I Am A Steelwarden- The Duel (Prologue)

A tall man shrouded in glinting metal sat silently upon his black steed, watching the frozen path up the mountain of Eavitus Cyan. He was flanked by a long row of individuals, all masked by black embroidered cloths that encircled their necks. The congregation all sat upon similar mounts, black as the furthests reaches of the sky. With their backs to the sheer drops of the mountain down to the dark lakes below, they all waited and gazed intently up the path, scanning for any sign of movement. No-one stirred; only the horses snorted and dug their hooves into the cold earth every so often. Birds familiar with the silent nights and owls that had found a resting place twittered and hooted. The brisk mountain breeze seemed to consume the thoughts of all who were there.

The man, Vaian, reached up to scratch his silver beard, grazing his finger on a burr from his raiment. With a silent curse, he brushed the stinging wound, and the rough, broken skin smoothed over. Everyone apart from him wore thickly padded leather armour, plus thick velvet tunics beneath that, and long, sweeping cloaks made of a similar material that rustled and billowed in the wind. Vaian, however, was squeezed into a slender but cumbersome loryvaar plate raiment, leaving only his head exposed. He despised not being able to walk around with out rustling like a hedge, and the temperature did him no favours. The metal was only separated from his flesh by the thin woolen tunic and leggings he had underneath it, but the eminent cold had sneaked through the holes in the fabric, sucking away his warmth. The woolen garments alone would not have sufficed in the mountain top environment on their own, let alone with metal plating leeching at his skin. He was restless.

Vaian's eyes drifted up to the night sky- in the stew of stars and bright dots, a red cresent and a full white moon glimmered directly over the head of the party assembled on the ridge before the cliff. The moons are at the night's summit, and yet I see no-one before me. This single thought managed to break through his numbness from the night's chill, and he was suddenly aware of how exposed he was. With his group of initiates, he had formed a blockage on the pass that connected the slumbering peak of Eavitus Cyan with the true earth. The descent behind them was sheer, unsurvivable, and on their right, a tall bank of stone and gravel reared up, concealing all but the top of a dense cluster of trees. The section of the path the group were on immediately snaked around to the left in a sharp descending turn. He cleared his raw throat, sending a plume of white from his mouth, and turned his head to the line of men behind him.

"Veilguard!" Vaian bellowed, but somewhat in a hushed tone. The birds fell as silent as the night air. "Torveld's assembly, on Torveld's command, up the bank, stay between the woods and the snowdrifts!" He gestured to Torveld himself with a thin, pale finger, and the huge man waddled over. No horse carried him- none could take his grand gerth. Torveld bent down slightly, so his ear was at the height of Vaian's mouth (while he was still on horseback) and nodded. Whispering now, Vaian said, "Stay in sight of the cairn- if you can't see the purple keystone, move forward. And don't anger any ents that may be in those woods." With another nod from Torveld, he straightened up, pulled his massive battleaxe from his back, and rejoined the line, ushering his assembly to him. Turning more to the left this time, Vaian bellowed, "Eyrana's assembly, split in half. One half in a semi-circular forward barrier up in front, the second half lower down the path in a firm skyward barrier!" and in a quieter, more serious tone, "Any deserter shall be punished for helping the enemy." He nodded towards Eyrana, and she cast a blue light in her hand, before gathering her assembly to her to split them in half. A roar went up from Torveld. With a gravelly cry of, "The Threadbearer commands thee!", his party rushed to the bank and clambered over the lip of the bank, before all that could be seen was the crown of Torveld's head. Then, he hit himself on the top of the head with his hand, and he flashed with purple light before vanishing.

Eyrana's assembly had also started moving, though considerably quieter. Half (seven, Vaian counted) went up, swords out, and ran up the path until the next turning, which bent up to the right, and was just visible through the frosted mist. They then stopped, and formed an arc that stretched the width of the path. Although he couldn't see it, Vaian knew that they would be facing at different angles, scrutenising the mountainside for any movements, unnatural sounds, footprints. Vaian turned to his left and saw the rest of the assembly, Eyrana included, gliding down the path, then turning around to face up the mountain before forming a flawless wall of soldiers in a perfect skyward stance. The sound of metal scraping metal and snow underfoot fractured the still, glassy night. With a final sound of many magical wards being thrown up by the group behind Vaian, the birds resumed their melodies, although much quieter, and the night patched the natural silence back together.

