Chapter 41

She thought time would slow during the descent, often it did when adrenaline was coursing through you. How many said they could hop into a vat of acid and emerge alright? The splash was barely audible before it was muffled, every inch of her flesh enveloped by the hungry doom around her. The pain that came was unbelievable, as though a branding iron were pressed firmly across her flesh. For a moment she spasmed, flailed in her suspension, trying with all her willpower to not accidentally swallow a gulp, she didn’t wish to experience melting inside as well as outside.

Her task, her friends, the fate that would await them if she failed, it all brought focus to the chaos of pain that had her so tightly bound. With it she dulled the pain, guided it down to the back of her mind. Through her goggles she could make sense of the green expanse around her, bubbles coiling up from her flesh as it began to melt away, flashes of crimson tearing through. Golden sparkles came to beat back this terrible tide, restitching and growing flesh anew, caught in a never-ending battle to keep her alive.

Despite her strength, the searing pain of the acidic pool remained a relentless torment, piercing Lyndis with every movement like a thousand needles. Yet, amidst the agony, she fought to regain her bearings in this nightmarish labyrinth, pressing deeper towards the elusive entrance.

At the door, Lyndis retrieved her clothes with practiced efficiency, the leather trappings withering and melting away under the acidic assault, leaving only the essential metal bits in their wake. Cursing the Lumarians and their insidious traps, she steeled herself for the task ahead.

Familiar movements from her craft brought a strange calm, soothing the rapid beating of her heart and pushing the pain to the recesses of her mind. With each click of the mechanism, her lungs burned with the desperate need for air. Glancing upwards towards the surface, she knew she could make it if she tried, but doubted the endurance of Asterion's spell. Minutes at most, he had said. With a shake of her head, Lyndis pressed on, her resolve unyielding even as the burn intensified with each passing moment.

As the final latch gave way, the acid rushed forth from the chamber, sweeping Lyndis away in its corrosive embrace. With a desperate grasp, she clung to a stone statue of a gryphon, its sturdy form offering a precarious lifeline amidst the chaos. Gasping for air as the acidic tide receded, she counted each precious moment until the infernal deluge came to an end.

There, amidst the silence of the aftermath, Lyndis remained suspended in the stillness, her senses sharpened by the sweet taste of air filling her lungs. It was a moment of fleeting satisfaction, a respite from the relentless onslaught of pain that had plagued her every move.

“Mother focker yes!” Lyndis exclaimed, her voice ringing with triumphant defiance as she rose to her feet, the sheer absurdity of their situation striking her as hilarious. Trapped beyond reason, with no escape in sight and facing down mimics and a deathtrap, she had emerged victorious against all odds. “Take that you cunts! Your best traps are nothing to me!” She tossed back her head, cackling like a mad woman just glad to be alive, only for the thin layer of acid upon the floor cause her to curse and leap about, finding safety amidst the stone.

"By Thor's hairy ass, we were too slow." lamented Merlia from the other room, her voice trembling with sorrow. "Asterion, hear her cries! My dear lass, it should have been me!"

Leaning casually against the doorframe, Lyndis silenced Merlia's wails with a smile and a dismissive wave of her hand. “I mean, if you think so, but I don’t think you’d have managed it.” She stood tall, wiping off her breast with a casual chortle, “Takes more than a deadly trap to finish ole me off, so stop your bloody weeping.”

“Lass, ya made it!” Merlia nearly fell off the vine she was climbing down from the stone gryphons. When her boots reached the bottom, even a gryphon with happy trills could not equal how swift she ran.

“Lady Lyndis, Lady Lyndis! Do the fuck yes!” Cheered the kobold, right on Merlia’s heels, her scales already the brightest green Lyndis’ seen. “Fuck you green melty water!”

“Look, it wasn’t that- “She laughed as Merlia pulled her into a tight hug, burying her face into the rogue’s belly.

“Oh, I thought you were a goner!” Merlia’s cheeks grew red, tears rolled down them in thick droplets, “Melted away into nothing more than green piss! Why did ya have to scare an old dwarf’s heart like that?”

“Habit.” She replied with a grin, only to have Feku hug her tight on the other side.

“I must admit, I was not aware that such flamboyant displays were necessary for unlocking doors." Asterion remarked, his hooves softly landing on the ground as he approached Lyndis. With a swift nod of acknowledgement, he continued, "But perhaps in this case, it is warranted."

“Fuck right I say it is! You got your own enemies Asterion, look at this!” She tossed back her head, tapping her chest, “Most advanced kingdom around, their own treasure vault, a deathly trap, nothing compared to me! God, now I know why you have such a bull boner for murder.”

“I do not get a boner for murder.” Asterion padded his way over, “But I will commend you for vanquishing your foes." His lips curved into a rare smile.

“No fucking way.” She cackled, it looked ridiculous on the stoic, stern warrior. "For the love of the gods, stop it. You look positively absurd."

“All because I smiled?” He raised a brow.

“Bloody yea! Stuff of nightmares!”

With a huff, Asterion crossed his arms, a playful smirk gracing his features. "Very well, perhaps I shall refrain from smiling in the future."

"Thank the gods." Lyndis replied, wiping her forehead with mock relief. "I can rest easy knowing I won't be haunted by visions of your smiling face."

"Perhaps I shall knit you a sweater—one that warns the world of your fear of smiles." Asterion grunted. “One of those big ugly one’s humans are not fond of obtaining.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I very well might be. Feel free to imagine what you wish.”

Meanwhile, Merlia sniffed and wiped her nose with a handkerchief before her demeanor shifted, her stance firming as fire lit in her eyes. "Don't you dare do that again, missy! If I catch you so eager to leap to your death without a proper goodbye, I'll do the deed myself!"

“Is that so?” Her brow rose with amusement.

“Ooooo, ye think yer cute now, just cause ya bested their biggest trap? By thunder, wipe that smug smirk of yer lip’s lass, before ya start to turn into the dragon himself!”

