“Nivara! Please, wake up!”

She could hear the voice, powerful and strong yet tinged with worry. Her clouded mind recognised the pull of the commanding Trait but the lull of sleep was too great. She could hear the rain pelting down, feel the chill of her wet cloak constricting her as it shifted around her body, changing from numbing cold to a low thrum of heat.

“Oh Hells teeth, this is all my fault. Come on, Nivara. I need you to stay alive.”

The rustling of movement was all she could hear above the voice, her cloak no longer constricting but embracing, almost calming the frost searing against her skin. Slowly the haze of sleep began to lift, the orders for her to awaken throbbing in her mind as the web of endless heat caused her to move ever so slowly.

“Kaldra?” she said, raspy from the effort as she called for her companion.

Nivara opened her eyes a fraction to find she was surrounded by a sea of white light. She reached out to touch it, it shifted a little, bristling at the sudden sensation before moving upwards like a velvet curtain. A large scaly head wrought with worry, poked her midsection as the dragon she had been hoping for was nowhere to be seen. Her heart plummeted just as nerves attacked her system, causing her to breathe out in short, sharp gasps.

“No, no. It’s OK, it’s OK. It’s just me. It’s Ethros, remember?”

Nivara shook her head, tugging at her hood which was thankfully still intact as she tried to shield herself from the sight of such a revelation. It was not her dragon. It was Lady Aria’s.

“Are-are you gonna eat me?” she burst out at last, her eyes clamped shut beneath the dampness of her mask.

Ethros’ worry soon turned to laughter as he tried to muffle his surprise with his claw, knowing full well of the discussion she was talking about. The worry lines began to fade as he slowly allowed Nivara out of his embrace despite her struggling against the warmth of his scales.

“No, Nivara. I won’t eat you.”

She shuffled uncomfortably, her face now red with embarrassment, her expression marred by too many emotions to comprehend. She sat with a dragon that was not her own, a blisteringly white beacon of hope against a stormy backdrop of destruction as if nothing at all was wrong. Nivara lay within the ruins of the partially destroyed courtyard, the main structure of the walls jutting out like fragments of bone and singed stone.

“Why did you save me?” she said at last, not daring to meet his gaze.

Nivara tried to move away from him but it was no use. She was drained of energy only just supported by the strong, scaly back of her Throneholder. She was now incapable of standing, surrounded by a large wingspan blocking any chances of moving. Not that she was complaining.

“I wanted to.” Ethros said simply, resting his head near his wing to meet her gaze.

“Why? You said-” Nivara began as the dragon shook his head, feeling the need to interrupt her before she had even started.

“It doesn’t matter what I said before. You’re alive and that’s what matters.” he said firmly, reminding Nivara of a no nonsense healer.

But she stood her ground, adamant about finding out whatever she could. She needed something, anything to start a conversation. If she had something to cling to, to keep going so all of her battles would’ve been worth it. Ethros’ expression was a lot kinder than she had ever seen him, his golden eyes no longer piercingly cold but curious and patient. Perhaps, she should at least try to get through to him.

“No. That’s not good enough. I need to know.”

The dragon was taken aback, his eyes wide with shock at the sudden demand as if he himself had his own Tarragon used against him. His head lowered slightly, dejected at being denied avoiding the topic he wasn’t sure she would accept. But her tone was non negotiable, a mirror image of the stone faced glare he had given her only a few hours ago.

“Why?” he said quietly, no longer relying on his stern leader act to get himself heard.

Nivara gasped, that one word which took the breath out from under her was something she never expected from the stronghold of Opalis. He sounded timid, melancholic. As if he had already lost hope at arguing with her. She hid her surprise under her mask as always and cleared her throat, the venomous anger and frustration still pricking at the forefront of her mind. Rubbing her temples, she let out breath of hot air, shivering against the storm despite still being wrapped within the dragons emanating glow.

“You told me I was untrustworthy yet here you are rescuing me from a storm in the middle of the night. How is that anything but suspicious?”

