Legend of Ransera

Glade 13, 123

The northern coast of Ailos lay as far distant from Dawn Peak as one could go without crossing the sea; but although mortal eyes could not make out the mountains from this distance, the golden halo of their power was still visible as the sky darkened. The light and the twin prisms of water and wind combined to encircle much of the horizon, leaving a liminal luminescence which seemed, from above the clouds, almost to cover the whole island. Perhaps it was with this very sigil that the ancient god-queens of the isle had Scrivened the protections which had enwrapped Ailos centuries after their demise? Perhaps it was just a mirage.

Even from the skies, it had been easy enough to spot the stretch of beach which Imogen Ward had described. It was a long and rocky shoreline, fine to look at but inappropriate for any sort of port activity. The sea had worn away the coast here, leaving spires of raw sedimentary rock jutting skyward in strange shapes. The elder witch had used the positions of mountains for reference; as Norani recalled, she tended to travel as an albatross, well below the clouds. From that vantage, it was little trouble to zero in on the couple miles of shoreline the witch had worked her rite upon.

After some time, she even located the precise spot. On a little plateau overlooking the sea, Norani found a small stone monument which was obviously artificial, though its edges and contours were long worn by wind and rain. The inscription had become faded, but someone had recently taken a sharp chisel to it--or perhaps not a chisel--and restored some of the words.

If no on'uv io oeiong uvnough, vonaho vonao ie foi?

The beach where Deravecia had slept for unknown centuries was empty now, lacking any obvious signs of the dragon. That was odd, in and of itself. Though the greens of Drathera took pains to avoid disturbing the people around and about them, the lairs of dragonkind were usually charged and changed by the vast energies of their dragoncraft. For an old wyrm to have sat here for so long and made no impression... it was as if her spirit had been completely absent.

Almost absent, anyway.

Norani's supernal senses alerted her to a slight imbalance in the weft and weave of the local elements, a burgeoning of metallic aether. Perhaps half a mile down the beach from the weathered marker, there was a section of tidal pools, and in those pools lay... iron. Iron scales, to be precise. Hundreds of them, shed infrequently by the brooding dragon, but too heavy for ordinary tidal pressure to pull out to sea. These had been trapped by time and tide, left to rust beneath a thin film of seawater.

As soon as Norani found this, the last trace of the dragon's long slumber, the spirits spoke to her:

"Windwalker," burbled the voices of the tide, unbothered and endlessly content, "Come further down; there are many forgotten things stranger and more wonderful than iron. Long and long I gave her my gift, but still she did not stay for ever."

"Windwalker." grumbled the spirit of the sand, almost too faint to be heard, "You have just missed her; she was here only a moment ago. But the earth no longer knows her, for she has fled to the elden bowers of the sun."

"Windwalker, Windwalker." said the spirit of iron, "You walk a dangerous path. Deravaecia has risen, but her heart beats to the whispers of the rust. You have heard the words, the cruel and secret song. Iron is the child of murder and dominion, and she dwells in the palace of the one who was once her master. If you go there, you may die."

"Wheeeeeeeeeeee!" said the spirit of the breeze, which hadn't been paying much attention to any of this.

In her heart, Norani could feel it. Though the elements were warning her, but they were not concealing anything; Deravaecia had flown south and east, closer to the center of Ailos, seeking some part of history, of her former life, to connect with.

As Norani soared over the island of Ailos, leaving the temple and Imogen behind her, she thought on this task she had taken on. She needed to find this woman, this dragon, and convince her to come to Imogen's aid. She truly had no idea how she would go about it, but she would have to see it through. Imogen needed her, and she needed Imogen. Witches of a feather live long together, probably.

When Norani spotted the rocky beach that Imogen had described, she angled down toward it. But she also remembered the words she'd been given, the patience she'd cultivated, the lessons learned in the darkness. She took a circuitous course around the beach from on high, calling to the winds and the sands and the waters, letting them know that she was here now. She felt their responses, warmly welcoming the elementalist as she scrutinized the beach from above. It didn't appear to be dangerous to her untrained eyes and there was certainly no dragons slumbering upon it.

