On my own
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: Corrin
Date Posted: 12th October 2025
Characters: M'kadja
Description: Akadja reflects on the hatching
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 12, day 14 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: K’valas, M’sar, Hesbia, Rathandra, N’dhavi
The storm raged on, snarling over the mountains. Akadja crouched in the lee of the cliffs, just outside the dining hall where the glowlight spilled out long and distorted over the drenched flagstones, where the pounding beat of the rain drowned out the noise and joy inside. There was enough shelter in the curl of the cliffs that, if he pressed his back against the stone, he could just manage to stay dry. There, with a cup of whiskey in his hands and Dagger nestled around his neck, he stared bleakly out into the night.
They had all Impressed. Kavalas, Mesarian, Hesbia, even Rathandra who had never fought to Stand or stay-- and Naldhavi. His own brother, his partner in all things, was now bonded to a dragon. A glorious bronze with a fiery gleam. He should be proud, he should be happy for his brother. That’s what kin was supposed to do, right? But he just felt… angry. The truth of it twisted hot and shameful in his guts. He was angry that he was left behind, angry that six months of research and work amounted to nothing, angry that-- that he hadn’t been _wanted_.
Naldhavi and the rest were riders now, or near enough it made no difference. Part of the untouchable elite. They’d never have to starve again, never have to sleep in the dirt or drink water from a boot. They’d have some of the most respected knots on Pern, a dragon, a future.
And what did Akadja have?
After six months in candidacy, six months of washing dragons, of yessir and nossir, he was in the same place he’d started: staring down a future of drudgery in the lower caverns for three meals a day, or the rigors of the road for his freedom-- and all of it alone.
Dagger chirped and butted his chin.
--and all of it alone, except for Dagger.
What hurt most was that it _could_ have been him. The riders could swear up and down that there was no knowing the mystery of Impression, the ballads could claim it as fate and paint a pretty picture for the soft headed, but Akadja knew in his bones that -- when you really got right down to it -- there wasn’t a jot of difference between him and his brother. Not in any way that mattered. They had the same fire, the same burning will to survive, to rise above the dreck they were born to. There was no reason the bronze -- Malzyveth -- couldn’t have chosen him. Naldhavi just got to him first.
That was a bitter bite to swallow.
Thunder rolled above him, mirroring his dark thoughts, and Akadja hunched lower into the collar of his coat. He had just six, maybe seven more months before he aged out of candidacy. Six, maybe seven months to follow the others and seize a life worth living. Alone or not, he wasn’t beaten yet. He _would_ fight on-- but just for tonight he sipped his whiskey and watched the rain, nursing the hollow ache of what he’d lost-- and what had never been his to begin with.
Last updated on the October 18th 2025