Chapter 14: The Nexus Unveiled
Queen Lyria Valen II felt the wind bite against her cheeks as Aurora cut through the sky, the dragon’s wings beating with the rhythm of a storm given life. The sun glinted off herdawn-hued scales, throwing radiant shards of light across the Dragonspire Mountains. Lyria’s cloak billowed in the wind, heavy with the scent of mountain air and the soft, unyielding whisper of approaching destiny.
From above, the jagged peaks jutted toward the heavens, daring the sky itself to descend and meet them. Each peak held a different tale of survival and defiance, weathered and ancient. But even the smallest of the mountains in this range, to which Aurora now descended, dominated the sky, shadowed only by its taller, prouder siblings. Aurora’s wings folded in as she spiraled downward, cutting through clouds that parted in reverence.
The great beast’s talons sank into the rock with a force that sent snow and boulders skittering down the slope, yet her landing was smooth, a testament to centuries of flight. Lyria leaned forward, her fingers brushing against the warmth of Aurora’s scales, and whispered her gratitude. The dragon rumbled, a soft purr reverberating through her bones.
Lyria dismounted gracefully, the years of regining alongside her dragon lending her an elegance that masked the harsh weight of a century of ruling. Standing there in her gleaming armor, with her golden hair woven in a coronet, she was not just a queen but a living symbol of Valior’s unbroken spirit. And as her boots crunched into the thin, brittle frost, her piercing blue eyes found a familiar face.
Lady Dagna Runeweaver, the Master Runesmith and Dwarven Queen, stood waiting. Her flame-colored hair was bound in complex braids, threaded through with runic charms that glinted in the light. Her stout frame was adorned in elegant smithing leathers, and her bright eyes shone with joy. Lyria barely had time to draw breath before Dagna had thrown herself forward.
The two queens embraced, their laughter mingling with the mountain winds. Dagna smelled of molten metal and aged parchment, a scent so familiar to Lyria it brought a pang of nostalgia. A bond had grown between them through a century of shared triumphs and sorrows—a sisterhood forged in the crucible of ruling two mighty realms side by side.
Dagna leaned back, squinting up at Aurora. The dragon lowered her mighty head, eyes glinting like twin suns. The dwarven queen stretched onto her tiptoes, reaching up in an attempt to scratch Aurora’s snout. She failed, her fingers just brushing air.
“By the molten heart of the earth,” Dagna muttered, scowling in mock irritation. “It’s unfair that a dragon four centuries old should have grown so much in just half a decade. You’re too enormous, Aurora! You’ll make me feel even smaller.”
Aurora’s deep, rumbling chuckle reverberated through the air. She exchanged a smile with her dragon, affection blooming between them as Aurora’s rich voice filled the air, “A dwarf and a dragon of equal size? Imagine that chaos.“
Finding herself grinning, Lyanna found the heavy mantle of rulership slipping for a brief, treasured moment.
“So, tell me, what has driven you to summon me here, halfway up a mountain, away from the chaos of my court? I assume this has everything to do with your ‘Kairos Initiative’?” She raised an eyebrow, her tone playful but her heart already racing. Dagna had been consumed by the project, whispering of miracles in runecraft and the marriage of magic and mechanics.
Dagna’s grin widened, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, you know me too well. We’ve finally succeeded, Lyria.” Her voice lowered with awe. “All those decades, all the sweat and knowledge poured into this… the culmination of centuries of innovation. But I won’t waste your time with just talk.” She inclined her head apologetically to Aurora.
“Forgive me, mighty one, but the halls of Oculus are far too small for a dragon as massive as you. You’ll have to watch through your bond”
Aurora’s presence pressed gently into the back of Lyria’s mind, a familiar, comforting warmth that settled her thoughts. “I’ll be with you, Lyria,” her voice whispered, soothing as wind. Loud enough for only Lyria to hear. “Go and see what our brilliant smiths and mages have wrought.”
With a final pat on Aurora’s snout, Lyria followed Dagna through the stone archway that marked the entrance into the mountain. The doorway was hewn from rock, intricately carved with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with captured essence. Human and dwarven guards flanked the passage, their armor gleaming, their weapons at the ready. Each saluted the queens, their movements disciplined and proud.
Lyria walked through the halls with practiced grace, yet curiosity burned within her, eager and impatient. Doorways lined the walls, leading to homes and chambers carved into the living rock. The mountain itself had become a city, a hive of mages, scholars, and warriors united under the banner of the Kairos Initiative.
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She turned to Dagna, her voice curious. “What design did you finally settle on, then? Last I heard, your runesmiths were at war with the knowledge mages over every single detail.”
Dagna’s grin returned, full of impish delight.
“We designed essence containers that can channel four distinct essence types.” she said, her hands gestured excitedly, as if she could conjure diagrams from the air. “Two types to form the ‘counting essence,’ their ratio determining the numbers inside. And the opposite two can be channeled in to obliterate one of the essences, changing the ratio and allowing us to perform calculations.”
