The old dragonkin stopped beside a fallen log and crouched with a grunt, dragging it a short distance until it sat where the slope broke the wind. He muttered under his breath, words Ray couldn’t catch, and flicked two fingers toward a shallow scrape of dirt. Flame took. A small campfire bloomed into life with a neat, controlled heat that didn’t spit sparks or throw smoke into Ray’s face.
The elder lowered himself onto the log like his bones had learned to complain before they even moved. He lifted his chin at the ground beside him. “Sit, laddy.”
Ray sat. He kept his sword close, placed the sack at his hip instead of behind him, and let his shoulders sag just enough to stop trembling. Miu settled in near his knee, ears swivelling, eyes cutting between the elder’s hands and the dark beyond the firelight.
The elder reached into a pouch and drew out a tiny glass vial, no bigger than Ray’s thumb. It had a cap like cheap metal and liquid inside that bubbled faintly as he tilted it. He held it out without ceremony.
“Here, boy,” the elder said. “Drink this. It’ll remind you of home, I suspect.”
Ray took the vial and, out of habit more than caution, raised his hand and used Identify.
====================================
Carbonated Drink
====================================
A sugar heavy drink made with carbonated water.
Rarity: Trash
Item Rank: F
Attributes:
- None
====================================
Ray blinked, then looked back up at the elder. “You’ve got soft drink?”
The elder’s mouth twitched like he was amused at himself for landing the hit. “Aye. Heard tell it’s popular on your world. Thought it sounded like madness.”
Ray uncapped it and took it in one swallow. The fizz hit first, then the sugar, then the sharp artificial bite. It was trying so hard to be cola but it just didn’t taste right.
Ray coughed once, eyes watering. “That’s… yeah. That’s cola. Sort of. The real one’s better. Worse, too. Proper addictive.”
The elder snorted. “Too sweet for my liking.” He stared into the little fire as if judging it for existing. “Still. It does the job. Makes a man remember there are other lives than this one.”
Ray rolled the empty vial between his fingers. The taste lingered on his tongue, cheap and familiar, and it did something unpleasant to his chest. He could almost picture a petrol station fridge. He could almost picture a normal day where the biggest problem was whether to buy chips. The memory didn’t soothe him. It made the gap wider.
He swallowed and forced the question out before it turned into silence. “So… what’s your name?”
The elder turned his head slightly, studying Ray’s face like he was deciding whether the question was worth answering. “Vaeldren,” he said at last. “That’ll do.”
Ray nodded. “Ray.”
“Aye. I gathered.” Vaeldren shifted the staff resting against his leg, the wood worn smooth by years of grip. “Now. You’ve got that look on ye.”
Ray frowned. “What look?”
“The look that says you’re about to explode,” Vaeldren said calmly. “Or you’re about to ask the wrong questions in the wrong order.”
Ray stared at the small fire until the flames blurred. The questions were there, crowding behind his teeth. Some of them were practical. Some of them were rage. Some of them were grief in disguise. “Fine,” he said. “Explain the rules.”
Vaeldren gave him a long, unimpressed stare. “Which rules? The world’s rules, the System’s rules, or the rules of not getting your throat opened while you sleep?”
“All of them,” Ray snapped, then immediately regretted the edge in his voice. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry.”
Vaeldren didn’t look offended. He looked faintly pleased. “Good. There’s the spine. Keep it.” He tapped his staff once against the ground. “First. Identify.”
Ray shifted. “Why can people use it on me whenever they like, but I can’t use it on anyone who matters?”
Vaeldren’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “First off, I didn’t use Identify on you. I could have, easy enough. I chose not to.” His gaze flicked to Miu for half a beat, then back to Ray. “It’s considered rude in peace. In war, it’s considered useful. We’re not in peace.”
Ray opened his mouth, but Vaeldren lifted two fingers.
“Don’t interrupt, laddy,” Vaeldren said, voice still even. “If you want the workings we know, let me speak.”
Ray shut his mouth with a click. “Alright.”
Vaeldren leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, and spoke like he’d said all of this before to people who hadn’t survived long enough to use it. “Identify is a tool. A sharp one. It saves your life when you use it early, and it gets you killed when you trust it like it’s truth carved into stone. It tells you what something is willing to show you, what the world is willing to translate, and what your own skill can pry loose.”
Ray’s jaw tightened. “So when it fails, it’s because—”
“Because you’re weak,” Vaeldren said bluntly. “Because they’re strong. Because they’ve learned to hide. Because you’re tired. Because the world’s messy.” He sat back. “There’s no single reason. There’s no clean ladder where level ten always beats level nine. People learn. They adapt. They get subskills from practice, from habits, from panic, from obsession. The System likes patterns, but it doesn’t hand them out like a ledger.”
