The two companions awoke just as the sun was rising above the valley walls. Its light was muffled by the thick cloud cover that morning, the heavy, dark clouds hanging over the mountains. Wyldfyre would have taken it as a bad omen, if he believed in such things.

Rummaging through their packs, the pair extract some cold rations with which to make their breakfast. They ate in near silence, the dark shape of Korlath's tower hugging the distant edges of the valley an oppressive sight, even if it did not seem terribly impressive.

An hour later, after they had finished eating and had packed their sleeping furs back into their travelling packs, Wyldfyre and Larieth set out to follow the narrow valley trail to the distant tower. Progress was slow and careful, as although the wind had dropped considerably since the previous night, there was plenty of loose debris on the trail, a consequence of disuse and erosion, to make the journey hazardous.

The sun rose further, exposing more and more of the valley to the dim light it managed to force through the cloud cover. As it did, the details of Korlath's tower became easier to distinguish. It could now be seen that the sturdy looking, yet ragged, structure was perhaps four or five floors in height and roughly cylindrical. The tower connected to the valley wall along one side and tapered inwards towards the bottom, using the narrow trail itself as a base, where what looked like a heavy wooden door lay in wait for any visitors. The top of the tower was flat and decorated with a castle-style battlement.

Closer still, and the tower's true state of disrepair could be witnessed. The stonework was loose and beginning to crumble away from years of being battered by the harsh mountain weather. Some of the stone blocks around the rampart at the top of the tower had fallen away, carving great gouges in the trail and valley wall where they had tumbled down. Scraps of ivy suggested that the tower had once been wrapped in a decorative pattern of the plant, but it had all but withered away, only surviving around the few cracks in the stonework that offered some minor protection from the elements. The large main door, though, twice as high as either of the two companions, looked sturdy and remarkably intact, and it was this door that the pair now confronted.

"Cheerful," Wyldfyre commented as he ran his eyes up and down the tower.

"Very unusual," Larieth muttered to himself. He looked at Wyldfyre and spoke quietly. "For someone who wields enough power to create those creatures, it would take very little effort to remake this building into a much more impressive sight. Or at least to erase the disrepair that has occurred over time. In fact, this place looks almost derelict, no sign of activity save for the candlelit windows we saw last night, and certainly not a finger raised in dedication of its upkeep.

"And yet, the door is solid. It appears to be well looked after." Wyldfyre reached his hand out, palm flat to the surface of the door, but not touching it, as a wizard of power could sometimes tell if his dwelling was being intruded upon, if he had set in place the proper wards. Closing his eyes, the elf let his senses extend outwards. After a moment, he reopened his eyes and nodded knowingly. "There is magic here."

"Oh yes, surely there is. Korlath certainly doesn't appear to want any visitors." Larieth sighed. "But then, if I were meddling with the sort of power he seems to be involved in, neither would I."

Suddenly, a wild wind whipped up, blowing into their faces. But it was not a natural wind, for the very scent of magic rode upon its currents. Wyldfyre and Larieth both whirled around in the same instinctive moment, looking back up the trail and coming face to face with a strange man.

He was quite short, and his features belied his age. Wrapped in a dark purple cloak, edged with a golden material and patterned with any number of golden swirls and designs, he could not have been more than five and a half feet tall. He leaned on a wooden staff, taller than he was, seemingly more for support than effect. The wrinkled features of his face only seemed to outlined the shadowed sockets of his eyes, which gleamed with a dark intensity all their own. He was bald, save for a crown of silver hair that wrapped around the back and sides of his head.

"Greetings... Korlath," Larieth ventured confidently, a wry smile on his face.

"Illusion," Wyldfyre whispered sideways to his friend, having reached out with a magical sense to confirm the fact. Larieth simply nodded.

"You are not welcome here!" The illusion of Korlath proclaimed. "I do not wish to be disturbed! Begone immediately, or you shall suffer my wrath!"

Larieth stepped forward a little, and the illusion seemed to brace itself against any impending attack, tightening its grip around the staff. Larieth had to give due credit - the tower was dilapidated, but the welcoming party was impressive! He decided to play along a little with the role Korlath seemed to have chosen for them.

"Your pardon, great wizard Korlath." Larieth bowed slightly for effect. "But we have urgent business with you."

