Without giving the groaning man on the cobblestones a second glance, Ruby shot a final, dismissive look at his two stunned companions. They seemed to get the message, exchanging nervous glances before hastily grabbing their fallen leader under the armpits and dragging him away down the street, eager to avoid any further confrontation.
"Right," Ruby said, turning back to Clive and dusting off her hands as if she'd just finished a minor chore. "Consider me warmed up."
Clive shook his head, a mixture of exasperation and grudging admiration on his face. "Your 'warm-ups' are going to get us thrown in a cell one day," he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "Come on, let's get out of Oakhaven before someone official takes notice."
They continued towards the northern gate without further interruption. Passing through the heavy timber archway felt decisive, like shedding the skin of civilization. The sounds and relative safety of Oakhaven faded behind them, replaced by the open road and the call of the wilder lands ahead.
They traveled north for the rest of that day and into the next, the landscape steadily transforming. The gentle hills and farmlands gave way to steeper, rockier foothills, the air growing crisper and colder. In the distance, the jagged, imposing silhouettes of the Wyvern's Teeth mountain range pierced the skyline, their peaks often obscured by swirling, fast-moving clouds – a visual confirmation of the sudden storms mentioned in Clive's research. The easy banter of the inn faded, replaced by the focused quiet of two partners concentrating on the task ahead, their senses alert to the changing environment.
During a brief stop to refill their waterskins from a cold, clear mountain stream and consult the rough map they possessed, Ruby shielded her eyes, squinting up at the formidable peaks looming closer. "Alright," she said, securing her waterskin back onto her pack. "Let's track down this flying beast, get what we need for the bounty, and be done with it." She glanced over at Clive, adjusting the fit of her Heartwood Armor. "The sooner we can deliver proof of kill back to Iron Hall, the sooner we get paid. And frankly, I'm looking forward to sleeping somewhere reliably safe again."
Clive nodded, carefully folding the map and tucking it away. He scanned the rugged slopes rising before them, his mind reviewing the details he’d learned. "Agreed. Iron Hall can wait, but the Wyvern won't." He adjusted his own pack, feeling the familiar weight of his supplies and the cool, latent power of the Root Stone against his side. "The territory marked on the bounty notice starts just beyond that next ridgeline. Eyes open, Ruby. This is where it gets dangerous."
Together, they shouldered their packs and set off again, leaving the last traces of tamed land behind them. They pressed onward, deeper into the wild.
The climb into the foothills of the Wyvern's Teeth was arduous. The path grew steeper, the air thinner and colder, and the wind carried a biting edge that promised harsher weather ahead. As dusk began to settle, painting the dramatic cloudscape above the peaks in strokes of fiery orange and deep violet, they found a modicum of shelter beneath a rocky overhang, screened by a cluster of resilient, wind-twisted pines.
Working together with the quiet efficiency born of shared experience, they made camp. Ruby scouted the immediate area, ensuring they weren't stumbling into anything else's den, while Clive gathered what little dry brush the sparse vegetation offered. A single, carefully controlled spark from his fingertip coaxed the reluctant tinder into a small, cheerful blaze, pushing back the encroaching chill and deep shadows.
They sat close to the fire, sharing portions of the dried meat and hard biscuits from their supplies. The silence that fell wasn't awkward or tense; it was a companionable quiet, filled only by the snap and crackle of the flames and the mournful sigh of the wind scouring the rocks above them. The vast, wild emptiness of the mountains surrounded them.
Clive watched the flames for a long moment, the flickering light playing across Ruby's features as she stared into the embers, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. He found his own mind drifting back over the chaotic events that had bound their paths together – the corrupted horrors of Woodcrept, the desperate fight against Gornevan, even the brief, ugly confrontation back in Oakhaven. They were stark reminders of how precarious their lives were, and how much they had come to rely on each other without ever really speaking of it.
"Ruby?" he began, his voice quiet, barely more than a murmur above the wind.
She looked up, her eyes questioning in the firelight.
