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duskandstarlight · 3 years

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Embers & Light (Nessian multichapter fic)

Chapter 19 - Nesta

This is too long for Tumblr, so read part of it below but all of it on A03.

Emerald blazed threateningly in the dark forest and Nesta’s stomach lurched.

She wanted to snap at Cassian to move — to do something to stop the Illyrian from firing his arrows — but he remained fixed in place, his siphons winking but unused, as if he were out of power. He was still holding Nesta behind him, his grip tight around her arm. And Nesta knew, as surely as breathing, that he would do anything to make sure that she remained unharmed — even if he had yet to move a muscle.

Slowly, Cassian held up his other hand in surrender. Again, the siphon on the finger straps of his leathers flashed through the darkening forest.

“It’s me, Lorrian.”

Hard hazel eyes scanned over them both and Nesta watched them flicker in recognition as they settled on Cassian.

With an angry growl, the Illyrian lowered his bow. His wings flared before they retracted back in again, the same way Cassian’s did when he was pissed off.

“You couldn’t have just warned us of your arrival in your usual fashion, you stupid prick? What the fuck happened to you?”

The males voice was bass and sonorous. It bounced off the trees and rattled through Nesta in a way that made her bones feel brittle. She watched those sharp eyes flit around the dell. His expression turned grim as he took in the charcoaled and bloody remains.

“Fucking kerits, that’s what,” Cassian snapped. “A whole pack of them. Since when do they come this far down from the mountains? We nearly died.”

The males expression turned grim. He kicked at a severed head and Nesta watched it roll into the foliage, tongue still pink and lolling. “I’ve never seen them down here before. What was that silver streak? It looked like fire. It shook the perimeter like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I thought the house was going to come down.”

“That was Nesta,” Cassian explained shortly. “We were trying to get to safety. I thought her magic might pierce through Frawley’s magic. Instead, it felt like a cannon had gone off. It scared off the rest of the kerits and threw me into a boulder.”

Wincing, Cassian brought a hand to his shoulder as if he were remembering the impact. “It near dislocated my shoulder.”

Cassian turned to Nesta then, a critical eye running over her body. Despite her blood splattered face and hair, Nesta was otherwise unharmed. The kerits hadn’t even come close to touching her. She’d incinerated her half circle and Cassian had dealt with his.

“Any injuries I should know about?” he asked her.

Nesta shook her head, but Cassian’s gaze lingered on her a few moments longer, as if he weren’t sure he believed her. Even she was suffering from disbelief; they had been so outnumbered it seemed a miracle that neither of them were suffering from major injuries.

When Cassian seemed satisfied she wasn’t hiding anything, he waved a tired hand. “Nesta meet Lorrian. Although Lorrian is Illyria’s best aerial warrior, it would appear your power managed to scare the shit out of him — congratulations.”

The stern expression of the male - Lorrian - did not disappear at the introduction, and Nesta watched him cross his arms tightly across his muscled chest, the green magic of his right arm flaring from the movement. His piercing look was one of a warrior but Nesta did not flinch, she just stared right back. She was well versed in staring down opponents — what was another Illyrian bat?

It only took a few seconds for Cassian’s words to sink in. Lorrian’s eyes cut sharply from Nesta to Cassian. “Are we talking of the female who killed the King of Hybern?”

Cassian’s hand was instantly on the small of Nesta’s back as she stiffened habitually. The gesture was unusual; Cassian rarely touched her without cause. She resisted the urge to bat him away. When Lorrian tracked the movement she knew why Cassian had done it. It was protective — he was telling Lorrian where his loyalties lay.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, Nesta felt something primal growl.

It made her want to seethe at the same time her body melted into the sound.

“That would be the very same female,” Cassian said with a lightness that was laced with warning. “Feel free to thank her any time.”

A beat of silence followed as the warrior examined the female before him, but then Lorrian’s hardened expression relaxed, and in its wake — a smile. It transformed his face in the same way Cassian’s changed from General to the male she knew when he was off-duty. It was an intentional crack in his armour and the open vulnerability of the action did not escape Nesta. Never had she been that willing to shed her mask for someone she had met moments before. Even her sisters hadn’t seen all of her.

“Well, why didn’t you say? It’s good to meet you, Nesta Archeron.”