The illusion squinted at the pair for a few seconds, almost as if looking right through them. There was silence, save for the strong wind that seemed to have remained since the illusions appearance, though more naturally now. "Oh yes? And what business would an elf and a dragon have with me, so far from home?"

Larieth smiled, knowing now that this truly was a wizard of some considerable power, even despite the state of his home. The shapeshifting magic that he and Wyldfyre used may not have been overly complex as dragon magic went, but for it to be seen through so easily by a human indicated a high level of ability.

"It is regarding your recent attacks on the town of Aspinara, Korlath. For you are the one responsible for those creatures, yes? Tell me, how does a wizard such as yourself gain the knowledge and the control of the such power?"

Korlath fumed as Larieth finished speaking, though whether it was because they knew that Korlath was responsible for the attacks, or that Larieth remained calm and confident in the face of what Korlath had obviously intended to be a worryingly powerful visage, Larieth could not tell.

"Those fools do not concern you!" The illusion roared. Larieth became aware of a dim red glow coming from its eyes, and he prepared himself to raise magical barriers in a hurry in case of an attack. But none was forthcoming. "Begone, dragon, and take your silent elf with you."

Larieth sighed. "My apologies, Korlath, but we're coming in. And if you won't open it for us, then we're going to have to make that door match the condition of the rest of your tower. If you know enough about dragons to see what I am without me revealing it, you also know that I am capable of carrying out that threat."

The illusion opened its mouth and roared in response to Larieth's demand. But the roar didn't stop, and its pitch began to rise until it was almost a scream. Suddenly, without warning, the illusion exploded into a cloud of purple and gold coloured mist. The wind changed direction, blasting back towards the tower, carrying the mist with it, rushing like a torrent of colour over and around Larieth and Wyldfyre and rising to flow rapidly into one of the top windows.

"I'll take that as a 'no', then." Larieth muttered, turning back towards the tower and looking ruefully at the door. Then suddenly, with a heavy click, the lock unlatched itself and the sturdy door swung open with an ominous creak. Larieth smiled mischievously and stroked a finger along his lower lip. "Interesting... Ready, Wyldfyre?"

Wyldfyre nodded and took a step towards the doorway, only to hear an all too familiar growl coming from within. From the darkness inside the tower three of the twisted creatures lumbered through the open door, like the ones they had seen in Aspinara, but taller and stronger-looking.

"Looks like he's learned something since those creatures attacked Aspinara," Wyldfyre said, drawing his sword. He spared a moment to instinctively glance behind him, making sure no one had followed them and was watching, which, of course, they weren't. "Should be safe to use magic here, I think."

Larieth raised his hands in front of him and concentrated his magical energy causing his fingers to glow with a silver light. "Korlath has already seen through us, there's no point in holding back. Give them everything you've got. Believe me, whatever creatures they were before, you're doing them a favour now."

As Wyldfyre raised his short sword in front of him, the blade began to flicker and glow with a blazing blue aura, like an azure fire poured from the weapon. He stepped back in line with Larieth and stood ready.

As the beasts drew closer, Larieth extended his fingers towards the lead creature. Bolts of pure silver light shot forth from his hands, spearing his foe bloodlessly up and down its twisted form and sending it crashing to the ground. In the very same instant Wyldfyre leapt forward, swinging his blue-flaming blade upwards into the closest of the remaining two creatures. The magically enhanced sword cut easily through the creature, and the heat generated by the blue flame cauterised the wound, stemming the flow of the burning blood.

The remaining creature stood paralysed for a moment, indecision painted over its face. It looked first towards Wyldfyre, who had landed in a crouching position behind the second creature, sword raised to the sky following his strike, and then towards Larieth, who was already raising his hands to prepare another charge.

Wyldfyre span round, still crouched, to face the third creature, which noticed the sudden motion and turned to pounce forward and swing its claws at the elf. As it launched itself forwards, Larieth let his fingertips flare again and sent another volley of silver arrows of light into the side of the beast, knocking it out of the air as it pounced. It landed with a sickening crunch and stopped moving. The battle had lasted only a few seconds.

"That was surprisingly easy," Wyldfyre commented as he pushed himself upright, the cerulean aura dissipating from his blade before he sheathed it. At the same moment, more growling noises came from inside the tower. Looking back towards the doorway, Wyldfyre sighed. "I had to say it, didn't I?"

