Co-Authored by Blake Wales and Calcifer Rauth

Part One: Sanctum

Footsteps merged with the rustling of grass blades and golden-red autumn leaves. The slight, almost unheard, and crisp crunching of dried leaves underfoot rhythmically and slowly became louder, as the walker came closer to his destination. Hearing the quiet, initially unnoticed sound, a silver and white dragon woke from his half-doze. Immediately on alert, a quick glance showed him nothing in the close vicinity, but the conviction that there was someone, or something out there remained. Silently and cautiously, he sank onto his belly and faded into the grass, trying to avoid being seen. He waited, in silent anticipation of the walker.

The smell of fading trees and grass hung thinly in the air, filling it with the scents of autumn’s bounty and the season’s fruit. A faint zephyr accompanied the sound of approaching footsteps as does the virtuoso piano bolster and complement a skilled singer’s voice. Like a gently singing harp, it played melody to the rhythm of the footfalls. They came to a pause just outside the outer boundary of the walker’s goal: the place the Planesmaster called home. A voice, rich and deep like a hearty comedian, scratched the air in the same manner soft graphite applied itself smoothly onto a canvas.

“I hope I am not interrupting your nap, Calcifer?”

The voice was familiar, but he struggled to place it. The person it matched did not come to mind, no matter how much he wrestled with his memory. Nevertheless, he recognised the owner as a friend, someone he could trust. As he came to that conclusion, a rather amusing thought wriggled its way into his mind. Smirking as its full implications dawned upon him, he started sneaking quietly through the vegetation, being careful to keep low and close to the ground. Following the direction of the voice, he wondered who exactly it was. Not many know I nap often. Meanwhile, the voice continued with a mix of friendliness and uncertainty, as though the speaker was addressing a superior known only through reputation.

“I know you are nearby because... well, Merewen scouted the territory and identified this area as the one anomaly in all the countryside.” The speaker paused, thinking to himself. Goodness! I must be intruding if I'm explaining all this to him! Pausing, he thought over his next few words before continuing on, just as confident, though still tinged slightly with hesitation.

“My name is Silverheart Asura, Commander of the First White Dragons of the Holy Order, under the Paladin Doune Appenfell - and I have come to visit an old friend!”

To the white dragon in the grass, the volume of the words told him that his unrecognised friend was close, and the proclamation gave him pause for a second as the name, face and voice finally came together. Silverheart... Come as promised, in spite of the expected resistance. Without further ado, he moved much faster, all the while thinking of Merewen and how easily she found his dwelling place. To have an angel at one’s side was definitely something not to be underestimated. The heavy cloud of planar energy here must have accounted for the anomaly the angel had found. Clearing the thoughts out of his mind as he came within a few ten feet of his quarry, Calcifer crouched down lower, growling loud enough for Silverheart to hear. Then, after a moment, just for dramatic effect, he pounced.

Hearing the low growl much closer than he had expected to hear such a sound, the dragon’s eyes started moving towards its origin. Before he could find it, however, a fierce silver dragon flashed into sight, claws bared. Reacting immediately, the healer released the remaining breath in his lungs in a makeshift Quickening spell.

Moving with alarming agility, he managed to sidestep the pounce, but not by enough. A barrier of light shattered around Silverheart's right side as the cleric leaped aside. Claws raked across him and armour was shredded aside as blood leaked from the wound, flying across the grass in a bright spray. The white dragon fell to the ground on his left side, shouting out a single word: "CALCIFER!"

Landing only for a second, the silver dragon twisted about, crouched and prepared to leap onto Silverheart. However, he paused as he heard the dragon shout his name. With a start, he noticed the wound. Glancing down at his own bloodied claws, he recognised the wound as being inflicted by his sharp natural weapons.

"Claws, Silverheart, are you all right?"

Preparing a healing spell immediately, he repaired as much of the damage as possible, though the armour would have to wait a while. A swamping wash of guilt made him regret his actions, but what was done was done. The least he could do was try to make amends. To his surprise, Silverheart laughed to himself aloud, a deep, hearty chuckling as though he had heard the punch line of a good joke. Wincing a little as he turned and sat up, he looked at Calcifer with vigorous, excited eyes.

"Well, I suppose that's what an uninvited guest receives upon the doorstep of the Planesmaster. I knew I should have sent word to you of my arrival ahead of time... Ah well, no matter. Encounters like that keep me on my toes."

He slowly got to his feet and dusted himself off, not realised that Calcifer had known who he was even before he had leapt out. Still feeling the wrench of guilt, though slightly abated now, Calcifer started off towards the centre of the large clearing. Pausing, he turned back to Silverheart, eyes shadowed, both with guilt and a dark brooding.

"That's not what an uninvited guest receives. They get much worse."

Silent for a second, he visibly shook himself. Lighten up, Calcifer. Sighing to himself, he felt familiar dark clouds gather. They had been dogging him for a long time now and his brief interlude with Silverheart just then had been that, and no more. Depression often visited him, for varying periods of time. A rumble of thunder overheard only served to illustrate that point.

