Here there be dragons - Orianna, Elarris and Stellarum

             Draconic Curses & How to Cure Them

                                                                    RP Orianna, Elarris, & Stellarum

                                                                ————————————————————

Author's note: this is very very long and we had no idea it would be this long. It took about two weeks to write. We recommend taking at least that long to read it. There's a lot of good lore and even better food. 

Orianna unlocks and opens the door to the house, stepping through and standing aside, gesturing for Elarris to follow her in. Still hesitant, the weary human man ducks his head a little as he passes over the threshold. He makes to move towards the stairs but her voice catches him in place.

“Elarris I-… I want to help you. Properly. The person I mentioned who might know about your curse… I could ask her to come here.”

He turns to look at Orianna. It is strange. This young tiefling woman appears to be in the prime of her life, yet sometimes her behaviour and the way she speaks make him wonder just how young she really is. Like now. Her tone is cautious, understandable after what happened on their journey to Zari’s vault when she tried to remove what she insists is a simple curse. A part of Elarris isn’t convinced it is. The other part isn’t ready to jump back into trying to “fix things” just yet. But Orianna’s face is earnest. It is clear she cares. He is just not sure why.

“If you wanted to grab a bit of food from the kitchen,” she continues, “I will meet you there once I put this piece away.” She holds up the triangular brass thing.

Elarris gives a brief smile. Food. He’s been living on and off with Orianna since they journeyed up the insane staircase to spy on elemental beings of immense power… not that long ago. Time is hard to measure in this house. But not long, a few weeks at most. She already knows the hunger that grips him. She will have prepared exactly what he needs. The meats, fresh bread, cheese, pickles and fresh fruit. He enjoys her delicately baked cakes and biscuits but they can’t fill him up in the way he’s needed since the wound.

Sure enough the table is groaning with yellow butter, white cheese, soft bread still warm and dark brown ale, sweet and strong. There are plates of dates and apples, and bowls of dried sausages, sliced cold beef and warm chicken legs gleaming when the light catches their crisp skin. He sits gratefully, pulls out his hunting knife and sets to work.

“A bit of food?” he calls out. “Lady Orianna, I don’t think you how to serve less than a feast.”

“That would be my fathers,” she calls, her voice getting slightly fainter as she ascends the stairs. “Our community is also our family. The tradition has only continued here!”

Elarris hears a distant door creek open, then silence. Not a minute later and the clomping sound of the tiefling’s descent can be heard returning down the flights of stairs. She enters the kitchen, a tomcat draped around her shoulders. He looks down his whiskers at Elarris and for the first time the man feels himself being judged.

“My father enjoys testing out making of local cuisine,” she continues, a little breathless from her haste to return. “‘One of the best ways to better understand a people is through their food.’”

She takes a plate and starts adding to it. The cat’s tail swishes in delight at every piece of meat added.

Elarris wonders if now is a good time to ask about her family. He’s thought about it many times but worried if it was impertinent to probe when he was so quiet himself. But he feels she’s opened the door so he steps inside.

“I don’t know anything about your fathers. How do you mean local cuisine? You’re not from…” his voice trails off. “Well, no-one is from Daring Heights, that’s what I love about the city, but this food you can get on the Sword Coast I think? Not as tasty, mind.”

“O-Oh, yes. I-… I guess I haven’t really spoken much about where we are from.” She settles into her seat. The cat, remarkably, stays where he is. Orianna picks up her knife, takes a slab of butter and spreads it on the still warm loaf, eyes darting up to Elarris’ face every now and then as she speaks.

“My fathers and I are from the desert west of the Sunset Spines. Our people, we live below the sands. The desert is not called the Scorching Badlands for nothing. We have been there for… generations. There are some people still there… not as many as there once were, though. We were not always alone, either. Other Whyts- Houses used to be part of Ashkha. Nine to be exact — until only our House remained. The Whyt of Seba. House of Stars…”

“House of Stars?” Elarris has stopped eating, fascinated by the tiefling’s story. He had no idea anything lived in, on, above or below the Badlands.

