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Visions

Written By: Skabaard

Cera knew exactly what sort of day it was going to be when she woke up with a splitting headache. It felt as though there was some hammer wielding gnome whacking at the inside of her skull every time her heart beat. She groaned and cracked a single golden eye, peering at the window spanning the far wall. The sun had only just begun to peek over the city walls, but that still meant that she'd overslept, something that likely hadn't done anything to forestall the pounding behind her eyes.

As she rubbed at her temples, she resolved--not for the first time and probably not for the last--to do a better job of resisting the allures of a fun-filled evening, especially one where dragons were involved. She had an image to maintain, after all. People, a lot of people, looked up to her for guidance, and she could only imagine what people would think of her lazing all the day away. Besides, she was certain that if she lay in her nest any longer her head would simply explode from the pressure that throbbed within it.

Her nest. That was really the only word for it. She hadn't slept in a real bed in half a century. None would do to hold the massive awkwardness of her frame. With a wordless grumble the gigantic, ophidian creature gradually pushed herself upright and sank dizzily down into her coils, which were still piled up beneath her. At it was, the immense girth of her serpentine lower half seemed endless, stretching outward from where her legs once attached to her waist. The sensation of the countless bands of muscles flexing as she dragged herself out of her tangled body had long since stopped being an alien one, and she yawned explosively, displaying the hundreds of thin, needlelike teeth that filled her snake-shaped snout.

First order of the day, take care of her headache. Opposite the sizable, cushion-lined depression that served as her resting place was the even more modified half of her bedroom, and she made her way around the simple screen that walled it off. On the way, she passed by a low table and casually grabbed a pair of flat-bottomed glass flasks, taking them with her. Tucked into the corner of the room was a drain sunk into a slight dip in the floor, with an otherwise unadorned spout high on the wall above it. Cera thumbed a conspicuous tile set into the silver-streaked marble of the wall and stuck her head under the resulting spray of cool, refreshing water.

She sighed and rested a forearm on the wall, leaning heavily into the stone as water sluiced off of her scales and ran down the front of her body. That alone seemed enough to take the edge off her migraine, and she took a moment to scrub at her face, doing what she thought was an admirable job in working a little vitality into her senses. It took no small amount of effort to keep herself from lounging there for longer than was strictly necessary, though the knowledge that her headache wasn't going to leave her alone by itself was certainly a help.

Leaving the water running, she shook the excess droplets off of her face and opened her maw wide. Almost by instinct, the massive, twin fangs that dominated her mouth unfolded from against her palate, and she carefully placed the vials beneath them until the tips of the daggerlike teeth rested in their necks. Only then did she let go. With a focused grimace and the tensing of subtle muscles, she filled each of the flasks with almost a cup of thin, pink-hued liquid. And just like that, the unwelcome pressure in her skull was gone. She worked her jaw around, squeezing the last few droplets from each of her fangs before sighing and tucking them back up where they belonged.

Her venom left her mouth tasting faintly sweet as she stoppered the flasks and set them on a tray with their brothers, a half-dozen others that were the product of the past week. The reminder that she produced so much of the vile substance twisted her mouth into a disdainful frown, and she turned away, rinsing her mouth of the unpleasant taste and doing her best to put it out of her mind. There were nicer things to occupy her thoughts. Now that she had emptied herself of the source of that unwholesome pressure in her head, she felt refreshed and content, and she yawned again as she wriggled herself more fully under the shower of water.

As seconds passed, Cera felt more and more revitalized, and she reached lazily over and selected a large, stiff-bristled brush from its tray. Cleaning the entirety of her ophidian body was a long and drawn-out process, and rather than spending the rest of her morning scrubbing at her tail, she simply luxuriated in the parts of herself that she could reach. Her sandy yellow-brown scales weren't particularly dirty, but she took her time anyway. She preened herself, working the brush along each of the ivory spines that gave her the distinctive, spiky crest that graced her skull as well as the horns that poked up above each of her eyes. She vigorously scrubbed her snakelike visage before working down onto her neck and her broad, heavy shoulders.

Cera rolled her arms in their sockets as she kneaded her stiff muscles. She could use a nice massage, and she smiled distantly at the look she knew she would get if she went to a professional. At her most comfortable height, she was more than twelve feet tall, and that didn't include the majority of her ophidian coils. Any masseuse she went to would have their work cut out for them, and that would only be if they could make a dent in her dense, prominent musculature. She was huge; she had a hulking, brutish physique. Her arms were enormous, the sinewy power lining them flexing eagerly even as she gently scrubbed herself. Her chest was thick and deep with slabs of strength, and her abdomen was carved into intimidating blocks of muscle that, as she breathed, tensed beneath the pale scales of her underbelly.

She scoured her armored hide, working the bristles of her brush along the contours of her impossible musculature, but her touch softened as she slid the brush up and over her chest. Her feminine assets were as exaggerated as the rest of her. Her breasts were prodigious things, weighty globes that were the larger than her head. They sat, hanging full and heavy from her chest, pulled into little more than perfect teardrops in spite of their heft. Their perfection unnerved her. They were just another constant reminder that nothing about her was natural. But... they were sensitive, pleasantly, delightfully so, and she let a gratified sigh escape her as she softly rubbed at her plentiful bust.

Her puffy, sable nipples perked up at the brush's attentions, glistening and wet from her shower as they stiffened eagerly. Cera could have ignored it, pushed aside the pleasant sensations. She could have finished the task of scrubbing herself clean, but she lingered, luxuriating in her body's eagerness to respond to the slightest stimulation. A slow breath hissed from her lungs as she forced open an eye and checked at the sun again. It was getting later in the morning, but she didn't have any specific duties to see to early in the day, and if someone needed her, everyone knew where her quarters were. Besides, it didn't make any sense to relieve some pressures but leave others to bother her throughout the day...

With a cautious hum, she set aside the brush for the time being and let a hand glide down her front, following the water as it ran between her breasts and along the grooves of her powerful figure. This was the best time and place for it anyway--the only place, really. She couldn't just casually let herself go like others so often did. While she massaged her palm lower and lower on her belly, her other hand lazily scooped up a huge, finely-scaled boob and squeezed it with languid passion. The simple act sent a quiver rolling down her spine. Halfway across the room, the tip of her tail flicked anxiously, and a familiar, pleasant heat spread through her. It sped her heart and made her breaths come more shallow.

As her fingers rolled over the peak of her ebony nipple, tweaking it between them, her other set stole below the line of her waist. Her humanoid body ended there, just at where the intersection of her legs once was. Her thick hips bled into the beginnings of her serpentine coils, and where her brick wall abdomen trailed away began the overlapping scutes that allowed her to drag her immensity across the ground. Right there, where her conjoined forms met and mingled together, lurked what she wanted. Hidden beneath her pallid hide there was a building, aching pressure. Blood and heat were pooling behind the nearly invisible slit that preserved what modesty she had, and she brushed her fingers over the sealed cleft in her scales, tantalizing herself.

With a little digital encouragement--and a limpid moan--she convinced enough of her body to relax. Delicate muscles flexed, and she felt herself open slightly, hesitantly. But that was all it took. That was all it ever took. Her heated body took advantage of the slight irregularity in its prison, and she sucked in a terse breath through clenched teeth as her wandering hand was abruptly shoved aside. A column of onyx flesh poured from her loins, pushing through her waiting grip like an ebony serpent in its own right. It was joined from below by its brother, a twin to match its titanic proportions, and as loathe as she was to do it, she pulled a hand from her chest to take it up as well.

Her head rolled back on her tense shoulders and a limp moan filtered up through her throat as her matching cocks bloated heavily, fattening in her hands as veins as thick as her fingers pulsed, feeding the twin behemoths the scalding blood they needed to lurch upward in ponderous bobbing motions. Her ardor was so easily stoked, and her impossible sexes gorged on it; more and more straining flesh escaped her loins until each of her towering shafts was longer and thicker than her already sizeable forearms. Below them, her enflamed femininity blossomed, emerging from her scales as if to take a breath of fresh air.

Sometimes... just sometimes... she wanted a couple extra hands. Even a single one of the pillars of masculinity that jutted from her crotch took both to fully see to, and there was so much of her that demanded attention. But she made do. Cera hung her head under the spray of water and cradled her swollen, sable obelisks to her chest. Her uppermost pillar of aching meat pushed apart her breasts, and its swollen crown brushed teasingly against her lips. An eye cracked open, and she stared down her enormous endowments as she wriggled forward. The underside of her lower tool pushed up against the wall below her shower's spout, and she pressed forward, trapping her rigid flesh between the stone and her iron-hard body.

