Shilan sprinted through the darkening field, panting heavily, the cool evening air passing through her small lungs, making them burn. He was too close behind for her to stop, and he was swiftly gaining on her. The long tendrils of aged grass were a golden blur as she wove between them, tickling her cheeks as she passed them by. She ran as fast as her short, little legs could carry her in a desperate attempt to escape her pursuer. The heavy breaths of the man behind her grew loud in her ears. Her heart began to beat faster and heavier, like the pounding of a war drum. She knew she could not escape him with his long, strong strides, but she had to try.
Slowly, his shadow grew until it eclipsed her own. He was going to strike at any moment, and there was little more she could do to escape. She wove through the tall grass, veering left and right, trying to throw her assailant off her trail, but the shadow lingered, and continued to eclipse her.
She closed her eyes, bracing herself for her pursuer’s imminent assault.
A firm set of hands grasped around her tiny waist. “I’ve got you!” came a gruff, though playful voice. Suddenly, Shilan’s feet only touched air as the man lifted her from the ground. Their chase was over. She flailed in his arms, trying desperately to free herself, but to no avail. A grin slowly emerged on his face.
“Daddy! Let go of me!” Shilan laughed.
Her father spun her around, his eyes filled with glee. He too began to laugh. Their sounds of joy rang through the air like a pair of chimes echoing their song across the wind of the dying day. “I never thought that someone so small could run for so long,” he said proudly, returning her gently to the ground as he panted. “You’re certainly faster than you used to be. I used to be able to catch you within thirty seconds last year.”
Shilan looked up at him, and squinted in the light. The marvelous orange sun was setting just over her father’s shoulder, so she moved into his shadow to see him better. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a frame to match. He wore a simple, brown leather vest, and wool pants of the same colour. Beneath his vest lay a rough, cream linen shirt, which had frayed slightly around the edges from its use. His bright blue eyes seemed to shine in the shadows as he gazed down lovingly at his daughter. His lips were stretched in a wide grin.
Shilan couldn’t help but feel warm inside. She loved it when her father was happy. She returned his sentiment, and gave him a toothy smile of delight.
“Wanna go to the market, sweet roll?” he inquired, his sandy‑brown hair rimmed with sunbeams. “You haven’t gone there with me in a while, and someone I met from work told me they have a new stock of sweet bread that just came in.”
The young girl’s eyes immediately lit up at the thought of delectable sweet bread, and her mouth gaped open in excitement before she let out a high squeal of pure joy. She used to go with her father for small treats like that quite often when she was younger, but they were usually out of stock as of recent days. She couldn’t resist this powerful lure, but before she could accept his generous offer, a voice penetrated the calm air around them.
“Kalinar! Shilan! Come inside! It’s getting dark and supper’s nearly ready.”
At the command, Kalinar sighed deeply, his posture deflating. “Well, I can’t say no to your mother. I’ll take you to the market tomorrow—… or—… well—…” His eyes slowly fell down to the ground, his thick brows ruffling as a frown emerged on his previously joyous face. “Now that I think about it,” he muttered, “maybe the day after. I’ll be working late tomorrow. Hopefully, I won’t have any meetings the next day though, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
Shilan looked up at her father and wondered if he was trying to justify why he couldn’t go, or if he was simply talking through his own schedule to himself. She sighed too, but understood that he was a busy man, and couldn’t go for sweet bread at just any hour of the day.
“Does that sound okay sweetie?” he asked, looking down at her, hope and guilt swimming in his eyes like the sun and moon being present in the sky at once.
“That’s fine, daddy,” she answered, feigning satisfaction, though her face betrayed her disappointment despite her best efforts.
“Thank you,” said Kalinar, grateful for his daughter’s understanding. He bent down and took her fragile hand in his, and they walked together back to their home.
The last moments of sunlight illuminated the golden tips of the grains, grasses and shrubs that dwelt within the field as they walked, a common sighting around their quaint village, which was made up of mostly farmers for the surrounding mining colonies. It would stink of manure in the spring, but the gorgeous view of the harvest was breathtaking.
