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Zubeia took a long, slow breath as she stared intently into the big gaping hole in front of her. A spiral staircase ran off into the dark chasm, lit only by the soft glow of the various treasures it encompassed. The light seemed to shimmer ever so slightly as it crawled its way up the many steps, growing weaker and weaker as it ascended until the faintest touch remained, reflecting ever so slightly off her dark blue scales. A hidden chamber, a chamber of suffering, kept far from the public eye, locked away so that its pain would never be able to touch anyone ever again.
Until right now.
Zubeia tightly squeezed her eyes shut, forbidding entry to the light around her and casting herself into a dark void. The longer she stared into the abyss below, the deeper the pit in her stomach felt. The more she felt that, despite her grand, awe-inspiring wings, she would start falling further and further into the ground, unable to do anything to counteract it, as if some unknown force was trying to pull her, a force that refused to let her go no matter how much she struggled.
She drew her attention instead to a small stream of water gently trickling down the spire walls, the aftermath of a recent rainfall finding its way through the miniature cracks within this aging monument. Her eyes followed the water as it continued, falling from rock to rock, cracking and bursting into smaller droplets on impact. It caught the luminescence of the room and playfully threw it back at her, seemingly without a care for any problems or pain the world could throw at it.
Zubeia almost chuckled at how silly it sounded, but she couldn’t deny that a small part of her was envious, envious of such a world, without pain, without worries, without the ever-present sense of doom that breathed down her neck. She focused harder on that innocent stream and closed her eyes, more gently this time, allowing the soft sounds of the tiny waterfall gliding along the various rocks and stones to whisk her away into that carefree headspace. Even if it was only temporary, she would take whatever small moments of peace she could get. She sighed in relief as the thoughts and problems that governed the world, once so pressing, began to blur away into obscurity, leaving a random mash of noise that, itself, eventually departed towards the deepest edges of her mind.
That moment of peace was, of course, immediately harshly interrupted when the loud and booming voice of the human crown guard pierced through her, ripping her right back into the real world. “Good news, your majesty! We have obtained the… Uh… this…” He placed the box containing the large, blue, shining crystal on the floor with a proud expression on his face.
“Siren stone.” Zubeia corrected, a small amused smile beginning to form on her face.
“Uhh… yeah… that…” Soren chuckled nervously, hastily scratching the back of his head. The human next to him, the tracker, Corvus, rolled his eyes as he slowly disembarked the sun dragon he was riding, Pyrrah, but not without slight uplift on the corners of his lips as well.
Zubeia snorted at the display. As much as Soren was sometimes loud and obnoxious, she found something endearing about it all. She always saw an excellent soul behind those blue eyes of his, and she appreciated his upbeat attitude from time to time. Even if his antics didn't all land, the ones that did always managed to bring a smile to her face. Oh yes, humans were fascinating creatures indeed.
However, that feeling of warmness was quickly drained and replaced with a cold sense of dread when she saw Azymondias, her son, emerging from the chasm. His face was utterly downcast, not even attempting to look up at her mother or the rest of the group as he stared towards the ground, almost frighteningly emotionless. He came to a dead stop on ground level without so much as a small chirp.
“Zym? My son, what’s troubling you?” Zubeia inquired.
The dragon quietly craned his head to look at her mother. Her breath hitched as she saw the distress in his glassy eyes, betraying the dark swirl of sadness and pain that lingered beneath. She could almost see it stirring and threatening to break out at any moment. He held his head there for about a second before looking back down to the floor, the small puddles in his eyes growing in size.
She rarely saw him like this, and it was always horrible sight on the rare occasions she did. Azymondias, her little bundle of joy that could always light up anyone’s dark days with his adorable little smile and his excited, playful attitude, so overcome with sadness. He was far too young for the world to be crushing down on him now.
“Zym??? What’s the matter?” Zubeia tried again while inching ever so slightly closer to her son as the others began to look on with worry. It was then that she came to a realization. Soren, Corvus, Pyrrah, and Zym had all made it out of that chamber. However…someone was missing. “Zym… where’s King Ezran?”
