Book of Ellagar

Chapter 2: Deeper Still

The clutchlings grew at a phenomenal rate. Within weeks, Ardvek and Verak had transformed from infants into inexhaustible toddlers. Even though they appeared completely human, Ellagar could sense the dragon's spirit coursing through their bodies. The younglings' constant need for food was exhausting, and both Ellagra and Thelara felt as if all they did was gather and prepare meals. Yet there was also a joy in seeing their personalities take shape. 

Ardvek was a curious child, full of laughter and innocence. His eyes remained the same golden glow as hers, yet no other visible sign of his ancient dragon heritage appeared. He was a delight to raise, respectful and ever eager to learn the swamp's mysteries. His need for food and comfort was met with gentle whispers of the swamp's language, while Ellagar taught him to listen and respect the land that had become their home.

Verak, in dark contrast, was a creature of hunger and stealth. The swamp seemed to hold its breath around him, the misty air charged with wariness. His eyes, outwardly human, flickered with a draconic gleam that sent chills down Ellagar's spine. His growth was erratic—one moment a toddler, the next a gangly child. The swamp warnings grew louder in her mind, hinting at secrets untold, and Ellagar found herself whispering with Thelara about Grandmother's true intentions. Was Verak, this creature of shadow, meant to be a source of hope, or was he to be used as a weapon in the twisted plotting of Grandmother's schemes?

Thelara remained nearby, watching the perimeter and looking for early warning signs of pursuit. She was a comfort and of great help to Ellagar, dependable and calm, her bronze scales subdued in the swamp light.

Ellagar's days were now filled with the mundane task of raising two children who were not her own, yet she felt as if they were born from her very soul. Human in body, they still grew like dragons. The prophecy loomed over them all, a dark cloud that grew with each passing moon. The scrolls she had once studied so eagerly now lay tossed into a corner of their makeshift shelter; the incense and candles that once burned with purpose were now cold and forgotten. Often, her thoughts would stray to Grandmother's words, and she felt her doubt growing about her ability to fulfill her role in this arrangement. Was she truly the one these younglings needed, or was she a convenient pawn in a game she couldn't understand? Grandmother stayed silent, although Ellagar could feel her lurking connection.

The bond between Ellagar and the children grew stronger with each passing day. They absorbed knowledge like light-fed leaves. Ardvek took to calling her "Sister Ellagar," a name that brought her both joy and a pang of regret. Verak was more stoic, often lost in his thoughts, his eyes distant and brooding. Despite his human exterior, he was a creature of the swamp, drawn to its mysteries and power. He would disappear for hours, only to return shedding wisps of eerie, shadowy tendrils that unnerved Ellagar, carrying a catch of unlucky swamp creatures. Ellagar watched him with a blend of pride and fear, wondering what secrets he uncovered in the murky waters and twisted roots.

As the moons rolled past the first full year of life, the soft warnings from the plants grew louder. This part of the swamp was no longer safe. The cultists had not forgotten; their anger a palpable force that seeped through the very earth. Ellagar knew that she could no longer ignore the signs or her inner warnings. She had to prepare the children for the world that awaited them beyond the swamp's embrace. But how could she prepare them for something she did not fully understand? She glanced at the scrolls, reading the words to find comfort. Her doubts grew stronger, and the swamp spoke louder, echoing the questions that haunted her.

Thelara reported wanderers in the nearby groves and channels, shadows that flitted from tree to tree. Thelara was certain these phantoms were mystical hunters sent by the cultists—or perhaps some other force that also wanted the children.

The day came when the two druids could no longer ignore the signs. The swamp itself began urging them to move, and the plants and animals needed to sustain them seemed to retreat from the area. The air constantly carried a scent of danger, and the gentle whispers of the swamp had become hard hisses of warning. It was time. Time to leave the only home the children had ever known. Time to venture deeper into the swamp to find a new haven. With a heavy heart, Ellagar packed their meagre belongings and held the children close. Thelara scouted ahead, her eyes scanning for any sign of pursuit.

The swamp whispered to Ellagar, guiding her. Showing her a place where she and the children might find refuge. The roots whispered of a place of ancient power, where dragons had ruled the swamp before humans had destroyed the harmony. Deep in the swamp, Ellagar sensed the decaying sanctuary of an ancient black dragon, the bones mouldering in the swamp. Thelara nodded, saying the place was shrouded in legend and fear, which would keep most other creatures away. With the swamp's whispers as their guide, the group set into the unknown, the weight of Grandmother's silent expectations heavy on their shoulders.

The journey was a struggle. The swamp whispered them ahead, and then Ellagar felt the swamp's reluctance to allow them deeper into its forbidden depths. The wet earth beneath their feet sucked at their steps in protest, the insects blinded their eyes, and the plants tangled them, only to part and allow them forward. As they moved, Ellagar couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Shadows darted around the edge of her vision, and the air was thick with the scent of decay and danger.

