Rise Of Orthros

Chapter Two

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and violet, Ruvean and the dragon guild descended gracefully into the clearing beside the village of Gandor. With a gentle thud, Eres landed, his powerful wings folding seamlessly against his thick back. Ruvean swung off his dragon and immediately felt the tremor beneath Eres’s scales, a subtle shift that sent a whisper of unease down his spine.

Something was off.

While the other riders dismounted, Ruvean’s gaze swept across the quaint village that stood before them. Thatched roofs gleamed dully in the twilight, and the air was thick with the stirring of apprehension. Aesthra leaped from Ethiopia, her eyes scanning the surroundings like twin emerald searchlights. He could see the discomfort etched in her posture—her hands gripped the hilt of her sword exposed beneath her flowing emerald robe, her stance poised yet tense.

“It feels wrong, doesn’t it?” Aesthra said softly, her voice barely above a murmur as she stepped closer to him.

He nodded, meeting her gaze. "I can feel it too."

Just then, a figure approached, breaking the palpable tension lingering in the air. The mayor of Gandor, Blane, shuffled forward, his visage warm but eyes reflecting a shadow of fear. “Welcome, esteemed dragon riders of Azure Peak! I am Blane, the mayor here. We’re grateful for your timely arrival.”

“Thanks for having us, Blane,” Ruvean replied, extending a hand. “What can you tell us about the dragon attacks?”

Blane took a deep breath, his brows knitting together as he gestured toward the dense forest that loomed on the outskirts of the village. “Over the past fortnight, the village has been beset by a dragon, one that seems to have made a den in the mountains. Many farmers have lost livestock, and worse, some villagers have gone missing.”

Aesthra leaned in closer, curiosity piqued. “Does the dragon seem aggressive, or has it shown signs of stress?”

“Both,” Blane said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “The first attack was on a few sheep—now we’ve seen it dare to swoop down on those gathering firewood. It’s become... erratic.”

“Dragons are not usually so unprovoked,” Aesthra muttered, her eyes narrowing as she shifted her gaze toward the tangled trees. “They only attack if they feel threatened.”

“What do you mean by ‘threatened’?” Erasto interjected, his tone sharp, laced with skepticism.

“Aesthra knows dragons. She’s one of the best,” Ruvean retorted, shooting Erasto a warning glance.

“But have you ever heard of a dragon going after—”

“Erasto, enough!” Ruvean’s voice rang out, firm and resonant. “Let’s focus on why we’re here.” He turned back to Blane. “Could you lead us to where you think the dragon is hiding?”

“Of course,” Blane nodded, leading the group with a hurried gait, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. “There’s a cave at the base of the mountain. It seemed dormant at first, but recent tremors indicate—”

As they walked along the well-worn path towards the mountain’s base, Aesthra slipped closer to Ruvean, her fingers brushing his. It was a slight touch, one barely perceptible to anyone else but significant enough for him to feel the warmth seep into his skin. Her eyes held a flicker of trepidation, and in that moment, he understood the depth of her concern, shared long before words were spoken.

“Something doesn't feel right,” Aesthra whispered, her voice tinged with urgency. Something inside her was telling her it wasn't.

“What do you suggest we do?” Ruvean replied quietly, his heart racing as they continued to trail behind Blane.

“Just keep your senses sharp. I sense more than just a dragon lurking in that cave,” she murmured, her gaze drifting back towards the looming shadows in the distance.

Blane halted beside a clearing where the forest thickened, allowing a good view of the mountain. “The cave lies just up there,” he said, pointing directly at the mouth of the cave, shrouded in mist and mystery. “Wild tales swirl about that mountain — that’s why the villagers are scared.”

Laughter erupted from Samuel, breaking the tension. “Wild tales can keep hearts racing! I once heard about a dragon that—”

“Enough heroics, Samuel,” Cyrelle chided playfully, yet she stepped closer to Samuel with a grin, her azure eyes sparkling. “Let’s just hope this adventure is free of ghost stories and involved dragons.”

“Right,” Ruvean agreed. “Blane, do the locals know of any disturbances that might have provoked the dragon?”

“Rumors,” Blane looked down, scrunching his brow. “Witchcraft, strange lights in the forest... our people are superstitious.”

“Or perhaps it’s just a dragon defending its territory,” Aesthra offered. “Still, it makes no sense for one to attack unprovoked.”

A strange rustling sound echoed in the distance, making the group pause. Eres growled low, his chest rumbling gently while Ethiopia instinctively unfurled her wings. The tension crackled in the air, and Aesthra stared out between the trees, her expression a tempest of concentration.

“Ruvean,” she said, quickly pulling his attention back. “If it’s agitated, we should reconsider our approach.”

“Right. Stay on guard,” he instructed the guild, his voice steady.

Blane took a step back, his breath quickening. “If you’re going up there, please—watch yourself. Just a week ago, one of the livestock keepers claimed to see something... more than just a dragon. Something darker.”

“What do you mean?” Ruvean pressed, eyeing the mayor’s tremulous face.

“Dark figures that loom long and tall,” the mayor stammered. “With sharp teeth and eyes that gleamed like coals, waiting just out of reach.”

“Looks like we’re not facing just a dragon,” Aesthra noted, her voice laden with seriousness. “We may have company—”

The forest trembled, sending a shudder coursing through the ground beneath them. Aesthra’s grip tightened on Ruvean’s hand as she felt the earthquake of movement nearby.

“Stay close!” Ruvean commanded, his words sharp as arrows. “We enter together.”

As they approached the cave, darkness spilled forth like a cloak, and the air thickened with an odd, sulfuric scent. “We might need torches,” Cyrelle suggested, her voice twinged with apprehension.

“Peregrin, you and Samuel,” Ruvean indicated, pointing toward the pack. “Get us some light.”

As the two set off to gather supplies, Aesthra’s heart raced. She could feel more than just the air around them shifting; an unsettling sensation encroached upon her senses. It was as if tendrils of magic spiraled from the cave’s depths, snaking around her spirit like a well-honed sword.

“Shouldn't we wait for them?” Erasto asked, a mutter beneath his breath.

“We move now; there's no time to sit idle,” Ruvean replied, taking a step forward. “We investigate the cavern while they gather what we need.”

“Be cautious!” Blane called after them, his voice tinged with foreboding.

Ruvean led the charge, with Aesthra at his side, both their gazes locked on the mouth of the cave. The camaraderie of their guild was a warmth in the seeping chill of unease, a human bond against the heavy uncertainty that layered the atmosphere.