“I should be swimming,” the dragon grumbled bitterly, dragging the pair left towards the simmering liquid of the Wyrmwound.

With an exasperated grunt, his partner shifted the dragon back onto the hidden path. “No! It’s bad to spend too much time in the goo.” A large bubble near the edge of the irradiated stew-like lake popped, spraying the surrounding area with its contagious magic as if to punctuate the dragon’s point.

“It’ll make me stronger!” the first dragon snarled, stomping a foot in the fleshy ground of the Rim.

“Strength at a cost! Dragons who go back too soon become part of the Wyrmwound! There are other ways to be strong.”

He looked longingly towards the faintly glowing shore. “But this is faster! Better!”

“But rest makes me stronger, too. Dragons who collapse can’t grow!” He paused, before pointedly reminding the first one, “And dragons must remain hidden. Gilly saw two outsiders earlier. The clan can’t be found!”

With muttered profanity, the dragon had to admit his partner was right. “Why are there so many outsiders around the Rim? I know! I could hunt them and test my strength!”

“At least it isn’t swimming,” the second acquiesced. “Hunting means hiding. And that means covermud.”

“Then let’s go!”




“Hold!”

Toph pushed his goggles up above his four eyes and peered down into the innermost canyon of the Rim. The mirror dragon and his spiral companion had been assigned by Warchief Morix to run an extended patrol around the perimeter of the Wyrmwound proper, looking for further incursions from Nature’s forces. He was sure he’d just seen a heat signature before it vanished. His clanmate settled down next to him, coiling her length beneath her. She stuck her head out past his and squinted. “What is it? I don’t see anything!”

“I could have sworn I saw something moving further down, below that line of—are those veins, or roots?”

The Spiral shot upright and into the air, her eyes wide with shock. “NononononoNO! That horrid nature seed didn’t get this far!” she sputtered. “It couldn’t!”

He shoved his goggles into his pack. Toph couldn’t risk missing a single heat signature now. “We have to check, Cariane. That’s why we’re here. The Warchief needs to know. It could be native to the Rim, but we have to make sure it isn’t from that thing.”

Cariane squawked in disbelief. “Toph, no! It’s too dangerous, let’s just report back to the Warchief!”

Toph shook his head. “And tell him what, exactly? That we might have spotted some unverified plantlife in the Wyrmwound, close to the Cauldron? No, we need to get closer and give a detailed report. We’ll be okay…I think. We’re not going in the Wyrmwound proper. The organisms are along the edge…give or take.” He glared up at his partner. “This is an order from the Warchief himself, Scout Cariane: Patrol the Rim, report back anything suspicious. Make sure Nature hasn’t encroached further into Mother’s realm.” He took to the air, gesturing for the reluctant Spiral to follow. “We’ll go slow. As soon as you can see it with your vision, we’ll find a place to perch and you can start your sketches for the Warchief.”

Cariane dropped down to match his altitude and speed, whispering something under her breath about fools and suicide missions. Toph decided to ignore that.

“Let’s go.”




“Oh that cluster looks deliciously foul!”

“I’m not hungry. And muzzle it! I think the outsiders are nearby,” his partner spat in disgust while the other drooled over congealed growth.

“And it’s got boil bugs! I’m not passing up boil bugs! They’re my favorite!” With a great heave, the dragon launched himself up towards the rapidly multiplying pustule, popping its membrane and gulping down the spilled contents with great relish. Before his protesting partner could open his mouth to berate him for the endless distractions, his gaze fell upon the two forms suddenly exposed from their hiding place behind the mound. One let out a startled cry.

“SHARDS!”




Toph and Cariane sat frozen, wide-eyed, matching the shocked expression worn by the second head of what could only be a Shade-beast. A two-headed aberration, a creature thoroughly befouled with mud, goo, and detritus from deep within the Rim and Wound below, a creature of nightmares incarnate.

The one head finished guzzling the slurry from the pustule that had been hiding them previously, with the final rending of the membrane ripping Toph from his shocked daze. “Cariane. The Warchief. GO!” he hissed, pinching the still stunned Spiral. Cariane shrieked and launched her sketchbook at the head closest to her before using her tail as a spring to send her flying back up to the lip of the Rim.

The two-headed beast flinched, batting the sketchbook away from its glowing eyes. Then its heads growled in unison and took to the air after her. Spitting curses, Toph threw himself into an intercept course and bodied the beast away from Cariane’s desperate flight.

