Chapter Text

“ACHOO!”

Falling, green and fog and black and falling.

I land on something cold.

Usually someone’s eighteenth birthday is filled with a wrong sense of freedom and an unhealthy amount of alcohol. Suffice to say neither happened with me. Instead, my best friend took it upon herself to find the best matchmaker in London and drag my soulmate-less self at the asscrack of dawn. Well, it was more like eight in the morning, but it still felt like the asscrack of dawn to me.

“Come on!” she said. “It’s just a reading! You’ll be fine.”

No, it was not fine. I was practically dragged to my table the moment we reached that hole-in-the-wall shop. The owner, a rude redhead lady with weird eyes, unceremoniously dumped me on a chair and expressly told me not to interrupt her at any point in the session. She didn’t give me a chance to speak, so I couldn’t warn her that the incense she was burning on the table was attacking my nose, leading to an impressively thunderous sneeze. Whose fault was it that I’m now face down on what feels like a snowbank in the middle of butt-friggin summer?

Let’s find your soulmate, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Fuck that shit. Fuck it in the ass with a cactus. Maybe it’ll survive the cold with the scalding heat of my rage. Then again with my luck, I’d be the first person to kill a cactus from too much heat. And those suckers live in deserts. In the end, none can withstand my petty, fiery fury.

Yeah. I feel like the butt end of a joke: “What happens to the Asian lady if she sneezes in a séance?”

I’ve just about left everything familiar at the archipelago looking for a chance to get my soul-mark. After all, why would I stay in a country that was stuck in the dark ages regarding the whole ‘only those with soul-marks have souls’ mindset? That’s why I left and lived in London for five years. Because why the fuck not, right?

I kind of felt like screaming, but the cold biting into your bones sort of stops you from doing dumb things. Stupid snow. I breathe the sharp, frigid air and try to get my head to stop ringing and find out what hurt. Or, more accurately, what didn’t hurt. I feel like a human bruise at the moment. There’s a sharp, blinding pain in my ankle but at least my foot seems to be on right. In other words, not dead. That’s good. It’s a step up, all things considered. Sitting up, I’m momentarily blinded by the amount of white and the nagging feeling like something was off.

You know, that same kind of feeling you get when you’ve left for work and you’re pulling out of your driveway. You’ve double-checked everything but you know, you just know, you’ve forgotten something and it’s unnerving. Yeah. It’s like that kind of feeling times a thousand. My dinner tries to make a reappearance but that my be the concussion talking. Maybe I’d be lucky and find a town with a hospital.

A howl breaks through the air.

“Fuck.”

I get to my feet (Ow ow ow) and looked around. I’m in some kind of clearing, with a fence of pine trees framing the expanse.

I pick a direction and start hoofing it – as well as person with a concussion could anyhow.

---------------------------

Three days.

Three days stuck out here with no one in sight. The wolves that made me move never showed up but sometimes the howls get too close and I get up and go running the opposite way. At least I know what that nagging feeling was – I’m not on Earth. That was apparent on the first night when I saw the two bloody moons in the sky, leading to a mental breakdown that didn’t go away till the next dawn. Oh, and then there was that weird naked mole rat, no, rabbit, rodent? Thing I stumbled on. It was like somebody had waxed a chupacabra and gave it monkey feet and rabbit ears. It was great nightmare fuel if anything.

If I wasn’t feeling like week-old trash, I’d laugh. But three days of no food and barely any water does that to you. I couldn’t start a fire with everything around me soaked. I lived in a tropical country, and only knew the hell of winter was when I moved to Manchester. It was the coldest fucking place I’d ever been in but even then there was never a need to figure out shit like how to survive in the arctic. I bet Alaskans would feel right at home here.

No food, no fire, and no sleep. I couldn’t feel anything. It wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be. There was snow, frigid and sharp, but the cold was bearable during the day. Maybe it’s because of something science-y, like my body density and heat tolerance is better. Maybe the world is smaller and doesn’t need much to cool whole regions – who the fuck knows.

At least it’s only now that the fear of hypothermia and frostbite is starting to peak.

Three days of no sleep, no food, and no fire. There’s a break in the woods. I can make out something glowing beyond the shadows of the trees.

I cry for help, but the sound is soft and dies in the chilling winds. I keep moving. At least my swollen ankle got three days of cold compression. At least my best friend could deck the fucking rude witch she brought me to.

At least I’m not being eaten by wolves.

At least I’m not dead yet.

At least I tried.

Chapter Text

Everything got darker. there was no cold, no howl, nothing but quiet.

This is it. I gave it my best shot, at least. 

What I wouldn't give to go back home for one more moment. To lounging at the couch with my cat, playing video games and trying to finish manuscripts before my demon of an editor comes in and picks it up next week.

I was so close to finishing that Viking story too. months of research and digging down the drain. Why was it so hard to pick a general genre of story to make anyway ? I've done historical romance set at world wars, pre-Christianization, heck even sci-fi. Made like Tolkien and grafted a mythos before even starting a word of my magnum opus. I guess the world will never know the shenanigans of Falkeen the Thieving and His band of misfits. God I hadn't even thought of a title for it yet! Something cool maybe like...

'The Scales' for their dragon armor uniform and acts of bringing justice. 

Oh! its sort of on the nose though...eh, I'll workshop it.

'workshop it? You'll die soon, why bother?' 

well way to put the fun out of it,

But the voice in my head was right. I will die alone, like everyone said. No soul mark to guide me to my other half, no red string of fate to tug bring me into the next life.

'Here lies Lyka Victoria Lorenzo - stranded in a different planet, forever alone' 

Don't you main protagonist me. I am a writer, I am God among men! -

'I am god? do you say that to all the muggings in alleyways back home?'

No, but I recall that one time I got shanked and said- 

'thanks’ HA ! classic'

I still think that was the shock talking. My social ineptitude never fails in the best of times. I would suppose its common, being socially awkward. Spirits knows how I was able to get a friend that cared- though in hindsight she brought me to a match maker that catapulted me to a different planet for my 18th birthday so maybe she was just like everyone else. Eager to get rid of the walking insult to the spirits.

'Oh shit is that a white walker, Ha! your fucked' 

What?

Through the haze of dark and numb, there was a white washed figure. Wispy around the edges, it grew larger until it was towering over me. A deep rumbling voice washed over me, but all I heard was gibberish. some weird grumbling I couldn’t parse. “Yes, yes, konichiwa, no habla ingles”. I rasp but the words get caught in my throat and I‘m left hacking in the snow. The violent shudders finally taking what little strength I have left.

I tried to move, to twitch -anything . But I was so tired, so very done with the world. Done with the degradation and harassment and branded as soulless, done with having to cover up my arms just to survive day by day. I mean I won't regret sinking money on the Dragon Age inspired arm wrappings, these shits were dope. But man, fuck racism - Its worse when your brown, Asian and soulless.

I didn't notice the towering man's - because if that was a woman then god damn- figure glow and a much gentler voice echo something back in gibberish.

lucid with thoughts about the injustice of it all, and the deep settling exhaustion. I didn't feel the sway as he lifts me like a sack. Only numb, and sleep.

I was asleep but so awake. The world around me felt like I was back home. Not London with its old streets and bright shops, the pretty lamp posts and romantic air- no. I felt like I was back home in the nipa hut my Lolo made when he retired from sea fairing. Like at any moment, Obasan would peek behind the mango tree in the garden. Her hair tucked into her large brimmed straw hat and her over-all’s muddy from a day in the farm.

I could almost trace the delicate nautical marks, along her arm, framed with the first few carvings my grandfather ever did. The life of my Lolo so shown, his love of the sea, his wood craft and faith.

The image so picturesque and clear that it was almost hard to look at as it twisted, the sunny sky darkening as my sleeveless dress showed clean skin and shame. I see Obasan flinch away as I try to take the basket of picked fruits from her.

Shame, like I was naked for all to see, I turned from the perfect image. I shouldn't be here, marring this place of love and peace. I thought of something else- anything else.

I thought of stories without soul marks, of different races- long-lived elves in Rivendell, of the stout and stubborn dwarves. of dragons and riders and pirates and-

And I was on a beach, with no one else on the coast. Alone, with the sun high in the sky, the gulls cawing above. And I saw the waves a little ways past, like an ocean heart beat, its rhythm dragged mine along with it. I wore the very first swimsuit I bought for myself, I could remember the back alley shop that catered to the fair-armed. I remember the unique designs and seeing people like me wander about, unafraid- I was thirteen. Unbidden, music started filling the air, and I stood there for some long moments. listening. It was my playlist- I realized, the very same one I played when I wanted to get away.

And it was then when I finally notice the surf board clutched against me.

Not of the shadows behind me, watching.

I ran to meet the waves. Feeling freer than I’ve ever been

I woke up to the smell of smoke and something savory in the air.

Maybe this is heaven...

I was in a Viking-esque looking cabin, with an open-hearth at the middle of the room and something good cooking. I sat up with a groan and immediately felt like jack hammers and a construction crew took residence in my skull. With squinted eyes I look around the quaint cabin. plant cuttings hung near the walls in various states of withered, jars and pots pile on one corner, some hung on wall hooks. there was a chest at the foot of the cot I laid in and a two-seater dining table pushed against the wall. Now all I need is some smoking hot Viking man with a body of a god, if I'm lucky he'd have a hood made of some animal, like a bear. 

There's a slamming of a door and a giant of a man walks in with a bundle of things. of what exactly I wouldn't know, too preoccupied with his goat skin cowl and full body paint.

Well damn. Thank you, god. Not what I had in mind but thanks. What about the three day long begging to go home ? No? A’ight. Ass. 

The cowl still had the goat skull. the body paint made him look like someone dipped him in white and went crazy with an over sized brush.

It was familiar ... I remember the Pocahontas movie, they had the same style with their clan hunters. for camouflage? was this man is a hunter, it isn't impossible I suppose.

There was a rumbling sound that brought me out of my reverie. " Frwsa gzpuh bqixof? Yngrov brwoj fski qud" or something like that, a bunch of gibberish to my brain.

My brain scrunched in confusion, as he drops the stuff on his arms on my lap and went about the small hut. Still 'talking' but the words fly over my head. "Wait please, I can't understand a word you're saying." I say, catching his attention.

He snaps his jaw shut, looking at me with piercing eyes. I've read enough stories to at least get an idea how to communicate. I lift my hand, pointing to my ears and shaking my head " I. Can’t. Under. Stand. You." He makes a hmm sound. That, I understand.

He walks towards me with a bowl of what looks like soup. He nudges it towards me like a caveman offering. I took it gratefully with one hand, the other going to my heart then laying it flat in the air before waving towards him in a sign of thanks. He nods in what I hope was understanding.

The soup smelled heavenly, and the heat was the perfect temperature, hot enough to slow me down, not that hot to melt my guts. Which, doesn't really sound all that good of a margin, now that I think about it. Not that it stopped me from chugging it like coke.

He put a hand on my covered arm and I couldn’t stop from jolting- soup dripping off the rim. A few drops of the stuff burning my fingers as he gently lowers my hands. It took a sec, but I realized he was just urging me to slow down.

I nodded, and he let go, eyes watching my every move as I sipped instead of gulping. He smiled then, and I was hit by how strange yet familiar the look was. Caring, and fatherly as he moved to tuck me in the furs, feeding the fire and going about the place.

At some point, he took the empty bowl from me and gave me a basin of warm water and a rough cloth. I paused, confused. “wha-” He chuffed then, taking back the basin and setting it aside. He asked for my arms in a gesture, and for a moment I didn't move.

Gently, he grasped my and pulled it close. His other hand going to the rag- wet with the warm water. And gentler still he scrubbed the grime from my little misadventure at arriving in this strange planet. I let him, somehow I could feel that this was as much for him as it was for me.

The touch was almost unbearable, but his hand never gripped too hard. Almost as though I could pull away at anytime. But I never did. As much as it hurt, it was a comfort I’ve never felt before. It was strange to me, how easily it was that he touched and held and cared for me. I knew that soulmates and soul marks weren't a universal thing. The soulmarks were as much biological as it was near mystical. Which means no matter how human looking this person was (giant height aside) I was an alien here. But that didn't change the fact that physical contact wasn't freely given. especially to me.

Being without a mark since I was ten meant that people started to believe I was soulless, and prejudice dictated that touching me was similar to contacting severe disease. But gestures went far beyond supplementing conversation, they became a language on its own. ‘worthless’ it’d say ‘dirty’ ‘wrong’ ‘demon’

And so it was, I sat on a strange bed, in a strange world, comforted by a strange man crying uncontrollably as my body finally felt a gentle touch of somebody that didn’t know what was wrong with me.

It was comforting, and he never made a sound as clung like a baby. Like I was eight again and this whole thing was a bad dream.

After he had reached whatever he could without outright stripping me, he left the bowl on a side table and pushed the rough rag into my hands. I wanted to protest, but I knew that it would be insane of me to want this stranger to keep holding me. Which is weird but I know my fanfics, I’ve probably got the classic case of touch starvation.

‘Ah, poetic justice, you who always made your characters fucked up in the head is actually also very fucked up in the head!’

I do not have a fucked up head!

’Honey, if you aren’t then why am I here hm? Face it. You. Are. Craaazy~’

You are insufferable.

’Sure I am but what does that make you?’

I ignore the thought and start scrubbing my arm more aggressively. I look around and notice that the big viking man wasn’t inside. Cautiously, I unhook the arm guards I always wear. Once they were off I’m immediately reminded of how long I’ve been wearing them. The skin underneath is a stark pale against my light tan. Which I mean, isn’t out of place. I’ve been wearing these types of things since I was eight after all. Earth isn’t very friendly if you’ve got bare arms. People without soulmarks usually aren’t even considered people in the more extreme places. Third world countries usually. You’d walk outside with long sleeve and its guaranteed that you’d loose those sleeves from muggings in broad daylight, getting kicked out of restaurants then having to bare your arms for proof that you’re “legit”.

Yeah… not a fun place.

But the underground society of people like me was almost like another nation entirely. There was a sense of strong camaraderie. And also people who make cool shit like the arm guards. Its always stab/slash proof and can mimic a skin color or soulmark. Some group of people would even design soulmarks with their significant other in attempts to blend in. Life just wasn’t that great for the rest of us.

But my arm guards are precious to me. I spent nearly all my revenue from my Kofi’s and patreon’s (I write good things,ok.) on these custom things. They look exactly like fancy elvhen wrappings and these babies have the added bonus of being able to keep my bones from hurting too much if an asshole tries to break them. (which might have nearly happened once thus my paranoia)

I’ve been slowly wiping my forearms and staring into space before something caught my eye. There. Just below my wrist there was a bruise forming. Huh, did the seller scam me? I don’t recall hitting myself that hard but then again I was half out of it. I’d need some ice for it later.