There were now only two people left on the path behind Vaian. They kicked their horses and they cantered to Vaian's side. They were unmasked, like Vaian. To his left was a raven-haired woman, with facial features that marked her like Eyrana, an Arisan Elf. Her name was Gwyena. Her eyes were a hue most unnatural to Vaian as a human, a bright lime green that clashed with her hair. Sweat was visible on her fringeless forehead, beads that were sparse, but there, even in this complete absence of heat. Gwyena has always been one of concern. I hope she can take the pressure of being my squire, brilliantly talented she may be.

On the other side was a slender boy, only just starting to grow the faintest of a wispy beard. Master Quinn was tall, about a head taller than the average, but wiry, and most importantly, young and impressionable. Vaian had great hopes for him- indeed, Quinn was already a tactical mastermind and a brilliant alchemist. When the time came for Vaian to choose the person to take up his mantle, it would be Quinn, unless Gwyena overtook him.

Quinn turned to Vaian, and said quietly, "Threadbearer, I do not wish to be rude, but you shouldn't have called out your orders so clearly. If the allotted time has passed, I believe it to be a safe bet that he will be trying to outwit us."

Vaian sighed, and rubbed an eye. "You are correct of course, Master Quinn, but Damian is too noble for such things. It is beneath him."

This time, Gwyena spoke. She was looking nervous, those lime green eyes darting around venomously. "Sir, are you so... wise to put so much trust in him, someone you have been wrong about before? As your squire, I-" Vaian cut her off with a raised hand.

"You would cancel this entire meeting? You know as well as I do that the hand of forgiveness is outstretched. To pull it back so suddenly will cause him great doubt, and we cannot allow him to leave. Now, as your Threadbearer," Gwyena's face set into a stony stare, "you shall stay your tongues, both of you. I shall not have my command challenged."

"But, Threadbearer, we should change our position quietly, while-"

"Enough, Quinn."

Quinn looked to talk once more, and opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again. Gwyena, meanwhile, had her hands clenched on her reins in silence. And so the tension resumed. The assemblies had not changed their position, and all was quiet. As time passed, from five minutes, to fifteen, to an hour, the growing tension subsided, to be replaced with annoyance and fear for what had happened. If I was wrong, and he has escaped me... The night started to fall into the time before early morning and midnight. Quinn occasionally fiddled with an arrow from his quiver, rolling it in his hands and inspecting its point. Gwyena simply sat upon her horse, feverishly looking into the distance. Her hand never left the grip of her blade at her side. Nothing apart from the odd animal dashing across the snowy path and into the trees happened- not a sound from Torveld's assembly, or even Eyrana's, who were in plain sight. The sky evolved from a pitch black to a dark blue, to a blotchy grey. The moons and stars faded, drowned out by the light of dawn approaching. Eventually, Vaian let out a tremendous sigh.

"Quinn, Gwyena, I seem to be wrong. My judgement grows lacklustre in my old age."

"Threadbearer, no-one can be always right. Perhaps he just wasn't as chivalrous as we hoped." Quinn looked drained from the waiting, but Gwyena looked apprehensive. The fog had cleared slightly, and so the group at the end were visible in much more detail.

"Sir, what does this mean? Has he eluded us?"

"I am afraid, and I mean this quite literally, that he has. Quinn, gather the Veilguard together, and get Eyrana to form a scouting party. Make them take the Face Pendants."

"Face Pendants, Threadbearer?"

"Pendants that have the ability to communicate to another via a face- I must teach you on the more material things in magic, it is quite important- and Gwyena, send a message to the City of Gold, the King must be informed of the situation."

A sudden clamour rose from the group at the far end of the path, as the semi-circular formation, broke, forming two parallel lines. With fires held like lanterns in their hands, they began to make their way to where Vaian and his coadjutants, a figure held between them. Quinn immediately drew his rapier in a fluid motion and held it aloft, while Gwyena drew an elven derandwi, a thin, one-handed blade, curved into a cresent at the bottom, before straightning into a standard sword shape. Her other hand bristled with magic. Vaian, however, let go of his reigns, and dismounted his horse. With his helmet under his shoulder, he put his hand on his sheathed sword, and walked a few steps away from his advisors. The escort ventured closer, and the figure became clearer; illuminated by the golden fires, the tall figure became more detailed, draped in black and blue robes, arms by their sides. Vaian turned to his advisor and motioned to inform the troop further down the path. Still upon his horse, Quinn rode until he was just visible from Vaian's position, then whistled briskly, two high notes. Although they could not be seen, Vaian knew Eyrana was quickly darting up the mountain path. The escort were about fifty metres away, the stomping of their feet now slightly audible over the howling winds. Quinn then returned to Gwyena's side, followed by Eyrana's group. Like ants protecting the colony, they formed a barrier behind Vaian, but in front of Gwyena and Quinn. All of them had their weapons drawn.

