“What makes you say that?” Selara asked, an urgent tone in her voice, rushing up to him and nearly shaking him. What had her so worried? The dragon was gone, if she was scared of that.

“Well, other than the fact that I just talked to one, the thought suddenly passed through my mind.” he said casually, watching her carefully.

“When? Where? W1hy?” she said, forgetting the other two Ws of note. “I see—and felt—the devastation it wrought, but how could it have just disappeared so quickly? And...and why are you unharmed?”

“I dunno,” he said honestly, shrugging. “As for where it went and how, well, it kind of just TP’d out.”

“TP’d?” she asked, frowning.

“Shorthand for teleported,” he said apologetically, “I forgot to adjust my lingo.”

“Lingo?”

“Just...just ignore me,” he said, realizing the longer he stayed here the worse his meme-ing would become.

“What color was this dragon?” she asked quietly, intently, something desperate and dark in her eyes, though what it was he couldn’t tell. It did unsettle him, though.

“Red,” he said, and she relaxed slightly, “oh, there were black stripes along its face and body, though. That did catch my eye. Kind of looked like a Valstrax.” he finished, and he saw her fists clench, the fire in her eyes blazing. “I take it you’ve met this particular dragon before?”

“You could say that,” she said. She scanned the area around them, “it stinks of him. Come, we should be gone. He might return.”

She turned around and stomped off. He looked around him, sniffing. He hated random lore events when he was just struggling to keep up with the main story. The place did seem pretty trashed, as if a small earthquake had occurred with the epicenter located there. He ran after her, not even slightly out of breath. “You wanna tell me what’s up? It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you know exactly who that was just now.”

She turned around abruptly, her eyes baring daggers at him, and he stepped back as she leaned towards him, nearly hissing as she spoke, “Do not refer to that thing as a person. Ever. It is the spawn of the Dawn-Shatterer,” she said, closing her eyes and saying something in Elven under her breath. A deity, huh? Dawn-Shatterer didn’t sound good, especially in this context. “And even worse for us, and for you, is that he is Lucinder’s mount. They’re almost the same being, they’re so inseparable. Where one goes the other is sure to follow,” she whirled again and kept walking, “I can’t waste any more time explaining things, we need to go.”

“Just-just wait a sec,” he said, trying to grab her arm, but she shook him off. This was stupid. The thing was obviously gone for now, and it could have killed him at any time. He didn’t know what it wanted, remembering that eerie smile it had given him, but for now it was just information, and he had already given that. It wasn’t returning. Selara wasn’t thinking rationally right now, but he knew from experience that those who were angry had no intention of listening to reason. You only had to play a single game of League of Legends to discover that. Why did no one ever listen to him when he was right? His blood bubbled and boiled in his veins and he tried to resist the fury, but with him, well, he wasn’t exactly great at controlling his emotions either. He leapt for her, grabbing her shoulder hard, and she spun adroitly, grabbing his arm and using his momentum to pull him forward, putting her foot out to trip him and aid in sending him to the ground swiftly.

Unfortunately for her, he watched hella anime. This was a stereotypical event, and he had no trouble reading her intentions with his mind consumed by the rage. That was one thing he had to give himself credit for. His instincts had always been sharply honed, and when he was enraged enough the self-doubt vanished—the hesitation disappeared—and his body could finally do what it always knew how to do. He UNO-reversed her, rolling forward and hooking his leg on hers, quickly flicking his wrist around to get a grip on her, heaving her forward. She yelped in surprise as she was thrown to the ground with her face in the dirt, Zach crouched over her, holding one of her arms back straight in the air, pinning her legs with his knees. He was a progressive man, and believed in treating everyone equally. Sometimes that meant you had to judo-flip a bitch.

“Are you done?” he asked coldly, “That dragon’s not coming back. We’re safe. And when I ask you to explain something to me nicely and you feel like brushing me off, remember I can do this at any time.” It was an empty threat. She knew magic, and he didn’t. In fact, he suspected she could break herself free at any time just by giving him a fire jet or heating up her body, but he didn’t care. He was so fucking sick of people ignoring him, and he would not let it happen in two universes. “I thought we made some progress earlier, but I guess I didn’t do enough sharing. I hate—no—I despise when people don’t listen to me. I don’t talk because I like hearing myself speak.”, in fact it was quite the opposite. “When I speak it’s because I have something I want to say, something that’s important to me. I listen to you, I respect you, do me the same.”