I could hear the stomping foot falls of the man coming back and I quickly put my arm guards back on. I  scrubbed the back of my neck and a bit of my collar when he walked back in. I pretended to be lost in thought again, keeping him in the corner of my eye. I didn’t survive earth to just be done in here. Though he has been nothing but kind to me…

I’d wait it out and see if I need to run again.

It’s been a week.

Which means I’ve been in this planet for ten days. And I was nowhere near figuring out how I got here or how to get back, that is- if I wanted to go back. Already this world is kinder to me. Were I on earth, they’d take one look at my bare arm and leave me to die in a ditch. Here was different. Or maybe I’m just over generalizing. But I do know that it's just the bitterness from cynical thinking. I did have multiple mental breakdowns in just surviving the first three days. Each one bringing me farther and farther from fully comprehending anything 'til everything calmed down.

Which just meant that in the span of a week, poor Papa Bear had to comfort my sad battered psyche more times than he had to cook a meal. I still thank the gods for getting lucky. As it turned out, I stumbled just outside Papa bear’s cabin and he was kind enough to save my life.

Y’know- like usual Tuesdays.

And yes, I’ve taken to calling the Viking, Papa Bear. Everything in his home was stiff and gigantic, but his demeanor was adorable. Ever seen a grown man twice your size slouch and pout at soup ? ‘cuz he slouch and pouted at the soup when there wasn’t any basil-looking leaf to add to it. That was the first time I laughed, since coming here .

And in the following days he’s been keeping me in bed, fed and cared for. It was odd but every time I’d move to get up he’d get this disappointed/kicked puppy look in his eyes, I‘ve no idea how he manages it but the look alone made me feel bad enough to get back to bed on my own.

Speaking of, he’s taken to sleeping on this massive chair that was near bursting with fur, I managed to get him to take the bed pillow but he refused to take any of the blankets. I was positively drowning in them so I rolled a few up to replace the pillow I gave way. It was a lot more comfortable than the lumpy straw pillow. It only made me feel more guilty.

The surfing dreams continued too. Much to my enjoyment. I sometimes wake up feeling like I‘ve been surfing all day but the soreness in my arms always goes away. It was odd to see how much the dreams were affecting me in the real world though, my balance was better than it has ever been. Papa Bear almost had a heart attack seeing me balancing on a corner of a tilted chair trying to light the candles on the small candelabra.

Although, maybe it was ‘cuz of the real possibility of me burning the house down.

But amidst all the shenanigans, it was difficult to communicate with him, having to rely on pantomime and vague gestures hoping it meant the same thing to him as it did to me. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it was embarrassing. For example, I tried to tell him I needed to fix a tear in my shirt or at least if he had a needle and thread . He clearly misunderstood and the fiasco ended up with me vehemently shaking my head as he bodily carried me to a big basin in the snow that had red rocks heating the water in it. I had cried thinking he was cooking me for dinner.It would have been just my luck if Papa Bear ended up being a cannibal. It took a while for me to calm down from the terror.

He looked abashed and apologetic as he took me back inside and sat me down, patting my back and helping me calm down. He slouched and pouted after too when he found out that all I wanted was to fix my shirt.

He gave me a tunic and took my shirt then. I got it back a day later, he had fixed the rip and the line of stitches ended up being embroidered with feathers and flowers.

It was adorable.

I cried.

God fuckin’ bless Papa Bear. 

That had been two days ago. Now, a full week of me mooching of this wonderful person’s generosity, I feel a whole lot of disgusted and iffed out. I’ve never been one to take advantage of people. Not that there was anyone who was even kind to me on earth but I digress. Lorenzo’s were never known to leave debts unpaid and by God am I in huge debt to Papa Bear for saving my life.

So I’m working on a project. Papa bear had given me a small knife to use when he wasn’t around. Which at the moment he isn’t. There were days where he would leave in the morning after breakfast and return sometime during sundown. I have no friggin clue as to where he goes but I just assume it some version of this world’s nine to five job. And in the time in between I had managed to whittle myself a giant of a crochet hook, it sort of felt like holding a soup ladle, and started working on the bag of wool he had. Not much really. Just enough to make him a comfortable blanket. If it was cold I wouldn’t have known but with how much he bundles up some nights when the fire was left unattended, I figured a useful gift was better than a pretty one.

And yes, I was taking liberties, using his wool and what not. But at least it was something right? and its not like its going to waste, I‘ve barely made a dent in the damn sack of wool and already the blanket was one of the fluffiest things I’ve ever made. Obasan would have been proud.

I finish the final row to the large blanket, it was somewhere around an arm span wide and five foot and eight inches long. Which I know specifically because that was how tall I was. I had planned to keep it plain but the sky was still blue with no sign of setting anytime soon, so I embellished a little, adding a few tassels on the ends and giving one side of the blanket a hood.

“done! one thank you blanket for papa bear.”

It looks more like a snuggly.

“huh, now that you mention it...”

Your giving a grown man who brings around a maul the size of a comet - a snuggly.

I really had nothing to say to that really. But from what I know of Papa bear, he was a sweet guy. Rough around the edges but sweet and caring.

And dammit I spent two days on this so It’d be friggin dumb to unravel everything now! it has tassels- and a hood ! A HOOD ! if he doesn’t like it I can keep it, maybe sell it or something.

It didnt take long for Papa bear to come back, and by then I‘d just shoved it in his hands to be rid of it after he put down his great maul and travel pack. He looked down at it, confused. I rolled my eyes and took it back, showing him what it was. And when I gave it back he looked at me then at the snuggly then back at me. “for. you.” I said to him as I gestured my hands towards him. “thank.you” hand over my heart, then laid flat, palm up and waved towards him. I’ve done it enough times for him to know what it meant. But I laid by hand on top of the blanket and pushed it towards him.

I think he understood. He shook out the snuggly and did what I had done, lifting the hood over his head and draping the rest over his surly arms. I smiled. He looked at the material, then at the bag of wool in the corner of the same color.

I followed his gaze and felt sheepish. “err, I’ll pay you back for that... somehow” He said nothing. Only staring at the triple loop I’ve used to make the thing, plucking at it questioningly. I took that as my cue to explain how I did it. Something that didn’t happen often, but when it did, sometimes it was better to reenact the whole thing.

So I spent that night teaching a large Viking who could very well snap me in two with his pinky, how to crochet. And after his contented look he tucked me in. I realized something.

“Lyka” I say softly. sleepily

He turned to me confused. I raise my hand and rested it on my chest “Lyka...” and I gesture towards him.

a beat and then “Amund”

I nod. “Amund. Lyka thank you.”

“thhhaaanch ngiyoo” he tries. And its enough.

Chapter Text

Chapter III : WAY OF LIFE

Amund

The trip to Stormhold was a weary one, filled with many perils and heavy burdens. I had left to help the hold with its rotting disease that happened nearly seasonally with their eternal rain and heavy bogs.

In doing so, I had left behind my wife of ten years heavy with my first child, Flisee was a warrior with skill that rivaled only my own. Beautiful with her dark locks, rare amongst the fair color of the Avaar people.

I had only just finish my battle with the epidemic when I received word of her and my child's passing. I was distraught and grieving, instead of returning to the wyrmhold- to her- I wandered the paths between my safe houses that I once tended to before her, before I had known the joy of a warm home and a perfect battle partner. My thoughts spirals with each waking. I should have stayed wit her, I should have been there. I helped heal the wounded but I could not be there to save them... but-

Lyka.

The little one.

She looks so much like her. Dark hair like midnight, eyes sharp almonds that stared at everything like it was a puzzle to be solved. Much like Flisee's gaze is- was. She would only speak in a lyrical tongue, and with her odd behavior- indeed, she was strange. Yet she was also innocent. If not from how she touched everything as though she was afraid to be caught doing so, then from her tears that she cries at night when she believes I am asleep. She muffles her sobs well but I know grief- I am acquainted with its delights both distantly and intimately.

Lyka. It was a name I had not heard of and yet I could imagine myself naming a child, maybe mine, with it. A strong name that tastes of swiftness and strength. In the most oldest of tongues of my people it is strikingly similar to Lyacha - 'that who wanders into fortune'

The fortunate one.

The one that lives.

She is not of my blood but she is as much as mine as I am to her. I could not protect those most important to me- I will not fail again. This strange one had stumbled into my life just when it has lost its luster, I do not doubt the gift that she is. Perhaps it is time I face my failures...

And I swear it on the will of the Lady of the Sky that I would not fail again.

In the morning, I woke earlier than the past week and set about packing up all I had bought with me in my pilgrimage of grief. It was not a lot but it was enough to fill all the extra packs I had traded for from the near by village. When I was nearly finished I went to wake up the little one- Lyka. I had just been calling her Little One for the last few days that now that I knew her name, it felt odd to use it. She was little and the urge to hold her like a babe and maybe pet her soft hair never really quite went away. But her sharp gaze never fails to remind me of the scary intellect hidden behind words I could not understand. A searching gaze, one that seeks answers and questions and more answers.

She was a fussy waker, it would be well of me to remember where her feet are should I do so again (Had her aim been higher, I would never have kids). She was slow to waking and straightened at the sight of the now empty cabin. She looked to me searchingly but whatever dark thought that flitted through her mind did not linger as she once again had that sharpness to her gaze, a determination that could stare down dragons.

Breaking our fast was a quiet affair without her usual fumbling. I should prepare a smaller set of utensils sometime soon, polished ivory would serve well in the coming cold. Common wooden ones would not last her long.

I handed her the scraps I had painstakingly assembled into some sort of warm clothing for her. She was not used to the bulk, she waddled like a duck for a bit until I finally went about to fix things some more. Yes, I could have done so in the beginning but I couldn't help myself- she was cute as a nug. If a nug could glare daggers.

when we had tucked everything away back into the packs. I handed her the lighter one and we both ventured outside into the snow. I had walked a few paces when I realized she was lagging behind. Her eyes darted from me to the path beyond. It flickered briefly back to the cabin before she took a deep breath and shakily move forward. "Worry not little one, we are only going back to wyrmhold." I had drawn in the snow a little hut and a three tiered village and a path in between. I am not an artist, but I knew she would understand as I drew a large stick person (me) and a small stick person (her) on the path with an arrow pointing towards the village.

She smiled then, her first one of the day. I drew three suns over the drawn people to tell her that the trip would take three days. She took a few moments but I knew when she understood when that hard determination settled in her eyes again.

I will not lie, I had doubts that Little one could handle the rough pace I set to get to Wyrmhold on time. The trip would be kinder to many, I had us stop more than usual in case she couldn't handle the travel. I was wrong. Contrary to her soft hands and fair skin she did not act like a pompous princess, in fact she once even tried to scale a tree. It did not end well but the soft snowbank beneath saved her from any bruises she may have suffered from. She turned her sharp gaze to anything and everything that we come across. From my insistent stop earlier in the day to collect some elfroot, She made it her mission to harvest any that we come across. At one point she even found some Royal elfroot that she had looked at questioningly. I showed her how to harvest that plant specifically.

It took only til 2 past high peak for the small basket we've been keeping the herbs in to be filled enough that I contemplated on making some salve now instead of when we got to the hold.

Sadly there was no boulders nearby to use. But on the bright side- Little one found a fennec den with a hibernating litter of four and a terrified, hissing mother. I had wanted to have them for supper but the little one gave me this look. Eyes wide and sparkling, lip pouting and hands clasping like in prayer.

I hesitated.

She kept doing the look and stopped only when I put the hunting knife away. Hunting was dangerous in these parts with the large packs of wolves that roam. I did not think we could be able to hunt for our nightly meal. There was always the rations that I packed. It would not be a bother to use them but I'd prefer it if we could use it as less as possible. The mountain weather was fickle and had no mercy for the unprepared.

Just as the sun was cresting the peaks of the mountains on the west did we finally get to a place safe enough for camp. It was an old Avaaran camp nestled like a nook into a large rock formation. It would not keep the snow out but it was nothing a simple tarp couldn't fix. I went about to set up camp when the little one tugged my pack open and pulled out the coat she had made for me. It was a beautiful thing, not very tightly woven but still could keep me warm. And she even made a cowl into the large mess of the thing. Fuzzy, wide and useful. I was very grateful for it. I think even Flisee would be hard pressed not to have one made for herself.

Flisee, I have not thought of her in a while. I wonder what she would think of me if she saw me now. Wandering like a coward and weak from loss. 'What would you have done, you big oaf?' she would say 'leave an entire hold of people to die?'. Flisee was always the level headed one between us. Calm in the face of a blizzard, unchanging in the wake of time. I was always the fool when it came to her. Stumbling and stuttering like a green idiot.

Would she be proud of me? if she saw me now?

A hand on my arm woke me from my reminiscing. Little one- Lyka gestured in frustration to a pile of wet branches and the flint starter on her other hand.

Right, fire, camping. That's what we were doing...

Dinner was a simple stew that mostly tasted of hot water, salt and onions. I should have probably saved the bones from the fennec and nug from a few days before if only to add flavor to the food. I dread to think about the next night of bland food. Little Lyka didn't seem to have enjoyed the food though she finished the pot clean, each slurp accompanied by a scowling of her nose. Adorable.

At night I set for a trip wire by the entrance that would clatter pieces of hollow metal and stone loudly should something trigger it. With as much safety precaution I could do, I tuck in the little one against the stone wall and slept between her and the entrance.

The second day greeted me with a curled up bundle of fur and child against my chest and under my chin. I am, again, reminded of how tiny this child is. She could barely reach the middle of my chest, and was the smallest I'd seen of any human. Maybe she had a bit of dwarf in her, or be actually younger than I assume (two and ten summers). Never the less she was tiny and I could not help but to hold her just a little bit closer.

How can something so small and delicate even survive this wretched world ? I wondered.

Not alone. If I had never stumbled upon her she would be but another body in the many that Thedas has taken, no matter how innocent. But I did find her, and she did live and she will live for as long as she is able so long as I could help it.

She roused slowly with the sun, and when the morning fully came to be, I watched as she brought her hand to her face far too quickly as a small 'smack !' echoes softly that nearly made me miss her soft mumbled something (It's something vulgar, I just know it). Her hand rubs at the smarting cheek and curls over her eye, rubbing the sleep away. It's so Gods damned cute ! If every morning was to be like this then maybe I can start looking forward to dawn again.

With the rise of the morning came the decision to take a few things into my hands. Lyka needs to be able to take care of herself in this harsh world. I do not know if she has ever been hunting. I would expect not but yesterday alone taught me that there were many contradictions in this tiny child. So after breaking out nightly fast we both made quick work of packing up what we took out of the packs and started off again on the path towards wyrmhold.