A large hand was thrust out towards her — the one that wasn’t glazed in emerald light — for Nesta to shake.

Nesta hesitated for a moment before she moved to grasp Lorrian’s hand. His hazel eyes were sincere and his gaze unwavering, and although her movements were stiff and measured, she made sure her handshake was firm when she grasped his own, even if her hands were spotted with blood.

Lorrian didn’t seem to mind. He bowed his head respectfully at her before he turned to Cassian. It was not a move that Nesta had seen any other Illyrian male do to another female.

“You had better come inside in case there’s anything else lurking about. Frawley will want to see you and you could both do with cleaning up. When she learns about the kerits, she might not be so pissed that you tried to break through her protective magic.”

Cassian winced. “If the witch bids it, I suppose we better.”

Lorrian barked a laugh as he held up his palm to gap between the boulders. It was identical to what she and Cassian did when they entered the bungalow. Emerald siphons flared and the invisible barrier began to fizzle away from the inside out; a splash of gold in the dark.

Exhaustion was pressing on Nesta so keenly that she had to summon all of her focus into getting her body to move forward. Cassian seemed to sense it, his eyes flickering briefly with remorse as they both followed Lorrian to the gap between the boulders. For a moment, Nesta thought Cassian was going to offer to carry her but he clearly thought better of it, gesturing for her to walk through the pocket before him with that crooked half-smile of his.

The hole in the protective bubble sealed with more fizzling, golden light as soon as Cassian had passed through. With it came an overwhelming sense of relief. Unlike the woodland they had left behind them, the forest here felt lighter, as if it were completely devoid of threat. Around them, the woody terrain was alive with movement: birds sung in the trees and small animals scuttled amongst the foliage. Even the trees and plants seemed to take on a brighter and more vibrant quality, the green so lush that if Nesta weren’t so weary, she would bend down to run her fingers through the fluffy woodruff with its constant smattering of tiny, white flowers that grew beneath the pine trees.

“So what actually brought you both here?”

Lorrian’s voice broke Nesta out of her reverie. He was speaking over his shoulder and he looked at Nesta first before his eyes travelled beyond her to land on Cassian. They were walking in single file down a narrow track between the trees, with Lorrian leading the way and with Cassian at the rear. Nesta had no doubt that it was an intentional positioning from Cassian. She could still feel his urge to protect combined with guilt that laced her stomach. The latter was no doubt eating away at him. He clearly hadn’t thought the barrier would react so strongly to her fire or that they would be in danger in the forest.

“I haven’t seen you for a few months,” Lorrian finished. His pointed look at Cassian told Nesta that a visit was overdue. “I imagine it wasn’t your intention to be hijacked by kerits.”

“I took Nesta to see Kamanam today,” Cassian told Lorrian after he had huffed a dark laugh. “We were close by so I thought we’d say hello. We were surrounded by those cackling shits as we headed down into the dell.”

Lorrian stared at Cassian for a little too long but he only nodded silently to show that he had heard. His siphons glowed and with it, the bow and arrows strapped to his back disappeared. The light encasing his arm also vanished, revealing nothing but air from a few inches below Lorrian’s shoulder. His leathers had been tailored to accommodate for his missing limb, the fabric sewn neatly around the stump.

“And how did you like Kamanam, Nesta?” Lorrian asked.

Knowing not to stare at the male’s missing arm, Nesta kept her gaze straight ahead. The path had widened and Lorrian dropped back a few steps so he was side-by-side with her. The movement was slightly laboured, as if he were adjusting to the loss of balance. He was watching Nesta with apprehension — as if he were expecting her to recoil. Nesta wanted to tell him that she was broken too and that she didn’t care to judge anybody, but as usual, her throat had become too tight so she flicked her eyes up to meet his head on.

Something that Nesta translated as respect tinged with relief flickered behind Lorrian’s irises, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed, as she managed to admit, “The Arches are very beautiful.”

But then we nearly died, Nesta wanted to say, but didn’t.

The conversation was such a stark contrast to moments before — casual rather than frenzied — but from the unease laced with pine that sat heavily within her, Nesta knew that this was Cassian’s coping mechanism; feigning joviality because otherwise the gravity of what had happened would be too much.

And Lorrian seemed to know that, too.