The escort stopped a few metres away from Vaian, then broke off to form another barrier behind the central figure. Close up, Vaian could now see his face. Short and ruffled red hair topped a thin face, gaunt in the cheeks. His nose was short and small, lingering above a pair of pale lips, drawn tight. His chin was not visible under a thick red beard which formed a shovel shape. The strangest part of his face, however, were his eyes. They were not one single colour, but an odd gradient of azure blue, bright in the middle and radiating outwards into deeper tones. A spider web of black cracks lay upon them. It was as if the entirety of his eyes comprised of the iris, and the absence of pupils furthered the impression that they were not eyes, but two brilliant stones. The rest of his body could not be made out because of the black and blue robes he was swathed in, except for a vague outline of a corded build. He stepped forward a tentative step.

"I have answered your summons, Threadbearer." His voice was obviously hoarse from the night winds.

"And yet, Damian, you did not answer them at the appointed time. The time was to be at moon summit, but it is moments from the break of dawn. I could give the command to have you taken back to The Harrowed Fort, and not feel to have done any wrong doing." Vaian stood, helmet still beneath his left shoulder, the other crossed over the golden crest on the chest of his raiment- a three pointed star, atop a large upwards facing delta. The one called Damian tensed at this.

"You are a coward and a betrayer of trust. I would not think you a guiltless man as well."

"You are right."

Vaian turned away from Damian and called for Gwyena. A partition in the barrier of soldiers formed, and Gwyena trotted forward on her steed, before coming to a halt next to Vaian. She then proceeded to open her hand in front of her, palm up, as a small flash of purple flared up. There was the sound of parchment tearing before a thin scroll appeared in her grasp. She then unravelled it and began to read;

"On the night of Thirdmoon, The Fourteenth of The Cycle, in the Twenty-Third Year of Aroadac, in the Age of Ilydes, a duel to the death shall occur upon the Mountain of Eavitus Cyan in the Realm of Arcadia. The battle is to take place in view of the Veilguard of Arcadia, and is to be fought between Damian Veriis, of Coldcleric and The Ninth Threadbearer, Vaian Perin, of The City of Gold. The rules are: one- once an opponent is downed, the other is to be unharmed by the Veilguard. Two- the body must be respected, as to be given a proper burial. Three- cowardice by any party of any kind is to be concidered out of the bounds of this temporary truce, and may be termed as hostile. Four- forbidden magics are acceptable, apart from the construction of Shadow Bodies and especially Flesh Bodies, as one of the most abhorrently illegal spells, and the removal of the soul.

"Any breaches of the rules set down by Squire to the The Ninth Threadbearer, Gwyena Thalandre, and the Tactical Advisor to the Veilguard, Quinn Lorretiaus, are to break this temporary truce, and the one responsible shall be deemed outside the terms of this document. Until such a time as the truce is broken, both parties are to be deemed as safe from harm by aggressive means." Gwyena's eyes flicked up to the bank of snow, but she resumed. "May this day be recorded by the Squire, and afterwards to be set within the Esmoran Archives, for all the future to read and remember."

Vaian talked to Damian about the structure of the truce, and the concequences in a low voice. Eyrana, however, looked over to Gwyena, who did not return her stare. Motioning for her assembly to stay in formation, but keeping her voice down, she slowly walked over to Gwyena, who had now rode back to behind the line of soldiers. As she approached, Gwyena looked at her, bowed her head, and whispered quietly, as to not interrupt Vaian.

"Fao elva'ar-aris di sinae, a'e veba'an halus di a'u." From elf to kin, I greet you.

Eyrana responded with,"Talo a'e, halus di a'u." And I greet you.

Although she still abided by the elven traditions, Eyrana did not look pleased. She held out her hand, and whispered in Arisian Elvish for Gwyena to give her the scroll. Even though not many non-elves could understand Arisian Elvish and hardly any Arisian Elves came this far north from the Blade of Aris, they still spoke quietly, to not interrupt Vaian, who seemed to be nearly finished talking, and so to not take any chances, especially so close to the line of soldiers. Quinn, who would almost certainly speak it, did not seem to be there; he had gone to the side of the barrier away from the elves, most likely to get a better view.