"Stay close," Ellagar whispered to the children, her voice trembling despite her efforts to stay calm. Ardvek clung to her side, his eyes wide with fear, while Verak walked ahead, his gaze fixed on the path before them, his expression unreadable.

"Thelara, do you see anything?" Ellagar called softly.

Thelara paused, her bronze scales glinting in the dim light. "Nothing yet, but we must hurry. I sense we are not alone."

Ellagar's heart pounded in her chest. She glanced at the scrolls tucked into her pack, the words of the prophecy echoing in her mind. She had to be strong for the children's sake. But doubt gnawed at her, and the swamp's whispers grew louder, echoing the questions that haunted her.

For four days, they had journeyed—Ardvek staying close to Sister Ellagar in the dense swamp, while Verak slipped away to shadow Thelara during her patrols. Thelara reported that Verak was unnerving, moving as quietly as a hunter through the trees.

That evening, they set up camp in a small clearing. A warm fire was built, and their tent pitched, providing a small comfort for their weary bodies. The children were exhausted, their worn bodies swaying from the constant travel. Ardvek could barely keep his eyes open, and Verak, usually so full of energy, moved with a sluggish gait. The druids, too, felt the weight of their journey, their limbs heavy and their minds clouded with fatigue.

That night was a tapestry of sounds. Frogs sang their evening ballads while crickets provided a rhythmic symphony. The fire crackled and spit, throwing shadows on their tent. Thelara was the first to notice something was off. Her scales prickled. The air didn't smell right. It was too clean—not the usual bouquet of swamp decay. She signaled Ellagar with a subtle nod, and the two shared a knowing glance. They had survived many dangers together; they knew when the land was telling them to be wary. The frogs stopped singing.

Thelara's eyes narrowed, her nose twitching as she scanned the perimeter. She whispered, "I've picked up a scent." Ellagar turned, tracking. Yes. It was faint—not swamp creature nor human. It was... a dragon. The scales on Ellagar's neck raised, her instincts on high alert. They had encountered no dragons since arriving at the swamp. She had not expected to find any here. Was it the children? Or something else? Verak hissed at the darkness. And the darkness replied.

Ellagar placed a reassuring hand on Ardvek's shoulder, feeling the tension in his small frame. "Stay close," she murmured, her voice a soft anchor in the growing unease. Ardvek nodded, his tired eyes wide but trusting. Thelara moved closer to Ellagar, their shoulders brushing in a silent show of solidarity. Verak, sensing the shift, stepped back into the circle of firelight, his eyes meeting Ellagar's with a flicker of understanding. They were in this together, bound by more than just circumstance.

Ardvek's eyelids drooped, and he swayed on his feet. Ellagar noticed and gently scooped him up, cradling him against her chest. "Rest now, little one," she whispered, feeling his small body relax into her arms. His head snuggled into her shoulder, and within moments, he was asleep, his breaths soft and even. Verak watched silently, his expression unreadable, but he moved closer to his brother, his presence a silent promise of protection.

A soft, sharp hiss pierced the night, sending waves down Ellagar's spine. Thelara's hand tightened on her staff, the runes along it pulsing with anticipation. "There," she pointed, and Ellagar followed her gaze to see a glint of bright green scales disappear into the murky water, ripples spreading across the surface. The hiss came again, closer this time, a challenge.

"Not too big," Thelara observed, her eyes narrowing.

Ellagar grunted, "Big enough to swallow us all."

The camp grew tense, the swamp holding its breath. The usual chorus of croaking frogs and chirping insects had fallen eerily silent. The air thickened with the scent of damp earth and decaying vegetation, mingling with the acrid smell of the fire. Ardvek slept soundly, oblivious to the lurking danger. His soft breathing provided a point of calm. Verak twitched, ready to run for the trees. Ellagar's heart raced, her thoughts filled with the swamp's warnings. She turned at every sound, each crack of a twig or splash of water setting her nerves on edge.

The hours dragged on, the hissing growing louder, more insistent, circling them. The sound, sharp and unsettling like steam escaping from a fissure. The swamp closed in around them, the darkness pressing against the unsteady light of the fire. Thelara whispered spells into the night, setting alarms to alert them. Her movements deliberate and controlled, her eyes scanning the darkness with a calm intensity. Ellagar held Ardvek closer, her tail flicking in agitation. She snapped at Verak to stay still. His eyes flashed red, but he obeyed, his body tense and ready to spring.

Suddenly, a shadow emerged from the water—large, menacing, and undeniably dragon. The creature hovered on the edge of the firelight, its green scales gleaming. It regarded them with intelligent eyes, a soft growl rumbling from its throat. It was not a threat—not yet. Ellagar could feel the power coiled within it, ready to strike. It moved quickly. Thelara stepped forward to meet it, her staff flaring with protective runes.