Though initially quite confused by the odd development, Adula spent the next several days within the village of the deranged burn victims in a state of utter satisfaction.
Frankly, it had been far too long since anyone had treated her properly.
The humans worshipped her with an enthusiasm that bordered on hysteria. Whenever she shifted her body or lazily stretched her wings across the village center, the scarred mortals would immediately throw themselves face-first into the dirt before her. Burnt lips muttered reverent prayers while feverish eyes followed every movement of her graceful form as though witnessing divinity itself.
It was only correct.
The villagers brought offerings constantly and entirely unprompted. Every morning fresh cattle would appear before her resting place: sheep, pigs, goats, cows and horses dragged by the worshippers eager to earn her favor. Some of the more zealous villagers painted crude draconic sigils across stones, huts, and even their own blistered skin using ash and blood alike. Others merely sat nearby in silent reverence, staring at her crystalline body with expressions so intense that Adula could practically feel their adoration physically warming her.
It was nice.
Very nice, actually, especially after spending so much time among all those mortal Inbetweeners who, frankly speaking, failed to appreciate her magnificence nearly as much as they should have…though admittedly, part of the issue was that many among them were somehow even stronger than she herself was, which was deeply unfortunate for her pride.
Not that she disliked serving Lady Ranni, of course.
The Lunar Princess had defeated her fairly after all, overcoming Adula's strength through honest sorcery and superior wit. Such things mattered greatly and so Adula had given her oath willingly after that defeat. Furthermore, the witch had proven surprisingly reasonable afterward, allowing Adula dignity rather than chaining or diminishing her like some lesser beast.
More importantly, Ranni shielded her from the ancient coot that possessed an obsession with hunting Great Bayle's descendants bordering on outright insanity.
Honestly, Florissax's hatred felt deeply unfair.
It was not as though Adula herself had ever met Great Bayle. Most of what she knew of the great progenitor came from Old Greyoll's tales. Rather than feeling any personal loyalty towards the progenitor, Adula merely found the notion of descending from such a legendary being rather flattering.
So yes, Adula held no complaints regarding her service beneath Lady Ranni.
Still...
It was pleasant to once again be appreciated appropriately.
Entire days passed in comfortable indulgence as Adula lounged through the center of the settlement while worshippers scurried around her like devoted ants tending their queen. Sheep vanished between her jaws by the dozen while pigs roasted beautifully beneath glintstone fire before she devoured them in single bites.
Eventually the village itself began running dangerously low on livestock, but this did not stop the offerings.
Instead, groups of villagers simply ventured farther outward into surrounding settlements and wilderness to acquire more animals. Many returned stinking heavily of fresh human blood and smoke, making it painfully obvious that the acquisition had likely gone rather poorly for someone involved.
Adula did not particularly care though, as that sounded like a human problem. The important thing was that food continued arriving and that it remained delicious.
The villagers themselves seemed utterly delighted whenever she accepted their offerings. Many would simply sit nearby watching her eat with wide, shining eyes. Others openly wept whenever Adula used her flames to cook their gifts, apparently finding it utterly beautiful.
Honestly, humans were strange creatures.
Still, after several days of indulgence, Adula reluctantly decided enough was enough. As enjoyable as lounging around while being worshipped undoubtedly was, she had not come to this miserable, magic-starved land merely to spend her days eating livestock and receiving admiration.
And now that she had sufficiently recovered from the unpleasantness of uneventful travel, it was finally time to pursue it.
The dragoness, currently stretched lazily across the center of the village, slowly raised her head. Her movement alone caused nearby villagers to flinch instinctively despite their devotion, several worshippers immediately throwing themselves into the dirt, but she ignored them.
Instead, she turned her gaze toward the village’s apparent spiritual leader, silently commanding him forward with a shake of her head.
The man approached immediately.
Frankly, he looked worse than the others. His body was draped in bones, charms, strips of blackened cloth, and melted ornaments that clattered softly as he walked. Great portions of his flesh looked less burned and more entirely destroyed long ago, skin fused together around his body into grotesque ridges of scar tissue. And yet despite his horrific appearance, there was a fervent intensity burning within his gaze that Adula increasingly associated with worshippers of flame.
Though admittedly, considering how many of them intentionally set themselves ablaze, she was fairly certain these villagers might have belonged to some sort of fire cult long before her arrival.
As the shaman reached her, he bowed deeply.
"Does the great wyrm require anything else?" the shaman croaked reverently. “Our hunters still roam beyond the village in search of a worthy sacrifice, yet should your hunger remain unsated, we shall gladly offer our own flesh in the meanwhile.”
