Chapter 6 - Trial in the Mire Prt 1
As Don, Caria, Dvrik, and Leinara prepared their gear for the journey into Gorgon's Mire, the sky above Adraels City darkened with a brooding overcast, as if foreshadowing the perilous path ahead.
Little did they know that far to the southeast, through a shattered pass and beyond a ravaged border, a desperate alliance was forming—one that could ignite the first sparks of war.
******
The murky scent of sulfur and wet decay hung thick in the air. Gorgon's Mire stretched before them—a roiling expanse of bogs, mist-veiled groves, and gnarled black trees that seemed to twitch in the corner of one's vision.
Don stood at the edge, his black-and-gold plate armor faintly steaming from the morning's chill. Beside him, Caria surveyed the mist with narrowed eyes, her white tiger mount emitting a low growl.
"Charming place," she muttered, adjusting her lightning staff.
Leinara, mounted on a, black horned lioness, gave a small, bitter chuckle. "It only gets worse the deeper we go."
Dvrik dismounted and crouched low, examining faint claw marks in the mud. "Shadebeasts passed through here. Three of them—maybe more. Recently."
Don nodded. "We move cautiously. This isn't just a training mission anymore."
They ventured deeper, navigating narrow, half-submerged paths. The silence pressed against them. Even the wind dared not blow here.
Caria suddenly paused. "Stop," she whispered. Her crystal eyes shimmered faintly as she tapped into her gift. "Something's... off. There's a magical distortion ahead. Not natural."
Then they heard it. A low, echoing growl—followed by the hiss of air being sucked violently inward.
From the mire's gloom emerged a towering shape: a Gorgon Wyrm—scaled in moss-black armor, eyes glowing with baleful green flame. Runes flickered along its sides, broken and ancient.
"It's a cursed guardian," Caria breathed. "This thing isn't just a beast—it was bound."
"Bound by what?" Leinara asked, drawing her sword.
Don drew his blade. "Let's survive this first. Then we ask questions."
The Wyrm lunged with terrifying speed for something so massive—its sinewy body cracking branches like twigs as it burst through the veil of fog and vines. Its fanged maw, lined with teeth like jagged obsidian, opened wide with a guttural screech that rattled the bones.
Don leapt aside, grabbing Caria's arm and yanking her out of the creature's direct path. "Dvrik, flank right! Leinara, with me!"
The group scattered with practiced precision.
Dvrik broke into a sprint, his dual axes humming with faint blue runes as he darted along a shallow ridge to gain the high ground. Leinara, with her blade already glowing with fire sigils, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Don as the Wyrm coiled back, its red-glowing eyes fixed on them with unnatural awareness.
"It's not just cursed," Caria muttered from behind, eyes narrowed as her staff pulsed with lightning. "It's aware. It's guarding something."
"We're in its domain," Leinara said grimly. "This place reeks of ancient binding magic."
The Wyrm's tail whipped like a catapult. Don shouted, "Down!" as he dove to cover Caria. The ground exploded where they'd stood, spraying chunks of mud and stone.
Dvrik launched from his perch, burying both axes into the back of the beast's neck. The Wyrm shrieked and thrashed, flinging him off like a ragdoll—but not before Dvrik's enchantments sparked, tearing gashes in its armored hide.
Caria planted her feet and raised her staff. Lightning arced down from the roiling clouds above, striking the staff's tip before lancing into the Wyrm's side. The creature howled, convulsing violently as smoke poured from the scorched wound.
Don seized the moment. "Now!"
With a battle cry, he charged, blade cloaked in black flame—his family's feared and rare fire. He leapt, driving the sword deep into the beast's exposed neck. The Wyrm thrashed, but Don held on, twisting the blade and channeling the black fire through the wound. The creature's body jerked, its screech dwindling into a low, pained hiss before it slumped forward, massive frame crashing into the ground and shaking the mire itself.
Silence followed, broken only by ragged breathing.
Don pulled his sword free, eyes scanning the carcass.
Caria approached slowly, her brows furrowed. "It wasn't just cursed. Look."
The runes—faint, ancient, and half-erased—glowed along the Wyrm's spine. "Binding glyphs," she said. "This creature was forced to guard something for centuries."
Leinara wiped blood off her blade. "Then the question is… what was so important it needed this watching over it?"
From the brush behind the dead beast, a faint, unnatural hum began to resonate. The mire stirred again—whispers, low and ancient, echoed between the trees.
Don turned to the others, eyes hard.
"We follow the path. But be ready—this wasn't a guardian. It was a warning."
The unnatural hum grew louder as the group pressed forward, weapons drawn and eyes scanning the gloom. The trees seemed to lean in, their twisted trunks forming a funnel toward a hidden destination. Even the beasts—Caria's white tiger and Leinara's lioness—tread softly, ears flattened, sensing something beyond comprehension ahead.
"The air is getting heavier," Dvrik muttered, wiping muck from his brow. "It's like the mire is...watching."
Caria nodded slowly. "It is. The Wyrm's death stirred the ancient magic. Whatever it was guarding is now... aware of us."
Don didn't slow. "Then we show it we're not afraid."
After a hundred more paces through knee-high sludge and shivering willows, they came upon a ruin half-swallowed by the mire—an ancient stone structure crowned by vines and black moss. A crumbling stairway descended into the earth, where the whispering grew louder. Arcane sigils shimmered faintly along the ruin's edge, some pulsing in sync with the party's heartbeats.
Leinara stepped forward, blade still glowing. "This is Old Warsenian. Like from the Cataclysm era."
Dvrik grunted. "You mean from when the gods supposedly shattered the land?"
"No," Caria said. "Before that. This is precursor magic—something buried by both time and fear."
Don stepped onto the first stair. The runes flared to life with a sickly green glow, and the fog above thickened, sealing off the light like a great beast exhaling its final breath.
A voice—not a voice, but a presence—brushed against their minds.
"Blood of kings… fire of old… enter, if you dare break the pact."
The words echoed in their skulls. Caria's eyes widened. "It knows you, Don."