Rain fell in thick sheets; spattering the cobbled sidewalks and freezing anyone who ventured outside. Most, therefore, sat in cozy stone houses, huddled around fireplaces, their dragons curled up at their feet. Most, being the key word.
Panicked footfalls fell, light and fast, splashing in puddles. Behind them, the low rumbling of a jetblack dragon, following its master closely as she darted up the hill towards an ominous cliff. Lightning streaked across it, illuminating the craggy entrance to an ancient structure, as well as the contours of the womans face; sharp cheekbones, curly red hair, and fierce green eyes flashed in the sudden light. Behind her, her dragon roared, a sharp, angry cry that started a chorus.
"Hush, Cadarn." She soothed her dragon with the palm of her hand. He nuzzled it gently, following her up the steep hillside as she clambered the rest of the way towards the structure. It had been chiseled long ago, by her ancestors, as a place for safekeeping of something so precious, very few had that pleasure to see it.
"Cardarn, the door, if ye' will." She brushed the top of her dragon as he pushed open the heavy oak doors. They creaked audibly against the storm, a strong gasp that left the silence inside even heavier. Cadarn looked back at her.
The Vikings to the Northeast called them Nightfury's; a dark, dive-bombing specialist that was rare to those shores, but common to these. They roosted among the cliffs, reveling in the thunderstorms that frequented the area. Toireann's ancestors had claimed these cliffs as their home, and befriended the dragons that lived among them. Along with that, they had found an ancient relic, which they kept safe in the very vault she tread in.
Toi stepped lightly; it was rare anyone ventured into these ancient halls. It looked like a mead hall; dusty lanturns hung from rusted chains, rotting wooden tables and chairs littered the floor, along with age-old barrels and wood mugs. The only open area was a streak along the floor, covered in dust that obscured the faint pattern in stone underneath. She grabbed a lantern, her mouth curling in disgust at the sticky cobwebs, and held it out to Cadarn.
"Fire, my friend. We'll need a light." He obliged, the light glowing purple. It was eerie, walking down the mead hall. She'd been here before as a little girl, to examine the relic with her father, but that was the only time. She was only here now because things had been happening, things that shouldn't be happening.
People were dying. Not only that, people were getting sick. Dragons were getting sick. The normal bounty from the livestock and ocean was dwindling. Her people, her dragons, their bounty; they never faulted. They never died; at least not until thrice the normal human lifetime.
She held the light aloft as she approached the back of the hall, illuminating stairs that delved deeper into the earth. Cardarn purred a soft note, forging ahead, and Toi took up the rear, watching the swinging tail of her dragon. The stairs curled in a thick spiral, and she quickly grew dizzy as they twirled around and around, until finally they emerged into a dank landing. It smelled of rot, of decay, and the musk of many, many years. The air thick with dust, she held her sleeve to her mouth as they forged forward.
The relic was housed in a vault, and the vault was situated in a sarcophagus of sorts, which sat alongside the far wall. It loomed into her vision, and she stared at it for a moment. You weren't supposed to be here. There was a reason people didn't just come visit the thing. There was a reason this mead hall was long abandoned. She swallowed, Cadarn looking at her with somber, glowing-green eyes.
"Help me open it, will ye?" She breathed, coughing as she set down the lantern on the stone floor. Violet light fanned out along the walls. Cadarn and Toi heaved on one side of the massive stone lid, and it fell with a crash to the floor. Toi jumped; the silence had been deafening.
Inside, the vault lie. It was a small metal box with intricate designs patterning its surface. In the fine light, she couldn't make out what they were, but knew from memory they were carvings of her people discovering the relic, and what it did for them. She opened the box with trembling hands, expected to see the brilliant amber glow that pulsated, waved, and danced before your eyes.
Except nothing happened. The relic lay still and dead at the bottom of the box, a small, rather bland stone, in the shape of an oak leaf. She picked it up with trembling hands. It normally felt warm to the touch. She remembered that. Her father had shown her, let her hold it over his own hands.
"This keepsake keeps us safe. It keeps us strong. Ye' gotta remember to keep it safe."
It was gone. The life-giving glow, empty. Cadarn looked at her, his expression grim, ears flat against his back. She closed it in her fist, and opened it. Still nothing.
"No no no!"
"Cadarn, this is why people are dying! This is why things are going so bad! What are we to do?" Her dragon cocked his head, his expression unchanging. Suddenly, he swiveled around, his ears up, quivering, listening.
"Whaddya' hear, ol' friend?" She closed the relic in her fist, crossing the short distance to her dragon, listening.
Soft, rhythmic footfalls of a man, and the four padded footfalls of a dragon.
"Och, he's found us. The cad." She placed the relic back into the vault. Despite it being by all accounts "dead" she couldn't bring herself to remove it from its safe place. Cadarn shook his head, his tail swishing against the ground in soft, slow waves.
"Toi? I know you're down there! Ya' know we're not supposed te' be in here!" She rolled her eyes. His voice was muffled from their depth, but clear. Her husband had the loudest voice in the village, perhaps the whole world. It could carry anywhere.
"Fergus, ya oaf, I'm allowed to come here when I please."
"Not without lettin' someone know." He voice was growing closer. Despite the nervous lump her stomach, the despair rooting in her heart, she wanted to see him. He always calmed her down. He emerged, carrying his own violet lantern and following by his own Nightfury, Roy.
"Toireann…what is it?" Fergus, a large man covered in freckles and black hair crossed the distance between them in 3 lengths, embracing her. He smelled of rain and earth, and she fought against tears.
"You know that something is wrong. We all do. With mam dying, n all." Fergus shook his head.
"It was just her time. We don't live forever."
"Damnit Ferg, it wasn't her time. Tell that to Cameron, or Rhona. Tell them it was their pa's time." He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't.
"It's not only the deaths. It the sickness. We don't get sick, love. Our dragons don't get sick." She ran a hand over Cadarns dry scales.
"I had this feeling in me' gut that something had happened to the stone, and I…had to see for myself."
"And?" He sucked in a breath. For answer, she lifted the box to his eyes.
"It's dead, Fergus. It's gone."