The idyllic, golden hills of Ascalon were a sight she’d come to appreciate in her time as a mercenary, scouting out the beautiful scenery that belied the deadly threat marching through its fields and valleys. Danielle didn’t cling to the same cultural pride as the others she fought alongside in the scouting squadron, but she knew why they bled and toiled and died for this one small piece of land amidst hostile territory.
Ascalon. Ebonhawke. They were home to this small band of people, the last Ascalonians to remain after the rest of their people here became vengeful, violent ghosts in the wake of King Adelbern’s final, defiant act against the Charr legions. Home was everything, generations who were born, lived, and died to be laid to their final rest in this golden land. And an endless siege would never break the spirits of those who held out for hundreds of years already.
Plenty of sneers met her when she’d first signed on as a mercenary, passing into the city alongside the caravan she escorted as hired muscle. Unknown, holding no devout loyalty to either human kingdom or even Lion’s Arch. Someone who fought for money. Dishonorable. She could have explained her truth, how she was searching for her place in the world after growing up in Hoelbrak, seeking her legend to build. The norn raised her, and so humanity felt like a stranger to her.
Maybe this will help me connect. Get it. Maybe this is what I’m meant for.
At least, that was her hope. A hope currently buried in the far back of her mind as she fought against a charr warrior whose greatsword and claws sought her blood.
Before now, she’d never really encountered much of the charr. Sure, sometimes they would pass through Hoelbrak for trade or just indulge in the food and drinks, but Danielle never sought them out to speak with them. She’d been told from a young age of the tensions between humankind and charr, the longstanding war, and so she avoided interacting with them as much as possible when they passed their way through the norn city. Stories of a storm of claw and steel and fangs tearing through their foes, inventions of metal and fire that sounded impossible and in total opposition to everything the norn embodied. Stories that now, older and setting out on her own path, she finally encountered the truth of herself.
Auburn fur and golden eyes glared out from behind a metal helmet, blood dripping from numerous wounds in gaps of the heavy armor. A foe like this meant quick strikes, keeping her distance, inflicting death by a thousand cuts as her teacher called it. Except she’d made a mistake, and one single error gave this charr the opening he needed in this deadly dance.
She’d misstepped, feeling her footing slip down a slight drop behind her as she’d ducked and weaved to avoid the greatsword’s cleaving arc. In that moment, his shoulder rammed into her, metal spikes on the pauldron piercing her leather armor and puncturing the flesh beneath slightly. Nothing critical hit, but her back slammed into the earth before an armored, clawed foot found its place upon her chest to pin her against the earth. “Nice try,” the gruff voice growled, battered steel pressing to the side of her neck. Despite his weapon’s size, he lifted it rather effortlessly with a single claw. “Going to beg for mercy with your final breaths, human?”
Danielle darted her eyes sideways to the distant sounds of combat. Her scouting squadron retreated further and further away, pursued by three of this warband that ambushed them: another heavily armored charr, one who weaved lightning around his staff, and an engineer with a flamethrower sweeping the area. No chance they’d return for her with their losses so far, especially as a sniper’s rifle provided a steady rhythm of suppressing fire.
So much for leave no man behind, even if I missed the signs we were being stalked.
“Honestly? Not getting paid nearly enough for this.” Danielle knew better than to hurl defiant insults as she was so used to hearing her squadmates shout in battle. “Look, got nothing against you doing your mission. I’m just a hired mercenary for scouting missions. And since they already didn’t really like me and they’re clearly going to leave me for dead, don’t suppose you’d let me pack my gear and hike back to Hoelbrak?”
Tense silence lingered as this warrior gazed down at her… before a rough chuckle escaped that tooth-filled maw. “Well, well. This one has a sense of humor. Lieutenant? Restrain this one. Since she likes to talk, maybe she’ll give us some intel.”
A feminine charr, her fur bright white with stripes of orange, stepped forward quickly. How long had she been nearby? Danielle couldn’t recall noticing her presence while dueling this group’s commander, but then again she’d been rather preoccupied by not dying. “Sir, we’re taking this one captive? Those weren’t our orders.”
