Page 44 of Fire's Storm
Metu slams his fist against the stone table, cracking its surface. "We are not villains," he declares, yellow eyes burning with conviction. "We are patriots—the true protectors of our kind, willing to take necessary measures to prevent misguided leadership from destroying everything we've preserved."
Not monsters. Saviors. Remember that.
"The Ancestral Flame Protocol is not what they believe it to be." Elder Khorne moves to a hidden alcove, scales scraping against stone as he retrieves an ancient scroll case. His movements betray uncharacteristic agitation. "It was never meant to be spiritual salvation."
The scroll case bears seals that haven't been seen in the sanctuary for generations—marks of the Ancient Conclave that governed dragon-kind before The Sundering. Khorne breaks the seals with ceremonial precision, his claws delicate despite their lethal appearance.
The other conspirators lean forward, eyes fixed on the yellowed parchment as Khorne unfurls it with reverent care. The script is older than any currently taught in the sanctuary, symbols twisting and flowing in patterns that seem to move on the page.
"The original texts describe a weapon network," Khorne explains, tracing the symbols with a scaled fingertip. "Elemental bonds structured for coordinated deployment—Guardian creating protective barriers, Tempest generating concentrated energy, Memory producing focused information control, Sovereign establishing authority foundations."
"A military system rather than mystical connection," Sarla translates, her amber eyes narrowing as she studies the diagrams. "Designed for war rather than harmony."
"Precisely." Khorne nods, ruby eyes reflecting the crystal lights. "Created during the Human Conflicts when our kind faced extinction through mortal technological advancement. Dragon magic versus human machinery."
The ancient dragon's scales ripple with remembered fear, though he wasn't alive during those dark times. The memory lives in their collective bloodline, passed down through generations.
"And it worked too well," Sarla concludes. "Creating power beyond its controlling framework."
Metu feels his dragon half stir with primal recognition as he studies the diagrams. Something in his blood responds to the patterns depicted on the ancient scroll—elemental nodes connected through bonds, power flowing in circuits designed for destruction rather than creation.
"The Sundering was not enemy action but system failure," Khorne reveals, voice heavy with the weight of forbidden knowledge. "Bond corruption spreading through the connected network, elemental degradation transferring through linked systems, power deterioration transmitting through the united structure until catastrophic collapse."
The ancient dragon's hands shake slightly as he refurls the scroll. For a moment, his certainty seems to waver. He looks down at his scaled hands, ruby eyes dimming.
"At least, this is what the restricted histories tell us." His voice drops to a whisper. "I pray to our ancestors that our interpretation is correct. The cost of action is high—but the cost of inaction could be extinction."
The moment passes quickly as he looks up, resolve returning to his ancient eyes.
Metu's claws extend fully as he paces the chamber, unable to contain his agitation. "And now Raak celebrates these same bonds reestablishing," he snarls, smoke curling from his nostrils. "Positioning coincidental human-dragon pairings as destiny fulfillment rather than dangerous reconstitution."
"Without the necessary control systems the original network had," Sarla adds.
"Leading inevitably toward a similar catastrophic outcome," Elder Khorne concludes.
"We are not against progress," Metu declares, yellow eyes blazing as he confronts his own reflection in a crystal formation. His partially shifted face stares back at him—obsidian scales covering his cheekbones, eyes glowing with inner fire, teeth sharpened to points. "We are against extinction mistakenly pursued under progress's banner through ignorant reconstruction of a system that nearly destroyed our kind alongside human civilization."
Not monsters. Saviors.
Metu slams his palm against a crystal map of the sanctuary, the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone wall behind it. "Direct opposition has proven ineffective," he growls, scales rippling across his shoulders. "The trial challenge strengthened their position rather than weakening it."
Sarla circulates the room like a predator, her movements fluid and dangerous. Her fingers drum rapid patterns on the hilt of a concealed blade. "Their partnered approachprovides unprecedented effectiveness," she states, amber eyes calculating. "Traditional attack methods will fail."
"Political resistance is equally counterproductive," Metu grumbles. "Council majority sides with the progressive faction after that display."
"Historical warning falls on deaf ears," Elder Khorne contributes, his ancient voice weary.
A low growl builds in Metu's chest as he paces. His dragon half pushes against his control, demanding action, demanding violence. The scent of his own rage fills his nostrils, sharp and acrid.
"What precisely are we proposing?" Sarla questions, her tone shifting to clipped efficiency. She moves directly into Metu's path, forcing him to stop his agitated pacing. Her amber eyes lock with his yellow ones, predator to predator.
Metu's teeth sharpen to points as he speaks. "Not assassination," he states immediately, claws flexing at his sides. "Killing them would create martyrs while potentially triggering uncontrolled energy release."
"Not kidnapping," Sarla adds. "Removing them would generate an extensive search."
"Not exile enforcement," Elder Khorne contributes, ruby eyes fixed on the ancient scrolls. "Separation from clan protection would eliminate our monitoring capability."
Metu's dragon half snarls in frustration, wanting simpler, more direct solutions. His scales spread further across his chest, the obsidian patterns shifting with each agitated breath.