“You say that’s like it a bad thing.” Feku tilted her head.

“Besides.” Lyndis chortled, brushing her hair, “I’m fucking adorable when I win.” Her body trembled slightly as the chill of the vault began to seep in, dampening the warmth of her triumph. With a shiver, she wrapped her arms around herself, gesturing to Asterion for her clothes.

In no time, she had donned her trousers and tunic, noting with surprise the suspicious warmth that enveloped them, as if they had been basked in the summer sun for hours. Had the cleric taken it upon himself to pamper her, as he would call it? A glance at him revealed the same stoic demeanor she had always known. She chuckled, slipping into her armor. "So, deep down, he's a softie."

"Now, let's go liberate everything that isn't nailed down, shall we?" Lyndis draped Veledar's cloak of invisibility around her neck, fastening the golden leaf brooch.

"I doubt even with our bags of holding, such a feat would be possible." Asterion remarked, gesturing to the other chambers filled with treasure.

"Alright, then let's aim for most of what's nailed down, smart guy." Lyndis retorted, jabbing a finger playfully at his furry chest. "I believe the Lumarians owe us a reward, don't you think?"

"The gods have blessed me with the scroll." Asterion snorted, tapping his satchel. "It's only fair that my companions are duly rewarded."

“Now you’re speaking my language! Who says you’re a big stick in the mud?”

He snorted, clearly not laughing at her bit of good ribbing.

“Alright, baby steps, you want anything Asterion?” She turned round, figuring they’d be better off looking through the list near the entrance, “A new shiny mace, bit of jewelry?”

“I have what I need.” He closed his eyes with a deep breath, “To take more would belittle Korde’s boon.”

“Suit yourself, just leave more treasure for the lot of us, am I right?” She laughed and turned to the others, already finding Merlia gone and Feku gone. “Where did they get off to?”

“They already started looting when you were getting dressed.”

She rolled her eyes, it would appear her nature was already rubbing off on her companions, “Alright ya loot goblins, stay at least close in case there is another mimic! Scream if you find anything.”

“Especially a mimic.” Asterion added with a huff.

Lyndis eagerly made her way to the meticulously organized book detailing the treasures within the vault. With their mission accomplished, its pages practically made her drool. She ran her finger down the list, savoring the descriptions of countless magical potions, weapons, armor, and assorted artifacts that the Lumarians had amassed over the years. There were even multiple selections of wands and staffs—enough to make any spellcaster's heart race. She couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, feeling like a child in a candy shop.

But what about Veledar's book? Lyndis redoubled her efforts, scanning the half a dozen tomes that lay within the vault. Most of them turned out to be nothing more than magical manuals or cursed artifacts. Was that a Book of the Dead? Or perhaps 'The Tome of Whimsical Wonders'? She sighed in frustration, realizing that the dragon hadn't even provided them with the name of the elusive tome. It seemed they would have to rely on Veledar to locate the item. In the meantime, Lyndis decided to focus her attention on what treasures she could lay her hands on. One item in particular caught her eye—a rapier said to be a dancing one.

With a bounce in her step, Lyndis made her way through the hallways, seeking out the armory where such treasures were kept. The descriptions had painted a vivid picture of weapons that could float through the air and act as though wielded by someone else, guided by the original user's commands. Such a weapon would undoubtedly be invaluable for a rogue like herself—imagine the advantage of having an opponent fending off attacks from multiple directions while she struck from behind! Giggling with mischief, she finally found the alcove where the weapon was stashed, surrounded by a gleaming pile of sharpened swords, axes, crossbows, and assorted other items.

As she ventured further, Lyndis came upon a trove of shelves adorned with an array of mystical artifacts—magical potions, dusty wands, and scrolls sealed with obsidian wax. With deft hands, she swept them into her bag of holding, a merry tune dancing upon her lips as she claimed thousands of gold worth of treasures for herself. However, the unlabeled potions gave her pause, forcing her to stow them in a satchel for later identification. Despite the inconvenience, a smirk played upon her lips as she imagined the astonished faces and surprised squawks of the accountants discovering their misfortune—a sweet melody to her ears.

The "dancing" rapier, though touted as a magical marvel, appeared disappointingly mundane. Its hilt, crafted from common steel and wrapped in tattered red cloth, lacked the grandeur befitting of such a renowned weapon. Skepticism gnawed at Lyndis as she tested its weight and balance, half expecting it to reveal itself as a mere counterfeit. With a flick of her wrist, she released the rapier, envisioning it levitating gracefully in the air. To her dismay, it plummeted to the ground with a resounding clatter, shattering her hopes of its authenticity. Despite her doubts, she begrudgingly stowed the rapier away in her bag of holding, its true nature remaining a mystery.

“If I wanted to see someone fumble with blades, I'd have asked a drunken ogre to perform a dance.” Merlia chuckled, she was on the other side of the armory, standing atop a stepping stool. Within her grasp was a dark steel chain shirt, of which she was fitting over her head, while Ulga the panther sat, watching on with a cocked head, “Think I've seen better swordplay from a one-legged troll with a splintered club.”

"Piss off, you’ve seen my bloody skills. You know well was I do that my swordplay is as graceful as a swan on a tranquil pond!”

“So, I didn’t just watch ya drop the blade and skewer your foot?”

She scoffed, “Look, not all swords can be bangers, clearly the Lumarians were taken for fools.” When she padded her way over, Merlia was looking at herself in a mirror, “Found something you like?”

“Aye, I think it makes me look more fearsome, the armor of champions.” Merlia shifted, letting the chain go, it raced down her form, slamming into the ground. It looked more like an obsidian waterfall running down her, “Though it’s tight around the middle.”

“Don’t think that’s the only problem.”

“Well, what else am I going to get?” laughed the dwarf, patting her bow, “Already got this bow and dwarven made axes, nothing this lot have has any comparison.”

