Three days passed in the ancient cave, each one establishing a new routine for Tom Reed. Mornings were spent hunting in the forested valley below, his partially enhanced senses still functional enough to track game despite Skaravosk's dormant state. Afternoons involved gathering useful materials—reeds from the underground stream for weaving, branches for tools, clay from the stream bank for crude pottery. Evenings were dedicated to preparation and reflection, sitting at the small fire he maintained near the cave entrance.
Throughout it all, the silence in his mind remained profound and unsettling. After weeks of constant companionship with Skaravosk's mental presence, the absence felt physical—a persistent emptiness that Tom found himself trying to fill with one-sided conversations.
"Shelter's decent, food's adequate, water's clean," he reported aloud on the evening of the third day, poking at the small fire with a stick. "Almost like being back on campaign, except the company's quieter. And considerably larger."
He glanced toward the deeper recesses of the cave where he sensed, rather than saw, Skaravosk's essence. Though invisible to normal perception, Tom could feel a faint resonance when he ventured into the darkness—a subtle warmth and pressure that suggested draconic presence in some form beyond physical manifestation.
"I've been thinking about our situation," he continued, turning a spitted rabbit over the flames. "Once you wake up, we'll need to make some decisions. The Heroes are probably looking for us by now. The Demon King definitely is. And who knows what those other dragons of yours are planning."
The fire crackled in response, sparks rising toward the cavern ceiling.
"Options are limited, as I see it. We can't hide indefinitely—not after making such a dramatic entrance on the world stage. We can't flee to some remote continent, since your kin would still sense you. And we can't simply surrender to whoever finds us first, since that would likely end badly for both of us."
Tom paused, considering. "Which leaves what? Negotiation from a position of strength? Alliance with one faction against others? Or perhaps a third path none of us have considered yet..."
He fell silent, the habit of strategic analysis continuing despite—or perhaps because of—his solitude. Years of battlefield experience had ingrained in him the need to evaluate scenarios, anticipate threats, and formulate contingencies. Even without Skaravosk's input, the process remained his most natural response to uncertainty.
After finishing his simple meal, Tom moved to the cave entrance, gazing across the darkening valley below. No signs of pursuit had appeared during the three days of his vigil, but he maintained regular perimeter checks nonetheless. The valley's isolation had proven fortunate—no established trails led to this remote location, and the surrounding peaks discouraged casual exploration.
As twilight deepened into true night, stars emerging in the clear mountain sky, Tom settled against the cave wall in his usual position—one that offered both comfort and tactical advantage, with clear sightlines to all potential approaches.
"Goodnight, Skarry," he said to the empty air, the routine phrase now a ritual of connection to his absent partner. "Maybe tomorrow you'll finally stop your draconic snoring and wake up."
Sleep came easily despite his circumstances, his body still recovering from the tremendous energy expenditure of the transformation three days prior. His dreams, when they came, were vivid fragments—memories of battles long past interspersed with more recent experiences, all colored by perspectives that seemed somehow larger and more ancient than his human consciousness should encompass.
In one such dream, he soared above mountains that looked different from those surrounding their current sanctuary—taller, craggier, with peaks that pierced clouds perpetually tinged crimson by some unseen source. Below, creatures that resembled dragons but smaller, less magnificent, scattered at his approach. His dream-self felt satisfied at their fear, a primal emotion that resonated through scales and wing and claw...
Tom woke suddenly, the dream dissipating like mist, leaving only the strange certainty that he had been experiencing one of Skaravosk's memories. The cave around him was dark, the fire reduced to embers casting faint red light that reminded him uncomfortably of the dream's crimson clouds.
He sat up, instantly alert, senses extended to identify whatever had interrupted his sleep. For several heartbeats, nothing seemed amiss. Then he felt it—a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a heaviness in the air that hadn't been present when he'd fallen asleep.
"Skarry?" he ventured cautiously, peering into the darkness deeper in the cave.
No verbal response came, but something else did—a whisper of presence in his mind, faint as dying wind but unmistakably Skaravosk's distinctive consciousness. The dragon wasn't fully awake, not yet communicating intentionally, but the absolute silence of the past three days had broken.
Tom felt an unexpected surge of relief that bordered on joy, immediately followed by pragmatic caution. If Skaravosk was beginning to emerge from dormancy, they would soon need to address the challenges awaiting them. Recovery meant decisions, and decisions meant potential conflict.
