Ryujin

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Exile, wanderer, warrior. Ryujin roams Sornieth accompanied only by his faithful blade, forever searching for his long-lost home. His fierce demeanor hides the deep weariness of one as old as dragonkind. Though he was once feared in battle, stories of his feats have faded into legend. Now, he unsheathes his sword only in the most dire of situations.

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ORIGINS

There was a time when enemies cowered before Ryujin’s blade. In those days, he was like a force of fate, raging into battle with all the inevitability of death itself. He collected friends and burned bridges, accumulated enemies and scars.

Now, that time is long gone. When asked, Ryujin often cannot remember why he first took up the sword. He took little pride in the violence; it brought him neither honor nor peace. It did not make his life easier. It did not make his soul more pure. It simply was. He seemed like a creature destined only for war.

He fought because war called to him. Having few skills and even fewer opportunities, war was a means to an end. It was how he earned his living, meager though it sometimes was. Armies sought him for his natural talents and, eventually, his fame. Dragons praised and cursed his name on the battlefield. His was venerated, he was feared, but nothing brought satisfaction to his soul.

In time, even he tired of battle. The weight in his heart grew heavier with each swing of his sword. He knew, one day, that the time had come. He sheathed his blade. The battlefield was his home no more.

Eventually, his glory began to fade. The dust of history buried his name and deeds. People no longer recognized him. Enemies no longer feared him. Yet, though other mortal minds began to forget, his own never could. The memories of his violent past tormented him, reminding him of the blood beneath his claws.

Only one thing kept him going. A vague recollection, more of an impression, of a home before war - a place from a long-forgotten childhood. He no longer remembered what took him away, but he longed to see it again. That cherished childhood home might finally bring him peace, show him how to live without bloodshed. Help him retain what innocence he had left.

He wandered, following what little details remained in his faded memories. He knew in his heart that when he looked upon it again, it would be familiar. Some part of him would recognize the scent and the feel. It was home. He would know. He would not fail in this endeavor.

His search is long and perilous. Sometimes he goes hungry. Sometimes he must fight - to defend himself or an innocent. Though he fights with sheathed sword, his heart breaks with each victory. Still he clings to his last, greatest hope. Home - to rest, free of the bloodshed and violence.

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VISIONS - Disillusionist (#254672)

Most travelers in the Shifting Expanse would have been happy to see the town, after days of trekking through the desert. Ryujin, however, felt nothing but disappointment.

He had been traveling for weeks, searching for an oracle said to dwell in the desert. He’d hoped she would be able to provide the answers he’d long sought: a map to his home, a description, a name.

But as near as he could tell, there was nothing out here but parched air and endless dunes of blindingly white sand. Deep inside him, a cynical voice whispered, “It doesn’t matter if there ever was an oracle or not; nobody can help you. You might as well move on....”

The oracle was not the first person whose help Ryujin had sought. In his travels, he had met many other dragons: merchants, mapmakers, mercenaries, magicians. Most had shaken their heads, though a few had offered tentative suggestions. He’d visited those various locations, hoping one of them would align with the memories in his mind. None of them had.

He refused to believe, however, that he’d never find his home again. He had been searching for years now. He could afford to search a while longer.

As he headed towards the town, he heard the thump of heavy feet behind him. A sled drawn by a pair of rockback chargers, their feet hitting the sand in synchronized stomps, drew alongside him. The beasts completely dwarfed the teamster, a Fae with a broad-brimmed hat.

“Greetings, traveler. Heading to town?” the Fae asked as the sled came to a halt. Ryujin nodded back.

“I’m headed there myself. Climb aboard if you want a ride. Don’t worry about the chargers, they don’t bite.”

“My thanks,” Ryujin murmured. He stepped lightly around the chargers, who snorted but otherwise ignored him. Once he was settled next to the Fae, she gave the chargers a light tap, and they set off.

~ ~ ~

The Fae’s name was Fidelma, a traveling merchant. As the chargers trundled along, she turned towards her temporary companion. “You don’t seem like a merchant. You a bounty hunter, perhaps?” She nodded towards his sheathed sword.

