The Anvil of Dawn

by Starlix

Trees So Tall

The First Week

The sun was hidden, obscured behind a nest of clouds so thick that even the most powerful beams from that nuclear furnace could not penetrate through the barriers. Below the blanket of gray and black came a shower of a different sort. Falling, being whipped up by the fierce winds and then depositing in thick clumps among the earth, the snowfall was heavy, filtering around in such a manner that most vision was completely blocked, forced out by the icy shower. Each second was accented by the almost mind-numbing sound of wind and fury, sound all but distorted into a tunnel of white noise and unearthly turmoil.

Cold and dry, the air was more than a little obscured, forced out by the outlandishly powerful snowstorm as it encompassed all vision, narrowing the creatures of the earth to a field of view measuring only a foot or two. Contrasting the bleak sheet of white was an unholy darkness that lingered upon the edge of sight, nightfall all but upon them.

Hidden inside the storm were the figures of two beings, trudging along slowly through the massive wall of sound and snow. Having retreated far into their minds, they pushed on through the fall, ignoring the turmoil the best they possibly could. However, mother nature would not be placated or shut out.

Gilda, for all her keen eyesight and knowledge of the terrain was completely blind, her eyes nearly closed against the monstrous gales and pounding snowfall. Her own thoughts were all but erased by the crushing wall of sound, restricting her sense to that of touch, for her sense of smell was completely gone. Any scent that may have existed was miles gone, being pushed and pulled in the mighty forces of the gust.

All she could feel was cold. A haze of freezing temperatures that refused to go, instead chilling her down to the very core of her being, numbing her bones. The griffin’s breath came in shallow gulps, the gale preventing her from getting a full breath and her lungs spasming in the frigid air. Among the wall of noise that was the storm, occasionally in the distance a very different sound would linger, just on the edge of hearing.

A deep, resonating song of melancholy. A lonesome whale, singing to the world, it’s call unearthly and otherworldly. It. Never. Left.

Gilda grit her teeth, hobbling as she forced the song from her hearing, though it refused to vanish completely. Peering back over her shoulder weakly, the griffin could just barely make out the form of black that was her companion, the onyx dragoness struggling to keep up in the weather. Gasping in panic, Gilda noticed that she wasn’t moving.

Grunting in discomfort, Gilda moved her limbs fast, the biting cold sticking to her muscles like glue, slowing her considerably. Moaning lightly as her bones cracked and her muscles pulled further upon ligaments and sinew, the griffin sludged backwards in the deep snow.

Cynder was down, breathing heavily, her form being more and more obscured by the dense blizzard, snow covering her from horn to tail. Her eyes were closed, the dragoness’s body going slack as her temperature dropped into critically low levels.

As her lights winked out into near unconsciousness, Gilda lifted her from the brush, covering her with a frigid wing. No words were spoken, for they would be swept away by the howling blast. Instead, the griffin pulled her semiconscious companion along with her.

Panicked and in dire need of warmth herself, the griffin spun rapidly, looking for a shelter from the mess. Her keen vision was completely useless in the combination of no sunlight and sweltering downpour of white.

Out of options, the hen moved in a random direction, the dragon under her wing, more pushing her legs on instinct rather than thought. Gilda’s muscles burned with effort, the contrasting cold making the sinew feel as though it were on fire.

In the next minutes, the storm above intensified, lightning cutting through the clouds and lighting the night briefly in waves of heavenly light. Using the newfound edge as well as she could, Gilda moved forward, the lightning guiding her path.

The wind whipped against her face, forcing the Griffin to close her eyes and shield her face with her other wing, which was so numb by this point she more noticed the snow was no longer smacking her face than the fact that she had moved the appendage.

Gasping in pain as she stumbled against a burrow of stones, Gilda barely avoided tumbling into the wave of snow, catching her balance just before the likely deadly plunge.

Each thunderous crack of lightning gave a a hellish rumble in the dark canvas of winter, making her teeth shake within her skull. The bursts of light were both holy and terrifying.

She did her best to weave between the trees, narrowly avoiding them by several centimeters.

A monstrous crack cut the sky, and in the ensuing burst of light the hen could make out a hollow in the hills. There!

With newfound life in her veins Gilda rushed forward, dragging the nearly fainted dragoness along her wing. The hen could hear her dragoness breathing heavily. She needed to act quickly.

It took a brief struggle, but the hen grappled the larger dragon, forcing Cynder onto her back. The weight of the dragoness was strenuous, the dead weight of the now out cold female was nearly too much to bear, but panic and adrenaline gave the griffin strength she didn’t know she possessed.

Hauling the dragoness with a loud groan, Gilda sprinted for the cave entrance with all she was worth, pushing her limbs to their snapping point. Closer and closer, weaker and weaker.

As the howl of the wind intensified and drowned her thoughts in a layer of icy cold water, she broke through the haze and collapsed inside the cave. The sudden fall threw the dragoness from her back, the black-scaled female skidding along the rocky floor roughly.

Gilda shivered uncontrollably, yet she did not rest. Racing over to Cynder, heart beating tremendously, she pulled the dragon to the back of the shallow cave, doing her best to shield her. Her cold blooded companion shook in her sleep, body shutting down in the frigid temperatures.

The hen was at the cusp of her limits herself, yet she knew she needed to stay awake, for both of their sakes. Hugging the dragon close to her, Gilda brought her back to the exit of the cave. The burrow was cold, very cold, but it was still a far cry to the blizzard that awaited her outside.

Quaking in hyperthermic discomfort, Gilda meandered the two of them around a shallow bend in the cave, shielding them from the worst of the billowing, icy winds. Her bones were sore from the onslaught; however, she tried her very best to ignore it and focus on keeping her companion from dying to the freezing cold that was shutting her body down by the second.

Gilda huddled closer, what little warmth remained in the hen’s body just barely keeping the dragon from falling completely over the edge.

She knew they wouldn't last like this. Casting one last look at the dragoness, Gilda huddled her as close to the wall as possible before moving away, quickly rushing back into the howling darkness.

Making a positive mental note of her location, the hen rushed around the closest proximity, gathering up twigs, branches, and whatever small stones were not completely blanketed beneath snow and ice.

By the time she had deposited the first batch her talons and wings were absolutely senseless, swept underneath icy numbing. Doing her best to push the intense discomfort to the back of her mind, Gilda enacted the next phase of her plan.

