FSE

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Chapter 39

As they ventured deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the castle, Veledar couldn't help but feel a sense of incredulity wash over him. He had anticipated formidable obstacles, perhaps even magical wards designed to thwart intruders at every turn. Yet, to his surprise, the path ahead lay eerily barren, devoid of the expected perils.

Halls stretched endlessly before them; their walls fashioned from old, weathered stone that seemed to absorb what little light the dimly glowing mana lanterns provided. Across the damp floor, moss clung tenaciously to corners. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and mildew, mingling with the metallic tang of old blood. Veledar’s gaze swept across it all, finding a rat scurrying across one such corridor, its eyes gleaming in the light before hissing and darting away for its life.

Despite his reluctance, he knew failure was not an option as he approached the pivotal moment of his anticipated victory. Thus, he begrudgingly yielded and refrained from presenting his majestic, regal form in its full glory. Instead, he shrank himself to the size of a wolf, much to his chagrin, particularly as it placed him at a disadvantage compared to the imposing stature of Krotos. Nevertheless, this diminution afforded him the ability to seamlessly blend into the enveloping darkness.

The ancient walls surrounding them exuded an aura of age and history, their weathered surfaces bearing the weight of centuries past. Veledar couldn't help but muse that Merlia, with her appreciation for the rugged and ancient, would have found amusement in their presence. These walls, weathered and worn, seemed to pulsate with life as they traversed their ancient corridors, relics of a bygone era.

Their journey led them to a chamber adorned with intricate carvings, each stroke telling a story of ages’ long past. Veledar's gaze lingered upon the depictions of dragons locked in fierce battle with mortals upon a blood-soaked battlefield. He felt a pang of sorrow as he surveyed the broken bodies immortalized in stone, a testament to the brutality of conflict. He pondered what might have been if it were dragons that had united with humans instead of gryphons.

He watched Arcturus intently as the man absently stroked his beard, his mind lost in contemplation. If only such a union had been within reach, Veledar couldn't help but mull over the consequences. Perhaps, in an alternate reality, this entire ordeal might have been avoided. But then, he realized with a pang of fear, he might never have crossed paths with Arcturus, never known the depth of their love. The mere thought sent shivers down his spine, his claws trembling with the weight of what could have been, what he might have missed.

Eventually these silent hallways began to narrow, forcing Krotos to pin his wings. The darkness here was all consuming, making the dragon’s neck start to feel the kiss of a winter’s chill. Even though he could see in the dark, this was unyielding even to his eyes. It was magical, hungry, seeming to reach out towards them with blackened tendrils, eager to devour them should their vigilance wane. They were forced to summon light from Shandalar’s palms and Arcturus’ shield to beat back this ravenous foe, but still, they could hardly see ten feet in front of them.

It should have been a crimson banner, a warning of the formidable power wielded by the lich to extinguish light at will. Veledar's growl reverberated through the air, a testament to his unwavering resolve as he steeled his convictions. With each rumble of defiance, he vowed to demonstrate to this decrepit magician the folly of crossing a dragon, determined to unleash the full force of his wrath upon the thief who dared to steal from him.

"Seems like an older section of the castle." Arcturus remarked, his hand grazing the weathered stone, noting it didn’t reach Veledar’s true height. "Probably predates the alliance with the gryphons."

"Ugh, these narrow corridors are a nightmare for my feathers." Krotos complained, his wings brushing against the rough stone walls on either side. "I'll have to spend ages preening them. When this is done, I’m going to have an extra-long visit to the preeners.”

"Mind your feathers, Krotos." Veledar chuckled, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Wouldn't want to see you looking like a wet chicken.

“Oh, get mounted dragon. Some of us can’t cheat.”

“Not cheating.” He chuckled, “Just using my natural abilities, you’re just envious of my power.”

"Cease your bickering, both of you." Shandalar interjected, her voice calm yet commanding as she gestured for them to proceed.

The corridor indeed widened, revealing a chamber that offered Krotos ample space to spread his wings. It resembled an alcove, with the passage extending beyond, its true length concealed by darkness.

Their brief respite was guarded by a substantial door, crafted from steel and adorned with a painting depicting a human reaching out to a white dragon, its feathery wings evoking images of an angel. Before the door lay a vibrant rug, its surface adorned with depictions of claws and cerulean eyes, symbolizing dragonkind. Once more, the same mage was depicted, intertwined with the dragoness, their figures locked in a dance that Veledar knew too well.

There, on the artwork was the passion that he experienced for Arcturus. Veledar rested a paw against the dragoness’ snout, wondering what story she could tell. No doubt it was one of romance, intrigue, and would marvel any other engaging stories the mortals could conjure from their imaginations. From this rug came a pillar of blacked stone, gilded with runes that raced around the bowl at its peak. Within the bowl dwelled a singular disk, perfect in shape to fit a draconic paw. Around this was the same dragoness and her human lover, reaching out for one another.

“Someone really loved dragons didn’t they.” Krotos said softly, with a brief chuckle as he tentatively made his way across the stone, “Strange, given the recent attitude with them. I wonder if these two ever…”

“I imagine that they did, who could resist?” Veledar rumbled, giving Arcturus a well-deserved wink. The dragon shifted to a larger size as he surveyed the room, making sure to flick his tail and give Arcturus a quick look at the underside. No doubt the knight’s eyes lingered, taking in every inch.

"I don't spy a knocker or a lock to be picked." Arcturus remarked, his gaze shifting towards the door. Though his burning cheeks were concealed by his helmet, Veledar's otherworldly perception caught the telltale signs of his embarrassment.

“You won’t find one captain.” Shandalar placed her staff upright, with a flick of her wrist it refused to deviate from that position. It left her free to fold her arms, diligent eyes searching across the enclosure. “Wizards often have less conventional methods of gaining access to their inner sanctums.”

“Like getting kidnapped and turned into a mouse.” Krotos replied dryly with pinned ears.

“Or casually walking into an alley way and hitting a brick.” Veledar huffed with a grin.

She stood unphased by their jabbing.

“Who was the white dragon?” Arcturus brushed a hand across the door’s surface, “Can’t help but notice the door, the rug and the pedestal.”

“Someone with impeccable taste.” Rumbled Veledar, rubbing himself along Arcturus, “That of all the creatures to base his motif upon he chose the grand, regal form of a dragon.”

“It was his love.” Shandalar said, cleaving through the dragon’s flirting. “Before my people took her from him.”

"Wait... you're serious, they were together?" Krotos's beak shifted from the man to the dragoness, a sly smile playing across his features. "Must have been quite the adventure with a woman such as that—" He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Let's leave the speculation to a brothel." Shandalar remarked dryly, her tone dismissive as she turned away. "The fact stands: the Magisters found Nigel and deprived him of his dragon. He took it... personally."

"Ah, true, we wouldn't want to rattle the old bones.” His head swiveled around, half expecting Nigel to pop on out. “So, I say, the sooner we depart, the better.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Rumbled Veledar.

Though the thought intrigued the dragon, Veledar couldn't help but feel a surge of possessive protectiveness at the notion of losing Arcturus. With a low growl, he fixed his gaze on the stoic elf. "Sounds like your kind got what they deserved for depriving a man of his love."

