"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
His son had asked him about love and Savior had told him about Tephra.
He had told him about the way his own parents had made him a protector. They had built him to defend their home, crafted a dragon fit to battle dragons. Savior had told him how his magic was tethered to the earth there, how the earth lived in his veins and in his bones. He had told him about how he dredged his happiness out of the dirt, his lifeblood out of the lava that cut rivers across the terrain.
He could have told him about all of the ways he loved the boy’s mother, too. How naturally it had happened, how she had emerged from the snow like a dream, how he had not wanted to leave her side since. But Worship was just a boy and Savior understood his love for his home better than he understood his love for Casimira.
Casimira, whose company he has so scarcely been without since the twins were born. He ventures off today, though, because he knows they are safe and he imagines that she must crave a bit of solitude. He knows how oppressive his company can be.
He follows a lava flow to the river, using the deep orange glow as a guiding light through the crushing darkness. They have remained largely untouched by the malicious things that he has heard lurk in the shadows, fortunately. Isilya had lit the lanterns, lending them light, and he has to believe that this helped to keep the monsters at bay. He has been prepared, though, ready to defend his home the way he had been bred to. While he had been born in a time of war, it had come to an end shortly after his birth and he had never really had to consider what he might do if he were called to arms.
It has been quiet so far but he is under no illusion that his purpose in life is anything other than protecting Tephra. He can feel it stir just beneath the surface of his skin as he reaches the river, edging his way away from the place where the lava seeps into the water and dips his head to drink.
SAVIOR
you remind me who i was and who i want to be
you remind me that though not whole, i'm not empty
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
Tephra feels quiet without Svedka’s humor. She shares a kindred heart with her brother, a wilderness that has not been tamed by the ways of life. And their lives have been similar in many ways; the spirit of adventure has guided them, the emptiness of Death has swept them away, the sparkle of optimism has shimmered in their eyes. Without his presence the darkness feels even darker.
Although she is beginning to meet the residents of Tephra, the majority of her time is spent in solitude. With Svedka gone, Warden is her only family within the volcanic kingdom. And he, too, has become a phantom. Wishbone had watched the way his stoic face grew even more serious, and she saw the light dim from his blue eyes. She has seen these signs before, even reflected back at her when she was thin and heavy beneath the weight of twins and the Plague.
So she wanders Tephra without her brothers to keep her company. On this day, Wishbone decides to start a walk where the river flows into the ocean and travels upstream. The water winds through the jungle undergrowth, crossing lava flows and small waterfalls. It grows narrow and then widens again, and Wishbone spends most of her walk splashing through the shallows.
As she rounds a bend in the river’s route, Wishbone spots the shape of another at the bank. His scent is unfamiliar, but Tephra lies plain on his skin. A smile winds across her dark purple mouth, and perhaps if the sun were out that smile would reflect the light. “Hello, stranger,” she calls out in a friendly tone. The purple mare moves close enough to see the details of the stallion’s face, and a bird conveniently swoops to land on a tree branch above their heads. This simple, ironic gesture makes her smile widen. “I’m Wishbone.”
He tenses at the sound of splashing water and abruptly lifts his head, his muscles pulling taut in unison. He can feel the dragon scales rippling beneath the surface of his flesh in preparation of the shift from equine to dragon. But the form that comes swimming out of the darkness is that of a horse and he immediately relaxes, releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Her greeting is warm and his expression softens around a smile, this glimpse of light such a stark contrast to the darkness that gathers and creases around them. They are strangers indeed, but he trusts that she calls Tephra home considering how easily she moves across the terrain. “Hello, Wishbone,” he returns her greeting, ducking his head with that same warm smile. He is grateful for her overt friendliness, relieved to find another reprieve from the stress of life in these terrible shadows.
“My name is Savior,” he tells her, studying the purple plains of her face through the darkness, only briefly distracted by the bird that alights in a branch overhead. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. And he means it, certainly, though he wants to add that he wishes it could be under different circumstances. In the sunshine, definitely. In Tephra’s full glory. The plants are dying without the sunlight to nourish them and he grieves their deaths. He cannot save them. Even the flowers in his hair have wilted.
