Return to Sender

The edge of reality, drifting between life and death, trying to make a decision. Everything had burned, the snow had melted, but the area was strangely humble. White lights, high above, cast their faint fingers across a planked, mahogany floor. A set of carved drawers, a nice wardrobe, and a bed were all items contained within the space.

In that bed lay a dragon. A dragon who wasn't sure whether to go on with life or not. A dragon that had lived because of a miracle, but also a dragon that wasn't exactly alive, either.

Comatose was a dreaded thing. It kept people asleep for weeks, sometimes months on end. It could halt the flow of life so suddenly. It would leave the dragon's only friend in tears. Even despite this, the dragon was stuck trying to decide on a specific choice.

On one side of the argument was life. The dragon had so many things to experience still. They were only fourteen, after all. The joy of freedom from a seemingly eternal nightmare, the happiness of a lover when times were dark. The world in all of its glory.

On the other lay death. The idea of climbing to the heavens, the Ancestors, so far above sounded so appealing. The dragon would forever be able to rest, knowing they would be in the care of the Ancestors. And perhaps, they could visit their parents. There were so many unthinkable, impossible things they would be capable of doing as a spirit.

But there was one factor in the equation that leaned them towards one side more than another. There was another dragon. One the dragon could call their best friend, always there to help them, even if it had only been weeks since they met. And the last thing they wanted was to leave them alone.

Sometimes, miracles do happen. And in Roland's case, they happened far too often. He wasn't complaining, though. Somebody was just smiling fortune down at him. He was happy with that...

Yet, even with the opportunity that had arisen for him, he felt rather sorrowful. He wasn't sure if he deserved it. After all, he'd ended all of those lives. All twenty-seven of them... Actually, that was false. He'd probably slain hundreds of cheetahs in the destruction he'd allowed to ensue. There were still all of those people locked up, as well. They were gone.

He knew he had to move past all that. But he felt so melancholic, so culpable, because of his actions. Why were the Ancestors so decided on shining good luck upon a dragon such as he? Why did they want such a petty swine to continue living?

Perhaps... Perhaps they were hoping he could rectify his errors. See his mistakes and turn them into good things. Things he could actually be proud of.

"You have much to be proud of, young one."

Roland didn't recognise the voice that came forth. It was distant, yet it felt so close. Booming, yet gentle and kind at the same time. It came from everywhere and nowhere. Completely indescribable.

Why was he so special?

"Against all odds, you've survived everything Drevon has thrown at you," the voice continued. "You've made friends, despite how you may feel about them now. And you've... done your absolute best to journey the path you've taken. Yet I must ask a favour of you."

If he was awake, he would have raised a brow... Actually, why was he aware of his current state of consciousness? That was particularly strange when he thought hard about it.

Roland couldn't find the ability to speak back to the voice, either. His mind wouldn't allow it. Or this being, whatever it was, wouldn't allow it. While the argument was disputable, the former seemed correct. They sounded too kind-hearted, and thus punishing him with the latter would've been strange. It wasn't like he could open his mouth to voice his cloudy thoughts, anyway, being asleep and all.

"There is an island. The journey there is... a long one; it's hundreds upon hundreds of kilometres north of Tall Plains. Some call it the Middle of Nowhere. But me? I call it... Dragon's Ruin."

That name wasn't at all familiar with the name used, but he still inwardly shivered. He had so many questions flowing through his mind. Unfortunately, he couldn't voice them.

"It concerns Drevon. Maybe even the fate of the Dragon Realms, although I... seriously doubt it. There's things I must tell you that I can't tell you here, anyway. This link... is too difficult to keep up. If I let you speak up, I think you'd sever the connection."

"Just... get to Dragon's Ruin. We need you, Roland. Get to Dragon's Ruin.

Those last words resounded within his mind. Roland didn't know what to do about them; he was so bewildered by the sudden request. What would he do about it? He could ignore it, yet the way the tone said it made it sound as if the fate of the world was resting upon his shoulders.