Finding trees in a forest was hardly an intense prospect. However, breaking off large planks of bark in such volatile conditions was a much more foreboding challenge.

It took much effort and a serious amount of strain, but the griffin was able to gather just enough planks to create a barrier over the narrow cave entrance.

It took scarcely five minutes. It felt like five hours.

Rushing back inside, she was relieved to find her draconic companion had improved slightly, being no longer a shivering, trembling mess.

Pushing one of the larger stones forward, Gilda pushed hard on the large rock, one that had been very conveniently broken from the wall Ghor knows how long ago.

The boulder was enormously heavy, almost to the point where the exhausted hen couldn't move it. After a minute or two of intense struggling, the griffin stacked the planks against the stones, barricading themselves inside.

Several cracks permeated the surface of her makeshift wall. However, the planks garnered just enough protection from the raging winter storm for her to be comfortable.

Slowly dragging herself back to her black-scaled companion, Gilda pulled her close, huddling against the ice cold dragoness.

Her breath coming in frigid exhales, the griffin pulled her stiff wings around, shaking off the snow behind her and pushing her body closer, the little warmth left in her seeping between her and the unconscious dragon.

It was going to be a long night.

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Gilda shivered. Not because of the cold, but because of the memories of that snowy horror. Up ahead, several feet in front of her, the dragoness walked steadily, no longer impeded or affected by the chill of the night several days before.

She didn’t remember how close to the edge she had been, and for that Gilda was thankful. How in Gaia’s green earth would she explain that to her, of all the near death experiences the dragon seemed to have gone through, the griffin was doubtful freezing to death was one that had sprung up before?

Snow still surrounded them, albeit in smaller mounds and a relatively thin layer on the ground. At least compared to the night several days before. Gilda shuffled the light pack she carried on her back, loose cans and materials shaking on the back of the loose leather satchel.

They had packed lightly before they left, at least a week in the past now. Strung loosely along the outside of their packs were various metal cans and strings of rope and linen, courtesy of the eldest hen of the household. Something about cooking and healing, a bunch of junk the younger griffin didn’t quite understand.

Cynder had her wool blanket around her as they walked, the dragoness still shivering lightly in the cold air. Gilda was thankful once again for her warm blood.

Speaking of which, the griffin was surprised to learn that particular fact, for most Equestrian dragons were warm blooded. A common misconception was that they were the opposite. Cynder had been vague on the details, nothing new. Gilda smirked slightly. Leave it to the dragon to want to be mysterious.

Deep down Gilda knew the exact reason: their unspoken encounter with the being from the forest had given them the opportunity, an unusual feeling of being one with the creature beside her. The hen trembled slightly at the memory.

Blinded and breathless. Drowning, cold and forgotten in the ocean. Hearing the thoughts of another so clearly, feeling like she was no longer just part of herself anymore. Even with Dash she lacked such a connection.

She needed to know more, to see that whale again, to learn its secrets, its purpose. Ever since the encounter the urge to meet it had grown stronger, sloshing around inside of the hen with ever growing force, an incomprehensible thirst she couldn’t shake.

Gilda knew Cynder could hear her. On some primal level, they were now connected. She didn’t know where the connection ran and where it ended, but there had been times during that night of ice and carnage that she could glimpse into her dreams. Though it was nothing but a haze of purple, she had seen something.

It was a sorrow she hadn’t felt in a long time, and it wasn’t even hers. That thought scared her.

Coughing once into her talons, Gilda raced up ahead to catch up with the dragoness, stumbling over herself once in anxiety. Cynder didn’t react in one way or another to the hen’s presence, her eyes boring straight ahead, lost in thought.

She hadn’t even been noticed, and that gave the griffin a rather devious idea. Quickly and silently, the hen reached down, clutching a small clump of snow. Smirking toothily, she quickly balled it up, before reaching back and slamming the ball home against the back of Cynder’s head, the snow splattering against her horns.

The dragon jumped visibly, rumbling low in her chest reflexively and jolting around. Gilda was rolling on the ground before Cynder’s eyes even caught her own.

Growling in rage, Cynder dropped her pack in the snow, flipping the blanket off of her and dropping it lightly into the snow. Despite the snarling rage apparent on her expression, Gilda could see a semi-amused twinkle in the jade eyes boring into her. Though her companion was cloaked in midnight black scales, she was practically glowing with indignation.

“You going for an early death there, griffin?” Cynder glowered at the hen, who was still rolling around on the ground in hysterics, watching the dragon shiver and shake with an interesting combination of rage and chill.

“I dunno, you tell me.” Gilda snickered, fighting back tears at her flustered companion’s mix of both anger and cold discomfort. The dragon’s eye twitched once, and for a split second Gilda could see the thoughts running through the dragon’s head.

How to Roast a Chicken with Acid, a novel by Cynder.

That completely and unexpectedly broke the griffin. Cynder’s glower intensified as the hysterical hen completely lost it, howling with laughter. For a moment, the dragoness was unsure of what to even do. Eventually her scowl dropped, a simply frosty glower resting upon her tense face. She couldn’t keep it up for very long before she warmed up, shaking her head in bemusement before turning. She lifted a paw, but paused mid air.

“If I get another snowball to the back of the head, I will actually drop you off a cliff with your wings tied.” Gilda could barely make out the twisted smile that crossed her companion's face at the bemused threat. The hen rolled her eyes, the unexpected laughter fading out as she got back to her feet, jogging up to her scaled ally.

“As if you could.” Cynder cocked a brow as she lifted her pack and blanket, depositing each upon her back, sitting between her twisted and scarred wings. Turning to look at the stone-faced hen out of the corner of her eye, Cynder’s grin twisted into a straight line.

“I’ve never hunted turkey, doubt it’s that hard.” Gilda could see her facial muscles tensing, clearly trying not to smile.

“Har har.” Gilda deadpanned, rolling her eyes and falling back into step beside her companion as they continued to trek through the woods. “How’s the map looking?” Cynder reached into her pack, slinging it over her side. She pulled a stained piece of parchment out, the faded goatskin clearly showing its age.

The hen plopped her haunches in the snow, Cynder doing the same, eyeing the griffin stoically.

Gilda took a quick look, doing estimations in her head. Scratching the side of her face as her eyes roamed over the map, she fixed her eyes on several landmarks, ones that stood out from the forest behind the pair.

“We’re making good progress.” Gilda thought back to the last few days. All things considered, anyway.

