Aah, for a second I was afraid that they'd die Dx But instead the group is growing! That was really exciting to read! I love this nuzlocke! :D
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TOPIC | Midnight Sun: A Nuzlocke Story [hiatus]
Aah, for a second I was afraid that they'd die Dx But instead the group is growing! That was really exciting to read! I love this nuzlocke! :D
[center][b]Chapter 36: I Am The Storm[/b]
[size=2]@LagMonster @Khoshekh @Tempestuous @starslang @Scyras @excessnight@pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix@RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon @Elzerei @eeeeel @tigressRising @hotdoge@Dragonfang @Whimzica @Soleil @Zexeos @windsway @Neige @KIMJA @rax@PandragonsBox @Silurian @Wolcan @AnnaStar353 @Rhyvendra @TwoJay @Aravis@CoatlPrince @Galaxy99 @Tarajara @tsaarn @Druddigon8 @brianna100@Digimon11 @Espeon5712 @fairyn @Surpirate @HuntingAlpha @Icewing24@AmongTheStars [/size][/center]
The sky was dark, and Shrike’s blood sang in her veins. Winter winds howled around her, tugging at her wings and forcing tears from the corners of her eyes. She wanted to howl with them, in a wild chorus.
It felt good to be aboveground. The snow and cold had always been enemies Shrike could master; out here there were no shady prophecies or political maneuverings. There was no time to worry about those she’d left behind, or what lay ahead: all of her concentration was needed to battle the storm, intent as it was on battering her against the tundra below.
There was a flash of movement at her right, and she recoiled, angling her wings to get a better look. A point of blue appeared in the driving grayness of the snow, resolving itself into a storm seeker’s third eye as it drew nearer. Shrike eyed it warily – the bird was almost her size, and definitely knew how to use those powerful talons. But the creature didn’t seem malevolent. It flew alongside her at a respectful distance, riding the same turbulent air current. In the span of a few minutes, it was joined by a second, then a third, then a fourth. They surrounded her in a loose formation, but Shrike didn’t feel threatened by them. With a pang, she remembered Clementine’s little flock – could these be the same birds?
There was no way to know, so Shrike flew silently on with her growing entourage. They came in two’s and three’s, at first, then in dozens, until she found herself in the center of a hundreds-strong flock. She’d been born on the pack ice, and was no stranger to the storms that swept the Icefield, but these creatures were true masters of the wind and snow. With a grace she could never hope to emulate, they carved the bitter air with their wings, moving as one with the stormclouds. They called to one another in raucous voices, and she found herself joining them, laughing as she reveled in their wildness.
It was over too soon; they reached the rolling edge of the stormfront, and Shrike broke free into the clear night beyond. Most of the storm seekers turned back to fly along the bottom of the clouds, but one peeled away, regarding Shrike for just a moment longer before it joined its brethren. She was sad to see it go.
Dark and quiet reigned once she was past the reach of the storm; the moon was young, but the starlight reflecting off the snow below provided enough light for her to see.
How angry would the others be, once they’d realized she had gone? She wasn’t sure she trusted Raust, but he had some sort of stake in her, and Chime...well, Chime was a friend, despite everything. She’d be hurt that Shrike had left without a word, although she’d never show it. And Quint...the little fae seemed harmless enough. Hopefully he wouldn’t give them much trouble. Hopefully they’d all be safe, now that they were free of Shrike’s endangering presence.
Lost in her thoughts as she was, the sudden sight of fire below almost led to her tumbling out of the air in surprise. Regaining her balance, she veered sharply to the left, avoiding the circle of light that might expose her to anyone below. The movement cost her altitude, so she flew lower, making for an outcropping of ice and rock some distance from the fires. Her landing was heavier than the would have liked, and she had to dig the spikes of her armor into the ice to keep from skidding. Holding her breath for a minute, she watched the dark shapes around the fires beyond in trepidation, but they didn’t look toward her. Must not have heard.
From her vantage point, she could see a small band camped in the narrow valley below. Mostly tundras, with a few mirrors alongside. At the fire closest to her, a snapper stood before a large iron pot, stirring its contents with a spoon held in her mouth. “Not now,” she heard the dragon say, dropping the spoon to admonish a trio of tundra hatchlings scampering around her feet. “It’s not done yet. Show some patience, you scoundrels.”
The hatchlings didn’t appear to mind the advice much; one made a leap towards the dropped spoon. Tutting, the snapper stopped his progress with a heavy forefoot. Squealing in mock-fear, the hatchling wriggled free and scampered away. [i]“Patience!”[/i] the snapper repeated, exasperated. “This’ll be done in a minute. And that goes for you too, my dear.” Ponderously, the snapper turned to look behind her, roughly in Shrike’s direction.
Actually, exactly in Shrike’s direction. She froze against the ice, unsure of what to do.
“I heard you land. You’re more than welcome to come eat with us. No refugee is turned away here.”
Uncertain, Shrike crept from her insufficient hiding place. It would seem suspicious to fly away now, and at first glance the dragons before her seemed harmless enough. The band – there were ten adults, and maybe twice as many hatchlings – all glanced up as she entered their camp. Some greeted her with nods, then went back to eating or conversing. Up close, they seemed a weary, haggard bunch; what belongings they had were faded and frayed, and she didn’t see much in the way of weapons. Her fear eased somewhat, and she made her way closer to the snapper, who smiled kindly. “Welcome, then. Would you like something to eat?”
“I have...some...” Shrike stammered, gesturing at her pack. The snapper shrugged. “We can make a trade later, then. I imagine you’d like a hot meal!”
Without giving her a chance to decline, the dragon fished a serving of insects out of her stew and passed the bowl over to Shrike. It would have been rude to refuse, so Shrike took it with a nod of confused thanks. She watched as the snapper doled out root vegetables to the excited tundra hatchlings, and then made her way around the rest of the camp, passing out bowls to every dragon. When she had finished, she retrieved a bowl for herself, settling down next to Shrike.
“Eat up, dear, or it’ll get cold.”
Feeling a strange sense of unreality, Shrike raised the bowl to her mouth. The snapper continued talking as they ate. “Sorry if I frightened you there, little fae. I am called Dania, and this is my little tribe. Families, mostly. Some orphans we’ve picked up.” A sad smile crossed her face as she watched the tundra hatchlings wrestle in the snow. “We’ve travelled a long way, and I imagine you have too. What should I call you?”
Shrike’s mind raced. “Ah. I’m...Clementine.” She balked even as the word left her mouth – of all fake names, why that one? “Yes, I’ve come a long way as well.”
“I noticed you coming in from the north,” Dania began, sounding curious. “Were you turned back by the storms, or...?”
“I’m actually on my way south. I’m looking for...my family.”