“Who knows.” she sighed, leaning up against a suit of full plate, tapping the polished steel, reminding her of Arcturus’ original, “They might surprise you.”

Merlia scoffed, “Yea, that be the day.” She gestured to a tankard tossed on the floor. “Take that for example lass, a tankard that fills itself with just a touch.”

“Sounds like your dream come true.”

“It might, but there be an exceptional problem.” Merlia growled.

“And what might that be?” she grinned with amusement.

“Whomever made the blasted thing only has it refill with water! Who in their blazing mind does that?” She kicked the tankard square across the room before clattering out to the hallway beyond, “Leave it to a nutter to waste magic on something like that! It should have ale, bourbon, or whiskey!”

“Oh, your poor baby.” Lyndis rolled her eyes, “So what are you going to do with it?”

“What do ya think? Chucking into the cursed section where it belongs!”

She could think of plenty of scenarios where that might be useful, though asking Merlia to go retrieve it resulted in growls and crossing of the arms. “Just calm your tits and take another look, I’m sure something with catch your fancy.”

Merlia sighed, “You’re probably right.” She rested a hand on Ulga as the panther rubbed up against her, “Bless ya Ulga, don’t you worry, I’m sure there’s something this kingdom hasn’t ruined.”

“I’ll be sure to remember, that, whistle if you find anything interesting. Remember-” She closed her hand to resemble teeth, “Watch for mimics.”

“Yea, I know, I know! I was doing this before your daddy was changing diapers!” Scoffed the dwarf, gesturing to Ulga, “Besides, now we got the scent, she’ll sniff them out!”

Ulga looked to Lyndis, giving a meow of confidence.

Feku, unlike Merlia was sitting by herself, close enough to Asterion’s position to heed Lyndis’ warning about additional mimics. The kobold was in an alcove, surrounded by coins and gems of various sizes, a collage of multiple colors. She was tapping the treasures with a dagger before inspecting them to her snout, then stashing them into her overflowing pouches and backpack. She was swishing her tail as she did this, even still when Lyndis padded her way over.

“And why pray tell are you not using the bag of holding?” Lyndis asked, her fingers brushing over a sack of platinum coins before sweeping them into her bag of holding. “They make this looting thing exceptionally brilliant.”

"This better." Feku replied without looking up, holding a ruby up to the light with intense focus.

“How could it be better?" Lyndis chuckled, her eyes scanning the sparkling hoard surrounding them. "You're going to be leaking treasure as we run!"

"But I like the way they jingle and clack together." Feku explained, flashing a grin as she struggled to stuff another gem into her already overflowing pouch.

“Fair enough.” She laughed, not having even thought of that response, “Just be careful, whatever you drop we’re not turning around to get.”

"Don't worry, I keep," Feku assured her, tapping another gem thoughtfully with her dagger. "Azzik and I used to do it all the time."

“Steal gems?”

"Collect shiny things." Feku corrected with a wistful sigh, gesturing to her bulging pouches. "He'll be so impressed when we get him back, he's going to be so happy."

"I'm sure he will be." Lyndis reassured her, detecting a hint of sadness beneath Feku's cheerful demeanor. "You're doing a great job."

"Thanks!" Feku beamed, her spirits lifted by Lyndis's encouragement. "I'm making sure to collect rubies, they're his favorite!"

“That so?” She raised a brow, “Just be careful of Crimson Sky's eye; he made a promise that all the red gems were his."

“Oh no!” Feku's voice quivered with sudden panic, her eyes widening as if struck by lightning. “I better get a gift, so he's not mad that I took!” With a swift spin, she surveyed the treasures around her, her gaze darting from one glittering gem to another. “What does he like besides red gems?”

Now wasn’t that the question. Lyndis laughed, knowing the answer was probably closer than he might care to admit. “Maybe a giant mirror? He ever does like to gander at himself.”

"Good idea!" Feku exclaimed, her claws clacking together in excitement. "He's ever so pretty; it only makes sense that he gets to see himself as well!"

"Yea, how about we don’t go feeding the dragon’s ego." Merlia interjected with a laugh. "His head's big enough already."

The dwarf was padding over a dark green bagpipe within her hands. Its surface was covered in intricate designs of gold, depicting images of trees and the sun.

“His head not big!” Feku protested, her arms crossing as red scales started to burst across her grey ones, “He not even full grown!”

“Either way, why not give this to him for good measure?”

“And try to kill him?” Feku hissed, “That do opposite.”

“What do ya mean kill him?” Merlia scoffed as Feku thrust a claw to the bagpipe, “You mean this?” she belted out a laugh, “Why would the dragon be mad for you giving him the divine, angelic tunes of this? Why this be the finest one I ever did see!”

“Then how about you keep it. Bagpipe icky sounds.”

“Icky? I don’t think ya know the meaning of the word!”

“That beside point!” Feku planted herself down among her treasures, resuming her work, “You have dumb ears if you think otherwise.”

Lyndis could only laugh as confusion spread across Merlia’s face. “Well, you heard her.”

“I did, but it makes no sense lass.” Merlia waggled the instrument, “Instrument of the bards it said, figure she’d be all over it.”

“I mean, she’s not wrong.” She tapped the bagpipe, “Killer on the ears it is.”

She gasped, “Not you too lass? How can I be traveling around with such unlearned pups!”

“We not pups.” Scoffed Feku, “I kobold, Lyndis is half-elf. And you say I no know words.”

“Just take the bagpipe!” Merlia laid it before Feku’s feet, “It’s said to enhance your magic wee one, stop being stubborn as the dragon!”

“That compliment!” Snarled Feku, giving the instrument a good kick, sending it sliding away, “If you want help, go find anything- “

Before their eyes the bagpipes began to swell with light. It spread across its form like an all-consuming fire, until it was nothing more than a sphere of bright energy. In the span of a breath it reformed, taking on the shape of a violin. When the light faded it was seemingly made of hard wood, gilded with shapes of the sun.

