Her words were droplets of sorrow condensing and evaporating in the sunshine. They were the cavernous shells of words that drifted on gusts of air--they were useless. With tears glazing her emerald eyes, she turned away, fighting the pain that pulsed like fire to her heart.

Fires lapped at the solemn-looking towers; they were now coated with a fine dusting of ash. Her heart seemed to throb relentlessly in her throat, strangling the air right out of her body. For what seemed like an extended moment on time, she couldn't breath. The oxygen was ripped from her lungs; the claws of terror and malice groping at her innocent eyes.

"I must do something," she whispered fiercely, the sound of her voice growing with guilt.


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"Why didn't I help them?" her voice was strained with resentment towards herself, "Lord Túrien?"

"My lady, please forgive me. I...we did not know they would attack," he was trembling slightly as he spoke, his thoughts flopping around his tongue uselessly.

"I could have helped them," the words were like needles jutting into her spine, "I could have helped them, but I didn't."

"Lady Eärwen, you couldn't have helped them. You did not know."

She ignored his efforts and gazed at him, hopelessness filling her eyes. The tears fell down her silken cheeks and she pressed herself against the wall of the cave. How could we be so cruel to each other? How could I let them do this?

"My Lady, I understand your grief. Aýarwen, your home, is mine as well. But," he paused and for the first time she saw the tears of despair climb down his cheeks, "But, we can not change the past. You must..." he stopped once more, containing his thoughts into intangible phrases, "No. You are the future. For your mother; your people."

She soaked his words in her mind and let them tumble like winding rivers over her frailty. With unblinking, devoid eyes she stood up; letting her green matte dress murmur across the damp ground. A slight smile laced its way across her visage; creating an instant illumination of her being.

"Master Túrien," her sweet face became riddled with thought as she continued, "I'm going to help them, my people. They need me now. I can't stand by and watch my home become ashes because of the greediness of others."

"You are right," he said turning away from her; hiding the pain that became so apparent on his features, "I can not do anything, but you can, my lady."

"Tell me what I can do," she pleaded, reaching her hand out to touch his shoulder gently, her eyes imploring him to tell her. She looked at him, trying to read his slight movements and the twitches of his body. Ammaráth tugged at the hem of her dress slightly and he opened his mouth--letting the notes of a song rush in waves of harmony from his tiny form.

"The power to heal, the power to destroy..." she mumbled the words effortlessly, the ones repeated to her so often. For a flutter of time, she closed her eyes, keeping all the thoughts of the past behind her. She did not see the war, she did not see the destruction; instead she saw the thriving life there had once been--the peace.

She sighed happily and picked up the baby dragon; her smile widening as she lingered over her thoughts. I am the Dragon Queen. With calculated, slow steps she began to walk from the cave with her eyes set on the task before hand. An unknown energy bounded through her delicate form as the sunshine caressed her skin. It was time to go back. To go home.

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"Have you found her yet?" a fuming voice echoed across the dark halls, creating an ethereal silence against the bright day.

"No, King Gûron," the general paused while taking a step backwards and bowing even further to his King, "However, we have managed to capture the Lord and Lady of the Clan Sîrfalas."

A wicked smile played its way across Gûron's lips, his fingers struck his wooden throne with steady thumps. His gray, dull eyes sparked to life as they eagerly rested on the door; he motioned for it to be opened. With a rictus of satisfaction spread across his features he watched as Lord and Lady Sîrfalas were dragged into his view by chains.

"Welcome to my Kingdom," his words were dressed in razor wire as he eyed Lady Sîrfalas carefully. Her defiance washed in droves upon him; she walked regally despite the chains that bound her feet and arms. She stood before him gracefully, her eyes resolute, unwavering beacons of light that called to him with a voice more powerful that a siren.

"Take them away," he said as his corrupt, gleeful smile faded. She shot fire and ice down his spine, before they forced her to walk away--she would not give him the satisfaction he knew he craved so much. The sorrow and despair he expected from them was not there and it was, instead, replaced by a powerful defiance.

"You can have my body, Lord Gûron, but you can not have my soul."