Ahn’rah awoke to the sound of Turimiil humming, slowly blinking away sleep as he raised his head and realized she wasn’t next to him. It didn’t take long to find her, however, sitting beside the Dullahan and helping her drink water. Ahn’rah simply watched her, a smile slowly reaching his lips as he listened to her hum along to an old Topavaran lullaby. After a few minutes Turimiil put down the clay pitcher of water and turned to walk back toward the nest. She met her mate’s eyes before taking a pause and matching his smile.
“You’re awake. How long have you been staring at me?”
“Only for a few minutes. You’re going to be a wonderful Mother one day, Turi.”
Turimiil’s eyes widened and she giggled, sitting next to him now with a slight smirk. “Absolutely. And you’ll be a wonderful Father.”
Ahn’rah’s laugh came off a bit more nervous. “I sure hope so. I would at least know what not to do.”
His mate nudged his arm. “Give yourself some credit, dear. You’ve got a lot more kindness and love in each of your hearts than Hallath could ever muster.”
Ahn’rah gave a soft sigh and sat up, nestling himself up against her. “You’re certainly right in that regard.” He muttered, simply staying there for a few moments and enjoying her warmth. The fire in the center of the den was still going, but the flames weren’t nearly as high as they were the night before. The new logs of wood Turimiil had thrown on made crackling and popping noises that slightly echoed on the walls of their den. Ahn’rah could have stayed like that forever, if only his situation would allow it.
“How is our new Fae friend doing?”
Turimiil glanced back over her shoulder at the Dullahan. “He looks a lot better than he did when we brought him here. His face has a bit more color and his face looks a little more peaceful.”
“I assume he hasn’t woken up at all?”
“No, he hasn’t even moved. I think he might need more Leystones to help him along. The ones Cael left on him are already empty.”
“Really?” Ahn’rah stood and briefly stretched before following Turimiil over to the green Fae. His mate had removed the Leystones from his body and set them on the rocky floor of their den in a pile. Each and every one of them had gone entirely dim. “I doubt they were supposed to go dark so fast.”
Turimiil picked one up and looked it over, not a speck of that glowing white Ley Energy left in it. “I’m not sure. Cael would know.”
“Speaking of, where is he? It’s still early morning.”
“Oh, he left not too long ago. He said he was going to meet back up with The Thought-Bringers and try to convince Lady Vulluin to meet him at The Socket around sunset. He wanted you to come along as well, so that you both can try to convince her.”
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Ahn’rah nodded, meeting his mate’s eyes and giving a soft sigh. “I assume you’ve already volunteered to watch over the Fae?”
Turimiil nodded as well, giving a soft chuckle. “Of course. Someone has to be here if he needs something or decides to wake up. Besides, I’m still feeling a bit weak from the flight yesterday, and you’re better suited to convince her.”
Ahn’rah rolled his eyes and rested his head on Turimiil’s shoulder. “You’re plenty convincing in my book, Turi.”
Turimiil’s giggles made Ahn’rah feel lighter despite all of the stress the current situation had him under. “Well, perhaps I could convince you to bring home more firewood along with the Leystones? We’re getting low.”
“Done, darling.” Ahn’rah chuckled, nuzzling his mate’s cheek before standing up and walking over to the entrance of their den. “I should get a move on. I need to look busy somewhere or else Father will have it in for me.”
“Fly strong, Ahn.” Turimiil walked up beside him and nuzzled against him briefly before Ahn’rah stepped out of the cave and took flight, gliding his way down from the Aether and back into the atmosphere of Topavara
---------------------
Ahn’rah maneuvered in the air, twisting around the singular spire of The World Spine that held the War Room, eventually landing at the mouth of the cavern. It wasn’t quite as he left it, seeing as certain groups of stone slabs had been pulled out of shelves and left on the floor. His father must have already been here and grabbed something he needed. Ahn’rah decided not to give much thought to it and began tidying up.
It didn’t take all that long. A few misplaced crates here, a stray slab of stone there. He hesitated, however, on the last slab as he was putting it away, his eye catching a word that he felt unfamiliar with. It was written with someone else’s claws and looked to be a brief report from one of the Dives.
The word “Generator” was written twice within the report. It seemed to be something that a Satyr had called a Dryad while the Diver had been listening in out of view. The Diver noted that the Minotaur and Dryad seemed to be arguing over some sort of spell, and Ahn’rah couldn’t help but curse the author for not giving more context. The report went on to describe the two Fae putting away several magic tomes into a room, and the author went on to explain how they later got inside and plundered it.
Ahn’rah put away the stone slab with a soft huff, frustrated that the report didn’t have any information he actively wanted. He then decided to continue searching through other reports, now looking for keywords such as “Dullahan”, “Minotaur”, or this new label of “Generator”.
It took him a few hours of endless searching and making himself busy before he could find even a handful of reports. None of them, however, seemed to contain that word again. The reports were all brief and nondescript when it came to the Fae, typically only describing them as such. The most he found was a few snippets of info that he doubted were even true. After all, whoever heard of Minotaurs breathing fire, or Dullahans running away from battle without their heads?
The blue Dragon sat on his haunches and stared up at the ceiling, one of his claws tapping away at the stone floor. Just what was a “Generator”? To generate something would be to make more of it, but just what would they be making more of? The initial report depicted the two Fae with books. Was it their label for authors? Or perhaps only for authors of spell tomes, or an offshoot from the normal label of “mage”?
Ahn’rah took a moment to stop and breathe, having to urge himself to simply let go of that gnawing curiosity at the back of his brain. He could ask Cael or Lady Vulluin about it later tonight. He slowly put away all of the slabs he had picked out and sat at the large stone table with a fresh slate. Even if he didn’t intend to help his Father for much longer, he at the very least needed to seem productive. He began carving out a starting estimate for the next dive, occasionally glancing out toward the sky as he impatiently waited for the sun to sink toward the horizon.