"No, forget about them." Larieth said suddenly. He pointed towards the window that the coloured mist from the illusion of Korlath had disappeared into. "We'll fly up there. All this is merely a distraction to stall us, and I don't intend to give Korlath that much time to prepare."

Wyldfyre smiled and stepped into some space behind the felled creatures. Checking the doorway quickly to make sure there was no imminent danger, he closed his eyes and willed the change to take place.

Almost immediately, he could feel his skin rippling and flexing painlessly. His limbs lengthened slightly, and his fingers bent forwards into claws. As the muscle rippled beneath his chest and around his lmbs, he placed his hands forward to brace himself. His back then arched and he fell forwards on to all fours, becoming fully quarupedal. Next came his neck, which lengthened, while simultaneously a tail burst forth from his lower back, stretching and snaking backwards, and giving him more balance. Then, like a wave spreading backwards over his body, silver scales sprouted from his skin, completely covering him. As he felt his face stretch and straighten, forming a muzzle, his back spasmed once more, sprouting large silver wings that he unfurled and raised to the sky.

Wyldfyre opened his eyes and looked straight into the cat-like irises of his friend, already changed into his trueform, which was always quicker to assume than any other shape.

"Ready, my silver scaled friend?" Larieth asked with a smile, his rumbling voice lower than its human counterpart.

"Always. Lead the way."

Larieth spread his great blue wings and leapt from the narrow causeway along the valley into the air. He allowed himself the small pleasure of a glide before banking and beating his wings against the air, climbing upwards while turning back towards the tower. Wyldfyre followed, relishing the feel of the air against his newly formed limbs. It had been too long since he had done this, and it would be far too short a flight for his liking, but time was critical now. Mimicking his friend, he banked around and used his powerful wings to climb back towards the open window.

At the foot of the window was a large overhanging balcony, a perfect landing space for a couple of dragons. They alighted together and Wyldfyre dropped straight into his trueform, his elven body slightly taller and fairer than his human shape, though still wrapped in the same green and silver cloak. He drew his sword and waited for Larieth to change back into his human shape so that they could continue the pursuit.

With a sorrowful expression, Larieth completed his change and left his trueform behind once more. "Let's go," he said quickly, moving briskly forward and sweeping aside the long purple velvet curtains that obscured the room beyond.

To Wyldfyre, the scene that followed advanced almost in slow motion. As Larieth strode through the curtain, there was a bright flash of light, and his body was knocked aside by some unseen force, landing out of sight somewhere inside the room beyond the curtains. Caught in a moment of indecision, Wyldfyre hesitated.

Suddenly his senses flooded back to him and he took a short sharp breath before launching himself at the curtain, ducking and rolling through the doorway. Whatever power had struck Larieth must have either been a one-shot affair, or had nto had sufficient time to recharge, as the same fate did not befall the agile elf.

Righting himself from the rolling entrance, Wyldfyre surveyed his surroundings, and he could not believe his eyes. The first thing his gaze fell upon was Larieth, pinned to the right hand edge of the semi-circular room by some strange black tentacle of crackling energy. He writhed in agony, unable to speak or act. Wyldfyre felt his heart skip a beat. Human wizards were not this powerful... To hold a dragon against his or her will, it was simply not possible. They did not possess the skill!

Swinging himself round to face the opposite direction, Wyldfyre quickly took in an array of tables supporting weird artefacts and set ups of equipment that could only have been magical in origin and use. Along the flat edge of the room an almost continuous bookcase holding hundreds of books, some worn and ancient, others new and pristine, broken only by the single door leading deeper into the tower.

At the far edge of the room there was a tall stone archway, dominating that side of the chamber. But the archway did not lead anywhere in the tower, rather it was filled with some sort of dark portal, liquid blackness swirling silently within its boundaries. Wyldfyre has seen nothing like it in his life. In front of the archway was Korlath, stood watching the elf with a menacing grin on his face, his purple cloak was being blown wildly by a non-existent wind, and tendrils of the same black energy that held Larieth in such agony grew outwards from the portal, holding the wizard in a writhing embrace. Unlike Larieth, though, Korlath did not suffer any of the debilitating effects.

"Release him!" Wyldfyre growled, pointing his sword toward the wizard. "Or you die!"

