Silent Wings, Thundered Skies
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: KC
Date Posted: 13th July 2025
Characters: K'daen
Description: Kaedin helps during the disastrous Threadfall
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 9, day 28 of Turn 12
Kaedin barely registered the first call, one of the Journeymen Dragonhealers shouting for bandages as they half-ran beside a stumbling green, before he was already moving, hands steady, feet sure. The infirmary cavern was chaos, filled with the roar of wings, the rasp of ragged breathing, and the smell of firestone and ichor.
He didn’t flinch as another dragon bellowed in pain, nor when a crimson-spattered bronze lashed his tail in distress. Instead, Kaedin knelt beside the green, pressing numbweed-soaked cloth to her scored shoulder, murmuring soft encouragement that wasn’t for the rider, though he offered them a brief glance of comfort, too. His hands moved with confidence. His voice never shook.
This wasn’t the time for grief. Or fear. Or the ache in his chest every time a healer cried out for more help, every time another stretcher passed him by. He had learned how to tuck all that away, deep beneath the part of him that constantly recited his craft lessons as a coping and calming skill.
"Keep the wing elevated. You're doing fine, girl. Just a little longer," he said, brushing blood away from the green’s hide as gently as he could, gently massagingthe area around the laceration to encourage greater ichor flow. She shivered under his touch, not from pain but exhaustion, and Kaedin pressed his palm briefly to her neck.
A moment’s breath. Then he was up again, answering another call, this time to help brace a blue whose rider had passed out from blood loss. The dragon whimperer, sharp and pained, and Kaedin winced but didn’t falter, slipping beneath the great neck to secure the pressure wrap someone had hastily started.
He worked like that for what felt like forever. A part of him cataloged every wound, every smell, every heart-wrenching noise; but the rest of him moved, focused, necessary.
Until it came.
The keening.
The sound was like nothing else, part despair, part finality, the soul-deep wail that echoed through every stone in the Weyr. Kaedin froze, fingers still pressed against a bandage. Around him, dragons stirred and joined their own death siren to the growing chorus. The keening was unmistakable: a dragon had died, had gone /between/ forever, and their rider with them.
His throat tightened. He closed his eyes. Let himself feel it, just for a breath.
Then he exhaled slowly, one long, steadying breath, and opened his eyes again.
The loss burned behind his ribs, but it didn’t stop him. Couldn’t.
Instead, he turned back to the wounded blue and whispered, “You're still here. That means we fight to keep you that way.”
And he kept going.
Last updated on the July 29th 2025