“My father, Thaneni, has always had strong, prophetic visions. He Saw himself meeting my father, Rimmon. What he did not expect was having me, let alone coming back to Ashkha.” This time when she says the name of her home, Orianna smiles fondly. “It is a wonderful place. I hope… I hope to one day go back.”

Elarris is puzzled. “So, I’m sorry, is Ashkha the Sunset Spines or a whole other place? There’s something about you that feels… I don’t know… interplaner? Is that a word? I don’t have much experience of other planes myself. You’ve been present for fifty percent of my journeys to other planes. But I’ve picked up a sort of sense of things that is, admittedly, awry sometimes.”

Orianna looks a little uncomfortable at the questions but she has said so much already. She was also enjoying speaking about Ashkha, and she did not want to see Elarris get confused by half answers.

“Ashkha is not the Sunset Spines, no. I…” She hesitates, deciding at the last moment that some things she should not tell him, for now. “I cannot tell you exactly where it is because it could be unsafe for those still there. My life and my father’s life has been threatened by the Primordials before. Such dangers could extend to those hidden elsewhere.”

She touches the necklace draped around her, the blue-white pearls cool beneath her fingers. “As to my perceived aura, to my knowledge I am of this plane. But since becoming the Herald of Stellarum I know I have changed. Become more. The Cosmos is in more than one Plane. I think… the stronger I get the more I am connected to.” Starlight eyes glance up and she shrugs and lets out a little sigh. “I am still understanding most of what all this means. Probably will for the rest of my life…”

Elarris smiles painfully. “I know that feeling. The whole life feeling, I mean. I can’t imagine what being a Herald must feel like. It feels…” his voice trails off. “I guess, terrifying, from where I’m sitting. I don’t mean to pry about Ashkha,” he realises he has asked too much. “I’m not used to places like Daring Heights and I’m leaping from all the boundaries to none and back again while I work it all out. Please tell me if I’m out of line. I’m used to that.”

Her smile is grateful. “I also remember what it was like coming here for the first time, wanting to know as much as possible. It can be quite overwhelming.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, each of them enjoying the food from their plates. Orianna feeds the cat every second or third bite whilst Elarris goes back for a second helping.

“The hunger you have, is it because of the curse?” Orianna asks, trying her best to be gentle in her own curiosity.

Elarris reflects for a moment. “I think so,” he says finally. “I’m not sure if it’s the curse itself, or just that I’m constantly losing blood. I don’t have unnatural hunger like…” he shivers. “Like some. I am a warrior and that’s all I know. I fight for money. I train. The wound drains me. I eat. But then when you tried to heal me I felt something shift inside and I wonder if I have not understood what happened to me. It’s as if there is more than a wound. So perhaps it is also hungry.”

“That is concerning,” Orianna admits, doing her best to keep her worry from her face. “Besides this time, has there been any other where the curse tried to lash out at you or anyone else?”

Elarris shakes his head. “The healing prayers have been mainly symptomatic… staunching the flow. No-one has attempted to go so deep before. The priests and sawbones I’ve consulted have not had your skill or experience and the healing the Twins bestowed on me is a patch up job. The Sword…” he stops. “Well, the Sword is… it’s not linked but it’s linked but it’s not. I don’t know why I mentioned it. In short, no, no-one has tried magic of that power before, and the results have never been so intense before. What was that? Do you know what happened?”

Orianna shakes her head. “I don’t know exactly, but it’s flavour- the essence of it is familiar enough to me that I would ask someone with more knowledge than I have in that particular field.” Orianna finishes her sentence with a final bite of food. The cat on her shoulders finally takes that as its cue to leave her, stepping onto the table. It sits beside her plate, looking down at it expectantly. “Yes, Maurice, you can lick it,” she says and the cat does.

Getting up, Orianna pulls out the kettle and begins to prepare some tea. “The sword,” she starts her back turned as she preps the pot, “you rarely let it go, correct?”

Elarris flinches. “Correct. But it’s more than that. I can’t let it go even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. Watch this.”

He unbuckles his worn leather belt, leaves his weapon on the chair and walks to the other side of the kitchen. He meets Orianna’s eyes, moves his hand forward and suddenly the sword is there, his fingers gripping it tightly.

