After he witnesses Zarya's death, Acrux uses his clairvoyance to identify Barholme as the agent behind Clan Lukra's suffering and chases after him. In dire straits, he finds his life saved by a divine power, which he traces back to the little gods.
TW: death
Acrux was arguing with Zarya the moment before she died. Neither of their hearts were really in it; Acrux knew that Zarya was only trying to rile him up by not-so-subtly asking about any “deaths in the family,” so he responded coolly. He wasn’t even looking at her in the moment, refusing to give her that much attention; but he still knew the instant she died, because she went quiet, not only to his ears but to his mind as well. Usually Zarya sounded like hunger, and bones cracking, but then she was gone and in her place a void roared in deafening silence. It was everywhere: Acrux couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. Somewhere among the void came a fae’s voice, hissing, A fitting punishment and other such things; that gave Acrux something to cling to, and he recovered himself, hearing screams and crashes from around the lair. That voice … he recognized it suddenly as Barholme’s, knew Barholme for the architect of their misery, and chased after it, taking to the air and hurtling between the trees. If he could catch Barholme, maybe this madness would end. But he couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from; it seemed all around him, centered inextricably in the void that filled the Inner Sanctum entirely.
Barholme! he heard, from Aridatha, and he turned and raced towards her quarters, drawing in his wings so that his sinuous body could pass through the trees. But he was too late. He heard her cry out, heard her call for help, and then he heard her die. Even before he poked his head into Aridatha’s quarters he knew that he could do nothing for her -- nothing but avenge her. He began to search the area for any sign of Barholme. Perhaps he would be of more help elsewhere; he might be able to ease his clan’s suffering instead of avenging it. But the idea didn’t even occur to him. A fire burned in his blood, a rage that Acrux had never truly felt before -- his disgust with Zarya had been but its pale shadow. It would not allow him to stop or hesitate; he would throw himself at Barholme until one of them died, would happily break the fae’s tiny body between his talons and wipe him off the face of Sornieth -- if only he could find him.
Sovari, Soraya, and Scura, the newest permababy projects. Unlike @radiant-flutterbun’s Naperone, who is a rat bastard in general, but at the moment, mainly to his 3 kids, Necrophades, the father of these three may be morally ambiguous, but damn it if he isn’t a good and doting dad.
Sovari was from @deadwapiti-fr’s Clan, the daughter of the Raven King, Ulraunt. She was seen as unworthy and so her mother fled with her and her 2 siblings and when she came upon Necrophades at the border of the Starfall Isles and the Scarred Wasteland, she gave her to him and fled back into the Wasteland. She was the third to be found.
Soraya was from LunarGypsy on FR’s Clan. Her egg was Shade-Touched, so when she hatched, she looked somewhat terrifying and was cast out. She was also born with amazing Arcane abilities, the power to see multiverses, and when she saw her own, she saw that Necrophades was a big part of many of hers, so she saught him out and was so weak and tired at the end of her journey, her life was in jeopardy, but sheived and became part of Necrophades’ little family. She was the second.
Scura was from @the-light-beyond’s Clan, of two drifters that just came to have their eggs and continue moving. While they were wandering after Scura’s birth, Scura got separated from them and started to wail and cry. That attracted scavengers… Hungry ones. As they were about to attack, Necrophades swept them with his giant tail, slashed at them with his claws, and roared at them so loud, his teeth rattled. She was the very first.
Spread intentionally by infected dragons like Sovari, the strange plague threatens to annihilate Clan Lukra. A stranger goes unnoticed in the chaos as Aridatha scrambles to save whoever she can, warning Isildur, Arven, and Halamshiral. An infected Cobalt attacks Andon, finally revealing the spiral’s presence to the rest of the clan. // read on dA
Sovari felt the new fire running through her veins, and it made her feel better, more alive, than she’d been in ages. She was tired of hiding, bored of observing. It was time for her to do something, and the best thing was, clearly, sharing her fresh elan with others.
