Requiem of the Forgotten

Three weeks had passed since we left Topolin.

Dragontown had changed.

At first, everything had been a mess. The return from Topolin had been nothing short of a disaster. People were furious—furious at us, at Carmen, at the fact that we had apparently made fools of ourselves in front of every major leader on this continent. The rumors spread like wildfire. Some thought we had ruined Dragontown's reputation forever. Others didn't care, focused only on their next meal or the next building that needed to go up. For days, tension ran high, and more than once, I thought someone might actually challenge Carmen's leadership.

But things had settled.

The ruins we had discovered had turned out to be a blessing. The raw materials, the ancient metals, the strange, sturdy stone—all of it had been salvaged and repurposed. The first actual weapons and armor had been forged. The dirt paths had been reinforced with stone and compacted earth. Houses had been rebuilt stronger, and the first semblance of a main street had begun to form. Some people even started setting up market stalls, trading whatever they could. It still wasn't much, but Dragontown was no longer just a camp—it was something real.

I should have felt proud. I didn't.

I had spent the past weeks helping wherever I could—mostly organizing supplies, making sure people had what they needed. Today, though, I was just another pair of hands in the forge, hammering away at a piece of scrap metal until it vaguely resembled something useful. The heat made my shirt stick to my back, and my arms ached from swinging the hammer all morning. It was mindless work, and that was exactly what I needed.

"Aleks!" Amina's voice cut through the clanging of metal. I turned to see her standing by the entrance, arms crossed, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple. "You look like you're about to pass out."

I wiped my forehead with my sleeve. "Yeah, well, standing next to molten metal all day will do that to you."

She smirked. "Come with me. I need a second pair of hands."

I hesitated. "Depends. Am I going to regret saying yes?"

"Absolutely."

I sighed but set my hammer down and followed her outside, stretching my sore muscles. The fresh air was a relief after hours in the forge. The streets of Dragontown were busier than ever—people carrying wood, stacking supplies, talking in clusters about the latest work assignments. It looked almost… functional.

"What's this about?" I asked as we wove through the crowd.

Amina shrugged. "Nothing crazy. Just thought you could use a change of scenery."

I narrowed my eyes. "Bullshit. You never do anything without a reason."

"Fine," she admitted. "You're avoiding people. It's annoying."

I scoffed. "I'm not avoiding people. I'm just… staying busy."

"Right. That's why I haven't seen you talk to Carmen or Daisuke in days."

I frowned. "That's not—"

Before I could finish, a commotion erupted near the southern entrance of the town. A handful of people stopped what they were doing, their heads turning toward the noise. The sound of horses' hooves against the dirt grew louder, and I could see dust kicking up in the distance.

I exchanged a glance with Amina. "What the hell now?"

We pushed through the growing crowd just in time to see them—riders, a dozen at least, dressed in armor that was a little too polished for a place like this. And at the front of them—Lydia.

Beside her, in full military gear, sat Nikita.

I barely had time to process that before Carmen stormed past me, making a beeline for Lydia. "Oh, hell no," she muttered under her breath. I reached out, grabbing her arm before she could make a scene.

"Not this time," I said.

She scowled at me. "The last time we let her talk first, we got humiliated."

"Yeah. And if we do the same shit now, it'll just happen again."

Carmen huffed but stayed still, arms crossed as Lydia and her soldiers dismounted. She scanned the gathered crowd before her eyes landed on me. There was something different in her expression—less arrogance, more… something else.

Regret? Doubtful.

"I need to speak to Dragontown," she announced.

The murmuring started immediately. Some people muttered insults under their breath. Others looked confused. A few seemed hopeful.

Lydia stepped onto the old election platform, where Carmen had won weeks ago. She let the noise die down before she spoke.

"We were wrong about you."

The words were unexpected. A few people gasped. Carmen stiffened beside me.

Lydia continued, her voice steady. "We saw Dragontown as a temporary problem. A gathering of lost people trying to play civilization. But in the past weeks, you've proven otherwise." She gestured around. "This isn't just a settlement. It's something real."

The people around me didn't know how to react. Some looked almost smug. Others skeptical.

"But," Lydia went on, her tone sharpening, "this doesn't change what's coming."

Silence.

"The attack is only three months away. And when it comes, there won't be time for debates or negotiations. It will either be us—or them."

I swallowed hard. The weight of her words pressed against my chest.

"That's why we've agreed to a solution," she said. "At the center of this continent, a military camp is being built. Any who wish to fight can go there and receive real training. Fighters, tacticians, strategists—anyone who can contribute to the war effort."

A few voices called out questions, but she cut them off.

"Make no mistake. If we lose this fight, everything you've built here will be gone." She looked straight at me then. "Your city. Your people. Your lives. Gone."

