and when the dust settles

your dreams are all full of war
you are from another time

She’d never been to this portion of the Greatwood – but the water called, as it so often did. The Stone Symphony altered to narrowed portions, where wood seemingly erupted from the canvas of liquid – and she wanted to be a part of it. To hunt. To do something other than bide her time around roots and trees, trying to find fortune in petals and hues.

A slip of her feet across the surface eased the tension along her calves and toes, and she remained taut upon its veneer, neither drifting nor falling. In fact, she stilled entirely, and must’ve been a bizarre sight along the exterior; flame-haired demigod, floating on the current.

Then she whispered, bringing it all back to the present as her dragon settled above, wings flapping quietly. “Do you see it?” To which the companion gave an extended nod, beginning to meander at a languid pace, as if trying not to give away their position.

salvation doesn't look like light
So what remains?

Melita