Zym exhaled a tiny, weak puff of air, barely audible to anyone who didn’t have the incredibly sensitive ears of a dragon, before slowly turning his head to look back down into the chasm they had just come out of. Only then did he let out one single, faint “Coo.”
Zubeia’s stomach dropped as her mind wandered through all the possibilities of what could have happened down there. She had, after all, grown a pretty significant liking to the young king throughout the years, partially aided by seeing how well he and her son got along.
Watching Zym’s eyes light up with excitement whenever he saw the boy was enough to warm anybody’s heart. But on top of that, he was also a genuinely good kid, always willing to do what was best for the world and eager to help whenever possible. He and her son had restored her hope of a future where humans, elves, and dragons would finally be able to find an understanding at last, no longer constantly being at each other’s throats, forming alliances instead of enemies. She couldn’t imagine something happening to him now.
“I guess… he just wanted some time alone…” Soren started, his voice faint and melancholic. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but… Ezran seemed… off… down there… as if something was troubling him, but he wouldn’t tell us what it was.”
Zubeia breathed a sigh of relief, so nothing dangerous had happened down there, at least. That was good news for now. However, she continued to pay close attention to the crown guard’s words.
“When we were on our way back up… Ezran stopped… he had this odd expression on his face… and then he turned around. I tried to call after him, but he never responded… that’s when we went on ahead.” Soren’s eyes scrunched together, and his lips tightened, appearing increasingly troubled. He then looked back up at Zubeia for a moment before averting his eyes and shaking his head. “I don’t know… I’ve never seen him like that before, but it was like… I just knew… that it was time to back off….”
Zubeia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t know what to make of the situation, quite frankly. She didn’t know that much about how the human mind worked, but she knew that many aspects of the pain and grief they felt were similar to elves and dragons. The belief that humans were emotionless, soulless husks was a preposterous idea that some other dragons like Sol Regem held, which she never quite believed in, now even less after everything she’d seen the past two years. And so, she began to think…. She knew that the artifacts in that room carried a lot of pain, and a lot of grief, though the meaning behind most of those wouldn’t speak to Ezran, considering how long before he was born everything here came from. She started going through the many possibilities, but it didn’t make sense; nothing in that room could prompt that sort of reaction from him… unless…
Then it hit her.
Oh no…
Just then, she heard the sound of faint footsteps making their way up the spiral staircase, getting closer and closer. Though small, they carried a ferocity with them, rapidly and mercilessly beating the stone as they slammed onto the floor below. Zubeia nearly held her breath as she watched the shape of the young king emerge from the hole.
There was something dark in his expression, though Zubiea couldn’t make out entirely what it was due to his averted gaze. He seemed to be looking downwards for the expressed purpose of not looking directly at her. His fists were clenched together harshly, with his nails digging into the flesh of his palms, causing his arms to shake ever so slightly.
Zym cooed sadly and then slowly but nervously made his way to the young king, first attempting to look up into his face with his eyes spread wide open and mouth curved into a frown of despair. However, despite his attempts, the young king only slightly twitched his head to the side to look at the dragonling before turning it back to its original position, the rest of his body remaining frozen.
Zym let out a small yip as he gently nudged the boy’s arm with his snout, causing something within the child king to quiver. Finally, when Zym pressed the arm again, he managed to lift it up and over his head as he nuzzled closer to the boy’s chest. Ezran, in turn, slowly ran his hand along the long white mane of the dragon, his breath breaking now and then and shooting out abrupt spurts of air.
The sight almost became too much for Zubeia to bear; she felt something large and heavy work up her throat, utterly ignorant of her attempts to swallow it back down. “K-King Ezran?”