Rocking her hips with slow undulations, she let herself fall into an intimate, familiar rhythm. She bore down on the wall, warming the silver-streaked marble with the heat of her need while lazily thrusting the rest between her oversized, pillowy breasts. She squished a hand into either side of her cushiony bust, compressing it around herself and using it to brace herself while she frotted her twin tools against one another, rubbing and squeezing and grinding. A subdued, "Mmph..." constricted her throat, and her mouth opened to draw in a shaky breath. Her ludicrous sexes grew ever tighter, bulging with a fresh wave of need with each beat of her heart. She could watch them pulse, feel them pounding against her. The relatively delicate scales that coated her heavy bust glided over her taut, obsidian hide, stimulating each veined inch as she pumped her hips to the tempo of her furious throbbing.

She didn't waste the opportunity of her open mouth. She lowered her head just a little bit more. Her uppermost crown pushed against her lips, hot and wet, and her long, forked tongue crept from its resting place to curl lovingly around the swollen flesh. She tasted her own viscous lubricants as they oozed from her titanic tool and mingled with the trickles of water that ran down her neck, shoulders and chest. They eased the passage of her absurd masculinities as she brazenly humped the wall and pushed one deeper into her snakelike maw. Her nature held true. She had no problem opening her mouth wide to accept its intruder, and she moaned again--more urgently--as she crammed her mouth full.

She gurgled as her body flexed under a wave of potent euphoria and she slammed the head of her trembling cock against the back of her throat. She threatened herself with strangulation, but she had nothing to fear. She was practically built to swallow objects of ludicrous proportions, and the only thing that stopped her from shoving her elephantine member down her gullet was the bend of her neck. Cera watched a gob of thick precum boil up from her neglected shaft, and she could taste its mirrored reaction as it splattered across her palate. With a groan, she pulled back enough to drag in a deeper breath and seal her thin, reptilian lips around her girth, and she used her maw as a wet, accepting hole as her hips continued with their building rhythm.

Lewd slurping accompanied the sound of falling water as her hands slipped from her chest and down her body. One found the base of her lowermost tool and wrapped around as much of it as possible. She couldn't get all of it against the wall, and she vigorously stroked what was left, feeling the thick cumvein bloat further in her grip, dilating in silent promise. Her other hand pushed lower, and she let loose a guttural mewl as her fingers dove between her engorged netherlips and pushed their way into her yearning, feminine passage.

Her eyes closed, and she pleasured herself with increasing vigor. Her powerful digits danced across the turgid bud of her clit, and thicker and heavier loads of ever more threatening precum leaked into her suckling mouth. It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't romantic. It didn't even make her feel sexy. Gods, but it felt good. Every undulation of her hips, each trip downward her mouth made, it sent skittering sparks shooting up and down her spine. She plumbed her depths to a finger's length, raking her claws over every sensitive fold she could make herself reach while mashing her palm against what was remained. It left what breaths she took shallow and ragged, it made her stony musculature flex dangerously beneath her scaly skin, tensing as control over her body weakened, and it pulled her lengthy form into a tight, continual "S" as bliss scrunched it up onto itself.

Cera could hear her scales rasping noisily as she shivered, nearing her limits. She didn't tease herself. She made no attempt to forestall the inevitable. Her feminine walls trembled around her probing digits. Her twin cocks surged dangerously, and her eyes shot open as she tasted the beginnings of her release on her tongue. As her quaking passage collapsed down onto her fingers, she pulled her head back, unsheathing her adamantine masculinity from her mouth with a long, soggy slurp. Keeping one hand busy with her flexing womanhood, she pulled other one up and slapped it down on her uppermost shaft. A delirious outcry froze in her throat as she pushed herself away from the wall enough to angle her spasming cocks forward.

And she did so just in time. Her entire body clenched, and she very nearly folded in on herself as she fired her first pair of thick, ropey geysers of cum from her spasming tools. Her release was violent enough to make her feel the force of it, and her pearlescent seed splattered messily against the stone her entire body rocked backward, flexing direly beneath her scales as she added another double dose of whitish seed to drool down the wall. After a gush of feminine slime coated her hand, she pulled her fingers from her rippling slit. She needed them elsewhere, and she wrapped them around her lower shaft just to give herself something into which she could violently thrust herself.

Time and time again, a vicious contraction cascaded through her and she added another quart of gluey cum to run in a slimy river down the beautiful marble of the wall. Cera tossed her head back and bit her lips, sinking down into her release and focusing on the powerful, pulsing sensation that poured through her body and mind. She felt her colossal tools bulging in her hands with each load, thickening to carry the sheer volume of her orgasm. It wasn't enough, however. It was never enough. It was just the beginning, and each breath-shaking pulsation grew in intensity as she savagely jerked her hands along her ludicrous lengths.

Cera choked back her lurid moans--perhaps out of a useless attempt to preserve her modesty--and milked herself with tireless vigor. She lost track of time, unable to guess how many minutes she devoted to emptying herself. When she managed it, squirting her last weakening strands onto the stone, she was breathless, and her breasts heaved under her heavy panting. Her skin ached, and her whole body felt like an exposed nerve for a lengthy moment. Her hands still moved, working out every last drop as her cocks began to droop and recede.

The sensation of the blood rushing back into her body was a reinvigorating one, and she let out a relieved sigh as she gently massaged her tender flesh, drawing out the last little bits of pleasure before she released her sagging dual sexes. One hand rose to her chest, and her lips quirked up in a small smile as she rolled her clawed digits over a stiff, black nipple. The other dropped to the folds of her feminine lips and sampled the generous trail of slime that had streamed down her scaly body to the drain below her. The remnants of her biting, physical need tingled through her, and she chewed on her tongue as she cleaned herself up a little and, with the tensing of powerful muscles, pulled her outrageous sexes back into their secretive home beneath her tough hide.

She watched the heads of her matching tools slip back into her body with a bizarre feeling of awed amusement, even after all the years she'd had them, and after her slit clenched closed she scrubbed clean the scales that surrounded it and looked to the mess she'd made. Gravity and the slick stone had already drawn most of her lustful output down the drain in the floor, and it was a simple task to wipe down the smooth marble until it was all just a pleasant, and still slightly tingly, memory. With that done, she quickly finished up her original task of cleaning the important bits of her body and, with one last check over everything and a deep, steadying breath, she cut the water's flow and turned to the rest of her day.

Shaking off beads of excess water, Cera grabbed a towel and finished patting herself dry as she doubled back on herself and slithered across her bedroom, all the while humming a song that she couldn't quite name. She snatched a simple bra and shirt from a chest-of-drawers by the screened archway that led to the rest of her quarters, and she tossed on the snug, dark garments as she pushed aside the drape and made her way through. Her bedroom's antechamber was a multipurpose space, serving as an office, with an oversized desk and several shelves laden with books and small objects, a meeting place, with chairs of various sized nestled around a table near the large, wooden door, and a makeshift armory. She gave it all a once-over as she buttoned her shirt up her front and tugged straight the well-sitting garment.

On a rack set against the wall opposite the room's long window rested her armor, part of it at least. The countless interlocking metal bands that could sleeve her entire serpentine length would simply have not fit in the room. They were stored below, in a proper housing. Instead of full battle kit, she would just fasten her back and chest plates over a long, mail hauberk that would provide her humanoid body with adequate protection. Before she could do that, however, she needed to don the dense, padded coat that went under it all, and she was in the middle of squeezing her thickly muscled arms into its sleeves when she heard a heavy knocking at her door.

"Enter!" she grumbled. Cera knew she'd taken too long. She should have just woken up, bottled her venom, and gone down to join the rest of the Lance. She was usually so good about it, maintaining a presence, seeing to assignments, helping make sure everything was organized and running smoothly. And here she was, dawdling away her morning as if she didn't have a host of important tasks to address. Valorie was going to have her on office duty for a month.

She was fastening more buttons when her heavy door glided silently inward, and she looked up, an apology already taking shape in her throat. However, it dwindled in her throat when her door unlatched and glided inward to permit the entrance of a bronze-scaled dragoness in the dark uniform of the Silver Lance. "Well look who's up and slithering around at such an ungodly hour! To think it's not even noon yet and you're already almost suited up! Good for you!"