“Not at all,” Ryujin said with a faint smile. “In my youth, I was a warrior. I fought in several battles...” He couldn’t help it; his face darkened. “That was a very long time ago. I have very little use for my weapon now.”

“Ah.” With calculated cheeriness, Fidelma remarked, “Hope you still know how to use it. Who knows what beasties are about? Take Taiki and Joji here, for example. They were right wild ones when I first saw them!"

Contrary to her words, the two chargers obediently plodded onwards. Beautiful patterns had been painted onto their hides, and each of them had an earring, a gold clip studded with a single bright crystal. Ryujin cast a skeptical gaze at his host. The little fae grinned, as if reading his thoughts. "But nevermind about that, what’re you doing out here, if I may ask?”

Ryujin sighed. He explained his fruitless search for the oracle—plus any number of dragons who’d claimed to be of help to him. Fidelma’s frills stiffened in disdain.

“Oracles,” she snorted. “Charlatans, you mean. I think someone played a cruel joke on you, friend. Here in the Shifting Expanse, we’re all about science! Err, you don’t remember this village of yours at all?”

Ryujin hesitated. He’d described his village to well-meaning dragons many times before; it always hurt to realize that his efforts had been for naught. But perhaps this time...

He cleared his throat. And then he spoke of tall, dark trees wreathed in mist, of lanterns glowing in the twilight. The domed shapes of the huts, curtains drifting in the breeze. Some dragons would be cooking fish soup; others would be sweeping leaves off the streets...

“Oh,” Fidelma said with a faint catch in her voice, “that’s just beautiful. And it is something! Look, I know someone who’s an expert at mind magic; that’s how I got Taiki and Joji here.” Fidelma waved at her chargers.

“His name’s Ezra. He could probably enhance that memory, maybe even help you recover more. He basically hypnotizes you...Oh, it's not like that!” Fidelma hastily exclaimed, frills drooping. “It's probably better if you let him explain. Er, you still wanna head over there?”

Ryujin hesitated before nodding. It wouldn’t hurt to at least hear more about the process. If anything about Ezra and the town made him suspicious, he could just leave.

~ ~ ~

Fidelma’s town was nestled at the edge of the Shifting Expanse. Dragons bustled about on business, many of them with familiars at their heels. A small flock of sparrowmice wheeled above Ryujin’s head.

“This Ezra, is he an official of the clan?”

“I guess he’s our mayor? I'm not really sure.” Fidelma’s fins drooped. “He took over after his son died. It was a while ago....He’s still got his clinic up, though, and I can drop you off there.”

Ryujin, truth be told, was leery of being hypnotized. He understood that it was a tool, something that could be used both for good and bad things— “Much like a sword, I suppose.”

The clinic, neatly put together from pale timber and stone, didn’t look much different from the other buildings. A wooden sign read: Ezra Cedarwood—Behavioral Thaumaturgist.

Fidelma knocked on the door and waited. After a few minutes of nothing, she glared at the door and banged it few more times. "Ezra! You've got a client!" She turned to Ryujin with a grimace. "Sorry, he's a bit old and deaf. You have to yell at him sometimes."

"Yes, I'm coming!" The door creaked open. Ezra was an aged Spiral, garbed in traditional healer’s clothing. His golden eyes were very bright, with odd swirling pupils. They didn't seem to affect the old spiral's sight despite their strange shape. Ryujin tried to study them without outright staring. “Perhaps it makes it easier for him to treat his patients?”

Ezra bustled about, arranging seats and papers. “Welcome, traveler! Please have a seat....Whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

"I am...was a warrior. Now I'm just a wanderer." Ryujin introduced himself, before disclosing his predicament. “I have not seen my home in many years. I was barely grown when I left, and never thought to return,” he sighed. "I was hoping you'd be able to enhance my old memories."

Ezra’s ears perked up. “Childhood memories! Indeed, a lot more sticks to our minds when we are younger.” He motioned to a curtained doorway. “Come into the clinic, Sir Ryujin, and I’ll show you what we have to work with.”

Ryujin had been in physicians’ clinics before. They always had official-looking papers framed on the walls, shelves of leather-bound tomes, and a desk. Ezra’s clinic had all these things, but they were eclipsed by the setup in the center of the room.

