32. Devastation

***Eira***

“*Beware*...” The voice echoes again, reverberating through the chamber like a spectral wail. I will never forget that voice. The Dragon Lord's tone carries an unnatural resonance, a cold whisper that seeps into my bones. The room itself seems to shrink under its weight, the very air growing thick and oppressive. The words cut through me, each syllable a dagger to the fragile sense of peace I had begun to grasp.

“*Something is coming*...” My heart hammers against my ribcage, each beat a desperate call to action. My fingers tighten around Ikyn’s, grounding me in the present. Our eyes meet, his gaze searching mine for answers I do not have. The fear within me is tangible, coiled around my resolve like a serpent waiting to strike. Yet, beyond the fear, there is determination, burning bright and unyielding. I will not let this warning go unheeded.

The whispering fades, leaving behind a silence so heavy it threatens to suffocate us. Ikyn sits up beside me, his mind already racing ahead, strategizing as he always does. “We have to prepare,” I whisper, my voice barely audible but firm.

His grip on my hand tightens. “We will.”

A sense of foreboding settles over us like a storm on the horizon. We do not know what form this threat will take, but we know we must be ready. We have fought too hard, sacrificed too much, to let our kingdoms fall now. And yet, despite the tension in the air, I find strength in his presence, in the unwavering bond that has carried us through countless battles. The night outside is dark and restless, the stars swallowed by ominous clouds. But even as the shadows stretch long and deep, I remind myself—we are the light that will pierce the darkness. We will not falter. We will not yield.

As if sensing my thoughts, Ikyn lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to my skin. “We will face what we must, but we will do so together.”

“Together,” I echo, holding onto the warmth of his promise.

Ikyn and I take to the skies in our dragon forms, our wings slicing through the heavy air as we move with practiced ease. The winds howl around us, carrying the scent of burning embers and molten stone. Ahead, the mountain looms, its entrance hidden among jagged rock and molten veins. Ikyn dives into a flow of lava. I hesitate only for a breath before following, hoping my body can withstand the heat.

Though I can no longer see him in front of me, I can feel him. His presence seeps through the heat around me and I trust I'll make it through.

“Eira.” Ikyn’s voice threads through my mind, steady but laced with concern. “Are you certain about this? The Dragon Lord does not parley lightly, and his words often bear poison.”

I break through the pool of lava, emerging into the darkness of Iliyana's cavern. Something is wrong. The ever-present hum of magic is fainter. The fae who once danced among its branches, the centaurs who guarded the oasis, the merfolk who sang their ethereal songs—gone. Silence stretches around us, oppressive and unnatural. Ikyn tenses besides me. He senses it too. “We have no choice, Ikyn,” I murmur, brushing dust from my tunic. “If his resurrection comes to pass, the world as we know it will be swallowed in fire. We must stop it before it begins.”

I do not hesitate. My feet carries me forward through the darkness, my memory guiding me when my vision cannot. I know this place. I have nothin but time navigating these tunnels, learning their twists and turns. And then I see her. Iliyana lies in her bed, the same bed she offered me may moons ago. Her once-radiant form now frail and weak. Her silver hair spills across the roots like strands of moonlight, her breath shallow, her skin pale.

“Mother,” Ikyn breathes, rushing to her side.

She does not acknowledge him. Instead, her eyes—once sharp as a dragon’s—lock onto me. Despite the exhaustion weighing her down, her fingers twitch, reaching for my hand. “My Queen,” she murmurs, her voice thin as spider silk. “You have done well, Dragon Queen. But your journey is not yet over.”

A lump forms in my throat. I grip her cold fingers, blinking against the sting of unshed tears. “Iliyana…”

She exhales, her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. “My time is ending,” she whispers. “You must let me return to the Gods’ Creation. There, my spirit will feed the land and fortify what has been weakened.”

Ikyn shakes his head, his throat working as if to argue, but Iliyana silences him with a single glance. I press my lips together, nodding in understanding. There is no room for argument. The world demands its sacrifice, and Iliyana has already made her choice.

Without another word, Ikyn lifts her effortlessly into his arms, cradling her as though she is made of glass. The journey is quiet, solemn. The air hums with an unseen force as we reach the heart of the Gods’ Creation. Before us, the great tree stands in eerie silence, its bark shimmering with an otherworldly glow. It is here that Iliyana will take her final breath.

As Ikyn sets her down within the hollow, the world seems to pause. The centaurs emerge from the shadows, their hooves silent against the sacred ground. They lower themselves onto one knee, heads bowed in reverence. The fae, once hidden among the branches, now glow brightly, their luminous forms illuminating the space with an ethereal light. From the waters beyond, the nymphs rise, their hair trailing like river reeds in the wind. The mermaids break the surface of the lake, their voices weaving a haunting hymn of farewell.

Iliyana’s breathing slows. Her body, once a force of nature, sinks into the roots as though she is becoming one with them.

Her gaze finds mine. “Eira.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it carries the weight of prophecy. “You are the key. The only one who can bring an end to the Dragon Lord. Do not doubt yourself.”

Tears spill down my cheeks, but I do not look away. I grip her hand tightly, holding onto the final moments of her presence. And then, with a final exhale, she is gone. The Gods’ Creation stirs. The great tree shudders, and suddenly, blossoms burst forth from its branches in a cascade of color. The earth trembles—not in fear, but in welcome. The air vibrates with power, the land itself absorbing Iliyana’s essence.

The moment Iliyana takes her last breath, the world around us shifts. The Gods’ Creation trembles, its roots tightening around her form as if cradling its lost child. A deep pulse resonates through the oasis, and the gathered mythical beings turn as one, their eyes locking onto me. The centaurs kneel, their solemn faces awaiting command. The fae, their glow now brighter, hover above, silent but watchful. The merfolk cease their hymn, their gazes unwavering. The nymphs, usually fluid and untamed as water, remain still. They are waiting.

I stand frozen, the weight of their unspoken expectation pressing down on me. My fingers still curled around the now-empty space where hers had been. Ikyn moves beside me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, anchoring me in the storm of emotions. His hand finding mine, his grip unwavering. But even as his warmth steadies me, I know what this means.

Iliyana is gone and they now look to me to lead. I swallow hard, my heart aching with loss, but I lift my chin. The Dragon Lord’s warning still echoes in my mind, but now, so does Iliyana’s final words. I am the key and I will not fail. I straighten my spine, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. "The centaurs will guard the tunnels leading here. No one—friend or foe—will step foot within these sacred grounds without their knowledge."

The centaur leader bows, a silent promise of obedience. I turn to the fae and the nymphs, their luminous forms flickering in the dim light. "You will guard the Gods' Creation itself. Protect it with everything you have. If anything unnatural stirs, you must snuff it out before it can take root."

A chorus of nods follows, their magic already weaving into the air, strengthening the land Iliyana gave her life to protect. Lastly, I shift my gaze to the mermaids who float at the water’s edge, their haunting eyes locked onto mine. "Your song will be our shield. Sing to the land, to the sky, to the very magic that flows through us. Strengthen us with your voices. We will need it."

The mermaids begin a low, melodic hum, their song vibrating through the air, filling the cavern with a pulse of ancient power. My shoulders relax as warmth seeps into my bones, the exhaustion of our journey momentarily lifting.