"They were both dangerous beings." Shandalar explains, her tone measured and analytical. "Despite her angelic appearance, she wielded powers as cold as her namesake, freezing everything, she set her eyes upon or touched. She harbored a deep disdain for mortal kind, particularly the Magisters, who once ruled over Rothdell."

"He was the exception." Shandalar's voice softened, her words carrying a hint of sorrow. "Somehow, he managed to touch her heart in a way no other had before. Her love for him was possessive and formidable; to harm him would incur the wrath of a tempest." She sighed wistfully; her gaze distant. "Eventually, they left our lands, seeking a tranquil life together. It was not to be."

It was Arcturus that heaved a heavy sigh, “Such is the way of the world. Why did it have to be so?”

“There was no other way.” Shandalar's voice carried a weight of solemn resignation. “In their era, the turmoil and defiance they instigated demanded a decisive response. The Magisters couldn't afford to let them slip away; they hungered for their heads on pikes.” She paused, her gaze lingering on the serene image of the dragon and human couple. “Yet, their efforts were futile. In one's demise, they birthed a fiercer adversary. One who shed his moral shackles and ensured his immortality. Now, this hollowed vessel of rage and resentment will not rest until every trace of the Magisters is erased from this world.”

Veledar shifted restlessly, emitting a heavy snort. "If you expect me to shed tears, you're sorely mistaken. They dared to challenge the wizard, and they paid the price." He tapped the door with a claw, a glint of impatience in his eyes. "So, listen here, mage. My sole concern lies in reclaiming my book. Once that's accomplished, we part ways. I won't be dragged into your vendetta."

“I understand your perspective.” She nodded, “Rest assured, your help with us here was all that was required. With luck, what I seek will be within.” Without much prompting she made her way to the door, tapping it three times with a finger before retreating to caress her chin with a raised brow.

"Have we journeyed all this way only to be thwarted by a mere door?" Veledar quipped, settling down beside Shandalar and folding his wings with a smug air. "Perhaps one should question whether my book even resides within."

“Nonsense. My information source was most trusted.” She folded her arms, “Just give me a moment to figure it out.”

"Go ahead, you’re the ones withering away with age." Veledar sneered, a hint of amusement tainting his voice as he shifted his attention not to the door, but to the rug and pedestal nearby. It was a sight to behold, he mused, picturing his lair adorned with such opulent treasures.

His curiosity piqued; he pondered the significance of the scene depicted in the fabric. "What is this?" Veledar's head tilted inquisitively, his keen eyes discerning the repeated imagery of both human and dragon figures touching the pedestal.

“Notice something?” Shandalar asked as his snout lowered to sniff.

Magic teased at his senses, causing the frills on Veledar's tail to itch and his snout to wrinkle in discomfort. Its path connected with the pedestal at the center of the rug. Veledar planted himself down, his tail curling around Arcturus like a protective fortress as he maintained a steely gaze. "It revolves around this, I'm certain."

“I imagined as such.” Shandalar was to his side.

The dragon rested a paw on its surface, the crimson-scaled appendage dominating the pedestal's expanse. A hunger emanated from the metal, as if yearning to delve deep within him and seize something he held dear. Veledar's head tilted in contemplation; was it attempting to devour magic? No, it felt more like it was waiting for something, like a silent personal waiting for the correct response before proceeding. The notion intrigued him, causing his frills to ripple with interest. When Veledar shared this observation with the others, it was Shandalar who raised a skeptical brow.

"Quite intriguing." Shandalar mused, "Though if it’s a magical response it wants then what spell might suffice? I can think of several that—"

"Allow me to interject." Veledar interrupted, raising a scaled paw. He then gestured to Arcturus, instructing the knight to place his hand upon his paw.

"Are you certain about this?" Arcturus questioned, hesitating before complying. "I fear this may just be an excuse for me to touch you."

Veledar rumbled with amusement. "As entertaining as that notion is, I assure you there are far more enjoyable places for you to touch me." Gesturing to the imagery on the pedestal while relishing the sight of his paladin's flushed cheeks. "The mage clearly held deep affection for his dragoness, crafting a tribute to her memory."

“I think I know where you’re going- “

“I don’t.” Shandalar said, “Arcturus isn’t a mage.”

The dragon snorted, “I imagine this mage shared a bond like Arcturus and I do now. That this special union is what is required to open it.”

“But how can that be possible when the dragon is dead?”

With a roll of the eyes, he dismissed her, “Just focus on me Arcturus, perhaps our lich doesn’t need the dragon anymore, the lock recognizing him.”

“Then how will we- “Asked the man, only to be silenced with a soft rumble.

“Just attempt this for me, if we fail, we try something else.”

Arcturus nodded, “Alright, tell me what to do.”

“Let us see and test this hypothesis.” Shandalar turned to inspect the door, “By all means continue.”

“Well, you heard her.” Veledar chortled, nudging Arcturus to continue. “Close your mind of everything else, focus on me.”

“Is that all?” asked Arcturus, pressing down on the dragon’s paw. “It seems so simple.”

“Again, if we fail, we just do whatever Shandalar is doing.”

“What do I do?” Krotos chirped, striding around them.

“Stand there and look mildly pretty.” Huffed Veledar.

“Will do.” The gryphon planted himself, fluttering his wings, “To what…inspire you?”

“Something like that.”

With a twinkle in his eye, Krotos retorted, "I knew you found me irresistible.” He planted himself down, starting to preen his feathers with an exaggerated flair.

The dragon searched the man, focusing on the beating heart of this diminutive ape that held his heart in swing. “Ready?” he asked, the anticipation palpable on the air.

Caught within each other, the river that flowed between them flickered. It was unspoken, tethering them to one another greater than any force on this plane. As he breathed, so did the knight, sending shivers down Veledar’s spine. He closed his eyes, focusing on him, imagining the human deep below his flesh, filling out his very paws. When the word was given a song gathered at his core, wild and untamed, yet its melody was one Arcturus’ soon found as well. Together the two strands coiled and spun, lost in each other’s radiance. It eventually built, growing ever stronger, until it pulsed with the strength of ages long since passed, causing the air around them to shimmer with an ethereal light.

This light twisted and turned, weightless upon the air, caught in an endless dance. Man and dragon found their attentions caught upon it, a pulse within resembling their souls. Then it raced around them, kissing their limbs before shooting towards the door. There they burst like the sun, bringing the light of day to the overpowering dark.

Upon the door, the imagery of the dragoness and mage changed, now looking upon them with pleased expressions. Paw and hand were raised in welcome as deep, resounding clunks radiated through the air.

Veledar grinned, noting the sound of gears as he turned to the flabbergasted magician. “It would appear this wasn’t as foolish as it seemed.”

** * * * * * * * *

With a shuddering groan and a grating scrape against the ancient stone, the door yawningly opened before our intrepid adventurers. Each inhalation was tinged with the scent of aged stone, heavy with the musty aroma of centuries past. A biting chill accompanied the opening, a voracious cold that swept forth into the hallway with an insatiable hunger.