Cera scowled with a heavy sigh. "Hey to you too, Emma. Did Val send you to try and drag me out of bed or something?"

"Nope." chirped the young dragon as she sauntered further into the room. "Slow morning?"

"Of a sort..." Cera admitted as she finished with her buttons. "I waited too long to milk myself, and combined with a late night--thanks to your mother, I'll add--I wasn't keen on doing too much moving when I normally would have."

Emma grinned, but gave her a dismissive shrug. "You don't have to explain yourself. We all have those days sometimes. I was just dropping by to see if you were interested in participating in a little extracurricular activity."

She grunted as she pulled on her polished argentum coat of fine, interlocking chains. "I'd like to, but I'm already late. I need to see to my duties."

With a bemused chuckle, the dragoness waved away her statement like it was a weak excuse. "No you don't. Valorie's already taken care of it. There might be a letter or two in your office, but the rest of it's all in order."

Her head jerked around to stare at the diminutive Lancer. "What?! No! I had to schedule a month's worth of training exercises, plus separate the recruits into teams for the upcoming contest! Not to mention that request from Baron Greyholme... and I had to-"

"I get it. I get it." Emma said dryly. "You're a busy snake. Just not today. Hells, she's even got a couple rookies cleaning your armor. Your real armor, that is."

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. "But why?"

"Beats me. Because it was dirty?"

Her frown deepened. "Emma."

The dragoness laughed and set the sizable parcel she'd carried in onto the naga's desk. "Because you never hesitate to cover for her when she takes a little time away? Because you're one of her best friends? Because you deserve a little down time every now and then and we all know you don't take enough time for yourself? I could go on. Pick a reason, but do it while you're eating breakfast. The kitchens said you hadn't been down yet this morning, so I grabbed an armful."

She coughed, trying to clear her throat around the knot of emotion that balled up next to her vocal chords. "Th-thanks, Emma. I appreciate it."

"Starting the day off with an empty stomach is no way to operate. It was the least I could do. Besides, it's just a few pies. It's not like I had to cart around a cauldron of soup or anything."

Cera_was_ a little hungry, and she surrendered as she pushed herself over to her desk and peeled open the cloth-wrapped bundle. The dragoness hadn't lied. It was just a stack of modest, golden brown pies. With a hum, she picked one up and bit into it. It was expectedly delicious, rich and meaty with chunks of carrots and potatoes. She marveled at the Lance's cooks' ability to take something both hearty and filling and wrap it in flaky bread, and she quickly devoured it before grabbing a second. "Alright..." she mumbled, "since it seems I've got the morning off, what did you have in mind?"

Emma folded her arms across her chest and leaned casually against a wall. "Well, my father suggested I start doing exercises to help me focus. He also suggested that you might like to join us in the courtyard for a while. It's a beautiful day either way."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Yeah. We talked about that a while ago. Of course I'll join in. Help me with these straps, will you?"

With a pleased, lighthearted laugh, the dragoness nodded and hopped up onto her serpentine body, reaching up to assist with the buckles as she lifted the massive, silvery plates and positioned them on her chest. After a few moments and a couple sharp, tugs, her broad, powerful torso was imprisoned in the polished argentum, and she rolled her shoulders and worked her great arms to make sure everything was in its place. As she slithered across the room, she pulled on her gauntlets and threw her rich, blue cape around her shoulders, fastening it there with a small, silver brooch. Before headed through the door, she made sure to grab the rest of her breakfast so she could eat it on the way, and though it took a few seconds, she finally managed to haul her entire ophidian body through the portal and shut it behind her.

Emma made herself at home on her back, straddling her serpentine girth and letting herself be carried along as Cera crawled down the endless hallway, swaying with rhythmic undulations of her spine. Her quarters were on the third floor of the immense, annular structure, and she passed a few of the broad, arched doors before she made her way to the nearest staircase and descended to the ground floor. Traffic here was thicker, with uniformed Lancers moving along the airy halls, sometimes at a stroll, more usually at an easy trot. It was a reminder that the day was hardly a lax one, and it brought a flush of embarrassed warmth to her cheeks as she greeted passers-by with casual salutes.

Putting it out of her mind, Cera traced a long, sinuous line through the curving corridor, past workrooms, classrooms, libraries, the showers. Her sable, forked tongue flicked eagerly between her lips as she passed by the kitchens and through the cloud of delicious aromas that poured from them. All the while Emma slipped into an increasingly relaxed posture on her back until the dragoness was entirely supine, arms and legs and wings splayed out to either side. She laughed, her deep voice rumbling with mirth. "Comfortable?"

The young dragon's violet eyes glinted playfully in the soft light that radiated throughout the Sanctum, and she gave Cera's scaled flank a fond pat. "I suppose... although I still think we should get some saddles made for you. Imagine how many people you could carry around."

A small smirk lifted the corners of her mouth. "Quite a few, I'd wager, but sorry. Only kids get free rides. Everyone else has to walk or pay."

"Is that so?" Emma mused, lifting a curious eyebrow. "How much do I owe you then?"

She dismissed the question with a wave and a broad, smug grin. "Nothing. I told you; kids ride free."

Emma sat upright, her face scrunched up into an unamused scowl. "Oh I see how it is. Just give me a few centuries, Cera. I'll show you a thing or two."

"Maybe, maybe. But don't worry. Until then I'll be here to carry you back to bed when your little legs get tired."

With a huff, the dragoness folded her arms across her chest and frowned viciously. "At least I have legs to get tired..."

At that, Cera stopped in her track and, with a quick arch of her spine, bent a portion of her flexible body and catapulted Emma from her perch and into the air. The dragoness gave a sharp, surprised yelp as she tumbled, and though she wheeled her arms she didn't manage to right her spin before she fell back to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs with a wheezy, grunted, "Oof!"

"And you have wings, yet you seem to hesitant to use them." she murmured while slithering over to where the dragon had fallen.

Emma made a show of pouting up at her while prying herself from the floor. "And that's why there's a difference between jumping and being thrown."

With a low chuckle, Cera offered her hand and pulled the dragoness up to her feet. "Really? You'll have to show me some time. I can't say I've ever been thrown before... Although I can't say I've done much jumping either."

In a show of petulant stubbornness, Emma climbed back onto her, but didn't stop at her former perch. The bronze-scaled dragon clambered up her back until she could sit herself squarely on Cera's shoulder, and she lifted her arm to give the young woman something other than her head against which to lean. "Give it time." muttered the dragoness as she draped the length of her tail over the back of the naga's neck.

Her smile broadened as she pushed open the broad door leading to the Sanctum's inner courtyard and carried them both through it, making Emma duck her head. "Yeah. It seems like time is all anyone ever needs."

"It certainly seems to solve a lot of problems." replied her scaly rider.

She nodded idly as she worked her way deeper into the open expanse of the hill. Sweet, warm air filled her lungs, and the sheer, invigorating energy in it straightened her spine and pulled a beatific sigh through her lips. Various facilities hugged the inner walls, drills squares and sparring fields and an elaborate obstacle course, but the closer one got to the apex of the hill on which the Sanctum sat, the less developed the land became. Hard packed and well-trodden earth became soft and grassy. Patches of bright flowers poked up through the layer of green, and she carefully avoided them to keep from flattening the colorful blossoms that perfumed the entire spacious expanse.

A dizzying variety of trees dotted the gentle curve of the hill, scattered in small clusters that provided shade for the men and women who were lounging beneath them, taking what were likely well-deserved breaks from the trials of a busy day. A small stream meandered down the smooth slope and collected in a series of shallow pools before disappearing through a grate in the walls. The burbling waters added their own music to the space, rising alongside the murmur of distant conversation or the clash of steel on steel from the training fields. And rising above it all, atop the crown of the hill and rising up to almost match the height of the immaculate, silver-streaked walls was a huge willow whose pendulous, leaf-studded branches hung low and blocked Cera's view of the other side of the yard with a screen of diaphanous green. The stream began at its roots, and beneath its canopy was a popular meeting spot and place of relaxation. The universe seemed a quiet, peaceful place under that viridian veil.

With a casual hand, she pushed apart the curtain of foliage and dragged herself and Emma beneath the boughs of the ancient-looking tree. The Archmage was already there, the elder dragon's shining, golden scales mostly hidden by his long, black coat. The rumbling bass of his voice could be heard as he spoke in soft tones to the pair of gray-robed equines that stood before him, but he lifted his head from them to regard the approaching naga with sharp, sapphire eyes and a warm smile. "Ah, and here she is. I'm glad you chose to grace us with your presence, Cera."

