Driven away from her only lead at knifepoint, Ilya escaped to the opposite corner of the establishment, where she now sat at a lonely table, dejectedly hugging her knees to her chest. The table was probably an extra, tucked away under the stairs to the second floor alongside a multitude of unused ale barrels. The shadows they cast over her were comforting, but did little to alleviate the frustration of failure.
In retrospect, just walking up and asking someone for help had never once worked out, it was silly to try. Taking even the smallest moment to stop and think would have immediately reminded her of this fact, but her enthusiasm to impress her Queen overpowered all.
She was back at square one. Even if that woman was lying about not being a thief, Ilya doubted she would give her another chance.
“You alright?”
Her disappointed pouting was interrupted by a deep voice. A large man in shimmering silver armour had approached, and now stood in front of her wearing a concerned frown. He looked superficially human, but was of larger build than any human man or woman Ilya had ever seen- he had to bend somewhat as to not hit his head on the stairs.
“We heard that girl shouting at you.” A willowy woman with a big purple hat leaned out from behind the man’s huge torso, her long straight hair nearly touching the floor. “I’m sorry about her, I think she’s like that with everyone.”
Yet another person leaned out, this one recognizable to Ilya as one of the many archers Bearwood was lousy with. “I’ve never seen her with a party” He said, fiddling with the pointed brim of his bycocket hat. “With an attitude like that it’s no wonder.”
“I’m sure she has her reasons- let’s not judge.” The big man chided with a side eye. “Enough about her though- I ask again: you alright?”
Ilya blinked in response- she had never been asked that by someone before. “I- I think so? She didn’t try to actually stab me- just threatened to.”
“She threatened to stab you?” A fourth voice suddenly said. Looking around for the source, Ilya found its owner sitting next to her at the table. She jumped; they weren’t there a second ago. “What could you have possibly said to make her do that?” They had a dark hood and mask covering their face and their voice was fairly androgynous, making it difficult to parse their gender.
“I think I was being too direct- I wanted her to teach me some things about thieving.” Ilya tucked her nose into her scarf and the pouting resumed. She needed to brainstorm some other way to obtain gold; the tiny pouch attached to her hip still wasn’t a good enough offering for her Lady on its own.
“What, like yoinking bread?” The hooded person beside her asked, kicking their feet up on the table and crossing their arms. “I’m a rogue, I could give you a few pointers.”
Ilya brushed the thief off without thinking- hyper focused on the exact wording of her orders. “No, no. My Lady was very specific: it has to be precious metals. I have to get this right.”
Their brows dipped in confusion. “Your Lady? Like some noblewoman?” They sounded like they were having a hard time understanding. What was so hard to understand? The orders were the easiest part- seeing them through was much harder. “What’s a noble doing commissioning street kids to steal for her? She running out of money or something?”
“No, she has a lot.” Ilya refuted with a small head shake, letting her legs dangle off the chair- still not meeting anyone’s eyes. Lady Visnavik’s hoard was an awe inspiring mountain of treasure- a mountain she was going to contribute to if only she could figure out how. “She just wants more.”
“What is she, a dragon? That sounds super greedy.” The archer joked, placing his bow down on the table and shooting her a cheeky grin.
“Don’t call her greedy!” Ilya objected, suddenly offended on Her Lady’s behalf. “It’s natural for a dragon to want a bigger hoard, so I’m-“ She froze, as did all present at the table.
She had said too much.
“That’s… that was a joke.” The archer’s grin slowly died on his face. “It was supposed to be.”
The thief slowly and deliberately removed their feet from the table, uncrossing their arms and turning in Ilya’s direction.
The lady with the big hat just stared, saying nothing, eyebrows long since disappeared into her bangs.
The big man, without looking, grabbed a chair from somewhere behind him, sitting down heavily. “Kiddo…” He started after a long pause, expression serious. “Are you enslaved to a dragon?”
“No! N-Nononono!” She frantically denied, trying to salvage her blunder, but it was clear none of them believed her for a second. Worse, it seemed like her pathetic attempt at lying had instead confirmed their suspicions.
