Tristan returned to the Queen’s Wood and was met by The Matriarch at the top of the ramp leading to the entrance. She had quite the sorrow-filled expression, and appeared to have been crying. “What’s wrong?” Tristan asked.

  “Hurvun…your grandfather told me about the…the recent learning…Lord Tristan, you are the last of the Winterbloom.” She shook her head, “It is…terrible. Absolutely terrible.” Her face twisted into one of anger and sheer rage, “If I could leave this Realm and hunt down those responsible, I would do so in a heartbeat! I would shred and obliterate them utterly!”

  Tristan nodded, “It is a terrible state of affairs,” he muttered. He stepped up to her and gave her a hug, “But it will be okay. I’m still alive. And as long as I’m alive, the Winterbloom are still alive.”

  The Matriarch seemed taken off guard by the sudden motion, but she eventually returned the hug, “You are a good man, Tristan,” she whispered. Pulling back, she composed herself. “Your grandfather is in the quarters below. Shall I send Felicity down as well when she returns?”

  “What? Why?”

  She blinked a few times and then let out the tiniest of giggles, “Your grandfather asked…oh, well, he should really be the one to tell you-”

  “Matriarch? I order you to tell me what he asked. And what your answer was.”

  She nodded and composed herself, “He asked if it was out of place for Elves to share a bed with fairy dragons in their elfanoid forms. I told him that yes, they can. He then made the suggestion that you and Felicity-”

  “What?” Tristan said, aghast as he was filled with a sense of shock. “That old bastard!”

  The Matriarch giggled once more, “It is not uncommon for your bloodline, Lord Tristan. Zeltana had many such fairy dragon companions who took on elfanoid forms to keep her company. In fact, it was one of the few ways that she was able to express fondness for a person, as she outlived many of her own kind.”

  Tristan chose to shift the topic of conversation, “You never told me how Zeltana died. If not old age, then what?”

  “Ah, sadly, she chose to end her own life.” The Matriarch gestured up to the Queen’s Wood, “This was not always called what it is. This used to be the Heart of the Fey, but a terrible disease intruded upon our Realm from the Plague Realm. I closed the rift quickly, but the disease took root and festered, destroying everything it touched and rotting all of the land. Zeltana sacrificed her life in a powerful spell and act of self-sacrifice to cleanse the Realm.”

  Tristan looked back out at the horizon with worry, “What if it happens again?”

  “It cannot. Elvenkind went on a crusade, going into the Plague Realm despite terrible cost and ensuring the destruction of all within. Then, I grafted the Realm onto our own; making our Realm immune to disease and plague.”

  Tristan looked at her, “Grafting a Realm does that?”

  “When a Realm Protector grafts a Realm, they may choose one singular trait of that Realm and apply it to their own. The reason why those in the Plague Realm did not suffer was because of their immunity. Well, now this Realm has the same immunity. As does all who are born here.”

  Tristan nodded, “Thanks for sharing.”

  The Matriarch gave him a small grin, “You are welcome. Now, shall I advise Felicity-”

  “No!” Tristan said quickly. “No, I’m not ordering anyone to be a companion. I won’t do that.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Tristan stepped past her and went right to his grandfather’s chamber, knocking loudly. “Grandfather! We need to talk!”

  “In the tub!”

  Tristan pushed the door in and averted his gaze, looking up at the ceiling. “Grandfather, why did you need to ask The Matriarch what you did?”

  “Oh, you are welcome-”

  “Let’s get one thing straight! I am not going to do what you or anyone else thinks I should do! I’m my own goddamn man, and the lord of this Realm.”

  Hurvun chuckled, “Suit yourself. If it were any other man in your position? He would have a whole harem of these…humanoid-form fairy dragons serving his every whim.”

  Tristan slammed the door shut and went to his chambers; stripping off his gear. After putting it aside appropriately on its various racks, he took a dip in the small pool in the chamber. After, he went right to bed.

  He was woken up by a paw batting his face. Blinking his eyes open, he saw Felicity in her fairy dragon form looking at him. “Wake up, sleepyhead!”

  Tristan sat up and yawned, “Right. Time to hunt down a dragon.”

  “A demonic dragon,” Felicity said as she flew up above him and then went around in circles. “Come on! Let’s go! I want to see what a real dragon is like!”

  Tristan donned his armor and equipment, heading up the root stalk to find The Matriarch out front overseeing fairy dragons who were midway through weaving tents. She bowed as he approached, and Felicity landed atop his head. “Ah, Lord Tristan. I trust you slept well?”

  “Yes, thank you,” he replied. “Is my grandfather up?”

  Felicity patted his head, “I’ll go get him!” She flew off to the interior of the tree.

  The Matriarch looked at Tristan, “You took her to bed?”

  “What? No!”

  “Oh. She went into your chamber.”

