The Dragon Mark

When the heat finally subsided, the first thing Lysbelle felt was immense relief. It was as if the weight of the world had lifted off her shoulders, and for the first time, she could truly breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest; destructive energy surged, coursing through her veins and filling her entire body. Then the energy withdrew, leaving her limbs one by one before settling into her tattoo. Weakened by the experience, she felt as though she were floating. Almost swept along by a current leading her toward an unknown destination. Her vision returned, and she found herself in a mystical place. The vast, dark hall, a true architectural marvel, seemed as though it could hold thousands of people. Currents of white energy ran along its walls, pulsing with a calming light. Finally, in front of her, an onyx staircase ascended several meters before stopping abruptly.

Driven by instinct, she moved forward. Each step was harder to climb than the last, and the young woman had to summon immense effort to reach the top. After what felt like an eternity, she finally stood at the summit, breathless.

Before her rested a massive white dragon. A gigantic serpentine figure with pristine white scales. His eyes filled with such deep wisdom that she nearly drowned in them. It wasn't until the immense creature lowered its head toward her that Lysbelle remembered to breathe again. Faced with a being so powerful in both force and presence, she felt as if all her troubles evaporated. What was a mortal's life in the presence of a god?

The dragon opened its mouth, and the room began to tremble. A deep, guttural, and broken sound escaped its jaw, lined with teeth larger than a man.

The dragon was laughing.

"I am no god, desert child..."

The voice, as deep as the earth, echoed in her mind. Still in shock, Lysbelle felt as though she were dreaming. She had no idea how she’d arrived here, and no idea what was happening. Yet, she was sure of one thing—two things in fact. This dragon was the one she had known for years, the one represented in her tattoo. And the dragon had just read her thoughts!

"Where am I? What do you want from me?"

Panic began to rise in her. The presence was so strong, it felt like she could be crushed at any moment. Each breath grew harder. As if sensing her anxiety, the dragon lowered its neck. Its horned, scaled head came closer to Lysbelle. Strangely, the gesture calmed her, and her breathing became calmer.

"Breathe, desert child. I did not bring you here. It is you who came to me," the cavernous voice echoed in her mind again, this time more gently. "I cannot answer questions to which you already hold the answers."

"The Ruin guided me here?"

The dragon moved once more, its enormous body gliding through the air as if gravity held no sway over it. The sound of scales scraping against one another echoed thunderously. The creature's huge, glowing orange-red eyes locked onto Lysbelle's dark pupils. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw infinite sadness in them before the dragon spoke again.

"The Ruin merely opened the link that already existed between us, child. It is but a tool, its possibilities as vast as your desires."

"So, it was I who wanted to come here? But I don’t know you, and I don’t understand what you can offer me!"

The immense head of the Creature tilted slightly to the side. An intrigued expression appearing on its draconic face. Finally, a flash of understanding passed through its eyes.

"Yet you do know me, desert child, and you know what you wish to ask of me. Yet, I fear my answer will not please you."

Lysbelle looked at the enormous creature once more. The size of its claws and fangs should have terrified her. The power she could sense in each of its movements should have left her frozen with fear. Yet, after the initial panic that had gripped her moments earlier, she felt calm.

"Can you help me save my brother and the captured nomads?"

She asked the question in a steady voice. Knowing that the immense Dragon would likely not meet her expectations. But the answer wasn’t quite what she anticipated.

"Desert child, I can grant you nothing that you do not already possess."

Before she could ask what that meant, the Dragon reared back. With one mighty gesture, he let out a roar of extraordinary power. The sound resonated with all the force the creature possessed. The room trembled, and Lysbelle even thought he triggered an earthquake.

The next moment, she found herself in a damp room, her hand resting on the stone altar.

"Lysbelle! What just happened? Where are you?"

The voice jolted her like an electric shock. She pulled her hand away from the pedestal, her mind still trying to determine if everything had been a dream. She made her way toward the trapdoor she had fallen through.

"I'm here! Right below! A trapdoor has opened."

Tyrell cursed as he appeared at the opening.

"What just happened? I felt a tremor and a massive surge of Îme!"

"I'm not sure; can you help me out of here? The opening is too high, and I can't reach it without help."

