Stillsnow erupted into quiet chaos in the night. The patrons that escaped the Parlor quickly ran for their rooms and tried to hail any carriage they could get that would leave town at such an ungodly hour. The scramble leaves the innkeeper utterly speechless as his rooms are all suddenly vacant save for a handful of stragglers...
Kalv goes to find those who have loose lips on the event. He begins grilling a few well-to-do fellows who tell him all about the horrible service and treatment the Obsidians put them through, including leaving them to traipse the snows themselves when the fire in the Parlor was announced.
"The gall! We're their valued patrons! And they hadn't even the brains to care for my poor, sodden feet!"
"Not to mention no warning ahead of time! I was still only half done with my whore in my room!"
"I see, I see..."
While Kalv's attention is taken, Ashlan hurries out to Ophilia, Jura, Cyrus, Alfyn, and Tressa. The hunter opens the door for them at the river house. Ogen had already found himself a handsomely paying gig by some fleeing patron and left.
"Dear gods," Ashlan bites back a gasp when he sees the merchant girl in Alfyn's arms, "Whatever happened in that Parlor?"
"Rather unpleasant things, I'm afraid..." Cyrus looks to Alfyn, "My good man, will Tressa be alright? Oh, not to mention your shoulder!"
"You betcha! Don't worry about it!" Alfyn gives him a smile to hide the fatigue of being shot at and running through the Parlor and the snows, "Lia, think you can help me upstairs...? We'll look at Jura's leg, too..."
Ophilia nods. The two healers retreat upstairs, also finding Arianna there, much to Ophilia's relief.
"Ophilia!" Arianna scrambles to stand and greet her and then seems to be looking for an additional person that isn't there, "You're alright! Wait, where's..."
"In a minute, Arianna... I'm afraid we have injured..." Ophilia goes to help Jura sit by the hearth. She quietly says a prayer in thanks that Ashlan had prepared the fire beforehand. She goes to make sure the window is open so the smoke can vent out.
The apothecary meanwhile lays Tressa down on some unused rags that Arianna helps find for him. He's careful with Tressa's head. Arianna winces a little, seeing Tressa's bloody face.
"Gods... What happened...?"
"There was an unfortunate amount of violence..." Ophilia says softly.
Alfyn looks to Ophilia, "Lia, get me a bucket of water. And a bucket of snow."
"R-right!" The cleric hurries to fulfill his orders.
"Are you alright...?" Arianna asks tentatively and points at the bolt stuck in Alfyn, "Your shoulder..."
"S'fine, jus' a scratch!" Alfyn gives a jolly grin void of pain, "I gotta focus on Tress... and then I'll look over everyone else!"
Arianna blinks. She remembered he had graciously treated her cough earlier.
"I don't have any essence of grape on me..." Alfyn mumbles to himself as he inspects Tressa over.
"M-maybe the old woman in town... Susanna has some?" Arianna asks meekly.
"Susanna... yer right! She's a great medicine lady!" Afyn seems to perk up at her reminder, "She might have some grape essence! That'd fix Tressa right up!"
"I-I'll go see if I can fetch her..." Arianna nods, "She's known to be rather inhospitable..."
"Take Cy with ya," Alfyn advises, "Alaic knows his face."
...
The tail end of those fleeing the manor include the party of the playwright, the warrior, the thief, and the dancer. Simeon has Primrose in his arms as he arrives, breathless, at the town perimeter alongside Olberic supporting Therion. Despite all the fighting, Olberic seems still steady of foot as he looks around their immediate surroundings.
They had luckily traversed the forest without running afoul of any beasts or Obsidians, though they did see the destruction that those before them had wrought. The east edge of town has trampled snow, though the crowds have since dissipated. Therion points tiredly to the house by the river, one of the closer abodes.
Some straggling onlookers furtively glance as the four of them make their way to where the whores live. They seem to be locals and quickly go back to minding their own business, perhaps going back to get a night's sleep. Outside the house, Simeon sees a few other women standing about. They must have been Parlor workers, perhaps...
"Are we to go in..." Olberic asks the thief as they approach.
"..." Therion nods silently, "The others are ... probably either here or at that old hag's place..."
Two women standing by the doors and covered in blankets give the men weird looks as they pass through. Inside, the other Parlor workers seem to be taking a breather after such a hectic night. There are whispers as they discuss leaving and finding new jobs, as well as overall disbelief over the happening. There's about four women here at the first floor, with some sitting around on the mats that were previously propped up to walk around. A man with a green cape is helping tend to the fire.
"Olberic? Therion!" Ophilia comes from upstairs and seems overjoyed to see the group, "Come, bring everyone upstairs...!"
Upstairs, Alfyn is treating several people for injuries following the exodus from the Parlor. Tressa is sleeping quietly on one of the sofas. Some other people, like Jura, have their injury treated and are resting. Alfyn is currently helping a woman with a twisted arm. His entire sleeve is soaked in blood where the bolt remains.
"Alfyn!" Olberic's eyebrows arch up, "You're wounded!"
"Tsk..." Therion pulls off Olberic.
"Hm? Ah, hey guys!" Alfyn looks up with a tired smile as he cinches the woman's arm in a bound cast, "You're alright! Thank the gods..."
"What happened to your arm?" Therion growls.
"Huh? Oh, can't worry about that now... Therion, yer bleeding!" Alfyn now turns his attentions to the thief.
"Where's Cyrus?" Olberic looks to Ophilia.
"Ah, the professor left with Arianna to Susanna's not long ago to get more supplies..."
