Well, a "few days" turned into a "few months", but here we are regardless! What better way to start up the story again than by introducing a new character?
It was easy to feel lost here, sometimes. The Great Furnace was an ever-growing warren, with new tunnels and forges being carved out with the urgency of molten iron. Burgeoning flights of fire dragons were always arriving, eager to test their mettle, dividing up the fire mountain into new levels and sub-levels. This was the hotbed: always a push for bigger, better, more efficient. Every day was a new factory, new machines, new dragons.
The chapel, though, had always felt ageless, removed from the constant hurry of the outside world. Its thick stone walls sheltered the space from the whirr of machinery and the clanging of metal on metal. Built as it was into the side of the mountain, it seemed to stay relatively cool, even when the nearby forges were going full tilt. Sanctuary in every sense of the word.
Raust had found himself spending more and more time here. Of course, that was sort of his job, but it had been weeks since he’d ventured outside of the refuge this place provided. There was no regular congregation anymore – hadn’t been in years – but he still had a steady stream of visitors. Some came to worship, praying or simply contemplating at the pews, or on one of the mighty perches that arched up to the chapel’s domed ceiling. Others wanted more – blessings, confessionals, impromptu services at some great juncture in their life. A few only came to perform their own quiet rituals at the great marble statues of the Eleven.
Whatever the reasons, it was company enough. At times when the chapel sat empty, the skydancer was perfectly content working at restoring the great stained-glass windows, or else poring over old manuscripts at his desk, like he was doing now. It was fascinating stuff, really. The document he was looking at now was an import register from nearly a hundred years ago. “Seven hundred pounds of candle wax,” he muttered to himself, drawing the yellowed paper closer to his nose. “Now, can you believe that?”
His reverie was interrupted by distant voices, and then the whisper (not a creak, he kept the hinges well-oiled) of the door. Adjusting his cowl with a frown, he alighted from his workspace and glided down to the main floor of the temple. It was approaching dusk – he’d lost track of time a bit – and the cavernous space was filled with floating dust motes, sparkling rainbow in the rays of late-day sunlight.
The great double doors closed with a quiet thud, and Raust turned his attention to the visitor. The dark-colored spiral had paused in the foyer, neck craned up to take in the chapel’s intricate architecture. A first-time visitor, perhaps – they were always a little awed.
“Welcome, daughter,” he called out. This was an echoing place, and soft voices travelled far. “Can I help you with—“ His voice died in his throat as the dragon turned to face him. Green eyes. He’d recognize them anywhere.
“Hello,
vieil ami,” the spiral purred, her body rippling iridescent in the stained-glass lighting. “Have you missed me?”
Raust stood frozen for a moment, the benevolent smile slipping off his face into something much more animalistic. Then he lunged.
“Ah-ah,” the smaller dragon chided, rippling her coils backwards, out of the way of his claws and teeth. “That’s no way for a dragon of the cloak to behave, is it?” She tipped her head in the direction of the pews, where a small group of tundras sat in silence, heads bowed. He hadn’t noticed them come in, and reluctantly he pressed his claws into the flagstones instead of burying them in the spiral’s throat. “What do you want?” he hissed. He could have gone his entire life without ever seeing her again. This was not a life he wanted to be reminded of.
“Just in the area on some business. Thought I’d drop by and catch up.”
He waited. If there was one thing he knew all too well, it was that Chime was never without ulterior motives. She stared at him appraisingly, with that familiar permanent smirk. Charming at first, dangerous in a heartbeat. He wanted badly to knock that condescending smile off her face, but the presence of the tundras stayed his paw. “I’ve never wanted anything less,” he spat in reply.
Her smile only grew larger. “Truly...Raust? Is that what you’re calling yourself these days? I’ve come here to ask a favor.”
“A favor? Why would I ever do the likes of you a favor?” He could feel himself grinding his claws into the stone. It was going to leave scratch marks, and he’d have to patch it later.
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten,
monsieur high-and-mighty, but you do owe me.” Her head was cocked to the side, birdlike. “Your son? Perseus? He would not me alive if not for me.”
The rush of emotion knocked the breath out of him, and his claws dislodged themselves from the floor as he rocked backward. Perseus...it had been a long time ago, before he’d taken the cloak, but still too painful to think about. Questions bubbled up in his chest.
How is he? Is he safe? Is he happy? but he quelled them, let them die before they reached his mouth. Like she’d let his mate die. His daughter. “Perhaps.” For a nature dragon living in the fire realms, his voice was remarkably full of ice. “The rest of my family would still be alive, too, if not for you.”
For a moment her motions were a shiver, not a ripple. “That was not me,” she said in a low voice, and for the first time he sensed something like sincerity in her. “You know that. That was Vallin. I didn’t know, and I never would have gone along with it.”
“You played your part, though. Go from here. I don’t want to see you again.”
“Wait. I think you may be interested in what I have to say.” He had been turning to walk away, but paused despite himself, waiting for her to continue. “The dragon that this matter concerns. She is from one of the ice tribes. She survived exaltation, Raust.”
“So?”
“She used to be a mirror. She survived it as a fae.”
Raust took a moment, studying his claws in confusion until something clicked. Round-eyed, he turned back to her, hostility forgotten for the moment. “You don’t think...”
“I do.” She said this with such clarity, such conviction, with no shrouds of deceit. He hesitated a moment longer before making up his mind – this could be bigger than any of them.
“What do you need me to do?”