The Dragon's Cry

"I can't," you say, shaking your head. "I can't be a hero." Not with you, you add silently to yourself. Not with someone who lets a girl die to teach me a lesson. No, Shree is going to set off on his own.

"So be it," she says. "Farewell, Shree of Rhee. I must find my allies elsewhere. Pray that I find them in time."

Over the next few days, you make your way to the mountains, hoping to find Shadow or some clue to the Children of the Ring. After you have been out five days, a brilliant flash lights up the rocks ahead of you like a second sun. You turn to see a column of fire rising from where your village should have been. A crushing roar, like distant thunder, but continuous, reaches your ears along with a gust of wind that threatens to sweep you off your feet (and maybe the trail as well).

Clutching a small tree, you wait for the wind to subside, unable to take your eyes off the great fireball in the distance.

A tear escapes one of your eyes as you wonder what sort of spell could have produced such destruction. You wonder also if you could have prevented it by following the silver woman. Was she looking for someone to replace me when the spell was cast? Or was she there when it happened? A duel of sorcerers, maybe?

And then a memory hits you: The girl with the flute -- there was a mark on her hand where she had worn a ring - The Children of the Ring! And I -- no, the silver woman -- let one of them die! You begin crying in earnest now, certain that you will never find your mother, for the others of the Ring will certainly not help you now.

You continue stumbling along the path, then feel a stabbing pain in your chest. You look down and see the shaft of an arrow, then look up to see a soldier stepping out of the bushes as you crumple to the ground....

The End

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