyone who could have made that voice but soon realizes that no one else is in the bar anymore. Her hands start to fidget nervously, and sweat beads down her forehead.

“M-Mourhan?... Is everything alright?”

Still speaking femininely, Mourhan grips the handle of his ax, smiling deviously. “You know that nothing will change. Your entire party will die just like everyone else you know and love. And all because you are too WEAK!!!” Mourhan swings his ax down, missing Faevyere by a hair. “You keep trying to convince yourself that things will be different and that everything will change, but you were still that sad, pathetic little girl from Lithe all those years ago!”

“S-Stop it, Mourhan! This isn’t you!” Faevyere cries, trying to dispel magic against him.

“Your little tricks will no longer work on me, little half-elf. The clock is ticking. And in the end?” Mourhan kneels down before the half-elf and grips her chin, forcing her to stare into his eyes. “Only this time… I WIN.”

Mourhan’s face shifts into Cellaes’s, and Faevyere screams loudly, her hip burning in agony. Cellaes’ laugh echoes as the entire bar fades to black around them. Faevyere screams bloody murder and falls backward, deep into a bottomless abyss that opens underneath her. Trying to grab anything to break her fall, Faevyere screams, her fear consuming her as she tries her best to wake up from this nightmare.

“Please, be a dream, please be a dream, PLEASE!!” the half-elf cries.

Almost as she wished, Faevyre wakes up screaming and crying heavily in her sleep, Maple standing over her. The shifter, still shaking her, “Fae! Fae, calm down!! FAE!”

Maple slaps Faevyre across the face, leaving a stinging red mark on her cheek. Breathing heavily, now that she has finally woken from her nightmare, Faevyre looks over at the blurry Maple as tears pour down her face. The half-elf wraps her arms around her friend in distress, crying harder than before.

Maple shakes, unsure what to do to help, and holds Faevyre close. “Shhh…. It’s okay, pup. I’ve got you.”

“I was so scared!” Faevyre cries. “I really thought I was going to die….”

Suddenly, Darul and Mourhan burst through the door to the inn’s room. Both have their weapons drawn, ready for a battle, and look around. They seem confused, but they immediately run to Faevyere’s aid when they notice how upset she is. Maple pets the half-elf’s head, still trying her best to console her concerns when Darul approaches.

He holds his friend as she sobs hysterically, unable to contain her fear and sadness. Mourhan also grabs his friends in a big group hug, trying his best to help. When things settle down and Faevyere stops sobbing, the others look at their friend, concerned. Darul sits beside her, refusing to let go until he is confident that the half-elf will be okay.

“You okay, Fae?” Darul pats her shoulder.

Faevyre sniffles and wipes her eyes, looking up at Darul. “Y-Yeah… I think I am okay now.”

“Another dream?”

“If you can call it that….”

“Are you sure that you are okay with going through with today? Because I can hold off the mission until next time.” Darul insists.

“N-No, we have to do this. It took us two months to get this far. I can’t set us back like that.”

Maple gently touches Faevyere’s knee with the mild disposition that the half-elf was used to. “Fae, the mission is not as important as keeping you safe. You’re our family. You mean way more to us than some stupid journal.”

Faevyere shakes her head, “No, I am serious. I am fine. I promise.”

Darul gives her a fatherly stare but eventually sighs and gives in. The four pack up and travel to the enormous palace centered in Runegard. The palace gates encircle the entire building, leaving little to no way to enter or exit. The castle looks considerable, with many rooms most likely being unoccupied or used for useless reasons, leaving Darul’s blood boiling.

The group takes their positions and waits with the guards at the front gate until they are allowed access inside. Then, when the giant Iron bars open, the four step cautiously inside. Faevyere nods and stands tall, trying to look more mature for the king and queen of runegard.

A man, the king, dressed in royal garb, comes out and smiles, nodding his head to everyone. Faevyere, Maple, and Darul bow immediately, and Mourhan simply waves. The king, slightly taken back by this, shakes off his confusion and continues to introduce himself. Next to him, the queen of Runegard stands, her golden locks blowing in the wind gently. Her eyes are like daggers, and she seems to immediately distrust everyone. For the introduction, the queen remains silent and allows her husband to talk for her.

“And cleric, who are these people accompanying you?” The king asks with a raise of the brow.

Faevyere smiles and bows her head to the king before speaking. “Apologies, my king. This is Mourhan and Darul, my bodyguards. I am afraid they never leave my side for a moment. And the beautiful maiden with me is my servant, Jackal. She is simply here to help me with my blessings on this day.”

The queen glares sharply at Fae. “You are old enough to be a cleric? You seem… immature.”

Mourhan gives a look, but Faevyere holds up a hand to silence him. “I am afraid we elves look much younger than our age would have you believe. Although only half, my genetics are… quite decent at hiding my true colors.”

