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Davrin groaned as he lifted himself to his hands and knees, shaking his head. When realisation dawned, he yanked his head up, wildly staring around him. He was alone. How was he alone? Assan, Rook, Taash, the darkspawn… There weren’t even bodies. Just him and a cold, hard floor.
Shakily he got to his knees, looking around. He was in a cave. A very well lit, unthreatening cave. Knowing his luck, that wouldn’t remain so for long. Soft noises came from a passage in front of him, light playing on the walls as if the source of it was moving on the inside.
Well, alright then. He guessed he was following the light.
The passage took him around a bend, the air almost shimmering around him before it led him outside, into brilliant sunlight. He held a hand in front of his face, trying to get used to the brightness. A soft breeze played with his hair, tugging at his clothes as he stepped onto grass. It felt good! It smelled good too, the fresh scent of trees, and grass, and sunshine…
Arlathan. Somehow, he was in Arlathan. And there was…. a wisp. Right. Maybe not Arlathan, then. Was he in the Fade?
Looking behind him, all he saw were trees, no passage, and no cave. Right.
There was the sound again! It was laughter. Someone was laughing. Such content, pure laughter it brought a smile to his face. Following the laughter, he found himself on the edge of a clearing. There was a woman sitting in front of him, surrounded by…. griffons! They were young, younger even than Assan, happily chirping as they all vied for the woman’s attention. She laughed again as one of them wormed its feathered body on her lap, cuddling its head below her chin.
“Alright, alright!” she said, splaying her fingers underneath its feathers and scratching its head. “Is this what you’re after, boy?”
She had long, ash-blond hair that was currently fascinating one of the griffons as it lightly pulled at it where it was tucked behind her pointed ears. In any other circumstances, she would just look like any normal, non-descript elf. But the absolute joy radiating from her turned her inexplicably beautiful. She just seemed so happy, so absolutely content, as she entertained the flock of baby griffons crawling all over her.
Davrin dropped down in front of her, mirroring her cross-legged position. She smiled, as if his being there was the most natural thing in the world.
“Is this a dream?” he asked.
“Who knows?” she said, angling her head as one of the griffons nibbled her pointy ear. “Could be we’re dead.”
“Not the worst way to go then.”
She laughed again and clapped her hands in delight when one of the babies took flight, spurring its siblings on until they were all chasing each other, weaving through the tree branches. Davrin watched as it turned into a game of hide and seek, laughing with her as one of the boys misjudged his step and ended up hanging upside down, grabbing the branch with its talons. It had a crooked ear and a crooked tail and was one hundred percent pure goof.
“They seem happy here,” he said, and looking back to her, he saw that the she was now leaning against a mature griffon, who was proudly sitting next to her, keeping watch over its fellows. Looking up, the trees were gone, and they were on the top of a desert plateau, the breeze at the high altitude cutting coldly, even while the sun baked like a furnace. The sky was filled with full-grown griffons, joyfully chasing each other at unimaginable speeds, happily squawking as they called out to one another.
The woman’s hair whipped in a gust of wind as she angled her head towards the sun, basking in the warmth.
“Come on,” she said, getting up and extending her hand as she pulled him up, effortlessly getting on the griffon next to her. “Put your left foot there,” she indicated, moving his hand to a better position on the griffon’s back. He did as she said and heaved himself up behind her.
He couldn’t believe how big the griffon was! He knew Assan and his siblings had a lot of growing to do. He’s seen the skeletons and the statues, but this…. This was a grown griffon… He was sitting on the back of a grown griffon! He grabbed onto her as the griffon’s muscles flexed and it leaped into the air, the weight of two grown elves apparently of no consequence.
Davrin had imagined riding Assan when he was big enough, of course he had, but this…. This! He could never imagine it, could never imagine the rush of adrenaline, the absolute freedom of the sky. He sat back a little as the woman in front of him let go of her griffon’s neck and spread her arms wide, throwing her head back as she whooped with delight. Behind her, he laughed, giddy with exhilaration.