The snapper sighed, and something dark passed across her face. For all her kindness, this dragon had suffered. “South,” Dania repeated solemnly. “That is a dangerous way to go, but I suppose I can’t dissuade you. Your family may live yet; there are new refugees making their way north all the time.”
[i]I know they still live. That’s causing problems for everyone else.[/i] “I’ll find them if it kills me.”
Another sigh. “You are quite young for such a quest. If you change your mind, you are welcome to travel with us – if not, may Icewarden’s blessings be upon you.” Finished with her dinner, the big dragon lumbered to her feet. “Come. Let me introduce you.”
They made their way around the camp; all of the dragons Shrike met were tired but friendly, repeating Dania’s offer to stay with them as they made their way north. The hatchlings greeted her with enthusiasm, and some with wonder – perhaps some of them had never seen a fae before. One mirror pup took a particular liking to her, and eventually had to be dragged away by her apologetic parents. As she was in the process of dislodging the hatchling’s jaws from her tail armor, she noticed a forlorn structure off in the distance. The shack was leaning and decrepit, standing some distance from the campfires. Dania noticed her gaze. “Ah,” the snapper commented, “yes. One of our members is very ill, and I’m afraid he must be kept separated until he’s on the mend again. Very sad business – that’s his mate over there,” she said, pointing out a light-colored tundra tending to a solitary hatchling.
Something about the shack made Shrike’s fins prickle, but Dania’s manner made it clear that the topic of conversation was closed. Maybe the sick dragon’s mate could tell her more, but she didn’t want to cause upset.
“You’re welcome to stay by our fires tonight, even if you won’t be continuing with us,” Dania rumbled. Shrike considered refusing – she’d probably be safer alone – but part of her longed for the comfort of company and campfires. It felt like home. “I can stay the night, if it’s not a burden.”
“Not at all, dear! Sleep wherever you’d like – I’ll be getting to sleep too, once I get these hatchlings to bed. Willow! Sedge! Rowan!” she barked, leaving to chase after the errant tundra siblings. “Bedtime for you. Oh no, I am not playing this game again.”
Shrike curled up by the fire, finally feeling the tense knot in her stomach relax. One night here, in the safety of this haphazard little family, and she’d be gone before morning light. As the firelight flickered before her, she began to drift off, reality fading into dreams of curling up in different camps, surrounded by her packmates.
[center][img] http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JUtDBTct_0Q/UQlPKIEt-KI/AAAAAAAALEQ/_G9dBj28G44/s1600/snowflake_divider.gif[/img][/center]
The mirror appeared from the shadows like a ghost, making Dania jump. “Oh! I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
Expression unreadable under his black wolf cape, the newcomer shrugged. “It’s how I move. Can’t change it.” He slunk closer, wings darkly iridescent in the firelight. He was strange, that one – sometimes more wolf than dragon. But he was very good at what he did.
“I won’t keep you long,” Dania told him, keeping her voice low. “I think she’s here, the one he’s looking for. Tell Gregor.” The mirror flicked his tail once and was gone, disappearing into the dark landscape with nothing more than a swish of fur.
Chapter 36: I Am The Storm
@LagMonster @Khoshekh @Tempestuous @starslang @Scyras @excessnight@pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix@RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon @Elzerei @eeeeel @tigressRising @hotdoge@Dragonfang @Whimzica @Soleil @Zexeos @windsway @Neige @KIMJA @rax@PandragonsBox @Silurian @Wolcan @AnnaStar353 @Rhyvendra @TwoJay @Aravis@CoatlPrince @Galaxy99 @Tarajara @tsaarn @Druddigon8 @brianna100@Digimon11 @Espeon5712 @fairyn @Surpirate @HuntingAlpha @Icewing24@AmongTheStars
@LagMonster @Khoshekh @Tempestuous @starslang @Scyras @excessnight@pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix@RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon @Elzerei @eeeeel @tigressRising @hotdoge@Dragonfang @Whimzica @Soleil @Zexeos @windsway @Neige @KIMJA @rax@PandragonsBox @Silurian @Wolcan @AnnaStar353 @Rhyvendra @TwoJay @Aravis@CoatlPrince @Galaxy99 @Tarajara @tsaarn @Druddigon8 @brianna100@Digimon11 @Espeon5712 @fairyn @Surpirate @HuntingAlpha @Icewing24@AmongTheStars
The sky was dark, and Shrike’s blood sang in her veins. Winter winds howled around her, tugging at her wings and forcing tears from the corners of her eyes. She wanted to howl with them, in a wild chorus.
It felt good to be aboveground. The snow and cold had always been enemies Shrike could master; out here there were no shady prophecies or political maneuverings. There was no time to worry about those she’d left behind, or what lay ahead: all of her concentration was needed to battle the storm, intent as it was on battering her against the tundra below.
There was a flash of movement at her right, and she recoiled, angling her wings to get a better look. A point of blue appeared in the driving grayness of the snow, resolving itself into a storm seeker’s third eye as it drew nearer. Shrike eyed it warily – the bird was almost her size, and definitely knew how to use those powerful talons. But the creature didn’t seem malevolent. It flew alongside her at a respectful distance, riding the same turbulent air current. In the span of a few minutes, it was joined by a second, then a third, then a fourth. They surrounded her in a loose formation, but Shrike didn’t feel threatened by them. With a pang, she remembered Clementine’s little flock – could these be the same birds?
There was no way to know, so Shrike flew silently on with her growing entourage. They came in two’s and three’s, at first, then in dozens, until she found herself in the center of a hundreds-strong flock. She’d been born on the pack ice, and was no stranger to the storms that swept the Icefield, but these creatures were true masters of the wind and snow. With a grace she could never hope to emulate, they carved the bitter air with their wings, moving as one with the stormclouds. They called to one another in raucous voices, and she found herself joining them, laughing as she reveled in their wildness.
It was over too soon; they reached the rolling edge of the stormfront, and Shrike broke free into the clear night beyond. Most of the storm seekers turned back to fly along the bottom of the clouds, but one peeled away, regarding Shrike for just a moment longer before it joined its brethren. She was sad to see it go.
Dark and quiet reigned once she was past the reach of the storm; the moon was young, but the starlight reflecting off the snow below provided enough light for her to see.
How angry would the others be, once they’d realized she had gone? She wasn’t sure she trusted Raust, but he had some sort of stake in her, and Chime...well, Chime was a friend, despite everything. She’d be hurt that Shrike had left without a word, although she’d never show it. And Quint...the little fae seemed harmless enough. Hopefully he wouldn’t give them much trouble. Hopefully they’d all be safe, now that they were free of Shrike’s endangering presence.