Lavender eyes went as wide as dinner plates, sparkling with amazement. Feku leaped up, some gems spilling from her pockets, “Violin!” She screamed, grabbing the instrument with a smile.

“How in the blazes did-“Merlia grunted as she was trapped in the tightest kobold hug she’d ever experienced.

“Thankies!” Feku exclaimed.

A sigh passed Merlia’s lips, clearly not willing to ruin the good cheer, “Don’t mention it.”

“Don’t worry, I buy you stinky bagpipe when we get to town! Then you can go play it.” Feku pulled back, eyes narrowed, her voice dropping lower, “Very, very far away.”

“You bet your bum I will!”

Lyndis chuckled as they began to bicker, reminding her of her old crew with Natassa. Though this one obviously cared about her more than the others had ever done. She padded her way through the other treasures, telling them to hurry on up, especially if they were going to make it to the rendezvous point.

Spying a miniature figurine of a red dragon, she was reminded of theirs. Though his book was not here, she hoped he’d manage to finally retrieve it. Though she was honestly going to miss him after the adventure was done, he was quite the powerhouse to have on an adventuring party’s side. Her mind began to bristle and flicker with possible ways to keep him with them, perhaps it was easy as recruiting Arcturus, the dragon seemed to treat him like a lovesick puppy.

Asterion gave her a knowing nod as she passed him by. The minotaur was cross armed, looking out onto the treasure with a neutral expression as he so often displayed.

“Have you already pilfered what you wished to?” He asked.

“We don’t have all the time to steal what I wish to, but it will do I suppose.”

As she clicked her tongue, he merely snorted, “Amusing.”

“Change your mind on the loot?” She swished around him, walking her fingers up his furred form, “Not going to take anything else? I think I spotted some amulets, maybe even some hammers with your name on them.”

“I already got what I came for. Taking anything else would be dishonorable.”

“Hate to break it to you mate, taking that scroll was also dishonorable.”

His gaze narrowed, “It was acceptable in restoring my honor.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” She replied, “But don’t go whining to me when you’re envious later.”

“You won’t catch me mewling like the dragon.”

“Here I thought he’d have rubbed off on you.”

“You are confusing Arcturus and me.”

She stopped dead in her tracks. He’d actually tried a joke. Their eyes met, a moment of understanding of what happened passing between them. Her brow rose, “Did you just.”

He looked away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t take that with me, I certainly know what the hell you did!” She laughed, pulling out a dagger and holding it at him, “Are you a mimic in disguise now?”

Tossing his head back into a hearty laugh, Asterion grabbed her by the wrist, “Lyndis, I like you.”

“Yea?”

“That is why I’m going to allow you to retract your blade.”

“Just a joke, calm your horns.” She scoffed, stashing the blade under his watchful eye, “Though there is the Asterion I know.”

A resounding chuckle came deep in his throat, “As I said, you have my thanks. It is only fair that you and the others get a reward for yourselves.” His arms crossed, his tail flicked, “Besides, depriving our enemy of their weapons isn’t the most dishonorable thing you’ve gotten up to.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“It might have been.”

She went to punch him in the shoulder, though paused and instead chose to wrap her arm around him. “You’re alright too, bit too stoic most of the time, but hey, I’ve been friends with stranger people.”

“Like Natassa.”

“Hey, she’s not that bad, once you get to know her.”

“I don’t wish to.” He shifted on his hooves, before resting a hand on her shoulder, “Though I would be honored to call you one of mine.”

** * * * * * *

Veledar strode through the dreary corridors, his confidence unyielding even amidst the oppressive atmosphere. Each step resonated with a sense of superiority, as if the very stones beneath his feet bowed to his presence. Despite the darkness enveloping them, his spirit blazed with an unwavering flame of self-assurance. This was the day Lumara, once renowned as the pinnacle of Sethera's kingdoms, fell victim to his cunning and wit, its lofty reputation crumbling in the face of his audacious exploits.

Despite any embarrassing details that might have grazed his scales, Veledar remained undeterred, determined to rewrite the narrative in his favor. After all, in the annals of history, it was the victors who dictated the course of events, and who in this world could be more fitting than he?

In his mind's eye, he envisioned himself and his brother poring over the ancient tome, regaling each other with tales of those ancient dragon’s exploits. The mere thought ignited his imagination, setting ablaze a fervent desire to relive those legendary moments. Together, the pair would race through the caverns, taking on the image of those dragons, roaring and laughing at their antics. Nothing was beyond their reach save the limits of their imagination. They would best knights, rescue princesses, sometimes the reverse if they felt like it. Regardless, both his siblings, Adalina his sister and Covrais, his brother, swore to be dragons in those stories, remembered throughout the annals of time.

One such time occurred at a field in the shadow of his mother’s home, the edge home to a rotted stump in which Covrais now leaped upon. The diminutive silver dragon fluffed his wings, grinning to reveal his sharpened teeth, “I can picture it now, all the mortals cheering my name, the wonderous hero, Covrais!”

Veledar had scoffed at such a notion, knocking his brother off the stump, “Mortals don’t call us by our names silly.” He swelled his tiny chest, fluffing his wings, “They use titles to show how grand and awesome we are.” Rolling a diminutive paw to his chest, he’d boldly laughed insisting upon the two silver wrymlings watching him that he’d be twice the heroic dragon they’d ever be, “For I will be the great Crimson Sky, easy to say and glorious to the eye.”

“And what makes you think that’s true?” Adalina had growled, rearing up to drag her diminutive talons through the bark, “Just cause you’re older?”

“Precisely.” He adopted a regal pose, smacking her paws with his tail. “Besides, red is such a better color anyway, more regal, grander. Everyone remembers red.”

“Nu-uh.” She nipped at him, “Silver is way better, right Covrais!”