His head bobbed. “You should come back on a clear day. Get this one to fly you over the water.” He jerked his head to Cassian who was still a few paces behind. “Frawley and I do it even now, and we’ve been living here for years.”

“If you think I’m ancient,” Cassian told Nesta, the low rumble of his voice travelling the distance, “then you should ask Frawley how old she is. She’s never answered me and I’m still burning with curiosity.”

Lorrian chuckled. “Don’t do that, Nesta. Not if you want to live, at least.”

Lorrian’s features were nothing but friendly now and in the dappled light between the trees, Nesta was able to study him more closely. His dark, curly hair was cropped close to his head and flecked with silver. If Lorrian were human, Nesta would guess that he was forty-or-so, but she had no idea what that made him in Fae terms. He was leaner than Cassian, which wasn’t wholly a surprise; Nesta had never met an Illyrian who was larger or stronger than Cassian. Even so, Lorrian’s remaining arm was still corded with impressive muscle and his skin was marked with the same black tattoos, interspersed with scars.

Nesta couldn’t find it in herself to reply to Lorrian. Perhaps she should have felt warier that she was about to meet a witch, but with every step they took through the woodland, the worse she felt. Her brain became more foggy, her limbs weighing her down like lead. And on top of it all, an all-consuming sense of exhaustion had overcome her.

If she were alone, Nesta would have curled up on the forest floor and made her bed amongst the woodruff and wooly thyme.

“Home sweet home.”

Lorrian’s words pierced through the fog and Nesta managed to drag her eyes up from the soft undergrowth to look ahead of her.

They had just navigated a sharp right-hand turn in the dirt path, and in the distance Nesta could make out a large, thatched cottage. The walls were the colour of magnolia and the red brick chimney was spouting soft billowy smoke.

Yet, whilst it appeared to be a beautiful sanctuary, Nesta found her spine stacking stiffly against her. Nesta hadn’t stepped foot in anyone’s home except Cassian’s in months, and he was the only person who knew she was afraid of fire. How many open and roaring hearths were there going to be in the cottage? How was she going to avoid losing control when already she felt like someone was closing a fist around her windpipes? How was she going to step over threshold without losing it completely? How was she —

Worry stabbed through Nesta so fiercely that her breath caught. She was so preoccupied in trying to take air into her lungs that she didn’t have a spare thought to identify that it wasn’t her own. As they neared the property, Nesta barely saw the chickens in the coop or the horses in the paddock. She didn’t even notice the honeysuckle — her favourite — that climbed up the exterior walls of the cottage. Her lungs rattled as panic clawed through her. Silver spluttered and died at her fingers, her power still too spent from earlier to protect her. Something cracked inside of her; light rushing into the dark, icy water rushing over warm sand.

“Nesta.”

In the far distance, she heard her name but it was muffled. She felt as if she were drowning underwater. It felt like the Cauldron all over again.

She choked on air.

“Nesta.”

This time the sound had a distinctive voice. Something turned inside of her, like a key clicking in a lock, and as her vision started to clear, she made out the large shadowed outline of a male as he stepped towards her. Startled, Nesta flew backwards, an unknown burst of energy taking hold of her. Her hands instinctively balled into fists, but then the scent of pine and musk washed over her and with it came a sense of calm and clarity.

Slowly, her fists unfurled.

“It’s just me,” Cassian said. His words floated towards her. He was still nothing but shadow; large, muscular body and impressive wings. “I’m going to touch you. Ok?”

A strangled noise emitted from her throat and then a large, warm hand was resting on her cheek.

Unthinkingly, Nesta reached up to grab it. Her fingers closed around the hand as her eyes started to see again.

Cassian’s face swam into view. Even through the cracked and dried blood, the concern etched upon his face was so stark she knew that he believed himself responsible for her trauma.

Taking her hand, Cassian rested her palm flat over his chest. Beneath leather and skin, she could feel the pounding of his heart as it threw itself hard against his ribcage, and in her stomach… so much guilt the emotion was bitter on her tongue.

“Breathe with me,” he ordered, before he proceed to take a long, slow breath in.

The sensation of air rushing into his chest was like a balm, and Nesta found herself following his breathing until her lungs no longer rattled and her vision righted completely.