“I only have to think of it and it is in my hand, thirsty for war. With it I am stronger, hit harder and if I am wounded it…” he pauses, gazing at the unsheathed blade. “It rages and we destroy my assailant. It is not just a sword, it is part of me.”

Orianna holds his gaze for a beat, before inclining her head in understanding. “I begin to see why my simple restoration was not enough.”
She steps closer to Elarris, holding the kettle, but stops in front of the large stone fireplace that serves as heating, oven, and stove top. He sees her thinking, even as she looks away to put the kettle on an iron hook and turn it so it hangs over the fire. Brushing her hands on the long vest over her shirt, Orianna faces him again looking at his body where the wound would be underneath his armour.

“This ailment, curse, compulsion- it is layered, possibly even interwoven to be part of your very soul. Whatever it is, I will help you untangle it, Elarris. Now,” she lightly claps her hands together and steps forward — to Elarris, it brings to mind a school teacher or an academic scholar who is about to begin a most interesting lesson, “are you prepared to speak with the Queen of the Archwyrms?”

Elarris shivers. He struggles to meet Orianna’s eyes for a moment, then raises his head and gives a slightly strained smile.

“Yes, I am… because I trust you. I have told you more than I have told anyone. Please be the person I believe you to be. I have had more than my fair share of disappointment and placing my fate in the hands of dragons has so far not worked out very well for me.”

Her bright expression softens as she holds her hands out towards him. Elarris puts his hands in hers, just as he said he is putting his trust in her. Orianna’s face has grown more serene, an air of seriousness cloaks her whilst the tone of her voice stays soft and genuine.

“I will honour your trust, Elarris. If this meeting with Stellarum does not prove fruitful, or you wish to have things cease at any moment, I will ask her to go.” She gives his hands a slight squeeze. “A guiding star does not stop gifting its light at the first sign of trouble. We will figure this out, together.”

Elarris bows his head. “Thank you Orianna. Hope has returned.”

She gives his hand one more encouraging squeeze and lets go. “There is still plenty of food, should you wish to have more. I will finish making the tea and call for Stellarum.”

Orianna gestures to the table, where the raggedy looking tomcat has creeped closer to the mostly finished plate Elarris left behind. Sensing his gaze, it gives the plate a sniff, sneezes, feigns nonchalance, then leaps from the table.

Elarris follows the cat with his eyes for a few seconds then turns to Orianna. “So… is it fair to say that nothing is as it seems here?”
“Hmm? How do you mean?” she asks over her shoulder. The kettle was just starting to scream and Orianna was pulling the swinging hook towards her. She grabs the kettle and turns, sweeping the room, noticing what’s missing right away.

“Do you mean Maurice?” she asks.

Elarris looks sheepish. “I guess. I thought… but maybe not…”

She smiles. “Maurice is as he seems, though do not underestimate him. He survived the battle of Fort Ettin two years ago for a reason.”

Elarris stirs uneasily at the mention of Fort Ettin. He’s picked up fragments of stories here and there — the veterans of the battle were often reluctant to go into too much detail. He gathered there had been great loss of life and as an old campaigner who had lost many true friends he knew when to stop asking. But as far as he could tell it involved a mass attack by dragons. As a child, he was told stories of dragons as beasts of legend. The Twins changed that. And now, here, dragons seemed as much a part of the fabric of life as a hurricane or mighty storm. And he is about to meet one. He struggles to process the excess of context — good, bad, warring, defending, death, life… he wonders what the truth of dragons might be.

He decides this is for a later conversation. Dualities are hard enough to handle, quadralities make his head spin. He smiles at Orianna.
“Perhaps they do have nine lives…”

Orianna returns his smile before turning back to finishing making the tea. Once it is set on the table and she clears away the empty plates before briefly leaving the room to get her staff.

