The house still stood there at the end of the road, tall and proud as ever. In fact, the whole quiet neighborhood was still standing, untouched by fire or bombs. The girl felt, as she stepped numbly down the untainted streets, that this had all been some awful dream.

But the bundle in her arms reminded her. Tyren was shivering, so she pulled him to her chest until his teal scales were no longer cold to the touch.

People stood in their doors, watching as they tramped wearily down the street. The girl kept her head down, but she couldn't help but notice the candles that flickered in the window. Markers for the dead. Only a few homes remained dark. Reaching their house, the former quintet, now six, went inside.

Her legs were aching terribly–she hadn't sat down once that day–so she collapsed on the couch with Tyren sitting still on her lap. Ignitus set about lighting some candles as everyone did the same, completely exhausted.

But the flickering lights only made the room look eerie, like it was shifting. The girl would have liked the dark better. She would have liked it, in fact, if she could close her eyes, sink into the darkness, and never wake up. Her gaze fell down to the little boy as she idly stroked the smaller scales on his face. His eyes were closed, his fast, panicked breaths finally slowing. At least he was at peace.

Terrador spoke, and the silence around them shattered like glass. "What you did was very brave, young one."

The girl blinked at being addressed, and looked up slowly. "Brave? Really?" She tilted her head, a few strands of hair falling out of the hood. Her voice was completely emotionless. "What makes you think that?"

The earth dragon shifted; her dryness and flat voice were... off-putting. But he maintained resolutely, "You're as much a hero as any of us were today."

Something appeared in her face, some emotion like rage and anguish all at once. "You think I'm a hero?" She laughed, though she lowered her voice when Tyren shuddered in his sleep. "I did all of that because I'm a coward. I was afraid to fight. And I couldn't..." She hunched over, the shadows on her face dancing in the candlelight. "I didn't do enough."

But that brief emotion soon seeped out of her expression as she stared into the light of a candleflame. "I got too comfortable," she said quietly. "I thought it could be a new beginning for me, like this was some magical place where there was no death or pain. At least, it wouldn't ever get to me."

Her gaze into the little fire sitting on the table before her hardened. Damn that flame for jumping about so cheerily. "But this place is the exact same as Earth. Anyone you love can be taken from you at any moment." Finally, she tore her gaze away from the fire. "I can't stay in this world. I belong there. Anyway..." She smiled bitterly. "What's the difference?"

The Guardians exchanged glances, but they said nothing. She was grieving. If she needed to say these things, or to act aloof, then they wouldn't get in the way.

But, truth was, they didn't know what to say anyhow. They'd seen a lot of her personality. Her default, dreamy self, her joy as she sailed up into the clouds, or overreacted and fell to the depths of despair, and the flashes of rage. Her emotions were strong, her expressiveness more so.

But this was new. This wasn't depression, like after the screw-up at the trainyard. This wasn't anger or rage at the world. This was... nothing.

She went back to looking down at Tyren and gently stroking his scales. But the thought hit her, the idea of Tyren being ripped away and sent to the orphanage. Of the once bright boy in that horrible place, alone.

A twinge of dread resounded through her unfeeling body. No. Anything, anything but that. She'd run away if she had to. Find her way to the White Isle herself and bring Tyren home with her.

But she had to ask. "What's going to happen to Tyren?"

"Let's not worry about that right now," Ignitus answered quickly. No use getting her riled up now. "He'll stay here tonight. After that, we'll see what happens."

It sounded like he might be able to stay. That was the best she could hope for. So, sighing, she bundled up the child in her arms and stood. "I'm taking a bath and going to bed." The girl turned her back and headed up the stairs without another word.

No one offered a goodnight, because it wasn't.

Legs heavy, she headed to the end of the hall. Perhaps it was adrenaline that had made Tyren so easy to carry, for now he felt like an impossible weight.

She headed to the room across from hers. No one slept there, and it was the only other bedroom with a window... Tyren would like that, she thought. The morning sun might help him feel a little better, rather than waking up in a strange bed in the dark.