He rebuilt the fire, adding larger branches to create both warmth and better illumination. As flames caught and grew, their light reached further into the cavern, casting flickering shadows across stone walls worn smooth by time—and perhaps by the passage of a massive draconic form in ages past.
"If you can hear me at all, things have been quiet," Tom reported, resuming his habit of speaking aloud to his partner. "No pursuit yet, which suggests either they haven't tracked us, or they're biding their time. I've established a perimeter warning system—tripwires and balanced stones that should alert us to any approach."
The faint mental presence didn't respond directly, but Tom thought he sensed a flicker of acknowledgment—like the twitch of a sleeping mind responding to external stimulus without fully waking.
"I've been having dreams," he continued. "Your memories, I think. Flying over mountains, scaring smaller dragons. Was that your territory in the old days?"
Another flicker, stronger this time, accompanied by emotional resonance—pride and a curious melancholy, as if the memory brought both satisfaction and sadness.
"I'll take that as a yes," Tom said, settling back against the wall. "Must have been something, ruling the skies back then."
He dozed again eventually, the fire's warmth and his own lingering fatigue overcoming vigilance. His sleep remained light, however—the soldier's rest that never fully surrendered awareness of surroundings.
Morning came with sunlight streaming through the cave entrance and something new in his mind—a more coherent, focused presence. Not yet communicative, but definitely more active than the previous day's faint whispers.
"Better?" Tom asked as he stretched stiff muscles.
"...improving..." came the response, so faint he almost thought he'd imagined it. But the mental voice was unmistakably Skaravosk's, even in its currently diminished state.
"Welcome back to the land of the conscious," Tom said, genuine warmth coloring his tone. "Sort of, anyway."
"...time...?" The question formed weakly, the dragon's normally precise mental voice fragmented.
"Four days since the Stone Crown," Tom replied. "You've been completely silent for three. Started getting some flickers yesterday evening."
"...longer than... anticipated..." The mental voice strengthened slightly with each exchange, though still far from its usual clarity. "...energy expenditure... significant..."
"Take your time," Tom advised, gathering his makeshift hunting tools. "I'll handle practicalities until you're fully recovered."
He spent the morning as he had the previous three, tracking and bringing down small game in the valley below. His skills had improved with each hunt, compensation for the reduced enhancement now that Skaravosk's energy was focused on recovery rather than augmenting his abilities.
Upon returning to the cave with two rabbits and a collection of edible roots, he found the mental presence noticeably stronger, though still subdued compared to their normal connection.
"Progress is... accelerating," Skaravosk communicated as Tom prepared his catch. "The initial recovery phase required... most resources. Now consciousness can allocate more energy to... restoration of function."
"How long until you're fully recovered?" Tom asked, setting the rabbits to roast over his rekindled fire.
"Difficult to predict precisely. Perhaps another day for mental capacity, longer for full energy restoration. Complete recovery of power reserves may require... weeks."
Tom nodded, absorbing this information with practical consideration rather than disappointment. "Not unexpected. The transformation was... substantial."
An understatement, of course. The manifestation of Skaravosk's true form had been cataclysmic in scale and power, enough to disrupt a Working that had channeled the energies of hundreds of crystal puppets and a Whisper Lord's formidable abilities.
"You've managed well in my absence," the dragon observed, his mental inspection extending to the cave and Tom's survival arrangements. "Adaptable as always."
"Necessary," Tom replied simply. "Though I won't pretend the silence wasn't... disconcerting."
"The separation affected both sides of our partnership," Skaravosk admitted, surprising Tom with this unexpected candor. "Even in dormancy, a portion of my awareness... missed our exchanges."
Tom smiled slightly at this acknowledgment. "Getting sentimental in your old age, Skarry?"
"Merely observational," the dragon countered, though Tom detected the mental equivalent of dry amusement beneath the response. "Our partnership appears to have created... interdependencies beyond the purely practical."
"Friendship, some might call it," Tom suggested, turning the rabbits to cook their other side.
The dragon didn't immediately respond, and Tom wondered if he'd overstepped some boundary. Then, with evident care in forming the thought:
"Friendship. A human concept I've historically viewed with skepticism. Yet perhaps... not entirely inapplicable to our current arrangement."
