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[columns][center][item=vial of mysterious toxin][/center][nextcol][color=transparent]..[/color][nextcol][color=#E8AF49][font=garamond][size=7][size=4][b]erosion[/b][/size][/size][/font][/color]
[size=2]written by Disillusionist
special thanks to awaicu
[color=#9494A9]3,097 words[/color][/size][/columns]
[color=#2F0003]The years of Leannan’s slumber were long, but they were dreamless. Deep in her enchanted prison, there was only darkness and silence. There should have been peace as well — but no matter how restful her sleep was, it couldn’t purge her hate. Her hatred for [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49449251]Khonsu[/url] filled every fiber of her being — and so when the spell wore off, she awakened with the desire for revenge still fresh in her fiery heart.
A new era...and a new life. As Leannan burst free of the spell, she looked down and saw a land much changed. In that instant, she understood many centuries had passed; the Clan of the Lunar Serpent had dissolved, and in its place were lairs and boundaries she didn’t recognize. They didn’t concern her, however — she was looking for Khonsu. Where had her jailer gone? What had weakened the spell?
The confrontation returned to her mind, and she smiled grimly. Of course — she had wounded Khonsu grievously; perhaps his bindings had not been as strong as they should have been. She remembered his agonized screams, his face and pearl distorting in the fire. The sight had originally sickened her, but now she relished the memory.
Yet he was still out there; she could [i]feel[/i] it. She couldn’t pinpoint where he was, but she would find him all the same. First, however, she needed to equip herself for their confrontation. Only once her revenge was complete would she move on from this world.[/color]
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[color=#2F0003]Leannan considered many different plans, but the one she settled on required powerful magic, spells that were beyond the grasp of these feeble, mortal drakes. She moved from place to place, but she had learned her lesson; now she was discreet, staying just long enough to feed on various inconsequential squabbles before moving on. They were a far cry from the feasts she’d had before, but the rage inside her burned hotter still, erasing most of her hunger.
It was during these travels that Leannan learned of a strange cathedral in the Light-touched lands. Strange lairs were numerous in Sornieth, but this one caught her attention, for it was said that the Cathedral was ruled by a fairy king and queen.
“Truly? Tell me more,” she murmured. She had not forgotten her own fey origins, and she would have no dealings with Khonsu’s kind: spirits or half-breeds. Perhaps her fellow fairies would have the magic she needed.
Her quest for the Cathedral was long. It was protected by myriad enchantments, but one bleak afternoon, she spied its towering spires in the distance, perched precariously on a seaside cliff. As she glided onward, the haze cleared, and now she could also make out a dark tree, impossibly vast, reaching up into the very clouds.
The [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=13929292]Imperial[/url] who answered the door was normally terrifying to visitors, but Leannan was too angry, too haughty, to fear him. She drew herself up and demanded to know if this was the Cathedral of Eyes.
The Imperial was not impressed. He bent closer, cold air blasting from his nostrils. His fangs, gleaming along his jaws, were wreathed with thorns as long and sharp as swords.
“You reek of strange magic and bear no invitation. How came you to this place?”
“The wyrms told me I would find it by the sea.” Leannan’s eyes bored defiantly into his. “I followed the coast and soon espied the spires and the tree.”
The Imperial growled, low and displeased. His tail cracked like a whip, rattling the windows and doors behind him.
“If that is so, then this place has revealed itself to you. Or rather,” and his ears flattened, “its rulers have chosen to reveal it to you.”
“The King and Queen of Faerie?” Leannan asked shrewdly. And then, for the first time in years, she felt a twinge of fear as the Imperial let out a sardonic laugh.
“Fortunate are you indeed, to have been granted entrance to this place.” His bow was mocking, and as Leannan moved past him, he added, “Let us hope you will also be fortunate enough to leave.”[/color]
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[color=#2F0003]The inside of the Cathedral was one of dazzling opulence, and even the jaded Leannan found herself wide-eyed at seeing such riches. She moved through rooms of mirrors, of colored glass and gems, rooms seemingly carved from solid gold or pure, unbroken marble. Through the windows, she glimpsed strange sights: here a garden in afternoon splendor, and there one drowned in deepest night. The deeper into the Cathedral she moved, the stranger the sights became, until she stepped into a ballroom delicately wrought of ice and all sound dropped away.
