Jewel
Spring nights in Lazaroth still harbored winter's lingering chill. Tugging her cloak tighter against her figure the matriarch slipped quietly across the courtyard, every breath visible in the silver glow of the moon. She wisped across the final stretch, blinking out in a flash of black and reappearing at a set of thick, sliding doors. They stood a great deal taller than the woman but moved aside with ease. 

She stopped in the doorway, warmth and the scent of fresh bedding washed over her. From the darkness carried slow, slumbering breaths, and a single low, welcoming rumble. Ashira knew the path well, stepping carefully around large nests and over scaled tails until she reached her companion.

The wyvern rose to greet her, huffing a hot breath that forced the hood from her once obscured face. She pressed her forehead against the beasts, murmuring in drowish. The creature rumbled a reply and the pair set to work. Soon the wyvern was saddled, eager energy expelled with lashing tail. The drow queen guided her mount back the way she had entered, though her help was unnecessary. The pair routinely flew at night and the beast knew its walk to freedom well. 
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Once they had cleared the doors they wasted no time, both craved the sky. Ashira swung herself atop the creature in a fluid, familiar movement, and with similar grace it leapt toward the blanket of midnight stars. Biting air flowed over them like cold water, invigorating. They climbed higher, every sweep of dark wings carrying them further from the snow dusted courtyard below. A bare patch of stone marked the spot from which they had departed, and soon it was hardly visible. Ashira set her gaze beyond Gaulven, to the Lake of Stone.
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・. 。.・°・✦・. ☾ .・✦ ・°・. 。. ・

The beast dipped its wing, turning in a wide circle that allowed its rider to survey the ground below. Ravens dotted the sky around them, hardly visible in the night, sweeping over the landscape. Satisfied with their search the matriarch descended, her wyvern soaring lower until Ashira dismounted in a billow of shadows. She reappeared at the water's edge as her mount continued on, ever watchful. The drow composed herself during the short trek from shoreline to tree line, running a hand through wind tangled hair and dispelling the magic she used during flight. With her back turned to the still waters Ashira awakened a deeper magic, reaching across forest and sea to locate the increasingly familiar aura of the Iron King.

His emotions trickled through the bond, brushing along her own consciousness. With this connection she worked further magic, opening the awaited gate. It began as a single point of light, as though a needle had pierced the fabric of the king's wooded reality. Expanding swiftly it cast a glow across the trees, illuminating the fresh foliage of Alynthi's softer spring. The leaves shimmered and shadows danced in the ethereal blue light, but the beauty was short lived. It shifted, taking on the shape of a simple, luminous circle. From its center sprouted inky shadows, spilling across the forest floor. They twisted and writhed as though alive before snaking around the portal's shining outline. The light dimmed, hardly visible in the dark depths of Greenheart.
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Gradually, encircled by the diminished glow, a scene became visible. First the moon, now hanging above and before Alynthi's king. Then its escort of sparkling stars, obscured at the gate's center where a silhouette blocked them from view. Behind the dark figure flowed an expanse of water, reflecting the night sky. The Lake of Stone, surely. 

Ravens surged forth, diving through the portal and into the warmer air where they circled in silence. The matriarch stepped closer to the passage from his land to her own, features softly illuminated by magic. Her relaxed stance expressed a calm confidence, but her bright eyes studied him closely. Full lips curved neither up nor down, providing little indication of the drow's emotions. A cloak of deep purple enveloped scantily clad curves, dark fabric framing ink and scars down the length of her figure. His initial scrutiny would reveal no weapons, but if he were thorough he may catch a brief glimpse of her wyvern crossing the starry sky.

The enchantress dipped her head, briefly extinguishing the light of her fiery gaze with closed lids before finding his eyes once more. Stepping aside she welcomed him with only the language of her body, lips unmoving, voice silent. Waiting for whatever precautions he thought necessary the matriarch probed the surrounding woods. She sensed only the simple minds of woodland creatures, nothing to ignite suspicion. The wind rushed over the lake, rippling its surface, tugging at her cloak and hair. She remained still as stone, even as the breeze swept stray strands across her expressionless countenance.
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Jennifer
*A spring night. Calm, but never still. It was a time for prime campaigning - when winter began to lessen, an encampment seemed to buzz with life before the last frosts came. Swords were sharpened, packs were made, plans finalized, and horses taken out of their winter blankets. They were long past that now. It was the time for battles in the early morning, routs in the afternoon, and desperate digging long into the night. The smell of rain that preceded a slog through mud clung to his memories.

It smelled of rain tonight, too. He had no doubt a slog would follow.

