Lyron stood at the edge of his village, the early morning mist curling around his feet. He took a deep breath, the crisp air filling his lungs as he glanced back at the familiar thatched roofs and cobblestone paths of his home.
Beside him, his loyal dragoxe Kulu flapped her massive wings and scratched the ground with her hoof, impatiently. Lyron’s father and older brother Lono walked up, his brother looking disheveled like he had just woken up.
“Ready for this?” his father said. “Got everything?”
“I’ve been packing for the last week,” Lyron replied. “Backpack and saddlebags are filled with everything from my list. Tools, tech, clothes, and rations for me and Kulu. If I forgot anything, we’ll have to do without it.”
“If you die out there, I’m taking your holodrone,” Lono said, half kidding.
“No one’s dying out there,” his father nudged Lono. “Both your brother and I did this when we were your age. It's a rite of passage. Just remember everything you’ve learned, use your common sense, and you’ll be fine.”
“I know,” Lyron replied. “I will.”
“And if you run into any brineberry bushes, have a few of the brown ones,” Lono said. “They’ll leave you a little buzzy.”
Lyron’s father threw his arms around him and gave him a pat on the back. His brother gave him a subtle nod and smile. There was so much more to say, about his mother, the past, the future—but they all stood in silence.
“Ready, Kulu?” Lyron said, patting her on the side. The dragoxe snorted softly, a puff of warm air rising in the cool morning.
Lyron climbed up onto Kulu's back, strapped and hooked in, and gave Kulu’s thick neck a light kick. His father and Lono stepped backwards, and with several flaps of her massive wings, Kulu lifted them up into the air and then propelled them into the sky and away, leaving the village behind.
For the next five weeks, Lyron and Kulu joined a small group of other kids his age, and their respective flying creatures, for an intense wilderness survival training summit, deep in the Great Hollow canyon. There was one adult monitor, who had set up a small pod at the edge of the camp, but he was only to be spoken to in case of an emergency.
Lyron set up his lean-to next to a girl named Relle, who had a slender ferretwing named Lollip. She was pretty, but was unlike any of the girls Lyron knew in his village. She was direct in her language, and had a roughness about her that made Lyron think that she could handle any challenge any of the boys could, maybe even better and with more skill.
“You’re shy,” she said to Lyron on the first day they met. “I’ll change that,” she said with a gap-toothed smile.
Their days in the canyon were spent honing their scanner navigation skills, tracking and hunting small animals suitable for food, learning safety procedures and advanced first-aid skills, making crude tools and using tech devices for water filtration, heat sensor perimeter surveillance, and surviving in various simulated weather conditions including extreme heat and flash flooding.
They even had some advanced flying training, which Lyron loved. Kulu's agility in the air grew, making her an even more formidable companion.
Lyron cherished the bonds he was forging with Relle, a couple of the other kids, and Kulu, and the peace and beauty in the wilderness of the canyon.
When the sun set, they would all help prepare the evening meal—usually a collection of meats, vegetables, breads and whatever they collected during the day—and then sit around the campfire and tell stories about their lives, families and villages. When that got boring, they would venture into imaginary stories of phantoms and ghouls, which made everyone laugh and scream and hide under blankets, afraid of the surrounding darkness.
For being so tough, Relle was especially scared of the stories involving ghouls, and would grab onto Lyron’s arm when she got too scared, which Lyron didn’t mind at all.
Every night, the adult monitor sat at the periphery of the group. His presence was both creepy and comforting, knowing that he could lend an adult’s aid if something bad were to happen.
One morning, at the beginning of the fourth week, everyone emerged from their pods and tents and lean-tos to face the monitor standing in the middle of the camp. He and the two men next to him were wearing thin, leather masks. One of the men was also wearing a tech breathing apparatus.
“Children, I regret to inform you that our survival gathering will be ending early,” the monitor said. “There is an airborne virus that is spreading quickly throughout the continent. Until it can be contained or controlled, you are required to wear masks, and to return home to your villages and families immediately.”
As they all packed up and prepared to leave, Relle appeared by Lyron’s side.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said, throwing her arms around him.
“Me too,” he said, nuzzling his face into her neck and holding her tight.
