Even though eight years had already gone by since the Great Catastrophe, its shadow still lingered. The hills and dales had yet to heal from the battle scars that night had brought, and countless men who once had homes now roamed as refugees. But the Adanels in the south-central crux of Skyland did not wait for things to get along before having peace. On stony ash they rebuilt Greimdall, their capital, and they raised it from the ashes with hardened hands and unyielding souls. Its tall, shiny towers had begun to reappear beyond the horizon, defiant of memory.
Just across that horizon, in the fertile farmlands, the village of Vaelridge was located. A small farming town, its golden grain and sea of waving wheat were nestled gently between rustling riverbanks and sunlight streams. Sun-bleached fences framed the land that had fed generations, and thatched rooftops lined the gently worn paths. Here, the air held the fragrance of dew and wild flowers, and lingering laughter floated on the breeze.
Edran dashed along a dirt path that cut through rippling wheat, his copper-brown hair ruffling in the wind and ears pricked with fear. He was 10, agile and quick-footed, with dreams too large for a town this small. He held a wooden sword his father had carved, the wood still rough from when they abandoned the forge for life in the fields.
"You swing too high! You will cut the clouds before the dragons!" a voice called from the high grass.
He spun around, grinning. Behind him stood Daina, seven years old, barefoot and tiny, her braids uneven, a wildflower she had picked clutched in one hand. On her wrist hung a woven bracelet, and dimples appeared every time she smiled.
"I wasn't trying to hit dragons," Edran said, chinning. "I was aiming for the sky. Perhaps if I strike it just so I will bust through and find Shiruba U'windo."
Daina laughed, sparkling like the wind chimes on their porch. "You say that of so many strange things!"
"It's not weird, if you believe it," he said.
A horn sounded from the road.
"The soldiers!" Edran screamed in joy, taking his little sister by the hand.
A long line of mounted knights filed past in a cloud of dust and sunlight, their cloaks waving like banners. Other villagers had also gathered to watch, waving in some places as the soldiers in shiny armor paraded through the dusty roads.
Edran's eyes gleamed to the sight. "Look at them, Daina. One day I'll wear that armor. Firya, I'll keep you safe, from the dragons, from the Sylvankin… from everything."
She glanced up at him, hesitated, but nodded. "And I will sing you when you come home."
They stayed there until the last rider was gone, then walked home, their minds abuzz.
That night, the family sat by the fire. The air in the tiny cottage was heavy with the smell of simmered herbs and roasting root vegetables. The children's mother stirred the pot lazily and hummed the usual quiet tune from their childhood, the one Daina was the most fond of.
Daina sat on a stool by the window and looked up at the stars. "Can I also sing now, Papa?" she asked.
Her dad, the strong, soot-stained man with exhausted eyes, glanced at her and smiled. "Of course, my little songbird. The stars are waiting.
She rose from her seat, cupped her hands softly over her chest, and closed her eyes.
Her voice escalated softly and breathily, the wind passing through tall grass.
"O stars above the endless sky,
Whisper where the rivers lie,
Carry dreams through silver air,
And guard the ones I hold most fair.
In fields of gold and forest deep,
Where children laugh and flowers sleep,
I'll sing until the darkness fades,
And light shall bloom in shadow's shade."
The room fell silent. The very fire snapped more quietly, as if it were listening. " He looked down at Daina when she was done, she blushing slightly, looking away with a shy smile.
"I just want to sing like that forever," she murmured.
Her mother crossed over to her and smoothed a wayward strand from her ear. "Then sing, my love. So long as your voice is alive, so is Peace."
-Break-
That night, Edran lay flat on his back, staring at the beams overhead like they might shift and spell out answers. Daina was snoring a little, just barely, a soft puff between breaths, and it made him smile, even though he was wide awake. He could still hear her song in his head, even hum a line or two if he tried. But the words felt distant now. Thin. Like mist you couldn't grab.
Then
Thud.
Something deep. Wrong.
He froze. Was that...?
Another thud. Closer. Heavier. Then a scream.
He sat up so fast he nearly fell off the cot. The air had changed. The silence between thuds was louder than the sound itself. Something was off, off in a way he didn't have words for yet.
"Daina!" he hissed, scrambling to her side. "Wake up. Get up, something's... something's happening."
She blinked at him, then the scream came again, sharper this time. Her eyes went wide.
