Knights of Anathaeum Lost and Found

[Margot Triss]

The air was crisp, a frozen breeze rattling the bones of leafless trees. The battle had been over, the retreat had been called. Syr Margot had not returned home. Time passed, had anyone noticed she had even been gone?

She couldn't even remember what happened, where she had been. Bare feet shuffled across frozen earth, the path home covered by powdery snow. She couldn't even feel the bite of cold on her bare skin.

She was barely covered, rags she didn't remember donning. Armorless, weaponless, her body numb, her mind blank. She didn't even shiver as the wind tore at her dirty, blood matted hair.

Her soft featured face, those kind eyes, they bore no expression now. Her body was covered in bruises, the bite of a whip could be seen on many places on her bared skin. She was close, she thought. She'd be there soon.

Blue eyes rolled to back of her head, her body finally collapsing in its duress. She fell into the trees, the soft flakes of snow that fell from the gray sky slowly covering her pale skin. There were no more thoughts, her body just willing the warmth of what sleep brought.

 

[Petra Darthinian]

They had been out scouting for a week. And still, nothing.

No hide nor fair hair of their missing Dawn Knight, Margot. The leads of cultist hideouts where they thought she may have been sequestered to, had been decoys. Leading them down trails that garnered nothing but wasted time. Time Margot didn't have.

And despite the weather having committed to making their trek across the Valen Wilds a miserable one, Petra and her Dusk counterpart, Syr Vega, trudged ever onward. A sputtering hope somehow sustained between them. Hope that they would find her. Hope that would find her alive. Let alone sane and uncorrupted by that dark Scion touch. Petra was nauseous at the thought of what Margot may have endured. Norvyk's growl in her head mirrored her thoughts, for they would take every pound of flesh and more for what those cultists may have done to her. A wrathful storm was brewing in the elf's heart, encouraging her dragon to make haste from one clue to the next.

But as Petra sat before the meager campfire she had built for them that morning of the seventh day, she questioned where they would search now. Considering the last one had taken them to a barren hideout. Stripped of every morsel of evidence the cultists of the Everwatcher had been there.

All except a stained dais in the center. The blood on its altar long dry, holding a single note for whenever they eventually found it.

A delicate scrawl mocking them with a simple sentence: "Getting closer."

Margot Triss Castor Vega

 

[Castor Vega]

Castor looked across the fire and saw exhaustion writ into his companion's visage. He imagined she saw something very similar. There was a weariness in his limbs borne of frustration. Yes, the pair had trekked many spans over the last seven days but the mental toll could not be underestimated. It was always difficult to maintain momentum in a search when the odds pointed to finding a corpse instead of a live person. Castor had no personal connection to the missing knight but had come to call them all his brothers and sister over these last five years.

An unfamiliar desperation had clung to the Sworn. He did not want to return to the Monastery with news of a fallen sister.

"Let's give this damnable thing another try," grumbled Castor as he shifted his weight. The Sworn reached to the vials that rested at his side. He removed one and placed it on the cold earth before him. His fingers danced with practiced movement as he engraved a runic circle around the glass tube. Castor then got to his feet, grimoire in one hand and the other outstretched palm-open to the magic circle.

This would be the seventh time he'd attempted the spell in as many days. A simple tracking spell but with many limitations. Distance and age of the catalyst being the two most pertinent. The catalyst in this instance being what he believed to be Syr Triss' blood.

Words of power were spoken, influencing the hastily carved runes.

Crack. Twin trails of crimson rose from fracture and fell upon Castor's eyes, momentarily tinting their normal hue. Seconds of silence passed until revelation found him.

"To the east! If I'm not mistaken, she is not far from here."

It disturbed him that the sinister altar note was possibly proving to be true.


Margot Triss Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

They had packed up their camp as soon as they could. The Dawnling noted the storm that approached them from the north in the distance, the encroaching dark cloud an ominous presence.

Petra deferred to Vega's direction and relayed the information to Norvyk who had been flying in the west and was about 40 miles from where they were now. He would meet them as fast as his wings could carry him, for they did not know in what state they would find Margot.

Nor with whom. The song weaver thought grimly. Norvyk answered her anxiety with his own bloodlust that bubbled between them, licking his proverbial chops at the opportunity to hunt those that would do his rider harm. She felt his eagerness, his arrogance. For he thought himself the most terrible thing in the sky. A sentiment that Petra secretly prayed she would never have to test the merit of.

Bolstered that they finally had direction, Petra trekked through the light rain with a pep in her step, following in the Dusker's stead as he led them to the wayward Knight. An easy back and forth between the two. Something they had had to cultivate these long days spent in the Wilds.

A dark thought struck her in the middle of vaulting a log that befell their trail. Something that had lurked at the edge of her mind the entire mission, and now that Margot was the closest she had ever been, it needed to be addressed.

"Vega? When we find her. What if... she is not the same? Changed. Corrupted. Is there a kindness in putting down a rabid dog before it has gone mad."