She flew down and alighted upon the stones.

She walked around for a while, getting a feel for the lay of the land and pouring her aether into her surroundings. She felt something odd, strange shapes inflicted upon a stone, shapes that were not caused by nature, not caused by the spirits that tend to the elements. A hop, skip, and a jump aided by wind brought her to the little monument.

"If no one is strong enough, who was it for?" Norani spoke this aloud, chewing on the statement carved into this monument. Her nose wiggled as she stared at the monument, and then she spoke to the stone it was carved from, asking about its state. It grumped, unhappy in its condition, but would wait for it to erode. It would be more content if the metal would wear off, it kept attracting spirits that were confused upon their arrival.

Norani cocked her head, confused. Metal? She didn't see any metal here. It was such a rare resource in Ecith, she'd only seen it a handful of times. She called to Crumble, and the chubby little earthen elemental arrived with a chirrup. "Do you notice any metal in this stone?"

It walked up to the stone, looking at it, dancing around it, before sniffing at the engravings. Then it stepped back and nodded eagerly. Norani pulled some aether from the spirit, enmeshing them into her nose. She could smell the stone now. But there was something else there too. Faint, but there nonetheless. A deeper sniff, and she knew, or rather she knew via her connection with Crumble, that it was iron.

She then called to the winds, throwing this scent out to them as bait and had them seek more for her. It wasn't long until more of the scent wafted toward her, and she thanked the winds for being so helpful. And so, her and Crumble made their way down the beach, to a pool tainted reddish brown by the rust she could smell. Scales. Iron scales.

This must be from her.

And then the spirits spoke, always eager to help her. As the seas spoke, Norani responded, "I will come, I ask that you wait for me. I must flow this way for now." And the spirits understood. As the sands spoke, Norani responded, "Thank you. May you rest well." She could feel the tiredness of a beach constantly being eroded. But she knew these sands would form something greater, eons from now. And they would wait patiently and endure this until then.

As Iron spoke, listened carefully. She did not know metal yet, had not learned its ways. It was an unknown element to her but she wished to understand. A warning given, a location given. She thanked Iron. Then she offered it some of her aether, "Might you join me? Help me to better understand the ways of iron. I am still growing and iron is foreign to me." She remembered the pain in her friends when she snatched away by the darkness, and she was hesitant to bring spirits into more danger because of it.

Crumble clunkered up her form and perched on her shoulder. "Rocks strong."

"We can be stronger, together. Maybe no one needs to die this day."

After she received Iron's answer, she took off, flying in the way told to her. As she went, she whipped the winds of the islands into a mild frenzy, stirring up as much scent as possible, and calling for them to bring more of the iron smell toward her. And as she traveled, dismissed the winds coming from abandoned Imperial vehicles, dismissed those from a smithy near the temple, and continued to parse away the trails until only one remained in the direction she was going. It was strong, it was fresh.

She was flying toward an unknown danger, but she was not flying into combat. She was not here to harm, but to convince. But still, it wouldn't do to get herself killed. So as she went, she Synergized with the winds she so often flew with, and started down toward what looked to be a long forgotten set of ruins overgrown by the jungles. And the Orkhan of wind slipped through the canopy with ease, still a ways from the ruins, and alighted upon the loamy soil. At the very least, if a big piece of a metal came her way, she was nothing but wind and it would pass right through her.

She looked over at Crumble who was floating nearby, gumming at the bark of a tree. She might have to deflect attacks from him though. And so, the team started toward the ruins, hoping that this Deravaecia might be amenable to listening.

To Norani's surprise, perhaps, the spirit of iron was slow to respond.

The element of metal was a curious one. She'd sensed it before, of course, especially in Imogen's many weapons, but this was the first time it had felt so singularly present. It was more obstinate than Earth, in some ways, less yielding than the stone and more apt to take an opposing stance to anything which appeared... but that was all on the surface. Norani could feel, in the heart of the iron, that it yearned for shape, for heat, for a guiding hand.