Lost in her thoughts as she was, the sudden sight of fire below almost led to her tumbling out of the air in surprise. Regaining her balance, she veered sharply to the left, avoiding the circle of light that might expose her to anyone below. The movement cost her altitude, so she flew lower, making for an outcropping of ice and rock some distance from the fires. Her landing was heavier than the would have liked, and she had to dig the spikes of her armor into the ice to keep from skidding. Holding her breath for a minute, she watched the dark shapes around the fires beyond in trepidation, but they didn’t look toward her. Must not have heard.
From her vantage point, she could see a small band camped in the narrow valley below. Mostly tundras, with a few mirrors alongside. At the fire closest to her, a snapper stood before a large iron pot, stirring its contents with a spoon held in her mouth. “Not now,” she heard the dragon say, dropping the spoon to admonish a trio of tundra hatchlings scampering around her feet. “It’s not done yet. Show some patience, you scoundrels.”
The hatchlings didn’t appear to mind the advice much; one made a leap towards the dropped spoon. Tutting, the snapper stopped his progress with a heavy forefoot. Squealing in mock-fear, the hatchling wriggled free and scampered away. “Patience!” the snapper repeated, exasperated. “This’ll be done in a minute. And that goes for you too, my dear.” Ponderously, the snapper turned to look behind her, roughly in Shrike’s direction.
Actually, exactly in Shrike’s direction. She froze against the ice, unsure of what to do.
“I heard you land. You’re more than welcome to come eat with us. No refugee is turned away here.”
Uncertain, Shrike crept from her insufficient hiding place. It would seem suspicious to fly away now, and at first glance the dragons before her seemed harmless enough. The band – there were ten adults, and maybe twice as many hatchlings – all glanced up as she entered their camp. Some greeted her with nods, then went back to eating or conversing. Up close, they seemed a weary, haggard bunch; what belongings they had were faded and frayed, and she didn’t see much in the way of weapons. Her fear eased somewhat, and she made her way closer to the snapper, who smiled kindly. “Welcome, then. Would you like something to eat?”
“I have...some...” Shrike stammered, gesturing at her pack. The snapper shrugged. “We can make a trade later, then. I imagine you’d like a hot meal!”
Without giving her a chance to decline, the dragon fished a serving of insects out of her stew and passed the bowl over to Shrike. It would have been rude to refuse, so Shrike took it with a nod of confused thanks. She watched as the snapper doled out root vegetables to the excited tundra hatchlings, and then made her way around the rest of the camp, passing out bowls to every dragon. When she had finished, she retrieved a bowl for herself, settling down next to Shrike.
“Eat up, dear, or it’ll get cold.”
Feeling a strange sense of unreality, Shrike raised the bowl to her mouth. The snapper continued talking as they ate. “Sorry if I frightened you there, little fae. I am called Dania, and this is my little tribe. Families, mostly. Some orphans we’ve picked up.” A sad smile crossed her face as she watched the tundra hatchlings wrestle in the snow. “We’ve travelled a long way, and I imagine you have too. What should I call you?”
Shrike’s mind raced. “Ah. I’m...Clementine.” She balked even as the word left her mouth – of all fake names, why that one? “Yes, I’ve come a long way as well.”
“I noticed you coming in from the north,” Dania began, sounding curious. “Were you turned back by the storms, or...?”
“I’m actually on my way south. I’m looking for...my family.”
The snapper sighed, and something dark passed across her face. For all her kindness, this dragon had suffered. “South,” Dania repeated solemnly. “That is a dangerous way to go, but I suppose I can’t dissuade you. Your family may live yet; there are new refugees making their way north all the time.”
I know they still live. That’s causing problems for everyone else. “I’ll find them if it kills me.”
Another sigh. “You are quite young for such a quest. If you change your mind, you are welcome to travel with us – if not, may Icewarden’s blessings be upon you.” Finished with her dinner, the big dragon lumbered to her feet. “Come. Let me introduce you.”
They made their way around the camp; all of the dragons Shrike met were tired but friendly, repeating Dania’s offer to stay with them as they made their way north. The hatchlings greeted her with enthusiasm, and some with wonder – perhaps some of them had never seen a fae before. One mirror pup took a particular liking to her, and eventually had to be dragged away by her apologetic parents. As she was in the process of dislodging the hatchling’s jaws from her tail armor, she noticed a forlorn structure off in the distance. The shack was leaning and decrepit, standing some distance from the campfires. Dania noticed her gaze. “Ah,” the snapper commented, “yes. One of our members is very ill, and I’m afraid he must be kept separated until he’s on the mend again. Very sad business – that’s his mate over there,” she said, pointing out a light-colored tundra tending to a solitary hatchling.
Something about the shack made Shrike’s fins prickle, but Dania’s manner made it clear that the topic of conversation was closed. Maybe the sick dragon’s mate could tell her more, but she didn’t want to cause upset.
“You’re welcome to stay by our fires tonight, even if you won’t be continuing with us,” Dania rumbled. Shrike considered refusing – she’d probably be safer alone – but part of her longed for the comfort of company and campfires. It felt like home. “I can stay the night, if it’s not a burden.”
“Not at all, dear! Sleep wherever you’d like – I’ll be getting to sleep too, once I get these hatchlings to bed. Willow! Sedge! Rowan!” she barked, leaving to chase after the errant tundra siblings. “Bedtime for you. Oh no, I am not playing this game again.”
Shrike curled up by the fire, finally feeling the tense knot in her stomach relax. One night here, in the safety of this haphazard little family, and she’d be gone before morning light. As the firelight flickered before her, she began to drift off, reality fading into dreams of curling up in different camps, surrounded by her packmates.
The mirror appeared from the shadows like a ghost, making Dania jump. “Oh! I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
Expression unreadable under his black wolf cape, the newcomer shrugged. “It’s how I move. Can’t change it.” He slunk closer, wings darkly iridescent in the firelight. He was strange, that one – sometimes more wolf than dragon. But he was very good at what he did.
“I won’t keep you long,” Dania told him, keeping her voice low. “I think she’s here, the one he’s looking for. Tell Gregor.” The mirror flicked his tail once and was gone, disappearing into the dark landscape with nothing more than a swish of fur.
@cerastes
Poor Shrike, she just can't trust anyone...
Also, if you're still collecting links to other people's stories, mine is on my signature now.
Poor Shrike, she just can't trust anyone...
Also, if you're still collecting links to other people's stories, mine is on my signature now.
@cerastes
Poor Shrike, she just can't trust anyone...
Also, if you're still collecting links to other people's stories, mine is on my signature now.
Poor Shrike, she just can't trust anyone...
Also, if you're still collecting links to other people's stories, mine is on my signature now.