After a few tender feelings of peace, the sun retreated behind the seemingly endless expanse of fields travelling westward, but to the east, the mountains whose feet sat but a short league away still basked in the sun’s company.
The high peaks loomed over their village, darkening its streets in the early mornings, giving the occupants a sense of doom and fear, though in the evenings, the sun transformed the steep, rocky cliffside into a lantern that fought back the depths of night for a few minutes each day. Their frozen peaks high above shone in the fleeting glow, though quickly, dark clouds billowed in from behind them, dampening Shilan’s spirits in an instant. Any hopes she had of playing outside the next day would be quickly dampened.
After their brief walk, they came to the broad, scratched oak door at the back of their home on the edge of the village. Upon Kalinar opening it, a dim light poured through the doorway, and Shilan could hear the sharp banging of pots and the obnoxiously loud chatter of her two brothers within.
“Go sit down. We’ll bring in dinner soon,” Kalinar informed his young daughter.
Though she wanted to help out, Shilan knew better than to argue against her parents’ wishes, so she walked over to the table, and clambered onto her usual seat, which was still a tad too high for her. Her chair wasn’t terribly comfortable, being made of a rough, sturdy wood, and it made her shift her weight every minute or so. She hoped that when she was taller than the chair that she might find it a little cozier, or that she simply would be able to weather the discomfort better with age. As for now though, her feet swung in and out, not ever touching the floor.
Her two older brothers were already seated, and they talked loudly about the recent news of the war far away. Her parents never talked about the war in front of her so her curious ears couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation.
“They seem to be doing better,” said Willion, the younger of the two. “I mean they’ve started to push the dragons back into Delmrin, right?” Willion was a thin boy, and far taller than Shilan, which was expected as he was also five years her senior, though even for his age he was tall. He had a mop of deep brown hair, and bright green eyes, both of which he inherited from their mother.
“They’re trying,” answered Kalinon, the eldest child. Kalinon was named after his father, as was customary of the first son of the family, and he was Willion’s senior by two years. He had short blond hair that glimmered in the candlelight, similar to his father’s when he’d been a boy. He also had his father’s blue eyes. His build was more than that of his brother’s in stature, though their heights were similar, which annoyed Kalinon to no end. He was slowly picking away at a bread roll that he had stolen from the kitchen. “I heard the dragon stones they’re using might make the job easier for them, but they’re still getting thrashed out there. Dragons are tough.”
Shilan heard their words, but they held little meaning to her seven‑year-old mind. She couldn’t begin to imagine where Delmrin was, or what the war was about, or even what a dragon stone was, though her curiosity edged her to ask.
“What’s a dragon stone?” came her sheepish voice.
“You’ll learn when you’re older,” answered Kalinon bluntly, irritated by her interjection, “and don’t interrupt. You’re not part of this, so scram.”
Shilan tilted her head down in defeat, but kept eye contact with her brother, her green eyes meeting his blue. Shilan and Kalinon had never really gotten along as far back as she could remember. He seemed to think that she was too young and stupid to have a reasonable conversation with him, and that he was too old to be dealing with children. He had often tried to inject himself into their parents’ conversations, as Shilan had just done to her brothers, and he would insist that he too was an adult, and should thus be included, despite him only being fourteen. His attempts bore as much fruit as her own.
“Be nice to your sister!” Kalinar’s voice echoed from the next room. Kalinon scowled coldly at her, and turned his attention back to his brother, whom he was quite close with.
Shilan tried to continue eavesdropping, as her curiosity had not yet been satisfied, but her brothers turned themselves away from her, and spoke only in whispers. After a few more attempts of her leaning in her seat to get a hint of what they were saying, they shifted away again, and she gave up trying.
With that, she sat back in her hard chair, and glared at her brothers, her eyes drilling holes into the backs of their heads as she pouted. No one told her anything about the war, yet its seeming secrecy only further sparked her intrigue. All she knew was that dragons had become a problem in some far-off country, and that lots of people were dying because of it.
As Shilan was reviewing what she knew about the topic in her head, her parents came out of the kitchen carrying supper; her father held a couple of plates, and her mother followed behind him with a small pot.