The queen gives an audible mumble but shakes her head and stands beside her king. The party is told about the rooms they are to bless and then leave on their way. The guards follow Faevyere and the party to each location they go. Darul tries to look for any kind of way they can escape, to find the journal, but these guards have their eyes on the party at all times.

For a while, things look bleak until the sixth blessing, when Maple looks to a guard. “Excuse me, sir. Where are your rest areas?”

“Hm? Oh, they are just down this hall here and to your left. We passed them on the way.”

“Thank you.” The shifter bows her head respectfully and tries to walk away.

However, the guard starts to follow her, and she looks back at him, blinking. “I am sorry. Is there a problem?”

“No, problem. However, we were asked to keep a solid eye on you. So if you need to use the restroom, I will accompany you to the door.” The guard salutes, banging his fist to his chest.

Maple rolls her eyes but nods and fakes a smile. “Of course. You can never be too careful. The guard walks her back to the restroom reluctantly. When she gets inside, she closes the door and looks around immediately for any window or vent that she can use. Spotting a vent in the top corner of the room, Maple takes her chance and quietly gets the vent cover off, slipping inside undetected. The guard unknowingly waits outside the bathroom for Maple to leave.

Maple quickly goes through many rooms using the ventilation system, scanning and trying her best to locate the journal as time passes. In the meantime, Faevyere continues to diligently use her cleric powers to bless each room in the palace. She keeps staring at the time as the minutes pass, and it makes her nervously sweat after some time.

Meanwhile, Maple finally finds the room with the journal. It is vast and open, making Maple believe it is full of traps, so she casts her spell. She smirks at her prowess and pings a few traps. Only one of the thirteen is not correctly taken apart, and Maple bites her lip, hoping it does not notify the guards. She grabs hold of the journal, making sure not to open it.

Back at the bathroom, the guard, watching over Maple, knocks on the door and clears his throat. “Servant, woman? Are you nearly done? We need to be heading back.” When there is no response, he glares and pushes open the door.

Inside, the room is empty aside from the wooden stall on the right, with its door wide open, he can’t see inside. The guard looks panicked, but Maple comes out of the booth. She glares at the man, causing him to calm again. Maple shakes her head at the audacity of the guard and apologizes for taking so long.

The two return to the party and Maple gives Darul a subtle nod that she has received the package. Darul clears his throat and reminds Faevyere that it is nearly dusk and they have another appointment. Fae nods her head and bows to the guards, smiling. The half-elf thanks them for their hospitality and asks to be led back to the courtyard.

Both guards nod and take the party back out the front, where they say goodbye. Everything seems to be going according to plan until a third guard approaches hastily. He waves his hands, trying desperately to stop the party. When the guard mentions that the journal has been stolen, the other two immediately look at the party and ask to search their belongings.

Darul sighs and growls slightly, then shouts, “Mourhan, now!”

Mourhan smirks, grabs both men by their helmets, and bashes their heads together, knocking them out. Darul chucks a rock at the last guard, and as soon as he hits the ground, the party takes off into the streets. Maple pants heavily before calling out an ally they can hide in, and Darul helps lead them through the alley, to another road, and then to a cellar door.

When inside, Darul waits for the clamoring footsteps of the guards, now running amok in the city to quiet. As soon as they think they are safe, Maple pulls out the book smirking slyly. When Mourhan gives her a love tap on the shoulder, she chuckles, and Faevyere hugs her tight. All of their problems were about to be fixed in one final moment.

Faevyere takes the book and starts scanning through its pages, but with each word, her face turns to glum and instant fear. Finally, her face pale, she shakes, her heart stopping instantly. “Darul… I… I can’t read this.”

The others look at their half-elf with dread, but Darul comes over and takes the book. Indeed it must have been written in something other than common or elvish. This means he would be able to read it with his vast language. But as he too scans the pages, Darul finds that he cannot read the book either.

With hearts sinking, they all stand together and look to Darul for guidance. Darul infuriated that he cannot read the text that would save their lives, throws one of the daggers into a wall. The others shake and gulp, and Mourhan is the one to ask where they will go from here. For a moment, Daru thinks, and then he calms himself.

“First thing is first… we have to get out of here.” Darul sighs, quieting when he hears the guards again. “Everyone, follow me.”

Without question, they leave and thankfully manage to escape Runegard without injury. That night, the party rests at a campsite far away from the village, and Faevyere looks deeply into the flames. Darul looks at the fires and sighs deeply as well. Mourhan and Maple are sleeping soundly and don’t show signs of waking soon.

With her knees to her chest, Fae asks Darul, “Whare are we gonna do, Dar?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Darul sighs.

Faevyere suddenly gets tears in her eyes. “Dar, are… Are we going to die?”

Darul immediately holds the half-elf in an embrace. He trembles and thinks back on his past. “Absolutely not. This isn’t the end… Only the beginning.”