Of Dragon Riders and Shadows

Interlude

"Please," she begs, voice tiny and terrified and yet so resilient. "It hurts..."

At first, Phantom can do nothing but stand, dumbfounded. Is this the case of a mistaken prayer? It must be. He does not deal with hurt children; he is not his sisters and brothers.

Yet, as the keening sounds of a little girl travel through his being, Phantom decides to be reckless. The girl is entreating the wrong person – but he is the one who has heard her. He must do something. No-one needs his help right now, except the girl who has now given up on words. That's alright – he prefers raw feelings anyway.

Phantom, bracing against the pain, clutches his sword and focuses. Soon, he is but dust and air, and alights at a beautiful home. It reminds him too much of his own palace, and as such he does not bother asking why the prayer comes from someone clearly well-off.

In front of him is the little girl whose voice he's heard, curled up in a corner of an opulent room. He notes her puffy eyes, the bruises on her wrist, and the lesions on her soul. Phantom has never done this before, does not know the protocol; every-one else knows exactly who they are summoning. For lack of a better thing to do, he materializes, gauging her reaction so he knows how to proceed.

He expects many reactions, from anger to disgust to distrust – "I was not asking for you!" – but he does not receive that. Instead, the child spots him, eyes widening. Pushing against the wall, she straightens, and blinks at him. The scrutiny, so different than any he has experienced before, lasts eons.

"What...are you...doing here?" she sniffs, looking as perplexed as he feels.

"I am here through your summons," he speaks, trying gentle. He does not think he pulls it off. The child continues her confused blinking.

Realization slowly dawns at the lack of recriminations. The child was not expecting anyone; she had not been praying to him, or to anyone else. The Laws are clear, in such situations. As his services are not required, he can leave and never look back. 'Tis what his brethren would do.

Phantom is not his brethren, as Laverne had just made clear. He does not leave. Instead, he crouches, and asks permission to hold her wrist. The bruises fade. She is still hurting in her soul; Phantom, used to wars and battlegrounds, draws on his experience with wounded soldiers.

Thus he begins to spin a story. At first, he worries it is too harsh and cruel for such a child to take comfort in, but he draws conviction and strength from her now-eager eyes and the softening of her face. By the first story's end, she has bridged the gap between them, and is snuggling by his side. Phantom only leaves when he senses the approach of an adult.

"Do not hesitate to call upon me," he says softly before disappearing.

What a stupid thing to say, he tells himself later. He is on his throne again. "Why would she call upon a god such as me?" Phantom merely hopes that he was able to bring a tiny bit of solace to that hurting little girl.

It should be the end of that. The girl never prays to him again, and he attends his own acolytes. Warmongering is a lucrative business in the land of men and women right now, and so Phantom is kept busy.

That is, until he is called by another such innocent child – a boy trying to protect his younger siblings. There is no hesitation this time. Using his powers of deception, he hides the three children from sight until their monster of a guardian tires, and only departs when one of his Rogues pray to him.

After that particular incident, the kinds of children he has no dealings in continue to pray to him; unlike that first little girl, it is deliberate. They want him. Phantom still has no idea what do to, but he tries his best. He hides children, tells them stories, heals their physical wounds. The talkative ones, he listens to them. When an adult is particularly hurtful or violent, he hurts them the way he always has. The only difference is that no-one asks him to; it makes such things bearable, he realizes. He always responds to their calls.

It takes quite a bit of time for him to realize that he has a new mandate. Not one that he chose under duress, not one dictated by the Laws. A mandate that comes from the children who call upon him. He has no regrets.

Unbeknownst to him, there is a folk tale – powerful stuff, them – that hurt children tell each other.

"There is a god out there who always responds, who listens, who helps, who cares for you, should you pray to him. There is someone who gives you a family, a parent, when you have none."

Slowly but surely, Phantom becomes not only the god of the Wastelands. He is the patron god of lost children who become found. But that is another story altogether.