As the darkness was pierced by the sudden illumination of mana lanterns, casting a spectral purple glow upon the descending stairs, Krotos might have instinctively drawn closer, seeking refuge from the eerie atmosphere. But Veledar remained steadfast, his resolve unyielding even in the face of the chilling draft that ruffled his scales. For him, the allure of the book that lay below was paramount.

The stairs traveled for several stories, eventually opening up into a vast hall, one to rival that of the largest of dragon hordes. They found themselves on a platform of pristine stone, high above and supported by metal strands thicker than Veledar’s limbs. Lining this platform were statues of dragons in flight, pristine stone and quite lifelike. It led to a circular dais littered with various equipment.

Upon the dais, amidst the flickering light of lavender-hued mana lanterns, a menagerie of arcane wonders unfolded. Glass vials and ornate flasks containing shimmering elixirs and bubbling concoctions adorned the desks, alongside ancient spellbooks and scrolls inscribed with cryptic runes. Alchemy equipment, including burners, crucibles, and distillation apparatus, lay scattered about, their surfaces etched with the remnants of potent potions and elixirs.

Amidst the clutter of magical instruments and artifacts, curious contraptions of intricate design hummed with latent power. Crystals, wands, and other arcane implements gleamed with a faint aura of magic, while enigmatic artifacts whispered of forgotten secrets and untold mysteries. Protective wards and runes, etched into the very fabric of the dais, shimmered with a faint glow.

From this Dais, the vast hall revealed itself, a shadow thick countryside only interrupted by beacons of lavender light. Within this blackened expanse, shapes twisted and churned, seeming ready to devour the dragon lest he not be careful. From those depths came a sprawling jungle of pipes, tubes and metal beams, all of them thrumming with a power to match the gentle whine upon the air. The scent of oil, metal and grease was thick with every breath, wrinkling the dragon’s snout.

Veledar shifted uncomfortably, he hadn’t expected it to be on par with his mother’s treasure vault.

“One can’t say it’s not impressive.” Krotos whistled, leaning over the edge, “Though, with how big it is, think he’s compensating for something?”

“How do you mean?” Arcturus kept close to the dragon; shield held tight.

“Well, you know. If he’s undead, probably doesn’t have a dick.”

“What?”

“That’s not true.” Snorted Veledar with a swish of the tail, “Vampires are undead and have dicks.”

“Says who?” Krotos squawked.

He averted his gaze, unwilling to admit he’d read some romantic novels feature such beasts, “People.”

“I don’t believe you. Who would be romantically interested in an animated corpse?”

“Necrophiliacs for one, but lots of other people, I believe there are swaths of stories.”

The gryphon tilted his head, “You read steamy romance novels don’t you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He huffed, “The literature that I’ve perused, suggests that Vampires have dicks and do indeed fuck, if you’re curious.”

For a moment the gryphon bit his tongue, before turning to Arcturus, “Back me up, he’s lying.”

“What, about the ability of undead to fuck and have dicks?” Scoffed Arcturus, not even paying them a glance.

“Precisely.” Veledar gave a firm nod, “Shandalar, tell this gryphon here how Vampires go about sucking you off.”

“They don’t suck you off dragon.” Replied the sun-elf, “They suck your blood.”

“See?” Krotos laughed, “They just eat you and suck your blood. Besides, how would they even get an erection if they were dead?”

“Well, that point is obvious.” Chuckled the dragon, “They suck your blood for their erections.” He grinned as the gryphon stopped dead, ears pinning. He had been victorious.

“Captain, must you always put up with such…topics in your travels?” Shandalar asked, surveying the hall.

“It is not frivolous.” Veledar padded forward, his chest swelling with pride, “It is a debate on the factual accuracy of literature on the subject of vampires and their ability to fuck or not.”

She sighed.

“Have you thought of female vampires, or only the male ones?” Arcturus rose a brow, “Why do they suck blood if they don’t have dicks to fuel with said blood?”

Veledar paused, blinking as he processed the information. He merely scoffed, “Well obviously it’s to- “

“Pfffff, no way they do that.” Krotos rolled his eyes, “You’re speaking nonsense.”

“Nonsense? It makes perfect sense!”

Shandalar sighed, “I thought you were so focused on your book?”

“I can do two things.” He fluffed his wings, trotting the next few paces with a grin, “Besides Shandalar, you’re our resident learned magician. How about you tell us, do vampires have dicks and use them?”

“I’m not dignifying this with a response dragon.”

“AHA!” He pranced a few steps with a swish of the tail, “She knows!”

In the dim recesses below, a disturbance rippled through the darkness, accompanied by the ominous scrape of metal against stone. The echoing clang of chains reverberated through the chamber, hinting at the presence of a colossal entity lurking just beyond sight. Veledar's instincts surged as a deep, resonant growl reverberated through the hall, its metallic timbre instilling a primal sense of dread that would unsettle even the sturdiest of souls.

As the chatter of his companions faded and their steps stilled, Veledar turned his attention downward, peering into the abyss below. Within the inky expanse, a shape twisted and turned, its movements akin to serpents writhing beneath a murky surface. With each passing moment, Veledar's keen eyes pierced through the darkness, discerning a familiarity in the creature's sinuous motions. Were he not mistaken; he might have surmised a dragon lay concealed within the shadows—a hapless soul ensnared in the depths of oblivion.

“Oh no, he’s spotted something.” Krotos’ ears pinned as he kept his distance, “Please tell me it’s a basket of cute kittens waiting to be cuddled?”

“I doubt that would be in here.” Arcturus muttered, joining the dragon’s side.

“Well obviously, it was sarcasm Arcturus!”

Shandalar held out her hand, flicking the wrist to conjure a ball of light upon the air. She let it drop, the brilliant, torch like light dropping like a stone. Bit by bit it peeled back the darkness around it, revealing the creature that dwelled at the bottom.

What emerged from the shadows was a daunting apparition—an amalgam of gleaming scales and cold metal, forged into the semblance of a dragon. Three times Veledar’s size from snout to tail, it sprawled upon the stone floor, its massive limbs ensnared and firmly tethered. From its snout to its sinuous tail, the construct gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, its surface etched with countless arcane symbols that seemed to dance and writhe with sinister purpose. With a primal growl, the creature strained against its restraints, its single orange eye flaring to life. Within that reptilian gaze, infernos blazed and seethed, piercing not merely into Veledar, but through him, as if laying bare the very essence of his being.

As he shifted, a wintry chill slithered down his spine. Though he knew it was impossible, he could not shake the sensation that this thing knew of him. He couldn't quite grasp it, but with each passing moment, a gnawing sense of dread wormed its way into his gut.

“A dragon?” Krotos chirped, focused on its chain wrapped snout, “What are they doing with a dragon down here? Why is it into bondage?”

“It’s not into bondage, it’s not even a dragon.” Arcturus said, gesturing to the spaces on the joints where they could see gears ever turning away.

“Clearly it is Arcturus, just look at it.”

“It’s a construct.” He said flatly, “Like those that patrol the city.”

“Then why lock it up here?” Blue-grey ears splayed, his hinds shifting as the bound construct growled, “I’ve never seen one so…animated before.”

“Maybe it is defective. It would explain its restraints.” Shandalar answered.

