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Tycondrius furrowed his brows as he tilted the girl\'s chin up and observed her dilated pupils, "Young lady? ...Are you alright?"

"Maybe she\'s just uh... happy to see us?" Krysaos offered.

Tycon pursed his lips as he waved his hand in front of the child\'s eyes. She did not flinch, nor did her eyes refocus.

"While I would love to assume the young lady is stunned by my handsome visage... I somehow doubt that is the case."

It was perhaps low of him to have surprised the girl they believed to be Sprig\'s sister. He had snuck around the young lady earlier with his ⌈Shadowfang⌋ movement technique as a precautionary measure. She wielded a spear... and a fishing spear to the knee would certainly end Krysaos\' adventuring suns.

However, upon facing her, the young lady seemed to... break? He\'d imagine something similar would happen to his pocket watch if he neglected the regular rewinding of its mechanisms.

She stared into space, slack-jawed and drooling... and tears were forming at the corners of her eyes.

She looked quite human... but similar to his Brother-Captain, Krysaos, the scent she gave off was... off-- but very slightly.

⟬ Lost Child, Rank Unknown, Class Unknown. ⟭

Tycon\'s System was unable to glean the girl\'s particulars. In all his previous encounters of the phenomena, the target was a transmigrator, just as he was...

He and the others had all come from different worlds... each with access to their own unique Systems.

Aurala Wyndham, youngest Princess of the Kingdom.

Kanbrai of Evocaar, the strongest house cat in the Realm.

Athanasius Mors, the Oathkeeper, husband to the future matriarch of the Frozen Cairn Sect.

Each had the power, the influence, or a combination of both enough to alter the Realm at large, if they so wished.

Tycon had befriended each of those persons... and would go out of his way to cultivate those relationships.

Thankfully, none of their goals were contrary to his.

He\'d hate to have to kill any of them.

By all means, Tycon should have remained wary of the somewhat-human child... but it was difficult thinking that a hatchling shocked into absolute helplessness might be a meaningful threat in the near future.

Prior to their meeting, he did not have a good opinion of her.

From information he\'d gathered from passersby in the swamp... the young lady seemed to have a particular vendetta against his kin.

By secondhand accounts, Tycon was aware that snake meat was delectable and nutritious. Still, it was an unpleasant notion.

"(I\'ll deal with her how I see fit,)" He hissed quietly.

Out of the corner of his eyes, an Iron-Rank King Snake peeked down from a tree... "(You ask much of us, Ivory Prince... We shall obey... but only because our bloodlines demand it so.)"

"Yes, yes," Tycon rolled his eyes. "I\'ll bring back some food or pay a visit to your Princess or something."

"Uh. Who you talkin\' to, LT?" Krysaos asked.

"The dozen or so Bronze and Iron-Rank snakes hidden amongst the reeds."

"Ahhh, yeahh," Krysaos nodded. "I see \'em now. F*ck me sideways-- I\'m sorry for asking."

Tycon nodded politely in response. Even though he didn\'t understand the gentleman\'s remark, it didn\'t sound important enough to ask for clarification.

"Huh," Krysaos walked over to Imperia and crouched down over her, "Y\'know, the elf\'s a lot more tolerable if she doesn\'t open her stupid mouth."

"I believe that to be a common trait for humans," Tycon remarked as he scooped the child into his arms.

"Mhm?" The Captain nodded steadily, "Me included, yeah?"

"Let us take these two to a more defensible location."

...

⊰ Do you hear it, child? ⊱

« Wh... what\'s that? »

Willow sat up on the springy couch as she rubbed her bleary eyes. She was in a small, but clean home... It might have been something like one she\'d used to live in back before Mom got sick and Dad had to quit his job.

There was a tiny table in front of her... with a couple of thin, waxy books. She couldn\'t read any of the bold text on covers, but they looked interesting. The nearby shelves were covered in... trinkets and knick-knacks... realistic paintings of people in colorful clothing propped up on wooden frames and covered in glass.

It was probably what... a rich person\'s home looked like-- not that Willow had any experience being in that kind of place.

Mom was in the kitchen... a pot of soup was bubbling on the stovetop and making the whole room smell... just wonderful.

...Willow plopped her head back on the couch, sinking deep in its softness. She grabbed one of the cushions and rubbed her face in it.

It was another dream.

She\'d been having too many crazy dreams lately.

Sooner or later, she wouldn\'t be able to distinguish them from reality.

But then again...

