Revaramek the Resplendent - Missing Chapter I (Patreon)

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Additional Chapter I

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“Made of sand.” Mirelle toyed with a lingering bit of egg, dragging it across her plate with her fork. “You mean, he was literally sand?”

Revaramek grunted, idly stroking Nyra’s foreleg. “Sure as hell seemed like that.”

The two dragons sat at a long wooden table on The Cathedral’s back patio. He’d helped her make the short journey from her bed of blankets to the patio, where Beka and Tavaat had arranged a grand breakfast for everyone. There were enough eggs and sausages and other delights to feed the dragons, as well as the others. They’d even invited Binir to join them. Revaramek let the humans and Tavaat fill up their plates first before he served Nyra, Korakos, and himself. After that, they’d shared a pleasant meal together. Revaramek translated for Nyra, and allowed her to converse a little with his other friends. Both Nyra and Korakos were quite taken with the human foods provided to them, particularly sausages and bacon. As the meal wound down, and Nyra busied herself with making sure Korakos didn’t gorge himself into a coma, Revaramek shifted his attention to Mirelle, filling her in on the past night’s myriad events. Revaramek was thankful for her rapt attention and scarce interruptions. It made it far easier to catch her up.

Mirelle speared her last hunk of sausage, adding it to the egg already affixed to her fork. “Did he look like…” She gestured with her utensil towards the tree line. “One of those little sand figurines, only full size?”

Revaramek grimaced, his ears back. That was an altogether too apt comparison for his liking. “Actually, yes. Imagine one of those, painted with exquisite detail to look like real fur. Only it kept crumbling, and rebuilding itself. Until it couldn’t be bothered to hold itself together anymore, and it just…blew away, on the wind.”

Mirelle shivered. “That’s a new one to me.” She stared at her bite of food as if suddenly unsure if she wished to finish her meal. “It sounds horrifying.”

Revaramek murmured his agreement, nodding once. “For perhaps the first time in my life, I’d have rather it was just Asterbury.”

“First time for everything, I suppose,” Mirelle said, chuckling. She finished off her food, and pushed her plate aside. “I think you’re right, though. That definitely wasn’t him. That’s not his style, at all. I think the Father is a good guess, but…” She scowled, folding her arms. “That’s all it is. A guess.’

“I’ve taken to calling him Everyone Dies.” Revaramek’s claw tips slipped free, responding to some instinctual fear. “Because I think that’s the world he’s from.”

Mirelle shrugged. “It’s a bit of a mouthful for a name, but it’s as good as anything else.” She glanced away, staring towards the stretch of sand in the distance. “You know, Rev, while you were gone I read all those books. The ones Asterbury used as an example in Enora’s yard, all those years ago.”

Revaramek nodded. “The ones about Vakaal.” He gestured with a forepaw. “I’ve read the primary story, and I’ve skimmed the others. I can’t say as they provide any real insight to this situation, given that they don’t really follow the Father, so much as Vakaal.”

“Maybe.” Mirelle continued to stare at the sand. “They are relevant, though. Vakaal…” Her face twisted up. “Vakaal dies in some of the others. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

Revaramek looked down, staring at the wooden flooring beneath his paws. “Likely not. And yet, I don’t know that any of those were about the same Father as I met last night.”

“Who can say? For all we know…” Mirelle returned her attention to the dragon. “He could be some creation of Vakaal.”

“What do you mean?” Revaramek tilted his head.

“It’s implied in some of those stories that…” Mirelle drummed her fingers against her arm, searching for the right words. “Vakaal was the real desert god, and all the other urd’thin were just his creation. So, what if Vakaal was the real Storyteller they were all searching for, not the Father? What if he built himself a father, and…then when that Vakaal was gone, what becomes of his creation?”

Revaramek scratched his head beneath a horn. “You’re going to give me a headache, Mirelle. I think we should be trying to make this less complicated, not more so.”

Mirelle chuckled. “I’m just throwing out ideas, here. But you’re probably right. Nonetheless, I don’t think we really have any control over how complex the situation is.” A dark look passed across her face. “What if it’s actually him?”

“Who?”

“The Storyteller.” Mirelle leaned forward, adding dangerous emphasis. “The Storyteller. The same one Jekk’s ancestors were chasing. We’ve basically assumed that…” She pursed her lips. “Entity was…Asterbury’s father, or ancestor, but…I don’t know that we’ve ever really considered what would happen if we came face to face with him. Especially…” She waved her hand. “Freed from whatever illusory veil of mortality he’d wreathed himself in while raising a child.”

Revaramek shuddered, his scales clicking together. “I don’t think that was The Storyteller, but…” The dragon shrugged his wings. “If it was, maybe I should try a little harder not to piss him off. I’d rather not give him a reason to break another world.”

Mirelle only stared at him.

Nearby, Tavaat glanced down the table towards the dragons. “Is this the sort of conversation I really shouldn’t be hearing?”

