The next day, Erica found herself wandering north as per the instructions of Dror’Khanik. She had spent hours trying to reach out to him, desperate for answers to the many questions that had flooded her mind now that her thoughts had settled. But he remained silent. Whether his ability to communicate was limited, or he was simply choosing not to respond, she couldn’t tell.
Earlier that morning, his words had torn her from her sluggish, half-awake state, his voice chasing away the lingering exhaustion from her body.
“Setting me free will be no easy task,” the dragon had said, his voice a deep rumble that resonated in her mind. “You must ask yourself if you are willing to do what it takes. Those who profit from the death and destruction of this war will seek to stop you. My return to the surface world will herald the beginning of an era of peace—an era that terrifies them. Yet I believe, with every fiber of my being, that you have what it takes to shatter the chains that bind me. Together, we can reclaim your daughter’s soul from the great beyond. All you have to do is choose.”
He had paused, as though waiting for her answer, but Erica had been too stunned to respond. After a moment of silence, he continued.
“If you choose to walk this path, I will serve as your guide and lend you my strength. To the north, you will find tools I have prepared to aid you on your journey. But if you lack the will and courage to see your daughter again…” His tone grew colder, more distant. “Then I will leave you, so you may seek your own path.”
And then, like sunlight fading behind a cloud, his voice disappeared before she could muster a reply. His words lingered in her mind as she walked, leaving her to ponder their weight.
The thought of becoming entangled in a war between dragons was terrifying, and so was trusting the words of Dror’Khanik. But the thought of being left alone—without hope—was far worse. This was her chance, not only to rid herself of the crushing guilt, anger, and despair that had consumed her, but to make a difference. A chance to give Molly the wonderful life she had deserved. Even though the journey ahead felt like marching toward her death, Erica knew she would hate herself forever if she didn’t try.
Returning to Willowcreek was out of the question. The guards would throw her in a dungeon before she could even speak. Her home—and what little she still owned—would be taken as collateral when she inevitably failed to pay next month’s rent. And with her reputation in tatters, the prospect of finding a new job was laughable. Worse, she would have to live with the resentment, hopelessness, and regret that had burrowed deep into her soul.
Yet now, for the first time in years, she felt something else: a glimmer of hope. It was faint, like the glow of an ember, but it felt as though it threatened to ignite the forest around her. For the first time, she had a direction, a purpose. The endless years of wandering through life, lost and hopeless, seemed to have come to an end. This was the beginning of something new—something she had never dreamed possible. Just a few days ago she had held her daughter's corpse in her arms, but now she had the opportunity to bring Molly back, healthy and whole.
The forest around her was eerily silent. Animals fled the moment she entered their sightline. There were no bird chirps, no rustling critters, no distant calls of deer. Yet the stillness felt almost serene, as though the world itself had paused to give her space to breathe. Free from the suffocating weight of stress and anxiety, she felt a fleeting moment of peace. But beneath it all, guilt lingered, whispering in her mind with Molly’s cold, lifeless eyes. She had left her daughter alone in her final moments—a failure she could never forgive herself for. Something she was determined to make up for.
“I see you have chosen,” Dror’Khanik’s voice cut through her thoughts, shattering the fragile calm.
“I… I think so,” Erica said hesitantly, glancing around at the empty forest. “But I have more questions.”
“All your questions will be answered in time,” he replied, his rough voice sending shivers down her spine. “In my current state, my powers are limited. If I spend my strength answering your every question, I will have none left to watch over you when you need me.”
“Alright,” Erica said with a nervous sigh. “I just… I just want to understand all of this.”
“I will answer what I can, but first, there is something I must give you.” His voice grew quieter, almost reverent.
Pain erupted in her right hand without warning. It felt as though invisible flames were scorching her flesh, searing through her skin and into her very bones. Erica screamed, her cries echoing through the forest, but there was no one around to hear. She collapsed to the ground, clutching her arm, the fire spreading up toward her shoulder like an army of burning ants. Before panic could fully overtake her, the pain subsided as quickly as it had come.