"It seems to be a wise move..." Simeon sighs as he lays Primrose down by the wall, "We have a good amount of injured here."
The dancer had passed out in his arms, being unresponsive as he gently lays her down. Her skin is cold, but Simeon's hands are also frozen numb at this point so he can't tell.
"What a mess this evening turned out to be..." Olberic sighs, "I shall help however I can. Do we need anything?"
"I'll need you to sit down so I can look you and Therion over!" Alfyn says persistently.
...
Susanna is none too surprised at the knock at her door, considering she had seen the fires across the bridge at the southern side of town. Truth be told, she should be asleep. However, her intuition was keeping her awake tonight. It felt like something bad was happening.
Alaic sits up abruptly from where he rests on her couch and narrows his eyes at the door. Susanna shuffles down from her bedroom upstairs to see him standing like a wall at the door with a candle in hand.
"Lady Susanna?" A familiar scholar's voice can be heard calling from outside.
"..." Alaic glances to Susanna.
"Oh, for gods' sakes, Alaic, let them in," Susanna sighs.
Alaic reluctantly unlocks and opens the door. Cyrus and Arianna are greeted by the sight of the tall man at the doorway. Arianna sort of shrinks back from that imposing frame.
"Ah, sir Alaic!" Cyrus says, not intimidated at all, "Thank the gods! I apologize for imposing this late in the night, but I'm afraid we need some aid urgently..."
"What's happened over there?" Susanna hobbles over, "Don't tell me that you all had done something to the Parlor? Half the town seems to be awake."
"Erm... precisely that, I'm afraid," Cyrus chuckles nervously.
"The apothecary... He needs some medicine... we have injured people at the house by the river..." Arianna speaks up meekly.
"... A thorough mess indeed..." Susanna sighs.
As if to add onto her statement, there is a distant and unearthly howl that echoes from the direction of the Whitewood behind her house. Susanna grips her staff tightly.
"... W... Wolves?" Arianna clutches her shawl about herself, "No... they don't sound like that around here..."
"I don't recognize that call, I'm afraid..." Cyrus glances up.
"Can the injured be moved here?" Susanna speaks gruffly, "I'd rather not have to leave my home at this hour."
"Tressa seemed badly off..." Cyrus says apprehensively.
"... What medicines do you need, then," Susanna sighs, "If they are well enough, it would be best you bring them here. That house for the hens is already a bit ramshackle as it is."
"Alfyn said he needed essence of grape..." Arianna answers, taking the henhouse comment silently.
Susanna shuffles to her drawers and pulls out some satchels before handing them over to Cyrus and Arianna, "Take these. They ought to still be potent. I assume that apothecary can use them, if he's worth any salt."
"Aye, that I have no doubt..." Cyrus nods, "We best leave you to your evening rest then..."
"Thank you so much for your help..." Arianna says profusely. She hadn't expected anything at all from the so-called "witch" of Stillsnow.
"Hmf! As if you hadn't roused the neighbors! Hurry back, you, before lives are lost," Susanna shoos them away now.
Alaic closes the door once Arianna and Cyrus leave their doorstep. The mercenary glances to see Susanna sitting down on the couch, not returning to her bedroom. The old woman has an apprehensive expression on her face.
"... That roar just now... Do you think it was where she is fighting?" Alaic asks.
"That eager child... She has some of Z'aanta's foolishness in her," Susanna says ruefully.
...
Arianna and Cyrus join back with the rest of the group, now all reunited within the house by the river. Most of Arianna's co-workers are all taking a much-needed rest after a night of that excitement. The party sequesters themselves in the upstairs level, though some of Alfyn's treated patients also remain resting there in makeshift cots.
"And pull it real tight, you got it?" Alfyn is advising Ophilia on treating his shoulder wound at last once he's satisfied looking over everyone else. The apothecary is a bit pale and sweating, but still bears his energetic grin.
"A-alright, here goes...!" Ophilia yanks hard on the binding to cinch the wound after the bolt had been removed and the area was cleaned.
"Erk-! T-that's good...!" Alfyn winces.
Ophilia sighs and applies a touch of her magic onto the binding, "Alfyn, you should lay down now. You've treated everyone already..."
Tressa's head is bound and she seems to be in less pain after Alfyn applied a salve with the essence of grape from Susanna. The merchant girl miraculously suffered no broken bones from Rufus' attack.
Jura and another dancer wounded in the fleeing of the Parlor luckily sustained only sprained ligaments that would heal with time. Alfyn had also applied some numbing herbs onto the joints so they would not be too painful.
Primrose's broken arm had to be set and wrapped in a splint. She also had some heavy bruising where Rufus had hit her, and minor cuts from the blades of the associates. Alfyn was most alarmed by her "birthmark," which now looks like a black mass spreading across her collarbone. However, the apothecary keeps it quiet and just makes sure to cover her with a blanket as she sleeps a bit fitfully.
Therion had a broken rib, so Alfyn bound his chest as usual and forces him to lay down. The thief grumbles and eventually does as he's told. Olberic amazingly has little injury despite having battled the Obsidians head-on from the start. He has minor grazes and bruising, but those are easily treatable. The big lug is fast asleep now, perhaps from the fatigue following combat.
Cyrus and Simeon are relatively unscathed. Cyrus himself is amazed at how well he performed at the Parlor with his magic.
"I must say... since Stonegard, I've been feeling a rather strong swell of magic. I had always been proficient with casting but the drain was... so insignificant this time!" The scholar whispers to himself excitedly as he recounts the combat of the night, "I must have performed no less than ten incantations... and not even a bit of a headache!"
