The Shattered Peaks lived up to their name. Jagged spires of stone erupted from the earth at impossible angles, as if some ancient god had taken a hammer to the mountains in a fit of rage. Narrow paths wound between towering columns of rock, some so precarious they seemed to defy gravity itself. Periodic tremors—too frequent to be coincidence but too mild to be true earthquakes—sent cascades of pebbles skittering down the slopes, a constant reminder of the region's instability.
Five days had passed since Tom and Skaravosk had begun their journey eastward. The rain had finally ceased on their third day of travel, giving way to clear skies that revealed the full, alien beauty of their destination. By sunset of the fifth day, they had penetrated deep into the heart of the Shattered Peaks, finding themselves in a hidden valley sheltered by towering rock formations on all sides.
"This seems promising," Tom said, surveying the valley from a ridge overlooking its eastern edge. A small lake fed by mountain springs occupied its center, surrounded by surprisingly lush vegetation. Several cave openings were visible in the surrounding cliffs, potential shelters that would provide both protection from the elements and defensive advantages.
"Indeed," Skaravosk agreed, his mental voice considerably stronger after days of continued recovery. "This valley bears the energetic signature of an ancient dragon waypoint—a neutral resting place established during the Second Draconic Concord, before the modern Compact."
Tom blinked. "The Second what now? You're going to have to translate that dragon historical jargon for the mere human who slept through history lessons."
"My apologies," Skaravosk replied, his mental voice carrying a touch of what might have been amusement. "The Draconic Concords were treaties between dragon factions in the ancient world. The Second Concord established neutral territories where dragons of different allegiances could rest without fear of territorial challenges."
"So basically dragon rest stops," Tom translated, starting his descent toward the valley floor. "Like those roadside taverns where enemies can drink side by side as long as no one starts anything."
"A simplistic but not entirely inaccurate comparison," Skaravosk conceded. "These waystations were specifically designed to accelerate draconic recovery through resonant energies embedded in the landscape itself."
Tom felt it as they descended into the valley—a subtle vibration that seemed to hum through his bones, not unpleasant but distinctly foreign to human experience. The sensation intensified as they approached the lake, whose waters shimmered with an iridescence that seemed to shift between normal coloration and something more exotic depending on the angle of observation.
"It feels... alive," Tom said as they reached the lakeshore. "Not exactly like a presence, but more than just energy."
"Perceptive," Skaravosk approved. "Ancient draconic waystations were semi-sentient constructs—not fully conscious but responsive to draconic presence and intent. The lake serves as both focus and reservoir for the station's energy system."
Tom knelt by the water's edge, noting how remarkably clear it was despite its strange iridescence. Fish unlike any he had seen before swam in its depths—silver-scaled creatures with elongated bodies and faintly luminous patterns along their flanks.
"Dragon snacks?" he asked wryly.
"A simplistic designation for Luminary Eels," Skaravosk corrected. "Created specifically to maintain the lake's energetic balance while providing sustenance for traveling dragons. Their flesh is particularly nourishing for beings with draconic essence."
"Convenient," Tom remarked, already calculating how to catch these unusual creatures. "Food source and energy boost in one package."
After a thorough exploration of the valley, Tom selected the largest of the cave openings as their primary shelter. Set approximately fifty feet up the northern cliff face, it offered excellent visibility across the entire valley while remaining easily defensible. A narrow, winding path provided access, steep enough to slow any potential attackers but navigable with minimal difficulty for someone of Tom's enhanced capabilities.
The cave itself proved surprisingly accommodating—a spacious chamber roughly forty feet deep and twenty feet wide, with a high ceiling that would have comfortably housed Skaravosk in his half-dragon form. Smaller chambers branched off from the main space, and a natural chimney in the rear provided ventilation without allowing smoke from a fire to be easily visible from outside.
Most remarkable was the stone dais centered against the rear wall—a raised platform approximately six feet in diameter, its surface etched with intricate patterns that faintly glowed with the same iridescence as the lake below.
"A resonance focus," Skaravosk identified as Tom examined the curious feature. "Designed specifically for draconic meditation and recovery. This confirms my assessment—we've found a dragon waystation of significant historical importance."
