The days melted away, one after the other. There in an instant... The next, gone.
If Tyren doesn't survive... the girl would think. She couldn't finish the sentence. But she wouldn't leave the child's side, even taking what little food she could choke down in his room. His little blue paw never left her hands.
And the boy slept. He was covered with gauze, bruises, and casts. Three legs broken, fractured ribs, worse. But, all things considered, he'd come out fortunate.
After a few weeks of anxious hovering, Tyren finally began to wake up, though he remained bound to his bed. Now conscious, he returned to his former self. It was like a spell had been cast on him. His anger was forgotten. And though he was too tired to smile, his good humour was unfailing.
The girl was happy to stay at his side, taking his food to him, reading to him, and whatever else he needed. Her apathy was broken now as well. Those first few weeks, sitting in the dark light of his room staring at his broken form, not knowing if he'd survive... It was awful.
But now, her small smile was genuine. Tyren was alive, and that was all that mattered. Though something remained, hovering in the back of her mind. The thought, worming its way in: what if he did this again? When she left... How would he react?
I shouldn't even be thinking of leaving, she thought one rather warm winter day, curled up on the floor next to Tyren's bed. The book she'd been reading aloud sat idly on her lap. After the reason he did that, I'm still...
But she had to say it. "Tyren?"
The child had been resting, and one light purple eye popped open. "Mm?" He yawned, flashing sharp teeth, and stretched as much as his cast-weighted legs would let him.
The words caught in her throat, and she had to take a breath. Closing her eyes, the girl continued, "You understand why I still have to leave, right?"
Both eyes were on her now. But he said hesitantly, "Your sister."
She nodded. "My sister is in the place I came from. So, that's why. I want to stay, but she doesn't have anybody." The girl looked at him, a bit of fear seeping into her eyes. She was at the edge of the cliff again, watching him slip through her fingers. "But... Tyren, if you need me to stay around a little longer, even once I figure out how to get home..."
"You need to." His voice was resolute, and the eyes closed again. But he reached out a small paw. "I'll be okay. Promise."
The girl stared a moment, eyes welling up with tears, then took the paw and clasped it in her hand. "I'm sorry." She managed to hold back her tears, but her voice was choking. "If it wasn't for that, I would stay here forever!"
Outside the door, just a few feet away, Ignitus stood listening with his eyes narrowed in thought. He had come to check on them, but hearing their conversation, couldn't help but stop to listen.
That was one thing that still perplexed him, one thing that he just couldn't figure out about this girl. She didn't talk about herself very often, but from what little she had said, he'd learned two things: one, that she was deeply loyal to her sister, and two, the world she came from was not exactly kind.
She'd always insist that she had to go home because she "belonged" there, because she couldn't ever feel right here, but he knew that she loved this world. She was happy. So why? Why did she torment herself in making a choice contrary to what seemed obvious? Even when she was leaving behind someone who needed her just as much as her sister did, still she remained resolute.
When he came back a few hours later, evening had fallen on the world, draping its golden veil over Warfang. Dust-dancing light sparkled in through the window, illuminating the two children who were passed out cold.
Afternoon on this side of the house was often dark, but a few orange rays still pierced the glass today, giving Tyren's room an angelic glow. The boy lay under the covers, and his friend still sat on the floor, leaning one arm on the bed for support.
As Ignitus checked Tyren's temperature from the other side of the bed, his gaze fell on the girl, who lay there with a feverish pallor on her face. A thought struck him then. Maybe... he could help her.
She was making herself sick with worry. Her once flushed face was now pale, her body weak, the light in her eyes dulled as if from an illness. And, more than that, she was tortured by her memories, by her choice. If it kept up, she's surely fall sicker than Tyren, and he could help her.
She was pulling away from them all, but she couldn't work through her pain on her own, that much was for sure. The girl convinced herself that this was her burden to bear, and bear it alone she would, but she had friends. He couldn't and wouldn't make her even if he did this, but maybe it could convince her to face her demons instead of letting them fester.
But the thought gave him pause. He'd never abused his gift, not once, though...
He had the power to erase her memories.
