The walk back to the ranch was unnervingly quiet.

  The enemy mercenaries’ drake had advised them to check the mercenaries’ pockets for information about their employer, and unexpectedly, they’d found it. The job, to “Eliminate the organization Valor Grotto and leave no witnesses”, had been commissioned by the Commit Leed Versailles, the feudal lord of one of the core territories of Brostel. Naturally, the motivation for the commission was omitted, none present knew a damn thing about this Commit Versailles, and even if the slip of parchment they’d found did count as proof, it wasn’t exactly against the law. Waver would surely pass the information along to his mother later, if only so she could be aware of the threat, but there was nothing more actionable they could do.

  The drake would return to his stable riderless, most likely informing the other mercenaries that the job was a bust. Valor tried to convince him to just run off, but the drake retorted that he had no idea how to survive on his own. He was a war beast, not a wild animal. Waver tried to assert that he was neither, but he was hearing none of it, and Valor and Waver watched him as he sauntered back. Still, they were going in the same direction anyway, so the farewell felt a little silly.

  Waver felt watched more than he ever had before. The stars were blazing as bright as they ever had, but they felt dim compared to the weight of that gaze from above. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, and for once he doubted it was just the dry night breeze. He shivered. He wasn’t completely heartless; the fact that he’d just killed a human being didn’t escape him, but the feeling of being watched felt like fire, burning away any other emotion.

  It was information he didn’t know what to do with.

  He knew that magic was real, thanks to the time he’d spent with Kress. He could no longer afford not to believe in the supernatural, or his connection to it. So, while it was uncomfortable to consider, it was likely that something really was watching him.

  On a whim, he turned his face to the sky and growled at it:

  But if the entity in the sky heard him, it gave no indication. Valor looked at him strangely, though.

   they asked.

   Waver replied.

   Valor said. Waver didn’t really feel like laughing, even though the flow of the conversation demanded it, so they just walked in silence. Soon enough, the drake who was still walking in front of them turned his head back to them, his expression looking grave.

  

  The three of them ran back to the ranch. Waver’s legs were too slow, so Valor rolled him over their neck as they bounded down the dirt road. Waver could feel himself bleeding onto his friend’s scales, probably because a few of them nicked his itchy skin, and he resolved to polish Valor’s scales down carefully when everything was alright again.

  It wasn’t long before Valor and then even Waver could smell the smoke, too. Waver wanted to believe it was a coincidence, but... it was coming from the same direction they were going. And it was only getting stronger as they got closer.

  Finally, they arrived at the ranch. The riderless drake took one regretful look at it, and then at Valor and Waver, and walked away. Valor and Waver just stared.

  Their home was entirely engulfed in flames.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Orange and yellow tongues licked out of the windows, roiling out towards the roof and creating their own wind. Inside, as far as Waver could see, was hell itself. Details were impossible to make out, only the roaring flames and the thick grey smoke that billowed up and covered the ceiling. Even as far away as they were, the heat from the flames was strong, and it only got stronger when they got closer.

  Waver kicked off of Valor’s back and made to run forward. Valor yelped and grabbed Waver around the waist in their jaws, a little rougher than they meant to.

  Waver cried, desperation filling his conjured voice.

  Valor flipped him onto his back and held him down with a claw, freeing up their mouth.

   Waver quieted for just a moment, then started struggling again.

  

  Waver was rendered speechless by the sheer command and ferocity in Valor’s voice.

  

   Waver began to whimper pathetically. Valor let him up, and he picked himself up to his knees. He stared up at the burning ranch.

  Other than Pentwec, everything in there was just things. But it was their things, the things that had accumulated over a year of hard work, a year of helping dragons and humans. More than that, it was an actual home. A safe haven where Waver could stay warm and sleep in the same place as his friends at the same time. And it was gone.

   he asked, weakly.

   Valor looked absolutely, hauntingly disgusted, and Waver realized the only reason they hadn’t run in is because he had tried first.

   Waver said. It wasn’t a question, so Valor didn’t try to answer.

  The two of them stood there, waiting. Waiting for Ori to arrive with Pentwec. Waiting for someone to realize they were in trouble and to help them. Waiting for the fire to burn itself out. Waiting to wake up and find out it was only a nightmare. As they watched everything they’d built for themselves burn, the walls collapsed bit by bit, and the ceiling split open in some places and caved in others.

  They were too far away from their neighbors for a bucket brigade or anything like one. They had no handy magic that could control the fire or summon water or smother it with sand. There was nothing they could do but watch and wait.

  By the time the fire had finally burnt itself out, it was already daybreak. Pentwec had not arrived. Ori did, presumably with a guard hidden nearby, and she watched in speechless horror as Valor and Waver picked through the rubble like scavengers rooting through the corpse of their own life.

  Eventually, they heard a rasping, ugly cough, one they would eventually grow quite familiar with.

  They dug frantically towards the sound, throwing away charred boards and shingles. Finally, lying hidden under what must have been their biggest stew pot, they found Pentwec.

  Her white scales and stony fur were stained grey with soot, but otherwise unharmed. Her nostrils and lips were not so lucky; the bits of exposed skin near her mucous membranes were inflamed, cracked, and in some cases even charred. It looked incredibly painful, and as they watched, she coughed and wheezed again.

  “Pen,” Waver said gently, trying and failing to keep the tears in his eyes out of his voice. “Pen, we’re here now. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s going to be fine now.”

  Pentwec took a deep breath, coughed again, and inclined her head to give Waver a painful-looking smile.

  “I forgot what burning felt like,” she wheezed, and then her head collapsed again.

  Waver and Valor gently picked Pentwec up, cradling her in Waver’s arms while Waver sat atop Valor. Together, while Ori watched, they began the long, long journey across town, back to the manor where they’d both grown up. To treat Pentwec’s wounds, and theirs.

  They didn’t have a home anymore. Valor Grotto was dead. But Waver, Valor, Pentwec, and even Fracas, who had temporarily left town, were all alive.

  But even if they weren’t, the fire whose ember they’d carried -- the fire of written language -- was still burning, was still spreading. There was no escaping it anymore.