Elarris sits alone in the kitchen with its large window facing north. Normally, this would mean the room does not get as much light as the front room. However, at this time of day the sun’s light is being reflected off the homes on the other side of the quiet courtyard making the copper pots and glassware sparkle and shine. The moment Orianna comes back into the room with her staff, the light dims down low, as if it is being absorbed by the star-cut gem at its top. She carefully places her staff against the window, catching a particularly brilliant beam of reflected sunlight. Once certain it would not fall, she stands in front of it, and closes her eyes. Elarris watches her intently, curious to know how she plans on calling a dragon into their midst. From her side, she unhooks a crystal disc and holds it up towards the shimmering staff.

“O Mother of Starlight, hear me. I call upon you, requesting your aid in helping a soul overshadowed by a curse. We would seek your knowledge, for you who embrace all of Creation could surely help us.”

Orianna speaks this call for assistance in an ancient Draconic dialect. There is a brief pause, Elarris holding his breath, Orianna standing with the crystal in her hands. Then there is a reply.

“I am on my way.”

Not a moment after they hear the final word, the foci begins to glow from within as it absorbs the sun’s light filtering through her staff. The glow grows brighter until it is almost as if Orianna holds in her hands a small flat version of the moon. Once this light is at its brightest, it starts to pull itself away from the crystal gathering together and forming into a multitude of small starlike motes of light that gently move around the kitchen, peacefully dancing in the rainbows of colour painted on the walls by the reflected sunlight. Slowly the motes of light begin to coalesce into a rough humanoid shape, aligning like those used to draw constellations. Their patterns make a figure and any gaps between the motes are filled with light until it is a solid shape. As the last line connects, the light begins to dim and fade away, leaving behind a lady that Orianna is very familiar with and who Elarris does not recognise at all.

The woman reaches out and embraces Orianna almost immediately. There’s a sigh from the young tiefling, one of relief, like any worries or cares she had been carrying have faded away. After they break from their embrace, the woman takes a few steps back and turns towards Elarris. Her eyes seem to almost scan him though her face and body language does not show any sign of reaction to whatever she is seeing. When her warm eyes return to his face she bows towards him.

“I am Stellarum Tenebris, The Starlight Dragon, The Star Mother, The Night Keeper and The Wyrm Queen. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance on this fine day. I offer you my services for hopefully overcoming what it is that ails you, if it is within my power to do so.”
Her voice matches the demeanour of her person perfectly. Part of Elarris wants to relax into the comfort of hearing her speak. The other part firmly does not.

“Please, tell me about this curse,” the woman continues. “What does it do and where does it originate from?” She gestures to the table, indicating for both of them to sit down with her.

Elarris bows low — partly because it seems the right thing to do, partly to stop himself from falling to his knees, and partly to buy a few seconds to think. He can feel a tiny mote of disappointment in his soul — his unexpressed wish that perhaps he would be meeting the Beautiful Twin who blessed him with the healing wings floats into a dream. This kindly, majestic face regarding him gravely carries a different power.

He straightens up, but doesn’t yet feel it is appropriate to sit. “I am Elarris de l’Etan, one time knight of…” his voice trails away. “In truth whatever titles my blood laid claim to I have long dishonoured.”

He realises his hand is gripping the hilt of the sword as if demons were trying to snatch it away and the wound aches with a dull throb.

“The Lady Orianna, in her grace, has tried to help me with a wound I sustained some years ago after I was tasked by the Twins… two dragons whose names I didn’t catch… to retrieve an artefact from the horde of a long dead dragon. Or perhaps not so long dead. Anyway, when I found the horde, in the castle of a kindly king and his beautiful daughters, I thought the task easy. As soon as I laid hands on the object they craved, the king — or something in his form — walked in with his daughters now squirming, writhing tentacled things that still held the form of the daughter’s faces. I was terrified. Under the king’s roof I had laid my arms in his guardhouse but I saw a weapon that… that sang to me, I can only say. I reached for the blade and struck out at whatever it was that approached me. As the steel sank home, my own flesh was torn and has remained so to this day.”

He pauses, swallows, his throat dry. “The Twins blessed me with healing magic and since then new parts of my mind keep awakening, granting me powers I thought the preserve of wizards. These powers were unlooked for. I was a noble families brat, not a questing spellsword. So I am changed, I have no home and my wound torments me through my waking hours. The Lady Orianna, may she be honoured, tried powerful healing magic and awoke something dark and, my Lady of Starlight, Mother whose eyes shine with wisdom, I know nothing more. I don’t understand. I just travel, onwards, always, escaping pain and seeking peace.”