Gwyena complied, passing her the scroll she still clutched in her hand. As Eyrana took it, she noticed Gwyena's pale palms were sweaty. The scroll was light, made from a neat parchment, and coiled around the top handhold, made of a dark spruce and furnished with moviaux, a deep purple metal, in a decorative swirl. She then returned to her former position, ignoring Gwyena's whispered line of, "Lahana a'u visian ne Elva'ar-Aya!" May you see the First Elf!

Vaian had now finished explaining what would happen if he were to break any rules. "However," he said, putting his strangly shaped helmet on his head and speaking so everyone could hear him, "if you do beat me in a fair fight, I command my Veilguard to let him walk free from this mountain." Quinn sighed audibly, and put one hand to his eyes, while the rest of the Veilguard chanted a loud, "Yes, Threadbearer!"

"Enough with these frivolities, we must proceed with the scheduled entertainment, Vaian." Damian shouted over the fading chant. He flicked his sleeves back, exposing his hands in thick leather gloves, and attached a hook on the sleeve to a loop just below the inside of the elbow, to stop the sleeves covering his hands again. Vaian, now in full loryvaar plate, awkwardly drew a Luthaic anklesword, a long blade that reached his ankle, notched like a saw on both edges. In a fluid motion, he braced it on his raised left forearm.

A cry of "BEGIN!" went up from Gwyena, ripping though the early morning mist. A thin sliver of sun had now peered over the horizon. Damian moved first.

He flicked both wrists, causing brown orbs of an ethereal mist to blink into existance in his hands, and he brushed his hands down his body, from his head to his shins. Strips of undyed leather swirled like snakes around him, consticting and forming a neat set of thick leather armour with a low noise of leather being contorted. Already though, both of his hands were up again, and with another sharp flick, a hatchet of characteristicly Rethiiric origin seemed to rise from his palm, then float in the air. Running forward, he snatched it up in his left hand while he jumped and outstretched his right arm. A high pitched screech beckoned a ball of blue flame, which flung itself at Vaian. Vaian whipped up his raised forearm, causing a wall of water to greet the fireball, which promptly dissolved into a cloud of steam. At the same time, Vaian also turned around quickly and snapped his arm behind him, sending a torrent of snow to circulate and morph into a white shapeless form, then step into the air, floating around near Damian.

Damian responded with three quick pulses of magma, of which two were blocked by the mess of snow, which darted down to shield Vaian. The third pulse shot through an opening in the melting snow, left open by the two searing chunks of molten rock. Vaian swung his anklesword upwards, occupying both of his hands. It cleft the chunk into two and sent both into the air, where Vaian cooled them and slammed them into the remainder of the watery block of snow. Sidestepping another spell from Damian, this time a burst of sound energy that blasted into the bank of snow, causing a small section to explode into white dust and rocky fragments. This exposed a couple of Torveld's assembly, who quickly scrambled to get out of Damian's line of vision.

It was too late. Damian noticed the two dark forms, and with a look of anger, he snarled. With both hands, he slammed the snow, firing a shockwave against the bank of snow. Vaian lept out of the way, causing him to land heavily on his side. The metal plate had ironically harmed him more. He gazed over at the path of the shockwave, while Damian stood there, panting, both arms tense. Again, the bank exploded, this time in its entirety. Many loud cries of pain echoed through the night, with a couple of Veilguard soldiers being sent spiralling into the forest, before landing heavily with audible crashes and crunches. There was also a loud boom, at least three times as loud as the rest, followed by a tree snapping in the low middle area of its trunk. The top of the tree fell backwards into the forest with a cracking of branches, plus a squeal of terror as tree landed with a soft thud. The few soldiers who had been invisible now were easy to spot in the sunlight, including Torveld, who had obviously been the one who had hit the tree, as he was at its base, grunting and struggling to get up.