“I apologize for not warning you,” the dragon said as her breathing slowed. “The pain would have been far worse if you had been expecting it.”
“What did you do to me?” Erica asked, her voice trembling. She stared at her arm, horrified to find that the flesh of her right hand and forearm had turned ashen black, cracked like volcanic rock. The texture of her skin had changed to a strange mixture of stone and burnt leather, and every movement felt stiff. Yet her fingers still responded when she willed them to move.
“I have repurposed your arm as a form of storage,” Dror’Khanik explained, his voice low and growling. “I can place spells and magical energy within it, which you may use at your discretion. Do not worry—the magic can be undone when our paths diverge. Not even a scar will remain.”
Erica’s panic began to fade, replaced by confusion. “How am I-” she asked, staring at her arm as though it belonged to someone else.
“I will teach you,” he said curtly, cutting her off. “I will inform you of the magic stored within and provide instructions when needed. In time, you will learn to cast spells on your own. But for now, this will suffice.”
“You could’ve at least let me finish…” Erica muttered, more annoyed than afraid.
“We are short on time,” the dragon said sharply. “There are tasks we must complete in this forest.”
Erica’s irritation quickly gave way to a renewed sense of purpose. The soothing heat wrapped around her shoulders, filling her with strength. “Alright, what do we need to do?”
“Not far north from here, you will find three individuals whom I have guided to this place,” Dror’Khanik’s voice resonated in Erica’s mind. “With little persuasion, they will protect you until you are strong enough to protect yourself.”
“Who are they?” Erica asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Three giants,” the dragon responded, his tone calm and serious.
“Giants…? Here? There haven’t been giants on Strathos for thousands of years!” Erica exclaimed, fear creeping up her spine.
“I am aware. That is why I guided them here.”
“How?! The border between Strathos and Eredus is supposed to be heavily guarded to keep giants, orcs, and other monsters out!”
“You forget who I am,” Dror’Khanik said, his voice as steady as a flowing stream. “Bringing them here was a simple task, and now they will serve as your guardians. They will allow you to sleep soundly, even through the darkest nights.”
Erica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Do we even speak the same language? How am I supposed to convince something like that to help me? Do I even want them watching over me while I sleep? This is absolutely—”
The dragon interrupted her rambling. “You are correct—they speak a language foreign to you. That is why I altered your arm, so I could give you this.”
A dim orange glow flickered from beneath the cracks in Erica’s arm, the light gentle like the flame of a lantern. She stared at it with a mixture of dread and relief, thankful at least that it didn’t hurt.
“All you need to do is place this hand upon their chests,” Dror’Khanik continued, “and they will become your warriors.”
Erica gaped. “Their chests? Aren’t giants supposed to be three times as tall as me?”
“That is correct.” Dror’Khanik replied, matter-of-factly.
“Then how am I supposed to reach their chests?” she asked, incredulous.
“I am confident you have the creativity and intelligence to figure that out on your own,” the dragon said, his voice tinged with amusement. “That said, we have time for one question. Choose wisely.”
Erica paused, letting his words settle. There was one question that loomed above all others. “What will happen to Molly’s body? Won’t she need it to come back?” she asked quietly.
“Yes, I will ensure it is preserved. Do not worry—I will not allow the doctors to defile her corpse in their pursuit of knowledge,” Dror’Khanik reassured her, easing at least one of her many fears.
For a while, Erica walked in silence, her thoughts swirling like leaves in the wind. She stared at her arm, still struggling to accept what had happened. She questioned what she had gotten herself into, but something deep within reminded her that if a dragon believed in her, perhaps she could find it in herself to believe as well.