That was not his intentions, and she wouldn't gain anything from that. Her pain could be eased, but having forgotten everything, she'd be weaker than when she began. And that would be wrong, to tamper with her memories without asking.
There was something else he could do. A way to make her confront the nightmares that were clinging to her, without destroying her recollections or manipulating her perception. Still, he hesitated. He didn't want to interfere... But at the same time, he couldn't just watch as she suffered alone, refusing help.
If this was the only way to get to her... Then he had to at least try.
The dragon crossed to the other side of the room, stepping softly, then stopped next to her. The girl's head was turned to the side and her breaths were frenetic, though she was deep in sleep. She looked anything but peaceful, more like she was afflicted with ghosts and night terrors.
Seeing this only solidified his decision. Reaching a paw out, he placed it on her forehead and closed his eyes.
The Pool of Visions had acted like a tool to enhance his gift of sight. Without it, his power was weaker. He still caught stray thoughts and dreams, but physical contact was the only way to see them clearly. Even brushing shoulders would grant a burst of clarity.
So, in a moment, he was plunged into her mind: a vast, swirling black ocean untouched by gleeful sunlight. Sinking beneath the surface into the unknown.
He fell until he hit bottom, far from the surface and into the deep. As usual, the wall was there, as formidable as ever. But weaker than it had once been. She'd grown more trusting, less wary. Still, her nature hadn't changed, and she'd be quicker to distrust someone than to give in.
Something swirled around him, curious, and it sent something out. A query. Who are you? He answered, and the wall, once solid concrete, hesitated and then toppled down. In the dust thrown up by the destruction, her world was changing. Into an even deeper black void he stepped, unafraid.
There was a silhouette in the distance, and the dragon stepped closer until he reached her. She was sitting in the middle of this emptiness, alone, gazing off into the void. And there was something about her that was a little different, like she was flickering in an out of reality.
She didn't quite look like herself. That was it, he realized. At one moment she looked like a child, and the next, a few years too old. Her perception of herself was unsure, and it didn't match the way she looked. She'd been through as much as an adult, and yet she clung to her youth, to the childhood that had never a chance to play out.
The girl looked up and nodded at his approach, familiarity in her eyes. But she said nothing as her gaze turned back to the emptiness. She sat on a tall stump, which was fitting enough. Her mind was always floating outdoors, to the forest. Even here in the stillness, there was a far-away sound like the wind rustling tree leaves.
Ignitus examined her a moment then sat, his tail curled around him. Some people reacted with anger or fear at seeing him here, but she seemed docile enough. Still, he couldn't make a beeline for her memories. He had no sense of direction, and maybe just talking would be enough. "I can't understand," he said carefully. The girl tilted her head in interest. "Why do you fight so hard to go home?"
She hesitated a moment, then lifted her arm. Before her a picture of a little girl appeared, a sweet smile on her sincere face. Her hair, sparkling golden, sparkled and buffeted in the non-existent wind... But she was holographic, flickering. A memory.
In a moment, the child faded and turned to light and dust, scattering into a million particles. The girl reached out, distressed, but her sister was gone.
Ignitus sighed. He'd garnered that much. "But what happened to you?" he insisted. "There's more to this than that. If it was just that one person, even your sister, without context... Would you still make that choice?"
The girl hesitated a moment, then looked away. If her sister was somewhere safe... If she'd come from a happy world, a peaceful home, then maybe...
The Guardian turned, going off in search of her memories. Panicked, the girl hopped off her stump and chased after him, still silent and unable to shout. She stepped in front of him and motioned for him to stop.
He looked down at her. "I want to help," he said. "You have to face your memories, or you're only going to suffer more." The dragon set off again.
Frustrated, the girl raised her arm, and a wall came up sharply around them. She crossed her arms and glared as Ignitus glanced back in exasperation.
"I'm not going to force you to tell me," he said patiently. "If you wish, then I'll go. I only want to help. That's all."
The girl stopped a moment, then slowly lowered her arm. The walls came down with it, and the Guardian continued his walk, the child staring after him. But after a moment she took off running, dashing in front of him again. He stopped, and she pointed. All around them, the void was changing, shifting, until suddenly they were just bystanders in a train of memories.