There was no door at the end. Leannan blinked, and suddenly there were two splendid Imperials before her, seemingly having melted out of the ice.
“Sit,” said the female, and then there was a bed behind the Pearlcatcher. She sprawled upon it, doing her best to remain dignified, but also fighting back her unease.
The [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=28538193]King[/url] and [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=28761217]Queen[/url] of Faerie were as beautiful and as cold as winter. Their silks and jewels moved in a phantom breeze, sending soft tinkling sounds rippling around the room. Leannan briefly glimpsed shapes inside the ice, paws pressed against the surface and wide, frightened eyes...
“We welcome you to our Cathedral. It is rare for us to receive visitors from among the Fair Folk, as we are,” said Queen Titania with a perfect, radiant smile. Leannan bowed low, thoroughly cowed by her beauty.
“I thank you for granting me an audience, Fair Queen. It is...a relief to meet others like myself.” Leannan took a deep breath. “I have been imprisoned in this foul land for many years. A filthy half-breed, spawned by a lunar spirit, has—”
“Your pitiful grievances are none of our concern,” boomed King Oberon, and his voice was like icebergs crashing into a turbulent sea. Leannan cowered again.
Above her head, Titania tut-tutted gently. “Now, my King, I am sure all this means something to her. It [i]ought[/i] to.” There was just the tiniest edge to the Queen’s voice. It pressed against Leannan like a knife against her throat as Titania continued, “But perhaps you should let us know why you have sought us out?”
Leannan prostrated herself. “Noble King and Queen, I crave your indulgence. I would beg just a tiny bit of your great magic—”
“[i]Our magic![/i]” Oberon roared, outraged. Icicles cascaded from the ceiling, shattering around Leannan like bombs. She pressed her face against the floor, trying to ignore the ice showering against her wings and back.
“Aye, sire, for so puissant are you that even the tiniest drop of your magic would spell doom for the one who wronged me. Please, I...” And here eloquence failed Leannan, and she whispered, “Can you help me?”
Titania’s laugh rang through the ballroom, drowning out Oberon’s rage. The laughter went on for a terribly long time, and when it died away, she declared, “What lovely words you speak! But our duties are to our Cathedral and...all who dwell within.” A strange expression, some sort of internal struggle, moved briefly over the King’s and Queen’s faces — but Leannan didn’t see it, and quickly it was gone. Titania continued, “Perhaps, however, you can persuade us to direct you to one who may help?”
For this, Leannan was prepared. She held out one paw. “Noble King and Queen, in return for your gracious favor, I offer you love.”
“Love?!” Their incredulity was unanimous, and now fury blazed in those cold, clear eyes. Frantically, Leannan concentrated. Fiery light swirled around her outstretched paw — and then suddenly she was holding a crystal bottle filled with deep, dark red liquid.
“What’s this?” Oberon growled. The bottle rose up, plucked from Leannan’s grasp, to hover in front of his face. It was so tiny that it was to him as a speck of dust was to Leannan.
But the King and Queen could feel the power it held, and Leannan explained, “Not for you, but to use against other beings.” She sucked in a deep breath and declared, with some of her old arrogance, “I have spent many years harvesting the deepest ardor and passion, distilling it into the essence you now see. It is a most useful weapon....I know its effects well.”
“Oh, I think you do,” said Titania, her tone sly and mocking. It raised memories from deep inside Leannan, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She had no doubt that the King and Queen could see right through her, and were contemptuously examining the grievances she bore.
“Pure passion, twisted into something blinding and enraging...This may amuse us yet,” Titania purred. And at last, an ice panel behind her shimmered, showing a barren brown landscape beyond.
“The one who may help you dwells deep within the earth. Now begone from this place,” and Titania bared her fangs, “ere your simpering bores us.”