So, gently, she lay him down in the bed far too big for him and pulled the covers over his cold shoulders. He shivered in his sleep then went still, turning his face into the pillow. She stood over him a moment, her impassive gaze softening, then leaned down and pressed her lips to his cool forehead.

As she entered the bathroom, she could still hear the Guardians talking down there. Normally she would peer over the edge and eavesdrop, but tonight she couldn't care less what they were discussing.

In the dark room, she managed to light a few candles as she ran the bath. The mirrors were black but for those few lights, and she was just a silhouette in them. Picking up a candle, the girl walked over to one the mirror-walls to stare at her reflection.

She could hardly recognize herself; she looked like a ghost. Her eyes were black and dead, her body pale and shaking. Her dark brown hair was streaked with ash and her face smudged with dirt. And her cloak, though black, was visibly blood-stained and bleached were the soot had stained it grey. She looked like she'd just stepped out of a battle in a coal mine.

The girl pressed her hand, the only clean part of her, to the mirror. She'd always looked like a child; her baby fat along with her bright, sparkling eyes made her appear more akin to a puppy than a teenager. But now, even with her young face, that was gone. She could have been a thousand years old.

But what really scared her was that look on her face... It reminded her of before. Before the Dragon Realms. She'd avoided mirrors, because she couldn't stand to meet that hollow gaze. Now it was back, consuming her.

She stepped out of the bathroom a half hour later feeling clean but not much better. A bit of ash and blood still under her fingernails reminded her that she couldn't just scrub the past away. Still, her world felt a little less hopeless.

The girl turned to head to bed, but she stopped in the hallway, the moonlight from the far window illuminating her. The dirty robes were in her arms, and she'd planned to throw them into the corner until she could muster the will to wash them or burn them.

But she'd forgotten. The piece of paper that she'd pocketed, the one she'd ripped from Auren's cold fingers.

Her hands were shaking as she walked closer to the light and pulled the soft paper out of the pocket. Gently, careful not to rip the delicate parchment, she opened it.

Immediately, it was like a spear had pierced her heart. Her hands shook so hard that the paper nearly tore in two as she stared down at the drawing. This was what Strider had handed him that night. Something even that girl had seen, something there was no words for. How could she have been so blind?

It was her and Auren, sitting close together, just talking. Not like the group picture, where they'd all been laughing, in tears with joy. This was something simpler, more subtle, more real. She'd always shied away from physical contact... So how could she look so comfortable sitting that close to someone? When had she ever looked as happy, or smiled that widely before?

The girl traced Auren's sketched face, leaving her fingers stained black. She remembered now, how eternally bright and optimistic he'd always looked, at least before these last few weeks. There was a time, not too long ago, when his pensive side had all but faded. Had she done that to him? Had she... had she helped him? Because she knew, more than anything she'd felt before, that he had certainly helped her.

Helped her be happy, helped her smile... Then, right when she had begun to heal permanently, tore her heart out of her chest.

The paper shook as a teardrop splattered onto it, sending a piece of the chalky background running. The girl scrambled to quickly wipe her eyes so she wouldn't ruin the drawing anymore. Walking into her room, she opened the wicker chest and set the sketch in there, where it would be safe. With her dearest possession store away, her weary gaze flicked to the unmade bed.

If she closed her eyes, she knew she would see it. The distant explosions, the fires licking at the skies. The bloody, moaning people. The child who'd been half burned alive, his face black and ruined, who slipped away in her arms before they could even make it back to the councilhouse.

And then, Auren. The face as still as a glassy pool of water, frozen in time. An unmoving sketch that never smiled again.

She had to go... somewhere. Anywhere else. But she couldn't. She couldn't face the Guardians again tonight. She stepped into her room, putting her dayclothes back on, and turned to the window.

This time, the girl was careful sliding down onto the lower roof. There was no giveaway thump–she knew she wasn't in any state to be wandering around Warfang in the dark, and the Guardians would drag her back if they heard her, but... There was something she needed to do.

