Dragonborn

Fault

Chapter 4: Fault

The flames crackled on the wood, sending coils of smoke twisting into the night air. Ash sat with his knees drawn to his chest, the scorched rabbit untouched at his side. Across from him, the elf licked the last bits of meat from her fingers with a feral sort of grace. Her eyes, pale as frost under moonlight, held no warmth.

He swallowed, breaking the silence. “You were saying something about how humans broke the peace in the world."

"So, what about it?" She replied coldly.

Ash raised his voice. "Why won’t you tell me anything?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she leaned back against the tree trunk behind her and closed her eyes, as though his question were a passing breeze.

Ash’s fingers tightened around his knees. “You said something about gods… about dragons. About the balance of the world.”

“I did.” Her eyes slid open, hard now. “And I won’t say more.”

“Why not?” He asked, his voice low and heavy.

She snorted, low and dry. “Because I don’t share sacred truths with strangers. Especially not humans.”

The words stung more than he expected.

Ash lowered his head. “So that’s it? You think I don’t deserve to know, because I'm human.”

She didn’t respond, but he caught a flicker in her gaze—a small, grim sort of bitterness.

“Then why did you save me? I'm a nobody right.”

She looked at him for a long moment, as if weighing the truth behind his voice. Then she shifted her weight and turned away, beginning to loosen the belt from her waist.

“Why do you worship a god of the moon?” Ash asked, changing the subject.

That question, at least, paused her hand.

He thought she might ignore him again, but after a beat, she muttered, “Goddess. The moon watches the forgotten.”

Ash blinked, confused he asked. “What does that mean?”

She turned her head slightly, so her long white braid swayed like a rope of silk. “We moonstruck are descended from the pale goddess who watches when the sun turns its back. She grants us clarity when all else is shadow.” She shrugged. “It is… the essence of what we are.”

“Moonstruck…” Ash echoed. “Is that what your people are called?”

“We were.” She hesitated. “Long ago.”

That final phrase sat heavy in the air. Long ago— like a world Ash had never known.

He looked at her hands, slender and calloused from blades, resting on her thighs. He remembered something odd about them, and now it nagged at him. “You only have four fingers,” he said quietly. “I saw that earlier. Is that normal?” He would hate to hear that she snapped them out, but that much he would believe.

She nodded, unsurprised by the observation. “Every creature born of magic, is born with four.”

“But… why?” He asked, confusion written over his face.

“It is how we were shaped. Magic leaves its mark, I guess.” She flexed her fingers slightly, like she was remembering something she had forgotten. “Only humans and a few fae abominations bear five.”

Ash frowned. “So that means…”

“That you were born outside the balance,” she said, and the words cut deeper than any blade. "You could say that's one reason why humans fall outside the grand scope of things."

He didn’t speak after that.

The silence between them lengthened, filled only by the hiss of the dying fire and the rustle of wind through skeletal trees. She stood, tugged her cloak tighter around her, and without another word, climbed swiftly up the trunk of a nearby tree, vanishing into its upper shadows.

Ash looked up after her, barely catching any trace of her. “You’re really going to sleep up there?”

A faint voice drifted down. “Better than the dirt.”

Ash looked at the cold ground beneath him, still caked with old ash and snow. His back ached just imagining lying on it. “What about me?”

There was a long pause.

Then she spoke, “There’s always the fire.”

The reply felt like a dismissal and a challenge at once.

Ash turned toward the flame. It had shrunk to a dull glow, but it was still warm— still alive. Unlike his village. Unlike Tomas.

He wrapped his arms tighter around himself and lay on his side, close to the embers. The heat licked at his face, and he let it.

As his eyes drifted shut, memories surged, Tomas grinning with soot on his nose, Orric muttering as he fixed the broken roof of the houses, the scent of pinewood and stew and old forge smoke— gone, all of it.

He pressed his palm to his chest where the ember had burned that strange dream into him earlier. Was it really there? The last flame? He didn’t feel like an heir to anything. Just a lost, village boy, sleeping in the wild in the presence of someone who if she wanted him dead, could do it in the blink of an eye.

But the ember hadn’t lied. The memory of its heat still pulsed faintly, just beneath his skin. Like a secret heartbeat.

They say fire brings comfort. But tonight, all it did was remind him of what had been burned away. His breath slowed. He could hear the fire crackling. The leaves swaying in the cold nights air. The silence of a broken world.

Then, slowly, mercifully—

Sleep took him.

Up in the trees the elf lay back her sights on him. Her fingers traced her dagger’s curve, not out of intent, but habit— the instinct of a blade bred for purpose. Yet now it's purpose wavered.

Through the night she did not sleep, all she could do was breath. Her mind lost in thought.

She opened her mouth and spoke in whispers, "Solspire is still a long way away, I pray to you Selunara mother of the moon and eternal calm give me strength. Give him strength, because he'll need it."

Ash felt a kick on his side, his sleep quickly left him and he opened his eyes to be blinded by the light of day. Standing over him was his captor and undecided protector.

She wore a hooded cloak the color of dusk, her leathers layered tight and supple for speed. Twin blades rested across her thighs like wings. She looked down at him with a cold gaze and spoke, "Get off yer arse, even the birds are awake."

Ash groaned as he sat up straight, "I am not a bird, and what happened to your armour."

She turned around and started to walk a bit further from him, "It's clunky and slow, it served its purpose."

He climbed up to his feet, his bones creaking against him. He could not recall the first time he had slept soundly without having a dream about dragons. "Where are we going now? The ruins of Solspire? Where is it exactly?"