Guardian
Hmmmmmm... *stares at your lair* interesting! Curious to see how this continues! ;D
Edit:
@Cerastes
Seems like your dragons are starving, but if you ever come back/ continue writing this... I changed my name from Neige to my current one and would love to stay on your ping list! x3
Edit:
@Cerastes
Seems like your dragons are starving, but if you ever come back/ continue writing this... I changed my name from Neige to my current one and would love to stay on your ping list! x3
Hmmmmmm... *stares at your lair* interesting! Curious to see how this continues! ;D
Edit:
@Cerastes
Seems like your dragons are starving, but if you ever come back/ continue writing this... I changed my name from Neige to my current one and would love to stay on your ping list! x3
Edit:
@Cerastes
Seems like your dragons are starving, but if you ever come back/ continue writing this... I changed my name from Neige to my current one and would love to stay on your ping list! x3
So um. Lol. A thousand apologies for briefly returning to this only to leave again. I've changed jobs and moved three times in the past few months (the last time about 5,000 miles from where I used to live) so FR kinda fell by the wayside. I keep finding myself thinking about this story and I'd like to wrap it up for my own sake. If anyone still wants to follow along, that's cool, but if not just let me know. It's coming up on two years since I started this so I totally understand if you're no longer interested! I've pretty much abandoned Nuzlocke rules at this point, so it's just a plain old work of fiction.
[center][b]Chapter 37: New Magics[/b]
[size=2] @LagMonster @Khoshekh @Tempestuous @starslang @Scyras @excessnight@pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix@RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon @Elzerei @eeeeel @tigressRising @hotdoge@Dragonfang @Whimzica @Soleil @Zexeos @windsway @Neige @KIMJA @rax@PandragonsBox @Silurian @Wolcan @AnnaStar353 @Rhyvendra @TwoJay @Aravis@CoatlPrince @Galaxy99 @Tarajara @tsaarn @Druddigon8 @brianna100@Digimon11 @Espeon5712 @fairyn @Surpirate @HuntingAlpha @Icewing24@AmongTheStars @Fuurin [/size][/center]
Vendari did not dream. Or if she did, she never remembered her dreams. She was deep in an inky black sleep when Cambrian came to wake her, tapping the edge of her massive wing with his forepaw. He apologized in his sibilant voice as she blinked her great lizard-like eyes open, but did not sound sorry at all. “There has been a development that I think may interest you.”
In wordless response, she lumbered to her feet and stretched her wings out as much as the cavern would allow. She’d never felt power like she felt in the Fortress – it was full of ancient magics, slumbering away beneath miles of sea-ice – but this place was not built for dragons of her size. She woke every morning to aching joints and a slurry of whispers in her head.
“Very well,” said Vendari, eventually. “Lead the way.”
They set off, the mirror-king leading them down darkly glittering halls of ice. It took Vendari much longer to get around here than most; her bulk forced her into taking only the largest tunnels, making her routes winding and circuitous. Still, the two of them were ascending toward the surface above, if in fits and starts.
“Based on our earlier conversations, it seems to me,” Cambrian began, as soon as they had left the main thoroughfares behind and were quite alone, “that the obstacle is the sheer [i]amount[/i] of elemental energy needed.”
Vendari gritted her teeth, quelling the magic that swarmed suddenly in her chest. “My liege, there are none alive who can wield the energy I can wield.”
“No, no,” Cambrian said quickly, glancing back at her, “you misunderstand. I don’t doubt your abilities. Not at all. But there are differences between what even an exceptional dragon can do, and, say, what a god can do. It’s preliminary yet, but I believe we may have found a way to make those barriers more gray.”
[i]Can he be saying what I think he is saying?[/i] The imperial almost stopped in her tracks. “Mortals cannot become gods. Their power flows through me only when they will it. To force their hand...that’s impossible. That’s blasphemy.”
“Again, I’m afraid I’m not being clear,” Cambrian replied, his voice soothing. “I’m merely suggesting a way to connect...to [i]commune[/i] with the gods at a higher level. Anyway, I don’t want to say more until you see it for yourself.”
Vendari rolled his words around in her mind. She would wait.
Higher and higher they went; the tunnels grew brighter, changing from deep blue to glittering white, suffused with sunlight from above. Finally the pair turned a corner and the cave opened up before them, spitting them out into the blinding glare of day. Vendari coughed once as her lungs tried to adapt to the frigid air. The cold was shocking – it was cold beneath the ground too, but there at least she was sheltered from the wind. Cambrian waited as she stretched her wings out to their full extent, their bone ornamentation clattering in the wind as she took a moment to savor the feeling of being aboveground.
The Fortress’ ice spires towered above them, soaring jaggedly to impossible heights. It was always as such at the gods’ places of power – the Behemoth, the Pillar, these places existed on such scales to remind mortals of their place. And now the mirror-king spoke of reaching such heights.
She stayed a moment longer, listening to the spires scrape the sky. [i]I mark you, Icewarden. [/i]
“Come,” Cambrian murmured, and she followed. She realized with a sense of distaste that they were making for the ramshackle hide structure referred to as the “laboratory”. The scientific crimes against the gods had originally been performed in one of the deeper ice caves, but that changed when an “accident” rendered several tunnels unusable by filling them with noxious fumes. As far as Vendari was concerned, that had been fortuitous, since it put more distance between her and that obnoxious spiral.
As they neared the structure, an unhealthy sputtering sounded from within, followed by a mechanical hum. “Ha!” someone inside called out triumphantly. “That’s the heater up and running! Now we just have to worry about insulation...which...I think if we’re careful with the—“
Vendari pulled aside part of the laboratory’s hide roof so she could see in; the door was nowhere near imperial-sized, and she was above foolishly snaking her head through its small opening. A clatter of glassware came from below; she looked down to see the spiral gazing up at her in dismay, a shattered beaker at his feet. “Vendari. What a pleasure,” he said, extremely displeased.
She replied in the same tone. “Likewise.” And then: “You ought to get some stronger beakers.”
“Booker. Rosalind,” Cambrian cut in smoothly, entering through the door Vendari had scorned. “I trust all is well.”
“Oh, it was, Camb—my liege,” Booker replied, catching himself. “Ros and I have been pretty busy in here.” There was a movement at the back of the lab; Vendari hadn’t even noticed Rosalind, quietly poring over a notebook at her bench. The nocturne glanced in the newcomers’ direction and gave a nod of greeting before returning to her notes. She painted a sharp contrast to Booker, whose erratic coils seemed a constant risk to the delicate glassware and jars of chemicals.