  “She slept on the pillow next to me I think,” Tristan replied.

  “Ah. Well, I filled her in on my conversation with Hurvun-”

  “Why?” Tristan asked, exasperated.

  “Honesty is the best policy with one’s family,” she replied. “I would never lie to my children, or you, Lord Tristan. Well, any Winterbloom, but…” she trailed off. “Apologies.”

  Felicity flew back out from the tree with Hurvun in tow, “I found the old geezer in the vault!”

  “I am not a geezer,” Hurvun replied. He looked at Tristan who still had a pissed-off expression. “Oh, what happened?”

  “Just get into the damned circle,” Tristan muttered as he walked over to it. When Felicity tried to land on his head, he patted his pauldron instead, “Land here, please. We need to talk.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  She landed on his shoulder, “Jeesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the pillow.” She stuck out her tongue at him and blew a raspberry.

  Hurvun joined Tristan and put a hand on his other shoulder. Tristan spun his crucible and poured essence into his ring, teleporting back without the horses. When they reappeared in the ruined town, Hurvun pointed up to the mountains nearby, “Felicity said she saw odd light up that way.” He began to ascend the steep, steep trail. Far too steep for horses, hence their decision to leave them in the Fey Realm.

  Tristan followed his grandfather on the ascent, and looked over at Felicity. “I know The Matriarch told you what my grandfather asked about.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I mean, I knew it was something that wasn’t uncommon. Honestly, I was kind of expecting you to order me even-”

  “No,” Tristan replied. “No. I’m not doing that. I won’t ever order someone to serve me like that. Mother insisted that if I was ever to be with a person, that it had to be their choice.”

  “A person? I mean, I heard of you humans doing some weird stuff, but…does man or woman not matter?”

  “To some,” Tristan replied. “It is frowned upon in the kingdom of Bhant, but other regions are more accepting of the practice.”

  “So are you-”

  “I like girls, not boys,” Tristan replied. “And you do not need to know my preference. You’re my ally and companion. I don’t see you like that.”

  “Ah.” She looked at his head, “Can I sit on your head then?”

  “Yes, you may.”

  She flapped up and perched atop his head once more, batting playfully at his ears. He heard her sigh before she stopped batting at his ears. “I’ll keep a look out behind us. You focus on not slipping! I don’t want you dying because you split your head open!”

  The ascent took most of the day and by the time night began to creep on and the five moons rose in the sky overhead Hurvun insisted they stop. “We shouldn’t travel during the night,” he softly said. “Dragons are sometimes nocturnal. I don’t know about this type of dragon in particular, though. Plus, we cannot see in the dark.”

  “You cannot see in the dark, you mean,” Tristan said. “It’s only a bit farther. Why don’t I go up there, use an illusion spell to keep myself concealed, and scout? It might just be a cave.”

  Hurvun grumbled a little but nodded, “Sure. I’ll wait here.” He sat down on a rock under an overhang. “You can see in the dark?”

  Tristan chuckled, “Yup. Being an Elf is far superior to being a half-breed. Felicity? Time to go invisible. And as for me, Verhoa minut hunnulla, joka maastouttaa minut.” (Manifest a shroud around my form that will blend me into the surroundings). He incanted the spell phrase for Blended Body, and touched his index finger and ring fingers to his thumb, his pinky to the base of his palm, and his middle finger up. Spinning his crucible, he felt the spell take effect as the cooling rush flooded through his body.

  Glancing down, he verified that he was transparent, and then smiled as he spoke, “I’ll be back.” He began the ascent, his innate dark vision able to see what used to be the ancient remnants of some type of goatherder path. Following the trail up another hour, he was heaving breaths as he arrived at the cave entrance.

  It was easily fifty feet across, but low at only about ten feet height. And he heard…clinking. Distant clinking of metal on rock. Someone is definitely here. He drew his sword and began his descent. “Felicity, keep an eye on my rear,” he whispered.

  “Right!” she turned around. “Nice ass,” she said jokingly.

  Tristan almost let out a giggle, “Not now,” he admonished at the same whisper volume.

  Going into the cave, he saw that the initial low height of the ceiling did not relent until he reached the back of the cave, at which point the roof arched upward up to a middle point at the top of this mountain. The chamber he found himself in was nondescript, save for the enormous pit in the center.

  Glancing over, he could hear the tick tick of the metal on stone. There were a series of handholds carved into the side of the tube, and he glanced back at the entrance. I can go get grandfather, or see who this is. For all I know, this could be some miners. “Felicity, mind flying down there and seeing what’s making that noise?”

  “On it!” She flew down into the pit in lazy, drifting circles. She reached the bottom and flew horizontally along the ground towards the same face Tristan was standing upon. Tristan waited with bated breath for several minutes, letting his spell fade so he could ensure that he was topped up.