“Have you been in Tephra long?” he asks, hoping it doesn’t sound rude. He has been in Tephra his entire life, designed as he had been to protect it. His powers weaken the further he strays from its borders. He is tethered to this land. He suspects that if she had been born here he would have met her already. Or, at the very least, seen her from afar.
SAVIOR
you remind me who i was and who i want to be
you remind me that though not whole, i'm not empty
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
Despite her knowledge of Tephra’s history and landscape, Wishbone has not called the volcanic kingdom home for very long. She can say Tephra is where she found her legs, where she discovered what it meant to be loved and encouraged. She can say Nerine is where she learned what independence truly meant. She knows the lands outside of Beqanna taught her how much she loves these familiar pieces of the world. But Wishbone has always felt like home was more of a feeling than a place. Her true home was found in the smell of sun and wind on Warrick’s wings, and the deep blue clarity of Wolfbane’s eyes, and in the wind-chapped faces of her Nerinian sisters.
Perhaps it is her wandering spirit that leaves her untethered. Or maybe the broad grasp of her heart gives her too much room to feel secure in just one place. Tephra, Nerine, the wilderness, Ischia. They all blend together; her memories of the places are a kaleidoscope of faces she has once called home.
Savior. It is a strong name, but it does not spark a memory. Wishbone’s knowledge of Tephra has a large, dark gap between her childhood and the present. And while Lilliana had filled her in on the most recent political activities, there is still much she does not know about her childhood kingdom. “I’ve been back for a little while now.” She is grateful she had come back just before the eclipse, though she is sure her feet would have found the black shores when the darkness descended anyway.
Wishbone’s amber eyes find Savior, studying the lines of his face and wilting flowers tangled in his mane. “I grew up here when Warrick was king. Svedka and Warden are my half-brothers, actually.” She knows many families call the security of kingdoms home but avoid participating in politics. The purple pangare doesn’t blame them — Tephra is undoubtedly safer than any of the common lands. If she could have a second chance at children, Wishbone is confident she would raise them here. “And what about you? You strike me as a Tephra native.”
It piques his interest to hear her say that she has been back. This implies that she’d been here before and he is delighted that he does not have to ask her to elaborate, that she offers the information without prompting. She grew up here. He studies her a little more closely (as closely as he can in this dark), trying to determine whether she appears younger or older than he is or if their childhoods might have overlapped. He does not remember a king called Warrick, so he determines that her childhood must have come before his but he calls no attention to this, only smiles and nods his understanding.
(If he had known Warrick, he would have understood the connection between the once-king, the current king, Svedka, and the mare stood before him. Perhaps if he thought about it, he might have even been able to make the connection on his own.)
“I can’t say that I remember Warrick,” he tells her, his head tilted slightly. He knows Warden, of course, they all do. “Is your brother the reason you came back?” he asks, eyes bright with curiosity.
He shifts his weight and smiles in response to her assessment. He does not know what it is about him that gives her that impression, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. He is proud to be a Tephran, proud to seem like a native. He nods, smiling still. “I am,” he says, “my parents made my sister and I protectors of Tephra, our magic is tethered to the kingdom.” Although, even if it were not, he does not think he would have ever felt any impulse to leave. “Even so, I don’t think I could ever call any other place home.”
His smile begins to fade from his mouth then but it remains in his draconic eyes.
“What about you?” he asks, “where have your travels taken you, Wishbone?”
YOU REMIND ME WHO I WAS AND WHO I WANT TO BE
YOU REMIND ME THOUGH NOT WHOLE, I’M NOT EMPTY
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
It takes Wishbone a moment to think about her answer to Savior’s question. Her decision to remain in Tephra had been a quick one, and she isn’t entirely sure why she made it. At first, she had come to find Svedka — to tell him about the past few years of her life and to hear about the past years of his. Then she had stayed longer to meet Warden, and he had encouraged her to stay. So she had. Deep inside, Wishbone might admit that she hasn’t put herself back in Nerine because of the changes, because of her failure as Khalessi, because of her absence in society.
Eventually, she settles by saying, “Warden did ask me to stay, but I missed being here.” Her amber eyes find the stream, watching the current slowly tug the water away from them. The vibrant colors of the lantern-bird reflect in the stream. It reminds Wishbone of the sun rising over the ocean, and her heart twists. “I know I would have come here once the darkness came if I wasn’t here already,” she admits.
