The sound of the breezing ocean crashing upon the shores, with the rain trickling, trying to soothe the emotionless face of a silver-haired elf. His face was skewed upright. He was looking for any answer from the skies. Yet it still hung with a sense of depravation.
“Where were the people who were supposed to save us?”
Aerdran was searching hopelessly for an answer. Anything. Anything at all. He looked to the horizon. He may have looked to the sky for an answer, but deep down he had hoped to the best scenario that his father may have had escaped.
But he hadn’t.
The sickly culmination of fel and the elven marble architecture was so tiny in the horizon. The churning emerald skies thundering gave reemergence to a chill down Aerdran’s spine.
Terror. Fear. A sense of uncertainty scared Aerdran to his bones. Everyone’s lives were his burden. Just as it had been Aeren’s burden on the Broken Shore.
The moment he had seen his father be taken along with his mother being eternally cursed, something in him had snapped. The usual jolly drake that enjoyed finding the joy of life in kinship and mischievous acts vanished that day.
Nothing of him had remained, not even a sliver. All that was on his mind was how he would survive the next hour, the next day, not only for himself. But for everybody.
Did we have enough rations? Did we avoid assailants? Did I cover my tracks enough? Did I assure the others did as well? Do we got enough supplies if someone becomes sick? What am I supposed to predict, supposed to stop?
Thoughts like these tore Aerdran up. Everyone had looked to him to be the one, who is to turn this table around. To lead them into reclaiming their old lives. To reclaim their lost happiness of how they felt at peace at Mithres Alymna under another leader. How could he possibly ever do that?
His mother wasn’t here either to advise him. Hestiastrasza had left to make sure her family and her child was safe, then she would come back.
Aerdran wasn’t either the most senior of the organization. He was only a few years old. People following the Broken Shore incident elected and looked to him for guidance on what to do next. Aerdran had to find his own answer to the situation that Heartwing stood in and what could make them all survive to the next morning rise.
Something however replaced those feelings of doubt. Aerdran was recollecting himself to what must be done now.
“Every passing day. We must strive to slay them at any cost.” Aeren’s voice inside his head murmured
There can be no compromises, there can be no forgiveness for what Helius and his accomplishes have done.
“ I worry that my reluctant heart will bring to light a weakness that Helius will exploit, that he will bend. I cannot be naive now. I cannot cry over my father or of my mother or of the people that raised me. I must be what Heartwing needs right now. I cannot be selfish and be who I were, I must become this person. For whatever it takes, I will not have anymore dying.. The Broken Shore had reaped enough from us.“
This dedication spoke louder to who Aerdran’s personal virtues and beliefs than any previous part in his life had ever rang.
A phrase said itself in his thoughts that embodied everything that must be done from here on. Until the day that his father could be saved and Mithres Alymna be below Heartwing’s wings.
“We dedicate and sacrifice our hearts for dragonkind. “
Every moment of reprisal is in itself a price that people have paid for. Nothing is given, nothing is granted. We must stop looking to the skies, to our creators for the answers; We must create the fate with our own hands.
Aerdran’s face turned down from the sky to the crashing shore, before arising himself to his feet.
“Everything you’ve taken from us. We will take back and you will regret what you’ve done to us..”