I hold on to my brighter Blood Magic now, as it guides me through this gauntlet of death. Far chillier than even the vast halls ofUnhaemmerten, I sense something truly awful happened here, which first created this ancient pile.
Though I can hear that vast death-song calling me to touch those bones, something about it is not right. It’s just a vast flood of sound, I realize; I can’t hear any individual voices from these dead as we continue on.
It’s not the norm with my Bloodwalker power. As if some terrible magic stripped their soul’s voices from their bones forever, a deep, strange silence envelops my Bloodwalker’s senses through the Veil as we swim through this gauntlet of death.
Despite that siren-like song coming from the pile, these bones are empty, their souls not inside the Void of Ancestors; that thought chills me far more than anything else, as I swim further, navigating the tight twists and turns.
Like an octopus, I ease my coils and scales oh-so-carefully around every jutting knob of bones, because now I know some ancient terror happened here. Maybe a battle, maybe a massacre; these oldest Blood Dragons died because something attacked them, then kept their souls from entering the Ancestor’s Void or even remaining in their bones.
It’s something that annihilated them in a single swipe. I knowthatsomething is the Black Dragon—I feel its sinister power echo throughout the bones at the very bottom of the pile as we swim through them now.
What I don’t know is what happened to all those dead dragon souls, as we twist and turn our way down into those ancient bones. I begin to see the charred black runes of the creature burned into every femur and spine. Just like the Black Dragon’s terrible works above, these sear with a caustic red oilslick color shining through the black. Utterly diseased, theircruel slashes are the work of a beast far worse than any mortal Blood Dragon.
A thousand times worse than even Jarl Oggi Magnussen, waiting far above.
At last, we come to the epicenter of the bones. At the place where the life-song is strongest, I see a small clearing now, something in the middle of it.
Settled in a niche made by a few massive boulders, that something shimmers through the darkness of the water inside the pile; with an amazed snort, I feel the signature of brightest life emanate off it, even as the deepest death surrounds it.
I swim over now to peruse the object—and realize it’s embedded into the gargantuan skull of one of the most ancient Blood Dragons. I can’t tell what the silver artifact is as it sits in the ridged forehead of that skull, right between the gaping eye holes. It looks like some kind of adornment, but I know it’s more than that.
Still bright, it shines through the water with an inner light, when genuine silver should have tarnished long ago. The blazing sensation of Bloodwalker magic seethes off the object, beautiful and terrifying.
It’s coming off the skull, too; I don’t know who made this artifact, but I know it was made for this ancient dragon by a Bloodwalker, as I assess the massive dragon skull and the thing embedded in it with my power. I know this is what we’ve come down here to find, as I understand also that it will test us.
Test us, and discover if the truth we hold in our hearts is absolute—or flawed.
Who goes first?Bjorn regards me, understanding that this is the life-giving item we’ve come down here to find, this strange adornment embedded in the skull.
We touch it all together, on three,I say as my drakes spread out around me now, equidistant from the skull.Don’t go crazy and bite it or anything—a single talon will do. I’m pretty sure this thing was made by aBloodwalker, whatever it is. And Jarl Jorg is right: it’s gonna blast us with the Ancestors the moment we touch it. So get ready for some kind of metaphysical fight. Don’t touch the skull itself, because it carries the death-energy. And Ström… hold on to your air.
Will do, Captain.Ström thinks snarkily now, though I know he’s dead serious.
See you on the other side.Bjorn glances at me, reaching out a talon as Ström and I do, as well.
I love you, both of you. Whatever happens.I tell them as I glance at Bjorn, then Ström.
We know.Ström winks back as Bjorn rumbles his agreement. And then we’re all touching the blazing silver object, without touching the ancient skull.
And my world is blasted with light.
Who has touched my Truthstone?! Disturbing my bones from their ancient rest?A powerful voice assails me now from that massive light. Brightness floods me so powerfully, I feel like I’m being burned alive, though some part of me knows my body is simply floating in the water at the center of the bone pile.
My talon riveted to the silver artifact, as this magic traps me to it.
We haven’t disturbed your bones! We’ve touched this silver thing that calls to us, giving us a signature of life, rather than death.I shout inside my mind now as I blister in that ultra-bright metaphysical space, writhing in what feels like white fire, blazing all through me.
You speak rightly and tell the truth.The voice seems to settle. From the searing cacophony of brightness, I feel a presence watch me now. Massive, it’s like a towering white dragon of sunlight.
Endless as the stars themselves.
Who are you?I ask inside my mind now, as I feel Bjorn and Ström having their own conversations with this ancient dragon. I’m not party to them; it’s like we’re all having individual invasions by the ancient soul thatstill inhabits this skull, bound down here by her own amulet embedded in her bones.
Ström, Bjorn, and I are still connected, but we’re not able to hear what’s happening with each other. We’re cut off, each of us going through this alone.
As we’re judged by the ancient creature who now assails us.
Who I am is not important. It is who you are that matters. And the truth inside your heart.That bright dragon responds now, as I see the outline of a blazing white drakaina at the center of the light. I think I see a shimmer of golden lines upon her, or serrated gold scale-tips, but everything is so dazzling, I can’t be sure.