"A what now?" Tom ran his hand over the etched surface. "Looks like someone spent a lot of time carving fancy dragon graffiti." He glanced around the cave. "Will sitting on your dragon meditation rock alert others to our presence? Because that would be a pretty lousy hiding spot."
"Quite the opposite," Skaravosk assured him. "The station's concealment enchantments were specifically designed to allow safe recovery without detection. Resting upon the focus will actually enhance our energetic camouflage while accelerating recovery."
Tom nodded, satisfied with this assessment. "Then we've found our temporary base. Time to establish proper security and sustainability."
The next three days fell into a productive routine. Mornings were spent setting up elaborate perimeter warnings around the valley—trip wires fashioned from vines, balanced stone arrangements that would create distinctive sounds if disturbed, and carefully positioned reflective surfaces of polished stone that allowed Tom to monitor multiple approaches simultaneously from his elevated position.
Afternoons were dedicated to resource gathering—hunting the strange fish in the lake (which proved challenging but rewarding, their meat rich and energizing), collecting edible plants that grew in unusual abundance around the water's edge, and improvising better tools from materials available in the valley.
Evenings were spent in conversation and meditation, with Tom often sitting cross-legged on the stone dais as Skaravosk guided him through exercises designed to harmonize their energies while maintaining their distinct consciousness. The draconic enchantments proved remarkably effective—by the third evening, Skaravosk's mental presence had strengthened to nearly pre-manifestation levels, and Tom found his own physical capabilities enhanced beyond what he had experienced before.
It was during one such evening session, as the sun cast long shadows across the valley, that Skaravosk made a curious observation.
"Your energy patterns have changed," the dragon noted, his mental voice reflective. "There's something... unexpected developing."
Tom opened his eyes, breaking his meditative focus. "Good unexpected or bad unexpected? Because with our luck, I'm guessing bad."
"Neither good nor bad," Skaravosk replied. "Simply... unprecedented. Your human physiology appears to be developing the capacity to generate small amounts of draconic energy independently."
Tom blinked in surprise. "What, you mean like... my own dragon power? Without borrowing yours?"
"In essence, yes. Though 'borrowing' has never been precisely accurate—our arrangement has always involved my essence enhancing your natural capabilities rather than simply transferring power. But this development suggests your body is adapting to create compatible energies on its own, albeit in very small quantities."
"How is that possible?" Tom moved to the cave entrance, stretching muscles that felt simultaneously relaxed and energized from their meditation session. "I thought humans couldn't generate draconic energy—that's what makes dragons, well, dragons."
"Normally, that would be correct," Skaravosk acknowledged. "However, our unique circumstances—your death and reconstruction using my essence as a foundation, followed by extended close integration—appears to have catalyzed adaptations that should theoretically be impossible."
Tom processed this information with his characteristic pragmatism. "So what does this mean practically? Can I breathe fire on my own now? Sprout little wings?"
"Nothing so dramatic," Skaravosk replied, a touch of dryness coloring his mental tone. "The energy generation is minimal—perhaps enough to enhance your physical capabilities slightly even when I'm conserving power, or to maintain limited sensory enhancements without my direct contribution."
"Useful though," Tom noted. "Especially in situations where you need to focus your energy elsewhere." He picked up a small stone and tossed it idly from hand to hand. "So I'm turning into some kind of dragon-human hybrid?"
"No," Skaravosk corrected firmly. "This adaptation does not change your fundamental nature. You remain entirely human, simply with the unusual ability to generate energy typically exclusive to draconic physiology. Think of it as developing a new muscle rather than changing species."
Tom nodded, relieved. While he had embraced the advantages of his partnership with Skaravosk, he had no desire to lose his humanity entirely. "Can I learn to control it? Direct this energy consciously?"
"With practice, certainly. The same meditative techniques we've been using to strengthen my recovery could be adapted to help you recognize and focus your own energy generation."
They spent the remainder of the evening experimenting with this new discovery. Tom learning to sense the subtle difference between his own nascent draconic energy and the vastly greater power that Skaravosk contributed to their partnership. The distinction was difficult to perceive at first—like trying to identify a specific raindrop in a downpour—but gradually, Tom began to recognize the unique signature of his self-generated energy.
