Grand Druid Adamar relaxed in a throne conjured from the roots of an oak. The firelight bathed him as he sipped whisky from a crystal glass.
A tree near Adamar shimmered, its bark parting to reveal Swift-River. Her shoulders sagged with the pressure of failure. Adamar noticed, his expression softening.
The memory of Swift-River flying to Crimson Ruby's Cloud Citadel and dismantling the dragon's safehold lingered between them.
"The weight of your choices has the power to reshape the world, Swift-River," Adamar said, his tone commanding yet calm. Despite the hard facts, his voice softened the truth of their circumstances.
Swift-River held back the truth of Crimson Ruby's blackmail and the omen of his return. "Even dragons half breeds falter," she said, her golden-blonde hair swaying. , she thought.
"Swift-River," Adamar said, his palm pressing against the tree bark. "You bear every burden like the roots of these trees—unyielding, anchoring us all. Few wield such strength."
"Thank you, Adamar," Swift-River said, her voice low. She tilted her head, her posture straightening. "Your words...they lend me strength."
Adamar raised the glass. "To strength, then," he said. "May we always find it when we need it most."
With a gesture of gratitude, Swift-River walked into the nearby cave that housed the operation center. A chill swept over her as she entered. The rocky entrance swallowed her as she ventured into its depths. Her eyes adjusted to the light as she entered the secondary chamber.
The Operations Center buzzed with activity. Druids scrutinized the orc movements in hushed tones. Captain Syl, leader of the Pathfinder council, stood amid the chaos.
Swift-River stepped forward, the weight of months apart showing in her pace. She tilted her head, her focus unwavering. "Syl," she said, her voice steady. The name carried the gravity of time lost.
Syl's lips quirked into a smile, warmth tempered by gravity. The glimmer of their shared history showed briefly in his expression.
His gaze lingered on Swift-River as memories of their past rushed forward—camaraderie and challenges replayed in his mind.
"Swift-River, it's been far too long," he said, his voice carrying warmth and struggle.
Swift-River tilted her head. The quartz veins glowed faintly, their pulses spreading across the cavern floor.
Memories of her younger self drifted back—laughter echoing as she chased rainbows. This cave, once her sanctuary, now stood as a reminder of time's passage.
"I used to imagine the quartz veins as guardians," Swift-River said. "The dancing lights—they watched over me, made this place feel safe." Her shoulders straightened. The thought of this sacred place being defiled twisted her stomach.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Swift-River asked, brushing the edge of a quartz outcrop. "This cave... it's not what it was meant to be anymore."
"Perhaps it protects the realm now, ensuring its balance," Syl said, standing taller. "I commanded the earth to retreat, carving out this space." His arm swept outward, encompassing the cavern. The stillness around him felt charged, as though the realm held its breath.
Silence passed between them. Swift-River's fingers traced the stone wall, her thoughts drifting.
"Syl," she said, her voice softer, "do you ever wonder if I should have interfered during the dragon war? Helped the Orcs against Crimson Ruby?"
Syl nodded, his eyes fixed on the map before them. "It's too late to know, Swift-River," he said. "The past is written. We face the consequences now and forge ahead." His fingers tapped the table's edge, a rhythm that punctuated each point.
Swift-River nodded. An itching sensation flared near her hairline where horn buds formed. She resisted the urge to touch them.
Her throat tightened as warmth spread down to her chest. Beneath her shoulder blades, her skin burned where wings would emerge. The base of her spine tingled with the beginning of a tail.
"Sleep doesn't seem to favor you," Syl said, his tone sharp. "Those shadows clinging to your face—they're louder than words."
Heat surged through Swift-River's throat, the itching intensifying. She swallowed hard, feeling her vocal cords shift. When she spoke, her voice emerged with a southern lilt.
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"Forget how I look, darlin'," Swift-River said, surprised by her tone. For a moment, she felt disconnected from herself.
Her posture straightened as she leaned forward with purpose. "What's the orc-dragon strategy?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the map marking the enemy.
Syl glanced at her, surprise in his eyes at her tone change. He squared his shoulders. "Swift-River, about the orcs, there are... complications," he said before noticing her weariness.
Syl reached into his satchel and pulled out a wrapped package. "I know it's not much," he said, offering it to her, "but I thought you might need something to boost your spirits."
Inside lay herbal teas, known for calming properties. Swift-River accepted it, tension easing around her eyes.
"I understand," Swift-River said. An itch flared at her hairline where horns emerged. Her shoulder blades burned where wings formed beneath her tunic. Her spine tingled with the tail beginning to form.
She shifted, determined to ignore these sensations. she thought.
Her throat cooled, her voice returning to normal. "Secrets..." Swift-River said, looking at Syl. "I have a feeling there's more to this than security concerns."
Syl paused before responding. His face softened as he placed a hand on hers. "The circumstances with the orcs change daily. Any facts I provide now might be wrong tomorrow."
"So Adamar no longer trusts me," Swift-River said. "Do you plan to keep me in the dark too?"
Syl nodded. "Something like that." He removed his hand and stepped back, the space between them growing.
"I realize this is challenging for you," Syl said softly. "It's difficult for me too."