Adula opened her jaws…then stopped herself from accepting the offer immediately. The restraint required for such an act was genuinely impressive and, in her opinion, deserving of considerable praise.
"...Yes," she rumbled instead after a painfully long pause, hot air curling from between crystalline teeth. "I came to this place for a reason."
The dragoness slowly raised her head higher, nostrils flaring as she tasted the air. Even now she could smell it, faint beneath the overwhelming stench of ash, blood, burnt flesh and unwashed humans, but unmistakable nonetheless.
The scent lingered heavily across the entire region, saturating the mountains and valleys alike strongly enough that Adula had found this village merely by following the trail. Everywhere around her carried traces of him, old yet potent, as though the land itself had absorbed his presence over countless years.
"I can smell my target," Adula declared, her tail lazily sweeping across the dirt behind her and accidentally flattening part of a wooden fence. "His scent is strong here, yet I cannot locate him, as everything surrounding this village is stained by his lingering presence."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Where can I find the one who rules these mountains?"
The shaman blinked slowly, then understanding spread visibly across his ruined features, the old man for some reason becoming oddly delighted by the question.
"Ahhh..." he rasped softly, his voice almost jubilant. "You speak of your ancestor. The god of fire who blessed these valleys with holy flame long before your coming."
Adula stared at him, rather confused.
Ancestor?
The dragoness had absolutely no idea what the burnt little mortal was babbling about. Frankly, she rather doubted any actual ancestor of hers remained alive to this day, be it in the Lands Between or in these mundane lands. Ranni's mate was a thorough male when it came to hunting drakes for sport and glory, after all. Between him, the old coot and various other lunatics, most wandering drakes tended to end up very dead.
Then again, this was probably merely another example of human irrationality.
Mortals constantly invented bizarre meanings and relationships for things far beyond their understanding and Adula had long since abandoned any attempt to comprehend why. Perhaps the villagers simply believed every dragon descended directly from whichever dragon happened to live nearby. Or perhaps they merely assumed all dragons were close kin by default, rather than simply coming from a common, distant ancestor.
Humans did tend to think strangely, after all.
Still, she did not particularly care what title the shaman attached to the male so long as he finally led her toward him.
“…So,” Adula pressed patiently, resisting the urge to shake the answer out of him physically, “does this mean you know where I can find him?”
The elder visibly straightened.
“Ah, yes. Yes, I know.” he replied eagerly. The burnt man clasped his ruined hands together. “Long ago, our forefathers would journey there bearing offerings for the fire witch and your ancestor. They would brave the wyrm’s sacred flames and emerge stronger for enduring such a holy trial.”
Adula twitched slightly at the mention of the word ‘witch.’
While she very much doubted these sad, magic-starved lands could ever produce a sorceress remotely comparable to Lady Ranni, the existence of one still explained several things rather neatly. A witch powerful enough to command a dragon would certainly explain why the male had remained hidden in this barren corner of the world for so long despite the scarcity of magic.
Frankly, that alone made the situation significantly more promising.
Not only because a magically inclined mate would naturally possess superior traits and intellect, but because it also provided Adula with an excellent conversation starter.
After all, she too served a witch… a vastly superior witch, certainly, but still.
"Then lead me there,” Adula commanded simply.
And so they went.
But despite the promising beginning, the journey through the mountains proved...destructive.
Not intentionally on Adula’s part, of course.
The problem was simply that the pathways winding through the mountain forests had clearly been designed for humans, goats, and similarly undersized creatures, while Adula happened to be very large and magnificent.
Ordinarily she would have simply flown, as that would have been faster and more dignified. Unfortunately, the old shaman possessed no wings and would likely have died instantly if she attempted carrying him through the skies. As such, Adula found herself forced to follow him on foot like some common beast of burden, which was frankly humiliating.
The narrow mountain paths barely accommodated her massive body. Trees splintered loudly whenever her tail drifted too far behind her while entire stretches of undergrowth vanished beneath her claws. Several smaller trees ceased existing altogether once Adula forced herself through particularly narrow passages, trunks exploding apart beneath the pressure of her body. Birds burst screaming into the skies long before she arrived while distant animals fled blindly through the forests in terror.
Adula pretended not to notice.
Ahead of her, the shaman stumbled onward faithfully despite the devastation unfolding around him. More than once the old man had to desperately throw himself aside whenever Adula casually demolished another section of woodland by existing too near it, but to his credit, the little mortal never once complained.
Honestly, these burned villagers were fairly decent worshippers.
Eventually the forest began thinning and, after a while, the cave finally appeared before them.
