Exhaling a long breath, Elora closed her eyes and assessed her situation, trying to think of the positives. Mama had always said “Nothing in this land, no matter how devastating, can ruin you unless you choose it to.” And Elora believed that. It was a belief that kept their faction successful for years, and what helped to keep her family joyful, even though terrible things happened—things she wanted to block out and forget about forever. But her parents always proved that a smile or a laugh was crucial for them all in times of tragedy. And as Papa said to her once, “When it seems you have no choice, you can still choose your mood.”
So Elora cataloged the things that weren’t so bad about her situation. Firstly, her arm was healed and she wasn’t going to die from blood loss or infection. She also had her own room which, while that wasn’t something she was used to or even wanted, it was a sign that she had a secure place in this lair now. Lastly, she was still alive. And regardless of how much she hated and feared the beast, she still had a chance to fit in. She simply wanted a safe place to have something similar to her own faction—a community of people she could care for. And at the thought of that, she smiled.
She sat down to eat and was surprised how delicious the simple meal was. It may not have been as elaborate as the meals in the last lair, but the flavors of the stew were spectacular, nothing like she’d ever tasted, and the bread was soft and warm, with a flaky crust.
After she ate, she opened the chests and found one empty, but the other had some plain tunics, robes, undergarments, slippers, bathing cloths, and extra blankets. Elora smiled, glad for the extra clothes, in the other lair clothes had not been a priority. She placed her own belongings into the empty chest and gathered a few bathing items before heading to the washroom Marahl mentioned. After she made use of it and changed into a new tunic, she stepped back out into the corridor, peering both ways.
Marahl never told her she couldn’t leave the room, just told her not to get in the way. So she began to explore.
Although the lair looked similar to Nyro’s, the layout was completely different. Farther down from the washroom were a number of empty quarters and a storage room. Down a few more corridors were large rooms that seemed suitable for lounges or group activities, but they appeared unused. One of the rooms she came across had various items on display, almost like a gallery. But the items were not ancient artifacts she expected to see in a dragorai lair, but rather common items like forks and goblets that had been made recently—items that no longer were in use anymore but had once been. She was surprised to see a dagger with the northern king’s insignia on it and a set of cutlery that had the southern queen’s emblem. Very strange. Why would anyone want to keep this here?
She continued to walk down the corridors, alarmed at how quiet it was until she realized she had no idea how to get back to her quarters. Cursing, she continued on, hoping she would see someone who would be able to help her find her way back.
Finally she turned into a corridor to see a young woman who looked a little younger than she, dressed in a brown tunic, cleaning one of the lamp stands in the corridor. She didn’t notice Elora until she was almost right next to her.
“Good day,” Elora said, somewhat shyly. “I’m new here, I just wanted to say hello—”
As she spoke, the girl’s eyes widened and she began to scrub quicker.
Elora frowned, her voice faltering. “There’s no need to be afraid of me,” she said hesitantly. “I just—”
The girl grabbed her cleaning equipment and hurried along the corridor in the opposite direction.
Elora watched her go, puzzled by what just happened. Was she threatening in some way? She glanced down at herself. She wore a similar tunic but in grey, the same slippers, and she was a little shorter than the woman. Sighing, she shrugged it off and continued down the corridor, looking for someone else, but soon discovered it wasn’t just the young woman who’d behaved strangely. All of the servants Elora came across avoided her, either hurrying away when they saw her coming or ignoring her altogether. Elora’s hope struggled to remain strong in the face of their attitudes. Clearly they had all heard something about her, but what would cause them to run away? She tried to find an area where servants were relaxing, where they would be more easygoing and maybe explain things to her, but there was no such place. Everywhere she turned, servants were working; cleaning, polishing, folding fabrics, sweeping, washing… All the things she’d seen before in the other lair, but with a different energy. No one smiled; they all focused heavily on their work and barely spoke. No laughter or chatter filled the corridors. This was not at all like Nyro’s lair; there was no sense of community here at all.
Elora wandered around the hall and corridors trying to find her way back to her quarters, which was proving more difficult than she anticipated. If no one would speak to her, how would she find her way back?
As she was making her way down another corridor she thought she recognized, the whole lair trembled. Elora gasped, grabbing for the wall as she stumbled. But there was nothing to hold onto—the walls were smooth. She pressed herself up against it, her heart pounding as another three trembles shook the corridor, each getting progressively worse.
A young male servant in a green tunic skidded into the corridor and ran down it, trying not to fall as everything shook.
“What’s happening?” Elora called to him as he passed.
His eyes were wide as they locked onto her. “He’s back.”
She didn’t need to ask who. “I can’t find my way back to my quarters,” she said as the man stumbled passed her. “Can you help me?”
The man paused, peering at her. “Stay here. I’ll get someone to come and help you.”
“Thank you,” she called after him.
She slid down the wall and huddled on the floor and hugged her knees, watching him stagger to the end of the corridor and then turn the corner. There was something uncontrollable about this that made her uncomfortable. It was similar to when bombs dropped in the North Cities, filling the air with unbreathable smoke and shaking the ground. It wasn’t something anyone could prepare for or something that could be controlled. And she hated it.
But after a few moments, the trembling stopped. Elora held herself still, keeping her breathing steady. Whatever just happened was not normal. Mountains weren’t supposed to shake, especially not ones that held lairs for the dragorai.
As she got to her feet, Marahl strode round the corner. “There you are,” she said, a harsh annoyance in her tone. “I told you that you would be better entertained by staying in your room and not disturbing any of the other servants.”
Elora stared at her incredulously. “Didn’t you feel the mountain trembling? What was that?”
Marahl exhaled a heavy breath. “Follow me,” she said, turning and heading back the way she came.
Elora followed her. “Is that normal? That trembling of the mountain? Are we safe here?”
“We are safe,” Marahl said firmly. “It’s just something that happens sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“The mountain doesn’t become unstable?”
“You don’t have to worry about anything like that. All of the mountains that house dragorai lairs are structurally sound and reinforced with magic.”