The dragon grumbled, pondering her words for a moment before letting out a huge sigh, big enough to buffet the rain in the other direction. Nivara clutched her hood tightly, before lying back against his large frame, Ethros’ tail deciding to snake around her limply.

“You have a right to be wary of me. I put you in danger against two very powerful Traited. But I need to know what happened to you before I can tell you anything else. Please.”

Nivara couldn’t deny how carefully he chose his words. Dragons certainly knew how to hide their intentions. She swallowed, tasting the honey like potion she had taken mere hours before as a precaution to his very Trait. Most dragons had a hint of Predictor Trait within them, a way to detect lies no matter how small. Those Oathed who banded together under such a technique were known as Truthseekers, an apt name considering how they had caused the very skill the dragons possessed to become their own.

The Truthseeker potion compelled the taker to tell nothing but the truth without needing the assistance of a dragon. However, this potion came at a price. With every positive action there was an opposite reaction. When truths could be revealed there was also a potion of concealment, allowing the user to lie however they wished.

The Silvertongue Potion.

It was this very vial that Nivara had taken out of her grimoire hours before and willingly drank for such a situation. The Silvertongue potion had been made from the extracts of honesty and used against the golden elixir of the Truthseeker potion. Neither cancelled out the other entirely but mixing truth with lies is what was needed to be done to stop the Lockbind until the time came to face Kamikaze in combat once again. Not a moment before.

That very idea clung to the forefront of Nivara’s mind as she organised her thoughts, feigning fatigue as she did so. She had to give Ethros enough info to seem believable while keeping within the constraints of the Lockbind. Kamikaze had no choice but to keep her word. Now she had to do the same.

“I don’t know who they are. I don’t know what they wanted but..I know they mentioned you.” she began, hesitantly.

Nivara’s voice was quiet, unsure as she put as much attention to her body language and tone as possible. Her Trait began to sift away from her fingers, causing a small stream of indigo mist to envelop them. Small flashes of her own memories began to appear, mixed with the haze of her exhaustion as if she herself was being submerged by her own mist of confusion.

“There were two intruders. A Tarragon and a Lightning Traited. They tried to kidnap me and I used up almost all of my Trait to fight them off.”

Ethros hid his surprise well, continuing to coax the Mist Maiden to continue. Nivara looked away, ashamed at how pitiful she acted, watching as she was willingly led into the basement, nothing but the green eyed gaze piercing her memories before flitting to her eventual battle with a Trait crazed maniac and back again.

“They’re wearing Excelliar armour. Stolen from one of the guards most likely. Doesn’t fit them too well but it seems their Trait made up for that.” he said, watching the events unfold via the mist screen now focusing on the imposters back.

Nivara could feel Ethros’ probing gaze, intentional or otherwise as her mist reacted to her sudden jolt of fear, showing how the intruder had easily entered, their face concealed by blurs of misplaced gaps in memory as it merged with their overwhelming Trait.

“Do you remember any definitive features? Any clan markings at all?” Ethros said cautiously to Nivara, not wanting to upset her so suddenly.

She nodded slowly, the mists changing slightly to more of an analytical style, one which suited the mind of a Regent instead of someone who had just been attacked and traumatised. The dragon growled low at the sight of the green compulsion Trait being used in such a way. He may not have heard what was said but he knew threats when he saw it.

“There. On his neck. It’s sigil of a Mediator but much darker. I’m pretty sure he was a rogue.” Nivara said, trying to draw suspicion away from her.

The mists honed in on the scruffiness of the armour despite the green tinge clouding Nivara’s perception. The Tarragons’ neck showed a seared sigil, still glowing green thanks to the presence of Trait. It was a dead giveaway that the Mist Maiden’s actions up to this point were not of her own mind.

“I see. They haven’t been active very recently these Wolves of the Fallen.” he said, scoffing at the clan name they had chosen, his claws curling in annoyance.

