Nameless

An aspiring Sentinel, this young Gaoler gave up her childhood to train vigorously. At first, the other dragons were unsure of her abilities. Therefore, on her first journey to lead the clan's hopeful exalts to the army of the Icewarden, they sent another Gaoler to join her. She was not thrilled.

She stared up bravely at the towering giant, while he only returned an empty gaze. Their eyes glowed softly in the night; barely illuminating a few snowflakes falling in front of their faces from under the long fur that constantly invaded their vision. Unlike the snow, silence hung in the air for a moment.

"You're coming with me?" she asked, wanting to be the first one to speak.

"I suppose," he replied. "Not my idea."

Her face twisted. "Well, I don't want any help. And what's that supposed to mean?"

When he said nothing back, she huffed and turned away. "Follow me!"



Thankfully, it was a fairly calm night, in terms of the weather. The snowfall never ceased, but the skies were still forgiving and only gave the least cold-resistant exalts any trouble. They shivered and followed the Gaoler girl, with him following them at a distance. While her body blended in with the night, his blended in with the snow, and so they relied on the lanterns they carried in their mouths to light the way.

Their expedition eventually led them to an outpost by the regional border -
the entrance to The Fortress of Ends - guarded by armored Tundras and the much larger Gaolers.
One Tundra, apparently the one in charge of the post, approached the hatchling. "Halt."

"I have led ten dragons here, trained by The Untitled Clan's mercenaries.
They hope to serve the Icewarden," she explained. "Is there a problem?"

The Tundra gave them all a look, including he, who was standing away from the group.
"What about him?"

"...Just ignore him. I can do my job."

"You're too young for a job. We'll accept these dragons as exalts." He led the group to a booth-like structure, where he instructed a young adult Tundra to open a chest. She pulled out a few handfuls of treasure and quickly counted out the correct number of coins. The young Gaoler was elated to be handed a sizable bag of gold, which the female Tundra took notice of. It seemed she thought it was cute, as she also slipped in a few gems with a smile. The nameless girl thanked her and walked away beaming,
as the last of the exalted dragons were processed and led in further.

She looked up to him, expecting some sort of response or reaction, but she got none.



"Do you not think I can become a Sentinel or something?"

They had nearly reached the clan when the young Gaoler asked her escort the question. He needed no emotion to express it had caught him off guard; his pause was enough.

"What?"

"I said, do you not think I can do it."

"I never said that."

"But you're thinking it!"

"No."

She finally became too frustrated, and stopped walking. "What's wrong with you?
You could at least try to show that you care! Are you that bad with hatchlings?
And what's your job, anyway? Adults should definitely have one!"

He sighed, and sat in front of the younger Gaoler.
"I don't know. It's hard. Yes. I used to be a Sentry. Not now."

This surprised the girl, and not just because this was the most he's spoken at once. "Wait- what?"

"My unit failed at our duties. We were relieved of work and any honor we might've had."

Once again, silence overcame them. And once again, she broke it.

"But I heard you used to...be some sort of nobility."

His tail swished across the glittering snow uncomfortably.
"Yes. That is another life. Let's continue, please."

She frowned, but followed him back to the clan as the sunrise began to reveal itself over the mountains.



After meeting with the strange Nocturne that gave the rest of the clan its orders, the Gaolers prepared to retire to their personal buildings. The structures stood out as being simple yet well made; built to keep other nosy dragons out (namely, the Faes). She initially found it odd that she wouldn't share a building with her parents, but grew accustomed to the breeding pairs living separately from the rest of the clan. The nameless hatchling entered her building, and prepared to rest.

But the girl was unable to sleep. There was nothing she could stare at, for she hoarded nothing. Just empty walls, a boring floor, a plain ceiling, and sunlight trying to creep inside through the window. After some hours, she had enough, and went back outside. Something had been on her mind for a while, and she needed answers, no matter how willing they were.

She knocked on his door, and heard nothing from within. She knocked again. Nothing.

Remembering what she had read about the other Gaoler in the clan census, she began to feel very uneasy and unsure of what might be inside. She had heard certain rumors about him,
and none were good - in fact, she questioned why he of all was sent alone with her.

Anxiety won her hesitation over, and she opened his door to find no sign of him, but rather something else that was strange. "Now why would he have this...?" she wondered out loud, and approached a chest on the floor. Her curiosity only grew upon discovering it was unlocked. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she opened the chest to find something unexpected.

She picked up three photographs, the first of which being a group of Gaolers, wielding weapons that indicated they were Sentries. The girl assumed it was his old team, put the picture back in the chest, and examined the second one. Only a single dragon was in this one; a male Wildclaw.
Very purple, she thought. She had never seen him before.
When she went to return that picture, she noticed some writing scrawled on the back.







Confusion spread across her face when the final photograph showed a hatchling.
It seemed poorly, and almost looked a little like-

"What are you doing?"

She shrieked in surprise and quickly put the picture back, but it was quite obvious from his perspective that she had been snooping. At first, she expected him to yell or get angry, but...nothing.

"I-I...um...didn't mean to..." she stammered,
struggling to find a good excuse for the dragon who had just returned home.

"That was...probably my son, you saw." His already low voice was deeper than ever, and heavy with pain. It took a moment for her to realize why. There was no record of him having any children on the clan census, and was never seen with any other hatchling...

"I...didn't know you have-"

"Had. He's dead...killed."

She felt horrifyingly sick.

"And...that Wildclaw...?"

"Alive."

"Is he your...?"

The nameless Gaoler couldn't find words as she was asked to leave. His door closed shut behind her. Shakily, she entered her own building, curled up on the floor, and tried and failed again to sleep.
If she listened too closely, she'd start believing she heard some kind of crunching and snapping,
but she didn't dare investigate...perhaps it was best to mind her own business.