Without Saying

Chapter 22 - Let it Begin!

The island of Dragon's Edge had never felt so full. Eret moved steadily along the main path, boots crunching against packed dirt and scattered stone, his gaze drifting across the organized chaos that had taken hold of the torch-lighted outpost. Where there had once been space, open air, and quiet stretches between structures there were now people. 

Refugees from tribes scattered across the archipelago had been arriving for some time now, each group bringing its own story, its own losses. But this... this was different. The numbers had nearly doubled overnight. The Defender of the Wing tribe stood out immediately-their armor, their posture, the quiet grief that clung to them like smoke. Not far from them, the Wingmaiden tribe worked in smaller clusters, more reserved but no less affected, their dragons staying closer than usual, as if sensing the unease. Different tribes. Different customs. All forced into the same uncertain future. And somehow... it was holding together. But not by chance. By effort.

Eret slowed his steps as he passed a group of Defenders carefully unloading supplies from a dragon's back, their movements efficient despite the exhaustion etched into their faces. But they weren't alone. A pair of earlier settlers-former refugees themselves-moved alongside them, quietly guiding where supplies should go, showing them which shelters were already reinforced and which still needed work. There was no authority in it. No command. Just... understanding.

A few paces ahead, a group of Wingmaidens knelt beside a cluster of younger children, gently helping them drink water and settle into blankets that had clearly been gathered in a hurry. One of the older refugees-a man Eret vaguely recognized from a tribe that had arrived weeks ago-was repairing a broken brace on a Wingmaiden's armor, his hands steady, practiced, offering quiet reassurance as he worked. They had all been through this before. And now they were the ones steadying others through it.

Eret felt something shift in his chest as he took it in. Not pride. Not quite. But something close. His eyes drifted toward the far side of the camp, where several of Sun's trained dragons were assisting with construction. Timber was hauled, lifted, and set into place with careful precision. A Gronkle reinforced support beams with controlled bursts of fire, while a Zippleback hovered nearby, its heads coordinating like seasoned builders rather than wild creatures. And below them, people worked together. Not as separate tribes. But as one. It still amazed him. Not the dragons.

Sun.

The way he had taken something impossible... and made it work. Eret exhaled slowly, running a hand along the back of his neck as he turned toward the path leading up to the Clubhouse. For the first time since the attack, things were finally starting to stabilize after the Defender tribe had to relocate. But one thing still wasn't right and it was hanging over everyone. Because Sun wasn't back yet.

It had been over six hours since they left, which was never a good sign for dragon riders. Eret's jaw tightened slightly as he pushed open the doors to the Clubhouse and stepped inside. The room was quieter than usual. Dagur leaned against one of the wooden beams, arms crossed, the tension in his posture betraying his usual confident appearance. Mala stood near the central table, speaking softly with Heather, while Ivar lingered nearby, listening more than contributing. And then there was Viggo. Eret's eyes found him immediately. Of course they did. The man stood slightly apart from the others, composed as ever, hands loosely clasped behind his back as though he belonged there. He didn't. Not really. And that was something none of them had quite figured out how to ignore yet.

"How's it looking out there?"

Heather asked, glancing toward him.

"Better,"

Eret answered after a moment.

"They're settling in. The dragons are... helping more than I expected."