Darien opened her eyes. A dream, she thought. Just a dream.

She rubbed her face and groaned, slowly turning to her side. It took but a moment for her to realize that she wasn't in her own home, and with that came a flood of memories. She sat up and looked around the room. Darien instantly recognized the ocean tapestry on the far wall. So she was in Chief Adaro's house. There were townsfolk lying among the floor, faces she knew, some groaning and others still. She smelled the bitter tang of greenwarsh and other medicinal herbs.

Darien took a deep breath and looked down at her chest. The front of her tunic was torn and brittle, stained with so much red she couldn't believe it. A vertical scar ran down her chest, from beneath her throat to the bottom of her ribs. It was quite obvious, but appeared aged, not something that she had received just…that day?

She placed her right hand over her chest. It suddenly felt hot.

If you would face me….

Darien jumped and looked about the room. The voice was deep and throaty. Familiar. She was breathed heavily, and felt a bead of sweat run down her back. Slowly, she returned her hand to her chest.

Take up arms, newly Arisen.

Darien covered her mouth with her hand. It was quiet, save for the short, shallow breaths and mutters from her kin. Dusty light flitted through the open window. She let her hand fall into her lap and turned her eyes to the table near the room's entrance. A clean set of clothes hung off the edge. There was also a rustic sword propped against the wooden leg.

Darien stood, expecting a surge of pain. She straightened herself. Aside from the scar on her chest, she hardly felt any different. She and dressed quickly in the clean garb. The sword came next, which she strapped to her waist. There was also a shield that lay flat beneath the table, which she helped herself to. Chief Adaro wouldn't mind if she took these; he was the one who taught her swordsmanship. Darien didn't quite know what she was doing, but Maker-be-damned if the dragon were to return and catch her unarmed.

She entered the hallway and paused upon seeing Adaro and Quina. The chief was a short old man with balding, grey hair and a short beard. His face was wrinkled, and his eyes were sunken. He was far from frail, however, with thick, muscled arms and a toned chest. Darien had grown up wanting to reach half the strength he supposedly had in his prime. She quietly slid back, just enough to be out of their sight.

"You say it's left a glowing scar?" the chief said.

"Yes," Quina replied. "The wound has closed, and it seems the worst has passed, but…"

Darien glanced around the corner.

Quina placed her hands on her chest. "Her heart lies silent!"

Darien looked down and mimicked her friend's gesture. The same heat from before grew in her.

If you would face me…

"You're sure o' this?" Adaro said, and Darien looked back toward them.

"Yes…"

"Ill magick...The work of some curse!" His voice raised. "The whole world's already gone mad for fear o' this dragon…"

The chief looked at Quina who down-casted her eyes. "Won't no good come o' this." he said.

Darien looked down and leaned her shoulder against the wall. It was quiet, and she could picture Quina's concerned face without seeing it.

"I must go see to the others, Quina." Adaro said. "Tell me if aught changes here."

She nodded. "Alright."

Chief Adaro turned and opened the front door, letting in the light for a moment before he closed it behind him. Darien came around the corner and waited for Quina to turn around. She jumped and covered her mouth with both hands, as if equally surprised as Darien was about her survival.

Darien finally said, "I'm alive." and made her best attempt as a smile.

Quina came close and they hugged. Darien patted her on the back before they parted and said, "How long 'ave I been asleep?"

"Almost a full day," she said, and looked down at her sword. "Are you leaving? But you've only just woken up."

Darien scratched the back of her head. "I'm not…sure. I feel restless. A tad bit numb, but otherwise I have never felt better."

Quina didn't seem convinced. "You should be resting. I worry for you, Cos."

"I know." Darien said. "But I feel fine. I promise."

She walked past her friend and added, "I'm going to see if anyone needs help with anything."

Darien stepped out of the chief's house and scanned the town. She heard the gull's squawks overhead and the soft pulses of the ocean's tides against the shore. The inhabitant's voices reached Darien's ears as well. There was a lights breeze that moved the fabric she wore. From where she stood, she saw the beach where the remnants of a boat hung on the sand and the docks where other watercrafts lay afloat.