There was a large, padded divan for dragons of Ryujin’s size, and over that, attached to the ceiling by a mechanical arm, was an orb. One half of it was like the night sky, black faintly flecked with silver. The other half was as clear as water.

The two hemispheres were joined by a ring of golden metal, to which the arm was attached. It looked as though the whole thing could be easily adjusted. Ryujin stepped closer in curiosity, and he saw arcane symbols scored into the golden ring.

“A di-orbital scrying lens,” Ezra explained. “I had this tool made specially for myself. It helps enhance my magic, ensures spells last longer.”

“Are there any rituals involved?”

“Not at all. The patient simply lies down here—we have outdoor facilities for larger breeds—and the lens is positioned over their eyes. This half—” He tapped the black hemisphere. “—is a modified scrying crystal. I focus my magic on the clear crystal on the other side, helping relax the patient’s mind and draw out their memories so that those are projected onto the scrying crystal. The patient is the only one who sees the vision. If necessary, I can use pre-approved keywords and descriptions to jog their memories,” he shrugged, “but I think that hardly qualifies as a ritual.”

Ryujin had to admit it didn’t sound much like hypnotism either. More like assisted scrying. “Is the patient usually asleep?”

“No, they never are. They wouldn’t be able to concentrate otherwise.” Ezra gave him an understanding look. “I know it isn’t a very common treatment. If you have further questions, feel free to ask.”

“Forgive me if this sounds too forward, but what is your rate?”

Ezra quoted a price. Ryujin had to admit it was somewhat steep, but he weighed it against the years, the hardship, he had spent searching for his home. If this thaumaturgist could help him find it again, it would be worth it....

“Need more time to think about it?” Ezra asked. Ryujin nodded slowly.

“Yes, of course, that’s understandable. When you decide, you know where to find me.”

~ ~ ~

Ryujin took lodgings at the town’s inn. He had by now decided that any money he had was best put toward attaining his goal, but he remained concerned about the possibility of his mind being somehow invaded. Ezra seemed to be nothing less than a brisk, businesslike thaumaturgist, but he was still a stranger.

Ryujin found himself doodling on a parchment pad on the desk: domed huts, small windows, a pathway winding through towering pine trees...

A shout snapped him out of his reverie. He looked up, expecting trouble, but saw only a family of Skydancers fluttering past. An umbra wolf pranced around them, jumping up to lick the hatchlings’ faces. They screamed in mock terror, then giggled as it snuggled against them.

“I had that too, once. A family, playmates...a home.”

Lanterns started to come on, lighting up the town in blue and gold. If Ryujin squinted, he could almost pretend...

“Perhaps it won’t be so bad. But then again...” He managed a self-mocking smirk. “I’ve done worse things before. Far worse things...”

And, indeed, how far they had taken him, so far away he could no longer even return on his own.

Ryujin let out a sigh. He bent over the desk again and, with more focus this time, he continued working on the sketch, sharpening the details of the fleeting memories he had.

~ ~ ~

When Ryujin reappeared at the clinic some days later, Ezra seemed surprised. “Welcome back...Ryujin, is it? How can I help—wait, I remember. Your childhood home. A village...”

Ryujin nodded. He unrolled the drawing he’d made at the inn: the huts, the pine trees, the lanterns shining in the windows. Old Ezra’s eyes softened. “It’s a very pretty drawing. You can hold it during the session, if you’d like....Erm, do you really need to bring that with you, though?”

He pointed at the Wildclaw’s sword. Ryujin hadn’t even noticed himself carrying it; he'd had it for so long that it was like an extra limb. He had always taken it into uncertain territory and situations, a comfort despite its previous uses.

Before he could answer, Ezra shook his head and pushed open the clinic door. “Never mind, if it makes you feel better, you can take it with you. Just keep it sheathed, please.”

Inside the clinic, Ryujin perched on the divan as Ezra maneuvered the scrying lens into place. "Is there any more information you recall?"

Ryujin shook his head as he reclined. There was depressingly little outside of what he'd already divulged. Ezra bustled about, turning the dark side of the orb towards his patient. He then rattled off a disclaimer, as well as a brief summary of the process, before asking “All right, are we ready?”

