Guarda, or rather - what's left of it, was a brutal, desolate place. It had not rained in millennia, leaving what was once bountiful farmlands and oceans teaming with life as little more than an ashen desert.

On the border of the salt flats - south of the mainland, a lonely tribe of wanderers had stopped for the night. They had set up their tents on a rocky outcrop that jutted out from the dunes, and as the sun sank below the horizon - smoke from campfires rose in its place.

Around one of these fires was an elderly woman with a shock of white hair. Her skin was so tough it could have been made from leather, and her clothes were dusty and worn. However, despite her age, the elderly woman had a vibrance about her.

Perhaps it was the way she walked lithely around the campfire, setting up the night's meal in a battered clay pot by the fireside. Or maybe it was the twinkle in her eyes as she glanced up at the endless vista of stars.

By her side was a young boy – barely three years old at most. Like the woman, he had white hair, but his had an almost silvery tinge to it. The boy watched her work at the fire with intense curiosity, paying rapt attention to the way she stirred the contents of the pot.

"Fran," He said, smiling as the elderly woman turned to face him, "What story will it be tonight?"

The elderly woman chuckled and scratched her head thoughtfully. Then, she turned back to the fire, checking on the bubbling contents of the pot, "Hm, have I told you of the argonauts?"

The boy giggled, "Heheh, you told me that story last night. Can't I hear something new?"

Smiling, the elderly woman collected two clay bowls and filled them with broth. She set one down by the boy and picked one up herself, "Careful, it's hot,"

"I know," The boy proceeded to grab the bowl, yelping as he burnt his hand.

"What did I say?" Fran rolled her eyes, "You never listen, Bo,"

Bo, who was sucking his burnt thumb, shook his head furiously, "I listen when you tell stories," He said with an impish grin.

"Stories, stories, stories – that's all it ever is with you," Fran waxed, taking a sip from her bowl and setting it down.

"No one else tells them as good as you," Bo pointed out.

What he said was fairly close to an objective fact. As the tribe witch and doctor, Fran was the only member capable of reading. She had taught herself by pouring over ancient scrolls she dug up from the sand.

Fran smiled softly, "Well, when you put it like that – I would be mean not to tell you one,"

Bo nodded furiously, his green eyes shining with an eager light.

"Now, where should I begin?" Fran mused, gazing thoughtfully at the night sky.

"The beginning!" Bo chimed in.

Fran took a deep breath and sighed, "Yes, I suppose that is as good a place as any,"

She took another sip of her broth and sat beside Bo on a flat rock near the fire. As they watched the embers of the campfire die down, Fran began to weave her tale.

"Bo did I ever tell you… about the dragons?"

Bo stared up at her with wide eyes, his attention transfixed on the elderly woman. She was his world in that moment. Nothing else mattered, only the words and the story they made.

"Long ago, before the seasons stopped changing and the oceans dried up – it is said that there were dragons. Big and small, vicious and kind, they were creatures of great pride that struck terror in the hearts of the wicked"

Fran paused to sip her broth and continued.

"They were winged lizards the size of flying houses and could shake a mountain range with a single flap of their mighty wings. But not content with their immense size, the dragons also had unique abilities. Some breathed fire, others ice – it is even rumoured that there was a dragon capable of calling down storms and torrential rainfall,"

"Rain…" Bo looked up at the cloudless sky and sighed. He had never once seen rain – probably never would.

"The dragons had a great king who was both wise and fair. He treated humans with kindness and respect, sheltering them from the cruel beasts that roamed these lands at that time,"

Bo marvelled at the image of it. A flying lizard big enough to swallow the moon. What would it be like to ride such a thing?

"But."

Bo's heart rose up into his mouth.

"One day, the dragons left this place and ventured off into the unknown. They flew over the great ridge – where we humans cannot pass and vanished into the night. After that day, the oceans dried up, and clouds fled from the sky."

Gasping, Bo covered his mouth in shock. "Did they know the great heat was coming?" He asked.

Fran sighed mournfully, "It is hard to say. Some claim that the dragons sensed the arrival of the great heat and fled Guarda for a land still bountiful and green. Others believe that the dragons caused the great heat. They say that the dragon king angered the god of rain – and that this is our punishment,"

Fran gestured out towards the expanse of sand wistfully, "But who is to say which is true?"

Bo sighed. He loved the stories, but they were always so short. Granted, Fran only had a few ancient, ragged scrolls to go off, but he just wished there were more.

"Now, off to bed," Fran said suddenly, snapping Bo out of his revelry. "We are heading east tomorrow and need to be gone before first light,"

Despite not being tired, Bo did as he was told. He finished the contents of his bowl and licked it clean, handing it back to Fran before heading over to their tent.

He lay down on an old mat made from thick leather and gazed up at the tent ceiling with wide eyes. His mind was racing as he lay there – imagining all the impossible feats a dragon might be capable of. Perhaps they could even bring back the rain.

That night, as Bo drifted off to sleep and Fran gazed up at the stars – he dreamed of dragons.

 

***

Part 1 – Yvet, And The Night The Ghosts Danced

 

On the edge of a particularly barren strait, where the sands burned so hot that human's dared not stop on them barefoot, the Karak tribe marched on through sweltering heat.

Aside from the children, who were swaddled in loose-fitting robes that only let their eyes show – the adults wore very little. Even the hunched old man who led the tribe in their endless wanderings walked shirtless through the desert.

Every adult had dark red tattoos running across their skin – the lines of which were thin and hexagonal, locking together like a tortoise shell.

