Brynlie’s POV
The room fell silent. The air thickened. Sweat dripped from my forehead.
“How…?!” I shuddered, leaning back a step. My fingers curled hard in my fist, a chill crawled up my spine, settling at the base of my neck.
McKenzie straightened, her expression sharpening. “Someone must have intercepted it.”
Samuel shifted uneasily, “Or someone’s been watching your routes.”
Aurora swallowed hard, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the table.
Kalaya’s brows knit together. “But… why? And how did they know to target a message from her?” She pondered, trying to fit in a missing puzzle piece that wasn’t there.
Eli’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Because whoever attacked us knew about you before we did.”
Eric’s jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching. He didn’t look at any of us, just stared at the map.
“There’s nothing we can do,” he said finally. “If it was intercepted… and depending on the contents of the message, we’ll need to change plans.”
A ripple of unease passed through the group.
“Luckily,” Abigail started, “I wrote it in code. So, unless they can solve it, we might; and this is a big maybe, be in the clear.”
Eric exhaled sharply. “How was I supposed to read it then?”
“Because you were the one who taught it to me,” I reminded him.
“Oh.” His shoulders sagged a little.
Holly snorted. “Wow. Imagine forgetting the one useful thing you’ve ever taught someone.”
Samuel coughed to hide a laugh. Aurora didn’t bother hiding hers.
Eric glared at all of them. “For now,” he started, regaining his composure, “be wary of anyone outside this circle.”
“Right!” Everyone declared.
The tension finally hit me full force. I stumbled back a step, my hand rising to my forehead as the room tilted slightly.
“You guys okay?” Claire asked, her voice soft with concern.
“Yeah,” I said, steadying myself. “Just tired.”
“We could all use some sleep,” Holly added, stretching her arms above her head and nearly yawning mid‑sentence.
Eric nodded. “Agreed. Samuel, Aurora. Show them to the sleeping quarters. Make sure they get settled.”
Samuel straightened immediately. “Yes, Captain.”
Aurora gave a small nod, already moving toward the doorway. Kalaya followed first, rubbing her eyes as she walked beside Samuel. Holly trailed after her with a dramatic sigh, muttering “finally”. Aurora in front, guided Holly with patient amusement as Claire smiled following behind the group. I moved to follow them, stepping toward the doorway, just as McKenzie brushed past me, her shoulder grazing mine. She moved with purpose, like she had something urgent to do.
“Sorry!” Eli said raising a hand and rushed to catch up with McKenzie who was headed in the opposite direction. I heard Eric start to speak as I walked away, Abigail turning to walk next to me.
“Abby, there’s something you should know-”
But the words blurred, fading into the low hum of the hall as I walked pass the door way. A few seconds later, Abigail slipped out to walk beside me, her expression unreadable but just for a minute. The others led us along the hall’s outer wall.
Whatever Eric told her… I had an odd feeling about it.
As Samuel led the way, his boots thudding softly against the stone. The lanterns hanging overhead cast long, wavering shadows that stretched across the floor. Aurora walked beside Holly, her braids swaying gently with each step. Claire stayed a few paces behind, still smiling but I could tell she was keeping an eye on all of us as if she’d appointed herself our unofficial guardian. The further we walked, the quieter the hall became. The murmurs of frightened families faded into a low hum behind us, replaced by the distant drip of water and the soft rustle of blankets shifting.
Kalaya walked ahead with Samuel, rubbing her arms as though the chill of the underground air had finally caught up to her. Holly trudged beside her, saying how she wanted a mattress the size of a cloud and just as soft.” Aurora giggled under her breath.
Claire glanced back at me with a reassuring smile. “The sleeping quarters aren’t far. They’re not fancy, but they’re warm.”
Warm sounded like heaven.
We reached a narrow corridor branching off from the main hall. The walls here were lined with old wooden beams, some cracked, some reinforced with metal plates. It smelled faintly of dust and something herbal. Maybe whatever they used to keep the air from going stale.
“This way,” Samuel said, turning left. Aurora ran up ahead of him, pushing open a wooden door at the end of the small corridor. “Here we are.”