Swift-River sighed and ran a hand through her hair, touching the horn buds hidden within her hairline. She nodded, grasping the situation.
They arrived at Lixiss' workstation. Syl turned to Swift-River, "Adamar has instructed us to withhold information about the orcs from anyone not involved in operations. My hands are tied."
"Lixiss will keep you informed as much as she can." Syl gestured towards the busy elf. "She'll be your liaison." With a measured nod, he walked away.
Swift-River crossed to Lixiss, who stood in the quartz veins' glow. The high elf moved with grace, her silver hair flowing. Lixiss arranged maps and reports, her work clothing shimmering with enchantments.
An enchanted fencing sword rested at her hip, its runes glinting in the light. Unlike traditional druids, Lixiss had mastered a fighting style combining dance with swordplay.
As Swift-River approached, Lixiss turned. Her face, framed by silver hair, held an intensity that set her apart. Her blue eyes cataloged every detail they observed.
"Lixiss, can you tell me what you know about the dragon and orc crisis?" Swift-River asked. She touched her arm where the shadow creature had wounded her—BlazeBurst had healed the gashes completely, leaving no trace.
Lixiss pointed at her map, tracing the lines with her finger. "After the battle, the orcs recovered from the war. They tended their injuries and gathered strength. Then, they divided into smaller groups and dispersed across the land."
Swift-River noticed how Lixiss's gaze lingered on areas marked with obsidian pins—locations that formed a pattern radiating from Clan Lugh, where Crimson Ruby had fallen.
"That's all I can say now," Lixiss said, tilting her head. Her eyes fixed on Swift-River with intensity, as though reading her soul. Her gaze dropped to Swift-River's arm where the shadow wounds had been, though no marks remained.
The itching at Swift-River's emerging horns intensified, spreading down her spine. Her shoulder blades tightened as wings threatened to break through. The base of her spine throbbed with the beginning of a tail. Her throat burned, and a primal surge stirred within. She gripped the table as heat coursed through her body.
The feeling reminded her of the shadow creature's assault—how it had reached into her essence, but where that entity brought cold, this fire came from within.
"Lixiss, darlin'," Swift-River said, her voice transformed into a southern drawl. Her posture shifted as she stood taller. Her eyes flickered with fire, her gaze demanding answers.
Dragon magic ignited within her—horns, wings, tail, and throat. "And... Crimson Ruby... Darlin', anything weird with that?" she asked, her voice rich with authority.
Lixiss recognized the change, her eyes widening as she observed the transformation. The air around Swift-River shifted with draconic power that Lixiss sensed.
Color left Lixiss' eyes. Her fingers traced the map, her gaze distant. "The bodies of Crimson Ruby and the other dragons... they disappeared on the third night after the orcs triumphed at Clan Lugh," she said, her voice hollow. "Soon after, Roar'Z spread the horde across the realm."
Her fingers moved to the obsidian pins, tracing a pattern. "Shadow manifestations have been reported at these locations... all places with connections to Crimson Ruby's past. Dark entities that decay life, probe minds for weaknesses, and leave wounds that resist healing." Her voice took on an eerie quality, as if reciting forbidden knowledge.
Color returned to Lixiss's eyes. She blinked, looking disoriented. "I'm sorry, Swift-River, you must come back later. All I can say is they dispersed." She glanced at her hand on the pins and withdrew it, smoothing her hair nervously.
Swift-River's eyes narrowed as she observed Lixiss, replaying each action. The heat in her throat subsided, her voice returning to normal as her dragon aspect faded.
These fragments fit her grove encounter. There, the shadow creature had forced her to relive her betrayal of the dragon and face her guilt over the Cloud Citadel.
A shiver ran through her. she wondered.
The news of Crimson Ruby's missing body hit her hard. If shadow manifestations spread across the realm, probing minds of those tied to his downfall, it meant Crimson Ruby existed beyond death. Her mission had changed from redemption to survival.
Swift-River took a deep breath. "Thank you, Lixiss," she said, her voice steady but uncertain.
With respect, Swift-River left Lixiss and crossed the operations center. Before leaving, she stopped at Syl's station near the exit.
She hesitated in the doorway. "Your honesty means more than you know," she said. "If things go bad..." she paused, remembering where the shadow creature had touched her arm. "Please... let me help."
She stepped outside into the night. Hope battled with dread inside her as her path stretched forward.
One thought consumed her: Crimson Ruby had transformed. The shadow that attacked her had sought her specifically, targeting her guilt about the Cloud Citadel. If the dragon had returned, their world faced peril. With her emerging dragon heritage, she might be the only one who could stop what was coming.
Favorite, leave a Rating, and sound off in the comments:
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Do you trust Syl’s guarded optimism—or is he hiding something darker?
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What’s your wildest theory about Swift-River’s horns, wings, and tail?
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Shadow manifestations tied to Crimson Ruby’s past—omen or opportunity?
Next time on The Great Dying: Chapter 3, “The Rise of Crimson Ruby,” drops us into a dracolich’s lair where betrayal is currency and terror is loyalty. Expect undead dragons, treacherous tunnels, and a plan that could ignite a second war.
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