Towards the rear of the procession were an elderly lady and a young man. They both had shockingly white hair and dark skin, but the young man remained tattooless, sheltered behind white robes.

"Are you nervous?" Fran asked.

The young man, Bo, glanced at her and shook his head, "Nervous… about the communion?"

"What else?" Fran hid her smirk as the boy shifted on his feet uncomfortably. She knew him well enough to know when he was panicking.

Tied to both their waists were short ropes which hooked them up to a pair of sledges that they dragged across the sand. The Karak had no beasts of burden – so they had to carry everything they needed by themselves. If they couldn't drag it behind them, it wasn't worth keeping.

"Of course I'm not nervous!" Bo continued, scratching his cheek through the cloth covering his face, "If anything, I'm excited! Do you know how long I've been waiting fo-"

"Twelve years - if I'm remembering correctly," Fran interjected with a smile.

Bo frowned, "Yes, how did you know?"

"I was the one that told you about communions, to begin with," The old woman pointed out, smiling as Bo blushed.

"Oh, I must have forgotten," Bo muttered, crestfallen.

"Or maybe it's the nerves," Fran added, "You've seemed to have trouble sleeping recently,"

"No, I… well," Bo paused, "I suppose I have,"

"Is it the decision?" Fran asked curiously. She wasn't sure how he could deliberate over such a simple thing. There was only one choice, after all.

Bo sighed, reaching down to tighten the rope around his waist slightly. "Look, I get that everyone picks Oasis as their guardian deity. I get that." He glanced up at the beating sun and took a deep breath, "But…."

"But…?"

"But isn't there something more?" Bo finished, his gaze locking with Fran's.

"Of course there is," Fran replied immediately. "But can you survive without Oasis' protection?"

"I…" Bo looked at a few of the Karak adults, who strode proudly through the desert with their tortoiseshell tattoos. To say he wasn't jealous of their tough constitutions would be untrue. But he had always dreamt of being more than just hardy. 

Just as he was about to speak again, the low thrum of a bell being struck ran through the procession. This was followed by a deep booming voice that seemed to travel for miles and miles across the dunes, "Bo, Tor and Leo. Gather at the front!"

Bo glanced at Fran, who nodded, "I'll take your sledge; now hurry up. You know how Ethron gets when people are tardy,"

"Thanks!" Bo hugged Fran, untying his rope and handing it to her. "I'll be back soon!"

As he ran off to the front of the procession, weaving between trailing sledges and stoic tribesmen, Fran watched him go and sighed wistfully. She could remember her communion like it was yesterday. The pain was just as fresh in her mind as the exuberant joy that came with her tattoo's completion.

She just hoped that Bo wouldn't do anything stupid.

 

***

 

"What?!" Ethron screamed, spittle flying from between his cracked lips.

"I said I don't want to recognise Oasis," Bo replied firmly, not flinching back as the old man loomed over him.

Despite his hunched stature and wrinkled appearance, Ethron was somehow able to loom over everybody. Even if he were a foot shorter than them - he would find a way. Through a mix of intensity and sheer confidence, the old man commanded respect.

His tattoos were slightly faded, blending into his skin as though part of it. And at that moment, his face was bright red as the veins stood out dangerously on his neck.

To the right and left of Bo were Tor and Leo, a young girl and boy, respectively. They winced every time Ethron bellowed at Bo, although, in fairness, they were just as shocked as Ethron. In the last century of the tribe's existence, not once had someone said such a thing.

"Explain. Yourself!" Ethron spat furiously, glaring daggers at Bo.

Bo nodded quickly, straightening his back, "Yes, sir." He took a deep breath and continued to speak, "I am aware that Oasis is the primary god of this tribe and, indeed, every tribe that we have met,"

"Yes…" Ethron growled.

"But…" Bo readied himself for what would come next, "I would like to choose Qui instead,"

"Qui…" Ethron muttered, "Who the hell is Qui?"

Bo couldn't meet his gaze anymore, looking at his feet awkwardly, "Dragons," He mumbled.

"Speak up, boy!" Ethron bellowed.

"Dragons! Qui is the god of dragons!"

Tor and Leo were stunned, staring at Bo as though he had just proposed they float off into the sky. But their reaction was nothing compared to Ethron, who seemed on the brink of collapse.

"Dragons, dragons, dragons," He kept muttering to himself - as though it was a spell that might summon one so he could give it a piece of his mind.

"Do you have any idea what you're saying right now?" Ethron asked Bo coldly.

"Yes," Bo replied quickly.

"I don't think you do," Ethron growled, straightening his crooked back so that he loomed even further over Bo.

"I-"

"Listen to me," Ethron said quietly. His sudden calmness was almost more terrifying than the furious outbursts.

Bo nodded quickly, sensing that he should do anything to aggravate Ethron anytime soon.

"I don't know what that witch has put in your head. But we need Oasis' protection to travel through the desert without our robes. We need Oasis' protection to save on food and water supplies. We need Oasis' protection so that our skin might be tough enough to survive an encounter with a Sand Shark."

Bo nodded.

"So, why would you turn this protection down?"

Bo went to speak, but Ethron cut in again.

"Do you have any idea how much food you have eaten in the last year alone?" Ethron asked quietly.

A sickening feeling rose up in Bo's stomach, "No…."

"Twice," Ethron replied. "Twice what I have eaten in the last ten years."

Tor gasped, and Leo shook his head in disbelief. Neither had been aware of the sheer difference in food required to feed someone with and without Oasis' protection.

"So, tell me again." Ethron continued, "Do you still want to be blessed by Qui?"

"I…" Bo took a deep breath. "I do."