“You want your bear back?” the spiral called over his shoulder, already making his way over to a bank of steel cages lined up against one wall. Before anyone could respond, he popped one of the latches, and stood back as a mass of green fur rushed out. “Feisty little dude,” Booker commented as he jerked a wing back, narrowly avoiding being bitten. “Nothing wrong with her, as far as I can tell. Been frozen for at least a couple hundred years, but completely, one-hundred-percent alive. Pretty cool, yeah?” He looked from one dragon to another, as if waiting for someone to agree that it was, in fact, “pretty cool.” Vendari thought she saw Rosalind roll her eyes.
“Divine power is indeed incredible,” Vendari said stiffly. Booker opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, Cambrian interjected.
“Never mind the bear,” said the mirror-king. “I want you to show Vendari what you showed me yesterday.”
Booker brightened, his headlamp waving in the air as he nodded. “Yes. Yes. Sure.” He skittered to one of the other cages, peering inside for a moment before carefully unlatching it. Inside, something rustled – and as Vendari watched, a skull-like head emerged from the shadows. “Fool,” she hissed at the hapless zoologist, “get back.”
“No need,” Booker told her, his voice for once absent of condescension. “He’s harmless, more or less.” The spiral did not back away as the permafrost impaler took a plodding step out of the cage, then another; Vendari kept expecting it to lash out, but it simply sat back on its spindly haunches, staring dully at the wall ahead. Rosalind finally abandoned her work, folding her wings primly behind her as she came to inspect the creature.
“Look at the eyes,” the spiral told them, softly. Vendari begrudgingly lowered her head to get a closer look, and almost immediately jerked back. There was something fundamentally [i]wrong,[/i] a substantial nothingness behind the animal’s eyes. They sat like gray marbles in its skull, lacking spark, lacking life. “What in the gods’ names have you [i]done?[/i]”
“Well,” Booker said, animated, already in motion to a hulking machine at the back of the lab. It was intricate but chaotic, held together in places with what looked like duct tape. “You see, every animal alive on Sornieth – as far as we know – has some amount of elemental energy outside the physical processes of their body. Now this is something you could study for, for lifetimes, but what we’ve done here—“
Cambrian coughed politely. “To the point, Booker.”
The dragon visibly wilted. “Ah. Well. Without getting into any of the fascinating parts, we’ve developed a method to separate chemical energy from magical energy. Sort of like nuclear fission, except not nuclear. And not really fission. Bad analogy, maybe. I’m telling you, if I had found [i]this[/i] when I was working on my thesis—“
Another cough.
“Yeah. Anyway. What you see here—“ he gestured to the placid impaler “—is sort of a half-animal. Kind of sad. It’s physically alive, more or less, though I’m predicting it’ll have a significantly shorter lifespan. It can eat, drink, move around, but without the elemental energy...it’s more or less a cellular machine.”
Something roared in the back of Vendari’s head, and before she was aware of what she was doing, her teeth were latched in the spiral’s hood and she had pulled him from the laboratory like a terrier with a rat. “You will bring doom upon us,” she snarled, pinning him against the ice with heavy claws. “The Icewarden blesses his creations with souls, and you dare to rip that away?” Booker didn’t respond; he stared up at her, frozen, pupils dilated with fear behind his thick goggles.
“Vendari,” she heard Cambrian’s voice, from somewhere far away. “Drop the scientist, please.”
Chest heaving, she loomed over him a moment longer before shifting her weight away from her front claws. The spiral wiggled free and took several quick steps away, eyeing her warily.
“Let’s not make hasty judgments,” the mirror continued, coming to stand next to her on the ice. Distantly, she realized a storm was on its way – the winds were beginning to howl as they eddied around the tips of the spires. “Rosalind, come show her, please.”
The nocturne approached them, carrying a small black box she seemed heavy for its size. Very carefully, she set the box down and pried open the lid, gesturing for Vendari to look inside. Shooting one more glare at Booker – which he readily returned – she peered down to see a tiny vial. Its power was evident immediately: it was like a tiny white sun contained in glass, humming with something more vibration than sound. It took her breath away.
“Yes,” Booker called from a safe distance, sounding wounded. “As I was saying before I was [i]attacked,[/i] we have developed a method for extracting and storing elemental energy. It’s unstable once separated, hence the lead box, but...” His voice trailed off into the wind.
“Your thoughts?” Cambrian was peering at her with a guarded intensity. “Do you think this could be useful?”
“Yes,” Vendari breathed; it took her a minute to find the word, absorbed as she was by the glow of power before her. In its light, she felt her old objections melting away. “Oh, yes. I think this would solve our problems nicely.”
A rare smile hovered at the mirror’s lips. “Very well. We have much to discuss. Booker, if I could have a word with Rosalind?”
The spiral nodded, still wary. He gave Vendari a cold nod before heading back towards the laboratory. “Necromancer.”
“Heretic.”
When the spiral was out of sight, Cambrian turned to the nocturne, dropping his voice to a murmur. “And the dragon trials?”
Rosalind frowned, pulling a notepad and pen out of her lab coat to scrawl something. The mirror read it quickly, his face twisting in displeasure. “Very well. Continue as planned, and update me with any results.” The nocturne nodded and took to the air, headed for the roof panel Vendari had removed.
“We have much to discuss,” Cambrian repeated, more to himself than Vendari, as they turned to head back to the shelter of the ice tunnels. She paused for a moment, craning her neck back to see the glittering peaks of the ice spires.
Somehow, they did not seem quite as tall as before.
[i]I mark you, eleven. You have called and I will answer.[/i]
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So um. Lol. A thousand apologies for briefly returning to this only to leave again. I've changed jobs and moved three times in the past few months (the last time about 5,000 miles from where I used to live) so FR kinda fell by the wayside. I keep finding myself thinking about this story and I'd like to wrap it up for my own sake. If anyone still wants to follow along, that's cool, but if not just let me know. It's coming up on two years since I started this so I totally understand if you're no longer interested! I've pretty much abandoned Nuzlocke rules at this point, so it's just a plain old work of fiction.
Vendari did not dream. Or if she did, she never remembered her dreams. She was deep in an inky black sleep when Cambrian came to wake her, tapping the edge of her massive wing with his forepaw. He apologized in his sibilant voice as she blinked her great lizard-like eyes open, but did not sound sorry at all. “There has been a development that I think may interest you.”
In wordless response, she lumbered to her feet and stretched her wings out as much as the cavern would allow. She’d never felt power like she felt in the Fortress – it was full of ancient magics, slumbering away beneath miles of sea-ice – but this place was not built for dragons of her size. She woke every morning to aching joints and a slurry of whispers in her head.
“Very well,” said Vendari, eventually. “Lead the way.”
They set off, the mirror-king leading them down darkly glittering halls of ice. It took Vendari much longer to get around here than most; her bulk forced her into taking only the largest tunnels, making her routes winding and circuitous. Still, the two of them were ascending toward the surface above, if in fits and starts.