"We'd better get moving. This place reflects my moods if they are strong enough."

So saying, he headed towards the nearby rock he was so comfortable with. About a few feet high, it was a massive slab of stone, worn smooth by wind and water, inclining sharply into the ground. Dropping himself onto it, he shut his eyes for a moment, leaning his head upon his crossed claws. Silverheart observed his patient’s actions all the while, noting silently the darkening clouds.

"Don't let it bother you, Cal," he said softly.

"You guard your world on your own, and had every reason to test if I was real or a demonic illusion."

Silverheart paused and looked at Calcifer, wondering if the Planesmaster was indeed as exhausted and sleepy as he looked. Light, he looks so tired... He didn't know what to say - after days of travelling and thinking only of his duty to his friend, he could not think of any words suitable now. Resorting to the typical weather-conversation, he picked up on Calcifer’s last few words.

"Will it rain, then? Or will the night be lit up by an impressive show of lightning?" he asked tentatively.

Unknown to Silverheart, the only thoughts running though Calcifer’s mind was centred about the recent events. No, I didn't have every reason. I had none. He did not open his eyes, but merely turned to face Silverheart, while still draped across the rock in a very depressed posture.

"No, I didn't. You gave me confirmation enough. What I did was unacceptable."

While he spoke however, he noted Silverheart's apparent ill-at-ease manner through his words and smiled faintly to himself. He was still young, and for a moment, Calcifer wondered whether his own youth had been as busy as Silverheart's, even without having to deal with an old cantankerous dragon like himself. In reply to Silverheart’s question, he drawled a reply in a disparaging tone, his depressed brooding taking up almost all the entirety of his attention.

"No, it probably would result in a blizzard, judging from the sudden drop in temperature. Most of the time it is usually just empty lightning and thunder."

As if in confirmation, a snowflake dropped onto his nose, and the rumble of the ice storm roared clearly in the distance.

Silverheart frowned at this, but reminded himself to count his blessings. Well at least it isn't anger or conflict of that nature. And this degree of depression is different than the showers I have become so familiar with. With an unexpected boldness, he looked directly into the closed eyelids of his friend.

"I refuse to accept your pitiful self-blame, Calcifer. You and I both know the demons killed the messenger that carried letters between the two of us. They know of our correspondence. Did you not consider that they could use my identity as a way to lower your guard?"

Hearing himself, he stopped and, with an effort, removed himself from the situation, looking at himself from the outside. Why are we fighting like this? Silverheart sighed, and with that, relaxed visibly and released his tension, allowing it to flow away from him. He tried smiling to help the process along before he walked up to his friend, unslung his backpack, and began to open it, digging around in its depths.

Beside him, Calcifer remained silent against Silverheart’s words. In spite of his rich experience in dealings with demons, he had not thought of this. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking at Silverheart in a different light. Claws, he thinks much deeper than I do at times. That thought sobered him, reminding him of how old he was. He sighed softly, shifting to an upright sitting position and turning to watch Silverheart.

"I didn't consider that. What I was doing earlier was, I am ashamed to say, entirely out of a rare fit of ill-timed jesting."

Silverheart, you're living proof of the younger generation surpassing the old. Though a bit curious of what the healer carried around with him, he rolled off the rock and dropped into the crystalline depths of the lake beside it, trying to take his mind off things. A pity then, that the blizzard chose that time to start, dumping a clump of snow onto him as he entered the waters. Cold!

Ignoring his friend's apparent misfortune at being dumped with snow, though unable to conceal his fitful smile of humour, Silverheart unpacked a few small wooden logs the length and thickness of his arms. Chuckling quietly to himself, he set them in an octagonal formation next to the rock, forming a makeshift wall about one foot tall. He knelt next to the logs, put his hands over them in a posture as if to heal them, and started chanting silently, his eyes closed in tranquil concentration. The rumble and piercing cold winds of winter approached, but he did not notice them. A break in the clouds peeped open to reveal a glimpse of the blazing sun. This, too, Silverheart ignored.

Poking his head out of the waters and shivering slightly in the wind, Calcifer dragged himself out, dripping and wet, his scales showing a tint of blue that faded almost immediately as his body desperately tried to retain what little warmth it had. Immediately distracted by the weather, he looked up at the sun, a bit unsure of why it was there. His mood had lightened, yes, but not that much to allow for an immediate change in meteorological plans. Still, the warmth was not unwelcome, though the determined ice storm did not seem ready to give up any time soon.

With a sharp snarl, a wreath of warmth touched his scales, drying him off and countering the winds for a while. Revelling in the lack of chill, he looked around for Silverheart, belatedly remembering that he was not alone, as he was most of the time. A quick scan showed him deep in concentration with a spell or enchantment of some sort he was not familiar with. Then again, he was not familiar with a lot of magical disciplines. Settling down to wait, he began to build a tiny snowman out of the copious, but rather wet, snow. Something pricked at the edges of his consciousness, but he ignored it as a side effect of whatever Silverheart was doing.