Inside, the sleeping quarters were simple but surprisingly cozy. Rows of bedrolls lined the floor, each with a folded blanket and a small lantern beside it. A few crates served as makeshift shelves, holding spare clothes, water flasks, and a scattering of personal belongings. The air was warmer here, softened by the glow of the several lanterns and the quiet breathing of people already asleep.
Kalaya let out a relieved sigh. “This… actually isn’t half bad.”
Holly flopped onto the nearest empty bedroll with zero hesitation. “I could sleep on a pile of rocks right now, so this is luxurious.”
Samuel chuckled. “Glad it meets your standards.”
Claire stepped inside and gestured toward a corner. “There’s space over there for the four of you. If you need anything, water, extra blankets; just ask.”
Aurora nodded eagerly. “We’ll be nearby.”
As they turned to leave, I sank onto a bedroll, exhaustion finally catching up with me. The lanternlight flickered softly, casting warm patterns across the ceiling. Abigail settled down beside me a moment later, her expression distant, like her mind was still back in that room with Eric. But for now… sleep was the only thing any of us could think about.
I slowly drifted off; darkness pressing in around me. Thick, heavy, suffocating. At first, I thought it was the sleeping quarters, the dim lanterns, the stone walls. But then the air changed. It grew colder. Sharper. The scent of dust and old wood replaced the underground musk.
My eyes opened. I wasn’t in the safe room anymore. I was back there. The ruined church of Dhal Melragh.
Moonlight filtered through the half-shattered roof, pale beams cutting through drifting motes of ash. The once‑grand arches were cracked and leaning. The stained‑glass windows were long gone, leaving jagged frames that whistled with the wind.
I looked up to see a gaping mouth from above. Dhal Melragh was a large mountain with a wide opening at the top where both sun and moonlight could spill in from. My wrists ached. I looked down, my hands bound in rope. My hands trembled as I lifted them.
No. Not again.
The floorboards creaked beneath me, warped from years of rain. My footsteps echoed too loudly, like the church was empty except for me… and the memory of what happened. A shadow moved near the altar. My breath hitched. I knew this part. I remembered every second of it, even though I wished I didn’t.
The altar was broken in half, stone split like something massive had struck it. Candles, long melted into twisted shapes sat in rusted holders. And behind them, in the darkest corner of the church, stood the figure who had taken me.
A silhouette. Tall. Still. Watching. My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
“Why am I here?” I whispered, though my voice sounded small, swallowed by the cavernous ruin. The figure didn’t answer. It never had. Not then. Not now.
Instead, it stepped forward, boots crunching on broken glass. The moonlight caught the edge of its cloak. Tattered, blackened, like it had been dragged through fire. A faint burnt, metallic clink echoed with each step. My pulse spiked. I tried to move back, but my legs felt heavy, like they had turned to stone. The church walls seemed to close in, the shadows stretching long and thin across the floor.
“There you are,” the figure said, its voice distorted, layered, as if two people were speaking at once. I froze. That wasn’t how it happened, what it said back then. The figure lifted a hand, pointing at me with a slow, deliberate motion.
“They’re coming.” My breath caught in my throat. “Who?” I whispered. The figure stepped closer, and the moonlight finally hit its face…
But the dream shattered before I could see it.
“Help!” A different voice echoed, trying to reach me. A loud crack split the air, like the church itself had snapped in half. I jolted awake. My chest heaved. Sweat clung to my skin. The lanternlight of the sleeping quarters flickered gently, warm and harmless, nothing like the cold moonlight from before.
But the echo of that voice lingered. “They’re coming.”
I sat upright, breath catching in my throat. My hands clenched the blanket so tightly my knuckles ached as the dream clung to me. I slowly look around. Everyone was still asleep, their breathing soft and steady. Kalaya curled into her blanket. Holly sprawled across her bedroll like she’d fought it into submission. Claire and Aurora rested near the doorway.