"That is fortunate, scholar," Simeon sighs tiredly, "I only wish I had half your competence in battle... Unfortunately, the most I could do was evade like a deer being hunted."
"You did great, Simeon! Ow-" Alfyn winces as Ophilia forces him to lay down on another makeshift cot on the floor.
"Well, we ought to get some rest, then..." Simeon sighs and glances to Primrose, "It has been a rather long night and... we still have concerns to address tomorrow."
"I do not believe we are... going to be in any state able to leave Stillsnow with the sight of these injuries either," Cyrus thinks a moment.
"... Ah, Cyrus!" Ophilia realizes, "Did you see H'aanit at Susanna's? Is she still not back?"
"Oh! Er, I'm afraid not... I saw no candle light at Susanna's so I must have woken her... but I had not glimpsed H'aanit at all..." Cyrus realizes.
"... I... I'm worried..." Ophilia whispers under her breath a bit, "What if H'aanit's gotten hurt? At this point, it has been the whole night and..."
In the quiet lull of this night, a distant roar sounds again as if from another world. It sounds distant and forlorn.
"..." Ophilia goes to go downstairs.
"W-wait, Ophilia!" Cyrus goes to follow her, certainly not tired.
Alfyn looks up as well. Therion, laying nearby, presses a hard hand on the apothecary to keep him down.
"Yeep!" Alfyn squeaks.
"Don't even think about it," The thief grumbles.
"But-!" Alfyn protests, "Cy and Lia can't just go out there by themselves!"
"Just shut up and rest," Therion sighs.
"I must agree with Sir Therion," Simeon whispers over, "Your arm and the blood loss serve as a cause for concern, sir Alfyn..."
The playwright glances around at the others all more or less asleep on this floor. He hesitantly approaches where Olberic is leaned against the wall, holding his weapons. Simeon gently taps his shoulder. Despite how fast he fell asleep, Olberic immediately opens his eyes.
"Ah, s-sorry to disturb you, sir Olberic..."
"Mm... It is alright. I am used to only half-nights of sleep on patrol," Olberic blinks a few times, "What is it?"
"I'm afraid lady H'aanit never returned to lady Susanna's ... Lady Ophilia is worried and she has left to..."
Simeon doesn't even finish before Olberic stands with a grunt. He slings on his belongings, "Very well. Susanna's you said, correct?"
"Yes."
The warrior nods and goes downstairs without so much as a lumber in his steady gait.
"... See," Therion grunts at Alfyn, "So just rest, idiot."
Alfyn grumbles a bit, "I just hope they're gonna be okay..."
...
Blood stains the snow where it has not been disturbed, which is few a place on the raging battleground. The earth has been torn up and exposed in several swaths.
The lone huntress pants, her breath coming out white and rushed. She is down on one knee amid the destruction wrought onto the field around her. Blood runs down some scratches and bruises on her person, and the signs of scuffle are apparent. Sweat despite the weather runs down her face. Her defiant green eyes remain fixated on that small patch of flowers. Those remain miraculously untouched despite the fighting, save a few scattered petals from the dragon's occasional wingbeats.
"Ngh..." H'aanit pants, keeping a tight hold on her bow. Her arrows litter the battlefield, with a few having struck and stayed in the massive dragon. Yet, such small arrows will not fell a beast alone.
Nearby, Linde has blood matting her fur. The leopard stands as staunchly as usual despite any injury. Her paws are stained red from her repeated strikes against the dragon's hard scales. Yet, she is unyielding alongside her partner.
The dragon growls before them, eyes glimmering with something not quite like malice. Wounds not only from arrows and claws, but also the huntress' axe, have managed to dent its scales and pierce its flesh. And yet it is also painfully clear that the beast is far from defeated.
"HRAAAAAGH!"
"It comen!" H'aanit warns.
She and Linde both split to avoid the dragon's claw attack as it lunges forward. Yet another tract of earth is torn up in its rage.
The way this beast moves is as if enraged. In some ways, that is both a blessing and a curse to a hunter. A maddened beast does not register pain nor fear. It has decreased coordination, however, as well. She needs to use that to her advantage.
"Hoaaah!" H'aanit makes a charge for the dragon's hind leg. She aims as she slides under and jabs an arrow into the dragon's underside, where the scales are softer. As the beast bellows and thrashes, she recoups some arrows that had fallen into the snows, as her quiver is running low.
"Raargh!" Linde pounces at the dragon's neck in a daring maneuver to reach its head.
When the dragon reaches a claw up to pick the leopard off, H'aanit makes another swipe at it with her axe on its raised arm.
"Graah...!" The dragon seems to almost grimace before it lets out yet another bone-rattling bellow. Its wings spread wide and an immense pressure can be felt, as if it were projecting its aura.
"Gh-" H'aanit wills her legs to maintain standing and nocks another arrow. She waits for the wind to stop just for a second... and lets it loose.
The true shot flies and lodges itself right in her target: the dragon's eye.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
A roar of pain tears from the dragon's throat as it now begins to fling its neck and head around. Linde has to hop off from hanging for dear life. The leopard lands only to be swatted by the dragon's flailing tail, as it now seems incredibly aggravated from being blinded. Linde lands somewhere among the trees far in the fringe.
"Linde!" H'aanit cries out in fear. Had she miscalculated?
