Emily, Naked in Thessolan

[FinchAgent]

After what felt like an eternity of unbearable cold, but was probably less than half an hour, Sigrid stopped, pointing. "There!"

Nestled at the base of a sheer rock face, partially obscured by a curtain of wind-driven snow, was a narrow fissure, a dark opening, barely wider than a person's shoulders.

"C-cave?" Emily breathed.

"Or a den," Sigrid grunted. "Let's hope whatever lives there is s-smaller than us."

They struggled through the last few yards of deep snow, collapsing against the rock face beside the opening. The fissure led into darkness, but crucially, it offered immediate shelter from the howling wind. The air inside felt still, and marginally less frigid.

"I'll go first," Sigrid said, peering into the darkness and holding Grognak ahead of her. "Stay close behind me. And keep the fire going."

Emily nodded, summoning slightly larger flames. Sigrid ducked low and squeezed through the narrow opening, axe held ready. Emily followed right behind, crawling on her hands and knees through the tight entranceway. Her hips stuck momentarily, but came loose with some insistent wiggling, much to her relief.

The fissure opened up almost immediately into a small, dry cave, perhaps ten feet across and high enough for Emily to stand comfortably in the center and Sigrid to stoop only a little. The floor was relatively smooth rock, free of snow, and the air was blessedly still. It smelled earthy and slightly damp, but not unpleasant. There were no obvious signs of recent habitation, animal or otherwise.

"Safe," Sigrid declared, lowering Grognak, her voice echoing slightly in the enclosed space. Relief washed over her face, though she was still shivering violently.

Emily crawled the rest of the way in and sagged against the cave wall, utterly spent. The small flames in her hands sputtered and died as her concentration lapsed. The darkness that enveloped them was almost total.

"Fire," Emily whispered, her teeth chattering too hard to speak clearly. "N-need a real fire."

"Right." Sigrid felt around near the entrance. "Some dry brush caught in the opening." She gathered a small pile of twigs and desiccated roots that had blown into the fissure.

Emily winced at the draft from the now-cleared fissure. The Bronzeband was cold against her ankle, but warmed slightly as she channeled its power. With a low grinding sound that echoed in the cave, the rock around the entrance stretched inwards, narrowing the fissure until only a tiny crack remained, sealing them inside while still allowing a trickle of air.

"Not just a fire mage, then," Sigrid commented, letting out a low, appreciative whistle as she arranged the kindling.

Emily managed a weak smile and indicated her ankle. "That's from the Bronzeband. I won it in a duel. It lets me controls stone."

"A duel, eh? Against who?" Sigrid asked, arranging the kindling.

Emily hesitated, the memory of Richard's smirking face and horrific end still fresh. "A pirate. Long story."

"Bet it is," Sigrid grunted, not pressing.

Glancing wearily at the pile of twigs and roots, Emily coaxed a spark from her fingertip. The kindling caught quickly, and a small, cheerful fire sprang to life in the center of the cave, casting flickering orange light on the rock walls and the shivering bodies of the cave's two inhabitants.

Sigrid and Emily huddled together beside the growing flames, reaching out to take in the welcome heat as feeling slowly returned to their extremities. For a long time, the silence of the cave was broken only by the fire's crackle.

Sigrid finally broke the silence, her voice low and rough. "That teleport thing... does it always...?" She gestured vaguely at their shared lack of clothing.

Emily hugged her knees tighter, staring into the flames. "Yeah. It burns anything that's not either living flesh or an enchanted artifact. Clothes, most often... though my hair tie always seems to survive, weirdly."

Sigrid looked down her bare arms at the flickering fire. "Better naked and alive than armored and dead at the bottom of that ice pit." She patted Emily's shoulder. "That fire-flying... and the jumps... never seen anything like it. You proved yourself out there, and I owe you my life."

"I couldn't have done it without Grognak," Emily said, casting a glance at the axe laying beside Sigrid.

"You and me both," Sigrid chuckled, patting the axe's handle affectionately.

They sat for a while absorbing the heat from the fire, and watching shadows dance across the cave walls.



"So," Sigrid said eventually, tossing a stray twig into the fire. "We're stuck in a cave, naked as newborns, with no supplies to speak of."

Emily remembered her pack, and how she'd dropped it when the frost sprites attacked. It was on the other side of the ravine, buried in the snow—all the food, water and warm clothing Abbot Thelrin had given her was gone.

"Your fire magic," Sigrid said, turning immediately to practicalities. "How much can you do with it? How long does it last?"

"It depends," Emily replied, warming her palms over the flames. "I'm pretty good at summoning fires and throwing fireballs around. Lots of practice with that. I can also summon healing magic—green flames." An image of Richard's pink hands came unbidden to her mind. "Healing small cuts and burns doesn't take too much energy."

Emily's eyes came to rest on the sore-looking red patches on Sigrid's hands, prompting Sigrid to hide them behind her back, wincing as she did so. "Pay no mind to these scratches," she said, pulling her knees up to her chest defensively. "What else can your fire do?"

Emily hesitated briefly before continuing. Sigrid would accept her healing sooner or later. "The flashier stuff, like flying around, that's way more taxing," she said. "Teleportation, well, longer distances take more power, as does bringing someone else. But frequent short jumps also add up. I don't think I have any more of those in me for a while. It's probably for the best that I couldn't bring Aria along to Eyri, I don't think I would have had much of anything left after doing that."

"Aria?" asked Sigrid.

"A close friend," Emily replied. "We were supposed to travel to Eyri Abbey together, but it turns out I can't teleport statues."

Sigrid raised an eyebrow. "You're friends with a statue?"

"A living statue," Emily clarified. "She's... the whole reason I'm doing any of this. The Heartflame is the last ingredient I need for a ritual we're going to do to lift the statue curse and make her human again."

Sigrid nodded, chewing her bottom lip, watching the flames. "Right. Good thing I'm not a statue, then. But the main thing I'm getting here is that we can't teleport back to the Abbey."

"Not anytime soon," Emily confirmed. "Besides, we're already behind schedule. We'll never reach the Heartflame if we take detours."

"Aye. Got to lift that curse." Sigrid said. "But then, folks usually get cursed for a reason. Why's she cursed?"

"A mage named Arctulus did it," Emily explained, telling the condensed story of Castle Elid, Aria, and her discovery of the Stoneshell. "She and the other inhabitants have been statues for centuries. The ritual is their only chance to return to normal."

Sigrid nodded slowly, chewing her bottom lip, watching the flames. "Centuries. Hmm. Well, guess there are probably some advantages to being made of stone. Bet your friend can throw a mean punch."

Emily giggled. "Yeah, that's come in handy now and then."

"So," Sigrid said, her practical nature reasserting itself. "Your fire magic keeps us warm. That comes from your necklace. The anklet... you said it controls stone."

"Yes," Emily said, tapping her ankle. "I can move and shape stone, and other earth materials to a lesser degree—I used it on sand once, but it was really difficult."

"Useful," Sigrid grunted. "Grognak here," she patted the axe, "cuts through most things. Useful too." She eyed the small flames. "But none of our skills conjure food or clothing out of thin air, eh?"

Emily managed a weak smile and shook her head. She thought back to the fibrous leotard that she'd never been able to summon again after the first time. If the nightmoss was still sitting between the Bronzeband and her ankle, it had made itself really small, because she couldn't feel it. In any case, it seemed to have a mind of its own, coming and going as it pleased and responding to her troubles according to its own inscrutable whims.

Sigrid fell silent again, but her eyes were restless, scanning the cave walls, the sealed entrance, the fire. She seemed to be assessing possibilities, already shifting from surviving the immediate crisis to figuring out the next step.

"We should rest," Emily said, feeling the exhaustion finally catching up to her now that the adrenaline had faded and she was warm. The desire to just curl up and sleep was overwhelming.

"Aye," Sigrid agreed. "You sleep. I'll keep watch for a bit. Then you can take a turn if you're up to it."

The cave floor was hard, but compared to the freezing wind and crumbling ledge, it felt like a feather mattress. Emily huddled close to the fire, pulling her knees to her chest, and closed her eyes.

Sleep didn't come easily. Her mind was a jumble of recent events—tramping through freezing snow, desperate teleports, and the fight with the frost sprites. She was also still haunted by visions of Richard's horrifying end, the sight of his desiccated corpse surrounded by black tendrils. It was a good thing that the nightmoss seemed to be on her side.

Emily's dreams were full of shifting shadows and harshly whispering voices, alternating with well-lit scenes and soothing words. Something that shifted between a menacing shadow and an angelic figure promised her comfort and dignity, promised an end to her suffering, if only she would—it wasn't clear what. Her body was enveloped by a dress made of dark shadows, soft and luxurious against her skin, but somehow constricting. Eyes bored into the back of her head.

Emily woke with a gasp, her heart pounding. A cold dread gripped her, though the cave was warm and the fire still going strong. She blinked, trying to shake off the images from her nightmare, the feeling of something lurking just beyond her sight.

She must have drifted back to sleep, because the next time she woke, the fire was lower, and Sigrid was asleep, curled up across from her. Emily carefully replenished the fire, feeding it with more of the dry brush from the entrance.

She glanced at Sigrid's sleeping form, huddled in a posture that almost made her look small. Her muscled body was criss-crossed by scars, and her hands and forearms were still marked with red welts. Some of these, Emily realized, must have been caused by standing too close to the Stoneshell fire in the ravine. Sigrid had not once mentioned this.

Determined and a little guilty, Emily knelt down and summoned green flame to her palms. She passed the flame slowly over Sigrid's hands and wrists, the red patches shrinking and fading until they disappeared completely.

Emily had just finished her task when a thin sliver of pale light filtering through the sealed crack, annoucing dawn. Sigrid bolted awake, stretching dramatically before she felt the air against her skin and her thighs snapped back to cover her torso. Emily stifled a giggle, feeling immense sympathy.

"Right," Sigrid said, her voice scratchy. "Time for breakfast." Sitting up as straight as she could while keeping herself mostly covered with her legs, she looked at Emily, a new determination sparking in her green eyes. "These Wastes might be cold, but they ain't empty. There's things living out there. Things with meat on their bones... and skins thick enough to keep the wind off."

Sigrid carefully pushed herself up to her feet, picked up her axe and walked in an awkward crouch towards the small crack that had been the cave entrance, motioning for Emily to expand it.

"You're going back out?" Emily asked, bewildered. "Like that? Alone?"

"One of us has to," she said, tapping the side of her stomach. "Like I said, meat and skins."

"Shouldn't I..." Emily began, not really wanting to complete the sentence.

"I hunt alone," said Sigrid. "Don't need any fireworks scaring the prey."