“What kind of dragon is she?” The thief asked, and when Ilya’s only response was to look away, their voice turned stern. “Listen kid, we’re adventurers, we can’t just let this slide. If there’s a wyvern nearby, we need to know so we can take care of it.”
‘These are adventurers?!’ Ilya knew of them: a guild of monster hunters, their members travelling all around the world defeating evil, but she’d never seen an adventurer in person. She didn’t know what she expected them to look like- the big man in silver probably fit best, but if the rest of the people in the building were also adventurers, then her internal image of one was probably wrong.
“I… I can’t…” She weakly refused, Them being adventurers made her loose lips an even larger problem. If they found out a black dragon was so close to their town, Lady Visnavik’s quiet swamp would never be quiet again- and it would be all her fault.
The lady with the big hat suddenly approached, kneeling down to her eye level and offering a warm smile. “Hello, I’m Eleanor.” She was very pretty, now that Ilya could see her closer. Long lashes fluttering over icy blue eyes, delicate pink lips that looked like flower petals, a body of soft curves; if this is what a woman was supposed looked like, then it was no wonder her harlot days were filled with such failure, she was but a child in comparison. “What’s your name, hon?”
“I-Ilya…” She stuttered, trying to shake off the feelings of inadequacy.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ilya.” Eleanor spoke her name with ease. “Do you think you could tell us about your Lady? I promise we won’t tell anyone.”
She shook her head in small rapid turns. “N-No. She might get angry if I tell you.”
Eleanor’s lips tilted down slightly, her thin brows sinking. “Does she get mean when she’s angry?” Her voice was serious. “Does she hurt you?”
“No! She would never hurt- well…” She instinctively denied before trailing off when she realized that wasn’t true. The quartet of adventurers shared a look- the damage was done.
In the moment of silence that followed, a mild tingle on her back drew Ilya’s attention to her shoulder. The warmth of a roof over her head made it much harder to notice, but at some point during her manic chasing, pouting, and over sharing, one of the engravings had activated.
Lady Visnavik was watching, and had been for a while.
Ilya’s nerves instantly spiked, her body frozen in place. Not only had she not yet completed her assigned task, she had outed Lady Visnavik’s existence to a bunch of adventurers who would now surely run off and try to slay her.
At the thought, an awful question whispered in her ear. Would her Lady think it was on purpose? Would she think her ungrateful slave had betrayed her to the humans? Ilya would rather cut off a finger than intentionally do such a thing, but to her Lady, maybe there was no difference. Her eyes glazed over. ‘Please no.’ She couldn’t go back to that life.
Eleanor noticed immediately and grabbed hold of her shoulders with a firm but gentle grip. “Listen, Ilya, It’s gonna be okay, nothing you tell us will get back to her- she’ll never know.”
She was wrong, she was so wrong. Her Lady was looking at her right now, of course she would know. She would know her slave was a failure and a dirty traitor that deserved to be cast aside like the trash she was.
“If you can lead us to her- me, Darius, Shane, Besa, we can free you.” Eleanor gave her a light squeeze. “We’re the strongest around: she’ll never hurt you again.”
If Ilya was capable of tears, they would already be flowing. She didn’t want to be freed, and she didn’t want to be cast aside either. She wanted to stay with her Lady forever- she wanted that swamp to remain her home for the rest of her life.
Seeing the girl’s haunted far off look, Eleanor slid her hands down Ilya’s arms to hold her cold and lifeless fingers. A stern glare was sent Darius’ way. ‘We’re doing this now.’
He responded with a succinct nod.
“Stay here with Eleanor, okay?” He said, bending down further to offer a smile. “We’re gonna go get our stuff.” His bottom canines were very large.
Watching the group walk away, rune of scrying still warm, Ilya’s eyes automatically locked in on the large coin pouches at their belts.
It was then the black dragon’s servant had an idea, and light returned to her eyes. There was still a chance this mission could end in praise and not banishment- she could still fix this.
