Rise Of Orthros

Chapter Five

The crackling of the campfire resonated softly as the night draped its velvet cloak over Gandor. Aesthra sat cross-legged on the cool earth, her nimble fingers weaving through Cyrelle’s long pink hair, shaping it into delicate braids. The glow from the flames danced in their eyes, illuminating the determination on Aesthra's face.

"How about a more intricate design?" Aesthra suggested, her voice gentle yet commanding, a stark contrast to the earlier tension over the dragon incident. "Something that keeps the spirit of the forest alive with your beauty."

Cyrelle chuckled, her azure eyes twinkling in amusement. "You know me too well. Make sure it has enough flair; I need to impress Rynnoa."

"I think she’s already impressed," Ruvean interjected, glancing from his seat beside Samuel, the glint in his azure eyes reflecting the firelight.

Peregrin leaned forward, his small stature barely keeping his bushy eyebrows in check. "She could win the award for Best Forest Spirit! Right, Samuel?" The goblin’s infectious grin only widened at his own joke.

Samuel rolled his eyes, chuckling. "I’m sure that’ll be a contest we won’t want to join.”

“Ha! Just wait until I start weaving flowers into Cyrelle’s hair. That will be a sight!” Aesthra quipped, her laughter blending with the night.

Erasto, leaning against a nearby tree, snorted dismissively, arms crossed over his chest. “As if beauty contests matter in this situation. Maybe focus on keeping your heads attached instead.”

Aesthra shot him a pointed glare while continuing her work. "Better to focus on beauty than brutality, Erasto. Something you wouldn’t grasp, I’m afraid."

"You think you’re better than me, Goldendawn?" he retorted, the edge in his tone climbing.

“Better than mistreating animals? Yes,” Aesthra said pointedly, her hands pausing momentarily before returning to their task.

Ruvean seamlessly diverted the flow of conversation. "We need to discuss what we found in the cave," he said, staring at each guild member, drawing them to the gravity of the matter at hand.

“Right, grim business,” Samuel acknowledged, serious now.

"The hatchlings weren't just dead. They were… slaughtered," Ruvean continued, his voice tinged with barely suppressed anger. “It was a massacre.”

Cyrelle gasped softly. “How could anyone do that?”

“We need to find out what the villagers were thinking,” Ruvean replied, clenching his fists. “We can’t let this become a repetitive cycle of violence.”

Erasto rolled his eyes again. “You’re taking their side now? Just because they had their livestock stolen?”

Aesthra threw down the last braid with a final flick of her wrist, sitting upright. “It doesn’t matter if it was livestock or something else. They could’ve come to us. No one needed to die!”

“People don't think straight when they're scared; that’s how wars start,” Samuel chimed in, his voice calm yet asserting the truth of his words.

Ruvean leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, contemplation etched firmly on his features. “We need proof that it wasn't just mindless aggression.”

“Agreed,” Cyrelle said softly. “We should investigate further at first light—see if there are any signs of the dragons nearby.”

"Yeah, I don't like the sound of what Blane told us," Aesthra added, her brow furrowing in concern.

Erasto stood up and brushed dirt off his clothes. “Whatever. We’re just wearing ourselves thin over a bunch of scaly beasts.”

Aesthra’s emerald gaze hardened. “Eres and Ethiopia are not just beasts; they’re our allies, Erasto. You should remember that.”

Sensing the once-comfortable atmosphere thickening with tension, Ruvean cleared his throat, redirecting them. "Let's save the arguing for tomorrow. We rest and plan. We can’t investigate on empty stomachs."

The fire crackled louder, and Aesthra handed over the last braid she’d worked on, satisfied with her handiwork. “Dinner will help us all think clearer. What do we have?”

“Porridge with dried meat. Not the most comforting dish, but it’ll do,” Samuel shrugged.

With a haphazard combination of grumbles and laughter, they settled into their meal, each lost in thought about the events swirling in damp air around them.

Later, as the fire dwindled into mere embers, Ruvean and Aesthra retreated to their cabin. The door creaked uneasily behind them, and Aesthra paused for a moment, staring out into the shadows.

“What do you think Ragnar will want to do when he hears about this?” Aesthra finally spoke, breaking the silence, as she sank onto the bed, sighing heavily.

“We tell the truth. Everything we found,” Ruvean replied, his tone serious, as he rowed slowly onto the edge of the bed, a solemnity weighing upon him. “Honesty is our best ally in a world of shadows.”

“That may just mean more trouble,” she whispered, laying her head against his chest, seeking comfort in their bond.

Ruvean stroked her hair softly. “But we’re ready for it, Aesthra. We have each other’s backs.”

Her heart raced within her chest, the air making promises of warmth and fear. “I wish I could push everything away, just for a moment.”

“We have to face it together,” he said, his voice steady.

Aesthra inhaled, trying to anchor herself, but just then, a terrible sound shattered the quiet—an agonizing dragon’s cry cut through the still air.

“That wasn’t Ethiopia,” she exclaimed, leaping off the bed and rushing to change back into her armour, adrenaline surging through her.

“Stay close!” Ruvean barked, strapping his own gear, determination in his eyes.

In moments they were outside, ethereal fires illuminated the dark; the scent of smoke thickened the air. Blazing tongues reached up hungrily from the treeline, evident chaos ringing in the air.

“Aesthra! Ruvean!” Cyrelle’s voice tore through the bedlam as she rushed toward them, eyes wide with horror.

“It’s the villagers!” Aesthra shouted, recognizing the distant figures scrambling through the chaos, panic etched into their faces.

Blane was at the forefront, leading the charge. “Get away from that cave!” he shouted, armed members of the village moving like shadows in the distance. “We’ll finish what that dragon started!”

Fury ignited within Aesthra as she tore away from the others, sailing into the night on Ethiopia. “No! Stop!” she cried, trying to discern danger from the villagers racing further toward the frenzy.