Shilan’s short stature initially barred her from seeing what was held in these vessels, but she tried to peep up into them anyways, nearly causing for her chair to topple over.
Her parents walked to the table and put the plates down on the bare wooden surface. There was a loaf of bread, a small knob of butter, and a few slices of beef on the plates, and some hot potato soup within the pot. It was a rather ordinary meal, but that’s what was commonly available to those of their class, being neither poor nor rich.
Kalinar sat down beside Shilan, and her mother made her way to the other end of the table, as was polite in their culture. Once her mother had taken her seat, the two brothers’ hands immediately shot out, grabbing hungrily at the food, claiming their small share onto their plates. Kalinar rolled his eyes and then went to grab some bread for Shilan before it had all been devoured.
Dinner was rather small for conversation that night, as was usual in the Darkron house. Shilan was too young for talk of war, and the boys were too young for talk of politics or household concerns, and thus, idle pleasantries and small‑talk were often employed between bites during their meals.
The boys were stuffing their faces with what they could, and Kalinar, though more polite in his mannerisms, ate with equal fervor.
Shilan’s mother ate very quietly and properly, as she had been taught to when she was a little girl, only a bit older than Shilan was now.
Shilan was hungry, and tried to stuff her face like the other boys, but each time she did so her mother would glance up sharply at her. Shilan would pause her ravenous eating momentarily and quickly switch to mimic eating as her mother did. Her mother would look back down, and the feasting would recommence. Her mother always noticed the continuation, and often wouldn’t do anything against it if she was in a good mood. She chuckled to herself and shook her head.
Kalinar looked up and grinned at his wife, his eyes narrowing playfully. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Oh nothing,” she answered, a coy smile growing wider on her face. “Just how your daughter has picked up your eating habits.”
“Now, Shilara,” he began, making a weak attempt to look offended, “I would never expect you to make such an accusation! And my daughter? You’ve always said how she looks so much like you! She even has your eyes. You can’t simply label her as mine because she enjoys eating more than you do.”
Shilara glanced up at Kalinar, raising an eyebrow sternly. She managed to hold the expression for only a few moments though before her crossness was replaced with a vain imitation of pouting, and then, when she could no longer hope to pretend, she let out a burst of joyous laughter. “You’re impossible! I love you,” she proclaimed with a wide smile. Her emerald eyes shone adoringly towards her husband.
Kalinon and Willion both immediately stopped eating and stuck out their tongues at each other in distaste.
“Eww! Mom! Dad! Stop it!” They both said, nearly in unison.
Kalinar rose from the table, approached his wife, and gave her a gentle kiss atop her head.
The boys covered their eyes, and pleaded with their parents to stop exercising the distasteful idea of love.
Shilan giggled gaily.
Their father, enjoying their animated reactions, grinned mischievously before planting a firm kiss on Shilara’s lips, being sure to dwell there for a moment longer than necessary.
Willion howled in dismay, and briefly flailed about before losing balance, and falling off his chair.
Kalinon ducked his head under the table to avoid the romantic scene unfolding before him, his juvenile actions betraying his own insistence regarding his maturation.
Shilan laughed at the display, her face glowing with glee.
Their father’s face left their mother’s with a smug smirk, and Shilara had a large, satisfied grin plastered on her face. He stood beside her chair, and placed a hand strongly on her shoulder, his attention returning to his sons. “Okay, now go put your plates in the kitchen and get ready for bed,” he instructed. “It’s getting dark out and you both have to be up early for your chores tomorrow.”
“Aww! Do we have to?” the boys said, again, nearly in unison.
“Yes, you have to. Now go upstairs and tidy your rooms. I don’t want to trip on anything when I come to say goodnight. Run along now.”
The boys got up, and dutifully obeyed.
Shilan too scooted off her firm chair, and did the same without instruction. She quickly put her dish in the kitchen and made her way towards the stairs.
“Shilan,” her mother called from her father’s study just beyond the stairwell, where she and Kalinar had migrated after dinner, “could you come here for a moment?”
Shilan walked dutifully into the large room.