Margot Triss Castor Vega

 

[Castor Vega]

The knight hesitated a step at the other's question, and then continued on as normal. Only the sounds of the forest could be heard between the two until finally Castor spoke. "Aye, it can be a mercy but not one easily borne. Doubt will ever gnaw even if the desire was expressed." His words held the weight of experience, of knowing. The world could be a brutal place even in the best of times.

"These are dark thoughts, Darthinian. Best to leave such things to us Duskers," added Castor in a lighter tone. Similar thoughts had crossed his mind, it was impossible to avoid considering what they'd seen these past seven days. He simply knew that they would serve no good at this point. They needed to find their companion first; everything else came after.

Suddenly the Sworn raised his hand, motioning for them to halt. Castor's vision had blurred crimson. He closed his eyes for five seconds, red vapor poured down his face as the spell dissipated.

"She's here," he said in an even tone.

All they had come to despair was possibly only a few feet away. It did not stop his legs from moving forward, until they finally brought him before the broken form of Syr Margot Triss.

"She's here."

This time his voice shook.

Margot Triss Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

His words set Petra's heart pounding in her chest as she sprinted towards Margot's broken form. Her breath hitched at the devastating sight of the crumpled knight, concern twisting her insides.

"Fuck, Vega!" Petra's voice cracked. Hastily dropping her pack to the frozen ground, she fumbled to extract a blanket from her bedroll, its fabric rustling in the biting wind. With swift motions, she cocooned Margot, the thin fabric both shield and shroud against the looming cold.

Lifting Margot until she was half sitting up in the elf's arms, Petra felt the weight of her oath-sister's limp body. Placing two fingers to the juncture under her jaw, she felt the flutterings of life against her touch.

She was still alive.

"Margot, wake up! Please, wake up!" Her pleas hung in the air, punctuated by gentle smacks on Margot's still face, each connection deepening the worried expression on Petra's brow.

Desperation clung to Petra as her frantic attempts to wake Margot proved futile. The knight remained unresponsive even as the temperature plummeted, each passing second stealing warmth from the world. Spare rain drops starting to hit the tops of her shoulders.

The Dawnling made a disgusted and frustrated noise in her throat and moved to lift Margot's body, cradling the injured warrior against her chest as she stood and faced Castor.

"We have to get her out of the cold before that thunderstorm hits us. If we leave now, we can fly ahead of it and find shelter." Petra explained to Vega, the words escaping in puffs of visible breath in the frigid air.

With a worried glare towards the looming clouds, she began sending images of their location to Norvyk through their mental link. However, before she could complete her message, an agonizing assault pierced her consciousness — a searing pain that wasn't her own, but Norvyk's.

"Ah!" Petra cried out, dropping to her knees, bowing her head as if to shield herself from the unseen assault. She barely kept Margot from tumbling out of her arms and into the snow.

Amidst the disorienting pain, a distant and hauntingly familiar roar echoed through the woods.

"Vega, Nor-Norvyk. He's been atta-" Petra's voice trembled with the pain; her words interrupted by another surge of agony that seemed to emanate from the dragon. Sweat beaded across her forehead as she strained to relay the dire message. "A-ttacked. He's hurt. I don't know what it was."

The Valen Wilds, already a realm of uncertainty and danger, now harbored a new threat, shrouded in the ominous echoes of Norvyk's pain. Petra's breaths quickened, her focus torn between the injured Margot and the distant roar that signaled an unseen menace lurking in the shadows of the storm.

Margot Triss Castor Vega

 

[Margot Triss]

Black. That was all she knew, a void of nothing propelling her endlessly. She tried to remember who and what she was, but the only thing that lingered was a burning desire. A desire for what though, even that eluded her. Her earth shook, her limbs were moved, she could feel skin against hers. She tried to call out, no sound came. She didn't even know if she had a mouth to shout with.