The dragon clawed its talons against the stone, unleashing a mournful cry that echoed through the caverns, breaking loose a tide of sorrow within the crimson dragon like he’d never known. He was caught, frozen in those burning eyes, tugging at the corners of his memories. His limbs quivered, legs shook, strength was fading as though it were being filtered away into the ether. With a determined shake of his head, he fought to break free from the creature's hypnotic gaze. This being, whatever it was, seemed to lack the true essence of a dragon; it was but a twisted illusion, a facade of shadow and steel.

“Are you alright?” Arcturus quickened his pace to match Veledar's stride, speaking in a hushed tone to conceal the dragon's discomfort, a gesture of kindness that didn't go unnoticed.

"Of course I'm alright." Veledar proclaimed proudly, lifting his head high. "I'm the epitome of resilience, the embodiment of dragon strength." He swished his tail for emphasis, adding a regal bounce to his step. "Your people fashioned a construct in the likeness of dragonkind; I should be flattered!"

Arcturus placed a comforting hand on Veledar's scales. "You're not fooling me. I sensed your unease. It's just us now. Speak your mind."

With a sigh, Veledar lowered his snout to briefly nuzzle against Arcturus, though he disguised the affectionate gesture with a sweep of his wing. Unabashedly, he emitted a soft chuff of approval before addressing the matter at hand. "That creature reminded me of what could have been. Chained, alone in darkness, screaming for help. Could that have been me?"

“Veledar, I didn’t- “

“I know you didn’t.” Veledar replied with a sad smile, leaning gently against Arcturus. “I don’t blame you, nor hold it against you. Besides, that thing down there must be a trap for dragons. Never give it another thought.” With a snort, he held his head high, a pleased rumble emanating from his chest.

“Suppose it’s not long now until you have your brother’s book back.”

“And you’re off the hook.”

A smile passed between them, a tender moment in their flirtatious banter. “I don’t know, suppose I’m stuck with you now.”

“I told you; it doesn’t last that long. Besides, I could hear nothing but praise from yo-” Veledar chuckled, enjoying the feeling of the redness creeping on the human’s cheeks. He then gave a toothy grin, rather proud of leaving that sort of impression. “Though I suppose I should be more discreet about how one knight adores being tied to one’s knot.”

“I would like that immensely.” Arcturus laughed nervously before the dragon silenced him with a snout parted kiss.

“Now come along, let’s hope we don’t have any more- “He shook his head free of the construct, “Surprises.”

Finally, they had made it to the circular dais, one large enough for Veledar to spread his wings twice over. In addition to the multitude of clutter from before, one could note the two metal spiral staircases that descended to another level right below it, one with an equal amount of equipment, tomes and scattered parchment.

“Why must wizards be so disorganized.” Huffed Veledar, “My book could be anywhere in that mess.”

“Says the dragon who laid upon his treasure.” Scoffed Arcturus, “Compared to that, he’s perfect.”

He bopped the man on the head with a wing to remind him who was the leader here. This was met with laughter, as if he wasn’t being serious.

“And keep an eye out for the plans on the uniter.” Shandalar strode forth, swiping her hand across the air. The runes that rested upon the dais’ circumference dimmed then died with her recitation of power.

“And what might that have done?”

“Turned your inside out.” Shandalar replied matter of fact, oblivious to Krotos’ mortified look. With a tap to her temple she performed another spell, this time her eyes turned into a vibrant crimson. With these she swept over the sea of books, shelves and equipment, “There are no magical traps that one can see.”

“Delightful.” Sighed Krotos in relief, “Last thing I need to be is wind up a roasted chicken.”

“To be fair.” Veledar lowered his snout with a tease, “While an approvement, I think that’s the least of our worries of what should happen.”

The gryph squawked in alarm, “Wasn’t being turned into a mouse trauma enough dragon? Let me have some sense of ease!”

Shandalar orchestrated their search patterns, assigning each member to sift through a mound of ancient scrolls and various research manuscripts. She cautioned them to remain vigilant for cryptic codes and recurring phrases such as "celestial," "euphoria," and "whispering," as these might unveil crucial insights into their adversary. Despite being an undead abomination, Nigel remained meticulously methodical in his organization.

Even still, it was hard not to notice the lack of his book. Veledar’s growl lingered on the air as he tossed aside a stack of parchment with his snout, covering Krotos’ work area.

“Could you watch it?” Squawked the gryphon, “I think I already checked those…Did I?” His head tilted before his feathers ruffled, “You made me lose track, I have to start all over!”

“It’s going to take forever anyway.” He shifted his gaze to Shandalar, the mage currently plucking her way through her fourth folder of notes. “She however seems right at home.”

“Weirdly enough, so is Arcturus.”

The knight was silent enough, doing his diligent best as he dove through note and tome. Veledar had to admire his determination.

He rolled a paw to his chest, “Well, I only admire the best after all. Or he is enduring hardship for my sake, either way I love him.”

“And yet you can’t be bothered to search through notes.” Krotos cleared a space, making two defined areas yet again on where he had searched.

“That sort of thing is for the help.” He dismissed the complaint with a paw before flicking his gaze through three files on a nearby table.

For a time, they went about in silence, pouring themselves over every book and tome that found their way to them. With every word, every pound of his heart, Veledar could sense their time was drawing thin, every moment was another time they could be caught, his quest failed. When his scales could take it no longer, he stood up, stretching himself like a cat before stopping himself from knocking over a table with his tail.

“And this is the person that aids my country.” Arcturus hissed, setting aside a piece of parchment, “A spell that turns someone’s skin inside out.”

Veledar nosed at the crumpled paperwork, “To be fair, it says not practical for combat.”

“He still experimented with it. Given the fort, I can’t in good conscious think they were dead before.”

The dragon brushed against the knight, feeling the turmoil that twisted within. He lent a paw before padding around the dais. It was then that they found a shrine of sorts, hidden away in the mass of books.

The portrait showcased the dragoness in all her majesty, her bearing regal and pride, a confident glint shimmering in her eye. Beside her stood what appeared to be Nigel in his mortal form, his smile reflecting the triumph of a man who had captured the heart of a woman beyond his station. His hands tenderly clasped the paw that cradled him, a tangible symbol of their bond. Encircling the painting were numerous candles, their flickering flames casting an ethereal glow, and a finely crafted rug, its colors harmonizing seamlessly with the dragoness's scales.

"Remarkable, isn't it? What once stood as a testament to their bond now bears the scars of time and tyranny." Veledar mused, his voice carrying a hint of sorrow as he observed the worn patches on the rug, evidence of Nigel's presence. "Do you suppose he still holds any semblance of affection for her, even in his wretched, undead state?"

Arcturus shifted uncomfortably, “It’s a reminder, that not all things start twisted and wretched. It’s time that does it to them.”

“Or love.” Krotos shrugged, getting both ire filled glances his way. “What, he loved a dragon, she died, he went mad.”

“I refuse to take that away from this.” Veledar huffed. “Clearly there was more to it.”

“I think you’re just a little biased- “

He bopped the gryphon on the head with a wing to silence him.

“Did you just bop me?” Squawked the kitty bird.