“Is it the chimney?” Cassian asked when her breathing became even, enough that she was no longer gasping. “Or is it... everything that just happened?”

Nesta’s fingers curled around his hand and pressed once into his palm at the same time as she nodded. Both.

“The fire won’t make any noise,” he promised her. “I’d say I’d take you home, but you look like you’re going to collapse and the flight is over an hour.”

Even as he spoke, she knew that if she insisted he would take her back to Windhaven. There was such sincerity in his voice and expression that it hurt to look at him, so she cast her eyes beyond him to their surroundings.

Lorrian was nowhere to be found. Dread twisted through her and that panic started to rise again.

“Where—” Nesta started, but her breath had started to shudder again so she trailed off. There was no point in asking anyway. Of course Lorrian had witnessed it all. No doubt Cassian had asked him to go inside to give them some privacy.

The knowledge was mortifying.

“I asked Lorrian to go inside and silence the fires.”

He squeezed Nesta’s fingers then. She still hadn’t let go of him. The warmth of his touch was comforting against her ice cold skin. It chased away the numbness that was hovering over her like a threat.

“Lorrian suffers from battle trauma, too,” Cassian told her. “You saw his arm?”

Nesta dipped her chin. The action took all of her effort.

“He’s fighting a lot of demons. He won’t mention it. Neither will Frawley. She’s Lorrian’s wife. She’s a witch — she can magic the fire so it won’t make any noise.”

Silence stretched between them. Nesta tried to process his words and form a response, but it was too difficult. The heaviness was washing over her again and already she had started to become unfeeling.

As if Cassian could sense that he was losing her, he dragged a coarse thumb over the back of her hand. The sensation was muted, as if it were happening far, far away.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.

Nesta stared at him. She wanted to frown and ask him why, but words had become difficult again.

Cassian shook his head. The gesture was remorseful and… he was angry at himself. “I shouldn’t have taken you here. Frawley’s portion of the forest has always been the safest—”

“Cassian.”

Cassian broke off as a small, petite female walked briskly towards them. She was wearing a long smock dress which was belted loosely at the waist with leather and made up of different shades of grey. The way her skirts swished around her as she moved gave off the illusion that she was walking through smoke. Pure, white hair fell just below the female’s shoulders and as she came closer, Nesta saw that her eyes were different colours; the left honey brown and the right ice blue. The effect was so startling that half of her face seemed to be bathed in light and the other in dark.

“You scared the shit out of my husband,” she told Cassian brusquely, as she drew up short in front of them.

Cassian made a noise in the back of his throat. The sound reverberated through Nesta. “Did he tell you about the kerits?”

The female — Frawley — snorted in an unkempt sort of way that would have resulted in upturned noses if they were in the human realm. Nesta got the impression that Frawley wouldn’t care. She struck Nesta as the sort of female whose mannerisms were clipped and to-the-point. She didn’t seem like the sort of person who would give a second thought to lady-like behaviour and would impale anyone who decided that they should put her down.

“Introduce me to your companion, Cassian,” Frawley ordered. “And I’ll pretend not to know that this is Nesta Archeron until you do so.”

Cassian grunted in exasperation but his pupils were no longer dark. He had turned to greet Frawley but he hadn’t let go of Nesta’s hand. Frawley’s ice blue eye darted down to glance at it. Cassian squeezed her fingers before he let go, his hand immediately finding purchase on the small of her back again. Encouragement, she realised, for the social situation he knew she did not want to be in.

This time Nesta didn’t want to bat him away. She felt frayed and raw, his touch the only thing keeping her tethered to the present.

“Frawley, meet Nesta Archeron. Nesta, Frawley is the witch who oversees the Eastern territory of The Steppes. And,” he said with a deliberate pause for emphasis, “is supposed to keep the beasts in the forest under control.”

Frawley made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat at Cassian’s words but she did not retaliate. She only rested her disconcerting eyes on Nesta. They seemed to work independently of one another and brown found Nesta after blue.

“We can’t leave it solely to males to protect, can we Nesta?” Frawley clipped. “Now, do come in, it’s getting dark and Caerleon gets forlorn when I leave him inside for too long.”

As she spoke, a sound halfway between a whine and a roar came from the cottage door. Frawley looked pointedly at them as if to indicate the sound had proven her point, before she turned sharply on her heel.