I turned to my right. Abigail laid a few inches away, her face relaxed, her hair fanned across the pillow. I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my heartbeat, and slipped out from under the blanket. The sounds from the hall felt quieter than before. Most of the citizens in the room slept in clusters, wrapped in blankets or leaning against makeshift walls of crates and supplies. I walked slowly, trying to piece together the dream. My footsteps echoed softly as I left the room passing Claire and Aurora.
Aurora’s eyes opened. “You ok?” She asked.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Just going to take a walk.”
I drifted along the wall staring at the floor, wondering, “Who was the person crying help?”
I made my way pass the narrow corridor until I entered the hall. A few people watched as I tread through large crates, makeshift tents, and groups of people. Some stared, whispering to each other. Their eyes held a mix of curiosity and fear. Like they weren’t sure if I was someone to trust or someone to avoid.
One older man stepped forward, holding a small wooden bowl. “Miss,” he said gently, offering it to me. “You look hungry. Care for a bowl?”
I blinked, surprised. “Oh. Thank you.”
He stared for a moment, concern wrinkling his brow. “You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just… a bad dream.”
He nodded knowingly. “Plenty of those going around.”
I continued walking after saying thank you once more, the bowl warm in my hands. The hall felt bigger now, emptier in the quiet. My thoughts kept circling back to the dream, to the voice that I didn’t recognize. It froze me in place for a bit.
A soft tug on my shirt pulled me from my thoughts. I looked down.
A small boy stood there, wrapped in a blanket far too big for him. His hair was short and messy; cheeks flushed from sleep. He stared up at me with wide, hopeful but curious eyes, and a tiny cut on the back of his hand, dried blood tracing a thin line across the skin as he clung to the blanket.
My heart softened. I knelt down to his level. “Hey there.”
He didn’t speak. Just looked at me, letting go of my shirt as he made a shy wave. I smiled gently, holding out my hand. He placed his tiny fingers on the edge of mine, grabbing them softly. I placed the bowl down on the floor and wrapped my other hand over his.
“Seren vela, by gentle glow. Restore what’s broken to rise and return,” I recited.
A faint green glow shimmered between our hands, and the cut slowly closed, leaving smooth skin behind. The lad’s eyes widened in awe.
“There,” I whispered. “All better.”
He beamed, the kind of smile that made the whole hall feel warm. Then jumped in excitement as he looked at his hand. Wrapping his arms around my neck, he gave a quick, tight hug before darting back to his family. I waved bye as he ran.
I froze for a moment before coming back to my feet. I grabbed the bowl of food and ate it as I stood. Once done, I had only taken a few steps before I heard the soft patter of small feet behind me. The little boy from before hurried back, blanket trailing behind him like a tiny cape. Stopping in front of me, staring up with wide eyes, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure what to do next.
I smiled. “Hey again.” Before replying, a familiar voice drifted from behind me. “There you are.”
I turned to see Abigail walking toward us, her hair still mussed from sleep, her expression soft but tired. She stopped beside me; her hand placed on my shoulder as he noticed the lad that clung to my side. The lad immediately ducked behind me, gripping the back of my shirt with both hands.
Abigail blinked, then knelt down slowly so he wasn’t towering over him. “Hey,” she said gently, offering a small smile. “It’s alright. I’m not scary, I promise.”
The boy peeked out, uncertain. Abigail reached out and ruffled his hair lightly. “See? Harmless.”
The boy giggled quietly. Two more kids wandered over, drawn by the sound. A boy with messy curls and a girl with freckles stopped in front of us, eyes wide with curiosity.
“How’d you do that?” the freckled girl asked, pointing at the healed hand.
“Yeah!” the boy added. “It was glowing! I saw it!”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “Oh. Um… just a little trick.”
“That wasn’t a trick,” the lad beside me said proudly, as if he’d discovered a secret. He motioned me to lean down and whispered in my ear. “It was magic,” he grinned.
Before I could respond, a pair of adults sitting nearby waved us over. “Let them sit,” one of them said kindly. “They seem to be restless.”
