Treasured - Chapter Three (Patron Reward)

[This is a patron reward for Mr. Nobody! Thank you so much for your support~]

The terrain’s gentle slopes turned jagged and hard. Rocky hills met together into a tall, sharp peak that overlooked the greens of the earth. A few pines circled around the high cliff, veiling a crack that existed between them. A pit, deep and dark, dug into the ground. The trees shivered and rocked as the giant Yvedawn hovered over them, her flight from Mattervon almost complete. No later could she have arrived, for her petite wings were losing strength rapidly. She descended into the hole, bringing with her the four adventurers she had obtained.

Only the daylight, dwindling as it was, brought light into the cavern from the hole Yvedawn entered. The space opened into a wide chamber, its edges concealed in darkness while just the center was illuminated. Cool air remained mostly stagnant until Yvedawn had appeared, creating billowing winds that threw about dust from the corners. She landed with a great sigh of relief, and immediately her wings fell to either side of her, limp as sheets.

Through her panting, Yvedawn addressed her captives, “Welcome to… your new home…! Oh, oh what a horrible distance it was...” A smile stretched across her lips, raising up the prizes she held. Grayson and Trea were decent additions, but Daemon was the prize she had set out to steal. She admired him, at least, as best she could; in the same hand that held Daemon was also Trea, pressed against him and getting in the way.

Without comment, Yvedawn discarded Trea and Grayson onto the ground without much concern. Both were dropped and fell harshly to the cave floor, but Daemon remained in her possession. Two claws cuddled him on all sides, a rather comfortable hold despite his shaking and squirming.

“You appear so frightened, Daemon,” Yvedawn teased, poking Daemon’s stomach with a nail. She giggled at the way he was tickled, but she was clearly out of breath. “Back where you belong… Fufu, did you truly believe you could get away? Foolish, foolish…”

Daemon shielded himself from that heavy gaze on top of him, turning in Yvedawn’s palms so he could inspect the others. Trea was back onto her feet, but Grayson was slower under all of his armor. Despite his concern, Daemon also feared their judgement — between the guild leaders and the dragon, he could only sweat profusely.

Grayson grunted, finally standing and already with his hand on his blade. He shot a look to Trea, ensuring she was stable as well, then looked to where she stared. Trea pointed to under Yvedawn, “Thrakk!” The brute was there, her arms clamped tight around the dragon’s tail as it idly shifted. A groan escaped her as she undid her grip and fell to the floor. It wasn’t the best landing, but nothing compared to the numbness in her arms.

Thrakk rose to her feet without complaint. Instead, there was a chuckle, a very tired chuckle, “I… I flew… I flew! On a dragon!” She hunched forward with laughter, her arms just noodles at either side of her. “I could have died! Hah! Trea, Grayson, looks like you two held up--”

Boom. Thrakk was gone, disappeared under Yvedawn as she fell into a seat there on the floor. Without the stamina to reflexively dodge, Thrakk was simply sat on, without even a chance to squeak out to her companions. Trea gasped and Grayson drew his sword, but Yvedawn merely sighed, reclining backwards while her wings recovered.

“I am most exhausted!” Yvedawn whined, rolling her head back while a trail of pink hair followed like a banner. “But… we are here! All together!” She looked to Daemon, lifting him over her face. Although he was definitely secure within the hand, he still hugged a pair of fingers as tightly as he could. Yvedawn snickered, “No thoughts of escape this time, Daemon? I see you have no want to let go of me now, fufu~”

“N-No, none at all, no thoughts of escape,” Daemon nervously replied. It wasn’t quite a lie, as he thought that if there was a way to escape, he couldn’t think of it himself. Yvedawn was a giant dragon, bumbling as she may be, and he and the Tides of Blakewood were prisoners in her lair -- an escape did not spell itself out . He had managed to leave her cave once, of course, but this was not the same chamber. There were no piles of gold in this wider space, only aged columns where the darkness began. He assumed this was likely a deeper part of her cavern, which meant that getting out would be that much more troublesome.