Ray absorbed that, unhappy because it meant more work. “So how do people hide? Layla blocked me. You block me. Most of them can.”
Vaeldren grunted. “There are skills for it. There are tricks. There are artefacts.” His eyes hardened. “And there are people who don’t hide at all, because they don’t need to. If someone’s in your face with power and they don’t care if you know it, that’s a warning by itself.”
Ray stared at the fire. His mind kept snagging on the camp’s edge, on the placement, on how many eyes had tracked him the moment he stepped into the light. “So I should just… Identify everyone anyway.”
“Aye,” Vaeldren said. “Use it. Level it. Learn what it feels like when it lies. Learn what it feels like when it tells the truth. People will tell you it’s rude.” His mouth twitched. “Let them. Rudeness is cheaper than dying.”
Ray let out a breath and felt Miu brush his shin, a steadying pressure.
Vaeldren’s voice dropped slightly, not softer, just more serious. “Second. Don’t just collect ways to hide. Start collecting ways to defend yourself.” His gaze locked to Ray’s. “Not just from a sword thrust. From a curse. From a skill that makes you forget you’re fighting. From a spell that turns your legs to water. From a merchant’s smile. From a priest’s promise. From anything that reaches inside your head.”
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Ray’s throat went tight. “You’re talking about the System.”
“I’m talking about everything,” Vaeldren said. “But aye. Especially the System.”
Ray’s jaw clenched hard. “Fuck the System.”
Vaeldren didn’t flinch at the language. He nodded once like it was a sensible prayer. “Aye. Now you’re speaking straight.”
Ray shifted, anger tightening his shoulders. “Layla talked like your people fought it for a long time.”
Vaeldren stared into the flames for a moment. In the firelight his scars looked deeper, his age heavier. “We did. Some of us still do.” His grip tightened on the staff. “And some of us surrendered. Not this camp. Not these ones. The ones who stayed behind when the cities fell. They didn’t flip in a day. They didn’t wake up with glowing eyes and start chanting. They just… got tired. Hungry. Frightened. The System offered structure. Food. Safety. Power. Rules that made the terror feel organised. What you truly need to understand is that the System doesn’t just fight openly. It uses, it prods. It builds armies to conquer.”
Ray’s stomach churned.
Vaeldren’s gaze flicked to Ray again. “That’s what you should fear most. Not the beasts it puppets. Not the things it directly pushes like a hand in a glove. Those you can recognise sooner or later. You can fight them.” His voice hardened. “The scarier ones are the System-aligned. People who live by its rules because it makes their days easier. People who start thinking in its language. People actively helping its goal because assimilation is better to them than death. They don’t look wrong. They don’t wear a sign. They don’t always show up as anything on Identify. They smile. They bargain. They recruit. They preach.”
Ray felt Miu tense at his side, her ears angling back as if the word aligned carried a scent.
“And if you’re unlucky,” Vaeldren continued, “they’re your family. Your friends. Your leaders. They’ll tell you surrender is reasonable. They’ll tell you compromise is maturity. They’ll call it survival.” He spat to the side. “Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s a slow death with applause.”
Ray stared at the fire until he realised his hands were trembling again. He forced them still by gripping the edge of his bedroll.
Vaeldren didn’t press. He simply let the truth sit there, heavy and unhelpful.
After a moment, Ray asked the thing that had been gnawing at him since Layla’s earlier words. “You said war. Who’s fighting who?”
Vaeldren’s eyes narrowed. “Everyone. No one. Depends where you stand. There are races that resist. Races that bargain. Races that pretend neutrality until the System offers them a better deal.” He shifted, then added, “And there are those who fight it without calling it by name. They think they’re fighting monsters, or raids, or bad luck. They don’t see the pattern until their city’s already half gone.”
Ray’s mind flashed to Finrial. To the talk of envoys, of village politics, of complacency. “So the dragonkin—”
“Are almost extinct,” Vaeldren said flatly. “We were proud. We were stubborn. We paid. At least kind of. There’s still plenty of Dragonkin, only… they’re part of the System now, follow its rules… Actively work and fight for it.” He glanced toward the main fires where Layla’s laugh had risen earlier, sharp and loud, then died into something quieter. “Layla’s still got teeth. Most of us are just trying to keep the young ones breathing.”
Ray swallowed hard. “And you?”
Vaeldren’s mouth twitched. “Me? I’m an old bastard with too many memories.” He tapped his staff once, like punctuation. “Now. You wanted to understand the world. You’ll get pieces of it tonight. The rest comes with time, and you don’t have much of that.”
Ray watched Vaeldren carefully. “You’re choosing what to tell me.”
“Aye.” Vaeldren’s gaze was steady. “Because you’re exhausted, and you’re raw, and the moment I open the wrong door in your head you’ll go sprinting into the dark to get yourself killed.”