She was in a small room with a couch, bookshelves filled with super-expensive, unreadable books, and a beautiful woman that looked a lot like her real mom.

That was a lot better than splashing through a swamp full of snakes and giant leeches.

"Do you hear it, young human?" \'Mom\' repeated gently.

"Yeah..." Willow tossed the fuzzy cushion away... then thought better of it and put it back in its rightful place... "You\'re talking about... the song, right?"

There were a lot of things Willow learned in her dreams. As with all dreams, she usually couldn\'t remember what happened in them... but when she woke up, she had all sorts of new things she just... understood.

How her System worked... gaining experience points and activating her talents.

That she couldn\'t trust anyone with the knowledge that she had green scales growing over her heart-- even her brother.

Then... there was the song... the song of which legends were sung.

"You are protected, child," The woman smiled, "and by gifts bestowed by a power even greater than the Court."

That was something she heard a lot from her Mom-type figure... weird... prophecy-type stuff that probably wasn\'t supposed to be taken at face value.

Willow peeked her head over the couch... That person was... really... mom-like, wearing an apron embroidered with little yellow, bird-shapes and spooning a bowl of soup with a weird black ladle.

It wasn\'t actually her mom. She didn\'t really remember what her mom was supposed to look like-- but that was just the kind of feeling that person gave off.

She had light brown hair, the same color as hers, but cut neatly and a little shorter. Her boobs were bigger-- more adult-looking. No butt, though.

...Willow felt the sudden urge to drink... more milk or something.

When that person turned around to reach for a hand towel, Willow could see her upper back and shoulders from the way her blouse was cut.

Blue scales lined up on her spine and the back of her neck.

It made her a little frustrated that she didn\'t grow scales in a prettier pattern.

The woman was a Dragonborn... a Dovahkiin. And... that was probably what Willow was, too.

It was another thing that no one told her about. She just... understood that that\'s what they were called.

"N... Neerin Neelia?" She whispered.

"Oh?" Neerin smiled, her eyes curving upward... "Your bloodline is getting stronger to remember my name."

It was a pure... honest smile that made Willow feel warm inside. It made her feel like... it probably wouldn\'t be so bad to have Neerin Neelia as her actual mom.

Willow took the bowl of soup she was offered... and stared at the bits of swirling meat, vegetables, and floating, misshapen cream-colored balls.

"Is this..." She turned her head up, "some kind of divine medicinal brew?"

"Chicken and flour dumplings," Neerin Neelia tilted her head. "That\'s what it\'s supposed to be. I used two different soup packets, though."

Willow wasn\'t sure if she heard that correctly, but she bowed her head, "Th-thanks for the meal."

She blew off a spoonful and took a bite.

...Then another.

It was salty and sour... and not very good... but chicken was chicken. Willow was neither the type to waste food... nor to complain when someone had done their best.

She was in the warmth of a home, not in the swamps. She had an actual adult she could rely on. She was safe... and not being yelled at by her System to just \'survive\' without any sort of hints or guidance.

It didn\'t really make sense for her to cry. The soup wasn\'t that bad.

But she did. She put her bowl on the little table with the thin waxy books... and she cried into her lap.

Neerin Neelia gently massaged her back... not saying anything... just gently... being there.

It was a whole lot better than literally anything else Willow had.

Kneeling on the couch cushions, Willow turned around and hugged Neerin Neelia\'s waist... sobbing into her apron.

"I didn\'t ask for this... I didn\'t ask for any of this..."

"I know, Willow..." Neerin cooed, softly kissing her forehead. "The fates have chosen you to be our Exarch. Your life... is not destined to be an easy one."

"The song..." Willow sobbed... "What... what\'s the point? Even if I can hear it... I\'m... I\'m not strong enough..."

The woman took hold of her shoulders... her gentle expression turning serious.

"Hear me, Willow. You are chosen by the Fates... and you have the heart of a True Dragon beating in your chest. By my name, Neerin Neelia of the Draconic Court... I will protect you. Your only commandment is... to try... to do your best... to sing the song that comes from your heart."

Willow sniffled as she stared over the couch, down at the wooden floorboards... "What... are dragons afraid of?"

"...Many things, child. Trust, however... that ⌈Dragon\'s Heart⌋ will grant you the courage to face your fears," Neerin Neelia shook her head as she embraced Willow fully, "You. must. have. faith."

Willow cried... bitter... runny-nosed tears... letting everything out... selfishly making a literal goddess dote on her.

She wanted to try... She wanted to live.

She wanted, so desperately, to believe...

Dragons do exist.