It was as close to an admission of genuine attachment as the ancient being had ever expressed, and Tom accepted it without further comment. Some things were better left unexamined too closely, especially when they involved the emotional development of beings whose natural state inclined toward solitary existence.
They passed the day in comfortable semi-silence, Skaravosk's presence gradually strengthening, their mental exchanges becoming more sustained and complex. By evening, though still diminished, the dragon could maintain consistent communication without the fragmentation that had characterized his initial responses.
"We should discuss our situation," Skaravosk suggested as darkness fell outside the cave. "Now that I can meaningfully contribute to strategic planning."
"Agreed," Tom said, stoking the fire for the night. "We've revealed your existence to the world. The Demon King knows we disrupted his Working. And you mentioned other Dragon Kings who might be... concerned about your return."
"Accurate assessment," Skaravosk approved. "The Demon King seeks elimination. My kin seek... confirmation of intentions, at minimum."
"And the Heroes from the East? What's your sense of how they'd respond to our appearance?"
Tom felt Skaravosk's presence shift slightly, the mental equivalent of a contemplative pause.
"Unpredictable. Their prophecy may mention dragons, but context would determine whether as allies or threats. Our dramatic manifestation to disrupt the Working may appear destructive from a distance, especially if they weren't aware of the ritual's true purpose."
Tom considered this. "So we could be facing heroes who think we're the villains."
"Possible. Perhaps even likely. Heroes typically operate with incomplete information, acting on visible threats rather than hidden motivations."
"Perfect," Tom muttered sarcastically. "Just what we need—well-intentioned opposition with world-altering power."
"The strategic element remains unchanged," Skaravosk noted. "We must either communicate or evade until full recovery permits more direct options."
The peaceful moment was shattered by a sudden alertness from Skaravosk's partially recovered consciousness.
"Movement approaching," the dragon warned. "Multiple entities with significant power signatures. Coordinated approach pattern from the north ridge."
Tom instantly shifted to combat readiness, moving to a shadowed position near the cave entrance where he could observe without being immediately visible. His enhanced senses detected them moments later—four distinct energy patterns moving with the synchronized precision that could only belong to beings accustomed to functioning as a single tactical unit.
"The Heroes," he murmured, recognizing the power signatures from his distant glimpse of them at Howling Crag months ago. "They've found us."
"Indeed, and approaching with clear offensive intent. Their energy patterns suggest combat readiness rather than diplomatic engagement."
Tom assessed their tactical situation rapidly. The cave offered limited defensive advantages against opponents of the Heroes' caliber. Skaravosk remained in recovery mode, capable of enhancing Tom's abilities but nowhere near full manifestation. And most concerning, the Heroes appeared to be approaching as if confronting an enemy rather than a potential ally.
"Options?" Tom asked tersely, already calculating escape routes versus defensive positions.
"Limited," Skaravosk acknowledged. "Direct confrontation would be ill-advised given our current diminished state. The Heroes' combined power rivals that of Dragon Kings, particularly while I remain in recovery."
"And explaining what actually happened at the Stone Crown?"
"Possible but highly uncertain outcome. They approach with predetermined judgment, likely based on reports of destruction rather than understanding of our intervention. Prophecy-driven entities frequently operate on incomplete information interpreted through predetermined frameworks."
Tom made his decision with the swift certainty that had kept him alive through twenty-three years of warfare. "We run."
"A practical assessment," Skaravosk approved. "Though where?"
"Deeper into the mountains. Away from established trails. Buy time for your recovery while avoiding direct conflict with entities who could be allies if they understood what actually happened."
"As always, your survival instincts remain impeccable."
Tom moved with supernatural speed, gathering their few possessions into his makeshift pack while extending his senses to track the Heroes' approach. They were close now—perhaps ten minutes away, moving with the confident directness of predators who had located their prey.
He caught glimpses of them through the trees—Takashi Yamamoto the Sword Saint leading the formation, his legendary blade already drawn and glowing with ethereal energy. Mei Lin the Shield Maiden flanked him, her barrier shimmering around her forearm like liquid opal. Above them, Hiroshi Nakamura the Storm Caller rode the air currents, electricity crackling between his fingertips as he provided aerial reconnaissance. And somewhere behind, likely Akiko Tanaka the Healer, positioned for maximum protection while maintaining support capability.
