Entry 45: The truth

Dear Diary,
 
Morning arrived with a quiet hum, the kind of stillness that felt like the world holding its breath. Dlardrageth returned, his silvered form gleaming faintly in the early light. His expression was softer, contemplative. “I communed with Queen Titania in her dreams last night,” he announced, his deep voice resonating with purpose. “We’ve decided—the curse must be removed.”
 
The weight of those words settled on me as we climbed the spiraling staircase to the bedroom at the tower’s summit. The air grew heavier with each step, anticipation thick in the silence. When we reached the queen’s chamber, I approached the bed cautiously, the potion cradled in my hands like fragile glass. Titania lay as still as a painting, her beauty faded but unmistakable, locked in the cruel grip of time and magic.
 
With a steady hand, I tilted the potion to her lips, the liquid glinting faintly as it disappeared into her mouth. For a moment, nothing happened, and my heart lurched with doubt. But then, color began to bloom in her cheeks like dawn breaking over the horizon. Her pale skin warmed, her breathing deepened, and her eyes fluttered as if waking from a centuries-long slumber.
 
She stirred, her movements slow and dreamlike, and her gaze—dazed but sharp—landed on me. Confusion flickered across her face, and she murmured something in elven, the melody of the words foreign to my ears. When it became clear I didn’t understand, she switched to common. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice soft but steady, like a breeze brushing through the trees.
 
Before I could speak, Dlardrageth stepped forward, his presence commanding yet tender. Her gaze shifted to him, and the room seemed to hold its breath again. The dragon—once her lover, I realized—lowered his great head to hers, his voice a low rumble of reverence. Their reunion was a silent exchange of unspoken words, a meeting of souls bound by love and time.
 
When her eyes returned to me, the confusion in them softened. “Who are you?” she repeated, this time with curiosity rather than suspicion.
 
I kept my answer brief, the gravity of the moment pressing down on me. “We’re travelers, enemies of High King Ulther,” I said, my voice steady. “I was the one who broke the curse that kept you in this state for so long.”
 
Titania studied me for a moment that felt like eternity, and I took a step back, giving her space. Whatever words needed to pass between her and Dlardrageth, they were not meant for us. “Come,” I urged my companions, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s give them some time.”
 
One by one, we slipped out of the chamber, leaving the queen and her dragon to reunite in the quiet intimacy of the tower’s stillness. Whatever came next, we had played our part. For now, the rest was theirs.
 
The queen’s gratitude was warm, her voice carrying a regal strength despite her fragile state. She placed a hand over mine briefly, her touch soft but meaningful, before Dlardrageth scooped her up in his powerful arms. His movements were careful,
almost reverent, as he carried her toward the balcony. Without a word, he leapt into the air, his form shimmering mid-flight as he transformed back into his majestic dragon self. Titania rested in his claws as he soared gracefully toward the distant mountains, the two of them finally free.
 
The others descended to occupy themselves, leaving me alone in the queen’s chamber. I stood there, watching the lovers disappear into the horizon, their silhouettes framed by the rising sun. It was a bittersweet sight, their reunion a triumph but also a reminder of the burdens love can carry. When they finally vanished from view, I turned to leave—only to feel the pull of the silver sword.
 
It gleamed on its pedestal, almost whispering my name, a beacon of power and mystery. Dlardrageth’s words echoed in my mind: A weapon to restore Immerglade to its former glory. Curiosity overcame caution, and I approached it slowly, my hand trembling as I reached for the hilt.
 
The moment my fingers made contact, magic surged through me, coursing like a wildfire igniting my veins. My vision blurred, and then, in a flash, the truth of the weapon struck me like an enraged earth elemental. Images and knowledge flooded my mind: the sword’s purpose, its power to rebuild a kingdom, and the staggering weight of responsibility it carried. It wasn’t just a blade—it was destiny forged in silver.
 
But the truth cut deep. This power, this weapon, was not meant for me. Only one soul could wield it, and if that soul was the wrong one—if Vivienne, or worse, Ulther, ever claimed it—disaster would follow. And once the sword was drawn, the power could never be passed on. The risk was too great. My hand lingered for just a moment longer before I stepped back, leaving the blade untouched. It had to remain here, a silent sentinel, waiting for the right wielder.
 
The weight of what I’d learned stayed with me as I descended the stairs and returned to the others. Needing time to clear my mind, I spent the rest of the day foraging in the nearby woods, gathering herbs to replenish my dwindling supplies. The rhythm of the task was soothing, a balm for the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions inside me.
 