It was nearly mid day when I spotted a wild druffalo herd in the west. We both slowed to a stop and I took count of the number of prey I could single out. Usually, wild druffalos can gore a grown man easily when provoked as such required at least three hunters to take down one grown male safely. But there were no three men around, just myself and what would amount to a chick ( Lyka ) against this thing. So the safest one would be an older druffalo, a straggler, hopefully. And there was one, a bit farter off from the rest, slow moving with white fur peppering the top of its furry head.

In one fluid motion I picked up the Little one by her waist and urged her up a tree where she could see me and I could keep an eye on her. I would not risk the old bull charging and pinning her against a tree. (her tiny frame impaled on a sharp horn, broken and guts spilling, tinting the pure snow red, no more puffs of small breath like tiny flurries in the cold, sharp eyes dull and lifeless- )

With a bit of angry wriggling she concedes when I drew my maul over my shoulder and threw a thumb at the bull. A huff and a glance later she sits still and quiet with only a shooing motion as I watched her for a few seconds more before turning and creeping up on the druffalo.

I had it down easily enough, years worth of training paired with the gigantic maul left the druffalo defeated but not dead yet. As I struggled to hold the big guy down and deal the killing blow, I immediately had an idea. I whistled at the little one and watched her scale down the tree and trudge over with all the packs (oops). When she was close enough I drew the large carving blade on the small of my back and handed it to her handle first, which she took quickly as the damn thing started bucking again.

She looked at the blade for a moment and then back at the druffalo. I watched as she hesitated and I resigned myself to somehow finding a way to kill it myself when she breathed in and moved forward. I doubled my efforts of holding it down and watched as she moved behind the downed druffalo, away from the legs that could kick her head clean off, hushing softly and muttering something in her lyrical tongue again as her hand caressed the beast side before plunging the knife straight to its heart. She kept her gentle muttering and petting as the big beast took its last breath.

Well, that answers the question of whether she can handle taking a life.

Still, she probably has never skinned anything before as he looked back at me with a 'what-now' face, a face I have gotten to know very closely in the last few days. I took the knife back from her and carried the kill back a few ways till a suitable spot came up. It didn't take too long. Not but a few yards away was my old rest stop between the cabin and the main village.

Once there I painstakingly taught Lyka the proper way to skin a kill, it went as you would expect when the only way we could communicate was through drawing on snow or shadowing the other's movement. But the mess was as minimal as you can get from a first time. There was something oddly cathartic in making something useful from an act of violence but that maybe just watching the tiny child gut an animal nearly two times her size from horn to tail tip. Or noticing the tip of her tongue peak out the corner of her mouth as she viciously use her body weight to break the whole carcass in two along the spine.

So... adorable .

"Lady of the skies, Mountain Father, all those who look fondly upon me, Thank you for gracing me with this sweet, sweet child. " I whispered.

She glanced up at me in my muttering, eyes wide in question, but I am rendered broken when she tilts her head just so and utters soft 'hm?'. The small splatters of blood just looks like freckles against her dark sun loved skin.

So tiny. So cute.

If this goes on, I must remember to punch wall 'til I feel like a hardened warrior again.

I smiled at her, and shook my head. "It's nothing pup, keep going" she pouted at the strange words and went back to finish dressing the carcass.

That night a hearty meal quickly disappeared between the both of us. For such a small thing she ate like two grown men, I often wonder where all that food goes... The night near the southern peak of thedas was special. For one, the stars here would always be brighter away from the city lights and fire. And for another, as deep as we were into the mountain range, the chorus of the wind was louder here. The notes and whispers of the cold air whistling through the branches and the night creatures coos in the dark made for a haunting melody that resonates deep into your marrow. The night is different here in southern thedas.

There is a music to it that many may not hear, but every clan teaches its young to listen to it. It is the song in which our gods sing to us their messages, its in the flight of crows, the rumbling of the earth or the beat of the storm. And like a blanket over our spirits, it draws us in for the nightly choir.

And Lyka seemed to only now notice it. Here wide eyes reflecting the night sky, glossy with tears unshed. A thread of worry runs through me before a smile gently graces her face. I have not seen her like this before, I realize. The weight I did not notice fell from her shoulders, her hands tracing her arm wrappings.

she looked at me again from under her blanket, "thank you" she says, the phrase repeated enough between us for me to understand. I sat closer to her in the snow, "thank. you." I stuttered.

and that was all from her tonight.

The morning came slowly the next day that when first light broke the horizon we had already been walking for an hour. By the midday sun, Wyrmhold could be visible from our higher vantage point. Already the chimneys were billowing smoke, stew and a hot bath beckoning my stride to lengthen. Each tier of the stone village that pressed up against the sheer mountain was abuzz with life and activity. A blizzard could not stop the proud tribesmen from doing their daily duties.

It had been a while since I was home, but the sight of it never lost its luster. Lyka seemed apprehensive but kept up pace, not but an hour later we were passing through the various levels of the hold. The lowest levels, for the warriors and hunters that ventured frequently out into the wilds for their kills, the first wall intricate in its burrows and pathways that they knew like breathing.

My presence was not ignored and already I had four different people greet me on my return. I did not stop for conversation though it will not surprise me if by the time I arrive at the thane's hall word of me and Lyka would have already reached his ears. Thanes are the kind of people that would not survive without having ears in the winds and eyes in every wall.

Still, it would make this whole endeavor easier if I don't have to explain my situation. Adoption isn't that common in Wyrmhold especially for an adult outsider.

By the time we had entered the second level of the hold Lyka stood confidently beside me, hand grasping loosely on my coat. I watched her from the corner of my eye, seeing her look at everything slack jawed and wide eyed.

Until we passed the augur and his Mentor spirit mage-hand lifting rubble off of the ground, probably to clear the space to make a winter garden, Lyka shrieks from beside me and jumped a solid three feet in the air, only to scramble up my arms like a frightened dog. She pointed a shaky finger at the mage and uttered the same word over and over again "what--WhAt--wHAT---WHAT?!!"

It's a familiar word but I didnt need to know what it meant to understand that she was shocked to see magic. Fear of mages and magic in general is a common thing to see but for such a reaction would mean something truly horrible must have happened to her, or at least something along that manner.

Or at least that what I thought before she leaped out of my arms and ran towards the mage. she was a fleet footed one that's for sure, By the time I had caught up she was gesturing wildly with her hands and 'speaking' to the spirit that accompanied the Augur. The Augur stood a little ways away as the small girl practically blurred with excitement. Well, at least it was better than fear.

She was still speaking in her lyrical gibberish that the spirit seemed to fully understand and even from here, I can practically see her shining delight of finally having someone to talk to. Deciding not to intervene on the private conversation, I approached the baffled Augur.

"It's not everyday you see the Gods speak in their natural tongue with a lowlander." Said the Augur

"It's not everyday you can find a lost child in the woods who could spoke in tongues." I rebuked, the Augurs eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. I held back a chuckle at the look on his normally stoic face.

"I don't know what you are planning Sky-watcher but whatever it is, keep me out of it." He grumbled away, stalking towards his hut in the distance. A glance at Lyka and the spirit showed they're winding down on their conversation. But it did remind me of one thing I hadn't thought of solving yet. In time I suppose, we were close to running late.

"Come little one, we are running late and the thane waits for no one." I say as I walked on. I looked back and saw the hesitance in Lyka. I smiled gently at her "We can meet with your friend again soon after, don't worry." The spirit says something to her, I assume relaying what I had just said, and Lyka quickly returns to my side waving goodbye to the spirit.

Funny how innocence can look past all the troubles that normally plague the fearful. Then again, Lyka has already proven herself different in an innate level. More to ponder on perhaps...

We quickly passed through the second tier and headed straight for the Thanes Hall. A building craved right out of the mountain side, only its front façade jutted out of the stone like a building emerging from the rocks. Two stone statues stood guarding the grand entrance. On the left was a Dragon, wings open and presenting, sitting with its head tall looking down with ivory eyes upon all those who entered with a sneer. On the right was a drake mid-roar, its great size balancing the serpentine form of its partner. The stone was dark and speckled with veins of white. The two grand Spirits of Wyrmhold.

Faflungyen- The blind who sees deceivers, who flies with justice and hunts in patience. patron of mothers, hunters and augurs and any who pursue progress and history.

and Gundrdak- The berserker who fights with mercy, who walks with endurance and guides in strength. Patron of Fathers, warriors and farmers and any who hope to protect themselves or others.

The sight of them was comforting, the Sky mother and Mountain father watch over all Avaars but each Hold has its Hold beast, and Wyrmhold has been without for many years. There had been none to inherit the blessings, none who were chosen. Even now, I could almost feel the great spirits searching for one who could endure the burden of bearing both of them.

But I was not here for that.

Confidently, I entered the Hall with Lyka in tow. And just ahead, sat the Thane of Wyrmhold upon his seat as he held council among his advisers.

"Greetings Thane Utohlak." I called with a fond smile.

"Ah, Sky-Watcher." He smiled  "You are early my friend, I will just be a moment." I nodded warmly and led Lyka off to the side where a hearth roared and sat ourselves among the floor. I lowered the packs that we had been bringing along and warmed ourselves by the fire.

Naught but a few moments later sound of chair legs scraping on the stone floor echoed and signaled the end of the meeting. Lyka, who had dozed off against the stuffed packs, jolted awake. I chuckled softly and slowly stood up cursing as bones popped.

"Getting old there Sky-watcher, If your not careful your hips might give out." The thane Jests.

"My hips bare no trouble Utohlak, It is but an old and annoying injury." I waved the concern away.

"Oh of course, Old and injured is the great Sky watcher," He winked "Well I heard you wanted to take in an outsider. I would assume it is this small one here?" He glanced at Lyka who had stepped back and given them both a critical eye. "Sharp eyes, that one. Where ever did you say you found her?" asked the Thane

"I stumbled on her half staving and half dead in the snow. She had just appeared from nowhere. Her clothing were strange and she spoke in a tongue I have never heard of before. But these past few days, I was able to a least learn her name and communicate in pictographs. She is smart and stubborn, and eager to learn."

the Thane stood in thought and glanced only at me after a quiet moment. "So I am to assume you wish to take her in and teach her our ways?" he asked.

"You are correct. I do not wish to replace what I had lost, dear as they are to me, but I still am in need of an apprentice an-" I paused. Lyka who had grown tired of the conversation, stood a ways and paced quietly. on the very tips of her toes. she paced a few steps, paused and bent one leg and started to turn like a slow top.

She halted as she came about and saw us staring. Our faces in a grimace. "Uhh..."

"You take in the oddest strays, Sky-watcher." Said the thane.

"You're one to talk, you were one of them" I deadpanned. Utohlak only grinned and reached out a had that I had then grasped. "And I am ever thankful, so far be it for me to deny another," The thane smiled fondly at me, I was making a face- I am sure of it.

"Walk with Strength, Sky-watcher" he chuckled

"And soar in Justice, my Thane." I bid farewell and grabbed out things, leading my new daughter (Daughter!) back into the second level and headed east to where my old hut stood.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: What Winter Brings

[italic]- for earth speak, which means it's said in English or her native language (Filipino and Japanese dialect) (only pertains to dialogue)

LYKA

::ONE MONTH ::

The first few days with Amund and the village was spent with me memorizing the whole complex. It was amazing to see the thought that got put into the design of the village. They did not have indoor plumbing but the privies and outhouses were kept near immaculately clean. Everyone even bathed daily which - I'll be honest, I did not expect from ye olden viking people. It was surprising in a good way.

A week or so in I had somehow gotten a job of sorts in the village, at first it had just been running errands or climbing up roofs for one reason or another. But Amund got home one day and handed me a bag of wool. After a few minutes of charades I realized people where asking where he had gotten his scarf and suddenly I had a business. Amund brought in the materials and we would sit sometimes by the fire crocheting and knitting. Sometimes I got too into it and made rugs and hats and all those dumb mom-crafts. The lady who had asked for one was absolutely ecstatic when her scarf-hoodie had flowers and puff balls.

Then some visitors came and saw all the other things I had made.

The demand was almost never ending at that point. But haggling and pricing and communicating was so hard when you Can't.

'Til Amund once again saved the day. The ghost I had talked to on the first day came through the wall one morning and told me it would teach me how to communicate.

This was after we screamed like a baby.

No I didn't !

Nah- yeah you did, Amund peaked through the window to see whats wrong. He's laughing outside.

shush you...

::Same day but hours later::

"We'll try it one more time, it's 'hemlock heats heather's horrible hut'."

"H-hemloch he-heaths heether's hureebol hoot ?" I stutter. The spirit tilts her head at me.

"Better but you are slurring your words again, little lamb. It's not on your mouth but -"

"[-In my throat,]" I continue, having heard it enough times.

"[Yes yes I know! but it hurts to keep at it!]" I pause to sip some water "[why can't I just talk like this and call it an accent? everyone has those... right?]" She takes a moment before she shrugs,

"Yes, I suppose but even with that excuse you still cannot be understood easily." I groan up at the ceiling.

"[uuhhg! fiine, whats the next tongue twister you got?]"

she smiles and hands over a sheaf of linen with scribbles on it. "speaking is done for today, lets move on to reading and writing!"

why does she look so happy? it's the wrong kind of happy, that's never a good sign...

Well, think of it this way, the sooner you can learn this the faster you can write your stories and get some money. Everyone is always willing to pay for smut !

I look through the sheaf and realize the similarities it has to Alibata or Baybayin. A main core of syllabic symbols that have a variant for a different vowel. like, 'Ka' being the default and variants of it's vowels in- Oh Sweet spirits of the sacred bond, what in the ?!

• Ka- variants : kea, kee, kiy, ki, koo, ku ,ko, kyo ,kon, koe and on it went with nearly ten variants of each vowel.

...well, shit.

... well, shit

"Well then, lets get to reading!" cheers the spirit.

::TWO MONTHS ::

This started when I went outside to deliver the next batch of Mom-crafts when some asshole with a bow crowded me and started talking too fast for me to really get anything past "well well well-". I dont remember much of it, other than a very shiny knife being waved around and the dull throbbing of my bruised arm. Amund found me later that day huddling under the table in the middle of a small panic attack. It happened plenty of times the first few days we met that he was no stranger on how to handle me during which. It was after I calmed down that I stuttered out "S-s-some [asshole] took my [stuff] and break-ed it. Had- Had bow and- ... bow and s-scar" I shakily gestured over my right cheek.

Amund growled out a name I didn't bother listening to. "Te-teach me?" I hiccuped. He looked confused until I pointed to his weapons rack by the door. "teach me...?"