Emily's own stomach growled audibly. Admitting that Sigrid had a point while still considering her insane, she directed the Bronzeband's energies to the enlargement of the entrance.

"If I'm not back by noon, come after me," Sigrid said, her jaw tight against a shiver she refused to fully indulge. She slipped through the cave entrance, moving with a determined, if slightly rigid, stride back into the biting wind.

Hours later, Emily looked up from the fire to see Sigrid's grinning face appear in the entrance crack. She enlarged it instantly, and Sigrid stumbled in.

She was shivering violently and covered in snow, her lips blue and her skin almost translucent, looking utterly spent but triumphant. She carried two small, limp forms over her shoulder. They were furry creatures, somewhat like large hares, but with thick, white pelts. In her other hand, Grognak dripped crimson snow.



"Got lucky," Sigrid said, ducking back into the cave. "Cold-hares. Tough meat, but filling. And their pelts are warm and durable." Her voice was hoarse with cold and exertion. She dropped the bodies to one side and sighed heavily at the fire's touch, her skin dripping as the snow and ice melted from it. Emily could see some new cuts and grazes.

She watched with equal fascination and squeamishness as Sigrid efficiently skinned the creatures using Grognak's edge. The pelts were indeed thick and surprisingly large once removed. Sigrid carefully cleaned them with handfuls of snow brought from just outside the sealed entrance, stretching them taut near the fire to begin the drying process. The smell of raw meat and damp fur filled the cave.

"Meat'll need cooking," Sigrid said, starting to butcher the carcasses. "And the pelts will need curing and shaping. Takes time. But we won't starve or freeze." She held up one of the thick pelts, already looking warmer than anything Emily had lost in the teleportation.

Since she'd arrived in Thessolan, Emily had repeatedly greeted all-too-infrequent offers of clothing with immense gratitude. But after her naked jaunt through the snow, she decided that these pelts were the outfit she was happiest to see. "It looks wonderful, Sigrid!"

"Aye," Sigrid grunted, focused on her task. "Won't be nothing fancy, nothing like my armor." A flicker of sadness touched her eyes for a moment. "But it'll keep us warm."

Over the next day and a half, the small cave became a workshop. Emily kept the fire going while Sigrid carefully scraped and cleaned the pelts, rubbed them with handfuls of ash from the fire and some kind of greasy residue she found on the cave walls. It helped to soften and cure the hides, she said. She chewed at tougher parts with her strong teeth, her forehead furrowed in concentration. It was a slow, painstaking process, revealing another side to Sigrid.

They ate multiple meals of cold-hare meat roasted over the fire, tough but filling. The cave was filled with the smell of woodsmoke, curing hides, and roasted meat.

During the long hours of work, Sigrid spoke of the Frostfang Clan, their traditions of strength and survival in the frozen north and the importance of personal honor. She still seemed highly uncomfortable with their shared nudity, avoiding looking at herself or Emily.

Her armor had been an extension of herself, marked with the victories and trials that had shaped her, which she now recounted to Emily. To her surprise, the armor had originally been quite modest, but much of it had already been destroyed in previous battles. The display of scars from great victories was highly important to Frostfangs, and while Sigrid had repaired her armor occasionally, she never patched over the scars with the greatest stories. Emily was reminded of Caelum, and of the mermaids and their alkayi.

In turn, Emily spoke cautiously of her own world. She struggled to explain most of what she talked about—electricity, cars, and the internet were as fantastical and bizarre to Sigrid as they had been to Aria. Her adventures in Thessolan were a more successful topic, and she impressed Sigrid with the breadth of the places she'd been and people she'd met.

They talked about the Stoneshell and the Bronzeband. Sigrid asked detailed questions about how Emily's powers worked, showing a surprisingly analytical mind beneath her boisterous exterior. Though her axe was enchanted, its magic was far simpler.

Emily learned that the name Sigrid Wyrmtamer had been earned through a battle with and victory against a young, ice-breathing wyrm. Ever since then, Sigrid had traveled wild parts of Thessolan, seeking out dangerous creatures and often fighting them. This gave her a specific interest in the petrified dragon near the Crucible. "I've fought dragons, but never a stone dragon," she said. "Wasn't expecting much of a fight initially, to be honest with you. But the more you talk about your stone friends, the more I think this dragon might be more lively than the stories say."

For her part, Emily was hoping to avoid a fight. She had to admit, though, that Sigrid seemed like just the companion to have when one inevitably broke out.

On their third day in the cave, Sigrid finally deemed the pelts ready. Using strips of cured hide as thread, she roughly stitched together two sets of simple coverings, made up of tunics, skirts, and very rough approximations of thigh-high boots. The seams were crude and the fit approximate, but it was clothing.

"It's not much," Sigrid said, holding out a set for Emily. "I never was the furrier of the family. But it's better than nothing."

"It's wonderful, Sigrid," Emily said, hugging the warm fur to her skin.

Slipping the garments on, she realized that, while crude, Sigrid had still shaped them to her tastes. Either that, or there just wasn't that much pelt on the cold-hares. Both the top and bottom were abbreviated, meaning that Emily's midriff and thighs would have to withstand the biting winter cold. Fortunately, the long, fuzzy boots came up to her knees and Sigrid had also made fuzzy bracers for their forearms. And Sigrid's own outfit was even more attenuated than Emily's, leaving the scars on her stomach and the muscles on her legs exposed.

"Thank you, Sigrid," Emily said, once she had dressed, though she couldn't help but tug at the hem of the fur top.

Sigrid nodded, running a hand over her own similarly cropped furs. Her confidence—swagger, really—had returned in full force now that she was clothed again. "Aye. Feels better. Let's get moving."

After putting out the fire and collecting the remains of the cold-hare meat in a crude pelt-pouch, Sigrid and Emily emerged from the cave into the harsh but clear dawn of the Cinder Wastes. The wind was milder today, but Emily could still see her breath and felt the chill against the areas of her skin that Frostfang fashion insisted on exposing.

"Crucible's that way," Sigrid said, pointed with Grognak towards the dark peak on the horizon, now just a little more defined in the morning light. If she felt the cold as Emily did, she didn't show it.

Emily nodded. "Let's go. The solstice is coming." By her count, they had seven days left.

The terrain was deceptive. Snow lay deep in drifts, hiding treacherous fields of shattered obsidian beneath. The wind wasn't constant, but came in sudden, violent gusts that threatened to throw them off balance. On steeper slopes, Emily pulled out areas of stone to break up icy patches, preventing them from slipping. Sigrid moved with a grim, relentless stride, using Grognak to test snow depth and chip away treacherous ice.

Hours blurred together as they marched forward, their eyes locked on the immense black peak of the Crucible. They saw no more frost sprites, but the rough terrain and cold wind were challenge enough. As the day wore on, Emily could focus on little more than placing one fur-clad foot in front of the other, keeping her mostly bare legs moving lest they become too numb from the cold.



At nightfall, they found another cave and cooked and shared the remaining cold-hare meat, drinking water from Stoneshell-melted snow to wash it down.

After five long days of monotonous hiking, the landscape began to change. The snow thinned, replaced by stretches of gritty grey ash. The air grew warmer, the biting wind lessening, only to be replaced by a shimmering heat haze rising from dark patches of ground. The skeletal trees grew sparser, and instead of frost, some bore brittle, ash-coated leaves that crumbled to dust at a touch. The Crucible loomed larger now, almost filling their vision at times, scars of old lava flows now visible down its sides.

"Transition zone," Sigrid grunted, tugging at her fur tunic as sweat poured from her brows.

Emily found the heat to be a welcome relief after the biting cold of the last few days. She no longer needed to light Stoneshell fires in her palms to keep the feeling in her fingers.

As they moved into the ash fields, the air grew stiller, the smell of sulfur heavier. A haze of heat distorted the volcano into wavering, unreal shapes. Flames on the horizon flickered in and out of view, seeming to grow bigger as they walked towards them.

Emily was about to remark on the strange persistence of these optical illusions when Sigrid raised her axe and shouted, "Fire imps!"

They were smaller than the frost sprites, little more than knee-high, made of shimmering heat and flickering flame. They darted through the ash, their chittering cries even higher pitched than the sprites'.

"Eat steel!" Sigrid roared, instantly shaking off the weariness of the long walk at the first sign of action. Axe held high, she charged the imps, screaming a gutteral chant.

Emily launched a fireball at the nearest of the imps. Immediately on collision, the imp absorbed the fireball and grew in height by a head, chittering with delight. Emily screamed.

"Don't feed them!" Sigrid yelled, slicing the oversized fire imp in half with Grognak's blade, which was glowing purple.

Emily watched in awe as both halves of the imp exploded into sparks. "S-sorry," she squeaked.

"Use the stone if you want to be helpful," Sigrid spat, cleaving another two fire imps in half. "Or just stay back!"

Biting her lip, Emily focused on the less familiar magic of the Bronzeband and levitated two medium-sized slabs of obsidian into the air. Grimacing with effort, she shifted them until they were floating on either side of a stationery fire imp, and with a mighty crash, brought them together. The fire imp made a high-pitched squeak as it was extinguished.

"That's more like it!" Sigrid shouted. "Crush 'em!"

Like the frost sprites, the fire imps were numerous, seeming to boil up from the hot ash itself. Some of them charged at Sigrid and Emily, while others lobbed fireballs. Emily found that she could absorb these attacks through defensive use of Stoneshell fire, but was careful not to let any of the imps get too close to it.

Sigrid was in her element, Grognak a terrifying blur of steel. She used the axe not just to kill, but to smash the very ash from which the imps emerged, collapsing their ephemeral forms before they fully solidified. Her movements were as efficient as they were brutal.

They fought their way through the swarm, leaving trails of dissipating ash and fleeting heat behind them. When the last imp vanished, they stood panting in the sudden silence, the air thick with residual heat and the smell of sulfur.

"Alright," Sigrid breathed, wiping sweat and ash from her brow with the back of her hand. "That's the lot of 'em. And no ravines this time."

Emily nodded, letting the last stones she was levitating fall to the ground. "That was intense."

"Eh, I've fought worse," Sigrid said. "Honestly, I had half a mind to ask you to start feeding them again. Make it a real challenge."

Emily said nothing, her eyes aimed at her furry boots as she blushed for a different reason than usual.

"You'll want to be careful with that fire around here," Sigrid said. "Other places it gives you an advantage, but not here. Fire elementals feed on it. And don't expect it to work on the dragon either." She glanced down at her tunic, its fur damp with sweat. "Don't know about you, but I'm ready to combust in these furs," said Sigrid. Her face was red as a tomato.

