The sound of approaching footsteps made Sylvaria tense in anticipation. Strailoch wouldn't lose Kestra that easily. She thought. She snarled at the sight of two Morvaies approaching.
"What are you snarling at, dragon?" One of them asked. He dispelled the energy field surrounding the cell, the air crackling as the magic faded, before turning the key.
"They ordered us to move you underground. Apparently, Strailoch doesn't like the fact of you staying in this dungeon by yourself." The other said, waiting with a muzzle in his hand. "Your friend's parents will stay safe if you come with us quietly."
"What friend are you talking about?" Sylvaria growled.
The Morvaie finished unlocking Sylvaria's cell and stepped inside. "We mean your princess friend. Her parents are here as our guests." He replies.
Sylvaria, whimpering softly, cooperated as they slid the cold metal muzzle onto her snout and secured it with a tight strap. Knowing that she couldn't fit up the stairwell, the Morvaies opened a passage in the back. They pulled her into the dimly lit corridor, the heavy stone door closing with a loud thud behind her.
"Don't try anything, dragon. We will not hesitate to slit Keldo's or Celia's throat. Especially now that the Dark One has Melderan, and that beautiful daughter of theirs." One of them said.
Following the winding path of the Morvaies, Sylvaria carefully noted each turn in the dark, damp dungeon, the air thick with the smell of mildew and decay. She counted ten dimly lit corridors, their cold stone walls closing in, before their abrupt left and then sharp right turn. At the end of the hallway, she heard growling and someone talking.
One of the Morvaies went ahead while the other, and Sylvaria, waited. After a moment, a silent gesture beckoned Sylvaria forward, the air thick with anticipation. Reaching the end of the long, dimly lit corridor, she found Keldo and Celia in a cell alongside another, larger dragon.
"Keep moving, dragon." One of the Morvaies said, pulling Sylvaria into the cell with Keldo and Celia.
Holding the heavy muzzle, the Morvaie exited, the sound of the lock engaging a stark contrast to the quiet of the corridor. "Now, you have even more company, Keldo." He spoke insultingly.
"Where is my daughter? What have you done with her?" Keldo yells.
"The Dark One had taken her with him, to claim Kneontide and all of Melderan as his own. Surely you already knew that. Did you honestly think that we would bring your daughter here, of all places, to you?" The Morvaie replied calmly, its voice a low rumble that faded as it walked away.
Keldo's words died in his throat as he sensed another's presence drawing near, the air heavy with anticipation. He spied a large, muscular Morvaie, his jagged teeth glinting menacingly in the dim light.
"You again." He stopped, glaring at Sylvaria, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight. "Where is your precious princess?"
A low growl rumbled in Sylvaria's chest, a sound far more menacing than any words. "You know very well where she is."
"Do I now? I cannot recall. Why don't you help me out?" He replies, his eyes narrowed, daring her to challenge him back.
Keldo stepped forward, his eyes blazing with power, and sparks of vibrant, emerald magic crackled and writhed in his hand. He intended to gather as much information as he could.
"Where is she?" Keldo yells, his voice echoing through the cavern.
"Now, now, Your Majesty. Do nothing you will regret. Did you forget that your daughter's life is in our hands?" Unfazed, the Morvaie observed the sparks in Keldo's hand fade, leaving only the faint warmth of embers behind. "Your daughter is beautiful, Keldo. She and I had some great conversations." He chuckles as he continues.
"What are you talking about?" Keldo replies, his eyes blazing with fury as he glares at the Morvaie. "I know who you are, Yungite. You were the one who caught Drave. It was you who found out about his love for Kestra. You've deeply resented him ever since. But I will tell you this: you will never be with my daughter."
"Is that so?" Yungite replies calmly. "I don't exactly need to be with her, Keldo. Just to feel the heat of her passion, to taste her soft lips. Run my fingers over her smooth arms and through her raven hair. Smell her sweet aura…" Yungite broke off and growled, imagining Kestra there.
With a mighty roar, Sylvaria leaped, claws extended, towards the bars of her cage. No one dared to speak so poorly of her friend. Yungite remained unfazed, a smirk playing on his lips as she slammed into them, the impact echoing around the room.
"You really are dense. You couldn't help her before when you were next to her. Don't know why you're getting riled up when she's not even here. I would love to stay and chat with you, dragon, but I have to leave and join the army that is escorting your friend home." He laughs as he walked away.
After a few moments of painful, heavy silence, broken only by the distant drip of water, Keldo turned to Sylvaria.
"Sylvaria, I would like you to meet someone." With a gentle smile, Keldo approached her, his eyes twinkling.
As Keldo uttered the name 'Sylvaria,' Boaoen stepped into the wavering torchlight, hearing the crackle of the flames. Overwhelmed with emotion, tears welled in his eyes.
"Sylvaria, this is your father, Boaoen." Keldo acknowledged Boaoen as he stepped into the light.
"My…father." With a hushed tone, Sylvaria lets the news settle, her voice barely audible. Keldo always said that the war killed her father, a death marked by the stench of smoke and blood. She stared, unable to process that he was alive, his eyes wide with the same disbelieving joy that flooded her own.
"Sylvaria?" Boaoen's voice, a soft murmur, hung in the air; he wasn't sure if he'd asked a question or simply stated a thought. A lump formed in his throat, and he fought back the tears that threatened to spill.
"Yes, it's me. Dad." Sylvaria replies, her voice echoing softly through the cavern.
The rough texture of the cell bars didn't deter Boaoen as he placed his muzzle inside; Sylvaria's muzzle met his, a warm, comforting touch.
Keldo watched the dragons nuzzle each other before returning to sit beside Celia on the simple cots, feeling the rough fabric beneath him. "One horrible tragedy turned out to be a pleasant joy." With her head resting on Keldo's shoulder, Celia softly expressed her emotions.
"I agree. I hope Kestra is safe." Keldo replies, closing his eyes.
"I'm sure she is fine, Keldo. After all, she is your daughter." Celia quickly remarked.
A chuckle escaped Keldo's lips, a sound that surprised even him. How many times had Kestra felt the sting of a pulled muscle, the burning of exhaustion, and the dull ache of countless minor injuries, yet still persevered in her training while others recovered? How often did she find herself in sparring matches with members of the Guard, even when they held back to avoid hurting her? Finding humor in getting injured? She inherited her father's quiet strength and unwavering resolve. Even death couldn't deter Kestra; her determination was absolute, a force of nature that swept aside all obstacles.