Cynder cocked a brow once again. “What’s the clock looking like?” Gilda’s beak scrunched for a second, mind whirling.

“Hmm… two weeks out, give or take a few days. The pass will cut quite a bit of time.”

Folding the map back up, Gilda handed it back to the dragon who carefully tucked it back into her pack, fumbling with it for a second or two before slinging it back between her crippled wings. Gilda grimaced as she noted the forceful cringe that Cynder’s muzzle bore for a second when her claws clipped the damaged appendages.

She said nothing, opting for respectful silence as they resumed walking in quiet.

The next hour or two passed quietly, the gentle falling of snow mixed with the peaceful sound of birds chirping. For once in the last few weeks, Gilda felt perfectly at peace, out in the wild where she belonged.

Casting a headlong glance, Cynder appeared equally at ease, her eyes drooped slightly and her face a mask of indifference and tranquility. Had she turned she would have missed it. The slightest twitch in her wings and a pained grimace that moved across her face quickly. The dragon’s teeth clenched violently, though it lasted for merely a second.

Gilda was about to ask, but decided it was probably unwise to do so. The dragoness seemed rather touchy on the subject as of late, though Gilda got the feeling she knew why. Cynder had probably come to realize the truth, that she would never fly again. It hurt her to know that her friend was in such torment, however there was not a thing she could do.

On a whim, Gilda’s beak opened, the words leaving before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry, I never meant to give you false hope.” She immediately shut her mouth, heart jumping as Cynder stopped dead in her tracks, eyes watching straight forward.

A moment passed, the dragon and griffin sharing a glance. Gilda was initially worried that her companion would grow angry and lash out; however, she was alarmed, and a little relieved if she could be honest, that Cynder’s expression was not one of anger, but of cold resignation.

“I think I knew from that first moment that I’d be grounded.” Cynder’s voice trembled weakly. Despite the tremor in her voice, her eyes were strong, or more perhaps they were aloof, intentionally indifferent.

Gilda’s voice was lost, her mouth not quite sure what to say. Despite this, Cynder smiled weakly at her, baring her soul for a moment.

“Thank you. For at least trying.” Cynder’s eyes grew moist, yet tears did not fall. Turning her head with a sigh, she regarded her damaged wings with a remorseful, bleak face. Turmoil written across her muzzle.

With a final smile, the dragoness continued walking, a noticeable spring in her step. Gilda wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Deciding that it was better left not questioned, the griffin fell back into step, draping a wing over her companion’s back.

“Not all eagles soar Cynder, some hunt from the ground.”

The dragoness regarded her quietly, a smirk taking over her muzzle.

“You’re not good with analogies, Gilda.”

“Can’t blame me for trying.” Cynder happily nodded, smiling brightly for the first time in weeks.

“It felt good to finally let that go. It hurt… but… it was a good first step, I think.” Gilda clapped her on the back, being very sure to avoid hitting her sensitive wings. Deep down, the griffin really wasn’t sure why the plight of this strange dragon had gripped her so hard, but she knew this was special, something she hadn’t even shared with Dash.

“One step at a time, one step at a time.”

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The Second Week

The forest continued on, spreading out in large fertile rolling hills, snow capping the tips of trees. Down below, the forest floor evened out in various sections, creating deep gorges and trenches in the otherwise even ground. The forest echoed with the humming and chirping of birds and insects.

Deep in the distance, mountains towered over the treetops, monstrously high peaks of a primordial being eclipsing all others in size and scope. If one were to look upon such a sight they would be struck, quaking in the way of such a view of ancient gods of stone and rock.

A hilly clearing overlooked such a monstrous beauty, a towering titan that was larger than beings of flesh and blood. Atop these peaks of snow and rock no sound pierced the veil, it’s silence unbreaking, it’s form unmoving.

Gilda had laid eyes on this sight before, yet it always took her breath away.

Sivyj Jar. The immovable mountains. The border of worlds.

Every griffin was taught of the place as a chick, the mountains that never ended, a sight that was considered something of a writ of passage. To travel to the border of griffinic territory was no easy task, the harsh winter had seen to that.

It wasn’t the first time she had been this far from home, yet those mountains had never seemed so foreboding. Her claws trembled in the earth, the toll of the journey starting to catch up with her. Cynder trudged along behind her, making it up the hill with a gasp, her previously atrophied muscles struggling in the climb.

Gilda silently began to make camp, reading the signs of the dragoness’s unbending fatigue. The journey was harsh, yet Gilda had not expected such terrible weather, the winter being harsher than any she had experienced. Even as she was wrapped tightly in both hers and Gilda’s blanket, the dragoness still shivered violently.

A fierce wind blew in from the east, its force nearly knocking the griffin over. That was never good. Cynder clearly was not amused.

“This cold… is a bitch!” Her teeth chattered, her form huddling further into the blankets, snow crunching under her claws. Gilda rolled her eyes, dropping her pack into the firm crush below. Unclasping several buttons, she unrolled a large quilt of fabric, laying it down onto the snow.

“Toss me your pikes.” She motioned over to the dragoness, who was scrambling underneath her blankets, shoving her pack beside her. She muddled through it, pulling out four small metal rods, throwing them to the griffin one at a time.

Poking them into the corners of the blankets, she slid the extended metal up one at a time, before sticking a large overhanging blanket over the top of the four metal rods, each one extending around four feet up. The sides of the large, heavy blanket reached down far, nearly touching the ground. All in all, the weather shelter would hold both of them comfortably.

Cynder wasted no time in diving inside of the shelter, still wrapped in a shield of fabric and wool. Gilda paid her no mind, instead training her gaze to the north, further past the mountains. Her keen vision picked apart the sights beyond like a stubborn child at dinner, her intense glower hanging over the rampant clouds, billowing and writhing in hellish motions as they broke and splintered over the tips of the glacial peaks of Sivyj Yar, spewing foamy fog down narrow crags and tunneling burrows in rock.

Brow growing more and more furrowed, Gilda paid ample mind to those that managed to survive the crags, their forms hanging lowly around the various peaks and glacial tips of the mountains. She glared at them momentarily, wondering silently what they would become. After a minute of silent vigil, the griffin was satisfied by the lack of progress in the clouds.

With a gruff sigh, she turned and pushed on the blanket, shuffling to her side of the shelter. To her surprise, the dragoness was already curled up, seemingly asleep, her breath moving the blanket steadily up and down under the blankets. Fluffing up her wings, she rested against the solid steel of an anchor pole, the frim metal remaining unyielding.