Nobody had even noticed her in Talva’s chamber, not even Acrux, who thought he was so smart, so magical. Sovari’s talent for being inconspicuous had probably contributed to her recent ennui -- no one made an effort to engage her, because no one even realized she was there. But now it would help her move through the lair without interference.
Starting from Talva’s chamber, the first place to go was two floors above. Intent on his work, Weythran didn’t even notice when Sovari stole up behind him and planted a rainbow-fire handpaint on his tail. Then it was off to Xylia’s, painting a glowing trail across the wildclaw’s own creations, one that she was sure to exclaim over -- and touch -- when she turned from her current work. And onwards: Aridatha and Lioska were out, but Sovari was able to share her bounty with Nessa and Sunfall, and on, and on …
*
In the confusion, no one noticed a blue-winged imperial perched at the top of one of the crystal ridges that encircled Clan Lukra’s lair, watching the bursts of rainbow light. There were many of those now, leaping up from disparate points in the clan: the watcher mentally mapped the spread of the plague, humming tunelessly to themself as they did so. They would need more data, of course …
Cautiously, the imperial began to pick their way down the ridge, into the valley.
*
Shade, Shade, Shade.
Aridatha dashed through the lair, watching in horror as flares of that awful light went off in the trees, crackled across the canopy above and coursed through the ground below. She’d managed to meet up with -- or spontaneous run into -- some clan members, though she didn’t really have any more to tell them than to run, something they really ought to be able to figure out for themselves. Geras she’d sent to try and salvage the familiars, in the hopes that her established duty to the beasts might help overcome her grief. The guardian had gone off in the right direction, at least, and nodded, but Aridatha had no idea whether she would actually do it. She couldn’t worry about that now.
There were no eggs in the hatchery; Aridatha thanked the Arcanist for that, for one less fear on her plate. She’d also been lucky enough to encounter Lioska fairly quickly. The wildclaw had immediately grasped the idea of emergency and contagion, even if there hadn’t been time to give her all the details, and run off. Aridatha wasn’t completely sure what Lioska actually planned to do about the emergency and contagion, but Lioska had a level head and some good military training: Aridatha trusted her to think of something helpful.
The rest of the clan, however …
As Aridatha clambered up into Isildur’s chamber, she saw Rakgi diving in the pond, the glow spreading under his skin telling her that it was too late to warn him. In the distance, the same light forked through the veins of a large, dark wing, though it vanished between the trees too quickly for Aridatha to tell whose. Don’t let it be Geras -- don’t let us lose Geras because I told her to go after the beasts instead of fleeing. Peeking out from her own room, Zura made rather frightened inquiring noises at Aridatha, but there was no time to find the coatl a translator: Aridatha just gestured at her to run, and she seemed to get the message, jumping down and scurrying away on her tiny legs.
“Aridatha? I would most appreciate being informed as to what is happening.”
Aridatha barely restrained herself from a curt response: now was not the time for Isildur’s customary wordiness. Instead, she said, “There’s some kind of … disease, or contagious magic, spreading through the clan. It affects dragons and inanimate objects, and it … it’s deadly, we think.”
Clever as always, Isildur grasped the situation quickly. “You want me to move the hoard to safety?”
“Not the whole hoard.” That would be an impossible task: it had taken the clan’s largest and strongest members dozens of trips to bring all the accumulated products of all their labor over the mountains to the new lair. “Just grab the currency, the valuables. Don’t worry about the familiars; Geras is on it. And, Isildur? Don’t martyr yourself. Get out quickly, and don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
Isildur snorted delicately. “Trust me, Aridatha, I have no intention of dying for a handful of trinkets.”
“Good. Anyone else you run into, tell them to run. Doesn’t matter where, just get away from the lair.”
A frown. “You don’t want to set a rendezvous point for afterwards? Sounds like a recipe for chaos.”