A fireplace lined with cobblestone sat centered on the wall facing the door, a small flame dancing inside, providing the room with a warm glow. The walls were plain and empty on either side of the hearth and mantel, but on the adjacent wall to the right, where her father’s desk was located, stood a tall, rugged bookshelf, which was filled loosely with various tomes, papers, and trinkets. Her mother would often read to her from some of those books, but only from those which held adventures from far-off lands. She knew those few stories were always on the bottom shelf, though she constantly wondered of the contents of the books above.
The only other furniture in the room was her father’s wooden chair for the desk, a lightly cushioned chair for her mother by the fire, an iron rack for holding firewood, and a small, round table in the leftmost corner. On the table was a small, blue vase containing a bright purple bouquet of wildflowers that grew in the surrounding area.
Kalinar sat at his dark, wooden desk on the far side of the room, reading over papers from work. Shilan knew little of his occupation, but he had some kind of business to do with running their village and would have to travel to surrounding towns too, though she wasn’t ever able to extract much information from him when she asked about it.
Her mother sat in front of the fire, her beautiful blue gown shining softly in the warm light. She had turned her chair to face the doorway, wherein Shilan now stood. Shilara smiled at Shilan, and beckoned her daughter to join her. Shilan obeyed. Shilara’s green eyes glimmered warmly in the faint light of the fire, inviting Shilan to let down her guard. Her hair reflected very little of the light, giving her face a dark frame that made her pale skin more apparent than usual.
“Yes, mother?” Shilan asked politely, expecting instruction of some kind.
Her mother nodded lightly in approval of her manners. “Thank you for being polite,” Shilara praised, smiling down at her. Shilan waited patiently for her mother to continue. “And thank you for making your father so happy. I haven’t seen him smile this much in a while.”
Kalinar stopped reading his papers, though his eyes stayed unfocused upon them, for his ears were now alert to his mentioning, and he listened, eager to lap up any words regarding himself.
Shilara glanced over at him briefly before continuing, a knowing grin on her face. “Though, I’ll have to start teaching you how to be a proper lady soon.”
Shilan did not like the sound of that, as it meant her antics of playing in the fields were soon coming to an end. She crinkled her soft, round nose in disdain. “Do I have to?” she questioned.
The mother paused, offering a deep and loving gaze into her daughter’s matching eyes. Shilara reached down and ran her fingers through Shilan’s chestnut brown hair. “Yes, Shilan. It’s important to behave properly when you get older, otherwise…” she grinned playfully, and turned her view to her eavesdropping husband who was sitting patiently, his eyes still glued idly to his documents, “how else would you be able to trick someone into marrying you so easily?”
Kalinar’s head shot up. “Hey! I chose wholeheartedly to marry you! There was no trickery in that!” he insisted.
“If you say so, darling,” she cooed teasingly. Kalinar wasn’t quite satisfied with this response, but he was clever enough to know when he was being toyed with, and his attention returned to his papers.
Again, Shilara turned her eyes to her daughter. “It’s important for you to learn some manners. It’ll make life just a little bit easier for you, and it’s tradition. My mother did the same for me when I was around your age.” Despite her words, Shilan still held a sour look on her face as she pouted. Shilara sighed. “We’ll discuss this more later,” she finished. “Now, it’s getting late, so I suppose you too should get to bed. Your brothers are probably already waiting for us to see them to sleep.”
“Right! I almost forgot about that,” Kalinar blurted out, having lost himself once more among his documents. He put down the stack of parchment and got up from his chair, immediately heading for the doorway.
“Come on then; up to bed,” Shilara instructed.
Shilan obediently turned, and slumped off towards her bedroom, her mother following close behind her.
The stairs creaked quietly under her weight as she crawled up towards the second story of their home, after which she made her way towards her room. She passed the two doors on her left, the only other rooms on that floor, the first being her parents’, and the second being that of her brothers. Kalinar was already inspecting the tidiness of the room, as the boys sat patiently on their bed, awaiting their release from duty.
Shilan continued on, and walked into her neat, tidy little room and quickly got ready for a long, peaceful night’s rest. She climbed into bed and awaited her parents’ arrival. Sounds of them saying goodnight to her brothers in the next room weaved their way to her ears, and soon, the light from their room ceased.
