“The end of a hard journey is like waking up after a long sleep.” excerpt from the journal of an Althalion monk.

  Savrassa gathered her eggs up from a backpack looted off of one of the bodies of the men they’d slain in battle. Garassk watched her for a moment before turning back to Rathorn. The older varanian hunched over the wounded survivors.

  “Your master is dead,” he growled. “And you’re in no shape to fight anymore. So here’s how this is going to go: we’re going to leave this space now, and you’re not going to follow us. Once help arrives, you’re going back to your homes, and leaving us alone. You will never hear from us again. If you try to take revenge, we’ll finish you off. Is that clear?”

  The survivors nodded their heads aggressively. Satisfied, Garassk went back for Drakkill’s head. He thought he heard a few of the men question what he was doing, but didn’t bother to answer. He worked his way back into the ruins, stopping only when he reached the altar. He could feel a hunger that wasn’t his own with each step he took.

  “As promised,” he said, dropping the head on the altar. “A sacrifice. My thanks for getting us through the battle.”

  The hunger began to abate. He turned and walked off to reunite with Savrassa and Rathorn.

  “This way,” Rathorn grunted, motioning away from where they’d entered.

  “Why are you whispering?” Savrassa asked.

  “Because don’t want what’s left of Drakkill’s men hearing us. We might have cowed them, but I don’t want to risk the possibility of them seeking revenge.”

  “Understood,” Savrassa replied. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The three of them slithered out through a maze, Rathorn seemed to know where he was going, so the younger two followed, trusting that he had found another way out at some point. Garassk was about to question their directions before he noticed a faint hint of sunlight seeping from a crack on a wall in front of them.

  “So now what?” he asked as they stopped in front of the wall.

  “Let’s see here,” Rathorn muttered, kneeling. “We have made offerings. We have honored your home. But now it is time for us to leave. We thank you for your hospitality, whoever you are, and we ask for a way out.”

  He got up, and the three of them waited. After a few minutes, Garassk prepared to ask what was supposed to happen, but the light from the crack seemed to grow. He turned to see a doorway in front of them.

  “How…?” he asked.

  “Don’t ask, just go,” Rathorn grunted, limping forward. Once his frame no longer occupied the exit, Savrassa and Garassk followed.

  All three of them had to take a moment to adjust to the blinding light. Once his eyes adjusted, Garassk looked around. He could clearly tell that they were on the other side of the ruins. Rathorn motioned with his tail where to move. They followed silently. Rathorn would turn and look back occasionally, but said nothing until they couldn’t see the ruins anymore.

  “Now then,” he started. “Savrassa, do you have any idea where we can go from here?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “We’re far off the path. But based on memory, I believe that way is our best bet.”

  She pointed east.

  “That way it is, then,” Rathorn grunted. “Lead the way.”

  Despite her hesitation, Savrassa pressed on, occasionally flicking her tongue out to figure out which way to go. Garassk observed the forest as they moved.

  The further they got, the more the trees began to crowd the area. The three of them finally stopped when they noticed the ground getting softer under their feet.

  “We’re nearing the swamp,” Garassk whispered.

  “We did it,” Savrassa squeaked. “We made it. We’re safe!”

  “Not yet,” Rathorn said. “We still need to reach the other varanians.”

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  Despite the warning, all three of them moved with confidence. The swampland alone instilled them with a sense of ease. The scent of wildlife helped. Where there were animals, varanians were sure to dwell.

  The sun had started to set when Savrassa motioned for them to stop. Garassk flicked his tongue out to find a scent, but came up short.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “We’re not alone,” Savrassa whispered. She took a deep breath and let out a caw. After a moment’s silence, several others answered her from a distance.

  “Finally,” Garassk breathed. He began to taste the scent of other varanians as they drew closer. He felt a surge of relief when he finally saw them approaching. They were clearly fit from a life of hunting and (probably) fighting, but they were currently approaching with the intent to talk.

  “Who are you?” their leader asked in a firm but diplomatic tone. “And where did you come from?”

  “Is this Blackslough?” Savrassa asked.