Revaramek tossed his head. “That depends on how vivid you’d like your nightmares to be, Tavaat.”

“You know what?” The va’chaak bit off a hunk of sausage, turning away. “I think I’m just gonna try and zone you two out like Beka’s doing.”

“What’s that, dear?” Beka glanced towards the lizard. “I thought I heard my name.”

Tavaat patted her hand. “Just admiring your ability to tune out our benevolent overlord.”

Beka lowered her voice to a playful whisper. “Oh, that’s quite easy. I had years of practice tuning out Mirelle the same way.”

“Hey!” Mirelle slapped the table and laughed.

“On second thought.” Revaramek stretched his neck towards the va’chaak. “As a councilmember, perhaps this is exactly the sort of thing you ought to be hearing.”

“Why?” Tavaat grunted. “What are we gonna do, vote to ban your sand god from visiting the town again? I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“Fair point.” Revaramek returned his attention to Mirelle. “But we should loop in the others, just the same. Especially Jekk. He may remember something from his youth that’s relevant.”

Mirelle nodded her agreement. “And if not, he can at least raid the old Storyteller knowledge vault, see if he can dig up anything relevant.”

“Right.” Revaramek reached across the table, dragging a large bowl towards himself. A few lingering slabs of salty, fried bacon lingered in its depths. He plucked one and popped it into his muzzle, savoring the rich, fatty flavors. “And I’ll like Enora to help him, as she did when we were searching for information on Star’s Blessing. Two sets of eyes will make quicker work of it. And it’s always possible she know something pertinent, herself. Who knows what Asterbury may have let slip when they ventured into that desert all those years ago.”

“Good idea.” Mirelle picked up a mug filled with ale, staring at the lacy foam circling it. “On that note, I’ll get the whole council to help, myself included.” She took a drink. “I doubt we’ll find anything helpful at this point, but like you said. The more of us looking, the faster it’ll go, and the better our chances.”

“Oh, good.” Tavaat leaned towards Beka, feigning anger. “You hear this shit, Beka? The old bag who runs this town is gonna make me work on my day off!”

Beka gasped, putting a hand over her chest. “The nerve of that bitch!” She dropped her voice again. “Better be careful what you say around her, Tavaat. I hear she’s a real ball breaker.” Then she leaned around him to wave and smile sweetly at Mirelle. “Oh hello, Head Councilwoman!”

Mirelle just rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut the hell up, both of you.”

At the far end of the table, Binir chuckled to herself, scooping up the last of her eggs. “It’s a wonder the lot of you manage to get any work done in that council building.”

“You’d be surprised.” Mirelle jerked her thumb at the dragon. “Without this scaly lump’s ill influence, we tend to get far more accomplished.”

“Ill influence?” Revaramek slapped a forepaw against the table, rattling plates and bowls. “I’ll have you know my influencing is as benevolent as my overlording!” He tilted his head, smiling towards the older woman. “You see, Binir, benevolent means-”

“I know damn well what benevolent means, Dragon.” Binir offered the dragon a curt smile, then gestured towards Nyra. “And speaking of which, now that your lovely mate has fed, it’ll be about time for you to do your benevolent duty and mix up her next round of medications.” She inclined her head towards Tavaat. “Thanks to his help, we’ve sorted out everything you need for both her oral medications, and her wound salves. Should be enough to last you three or four days. So I’ll leave you and her in peace until midweek, or so. However, should you spot any sign of trouble with her wound, I want you to send for me immediately. Not the next day, not even if you’ve stopped for a piss.” She snickered to herself. “Immediately. Understood?”

Revaramek bowed his wedge shaped head in appreciation. “Absolutely, Healer Binir. I promise you, I shall handle her treatments with aplomb.” He turned his head over so slightly to smirk at Mirelle, who completely ignored him. “And I shall send for you should even the slightest complication arise.”

“See that you do.” Binir stood up from the table, taking her empty plate with her. “In that case, I’m afraid I must bid you all farewell for the day. I’ve other patients to attend this afternoon. But…” She offered Beka, Tavaat, and Mirelle a low bow. “Thank you ever so much for breakfast, and for your hospitality.” Then she turned towards the dragons. “Revaramek, please ask Nyra if there’s anything she needs for me, or has any other questions for me, before I go.”

“Nyra,” Revaramek said, offering her one of the last pieces of bacon. “The healer says we should give you your next round of medications soon. She also wishes to know if have anything you need from her, or any questions, before she leaves.”

“I don’t think so.” Nyramyn gently took the bacon from his grasp, careful not to bite his pads. She chewed it up, thrumming happily. Then she tilted her head. “You didn’t tell her about Korakos healing me, did you?”

“Not yet.” Revaramek glanced towards the hatchling, seated next to his mother and half asleep. “I told her your wound looked good this morning, and while she wished to check it herself, she’s willing to wait a few days. We’ll…tell her what we need to, when the time comes.”