The Wildclaw nodded, and the Spiral snapped his claws. Blinds dropped down over the clinic windows. In the dimness, Ryujin saw that the ceiling was decorated with dabs of luminous paint. They seemed to pulse hypnotically, and from behind the crystal came a soft golden radiance: Ezra’s eyes were glowing.

“It is early morning,” he began softly. His voice had dropped to a near-whisper. “You are walking through a forest of pine trees. You feel the fallen needles on the ground beneath your feet...”

The golden radiance dimmed, becoming softer, more silvery. Almost like mist. Ryujin didn’t really notice. He was focused on the scrying lens: shapes moved within it, solidifying into suggestions of pine trees and a strip of silvery sky....

“The mist clings to your scales. It is cold, quiet—so quiet that when the sound of your footfalls changes, you notice it straightaway.” A faint note of excitement entered Ezra’s voice. “You’ve found it at last: the pathway to your home. Your talons click upon the stones as you follow it through the trees. And now you can see it: the shapes of the huts and—”

Lanterns. Ryujin allowed himself to slip into the vision as the silvery light gathered around him. Or rather, it wasn’t light now, but mist. The scrying crystal had vanished, and he saw only the huts, the trees....

His talons clicked upon the pathway as he continued towards his longed-for village. He saw the lights in the windows...and then the nearest one winked out. Puzzled, Ryujin paused. The lantern in the next hut went dark, and then the other. Then the other...

Now he was running. He darted through the grass and then stood, trembling slightly, among the mist-shrouded huts. All the lanterns were dark now, and by what feeble light remained, Ryujin saw how dilapidated the huts were, doors hanging askew and holes rotting in the roofs.

There was no one here. Not a sound. The place was as empty and lifeless as...

(“There are dragons there, your fellow villagers. Surely you remember their faces and names! One of them approaches you. Why don’t you ask them for the name of your village, Ryujin?

“...Ryujin?”)

A faint shape, pale and wispy, huddled among the huts. Ryujin ran to speak with them—and he recoiled in horror from the dragon’s pitted skin, her cadaverous face. Her eyes were empty holes in a bleached white skull.

(“Ryujin, remember the name of your village. You must remember this...”)

“What happened here?” Ryujin blurted out. (And somewhere in the distance, he heard a voice muttering, “This isn’t right. That’s not the scenario we agreed upon—”)

The specter’s mouth was moving, but Ryujin coudn't hear any words. Just whispering, whispering...He bent closer to hear better, but the dragon melted away, her pale form becoming one with the mist.

And yet the whispering continued.

(“Ryujin, can you hear me? It’s...

“Wait, no, please drop that sword—”)

It wasn’t whispering, Ryujin realized with a thrill of horror, but hissing—the sound of scales scraping against the cobblestones.

A vast form rose above the huts, threatening to blot out the sky: a serpent, as vast and dark as night itself. Its monstrous jaws swung open, and within them, he saw only oblivion.

“The serpent,” he heard voices whispering from the dark. “Slay the serpent...!”

It had devoured his village; this abomination must be slain! Ryujin let out a bellow of absolute grief, and he tore forward. Suddenly his sword was in his grasp—

“Ryujin! Wait!”

The crash of metal against metal. Glass falling to the floor. Light streamed into the room again, and Ryujin whipped around, his eyes wild.

It all came flooding back: the clinic, Ezra, and the scrying lens. But now the lens lay in pieces of glass and metal at Ryujin’s feet; he’d apparently destroyed it with his sword. Ezra was curled up in the corner, eyes wide with terror.

Immediately, remorse crashed upon the Wildclaw. “Ezra, I...I didn’t mean to...!”

“Y-you’ve ruined it! The spell...It’s breaking!” Ezra groaned. Ryujin didn’t understand what he meant—not right away.

He suddenly became aware of a rumbling noise. The books rattled in their shelves, and the walls and floor shuddered. Something was approaching at a dead run—something big.