Inspecting her arm more closely, she noticed parts of the outer layer flaking off. Worry and curiosity mixed as she hesitated, then carefully pulled at one of the loose pieces. It came away easily—a thin shard of material that looked like stone but felt more like the texture of a horse’s hoof. She debated whether to pick at the other flakes but decided against it, afraid of disrupting whatever magic Dror’Khanik had woven into her. Magic was a foreign and incomprehensible concept to her, more baffling than even the most convoluted jargon she’d ever heard from the doctors.
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Despite her anxiety, she couldn’t help but find her new arm strangely fascinating. As she flexed her fingers, the cracks shifted, revealing more or less of the glowing light within depending on her movements. It was mesmerizing, almost beautiful in its own way. Her admiration was cut short by the rumbling of her stomach, reminding her that it had been over a day since she’d last eaten.
With careful steps, Erica continued north, her mind trying to piece together a plan. If I can pull this off, how hard can the rest of the journey be? she thought, though the practicality of convincing giants to help her seemed increasingly impossible. She glanced at a nearby tree. Maybe I could climb it and throw myself at one of them? She sighed, shaking her head. Am I really that stupid and suicidal?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a pair of tiny, beady eyes staring at her from a tree branch. A squirrel screamed angrily at her before darting away. Despite the rude gesture, Erica couldn’t help but smile. For a brief moment, she saw Molly’s glittering eyes and wide, amazed smile in her mind. She imagined her daughter seeing a squirrel for the first time, her excitement bubbling over as she begged to keep it as a pet. The thought was bittersweet, warming Erica’s heart even as it tightened with grief. She missed Molly so much it hurt, but that memory filled her with renewed determination. She had to keep moving forward. Even if it meant facing dangers conjured from one of the fairy tales Molly loved so much.
The ground soon showed signs of disturbance—massive footprints, each almost as large as Erica’s entire body. Anxiety gripped her as she continued, the forest becoming more and more ravaged the further she went. To her right, she noticed a cluster of destroyed trees, one ripped straight from the ground. A pool of blood stained the thick moss nearby, and she could still taste the blood in the air. Erica swallowed nervously, wiping sweat from her brow as she pressed on, step by cautious step.
Not far ahead, a strange humming reached her ears—a haunting, melodic tune unlike anything she’d ever heard. Peeking into a clearing, she froze. Before her stood two giants.
The first sat casually on a massive oak tree that had been uprooted and laid out like an oversized bench. He was drawing something in the dirt with a stick that was taller than Erica herself. The second was crouched over the carcass of a large boar, laughing as he ripped its tusks free with ease. Both wore patchwork clothing made of animal furs stitched together in a crude, unprofessional manner. The pelts seemed to belong to creatures she couldn’t recognize, which likely made them the monsters of the continent the giants hailed from.
Erica’s entire body tensed as she took in their size. She had known giants were large, but seeing them up close was a different reality. The first one was at least six meters tall, and the second was even taller. Compared to these massive creatures, Erica felt like an insect. The thought of one of them stepping on her and turning her into porridge made her stomach churn.
“Go forth. I will protect you,” Dror’Khanik’s voice whispered. A sudden gust of wind pushed against Erica’s back, forcing her legs to move a few hesitant steps forward.
“I-I can’t do this,” she thought, her own voice trembling as it echoed in her head.
“You are mistaken,” Dror’Khanik replied, his tone unwavering. “You possess the strength to topple mountains if you truly wish. All you must do is believe—believe in yourself, as well as in me.” The familiar warmth of his presence brushed against her back like a soothing flame.
“There’s no way…” Erica muttered, only to realize with horror that she had said the words out loud. Both giants turned to face her, their colossal forms moving towards her in a pace she knew she could not outrun. Panic spread through her body like wildfire as she imagined the countless ways these monsters could kill her.
“No… no, no, no,” she whispered to herself, backing away in fear. The giants approached, their expressions strangely gentle—almost like someone looking at a lost puppy—but all Erica could see were the wicked grins of predators preparing to strike.
