Chapter Text
Her tower is the first thing she feels disappear – the connection to it snapping like a line pulled too tight, leaving nothing in its place. The unsuspectedness of it leaves her staggering briefly, the books in her arms clattering to the floor as a hand comes up to brace against the wall until the shock eases. Drake watches her closely, concern creasing his brow, “You alright, lass?”
Allura shakes her head, stooping to retrieve her books, and motioning for him to follow her. Something is not right , but she dare not voice her concerns until they’re somewhere more private. Not that she thinks anyone close enough to overhear them will understand what she means, but it’s a chance Allura feels unwilling to take. If something is wrong, she doesn’t want to worry anyone who needn’t be. With Drake close on her heels, she pushes into a study – the one she and Drake took over so they could study the ziggaurat – and as she crosses the threshold of the room, her connection to the Lyceum severs, sending her head spinning once more.
“You okay? Vysoren, you good?”
“Something’s wrong.” A single busy eyebrow raises in response, waiting for her to elaborate. The dwarven man is thankfully quiet, though he watches her carefully as she deposits her books on the desk and begins to flit about the small space. “I’ve lost connection to Emon – my tower and the Lyceum – both of my sigils are gone,” she explains, reaching for a components pouch that quickly disappears into her bag of holding. “They’re permanent, they aren’t meant to just disappear , they must have been destroyed somehow – something’s wrong. And Uriel was threatening to abdicate before I left for Whitestone. Maker, if that has anything to do with –”
She rambles on for a while – making a list of any number of things that could be going wrong, a small number of supplies disappearing into the bag of holding before Drake finally stops her, stepping in front of her frantic path about the room.
“Calm down, lass. Take a breath, think . Your sigils were destroyed, right? So then you can’t get into the city. What if the danger is ongoing and you walk right into a trap? You’re no good to anybody if you get yourself killed by jumping in blind. Let’s get a plan together – let Lady de Rolo know we have to take care of something – of course I’m going with you, don’t try and convince me otherwise. Whatever’s going on can wait long enough for us to not be walking into our deaths.”
He’s right. She can’t just jump them into the middle of Emon with no plan, preparation, or without letting Cassandra she’ll be leaving. She’d gotten so swept up in the worry of what losing those sigils might mean, she’d completely lost her wits. Deep breaths, Allura. “You’re right, you’re right.” Once she slows herself down, a plan proposes itself almost immediately. “Alright, I have an idea – there’s a group of adventurers I’ve become friends with.” Are the members of Vox Machina her friends? Allies, certainly. But then, she doesn’t just drop everything and do magical research for all her allies simply because they asked. “They’ve recently acquired a keep that’s far enough outside the city it ought to still be standing. I can manually teleport us there and we can figure out what’s happening. Last I heard, they were headed to Emon, so they might also have information about whatever’s happened if they weren’t directly the cause of it themselves.”
“And you’re sure they’re trustworthy?”
“They’re reckless – probably more chaotic than we ever were – but I do trust them.”
“Alright. So we’ll find your friends.” He re-adopts the tone of the leader of a party so easily. Despite being accustomed to being mostly in charge herself now, she nods. Funny, she thinks, anyone else would be quaking in their boots before even considering taking such a tone with her nowadays. Perhaps except for Kima… “Great. Think an hour’s enough time to talk to everyone you need to?”
“That should be enough time. Meet me outside?”
“Out front in an hour,” Drake nods and turns to exit the room. She wonders briefly what he might have to get in order. He always packed light – if he packed at all for short excursions and he hadn’t come to Whitestone with much to begin with. (Used to drive Dohla up the proverbial wall.) Allura doesn’t have time to speculate, however, and she hastens to finish packing what she thinks she’ll need out of the study into the bag of holding. She makes a brief stop by her room for a couple essentials and a few bags of extra components – just in case – before setting off to find Cassandra within the castle.
The guards stationed outside the library are the most obvious place to start and neither one of them try to stop Allura as she knocks. She doesn’t wait for an answer, however, and continues into the room. “Lady Cassandra, I do hope I’m not intruding.”
“Lady Allura! Not at all, please come in. Give me just a moment,” the young De Rolo says, scribbling something down before marking the page in her book and setting her work to the side. Once her attention is fully on Allura, Cassandra notices the bag hanging from her shoulder and her dark eyes narrow. “Is something the matter?”