"I was thinking," he continued, choosing his words with uncharacteristic care, "back in Gornevan's cave... and even before that, in the forest." He paused, meeting her gaze. "Things got complicated. Dangerous." He looked down at his own hands for a moment, as if seeing the sparks leap from them again. "I know I can get... focused. Tunnel vision, especially when dealing with magic like that. Sometimes I don't see everything else that's happening." He looked back at her, his expression serious. "But I knew you were there. Covering angles I couldn't, handling threats before they reached me. I was... grateful." He managed a small, slightly awkward smile. "More than I likely said at the time."
Ruby seemed a little surprised by his unprompted admission. She picked up a stray twig and poked idly at the edge of the fire, her gaze averted for a second. When she looked back up, a faint, wry smile touched her lips. "Well," she retorted, though her usual sharp edge was softened considerably, "someone has to keep an eye on the pyromancer who seems determined to poke every monster nest he finds." She shrugged, the smile lingering. "You hold up your end too, Clive. You stepped up back there in Oakhaven, played the 'protective mate' surprisingly well." Her smile widened slightly, turning into a genuine grin. "And whatever that crazy Spark Mode was... it got the job done." She looked into the fire again, then back at him. "We're a strange team, you and I. But... somehow, it seems to work."
Their eyes met across the dancing flames, and in that shared glance, a deep, unspoken understanding flowed between them. They were from different worlds, driven by different needs, yet circumstance and shared peril had woven a thread of genuine trust and reliance. It wasn't built on grand declarations, but on quiet competence, on knowing the other would be there when the fighting started, on moments like this – acknowledging the unlikely bond formed in the crucible of their journey. Clive offered a rare, quiet smile in return, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the campfire.
The conversation meandered after that, touching on speculation about the Wyvern's habits based on Clive's readings, planning their route for the following day. The brief moment of sentimentality passed, leaving behind a comfortable ease. They hadn't reached their destination, the hardest part of their quest undoubtedly still lay before them in the high peaks, but as they eventually banked the fire and settled into their bedrolls under the vast, star-dusted mountain sky, the simple acknowledgment of their partnership offered a quiet warmth against the cold, lonely wilderness.
As they pressed on the next day, the climb growing steeper and the wind carrying the sharp scent of impending rain, the relative intimacy of their recent conversations lingered. They walked in a comfortable silence for a time, focusing on navigating the increasingly difficult terrain. It was Ruby who broke the silence again, predictably steering it back towards Clive's past.
"So," she said, easily hopping over a small crevasse Clive had to more carefully detour around, "you mentioned mercenary work didn't quite live up to the 'experience' you'd read about." She glanced back at him, a curious glint in her eye. "What sort of thrilling jobs did that involve? Protecting turnip carts? Chasing runaway goblins?"
Clive offered a wry smile, appreciating her attempt to lighten the topic. "There was some less-than-glamorous caravan guarding, yes," he admitted. "And some bodyguard duty for merchants whose ethics were... flexible." His smile faded slightly. "Other jobs too. Tracking missing persons... or people who simply didn't wish to be found." He navigated the rocks, his expression clouding over with a memory. "There was one contract... retrieving a supposedly valuable stolen artifact. Turned out the thief was just a starving kid, and the 'artifact' was worthless junk." He shook his head, the self-reproach clear in his voice. "My methods for stopping him were... excessive. Involved setting fire to a warehouse district." He sighed. "That was one of the last jobs I took with that company. The coin stopped being worth the compromises, or the kind of people I found myself working alongside."
He paused, then made another attempt to turn the tables, however briefly. "Doesn't sound like your kind of work. Did you ever run with a crew, or have you always preferred working solo?"
Ruby's deflection was immediate and smooth. "Always found my own company more reliable," she said lightly, offering no room for follow-up. "Less chance of friendly fire or arguments over loot." She quickly pivoted back. "But burning down a warehouse district over junk? Sounds like maybe your control slipped again?" Her question was deft, bringing the focus right back to his magic and past actions.
"No," Clive corrected quietly, his gaze distant for a moment. "That time... the fire was intentional. Poor judgment fueled by misplaced anger." He didn't elaborate further, but the quiet admission added another layer of regret to the picture he was painting of himself.
