Chapter 353
In the blink of an eye, six months had passed since Aasterinian and Draco embarked on their journey towards the distant Valley of Dragons.
The world had unfolded beneath their wings in a dizzying panorama of diverse landscapes and unexpected detours.
The journey so far had been quite a ride, a tapestry woven with moments of breathtaking beauty, quiet companionship, and no small amount of exasperating adventure.
Their travels through Rakia’s territory, in particular, had proven to be memorable.
Aasterinian, with her insatiable curiosity, had insisted on stopping at various places of interest, peculiar geological formations, even bustling market towns where the scent of exotic spices hung heavy in the air.
Draco, often found himself playing the reluctant escort, though he secretly enjoyed the novel experiences.
It was in a vibrant coastal city not far from Rakia’s capital that their patience had been truly tested.
Aasterinian’s otherworldly beauty, a striking ethereal quality that seemed to radiate even when she tried to temper it, was simply too much for some mortal eyes to ignore.
Coupled with Draco’s own unusual features…….they were a magnet for unwanted attention.
A particularly annoying, self-important god of revelry, surrounded by a coterie of equally obnoxious nobles, had taken an unfortunate interest.
The god, whose name Draco vaguely recalled as something utterly forgettable…..Samedi or something he was called, had been insufferably persistent.
He saw Aasterinian as a challenge, an exquisite prize to be won, despite her clear disinterest.
His flirtations grew bolder, his insinuations more crass, his attempts to physically impede their departure increasingly frustrating.
Even Draco, felt a slow burn of annoyance.
Aasterinian, who often appeared easygoing and detached, like most dragon gods/goddess’s possessed a scary temper beneath her calm exterior.
Like Bahamut, she had little patience for insolence, particularly when it encroached upon her personal space or her peace.
“Such a tiresome creature,” she had murmured, her voice soft but imbued with a chill that made the air around them prickle.
Her eyes, usually a serene azure, had begun to glow with a faint, dangerous light.
Draco knew that look.
He had seen it on Bahamut’s face, a harbinger of imminent, catastrophic destruction.
The god drunk on his own assumed authority and perhaps too much wine, remained oblivious, pressing for an answer.
It required all of Draco’s diplomatic skill and surprising persuasive power to avert a truly world-altering incident.
“Lady Asta,” he interjected smoothly, stepping subtly between her and the increasingly blustering god, “If I recall, there should be a place of interest near here…….East of here, beyond the Rakian lands, there is a place called the Black desert……would you be perhaps interested in exploring?”
He infused his words with a sense of urgency, a hint of thrill, knowing her deep-seated intellectual curiosity often trumped her immediate irritation.
The glow in her eyes softened, though the anger lingered.
Her brow furrowed in thought, considering the distraction.
“Ah, yes,” she finally conceded, a thoughtful hum replacing the dangerous undertone.
The god, still attempting to assert himself, found himself abruptly ignored as Aasterinian turned fully to Draco, already detailing what she knew about the place.
Draco offered the fuming deity a placating, if somewhat insincere, bow, before swiftly guiding Aasterinian away from the bewildered crowd.
He managed to convince her not to wipe out Rakia’s capital, but the price of that peace was a detour he soon came to regret.
The Black Desert, located in the vast Dedine region, was not merely a barren landscape; it was a scar upon the world, a monument to a titan’s dying throes.
This was the place where the legendary Behemoth, one of the three great disasters, had finally been vanquished by the combined might of the Zeus and Hera Familia, supported by a host of smaller familias.
The Behemoth had been an exceedingly poisonous creature, its very essence saturated with lethal venom.
Upon its death, its gargantuan body had disintegrated into ashes, blanketing an immense swathe of land and rendering it utterly sterile.
If one were to describe the Black Desert in a single word, it would undeniably be ‘hell’.
The scorching sun beat down on black, cracked earth, utterly devoid of life.
The air shimmered with oppressive heat, and a subtle, acrid tang hinted at the lingering malevolence.