A metallic stomp pulled Yvedawn’s focus from Daemon and down to her other captives. Grayson had marched forward, his blade steady in both hands as it erected towards the dragon. “Up!” he demanded of her, a flick of his head to signal his command. “Rise now, beast! For The Goddess Weeps, you’re sitting on my strongest warrior like a pillow!”

Yvedawn raised a brow, crossing her legs into an x-shape as if to wall off Grayson’s approach. She had forgotten all about Thrakk until she was mentioned, at which point, Yvedawn still did not budge. “A warrior so strong, they can be defeated by being sat upon?” she giggled, her free hand vaguely trying to hide her smile. Her head rose arrogantly, “I did not invite this guest, so this trouble is of their own~ If they so wish to be let free from under me, then-- Yeeyyhohh!!”

Suddenly, the dragon was up in the air, her burst of motion rocking dust and gravel within the cave. She had hopped into a standing position, craned over as she massaged her rear. There was a tear in her eye from the sharp pain she had just endured, whatever may have  caused it. Where her seat had once been, Thrakk laid flat-out on her back, wiping her mouth as she toiled to sit up.

“Not the worst ass I’ve eaten,” Thrakk coughed. She stuttered into some laughs, “Grayson! Remember that time with the dire boar? That was the worst ass I’ve--”

“You bit me?!” Yvedawn gasped, whipping around with her mouth agape and her cheeks flushed. She winced, feeling the stinging pain on her left cheek. “That was… That hurt!”

Thrakk spat while in a crawl up to her feet. “Should’ve grown scales there, then.”

Yvedawn groaned while situating herself, using a broken column to support herself. She looked to Daemon in the hand propped against the column, noticing his distress from all the jumping. Before she could say something -- swish -- an arrow flew just past her face. She leaned away from where the projectile had missed her, then shot a glare at her attacker. Trea had her bow aimed and another arrow in her finger to be notched.

“Release him, Yvedawn,” Trea warned. The use of the dragon’s name, she hoped, could reason with the monster slightly better. The string of her bow whined as it was stretched back, “We wish to leave peacefully. I warn you to not corner us to use violence.”

Yvedawn scoffed. “Daemon arrived here of his own volition. I reclaimed him when he went missing. You cannot demand that I forfeit my property!” Daemon complained, but no one heard him.

Grayson growled, his patience surpassed. He charged ahead in a sprint, his sword swayed to the side for a hard horizontal cut. Yvedawn raised one foot to avoid the strike, but it was a feint -- Grayson’s blade glided into the other foot, chopping into the scaled skin as if shattering into armor.

“Graahhhaaa!!” Yvedown howled, nearly tripping backwards as her heel had been sliced into, partially. Grayson undug his blade from the beast, but was then immediately kicked into. He was stomped on by the very foot he attacked, knocked onto his back and fitted perfectly underfoot. Fortunately, his refined armor protected him from the blunt force, but that still left him in a harsh position. “H-How unruly! This is my home you attack me in!”

Grayson was not alone on this offensive. Just after him was Thrakk, running with as much speed and with her hammer swung overhead. A leap forward, and the head of her weapon came whistling down with Thrakk’s weight behind it. The floor shook as it struck hard into one of Yvedawn’s claws.

“Oooaarr!!” Another strange noise erupted from Yvedawn. She hobbled backwards, attempting the same evasive maneuver as before, but with even worse balance. Her heel sliced and a claw flattened, two steps backwards was all it took to have the dragon stumbling into a fall. Yvedawn crashed onto her rear, her head slamming against the jagged rocks of the cave wall.

During the commotion, Daemon was fumbled from Yvedawn’s clutches. He was released as she tripped onto her ass, which was far from the escape he desired. Rather than fall hard to the floor, he managed to grapple some of Yvedawn’s pink hair like rope, and used as much to swing onto her body. When she clashed into the wall, the shake threw off his grip, and he rolled down the long torso. His fingers clenched at bare skin in order to halt himself, which he did so just at her waist. Situated awkwardly on her lap, Daemon was too dazed to move himself further from that position, just as Yvedawn had been firmly seated when she landed.