His legs finally gave way and he slumped in a chair, fearful to meet both of their eyes.

“But the Sword is ever my protector and companion and without it I would be long dead,” Elarris adds, his voice extremely quiet.

Orianna takes a small step towards Elarris, her hand reaching out but she holds herself back, not wanting to overcrowd him. Instead, she keeps her eyes on his weary face but speaks to Stellarum.

“The healing I tried was a greater restorative, one that requires diamond dust. When I felt the magic attempt to sink in it was like-… like the wound itself… squirmed. It did not like my interference. Then it lashed out at Elarris.”

He begins to look up, and Orianna feels embarrassed once again for how her attempt to help him did just the opposite. She turns to look at the Wyrm Queen, eyes bright with fresh worry, her cheeks flushed. “I have not seen a reaction like that before. I remember reading once, in the Grand Archive, of certain magical effects and curses that can draw their power from strong enough sources. This one’,” she gestures to Elarris, “feels draconic.”

Stellarum raises an eyebrow, having listened intently to the two explain what they could. “It is not uncommon for the items in the hoard of a dragon to become stained, shall we say, with a very small fleck of the dragon’s soul,” she starts. “The longer an item dwells within the hoard and the dragon remains to guard it, the power of that fleck intensifies, blossoming into something much more potent. Depending on the nature of the dragon, it will either transform into a positive attribute to the item giving it a magical property that might bolster another who touches it… Or, as I fear has happened here, it blossoms into a curse that debilitates and weakens those who touch and use the item.”

Stellarum gently offers her hands towards Elarris. “May I take a look at your sword, please.”

Elarris hears a screaming in his head, almost like a tiny child as dark thugs seek to kidnap it from its mother.

“Do no not worry, you may still keep hold of the sword,” Stellarum assures him. “I simply need you to place it in my hands.”

His hand clenches so firmly on the hilt that his muscles go into rictus and he feels paralysed by fear and pain.

“I should be able to read the magic of the sword and potentially this curse,” she continues, seemingly unaware of the war raging within him. “Then we can look at this scar of yours.”

She smiles at Elarris and waits for him to place the sword in her hands.

He closes his eyes, opens them and gazes deep into Stellarum’s smiling eyes. He can hear notes as sweet as if the stars were singing and his shoulders ease back. He stands, draws the sword and for a fraction of a second seems unsure.

Then he lays the sword on the table, his fingers still grazing the pommel but his hands loose and his stance relaxed.

“My lady…” he bows his head.

Stellarum bows her head in response and gives Elarris a very grateful look. Her attention then turns to the sword on the table. Her eyes and hands pass over the sword studying it but never actually touching it. Orianna comes a little closer to Elarris, letting her presence do what it can to reassure him, even as her tail swishes belying her concern.

“Hmm…” Stellarum intones. “A beautiful and elegant design, it almost reminds me of a sword crafted by one of my fellow Archwyrms. This is a little simpler than the ones she normally makes. Yet, I wonder if…” Stellarum reaches down and takes the sword into her hands.
Lifting the sword into the air, Stellarum studies it closely. Orianna and Elarris see her eyes glowing softly, indicating a type of vision that can see more than the mundane. She passes her hands over the grip and crossguard, fingers tracing along the chappe, the fuller, coming close to the edge as if reading braille.

It is as she touches the edge of the blade that something happens. The normal metal grey steel darkens quickly and suddenly to a pitch black. Unexpected cracks split its length and small tendrils of darkness slither their way out of sword. The ambient light of the sun recedes quickly from the kitchen as if pushed out by the darkness emanating from the sword. The atmosphere grows cold and damp, like the room has never known heat or life or light, ever. Then the three begin to hear an unnatural, low wailing sound, like wind through tombstones or stale air circulating through caves — and it is coming from the sword.

Stellarum quickly lets the weapon go. It twists in the air travelling faster then it should to land tip down, piercing the thick wooden table. The moment the sword lands, the wood begins to rot and decay, the howling getting louder and louder. Stellarum jumps back and Orianna does the same, pulling Elarris along with her. Then Wyrm Queen raises one hand and utters a spell in Draconic.