There was crackle of light that flashed in front of her. She reached for it, and felt a jolt when her fingertips graced it. She reached for it again, there was something or someone calling her. "I'm here." Her voice croaked to herself, the darkness slowly lifting.

~~~

Margot opened her bloodshot eyes as Petra nearly dropped her, she could feel the bite of cold against her skin again, numbing and burning every inch of her. Petra still held her, and as she turned towards Castor, a bloody smile crawled across her lips. "You should have let me die." She shuddered in the arms of her savior, not knowing what she said, not knowing the true implication of what she was doing.

Her vision blurred, her lips closing as she felt that inky black void threatening to drag her back. Glazed eyes began to shut, her body quaking as the cold ate away at her. "Petra." the last thing she would say before her body gave out once more, too thin and too cold to stay awake.

Petra Darthinian Castor Vega

 

[Castor Vega]

Petra's frantic actions jarred Castor from his initial shock. Margot was alive, if only just. Fortunately his companion was quick to act and did what she could. Neither of them were healers which was looking to be a rather significant oversight on their part. Knights were trained in basic aid but a few bandages would hardly suffice. They needed to return to the Monastery with all haste.

"As you say," replied the Sworn without argument. "There's a clearing back the way we came, it's only-" The rest of Castor's words were drowned out by Petra's cry. He turned to see the other knight had fallen to her knees, yet not allowing Syr Triss' body to touch the ground. The Dusker swore; anything that gave a dragon problems didn't bode well for their fortunes.

Castor's mind raced towards possible solutions and then stopped, gaze fixated on the once unconscious knight.

The rapid shuffling of footsteps from behind left no time for questions. "That may still be in the cards..." he said with wry grin even as he drew his blade. A pair of cultists burst forth from the treeline. One had a flail and the other a pair of hatchets. Castor was already moving and caught the first in stride. His steel was swift and uncompromising. He pivoted and deflected the twin strikes, gauntlet hand lashing out in response. A sickening crack followed by a thud as the Sightless hit the ground.

"On your feet Darthinian! How am I supposed to tell that bloody lizard of yours we were late 'cause you had a headache?!" The muffled sounds of others approaching grew louder with each passing moment. Castor's earlier words may have seemed harsh but also held confidence in both Petra and Norvyk. They'd made it this far and Castor didn't have plans on dying easy.

Petra Darthinian Margot Triss

 

[Petra Darthinian]

"Oh, fucking fabulous." She muttered under her breath while trying to ignore the throbbing dull pain that began blossoming at her temple, her worry for her dragon growing with it.

Cultists continued bleeding from the tree line and Petra looked down at Margo's unconscious face. "Sorry, darlin'. But you're going to have to sit tight until we're done." Her voice apologetic as she bent down and placed Margo back into the snow. Rolling up to her feet, Petra took her hammer in scaled hand, a thunderous expression on her face.

"Let's dance."

Advancing with feral intent, she met the down swing of a blade with the broad side of her hammer, sparks flying as she redeposited the end in the man's gut with a mighty swing. Lightning danced down her other hand and she shot a bolt into the shadows where three cultists emerged, their bodies now contorting in agony.

As she fought, the elf tried to catch at the flashes of Norvyk's vision that flitted through her mind. She took solace that she could at least feel her dragon still flying closer. But the fact that she wasn't getting a clear thought from him, just images of needle teeth, grey leathery wings, and black beady eyes made a sick feeling weigh in her chest.

Still more cultists emerged with blades drawn. They were trying to overwhelm them with numbers. But none of them seemed interested in going after Margo. Was she really just bait? If so, why go through all the this trouble to try and kill so few of them? The question troubled the Dawnling as she dodged a nasty dagger aimed at her side, snatching the man's wrist and holding him there as she smashed her hammer into his head.

She looked over at Castor and saw he was still holding his own well and called out, "We just need to hold off for a bit longer! He's almost here!"

 

[Margot Triss]

Ice blue eyes snapped open as the scuffle began in earnest. Body lay motionless in the snow for a few beats, then she raised herself from the frozen earth, as if she herself had risen from the dead. She saw nothing, felt nothing, but an angry snarl disfigured her lips. Fingers curled into hooks as cultists breeched the tree line, Petra and Castor their fixation.

With an inhuman howl she launched herself across the snow laden ground, latching onto the nearest cultist she could grab. She clawed and bit at him like a woman possessed, her eyes open and staring as she maimed with her body alone. Blood dripped from her mouth, staining her lips as nails dug and ripped at flesh. Even the bite of a returning dagger did little to deter the maddened thing that Margot had become.

Petra Darthinian Castor Vega

 

[Castor Vega]

Steel rang as Castor clashed cruelly with another cultist. A quick parry and shift of weight saw his foe falter and the knight did not waste the opportunity. The Sightless joined the other two corpses already at his feet. On any other day this would have been quite the feat. Today he was not so lucky. Castor's experience with the Watcher's servants was limited, but knew this onslaught would not cease until the trio were captured or killed; likely the latter.