The stories were unanimous: an ancient dragon could only be overcome by heroes, other ancients, or divine intervention. Without the power of any of those three, a group of adventurers stood no chance.
Her Lady would slaughter them, as she had done to countless others.
If she could withhold the right information, the four would carry themselves, and all their valuables, to their final resting place. Lady Visnavik would surely be pleased.
Then, another idea. “My Lady really, really, likes coins.” She spoke up, and Eleanor turned back to listen with a patient smile. “Maybe you can buy me from her?”
“We can try that if you like.” Eleanor accepted, patting the girls knee. “I haven’t collected the reward from our last quest yet; do you want to come with me to pick it up? We’ll bring it with us.”
Ilya nodded. The more stuff they brought on their suicide mission the better.
----------------------------------------
It took some finagling and glares from Eleanor, but eventually all the adventurers- and their gold, left the guild. The bouncer sent Ilya a confused look on the way out, but being surrounded by registered adventurers, he couldn’t really pull her aside as he seemed to want to do.
Perhaps she did need card after all.
“Gods, I was really hoping to get a drink after such a long time away from town.” Besa groaned, folding both hands behind their head as the five walked past a busy bar. “Now we gotta go hiking through the woods?”
“The Silver Dragon will be there when we get back.” Shane replied, matching their pose. “We have a real one to deal with.”
“And then I’ll buy drinks for all of us as a celebration.” Darius declared, somehow at the head of the group despite the giant silver tower shield strapped to his back.
“I don’t think Ilya’s old enough to drink.” A frown creased Eleanor’s soft face.
Besa scoffed. “This is Bearwood. You think they care about drinking age? They barely care about the age of consent.”
Eleanor’s face further scrunched up with disgust, but said nothing. Ilya didn’t know what either of those things were, but they must have been important to get her to make such an expression.
As soon as they made it out of the town, Eleanor began casting something. Ilya watched her free hand as it weaved the spell- she moved a lot more than Lady Visnavik did. She then looked to Shane who was also concentrating, though his hands were still.
The two finished at the same time, and the effect was instantly noticeable. Ilya didn’t feel like she was moving her legs any differently, but the forest’s edge approached far quicker than she remembered from her first journey out of town.
“[ Longstride ] and [ Windwalk ]- a ranger and aeromancer spell respectively.” Eleanor explained upon seeing Ilya’s confused face. “Both make you move faster with less effort, but they stack, so we usually cast them together.”
Aeromancer was a new word. It sounded like air and then man and sir- but Eleanor was a woman wasn’t she? She was a wizard of some kind too.
Ilya looked down at her feet, watching the ground zip by beneath her slow normal steps. Maybe the word meant wizard and only men used to be wizards.
‘Air wizard- much easier.’
Increased vocabulary aside, if they were in the mood for questions, then there was another she could ask. “Why do you move your hands more when you’re doing the same kind of spell as him?” She pointed at Shane.
The air wizard happily obliged. “Big gestures are usually required for spells, but if you’re either really good at magic or really used to that one spell you can choose to do smaller ones or even none at all.”
“I’m the latter.” Shane elaborated. “I’ve been using this spell since I was a boy.”
Was her Queen ‘really good’ at magic then? Ilya thought back to all the times she’d seen her Lady cast: always just a few quick movements with her fingers and the world obeyed her. Even that berry summoning spell, which Lady Visnavik had admitted to never having a use for before, was a quick pinch of five claws before pulling them apart.
Ilya still had one of that spell’s berries in her pocket; she would like to eat it at some point- they were very tasty.
The time eventually came when the group stopped a few hours in to give Ilya a break. Even with magical speed, she was still just her.
The fruit was just as sweet and filling as all the rest had been; it was a dearly needed comfort after nearly catastrophizing herself into catatonia. She tried her best to savour the little joy for as long as possible, but the berry eventually disintegrated into nothing, leaving her with only aching feet as company. Well, that wasn’t entirely true: she also had the bone of a dead person she could fiddle with.
