The Well in the Mires

The Infected Swamp Part 2

Fenna followed the witch begrudgingly. She wanted to see this illness, this curse.

She wanted to know why all this was happening.

"Grandma?" She asked, feeling weird calling out to someone other than her actual grandmother.

"Hm?" The woman asked. "What is it?" She kept walking ahead. A slight rocking had slowly worked into her walk, showing her age as they continued.

"What exactly is causing all this? Not just the swamp, everything." She asked, catching up. Her feet felt gross, weight down by a green muck.

"Mmm... that's a good question." The witch said thoughtfully. "I'm not entirely sure. There are a lot of factors." Fenna was displeased by the answer but waited for her to continue. "The dark force is not just mere magic but an ancient, almost living form of magic that has been locked away for hundreds of years. I know very little about it other than destruction, and control is what it craves most. It will twist anything in its way into something out of nightmares. One thing is certain, this darkness did not escape on its own. Whoever, or whatever is doing this is very powerful and has planned this for some time. I imagine this was orchestrated by multiple entities. The ancient dragons are no longer here to protect us. Now, we must find our own means to defend ourselves." The woman looked misty eyed for a moment, looking off with a distant, reminiscent expression. "I remember back in the day when Velefor fought so hard for us and the day when he and the other dragons locked away that darkness for good. Or so we thought."

Fenna was intrigued. "Wait. Back then? You're saying you been alive for hundreds of years?" She was having a much harder time believing her.

"Yes. A little over five hundred now, I believe. It is not uncommon for those born with natural sorcery to live for a very long time, thousands of years sometimes." She seemed unfazed. "My sister is much older than I."

Fenna was swirling with questions in her head. "And Velefor was..." She didn't finish, waiting for the witch to pick up where she left off.

"A dragon. Yes. He was magnificent. I was his imprint. He died much earlier than he should have. I was so heartbroken."

"How did he die?" She asked softly.

"He had many grave injuries that slowly killed him over the course of 200 years. He obtained them during the final battle. He would still be here today if not for those injuries. If only he would have told me, I could have done something." She was clearly upset. She was beating herself up mentally. Fenna assumed she had been since then.

"Was it," she swallowed nervously, "his blood?" She wasn't sure how to ask such an insensitive question.

She sighed. "Yes. Udich was saved with Velefor's blood. That blood has become Udich's and has most likely changed him."

"His eyes glow." She confirmed. "When he becomes angry, the fire around him grows."

She nodded in thought. "That's good. We may have a chance with him. He has hidden potential."

"What about the other dragons?" She furrowed her brows.

She sighed. "Most suffered the same fate. The rest just timed out. Most of the dragons we have today are not true dragons, but creatures mimicking the real things." She fell silent. She seemed disturbed by the thought.

"You said most." Fenna said, eyeing her discreetly.

Pursing her lips, she reluctantly responded. "I did. There are some descendants of the ancients. There are very few. But they lack much of what their ancestors possessed."

Fenna huffed in disbelief. "Just because they aren't the same doesn't mean they are completely hopeless. If Udich could be key, then so could these other dragons. This is their world, too." She couldn't believe how dismissive this woman was being and felt offended for these young dragons. "Don't you think they might at least want to protect themselves? Did anyone even try to ask them?" She had a sinking feeling that there may still be an ancient or two flying around somewhere but decided to keep that thought to herself.

The woman was quiet for a bit, leaving only the awkward squish, squish, squash of their treads. She sighed eventually and nodded.

"You may be right. Though I can't be certain of where to find them, I have an idea of where at least one may be. Ordax, a very large and powerful dragon, sired a son before departing from this world. He is most likely not hostile. But he may be cautious if not reluctant."

"It's something." Fenna was short. She felt triumphant but didn't think it wise to show it. "If he is at least willing to share information that could help us, then it would be well worth it."

A hard, unreadable expression molded itself onto the witch's face. "Indeed. Well, either way, we can't do anything about it now. We have to solve the problem at hand first."

They stopped at a strange clearing that seemed to have thick purple water oozing out of a smoking, grotesque looking growth. There were smaller ones forming nearby. The trees surrounding them were dying and withered. A pungent green goop oozed from their bark, causing Fenna to cough up bile.

"What is that?" She asked, pressing her hand to her face.

"I'm not entirely sure." The witch admitted. "This is only the half of it."

"Is this the dark force?"

"Not quite. This is something all it's own. But I'm sure the true source is using it to their advantage, influencing this illness." As Fenna took a step toward the dark pool, the witch cautioned her. "Be careful what you touch. Anything could happen."

She looked at her worriedly and looked around. Tiny blue swirls danced around from small cracks in the ground. She reached down to touch some of them, but before she could touch them, they seemed to cower away as if sensing her. She looked up at the old woman in surprise.

Impressed, the woman leaned on her staff. "Well, it would seem there is more to you than meets the eye."