“I’m afraid something rather urgent has come to my attention in Emon and I must go look into it – sooner rather than later. Master Thunderbrand has offered to accompany me, but we must leave immediately.”
“I see –have you come to any conclusions with the-”
“Unfortunately nothing conclusive. We do plan to return, however, hopefully within the next couple of days to continue our research. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t leave so suddenly, but–”
“No, no, of course. You must be terribly busy in addition to looking into our magical mysteries as a favor for my brother. I appreciate that you were willing to come on such short notice at all.”
“Nevertheless, we will return as quickly as we’re able, Cassandra.” It’s as close to a promise as Allura dares to venture. The young de Rolo nods, thanks Allura for her help thus far, and bids her safe travels. Were she anyone other than Allura Vysoren, she might’ve curtsied. Instead, Allura simply nods in return and leaves in a flurry of rich blue fabrics.
When she finally makes it outside, Drake is waiting for her. “So, Emon?”
“Emon. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be, lass. Don’t mess this up. I like all my body parts exactly as they are.”
Despite herself, Allura laughs before finishing her incantation and activating the teleportation spell. The air crackles, and in a flash of blue arcane energy, Allura steps through to Greyskull Keep, Drake right behind her.
They appear to have bypassed the door entirely, having landed instead just over the threshold and Allura wonders briefly if this is the correct place – people seem to be moving frantically around the house. More people than Allura remembers Vox Machina ever housing previously. Anxiety hangs in the air, but they aren’t waiting long before a perplexed, but blessedly familiar halfling appears to greet them. Erwen, the butler.
“Ah Erwen, I apologize for showing up in such a state without knocking. Are the members of Vox Machina available? I’m afraid I’ve an urgent matter to discuss with them.”
The halfling bows slightly, if he recognizes her, she isn’t sure, “They are just downstairs, I will see if they will recieve you.”
Allura nods, “Thank you.”
He disappears down the stairs and Allura turns to Drake his eyebrows are quirked upwards, “Vox Machina? Good name.”
“And a vast improvement, if you ask me. They were initially calling themselves The Shits .”
He chuckles, “All respectable adventuring parties start out with a questionable name at best – the more crass the better. If I remember right we –”
“I’ll never forgive you for letting the lot of you run around as Shit Luck before I joined.”
“We figured it out eventually.”
Allura hardly has time to hum before Erwen reappears from behind a door, the arguing voices growing louder as he emerges. “Ah, My Lady,” he says, looking rather flustered, “They said they’ll see you. Said it was rather urgent that you join them downstairs.”
Apparently her timing is as impeccable as always. Squaring her shoulders, she adopts the gait of the High Arcanist of Emon and motions for Drake to follow her, entirely unaware of the news she was about to receive.
Vox Machina’s recount of the fall of Emon sends her reeling. Uriel abdicating – dragons. Dragons. Suddenly, she’s barely twenty years old again. So young, but surrounded by such destruction…
Smoke hangs thick in the air, her lungs scream for oxygen. Everything around her is painfully still. That’s when she spots them. Sirus… Dohla… Ghenn… Their bodies burnt almost beyond recognition. Dead –––
She hears herself agree to something and Vex’ahlia pulls a tapestry away from some sort of skull. Immediately, she feels herself shift back into a comfortable place. Research. Work. This, she can do with ease. Her body feels worlds away and Allura can feel Drake’s gaze on her as she inspects the skull. The room is blissfully quiet as she works. Magic sparks from her fingertips, flashing blue before dissipating once more. A Githyanki skull – how in the heavens did they come across something of this sort?
She relays what she discovers with relative calmness (all things considered), answers their questions, and voices her concerns about their theories regarding the skull and any wishes it claims to be able to grant. Allura can only hope that they heed her cautions. (She’s unsure whether she trusts that they will. They’re an impulsive bunch…)
With Vox Machina’s momentary curiosity with the skull seemingly satiated, the topic turns once more to the state of the city. They’re looking to her for advice. Doing her best to disguise the way her hands shake, Allura takes a seat, “Right. Describe to me these dragons.”
