“Grayson! Please!” Trea halted Grayson with her voice, quickly approaching Yvedawn’s face. “Please reconsider, Grayson. Do look at her and the emotion in her eyes, and then ask if she deserves death.” The light shined on Yvedawn, her emerald eyes wavering on the edge of tears. Though she closed her eyes, her whines were still audible and her body shivered with anxiety. Trea watched her with a stern look, but it was genuine that her heart was breaking. What she saw wasn’t a fantastical creature bent on violence, but a woman that was wronged and faces death for it.

“Trea, she’s…” Grayson began, the fury in his voice shaking back. Trea’s glare focused on him, and he glared back. His brow quivered and his shoulders slumped -- “Bah… Well…” he grumbled, staring down the length of his sword. With a loud sigh for his fiance to hear, Grayson set the weapon back into its sheath. “I suppose she was little trouble for Mattervon before, so she will be even less trouble for them now…”

Before Grayson could hop down, he was swept up in Yvedawn’s rise. She rushed to sit up, no longer afflicted with sleepiness and disregarding how Grayson tumbled to the cave floor. Sobs bubbled from her as she changed position, her relief to have been given mercy undervalued to what she feared she would lose.

“D-D-Daemon…!” she whined, searching for where he had gone. Thrakk had only just released Daemon from the clap of Yvedawn’s thighs, and the two were spread out on the ground, tumbled over from their success. Faster than either could react, Yvedawn’s reptilian hand swooped down and captured Daemon before he could even get to his feet. “Daemon…!” In her clutches, Daemon was squeezed in her hands and then strangled in her huge embrace. The air was forced out of him as he was hugged with bone-breaking power, all while Yvedawn’s crying grew into an uproar right above him.

Trea aided Grayson to his knees, but both had to cover their ears under the piercing sounds of Yvedawn’s wailing. “Is this an attack?!” Trea asked, but her yell was overpowered by an especially striking sob. The scene for all was painful to watch, especially as thick tears fell from her cheeks. Inbetween her cries, Daemon’s muffled pleas could occasionally be heard.

“I-I don’t…! I don’t want to be alone again…!” Yvedawn sniffled, her volume shaking to less intensity. “You humans… Always traveling from place to place, a-and meeting new people, living such simple, normal lives…” Another sniffle paused her as she rubbed her cheek into a shoulder. “Company was all I wished for…”

“I… I’ll visit…!” Almost going unheard, Daemon’s hoarse voice chipped in with what little breath he had. Yvedawn loosened her hug on him, allowing him a deep inhale and another chance to speak, “I will visit you…! I… I promise.”

“D-Daemon?” Yvedawn frowned, staring down at her chest where Daemon was pressed. “What do you mean…?”

“Indeed,” Grayson wondered as well. “You will visit this dragon?”

Daemon swallowed. “Well, it is not as though it is… very far from home,” he admitted. “Whatever the effort, I-I believe it would be worthwhile… If it is true that you have been alone in this cave, then I… at least sympathize, with wanting to see the world.” He coughed, “Though, kidnapping people is going too far…”

“This must be a cruel joke,” Yvedawn feared. She glared, “This is a trick… You will leave and never return…”

Daemon scratched at his hair -- for once, he had no intention of fast-talking to get what he wanted, and now he had to prove it. Unfortunately, there was no real guarantee he could give Yvedawn. He rambled for a compromise, “P-Perhaps if I spent this night with you, you would believe me? Erk…”

Thrakk interrupted with a boisterous laugh, “What is this! Men sleeping next to dragons -- what a wild world!”

“We will all stay for the night,” Grayson announced. His fellow guildmates immediately turned to him, startled by this decision. “Will that convince you? Will you let us all leave peacefully?”

Yvedawn was befuddled by the deal being offered. Sniffling once more, she settled her gaze on Daemon, determining his loyalty. “... Only one night…?” she weakly asked.

“One,” Grayson specified, to the relief of the others. “We have lost enough time on our return trip to the guild headquarters. Early in the morning is the latest we can stay.”