It rested hidden within the side of the mountains itself, partially concealed behind hanging moss, twisted roots, and ancient stone blackened by age and soot. Cool air drifted outward from the entrance carrying traces of stagnant magic alongside the scent Adula had been following for days.
The dragoness immediately narrowed her eyes.
Male. Large one at that.
The scent was overwhelming here now, heavy enough that Adula could feel her pulse quicken slightly, every instinct within her sharpening at once.
The shaman stopped several paces from the entrance before pointing weakly toward the darkness.
"It is here, great wyrm." he whispered reverently. “Long ago the fire witch and her dragon emerged from this place demanding offerings from our ancestors, yet many generations have passed since any soul last witnessed them.” Something reverent flickered across his ruined features. “None dare enter now, unwilling to disturb their slumber.”
Adula studied the cavern silently.
Contrary to...well, practically every other miserable corner of Westeros she had visited thus far, there was actual magic inside. Weak by her standards, certainly, but present nonetheless. She could sense it lingering faintly beneath the stone like dying embers buried beneath ash.
The dragoness slowly nodded.
“Remain here,” she ordered. “I shall enter alone.”
After all, she did not particularly require a chambermaid for this endeavour.
Without even waiting for acknowledgment, Adula lowered herself and pushed into the cavern entrance. Stone scraped softly against crystal as her massive form forced its way through the narrow opening. Fortunately, the cave proved just large enough to accommodate her considerable size, if only barely.
Darkness swallowed her quickly as she moved deeper beneath the mountain, glowing eyes piercing effortlessly through the gloom while the outside world slowly faded behind her.
The cavern stretched far deeper than expected.
Stone walls glittered faintly with moisture and mineral veins while cold water dripped softly somewhere in the distance. The air smelled still and untouched, as though no living thing had disturbed this place in decades, giving credence to the elder’s earlier words.
Adula moved carefully deeper inward, claws scraping softly against stone as she advanced through the darkness.
Then, eventually, the cavern opened into a final chamber.
It was immediately obvious that a mortal had once lived here, but whatever this place had once been, time had claimed nearly all of it. Old chests and storage containers rested scattered throughout the cavern, their wood swollen and sagging from centuries of moisture and neglect. Rusted tools lay abandoned across collapsed tables while fragments of pottery and furniture littered the floor beneath layers of dust.
The witch’s dwelling, most likely.
Then Adula noticed the skeleton.
An old human corpse rested slumped near the far wall beside a rocky outcropping, fragile remains partially wrapped in decayed cloth and jewelry blackened by age. Unlike most ancient skeletons Adula had encountered, this one remained surprisingly intact. More importantly, there were still faint traces of stale magic clinging to the bones.
That, then, was likely the fire witch the villagers kept speaking about.
It was difficult to determine precisely how the woman had died. The skeleton showed no obvious signs of violence and the surrounding chamber lacked any evidence of struggle.
Frankly, it did not particularly matter.
If anything, the corpse merely removed one potential complication from Adula’s plans. A living witch fiercely attached to her dragon might have proven irritating to deal with.
Then Adula forgot entirely about the skeleton, because she finally saw him— the dragon male.
At first she genuinely mistook him for part of the cavern itself. The male lay curled tightly around himself deeper within the chamber, his enormous body entirely calcified beneath layers of stone-like growths and mineral deposits. Rock and crystal coated scales, wings and limbs until he resembled less a living creature and more some ancient rock formation.
He was larger than Adula herself. Even dormant and buried beneath the stone, his size suggested strength. His body appeared lean and powerfully built beneath the calcified layers, long body hinting at a dragon made for speed and violence.
Unclaimed male— the realization caused satisfaction to bloom warmly within Adula’s chest.
After all, it had been quite some time since she last possessed a proper mate. The Wisdom of the Moon carried many impressive beings certainly, but dragon males remained in distinctly short supply. Mostly because that old coot possessed a tendency to attempt murdering any drake unfortunate enough to approach.
Honestly, it made procreation unnecessarily difficult.
So once Adula discovered traces of this male’s scent lingering through the mountains, she had followed eagerly and with considerable hope.
Only to find...this.
The dragoness narrowed her eyes while studying the stone-covered body carefully.
Contrary to her initial fears, however, the male was not dead, something she could sense now. Faint life still lingered beneath the petrification, the male simply dormant. Most likely, this miserable land’s scarcity of magic had forced the male into hibernation. The witch had probably sustained him through her sorcery, but her death deprived him of the only sufficient magical nourishment available within these barren lands.
And so he slept, awaiting until there was enough ambient sorcery for him to awaken once more.