“Get out of the way!” He grabbed Ezra, pulled him to the side—just as an enormous beast burst through the wall. A single horn, rocky skin, beautiful patterns painted upon its hide...Even as Ryujin registered these details, something shiny flew from the creature and clattered upon the floor. He recognized that golden earring—and as he watched, slowly understanding, the crystal upon it flickered and then went dark.

~ ~ ~

“This tool helps enhance my magic. It ensures spells last longer...”

“Ezra!” Ryujin saw the Fae flying past the clinic. She followed him inside, helped him lift Ezra onto a chair. “What’s happening?!” she gasped. “All our familiars have gone stir-crazy!”

Ezra was trembling. He still clutched some pieces of his lens, and he held them out helplessly. “The spell’s broken, it’s all gone! I can’t fix it...I don’t know how...!”

“Did you do this?” Fidelma shot Ryujin an accusing glare.

Before he could answer, they heard a shriek from nearby. It sounded like a bird—and it was followed by a frightened scream from another dragon.

He met Fidelma’s gaze squarely and said, “I’m not entirely sure what is happening here, but we’d best aid your clanmates.”

“Ah...right!”

They left Ezra curled up in his chair. As Ryujin strode out, an enraged barkback boar ran past, after a young Skydancer. Before he could leap to the child’s aid, a snarling umbra wolf interposed itself between the Skydancer and the boar. The boar turned and fled. The Skydancer grabbed the wolf and hurried with it into a house, slamming the door behind them.

“There are still loyal familiars, at least. But how to distinguish...?” A flash caught Ryujin’s attention, and he saw that the barkback boar had a golden earring. He watched it speed down the road—and out the town’s gates.

“Fidelma! Is there someplace we can herd these familiars? A corral, maybe?”

“We’ve never needed one!” Fidelma groaned. Ryujin had guessed as much—he’d spent the last few days exploring the town, and he hadn’t seen anything similarly useful either.

He pointed to the gates instead. “Then we’ll have to chase them out before they cause too much damage.”

“Right! Only...you won’t hurt them, will you?”

“No,” he stated firmly. “Of course not.”

Fidelma nodded, and they set off across the rooftops. As Ryujin had noticed, most of the familiars, once their initial rage and confusion passed, were more concerned with getting away. The town gates remained wide open, and it was a simple matter to shepherd the creatures where they needed to go. He dropped in front of them, roaring and posturing threateningly. His blade, however, remained firmly sheathed, and he used it only to block the familiars’ paths or attacks. Once they realized he wouldn’t back down, they turned and ran, quickly finding their way back into the wild.

Soon the town was a lot quieter. Dragons were cautiously poking their heads out of their homes to see if all was safe. Ryujin wasn’t entirely sure that it was. He saw Fidelma perched atop the inn near Ezra’s clinic, and he joined her there.

“Your rockback chargers, did they leave?”

“Yes, I chased Taiki out earlier. I—” And then she screamed in helpless terror. Ryujin turned to look.

The other charger burst out from behind a stone wall. It charged towards Ezra, who had stumbled out of the clinic. The old Spiral gasped and tried to back away. He tripped over his long tail. And Ryujin, at last, unsheathed his blade.

CLANG!

He hurled it into the sand, where it quivered, standing defiantly upright between Ezra and the charger. Joji came to a startled halt, his tiny eyes blinking furiously.

The interruption had jolted him out of his rage, and he seemed to reconsider his intentions. He snorted loudly and then thundered away, through the town gates and beyond.

~ ~ ~

All was quiet now, and dragons were cautiously exiting their homes. Ryujin glided down to help Ezra to his feet.

The Spiral glared up at him. In a low, tight voice, he growled, “You should leave.”

The words stung. Ryujin could understand the old drake’s rage, but it had been an accident; he hadn’t known...

Still, he turned away. He headed to the inn to retrieve his belongings.

The inn had sustained some damage, and after making sure that the staff and the other guests were all right, he began sifting through the rubble for his things. Fidelma arrived to help him. She muttered, “It’s best that you leave quickly. No one else has figured out that you destroyed the lens, but all the same...Ryujin, I am so sorry. What happened was—”

“Unfortunate,” Ryujin admitted. He gave the Fae a calm, steady look. “Do not fret, Miss Fidelma. I’ve been through worse. I am glad that no one was hurt, and that this town didn’t sustain much damage. Let’s focus on the positives instead.”

