Day 0: Prologue
Trigger Warnings: Some blood and violence.
Azorillith
Azorillith pushed her wings to beat harder, forcing them to go as fast as they could. She could still hear the screams of her clanmates behind her, getting fainter and fainter the farther she flew from the lair. Had she been able to focus on anything other than beating her wings faster than she ever had before, she might have felt guilty for leaving her clan to die.
The rotten, bone-littered ground of the Scarred Wasteland zoomed by beneath her, eventually giving way to the shadowy forests of the Tangled Wood. It was here, miles away from her clan, that she collapsed from exhaustion, dipping lower in the sky until she outright plummeted to the ground.
Lataiss
Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t MOVE.
Lataiss was barely able to rein in her trembling. She had to stay still. If they saw her move, even an inch…
The fur of her summer coat pressed wetly against her frame, the blood that soaked it creating an image she hoped was convincing enough to distract her clan’s murderers should they pass by her family’s cave again. She could still hear them off in the distance, no doubt shuffling through the clan treasury. She forced her body to remain still. She had to hope, to pray to every existing deity, that they would leave soon. She couldn’t stay like this forever.
Bergon
Like always, Bergon was the lookout for his clan’s latest raid. Well, “raid” was far too pretty of a term for what his clan was doing. “Killing spree” was probably more apt, seeing as all the dragons in the unfortunate target clan ended up dead every. single. time.
If this had been just any other raid, Bergon would have been content to sit on a lookout post far away from the carnage and plug his ears until someone came to fetch him. Today, however, something in his gut tugged him toward the battlefield. He NEEDED to move.
‘You’re too late, you’re too late…’ His brain taunted him.
‘Too late for what?’ He snapped back, receiving no answer in return.
He was just about to abandon his post out of desperation when Kihara, the clan’s youngest member, came and relieved him of his duty. With some hardship, Bergon flew off at a normal pace toward the subterranean lair he had seen earlier.
He couldn’t head for the battlefield directly, though. The clan leader, an orange guardian named Anthius, would demand to see him first. With his gut tugging him in the other direction the whole time, he soared over to where the proud patriarch stood barking orders at his subordinates. “Bergon!” Anthius called, “I trust there was no trouble?”
After lowering his head in a respectful bow, Bergon replied, “There was no trouble at all, sir. Where do you want me now?” Bergon regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. While Anthius might be pleased with his eagerness, Bergon himself would be cursing the very same trait as he wasted time on the next inescapable project.
Anthius shot a sharp-toothed grin at Bergon before instructing him to join the others in the ransacked lair to gather and dispose of the bodies. Bergon struggled to keep his face even as he glided down to the lair entrance, only allowing himself a satisfied smirk once he was inside the dark tunnels. This was where he NEEDED to be, his gut just told him so. There was something important in here that he had to find.
Ignoring the calls of Niall, a female mirror who was attempting to drag the carcass of a pearlcatcher toward the entrance, Bergon followed the confusingly spiraling tunnels of the lair as if he had lived there his entire life. He knew which ways to turn, something deep within him instructing him at every crossroads and split path. Before long, he found himself in a chamber, staring at the corpses of three pale-colored tundra dragons.
Lataiss
Lataiss stopped breathing the moment she heard footsteps approaching, fear running icy cold through her veins. Over the acrid tang of blood that tainted the air, she could smell an unfamiliar dragon approaching the cavern.
She heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a deep mutter as the footsteps came even closer. The presence of the dragon was tangible even with her eyes closed.
“Nononono…please, no… I can’t have failed… I didn’t even know…” The voice was right next to her now. Lataiss couldn’t fathom why it sounded as sad and grief-stricken as it did; this was obviously one of her clan’s murderers. Suddenly, she was nudged in the side by a massive snout. She managed to remain still, but her lungs were starting to burn. “C’mon, please get up… please… you have to be alive… I can’t lose my Charge like this…”
Lataiss couldn’t restrain herself any longer; she gasped loudly for breath and scrambled to her feet.
Bergon
Bergon couldn’t believe it; his Charge was alive! The white and tan tundra in front of him pushed herself up unsteadily and blinked her eyes open, panting heavily the whole time. “A-are you ok?” he asked worriedly as she recoiled from him, defensively spreading her wings and raising her tail.
“Who are you?” she asked with as much of a growl as she could muster.
He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a call echoing down the tunnels, “Oi, Bergon! Ya down here?” Bergon looked from the chamber entrance to the blood-smeared tundra in front of him, quickly making the executive decision to respond.
“Yeah, I’m down here Niall! I found three more bodies… could you send down some help?” He yelled back while attempting to shush his startled Charge with a series of calming paw gestures.
“What makes you think I would send down help after you ignored me earlier?” Niall retorted. Bergon could imagine with complete clarity the smug face she was making.
“The fact that you get my share of dinner tonight?” Bergon waited patiently for a few moments as Niall pretended to mull it over. If there was one thing the sassy mirror loved more than teasing him, it was food.
“Steven is on his way, so keep yelling to make sure he can find you!” Niall’s shout unabashedly displayed the excitement she felt at his offer.
“Will do, Niall!” Bergon turned his attention back to the tundra beside him, who looked to be feeling a mix of terror and fury. “Shh, it’s okay. If you flop over my back like you’re dead, Steve won’t notice and I can sneak you out of here.” He whispered to her.
Her wings and tail dropped from their prior defensive poses. Bergon crouched down and allowed her to climb up and splay across his back.
“Bergon?” Another yell, this time closer and coming from Steven.
