⟬ Moon Crescent Isle, a short time earlier-- before dawn-break... ⟭
The clouds weren't going to last for much longer.
They were almost out of rain.
Once the rainfall stopped... then maybe everyone on the island would realize just how many of them had died.
Tiny little humans. Tiny little elves. All focused on their own thing.
No one would pay attention to the little goddess hiding in the sky.
Jerim Jya stretched out her arm, rotating her winged staff in her palm.
It adjusted the magnification magic in her full helmet.
One twist cut through the darkness.
A half-pull cut through lies and deceit.
Bopping it a little in the right place saw through the walls built around the hearts of men.
Jerim swept back a lock of her green hair behind an ear...
Her mate, Rixen, always asked if he could borrow the helmet.
'Just for an hour,' He'd say.
Of course, she said no.
Even if he asked ten hundred times, she'd say no.
He'd only use it for something stupid and immature-- like peeping.
It was so dumb.
Rixen was a grown adult.
--and a dragon!
...Maybe it was some sort of *guy* thing?
Ugh.
Men.
Even the most stand-up and reliable guys had their flaws... some more than others.
Jerim looked down upon the remaining cultivators of the Hidden Lake sect.
...There were more clouds than people alive.
She had given them and their Chosen One an important task... to save the world.
Honestly, they weren't doing a very good job.
...But anyway--
The Prophecy was annoyingly cryptic about how exactly the world had to be saved.
She and the rest of the Draconic Court had a pretty good guess, though. It had something to do with preventing the Elf King from amassing power.
So... at least slowing him down for a bit was a step in the right direction.
In that sense, the Sect Elder had the right idea. He went looking for their Sect Ancestor and all together, they tried to meet the elves on the shore.
Huh.
...What was the sect leader's name? Or their annoyingly young Ancestor's name?
Jerim Jya didn't bother committing them to memory.
They weren't really significant... and she didn't like thinking about guys that weren't her mate.
Suddenly, Jiang Ying Yue came to mind. She was super sweet.
That little Chosen One went to the wrong side of the island.
She died.
If she was destined to live for a bit longer, they might have even been friends.
But... the fates were cruel.
She didn't even die to the Elf King.
Really... it was a huge disappointment.
The annoyed Jerim Jya tapped her cheeks, left and right. Pom pom pom.
She was really the wrong dragon to go to Moon Crescent Isle.
Neerin Neelia had the mind for tactics. Rixen was a battle maniac.
...Kyrj Kira'ak was mostly a creepy loser, but he always kept the right spell hidden beneath his wings.
Instead of her... If any of them were to name a Chosen One out of the Hidden Lake sect... that would've been so much better.
Jerim wasn't an Oracle or a Tactician. She wasn't a Battle Dragon or a creepy Mystic.
She was a Harbinger. She was a glorified messenger.
Sometimes, she'd sit around and try to work out what the messages meant-- that was just basic courtesy. Often, she'd sit around and watch-- half out of curiosity, half to report to the Court in full.
That's what she was used to. It's what she was good at.
For ten thousand years or more, Jerim Jya had been a messenger and an outside observer.
Then... the Dragon God went away.
Or rather... the Tyrant God was a better name for that guy.
Some things got worse. Most things got better.
But anyway... 'went away' doesn't mean 'dead.'
Neerin got the credit for deciphering the Prophecy... but in reality, all she did was talk about what was in the back of everyone's minds.
The Tyrant God would come back. There would be ash. There would be fire.
Not even dragons could live for very long in that kind of Realm.
...A girl needed to eat. She needed other dragons to talk to.
She needed to play board games and go to culture festivals and watch lesser beings fight wars over which religion was the most right.
...Jerim Jya cycled through the settings of her enchanted helmet.
ραпdα nᴏνɐ| сom Down below... the Sect Elder had died.
All his friends and family-- they'd died.
Even their sect's whelpling Ancestor... he fell to the Elf King's blades.
At least he put up a good fight. Just at a glance, she could tell that the Elf King had spent most of his mana.
There's only so much a god can do in a mortal body.
Men are flawed, after all-- mortal men, moreso.
The Elf King ventured deeper into Moon Crescent Isle... killing his way as he went.
Every motion, every murder, cost him a tiny fraction of his mind and spirit.
Nothing could stop him-- or so Jerim thought.
She was wrong... but in a good way.
Something came for the Elf King from the wrong side of the island.
They were hulking brutes, not quite as little as the others and maybe not as useless.
They towered over the Elf King, their eyes staring down with the lust for blood.
If they were to stretch out their arms, they would reach further than the Elf King's adamantine swords.
They wore... uniforms-- clothes and armor over their rocky skin.
Could such bestial creatures understand serving a cause greater than them? And what of the honor that civilized killers seek?
Rows of pointed teeth filled their hungry grins. Naught but snarls came from their stone lips.
Four Corallidae came to meet the Elf King... walking tall... unafraid... circling like a pack of hungry drakes.
A quiet man with pink coral skin, seaweed hair and a cold stare... calculating his odds.
A madman with sickly green skin, wearing a doctor's smock... hunched over and giggled.
A careful man, his skin pale as a ghost, watched impassionately.
The largest Corallidus, his skin flecked with copper and gold, rested a massive axe over his shoulder.
He smiled.
According to her magic helmet, his hate was the strongest.
Jerim Jya steepled her fingers, leaning forward as she burned the images into her memory.
Was it possible that the Corallidae could do what the entire Hidden Lake Sect could not?
She hoped so.
If not... then the Elf King was really a monster.
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