The sword’s truth and the weight of our journey hung heavy in my mind as I worked. This world, this mission—it had grown far more complicated than I ever anticipated. But one thing was clear: we were treading a delicate line, and every choice from here on out would shape not only our fate but that of Immerglade itself.
 
That evening, the air in the tower felt warmer, more alive. Dlardrageth and Titania returned, their presence bringing with it an air of serenity. They invited us to a communal dinner, their voices gentle but carrying the weight of finality. The dining room, sparse yet glowing in the soft light of conjured flames, became a place of quiet celebration. Titania, though frail, held herself with an elegance that demanded respect. Her gratitude shone through her words as she thanked us, her green lips curling into a serene smile.
 
“For giving us this one last day together,” she said, her voice soft yet resonating with unspoken emotion.
 
Dlardrageth, ever the guardian, stood beside her, his dragon eyes betraying a bittersweet pride. “You have done more than you know,” he said. “And as a token of our gratitude, my hoard is yours to take from. I have no use for it anymore.”
 
The idea of rummaging through a dragon’s hoard felt surreal, but before we could linger on the thought, the moment turned tender. Titania and Dlardrageth bid us their final farewells. There was no grand display, no tears—just quiet acceptance. They ascended to the tower once more, leaving us with the haunting knowledge that their last moments together were at hand.
 
After the meal, Gael, always the pragmatist, brought up the silver sword again. He argued, in his usual insistent tone, that we should take it with us. His reasoning was sound—such a powerful artifact couldn’t be left unguarded. But I stood firm. “It’s not meant for us,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “If we take it, we risk unleashing something we can’t control. It has to stay here for the one destined to wield it.”
 
Thankfully, the others seemed to understand, and the matter was settled without much argument.
 
The next day, with little else to do, we ventured into Dlardrageth’s cave. The hoard was impressive, a shimmering sea of gold, gemstones, and artifacts from across the ages. We each took what we needed—useful items for the journey ahead—though I couldn’t shake the weight of what this hoard represented: a life of guarding, protecting, and longing for freedom.
 
Gael, however, had taken it upon himself to persuade Dynia, the queen’s sylvan servant, to join us. When I learned of this, I protested immediately. “She’s a servant of Ulther,” I reminded him, my voice taut with frustration. “We’re bringing a potential enemy into our home.”
 
Gael dismissed my concerns with a wave of his hand. “She has no purpose here anymore. Besides, she’s just a girl caught in the tides of Ulther’s schemes. We can give her a better life.”
 
His words rang hollow to me, but he wouldn’t be swayed. Dynia, quiet and hesitant, agreed to come along. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this decision would come back to haunt us, but for now, there was no time to dwell on it.
 
With supplies packed, treasures gathered, and questions left unanswered, we stepped into Vivienne’s magic circle. The air shimmered around us as the spell took hold, and for a moment, I glanced back at the tower—its spire glowing faintly in the twilight. It felt like the end of one story and the uncertain beginning of another. Wherever this path led, it was certain that nothing would be the same.
 
The world blurred as the magic circle activated, and in the blink of an eye, we found ourselves back at the gate. Vivienne stood there, waiting as promised, her expression unreadable. But the real surprise came when Tommel, once lifeless, stepped forward beside her, alive and well.
 
“I brought him back,” Vivienne said casually, her tone dripping with nonchalance. “Out of boredom. And, of course, good faith.”
 
I didn’t trust her for a second. Resurrection wasn’t something done lightly, let alone for free. Her claim of good faith only made me more suspicious. And worse, I could see the gratitude glimmering in Tommel’s eyes, a loyalty forming that made my stomach churn. Vivienne wasn’t just collecting favors; she was planting seeds.
 
There wasn’t time to dwell on it. Without fanfare, she activated the gate, its shimmering portal opening once more, and we were deposited near the old, abandoned church close to our keep. The cool night air greeted us, tinged with the familiar scent of moss and damp stone. It felt almost surreal to be back, the chaos of the feywild still clinging to our minds.
 
But something about the church made my skin crawl. We’d known for a while that the fey kept a presence here, subtle though it was, but now I realized it was more than just a landmark. This place wasn’t just a gateway between worlds—it was a potential breach. A foothold.
 
If Vivienne could bring us here so effortlessly, what was stopping King Ulther from doing the same? What was to keep an army from materializing on our doorstep, bypassing every defense we’d built?