Chapter 10 - The Final Showdown

The crackling fire did little to lift the gloom that had fallen over the Adventurer's Guild Hall. Rowan stared into the flames, his conversation with Elia from the night before replaying in his mind. Though their bond was unbreakable, Cadmon's needling had planted seeds of doubt.

The air was filled with anxious energy as guild members mustered in small groups. Then, the heavy oaken doors swung open with a crash, gusting in a swirl of leaves. A travel-worn scout stumbled inside; grimy cloak hacked from countless forest brambles.

All eyes turned as she limped to the guild master's table. "Dragons...in the East Wood," she panted, collapsing into a chair. The guild master's face drained of color as she detailed the horror that had befallen three remote villages. Entire homesteads had been reduced to smoldering ruins; livestock roasted alive in their pens. But worst of all was the sighting of an immense shadow passing overhead, belching gouts of orange flame.

"A dragon god," the guild master whispered, fingers tightening around a mug until knuckles bleached. Rumors of these ancient terrors were seldom more than campfire tales, but all agreed this matched no normal dragon's scale and ferocity.

The room erupted in panic as patrons jabbered at seeing the dark shape for themselves, of loved ones unaccounted for in the dragon's wake. Above the din, Rowan met Elia's fearful gaze, knowing their fates would soon be decided. Whatever evil had stirred in the East Wood, its wrath would not stop until its flames had scorched the entire countryside. Their greatest challenge yet was rising from the ashes. The last remnants of the panicked chatter faded as the guild master disappeared behind a sturdy oaken door. An ominous quiet fell over the hall as members awaited her return, the roar of the tavern fires the only sound piercing the tense silence.

After what seemed an eternity, the door reopened with a low groan. The guild master stood framed in the doorway, shoulders bearing a weariness beyond her years. All eyes turned as she began to speak, voice heavy.

"By decree of the King's court, the dragon scourging our Eastern lands poses the gravest of threats." She paused, steeling herself. "I have been tasked with assembling our strongest members for an elite force. Your mission, should you choose to accept, is to track and defeat this beast by any means necessary."

A restless murmur rippled through the crowd at the prospect of facing a dragon god. But Cadmon was the first to rise, smirking confidently. "Consider it done, Guild master. I've felled dragons twice this worm's size."

Seeing Rowan and Elia also stand resolute, the guild master gave a single, solemn nod. "You leave at dawn. May fortune favor the bold."

As patrons raised mugs in somber toast, Rowan helped Elia pack potions and runes, praying their bond could withstand whatever threats lay ahead in the forest of the dragon's darkness., The morning sun had yet to breach the horizon when Rowan awoke to the pre-dawn quiet. He cinched his armor and grabbed his newly polished blade, steeling himself for whatever threats lurked in the forest's heart.

Outside, a bleary-eyed company had already assembled, huddled beneath a flickering torchlight. Rowan scanned the group, relief warming him at the sight of Elia tightening her arm guards. But that warmth soured as Cadmon swaggered over, ever-grinning.

"My, what a prestigious company," he drawled, eyes lingering brazenly on Elia. "With myself and these fledglings, that worm won't know what hit it."

Ignoring his needling, Elia turned to Rowan. "We face our greatest challenge yet. But our bond is stronger than any dragon's flame." Her words emboldened him as they had since childhood.

The guild master now approached, a stern goliath dwarfing even Cadmon. "This forest holds terrors to turn braver souls than yours. Stay close and trust your training. The realm is counting on your success."

With that, she lifted a horn to her lips. Its cry split the dawn like a clarion call, sending birds bursting from roosts in panicked hordes. The company turned as one towards the forest, the first tendrils of mist curling around their ankles as they embarked into the unknown. The dense mist swallowed the path within steps of the tree line. Drawing inward for courage, Rowan fell in beside Elia as Cadmon barked orders up ahead. Their party moved with practiced coordination, scouting the gloom for signs of passage.

Before long, a small encampment emerged from the fog like an apparition. There, healers readied carts of poultices and curatives while blacksmiths forged specialized gear. A quartermaster bearing a lengthy ledger called out provisions - dried meats, waterskins, rolled maps and more.

As items were allocated, Elia disappeared inside a supply tent, appearing with an arsenal of magical foci. "For whatever enemies await," she told Rowan with a reassuring smile. But doubt still gnawed within him as he inspected his panoply, steeling himself for the trials of flesh and spirit to come.