A beam of starlight rushes from her hand, connecting with the sword and enveloping it in a shining radiance. Slowly, within this light the tendrils of darkness recede back into the blade, the rot and decay slowing and then stopping. The cracks begin to seal themselves, filling their gaps with the light of Stellarum’s spell. As the last one is filled, and the final tendril retreats, the beam of light stops and the sword appears to have returned to normal. There’s a beat of stunned silence as all three feel sunlight and warmth creep back in like a child tentatively returning home after a sudden, brutal departure. All eyes warily stare at the longsword lodged halfway into and in the centre of Orianna’s kitchen table.

Orianna is the one to break the silence. “Star Mother,” she starts. That’s when she sees the expression of pure fear on the Wyrm Queen’s face. “Star Mother!” She rushes to Stellarum’s side. “Are you alright? What-” She looks back to Elarris then the sword. “What was that?”

Stellarum stares at the sword for a moment before composing herself again. Only after she has done that does she look towards Orianna and Elarris.

“You were right, Orianna. This is Draconic in origin, but it is far worse than you first thought.” It might have been his imagination but Elarris swears he sees her shudder. “I know the dragon that cursed this sword. It was a vile and twisted creature, known as Malfenian, the Abhorrent. A black dragon that even the rest of his kind considered vicious and cruel. He was obsessed with all manner of dark and forbidden magic. He collected them, hoarding them away, and he would unleash them on anyone foolish enough to enter his lair. But such magics take as much as they give, and the price Malfenian paid was the very essence of his being.”

Her gaze is heavy as she looks at them. “He was transformed by the darker forces of reality into an abomination of nature. Even the Dark Queen Tiamat turned her back on him for he was no longer part of her brood with what he had become.

“To my knowledge he is dead now. His lair was far, far to the east of here. Once the people of that land discovered that such a monstrosity was on their doorstep they summoned one hundred of the greatest heroes they could find, and after one hundred days of fighting the abomination it was slain. The black magic found in his lair was scattered across Planes. All other items and treasures were said to have been buried in the lair when it was destroyed.”

Elarris feels more than sees Orianna’s gaze on him. But he cannot look at her, so enraptured by the tale Stellarum tells is he to even acknowledge it.

“However it would appear not to be completely true,” Stellarum says with a gesture. “This sword came from his lair and I would suspect that a powerful creature such as the one Malfenian became would no longer play by the same rules as the rest of us. Death would simply be an inconvenience rather than anything permanent.”

Stellarum shifts her gaze to look directly at Elarris. “I would like to say for certain but I would hazard a guess that this King you spoke of was Malfenian in a new form and the sword would have never allowed you to harm its creator.”

Elarris reels back as if her words were savage slaps to his face.

His breathing is fast and hard and his eyes dart between Orianna, Stellarum and the sword. “I don’t… what? This makes no sense. Does that mean...?” he clutches his gut where the wound still oozes its drip-drip of gore. “Does this mean I have him inside me?”

His eyes darken. “The sword… my sword… What is happening? I cannot live without its protection, I would have died a thousand times.” The words sound flat, hollow, like the echoes of a wind through the tombstones.

He turns to Orianna. “Help me… What is this? Why is this happening?”

Then he looks at Stellarum and whispers painfully. “I cannot let the sword go. I need it… Oh, I am fortune’s fool and the gods have prepared a special hell for me. Whatever sins I committed to bring this upon me must be dark acts indeed. A human soul is a feeble thing, and mine is powerless against this darkness. So help me, I still need the sword.”

His fingers twitch helplessly and his voice rasps in his throat. “Lady Starlight, if you cannot save me, it would be better to kill me because I cannot let it go.”

“No.” The commanding presence in one simple word is powerful. Orianna’s hands suddenly hold the sides of his face, lifting his gaze so he has to look at her. “There is still hope, Elarris. There is still light.”