And just like that, Abigail and I were gently herded, practically dragged, into a small circle of blankets and sleepy faces. Kids shuffled aside to make room, some leaning forward eagerly, others hugging their knees. Abigail settled beside me, brushing her hair behind her ear. When our eyes met, we both couldn’t help but smile. It felt… normal. Strange, but comforting.
A tiny girl crawled closer, tugging on Abigail’s sleeve. “Can you tell us a story?”
“Yeah!” another chimed in. “A good one!” Abigail looked at me, eyebrows raised.
“A story, huh?” I shrugged. “We can try.”
The kids leaned in, eyes shining with anticipation. I leaned over, whispering in her ear.
“How about the one with the dragon?”
“Are you sure?” She replied, giving a worried face.
“Why not”
“Ok. If you’re fine with it.”
Abigail cleared her throat dramatically. “Alright. This is the story of the Dhel Mountain’s Dragon.”
Lifting her hands, Abigail gestured for me to follow. A soft glow sparked between our palms, swirling into tiny motes of light. Gasps rippled through the circle. Abigail grinned, weaving her fingers through the air. Her own light shimmered beside mine, the two colors blending into a soft, dancing glow. Together, our lights shifted, forming the silhouette of tall, misty peaks.
“Long ago,” Abigail narrated, “in the misty Dhel Mountains, five brave friends: Abigail, Holly, Kalaya, and two cheerful helpers, set out on a journey.” Tiny glowing figures appeared, climbing shimmering mountain paths. The kids leaned forward, captivated.
“They were searching for their missing friend,” I added, letting a small figure flicker into view, “who had suddenly vanished.” The children murmured.
“For days they climbed rocky paths and crossed sparkling streams. Until they discovered something surprising.”
“An ancient church,” Abigail said softly, shifting the glow into the shape of a crumbling stone church tucked into cliffs. The kids gasped.
“But something wasn’t right.” At the gate, stern glowing guards appeared.
“Why would guards protect a ruin?” Abigail asked the kids, who whispered theories among themselves. “With courage in their hearts,” she went on, “the friends slipped past the gate and pushed open the heavy doors.”
The glowing doors parted, revealing a small figure tied up inside.
“Inside,” I said, voice gentle, “they found Brynlie… surrounded by people up to no good.” The villains appeared in flickering red light. “Eldrin the greedy lord, a stern priest, a nervous sorcerer, a thief, and several guards.”
“They wanted to use an old relic,” Abigail explained, “but they didn’t understand that magic should never be taken by force.” The kids nodded solemnly.
“Abigail and her friends rushed in to help,” I said, letting sparks of light clash in the air. “Shouts, magic, swords…everything all at once.”
“They almost stopped the villains in time,” Abigail added. “Almost.” The relic in the center of the church glowed bright red. So bright the kids shielded their eyes even though it was only light.
“Then,” I whispered, “with a whoosh and a roar…” A dragon of swirling red light burst upward, wings unfurling across the stone wall. The children gasped, some reaching out instinctively.
“The sorcerer puffed out his chest,” Abigail said, deepening her voice, “‘I can control it!’” The dragon snorted a tiny flame that singed the sorcerer’s glowing eyebrows. The kids burst into giggles.
“But the dragon wasn’t angry,” I said softly. “It was scared.” The dragon’s glow softened as I dimmed the red into a warm orange.
“Brynlie reached out her hand,” Abigail narrated. I extended my palm, and the dragon lowered its head toward it.
“And she said, ‘Even dragons just need a little kindness.’” The dragon’s breath turned into shimmering sparks drifting like lanterns. The kids watched them float, mesmerized.
“With a grateful rumble,” I said, “the dragon curled its wings… And poof!” I finished, clapping my hands lightly. The dragon folded back into a glowing relic, calm and harmless.
“The friends cheered,” she said, “the mountains echoed with joy, and Brynlie smiled sleepily as friends caught her in a hug.” I let the lights fade into a soft, warm glow around the circle.
“And from that day on,” I finished, “whenever children in the Dhel Mountains felt afraid, they remembered the brave friends, the glowing relic, and the dragon who only needed someone to understand it.”