A small, flickering candle that stood on her bedside table cast its warm light across her own room. She gazed deep into the flame’s depths, and was entranced by its dance, twisting and turning however it willed. It seemed so free, even when bound to the confines of its wick. She felt a connection with that minuscule flame, though the looming responsibilities of maturity threatened her previously carefree existence. Despite her inevitable lessons, today had been a good day for her, and she slowly started nodding off to the calming display of the simple flame.
“Are you all ready for bed, sweet roll?” her father asked, entering the room, her mother following gracefully behind.
Shilan’s head shot up. “Yes, daddy,” she responded, a small grin growing on her face.
Her mother walked over to her bed, bent down, and planted a small kiss on her forehead. Kalinar stood by the door, allowing his wife to handle the child’s release to slumber. She had a gentler touch than he did, and was better at settling the kids down when they needed to rest, especially considering his more playful nature with Shilan.
Shilara swiveled her head towards the candle, and blew it out with one smooth breath, causing darkness to quickly engulf the room, though the doorway still glowed calmly around her father’s watching figure. A small column of smoke rose from where the candle’s flame had once been, dancing upwards, continuing its predecessors beautiful work. Shilan had hoped that she would get to watch the flame more that night, but she always knew it would return the next day. She could hear her mother walking towards the door and then saw her silhouette joining that of her father.
“Goodnight,” they both said.
Her father’s darkened silhouette reached towards the small wooden latch of her door, and slowly let it follow him as he joined his wife in the corridor. The door closed with a creak, and now all that was left was the dark.
It was peaceful. Shilan let out a sigh, and laid her head onto her soft pillow, and pulled her thin blankets up to her shoulders before closing her eyes, allowing herself to become lost to the unconscious world.
* * * *
Shilan woke up surrounded by a dim light, though this was not the light of day; it couldn’t be. The sound of roaring filled her ears. Never before had she heard a sound so thunderously loud. She clapped her hands over her ears, and yet the cacophonic chorus pierced through her flesh like a volley of needles, and could not be blocked out. Panicked, she sat up in bed, and looked around the room, but didn’t notice any immediate changes.
Suddenly, the entire house shook as if it had been built upon a foundation of sand. Shilan could hear screaming outside; a sound that she wished more desperately than any other that she could dispel.
A faint glow slowly appeared from beyond the door frame. The light grew in intensity, and she could hear a faint crackling quickly becoming louder behind it. The screams of her brothers echoed through the air. Shilan began to tremble, tears welling in her eyes. What’s happening? was the only thought that survived in her head.
BAM! Her brothers’ door was slammed open. Over her sibling’s wailing cries, she now made out the sound of her mother from the end of the hall, who let out a high-pitched shriek, chilling Shilan to the bone.
This is just a dream, she told herself. She buried her head in her pillow, tears streaming down her face, but sleep did not dare repossess her behind its illusory veil of peace. The cries of her brothers died down quickly, though her mother’s screams grew until they were nearly deafening to Shilan. Soon, that was all she could hear. It’s not real. It’s NOT real! she insisted in her mind.
BAM! Her own door burst open this time, causing Shilan to scream out in fright and bolt upright, only to find her father standing in the doorframe, tears welling in his eyes, and a serious look sealed on his face. Kalinar’s clothes were singed and blackened in places.
A roaring fire engulfed the hallway behind him, and angrily devoured the floors and walls. The smell of ash and charcoal filled the room as black, ominous clouds billowed in from the doorway. The inferno ate its way along, and was nearly at her door, gnawing away at the only place she’d called home.
Kalinar ran to Shilan’s bed and grabbed her roughly by the waist, sparing no time for her comfort. Her cries were barely audible amongst the enveloping cracks and snaps of the fire, and over the tumultuous roaring outside. Her mother’s screaming had stopped.
Her father made his way to the only remaining exit: the small window that lay within the wall above her bed. He kicked at it, shattering portions of the fragile surface, and dislodging its sturdy frame.