Ruby simply nodded, absorbing this new detail without judgment, filing it away with the others. She continued to ask questions as they walked – about the principles of pyromancy, about places he'd traveled during his mercenary days, about the accident that had first derailed his life – always listening intently, her curiosity seemingly endless when it came to his story. She remained a locked vault regarding her own.
Clive, perhaps finding a quiet catharsis in sharing pieces of his burden, or maybe just sensing the unshakeable walls Ruby kept around her own past, answered her questions honestly, though sometimes with guarded brevity. The one-sided flow of information continued, deepening Ruby's understanding of the complex man walking beside her – the scholar, the accidental wielder of immense power, the regretful mercenary, the seeker of redemption. She, however, remained an enigma, her past hinted at only by her skills and her resolute silence. They climbed higher, the jagged peaks looming ever closer, their partnership strengthening through shared experience and Clive's unexpected openness, even as Ruby kept her own history shrouded in shadow.
As Clive finished speaking about the warehouse fire and his disillusionment with mercenary work, a thoughtful silence fell between them, stretching longer than usual. He watched Ruby move ahead, navigating a tricky section of the trail with practiced ease. Her earlier comment about preferring her own company echoed in his mind. He found himself wondering about the person behind the capable, guarded rogue – had she always been alone? Emboldened, perhaps unwisely, by his own recent confessions, he decided to probe, albeit hesitantly.
"Ruby," he began, his voice softer, less certain than when discussing tactics or lore. "You said before... you prefer your own company." He paused, fumbling slightly for the right words as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Does that... well, have you always traveled solo? Or has there ever been anyone... significant... sharing the road with you?" The question felt clumsy, too personal, hanging awkwardly in the thin mountain air as soon as he'd asked it.
Ruby stopped walking abruptly, her back still mostly to him. He saw her shoulders tense almost imperceptibly for a brief second. When she turned around, slowly, any trace of the earlier conversational warmth was gone. Her expression wasn't hostile, but rather one of cool, deliberate amusement, though her eyes held a clear warning sign – like a ‘trespassers will be dealt with’ notice nailed to a locked gate.
"Significant?" she repeated, one eyebrow arching slightly. She let out a short, dry chuckle that held no real humor. "Let's just say my romantic history is less 'epic saga' and more 'pamphlet nobody bothered to read', Clive." Her gaze was direct, unwavering. "It's heavily fortified, rarely visited, and frankly, completely irrelevant to finding out where this Wyvern sleeps." Her tone turned brisk, all business. "Now, are we admiring the scenery, or are we climbing?"
The message couldn't have been clearer. The door to that part of her life was slammed shut, locked, and likely guarded by traps. Clive felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck, instantly regretting the question. He had definitely overstepped the unspoken boundaries she so carefully maintained.
"Right," he murmured quickly, immediately dropping the subject and looking away towards the steep path ahead. "Sorry. Climbing. Definitely climbing." He forced his attention back to their surroundings, scanning the rocks above for loose stones or signs of passage. The brief, awkward foray into her personal life was over, replaced once again by the practicalities of their journey. Ruby turned without another word on the matter and resumed her steady ascent, the invisible walls around her personal history firmly back in place.
The higher they climbed into the Wyvern's Teeth range, the more treacherous the landscape became. Jagged peaks tore at the sky, and the wind howled with a relentless fury, funneling them towards a narrow, high pass. There, sheltered between two monolithic spires of dark rock, was the entrance they sought – a wide, dark opening leading directly into the mountainside. It wasn't a natural cave; the edges were too smooth in places, hinting at artificial shaping, though large, deep gouges near the threshold spoke clearly of the passage of something immense and clawed. A faint, sharp, acrid odor, like sulfur and decay, drifted out on the wind – the unmistakable stench of a Wyvern.
"This has to be it," Clive said, his voice raised slightly against the wind's roar as he pulled his cloak tighter. "The way up."
Ruby nodded, drawing her daggers, their familiar weight reassuring in her hands. Clive held his own hands loosely at his sides, ready to summon flame at a moment's notice. Taking a deep breath, they stepped through the opening, leaving the howling wind behind.