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The party of adventurers was standing in a circle some distance away from the tree she sat against, laughing and chatting as a group. It was the same kind of camaraderie she had watched enviously from afar for years- one she would have done anything to find. Now though, after all that had happened, she didn’t feel that envy anymore- she didn’t feel much of anything.
“My Queen…” She whispered to nowhere, tracing the yet dull edge of the bone chisel with her finger. “Do you see my sacrifices to you? Does it show my loyalty?”
The mark on her back, which had been active for hours, suddenly cooled, only to quickly reactivate again. A response. Her Lady had actually acknowledged her question.
But what did the pulse mean? Did Lady Visnavik follow her plan? Was she pleased instead of angry?
Before she could ask any clarifying questions, Shane approached, abruptly forcing the end of the conversation. “What d’you got there?” He said, eyeing the snapped tibia in her hands.
“A bone.” Ilya replied, mildly irritated for the interruption. He didn’t need to know its origins.
Shane’s left eyebrow rose. “What for?”
She thought for a moment on how much to share, but ultimately decided on almost the whole truth- she was terrible at flat lies anyway. “I need something sharp so I can learn to carve wood. I thought a bone might work.”
Shane nodded along, leaning back against her tree. “Not a bad idea: find a random bone, break it, rub the edge against a rough surface for a while. Good enough for chiseling soft wood.”
Ilya sat up straighter, ears perked. So she was on the right track.
“But the wood of these things-“ He kicked the lesser ashwood tree behind them with the heel of his boot. “-is too tough for a bone chisel. As a new carver, it would probably just break if you tried.”
She deflated. ‘I guess not.’
A knife was suddenly drawn out from somewhere behind Shane’s back. Its blade was skinny, with a blunt rounded tip instead of the point Ilya though all blades had to have; the handle was a nice off-white colour- bone, she realized, glancing down at the object in her hands to compare.
“A better idea would be to get a nice steel blade and carve that bone into a handle for it- that’s what I did for this.” He held out the knife with both hands to show her the place where the handle and blade connected. “See that groove there? The blade slots in snug. Add a little true ash resin before you put it in and that baby will never come out.”
Ilya absorbed the new information greedily; the more she knew, the more tasks she could perform for her Lady.
First the magic lesson and now this: these adventurers were a wealth of knowledge. It was almost a shame to deceive them like this, but no matter how useful or helpful they were, no one could ever be as important to her as Lady Visnavik.
----------------------------------------
Besa had seen a lot during their time as an adventurer: powerful direbeasts, diabolical wyverns, plagues, famines, disasters both human made and otherwise.
They had never seen [ Longstride ] or [ Windwalk ] fail before, and never so suddenly.
The party had just entered the more muddy areas of the forest when their speed was abruptly shunted back to normal, causing everyone to stumble forward. It was only through the rogue’s boosted reflexes that they caught Ilya before she tumbled over into the muck.
“What is this? Why’d the spells stop?” Shane looked down to their still unsteady guide.
Ilya shrugged. “I dunno. I’m not a wizard or air-man-sir.”
“Aeromancer.” Eleanor corrected, but Ilya had already began sloshing ahead, presumably anxious to get the party to her captor.
Besa frowned beneath their mask: the feeling was mutual.
Ilya led them through the swamp, across felled trees, over deep pools, finally stopping at the edge of a steep muddy slope.
“She’s down there.” Their guide pointed. “The slide isn’t that good, you have to step at some points.” Ilya went first to demonstrate, sliding a lame distance before having to shuffle the rest of the way. Mimicking her technique got them down quickly at the cost of being sprayed with mud.
The sight at the bottom wasn’t pretty: numerous piles of bones sitting in foul smelling dark water, each seemingly sorted with care. The sheer number of bodies that comprised the piles was staggering, easily overshadowing the refuse dump of any monster they had ever fought.
“Ilya…” Besa started, old stories flashing behind their eyes. “Your Lady… she’s got four limbs right?”
The girl stopped, looking over her shoulder at her fellow thief. “Doesn’t everything? Well I guess bugs don’t but…” Her expression was confused, like the question didn’t make sense. After getting no reply back, Ilya continued walking, following an unnaturally clear path through the brush.
