A voice, sweet to the ears, called out to Vighon. Ensnared by fear as he was, the king mistook Reyna’s voice for Inara’s. Without meaning to, he clenched his fist as if he was grasping on to that which he truly fought for - what was in his heart. That was all he could ever do, what any of them could ever do.
Defiance quickly dominated his fear, reminding the king that, above all else, he was a stubborn northman. Fighting was in his bones.
Turning on his heel, Vighon faced Reyna’s expectant face before taking in the others. “I want anyone too old or too young to hold a sword inside The Dragon Keep!” he yelled over the Reavers’ cacophony. “Everyone else needs to prepare for battle! I want those catapults loaded and manned at all times,” he added, pointing to one of the mighty weapons situated inside Namdhor’s first tier. He paused, catching the eyes of a few Keepers and soldiers. “Make no mistake, our enemy is coming! They are coming for our homes, our way of life, our blood! But I say let them try! I am a northman! I will fight till the snow turns to sand, till the heavens rain fire, and I will fight till the very end of Verda! Are you with me?”
A chorus of cheers met the king’s speech, lending grit to his bones. If there was to be one final stand, he would be honoured to have such company.
Kassian was the first to break free of the warriors and approach the king. “We’re going to need more than encouragement and old catapults if we’re going to survive this. We should put a proper strategy together. I know where my people are best placed.”
“Agreed,” Vighon replied. “Though I would not listen to that a moment longer.”
Kassian glanced back at the Reavers before nodding his head up the main rise, to The Dragon Keep. “I believe the big house is yours.”
With the Galfreys and Kassian in tow, the king rode back to the keep with his head held high. By appearance alone, he informed the people of the north that he would stand up to anything that threatened them. Now and for evermore.
Only a few steps into the keep, Vighon felt a strange pressure against his right hip. He dismounted and placed a palm over the pouch on his belt, feeling the subtle vibrations of the diviner Inara had given him.
Reyna was the first among the others to notice. “Inara,” she said with some intensity. “You must speak with her!” Those five words came out as one.
“Your chamber,” Nathaniel suggested. “We will make sure you aren’t disturbed.”
“Perhaps we should all speak with her,” Reyna countered, clearly eager to commune with her daughter after so much time.
Nathaniel squeezed her wrist affectionately. “She gave Gideon’s diviner to Vighon - they must speak.” Reyna replied with the slightest bow of her head and made an effort to relax her muscles.
Vighon offered her a warm smile reserved for very few in his life. “I will relay every word,” he promised.
Rushing into his chamber, which was still cluttered with Alijah’s sundries, the king seated himself at his desk and placed the diviner on the wooden surface. He wasn’t accustomed to using the ancient form of communication, but this wasn’t his first time either. Cupping the black orb in both hands, he did his best to relax and allow the sphere to pull his mind inside.
It was there, on that ethereal bridge, that he saw the one who held his heart.
3
Instincts
As she waited in the quiet void between realities, Inara Galfrey felt her mind drifting, her focus untethered. This was, perhaps, the first moment of real silence she had experienced in some time and her uncaged thoughts were taking advantage.
Only minutes ago, she had stepped foot in another realm. That thought alone was nearly enough to numb the rest and hold her in awe. The mountainous tree. A starry sky of stalactites. Soil rich with crystals. It was like nothing she had ever seen nor could ever have imagined.
Naturally, that thought soured when she considered her brother’s intentions toward it. If Gideon was right, Alijah was going to bring down the world of magic and all the dragons with it. It was enough to send her thoughts spiralling.
Inara considered the multitude of paths that potentially lay before her and saw naught but violence, bloodshed, and death. One death in particular opened a new realm of nightmares for the Guardian. In her mind, she witnessed Athis dying over and over again, his soul burned with the tree.
Trapped in that dark place, Inara drew on that part of herself that was undoubtedly dragon in nature. She had often called on it in battle, though now she called on it to bring some form of cohesion to her wild thoughts. With the wisdom of a dragon and the calm of a predator that knew it was always at the top of the food chain, she banished the chaotic web of fears that had attempted to rule her.
The road to victory was hidden from her, but she believed it was victory that awaited her.
Her worst fears under control, Inara remembered where she was, her consciousness residing on the bridge between diviners. Unfortunately, that brought Vighon Draqaro to the forefront of her mind.
Vighon had always clawed at the human side of her, a side that had been dampened beneath her Dragornian bond but, now that she was her whole self, just thinking of the northman was guaranteed to bring out the reckless human in her. It didn’t help that she still failed to understand or know how to process all of her emotions.
And now, her attempt at control was ruined. As the seconds and minutes ticked by, she began to fear the worst. After all, Vighon had taken on a dangerous quest of his own in
