The “cage” Gloomfire referred to was expansive, a few acres across, and it took some time for them to navigate out of it. It was so similar looking throughout that without climbing one of the very large trees, he doubted he would have left it successfully. There were also several beasts guarding key choke points on the path outward, which might have deterred someone of lesser intellect from attempting to leave in that direction. He of course would have figured it out. Definitely.

One of the beasts was a large bear the shade of wood, sleeping as they approached, until it shimmered, vanishing and re-appeared behind them, split into multiple copies and standing up-right, wielding a large maul deftly in each of its hands. The elven women, who had coldly ignored every attempt at conversation since she had informed them she was Pevarin’s daughter, walked up to it with soft, soothing words, and it eyed them distrustfully before lowering its weapons, walking back to its position and resting once again. Zach was not afraid to admit that it had been a little terrifying, but he was confident that he was powerful enough to defeat the creature, considering Gloomfire did not even acknowledge its presence.

The next beast was a seemingly inconspicuous deer, but when Pevarin’s daughter beckoned it forth, it stared at him with frightfully intelligent eyes, nodding and allowing them to pass, still following them with its gaze. He said as much to Gloomfire, for once the dragon watching the creature with some amount of trepidation.

“You are right to be wary of it,” said the dragon, “it holds the power of an entire clan, cast to ruin. It could destroy us all with little chance to stop it.”

“What? Really?” he said, glancing back as they passed it. It still stood there, just watching them, locking eyes with him. He saw something within those eyes, something that chilled him to his core. Bambi got fucking metal, man.

“The denizens of Kwinelyn were the first to discover magic. They did not teach all of their secrets to us. They might hold the answers as to why you are able to defy the laws we know of if you’ve the wit to force their hands.”

He had no idea why the dragon was offering helpful advice, but that was indeed true. Comprehension was the first step towards fully unlocking the secrets of whatever his true powers were. It was impossible to spec into a talent tree you hadn’t unlocked, after all. They came across the final guardian, something he was familiar with, and he sighed with relief. It was a simple satyr, a cruel-wicked looking bow in its hands. It regarded him with malicious eyes, and for once he felt not a single ounce of fear.

It drew its bow, string taut with an arrow whose head gleamed with a sickly green coating that dripped down, sizzling into the grass below. It was aimed directly at Zach. Why him? Why not the obviously more dangerous creature? What kind of bullshit aggro system was this? Just as before, Pevarin’s daughter approached it, but it turned its aim on her, snarling.

“I’ve orders from the Grove-Tenders not to let these two leave. Your words mean nothing to me, wench.”

To her credit, she did not cower or retreat, remaining calm, “You do well to remember who placed you here, Syldranian.”

It cackled gleefully, a dangerous light in its eyes. Zach could reach out and slice the tension with his hand it was so palpable. “I forget nothing, Egwyren, least of all the bitch who chained me here. I could kill you right now and none would argue against it. I’ve the right of this one,” the satyr smiled victoriously, “kneel before me and beg forbearance, and I will spare you.

“Step aside, cur,” said Gloomfire, the dragon stepping in front of Pevarin’s daughter, “I have business with the Lords of Morning. Stow your petty hatred and let your betters proceed.” The disdain in his voice was so casual, so backhanded that Zach felt his entire body tense, ready for a fight to break out. He could see Egwyren smile, though it was closer to a cold sneer. The satyr turned the bow almost lazily towards the dragon.

“What is this little lizard doing squawking at me? If you don’t wish for me to clip your wings, remove yourself from my sight.”

“Sever the connection, Hero,” growled Gloomfire, “I tire of this one’s incessant chittering. He will learn why I was once called the Dread-Flame.”

Sever? What was he talking about? Could he mean..?

Zach searched for the magic, finding it quicker this time than before. That was probably his plot armor kicking back in, but he liked to think that he had a natural talent for it. It just made sense to him. The power flooded him, and the satyr and Egwyren whirled, turning to him, but he paid them no heed. Gloomfire only gave them his eerie smile. There was...something, now, between him and Gloomfire. Was that why his reserve was so massive now? Part of the magic was easily discernible from his own. It felt wrong...alive. Like when the power of what had to be the Sly One flowed through him. He wanted to hurl it as far away as possible, but was that wise?

Gloomfire had told him candidly that he would turn him over without a second thought. They were enemies, and just because they were both under threat right now didn’t change that fact. But, for some reason, he wanted to obey the dragon’s request. The creature did have honor, even if it was twisted by the indifference of his species’ mindset. But that was stupid. So stupid. But that’s just who he was. It was what he wanted to do. How could he want to do something so dumb? No, he wasn’t doing that. But maybe, maybe there was a way to have his cake and eat it too.