“I did.” He growled, “And continue to be an ass and there will be more.” His attentions shifted away from the now feathers fluffing gryphon and instead to the plaque which had caught Arcturus’ interest.

It was a diminutive thing, placed upon the rug, having fallen from its position underneath the painting. Arcturus had kneeled, caressing it over in his hands.

“In twilight's hush, where shadows dance, I call you, Sondras, in a trance. Your wings once graced the azure skies, now memories alone, where sorrow lies.

Beside the fire, where tales were spun, in moonlit glades, our love begun. Your laughter echoed in the night, a beacon of joy, a guiding light.

Throughout the realms of dreams, I seek your face, In whispered winds, your gentle grace. In every star that lights the sky, I find a glimpse of you nearby.

Though time may steal, and tears may flow, my love for you, Sondras, still grows. Until the day we reunite, in dreams, in hope, I hold you close even in the darkest night.” Arcturus finished the last verse, heaving a great sigh, “Clearly he was in love.”

His frills fluttered with excitement, “I didn’t know you read Draconic.”

“Draconic?” His brow rose, “I don’t know how to speak your language, it’s all hisses and growls to me.”

“And yet you spoke it clear as day from that very plaque.” He curled around Arcturus, watching the man’s eyes go wide with realization. “I didn’t know you’d break your oath over something so minor- “

“But I don’t.” His voice was but a whisper as his gaze traveled from the painting to the dragon, back to the plaque. Within there was a storm of unease, eventually furrowing his brow. “At least…I didn’t.”

“How do you suppose that worked?” Krotos asked.

“Clearly it’s another aspect of the bond we share.” Veledar mused, rolling a paw to his scaled chest.

“Wait-“Krotos planted himself down, head tilted, “Are you telling me, that because you two humped, that now Arcturus is gaining magical powers.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“That is most definitely not how that works.” Arcturus interjected, clearly trying to hide the redness of his cheeks as Veledar looked on in amusement.

“To be fair Arcturus, we’re not entirely sure how.” He gave a toothy grin, thumping his tail, “It could be like that.”

Krotos only squawked with laughter, “If that’s the case, sign me up! Hump away, I want magical powers!”

Veledar sighed, raising his head high. “I’m even greater than I thought, who could have guessed that my passion filled thrusts could create powers in mortals.”

With a rueful shake of his head, Arcturus took a few paces away, his demeanor no brighter than before. He hadn't expected such playful banter to unsettle him so deeply. Veledar observed his companion's restless movements, sensing the turmoil brewing within him. With a determined flick of his tail, the dragon approached, recognizing the need to offer support.

"If it eases your mind, know that I understand there are deeper concerns at play here than mere jests about desire." Veledar interjected, cutting off Arcturus with a decisive gesture. "Umraadi, you mustn't shy away from your troubles."

"I'm not running. I was simply taking a moment to collect my thoughts." Arcturus replied, his tone defensive.

"Even so." Veledar insisted, scratching his head with a talon, "you should confide in me. Trust that I can bear the weight of whatever troubles you may face."

A fleeting smile graced Arcturus's lips, momentarily dispelling the heavy cloud that had settled over him. His hands tenderly traced the contours of Veledar's snout, descending to his chin in a soothing gesture. "I fear whether these transformations will ever cease. Initially, it was the emotional turmoil that consumed us, a challenge in its own right. But this..."

"Do you doubt your newfound ability to read and speak Draconic with such ease?" Veledar pondered aloud. "Few possess such a skill, yet here you are." With a gentle chuff, he tousled Arcturus's hair, a reassuring presence. "Let us trust that Bahamut, in her infinite wisdom, has brought us together for a purpose..."

"It's not that I fail to appreciate its benefits, I do." Arcturus replied. "But where does it end? Will I wake one day to find scales covering my flesh? Or perhaps my eyes will transform into those of a dragon's? What if I sprout horns and a tail overnight?" He sighed heavily; "And what if, when I look in the mirror, I no longer recognize the face staring back at me?"

"But imagine how dashing you'd look with a tail." Veledar rumbled playfully, nudging against Arcturus's touch.

"You're not helping!" Arcturus protested, grasping the dragon's snout. "You don't understand. You're not the one undergoing these changes."

Their gazes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. Veledar would be his anchor in the storm of transformation. He rumbled softly, "Change is a constant for me. Haven't you noticed?"

“It’s not…exactly the same.” A laugh escaped the troubled knight.

"Besides." Veledar continued, rolling his eyes and drawing the human closer with a gentle paw, "No matter how much we change, it won't alter how I feel about you. If anything, the unknown possibilities excite me. Who knows what wonders await us?"

Krotos eyed the dragon’s flank, “Clearly not that excited.”

He snarled and snapped his jaws, warding away the now laughing catbird, “Could you not go and ruin the moment speaking of my wonderous lance?”

“If the moment was so weak that I could ruin it, it wasn’t a moment.” Teased the gryphon, forced to fluff his wings and retreat from the dragon’s icy stare. “But I can see when I’m not wanted.” He gave a huff and strut away, swiftly thrusting his beak into more tomes.

Arcturus’ smile brightened the dragon’s heart. His hand brushed across crimson scaled cheeks before applying a kiss. “Thank you.”

"Of course." rumbled the dragon with pride, refusing to release the human when he attempted to pull away. Arcturus glanced back, a question forming on his lips, but before he could speak, the dragon claimed a kiss of his own, passion igniting between them as their tongues intertwined. The dragon chuffed, pressing deeper until his tongue was down the human’s throat. There they lingered in each other's embrace for several moments, hearts pounding with newfound intensity. When they finally parted, Arcturus was left blushing, his cheeks flushed with color.

“What an encouragement.”

"Careful now, Arcturus." Veledar purred, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer. "One kiss from a dragon, and you might find yourself craving more than just knowledge from those dusty tomes." He turned with a weary sigh; the books laid out before him seemed increasingly mundane, but the thought of finding his own spurred him onward. "Time to get back to business. My book won't come looking for me."

** * * * * * * * *

Returning to his duties, Arcturus returned his focus back to the painting, where Nigel and the dragoness stared back at him, their images a mirror of his own relationship with Veledar. It was difficult to gaze upon that tender, loving expressions, ignorant of what fate the future held instore. Arcturus rested a hand on the frame, feeling the weight of his own grief, knowing full well what depts one could be driven to over the loss of one so beloved. Like losing a very part of your soul, he shuttered to think what he might have done should he have had the power that this wizard did, and his mate’s murderers eluded justice. Imagining the depths of despair that could consume a man who had lost his wife. He pondered the unsettling notion if Dreadflame had somehow escaped his demise, what lengths would he have gone to ensure the monster was brought low at his feet?

Arcturus glanced back at Veledar, the dragon gracefully navigating the labyrinth of tomes with his head and tail. With a furrowed brow, he paused to ensure that his brother's book was not among the volumes. A fond smile touched Arcturus's lips as he reflected on how Veledar, in his occasional whimsy, had often been his guiding light in the darkest of times.

Suddenly, warmth radiated from Arcturus's fingertips, initially reminiscent of a gentle summer breeze, but swiftly intensifying to a searing heat that compelled him to recoil. The frame surrounding the painting began to glow with the fervor of a forge ablaze, casting a luminous aura that enveloped the chamber. Within the painting, the dragoness's scales shimmered with an otherworldly brilliance, her eyes gleaming with an intensity that forced Arcturus to avert his gaze.