“Maybe not, but if she’s a soldier for hire? Maybe she’ll value her life enough to tell us where her scouting party is camped.”
Still pinned, Danielle could only watch as the white-furred charr sheathed her dual daggers and wrenched Danielle’s wrists upwards after kicking the bow aside. The auburn charr picked up the weapon with one claw, examining the craftsmanship and leaving his lieutenant to bind Danielle’s wrists together with rope. With any luck, he’d recognize the norn make and realize she told the truth about this. When he met her gaze, he only grinned and placed the shortbow upon his back, the weapon comically small in comparison to the charr.
Great. He wanted a trophy. Claws grabbed her roughly by the shoulders in the midst of her annoyance at the thought of him taking a bow that had been gifted to her, then the motion abruptly halted… and Danielle knew why almost immediately.
Tremors in the ground, distant but growing rapidly. Birds taking to the skies in the distance with panicked cries. A rumbling like a never ending peal of thunder. An earthquake unlike anything witnessed in mortal lives. Violent shaking growing and growing and growing–
“Burn me. Kara, do you see that?” The warrior shifted his foot away, squinting at something in the distance. The female charr, Kara, released Danielle to turn… and the human could have sworn she saw that fur stand on end. Taking this chance, Danielle rolled over to try and catch a glimpse of her own of whatever could possibly strike these two charr motionless with fear and then immediately forgot to breath.
In the far distance, a mountain was moving. Rising, rending the earth beneath as wings of stone spread forth with such length that it threatened to blot out the sky. A single massive head rose, burning purple fury in those eye sockets visible even this far away as it roared.
“Dragon… A dragon! Spirits preserve us, it’s an Elder Dragon!” Danielle shouted, words almost lost beneath a roar that all of Tyria felt.
Springing into action, the warrior roared as well. “Erebus! Send the retreat flare! Kara, secure our prisoner! We’re–”
Another roar, and the Elder Dragon took to the skies with a flap of massive wings that seemed like they shouldn’t be capable of making a mountain fly. A storm gathered about this massive force of nature, purple lightning arcing through dark clouds, the dragon beginning its path southwards engulfed in this storm that lashed out at the land beneath it. From that storm, the dragon breathed, a stream of purple fury that washed over the land and everything that walked it. Where the stream of flame touched and consumed, everything was left changed, a scar upon Tyria itself of gray, necrotized earth. A single, massive finger dragging its way southwards, nothing holding any hope of halting its progress.
And in that scar, movement. Whatever creatures unfortunate enough to be in the dragon’s path changed forevermore as Danielle saw before with the ice corrupted creatures and norn, things that Jormag’s champion sent back against Hoelbrak over the years every time some foolhardy hunter sought to slay the beast. The movement of countless figures marching south after the force of nature and fury that corrupted them, created them.
Claws hauled Danielle up and slung her unceremoniously over Kara’s shoulder, sudden jolting movements leading to a sharp inhale of pain. Just because the puncture wounds weren’t severe didn’t mean it failed to hurt. Still, she didn’t mind the charr deciding to not just leave her for dead. Yet. “Jehu! Run!”
“Not without the others!”
A snarl, but not one of anger. Fear. Even these killing machines could fear. “I said run!”
The warrior, Jehu, tensed. Conflicted as he looked to the distant warband, Erebus the sniper retreating on all fours with the retreat flare long forgotten. With a fierce curse, Jehu turned to follow Erebus as the sniper rushed past him, and Danielle could see the crushing weight of guilt for the briefest moment. Even as enemies, Danielle felt a pang of sympathy.
In the face of an Elder Dragon, what could anyone do?
The distant shouts of charr and human both as they realized the danger far too late were quickly lost beneath the crackling fury of the dragon’s breath. Danielle had a particularly clear view of the devastation as this massive, raging storm passed overhead. Her hairs stood on end, purple lightning within the clouds scorching the earth beneath powerful blasts that left craters in their wake. Her eyes watched its path, calculating trajectory, heart pounding with such strength she feared her ribs might crack.
