It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes when an ear shattering roar split the air of the valley. Without missing a beat Eilif was out of his chair and moving swiftly for the door. As he passed them, his hands snapped out to grab up the spear and shield he’d been issued. It was fortunate, he reflected, that the whole village had come prepared to fight, it meant that most were likely still in their gambesons with weapon and shield to hand.

As he opened the door a dark shadow passed over the village. Reflexively he looked up, just in time to see a dragon banking and coming back for another pass over the village. For a moment his heart stopped, what were they supposed to do against a dragon?! Mages were the traditional counter to flying monsters, but everyone here had at most two level one shards; that meant their energy capacity and regeneration were abysmal.

Eilif himself had enough capacity to shoot maybe two Holy Blasts, but he’d only just slotted the shard, which meant he hadn’t generated enough starlight yet. Worse, he’d had power for one blast, but he’d used some of it to identify the shard, which meant he didn’t have enough for even that. Cursing himself for an idiot he rushed outside where other residents were already forming up for an attack.

The main street of the village was wide, with more than enough space for the dragon to land if it so chose. Odds were good it’d merely fly over the group and strafe them with its breath weapon. However, if someone could force it to land through a well-placed attack or spell, then they might be able to get at it with their spears. Looking at the arrayed villagers he could see that most of them were carrying bows. For a moment he hesitated; grouping up would give the dragon a target, but if the archers did bring it down, they needed to be ready to strike. Steeling himself, he stepped into the front of the formation with the other spear and shield wielders.

The dragon finished its turn and came back toward the village. Once more it opened its mouth and roared in challenge. Eilif grimaced as he watched it come, the creature was probably after their shards. Though dragons were another of the awakened races they were arrogant, conceited, and prone to simply take whatever they could. In this case it must be a young dragon who volunteered for the integration, which meant it likely had no more shards than Eilif himself.

The dragon strafed in close, mouth open, a brilliant silvery light glowing in its gullet. There was the frantic sound of someone yelling behind him, and the twang of dozens of bows as arrows soared heavenward. At nearly the same moment a hail of sharp, small, metal spikes issued forth from the dragon’s open maw. The arrows in their path were destroyed, and the few that remained bounced harmlessly off of silvery scales.

The rain of needles swept over the formation and the defenders simply disintegrated under the impact, their shields doing little to stop the high velocity projectiles. In an eyeblink some twenty people were reduced to nothing more than flensed flesh and bone. Much of the rest of the formation scattered, seeking the dubious safety of the nearby buildings. Eilif didn’t go with them, he was too distracted. There was something warm on his face, he reached up to touch it and his fingers came away red.

For a long moment Eilif stared at his hand, he couldn’t understand what he was seeing. Why was his face wet, and what was this red liquid? It didn’t make any sense. A triumphant roar made him flinch suddenly. The Dragon! How had he forgotten about the dragon?! Whatever this red stuff was, the mystery could wait. He tried to bring up his shield by reflex, except he wasn’t holding it, that was the hand he’d used to touch his face. He looked around frantically. There! There was his shield, how had it ended up on the ground?

Frantically he scooped it up, idly noticing that it too had that strange red substance on it. He turned to face the dragon once more and could see the beast coming back around for another pass. As it did so that deadly rain of metal tore through buildings like so much thin parchment. Eilif could hear screams and cries for help, but he stood frozen in place as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do next.

The dragon passed a third time, and more buildings fell. He watched as people ran, trying to get out of the dragon’s path. Then, in the middle of it all he saw Thoroard; the enormous youth had an equally large bow in one hand and he brought it up as the dragon came for another pass. With a pull that set his muscles straining he drew back the string, and as he did so an arrow made of lightning sprang into being. Thoroard aimed, tracked, and released, sending the arrow soaring toward the dragon faster than the eye could follow.