Darien thought that it hardly looked like a dragon had attacked. She jogged down the steps and passed her home. At least that was undamaged. The ruined building had always been across her home, but now it was being used as a medical center. A handful of people lay on their backs or sides. One man sat crossed legged, back against the wall while an older woman in a dark grey vest and golden-tan skirt tended to him. She wore a brown cap on her dark hair. She lifted a cup to the man's lips and said something quietly to him.

"Benita," Darien said.

The woman turned and a wide smile spread across her face. "Ah, Minnow," she said. "It warms my heart to see you moving."

"You seem no worse for wear." She knelt beside the other. "Is there aught I can help with?"

"Actually…" Benita stood and walked over to the table, glancing over the clothes, herbs, and bandages. "I 'ave run out of sunbright to make a poultice. And I'll need moonglow as well."

"I can do that for you."

"Watch yourself," she said. "It will ill do me well if you hurt yourself."

Darien headed towards the gate, glancing down the streets. The people were obviously nervous and still in shock, but Cassardis was a strong town.

Chief Adaro stood beside the well, conversing with a soldier Darien was familiar with. She smoothed out her clothes and moved to approach them. She paused, eyes catching movement near the barn. The strange stone had always been there; a grey rock about the height of a full grown man, with a flat, smooth side covered in illegible symbols and words. But for the first time, the runes glowed blue.

Darien stopped and peered at it. A dark cloud materialized above the stone, appearing milky and faded like a drop of ink in water. The shadow of a human silhouette dropped from the mass. The darkness ebbed and a man stood. He had curly dark brown hair and a goatee, with pale skin and blue eyes. A faded green cloak hung around his shoulders and he wore brown trousers and boots.

The man's eyes instantly fell on Darien, a flash of surprise crossing his features before he straightened himself and raised his right hand. There was a glowing scar along the edge of his hand. Warmth blossomed in Darien's chest – physically, not emotionally. The sensation was similar to when the dragon spoke through her wound, but considerably less overwhelming. But it was no less outlandish.

The man approached her. Darien planted her feet and tightened her lips. What now?

"I am here to serve, Arisen." the man said.

Darien stared at him. A soft breeze moved past them and a gull called out somewhere from the air. Adaro had stopped talking to the soldier by the well and watched them.

"Best we stock up in curatives before we depart, Master." he said.

Darien didn't respond and kept looking up into the other's face.

"We'd best make haste if we are to save the wounded." he said flatly. "Sunbright only blooms in daylight, Master."

When Darien didn't reply, he said, "Shall we visit Aestella's for equipment?"

Darien grabbed the hilt of her sword and shouted, "Who are you?"

The man jumped, if only slightly. "Ah, I apologize, Arisen," He said, bowing. "This pawn is named Rook."

That explains naught. "Arisen," she said, testing the word. "Is that what you called me?"

"Yes."

"What do you want?"

"I am here to serve."

"Me?" He nodded and Darien asked, "Why?"

"Because you are Arisen.

Darien turned slowly and approached Adaro. She could hear Rook's footsteps behind her.

"That man you were speaking with," the chief said, "He's o' the pawn legion. They come from some unknown place. Just appear, without a warning. They're a strange lot."

Darien glanced back at Rook who stared back patiently.

"Not human, quite," Adaro continued, "They look the part sure enough, but they lack the will…the spark what drives us. They have no capacity to feel nor act alone, so they live as sellswords. Myrmidons, they're called."

Rook didn't seem to mind how the chief spoke of him. For the first time, Darien noticed the staff strapped to his back. It resembled one Quina had used before.

No will….Darien turned back to Adaro. "He called me…Arisen. And master."