Zubeia almost stumbled backward as Ezran’s face shot up to meet hers with such force that she could barely track its movement. Now for the first time, Zubeia managed to get a close look at the young kid’s eyes, loaded with anguish, gloom, sorrow, and a hint of confusion. There was something else there too, something so strong that it dominated everything else present. In addition to the cacophony of horrible emotions, there was the undeniable strong presence of cold, hard, rage, manifesting itself in a glare so frigid that it sent chills down her spine.
She knew those emotions all too well; it had been the same mix she had felt when she had found out that her husband was dead and her son was missing, that bitter anger infused with grief and sorrow. It only served to confirm what she suspected.
Ezran had seen the arrow, the confirmation that the assassins she had sent back then had done their job… that they had killed his father.
She mentally cursed herself over a thousand times. How could she have forgotten that that was down there? Zubeia didn’t even know if Ezran knew beforehand that her order had done the deed which took his dad away and almost killed him too. She suspected he did but, obviously, had never been fully confronted with that reality until now. It never came up in conversation, perhaps because Ezran had been too busy with the prospect of establishing and maintaining peace or just because, understandably, he never wanted to think about it. But there was no running from it down there.
Zubeia braced for what was to come; she wasn’t looking forward to having this conversation, she never was, though she figured it would have to happen eventually if they were to truly move forward. She had no idea what she would say; she had been in a completely different headspace when she gave that order, and her actions back then disgusted her now. It’s partly why she locked that arrow away in the chamber with all the other horrible memories. After the two years she had gotten to know Ezran, she couldn’t fathom wanting what she did back then, and she was sorry. She just wished she could communicate that now. “K-King Ezran…I-”
“Don’t,” Ezran spat out harshly, immediately regretting it. Zym cooed again sadly as Ezran took a long, deep breath and focused his view on the daylight bleeding in through the large entryway of the spire. “Don’t… I’m fine…”. He lifted his arm off the dragonling, who continued to watch him sadly as he bent down to pick up the stone they had come all the way here to collect. “We have what we came for… let’s go,” Ezran said emotionlessly, turning toward the exit.
“You sure, Ezran? you look a little… weep-ridden…” The crown guard chimed in. Despite his… unconventional way of speaking, Zubeia could tell from his face and his tone that this was coming from a place of genuine concern.
Ezran said nothing momentarily, merely staring at Soren blankly before repeating. “Yes… I’m fine… let’s get going; we have to get to Domina before Aaravos is released….”
However, Soren wasn’t backing down yet and stood before him, blocking his way. “Look, Ezran I…”
“Soren, we don’t have time for this.” Ezran groaned, pushing him out of the way. “Let’s go.”
Zubeia’s eyes filled with moisture as she watched the scene unfold. She felt like she at least had to say something. “Ezran… please-”
“I SAID I’M FINE!!!” Ezran snapped back, turning around on a dime, growling as he finished his sentence.
Zubeia was immediately taken aback by the display. Nobody had ever spoken to her with such ferocity, and hearing that tone of voice come from Ezran, of all people… it was jarring, to say the least. A part of her felt she should’ve gotten angry, should’ve fired back at being disrespected like that… but for some strange reason… she couldn’t. She couldn’t find it within herself to hold any resentment towards the young boy’s actions because… in some way, she felt like she understood him. She understood what was going through his head and the instinct to close himself off from other people, to lash out at the world. After all, she had gone through it all herself as well. So with that in mind, she could only hang her head down dejectedly, not saying anything else.
Zym chirped sadly once more, and in response, Ezran seemed to loosen up. His glower began to melt away into a face of realization and then pure, wide-eyed shock at what he had just done. He stumbled backward, letting out small groans that sounded like gasps before scrunching his eyes shut and forcing the new, salty liquid to run along the pre-made path of existing tear tracks. He then immediately turned around and started running towards the entrance.
“Ezran!” Soren called out, to no avail
The dragonling tried to follow but was stopped immediately by his mother, who looked down on him sadly. “No, Zym…” She let out a deep sigh before she continued. “Soren was right, I think your friend needs some space right now.”