Nivara gave him a wary smile, attempting to focus on her mist as she awaited his directions. She’d had a hunch that she’d be interrogated before returning to her quarters for the night and despite the events leading up to it she was glad she had the foresight to prepare for it. Ethros may have meant well but with any dragon, it paid to be wary of every possible outcome. Using a Silvertongue was the only way to be sure.

“It’s a shame you can’t remember their faces but it can’t be helped. What of their Trait? You did manage to fight them off, didn’t you?” Ethros asked, now fully invested in what she had to say.

“I did fight him, yes.” Nivara said, not realising her mistake until the damage had already been done.

Ethros raised an eyebrow.

“Him?”

Nivara nodded foolishly, gritting her teeth as a wave of pain caused her mist to warp into a lanky looking boy with blond hair, disappearing as quickly as it came like ripples in a stream. The dragons beady eyes closed in on her shaking hands, his Regent now leaning heavily against his back as she fought against the sudden pain, her eyes tinged with amber.

“Nivara? Nivara, what’s wrong?” Ethros said, suspicion turning to worry once again.

She wheezed in pain, clutching her head in agony as her Everchange cloak did its best to conceal the damage. Even saying ‘him’ had caused her grimoire to burn with the wrath of an angry Fire Traited. What would happen if she actually said their names? Groaning in frustration she attempted to use her new found information to her advantage as the mist began to swirl, following her train of thought.

“Yes, I remember now. He was a Fire Traited…” she muttered weakly, leaning a hand against Ethros’ shoulder.

She hoisted herself upwards into a sitting position, half tempted to let her feet dangle out into the rainstorm as they continued to take shelter in the skewed archways of the broken Opalis. The arkalite stone had begun to repair itself under the glow of a Light Traited dragon but progress was slow due to the numbing chill of the storm shrouding the Divide from view.

“He was a Bewitcher Trait most likely. A fitting match to have fire which draws people in and confuses the mind alongside a power which forces them to do so. No wonder you had trouble.” Ethros said, attempting to distract her while focusing on the task at hand.

“I can’t even remember his face but...those flames. I can’t get them out of my mind.” Nivara said, shutting her eyes despite the fact Ethros’ could not see her.

“Do you think it was an effect of his Trait?” he said, resting his snout near her leg in a vain attempt to comfort her.

Nivara suddenly jerked away from his touch, still unsteady from her bout of dizziness. Ethros meant well with his friendly affection but substituting her for Aria was not a good idea for an Oathed dragon. Especially when she was supposed to be his Regent.

Many a misunderstanding had occurred with both Traited and dragon alike when it came to others showing interest in the opposite pair. She didn’t want rumours to start, nor did she want to be the one to remind him of that. The memory of his fury still plagued her mind, this time bathed in the green flames that she now associated with those from Tarragon.

“I don’t know...but it was powerful.” Nivara said, still shaken up by the burst of pain erupting from her grimoire.

She knew the likelihood of it happening again was high but she couldn’t help but jump with every word that came out of her mouth. The Lockbind was a terrifying thing but she knew of worse fates that could happen, especially when it came to grimoires.

“So, what happened next?” Ethros said, causing Nivara to blink at the casual tone before taking the time to answer.

“...the Tarragon lured me into some kind of basement with bottles of Trait. I managed to use it to try and escape but then his accomplice arrived.”

“Accomplice?” Ethros said, pressing her further.

“The Lightning Traited. She-”

Nivara held back a scream, the burning sensation wreaking havoc on her mist as the memories she was trying so hard to alter burst into view once more. A flurry of white and gold mist surrounded them before being blotted out by endless bursts of electricity much like a trident slamming against skin.

“Nivara! Stay with me!” Ethros called out, attempting to fight against the mist.

Slumped onto the cold, damp stone Nivara cried out in pain, an angry roar of anguish scattering the mist. It clamped down towards its master who was fighting to let the pain slowly ebb away so she could finish this quickly. One more attack like that and she’d be done for.

“Nivara, please….you need to rest.” Ethros insisted, proving her his weight to lean against.

“No!”