Covrais nodded with a happy grin, flaring the black frills on either side of his snout. “Yup, silver is greatest. Why else would it be closest to Bahamut?”

“You’re just biased.” He’d rolled his eyes as they proceeded to unite forces against him, he lifted a paw, avoiding his brother’s leap attack, “But it only proves my point that you need both of you to counter me.”

Mid-stride, Veledar's momentum was abruptly halted by a chilling sensation coursing through his veins, yanking him back to the present. What was that? Despite the passage of a century, the memory felt fresh, transporting him back to a time when his siblings were but youthful hatchlings. With narrowed eyes, he surveyed the dimly lit laboratory, its atmosphere thick with shadows and the lingering scent of decay. Broken glass, disfigured tomes, and spent candles littered the tables, their surfaces stained with what he could only assume to be blood.

Among the clutter, wooden toys caught his attention, relics from his own childhood—little gryphons and dragons that once brought him joy. Yet, as he blinked, they vanished into thin air, leaving behind nothing but empty space. "How much further?" he growled; his impatience palpable in the stillness of the room.

“Just a tad further.” Arctic wind replied, “Do you grow impatient?”

“I just don’t wish my time to be wasted.” He growled, then snapping at the ghostly dragon.

“Of course.”

“So…he rolled a paw, before he followed. “You and Nigel had a relationship?”

The ghostly dragon sighed, “He and Arctic wind had a relationship not I.”

"You know what I mean." Veledar insisted. "Were they content?" His head tilted as he pictured the amused couple, much like he and Arcturus. "I assume so because of all the…"

"I see him linger even in this form." Arctic Wind replied solemnly. "He's drawn to the paintings, holds a scale… even in his withered state, the essence of happiness still resides within him."

To survive all that, stripping of his morality? Even though it was dark, he had to give him credit. Veledar looked away, already tasting the bite of when he might lose Arcturus, humans after all, didn’t live long. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Arctic wind and Nigel’s loss.” Corrected the construct.

He growled; this is why he hated his mother’s construct.

The remainder of the journey passed in silence, Veledar's concern for Arcturus lingering as he grappled with his shifting presence. Despite the presence of the gryphon and wizard bodyguard, an undercurrent of fear persisted with every breath. Unable to shake the worry, Veledar focused inward upon their bond, guiding his mind along the tether until he could sense the man’s careful breaths. In his paws he could sense determination, boredom, no doubt sifting through the many tomes and scrolls in Shandalar’s pursuit. Relief washed over his scales, then shifting to a rumble as he pictured putting an end to such affairs. He would march, chest swollen with pride, book in paw, victorious for all to behold. 

“We have arrived.” Arctic Wind announced, the moment they entered a spacious area.

The stone below his paws exuded an air of opulence, its usual grey hue replaced by the sleek darkness of onyx. Lavender mana lanterns lined the ring of this area, casting their ethereal glow over scattered tables, shelves and stands covered in various trinkets. At this stone’s heart was a circular oak desk, strewn with an array of vials, potions, and measuring instruments. Amidst this was the object of his desire, the treasure which they’d sought for so long, his families’ tome.

Closed, the tome’s weathered leather cover was adorned with intricate swirling glyphs, a simple thing to betray the knowledge contained within. Its binding of gold gleamed in the mana lantern light, beckoning the dragon to stampede forth and reclaim what was stolen.

His tail flicked with delight as he fought the urge to warble at his success. Though he was closer, care must be had.  Diligent eyes scanned the area, finding a runic symbol etched into the stone. It encircled the entire area, lines sectioning off parts of the stone with different colors and runes. He scoffed at such a brazen display of a trap, no attempt to even hide them. Over a dozen traps he counted, ready to seek the death of the unprepared. Unfortunately for this magician, he faced a dragon.

Sniffing at such an arrogant display of power, the dragon’s nostrils were flooded with hints of bat guano, decaying flesh, sea water, all reagents used to craft various spells. Among his senses he could practically taste the weave gathered here, magical threads used in their construction. It left his skin tingling, showcasing the power on display, he’d have to be careful. “The security here is great for such a private sanctum.” He huffed in delight that his treasure needed this much protection.

“When one’s enemies are as numerous and dangerous as the magisters, it pays to be prepared.”

“Well, disarm them.” He waved a paw, already recounting in the tale that he had disarmed them. “No sense in getting my scales scuffed.”

“I cannot comply.” The ghostly dragon swished upon the air.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He tilted his head, stomping down a paw, “You mean to tell me that you brought me all the way here to leave me hanging?” He huffed, eyes narrowed, “How rude of you.”

“Yes, I could bring you to the book.” She eyed him from snout to tail, “But disabling master’s wards is beyond the scope of my being.”

“And why didn’t you warn or tell me about the traps?”

“You did not ask.”

Another reason he hated these things. He growled at her, “Then tell me about any more traps that exist within this place.”

“You wish to hear about all three hundred?”

“Just the ones here, around the book.” He rotated his paw.

“There are various traps meant to damage, enchant and fear.” She replied dryly, “Details beyond that I cannot give.”

Not exactly helpful, but clearly this lich had never met him. It did not matter what traps this lich placed, he was going to make short work of them. Growling words of power, Veledar conjured what was called a mage hand, a translucent little hand typically used by magicians, this taking on the shape of a dragon’s paw. He willed it to float over the traps, to snatch his prize without activating a single one.

It slammed into an invisible barrier, shattering into fragments of light.

“Did you think it would be so easy to overcome his defenses?” Arctic wind tilted her head to him.

“Merely a test, I was unimpressed with mages thus far within the city, I’m glad your rotten boss is at least competent.”

“I can assure you there is no equal.”

He wrinkled his snout in disdain, dismissing the now defunct option with a dismissive shake of his head. With that avenue closed, he saw fit to address the more tangible threats that surely lay in wait. Days of consultation with Lyndis and his own extensive readings of heroic chronicles had led him to anticipate a host of physical dangers. To confirm his suspicions, he located a circular stone nestled among the shelves and sent it rolling across the floor toward the desk where the book lay.