He nods.

"Alright Little one" Grumbles Amund, "Lower your (-----) and remember to keep (-----)" and he charged, I knew this was more of me learning to be defensive but seeing a virtual Goliath charge at you makes the monkey in your brain take control and suddenly its flight over hold-still-and-roll-with-it. I definitely did not squawk but I side stepped away hugging the tall pike in my hands like a teddy bear. "Fight back Lyka." tsked Amund.

"Sorry..." I said sheepishly

"It is alright, perhaps we wont do that yet. Look here and (----) me." He took stance, something very similar to the horse stance only one foot was slightly back than the other. He looked at me with intent and I... I copied how he held up his spear deliberately, and on and on it went until we tried again.

At the end of the day I had managed to trip him up twice and fell over the rest of the ten times.

::THREE MONTHS ::

I was making my rounds all over the whole ''hold'' ,as is was called even though it was definitely a moderately sized village. After the first months of being unable to understand anybody, I became well acquainted with the word Lycheling. I think it means something like little luck or something but the nuances in their tongue was worse that English. Something that aggravatingly slows down my learning speed. It's like learning Swedish when you've just stepped out of a Spanish class and lessons are getting smashed together in a weird linguistic goo.

I had just passed the tunnels when I found the house that was described in the note Amund left me. I mean it took me five tries to actually understand it but I got there. I could see the tanning skins under the house's awning. And there was a huntress wearing think fur pants that seemed to be held together with rope and sheer determination ,and literally nothing else, with her back turned to me skinning something. But that's not what mattered. Something about what she was wearing, body paint and questionable pants, seemed very familiar.

"uhh, he-o Astrid?" I asked.

The woman stopped and looked over"Lyka! good morning," She stood up and washed her hands in the clean snow. "What can I do for you? or wait, are you already done with my things?!" she said as she walked over. She stood a whole foot taller than my five foot -three frame. Her hair was dark and sporting a dreaded undercut and tied back with the tough leather and bound like a wide rope. Sweet mercy that Hair must be a demon to wash.

I had to crane my head up to look her in the eye. (not like its not the norm with me talking to these fuckin giants.)"Yup,here you's things! it all is 50 copper and one silver."

"Oh, Alright. I have the coin inside, one moment."And she walked into her house only to step out a minute later with a small leather pouch. " do you have anything new today?"

"Oh! uhh... I finished table c'oth last night so that; there is [table runners] --" Astrid's face blanks, "uhh like a scarf but for table, you lay it on top and it keeps wood from burning when you put hot pot on." she slow nods. Well I guess table runners weren't a thing, oops? "But there is curtains too! lace strip and... same things yesterday !" I put my over stuffed pack down and show her the things I just mentioned. The curtains were the shorter kind usually for over the sink windows, the lace strip was just a sewn together flower coaster design with a border and tassels on one side. I think the table runner was pretty though, It was made up of small triangles that form squares and the color pattern was checkered of grey and white. Tacky but its not like they cared.

She hummed looking through them but handed everything back. "These are well made, but I'll just get my Warrior's Scarf." She said, handing over the money and happily took the Hufflepuff themed scarf hoody from me. And look at that, she's snuggling it. Aww, I might barf rainbows. "This smells nice, how did you get it to do that?" she asked after having it over her face.

"Oh, the wool was in same bag as apples, I almost forgot about it until Amund took apples and now smell never goes away. " I explained

"It smells delightful Lychleing! here, a tip for you're blessed hands." and she forks over another whole silver,

Bond Blessed what the shit?! I like her, she's my favorite customer. We should make more scented shit. Rake in that sweet Dough

"Alright! it a pleasure doing business with you." I cheered, almost skipping away.

I will agree with you on this one, I think making more scented stuff is great, it'll give us a reason to get more fruit too! something to add to the taste palette recently, I'm getting tired of salty and saltier.

"What is that your focusing on Little one?" Amund asks me while I was snuggled in a corner of the bed I now call my own. It was one of those bunk beds when the lower bunk was a double and top was a twin sized. Well, I say double and twin but it was made for six footers and more so it was already spacious. Amund's bunk was sparse and before he had the bunk made, we slept side by side on the double. He basically just laid on an Amund sized dent in the hay stuffed mattress (ugh I miss memory foam) and like a dwarf star to a rogue planet I would end up sliding into his side via gravity. It was fine though, I would be a Lyka-cicle in the mornings if not for him or the mound of blankets he buries me in.

"I am trying to make Faflun'en [plushie]. It be just a try though." I reply.

"[plushie]?" he asks though it sound more like 'plooshy?'. I laugh a little.

"uhhh, small anim'l, soft and ...dead?? oh, uh... little one's sleep with it!" He'll understand that, I'm sure.

I glanced towards him, and freeze at the look on his face. I try to say the words back to myself without context. Oh... Oh no.

"NO !! NOT LICK- LIKE THAT!!" he only raises a single unbelieving eyebrow. "UGH!! WAIT WHEN FINISH !! SHOO!!"

"Alriiight." and he cautiously walks away to make dinner.

I roll rover, ignoring him and focusing on my work. Bond-Damned I need more vocabulary. I'll make a list for ghost. They'll get English words and I'll get to practice writing, win-win. Well more like win-inconvenienced but at this point that's more like a state of being. I wonder if Ghost will appreciate two more earth languages. We've already traded English, but that's just on account that I write in English. Half the time I'm sure its only because they have me tell them stories and they'll 'learn the words so I can change them to common.'

Or something like that.

I'm also pretty sure that they enjoy making me do voices.

I end up finishing the Plushie. It looks something like a stuffed Pokemon, not that they'll know that, but all in all an Ok first attempt. The limbs were lopsided and the wings were not proportional and the tail seemed too long but I got the coloration down pat and the big goo-goo eyes I gave it made it three times more cuter. Amund was absolutely enamored with it and showed it off to everyone who came over for orders or pick-ups

The moms and kids loved it. And, funny enough, so did the Augur...hmm.

::FOUR MONTHS LATER::

It was a wonderfully crisp morning, not a speck of snow drifting to settle, finally after a rough few days. Amund, who stood off to the side, was enjoying a nice cup of warm mead spiced with herbs and winter pepper. The wooden cup was steaming in the naked hands of the great warrior and healer.

Though that had nothing to do with the manic smile on his face. I'm pretty sure its solely because of his hair brained idea, to which I was suffering. Because on the five meter-ish yard space of the cabin stood a number of poles in eccentric circles

"A-Amund, I do not think this is a good idea. I might just rip something..." I whimpered , wobbling on the frankly too tall pole only marginally burried in the snow. The weapon I was using to balance was a pole arm with a bladed end, very similar to a naginata except the blade was not curved and the pole arm was double ended. It was a better make and lighter than the one we had been practicing with for months.

"It is perfectly safe little one, the snow is thick enough to catch you, should you fall, but I have perfect faith that you can handle the cahllenege. Unless you can't, then we can just stop for today. Come along."

Is it really so scary? C'mon we look like the Avatar!!

I could fall!

At this height and that snow bank ? its a bruise at best. A bruise and cold at worse.

ARGH FINE!!

"No wait," I took a fortifying breath and shifted my stance. "I can do it. Just... catch me?"

Amund puts down the cup " Always." he smiles comfortingly. "now, do your forms and use the pillars as a foothold."

"alrig- WAIT EVEN THE KNEELING ONES?!"

And that morning I only had bruises. It was also a lot more fun than I imagined. I think a few kids saw me weeb out a little and pull a few well know poses from kung fu panda and what not. At least I got a few awed looks from it before I ruined it by stumbling. At least after lunch it was just story time with Ghost for the rest of the day.

"Little laaaamb you cant just end the story like that! what happened to the avengers after the Slovakia accords?what about the man of Iron? did He finally confess to the Soldier??? tell meeee" Ghost pouted, kicking her legs in the air. "OH No what if they couldn't get over their differences and never end up adopting the spider-child!? NOooo" They swooned off the bunk and down onto Amund's bed beneath. They rolled around lamenting the perceived sinking of their ship.

"You don't even know if their soulmates. Soldier doesn't have a mark anymore after they were experimented on, remember." I said after peaking over my bed down to the Stony Convert I had end up creating in this planet where Marvel isn't even a thing.

"BUT THEY ARE!! You said his mark used to be Soldier's shield! and Iron's Mark is a sketch! Soldier is an artist !!! it's them, I sure of it!" they rant, and I end up snorting.

"I honestly don't know Ghost. I can't... I didn't stay long enough to find out." I shrugged, thinking back on everything I've left behind on earth.

At my tone, Ghost goes quiet. I could feel her looking at me. "You never really told anyone where you were from..." Ghost said gently, as though afraid to hurt my imaginary feelings about earth. "Do you miss it? your home, I mean." they ask gently.

"No." I said, almost convincingly but, "... Yes? maybe. I miss it like you miss a lover that hurts you... I am glad that I am not with there anymore, but I miss what could have been." I remember the beach, the very same one I dream of every night. I miss the food, Okonomiyaki, Ramen and Okaa-san's Karagedon. But most of all I miss the sky. This planet is odd with its two moons and no galaxy to view, just a blanket of stars. But maybe... maybe It'll be easier if...

Don't do it. They wont believe you.

Shut up. I won't know unless I try.

Fine, but don't expect me not to hound you when I end up being right.

"C'mon I'll show you where it is." I resolved. They'll Understand. I'm sure, they're the closest to a friend I have here. And I'm in sore need of people to talk to. And stories just isn't cutting it anymore.

"Is it far? We cannot leave now, it's dusk. The stars are out already." Ghost says.

"It is not like we can actually go there, Ghost, I'll just point the way." And I dragged, err led?, her outside where the dark of the sky just started to show the twinkle of the distant stars. I pointed to them.

"Somewhere out there is a [whirlpool] of stars and [nebula's] and every [manner of planets]. On one of the arms of this [whirlpool], near its tip, is a star called Sol. and Sol has nine [planets]. On the third planet from Sol is a little blue and green sphere called [Earth]. That's where I'm from." and I can never go back, nor would I want to. "And [Earth] has one moon called [Selene]..." and I continued to tell them the basic concept of earth, making sure to leave anything about the culture and people out of it. No one needs to know about the important stuff. That's for social link seven to ten! and they just got to level three. When I eventually go quiet after describing how the Todoroki waterfalls looked when I had gone on a trip I saved up for one summer.

Ghost is quiet for a long moment. I'm sure they're only thinking of a way to let me down slowly, maybe tell me I'm tired and I probably need sleep and my head was definitely hit harder than everyone thought. But that's ok, I can just go along with it and maybe retract my sentiment of friendship, its not like I haven't lost friends before. I can just try again with other people. If they run screaming, calling me crazy then that's fine, good riddance. But if they stay... Bond, if they stay I just might cry.

"You came from the sky and you can't go home? Like The Thunderer?" They ask quietly. I look back at them, they looked guarded, face blank with a mask of indifference but there was a slight quiver in their eyes, I did not know what that meant.

"Yes... but not because I was bad. I was like Loki, cast out because I was different." I amended. That sounded like a better comparison. The innocent Villain who's only fault was being different. Yup, I'm definitely infected with the case of Loki, an Alien who didn't have soulmarks, so the Author (see : Universe) sees it only right to torment them endlessly.

"And they hurt you... because you don't have soulmarks?" She asked. And I barely stopped the full body flinch, instead I just nodded slowly. They were an outsider, without any idea how the world worked. They didn't need to know how bad things have gone nor how worse they could have been.

"You could say that..." I amended, looking back up to the stars, waiting for them to just poof away like they usually do. But they didn't leave, not when one minute passed, or three, or ten. I look up higher and the stars blurred from unshed tears. The relief of it had me near euphoric.

"Thank you for telling me ma'falon," They whispered as they gently laid their palm on my shoulder. My head only tilted towards them, something they said sounded familiar.

Ma'falon ? I know that word, why do i know that word?

"Wyrmhold, and Thedas, will always welcome you." and the moment they said that, I can almost assure you, my brain record scratched like a shitty DJ remix.

hold up- wait what?

"I'm sorry, come again?"

"I said Wyrmhold welcomes you." She repeated.

"No the other one." I said, waving my hand like there was a fly in my face. Because the thought might as well be a fly right. Because surely not, I'd be stupid and ridiculous. Right? I, for sure, heard wrong. Definitely not what I think they said. I haven't thought of that game since, Bond'ssince a few weeks before I ended up here! The trailer for the fourth game only just came out. The internet broke when they released the video but announced its release to be a few years later, like what the fuck man! There was no redemption for that game, not for me at least. It broke me, broke me so bad I wrote so many angst-y poems about it. Broke me so bad I wrote Patreon exclusive smutty fanfiction because if I broke then others broke too, and never let it be said I don't capitalize on my pain. So surely not, DEFINITELY not.

Right?

"Thedas? it is the name of this world. Our- er, I suppose it would be my world."Ghost said placatingly. Like there was absolutely nothing wrong with that sentence, nothing at all.

Welp, look on the bright side ! You... uhh, I... I got nothing.

Really?! what happened to your boundless snark and enthusiasm ??

Aye Dee Kay man, this shits gone full retard. Can't help you with that.

"Right.. so uhh, what year is it?" They gave me a look that said a lot about how stupid that must have sounded. "It's just it never occurred to me to ask, y'know?" Maybe I'll be lucky and it's no way near the actual era of the games. Maybe I'm in the Divine age or way before that. Or that this world only coincidentally have the same name as the one in the game, its possible! The sky looks fine so surely it'll be nothing.

"9:38, thirteenth day of Firstfall," Ghost replied.

Nope, that's too Thedas-y to not be Thedas, its the kind of shit you read in those codex thingies. I tucked the date into the back of my mind. My knees felt weak and hooh boy, are my palms sweaty? my palms are sweaty. Oh jeez.

"I... I think I need to sit down." I stumbled inside and turned to Ghost before I went through the door. "Thank you for everything Ghost. I... thank you- for eb- for everything." and I closed the door on them, shakily climbed up to bed and hid under the blankets until my brain started to make sense again.

Amund found me not a few hours after, muttering to myself while starting another order of scarf hoodies.

I'm in thedas.

Yes.

And I live with Amun- Holy shit he's the skywatcher guy from the fellow mire- place- thingy.

Yes. The "white-guy-with-the-Egyptian-name" I remember.

Holy shit. Avians are buying my fandom shit.

Pretty sure that's not what they're called. They definitely aren't Birds.

Oh shit, I'm MGiT !!! But I thought plot devices only happened to Soulmarked white people! It's practically a literary rule.