Faes didn’t normally smile, but this one made an effort. Ryujin appreciated it.

Soon he was ready to go. Fidelma escorted him back to the town gates. They weren’t really surprised to see Ezra waiting there. The three of them exchanged looks, and then Fidelma patted Ryujin’s arm and fluttered home.

Ezra fell into step alongside him. “Got all your things? That’s good,” he said gruffly.

“Yes, old one. Thank you for your concern.”

All was quiet for a moment, and then Ezra sighed, a sound filled with regret and grief. Neither of them broke stride, but Ryujin nonetheless listened carefully.

“It seemed like a good idea,” Ezra mumbled. “It was...My son established this clan. I asked him, ‘Why here?’ and he said he loved the desert, the creatures it held. It was one of them that killed him.” His face twisted into a bitter grimace.

“It was a hydra. Maybe someone had turned it loose out here....I suppose it doesn’t really matter. It fled from us, slithered back into the veldt....There was hope when we found it’d succumbed to its wounds; maybe those it’d swallowed were still alive. But none...none of them were.”

Ryujin paused now, laid a steadying paw on the old Spiral’s foreleg. A vast shudder racked Ezra’s ropy body as he tried to control himself.

“Will you make another lens?” But judging by Ezra’s slumped posture, he knew what the answer would be.

“No. I...I don’t think Matteo would’ve liked that.” That was a new name. Matteo. It didn’t take much guesswork to figure out whom Ezra meant.

His gaze was sharper now. Clearer. “They were so angry,” he whispered, “but I guess I would’ve been, too.”

He was looking at the churned-up patterns in the sand. It took Ryujin a moment to realize that they were the footprints of the familiars that’d fled.

“I’m glad we didn’t hurt them.”

“So am I.” Ezra seemed mildly surprised. He straightened up, and now, at last, he could look Ryujin in the face again.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I hope you find your home again someday.”

Ryujin inclined his head in mute gratitude. The two dragons turned away from each other, and he set out towards the horizon again.

~ ~ ~

Ryujin soon reached a river. He followed it to the sea, but without much conscious thought. There was much else to think about: not just what’d happened, but what was to be done next. He had no leads...or perhaps he did.

The serpent. It remained burned in his mind, black against the ghostly mist. Deathly-sharp fangs, scales as dark as the night—

And all around it, around his village, the crushing weight of decay, of oblivion...

“The serpent...Perhaps asking about it will bring me closer to my goal.”

He heard a shout. He turned, half-expecting to see Fidelma and her sled again—but instead, there was a barge gliding down the river. The crew had spotted him, and one of them was waving invitingly.

“Ahoy, stranger! Need a ride?”

---

MEETINGS - Kedreeva


Deep in the center of the Viridian Labyrinth, claws tucked and sword sheathed, Ryujin rested. Even so, he kept alert. Some touted the Gladekeeper’s domain as a land of light and life. He knew better. In the thick of the forest, sunlight barely trickled through the leaves. Here, the shadows ruled almost as harshly as they did in the Tangled Wood.

He kept his wings open in preparation and laid his sword across his lap to clean. The soft rustle of the leaves above him told him that the forest was not impenetrable, to the right forces. The scent of damp earth showed him that the rain still reached this place. Life still flourished in the shadows.

“You’re far from home,” a voice hissed, echoing around the small clearing. Ryujin scanned his camp, but could not identify the source.

“Who goes?” he asked, claws tightening on his pommel. No other part of him moved, not until he could ensure that shifting would benefit him.

“Oh, no one in particular,” came the sweet voice again, this time from above. Ryujin tipped his head to look up into the canopy, as a shadow flickered through the foliage. He sniffed and caught the iconic scent of a spiral, an unmistakable remnant of their origins.

“Show yourself,” Ryujin demanded. “Or you will not like how I reveal you.”

A laugh like the chiming of bells, and the lithe creature dripped from the branches above to pool on the cool soil at the edge of the clearing. Her tattered wings - no longer capable of flight - splayed at her sides, and she fixed him with a scarred, sightless gaze. “Unfair for you to see me, when I cannot see you,” she hummed, drawing herself up to her full height.