Nyramyn nodded. “Alright then. In that case, no. I don’t have any other questions. But please thank her for all her help.”

Revaramek switched back to the human tongue to address Binir again. “She doesn’t have anything to ask, right now. But she does wish to express her deepest gratitude for your assistance.”

Binir bowed her head. “She’s extremely welcome.” When she straightened again, she offered Beka a polite smile. “Tell you what. Since I commandeered your spouse while you were cooking, I’ll help you do the washing up before I go.”

“Oh, thank you!” Beka pushed to her feet as well, picking up her plate. “I’ll start carrying things back in, then.” She glanced at the others. “No hurry, though. You dragons can help yourself to what’s left, if you’re still hungry.” She paused, and after a moment, nudged Tavaat with her elbow. “Well, come on then. Help me carry things in.”

“Huh?” Tavaat glanced up at her, his little red frills lifted. “But you just said there weren’t no hurry.”

“For them!” Beka inclined her head towards the two dragons. “He’s clearly trying to talk to Mirelle about super secret things we’re not supposed to hear.”

Tavaat just stared at her. “I literally just heard all of it. I wish I hadn’t, but I heard of all of it.”

Mirelle leaned back in her chair. “You’re on the Council, Tavaat. You probably would have heard about it one way or another. And then…” She made a sweeping gesture towards Beka. “You’d have gone home, and said…” Mirelle lowered her voice to a gruff tone. “Beka, you ain’t gonna believe the shit I heard today! There’s sand gods in town and Rev’s kid does magic and shit!”

Tavaat grunted, flicking his tail. “My voice ain’t that hoarse.”

Mirelle only grinned at him. “Be that as it may, I think what Beka really wants, is for you to volunteer to do her share of dishes, after she did all the cooking.”

“Oh, right.” Tavaat snorted. “Volunteer. I get it.” He made a show of pushing his chair back, and standing up with a flourish. “I say, my lovely lady, why don’t you let me wash the dishes for you?”

Beka gasped as if in shock. “You’d do that for me?” She shoved her plate into the va’chaak’s arms. “Why, I’d marry you if you weren’t a hideously malformed old lizard!”

“Hey!” Tavaat grumbled under his breath, stacking more plates and bowls. “I ain’t malformed.”

Beka put her hands on her hips, looking him over. “Not that malformed, anyway.” She picked up a few utensils and added them to his collection.

“Yanno, it’s not like I was just sittin’ around on my tail, in there.” He tilted his head towards the Cathedral. “I was helpin’ Binir.”

“And now you’re helping her again!” Beka gathered up drinking mugs in her arms. “ Do come along.” She turned away, walking to the Cathedral.

“Thank you for the food, Beka!” Revaramek waved a paw at her back.

“You’re welcome!”

The dragon smiled to himself, his frills raised, as he watched them depart. “Those two are practically made for each other.”

“They really are,” Mirelle said. “But then again…” She waggled her finger between Rev and Nyra. “So are you two.”

Revaramek’s smile only widened. “That we are.” He stretched a wing, curling it across Nyra’s back. She snuggled up against his side, retrieving a leftover link of sausage. Revaramek helped himself to another piece of bacon. He chewed it thoughtfully, his ears slowly splaying back as his thoughts returned to their earlier conversation. “He can’t really be the Storyteller, Mirelle.”

“Who, Tavaat?” Mirelle glanced over just in time to watch the lizard’s tail disappear through the Cathedral’s back entrance. “I dunno, he seems fed up enough with our shit to be a god.”

Revaramek laughed at that, tossing his head. “That’s not bad, Mirelle. Really, though, I think if the night’s visitor was the Storyteller, he’d have just…I dunno. Re-written things? Gotten in my head and changed my mind himself? Or just…erased us?”

Mirelle scrunched her face. “Would he, though? Even when Vakaal and his Father were held captive, it took years of torture to finally make him decide the charade was over. If he could show those assholes that kind of restraint, I’d like to think he’d show us at least a little bit more.”

Revaramek clenched his jaws, his spines flattened. “He did seem quite reluctant to harm me. And even more so, the others.” He lifted a forepaw, unsheathing a single claw. “Reluctant, but not unwilling. He made that part quite clear.” The dragon curled his neck, gazing at his son. Korakos now rested against Nyra, his eyes closed. “Which is why we need to be prepared, before we go. Korakos will be part of that.”

Mirelle blinked. “Korakos? How? You made it sound like using his spark was dangerous for him.”

“Not always.” Revaramek turned his head back towards Mirelle. “After all, he’s been using it for years. Every time Nyra was away, in the swamp, he told himself the stories that eventually led them here. His spark made those stories real. What happened last night was different. He was trying to do something that…” He crinkled up his snout. “That wasn’t meant to happen. As Asterbury used to say, he was trying to burn the vellum. To make a wholesale change to the story, so to speak. His body’s not ready to channel that kind of power. He’s too young. But that’s not what I’m going to ask him to do.”

