The Merlinian Legacy (working title)

Chapter 9: The Alpha's Sacrifice Between Roots and Storms

The giant gardener crouched down as best he could, his towering form casting a vast shadow over the clearing. His deep voice, rumbling like distant thunder, filled the space as he spoke, "Oh, werewolves and Druids, be warned—there is a storm coming." His weathered face bore the marks of age and wisdom, and a faint shimmer of storm magic flickered along his arms, like lightning trapped beneath his skin.

"We gardeners are doing our best to divert it with our magic," he continued, his tone grave, "but its sudden appearance suggests there is a dragon on the loose."

As he said this, his eyes, glowing with the pale green light of elemental power, narrowed suspiciously as they moved from Alaric Vale to Saline. The weight of his gaze lingered on both, a silent accusation hanging in the air. The storm's origin, unnatural and swift, hinted at something far more dangerous than mere weather—a disruption in the balance of nature that could only mean draconic interference.

The tension in the clearing deepened. Rowan, still in her owl-elephant form, ruffled her feathers slightly, feeling the pressure from the giant's words. Alaric shifted uncomfortably, aware that his recent transformation marked him as a potential cause, while Saline met the giant's gaze with a smirk, clearly unfazed by the suspicion.

The giant gardener crouched lower, his massive hands resting on the earth, fingers brushing the ground like roots seeking stability. His deep-set eyes, glowing with pale green elemental energy, moved cautiously between Alaric and Saline. "I followed its scent here," he warned, his voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. "So take precautions."

The giant's presence loomed over the clearing like a gathering storm, his tone darkening as he continued. "I hate dragons," he grumbled, frustration edging his words. "Their magic clashes with our delicate weather magic. Not to mention yours"—he gestured broadly toward the werewolves and Druids—"and the fae. A dragon loose in the garden throws the entire ecosystem out of balance."

His rough voice rumbled through the trees, carrying the gravity of a gardener who had tended to the forest for centuries. The sudden, unnatural storm, now understood to be more than just a passing disturbance, threatened the intricate harmony he and his fellow gardeners had carefully maintained.

Rowan's feathers ruffled again as she sensed the giant's agitation, and she glanced quickly at Alaric. His newly mutated form, with its draconic scales and antlers, had already disrupted the natural flow of magic in the forest, and now the giant had made it clear that the presence of such magic could wreak havoc on the balance of everything.

Saline, however, remained unfazed, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "A dragon? How curious," she said, her voice light, almost mocking. "What a terrible inconvenience, wouldn't you say?"

The giant's eyes narrowed further, clearly not amused by her tone. His warning hung heavy in the air, leaving no room for doubt—the storm that brewed overhead was no mere act of nature. The presence of draconic power had unsettled the forest in ways that could no longer be ignored, and the gardener giants were prepared to act.

Saline adjusted her posture on the floating branch, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I am truly sorry," she said in a tone laced with faux sincerity. "As much as I've enjoyed the hospitality you've shown me in this forest, I wouldn't want to stick around if there's a dangerous dragon on the loose."

She cast a glance at Alaric, who looked up warily. "Me and my apprentice will take our cat and be off before it catches us and eats us," she added with a playful smirk, beginning to navigate her floating branch closer toward Alaric.

The bakeneko Kage, still lounging lazily beside Saline, flicked his tail as if this were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His golden eyes followed Alaric as she steered their branch closer to him. With an exaggerated stretch, he scratched behind one ear and let out a soft, almost disinterested meow, fully embracing his role as an unassuming housecat. It was clear he was ready to play along with Saline's ruse, a silent conspirator in whatever game she was playing.

The giant didn't budge, but the tension in the air thickened, his deep-set eyes remaining fixed on the pair. Saline's mocking attitude and carefree demeanor had done nothing to ease the giant's suspicion. His elemental energy filled the air with static, a warning, like the charged stillness before lightning strikes, waiting to see what would happen next.

Alaric, still seated under Alderwyn's careful treatment, felt the shift. The giant wasn't fooled by Saline's lighthearted facade, and the pressure in the clearing grew heavier with each passing moment. The witch's game was dangerous, and Alaric could feel the rising stakes—his very presence might upset the balance of the forest.

Ignoring Alderwyn's soft protests, Alaric shifted slightly, wincing as his still-new draconic features shimmered in the dim light. With a calm but respectful tone, he addressed the towering figure before him.

"Noble gardener," Alaric began, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of resolve in it. Bowing his head slightly in deference, he continued, "You may not know or recognize me in my current state, but I have guarded your beloved garden all my life. My Alpha mutation has turned me into something closer to a dragon, and if my presence threatens the garden or the community I swore to protect, then let this witch take me away."

He paused, casting a glance at Saline before continuing. "Let her remove me from this sacred place, so that its delicate ecosystem can regain the balance it needs."

A stillness settled over the clearing, the air thick with Alaric's words. His plea—a mix of duty, sacrifice, and quiet understanding—hung between them, causing even Saline's playful confidence to falter for a moment. The giant's glowing eyes shifted, narrowing as they regarded Alaric, weighing his words carefully. The pulse of elemental magic around him softened, becoming quieter, more contemplative.

Rowan, standing to the side, returned fully to her owl form. Her feathers, now smoothed and composed, ruffled briefly before she stilled, watching intently, waiting for the ancient gardener's response.