The bite of the outside cold did not reach her, instead the obstinate warmth of the blankets, and very quickly she found herself dozing off under the falling sun, a gentle orange glow sliding under the line where the blanket did not meet ground.

She had just begin to fall into sleep, when it sounded, far in the distance, but far more haunting than usual. A tone, echoing with sorrow, a furiously painful whine that permeated her very being. Gilda was up before she could even think, heart bouncing in her chest, stomach tumbling in cycles.

It’s note changed drastically, a vivid echo of a melancholy nature, the trembling baritone sludging around in her skull like a thick liquid. The griffin brought a talon to her skull, doing her best to will away the violent sensation, it’s perverse touch causing her to grind teeth and clench talons.

The feeling passed quickly, the call lowering before fading out completely. Gilda shook her head violently, dispelling the lingering effects of the call. Her vision was blurry, however she could easily make out that the dragoness had felt it just as she had, Cynder’s legs wobbling unsteadily as she clutched at her eyes.

Groaning, the dragoness lowered her claws, fixing the griffin with an unnerved stare. Gilda stared back, equally uncomfortable. They had yet to talk about this, the whale, the things it had made them feel. Looks like this would be it. Cynder beat her to the punch.

“Perhaps it’s time to talk about what that could all mean.” The dragon’s voice carried an almost inaudible tremble, the undertone backed up by the slightest shake in her body. Gilda nodded, however her mouth would not open. Each time she thought back to that first encounter, her mind blanked, washed away by the might of that being, it’s almost deity like presence haunted her waking dreams to their core.

“How do we even talk about it? What is it?” Gilda’s voice was slightly panicked, powerful fear and confusion rising up, finally freed from the griffin’s frantic suppression.

Cynder somehow found a way to let a wiry smile ease her features. “Pretty sure it’s a whale, then again I’ve been wrong before.” Cynder raised a claw to her chin, faking a thoughtful appearance. Noticing Gilda’s furious and downright terrified scowl, the dragoness quickly dropped the humor.

“Sorry, sorry.” Cynder sighed, leaning back against an anchor pole, shivering as a breeze wafted up from under the covering blanket. Her claws chewed the linen of her blanket anxiously, nearly tearing marks in the thick fabric. “I really….I don’t really know.”

The shelter went quiet for a few moments after that, nothing but the eerie sounds of the wind pouring in through the now dark winter forest. Gilda’s breathing was shallow, heart hammering underneath her fur and skin.

“We remember the same thing.” It was less of a question and more of a statement, one that her companion nodded along with, an uncomfortable grimace on her face. “We shared the same head.” Cynder’s grimace intensified into a full blown cringe, nodding once again.

Gilda once again fell quiet, contemplating the thoughts that her suspicions were true, much to her discomfort and chagrin. Neither of the pair could find the will to speak, the shelter lapsing into silence, one filled with tension and uncertainty.

Cynder once again broke the silence, her voice uncertain. “I’m not sure what this means for us, but we can’t panic.” Despite her words, the dragoness herself appeared visibly shaken.

“What do we do though? What does it want?” Gilda’s voice was audibly flustered, her hackles raised and eyes wide. Her draconic ally simply shook her head, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.

“I’m not sure, but….I don’t really get it.” Cynder’s fear seemed to fade slightly, a new interest perking up her voice. “If it wanted to hurt us, it simply could’ve killed us back at the Everfree.”

Gilda suddenly remembered something, and it made her heart jump, mind whirling quickly to process the implications. “What did it show us? It was….it looked like the end of the world.” That struck Cynder hard, her companion jumping back a step, wrapping the blanket tighter around her form like a scared child.

“Cynder?” The dragon refused to look at her, her muzzle fumbling for words, eyes growing moist. Gilda became more worried, the extreme reaction was far from what she could handle right now.

Before Gilda could press the dragon again, Cynder’s voice cried out, tears falling down her cheeks.

“It is the end! It did this to me!” Cynder gasped, closing her mouth behind a paw, the dragon’s throat closing up with a choked sob. The griffin was shocked, never having seen the dragon in such distress before.

Gilda’s eyes traced the massive, jagged scars covering a large portion of the dragoness's now unbandaged scales. She couldn’t imagine the force required to rip and tear her scales and flesh to such a degree. She hadn’t asked before, not wanting to agitate her, but now….

“Cynder….what are you talking about.” Gilda’s voice lowered, eyeing the dragon who had burrowed her face far into her blanket, shivering in abstract terror. The dragoness poked her head out far enough to see Gilda’s warm amber eyes gazing concernedly down into her own terrified and wet ones. This seemed to break the odd spell that had gripped the dragoness, Cynder’s body relaxing slightly.

Though her words were scratchy and trembled on every other syllable, her next sentence was legible. “There’s something that came with me….to this world I mean.” Cynder gulped audibly, a lump in her throat closing off her air as she choked out her next words weakly. “I can still feel it, tearing, ripping, pulled me apart.” The dragon’s eyes went foggy, a tear escaping down the side of her face and she trembled heavily, tugging on the blanket. “I can still feel my bones snapping, my organs being boiled inside me….”

Gilda grew nauseated, listening to the grotesque descriptions, that same thousand-yard stare dominating the dragoness's face as she recounted what had happened to her, almost absentmindedly.

“Slithering inside my stomach, iron beams running through my head, ripping my mind to shreds….” Gilda grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking the dragon from her near insane ramblings.

“Calm down, just calm down.” She pleaded with Cynder, who by this point was trembling visibly, her limbs quaking under the weight of trauma and abstract fear. “You’re not in the Everfree anymore, you’re safe.” Gilda pulled the dragon into a hug, one that neither her or the dragoness was truly expecting.

Deep down inside her cold heart, Gilda knew on some level the dragoness and her shared an unusual bond now, one that tempered and broiled on the basis of their experiences together. They were hardly compatible friends, each just as feisty as the last, Gilda colder, Cynder more distant.

It didn't matter now, they had shared one mind. Such an ethereal experience was hard to shake off. The hug had broken Cynder from her reverie, and she quaked harder than before, tears sliding down her cheeks and her voice hiccuping.

