Rise Of Orthros

Chapter Three

The air in the forest surrounding Gandor was thick, clinging to Aesthra like a heavy cloak. Each breath felt like a battle against an unseen force, an overwhelming stench that hinted at decay and despair. Her emerald eyes swept over the dense canopy overhead, shadows weaving between the branches, wrapping the world in foreboding.

As Ruvean led the way, she could sense the unease radiating from him, too. Eres, his dragon, shifted beneath him, its bulk always attuned to danger.

“Eldur andans, Eldur ljóss. Ég bið þig að sýna mér leiðina,” Aesthra murmured, as a yellow hues of light came from her hand.

As they continued walking, Aesthra tucked in a breath, a large one as a strong smell hit her, "It smells like death. Like..." She hesitated, the thought too grim to articulate. Instead, her gaze darted to Cyrelle, who was adjusting her headpiece, her azure eyes narrowing as she wrinkled her nose.

“Ugh,” Cyrelle groaned, flicking her pink hair over her shoulder. “What’s that awful smell? It’s like a filthy troll snuck over here and rotted over a campfire.” She turned to face Aesthra resolutely. “Are you certain we should be doing this?”

“It has to be done. We have to find out why the dragon is attacking,” Aesthra replied tersely, annoyance flaring.

“Shouldn’t we just head back?” Samuel interjected, peeling back a vine that seemed to sway with malevolent intent. “Stay close to the village and figure out what’s wrong there, right?”

“No!” Aesthra snapped, a flash of frustration invading her tone. “We need to deal with the dragon first. Its further in this cave, ”

“Easy, Aesthra.” Ruvean stepped in, his voice calm but decisive. “Samuel, Estonia, Peregrin, you three head back to the village. Keep an eye on Blane. Whatever's happening here is beyond our understanding for now.”

“What about you?” Peregrin asked, glancing at Aesthra, uncertainty swirling in his eyes. “What if something were to happen? You’ll be alone.”

“I’ll be fine.” Ruvean’s assurance resonated in a low baritone. “We’ll handle this. Right, Aesthra?”

“Right,” she agreed, though a knot twisted in her stomach. Yet, as they prepared to part, trouble etched into the features of the others made her heart clench.

After a moment of silence, Samuel finally conferred a reluctant nod. “Fine, but you all better be careful.”

“Just get going,” Aesthra said, offering a faint smile, though it felt far too tense. The weight of the forest pressed around them, amplifying their worry.

With a final exchange of glances, Samuel, Erasto, and Peregrin turned and began making their way back toward the village. Aesthra watched them disappear into the murky depths of the woods before shifting her focus back to the looming mouth of the cave. It yawned open, swallowing light and offering only darkness in return.

“Let’s get to it,” Ruvean stated, striding forward with purpose.

Aesthra caught up to him, "Eldur andans, Eldur ljóss. Ég bið þig að sýna mér leiðina." The soft glow illuminated the jagged entrance to the cave, revealing damp stone walls slick with moisture. Shadows danced violently, creating phantoms that seemed to whisper in the darkness.

“It’s darker than I expected,” Cyrelle said softly, her usual sparkle dimmed by foreboding. “What do you think we’ll find?”

“Let’s hope it’s just a lost dragon,” Aesthra replied, summoning courage, unwilling to succumb to the dread that threatened to unravel her resolve.

As they ventured deeper, the stench intensified, a caustic mixture of wood and rotting flesh that invaded their senses. Aesthra wrinkled her nose, fighting back bile. The deeper they went, the more the air grew stagnant, but they pressed forward.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Cyrelle groaned, covering her mouth with her arm. “Can’t we get a breeze in here, or something?”

Aesthra’s heart raced at her friend’s discomfort. “Focus on the light spell,” she instructed, narrowing her concentration on the glowing orb floating before her. “We need to keep pushing. The dragon could be in trouble.”

There was little time to ponder the consequences of their quest. As they came around a bend, the cave shifted, revealing an expansive chamber strewn with debris. Aesthra’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, feeling her stomach drop.