"Elite strike team," Tom observed grimly. "Coming in hot."
"Not unexpected. They likely believe us responsible for whatever reports of destruction emerged from the Stone Crown incident. The dimensional backlash from disrupting the Working would have appeared catastrophic to distant sensors."
"Great. So we disrupted a world-ending ritual and get hunted as the villains." Tom secured his pack and moved to the rear of the cave where narrower passages led deeper into the mountain. "Seems about right for my luck."
"Your definition of 'luck' remains peculiar," Skaravosk noted with surprising humor given their situation. "Most would not consider surviving death and merging with a dragon king to be unfortunate circumstances."
"Ask me again when we're not being hunted by four supernaturally powerful heroes," Tom replied, a ghost of a smile crossing his face despite the tension.
He paused at the cave entrance one final time, surveying the valley below for the best escape route. The Heroes' approach path from the north meant heading east or south would provide the greatest initial separation. But longer-term strategic considerations favored the more difficult western route—deeper into the mountain range where the complex terrain would offer more hiding opportunities.
"West," he decided. "Rugged terrain, minimal established trails, natural cave systems for temporary shelter if needed."
"Agreed. Though the initial ascent will expose us briefly before we reach the ridgeline."
"Can't be helped. We move fast, stay low, and hope they're not expecting us to run."
Tom took a deep breath, channeling draconic energy to enhance his physical capabilities for the escape. Not the dramatic wings and scales of combat transformation, but the subtler enhancements to speed, endurance, and sensory acuity that would serve better for evasion.
"Ready?" he asked, though the question was largely rhetorical. Throughout their partnership, Skaravosk had proven as adaptable to changing circumstances as Tom himself.
"Always," came the simple reply.
Without further hesitation, Tom exploded from the cave entrance, not directly west but south initially—a misdirection designed to draw attention before his actual course change. He moved with supernatural speed, accelerating to a pace no ordinary human could match, the landscape blurring around him as enhanced muscles propelled him across the uneven terrain.
He was halfway across the open valley floor when a shout rang out—one of the Heroes had spotted his movement despite the misdirection.
"Target fleeing southwest!" Hiroshi's voice carried clearly through the mountain air, followed by a crack of thunder as the Storm Caller summoned lightning to illuminate the area.
Tom immediately changed direction, veering sharply westward toward the ridgeline that represented their best chance at breaking line of sight. Behind him, he sensed rather than saw the Heroes adjusting their approach, Hiroshi taking to the air for better tracking while the others accelerated to pursue on foot.
"They're faster than expected," Tom observed, pushing his enhanced body to its limits as he began the steep ascent up the western slope.
"The benefits of supernatural origin," Skaravosk noted. "Their physical capabilities exceed conventional human limitations even without specific enhancement."
A bolt of lightning struck the ground twenty yards to Tom's left—not a direct attack but Hiroshi creating illumination to track his movement through the darkness. The electrical discharge briefly lit the entire mountainside, eliminating shadows that might have provided concealment.
"They're not attacking to kill," Tom realized, zigzagging to make tracking more difficult. "They want to capture or confront."
"A potentially advantageous restraint on their part, though it does suggest they wish information rather than simple elimination."
"Small comfort if they catch us before you're recovered enough to explain properly."
Tom reached the ridgeline and immediately dropped to the far side, momentarily breaking line of sight with his pursuers. The western face of the mountain featured more complex terrain—a cascade of broken rock formations, scattered pine forest, and numerous small ravines that created a natural maze for anyone unfamiliar with the area.
Unfortunately, Tom was equally unfamiliar, having spent only four days in this region. He navigated by instinct and tactical assessment, choosing paths that offered maximum cover while maintaining his westward trajectory.
The Heroes adapted quickly to his evasion tactics. Hiroshi remained airborne, using his elevated position to direct the others through the complex terrain. Tom could hear Takashi shouting tactical commands, coordinating their pursuit with military precision.
"They've done this before," he muttered, ducking into a narrow ravine that offered temporary concealment.
"Hunter-killer operations feature prominently in the legends surrounding these Heroes," Skaravosk confirmed. "Precision tracking and neutralization of specific threats rather than conventional battlefield engagement."