Inside, the air was suddenly still, cold, and heavy with the smell of old bones and the lingering Wyvern scent. They stood in a vast, spiraling hall carved from the very heart of the mountain, winding steadily upwards into darkness like the interior of some colossal nautilus shell. Faint, ambient light filtered down from unseen fissures or openings far above, revealing walls scarred by claw marks and occasional patches of scorched rock. The floor was littered with bones – some massive, some disturbingly humanoid – grim testament to the lair's primary inhabitant.
They ascended cautiously, their footsteps echoing unnervingly in the vast space. They had navigated less than two full turns of the upward spiral when shadows detached themselves from ledges high above on the curving walls. Three figures dropped to the floor ahead with unnerving silence, landing in low crouches.
They were reptilian, humanoid creatures, standing roughly human height but leaner, more predatory. Their bodies were covered in tough-looking scales of a dull, stony grey. Clawed hands flexed, leathery wings remained tucked tightly against their backs, and long, whip-like tails lashed side to side, betraying their agitation. Their heads were distinctly draconic, with elongated snouts and eyes that glowed with a cold, reptilian intelligence. Draconians – the mountain’s native guardians, or perhaps servants of the Wyvern itself.
Without a sound or signal, they attacked. One launched itself forward, staying low, its powerful tail sweeping across the floor in a wide arc aimed at Ruby’s legs. Simultaneously, the other two sprang towards Clive, claws extended, seeking to overwhelm him with a frontal assault.
Ruby reacted with instinct honed by countless battles, leaping high over the lashing tail, her Heartwood Armor allowing for effortless agility. She landed silently and immediately pressed the attack against the Draconian that had targeted her, her daggers becoming blurs as she aimed for the gaps between scales at its joints.
Clive met the charge of the other two head-on. A wave of intense fire roared from his hands, washing over the attackers. They hissed, recoiling slightly, their tough hides smoking and charring but clearly offering significant protection against the heat. One beat its wings powerfully, creating a downburst of air in an attempt to buffet the flames, while the other used the curved wall as a springboard, launching itself at Clive from the side, claws slashing. Clive conjured a shimmering shield of heat, deflecting the claws with a screech of energy on scales, while simultaneously launching smaller, targeted bolts of fire at their wings, hoping to cripple their mobility in the enclosed hall.
Ruby found her opponent surprisingly durable. Its scaled hide turned aside glancing blows, and its combination of claw swipes and tail whips forced her to remain constantly moving, dodging and weaving. She focused on quick, precise strikes, aiming for its eyes, throat, and the softer underbelly, using her speed to stay ahead of its powerful but less agile attacks.
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Clive, meanwhile, was fully occupied with his two assailants. They attacked with coordinated, predatory cunning, using their wings for quick bursts of movement and balance, their claws and tails creating a dangerous whirlwind of attacks. He kept them at bay with walls of fire and targeted heat lances, constantly moving, seeking an opening, trying to overheat sections of their tough scales enough to cause real damage.
The fight echoed through the spiraling hall – hisses, the roar of flames, the scrape of claws on stone, the sharp clang of Ruby's daggers finding purchase. After several tense moments, Clive managed to engulf one Draconian's left wing in persistent, searing flame. It shrieked, a high-pitched reptilian sound, and crashed heavily to the floor, unable to maintain its balance. Clive dispatched it quickly with a concentrated beam of heat to its skull.
Seeing its comrade fall, the Draconian fighting Ruby hesitated for a fatal second. Ruby exploited the opening instantly, darting in low and hamstringing it with a deep slash behind the knee, then finishing it with a swift, clean thrust of her dagger into its throat as it collapsed.
The third Draconian, witnessing the swift demise of its companions, let out a final, furious hiss. It didn't press the attack; instead, it launched itself upwards with powerful wing beats, scrambling back up to the shadowy ledges high above and vanishing into the darkness further up the spiral hall.
Silence descended again, heavy and echoing, broken only by the duo's ragged breathing. "Well," Ruby panted, wiping a smear of greyish blood from her cheek with the back of her glove. "So much for a quiet climb. Looks like the Wyvern keeps guards."
