Atop a plateau, high above the forest, three bolts of lightning struck. From each emerged a wizard, two with silver-trimmed robes and the third with gold.
The plateau was a haven for the smaller plants and animals that struggled to compete in the supersized forest below, and was populated by grass, small trees and flowering bushes. A single redwood grew near the northern edge, its thick roots wrapped around the plateau like a protective but clinging embrace. Between the roots, shielded from the storm at the base of the tree, was a huge nest built from hefty stones and a few branches.
The wizards approached the nest, but stopped short.
"Reveal yourselves," the gold-trimmed wizard commanded.
Three Agents of Morose, each wearing dark robes and brass masks with tearful, frowning faces, shimmered into view between the wizards and the nest.
"This egg is not yours to take," said the agent with a black tear drop on either cheek of his mask.
"Morose observes," the wizard countered, "they don't interfere on the battlefield."
"They do, however, manage affairs," the agent replied, "and a series of deals for this egg have already been brokered."
"Morose would not be the first demigod The Mandate has put in their place," the wizard snarled, "step aside."
"Demigod?" the agent asked, though his face was hidden, his amused smile could be heard through his voice, "I'm afraid you'll regret calling them that."
The wizard thrust his hand forward, three bolts of lightning erupted from his fingertips and flashing towards the Agents of Morose. Each one struck, and their dark robes dropped to the ground as if the bodies inside -- and the masks they were wearing -- had evaporated. A short, deep giggle echoed from the air around them.
"Bastard tricksters," the wizard spat on the ground after he spoke, then stormed towards the tree.
He climbed onto one of the roots to peer down into the nest. Nestled inside it was a sandy-brown egg with a texture like scales, it was easily the size of a large man's torso. He dropped down into the nest, one of his companions following behind him while the other stood guard on the root overhead.
The wizard smiled as he reached out to touch the egg. As his finger touched the scaly surface, the egg exploded. The shell ruptured like shrapnel, the wizard in gold-trimmed robes was thrown backwards against the roots by the blast while his lower rank companion beside him was shredded and instantly killed by the shrapnel.
"Perhaps," a merry, disembodied voice spoke from all around, "Morose sometimes meddles."
The gold-trimmed wizard screamed in rage as loud as his Titan lungs allowed, the echoes cracking through the skies like thunder. When he finished, he sat there in a bloody heap, heaving for breath. The shrapnel had shredded muscles across his body, while the blast had shattered bones. It would take him days to heal these wounds.
"Find the egg," he hissed through gritted teeth.
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The silver-trimmed wizard atop the roots steeled his expression of horror and nodded, "yes, master."
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Iris was frozen in shock and fear. She watched as a large wizard grabbed Ash Druga by the throat with a hand that crackled with lightning, he lifted her from the ground while her body convulsed and her hammer clattered to the ground. She saw the Dreamweaver overrun by wizards, countless bolts of lightning struck her yet she stood strong. Each time she reached out a hand towards a wizard, they bled from their eyes and collapsed.
Iris jolted as Victoria half-materialized on the branch beside her and spoke, "we need to move!"
"It's them!" Iris said, "The wizards from--"
Victoria had already dematerialized back into mist, and was drifting away from the battle. Iris gave one more horrified look at the scene, then blipped after her. She soon spotted other adventurers moving in the same direction as they fled to the north. Progress was at first slowed by a stretch of freshly woven webs, but it wasn't long before she reached the edge of the Matriarch's domain. The dark, oppressive woods felt like an open field compared to the web, and Iris relished in the freedom to run faster and blip freely.
She stopped on a branch when her path brought her to the base of a cliff that rose abruptly from the forest floor, the roots of redwoods bunching up against it and even punching into the stone. She glanced to either side to consider which way she should go, and found herself alone. The storm still raged, thunder still roared from the sky and from within the woods themselves, and Iris truly had no idea where she was. For the moment, though, she had time to breathe and think.
She gazed up at the cliff face between a crack in the canopy. The grey stone wall extended up and disappeared into the heavy rains. She frowned at a dark grey shape appearing in the rain, just in front of the cliff. Something was falling. Eyes grew wider as the shape grew larger, and she blipped back to dodge it. A large ovoid stone fell through the canopy, cracking small branches before bouncing off a larger one. It bounced off two more branches before landing in the groove between two smooshed-together roots, then rolled along their length until they spit. It landed gently on the ground, where it rolled a short ways further, then wobbled for a moment before coming to rest.
Iris stared at it. It was a very strange looking rock; large, roughly textured, and perfectly shaped like an egg. She looked back up towards the cliff face, then back to the egg, as she recalled the Wyvern's egg was an important goal of that gruff looking Commander's expedition.
"Surely not," she said quietly to herself.
The bottomless bag at her waist loosened itself until its mouth drooped open.
"There's no way that thing is what it looks like," she looked down to respond to the bag.
The bag said nothing.
After a moment of hesitation, she blipped closer, then to the ground beside the object. It was larger than her torso, and the sandy-brown surface was textured like scales. Cautiously, she reached out to feel it. The shell felt thick and strong, which explained how it survived the fall -- that, and the ridiculous amount of luck it must have needed not to plummet directly into the ground. The egg was warm to the touch, and after a moment of focusing she could faintly sense a powerful aura within it. She imagined that to someone with more practiced senses, the aura would be obvious.
She was certain the lightning wizards were here to take the Wyvern, like they'd taken the giant walking tree in her dream. It stood to reason that if the egg were really so important to the commander, then the wizards would probably want it too. Self preservation told her to leave it where it was and pretend she had never seen it, but something else -- that same nagging urge in her brain that told her to take leaps she might not make and fight battles she might not win -- that something told her to take the egg and run.
"If you ever meet a wizard, best stay out of their business," her mother had once paused a story book to advise a young Iris, "nothing good ever comes from wizard business."
Iris looked down at her bottomless bag, both ends of the draw string were desperately reaching for the egg like a child grabbing at a toy. She closed her eyes, slumped her shoulders and threw her head back, letting the rain hit her face instead of the brim of her hat.
"Why do I never make good decisions?" she asked no one.