I stood stock-still, my mind a knotted ball of threads, each one tugging at the other. Who wouldn’t be in such a state? Yet, curiously, there was no suffocating aura of danger emanating from her. Her—the red-scaled beast—lood just behind . Worse still, she knew. She knew I was a dragon. My pulse was a staccato drumbeat, though, as usual, my badger companion remained gloriously unbothered. With a chirp and a cheerful wag of her tail, she greeted the beast as if it were an old friend popping round for tea.
Ah, yes. She had returned the badger to . Credit where credit was due, I supposed. But even so, prudence demanded a cautious approach. Ever so slowly, I turned, craning my neck in a deliberate arc to steal a glance behind .
And then I froze, but not for the reason you might think.
It wasn’t the red-scaled beast anymore. Not as such.
Instead, standing there was a woman cloaked in a gown of sumptuous, blood-red fabric that shimred like molten rubies caught in candlelight. She towered—easily over nine feet, dwarfing any human—with a grace that seed almost indecent for soone of her stature. Her piercing eyes found mine, gleaming with a mixture of amusent and sothing disarmingly… fond.
“Erm… h-hello?” I managed, my voice wobbling like a hatchling’s first attempt at a roar. Imdiately, I felt the sting of regret. Why, oh why, did I even try?
To my utter shock, she smiled. A sharp, indulgent smile that was equal parts predatory and… oddly comforting, like a wolf tucking in its lamb for a nap.
“Oh, darling,” she purred, her tone dripping with mockery and affection in equal asure. “That little squeak was adorable. So nervous, so polite! Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”
I blinked. Huh? Words evaded entirely. “I, uh… well—”
“Hush, now,” she interrupted with an airy wave of her hand. A second voice, identical to hers, chid in from behind, “Let have a proper look at you.”
Her double now circled , heels clicking softly against the ground as though it were a marble ballroom rather than a monster-stained battlefield. She appraised with a critical eye, tilting her head like a connoisseur examining a flawed yet intriguing piece of art.
“Mmm. You’re real,” she mused. “Albeit a bit scrawnier than I’d hoped, even after your evolution.” Her crimson lips curled into a smirk. “But that’s quite alright. You’ll grow into those claws of yours… eventually.”
I bristled, my pride rankling. This was not how I’d imagined this encounter playing out.
“Oh, don’t pout, little one. You’re charming as you are. And there’s a spark in you—a little fire. I quite like that.”
Before I could formulate a snappy retort, her sharp, elegant fingers tapped my snout, and, to my utter mortification, I instinctively leaned into the touch. She laughed, a rich, lodious sound.
“You remind of myself,” she said, her voice almost wistful. “A scrappy little thing with far too much to prove. And look at now.” She gestured grandly to herself. “Granted, I’ve still a long road ahead, but that hunger you have… it’s rather nostalgic. Couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride watching you. I even lent a hand, here and there. Shielded you from so prying eyes, tilted the odds in your favour—just a smidge.” She winked, her aning clear.
My eyes widened. So soone had been deflecting divination attempts. That explained Elnor’s recent wobbles at his supposed red core.
“I, uh… thank you for—” I began, but she cut off again, this ti with a maternal pat on my head.
“Hush, little one,” she said with a grin. “No need for gratitude. If anything, I should thank you for keeping entertained!”
… Yes, sothing was definitely off about all this. Part of wanted to demand how long she’d been watching , but my better judgnt suggested shelving that line of inquiry. Instead, I offered a tentative smile—or at least, I hoped it was a smile. With my face, it was likely more of a nightmare-inducing grimace.
“Now, what shall we do with you, hmm? You’ve certainly been causing quite the stir,” her clone mused, circling with deliberate, catlike precision.
“Hmm, just let go, I guess?” I ventured, though even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.
The towering woman’s lips curled into a grin that could only be described as indulgent, leaning just slightly closer. “Oh, let you go, you say? My dear, you wound ,” she said, her voice a honeyed with mock offense. “After all, I’ve gone through such trouble on your behalf. Simply cutting you loose now would feel... unsporting.”
The clone, still circling with that unnervingly elegant gait, chid in with a tilt of her head. “Besides, you’ve proven to be such delightful entertainnt. Letting you go? Whatever would I do for fun?”
Whatever she was, she was powerful. The kind of powerful that made even seasoned delvers tread lightly. I reckoned she was easily gold core, if not more. I had questions—far too many of them—but foremost among them was: where did I stand in her grand design? She knew what I was, had been watching , and yet bore no trace of hostility. But her motives? Those were a mystery wrapped in silk and smoke. My wings twitched, betraying my unease, though the badger, ever oblivious, pawed at my snout, wagging her tail as though this were all so jolly afternoon ga.
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“Look,” I began, trying for a steadier tone this ti, “I don’t an to sound ungrateful—because, honestly, I do appreciate the whole… ‘saving from prying eyes’ thing, and even giving a leg up against that red core,” I paused, trying to read her reaction, “but I’m really not much of a long-term pet.”
The clone paused mid-step, her lips curving into a smirk that made instantly regret my word choice. “Pet?” she echoed, rolling the word on her tongue. “Oh, little one, don’t flatter yourself. If I wanted a pet, I’d have chosen sothing a bit more... polished. No offense, of course. You’re endearing, but let’s be honest—you’re more of an… entertaining street cat.”