Clive nodded grimly, extinguishing the flames still consuming the fallen Draconian's wing. "And now they know we're here." He looked up, following the path of the escaped Draconian into the darkness above. Their presence was announced. They exchanged a determined look, then turned their attention back to the ascending path. The way forward was guarded, but it was the only way to the peak. They continued their climb, higher into the hostile heart of the mountain.
They pressed onward and upward, the spiraling hall seeming to coil tighter as they ascended. Shadows deepened in the recesses, and the faint light filtering from above grew sparser. The silence felt heavy, expectant. After the first skirmish and the escapee, they moved with extreme caution, checking every alcove, scanning the high ledges that vanished into darkness above.
The anticipated attack came not from one direction, but several. Five Draconians, their scales a darker, more obsidian hue than the first group and seemingly thicker, emerged simultaneously. Two dropped from ledges directly ahead, blocking the path, while three more materialized from shadowed side passages along the curve, effectively flanking them. They moved with a chilling, coordinated purpose that spoke of practiced ambushes.
Clive reacted instantly, unleashing a rapid volley of firebolts towards the flanking group, hoping to break their formation. But these Draconians were ready. Two of them snapped their leathery wings forward in perfect unison, creating a powerful downdraft that met his fire head-on. The flames distorted, dissipated, washing over their heat-resistant scales with significantly less effect than before. The lead Draconians advanced steadily, using the hall's natural curve to minimize direct exposure, their eyes fixed on him with cold calculation. Clive felt a surge of frustration; his fire, usually so decisive, was being actively countered.
While Clive struggled to find an effective angle or concentration of heat against the coordinated defense, Ruby exploded into motion, engaging the two Draconians blocking the path ahead. Her daggers flashed in the dim light, a whirlwind of precise strikes and evasive maneuvers. She was holding her own, but Clive could see she was fully occupied.
One of the larger Draconians flanking Clive, sensing his difficulty, suddenly broke formation. Ignoring the weaker flames licking at its side, it lowered its horned head and charged him like an enraged bull. Clive started to gather energy for a concussive heat blast, but the creature was too fast, too powerful. It slammed into him with brutal force before his defense was fully formed.
The impact sent Clive staggering backward, losing his footing on the sloping floor. He tumbled down the curve of the spiral path, rolling several yards before crashing hard against the outer wall of the lower section, the air driven from his lungs. The world spun for a dizzying moment.
Before he could even push himself up, the Draconian that had tackled him landed heavily beside him with a scrape of claws on stone, quickly followed by another that had broken off from the fight with Ruby. He scrambled backward, pain flaring in his ribs, trying desperately to summon a potent defense. But the impact had rattled him, his magical reserves felt sluggish, and the Draconians were advancing, claws slashing, their tough hides shrugging off the weak bursts of flame he managed to produce. He parried a claw swipe with a hastily formed heat shield that flickered dangerously, realizing with dawning horror that he was cornered, injured, and his magic wasn't stopping them.
Suddenly, Ruby's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding – though not with words, but with action. She must have seen him fall, seen the Draconians follow. Up the spiral, she’d performed some incredible maneuver to disengage. Now, she sprinted down the curve towards him. One of the Draconians lunged at the vulnerable Clive. Faster than thought, Ruby hurled one of her daggers. The blade spun through the air with unerring accuracy, sinking deep into the Draconian's eye socket. It let out a choked, gurgling shriek and collapsed instantly.
Without pausing, Ruby drew her second dagger and flew at the remaining Draconian looming over Clive. Taking it completely by surprise from its flank, she became a blur of motion, landing swift, deep cuts to its leg tendons and neck vertebrae before it could even fully turn to face her. It staggered, roared in pain, then crumpled beside its companion. Farther up the hall, the remaining Draconians, seeing two more of their number fall so quickly, hesitated, momentarily regrouping in the shadows.
Ruby instantly retrieved her thrown dagger, then rushed to Clive, offering him a hand. "Get up! You okay?" she demanded, her voice laced with adrenaline as she scanned the upper passage warily.
Clive coughed, the pain in his ribs sharp, but took her offered hand, letting her pull him somewhat unsteadily to his feet. "Okay enough," he rasped, catching his breath. "Thanks, Ruby. My fire... it's barely scratching these ones. Their hides are too tough, or they're prepared for it." He looked at the dead Draconians, then up towards the darkness where the others waited. "We can't rely on just burning our way through."