The dragon seems to have renewed fury at being struck in its eye. It violently thrashes about now. Tail, wings, and claws whip up snow and tear up earth. H'aanit narrowly dodges a claw only to have a wingbeat bat her right into a snow-covered rock.
"UGH!" She coughs, blood staining her furs.
She had underestimated the beast's madness and vitality... Striking its eye only rendered it more restless.
Before she can regather herself, she finds herself suddenly pierced from the sides as the dragon's massive jaw clamps down on her and the rock behind her.
"NGAH-?!" She hadn't expected it to try biting and squirms in its jaws as it tries to crush her with the rock. Each of those sharp teeth are like a knife's length driving into her flesh. She can taste her own blood as the beast's jaws refuse to open.
It's hard to breath. She can't be sure how injured she is at this point... But it's bad.
"Ukh- Huff..." Through her pain-tinged vision, she sees her arrow lodged in that dragon's eye nearby. Out of desperation, she pulls at the shaft, releasing the entire thing amid a spurt of dragon's blood.
That does it and the dragon lets out another ear-splitting roar, dropping her into the snow. She can barely move and tries to get onto her elbows to gather her bearings. She can see the herb-of-grace right there...
"Unh..." She coughs, weakly crawling through the snow.
The dragon's massive claw slams down before her. Its imposing form stands before her, half-blind. Ragged breath, threaded with malice, issues from its maw as it drips blood and saliva down its face.
"... I ... musten... the herb..." H'aanit struggles to get up.
"Grrrrr..."
"Doen not... standen in my way...!" H'aanit coughs and staggers despite the helpless situation.
It is a last-ditch effort on her part. To try and tame a beast she knew almost nothing of and could not defeat. She grasps hard on the arrow stained in dragon's blood and calls upon the hunter's lore... and anything else she could think of.
Calling a beast's voice requires understanding of it. Taking on its state of mind lends you its temperament and power... But she had never attempted it to this degree.
It was crossing something forbidden, perhaps... Like in the Darkwood legends of a banished sister clan... But she could not care about that now! Not when Z'aanta needs her!
Fury swarms her senses. Pain that drives one to madness... loneliness that drives one to sorrow... an accursed swell of emotions threatens to consume her as her vision begins to turn red.
Control it... She must control...
"LETTEN ME PASS!" The huntress bellows. A roar tears from her chest, one that is frighteningly familiar.
A great chill blasts through the Whitewood.
...
Olberic is surprised to see the man in green following Ophilia and Cyrus as well when he catches up with them before Susanna's home. The lights strangely are still lit this time.
"Ah, sir Olberic!" Cyrus' eyebrows arch up in surprise, "Were you not resting?"
"It would put me more at ease if you both had proper guardians..." Olberic glances to the young man in green, "... Hail."
"Uh, hail," The man raises a hand awkwardly, "I'm Ashlan. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Hm, you can call me Olberic," Olberic nods, "How have you come to accompany Ophilia and Cyrus?"
"Ah, Ashlan helped save Arianna back at the Parlor!" Ophilia chimes in, "He saw me heading out and wanted to come along!"
"Well, I just don't think it's very safe at this hour..."
"Hmm... I will accompany nonetheless then. It would be better with four," Olberic extends a hand to Ashlan, "Pleased to have you."
"Thanks," Ashlan gives his hand a firm shake, "Now what's this I hear about the Whitewood?"
"Our companion, Lady H'aanit, had gone into the Whitewood in search of something... and I'm afraid she's yet to return," Cyrus sighs, "Given what dangers could lie in such a place... we worry for her."
Ophilia knocks on the door of the seer. For the second time that night, Alaic opens the door and looks down with steely eyes at the ones intruding on his sleep.
"... Again?" The bodyguard asks with gruff impatience. His eyes are on Cyrus.
"Hail."
"Alaic, it's urgent. H'aanit hasn't come back...!" Ophilia says with worried eyes, "We want to go find her... Can you take us to the Whitewood?"
"It is late. The woods will be more dangerous," Alaic furrows his brow, "In the morning, maybe."
"But what if-!"
"If they want to rush in, then let them," Susanna can be heard saying, "There is a strange sound in the night ... It has been calling out from the Whitewood. For what and from whom I can only guess."
"Ah, yes, there was a strange call from earlier... not like that of a wolf but..." Cyrus starts.
"What if that was Linde?" Ophilia jumps to conclusions.
Alaic glances to Susanna, "But the trail..."
"They will find their way, I'm sure... After all, they have another hunter with them, don't they?" Susanna says.
Ophilia looks to Ashlan. Ashlan blinks and points to himself in confusion.
"... I won't leave Susanna at this hour," Alaic steps out from the doorframe to point in a direction north, out of town, "Follow the trail and cross the old bridge. Go straight. You'll find a trail into the Whitewood and its sanctum where the trees cluster yet let way. Do not bother looking for tracks. There will be none."
"How mysterious..." Cyrus rubs his chin.
"Alaic, give her clothes back to her, and the lanthorn," Susanna calls over, "She will need these back."
"Ah, I... I suppose I should change..." Ophilia realizes she's still in her dancer's garb.
Alaic stands aside so the cleric can go in and change. It only takes a few minutes before she comes back out in her original cleric garb, with the lanthorn blazing at her side. Ashlan blinks.
"Oh, so that's how you..." The hunter looks her up and down.
"Hm?" Ophilia looks at him quizzically.
"Nothing, never mind..."
"Ah, okay... Thank you, Alaic... Thank you as well, Susanna," Ophilia calls into the house before looking to the others, "Alright, let's go!"