She helped the dragoness dismount with an arm, and then shrugged nonchalantly. "It is a nice day. It would have been a shame if I'd squandered it all in my bed. Besides... You four are bound for mischief if there's no one around to keep an eye on you."

A knowing grin showed the Archmage's daggerlike teeth. "Come now, I'd at least like to think I've managed to keep my apprentices out of any significant trouble. And what they do on their own time is certainly none of my business." He finished with a pointed look at Aurora, whose muzzle dipped in silent, bashful acknowledgement. Her brother harrumphed noisily.

With a chuckle, Daryn ushered the group over toward the base of the enormous willow, to the burbling font that was nestled amidst the twisting roots and that began the little stream. He gestured to the span of soft grass, and Cera crawled over, following Emma and the twins. "Many wizards I know prefer total silence while they're ordering their thoughts, and while I'd agree, I find that even the humblest slice of nature can lend a unique perspective from time to time. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Take a deep breath or two."

As if to demonstrate his simple instructions, the imposing dragon folded his legs and lowered his heavy, muscular bulk to the ground. He crossed them in front of himself and rested his palms on his knees as his wings shuffled idly and he watched everyone form a loose circle around him. Virgil and Aurora took up a place to the side and sat with their backs to one another, immediately closing their eyes and bowing their heads in wordless concentration. The next was Emma, who flopped casually down before her father and patted a patch of grass with her tail, looking expectantly up at the naga.

Not having legs, she couldn't really sit down in the same manner, but she approximated the action as best she could, coiling up a portion of her lengthy form next to the dragoness and sinking down into it, getting as close to the ground as she comfortably could while remaining upright. "Alright." she mumbled down at the sight of her awkward coils. "So what are we actually doing?"

The dragon grinned fondly at her. "Relaxing. Enjoying the day. Pondering the mysteries of the universe and our place within it, even for just a moment. A significant segment of the aspiring mage's early curriculum consists of mental exercises and meditation to prepare their minds for the rigors of channeling the forces of creation."

She huffed, sliding her fingers together and rubbing the finely articulated plates of her gauntlets against one another. "I'm not really sure I count as an aspiring mage."

With a chuckle, Daryn waved away her hesitation with a clawed hand. "Certainly not. But I've also found that a few moments of calm contemplation do wonders for my peace of mind. Taking the time to clear your thoughts of distracting impulses and emotions can be essential in appraising situations from clear, external perspectives, a useful skill for many, not only wizards. A cloudy mind is all too capable of leading one astray."

Cera nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I suppose. Is that some bit of eldritch wisdom that was hidden away in some ancient tome for millennia?"

"Hardly." retorted the elder dragon with a casual shrug. "It's just a tip from an old man whose unwillingness to see the truth has led him astray before."

Folding her arms across her armored chest, she cocked a dubious, scaled eyeridge. "I have trouble believing that."

"Good!" he laughed. "That means that I'm still able to at least act the part of the wise mentor. Now... the first step we have to focus on is--well--focus. If you both would relax a bit and close your eyes, we can begin."

She and Emma shared a brief look, but eventually Cera obediently shut her eyes, settling into her coils with a deep sigh. "Alright. Easy. What now?"

Daryn quieted her with a gentle, "Shh... Normally, an instructor would ask you to clear your thoughts, but that's much more difficult that it seems at first. Instead, I want you to just relax for a minute. Breathe deeply, slowly. Let your hands rest where they will. In... and out. Good. Just like that. Keep going. With your nose, Emma."

Cera heard the young dragoness's indignant huff, and couldn't resist smiling. Breathing. Breathing was crucial. She'd been fighting long enough to know the importance of good breath control. Inhale with caution, and exhale with conviction. Simple. She let each breath flare her nostrils and fill her lungs before she let it pass through her. The deep, bass rumble of Daryn's voice continued to coach her. "Good. Now. I'd like you to picture something for me. I need you to fill your mind with a vast, empty space. It's simple to envision a color. Go ahead and pick one, then submerge yourself within it. Let it surround you."

She chose blue, a deep, rich, sapphire hue that she found easy to fix in her mind's eye. It was cool and inviting, comforting and familiar all at once. It was as if she were swimming in a cerulean ocean. The Archmage went on softly. "Once you've managed that, I'd like you to take it a step further. Picture for me something deeper, something at the center of everything. Make it what you will, but keep it simple. There's no need to strain your imagination."

Something simple... something that stood out from the sea of blue. Something red. It was easy to picture a little bead of something different against such an intense background. Just a spot of different color drifting in the middle of it all, something close to her. The red was fuzzy-edged, as if it was glowing faintly, and she kept it close to her mind's eye, focusing on it as she drifted in the sapphire void. "Let that be your center." the dragon murmured distantly. "Connect it to yourself. Let it mirror you. Let it breathe with you."

Okay, he was starting to lose her. Breathe with her? She contemplated the little mote of red she had fashioned for herself. Breathe with her. Okay. She took a breath, filling her chest with sweet, fresh air, and as she did, the speck of color expanded with her lungs. She held it for a few heartbeats, and then released it, watching the crimson will-o-wisp contract back onto itself. Success. She smiled. "Now, focus." continued Daryn in an even, soothing drone, soft and steady. "Focus on it, on yourself. Focus."

She did. Cera poured herself into the tiny node of vermilion. She breathed, and it matched her motions. For a while, it was content there, but she was a more complex creature than that, and the diminutive, scarlet pearl evolved with her understanding. Her great heart beat, and it pulsed with soft, internal light, counting out the rhythm of her vital force. The deeper she peered into it, the more intricate it became. The skin beneath her scales prickled as she... watched herself live. She could feel the small orb of glimmering color matching her, throbbing in time with her pulse and dancing in acknowledgement of her sensation.

After a brief span, a sense of bizarre vertigo overtook her. She almost felt as though she were truly floating in that same, sapphire expanse. In fact, her sense of touch felt dulled, making it difficult to tell where her body ended and the empty, luminous void might have begun. There was just the mote, the mirror of her body and mind, the center of all that she was. She wanted to just reach out and take hold of it, but it would have been a pointless gesture. It already rested at her core. The floating, lazily falling sensation compounded on itself. She felt weightless, and she fixated on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out. That was all that was important. All else was tranquil, swallowed by a vast gulf of silence.

And then she felt something beneath it all. Some undercurrent of inexplicable... something. It felt fluid, but potent. It shifted and swayed with her languid breaths, throbbed with her heartbeat, and shied away from her introspection like water bleeding through gravel. It was something innately of herself, but something... alien and unfamiliar. She didn't know what to make of it, but she dared not go digging too intently for it, lest she do something to break her-

"Cera?"

Something touched her, and reality snapped back into place. A spiderweb of cracks spread through what she had made, and reality crumbled around her in a splash of dizzying colors. Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked rapidly while Daryn's gold-scaled face filtered into view. "Wh-wha...?" she slurred, swallowing dryly past the knot pressed against her larynx. "Did I miss something? What's wrong?"

The dragon chuckled and helped steady her wobbling with a hand over her shoulder. "Nothing, nothing. I just didn't want to take up too much of your day. Just take a breath and find your bearings again. You're a natural."

"M-my day? What...?"

A small hand pressed against her hip, pulling her eyes downward. "Yeah. We've been at this for almost an hour." Emma offered. "Are you okay?"

"An hour?!" blurted the naga, jerking her eyes up at the sky, squinting through the diaphanous green veil of the willow's canopy. It was true. The sun had shifted noticeably through the firmament, having slid past midday. With a disbelieving gasp, she lurched backward, retreating self-consciously into her coils. Had she fallen asleep? Had it all just been some bizarre dream?

An embarrassed apology rushed to the tip of her forked tongue, but Daryn quieted her with a placating gesture. "Relax, Cera. You did fantastically for being so out of practice."

Her gaze shifted from one dragon to the other, and she thanked the gods that her blush was hidden by the scales over her cheeks. "Out of practice?" An hour?! She'd been lounging there for an hour?! It had barely felt like a few minutes!

The Archmage shrugged casually. "I thought that you might have some experience with similar meditative exercises, given your training, but I didn't want to presume too much."