Moving quickly. Squads there won’t make it. Not aimed directly for us, but breath spreads. How far? Is it angling?
All other sound lost beneath the storm, Danielle watched the stream of purple breath pour out over the land, leaving that gray scar in its wake. She felt the head even from here, a sudden jolt as her captors leapt from an overhang and took cover within an outcropping, three charr and a human huddled together as the world around them felt like it ended…
The roar dulled, grew distant. Ringing ears, heart thudding, Danielle took a moment to realize she was alive and not currency dead. Or worse, a dragon minion.
“Sound off,” Jehu’s voice came, strength clear despite the breathlessness.
“Unharmed. Nearly singed my tail.” Erebus, taking rifle in hand, began to peer over the outcropping they took cover beneath.
“Unharmed.” Kara had dropped Danielle to the ground, both daggers in hand as their surfaces shimmered with heat. Her attention covered above, in case whatever hostels left in the dragon’s wake came pouring over.
“Your prisoner is also okay, for what it’s worth,” Danielle grunted, really wishing she had her hands free right about now as she rolled onto her side. The charr were not amused, but they seemed more concerned with the fact an Elder Dragon literally just passed overhead. “Where a dragon goes, so do its followers. Icebrood are nasty. Not sure what this one’s got.”
Jehu growled softly, but the anger didn’t seem directed at her. “Eyes?”
“Heading south towards–” Erebus cut off, focusing through the scope of his rifle as he peered into the distance, then slowly lowered the rifle. “The siege. These things are overwhelming our forces. City is breached, too. They’re all going to be slaughtered!”
Kara scowled. “Casualties will be high, but if the human city falls, it’ll be a victory for the charr.”
“A hollow one,” Erebus grumbled. “Would it be worth it if a dragon’s minions ended up killing most of our forces?”
Danielle watched Jehu, his expression troubled. She could tell he was weighing options, none of them good, and he’d just lost half his warband. If she was in his boots, she’d likely have a healthy amount of guilt, too. So she took her chance, addressing him directly in a low, even tone. “Look, I’m not your enemy. An Elder Dragon is a bigger problem than charr and human conflicts. If they’re like Jormag, they’ll have corrupted forces, champions. If we want to survive, we need to work together.”
Gold eyes narrowed, meeting her gaze. No immediate response from the leader of this warband, but Kara spat and looked back at the human with a snarl. “You must think we’re fresh from the fahrar, mouse. We wouldn’t trust or help you, and–”
Jehu’s raised claw cut her off. “Release her,” he ordered, and when his second began to protest, he growled threateningly. “That’s an order, Kara.”
The elementalist flinched as if struck, teeth still bared in fury though she didn’t argue any further. With a huff, she rose into a low crouch and approached Danielle while readying a dagger. The roughness of her arms being grabbed nearly wrenched her arms from their sockets, but in one swift move of a dagger shimmering with the heat radiating from its metal, the ropes fell away leaving only angry red marks in their wake. “Try anything and I’ll gut you where you stand,” Kara growled, the words a promise. “You–”
“Contacts! Cont– agh!!” Erebus’s shout of alarm and pain made all eyes snap his way as two creatures pounced upon him in a flash of gray and purple.
Flesh lithified, some of it recognizable still as the charr they used to be, thicker sections of rock-like armor laced with glowing purple crystal grown over or tearing through what once was flesh. Jagged spikes of stone and crystal jutting from their upper back, encasing their faces like helmets of that strange stone, curved horns now twisted.This was the Elder Dragon’s corruption. This is what those purple flames that washed over the land before it turned the living into.
Erebus screamed as claws tore at his leather armor, seeking what flesh they could find. Kara’s response was immediate, a sensation like standing within a thunderstorm overcoming Danielle before the elementalist burst forward like lightning itself, a clap of thunder followed immediately by a surge of electricity that knocked back and staggered these horrid new foes. Jehu turned as well, preparing to heft his greatsword to intervene and save his comrade… only for claws to grab his horns with violent shaking, a third creature with an even more armored body seeking to break the charr’s neck.Danielle sprung into action, adrenaline granting the strength to lift a greatsword far heavier than she typically favored to cleave it at this third crystalline creature’s neck.
