The sea stretched endlessly under a velvet sky, black and silver as molten glass.A single weathered boat drifted through the calm, guided by no wind, no sail — only the will of its quiet helmsman.
The Nameless One sat at the stern, cloak drawn loosely about his shoulders, one hand resting on the tiller.Above him, stars shimmered like old memories, reflected in the glassy surface below.
Vaerynna lay sprawled across the bow, her tail tapping rhythmically against the wood. Though young, she had grown since her hatching — her horns longer, her scales glinting faintly like polished obsidian in the moonlight.
You're doing it again, she said suddenly, breaking the long silence.
He didn't look at her. "Doing what?"
Staring at the sky like it owes you money.
A faint smile touched his lips. "It might."
She blinked, confused. > Is that a joke?
"It's a debt of memory," he said. "I'm counting how much time this world has forgotten."
You're impossible, she muttered. And you still haven't explained how you're moving this boat.
He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers slightly. "Ah, that. A little trick I picked up once."
Trick? There's no sail, no wind, no current. This shouldn't even work!
"It's working quite well," he said, amused.
You're cheating.
"Always."
She narrowed her eyes. > I don't like that answer.
He chuckled. "Most people don't."
For a while, the sea whispered around them, soft and endless. The stars shifted overhead, forming constellations he hadn't seen in millennia.
Vaerynna tilted her head. > You've been staring at those stars all night. They're not going anywhere.
"They're older than this world," he said quietly. "They remember more than men ever will."
And you can read them?
"I can listen."
What are they saying?
He smirked faintly. "That we're about twenty years early."
Early for what?
"A rebellion," he said. "A war over crowns and pride. The world's about to turn itself inside out again — it always does."
You sound like you've seen it.
"I have."
Then why come back? she asked. If you already know what happens?
He leaned back, eyes still fixed on the stars. "Because knowing and witnessing aren't the same. History tastes different when it's still bleeding."
That's disgusting.
"Accurate, though."
She rolled onto her side, tail flicking. > You're saying we came all this way just so you can watch humans stab each other over chairs?
"Thrones," he corrected. "They call them thrones here."
Same thing.
"Fair point."
Vaerynna huffed, glaring into the sea. > And here I thought you had some grand purpose. You're just sightseeing.
"I like good architecture," he said. "And chaos has a way of decorating the world with interesting ruins."
You're awful.
"Thank you."
Her nostrils flared. > That wasn't a compliment.
"I took it as one."
She groaned, resting her head on her claws. > You're the most frustrating creature I've ever met.
He gave a soft chuckle. "You'll meet worse. I'm just the patient one."
And smug.
"Frequently."
For a while, silence fell again — not uncomfortable, but filled with the quiet rhythm of the sea. Then she spoke, more softly this time.
You really can move the boat without wind?
He nodded. "Magic. Or something like it."
You can use magic?
"I've used many things," he said. "Once, in another world, I even helped build a school for it."
She tilted her head. > A school? For magic?
He nodded solemnly. "Yes. We had four founders. Brilliant minds, each in their own way. I stayed long enough to see it finished."
And what did you do there?
"I swept the halls."
She blinked. > You were a janitor?
He looked thoughtful. "Caretaker, technically."
That's not better.
"It's quieter."
She groaned loudly. > You're making that up.
He smiled faintly. "Possibly."
Definitely!
"Belief is overrated."
So is your sense of humor.
"Ah," he said, "but that's what makes it fun."
Vaerynna stretched, wings fluttering lightly. > I don't get you. One moment you sound like a god, the next like some old man who talks to himself.
"Who says I can't be both?"
You're not denying it.
He smirked. "Would you believe me if I did?"
No.
"Then there's no point trying."
She stared at him, then let out a frustrated growl. "You're hopeless."
He looked over at her, eyes gleaming faintly in the starlight. "And yet, you're still here."
Against my better judgment.
He leaned back, smiling faintly. "That's usually how companionship starts."
She muttered under her breath, > You're lucky I like you.
"I'm counting on it."
Ugh, you're impossible.
"True."
A soft laugh escaped her then — small, genuine, breaking through her irritation.
They drifted on through the black sea beneath a sky of silver. In the distance, faint lights began to glimmer along the horizon.
What's that? she asked.
"Volantis," he said. "The living world, waiting to notice us."
And when they do?
He smiled faintly. "They'll call me something. They always do."
She blinked. > Something like what?
He looked back toward the stars. "We'll see what suits their tongues this time."
You're planning something, aren't you?
"I'm always planning something."
That's not reassuring.
"It's not meant to be."
The dragon rolled her eyes. > Fine. But if this city of yours smells like humans, I'm burning something.
He chuckled. "Let's try to avoid mass panic on day one."
No promises.
"Of course not."
Vaerynna leaned forward, sniffing the air, then grimaced. > Ugh, I can smell the shore already. Salt, fish… and people.
He smiled, unbothered. "Welcome back to civilization."
If that's what you call it, I'm already disappointed.
He grinned. "You'll fit right in."