Dragon Aster Trilogy

5: QUILLS



Kenshe ran his fingers over the desk in the room of the Atrum that Urio had taken for himself. The room had been Commander Mersael’s during his stay. Urio had assumed that no one else would want a room that smelled of the griffin, as lavish as it was, and the old phelan was right. Under Kenshe’s fingers were the remains of where his father’s black feathers had fallen from their cup holder. They had gone from being quills to the ashes they were now. Now the ashes were all that remained of his father, along with the few memories he hadn’t purged from his mind. Memories of a mercenary that didn’t care about anyone but himself, or so he had made everyone believe up until his last moment alive.

“Kenshe.” Urio’s voice spooked Kenshe back to the present. The older phelan walked over to the desk and looked at his hand that was now black.

“If you came to apologize—”

“No, that’s not it. I was hoping you could tell me what you think of this,” Urio said and handed him a piece of paper.

Kenshe unfolded it and took a moment to adjust to the fact that it was written in English. It was surprising how many things he didn’t appreciate until needed. The usefulness of Jru’s teachings were starting to add up. “So my old man did give a damn about me. He left me to Sybl.”

“I don’t think she would want a piece of paper to decide what you want to do with your life.” Urio sat down in his wooden chair and stretched his legs up onto the matching desk.

Kenshe folded the paper back up, forcing his temper to not crush it. “Now the whole world feels sorry for me. Right at its end, go figure. I’m old enough to take care of myself. That and Sybl’s Bond wouldn’t be up for adopting—”

“Cirrus would likely be obligated by honor to say yes, aside from the fact that Sybl cares about you. You forget that your grandfather was Estar, who was formerly one of their greatest High Guard.”

“And exactly what of me looks like a dragon to you, Urio?”

“You heal faster than other phelan. You have a deeper sense of psi and Threads. Estar was an explorer, a Healer and a soldier, and I think you have a bit of that in you. With some more training—”

“Just where is left to train? With the garbage of the Order that Vanir has left behind? In the rubble that is now the Sanctus? No thanks. I will remain a Custos as long as people still remember what the word means.”

“I think it’s a good idea if you stick it out with Sybl. In two years, when you’re old enough to be considered an adult, every ayame on the Continent will look at you.”

“I don’t care about any of that. Look outside Urio,” Kenshe said, pointing to the window and the iron bars that shielded it, “the entire world is slowly freezing over as the Aurs grow weaker. Soon none of it will matter because we will all be dead.” He shoved the will of his father back into Urio’s hands.

“So you’ve given up on Sybl?”

“She gave up on us. Damek was right there! If she had commanded Cirrus to destroy that demon, this would be over with.”

“Matters with the caels are never entirely over, Kenshe. They always come back. Sybl only wants to permanently destroy Damek. She explained this to you already,” Urio reminded him.

“Well I don’t think he can be destroyed. Not if no one so much as lifts a blade or a claw to him.” Kenshe turned to leave.

“You will never understand your father if you don’t so much as try and accept that much of him will always be a part of you,” Urio said, causing Kenshe to stop.

“In what sense?”

“You both saw the despair the world is in and the hope being drained from the face of Aster. But what made your father different is that he didn’t let that get in his way. He did what was necessary to keep going, right to the end. He saved the Caelestis and likely bought us just enough time to stop all this.”

Kenshe thought on Urio’s words for a moment, before opening the door and leaving down the hall. He needed time to think.