"Curious," Adaro said. It was rare for Darien to see the chief uncertain about a matter. "There's an encampment west of the village where men gather to face the dragon. I'd wager a fair number of his kind will be there as well. Why don't you take him? Might be you learn aught o' why he came to you in the first place."

Darien frowned. "Take him?" She looked back at Rook. "Can I take you?"

"I shall follow wherever you go." he said.

I can't handle this right now. "I shall heed your wisdom, Chief," she said. "But first, I am to acquire ingredients for Benita. The wounded…"

"Of course. Do what needs be done." Adaro said, and patted her back. "Take care o' yourself, Minnow. I'd ask fewer heroics from you, and more care toward yourself."

Darien smiled assuredly, and exited the town with the pawn following close behind. At first she felt unease with the mage at her side, and found herself staring at him, only to glance away when he returned eye contact. He seemed quite eager to offer her his assistance, and was quick to point out the location of the plant they required. When she knelt to the ground to harvest the pink flowers, she pondered the nature of these myrmidons. These thoughts briefly took her attention away from the eerie silence in her chest and the encounter with the dragon, but only for a moment.

It was only when they had returned to Cassardis that Darien realized something. She wanted to know more. She felt an unfamiliar restlessness. Surely not a drive strong enough to consider facing the dragon; she had no delusions she stood a chance. Besides, if she still breathed without a heart, did she necessarily need it? Darien didn't know the answer. But she wanted to.

"Rook," she said, once she finished conversing with Benita. The pawn faced her quietly. "Will you escort me to the encampment?"

"I would be honored, Arisen." he said, not to her surprise.

From what the chief and pawn had explained about the encampment, it didn't seem like it'd take long to get there. Darien expected to get there, ask her questions, and return to Cassardis. She packed lightly and continued carrying her weapons. Goblins were a constant threat when traveling on the roads, but not one that garnered much concern for her. Adaro had trained her to face these beasts many a time. She considered speaking to Quina before departing, but decided against it. Darien needed out, if but for a day or two.

The sun hovered just past the center of the sky, telling Darien that it was past midday. She followed behind Rook. Sometimes the pawn quickened his pace, and Darien had to wonder if he was equally as eager as herself.

She nearly walked into her companion's back when he stopped. "What-"

"Help me!"

Darien pushed past the pawn and tensed. She spotted a man further down the road surrounded by goblins. She drew her sword and sprinted forward. The closest goblin was too occupied to sense her approach. Darien drew the blade down on its shoulder. It howled, and she wrenched the iron out of its corpse.

The goblins cursed at her – she assumed. The man scurried out of the circle and pressed his back against a tree trunk. Darien blocked against a club swung at her, bracing her feet against the impact.

"Tis weak to fire!" Rook shouted.

Darien jumped back and a volley of fireballs shot past her. She felt the heat, but was otherwise unscathed. She watched a burning goblin run past her, howling bloody murder. The scent was fowl.

"That was incredible, Rook," she said, sheathing her sword.

The pawn's face was as straight and blank as before, but Darien could have sworn his eyes looked…pleased?

"Quite the fighter, eh?" the man shouted. Darien had almost forgotten he was there.

He stood and brushed dirt of his red trousers. She assumed he was a merchant, although his wares were all but destroyed and lay scattered about the path. He had a black cowlick cut, with stubble around his jaw. His dark vest was unbuttoned and over a white, belted tunic.

"That was far too close," he said, "I'm called Reynard. A traveling salesman, though those damnable beasts ruined my wares…But thanks to you, it was only my wares that were lost."

"I am happy to help." Darien said, stepping over a goblin corpse to near him. "It's quite unusual for their kind to attack travelers on the road."

"Aye, although, there have been more of their like since the dragon."

Darien looked at him. "For truth?"

"The dragon brings with it more monsters than usual," Rook said. "Best we assume danger lurks around every corner."

Darien turned toward the pawn and frowned.

Reynard laughed. "Your companion is correct. The beasts have gotten bolder of late." He leaned over and swept up a trampled piece of material, which he unraveled and shook out. "Here. Pray, take this as a sign of my gratitude."