Eyrana burst into action. She issued a list of commands, while Quinn helped her position the soldiers with a seires of gestures and plenty of pointing. The soldiers that were hit by the shockwave also tried to mobilize, but only a few were able to walk, let alone run and fight. Damian now was in full swing. When Vaian attempted to strike him with a sweeping attack to his hip, Damian grasped the blade's point and melted it, the intense heat resonating up the sword and melting it up to the morrith-steel hand guard. A jab in Vaian's direction directed the heat at the loryvaar plate, turning it a baby blue and scorching the surface. Vaian wrestled with his inner magic, but the pain in his side was too intense for him too concentrate, even for a simple healing spell to relieve him. He soon fell to his knees, while Damian continued forwards, striking out at the Veilguard unlucky enough to get too close. Eyrana had drawn her two elven derandwi-mayi, smaller versions of the elven blade, and proceeded to fling spikes of ice towards Damian, who took one to the left arm. Dark blood sprayed across the white snow, and while fending the rest of Eyrana's and the other Veilguard's attacks, he melted the ice and closed the wound. Then with both hands-

An awful roar echoed though out the mountain. Trees started falling, crushed under the weight of... something. A rhythmic crunch of trees and massively loud thuds shook the ground, dislodging vast sheets of snow, sending them over the edge of the cliffs where Vaian and the Veilguard had been assembled many hours ago. And as a scream of "Ents! Into defensive positions!" called from behind the destroyed snow bank, the massive head of an ent loomed over the treetops. It was massive, and shaped like a boulder of wood. Matted down were a flat brush of thin branches and vines in an almost childish attempt to form hair. Shoulders followed, like two thick tree trunks wedged onto the vast chest that could have been carved. Patches of bark covered areas ofexposed wood like clothes, while the arms were just tree trunks, hinged in the middle, and forming bulbs of wood which represented fists. Below the massive chest it narrowed until it was like a back bone, curved into a similar shape. At the pelvis, it branched out into a pair of hips... and then as it crashed through the verge of the forest onto the snowy passage, the legs were visible, twin tree trunks, like the arms, but ones that got progressively thicker, until they were a man wide, with their arms outstretched. It was easily taller than the spruce trees, around two hundred feet tall. It roared, and rambled in a gutteral tongue, presumably Entish, or at least a Spruce variant of it.

The order to assume defensive positions could not be followed, for the main priority was to attack Damian. The ent swung low, destroying a large portion of the Veilguard within a few attacks. The club like fists easily broke through the people who tried to defend; the ones who didn't were sent off the cliff or into the air. Damian resumed his attack, stamping the ground. The snow condensed into solid ice, and up leapt two massive Ice Bodies, roughly spherical orbs of ice, with three thick legs bent into a tripod like configuration, shaped like the legs of a giant. From the top where three arms made of ice, quite similar to the legs in formation, but the hands held small spiked spheres of ice, and they proceeded to fire spikes of frost out at anyone who came near. Damian continued pressing forward, and then, with both hands, he swung them outwards, twin streams of white flame vapourising many of his attackers. Eyrana defended herself with a water ward, which protected her from the actual flame, then darted inside Damian's range, and struck him quickly and repeatedly. Damian took a couple of hits, but his armour managed to soak up the damage. With his hatchet, he parried her attacks and swung wildly. Although melee combat was not his best skill, he was able to dodge Eyrana's most lethal attacks and force her back. The ent, meanwhile was decimating the Veilguard. Vaian had managed to rip off the torso of his armour, revealing his thin woolen tunic underneath, with a large round singe mark where the armour had burnt through. While he had managed to heal his side- a broken pelvis, he had noted- his chest was still raw from the blistering armour, and he wasn't able to heal that. This was strange, for there were no spells Vaian was aware of that was able to do this. Pressing onwards, he sent a chain of fireballs up at the ent's face, which roared and backed away. The moment the ent caught alight, Vaian knew he could again press an attack of Damian, who seemed to be preoccupied fighting Eyrana. The ent receeded into the woods, its 'hair' burning, charring the top of the ent's face.

Eyrana was getting too close to the edge of the cliff. Damian was making wide arching swings with his hatchet, up and over. Damian's face betrayed nothing, simply a look of anger plastered it. From the side, Quinn flourished with his rapier, and started striking fast, once, then back out. His attacks were fended off by a ghostly shield, conjured by Damian, that followed Quinn's attacks, ringing out with a high clang of metal on metal. Damian concentrated on Eyrana, and with a brutal kick to the shin, she welped. Quinn could not get past the magical shield, and could only watch as Damian and Eyrana got closer and closer to the vertical cliffs down to the shallow lakes below. Damian ducked under Eyrana's twin slice like a pair of scissors, and grabbed her boot when she attempted to kick him. The shield faultered with a magical slam from Vaian, who was on the other side of the crowd trying to attack Damian, but unable to, for they were hard-pressed to get away from the Ice Bodies. Quinn lunged forwards past the shield but was only able to gash Damian's back before he tackled Eyrana off the edge of the cliff.