Part of him was cringing super hard, but another part of him was proud. For once in his utterly worthless life, he wasn’t being a massive pussy. That was worth something. Selara was silent for what seemed like minutes, and he relaxed his grip on her as time went on, the anger and confidence slowly leaking out, leaving just the old cringe gamer Zachary, and he awkwardly let go of her, stepping back. She pushed herself up and turned, sitting and looking at her feet, not quite facing him, and he turned away, the embarrassment reaching critical levels.

“Ok,” said Selara, an unfamiliar tone in her voice, “could you help me up, please?”

He turned to face her, looking anywhere but her face, feeling her gaze hot on his face. Fighting her? No problem. Looking her in the eyes? Man, two steps forward, ten steps back. Unfortunately, he kind of had to look her way to help her up. He focused on her hand as he rose, unable as always to ignore the Little Zach getting hyped as he touched a girl. God, he did not deserve to live. He was twenty-three, right? Not fourteen? He hadn’t lost years coming to this world?

She came uncomfortably close, so close their breath mingled together, hers somehow softly fragrant. “I’m sorry. You’re right...but you’re not, too.”

“Then just help me understand,” he said, facing her, the anger flaring slightly, pushing him, “I’m a pretty good listener. Just try taking a chance on me.” Her eyes sparkled with something, and he studied them for a moment, trying to figure out what it was, leaning closer. She closed her eyes though, leaning closer to him, and-

WHOA!

He backed up hurriedly, his brain ready to blow a gasket. What the fuck just happened? Did they just almost...? No. NO way, no shot. He was Zach. There was no way any girl, let alone one as beautiful, as strong, as intelligent and talented as her, would ever, not in this world, not in any world, be caught dead doing something like that with him. He was proof of that. He’d never dated a girl, he was a kissless virgin. To the opposite sex he was just, “Honey”, or “Sweetie”. Harmless. Cute, like a puppy.

There was no one staying up late at night, sighing dreamily out their window thinking of him. Besides that, he had no idea how to talk to girls. He lost all of his humor, all of his wit when anyone without a dick spoke to him. Girls had called him a dork on the school bus, his own mother referred to him as a nerd, his family calling him a geek. And he agreed. He was all of those things, but...but his mind flashed against his will to memories he had kept for study late in the night when his insomnia ate at him.

Olivia, who he had let cheat off of him for an entire year. She had been so unbelievably far out of his league that if they weren’t forced to sit next to each other, he would never have had a snowball’s chance in hell of speaking to her. His friends had teased him, saying he had a shot with her just because she had let him do her hair, thought he was funny, touched him a lot and other meaningless things like that. She thought he was cute like a puppy. Her friends had even thought it was so funny they had come over and dared him to ask her out. He hadn’t of course, nor had he asked to dance with her at prom. She had passed by him later, passing a hand over his face, but that was because she pitied him.

Rachel, a co-worker who he had a major crush on. She always looked at him differently, and treated him a little differently, but she wasn’t into him. Just because she had explicitly told him she didn’t have a boyfriend, then looked at him...and he had said nothing. Couldn’t say anything, because it was a fleeting, foolish thought. He would, and always, be a loser. But still, he thought maybe he could try with her. Only miss the shots you don’t take, right? The sum of that bravery had been complimenting her once. She had said “Thanks.”, and he could hear the disinterest in her voice. He gave up after that, even after...after the way their eyes met when they would pass each other sometimes, the blush he knew was there despite his mind saying otherwise.

Others, instants dismissed by his perceptive mind that could see the reality of the situation, passed by. Empirically, it was still too small of a sample size, and more importantly, it had still resulted a lack of results. But now he was confused, and angry. Wasn’t this supposed to be about a damn dragon, not him? How did he always get so off-track?