Hours earlier, he had ordered for one of his court mages - Elias was the man's name - to bond him to a familiar. A spirit to be an extra set of eyes and ears, to go where he could not. A scout for an army, when he had employed them in his forces. But this familiar was just for tonight. There was no use in naming the large barn owl that sat perched on his shoulder as he strode into the stables. The smell of fodder and horses met his nostrils as he hauled open the doors to find his mount.

He had long since dismissed the guards for the moment. None would interrupt him on this night mission. Sturdy wooden doors and iron hinges opened at the wave of a hand, and Tempest, the gray warhorse that Astalios had ridden for the latter half of the war, came readily at his master's word. Barding in black and gold settled itself upon the horse's body gently, then the saddle lifted by the nails and fastened by its own buckles. Astalios swung onto his back with a practiced step. 

It was comfortable to sit upon the destrier's back. The throne of Alynthi was not easy to occupy, but here he found himself at home. With another wave of the hand, and a signal sent through the small silver stag he carried, the guards were notified and the doors behind him closed. The king, the horse, and the owl set off into the night, together heading into the woods where none else would follow.*

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*For a long while he rode under the moon, elvish vision keeping him alert in the darkness as he traversed the dusty road into the Greenheart. He had hunted here, when the threat of the world's end had not loomed so large. Perhaps he would one day hunt here again, if they were able to pass safely through the crisis. In silence, he rode and thought of nothing but the destination. He would know when he saw it. 

Was he right to put his life in her hands? This was an enemy, a slaver, a drow matron of Lazaroth. She knew of his... Condition - the only one he had not told of it. His sister was of little worry. She could be trusted. His father and Temperance were dead. Only the queen remained. If she had told others, he did not know it - neither his sources nor his intuition told him so. With whom would she have shared? Alyus would have made some reaction to it, surely. Khisfire was inscrutable to him - but from what he had heard, so too was it inscrutable to its erstwhile allies.

His hands gripped the reins ever tighter, and his teeth ground together in anticipation. It was not a favorite hobby of his to discuss the greatest fears and failings trapped within his heart - and neither was it favorable to speak alone with an enemy like Queen Dhakashira. But it had to be done. As Tempest walked on down the midnight path, a pinprick of light appeared before him. He brought the horse to a stop quickly as the blue glow expanded, glinting back off the black-and-gold armor that was the king's second skin and the golden wreath of antlers that signified his office.

Blackness expanded within it, pushed outwards to create a doorway. This was her entrance. The owl on his shoulder flapped its silent wings and climbed to perch in a nearby oak as the swarm of ravens flew through the portal's boundaries, doubtless checking that he had upheld his end of the bargain. She had done the same during the royal conference, some days before.*

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*Carefully, he inspected the scene through the portal - water that stretched behind a woman's figure, the moon and stars at night illuminating her from the back. A cold breeze from the chilly Lazarothi air. That was hard to replicate with magic, he thought. The feel of it. Ambient temperature seeping through. For a moment he thought he saw a shadow in the sky, though the flock of ravens were more than enough to create one.

The figure approached and stepped through the portal, coming into focus as her spell lit the scene with its arcane glow. A cloak, deep purple. A black dress of the sort that the Lazarothi often wore, leaving very little to the imagination. Tattoos of the same shape traced her body - and it was the same bright eyes that caught him in the Thyseer library that now scrutinized him before she stepped aside as if to bid him enter.

There was nothing but to move.

He returned her nod with one of his own, swinging out of the saddle as the owl left its perch on tawny wings to sail quietly through the portal ahead of him. As he dismounted, he tied the reins to a tree, letting the armored barding that had protected the horse in battle flow off and reform into a small fence. It would hold till his return. The owl circled once, then twice, feeding the scene of the quiet lake to him through their mental bond. The silhouette of a wyvern, too. But none else.

He strode forward and through the portal, passing the drow queen by as he entered her domain, turning to await her. It was well that this meeting was secret. Not many in either court would have rejoiced to see it. There was no need to speak until they were in one place, and the portal closed. For the moment, he waited, stern and serious as his sabatons rested on the Lazarothi sand.*
Jewel
Her lip twitched ever so faintly, whether it was to scowl or smile would have been indiscernible had her eyes not simultaneously sparkled with amusement. The cause was not obvious, and as she promptly resumed an apathetic expression it could be assumed the change in her countenance was not purposely revealed. She was not taunting him then. The heat of her steady gaze followed him, as did the matriarch herself. With a whisper the portal was closed, its glow blinking out and leaving the pair to see only by the moon's light. With the doorway to Alynthi shut, only to be opened at her will, unexpected emotions swirled in her. While some part marveled at the trust and *Confidence* Required for this moment, another felt practically euphoric at the thought of trapped prey. Cut off from escape. Vulnerable. There was a scratching within her skull, a tingle in her fingertips. The Hym. Her hand curled into a fist, promptly tucked into the depths of her cloak. 

