Spring 4076 After Meteor Strike
The air was crisp and cool, the kind of morning that whispered of change. A light breeze swayed through the leaves outside, rustling the trees like an old lullaby. I opened my eyes slowly, the morning light streaming across the wooden beams of the ceiling. The room was chilled as the window was cracked open overnight.
Crystals charms hung in the window, catching the light and casting dancing rainbows across the floor. Wards to keep the bad spirits away, and well, they're just pretty. I smiled softly, watching the rainbows shift and twirl and twirl across the floorboards.
The old bones ached this morning, time to wake this body up. I started with my toes, wiggling them, testing the stiffness. Then my hands, wiggling my fingers. One hand out slipped free from under the blanket and tugged at the edge. I flung it off and pulled my legs out slowly.
Songbirds sang outside the window. The mountainside was calling me. I pushed the afghan the rest of the way off and rolled onto my side. Time to get moving. Keko was sleeping at the foot of the bed. She didn't stir when I moved; just flicked an ear, unimpressed. Keko was an old kitty smokey grey with green eyes and a gift from Sigmon before he died. Long before everything changed.
I sat up, legs dangling over the edge for a moment before rising. The floor was cool against my feet as I walked barefoot to the window and looked out across the ridgeline. The cliffs of Jordanna were wrapped in a soft mist, wildflowers nodding gently in the breeze. Below, the world was still sleeping.
Turning, I reach my favorite knitted shawl. A heavy wool one, soft and warm, knit in natural browns with a dragon-scale pattern. I draped it over my shoulders and stepped into the hallway and made my way down a short hallway, the kitchen opening to the left, and the living room to the right.
The kitchen welcomed me with its pale yellow walls and old wooden cabinets. I made my way to the stove and placed the metal kettle on the burner. The burner clicked before the flame flared to life. A deep breath, and I added the coffee to brew. The scent of roasted beans filled the cabin like a memory.
Elena.
The thought of her rose unbidden, warming my heart more than the coffee ever could. I smiled, closing my eyes as I remembered the first time Elena had tasted coffee. Hooked, even at eight.
Fire in her blood, just like her mother Noella. Though Elena… Elena had a gentler edge. Softer around the soul. She'd be graduating from Marshal School soon. All grown up. Thoughts of Elena always swelled my chest with pride, like a song passed down through blood.
Our family's song. Generations of Guardians who came before... and those still to come. The thought used to stir something noble in me. But now, it just made me tired. Once believed it was an honor to be a Guardian. Now I know better, and now I know the cost.
Stepping into the living room. The brown sofa. The two red chairs. The little table with its open book resting mid-chapter. My favorite room. Quiet. Sacred. The room I came to be still.
Sigmon always took the left chair. Reading his papers, sipping his tea like time couldn't touch him. His family owned a Vineyard, but he'd walked away from the business long ago. Occasionally, they still roped him in and occasionally, he'd write a report or a financial review… But his heart?
His heart belonged to a dusty chalkboard and a room full of teenagers. He loved teaching history at Jordanna Secondary, said the past made more sense than the present. I could still see him there, red pen in hand, grading papers well into the evening, lips pursed in thought.
I smiled at the memory. His presence lingered in the fabric of that chair, like an echo woven into the threads. Not gone. Just waiting.
There by the side door stood my walking staff, propped against the wall as always. I strolled to the washroom and pulled my cropped hiking pants and a well-worn cotton shirt, faded blue, my favorite, from the drying rack. I dressed quickly, the cotton soft from years of wear. Socks came from the basket, shoes and my wide-brimmed hat from the closet.
And then... I sat. In his chair.
I sank into the cushions, pulling on my shoes slowly, one by one. The fabric still held the shape of him, some part of him, anyway. I leaned back and closed my eyes for just a breath. Took him in.
Sigmon. Not just the Guardian. Not just the teacher. My Sigmon. He filled the room, even now.
I took a moment to glance around the living room. Simmon had left his black robe draped across the sofa. I shook my head, smiling to myself. That boy really needs to learn to put up his clothes. Can't have Noella stopping by and seeing this mess…
Noella would be coming by later. Better move it to his room. I rose from the chair, scooped up the robe, and carried it to the guest room, Simmon's room, hanging it back in the closet.
Now it was the mountain's turn. One last check. I paused at the door, adjusting the tie on my hat. Gripped my walking staff and stepped out into the wind. "Coffee'll be ready when I get back," I murmured to myself. I left the cabin door unlocked. I wouldn't be gone long. With that, I stepped onto the winding trail.
I adjusted the brim of my hat against the morning sun, my boots finding their familiar rhythm along the winding trail.
In two days, I'd be heading into the city to celebrate Elena's twenty-third birthday. My granddaughter had no idea what lay ahead of her, not really. But the time was near.
Soon, I would have to tell her. About the sword. About the legacy. About her father, and most of all... what it means to be a Guardian.
The thought made my chest ache. The sword. It had to be protected. It was part of a set of five; hidden among ten Guardians, scattered across the lands of Werestria. I had hidden the sword long ago. Noella knew where it was.
My only daughter. I had entrusted its care to her with a single vow: "If something happens to me, give it to Elena. No questions. No delay."
First, she would have to learn the truth. There are dragons in this world, and they look like us. They wield powerful magic, long lost to humankind. Then there was the hardest truth of all: some are good and some are not.
Second, the mark. The Mark of Aeltheryn was The Mark of the Guardian. It must be given willingly, passed down by blood. From elder to younger, and the knowledge must be shared before the mark can fully awaken.
Lastly... Simmon is her dragon guardian.
And one day, whether she understands it or not, she will bond with him. There had been an uneasy feeling clinging to me for weeks now. A chill at my back when no breeze stirred. The sensation of being watched—even followed—even in my own home.
Wynn shadows, I feared.
Maybe worse.
Still, I walked the mountain path each morning, hoping it would calm my soul.
It was sacred, in its way.
These morning walks.
I had shared them first with my dragon companion, Sigmon.
Then, with his wide-eyed boy, Simmon.
A heavy feeling sat behind my ribs, pressing deeper with every step.
I only hoped I had prepared them both.
Because one day soon, I would not be here.
At least…
At least they'll have each other.