"Save them both, Windwalker." Iron replied, slowly, "Save the dragon and the witch, and I will walk with you where you must go."

There was no more conversation. Metal could be shaped to any form, like water, but only if the conditions were right- otherwise, it would not bend to all the winds of the world put together. Anything else was wasted time and breath.


The trail of Iron took Norani for many miles. For all that it was called the isle of dawn, AIlos was more like a small continent unto itself, with mountains and vales, heavily-forested in the same too-small jungle growth as had covered the shores of Southern Ecith. Even in the form of a swift gale, the young orkhan girl was abroad for hours before she found the place she'd been seeking.

This ruin was quite remote- sequestered in a small vale on the northern side of Ailos, weeks of travel by foot from the old Dawnmartyr temple which was the isle's main reference. The surviving foundations were stone carved out of the mountains and sheathed in marble, much of which had been eaten away by the years. It was not quite large enough to be a city, but would have made a stupendously huge village by modern standards, and the entire affair was built as a series of terraced circles, descending onto what must once have been a spectacular artificial lake surrounding a marble building.



Although the buildings were in total disrepair, the system of canals between them was still surprisingly beautiful, if algae-filled.

Historians and Librarians in Drathera said that Ailos had once been a great hub of civilization; not industry, in the way of the lands to the distant north, or even of the old Boundless Empire of the Hytori, but a place of solemn reverence, with majestic temples celebrating the sun and the dawn. Much of those had been lost even before the Graveplague came and the Dawnmartyrs were given free reign of the isle, and the followers of Light had never been so numerous that they could truly settle the entire place.

The Imperium's invasion, however, had spanned a great swath of the land, even those places only lightly-defended by Arcas' followers. The invading forces had done fantastic damage to the crumbling remains of Ysadre's empire, and many of the ruins on Ailos bore the brunt of both time and Imperial cannonades. Here, however, the detritus of invasion had been dragged out of the ruined city and piled on the periphery with surprising violence- the furrows in the soil where various bits of abandoned ordinance and even entire vehicles had been dragged out were still fresh.



In the center of the ruined temple-village was the artificial lake, and that remained a spectacular sight. The marble on it was mostly intact, and though the lake was now clouded with mud and plant growths, the water had an unusual luster which seemed to tug at Norani's spirit. This had been a holy place, once, no doubt about it.



Now, though?

Although Norani could not see the dragon from here, there was no doubt that Deravaecia was in that temple building. Even miles away, the young elementalist could sense the overwhelming dragoncraft of her presence. The elementals accompanying Norani grew increasingly unsettled as they approached, the very air and clouds becoming increasingly wary.

For all of her life, Norani had known about dragons. Greens and reds and faery dragons and other flights all coexisted in Drathera, and made a great playground of Northern Ecith, and they were largely considered a good omen by the orkhan- distant cousins whose very presence made the world brighter and more energetic, something to celebrate. But those were the flights of dragons who loved mortals, who were most fascinated by and supportive of their brief-lived kin.

Iron dragons were different. They were a threat. Not in the sense of a large animal or stinging insect, which inspire a nebulous fear of pain, but one very specific threat:

Do as I say, or I will kill you.

This was the aura which had so unsettled a Primal that it had decided not to return to Ailos. Deravaecia's presence was just that threat, felt in the very fabric of existence, loud and powerful enough to envelop a space of miles.

And it was this threat which Norani felt now, looking into that ancient city. The iron dragon hadn't seen her, maybe didn't even know she was there yet, but her threat hung in the air like a physical force. She had come here to be alone, not to be disturbed. And if Norani chose to disturb her anyway...?

Do as I say, or I will kill you.

In the ruins of the old retreat, Deravaecia stood in Orkhan guise and gazed into the lake. In a way, it was cowardice. She'd spent centuries inside her own mind, apart from the world, and having been abruptly torn back to reality, the first thing she did was try to escape it anew.

