"Who was that man," Jade asked.
His face was full of dust and faint traces of blood. Sara had her arms crossed and back turned to the two. She was seething with intense anger and frustration, the complete opposite of her previously calm composure. Jade was eerily unreadable. His mana felt cold to be around, and no longer held the welcoming warmth as when they first arrived.
Takabi, on the other hand, was a mix between the two. When he spoke to them, his eyes flashed faintly, and his tone was incredibly dark. "You wanna explain what the fuck you two were doing?!" His gaze snapped at them. "You're Dragons! Comrades aren't you?!"
"Don't insult us," They replied. Jade glanced at Sara, but she kept her eyes averted. "I put up with royals because they've been valuable."
"I deal with Shadows because I try to follow my sister's example." She looked Takabi in his eyes. "I respect you, so I shall speak these words once. Don't try to understand our customs. You're a guest on our soil."
"A guest," He smirked. "Is that how you see us?"
"Wasn't it obvious?"
"Fair enough," He said, shoulders slumping. "Can't say much to that. We're only here because of the Kult anyway." Takabi blinked, "I don't suppose you know of a White Dragon named Syrreth, do you?"
"Syrreth…" She faced him fully. "You address my sister so casually."
"Your sister," He repeated in a shocked tone. Kairas approached the group, raising his eyebrow at Jade and Sara. Takabi noticed his twin, quickly turning on his heel and pointing at Sara. "Did you know she was Syrreth's sister?!"
"Why would I? Who is she?"
"Sara." She addressed bluntly. "I'm taking my leave. You boys remember your place in our society. Help us catch these criminals, but after you best take your leave." Wings sprouted from her back, and she took off into the air.
Jade's wings ripped from his back violently, and he eyed Takabi. "I shall see you later. Take care tonight." He slipped into the shadows and disappeared from sight, leaving the two boys alone together.
-----------------------------------------
Garuga roamed through the streets. The damage stretched on and on for blocks. Blood littered the concrete path, wounded Dragons helping the dead out of the way of the clean up crew. He lowered his gaze and head, placing his palms together in a silent prayer for the souls lost.
This kind of death brought him no satisfaction. Spilling innocent blood was never something he approved of, now or ever.
"May you find peace beyond," He muttered, opening his eyes.
Something called to him.
A gust of wind in the night. This night was telling him something he didn't want to hear, or even think of. Instinctively, he ran his fingers over his wedding ring. His heart felt heavy. The ominous feeling spread from his heart to his mind.
There was something in the right corner of his eye. A dark light. Turning his head, nothing came to him aside from the Dragons cleaning up. Next it came from the left. His head snapped in the direction.
Hesitant, his foot lifted, until he began walking slowly, sweat building in his palms and on his forehead. His vision was a strong haze, and his nose picked up a faint scent. Something is lost in the wind, but his body knew who and where it was.
The walk was a long one, and by the time he reached his destination, it was early morning. The sun was slowly rising over the mountains, changing the sky from its dark green to a gently kissed shade of pink. The grass lit up with sunlight, trees dancing in the strong air from the west.
"The Wind Kingdom has awakened," Garuga said.
His tired, dark eyes dropped, gaze locked on his feet as they continued to bring him forward. He recognized the direction, but knew nothing of the destination. This far east of Scarlivia was nothing but wildlife and neutral ground. Going to such a place meant nothing.
Was it battle he craved? To lock himself in combat and shed blood of rogue Dragons?
He quickly denied the idea. The feeling in his chest wasn't the need to shed the blood of evil. It was to find someone lost. A soul was calling to him, yet while it felt familiar, he couldn't place whose it was. All he kept noticing was how he felt compelled to touch his ring.
The trees began to wilt around him. Grass died, replaced by bare and dark dirt, mud, and turnt over rocks. He came across a metal gate, rusted from rain recently. Dark metal, and letters hanging down overhead. His eyes adjusted themselves, and he focused, reading: Place of Fallen.
His fingers gripped the gate, and he pushed them open, soil squishing under his shoes. He pressed on, heart hammering against his ribcage, the faint mist in the corner of his eyes guiding forward. His hands were shaking, tension and nervousness building up in his core.
He wanted to vomit, and even felt himself break into a painful cough. Wiping his lips, his eyes dropped on the blood on the back of his hand. Groaning, he ignored it and continued on, desperate to discover what was calling to him.
Tombstones lay scattered about. Old, worn down, broken. For a cemetery, it was poorly upkept.
"How old is this place," He questioned. "This must've been built after I left. Had to be."
Each name was caked in dirt, and pieces of stone, marble and other earthly materials were discarded from their main bodies. The further he walked, the more he noticed the sun greyed out by darker clouds, and that the tombstones were more and more fresh, to the point some looked recently placed, and aged by a day to, at most, a month.
Garuga's eyes fell on a small hill. Three graves, elevated higher than the rest. There was a faint ray of light shining down on them. From a distance, he scanned the names. The two smaller ones he didn't recognize, but the one in the center sent something through his heart. His feet stopped, and hands grew clammy. He didn't want to keep going. He wanted to turn, and leave, at full speed.
The mist became stronger, more visible in his eyes and pulled him forward. More and more, his body would fight against his mind, ignoring his pleas. He couldn't avert his eyes, and as he closed in under the sunlight, all ceased.
Time seemed to slow down severely. His heart stopped, and he dropped to his knees. His breathing slowed, and muscles gave out. Garuga dropped his head, feeling the tears well up in his eyes, slowly running down his face.
Time was a constant.
Time never stopped for anyone.
Should one take too little time, they became ill prepared for things important. Should they take too much time, they miss events they feel they could prevent.
His fingers brushed his ring, before he broke into a heavy sob. He coughed, then screamed out in a pained howl. The howl of a man who lost it all. The howl of one who is broken, and wishes to return to a time where all was well.
Now, Garuga, felt nothing was well.