Through ragged breaths she keeled over onto her knees, fighting the urge to vomit as she clung to the dust ridden ground, desperate to hold on to whatever ounce of power the small potion still had within her system. It was said to last at least three days but with Nivara she could barely manage to have it last for one. Perhaps it was the nature of her Trait, or even her grimoire itself but she needed to keep going. She needed to prove she was worthy.

“No, please. I need to...I need to see this through to the end.” she begged, grabbing at his scales.

She struggled to find her grip, her legs flailing as she attempted to stand despite the pain. The rain soaked floor did nothing for her lacklustre movements, sending her slipping and sliding against the dragon she didn’t want to see, let alone talk to about such a terrifying event. He was responsible. All he wanted to do was atone for his actions. Just like her.

“If I don’t, I-I’m afraid I might forget it. I need to do this. It’s in my head, I just can’t, can’t get it out right.” she pleaded, clutching her side as if she had been shot.

Ethros nodded solemnly, not wanting to say a word as he lowered his neck to her. Nivara scrambled along the ridges of his back still drenched in mud but eventually the strength of his efforts provided her with the willpower to shimmy along to get aid. Despite her grievances with him, Nivara knew she needed help and if she had to receive it from the very dragon she had sworn to protect, the very one who had refused to listen then so be it.

“Sh-she blasted the door off and rescued the Tarragon before doubling back to deal with me.” she said, straining as another bout of pain tore through her Traits defenses.

With an angry snarl her grimoire flew open, sending mist pouring through the courtyard, the storm a perfect backdrop as her Trait showed her determination when facing her enemy. Ethros could not look away, transfixed by the interchanging events as lightning flashed ever closer on the horizon, mirroring her Trait with eerie amounts of accuracy.

“She was...angry. Angry he had called her, so she took it out on me.”

Nivara’s mist became erratic alongside her movements, ignoring the stabs of lightning from her grimoire as she grunted to allow the pain to pass. It was working. After the beating she had received from the Wardog of Thundreign this was nothing compared to being struck with the Recaller Trident.

“How did you escape?” Ethros said, daring not to breathe in case he disturbed either her concentration or the fragility of the mist.

It clung on, thread by thread like a spider's web around the supporting walls, allowing it to be blown and buffeted about by the changing winds. It was an ingenious strategy if only her Trait was in better shape.

“I didn’t.” she said, at last.

Nivara let out long, deep breaths, stifling the trickle of mist as she clung to his back in vain of her previous attempts to shy him away. Rumours be damned. She needed something to hold onto. Something to remind her she was still there.

“I...I was dragged out and we fought in the main hall after I found the throne room was empty and tried to threaten the unconscious Tarragon as a way to get them to leave.”

The Light dragon couldn’t help but be drawn into the conversation, briefly noticing how quickly she was going through the events still fresh in her mind as if nothing was wrong. Another gasp of heart wrenching agony was enough for the Throneholder to realise all was still not well. The rapid pace must’ve been to help stunt the pain and get things over with. He had to keep going, as much as he hated it. He had to know.

“Threatened? As in used your mist to trap him?” he continued, watching every moment pass like it was an eternity.

“I had no other choice, Ethros! She was too powerful because of the storm she conjured and I was all out of options.” Nivara said, trying to convince him.

The Trait soared upwards at the sudden spike of anger, this time making full use of the storm behind it as it showed it being twice as strong as anything he had ever seen. An exaggeration but a necessary one. Ethros’ eyes widened at the sheer magnitude at such a vast amount of Lightning Trait. Every scale seemed to stand on end at the sight of such a destructive force. All to best just one person.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. I understand. Just...keep going.”

Nivara nodded, hands shaking as she took slow steady breaths in and out, steeling herself for what was about to be revealed. In a spur of madness she put all of her weight against Ethros and hoisted herself up, the cracking of her aching limbs proving to be her limit as she rode the next wave of pain as best she could. Holding her breath she hobbled over to the nearest wall, Ethros shadowing her in silence in case she fell.

