RISEN | ONC 2024

14 | Fire On The Spire

Cannibal swept around the spire of Swaan Tull, gradually ascending until she broke through the ring of white clouds to reveal the tallest point. The other dragons followed the beast like an obedient swarm, the golden sun illuminating the grass-covered peak where a young Talon awaited their arrival.

Heran beat the sword against his shield, attracting Cannibal until she closed the space between them with two beats of her magnificent wings. As the dragon's head lowered on her serpentine neck, Loranna jumped through the gap in between her devilish horns, landing softly with her extended hand clutching the rapier blade.

Brother and Sister Forsaken leapt from their dragons onto the ledge as the creatures flew by, their bodies slithering through the clouds before reemerging and finding a comfortable altitude behind Cannibal to express their intimidation.

The four Talons confronted each other in a choreographed standoff on the top of the Swaan Tull Spire, a grand finale premeditated since the hunt began almost two days before.

Heran puffed his chest and spread his feet into a defensive stance.

"Well done, sister. You found me. Your mother must be proud."

Loranna and Cannibal's bodies aligned, and the dragon's wings and horns almost appeared as her own. Her amber eyes flickered like small fires, deadly and full of power. The sun reflected off the blue scales surrounding them.

"It is good to see you, Heran," Loranna said.

"Is it?" Heran asked. He hadn't expected those to be her first words. "I suppose you did sell your soul and kill hundreds of people to seize this moment."

Loranna frowned. "The massacre of Port Haradem is on you, brother. If you had only surrendered, they would have been shown mercy."

"Mercy? Tell that to the moon elves of Ethomoore or the villagers of Roxundam. Do not pretend you have a conscience, sister. You serve a wicked master, who herself is a slave to a greater evil. How is the witch? Still locked in her castle coffin, letting you Forsaken do all the dirty work? How you have fallen, Loranna."

"I have risen," Loranna rebuked. "Before the Dragoness, our people were nothing, fools changing in order to belong to a society that wrote us out of its story long ago. You call it a cult, but I call it purpose."

Heran laughed. "Then why are you called Daughter Forsaken? Surely you are not stupid enough to believe the Dragoness cares about you."

Loranna stayed silent, Brother and Sister Forsaken exchanging a glance while the dragons stirred with impatience behind them.

"You do," Heran said, shaking his head. "The light of the world will restore the Southern Isles and eradicate the lies that witch feeds you. You are capable of so much more, Loranna. Stop wasting your potential and help me save this world!"

"Is this world worth saving?" Loranna asked.

"The last woman to utter that statement as an excuse to do nothing now stands as a pillar of stone at the bottom of this spire. It is not our right to judge El Olam's creation. It is our duty to honour it."

"It is too late for that, Heran," said Loranna. "You hold on to a naive fantasy that can never exist."

"If you really believe that, finish what you started. Kill me, and allow Roxundam to evolve in darkness for eternity."

"I agree with the boy," said Brother Forsaken. "Enough talk. Kill him."

Loranna raised her rapier blade and lunged at Heran with a full swing. Their swords clashed with direct impact.