There was, however, one clear choice. He couldn't let down those who cared about him. If he'd done that, he would've broken that promise he'd made to himself so long ago.

She was obviously there for him. He needed to be there for her.

So, maybe it was about time he woke up.

Roland's first feeling was one of freezing. He felt like he'd been encased ice. Even despite the feeling of warm bedsheets and doonas wrapped snugly around him, he couldn't help feeling the impact of the wintery outdoors.

Next, came weakness, obviously because of all the blood he'd lost... Or was that just exhaustion? Actually, how long had he been unconscious? How long since being captured, and forced to oppose Ashlyn? How long since he'd slain those cheetahs, murdered Warren... All those people left locked up in the cells?

"...waking up?" a voice cut into his thoughts. It was clearly female, and definitely one he'd grown accustomed to hearing. He'd never forget Ashlyn's soft, fragile tone when she was despondent. This time, however, some form of hope seemed to spring back into her voice.

"You're not just hallucinating again, are you?" another said. While this tone was familiar, he couldn't quite recognise its owner. Again, it was feminine, but he couldn't place his claw on it.

"H-He's moving." Roland felt something land atop his chest. "He's actually moving!"

"Is that him, or are you just shaking him?"

"What? No! Look!"

Somehow, in spite of how physically inept he felt, he allowed a smile to grace his muzzle before finally opening his eyes. Oh, how it was amazing to gaze upon those bright eyes again. They were damp, crying tears of joy.

"Hey," he managed before falling into a fit of coughs. Ashlyn didn't bother moving, copping his coughing fit, but she didn't seem to mind, her eyes continuing to glisten with happiness. Despite his painful spluttering, he couldn't help himself from throwing a few laughs into the mixture.

"I can't believe it," that same voice he'd heard previously murmured. He peered to his left and found a green dragoness. It was easy enough to recognise her as Myrtle. "I thought you were dead for sure! You were so still! You were hardly breathing! By the gods, how are you even-"

"Okay, okay." He offered her a little smirk. She looked down, her own abashed smile playing on her lips. Gosh, her mood drifted between being melancholy and amazed so quickly. But what else would he expect from her after awakening from a coma? "I-I'm here now."

"I just..." Ashlyn sniffled. "Y-You were shot and you survived that, b-but I didn't expect you to live through... through..." A quiet sob escaped her mouth. She looked overjoyed to see him, yet at the same time concerned for him. He was confused as to why, yet like any good friend who'd just awoken from a coma would, he slowly pulled his sheets off and opened his wings to embrace her. Almost immediately, her head fell upon his chest.

"I'll, um... give you two some room," Myrtle muttered. He nodded slightly, watching her swiftly pace down the staircase of the room he was in. For a second, he wondered where he was, but it wasn't particularly difficult to find out. The domed window above his bedhead, starlight trickling through its transparent face, was enough indication as to where he was located. He did realise he'd just awoken from a deep state of unconscious, but how had he gotten there?

He had more pressing matters to deal with. Ashlyn was sobbing uncontrollably into his chest; he needed to lighten her mood somehow. He wrapped a wing around her.

"Hey, it's only me," he said. "I'm not that important. Don't worry about me so much."

"Only you?" She lifted her head and stared him in the eyes, the glint in her eyes quickly turning furious. "W-What the hell do you mean?"

"Well, um..." He gazed at the roof momentarily, trying to save their conversation. "I guess I'm kind of important. Um..."

"I dragged you all the way back here, and you think you're not important?" Quickly, Ashlyn lifted herself from him, rubbing at her eyes. "That's just great, Roland! If you really think you don't matter, then maybe... Ugh. Cant believe you..."

That was not the response he was expecting at all. He felt his chest tighten at her remark, his gut clenching. But he couldn't muster any rage. It really wasn't needed. Plus, she was right...

"I-I didn't mean it like that." He craned his head. "I... I wanted to make you feel better. That... I'm sorry."