They didn’t demand a clear answer at the time, but upon reaching the end of the path, and the clearing it emptied into, they wish they had.
A truly gargantuan creature, covered head to tail in black scales, sat on an islet in the centre of the open space. It was holding a single gold coin between two sharp claws, eyeing the piece from multiple angles. Worryingly, it had five digits, and nowhere on the raised arm could the webbing of a wing be seen.
Besa paled, eyes widening. “That’s not a wyvern…”
The not-wyvern swivelled its head to greet them, soul piercing green eyes scanning each of the five until they at last fell upon its slave. Ilya met the beast’s gaze, flinching and averting her eyes instinctively before she forced herself to look back up. The eye contact lasted a few beats of the heart, and then the girl began to walk forward.
Besa wanted to reach out and stop her, but stunned as they were, their arms wouldn’t respond.
Ilya knelt down before her Lady and bowed low, entirely uncaring of the foul water and mud that now covered her. “My Queen, I’m back. I brought you what you asked.”
The ancient dragon had put down its coin as she approached and now sat with its forearms and hands planted flat against the ground. “Welcome back, slave. I have been watching your progress closely.”
Darius was the first to shake off the surprise, lifting his shield and pointing his sword towards his foe. “Chaos dragon! I am Paladin Darius, loyal to Order! Release this girl from your thrall or face the wrath of the gods!”
“No thank you.” Visnavik denied simply, as if the man was trying to sell her a necklace in a market and not trying to threaten her. “I am quite enjoying having a slave, and am very pleased with this one in particular- even more so now.”
Ilya shoulders quivered with the beast’s words, shaking like a leaf in a storm. The shivers expanded until her whole body began to violently vibrate.
“Ilya!” Eleanor cried, rushing to the girl’s side. Placing a firm hand on her shoulder to to try and stop the seizure, Eleanor found it wholly unhelpful. Jabbing her staff into the mud, she used both hands to pull the street rat up from her bow of supplication, but when her face was finally in view, the aeromancer gasped in horror.
Ilya’s mouth was frozen in a mad rictus, her grey eyes blown wide as her irises twitched around erratically. It was not an expression a poor orphan girl should have been capable of- it was the face of a madman. “W-What? What did you do to her!?
Visnavik cackled, a terrible sound that shook the soul. “Aside from breaking her in? Nothing! All of this is her alone.”
“Guys!? We’re locked in!” Shane called, bringing his party’s attention to the mouth of the clearing: where there once was a straight path out, now stood wall of thorns. Frantically looking to the tree line for another path found only more thorns, sprouting from nowhere to close off every form of egress. Shane and Besa swung at the thorn wall with their knives, only for each blow to bounce off uselessly with a woody thunk.
“You know, I only sent her to that town to steal coins from merchants.” Visnavik began, drinking in the growing panic as the adventurers realized the futility of escape. “I would have been perfectly happy with a couple dozen, but she decides ‘No! Not enough!’ and brings home hundreds- with four sacrifices to boot!” The laughter began anew as thorns began creeping inward from the edges of the clearing, growing over the shore and disappearing into the dark waters.
Rumbles beneath her feet bid Eleanor to rip her staff from the mud and blink out of the way just as a large vine tendril burst out of the water, splashing foul water up into the air where it then rained down upon them all.
“Slave.” The black dragon spoke, willing the vine to slap Ilya across her still smiling face. The thorns covering its surface cut into her cheek, leaving three bloody red lines.“Go hide in your corner.”
“Wha- oh.“ Ilya babbled, shocked out of her trance. “Yes, my Queen!” She leapt into action at the direct order, scurrying across the clearing to cower on a single piece of dry land that had been left untouched by the thorns. As soon as the girl sat down in her spot, the brambles returned to life, creating a spiky cage around her curled up form.
“So loyal, is she not?” Visnavik mocked. “Well, not to you, she betrayed you quite easily- but she adores me.” Eleanor’s heart clenched- she didn’t understand.
