Book of Ellagar

Chapter 20 : Transformation

Lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the swamp in blinding flashes. Ellagar ran, channeling her power, her breath loud as she cleared a path toward the sound of battle. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and magic. There, in a copse of alder, Thelara faced three attackers, who circled her, trying to slip behind her defences. Ellagar's heart pounded as she spotted two other cultists sprawled on the ground, their bodies motionless.

Thelara roared in defiance, and Ellagar caught sight of her friend, her scales glinting in the storm light as she swung her staff with practiced warrior's ease. Ellagar couldn't see the boys anywhere, and a cold dread clutched at her heart. They had been entrusted to her, and she had failed them.

Ellagar watched Thelara fight with the skill of a master warrior, her movements precise as she parried, the staff flashing with deadly intent. Ellagar could sense the magic that intertwined with Thelara's body, augmenting her strength, speed, and precision, was still there. Thelara's skills were undiminished; it was the familiar pulse of druidic power that connected Ellagar to the forces of nature that were no longer present. Instead, Thelara's magic was inward, and her usual connection to the swamp, to nature, and its magic, was muted. She remained formidable, but it was as if part of her had become disconnected from the world outside her body, as if the magic that had always been an extension of her was no longer at her command.

Ellagar's gaze locked on Thelara's for a moment, as the realization began to sink in. Fear and confusion churned within her. She had to know what was happening; she had to understand. Her voice broke through the sounds of the rising storm, tinged with urgency and desperation.

She called to Thelara, "Why are you not using your druidic powers?" Thelara ignored her and battled on, one against three.

Her chest tightened with the realization of what had happened. Ellagar felt a deep pang of guilt. Thelara had died and been brought back, but Ellagar hadn't fully grasped the consequences of that resurrection. The core of Thelara's power had been altered. The magic that should have flowed outward, calling upon the power of the living world, was now a muted ember within her.

Ellagar turned to face a twisted swamp creature that had succumbed to the magic of the Dragon Cult as it lumbered out of the bushes with a snarl. Her eyes blazed with fury, and she summoned her druidic magic. The vines at her feet writhed and grew, coiling around the creature's legs and pulling it to the ground. It thrashed and screeched, but the plants held fast, squeezing the life from its twisted form.

In rapid succession, Ellagar used her magic on two of the attackers facing Thelara. She sent vines to entangle the enemy like an extension of her own limbs. The swamp was her weapon, the air crackling with the force of her magic. Thelara dispatched the final attacker with a hard-sweeping strike of her staff.

Ellagar's gaze immediately shifted to her friend. Though the enemies were dealt with, an unsettling silence settled over the clearing. The storm was rising, the air thickening with the scent of impending rain, but the sounds of battle had quieted. Still, there was a tension that hung between them—a new kind of noise in the world—a sense of urgency and dread.

Ellagar stepped close to her clutch-partner repeating her earlier question, "Why are you not using your druidic powers?"

Thelara's expression faltered, her eyes falling to the ground. She looked away, her words hanging in the air. "I cannot," she murmured, her voice nearly lost in the distant rumble of thunder. The sadness in her eyes spoke volumes, a silent confession that the bond to the natural world she had once shared with Ellagar had been severed in her incomplete resurrection.
Ellagar's heart tightened as Thelara's words sank in, the pain in her voice raw and real. The core of their power had always been their connection to the natural world—its magic, its life force. Without it, Thelara was a shadow of the druid she once was.

"No. Oh no!. Oh my sweet," she gasped, the words part hope she had misheard. She reached, grasping Thelara's arms, her gaze searching her friend's face for any sign of the magic within. It was there, but muted. She saw the faintest trace in her eyes and felt it in the subtle pulse of her aura—but it was not enough.

Thelara didn't meet her eyes. "It's... not gone," she said softly, her voice broken. "But it's not what it was."