A mysterious wind swept through the room, causing books and flesh alike to stir, accompanied by an indecipherable whisper that lingered in the air. Instinctively, Arcturus's hand flew to the hilt of his blade, a silent acknowledgment of the potential danger lurking amidst the enchanting display.

"What in blazes did you do?" Shandalar's voice cut through the tension, her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she stepped forward, her hand raised in a defensive stance. "Captain, you know better than to touch anything without consulting me first!"

“Touching anything?” Krotos quipped with a suggestive grin as he scrambled behind a stack of tomes.

“Now’s not the time kitty bird!” Veledar roared.

From the painting, light began to swirl and converge, countless ribbons spiraling in a silent, mesmerizing dance. With each rotation, their speed and intensity surged, the very air crackling with latent power. Veledar lunged forward, seizing Arcturus and yanking him away with a fierce snarl as the ribbons surged closer, culminating in a blinding explosion of light that rivalled the brilliance of the sun itself.

"Shield your eyes." the dragon hissed, enfolding them both within the shelter of his wings.

Pressed against Veledar's scales, Arcturus felt the searing intensity of the light, so fierce that he could discern the intricate veins within the dragon's membranes. Like a fleeting bolt of lightning, the radiance vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving a profound silence in its wake. As they exchanged a silent glance and nod, Veledar unfurled his wings, revealing the aftermath of the event.

Upon the ethereal currents floated a spectral dragon, her form dwarfing even that of Veledar, her presence commanding and ominous. She bore the likeness of the dragoness depicted in the painting, her translucent figure a haunting echo of primal beauty. With fierce azure eyes fixed intently upon Arcturus, she hovered effortlessly, her immense, feathered wings beating silently, leaving no trace of their passage through the air.

“Welcome, human.” the dragoness intoned with regal authority, her words carrying a subtle growl. “It has been many years since my master has entertained visitors. Consider yourselves honored by the invitation.”

Arcturus felt a lump form in his throat under the weight of her gaze. "And what leads you to believe we are guests?"

"Why must you always question everything?" Krotos hissed, feathers fluffing in exasperation. "This is not the time for your inquiries. This is how I knew I'd always go out, killed by a beautiful woman."

The dragoness snorted dismissively as Veledar instinctively fluffed his wings, standing protective guard beside his human. “For had you not been guests, you’d surely be dead by now.” she declared. Her gaze shifted to the lingering darkness that clung to the realm both below and above. “In this place, even the shadows hunger. No one dares to enter uninvited.”

Arcturus pondered whether the ritual they had performed earlier might have disabled any traps they were yet to encounter. However, he chose not to correct her assumption, not wishing to discover what should have transpired. Instead, he offered a polite nod and addressed her. “And to whom do we owe the pleasure of this encounter? If I had known we would be graced by the presence of such a magnificent dragoness, I would have prepared a suitable gift.”

"Your charm is as futile as the flutter of a moth's wings in a tempest, human." The white dragoness retorted with a disdainful snort, her form twisting gracefully through the air. "You may address me as Arctic Wind."

“He keeps his beloved as a ghost?” Krotos pulled back in alarm, “Did not see that one coming honestly.”

“I am no ghost.” She snapped back, “Nor am I the remnant of his love.”

“Then what might you be and your purpose?” interjected Veledar, “For you bear striking similarity to a similar construct within…my home.” He shifted from paw to paw uncomfortably, “Might you be able to help us?”

She nodded, her ethereal form emanating an air of solemn duty. "Within this sanctum, it is my role to offer guidance to Master's esteemed guests, or even to Master himself should he misplace his numerous projects." she explained, her gaze sweeping over each of them in turn. "However, I gather from the presence of a dragon that the experiments may resume?"

Experiments? Arcturus brow rose as Veledar’ growled at the idea. Had that been what the metal dragon from before once been? He trembled at the thought.

“What do you mean by experiments?" Veledar demanded, his voice laced with barely contained fury. "What manner of schemes does your master pursue with dragons?"

Undeterred, she maintained her composure. "I regret to inform you that information regarding that project is classified, even to guests." she replied with unwavering resolve. "I apologize for any inconvenience."

"Of course." Veledar grumbled, swatting irritably at the spectral image. "The sooner we depart, the better."

Arcturus nodded, swiftly asking Arctic Wind about Veledar’s book, the dragon even adding the accompanying description.

“Watch it be classified as well.” The dragon swished his tail, staring daggers upon the spectral beast, “Would be fitting- “

"You speak of the Tome of Eternity." Arctic Wind confirmed, turning to face them fully. "It chronicles tales and legends from across the realm. Master held a keen interest in that tome."

“And is it still here?” His hinds shifted uncomfortably.

“Indeed.”

“Did you hear that?” Veledar tossed back his head with a warble. “It’s here, by the gods, it’s here! Months of trials, pride destroying challenges, oh stars above.” He then froze, eyes narrowing, “Is this the book that was stolen from me months ago?”

Arctic wind continued, unphased, “This was liberated from the adoptive son of the Indominable Aegis. The dragon knew not the value of such an item, it was lifted from- “

“Your master did not liberate it; he stole a valuable family heirloom whose value cannot be measured in mere coin.” Snarled Veledar, azure flames seeking to set the air ablaze. He dug his talons through steel with a screech, “Now let’s not waste more time with talk, show me this book Arctic wind before I tear you and this place asunder.” He gave a harsh snort, “Do not make me speak this again.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Krotos ducked for cover, “You’re going to set her off…and not in the good way!”

“I will bring it to you if you wish.” Replied the spirit, “It is a simple matter, master got what he wished from it already.”

“And what was that?” Veledar cocked his head.

“I was wondering the same thing.” Arcturus added, “What use does a lich have with myths and legends?”

Arctic wind blinked, “That he did not share.”

The knight eyed her with suspicion, not knowing if she was instructed to lie or not. For now, the answer would have to do. Veledar was left grinning, happily swishing his tail as Shandalar inquired about the uniter’s plans and blueprints.

“That can be found here.” She gestured with her wings to the platform and those it connected to. “Among my master’s…less than organized notes.”

“Anything perhaps more specific?”

“Master keeps such things in this room. I cannot say more than this. If he moved it, blame his untidy nature. I keep reminding him to- “

“No prattling on. My book, now.” Veledar snapped his jaws, cutting the dragon off.

“You’re quite an impatient one.” Replied Arctic Wind.

“Your master did steal his book.” Arcturus replied.

“My Umraadi speaks truth, this is me being patient.” He lashed his tail, taking out a table with a solid crack. The piece of furniture toppled over the railing; it sailed to the floor below, shattering with a pride damaging crack. As the others looked at him, his frills burned, he hid this with an amused chuckle, “Meant to do that, already checked it. Terrible craftsmanship, deserved to be destroyed.”

“The plans could have been in there.” Shandalar replied, looming over the edge. Even her practiced patience appeared to be tested, “Hopefully we will find them before having to locate it.”