Another vine suddenly burst forth from the ground, taking the left while its twin took the right. They were trapped, surrounded, and betrayed: all they could do was fight.
“Now, shall we get to business?” It sneered at the party, showing row after row of pearly white teeth.
“Formation!” Darius called, and the four fell in line. Eleanor stood directly behind the paladin, gripping her staff with both hands as her soul called out for mana. Shane stood to her right, multiple arrows between his fingers and one already nocked, ready for rapid fire. Besa stood to her left, crouched low with a knife in one hand, and a multitude of tricks in the other.
Their enemy sat ahead, not even bothering to rise from its relaxed position. Even laying down it towered over them, its sickly green eyes filled with amusement as they looked down from on high.
“Lets go!”
The first vine slid across the ground, slamming into Darius’ shield with enough force to make even the mountainous paladin take a step back. “The shield of justice cannot be overcome!” He cried, bashing back with equal and opposite force.
Besa dashed in to assist, throwing a glass bottle which smashed against bark, releasing the contents within. The next trick was thrown just as quickly as the first, a bundle of tubes that hissed for half a second before exploding into a shower of sparks. As soon as the sparks touched the mystery liquid, it ignited, setting the vine ablaze.
The creature thrashed, slamming itself into the water to put out the fire, but it wouldn’t be quenched. The vine eventually gave up on saving itself, instead lashing out at the one who had caused it such pain. Besa backflipped out of harm’s way as the creature began to swing wildly.
Meanwhile from the right, Shane riddled the advancing vine with arrows, while the air wizard chained arcs of lighting through the metal shafts, sending torrents of burning energy deep into the thorny thing’s core and up its entire length. With her lightning stunning the plant monster, Eleanor took the second of downtime to glance towards Ilya’s cage of thorns.
She was watching the battle with great interest, eyes shining as the party went head to head with her Lady’s vines. No worry, no fear, not even a hint of remorse in her eyes. She looked like she was having fun.
Seeing the relative ease with which her singular vine was being held back, the black dragon summoned another, and another, until seven more bloodthirsty plants were added to the fray.
A blast of light lit up the dark swamp- a smite from Darius’ blade cleaving his foe in two. The proud grin on his face was short lived as he saw the thrashing horde approach.
Rushing to intercept, Darius planted his shield in the ground and crouched behind it, causing a translucent bubble of gold to form around the party. The vine creatures smashed into it, striking the holy shield with all of their weight, yet it held firm.
Shane took the initiative, using the opportunity given to him to set up a decisive strike. He knelt down on one knee, pulling a single large arrow from the quiver on his back and nocking it in.
“Eleanor! Hit me!” He called, and with an underhand swing of her arm, the aeromancer obliged, infusing the very tip of his arrow with the power of storms. Lining up the the shot, Shane pulled back on the string, filling the flexible stave with both physical tension and magical might. The wood creaked as it strained, begging for release as the power grew, and only when the bow was just about splinter into a million pieces did his fingers finally relent.
With the force of a ballista bolt, the arrow blasted across the clearing, piercing straight through the flesh of a vine and continuing to its true target- the one part of the dragon’s body uncovered by black scales.
With an arrow gouged through its eye, the beast would loose focus, and then all of its summoned vines would-
The arrow bounced uselessly off of the beast’s cornea with a quiet tink, only releasing its charge when it hit the water below.
There was no time for stunned silence, as the sound of breaking glass alerted the party to the dwindling strength of Darius’ shield.
Each slam of a tendril against the shield birthed another fracture, soon growing to cover the entire surface in a spiderweb of cracks.
“Anyone got a plan?!” Besa cried, getting in as many stabs in as possible while the shield was still blocking retaliation. “Darius?! Eleanor!?”
The air wizard hesitated, rapidly tapping her index and middle finger against her staff. “I might have something!” A spell she knew all the steps to cast, but had never channelled to completion. It was powerful, maybe powerful enough to save them, but the sheer amount of mana the spell took would surely put her out of commission. “It’s risky though!”