She knew that she couldn't bear to pass by that place on the wall, at least not yet, so she dropped into the backyard instead of jumping to the willow tree. The moons were shining so prettily as she walked in the shadow of the wall that, just for a moment, she almost forgot. Almost.

Soon enough, the great tower loomed ominously before her, its shadow darker than pitch casting her into an inky black void. She had never stood at its base before. Usually, she'd climb in through a window, just to get a laugh out of Addison.

Now, for once, she went quietly through the humble brown door. The ground floor was dark and dusty, filled with racks of old weapons and dull, rusted armour. She had liked the little old library with greying, faded books, the crates next to the window that made comfortable sitting places. But she'd never been down here before, and she'd be quite happy to never return again.

Up a thousand stairs she climbed, her legs growing heavier at every step. What would she find at the top of this tower? If she found some confused new recruit, what could she say?

And what if she found nothing? What if that comfortable little rooftop they'd made their own was still and dark, and all their things had been pushed into the corner? Without a candle to stand on a squat, mismatched table, without the two little chairs and the desk between them, without the homely smell of tea and old books' pages...

Would she have to pick through the lines of corpses until she found his among them?

Her heart was pounding as she mounted the final steps. The trapdoor was open. Two black eyes poked up through the hole; she saw it there, the tiny light flickering in the gentle wind. Her eyes snapped over, and there he was, standing and staring out at the mountains with an imperceptible expression on his face.

The last stair creaked and his ear flicked. Addison didn't turn towards her. "The lights are gone," he pointed out, gazing at those dark mountains. "Most all the miners have come home, one way or another. There are bodies to be identified, families to mourn with. And it's just not safe out there anymore."

The girl stopped and stood still as she finished stepping out, frozen in place by his words, and he continued, "I was on a scouting mission today. They redirected us to bring the miners back. While we were escorting them, we came across the force that was retreating from Warfang..."

His head turned down, his long nose twitching as the mole closed his eyes. "I can rest easy now knowing that every creature who perpetrated this horror today is dead. But I failed. Instead of escorting them safely home, we had to carry their bodies back with us."

Finally, Addison inclined his head toward her. His dark eyes were empty as they fell on her. "Why do you think this world is so full of death, miss? Do you believe there's any reconciliation for it? Or is this life just meaningless bloodshed?"

She couldn't open her mouth. Her tongue was made of lead. "Anyway," the mole said, turning back to lean on the battlements, "That's what I'm beginning to believe."

The girl stood stricken for a moment. How could this bright soul be fading? But she found her words, and she spoke with what little strength she had left to muster. "You're alive," she choked. "Even... even though everyone else is gone, you're still here." He looked at her with clarity and opened his mouth, but she tumbled out before he could speak, "I could have lost everyone, but I have you... And I have Tyren.

"So..." She hadn't cried today, not once, but suddenly the child couldn't stop her eyes welling up with tears. "So, that's something, right?"

She didn't want his pity, but she couldn't help it. If she'd lost him too... What could she have done? So, as the mole turned to her, she ran to him and enveloped him in a hug. He was half her height and she had to crouch down, but it didn't matter. His small paws patted her back as he reassured her; he was still here, he'd always be here.

Addison was alive. He wasn't Auren, no, and he couldn't possibly replace what she had lost. But it was something, so she held on tight.

~~...~~

Her mind steered her away, begging her to drop back down to the grass, to go home. It's cold, she thought as she tramped through the wind. It's late. But her feet brought her somewhere else.

She walked, eyes on the ground, until she saw it. The tell-tale scuffles and scratches in the stone. Her gaze raised and she saw her neighborhood not too far away. She'd come back to this place, this place that would never see the light of a friendly lantern or hear a laugh again.

The girl sat down in her spot and looked around, her eyes still sparkling with tears. When she blinked, she could see them. There was Serena sitting next to her with a gentle, patient smile on her face. Strider, staring with those silver eyes that could pierce right through her. Cedric, lazily playing the lute, the sound of his music still echoing in the air.