It was probably best he got out of here, before he took out more things with his tail. He was certain his pride would not survive, plus he’d never hear the end of it. As he instructed the ghost to lead the way he took his first few steps, noting that Arcturus was not following.

“Arcturus?” He swung his head around, tilting it as the man took a position in the middle of three stacks of tomes. “What are you doing?”

“Sifting through these.” He gestured as Krotos chirped and sauntered off to his section, “Figure every pair of eyes is better.”

“Arcturus, look at this, it mentions hard balls!” Krotos laughed, book in hand, only to toss it aside with a serious look. “Tough crowd.”

“You’re…going to wait here?” Veledar growled, lowering his snout and voice but keeping it sharp, “Each step of this journey you’ve been here. Don’t falter on me now at the last few steps Umraadi. You shall bear witness to the exquisite event of the age. Appreciate the beauty of your dragon triumphant, commit to memory the event so clearly that it can be painted by your deft hand and made into songs!”

His hand rested on the dragon’s snout, putting an end to the other dozen or so extravagant ideas dwelling between his horns. “I imagine it will be just as magnificent when you return.” He gestured to Krotos, “Look around, does the great Crimson Sky need my assistance in picking up his book?”

Of course he was right. The dragon grumbled, “No, but I wished for you to be there to revel in the glory with me.” He huffed, “Let the minions work with- “

“I’m not a minion anymore?” Laughed the knight.

“That’s a stupid question Umraadi.” He rumbled, nudging Arcturus’ cheek.

“Very well, but they do need me, you do not.” Fingers caressed crimson scales, dragging out a soft purr. “Faster that you depart, the swifter you return.”

“Hmmpf.” He chuffed, ruffling the man’s hair.

“I’ll start to plan the painting out then.” He wiggled his fingers, “Maybe put in a bit of embellishments?”

“I thought you were not supposed to lie.” From boot to head he searched for him with a grin.

“Can’t be lying if I haven’t seen it.” He countered, tapping the dragon’s nose, “So I suppose I’ll have to go on whatever you tell me.”

He could live with that. The dragon rolled his eyes, “Suppose that will have to do. But I expect praises upon my scales, hours of your worship, affections, to awe in my glorious victory.” He rose his head, adopting a regal pose, “And we all know the real reason you wish to stay.”

“And what is that?”

Salaciousness glimmered in his eyes, relishing the blush coming to his love’s cheeks, “So that you can gander under my tail as I depart. Unsurprising, but ever so satisfying that I catch your eye, even here. Don’t worry, there will be time for that celebrating later.”

“That is most certainly not!”

“Lying again, are we? I do intend to celebrate my victory.” He kissed the man, pleased he didn’t fight it, instead leaving his nose touching his. “And I wish to see how deep these waters go.”

“Be careful.” Arcturus was not to be caught up in the dragon’s teasing as their eyes met. Within those emerald pools dwelled a sea of worry and doubt.

“Come now, the concern is appreciated but look who you’re talking to.”

“An overconfident collection of teeth and scales.”

“One that blows fire and intends to punish you for some insults.” He chuckled playfully, dragging his tongue along Arcturus’ cheek.

“Still-“He lingered, the point clearly made, even the dragon could not maintain his teasing in the face of it.

“I will.” Veledar replied, nudging him with his snout, “Now count the moments until I return Umraadi, I’ll try not to be gone for long.” With a raise of his head he snapped to the ghost, barking off his demand with a lash of his tail. “Alright ghost, show me where my book is!” To his dismay he took out another bookcase, sending it tumbling to the laboratory below.

“Someone get that dragon out here before we have to start looking down there!” Shandalar rounded upon them with a sharpened gaze.

“Fine, fine, I’m going.” Growled the dragon, “But only because I choose to!”

** * * * * * * * * * * *

It took some time, but Krotos was saved from a trap he’d accidentally set off. Several of the books had taken umbrage for him insisting they were useless. The leather-bound things had risen, loosing streams of pungent, nose wrinkling, eye watering liquid that was straight out of their nightmares. It was a noxious concoction of decay and decay, a vile amalgamation of rotting flesh, rancid sewage, and the acrid stench of sulfur, leaving a lingering taste of bitterness and regret upon the tongue.

“Oh god, I can taste it.” Arcturus wheezed, nearly vomiting on the last book he’d sliced in two.

Krotos was left, frozen in horror, his gaze locked upon his feathers as fluid still dripped from his drenched form. He fluttered up, casting the vile embrace to everything around him. “Look at this, smell this!” Screeched the gryph as he flung himself to Arcturus’ side, snatching him and shoving the man into his chest.

It clung to the nostrils like a sinister specter, writhing and twisting with a venomous intensity that seemed to seep into every pore of the skin. “I can smell it…you utter fool!” He gagged, trying to get breath, but it was no use, it tainted every inhale as he tried to get free. “Let me go!”

“Why would they even have books that do that?”

“Troubled to see literature as vain as a gryphon? Maybe Nigel had a sense of humor?”

“I can see that!” He wailed, “And undead wizard with a sense of humor. Wonderful!”

“Can you stop your squawking and release me?” He grits his teeth, trying to tear the gryphon off, “I’d rather not tear you off by force!”

“Stay still.” Shandalar sighed, unphased by the noisy squawker, she grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

“Do as she say.” Arcturus wheezed, doing his best to keep down his vomit.

"By the beak of the gods! Must I endure yet more torment?" squawked Krotos, his feathers fluffing in indignation. "What have I done to deserve such anguish? I've maintained a semblance of saintliness—well, perhaps not quite saintly, more akin to moderately virtuous...alright, not particularly virtuous at all!"

With delicate care, Shandalar laid her hand upon Krotos's arm, weaving a delicate spell that suffused the feathers with a soft, ethereal glow. The pinkish light danced across each plume, accompanied by shimmering sparkles that twirled above his head in a mesmerizing display. As the magic took hold, it was as though a gentle breeze swept through, dispelling the grime and leaving behind the invigorating scent of wildflowers and fresh meadows.

He blinked, scanning himself with a critical eye as he untangled himself from Arcturus. His beak darted across his feathers, smoothing and adjusting each one meticulously. After a thorough inspection, he straightened up with a satisfied chirp. "Oh Shandy, you've saved me a heap of preening and bathing!" He trotted over to her side with a salacious glint in his eye. "Is there anything I can do to repay the favor?"

“Nothing of that nature I assure you.” She pushed off his advances, gesturing to a lower platform below. “Redouble your efforts in searching will be payment enough.”

“Are you sure?” he blinked his eyes innocently, rolling a paw to his chest, “I’ve been told that it’s a night to remember, I pride myself in being well versed in multipl- “

“There is not enough booze on this planet to get me intoxicated enough.” She fished into her bag, procuring for the gryphon a small, palm sized stone with a rune, “If these glows red, come find me, it means there is something magical. That way this sort of thing won’t happen again.” With a nod she whirled around, returning to her search of a series of chalkboards littered with notes.

Krotos rolled his eyes, “She says that, but she has to be lying, right Arcturus?”

“Why would she lie about the rune?”

“Not the rune, were you not listening?” He lashed his tail, “Not enough booze on the planet? Hah!”

