1217-09-05
Gold Haoai:
Presence
People often underestimate the presence they have in other lives. A passing glance can stay with someone. A small smile can lift a day someone thought was already ruined.
Humanity needs the presence of others, whether we realize it or not. We all move through invisible rules. Those rules shape what we give off. They shape how we speak, how we react, how we leave marks on each other.
Some interactions are gentle. A mother and her daughter. Some are cruel. Kings fighting for survival. The presence of those we love weighs more than the presence of those we hate. Everyone knows that. Still, we forget our own impact.
We see the world through our own eyes, so our presence feels small. We don't hear how our words echo in someone else. We don't notice how a moment with us becomes part of them.
Isn't it strange.
Some people claim they care about everyone. Others care only for what's close. Neither makes someone better. A person who loves their daughter, their mother, their son, loves something real. That matters.
Many people are willing to sever bonds. They cut off parents. They abandon family for belief, for pride, for anger.
When I raise Norah, I hope she doesn't do that. I hope she remembers the ones who stayed. I hope she becomes the kind of presence that doesn't vanish when things get hard.
I carry so much love for her it feels too large to belong to me. And when I look at her, I don't see Milton. I see joy.
She won't remember the worst of Nor.
She's only about three.
've held her close for so long that I forget how quickly she's growing. She walks now. She speaks. She laughs. Even when she's weak, her presence fills the room.
Her eyes are pure white. Windows to something untouched.
She will always be my daughter.
Her third birthday is coming soon. I wonder how her presence will change. She has already changed so much in months, even in days. She tries to stand on her own. I still carry her often. I still wrap her in cloth, still pretend she's smaller than she is, because I'm not ready.
But she's here.
And her presence is enough.
I cover her eyes with a red silk cloth, not because I'm afraid of them, and not because I fear she'll become like the Kundra's, obsessed with color.
I cover them because they're sensitive. As we adjust to the heat, her eyes dry out and turn red. The silk protects her while still letting her see.
In the future I picture, I see her as a ruler. A queen who takes what is hers.
The castle of Sha'tar is warm and vast, larger than anything I've known. Larger than the stone halls of Marano. Larger than the white castle of Ahk, or Pallas, I always forget which name they use now.
Norah and I walk down sandstone paths lined with gems and armor of different colors. People pass through the halls. Guards stand at every turn, each marked with a tattoo across their back. Most are yellow. Some are black, rarer, darker.
Their armor resembles beasts and dragons. Sha'tar views dragons as equals. They don't worship them like Wara does. They live beside them. Dragons shape their cities, their homes, even the land itself.
The city is built around an oasis. Streams cut through its heart. Plants climb the walls. The warmth is steady, never crushing. At night it turns cool, not like Nor, but enough to feel.
I once saw Horus open his mouth and light the sky. Heat spread across the country in an instant.
I don't see much of Leader, Books, or Dara. They stay busy, lost in the beauty of this place.
People always say they want to live somewhere else. They dream of other countries as if distance fixes everything. Sha'tar is beautiful, but I'd still choose Marano. Even after what it did to me. I was born there.
As we walk, I hear the clink of gold, the soft ring of gems. Familiar sounds in unfamiliar halls.
I bow to the soldiers guarding rooms we aren't allowed to enter. They bow back, almost as if they know who approaches.
Tamara.
She walks toward me, and I feel her presence. The presence of a dragon in human form.
And yet she bows to me.
She bows to my presence.
"How are you feeling?" she asks, looking down at Norah.
"Good," Norah smiles, still holding my hand.
Tamara lifts her easily into her arms.
"You're such a beautiful girl," she says softly.
Then Tamara looks back to me. "Eventually, I want my son to accompany you to Nor."
"Son?" I blink. "I didn't know you had a son."
"I do," she replies. "And I'll have a daughter soon as well." Her smile doesn't fade.
I look at her. She doesn't seem pregnant, but I don't question it.
"Congratulations," I say.
"Ramses has blight," she continues. "We're working on finding a cure."
"I've heard of blight," I say quietly.
"It's best he stays away from you for now," Tamara adds. "I wouldn't want to harm our new allies."
A small smile rests on her lips. Her earrings shimmer faintly in the light.
"Follow me," she says. "The rest of you are waiting in the throne room."
She sets Norah down, and we walk.
The deeper we go, the fewer guards we pass. The halls grow quieter. It feels like the castle itself is holding its breath.
When we enter, everyone is already there.
Tamara gestures for me to sit with the others.
"I apologize," she says. "We don't have a table at the moment."
She takes her throne.
I glance around the room. Unlike the bright halls outside, this place feels ancient. Statues line the walls, each carved with a dragon's head and a human body. The one at the center has wings stretching from its back, frozen mid-rise. The throne sits beneath it, though it looks unused, more symbol than seat.
A man and a woman stand beside Tamara.
"This is Solan," she says, pointing to the man. "One of my guards."