This was not a position they could maintain for long. As if on queue, Petra's words resounded through the din of combat. Castor was ready to snap back with his usual cynicism but the words died in his throat. He stood transfixed as Margot rose from snowed-ground as if possessed. The Sworn did not know how to properly describe Margot's next actions, only that they singularly violent.

"Seven Hells!" He blurted. "Dar-" Castor began to call for Petra but saw she was fighting her own battles. Let alone whatever was happening with her scaled companion. The knight spun on heels and ran towards the feral Pursuant. Dark energies lanced from his arm, vaguely taking the form of a hand. They latched onto the Sightless which Margot was attacking yanked him backwards. Castor drove a blade in the cultist's gut. Looking down at the mauled corpse he almost felt bad for the man, almost.

"Get a hold of yourself Syr Triss!" he yelled at the other knight. Considering her current state, Castor had no idea how she would react. He only knew that something was very wrong and time was running out for all of them.

Petra Darthinian Margot Triss

 

[Petra Darthinian]

A blade caught the side of Petra's cheek, and she answered it with a feral laugh. "You cheeky bastard!" She ducked under the edge that ran red with her blood and came up with a powerful left uppercut that snapped back the head of the cultist. She followed with a kick to his chest that knocked him back, her hammer following to crush his skull with a jarring squelch.

"And stay down." She spat in the snow, already looking elsewhere for the next cultist to fall to her might. But Castor's screams startled her to look his way, the vision of Margot's rabid form, covered in blood, a wild look of a cornered animal in her eyes, left the elf speechless. She took a staggered step towards the Pursuant, unsure of what to do, when a ball of fire flew passed her head and singed her skin, causing her to jerk back in alarm. Her inattention had almost cost her her life. Snarling, Petra turned back to a cultist that was charging at her.

Where were they all coming from?!

By the look of these cultists, it's like they knew they were outmatched and yet threw themselves at the Knights without regard for their life.

Unless...

Petra reached through her bond once more and tried to pull memories and thoughts from her dragon. What had happened to him?

******
Visions of grey fetid beasts filled her mind. Leathery skin peeling back from bloodied maws filled with needle teeth. Great hooked talons that twisted and formed in ways that must have caused them great pain.

But that pain made them vicious. Made them deadly. And deadlier were the glimpses of robed riders atop their hunched and serpentine backs, throwing balls of magic at her dragon.

Norvyk did not even hear them coming until a great swarm of them had descended upon him while flying back to his rider. He screamed his rage as their talons tried to rip the scales from his body. Their sonic screeching disorienting him and causing him to lose his ability to orient where he was in the sky. Petra could feel their small teeth try to find purchase and tear him apart.

How dare. How dare they touch her dragon.

The dragon rolled, flinging his wings out to resteady himself, his maneuver shaking them from his body. He pumped his wings with renewed fervor.

Diving and dodging the smaller forms of those monstrous flying creatures. Everything about them was wrong compared to him. Nothing was beautiful. Nothing was natural and magnificent.

Only corruption and hunger.

*****
A dark foreboding realization bloomed in her chest. Its gripping tendrils felt like the beginnings of panic.

"Castor!" She blocked the downstroke of a sword. "They mean to hold us here!" Lightning rippled down her arm and released its torrent into the face of the cultist she fought. "It's a trap. All of it. We have to get out of here before they get here!"

Norvyk was close. His angry roars could now be heard through the forest. A promise of wrath on the wind.

Castor Vega Margot Triss

 

[Margot Triss]

Margot stumbled slightly, confused as the Sightless she had been mauling was suddenly ripped from her. There was no recognition as to what had happened, and she was stopped dead in her tracks. She turned slowly, the voice of Castor echoing in her ears. She faced him, blinking slowly, still struggling to recognize her fellow Knights. Bloodied lips turned up in a smile, as if she didn't remember trying to rip a man apart with her bare hands.

"Castor, it's you!" She took a faltering step towards him, confusion evident in her features. "What..what's happening, where are we?" She looked down at herself, then back to Castor, her eyes widening as she saw Petra locked in battle. Her eyes grew wide, and she stumbled towards Castor, fear evident in every quaking step. He was closest, and she was so lost and confused. Norvyk could be heard throughout the forest, his cry fearsome and magnificent. Margot wanted to go home, she needed familiar ground. She reached the armor clad man, to her he was salvation in this moment. She clung to him, her chest heaving as she tried to reign in the dose of adrenaline that was currently driving her mad.

Petra Darthinian Castor Vega

 

[Castor Vega]

Castor nearly flinched at Margot's serene smile. He wondered for a moment if her madness has worsened rather than abated. The confusion in her tone was unfortunate relief to the dusker. He wasn't sure how he would've responded otherwise. Too much was unknown about the Cult, who could say what horrors had been inflicted upon her mind. Margot's questions drew Castor from that dark line of thought. Answers would only come if they survived. "I think explanations are best left for later. We're in a spot of trouble, a big fucking spot I might add."

He held onto the other knight, allowing her to steady herself. Castor needed a moment to think but Petra's voice disabused him of that luxury. Of course it was a trap, but to what end? What could they possibly gain from capturing another of knights, especially when a Pursuant was already in their grasp. The vicious serpentine roar raged clarity into Castor's mind.