Even after all this time, it was said that some of the Behemoth’s poison still permeated the land, manifesting in a special, incredibly rare plant…..a mythical herb whispered about in hushed tones by the few hardy residents who dared to live near the devastated region.
Aasterinian, ever the seeker of knowledge, had been captivated by this folklore.
“For research purposes,” she had stated, her eyes gleaming with an almost childlike excitement, demanding that Draco accompany her on a perilous quest to find this legendary flora.
Draco, still reeling from the potential devastation of Rakia, found himself agreeing, yet again.
They spent two grueling months scouring almost every corner of the Black Desert.
The sheer monotony, the constantly oppressive heat, and the ever-present danger of the lingering toxins made it one of the most challenging legs of their journey.
They navigated treacherous canyons of black rock, climbed crumbling mesas that crumbled to poisonous dust, and endured sandstorms that whipped the toxic ash into blinding, stinging clouds.
Draco, relying on his enhanced senses and magical detection, meticulously scanned for any sign of life, any deviation from the sterile norm.
Finally, after two months of fruitless searching, they found one.
Tucked away in a secluded gully, shielded by an unnaturally twisted rock formation, grew a single, spectral plant.
Its leaves, a deep, velvety purple, pulsed faintly with an inner light, and its delicate blossoms emitted a faint, sweet, yet unmistakably toxic aroma.
It was breathtakingly beautiful, and utterly deadly.
Aasterinian studied it with revered fascination, her divine body carefully shielding her from its potent aura.
As much as she would have loved to simply uproot the entire specimen for her studies, she didn’t.
The plant was exceedingly rare and incredibly fragile; its unique properties were inextricably linked to its toxic environment.
There was no known way to recreate such a specific, deadly ecosystem outside of the Black Desert itself.
Settling for just a few of its carefully plucked leaves, Aasterinian treated the plant with a reverence that surprised Draco, a quiet acknowledgment of its precious, un-replicable existence.
Their silly side quest, as Draco secretly termed it, finally complete, they turned their gaze northward.
Next, they crossed a large mountain range, its jagged peaks forming a natural barrier that separated the desolate Dedine region from the White Ice Forest, an area locally known as Fanache.
The transition was stark: from the scorching blackness of the desert, they entered a world of pristine white.
Fanache was a vast, snow-covered forest, its ancient trees cloaked in thick blankets of white, their branches glittering with frost.
This ethereal woodland bordered the ultimate destination of their journey: the Valley of Dragons.
Fanache was also home to several secluded elven villages, ancient settlements hidden deep within the snowy embrace of the forest.
One such village, Aasterinian mentioned, belonged to an acquaintance.
It was meant to be their last stop, a brief respite before they finally ventured into the Valley.
However, as they broke through a final cloud layer, the serene anticipation that had accompanied them for so long shattered.
Below, nestled within a clearing of frosted trees, the elven village was not at peace.
Billowing black smoke stained the pristine white landscape, rising in ominous plumes towards the sky.
The sharp, terrified screams of elves mingled with the guttural roars of a predator.
Houses, their roofs once heavy with snow, were now splintered husks, flames licking hungrily at their wooden frames.
And at the heart of the chaos, a massive, scaly form moved with devastating power.
Its wings, leathery and dark, beat the air with concussive force, sending snow and debris scattering.
Its jaws, lined with dagger-sharp teeth, snapped at fleeing figures, and its tail, thick as a tree trunk, swept through structures with contemptuous ease.
It was a dragon, undoubtedly one that had descended from the nearby Valley, rampaging with unrestrained fury.
The ground beneath it was littered with still forms, silent against the backdrop of destruction. Several casualties had already occurred.
Without hesitation, without a word exchanged between them, their objective now clear…….
A/N: Hopefully the journey part isn't so boring……did try to create a few interesting incidents between but………anyway the elven village is home to Alicia, a member, or rather future member of the Loki familia……if I remember correctly she is close to Riveria.
I cant find any information on if she has joined the Loki familia yet, so I will have to bullshit my way through.
Feel free to read ahead on pat3on, donate and read 1 extra chapter as a free member.