Still, she couldn't help it. By the time she'd gone to sleep up north this place had already been all but abandoned, its purpose fled with the death of her queen, but it had still been a brutal shock to see the once-glorious buildings in shambles, the holy lake defiled and flooding. To take a few months to grieve for such a profound loss...

It was amongst such sad nostalgia, however, that something else from the distant past reached her. Something much less welcome. A smell.

Her nose twitched. She blinked, looking up from the water and into the ruins beyond.

"...Achaka?"

The Windwalker had felt the dragon's presence long before she had even reached her current position, well outside the range of the ruins. She could smell it upon the winds, she could feel it in the soil beneath her bare feat, the water in the air tasted of metal. All of the elements here were a bit unnerved by the overwhelming presence of on such as She, one who could wield an element that was not so common here, and do so with a power unrivaled for millennia.

Nature preferred to have balance, and Dragons could most certainly tip the scales, to or from that equilibrium.

A metal dragon, iron nonetheless, was a formidable force. They were rare to visit or live in Drathera, often solitary creatures, if the stories were to be believed. And Norani could now feel, in the bones, that formidable was a polite term. This spirit, this energy over the world felt indomitable. She took a deep breath, breathing in the iron touched air, holding it within her lungs, despite being made of wind, and breathing was not necessary. She was not here to dominate, not here to defeat.

She was here to learn, to listen, and to speak on behalf of a dear friend.

But she needed time to think, to plan, to listen to herself and to this dreadful aura. And so, just as she had with the mountain of Drathera, Norani decided to grow still, to feel the world around her, and to let it in. She dropped her Synergy, closing her eyes as she crossed her legs, hovering there in the sticky air of the jungle. Crumble climbed up into her nap, making a noise somewhat akin to a cat's purr, but if that purr was gravelly and froglike.

She pushed through her fear of this aura. It spoke of death and disobedience. And she let it wash through her, resonating with the metals in her blood, in her bones, the little bits of metal that was in all life, often unseen and unnoticed. Do as I say, or I will kill you. Norani knew that there must be a sadness behind those words. She'd met enough people, veterans and survivors of the war, that were haunted not only by those they failed to save, but by those they'd killed. Several of her parents had fought in the war, and all carried specters with them. And they did not hide those lessons from their children.

Still, Norani did not know what it felt like to kill a person, and she hoped she never would.

A flash of a memory, of her staring at Juno with those black, bottomless eyes ripped her from her meditation.

She sighed. Could she kill the Unknown if the time came for it? It was alive, just as she was alive, just as Crumble was, just as the soil and the air and the sun above were alive. Did it deserve to die? Did she deserve to carry the weight of its death? Was that an honor or a failure?

Do as I say, or I will kill you.

Norani summoned one of the more courageous winds around here, and gave it a message, to carry as close as it could to the dragoness.... No. She shook her head, she didn't want to cause needless harm, even if to "just a wind". She blinked back into her wind Synergy form and spoke the words, placing them within a piece of herself and sent the wind racing toward the center of this oppressive aura.

"I seek to do as you say, if I only knew what that were. I come seeking an exchange of words and of wisdom. I am Norani Windwalker and I await your answer, Deravaecia."

As the wind of herself traveled, Norani and Crumble floated up above the tree line, making themselves obvious and known to the world around them, maintaining their meditative posture, facing the ruins, watching and waiting.

The solitary dragon's quiet inquiry to nothing was answered moments later, by a rush of air and aether. Deravaecia had learned her arts in the old days, before Semblers had come to prominence--in fact, she still associated the art with the smug devils of the deep wastes--so she perceived the unseen world by feeling and scent. To her sensitive nose, Norani's answer came in a sudden wash of smells, most alien, some familiar.

It was the smell of Orkhan, to be sure, but young. Achaka's essence was there, but on the fringes only; he was not personally present. The dragon was surprised to find herself relieved. For all that she hadn't yet found a reason to live, she realized that she did not want to die. And she couldn't imagine any other reason the old man would come.