"Back towards the clearing!" yelled the knight to his companion. Norvyk was as good as dead if he tried to land here. And if he was dead, the rest of them were certain to follow. Castor looked to Margot, wondering if she had the strength to walk. He had ways to grant the other knight temporary power but was hesitant considering the...fragile state of her body and mind.

The sworn instead grabbed a trio of phials at his side and flung them in the opposite direction they needed to run. Glass shattered, leaving a sinister ooze on the snow floor. Once again he muttered words of power and the liquid transmogrified into poisonous miasma. A pair of cultists attempted to run through and found flesh melting from their bones. The remaining cultists paused, apparently not entirely immune to fear

"Shall we?" said the knight in vain attempt to cover up his own desperation.

Petra Darthinian Margot Triss

 

[Petra Darthinian]

The dark clouds that they had been trying to outpace were finally upon them. With an ominous rumble, the heavens opened up, unleashing a torrent of freezing rain and sleet that blotted out the last of the winter sun in a grim, icy curtain. The icy winds slicing through their outer layers like a knife to the skin.

Petra's heart raced as she heeded Castor's urgent cry, delivering a blow to an assailant's ribcage, who seemed surprised to find his chest suddenly crushed. Breaking away from his falling corpse, she cursed silently, her breath hitching in the frigid air. Racing toward Castor and Margot, every step through the snow feeling like two, her chest burning with the cold.

Norvyk's mind remained an indiscernible whirlwind of anguish and fury. Her attempts to connect with him met only with chaos and a sense of unbearable distress. Fear gnawed at her insides, a dread that threatened to bring her to her knees. But she fought against it fiercely. She couldn't panic right now. Panic was a luxury that would do nothing but get herself and the rest of them killed.

Please, please, be okay.

She pushed on, each thought a fervent plea for her dragon. And despite the lack of coherent responses, Petra inundated him with the image of their destination, a clearing that offered a slim chance of sanctuary. Hoping against hope that her dragon would find them.

The Dawnling witnessed Castor chuck three glass phials and the resulting sounds of screams and hissing flesh behind her spurred her only faster. Petra was glad that Vega wasn't willing to show the enemy mercy. But even still, some ways of dying were worse than others. And the thought of going out like that was horrifying.

A stray bolt of magic whizzed past her head as she reached Margot and Vega. "Go, go, go!" Petra urged; her voice strained but determined as they sprinted toward the sanctuary of the clearing.

Their frantic dash for safety was met with an onslaught of hostile magic behind them, bolts whistling perilously close. Adrenaline surged as they neared the clearing. The distant haunting screeches of creatures unknown grew louder.

Dread chilled her bones colder than any blizzard ever could. Never had she felt more like prey in her life.

Suddenly, a deafening crack tore through the air as Norvyk emerged over the treeline. As her dragon thundered over the canopy, his dark emerald scales marred by blood and his body enveloped in crackling lightning, a gasp escaped Petra's lips. The grotesque grey-winged creatures she had glimpsed through Norvyk's mind were nowhere to be seen, but their ominous screeches lingered in the air in hot pursuit of her dragon; they had but mere moments before they caught up to him.

As the dragon landed heavily in the clearing, earth and snow erupting around his powerful limbs, the three of them racing towards him, desperation fueling their strides. Norvyk reared back, a lethal snarl contorting his features as he unleashed an unforgiving torrent of lightning, the crackling energy searing past them and into the mass of cultists that had been relentlessly chasing them.

When the blinding brightness of the lightning dissipated and all she could hear from behind them was quiet, Petra realized that both she and Castor were wearing their saddle harnesses. So as they reached Norvyk, Petra halted Margot, who teetered on the edge of slipping back into blind panic.

With the brief respite that Norvyk created, Petra grasped Margot firmly, holding her face steady in her hands and trying to capture her attention. "Margot, look at me," Petra said urgently, her voice pleading. The woman's gaze wavered, pupils pinpricks of panic and uncertainty. "Margot, I said look at me, damn it!"

For a fleeting moment, there was clarity in the Pursuant's face, a brief connection in her eyes. "Listen to me carefully," Petra continued, "We don't have time to switch saddle harnesses, and I can't trust that you're well enough to sit in the saddle without one. Norvyk is going to carry you, do you understand? We're not leaving you behind, so he'll have to hold onto you. Nod if you understand."

Castor Vega Margot Triss

 

[Margot Triss]

Castor, her refuge in this moment, was quick to react to her. He kept her from losing balance as he calculated their escape. She could smell the acrid contents of the vials as he threw them, and she knew that she must away from here. She was fighting many things, her mind was slow and she didn't remember. Her body was numb, she couldn't feel. There was something not right with her, more than the obvious. Something that was hidden from her.

She followed Castor with unsteady steps, he was trying to protect her, she couldn't continue to bog him down. Then, through the daggers of snow and icy rain, Petra, a goddess in her own rights was before them. She was urging them onwards, not to give up.

