Trials of the Valley

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Very few remember what it was like before they came, though a decade had yet to pass. The heinous thunder of wingbeats, spanning the sky itself, turned light breezes into manic hurricanes that cascaded across the land. The chirping of swallows, the singing of crickets, the sweet taste of peaches fresh from the Great Tree - all a distant myth.

What many once considered a sacred garden, the paradise that sits at the heart of the realms, the last place left untouched by the tampering of mortals, is now a desolate ravine. A deep scar that has left Riveria split in two. A barren wasteland that very few dare to cross. Save for those without a choice.

Under the thick and heavy sky, where ominous eyes hunt with a guarded intensiveness few can match, one woman wearily stumbled her way through the wasteland. Dressed in dusty, tattered robes with singes of black on the end of the seams, arms tightly clutching a bundle of cloth to her chest. She had a frayed shawl wrapped firmly over her head, shoulder and mouth, a last defence against the toxic, ashen air. Her dark brown eyes struggled to remain open while she kept her breathing shallow. Her shoes were worn and black from the incessant heat emanating from the cracked rock upon which she trudged.

A soft rumbling below, followed by a piercing hiss, made the woman suddenly flinch as a hot stream of ash burst beside her on its climb to the rancid sky. The boiling agony shot up her leg as the scent of burning fabric crept through her shawl. The crackling hiss of blackening cloth sounded alarming to her ears. Yet, she didn’t fall. She dared not stop. She cast the pain from her mind as she dragged herself onwards across the treacherous terrain.

She only made a few short steps before the bundle she held began to stir. A cry instantly pierced through the fabric, sending shrill echoes across the harrowing plains. Her eyes shot open, her chest tightening as panic overtook her heartbeat. She needed to open it, but she couldn’t, not out in the open. Her eyes darted across her surroundings, but all the ash and dust in the air obscured her view. She could not tell rock from cave or something else. She prayed that the dust cloud provided even a little cover from the sky. Her hopes fell when a shape in the fog caught her eye. Something was there. And it was starting to move.

She had no idea where she was running to. All she knew was that she had to get away. Her leg was burning and the frayed fabric branded her flesh, yet she didn’t care. She ran on and on, dodging rock and crevice almost instinctively. All that mattered was running as far away as possible.

Then came the roar. A deafening, harrowing bellow, louder than the proudest horn. The woman barely held in her voice as her ears screamed in agony, her world swaying and trembling as she tried to keep her footing. The cries from her bundle were drowned out as a howling blast of wind drove into her back, lurching her forward so hard it almost sent her tumbling. Her vision darkened as she let the wind drive her deeper into the Valley, prayers for escape her sole comfort.

When the wind eventually died down, the woman forced herself to stop as her knees gave way. The cries hadn’t ceased, but the air felt lighter against her shawl. She rubbed the sand out of her eyes enough to realise she was in a cave. It was dark and long, with the only source of light emanating from the cracks in the ceiling above her. Though the dust storm dimmed the full beams of the sun, it was bright enough to see her immediate surroundings.

She lowered her shawl, elated to breathe freely again. The air was stale and cool, but breathable. Sighing deeply, she dragged herself to the nearest wall, setting her back against it as she tending to her crying bundle. She unwrapped it only slightly, just to see the tiny, terrified face that rested within it.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she cooed, smiling as she cradled her child. She hummed a soft tune, one her own mother used to sing for her, and it worked like a charm, calming the tiny infant as she sunk back into slumber. “We’re safe now. This will all be over soon.”

And, for a moment, she believed it. Seeing the tiny child in her arms, listening to her light breathing, she began once again to believe they had a chance.

Only for that smile to fall into terror, as a tremendous thud shook the cave. Then another. And another.

The woman started trembling again, only to wince as she remembered her agonising leg. She lifted the charred hem of her robes and felt herself becoming lightheaded and ill from the view. Over half of her leg shone a raw, tender red. Blisters of various sizes forming along the edges of exposed skin. She gingerly peeled off the fabric from the exposed flesh, only to bite her lips to quiet the pained whimpers escaping her lips. The fabric seared into the skin with such intensity that her leg shook and buckled.

As the thuds grew louder, the tremors grew more and more violent. As the noise grew louder, the cracks in the ceiling above grew a little wider; a shower of dust and rubble rained down upon them. She clutched her baby tightly against her chest, praying in silent desperation as the air grew hot. The scent of charred flesh and rock washed over her like a wave. Echoes of a hearty, fiendish growl careening across the walls of the cave.

The child began to stir once more as the tremors ceased. Two sounds permeated through her tiny yet sharp ears: a thick, rigorous growl, mixed with shaky, sobbing breathes. These sounds, coupled with the rising heat, added to the suffocation of her bonds. No matter how tightly her mother held her, she was at the mercy of everything around her. Thus, she did the only thing she could do: cry.

She opened her tiny mouth and wailed out her frustrations. Her cries enveloped the cave, with a pitch that would match the storm outside, strong enough to drown out the hearty growls looming over her. She cried to her mother, hoping for some freedom from the vices that held her, which was met by another deep growl as a thick gust of air brushed her face. It was rancid; the sensations something she’d never experienced before, and it made her cry louder. But, despite the heat, it wasn’t overwhelming.

“NO!”

Her mother’s despairing screams ceased her cries. Why was she scared? What was happening? She had to know. She couldn’t remember when she last opened her eyes, she’d always been too tired to try. But, as her mother clutched her tightly, her screams growing louder, she compelled her eyes to open.

And through those eyes, one brown, one green, looking over her mother’s trembling shoulder, was a sight she would never forget. A massive, towering monster, the biggest she’d ever seen. It looked down at her, its eyes narrowed as they bore into hers. She felt entranced, staring into those eyes; those luminescent silver eyes that exuded an unwavering, terrifying aura.

With a growl, the eyes drew back as its neck extended to the broken ceiling, revealing itself completely to her. Its skin was black as midnight, almost invisible within the shadows of the walls were it not for the stream of dark-green crystals gleaming down its neck. As its mouth began to open, gusts of that same rancid air leaked from its teeth. Teeth longer than she was tall, sharp as swords. And, in its gaping maw, a light shone. A fierce, orange light.

Never had she witnessed such intensity.