As I see that massive pile of bones, I also see countless smaller, more modern Blood Dragon skeletons atop that. They’re all those who came here for the Trial of Truth in recent times and didn’t make it, I know, as I take in that terrible pile of carnage at the chill center of the lake.
A mountain of death, here beneath the water.
Bjorn snorts for us to dive down to see what we can see. We’re still bleeding out, as we move our dragon-bodies like serpents now to dive further into the bowels of the lake.
Folding our wings close so we’re the most water-dynamic, we vibrateour magic around us now, sending ripples of energy through our skin and scales to staunch our bleeding. It helps, but only a little.
Far less than the dominion our power normally has over blood, to heal injuries while we’re fighting.
It gives us a bit more time, though, as we pool our magics and resonate them through our life-bonds now to strengthen the effect. As we dive towards the grisly center of the lake, I know it won’t last—we’ll either die by blood loss down here, or we’ll run out of breath faster than we can bleed out.
Most Blood Dragons live by the sea and have adapted to hold our breath for ten or even fifteen minutes under water, but we don’t have gills like Sirens. If there’s any battle to come in this Trial, we’ll lose air even faster as we investigate this pile of bones.
Praying our breath and blood holds out until it’s time to make our choice.
Of life—or death this day.
7
BONES
As Bjorn, Ström, and I dive towards the bottom of the lake for our Trial of Truth, one thing becomes apparent. The closer we get to the massive pile of dragon bones at the lake’s chill center, the more the Truthtalon slices in our skin begin to hum.
I didn’t notice it at first, but now I feel like my entire body’s thrumming, vibrating with beautiful harmonies, the closer we get. We’re so close now, the bones at the bottom of the lake are like a mountain before us.
Dominating my thoughts and all my dragon’s instincts.
As that sorcerous singing hits a pinnacle, calling me forward to get lost in the bones and touch them, some deep shock goes off inside me. As if responding to a ten-alarm fire, my inner Bone Magic drake rises like a leviathan of night now, roaring with a terrible sound all through my body—for me to get back.
My brighter Blood Magic drakaina doesn’t understand what calls to her down here; she wants to move in and hear that soulful singing more. But my black drake knows the score; it knows that sound.
My Bone Magic roars a terrible awareness through me now; its powerthunders inside me as I hear that soulful singing like fell voices, calling across the sea to heartbroken mariners. I understand then that the sound emanating from the pile of bones only sings for me to come find solace in the endless embrace of the deeps.
The endless embrace of death.
I roar now as I hear it, shock flooding me. I jerk back from the pile of bones as adrenaline rips through me—undoing a sensation of being oh-so-tempted to touch that gleaming white pile.
Bjorn and Ström are a short distance away, each within a scales-breadth of touching a skeleton on the pile. As if we’d all been in some kind of trance, listening to that music as we swam, we’re far too close to the bones now for comfort.
As my black drake blares a terrible warning all through me now, Ström’s Bone Magic drake echoes it. Together, we flood Bjorn.
All of us jerking away—as we struggle to not roar out in fright.
What the fuck?!Ström’s clear tenor voice cuts through my mind as we hold ourselves back from heaving breaths, with the adrenaline coursing through us.
It’ssome kind of ancient enchantment.Bjorn thinks as we swim back together and he eyeballs us. Leaving the towering pile of bones, we make for a large boulder at the bottom of the lake. We settle onto it to cease swimming and conserve our air, regarding the pile from a safe distance.
And feel only death emanating from it.
They all died, because they felt this death-song calling them, and they didn’t wake from it in time to stop from touching those bones… adding themselves to the pile.I think, as I regard the pile from a distance. My dragon makes me curl up barbs-out now on the boulder, as I glance at my drakes.All I feel from that entire pile is death. You?
Death.Ström nods, his big green dragon eyes with their brimstone-red ring regarding me as he fights to not curl up like I just did.
Death. Bjorn nods also, as his massive, blocky head swings around toregard the pile. He’s done better than Ström and me, not curling up defensively as he rakes a taloned hand through the water, at the pile and the boulders surrounding it.Do any of you feel life anywhere, like Jarl Jorg said to us? I feel something… but I’m not sure where it is.
I survey the cold, blue deeps of the lake now, taking it all in. The water’s so clear, we can see to either shore and all around, though there’s only white ice above, other than the massive hole we came in by.
I don’t feel any signature of life anywhere in this place, not even with my dragon’s exacting instincts and senses. Barren, not even the hardiest seaweed and fish move in the lake’s depths.