As the stone traversed the room, it triggered a series of pressure traps, setting off a cacophony of arrows, gas, and flames that fizzled out harmlessly in the absence of a target. The dragon watched with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, each failed trap serving as a testament to his unmatched prowess. With a contemptuous snort, he summoned forth a burst of flame to ignite any lingering gas, dispersing it in a harmless burst of heat.

Lyndis might have deemed such endeavors arduous, but the dragon found them little more than child's play. With purposeful strides, he made his way toward the first runic line, a fiery barrier that crackled with potential danger. A smirk tugged at the corners of his scaled lips as he surveyed the array of spells laid out before him. It seemed the lich had overlooked one crucial detail—accounting for the presence of a dragon. In that oversight lay the seeds of his downfall, and the dragon relished the opportunity to demonstrate the folly of his adversary's schemes.

With an aura of regal confidence, Veledar sauntered across each threshold with a theatrical flourish. Fireballs, explosions, and tendrils of flame danced around him, their futile attempts to inflict harm met with nothing but amusement from the dragon. He inhaled deeply, relishing the acrid scent of smoke that filled the air, reveling in the danger that surrounded him.

In a display of deft skill, he severed the magical threads that wove through the air, rendering the arcane barriers impotent. Who needed Lyndis' counsel when he possessed such natural prowess? He cast a smug grin toward his companion, only to be met with a vacant stare. He sighed, longing for someone to appreciate his feats, to marvel at the resplendence of his scales. As he strode confidently through an insanity trap, he felt the tendrils of magic attempt to ensnare his mind, to unravel his sanity. With a force of will alone he honed his century of experience, he directed the magic within him, channeling it through his tail and effortlessly dispelling the malevolent enchantment.

“It would appear your master didn’t account for a dragon’s legendary resistance!” He padded his way to the final trap with a bounce in his step.

It had the symbol for fear, a great strange thing twisting and winding like a series of thorny vines. His tail swished, contemplating if he should test his resilience against it. At first, he tried to disable it by unraveling the spell, just like Arcturus had practiced back in the forest of despair with disabling magic. This failed, the enchantment on the trap far too strong for his attempt.

While others might have hesitated, daunted by the reputation of the powerful Lich and the treacherous trap he had set, Veledar remained steadfast, his focus unwavering on the tome just a few strides away. Having already faced countless trials and challenges, retreat was simply not an option. With a deep inhalation, the dragon expanded his chest, summoning his inner strength to confront whatever ordeal awaited him at the hands of this mere magician.

Anticipating a burst of agony or a surge of magical energy, Veledar braced himself for the worst. Yet, to his surprise, there was no sudden pain, no palpable disturbance in the air. Instead, he found himself standing in a rustic outdoor tavern, nestled against the side of a quaint countryside inn. Rolling hills stretched out before him, their gentle slopes dotted with farms and homesteads that seemed to dissolve into the distant landscape. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm glow across the scenery as dusk approached, painting the sky in hues of red, orange, and violet. Wispy clouds drifted lazily overhead, offering glimpses of graceful gryphons soaring amidst their billowy embraces.

Sizable, rounded tables adorned the grassy field, surrounded by various races across Sethera. Gryphons laughed, chirping away, brushing their wings alongside their human companions, sharing tankards of ale. There were some wolven, visiting from Drenedar, the wolf people keeping to themselves, smoking pipes. Uniquely from across the sea, equine like Ceullus were joining in the merriment, whinnying to their heart’s content.

The air was alive with the alluring scent of roasted meats, freshly baked bread and exotic spices. Conversations buzzed with talk of recent events, the gossip of fantastical tales and heroic deeds spoken in excited tones and gleaming eyes.

Amidst this vibrant atmosphere, Natassa and Feku enchanted the crowd with their musical talents. Natassa’s wings were adorned in vibrant plumage as she danced gracefully about the tables, her movements fluid and mesmerizing to behold. As she swirled and twirled, her melodic voice filled the air, weaving tales of adventure and romance. Feku followed along, her violin in hand their combined music blending in perfect harmony.

Amid this haze of good cheer, Veledar padded his next few steps, finding Arcturus and the others gathered around a table, regaling themselves with their latest adventure.

This was an illusion, that much was certain, there was no way he could find himself here. Yet the dragon had to shake his head as he took his next few tentative steps, everything seemed devilishly real. His paw traced across a weathered table, caressing every scratch, the scents were spicy on the tongue, nearly making him drool out of hunger. If this was the trap he had to find a way out, not get lost in the façade of it all.

“Did you see the look on that bastard’s face when I tripped him?” Lyndis cackled, cradling her tankard of ale, “Guess he learned to not call a woman a cunt unless ya want someone to unload on your face.”

“I always ask them before I do that.” Krotos chirped away, his feathers ruffling with every cackle.

As the other burst out laughing, Arcturus was politely sipping his drink, his usual casual attire exchanged for something more regal. His vest, crimson of course, was stitched with gold swirls. His trousers, onyx, were of fine silk, flowing down to his polished leather boots.

“Oh, come on ya git that be funny!” Merlia slapped Arcturus, “Yer supposed to relax, ya look stiff as a board!”

“I just don’t find it funny about unloading an energy crossbow into a man’s face.” Replied Arcturus.

Krotos nudged at his side with an amused coo, raising his brows in a suggestive manner, “Clearly you’ve never had someone unload in your face the right way.” He rolled a hand to his feathery chest, “I volunteer of course to give the handsome knight a demonstration.”

The man blushed, realizing what was meant, drowning his words with ale.

Lyndis scoffed, slinging an arm around the man’s shoulders, “Don’t worry your metal pants Arc, it was set on stun. Worst thing he wakes up with is a bitch of a headache, but I think he deserved more.”