I clenched my fists.

Lydia took a breath before finishing. "So, for those willing to fight—for those who refuse to let this world be taken—you're welcome to join us. We leave at sunrise."

Silence stretched across Dragontown. People exchanged nervous glances, whispers rising between them. Some looked hesitant. Others seemed ready to move already.

And then, without thinking, I stepped forward.

"I'm coming with you."

The words left my mouth before I could fully register them.

Carmen spun toward me. "What?"

I exhaled. "I can't keep pretending this doesn't matter. I need to learn how to fight. I need to be ready."

Caelith's voice followed almost immediately. "I will go as well."

Murmurs spread through the crowd. More people were stepping forward, hesitant but determined.

Lydia nodded. "Then be ready. Tomorrow, we march."

And just like that, everything changed again.

After that I moved through the streets, the dirt roads packed firmer now from constant foot traffic. The crude wooden houses had been reinforced, some even boasting makeshift second floors. Fires flickered in the distance, casting long shadows of people moving between them, faces half-illuminated by the orange glow. It looked like a real settlement now, something permanent.

It almost felt like home.

Almost.

As I approached the town center, I caught sight of Carmen standing near the raised wooden platform that had been used for the elections. She was speaking with a small group of people, gesturing with her usual confidence. Even in the dim light, her dark brown eyes held that sharp intensity, and the firelight caught strands of her wavy black hair, making them shimmer with hints of auburn.

I hesitated for a moment before stepping forward.

She noticed me immediately, excusing herself from the group before making her way over. "Took you long enough," she said, crossing her arms.

I leaned against the wooden railing of the platform, letting out a slow breath. "So… what now?"

Carmen exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "That's what I wanted to talk about." Her voice lowered slightly, growing more serious. "Come with me. We need to figure some things out."

Something about the way she said it made my stomach tighten. I didn't ask questions—I just followed.

She led me toward one of the sturdier buildings near the center of town, a place she had claimed as a meeting house for anything important. Inside, a wooden table sat in the middle, covered in scattered notes, a rough map of Dragontown, and a few simple tools. A lantern flickered in the corner, casting soft, shifting light across the room.

Carmen leaned against the table, arms crossed. "Alright, let's be real here. We have no fucking clue what we're doing."

I blinked. "Wow, what an inspiring speech."

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up. You know what I mean. We got lucky, Aleks. We made Dragontown work, but we're barely hanging on. We don't have proper defenses, our food supply is unpredictable, and now we've got entire cities and kingdoms looking down on us like we're kids playing pretend."

She wasn't wrong.

Carmen tapped the table, her fingers drumming against the rough wood. "We need a plan. A real one. Not just 'build some walls and hope for the best.' If we want this place to survive long-term, we need to start thinking like leaders. Like we're actually building something bigger than ourselves."

I stayed quiet for a moment. Then, reluctantly, I nodded. "Fine. Where do we start?"

Carmen smirked. "Now you're talking."

She leaned forward, pointing at the map. "First off, we need to reinforce our borders. The last thing we need is some desperate group trying to raid us because they think we're easy pickings. We also need to figure out trade. We've been getting by with what we scavenge, but if we want Dragontown to be a real city, we need connections. The United Ones are a good start, but we need more than that."

I watched her as she spoke, her expression sharp and determined. The way she carried herself, the way she thought things through—it was impossible not to admire it. And maybe that was part of the problem.

I realized then that I'd been staring too long.

Carmen raised an eyebrow. "What?"

I quickly looked away. "Nothing. Just… thinking."

She snorted. "You? Thinking? That's a rare sight."

"Fuck off," I muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

She chuckled before her expression turned serious again. "We'll go over details later, but there's one more thing I need to say."

I glanced at her, waiting.

Carmen hesitated. Just for a second. Then she placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Don't do anything stupid out there, alright? I know why you're going, but don't let this turn into some self-sacrificial bullshit."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "I'm not planning on dying."

"You better fucking not," she said, then—before I could react—she pulled me into a quick hug.

It caught me off guard. The warmth of it. The way she held on for just a second longer than necessary.

Then she pulled away, clearing her throat. "Alright, get lost before I start thinking you actually have feelings."

I forced a smirk, even though my heart was doing something weird in my chest. "Wouldn't want that."

She gave me one last glance before turning back to the table, already focused on something else.

I left before I could say something stupid.

By the time I made it back outside, the air felt cooler. The night had deepened, and the fires around town burned low.

I had one more stop to make.

The others were waiting for me near the outskirts of Dragontown—Amina, Daisuke, even Nikita. A small fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows on their faces.

Amina was the first to notice me. She smiled slightly, tilting her head. "Took your time."

"Had to listen to Carmen yell at me first."