Ellagar's fists tightened, but she forced the grief aside. "We'll talk when there's time," she said, voice steady, urgency in every word. "Right now, we find the younglings. Then we deal with this." She squeezed Thelara's arm, a silent promise that their fight was far from over.

Without waiting for a response, Ellagar turned and dashed off into the swamp, her senses sharp as she searched for the trail of the boys. Thelara fell in step beside her, moving swiftly. Their bond remained clear in the unspoken way they moved together, working as one to track down the boys, even in the face of their personal struggles.

The path ahead split into two. The scent of the swamp was thick on both branches. Thelara's eyes narrowed, her skills attuned to the slightest detail. She pointed to the lighter trail, her voice low but firm. "They tried to hide this one," she said. "This is where they went."

They sprinted down the obscured path, their hearts hammering in their chests like war drums. The swamp's embrace grew tighter, the trees leaning in as if whispering secrets of the battle that raged in their wake. Ellagar's scales glistened with rain and moonlight, each footfall landing precision. The air charged with energy crackled with tension, the essence of the swamp shifting around them in anticipation of the coming storm.

As they rounded a bend, the scene before them was chaos. Verak stood at the center, his eyes blazing with the fury of his dragon heritage. His small form wrapped in a halo of shadow, and he shimmered with the same dark energy that Ellagar had seen in the Barrow. His opponents lay scattered, some writhing in pain, others eerily still. The youngling's left hand had elongated into a set of sharp, deadly claws that he wielded with surprising skill. Ellagar's heart ached as she saw the storm of emotions in Verak's eyes—fear for Ardvek, anger at the cultists, and a growing terror at the power surging through him. She could sense the dragon blood roaring in his veins, threatening to consume him. The realization that he was losing control fueled her fear, making the shadows around them even darker.

Thelara's breath caught in her throat as she took in the carnage.

"Where is Ardvek?" called Thelara. The question echoed in Ellagar's mind as she surveyed the scene. The path was clear, the swamp holding its breath, as if the very plants themselves were watching the unfolding drama. Thelara's eyes darted around the clearing, searching for any sign of the other hatchling.

"They took him," said Verak, his voice tinged with rage. "Our attackers left me behind. They said I was too unstable." He looked strangely pleased. "They need Ardvek!" Verak looked up, anger in his eyes. "They want to bring back the ancient dragon, our egg-mother." His words hit Ellagar like the storm around them.

Her mind raced as she saw the implications of Verak's revelation. Grandmother had caused this with her constant rewriting of the prophecy to serve her own intended purposes. The thought of her kind-hearted Ardvek, her youngling, being used as a vessel for the ancient dragon's rebirth was too much to bear. Her anger caused the vines at her feet to writhe in shared emotion.

Verak gave a roar that shook the ground beneath their feet. His transformation was swift and violent—his body growing in size, sprouting dark scales edged with a luminous purple that flickered like the storm itself. His eyes turned into twin orbs of fury, pupils narrowing into the cold, sharp focus of a predator. With a violent snap of his arms, shadowy tendrils of energy unfurled around him, lifting him off the ground. The very trees and vines seemed to bow before his power, bending and twisting in fear.

A thick fog rose around them. Ellagar watched Verak's shadowy half-dragon form disappear; a flicker of doubt formed in her mind. Were they ready to face the power of the Dragon Cult? She glanced at Thelara, seeking reassurance in her friend's eyes, but found only the same uncertainty. For a moment, the weight of their task seemed insurmountable.

"No," she whispered to herself, pushing the doubt aside. "We have to try."

Thelara stared in awe and horror, her staff slipping from her trembling hand. "Ellagar, he's... he's almost a dragon," she whispered, eyes wide, fixed on the transformation.

Ellagar stepped closer to Thelara, her voice steady despite the roiling emotions inside her. "We'll find a way to control that. But we can't let him face this alone." She took a breath, her gaze hardening. "We will follow. We will find a way to save Ardvek—and we'll end this madness. Together."