The shudder of the earth beneath them as Norvyk landed was nearly enough to topple Margot. She could feel the electricity in the air as the massive dragon covered their retreat. She was losing focus again, Petra's firm grip on her as she tried to explain giving the girl some clarity. She felt the world starting to slip sideways again, Petra's pleading eyes begging for understanding made the abused knight nod. Yes. Norvyk would bring her home.

Petra Darthinian Castor Vega

 

[Castor Vega]

The chaotic escape to the clearing had been but a blur to the Sworn. He slung cantrip after cantrip in attempt to slow their pursuers down. His strategy seemingly effective to some extent seeing as how he wasn't dead. There was still time for all that as Norvyk was nowhere to be seen. Castor steadied Margot so he could focus on his magiks. A haphazard wall of mana separated the two knights from a litany of hostile spells.

Castor turned at the sound of the dragon's appearance, bracing himself as the ground shook moments later. Needing no further encouragement, he urged the Pursuant towards their scaled savior. A brief lapse of concentration, however, was all it took to invite danger. Castor swore as pain lanced through the back of his right shoulder. He'd been hit by something, but there was no time to figure out what.

Destructive lightning arced past them, making it unlikely for Castor to be hit a second time. Fortunately Petra had a clearer head than he as he quickly figured out how best to accommodate Margot in her current condition.

Muttering prayers to gods he didn't believe in, the Knight Anathaeum made sure his harness was tight. Castor was certain he wasn't going to enjoy whatever happened next.

Petra Darthinian Margot Triss

 

[Petra Darthinian]

Water clung curls to Petra's face, and she struggled to see through the rain to locate where the blood was coming from on her dragon, let alone if it was even his. Still, she couldn't help but run relieved fingers over his scales, trying to stop their tremble as Norvyk lowered himself for Castor to climb up.

"Rider." His familiar rumble rolled through her mind and the ability to hear him once more in her head almost sent the Dawnling to her knees.

The urgency to leave ate at her chest. But she couldn't help herself. The fear for her dragon's safety had caught up with her and her breath shook in her throat, she needed to make sure he was okay,

Rain sluiced rivulets between the joinings of his emerald scales and Petra stepped into his shoulder, pretending to adjust the leather straps that secured his saddle as an excuse to continue checking him over.

"Rider." He insisted, but Petra ignored him. Glancing up to be sure Castor had settled into the saddle and clipped himself in. She made to walk to Norvyk's left hind, where he seemed to be favoring his leg from what she suspected was an injury.

"Let me just—" A piercing screech tore through her words.

"RIDER. Enough." He snarled, whipping his head round to bare his teeth at Petra. The elf only snarled back at him in challenge.

"Fine." She acquiesced through gritted teeth. Grabbing a side strap, she hoisted herself up into the saddle and sat in front of Castor, Norvyk already lurching to all fours while she clipped in.

From the direction of the clearing where they had found Margot, came the haunting beats of flapping wings. One, two, three, no, four sets on the wind. Her heart leapt into her throat and trepidation bottomed her stomach as she squinted through the grey skies, trying to find a visual for what hunted them. There, a flash of mouths full of needle teeth. Rows of fangs made for ripping and tearing muscle from bone. Ragged black gums that bled from the sharp bits that controlled their long snake-like heads, reminiscent of dragons, but only dragons that had been borne from the depths of caves. Grey fetid skin that shunned the light, never to know the warmth of the sun or a kind hand. These were creatures made for malice. Made for death. The visions from Norvyk's head made flesh. And they were headed right for them— the dark shaped bodies astride their backs shocking Petra into action.

"In the air now! We'll cover you." She desperately searched the thundering clouds, with three people, she doubted even Norvyk could outrun those rabid hounds of the sky for long.

But she was sure they had one advantage that the cultists did not. Norvyk was a storm dragon. He was made for this weather, born from it. A master of its winds and a child of its crackling lightning. All they had to do was lure the enemy into that storm and they would have them.

"There! Norvyk, into the eye of the storm! We can take them from the inside!" She shouted over the tempest.

Norvyk answered with a bone-chilling rumble that begged for vengeance and his pound of flesh.

Gingerly, Norvyk collected Margot to his chest and wrapped a delicate collection of talons around her middle securely. A pained hiss escaped his maw as he bunched and launched from the earth with that injured back hind.

But the wind ate the sound and the only one who flinched was Petra.

Castor Vega Margot Triss

 

[Margot Triss]

Margot was aware to an extent of what was happening, but her reactions and thoughts couldn't perceive really what was going on. She knew her friends, and she knew her enemies. She knew to trust Petra, and when the storm dragon towered over her, she accepted his presence with an ease that should have made even her flinch in a normal state of mind.

Spells, and grumbles, and screeches slurred around her in the rain, but she stood firm and waiting. Her thoughts purely on what Petra had demanded of her so fervently. She shouldn't even be standing right now, but there was something beyond her that compelled her into action. Even the cold wasn't biting her into submission like it should, though those hits were bound to be coming after safety was reached.