From the many stories she had told about her family and village during the many nights around the campfire, Lyron felt like he knew so much about her. They exchanged coordinates, and vowed that one day, after the plague was gone and it was safe to travel again, that they would see each other one day, when they visited each other’s villages—his to the West in the lowlands of the plateau, and hers high in the Eastern mountains.
As they all soared upwards away from the camp, tears streaked down Lyron’s face which were wiped away by the blustering wind, as he and Kulu soared through the clouds toward home.
As they approached the village half a day later, as the sun set, a sense of unease settled in Lyron's stomach. The air felt thick with dread, and the once vibrant village now looked eerily quiet.
Lyron urged Kulu to land, and he dismounted, running through the deserted cobblestone streets.
The local tinkershop where his father welded metals and tinkered with tech was now cold and silent. The fields and gardens where his mother once joined the elders and grew food crops as well as luminescent poppies and cacti were now overrun with weeds. The laughter of village children, once ringing through the streets, had been replaced by an eerie silence.
And it was then that Lyron saw the unimaginable. A dead body. And another. And more still.
Bodies were along the side of the streets, in doorways, everywhere. Adults and children. Lyron imagined how many more were inside the village homes and shops and common buildings, and it made him panic.
He reached his own house to find his brother Lono on his cot, and his father on the floor next to him. It looked like they had been there for a few days, by the looks of them. The smell that came from them made Lyron turn and run back outside.
Lyron fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. His family, his friends—everyone in the village was gone. He felt utterly lost, his heart heavy with grief. The brutal plague had quickly swept into the village and left nothing in its wake but death, and now an indescribable sorrow.
In a daze, Lyron collected some large melons from their garden and meat from the storage cooler out behind the house and gave them to Kulu. He sat under one of Kulu’s wings and rummaged through the saddlebags, found what was left of the rations that he had for the rest of the survival gathering.
Too tired to set up his lean-to again, Lyron laid down on the cold ground underneath Kulu’s wing. And as a night and a light rain began to fall, and with a spinning grief in his head, he fell asleep.
Lyron awoke the next morning with an emptiness in his heart. With no idea of what to do or where to go, he mounted Kulu once more, the dragoxe sensing his distress and quickly taking to the sky.
After a few minutes in the air, Lyron decided where they would go. It would take almost the whole day, but they would go to the only place left where someone knew him.
They would go to the mountain village where Relle lived.
He input the coordinates Relle had given him into his visor, and had Kulu turn in the direction of their new destination.
It was a long day—with a couple of landings for food, water and rest—but they finally reached the Eastern mountain range. It was cool and the sun was setting when they landed in the mountain village where Relle lived. As they landed, Relle came running to him, her face filled with concern. Lyron's tear-streaked face told her everything she needed to know. She led him inside, where her parents welcomed him with open arms.
Over a warm meal, they talked about a lot of things, including what Lyron would do, where he would go. Relle’s parents spoke of Echogrove, a mythical place said to hold the wisdom of generations past. They believed the spirits of the departed could be found there. Lyron now had a mission, a destination, and clung to the hope of finding his family’s spirits in Echogrove.
Relle, determined to help her friend, insisted on joining him. But her parents had other thoughts.
“We know you want to help your friend,” Relle’s father said, “but you are too young to go with Lyron. You have your lessons, and your life here.”
“But, Father,” Relle replied. “Mother, please, I want to go with Lyron, so that he doesn’t have to do this alone.”
“Your parents are right,” Lyron said, even though he desperately wanted Relle to come with him. “This is a journey that I have to make alone. But I won’t really be alone. Kulu will be with me.”
“Are you sure?” Relle said.
“Yes,” Lyron replied. “I will go to Echogrove and try to find my family. And I’ll come back here right after that to let you know what happens, let you know that I’m okay.”
The next morning, after a hearty breakfast and a big hug from Relle that he didn’t want to end, Lyron and Kulu set off for Echogrove.
The three-day journey was perilous, filled with flying creatures twisted by dark magic and treacherous terrain. Yet, with every day and restful night, Lyron felt the presence of his family, their love and strength guiding him forward.
When they finally arrived at the edge of Echogrove, Lyron’s heart filled with hope. The vast grove—made of tiny saplings, massive trees with thick trunks, and every size tree in between—stood tall and ancient, its millions of branches shimmering with the memories of countless souls.