Korlath let his grin dissolve into a satisfied smile. "I hardly think you are in a position to demand anything, little elf!" He paused to allow himself a chuckle. "I had thought your kind long since dead, killed by the Dark Hoarde. Today I will complete the job they started!"

"Not without a fight, you won't!" Wyldfyre spat the words at the wizard. He immediately raised his hand and conjured up a flurry of tiny golden darts, glowing softly in the shadowy light of the chamber. Sweeping his hand sideways, the darts were released, all streaming towards Korlath and exploding on contact with the first solid surface they met, releasing a small cloud of smoke and flame.

Following immediately behind the darts, Wyldfyre dashed forward and brought his sword, now glowing with blue fire again, down upon the wizard before the smoke had even begun to clear, screaming his fury as he did. To his dismay, his swing stopped short as the sword struck the same unseen barrier that the darts had, glancing off harmlessly to the side.

"Poor, tiny little elf. Can't help his friend and even more so, can't even help himself!" The laughing face of Korlath emerged from the smoke as it finally cleared. He raised a hand, almost leisurely so, as Wyldyfre struggled to recover from his failed strike. Black tendrils of buzzing, crackling energy, like black lightning, raced forth from the archway to surround Wyldfyre, who summoned up every magical defence and shield he could muster in a hurry, each of which was penetrated with barely an effort.

As the tendrils tightened around Wyldfyre, he was suddenly immersed in a world of pain. Ripples of energy traced up and down his body, paralysing him. He arched his head backwards and screamed as the sword fell limply from his hand, clattering to the floor and losing its blue aura.

Korlath stepped forwards, the tendrils extending behind him and keeping him attached to the portal. He raised a hand and Wyldfyre began to float, still wrapped in an agonising embrace.

"Now you will see what power a master of the Dark Hoarde can truly wield!" Korlath smiled and the crackling chains of energy seemed to increase in their intensity, wrapping Wyldfyre in even more pain. His screams became strangled and he could feel the flame of life within him begin to flicker and fade.

As he hung in midair, slowly dying, Wyldfyre felt his pendant fall forwards and dangle from his cloak. Korlath spotted it, and stepped forward, roughly pulling the oak-leaf shaped talisman from around Wyldfyre's neck, snapping the cord it was held by and apparently unaffected by the waves of dark energy flowing through the elf's spasming body.

The wizard seemed to examine the script on the back of the pendant, and then clasped his fingers around it and laughed loudly. "Oh, such an irony! That the prince of Athyria should come seeking the salvation of the people of Aspinara, only to meet the same fate as befell his people so many years ago!" He threw the pendant back at Wyldfyre, glancing harmlessly off his shoulder as he floated. "Well, Prince Elf, the time has come for you to learn the pain your people suffered as you escaped our claws!"

Then, suddenly, it was over. The black tendrils dissipated, and Wyldfyre felt to the floor with a thump. Gaining just enough control over his body to look up at the wizard, Wyldfyre saw the light in the old man's eyes fade, and he slumped to the ground, a large sword sticking out of the side of his body.

Wyldfyre groaned and struggled to push his still weak body upright, his muscles and limbs spasming painfully as the after echoes of the dark energy took their toll. After a moment, he became aware of footsteps approaching him. A pair of black booted legs stood before him, and Wyldfyre had to squint as he raised his head to try and identify the newcomer through blurred vision.

"Thank the gods! I almost thought I was too late!" Wyldfyre knew that voice. It was Art. "Sorry I took so long."

Wyldfyre didn't know how Art had come to be at the tower, nor why he was there. But he didn't care, there was only one thing on his mind. "Larieth... is he -?"

Art chuckled. "Looks fine. Toasty, but fine. Tough stuff they make those dragons out of."

Wyldfyre almost choked. Forgetting his pain for a moment, he looked up again, his vision now in sharp focus. Art noticed the panic sweeping across the elf's face.

"Don't worry, I won't tell. Though I have to admit, I was surprised when I overheard Korlath and Larieth arguing outside the tower. I had thought your race to be long dead. And for a dragon to assume human form? Well," Art smiled. "I guess we learn something new every day."

Wyldfyre didn't listen too closely to Art, instead concentrating on getting his body back under control. He groaned and slowly got to his feet, snatching up his pendant from the spot it had landed. He examined it for a moment, though it was undamaged and was no different than when he had been discovered wearing it in war-torn Athyria over twenty years before. "He called me Prince."