The realization settled heavily between them. His magic, their most powerful weapon until now, had limitations against these specific foes in this environment. They needed to be smarter, more coordinated. They needed Ruby's precision and lethality just as much, if not more. Regrouping quickly, they caught their breath, the close call a stark reminder of the danger. They had to keep moving upwards, towards the peak and the Wyvern, but now with the chilling knowledge that the path was guarded by enemies who couldn't simply be incinerated.
They moved with a grim, heightened awareness, the last fight a stark lesson in the Draconians' resilience. Each shadow in the spiraling hall seemed deeper, each echo more menacing. Ruby now took a slight lead, her movements economical and silent, her eyes constantly scanning for threats, while Clive covered their rear and the oppressive darkness above, his hands held ready, though a new uncertainty about his magic's effectiveness gnawed at him.
After navigating another long, upward curve of the hall, Ruby paused, glancing back at Clive. Her expression was serious, pragmatic.
"Clive," she began, her voice low and direct, "no offense, but your usual firestorm routine isn't cutting it against these thick-skinned brutes. It's like you're just making them angry, not actually hurting them much before they close in." She saw the flicker of frustration in his eyes and pressed on. "We can't afford another situation like that last one, with you getting separated and nearly skewered."
She met his gaze squarely. "Can you do anything else with that pyromancy of yours? More subtle, maybe? Like... weapon enchantments? Could you make my daggers burn hotter, or something? Give them an extra bite to get through these scales?" She tapped the hilts of her weapons meaningfully. "Perhaps it's better if you focus on that for now. Play support. Buff my attacks, watch our backs, maybe try to disorient them. Let me handle the close-quarters work until we either find this Wyvern or figure out a more reliable way to damage these guards. What do you think?"
Clive listened intently, rubbing his chin. Her assessment was blunt but undeniably true. His standard offensive spells had been shockingly ineffective against the tougher Draconians. "Formal enchantments, the kind that last, are a different discipline entirely, Ruby," he admitted, sighing softly. "Not typically in a pyromancer's toolkit." He paused, his brow furrowing in concentration. "But... the principle of intense heat..." He thought of the controlled, explosive bursts of Spark Mode. "I might be able to temporarily imbue your blades with extreme, focused heat. Channeling a controlled spark, almost, into the steel itself. They would burn on contact, certainly. It would be incredibly draining for me to maintain, and the effect would fade quickly once I release the flow of magic, but..." He looked at her, a spark of his own lighting his eyes. "...it could give your strikes the edge they need to pierce their hides and damage the flesh beneath."
A keen interest sharpened Ruby’s features. "Temporary is fine, as long as it works. Blades that burn as they cut?" A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. "I like the sound of that. Definitely better than you getting tossed around like a rag doll again because your fireballs are just giving them a tan."
Clive managed a wry smile. "Point taken. Alright, it's a plan. Next time we encounter them, give me a signal, a moment before you engage fully. I'll try to... supercharge your daggers. You focus on speed and precision, hitting those vulnerable points. I'll keep the heat flowing into them as long as I can and try to provide any other magical support or distraction I can manage from a safer distance."
Ruby nodded, a new, focused determination settling over her. "Good. A plan where I get to stab things more effectively is always a good plan."
With their revised strategy in place, a subtle shift in their dynamic occurred. Ruby now the clear point of attack, her skills paramount, while Clive prepared to adapt his powerful magic into a supporting role, channeling it not into widespread destruction, but into focused enhancements for his partner. They resumed their ascent, the tension undiminished, but now armed with a new approach to the dangers that lurked higher in the spiraling hall.
The air in the spiraling hall grew colder and more oppressive with each upward turn. They moved with a tense, coiled vigilance, every shadow a potential threat, every echo a possible enemy. Ruby, with her enhanced senses and agility, took the lead by a few paces, her daggers held ready. Clive followed, his mind focused, ready to enact their new strategy.