Nervously scratching at the base of one of her crest's trailing spines, she shifted forward once more. "Yeah, I guess. Breathing's easy, but I didn't expect it to be so... intense. It was like I was detached from my body for a minute. I'm sorry if I missed part of the lesson. I think I drifted off for a bit."

Daryn laughed again. "Not at all. You just had more important things to pay attention to. You both did wonderfully."

Her eyes wanted to dip to the ground to avoid the sincere pride shining in his, but she managed to stay focused. Emma just beamed up at her father. "As tired as you must get hearing this, I think you were right." admitted the dragoness, lifting arms over her head in a languid stretch. "I feel so much more... alert. It's like waking up from a nap but better. I really do feel more clear-headed."

Cera slowly nodded her agreement. It had been jarring, being yanked from her own head, but once the prickly tingling sensation had left the back of her neck alone, she did feel more relaxed, looser, both inside and out, like she'd put her own body and mind through a host of vigorous stretches. Her tongue flicked idly, tasting at the sweetness in the air as she mirrored Emma's pose, lifting her arms high, working her heavy shoulders around and rattling her armor as she shook off the rest of her mental haze. "She's right. I feel... weirdly refreshed. We should do this more often."

Straightening to his full, impressive height, Daryn pulled his open-chested coat straight on his torso with a few idle swishes of his thickly muscled tail. "Well, you hardly need me around to sit and breathe for a few minutes, but I think setting aside a little time now and then would be a wonderful idea. Now I just need to convince Valorie to do the same."

She scoffed. "Yeah, I don't know about that. She's definitely someone who already knows how she prefers to spend her leisure hours."

"And make a terrific mess at the same time." Emma added.

She acknowledged the dragoness's addendum with a nod and a smirk. "I don't think she was ever the type to sit around when she could be doing something more proactive."

Daryn surrendered with a shrug. "That much I can vouch for. Things were always that much more exciting with her around. That's never changed."

Her lopsided smile broke into a grin, and she casually adjusted her body, shifting her coils around behind her. "So, what now?"

The dragon dipped his head with a shuffle of his crimson wings. "Well, the twins have already finished their exercises, and they have the rest of the day to their personal projects. Emma, I believe, is due to instruct a group of recruits in the finer points of hand-to-hand combat."

Emma's faceted, amethyst eyes peered up at the sun's position. "Yeah, I guess Calian's coddled them enough. I better go put the fear of the gods in them."

The dragoness turned and jogged down the hill with a wave. "Try not to break any bones this time!" Daryn called to her. She just laughed and leaped into the air, letting her ebony-skinned wings carry her down the hill at a glide, off toward the sprawling training grounds.

The Archmage then turned to her. "You on the other hand, seem to have the rest of the day to yourself, although I'd like to make a suggestion, if I might."

Cera ran an armored finger down the row of long, curving spikes that crested her skull, idly preening her ivory mohawk. "Of course. It's not like I've got any other plans."

"Thank you." he said softly, beckoning down the hill with an open hand. "Would you care to walk with me?"

She blinked in surprise. "I... sure. As long as you don't mind that I crawl."

He chuckled warmly and started walking with slow, deliberate steps of his taloned feet. She slithered after him, taking a place at his side with her tail stretching out behind her, undulating with equal slowness. "How is everything, Cera?"

Caught off guard by the frankness of the query, she inclined her head, shooting a questioning glance up at him. "What do you mean? I'm fine."

"Of course you are." he surrendered with a humble dip of his head. "But I remember distinctly the concerns you brought to me. I may not have had some grand revelation since then, but I still care about your well-being. Is everything alright with you?"

She voiced a sluggish, "Oh." of understanding and knotted her fingers together over her stomach. "Yes. Of course everything's alright. Talking to you helped put a lot of things in perspective, I guess. And now that I've had a chance to stew on it a little, I guess I'm not as worried as I used to be. What happens will happen right? It doesn't make much sense to let it gnaw at me."

He nodded and shot her a soft, sincere smile. "That sounds like a healthy stance to take."

A bashful flush coursed into her cheeks and weighed down her head. She stared for a minute at the grass as it steadily disappeared, flattening beneath her. "Daryn?"

"Yes?"

She paused for a moment to articulate her thoughts. "I was so relaxed. I just focused on breathing. I could barely feel the rest of my body, but I could feel my breathing. I could feel my heartbeat. I swear I could almost feel the blood in my veins. But just before you woke me up, I thought I could feel something else... Something deeper than all that."

Daryn slowed, turning his head to contemplate her with a thoughtful frown pulling at the corners of his long mouth. "Oh? Tell me. What did it feel like?"

She grasped blindly at the air, groping for words. "I... don't know. I could barely feel it, almost like it wasn't really there, but then it would get stronger, and it would feel like something flowing? Like I was sitting in a stream, but inside me. And every time I thought I felt it, it would go away. But when I ignored it, it would come back. Was it... was I dreaming?"

Tilting his head as if he was trying to view a puzzle from a new angle, the dragon stopped and looked at her. "Fascinating. It takes even talented mages a great deal of practice to get to where you have."

"Wh-what? What is it?"

He placated her with a gentle touch that she could feel through her silvery pauldron. "Relax, Cera. It was just a little magic."

With a shake of her head, she rejected the simple statement. "But it was different. I can feel when spells are being cast as well as anyone else, but they feel like they're squeezing the air against me. This felt like the opposite."

"I didn't say it was a spell." continued the dragon with a tone that seemed on the verge of laughter. "What you probably felt was unshaped magic, the flow of raw mana through the aether."

She recognized the term, even if it didn't hold much meaning to her. "But I thought... Don't you have to... What does that mean?"

Daryn held out a hand, indicating the hillside around them, from the lush grasses to the humble stream. "Magic is an energy, just like a bolt of lightning that strikes the steeple of a cathedral or the fire released from burning wood. It flows from place to place in the same way, from the clouds to the ground, or from the wood to the air. It does so in the greatest concentrations along ley lines, moving like vast, underground rivers. This place is a nexus, where several lines meet, one of the largest and most complex in Arvandor, with the exception of the nexus within the Academy. While the spells woven into the Sanctum might be more obvious, there is more passive energy than can be imagined passing through this hill. It gave me headaches when I first moved to Southcliff. It's probably torturous for Ranna."

"But that doesn't explain why I could feel it. I'm no wizard." Cera reminded him.

"Certainly not." added the Archmage. "But that doesn't mean that you can't be remarkably sensitive. It's like... Ah, over here."

Stepping more lightly than his bulk made seem possible, Daryn led her aside, bringing her over to the little creek that ran down the hillside. It was a modest thing, no more than six feet across at its widest, and only a few inches deep on average, but the elder dragon gestured excitedly at it, specifically toward one of the several shallow, artificial basins that the water collected briefly in before continuing its meandering path toward the inner walls. "It's like this. The flow of magic is like water in a river, but it touches everything, connects everything. For most people, this doesn't affect them at all. Magic simply passes through them, only barely interacting with their aura. Some people, however, act more like these basins. When magic flows through them, it collects, their internal wells fill up. Some wells are deeper than others, allowing the person to channel more magic at once before having to rest, but the concept stands. Those people are sorcerers, people like Dawn, the twins, Ranna, and Tobias."

"And you." she added.

He nodded. "Yes."

The burbling water drew her pensive frown. "Okay, but that still doesn't-"

"We're getting there." he interjected. "I just wanted to give you a little context first. Technically, with enough practice, anyone with an aura can learn to sense how it interacts with magical fields, be they bound up into a spell or not. It could be that you were predisposed to that sense, but a tiny handful of people, even rarer than those born as sorcerers, are born with the same deep internal well, but rather than trapping magic, it passes through them as it does with everyone else. Their wells are more like magical sieves, leaving them hypersensitive. You could be one of these people, and it might even explain your longevity. Sensitives are known to live longer than those without their abilities."

"So I could be normal, just oversensitive?"

He laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far. I don't think any of us could call ourselves normal, nor am I certain that I'd want to. But it is possible that you are a sensitive. I hadn't considered it because they're incredibly, incredibly rare. I've been around for almost three centuries, and I've only met three true sensitives. You would be the fourth. Mmh... Do you experience a lot of headaches?"

Her armor clinked musically as she shifted. "I suppose, but it's usually just my head reminding me to drain myself, and it goes away after I do."

Daryn hummed, scratching at the short spines that lined his jaw in a draconic approximation of a beard, but she spoke up when he didn't immediately explain. "Is there a way to tell for sure?"

