Page 45 of Of Empires and Dust

Eltoar clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around Voranur’s collar. The earth shook as Helios landed behind him, a deep rumble resonating in the dragon’s throat. Helios lowered his neck, looming over Eltoar, forelimbs pressing into the soil.

Seleraine dropped behind Voranur on the downward slope of the hill, talons holding her in place. She was half Helios’s size, but still an immense creature in her own right. The horns that framed her face were thick and sleek, the colour of deep ice, and angled outwards like the spikes of a morning star. Her muscles were lean and powerful, as quick as she was strong.

The two dragons towered over their soulkin, thunder rolling in the skies above. Eltoar could feel the rage smouldering in Helios’s chest, the dragon’s protective instincts taking hold. His fury would make the flames of Argona look like a campfire.

After a moment, Voranur rested his hand atop Eltoar’s – which still had hold of the elf’s collar – and shook his head. The tone of his voice was no less than a lament. “Uvrín mír, akar. Myia saleere tanathil mír.”

Forgive me, brother. My pain devours me.

The words rang in Eltoar’s ears, and he stared into Voranur’s eyes. Over the centuries, he had watched the elf grow darker, pull into himself.

Eltoar let go of Voranur’s collar and clasped his temples, pulling their heads together, then wrapped his arms around his kin. The two had never been close. Before The Fall, they hadknown each other only in passing, and since then, they had been bound by little more than their choices. But at that moment, Eltoar squeezed Voranur as though the elf was the dearest friend he had ever known. Eltoar squeezed him as though he were Alvira, as though he were Pellenor, as though he were everyone Eltoar had ever lost. There were so few of them left now, all they truly had was each other.

Voranur pulled away and turned back towards the city, Seleraine bowing her head and pressing the tip of her snout against his chest.

A crack of thunder opened the skies, and rain sheeted down over them, cold against Eltoar’s skin. He leaned back his head, letting the droplets crash against his face and soak into his clothes. A shadow spread across the ground before Eltoar, the rain abating as Helios’s wings unfurled to form a canopy. Helios stretched forward and nuzzled his head into Seleraine’s jaw, a low whine escaping his throat.

Eltoar brushed the wet hair from his face and made his way to Voranur, who dropped himself to the ground and looked out through the downpour.

Eltoar sighed and sat beside Voranur, the already sodden grass squelching beneath him.

They sat there in silence, the rain drumming against the two dragons’ scales and wings, thunder cracking overhead, lightning flashing across the horizon.

“I know what they became,” Voranur said, finally. “Jormun and Ilkya. I watched the darkness take them. But they were everything I had.”

“I know.” Eltoar leaned forwards, wrapping his arms around his knees, cold rain trickling down his cheeks. He understood Voranur’s pain. Losing Pellenor had set him in a dark place, but this wasn’t about him.

“I don’t regret what we did all those years ago.” Voranur sucked in his cheeks and shook his head. “The Order had run its course. It was rotten. But I do regret that we couldn’t show more of our brothers and sisters the light. I remember every face, the roar of every dragon. They haunt my sleep.” He wiped water from his eyes. “I wanted to create something better, something worth fighting for.”

The short laugh that Voranur choked out held as much joy as a funeral pyre. “Tell me, brother.” He turned his head from the horizon of sheeting rain and locked his gaze with Eltoar’s. “What is the point of tearing something down if what we build in its place is no better?”

Eltoar wished he had an answer, but the question was one he had wrestled with for a long time.

As they sat there, the words Tivar had spoken to him in the temple at Dracaldryr drifted thorough his mind.“I will not put another of our kind in the ground. I will not tear another soul in half. Not on the word of that monster you call a friend. That demon you brand an emperor.”

At first, when Voranur had told Eltoar and Lyina that Tivar had betrayed them, Eltoar had been furious. A rage had burned in him like little else he’d ever felt. She was the closest thing he had to a sister. Even after his brother had fallen, Eltoar had still loved her like family. Shewasfamily, if not by blood, then by bond. Her betrayal was a knife in his heart.

But slowly, the rage had faded to sorrow and eventually to understanding. Tivar had not betrayed him. She had simply done what her heart required of her. Calen Bryer and his soulkin were the only thing that stood between their kind and extinction. She had always been a protector, always been driven by the need to help others. That was her way.

“Eltoar! Voranur!” Lyina’s voice broke the monotony of the rainfall.

Both Voranur and Eltoar glanced at each other, then rose.

Lyina marched towards them in her full white plate, dark blonde hair tacked to her face, rain rolling over her skin.

“This was in the tent when I returned from patrol.” Lyina lifted a sheet of parchment as she stepped beneath the canopy of Helios’s wings. Her eyes were dark, brow furrowed, rage etched into the lines of her face. She shoved the parchment into Eltoar’s hand.

“They want to meet,” she said through gritted teeth. “By the old temple on the hill to the east.”

“The temple to Elyara?” Voranur leaned across Eltoar, reading the letter.

Eltoar,

It is time we talked.Meet us by the temple of The Maiden atop Darnírin’s Hill.

We will wait.

Salara

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