“... Fair,” Yvedawn tersely replied. Though she showed little emotion to the guild, she sneaked a smile down at Daemon. A remaining tear was wiped away, “One night spared of loneliness will be more of a blessing than you know.”

Daemon’s tension melted from his shoulders as he remembered to breathe. His proposal had been accepted, and not just by Yvedawn, but the Tides of Blakewood -- most of them, at least. Thrakk kicked at cobbled stone, “Hah, what a wild world…”

The rays of light above had faded as night took its turn, but the cave was illuminated more than ever. A campfire in the center brought warmth to the dank chamber and torches set into the columns lit the further corners. More than just to brighten their surroundings, the campfire was also used to roast two large wild hogs, taken from Yvedawn’s stash. Trea boasted her skills as an adventuring cook, gathering what little rations the guild had been swiped up with in order to add flavor and variety to the meal. She dragged Daemon into helping her, pleasantly surprised to discover that, aside from being nervous, he was far from inept at cooking. Grayson and Thrakk were as lively as they were in combat, sharing stories of their adventures with increasing bravado. They had a captivated audience, as both Daemon and Yvedawn were keen on hearing of these amazing exploits, these windows into far parts of the land.

She was distant from the activity, as though pushed away like the shadows. Ljós observed, as she was known to do, but more so than usual; all while the dinner was underway, her gold eyes rarely looked anywhere other than Yvedawn. She watched her participate with the others, how she asked Grayson and the others questions of their travels, how she devoured her portion of hog in just a swallow, and how she laughed at Thrakk and Grayson’s disagreement over a story. Going into the night, Yvedawn felt Ljós’s stare creep along her winged back.

So Yvedawn stared back, disconnecting from the others like Ljós had been. Her stare was especially heavy, hanging over the mage that stood just within her arm’s reach, but Ljós was unintimidated. Rather coyly, Ljós kept silent so that Yvedawn would be the first to speak, and with so many questions on her mind, it was only a matter of time. “A-Are you going to cast another spell…?”

“Ah. So you were afraid of that,” Ljós replied on beat. “Perhaps I will, if the occasion were to arise.”

Yvedawn cringed, “Th-That will not be necessary then…”

Ljós giggled, a chime that wasn’t as chilling as her analytical tone. “I would enjoy that, if so. Violence would tarnish the festivities, and I would prefer to expend magic on endeavors of knowledge rather than combat.” She bowed, “I apologize if I offended you with my looking. I do not require sleep for functionality, so my duty will be to guard the guild overnight.”

“Ah, I s-suppose that is understandable.” Yvedawn fidgetted, thinking once to rejoin the others, but her curiosity was too strong; Ljós silently sympathized. Yvedawn asked, “Then, if you do not sleep, you truly are an elf?”

“Rare as we might be in Midrealm now, I am indeed a dark elf. The grander mystery is understanding what creature you are.”

Yvedawn blinked. “Me? Ah, cl-clearly I am a dragon,” she grumbled, insulted. Her claws flexed, bringing attention to their purple scales. “I could not be something else if I attempted to be.”

Ljós’s fingers crossed into each other at her chest, her habitual pose of intense thinking. “Of my three-thousand years and excess of gathering information, no records have once drawn comparison to the distinct traits you exhibit. Features related to draconic kin are present but unlike that of which I have ever studied… or seen.” Ljós leaned in, and Yvedawn instinctively did the same. “... I have seen dragons, Yvedawn. Humans have forgotten, but this is a childhood memory. The resemblance is lacking.”

Yvedawn glared, a smug smile struggling to stick. “I am short for my kind, I will admit, but my heritage is not to be underestimated…”

“Could you possibly be mistaken regarding your heritage? You could be a different creature entirely. Have you seen a true dragon with your own eyes?”

