Deep in Zirien's cave home, a cracked geode hummed at the far end of the cavern. An altar stood nearby, dedicated to his estranged half-elven goddess.
At another corner, a massive emerald dragon skull rested. Large enough to serve as a bathing pool, the cavernous skull loomed as a grim reminder of victories past.
Swift-River looked up from her studies. "Our spell research goes quickly. We are near its completion." Pain sparked above her temples and her upper back.
Iandel turned, "Wolves! You should've seen the real show," his hands sliced through the air. "Lightning chains exploded like nature's tantrum. And now?" He flashed a cynical grin. "We've got ourselves a horned beast decked in metal feathers. Thing flies faster than my patience runs out."
Pushing a tome to the side, Zirien leaned back. "You missed quite the show, darling." He raised an eyebrow.
"With some help from a dragon heart and bones intertwined with magic and metal." Deep in remembrance, he paused. "Our sister Piffner was created that night."
He traced a lion's silhouette in the air. "Muscles rippled beneath a coat of golden metal scales." He swept his hand in an arc. "Her tail swished, sending rainbow reflections dancing across cave walls."
His fingers fanned out. "When she unfurled her train, metallic peacock feathers caught the light like living gemstones." He touched his forehead. "From her noble brow, a spiral horn rose. Raw magic crackled when she charged. They say the aurora borealis danced across the sky. We three brothers were too focused on our work to witness it."
"Piffner's brood," Iandel continued, spinning a dagger between his fingers with a dark chuckle. "Air Cavalry for his fancy island home. Trust Zirien to build himself a private army while the rest of us slept."
"There's no time to revel in past feats," Zirien declared. "We've mastered three spells' languages, and we're poised to refine them further. We figured out how to retain Tree Jump for entry, and we altered the Entangle spell for sustained concealment within the tree. Our last task is to rework an animal sense enchantment for the plant realm."
Swift-River turned her gaze back to the ancient tome. Her fingers danced across the worn pages. "Back to the secrets you hold." Swift-River nudged closer to Zirien. As she reached for a particular passage, their hands brushed accidentally. A jolt of warmth shot through her fingers, and their eyes met for a heartbeat too long before both looked away. Using my dragon voice is a betrayal to the Druid circle.
"Ah... wolves! I'm about as useful here as a torch in daylight." Iandel saw Swift-River lean in close to Zirien, a knowing smirk playing across his lips. His hands animated his words with sharp gestures. "You two craft your spells. I'll fetch the vine." He turned toward the cave entrance, his cloak swirling dramatically. "Piffner and I will handle the treetop hunting." At the threshold, he looked back with a sardonic grin. "Try not to miss me too much, Swifty," he added with a wink.
The pain where Swift-River's horns emerged pulsed with intensity. Tonight, the moon waxes to its first quarter. Miikka and Vardan have a meeting tonight. I need to spy on them. "Zirien, if we are to seek out Crimson Ruby, I must retrieve my armor." A convenient half-truth for her true intent.
Swift-River masked her pain, but Zirien's eyes missed nothing.
"Go claim your shell of war," he said with a raised eyebrow. "True armor is the fortitude within. By moonrise, I'll have Arboreal Embrace ready for action," he promised with a subtle smirk.
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Zirien grasped Swift-River's hand, leading her from the shadowy depths of the cavern into the embrace of the setting sun's fiery kiss. As they passed the great dragon skull, its empty sockets watched them go. "Stay safe," his voice echoed into the valley of the fading day.
Her emerald tunic's high slit revealed the sculpture-like contours of her strong leg. Swift-River's blue cloak danced around her, "I will be back with the first whisper of dawn." The warm embrace and its lingering kiss promised a morning reunion. As they parted, Swift-River found herself lingering in his arms a moment longer than usual.
Swift-River, in spider monkey form, darted up the path to the oak with lightning speed. Miikka will talk. Ruby's location will be mine, she vowed, gripping the bark, her golden fur gleaming in the setting sun. With the Dragon's voice within, she readied to confront Miikka.
The last rays of daylight surrendered to dusk as Swift-River shifted forms again. Her spider monkey's golden fur melted away, replaced by the muted patterns of a common tabby cat.
Beneath Twisted Trails Tavern's swinging sign, she prowled and then lounged atop the dining room rafters. Miikka can't elude me. In the tavern's warm embrace, the halfling bard strummed the final chords of a song. Scarcely taller than the chair he stood upon, he belted out the crescendo, his hands dancing across the lute.
Diamonds gleam in the moon's cold light,
Puppet strings taut with ancient might.
A terror stirs from recent sleep,
While whispers of the dead begin to seep.
Fear the glint, fear the sway,
Of diamond's dance and puppet's play.
In its cold and heartless glare,
Echoes of genocide fill the air.
So let this song rise, let it ring,
Diamond-clad beast, pulled by puppet strings.
As the dead walk again in the star's cold cast,
Stand firm, brave hearts, stand fast.
Swift-River's gaze sharpened as Miikka entered. A few moments later, Vardan loomed in the doorway. Showtime. She relocated to a cozy windowsill overlooking the newest two patrons. She gazed out the window at the intersection of the Blue Highway and the Eastern Glistening Ring Route. Her purr, a soft melody.
Tension crackled as Vardan approached. "Even the rats shun your shadow!" Miikka spun to face him, his three-foot frame somehow filling the space. "Like your fashion sense, mate," he quipped, as he flipped his coin faster.
"Your presence disgusts me," Vardan replied, his voice a sinister whisper. His fingers fidgeted nervously. "Shadowmane, where is he? If he's been harmed," evil shadowed his face. "I'll harvest your Pulse Fire Nodule while you are awake."
With a sly grin, Miikka, his voice a conspiratorial whisper as he spun a coin between his fingers. "Crimson Ruby sanctioned the next move. The Orc eradication escalation starts?"
Vardan towered over Miikka. "Injure my steed, and I defy Crimson Ruby himself. Your plots end where my beast's wings begin."
Miikka faced Vardan, "I honor strength and purity in creatures, unlike the evil that courses through you."
Claws retracted, the tabby cat hissed, backing into shadows, and leaped out the open window.
Swift-River, in her sleek cat form, crouched outside, her eyes fixed on the tavern door. The moment Miikka emerged, she sprung forward and shadowed him "Secrets unravel tonight," she murmured, leaping across rooftops to keep pace.
He stopped, turned to face her, and grinned slyly. "Swifty, I thought that was you eavesdropping in the tavern," he teased, his coin still dancing between his nimble fingers. "Your tabby disguise isn't as sneaky as you think."
Miikka halted and faced her. "Had you lingered, you'd know MurDuel marshals undead Orcs against their kin tonight."
Swift-River shifted to her half-elven form, gown settling around her. Heat built in her throat. "Y'all know why I'm here, sugar. Crimson Ruby's hideouts. Spill it now!" Her southern drawl carried dragon fire beneath the sweetness.
Miikka's eyes glazed over at Swift-River's southern-tinged command. His coin clattered to the ground. The halfling's jaw went slack, his normally animated features frozen in a vacant stare. "Two of Crimson Ruby's lairs are where you suffered under his rule." Miikka knelt mechanically, fingers digging into the dirt with robotic precision. "Here, here, and here, the beast hides." Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he fought against the words spilling from his own lips.
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Next time: The undead march. The living scramble. And Swift-River knows where to strike.
Breach of Balance ---

