This was originally written on August 26th, 2020 as a prompt for a Dungeons and Dragons campaign idea set in Eberron. It has been republished here for your reading pleasure.

Stumbling on the crumbled road, Blair caught herself on her hands, avoiding cracking her skull against the old cobbles that had since eroded on the edge of Lake Galifar. Ever since Aundair had abandoned the roads on the western side of the Wynarn, they had fallen into disarray. She was conflicted. In the Eldeen woods she was used to travelling along the forest floor, moving quickly and never staying out in the open. Here, along the shores of the lake, she felt exposed.

Regaining herself, she paused and admired the lake as a moment of respite. On her left side the cliffs tumbled and fell below her to the midnight waters of the lake below, the ebb and flow of the lakeshore still powerful. The lake stretched on and on, filling her eastern horizon. She knew that dangers lay beyond it; both literal and figurative. It didn’t matter. She had a mission.

The sun beat down overhead as she continued her travel, passing few others along the beaten down roads connecting a small network of Eldeen towns along the lake. They were Eldeen in name only; the occupants of the town probably called themselves Aundain and for all intents and purposes were. The last war had changed the borders, but changing people took a much longer time.

It had been about a day since she had left Cree, and it would be at least one more before she arrived in Varna. She did not look forward to it. Alone, it was hard. But she didn’t have Lazaar anymore, and she still needed to carry the mission to Sharn. It was the best shot she had in finding a group of people skilled enough for the coming mission.

The afternoon was long and hot, and Blair decided she had enough of the path. She longed for the safety of the towering wood, the coolness of the forest floor, but no. Despite the danger of shifting on the wide open road, she did it anyway.

Her nose elongated into a snout, and she felt her ears grow larger, sound becoming amplified. Her body reshaped, becoming its natural, more foxlike form. She was still a humanoid, but no longer so human, becoming the halfway between shape shifters were known for. Suddenly she could hear and smell with a degree of precision she couldn’t reach before. Stilling, she listened.

There was no one.

In this halfway form she shifted further, this time no longer using her natural abilities and instead using her imbued magic, her hands shifting from hands to hooves, her body becoming tall and broad and strong. Now in her horse form, she could move a bit faster.

She trotted off the road to the edge of the cliff, pausing to smell the freshness of the lake, the lake that was the source of fresh drinking water to most living beings in Eastern Khorvaire from its many tributary rivers. She hit the soft grass on the stretch of land that lay between the decomposing road and the edge of the cliff. She trotted along the shore for a time, to get used to the form, but she could feel herself twitching anxiously. She wanted to run. And so she ran.

In this form, there was no greater joy than running. She felt her body stretch thin along the path, hooves pounding into the ground, the wind streaming along her, speeding up into a gallop to feel the rush of the lake breeze and the sun shining, the plains along the shore in their rolling green hills green gems of beauty. In the very far distance, if she strained her eyes, she could still see the edge of the towering forest.

She slowed to a canter, not quite as satisfying but like a good jog, she could keep it up for as long as she could hold the form. It made travelling quite a bit easier. The sun moved from overhead to stretch towards the woods by the time she could no longer focus on her form, and she felt herself shift back into her most human form, a sheen of sweat along her skin. Ahead of her she could see a path taper away from the road and the lake, towards the north. A small sign showed that if she continued up this way, she would eventually reach a small village known as Havenglen. Perhaps not all the way up, but if she continued perhaps she could find an old barn to curl up in and sleep for the night.

Trees dotted the road, but it was still wide and open as the shadows grew longer and the temperature cooled. She could hear the chorus of cicadas hidden in the trees call to each other, the buzz of sound creating a certain kind of harmony. The pulse of the noise grew, faded, and grew again as they sung to each other. Smiling, she headed north along the path. Among a small grove of trees she could see a small structure, perhaps a gazebo of some kind? She stepped forward to investigate.

It was a well. In a little disrepair, but the brickwork was artful and a small statue stood inside of a young woman with a pair of angelic wings, her arms open as if to embrace a traveller. Blair smiled. Raei, the everlight. They were still far enough West that faith sculptures weren’t a thousand versions of the Silver Flame. Even though she preferred the gentle touch of the Wildmother, it was nice to see someone else’s source of faith in such a beautiful place. She stepped closer to the well, and saw a bucket hanging on the winch. She lowered the bucket into the well, drawing up the water below. It was clear, and cool, and as she put the bucket to her lips the water streamed down her throat and suddenly she felt alive again, the cold liquid causing her senses to sharpen. She could feel every cell beneath her skin pumping energy through her body. What a feeling!

“I see you too have found Bernard’s Well,” a voice said from the stairs below. Blair set the bucket down on the edge and turned to face another traveller. He pulled his hood back to reveal shaggy blonde hair pulled back with a black ribbon, and serious grey eyes.

“Are you from around Havenglen?” she asked. “Or travelling?”

“Travelling,” he said, and gestured to the well. “Do you mind?”

Blair moved out of the way to allow him closer to the well. He too admired the carving of Raei. “Do you think I could...?” he trailed off, gesturing to the bucket. Blair nodded. He drank long and hard, slaking what must have been a long day of travelling as well. He set the bucket down.

“You know this place?” Blair asked.

“Only by name,” he said with a smile, leaning against the side of the well. Now that his cloak was drawn back, she could see his worn travelling clothes and old boots, as well as a belt of quills and pouches strapped around his waist. A wand hung from a sheath along his leg as well. He looked to be a mage of sorts. “I like reading about strange places, especially ones that I’m not sure are still around, not after...” he trailed off, but they both knew he referred to the war.

“What is this place?” Blair asked.