The merchant draped the leather cape over Darien's shoulder and pinned it together with a round grey clasp. She pinched the corner and looked down at it before letting it fall back against her.

"You have my thanks." she said and realized that the merchant had already departed with a soft jog toward Cassardis.

Darien looked at Rook and shrugged. The rest of their short journey to the encampment was uneventful, and in less than an hour, she sighted the wooden fort before her. When she was young, she was told that this place had once been a thriving settlement. She didn't know what caused the change, but now it was an encampment for soldiers stationed to defend Cassardis. The townsfolk had been delivered supplies there many times before, but never had she actually entered.

The gate to the encampment was open. Soldiers hurriedly marched about, and Darien wondered if they were tense from the dragon attack. A guard watched them approached, but didn't move to question or hinder them. Tents stood along fort's walls where soldiers walked about. There were others as well, warriors who wore no uniform, and watched the commotion silently.

Well met, Arisen.

Darien turned her head right, then left. "What-"

Can you hear our voice?

She slowly turned 360 degrees. "Rook, pray tell me I'm not going mad. Do you hear that?"

"We are near a riftstone," the pawn said, "if memory serves."

Before Darien could remind him to elaborate, he took off running up the makeshift steps into next area of the encampment.

"I know the way, Master. Follow me."

She sighed, and ran after him. He stopped before a wide tent. It was similar to the other shelters set about the camp, with the Duke's banner hung centered above the entrance. Two tall torches sat on each side and along the inside were barrels and wooden shelves containing supplies and the like. However, once inside Darien immediately noticed the riftstone upon a low platform. Unlike the one in Cassardis, this one seemed taken care of. It looked polished, and sat before a regal banner lighted by standing candles.

Darien walked past a knelt soldier next to the shelves and the man who stared at her from behind a table. This riftstone had a wide room to itself. Rook stopped before the short steps up to the platform. Darien approached the stone.

Well met, Arisen. Can you hear our voice?

Darien took a deep breath. A talking rock. "Yes."

We speak to you from across a great distance. The pawn legion has awaited you.

The voice was that of a man's, with a distance and echo. Even so, Darien could hear the voice clearly, as if this speaker stood before her…where the stone was.

Pray, forgive this strange and impersonal greeting. This rift serves as a gate. It connects our kind to your world. It opens to the Arisen, for they possess a will powerful enough to guide the legion.

Darien shifted her weight to her left foot and let her eyes wander the smooth and glowing surface of the stone.

If you would claim to be among the Arisen, prove the strength of your resolve.

What? Darien thought. She had never claimed to be this "Arisen." She looked back at Rook and then returned her eyes forward when she realized that he wasn't going to contribute any useful thought.

Darien went with the first thing on her mind. "What must I do?"

There was the briefest of pauses before the voice spoke. We shall guide you in your trial. If you are an Arisen in truth, this humble task will prove no obstacle. The Arisen must possess the valor to stand against all threats, and the power to quell them. A tireless spirit of self-improvement grants the strength to lead the legion. Pray, show it now.

Darien waited. She raised her eyebrows. "What?" she asked. There was no reply. "Hello?" She turned around. "Rook?"

The pawn shook his head. He was just as useful as the demanding magical rock. Before she could protest, she heard shouting from outside. Darien ran out of the tent and watched a handful of soldiers run by.

"The beast comes! Hurry!" someone yelled.

Rook took to her side. "There may be prowling monsters about." he said.

"Let's see for ourselves." she said, sprinting toward the gate.

They exited the opposite end of the encampment. Two soldiers were spinning the wheel that lowered the gate. Darien passed underneath before it closed, ignoring the warnings called out behind her. The mage was beside her, and she was momentarily relieved. She stood upright and froze.

