What caused the dragons to fall asleep? We simply do not know. There are theories of course, so worse than others, but the truthful answer is that we may never know until the dragons themselves wake to tell us. Whereas unimportant, the prevailing theory is the sealing of the World-Core cut off the energy needed for the dragons to maintain themselves. There are issues with this, the World-Core was sealed a full decade before Dragonfall and if they are needed the energies to stay awake, will they eventually starve themselves to exhaust?
Their hearts still beat even though Arascus was defeated and Rhomaion fell more than half a century ago. Either they have simply an incredible power of hibernation or the World-Core theory is wrong. The Dragonwake Project was an utter failure, the Forced Awakening experints failed, the Re-sparking Project looks like it will be the final attempt we give to the dragons before moving on. Eventually, they will awake, but it will not be by the generation that this author belongs to.
The first, failed, attempt was the Dragonwake Project. Back then, we were still dealing with the question of whether what befell them (the Dragons) was a physical condition or a spiritual malaise. The Siostr hold was chosen for investigating the physical properties. The Fazba hold was picked for probing their souls. Both holds were chosen because of their remoteness from our main tropolises, and for the fact they possess Worldbreaking-Era fault-lines. Simple precautions, but if it proved that the dragons went mad, then we would have a crevice to bury them in.
- Excerpt from the incredibly rare text: “Chronicling Dragonfall”, written by a team of Dwarven Scholars and Intellectuals.
“Kass?” Iniri heard her voice crack and she did not care one bit. Her vines had flinched in the darkness and her sunflower pulled away from that stunty dwarven ghost. The armoured figure, opaque and green-grey, turned to face the sunflower, spread his legs and tilted his helm back so that he could look down at Iniri’s plants and then raised his hands to either side. For a mont, Iniri wandered what he was doing and then she realised, the ghost-dwarf was waiting for her to strike and fell him.
He could go to hell.
“Iniri?” Kassandora’s hand tapping the cocoon Iniri had shielded herself in pulled the Goddess of Nature back into awareness. “Scout out, scout out right now.” Iniri blinked as she felt Kavaa’s power of raw life once again spill into her.
Her vision turned to the Goddess of Health. A thousand different flower buds saw her as they suddenly sprouted from the thickening vines. They saw the Legion from all angles. The n that simultaneously looked as if they were about to collapse and yet as if they were perfectly rested and ready for battle. Most of them with nothing but scraps of cloth fashioned out of torn clothes to cover their privates, so lacking even that.
Iniri saw the Torchbearer tanks, the two massive Lynx tanks that instead of being fitted with a turret were just the chassis with the spotlight of a lighthouse mounted. They were at the rear, beaming that blinding white light at everything in the hold like two tiny artificial suns on treads. The other vehicles of the vanguard were trundling in the centre of the convoy, guarded on both sides by lines of the strongest defence to exist: n blessed with immortality by Kavaa. The vehicles themselves looked in little better state than the n.
And at the head, most exposed, was Iniri and Kavaa and Kassandora. Iniri herself was in that thick cocoon of wood that was only moving because a series of roots below it where slivering forth on the ground. It was hidden within branches and leaves and poisonous plants. It left a trail of sap on the ground, like a giant snail, as it moved forwards. Kassandora was in her black armour, Joyeuse held in one hand, the greatsword thin and taller than the Goddess herself. That crimson hair, the colour of blood reflecting fla, spilled out from under her helt and over her back like a magnificent cape. And Kavaa, Goddess of Health, the only mber of the Legion who showed even a sign of slowing down. In her coat, a backpack on her back, a rifle over the shoulder, a blade sheathed in the scabbard on her hip, with dull hair falling spilling out behind her. It was definitely getting darker each ti Iniri saw it. Kavaa ca to a lazy stop and lifted her head at the crashing in the distance. “At this rate, I have half a day. Maybe ten hours if we’re unlucky.”
“What did you see Iniri?” Kassandora asked and Iniri’s vines recoiled again at the fact that Kassandora was speaking directly to her.
“A-a ghost.” Iniri’s voice shook and then the Goddess of Nature grabbed herself. It was scary, true, but what was this? It was one thing to be scared, it was another entirely to start acting like a little girl who was having night terrors.
“A ghost?”
“He called world-traitor and pulled a lever.” Iniri could put two and two together to realise that what she was called was nothing positive. From the darkness below them, the sound of tal scraping on tal rumbled through the hold.