“You should have done him the honor of smashing in his skull.” Asterion snorted, ripping apart a turkey leg. “Now you leave him with the haunting fact of his defeat by such a scrawny, fragile opponent.” He closed his eyes as if in a solemn prayer. “I weep for him.”

Lyndis sighed whimsically, gently shoving the paladin as Asterion returned to his meal. “So do you miss the big-headed blowhard?”

“Who, the scaled one?” Arcturus lifted a brow. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Veledar stopped in his tracks, he had been scanning about for an escape.

“Yea, I think he was a dragon?” Merlia rummaged in her pack for a pipe, “Mouthy one if I recall.”

“Can’t remember his name though.” Arcturus tapped his chin, “Though I suppose if it was important, it would have stuck.”

Despite the urgency of his task, Veledar found himself ensnared by the illusion, unable to tear himself away. The casual exchange unfolding before him only deepened his bewilderment. How could they not remember him? Their laughter echoed through the tavern, each jest piercing his heart as they recounted his clumsiest moments without a hint of recognition for his true feats of greatness. Anger simmered within him as he strode forward, determination flashing in his fiery gaze.

“That’s it, I refuse to stand idle by a moment longer.” He growled.

“And who the hell do you think you are?” Merlia cackled as he tossed the table over with a paw.

“The dragon of which the lot of you seem hellbent on belittling.” He snarled, towering over the lot of them, “Whom you can’t recall his name, wonderous and delightful as it is.”

“Is that right?” Asterion turned his head, “You don’t look like him. You’re much too ugly to be him.”

“Yea buddy, maybe you’ve had too much to drink.” Lyndis laughed, “We’d know if we knew you.”

“Arcturus.” He snapped to the paladin, massaging his beard. “Tell them that you know me. That you adore the dragon Crimson Sky, that your heart beats for him.”

It was not meant to be. The knight shook his head, “I’ve never met you before in my life.”

As the icy tendrils crept through his veins, threatening to ensnare him, Veledar let out a fierce growl and shook his head vehemently. This couldn't be happening; he refused to fade into oblivion. His name would echo through every land touched by his majestic presence. With determined steps, he pushed past them, brushing off their insults and startled cries. This was merely the spell attempting to entangle him, and he would resist with every fiber of his being.

Closing his eyes, Veledar focused on the gentle sensation at the base of his skull, the enchantment's grip tightening. He envisioned a pebble within his grasp, one he needed to cast away. With unwavering resolve, he guided it down the path, through his sinewy body, until it reached his tail and was expelled. And then, he felt it—the soft flutter of wings against his horns.

Blinking, Veledar watched as colorful birds took flight from his horns, disappearing into the surrounding forest. His heart sank as he recognized the moss-covered rocks and the scent of dew-laden air. Of all the places he could have been, why here? His talons scraped against the earth, the distant echoes of screams haunting him. This was a day he had tried to forget, the reason why the book mattered so much. With each breath, his scales felt as thin as parchment.

He pressed onward, the pull of his book growing stronger with each step, a daunting reminder that he would have to confront this day once again. A shiver ran through his scales as he braced himself, preparing for the harrowing sights that had haunted his nightmares for years.

Wasn't he supposed to be the bravest? His mother's caution about this part of the forest echoed in his mind, warning him never to venture there, lest he startle the mortals. But Veledar, ever bold and fearless, had ignored her words. He had flown above these woods’ countless times, defiantly trilling his superiority over his brother. But he never considered the consequences that awaited them.

His steps faltered as a piercing scream tore through the air, freezing him in terror. Branches snapped and cracked as a figure plummeted from above, crashing to the forest floor below. It was his brother, sprawled on the ground, blood staining his silver scales. Weak and wounded, he gasped for breath, reaching out for comfort in his final moments.

Guilt and regret flooded Veledar's mind. Why had he left his brother alone? He couldn't bear to face the truth—he had abandoned him in his hour of need, fleeing home in a panic. Veledar averted his gaze, swallowing his shame as he forced himself to move forward. If he wanted to retrieve the book, he would have to push through.

"Why did you leave?" his brother's voice echoed hauntingly as Veledar hurried past. "I needed you, brother."

"I know," Veledar replied, his voice heavy with remorse. "But there's nothing I can do to change it." Ignoring his brother's pleas for aid, he sprinted forward, desperately repeating to himself that it was all just a test, that none of it was real. With each stride, he felt the tether that bound him unravel, until suddenly, it came rushing back, its grip all encompassing.

He found himself traversing a clearing in a mountain pass, a place etched deeply in his memory. It lay far to the southwest of Deet, beyond the wood elven territory—a desolate expanse where the sky wept bitterly upon the land below. Dark clouds loomed overhead, unleashing their frigid payload upon the trees and souls beneath. Lightning tore through the sky with a deafening roar, illuminating the bleak landscape. The air carried a metallic tang, sending a shiver down Veledar's spine as he trembled in recognition. This was the place of his birth, and he knew all too well which day this was.

Staggering towards him was his mother, Sheondranta—a symbol of safety, courage, and happiness in his life. Since his hatching, she had been his guiding light, filling his world with songs, stories, and the wonders of nature. Now, her once vibrant crimson scales were marred and caked with dirt, bearing the scars of a fierce battle. Arrows protruded from her hide like cruel reminders of the brutality she had endured. Beneath her torn teal under scales, veins of crimson traced her wounds, each step she took painting the earth with her lifeblood.  Despite the agony etched upon her features, her sapphire eyes met his with a glimmer of joy—a fleeting beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

“No.” He muttered softly, as fear’s cruel claw grasped him. “I don’t…”

Despite the resolve, determination, and force of will that had brought her here, Sheondranta the dragoness had no strength left to give. With a heartbreaking collapse, she crumpled to the earth, her once-mighty form now reduced to a mere shadow of its former glory. Silence descended upon the scene with terrifying swiftness, broken only by the sound of her wheezing breaths and the relentless patter of rain.