You should probably stop antagonizing the universe, you might hurt its feelings and then we've'd Ophelia'd ourselves.

Dont you Hamlet me. Let me break down in peace.

Don't have time for that, you need to figure out what you are going to do with this information. You are an Alien in a dimension where you sort of know the future. And you are an author, so do the Author thing.

The author thing ?

Yeah like, rationally think of how this story may go using the information you have at your disposal. Like writing fanfiction. So- Y'know- Do the Author Thing.

Right, Right. Do the Author thing.

So, I'm in Thedas. And Inquisition happens at 9:42, which would be five years from now. A lot can happen in five years. But the Main plot is everywhere but here, because when the fuck did the Inquisitor go to somewhere called Wyrmhold? I don't think that ever happened. So maybe this is like those side stories that happen outside the frame of the movie, like the simultaneous war of the dwarves against Melkor's forces while Aragorn and the fellowship fought in Mordor. So the point would be to Not be too Main Character.

Ok, I can do that. Don't be a main character. Ignore all Plot Flags- Easy.

::TWO MONTHS AFTER::

It was a windy day in what constitutes as march in Thedas. The mountain range was probably positioned near the ocean for the wind to carry a bit of coastline salt in the air. It was a comforting smell in the cold morning while I shuffled through my sets on top of the pillars.The soft, powder fresh snow crunched loudly along the main paths of Wyrmhold, a metronome to pace to while I trained.

Nearly a year in since learning to fight, I've only trained with Amund, who after deeming me not that fragile anymore, refused to go easy on me at all. No one fights half heartedly for things that matter, he'd said, No point teaching you if I can't trust you to use your weapon when you need to.

After that, me and the ground have gotten to know each other intimately. It fancies snow and hard rock, and giving my bruises more bruises. But not today. I've been hyped up for today since forever. My little beach has its own more fickle pillars and the full training room of kung fu panda inside a cliff side cave. So mentally speaking, Ive been swimming 250 meters, then training for 3 hours, then swimming back another 250 meters every night. I feel like Ghost knows exactly whats going on but I'm still sure my dreams are inside my head. Like 60% sure of it. It could explain why my body shows signs of muscle growth and soreness every morning but, lets be real here. Its like 6 hours of hardcore dream training then wake up then another 5 hours training-training. For months.

If it's true then I'd be bald and OP or , y'know, dead.

The train of thought doesn't distract me enough to not notice the near silent approach of Amund. So as he "surprise" attacked me, I had already shifted forms to completely avoid the maul and leapt clear to the outer ring, legs near perfect split, resting on two adjacent pillars. "A little heavy footed this morning," I smirked at his expression "better lay off the strudels Papa" I teased. He lifted his maul from the floor and I braced.

''You've improved much, " Amund said instead with a loud voice, eyes shining "you might be able to surpass me soon."

I kicked off the pillars to initiate our spar but the fresh snow made the wood wet and slippery, over extending my bend and sending me toppling with a yelp and a soft "oof" as I fell down to two feet of soft, powdery snow in a lyka shaped hole.

"But not to soon I suppose" Amund laughed.

::SIX MONTHS::

" There is many a tale," I said in my best Esmerelda impression. " Of a long forgotten people who lived on Islands as small as a single mountain, with the great sea all around. These people would travel for days between islands on boats as big as a whole village. To these people, the Sea was a great entity both benevolent and fickle."

"Is there a dragon in this story?" Interrupted one of the hunters.

Ghost glares at them from my side and I continue. " And This Sea, in all its great reefs and murky depths, fell in love with a giant turtle. Of which where ever she roamed, the current always followed, and where ever she beached, the island would sink briefly into the waves."

"Thats terrible !!" claims one worried apprentice.

"On the contrary, they welcomed her with open arms. For some, their houses stood on tall stilts anchored deep into the bed rock and have stood for so long a reef grew around them and helped keep the houses from blowing away during storms. And for others, their houses were not anchored at all! instead, as the tide rolls in, the houses would float atop the water and often they would follow the current til they landed in another bountiful island."

All the eyes of the younger impressionable sort got misty in the imagery. some could not fathom the thought. Ghost kept eagerly listening.

On and on that night I kept telling them story after story of old myths and legends from both my national homes. It was sort of nostalgic in a sense. I could almost see my Lolo sitting under the kotatsu in the brisk cold of winter morning, telling me stories of my heritage, showing off his tribal tattoos around his feet. "One day, Li-ling, You will do something great, and I will take you to Cebu and get you one of these. Don't tell your Lola though, she will-"

"Dont tell me what?" Obaasan asked, walking through the door way and seeing his and my position, his legs splayed and my hands tracing the never ending waves and a bracket of scales that wrap around his calf.

"Oh no you don't!!!" Lolo winced at her scolding but shot me a cheeky wink.

Near the end of my watch, when most of the party had fallen asleep, I whisper quietly with Ghost about more stories of the Philippine Isle's. About the Male Moon who fell in love with the death mountain god, about the turtle's brother who eats whole islands and flies high to chase the moons.

I told her about my Lolo and his tribal marks, what it means in my culture and everything else that I never thought I would miss from home. But I suppose Earth will always be my first home, that counts for something.

:: A few days later::

We had finally gotten enough from our hunting that it was time to go back to the village. Only we never headed back, or at least directionally speaking we never turned around and back tracked. Instead the head hunter, Mavik, led us further in, nearer to the next mountain in the range when he revealed a crack in the cliff with a deep decline. not long after the cavern started to look uniformed. That's when I realized that this was one of the paths hidden in the forest.

I asked them why they bother using these paths when it might be found and used against the village. They only laughed at me "Lychling, if anyone else tries, I pity their souls. these caves have killed more than the blight. " one of them said. "It would have probably worked many ages ago but it's only become more intricate since. Every new hunting ground we find, we carve out more."

I filed away the information, it was intriguing. Surely someone had made a map of the whole complex. It would be stupid not to keep track. Worth a shot asking around anyways.

What the ever-loving fuck are you gonna do with a map of the place ? running away or some shit?

Nah, just sounded like something I wouldn't regret knowing, y'know

Goddess, its like you with the internet again. One minute cat videos, next thing you know your hip deep in historical forging.

I ignored the thought. It's not like I was the only one guilty of this. Youtube just had that little column of videos and sometimes you cant stop clicking the interesting ones. It's also been useful before, I wouldn't have learned how to crochet without it! It never hurt to learn more in my opinion.

When we finally re-immerged inside the first tier of Wyrmhold, a runner told me I was needed in the Thane's Hall. Urgently. I waved goodbye to the young apprentices, "We'll catch you later Lychling! you're fourteen nights of stories isn't up yet !"

"You'll have to find me first." I cheered as I ran off. It lit a warmth in me to have something as stupid as an inside joke with the group- a sense of belonging that echoed louder in person than it did on screen back on earth.

Anyway, I ran up to the Thane's hall and quietly made my way inside. I saw him seated at the throne entertaining a few people I haven't seen around before. At the sound of my approached he nodded to me and I took that as a sign to just scoot other somewhere and wait 'til he was done. I quietly made my way closer to the fireplace off to the side and pulled out my crochet that I was working on while I was away.

"And who is this? I haven't had the honor of being introduced." someone said loudly.

there was a pause, then someone clearing their throat. Still, I continued on my project. "Is she daft?" he said quieter.

Oh! he was talking to me. I looked up from my work without quite stopping the flicks of my wrist. "Oh, sorry I thought you were talking to someone else." I glanced down to see where I was at before continuing "My name is Lyka An nun'yabusiness O Wyrmhold. Hi." now go away.

"noonyebossinis ? I suppose you must have odd family traditions." he sneers. Ugh, just hearing him speak makes my skin crawl.

"It has been a pleasure to talk with you and your son, Movran, You may stay to rest a while. But I have another meeting a must attend to." I hear the Thane say, glancing to see him urging me with his eyes. I stand up abruptly, the creep - who on a closer look is fucking huge and wow can look more of an asshole? Sweet Louise- starts towards me before I rush of towards the thane.

"You called for me, My thane?" He nods to me at my approach.

Please, please don't make me entertain the asshole, I'd rather French kiss a goat!

"Come Sister, we have much to talk of since your return." he places a sure hand on my shoulder and leads me towards a shadowed corner that hides a well placed door.

Sister?! whoa, must be something serious. He's never called me 'sister' before.

Once we passed the threshold and was surely out of earshot he released his grip. "Apologies Lyka, I know I had said urgently but I was accosted by those two just as the runner left. We have much to discuss but first, tell me how your hunt went. I have already heard many odd things." I tried to fight the blush creeping up my face.

"Ku-an...We went farther than I expected, but I managed to down a druffao! And I saw a giant nug, made me wonder if they tasted like rabbit, but Joor said to leave it alone so we did. Eto... I lost a bet with Maoris so I gotta tell story-time at the tave- I mean feast hall for the next ten days I think."

"You lost a bet with Maoris? Maviks son? What did you bet on?" The thane asked with a slight smile.

"We competed on who could last longer with just their smalls. I lost cuz he shoved the tree and the snow fell on me. It was fair though, we never said we couldn't do whatever to win. We had a good laugh over it." I shrugged. The smart ass lorded over it for days, but all in good fun I suppose.

"Good, I am glad that you are being welcomed kindly into our midst. I had heard about that incident last winter, I never thought you'd get that old shaman to start swinging his maul again. Thank you for that." I blinked at his sincere tone. "I had feared Amund would fall into grief after what happened. That man has a keen eye for people who are destined for more. I, myself, am a good example."

I snorted softly. "My thane, always so humble."

"Well, the small talk has been pleasant but it is not why I called you. While you were gone, Our Hold-beasts called me in a dream. I was told that they wished to speak with you."

"You mean the dragons outside? I thought they were long gone... unless they're living in the actual fade! Are they living in the actual fade?!!"

The man laughed "No no, nothing that elaborate." he paused and he looked lost for a moment "Lyka, have you ever wondered why our clan lives here? I know you have been wondering why there are relics of a far better society than ours all around us."

I nodded. Of course I was.

"Truth be told, Wyrm hold is not like other Avaar tribes. While they wander, we have planted our roots and survived centuries of winters. Our tribe comes from a distant people beyond the seas who have lived and thrived with dragons. Both as friends and has enemies. Legends tell that the best of us warred with dragons as equals. But these has been lost to time."

holy-

SHIT!!! eat my dust George Martin !

"Though we are not completely lost. What little remains is a way for us to commune directly to the last of our protectors." He gestured to the wall, which now that I focus on, was completely covered with pictographs of what must be Wyrmhold in its glory days.

A grand city on a mountain hive for the dragons. A great metropolis of nordic similarities. And on the very top of the wall, almost beyond the light of the torches, a white and red Mountain Drake roaring and on his right, A blue and black Storm dragon soaring.

"The dragons..."

"Yes." And he touched something on the mural that depressed with a clicking sound. The wall swung open into a dark chamber that lit suddenly from the thane lighting an indent in the wall. It was very Egyptian-esque, reminds me of that one scene in the mummy.

The chamber was round with twin statues in the center. The mountain drake statue stood imposing, protective of the sleeping statue of the serpentine storm dragon that laid to rest by his feet.

"I suggest meditating but sleeping can work to I suppose. I have faith that their voice can reach you. Anyway, I have duties to attend to, so excuse me."

"Wait, what? You're leaving me here??" I turned but he was already gone. Ugh stupid mysterious leaders of ancient forgotten societies and their stupid mysterious ways.

I walked forward and sat in front of the statues criss-cross-apple-sauce and tried to Commune with the dragons, what ever the fuck that meant.

It felt like I had just closed my eyes when I felt the heat of the summer sun on my skin and the gentle lapping of the waves. When I opened my eyes and saw the beach where my dreams always takes me to.

"How sweet the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shore, no matter how much it is sent away. " A rumbling old voice said behind me.

I turned and was met with scale and snout and red saber teeth as long as my whole body. I paled.

"You have an intuitive mind and a curious spirit, little fortunate one." the giant mouth said. "Yet your heart yearns to lyric words to a soul who could hear it." The snout pulled away and my eyes followed 'til it met the full visage of Gundrdak himself.

Holy shit.

Not. Helping.

Nope. Panicking. YEET.

"I.. uhh, you- I mean..." I stuttered.

"I mean no harm, little one. I only wish to speak with you." he laid back down on the soft sand, I swear I could almost hear the creaking of old bones and a quiet groan that was more like an airy huff.

"My mate and I have been watching you since your arrival to our little bastion." he walked with heavy foot falls towards the shore. My feet moving to follow even as my brain still tried to wrap itself around the whole idea of a fucking dragon in my head what the fuck.

"While your inventions and your stories push our people to try, it is the strength in you that I have laid claim on." he rumbled, laying to rest just beyond the lapping waves.

"What claim?"

"You could have met my wife instead of I, in this home for you spirit, instead I was able to win this particular argument."there was a very distinctly smug tone in his rumbling voice. "You have done much to survive, but it would be a loss if I were to ignore your ardent wish to stay."

I was only a few paces back but when he turned to look at me I was paralyzed from the gaze. A deep and piercing look that held no quarry in seeing into me. I could shudder if I wasn't frozen.

"Tell me, ko-okami, dare no tame ni tatakau nodesu ka?"

A wave came crashing out of nowhere, engulfing both me and the giant dragon. The current pulled like a vacuum, dragging me deeper and washing me about like bad laundry til I didn't know which way was up. Water flooded my being and invaded my lungs and I can't breathe why can't I breathe-

And suddenly I was back home. Not one with stone floors, piles of wool and smoke in the air. No, the floors where terra cotta, the walls a rush patch job of stucco and plaster and the lower wall a flower pattern of ventanillias. The room was achingly familiar, pastel yellow walls, a small bed and a fine net canopy over it.

"Ana na lang jud ta ani ron? Dili mag atubangay ug mag sturyahanay?! Nganu man na dili naka ma minaw nako!" Mama yelled from beyond the hardwood door. Their shadows dancing in the sliver of light that shines from underneath.

"PAGHILOM DIRA! wala kay ayo na mu tubag nako na murag wala ko nag trabaho ug ahat para maka kaon ta ug maka bayad sa kuryente!" Papa rebutted with a growl.

Oh, I vaguely remember this moment. But the argument was always a background noise to me. Now it was stark clear and ringing in my ears. It's hard to forget this night, even though I was half asleep and didn't always catch every word.

"... dili ko ka agwanta na manglagot nimo. Anata, siguro masmaayo na didto sa na si Lyka sa inyong mama. dili na arangan na makadungog ang bata na magaway ta..."

".....S-sige, dadun nako siya inig sunod nato larga."

