The elder Blue Fire dragon watched the group vanish into the maze, his molten sapphire eyes lingering on the misty expanse for a moment longer. A soft thrum of energy pulsed through the air, signaling the maze's activation.
Without turning, he spoke. “You’re late, Velith.”
A smaller, elegant Blue Fire dragon alighted beside him, her wings folding smoothly as she clutched an ancient scroll in her talons. Her scales shimmered like water reflecting moonlight, and a faint glow emanated from the quill tucked behind one of her long, spiraled horns.
“Apologies, Father,” Velith said, her voice calm and measured. “Destiny doesn’t wait for convenience.” She unrolled the scroll delicately, the parchment appearing to shimmer as though infused with starlight. Symbols danced across its surface, rearranging themselves with every breath she took.
The elder dragon, Eryndor, tilted his head slightly. “And what do the threads of fate reveal about our visitors?”
Velith traced the glowing words with a claw, her sharp eyes scanning the shifting script. “The Dragon’s Heart is more than it appears. Its corruption runs deeper than even they suspect.” She paused, her gaze lifting to her father. “If they fail the maze, the imbalance will worsen. Chaos will ripple through the elemental planes.”
Eryndor’s expression remained unreadable, though his tail flicked once in contemplation. “A dire warning. And if they succeed?”
Velith hesitated, the glowing letters dimming momentarily. “Their paths are fractured, uncertain. Some will rise to greatness, but others…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes darkened like storm clouds. “Their unity may come too late. Not all of them are meant to reach the end.”
Eryndor let out a low rumble, his gaze shifting back to the misty labyrinth. “Fate is not as immutable as we once believed, Velith. Even destiny can be rewritten with the right will.”
Velith’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained solemn. “Spoken like a true elder. But these mortals—these dragons and humans—they carry so much... noise. It’s a wonder they’ve made it this far.”
“They have spirit,” Eryndor said, his tone softening. “And sometimes, spirit is what bends the threads of fate.”
Velith glanced at the labyrinth, where faint echoes of the group’s voices occasionally reached them. “Do you believe they’ll pass the test?”
The elder dragon closed his eyes for a moment, as if listening to the magic of the mountain. When he opened them, they gleamed with quiet certainty. “That remains to be seen. But the maze does not simply test unity—it reveals the truths they’ve hidden from themselves. Whether they embrace those truths or break beneath them will decide their future.”
Velith hummed thoughtfully, her claws carefully rolling the scroll closed. “I’ll ensure the records are prepared, regardless of the outcome. If they succeed, their journey will become legend. If they fail…” She trailed off, her expression growing somber.
Eryndor’s wings shifted slightly, their tips catching the light. “Failure is a possibility they must confront. But for now, we wait.” He turned to Velith, his sapphire gaze piercing. “Continue observing their threads. Inform me of any changes.”
Velith inclined her head respectfully, securing the scroll in a pouch at her side. “As you wish, Father.”
With a powerful beat of her wings, she lifted into the air, vanishing into the swirling mists that cloaked the mountain. Eryndor remained at the edge of the plateau, his gaze never leaving the labyrinth. In the stillness, he whispered to himself, “May the flames of destiny guide them true.”
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Meanwhile…
Velith’s wings folded gracefully as she landed on the polished obsidian floor of her quarters. The chamber was vast, its walls adorned with shelves upon shelves of glowing scrolls, each one alive with faintly shifting runes. A gentle hum of magic filled the air, mingling with the soft whispers of the other destiny writers at work.
Around the room, several Blue Fire dragons sat or hovered, their eyes glowing faintly as they studied scrolls or etched new marks onto blank parchment with quills made from their own shed feathers. The soft scratching of quills and the occasional murmur of incantations created an atmosphere of quiet intensity.
Velith moved purposefully to her station, where a large, ornate table carved from ancient volcanic glass awaited her. She unfurled the scroll she carried, its glowing letters casting faint reflections on her sleek scales. Before she could begin her analysis, one of her colleagues, a slightly younger dragon with a single curved horn and scales that shimmered like twilight, approached her.
“You were with the Elder,” he remarked, his voice low and curious. “What did he say about the visitors?”
Velith gave a small, distracted nod, her talon gliding over the surface of her scroll to still the restless symbols. “He said what he always says, Aelion—fate is mutable. As if it were that simple.” Her tone carried a faint edge of frustration.
Aelion chuckled softly, his own scroll tucked under his wing. “And yet, you believe him. You wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”
Velith gave him a sharp look but said nothing, instead focusing her attention on the scroll. As she began to trace the glowing runes, her quill trailing faint sparks, another dragon spoke up from across the room.
“Velith, is it true that they carry the Dragon’s Heart?” The speaker, a pale blue dragoness with delicate, starlit scales, didn’t look up from her own work but clearly had been listening.
“It is,” Velith replied without looking up. “But it’s tainted—corrupted. And they lack the other relic needed to purify it.”
A murmur rippled through the chamber, the writers exchanging glances. One of them, a larger dragon with jagged horns and a skeptical air, snorted. “Then why waste time testing them? If they can’t even gather the tools they need, how can they possibly handle what comes after?”
Velith paused, her quill hovering above the scroll, before meeting his gaze. “Because fate isn’t about who’s prepared or who has all the answers. It’s about who’s willing to rise, despite the odds.”
The room fell silent for a moment, the other writers considering her words. Aelion broke the quiet with a wry smile. “Spoken like a dragon who spends too much time with the Elder.”
Velith didn’t respond, instead turning back to her work. The scroll’s symbols had settled, coalescing into a clearer narrative. She read the shifting words carefully, her expression growing more troubled with each line.
“What is it?” Aelion asked, his curiosity piqued by the shift in her demeanor.
Velith hesitated, then spoke, her voice quiet but weighted. “The maze isn’t just testing them—it’s unraveling their bonds. Exposing fractures they’ve ignored. If they can’t mend them in time...” She let the thought hang in the air.
Aelion frowned, stepping closer. “Then the Dragon’s Heart will never be purified. The corruption will spread.”
Velith nodded grimly. “And this mountain won’t be the only thing consumed.”
Around the chamber, the destiny writers exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Velith set down her quill and looked to Aelion.
“We need to be ready,” she said firmly. “If they succeed, their path must be documented. If they fail...” Her eyes darkened. “We’ll have to write an ending none of us want to see.”
Aelion nodded solemnly. “Then let’s hope they rise.”
The room fell into an intense silence as the writers returned to their work, their quills moving swiftly, recording the threads of fate as they unraveled.
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