“Based on our earlier conversations, it seems to me,” Cambrian began, as soon as they had left the main thoroughfares behind and were quite alone, “that the obstacle is the sheer amount of elemental energy needed.”
Vendari gritted her teeth, quelling the magic that swarmed suddenly in her chest. “My liege, there are none alive who can wield the energy I can wield.”
“No, no,” Cambrian said quickly, glancing back at her, “you misunderstand. I don’t doubt your abilities. Not at all. But there are differences between what even an exceptional dragon can do, and, say, what a god can do. It’s preliminary yet, but I believe we may have found a way to make those barriers more gray.”
Can he be saying what I think he is saying? The imperial almost stopped in her tracks. “Mortals cannot become gods. Their power flows through me only when they will it. To force their hand...that’s impossible. That’s blasphemy.”
“Again, I’m afraid I’m not being clear,” Cambrian replied, his voice soothing. “I’m merely suggesting a way to connect...to commune with the gods at a higher level. Anyway, I don’t want to say more until you see it for yourself.”
Vendari rolled his words around in her mind. She would wait.
Higher and higher they went; the tunnels grew brighter, changing from deep blue to glittering white, suffused with sunlight from above. Finally the pair turned a corner and the cave opened up before them, spitting them out into the blinding glare of day. Vendari coughed once as her lungs tried to adapt to the frigid air. The cold was shocking – it was cold beneath the ground too, but there at least she was sheltered from the wind. Cambrian waited as she stretched her wings out to their full extent, their bone ornamentation clattering in the wind as she took a moment to savor the feeling of being aboveground.
The Fortress’ ice spires towered above them, soaring jaggedly to impossible heights. It was always as such at the gods’ places of power – the Behemoth, the Pillar, these places existed on such scales to remind mortals of their place. And now the mirror-king spoke of reaching such heights.
She stayed a moment longer, listening to the spires scrape the sky. I mark you, Icewarden.
“Come,” Cambrian murmured, and she followed. She realized with a sense of distaste that they were making for the ramshackle hide structure referred to as the “laboratory”. The scientific crimes against the gods had originally been performed in one of the deeper ice caves, but that changed when an “accident” rendered several tunnels unusable by filling them with noxious fumes. As far as Vendari was concerned, that had been fortuitous, since it put more distance between her and that obnoxious spiral.
As they neared the structure, an unhealthy sputtering sounded from within, followed by a mechanical hum. “Ha!” someone inside called out triumphantly. “That’s the heater up and running! Now we just have to worry about insulation...which...I think if we’re careful with the—“
Vendari pulled aside part of the laboratory’s hide roof so she could see in; the door was nowhere near imperial-sized, and she was above foolishly snaking her head through its small opening. A clatter of glassware came from below; she looked down to see the spiral gazing up at her in dismay, a shattered beaker at his feet. “Vendari. What a pleasure,” he said, extremely displeased.
She replied in the same tone. “Likewise.” And then: “You ought to get some stronger beakers.”
“Booker. Rosalind,” Cambrian cut in smoothly, entering through the door Vendari had scorned. “I trust all is well.”
“Oh, it was, Camb—my liege,” Booker replied, catching himself. “Ros and I have been pretty busy in here.” There was a movement at the back of the lab; Vendari hadn’t even noticed Rosalind, quietly poring over a notebook at her bench. The nocturne glanced in the newcomers’ direction and gave a nod of greeting before returning to her notes. She painted a sharp contrast to Booker, whose erratic coils seemed a constant risk to the delicate glassware and jars of chemicals.
“You want your bear back?” the spiral called over his shoulder, already making his way over to a bank of steel cages lined up against one wall. Before anyone could respond, he popped one of the latches, and stood back as a mass of green fur rushed out. “Feisty little dude,” Booker commented as he jerked a wing back, narrowly avoiding being bitten. “Nothing wrong with her, as far as I can tell. Been frozen for at least a couple hundred years, but completely, one-hundred-percent alive. Pretty cool, yeah?” He looked from one dragon to another, as if waiting for someone to agree that it was, in fact, “pretty cool.” Vendari thought she saw Rosalind roll her eyes.
“Divine power is indeed incredible,” Vendari said stiffly. Booker opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, Cambrian interjected.
“Never mind the bear,” said the mirror-king. “I want you to show Vendari what you showed me yesterday.”
Booker brightened, his headlamp waving in the air as he nodded. “Yes. Yes. Sure.” He skittered to one of the other cages, peering inside for a moment before carefully unlatching it. Inside, something rustled – and as Vendari watched, a skull-like head emerged from the shadows. “Fool,” she hissed at the hapless zoologist, “get back.”
“No need,” Booker told her, his voice for once absent of condescension. “He’s harmless, more or less.” The spiral did not back away as the permafrost impaler took a plodding step out of the cage, then another; Vendari kept expecting it to lash out, but it simply sat back on its spindly haunches, staring dully at the wall ahead. Rosalind finally abandoned her work, folding her wings primly behind her as she came to inspect the creature.
“Look at the eyes,” the spiral told them, softly. Vendari begrudgingly lowered her head to get a closer look, and almost immediately jerked back. There was something fundamentally wrong, a substantial nothingness behind the animal’s eyes. They sat like gray marbles in its skull, lacking spark, lacking life. “What in the gods’ names have you done?”
“Well,” Booker said, animated, already in motion to a hulking machine at the back of the lab. It was intricate but chaotic, held together in places with what looked like duct tape. “You see, every animal alive on Sornieth – as far as we know – has some amount of elemental energy outside the physical processes of their body. Now this is something you could study for, for lifetimes, but what we’ve done here—“
Cambrian coughed politely. “To the point, Booker.”
The dragon visibly wilted. “Ah. Well. Without getting into any of the fascinating parts, we’ve developed a method to separate chemical energy from magical energy. Sort of like nuclear fission, except not nuclear. And not really fission. Bad analogy, maybe. I’m telling you, if I had found this when I was working on my thesis—“
Another cough.
“Yeah. Anyway. What you see here—“ he gestured to the placid impaler “—is sort of a half-animal. Kind of sad. It’s physically alive, more or less, though I’m predicting it’ll have a significantly shorter lifespan. It can eat, drink, move around, but without the elemental energy...it’s more or less a cellular machine.”
Something roared in the back of Vendari’s head, and before she was aware of what she was doing, her teeth were latched in the spiral’s hood and she had pulled him from the laboratory like a terrier with a rat. “You will bring doom upon us,” she snarled, pinning him against the ice with heavy claws. “The Icewarden blesses his creations with souls, and you dare to rip that away?” Booker didn’t respond; he stared up at her, frozen, pupils dilated with fear behind his thick goggles.