Loathe though she was to admit it, Emily felt much the same. The thick white fur of the cold-hares had been a lifesaver in the snow and ice of the outer wastes, but was extraordinarily uncomfortable this close to the volcano, especially after the workout she'd gotten dealing with the imps. She cast Sigrid a sympathetic look.

"I'm not suggestin' we strip off, if that's what you're thinking," Sigrid continued, a flash of discomfort in her eyes. "I can use Grognak to shear the fur off the skins." As if to demonstrate, Sigrid grabbed a fistful of white fur from her chest and sliced it off in one smooth motion of her axe, revealing the hareskin beneath.

Emily breathed a sigh of deep relief. She wondered how many other times in her adventures thus far there might have been sensible but unexplored alternatives to stripping off. "Good idea, Sigrid," she said.

Sigrid made short work of her own outfit, leaving a pile of white fur at her feet before moving onto Emily. Emily's heart raced as Sigrid grabbed at her, yanking her violently forward by the fur of her top. "Eep!"

"Sorry, don't know me own strength," Sigrid said dismissively, clearly not very sorry at all. Throughout the shearing, she did not make an effort to use any less strength, and Emily found herself increasingly grateful that they were on the same side.

In a few minutes, Emily stood beside Sigrid in her modified and much cooler hare-leather outfit, realizing for the first time just how much of the clothings' volume had been composed of fluffy fur. Their skirts were now closer to loincloths, and their tops little more than bras. This was, Emily told herself, much more suited to the heat. It was also more than she'd worn in Castle Elid, or at the Coral Gala.

The way became steeper as they approached the foothills of the Crucible. The final approach was a climb. Ash fields gave way to slopes of jagged, black volcanic rock, many warm to the touch. Steam vents hissed from cracks in the ground. Sweating even now, Emily was grateful for the adjustments Sigrid had made to their outfits.

Sigrid led the way, testing footholds for stability with her axe. Where the way became too difficult, Emily shifted rock with the Bronzeband. At last, they reached an opening in the side of the mountain. The air inside was suffused with heat and smelled strongly of sulphur.

Emily looked at Sigrid, her face illuminated by the volcanic glow, rock dust clinging to her damp skin. Sigrid met her gaze, her expression hard but a little excited. "Time to meet the dragon," she said, her voice low.

Emily gulped. "The Heartflame must be somewhere inside."

"Ready, Emily?" Sigrid asked, hefting Grognak.

"Ready," Emily replied, as they ventured into the heart of the mountain.

[WingDing]

I kind of thought Emily would have used her stone shaping to make little shelters at her campsites. She made better use of the bronzeband in part 2. Perhaps I am over estimating its power?

[FinchAgent]

I kind of thought Emily would have used her stone shaping to make little shelters at her campsites. She made better use of the bronzeband in part 2. Perhaps I am over estimating its power?

The Bronzeband is likely capable of such things, wielded by an experienced user, but Emily's still getting the hang of it, and it doesn't come as easily to her as the Stoneshell's fire powers. She is also much more likely to use fire in any given situation than stone.

[Horn-eman000]

As much as I’ve enjoyed this story, I would love if, at some point, Emily would meet somebody who doesn’t really care about modesty. It almost seemed like this barbarian lady would be that if she’s usually going around in just a bikini, but no. And several chapters in, Emily has been naked in front of countless people and yet, she’s no less modest.

[student]

Ice and fire is poetic.

[FinchAgent]

As much as I’ve enjoyed this story, I would love if, at some point, Emily would meet somebody who doesn’t really care about modesty. It almost seemed like this barbarian lady would be that if she’s usually going around in just a bikini, but no.

My sole excuse for this is that I found the idea of a barbarian who customarily goes around in bikini armor being really embarrassed about full nudity to be funny.

Ice and fire is poetic.

I think so too!

[FinchAgent]

Emily and the Dragon

The air inside the Crucible was thick and smelled of metal and brimstone. Stripes of glowing magma pulsed behind thin sections of the cave walls, casting the space in a shifting red light. The rock floor warmed their feet even through the thick soles of their makeshift hareskin boots.

"By the Frostfather's sweaty armpit, it's hot!" Sigrid grunted, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. The leather of her top clung to her damp skin. "Feels like my Uncle Fjornar's forge!"

"Yeah," Emily agreed, "and it's only going to get hotter." She pulled at the shoulder strap of her outfit, already soaked with sweat. Surprising even herself, she recalled with some fondness of the days near the start of her adventure, when she had walked down country roads and through forest glades in the nude, the air cool and pleasant against her skin. Prolonged nudity had, perhaps, lessened her tolerance for uncomfortable clothing. She didn't quite know how to feel about that.

The women continued through vast caverns and narrow tunnels, hoping that it would lead them to the heart of the volcano, where the dragon's lair must surely be. Their way was lit by magma flows, which cast dancing shadows against the rock walls.

Every so often, Sigrid would stop suddenly, hold out an arm to arrest Emily's progress and listen for danger. But they seemed to be alone.

After what felt like hours of trudging through the oppressive heat, a new sound reached their ears, faintly at first, but growing more distinct. It was a rhythmic sound, metal clanging repeatedly against rock—the sound of mining.

"There's someone else here," Sigrid muttered, her hand instinctively going to Grognak. "Several someones, by the sound of it." She crept forward with renewed caution.

"I hope they're friendly," said Emily.

"That's no fun."

Emily sighed.

With Sigrid in the lead, they followed the noise through a narrow, twisty tunnel that opened into a surprisingly large, domed chamber, much better lit than anywhere they had been thus far. The source of the light was a series of glowing fissures in the floor, crisscrossing the chamber like fiery veins. The rhythmic clanging was much louder here, accompanied by the hiss of steam and the occasional grunt.

Clustered around one of the larger fissures, which seemed to function as a natural forge, were figures unlike any Emily had yet encountered. They were short, barely reaching Emily's waist, but incredibly broad and powerfully built. Their skin ranged in color from deep charcoal to a dull, ruddy orange. Their hair and beards were uniformly bright orange, bursting from their skin like fires. They wore simple kilts made of woven fiber, leaving their muscular torsos covered only by their fiery beards. Each one wielded a pickaxe, a hammer or both—the source of the rhythmic clanging.

They were dwarves, if Emily had to guess.

Sigrid let out a low whistle. "Wasn't expecting fire dwarves here."

One of the dwarves, whose beard was a particularly fiery orange, looked up from his hammering, his glowing amber eyes fixing on them. He let out a sharp bark, and the other dwarves, perhaps a dozen in total, stopped their work, turning as one to face the intruders. Their expressions were stern and unreadable where they weren't hidden by orange fuzz.

"Halt, surface-dwellers!" the leader boomed, his voice surprisingly deep and resonant for his size, echoing in the chamber. "This is the domain of the Klagstone Clan! State your purpose!"

Before Emily could speak, Sigrid stepped forward, still gripping the handle of her axe. "Hail and well met, fire dwarves of Clan Klagstone! I am Sigrid Wyrmtamer of Frostfang, and this is Emily Stone-Shell-Bearer. We're looking for a big, old, stone dragon, and something called a Heartflame."

Emily was grateful that Sigrid had not simply attacked the dwarves, but wasn't totally sure that immediately laying all their cards on the table had been the right move. She hadn't expected the Crucible to be inhabited? Would these dwarves take kindly to the idea of two surface dwellers plundering them?

The dwarves exchanged glances. The one who had spoken stroked his beard, his gaze slowly sweeping over them. His eyes narrowed, and a look of disapproval, bordering on disgust, crossed his features.

"Hareskin," he growled, his voice dripping with contempt. He spat onto the hot rock floor, where it sizzled and evaporated instantly. "You come before the disciples of Ignis Draken, Guardian of the Heartflame, draped in the flayed hides of innocents?"

Emily blinked, confused. Her hands went up to her hareskin top. "We... Sigrid hunted them. For food, and... well, we were freezing. We, uh, kind of didn't have anything else to wear. It's a long story."

Another dwarf, whose skin was a deep, volcanic black, thumped his hammer on the ground. "Flesh is not food! Skin is not clothing!"

"Quite right, Gunther," said the first dwarf. "You have silenced the songs of these beautiful creatures and desecrated their remains!"

"They... sing?" Emily asked, not sure if she should be incredulous or horrified.

"As do all living beings!" the first dwarf, who seemed to be their leader, declared. "The fire dwarves of Klagstone are sworn protectors of all life, great and small, within these sacred Wastes. We subsist on the fire-lichen that grows in the deeper vents and the crystal-salts from the magma flows. We share the vow of Ignis Draken to harm no living creature!" He looked darkly at Sigrid's axe before lifting his own hammer proudly. "We use our tools to build, rather than destroy."

"You're... vegans?" Emily blurted out, the word feeling strangely out of place in the volcanic chamber. Thessolan truly was a land of wonders.

The dwarves looked at each other, clearly unfamiliar with the term. "Ignis Draken chose harmony over bloodshed at great personal cost," said the leader at last. "It would appear that you surface-dwellers have done the opposite." His fiery eyes bored into their leather outfits with renewed disdain.

Sigrid, who had been looking increasingly uncomfortable and confused during this exchange, finally found her voice. "No offense was intended. But just as it is your custom to subsist on the mountain's bounty, it is the Frostfang's to reap the bounty of the land above, animal and vegetable alike." She shifted her weight, Grognak glinting in the forge light. "I assure you that the proper rites were observed in the killing of these hares, and their spirits blessed by the Frost Father."

"We do not care about the primitive superstitions of a barbaric race," the leader said, spitting on the hot rock floor once again.

Sigrid's grip tightened around Grognak's handle, and Emily placed a hand on her arm. She looked into Sigrid's eyes, pleading with her to keep her temper. A low growl sounded from Sigrid's throat, but she remained still.

"We're very sorry," Emily said to the leader, tears pricking in her eyes. "It was an act of desperation. Is there anything we can do to atone?"

From the leader's facial expression, Emily guessed the answer would be in the negative. But before he spoke, another dwarf—younger, judging by the modesty of his beard—scampered up and whispered something in his ear. His expression shifted from disgust to mild annoyance, and he conferred with the younger dwarf in a low voice.

After a long and quite animated exchange that neither Emily nor Sigrid could hear any distinct words from, the leader sighed deeply and turned back to them. "The cold-hares must be given a proper burial," he said. "Once this is done, we shall accept your atonement." He cast a dirty look at the younger dwarf, who was beaming from ear to ear.

"Thank you," said Emily.

The young dwarf stepped in front of the leader, holding both hands out in anticipation. "I'll see that the hares are taken for burial at once."

Emily had a feeling she knew where this was going. She gave Sigrid a knowing look, at which Sigrid's face went pale.