"Yes, of course." he answered, dropping his hand and taking a deep breath that pushed wisps of thin, grey smoke from his nostrils. "But it involves pushing a whole lot of energy through the subject just to see how it diffuses, and it's hardly pleasant. Unless... Ranna's nearly a sensitive herself. Maybe with her help, we could get away with using less. I could try and arrange it, though with how Ranna works herself, it might take some convincing for her to set aside few hours of her time."

Cera shook her head with a dismissive wave of her gauntlet. "No, no. She gets hassled enough as it is. Maybe some day, but like I said, it's not really bothering me as much as it used to. I've spent more than my fair share of time worrying about the future and how I'm supposed to work into it. I'd rather just live the life I've got, right? Especially since everyone's gone to so much trouble to make me feel like a part of the family."

Thick tail swaying through the air behind him, the dragon idly adjusted his coat on his heavy shoulders. "It wasn't as much trouble as you try to make it seem, Cera. And a few decades have a way of seeing things worked out. But still, I'm glad you decided to stay with us after you worked all those years to adjust. You're a good friend, and even though it was hardly under the most pleasant of circumstances at the time, I'm very glad our paths crossed. A sentiment I'm sure I share with everyone here."

For a long moment, only the sounds of the wind in the scattered trees, the gurgling of the stream, and the distant clash of steel from the training fields touched on the silence, but she eventually smiled. "Thanks, Daryn, but it's the least I could do. And it's not like I could leave. I owe you and Val and the rest too much. Plus it's not like there are many places for me anywhere else."

"If that's what you believe..." the Archmage added. "I'm certainly not going to drive you off. Clara would have my hide, and then yours, and probably Valorie's for good measure."

Her shoulders bounced, rattling her armor as she laughed. She could all too easily envision the dragoness's ire. A breeze rolled over the hill, echoing her mirth, and it carried with it a small, winged creature draped in iridescent red scales that landed on Daryn's shoulder. The wizard turned a bemused eye to his familiar, intent on an unheard conversation, and quickly nodded. "Of course I felt them." he answered his silent companion. "But they haven't even reached the top of the hill yet. There's plenty of time."

Cera felt the faint tickle against her consciousness that was the small, housecat-sized reptile's mind touching hers. A smooth, feminine voice rang in her thoughts, clear and confident and touched with a hint of exasperated impatience. "You will not believe so when they arrive without you to greet them, Master. They are no dignitaries or messengers."

"I know who they are, Limata, and we'll be there to welcome them into our home. I was only spending a little downtime."

The tiny dragonet shuffled her delicate wings and sniffed indignantly. "You will not be so timely if you continue to make excuses, Master."

Throwing his long, horned head back, Daryn groaned. "Fine." he grumbled, beckoning for Cera to follow him. "Come on then. We've got guests to greet."

The dragon started down the hill at a more regular pace, taking long, purposeful strides, and she hurried to wind her lengthy body after him. "Must be special guests to get the personal treatment..." Cera mused. "Who is it this time? The Duke? The King?"

Though he didn't quite need to, Daryn dipped his head through one of the great doorways leading into the vast structure, taking the chance to peer back at her with a lopsided grin. "You'll find out soon enough."

She huffed and flicked her tongue at him like a sable lash. "And to think you were doing so well. But you wizards just can't help but avoid answering questions, can you?"

His wry chortle didn't at all match his chastised tone. "I just don't want to spoil the surprise. Where would be the fun in that?"

"I don't know..." she retorted, "How about the satisfaction of fulfilling a friend's curiosity?"

He hesitated a step, scratching at his chin again. "Hmm... No, I think I'll take my chances with a surprise this time. Perhaps later I can find some juicy cosmic secret to unravel for you."

Cera scowled at his back. "It had better be a good one."

"Only the best." the Archmage assured her. "Until then, I believe there is someone here who'd like to say hello."

The endless hallway that ran the circumference of the immense, annular structure flowed into the Sanctum's grand foyer. The huge hall began at the pair of massive, argentum-clad doors, which at this hour stood wide open, allowing a continuous flow of fresh air to waft in from the city. Twin spiral staircases wound upwards to either side, granting access to the citadel's upper floors, and lining the broad walkway that led deeper into the airy room were clusters of chairs and tables, inviting guests to take a load off and rest at the end of whatever journey had brought them there. To and fro, people, some clad in the flashy capes and armor of the Silver Lance, scurried. Some had to take detours around Cera's serpentine body, and one or two simply vaulted her in their hurry to be about their business.

All was as it usually was, a continual bustle, which made the small group casually strolling in through the arched gate stand out even more loudly. A half-dozen women, most wearing simple, loose robes, were gawking at their grandiose surroundings and whispering reverently to one another. Cera instantly recognized their regalia and the face of the woman leading the pack, and a bramble of emotions knotted up in her gut. Though decades had carved weary lines into her soft features and turned her once-brown hair a fine, whitish grey, Rhona still carried the self-assured confidence of the Matron of the Sisterhood of Amara, and it was clear that the silver-inlaid staff she carried was no crutch.

Daryn beamed as he met them halfway, arms open and wings and tail twitching excitedly. It almost appeared as if he was going to simply scoop up the whole group in his powerful arms, but he stopped a step shy and dipped into a deep bow instead. "Matron." he rumbled respectfully. "It's been some time. How can the Ordo Arcanum be of service?"

The elderly priestess returned his bow with a brief one of her own, and the women behind her practically prostrated themselves before the dragon at her show of respect, momentary as it was. When she straightened, it was with a warm smile. "Forgetting about formalities would be a good start, Archmage. I get my fill of those in my own sanctum."

Rather than standing upright, Daryn took a knee and extended an arm with a wry chuckle. "I was never fond of them anyway. Bothersome things, always getting in the way."

The priestess took his hand, and he used it to guide her against his chest and into a gentle hug. In spite of her stately presence, she could do little but look tiny and frail next to the hulking dragon, especially as she threw her arms around his waist and squeezed him with all she had. "It has been a while, hasn't it? Time is just racing onward."

"As it always does." murmured the draconic wizard as he let her slide back a step. "But don't worry. You haven't missed much. What can I do for you today, Rhona?"

"Me?" she laughed. "Oh, I don't think I could ask for anything more than a place to sit. Perhaps a cup of tea? The walk up this hill hasn't gotten any shorter. But I would consider it a personal favor if you would do what you can to help one of Amara's children here. She's found herself on quite the arduous road."

"Oh?" the dragon wondered, lifting a curious eyeridge. "Then she has but to name it, and I will devote myself to her aid. Might she be in attendance...?"

"Yes, Archmage." came the reply to his lingering question. The woman to Rhona's right straightened and stepped forward with only a tiny sliver of hesitation. Cera took notice. She, too, wore the simple robes and ornamental vestments of the goddess's clergy, but she also wore a heavy mantle and a deep cowl that shadowed most of her features, all of pristine, white cloth. The most peculiar aspect of her garb, however, was the gossamer veil she wore draped over the hood's opening, which obscured the rest of her face. The naga was only able to catch flashes of blue scales, which matched those on her exposed hands and the thick, reptilian tail that hung low behind her. Though her back was straight and proud, she kept her face angled toward the ground in deference.

Rhona continued as Daryn took in the unusual sight. "This is Sister Xandria, Archmage. If it's possible, she would like your assistance."

"What luck," murmured the dragon, pondering the veiled priestess, "I happen to be full of assistance today. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sister. My name is Daryn, and if I might ask, how can I help you?"

The Sister bowed as she was acknowledged and spoke quickly. "Thank you Archmage. My travels have brought me here today in the hopes that you would help me find someone. I'm searching for a woman by the name of Ophelia Crow."

Cera froze. For a second, it seemed like her heart had stopped. She pressed her lips together in an effort to keep the shocked turmoil from her face, and even Daryn's tail twitched in surprise as he hummed, perplexed. "Hmm... Ophelia Crow... Well, I'll do everything I can to help you, but I'm curious. Why go to the trouble of traveling here, to me?"

Bowing again, the priestess answered smoothly. "I know that she and this place are connected somehow. It came to me in a..."

"A dream? A vision?" the dragon filled in her hesitant pause with a pensive frown.

"Yes, Archmage. I saw a magnificent, white citadel, a spired crown amidst a city of life, and I heard her name. I knew that I needed to reach her. I don't know if she is here, or if this is just where I find my next destination, but I know that this is where I needed to go."