She sighed, adopting a more saddened look. "Yeah. I... Sorry."

He didn't blame her for her for the words she'd spoken. Anybody in such a mood wouldn't really think about the things they'd say. That, and he'd just said something dumb as well. She looked tired too – there were rather heavy bags under eyes – so being in a crappy state of mind was understandable, anyway.

"I'm guessing Myrtle's going to go and tell the others you're up," Ashlyn said, changing the subject. "I'm hoping Alevor has a way to get you back on your feet... I don't want to have to rehabilitate you."

She ended with a smile to tell him she was joking. But he had no clue what she meant by rehabilitate. "What do you mean, Ash? Apart from feeling tired, I'm fine."

"Well, you did just wake up from a coma." Ashlyn shrugged. "That, and you're... kind of missing a leg there, Roly." She chuckled dryly. His brow only continued to lower.

"What?" He peered down at himself a moment later. His left foreleg was fine. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

His breath was caught in his throat when he saw nothing but a stub replacing the area his right leg was supposed to be in. He stared at it for the longest time, and before he knew it, he was hyperventilating.

"Roland?" Ashlyn's voice hardly reached him. "R-Roland?"

A stream of muddled, anxious thoughts coursed through his mind. What had happened to him? What was happening to him? He felt the world spinning again, not unlike Drevon's vision, and he felt nothing but vomit rise in his throat. He couldn't stop shivering. It was so cold.

His heart wanted to rip and tear out of his insides. Again, Ashlyn's voice came, much more panicked this time, but he couldn't snap out of it.

"Rol... what... Rolan-"

The world as murky as swamp water, he tried to grab onto something, anything, to steady himself. Really, it only reminded him of the limb he'd lost. He eventually did reach something, however. A sharp feeling grasped his sides; he only panicked more.

His trembling grew fiercer, as did his breathing. The feeling of death was quickly approaching, ready to take him back to the land of eternal slumber. Ready to end his short, miserable existence.

"Roland..."

He was dying again.

"Roland."

He was ready to die again.

"Roland!"

The shivering stopped. His breathing steadied, and his eyes were trained on Ashlyn. He looked at the stub on his right, anxiously licked his mouth, and then quickly turned back to her.

"W-What," she stammered nervously, "was... was that?"

Roland couldn't find the words to describe it. It was as if he'd been thrown into a turbine, spun until he felt heavily ill. He buried his face in his paws, deeply shaken.

"A panic attack, probably," a masculine tone suggested. Roland glanced up to find an Atlawa in black, greasy overalls – when he saw a llama in such strange clothing, he was immediately able to tell that Alevor was the owner of the voice. He watched the Atlawa turn his gaze to him. For whatever reason, he seemed troubled by something. The red dragon decided to ignore it for now, thinking it was just his brain playing up. "I have no idea how it feels to lose a limb, dragon, but I didn't expect that. You were at it for thirty minutes."

"Th-Thirty... What?" he exclaimed, astonished. It hadn't felt that long at all.

"Yeah... Thirty," Myrtle said, clearly worried. "I... I haven't seen anything like that in my life, and I definitely wouldn't have expected it from you. Are you feeling okay, Roland?"

Roland nodded, swallowing the saliva in his mouth. He realised it was bile a moment later, and almost gagged because of it. "Y-Yeah. What... What happened to me? When did I lose a leg?"

"You mean, you don't remember?" Ashlyn spoke up. He shook his head in response. "Drevon cut it off, Roland."

The red dragon looked around him as if to confirm her answer. Myrtle shrugged, obviously because she hadn't been there at the time, and Alevor visibly shrank, very unlike the usually proud Atlawa. He cocked his head and frowned. For the life of him, why couldn't he remember that happening? Everything prior was still up there – he went through the events backwards; rescuing Ashlyn, slaying so many innocents, the fight in the arena. Why couldn't he...