He took hold of the energy, it pulsing and flopping in his grasp like a floundering fish, and compressed it, taking his own magic and letting it coalesce around the cloud that he had managed to squeeze together. It formed around Gloomfire’s power, preventing it from escaping, the link maintained.

Then, he let go.

The dragon’s magic, sensing its master so near, quivered once in readiness, then hurtled down the funnel. Just before it could reunite, he re-attached himself to it, not his magic, creating a different link, though how he did it he did not know. Gloomfire’s eyes widened, and suddenly the new link he had made shattered, the magic whipping away from him like a vacuum sucking in the power cord. Of course. He hadn’t thought to build protection from someone simply pulling on it as well. He closed the funnel on the other end almost completely, strangling the flow, only a tiny bit trickling into the dragon. Gloomfire’s eyes blazed in fury, but he wasn’t done. Down the middle, he envisioned a wall halfway through the funnel, creating another chokepoint. He finished it, closing his side off as well, leaving a small hole behind. That done, the dragon’s power still yearned to return to its master, but it was no longer a worry or concern for Zach to hold on to it, the tugging weak and faint.

Egwyren stared at him, her eyes wide, the most emotion she had displayed thus far. “You...a perfect Control Funnel. How? It took me years of practice to even form it, let alone contain someone of Rykaren’s strength.”

Surprisingly, Gloomfire looked smug about becoming Zach’s gimp. He supposed having a mighty master made him mighty by association. Wait, Zach was mighty?

“I just...can see what to do. I know what I need and how to direct it,” he said, shrugging helplessly. It was the truth. He had always been able to pick things up quickly, going from game to game and mastering each one without effort. Learning itself was a skill, and despite what he may think of himself, he had always known he was good at that.

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Even the satyr’s eyes darted about them with indecision, hesitation causing his arm to tremble as he held the bow tight, aiming it at Zach again. Zach smirked, a stray thought striking him. He opened his side of the Control Funnel, the magic’s flow tugging hard on him, but it had nowhere to go but the side of the funnel closest to him, and it filled it until it threatened to feed back into him, and he closed his side once again. He opened the middle wall, the dragon’s power filling up the entirety of the funnel, still trickling through to Gloomfire. Pushing, he flung the reserve of magic towards the dragon, then snapped shut the divider before it could even out once again and settle across the funnel.

He felt it rolling back and forth within, waiting, poised, and he opened the door to the dragon. Without hesitation, Gloomfire lunged for the satyr, his hands transforming into massive claws, parts of his arms enveloped in scales, and grabbed the creature tight in his hand. Its bow was crushed, poisons trying to infiltrate the dragon's claws feebly. Laughing with glee, Gloomfire tossed it into the air, the satyr flapping its arms uselessly, indignantly, and the dragon spun, his tail manifesting as if from nothing, and he batted the foul guardian hard into a tree on the far side of the clearing. The satyr crumpled to the ground, tried to rise, and collapsed again, unconscious. Or possibly dead. He reversed the flow, shutting off the stream to the dragon, and the transformed limbs did not immediately vanish, surprisingly. Or rather unsurprisingly, he admitted to himself. It wasn’t as if he was completely shutting the flow off, he was only slowing it to a trickle so that Gloomfire could not do anything significant. Once he expended what he had, only then would the effects dissipate.

Strangely, he felt very much like he had just won a Pokemon battle. He could almost hear the celebratory music. He turned to the dragon, and said, “Not bad. Good form. Don’t expect that to happen often, though.”

Gloomfire didn’t respond angrily, as he expected. He held a readiness about him as if still not done with battle. “We still have this one to deal with, Hero.”

Egwyren looked between them calmly, unconcerned, not even bothering to reach for a weapon. Her eyes settled on him expectantly. He sighed inwardly.

“I won’t fight her, Gloomfire. We’re in their house, we’ll play by their rules.”

The dragon recoiled incredulously, “You mean to trust these primitive forest-dwellers? Hero-”

“I have others to worry about. Only until I know they’re safe will I fight anyone. “

This time he was not nearly as surprised at the Dread-Flame's aggregable acquiescence. For now, the dragon viewed him as his master. The alpha of the pack. The sigma male, even. Zach turned to Pevarin’s daughter, whose icy demeanor had melted away, a smile seemingly just for him that heated his blood. “If you would follow me..?” she said to them, nodding at the satyr’s crumpled form, his head craned awkwardly against the tree. They proceeded without incident, reaching the exit within short order. The door itself was little more than an intricately carved hole (although, he supposed that’s what a door was, in a way) on the front of a large tree, Egwryren approached it, muttered something in Elvish, he assumed, and the outline of the door glowed blue, and it receded into the ground, opening the way.