“Bernard’s well,” he said, unshouldering his pack for a moment’s respite. “Bernard himself is nobody special, but they say this well has healing powers. It’s why he carved Raei above it, that the water would heal weary travellers. I think though--” and he leaned forward conspiratorially--”The reason people think it’s special, that it tastes so clear, is it’s an artisanal well, and he hit an especially pure vein of water in building it, one thick in rock.” He leaned back. “That’s just my guess.”

The two travellers stood in silence for a beat, glancing at each other.

“What’s your name?” he asked after a moment.

“Blair Foxtail,” she said. “And you?”

“Ilohen,” he reached out a hand, and Blair shook it gingerly. “I’m travelling this way from Arcanix, up in Askelios? I’m not sure if you know--”

“You’re a student?” Blair said abruptly, her eyebrows rising to her hairline.

He reeled slightly, taken aback. “Yes, yes, you know the academy?”

“You’re the only other people who seem to take the Draconic Prophecy seriously!” Blair said.

Ilohen’s lips sealed shut. For a moment Blair thought she might have made a mistake. But Ilohen rolled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his upper arm, just above his elbow. No, not a tattoo--

“A dragon mark,” Blair said, reaching out, but not touching. Ilohen nodded. “The mark of detection.”

“It’s not only my study, it’s my life mission,” Ilohen said, allowing his sleeve to drop again. “I had no choice but to go to Arcanix, as soon as my tattoo manifested. My whole family expected it to.”

"So what do you know?" Blair asked.

Ilohen sighed. “There’s a group of scholars who study the Draconic Prophecy, oh yes. Spent their whole lives trying to analyze the patterns that keep changing. Spend their whole lives arguing what it means. But I want to take a different way from the scholarly debate the old wizards seem to think is the best way of figuring.” He paused, but Blair didn’t respond. He thought for a moment before continuing. “I want to see the Archdruid. I want to see Oalian.”

Blair paused before answering, the conversation between them like a coin balanced exactly on its side; or maybe it was still spinning in the air and had yet to land. The space of a breath. “I am from the Towering Wood,” she said, her amber eyes glinting even in the daylight. Ilohen looked up at her, his grey eyes meeting hers. “I am a druid of Greenheart.”

It was not a secret, but it felt like one here. Still in Eldeen, she could disclose that fact without worry, but further on in Aundair it might get her in trouble with the wrong people. The relationship between Aundair and Eldeen was still extraordinarily tender.

Ilohen smiled, his fingers steepling together beneath his nose. “What do you know, Blair?”

Blair paused. Before this mission began, she would not have disclosed these facts to anyone until she had reached Sharn. Up in the north it was still too tense to discuss, but down by Sharn people were willing to listen to wild flights of fancy. This was no wild flight, she knew it was fact, but she also knew how humans in their houses looked at her amber eyes and bushy hair and her foxtail and her claws, and knew it might as well be. But Ilohen seemed excited, she could see his body tense with anticipation, and guessed in his pack would be notes and notes of what he suspected.

“The dragonmarks, you know,” she said. He nodded. “Twelve of them, forever neutral among changing alliances. Well, it seems that they’ve manifested a physical form. As dragonmarked shards.”

“Dragonshards bearing the mark?” Ilohen’s eyes widened. “Is that even possible?”

“It was because of the Mourning,” Blair said, and Ilohen’s hand slapped down to the edge of the well in triumph.

“I suspected,” he said, his face alight with curiosity and excitement. “Does it have anything to do with--”

“Khyber,” he and Blair said at the same time. They stared at each other.

“She’s trying to break free,” Blair said quietly.

“If dragonshards are manifesting bearing marks...” Ilohen stared at the ground. “Are these the last marks? Is Siberys gone?”

Blair shrugged, her hands spreading wide. “Unknown. But I do know the location of the Shard of Handling. It’s in Eldeen. All these, we’ve gleaned from the Prophecy, Oalian’s been studying it for weeks now, the druids have been focusing on nothing else. We know there are shards bearing the marks, and we know they’re across Khorvaire, but we don’t know where they are.”

Ilohen leaned against the side of the well, pulling out his notebook from his pack. Notes on the shards lay scrawled across it. “It’s been long suspected Khyber was the source of the Mourning,” he said. “There was a contingent of wizards who believed the Glowing Chasm was a gash through Eberron herself, revealing Khyber wrapped in her below. The shards have also come in and out of the story, depending on who you talk to. I suspected the shards, the balance of it makes sense...the last of Siberys in response to the weakening of Eberron...but what do these shards do?”

Blair’s arms fell. “That’s the greater unknown. They have something to do with the Mourning, but their ultimate purpose has not been proven yet. But Oalian suspects they must be collected, gathered...”

She fell silent, staring at Ilohen as he figured. “You want to put together a group, a, a force...to collect them, is that why you left? If it was your mission you certainly wouldn’t be travelling alone, then...”

“Yes,” she said. “I cannot do it alone. I’m headed to Sharn. It’s my best hope to find people who are willing to undertake this task.”

Ilohen nodded, and shouldered his pack. “I’m coming with you.”

Blair balked.

“Trust me,” he said. “Travelling alone you would be suspect, a shifter druid dressed in Eldeen clothing? You would be suspected in an instant. Travelling with an Aundain wizard from Arcanix on the other hand, seems reasonable.” Ilohen held out his hand. Blair hesitated.

“Oh, come on now,” Ilohen said with a grin. “Are you really going to refuse the aid of a dragonmarked wizard?”

Blair smiled. “When you say it that way,” she said, grasping his hand. Ilohen met her smile.

“To Sharn,” he said. Blair continued forward. Ilohen turned back the way he came to join her.