With dawn fast approaching, Cadmon clanged his breastplate impatiently. "The beast won't slay itself, children. To the East!" And with that, their company was absorbed once more by the mists, following faint game trails into the maw of the unnamed forest and its guarded secrets. Only the crunch of dead leaves betrayed their passing as the last tent flap swung shut behind them. None knew when - or if - they would appear again into the sunlight. The forest deepened, ancient sentinels blotting out the sun with gnarled boughs. An eerie quiet fell but for the crunch of dead leaves, as if all life fled this accursed wood.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling screech split the air. From above, a monstrous spider dropped onto a scout's shoulders, fangs piercing armor like parchment. Rowan's blade flashed, severing the foul thing's legs in a spray of ichor.

More spiders descended on silken threads eyes gleaming with starvation. The company battled with ferocity, magic and steel flashing under the canopy. Rowan and Elia fought back-to-back, an unstoppable tandem honed by years defending each other.

At last, the last beast fell, leaving nothing but spinning carcasses. But no time remained to celebrate - from the brush ahead emerged a ragged band, daggers glinting eagerly.

"Thieves, hoping to pick off stragglers," Cadmon snarled. "And this forest seems determined to thin our ranks."

Steeling himself, Rowan turned to meet this new threat. Whatever evil dwelled in these woods, he and Elia would face it together until the bitter end. Nothing would sever the bond protecting both his heart and homeland.

As dusk fell, the company halted in a small glade. While others set camp, Rowan and Elia scoured the brush for kindling. Around their fledgling fire, wary voices debated their course.

Some advised circling the forest outskirts, but trackers argued faint prints led ever eastward. Cadmon insisted on a stealthier approach to ambush the beast at sunrise.

Rowan spoke now, emboldened. "The forest tests our mettle, but circling risks wasting time. I say we push on through the night to flush it out by dawn."

His confidence won grudging respect until Cadmon shattered it with a jeer. "And you know dragons so well, farmer boy? While you planted cabbages, I studied these worms up close."

Seating himself nearer the fire, Cadmon's next words flowed in a silken baritone meant for Elia alone. "A woman as fair as yourself deserves only the boldest protector. One who knows when force, not fancy footwork, must be met."

Elia shot him a warning glare, but he merely smiled lazily, stretching his arms along the mossy ground behind her with a satisfied sigh. Rowan's gut roiled as the first panicked fluttering of doubt returned unbidden to his mind. What right had he to guide these warriors through a mission he knew only in tales? And could his love withstand the ever-encroaching shadow of this rival? Through driving rain, Rowan squinted into the misty distance. Suddenly, a screech like the demons of the abyss itself split the clouds.

There, upon a sheer cliff pinnacle, a colossal shadow took wing. Even at this remove, its majestic span shuddered the sodden earth, leathery wings stirring currents to fling trees from upland slopes. Scales glimmered in every shade between oil and flame as it arched its sinuous neck skyward in a defiant roar.

Then came the fire. A gout that reduced the forest below to ash and cinders trailing upon torrents sluicing gullies slick with sacrifice. Its hackles bristled like living granite, aureate eyes aglow with primordial malice unchanged since dragon kind first learned flight over fern shores.

Rowan reached for Elia instinctively, but she grasped his arm tight. Now was not the hour for doubts or distractions. "Our kingdom depends on this monster's fall," she cried above the gale. "Have faith in our bond - it will guide our hands to victory!" With that, she broke into a headlong charge toward the distant cliffside, heartening the warriors at her back to follow into the chaos of wind and fire.

The pounding rush roused Rowan with merciless insistence. His eyes fluttered open to a pink-tinged sky, the forest's guttural pulse summoning him to his feet. Today, the dragon's reign would end - or all their lives with it.

Gripping his hilt, Rowan spotted Cadmon making final obeisance to armor's mortal gods - while Elia's fingers traced secret syllables, conjuring soul's invincible bastions against the pyre to come. As one, their eyes met across the glade. Whatever fate, he knew her light would guide his heart through flames most merciless.

The trees spat them out upon a promontory's sheer flanks, buffeted by hurricane thermals. Below, the monstrosity wheeled and weaved, harrying sundered communities escaping its hell storms as livestock roasted on the pan.

At an unspoken signal, mage-fire and volleys converged in a sizzling net pulling its focus earthward. With a guttural roar, it banked against foiled hunt, talons raking stone to rear up in challenge, surcoat rippling liquid flames.

Steeling himself against engulfing terror, Rowan charged, brothers-in-arms at his flank. His every stroke rang true - yet even their discipline and devotion seemed frail against the incarnation of devastation unleashed since legends' womb. When fate is weighted on the cusp between hope and ruin, from where does courage find its wellspring?