The fight in the arena struck a nerve within him. Other than doing battle with a blundertail, things had been uttered there. He remembered being told Nara was his enemy, and thinking of the others like that as well. And right there, standing in front of his bed, was Alevor. Quickly, his nerve-wracked expression turned to one of rage, and he forgot about his missing paw.

"What do you know about Drevon, Alevor?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Actually, what do you do for him? I heard some things back at that... shrine."

"Roland, stop-" Ashlyn said, only to be interrupted.

"No, he's right." Alevor's eyes raked the floorboards. "He deserves the truth too."

Ashlyn looked at Roland for a moment, only for her eyes to shift upward. He only passed her a sideways glance, but he still felt like she knew something he didn't. Why was she so eager to defend him? Perhaps it was just because he'd allowed them both entrance into his home, despite being the enemy.

"Drevon, as I'm sure you already know," he started, "needed plans for weapons, machinery, and everything in between that. They called me the next best thing to Waylin, and gave me a huge abundance of kofalt to work with in exchange for designing their equipment. It would've all been worth it if they didn't end up stabbing me in the back while you were gone."

"Why would they do that?" Roland found himself immediately asking, intrigued by the predicament Alevor was currently being faced by. "I thought they needed you?"

Alevor notably swallowed, his tone weakening slightly. "That they did. I worked with them for years, before the beginning of Drevon's uprising. But I'm guessing they just didn't need me anymore. In fact, those damned cheetahs ventured over here the other day and stole every last piece of kofalt from me. I... wasn't able to do anything about it. I have been able to salvage a few things, but not enough for any more projects. The smithy's done for."

Roland blinked rapidly, trying to take all the information in. It didn't seem like Alevor was on a side now – if his explanation was truthful, of course – but he had worked under Drevon before. He had not a clue of what the Atlawa was supposed to be now. If Drevon's cloaked forces had raided his house, then maybe it was best if he examined the area himself.

But how was he supposed to move? He was weak, stiff, and missing a limb. Maybe he would never move again; he'd be locked up in a room for the rest of his life, unable to do a single thing himself. Who would tend to him? Certainly not Ashlyn; he didn't want her to give up everything – her life, her future, her happiness – just to assist him.

"Well, that's the truth." Alevor scratched the back of his woolly neck. "If you don't believe me, you can go and check downstairs. Not sure how you'll get on your feet, though. I guess you'll have to find some kind of balance."

Maybe he wouldn't be cooped up alone, after all. If he was counting correctly, he still had a total of three paws. Surely he could stroll around on that. How difficult could it be?

"Not sure if you should get out of bed yet, though." Alevor put a hand to his hip. "You should take it easy for awhile. It'll do your body some good... I've got things to do."

With that, Alevor promptly left the room, hunched over, his hands buried within his pockets. The ruining of everything, his entire life's work, was evidently getting to him. He wanted to console the llama, help him clean up, but that wasn't possible right now. The undamaged items leftover had to have been the ones inside of his temporary room... How did Alevor get a bed up the staircase?

"We'll leave you alone, I think." Ashlyn grabbed his blankets and tucked him snuggly into bed once more; a smirk played at his lips. She giggled softly in return. "Get some rest, Roland. You need it."

"Yeah. Okay." He rolled onto his side, accidentally tearing the bedsheets on his spines slightly as he did so. "Oops... Who thought bedsheets were good for dragons, anyway?"

Surprisingly, Myrtle had an answer to that. "Well, us dragons are generally deep sleepers; we don't roll around much in bed. Also, in cities, we usually have our nails and blades and stuff filed until their blunt... So, we don't tend to put holes in the bed."

Ashlyn lifted a brow. "...How do you know all that?"

"I haven't been living in the jungle all my life," she responded, grinning slightly. "I've only been here for three years, and even then, I still had time to learn how to be safe in a city... You don't look like you've ever filed that tail blade, Ashlyn."

"Well, my family was... unconventional."

"You've told me."