"Um, okay," Emily began, choosing her next words carefully. "Thank you. Do you... do you have anything else for us to wear in their stead?"

To Emily's relief, the young dwarf nodded vigorously and scampered off to confer with a group of his fellows.

"Maybe it won't be as bad as I thought," Emily whispered to Sigrid, who still seemed shell-shocked.

The young dwarf returned, hands laden with small, strappy objects made of thick brown fibres—sandals. "These'll keep your feet cool," he said, handing a pair each to Emily and Sigrid. "Much more effective than skins, I can promise you."

"Where's the rest?" Sigrid demanded.

"Rest?" asked the young dwarf innocently. "I have no idea what you mean."

"The, uh, rest of the clothes," Emily added, already dreading the reply. "You're asking us to take off our hareskins and put on... sandals."

The young dwarf nodded vigorously, still beaming. Leaning in close, he whispered, "Old Hodor won't be happy I let you have the sandals, but don't worry about it! I know how to deal with the humorless old bastard!"

"I'm not going to strip for you, you little twerp!" shouted Sigrid, raising her axe.

Silence descended in the chamber as the rhythmic clangs ceased. The eyes of a dozen dwarves instantly focused on Sigrid, their tools held at ready. The air was thick with tension.

Once more, Emily placed a pacifying hand on Sigrid's axe arm. "We don't know how many more of them there are," she whispered through gritted teeth. "And we need their help to get the Heartflame."

"They're a bunch of perverts!" Sigrid whispered back.

Emily sighed deeply, nodding. "Just... go with it, okay." She reached back to undo the crude fastenings of her top, deliberately avoiding meeting the eager gaze of the young dwarf. The words of an old animal rights slogan came to her mind, "I'd rather go naked than wear fur." It was not something she'd ever expected to say, much less act upon.

But what made her feel worse than removing her own furs was what she knew she would have to do next.

"Sigrid Wyrmtamer does not—ah!" At that moment, a shard of sharp rock shot up from the ground and sliced clean through the leather of Sigrid's top, causing it to fall. As she grasped her chest in panic, a second shard sliced through the side of her loincloth, and it dropped as well.

"I'm sorry," Emily said, looking away from Sigrid's mortified expression. She let her own top fall to the ground, and then swiftly yanked down her loincloth and kicked it off. Shame ate at her, mostly, this time, from what she had just done to Sigrid.

Sigrid's eyes, wide with shock, locked onto Emily. "You," she spat, her voice choked with rage. For a heart-stopping moment, Emily thought the axe would swing in her direction. But under the weight of a dozen dwarven stares, she couldn't muster the energy. Grognak's head trailed on the rocky ground, Sigrid's knuckles white on its shaft.

The young dwarf scooped up the skins, finally collecting Emily and Sigrid's bracers and boots, the latter of which were exchanged for dwarven sandals. "Much better," he said. "You are both very beautiful without the stench of death about you. For humans, anyway."

"Thank you," Emily said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. With an arm over her chest and the other hand covering her crotch, she nonetheless stood up straight, determined to face whatever lay ahead with as much dignity as she could muster.

The young dwarf, who introduced himself as Fimbur, beamed, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort of the human women before him. "Allow me to escort you to our village. Tonight, you are guests of the Klagstone Clan. A memorial service for the cold-hares will be held tomorrow. Your attendance is, of course, essential to completing your atonement."

"Guests?" Sigrid finally managed, her voice tight. She was now trying, with limited success, to use Grognak as a shield for her torso. "You expect us to walk through your village like this?"

Fimbur tilted his head, raising a fiery orange eyebrow. Then he broke into an easy smile. "Don't worry, the villagers won't mind. Now, if you were still wearing these pelts, that would be rightful cause for uproar." He held the hareskins out in front of his body with an absurd reverence.

"Come, come!" Fimbur chirped, already turning towards a different tunnel, clearly considering the matter settled. "The village is this way!"

When the two women still didn't move, Fimbur's face fell. "I didn't want to rub it in, but this is part of your atonement, okay? Shame as penance. I had to talk Hodor down from much worse, I promise you."



A strangled cry died in Sigrid's throat. Emily breathed out a heavy sigh and started to follow Fimbur. With no other apparent option, Sigrid soon followed. Emily kept her arms in place over her front, while Sigrid attempted a series of different positions for her axe, finding none of them satisfactory.

The fire dwarf village was in a naturally lit cavern, shafts of sunlight filtering down from fissures high above, illuminating a bustling settlement carved directly into the volcanic rock. Houses, if they could be called that, were more like hollowed-out alcoves and smoothed-out chambers, but each was a different shape, and many were adorned with intricate carvings. The air was warm, filled with the scent of strange spices and hot stone. It was as different from the goblin towns as one underground habitation could be from another.

Dwarves of all sizes bustled about, some tending to glowing patches of lichen cultivated on rock walls, others hauling baskets of glittering crystal-salts, their fiery hair and beards a vibrant contrast to the dark stone. And every single one of them, Emily noted, was wearing at least a kilt.

The arrival of two conspicuously tall, pale, surface-dwellers, naked save for their sandals, did not go unnoticed. Work stopped. Conversations died. Dozens of glowing amber eyes turned towards them. Emily felt a blush creep from her neck to her hairline, and she could hear Sigrid making a low, strangled sound beside her.

Fimbur, however, seemed to take the attention as a positive sign. "Behold!" he announced cheerfully to the nearest group of onlookers. "A show of penitence from two surface-dwellers, Emily and Sigrid, come to seek an audience with Ignis Draken!"

A murmur went through the crowd. Some dwarves nodded slowly, their expressions thoughtful. Others simply stared. In addition to her own discomfort, Emily could practically feel Sigrid's boiling anger beside her.

"This way to the Guest Cavern!" Fimbur chirped, leading them through the gawking crowd towards a larger, slightly more private-looking alcove. "It's not much, but it's warm, and the sleeping ledges are quite comfortable, or so our very occasional visitors say!"

Emily, still uncomfortably clammy with sweat, shuddered at the thought of what a dwarf who lived in a volcano might consider warm. She kept her gaze trained stiffly on the back of Fimbur's head, studiously avoiding the eyes of surrounding dwarves and walking as quickly as she could manage.

In front of a large archway Fimbur announced as the Guest Cavern, a stout, middle-aged dwarf greeted them, her eyes widening as she took in the tall forms of Emily and Sigrid. For her part, Emily had to stop herself from gasping at the woman's full beard, which was plaited with obsidian beads and hung low enough to cover her breasts.

"Got some visitors for you, Huldrua," said Fimbur, bowing slightly. "Emily and Sigrid, visitors from the surface seeking an audience with Ignis Draken."

The woman's face broke into a warm smile and she bowed deeply to Emily and Sigrid. "Welcome to the Guest Cavern," she said, ushering them in.

As Emily and Sigrid entered the cave, Huldrua fell back and, almost too quietly for them to hear, asked Fimbur why it was that the surface dwellers weren't wearing any clothing. "Is the heat too much for them?"

Fimbur muttered something inaudible, indicating the skins he had been clutching to his chest. Huldra nodded sagely. Then, in a louder voice, he bade Emily and Sigrid farewell. "Have to prepare these for the ceremony tomorrow!"

The two women cast a longing look at their erstwhile clothing as he disappeared through the archway, leaving them alone with the bearded lady dwarf.

Huldrua led them through a narrow entrance hall and then down a smaller, twisting hallway into a simple, circular room with two raised stone ledges fitted with woven fiber mats. A small, naturally glowing fissure in the wall provided dim, warm light. The room did not appear to have a door—the only privacy it afforded was a couple of sharp twists in the short hallway they'd just walked through, which shielded it from the main cavern.

"I hope the accommodation will be to your satisfaction," said Huldrua. "Please let me know if there's anything else you need for your stay."

"Thank you for your hospitality," Emily said, keeping her voice even and cordial, even as her hands sweated from prolonged contact with her skin. "We would really appreciate it if you could organize some clothes for us. Something simple? Even a sheet?"

Huldrua frowned. "Fimbur told me about your penance. Those poor hares. Lovely, delicate creatures they are." She looked Sigrid and Emily up and down. "Consider yourselves lucky. There would have been harsher penance in my day."

Not only had their hostess given them a room without a door, but she was refusing them clothes. Emily found herself unsure how to respond. "That's, um, well... we're very sorry of course. But we wouldn't want to offend anyone. Or, well, you know it's hardly sanitary—"

"Nonsense!" Huldrua replied. "Fimbur told me he'd announced your penance on the way here. The whole village is well aware of the circumstances and certainly won't be offended. What would be offensive would be if you tried to get out of your penance."

"But we're naked!" Sigrid burst out, her voice cracking. "And everyone's staring at us!"

"That is part of the penance," Huldrua said. "But I think you'd get the same stares whatever you wore or didn't wear. We do not see many humans in this part of Thessolan. You're much taller than I expected. Even I am curious... do you shave your faces? That's probably why Fimbur took a shine to you. He convinced his wife to shave once. It was all anyone talked about until her beard grew back!"

Emily stopped herself from making a face. Even with Huldrua right in front of her, she was still having trouble accepting the idea of dwarven women having beards. "Human women don't grow beards," she said. "Well not most of us, anyway. And if you do you end up working at the circus."

"Fascinating," Huldrua said, stroking her beard. "I could never shave mine! But enough chit-chat, I've got broth on the boil!" With a curt nod, Huldrua turned around and walked out of the chamber.

Emily placed two fingers on the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for a moment. Public nudity as a penance for not freezing to death in the snow. It was just her luck.

"A fine mess you've gotten us into," Sigrid said, glaring at Emily.

"Me? How is this my fault?"

"You stripped me!" Sigrid spat. "With your bloody rock magic!"

"I stripped myself too! And anyway, what choice did we have?"

"We had plenty of choices." Sigrid made a few aggressive swiping motions with her axe.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Oh, of course, we should have attacked the well-armed dwarves who outnumbered us six to one on their home turf, unprovoked. Why didn't I think of that wonderful idea?"

"It would have been more dignified," Sigrid growled.

Emily glanced down at her naked body, considering Sigrid's words. Could they really have taken the dwarves? Perhaps, but that wasn't how Emily operated. "There's nothing dignified about unnecessary violence," Emily said. "I... don't agree with the dwarves reaction to our outfits, but it wasn't worth killing over."

"So we should parade ourselves for them instead," Sigrid retorted. "Did you see the expression on Fimbur's face? He was loving it, the little perv!" She sank onto one of the ledges with a groan, burying her face in her hands. "I've faced ice wyrms, battled frost giants, and wrestled snow trolls in their lairs," she mumbled into her palms. "But this is pure torture."