Grayson, having been relieved of Yvedawn’s stomp, had swiftly stabilized himself, back on his feet and ready for another round. His eyes did not leave Yvedawn as he barked at Thrakk, “Ljós? You brought her?”

“Almost forgot about her, heh,” Thrakk chuckled, reeling her hammer to be over her shoulder. She stared back at her shadow, nodding her head at it. “Come on! You’re missing all the fun!”

A furious growl forewarned an attack on Thrakk and Grayson. Yvedawn’s anger was overflowing as she picked up a crumbled chunk of a column beside her and threw it at her foes. The boulder flew through the air with its impressive weight, but both warriors dashed away. Crash, an explosion of rubble and dust scattered from where the stone slammed into the floor. Yvedawn cursed her accuracy and reached for another projectile, still sat into the corner she had fallen in.

“Who do you think you are?! I-I’ll crush you all…!” the dragon threatened, but the shiver in her tone hinted at her insecurity. Another piece of a column was located, but before it could be tossed at the guild, Yvedawn took notice of smoke that had appeared. There was no scent to this inky blackness, and it did not fill the room like a normal gas. It swirled slowly and only around Yvedawn’s head, persisting there even when she blew a breath at it and swatted it with her hand. “Is this a trick?” she wondered aloud. She sniffed and detected not an odor, but the presence of magic.

The smoke gathered then into one contained shape hovering in the air. It condensed and took form like malleable clay, eventually creating the silhouette of a body. Once all of the smoke had been collected, a person was fully there, a woman garbed in a robe as flowing and dark as the fog she controlled. A wildly tall hat was worn and silver hair fell from out of it, both functioning to hide her face. All but the golden spark of her eyes could be seen from this shadowy figure, and her sights were upon the astonished Yvedawn. From Thrakk’s shadow had Ljós been conjured into the battle.

Ljós aimed an arm forward, effortlessly channeling magic to her palm. Yvedawn scoffed at her, “Another human? Just what could one more of you do…?” Under her black veil, Ljós’s confidence was unwavering. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash centered from her palm, and a magical blast rippled through the chamber. A negative energy struck Yvedawn and drained her of her energy, allowing only enough strength to gasp and push back into the cavern’s corner.

“You were mistaken,” Ljós lectured, unphased by neither the light nor the dark. She watched Yvedawn dizzily blink and lose balance, confirming that the spell had succeeded. As she hovered gently to the ground, Ljós remained poise and elegant. “I am no human, but an elf.”

“A-An… elf…?” Yvedawn winced, still struggling with the bizarre onset of sleep. Her head bobbed to one side, and that half of her wished to fall that way altogether. She whined, “But h-how…? How could… an elf be h-here…?”

It was an unwinnable battle against the magical fatigue that plagued her. Heavier and heavier did Yvedawn feel, especially in her eyes, and before long, her sway to the left lead her to falling over completely. It was an ungraceful way to land, a hard hit into the ground, but Yvedawn was so huge and so tired that she merely passed out without a care. There was a mutter, perhaps one last complaint she had reserved, but it left her as a snore.

Ljós studied the beast, primarily the closed eyes and breathing. “A curious specimen,” she acknowledged mostly to herself, but Grayson was then behind her, patting her pauldron encouragingly as he passed. “Beware,” she warned him, “for her slumber will cease shortly. Her mass dilutes the effects, but furthermore, her blood--”

“She is a dragon,” Grayson interrupted. He took her warning to heart, however, and readied his hand on his blade. “At least she claims to be one. Dragons were immune to many magics, were they not?”

“... So history has suggested,” Ljós replied, her skepticism not so hidden. “But no record or myth has suggested a dragon of this shape or design. No image that I have personally referenced bears any resemblance to this… girl.”

“Monsters are monsters,” Thrakk rambled into the conversation. “What’s important is we can all leave, am I right? Just another evening with the Tides, hah!”

