Page 79 of The Last Dragon
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out blueberries. “Found these too. Here.” He holds out the berries. I hesitate at first, but then stretch out my hand, feeling five small pebbles falling into my palm. Then he reaches toward Raumen and gives him a few too. I watch him trot away and hand some to other soldiers, including Nida, Eryca, and Sam, who are sitting a few meters across from us.
“Makes you angry, doesn’t it?” Raumen says, watching Sam hand a few of his rations to Nida, who’s been quiet ever since we left Pirlem.
“Hm?”
“Everything that’s happened—without you knowing.”
I shake my head. He’s talking about Pirlem. He didn’t know what happened either. None of us did. But I have to focus on the mission to make sure nobody doubts anything. Even when they probably should.
“Anyone who can’t shut off their emotions shouldn’t be a soldier,” I spit the words, stretching my arm toward the fire. The flames lick at my skin, but the night’s bitter cold clings to my bones.
“That’s where you’re wrong, bud,” Raumen says, his armor shifting with a quiet clink as he adjusts. “Emotions… they’re what make you a better soldier.”
I glance at him. That familiar grin he always wears is gone, replaced by something far more somber. Firelight flickers across his face, casting shadows that make him look older.
“Love. Hate. Hope,” he says quietly, eyes fixed on the flames. “They’re all things that make us human. When we love someone, we do everything we can to protect them. When we hate something, we use that hate to fuel us and stride into battle, determined to win. And hope…” His voice softens as he leans forward, resting his chin on his crossed arms. “Well… hope is the reason we’re soldiers. The reason why we sacrifice. Because we hope that one day this nightmare will end. And that we’re the ones who get to end it.”
I remain quiet for a moment.
“I guess that’s why most people join the Corps,” I say, as I tug on the grass under my fingers. Grogol does talk about hope—but I never realized there’s something deeper to it than just the word itself.
His lips twitch, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I have a family back in Nedersen. A struggling father, a sick mother… And a little brother I haven’t seen in years. I joined—not for the sake of being a hero, or slaying the most dragons—to protect them, and to try my best to give them a life I know they deserve.”
“I haven’t really thought of it like that before,” I say finally. “I was taught that emotions are dangerous. A weakness.”
Raumen smiles, creasing the corner of his eyes. “Try it,” he says gently.
“Try what?”
“Let yourself feel. It’s beautiful, really. During battle, feel free to shut it all off—the way we are taught. But not when you’re amongst people that care about you. Whoknowyou.” He looks at me as he rests his head on his gauntlet. “You—not some molded soldier. No judgment. But you—all sides.”
I stop tugging on the grass. I never had anyone tell me this before. All I ever had was anger within me. Vengeance. To destroy dragons for what they’ve done to my mother. My home. It was Grogol who taught me that emotions are a weakness, a way to lose track of your true goal once they take control. But I never thought they could fuel motivations beyond the need for survival. I never thought there was more to it.
I stay quiet, staring into the fire as his words settle like dust around me. What do I have? My home is gone. My family is buried in ash. I didn’t join to protect. I joined to destroy—to burn down what burned me. What took everything from me. But what’s left? What’s even worth protecting if not what remains of humanity?
A soft laugh carries through the camp. My eyes shift to Ilian, weaving around another campfire with a squirrel in hand. It’s Nida who releases that soft laugh with dimples marking her cheeks. I meet her eyes. Just a glimpse. Just a heartbeat. And something stirs in my chest. Stronger now.
Hours pass, and the night grows chilly. The fire flickers in front of me, fighting the night’s chill. It’s not late enough for soldiers to be asleep yet. Some are too nervous or scared to doze off. Some probably don’t want to sleep on what might be their last day of life. I run my hand over my hair, massaging my temples to ease the growing tension.
Hundreds of lives on my shoulders.
A sudden clamor in the distance pulls my focus—Alex and a few other cadets standing near a larger campfire, his blade unsheathed.
The hell is going on?
Alex waves the knife around, facing a third-year cadet with ash blonde hair. Two other cadets are behind the third-year in support. They shout at each other, but I can’t make out the words. A few moments later, Ilian butts in, separating Alex and the other. It’s a heated argument.
I sigh, annoyed, and lift myself up from the cold ground. When will they stop being children? I walk toward them, and their argument becomes clearer.
“I’m sorry, did I ask for your opinion?” Alex says to the cadet behind the third-year, his voice seeping with anger. The cadet takes a step back, muttering under his breath.
“Dust my damn fucking ears because I could’ve sworn you said something.” Alex waves a knife at the slim man. Must be a first-year.
Ilian presses his arm against Alex, pushing him to the side to create distance. “No one is willing to deal with your delusions,” Ilian says.
And now there’s a crowd gathering. Great.
“Delusions?” Alex exclaims, taking a step back and shoving Ilian’s arm away. “Yes, of course I have delusions, but I’m more fucking sane than this bunch right here!” He points his knife at the gathering crowd behind the third-year.