It’s odd that dragons would band together in any situation – especially chromatic dragons, they’re normally such selfish and territorial creatures, she thinks. And then Grog interjects Vex’s descriptions, “ And a big red piece of shit.”
Her stomach drops to her feet. Drake is silent on the other side of the room, but Allura doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen. It can’t be .
Keyleth asks her a question she doesn’t hear. “The names,” she asks, her voice abnormally hoarse.
Vorugal . That one she recognizes and Allura shares everything she can recall about him. The others, Raishan and Umbrasyl don’t ring any bells. She’ll have to see what she can find. These adventurers will need every ounce of help they can scrounge together.
“The red one was the leader, you said?”
“Most definitely,” Vax’ildan confirms grimly.
“He had a message,” Keyleth adds, “He belted it out to the entire city: We can either fight or flee and-”
Vex corrects Keyleth. Something about fight or flight will result in sure death. Submission being left as the only remaining option.
“Right,” the fiery-haired half-elf continues, not finished, “And he said it was the guardians of this city that brought this upon Emon – that he has control now. Something about a new order.”
The room closes around her, lungs stinging as if they’re once again filled with smoke. The guardians of Emon. He’s back . “This is not your fault,” she says first, words firm. She doesn’t want Vox Machina to think themselves responsible, not for this. Not when it’s her fault. “This burden is mine.”
She glances at Drake now, meeting his solemn gaze as he nods gravely. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Allura forces herself to continue, “It is ours .... This dragon has been called many names throughout his time –” There isn’t a doubt in her mind that it’s him. What other massive red dragon might there be in Tal’Dorei? “The one it has taken is Thordak. The Cinder King.”
She launches into Thordak’s history, tells them every piece of information she ever learned about him fifteen years ago now. Everything she knows, she shares. How he reaked havoc on Tal’Dorei. How they were overpowered in their initial encounter with him. She goes into detail about the trap she devised with help of the Arcana Pansophical. The trap that was meant to keep the terrible beast on the elemental plane of fire for the rest of time. She tells Vox Machina, her voice growing higher as she fights to continue speaking through the threat of tears, of their final stand against Thordak. “We prevailed,” she says, feeling the tears finally burn as they run down her cheeks and she silently curses her weepy state, “At the sacrifice of many, including our own companions. Sirus. Dohla. Ghenn…” There isn’t a day she doesn’t miss them all. Her words are bitter on her tongue as she pushes on, her tale nearing the end, “Drake, Kima, and myself were the only ones that survived. And now our friends – their deaths. All for naught, it would seem… We thought – We bound his essence to the fountains of creation and thought he would stay there forever. I am so sorry. ”
From there, the conversation devolves into chaos. Percival, Keyleth, Vex, Grog, Vax – all of them talking over each other. There’s mention of the Ashari. Allura is trying to keep herself present – to keep her head above water, so to speak. But all she can see are her friend’s mangled bodies, smell the smoke and blood of the aftermath of their last stand. She thinks she overhears Keyleth saying that her people were charged with protecting the realms. She hears herself trying to explain how she’d trapped Thordak before – she wants Keyleth to know this isn’t the fault of her or her people.
“Oh my god, this is all my fault,” the druid laments
Percival speaks up. Everyone’s to blame. Cryptic. Keyleth disagrees, Vex interjects.
“No, no,” they misunderstood. She tries again to explain the stone that was used. Giant. Vox Machina couldn’t have destroyed it and thus they cannot be responsible for Thordak’s escape. That falls solely on her – on her misjudgment of her abilities.
“My people – would they be okay?”
Allura does her best to comfort Keyleth – to instil hope that her people might still live. She was never known for her bedside manner, though, and that reflects in Keyleth’s response.
More questions are asked, General Krieg is mentioned. Allura can only speculate what happened to him – the man either died in the demonic invasion or deserted around the same time. But no, dragons wouldn’t seek vengeance for another dragon. She reminds the adventurers that dragons are selfish. The fact that any number of these other chromatic dragons have banded together to free Thordak is worrying.
Up until now, Drake seemed to have settled into the corner of the room, content to watch. To listen. He breaks that stillness to cross to where Allura’s seated and places a hand on her shoulder. The look he fixes her with suggests he knows what she’s thinking, that he knows the visions and doubts plaguing her. “We might not know what’s happening, but we’re going to figure it out. You can’t blame yourself,” he says firmly. She’ll appreciate his words later, perhaps. For the moment, however, they seem not to land.