Then the room changed, tatami floors and a bigger, messier bed. My desk and computer by the window, the wall above my bed covered in paper notes for stories long finished. My bedside table stacked tall with dirty plates and bowls. My wardrobe partly open with the mirror inside reflecting 12 year old me. I knew from the bruises on my arms and the hastily wrapped bandage over my shoulder. A once in a lifetime experience. Only it wasn't, these things- apart from the stabbing, happened each time I go out alone. But I can't exactly stay inside for the rest of my life. And no amount of bottle smashing can stop me.

"Neko-chan, soto ni denaide kudasai " Obaasan pleaded after the third time this happened, but this time it wasn't just ointments for my bruises. The retired nurse zipping my skin together with as much contempt possible without making it worse.

"Sou desu. Anata wa anzende wa arimasen." My grandfather piped up from the bathroom, looking for the biotic spray.

Both of them kept preaching to me how safer I would be to stay inside. How much the world would break me down if they find out about me. Speaking to me like a clone, a half-life charity project even though they know that I'm not. I blew up, expectedly.

"Shikashi, watashi wa watashinojinsei no nokori no tame ni tojikome raretaku wa arimasen! Onegai....Naze watashi wa jiyū ni narenai no ka?" they go quiet, glancing at each other from over my shoulder. My grandfather giving a pitying look as though he did wish I was free.

"Demo,kikensugiru... " he finally said after a moment.

"Anata ga watashidattara, hoka ni nani o shimasu ka?" I hissed back, both from anger and the sharp pain from the cut.

A sound of waves, darkness. And I was somewhere else now. A shinto temple, people in dark suites and veils. A pair of urn's on a pedestal, set inside a shrine. The priestess was droning out mantra's but all I can focus on is an envelope with all my legal documents, a passport and Immigration papers and the deed to a flat in Manchester, England. There was a letter I've read through a thousand times over.

Neko-chan,

Your grandmother and I have set this aside for you in case of any emergencies. The apartment was just a side business of a relative that has given it to us old folks to pay for pension, not that we needed it. Please live a happy and long life, find love and live free.

Love, Obaasan and Lolo.

A falling feeling, far off but ever looming, a blink. I was in my flat. Only the computer casting a light on the whole space. My bedroom a mess of laundry, and hobbies put away as soon as I pick them up, only to start over again. A forgotten easel, a rusty guitar, a DIY poi pair, and stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books and paper and mail.

The screen has Patreon up, the official site for artists and start ups. I had the next chapter uploading and the number of supporters pinging one by one.

And like a phantom, the screen goes to sleep, and I'm on the window ledge. 14 stories high, toying with the thought of flying.

Who DO we fight for?

Ourselves?

Quit shitting.

The lights of the city meld like a painting into the starry night of Wyrmhold. I'm not on the window anymore. Instead I'm outside, on a boulder, spear in hand. There are demons ravaging the village, Amund in the distance seconds close to being overwhelmed. Bodies of people I knew lay dead and disgraced on the pathways, pristine snow turned red.

A scream crawled up my throat, gut wrenching and true, heavy with all the emotion that flooded forth. It was trapped between my teeth, burning and angry.

What do you fight for?

I dash forward to help Amund, striking a despair demon in its spindly waist. I twisted and gave a jumping strike on a specter. I have to reach him. I have to help him.

LITTLE LAMB! MALA HALANI!!

"Ghost!!" I scanned the distance and saw her bound and shifting, her verdant glow going purple. "NO !!" but she was too far, and I was too slow.

Who do you fight for?

My skin crawled, my fingers ached, my heart pounded so hard it hurt to breathe. my scream wrenched free. "LEAVE THEM ALONE !!!!" and like a lightning strike, the earth cratered at my feet, a concussive blast knocking down everything in a ten foot radius. A wordless scream grew louder 'til it was a roar.

I felt different, full. Like I've eaten too many pizza slices and can't quite get to my feet. I look down and see scale and claw and fangs. "You fight, because you cannot lose. Cannot be alone anymore." Gundrdak speaks from within me. "Now awaken as more," the village fades away, and I'm back on the beach. Gundrdak gone from his spot and in his place, a glaive.

"Awaken as Dragon kin."

Chapter Text

THIS STORY ISN'T DEAD.

I known its been like a year since I last posted, life has done the equivalent of
strapping me onto a rickety roller coaster and then putting the speed between "stupid fast" and
"maddeningly slow" then let me run the incomplete tacks with a blindfold on. 

But I have resumed writing, thank gods. thank you for being so patient and I
understand if you've walked away from this narrative but if you've returned then you have my gratitude. 

I'm only human. can't say this wont happen again, but I promise i will never drop this story. 

Chapter Text

[A/N: a lot of the first bit of this chapter happens with days in between, its choppy and flows with a train of though recalling events kinda feel so,,, yeah. Sorry UwU" ]

I woke up still in the small room, skin tingling and nursing a splitting headache. I had looked up towards the statue to find it utterly changed from when I once saw it. Faflungen was now awake and wrapped protectively around her mate, stone cold eyes boring icily on who ever dared. Gundrdak was different too, no less frightening as he laid low to the ground, his features enough for me to practically hear his pleased rumbling. There was a clatter when I shifted. I looked down and saw, clenched in my hands, the glaive I had grasped in my dream.

" It has been a long time since I saw the world inside a mortal mind. " A booming voice said from inside my head.

WHAT THE BLESSED FUCK!?

"Calm yourself, Drakinn. 'Tis only I"

GUNDRDAK??

" Aye. Peace youngling, I have only just melded with you. I understand if it takes you a moment to be comfortable, but peace- I cannot harm you. "

oh what the fuck, are we possessed? can dragons do that?? can SPIRIT DRAGONS DO THAT?!

"Do not be dismayed, 'tis not an everlasting partnership. I will be with you so long as you remain worthy of my relic."

Relic? oh, he means the Glaive. Right, that. "Would you hate it if I took a nap?" I said aloud.

" Perhaps it would be best to make your way outside. I wish to speak with your blood brother. "

"my who?"

"He is the current Thane of the hold, you were taken under the same father are you not?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. But we aren't related or anything."

"Being blood does not have to mean born from the same mother, Drakinn. It is the blood of the covenant, that binds you closer than the water of the womb."

"I... huh, that actually makes more sense than what I thought it meant."

I finally came out of the room and back into the main hall where the Thane sat in his chair with Amund stomping angrily in circles. At the sound of the door closing, both of their heads snapped towards me so quick I winced in second degree sympathy.

The thane ( should I start calling him kuya? Onii-san? Aniue?) quickly gave me a once over and saw the stark white and blood red glaive in my hands and gave a boyish smile. "See Amund, I told you she could endure the trial !" he smirked to the simpering giant. "She could have failed ! or have been injured !! I cannot heal the mind, My Thane. " Amund hissed before marching over to me, already scanning me up and down to check if I'm alright. From his look I must be the equivalent of roadkill.

"She is exhausted, surely the training and explanations can wait 'til tomorrow"

" I only wish to speak a few words. "

SWeet suffering son of a- I flinched as Gundrdak spoke, only I heard it in my ears. Specifically, from the glaive.

" Lyka Victoria Lorenzo, shall not only be seen as my direct descendant, but also as caretaker of the hold beast. "

Amund's jaw slackened, but the Thane only gave a firm nod.

"Well, that was-" I felt my knees gave out as a strong pulse of white ringing pain blinded me for a moment. "Ow." The last thing I said as the darkness creeped in and I fell into deep sleep.

I was asleep for a while, just dark and drifting in the nothing before I suddenly became conscious. As slow as the dark came, it receded and I was back at the beach. The impression of a giant dragon was still in the sand, the displacement too much for a handful of waves to be able to just wash it away so easily.

You know... this is kinda like a metaphor for your state of mind.

Yeah, I got that. It's like symbolism 101

Do you think the universe is being lazy with this right now?

I mean... It seems pretty on point if you count everything else thats happened.

Hmm.. Mood.

"When you're quite done, drakiin. I would like to have a word with you." A familiar rumbling voice spoke from the shack. I turn and see an old man in about his late fifties, buff as fuck and totally rocking the 'Reinhart' look, but without the glass eye and scar though.

Overwatch was a dark and desolate time for us...

I have no idea what you are talking about.

"Who... Gundrdak?! whuh?"

"Yes,'tis I." He jauntily waves from the rocking swing on the porch. "I have not taken my larger form. Your dreams have proved too rigid for me to will myself an appropriate nest. And I have taken a liking to this large cradle."

"Oh.. that's called a swing. It's pretty great."

"Oh Aye! it is, I feel like a babe stuck in a spider's web again." he sighs, "Those were simpler times."

what.

What.

I don't....

Suffice to say, getting to know the old coot is just about as emotionally disorientating as finding out you have a great grand uncle you thought was just an estranged family friend that turned out to be really fucking rich like holy fuck.

Not that I speak from experience.

I had an Aunt .

When I came to, I was back at home buried under a metric ton of blankets.

now why does this feel familiar ? oh right...

"Amund! I'm awake now!" I croaked from under the mound. "Can you get some of these off please?" even as I tried to wiggle out of it, the number of blankets just proceeded to tangle up some more around me.

What did he do? swaddle me like a babe??

"Lychling?! Oh thank the gods, you've been out for three days!"

Well that explained why I felt like I got left behind under a shed by the beach, parched, dry and uncomfortably warm. It reminds me of the first few times I woke up like this. Back then, I was just some dying idiot who ended up somewhere I never thought was real. And now I've integrated myself into their society, earning my keep and helping around the hold. Who'da thunk, some NEET city bumpkin like me could get to where I am today. Ah, good times these are, good times...

Wait a minute.

YOU KEPT ME ASLEEP FOR THREE DAYS!!?? What the fuck man!

"Your body was using that time to accommodate for my presence, All is well now. You've grown your scales and your biology is not completely human anymore! be proud."

I internally screamed incomprehensible nonsense. There was just no arguing with him. But he was not wrong. It seemed that the aftermath was common, or at least expected. Amund was not as rage-y when I awoke and now he seemed far more enthusiastic for training than ever before. I did not think much of it when he suddenly told me to "Fight like you mean it"

It did not occur to me what he meant by that, until that night when Gundrdak showed me what Amund had meant.

"My champions all receive a boon from merging with me, beyond just the spear." He rumbled, still built like a brick house, but what else is new? We were standing atop the distant cliff face that dropped into the ocean, a perfect cliff diving spot if not for the 100 ft. sheer drop to sharp rocks below.

"If you will it, you can grow scales and claws and even wings. All that you require is practice. These are already there, beneath your skin. You just have to give it that final push ." And with the final word he pushed me off the cliff.

I wish I could say that that was all it took for me but by the time I barely got a tingle going I snapped awake. The following days were much the same until I could finally shift into the partial form. Which was great and amazing and the tail was so fucking cool!

But I couldn't change back.

Shit.

Gundrdak stepped in again after a week of smacking things with my tail, gouging pillows with my horns, ripping my shirts from my stupidly wide wingspan and lagging behind on orders because claws just aren't handicraft friendly, ok? On the up side, hunting was getting so much easier now when you can just kamikazi dive bomb a druffalo, its like instant death from above. Sweet bonds though, the headaches and getting my horns stuck between the ribs is not a good way to celebrate a hunt, the guys all kept jibbing me for it.

But hey! Turns out turning back just needs for me to chill the fuck out. I stressed out trying to turn and stressed out some more trying to force myself back. The rest of the time was trying to make the change fluid and instinctive.

Which, in hindsight, was a wonderful habit to pick up for my current predicament.

At the moment, I find myself in the company of sir Creeps-a-lot from when I went to meet Brhudir

(I told him what Gundrdak said to me, he laughed and had me explain what those words meant. He said to call him Brhudir, something about the regality of the term, guess some things just don't translate).

And by " in the company of" I mean I currently am half shifted, clawed hand holding a sword neigh six inches away from my face.

"Dude what the shit fuck !"

The figure tsk's and reaches back for another weapon, a glint of metal in the low light shines off the daggers edge, quick as lighting my talon-like fingers grab hold of his larger frame and with draconic strength, yeet him off the bed and onto the floor with a loud THUD

" Papa, Stranger!! " I call out. And... Nothing, I kicked up from the bed, talons tearing the rough cloth covering the mattress, again. Peering down with reptilian eyes the world is blue tones. Warmth comes in as reds and yellows and oranges. The assailant is winded on the solid stone floor, slowly getting up as though he could hide in the dark.

I look around for another warm body. There was none. The large bed beneath mine cool. Amund wasn't here.

Why wasn't he here? where's papa??

"WrrEiss Ahkmrnd ... " I growled down to the crawling figure. My mouth slowly getting too crowded with too many large teeth. I didn't know what was going on, but there was a fury bubbling and burning in me, sharpening the two tone world 'til I could see his face blue in fear

"What sort of Abomination-" he scrambles out the door, weak knee'd and frightened. I wanted to just go find Amund, tell him what happened before there was a roaring in my ears.

" Hunt him down, drakiin. Bring him to justice ! " Gundrdak roars in my mind, loud unquestionable my body moved before thought could catch up as I swiftly step up to where he toppled down from the bunk bed.

I growled and dashed outside, roaring under the night sky, a battle cry loud enough to awaken most of the villagers. I turned to look and in the cool blue of the snowed world, his stumbling body is a bright orange contrast. A strong push from the floor propelled my lighter body up into the air, a clumsy flap of my wings, and I dived straight towards him.

we tumbled on impact, rolling onto the frightfully cold snow, finally stopping with me holding the glaive right at his face and with one clawed hand wrapped dangerously around his neck,

I roar in his face, loud and long, fangs close enough to snap and rip into his cheeks.

Warmth leaves his face, and color starts to come back to the world. The burning bubbling rage from before retreating back to the depths of my soul. Finally, in the light of the night sky and the gently falling snow, I see the hard edge in his eyes and my tail whaps the floor between his legs in anger.

I raise the glaive higher and bring it down sharply. The man flinches, but I wasn't aiming at his face.

I get up with him dangling from the scruff of his hide armor pierced by the bladed end of the glaive and march angrily towards the Hall, villagers peek from their shutters and wisely leave us alone, though ghost does drift towards us from the Augur's Hut.

" Little lamb, is everything ...goosey? " they ask when they had drifted close enough, moving with me as I carry the offender towards the

"I think you mean Gucci." I growl low and tired, blinking quickly as the adrenaline starts to wear off "And no, its not Gucci Ghost, d'you know what happened to Amund?"

they look off in the distance " He seems to still be at the dining hall, I believe he's out drinking the rest of the sentinels. "

"In this time of night? what for? he'd usually be home by now... "

" Hmm, you should take that scoundrel to your Brother, I'm sure there are words to be had ." then ghost drifts off towards the darkened dining hall.