Beside her, Oberon closed a vast paw around the vial. Leannan ran from them, hurling herself through the portal, and she found herself among the mountains of Dragonhome.[/color]
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[color=#2F0003]The barren mountains were littered with caves and crevices, and Leannan wandered among them for a time. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for — and then one day, she stopped, looking at an unremarkable cave that led deep beneath the earth.
[i]“Come,”[/i] it seemed to tell her — and so she did, heading down into the darkness.
She could not be sure how long she traveled. She could feel time passing, but couldn’t say how much, for the darkness around her was total. Still she walked on, following some strange instinct. And then days, perhaps even months later, she saw a faint glow at the end of the tunnel.
Leannan emerged into a vast cavern. Precious gems and metals gleamed within its walls — what little she could see of them anyway, for the cavern was thickly festooned with plants, the likes of which she’d never seen before. Their roots mingled with the precious veins spidering across the walls; sprays of blue and pearly leaves hung over her head. There were fruits like globes of glass, fruits like clusters of stars...
But there were no scents, and there was barely any sound: no birdsong, no insects. There was only the faintest of rustles, and Leannan squinted through the strange, cloudy light that pervaded the cavern.
There was a small dragon: a Fae flitting around the flowers and trees. Leannan almost called out to him, but something stopped her: the sense that she was in grave danger, that something was terribly wrong.
So she stood there instead, waiting for the Fae to complete his work. At last he pivoted in midair and then approached, hovering before her.
“You have come to the Garden of [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=60368767]Dwerulas[/url].”
“King Oberon and Queen Titania sent me here. They said you could aid me with...a problem.” Leannan’s words, again, were faltering. The Fae was beautifully garbed in purple and silver, with a crown upon his head. He seemed fragile, but there was power in that tiny frame, and it extended beyond him and deep into the walls of the cavern itself. Like all Faes, his voice was a monotone — but his face was perfectly expressionless, and his frills moved not at all.
“Speak, and I will judge.”
“I wish to procure a weapon. Or a potion, a spell...something strong enough to slay a half-breed sired by a lunar spirit.” A spark leaped into Leannan’s eyes. “I wish for his death to be slow, and for it to be racked by agony — the same agony he visited upon me, before he sealed me into the ground.”
“Sevenfold agony. Sevenfold revenge. What will you give me, dragoness?”
As she had with the Faerie King and Queen, Leannan conjured a vial of ardor. She was about to explain, but Dwerulas plucked it from her claws without further question. When next he opened his paw, it was gone.
He motioned for her to follow him to a hollow in the wall. It seemed no different from the rest of the cavern, except it was thickly festooned with roots and vines. Leannan tried to see where they were coming from, but their sources were hidden in the foliage.
Dwerulas gestured, like a conductor to an orchestra, and Leannan found herself turning, backing into the alcove. It was actually warm, though the vines draped unnervingly against her skin. She asked the Fae, “What happens now?”
Dwerulas recited,
[i]“Now fall into ensorcelled sleep
In earthen deep, in earthen deep
The garden draws from deep within
The poison of your rage, your sin
Petals part upon a flower
A heart, a life it will devour
Let its ambrosia be your boon
Against the spawn of drake and moon”[/i]
As he spoke, the vines moved, stealthily wrapping around Leannan. They didn’t squeeze, but she could feel how strong they were. She looked warily at Dwerulas, who continued to stare, unmoving and unblinking.
“So I am to sleep, am I? And you will use my...memories, I presume...to create this weapon. When will I awaken?” And this Leannan said nervously, for she had only just now noticed that the ends of each root were shaped like paws, dragons’ claws tentatively plucking at her skin.
“Soon,” Dwerulas answered curtly, “when the flowers bloom.”
“When the...flowers...?”
The vines were moving visibly now. More and more of them cascaded over the front of the alcove, forming a curtain that hid Leannan from view. She was aware now that other vines were binding her to the earth — would she be imprisoned again? — and then she saw Dwerulas’ flat, merciless gaze and she held her tongue.
[i]“For revenge,”[/i] she reminded herself. She shut her eyes, and once again she was atop the windswept hill, the venom of an iron dagger coursing through her wings and her beloved’s accusations shattering her heart. Her fear ebbed. She would be calm.