"What's happening?" she whispered, already clinging to his arm.
"I..maybe. I dont know. We need Mama. Papa." He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs, skipping two at a time, his feet slapping the wood. The heat hit before they reached the bottom. Smoke curled out of the kitchen like something alive. The doorway there was gone, no, it was still there, but swallowed. Orange. Moving. The house was burning.
And outside. Heavy steps, like boulders rolling. Shadows gliding past the windows. Eyes glowing red No. Of no men nor beast but of terrors, nightmarish creatures crawling arround the village.
"Here! The cellar!" Edran yanked her sideways, barely dodging a falling pan. The floorboards groaned under their weight as they flung open the hatch and dropped into the dark. He nearly missed the last step, but she landed hard beside him with a cough.
They crawled under crates of old apples, dirt, something that stung the nose. Daina was shaking. So was Edran.
"I'm scared," Daina whispered, and her breath hitched.
"I know." He reached for her wrist. "Remember your song? Sing the first line. Just that."
Her lips moved. Nothing came out. Then, A single note. Wobbly. Thin as a reed. Edran hummed, off-key and rough, but loud enough to cover the cracks in her voice. He had to believe it helped. He had to.
Then—
BAM.
The door above slammed open.
"Edran! Daina!" a voice roared.
"Papa!" Edran stood, banged his head, and scrambled again. "We're here! We're here!"
"Come here! Quickly, take my hand!" their father called, reaching toward them..
Edran grabbed Daina's wrist and surged forward. The heat was unbearable. As they reached for their father's hand, a beam crashed from above.
Daina screamed as she slipped from Edran's grip.
"No, no! Daina!" Edran lunged back, smoke clawing at his eyes as he stretched his hand to grab her. He grabbed cloth? Hair? Her hand? Something tore away and his fingers closed on nothing. Just the bracelet. Just that damn bracelet before smoke swallowed her completely. With ahorric little scream ehocing thru Edran's ears as time felt like slowyng down.
On that the father grabbed Edra, pulling him backwards to the side as the house was being engulfed in fire.
"Papa! She's still in there! Let me go back!" Edran cried, struggling against his father's grip.
"No!" his father shouted, yanking him away just as the ceiling collapsed behind them in a storm of ash and flame.
"Daina!" Edran screamed, his voice cracking with heartbreak as he watched their home collapse, flames devouring everything they had known.
Outside, the village was ablaze. The sky glowed red, the fields devoured by flame. The shadows melted into the night, their purpose complete. Villagers wept. Some screamed. Others were simply gone.
Edran clutched the bracelet in his hand, his heart hollow. Daina's song was no longer in the wind. He stood there until the flames died and dawn painted the sky in muted gray. The cries of survivors echoed faintly through the scorched remains of Vaelridge.
Eventually, the soldiers came, but it was too late. The village lay in ashes, and their presence served only to inspect what little remained. Their captain dismounted near the ruins and spoke with the few elders and survivors who had clung to life through the night.
"We don't know if it was dragons or shadows," one elder muttered to the captain of the crusade who had come to investigate the horrific scene.
"It was shadows!" Edran stepped forward, his voice hoarse. "I saw them. Black, tall, with glowing red eyes."
The captain turned, barely sparing him a glance. "And who are you, boy?"
"I'm Edran. I want to join the soldiers. I want to avenge my sister." His voice was steady, his gaze unwavering despite the tears welling in his eyes. A storm of grief burned behind his stare, but it was sharpened by something fiercer and resolve.
"You're too young," the captain said with a faint, knowing smirk. It wasn't mockery, but the recognition of someone who had seen this kind of fire before. "Keep surviving. Grow stronger. Then come find me."
"What's your name?" Edran asked, his voice cracking.
The captain paused before answering. "Captain Halric," he said. "Remember it."
Before leaving, the soldiers addressed the remaining villagers. "Gather your dead," one said. "Those of you with strength, come to Greimdall. You'll be placed in refugee camps or considered for reassignment. If you want protection, you must earn it."
The survivors obeyed without protest. They had no fight left, but Edran did.He watched as the soldiers mounted their horses and disappeared beyond the trees, leaving the broken village behind.
Edran held the bracelet tight in his hand, its threads singed but intact, like the memory of her voice, still echoing in his chest. He would go to Greimdall someday, not as a beggar or a child, but as someone forged by fire, carrying the promise of a voice the world had tried to silence.