"Curious..." Daryn murmured. "What of the woman? Why are you seeking her out? Is she in some sort of trouble?"

"That I... I can't say. All I know is that I must find her. I'm praying that my path becomes clearer when I do."

Running an obsidian claw along the spines that lined his jaw, the Archmage stood to tower over the congregated women, his voice thrumming thoughtfully in his chest. "Odd, but I can say you've certainly come to the right place for oddities. You've got the run of the Sanctum for as long as you need it. Perhaps this woman will turn up in time. Until then, I would be happy to show you all to somewhere you can get off your tired feet for a while.

The priestess bowed again as Rhona grinned and accepted his offer. The dragon then turned and beckoned with hand before strolling away down the hall. On his way past, he shot Cera a low, meaningful look and she answered it with a tiny nod. It felt like a boulder had sunk into her stomach, and it sat there, solid and heavy as she laced her gauntleted fingers together over her abdomen. It was hardly fear, but the weight of it was tinged heavily by shock and uncertainty. She hadn't called herself Ophelia in more than fifty years. She eyed the veiled woman with a deep frown and lashed the air with her forked tongue before twisting herself around and following the group along the hall.

The Archmage showed his guests to a library on the eastern side of the Sanctum. The walls were lined with shelves that reached to the lofty ceilings, and rows of them filled much of the space. Scattered around, however, were small alcoves littered with plush chairs and low tables, and a wall-filling window along the concave perimeter filled the room with soft, natural light. There were only a couple people already there, and none of them bothered to look up from the scrolls and heavy, leather-bound tomes in which they were engrossed. The priestly party spread out as Daryn ushered them through the broad, arched doors and urged them to make themselves at home. Most of the women just gawked up at the heavily-laden shelves as they found scattered seats, but the one hidden behind her veil seemed unimpressed. Daryn approached her again. "Sister, before I send for refreshments, perhaps you'd like to peruse the archive. If the woman you're looking for was here, it will be in our records."

As seemed to be her habit, she bowed. "I would appreciate that, Archmage."

"Excellent." he replied. "Come, I'll show you to them."

She bowed again and strode purposefully behind the draconian wizard as he led her away. Cera stared at the priestess's back as she finished hauling the rest of her snakelike form through the door. She could barely fit the breadth of her frame between the rows of shelves, but there was a sufficiently wide avenue down the center of the room that led to an open area beneath the impressive window. The Matron was sitting facing it, gazing wistfully at the sprawling city below as the naga slithered up to her side. "It's good to see you again, Cera." she murmured softly.

The serpentine behemoth sighed and sank into her coils. "Likewise. Who is she?"

Rhona reclined in her chair. "Xandria? She's a servant of the gods, just like the rest of us."

She folded her arms across her breastplate. "For some reason I doubt that. Why didn't you tell her?"

"Tell her what?" the high priestess shot back. "Even if there were anything for me to tell, it wouldn't be any of my business. She's on her own journey."

"Aren't we all?" Cera retorted, slashing the air with her tongue before she bit back some of her directionless ire. "But... thank you. It's not like it's supposed to be some great secret. You didn't have to keep it."

The matron chuckled and shot a sideways glance up at her. "That still doesn't make it my place to speak on it. Besides, sometimes it's wiser to help our children come to their own conclusions, rather than simply giving them the answer."

"I guess it is." she admitted, returning the laugh with a smile. "I missed you, Rhona. It's been too long."

Another giggle. "You're telling me. Where did all the years go? It seems like just yesterday we were both acolytes. But so much has happened between then and now. We've all changed so much."

"Not as much as it seems." Cera assured her. "How is everything?"

"Well. But I'm getting tired. I don't know how many years of this I have left in me. Time hasn't been as gentle with me as it has with you."

She reached down and gave Rhona's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry."

The Matron's lips curled upward in a little smile. "Please, don't be. I wasn't saying that life hasn't been fair, and I hope you don't take offence from me saying that I don't envy you. I don't pity you either. We're all just on our own paths, and can you imagine how boring our lives would be if each was the same? No, I can look back on my trail and say I'm happy with where I've ended up. It's just about time for me to rest."

"You miss her."

Rhona reached up and laid her hand over the set of massive, clawed fingers draped over her shoulder, but she took a moment to continue. "Yes. Nissa always was a leader, though. And I was always a follower. I'll follow her home in time. I just need to take care of a few things first."

Peering down, she met the Matron's gaze. Behind all that steady confidence she saw fatigue, a whole ocean of it. It made her tired just to look at it. "Well, if you're determined to catch up to her before I do, will you give her a message for me?"

"Of course."

"Will you tell her that I miss her too?" Cera requested. "And will you remind her that I never blamed her for anything? I don't think she ever believed me."

"Guilt has a way of doing that. She spent so long blaming herself that she couldn't believe that anyone wouldn't. No matter how _persistent_they were. She wore that stain on her conscience for such a long time, but I think she got rid of it before she had to leave."

"I hope so."

They sat in silence for another long moment, watching the sun slide lower into the sky, but eventually, Rhona spoke up. "Do you think Daryn's going to tell her?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. He's probably just keeping her busy to give me time to decide what to do. You two are too much alike."

The elderly priestess smirked, but didn't argue the point. "And have you decided?"

Taking a deep breath, she pushed a long, airy sigh from her lungs. "Yeah... I better go rescue her before he bores her to death."

She gave Rhona's hand one last squeeze and turned to go, only hesitating when her old friend spoke up. "Amara watch over you, daughter, and try to be patient with her. She's almost as headstrong as you used to be."

She scoffed and shot her retort over her shoulder as she crawled away. "Used to be? Come on, Rhona, I haven't changed _that_much."

The priestess's mirthful laughter followed her as she squeezed herself through the door and into the gently curving hallway. The archives were on the other end of the building, so she had plenty of time to ponder her course of action. Her mind bristled with questions: how, why? What she supposed to say? Nothing about the situation made sense, and she hesitated when Daryn and the Sister walked around the corner. The Archmage was apologizing, probably because there was no one in the records under the name Ophelia Crow. But she swallowed her uncertainties and waved them down anyway.

When she reached them, she nodded at the dragon and poked a thumb behind her. "Archmage, don't you think the Matron's been without her tea for too long already? For a host with such a legendary reputation, you're sure doing a poor job of caring for your guests."

She had to stifle a giggle at how taken aback Daryn looked, and he blinked dumbly at her for a second before her meaning struck him. "Oh, of course! I've been terribly rude! Sister, please excuse me. There is some business to which I need to attend. But, as I said, you're welcome to any services that I can provide. Please come see me if there's anything I can do for you."

"Thank you, Archmage." the reptilian cleric murmured behind her veil. "You've been very generous." Shockingly, her gratitude wasn't accompanied by a respectful bow this time.

With a nod at each of them, Daryn practically scurried away, leaving them alone in the middle of the spacious hallway, apart from the occasional passers-by. The Sister turned toward her, but remained silent, and she shifted, trying to hide her unease. "Sister Xandria, right?"

Xandria's head bobbed under her pristine cowl. "Correct. Are you one of the Silver Lance? I've heard much about your order and the work you do."

Cera wriggled her way to the wall to keep herself out of the path, and the Sister followed. "Only good things, I hope."

She couldn't see the priestess's face, but she could hear her smile. "Mostly, yes. I suspect the complaints I've heard have come from those that don't fully understand the work of rooting out that demon's foul corruption. I do."

The certainty in that statement distracted the naga from the disconcerting way Xandria stared at her belly. She knew she loomed, towering over the woman, but most people weren't so steadfast in their refusal to look up and meet her golden-eyed gaze. "Oh?"

"Of course." the Sister answered, fidgeting with the fringe of her pale mantle in clawed fingers. "You don't do your work alone. One of Matron Rhona's first official acts was to establish my order, the Custodians. It's our duty to safeguard the Sisterhood from the threat of that vile creature's taint, to ensure that the world doesn't fall victim to it again."

Cera hummed appreciatively. "I've heard of your group before, but I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of meeting one of you. I take it that's why your vestments are different?"

Xandria replied with a nod and another gesture at her mantle. "Even so. A reminder of the responsibility we all bear. Though it's a boon in cold weather as well."

"I'd imagine. Sometimes I wish our capes were a little longer, especially in the winter winds. What about your veil? Something about subtlety?"