"And this is Eryx," she adds, nodding toward the woman. "Another."
Tamara's gaze sharpens.
"For this alliance to mean anything, I need to know everything about you. In return, I'll tell you why I want to ally with Nor."
Leader steps forward.
"I used to be a general in the Maranonan army," he begins. "I quit after what happened in Ghar. The king didn't like it. He slaughtered my men, killed my daughter, and kept his eye on Nor so we'd never become powerful."
"So Nor is a prison colony," Tamara says. "Is that correct?"
"Yes," Leader answers. "Only those the king deems redeemable are sent there, in hopes we'll change our minds."
Tamara leans back slightly.
"How do you stay warm?" she asks. "Nor is the coldest place on earth, besides maybe Barta. How have you survived this long?"
"About once a month," Books says, cutting in, "the king sends food or new prisoners. Every four months, he comes himself to see if anyone wants to return to Marano."
Tamara's eyes shift to Books.
"And what about you?" she asks. "Your eyes are gray. Dull in a way I haven't seen before."
"I used to run a bookshop," she says. "That's how I got the nickname. I sold stories that were outlawed. Of Lions and Serpents, and other banned books."
Tamara hums, thinking. "That still doesn't answer my question. You were dressed in little more than cloth, riding a boat half coming apart. Yet you show no frostbite."
"In Nor, we kept a fire in the main building," Dara says. "We lit it using dragon scales."
"Ice dragon scales," Helm adds.
Tamara's eyes narrow. "Is that what your weapons were made of?"
"No," Leader says. "They're made from dead dragons we kept."
"That confuses me," Tamara replies. "How do ice dragons freeze to death? And how do you have such an abundance of ance?" Her voice cools. "If I find you were killing dragons to stay warm, there's nothing I'll do for you."
"Of course not," I say. "We're grateful to the dragons. The cold doesn't kill them. Hunger does."
Leader nods. "We used Noran corpses to feed them for a time, but we ran out. Marano only sends enough for us to survive."
Tamara studies us, then nods once. She seems satisfied.
"And you," she says, turning to Helm. "What did you do to be sent somewhere so unfit? I doubt you were useless to Milton."
"I was sent to Ghar," Helm says. "To kill its leader and plunge it into chaos."
Tamara laughs once. "And you spared him, so Milton grew angry?"
"No," Helm says flatly. "I killed him. When I was freed, I came back and slaughtered his village."
Her face hardens.
"You are…"
"I am Mathew Hill."
Tamara smiles, sharp and knowing. "The General Mathew Hill. You've given her Nezu quite a chase over the years. And now you're here, asking me for help."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
A cruel smile flashes across her face, then fades as her gaze shifts to Norah. She stops herself.
"In the past, near the end of the Hundred Year War, my mother told me stories," Tamara says.
"Stories of a general she feared. A strong man, calm and wise. A man who slaughtered her battalion of Nezu, yet never told his king."
I want to ask what a Nezu is, what she means by all of it. But I don't.
The explanation will come eventually.
I still don't know why Sha'tar wants to ally with us beyond ance. What do we offer besides that?
An alliance with Nor means conflict with Marano. It means choosing a side.
I don't want to see a world where Sha'tar and Marano fight.
She takes a slow breath.
"She said he did it for the love of the kill. A man so strong that even without wings, he soared. A law forgotten by history."
Her eyes lock onto Helm.
"Mathew Hill."
Her voice lowers.
"And what he said was imprinted on my mother."
Helm's mouth moves before the sound leaves him.
"The winds…" he begins.
Tamara continues with him, the words spoken together.
"...are shifting, my queen."
Then they say the next line in unison.
"Old enemies may find themselves in alliances."
Helm exhales, almost weary.
"You flatter me," he says. "In truth, I'm nothing but an old man."
"You're far from that," Tamara replies. "You're the last law still alive. In many runs, you die in Ghar."
"What?" I blurt out.
Tamara waves it off. "Nothing. Stupid dreams I tend to have."
Her gaze sharpens again.
Tamara looks at me last, her gaze drifting over Dara.
Dara was born in Nor, or at least that's what Tamara seems to think.
But what about me?
What does a mother and child do to deserve exile in a frozen wasteland?
I brace myself, ready to answer. My mind flashes through my past, through every mistake, every reason they might have chosen me.
And yet Tamara passes over me like a breeze, saying nothing at all.
"I have no more questions. In the next few days, we'll visit Nor. I want to see its condition myself."
Helm steps forward. His white beard looks like snow, though it isn't.
"Then let's plan to leave in a month," he says. "We should finalize the deal once you understand how much ance and how many dragon eggs we have."
Tamara's smile returns, quieter now.
"Even seeing the man who made that law in the flesh is enough."
She rises.
"Tomorrow, I'll show you everything Sha'tar has to offer. Since Mathew has already seen the Nezu, it's time for the rest of you."
Helm bows. We all follow.
The queen smiles.