ORIGIN

It made sense, now.

The last time he'd been here (he thought, slowly hauling that lame, scarred right hind leg behind him), he had had... an experience.

A horrifying one.

He'd dove into the Eyes, comparatively young, naive, intent simply on exploring. It had gotten dark, down there. And the deeper he'd gone, the worse the sensation of being watched: by shrouded eyes, by faces half-glimpsed like ghosts in the depths. The sense of foreboding--a warning, a threat--had grown so overpowering that his sense of self-preservation had swiftly won out over curiosity. He'd fled, lunging for land and leaving the Eyes behind.

But now he thought he knew what it had meant. Farina--all that time, she had been trapped down there. No doubt he had drawn close--though what the faces and the visions were, he still had no idea.

Nemean, though. The Betrayer. The closing of the long circle started at his hatching years before: she was there, now. Trapped, boiling eternally--waking and boiling back into her stone over, and over, and over again as punishment for what she'd done. And Dragon--having done his part, having fed Aquarian and having fought the denizens of the cave to aid in Nemean's apprehension--was here to... gloat.

Or, at least, to see for himself.

He was here, now. A long slog, but he'd taken his time, though his skin felt a little dry; and as long as the waters didn't reject him again, he imagined that a dip would be quite refreshing.

Dragon's snout touched water; his permanent grin would have widened if it could have. He slid down, headfirst, vanishing beneath the surface and leaving a concentric ring rippling out from his entry point. And now, he went deeper--deeper than before, more swiftly than before, powerful thrusts of his ridged tail driving him into the black.

He reached out--tentative--with his senses, trying to feel a heartbeat, or maybe even magic down below. (Would Nemean's heart even beat, were she encased in stone-?)

There. It took him a moment, his magic scanning the deep and eventually... flickering, resonating, in a way with which Dragon was unfamiliar. His magic had never done this before, but--it was doing it now, and very far below--very distant and small beneath him--he could sense Nemean's magic.

It was, despite her tiny size, too damn strong to miss.

A rumble and a thread of bubbles, satisfaction incarnated, escaped his jaws. Pleased malice gleamed in his dark eyes.

He swept down as far as he could--not enough to find her stone, no, but enough that it was close enough to be unmistakeable. Enough that he could tell, too, that the strange sensation of being watched and hunted was... gone.

If anything, Dragon might be the hunter now.

He turned, fat tail thrusting him back up for the surface, his new magic senses reaching out around him as he went.

A spark of... something caught his attention partway up and he diverted, curiosity rising in him. If the Eyes were like a well, then this tiny shine was something in its wall, and Dragon--too deep down to really see--drifted over to nose at it.

Dragon had to pry at the wall of the pool, teeth and jaws carefully working. Even when he felt something hard come away in his teeth, he was unsure as to what it was; it was too dark, this deep, for even his eyes to see.

If he could even see something in his own mouth which, naturally, he could not.

He could tell it was far larger than he'd realized, though; it had slid from the substrate in a long pull, like a blade from a scabbard. Once he'd hauled himself back onto shore, the water coursing from his ridged scales, he set the item down and examined it.

A stone! he thought, excited and surprised. Surely, this had to be someone--something--important, right-? Someone who had been down among the Masters, hidden in the wall? Or another traitor thrown in to die there, he mused. Either way, this gem held magic. It was a gleaming green, long, blade-like, or perhaps like a very strange talon; it had to e nearly a foot long.

He looked it over, fascinated, but he could not tell what sort of animal it might have come from.

Still-... It might be a Child of Rot, in time. He wondered, for a moment, if he should not find Farina--ask who the stone had belonged to and ask, to be safe, permission to even take it. But Dragon was not loyal to anyone but himself and to his Children, and with a mischievous sense of defiance he picked the gemstone up in his jaws. Further payment for our service, he decided, amused, and turned back toward Cetus.

All the same, he felt that a more speedy exit might be wise; and so a flare of magic and he'd taken flight, red and black draconic wings--and horns--sprouting ethereal from his body and carrying him swiftly away.