“Look, I’ll meet you back at camp. I just want to be alone for a bit. We don’t need to go anywhere, so don’t tell Pevarin anything yet.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. That, of course, was just his imagination, still trying to give him hope, for whatever reason. “I’ll...alright.” and she walked away. And he let her this time. Just like I always have, he thought ruefully, smiling.

He waited until she was out of sight, out of hearing, and closed his eyes, turning to a nearby tree. He exhaled deeply, then with all the strength he could muster he twisted and crumpled the frustration, the fear, the sorrow, the pain—all of it—he channeled it into his right hand and rushed forward, slamming his fist into the bark, tears barely held back. Why was he like this? Why did he do this to himself? He was so tired of hating himself. So very tired. He fell to his knees, wanting to scream and yell into the wilderness with all the pent-up years of self-loathing scratching at his insides. He forced the tears back, wiping at his face. He took a calming breath, steadying himself. Relax, Zach. You’re OK. Being off his medication for this long was starting to really fuck with his mind. He wasn’t strong enough to do it by himself, and now the stress of everything was exacerbating that to lead to regular breakdowns like these that he was forced to hide from the others.

He chuckled darkly. What would the people who expected him to bring salvation think if they only knew how broken he was? What a joke. He took off his shirt, looking at the ‘R’ emblazoned on his chest. The closest he had come to figuring it out was that it possibly stood for a god’s name, though when he asked the others, they had offered no plausible choice from among the pantheon of this world. Whatever entity had brought him to this world had now claimed him also, marking him the champion the prophecy spoke of just as it had the Emperor. “You can take me back now,” he said, too afraid of the others hearing to yell, “this was really cool and all, but I’ve had enough. Just send me back to my shitty life so I can get kicked out of the house into the streets where I belong.”

No response. Not like he had expected any. He sighed, putting his shirt back on. There was nothing for it but to move on. That’s what a true coward did, after all. He returned to camp, the bedding already set up and the area cleared, a fire going as twilight began to infiltrate the sky. Pevarin was absent, as was Selara, Egan sitting on a fairly comfortable-looking log, sharpening a knife by the fire. Zach sat down next to him wordlessly, feeling a little drained, staring into the flames.

“You’ve look like you’ve had the rough of it,” Egan noted casually, still eyeing his knife, bringing it up to his face and grumbling in dissatisfaction as he continued.

Zach looked about for a branch to toss into the fire like they did in the stories, but he couldn’t find any, frowning. How the hell was there no branches in grabbing range in the woods? “I suppose.”

“Wanna talk about it?” said Egan.

Egan still surprised him these days. He remembered how he had soothed him during a panic attack, the boy—no, the man—never once looking at him with pity. He just seemed to understand. “I...yeah, yeah I would, if you don’t mind.”

“’Course,” he said, reaching over and throwing a branch into the fire, the flames flaring for a brief moment. “You listen to me yammer all the time, least I can do is return the favor.”

Zach nodded his thanks, “I guess that I just feel like, I dunno.” he finished lamely, frowning.

Egan chuckled softly, but good-naturedly. It was the laugh of someone who understood the maelstrom of emotions that battered the walls of his mind. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

What do I feel? He wondered, resting his chin on his right hand, his elbow planted on his right knee. “Is it surprising to you that even I don’t know that still?”

“Naw. Just focus on which one stands out the most to you. I ‘spose we don’t ever really feel one thing. We just feel one a lot more than the others, eh?”

Zach obeyed, closing his eyes for better concentration. Which one stood out the most? None of them were particularly good, but when he looked at them all, they really all kind of led to the same thing. “Frustrated.”

Egan nodded appreciatively, “That’s a good one to feel.”

“Is it?” he asked, sitting back up, arms folded, “I’m not sure about that, these days. Sometimes it gives me motivation, yeah, but right now it’s just, I dunno,” he sat in thought again, thinking of the right words, “I feel like it’s just eating at me, man.”

“You know, I was raised like a good proper lad. Respect the Empire. Respect its teaching, respect the Goldskins. I did that, though I did what I had to do to survive, too. The guards of the city knew me well,” he said, smiling, “the cells of Rittendowel Keep were my second home, practically. I’m a bit of a lovable scamp, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” said Zach, laughing.