Mirelle inclined her head, waiting. “Dare I ask?”

Revaramek leaned against his tail, rubbing his forepaws together. “I’m not sure I want to put it into words, just yet. But…I’m the hero, right?”

Mirelle arched a brow. “You’ve certainly taken to calling yourself that, at least.”

“Oh, please, Mirelle.” Revaramek waved a paw as if shooing away her playful derision. “You’ve statues devoted to my heroics. Everyone in town knows I’m a hero.”

“If you say so.” She rolled her eyes. “Just get on with it, Rev.”

“Let me put it another way.” He patted his chest plates. “This place choseme. This story, this world, whatever you want to call it. Even Asterbury said, it had made me it’s hero. Do we agree on that?”

Mirelle nodded. “As much as it pains me to admit it, yes. It was as if you were always going to win.”

Revaramek’s smile returned. “As if I was always going to win. And that’s all I’m going to ask Korakos to do. To make sure I win. He won’t have to change anything, Mirelle, because I’m this world’s hero. I’m already supposed to win. I’m just going to have Korakos use his spark to…” He circled his paw in the air, searching for the right word. “Amplify what’s already there, before we leave. To make sure I’m…” He glanced at Nyra, then back at Mirelle. “No, to make sure we’re ready to deal with this…well, whatever the hell he is. And then, while we’re gone? I’ll have Korakos tell a story, every night, in which we succeed, save Nyra, and come home to him safely.”

“It certainly can’t hurt.” Mirelle picked up her mug, and took a long drink of ale.

“Mirelle, his stories saved him from a world in which he was meant to die.” He lifted his ears, arching his neck. “I cannot fathom what they can do, here in a world in which he’s meant to live.” His expression falted, his frills drooping. “But you’re wrong about one thing. It’s going to hurt immensely. Because first, we must tell him that we’re leaving him here.” Cold talons pricked at Revaramek’s heart. “Which…” He turned his head to nuzzle Nyramyn. “We’re going to do in a little while. Probably before Nyra’s next round of medicine, so she’s fully cognizant for it.”

Mirelle leaned across the table, gently placing her hand atop Revaramek’s. “It’ll be alright, Rev. You’ll find the right words, I promise.”

Revaramek lowered his muzzle to brush his chin against Mirelle’s head. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She patted his forepaw. “Do you want me to stick around, in case you need extra support?”

“No, but the thought is appreciated.” He gently nuzzled her hair, then lifted his head. “Whenever you’re ready, you should send word to the council, and Enora. Get them started on pouring through all the archival materials.”

“I’ll send word immediately.” Mirelle patted his forepaw before standing up. “With any luck, we’ll be knee deep in boring old books by late afternoon.”

“Knee deep?” Revaramek shook his head. “No, no, Mirelle. This is important! I’m going to need you all to be at least ass deep in boring old books.”

Mirelle chuckled, picking up her plate and mug. “Very well, Rev. Just this one, I’ll go ass deep for you.”

“Oh, Mirelle!” Revaramek put a paw over his chest, playfully purring. “Not in front of Nyra!”

Mirelle turned away, still laughing. “She can watch, if she wants, but I don’t think it’ll be as fun as it sounds.”

“Are you two flirting?” Nyra swatted at him with a forepaw.

“Mirelle’s suggesting dirty things!”

“Well, tell her I’ll allow it, but…” Nyra flashed him a grin, her frills raised. “Only if I get to watch.”

“Funny you should mention that.” He waved at Mirelle as she walked towards the tavern. “She just made a similar joke.”

Nyra grunted, splaying her ears. “I have got to learn her language. I miss all the fun.” She sighed, then looked around, shifting her wings. “If everyone’s leaving, perhaps we should return to the blankets. I think I’d like to lay back down.”

“Certainly, my love.” Revaramek withdrew his wing from across her back, then pushed himself up to his paws. “I’ll help you down there. And before your medication, we should…” He gestured with a wing tip towards the sleepy hatchling. “Tell him the truth.”

Nyramyn cringed, her wings sagging. “Alright. I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Do you want me to take the lead?” She gently scooped Korakos up in a foreleg. “I’m used to breaking that kind of news, to him.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to let you start.”

“Alright.” She passed Korakos to his father. “Hold him while I get up.” When her limbs were free, Nyra slowly stood up.

Korakos wiggled in Revaramek’s grasp. He blinked awake, staring up at Revaramek. “I’m hungry!”

“You cannot be hungry,” Revaramek said, laughing. “You just ate an entire bowl of sausages and eggs.”

Korakos smacked a paw against Revaramek’s scutes. “I want sausages and eggs!”

“You just had…” He trailed off, then set Korakos down atop the wooden table. “You know what? Knock yourself out. If you want to eat more, eat more.”

Nyramyn leaned against Revaramek, flicking her tail in irritation. “He’s going to make himself sick.”