She stumbled backward, trying desperately to run, but her body refused to obey. Her lungs felt tight, her breaths shallow, as though the very air had turned against her. The giants spoke to one another, but Erica couldn’t make out their words. All she could hear was the deafening ring that echoed in her head, drowning out the world around her. For a moment, everything went blank—thoughts, senses, even fear—until the crushing weight of hopelessness surrounded her like a suffocating fog.
The first giant’s massive hand reached out toward her, its enormous fingers curling as it closed the distance. Instinct finally broke through the paralysis gripping her mind. She turned to run, but it was too late. The giant’s colossal hand enveloped her frail body, lifting her off the ground as though she weighed nothing.
She screamed, kicking and thrashing with everything she had, but the giant only laughed—a booming, guttural sound that made her blood run cold. It shook her gently, as though amused by her frantic struggles, before turning to its companion and saying something in its deep, incomprehensible language. The second giant merely shook its head, as the first brought Erica closer to its face, tilting its massive head as though trying to discern what kind of creature it had captured.
“Do not fear, for I am your strength.” Dror’Khanik’s voice echoed in her mind, calm and steady, cutting through her panic.
The words barely registered before the giant let out a deafening scream. Reflexively, it released its crushing grip, its massive palm blistered and charred by an intense heat that Erica herself couldn’t feel.
She struck the giant’s chest with a jarring thud, her momentum sending her sliding downward. Her hands briefly skimmed across its thick, leathery flesh before she bounced off its massive belly and tumbled toward the ground. The fall ended with a bone-rattling impact, the force driving the air from her lungs.
Pain rippled through her ribs and limbs, sharp and unrelenting, as she lay sprawled on the ground. She groaned, each breath a struggle, her body too battered to respond to her desperate will to move. The world around her blurred, the ache in her chest and limbs consuming her every thought.
She glanced down at the giant’s feet, only to notice a strange sludge seeping from the ground and enveloping them. The ashen-colored, thick, slimy substance began crawling up the giant’s body, prompting an ear-shattering scream.
A faint crackling sound, reminiscent of frying bacon, reached her ears as the sludge burned away the giant’s flesh. Frozen in place, she could only watch as the giant desperately tried to pull the sludge off itself, only for it to cling to its hands and spread even faster.
Adrenaline surged through her, breaking her paralysis, and she stumbled to her feet. Panic and confusion merged into a single command in her mind: Run.
“Do not run straight—take at least four steps to the right,” Dror’Khanik’s voice instructed. She obeyed without hesitation, narrowly dodging the massive foot of another giant as it slammed into the ground beside her. The force of the stomp sent tremors rippling through the earth. Looking up, her gaze met the furious eyes of the second giant, which shouted something in their foreign language. It leaned forward as if to grab her but was distracted by the agonized screams of its companion. Taking advantage of the moment, she stumbled farther away. The second giant, meanwhile, turned toward its fallen ally, who was now on its knees, desperately clawing at the sludge crawling over its shoulders.
In a futile attempt to help, the second giant leaned closer, trying to pull the sludge off its comrade. The substance, however, slithered out of its grasp like living, elusive jelly.
“The substance will not harm you. If you act quickly, you can climb the first giant while the second is distracted,” Dror’Khanik advised, snapping Erica out of her stupor. Still, fear and pain overwhelmed her, keeping her rooted in place.
“Go!” Dror’Khanik’s command thundered in her mind, and something deep within her stirred. The pain dulled, replaced by a surge of strength, just as it had back at the Willowcreek medical center.
She sprinted toward the first giant, throwing herself against its massive shin. The sludge recoiled at her touch, shifting aside to expose patches of charred, uneven flesh beneath. Digging her fingers into the burnt tissue, she began to climb, her hands slipping slightly against the rough surface.
As she ascended, her gaze darted toward the second giant, which continued its desperate attempts to pull the sludge from its companion. The first giant, however, had gone still, its body almost entirely consumed by the creeping substance.