A flame brought light past where it poured in from the entrance above. “Well, we cannot leave without everyone,” Trea said, approaching the others with a makeshift torch in hand.

Thrakk raised a brow, “Everyone is here, Trea! It was just the four of us.”

“The boy?” Trea pointed with the torch to a part of Yvedawn’s collapsed body. Thrakk was directed to her legs, and her thighs in particular -- there was a rumble of movement between them, and then the flapping of a desperate hand. In all the commotion, Daemon had little sway over his predicament, and thus he had been trapped between Yvedawn’s thighs when she had tumbled over into sleep. Try as he might to escape, the weight was too strong, and only his hand could signal for help. Thrakk laughed hardily, but Trea elbowed her in the ribs. “He could very well suffocate.”

“That’s the funniest part,” Thrakk sighed, on her way to assist Daemon. She grabbed the hand without warning and pulled, stopping short of making much progress. “Woo, he’s wedged deep in there.” A second attempt with both hands proved more successful, and after a long pull, Daemon’s head was released, flushed red from a lack of oxygen. In his gasps for air, he had Thrakk giggling over him, “Good! You’re coming out! I thought I’d sooner end up snapping your arm off!”

“You… almost… did…!” Daemon griped, still squirming in his efforts to be freed. He groaned, “You oaf… Is there not a better way…?”

“Nope. Just this.” Thrakk returned to her efforts dutifully, grabbing the newly exposed parts of Daemon with graceless form. Into her bosom went his head while her arms dug under his armpits, and with both legs kicked into the wall-like thighs did she make her best attempt yet. It was slow, embarrassing, and painful, but Thrakk’s process was gradually working.

Yvedawn’s eyes showed the first signs of activity. Immediately, the gleam of steel flashed in front of her, and she felt the cold tip at her throat. Still weary from the spell, Yvedawn only loosely comprehended that Grayson had taken a stand on her neck, his blade cast down at her with both hands gripping it. She blinked -- not only him, but the witch was there as well. She stood in front of her fallen face, admiring any information she could obtain, and certainly ready to whip a spell if need be.

Grayson held his balance while Yvedawn stirred awake. “Yield, beast, yield!” he commanded, emphasizing his point by urging the blade deeper into her neck’s skin. Properly intimidated, Yvedawn stopped her groggy movements. “In more ways than one could we claim your life, and we have just as many reasons to! How do you atone for the kidnapping of myself and my guild? How do you atone for the destruction caused at Mattervon?”

Yvedawn grimaced under her situation, most insulted by how Grayson’s boot was planted into her neck. She snarled, “Atonement is a human concept! I am beyond such things. I am a dragon! A-And you are in my lair!”

“And here in your lair is where you will be slain,” Grayson threatened. “You are a danger to these lands, that much has been proven. Your recklessness nearly brought tragedy upon an innocent village. Why should we not behead such a menace?”

“It was Daemon who--!” Yvedawn raised her voice, but her volume was halved when she felt the point of Grayson’s sword push deeper. She swallowed and continued, “Daemon stole from me…! I was claiming my treasure back!”

“Hah! Does Daemon shimmer like gold as well? He was no treasure from your horde and yet you rampaged to steal him away. Dare I mention that your stolen treasures are not here, but left behind at the tavern? Do not lie to me about what drove you to this.”

Yvedawn winced, stabbed by the truth. She hadn’t even realized it herself that, for all this trouble over some treasure, she never thought much about the goods themselves. From the beginning, it had been about Daemon and keeping him prisoner. It had seemed like an acceptable idea, for a dragon at least, but with Grayson’s boots pressed into her, stumbled over and humiliated, she wondered why it had mattered so much to her to begin with.