A jolt ran through her arms, rattling bone, and for a split-second she feared maybe these things were made of solid stone. But the creature flailed, reaching for the weapon now partially embedded into the side of its neck that purple blood now flowed freely from with spasming limbs. Jehu took the opportunity to pull himself free, claws clutching the weapon’s hilt and wrenching hard with a furious roar before the creature’s stony head thudded to the ground. He wasted no time in joining Kara to dispatch the other two, and so the unarmed Danielle focused on what she could do in this moment.
Hand reaching into her supply kit, she crouched beside Erebus, who’d pulled himself away from immediate danger. His armor was a shredded mess, blood matting his black fur. Each breath sounded labored, either from an actual internal injury or just the sheer amount of pain the charr suffered. Danielle certainly never saw a charr in this kind of state before, and to say it was jarring was an understatement. “Where’s the worst of it?” she questioned, searching the tattered remains of the armor and fur around his midsection.
The initial response was a threatening snarl, years of conflict and killing the only thing a charr could think of when approached by a human in the heat of battle. But when he spied the bottle of unguent and bandages, the hostility faded. Mostly. “I don’t need help from a human.”
“Look, I’m not loyal to Ascalon or Kryta. The norn raised me, and I swear upon the Spirits that I’m trying to help. If it makes you feel better? Just picture me as a really short norn. My family among them would love that.” Her hands moved as she spoke, identifying the worst of the injuries to triage. He just needed to be stabilized enough to return to his people, should they survive this nightmare.
A grunt began his response. “Fine. Even if your bandages wouldn’t fit a cub.” She took that as a good sign to continue his work. An attempt at a joke meant he wouldn’t tear out her throat for causing any pain while treating the wound.
She glimpsed movement out the corner of her eye, an enraged Kara preparing to advance on her for daring to touch her warband mate, but the armored claw of her superior held her back. The two of them had finished dispatching the lithified charr that attacked and now Jehu spoke in hushed tones, his calm and even voice a contrast to Kara’s indignation as slowly her anger died down to a simmer and the flames that licked at her daggers followed suit. Danielle grew keenly aware of just how close she’d come yet again to being attacked by the white-furred elementalist, but she did her best to not let her frustration show. Jehu studied her with an intense gaze, but she knew why. This was family, and in a single moment he just lost half to an Elder Dragon. “Status report?”
“Bought him some time until you can get him to a proper medic. His shooting arm’s a wreck, lost a good amount of blood. But you need to get him better aid than I can. Didn’t pack my norn-sized bandages and salves, after all.” Not entirely a joke, but a subtle emphasis to what she’d claimed: she wasn’t their enemy.
Deadly claws scratched thoughtfully at a furred chin, and he tilted his head to listen to something distant with his four ears. “New plan. Kara, secure Erebus for transport. Human–”
“Danielle,” she interjected as she stood straight. “The name’s Danielle.”
For a moment, tense silence, then Jehu broke into a faint, amused grin that showed just a few of those deadly fangs. “--Danielle, then. Consider yourself conscripted.” One claw reached back for her bow upon his back, the trophy he claimed for conquering her, and tossed it to her. “You get us to where I say we go, you get to walk free. I lose any of my soldiers? Well, I’ll toss you to whatever those things are as a distraction. See if a human can outrun them.”
No words, only a curt nod of understanding before she checked over the bow. The familiar weight in her hand felt comforting in the face of Elder Dragon minions. Movement over the ridge, the scrabbling of claws on rock and snapping jaws. More crystalline creatures found their scent. Kara already had Erebus’s good shoulder slung across her back, Jehu advancing forward a step with his greatsword to be the group’s shield. Her own arms raised the bow to a ready position, exhaling softly to prepare herself for the battle to come alongside her temporary allies.
