A Dragon's Retribution [Book 3 in Rising Dragons]

Epilogue

The desert could be silent, a rarity anywhere, with nothing being heard – not even the wind. The place often appeared lifeless, with sand dunes being the only object in sight, barring the few scraggy bushes and lonely trees. However, silence rarely came to the desert. It was a place of solitude, timeless almost. Although few in numbers, the birds glided above on light wings, calling to one another when they landed. The desert was always quiet, that couldn't be denied, though the noise of the wind was often heard, it was not a lifeless place. Harsh, yes, but it was exactly the image it presented – a place of sand and wind. The wind moulded the sand, shaping sand dunes, hiding what once was and exposing relics of a time long passed.

The desert was a place were few species dared to live, dared to survive. It was a place of sand that always moved and dunes that continuously shifted. It was a place that was dangerous. It was where a young dragon stood with her head bowed before a large monument.

She was young, this dragon, two-years-old. She stood, wings closed, the dim light shining down upon her, brightening her sun-burnt orange scales; the colour of a fire that was about to die. Next to the monument that towered over her, she appeared so small. Insignificant. Unlike that laid in front of her, she did not rise into the sky, but rather remained on the ground. On top of the monument, the pillar, was a single statue – a stone dragon.

The young dragon, the alive dragon, thought she understood the one that the stone figure was based off. The statue was remarkable in its resemblance with wings outstretched and ready to protect, to defend, to survive. It appeared ready to move, almost alive.

Yet, she couldn't help but think that the stone had failed to capture who Thirak truly was, who he had been. In this place where blood had been spilt, Iro looked up at this stone figure and thought she understood Thirak better now – that bitter dragon who had found her when she was younger. She doubted anything could truly capture who that dragon had been, a statue could only present a picture of a perspective. It could never be the same. She was probably the only one who understood that dragon, who had known him, who knew that he was fallible and not always a hero. Regardless, she wasn't the only one who understood such things. There were others who knew him far better than she ever had, than she ever could. Only one remained on the same land as her though, the other two having left with the other dragons months early. She was the last dragon on the continent, alone, but it was not a lonely existence.

She was the last of them all.

She was the last of many things, actually.

Dropping her gaze away from the stone monument, with its stone dragon carving and etched names, she looked at the two-legged figure beside her. Curiosity was clear on his face, along with an echo of Iro's own hidden grief. They were certainly the last of many things – the last dragon, the last rider, the last dragon rider pair ever formed. He had never known Thirak, had only met Iro months after the final battle, but no one was going to deny their partnership – and no one had. They were together, two wholes linked by something magical.

Once again, she focussed on the monument, turning her attention away from her rider. There are four sides – one with names etched into the stone, and three with the same inscription in different languages on metal plating; elven, human, dragon. She could read all three, and so could her rider. They had looked at the engravings, but she hadn't read the words, rather paying attention to the stone statue and the names.

For that one side was covered in names – of those who fell, those who fought, all those who had tried their best to help. It was covered in names because they were the ones who deserved to be remembered.

It was simple, to take a step around the monument and stare at the words that form the inscription. She felt like it shouldn't be so simple or so easy, but it was. The monument rose into the sky, stone and grey and tall. It made her feel tiny, but the words – they offered something that she couldn't describe, a bundle of emotions and shapeless thoughts.

To those who fought, bothpast and present and future – for there will always be a fight ahead. To thosewho helped, maybe through betraying, maybe through escaping, maybe throughsupplying resources, maybe through carrying secrets. To those who tried theirbest only to fail, and to those who survived until the end – and evenafterwards.

This is for you. You fought and maybe you didn't believe in it, or maybe you did. We won, though. We won for those who had fallen in that first, terrible battle. We won for all those wronged, all those tortured souls. We won because we believed there was a cause to fight for.

We won. We made it to the end. We survived because we fought – or maybe despite it. To those in the future who will have to fight, because sometimes it is necessary to fight, make sure you know what you are fighting for. Make sure you believe in it.

There are a few, we would like to thank, for everything. Aaron and Daisuke – partial leaders of the rebellion and fighters in everything. You maybe started it all, and for that we thank you. Both of you. Daruka and Rako – you survived where almost everyone else fell. You found a reason to live and you fought again. You were always stronger than you believed. Aldrys and Fáelán – we would never have gotten anywhere in the end without you. The light on its own will only blind, and shadows without light do not exist. To all the others – you helped, you sacrificed. You are all heroes, whether you believe it or not. But remember, you are beings first – heroes last.

Thirak, we hope you find your place in the world. We hope you find the peace you never found here. We hope you find safety. We hope you fly. We hope you live somewhere where evil cannot touch you. We hope you find love and are loved in return. We hope you finally live a happy life. You deserve it all and much more.

Seeryath and Azrael

Staring at it, she tried to store the words in her mind, every single aspect of them. She wanted to ensure she remembered the slant of each character, the way some words were slightly wonky because it wasn't perfect because it had all been done by hand even when magic was the easier option. She wanted to remember its imperfections.

She wanted to remember that this had been where two major battles had been fought, that somewhere in these sands, Thirak had crashed and bled out, dying and not fighting. She wanted to remember that the Thirak who had ended here was not the one she could remember. He would have changed after he left her and her nest-mates. Azrael and Rya had said that Thirak would be proud of her, when she had met them briefly. They had said that Thirak had once believed in heroes, that Thirak would be at peace now.

She didn't know whether or not she believed it, but she knew what she did believe. She believed that there was good out there. She believed that good could come from bad.

She knew that perspectives were subjective and good and bad – sometimes you didn't know. You couldn't tell. She knew that everyone was biased and there was no single, right view. There would always be people who contradicted others. She knew that peace could exist, that equality could exist, that the world could be good – she had to believe it.

Iro, a two-year-old dragon who still felt like a hatchling as she stood before this monument, knew that there was nothing to fight now, but there was a world to explore, and with her rider by her side, they would explore. But this land was the one they were going to leave behind at long last. This was their final resting point.

Neither dragon nor rider dreamed of becoming heroes, but maybe they would become ones anyway.

Maybe heroes aren't made. Maybe they're stories. Maybe they're legends. Maybe they're martyrs. Maybe they just are. Maybe they are what people make of their stories, what people want to believe.

Maybe we make our own heroes. 

Edited: 2/02/2021