Emily sat on the other ledge, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Just go along with their customs, and we'll get to see the dragon. That's what we came for."

"You mean the dragon will get to see us," Sigrid retorted, sighing dramatically. "A memorial service. For hares. Tomorrow. Naked. Truly, this is the strangest quest I have yet undertaken."

Emily smiled sympathetically. "I had to attend a merfolk gala naked, once."

Sigrid did a double-take. "You were naked for that? You didn't mention that before."

"I may have... left some of the more embarrassing details out of my stories," Emily replied, blushing deeply.

Sigrid's eyes narrowed. "How many other times have you had... these kinds of experiences?"

Emily cast her mind back and began counting on her fingers. "Um, a lot," she said. "I was actually in the middle of a bath when I arrived in that stone chamber in Castle Elid. And there was nothing to wear in that whole place! I didn't really get any proper clothes until I got to the pirate ship. Well, unless you count the cursed mind-controlling outfit Elara gave me. But that was worse than nudity!"

Sigrid's eyes widened. "I did not expect the bundled-up firemage I met in Eyri Abbey to have this kind of backstory. Thought you were a prude."

"I am!" Emily said. "Just a really unlucky one..."

Just then, Huldrua returned two rough-hewn stone bowls, filled with steaming broth. "Lichen broth, seasoned with crystal-salt," she said, passing a bowl to each of them.

Emily didn't relish the idea of eating either lichen or crystal-salt, but the broth smelled delicious and was delightfully savory. The rich flavor was almost overwhelming after nearly a week of bland, chewy cold-hare meat. Sigrid wolfed hers down greedily and immediately asked Huldrua for seconds, the food almost taking her mind off her nudity.



"Of course!" Huldrua boomed, taking her bowl. "I love to see a guest appreciating my food!"

Following the meal, of which Sigrid ultimately ate four portions, the women turned in for the night, laying atop the firmly fitted fibre mats on the stone ledges. Blankets had not been provided, but the room was very warm.

"I guess," Sigrid yawned, "I guess if a prude like you can get used to this, maybe it's not so bad." Her curled-up posture contradicted this sentiment.

"Glad to be an... inspiration," Emily replied, not sure she actually was glad. She lay on her back, hair piled atop her breasts and both hands resting over her crotch. The mat was surprisingly comfortable.

"I don't know how I'm going to sleep like this," Sigrid growled, tightening her grip on her axe. "Lightly, I s'pose, and ready to chop up any dwarf that tries to sneak in here."

Emily questioned the wisdom of sleeping with an axe as one might with a teddy bear, but decided not to voice her criticisms. She still felt back about slicing off Sigrid's clothing earlier, as much as it had been the only rational choice. And the idea of Sigrid defending their dignity with Grognak was not an unwelcome one, just then.

Sleep came quickly, despite everything, perhaps due to the cavern's soothing warmth, and was long, deep and dreamless. Far from being too hot, the warmth of the cavern seemed to be just the right temperature for the two humans to sleep without blankets.

Eventually, the sounds of dwarven voices, footfalls and clanging tools indicated that dawn had arrived. Emily opened her eyes and stared up at the rough stone ceiling, highly conscious of the warm air against her skin.

Tomorrow, she realized, was the summer solstice. Her friends at Paja Abbey would be preparing for the ritual and anxiously awaiting her return with the Heartflame. This realization only heightened her anxiety.

Sigrid was already awake, sitting up on her slab and staring intently at the cave entrance, axe in hand.

A series of light, quick footfalls echoed down the hallway, and Emily had to jump to her feet to stop Sigrid from attacking the dwarf who now appeared at the entrance.

"Good morning, fair guests!" Fimbur chirped, his eyes as wide as saucers as he took in the sight of two tall, naked human women wrestling an axe. "The Rites of Passage for the Blessed Cold Hares will commence shortly in the Great Plaza! It is a most auspicious occasion! All of the village will be in attendance!"

Emily released the axe and snapped into as modest a stance as she could muster, her arms returning to the posts they'd attended throughout most of the last day. Sigrid hugged Grognak to her body, glowering.

"The whole village..." Emily repeated, slipping her feet into her sandals. "Great. Just great."

Walking through the village was no less mortifying than the previous day. The dwarves were already gathering in the central plaza—a large, open space underneath an enormous glowing fissure that lit the space almost as well as if it were above ground. Most of the dwarves turned to look at Emily and Sigrid as they walked by, pointing and whispering to each other in low voices.

Fimbur led them to a slightly raised platform near the center of the plaza, indicating they should stand there. "For our penitent guests of honor," he explained.

Hundreds of amber eyes bore down on them, and Emily wished, not for the first time, that her hair was long enough to cover her butt—though she had not trimmed it since her arrival in Castle Elid, it still had a long way to go. She kept her gaze fixed in front of her, above the dwarves' eye level, her expression as neutral as she could make it. Beside her, Sigrid wore a permanent scowl, her jaw set, her knuckles white where she gripped her axe.

What made the whole thing worse was this raised platform stood exactly in line with another platform at the edge of the plaza, upon which Emily and Sigrid's cold hareskin outfits were lovingly arrayed. Emily had half a mind to make a dash for them, and could see that Sigrid was even more keen on the idea. She gave Sigrid a stern look, receiving a pout in return. Emily knew that Sigrid blamed her for their current predicament and wasn't exactly wrong to do so.

The ceremony began. Hodor, the orange-bearded leader, strode forward and took up a place next to the hareskins, bowing respectfully to them before turning to face the plaza. Silence fell over the assembled masses.

"Friends, clansmen, penitent guests," he began, casting a sharp look at Emily and Sigrid. "We are gathered here today to honor the lives of our fellow beings, and to mourn the tragedy of their vicious end."

Sigrid muttered something incoherent. Emily shushed her.

Unperturbed, Hodor continued his speech, his voice loud and resonant, echoing across the great plaza. He spoke of the interconnectedness of all life, of the special place nature provided for the cold hare, of the beauty of the songs they sang, and the grace of their movements.

"Their brief lives, though cruelly cut short," he continued, eliciting a grunt from Sigrid, "now contribute to the Great Cycle of All Things! Nothing dies! Nothing ends!"

Hodor waxed rhapsodic about the beauty and value of all life, quoting liberally from the sayings of Ignis Draken. He spoke with such conviction and heartfelt feeling that Emily felt a pang of guilt for wearing the hares' pelts as she had done. At the start of the ceremony, she had longed to wear the pelts again. Now, she felt that to do so would be akin to coating herself in the hares' blood.

Sigrid, Emily noticed, was also affected, though she tried to hide it. Her stony expression had softened, and her eyes were just a little bit watery. Emily couldn't help but smile at her companion's sentimental side.

Finally, Hodor's speech drew to a close. "The cold hares have joined the Cycle, as we all will. They go before us and we thank them for preparing the way. Nothing dies! Nothing ends!"

"Nothing dies! Nothing ends," the other dwarves chanted, their low, sonorous tones causing the rocks around them to vibrate. Across the plaza, all eyes were closed, and the chants slowly degenerated into a unified, hypnotic hum that made it impossible to think of anything else. For a time, Emily forgot her self-consciousness and felt herself swept away, caught up in the ritual.

But this was not to last. The hum quietened and then died away, and as Emily returned to herself, she felt the eyes of Hodor fall upon her and Sigrid. "Nothing dies and nothing ends, but the hares' time on this plain was unnaturally shortened by these surface dwellers, the selfsame ones who now seek an audience with Ignis Draken."

Shocked gasps broke out across the crowd, but were quickly muffled out of respect for the solemnity of the occasion. The attention of the entire plaza was now riveted on Emily and Sigrid, standing on the raised platform with only their arms to slightly, inadequately obscure their naked bodies.

"Let the appointed representative of the surface dwellers now come forward to speak her piece to the mortal remains."

Emily and Sigrid exchanged glances, and Emily knew at once that she was the appointed representative. "You got us into this mess," Sigrid seemed to say, using only her eyes. Glancing to her other side, Emily received an encouraging nod from Fimbur.

Taking a deep breath, Emily stepped off the raised platform and walked on shaking legs to the front of the plaza. Feeling eyes drilling into her back and rear, she tried to lessen the natural sway of her hips. How many times had she been in situations like this? When would it start to get easier? Apparently not yet.

Hodor stepped aside as she approached, motioning for her to take his place beside the table on which the hareskins lay. She turned to face the audience, gulping deeply.

"Place a hand on the hares," Hodor ordered under his breath.

Disobeying Hodor was not an option. Biting her lip, Emily removed a shaking arm from her breasts and reached for the hareskins. Their skin and what remained of their white fur was soft to the touch, and Emily wished more than anything that she could be wearing it again, right now, as the whole Klagstone Clan stared at her bare breasts.

Without warning, Hodor grabbed the wrist of her other hand and pulled it away from her crotch. "Stand respectfully," he growled.

And so Emily stood respectfully, fully exposed to whole plaza. She took a sharp intake of breath, resisting the urge to cover herself again. Since arriving in Thessolan, she had been inappropriately naked in more situations than she cared to count, but each one came with its own horrors. For this one, it was the vast sea of orange beards and beady eyes, so much more numerous than the monks, so much more human than the merfolk, focusing intently on her, waiting for her to speak. That perennial piece of public speaking advice, "imagine the audience naked," flitted briefly, ironically through her mind.

The silence was becoming deafening. She had to speak, to begin so that she could get this over with. "Umm," she began, her voice a mere squeak. She cleared her throat, smiled at the assembled dwarves, and tried again. "Elder Hodor... members of the Klagstone Clan... ladies and, uh, gentle... dwarves."



Her mind raced in search of her next words. All she had to do, she told herself, was give a speech that would convince the dwarves she and Sigrid were truly sorry for killing the cold-hares, and that they were worthy of seeing the stone dragon and taking the Heartflame. With no preparation. Naked.

She glanced down at the hareskins, and tried to imagine them as cute, frolicking bunnies rather than skimpy but much-missed garments. She thought of Hodor's words, all of his talk about their spirits and the eternal cycle.

"We," she began, then thought better of it. "Um... I... I didn't understand. I—we, we were cold and naked, in the Wastes, and we needed food and shelter. Coverings against the wind and snow. We... we respected the hares. Their bodies ensured our survival. My companion, Sigrid Wyrmtamer, she always, uh, says a prayer, uh, before she kills, and she hunts only out of necessity."

Sigrid frowned but said nothing. Emily grinned uneasily at her.

"We are forever in the debt of these beautiful animals," Emily continued. "They died that we might live and that the eternal cycle might continue! We carry their memories, and know that in some way, they live on through us!"