“I’m your opponent, beast!”

The aberration fixed one head on the Mirror hovering mid-air between it and its prey, while the other head and its three eyes looked past at Cariane. Then it threw its head back and howled in frustration. The head glaring at Toph snarled, “WE MUST NOT BE FOUND!” The creature charged at Toph, all claws and two sets of vicious teeth reaching for him at breakneck speed. It slammed into him, knocking the air from his body, as they grappled and tumbled through the fetid air above the Wyrmwound.

Wings fouled and limbs locked, they slammed into the muddy gooey edge of the Wrymwound, mere feet from the boiling liquid of the Plaguebringer’s Cauldron. Toph felt the sharp pain of one wing breaking on impact while the other twisted.

The beast rose up on its hind legs, standing over the rattled Mirror. Its wings flung wide in full, the force casting off the mud and goo that had previously blinded Toph’s heat vision. With the obscuring mud removed, Toph’s jaw dropped as he instinctively reached for the goggles he lost in the aerial battle.

“You’re not Shade…you’re a…”

The newly revealed dragon fixed his five glowing red eyes on the scout. “The Green One laughed, the Ice did too,” the heads chanted in unison. The ancient dragon reached down and grasped Toph’s back legs, lifting him up with claws of steel. Toph tried to free himself but with one wing broken and the other dislocated, he didn’t stand a chance against the ancient. He was at the mercy of the ancient dragon, and all his attempts to break free resulted only in dizzying pain. The blood was rushed to his head as the pair took flight, rapidly gaining height. “The day Mother swept us into the goo!”

“Wait! We’re kin, we’re KIN! WE’RE—”

“MOTHER RAGED, MOTHER CRIED,” the heads intoned as they spun their opponent around in a circle. “She didn’t know WE SURVIVED!” the dragon’s heads roared, as their spin picked up speed.

“SHARDS! WAIT—”

“WE’LL SHOW MOTHER SHE WAS WRONG!” the dragon’s chant intensified. “WE’LL SHOW MOTHER WE—ARE—STRONG!”

And then Toph was released, catapulted up and out of the Rim by a raging ancient dragon working out generations of pent-up resentment and fury on him.

“...shards…”

He tried to flare the dislocated wing in a vain attempt to slow his freefall, but the craggy surface of the Rim was coming up on him fast. Toph closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.

“BRACE YOURSELF, SCOUT!”

And then Warchief Morix was there. He caught Mirror with his body in mid-air. The Warchief spread his wings wide to counteract Toph’s velocity, attempting to guide the two into a controlled landing. They hit the ledge hard. Toph tried to stand but the combined pain in his back and wings and the battle fatigue rushed up over him all at once. He pitched forward, almost over the ledge and into the Wyrmwound. Morix let loose a string of profanity as he caught his soldier. “Stay awake,” he muttered, smacking the Mirror’s face with a measured claw. “SCOUT TOPH, REPORT!”

“...ancient, sir…” Toph whispered.

“ANCIENT WHAT, SOLDIER?”

The aberration burst out of the canyon, screaming in fury. “WE WILL NOT BE FOUND!” Its five eyes locked on the two grounded dragons below before launching into a deadly dive.

“...dragon, sir. Ancient Plague dragon.” Summoning the last of his own strength, Toph picked his head up and shouted at the raging two-headed beast, “YOU ARE VERY STRONG!”

The aberration sharply pulled out of the dive, with all five eyes wide in shock as the ancient hovered in mid-air. Toph breathed a sigh of relief when both heads slowly tilted to the right as they regarded their opponent. “We are…strong?”

A toothy grin crept across Morix’s face as a myriad of new possibilities and opportunities came to mind. “Yes, very strong! A strong, powerful warrior like you could be unstoppable as our ally! You could join us—your kin. We can make you even stronger!”

The ancient dragon’s heads turned to look at each other as they processed the Warchief’s validation. “We ARE strong!” his heads exclaimed in unison, trumpeting a victory cry in reply. The dragon whipped around to face the inner canyon, repeating Morix’s invitation at a volume only a Guardian could match. The dragon’s voice echoed back across the Rotrock Rim.

No, not echoes! Toph realized with a start, shielding his eyes. Throughout the Rim heat signals were popping up and popping up fast. The canyon was now ablaze with Aberrations and deafeningly loud.

“WE’LL SHOW MOTHER WE—ARE—STRONG!”