“I… did not w-wish to be alone anymore…” Yvedawn sniffled. “Daemon was… the first… to venture into my lair…”

Grayson huffed, “A poor excuse. The minds of monsters simply cannot be understood.” He raised his blade and picked a mark to strike. “Too great a threat is posed to innocent people with your being here. Farewell, dragon--”

“Grayson! Please!” Trea halted Grayson with her voice, quickly approaching Yvedawn’s face. “Please reconsider, Grayson. Do look at her and the emotion in her eyes, and then ask if she deserves death.” The light shined on Yvedawn, her emerald eyes wavering on the edge of tears. Though she closed her eyes, her whines were still audible and her body shivered with anxiety. Trea watched her with a stern look, but it was genuine that her heart was breaking. What she saw wasn’t a fantastical creature bent on violence, but a woman that was wronged and faces death for it.

“Trea, she’s…” Grayson began, the fury in his voice shaking back. Trea’s glare focused on him, and he glared back. His brow quivered and his shoulders slumped -- “Bah… Well…” he grumbled, staring down the length of his sword. With a loud sigh for his fiance to hear, Grayson set the weapon back into its sheath. “I suppose she was little trouble for Mattervon before, so she will be even less trouble for them now…”

Before Grayson could hop down, he was swept up in Yvedawn’s rise. She rushed to sit up, no longer afflicted with sleepiness and disregarding how Grayson tumbled to the cave floor. Sobs bubbled from her as she changed position, her relief to have been given mercy undervalued to what she feared she would lose.

“D-D-Daemon…!” she whined, searching for where he had gone. Thrakk had only just released Daemon from the clap of Yvedawn’s thighs, and the two were spread out on the ground, tumbled over from their success. Faster than either could react, Yvedawn’s reptilian hand swooped down and captured Daemon before he could even get to his feet. “Daemon…!” In her clutches, Daemon was squeezed in her hands and then strangled in her huge embrace. The air was forced out of him as he was hugged with bone-breaking power, all while Yvedawn’s crying grew into an uproar right above him.

Trea aided Grayson to his knees, but both had to cover their ears under the piercing sounds of Yvedawn’s wailing. “Is this an attack?!” Trea asked, but her yell was overpowered by an especially striking sob. The scene for all was painful to watch, especially as thick tears fell from her cheeks. Inbetween her cries, Daemon’s muffled pleas could occasionally be heard.

“I-I don’t…! I don’t want to be alone again…!” Yvedawn sniffled, her volume shaking to less intensity. “You humans… Always traveling from place to place, a-and meeting new people, living such simple, normal lives…” Another sniffle paused her as she rubbed her cheek into a shoulder. “Company was all I wished for…”

“I… I’ll visit…!” Almost going unheard, Daemon’s hoarse voice chipped in with what little breath he had. Yvedawn loosened her hug on him, allowing him a deep inhale and another chance to speak, “I will visit you…! I… I promise.”

“D-Daemon?” Yvedawn frowned, staring down at her chest where Daemon was pressed. “What do you mean…?”

“Indeed,” Grayson wondered as well. “You will visit this dragon?”

Daemon swallowed. “Well, it is not as though it is… very far from home,” he admitted. “Whatever the effort, I-I believe it would be worthwhile… If it is true that you have been alone in this cave, then I… at least sympathize, with wanting to see the world.” He coughed, “Though, kidnapping people is going too far…”

“This must be a cruel joke,” Yvedawn feared. She glared, “This is a trick… You will leave and never return…”

Daemon scratched at his hair -- for once, he had no intention of fast-talking to get what he wanted, and now he had to prove it. Unfortunately, there was no real guarantee he could give Yvedawn. He rambled for a compromise, “P-Perhaps if I spent this night with you, you would believe me? Erk…”

Thrakk interrupted with a boisterous laugh, “What is this! Men sleeping next to dragons -- what a wild world!”

“We will all stay for the night,” Grayson announced. His fellow guildmates immediately turned to him, startled by this decision. “Will that convince you? Will you let us all leave peacefully?”

Yvedawn was befuddled by the deal being offered. Sniffling once more, she settled her gaze on Daemon, determining his loyalty. “... Only one night…?” she weakly asked.