The Thane was expectedly grumpy at being woken up at this time of the night, which of course lowered his Bullshit tolerance to an ungodly low. That meant that not only did the assailant land himself in prison, I too was thrown in jail to spend the night and await trial at first light.

Yey.

I don't know what is the usual atmosphere during a trial but this was by far not at all a normal morning in Wyrmhold. Usually, mornings are cold and begrudgingly active, the successful dawn hunters returning with small game, usually of snow fennec, some cave spiders and the odd mix of foraged greens. Then the Smithies start hammering and that when you know its 8 O'clock. Then after that the lunch time hunters starts coming in with bigger game like druffalo or boar or the occasional wolf.

Instead, even from my dreary cold cell, I could hear loud drums and excited murmurs. It rings an old memory, like hearing a fiesta on TV or... no like it was FIFA and everyone was pre-gaming all at the same time.

You'd think it'd be a somber court trial but it sounds like were about to be released into a Colosseum.

A Colosseum would sound much nicer, this kinda feels like were about to walk out into those Japanese game shows of Mildly Terrifying Danger

Finally, when the drumming's started to get louder and stronger, a guard knocks at my door and escorts me to the main hall. He takes a round about path that leads me back outside where I see some familiar faces milling around and surprisingly, there, amongst the crowd, was a group I've never seen before. Nonetheless they weren't hard to place. they were stout and shorter than even me and had a particular sheen in their eyes.

Dwarves? why are there dwarves here?I thought they never left Orzimmar.

"The Dwarves are an old ally and trading partner of our kin. In times passed we often traded our wyvern eggshells and scales to them exclusively up until the great hunting" Gundrdak said nonchalantly, like he didn't just drop a fucking lore bomb on me.

He sensed the boat-load of questions on the tip of my tongue and delayed my asking by reminding me of the situation at hand. Right, I have a trial to get to and make sure I don't get lynched for attacking a 'dignitary'. As if there was anything dignifying about him.

Stepping into the large room, felt a lot like walking onto a stage. Packed tight from wall to aisle was a crowd of people standing and murmuring in what I assume was the Avvarian proximity to relative quiet, which was y'know, somewhere between outside voice and dance club voice.

On the left side of the room, near the front was a small group of people who sported different colors than the Wyrmhold bone white, burnt umber and mountain blue. Instead they had somewhat of a maroon color scheme. On my right was, comfortingly, very familiar faces of regular customers, fellow hunters and even Ghost. Amund was worryingly nowhere to be seen.

And finally on the pinnacle of the center hall, cutting an imposing figure on a throne I have never seen before, made of a giant jaw bone of some kind of creature, fangs facing out towards the attendees, sits the Thane Utohlak, which is wildly more intimidating than Brudir Utohlak.

And ranting his mouth off, tied up in ropes like myself, is the beaten up figure of Sir Creeps-a-lot. I don't know if he had a death wish or was denser than a block of bricks buried under concrete. The Thane's ever darkening façade lightened up a smudge when he noticed my loitering by the door. He mutters something under his breath and finally addresses the people in assembly.

"Silence," he says loudly, "the lady of the hour arrives." some people in the crowd chuckled at the small jib, dispersing the unnoticed tension in the room.

"As the Thane of Wyrmhold, Chosen Caretaker of Faflungen the Frost Queen, I call this trial to Order. The Accused," he turns a sharp look to the guy, "and defendant," then glances at me "must declare themselves and their loyalties to the court."

I had just sucked in a breath to speak when-

"I am The Hand of Kord, Son of Movran. I have proven myself under the trial of the mountain, My will is the will of the fangs of the earth. I was wrongfully attacked by your clan member while I was un armed and unprompted."

Unarmed and unprompted my ass...

"I am Lyka, Daughter of Amund the SkyWatcher, Chosen and Caretaker of Gundrdak the Mountain King. I am a proud member of the Wyrmhold Tribe. I would never act in anyway that harms my home and my family, I am its defender." I say in what I had hoped was a confident voice, instead, my voice cracked near the end of my statement, dying in a held back cough.

Thane Utohlak takes a moment to regard both of us with a judging eye, the air in the room growing heavy with the weight of the stare. Already I was tempted to wipe my clammy hands on my furs, but I bit my cheek and fought the urge to fidget.

"Skald." the Thane finally said,

"As Your Will, My Thane." From off to the side an adult woman with a scowl on her face and head dress shadowing here eyes stepped up and spoke.

"The Hand of Kord is a visiting dignitary from StoneHold, escorted by a entourage of fifteen warriors and five mages. This, alone is a minor offence in the rules of hospitality, coming within our walls with enough men to raid our land. Fortunately they have surrendered their weapons and had remained cordial in their stay." she spoke in the tone of a truly frightening principal breaking down to you exactly why your a shit student. Its a tone all young teenagers know in their very bones.

In the dead quiet of the proceedings my ear catches a muttered conversation in an odd accent I've never heard of before.

"Minor offence? what would it take to be a major offence?"

"One would assume Actually raiding the lands."

"Oh... makes sense"

"As for the esteemed Daughter of the Mountain-"

"the who what now?"

Was she talkin about us? wha-huh??

Yes, you, Drakkin now pay attention. Oh right, sorry Gundrdak.

"- our midst for 4 winters, she has proven to be a trusted member of our people, has done nothing to purposely destroy, injure or caused any duress for the entirety of her life with Wyrmhold. In fact she has been a lead provider of beloved inventions that has made the treacherousness of the frostbacks more bearable. She has increased trade and progressed our tribe in so much as bringing us closer to our lost glory." the skald said with finality.

"And what of last night incident?" Thane Utohlak asks as he leans back into his throne, hands steepled in front of his face, elbows on the armrests and with one ankle thrown over the knee. A picture of a relaxed yet terrifying judge.

"After collecting various accounts from different parties and witnesses," The Skald produces a book from beneath her cloak of furs. A book that seem to made of two pieces of bark acting as covers for a accordion folded piece of leather, "here after are the facts of the situation." she clears her throat and starts reading.

"Past midnight, approximately when the point of the sword had passed mountain peak, there was a loud noise that came from the abode of our Skywatcher, Amund. He, himself was not home at this time."

"Where were you last night, Skywatcher?" asked the Thane, voice suddenly booming through out the hall, I may or may not have flinched.

"I was at the Mead Hall," Amund replied just as loudly even though he stood at the front row. "entertaining the Stonehold's warriors with tales as they had been asking of me for a number of days. They kept insisting for more stories and the mead kept flowing..." his voice trailed off, "I lost track of time and ..."

"It's alright, I heard all that I need to hear." Thane Utohlak said calmly, a single hand raised towards Amund in a halting motion, then he waved at the principal beside him."Skald, proceed."

"After a short moment, this Hand of Kord was seen fleeing from the hut and was chased down by a half awoken Guardian of the Mountain. he was then apprehended and then surrendered into your custody." and then the Skald folded the book back up and tucked it back under her furs.

The Thane took a moment to think, head downcast in focus, chin resting on the face of his thumbs, hands still steepled.

Y'know, not that I look at it, he has that same thinking pose as Sherlock,

Oh yeaah, kinda has that Benedict Cumberbatch nose now that I think of it.

A rather old remake of Sherlock, sure but it was a classic.

"And why, pray tell, where you even within the home of The Skywatcher and his daughter, you Hand of Kord?" the thane asked after a deep breath, before he did the 'Boi' hand motion, it was a war in a half not to react. Serious face Lyka, Serious Face,

I turned away to look at the Kord guy, mainly to not laugh at Thane Utohlak, but the moment I did I felt that deep guttural anger in the pit of my stomach.

"Why? I was invited in of course, I would never enter a home uninvited. This, Creature," he glances a sneer at me, and I bristle in response. I could practically see the glaive's crystal eye turn red in fury.

"of yours beguiled me into her home and then attacked me in my sleep!-"

" HOLD YOUR TONGUE, YOU SON OF A DISEASED RIDDEN CUNT " exploded Amund from the weapon. I smirked a little and whispered a "Bless you." for his outburst.

"See! she has no control of her animal, she will be a danger to your people, if you release her into my custody, we can take her- "

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"this time it was Amund who exploded, his face red with anger, hands white-knuckled clutching empty air at his side

Say something! at least try to defend ourselves!

Say what exactly? that a man entered our home and tried to what? kill me in my sleep? I don't have any proof !

" My Thane, If I may speak? " ghost says from the crowd, floating towards the center aisle.

"Of course, revered Spirit of History." Thane Utohlak says, letting her- I mean them, bonds that's hard to keep track, take the floor.

Ghosts drifts towards my side, laying a spectral hand on my shoulder. "Lyka, as we of Wyrmhold knows, is never seen without her bracers." there's a murmur of agreement from the crowd "that is because her old culture taught her to hide the mark of her [------]." a gasp takes the crowd.

" what word did you just use? I don't understand it " I ask them they give me a small smile which I take to mean they'll probably explain it later.

"Amund, would you say that she has markings hidden underneath her bracers?" Ghosts asks.

"Aye, I've seen it when I tended to her in her draconic sleep." he says. Eyes hard and steely. "Then I believe if this Hand of Kord were to have his own markings then it would be possible to say that Lyka would ever welcome him into her home." Ghost concluded.

"Now that's rather far fetched," spoke one clansmen of the Kord guy "So your saying she NEVER lets anyone inside the home? isn't she living with your clans healer?"

"That's right, she's a woman, so unless your saying she's as cold as stone too, why wouldn't she have any dalliances? " spoke one member of the hunting party, one of the few who never interacted much with me.

"I..." I started to say, voice catching in my throat. I coughed and tried again, "I do feel attraction, but who in their right minds would welcome that thing." I threw a flippant hand at the guys general direction. "Even darkspawn's would rather fall on a grey warden's blade than touch that filth" there was a few chuckles amongst the crowd. "If I ever did welcome you into my home, it would probably be to try and cure you of whatever nug-rotting disease you carry in your arse."

"Thats enough." Thane Utohlak said loudly, the crowds laughter dying in peoples throats. "I have made my decision."

I gulped quietly, tightening my hold on Gundrdak's glaive.

"The Trial of the Caverns." he states. "You will both enter the uncharted catacombs of Wyrmhold's Dragon Peak, whomever one of you are able to find your way to the peak within 3 moons and speak to me the Ancient Codex found at the top I will declare as the one who holds the Queen of Justice' favor. You both have up until midday to prepare."

"But," and his voice deepens to a threatening degree "Do not think you can take this challenge lightly, you may only bring what MY Tribe, the people of Wyrmhold, offer to you for aid."

The Kord guy scoffs and crosses his body builder arms. "This will surely be one sided. My prowess has garnered Kords favor, I will not lose in a trial of strength."

" Ooh, I'm so stwong, kowd-sama wuuuvs me cuz I suck at smart stuff. Cocky Wimp." I mutter, snorting a chuckle under my breath

"You've got something to say, half-baked abomination?" he snaps

"Yes, Are you Kord's Left hand or Right hand?" I ask while pantomime a vulgar hand motion.

"Lyka, Decorum. " Thane Utohlak berates though he was sporting an amused smile. I stifled my laughter "...sorry, Brudir."

It was midday, and no one has given anything substantial to the Guy of Kord but a small picnic wrap of what looks like only a day's worth of rations. Kord hand, guy, uhh.. Hand. Hand had bristled at the meager amount but was smart enough to take what was given to him.

As for myself I was of course told to leave Gundrdak behind, which I loudly and adamantly protested before Gundrdak himself told me that it would be alright.

" One day you will find that you cannot use my glaive, or that I am lost to you momentarily, You still bear the mark of the Mountain Drake. No matter where you are, even if I am not with you physically, you always have the boon of my blessing. Take this chance to grow outside of whatever I can teach you. "

A heavy, invisible weight pressed gently on my forehead. Almost as if the dragon was pressing his snout against it.

" Climb to the peak and come back to us, min dovva, show to them the rage that commands mountains. " And so with a hesitant heart, I gave the glaive to Brudir Utohlak for safe keeping.

As I traveled back to the house to wear my warmest set of hunting furs, I was accosted by some of my regular customers and a few friends on the scouting and hunting parties. One had given me a large bag with food and a large water skin to go with, another gave me a spear with a freshly sharpened edge

I had thanked her profusely but she only shook her head and told me where to stick the pointy end, her eyes had a light of understanding and anger which I didn't bother asking about.

One gave me a set of sharpening stones and the last of my hunting buddies gave me a flint and dagger along with heartfelt well wishes.

Just before I got to the entrance of the catacombs, which even though it was located at a higher part of the mountain than its base, I knew it was called catacombs for a reason. Ghost was there to meet me before I entered the trial.

"Thank you for trying and defending me, ghost." I said to them

" I had hoped it wouldn't come to this little lamb ." She said " But perhaps this is, how you would say, bonds willing. I will wait for your victory, ma falon. "

" Ma serannas , Spirit of History." I respond with a small smile "I will do my best, and hopefully I can make you all proud of me."

And so I walked quietly with them to the entrance, where the Skald was there to see me enter. "You will be entering a different path from your opponent so that neither of you will kill the other before you even step foot within." she explained which, phew. I wasn't looking forward to fending that lump of meat off from the get go.

"Whenever your ready," ghost whispered.

I took a deep breath, then I walked in.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER V: WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND [pt.2]

I've never gone and camped in a cave in my life. I've looked into cliff shallows, natural crevices formed by the waves seeping between the stones and eating away at it through years and years. I've written about soldiers in the great war getting separated from their battalion and getting lost in a long-abandoned underground bunker that weaved and twists like an anthill beneath the soil. I've written about the closed-off feeling, the bone-deep cold, the dead quiet.

No one fucking told me about the goddamn spiders.

I was terrified from the extreme darkness that took over once I was deep within the caverns. It was the kind of darkness you knew in the animal part of your brain when you can't even see your hand inches in front of your own face. It was terrifying. The hand I had kept on the right side of the stone walls had been so sensitive to any change in the texture, the moment something stringy and sticky brushed my palm I barely swallowed the shriek in my gut.

And then I started hearing chittering, and the clacking of carapace on stone. Next thing I knew, I had just barely dodged a swipe from a wolf sized spider. I still couldn't see anything but somehow I could sense the spider in front of me. There were loud and rhythmic thuds on the ground beside me, I quickly shuffled back, spear in front of me. Training kicked in and I was just barely missing deadly swipes and pounces from the huge spiders.

I could feel the breeze from their swipes and jump back before they could meet my skin. Even the parts of my scalp felt tingly, hyper-aware of every small draft that blew.

