Quiet Unraveling
The days had blurred together since the dragon had hatched, the steady rhythm of survival and training taking precedence over everything else. The world beyond the base seemed increasingly distant, a forgotten reality. Only the ever-present tension between Solace and Lyra remained, like a thin thread stretched too taut between them.
They walked together now, along the narrow dirt path that led deeper into the heart of the military base. Jane was a few steps ahead, her pace unhurried, but always firm. She had been the one to suggest they take a break from training, from the constant battle for survival, and try to get to know the town's people. At least, that's what she'd said. But Solace knew better. She was keen on finding out what was really going on with the group—what was eating at them.
Orion walked beside her, his usually jovial demeanor softened by the thick air of uncertainty that had settled between everyone. He was the quiet observer now, his thoughts veiled beneath the same enigmatic smile he always wore.
Solace had grown accustomed to the weight of Night on his shoulder, a constant reminder of the bond they now shared. The little dragon had grown since the hatching, though it still looked like a fragile thing, more a curiosity than a threat. But Solace felt its presence like an anchor in his chest. He wasn't sure why, but it made the silence he shared with Lyra feel more palpable. The absence of words, the spaces between their glances.
Lyra, walking beside him, remained as quiet as she ever was. Her eyes, always a little distant, darted around the landscape, but he could sense she was aware of him—of the weight of his every movement.
Solace glanced over at her, but she quickly looked away, her fingers flexing in her gloves.
"I can't believe it's this quiet," she said softly, her voice almost lost beneath the hum of the machinery in the distance. "It's too quiet, don't you think?"
Solace nodded slowly. "We've all grown used to the noise of the beasts and the Rift. The calm here is unnerving."
Lyra exhaled a breath that barely trembled. "Yeah. It's like we've stopped running, and now everything's... stagnant."
The words hung in the air, unspoken meanings weaving between them, thick as the fog that clung to the base.
"You should talk to Jane," Solace said, glancing up to see Lieutenant Jane's back. The woman's shoulders were straight, as if she carried more than the weight of her gear. "She's been trying to get everyone to ease up a little."
"I'm not sure how to," Lyra replied, her voice low, as if testing the weight of her own admission. "You've been distant, Solace. And I don't know how to bridge that gap."
Solace stopped in his tracks, and for a moment, he considered the truth in her words. His thoughts tangled. He had been avoiding her, no doubt. What was he supposed to say? How could he explain the gnawing uncertainty that had settled inside him ever since he found Night? He didn't understand it himself.
"It's not you," Solace finally said, his voice quiet. "It's everything. I don't know what to think anymore."
She looked up at him then, her eyes softer than he had seen in days. "I think we all don't know what to think."
Jane stopped and turned back toward them, her expression unreadable. "Alright, enough with the brooding. We're here. We'll do this like adults—whatever that means." She cast a glance at Orion, who gave her a half-grin.
"Lead the way," he said, his voice light, but the tension in his eyes betraying the casualness of his tone.
As they entered the town, the quietude they had grown accustomed to turned to something else—something strange. The streets were narrow, lined with buildings that looked like they could fall apart at any moment. The townspeople eyed them from doorways, their faces hard and silent. It was the sort of place where everyone was too wary to smile, too beaten down by the world to give more than a curt nod.
"Everyone's on edge," Jane muttered, her eyes scanning the crowd. "We need to be careful here."
"I'll make sure no one gets too close," Orion said, his posture shifting into something more guarded.
Solace felt the discomfort tightening in his chest as they moved through the town. His eyes flickered back to Lyra, who was walking a little too far away, as if she were deliberately keeping her distance. It was a painful thing to notice, the way the space between them had grown.
"So, what's the plan?" he asked, his voice thick with something that felt like a weight he couldn't shake. "We just... talk to people? Ask about resources?"
Jane nodded, her expression tightening with the hint of something beneath the surface. "Yeah, but we need information. The rations here are running low. If they've got anything useful, we need it. And if they know anything about the beasts around, it'll be a bonus."
Orion leaned in, his tone quieter. "And if we find something we can use, we take it."
Solace could feel his heart beat faster, not because of what Orion said—no, it was the unspoken understanding behind it. They were all thinking the same thing. The world outside was still a threat, the beasts waiting for any weakness. But there was something else. The other weight between them—the thing they couldn't talk about.
Night shifted on Solace's shoulder, nuzzling against his neck as if sensing the tension. Solace absently reached up to adjust the dragon, fingers brushing its warm scales. He hadn't even realized how much comfort he had found in the creature's presence until it was there, still and constant.
"Let's get this over with," Jane said, her tone final, as she strode toward the town square.
They followed her, the sound of their boots clicking against the cobblestones, the distant murmur of townsfolk watching their every move. Solace glanced at Lyra, who was walking with a determined pace but her eyes were clouded. He wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat.
"Night's been quiet today," Lyra remarked softly, her voice almost tentative.
Solace was caught off guard by the shift in the conversation. It was the first time she had spoken directly to him about the dragon. "Yeah. I think it's still adjusting," he said, his tone low.
"I think we all are," Lyra murmured.
They were standing closer now, a few feet apart instead of the distant gulf that had existed between them for days. A strange stillness lingered as their eyes met, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause. There was a quiet understanding in the space between them, the acknowledgment that whatever had been left unsaid was still lingering.
"Solace," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I—"
But the moment was broken by Jane, who had turned around to look at them, her face unreadable. "Focus. We're not here for this," she said with a sharp edge in her tone.
The air thickened again, the tension that hung between Solace and Lyra returning in full force. They moved forward together, but it felt as if something had shifted—something fragile, something still unnamed.
As they stepped into the town square, the weight of the world outside seemed to press in on them, and in the silence, all the words they hadn't spoken began to feel heavier.