The other scents presented a heady bouquet- sadness, loneliness, inner turmoil, and the scent of elementals, strong as any such confluence of elemental power she'd tasted since before the Sundering. She sorted through the tatters of Norani's aura with one part of her mind, while the rest listened to the message conveyed upon the wind.

"Words and wisdom..."

The girl knew her name, which meant either Achaka had sent her there, or she'd gotten it from Imogen. Neither of them people she particularly wanted to speak with. It was tempting to say no. One roar and this Norani would get the message, no doubt about that. She'd been wise enough to send a polite message before approaching, she'd certainly take Deravaecia's meaning.

But-

Well, what was she waiting here for, if not for this? The old mistress of these ruins wasn't coming back, not if she waited here for ten thousand years. If she wanted solitude, she could always go north, to one of the uninhabited sea islands- or maybe south and east, back to the ancient lands of her youth. No, she wanted something here yet, if she could only work it out. Besides, there was something intriguing about this Norani's scent. Something dark and warm and terrible mixed with those smells of fear and despair, emotions to which her breed was naturally drawn.

The Iron dragon raised her voice, using her dragoncraft to increase it until it could be heard easily throughout the entire vale. It was a cold voice, and halting from disuse, but there was nothing but iron confidence behind it. "Approach, Windwalker. But take heed how you importune."



When Norani did near, she found the dragon still in Orkhan form, standing on the weathered stone landing leading into the flooded ruin. Deravaecia was enormous, the size of a dragonborn Ecithian, and her skin was unusually pale and leathery, studded with telltale metallic scales. The dragon didn't bother to turn to track Norani's approach, relying upon senses other than sight- instead, she kept her eyes focused on the water.

If the elementalist got close enough, the dragon would speak again, proffering some explanation.

"Once, this pool reflected all things from above. Not in detail- it was useless for planning any campaign. Each time I approached, it rankled in my heart to see the useless artistry of it. Yet... now the magic has long faded, and I find myself sore afflicted by the loss. How queer." Deravaecia exhaled a long breath, with unnatural force even for her frame, causing ripples throughout the water for a hundred meters in all direction, then turned to face Norani.

"State your business, then."

The words boomed across the land, steely and unyielding as they crashed against Norani's ears and aura. She winced, for while Deravacia was one of metal and rigidity, Norani was one of movement and fluidity. It was difficult to even just hear her words, feel her aura, being so opposing in nature. Crumble placed a stony hand upon her arm and she nodded. This was a path of better understanding, like all the others she wished to take.

She needed to become still, patient in order to understand Earth better, still just a Pebble in the scheme of the world. To become iron, she would need to understand it first, and to understand it, she would have to go to it with bravery in her heart.

Easier said than done with how this dragon shook the world around them.

And so, Norani and Crumble flew in the direction of the dragon. She let her eyes scan the world below, seeing more of these long lost ruins that littered this continent, and coming upon, and over, a lake, of sorts. Ruins that provided a home to new elements instead of people of old. She saw the dragoness there, staring pensively into the depths.

Norani and Crumble alighted on the shore near to Deravaccia and approached. And when the dragon began to speak, Norani stopped and listened. Her words instantly struck a pained chord in Norani's heart. Another Ecithian heart scarred by war and the harsh practicalities of it. Useless artistry? Never would such a world be uttered by an Ecithian who was happy and whole.

As she faced Norani, the Windwalker faced her in kind. She did not understand iron yet, but she knew that Ecithians treat one another as equals. It mattered not if Norani was speaking to Achaka Lonelyblade, a tired foreigner with a mess of red hair, or a hurting dragonness. Perhaps that was a first lesson for iron. Sword meets sword.

"I come to seek your aid on behalf of Imogen. She is ailed by a magical plague and is seeking to be cured, by the healers in Drathera. However, to do so would require traveling and attracting the Silent Fisher who would slay many to get to her. I am here to ask for you to provide escort for her, so that the Silent Fisher would not be inclined to attack those around Imogen."

This was the length and breadth of the request, of the business demanded. And Norani decided to give more, to open herself up more, just as she had with Yeva, just as she was learning was the only way to heal from her own scars.