“Of course I have. My mother was a true dragon-- truest of them all!” Her pride was at stake, Yvedawn decided, and her volume raised with it. “She was quite popular. The humans had foolishly given her a name, which was… Mm…” She recollected, drawing from memories so long ago. “... The Scarlet Terror, I believe? It was a silly title of that sort, but that was my mother, and as her daughter I must be a dragon.”

The campfire crackled in an atmosphere that had fallen quiet. The attention was squarely on Yvedawn, who spoke only to the astonished Ljós. The mage wrestled with dozens of questions, yet could only repeat what was said, “The Scarlet Terror? The dragon most feared in all of Midrealm?”

Yvedawn’s arrogance swelled, and she nodded proudly with her arms crossed. “Most feared, yes! The treasures I have here are just a fraction of the wealth she collected in her prime. That should settle any doubts of what I am, hoho~”

Her audience’s astonishment finally alerted Yvedawn of what she was revealing. She glanced across the expressions, her confidence simmering. Her mother’s name was more impressive than she had assumed, but it was the implications that left them so awestruck. She had wanted to feel proud, but it was Daemon’s expression of worry and horror that had her sink in shame. Rather than lift her head high, she shuddered her knees to her chest and wrapped her tail around herself.

Thrakk chuckled, the first to shake off her surprise. “You said your mother is a dragon, but then what of your father? Was he not a dragon? A human?” she asked.

Yvedawn’s glare pierced through Thrakk. She growled, “Are you mocking my father?”

Thrakk stuttered uncharacteristically. “I-I just thought-- Y’know, everyone must have been wonderin’, r-right?”

“Excuses must be made for Thrakk,” Ljós interjected, “the manners of her people are not like our own. Her and our speculations are unnecessary. But, for the information you have provided, I am most appreciative.” Ljós’s tone was brighter than when it began, the gloom of her appearance not matching how satisfied she truly was for having learned something so extraordinary. Before the fire was fizzled out, Ljós quietly approached Grayson and Trea to make a note of urgency. Reporting to the capital was now their new priority.

The day had been exhausting for the adventurers and a long march awaited them. The Tides of Blakewood that could were fast to fall asleep, reassured by Ljós’s watch. Daemon, however, could not sleep as soundly as these veteran warriors did. As weary as being kidnapped had made him, the thought keeping him alert was that a giant dragon slept in that very chamber. Yvedawn lay sprawled across the cave floor, tucked against one of the walls. He watched her for a time, slumbering away with long snores that were not so subtle at her size. The Scarlet Terror, he remembered, a scourge to humanity. This was her daughter, a being so big and with such latent power that Mattervon suffered when she spontaneously gave chase after him. Enough treasure to join a guild was all I desired, he thought, but of all the dragon rumors to be true, of course, that dragon would be the daughter of the Scarlet Terror. Of course, of course…

Daemon shivered, the cold gnawing at him. His eyes closed, bitterly accepting sleep, but his aches were eased as a warmth enveloped over him. Shielded from the night air, Daemon’s shaking ceased, and he slipped into slumber before he could mutter his thanks.

The shuffling of equipment alerted Daemon. Footsteps avoided him where he lay, the boots recognized as Trea’s. She noticed him stir and smiled at him. “It is time,” she whispered to him. “Before she awakens. Let us go.”

Daemon groaned, trying to get up but unable to. He heard Trea giggle. Turning around, he realized weighing him down was a reptilian claw. Yvedawn had reached out and held him through the night, but she was still deep asleep, unaware that her visitors were leaving. As Daemon gently unfixed himself from Yvedawn’s grasp, he thought back on this creature he had unearthed. She was a story, a stranger situation than he had ever anticipated. A dragon that he tricked, was kidnapped by, and then befriend. He paused as that thought crossed him -- could he consider Yvedawn a friend? What did she think of him and the Tides after everything that occured?

“Will she not be enraged?” Daemon asked Trea, gently putting aside one last finger that was on him.

“It was as we promised, that we would leave early in the morning,” Trea answered, seemingly not content with that answer. “That aside, it would be better to leave quietly, lest we risk a change of her heart.”