"It feels... warmer somehow," he explained as they concluded their practice session. "More integrated with my own body, less like a current running through me from outside."
"An apt description," Skaravosk approved. "With continued practice, you should be able to cultivate this capacity, though it will likely never approach even a fraction of true draconic power."
"Still," Tom mused, "could be the edge that makes a difference in the right situation."
The discovery shifted their conversations over the next few days toward longer-term considerations. As Skaravosk's recovery progressed and Tom explored his new capabilities, the question of their next steps became increasingly pressing.
"We can't hide in this valley forever," Tom observed on their seventh morning, as he prepared a breakfast of the strange iridescent fish. "Sooner or later, someone's going to find us—your kin, the Heroes, or the Demon King's forces. We need a strategy beyond just recovery and evasion."
"Indeed," Skaravosk agreed. "My energy signature will soon be strong enough for other Dragon Kings to detect, despite the waystation's protective properties. And the Heroes have proven remarkably persistent in previous hunts, according to the legends of this era."
Tom turned the fish on their makeshift spit, considering. "So we have options, as I see it. We could try to contact the Heroes directly, explain what really happened at the Stone Crown. Or we could seek out your kin, try to negotiate some kind of understanding. Or we could continue operating independently, focusing on disrupting the Demon King's plans while avoiding both groups."
"Each approach carries significant risks," Skaravosk noted. "The Heroes might not believe our explanation, seeing only a dragon's return as a threat to be eliminated. My kin..." He paused, his mental voice taking on a harder edge. "My kin betrayed me once. Their reaction to my return would be... unpredictable at best."
"And continuing alone leaves us without allies against whatever the Demon King is planning next," Tom completed the assessment. "Not ideal odds."
He removed the fish from the fire, setting them aside to cool. "What about the information we gathered during our far-sensing? The Demon King's surveillance network seemed focused on specific locations—ancient power sites, places with historical significance to dragons. Could we use that pattern to predict where they might target next?"
"An intriguing approach," Skaravosk acknowledged. "The pattern did suggest particular interest in locations where dimensional boundaries naturally thin. If we could identify such sites that haven't yet been compromised..."
"We could get there first," Tom finished, excitement coloring his voice. "Set up counter-measures, maybe even traps similar to what worked at the Stone Crown."
"Though with less destructive outcomes if possible," Skaravosk added dryly. "The dimensional backlash from our disruption at the Stone Crown likely caused significant collateral effects we haven't yet observed."
Tom took a bite of the fish, its unusual flavor still surprising despite days of consuming it. "So we need information—detailed maps of ley lines, historical dragon territories, ancient power sites. Not exactly the kind of thing I'd find in a standard military briefing."
"No," Skaravosk agreed. "Such information would typically be guarded by mages of significant rank, royal archivists, or..." He paused. "Or Heroes from another world with access to prophecy and dimensional knowledge."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "You think the Heroes might have the information we need? The same Heroes who are hunting us?"
"It seems likely. Their prophecy-driven mission would almost certainly include knowledge of significant power nexuses and dimensional weak points—precisely the information the Demon King appears to be exploiting."
"So we need what they have, but can't exactly walk up and ask for it." Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Unless..."
"Unless?" Skaravosk prompted.
"Unless we could observe them without direct confrontation. Get close enough to learn what they know without revealing ourselves." Tom's tactical mind was already calculating possibilities. "During our far-sensing, we located them in the western mountains, still following that false trail. If we could track them, maybe find their base of operations or where they store their information..."
"A reconnaissance mission," Skaravosk summarized. "High risk, but potentially high reward."
Tom nodded, finishing his breakfast as he considered the practical aspects of such an approach. "I'd need to maintain minimal transformations—enough enhancement for tracking and evasion, but nothing obvious enough to trigger whatever detection methods they're using."
He paused mid-bite, a new idea forming. "Wait a minute. Maybe we're overthinking this. What if instead of sneaking around trying to steal their information, we just... ask for it?"