The dwarves said nothing. Emily was beginning to worry that this line of argument had been the wrong one to choose. In the back of her mind, she was already calculating which parts of the plaza might be most amenable to Bronzeband manipulation.

"I am truly sorry that I cannot offer more than this!" Emily exclaimed, extending her arms out in front of her, gesticulating passionately. "Perhaps there was a better way for us to survive in the frozen Cinder Wastes. Perhaps, had we known the great wisdom of Ignis Draken, we would have found another way that did not require the lamentable sacrifice of these fine animals."

It may have been her imagination, but Emily thought she saw the twitching beginnings of a smile appear at the corner of Hodor's mouth. She continued, cheeks burning. "Please believe me that we are truly penitent, t-truly humbled, as we stand n-naked before you all! Allow us to stand also before Ignis Draken so that we might learn from his great wisdom, and mend our wicked ways!"

Dwarves throughout the plaza were now whispering to each other and nodding their heads.

Emily smiled. "Nothing dies! Nothing ends!" she shouted, ending her speech with a deep bow.

After a long silence, Hodor addressed her. "Thank you, surface-dweller," he said. "Your words are clumsy, but the feeling behind them is genuine. We will allow you and your companion to see Ignis Draken."

Relief washed over Emily. She glanced at Sigrid, who looked genuinely surprised that Emily's speech had worked. She gave her a smug grin before turning back to Hodor. "Thank you, Elder," she said, bowing again.

"But first, we must complete the ceremony," Hodor added. "Take up the hares and bring them to their final resting place."

The final part of the ceremony consisted of Emily walking with Hodor, Sigrid, and a few other dwarves, through a winding tunnel, the hareskins draped over her forearms. The procession walked slowly, the dwarves carrying a long, low hum.

At the end of the winding tunnel was a sheer cliff. Far below, a stream of bright orange lava flowed and bubbled. Though the lava was far below them, it eminated such a powerful heat that Emily felt like she would sustain burns if she got any closer to the edge.

After a few ceremonial words in a language neither Emily nor Sigrid recognized, Hodor instructed Emily to throw the hareskins into the lava. This, apparently, was the fire dwarf version of burial.

Emily exchanged a glance with Sigrid, silently apologizing to her. Then, with a pang of regret, she flung their only clothing off the cliff and into the lava below, where it swiftly disappeared beneath the orange flow.

Hodor nodded his approval and led the procession back through the tunnel. But instead of returning to the plaza, he took a different route, separating from the other dwarves and beckoning Emily and Sigrid to follow him. "This way to the lair of Ignis Draken," he said.

Hodor led them down a smaller, clearly much less used tunnel, and they walked a long way in almost total silence, the only sound being the padding of their fiber sandals.

"Elder Hodor," Emily began, "do you... um, is it... appropriate... for us to appear before Ignis Draken without, uh... without any clothes on?"

"Ordinarily no," Hodor said, glancing back at them.

Sigrid breathed a deep sigh of relief. "So you'll find us something to wear?"

"There is a ceremonial outfit made for the purpose," Hodor said.

Emily smiled at Sigrid. A kilt, they could both agree, was better than nothing.

"But I think we will forgo that," Hodor continued. "You spoke so beautifully of your deep humility, Emily, and what could represent that better than being naked? Especially as you are still seeking penance from the sin that created your former coverings. Yes, I think Ignis Draken will appreciate the symbolism of your nudity."

Emily could hear Sigrid's hands tighten around the handle of her axe, and half expected its blade to come for her neck. She studiously avoided her companion's furious gaze, but nonetheless felt as though it was drilling a hole through her skin.

Before Emily or Sigrid could formulate a counterpoint to Hodor's proposal, he announced that they had reached the dragon's chamber. He gestured ahead, at a short tunnel that sloped gently upwards, lit by a white-gold glow.

"We have granted you an audience with Ignis Draken, but this does not guarantee he will speak to you," he said. "If he does, it may not be in a way you expect, for he lies in a state of deep, eternal slumber. Many have spent days inside his chamber without a single word."

Sigrid leaned close to Emily and whispered, "I had an inkling that there might be no challenge from a stone dragon. We shall have our pick of the treasure."

Hodor cleared his throat loudly before continuing. "Others have gone mad merely from being in the presence of Ignis Draken. Do not assume that because he slumbers, he is not fully aware of his visitors. Be respectful and do not attempt to harm or steal from him." He shot a cold look at Sigrid.

Emily led the way, her legs quivering with a mixture of fear and anticipation. She stepped out of the dark, and her body was bathed in the entrance tunnel's white-gold glow, a light that did not have an obvious source.

Sigrid made to follow her, but was stopped by a Hodor. "You'll have to leave that axe here," he said. "Lord Draken does not allow weapons in his chamber."

Emily stiffened, the muscles in her butt visibly clenching in anticipation of a violent outburst. To her great surprise, there was only the sound of a falling axe. She glanced over her shoulder, meeting Sigrid's sulky expression.

"No harm shall come to it," Hodor reassured her.

Sigrid grunted.

The two naked women walked up the gentle slope until it leveled out. They emerged onto a wide, circular ledge ringed an immense cavern, fully lit by the same white-gold light that seemed to have no source.

In the center lay Ignis Draken.

The petrified dragon was enormous, bigger than any creature Emily had ever seen in her life. And despite being made entirely of hard, gleaming obsidian, from the plates of his scaled hide to the massive horns on his head. He sat entirely still, a statue with smokey black clouds escaping gigantic nostrils.

The dragon lay atop a mountain of treasure—gold bars, gold and silver coins, jewels, and ornaments of all sizes, shapes, and colors. The sheer mass of it dwarfed even the enormity of the dragon, spread out and heaped up across the cave floor a few feet below the ledge where Emily and Sigrid now stood.

Sigrid let out a low whistle, the mass of treasure glinting in her eyes. "Maybe this was all worth it after all. All this treasure, guarded by a statue."

"Don't touch anything," Emily whispered sharply. "Just because something's made of stone doesn't mean it's not alive. In Thessolan, anyway. And I'm really not in the mood to fight a dragon."

"I am!" Sigrid retorted, putting up her fists. Then, apparently reminded of the absence of her axe, she blushed and dropped them back down to cover her body. "Well, I would be, anyway. If I weren't naked and weaponless. It's no fair you got to keep your weapons."

"My artifacts are not weapons," Emily shot back, placing a hand against the Stoneshell pendant.

<If only others thought as you do, little spark.>

"Whoa!" Emily shouted, clutching her temples.

Sigrid raised an eyebrow at her, confused.

"Did... did you not hear that?" Emily asked.

Sigrid shook her head.

<I am speaking only to you, Emily Stoneshell Bearer.>

The voice was deep and rich, clear and distinct from the sounds of the cave, the low rumbling of the volcano, the distant flow of magma, and the infrequent drips of water. It took Emily a moment to realize that it was not passing through her ears, but sounding directly inside her head.

"Are you... Ignis Draken?" she asked, fixing her eyes on the dragon's slumbering stone form.

<That is what the dwarves call me. I have gone by other names.>

"How do you know my name?"

"Who are you talking to?" Sigrid asked, growing ever more bewildered.

<I know many things, little spark, for I have lived a long time, and I have a great big head full of memories, as you can clearly see. But I have reserved a special place in my mind for you, as our destinies will shortly converge.>

"What...? How...? Why...?"

"That's what I wanna know too! Have you gone mad, Emily?"

"No, it's the dragon, he's talking to me. Inside my head."

<Come down from the ledge, Emily. Approach my body. Tell your companion to stay where she is.>

Emily did as she was instructed, much to Sigrid's chagrin. A rough stone staircase led down from the ledge to the cave floor. When Emily was halfway down, Sigrid moved to follow her, but was dissuaded by a sudden aggressive blast of flame from the stone dragon's nostril.

"Sigrid!" Emily chided.

"I'm stayin', I'm stayin'," she replied, muttering inaudibly to herself.

Emily reached the bottom of the stairs and continued her advance, her legs shaking uncontrollably. The smell of smoke was almost overpowering, and the dragon looked even larger, more menacing, from down below. A single move from a single claw would be enough to squash Emily's small, undefended body.

<Tell me, what is it that you seek here in the chamber of Ignis Draken?>



For a moment, Emily considered whether to tell the dragon the same thing she'd told the dwarves at the funeral for the hares: that she had come to seek his wisdom, or whether to tell the truth, that she was after the Heartflame. Something told her that it would not be advisable to tell lies to a being who could project his voice inside her mind. Could he read her thoughts? Was he doing so right now?

"I'm... I'm looking for the Heartflame," she said, her voice sounding weak and small. "I need it to break a curse that turned my friends to stone."

<Your friends do not like being made of stone?>

The color drained from Emily's face as she realized her obvious faux pas. "Uh, well, not, not that there's anything wrong with being made of stone! Just, uh, they were turned against their will! By an evil mage named Arctulus!"

<An evil mage named Arctulus, you say? It just so happens that I was turned to stone, at my request, by a good and selfless mage with that same name, Arctulus. That was many hundreds of years ago, long before the birth of those humans now living, so perhaps it was a different person. Unless... ah, but I see it in your face that it was not!>

At a loss for words, Emily let out a small "Eep!" Had she just torpedoed any chance of breaking the curse?

<Do not fret, tiny flame! Although it is a pleasure to see you squirm. The fashions of the outside world seem much more... minimal... than the last time I left this place. Did you really come all this way... just like that?>

Emily bit her lip, trying to think of the most diplomatic way to tell Ignis Draken, the pacifist, vegan dragon, that she had been wearing animal skins before but had now shorn them and was undergoing an extended act of penance for the crime of wearing them in the first place.

Before she had quite thought of what to say, the dragon's voice boomed in her head once more.

<Ah, well, that makes a lot more sense, then! I sense this gesture is not an easy one for you, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Entering my chamber in the skins of other creatures would have been... distasteful.>

Emily gasped. So he was reading her mind after all!

<You've had a very interesting journey in Thessolan, young Emily. The more I... learn about it, the more it intrigues me. I see why you would hold such disdain for the mage Arctulus, and I do not hold it against you, for you scorn him out of love for your dear friend Aria.>

Emily shivered involuntarily. She had stood naked before Lady Elara, King Trilato and Brother Kastor, and so many others, but she had always retained the privacy of her own thoughts. Now she stood before Ignis Draken, body and soul both bare to his disembodied gaze. That his enormous stone eyes remained closed was no consolation.

<When a mind as powerful as mine sits divorced of stimulation, in pure contemplation, for centuries, it develops certain powers. It may also forget certain manners. I apologize for my intrusion in your fascinating memories.>

A strange sense of peace washed over Emily. "Th-thank you."