“Vendari,” she heard Cambrian’s voice, from somewhere far away. “Drop the scientist, please.”
Chest heaving, she loomed over him a moment longer before shifting her weight away from her front claws. The spiral wiggled free and took several quick steps away, eyeing her warily.
“Let’s not make hasty judgments,” the mirror continued, coming to stand next to her on the ice. Distantly, she realized a storm was on its way – the winds were beginning to howl as they eddied around the tips of the spires. “Rosalind, come show her, please.”
The nocturne approached them, carrying a small black box she seemed heavy for its size. Very carefully, she set the box down and pried open the lid, gesturing for Vendari to look inside. Shooting one more glare at Booker – which he readily returned – she peered down to see a tiny vial. Its power was evident immediately: it was like a tiny white sun contained in glass, humming with something more vibration than sound. It took her breath away.
“Yes,” Booker called from a safe distance, sounding wounded. “As I was saying before I was attacked, we have developed a method for extracting and storing elemental energy. It’s unstable once separated, hence the lead box, but...” His voice trailed off into the wind.
“Your thoughts?” Cambrian was peering at her with a guarded intensity. “Do you think this could be useful?”
“Yes,” Vendari breathed; it took her a minute to find the word, absorbed as she was by the glow of power before her. In its light, she felt her old objections melting away. “Oh, yes. I think this would solve our problems nicely.”
A rare smile hovered at the mirror’s lips. “Very well. We have much to discuss. Booker, if I could have a word with Rosalind?”
The spiral nodded, still wary. He gave Vendari a cold nod before heading back towards the laboratory. “Necromancer.”
“Heretic.”
When the spiral was out of sight, Cambrian turned to the nocturne, dropping his voice to a murmur. “And the dragon trials?”
Rosalind frowned, pulling a notepad and pen out of her lab coat to scrawl something. The mirror read it quickly, his face twisting in displeasure. “Very well. Continue as planned, and update me with any results.” The nocturne nodded and took to the air, headed for the roof panel Vendari had removed.
“We have much to discuss,” Cambrian repeated, more to himself than Vendari, as they turned to head back to the shelter of the ice tunnels. She paused for a moment, craning her neck back to see the glittering peaks of the ice spires.
Somehow, they did not seem quite as tall as before.
I mark you, eleven. You have called and I will answer.
Chapter 37: New Magics
@LagMonster @Khoshekh @Tempestuous @starslang @Scyras @excessnight@pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix@RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon @Elzerei @eeeeel @tigressRising @hotdoge@Dragonfang @Whimzica @Soleil @Zexeos @windsway @Neige @KIMJA @rax@PandragonsBox @Silurian @Wolcan @AnnaStar353 @Rhyvendra @TwoJay @Aravis@CoatlPrince @Galaxy99 @Tarajara @tsaarn @Druddigon8 @brianna100@Digimon11 @Espeon5712 @fairyn @Surpirate @HuntingAlpha @Icewing24@AmongTheStars @Fuurin
@LagMonster @Khoshekh @Tempestuous @starslang @Scyras @excessnight@pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix@RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon @Elzerei @eeeeel @tigressRising @hotdoge@Dragonfang @Whimzica @Soleil @Zexeos @windsway @Neige @KIMJA @rax@PandragonsBox @Silurian @Wolcan @AnnaStar353 @Rhyvendra @TwoJay @Aravis@CoatlPrince @Galaxy99 @Tarajara @tsaarn @Druddigon8 @brianna100@Digimon11 @Espeon5712 @fairyn @Surpirate @HuntingAlpha @Icewing24@AmongTheStars @Fuurin
Vendari did not dream. Or if she did, she never remembered her dreams. She was deep in an inky black sleep when Cambrian came to wake her, tapping the edge of her massive wing with his forepaw. He apologized in his sibilant voice as she blinked her great lizard-like eyes open, but did not sound sorry at all. “There has been a development that I think may interest you.”
In wordless response, she lumbered to her feet and stretched her wings out as much as the cavern would allow. She’d never felt power like she felt in the Fortress – it was full of ancient magics, slumbering away beneath miles of sea-ice – but this place was not built for dragons of her size. She woke every morning to aching joints and a slurry of whispers in her head.
“Very well,” said Vendari, eventually. “Lead the way.”
They set off, the mirror-king leading them down darkly glittering halls of ice. It took Vendari much longer to get around here than most; her bulk forced her into taking only the largest tunnels, making her routes winding and circuitous. Still, the two of them were ascending toward the surface above, if in fits and starts.
“Based on our earlier conversations, it seems to me,” Cambrian began, as soon as they had left the main thoroughfares behind and were quite alone, “that the obstacle is the sheer amount of elemental energy needed.”
Vendari gritted her teeth, quelling the magic that swarmed suddenly in her chest. “My liege, there are none alive who can wield the energy I can wield.”
“No, no,” Cambrian said quickly, glancing back at her, “you misunderstand. I don’t doubt your abilities. Not at all. But there are differences between what even an exceptional dragon can do, and, say, what a god can do. It’s preliminary yet, but I believe we may have found a way to make those barriers more gray.”
Can he be saying what I think he is saying? The imperial almost stopped in her tracks. “Mortals cannot become gods. Their power flows through me only when they will it. To force their hand...that’s impossible. That’s blasphemy.”
“Again, I’m afraid I’m not being clear,” Cambrian replied, his voice soothing. “I’m merely suggesting a way to connect...to commune with the gods at a higher level. Anyway, I don’t want to say more until you see it for yourself.”
Vendari rolled his words around in her mind. She would wait.
Higher and higher they went; the tunnels grew brighter, changing from deep blue to glittering white, suffused with sunlight from above. Finally the pair turned a corner and the cave opened up before them, spitting them out into the blinding glare of day. Vendari coughed once as her lungs tried to adapt to the frigid air. The cold was shocking – it was cold beneath the ground too, but there at least she was sheltered from the wind. Cambrian waited as she stretched her wings out to their full extent, their bone ornamentation clattering in the wind as she took a moment to savor the feeling of being aboveground.
The Fortress’ ice spires towered above them, soaring jaggedly to impossible heights. It was always as such at the gods’ places of power – the Behemoth, the Pillar, these places existed on such scales to remind mortals of their place. And now the mirror-king spoke of reaching such heights.
She stayed a moment longer, listening to the spires scrape the sky. I mark you, Icewarden.
“Come,” Cambrian murmured, and she followed. She realized with a sense of distaste that they were making for the ramshackle hide structure referred to as the “laboratory”. The scientific crimes against the gods had originally been performed in one of the deeper ice caves, but that changed when an “accident” rendered several tunnels unusable by filling them with noxious fumes. As far as Vendari was concerned, that had been fortuitous, since it put more distance between her and that obnoxious spiral.