Savior’s explanation of his allegiances brings a smile to her purple face. Initially, because he confirms her assumptions about Tephra (they are a safe and protected kingdom) and secondly because she had been right in her judgment. A stranger in these lands would not seem as relaxed as Savior appears to be. “A protector, huh? What magic ties you to Tephra?”
His question makes her pause again. Her feet have taken her many places, and Wishbone has only just begun to unravel the stories. She has spent years with the adventures tucked close to her heart… In fact, no one knew about her death until Svedka, and that retelling happened six years after her return to Life. Wishbone has always shared freely, but at this moment, she suddenly recognizes the fact that she doesn’t have many friends.
Her closest ones have either died or killed.
“I used to lead Nerine,” she begins, “but I was young, and the crown didn’t fit right. So I left and explored beyond Beqanna for a while. Eventually, I stayed in Ischia with someone who gave me two daughters and then drowned me in the ocean.” Wishbone’s throat used to tighten up when she thought about that day — the saltwater crowding her lungs, filling her up and pulling her down all at once — but now she is confident. Her death is a part of her stories, another lesson learned. “I died, and after six years, I made it back to life. It took me a while to process what happened, but after another six years, I came back here.”
He understands, certainly. He has seen many places and none have ever felt safer than the jungles of Tephra. (There is a sense of security here that exists entirely separate from the magic that tethers him to it, he knows.) He nods, smiles, casts a glance around this impenetrable darkness but he does not need the help of the lantern-bird or the draconic vision to see because he knows every inch of this jungle intimately. He could navigate it in his sleep.
He draws his focus back to her face, cast into sharp relief by the soft light glowing overhead, at the sound of her question. There is no judgment in it and her smile is kind. “When Tephra was attacked by dragons, my parents thought the best way to protect it was with a dragon force of their own. So, they crafted my twin sister and I out of my mother’s plants,” he explains. Perhaps it is a strange thing to understand that there is a specific purpose for one’s existence, but it is something he has always understood.
He was born a protector. First of Tephra, then of Casimira, now of their children. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.
It is not lost on him, the way she pauses, and there is some part of him that worries that he’s asked the wrong thing. He is on the verge of apologizing, insisting that she need not answer if she’s not comfortable, when she begins to speak and he closes his mouth up tight. He watches her intently, head tilted slightly as he listens closely to the information she offers.
His heart soars when she mentions her children and then plummets when she speaks of her drowning. He swallows thickly, concern darkening his brow as she continues. He knows there is nothing he can say to offer her any comfort, so he merely draws in a long breath and eventually nods. “You are an inspiration, Wishbone,” he tells her, “to have brought yourself back from death the way you did.”
He thinks of Casimira and what she went through.
“It takes a long of strength to do what you did.”
YOU REMIND ME WHO I WAS AND WHO I WANT TO BE
YOU REMIND ME THOUGH NOT WHOLE, I’M NOT EMPTY
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
Savior explains his birthright, and Wishbone wonders what he feels, knowing what his purpose is. She’s always thought there is a purpose for everyone, but she’s never assumed they’ve all known what it was. Most of the time, it seems their purpose is only discovered once the time has already passed. When they can reflect and realize how the stones of life have turned to pave the way.
Wishbone can’t say she’s a protector in the same way Savior is, but she knows there is a bigger purpose for her ferocity and wilderness and optimism.
His heroism is not lost on her; whether he has had to protect Tephra yet or not, she can imagine the responsibility of knowing he is born to protect the kingdom can be heavy. The purple mare has always been willing to die for what she loves, whether family or kingdom, and she remembers when that weight had been difficult to bear as a child. It was one reason why she left Nerine; the responsibility of protecting lives was too heavy for her young spirit. Wishbone’s head dips as she says, “Thank you for your bravery and service, Savior.”
Her eyes are warm at his words after her story. She doesn’t tell him for pity, and nor does she feel ashamed of it. Each experience is an important part of her life. “It almost ruined me,” she says thoughtfully, “but I’m grateful for the experiences I’ve had, as hard as they’ve been.” Wishbone drops her mouth to the stream, enjoying the brisk taste on her tongue. When she raises her head, her gaze peers into the darkness surrounding them. “Now, I’d love to see some of your favorite places of our home.”