The fire was advancing on them rapidly. It had made its way halfway into the room, and was lapping eagerly on the foot of her bed. The room had suddenly gotten very warm, and beads of sweat began to form on Shilan’s brow, though from panic or heat, she could not tell. Her vision became useless to her as tears completely overwhelmed her. She felt herself being lifted towards the window as she wailed, her father’s grip so tight that it was nearly tearing into her flesh.
Suddenly, within an instant, a very different sensation fell over her: one of weightlessness. Shilan was falling. She could still feel her father pressing closely to her, refusing to let go, but still, she clung to him frantically, afraid of what would happen if his strong grip were to fail.
Time seemed to stop for a moment. The fire roared through the window above, the passionate display of the flames taunting her descent, her brothers’ crying was growing in volume, and there was a bellowing of some beast in the distance. Despite these many sounds, the loudest of all was her mother’s silence.
Her father crashed onto the ground with Shilan atop his chest. The air was immediately pushed from her lungs, as if one of her brothers had hit her in the gut, and her back exploded in pain. She tried to scream, but her chest gave her nothing on which to carry her high voice. Her father didn’t move.
Shilan rolled off of his chest, and grasped at her own. She gasped, trying to restore the much‑needed oxygen to her body and, after several attempts, air came rushing back into her. She wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to look around, her vision still blurred.
She could make out her house and the ones going up and down the street. They were nearly all engulfed in flame. Most were still standing, but a couple had already collapsed, their owners running frantically from their homes, and into the surrounding fields. Many were crying and wailing, having loved ones whom they did not see with them. Others ran into the blazing buildings towards the screams of others, in hope of saving the few who lay trapped within their wooden cages.
Her eyes turned to her father, who remained motionless on the ground. A small flame chewed hungrily on the corner of his shirt. Shilan swatted at the flame, extinguishing it after a few short attempts. She pulled her hands away, which were now slightly blackened from her father’s charred garment, and wiped the oncoming tears from her eyes, as her vision was beginning to fail her once again. The introduction of soot from her hands made her eyes sting.
She looked around for any sign of the rest of her family. Kalinon and Willion both lay on the ground. Kalinon wailed loudly, while Willion was crumpled into a ball, weeping uncontrollably.
Where’s mother, thought Shilan.She scanned the faces of the other villagers through her tears, hoping to see her amongst them. Shilara was nowhere to be seen.
An ear-splitting roar echoed across the sky, and many of the townsfolk ducked down and dove to the ground. Shilan covered her ears with her blackened hands, trying to soften the monstrous sound, though just as before, her efforts gave her no relief.
Everyone around looked to the sky, and her eyes followed theirs. Her view met the dark red scales of a dragon soaring through the air, wisps of fire hanging precariously on the edges of its mouth. The ravenous beast dove into the crowd of villagers and clawed at them with its razor-sharp talons, though it missed.
Bowmen raced out into the streets, soldiers with which Shilan was familiar, who would stand guard at their village. They dutifully fired arrows at the dragon, but to little avail, as most of the pitiful sticks simply ricocheted without so much as scratching a single shimmering scale. One arrow though seemed to have more luck than the others, as it found its way smartly into one of the monster’s eyes, embedding itself within its flesh.
The dragon let out a mighty roar, causing the air itself to tremble in fear. Brilliant red blood spurt forth from its wounded orb, coating its scales in another shade of crimson.
It dropped like a boulder onto a nearby house, the roof collapsing immediately under the dragon’s weight, though the second floor managed to catch it from descending further. The splinters of wooden shingles fell from the roof, littering the ground. As the dragon’s head reemerged from the cloud of debris, the townspeople ran from the house, fearing that the dragon was spying for its next meal, but Shilan could only stay petrified in place.
The dragon arched its neck and closed its mouth. Its cheeks expanded, and its face became extremely tense. Its head shot forward, pointing directly at the soldiers, and it released a torrent of flame from its sinister maw.
The men tried to run, but the blazing inferno was faster. Two soldiers shrieked as they were engulfed by the fire, though they quickly fell silent, their bodies falling to the ground, blackened and charred. Many others leaped to the ground, trying to dodge the attack behind surrounding debris or an odd lump of dirt, though most of the men were still singed by the volley, and some of their clothes were set ablaze. Their lack of proper armor certainly didn’t help against the dragon’s destructive force.