Somehow Nesta made her legs move, even though she wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground. As if he knew how badly she was faring, Cassian kept his hand on her lower back. The sensation alone was enough to keep her upright. She would not add to her burning shame by having to be carried across the threshold. It was bad enough that Cassian had to fly her everywhere as it was.

“That’s quite some power you expelled.” Frawley threw Nesta a discerning look over her shoulder. “I bet you’re feeling drained.”

“Yes,” Nesta said simply, because she couldn’t say anything more.

“Nothing I can’t sort out,” Frawley clipped as she opened the cottage door. It was a wooden stable door, the top half already open. Nesta saw a blur of sandy fur and she tensed instinctively.

A thumb caressed her back, the movement soothing against the sudden terror that gripped her — telling her that it was ok, that the kerits had gone and they were safe.

“Calm down Caer, you stupid Manticore, it’s just Cassian,” Frawley snapped, but a huge moving body of light tan fur jostled the female to the side. Frawley growled in irritation but Nesta barely heard it, she was too busy staring at the beast that had emerged in the doorway.

It was massive. At first, Nesta thought it was a huge lion with a long shaggy mane made of burnt orange, but as it prowled towards her, she could see large, leathery wings on its back and its tail, which was flicking at the tip, was not made up of a tuft of hair but of long spikes like that of a porcupine. The beast’s large paws thudded on the earth and its eyes were molten gold. It was beautiful and deadly and if Nesta had it in her to be afraid she would have already been running.

She took a step backwards, bumping into Cassian’s hard chest.

“Don’t mind Caerleon,” Frawley called quickly to Nesta. She had obviously seen the blood drain from her face. She pronounced the name kaa-lee-uhn, the mystical name rolling off her tongue effortlessly. “He looks terrifying but he’s essentially a big teddy bear when he’s at home.”

Nesta remained stock still as the animal came to a stop a few feet in front of her. It stared at her, its head low and its tail flicking, as if it were measuring her up.

Then Caerleon’s eyes slid to Cassian.

The manticore’s body straightened and his tail shot straight up, curling into a question mark, the needles of his tuft relaxed and soft like the spines of a thistle.

To Nesta’s amazement, the animal trotted over to Cassian with a low whine that sounded like a greeting.

“Hello you beautiful beast,” Cassian said with a low laugh.

Caerleon knocked his head hard into Cassian’s upper torso, rubbing his face against the leather like a cat branding its owner. Dropping his hand from Nesta, Cassian buried his fingers deep into the animal’s mane and ruffled the fur. Caerleon’s purr rumbled so deep that Nesta felt it in her chest but she was reeling from the loss of contact.

It was startling and Nesta felt cold.

She began to slip.

Frawley tutted. “Cassian is the only Fae Caer has ever met who is large enough not be knocked back when he does that. Now, you come with me, Nesta. You look dead on your feet.”

Nesta allowed herself to be led through the hallway, straight into a wide, open kitchen. Frawley sat Nesta down at a large, worn pine table opposite the huge hearth. As promised, the fire was silent, the flames dancing gently as they licked their way up the chimney as if the quiet had brought them calm. The knowledge that there would be no cracking bones eased the tight set of Nesta’s shoulders, even if she did feel like she was hovering above her body, looking down at herself.

She looked very ill, that much she knew, but she couldn’t speak or will her expression into something better. Even her neck felt heavy, the thought of turning to look for Cassian too much, so she stared at the silent fire until she became entranced.

In the distance, Nesta heard clattering — someone moving about the kitchen — and then a warm mug was pressed into her ice-cold hands.

“Drink this,” a stern voice told her. “It’s not too hot, so drink it right up.”

Nesta did as she was told. It tasted of chamomile and honey and... something she couldn’t put her finger on. She didn’t care to ask. With each sip, Nesta felt her body hum and tingle until her body realigned and she was just Nesta sitting in a stranger’s kitchen.

Frawley must have sensed a change in her because she took Nesta’s mug. With a swish of her charcoal skirts she walked over to a steaming cast iron pot on the stove and ladled some more liquid into it.

“Better?” Frawley asked as she handed it back to Nesta. “Best drink another cup. You expelled an awful lot of power in one go.”

