Lyn woke up in a soft bed. The ceiling above was worked stone. If not for her Duskari vision, she would be blind as the room had no light sources. Looking around, she observed a small bedside table with a cup and pitcher sitting on it and a simple chair with clothes thrown over the backrest. She sat up, wincing in pain, and reached out with her right hand towards the cup. She paused. Someone healed me. She examined the place where her hand had been lopped off and couldn't even see the mark where it was re-knit with magical power. Whoever healed me must be a master, she thought. The healing was impeccable, as good as Trish's healing.
She reached out and grabbed the cup, quaffing down the water, before grabbing the pitcher and chugging that down. The water woke her groggy body up the rest of the way, and she could feel the slight pulse of pain in her extremities. As soon as I get up...gah, this is going to hurt. She slowly turned in bed and stood up – feeling the pain shoot down through her legs as she let out a short yelp from the sudden, jarring agony. Even expecting it didn't help much, and she fell back on the bed.
The door to the room opened, and an ancient, wizened looking Duskari came into the room. Vael – the Duskari who had seemingly saved Lyn – was standing in the doorway behind, spear at the ready. The older Duskari pulled the chair closer, "Now, now." She shook her head, "Don't move. Your mana channels seem to have suffered trauma."
Lyn shifted slightly to allow her to relax her full body on the bed. "Who are you?"
"I am elder Vehenna," she muttered. "One of the three who guide the Conclave of the Fortress."
That puzzled Lyn. We never fought Duskari inside the fortress. The heroes had fought monsters, elementals, magical constructs, and dealt with traps. But no Duskari once they had fought against the army outside. "How long have you been here?"
The woman chuckled, "Since the beginning, young one." The woman hoisted a small bucket and set it on the bed next to her. "Lie back, please. We need to wash you. Can't have bed sores."
Lyn nodded and tried to relax. But she felt her mana core roil, and rolled on her side as she doubled over in pain. The heat continued to build. "Run!" she gasped out.
The elder stood rapidly and ran to the door. Vael entered and pointed a spear at Lyn.
"Get out of the room!" Lyn screamed as she felt the mana boiling over. I have to release it! She held her right arm out and gritted her teeth as she tried to gently open the mana channel, trying to restrict the flow. It was useless, as the moment she even opened the channel, the mana rushed through and blew it wide open again, cascading lava across the room as her mana surged once more.
Vael's eyes went wide in terror as she backed away to the door. The elder let her pass, before moving forward and chanting a spell, "En ethiel an le / thalion min / gorthon I thalion / a bartho han / uin del." A soothing, light-blue bubble appeared around the lava and Lyn's hand.
Lyn tried to force the mana channel shut, and slowly, excruciatingly so – she was able to feel the aperture despite the roiling mana cascading through it. Just like slowly controlling a muscle that she wasn't used to flexing, she tightened the channel until the torrent ceased. She still felt the roiling inside...but she had it under control. Barely. If not for the older woman's spell, the room would have filled up entirely; but it was somehow condensing down the lava. Gravity? Holy hell, that takes a lot of mana to pull off.
Elder Vehenna's spell persisted as the lava cooled. She turned to Lyn and fell prostrate on the floor, "Oh mighty one! You return to us!"
Lyn looked at the woman, confused. "Come again?"
Vael tossed her spear aside and followed Vehenna's lead, "You have returned...that power is unmistakable."
Lyn was about to say something but paused. They think I'm the Demonic Dragon. I could play this to my advantage. Play dumb or pretend...Lyn knew she wasn't a good liar. Playing the amnesiac was the way to go in her mind rather than owning up to the role. "I don't recall being the Demonic Dragon."
Vehenna raised her head and turned to Vael, "Go, tell the other elders to meet me at the council chamber." She bowed her head once more, "Please, oh mighty one, stay still!" She stood up, grabbed Vael's dropped spear, and the two left the room rapidly.
A warm, blissful heat spread through her arm and soothed the aching pain as a gout of lava blasted up and into the roof before dripping back down on her, igniting the cushions aflame. This thing responds to anger. But it wasn't like Kory's Berserker core, which grew in power the angrier he got while becoming harder to control. The power was there, and plentiful, but the anger seemed to help direct it within her. I've always been good at focusing my anger. This suits me.
"En ethiel an le / thalion min / togo lin athrad," Vael shouted as a torrent of water shot out from her palm and sizzled against the lava, cooling it to shining, black obsidian.
All three of the elder's jaws dropped. Bhelarm prostrated himself, "Forgive me! I swear, I am your faithful servant forevermore!"
Lyn dismissed the orb. Okay. Keep the façade going. You're the new Destroyer. Act like a ruler. "You are forgiven. Now, I have some questions."
Bhelarm nodded and gestured to Vael, "Fetch us refreshments." He looked at Lyn, "Anything you desire, oh mighty one?"
"What can you tell me about my last death? What exactly happened?"
Vehenna nodded solemnly, "The heroes defeated our Lord – you – in a great battle that shook the fortress. Their leader – the Paragon – struck the final blow of our master."
"Are you serious?!" Lyn blurted out. He took the goddamn credit? James wasn't malicious – she knew that much about him. He was just a fantasy nerd who got the best mana core because he was 'chosen' by some old statue. I'm the one that killed it! Lyn felt anger boiling up in her, and her mana core responded to her anger. She felt it boil up inside before she redirected the mana flow into the object. It glowed with a bright, neon-blue light before fading slightly.
The elders' faces paled in fear, and they flung themselves prone in front of her, "Forgive us!" Bhelarm cried out. "We didn't mean offense!"
Lyn took several deep breaths trying to calm herself. "How many heroes were in the party?"
Vael spoke from behind her, "If I recall correctly, there were ten."
"Describe them," Lyn ordered as she turned to face the terrified younger Duskari.
Vael nodded, "I'll grab the reports!" She ran off, and Lyn sat in a tense silence with the elders still laid prone. A few minutes passed and Vael returned, throwing herself on her knees in front of Lyn and holding up a series of twine-bound, parchment scrolls. "The reports, mighty one."
Lyn grabbed the scroll and pulled the twine off. Damnit. I don't know how to read their language. I only know how to speak it. She cleared her throat, "My recollection of our written language has not returned to me yet. Read it aloud." Treating the Duskari as lessers left a sour taste in her mouth, and brought back the vivid memories of when her father treated her like a lesser being. But she pushed those memories back. I have to keep up the charade. They think I'm the Destroyer, I have to make them keep thinking that.
Vael sat up and nodded, gently and reverently taking the scroll before unrolling it and speaking, "There were ten heroes who entered our Lord – erm, your fortress..." she went on to describe from the report, in detail, the attire, weaponry, equipment, and spells. Whoever was taking those notes from afar had excellent reporting skills.
They got all the descriptions down perfectly; she thought as the vivid language painted a picture in her mind that perfectly matched the gear and demeanor of the other heroes. Nine of them were described in great detail, but the tenth was seemingly a blot. A grey mass that eluded the descriptive detail of the report-taker, as if the person were a placeholder.
Why am I not mentioned?