The projectile struck the creature in the breast, lightning danced across its scales, and hope rose in Eilif’s chest. Thoroard had hit it, and perhaps hurt it, they could do this! They could kill a dragon! A moment later that hope died an ugly death. The dragon roared its displeasure and corrected its course, bearing down on the man. Its maw opened and once more the spray of fine projectiles erupted forth. Thoroard tried to dodge, but he’d never been especially swift, and here his weight and size worked against him, making him just a tad too slow.

Eilif stared at the spot Thoroard had occupied. He couldn’t see his fellow traveler any longer, and where he’d been standing there was nothing but torn up dirt road and a lump of something unidentifiable. Turning his head Eilif tracked the dragon, it was turning around again. He… he couldn’t fight that thing. There was no way. Turning he ran, his feet taking him toward the front gate. A moment later it was apparent he wasn’t the only one who’d thought of escape, the gate was packed as frightened and screaming people jostled one another to get out.

The dragon passed over once more, this time targeting those fleeing. The gate and all those trying to get through it were shredded. Eilif didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, terror had him now. He dashed through the mutilated and chunked bodies, then through the remnants of the gate. He had to get away! He ran through the knee-high grass of the valley, his eyes fixed on the nearest pass. It didn’t seem to be growing any closer.

The dragon roared behind him and he risked looking back to see what was happening. The village was in shambles, all the buildings had collapsed and the dragon seemed to be flying past and picking off stragglers. It seemed no one else had made it out. Eilif continued running.

It was hours later when a weary and footsore Eilif clambered into the pass. The village and all the horrors it contained were far behind him, as were his spear and shield. He wasn’t sure when he’d dropped the items, but he wasn’t willing to stop and search for them. Slowly he trudged up the incline, taking in the features of the pass with dull, uninterested eyes.

The passage was maybe a quarter of a mile wide with a moderate incline leading upward. The ground was smooth, unnaturally so; likely a gift from the gods to make entry and exit easier. The walls of the pass were similarly artificial, rising as sheer cliff faces from where they met the ground at right angles. The final feature of the pass were the caves; every mile or so there was a cave in one of the walls. Eilif hadn’t explored any of them yet; in his current state the dark entrances felt ominous and sinister. Who knew what could be lurking inside?

As he walked the light began to dim, and what precious warmth the sun provided was starting to fade. The pass was becoming remarkably cold very quickly. Eilif, knowing that he needed shelter for the night, stopped at the next cave he came across. He didn’t want to enter it, but necessity drove him forward.

Though dark the cave was relatively straight forward, it proceeded into the side of the mountain for maybe twenty meters and then terminated in a moderate sized cavern of perhaps the same diameter. It had no amenities aside from a single pool of water at the far end. Eilif suddenly felt parched, his throat like sandpaper; he had been moving for hours without stop, first running, then walking.

Mechanically he made his way to the small spring and drank his fill. The water was crisp and cool, carrying none of the brackish taste stale water might. Thirst slaked he shuffled off to one side of the space and sat against the wall, curling his knees up to his chest and putting his head down.

Today had been awful, nothing like the grand adventure he’d been expecting. He’d been excited to help integrate a new world, to explore, and yes, to gain new constellations and shards. Somehow it’d all gone wrong though. He was supposed to awaken The Sword and maybe gain a special constellation that would synergize with it. He was supposed to be at the front of a hunting party, looking for dungeons and monsters, fighting and winning. He was supposed to be in the village right now, sleeping in a warm bed. Most of all, he was supposed to be surrounded by comrades whom he would help and who would help him in return. He was most definitely not supposed to be in a cold cave, having run from danger like a coward.

I should have stayed, he thought to himself. I should have stayed and fought.

In his depression and self-recrimination, he didn’t care that he would have died with the rest of them, or that he had no physical way to harm the dragon. To him it would have been the right thing to do. At the very least he would have died knowing he wasn’t a coward. But he hadn’t stayed, and worst of all he knew he’d make the same choice again, he didn’t want to die.

Eilif stifled a sob, he couldn’t afford to make much noise, what if something heard him? So he sat in the darkness and cried silent tears until finally sleep claimed him.