Abigail nudged my shoulder. “Not bad,” she whispered. I smiled, letting the light swirl brighter one last time before it faded into the dim hall. For a moment after the final spark faded, the circle was silent with wide‑eyes and held breath.
“That was a bright one,” Abigail acknowledged, slightly covering her eyes with her hand.
“Was that real?” One boy whispered, clutching his blanket.
“I knew dragons were real,” another declared proudly, as if he’d been waiting his whole life to be proven right. A little girl scooted closer to the spot where the glowing relic had been.
“If it turned into a dragon once,” she said, “it could do it again. Maybe tonight.”
A chorus of excited chatter rose around us, tumbling over each other:
“Did you really touch it?”
“Were you scared?”
“Can you make it come back?”
“Can dragons smell fear?”
Abigail laughed, holding up her hands. “One at a time, one at a time-”
“They’re not listening,” I murmured.
“Do they ever?” she whispered back, amused.
As the kids buzzed around us, an adult approached from the edge of the circle, a woman with tired eyes and a soft smile, her arms folded loosely. She watched the children with a knowing look, then shifted her gaze to us.
“That was… lovely,” she said quietly. “They needed that.”
Her smile held something deeper. Gratitude, maybe, or recognition. Abigail dipped her head in a small nod, and I felt a warm flush creep up my neck. When the woman drifted away, Abigail leaned closer, bumping her shoulder against mine.
“You know,” she said, voice low and teasing, “you make a pretty convincing hero.”
I blinked. “Me?”
“Mm‑hmm.” She smirked. “Brave, stubborn, saves the day with kindness. I mean, you did good back there.” I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my mouth betrayed me.
“It’s just a story.”
“Sure,” she said, drawing out the word. “Just a story, one that we lived.”
The kid who’d overheard Abigail’s last line sitting in front of us was the same one who walked up to me, frozen mid‑sit. His mouth hung wide open, eyes huge, as if he’d just witnessed the universe fold in half. We stared back at him for a beat, then both burst into laughter, the kind that comes out in sharp, helpless bursts. His expression didn’t change, which only made it worse.
I nudged Abigail’s shoulder, meaning it as a playful tap, but she leaned back at the exact wrong moment. The tiny crate she’d been perched on wobbled once… twice… and then she toppled backward with a startled squeak. Her legs flew up like she’d been launched, boots kicking the air before she disappeared behind the crate entirely. A thud followed, then her laughter. Loud, breathless, and ridiculously uncontrollable.
“Ohh! Are you okay?!” I giggled, doubling over as I tried not to join her on the floor.
“Yeah!” she wheezed between gasps. “I can’t…ha-ha…believe you did that…ha-ha!”
I reached out a hand to help her up, but she was laughing too hard to grab it. The kid finally blinked, as if cold water was poured on him, and scrambled to his feet, saying something about “heroes being chaotic.”
Before I could think of anything else, or help Abigail stop laughing, a slow, deliberate clap echoed behind us. One… two… three.
“Bravo.”
I turned as Abigail looked up behind, still on the floor. Eli stood a few steps away, hands clasped, eyebrows raised with an oddly impressed and amused expression. His hair was tussled like he sprinted over, and he wore a half‑smile that said he’d seen more than we’d hoped.
“I heard something going on,” he said, strolling closer. “Figured I’d check it out. Didn’t expect a full light‑show performance.”
Abigail groaned softly. “How much did you see?”
“Enough,” he said, grin widening. “Including you falling backwards,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh, come on!” She said climbing to her feet.
The kids swarmed him immediately, tugging at his sleeves, shouting over each other about dragons and glowing mountains. Eli shot us a helpless look as they dragged him into the circle.
Abigail chuckled. “Serves him right.”
“We’ll talk about that later!” He shouted as the kids crowded around him.
I laughed under my breath, watching Eli get overwhelmed by tiny hands and endless questions. However, my mind started wondering back to the dream I had.
“Hey Abby,” I said turning to her. “I had… an odd dream. About that night.”
ns216.73.217.151da2
and then Add to home screen.