"Ask the Heroes who are actively hunting us for their secret intelligence?" Skaravosk's mental tone carried clear skepticism. "An interesting negotiation strategy."
Tom grinned. "Not directly. Anonymously. We send them a message—something that shows we know what really happened at the Stone Crown. Offer to share our information in exchange for theirs."
"And how would we deliver such a message without revealing ourselves?"
"That's the beauty of it," Tom replied, warming to his plan. "We don't need to get close. Find a local messenger in some village, pay them to deliver a sealed letter. The Heroes would have no way to trace it back to us directly."
Skaravosk was silent for a moment, considering. "This approach has merit, though significant risks remain. The Heroes might attempt to track the messenger back to its source."
"So we make it a multi-step delivery. Village messenger delivers to a town courier, who delivers to a city messenger service. Each step removes us further from direct connection." Tom set aside his plate, excitement building. "We'd need to word it carefully—enough information to prove we know something valuable, but not enough to give away our position or nature."
"There's another complication," Skaravosk noted. "Even if we maintain physical distance, my energy signature could potentially be detected on any object we handle. The Sword Saint in particular appears to possess enhanced sensitivity to non-human energies."
Tom frowned, recognizing the problem. "So we'd need a way to mask or eliminate your energy signature from the message. Is that possible?"
"Perhaps," Skaravosk replied thoughtfully. "My energy signature when fully activated would be impossible to completely conceal. However, in my current recovery state, with conscious suppression..." He paused. "It might be possible to teach you how to completely shield your actions from my energy, temporarily using only your own human and newly developed minor draconic energies, which would appear far less distinctive."
"You mean like... energetic quarantine?" Tom asked. "Cutting you out of the loop temporarily while I write the message?"
"Precisely. A temporary but complete separation of our energetic patterns. Challenging, but not impossible with the proper techniques. The waystation's resonance focus would actually facilitate such work."
The rest of the day was spent developing this new approach. Tom practiced the energy separation techniques Skaravosk taught him, learning to create a temporary barrier between their shared consciousness while maintaining basic communication. It was delicate work—creating sufficient separation to mask draconic energy without disrupting their partnership entirely.
The stone dais proved invaluable for these exercises, its ancient enchantments helping stabilize the unusual energy patterns they were creating. By late afternoon, Tom had managed to maintain complete energetic separation for nearly ten minutes—enough time to compose a message that would carry no trace of Skaravosk's distinctive power signature.
"The sensation is... strange," Tom admitted after their third practice session. "Like holding my breath energetically. I can feel you there, but there's this barrier between us."
"The discomfort is natural," Skaravosk assured him. "Such complete separation runs counter to the partnership we've established. But for brief periods, it should be sustainable without adverse effects."
Tom moved to a flat stone near the cave entrance that would serve as a writing surface, arranging the natural pigments and makeshift writing implements he'd prepared from materials in the valley. "Let's test it with an actual message. What exactly should we say to the Heroes?"
"Direct but not threatening," Skaravosk suggested. "Establish credibility through specific knowledge only someone present at the Stone Crown would possess. Offer valuable information without revealing our nature."
Tom nodded, considering his approach. "I'll focus on the Demon King's dimensional working—details about the energy patterns, the crystalline structures, things that would prove we understand what was actually happening there rather than just causing random destruction."
"And the exchange proposal should be specific," Skaravosk added. "Request information about other potential sites similar to the Stone Crown—locations where dimensional boundaries are naturally thin."
"Right. Make it clear we're not asking for their prophecy secrets or battle plans, just specific intelligence about potential target locations." Tom arranged his materials carefully. "Ready to try the full separation?"
"Proceed. I will maintain minimal awareness but complete energetic isolation. Remember, you have approximately ten minutes before the separation becomes difficult to sustain."
Tom took a deep breath, then implemented the mental techniques they had practiced. The sensation was immediate and dramatic—a sudden absence where Skaravosk's presence usually resided, as if a constant background hum had abruptly ceased. He could still sense the dragon at the very edges of his awareness, but the direct connection they normally shared had been replaced by a carefully maintained barrier.