But Lyron’s hope was soon dimmed by a heartbreaking sight.
At the far edge of the grove, it looked like a section of trees, large and small, were being uprooted and toppled. It was clear that Echogrove was under attack. Prompting Kulu to fly lower, Lyron was able to see what was happening.
A labour of giant moles were tunneling down beneath the sacred trees, uprooting them and causing chaos. Other visitors to the grove were distraught, running and yelling, watching in horror as the trees of their ancestors were destroyed.
Just then, Relle and her ferretwing Lollip flew up beside Lyron and Kulu.
“Relle! What are you doing here?!” Lyron yelled.
“There’s no way I was going to let you come here alone,” Relle replied.
“But your parents—” Lyron started.
“My parents will do what they’re going to do,” Relle replied, “and so am I. Follow me!”
Relle and Lollip dove down toward the edge of the grove. When they reached the ground, they flew directly into the entrances of one of the massive mole tunnels. A moment later, they came scrambling out of the tunnel, a giant mole charging close behind.
Lyron and Kulu were waiting at the entrance to the tunnel.
“Now!” Lyron yelled to Kulu.
With a deafening roar, Kulu blew a jet of flames at the giant mole, singeing its prickly hindquarters. The mole gave a grumbling whimper and scurried away, out of the grove.
Lyron and Relle wasted no time. Together, they worked tirelessly, repeating the maneuvers over and over, driving every mole out of every tunnel, until all the moles had scurried away.
At the very edge of the grove was a mole, even larger than the others that had been destroying the grove. Lyron locked eyes with the mole for a moment before it turned and lumbered away. It was the first, but not the last, time Lyron would encounter Kolevan, the leader of the labour of moles bent on destroying more than just Echogrove.
“We did it!” Relle exclaimed as Lollip barked a tiny roar of excitement.
Surrounding them then were a crowd of visitors thankful for what Lyron and Relle had done to keep the moles from destroying more of the grove.
“I couldn’t have done this without you and Lollip,” Lyron said. “Thank you, Relle.”
Relle gave him a nod and a broad, gap-toothed smile.
With the grove safe for now, Lyron turned his attention to finding the saplings that were his family. He listened closely, his heart pounding in his chest. As he walked through the grove, back toward the area that had been destroyed by the moles, he heard faint whispers, the familiar voices of his father and brother Lono guiding him. He found their uprooted saplings and felt a deep sense of peace and connection.
Then, he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Lyron, my son,” he heard his mother’s voice say on the wind. He turned to behold a giant birch tree, standing tall, rising up toward the sky.
“Mother,” Lyron replied.
“Wrap their roots in a tarpaulin and take your father and brother home,” her voice said. “And always know that I am proud of you and with you, wherever you are.”
With newfound determination, Lyron carefully wrapped up the saplings of his father and brother and tied them with rope to Kulu’s back.
Lyron and Kulu, along with Relle and Lollip, returned to Relle’s mountain village. Relle’s parents were very upset at her for leaving home and following Lyron against their objections. But since she was home safe, and had helped a boy who had just lost his family reunite with them, they could only be so upset.
Back in his own village, Lyron planted the saplings of his father and brother in the soil next to their house. As the saplings began to grow, their leaves whispered comforting words to him in the gentle breeze. Even his brother Lono’s occasional sarcastic words were comforting and made Lyron smile.
As the months and years passed, with the threat of the virus behind them, Lyron rebuilt the village, with the help of new settlers and families who set down roots and made the village their home, until the village was the thriving and comforting oasis it had once been.
Kulu eventually passed away, but not before his son, Kala, was born. The herd of dragoxe that lived just outside the village multiplied and became the largest on the continent. Lyron and the villagers gave them kindness and protection, and the herd returned the favor.
And years later, on their way home from their annual pilgrimage to talk to Lyron’s mother in Echogrove, he and Relle stopped by her parent’s mountain village to give them the big news.
Two months later, surrounded by the spirits of the past and the promise of the future, under the shade of his father’s and brother’s trees, with their village of family and friends and small herds of dragoxe and ferretwings in attendance, Lyron and Relle married.
At the reception, as the sun set and music played and children laughed, Lyron kissed Relle, and then raised a mug of brineberry wine to his brother, Lono—a toast to the resilience and enduring power of love and memory.