Ray flinched because it was too close to the thought he’d been trying not to admit.
Vaeldren didn’t soften. “Third. Dragonkin.”
Ray blinked. “What about them?”
“You’re curious,” Vaeldren said. “I saw your eyes when you stepped into camp. That’s not just fear. That’s a man staring at a new world and trying to grab it with both hands.” He gestured vaguely toward the fires. “Ask.”
Ray hesitated. Grief and curiosity sat side by side in his chest like two knives. “Layla said dragonkin come from dragons.”
Vaeldren nodded. “Dragons can bond. They can wear shapes. Not perfectly. They keep parts of themselves. Tail. Scales. The feel of heat behind the eyes.” His voice turned drier. “They also have appetites that don’t care about politics.”
Ray glanced at Miu without thinking.
Miu’s eyes narrowed, offended.
Vaeldren continued, “A bonded dragon can take the shape of many races. They can breed in those shapes. The offspring are dragonkin.” He looked at Ray like he expected a reaction.
Ray’s face twisted. “So… dragonkin can come from any race?”
“Aye.” Vaeldren’s mouth twitched. “And dragonkin still look like dragonkin. Scales. Snout. Tail. No matter what the parent wore that night.”
Ray let out a slow breath. “That’s… a lot.”
Vaeldren shrugged. “So is the fact your world’s apparently full of sugar water and metal birds. You’ll live.”
Ray stared into the fire, then asked, quieter, “Why are there so few of you?”
Vaeldren didn’t answer right away. He watched the flame, then the dark beyond it, as if making sure no one else was close enough to hear every word. “Because we fought. And we bled. Then, our council decided it was too much. They decided for the good of the race they’re better off slaves than dead.” He lifted his chin toward the main camp. “These are the ones who ran. The ones who refused to kneel. There were more. There aren’t now.”
Ray felt his throat tighten. “Layla said other races are falling too.”
“Aye,” Vaeldren said. “Waedra are hard pressed on the front. Dark Elves have lost cities. The High Elves…” He exhaled through his nose. “They made their bargain early. They thought power was worth the price. They thought they were above corruption. Now they’re gone as anything I’d call free.”
Ray’s chest tightened. “So how do you stop it?”
Vaeldren’s gaze sharpened. “You fight together. You reject it together. You stop feeding it bodies and worship and obedience.” His mouth twisted. “But that requires races that hate each other to stand shoulder to shoulder. Pride makes a poor shield.”
Ray thought of Finrial again, the quiet village mindset, the way people ignored distant wars until the war walked into their street. “And if you don’t fight together?”
“Then you get picked apart,” Vaeldren said. “One city at a time. One clan at a time. One person at a time.”
Ray sat with that, the fire cracking softly between them, the world feeling too big for one human body.
Vaeldren’s tone shifted, practical again. “Now. There’s one more thing you need to hear tonight.”
Ray’s eyes lifted. “What?”
Vaeldren’s gaze held his. “You will meet people who seem kind. People who offer you safety. People who offer you power. You will be tempted to hand them your trust because you’re starving for it.” He tapped his staff lightly against the dirt. “Don’t hand it away in one night. Build it. Test it. Keep your blade close. Keep your mind closer.”
Ray’s jaw clenched. “You’re saying you don’t trust me.”
Vaeldren snorted. “I don’t trust anyone I met this week. Not even Layla, and I’ve known her longer than you’ve been alive.” His eyes flicked toward Miu. “And before you get offended, laddy, that includes myself.”
Ray stared at him, then nodded once. It was grim, but it was honest.
Vaeldren rose with a grunt, joints complaining, and stamped dirt onto the edge of the fire’s ring to keep it neat. “That’s enough for tonight.” He turned his head slightly, listening to the camp behind them. “If you’re still breathing in the morning, you can start asking the bigger questions.”
Ray’s voice came out rough. “Will you answer them?”
Vaeldren’s mouth twitched. “Aye. I like talking. Keeps the dead quiet.”
He started walking back toward the main fires without waiting for Ray to follow, leaving Ray with the small heat and the cold edge of the camp.
Ray stayed there a moment longer, staring into the coals until they dimmed, then stood and returned to where Layla had pointed earlier. He laid his bedroll down where the ground was a little flatter, placed the sword within reach, and kept the sack strap across his chest because taking it off felt like letting go.
Miu followed and circled twice before settling, but she didn’t curl up properly. She stayed half-upright, ears turning, eyes tracking the dark as if the forest might decide to remember them again.
Is everything alright, Master?
Ray let out a breath through his nose. His throat felt scraped raw, not just from running. No, he sent back, honest because he didn’t have the energy to lie to her. I don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t know what I’m meant to do.
Miu’s tail flicked once. She waited, patient in the way animals were when they cared and didn’t know how to fix something.