Art reached down to pull the sword from Korlath's prone body. "Did he? I didn't hear - I was busy dealing with some of those creatures in the tower. But I crashed in here, looking to evade some of them, and found you instead, about to become much less lifelike. So I hurled my sword and must have caught the old guy off guard. Funny thing, though, when he went down, all those creatures outside seemed to lose the will to fight. Like they suddenly didn't know what they were doing there."

"Wyldfyre!" Larieth's voice rang out through the chamber as he clambered to his feet. "Wyldfyre, are you all right?" He strode over to his companion and embraced him tightly, appearing less dazed by the after-effects than Wyldfyre. "Art, I don't know why you're here, but I thank you."

At that moment, the sound of Korlath drawing breath caused the three to spin round and face his fallen body. The wizard blinked wearily, and opened his mouth to speak. "Thank you... for releasing my soul... I could not control the power... Young Prince Elf, listen to me... Do not lose hope... There is still a future for your p-" The word died on his lips as Korlath finally left the world.

"Possessed," Larieth spoke first. "I should have realised, should have felt it. That portal," he motioned towards the archway, now simply a stone arch in the middle of the room, the black energy long since dissipated. "It must have been a conduit for the black magic of the Dark Hoarde. I imagine he tried to wield that magic himself for some purpose, but was consumed by it instead. If it had grown much stronger within him, I doubt any of us would have been standing here now. But I must ask, Art, how you come to be here in such a timely fashion."

Art smiled and sheathed his broadsword. "Well, I figured after the questions you asked that night, that you fancied your chances against Korlath. Before I became a sword teacher, I did a lot of travelling, and I know your type. Always looking for a person to help or a mess to fix. Shame, really, that there aren't more like you around.

"But, as I said, I figured out that you were heading here. So I followed you, in the interests of Aspinara, and camped just a bit further back down the trail last night. I saw your conversation with Korlath at the base of the tower from a hiding place just behind a ridge back there. Have to admit, it was news to me when I heard him call you a dragon, and Wyldfyre here an elf, even more so when I saw you shapeshift like that!

"When you flew up here, the creatures' attentions were mainly turned to you, so it was relatively easy to go in the front door and sneak up the stairs. And that brought me here. You know the rest." Art paused and grinned widely. "So, I take it you are responsible for the rumours of a seventy foot dragon roaming the wilds around here?"

Larieth simply nodded and smiled in response, looking to Wyldfyre, who was still staring down at the corpse of Korlath, his pendant held tightly in his hand. "Wyldfyre? Wyldfyre, what's wrong?"

There was a pause as the elf sighed. "He called me Prince Elf... Larieth, why did he call me a prince?"

Larieth stalled, trying to think of an answer. "I... It was probably nothing of any importance."

"You don't sound convinced of that. Tell me again where you found me when I was young, at the mercy of the Dark Hoarde?" Wyldfyre's voice was low and ominous.

Larieth swallowed nervously, but tried not to make it obvious. "It was a wrecked building, you were in a crib, abandoned by your family."

Wyldfyre stood slowly, staring intently at the pendant in his hand. "Which building?" He turned to look up at Larieth's pained expression. "Which building, Larieth?"

Larieth took a step back, his features filled with uncertainty and indecision. "It.. it was the royal palace." He managed to force the words out, his voice on the verge of cracking. "Wyldfyre, I'm sorry, I always meant to tell you."

Art looked at the pair and stepped back, moving quickly to examine the archway, trying to stay out of the way of the developing situation as much as possible.

Wyldfyre looked desperately at his old friend. "Larieth... I trusted you. You have been father to me for so long... Why did you never tell me? Why did you never say?!"

Larieth stumbled over his words, trying to find an answer. He was filled with so many emotions, he could not find the strength to speak. Wyldfyre saved him the effort, thrusting the pendant, now dangling on its cord, in front of Larieth's face. "What does it say? Tell me!"

"It... it says 'Crown Prince of Athyria'." Larieth suddenly found the strength and courage to speak, and the words flowed like a torrent from him. "I'm sorry, Wyldfyre, I was so scared that I'd lose you, because I cared for you, and I didn't want you to go. I never wanted to lie to you, please believe me!"