"Fantastic. So we're being hunted by a team that specializes in exactly this type of pursuit."
"The practical response would be to utilize capabilities they cannot anticipate."
Tom nodded, understanding the suggestion. "Partial transformation beyond basic enhancement?"
"Precisely. While full draconic manifestation remains beyond our current energy reserves, specific adaptations could provide tactical advantages they aren't prepared for."
Without breaking stride, Tom channeled more draconic energy, focusing on specific modifications suited to their immediate needs. His vision shifted further into the infrared spectrum, allowing better navigation in the growing darkness. His muscles densified, providing greater explosive power for the increasingly vertical terrain. Most significantly, small membranous wings—not large enough for true flight but sufficient for extended leaps and controlled descents—sprouted from his back, tearing through his clothing but providing crucial new mobility options.
The partial transformation completed just as he reached a vertical cliff face that would have forced a detour. Instead, Tom gathered himself and leapt upward, the small wings providing enough lift to carry him nearly thirty feet vertically. His clawed hands found purchase on the rock face, allowing him to scramble over the top and continue his flight without losing momentum.
Behind him, he heard Hiroshi's surprised shout: "He's transforming! Limited wing capability!"
"Intercept at the western saddle!" came Takashi's response. "Mei, cut north to block the pass!"
"They're attempting to herd us southward," Skaravosk observed. "Using terrain knowledge they've gained during their approach to funnel our movement into more exposed areas."
"Then we don't play by their map," Tom decided, suddenly changing direction to head directly up the steepest section of the mountain—a nearly vertical rock face that conventional pursuit would consider impassable.
Using his clawed hands and feet, supplemented by the small wings for balance and occasional lift, Tom ascended the cliff with startling speed. Each handhold that would have challenged a skilled human climber became trivial with his enhanced strength and draconic adaptations.
The Heroes' coordinated pursuit faltered momentarily at this unexpected tactic. Hiroshi could follow aerially, but Takashi and Mei would need to find alternate routes up the mountain, temporarily splitting their unified approach.
"Creating separation," Tom noted with satisfaction as he crested the cliff top and continued westward along a narrow ridge that wound higher into the mountains.
"An effective tactic, though temporary. The Storm Caller maintains visual contact, and their bond appears to include some form of communication beyond conventional means."
True enough—despite the physical separation, Tom could sense the Heroes maintaining their coordinated pursuit, adapting to his unexpected route rather than abandoning it. Hiroshi stayed high above, occasionally using controlled lightning strikes to illuminate the terrain ahead, while Takashi and Mei somehow maintained awareness of his position despite the intervening terrain.
As dawn approached, Tom reached a critical decision point. The ridge he'd been following split, one path continuing westward through increasingly barren terrain, the other descending northward into a densely forested valley shrouded in early morning mist.
"The forest offers better concealment," he reasoned aloud, "but they'll expect that choice."
"Indeed. The predictable route often becomes the most dangerous."
Tom studied the western path, which appeared to lead toward a series of jagged peaks with minimal vegetation or cover. No obvious hiding places, but perhaps that was its advantage—the Heroes would consider it a poor choice for someone attempting to evade pursuit.
"Sometimes the best hiding place is the one no one bothers to check," he decided, continuing westward along the exposed ridgeline.
"An unconventional approach," Skaravosk approved. "Though we'll need another adaptation to compensate for the lack of natural cover."
Tom nodded, understanding what was needed. As he moved, he channeled more draconic energy, focusing now on surface adaptations. His skin and clothing began to shift color and texture, taking on the granite-like appearance of the surrounding rocks—not true invisibility, but a remarkable camouflage that would make him extremely difficult to spot against the mountainous backdrop.
"An impressive application," Skaravosk noted with something like pride. "Your integration of draconic capabilities continues to evolve in creative directions."
"Necessity drives innovation," Tom replied modestly, though he too was pleased with the effectiveness of the adaptation.
The sun crested the eastern horizon as Tom reached a particularly rugged section of the ridge. Below him, he could see the Heroes regrouping at the fork, clearly discussing which path to pursue. Hiroshi hovered above them, scanning both routes with evident frustration—despite his aerial advantage, Tom's camouflage was proving effective even against the Storm Caller's enhanced perception.
After what appeared to be a heated debate, the Heroes split their forces—Takashi and Hiroshi continuing westward along the ridge, while Mei and Akiko descended the northern path into the forested valley.