Alaic watches as they run off. The bodyguard silently returns inside the house, shutting the door. He looks to the old woman who has yet to go back to sleep. Before her is a cup of lukewarm tea. The dress she'd lent Ophilia is slung over the back of one of the chairs around her coffee table.
"Those roars... had never been so loud..." Susanna says softly, "Now I can hear it... the sorrow of the beast. It is wounded... and it doesn't want to die alone."
...
Ashlan has eyes for natural oddities that help them easier find the trail Alaic had mentioned. They come upon the trail and notice there are indeed no tracks in the snow, as if no one had ever trod here. The hunter takes the lead, with Ophilia using her staff as their light source.
"I'm usually better in forest settings, coming from the Woodlands," Ashlan notes as they pass under the snowy branches, "It's very slight but the tracks here have been snowed over."
"Oh, wow, I could not see anything amiss..." Ophilia glances about as she follows.
"It's quite an art, being a hunter and tracking quarry," Cyrus remarks as they walk, "Hmm... Is it just me or does it feel oddly still here?"
"... Aye, the air is stagnant. Cold settles this way. There is not even snow falling... nor any sound of creatures in the night," Olberic exhales a puff of white, "Certainly strange."
There is a roar that jostles the party, sounding incredibly close. Its volume is loud enough that they can almost feel themselves shake from the vibrations in the air.
"W-what was that?" Ophilia asks worriedly.
"It was way too loud to be a simple bear..." Ashlan picks his ears a little and draws his bow, "We should avoid it."
"Wait, if H'aanit is fighting it, we should go towards it!" Ophilia objects.
"It sounded similar, I believe, to the earlier roar that I heard with Arianna..." Cyrus seems to think a moment, "I don't know... could lady H'aanit be engaged with something frightening..."
"... If we proceed stealthily, we can ascertain this. We cannot chance that she is not fighting some feral creature. But we will just make sure, then, and make for quick escape if we do not find her. Agreed?" Olberic looks to his companions.
"... Alright. We'll try," Ashlan nods a little, "Stay close to the trees. It'll help cover our way."
"Thank you, Ashlan," Ophilia says gratefully.
Because there is a strange dearth of other creatures here, the party moves rather quickly along. They do, however, encounter the bodies of slain creatures like mushrooms and sundered weed bundles.
"Hmm... Methinks this has to be the work of our huntress companion..." Cyrus says as he looks over another defeated weed, "Fascinating flora in this area indeed."
"She's a strong one, isn't she..." Ashlan suppresses a yawn, "... Maybe she turned in somewhere for the night? Hunters have to sleep, too... And it's really late..."
"Hmm... Then would she have a fire? Mayhap we can find her with smoke trailing up from the trees...?" Olberic looks up at the sky to see the towering evergreens surrounding them.
"Nah. You don't want to draw attention to yourself here in the cold. It's more likely a hunter in the snows would sleep by a rock shelter or above in the trees to avoid beasts," Ashlan points out.
"..." Olberic glances at Ophilia, who seems pale with worry, "Don't worry, Ophilia. I am sure H'aanit is more than capable..."
"R-right... It's just..." Ophilia puts a hand to her head, "I keep hearing... a distant voice... It's so sad and ... it's calling out for help..."
"I... don't hear anything..." Ashlan cups a hand to his ear. There is another roar right then and there, sounding even closer.
"Aside from that, neither do I..." Olberic thinks.
"I... It's something strange I've picked up on recently... It feels like I can ... hear thoughts?" Ophilia sighs, "If that makes any sense... But it's not consistent."
"Telepathy? Fascinating!" Cyrus exclaims. Ashlan also perks up with some interest.
"So, then... are you hearing the thoughts of someone near us?" Olberic rubs his chin, "Is it someone you know?"
"It's not H'aanit... I don't know this voice..." Ophilia swallows, "I just have a bad feeling..."
"Well, we're in the thick of the wood still, so we can't just dally around about thoughts... I think I'm seeing the most recent tracks... just vaguely," Ashlan calls from a few paces ahead.
They venture forth some minutes and see where some trees lack snow, having been shaken. Recently disturbed clumps litter the base. Ophilia sees the lightest stain of red and runs forward to approach. She sees that familiar patterned pelt...
"Linde!" The cleric says with worry as she looks over the large cat, "There you are! Oh, and you're... injured...!"
The large cat is lying limply in the snow as she tries to cradle its head. She can see blood staining its pelt, paws, and maw. Worst of all, she feels the underside of the beast to be abnormally soft, like its bones had collapsed from impact.
"Rr..." Linde weakly growls.
"My gods!" Cyrus runs over as well, "What happened? Where is H'aanit?"
"That your huntress friend's partner?" Ashlan asks.
"Yes... But she is not here..." Olberic glances up at the trees, "Linde... Did something flying into the trees and knock off all the snow?"
Linde's tail weakly points in a direction between some trees. She gives Ophilia a pleading look.
"Rowr..."
"... She can't move like this..." Ophilia lightly touches the beast's chest with some healing magic, "She has a lot of broken bones..."
"That way...?" Ashlan looks where Linde points and feels his hairs stand on end, "Whoa, what..."
"Hm? What is it?" Olberic looks to the hunter.
"... Hunter's instinct... Something ... big and... angry is there thataway..." Ashlan whispers.
As if to affirm his words, that roar sounds again, closer than ever, and clearly in that direction. The sound pierces the party to their core.
"... H'aanit is there..." Ophilia bites her lower lip and stands, "She needs our help."
