A Dawn of Dragonfire - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,114

many of them did, but some managed to flee into the south. After the Starlit Demon ate his fill, he vanished back underground; I imagine he'll sleep for a good long while to digest his meal." He winced. "It was bad, Bay. Many Vir Requis died. Too many." His voice dropped to a pained whisper. "Thousands are gone."

Bayrin's breath caught and horror clumped in his throat. "Is… my sister? My parents?"

"They're alive. Your father looks like he was dropped into a nest of weasels, and your mother has seen better days. Lyana is bashed up like an old leather ball after a thousand kicks, but she wouldn't admit it." He smiled softly. "They're here in the temple, wounds tended to."

Relief swept over Bayrin, but grief too. Many Vir Requis died. Too many.

Eyes stinging, he looked outside the window. He watched the morning light fall upon ruins. Clear skies rolled outside, blue without a tinge of smoke. A lump filled his throat, and he swallowed.

"Where…" His voice caught, and he blinked for a moment, unable to speak. "Where is Mori? I want to see her."

Elethor helped him up. Bayrin slung his arm across the king's shoulder, and they walked slowly. Step by step, they left the chamber and moved down a hallway. Wounded filled the hall, lying on makeshift beds. When they passed by chambers, Bayrin saw more wounded inside. Healers rushed back and forth, robes swishing. Many were hurt themselves, faces and limbs bandaged, but they still bustled about, carrying herbs and bandages.

Most of the wounded were Vir Requis, Bayrin saw, but some were Tirans with platinum hair and pained blue eyes. For a moment rage filled Bayrin. Why should they tend to wounded Tirans, the men who had tried to slaughter them? But he only sighed, his rage soon dissipating. Let the bastards live. Let them see the mercy and goodness of those they thought mere reptiles.

Finally they reached a narrow hallway, its wall smashed and its floor strewn with bricks. Two guards in breastplates stood before a doorway, clutching spears. They bowed to Elethor and pulled the door open.

"Go and see her," Elethor said softly. "I'm needed at court, and you two have a lot to discuss." He clutched Bayrin's shoulder, then pulled him into an embrace. "It's good to have you back, friend."

When Bayrin stepped alone into the room, he found himself holding his breath, suddenly sheepish. Their quest north, the battle with the demon of wood and stone, the inferno over Nova Vita… it all seemed like a bad dream to him now. He had kissed Mori on the Crescent Isle, had vowed to protect her, but… back home, in Nova Vita, would she mock him for it? Would they be as before the war—he the ne'er-do-well guard, she the timid princess who shied away at every touch? It felt like waking from a dream, not knowing what the dawn would bring.

She lay in a bed, wrapped in embroidered blankets, her wounds bandaged. When she saw him enter, she smiled wanly and lowered her eyes. The dawn's light kissed her pale cheeks, pink lips, and chestnut hair. She was so beautiful.

Bayrin stepped toward her, hesitant. She looked up at him, then down again, and her eyes dampened. His breath caught, he froze… and then he took three great strides toward her. He found himself embracing her, nearly crushing her in his arms, as she wept against him, soaking his shirt. As the morning's light fell upon them, they kissed with tears and laughter. She touched his cheek, and he couldn't help but cry too; joy and relief swept over him.

"Hi there, Mors," he whispered.

She smiled tremulously, tears on her lips. "Hi there, Bay."

He laughed and pulled her back into his embrace. He rocked her gently in his arms.

"I told you we'd do it," she whispered.

Still holding her, Bayrin looked outside. Burnt trees rose between ashy walls. Buildings lay toppled. But he saw people move between those buildings, lifting fallen bricks, collecting shattered weapons, and sweeping the ash away. It would be a time of pain, he knew, of mourning and grief. But we will rebuild.

He knew then—things would not return to how they had been. He had changed too much. He remembered himself before the phoenix fire—a lowly guard with great parentage. He had watched his sister rise in the ranks of the court, his father lead armies, his mother speak to the stars. And he would joke to hide his pain, run off with Elethor