Sunlight streamed in, and in the distance, a pretty sparkling ocean framed the little grey beach. Two girls' laughter echoed all around them, and one's curly golden hair was flouncing as she looked back with a smile. And there were more, more beaches, more smiles, more of the ocean always shining bright.
Then there were memories that were more familiar to Ignitus. Sometimes he saw himself, or the other Guardians. Back in the Temple, walking along in the forest, or there in Warfang. Those little exchanges she valued so much, as simple as a small conversation or a smile from the normally serious four.
And the things he hadn't seen. The moonlit nights, the cacophony of laughter, the five familiar faces. He could feel her joy everywhere; their happiness was palpable, intoxicating, buzzing in the air around them. A lantern-lit meeting on the wall, a romp through the snowy forest...
But for a moment, the memories faded. For just a split second, they were plunged into darkness, fear, and pain. The dirty, dark house haunted her still, and those bloody footprints in the snow left a garish red mark in her mind. The girl cringed, and the sunny, happy thoughts continued until they were deposited back in the void again.
But he had seen it, and he shook his head. "That isn't the whole story," he said, turning to set off again.
The girl reached her arm out, but she could only stand there, watching him go. She opened her mouth as if to shout, but only silence came out. He was getting closer to the truth, and she didn't want to face that. A part of her knew she had to, or it would eat her up from within... But if she kept concealing, hiding, everything would stay the same. And there is nothing more terrible than the unknown.
But he was on the verge of her memories now, like he stood at the edge of a cliff, looking down at them. One step and they'd fall. But when she tried to run, to stop him from untapping the things she'd sealed away, she found something new.
A wall, not of stone, but of glass, blocking her path. She banged her hands against it, then harder. It cracked, and she stared at the spiderweb spreading through the perfect, invisible barrier. He was getting closer, too close, reaching a paw out towards the light.
Stop... she thought, slamming her hands into the glass. As he reached them, the pool of hidden memories, the whole thing shattered and rained down. "Stop!"
It was instantaneous. The memories escaped, finally free, and Ignitus stopped as they zipped by him. He got it now. He understood why she sealed these thoughts away... Why she had to go home. A flash like lightning filled the girl's world, and in a moment, white was all they knew. A peaceful nonexistence, a nothingness beyond compare.
It could have been minutes or hours later when Ignitus finally came back to himself, though he realized that he was still in the girl's world. Nothing had changed, really. The void was just as black, the world as still and empty. But a sense of unease lingered in the air.
When he found her, he for a moment wasn't sure that it was his friend at all. She looked ten thousand years older, eyes hollow, body shaking. Chains like blinding light held her, and though she stood proud, both her arms were being dragged to the floor.
The girl looked up, but she couldn't be sure whether he was real or just a memory. Defiance still lingered in her eyes, but she was broken. This was what she had become after all these years and weeks of torment. Her facade of happiness, of serenity, was only to keep her sane. She was trying, but she'd always had to be the strong one, and it was wearing on her.
Seeing her friend, real or not, she was reminded of the past. As she looked up, frazzled brown hair falling into her face, she saw a memory, distant. She was walking along with the Guardians, laughing, the pretty forest casting dancing shadows all around them. On the way to Warfang, before all this mess had happened.
She struggled towards it, tried just to lift her arm and reach out, but bound by chains, she found herself immobile. Stuck in the past, unable to move forward.
But he had seen everything he'd needed to. Not just her memories, but the context behind them; the reason she'd fight and die for the chance to go home, even though she so desperately didn't want to. So the dragon crouched down next to her, even as she stared with tired, defeated eyes.
"You remind me of Cynder," he said. That got her attention, and she looked up in confusion. "You feel bound to your past, haunted by all of your failures, until you feel obligated to do something to redeem it..." He looked down with regret; he hadn't done enough to stop Cynder from running away.
"But even if that's a decision you feel you must make..." Ignitus looked up again. "You need not let your past control you. You'll always have a choice. And you don't need to erase these memories or lock them away... You can be happy in spite of them, can you not?"
She was staring now, uncertainty in her eyes. She'd never thought of that before. It had always been about forgetting, erasing, making new memories... Not about accepting it and moving on.