Scattered around were the lifeless forms of baby dragons, their scales dulled, their wings unfurled as if caught in a last moment of despair. Aesthra felt the heat rise to her cheeks, tears flooding her eyes, unable to understand the horror laid bare before them.

Cyrelle gasped, pulling Aesthra back as if sensing her urge to rush toward the fallen younglings. “Aesthra… we should—”

“No! We have to see. We need to know!” Her voice fractured, arms trembling as emotions surged—grief, fury, anguish.

“Look at them,” Cyrelle said, voice trembling now. “They were just babies.”

“We need to find the mother,” Ruvean clarified, his voice steady, guiding like a beacon. “If she’s here, we can help her. Stay strong.”

“But how could anyone…” Aesthra’s voice faltered as she knelt down, reaching for one of the small bodies. Its scales glimmered faintly in the dim light, a tragic reminder of life extinguished before it flourished. “What could have done this?”

Ruvean’s expression turned serious, as he glanced around the cave. “We need to move. The mother’s instinct would be to draw us away. We follow the scent.”

“The scent?” Cyrelle echoed. “I can’t smell much of anything but—”

“Exactly,” Aesthra interjected urgently, shaking her head. “It’s so strong now. The mother must be close. Come on.”

She followed Ruvean deeper into the cave, the sensation of creeping despair enveloping her. Each step felt heavy, but she pressed on, heart racing in anticipation yet terror coiling in her chest.

As they turned another corner, Aesthra halted. Just ahead lay a clearing, dimly lit—a powerful glow emanating from a beautiful purple dragon, its scales shimmering like luscious amethyst in the faint light.

“By the gods…” Cyrelle whispered, awe overtaking her fear.

“Stay back,” Ruvean commanded softly, stepping in front of Aesthra. “Let me approach first.”

“No,” Aesthra took a breath, shock overriding her instincts. “She’s hurt. I know it.”

The dragon lay curled protectively around the few surviving hatchlings, its eyes swollen with distress and rage. As if sensing their presence, it lifted her head, its gaze settling on Aesthra, flickering between curiosity and fury.

“Please,” Aesthra pleaded, her heart racing as she stepped forward, arms raised in a gesture of goodwill. “We’re here to help. We didn’t mean to intrude.”

The air turned electric, tension thrumming in the cave as the purple dragon uttered a low growl, vibrating through the ground beneath them.

“Don’t move,” Ruvean hissed, body taut, ready for whatever reaction came next.

“Aesthra, this isn’t a good idea,” Cyrelle cautioned, her hand hovering just near her sidearm.

But there was an undeniable connection, a spark of understanding that propelled Aesthra forward. “I can sense your pain. Please, let us help.”

The dragon tilted its head, keen awareness pooling in its immense eyes, searching Aesthra’s soul with an intensity that took her breath away. In that moment, time froze—the reality of their surroundings fading as a silent pact formed in the air between them.

“Don’t… do anything rash,” Ruvean warned under his breath, stepping cautiously beside her.

“I will not hurt you.” Aesthra’s voice trembled, but she stood firm, the reality of the cave, the dead baby dragons, sinking like a stone in her gut. She felt the dragon’s pain resonate deep within her, a mirror reflecting back the loss she’d battled through her own life. “Tell me what happened.”

A low rumble filled the cave, resonating not merely from the dragon's chest, but from the very depths of despair woven through the stone. Impossibly, the dragon pushed forward ever so slightly, a gesture that hinted at surrender.

With trembling fingers, Aesthra reached out, allowing the connection to break the barrier of fear that hung in the cavern. Warmth surged through her hand as she made contact with the dragon’s shifting scales.

“We can fix this,” Aesthra urged softly, sensing the shimmer of magic throbbing between them. “You’re not alone.”

In that heartbeat, she felt the dragon’s essence intertwine with hers, merging into a bond that could transcend the walls encasing their souls—a bond that promised to resist the tides of destruction clawing at their existence.

Translations:

Bjarter af ljósi, bjarter af eldi. Ég bið þig að sýna mér dreka ela - Fire of breath, fire of light. I ask you to show me the way

Koma frá langt og nær, sumar kindur fyrir vini mína að éta - Bring from far and near, some sheep for my friends to eat