Wyldfyre stumbled back a little, the merest shred of hope that his dearest friend truly could not read the pendant now shattered. He looked away and put the keepsake around his neck once more. "I don't know if I can ever believe anything you tell me anymore, Larieth. I thought you were my friend, but now I find you made me live a lie all these years."

Larieth reached for words to explain himself, his expression filled with pain and sympathy. "It was not something I enjoyed making you live, dear Wyldfyre! I knew your parents, knew they would only want you to be happy, to not be burdened with this. I was only trying to do what was best for you!"

Wyldfyre took a sharp intake of breath, exasperation flashing across his face. "You knew my parents?! ... You knew them, and never told me?! However could that have been in my best interests, Larieth? How could you keep their memory away from me?" Tears began to stream down his face, his voice breaking and stuttering as he sobbed. "How? How could you let me live in such loss like that, never knowing?" Larieth sank to one knee, his broken spirit not allowing him the comfort of standing upright any longer. "I-"

"Don't even answer, Larieth!" Wyldfyre shouted angrily. "I don't want to hear it anymore!" He stepped away, heading to the balcony. He paused a second, fingering his pendant in a hand. "I need to go. I... need to think."

Without a further word, Wyldfyre started to walk away, his form shifting and changing as he went. He was obviously filled with emotion and not thinking straight as the change was erratic and uneven. From the maelstrom of his shifting form wrongly shaped appendages would emerge, only to be remoulded and corrected a moment later. After a few moments, though, Wyldfyre the silver dragon was left, looking out over the valley from the balcony. With a powerful thrust of his two great wings, Wyldfyre was lifted from the edge of the balcony and dove into the valley below.

The sight of Wyldfyre leaving shook Larieth suddenly out of his emotional daze. He leapt to his feet and sprinted to the balcony, leaning out over the edge and seeing the small moving silver dot that was Wyldfyre receding into the distance. "Wyldfyre! I'm sorry!" He yelled. "Please come back!" But it was too late. Wyldfyre was gone. He sank fully to his knees and began to sob into the edge of the balcony. "Please..." he muttered beneath his tears.

Larieth was suddenly aware of a hand on his shoulder. It was Art's. "Calm down, Larieth. He's still young and impulsive. He'll be all right, just give him some time."

Larieth didn't move, feeling as if the energy had been drawn out of him and not caring at all. "He was my child... I loved him."

Art nodded grimly, even though he knew his new friend could not see. "I know, Larieth. But I've seen more than one child run away in my time, and they all come back. It just takes a while for them to sort themselves out, to see the justification behind things. If you two are truly as close as I believe, you'll see him again before long."

When there was no reply, Art was about to continue comforting Larieth, but he was interrupted by a loud rumbling sound. The ground began to shake and crumbling stone and dust fell from the walls and ceiling.

The sudden occurrence shocked Larieth out of his melancholy mood. He rose to his feet and "The tower, it must have been supported by Kolath's magic! And now he's dead, his magic is dispersing!"

Art pulled against Larieth's shoulder. "We've got to get out of here, now!"

Larieth shook his head. "No time!" As if in agreement with his statement, they felt the balcony begin to give way. "Wait a moment, and give me some room!"

The sword teacher complied and stepped back a few paces, not knowing what to expect. As soon as he was clear, Larieth threw his arms outwards and let his body erupt into change. His form seemed to collapse inwards, and then explode back out in a flurry of blue scales and wings. The change back to a trueform was always quick, but this was quick even for that.

Larieth swung his draconic head back around to look at Art, who was gaping in awe at the sight before him. "Quickly, grab on!" The dragon extended a paw to Art, who shook himself from his wonder and held tightly on to the dragon's forelimb.

With a mighty leap, Larieth cleared the balcony, just as it collapsed away from the rest of the tower, which soon followed with a tremendous roar of collapsing masonry, the wrecked ruins finding a new home at the bottom of the valley.

The additional weight of Art clinging for dear life to his paw made Larieth's flight a little unsteady as he unfurled his wings and glided away from the collapsing remains of the tower. Larieth kept his wings straight and steady as he curled away from the rising cloud of stone dust and headed towards the end of the valley, back in the direction of Aspinara.