“One,” Grayson specified, to the relief of the others. “We have lost enough time on our return trip to the guild headquarters. Early in the morning is the latest we can stay.”

“... Fair,” Yvedawn tersely replied. Though she showed little emotion to the guild, she sneaked a smile down at Daemon. A remaining tear was wiped away, “One night spared of loneliness will be more of a blessing than you know.”

Daemon’s tension melted from his shoulders as he remembered to breathe. His proposal had been accepted, and not just by Yvedawn, but the Tides of Blakewood -- most of them, at least. Thrakk kicked at cobbled stone, “Hah, what a wild world…”

The rays of light above had faded as night took its turn, but the cave was illuminated more than ever. A campfire in the center brought warmth to the dank chamber and torches set into the columns lit the further corners. More than just to brighten their surroundings, the campfire was also used to roast two large wild hogs, taken from Yvedawn’s stash. Trea boasted her skills as an adventuring cook, gathering what little rations the guild had been swiped up with in order to add flavor and variety to the meal. She dragged Daemon into helping her, pleasantly surprised to discover that, aside from being nervous, he was far from inept at cooking. Grayson and Thrakk were as lively as they were in combat, sharing stories of their adventures with increasing bravado. They had a captivated audience, as both Daemon and Yvedawn were keen on hearing of these amazing exploits, these windows into far parts of the land.

She was distant from the activity, as though pushed away like the shadows. Ljós observed, as she was known to do, but more so than usual; all while the dinner was underway, her gold eyes rarely looked anywhere other than Yvedawn. She watched her participate with the others, how she asked Grayson and the others questions of their travels, how she devoured her portion of hog in just a swallow, and how she laughed at Thrakk and Grayson’s disagreement over a story. Going into the night, Yvedawn felt Ljós’s stare creep along her winged back.

So Yvedawn stared back, disconnecting from the others like Ljós had been. Her stare was especially heavy, hanging over the mage that stood just within her arm’s reach, but Ljós was unintimidated. Rather coyly, Ljós kept silent so that Yvedawn would be the first to speak, and with so many questions on her mind, it was only a matter of time. “A-Are you going to cast another spell…?”

“Ah. So you were afraid of that,” Ljós replied on beat. “Perhaps I will, if the occasion were to arise.”

Yvedawn cringed, “Th-That will not be necessary then…”

Ljós giggled, a chime that wasn’t as chilling as her analytical tone. “I would enjoy that, if so. Violence would tarnish the festivities, and I would prefer to expend magic on endeavors of knowledge rather than combat.” She bowed, “I apologize if I offended you with my looking. I do not require sleep for functionality, so my duty will be to guard the guild overnight.”

“Ah, I s-suppose that is understandable.” Yvedawn fidgetted, thinking once to rejoin the others, but her curiosity was too strong; Ljós silently sympathized. Yvedawn asked, “Then, if you do not sleep, you truly are an elf?”

“Rare as we might be in Midrealm now, I am indeed a dark elf. The grander mystery is understanding what creature you are.”

Yvedawn blinked. “Me? Ah, cl-clearly I am a dragon,” she grumbled, insulted. Her claws flexed, bringing attention to their purple scales. “I could not be something else if I attempted to be.”

Ljós’s fingers crossed into each other at her chest, her habitual pose of intense thinking. “Of my three-thousand years and excess of gathering information, no records have once drawn comparison to the distinct traits you exhibit. Features related to draconic kin are present but unlike that of which I have ever studied… or seen.” Ljós leaned in, and Yvedawn instinctively did the same. “... I have seen dragons, Yvedawn. Humans have forgotten, but this is a childhood memory. The resemblance is lacking.”

Yvedawn glared, a smug smile struggling to stick. “I am short for my kind, I will admit, but my heritage is not to be underestimated…”

“Could you possibly be mistaken regarding your heritage? You could be a different creature entirely. Have you seen a true dragon with your own eyes?”