“It hurts. It hurts so much.” The normally stoic dragon completely broke, body shaking and sobs spewing forth from her chest and lungs with intense, rhythmic motions. Gilda’s coldened heart begged her to distance herself from this immense outpouring of emotion, however a deeper, stronger desire to bring comfort to her agonized companion took leave of her senses, a sting of pain rupturing inside her as she listened and felt the dragon’s pain, her intense trauma and sorrow bleeding over to the griffin in a way she had not ever felt before.

Gilda held the slightly larger dragon, gripping her tight against her chest as she cried her agony to the world, fear pouring out from her in rivers and splashing against the griffin. She simply held her, letting the dragoness finally let go of the pain, the mutilation, the terror that encompassed her.

Tears fell from the griffin’s eyes, listening to the heart-rending sobs of her only friend melted her from the inside, crying for the first time in so long. All she could do was hold her only true friend in this world, letting her cry and sob as she needed.

Gilda wanted to break down herself, yet she did not, only letting the dragon feel safe, secure enough to release her pent up trauma, a quaking mountain of sobbing and trembling that shook the normally aloof Griffin to her core.

In the valley a cold breeze whipped up, sliding under the shelter. Cynder didn’t feel the cold, only the shame, only the anger, only the pain.

I’m scared….this ocean is endless….where is my redemption….where is my salvation?

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The Third Week

Cynder’s legs ached, each step forward bringing with it a fresh pang of acidic burn to her muscles, the quaking sensations of blood pumping hard through her veins, ripe with adrenalic outpour. Her lungs choked on dry, cold air, each pulsing motion of up and down accenting her racing heart as she ran, trudging through snow and ice with a feverish pace. Cynder’s. Legs. Ached!

And she loved it.

Stretching her legs on a full on sprint, oh it had been far too long. Gilda trailed behind her, even as atrophied as muscles still were, the dragoness retained her natural speed, moving like a black blur through the opaque white landscape. Snow cascaded around her, piling up in clumps along the thin path, yet she did not feel the bite of the cold, only the heated exhilaration.

Freedom.

So pure and innocent, a feeling like no other, untouched by all troubles, freed from her chains. Allowed to run, to dash and sprint and climb to a place where she was free, oh so free. It was lovely, this long, thin path with naught a bend or curve for as far as she could make in the foggy cloud of white.

The blackness of her scales bled around her, the gorgeous white snow flowing around her onyx scales in a river of mystical light. She had never felt so free, the chill of the mountains flowing around her and between her claws.

She had never been so unchained. Never been so happy. Never been so close to her life.

She skidded to a halt, snowparting around her as she breathed deeply, a shining smile on her muzzle, eyes wide and wet. Everything around her was quiet, peaceful, not a sound permeated her senses beyond the pleasant buzz of wind and falling snow.

In the distance behind her, the dragoness made out a very vague brown figure, approaching with a moderate pace. Gilda.

Cynder snorted lowly and smiled softer; the griffon could use some speed. Taking a deep breath, the scarred black dragon let her gaze wander aimlessly between the snow covered trees and the ice capped mountains, oh so close before her.

As the adrenaline faded from her blood, Cynder could start to easily feel the biting chill of the winter forest, tightening heer ruby red blanket around herself. She pulled the fabric hood overtop her head, careful to fit her sharp ivory horns into the holes along it’s surface. Another gift from Gimle.

Cynder rummaged through her satchel for a quick second, pulling out a ramshackle waterskin, it’s form heavy with liquid, drops condensing along the outside of the touch skin. Taking a moment to fumble with the fabric lines tying it’s neck closed, the dragon moaned loudly as the icy water fell down her throat, easing the scratchiness.

Tying the string back tightly, as well as one could anyway with such sharp talons, Cynder deposited it back into her satchel, an audible thunk following.

Walking slowly along the path, Cynder waited patiently, the dragoness expecting her avian companion to catch up within the hour at this pace. The air here was heavy, laden with trapped moisture and thick fog, it’s vice like grip wasn’t exactly pleasant, but she made do as best she could.

An ambient noise caught her hearing, a near constant thumping sound echoing around the peacefully desolate world of the mountains, it’s drone pounding across the land. Curious, Cynder focused on it, eyes darting around in various direction to catch the source.

Closer and closer it came, and then Cynder saw it. An orange-brown blur flew overhead, landing on the snowy earth with a thud. The hen lowered her wings upon her back, casting the dragon a sidelong glance, one brow raised. “Forgot I could fly?”

Cynder rolled her eyes, coughing into one paw idly. “Not really.” She smirked lowered her brows and narrowing her eyes tauntingly. “Just didn’t expect you could fly fast enough.” Gilda refused to take the bait, fixing the arrogantly strutting dragoness a flat stare, nearly tempted to stick her tail out and trip the dragon as she passed.

“Rude.” Gilda fell back into step, speeding up to Cynder before easing down slightly.

“Oh you know you wouldn’t have me any different.”

“Don’t be so sure, you’re still a dweeb.” This time is was Cynder’s turn to roll her eyes.

“There we go again with that word.” Cynder fixed her companion with a sidelong glance, a hint of amusement sparkling within. “It doesn’t sound right.”

Gilda pushed on her shoulder lightly, meandering around a sudden tree in the path, hopping over gnarled roots and low hanging branches. “It’s called being cultured….or something like that.”

Cynder regarded her strangely, clicking her tongue at the hen while shaking her head. “Pretty sure that’s not the word I’d use.”

Their conversation died down after that, fading into familiar silence, with only the everpresent buzz of the mountain air soaking up the soundscape. It was comfortable to be that way however, their silence growing easy and relaxing.

The light crunching of snow was an oddly relaxing sensation, it’s touch long since grown to be familiar and expected in the griffinic highlands of the north. Further south, nearly three-hundred miles behind them was the olden town of Griffinstone, they had stopped along the first week for a day, Gilda having a relation to the dismal town that she would not divulge.

Up ahead, the mountains loomed, closely guarding them as they advanced ever closer. One thing Cynder had begun to notice over the past two or three days was the constant elevation increase, along with it following was an oddly foreboding feeling.

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, for it wasn’t the horrendously nauseating presence of the forest, it’s disturbingly unnatural form far in the past, nor was it the ominous, unknown purpose of the whale, it’s call far in the distance.

This gave her ease, for she had come to expect it’s foreboding and electrifying call, it permeated every fabric of her bone and flesh, and it’s absence was much more fulfilling than she had expected.