Nesta frowned, thinking back to how her power had leapt to the clearing between the boulders.

“I couldn’t stop it,” she told Frawley. “I tried to sever the connection.”

Read the rest of the chapter here.

#acosf #acotar #cassian #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #nessianfic #nestaarcheron #nesta

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razieltwelve · 3 years

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Solaris (RWBY AU Snippet)

Yang peered down at the verminous multitudes that covered the plain. The Grimm were deadly foes, not simply because of the raw might and power that their mightiest members wielded but also because of the sheer numbers they could call forth. More than one city had fallen beneath a tide of claws and teeth despite having more than capable defenders.

This city was in much the same sort of position. She could feel the rhythmic flare of magic as the city’s defenders tried to simultaneously reinforce their position and pelt the oncoming mass of Grimm with whatever offensive magic they could muster. Bolts of fire, lightning, ice, and even acid rained down on the horde, but the disparity in numbers was simply too much.

On the walls, the city’s guardsmen were locked in brutal melee combat as they fought to keep the Grimm from breaching the city. Larger Grimm, some the size of the titanic mammoths that roamed the frozen ends of the world, thundered into the walls. Cracks spread through the stone bulwark, and the city’s mages shifted their efforts to try to bring the beasts down before they could smash their way through.

Elsewhere, Grimm fliers fought the city’s ever-dwindling ranks of griffin, wyverns, and drake riders. Some of the Grimm were vaguely reptilian in shape whilst others looked more like gargoyles. What they lacked in tactics, they made up for in sheer ferocity. A wyvern riders might strike down three or four of them only to be brought down as a dozen more swarmed them.

Beneath her, Ember Celica gave a low, ominous rumble of barely contained fury. The dragon’s scales were no longer simply warm to the touch, they were burning hot. If Yang hadn’t been linked to the dragon as her rider, her armour would already have begun to melt as her flesh burned away. A dragon’s rage burned hot, and few dragons could match the fury of a solar dragon.

“Yeah.” Yang agreed, knowing what her dragon wanted to do before she’d even given voice to the desire. “Let’s do this.”

Beating her mighty wings, Ember Celica soared higher, her golden scales gleaming in the moonlight as her flight carried her through the thin, low-lying clouds. Surveying the battlefield one last time, both Yang and the dragon closed their eyes in something that was equal parts prayer and meditation.

X X X

The most famous dragons were those born of fire and ruin. Their scales were a the red of blood, and their flames burned as hot as the molten heart of the world.

However, there were also dragons born of light and spirit. Their scales were a radiant white, and their fire was a purifying blaze that seared all that was impure.

But every now and then, a dragon was born that was a combination of both, a dragon born with one parent of fire and ruin and another of light and spirit. Such dragons had scales of purest gold, and their flames were taken from the sun itself.

Solar dragons.

To their friends and allies, their flames brought only warmth and healing. But to their enemies? Fire and ruin. It was the duality of the sun: a force that could nourish crops yet also leave empty deserts of bleached bone and cracked earth.

X X X

The sun-blessed were those who wielded fire and light as their magic. Yang’s father was one of them, and she had inherited her magic from him. For as long as she could remember, she had always felt the warmth of the sun within her. But as she’d grown older, that warmth had become a searing blaze that she could turn on her foes.

The moment that she’d met Ember Celica, she’d known that she and the dragon were meant for each other. The sun called to them both, and it bound them together. Like a raging inferno drawing strength from its own heat, they were stronger together than they ever would be apart.

X X X

“Oh crap.” Ruby looked up as Crescent Rose smashed another Grimm out of the air with her tail and then turned to incinerate several more with a blast of flame. “Yang and Ember Celica are going to cut loose.”

Weiss followed her gaze and paled. “Oh crap.” Beneath her, Myrtenaster winced and nodded in agreement.

A moment later, the shadows beneath one of the largest Grimm fliers split to reveal Gambol Shroud. The dragon disembowelled her foe with an almost bored expression before rolling over to toss the wounded Grimm toward the earth. On her back, Blake followed their gaze.

“Oh crap.”

Similar reactions were coming from the city and its defenders.

Above them all, the light of the moon was gone. In its place was a blazing orb of golden light that would have put even the sun to shame. It cast its blinding radiance across the battlefield, banishing the near twilight that had dominated ever since the sun had set.