"Imogen is a dear friend and mentor of mine. We have been through so much, and she has taught me many things. And she struggles to open up, to ask for help from others, oft preferring to the one giving the help."

Norani smiled as she peered out toward the water.

"I wonder what this pool might show these days, with this land being in such disarray, with the people here struggling so."

She looked back at Deravaccia, "I cannot speak on a debt that Imogen would be willing to give, but I will speak for myself. I am Norani Windwalker, Ward to Achaka Lonelyblade..." She closed her eyes, bravery, be firm and direct, sharing that which she heard on whispers in the winds of Drathera, but never said to her directly. She reopened them, staring fiercely at the dragonness, "The Unknown Touched. I will be she who rids that great darkness that has plagued our people for longer than you've existed."

She gave a pause, "And if there is anything I may do, or give, to earn your assistance to help save my friend, I will do it, I will give it."

Deravaecia's mien was nothing like the faces of those dragons which Norani had come to know in her happy childhood days. The dragon-ork seemed almost sculpted of iron itself, cold, unyielding, and absolutely insensible to the words of any lesser race. As Norani spoke, the dragon hardly moved- her chest rose and fell with breath, but otherwise she could have passed for a statue.

Norani's words were earnest, heartfelt, and selfless... and they seemed to break and fade upon the dragon's expressionless face, one by one. Silence seemed to swallow up each of the Windwalker's impassioned pleas, until it felt like an assault on the young elementalist in and of itself. Words were a sort of elementalism, after all. A confabulation of winds, moulded and arranged and directed to where they might gently sway another. Words could disrupt a gust, or a candleflame, or cause ripples in water, and given a thousand, thousand years, maybe they could even scar the living rock.

But the wind did nothing at all to iron.

Still, after a time, the corner of Dervaecia's lip curled up, the barest quirk. She shifted her burning gaze away from Norani's face and back to the pool.

"Lonelyblade, is it? How fitting. Ward Norani, if the great general knew you were here, I can assure you he would not second your request. But..."

Deravaecia took a step forward; not towards Norani, but towards the edge of the temple platform. The dragon moved quickly, so quickly that Norani could not follow it without transforming her own mind and eye to move faster than any mortal reflex, and stood suddenly at the edge. Once there, she knelt, a surprisingly graceful motion for a woman who looked for all the world like she ought to be creaking every time she crooked a finger.

"It would be a shame if I were the only one left to remember this bit of art. Watch." The dragon reached down, stretching her arm until a single clawed finger reached the still water below. Then she spoke, her voice echoing through the world in a way which almost knocked Norani over.

"Waken, dormant magic. Glow once again, before you are lost for ever. This I demand."

The magic of the lake was long defunct, having begun to fade before the modern Commonwealth was a spark in the minds of its founders. It had been laid down in runes and will by some long-vanished god-queen, a marvel even in a time of marvels and legends. Its workings were hellishly complex, involving divine calculations to harness the invisible currents of the Aetherium and confluences of sigils and symbols which only a handful of Hytori archmagi could be expected to understand in this age.

Nevertheless, the function of the pool was actually quite simple. It just displayed the world from the perspective of the sun, high and distant.

Deravaecia's dragoncraft swept aside the impossible complexity and age of the lake's enchantment and thrust it momentarily back into reality. The entire lake in the center of the ruined city lit at once, blue-tinged light streaming out in a miles-long aura, illuminating the entire vale in an unearthly, celestial light.

The blue-lit water slowly resolved into other colors, then shapes. The continents of Ransera unfolded before Norani's eyes, so vast that she could not see the whole of each one even in the circumscribed area of the lake, yet so far distant that she could make out almost no recognizable landmarks. None save- there! There was Ecith, and, unmistakably, the great mountain of Drathera. The world swept around that one marker in a heady tide of greens and blues and reds, save for where it was hidden by clouds.