The new feeling was all the more unwelcome however, it’s mysterious presence creating an unusual feeling deep inside her. It was empty, desolate, isolated, and worst of all, she felt it grow stronger every day. Isolation, was by its very nature, a feeling she wasn’t all that unaccustomed to, but this was different, so very different.

Gilda didn’t feel it, that she knew of.

Perhaps it was the mountains, the forest, it was all new to her. She was stranded, shipwrecked here, with naught a way to go but forward, they were so close, the pass through the mountains awaited.

A day long journey instead of a three week one. She had already suffered through one of those, and it had drained her more than she would ever admit. This was a bittersweet trek, one that had affected her more than any other, it’s lengthy isolation driving her to the brink, with only Gilda keeping her together, her only companion, lost in this world now.

Her bones ached, her scars itched, her head throbbed.

Shipwrecked.

Stranded.

Lost in a liquid desert.

Her only anchor being the griffin beside her, and that of her purple companion, so far away. A trek towards ferocity, a voyage into shadow, a leap into the dark. “Anchor me to this world Gilda, I’m at your mercy. I owe you my life.”

….

Gilda noted the change in temperature nearly immediately. The wind suddenly shifted, brushing so lightly against her feathers, wings ruffling softly. She stopped, looking up slowly. Cynder made notice of her companions sudden change, perking a brow, and stopping to look at her.

The griffin paid her no mind, shooting up into the air, hovering in place just above the treetops.
Down below Cynder made naught a sound, instead circling her location, body ready for whatever hell had approached them.

There! To the west, just breaking over a narrow peak a surge of clouds, broiling and billowing, it’s dark grey mass enveloped the sun, drowning Gilda in a shadow, dark as night. She knew the sign, it was approaching, the wind blowing it towards her with a violent ferocity.

Gasping, she dropped from the sky, landing and grabbing her satchel quickly. Cynder was watching her with wide eyes, body crouched low to the ground, her face a grim line, unmoving and unflinching.

“Snowstorm.” Gilda voices nearly vanished upon the wind. The dragon flinched, a moment of weakness that was quickly washed away in the wake of firm, resolute fury. She nodded once at her, and without another word, the griffin was off, pushing her limbs as fast as possible in the relatively thick snow.

They had to reach the pass, to break the clouds and hide from the storm. There would be no escape from that monster this time.

Cynder raced hot on her heels, the thundering thumps of her paws slamming into the earth right behind her. Five minutes. That’s what they had. They needed to condense three hour of walking into that frame.

At this pace the pass would be nearly thirty minutes away. Gilda was tempted to fly, yet she strayed not, for her companion would surely perish.

Heart hammering in her chest, the once peaceful environment turned upside down, the furious maelstrom of mother nature prepared to run them over like an out of control train. Picking up her legs with more ferocity, the hen slammed her wings open, pushing off the ground in small bursts, gathering as much speed as possible. Despite her enhanced movement, Cynder remained beside her, easily keeping pace.

The hen knew Cynder could still easily outpace her, yet the dragon did not, her eyes set forward in a grim line, her eyes fluttering, but never closing. Breathing harder and harder, Gilda’s lungs burned, the dry, crisp air slicing her throat and crushing her lungs.

She dare not slow her pace.

A minute or two had passed and she could easily hear the wind now, it’s trembling baritone voice called out, massive growls of winds hammering the trees around them, clouding the path with runaway waves of snow and sleet.

Hopping up a foot or two for a quick second, Gilda snatched a thin line of rope from her satchel, tying one end quickly around her barrel in a loose knot. Cynder watched her with a look of abstract fear, the emotion breaking across her face without her knowledge.

Gilda landed, barely keeping stride, while at the same time tossing over and around the dragoness barrel, her form becoming harder to glimpse in the darkness enveloping the forest. The hen did not need to explain, the dragoness pulled the rope around herself taut, not being able to tie it, the pressure rubbed her scales raw though she did not notice.

“We aren’t gonna make it.” Gilda’s voice trembled, terror clouding her voice, fear of death now dominating her desperate mind. The dragoness beside her had a very different expression and tone, her teeth clenched angrily.

Snow began to pile around them, the icy particles raining in a thick shower as the storm encompassed them. Trees shook, trembling under the weight of the gales of snow and wind. The pair themselves was forced to push harder in the face of the howling squall.

Cynder had enough, whirling against the path, her eyes narrowed, glowing white, the essence seeping around her sockets and down her face as every desperate bone in her body was forced into action. Spinning rapidly, her tail blade sliced clean through their tether rope.

Shipwrecked.

Stranded.

Collapsed.

Underneath this wretched sun, I will die.

Garnering every muscle in her body into action, Cynder kept her pace, but deep inside her core, everything came to a halt, a furios, billowing wave of gray wisps pulsing out of her in massive waves.

With a beastly snarl of a desperate animal, she lashed out, the tides of wind sped around them, smashing back into the front with tremendous force, pushing the clouds and snow back a peg. Each second of channeling such an extreme force of wind proved ever taxing, her grip on the element being tenuous at best.

It was just enough however, the might of the storm halted in the face of the dragoness desperate rage, sloshing around, but not moving upon them nearly as quickly. Gilda was wide eyed, mouth open as the marks across Cynder’s body glowed with hot, white energy, pulsing like a throbbing wound, seeping gray energy out from her body.

Cynder screamed in pain, blood spurting out of her mouth at the excess use of energy, her body reacting negatively to the massive force she was exerting, yet she did not stop. After about a minute of this same treatment did she shut the conduit, the pulsing energy seeping back into her scales.

The dragoness breathed heavily, her limbs numb and blood dribbling down her chin in thick drops of dark red ichor. Despite her best efforts, she was not able to completely stop the fury of winter from advancing, however her desperate action slowed the storm considerably, pushing it back several hundred feet and slowing it’s velocity significantly.

“Bought us some time.” Cynder panted weakly and with a snarl, spitting a splash of red liquid into the snow, coloring it a deep ruby. Gilda shook off her awe, eyeing the gray death that had been pushed farther back into the treeline.

They now had ten minutes, how quaint.

“No time to waste, move!” Gilda rushed, fear still practically glowing on her face in the low light. Cynder made no effort to answer, only wiping the blood from her mouth and running, eyeing the storm warily.

It’s pulsing form began to vibrate with energy once more, pushing over the tree tops and sky in a monstrous wave. It was close, it’s near.

The pass was so close, it’s might hidden between the crags of the mountains that loomed, the gods of stone and metal guarding the key to salvation, a narrow hole in the shield, it’s tempting presence so close, so close.

