The dawn crept over the edge of the world, spilling pale light across the forest as Emberis padded silently through the trees. Two souls shared the body that moved with such cautious grace: Emberis, the dragon, and Michael, the man. The rhythm of their steps was the same, but within, two hearts beat—one of ancient fire, one of fragile hope.
They had left the village at first light, wary of the mingled awe and fear in the humans' eyes. Though the people had spoken of dragons with reverence, Michael knew better than to trust too quickly. Emberis, too, had felt the weight of centuries of betrayal in every careful glance.
The forest was alive with dawn's gentle glow. Each footfall was silent on the carpet of leaves, wings shifting restlessly at Emberis's sides. He caught glimmers of gold and green as dawn's light filtered through the boughs, his senses sharp. Inside, Michael watched the world through shared eyes, every rustle of leaves a question he couldn't quite answer.
Stay alert, Michael warned.
Always, Emberis answered, his voice a deep echo in their shared mind.
Michael's thoughts tangled as they moved deeper into the forest. The village, the monument—echoes of a world that had once believed dragons and humans could share the same sky. Could it be true, or was it only another story lost to time? Michael carried the hope of those monuments, even as Emberis carried the memory of blood and fire.
The dragon's instincts were strong, his senses alive to every shifting breeze. Hunger flickered within Emberis—hunger for the chase, for the taste of warm prey. Michael felt it too, an ache that pulsed beneath his skin. But he kept it at bay, breathing deeply to steady the warring parts of himself.
Control, he reminded them both.
Yes, Emberis agreed, though there was an edge of longing in his voice.
The forest began to change around them. The trees grew older, trunks gnarled with centuries of life. Moss clung to them in thick carpets, and the air grew cool and damp. Here, the forest remembered.
Emberis felt it first—a tingling along his scales, a whisper of ancient power that clung to the stones and the soil. He paused, claws digging into the soft earth.
Do you feel it? Emberis murmured.
I do, Michael replied, his voice a flicker of wonder in their mind. Old magic. A memory in the earth.
They pressed forward into the shadows, emerging into a clearing that felt older than memory itself. In the center stood a monument, worn and cracked by time. The glyphs were nearly erased, but even so, Emberis felt them resonate deep within.
Michael reached out, claws tracing the faint lines. Dragon glyphs. Older than the ones in the village.
Older than the war, Emberis whispered. A promise written in stone.
They both fell silent, the weight of centuries heavy around them. Emberis felt the pulse of old battles, truces that had turned to dust. Michael felt the ache of something precious, a fragile dream lost to the fury of fear.
This place was made by those who believed, Emberis said at last. A binding of dragon and human, written in blood and hope.
Do you think there are others who remember? Michael asked.
Perhaps, Emberis said. Or perhaps they are gone. Lost to the madness of the war. But the world is wide, and not all dragons are bound by the same rage.
Michael held to that thought like a lifeline. The war had taken so much—land, life, trust. But here, in this quiet clearing, the possibility of something different still lingered.
If there's even a chance… Michael began.
Then it is worth fighting for, Emberis finished.
They turned away, leaving the monument to its silent vigil. As they walked, Michael felt Emberis's strength in every measured step—the power of the dragon, held in check by the man within. It was a balance they had learned slowly, but one that felt more natural each day.
Do you remember the world before the war? Michael asked softly as they paused to drink from a stream.
Emberis was quiet, his eyes distant. I remember the sky and the sun. The warmth of the wind, the taste of clouds. And… laughter. Humans who shared their stories with dragons, who did not see us as monsters.
And then?
Then came fear. Emberis's voice was a low growl in the dark of their mind. Fear turned songs to screams. It set the world ablaze—and once the fire began, it consumed everything.
Michael felt the weight of those words settle in his chest. Fear was a poison, one that seeped into every crack. He could feel Emberis's memory of it, could taste the bitterness of betrayal in the dragon's soul.
As the day wore on, the forest opened into meadows bright with wildflowers. Emberis paused, lifting his head to taste the wind. Michael felt it too—a sharp, acrid scent that cut through the sweetness of blooms.
Smoke, Emberis said, a low growl rumbling in his throat. Not a hearth fire.
They approached cautiously, finding a burned-out camp at the edge of the meadow. The scent of blood and fear still clung to the air, sharp and metallic.
Bandits, Michael thought grimly.
Or worse, Emberis answered, his tail twitching.
They picked through the wreckage, claws sifting ashes and splintered crates. Michael's stomach twisted at the sight—humans preying on their own kind. The forest held many dangers, but the cruelty of men was the oldest of them all.
We must be ready, Emberis said as they turned away.
We will be, Michael answered.
That night, they made camp beneath ancient oaks, the firelight dancing in Emberis's golden eyes. The two of them lay coiled around the small blaze, each lost in thought. In the silence, they felt the duality of their being: two voices sharing one body, two souls forging a single path.
Do you think the humans in the village truly believe in peace? Michael asked at last.
Belief is a powerful thing, Emberis said. It can build kingdoms—or tear them down. If they believe, then perhaps it is enough. For now.
Michael stared into the fire, the flickering flames reflecting in his human memories and dragon's dreams. I want to believe too.
Then hold to that, Emberis urged. The world is changing. And in that change… there is always hope.
In the quiet that followed, Michael drifted into sleep. Within him, Emberis kept watch, his thoughts a slow rumble beneath the silence. They were two beings, bound by an ancient promise—and for tonight, at least, that promise was enough.