Eventually, she landed on the top of a tower, and they both tumbled down from the griffon’s back, inelegant in their joy, though it hardly mattered. He grabbed her upper arms to keep her steady, waited for her to meet his eyes in fellowship, but she didn’t, only looked down to their left, with a sudden stoic expression on her face.
Following her eyes, he saw a sick griffon, hurting, angry, lashing out… And somehow, he knew… blighted. Unable to live with what it felt in itself. Confused, he looked at her again, saw the landscape change again to a giant, frozen lake beneath them. There was a sickening pull in his stomach.
“Griffons hate the blight,” she said. “They hate darkspawn. Their every instinct is to destroy it.”
A group of griffons whipped past. The soft playfulness of their earlier flight was gone, they were focussed now, intend only on their mission. They felt… angry.
They felt tainted.
“Do you know how you make a griffon live with the taint?” There was an equal harshness to her voice, the same focused, almost desperate energy he got from the animals.
“You lie to it,” she said, her voice full of angles and frost.
Another griffon landed next to him, the proximity making him take a step back. It was huge! It was also corrupted, its feathers falling out in patches where the blackness claimed its skin.
Before he could respond, another landed, and another, and another… He was surrounded, their massive bodies blocking out the sun, the taint’s melody playing in his head. They were restless, angry, and coming closer… Closer… Crowding him in, there was nowhere to go! He looked into their eyes and saw nothing of the griffons he knew, their eyes were hard and cold, irritated, harsh.
“What do you want from me!” he said, almost desperate, swinging his head back to the elf in front of him when his breath stuck in his throat. It was a physical blow, his whole body responding as dizziness started to claw at his vision. In front of him, so very, very small compared to the others, sat Assan, his whole body bare and covered in diseased flesh, the taint a screaming crescendo now.
“No…” he said, but he couldn’t retreat, he had nowhere to go.
“Shhhh….” the elf said gently as she lifted her arms to touch the griffons next to her, one hand resting on Assan’s neck, the other on the unknown griffon to her left. Something was happening to them, and he looked mesmerised as the taint slowly withdrew, their blighted skin becoming healthy and whole as feathers grew back before his eyes. They lifted their wings, spanning them out to touch those of the griffons next to them.
A slight gasp drew his attention back to the woman, as her previously unblemished hands and face were now marred by patches of black, hardened skin. As the griffons touched those next to them, the healing spread through them, slowly making its way through the pack as the animals kept lifting their wings until they were all touching, all getting healed.
And with every new feather and fresh pink skin, the taint was drawn into the woman in front of him until she shrank before him, her healthy body and muscles decaying before his eyes as she sank in on herself, her hair falling at her feet while the mark of the taint covered her completely.
When it was done, she looked at him sadly, threw her head back, her arms spread slightly, and howled.
—————
Rook softly pushed the door open as he ventured into Davrin’s room. He was right to be mindful as he found him uncomfortably lounging in his seat in front of the fire, fitfully twitching as if he was plagued by a dream. It wasn’t uncommon for wardens to dream fitful dreams, but Davrin hadn’t been the same since they returned from the Cauldron. At first, they thought it was some lingering confusion from the blow that had knocked him out, but the usually pragmatic warden just stayed withdrawn, trapped in his own thoughts.
He was about to retreat when Davrin’s newest carved figure caught his eye. Curiously, he picked it up to have a closer look. It was the figure of an elven woman, her head turned up as if she were basking in the sun, arms slightly spread out, a contented smile on her face. It was uncanny how he had managed to capture so many emotions in a simple piece of wood. He started slightly as the label beneath the figure caught his eye and he picked it up, their conversation from the Cauldron racing through his mind again.
It's okay, he had said. Let it go.
Even more confused than before, he put the figure back next to the slightly smudged label that read “Gloom Howler”.