“A real one?” Kassandora asked, then imdiately clarified herself. “As in he pulled a real lever? A physical one.”
“A real one.” Iniri said and realised why Kassandora was asking. Since when could ghosts touch reality? They killed by hurting the soul. In the Great War, Neneria left a trail of woundless bodies in her wake, utterly dead in a way no healing could ever bring back, yet without a single speck of injury on the body. Kassandora did not even take a mont to think on the situation.
“We’re retreating.” Kassandora said imdiately and with so much decisive confidence that Iniri did not know if it was even possible to argue with a tone like that.
“We are?” Kavaa asked. The Legion ca to a full stop although Iniri had spent enough ti with Kassandora now to recognise when War’s Orchestra started to play and command the n. She couldn’t hear the instrunts, Kassandora had pulled her in, but she could see the movents of the Legionnaires beco tighter and more organised. They started marching to a beat only they heard, the vehicles all ca to a simultaneous stop.
“Orderly.” Kassandora said, she held her hand up and grabbed Kavaa as the Goddess of Health leaned over to the side. As bad as Kavaa looked physically though, with her cheeks going pale, the woman’s flow of power was not stopping one bit. The Legion took a step back, the tanks and trucks and cars did not turn, they rely switched to reverse gear. n turned and Kassandora wrapped her arm around Kavaa’s. “Co on.”
“Kass…” Kavaa said as she leaned from side to side. “I’m not…” She took a deep breath. “If we go back, we’re not pushing through. I’ll need to rest.”
“Then you’ll rest, I don’t anything less than certainty.” Kassandora said and Kavaa laughed.
“Leona really gave you a scare, didn’t she?”
“She was the best teacher I could hope for.” Kassandora as she circled around Kavaa and forcibly turned the Goddess around. Kavaa gently turned with her. “Iniri, cover our back in case anything happens.”
“I’ve got you.” Iniri replied. It was amazing wasn’t it? When those two were the brave ones, Iniri had felt her teeth chattering. Now that Kavaa looked as if she was on the edge of collapse, Iniri’s body simply sequestered the fear away sowhere. She didn’t know where or how to consciously access this power, and she could still feel that sheer terror in the face of the overwhelming darkness that flooded through Fazba, but the terror could not touch her. Not even when she heard tal on stone and sothing else crash.
Her plants moved further out, they ignored that ghastly dwarf as they wrapped around the bridge. The half man smirked at her sunflower. “You will not leave this hold alive. Try to flee world-traitor.”
“The dwarf is talking to Kass.” Iniri said. “It’s called a world-traitor again.”
Kassandora half-supported, half-pulled Kavaa forwards as she marched back towards the grand bronze gate of Fazba. They had crossed what? A mile into the hold? Not far at all. “That’s the na the dwarves had for the White Pantheon back then. He probably still rembers you, Fazba was lost before the war ended.”
“Oh.” Iniri said as her vines pushed into dark corridors. They pushed through doors and scouted bed and table and chair. The slithered and felt weapon racks and fridges. Quills and stacks of papers. They felt empty suits of armour and skeletons left behind from long ago. There was no light but the thod was much the sa as when Iniri mapped out roots.
The ghostly dwarf was knocked down as Iniri’s roots reached the lever and pushed it back up. It gave precisely no resistance whatsoever. When her roots left it, it loosely fell back down to the position the dwarf had pushed it to. “You can’t stop him now.” The dwarf said, Iniri’s roots smacked the dwarf and…
She had just tried to collapse the wall onto him to shut him up. And instead, her vine impacted on the dwarf and tore him in two. Wait… She had knocked him back when she reached for the lever the first ti! “I touched him.” Iniri imdiately reported. “I touched the ghost. My vines did Kass.”
It was just like reporting sothing in the Great War. Back then, especially during the start, there hadn’t been the luxury to argue. Those first three decades, when Arascus’ Empire always had the initiative and when the White Pantheon could not score a single victory were so of the best of Iniri’s life. That was before Fortia started judging and before Maisara and Allasaria had started to clamour into the positions of leadership. “You touched the dwarf?” Kassandora had to repeat herself. “You touched a ghost?”
“I did.” Iniri said. “I don’t know how, I ripped him in half.” Kavaa chuckled and shook her head at that.
“Keep up the retreat, we don’t-“ Kassandora cut off as the bridge they were on suddenly shook. A crack ford down the centre of it. A piece not wrapped by vines fell down. “RUN! INIRI SUPPORT IT!” The Goddess of Nature didn’t need the order in the first place. The mont the spiderweb of flora, from root to vine to flower to bark, mapping out the bridge felt movent, oaks began to sprout from them like rainbows being sent down from the sky.