"When I was young-" Deravaecia had somehow moved again, now standing on the other side of Norani, "I flew up, high. Very high. Past the clouds. And when I looked down, I saw this. And I fell in love." It was still visible, in the old dragon's eyes. Empty orbs of iron shimmered with the reflected light, and Deravaecia's face was plaintive in its adoration of the planet's surface.

"I swore an oath to my Dam, that I would protect it. The world. I thought that was what your kind was for. To war and conquer and fight without end, so that Ransera would endure forever." It was Malgar's style, after all. Make something brutal and terrible to suffer forever, so that it could preserve all the beauties of the world in so doing. The Lord of Suffering had been the architect of the world for which her great matron had the most respect, aside from Eikean and Naori themselves.

"I could not do it. Ward Norani, make no grand proclamations about what you will do to the Unknown. Remember that when you have given your word you have--by definition--failed to keep it." The dragon chuckled at that, like that bit of wordplay was the funniest joke ever spoken. She cast an iron-scaled arm out over the glowing map of Ransera, indicating it generally.

"The follies of my masters of old persists. Your people are too soft to survive them, and I am too weak to do what must be done to strengthen them. Let your friend Imogen find a resting place here, among the graves of gods and kings. Or let her travel to Drathera, and let Rekaka remind the people that there is much yet to fear in this world. But no good will come of dragging the worst reminders of Ecith's failings back into the light. They will not thank either of you for it."

Deravaecia sighed, more heavily this time. Whatever power she'd used to re-awaken the lake's magic had clearly taken a great toll on the old dragon. She turned back to look at Norani.

"Do not repeat your friend's mistake. Let the past lie."

Norani waited as her words fell upon the impassive statue of iron. She was not used to such slowness, such a lack of reaction of any kind. After all, her people wore their every thought, every emotion upon their faces and their breasts, and she was one who worked quickly, or tried to do so at least. Crumble placed a stony hand upon her calf and she nodded. Patience was what earth was teaching her, and perhaps patience was the language of iron as well. And so, she took a breath, and she set about to waiting and being, and not sending her mind racing like the winds that oft answered her call.

And when the slightest hint of a smile formed, the Windwalker was quick to notice, quicker to listen. Interesting, it seems that Deravacia and Lonelyblade were familiar with one another. And perhaps she was right in that he would not support her endeavor. Norani did not actually know the man that well, she served him as a way to ready herself, and the Commonwealth, for her mission. His style of training largely consisted of letting her make her own choices, but making sure she saw to the consequences afterward. She moved to speak when Deravacia blinked forward.

Norani herself blinked back in response, with her eyes though. One moment the dragonness was there, then she was over there. What speed was that? That faster than any of her winds, that was faster than the lightning she herself had once caught and mastered. Was it even speed or something else?

And as Deravacia spoke, the seed of an idea began to form within Norani. And as she spoke, Norani was tossed backwards by the sheer force of power emitted for such a small task. And as the image formed clear upon the surface, Norani's eyes widened in awe. She stepped forward and looked out over the world, recognizing the lonely mountain in the midst of their massive continent. She knew it to be large, knowing the time it took her to travel around various parts of it, but to see it in such a way was awe inspiring. And humbling. It was true beauty, and she could see why the dragonness had fallen in love. Upon looking at the small northern continent, she found herself surprised.

"Has each empire that crushed itself against our shores done so simply because their lands were too small for them?"

It was rhetorical, of course, and Deravacia seemed to pull a response from the small Orkhan. A lesson hard learned, a warning given, history threatening to repeat itself, over and over again.

"It's heart breaking to know that when you look down at the world such as this and think that you have failed. To think that all of us within Ecith have failed." Softer now, "And maybe we have. Maybe your masters, whomever they might have been, left too many scars upon this world. Maybe you were once too weak to strengthen those of us that are here now. I know I've been too weak for too long, and I've failed at seemingly everything I've tried to do."

She cast her eyes up, away from the vision pool, up into the sky.

"My friend made no mistake, she woke you for a reason, instead of letting you lie there on that beach, a remnant of a time past and soon to be forgotten."