The attack came without warning as they navigated a particularly tight bend where the ceiling arched low overhead. Four Draconians, their obsidian scales gleaming dully in the faint light, dropped from hidden crevices in the rock above. Two landed squarely in the path before Ruby, blocking their advance, while the other two materialized with unnerving silence directly behind Clive, sealing off their retreat. It was a well-executed ambush.
"Clive, now!" Ruby snapped, her voice sharp and urgent as she dropped into a fighting stance, her daggers held defensively but not yet committed to an attack.
Clive was ready. He nodded curtly, his hands already moving. Closing his eyes for a heartbeat, he drew upon his pyromantic energies, but instead of projecting them as gouts of flame, he meticulously channeled the searing heat, guiding it with intense concentration into two fine, shimmering tendrils that connected with the steel blades in Ruby's hands.
The effect was almost instantaneous. Ruby’s daggers began to glow, first a dull, angry red, then rapidly brightening to a fierce cherry-red, then almost white-hot at the very edges. A visible heat haze shimmered around them, and tiny, incandescent sparks danced along the superheated metal. A faint hiss, like water on a hot forge, filled the air. The effort was clearly immense for Clive; sweat beaded on his forehead almost immediately, and his jaw was clenched with the strain of maintaining such focused power.
"They're hot!" he grunted through gritted teeth, his voice strained. "Go!"
Ruby didn't need telling twice. The moment Clive gave the word, she exploded into motion, lunging at the two Draconians blocking her path, her superheated daggers leading the charge.
The impact of her first strike was dramatically different from their previous encounters. She feinted, then brought her right dagger slashing across the nearest Draconian's outstretched forearm. Instead of just cutting, the blade burned. The creature let out a piercing, reptilian shriek of pure agony as its tough scales blackened, smoked, and sizzled where the glowing dagger made contact, the acrid smell of seared flesh instantly filling the cramped passage. It recoiled violently, clutching its smoldering arm, its companion momentarily hesitating, clearly shocked and unnerved by the unexpected nature of Ruby's burning weapon.
While Ruby pressed her advantage against the two in front, Clive spun to face the Draconians attempting to ambush him from behind. His primary focus remained on channeling energy into Ruby's daggers, a task that demanded intense concentration, but he couldn't afford to ignore his own attackers. With one hand still metaphorically 'feeding' the heat to Ruby, he used the other to unleash a quick, broad wave of less potent fire. It wasn't designed for deep damage, but to create a roaring, fiery barrier between him and his assailants, forcing them to keep their distance and giving him precious seconds.
Ruby fought like a demon possessed, her movements a blur. Her glowing daggers were no longer just sharp steel; they were instruments of fiery torment. Each slash and thrust left behind deep, cauterized wounds that sizzled and smoked, bypassing the Draconians' natural resistances. They roared in pain and confusion, their thick hides offering little defense against blades that bit like concentrated fire. Ruby danced around their clumsy, pain-fueled attacks, the intense heat radiating from her weapons making them flinch and recoil.
Clive gritted his teeth, pouring more energy into Ruby's blades while keeping the two Draconians behind him at bay with intermittent bursts of defensive flame. He could feel his magical reserves draining at an alarming rate; maintaining such intense, focused heat on two separate points was far more taxing than unleashing broad attacks.
One of the Draconians fighting Ruby finally succumbed, collapsing with a gurgling shriek as multiple burning gashes across its chest and limbs proved too much. Its companion, seeing its fate and terrified of Ruby's blazing weapons, tried to disengage and scramble back up the wall, but Ruby was too quick. A perfectly aimed thrust with her superheated left dagger plunged deep into its throat, ending its struggles with a final, choked hiss.
She spun instantly, ready to aid Clive. He had managed to badly scorch the wings of one of his attackers with a well-aimed fire blast, grounding it and leaving it vulnerable. The last Draconian, seeing itself alone and facing not only Ruby's terrifying burning daggers but also Clive, who was now turning his fuller attention towards it, let out a frustrated screech of defiance and launched itself back up into the shadowed crevices above, retreating into the deeper darkness of the hall.