She would allow herself to be pulled back into the darkness — for revenge.[/color]
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[color=#2F0003]The spell Khonsu had cast upon Leannan had only been meant to bind her. And so there had been no dreams for her — but Dwerulas’ spell was different.
This time, she dreamed: veiled faces, grinning masks, and silver light that burned...She felt the wind rush past her, iron stinging her hide. Khonsu’s face glared at her, even as the accursed moon fed him its power. Again and again she relived the sickening sight of his face twisting as it burned.
And as Dwerulas had decreed, the enchanted vines lapped up Leannan’s rage till they, too, quivered with the same bitter anger. Outside the hollow, Dwerulas continued to work. He tended his garden, harvesting fruits and nectar, and then one day he pushed some leaves aside and saw a fiery flower—
Leannan awoke with a start. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and when she did, she was suddenly conscious of the vines still wrapped around her. They were as hard as stone....They [i]were[/i] stone. How long had she been...?
Suddenly frightened, she struggled, crying out in shock as the petrified vines shattered around her. She burst through the brittle curtain — and stared, dumbfounded, at the great cavern.
Dwerulas was gone and with him, his garden. The cavern was now utterly barren, with not even the faintest glint of wealth, the faintest trace of foliage upon the walls. Even the vines around Leannan’s feet were rapidly crumbling into dust. She stumbled forward in consternation; the garden had totally vanished...
No, not totally. As she turned, she noticed a faint, sharp gleam. There, on the other side of the cavern — a twisted mass that looked like more petrified vines.
Leannan approached the husk. As she pressed her claws against it, the vines crumbled — and something dropped onto her outstretched palm. It was another glass vial, much smaller than the one she’d given Dwerulas, and it held a fiery orange syrup. Only a few drops’ worth — but still Leannan regarded it with trepidation, for like the taciturn Fae, this small object held a terrifyingly huge amount of power.
[i]“And is it not fitting?”[/i] she asked herself. [i]“One drop to extinguish an existence...just as it took one ardent look, one careless rumor, to destroy somebody’s life...”[/i]
Whatever his faults, the Lord of the Dark Garden had at least upheld his end of the deal. Leannan turned to go.
Now that she had her weapon, she considered the next steps of her plan. She would find that treacherous half-breed, inflict the curse upon him. She didn’t know where to start looking, but she didn’t doubt that she would find him; she had found the Cathedral of Eyes and Dwerulas’ Dark Garden, after all.
Soon she was at the surface. It seemed as though dawn wouldn’t break for some hours yet. Leannan turned, trying to orient herself...
And she stopped, her blood suddenly running cold. [i]“Danger. Here,”[/i] her intuition whispered, as the shadows of a distant rock spire began to swell and shift.
Wings parting, faint pulses of light. [i]Candles[/i], quickly extinguished. Golden chains rattled against an inky hide, and from the many-horned head, a voice—
[i]“Leannan. Fairy lover, deceiver...[/i]destroyer.”
The shape took one step forward, then another, another. Despite its vast size, its feet made no sound upon the earth.
[i]“To the plains of Heliotrope you came, and thence to the hills of Ereblight,”[/i] the shape breathed, its voice whispering like satin. A sash of silk and satin, strangling Leannan’s throat... [i]“With lust and lies you broke promises, you shattered sacred vows.”[/i]
“Who are you?” Leannan gasped. “What are...?”
And then the names [i]Heliotrope[/i] and [i]Ereblight[/i] ignited the fires of memory. Now she fancied she could make out more details upon the [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=29764440]shape[/url]: satin and lace, as though from fine garments; rings upon her claws. Wedding rings?
[i]Dawn.[/i] And as the faintest glint of sunlight pierced the east, Leannan was shaken from her reverie. She leaped skywards, her scarlet wings billowing around her, hoping that the light of day would repel this vengeful shade.
It would — but only until night fell again. Then it would close the gap between itself and Leannan, and the chase would continue until one of them fell — or was lost.