Norani took in a deep breath, knowing that her next words might very well be her last. If this dragon wished to kill her, here and now, it might be the easiest thing for one as strong as she. But while iron seeks iron to test itself, it always answers to fire. Norani thought back to when her and Imogen were of one aether in that desert conflagration, thought back to the purifying flames, at the lessons taught by Crackle afterwards.

"But unlike you, I'm not content with remaining a failure, with giving up and rusting over, with allowing my name to be forgotten by loved ones and friends." Her gaze sidled over to Deravacia, pointed and aggressive now, challenging the dragonness, "You are the past, a vast wealth of experience and wisdom and the only folly you've committed is in thinking that knowledge belongs solely to you."

Norani turned to face Deravacia, the Orkhan's face severe and harsh. "I see now that I was not sent here to convince you, but rather to test you, to see if you are even worthy of being in this world you once loved and turned your back on."

With a blink, Norani was in her Lightning Form, her senses and reactions matching. With another blink, the lightning was set aflame as she melded two of her Arches together. With a final blink, she radiated light, using it to further strengthen her reflexes and the heat she emitted. Next to her, Crumble was empowered, a bulking titan of earth and stone, feeding on their connection.

"I will not make your mistake. I challenge you Deravacia, to take the mantle of your Oath from you, so it may not be wasted on one so weak. If you think us too soft to learn from our elders and our failures and our shared history,"

She whipped the winds around them into a frenzy, and the clouds covering the Ecithian continent were blown away, for miles and miles, from their location, shown upon the map on the water's surface.

"Then I will be the first to prove you wrong."

Surprise flickered across the dragon's face as Norani's words suddenly grew barbs. After a moment, Deravaecia chuckled, clearly trying to exude a sort of aloof amusement- but she could not hide the hint of rage in the tone of her reply.

"Little Ork, you have spirit. But don't mistake your own gorge for righteousness. You have no idea of what awaits-" the dragon spread her arms over the vision of the world shimmering in the blue waters beyond, "-out there."

Deravaecia was an old dragon, and wise in many ways. She'd served kings, gods, and god-kings alike, and had swallowed her pride to do it each time. Doubtless she saw Norani as a child, impetuous and precocious at the worst, not as a real threat to her.

But she was also an Iron Dragon, and that flight was inclined by nature and nurture to suffer no slights. Even as she chided Norani, Deravaecia's claws extended from her hands, and her pupils dilated into slits, nostrils flaring as her mouth curled into a snarl. "You think you can, what, arouse my slumbering passions with a child's insult? Let me show you how my kind deals with wayward children."

Deravaecia leapt for Norani then, moving so quickly that even a veteran soldier would not have registered her approach before she was close enough to kill. In her flickering elemental form, Norani could at least keep track of the dragon- but she was still unbelievably quick, fast enough to cross the space between herself and the orkhan Elementalist in the span of a single second.

As part of that same movement, the dragon drew her right arm across her left shoulder and aimed a backhanded slap at Norani with the same languid energy as a jilted lover. Though she felt no killing intent from Dervaecia (and you could feel that, with an Iron Dragon), the blow might nevertheless have killed another ork, ripping a trench through their torso before they could blink.

Ordinarily, of course, this was a peculiar and ineffective way to attack a creature made of lightning; but Norani could feel the Dragoncraft ringing around her like an inaudible bell, tolling in the Aetherium alone. Instinctively, she made the connection between that and the magic with which Dervaecia had awoken the sun-pool. It seemed, in some way, that the dragon could manipulate and domineer the energies of others... and she plainly preferred to do so with brutal physicality. If the blow connected, she would be sent flying regardless of her corporeality.

!	Message from: Erratum
	Deravaecia is about to slap Norani, and attack which Norani can tell would not kill her, but will certainly fling her into the water at high speed. Even that won't do much real damage- the dragon is clearly trying to put her in her place, not actually wound her. Due to Norani's form, she can dodge the attack if she prefers, or take it face-on. Let me know how she approaches this!