There was a bloody cyclops there. It was on its hands and knees, but was nothing less than a grey hulk. It had thick arms and legs, with a stomach marked by scars and stains. A company of goblins surrounded the monster, clumsily fighting the soldiers. Darien pulled out her sword and lifted her shield as the cyclops drew itself up. One of its ivory tusks had been broken off, and lay dismantled at its stubby toes. The one eye was wide and wild.

The cyclops threw out its left arm, throwing a soldier over their heads to slam against the wooden walls. No way. Darien felt the silence in her chest strange. It gave her an uncanny sense of calm. She reminded herself: I charged a dragon.

Darien dashed forward, swinging her blade at a goblin. She spun her sword free and knocked another down with a thrust of her shield. The smaller creature was felled by a brief burst of flame from the mage. Good man, she thought.

The cyclops reached down – for her or someone else, Darien didn't know. She fell back on her side, the momentum sliding her forward and beneath the monster's grip. Her sword left a scratch on the mighty hand. She ran beneath the legs of the cylops and spun her blade. The damage was apparent, but slight. To her sides, soldiers battled the goblins. She kept her focus on the big one; the men were trained, and should have been able to handle the creatures.

"Arisen!" Rook shouted, felling a goblin with a swing of his staff. "The eye!"

Darian looked up. Yes...She faced the cyclops's back, and scanned the bumpy and calloused skin of the beast. This is madness, but alright.

Darien ran forward and jumped on the back leg. Her fingers easily found the nooks of the monster's skin and she pulled herself up. The cyclops swung back and forth, but she held on for dear life. It felt like eternity before she found herself clinging to the neck. She was high up, gripping the monster's right shoulder.

Darien looked down into the face of a soldier. She was confused. The man's eyes were wide and his cheeks wet with sweat or tears. The cyclops held him in its grip and slowly raised him to its face. The soldier screamed.

"ROOK!" Darien cried. She held tight with her left hand, and gripped her sword with the other, She brought it down into the skin as hard as she could. The cyclops dropped its shoulder, almost throwing Darien off if not for her grip on the sword speared into the beast. Her shield was sent flying to the earth below. A trio of fireballs collided against the massive hand and the man fell from the monster's hold. She didn't have time to check on the soldier as she gripped the sword's hilt with both hands.

A shadow passed over her. The cyclops was attempting to grab her.

"Tis weak to ice and fire alike!"

Rook. Darien gritted her teeth as the beast staggered. It was tripping over itself, one foot scarred and bit by a frost that crept up its leg. The monster tilted forward. Darien grunted as she pulled the tip of the sword out of the skin. She jumped forward, feet landing on the remaining tusk of the beast. She looked upward into the cyclops eye. The large, dark pupil darted straight at her.

Darien jumped and pulled herself up with her left arm. She braced herself and plunged her sword into the gaping eye. The cyclops's roar overpowered Darien's scream. It dropped to its knees. The force wrenched Darien's grip and she fell backwards away from the head. She grunted as she dropped onto something…someone. She rolled out of the arms of Rook and off of a soldier's torso. He seemed equally as surprised as she felt.

Darien turned to see the cyclops fall forward onto its stomach, head on its side and face titled towards them. It breathed quickly and shallowly. Her own was similar, even without a heartbeat. Rook placed his hand on her shoulder. She didn't notice the scratch along her chin cease bleeding, or the dark bruise of the shield's handle on her left arm lighten from dark purple to light brown.

The cyclops let out a long sigh. Its eyelid shut halfway on the reddened eye, and the pupil dilated. In moments, it lay still and silent. A red, winding sigil briefly glowed on the monster's forehead before it faded.

Rook was speaking. Darien felt herself hoisted up to her feet and her face close to a smiling soldier who patted her shoulders. A few men cheered. Others groaned or kept silent.

Darien shook her head and looked at the pawn. "Does this count?"

Rook nodded. "I believe so, Master."

I realized shortly after writing this that I may have exaggerated the first boss fight :D. But it was really fun to write. This chapter is also considerably longer than the first one. If anyone wants them to be shorter, let me know.