Sariel emeged from the heart of the storm, not riding but walking, she seemed unaffected by the wind and rain that lashed aginst the companions. The young womans simple yet sturdy clothing clung to her form, revealing a lithe and agile physique. Her unbound dark hair whipped around her face, framing eyes of startling emerald green that held an unnerving calm amidst the tempest’s fury.
Sariels approach was a silent glide, her footsteps barely disturbing the muddy ground. Her movements, both graceful and fluid contrasted sharply with the chaos surrounding her.
Although she appeared to carry no weapons, her presence commanded attention. Her arrival was not just an entrance, it was an event, a shift in the balance of power, a challenge to the storm, to Aylindra. The sense of power emanating from her hinted at a strength far beyond her youthful appearance.

Scraps growl had been loud and menacing, a constant undercurrent to the tense scene. The scruffy dog had sensed Aylindra’s deception and his instinct to protect the Mirror of Dragons were on high alert. But with Sariel’s arrival, the aggressive tension in Scraps stance eased. His growls softened becoming less a threat and more a low rumble.
His one good eye still watched Aylindra with suspicion, but the primal fear that had gripped him lessened. He could feel that he was no longer alone in guarding the mirror. Sariel’s presence, while unfamiliar to the dog, did not trigger the same alarm bells. It seemed an unspoken understaning passed between Scraps and Sariel, a silent acknowledgment of a shared purpose—the protection of the Mirror from Aylindra’s grasp.
The change in Scraps demeanor was slight, almost imperceptible, but to Hedrag, who was becoming attuned to the dog, it conveyed a powerful message.

Hedrag turned to the newcomer,”we have met before have we not, The Crying Wolf tavern, you made us breakfast I recall.”

Sariel smiled a simple acknowledgement, then turned back to confront Aylindra.

Aylindra’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—was it annoyance? Wariness? She had commanded this confrontation with effortless confidence until now. But Sariel’s arrival had changed the tone. The storm still howled around them, but suddenly, it was Aylindra who seemed out of place.

Sariel held Aylindra’s gaze, her expression calm yet unwavering. “You weave deception with skill,” she said softly, her voice carrying despite the wind. “But lies unravel when exposed to the truth.”

Aylindra’s smirk returned, cold and calculated. “Truth? You speak as if you know it, but truth is a shifting thing, shaped by those who wield it.”

Morwen tightened her grip on the reins, feeling the weight of the Mirror of Dragons at her side. The storm itself seemed to respond to the rising tension—lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the clash of wills between the two women.

Then, Aylindra moved.

She raised one hand, and the storm answered her command. The air cracked with power as swirling currents coalesced around her, forming shapes—living forms forged of storm and sea. Water churned into towering figures with hollow, shifting faces, while the wind twisted itself into ghostly, writhing beings. The summoned elemental forces surged forward, their presence overwhelming, pushing against the companions and Sariel like a tide.

“Choose your path, but know this,” Aylindra called, her voice sharp with finality. “The journey ahead is treacherous, and not all who walk it will reach its end.”

With a final glance at Morwen, she turned her stallion sharply, retreating into the storm even as the summoned creatures advanced.

The companions had no time to pursue her—they were already fighting to hold their ground. Hedrag drew his blade, slashing at the water-bound forms attempting to drown him in their shifting grasp. Perran called upon his own magic, lashing out with bursts of force against the spectral entities twisting in the wind. Morwen and Derowen worked together, shielding the group as best they could, while Scraps barked fiercely, lunging at the nearest foe with fearless resolve.

And then there was Sariel—she did not falter. She stepped forward, lifting one hand, and the air around her shimmered, rippling with unseen energy. Her presence alone seemed to push back against Aylindra’s lingering storm, her eyes flashing like emerald fire.

The battle was swift but decisive. With Sariel’s intervention and the companions fighting as one, the summoned forces lost their cohesion, scattering into mist and water. The storm began to settle, its unnatural fury fading as if the sky itself recognized the shift in power.

Aylindra was gone.

The silence that followed was heavy, the remnants of the storm still swirling in the distance. The companions exchanged glances—exhausted, drenched, but victorious.

Sariel exhaled slowly, then turned to Morwen, her gaze steady. “You must understand what you carry,” she said, her voice measured. “The Mirror of Dragons is no ordinary relic. It is bound to destiny itself.”

Morwen nodded, chest rising and falling with the weight of everything that had just transpired. “Then we should move forward,” she said finally.

Sariel offered her hand—not in command, but in partnership.

“The road to Vorngard awaits.”