Istyher scrambles backward as the blight’s vine cracks through the air like thunder, the impact sending them sprawling into the mud. Pain flares across their body where the strike landed, but relief floods through them as the writhing appendage fails to take hold. They kick free and roll away, mud coating their clothes and gear.
Meanwhile, deeper in the jungle, Astrid yanks her blade from where it fell and wipes sweat from her brow. The captain stands beside her, still shaky from his latest brush with death. Neither of them hears the distant sounds of combat—the thick canopy and vegetation swallow every sound beyond a few feet. Nesquo joins them as they move back into the twisted wreckage of the airship. Shattered crates litter the ground, their contents scattered and trampled into the wet sand. When they realize the rest of their companions are nowhere in the debris, they follow the obvious trail of footprints churned into the mud.
Back at the blight encounter, Gandalf’s fingers trace arcane patterns in the air. Three shimmering Magic Missiles streak toward the creature, slamming into its twisted bark-like hide. An arrow follows immediately after, piercing deep between the plates of hardened wood. The blight shudders and collapses, its vines falling limp. Its companion retreats into the darkness of the jungle, vanishing among the dense vegetation.
The reunited party gathers around the steel dragon, whose metallic scales gleam even in the filtered jungle light. The creature stands as tall as a pony. Gandalf, Three, and Canaloa lean in as Fornax speaks in the rumbling, musical language of dragons. The wyrm expresses deep gratitude for its rescue.
“As reward for vanquishing the blights,” Fornax declares, “I share this knowledge: one day’s journey to the southwest lies an abandoned settlement—a ruin of the old world. Tales speak of treasure hidden within its walls, though guardians may yet remain. I myself have not ventured there.”
Nesquo shifts his weight from foot to foot, frustration building. “What did he say?” he demands, his voice rising above the draconic conversation. “We should learn to speak Draconic,” Grapalt mutters beside him.
“Tell him we want him to travel with us!” Nesquo shouts.
Gandalf’s eyes narrow with irritation. He turns to Fornax and speaks in draconic, informing the dragon that Nesquo has been making threats against him. The dragon’s head whips around, metallic eyes locking onto Nesquo with frightening intensity. In three powerful strides, Fornax crosses the distance and slams the druid to the ground. The dragon’s massive head descends until his snout hovers inches from Nesquo’s face, and a torrent of growling, snapping draconic words pours forth.
When Fornax finally withdraws, Nesquo whispers from his position flat on his back, “What did he say?”
“Fornax says not to tell me you’re going to kill me anymore,” Gandalf replies coolly.
Nesquo pushes himself up on his elbows. “I was just kidding!”
“That’s gaslighting,” Gandalf states flatly, then turns his attention to Grapalt.
The dragon addresses the fighter directly, speaking with formal respect. Fornax then spreads his wings and takes flight, disappearing over the canopy—only to return moments later with items clutched carefully in his talons.
“I thank you, Sir Grapalt,” Gandalf translates as the dragon lands, “for freeing me from the blights. As tokens of my gratitude, please accept these gifts.”
Grapalt steps forward and receives a golden ring that catches the light, along with a leather-bound tome. When he opens the book, he finds pages filled with draconic script—a dictionary that will unlock the elegant and ancient language for him to learn.