  He froze as he heard a growling voice behind him, “Ah…who are you?” The voice was deep, male, and caused his chest to vibrate from the deep bass noise.

  Tristan spun around and saw the bulky form of a wyrm-sized dragon shove its bulk through the small crevice at the front of the chamber. But…it was not a dragon like any he had seen, read about in his grandfather’s journals, or seen sketches of. This creature was almost serpent-like. It had ten legs – five on each side – instead of the usual four. And its body was long and sinuous rather than bulky around the torso. Its head was more snake-like as well, and its eyes were a deep black with no iris. There were no wings, which also made Tristan quite nervous, as the Chaun fellow he had saved had mentioned it flying down into the town.

  “Hey, it’s just people minin-” Felicity stopped talking as she saw the enormous beast before them both. “Oh…shit.”

  The creature chuckled, “Now, why don’t you stop standing there, and get down that tube, and keep digging out my hole?”

  Tristan felt pressure on his temples and drew his sword, focusing his vision on the metal of the blade. He imagined its strength and durability and envisioned the same within his mind’s eye. He focused on it to the exclusivity of anything else, and felt the pressure recede. “You’re not going to get into my mind!”

  “On it, boss!” Felicity shouted as she flew down the shaft.

  I guess I should be thankful she is out of harm’s way, Tristan thought. He faced the creature and spun his essence crucible, feeling the repository of power within him as he pushed the essence through his body. He felt it fill him up from toe to tip, and he pushed some of the power into his sword as it grew. “I am Tristan Anorox, dragonslayer.”

  “Oh? A dragonslayer?” The creature let out a chortle before its eyes turned a deep, dark purple. “Ever slain a dragon?”

  Tristan chose not to answer as he felt that primal urge inside him. The urge to kill this thing, destroy it utterly, and devour its blood and essence. He rushed forward as fast as he could run.

  The demonic dragon curled its mass behind itself before lunging forward with its mouth – something that Tristan had not trained for at all. It was a move that he’d never heard of a dragon using.

  But, his training with The Matriarch, and his enhanced Elf form, ensured he could react in time. He dove to the side, coming up from the dive in a quick roll before turning to face the creature. It pulled its head back and laughed, “Ah, slippery, aren’t you?”

  Tristan poured some of the essence into his Cloak of Winterbloom, feeling it respond to his will. “Bow to me.”

  There was a pulse of force that emanated from him, causing the cloak to flutter in a phantom breeze. The creature looked at him with a sidelong glance before laughing. “Enchantment? Really? You are a fool!”

  It lunged forward again, but Tristan wanted it to do that. Its head was fast, and Tristan chose not to move, instead holding his blade out in front of him and pouring essence into his armor to activating Scales of our Foe. The helmet emerged from the armor and covered him fully, as the plates grew thicker and more protective.

  The creature tried to move its head around the sword point, but Tristan altered the direction he held it just slightly, and it pulled back from its lunge. “You think you’re clever?!” it growled out. “Back against the wall, a bit of shiny metal in front of you? I said, go work on my lair!”

  Tristan felt the pressure build up on his temples again, but this time it was far stronger and akin to a pulsating headache. He focused on his sword as hard as he could, pushing aside all thoughts that he had save for the surety of the steel in his grip. And the pressure faded. He ran forward – only slightly slowed by the armor – as he got into range to swing a lopping, horizontal strike.

  He was able to cut a gash across its hide, and came to a sudden realization. It doesn’t have scales! It’s like a snake skin! He grinned under the helm, knowing that this thing was far easier to injure than he had anticipated…and he also knew, now, that just like all wrym-sized dragons, it had very few plans it employed.

  Whereas other wyrms would use roars to intimidate their foes, this one used a weak enchantment spell of some type to try and compel him. After, it attempted to lash out with rapid strikes, which did not help it against Tristan’s defensive screen of a sharp, long sword longer than its mouth. And then it tried a more powerful enchantment spell – but Tristan had foiled that as well.

  The creature recoiled and let out a mix of a hiss and roar and turned to face the entrance, but froze. Tristan heard his grandfather’s voice. “You’re the weirdest dragon I’ve ever seen.”

  Tristan took advantage of the opening and ran up to the tail, stabbing down through it and into the rock below. The creature let out the roar-hiss of pain as it pulled itself through the sword – tearing a larger gash through the side of the tail and almost lopping it off – as it tried to exert its will on Tristan once more. “Fight this foolish dragonslayer!”

  Tristan focused on his weapon and felt the pressure fade, “That won’t work on me!”

  “It wasn’t meant for you!” the demonic dragon said as it moved its coils aside.

  Hurvun walked forward with slow, plodding steps as he held his enormous chopping sword above his head. Oh, fuck me, Tristan thought.

  “Die for the master!” Hurvun shouted as he ran forward.