That made Lyria’s eyebrows rise. She knew the complexity this must have entailed. “And these containers… how many are we speaking of?”
“Tens of thousands,” Dagna replied. “Each knowledge mage handles groups of twenty, with over five hundred knowledge mages assigned to this infernal project.”
Lyria's expression sobered. “And that leaves my kingdom with barely twenty-eight knowledge mages to keep it running.” Though her voice was steady, a hint of weariness colored the words. The sacrifices had been hard but necessary, a bitter draft she had swallowed willingly. Even if it meant constantly managing the knowledge mages she had daily.
Dagna let out a heavy sigh, her usual bravado dimming for a moment. “Aye, needed it was, and there’s no dodging that. Even the Seers, bless their ominous hearts, had to step in. They fill in where our knowledge hits a wall, their visions stitching together what we can’t see ourselves. Fills me with dread and awe in equal measure, I tell you.”
Her hands danced as she spoke, rough and calloused fingers sketching out runes in the air. “The runes were the easy part, believe it or not,” she continued, her voice taking on that familiar, feverish excitement.
“No, it was the damn alloys that nearly sent us all to early graves. Four whole new alloys, each stubbornly attuned to a different essence type. Took years of bashing, melting, and swearing to get them right, so the essence would flow through like it was made for it, smooth as honey over warm bread. And not just that—each one lets the runes gather essence from the air itself, soaking it up straight from the mountain. We’ve finally managed to rely less on those blasted essence crystals.”
Dagna’s eyes twinkled, a mix of pride and exhaustion. “I swear, if I have to smell molten metal one more time, Lyria, I’ll scream and turn to stone.”
Lyria let out an unladylike snort, her blue eyes dancing with mirth. “Please. Like that will ever happen. You’ll probably die in the forges, chisel in hand, engraving runes with your last breath.”
Dagna let out a bark of laughter, her whole body shaking with it. “Aye, and then you’d be forced to build a shrine in my honor. ‘Here lies Lady Dagna Runeweaver, who loved molten metal more than her own sanity.’”
Lyria grinned. “I’ll make sure the epitaph is suitably dramatic, I promise. Maybe inlaid with a bit of molten gold. Just for you.”
“Good,” Dagna replied, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “You know I would haunt you if the decor is distasteful.”
Their path led them to a pair of monumental doors, carved with scenes of old alliances and ancient wars. Dagna gestured, and the doors swung open with a creaking groan. Lyria’s breath caught at the sight revealed within.
The cavernous room stretched out before her, a seemingly endless expanse carved into the mountain’s heart. It was vast enough that even from the entryway, she could barely make out its far walls. Row upon row of towering bookshelves lined the sides, each shelf laden with ancient tomes and scrolls. Mages stood in silent concentration before these shelves, surrounded by rows of glowing cylinders, their surfaces thrumming with runes that pulsed in rhythm with the essence held within.
But it was not the devices that captivated her.
Lava cascaded in slow, graceful falls from the ceiling into pools that glowed like liquid suns. Streams of crystal-clear water fell with tremendous force, splashing into basins with a sound like singing bells. In every crevice and ledge, plants of impossible resilience grew, their leaves a fierce green against the gray stone, thriving even in the thin mountain air. Massive fans, etched with runes, rotated slowly overhead, their blades channeling the hot and cool air in delicate harmony.
Lyria felt the press of the essence in the air, thick as an invisible fog settling on her skin. It bore down on her with a weight that was both exhilarating and exhausting, like standing beneath the sea and marveling at its vastness.
“By the light of Aurora,” she whispered, awestruck. “The lava, the water, the plants… They’re meant to heighten the essence density, to give the devices easier access to power.”
Dagna nodded, pride softening her gaze. “The Kairos Initiative needed power beyond measure. We are bleeding the mountain dry for it, made it cry out essence in abundance. Anything less wouldn’t have been enough.”
Just then, a burst of cheering erupted, mages crying out in triumph as something unseen completed successfully. Lyria exchanged a pleased smile with Dagna, the two sisters-in-arms reveling in their shared victory.
They shared small talk, but before long, an elderly dwarf approached, his beard braided with beads of obsidian. He bowed deeply and handed a parchment to Dagna. Her brows furrowed as she read, the joy fading from her face. Lyria waited patiently, even as the moments seemed to drag on.
When Dagna looked up, her voice was grim. “The first predictions are in. The Beast Tide will begin within the week. A small one, unremarkable. But…” She hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “If we give the Seers permission to alter the values in the system… And they are right—”
Her gaze locked with Lyria’s, a storm of worry brewing behind her eyes. “Everything changes,” she said, each word hammered out like a curse. “The timeline collapses. We’ll have the Tide barreling down on us within the hour. And it won’t be some meager spat of beasts. It’ll be the biggest damned wave of monsters the world has seen since the Fall.”