Evening, The Gates of Ember Peaks
The mountain loomed before them, its jagged peaks glowing with the last light of the setting sun. The great gates of Ember Peaks—carved directly into the stone—rose high above, lined with watchtowers where archers and sentries stood ready. Even from a distance, Delwyn could see the banners of the rebellion snapping in the cold wind.
This was not a hidden camp or a crumbling ruin. This was a stronghold. A city.
As they approached, the gates rumbled open, revealing a massive tunnel leading into the mountain. The road was lined with dwarven stonework, ancient carvings telling stories of wars long past. They passed through the grand entrance into the heart of Ember Peaks, where the cavernous city unfolded before them.
It was unlike anything Delwyn had ever seen.
Elves moved with grace along high walkways, their armor gleaming in the torchlight. Dwarven smiths worked their forges, hammering weapons that would soon be used against Galborn's forces. Human warriors trained in the courtyards, their shouts ringing through the air. Merchants called out their wares, banners of different noble houses and rebel factions hanging from the walls.
The rebellion wasn't a desperate band of outcasts. It was an army.
Joren let out a low whistle. "I was expecting a dying fortress, not a damn kingdom."
Mira smirked. "I told you the rebellion wasn't just scraps in the dirt."
Vaelor said nothing, his gaze flicking from the high towers to the deep tunnels, scanning every shadow.
Delwyn exhaled. "Let's find out who's running this place."
****
The group was led through the city, past stone bridges and spiralling staircases that descended deep into the mountain. At the centre of it all lay the Hall of the Council, a vast chamber lit by enchanted braziers and lined with banners from every faction in the rebellion.
There, standing in a half-circle around a great stone war table, were the leaders of Ember Peaks.
Lord Edric Valmere, a human noble with sharp eyes and silver-streaked hair, once loyal to the fallen king, now one of the rebellion's strongest commanders.
Lady Sylwen Aeloris, an elven strategist, clad in flowing battle robes, her calculating gaze studying them as if she already knew their every move.
High Thane Gundrik Ironbane, a broad-shouldered dwarf with a braided beard and a glare like a sharpened axe.
More were gathered—generals, advisors, commanders.
Delwyn and her group stepped forward, battle-worn and weary.
The moment they entered, the council's murmurs stopped. Eyes settled on Delwyn.
Edric Valmere was the first to break the silence. He studied her with knowing eyes, then exhaled. "So, you've finally arrived."
Delwyn frowned. "You were expecting us?"
Sylwen's gaze didn't waver. "Not all of you. Just you, Delwyn Aldsund."
A chill ran down Delwyn's spine. "You know who I am?"
Gundrik let out a gruff chuckle. "Aye, girl. The name Aldsund still holds weight, even up in these mountains. Some think you should've been here sooner."
Delwyn straightened, ignoring the exhaustion pressing down on her. "I didn't exactly have a map leading me here."
Edric folded his arms. "We've had eyes watching the roads, waiting for signs of you. We knew you survived Blackreach. We knew you fled."
Sylwen's gaze darkened slightly. "And we know who saved you."
The council's eyes turned to Vaelor.
Vaelor didn't flinch, but Delwyn could feel the tension rolling off him.
Gundrik grunted. "It's not every day someone breaks into Blackreach and steals the King's prize."
Delwyn's breath caught. "Prize?"
Sylwen's voice was cold. "You were Galborn's personal guard, were you not? His loyal hound."
The words stung. Delwyn's fists clenched. "I was his bodyguard. Nothing more."
Edric exhaled. "To you, maybe. To him? You were something else."
Delwyn had no answer to that.
Mira finally spoke, breaking the heavy silence. "Is this an interrogation or a strategy meeting?"
Edric let the moment hang before nodding. "You've come with warnings. But I wonder if you've come with solutions."
It was then that Gundrik grumbled, glancing at Sylwen. "Might as well show them. They'll find out soon enough."
Delwyn frowned. "Show us what?"
Edric gestured toward one of the passageways leading deeper into the mountain. "Come. There is something you need to see."
****
They followed the council through winding stone tunnels, descending deeper than they had before. The air grew warmer, thick with the scent of metal and something else—something ancient.
They emerged into a massive cavern, glowing with torchlight and carved with intricate runes. And at the centre, resting upon a raised platform of stone, lay something that should not exist.
A dragon.
It was massive, its scales dark as iron, its breath slow and deep. Its wings were folded tight, the edges scarred from old battles. Around it, elves, dwarves, and humans worked in careful precision, tending to its needs—bringing food, reinforcing the runes that lined the cavern.
Elias took a step back. "You've got to be joking."
Mira exhaled sharply. "Holy shit."
Delwyn, absolutely stunned, blinked at the massive creature before her. Finally, the words tumbled from her lips:
"Is that a fucking dragon?!"
Gundrik smirked. "Aye. And not just any dragon. The last of its kind."
Edric stepped forward. "It has been hidden here for years, kept safe from Galborn's reach."
Sylwen folded her arms. "But keeping it secret is no longer an option."
Delwyn took a slow step forward, her eyes locked onto the beast, his expression unreadable.
The dragon's head shifted. It opened one large golden eye
The air grew heavy, charged with something unseen.
The dragon was looking directly at Delwyn.
And then, it growled, deep and low.
Deep, ancient, and knowing.
Like old friends…
To be continued… Delwyn and the rebellion will return.