And so Leannan fled across the desert. She had no doubt that this spirit would follow — but let it follow, for now she had her weapon in her grasp. Perhaps, indeed, this spirit would eventually catch her—
[i]“But not”,[/i] she vowed fiercely, [i]“before I have my revenge.”[/i][/color]
[right][font=Copperplate Gothic Light][color=#E8AF49][size=5][b]continued[/b][/color][/size][/font] [b][size=5][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/63#post_43786081]»[/url][/b][/size][/right]
[size=2][color=#9494A9][b]Credits:[/b] Special thanks to [i]awaicu[/i] for allowing her characters and lair to be featured here.[/color][/size]
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erosion
written by Disillusionist
special thanks to awaicu
3,097 words
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The years of Leannan’s slumber were long, but they were dreamless. Deep in her enchanted prison, there was only darkness and silence. There should have been peace as well — but no matter how restful her sleep was, it couldn’t purge her hate. Her hatred for Khonsu filled every fiber of her being — and so when the spell wore off, she awakened with the desire for revenge still fresh in her fiery heart.
A new era...and a new life. As Leannan burst free of the spell, she looked down and saw a land much changed. In that instant, she understood many centuries had passed; the Clan of the Lunar Serpent had dissolved, and in its place were lairs and boundaries she didn’t recognize. They didn’t concern her, however — she was looking for Khonsu. Where had her jailer gone? What had weakened the spell?
The confrontation returned to her mind, and she smiled grimly. Of course — she had wounded Khonsu grievously; perhaps his bindings had not been as strong as they should have been. She remembered his agonized screams, his face and pearl distorting in the fire. The sight had originally sickened her, but now she relished the memory.
Yet he was still out there; she could feel it. She couldn’t pinpoint where he was, but she would find him all the same. First, however, she needed to equip herself for their confrontation. Only once her revenge was complete would she move on from this world.
Leannan considered many different plans, but the one she settled on required powerful magic, spells that were beyond the grasp of these feeble, mortal drakes. She moved from place to place, but she had learned her lesson; now she was discreet, staying just long enough to feed on various inconsequential squabbles before moving on. They were a far cry from the feasts she’d had before, but the rage inside her burned hotter still, erasing most of her hunger.
It was during these travels that Leannan learned of a strange cathedral in the Light-touched lands. Strange lairs were numerous in Sornieth, but this one caught her attention, for it was said that the Cathedral was ruled by a fairy king and queen.
“Truly? Tell me more,” she murmured. She had not forgotten her own fey origins, and she would have no dealings with Khonsu’s kind: spirits or half-breeds. Perhaps her fellow fairies would have the magic she needed.
Her quest for the Cathedral was long. It was protected by myriad enchantments, but one bleak afternoon, she spied its towering spires in the distance, perched precariously on a seaside cliff. As she glided onward, the haze cleared, and now she could also make out a dark tree, impossibly vast, reaching up into the very clouds.
The Imperial who answered the door was normally terrifying to visitors, but Leannan was too angry, too haughty, to fear him. She drew herself up and demanded to know if this was the Cathedral of Eyes.
The Imperial was not impressed. He bent closer, cold air blasting from his nostrils. His fangs, gleaming along his jaws, were wreathed with thorns as long and sharp as swords.
“You reek of strange magic and bear no invitation. How came you to this place?”
“The wyrms told me I would find it by the sea.” Leannan’s eyes bored defiantly into his. “I followed the coast and soon espied the spires and the tree.”
The Imperial growled, low and displeased. His tail cracked like a whip, rattling the windows and doors behind him.
“If that is so, then this place has revealed itself to you. Or rather,” and his ears flattened, “its rulers have chosen to reveal it to you.”
“The King and Queen of Faerie?” Leannan asked shrewdly. And then, for the first time in years, she felt a twinge of fear as the Imperial let out a sardonic laugh.
“Fortunate are you indeed, to have been granted entrance to this place.” His bow was mocking, and as Leannan moved past him, he added, “Let us hope you will also be fortunate enough to leave.”