"I'm feeling a very strong beast that way..." Ashlan looks to the cleric with apprehension, "Are you all sure about this?"
"Ashlan, could you stay and watch over Linde?" Ophilia looks to the hunter, "I don't want to leave her here like this..."
"And then we shall go forth, eh?" Cyrus seems to be shivering in his shoes, maybe from excitement or fear, "My... I am absolutely ecstatic and... utterly anxious about what beast we may encounter..."
"... Indeed," Olberic sighs, "We cannot leave lady H'aanit to face such a threat alone."
Ashlan looks to the three of them with disbelief and slight admiration, almost, "You guys are... something else... Alright... I'll stay with the leopard. Please don't get yourselves killed..."
"Mm. Thank you, Ashlan," Ophilia nods and starts for the trees now. Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach, she doesn't falter in step.
Please, be okay, H'aanit...
...
In some distant millennia, the magenta skies are raging with dark clouds. The stench of blood is rife in the air. Shadows of the dragon kin fly among the air, blasting their magical flames at the hordes of undead rising from a rift carved deep into the scarred earth.
The blade of blood, wielded by the humongous shadow known as the Thirteenth, cleaves through the dragon numbers, rendering several of them plummeting to the earth. Those that fall are consumed, flesh and bone, and incorporated into the grotesque parade that forms the Thirteenth's armies.
White lightning splits the skies as Balogar's runes grant the dragon's strength. They breath cold and lightning onto the hordes. Dreisang's consuming gales combine with fire to destroy masses of the Thirteenth's armies.
The Thirteenth points at the dragons with an oozing talon, his magenta eyes glowering with malice and hatred.
"You stand against me, you worms of the skies? Fall. Fall and be consumed by madness!"
From that gaze and that command, several dragons suddenly writhe in the air. Those that fall become consumed by the various raging, screaming, and wailing souls that swarm into disgusting masses of flesh and blood.
"I will rule this world! And no one will stand in my way!"
A red flash emits from the Thirteenth's abdomen, where his grotesque eye pulsates like a bulbous orb. Several other dragons turn into stone midair and break into shards.
The remaining braves scorch the Thirteenth's forces, driving them back into the rift. Steorra's protections form searing stars that fall from the heavens into that miasmatic cut in the earth, purifying and sealing it.
There is a cheer from the forces of the twelve gods as the battle is won. The Thirteenth pulls back and retreats for now.
Before anyone can celebrate, several remaining dragons begin letting out incessant roars of pain. They lash and attack each other as if mad.
That flaring light of lasting malice remains pierced into their minds.
"Be consumed by madness."
The dragons slowly fall from the skies, eyes mad with the retained hatred of the Thirteenth.
H'aanit feels that madness touch her own mind. She gives a scream at that burning as it consumes her like an accursed flame. What echoes out is the roar of a dragon.
"Let madness drive you. Let my hate be your eternal nightmare…"
Spiraling into the icy cliffs, the dragon waited to die as the Thirteenth's curse consumed it and its brethren. As the others died, their bones and flesh returned to the earth. From there sprouted a peculiar flower. Gazing upon it bought the slightest bit of peace. And so the dragon was determined to protect this… even if it no longer could think.
...
"What the…"
Cyrus, Olberic, and Ophilia gaze upon the massive dragon before them. It has dark scales like the night sky, and red eyes. Yellowish scales cover its underside and the skin between its wings. Wounds litter its body and one of its eyes is bleeding profusely. The creature is surrounded by destruction wrought by its battle with something… but the huntress is nowhere to be seen.
The three of them are taking shelter by the trees. For now, the dragon seems not to have noticed them. The beast slowly lumbers aimlessly with sluggish gait, its head bowed.
"A dragon…?" Olberic can scarcely believe it as he keeps a hand on his sword. Dragons are creatures he had heard of but never seen… usually in fairy tales.
"Amazing…! Draconis Rex… Everyone believes dragons more or less extinct but this is…" Cyrus can't help but sound scholarly, "And in such a climate, to find one!"
"Where's H'aanit…" Ophilia looks about frantically. She spots a bow and quiver scattered among the snow… but nothing else really… Her heart sinks.
"Destroy…"
Ophilia perks up. It's a voice again, unheard yet echoing in her heart. Who is it? It's not H'aanit…
Could it be the dragon? The cleric hadn't considered that.
"End it… The … nightmares… I don't… Let me rest…here… as well…"
It sounds so sad.
"… I think it's in pain…" Ophilia whispers to the scholar and knight, "H'aanit and Linde seem to have wounded it."
"But where is H'aanit?" Olberic asks firmly, "You don't think she… is in the gullet of the creature, do you?"
"Erm… That is… an unfortunate possibility…" Cyrus mumbles, "We ought to try and be optimistic… Perhaps she was flung as Linde was?"
"Also possible," Olberic nods. He peers out at where the dragon lingers, "Are those the… herbs that lady Susanna mentioned? The dragon is keeping rather close to them…"
"I wonder if those plants have some affinity for dragons…" Cyrus speculates, "How shall we approach this? Incapacitate the beast?"
"I think not, scholar," Olberic sighs, "Wounded as it is… we have also sustained fatigue from this night."
"Wait…" Ophilia squints and glimpses something almost impossible.
Clipped on one of the flaring fins on the side of the dragon's head is a familiar feather earring…
"H… H'aanit?"