Aridatha shook her head. “The infected dragons, they’re … they’re lucid, but something’s wrong with them. I think they might be deliberately spreading … whatever it is. So I don’t want to give them a target.”
“Very well.” With uncharacteristic brevity, Isildur departed, leaving Aridatha to a moment’s quiet.
What now? Aridatha had initially planned to go to Cypress and Illyan, to seek the journalists’ help in spreading word of the disaster, but she doubted anyone remained unaware now -- sending those two back into the lair would risk their lives needlessly. Of course, knowing Cypress, he might have gone in anyway, just to investigate … Was it time for Aridatha herself to run? A captain goes down with her ship … But she was not going to die here. The metaphorical ship meant less than its crew, and they would need her in the days to come. Assuming, of course, that she could do any better as a leader in the future -- she hadn’t exactly prepared for this …
Pushing the thought away -- you can wallow in your own inadequacy when there’s no immediate danger -- Aridatha decided that as long as she was here, she might at least try to warn the rest of the building. She’d already seen on her way up that Moros’ ground-floor chamber was empty, but the sound-mages Arven and Halamshiral lived above Isildur. They were, in fact, her parents, though none of them really found that particularly significant -- as evinced by the fact that Isildur had felt no need to ensure their safety. Aridatha scrambled up the trunk of the structure’s central tree.
Arven stood in the center of the room, watching his delicate harps and flutes vibrate on the walls. He turned to Aridatha as she entered. “What is all this commotion? I was trying to work.”
“You need to get out of here,” Aridatha said shortly. “There’s a magical plague spreading across the lair. Take what you can carry, but don’t let it slow you down -- just go.”
Arven started to ask a question, but Aridatha was already gone, climbing further up into the thin branches above, where she had to balance herself carefully. These areas were not designed for the use of any dragons above fae size, but she could see Halamshiral’s nest above her …
“Help!” The cry came from Cobalt’s nearby lean-to, though it was higher-pitched than the imperial’s typical voice, and sounded absolutely desperate. “Please, help me!”
Pausing only to shout a warning at Halamshiral’s nest, just in case the fae was in there, Aridatha spread her wings and glided into the lean-to, where she found a harshly glowing Cobalt casually crushing a blue spiral in his claws. The tilt of Cobalt’s head was more curious than malicious, as if he honestly just wanted to see what would happen to the smaller dragon’s body if he kept squeezing; and Aridatha had never seen the spiral before in her life.
That didn’t slow her intervention, though. She wasn’t large enough or magically skilled enough to fight Cobalt head-on, but she fluttered into the imperial’s face and threw sparks at his eyes, distracting him enough that the spiral managed to squirm out of his grip. Having escaped, he stood, panting, on the ground before Cobalt, staring up at the imperial in bewilderment; Aridatha dropped down next to him and shoved him towards the exit. “Go! Now!”
Cobalt shook the sparks from his eyes and roared, and the spiral at last fled with Aridatha on his tail. She glanced back, to see if Cobalt was in pursuit, and saw him flashing and spasming with rainbow light instead; quickly, she threw herself at the spiral, hurling both of them behind a large mirror. An explosion, and when she peered out again Cobalt was gone, leaving only the odd shred of that awful glow.
“Cobalt …” the spiral said, clearly in shock.
“Who are -- never mind. Questions for later. Just run, get out of here -- not that way!” This, when the spiral would have fluttered for a crevice in the lean-to’s construction, one where the multicolored fire was already spreading. “This thing is everywhere; there’s no hiding from it. Just get out of the lair, and we’ll all meet back up later.”
The spiral nodded quickly, several times, seeming to absorb the information a little more with each jerky movement, and then he was gone. And maybe it was time for Aridatha to get out too.
Good news, I found a new outfit for Sovari so I can move him to the Forgotten City soon. Bad news, I can now no longer accurately refer to him as “local fashion disaster”