Five minutes of running later, a span of time that seemed so short, for the storm loomed ever present, a terrifying entity that roared and screamed from overhead.

Gilda had never felt so terrified, so forced to run. She could not fly lest her only companion be swallowed whole by the fury of winter, and if she ran, they would most certainly be ran down, trapped underneath this frozen forest forever.

It had come, snow roaring around them, galvanizing them into further stress. The air had become so cold, so horrendously frigid that even the adrenaline burning inside them like a open flame was cooled into nothing by the freezing winds.

Vision swallowed, terror followed.

They had come so far, and yet they could not outrun Mother Nature, winter wrapping them up in its timeless embrace.

Gilda had nearly accepted her fate, the dragon beside her slumping further in the thicket, speed waning into a mid paced run, when that monstrous sea parted, revealing the oblivion and salvation ahead.

The jagged split in rock, it's opening hidden from the tumultuous storm. Gilda had never been so relieved to see a dark, forbidding cave in her life.

Deeper inside she could see light, the crags in the ceiling giving way to divine sunshine.

Pulling Cynder by the shoulder, Gilda flapped her wings with every last ounce of her waning strength, propelling them closer and closer to the safe haven.

Colder….closer….colder….closer

Thoughts blurred together, each of their minds driven now by the reins of self preservation.

With one last flap of her wings, Gilda catapulted herself and Cynder against the rocks, scraping flesh and scale along jagged edges, however numb they were.

Landing hard on unyielding, uneven floors, Gilda caught her breath sucking in huge gulps of lukewarm air, chest heaving with effort as she clutched at her chest, rolling along the floor.

Cynder was too tired and cold to do anything apart from suck in air, hardly moving aside from that. The dragoness gas her eyes closed, a rough, bleeding gash on the side of her face from the serrated rocks along the entrance.

Turning to face the dragon, Gilda heaved herself up slightly, crawling along the floor, her claw reached out, grabbing Cynder blanketed cloak from the floor. Grimacing as she shook it weakly, the griffin removed as much of the snow as possible, laying it over the trembling, hypothermic dragon.

Pulling her closer, Gilda held her freezing form firmly against her, desperately warming the dragon up.

Cynder opened her eyes blearily, giving the Griffin a weak smile, coated with dried red blood.

Raising a trembling paw, the delirious dragon laid the shaking appendage across Gilda’s chest, smiling with a nod.

Sighing in relief, Gilda went slack against the wall, holding the dragon close as fatigue slipped in between every muscle in her body. Cynder was trembling still, but the dragoness seemed to have fallen into slumber, judging by the gentle rise and fall of her magenta chest.

Closing her own eyes with a weak cough, Gilda choked down a sob, lying against the wall with a shaking sigh. This world had never seemed so evil, so harsh. Life hadn't ever been easy, but never had it been so cold, callus, so ruthless.

Her body soon went slack, sleep claiming her in that dark cave.

The morning did not come for a long time.

----------------
These Final Hours

This path was dark, so very dark, it's tunnels continuing on forever, a labyrinth so it seemed.

Gilda knew this path well, however her sense were clouded, fatigue draining her mind, hunger clawed at her stomach. Thirst welled in her throat, the scratchiness causing her far more discomfort than usual, sensory deprivation had seen to that.

Their food lingered inside leather bags, for they could not stop, lest they lose their way. It had long since grown cold, lying wrapped in thick sheets of flexible metal.

Each clawstep clacked against the granite ground, echoing dimly in the silent tunnel, it form illuminated through the ceiling by tiny cracks, splitting the roof of their coffin slightly.

They had been on this journey since morning’s light had broken the cave, waking them from their peaceful slumber, back to embrace the world.

Fatigue dulled their bones, quaking their muscles and slowing their senses. Despite this, they continued on, blindly following this never ending tunnel.

Minutes blurred together, hours flying by in this dark abyss. Gilda walked, onwards she trekked, the dragoness behind her gazing upon the dark as though it were the brightest moon.

Even for Gilda, the Griffin having walked this ten mile long tunnel many a time, had never felt quite so uncomfortable, the dropping of moisture upon her form not helping.

Hours of walking, not a single stop along the way, the fear of the dark being quite the reality. Cynder did not share this sentiment, though her mind was still encompassed in the algid reaches of the outside, the past rendering her silent.

For the Gilda, the darkness was crushing, an all consuming monster that preyed upon her frayed nerves, making her squirm at every little noise, her heart in a frenzy, visions of nightmarish, pulsing shadows pulling her into the corners.

The abyss lasted for an eternity, crushing the pair by silence and darkness, ending as abruptly as it had began.

Gilda and Cynder both nearly cried at the sight of the sun streaming through a point at the end of the crawl-space. Claustrophobia had tightened its grip on the pair that they could hardly breathe as the light approached, legs scrambling on stone as they began to run.

The otherworldly aura that encompassed that hole on the wall was swiftly expunged, the divine glow of the sun burning down on them, warming fur and scale alike.

Triumphant cries echoed along the bleak soundscape of the plateaus, they alone stood atop the peak. Down in the valley, it stood proud, looming over the forests and plains that surrounded it, the only thing larger than its majesty were peaks that guarded the city, standing watch like god-sent sentinels.

Gold and silver, the city glowed under the sun, a towering pinnacle of architecture and engineering complete with massive metal and wood walls, massive spires of steel, an immeasurable sea of buildings hiding beneath the highest of structures, those that transcended the brush below.

Gilda had seen this sight before, yet following such an ordeal, the glowing city had never been so gorgeous. Her legs quaked and a massive grin came to her face. Beside her, Cynder was in similar awe, eyes wide and wondrous at the sight before her, the great city rivalled Warfang, surpassing it in sheer beauty.

Each glinting beacon along the horizon of gold drew her further in, the warm sheen of the griffin capital driving away the bitter cold that had stuck to her bones for the last three week, it couldn’t hold a candle to the majestic warmth of that flaming beacon of gold and silver.

Gilda felt like they were over the hill, the comfortable blanket of home now settling over her. The first thing she would do when they got through those gates was to find a warm inn and snuggle under a quilted nest for a day. Or two.

A good meal, one that wasn’t a hard hunted deer or scraps from rabbits, but an actual well crafted meal from a slaughterhouse. Her mouth watered at the thought of it, the griffin’s empty stomach growling with displeasure.