“Yeah alright. ‘Sose anyways, the Goldskins do one of their ah, ‘recrutin'’ campaigns. They go through the city, lining up any of the boys and men who are able and take the whole lot of ‘em. Tell us we’re gonna suppress a rebellion. Alright. That’s fine with me. Get to see the world an’ all that.” he sighed heavily, some of his levity sloughing off his face, and he quickened his chipping at the wood. “But the rebellion’s only a few miles away from the city. All they say is, ‘Stop them, however you have to’,” he said in a gruff tone, doing his best Goldskin impersonation, “Dunno what that’s ‘spose to mean, but I think to myself ‘Oi, we got thieves and murderers here, you got to be careful sayin’ things like that.’, but I don’t say nothing. Just a grunt after all, not my place.”

Zach felt a chill sweep through him. He knew this didn’t have a happy ending.

Egan sighed again, attacking the wood with the knife at this point, “We put it down handily, a couple men die in the fighting on either side but nothing too bad. I’ve got a lad by the scruff of his neck; he can’t be much older than myself. Might’ve even drank with him at some point, folk from that town come to the city all the time and opposites, he looked familiar enough. Everyone else is doing the same, disarming the rebels and getting them ready for transport. The commander comes by, confused, and asks us what we’re doing. We say, ‘Well, just getting ‘em ready to take to the keep is all’.”

Egan slowed his assault on the piece of wood, flipping the ruined piece into the flames, staring at it, “He comes by me, takes his sword, and just runs it through the lad’s throat, right in front of me. He looks annoyed, says, ‘All traitors to the Empire are rewarded with death. Hurry this up or the mages’ll be asleep and we’ll have to burn them ourselves.’”

Egan went silent, the flames crackling loudly in the silence. “You must have been pretty frustrated.” Zach commented quietly.

“Frustrated? Naw. Terrified, disgusted, furious. That’s more what I felt. But I did it. So did everyone else. We knew it was them or us, and you don’t fight the Goldskins. Afterward, we made it in time to burn the bodies, we were told we could collect our payment in a few weeks from the local garrison and sent on our way. Didn’t sleep well that night, but I bet none of us did. Next day, I wake up and I return to the usual, but the streets are solemn. The streets are never solemn, Zach. Come to find out that the entire rest of the town, the women and children and men who had no part of the fighting, were put to the sword. Wiped out. Just like that. I knew people there, had friends there. And I had helped.”

Zach stayed quiet. Somehow, the tale wasn’t over yet.

“And you know what they did to deserve that? A Goldksin got too rowdy one night, fought with the local men at the tavern there. They protect us, but challenge them, challenge the Emperor, and you’re no different than a murderer. Worse, even. At least criminals get put in a cell. We get sent to the gallows.”

“That’s fucked up,” he said, “I get what you mean a little. It’s kind of like that back home,” he said, thinking of a few incidents in particular. “But what can you do? It wasn’t your fault. You had no choice.”

Egan turned and looked at him, “The Goldskins eventually moved in and took over defense of the city after a few more years. Got to the point where a man couldn’t even thieve without fear the Goldskins would be lurkin’ around the corner. But that’s not a bad thing, I ‘spose. You know what did finally frustrate me, Zach? It was when they put their hands on Besselaine,” he growled, “I dealt with the man who did it, made sure he wouldn’t be using that hand for anything ever again. But instead of punishing just me, they punished her too. Wanted to make an example out of me and her. Made her whip me for near on an hour, her crying the whole time, me tryin’ to calm her through the pain. That’s when I realized I couldn’t do anything. No matter how I lived my life, maybe one day they’d decide I looked at one the wrong way and they’d run me straight through and toss me in the river and be about their day. I won’t live like that. I won’t let anyone else live like that. That’s why I joined the Final Breath. ‘Cause now,” he said, smiling, “I ain’t frustrated no more.” he dropped the smile, looking at Zach gravely. “Where’s the source of your frustration?”

“I’m...me,” he said simply. “I’m useless. I can’t do anything by myself. I need you three to protect me, I just can’t do anything. But I should be able to. I know I should be able to.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” he asked seriously. “If you know what to do, then that’s all there is to it.”