Before Cyrus or Olberic can stop her, the cleric bursts out from her hiding place to confront the dragon. She stands amid the dug-up earth with as firm a stance as she can muster. The dragon turns at the sound of her voice, its one good eye glistening.
"Grr..."
"It's... you, right? H'aanit?" Ophilia asks loudly, "You took on this form of the dragon...?!"
"What is she doing?" Cyrus asks worriedly. Olberic doesn't answer him, merely stamping out to go aid the cleric. The warrior positions himself before Ophilia, his hand on his sword.
"Ophilia! Get back!" The warrior shouts.
"N-no, look! The dragon has H'aanit's earrings... She has the ability to take the forms of other beasts by calling on their strength...!" Ophilia tries to explain, "We've seen it before! She-"
"She doesn't seem to recognize us, even if what you say is true," Olberic says levelly, keeping his eyes on the dragon, "Those are the eyes of a maddened beast."
Indeed, the dragon exhales a breath of warm mist. It rears its head back, throat bulging.
"-! GET AWAY! IT'S GOING TO BREATHE FIRE!" Cyrus shouts.
"Kh-" Olberic moves to pull Ophilia down.
"Ah!" Ophilia is wrestled down. She grasps her staff, "H'aanit, no-!"
The dragon blasts a breath of scorching fire at them both. The blaze can be felt by Cyrus even from his further distance. The head of Ophilia's staff glows a soft light and Olberic doesn't feel nearly as much pain as he expected. To his amazement, the flames are seemingly being blocked by a barrier around himself and Ophilia.
"This is... protection?" He realizes.
"Olberic, please let me try and talk to her...!" Ophilia pleads against the warrior, "Something's wrong..."
"Ophilia, it might not be her as you say...!" Olberic tries to reason with her, "We had not seen her change! It is possible that-"
Ophilia shakes her head in denial, "I know it has to be... H'aanit would never give up...!"
The fire dispels as the stream ends, leaving a wide swath of scorched earth encircling the warrior and cleric. Smoke roils from the dragon's nose as it heaves, having spent much stamina on that dragonfire.
"She's in pain..." Ophilia pulls away from Olberic's protective embrace, "She and the dragon... that must have been its voice..."
"Ophilia! Olberic!" Cyrus runs out and stands beside them despite his better judgment, "What's this I hear about that dragon being H'aanit?"
"H'aanit mentioned that, as hunters, they could draw on the powers of a beast..." Ophilia takes a step forward, her staff still glowing with protective energy, "Doing so, they could take on the form of a beast temporarily... But something must have gone wrong..."
"Becoming beast? Using their powers...? Fascinating..." Cyrus can't hide his curiosity and rambles a little, "I do think I have heard of such things... hunters that can utilize the quarry they slay..."
"I had seen it back in Stonegard..." Olberic says with a sigh, "It is impressive, but..."
Olberic looks skeptical still and seems about to draw his sword, "We cannot linger here with conjecture while it tries to roast us alive."
"Rr... Raaargh!" The dragon swipes its tail at Ophilia. Olberic runs forward and blocks the strike with his blade. His blade edge grinds on those tough dragon scales.
"H'aanit, please, you can hear me, can't you?" Ophilia calls out, arms raised, "It's us! We came to find you...! I'm sorry we couldn't be here sooner... We shouldn't have let you come out here alone!"
"Grrgh...!" The dragon exhales a hot breath, trying to push Olberic down. It then tries using a claw to strike.
"Oh dear... Erm...! Icewind!" Cyrus does some quick thinking and summons ice shackles to bind the dragon's claws to the ruined earth. But these won't hold long, as ice is brittle against the strength of the large beast. The scholar strains to upkeep the ice magic.
"It's... faltering now? Of all times..." Cyrus grunts, feeling the drain of a night's magic use at last, "I-I don't want to hurt you, if you are indeed H'aanit!"
"Are you hurt? We can help you..." Ophilia pleads, her hands glowing a soft light, "Please, come back with us, H'aanit...!"
The dragon's one eye seems to flicker for a second. Its head recoils slightly at the cleric's advance and the light. Without warning, it brings its maw down to snap the cleric in half like a snake striking.
"Ophilia!"
The dragon's teeth sink into Ophilia's shoulder, blood blossoms and stains her white garb before dripping onto the ground. Despite the attack and pain, Ophilia stands her ground impressively, having barely made a sound.
"Ngh... H... H'aanit..."
"Urk, it's so strong...!" Cyrus winces as his ice begins to crack.
Ophilia's glowing hands shakily touch the dragon's head, spreading her healing magic, "It's... It's alright... I'm right here..."
...
At that moment, she suddenly was no longer in that place in the Whitewood. She was somewhere else. Somewhere dark and wooded. Wind can be heard whistling overhead. There are no paths here. She is lost!
"... W... where?" Ophilia looks around worriedly, "Olberic?! Cyrus?!"
Instead of the voice of her companions, she hears a familiar growling. Running through the trees towards it, she finds the dragon in a clearing around a rocky outcrop. The beast seems a bit smaller than she remembered. It is perched with its claws digging into H'aanit on the ground before it. The huntress' eyes are glassy.
"H'aanit!" Ophilia screams.
"O... Ophili... a?" H'aanit notices her and weakly turns her head at the sound of her voice.
The dragon gives a maddened screech. Ophilia sees its scales are stained with dark red fluid that flows from various cracks along its body.
It's hurt? Ophilia frowns a bit, gathering her wits about.
"Let her go! You had been calling out all this time, hadn't you? You're in pain, aren't you?" The cleric bravely approaches the dragon, "I can help you. Just please, let H'aanit go."