The bowmen quickly rose after the flames had subsided, and they drew their arrows again. Another volley clashed against the dense scales of the dragon, though this time a few more lodged themselves into its flesh. The dragon recoiled in pain, and blasted a sudden gust of sparks up into the sky, illuminating the dark clouds above with a foreboding glow.
The dragon spread its wings, and gave off a powerful flap, sending further debris and smoke into the crowd of terrified soldiers and citizens.
Shilan, through her tears, could faintly make out at least five arrows stuck into the dragon’s hide, each one covered in dark red blood that shone in the light of the blazes surrounding them.
The dragon roared one last time before turning about and flying towards the eastern mountains.
As her eyes were glued to the east, Shilan felt a small drop of water land on her tear‑stained cheek, which was caked in soot and dirt. The only sound that filled her ears was the gradually increasing patter of raindrops, and the wailing of the surrounding townsfolk.
The soldiers still ran about, either helping the wounded or getting water from the town well to quench the remaining fires’ thirst for destruction. The burning buildings hissed with every drop of rain that fell, and cried with each bucket of water thrown upon their aching skeletons.
Before she knew it, Shilan was drenched from head to toe as the clouds wept for their loss, and the fires quickly died down.
After a moment, her father grumbled. He had started to come to. Her brothers ran to him, and yelled at their father about the house and their discomfort. Tears still streamed down their rosy cheeks.
Where’s mother? Shilan thought to herself. She imagined the worst, and even more tears began to roll down her face, mixing with the cold rain.
Her father raised a hand on his head and rubbed it, wincing as he felt the large, bleeding lump on its back. He tried to sit up, but the pain was too much for him, and he keeled over.
“Shilara?” he mumbled softly, almost too quietly for Shilan to hear. He opened his eyes and looked to the house. Its blackened frame sat as a horrific reminder of the night’s events.
The homely sense of warmth had been stripped away by the fire, most of the walls having been eaten away by the catastrophe, leaving only a skeleton of beams, and the roof had collapsed on most of the house, including on her parent’s room.
“Shilara?” her father said, now speaking at his normal volume. Despite the pain, he began to raise his head. “Shilara?” he asked again, louder, and more expectantly. With great difficulty, his legs wobbling and his posture wavering, he rose from the ground, pushing Shilan to the side.
“Shilara?! Shilara!” he shouted, as if pleading with life itself that his worst fears were not to be. “SHILARA!” he screamed, trying to fumble his way over to the house with an obvious limp. He only made it a few steps before collapsing.
Shilan could see a red stain growing on his side, and blood had begun to trickle down the back of his neck. He looked back up towards the house, scanning it for signs of his wife. After a painful moment, he managed to get to his knees to obtain a better view. After a few seconds, his eyes grew wide, and he fell silent and still. Without warning, he crumpled to the ground, and began to sob uncontrollably.
Shilan walked over towards the house, her bare feet dragging numbly through the cold grass and the mud. Her watery, jade eyes gazed up into the gaping holes of the house, though the darkness of night still ate up most of the scene before her. Some of the second story seemed to still have a floor to it, including what used to be her parents’ room, despite the caved roof. She focused her attention onto that crushed room, scanning for any sign of her mother’s escape.
“Shilan!” Kalinar wailed between gasping sobs. “Get away from there!”
Shilan continued walking towards the house, ignoring her father’s desperate plea. A small section of fire had remained lit, and was offered cover by a section of fallen roof. This flame was just enough to give a faint glow to the room, which was caked in ash and soot. Shilan could make out the silhouette of her parents’ bed through a section of fallen wall. Its sheets had been incinerated by the fire, and the frame was blackened. A large beam from the roof had collapsed on the bed. Shilan screamed in horror, tears erupting again from her eyes, as she now saw what it was her father had seen only moments prior: two hands wrapped around the beam from underneath. Charred. Blackened. Dead.
Read the rest in Book 1 of The Dragon Wars: Shilan