The inside of the Cathedral was one of dazzling opulence, and even the jaded Leannan found herself wide-eyed at seeing such riches. She moved through rooms of mirrors, of colored glass and gems, rooms seemingly carved from solid gold or pure, unbroken marble. Through the windows, she glimpsed strange sights: here a garden in afternoon splendor, and there one drowned in deepest night. The deeper into the Cathedral she moved, the stranger the sights became, until she stepped into a ballroom delicately wrought of ice and all sound dropped away.
There was no door at the end. Leannan blinked, and suddenly there were two splendid Imperials before her, seemingly having melted out of the ice.
“Sit,” said the female, and then there was a bed behind the Pearlcatcher. She sprawled upon it, doing her best to remain dignified, but also fighting back her unease.
The King and Queen of Faerie were as beautiful and as cold as winter. Their silks and jewels moved in a phantom breeze, sending soft tinkling sounds rippling around the room. Leannan briefly glimpsed shapes inside the ice, paws pressed against the surface and wide, frightened eyes...
“We welcome you to our Cathedral. It is rare for us to receive visitors from among the Fair Folk, as we are,” said Queen Titania with a perfect, radiant smile. Leannan bowed low, thoroughly cowed by her beauty.
“I thank you for granting me an audience, Fair Queen. It is...a relief to meet others like myself.” Leannan took a deep breath. “I have been imprisoned in this foul land for many years. A filthy half-breed, spawned by a lunar spirit, has—”
“Your pitiful grievances are none of our concern,” boomed King Oberon, and his voice was like icebergs crashing into a turbulent sea. Leannan cowered again.
Above her head, Titania tut-tutted gently. “Now, my King, I am sure all this means something to her. It ought to.” There was just the tiniest edge to the Queen’s voice. It pressed against Leannan like a knife against her throat as Titania continued, “But perhaps you should let us know why you have sought us out?”
Leannan prostrated herself. “Noble King and Queen, I crave your indulgence. I would beg just a tiny bit of your great magic—”
“Our magic!” Oberon roared, outraged. Icicles cascaded from the ceiling, shattering around Leannan like bombs. She pressed her face against the floor, trying to ignore the ice showering against her wings and back.
“Aye, sire, for so puissant are you that even the tiniest drop of your magic would spell doom for the one who wronged me. Please, I...” And here eloquence failed Leannan, and she whispered, “Can you help me?”
Titania’s laugh rang through the ballroom, drowning out Oberon’s rage. The laughter went on for a terribly long time, and when it died away, she declared, “What lovely words you speak! But our duties are to our Cathedral and...all who dwell within.” A strange expression, some sort of internal struggle, moved briefly over the King’s and Queen’s faces — but Leannan didn’t see it, and quickly it was gone. Titania continued, “Perhaps, however, you can persuade us to direct you to one who may help?”
For this, Leannan was prepared. She held out one paw. “Noble King and Queen, in return for your gracious favor, I offer you love.”
“Love?!” Their incredulity was unanimous, and now fury blazed in those cold, clear eyes. Frantically, Leannan concentrated. Fiery light swirled around her outstretched paw — and then suddenly she was holding a crystal bottle filled with deep, dark red liquid.
“What’s this?” Oberon growled. The bottle rose up, plucked from Leannan’s grasp, to hover in front of his face. It was so tiny that it was to him as a speck of dust was to Leannan.
But the King and Queen could feel the power it held, and Leannan explained, “Not for you, but to use against other beings.” She sucked in a deep breath and declared, with some of her old arrogance, “I have spent many years harvesting the deepest ardor and passion, distilling it into the essence you now see. It is a most useful weapon....I know its effects well.”
“Oh, I think you do,” said Titania, her tone sly and mocking. It raised memories from deep inside Leannan, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She had no doubt that the King and Queen could see right through her, and were contemptuously examining the grievances she bore.
“Pure passion, twisted into something blinding and enraging...This may amuse us yet,” Titania purred. And at last, an ice panel behind her shimmered, showing a barren brown landscape beyond.
“The one who may help you dwells deep within the earth. Now begone from this place,” and Titania bared her fangs, “ere your simpering bores us.”
