The Last Dragon

Sky

One year earlier...

It was a beautiful day on the Isle of Eilean Shona. The large, clear lake reflected the bright cerulean sky dotted with birds, and the rolling green hills rippled in the slight breeze.

Sky walked slowly through the wreckage of her town, pondering the same question as she had for the past 3 years. How did this happen? What did I do wrong?

When she arrived back at the wrecked town, Sky found Raymond, the town elder waiting for her.

"Thoughts botherin' you again?" he asked with his majestic Scottish brogue.

"No." Sky replied firmly. A knowing look crossed his face, one very familiar to Sky. Oh boy.

"It's not your fault, you know that, don't ya?"

"Yes, it is." She countered stubbornly. This dialogue was not the first of its kind, and Sky, giving up on going anywhere with it, always had the same answer to his inquiry.

"Well, you'll come around someday." he sighed, turning away and slipping between two dilapidated houses and into the mass of villagers.

No matter what you say Raymond, it was my fault. You'll never change that.

Sky slowly made her way home, eyes downcast. The sun had dipped below the hills, giving the sky an eerie grey-green tint. It reflected off the half-burnt timbers of her roof, only adding to the damage.

The paneling was charred, turning to ash in many places to reveal the cracked skeleton of the structure.

She pushed the scorched door open halfheartedly, which let out a mournful creak. "Welcome home, me." she sighed, "so glad to be back."

The interior of her house was just as sad as the exterior. The once vibrant paintings were now faded and ripped, as were the bed sheets of her small cot. Sky plopped down on her bed, defeated and exhausted.

One day down, almost a lifetime's worth to go. She looked around her home, remnants of her life scattered across the floor. The life she never chose, never wanted, yet led anyway. And look how that's turned out for everyone.

I should never have been chosen to lead. No matter that I inherited the role, if someone else had been in charge...if the town had been better protected...those hundreds of innocents who died might have lived to see this sunset.

Sleep, like many other nights, way far away from Sky, so she took to drawing. Projecting scenes from the attack, printed painfully vividly in her mind as if it was happening before her.

As she moved the pencil across the paper, a stray tear rolled down her cheek, landing on the scene. Ink splotches blossomed from her tears, expanding like the droplets of blood that had covered every surface the night of the attack. She could still hear the screams in her mind, the horrible fires that swept people away, the feeling of helplessness as her town was razed to the ground.

Sky forced herself to keep moving the pencil, even when every cell in her body was screaming to drop it. I deserve this. She repeated in her head. I deserve to suffer for the mistakes I have made.

And more droplets of blood expanded on the drawing, reminding her forever of the past.

- < ~ > -

Late in the night, when she was sure the streets were empty, Sky made her way out warily, alert for any danger. She would not have a repeat of the night of the attack. She needed to remain vigilant.

Sky quietly patrolled the town, methodically working her way through the streets. But when she was about halfway, something caught her eye.

A black shape shot from one building to another, seemingly teleporting across the landscape, eventually coming to the wreckage of the Church, where it disappeared behind a half-standing wall.