And from the other side of the ridge, gnashing crystalline death came for them.
Ebonhawke still stood.
Against the iron of the sieging charr, against the fury of an Elder Dragon that ravaged Ascalon, the city still stood, albeit far more damaged than when her scouting party left some days ago. The charr siege lay in ruins, blood and bodies all that remained of a force even the Ascalonians could never overcome. She carefully weaved her way through the siege’s remains to the massive hole blasted into the city’s wall, scorch marks indicating powerful blasts of lightning obliterated the stone structure with relative ease.
The Elder Dragon.
Ebonhawke barely missed being in the dragon’s direct path. For some reason it had veered west, perhaps more concerned with a target other than humanity’s last stronghold in Ascalonian lands. Still, that didn’t mean the city avoided any damage whatsoever, a fact even more apparent once in the city itself after convincing the exhausted guards at the wall of her identity. The patch loosely sewn onto her leather jacket at least helped with that.
“Spirits,” she breathed, wide eyes taking in the carnage that awaited her within. By now she’d grown accustomed to the heavy scent of blood in the air, the death that clung to battlefields. This seemed almost worse than outside, Ebon Vanguard and Seraph working side-by-side to deal with the sheer number of bodies. No one looked unscathed, armor once polished and shining now smeared with blood and grime, metal rent by claws and fangs. The crystalline creatures were piled up until the humans had time to figure out what to do with the remains while the fallen were laid out and covered with whatever could be gathered and used.
Not every covered figure had dog tags laid atop them. And not every sheet covered a fully intact body.
Her stomach churned as she clamped down on that direction of thoughts, focusing instead on finding the Ebon Vanguard officer her squad reported to. Snippets of conversation clued her in on the events she’d missed when out in the field during the dragon’s rise. The Elder Dragon. The chaos of a losing battle. Fighting alongside Charr prisoners. The Queen’s impossible illusion that fooled even the dragon minions and saved the lives of Ebonhawke’s remaining defenders and citizens.
By comparison, her own struggle was downright minor.
“Lieutenant Taggart?” The Vanguard officer turned to face her, one eye covered in bandages though the permanent scowl on his face remained just as condescending as she remembered. “Danielle. Scouting party under Corporal Kellam.” She stood at attention, deciding not to press her luck in annoying him.
“Right. The mercenary.” The word spoken with such disdain and venom it took all her self-control to hold back a glare that equaled Taggart’s in this moment. He stared at her, then searched past her as if expecting to see someone else approach he’d rather talk to. “And where is the rest of the unit? And Kellam?”
No sugar-coating this. Not with all that happened today. “Gone, sir. A charr band ambushed us. I got split up as they retreated, and then the dragon…” She swallowed hard, remembering that awful moment, the screams lost beneath crackling fury. “They were turned. Corrupted. I’m the only one left.”
“And why weren’t you with them?” A simple question, but the delivery of it spoke volumes.
Why didn’t she die with them?
The anger burned in her gut as she kept her tone even and mustered all her willpower to avoid flying into a yelling fit at this man who’d rather her dead than standing here before him. “The charr commander separated me from them. He was about to finish me off when the dragon rose.”
A grunt served as the only response as Taggar eyed her and her injuries. Fending off those monsters with Jehu left her armor ruined and several spots bandaged hastily. Even with those injuries, she fell far short of whatever measure he had in mind. “You’re dismissed. And don’t even think about asking for pay, merc. Good sons and daughters of Ascalon died here today.”
He turned his back to her once more and that was it. No further discussion. The rage practically boiled within her at the realization he truly rathered her be among the dead, like somehow she was beneath the others because she was no Ascalonian patriot–
Let it go. He had a problem with you from day one. It’s not worth it.
A sharp exhale, and she turned away from where he stood barking orders at Ebon Vanguard while they continued recovery efforts. Better to leave now before she did something she might regret. What was the phrase?
Let Grenth take the fool.