*Not. Now.* She internally chided. The creature screeched a reply, trying to wrestle some feral response from her. Writhing wisps began to frame her vision. The scraping of claws against bone grew more eager, frantic. The silence between rulers dragged on, too long. She had expected this assault, prepared, and pushed back against the demon as her feet carried her to the lapping water of the lake. At last she spoke, words preceded by a sigh.
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"Your Majesty," Perhaps he recognized the subtle strain in her voice, "Thank you for forfeiting the advantage of familiar territory." The comfort of home beneath her feet seemed to aid in her struggle against the Hym. It roared in protest, the sound consuming her thoughts. The Iron King had always roused the demon, but their current isolation made it bold. Neither had any companions to aid them, none to calm Ashira and no one to defend the king. The Hym knew this, and was eager to feed on the guilt and chaos it could cause. Were it to break its mental bonds it was nearly guaranteed that either Lazaroth or Alynthi would lose their leader. The matriarch's head ached, a steady pain that began to radiate down her spine and spread across her shoulders. They tensed, but she was gaining ground. She had become strong over the years, in ways few people knew. 

Ashira needed time, a few moments to collect herself before venturing into deeper topics of conversation. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, beckoning with her gaze rather than her voice before moving along the curving shore of the lake, "Have you received any news from your scholars since last we spoke?" She felt the answer was known to her, if anything had been discovered Alyus would have informed her. It was enough for polite conversation, however. Enough to get her through this assault. Even if he thought her silly for asking, it would be better than the unleashing of her greatest secret. Besides, there was always the possibility that his people had kept something from the bear king. What would be Astalios' motivation to share with her, though?

It mattered not, *She only needed to get through the next few minutes.* To mentally cage the demon once more.
Jennifer
*With the last glimpse of home behind him, the night air of Lazaroth was little more than an invasion of scents and sounds. His hackles raised in response - there was a different sort of creature in these woods, a frog's call he did not know, a chittering sound within the trees, that dark wyvern's shape against the moon. His jaw clenched, though his fists he kept open with some effort. The reminder that he was alone and in no place to reach his army pounded through his head again and again. 

Forfeiting the advantage of familiar territory. What a colossal understatement. In Alynthi, he could be certain that the watchmen were paid to watch and not to turn a blind eye, and that the highways were meant to be safe, that every man was free to make his own choices and not chained to their masters by some cruel twist of fate that had placed them in servitude. Perhaps a cruel twist of a whip. Gods, what a gamble this had turned out to be.

Yet it had to be done. In order to buy himself some time, it had to be done. There was no possible way he could allow the news to come out before he had verified that his allies were trustworthy - they had been so to his father, he knew, but things were shifting often too rapidly to keep track of. Like staying afloat in quicksand, one could not rest and be devoured by the shifting tides of fortune. This viper in front of him was hardly trustworthy, yet she knew regardless what form his thoughts had taken...

Wind has through the willows flown
Oer the hills where grass has grown
Like an endless waving sea
Melody, return to me.*

"My thanks for your discretion in this matter, likewise." *He replied, offering what was to be an empty compliment if she had not been truthful. Her intentions were clouded, as all drow tended to shroud them, but for what reason she would not spread the information he knew not. It was of advantage to her - and why should he be worthy of a promise kept? Words were wind in Lazarothi court...*

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"Sadly, I have learned little yet of what the scholars unearth in their search." *He exhaled, trying to focus on matters of state. Surely, this research coalition was a matter of state worth discussing, was it not?* "They scour the globe for the old outposts of dragons, believing that the devourer discussed might represent one of those ancient powers - or all of them together. Truthfully, since the Era of Strife was so violent indeed, there is little left on record that survived in the ruins of what was once Leteron."

*He himself had once been interested in the land where his ancestors had ruled - when full humans still walked the earth, and fought back against the dragons with weapons forged of spell-made steel to protect the innocent. Then their rending to ashes in the Great Calamity...* "Lazaroth, as I recall, has undergone several periods of repression regarding the history of that time to avoid connections with the last Patriarch."

"Yet for now, nothing." *He admitted.* "If there was more to speak of, I would share it freely - but the scope is so wide and our time so short that I fear our best recourse may be preparing our armies for action even as our scholars set to work. To be caught unaware is death." *Speed and surprise, a comforting voice whispered in his ear. Many times with speed and surprise you broke greater numbers. Now the breaker can become the broken, ground beneath the wheel of time.*