Alighting on the narrow causeway at the end of the valley, not too far from where Larieth and Art had slept the previous night, Larieth placed his paw gently on the ground and allowed Art to uncurl himself and dismount.

"Wow," Art managed after a moment. "That was something!"

Larieth managed a weak grin before willing himself to melt back into his human form. He dusted down his cloak with a hand. "I would fly you all the way back to Aspinara, but I think it would be safer if we walked."

"You're right, Larieth, though I wish things were different. I would gladly travel like that again!" Art smiled and straightened his leather padded jerkin before looking sympathetically at his dragon friend. "Come back to Aspinara with me, Larieth. I'll put you up for a while until we get this mess between you and Wyldfyre cleared up, all right?"

Larieth nodded and smiled a little. "Thank you, Art, I would appreciate that."

The two started back along the pass, towards Aspinara and a well deserved rest. But as they did, Larieth couldn't help but think and worry about Wyldfyre, and sent his prayers to him.


WYLDFYRE

Korlath had fallen. We had probably saved the town of Aspinara, and a great deal more of the local populace, if not a much wider swathe of the land. We were heroes, if only secretly.

But none of that mattered to me.

He lied to me. All my life he lied to me. Was any of it true? Was a single word he had ever spoken of my past true? I was prince to a people I had never known, a member of a ruling family that I had no memory of. Al these years the knowledge had been hanging around my neck, but Larieth had never unlocked it for me. I thought it was because he couldn't. Now I discover it is just because he wouldn't.

If he had just said straight to me that Korlath had been babbling nonsense, I would have believed him, too. But it was the look on his face, that sorrowful, pained expression that gave him away. He knew the truth was revealed, and he couldn't bring himself to try and lock it away again.

I didn't know where I was going. Just away. Away from Larieth. Away from Aspinara. Away from everything I had ever known. My wings took me northwards, along the valley and out over the mountains. I didn't care if I was spotted, not yet. I didn't intend to land for a while, and by that time I would be far beyond the rumours or hearsay of the local populace here.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, something tried to bring back the memories of Larieth raising me as a child, teaching me and protecting me. The good memories, the memories that told me how Larieth loved me like his own son, and how he would never wish to harm me. I ignored them.

But then, isn't that how rage blinds us?


LARIETH

I let him go. By the stars themselves, why did I just let him go?! For twenty years I raised and protected that child, loved him as my own. And I just let him run away.

Perhaps it was because I felt so guilty. I should have told him years ago about his family and their fate. He should have had some knowledge of his family, he deserved that much. And yet I deprived him of that, stole his heritage from him. Why?! How could I be so cruel?

I think... I think it was because I did love him. As I said, I loved him like my own, and even though he was not of my own race, the love he returned to me through that father-son bond was beyond all my expectations. When I originally rescued him, it had been out of duty. But in the end, it was a joy to bring Wyldfyre through his childhood years, and it was an honour to remain his companion and friend once he had matured and we left Illashara. And it was that bond that I feared losing. If he had known about all of his past, that he was a member of the elven royal family, as well as the only surviving elf in existence... Would he have left me? Would he have returned to pointlessly attempt to reclaim the lands of Athyria, driven by some sense of duty. The sky knows, he was eager enough to return there anyway, to see with his own eyes.

That's why I had never taken him to my own home. The writing on the pendant was old elvish, certainly, but it could have been translated by most of the elder dragons, and even a few of the younger ones.

That was my decision. It was also my mistake.


ART

I didn't really have a choice. I couldn't just leave him standing there. For all I knew, if I had left him there, he wouldn't have moved an inch until his body finally froze in place with that chill wind.

Besides, in the short time I had known him, since we all protected Aspinara from those invading beasts, I had grown to like the old dragon. Well, I guessed he was old. Aren't all dragons old? That's what the stories say! Though I've learned from my travels, all stories come with a heavy dose a fiction. Even the true ones.

It did seem like a tricky situation between Wyldfyre and Larieth. I couldn't help but overhear as I pretended to be busy inspecting the wizard's chamber. Rather harsh of Larieth to keep the young elf's past hidden from him, but I knew it was more complex than that. These sorts of things always are, and it was written all over Larieth's face. Besides, I was there to assist, not judge, and that's exactly what I'll do now.

Because everyone needs a shoulder to cry on sometimes, even the ancient dragons of legend.