Working quickly but with precision, Tom crushed berries and minerals to create natural inks, then began writing on a piece of bark stripped from a fallen tree. His penmanship was rough but legible:
To the Four Heroes from the East,
You hunt what you do not understand. At the Stone Crown, dimensional barriers were being systematically weakened through a crystalline network drawing power from sacrificed consciousness. The purple corruption you detected was not caused by draconic manifestation but by the Demon King's agents preparing a gateway between realms.
The dimensional working involved thirteen connection points arranged in a spiraling pattern, with the central crimson crystal serving as the primary catalyst. The Whisper Lord overseeing the operation intended to create a stable pathway for something called "the King's ascension."
I offer this information as proof of my knowledge and as a gesture of good faith. I possess additional intelligence about the Demon King's methods and intentions that may prove valuable to your mission.
In exchange, I seek only information about other locations similar to the Stone Crown—places where dimensional boundaries naturally thin, particularly those with historical significance or connection to ley line intersections.
If this exchange interests you, place your response beneath the third standing stone at Widow's Crossing, marked with a simple cross. Include a method for further communication.
We share a common enemy, though you may not yet realize it.
—A Friend
Tom finished the message just as the energy separation began to strain his concentration. He quickly folded the bark into a protective covering of large leaves, securing it with thin vines. Only when the package was complete did he release the separation technique, feeling Skaravosk's presence flow back into their normal connection.
"Successful?" the dragon inquired.
Tom nodded, feeling mentally fatigued but satisfied. "Message complete, no trace of your energy signature. Just normal human energetic patterns and the faint trace of my own developing draconic energy, which should be too subtle for detection."
"Excellent. The minor draconic signature might actually lend credibility—suggesting someone with knowledge of such energies but not immediately identifiable as a dragon."
Tom set the package aside carefully. "Now we just need to find a suitable messenger and establish the delivery chain."
As night fell over the Shattered Peaks, Tom stood at the cave entrance, gazing at stars emerging in the clear mountain sky. Their plan had evolved from direct observation to this more subtle approach—an anonymous communication that might open dialogue without exposing them to immediate danger.
"Do you think they'll respond?" he asked, watching as a meteor briefly streaked across the darkness.
"Difficult to predict," Skaravosk replied. "Heroes are typically driven by their prophecy-granted mission with little deviation. However, practical necessity often overrides ideological rigidity. If they believe our information could assist their primary objective of defeating the Demon King..."
"They might just take the bait," Tom finished. "Especially if we can convince them we're not the enemy they think we are."
"A significant 'if,'" Skaravosk noted. "Their pursuit suggests they view draconic manifestation as inherently threatening. Changing such perceptions without direct communication presents considerable challenges."
Tom shrugged. "Worth trying before we risk direct contact. Worst case, they ignore the message and we're no worse off than before."
"True enough," Skaravosk agreed. "Though I would suggest contingency planning for various responses, including potential traps."
"Already on it," Tom assured him. "I'm thinking we observe the drop point from a safe distance, verify any response isn't bait for an ambush, and have multiple extraction routes prepared."
"Your military training continues to serve our partnership well," Skaravosk observed. "The strategic assessment of multiple scenarios was always a draconic strength as well."
"Guess some things are universal when it comes to staying alive," Tom replied with a slight smile. "Whether you've got scales or not."
They spent the rest of the evening refining their plan. They would depart at dawn, traveling first to a small mining settlement Skaravosk remembered from their far-sensing exploration—a village called Emberhold approximately two days' journey from their current position. There they would find a suitable messenger to begin the delivery chain, ideally someone traveling regularly between settlements.
As Tom prepared for sleep, arranging his bedroll near the stone dais, he found himself reflecting on how their approach had evolved since leaving the valley where they'd first recovered after the Stone Crown incident. Initial panic and flight had given way to more measured strategy, reactive survival transforming gradually into proactive planning.
"We're getting better at this," he observed as he settled onto his bedroll.
"Better at what, precisely?" Skaravosk inquired.
"This whole 'hunted by everyone while trying to save the world' thing," Tom clarified with a wry smile. "Getting past just running and hiding, starting to actually make moves that might change the game."