“And he’ll remember not to overeat next time.”

Nyramyn arched her neck, glaring at her mate. “You never do.”

Revaramek stared back at her. After a moment, he relented, and called out to their child. “Korakos, don’t eat too much, you’ll make yourself sick.”

Korakos trotted across the table, peering into each remaining bowl. “The food’s all gone!”

“And what a shame that is.” Revaramek swept a foreleg towards the bed of blankets and cushions beneath the nearby pine trees. “Come on, love, I’ll help you to your temporary lair.”

“I’m not sure a few blankets spread on some grass counts as a lair.” Nyramyn rested her weight against Revaramek as they crossed the patio, then gingerly descended the small stairway, onto the grass.

“Nonsense,” Revaramek said, bracing himself against her, and matching her pace. “They’re under trees. Which is just like being under stone. It’s practically a cave!”

“They’re adjacent to trees, at best.” Nyra’s progress was slow but steady. She took one careful step at a time, until eventually she was able to lay down upon her thick pile of blankets. The tall pine trees sheltered her from the increasingly warm sun. “It’s shady, at least.”

“Exactly!” Revaramek settled down to lay at her side. “And being in the shade counts as being under the trees. Therefor, lair!”

Nyramyn tossed her head. “You know, it’s good we’re in the shade. Because your brain has clearly spent too much time in the sun.”

“I shall take that to mean you find me fiercely intelligent.”

Nyra tilted her head, staring at him. “No, I find your brain to be a baked potato.”

Revaramek cackled, shaking his head. “Ouch, Nyra! My ego! Besides, where did you even learn those words?”

“From Mirelle.” Nyra swished a paw. “It’s some kind of food you translated for me, right? Some roasted plant root? It seemed appropriate.”

“Well, it isn’t.” Revaramek looked away, thumping his tail against the blankets. “My brain is not a roasted plant root.”

“No, I suppose you’re right.” Nyra nipped at his neck. “At least the roasted plant root would have some measure of usefulness.”

“Again, ouch!” Revaramek placed a paw over his heart. “It’s like you just keep kicking my ego in the balls.”

“Good.” Nyra nipped his neck again, then rested her muzzle across it. “Perhaps it will learn a little humbleness from the experience.”

Revaramek shook his head, laughing. “Unlikely. I certainly never have, no matter how many times Mirelle’s kicked me.”

“You’re only saying that to dissuade me from adopting her favored tactics.”

“Is it working?”

“That remains to be seen.” Nyra inclined her muzzle enough to give his neck a lick. “Do you think we should call Korakos over? To…” She slowly lifted her head. “You know. Tell him?”

Revaramek took a slow, deep breath. Korakos was still atop the patio table, licking out the inside of a bowl that once held sausages. Beka waited nearby to claim the container, with Korakos blissfully ignorant of her intentions, or the fact he was making her wait. Revaramek slowly pushed himself up onto his haunches, curling his tail around his paws. As much as he dreaded the coming conversation, so too was he eager to get it over with.

“I suppose the sooner we break his heart, the sooner it can mend.” As Nyra started to sit up, Revaramek stretched his wing out across her back. “You can stay down, love. Rest.”

Nyra brushed his wing away with her own, easing onto her haunches. “I should rather sit up, for this. I’ll have plenty of time to go back to lazing around afterwards. Let’s just get this done with while we have the nerve.”

“As you wish.” Revaramek folded his wings, gently patting her forepaw with his. He took another slow, steady breath inwards, steeling himself for what was to come. Already, anticipation of his son’s coming sorrows left his belly cold, his blood colder still, and his heart trembling. “Korakos? Korakos!” Revaramek waited until he had his son’s attention before continuing. “Come over here, son. Your mother and I need to talk to you.”

Korakos tilted his head, then hopped down off the table, and trotted down the patio stairs. “Okay, father!”

Revaramek glanced at Nyra. “Do you think that was too much? It already sounds like we’re going to give him bad news, doesn’t it? I hope he doesn’t think he’s in trouble. Should I put that differently? More gently?”

Nyra merely bumped her nose against his. “It was fine, Rev. However you called him over, the end result is going to be the same. But we’ll get through this, and so will he. He was always so strong, in the swamp…” Nyra swallowed and glanced away. “When I had to leave him behind. I know he’ll be just as strong, now.”

“That he will.” Revaramek squeezed her paw, and gave her neck a gentle lick.

Korakos hurried across the grass towards his parents. The little dragon’s gait was swift and bouncy at first, his head held high and tail streaming behind him. But as he drew near his parents, his body language shifted. His pace slowed, his tail hung low, and his ears slowly flattened back as he approached his mother and father.

