Chapter 33 - Allies in Distress

  Light poured through the ceiling of transparent stone as Swift-River and Zirien followed Grand Druid Adamar into his office. The narrow entrance forced their shoulders to brush. Zirien steadied her with a quick touch on her elbow.

  She caught his scent. Pine, and storm. Unchanging since they'd first met.

  But something else caught her attention.

  In the corner of the room, suspended on a golden chain, hung what looked like a geode. Its brown outer shell was cracked open, revealing vibrant purple crystals within. The crystals pulsed with a rhythm, like a living heartbeat. A faint glow emanated from them, reminiscent of the fireflies in Crimson Ruby's lair, though cleaner somehow. Pure.

  Swift-River leaned closer, her draconic senses drawn to the magical resonance. Ancient Druidic symbols etched into the shell.

  "Please do not touch that." Adamar's jaw tightened. Something in his eyes shuttered.

  Swift-River withdrew her hand, but her gaze cataloged every detail.

  * * *

  Adamar's pinecone armor transformed into a loose tunic as he sat. "Tell me more about the fireflies."

  "They moved in patterns no ordinary insects could manage," Swift-River said. "Strategic deployments. Synchronized shifts. Crimson Ruby controlled them completely. She used them as weapons."

  "Miikka lost his Life-force to them," she added. "I heard Ruby call them 'fireflies of life.'"

  Adamar stood and began to pace. "From what the Pathfinders reported, the ground burst open with these fireflies. They fragmented into clusters and rocketed toward several cities across the realm."

  His fingers trembled as he retrieved a small, rusted nail from his pocket.

  "I saw them through a divination pool. The dead rising from marble tombs. A child's scream cut short. Blood on ancestral blades." He blinked hard, forcing himself back to the present. "The nightmare ended only with the first light of dawn."

  * * *

  Far to the north, Lord Thaddeus WindRider surveyed the damage to his city.

  The royal crypts stood open, their ancient seals shattered from within. Blood stained marble that had remained pristine for centuries. His long-dead aunts—the ones he'd buried with his own hands as a young man—had risen, slaughtered, and been destroyed in a single night.

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  He should feel grief. He performed the appropriate gestures. A hand pressed to his heart. A moment of bowed silence before the broken tombs.

  But his mind was elsewhere. Cataloguing. Calculating.

  "The Fireflies originated from the southeast," Captain HehFesTuhs reported, his armor still bearing the stains of the night's battle. "Pathfinder reports suggest a coordinated launch from multiple sites."

  WindRider's fingers came together in their habitual steeple. "Southeast. The Enchanted Expanse." His voice carried appropriate concern, underlaid with something sharper. "Someone is testing the realm's defenses. Probing for weaknesses."

  "Shall I reinforce the southern borders, my lord?"

  "No." WindRider turned from the crypts, his cloak sweeping across bloodstained stone. "Reinforce nothing. Document everything. I want to know exactly how these attacks unfold. Response times. Casualty patterns. Which defenses held and which crumbled."

  HehFesTuhs hesitated. "My lord... should we not prioritize protection?"

  WindRider's smile held warmth that never reached his eyes. "Knowledge is protection, Captain. The next attack—and there will be more—will find us prepared. But only if we understand what we face."

  His hand found the lily pendant beneath his collar. Cold comfort against colder calculation.

  "Besides," he added, almost to himself, "whoever orchestrates this chaos will eventually overreach. They always do. And when they fall..."

  He left the thought unfinished. Some plans required patience measured in years, not days.

  * * *

  Zirien leaned forward, a dangerous smile tugging at his mouth. "Three or four more jars sat on a shelf in Crimson Ruby's lair. Displayed like trophies." His fingers drummed against the armrest. "The real question isn't if he has more hidden across the realm. It's how many. And where."

  Swift-River's mind raced. "If Crimson Ruby has more of these fireflies, the Orcs face systematic extinction. Not random attacks. Calculated genocide."

  Adamar stopped pacing. "We can't waste time. Swift-River, I'll support your mission to protect the Orcs. Our resources are at your disposal. Work with Lixiss to coordinate surveillance."

  He glanced at Zirien. "We'll discuss strategy further once you've handled things with Lixiss."

  Swift-River rose as the Grand Druid's silence signaled her dismissal. She turned to leave but paused, catching Zirien's gaze. His steady, intense eyes locked onto hers.

  Her gaze flicked to the thin scar on his temple. She remembered the moment he'd shielded her from falling debris in the caves. The mark was barely visible unless you knew where to look. Something unfamiliar stirred in her chest, but she pushed it down.

  The survival of the Orcs came first.

  * * *

  The door closed behind Swift-River. Adamar gestured to Zirien, who straightened in his chair.

  "Your tactical experience is needed here," Adamar said. "What do you recommend?"

  "Split your Druid Pathfinders into reconnaissance units. Assign each to specific territories." Zirien sketched patterns in the air. "My brothers and I will lead an expedition into the Nether Vine system. We'll map Crimson Ruby's network and position monitoring points at key intervals."

  Adamar nodded. "Reconnaissance and surveillance. Good. Proceed."

  Zirien's hand brushed the charm at his neck. The memory of the massive Pulse Fire Nodule embedded in the Nether Vine's heart flashed through his mind. If Crimson Ruby found it first...

  He clenched his jaw. The secret burned in his throat, but he kept it locked.

  For now.

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  Next time: The Nether Vines hide more than roots. Zirien's secret won't keep.

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