And Auren, Auren still smiling. He laughed, the sound barely reaching her, before the wind and snow carried him and his laughter away.

She reached out for them. The warmth of the lantern was there, if she could just hold her hand out and touch it. But she fell forward, elbows hitting the stone, and was jolted back into the dark reality. It was gone. They were all gone.

Knowing it was dangerous but not caring, the girl pushed her hood down to feel the wild wind, the snowflakes biting at her neck. Her hair, having grown a few inches, whipped about like a tornado.

When a dragon dies, he does not truly leave this world. He lives on, binding himself with nature, offering hope for the future...

There was no hope to be had, but did that mean he was watching? Was this howling wind him? Was he the snow that stung her bare skin, the winter that enveloped the world?

"You dummy..." she whispered, almost laughing through her frozen tears. "I would have stayed." Her hoarse voice was ripped from her throat by the twisting, wailing breeze. It ebbed a moment, as if it might be listening, so she raised her head and screamed into the wind, "I would have stayed, for you!"

But she received no answer. Only the blizzard gale that cried with all its force, and kept howling and screeching mournfully even long after the girl had gone home and shut the window. It held that harsh truth and carried it away until it was gone, forgotten.

~~...~~

When she woke up in her bed, the girl was feeling rather comfortable and warm. She sat up with a yawn, but quickly froze as it all came back to her. That brief moment of bliss, of sleepy unknowing, she wanted it back. But it was long out of her grasp.

Her gaze turned to the window. Well, it was nice and bright outside at least. Sighing, she stood and put on her disguise. She'd better check on Tyren.

She found him in the room across from her, sitting on the bed and staring out the window. He looked like a cat sitting in the patch of sunlight filtering through the glass. The boy turned to look at her mutely, and she had to stop. The utter hollowness in his eyes was gone, but this was not the motor-mouth child she knew.

"Morning," the teenager offered hesitantly. What could she say to the child whose entire family was dead? Made a brotherless orphan in one fell swoop... She was all he had left. "We'd... better get some food in us."

The hatchling promptly jumped down off the bed. The girl didn't realize until then how small he was. Like a yearling puppy, barely even reaching to her hips. Together, the two of them walked downstairs to meet the Guardians at breakfast.

It was odd, seeing an extra plate set. She almost felt like she should look around, say, "Who is coming to visit?" But it was just for little Tyren. All of the Guardians were staring as they descended the stairs, and it made the girl's skin crawl.

"Good morning," Ignitus greeted warily, watching them as they sat. They were a somber pair to be sure, but even the little one wasn't crying. They were in a better mood than he'd expected."How are you both feeling?"

"I'm fine," the girl muttered, digging into her food so she'd have an excuse to not talk. Colourful fruit that didn't at all fit her mood, but she couldn't taste it anyway.

Tyren just stared. His voice was stuck. But, after a moment, he sighed and followed the girl's example. "Fine," he mumbled.

Nobody spoke of the orphanage or of what would be done with Tyren, which made the duo feel equal parts relief and dread. Breakfast was quite the somber affair. It was often brightened by the girl's lively chatter, but now only the Guardians quietly discussed their duties today. But soon, even that descended into silence, only broken by the clinking of plates and glasses.

The girl wondered if she should have been helping, on a cleaning or search crew or something, but no one said anything. And she didn't want to leave Tyren alone in this house anyway.

So, the day went on... somewhat normally. Mostly, it was just quiet. Ignitus stayed behind to write letters or some such–the only thing this attack generated more of than bodies was paperwork–and the other Guardians were out all day helping the citizens restore the city. There were still fires to be put out, pieces of rubble to be moved, people and bodies to rescue from the wreckage.

Mostly, the girl sat on the soft cloth couch and read aloud to Tyren, who'd curled up on her lap and refused to move. She'd managed to dig up an old storybook from the ancient library. By midday, the little boy was passed out, dreaming of fairytales instead of nightmares. At least she could do that much for him.