Norvyk gingerly wrapped his talons around her, securing her against his chest. Despite him being a dragon of the storms, she could feel a heat through the scales on his chest. It was soothing to her, despite being wrapped in weapons meant for shredding and decimating. Home. He would bring her Home.

Petra Darthinian Castor Vega

 

[Castor Vega]

"Oh, oh bloody gods," swore the knight as they took to the air. Castor was not a man easily shaken. He'd spent his early years on the sea, the buck and sway which often nauseated others. It turned out the world was a far bigger place than he'd imagined. Never did Castor think to be on the back of a dragon, let alone in the most dire of situations. He gripped the saddle tight as they took to the sky amidst unending chaos.

A cacophony of shrill screeches was enough to pierce the din of combat. Castor turned to see what could only be described as winged abominations. His instincts kicked in as he attempted to urge the dragon forward, but quickly realized the futility of his efforts. This was no Kaliti steed and he sure as hells wasn't its master.

"The inside of what?!" Castor called from the back. He knew she couldn't have been talking about this massive godsdamned storm. Surely this was not their best option. Yet any argument he could've made was subdued by their alacritous needs. The Sworn instead turned his attention inwards as he focused on gathering mana. A dull crimson shield began to coalesce around Margot's limp body. Whatever was to come was not likely to be gentle to anyone, let alone a person on the verge of death.

A sharp sound whizzed passed his ear only moments later. Castor barely caught glimpse of the projectile and yet knew that it would easily skewer him.

He may be the only sailor in history keen to wade into a storm.

Petra Darthinian Margot Triss

 

[Petra Darthinian]

As Norvyk flew them into the tempest and up, the deafening roar of the wind enveloped them, swallowing anything less than a shout to communicate.

"Keep them off, Castor!" Petra yelled over her shoulder.

Leaving Castor to the offensive, Petra tried to focus inward amongst the chaos. Evening her breathing while she poured her own magic into Norvyk's efforts. Bolstering him with all she had. If they could just make it to the eye of the storm. Petra had never done that before, let alone with other people on board, but her gut was telling her to trust her dragon to see them through.

Rain hammered against them, stinging her skin like a thousand angry hornets. And this deep into the storm, when the great cacophonous thunder boomed, it shook her teeth and the very marrow of her bones. Yet still Norvyk flew, trying to find the center like a homing pigeon, his massive wings struggling to catch purchase in the high winds, forcing him to flap relentlessly. While also trying to dodge magical onslaughts, Norvyk's wings occasionally caught in the gales, providing an opportunity for the cultists to close the gap.

A movement above made Petra gasp and raise her arms to defend them, but she was too late and a cultist on their fell beast slammed into Norvyk's neck from above and their tangled bodies plummeted through the air.

"Hold on!" Petra's cry merged with Norvyk's enraged roar. The beast's talons were like that of a bat's and sunk their hooks into Norvyk's scales, a cultist clinging to its back. Petra's heart raced as they fell, holding onto her saddle and screaming Norvyk's name, trying to orient herself enough to even cast something to save him, save them. Through the rain she watched the fell beast almost find purchase behind Norvyk's head to sink its rows of serrated teeth into his spine, yet fail when her dragon's spiraling horns kept knocking it away.

Still, they fell, locked in a desperate and deadly aerial ballet, Norvyk unable to dislodge the winged horror due to holding onto Margot, refusing to let her go.

But it wasn't until the air began to stink with the rancid chanting of whatever spell the cultist was preparing that Petra felt her dragon's intent. With barely a moment to spare, she threw her arm back to grab hold of Castor as best she could, screaming at him to duck low and then she flattened in her saddle as Norvyk struggled to tuck his wings into his body from their freefall, and instead of trying to shake the beast loose he dove from the sky. Petra yelled as she fought to keep her grip on Castor and one on her saddle. It was then that the storm dragon began to spin. Corkscrewing through the air at breakneck speeds, death rolling this fell beast from his body like a rabid crocodile. The cultist clung to his creature, but without a saddle he had nothing to hold onto but his rain slicked reins. With a shocked yell the man was wrenched from his beast and lost to the skies. The riderless fell creature screeched incoherently as it tried to hang on, but it too came loose from the velocity and tumbled away into the dark storm after its master.

Another moment they span and suddenly Norvyk snapped his wings open and lurched them from their free dive. Panting, Petra rested her head briefly against the front of her saddle, that maneuver having even shaken her fortitude of the sky. But she sighed past the nausea and instead in relief at still feeling Castor's weight behind her. Glancing down passed an emerald scaled shoulder, she could see the rain slicked blonde head of their pursuant, Margot.

Finally, she noticed the strange quiet, an uneasy respite from the storm's wrath and looked around. Swirling dark gusts of wind and clouds still surrounded them, flaring with the bright light of dancing lighting, but they were distant now. The pocket of air that Norvyk was hovering in was eerily calm. And for now, devoid of even the fell beasts that had been upon them moments ago.

They had found the eye of the storm.

Margot Triss Castor Vega

 

[Margot Triss]

Margot was protected in the mighty grip of the storm dragon, though not immune to the lashing of the wind and rain that befell them. She hummed softly, seemingly unawares in his clawed embrace. Glazed eyes stared at nothing; no fear touched her delicate features. She stared out from her new tomb, watching the world dip and sway, and plummet beneath her.