"They're hedging their bets," Tom observed from his concealed position among a cluster of boulders. "Two-two split to cover both possibilities."
"A reasonable tactical adjustment," Skaravosk acknowledged. "Though it reduces their individual effectiveness significantly."
Tom remained motionless as Takashi and Hiroshi approached his position, their movements careful and methodical as they searched the barren landscape for any sign of their quarry. The camouflage adaptation proved remarkably effective—the Heroes passed within twenty yards of his hiding spot without detecting his presence, their focus largely on the path ahead rather than the seemingly unremarkable rock formation to their side.
"One advantage of being unremarkable," Tom thought with grim amusement. "People tend to overlook you."
He waited until the Heroes had moved well past his position before continuing his own journey, now moving perpendicular to the ridge to further confuse any attempt to track his path. By midday, he had put significant distance between himself and his pursuers, descending into a narrow valley that featured a small stream—welcome hydration after the intense exertion of the escape.
"I think we've successfully evaded them for now," Tom said as he knelt by the stream, cupping water to his parched lips. "Though they're not likely to abandon the search entirely."
"Agreed. Prophecy-driven beings typically exhibit unusual persistence. However, their effectiveness diminishes with increased separation and area to cover."
Tom nodded, surveying their surroundings with tactical assessment. The valley offered both water and potential food sources—he could detect small game moving in the underbrush—but remained too exposed for long-term shelter.
"We should keep moving," he decided. "Find somewhere more defensible for you to continue recovery."
"A sound approach. Though I should note that my energy signature remains significantly diminished, which works to our advantage in one respect—the other Dragon Kings appear unable to detect my presence at current levels."
Tom paused, surprised by this information. "I thought they'd sense your return immediately after the Stone Crown."
"Under normal circumstances, yes. But the full manifestation depleted my essence to such an extent that I currently register as little more than background draconic energy—similar to residual traces left at ancient sites."
"So we have temporary anonymity even from your kin," Tom concluded, seeing the strategic advantage this represented. "That buys us time to recover and formulate longer-term plans without immediate interference from multiple fronts."
"Precisely. Though this advantage will diminish as my energy reserves regenerate."
With renewed determination, Tom continued their journey through the mountains, moving with purpose but caution, avoiding exposed routes and maintaining his adaptive camouflage when crossing open terrain. By nightfall, they had reached a promising location—a small cave set high in a cliff face, accessible only by a difficult climb that would challenge even enhanced beings, with excellent visibility of the surrounding area and multiple potential escape routes should the need arise.
"This will do," Tom decided, setting down his pack and beginning to establish a rudimentary camp. "Defensible, concealed, and far enough from our last known position that search patterns would be unlikely to intersect it without specific intelligence."
"Agreed. And the natural thermal vents in the rear chamber will provide warmth without the risk of a fire's visibility."
As Tom settled in for the night, muscles aching from the day's exertions but mind satisfied with their successful evasion, he felt Skaravosk's presence growing slightly stronger within their shared consciousness—the dragon's recovery continuing despite the energy expenditure required for their escape.
"Rest well, Skarry," he said as he arranged his makeshift bedding near one of the thermal vents. "Tomorrow we start planning our next moves."
"And you as well, Tom Reed," the dragon replied, his mental voice warmer than usual. "Your performance today was... remarkable. For an unremarkable soldier."
Tom smiled at the gentle humor, a rare quality from his ancient partner. "High praise from a being who once ruled the skies."
"Perhaps ruling is overrated compared to successful partnership," Skaravosk observed thoughtfully. "Something my kin have yet to comprehend."
With that surprisingly philosophical statement lingering between them, Tom allowed exhaustion to claim him, drifting into well-earned sleep while Skaravosk maintained vigilant awareness of their surroundings—two beings from entirely different worlds, united by circumstance and increasingly by choice, having successfully evaded forces that would have overwhelmed either alone.
And somewhere far across the mountains, ancient dragons searched in vain for energy signatures too faint to detect, while Heroes pursued phantom trails that led ever farther from their elusive quarry. For the moment at least, Tom and Skaravosk had bought themselves precious time—time to recover, to plan, and to determine their own path forward in a world that seemed increasingly determined to dictate it for them.