<I believe your motivation for seeking the Heartflame is pure and selfless. Your companion... does not share this motivation. Even now, she takes inventory of my treasures.>

"I—she—"

<I have seen your travails together. I understand your... complicated feelings about her.>

A small jet of flame shot from one of the dragon's nostrils.

<I sense something else here. A third presence. Clinging to you. A darkness from the deep.>

Emily shivered involuntarily, a cold dread seeping into her despite the cavern's heat. A third presence? She had no idea what he was talking about. She glanced at the Stoneshell, then down at the Bronzeband, then back at the immobile stone dragon. Unless... could he mean...?

"N-nightmoss," Emily whispered, a sharp pain flashing through her temple. She remembered the disturbing dream she'd had in the Cinder Wastes.

<We all have our demons. Take care that yours do not overcome you, as mine did. Were I still a dragon of flesh and scale, I would have destroyed you and her and all that clings to you both.>

Emily's breath hitched in her throat.

<But I turned my back on those ways when I asked Arctulus to petrify me. This treasure... it is hateful to me. I do not care if your companion wants to take it. Let it become her burden, after I am gone.>

There was a strange poignancy in the final word. "Gone?"

Deep, rumbling laughter echoed in Emily's mind. <You are perceptive, my little spark. I spoke of the convergence of our destinies, and this is the crux of it. I will shortly be gone, for you have come to kill me.>

Emily stumbled backward in surprise, tripping over a tangled pile of necklaces and falling onto her backside, her fall broken by a pile of gold coins.

<What do you think the Heartflame is, Emily?>

[FinchAgent]

Mind reeling, Emily pushed herself up, the edges of the coins pressing into her bare thighs. She stared up at the immense, still form of the stone dragon. Had she misheard? No—there was no mishearing speech that bypassed her ears to enter her mind directly.

"K—kill you?" she whispered, still unbelieving. "No. I could never!"

<You can and you will, little spark.> There was a profound weariness in the voice now. <If you are to take the Heartflame from this place, I will not survive. For it is my heart, beating within my obsidian chest.>

"What are you talking about?" Sigrid yelled from the ledge. "What's he telling you?"

Emily ignored her, her gaze locked on the dragon's motionless stone form. Beyond the immediate horror of killing a creature who had shown no malice to her, there was the absurdity of it. "I came here to save my friends, not to commit murder," she said in a low voice.

"That makes one of us!" Sigrid shouted. "Is the dragon challenging you to a duel? He'll have to let me fetch Grognak if he wants a fight!"

A low, rumbling chuckle echoed through Emily's mind. <I admire the sentiment in your words, Stoneshell Bearer. Ignis Draken does not condone the murder of innocents, the wanton and unnecessary shedding of blood.>

"I knew there had to be another way," Emily said hopefully.

<Ignis Draken does not condone the murder of innocents. But before I was Ignis Draken, I was murder incarnate, fire and ruin. I devoured armies and laid waste to kingdoms. The treasure that forms my bed is all that remains of the uncountable lives I destroyed.>

Emily's mind was suddenly full of terrible images, of great fires sweeping across landscapes, of the screams of soldiers, and the terrified running of unarmed villagers. All this she saw through the dragon's eyes, each screaming face framed by a blast of fire from the dragon's snout. Entire cities burned to the ground in her mind's eye.

<Have you seen enough yet? That is but the merest fraction of the destruction I wrought over centuries! When I finally came to see it for what it was, saw beyond the haze of my own hunger, my own twisted drive for destruction, I vowed never to harm another soul and sought out the means to quell my terrible hunger.>

Tears poured from Emily's eyes as the awful visions continued.

<I attempted to subsist on a diet of plant stuff and lichen, but it slowly starved me. By the third month, the immense hunger drove me back to my old ways, and, in a fit of rage, I destroyed the village of Iltar. That was when I knew I could not continue living as I had, that as long as I drew breath, I would hunger for the destruction of lives.>

The images in Emily's mind shifted to scenes of an emaciated, weak Ignis Draken munching unenthusiastically on a tree branch. Then the visions shifted again, and she saw a tall, thin, bald human dressed in the crimson robes of Eyri Abbey standing in this very cave—at once, she knew this was Arctulus.

<Petrification was the perfect solution. It allowed me to lie still, free of hungers, with centuries to contemplate my crimes. But it was not a permanent solution.>

"W-why not?" Emily asked, rising to her feet. Coins clinked on the ground as they fell from her body.

<You have felt the unnatural cold that now envelops the Cinder Wastes. It is gaining rapidly now, coming closer to this very chamber. When it reaches me, the intense cold will shatter my obsidian shell and release the dragon within. Nature abhors an imbalance.>

Emily racked her brain, attempting to remember science lessons from school, unconvinced that cold weather alone could shatter obsidian.

<You have come from another place, where the forces of nature and magic are not as they are in Thessolan. You will have to take me at my word.>

Emily blushed, then scowled. "Hey, didn't you say you were going to stop reading my mind!"

<I did. My apologies. But let us not stray from the topic at hand. The cold in the Cinder Wastes approaches, threatening to awaken the stone dragon. But this will not happen, for the Heir of Evangeline, the Stoneshell Bearer, will take the dragon's life before he wakes.>

"He's reading your mind?!" Sigrid yelled. "Don't let him manipulate you, Emily!" Heedless of retaliation, she bounded down the rough staircase and ran towards Emily.

<Your companion is very spirited.>

A sharp, focused jet of smoke shot from the dragon's nostril, slamming into the rocky surface beneath Sigrid's sandals. The rock glowed cherry-red for an instant, and one sandal caught alight. Sigrid yelped in surprise, instantly leaping backward and stamping her foot down to put out the fire before it consumed her only clothing. She shook her fist at the dragon, scowling, but did not attempt to come any closer.

"I thought you were a pacifist," Emily said.

<Sadly, the language of violence is the only language some people understand.>

Emily held her tongue.

<She must not interfere. This matter is between us.>

"I feel like Sigrid would probably be more willing to kill you than I am, though," Emily said wryly.

"Aye!" Sigrid yelled.

<That is the very reason she cannot be allowed to do it. It is you, Emily, who must be responsible for my death.>

"But, but!" Emily's throat felt horribly dry.

<By ending my life, you will prevent my reawakening, and the countless deaths that will ensue. You will restore balance to the wastes. You will acquire the Heartflame, and the means to save your friends. If you do not do this, not only will you fail your quest, but you will be the cause of untold destruction.>

"That's—that's—" Emily's whole body flushed red with anger. "You can't put that on me! I'm not responsible for the actions of others!"

<Perhaps not, but these will be the outcomes. You must choose.>

Emily glanced back at Sigrid, whose eyes told her to kill the dragon. Typical Sigrid. She looked back at Ignis Draken, the immense mound of obsidian scales before her. She could not fault his words, though she desperately wanted to. And the summer solstice was mere hours away. She thought of Aria and the other statues. She thought of everything that had happened to her in Thessolan, of the trials she'd endured to retrieve the other two ingredients. Finally, she thought of the terrible images that Ignis Draken had projected into her head.

Fresh tears welled in Emily's eyes as she asked, voice shaking, "How? How do I do it?"

<Although the stone that forms my body is hard and dense, there is a weakness in my chest, on the far side. Climb over my body, find the weakness, and open my chest. There, you will find the Heartflame.>

"Climb?" Emily looked up at the dragon's immense obsidian form, dark and shining, each scale almost the length of her own body.

<You have the power to mold stone, from the artifact you wear on your ankle. Treat my scales as you would a cliff-face—do not worry, you will not hurt me. Not until you reach the other side. Then I expect you will hurt me very much indeed.>

Emily glanced back at Sigrid, who stood in a fighter's crouch, seemingly ready to pounce on the sleeping dragon and begin pummelling it with her fists. "Stay there," she said. "I'm—I'm going to fetch the Heartflame."

Sigrid nodded curtly, remaining in her defensive crouch.

Turning her back on her companion, Emily approached Ignis Draken. With a trembling hand, she reached out and touched his scaled leg, which was smooth and cool—much cooler than the surrounding cave.

The glass-like surface was not greatly amenable to climbing, and Emily struggled briefly to find purchase on it with her hands and feet. She would need to use the Bronzeband. Focusing on it, she willed the obsidian scales to crack and deform, forming holds for her hands and feet.

<That tickles! Well, not really. I don't feel a thing. Much like your friend Aria.>

Emily slid off her dwarven sandals, knowing that her bare feet would provide greater purchase for the climb. She secured herself on the initial holds and reached for the jutting edge of a scale. As she moved up, she couldn't help but think of how Richard had used the Bronzeband to reshape Aria's gown and even to trap her. This was the first time Emily had used the Bronzeband's power on living stone.

On the way up the dragon's leg, Emily used the Bronzeband as sparingly as she could, preferring to reach for the natural holds that the edges of the scales provided. Adrenaline pushed her upward and onward, and her body was soon slick with sweat in the cave's sauna-like heat.

The way became easier as she crested the dragon's shoulder, allowing her to crawl and then to walk once she reached the dragon's back. The heat intensified as she continued towards the Heartflame, negating the strange coolness of the dragon's scales, which soon warmed Emily's soles.

On the other side of the dragon's back, she began the descent down his shoulder and then followed the crick of his elbow. This side was far less steep, as the dragon's foreleg rested on a massive pile of gold.

Looking back at the dragon's form, she knew she had found what she was after.

On the side of his massive chest, at the place where two enormous obsidian scales met, a large spiraling whorl indented the stone. Golden light—the same light that suffused the cave—emanated from its center.

<Therein lies the Heartflame.>

Without warning, the scales shifted beneath her feet, and Emily dropped into a crouch, clinging onto the scales. The dragon's foreleg was moving, pressing itself up against the dragon's body, so close that Emily could reach out and touch the glowing whorl.

<Sorry. I might have warned you I was about to move. But perhaps some part of me wished to throw you off and crush you, Stoneshell Bearer. A small part of me. One that does not wish to die.>

Emily felt sick. She had kept the thought of what she was about to do away from the front of her mind, by focusing on the climb, but now there was nothing else to think about. Not when the Heartflame, the final ingredient, the object of her quest, was separated from her by a thin layer of obsidian.

<You know what you must do. Open my chest. Retrieve the Heartflame. Complete your mission. Release me.>

Emily stood up and pressed a hand against the whorl, slowly caressing it. She could feel the Heartflame's heat and felt it resonating with the Stoneshell, which glowed orange against her chest.