Ryujin held himself still, claws gripping his sword. Waiting.

She bared her fangs - sharpened needles - and hissed. The only warning given before she was upon him.

He felt the first bite of claws on his flanks before he had even thrown himself to his feet. In such close quarters his sword had no use. He discarded it in favor of rolling onto the ground, twisting his long neck around to snap at her scarred form. She slipped away from him the way oil does water, leaving a trail of blood in her wake as she got between his wings. Too close to his spine. He lashed his tail up and when she curved to avoid the sting of it, he bit onto one of her wings and yanked her to his front.

When he felt the ghost of clawtips on his belly, he had to push and leap to avoid being gutted, casting her free of his grasp as he did so. She found her footing a few yards from him and swirled up into a defensive pose, but made no move to attack him again.

He snatched up his blade, determined to fight prepared this time. The attack never came. Instead, she lowered her head in submission, head quirked at an odd angle and an eerie smile curling at her lips.

“They spoke of you, Warrior,” she murmured, holding her pose with no sign of a threat. “The trees. They told me a warrior had entered the Gladekeeper’s domain, one unclaimed by the deities' squabbles.”

Ryujin lowered his blade. A proposition. He had faced countless such offers in the past. “My blade is my own.”

“Your death is not,” she demurred. Though her tone was calm, her wings flared a warning. “Our deaths belong to the gods. So should our lives.”

"Not mine." He gripped his sword tighter, but did not raise it. “I will not pledge my blade or my life or my death to anyone. Not anymore.”

That grin, a twisted facsimile of amusement, warped her lips once more. “For now.” Puzzled, he blinked, mouth open to question - but she was gone.

Around him, a breeze whispered through the trees. Ryujin wondered what they would say about him now.

---

HOME - Caelyn

Tall pines pointed heavenward, towering over the misty forest floor. A clear stream burbled between well-worn rocks. The forest seemed to grow more familiar with each step Ryujin took. The warrior realized that this was the place of his home, where he had hunted in his childhood. His village wouldn't be much further away. Anticipating rest and welcoming arms, he hurried forward.

Just past the forest, he saw it. There were the small huts with the thatched roofs, the rock gardens, the fish ponds. Even the stone lanterns were as he remembered them. He waited for the scent of fish soup to drift up from the communal fireplace.

But everything was wrong.

The stone lanterns were unlit. Fallen leaves lay on abandoned porches, and moss grew between warped floorboards. The ponds were choked and overgrown with lilypads. In rising confusion, he dashed from home to home, but found no one.

He called for old friends, but only his echo replied. His search grew increasingly desperate, until he spotted something sitting in the village square. The form of a dragon, small and pale, but not a shape he recognized. Wary, he approached.

He raised his voice to alert the stranger. “What happened here?”

As she turned to him, his steps faltered. Empty holes lay where her eyes should be. Her body was nothing but cold, rolling fog.

“The Serpent took everything,” she whispered, her voice the wind hissing through dry leaves. “At first, we prayed for our departed warrior to return. But no one came to help us. At the end, the last of us cursed his name.”

“Who was this warrior?” he asked, though his heart knew the answer.

The apparition did not reply. She merely turned her blind stare toward him, and he bowed his head in shame. He stood this way as her body faded into the evening mist, and the sunlight turned to shadows. Moonlight illuminated his still form.

Something moved gracelessly through the undergrowth. Dry scales rattled against earth and pebbles. At the sound, Ryujin finally stirred and lifted his head. If any had been present to see it, they would have said his eyes lit like twin flares.

The Serpent's body stretched forever, a gray-black giant in the night. It slithered toward him and bared fangs as thick as tree trunks. Each fang glistened with venom that burned smoking holes in the ground.

Ryujin unsheathed his sword as the Serpent approached. With one stroke, he buried it deep in the monster’s gullet. The Serpent hissed and writhed as the mist steamed off its body. Ryujin barely glanced at the dying Serpent. Any joy he once would have felt from vanquishing his enemy was long gone. With the empty village, the last embers of his hope had faded.