“Why such a massive cage?” he asked as they stepped through the tree, a spacious tunnel before them. She stood ahead, but he wanted to walk beside her, to talk easier, but her steps were a touch too quick. He’d have to jog slightly to catch up, and Gloomfire was strolling leisurely. It was an awkward spot to be in, and he had no idea what to do. People were so cringe, man. “I know we landed in here, so we kind of imprisoned ourselves, but the place seems expansive. What exactly do you typically hold in here?” He thought of the fierce security as well. Something was tingling his lizard brain.

“Various creatures of the Dawn-Shatterer,” she said off-handedly. “We study them from time to time to better learn our enemy. Your patron favors you indeed that you did not arrive in the hold where the Shadowstalkers roam. That would have been unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant indeed,” agreed Gloomfire. “I am not one to criticize the Emperor, but using the spawn of the Dawn-Shatterer is dangerous. I was never fond of employing them in battle. They are unnatural creatures—alien and disturbing.”

Zach shivered in remembrance of his first encounter in Peratha, the Shadowstalker hunting him near the Gateway. He never did get a good look at it, only knowing that it was large, and faster than anything he had ever seen. Its mouth had expanded large enough to envelop a grown man, and then some. Selara had blasted it with a massive explosion, and that had only injured it. Resistance to magic? Maybe.

“I keep hearing about this Dawn-Shatterer, but what is it? Pe-someone, told me about a great evil that was defeated long ago. That’s him, I’m assuming,” he had even more questions, specifically about the Sly One, his supposed benefactor, but if he was honest, he was afraid to learn just why they called it the Sly One. It was not lost on him that he was very likely a piece in some omniscient being’s mastermind scheme, but for now, there was little he could do to combat the ebb and flow of the events around him. He needed to understand this world first, understand his powers, what he was capable of. After that, well, then he could worry about escaping the riptide he was caught in. “Come to think of it, why do you need to study these creatures? Why are there any still around, even, if it was defeated?”

“Kwinelyn was charged with guarding the remains of the Dark God, Hero,” she replied.

“Zach. You can just call me Zach. Or Zachary, I guess. That’s more formal.” Nice, smooth.

“Zach-a-ry,” she said carefully, stretching out the syllables, “The Emperor only killed the God, he did not favor disposing of it, likely for this reason. We were unaware of what exactly would occur, and we have suffered well for our ignorance. The temple where it is housed has been corrupted, the Dawn-Shatterer's intact essence still producing dark fiends and creatures that should not be.” she shook her head, her tone mournful, “Much of the land has been consumed by its foul miasma. So many forests devoured by its perversion, its wickedness, and we are losing the war.”

“The Emperor is cunning,” said Gloomfire approvingly, “his plans stretch far beyond what we can see and understand. There is always a reason for everything he does. Always.”

“The Emperor,” he said tentatively, no wind blowing, and he relaxed slightly, “he’s...he’s just a man, though, right? I mean, he came from my world,” he imagined some Average Joe dressed in the clothing of a demi-god, sitting on a throne made of skulls. He just couldn’t see it. “In the end, he’s mortal just like me.”

“We will see if you feel that way when you meet him, Hero,” said Gloomfire, quietly. Gloomfire never said anything quietly. It felt as if the dragon was already mourning him. This was spiking his anxiety hard. He needed a subject change.

“So, you’re Pevarin’s daughter?” he said hastily, then almost cursed aloud. Fuck! He settled for in his head instead.

They exited the tunnel, entering into the bright sun. They were actually atop an impressive hill, beautiful woodlands stretching off before them. The view was beautiful, truly gorgeous, and then he swept his gaze westward. It felt wrong. A sense of evil pulsed and emanated from the dark sky in the distance, a feeling like apathy and lethargy combined pushing against him. He had to struggle for a moment to resist the urge to simply lie down and quit moving, exhaustion washing over him. It was so far away, yet it was still this powerful. And the Dawn-Shatterer was dead?

“Yes,” she said, not nearly as coldly as he anticipated. He was having trouble reading her. The emotions she seemed to be displaying didn’t make sense with what he was expecting. That was a problem he had in everything, really. For some reason, he felt fully confident in his ability to predict things, but when he tunneled on the expected result, he was incapable of seeing things for how they truly were. So he focused on her for a moment, staring quite plainly, and she noticed, facing him. She was...sorrowful? Angry. Confused. Forlorn. She missed her dad, was angry to see him, angry he left her, confused at the feelings she felt because they seemed at odds with each other, and beyond that was a deeper sense of longing for connection. Or something. Wow, he should have majored in psychology before he dropped out. He was pretty good at this.

“I was born shortly before our people departed for the homeland.” She went quiet, lost in thought. He was going to have to do the prying thing again, and God did he hate doing that.

“Who was your mother? If you don’t mind me asking.” With his luck, she would be one of these Lords of Morning.

“She is Lady Whisperleaf of the Morning.” she replied simply.

Bruh.