<I count myself lucky, to be killed by the gentle touch of a beautiful, naked maiden. Few other dragons can say the same. Goodbye, Emily.>

Without even consciously deciding to do it, Emily found that she was willing the obsidian wall of the dragon's chest to open, that she was willing the Heartflame to come towards her, to join with the Stoneshell. Her palm was flat against the center of the whorl now, and she could feel the obsidian warp and crumble beneath her touch. She closed her eyes, thinking of Aria, and of Brom and Jivaro, and all the other statues she would restore to life by ending the life of this one.

Resistance came with a low, grating sound that filled the cavern. The dragon's form shuddered violently, and Emily's mind was flooded with cries of protest. The whole cave began to shake, pieces of the rocky ceiling falling in clouds of dust. Emily dug her toes into the dragon's scales, crouching down to maintain her balance while still pressing into the whorl with her right hand.

<Stop! Stop! It hurts!>

Emily drew a sharp breath and closed her eyes tighter, trying to shut out the tears.

<No! Don't stop! You must continue!>

Emily gritted her teeth and pressed her hand deeper into the crumbling rock, her muscles screaming in protest. Sweat poured down her face and body, every fiber of her being focused on the stone between her and the Heartflame.

Finally, when Emily had pushed her arm wrist-deep into the stone surface, there was a loud click, and conflicted screams in her head ceased. The scales around the whorl retracted, almost mechanically, like the iris of a colossal eye, almost causing Emily to fall forward from the suddenness of the release.

Stumbling but catching herself, Emily looked up to see a gaping cavity in the dragon's chest. In the middle of this cavity, suspended in the shimmering, superheated air, beat a solid, head-sized orb of orange fire: the Heartflame.



Even from a few yards away, Emily could feel the orb's immense heat blast her skin. She was used to heat from the Stoneshell, but this was a stronger, harsher heat, which she knew would be dangerous to her if she got much closer. How, then, was she to take the Heartflame back to Paja Abbey?

"Emily! Are you there?" cried a voice from above. "What happened? I felt the cave shake!"

Emily looked up to see Sigrid adorned with golden jewelry, wrapped in a purple rug. But most noticeably, she was floating in midair, above the Heartflame.

"I didn't know you could fly!" Emily shouted up at her.

"It's this rug!" she replied, tugging at her coverings and beaming. "Provides both modesty and the power of flight! It's keeping me cool too! I'll see if I can find you one!" As if to demonstrate the rug's powers, Sigrid swooped down closer to the Heartflame and then did a loop in the air.

"That's amazing, Sigrid, but I think it's loose!" Emily shouted.

"Oh Frostfang!" Sigrid shouted, the color fading from her face as her makeshift garment slid down her body. She snatched at the edge of the rug but was not quick enough to arrest its fall. Her eyes went wide as she watched it plunge towards the Heartflame.



No longer in possession of the rug's power of flight, Sigrid also fell, towards the Heartflame, her body instinctively curling into a tight ball.

Emily screamed, instinctively pulling a shaft of obsidian from the dragon's body in a desperate attempt to intercept Sigrid's fall. But her pull was too wild and imprecise—chunks of obsidian broke off the dragon's body and fell in every direction.

At the same time, Emily heard a horrified scream and then felt a sudden hard presence crash into her. She lost her balance, falling with the thing that had hit her, tumbling down, down, off the stone dragon's forearm and into a giant pile of gold coins.

When the world stopped spinning, Emily found herself looking directly into a pair of bright green eyes. The parts of her body that did not have bits of coin and jewelry poking into them were pressed against something warm and, while not exactly soft, not particularly hard either.

"Are you hurt, Emily?" Sigrid asked.

Nothing felt broken. "I don't think so."

Sigrid swiftly got to her feet and then helped Emily up. She was bedecked in almost enough jewelry to cover her nudity.

"You're not going to be able to take that stuff when we teleport," Emily said. "Unless some of it's enchanted, I guess."

Sigrid's hands were shaking, a tremor running through her powerful arms. She stared up at the Heartflame. "The heat," she whispered, her voice rough. "I felt it... even from that far. It would have..." She didn't finish the sentence, just shuddered and forced herself to look away, her gaze landing on the pile of treasure.

Emily looked up at the spot where they'd fallen from and saw the purple rug was hanging in mid-air, draped over the Heartflame. She had expected it to burn up on contact, but clearly one of its enchantments was resistance to extreme heat.

"I need to go fetch it," said Emily.

"The rug?" Sigrid asked. "Good idea, I'm feeling a little exposed down here."

Emily cocked an eyebrow. "Not for you to wear—for us to carry the Heartflame!"

"Oh, is that what that orb of death was?"

Emily nodded. "It seems like the rug you found can withstand it though."

Sigrid sighed deeply. "I guess I'll see if I can find something else to wear, then."

Emily was already climbing up the dragon's stone forearm, and soon found the spot where she'd been standing before. The immense heat and light from the Heartflame was entirely concealed beneath the purple rug, allowing Emily to reach for it without burning her hands or even feeling its heat at all. As her fingers pressed into the soft purple fibers of the rug, she paused for a moment.

<Thank you, Emily Stoneshell Bearer. Do not... do not give in to your shadow.>

There was an air of finality in the voice that spoke inside her head. Emily pulled the wrapped-up orb towards her body, knowing that Ignis Draken would not speak to her again. As a profound silence fell within her mind, a new sound reached her from the world outside: a distant, angry shout echoing from the tunnel entrance far behind Sigrid.

Emily found Sigrid digging through the dragon's hoard, trying to fit extra bracelets on her arms and legs. "Let's go," she said, clutching the orb to her body. It felt weightless, still floating under its own power, like a day-old helium balloon.



"Mmph mmph mmph," Sigrid replied, cheeks bulging.

"What?"

Sigrid spat out a load of gold coins. "I said, I'm still looking for something for us to wear. Sure you can't spare that rug?"

Emily recalled the heat of the raw Heartflame. "Yeah, I'm sure. Not super happy about it myself. You know how nice it would have been to have an enchanted flying rug the first time I teleported somewhere?"

The sounds of voices and clanging metal from the tunnel entrance were getting closer, reminding Emily they had more pressing things to worry about than clothing.

"Sigrid, did you hear that?" Emily urged, her eyes darting towards the entrance.

As if in reply, a loud cry bellowed from the cave's entrance. "Thieves! Murderers!"

It was Hodor, and he was running towards them, brandishing Grognak. "How dare you defile the chamber of Ignis Draken!"

Behind him, a hoard of fire dwarves rushed into the cave, brandishing pickaxes, torches, and other weapons. A volley of arrows sailed over Emily and Sigrid's heads.

Emily looked at Sigrid. "We really need to go." Clutching the wrapped-up Heartflame against her side, she prepared herself to teleport to Paja Abbey.

Sigrid, however, was rushing straight towards Hodor, her face red with rage.

"Sigrid, no!" Emily shouted, sprinting after her.

"Nobody but me wields Grognak!" Sigrid shouted, wrestling the axe from Hodor and flinging him into a pile of treasure, where he landed with an anguished groan. "We can go now," she said to Emily, axe gripped tightly in both hands.

Emily grabbed Sigrid's wrist and shouted, "Paja Abbey!"

The two women went up in flames, disappearing a moment before a second volley of arrows sailed through the spot they had just vacated.

The world reformed, and Emily stumbled forward onto a deep, soft carpet. The sulfurous stench of the Crucible was gone, replaced by the familiar, comforting scent of old books. She was still clutching the rug-wrapped Heartflame, steadying herself against its floating mass.

Beside her, Sigrid dropped into a defensive crouch, Grognak held ready. Her eyes darted around the library suspiciously. A few of her golden treasures—clearly enchanted—had made the journey with them, though not nearly all she had tried to take. "Where in the Frostfang's frozen hells are we?" she growled.

"Paja Abbey," Emily breathed, a wave of exhaustion so profound washing over her that her knees buckled. "We made it out."

"Emily!" came a bright, relieved voice. "We were starting to worry!"

Sigrid spun instantly, leveling Grognak towards the source of the voice. Aria and Talyndra stood near a large table. Talyndra, grinning, raised one hand in a placating gesture, while her other hand hovered at the hilt of her twin swords. Behind her, Aria's face broke into a wide smile.

Sigrid's eyes flicked from the green-skinned wood elf to the statue with a moving face. "Right," she muttered, lowering her axe slightly. "You did mention a living statue."

"It is so good to see you again, safe and sound!" Aria's eyes were fixed on the bundle in Emily's arms. "Is that...?"

Emily nodded, pushing the wrapped-up Heartflame in front of her. "It's wrapped up in this magic rug. Be careful though, it's really, really hot."

Aria moved forward to take the bundle. The moment it left Emily's hands, she staggered, almost falling, but for Sigrid's steadying arm. "That teleportation must take it out of you," she said. "And after opening a dragon's chest!"

"What?!" Talyndra exclaimed. "A dragon! You have to tell us what happened!"

Emily smiled weakly, barely able to keep her eyes open.

"I am certain Emily will have much to tell us once she is properly rested," Aria said, pushing the Heartflame towards a table that also held a pail of sparkling Azure Essence and the Shard of True Reflection. "I am heartbroken that I was not able to accompany her on this latest journey, but she appears to have found very capable help."

Sigrid met Aria's gaze and nodded, blushing slightly. "Sigrid Wyrmtamer, at your service."

Talyndra reappeared with a couple of clean monk's robes slung over one arm. She handed one to Sigrid and slipped the other over Emily's shoulders.

"All three ingredients are now assembled," said Aria, gazing at the three magical objects. "The ritual will begin at dawn."

"Dawn..." Emily repeated, the word sounding distant.

Sigrid gave a low whistle, patting Emily on the shoulder. "You rest up, Em. I'll ask your friends if they have any good grub." She glanced down at a jewel-bedecked necklace that had survived the teleportation. "I'm not sure this quest was quite worth it, but it was certainly interesting. Next time, let's do it with our clothes on the whole time, okay?"

"I can't promise anything," Emily sighed, pulling the sides of her robe over herself. "Except solidarity."

[Freesub]

As much as I’ve enjoyed this story, I would love if, at some point, Emily would meet somebody who doesn’t really care about modesty. It almost seemed like this barbarian lady would be that if she’s usually going around in just a bikini, but no.

My sole excuse for this is that I found the idea of a barbarian who customarily goes around in bikini armor being really embarrassed about full nudity to be funny.

Ice and fire is poetic.

I think so too!

Loved the latest chapters. The forced but kind of voluntary nudity was great.

Also, can we get an image of Sigrid's butt clenching like it is described

Also the white pubic hair above sigrid's pussy was a nice touch

[student]

You did it! You made me mourn the death of a dragon.