The man nodded, motioning for Lysbelle to wait a moment. He reappeared seconds later, having removed the wide cloth used for protection against the desert's heat.

"Grab hold; I'll try to pull you up."

The maneuver was quick. With help, Lysbelle had no trouble reaching the ledge and pulling herself up. She turned to thank Tyrell and froze. The man had used the cotton fabric, most often worn under the protective garment, as a makeshift bandage. The cloth was soaked with blood, torn to cover his chest and right arm. Noticing her surprised and worried look, Tyrell struggled to finish dressing. He then answered her unspoken question.

"I got lucky. Just a broken arm and a couple of ribs—could've been worse. But instead of worrying about that, tell me what happened."

Lysbelle moved from shock to confusion, then back to concern. She recalled the Swarm and the reaper. It had almost killed both Tyrell and her. His injury was linked to it without any doubt.

"You need medical attention. We should head out now."

The man flatly refused. Arguing that encountering stray reapers would be more dangerous than risking his condition worsening. He insisted once again on knowing what had just happened, and Lysbelle told him. She explained how the trapdoor had opened beneath her, how she had found a pedestal that had unleashed a wave of energy. But when she saw the wariness and concern cross Tyrell's usually stoic face, she chose not to mention her encounter with the Dragon.

Tyrell took a moment to think before making a decision. His gaze scrutinized Lysbelle, searching for any sign of deceit or hidden truth. Realizing she had nothing more to add, he spoke.

"I'm afraid the Îme surge may have been enough to attract creatures here, but we have no choice. We'll set up watch shifts and keep an eye on the area."

With those words, he headed for the first room, Lysbelle following after him. As she left the hall, she glanced back at the statue, which once again faced the corridor. She shivered and quickened her pace to catch up with Tyrell. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the Ruin than she had discovered.

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The next two days passed slowly, too slowly. Tyrell’s condition had only worsened. Even though he pushed himself harder and harder to appear fine, Lysbelle wasn’t fooled.

They had eaten almost nothing, surviving on a few small desert rodents that Lysbelle had managed to hunt with Tyrell’s guidance. Even though she had hunted before on her caravan journeys and considered herself fairly skilled, Tyrell had shown her there was much more to learn, revealing techniques she hadn’t even known existed.

Lysbelle took a lot of time to try and understand what happened in the cave. But even when she went back in under Tyrell’s gaze, she did not find any clues or anything. Even the altar that sent the Îme pulse seemed like nothing else but an ordinary stone pillar. The only thing she discovered that changed from before she found the secret room wasn’t even about the Ruin. Her tattoo had taken back the pretty white color she knew. A strange fact that she theorized was linked to the Îme surge.

They had also talked a bit—after all, they had time to kill and little to do. During those talks, Lysbelle learned that her companion could wield Îme. He had mentioned it casually before changing the subject. Îme sculptors were rare among the Nomads; their small numbers and nomadic lifestyle weren’t conducive to mastering the magical art. From what she knew, a skilled master of Îme could perform miracles. This primordial energy required years of study to grasp its volatile nature before even attempting the simplest spells. She had tried, unsuccessfully, to learn more before realizing that Tyrell was entirely closed off to discussing the subject.

Perhaps out of luck, they hadn’t encountered any big threats during those two long days of waiting. They had feared attracting the Swarm back, but to their relief, there had been no signs of it. Some predators came lurking around in an attempt to feed on whatever attracted them, but none could enter the Ruin. As if the walls were made of indestructible stone, nothing could even begin breaking the place.

Tyrell also spent some time explaining the route they would take. His precise instructions revealed much about his past and experience as a leader. He made sure Lysbelle understood in case he could no longer guide them.

Finally, on the morning of the third day, they filled their meager water flask, the one that the convoy had provided, one last time before stepping out of the Ruin. The scorching sun, already burning even though it had barely risen, greeted them as the large wooden door closed behind them. Without a word, Tyrell pointed in a direction and began walking. Having lost the grace and agility that had once impressed Lysbelle due to his injuries, he moved slowly. Not as weakened, Lysbelle followed in silence, her eyes scanning their surroundings.

In the middle of the desert, with only the sun as their guide and dangers lurking everywhere, they would have to rely on his expertise and her vigilance to survive.