As the last enemy vanished, Clive let out a shuddering gasp and released the flow of heat to Ruby's daggers. The angry red glow faded from the blades, leaving them looking like ordinary steel once more, though faint tendrils of smoke still curled from their edges. He sagged against the rock wall, sweat dripping down his face, the sudden cessation of intense magical output leaving him feeling weak and shaky.
Ruby looked at her daggers, then at Clive, a grimly satisfied, almost feral smile on her face. "That," she panted, "worked. Worked damn well, pyromancer."
Clive managed a tired grin in return. "Effective," he agreed, pushing himself upright. "But incredibly draining." He looked up the dark, spiraling passage. "Let's hope there aren't too many more welcoming committees before we reach the top."
Their new strategy had proven its worth, giving them a crucial edge against the resilient Draconians. It was costly, especially for Clive, but it worked. With a renewed, albeit wary, sense of confidence in their ability to adapt and overcome, they prepared to continue their ascent, the silence of the hall pressing in around them once more.
The final stretch of the spiraling hall grew rougher, the carved stone giving way to natural, jagged rock. The air tasted sharper, colder, and ahead, a distinct brightness cut through the gloom – the exit. With muscles burning from the relentless climb and senses sharp after their encounters with the Draconians, Clive and Ruby pushed through the last few yards.
They emerged onto the windswept summit of the Wyvern's Teeth. It wasn't a sharp pinnacle, but a wide, desolate plateau of shattered rock and scree, exposed to the full fury of the high-altitude winds that howled around them, driving flurries of sharp ice and snow horizontally through the air. The sky overhead was a turbulent grey cauldron of storm clouds. In the center of this bleak expanse lay a vast, shallow depression, clearly a nesting area, littered with colossal, bleached bones – some disturbingly large, hinting at the fate of previous challengers or prey – and the occasional glint of twisted metal or dulled gemstones scattered amongst the debris like morbid decorations.
And dominating the nest, curled like a malevolent mountain range unto itself, was the Armored Wyvern.
It was breathtakingly massive. Larger than any beast depicted in the bestiaries Clive had studied, its sheer scale was humbling and terrifying. Its hide wasn't merely scaled; it was encased in thick, overlapping plates of what looked like fused volcanic rock or raw, unrefined iron, jagged and obsidian-dark, gleaming dully even under the stormy sky. This formidable armor covered its immense back, its powerful limbs, its long, serpentine neck, and even stretched partway down its colossal, leathery wings, giving it the appearance of some ancient, living war machine. Its great, wedge-shaped head rested upon its folded forelimbs, eyes closed against the stinging wind. Steam plumed faintly from its nostrils with each slow, powerful exhalation.
Perhaps it was the shift in the wind as they emerged, or some deeper, primal sense alerting it to their intrusion. One immense eyelid, covered in smaller, interlocking plates, peeled back. A slitted pupil, glowing like molten gold, fixed upon the two small figures standing at the edge of its domain.
Slowly, deliberately, the Wyvern’s head lifted. The low rumble began deep within its chest, a sound that vibrated through the soles of their boots, more felt than heard. It pushed itself upwards, its armored limbs scraping against the rock, unfolding its gigantic wings with a sound like grinding stone, casting an enormous, predatory shadow across the plateau. It lowered its armored head, regarding Clive and Ruby with an ancient, chillingly intelligent malice that promised annihilation.
Then, it opened its maw, revealing rows of dagger-like teeth, and unleashed a deafening, primordial roar that blasted across the peak, momentarily overpowering the howling wind and echoing like thunder amongst the surrounding mountains.
Clive and Ruby instinctively took a step back, bracing themselves against the raw power projected by the creature. Ruby’s daggers were already in her hands, held low and ready, though she looked impossibly small against their titanic adversary. Clive felt his own pyromantic energy surge in response, the fatigue from the climb momentarily forgotten in the face of the ultimate challenge their quest had led them to. They exchanged a single, fleeting glance – grim determination mirrored in each other's eyes. Words were unnecessary.
The Armored Wyvern lowered its head again, steam billowing more thickly now from its nostrils as it drew in a great breath, preparing to unleash its fury. On the storm-lashed summit, dwarfed by the plated behemoth, the pyromancer and the rogue stood their ground. The hunt was over. The real fight was about to begin.