Ray’s fingers found the sack strap again, thumb rubbing the worn leather. Vaeldren talks like this is war, Ray sent. Like the only question is how you survive it. But I’m not dragonkin. I’m not… anything. I’m a human that got dropped into this mess, and now I’m lying on the edge of a refugee camp with a sword I didn’t earn and a sack that belongs to someone else. His jaw tightened. They saved us from the rats. That’s real. Layla could’ve left us to die and didn’t. But saving their entire race isn’t my job. Is it?
Miu shifted closer and pressed her shoulder against his leg, firm enough that he felt the weight through his trousers. You keep asking if it’s your job. You should ask what you can live with.
Ray’s mouth twitched, humourless. That’s not an answer.
It is, Miu replied, immediate and stubborn. You just don’t like it.
He stared down at her, at the tension still held in her frame, the stiffness in her movements she tried not to show. She’d fought. She’d been bitten. She’d run until her body wanted to fall apart. She was still here, still watching the dark, still acting like she could protect him from the whole world if she tried hard enough.
Ray looked back toward the main camp again. We’re outsiders, he sent. Did you see where we were placed? Edge of camp. Away from the kids. Away from the old ones sleeping. Vaeldren didn’t bring me to a fire in the middle. He brought me out there. Like they’re being careful. His voice roughened in his own head. By the end of the night no one really wanted to sit with us. Not unless Layla told them to.
Miu’s ears angled back, not in anger, but in something like understanding. They’re scared. They’re hungry and tired and they’ve lost people. You’re new. You smell like blood and rats. You carry someone else’s things. You swear at the System like it’s a person. Of course they’re careful.
Ray’s gaze dropped to the sack again, and his chest tightened. Teddy should be here, he sent, and the thought came out too flat, like his mind still didn’t want to let the shape of it settle. He should be sitting at that fire, calling them idiots, taking their food, telling me what to do. His hand clenched on the strap until his knuckles whitened. And instead it’s me, and I don’t know how to do any of it.
Miu climbed onto the bedroll and pushed her head under his hand, insisting. Ray’s fingers found the familiar spot behind her ear and scratched, slow at first, then more firmly as her purr started up like a motor that refused to die.
Master, she sent, and there was something steadier in it now, like she was choosing to hold him up. When you entered my den after killing my family, I was frightened as hell. I wanted to claw your eyes out. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide where you couldn’t reach me. But sometimes you just do what you need to do, even when it feels wrong. Her purr deepened, a vibration through his palm. You didn’t know what you were doing then either. You still did it.
Ray swallowed. That was different.
No, Miu said, and she pressed closer, pinning his hand to her fur like she was anchoring him. It isn’t. You’re in a den that isn’t yours. The creatures inside are watching. You don’t know the rules. You’re scared. That’s the same. The only difference is that now you think you have to decide everything right away.
Ray stared at the dark beyond the camp, then at the faint shapes of dragonkin moving around the fires. Vaeldren wants a home, Ray sent. Layla’s leading them somewhere. Maybe to elves. Maybe somewhere else. If we go with them, we get shelter. Food. People who can fight. Answers. If we don’t… it’s just us again. Forest. Monsters. The System. His jaw tightened. But if we stay, are we signing up to die with them?
Miu’s purr softened. She tilted her head, eyes half-lidded, and for a moment she looked like she was back in her den instead of a war camp. We don’t have to decide tonight. You can stay because you need a place to breathe. You can listen. You can learn. You can leave later if you must. Then her tone sharpened, familiar. And if anyone tries to hurt you, I will bite them. Comforting bite. Supportive bite. Very polite.
A sound escaped Ray that almost qualified as a laugh, broken at the edges. He scratched behind her ear again, slower now, and felt his shoulders drop a fraction. Thanks, he sent, and it came out rougher than he wanted. I mean it. It means a lot to me.
Miu’s purr turned triumphant. No worries, Master. No matter what you do, you’ve always got me. I’ll never leave you. Not because it’s my job. Because I chose it.
Ray looked down at her, at the steady rise and fall of her breathing, and for the first time since the cave it felt like he could let his body stop moving without dying for it. The decision didn’t resolve itself. The questions didn’t vanish. The grief still sat heavy in his chest, waiting for the next quiet moment to sink its claws in.
But Miu was warm against his side, purring like the world hadn’t ended, and that was enough to keep him upright.
Ray lay back on the bedroll with the sword within reach, the sack strap still across his chest. The camp noises faded slowly. The wind moved through scrub above them. His eyes stayed open longer than they should have, tracking shadows and listening for skittering that never came.
Sleep, Miu sent after a while, voice drowsy now. If you don’t, I’ll bite you.
Ray’s mouth twitched, and he let his eyes close. Alright.
He didn’t sleep easily.
But he slept.