As they neared the structure, an unhealthy sputtering sounded from within, followed by a mechanical hum. “Ha!” someone inside called out triumphantly. “That’s the heater up and running! Now we just have to worry about insulation...which...I think if we’re careful with the—“
Vendari pulled aside part of the laboratory’s hide roof so she could see in; the door was nowhere near imperial-sized, and she was above foolishly snaking her head through its small opening. A clatter of glassware came from below; she looked down to see the spiral gazing up at her in dismay, a shattered beaker at his feet. “Vendari. What a pleasure,” he said, extremely displeased.
She replied in the same tone. “Likewise.” And then: “You ought to get some stronger beakers.”
“Booker. Rosalind,” Cambrian cut in smoothly, entering through the door Vendari had scorned. “I trust all is well.”
“Oh, it was, Camb—my liege,” Booker replied, catching himself. “Ros and I have been pretty busy in here.” There was a movement at the back of the lab; Vendari hadn’t even noticed Rosalind, quietly poring over a notebook at her bench. The nocturne glanced in the newcomers’ direction and gave a nod of greeting before returning to her notes. She painted a sharp contrast to Booker, whose erratic coils seemed a constant risk to the delicate glassware and jars of chemicals.
“You want your bear back?” the spiral called over his shoulder, already making his way over to a bank of steel cages lined up against one wall. Before anyone could respond, he popped one of the latches, and stood back as a mass of green fur rushed out. “Feisty little dude,” Booker commented as he jerked a wing back, narrowly avoiding being bitten. “Nothing wrong with her, as far as I can tell. Been frozen for at least a couple hundred years, but completely, one-hundred-percent alive. Pretty cool, yeah?” He looked from one dragon to another, as if waiting for someone to agree that it was, in fact, “pretty cool.” Vendari thought she saw Rosalind roll her eyes.
“Divine power is indeed incredible,” Vendari said stiffly. Booker opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, Cambrian interjected.
“Never mind the bear,” said the mirror-king. “I want you to show Vendari what you showed me yesterday.”
Booker brightened, his headlamp waving in the air as he nodded. “Yes. Yes. Sure.” He skittered to one of the other cages, peering inside for a moment before carefully unlatching it. Inside, something rustled – and as Vendari watched, a skull-like head emerged from the shadows. “Fool,” she hissed at the hapless zoologist, “get back.”
“No need,” Booker told her, his voice for once absent of condescension. “He’s harmless, more or less.” The spiral did not back away as the permafrost impaler took a plodding step out of the cage, then another; Vendari kept expecting it to lash out, but it simply sat back on its spindly haunches, staring dully at the wall ahead. Rosalind finally abandoned her work, folding her wings primly behind her as she came to inspect the creature.
“Look at the eyes,” the spiral told them, softly. Vendari begrudgingly lowered her head to get a closer look, and almost immediately jerked back. There was something fundamentally wrong, a substantial nothingness behind the animal’s eyes. They sat like gray marbles in its skull, lacking spark, lacking life. “What in the gods’ names have you done?”
“Well,” Booker said, animated, already in motion to a hulking machine at the back of the lab. It was intricate but chaotic, held together in places with what looked like duct tape. “You see, every animal alive on Sornieth – as far as we know – has some amount of elemental energy outside the physical processes of their body. Now this is something you could study for, for lifetimes, but what we’ve done here—“
Cambrian coughed politely. “To the point, Booker.”
The dragon visibly wilted. “Ah. Well. Without getting into any of the fascinating parts, we’ve developed a method to separate chemical energy from magical energy. Sort of like nuclear fission, except not nuclear. And not really fission. Bad analogy, maybe. I’m telling you, if I had found this when I was working on my thesis—“
Another cough.
“Yeah. Anyway. What you see here—“ he gestured to the placid impaler “—is sort of a half-animal. Kind of sad. It’s physically alive, more or less, though I’m predicting it’ll have a significantly shorter lifespan. It can eat, drink, move around, but without the elemental energy...it’s more or less a cellular machine.”
Something roared in the back of Vendari’s head, and before she was aware of what she was doing, her teeth were latched in the spiral’s hood and she had pulled him from the laboratory like a terrier with a rat. “You will bring doom upon us,” she snarled, pinning him against the ice with heavy claws. “The Icewarden blesses his creations with souls, and you dare to rip that away?” Booker didn’t respond; he stared up at her, frozen, pupils dilated with fear behind his thick goggles.
“Vendari,” she heard Cambrian’s voice, from somewhere far away. “Drop the scientist, please.”
Chest heaving, she loomed over him a moment longer before shifting her weight away from her front claws. The spiral wiggled free and took several quick steps away, eyeing her warily.
“Let’s not make hasty judgments,” the mirror continued, coming to stand next to her on the ice. Distantly, she realized a storm was on its way – the winds were beginning to howl as they eddied around the tips of the spires. “Rosalind, come show her, please.”
The nocturne approached them, carrying a small black box she seemed heavy for its size. Very carefully, she set the box down and pried open the lid, gesturing for Vendari to look inside. Shooting one more glare at Booker – which he readily returned – she peered down to see a tiny vial. Its power was evident immediately: it was like a tiny white sun contained in glass, humming with something more vibration than sound. It took her breath away.
“Yes,” Booker called from a safe distance, sounding wounded. “As I was saying before I was attacked, we have developed a method for extracting and storing elemental energy. It’s unstable once separated, hence the lead box, but...” His voice trailed off into the wind.
“Your thoughts?” Cambrian was peering at her with a guarded intensity. “Do you think this could be useful?”
“Yes,” Vendari breathed; it took her a minute to find the word, absorbed as she was by the glow of power before her. In its light, she felt her old objections melting away. “Oh, yes. I think this would solve our problems nicely.”
A rare smile hovered at the mirror’s lips. “Very well. We have much to discuss. Booker, if I could have a word with Rosalind?”
The spiral nodded, still wary. He gave Vendari a cold nod before heading back towards the laboratory. “Necromancer.”
“Heretic.”
When the spiral was out of sight, Cambrian turned to the nocturne, dropping his voice to a murmur. “And the dragon trials?”
Rosalind frowned, pulling a notepad and pen out of her lab coat to scrawl something. The mirror read it quickly, his face twisting in displeasure. “Very well. Continue as planned, and update me with any results.” The nocturne nodded and took to the air, headed for the roof panel Vendari had removed.
“We have much to discuss,” Cambrian repeated, more to himself than Vendari, as they turned to head back to the shelter of the ice tunnels. She paused for a moment, craning her neck back to see the glittering peaks of the ice spires.
Somehow, they did not seem quite as tall as before.
I mark you, eleven. You have called and I will answer.