He turned towards the exit. The village gate loomed as he approached, until he stopped at the threshold. Some unidentifiable emotion twisted in his chest, preventing him from taking that last step to the outside world.

His village was gone. There was nothing left for him. No reason to stay.

He had abandoned the village once. He could not abandon it again.

He turned back.

---

Legends say that Ryujin still lives in the abandoned village - gently sweeping dead leaves away, pruning the hedges, lighting the stone lanterns. He keeps the village habitable, but no one knows his true motivation. A guilt-ridden sense of duty? Or a faint, fragile hope?

---

Epilogue: COMPASSION - olliek

It had been years since Ryujin had turned back at that threshold, and he had spent that time restoring his village. He dreamed of a day that dragons he knew growing up would return to this village, his home, and wish to resettle.

He had put down the sword upon making his home here again, not wishing to return to his old warrior ways. Instead, he focused on sweeping out abandoned houses, cleaning out stores, and making sure that any part of the town wasn’t overrun by the plants and bushes that threatened it from all sides.

He often dreamed of seeing his family again, knowing it was his fault that he never would. To stave off the guilt, he tended the gardens until they were bursting with hyacinths - his mother's favorite flowers. He filled the ponds with bass and eels, his brother's favorite festival food. He made sure to sweep and scrub each hearth, to the faded memory of his father's exacting demands.

This peace was maintained in this calm, abandoned village, for months, and then for years. Ryujin hardly interacted with outside dragons. He would observe the ones that appeared on the outskirts, but he never spoke to them, and they never came closer.

For the longest time, nothing changed.


Ryujin had been working hard on pulling weeds from a small area of cobblestone that had been nearly overrun by plants poking up between smooth, grey rocks. As he pulled an especially difficult weed out from the ground, a sudden noise prickled the edge of his hearing.

It was only a soft rustling noise in the bushes behind him, but his warrior instincts sent him high alert. He just barely managed to catch sight of a slim, blue dragon’s tail disappearing into one of the nearest houses.

He stared, stunned, before leaping up to fly after them. As he approached the house, he spotted the end of the dragon disappearing around a corner yet again, this time to the upper level of the home. He followed, intent on discovering the identity of this...stranger? visitor?

As he slowly approached the doorway, he observed his uninvited guest. It (he?) was a slight, but fully grown spiral, curled tightly, ready to lunge. His blue scales, crossed with scars, glinted faintly in the sunlight.

Ryujin held his claws up, stepping back. He tried, to the best of his knowledge, to make his posture seem friendly. It was difficult - he couldn't remember the last time he'd met someone not a stranger or an enemy.

“I-" he cleared his throat, his voice raspy from disuse. "I'm not here to fight you,” he whispered.

The spiral was shaking just slightly, still poised to attack. As Ryujin edged around to room, the spiral started to lunge, only to stop as a quiet hiss sounded behind him. A small head peeked over the spiral’s tail. Ryujin gasped, the details falling in place. The spiral must have been sheltering this child from the freezing nights in this house.

For a brief moment, Ryujin felt rush of anger. This was his village, his home! How could this stranger settle here without asking for his permission?

He shook the feeling out of his head. His home - no, this village - was empty, now. The spiral probably hadn't even known that anyone still lived here.

The child - a mirror? - finally spotted the strange, imposing Wildclaw and immediately cowered beneath the spiral. Ryujin lowered his claws and sank down, trying to appear small and harmless. In the spiral, he envisioned the shadow of the old village's herbalist, who had lost a child to the bitter cold of winter, and rescued another from the same.

“This is my village. These are my houses,” he murmured, keeping his voice soft. “The village under my protection. If you stay, I will offer the same to you and yours.”

The spiral slowly uncoiled, though his gaze remained wary. He peered at Ryujin, trying to detect the barest hint of falsehood in the promise made. As Ryujin stared back, pouring the truth of his words through his eyes alone, the spiral nodded, slow and cautious.

Ryujin nodded back. This was the step he needed to make, to cleanse his soul of the blood he'd shed, and to see his village flourish again.

---

Edited by:
Chocoli


got for 2kg as RB with Vip/Shim/Glim how even?????