Revaramek could only imagine what Korakos must have seen in his parents. Something stern, solemn, and anxious, a pall laid across their wings. In the dark and distant recesses of his own memory, he glimpsed a similar look upon his own mother, so very long ago. Try as she might, she could never quite hide her own fear, whenever she had something terrible to tell him. Korakos must have seen the same look now, a dreadful weight in their drooping ears, a quiet pain in their eyes. He came to a stop, his little frills limp against his head, and stared up at the two of them with wide, fearful eyes.

The hatchling whimpered, turning his gaze up to his mother. “What’s wrong, Momma?”

“Korakos…” Nyra’s voice was soft, but hoarse with swirling emotions. “Your father and I have something important to tell you. We…” She swallowed, her body tensing. “We have to-”

“You’re leaving.” Korakos stared up at Nyra, his jaw trembling. Sudden tears brimmed in his eyes. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

Nyra’s muzzle hung open. “Kor…how did…”

Korakos whimpered, his gaze dropping to the ground beneath his tiny paws. “You always look sad, when you’re leaving.” He shifted his weight back and forth. “And…you tell me to be strong, and I am! And I go on patrol, and I protect the cave but…but…” His head shot right back up, defiance burning in his wet golden eyes. “Why are you leaving?” Korakos stepped towards his mother, anger heating his shaking voice. “We already found the clean water! We already found Father! You don’t have to leave anymore!” He smacked at her forepaw, growling at her. “Don’t leave me, Momma! You don’t have to leave me, anymore! We already found our new home!”

Nyramyn whined, a long low sound of motherly anguish that tore Revarmek’s heart asunder. She sat, frozen, staring down at her angry child. Silent tears ran down her muzzle, and she choked back a sob. “Kor, I…I don’t want to leave you, but-”

“Then don’t!” Korakos slapped at her paw again, his voice breaking. “Stay here! With me! With father! We have clean water now! You don’t have to leave, you don’t-”

“Korakos!” Revaramek hissed his son’s name with such sharpness it startled him almost as much as it startled the hatchling. Korakos jerked his head around to stare at his father, instead. As soon as he had the youngling’s attention, Revaramek spoke to him the simple, terrible truth. “Your mother is dying.”

Nyramyn gave a gasp, turning wide eyes to Revaramek. But she did not contradict him, nor did she attempt to dissuade him from telling Korakos what was really going on. Instead, she only whimpered, and nuzzled at his neck, a silent plea for him to continue while she gathered herself.

“M-momma’s…dying?” Korakos’s head shot back and forth, frantically looking between his parents. A whimper crept up his throat. “N-no! No!” Soon, the whimper became a sob, drawn out into a long, plaintive cry. “Noooo!” He flung himself against Nyramyn’s leg, clutching it tightly and crying into her scales. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I was mad! I’m sorry I hit you! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Momma!”

“Oh, Kor, no!” Nyramyn picked him up, cradling him against her chest.

Revaramek sniffled, stretching a wing across Nyramyn. “I know, Nyra, I know. And he was already taking it the wrong way, so…I had to tell him all of it.”

Nyramyn managed a nod of agreement, snuggling her son against her scales. “It’s alright, Kor. It’s alright. You’ll be alright. I still have plenty of time left, and…” She trailed off, lifting her eyes to Revaramek.

Something terrible hung there, just behind her gaze. Some horrible, misty uncertainty, a fog of deepest dread. Revaramek knew right away what it was. Nyra was afraid to tell Korakos they might be able to save her. Now that he knew the truth, she feared to give him hope, lest Revaramek should fail, and dash that hope against the blackest rocks of despair.

Revaramek understood that fear all too well, and yet it was the dragon’s fervent belief that hope was, in and of itself, vital. If there were nothing left to hope for, then what point was there in putting one paw before the other, day after day? To Revaramek, hope was as vital as breath. He knew, if the worst happened, he would find a way to accept Nyra’s loss. But he could never accept allowing her to die, without so much as giving her and Korakos something to hope for. If Nyra could not bring herself to put that hope into words, then Revaramek would gladly take that burden across his wings on her behalf.

“Korakos,” Revaramek said, forcing strength into his voice. “Take a deep breath, son. And look at me.”

The hatchling did as he was asked. He took a shaking breath, turning his attention to his father. His jaws still trembled and his wings shook, but he kept his sobs under control. A few more tears spilled down the fine, pebbly scales of his cheeks while he waited for Revaramek to speak. Nyramyn gently stroked his wings, cradling him.

“Your mother is very sick.” Revaramek did all he could to keep his voice even, and measured, even as a tempest raged within his heart. His throat ached, threatening to constrict and silence him, to reduce him to the same tears his family shed. It was all he could do to fight them off. “You already know that.”

“Uh huh.” Korakos managed a little nod, his voice barely more than a pained whimper. “I gave her my food to make her stronger.”

Nyramyn battled another sob, her whole body quivering.

“I know you did, son.” Revaramek’s throat tightened further, and still he forced himself onwards. Tears brimmed in his eyes. The dragon blinked them away as quickly as they came. “And I’m so proud of you for taking care of your mother. But I think, in your heart…you know how sick she really is.”