She held no love nor allegiance to the human gods, but it was an apt saying for this moment. She’d grab her things, pick up her waiting alpine wolf companion, and find the safest route back to the Shiverpeaks now that the dragon complicated matters here. While she could remain and help out efforts here, the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Why help where she was unwanted, even despised by some?
As the anger gradually settled into a simmer in her gut, she pressed through the courtyard to seek the barracks, already focusing her mind instead on next steps to take as she reached up a hand to clutch at where the broken amulet hung beneath her shirt, letting the cool metal soothe her rage. And then she stopped. For a moment she didn’t know why she did, searching the courtyard for something that may have caught her subconscious attention. And then she realized it: a warmth at the back of her mind, the faintest brush of a presence. Her eyes searched the courtyard again quickly, spotting only Seraph and Vanguard at work, before she scanned higher as if a sniper might be perched somewhere overhead.
Two sets of eyes met hers from the balcony of some overheard tower. One, the intense stare of a fair-skinned woman in some noble-looking blue outfit that felt fairly out of place for somewhere like Ebonhawke, her blue-green eyes piercing as if studying the depths of her very soul. The other, the dark-browned gaze of a Krytan woman in a white dress with gold trimming that awfully resembled–
Krytan banners. That’s the Queen?
Queen Jennah. Not at all what she expected to see of a fancy human monarch. No crown or robes of jewels that were worth more than she’d ever glimpse in her lifetime. For a moment the Queen seemed almost… amused? Or maybe distance and exhaustion addled her perception. She remembered that the Queen was to make an appearance here, but it hadn’t mattered much to Danielle at the time as she prepped for the doomed scouting mission. Even if from Kryta, that was another life, a childhood barely remembered and a home long lost. The krait saw to that.
No salute, no bow, no sign of reverence or respect that she imagined human rulers expected from their subjects. Danielle only met each of their gazes with a dismissive shrug, then continued along her way to the barracks. Kryta, Ascalon, she didn’t care for their politics, and coming to work as a mercenary didn’t get her any closer to what she’d sought since setting out from Hoelbrak years ago:
A purpose.
As the young woman in the courtyard below sulked away with that air of defiance and anger, Queen Jennah allowed the warm smile on her face to fade. No loyalty to nations. Lost and angry and alone. A fighter without purpose. Her mind had been a storm, one her loyal protector pointed out first as they discussed the day’s events and what came next. And what they’d glimpsed just before the woman felt the intrusion and met their stares?
A child of Kryta, torn from her home. Pain and trauma shattering memories, leaving fragmented shards. Even more than that, she’s their spitting image.
She thought back on her time as a young child, while her father still yet lived and ruled Kryta. A pair of Shining Blade, warm caring and gentle, speaking proudly of their own young daughter and who supported her even as her father’s health continued its slow decline. Her dark eyes met Anise’s, and for the briefest of moments the countess seemed uncharacteristically shocked. As if both of them had seen a ghost step forth from the past. “You noticed it as well?” Jennah questioned softly.
In a blink, Countess Anise regained her composure and returned her Queen’s gaze. “It was difficult not to. Bare as those glimpses were, I still recognize the ravaged village they were from. Not only that, but she looks so much like them, I doubt it’s a mere coincidence.”
Jennah stared back out in the direction the young woman headed, brow furrowed thoughtfully. The tragic, hushed news of the two murders of loyal Shining Blade timed far too closely with a krait raid upon a quiet Krytan village with no sign of where the many captives were taken. As young as she’d been at the time, she still recalled the details quite vividly. Before Anise rose to the ranks of Master Exemplar, she’d been part of the attempt to find the two agents’ next of kin. All of the pieces indicated that this could very well be a child missing for so many years.
And if it really is her? If she somehow survived the krait all those years ago?
“Have one of yours question whoever was in charge of the more recent scouting parties. Find out all they can. I believe we may need to keep a closer eye on this one.”
Anise departed with barely a sound to speak with one of the Shining Blade guards at the doorway. If the woman was who they suspected, then this lost daughter of Kryta would finally be called home.
Altair and Letha Roivas deserved that much.