"Raaargh..." The dragon hisses and spits. It slowly forms words, "Destroy... feed... the blood... the Thirteenth... death desires life... so life shall give... we... shall..."
Ophilia purses her lips and raises her hands. From her palms shoot out a white beam that blast the dragon in the neck. The beast roars in pain as its flesh smolders and it's forced off the huntress. As it writhes in pain, more of its body seems to be sagging and almost turning like molten wax, stained with that dark fluid.
"AAaaarrgh..."
"Unh..." H'aanit breathes shallowly as Ophilia approaches.
"You are... your mind is corrupted, isn't it? You've been asking for so long to rest... Is that it?" Ophilia keeps her hands trained on the beast, "I'm sorry... I can't let you hurt H'aanit even if I pity you..."
"Grr... ghh... The red eye... the... end times... My... wings... my brethren..." The dragon sluggishly rears its head at the cleric. It sends a blast of flame at her, but she blocks it with protection magic, also shielding H'aanit by her feet.
Ophilia can guess this is somewhat similar to a mental space from how her powers feel... It's not exactly like the one that was in the blood stone, for sure. This must be the combined consciousness of H'aanit and the dragon...
"I'll bring you to rest, then," Ophilia concentrates. A veil of radiant energy gathers around her in a dazzling gleam.
H'aanit's eyes widen, as Ophilia's visage seems to change into that of another figure, one of pure light. It reminded her of the glow that saved them from the specters of the dead sailors back in Goldshore.
"Raaaaah..." The dragon is seemingly consumed by white. The light spreads and the world around goes blank.
...
"Ophilia!"
The moment that Olberic felt any weakness in that dragon tail pushing on him, he shoves it off and runs to pry the dragon's jaws off the cleric.
Cyrus is shocked as the dragon body seems to be disintegrating. Its scales fly off like swarms of butterflies, crumbling to ash midair and vanishing entirely. Ophilia falls into Olberic's arms. Left amid the snows once the dragon form has dissipated... is the battered body of H'aanit.
"Ophilia...! Gods..." Olberic shouts to Cyrus, "She's unconscious!"
"H'aanit is as well...!" Cyrus rushes to check on the huntress, "She's injured quite badly...!"
To Cyrus' shock, the huntress' body bears wounds he had not seen on the dragon. What's more, parts of her skin look like they still have bits of dark scales embedded in them... He touches her to feel she is cold as ice.
"W... what should we do, Olberic?" Cyrus asks with bits of fear now surfacing in his voice.
"... I have some supplies to bandage wounds... We must try to get them back to Stillsnow!" The warrior says as resolutely as he can.
Mentally saying his apologies, he goes to pull off Ophilia's cloak to better inspect her wound. To his surprise, while blood stains that white gown, the wound itself seems to have sealed completely, leaving only a pale scar.
To his immense relief, Ophilia seems to stir a little. Her eyes open after some difficulty and Olberic glimpses a palimpsest white glow to the iris.
"Unh..." She grunts and winces, "O-Olberic...?"
"Thank the gods..." Olberic says softly, "You're alright, Ophilia."
"W... Where's H'aanit?!" Ophilia tries to sit up from his arms immediately.
"Ophilia! You're alright!" Cyrus looks up in relief.
"Cyrus, thank the Flame... Ah, H'aanit!" Ophilia's eyes widen at the prone form in the snow. She runs over, kneeling by the huntress to get a look at her wounds, "Oh, these wounds... How dreadful..."
H'aanit is utterly unresponsive as Ophilia tries to heal where the dragon had bit, clawed, and smacked her with its appendages. She really did feel cold, like a corpse. Cyrus bends down to make sure she's still even breathing.
"Her... her breath sounds rather ragged..." The scholar says shakily.
"... Please, hang in there..." Ophilia says with fervent prayer. She holds H'aanit's hand in her own as her other hand passes with a healing glow over the most grievous of the injuries.
"..." Olberic glances away from the scene a little to the flowers that bloom. It's amazing, how untouched they are despite the destruction wrought in the earth around them. Susanna said these were the plants H'aanit had to seek, right? He couldn't be sure, but he goes to gather a few and make himself useful.
Ophilia bites her bottom lip as she realizes the wounds do not seem to be closing. H'aanit's fingers are cold and limp in her hand. Her chest shows no sign of breathing
"You... you idiot... You said you wanted to find your master, right..." Ophilia fights back tears as she goes to pull her gloves off, revealing her white-scarred hands, much to Cyrus' surprise.
"And yet you run out here... Fighting some dreadful beast... and end up like this...!" The cleric is uncharacteristically livid, almost, as she presses her hands to the heavy wound on the hunter's torso, "You're no better... you fool!"
To Cyrus' immense surprise, a stronger light radiates from Ophilia's hands. Her eyes also glow luminously, and the scars on her fingers spread up along her hands and wrist. Miraculously, the wounds that were not closing before now begin to heal.
"O-Ophilia, what..." Cyrus says in awe.
"I won't let you die... You... can't die, H'aanit...!" Ophilia says forcefully, "You still have to find your master, don't you?"
I still... want to travel with you, too!
The light pulsates with a strong throb and then vanishes with a soundless pop. There is a twitch, and then H'aanit gives a shallow gasp.
"Ugh..."
"H'aanit!" Cyrus says with relief, "Oh, thank the gods... Ophilia, you did it..."
The scholar looks to see the cleric seemingly pass out onto the ground.
"Ophilia!"