Veledar found himself drawn inexorably forward, compelled by forces beyond his control. With each step on the muddy ground, he felt himself shrinking, until he stood no taller than a few weeks-old wyrmling.

"Momma," he called out, his voice a pathetic whimper as he beheld the blood and wounds that marred his mother's once-glorious scales. "What happened on your hunt?"

"Veledar?" Sheondranta weakly raised her head, her eyes struggling to focus on the approaching figure before her. "Is that you?"

"Of course it's me, momma." Veledar replied, failing to comprehend the gravity of the situation. He nuzzled against her scales. "Who else would it be? Did you get hurt?"

“My sweet... lovely Veledar." she murmured, her voice barely a whisper amidst the pounding rain. "I need you to be strong."

"I'm always strong, momma." Veledar insisted, his young heart beginning to sense that something was terribly wrong. "Is something wrong?"  As she rested her head against the earth, Veledar pressed his paws against her, his concern growing with each passing moment.

“Do you remember the way to the wood-elves?”

Weakly he nodded, recalling the various landmarks she’d told him about.

“Good." she whispered. "I know you're small... that it will be a long journey, but you must go to them... They will take care of you... keep you safe."

"But what about you?" Veledar whimpered, nuzzling against her scales. "Are you not going to be with me?"

She grunted, trying to conjure the last of her strength, but failed to even move her paws. The dragoness looked upon her eager-eyed child, waiting for his mother to do the impossible, make him smile. “I’m going to be there with you.” Her eyes drifted closed, “Even if you can’t see me.”

What did she mean by that? “But I can always see you momma.”

Nothing came, leaving the wyrmling to be battered by the oncoming rain, staring at the dragoness that would not rise again. Veledar’s head tilted, nudging at her scales, wondering if she was merely playing.

“Come on momma, it’s not time for sleeping.”

Still no response.

This wasn't right. Sobbing uncontrollably, Veledar desperately sought a response from his mother, but she would not answer. He clung to her lifeless body, unable to comprehend the cruel reality before him.

Curled up in the rain, Veledar relived the harrowing memories of that fateful day when everything had been lost. Alone, broken, and lost, he had huddled beside his mother, prepared to face whatever fate awaited him. As the first sounds of approaching boots echoed in the distance, Veledar's ears pricked up, and he peered through the rain to behold a ring of humans and gryphons drawing near. Armed to the teeth and clad in dark leathers and chainmail, they bore tabards soaked by the relentless downpour—a somber shade of dark green emblazoned with a golden rampart lion upon the front.

“Look at this one.” Said a man with an experienced beard, emerald-like eyes gleaming in the next flash of lightning. “Girlie had herself a wee one.”

“How much do you think we’ll get for it?” Asked a gryphon with pure white feathers, tipped with cerulean. “Not much, right?”

Veledar sprung up, tears in his eyes, heart threatening to leap from his chest. He knew mother would not approve, she had mentioned creatures like these, hoomans and kittybirds, that they were not always monsters, but he didn’t care.

“Listen to its growl!” a human cackled, handing the first one a crossbow. “How fierce.”

“Don’t worry wee one.” The first human grabbed the weapon, bringing it to bear. “Stay still, I won’t miss, and you won’t even feel it.”

Here was the moment. Veledar found clarity, staring down the steeled tip of his doom. At the moment that he would have perished, facing down his biological mother’s killers, but Bahamut herself seemed to have emerged to protect him.

From the clouds came a warrior of silver scales, a dragoness only slightly smaller than his mother. This was Seogeith, his adoptive mother. Lightning flashed to shine off her protective scales, bring life to the granite like underscales that coated her chest. When she landed her talons clove through the earth, the mighty flap of her wings sent a gale to batter all those that stood before her.  Silver eyes that he learned were compassionate and kind shown none of those qualities this day. Her very gaze seemed to set the air ablaze as she searched upon them all.

With no warning or hesitation, Seogeith lashed her tail and unleashed a torrent of freezing cold from her gaping maw. The icy blast coated the ground, arrested the rain, and encased mortals in frozen cocoons of death. Men and women screamed in agony, while gryphons fled in terror, leaving justice to be swiftly meted out by the draconic avenger.

Only a handful of the party escaped with their lives, one of which was the gryphon and the green tabard bearing human. The intense cold that had been loosed their way had been deflected by a flap of the gryphon’s wings and a shriek escaping his beak. Before they could shoot more arrows, indomitable aegis placed herself between Veledar and this hunter, leaving them to flee, lest their lives be hers.

When they had departed and the danger abated, Seogeith had turned, finding Veledar pressed against his mother, fangs bared and defending her with as much spirit as he could muster. As lightning flashed, she lowered her snout with a soft whine, a sorrow coming to her silver eyes.

Veledar managed to pull himself from the spell, guide the sensation in his spine down further. It was enough to cast off his shackles, free himself from this vision, just as his adoptive mother explained what had happened, swiftly pulling the younger him in for a comforting embrace.

“Do not worry little Veledar, I shall take care of you. I promise you, from this day forth, you are mine.” Said Seogeith with such conviction, that even Veledar now was given pause.

She was so strong and comforting, a beacon in the vast darkness that swallowed him. The crimson dragon sniffed, a cold seeping into his paws as he recalled her home. He said his goodbyes and padded away, letting the images that had kept him so spellbound fade away.

“So, you’re back.” Arctic wind asked from behind with an air of amusement in her voice, “Not many do.”

Her voice, though mocking clearly in its tone was enough to drag out the visage that he saw of himself. Veledar raised his head with a weak grin and lash of the tail, once more the proud, noble dragon that would not be bested by such simple traps. “Just proves how great I am.” He rolled a paw to his chest, giving her a convincing scoff, “Now stand back while I retrieve my book.”

** * * * * * * *