“Riskier than doing nothing?!” No. Nothing could be riskier than that. But if anyone else had an idea…
“Do it!” Darius called. “The shield is going down!”
With a white knuckled grip around her staff, Eleanor cast her hesitation aside, closing her eyes and beginning to channel mana. She could hear the shield caving in as her hands rapidly went through the memorized motions, but she held focus- panicking now would kill them all.
The first step of her usual lightning based spells was usually pathing, using mana to tell the lightning where and what to course through, but that would not help her here. After a certain level of power, the path of elemental spells became almost impossible to control, forcing the caster to work on prediction and protection, defending themselves from the wrath of their own magic.
Layer upon layer of resistance spells surrounded the party, overkill for most situations, but they were all soaked from the constant splashing around of the vines- a fatal combination when mixed with what she was about to do.
Preparations complete, Eleanor allowed the mana in her body to grow and grow, filling her entirety until the tiny hairs on her skin sizzled away. She had never felt such power, all the strength of storm and sky at her command- it was intoxicating.
A dark cloud whirled into existence over their heads, grey and angry, sparking with barely contained fury. Eleanor lifted her lashes to welcome it, static buzzing in her eyes.
“[ CROWN OF STORMS! ]”
A rattling sonic boom sent nine blades of lightning down at once, striking the water with the rage of the heavens and sending countless arcing waves across its surface. The vines spasmed as their internals were fried and their bark was grilled, thrashing and twitching until the white hot fire burnt them from the inside to the out, leaving only ash.
The smell of ozone and burnt wood filled the air, and for a beautiful moment it overpowered all the rot and slime and stink of the swamp. Eleanor took a deep breath of victory and then collapsed to her knees.
“You can kill plants, congratulations.” A flap of gigantic wings cleared away smoke and soot to reveal the beast, again entirely unharmed. “That’s enough of you now, mage, I want to see more of Sir Order over here.”
Black winds billowed through the trees, swirling inward to arrive in an upturned palm where they coalesced into a sphere. Necrotic energies billowed forth from the ball of darkness, ashen smoke flecked with nauseous green spilling from between the ancient’s fingers.
“Rise, my victims, and live again.” The dragon’s fist clenched tightly closed, shattering the sphere and sending a dark shockwave across the clearing.
For a moment, there was silence, only the sounds of dripping water, crackling ashes, and breathing.
Then… more silence. No skeletons rose from the swamp to greet them- the spell had done nothing.
“Ahh right… she cleaned up recently.” The dragon hummed to itself, head tilting slightly to one side. “All the bones are in the pile now.”
“I’m so sorry, my Lady!” Ilya gave a shout of distress from her cage. “I didn’t ask you before moving the bones! I-Ouch.” She tried to bow her head but ended up getting her hair caught in thorns, and any subsequent movements only resulted in hair being pulled out painfully.
“Silence, slave.” The dragon ordered impassionately. “I should have remembered you moving them- for once this is on me.” Ilya seemed like she wanted to object, but the direct order sealed her lips.
“The fun has been spoiled- I no longer care.” Then the beast got up.
The trademark six limbs of a true dragon stretched to full length as it rose. Abyssal black wings opened wide, their span covering the entire width of the clearing and snapping branches at each end to emphasize their enormity. Its front and hind limbs pressed down forcefully into the earth, claws at the ends of each gripping the terrain as its neck and tail twisted to work out the kinks of sleep.
Finally, the creation of chaos looked down at them, a small sadistic smile creasing its leathery lips.
“I am the black dragon, Visnavik’drok’sahrot. Know my name, puny humans, and despair.”
The battle was now over.
The beast took a single shallow breath, and then before anyone could react or even move, a jet of burning acid erupted from its mouth, sweeping across the entire clearing. Eleanor, too exhausted to channel mana, watched in slow motion as the embodiment of certain death turned her way.
‘Ilya, forgive me… I couldn’t save-‘
In the blink of an eye, everything above her waist was just gone- torso, head, hat and all.
The archer and rogue had tried to dodge. Shane was too slow and was erased entirely from existence; Besa jumped just slightly too late, loosing first their legs, followed by the rest when the beam came back around for another sweep.