Fortunately for him, Adula possessed magic and would be quite pleased to awaken the male personally. After all, beginning a relationship with someone being indebted to you was generally considered an excellent foundation.
Knowing her next course of action, the glintstone dragon inhaled deeply.
Magic gathered between her jaws immediately, blue sorcery flashing across crystalline teeth while glintstone energy surged through her throat in shimmering currents of moonlight. The air within the cavern rapidly grew colder, stone groaning softly beneath the pressure of condensed magic.
Then Adula unleashed her breath, a concentrated stream of glintstone flame erupting across the petrified dragon’s body.
Blue fire engulfed the chamber instantly.
The cavern vanished beneath the sorcery as magical flame washed across stone, debris and ruins with violent force. Rotting furniture ignited immediately while old cloth and parchment dissolved into ash within moments. Cracks spread across the cavern walls as heat and magic flooded the chamber. Only the skeleton remained untouched, the witch’s remans curiously resistant to the dragonfire.
Adula barely had time to register the oddity, as the effect upon the male became immediate.
Stone cracked sharply, while magic surged violently through the chamber. The calcified shell coating the dragon’s body began melting away piece by piece while deep vibrations rumbled through the mountain itself. Layers of mineral and hardened stone shattered apart, exposing scales hidden beneath centuries of petrification.
Then, the dragon began to stir.
At first it was sluggish and weak, as though the dragon was only half-awake beneath the stone prison encasing him, but then it grew violent, the entire mass shifting as the ancient body reawakened.
With a thunderous roar, the dragon finally burst free from his stone prison entirely.
Rock exploded outward across the cavern floor while enormous wings unfurled with enough force to send dust and debris scattering violently through the chamber. Entire slabs of calcified stone shattered apart as the dragon finally straightened, muscles flexing powerfully beneath dark scales newly freed from their prison.
Adula's eyes widened slightly in appreciation.
Oh. He was magnificent.
Large and healthy, not ancient enough for his scales to dull, yet clearly beyond youthful immaturity. His body possessed the lean, powerful build of a hunter rather than the bloated heaviness some older dragons developed over millennia of inactivity.
The newly awakened dragon staggered briefly upon unsteady limbs before fully straightening to his height, releasing another roar that shook dust from the cavern ceiling.
Then he looked around, slow and confused, most likely still struggling to comprehend the world around him after so long asleep. The male’s gaze swept across the ruined cavern before finally landing upon the skeleton near the wall.
Immediately, something in his posture shifted.
The dragon froze, then slowly lowered his head toward the remains. Even without words, the sadness became unmistakably clear through the drooping posture of his wings and the quiet rumble escaping his throat. Grief lingered openly within the massive creature as he stared at the witch’s remains.
Adula allowed him the moment.
After all, it was better for him to confront the loss now and leave old attachments behind entirely rather than cling to ghosts later. Whatever relationship existed between dragon and witch had ended centuries ago and now he should focus fully upon her instead.
Eventually, the male finally lifted his head once more and looked directly at Adula.
Immediately the dragoness straightened proudly.Her wings spread slightly while crystalline scales shimmered beneath lingering blue flames. She adjusted her posture instinctively to better display her size and elegance, ensuring the newly awakened male received a proper first impression.
After all, appearances mattered.
"I greet you!" she declared regally. “Long have you remained sealed within this stone prison, yet no longer. For I, Adula, have freed thee from your cage and—!"
The male stared at her…then suddenly screeched something utterly incomprehensible, a scream without any meaning beyond a feral intent, stopping Adula in her tracks.
What?
Before she could react further, the dragon abruptly surged toward her with startling enthusiasm and lowered his head directly toward her hindquarters, as if trying to smell it.
Adula’s eyes widened in absolute horror.
Was he—
Was he attempting to sniff her rear?!
CRACK.
Her tail lashed instinctively, the impact echoing thunderously through the cavern as it struck the male across the snoot hard enough to send him reeling backward across the stone floor with a startled yelp-like screech.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Adula roared furiously, utterly shocked by this perverted behaviour. Could it be that the Westerosi dragons were a bunch of uncultured brutes, who didn’t care about propriety and romance?!
The male blinked at her from where he sprawled awkwardly across broken stone, then tilted his head slightly. Another softer screech escaped him this time, this time more submissive and confused.
Adula slowly felt dread settle into her stomach.
No.
No no no no no.
She looked him straight in the eye, searching for any sign of intelligence, but the male simply blinked, his expression utterly vacant and gaze empty.
Adula stared at him in mounting horror.
The petrification must have damaged her future mate’s brain!