“I don’t think that’s the takeaway here.” The knight replied in amusement, “Just do be careful, who knows what else could be here.”

“I’m serious.” Krotos chuckled, “Bend over right now and I’ll show you why they call me the love gryphon, you’ll be lucky to go back to your dragon.” He ruffled his feathers with a wink.

“Calm down before your flagging everywhere balls for brains.” Arcturus laughed, gesturing Krotos onward, only to get a strut down the steps with a swishing tail.

“You’re missing out!”

“Get down there!”

“Use to telling males to get down? Or is it the other way round?”

“Krotos!”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Grumbled the Catbird, starting his descent.

He chuckled to himself before letting his gaze fall to the shifting shadows below, the inky, writhing mass only broken apart by beacons of lavender flames. Up here, he shivered, getting a sense that something lay just below the surface, unending, ever watchful, ready to pounce upon them should they not be ready. Course as he shifted, checking his weapons, he imagined it was ever more diabolical schemes or plots that would chip away at what remained of the image of his kingdom.

For a time, he dug reluctantly through the assorted tomes, scrolls and notes, his stomach churning with every failure. There was no denying that countless souls had suffered and perished at his bony fingers, detailed reports of gruesome research that could only belong to that of a demon. Arcturus felt weight upon his soul with each one, mind fluttering away at what could possess his king, and those before him to trust such a creature. For decades, he and others had been sold on the clandestine image of progress, unity, peace as they fought the greater evils of this world. Had all of this been a lie? His heart sickened, each of their sacrifices, all the struggle, the sorrow that clung to every limb, all of it to pawns to those like the Emerald Lady or this Lich.

Krotos’ voice from below cut through the dreary details, padding his way back over. “It’s not going to ever go back to normal, is it?”

“Depends.” Arcturus glanced around, “Unless Shandalar brought another elemental, this wretched place is going to exist for a time longer.” He frowned, tossing away a report about growing Cthulhid in human brains. “Not that I relish that thought, the amount of ghastly work…it deserves to be put to the sword.” He rose a brow, “Are you not supposed to be searching?”

“I took a break.” He replied, eyes shifting to Shandalar, “I meant our lives, not this- “He trembled, “terrible place.”

“Oh.” He took a moment; the thought had not crossed his mind before. “Suppose with all of this going on, I didn’t stop and think about that.”

He clacked his beak before splaying his ears, a soft whine lowering his head, “After all of this, we shall never be safe. Even if we flee to Tinux, we’ll always have to keep an eye over our shoulders.” The gryphon tossed a book with a whine, “Since I’ve come into Gus’ life, his family has been the ones to pay the price. Bad luck some might say, others cursed. First Gweneth was having trouble with school, then Mary had those sneezing episodes. Now we’ll be on the run for the rest of our lives!” He fluffed his feathers with an indignant squawk, “I’m a rightful bad luck charm.”

“Think you’re being a tad hyperbolic don’t you think?” Arcturus replied softly, “They’d be in this mess with or without you. At least Gus has a kind, caring gryphon like yourself to help them through the hardship.”

“Yea…I suppose.” Krotos pumped his wings with care, “It just gets hard…to focus on that. Especially here.” He gestured around them, “In some mad wizard’s house of horrors.”

“Just think of what needs to be done. How important it is. You heard Shandalar.” He met Krotos’ worried gaze, “The road might not be easy going forward, but you’ll have each other.”

“I guess that will have to be enough.” Chirped the gryph.

“Such is the curse of living in interesting times.”

“I’d prefer quiet times.” Krotos’ feathers ruffled.

“That’s not what Merlia says.” A smirk came to Arcturus’ lips, swiftly joined by the gryphon’s amused chuckle.

“Calm down, you’ll have me thinking I’ve gone mad. Arcturus making lewd jokes to help support a gryphon?” He batted his eyes, “One might think you got an eye for feathers.”

“Alright, calm yourself before you’re flagging.” He pressed back the blue and grey catbird.

He sighed, “Humans, you’d think after two hundred plus years, you’d loosen up.”

“I assure you, I’m loose, when I’m not trying to do a job.”

“Oh really.” Smirked Krotos, eyes gleaming with mischief, “Do tell me, how loose are you?”

“Krotos!”

“Awk, awk, awk.” He practically bounced with laughter, “Fine, how about this, I never signed up for this whole ordeal.”

“You signed up to be a guard. How could you not ever expect to fight?”

“Humanoids, gryphons, every normal day stuff!” He squawked, gesturing to the lab, “Not dealing with monsters, wizards and kingdom shattering secrets!”

“So, what would have made you content?” He rose a brow, “A quiet life?”

“Maybe a dancer in one of the smaller towns or cities.” Sighed Krotos, staring off, “Maybe a preener, I hear the pay is good. I always wanted to be an ESG.”

“An emotional support gryphon? You?” He scoffed at the notion, getting a hiss in return.

“I’m quite good at comforting people.”

“When you’re not trying to sleep with or have them ride your shaft.”

“I mean.” He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze, “That is a way of comforting them. Trust me, I have some techniques that’ll rock your world and have you sleeping like a baby after.” He rolled a hand to his feathery chest, “Wrapped up in the best gryphon embrace you can imagine.”

“Just focus on finding the uniter’s plans lover boy.”

Together they worked side by side, rummaging through documents large and small. They were surrounded by stacks of tomes, parchment and research notes, turning up various dead ends. Arcturus furrowed his brow, realizing this might take ages.

“Find anything yet?” Arcturus called to Shandalar.

The mage was seated in a desk, her nose practically to the parchment she was reviewing. “I’ve found several spells and detailed accounts of some of his journeys. I believe I am onto something, there are several instances of a great golden warrior. I’ll let you know if I find more!”

“You know…We don’t have the same lifespan of you to keep searching.”

“Don’t lose hope captain, we will find it.”

“Tell that to Crimson Sky when he returns.” Chuckled the man, knowing full well the dragon would want to leave.

“I’ll leave the delicate nature of that request in your capable hands. Do whatever is required to keep him here.”

“Anything?” Krotos’ crown feathers rose as he snickered with mischief.

Shandalar heaved a great sigh, “I doubt it will come to that, but do what you must. The Uniter’s plans must be found.”

“Oh, that’s rather amusing.” Chuckled Krotos, planting himself back beside Arcturus. “You heard her, time to seduce the dragon.”

“Last resort.” Arcturus tapped his beak, “Now, focus the mind.”

“How you spoil the fun.” Krotos rolled his eyes, returning to his inquiry, “One wonders how far all of this goes. A lich, that mind eating creature, that construct. Who else knows and helps the shady stuff in our kingdom.”

His brow furrowed at the thought, he had been here for years, whispering his corruptive thoughts into every figure of power. Even his own family had not been free of its influence. “I imagine its depths can only be guessed. Cutting the roots may not be enough to stop his spread, the entire foundation might need to be set ablaze, cleansed with fire.”

“That’s going to take a lot of fire. Lucky us we have a dragon.” Krotos stood up, stretching himself like a cat before padding away, down a spiral staircase to a lower level. “Might as well peruse here. Who knows, maybe we’ll find it before you die of old age.”

** * * * * * * * *