  “It is,” the leader replied. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I come from Pullvair,” she answered. “I was seeking safe passage here. These two are my guides.”

  “Pullvair has been conquered,” Garassk stepped in to explain. “Savrassa here was seeking refuge from Lord Drakkill. All we ask is that you let Savrassa in.”

  “We had heard rumors of what had happened in Pullvair,” the leader said. “We certainly respect hospitality and the need of fellow varanians for safe passage. But why should we do so now? Surely Lord Drakkill could come for us.”

  “He’s dead,” Rathorn growled. “He tried to kill us on the way over.”

  “And more importantly, my children need a home,” Savrassa said, taking a few of her eggs out of her backpack. “I couldn’t let them hatch to become slaves. This was the only land where I knew I could go.”

  The other varanians’ expressions softened.

  “Times are hard, and extra mouths to feed is always a gamble,” the leader said. “But we will never turn away children. Come. Let us get you comfortable, and your children acclimated to their new home.”

  “Thank you,” Savrassa sighed.

  “And you two are welcome to rest for as long as you like,” one of the others said to Garassk and Rathorn. “It sounds like you had a long journey to get here.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Garassk yawned. “Thank you.”

  The Blackslough varanians led the three of them into their home. The huts and interconnecting bridges stood tall on stilts partially submerged in water. A larger hut was at the very center. Garassk could tell that that was where they were headed.

  Every varanian in the village stared at them as they moved past, but none of them gave off the impression of hostility. It was only once the guards saw them approaching the hut that someone let out a warning hiss and raised spears to block entry.

  “They’re with us,” the leader of the scouts said. The guards stared at them for a few moments before pulling their weapons back. Garassk watched the door behind them creak open. A loud snag signaled that the door would go no further, and the guards waved them in. He sauntered into the room, not entirely sure what awaited them on the other side.

  A large shape unfurled in front of them as they walked in. Once the head fully turned, Garassk realized that it was a varanian elder. A second one loomed in the background.

  “It seems we have visitors,” the one in the front hissed. “Why have you brought these strangers into our home, Salvoth?”

  “They come with eggs, Krathar,” the leader, Salvoth, apparently, replied. “It appears that Pullvair is no longer safe.”

  “Explain,” the larger varanian, Krathar, commanded.

  “I am the reason for all of this,” Savrassa said, stepping forward. “I have need of a safe haven. For I have lain eggs, and I do not wish for them to hatch in a land where they would be slaves or killed.”

  All eyes turned toward her.

  “I am Savrassa of Pullvair,” she continued. “And I need a new home. Pullvair had recently lost a war against a rival lord. The local varanians have been worked to death or executed outright. I alone could escape, and I have.”

  She held out one of her eggs for the elders to see.

  “I was to lay eggs soon,” she went on. “But I couldn’t let them hatch as slaves.”

  Garassk noticed the elders move their heads a bit at that. He wasn’t sure if they were convinced, but Savrassa clearly had their attention.

  “So I did what I had to do. I fled,” Savrassa continued. “These two helped me. But now we are at your mercy. I cannot speak to the wishes of my companions, but all I ask is a new home. It’s not an unreasonable request, given what I’ve been through.”

  She stopped talking and looked up at the elders. Garassk heard the faint rumble of the elders breathing as they took in the information. Krathar closed his eyes and let out a deep breath before opening them again.

  “Very well,” he said. “The story you tell is a fascinating one. You will be granted a home here. Your escorts can stay for at least one night. I imagine there’s more to tell, and I want them to explain.”

  The three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

  “But that can wait,” the second elder said, slithering forward. “We were preparing for a hunt. Now it shall be a welcoming feast. Join us and prove your worth, if you dare!”

  “Thank you,” Garassk said, bowing. “We won’t abuse your hospitality.”

  “Good,” the second elder said, using her tail to point toward the door. “Now get out there and bring us a feast!”

  Garassk turned to Savrassa.

  “Looks like we’re almost done here,” he said.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “Thank you, I couldn’t have gotten here without you.”

  “All in a day’s work,” Garassk said. “Now let’s get out there. Dinner isn’t going to catch itself.”