"An apt observation," the dragon acknowledged. "Adaptation has always been the key to survival—for dragons as much as humans. Though I would argue our circumstances remain far from ideal."
"Show me someone with ideal circumstances in this mess of a world," Tom countered good-naturedly. "At least we've got some interesting advantages."
He flicked his fingers, concentrating on the tiny spark of self-generated draconic energy he was gradually learning to control. A small shimmer of power briefly manifested—nothing compared to what Skaravosk could produce, but entirely his own. The achievement, minor as it was, represented progress he couldn't have imagined weeks earlier.
"Your control improves rapidly," Skaravosk noted. "Though I would caution against unnecessary expenditure before tomorrow's journey."
"Just checking to make sure it's still there," Tom replied, settling back. "Never hurts to know what tools you've got in your kit."
As sleep approached, Tom found himself strangely optimistic despite the challenges ahead. They had shelter, a plan, and developing capabilities that made them more than the sum of their separate parts. Whether the Heroes responded to their message or not, they were taking action rather than merely reacting—a significant shift in their strategic position.
Dawn found them prepared for departure, their minimal possessions packed, the cave returned to its natural state with all evidence of their occupation removed. Tom took a final moment to kneel beside the stone dais, placing his palm against its cool surface in a gesture that felt appropriate somehow.
"Gratitude to the waystation for its shelter," Skaravosk intoned formally in his mind. "An ancient courtesy observed by traveling dragons. The semi-sentient energies respond more favorably to acknowledgment."
"Does that actually do anything?" Tom asked as he rose.
"It is... difficult to quantify precisely," Skaravosk admitted. "But patterns of respect tend to propagate through interconnected energy systems. At minimum, it leaves a positive resonance signature rather than a disruptive one."
"Dragon superstition," Tom translated with a slight smile. "Got it."
Their message securely wrapped and stowed in Tom's pack, they descended from the cave to the valley floor. The morning light played across the lake's surface, creating patterns of iridescence that seemed almost deliberately beautiful. The valley had served them well—providing safety, sustenance, and the opportunity for recovery and discovery. Leaving its protection represented a calculated risk, but necessity drove them forward.
"Next time we're here, maybe we'll be working with the Heroes instead of hiding from them," Tom remarked as they followed the narrow path leading out of the valley.
"An optimistic projection," Skaravosk replied, though without his usual skepticism. "But not entirely implausible, given a successful exchange of information."
With a final glance at the hidden valley that had sheltered them, Tom set off toward Emberhold and the next phase of their evolving strategy—communication rather than confrontation, information exchange rather than direct conflict. Whether it succeeded or failed, the attempt represented progress from mere survival toward actively shaping events.
Behind them, unnoticed as they departed, the stone dais in the cave briefly pulsed with increased luminescence, as if in acknowledgment of their passage. The ancient waystation, designed millennia ago for dragons traveling alone, had witnessed something unprecedented—a partnership that maintained distinct identities while achieving unique synergy.
As Tom and Skaravosk vanished among the towering spires of the Shattered Peaks, the valley settled back into its timeless rhythm, ready to wait for their possible return—whether in triumph, failure, or something in between.
"Race you to that ridge," Tom challenged suddenly, gesturing toward a prominent outcropping about a mile ahead. Without waiting for a response, he broke into a run, channeling a small amount of his newly discovered self-generated energy to enhance his speed.
Skaravosk's mental sigh carried notes of both exasperation and amusement. "This is a serious strategic mission, not a recreational outing."
But even as the dragon protested, Tom felt his own capabilities subtly augmented by Skaravosk's energy, accelerating him to a pace no human could match. The implicit participation in Tom's spontaneous race revealed more than the dragon would likely ever admit aloud about how their partnership had evolved.
Tom grinned as he ran, the mountain air filling his lungs, the morning sun warming his face. They might be heading toward uncertainty, toward entities that wished them harm, but in this moment—moving in perfect coordination through the majestic landscape—he felt a sense of purpose that transcended concern.
The unremarkable soldier and the ancient dragon king, separate but united, carrying a message that might just change everything.