THORVAK (DWARVES)
The real king roars.
“SHUT UP!” – His runic energy fills the chamber, a crushing pressure that bears down on everyone present. I step down from the table without him needing to say a word. In that moment, he has reminded me of my place: I am no king in these tunnels, no matter how fleeting my illusion of authority might have been.
“Leave. All of you. Except for you.” His tone is imperious, his gaze fixed on me like a hammer poised to strike. I offer him a faint smile, though the knot of tension in my stomach tightens instead of loosening as the others file out. It swells with every departing dwarf, leaving me alone with the man whose authority I had so brazenly tested. As if to emphasize the point, Durmar climbs onto the table where I had been standing moments before, positioning himself above me. His boots settle heavily where my pride had been. Now, I stand below, looking up at him—at his feet. He waits in silence until the last dwarf leaves.
Bran hesitates, glancing back, but the others drag him away, leaving me alone with the king. The council’s earlier uproar has given way to whispers in the corridors—some angry over the perceived insults hurled by the humans, others livid that I, of all dwarves, have been granted a private audience with Durmar.
The king’s voice slices through the silence, cold and cutting.
“What a fine actor you are.” His words drip with contempt. “The real issue, Thorvak, the real danger you’ve brought to our doorstep, is the Inquisition!”
I try to mutter a response, but he interrupts with a sharp gesture and leaps from the table, landing heavily on the cold stone floor. He steps forward until he is only inches from my face.
“Young cousin. Fool that you are!” he spits, droplets flying despite his long beard absorbing most of it. “You know nothing of this order!” His sudden shift from anger to an almost primal fear unsettles me. Could I have made a mistake by alienating them?
“My king!” I protest, my voice more defensive than I’d like. “The Inquisition intended to claim the entire forest! Surely you understand we couldn’t allow that…”
He knows this, of course. The forest is not just a patch of land; it’s a vital lifeline. The precious earth oil that powers our machines, our forges, and even the lamps that light our endless tunnels isn’t infinite. And wood—wood doesn’t grow underground. It fuels our forges, or even in the charcoal kilns when the mines fail to produce enough, it sustains us in ways that stone and steel cannot. Losing the forest would be catastrophic.
Durmar turns away, pacing like a restless lion. “Why now…? Why did this have to happen now?” His voice is heavy, as though the weight of centuries rests upon it. “For so long, everyone took only what they needed. The humans hunted in the north, we harvested wood where we pleased. The great dragon slumbered, and the Inquisition stayed far away in their damned mountains. But now… now everything is broken.”
He spins back toward me, his anger giving way to a cold, resolute determination. “We must prepare for war, Thorvak. Do you understand what that means? It means arming our best warriors. It means abandoning the deepest tunnels, leaving the Abyss unguarded. It means risking everything to fight an enemy you don’t even comprehend.”
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His words strike me like a hammer blow. I want to respond, but what can I say? The truth is, I know nothing about the Inquisition. Their shadow looms over every tale, every warning passed down through the ages, but they remain a mystery. Even our elders refuse to speak of them openly.
Durmar softens his tone but not his gaze. “You’ve stirred a hornet’s nest, Thorvak. And now you must face the consequences.” He gestures for me to sit, and I obey. “Tell me everything,” he commands. “Every detail about the forest, the dragon, and this accursed cataclysm.”
I recount everything: the miles of scorched earth, the fields of twisted metal, the shattered remains of structures that defy understanding. I describe the dragon’s crater, its weakened state. His expression darkens as I speak, especially when I mention the debris the debris embedded in its flesh and its morbid condition. His thoughts are plain; I know what he’s considering. Killing the dragon may be our only chance to push back the Inquisition. But at what cost?
When I finish, he falls silent, lost in thought. Finally, he speaks, his voice heavy with a mix of fear and conviction.
“Over two centuries ago, the Inquisition marched into that forest,” he begins. “Not with a few soldiers, as you described, but with legions. Do you know what it feels like to hear their drums? To see their abominations, their Baldakaïs, tearing through the land? My father told me of the terror—of entire kingdoms reduced to ash in their wake. The Inquisition didn’t just ravage Elbak; they destroyed everything in their path.”
I swallow hard, his words sinking in like lead.
“Why?” I ask. “Why would they come here, only to leave? Why return now?”
“Because of the dragons,” he replies. “When they first came to this forest, the Inquisition used their presence as an excuse. They claimed the dragon was the cause of the destruction. But it wasn’t. It was them. They fought a war to justify their annihilation. And they won.”
They? Dragons?
He pauses, his gaze distant, as though seeing ghosts from centuries past.
“They killed its parents, Thorvak. Two full-grown dragons, slain by their legions. Their corpses were taken to the mountains of Kor Morne, to their cursed citadel. Perhaps they left the current dragon alive on purpose. Or perhaps it escaped. But make no mistake: they will come for it. And they will come for us if we oppose !”
His words leave me reeling. If the Inquisition could destroy two adult dragons… what chance do we have? For the first time, I wonder if I’ve doomed us all. Have I signed our death warrant by provoking them?
The king’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts.
“Prepare yourself, Thorvak. If we can't stop escalating, war is going to tear every dwarf of our kingdom..."
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ALBION (HUMANS)
My uneasiness hasn’t declined at all, but at least I’m relieved by the sight in front of me. We’ve arrived at the edge of the debris zone. The light here is more useful, no longer blocked by the towering treetops that sink into the night. That doesn’t make the scene before us any more pleasant. The serpents of light in the sky cast diffuse, shifting flows. We’ll need to stay alert.
This area is ours. For the night, at least. Until Kael comes back. Along with the leaders of the smaller groups that have joined mine, we begin organizing ourselves. Groboln and the mages will provide illumination with their magic, staying at the center. The rest divide into scavengers and lookouts.
We search. Some pieces of metal seem more valuable than others—strange colored wires filled with a reddish metal, maybe copper, protrude from a box I found. Two colleagues are working relentlessly on one of those metal sarcophagi, trying to open it, but to no avail.
Then, I see a shape—a movement—and this time, I’m certain. There’s someone here!