Korakos swallowed, then craned his neck to stare up at his mother’s face. After a long, agonizing moment, he simply nodded. “She’s not gonna get better?”

“Not on her own, Korakos. That’s why-”

“Can I heal her?” Korakos pulled a paw free, and held it up, staring at it as if marveling at its own power. “Like last night?”

Revaramek swiftly shook his head, sharpening his tone. “No, Korakos. Your mother’s sickness is beyond your abilities. Remember, even healing her wound was more than your body could withstand. And her sickness is deep inside her. In all her organs. If you tried to heal her that way, you…” Revaramek let his eyes meet Nyra’s, silently asking permission to tell Korakos the truth about this, too. Nyra cringed, but bowed her head in agreement. “You could hurt yourself, Korakos. You could even die, too.”

Korakos gave a frightened gasp, his eyes widen. “Doing my magic is bad?”

“No, son.” Revaramek reached out with both forepaws to reverently grasp Korakos’ little limb between them. “Your spark is a beautiful, wonderful gift. But the sad truth is, you’re simply not ready to wield it that way. Even for me, using my spark takes a lot of out of me. And I’m full grown. For a hatchling like you, it’s simply too dangerous. If you truly tried to heal your mother’s illness with your powers…” Revaramek shivered, choking back a sob. “I…I could lose you both. So promise me, Korakos…”

“Promise us both,” Nyra said, her voice a shattered whisper.

Revaramek nodded, patting Kor’s forepaw. “Promise us both, that you will never try to use your spark, to heal your mother’s illness.”

Korakos looked between his parents, his tail hanging limp across Nyra’s foreleg. He whined, and then gave a long, defeated sigh, ears drooping. “I promise, Momma. I promise, Father.”

“Good boy.” Revaramek leaned down to give his son a few gentle, loving licks. He tilted his muzzle when Korakos returned the affection, then lifted his head again. “Now, Korakos, there’s something else we have to tell you. There’s a chance we can-”

“Are you going back to the swamp?” Korakos peered at Nyra’s face again, pain etched across his tiny muzzle. “Is that why you’re leaving?”

“What?” Nyra shook her head. “No, Kor, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Because…” He stared at her for several long, silent moments, until another pitiful whimper escaped him. “Because you used to have bad dreams…” Korakos looked down, body sagging. “About your momma going crazy, and…chasing you down, when she was dying. Are…are you going to the swamp to die, so you don’t chase me?”

“Oh, no, Korakos!” Nyramyn hugged him tighter again, rubbing his wings. “No, Korakos, those were only ever dreams. That never really happened. And I’m not going to the swamp to die. I promise you that. Besides, I have…” She glanced at Revaramek. “Years left, at least. You’re not losing me yet, my lovely son.”

“Then…” Kor tilted his head back, gazing up at each of them. “Then why are you leaving?”

“Because you might not be losing her at all.” Revaramek cupped Korakos’s chin in a forepaw. “Korakos, your mother and I are both leaving soon. Because somewhere out there in the world, is a way to save her life.”

Nyramyn cringed, her ears flat, but she did not contradict her mate.

Korakos blinked up at his father. “You…you can save momma?”

Every overconfident fiber of Revaramek’s being screamed at him to say, ‘yes’. Yes, Korakos, he wanted to say. Yes, I’m going to save your mother. But when he opened his muzzle, only the terrible truth spilled from his tongue. “I don’t know, Korakos. But I’m damn sure going to try. And you’re going to help me. In fact, you already have.”

The hatchling tilted his head. “I helped?”

“Mhm.” Revaramek gently caressed Korakos’ neck, earning a tiny purr. “You remember the words you woke up with in your head, when you first came here?”

Korakos scrunched his muzzle in thought. “From the furry thing?”

Revaramek managed a fleeting smile. “Yes, from the furry thing. Do you remember what you said?”

“Uh huh.” Korakos looked up at the sky, as if to see the stars beyond the azure veil of day. “Star’s Blessing.”

“That’s right.” Revaramek peered up as well. “Star’s Blessing. That phrase is a clue, placed in your head by…” He grunted, unsure how best to describe Asterbury to his son. “Someone I once knew, who owes me a great debt. And I think he’s trying to repay that debt, by helping me to save your mother. And the words, Star’s Blessing?” Revaramek lowered his gaze, peering to the east. He lifted a forepaw, pointing that way. “It’s leading us there. Far, far beyond the marsh, and past the mountains that frame it, into a great, unknowable desert. Where your mother and I hope to find a cure for her illness.” Slowly, Revaramek lowered his forepaw. “But we can’t take you with us. It’s too dangerous out there for hatchlings.”

Korakos wriggled around in his mother’s grasp. “Because…the sand thing is there?”

An instinctive growl crept up Revaramek’s throat. His clawtips slipped free, and his spines stood on end. “Yes, Korakos. Because the sand thing is there.”