“I…”

She cried out in agony as she let herself breathe again, the jolts of convulsions spiking all over her nerves like endless papercuts as she spasmed against the wall, slumping against it in a desperate attempt to quell the flames of rage burning across her skin. Nivara wouldn’t be surprised if she was feverish, breaking into a cold sweat with every lagging movement.

“Nivara?” Ethros said, his voice barely a whisper.

She took a breath and let it out slowly, steeling herself for what came next.

“I did the only thing I could think of. I  used an empty Trait vial to trap some of her lightning.”

Time stood still. The rushing droplets of rain had been silenced by a dark, ominous sound. A growl so loud that it shook the earth below as if giving way to the hellish bowels of the demon realm. Ethros bristled with anger, flashes of light veering across his scales like veins of Trait searing through the very stone they lay on, smoking like the great fires produced by his dragonic brethren.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” He said, deathly quiet.

He was no longer beside Nivara but circling her, eyes narrowed in annoyance. The quiet fury emanating from the dragon was enough to make any longstanding Captain turn and run. But she could not. Her mist wound its way around Ethros in an instant, who swatted it with his tail as it scattered into streams of Trait, barely able to reform. Nivara’s breath hitched, all her preparing and planning gone as soon as he saw what she had done to defend herself.

“What if you had gotten hurt? What would we have done, what would I have done without a Traited to keep Opalis safe? I am only one dragon of thousands, millions perhaps yet you saw fit to put yourself in danger despite all of that?”

Nivara grit her teeth, pain turning to frustration as she tried to ignore the selfishness of his words. He only cared about himself and what he would do. He wasn’t even there when she needed him. He knew nothing of sacrifice, he talked of being hurt and in pain when she was the one who felt it with every breath of her lungs. She HAD gotten hurt. But she would do it again in a heartbeat.

“I’d already put up with enough of her storm. I needed to get them to leave. No matter what.”

Nivara winced as Ethros let out a beastly snarl, turning his back to her stubbornness.

“I take it you used the bottled lightning as a bargaining tactic?” he said purposefully condescending.

He knew damn well. The lightning flashed as Nivara fought the urge to scream, her annoyance towards the conversation with every swell of the storm thunderously belting its way down in sheets of rain and hail.

“Not necessarily.”

Ethros snorted in discontempt at her attempt to avoid the question, her sly, curt tone causing him to hold back his anger at her disregard for her own life. Nivara fought to hold down the storm in her heart, biting down her anger as she attempted to stick to what she knew despite the leering gaze of an unimpressed Throneholder.

“The storm had stopped giving her power so I managed to trap her with the mist, right in the path of the bottled lightning.” she snapped, attempting to rise to his level before realising what she had said.

Ethros stood there, clamped in place as he began to register what she had just said, his eyes no longer narrow slits of fury but wide with unimaginable terror. There was no remorse in her voice. Just cold, hard, fact. She had intentionally put herself in danger to enact a suicide mission which had the potential to kill everyone involved.

“Ethros?” Nivara said softly, attempting to replicate his kindness.

He was frozen in place, unable to comprehend that Nivara, the last Mist Maiden, the very woman who had pleaded with him to change his mind, the one he had stayed with for hours to keep her warm through such a treacherous storm had played a willing part in an attempted murder. Self defence or not, he couldn't help but see the blurred faces of those she had tried to wipe out from this world. Their eyes, reflecting his own.

“I- I can’t…”

Ethros’ shadow cast over her before it flitted away into the night, the lone dragon heading out into the storm into the rush of spray from the torrential rain. Nivara sat against the damp stone, cloak whipping in all directions as she struggled to stay calm. Letting out a few strangled sobs she cried into the night, the storm howling alongside her anguish. Only it showed the extent of her pain.

The lull of sleep called to her once again as the name on her lips was initially the dragon she had desired but no longer held the weight in heart which was now heavy with dread. She slumped against the cool stone just like before, no longer regretting her sorrow for not speaking up at the meeting.

She should never have been given a voice at all.