The girl was close to falling asleep herself when Ignitus entered from the library. He always looked tired, and the last day he'd looked about a thousand years old. But now, there was a little light in his eyes. "Is he asleep?"

She nodded in response, so the dragon continued, "Good. Don't wake him. Let's give him a chance to get settled in before we tell him."

At this, a bit of hope sprung into the child's eyes, relief spreading through her tense body. "You'll let him stay?"

Ignitus nodded. "The others agreed, but left the decision up to me."

She stared at him, annoyance creeping into her voice. "If you're fine with taking care of him, why did it take so long to figure out the answer?" She'd been anxious and pensive all day, worrying about Tyren's fate and planning an escape if necessary, and he hadn't even said anything?

"If you're going to go through with your plan of leaving this world..." The red dragon gazed at her, an unspoken question in his words, and her expression fell. "That may only leave him in a worse state. But, I realized that separating you now would do more harm than good, whatever choice you make later on."

Maybe more for me than for Tyren, the girl thought wearily. If she had to watch Tyren be ripped away from her, put into that horrible orphanage... She'd go entirely insane.

The child closed her eyes and let out a sigh, finally allowing herself to relax. That wouldn't happen now. "Thank you. I'm just glad he'll be safe." She could look to the future, whatever was left of it.

The girl hadn't answered his question, and he stood waiting as if she might. But after a moment, the Guardian turned. "Tyren will be alright, wherever you go," he said over his shoulder, and then he entered the library and was gone.

She stared down at the child and closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping. Well, she could only hope that was true. But she wouldn't have to worry about that, not yet, so for a moment... she let herself rest.

~~...~~

He awoke in the night and sat up with a gasp of cold air, his little chest heaving. His paw shot out on instinct, searching, but there was no warm body curled around him, or his brother's soothing, deeper voice surrounding him and easing him back to sleep.

Tyren hadn't ever slept alone very often. After they moved to Warfang, when he was too little to remember, they'd had him in that tower that was scary and dark at night. But he had vague wisps of memories from before, of laying in a warm bed between his parents.

He still recalled vividly that first night. He'd only sat hiding under the covers for ten minutes before bolting down the twisting stairs, ending up under the sheets of a disgruntled Auren's pillow. "I need my beauty sleep, kiddo," he'd groaned. But he allowed it, and Tyren slept soundly that night, and every night thereon.

The hatchling cowered under the sheets a moment, watching the shadows in the corner for even a hint of movement. He could hear the others' snores and breathing, and that brought a bit of comfort, but–did that shadow just move?! Jumping off the bed, he bolted over the block of moonlight and into the opposite room, claws scraping on the sleek wooden boards.

But Tyren stopped in the doorway, hesitant as he stared at her sleeping form. He'd never had to ask before.

The boy padded over to the edge of the bed, resting his head on the sheets and staring at her weird face. Since he was a permanent resident now (and she didn't want to wear a bandanna forever), the girl had told him the truth. Young children are luckily very accepting creatures, so it only took Tyren a bit to get used to it. Still, he couldn't stop staring at her weird face, the odd hair that split into strands, unlike fur, the impossibly smooth skin.

Leaning forward, the boy nudged her arm with his snout, harder when she didn't respond. One sleepy black eye opened, then two. "Tyren?"

"Can I sleep with you?" His lavender eyes were pleading.

Yawning, the girl nodded and lifted the covers. Tyren didn't need to be asked twice; he zipped under and snuggled in, shutting his eyes immediately. The girl looked down at him a moment, then put an arm overtop the covers and pulled him close.

Sure, dragons didn't make the best sleeping buddies, with all their horns and wings and other pieces sticking out. But Tyren needed it. So she closed her eyes too, doing her best to get comfortable. She knew he was asleep when his fast breaths evened. The girl listened to his breathing for a while as she waited for sleep to call her back.

As long as I'm here, she thought as she began to fade away, I will keep you safe. I promise.

The girl didn't know what would happen tomorrow. She didn't know what would happen weeks or months or years from now, when she had to go home. But laying there with Tyren in her arms, she knew that everything would be alright.