She continued to walk without caring to give him a glance. "Are you humans always this chipper in the morning?"

Ash noticed the forest becoming thicker as the went, the trees bigger. It was still dawn, the birds were chirping in the sky, squirrels digging out acorns from the snow that was melting.

"Umm, miss elf. Is where you come from also covered in snow?" He asked after a few minutes of walking and almost kicked himself in the gut for such a stupid question.

His elf companion kept quiet.

Ash still continued to ask his questions as his heart led. "Last night you said something I recall, you said I had magic in me. But magic is a myth."

The elf girl's gaze now focused on the tree branches as they walked by them. Her pace was smooth, almost like she was gliding over the ground itself, and when she spoke it was cold and measured. "Have you been living under a rock yer while life, magic is very real. Even you humans use it."

"I thought you said humans weren't magical." Ash asked.

"By the goddess Selunara, this boy will be the death of me." She thought to herself.

Ash could hear his stomach growling but he chose not to say anything, his companion had not proved to be the most caring of all. "I feel you might be avoiding me."

She snorted. "Oh really, what gave me away?"

"I don't even know your name." He said.

"I don't remember giving any, human." She said coldly.

Ash sped up to meet up with her pace, "Can I please know your name, if we are going to be together for a while which I believe we are."

She gave a heavy sigh, her eyes flinching slightly. "Here's two things about names human. First, it's mine so I choose who I share it with, hearing it in a human's mouth sullies it."

They continued to walk, their feet crunching on little bits of snow on the ground.

Ash observed her keenly, her face was unlike any he had ever seen before. Everything about her screamed, perfection. She walked with grace, she spoke and acted in a composed manner, her eyes were strong and willfull. She was not like what people had told him about elves, she was not barbaric in any way he could conceive.

She was heavenly.

"And what's the second thing?" He asked, his voice low.

She hesitated a bit before answering. "I give you my name, you use it. Someone hears it, they use it and the circle grows bigger and bigger. It really throws off the whole privacy that justifies the assassin name."

Ash bit down on his lower lip and whistled loud, he kept silent for a short while. Afterwards he spoke, "You can tell me, I promise I won't tell."

She opened her mouth to speak but slowly shut it afterwards.

His jaw dropped as his mind recalled what she had said only moments ago. "You're an assassin!" He panicked, he wondered if she was sent to kill him. If she did, he would already be dead. So what was her goal truly? To deliver him to someone? His thoughts overwhelmed him, the elf relished in the silence it provided.

A few minutes passed before a loud scream broke the silence, it was a woman's cry. They both froze waiting, the cries continued in the distance. The elf girl signalled him to continue to walk away from the sound but Ash waited and listened, he could hear the distinct voices of men.

He doubted the elf would care about what happened there since she had made it clear that he was her only priority. But then again he stopped to ask himself if it mattered anyway what happened in the forest.

"I wonder if the girls cried like this when they were burned to de—" he stopped his thoughts and swallowed hard.

The elf girl had gone a few steps before noticing Ash's prolonged delay, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulders. His face looked frightened, his eyes unsettled.

"This is bad." She bit down on her lip and thought to herself. "He's having a breakdown."

Ash could hear the woman's cries ringing through the forest, they grew louder and louder— till he could hear them calling his name. Cursing him, hot sweat trickled down his forehead and his heart palpitated. The cries slowly grew into roars, feral and uncontrollable. And then... it stopped. His breath went with it. He looked at the part of the forest where the voice had come from.

He wasn't sure what he expected to see but there was nothing but forest there. For a moment...

"Did they cry like this when they died?" He asked himself. "I couldn't do anything to help." Ash imagined Tomas, his hands raised in vain, as the smoke filled his lungs and he was burnt alive.

A sudden thud snapped the thread of his grief— something soft hitt the snow at his feet. Ash blinked as a red apple rolled to a stop against his boot.

The elf watched him with an impatient tilt to her mouth. “You’re hungry. Take it and move on.” Her fingers flinched by her side.

Ash simply looked down at the apple, red like the fire that had consumed him. The same fire that consumed his home— Emberfall. Doubt slowly crept into his mind on what he should do and slowly it morphed into guilt and regret.

The elf girl could feel a gentle breeze pick up their way, her ears twitched as the sound of a group of humans were getting closer from the distance. She knew they had to be the same group where the woman's screams had come from earlier. "I don't have time for this." She thought.

As she looked at him, her face softened for a moment before returning to its cold self. "If you're thinking about yer village and how they died not being yer fault you're wrong. In a way it's yer fault, that's a burden you will have to bear. Best to deal with this at once and move on, no good comes from holding all the guilt in."

He stared at it as if it were a small ember, then bent to pick it up. It felt absurdly warm in his palm, red and whole. For a breath he let himself think of the bakery in Emberfall, the way Tomas had once stolen fruit and run, laughing.

His grip tightened on the apple.

Then his voice left his lungs, low, broken and empty.

"You're right, it is my fault and I should move on... But this is where it ends for me."

Ash shoved the apple into his mouth in a single, foolish motion. He hadn’t meant to— he had meant only to taste it— but hunger and something else pushed him. The fruit slid down raw and hot; his throat spasmed. He coughed, hands clawing uselessly at his chest out of sheer instinct. Tears came to his eyes, not from the choke but because he had wanted the pain to drown everything else.

He had hoped to die burning and screaming as those of Emberfall had done but fate had dealt him a hard hand. He had no right to still go on living and he believed that much was true.

He let the apple drag him down, a stone in his throat. “It ends here for me,” he thought, the words hollow but final.