How could he explain that was the very thing that was vexing him? He couldn’t do what he wanted. He didn’t believe he could. No, that wasn’t quite right. He knew deep down, in his heart, that it was because of something else.

He didn’t believe he deserved to have what he wanted.

“I’m not a good person,” he said slowly, watching Egan.

“Ah,” said Egan, smiling sadly, “that’s your problem right there. I thought the same too. Sometimes, I still do. It’s a battle against yourself, one that you can’t ever really stop fighting. Anyone ever tell you you’re a bad person?” There was one, but he couldn’t make himself say it out loud. “No. Not really.”

“I think we all struggle with that in our own ways, eh? Even the priests think they don’t worship the gods as well as they should. Why do you think you’re a bad person then? “

“Because,” he said, thinking of how to put it, “I’m weak. I’m a coward.”

“Every man’s worst fear is to be one or the other,” he said dryly, “and you’ve done and let yourself be both. Well, I admit, that does sound bad. But how do you fix those?”

He let a silence lapse between them, seeing where Egan was going with it. “You get stronger. You face your fears. I get what you’re saying, Egan. I do. But why do I deserve to fix myself? How, when I failed the people I love?”

“Do you hate someone for not doing something they weren’t capable of doing? Sometimes we’re just not who we were meant to be yet,” he said, stretching out. “And if the last few weeks are any sign, then I think you’ve got plenty of room to grow. Sometimes you about bloody outrun the horses, Zach. And I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to beat you in our sparring. I know you wonder if you’re worthy to be this great big Hero. We already think you are. I know you are,” he said, almost fervently. “I don’t know what it is, but I can see it in you. You’re different, Zach. You’re good, no matter what you tell yourself. You’re different than him,” he nodded, “I’d bet my life on that.”

“But you don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve failed to do.”

“I know that whatever you did, you didn’t mean to. You wanted to do better,” he said shaking his head, “And I think that despite everything, you just want the chance to prove that to yourself if no one else. Get some sleep Zach. I hope my prattling helped.”

“It did. I think,” he said, his head still a mess, but he was grateful for someone just to sit and listen to him go through his thoughts. “Egan,” he said, the man turning curiously, “Is Besselaine still alive?”

Egan gave him a sad smile, “I hope so. I had to leave her behind when I joined the Final Breath. I hope I’ll live to see her again one day,” he bowed, “Until the morning, my Hero of Peratha.”

He returned the bow, murmuring, “You honor me, Lord Egan,” smiling himself. Egan went to his bedroll and turned over, leaving Zach to stare into the flames. Pevarin and Selara still hadn’t returned somehow. The twilight had been devoured by the black night, the fire the only light to see by. He didn’t feel frightened, despite the ominous shadows cast by the trees around him. He let the flames warm him, closing his eyes. Just do what he wanted? It sounded so simple. But how? He was always so worried about offending people, about coming off like an asshole in real life. When he thought about it...didn’t he generally do what he wanted in video games? He was so confident online because he knew what he was doing was correct. That was one of his basic philosophies. Knowledge leads to execution. Your mechanics are smoothest when you are surest of yourself because you never hesitate, you just do what your body knows it needs to. Whenever he was angry, he lost sight of doing what was politically correct or considered the polite thing. He just did what he felt he had to do.

Maybe that was the key. He didn’t know if that was really him, but anything had to be better than whoever the fuck he was right now. “Fuck it,” he said, the flames almost rising with him as he stood, his shadow stretching deep into the darkness. “I’ve always been a pushover. Always been a doormat. And I let it happen. I’m not letting anything happen anymore. I’m...” he paused, cringing somewhat, but he knew he had to say it. It wouldn’t be real until he could make himself say it.

“I’m just gonna fucking do me.” He took a second, the silence of the night the only witness unless Egan was still awake, then laughed to himself. “Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it Zach?” he said aloud, walking to his bedroll.

Things were going to be different. This was another chance, one he didn’t deserve maybe, but one he intended to make full use of.

For once, he looked forward to waking up in the morning.

END OF PART 1