“Of course I have. My mother was a true dragon-- truest of them all!” Her pride was at stake, Yvedawn decided, and her volume raised with it. “She was quite popular. The humans had foolishly given her a name, which was… Mm…” She recollected, drawing from memories so long ago. “... The Scarlet Terror, I believe? It was a silly title of that sort, but that was my mother, and as her daughter I must be a dragon.”

The campfire crackled in an atmosphere that had fallen quiet. The attention was squarely on Yvedawn, who spoke only to the astonished Ljós. The mage wrestled with dozens of questions, yet could only repeat what was said, “The Scarlet Terror? The dragon most feared in all of Midrealm?”

Yvedawn’s arrogance swelled, and she nodded proudly with her arms crossed. “Most feared, yes! The treasures I have here are just a fraction of the wealth she collected in her prime. That should settle any doubts of what I am, hoho~”

Her audience’s astonishment finally alerted Yvedawn of what she was revealing. She glanced across the expressions, her confidence simmering. Her mother’s name was more impressive than she had assumed, but it was the implications that left them so awestruck. She had wanted to feel proud, but it was Daemon’s expression of worry and horror that had her sink in shame. Rather than lift her head high, she shuddered her knees to her chest and wrapped her tail around herself.

Thrakk chuckled, the first to shake off her surprise. “You said your mother is a dragon, but then what of your father? Was he not a dragon? A human?” she asked.

Yvedawn’s glare pierced through Thrakk. She growled, “Are you mocking my father?”

Thrakk stuttered uncharacteristically. “I-I just thought-- Y’know, everyone must have been wonderin’, r-right?”

“Excuses must be made for Thrakk,” Ljós interjected, “the manners of her people are not like our own. Her and our speculations are unnecessary. But, for the information you have provided, I am most appreciative.” Ljós’s tone was brighter than when it began, the gloom of her appearance not matching how satisfied she truly was for having learned something so extraordinary. Before the fire was fizzled out, Ljós quietly approached Grayson and Trea to make a note of urgency. Reporting to the capital was now their new priority.

The day had been exhausting for the adventurers and a long march awaited them. The Tides of Blakewood that could were fast to fall asleep, reassured by Ljós’s watch. Daemon, however, could not sleep as soundly as these veteran warriors did. As weary as being kidnapped had made him, the thought keeping him alert was that a giant dragon slept in that very chamber. Yvedawn lay sprawled across the cave floor, tucked against one of the walls. He watched her for a time, slumbering away with long snores that were not so subtle at her size. The Scarlet Terror, he remembered, a scourge to humanity. This was her daughter, a being so big and with such latent power that Mattervon suffered when she spontaneously gave chase after him. Enough treasure to join a guild was all I desired, he thought, but of all the dragon rumors to be true, of course, that dragon would be the daughter of the Scarlet Terror. Of course, of course…

Daemon shivered, the cold gnawing at him. His eyes closed, bitterly accepting sleep, but his aches were eased as a warmth enveloped over him. Shielded from the night air, Daemon’s shaking ceased, and he slipped into slumber before he could mutter his thanks.

The shuffling of equipment alerted Daemon. Footsteps avoided him where he lay, the boots recognized as Trea’s. She noticed him stir and smiled at him. “It is time,” she whispered to him. “Before she awakens. Let us go.”

Daemon groaned, trying to get up but unable to. He heard Trea giggle. Turning around, he realized weighing him down was a reptilian claw. Yvedawn had reached out and held him through the night, but she was still deep asleep, unaware that her visitors were leaving. As Daemon gently unfixed himself from Yvedawn’s grasp, he thought back on this creature he had unearthed. She was a story, a stranger situation than he had ever anticipated. A dragon that he tricked, was kidnapped by, and then befriend. He paused as that thought crossed him -- could he consider Yvedawn a friend? What did she think of him and the Tides after everything that occured?

“Will she not be enraged?” Daemon asked Trea, gently putting aside one last finger that was on him.

“It was as we promised, that we would leave early in the morning,” Trea answered, seemingly not content with that answer. “That aside, it would be better to leave quietly, lest we risk a change of her heart.”