Three adventurers, the strongest around, reduced to sizzling slime.
When it was finished, only one remained: the shimmering silver armour and shield he so prized being the only thing that stood between him and the total annihilation that took his friends.
Darius was alive, but now he stood alone.
Acid lazily dripped over the top edge of the shield, each drop instantly burning through the leather and cloth covering the underside of his forearm to sear flesh.
The pain shoved him out of shock and straight into righteous fury as despair and anger flowed into him from all angles. “You… YOU FIEND!!” The paladin roared, summoning all the strength and every blessing he could. Their smiling faces flashed through his mind, each speaking his name with such love. “I’LL KILL YOU!”
“No.” The dragon said smugly, holding out a single hand. “You won’t.”
Green light flew from his body toward the dragon’s hand while its claws slowly flexed closed- Darius felt his very life being sucked away.
The sound of a dozen pairs of lungs sighing their final breath filled the air, and Darius joined them, his lungs compressing involuntarily as his organs failed.
‘This can’t be the end…’
The half orc collapsed face down in the muck, not dead, but unconscious, for a black dragon could do far worse than simply kill.
Visnavik stomped over to the body, picking up the giant of a man in a single clawed fist. She would enjoy this one.
With a thought, the thorns caging her slave turned to dust, freeing the girl and her hair from their spiny prison. “Pick up all the valuables and add them to the hoard.” Visnavik ordered without turning. “I will be back in a few hours.”
She was a step away from the clearing’s exit when a thought occurred. Leaning back on her hind legs, the dragon raised a claw to the side of her neck, popping out a scale.
“Here.” She offered, holding out the piece of herself. “Use this to cut through anything keeping you from my new treasure.”
Ilya scampered to her Lady’s side, accepting the gift with reverence. She had looked upon her Lady’s scales many times, and had even touched them when a task called for it, but actually holding one of the black dragon’s black scales in her hands… it was unimaginable. “T-Thank you my Queen! I will make sure to return it safely!”
“Do not bother.” Lady Visnavik replied, and as if to prove her point, the empty spot on her neck instantly filled in with a new scale. “You may think of it as a reward if you wish, for a task over-completed.”
Ilya’s eyes shimmered, looking down at the scale laid across her palms in disbelief. “I… I will treasure it always…”
With an ambivalent grunt, Lady Visnavik departed, leaving the slave girl to her assignment.
Slowly shifting the scale to her left hand, Ilya carefully gripped the blade-like object between two fingers and a thumb. It was much lighter than she expected, for even her weak digits could manipulate it with ease, letting her look at the fragment of her Lady from all angles.
Just as her Lady had suggested, the edge of the scale was extremely fine- it would have no trouble cutting through leather, cloth, flesh, or even bone.
Bone. The thought of the material brought Ilya back to her crafts project from that morning and the bone still stuffed in her pocket. Though if she now had something capable of cutting through bone, sharpening the thing became pointless.
Perhaps she would turn it into a handle after all.
Ilya shook herself out of her thoughts: there would be time for all of this later, she had been ordered to clean up.
Her Lady’s breath attack had melted two of the bodies away entirely, but their gold was apparently immune and had scattered all across the clearing as a result.
Scrounging around in the mud for every lost coin would take a while and so Ilya decided to start easy, sloshing up to the only non liquid corpse.
Eleanor had been kneeling in the water when the green beam hit, leaving her lower half mostly untouched. She looked down at the air wizard’s exposed spine with a blank expression, absentmindedly stroking the flat side of her Lady’s scale with her thumb.
They had really saved her in the end. Lady Visnavik had been so pleased with her results, enough to gift her unworthy slave something truly priceless.
Crouching down, Ilya reached her hand through the water to touch Eleanor’s knee.
A quiet second passed.
Then Ilya pushed the body over, using her Lady’s black scale to cut the coin purse from its hip.
Bouncing the bag a few times in one hand to test its weight, Ilya stood, stepping over the corpse to continue her work.
‘Thanks, you guys.’