A loud chitter, something heavy bounding in the air, nothing beneath it, I tuck and roll and ran with my spear in front of me. Then it was the familiar sensation of being chased. My legs kept pumping, my spear swinging in front of me from the motion, I lowered my hold onto the pole lengthening my reach but sacrificing control.

I couldn't see where I was going only that I could sense the spiders behind me and hear their clacking above me. I kept running. In the dark I couldn't see much of where I was going, there was nothing of that odd night vision from when I was attacked only the evening before. I swung the spear ahead of me like a blind mans walking stick of death. There was another bout of pressure from behind me, a digging feeling of just the need to get away, I dart to the left just as the sound of snapping pincers clack loudly right where my head used to be.

“Nope, Nope Nope. Fuck, why couldn’t it be the baby lizards, at least those were cUTE!” I mutter, the sentence turning into a yelp, a spider suddenly darting in from the right of me. I spun to the left too sharply, losing my footing, crashing against a crack in the opposite wall almost like a shallow corner of rock. A niche.

I was cornered. No way out but to fight. I pressed my back into the wall, leaving no chance for my back to be open. In the periphery of my vision, I can see the movement of the spiders, large things that almost tower me completely. Then they stood still. almost a heartbeat of nothing but the rushing of blood in my ears. They pounced high into me. I slid beneath spear raised blindly above me. I felt contact, the screeching of a dying arachnid as I imagine it skewered on my spear like a barbecued lizard. green blood and Ichor and bug bile drenched like a popped balloon onto me. It oddly smelled like vomit and bad eggs. I tried not to gag or get it anywhere into my mouth. there was a splorching as the sound of slimy eggs? fell from the carcass that laid like a dead canopy over me.

'Ew.'

The other spiders laid stunned after crashing full force into the stone wall. then there was dust, then there was a loud, echoing rumbling, the familiar sound of rock grinding against rock, a split second passed in minutes as I looked up into the cavern ceiling, almost feeling in my own skin the wandering crack from the wall disrupting the structural integrity of the stalactites above me.

'That's not good, Run bitch. Run'

I ran, as fast as I could pass the dazed spiders just as the thundering sound of a cave-in and wet splats echoed behind me. I kept running. 'If only I could see in the dark like that night...' I mused, using the end of the spear to tap along the ground, hand running along the cold cave walls.

"I wonder how I did that... I remember being angry and ... this burning in my blood... what was it that Gundrdak said again? I still have his blessing even though he isn't with me physically? "

'well, it sure doesn't feel like it. we're as blind as a deaf bat in space'

"Pretty sure a bat in space would be dea- oh. I see what you did there. Double-sided metaphor. 6/10"

I was busy trying to think of a comeback for myself when hand lost contact with the wall, revealing a lower set corridor to the side. There was a split in the cave. And I can't even see my choices. I needed light, and I didn't have anything like a torch in my pack of stuff. Frustrated, I started to feel around for anything that can be turned into a torch.

I could break off part of the staff, use that as the stick ... bonds, please have linen or muslin or anything that isn't leather or fur- leather, nug skin, leather, fur- oh! what's this? ... elf root?! who wraps cheese in elf root?! fuckin void damned --- arrgghh !!

In the midst of my outburst I didn't realize the world had turn monochromatic, completely flying over my head that I could see every detail of the elfroot I was angrily shaking like I was choking its leafy neck.

'You do realize you can see perfectly fine right now, right?'

A pregnant pause as the information settles in. The voice in my head was right, I could almost see everything but in shades of grey but there was something else too, I could smell something. before it had only been the moist of the air and the bitter bite of the cold but now there's like, a flavor to it. I could smell bugs, like the acrid weird taste in the back of your mouth when you crush an ant and bring your hand too close to your nose right after. there was a distinct dustiness to them too- Spiders?

There was more, A distinct smell of lizard- I'd never forgot that stench, you can only clean a dirty turtle pond so many times before the smell just lives in your head like ancient genetic memory- just your DNA getting so traumatized its smell is encoded in your genetics, filed under "Bio-weapon; Run Away"

Deepstalkers- those tiny raptor things. let's not fight tiny raptors, I've seen Jurassic planet V. and the smells came from straight ahead, the fork in the path smelled of nothing dangerous so I edged towards it and kept walking.

And all the while I was sniffing the air, seeing in the dark. I could feel a sort of, clenching? not unlike when you suck in your stomach to hit a high note. No wait, it was more.. like a gut feeling but more like a flexing of a muscle you didn't know you could flex. When I tried relaxing the feeling, my vision went dark again and the smells stop being so pungent.

"huh.." I tried to flex that muscle again, the phantom twinge of it helping me focus on what I was trying to clench. It was a lot like figuring out a new thing that your eyebrows or your ears can do- only you can't physically touch the muscle to practice.

I probably stood still for whole minutes, muscles tensing and relaxing. trying to recreate what I did moments ago.

Finally, it worked but it took far too long to turn it on and far too easy to turn it off. And so I kept walking quietly, and slowly, avoiding directions when the stench of bug or lizard grew too strong. Turning the muscle on and off until it was a lot easier to do.

'Sure, tell yourself that- you're just spasming that muscle- like that time you learned to nose twitch and you couldn't stop for the whole day.'

I completely ignore the intrusive thought even though it's completely true- 'Ha!' . After a while of walking, there was a new smell that wafted through the air, and the grey in my vision started to tint itself with color, but I knew it wasn't because I could see light- No. I could sense heat. And I smelled water. The mineral smell of a hot spring. I ran forward, the soft leather of my boots making my footfalls quiet enough not to echo too far.

I rounded a corner into a cavern, it had pools of water flowing into one another as the cavern sloped upwards, almost like giant steps. An indoor terrace of mineral springs. The water was odd. Looking almost white-hot in the weird heat vision I had going. And yet it wasn't bubbling, there was steam, simmering, but not boiling.

I dared to dip my hand into the water and was surprised to find that it was comfortably warm. the kind of intense heat I'd often take after long hours surfing, muscles sore and legs raw from wax burns on the surfboard. I was tempted to jump right in, but something else drew my attention. a cold spot against the warm floor. shaped like a body. I couldn't see the details with my heat vision, vague shapes, I tried to will my eyes back to the grey monotone. Instead, I got a middle mix of the two, the glow wasn't so oppressive and the grey wasn't so monotone, it was almost enough to see in color, though maybe in a colorblind sort of way.

I looked, and it was a dead body. laying against the wall, fully skeletal, and in no way could it possibly still move even if it was possessed or zombified. just glorified bones stacked onto of each other held on by brittle ligaments and vestiges of ...

Impossible- I know that tactical gear anywhere

Army green camo, standard-issue vest, camelback- the whole deal. It was a soldier- from earth. How in the fuck did they get here? I moved closer to examine the body, careful not to breathe against it- who knows if it could crumble from a stiff breeze. The armor was all intact and dusty but the vest still had his name tag and designation- SP 1105 E.

The color drained from my face at the lack of name. I've written so much historical fiction based around the tumultuous era of earth, I knew what it meant. SP, Synthetic-Personnel 1105 batch E. Whoever this was, they were created in a test tube, like a lab ordered baby made for war. They were said to be ruthless, a mix of genetics to create the perfect fodder for war, designed to 'expire' after 25 years- and they didn't have a soulmark that's for sure.

But they were still people. Born with no parents, taught only to fight. And they died here. In the cold, dark cave.

It didn't feel right to leave them like this.

'But they're dead. We know the standard issue loadout for foot soldiers, they probably have a flashlight and a buncha other eco-tech. S'not like they're gonna use it'

I'm not looting the dead! are you crazy?!

'Better us, who knows where they come from, who knows their truth. They're an earthling like us.'

With I deep sigh and a muttered prayer. I rummaged through their pockets and took the pack that lay behind them. The clatter as the body shifted and fell to the side nearly had my soul jump out of my skin "Pisti yawa- akong kalag-"

The pack didn't have much but there was a surprising amount of personal affects. there was a journal, a pack of playing cards- unopened, a comb that seemed to be made from ivory, and an old music player with its solar battery, the rubber in the accompanying headphones were brittle and the whole thing was un usable but the music player itself was the kind that was built to last with vibration tech that you need only clip on your collarbone to hear the music. I've only ever seen one used by my Lolo. It was positively antique.

this was of course on top of the standard titanium bowie knife, compass and mechanical light that was still serviceable inside the army pack. it didn't have the usual mess kit or med kit that is supposed to be inside it too. Though I was able to find sewing needles and vacuum packed syringes, no idea what to do with those but I'm taking them anyways. There were no guns, which is good and only begs the question of how the fuck this person got here.

and it also begs the same question of how I got here.

I decided to take a breather in the cavern while I wind up the torchlight. Making myself see in the dark was finally putting a strain on my body and I could feel the fatigue in my eyes and face, like a full migraine you can feel coming.

I took a sip from the waterskin and gnawed on some hard jerky- probably druffalo by the taste of it. finally, when the wind up started to get harder to turn I stowed the lever of it and turned it on.

The light blinded me for a moment but I could finally see and- "Holy fuck"

It wasn't just a cavern. I didn't know how I missed it, probably blended well with the dark vision I had, but the walls on the other side of the cavern was metal and concrete, like a wall of a bunker just meshed or clipped through the stone. The dead body was lying against it- and right above where he was leaning against was a sort of, mini pod? behind thick glass, like the kind where test-tube babies were made in. and it had a faint button glowing yellow, so barely there I couldn't have seen it unless I shone the light.

there were a number of things that could be inside that mini pod. A dead baby, a genetic experiment, who the hell knew. Curiosity got the best of me and I spent the next hour working the sharp end of the bowie knife along the grooves where glass met metal and pried open the niche and took the mini pod out. Surprisingly it was plugged into something and when I took it out, there was a whooshing sound. Lights rippled like circuits on stone and the pod the size of a watermelon hissed open I held my breath as the gas inside it revealed... a rock.

Geode like, about the size of a kids soccer ball. In the light, the outside shone iridescent, and it was hefty but not heavy and also oddly warm. Touching the geode felt like it had been coated in some kind of slime, grossed out I dunked it in the lowest, hottest pool and cleaned it up. I could have sworn it wriggled when I placed it in the shallows to wash my hands. I stayed still and watched it for a while but when nothing else happened I shrugged and put it inside my pack.

I placed the flashlight facing the ceiling and picked a different pool. I was covered in dried spider guts and who in the heck can say they WOnt jump into a hot spring while they could.

'Don't you like, have a time-specific thing you need to be doing? like, know, finding the way to the top and getting out of here before ol' Hand does so we won't be married to him?'

I think I can spare 30 minutes for a bath. Besides, we found a compass and a shit ton of existential questions, that alone calls for some bath time introspection.

And I did end up spending more than 30 minutes soaking in the pool. I knew it was safe too, the smell was the exact kind of odor that came from naturally heated pools of water. And After a bit of exploring I knew it must have fed into an underground water system since the pools didn't seem to overflow into the caves. there was a small waterfall in the forest past Wyrmhold that must have been the exit for the water under the mountain as well.

Drying off was actually comfortable, enough heat in the air that the cold wasn't so pressing and only left a brisk feeling, the next few moments were exploring the Music player, discovering that it mostly contained music from classic to the late 2000's there was only a few terra in the thing so it could possibly hold a compendium of music, at least it was arranged by genre. I pressed shuffle.

[Now playing: The Hobbit- By JRR Tolkien. Read By-]

Bless you, SP 1105E

A hero, for sure

It took a few hours following my nose and the scent of snow and cold air before I finally felt a breeze that then turned into a draft wind, howling in the wind tunnel of the cave system. I rushed out into the snow, happy to find that ol' Hand of Kord was nowhere to be found. It was a ledge built or carved out of the mountain, partly shielded from the sides from the bitter wind so high up the frostbacks.

Near the edge stood a giant stone, clearly different from the surroundings, not only for its dark color but its carved obelisk shape. I walked forward, hood up, and was shocked to find the carvings that dressed the stone. A familiar poem on one face and imagery on the rest of the surfaces.

The poem, though written in trade common, I knew at heart. My grandparents had it framed in the living room along with Lolo's war memorabilia. It was Invictus. I brushed my fingers along the words, reciting it in my mind, lingering in the last verse. " ...I am the Master of my Fate, The captain of my Soul"

The imagery caught my attention, beneath the poem was a carving of Wyrmhold and its keepers, Gundrdak, and Faflungen framing the depiction of a small city carved into the mountain base. I lapped around the stone and stood frozen behind it. Written in English, framing an image I didn't think would pull at my soul, I read aloud.

"To any who came after us. Take heart- You are not lost. Your soul will always find its other half."

And carved were two indistinct humanoid forms, palms outstretched to each other. lines appearing in each other's arms- soulmarks appearing where there was none. Almost unbidden the word that Ghost- the spirit of history- used in the trial finally clicked. They had said soulbound .

"what the fuucckkkk...."

It was enough to practically make me run back down the mountain. Which was what basically happened after seeing the stone steps and carved into the rock that led a path down the mountain on the outside- sure there wasn't spiders or deepstalkers but there were snow and ice and wind and the steps did NOT have railings, only the occasional piton driven at waist level every few feet or so.

Coming back down the mountain happened in a blur, I remember there was a vigil on the base of the steps and that I was apparently the first to come down only after 2 nights, which felt wrong. I could have sworn I'd realize if 48 hours had passed but I guessed wrong I suppose.

The merriment hadn't quite started when Utohlak came up to me all imposing like and told me to recite the 'Ancient codex' which was really just the poem Invictus.

I did so, easily.

And then the people of Wyrmhold practically frog marched me to the mess hall. Sometime through the meal, someone started up a rhythm, a familiar one but I couldn't place it. Not until the singing started.

Dovah kiin,
Dovah kiin!
Naalok Zin Los Vahrin
Wah Dein Vokul
Mahfaeraak ahst vaal!

You have Got to be Shitting me- first I think its a different dimension and then its thedas and now everyone is singing skyrim songs

At that point I just surrendered and pointedly not think about the how's and the why's. I sang and drank and hugged and laughed with everyone. There was a false ceremonial moment when Utohlak gave me back the Glaive of the Mountain king. I rose it high and there was roaring cheer, Id fear an avalanche if I wasn't smashed as fuck.

The next morning I woke up in my bed cuddling the glaive and having my face licked by a giant snake gecko thing.

"WHAt the-oof!"

I fell out of the bed. The Gecko thing peaked over the edge and trilled at me, cocking its head questioningly. I groan, possibly still drunk , trying to get up I hear a crunching sound and I look down to see where this lizard probably came from- the rock had hatched.