Reaching the monster’s thigh, Erica paused, startled by a despairing wail that sent chills racing down her spine. With a thunderous crash, the second giant collapsed to its knees, its anguish etched deeply into its face. For a moment, Erica froze, transfixed by the sheer depth of the creature’s grief.
“Act now, or it will kill you,” Dror’Khanik urged.
Pushing aside her hesitation, she leaped onto the second giant’s lap and scrambled toward its chest. Her hand pressed against the lower part of its ribs just as its massive fingers closed around her. A bone-crushing squeeze followed, and she heard the sickening crack of her ribs. She screamed in agony as the giant rose to its full height, sludge already seeping from the ground beneath its feet. Its grip tightened, cutting off her breath. Her vision blurred, and darkness began to encroach.
“Molly... I’m sorry...” she thought as consciousness slipped away.
Suddenly, the pressure around her chest disappeared. She was jolted back to reality by the impact of the giant’s hand slamming into the ground. Gasping for air, she found herself lying in its open palm. The giant’s arm had been severed at the shoulder, its dismemberment executed by an enormous, ashen-gray greatsword. Rising above her was the first giant, now encased in hardened ashen armor formed by the sludge. The weapon in its hand was an extension of the same substance, molded into a fearsome blade.
The second giant bellowed in rage as the armored figure tackled it to the ground, pinning it as the sludge crept over its body.
Erica staggered to her feet, trembling from both the pain and the realization that she was still alive. Step by agonizing step, she backed away from the two massive figures, stopping only when she felt she was far enough to be out of immediate danger. While attempting to catch her breath she watched the giant's one-sided struggle, desperately trying to wrap her head around what was happening.
The ground trembled behind her. Turning, she saw a third giant charging toward her, its furious eyes locked on hers. It slammed a massive hand into the ground, pinning her between its palm and the dirt. Before she could cry out, its head was cleaved in two. The armored giant had intervened, delivering a single, devastating blow that split the attacker from crown to jaw. Blood, thick and warm, rained down on Erica as the armored figure yanked its blade free from the corpse.
Overwhelmed by fear and shock, Erica broke into uncontrollable sobs. Snot and tears ran down her face as the armored giant steadied the collapsing body of its fallen foe, preventing it from crushing her.
“There is still time. Touch its chest before his heart stops beating,” Dror’Khanik urged.
Her massive, armored soldier held the dead giant’s body upright, blood dripping steadily from the gaping wound in its head, pooling on the ground behind her. Lowering the lifeless giant as close to the ground as possible without endangering her, it gave Erica the chance she needed.
With trembling limbs, she forced herself to rise to her knees and pressed her hand against the dead giant’s chest. The sludge responded instantly, seeping up from the ground to envelop the body.
Exhausted and battered, Erica crawled toward a nearby tree. Leaning against it, she gasped for breath as the pain from her broken ribs flared, overwhelming her with each shallow inhale.
“You did well,” Dror’Khanik’s voice echoed in her mind. The pain in her chest eased slightly as his words entered her mind, but she found herself unable to respond.
After a moment of silence, the dragon continued. “I can sense your unease and doubts over what just transpired. These giants were scouts. I lured them here with promises of greater knowledge of their enemy’s territory. Even without my assistance they would have come to these lands. Had they returned to their homeland, it would have meant war—a war your people could not win. Today, you altered the course of history. You vanquished three monsters that sought to bring ruin to this land, and in doing so, you gained three mighty warriors who will obey your every command. Such a feat might even be admired by your daughter’s storybook heroes.”
Though his words offered some reassurance, a lingering fear took root deep within her. As she gazed at the transformed giants, a numbness began to spread through her. The fear ebbed, replaced by a heavy exhaustion—mental, physical, and emotional.
The first giant stood motionless, awaiting orders. The second slowly rose to its feet, now clad in ashen armor, wielding a massive sword in its remaining hand. The third lay lifeless on the ground, its bisected skull partially mended by the sludge. In her haze of fatigue, one question echoed in her mind: What have I gotten myself into?