Beside her, Oberon closed a vast paw around the vial. Leannan ran from them, hurling herself through the portal, and she found herself among the mountains of Dragonhome.
The barren mountains were littered with caves and crevices, and Leannan wandered among them for a time. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for — and then one day, she stopped, looking at an unremarkable cave that led deep beneath the earth.
“Come,” it seemed to tell her — and so she did, heading down into the darkness.
She could not be sure how long she traveled. She could feel time passing, but couldn’t say how much, for the darkness around her was total. Still she walked on, following some strange instinct. And then days, perhaps even months later, she saw a faint glow at the end of the tunnel.
Leannan emerged into a vast cavern. Precious gems and metals gleamed within its walls — what little she could see of them anyway, for the cavern was thickly festooned with plants, the likes of which she’d never seen before. Their roots mingled with the precious veins spidering across the walls; sprays of blue and pearly leaves hung over her head. There were fruits like globes of glass, fruits like clusters of stars...
But there were no scents, and there was barely any sound: no birdsong, no insects. There was only the faintest of rustles, and Leannan squinted through the strange, cloudy light that pervaded the cavern.
There was a small dragon: a Fae flitting around the flowers and trees. Leannan almost called out to him, but something stopped her: the sense that she was in grave danger, that something was terribly wrong.
So she stood there instead, waiting for the Fae to complete his work. At last he pivoted in midair and then approached, hovering before her.
“You have come to the Garden of Dwerulas.”
“King Oberon and Queen Titania sent me here. They said you could aid me with...a problem.” Leannan’s words, again, were faltering. The Fae was beautifully garbed in purple and silver, with a crown upon his head. He seemed fragile, but there was power in that tiny frame, and it extended beyond him and deep into the walls of the cavern itself. Like all Faes, his voice was a monotone — but his face was perfectly expressionless, and his frills moved not at all.
“Speak, and I will judge.”
“I wish to procure a weapon. Or a potion, a spell...something strong enough to slay a half-breed sired by a lunar spirit.” A spark leaped into Leannan’s eyes. “I wish for his death to be slow, and for it to be racked by agony — the same agony he visited upon me, before he sealed me into the ground.”
“Sevenfold agony. Sevenfold revenge. What will you give me, dragoness?”
As she had with the Faerie King and Queen, Leannan conjured a vial of ardor. She was about to explain, but Dwerulas plucked it from her claws without further question. When next he opened his paw, it was gone.
He motioned for her to follow him to a hollow in the wall. It seemed no different from the rest of the cavern, except it was thickly festooned with roots and vines. Leannan tried to see where they were coming from, but their sources were hidden in the foliage.
Dwerulas gestured, like a conductor to an orchestra, and Leannan found herself turning, backing into the alcove. It was actually warm, though the vines draped unnervingly against her skin. She asked the Fae, “What happens now?”
Dwerulas recited,
“Now fall into ensorcelled sleep
In earthen deep, in earthen deep
The garden draws from deep within
The poison of your rage, your sin
Petals part upon a flower
A heart, a life it will devour
Let its ambrosia be your boon
Against the spawn of drake and moon”
As he spoke, the vines moved, stealthily wrapping around Leannan. They didn’t squeeze, but she could feel how strong they were. She looked warily at Dwerulas, who continued to stare, unmoving and unblinking.
“So I am to sleep, am I? And you will use my...memories, I presume...to create this weapon. When will I awaken?” And this Leannan said nervously, for she had only just now noticed that the ends of each root were shaped like paws, dragons’ claws tentatively plucking at her skin.
“Soon,” Dwerulas answered curtly, “when the flowers bloom.”
“When the...flowers...?”
The vines were moving visibly now. More and more of them cascaded over the front of the alcove, forming a curtain that hid Leannan from view. She was aware now that other vines were binding her to the earth — would she be imprisoned again? — and then she saw Dwerulas’ flat, merciless gaze and she held her tongue.
“For revenge,” she reminded herself. She shut her eyes, and once again she was atop the windswept hill, the venom of an iron dagger coursing through her wings and her beloved’s accusations shattering her heart. Her fear ebbed. She would be calm.