Snow crunched underfoot, each step like a slow admission of defeat. Knapsack slung over one shoulder, alpine wolf at her side trotting along with unceasing vigilance, Danielle traversed climates far more home to her than Ascalon could ever be. She’d been gone so long, seeking her legend afar, that she’d come to miss the home she’d long since taken for granted.
If only her homecoming could be a more joyous one.
One hand came to rest over her bandaged side beneath her shirt, shifting her mind to the rumors and whispers that spread faster than her own feet carried her.
Destiny’s Edge, shattered. Eir Stegalkin, limping home dejected and defeated. The Elder Dragons, as unstoppable as ever, a force that would slowly bleed Tyria dry of every last living thing upon its surface.
It felt impossible that a group as legendary as Destiny’s Edge, which already felled so many dragon champions, could come apart in the blink of an eye. They’d done so much, seemed on track to finally take down an Elder Dragon itself. What could have happened? She almost didn’t want to believe it, yet as she ascended the path to that familiar dwelling and noticed the smoke drifting lazily into the sky, her heart sank. Truth to the rumors after all. She hadn’t been the only one to fail.
“Strider, why don’t you go see Fierena, get a treat from her and visit the pack some? Maybe make sure the first aid I did on you from that last dragon minion encounter is still holding up.” The alpine wolf’s ears perked, but she could tell he hesitated to leave her side. “It’ll be okay. You deserve a better meal than what I’ve been able to scrounge up the last few days.” With this final confirmation and the nuzzle of a cold nose into her palm, Strider lopped off to the Wolf Lodge with the barest wag of his tail. That left Danielle alone to face a reunion she suddenly dreaded more than the claws of any beast.
After all, she’d left Hoelbrak to find her purpose, her reason to fight. And after these few years of wandering, she still failed to find it.No legend to speak of. No place in the world. Even though she’d survived a dragonrise, it came with a cost, lives she was helpless to save as they’d been in the dragon’s path. Her homecoming was one of shame and failure, and now she’d face someone who apparently just endured the same.
The courtyard of the steading held more statues than she remembered since she left four years ago, many bearing the likenesses of norn figures she vaguely recognized. One statue stood out, completely out of place amongst the norn and the towering monument to Jora beside it: an older asura, kind in demeanor yet with just a hint of mischief in his eternal, stony gaze. A feat of stoneworking that never ceased to amaze Danielle no matter how many times she witnessed its crafter work. She started to approach to examine the inscription at its base when a small, surprised woof caught her attention. In the doorway stood a massive, black-furred wolf nearly as large as herself, an alert guard who could have stalked up silently and pounced without warning but instead appeared surprised as much as a dire wolf could be. He padded across the snow towards her, studying her with an intensity and intelligence beyond any wolf she knew. He sniffed at her, huffing before turning to escort her inside. Garm knew she was hurt, and Danielle thought for a moment he actually scolded her with his gaze.
Wouldn’t be the first time the dire wolf was utterly exasperated with her.
“Garm? Who’s there?” The voice from within sounded exhausted, a weariness beyond compare. Danielle stepped from snow to wood and shrugged off the coat that hid the worst of her armor’s damage. There’d been little opportunity for repairs on the course of her journey here, not with how long they’d take and how quickly she wanted to return to Hoelbrak. The norn woman who spoke stepped away from the block of stone she studied so intensely yet remained untouched by her tools. Eir Stegalkin towered over her, healing from whatever battles she faced, her expression shifting rapidly from surprise to relief to gentle warmth despite her clear exhaustion. “It’s been some time, Little Wolf.” That nickname, given to her as far back as Danielle could remember, broke open the dam of emotions pent up since long before Ebonhawke. One large, comforting hand came to rest on her shoulder. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
Danielle’s gaze fell, a myriad of answers she could relay playing in her mind, but each inadequate in some way… and finally the only answer to come was tears that felt searing against her still chilled face as she stood in this place that was, for so long, all she knew. The only home she could remember.
Danielle, teasingly called Eirsdottir by some because she had no memories of the family she originally belonged to, was home.
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