Roland smiled at the pair. Over the course of his slumbering, they must've become somewhat friends after that incredibly awkward apology. In fact, they were sharing a giggle right then. He just wished everything could always be this happy.

If only that were actually plausible...

"Well, yeah." Ashlyn sighed contentedly. "I'll let you get some rest now. You probably need it."

"See you later, Roland!" Myrtle said with a grin before almost skipping her way down the stairwell. He heard her hum a soft tune; he winced a little at the noise.

"I'll explain everything later," Ashlyn stated. He nodded in response. "You look tired... and I'm kind tired too. So, I'm off to bed. See you soon, Roly."

Roland watched Ashlyn tread down the steps, and noticed how fatigued she really was. Her nails clicked lazily along the floorboards, her posture low and slumped. Her appearance made her look like she was living in the past; those times she hadn't been capable of slumbering, hurting herself because of an event she had no control over. That time she'd blamed herself for everything, even when Aurus was the one truly at fault... So, what was it now?

Had something so bad happened to her while he was stuck in oblivion that the cycle started again? He really hoped not. He wasn't sure if he could deal with another...

Roland stopped himself there. It couldn't be that. Surely, it wouldn't! Yeah, she'd just... been a little restless lately. That had to be it.

He found his paw moving towards his mouth of it's own accord, fear rising within him. While he wasn't one for nibbling at his claws, he couldn't stop it from occurring... It couldn't be that at all. He just needed to breathe. Breathe and try to find something else to think about.

He wondered what was on for dinner that night.

"Seriously, Roland," he muttered to himself, relaxing on his bed, "she's fine. Don't worry about her."

He was just in great need of sleep, like Ashlyn had told him. He was simply panicky after the revelation of his paw being so brutally disarticulated, and he definitely wasn't one for panic attacks. Working himself up over what was probably one sleepless night wasn't going to benefit him whatsoever. So, instead of agonising further over her most likely fine welfare, he clenched a fist, breathing a sigh, and relaxed in his bed...

He really wanted a meal.

Unfortunately, it was too late for that, and it was certainly for the better if he got his mind out of the gutter and thought of more sensible things... He wondered about his conversation with that voice, so intriguing. Where was this Middle of Nowhere, and who was he speaking to?

The more questions he brought up, the worse a newfound headache became. He decided trying to doze off again was the finest alternative to thinking, if only to stop the pains jolting through his cranium.

Roland rested his cheek on the side of his pillow, making sure to curl up in the toasty warmth of his fluffy blankets. Hopefully the land of dreams would help ease his mind...

A plane of absolute darkness. There was nothing. Nothing, except one lowly dragon.

These dreams were special. It felt so weird to receive them all. He was aware he was having them, unlike a normal person, and that unnerved him.

Again, that question swirled around the insides of his skull, a question he couldn't possibly the answer to.

Why was he so special?

"Why do you think you're special, Roland?" a voice asked. The tone was familiar. He recognised it from his prior dreams, and from Alevor's smithy. The voice of a yellowy dragoness. The voice of Nara, and the voice of a being who had betrayed his trust, lied to his face to appease another enemy.

Nara materialised in front of him, particles spinning violently into an image of her. He wanted desperately to strike out at her, but the question asked had put a stop to any notion pertaining to her status as an enemy.

"I don't know," he muttered. "I really don't... I just want to go home."

All of a sudden, Roland was capable of speech within his unconsciousness again. He was bewildered, and he definitely needed answers.

Why was everything so stupidly confusing?

"That isn't really an option, Roland." Nara stepped forward; he found himself taking a singular step back. "You've been asked by him. I know not of his name, but of who he is. Somebody might've mentioned him back at that shrine. I wasn't there, so I have no idea."

He wanted to answer, but a wave of emotions quickly replaced any dialogue he may of had. Anger, betrayal, fear... "Why did you lie to me, Nara?"