The trees barrelled into stone structures like cannonballs. They breached and hooked around and into pillars, they tugged into balconies and found holds in windows and doors and terraces and bridges. Kassandora’s Legion imdiately changed their organised march into a sprint. n ran to the side, telepathically managed to make clearings for trucks that reversed at full speeds and the few remaining tanks which turned on the spot to use their full, forward speed in the escape.
And from the darkness, a ghost barrelled into the grand bronze gates of Fazba. As if thrown or launched by a catapult. Then another. Ten. A hundred. A thousand. Dwarves in the ancient scalemail of the Great War, wielding weapons crafted for felling the White Pantheon armies of the past. Five lines of pikes dropped down to the ground. Kassandora’s tanks imdiately opened fire, there wasn’t even a mont of hesitation as Iniri’s trees that held up the buckled. “Six hours at this rate.” Kavaa said as she started to slow down.
A truck barrelled into the enemy lines, then made a sharp turn. Its wheels lost traction, its back hooked around and it slamd sideways into the ghosts. Iniri’s eyes bulged as she saw the dwarves be knocked into the air or crushed by the weight behind the heavy tires. Kassandora’s Legion raised their weapons as they closed the distance. Tanks opened fire. The dwarves charged forwards.
But not all of them. A hundred or so remained behind. Open, gauntleted, grey-green and opaque ghastly palm hit hard and cold and borderline-indestructible bronze. And with an organised shout, the boot slamd into stone and the dwarves started to push. Behind them, the bridge started to collapse as sothing roared from deeper in the hold. Iniri saw Kassandora slide Kavaa onto her back as the Goddess of Nature raced forwards to stop the grand gates from shutting.
A bridge from above was brought down onto them. Vines that were moving to stall the bronze gate suddenly had to arc upwards to catch that stone. The dwarven phalanx ahead of the rearranged itself around the truck that slamd into them and lowered their pikes. Kassandora’s n stopped their charge just monts before impaling themselves on the spears. They stepped aside, a tank rolled forwards. Ghosts were torn apart under its treads. A spear was jamd into a wheel. A tread ca off. The ghosts cheered. An explosion from another tank ruptured through their ranks. Kassandora’s n charged in. Iniri’s ruptured outwards as the Goddess of Nature raised her hands to catch the second bridge. There were dwarves on the terraces working with pickaxes, slamming them down onto the stone. Grey green and opaque. And more hauled out arbalests. Those enormous ballista that had been left behind now were being loaded.
“Go, I will catch up.” Iniri said. Just as Kavaa and Kassandora were there for her. She was here for them. The Goddess of Nature raised her hands. The vines sprouted acorns. The acorns grew in a matter of second into tight oak. The oaks widened into walls. The walls surrounded the Legion from above and the sides and below like a natural turtle or a grown fortress wall. Kassandora’s n pushed onwards as ballista bolts smashed into the wood. Leaves grew from the oak, they sharpened their edges into razor blades. A branch launched a rain of them into the dwarven phalanx. Another smashed downwards with a hamr of roots wrapped around it. Kassandora saw the opening, her n charged in imdiately and silently as another truck swerved, purposefully fell over and barrelled through the dwarves.
n engaged in lee, Kassandora brought herself to a stop. “The Gates!” She shouted. Iniri heard the shout. She pulled on the life Kavaa was still expelling. Trees to hold up the cracking bridge they stood on. Trees to protect them from the falling masonry of above. Trees to shield them from the bows and arbalests and ballista on the sides. She tried to grab. Sothing had to go. Iniri stared ahead as her mind searched for sothing to cut.
And then it went blank as Iniri’s eyes widened. From ahead of them, a glow from the darkness. Grey-green. Sickly. The colour of what plague left behind, the stain that ca not from violent combat but from a demise forgotten. The colour of Death. It arced up out of the Fazba Faultline.
Not a small paint-drop of the ethereal mistakenly splashed onto reality but a beast so huge it slathered all material with its immaterial. With wing and spine and claw and tooth and eye. Those huge wings beat, arms and legs arced forwards as it slamd and gripped onto the ceiling, rupturing cracks like lightning through it and sending dust falling down over everything.
It saw Iniri.
And Iniri realised that a thousand years of peace had made her forget just what sort of horrors still resided on Arda.
The ghost-dragon roared.
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