They all fall silent for a moment, frozen in place, all thinking, trying to find an answer somewhere in this mess .
“Allura?”
“Yes, Keyleth?”
“Would you consider us guardians of Emon?”
“I suppose – That is to say you are some of-”
“ Is this our fault? ”
The pain in Keyleth’s voice – Allura hates hearing it. She hates hearing Keyleth continue to find a way that this might be her or her companion’s fault when Allura knows who’s to blame.
“No. Keyleth, the only guardians Thordak could reasonably know about are the ones who locked him away – fifteen years ago. This isn’t your fault, I won’t have you blaming yourselves when it was my carelessness–”
“That’s not true,” Vax interrupts.
Another piece to the puzzle – two years ago Vox Machina spotted General Krieg in possession of four stones. The man was a dragon – a blue dragon. Dead by Vax’s hand. Still, she isn’t convinced that Vox Machina is any more to blame for the state of Emon, though they seem determined to share the blame. There’s no use arguing it further in any case.
They need a plan of action – they need to learn more and figure out what they’re going to do. They need allies. They need to know where these blasted dragons are .
Vex’ahlia confirms easily enough that Thordak remains in Emon, but can sense no others in the area. They’ve scattered for the moment – Allura can’t tell if that’s a good thing, but for the moment, it means fewer dragons to evade within the city. Small mercies.
Keyleth brings up that she’ll need to get into contact with her people. Vax’ildan laments that they’ve still no solution for the skull. No one knows who of the council survived, if any. They’re not even sure if Uriel made it out of the wreckage. They’re floundering – no direction.
Finally something clicks and Allura straightens. She takes charge, “Right. We need to take stock of who we can consider a friend – we need all the allies we can muster now. If we do anything first, it ought to be locating –” Westruun . Gone. “I’ve just lost connection to Westruun.”
Grog breaks the silence of the shock, “Fuck. It’s the whole world.”
Allura shakes her head, pulling herself together again from the initial shock of the loss of another sigil. Keep it together – for them. They’re looking to you in this. We cannot flounder now. Before panic can fully set in, she interrupts Keyleth’s distress, “This isn’t annihilation. If it was an extermination, there’d be no survivors. We live and so we can fight, but we must move quickly and we must move smartly.”
She’s fought a dragon before. Even if she wasn’t successful like she initially thought, she still knows much about what they’re about to face. The fact that he’s spared the city, even the smallest bit, is an advantage. But if they don’t work fast, they’ll lose that window of opportunity.
“Right,” she says, re-adopting her authoritative tone. She is Allura Vysoren, damn it. And they will come out of today with a plan and they’ll make it work.
She starts the rest of the party on brainstorming allies they can gather – and then moves to help Keyleth with a scrying ritual. It leaves Allura with a bitter taste in her mouth and leaves Keyleth seemingly feeling even more helpless than before they began. But they cannot afford to lose hope now. They can’t. She can’t. So Allura gives her best version of a pep-talk, tries her best to instill hope. They’ve a long road ahead, but all is not lost.
It takes a few hours, but they finally emerge with some semblance of a plan. Vox Machina will stay in Emon, at least long enough to scout out any still living allies. From there, they will move on, continuing to gather their friends. She and Drake will do the same, but beginning in Westruun. They’re all on reconnaissance. Every piece of information, every friendly face they can find will be to their benefit.
She and Drake bid Vox Machina goodbye for the time being. Be careful s are whispered all around. Having a plan, however feeble, helps her feel like she’s more in control, but it’s a facade she can feel slipping as Keyleth preemptively thanks her. Arcane energy crackles in the air as Drake casts their teleportation spell. There’s a flash, a crack of lightning, and then Vox Machina and Emon are miles away, before them instead, a crumbling Westruun.
“Shit,” the dwarf breathes and Allura can’t help but agree. “Should we have gone to Vasselheim first?”
“Vasselheim? I thought we discussed that just before we left – Vasselheim is fortified and protected by a platinum dragon on top of it. Even a hoard of chromatic dragons wouldn’t dare cross him .”
“Right. But Kima ought to know.”
Shit . Kima.