At this, her gaze met the shadows as black as night below her. "That was my fault. I led you into a trap without knowing about it. I never should've listened to that voice in my head..."

"But you knew about Drevon, didn't you?" he inquired, his tone changing to one of intrigue, yet he was still infuriated. Nara mouthed a few words, but looked back up at him a moment later.

"I only wrote what that voice had told me." She took one more step towards him. This time, he found himself too immersed in her answers to shift elsewhere. "It was overpowering... Strong magic. Better illusions than mine. I'll admit mine aren't difficult to beat, though."

A smile cracked her neutral expression, but she otherwise held that same air around her; mysterious.

"They lied to me, and I do realise who it was now. Drevon was contacting me. They told me to contact you specifically in the hopes of bringing you here for what they said was important to whether I lived or died. My abilities are rare, apparently. But really, it just ended up being a coincidence you flew over here... Well, almost."

"I thought you sent out a warning..." Roland frowned, bemused. "That's what you told me."

"They told me to tell you that as to not frighten you when you found out you were a little more important than you thought. Turns out you were completely expendable, and the only dragon Drevon wanted was Ashlyn because of a certain ring she had. Both of you weren't special..."

Roland's anger was quickly being replaced by sheer confusion. So, in other words, Nara had lied to him, but she was being manipulated as well?

"So, after sending you on your way, Drevon thanked me for the assistance, and I never heard from them again... Until his henchman came along to raid the blacksmith. Animals..."

"If they really wanted that ring," another question came forth, "why didn't they take it when we were back in Warfang? Why did they try to kill us?"

Nara shrugged. "Drevon's plans just seem so... so flawed. It's like they don't know what they're doing. One moment they want to burn down a city with you inside it, but have you saved by a deer, anyway. The next they want to take a ring from you two. I don't know if they even know what they're doing. They might just be a psychopath."

He itched at the bottom of his jaw, trying to figure out what this all meant. Nara wasn't really an enemy, having been lied to, but the others... Were they on Drevon's side?

"I don't know, Roland." She glanced to her left, staring into the endless abyss surrounding them; he'd thus figured out she could read his thoughts inside this dream. She could also speak, just another benefit to her powers. "I haven't had much explained to me. I only showed up when Drevon told me to."

"But," she continued, lowering her tone, "this is all a coincidence. You've taken the correct (or, well, the wrong) steps to make it here. My dreams didn't do much, for I couldn't get the magic across properly. Yet you still came here. I imagine the others did their job correctly, but I'm pretty sure I was supposed to play the key role in all of this."

The entire thing was a coincidence. From the very beginning, he'd tried to thieve the orb because of Seth. He'd been banished so hastily by that group of robed figures (he'd only just realised he had been sent packing because of them), ventured to Warfang with Ashlyn, gazed upon the city blazing... All of Drevon's plans had been thought of in a pinch, yet it had all worked out for them.

The scenario truly was unbelievable.

"I'll let you rest now," Nara stated. He peered towards her once more. "I think I've said all I needed to... Hopefully you'll be back on your feet in a few days."

No other thoughts escaped his parted maw, no other questions, no nothing. He needed time to think about this.

This run of bad luck really was starting to get on his nerves. If he'd just stayed in Avalar...

Well, a task lay ahead of him, anyhow. He felt compelled to find this Middle of Nowhere. Dragon's Ruin. The name just stuck out.

So, as dumb as the idea seemed now, he didn't want the world being hurt more so by Drevon. If this was all a scheme to lure him somewhere again, then he'd bring down Drevon, anyway. Even if the odds seemed absolutely impossible – they were definitely stacked up against him – his life meant hardly anything. He was a wreck; he was missing a limb, for crying out loud. What else did he have to lose, other than Ashlyn, who he was sure would go with him to confront whoever this voice was?

He kind of wanted to go for himself, anyway. He was just too curious.

So, he'd made up his mind. When he could finally get back on his feet, it would be time to head out once more.

Boy, the fun he was going to have...