Quinn swore vigorously, and looked over the edge. The crowd suddenly stopped fighting, as the three Ice Bodies had exploded apart, showering the Veilguard in cold glassy ice. Torveld had only just recovered from Damian's extraordinarily powerful shockwave spell, and got to his feet, using his battleaxe as a walking stick. The entire calamity had only taken ten minutes since Torveld's assembly had been discovered in the middle of the duel.

Quinn suddenly dived back along with several other soldiers also peering over the crest of the cliff. As strong a voice he could muster, he shouted,"Get back! BACK! Get away from the cliff!" Many soldiers heeded his advice, and they orderly surged away from the cliff, as a massive, animalistic roar sounded from lower down the mountain. Vaian wondered what could possibly happen now. He then realised he hadn't seen Gwyena the entire battle. He worried she may have been killed-

His worries were cut short by a giant dragon, as large as the ent, coloured a deep ocean blue, criss-crossed with black veins. Damian. The pattern of scales was exactly like his eyes. Along his back were a set of thinly partitioned spikes, reaching from his long, muscular tail, along to the very tip of the snout. The face of the dragon was almost identical to the expression of absolute anger Damian had worn while fighting Eyrana. Light grey smoke twisted upwards from the nostrils of the azure dragon, and the teeth were bared, each as long as a man's forearm, and serrated with deep gashes to rip apart enemies quickly. The wings, they were massive. As dragon-Damian twirled in the air, the wings folded, stretched, contorted in a hundred different ways, like blue silk in the wind. Underneath the dragon were four immensely powerful legs, also covered in the metal like blue scales, and at their base were feet with five toes, with long claws protruding from them. When a dragon is aggressive, it will slide its claws into the longest possible position. Vaian had wished Damian had died in the fall, but he expected too much. He had shape-shifted into a dragon form, and had let Eyrana fall. She had been the greatest warrior he had known- better than Torveld in terms of ability- and with this anger propelling him forward, he gathered his thoughts.

"Quinn!" His voice sounded strange now he had a raw chest.

Quinn looked battle-weary and bedraggled, but he whipped around at the call of his name. "Threadbearer!" he responded.

"Did you manage to injure him?"

Quinn looked confused. "A light gash along the small of his back, Threadbearer! Why?"

Vaian was relieved. He told everyone near him to form a block of soldiers, three lines thick. Not many were left, but the ones that were there in formation would be sufficient. With a spell in his hand, he put it to his throat, and called out in a magnified tone to the sky.

"DAMIAN, YOU COWARD! FIGHT ME!"

As the sound of an old man shouting abnormally loudly echoed across the Keljarven Mountains, the azure dragon stopped, then twisted around, its claws out at full length. Vaian worked quickly. He flicked his wrists, two sparks of gold appearing in his hands. A deep humm eminated from his spells. With a slow movement, he placed his hands together with as much force as he could, and waited for Damian to get closer.

He could see the spines along the ridge of Damian's back. Closer.

Vaian could make out the smoke from Damian's snout. Closer.

The Threadbearer could see the clear whites of Damian's eyes. Now!

"Veilguard, Chain spells on the beast!"

Damian had been flying into a trap- now twenty thick chains shot up from the mountain clearing below, ensnaring him. Bright blue fire exploded from Damian's deadly grasp, vapourising the chains, but more chains came, a storm of chains, all wrapping around his legs, his wings, his neck, his tail. As Damian used his draconian sight to see what Vaian was thinking, he knew this was the end. Time seemed to go slowly, as Vaian released his grasp into a two-handed flourish, sending a thin thread of dazzling golden light straight at Damian, encircling his neck. He felt himself losing his dragon form, the wings ripping and failing, his legs morphing back to human size, his scales turning to leather and skin. Finally his snout retracted into his face, forming his nose and mouth, teeth back to enamel stumps. And with a small jerk from Vaian, Damian's head separated from his body, the chains released him from their iron grasp, and the last thing he saw before braindeath was rubies dancing in the mountain air, and the sun on the back of his neck, and he was falling to the shallow lakes below...