She couldn't hear her companions, a trust imbedded in her knew they would keep her safe. Her ears pounded with the sound of the storm, her heart matched the rumble. She was going to go home, they were going to bring her home. It stopped suddenly, maybe she had gone deaf. There was nothing but dead air holding them up now. Maybe they had died after all. Slow slurred words, her tongue thick against the roof of her mouth. "Are we dead Norvyk?" Though she knew he would not answer. A senile smile on her lips, she stroked his claw with grubby hands, sinking once again into her mania.

Petra Darthinian Castor Vega

 

[Castor Vega]

"I'm a knight not a damned dragon!" He shouted back. Their foes closed in but Castor was limited in his options. He was starting to favor his odds against an unending swarm of cultists on the ground than a handful of fellbeasts in the sky. Their desperate fealty had been given to one ineffable soul. Baleful gazes hounding unperturbed by even the strongest squall. He could only wonder what men could do against such reckless hate...

Castor could only do what he had always done, that which he was capable. He reached to his side and pulled a trio of vials, contents sordid in appearance. Words unheard through storm and known by few were chanted without error. Castor tossed them over his shoulder as if separating wheat from chaff. His hands formed a steeple of faith forgotten. Old magick surged through his body bringing both power and pain.

"Cease," he spake in a tone of the iciest calm.

Glass vials shattered and coalesced into a being that could only be described as a demon. Hands of horror sprung forth from its ubiquitous form and snatched without abandon. Riders were pulled from saddle and sent flying to their inevitable death. Even the terrifying winged beasts found pause.

Many foes had found their end but not all and Castor was spent. Petra would find her grip on Castor all too easy as he slipped from consciousness. He wouldn't know at the time how she'd saved his life.

He came to conscious in the calm. His sentiments echoed Margot's though his words were certainly not as gentle. "We best not be dead Darthinian. Gods should've least given me solid ground in the next life."

Petra Darthinian Margot Triss

 

[Petra Darthinian]

With a manic laugh that was born of sharp relief, Petra patted the part of Castor's leg that she could reach, a comically wet slap from their drenched clothes. "Nay, Castor. I don't imagine that we would be going to the same place if that were the case."

Taking a moment to assess that they were all indeed in once piece, she leaned forward to see what damage she could that was prevented by her dragon's scales. Her hand trailing with concern along his neck, as she felt Norvyk shudder beneath them.

Through their bond, she spoke to him.

"Norvyk, speak to me. I can feel you're hurt."

A reluctant rumble emitted from his chest. "They will have to do more than try and bite at me with the feathers they call teeth to break my hide and render me from these skies." His following hiss was filled with indignant venom. "They are poor copies of a superior mold. Me."

Petra did not find his words as reassuring as she wanted to. She could feel the pain in his neck and the ache in his wings as if it were her own, albeit only an echo of what Norvyk suffered. But he would live and that's all she cared about.

Yet, as if fate heard her thoughts and thought them a challenge, there was a great crack of thunder at the edges of the storm around them. And through that booming, she could hear the shrill screeching of more fellbeasts. Fighting the winds to get to them and no doubt tear their bodies from the sky.

"Motherfuckers. They just won't quit! Hold on!" Baring her teeth, she gathered her wits and her soaked reins and redirected her dragon in the only direction they could escape to—up. There, through the eye of the needle at the top of this raging tempest, could she glimpse calm and clear skies.

Her dragon answered her with a great flourish of his wings and turned to that beacon above them with a roar, his wings pumping great buffets of air as he climbed in a steady spiral. Small residual sparks arcing from the edges of the storm to dance against the scales of his underbelly.

Petra held her breath and stayed the hope that warred with the anxiety in her chest. They were on a knife's edge. Outnumbered, yes. But if fate favored them, they would not be outmaneuvered before the sanctuary of the Monastery crested the horizon.

Castor Vega Margot Triss

 

[Margot Triss]

The clothes she wore, if you could call them that, clung to her thin and malnourished frame. She was soaked to the bone, her lips turning purple as the rain fell like needles on her skin. The wind felt like razors, tearing at delicate flesh as Norvyk kept them aloft. She had tears in her swollen and bruised eyes as she realized she was causing friends pain; they were trying so hard for her. Maybe it would have been better if she had frozen in the snow instead.

Thunder erupted around them, lightning dancing through the clouds that surrounded them. The hellish screeches of predator seeking prey filtered through the booming voice of the Gods. Margot lifted her head to the heavens, her hair plastered to her face as she silently pleaded for their escape. She could feel the vibrations as Norvyk beat his mighty wings, the roar that reverberated in his chest. There was hope, and Margot knew now that they would not be caught. They would make it; she could count on them. An arc of lightning seared past them, the sizzle of static electricity making her teeth chatter. The shrieking of the enemy was closer, but the scent of burnt flesh too was about them. Their foes would not chase them unscathed, be it from dragon, magic, or the wild of the storm itself.

Petra Darthinian Castor Vega