The original clapped her hands softly, the sound strangely lodious. “Yes! A street cat. Scrappy, slightly feral, always stumbling into situations far beyond her station. The parallels to my younger days are uncanny. Really, it’s almost touching.”
I bristled at the “feral” remark, but before I could muster a sharp retort, she stepped closer, her piercing eyes eting mine. It was only then I realised that, despite her towering height, she was still level with —a reminder of my own recent growth that I wasn’t yet accustod to.
“Now, here’s the thing, darling,” she said softly, her tone dropping into sothing dangerously intimate. “It’s not my decision alone. You see, so of my peers wouldn’t hesitate to snatch you up this instant—whisk you off to so high tower on the far side of this forsaken continent, guarded day and night by The Order’s finest. After all, a dragon is… well, let’s say you’re an asset of unimaginable value.”
That statent alone carried layers. Forsaken continent? The Order? Her peers? My mind barely had ti to begin untangling the threads before she continued, cutting through my thoughts.
“But I’m not like them,” she said, with a sly smile. “I won’t rob you of your choice. No, if you’re to follow , it will be because you choose to. And to make that choice, you’ll need to know more. But for now—ah, just a mont.”
A rustling in the bushes broke the mont, and one of her clones erged, dragging a struggling elf by the scruff like an unruly pup. Without ceremony, the clone dropped him at her feet and vanished.
It took but a heartbeat to recognize him. Black hair. Stocky, for an elf. Heralas—the cultists’ second leader. The mont his gaze landed on , his face drained of all colour, as though he'd just caught sight of his own ghost. Feeling the awkwardness settle in, I gave him a half-hearted wave with one claw. Splendid—my nerves, clear as day.
But alas, his alarm wasn’t directed at . No, his wide, panicked eyes flitted between the crimson-clad woman before him and her identical doppelgänger. The poor chap looked positively beside himself with dread.
"Now then," she purred, her grin growing wicked. "The real question is... what to do with you?"
"Hopefully it doesn’t involve killing , like you did to that noble whinger just now," he managed, sohow dredging up a sliver of cheek despite his obvious terror.
“Oh, fret not,” she replied airily. “Your life holds far more value to than his ever did. Besides, with your current strength, you’d barely make a passable snack.”
That little jab made him bristle like a startled cat.
“But, as always,” she continued with a languid wave of her hand, “I like to give people options. You follow them... or find yourself wishing for nightmares instead.”
"I’m going to regret this no matter what,” he spat, though his bravado was clearly on its last legs. “So, out with it. What dastardly deed do you want to perform? Be your spy? Slay another noble? Or sothing equally sinister?”
"Ah, that’s where you’re wrong," she said, her smile sharpening. "What I’m offering is nothing short of a life-changer. I’ve seen through you—watched your every move, heard your whispered doubts when you thought yourself alone. I’ve been beside you since the mont you set foot in this dungeon.”
His complexion turned an impressive shade of bone-white, his terror a feast for her predatory grin.
As for ? Well, I was rely a bystander in this twisted drama. My badger companion nudged with a monster core from my pack, and with a casual pop, I swallowed it. The familiar spark of power rippled through , and a notification flashed across my vision: 1 Maximum Mana. Lovely timing, truly.
“Your doubts, Heralas, are well-founded,” she pressed on. “The goddess you’ve spent your life worshiping is gone. Replaced. What now answers your prayers is no divine being—it’s an imposter. And worse, it’s spreading its influence, amassing an army to consu this continent whole.”
"I… might need you to elaborate on that," Heralas stamred, clearly not thrilled with this revelation.
I found myself sharing the sentint.
“No need to get bogged down in details—yet. Let make my intentions crystal clear. My goal,” she declared with an unsettlingly cheery smile, “is to kill the Royal Family of Lithrindel.”
With that, a massive system-like screen materialized before Heralas and her. His eyes widened in shock.
“Soul magic…” he breathed, his voice trembling.
Did he just call the screen soul magic?
“What a quaint term,” she replied with a shake of her head.
“But… only the highest clergy have access to soul magic!” he blurted, his disbelief spilling over.
“Ah, that’s where you’ve been duped,” she said, bemused. “Soul magic is the foundation of magic outside this continent. Keeping it locked away in the hands of the clergy? Pure, laughable control tactics. Pathetic, really. Anyway, back to business—this contract here is my little way of keeping you in line. Break it, and you’ll wish I’d ended you here and now.”
The screen floated ominously beside him, its glowing text clear to all but , apparently.
"Other than pledging undying loyalty and keeping mum about what you’ve told , there doesn’t seem to be much here. What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” she said breezily. “Carry on as usual. Spin a tale about why your little ritual went awry. This contract will shield you from any pesky divination attempts.”
Heralas nodded reluctantly. “And the part where you said you’d help reach my true potential?”
“Soul magic,” she replied simply. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. For now, play the shepherd—gather the terrified flock cowering in that cave of yours and get them in line. I’ll drop by for a little chat later to hash out the finer points.”
With a flick of her wrist, Heralas vanished, though it was clear he had more to ask. She turned to then, her deanor softening in a way that made my scales itch.
“First things first,” she said. “I always forget my manners. Let introduce myself properly. Gweneth Draycotte, current head of the Grey Tower. Though you, my dear Jade, may call Gwen.” Her smile widened with warmth. “Now, shall we pay your father a visit? I imagine you’ve been missing him terribly.”
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