The question seemed to fluster the priestess's former calm, and her scaly, azure tail twitched, briefly lashing at the air. "I... No. My Sisters would prefer to be unveiled in order to remain vigilant. I wear a veil because my appearance tends to make people uncomfortable."

She winced. That explained the cleric's hesitation to look up. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Waving away her apology, Xandria shook her head. "It wouldn't be fair of me to blame people for their curiosity. I came to terms with my condition long ago, and it hasn't yet interfered with my duties."

With a frown, Cera accepted that answer, but folded her arms across her breastplate. "Then if I could be curious a little bit more... This woman you're looking for, what does she have to do with your duties as a Custodian?"

Content to be off the topic of her "condition", Xandria perked back up, though there was no small amount of uncertainty wavering in her voice. "I don't know if she does. Matron Rhona has reassigned me to Southcliff so that I might discover the meaning behind my vision. I only pray that it truly is a message from the gods and not some creeping madness. All I know of Ophelia Crow is that she was once a member of the Sisterhood some decades ago, before the Incursion, but she vanished afterwards. The Archmage's records shed no light on the puzzle, but this is certainly where I was meant to go. There can be no other place like this... But you must forgive me. I'm tired from the journey here, and I don't mean to burden you with my problems." She finished with a heavy sigh.

Well, here went nothing. "The thing is, I don't know if they're entirely your problems..." Cera hesitantly began. "I've been around a while, and now that you've explained a little bit, I'm pretty sure I know where your woman is."

"Wh-what?" the priestess hissed, startled. "You do?! Where? Where can I find her?"

Oh boy... "I was there with Valorie when the Order of the Silver Lance was founded at the door to Amara's cathedral. I was in shock and scared and angry. I was sure a part of me died that day. I'd lost so much, and so I left the rest of my life behind. I wanted to forget. I didn't want to take any of it with me, so I dropped my name and picked up something simpler, something that fit what I'd become, something that wouldn't remind me of everything that had been taken from me. But... there are something's you just can't ever forget, and while everyone calls me Cera now, I still remember Ophelia Crow, the meek little acolyte that got turned into a monster."

There was a long, heavy pause. It was oddly refreshing, surrendering all that to a stranger, even if it did bring up some unpleasant memories. Xandria just let out a shaky breath. "You...?"

She dropped her arms to her sides. "Hello."

"You're Ophelia Crow..."

"I was," she admitted, "but only for a little bit. I've been Cerasta, "Captain" of the Silver Lance for a whole lot longer. I haven't really felt like Ophelia in a long time, back when I still used to miss my old life."

The priestess standing awkwardly in front of her shook her head, as if rejecting what she'd been told. "You... You were there. You were one of the first... Mother's Mercy, the horrors you must have seen."

With an inward flinch, she sighed. "Y-yeah. There are only a handful of people left that can remember first-hand what it was like. Like I said, I wish I didn't."

Xandria didn't seem to know what to do with her hands, but they eventually clasped into a tight ball in front of her as she dipped into a low bow and stayed there for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Ophelia. I didn't mean to bring you back to that dark time. I... I just don't know what to do now. What am I supposed to do?"

"It's Cera now." she muttered with a shrug. "And I don't know. I was just trying to help you out. I don't really have any answers for you. I haven't been called by that name in decades. If the gods wanted you to find me that badly, they could have just said, "Cera, the giant viper lady, you can't miss her." I'm sorry. I hope you weren't expecting some huge revelation."

"I... I wasn't really sure what to expect, but you aren't deceiving me. You must be who I was sent to find."

"I don't know... "sent" seems like a strong word. But then again I've never really dealt with visions or prophecies. It always seemed like nonsense to me. Saying that, though, there aren't that many people still around that know who I was, and I don't think you could have just picked up that little tidbit in passing. So either you had a _very_specific hallucination, or you are here for some reason I can't guess at. Are... are you alright?"

Leaning with a hand on the silver-streaked wall, the Sister seemed to be struggling with her composure. "I... Yes, I... I'm just confused. I was certain I was being called here, to you, for a reason. I was certain that my purpose would become obvious when I found you. But... you don't seem to be in the sort of need I was expecting."

"No, I'm pretty comfortable at the moment," she mused, "nothing really troubling me, no real problems I need solved."

"No." Xandria said vehemently as she straightened and put some iron back into her voice. "That can't be. I'm meant to be here. It was your name in my vision. It was this place."

She cocked a scaly eyebrow at the priestess's dire tone. "Maybe you'll have another vague vision. That seems like the sort of thing the gods would do, trickle just enough information to keep you running in circles."

Xandria twitched, almost looking up at her. "Are... are you mocking me?"

Her cheeks heated, and she apologetically dipped her head. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. It's just that this whole situation seems a little farfetched. If the gods really wanted you to come to me, why wouldn't they just tell you what to do when you got here? Why not tell you who I really was instead of giving you the name of a woman who might as well have died fifty years ago? If it weren't for the fact that it's so unlikely for you to know who I was so long ago, I'd say your story is a load of manure."

Crossing her arms, the Sister flicked her tail in agitation. "Perhaps that is precisely why I was made to go to such lengths to find you? I suppose that it didn't occur to you. For someone who once called herself a Daughter of Amara, you have very little faith."

Cera's eyes narrowed. "And I suppose that it didn't occur to you that the gods haven't given me much reason to have faith."

Xandria readied a rebuke, but stopped herself short. "I... Of course. Please forgive me. I've a bad habit of getting overly defensive, but please know that my frustrations aren't directed at you. I joined the Sisterhood because I never wanted to feel without purpose again, but now that I've so unceremoniously reached the end of my road, I can only wonder why I was guided all the way here in the first place. I'm not fond of feeling lost."

It wasn't until the naga relaxed that she realized how tense she had gotten in only a few moments. "Yeah," she sighed, flicking at the air with her tongue, "I don't think many people are. I'm sorry I don't have any answers for you, but I'm just as confused as you are. And... I didn't mean to get so testy with you. You just brought up some memories I tried very hard for a very long time to get rid of. Maybe we should start over and try this again? I'm Captain Cerasta, of the Order of the Silver Lance."

The smile returned to the veiled cleric's voice. "A pleasure. I am Sister Xandria Ebonmere, Custodian of our Mother's children, and I am at your service." Reaching up, the Sister offered Cera her hand, and the naga gingerly took it up, giving it a tiny shake. Xandria's scaly, cerulean skin was smooth and supple, but her grip was unshy.

Good. "If you'd like, Sister, I'm sure that the Archmage has provided your party with refreshments. I could accompany you there."

"I would appreciate that." Xandria said with a nod, following her as Cera slithered back down the hall. "I must admit, you aren't exactly the woman I was expecting to meet."

She glanced down at the priestess before shrugging. "What sort of woman were you expecting?"

Xandria fell silent for a moment, contemplating her footsteps. "You don't seem to be as... old as I had gathered you were, to say nothing of your... grandeur."

Wasn't that a puzzle for the ages... "I get a lot of exercise. They say it does a body good."

After giving her answer a thoughtful hum, the Sister continued. "Perhaps you'll show me your regimen sometime. Though I dare say that my spirit will ever be as strong as yours."

"My spirit?"

"Yes. While I can't speak to your... unconventional form, I can say that you possess a spirit that fully matches your stature. You are a serpent as well, I take it."

As well? Was there a snake-morph under that robe and veil? "Yeah... What gave it away?"

"Well, I noticed the lack of legs, but I've learned better than to assume. Thank you."

Puzzled, she continued with a shrug. "Sure... Listen. The Archmage is serious about helping you. I know that... even though it was me you were looking for, I don't have any answers for you. But if there's anyone who can help you find some, it's him. You mentioned that you'd been placed in Southcliff. Are you staying with the church?"

"Indeed. I've been quartered in the cathedral, where I can serve in some small way while I... try to make sense of all this."

Cera could sympathize with that. "That's what I suspected, but I'm sure that if it were more convenient to you, the Archmage would offer you a room. And if you think of any way I can really help you, please let me know."

Xandria hesitated, and Cera slowed, looking back at her. "I will, thank you. I understand the strangeness of my situation, and I appreciate your being so accommodating and... understanding."

With a soft sigh, the naga nodded slowly, and extended a hand, beckoning the veiled cleric forward. "There are a lot of people that understand being lost and desperate for answers. You aren't the first one to make their way here. For now though, we should start with a cup of tea."