The dragon had already started to walk away, leaving her to contemplate and perhaps find reason, but he looked back. "No matter what you decide to do, we'll all be behind you. And if you must go home, everyone will be alright... Tyren included." He closed his eyes. "But you do have a choice. Remember that."
He turned to step deeper into the lightening void. But as he disappeared, the girl lifted her arms and found them unchained.
~~...~~
Sunlight was streaming brightly through the frosty glass window, warming the girl's back as she opened her eyes. Tyren was out from under the covers, laying a few inches away and watching her. Her hair was on fire, and her eyes were like black suns in the light that couldn't quite touch her face.
Normally the girl would only feel alright for a moment after awakening, until she'd remember, and the weight of the world would hit her like a train. But today, that peaceful feeling never faded. And seeing the boy sitting there examining her seriously made her smile.
"Hey..." She reached out her hand, and Tyren put his paw in hers. "You're awake, huh? Guess that makes me the lazy one."
Her quip elicited a smile from the boy, and he sat up as she stretched. "I wanna get down."
"Hmm?" She glanced at him and quirked an eyebrow. "You still have three legs in a cast. I don't think you'll be able to walk."
His answer was immediate. "Let me try."
Shrugging, the girl carefully picked him up and set him on the ground. The child struggled for a moment to stand on his bulky limbs, but finally managed to hobble a few steps forward.
"Hey, you're doing it!" the girl cheered, plopping down on the bed. "Does it hurt?"
Tyren shook his head and continued his lopsided walking. Just then, they heard heavy steps coming down the hall, and a blue head poked his head around the corner. "Walking already?" Zara asked in surprise, stepping in and setting his bag down.
"Is that alright?" the girl asked anxiously. "I figured it wouldn't hurt him, I mean–"
Zara smiled gently at her. "A little exercise never hurt anyone." He rooted through his bag, taking out a shiny metal tool she couldn't identify. "And young dragons heal fast. It's about time he started walking!" The great dragon hoisted up Tyren onto the bed to begin his examination.
"So... He'll be alright soon?" she asked, still staring with worried eyes at the nonchalant little dragon.
The doctor glanced at her. Seeing the dark circles under her tired eyes, he took a good look. He'd been in a tizzy focusing on Tyren's well-being, even the relatively calm past week, and he hadn't noticed... The girl looked like a skeleton, or a ghost.
"Have you been eating well?" he asked carefully, taking her arm in his paw. Her fingers were shaking. He closed his eyes and sighed; silly of him to not pay attention to her health as well. She must not have eaten or rested hardly at all for two weeks.
"Why don't you go make some breakfast for you and Tyren?" he suggested. "The child's alright," he ruffled the boy's head, who giggled in delight, "and nothing much interesting is going on here. Just a standard examination."
The girl considered this a moment, and rose. Yesterday, she wouldn't have dreamed of leaving Tyren's side... But suddenly, she felt assured that he'd be alright. "Okay," she agreed. Suddenly feeling cheerful, she flounced out of the room and into the sun-drenched hall. She'd hardly left for days, and it'd be nice to go downstairs for once!
The past while, everything had seemed muted and gray. Her hands were unfeeling, her body always exhausted, colours dull and everything around her unremarkable. But as she stepped into that pretty hall, it felt like she was walking into her old life again. She felt the warmth of the sun and saw the world with the same intense passion from before.
Even the Guardians exchanged confused glances as she greeted them with a cheerful good morning. She'd been skulking about for a month now, unsmiling, but for a moment it was like they had stepped back in time.
Ignitus followed her to the kitchen, where she stood chopping fruit that the small dragon could eat easily. The sun had risen enough to allow light to flood the north-facing window, but shadows still curled and stretched in the corners.
"How are you?" he asked carefully, tilting his head. The girl blinked and looked back, her sunny aura unfading. She certainly seemed happier. "You've been rather depressed these past few weeks. Are you feeling alright?"
"Actually..." She smiled and turned back to her task. "I feel fine. Tyren will be okay, so... There's no reason to keep myself down."