Daisuke smirked. "Statistically speaking, that sounds about right."

I rolled my eyes and sat down.

For a while, none of us spoke. We just sat there, watching the fire, feeling the weight of what was coming.

Finally, Amina broke the silence. "So… this is it, huh?"

I exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Guess so."

No one really knew what to say.

Then, to my surprise, Nikita was the one to speak next. "You'll be fine. Training's brutal, but it's what we need."

I looked at him, his face serious in the firelight. "You're coming too, huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Seatown's sending people. We don't have a choice if we want to survive."

I leaned back, staring up at the night sky. "Seems like none of us do."

There was a quiet moment before Amina shifted closer, resting a hand on my arm. "Just… don't forget to come back, alright?"

I glanced at her. Then at Daisuke, who, for once, wasn't making a joke.

At Nikita, who was watching me with something that almost looked like respect.

And at Carmen, who—just hours ago—had held onto me like she was afraid to let go.

I took a breath, steadying myself. "I'll come back."

The words felt heavier than they should have.

A promise.

One I intended to keep.

The fire crackled low, its embers glowing like scattered stars in the dark. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of burning wood and damp earth. Shadows flickered across our faces, making everything feel strangely unreal. For the first time in months, I realized how much I was going to miss this—just sitting around, talking shit, pretending, even if just for a moment, that the world wasn't falling apart.

Amina sat cross-legged, arms resting on her knees, her usual sharp gaze softer than usual. "I still don't get why you're doing this," she muttered, staring into the fire.

I exhaled, leaning back on my hands. "Because I have to."

"That's not an answer," she shot back. "None of us expected you to be the one leaving."

I didn't respond immediately. What was I supposed to say? That staying felt wrong? That for the first time since all of this began, I actually wanted something? That I couldn't sit back and wait for the fight to come to us?

Daisuke adjusted his glasses, watching me carefully. "You've always been more of a reactive person, Aleks. I never took you for someone who would make the first move."

I scoffed. "Yeah, well, people change."

"Do they?" His voice was thoughtful, almost teasing, but there was something serious in the way he looked at me. "Or are you just doing what you think you have to, because if you stop moving, everything catches up to you?"

The fire popped, sending a small flare of sparks into the air.

I swallowed, forcing out a chuckle. "Daisuke, are you secretly my therapist? Because if you are, I need a fucking refund."

Amina rolled her eyes. "He has a point."

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Look, I don't have a deep reason. I just—" I hesitated, searching for the right words. "I need to be able to fight. To actually do something. Otherwise, what's the point?"

There was silence. Then, to my surprise, Amina reached over and lightly smacked my arm. "Fine. Just… don't be an idiot."

Daisuke nodded. "And if you die, I'm calling dibs on your stuff."

I snorted. "That's comforting."

Carmen, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, stretched out her legs and leaned back on her hands. "You'll be fine," she said simply. "You always are."

I glanced at her, trying to read her expression. It was relaxed—too relaxed. Like she was deliberately keeping something back.

I hesitated, then took a breath. "Carmen, I—"

Before I could finish, I heard a familiar laugh. Nikita.

I turned just in time to see Carmen standing, walking toward him without hesitation. He grinned at her, saying something I couldn't hear, and she responded with an easy laugh, the kind she never really used around me.

I froze.

Something twisted in my chest, cold and familiar.

I shouldn't be surprised. I wasn't surprised.

Still hurt like hell, though.

I clenched my jaw, swallowing down whatever stupid words had been about to leave my mouth.

"Some things never change," I muttered under my breath.

Amina and Daisuke exchanged a glance, but neither of them said anything. They didn't have to.

I forced a smirk. "Alright, I'm getting some sleep. Try not to cry too much when I'm gone."

Daisuke scoffed. "We'll be celebrating."

Amina smirked. "I'll throw a party."

I flipped them both off and walked away before I could second-guess myself.

Morning came faster than I wanted it to.

The sun had barely begun to rise, casting a pale glow over the landscape. The town was quieter than usual—most people were still asleep, unaware that, in a few hours, I'd be gone.

I stood near the town's entrance, adjusting the straps on my pack, making sure everything was secure. Lydia's soldiers were already prepared, their horses lined up and ready. Nikita stood among them, speaking with one of his men. Caelith, as always, was standing perfectly still, like a statue, his silver hair catching the morning light.

I took a deep breath, glancing back toward the town one last time.

I didn't expect a dramatic farewell. I wasn't even sure I wanted one.

Climbing onto my horse, I settled into the saddle, gripping the reins. Lydia gave the signal, and one by one, we began to move.

I didn't look back.

As Dragontown disappeared behind me, a single thought settled into my mind.

We were on our own now.

And whatever came next—there was no turning back.