“But…” Korakos’s gaze flicked between his parents again. “What if he comes here again? While you’re gone.”

“He won’t.” Revaramek grit his teeth, wishing he knew that for an absolute certainty. “He doesn’t want to harm you, Korakos. He only came here to warn me.”

“Does…” Korakos fixed his tearful eyes on Revaramek. “Does the sand thing wanna hurt you?”

“I don’t know, Korakos, but…” Revaramek licked his nose. “He doesn’t want me to save your mother. And so he may try to stop me.”

The hatchling whimpered, his tail curling like a wounded snake. “But why? He should help save momma!”

“Yes, he damn well should.” Revaramek thumped his paw against a cushion, sending it skittering across the grass. “But he won’t. And I don’t know why. I only know that your mother, Mirelle and I have to be prepared for whatever he may do to try and stop us. And that’s where you come in, Korakos. You’re going to help us with that, too.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are.” He held his forelegs out, and Nyramyn passed Korakos to his father. Revaramek cradled him up against his chest place. “Firstly, I want you to know you won’t be alone, this time. While your mother and I are gone, the gryphons are going to come and stay with you. You like the gryphons, right?”

Korakos nodded and managed a little giggle. “Yeah. Uncle Chirble makes a good bed.”

Revaramek laughed softly with his son. “Yes, I’m certain he does. Chir’raal and Kurekka are going to stay at our house, while your mother and I are away, so they can take care of you.”

Nyramyn brushed her wing against Rev’s. “Our house, or theirs?”

Revaramek glanced over. “Ours, I thought, but we can talk it over with them, too.” He turned his attention back to Korakos. “I know this is hard on you, little one. And I know it’s only going to get harder. But I know you’re strong enough for this, and I know you’ll be strong for your mother and I, while we’re gone.”

“Uh huh.” Korakos nuzzled his father’s chest. “I’ll be strong, Father! I’ll go on patrol every day, just like you taught me! I’ll keep the house safe, and the gryphons safe, and scare away the stingbugs, and chase away the sand things.”

Revaramek sniffled, fighting to keep his voice level. “Yes, son, I know you will. But this time, you’re going to have an even more important job to do.”

Korakos rested a paw against Revaramek’s chest. “What is it?”

“You’re going to tell a story.” The dragon lifted his son higher, smiling at him. “Every single night.”

“A story?” Korakos twined his tail around his father’s limb. “To who? To the gryphons?”

“To the gryphons, to yourself, to whoever you want.” Revaramek’s smile widened till it left his muzzle parted. His ears perked, his frills high. “You can even imagine yourself telling it to your, and me. But it can’t just be any story, Korakos. It has to be a very special one.” He pulled the hatchling close, hugging him again. “Do you remember, when you still lived in the swamp, and your mother was away? You used to tell your stories, right?”

“Uh huh.” Korakos nodded.

“And what were those stories about?”

Korakos twisted his neck around to regard his mother. “About momma. About how she found you again, where the clean water was. And…we were a family. And…” Korakos sniffled, a few fresh tears running down his cheeks. “About how momma was finally happy, again.”

Nyramyn looked away, uttering a broken whine. She wiped her eyes, hiding behind her own wing.

“That’s right,” Revaramek said, embracing his mate with his own outstretched wing. He hugged her with it, hoping to bring her some measure of comfort while his attention was fixed upon their son. “You told a story, and in your heart, you believed that story would come true.” He shifted Korakos, tapping the hatchling’s chest. “And your spark made it real. Through your spark, your stories wove themselves into the world, and led you and your mother back to me. And now? Now, we need you to tell us this world a story. And when you tell it, believe it, with all your heart. And your spark will make it real. Do you understand?”

Korakos stared up at his father in silent thought. After a few breaths, he nodded, his voice solemn. “A story where you save momma?”

Revaramek smiled, ever so proud of his brilliant son. “A story where I save momma. That’ll be your job, Korakos. You tell it every night, just like in the swamp. A story where your father, your mother, and my best friend all go into the desert, to save your mother’s life. To find a cure for her sickness. And every night, when you tell the story? You tell it from your heart, the way you want it to happen. That we save your mother, and come home safe to you. And I promise you, Korakos, if you tell that story every night? And if you truly believe it?” Fire crept into Revaramek’s voice, unbidden. “We will come home safe, and your mother will be saved. The god of broken sands be damned.”

Korakos swished his tail. “Do you fight the sand thing in the story?”

Revaramek took a breath, realizing he’d said a little too much. “That’s up to you, Korakos. It’s your story, after all. But, if we do fight the sand thing? Just make sure we win, alright?”

Korakos only smiled up at him, love and pride filling his eyes. “You’ll always win in my stories, Father.”

Revaramek hugged him tightly, finally giving into the sobs he’d been battling all along. “Then…” He struggled for words, tears pouring down his muzzle. “Then I know we’ll be just fine.”