Though despite her transfixion, Gilda knew they had a job to do, one that may or may not be the end of her. Even with this knowledge, she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that the worst was behind them, back in that hopeless, miserable winter forest.

Just the idea that death was soon to follow didn’t do much to surprise the hen, the ordeal of the endless sea of trees had done enough to dissuade whatever childish assertions she had about the nature of this task, for it would demand more of her moral compass than just that of playing hide and seek inside the castle.

She had never killed a thinking, breathing being. Never spilled a life in cold blooded murder. The more she thought about it, the more she began to realize that she had been purposefully avoiding that thought the entire way through this whole thing.

Looking back on it, her plan had been strung together out of desperation anyway, a hapless attempt to prevent her father’s death. The hen retained most of her innocence, not having known the feeling of slaughtering another griffin, or a pony for that matter, in cold blood. In saving her father’s life she had neglected in uncomfortable truth, the idea that she may have to trade someone else’s for his.

Gulping loudly, the griffin clutched at the ground, doing her absolute best to steel her nerves. Cynder apparently noticed her increasing distress, perhaps reading her thoughts all that well.

The dragon tapped her shoulder, causing her gaze to fly wildly over to her. “Come on, we got a job to do. We’ll get through this.” Cynder put a paw over her shoulder, gripping her tightly with firm, but reassuring eyes. “Together.” The dragon’s voice carried a renewed strength, perhaps having felt the same sense of relief that the worst was behind them.

Gilda nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, following the dragon as she began the long trek down the valley, towards the city. Before she began to walk, Gilda took one last look to mountains to her rear, eyeing the shadow cloaked peaks with unflinching determination.

Fear had clouded her mind once before, she wouldn’t let it do the same now. Their mission was simple on paper, just a few nicks in the plans could set fire to the whole operation as well as make her a target, a thought that hadn’t occurred to her until just now.

Getting through the gates would be easy, aside from her draconic companion who would have to find another means through the walls. Following that, they had discussed Cynder making some kind of diversion, either that or silencing their opposition along the route towards the military district.

Destroying the documents was the easy part, however finding them would be an altogether harder task, for her father’s death certificate was hidden deep in the backlog of criminal offenses, court martials piling up behind a pile of smaller cases.

Gilda silently thanked the inefficiency of Griffin law otherwise his demise would’ve happened long ago.

What then? Well, the escape from the city would be fairly easy if everything went according to plan, as it was much harder to enter the city than it was to leave the place. Though if the alarm was tripped….well….

She would cross that road when it came to it.

The prospect of murder lurked inside her, it’s vile touch turning the simplistic plan into one of moral ambiguity, and that very thought gave her a fair amount of alarm. One step at a time, that was the idea, just focus of avoiding conflict, they had already been through enough of that.

Her eyes wandered to the mountains, the ominous presence of which she had never known to fear, now seemed so much more frightening. Nature had struck at her with the viciousness of an angered rattlesnake, sending a dose of venomous fear deep into her core.

Sivyj Yar was behind them, but Den Gyldne Herligheten loomed before them. The Golden City, it’s spire glinted before her, yet it was nothing, far from as imposing as what stood behind even Sivyj Yar, the most primordial entities of nature.

Trees so tall they can not be felled.

Author's Note:

This journey has nearly concluded, however this is not yet the end.

Also, related, the chapter soundtrack:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkiu0cWboyc

Comments

[hydra30]

My God what a ruthless quest! Still waiting for the reunion of that dragonic lovers

[DDDDDDDDD23]

All twilight's research is going to do is give unicorns an advantage over everyone else. She may have an alicorn body but her mind is a unicorn's.

[DDDDDDDDD23]

I hate it when you have twilight try and steal what makes other people special for herself.
Ponies should not be able to use dragon magic becuase spyro dragons work with nature and ponies force nature underthere control.

[Starlix]

8774970 Not quite sure how you came to that conclusion, but the implication was not that Twilight would be able to use Spyro's elements, just that Convexity acted as a super conducter on her magic. They could only abuse that when Spyro was around, so it's not like it would revolutionize all unicorn magic. It's not as though she is stealing magic, it's merely Convexity plays havoc on all magic, including her own.

Twilight is ambioutious from a magic standpoint, that's been shown not only in this fic, but in the show as well, just because she thinks it can be harnessed doesn't mean it can be.

[NobleLeader6]

The thing that's got me hung up is, this entity that's chasing after Cynder and Spyro, seems to be quite relentless. What is exactly stopping it from continuing to follow Cynder and Gilda into the city, and wreaking havoc there? Cynder isn't strong enough to use convexity at the moment, and even if she were, I doubt she would make the connection that it is weak to that element in any quick amount of time. Even if it doesn't follow them into the city, it could simply wait outside where it last saw them and jump them when they think it's safe. This being seems to know where they are at all times, even if it can't reach them, so hiding until it goes away may be out of the question.

[Starlix]

8786798 hmm, I do like the question. The whale, if that's what you're referring to is not as much malicious, it's somewhat supposed to be always there, but rarely seen, I plan wrapping up the majority of its intent and the next chapter, so that's one more little mystery to solve, I love that you brought that up though. The Soothsayer on the other hand is connected to the Everfree, and at the moment that's all that's really known about, I'm trying to push the idea that it builds slowly to something larger :)

[NobleLeader6]

8787214
Oh, I was under the impression that the whale was simply some sort of extension or another form of the Soothsayer, but wasn't sure. Nice to know that it is its own thing. Now this brings up the question of what exactly these beings are. After re-reading I can't see, I can't breathe, I know enough to wager that the Soothsayer is some form of extra-dimensional parasite, essentially draining planets, potentially dimensions, of any form of life. The whale is a sole survivor of this, and has apparently set out to warn the next dimension that the Soothsayer is in about the threat. However, at the end of the next chapter, clearly either the whale or the Soothsayer is chasing Cynder and Gilda. The thing about these beings is that they remind me of the Old Gods from Lovecraftian literature. Beings so powerful and alien that the mortal mind fails to comprehend them, and has to either adapt to the circumstances or break completely, often ending in the latter. The whale, even if benevolent, is dangerous to the beings it is attempting to help, to the point of instilling a similar amount of fear as the Soothsayer. Interesting to see where this will go nonetheless.

[Starlix]

8788784 You're actually almost completely spot on with that observation, nice job! It's a bit deeper than that underneath the surface but you'll see as we go on ;)