The dragon stood watching her a moment, then nodded. Perhaps he had helped after all, and that was the best he could hope for. "Well, good, good." He glanced back to the living room as she scraped the chopped fruit into a bowl. "Speaking of which," he said, "Here he comes now."
The girl looked up in surprise and stepped into the bright living room. Tyren was carefully making his way down the stairs, helped by a grinning Zara. Only one of the boy's legs was still in a cast, and most of his bandages were gone. It seemed that he'd nearly fully recovered.
Tyren beamed at finally being able to walk half-normally. Once down the stairs, he skipped about proudly. "I can walk again!"
Zara smirked. "Another week and you'll be running around outside like normal, little one. In the meanwhile," he picked up his bag and made for the front door, "Why don't you two go to the festival? It should be coming 'round soon. It'll be a good chance for you to get some fresh air." With a final wave, the doctor departed.
The Winter Festival? the girl thought. She'd forgotten about that, ever since Tarrok had made her read that poster. Even after the raid, they were still going through with it? She almost smirked–perhaps it was defiance; if those apes heard the sounds of celebration, they'd know that their attack had done nothing.
"What do you think, Tyren?" she suggested. "You wanna go to the festival?"
The little dragon stared at her dubiously. "Mama never took us there. She said that I could get trampled, and the music would hurt our ears, and the candy would make us sick, and..."
The girl hesitated; she didn't want to contradict a dead person. "Well..." she said carefully, "You won't get run over if I'm with you. And... I'll make sure you won't eat too much bad food!" Tyren still looked unsure, so she said with a grin, "There'll be a parade, and fireworks, and everything... I bet I can get you one to study. There's lots of inventions you can make with those."
He thought about this; a mini-explosion could be a source of power for some of his creations.
"Just go," Cyril groaned from where he was writing on the table. "I'm tired of seeing you two moping around all day. Maybe that racket will keep you out-of-doors for a few hours."
The girl grinned at Tyren, who finally beamed back. It was settled, then. In the distance, they could hear the sound of a crowd and instruments approaching, so the two dashed outside to meet them.
It was the parade, approaching quickly from down the street. Though this side of the neighborhood was uphill, the girl couldn't see to the end of the procession. Her and her companion ran to enter the crowd, sinking into a sea of smiling people there to chase the parade.
But Tyren, who was already rather small and only seven besides, was blind in a sea of legs. Seeing his trouble, the girl lifted him up onto her back so that his front paws flopped over her hood. Now, way up in the air, the boy beamed. "Look!" he cried in excitement, pointing a clawed paw.
There were dragons marching in intricately made heavy armour, moles carrying colourful banners or spinning about what looked like sparklers, cheetahs dancing lithely and performing tricks, people playing flutes and banging drums and tossing out treats to the crowd, and all sorts of other things indescribable. For a fairly quiet, unremarkable city, this was quite the spectacle.
Tyren had led a rather quiet life unexposed to such excitement, and in his young mind, even the ravine was incomparable to this. He couldn't seem to stop laughing at the festivities, and even the girl was smiling under her bandanna.
Standing in that crowd watching the parade go by, the thought struck her suddenly. We can move on.
Auren was gone, but that didn't mean they had to exist in sadness and fear forever. There was a chance for them–a chance to be happy, a chance to live. There was still happiness in this world. There was still hope.
And it wasn't about forgetting Auren. It wasn't about replacing the people you loved, finding more to help you forget. It was about accepting that they were gone, but also knowing that you can be happy despite that. You can go on with your life.
Tyren's spark would never be erased. His past was marred with blood and loss, but inside him there was light. He was an eternally cheerful child, bright and intelligent, who loved inventing new things. And he didn't have to bury that with his brother. He could still be that child.
And she, the girl who had once smiled brightly, who had held those she loved close to her heart and did her best to always be kind... That could come back too. For both of them, in spite of everything, there would always be hope. That was what Auren's memory should mean; that boy had never given up, not once, and they wouldn't either.
That was something amazing. The one beautiful thing she had pulled from the wreckage; shining, glittering, as she reached out to take it. And she held on to that small promise, that Tyren's future would never be ruined by his past. She would be there to make sure of it.
