- Messages
- 38
- Character Biography
- Link
Tigris barely had time to register the crackling lightning before the Nhaaz’khar let out a guttural, agonized roar. The scent of scorched scales filled the cavern as the beast twisted in pain, its talons carving deep trenches in the stone. But it was not dead—only enraged.
Her golden eyes darted to Talmanes just as he lunged from the window.
“No! Stay where you are!” she snarled, but her warning was lost beneath the sound of splintering shields and the panicked cries of the Tyrians.
The drake lurched forward.
A single warrior, one of the younger ones—Korr,—wasn’t fast enough. He had tried to move, had almost made it, but the drake’s massive claw slammed down before he could escape. The wet crunch of bone and flesh being obliterated echoed through the tunnel. A scream—cut off too soon—was all that remained of him. Blood pooled beneath the beast’s talons, steaming against the stone.
Rage and sorrow twisted in Tigris’ chest, but there was no time to grieve. The Nhaaz’khar as it locked eyes with her.
A deep vibration thrummed beneath her feet, a low pulse in the air that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. At first, she thought it was the drake—but no. This was different. Older.
Something was waking.
The gates to the old city had been opened.
The red runes on the cavern walls—once merely warnings—flared to life, and so too did the same runes she wore on her skin, their glow creeping like veins of fire. Tigris gasped as heat flooded her veins, her vision blurring for a fraction of a second. And then she felt it.
Power.
Not the quiet ley-threaded whispers of the world she had always known, but something ancient and dormant now roaring back to life. It poured into her like lava into a dry riverbed, a power that had waited centuries to be claimed.
The Nhaaz’khar lunged, its talons poised to rip her apart.
But Tigris didn’t retreat.
She raised her hand. And the air answered.
With a howling rush, the cavern’s stagnant atmosphere twisted into motion, swirling around her arm before exploding outward in a concussive blast. It struck the drake square in the chest, sending the massive beast skidding backward, its claws gouging deep into the rock to keep itself upright.
The force of it sent dust and debris flying, and for a brief moment, the battlefield fell silent.
Tigris stared at her own hand, fingers still tingling with the power that had just erupted from them.
This was not her usual magic.
Something had changed.
She glanced to the others, all who stood staring between her and the abyssal creature. "Go!" she ordered.
Her golden eyes darted to Talmanes just as he lunged from the window.
“No! Stay where you are!” she snarled, but her warning was lost beneath the sound of splintering shields and the panicked cries of the Tyrians.
The drake lurched forward.
A single warrior, one of the younger ones—Korr,—wasn’t fast enough. He had tried to move, had almost made it, but the drake’s massive claw slammed down before he could escape. The wet crunch of bone and flesh being obliterated echoed through the tunnel. A scream—cut off too soon—was all that remained of him. Blood pooled beneath the beast’s talons, steaming against the stone.
Rage and sorrow twisted in Tigris’ chest, but there was no time to grieve. The Nhaaz’khar as it locked eyes with her.
A deep vibration thrummed beneath her feet, a low pulse in the air that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. At first, she thought it was the drake—but no. This was different. Older.
Something was waking.
The gates to the old city had been opened.
The red runes on the cavern walls—once merely warnings—flared to life, and so too did the same runes she wore on her skin, their glow creeping like veins of fire. Tigris gasped as heat flooded her veins, her vision blurring for a fraction of a second. And then she felt it.
Power.
Not the quiet ley-threaded whispers of the world she had always known, but something ancient and dormant now roaring back to life. It poured into her like lava into a dry riverbed, a power that had waited centuries to be claimed.
The Nhaaz’khar lunged, its talons poised to rip her apart.
But Tigris didn’t retreat.
She raised her hand. And the air answered.
With a howling rush, the cavern’s stagnant atmosphere twisted into motion, swirling around her arm before exploding outward in a concussive blast. It struck the drake square in the chest, sending the massive beast skidding backward, its claws gouging deep into the rock to keep itself upright.
The force of it sent dust and debris flying, and for a brief moment, the battlefield fell silent.
Tigris stared at her own hand, fingers still tingling with the power that had just erupted from them.
This was not her usual magic.
Something had changed.
She glanced to the others, all who stood staring between her and the abyssal creature. "Go!" she ordered.