Though he understood why, Daemon still felt a pain in his heart for slipping away stealthily. He would definitely return here, if not because of his promise to, then simply to relive this memory and confirm the reality of it. The dragon’s den was a miraculous place that would have to remain shrouded in mystery; the Tides and Daemon all agreed that what they would not remark on what they found. Not a coin was to be touched from the gallant chamber of treasure, as tempting as it was. The risk of wronging the Scarlet Terror was dangerously real, and Mattervon had just a glimpse of a dragon’s rage unleashed.

The morning sun leaked over the horizon one ray at a time. Trea and Grayson lead the trip back to Mattervon while Ljós traveled in Thrakk’s shadow. Daemon lagged behind, distant from the idle chats the others were having. He glanced back up the mountains just as they reached the base. He felt a gaze tracing him, as though he was watched from far away. He offered a silent wave hidden from the guild, and Yvedawn, seated outside her den, waved back.

Repairs were already underway when they arrived at Mattervon. The structures Yvedawn had trampled over were in the early stages of being fixed, proving the village’s ability to endure and recover. Daemon expected as much having lived his life here, a fact he dwelled on as he separated from the guild and turned to his home. After such an adventure, or whatever that was, the plain door into his humble cottage was like a portal into the mundane.

His mother immediately greeted him, rushing into him with a hug and kiss. She had been sick with worry when the dragon arrived and Daemon never returned, and nothing he had to say could lessen her concern. He removed his armor and slumped into a chair, burdened with what he had to report. “I will not be joining the guild,” he sighed, “not after that event.”

“Oh, Daemon dear,” his mother cooed. She bit her lip while gripping his shoulders from behind, massaging his neck like she always did when she wanted him near. “It hurts to hear that… but this is likely for the best. The fate of adventurers is deathly uncertain. I can sleep much easier knowing my son is not being eaten by something, goodness.”

She could tell, however, that this did little to alleviate his disappointment. Daemon’s gaze dropped to where his armor was removed, thinking of how his father once fit into it long ago. His father traveled long and far, returning home with tales of his conquests which Daemon would then take to the village. Telling stories and imagining the grandness of the world, however, was not enough for him, not after his father never returned to Mattervon. He wanted to find his own stories, see the world for himself.

There was a knock at the door. His mother tended to it, but was speechless when she saw who greeted her. “Pardon the intrusion, but is Daemon here?” Grayson’s sturdy voice was unmistakable, rattling the wood of the home with his unwavering tone. Over the mother’s head, he saw Daemon, at the table half-turned towards the door. “Aye, there you are. Have you gathered everything yet? I advise you learn now that I dislike delays, so if you have nothing left to do, come!”

“... Come? Uh, uh,” Daemon stammered, looking around the house for context. His mother was equally confused. “Grayson, sir, I-I do not understand what you mean. After everything that happened, I assumed--”

“That we denied you? Pah,” Grayson shook his head, “why would you assume that? You obtained more than enough to pay your dues, and you showed bravery and wit in dire situations. The Tides have accepted worse and weirder -- gear up and stop making me wait, Daemon.”

Daemon hesitated, but when he understood that this was no dream, he jumped to his feet. Dashing from room to room, he collected all that he would need to begin his life as a member of the Tides of Blakewood. In short work did he have a backpack messily stuffed with just about all of his belongings, with even more luggage tied to the outside. It broiled his mother to see him so eager to leave, but the spark in his eyes and the energy in his movements brought light to the passion he had for adventuring. Rather than anchor him to Mattervon, she wished her son to have an adventure he would have to return home alive to tell.

But one matter went unaddressed, not until Daemon mentioned it while headed to the tavern with Grayson. He glanced at the north mountain and asked, “What of Yvedawn? I cannot very well visit her if I travel with you, and that was a promise…”

“Oh, hoho,” Grayson chortled, amused that Daemon had not thought more of it. “You will not miss her for long. I am afraid this is just the beginning of her story, the daughter of the Scarlet Terror.”