But now a new sun had risen, and it was pissed off and out for blood.

X X X

There are many things that make solar dragons dangerous. Physically, they are amongst the most impressive of all dragons. They are large, even for dragons, and their claws and teeth are incredibly sharp. Their scales are largely impervious to physical and magical attack, and although they aren’t the most agile in the air, they can move with impressive speed despite their size.

But what makes solar dragons especially fearsome is their ability to store energy. Blessed by the sun itself, they can store the sun’s light within themselves and unleash it during battle. Given enough time and enough sunlight, there is almost not limit to the devastation they can unleash.

X X X

Rather than a blast of fire, what left Ember Celica’s mouth was closer to a beam of pure sunlight. It sliced down through the sky and struck the ground with a sound like every hammer in the world hitting home at the same time. The ground shook, the night trembled, and the world turned white.

The explosion ripped outward, a swiftly-expanding dome of sun-born devastation. The Grimm caught in its path were incinerated instantly, their bodies reduced to ash that was blasted away a split-second later. The strongest of their number managed to endure for a few moments before they too were swept away.

A savage smile crossed Yang’s lips.

“Let no enemy stand before the sun.”

And Ember Celica answered, replying with another ancient proverb. And let the sun’s light shine across all of Creation.

The blast continued to grow, a roiling, boiling cloud of light that was so bright that they were the only two who could stand to look at it directly. Yet despite the absolute carnage it wrought on the Grimm, their allies were unharmed. No soldier was burned. No mage was blinded. No defender of the city was so much as scratched.

This was the the power all solar dragons strove to achieve. This was the duality of the sun. This was a power that could crush their enemies without mercy or restraint yet never harm their allies.

And it was very, very tiring to use.

As the attack finally began to fade, Ember Celica’s wings faltered. The massive dragon shuddered, and Yang poured as much of her power as she could spare into her dragon to help her.

“Blake!” Yang barked. “Gambol Shroud!”

The shadow dragon and her rider rose up to meet them as Ember Celica began her descent. The solar dragon was definitely flagging now. Using so much of her own power plus her stored energy meant that she was struggling just to stay aloft.

Tendrils of shadows moved to help them, and Gambol Shroud’s efforts were soon aided by those of Myrtenaster. Elaborate circles of magic formed around Ember Celica, easing her burden and helping her glide gently to the ground as Crescent Rose circled, both her and Ruby keeping an eye out for any threats that might have survived.

As soon as Ember Celica touched the ground, the dragon took a deep, shuddering breath, and slumped onto her side.

I think I might have gone overboard.

Yang chuckled and patted her scales. Her own weariness was catching up to her, and she could feel the beginnings of a headache forming in the back of her skull. Yep. She’d probably spend the next couple of days resting to deal with magical exhaustion. On the upside, she was pretty confident they’d dealt with the Grimm.

“Totally worth it though, right?”

Ember Celica’s gaze swept over the Grimm-cleansed landscape. Although her golden scales were duller than usual, her toothy grin said it all.

Yes.

X X X

Author’s Notes

Ember Celica is basically the big gun on their team. Admittedly, Gambol Shroud’s power is more flexible, Myrtenaster has a whole library of magic at her disposal, and there’s nothing in the air that can match Crescent Rose’s speed and agility, but when it comes to just raw, undiluted power, none of the others can match Ember Celica.

What makes her even more powerful is that she and Yang share overlapping forms of magic, which means that as rider and dragon, their powers reinforce each other. Ember Celica’s ability to store sunlight is one of the reason she’s often seen basking or lounging about in the sun, and its also why her scales tend to glow. The more energy she has stored, the brighter her scales will usually be. After expending that energy, her scales will be duller until she has absorbed more energy again.

In a direct confrontation, a fully-charged solar dragon is one of the most deadly things in the world. The only efficient way to deal with one is to evade and draw the battle out to get them to expend their stored energy because if you try to fight them head on, their durability is high enough to survive basically anything you throw at them and their damage output is so ridiculously high that you will be unlikely to live longer than a few seconds if they get their hands on you.

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#rwby #fanfiction #yang xiao long #ember celica #ruby rose #crescent rose #weiss schnee #myrtenaster #blake belladonna #gambol shroud team rwby

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