A warmth from her palms seeps into his skin. The part of his mind that would feel fear is caressed, soothed with the softest brush of an owl’s downy feathers. It carries deeper on a gentle breeze, the lift of a wing. There is starlight too, and it is reflected in big, all-seeing eyes that shine violet as they hold him.

“No one soul is lesser than another. Yours may be weighed down by heavy chains of malic and darkness, but your heart’s light is true.” Her eyes roam over his face, catching on his flaring nostrils, his twisted and sweating brow, the thin, pale line that his mouth has formed. “You are not alone in this.”

Elarris looks into Orianna’s eyes and where he had expected to see fear, loathing and distrust, he is amazed to find care and hope. He had been terrified that the darkness within him would repel her, but he sees no difference in the way she regards him — he remains a welcome guest in her home, even after the violence of Stellarum’s battle with sword.

He is speechless, floored by such kindness and compassion, and knows in that second that his duty is clear — whatever the war he fights within himself, his purpose is to keep her safe, and to serve her kind heart until she sends him away.

He cannot find the words to say this, so he bows his head and whispers.

“My lady Orianna…”

Some of the tension leaves her as she sees him come to a more peaceful stillness. She lets her hands fall from his face, keeping one on his shoulder as she turns to face Stellarum again, staying beside Elarris.

“It seems to me that there are layers to this curse that binds, Elarris, no?” she asks.

Stellarum nods her head in agreement, “This curse is old and it is powerful. Its roots are deep but it is not unbreakable. There will be a way to rid this corruption from you and the world.” Stellarum looks at Elarris determined, steadfast and resolute.

“Unfortunately it is not by my power that this curse will be broken,” Stellarum continues, inclining her head a little. “You require a stronger bastion of light than I can provide. My fellow Archwyrm, Eroshira, The Sunstone Dragon, is the light of the dawn made manifest, a radiance that can banish away any darkness. She should be able to help burn away this evil.”

“Where is she?” Elarris asks. “How can I find her?”

“She is currently among the stars, I’m afraid, a place that will prove incredibly difficult and time consuming for you to get to. Fortunately, I know of somewhere that can summon her to you. Travel to the Plane of Bytopia and travel to the ruins of Eroshira’s temple.”

Stellarum reaches into her plum coloured dress and pulls out a small round piece of sunstone, golden in colour and shining in the midday sunlight. “There will be a pedestal. Place this on there and call for her. She will come.”

Elarris looks uncertainly at Orianna who is staring intently at Stellarum. Confused and uncertain about what that could mean, he looks back to the Wyrm Queen trying to focus on his own answers. Reaching his hand out towards the sunstone, a passing thought, worrisome as it is troubling, comes to him: What if the dark curse surrounding him flares into action again as he touches the golden dial?

As Elarris takes the piece from Stellarum, a sense of peace washes over him like standing on top of a hill watching the sun rise on a glorious day. He swears he can almost feel the constant pain from the wound on his stomach fade ever so slightly, like the curse has been pushed back a little bit. Elarris steps back, surprised, and looks hard at the sunstone then at Stellarum.

“The Plane of Bytopia,” he says, glancing at Orianna, who looks at him and nods. “Is… I mean… how would I get there? I’m very grateful, I just… I’m in over my head here. Before I arrived in Daring Heights I thought other planes of existence were like thought experiments. Now I’ve been to three. But I have literally no idea how I got there.”

He pauses. “But I’ll go…”

“Do not worry, planar travel is an incredibly common occurrence in these parts and is relatively easy to accomplish. I’m sure that Orianna or any of the other Heralds will be more than happy to help get you to Bytopia.” Stellarum gives a small nod to Orianna.

“That I will,” Orianna says, nodding to Stellarum. Then she looks at Elarris. “Remember what I said about guiding stars. We will overcome this together.”

Elarris meets her eyes and can find no words. He lowers his head, takes a deep breath and tries to focus on keeping the tear in his eye from rolling down his cheek.

“I wish you the best of luck in this endeavour,” Stellarums says, drawing their attention back towards her. She looks at Elarris and adds, “Make sure to present the sword to Eroshira. I think she will be very excited to see it again.”

Elarris bows low. “Thank you, Lady Starlight. You give me hope for the first time in many years.”