Though he understood why, Daemon still felt a pain in his heart for slipping away stealthily. He would definitely return here, if not because of his promise to, then simply to relive this memory and confirm the reality of it. The dragon’s den was a miraculous place that would have to remain shrouded in mystery; the Tides and Daemon all agreed that what they would not remark on what they found. Not a coin was to be touched from the gallant chamber of treasure, as tempting as it was. The risk of wronging the Scarlet Terror was dangerously real, and Mattervon had just a glimpse of a dragon’s rage unleashed.

The morning sun leaked over the horizon one ray at a time. Trea and Grayson lead the trip back to Mattervon while Ljós traveled in Thrakk’s shadow. Daemon lagged behind, distant from the idle chats the others were having. He glanced back up the mountains just as they reached the base. He felt a gaze tracing him, as though he was watched from far away. He offered a silent wave hidden from the guild, and Yvedawn, seated outside her den, waved back.

Repairs were already underway when they arrived at Mattervon. The structures Yvedawn had trampled over were in the early stages of being fixed, proving the village’s ability to endure and recover. Daemon expected as much having lived his life here, a fact he dwelled on as he separated from the guild and turned to his home. After such an adventure, or whatever that was, the plain door into his humble cottage was like a portal into the mundane.

His mother immediately greeted him, rushing into him with a hug and kiss. She had been sick with worry when the dragon arrived and Daemon never returned, and nothing he had to say could lessen her concern. He removed his armor and slumped into a chair, burdened with what he had to report. “I will not be joining the guild,” he sighed, “not after that event.”

“Oh, Daemon dear,” his mother cooed. She bit her lip while gripping his shoulders from behind, massaging his neck like she always did when she wanted him near. “It hurts to hear that… but this is likely for the best. The fate of adventurers is deathly uncertain. I can sleep much easier knowing my son is not being eaten by something, goodness.”

She could tell, however, that this did little to alleviate his disappointment. Daemon’s gaze dropped to where his armor was removed, thinking of how his father once fit into it long ago. His father traveled long and far, returning home with tales of his conquests which Daemon would then take to the village. Telling stories and imagining the grandness of the world, however, was not enough for him, not after his father never returned to Mattervon. He wanted to find his own stories, see the world for himself.

There was a knock at the door. His mother tended to it, but was speechless when she saw who greeted her. “Pardon the intrusion, but is Daemon here?” Grayson’s sturdy voice was unmistakable, rattling the wood of the home with his unwavering tone. Over the mother’s head, he saw Daemon, at the table half-turned towards the door. “Aye, there you are. Have you gathered everything yet? I advise you learn now that I dislike delays, so if you have nothing left to do, come!”

“... Come? Uh, uh,” Daemon stammered, looking around the house for context. His mother was equally confused. “Grayson, sir, I-I do not understand what you mean. After everything that happened, I assumed--”

“That we denied you? Pah,” Grayson shook his head, “why would you assume that? You obtained more than enough to pay your dues, and you showed bravery and wit in dire situations. The Tides have accepted worse and weirder -- gear up and stop making me wait, Daemon.”

Daemon hesitated, but when he understood that this was no dream, he jumped to his feet. Dashing from room to room, he collected all that he would need to begin his life as a member of the Tides of Blakewood. In short work did he have a backpack messily stuffed with just about all of his belongings, with even more luggage tied to the outside. It broiled his mother to see him so eager to leave, but the spark in his eyes and the energy in his movements brought light to the passion he had for adventuring. Rather than anchor him to Mattervon, she wished her son to have an adventure he would have to return home alive to tell.

But one matter went unaddressed, not until Daemon mentioned it while headed to the tavern with Grayson. He glanced at the north mountain and asked, “What of Yvedawn? I cannot very well visit her if I travel with you, and that was a promise…”

“Oh, hoho,” Grayson chortled, amused that Daemon had not thought more of it. “You will not miss her for long. I am afraid this is just the beginning of her story, the daughter of the Scarlet Terror.”