“Down here, Steve!” Bergon shouted back. Within minutes, the emerald colored imperial had found his way and was looming in the all-too-short doorway of the cave. “I can only carry this one, can you take the other two?” Bergon asked, pushing the other two tundras toward the doorway. Steven simply nodded, taking the bodies before heading back toward the surface. Bergon followed easily, careful not to drop his not-so-dead cargo as he ascended the steeply sloping passages.
The orange light of the approaching sunset flowed in through the lair’s massive entrance hole, shading both Steven and Bergon with various fiery hues. Bergon hesitated before crossing the threshold, trying to lay out a plan for what to do next. He had his Charge, but how did he get her away from here without problems from his clanmates?
The idea hit him suddenly, and he managed to growl a quiet “Hold on…” to his passenger before executing his plan. With an easy leap, he was in the air and winging away toward the Tangled Wood, leaving behind a throng of confused clanmates. Casting a wary glance over his shoulder, Bergon noticed with satisfaction that very few had realized what he was doing and were attempting to give chase. He pushed his wings to flap harder, quickly leaving his pursuers in the dust.
Azorillith
Dull blue moonlight filtered in through Azorillith’s closed eyelids, pulling her ever so gently from unconsciousness. Sore muscles shifted and red eyes wearily opened.
‘This is no time for sleep.’ She chastised herself,
‘I have to be careful now that I’m on my own.’
She glanced around the clearing where she had crash-landed earlier in the day, trying to pry some useful data on her surroundings from her muzzy brain.
‘Hmm…this is most likely a part of Wispwillow Grove, which means I am at least one-hundred miles from home [if there is still a home, that is]. Monsters here are most likely nocturnal [or are they diurnal, since it is always night here?]. Considering these facts, my first order of business should be to make some sort of shelter.’
Gathering some flexible sticks from the ground, Azorillith set about weaving a small hut around the base of one of the tall, mushroom-infested pines that ringed the clearing. There would be just enough space on the inside for her to sleep curled around the trunk of the tree. Despite her exhausted limbs, the basket-like shelter went together quickly, and she was safe before any sort of monster noticed her wakefulness and managed to strike at her from the foggy undergrowth. As she lay, concealed by a mesh of pine boughs, she silently thanked her mother for teaching her how to weave. Then, forcing a wave of unpleasantly recent memories concerning her mother and clan back into the depths of her brain, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a fitful but healing sleep.
Lataiss
Lataiss just could not believe that she was alive despite all that had transpired over the past few hours. It was so strange to think that not only had she been saved, but she had been saved by a member of the enemy. The funny thing was, Bergon didn’t SEEM like a member of the enemy. From Lataiss’ rather limited point of view, he seemed sincere and maybe even regretful for what had happened. He carried a book tied to his hip instead of a bow or sword; he had a set of goggles on his head instead of a helmet. He seemed to be the exact opposite of a brutal fighter, yet the enemy clan had so clearly appeared to know him.
“Hey, we’re coming up on the Tangled Wood. Would you be okay to stop here for the night?”
Bergon’s voice snapped Lataiss out of her spiraling train of thought. “Wha- oh, yeah, that’s fine. Anywhere that isn’t in the Scarred Wasteland is alright with me.” She replied quietly. Bergon craned his neck around to shoot her a calming smile before gently gliding down.
Lataiss slid off of Bergon’s back the moment his feet touched the ground. Her legs felt slightly numb, and she almost toppled over. After wobbling for a few moments, she regained her footing and was able to fully examine the forest around her.
The first thing that she noticed, in accordance with tundra olfactory capabilities, were the smells. The spicy scent of pine intermingled thickly with the dusty smell of fungi and, overlapped with these, were various subtle odors produced by the Tangled Wood’s creatures. Hidden among the other smells, just barely noticeable, was a familiar scent she couldn’t quite place.
‘An animal…? A plant…? A dragon…?’ Lataiss contemplated as she mindlessly helped Bergon collect firewood. She was vaguely aware that the guardian was attempting to start a conversation, but that was the least of her present worries.
By the time they had a fire up and going, all Lataiss could remember was a flash of powder blue colored scales, meaning the scent came from a dragon. However, the smoke from the fire quickly cloyed all traces of the smell out of her nostrils, leaving her with nothing aside from than the menial remembrance.
“Hey, you still awake over there?” Bergon’s voice softly invaded her mind and brought her back into the real world.
“Oh, yeah. Just thinking, sorry.” Lataiss replied, focusing on Bergon for the first time since they had landed that evening. He was curled up near the fire, scribbling down a few notes in the book that had been attached to his hip earlier.
“It’s not a problem. I just haven’t met a tundra that’s so quiet.” Bergon glanced up at her, the firelight reflecting in his deep red eyes.
“I’m not usually; I just smelled something familiar here and I’m trying to figure out what it might be. All I can remember, though, is blue scales.” Lataiss said with a sigh.
“D’you it could be one of your clanmates? It wouldn’t be too farfetched for a dragon to have flown here from your lair; we did it, after all.”
“I guess it could be possible. I didn’t see any bodies besides my parents’ on our way out.” Lataiss’ voice held a note of melancholy, and she switched her gaze from Bergon to the ground.
“We can look in the morning if you want.” Bergon suggested, shutting his notebook and reattaching it to his hip.
“I would appreciate that Bergon. Goodnight.” Lataiss said as she curled up with her back facing toward the dark colored guardian.
“Goodnight, uh, hmm. Did you mention your name before?”
“No. It’s Lataiss.”
“Well, goodnight Lataiss.”
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