She would allow herself to be pulled back into the darkness — for revenge.
The spell Khonsu had cast upon Leannan had only been meant to bind her. And so there had been no dreams for her — but Dwerulas’ spell was different.
This time, she dreamed: veiled faces, grinning masks, and silver light that burned...She felt the wind rush past her, iron stinging her hide. Khonsu’s face glared at her, even as the accursed moon fed him its power. Again and again she relived the sickening sight of his face twisting as it burned.
And as Dwerulas had decreed, the enchanted vines lapped up Leannan’s rage till they, too, quivered with the same bitter anger. Outside the hollow, Dwerulas continued to work. He tended his garden, harvesting fruits and nectar, and then one day he pushed some leaves aside and saw a fiery flower—
Leannan awoke with a start. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and when she did, she was suddenly conscious of the vines still wrapped around her. They were as hard as stone....They were stone. How long had she been...?
Suddenly frightened, she struggled, crying out in shock as the petrified vines shattered around her. She burst through the brittle curtain — and stared, dumbfounded, at the great cavern.
Dwerulas was gone and with him, his garden. The cavern was now utterly barren, with not even the faintest glint of wealth, the faintest trace of foliage upon the walls. Even the vines around Leannan’s feet were rapidly crumbling into dust. She stumbled forward in consternation; the garden had totally vanished...
No, not totally. As she turned, she noticed a faint, sharp gleam. There, on the other side of the cavern — a twisted mass that looked like more petrified vines.
Leannan approached the husk. As she pressed her claws against it, the vines crumbled — and something dropped onto her outstretched palm. It was another glass vial, much smaller than the one she’d given Dwerulas, and it held a fiery orange syrup. Only a few drops’ worth — but still Leannan regarded it with trepidation, for like the taciturn Fae, this small object held a terrifyingly huge amount of power.
“And is it not fitting?” she asked herself. “One drop to extinguish an existence...just as it took one ardent look, one careless rumor, to destroy somebody’s life...”
Whatever his faults, the Lord of the Dark Garden had at least upheld his end of the deal. Leannan turned to go.
Now that she had her weapon, she considered the next steps of her plan. She would find that treacherous half-breed, inflict the curse upon him. She didn’t know where to start looking, but she didn’t doubt that she would find him; she had found the Cathedral of Eyes and Dwerulas’ Dark Garden, after all.
Soon she was at the surface. It seemed as though dawn wouldn’t break for some hours yet. Leannan turned, trying to orient herself...
And she stopped, her blood suddenly running cold. “Danger. Here,” her intuition whispered, as the shadows of a distant rock spire began to swell and shift.
Wings parting, faint pulses of light. Candles, quickly extinguished. Golden chains rattled against an inky hide, and from the many-horned head, a voice—
“Leannan. Fairy lover, deceiver...destroyer.”
The shape took one step forward, then another, another. Despite its vast size, its feet made no sound upon the earth.
“To the plains of Heliotrope you came, and thence to the hills of Ereblight,” the shape breathed, its voice whispering like satin. A sash of silk and satin, strangling Leannan’s throat... “With lust and lies you broke promises, you shattered sacred vows.”
“Who are you?” Leannan gasped. “What are...?”
And then the names Heliotrope and Ereblight ignited the fires of memory. Now she fancied she could make out more details upon the shape: satin and lace, as though from fine garments; rings upon her claws. Wedding rings?
Dawn. And as the faintest glint of sunlight pierced the east, Leannan was shaken from her reverie. She leaped skywards, her scarlet wings billowing around her, hoping that the light of day would repel this vengeful shade.
It would — but only until night fell again. Then it would close the gap between itself and Leannan, and the chase would continue until one of them fell — or was lost.
And so Leannan fled across the desert. She had no doubt that this spirit would follow — but let it follow, for now she had her weapon in her grasp. Perhaps, indeed, this spirit would eventually catch her—
“But not”, she vowed fiercely, “before I have my revenge.”
Credits: Special thanks to awaicu for allowing her characters and lair to be featured here.
