Chapter 31: The Great Caldera's Influence
Personal System Calendar: Year 0009, Days 1-28 Month XIII: The Imperium
Imperial Calendar: Year 6854, 13th month, 1st to 28th Day
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Seat of Power
The loss of Pico, an Arbiter Guardian Beast, was something that had not occurred in living memory for most creatures of the forests. Such deaths were rare, catastrophic events that reshaped the political landscape of entire regions. But the question naturally arose: how did one become the de facto leader of a forest, the grand protector and judge of not just its boundaries but its inhabitants as well?
The answer lay not with the beasts themselves, nor with any mortal authority, but with the world's system and the divine's direct intervention through one of its most powerful agents residing in the central continent.
The power to decide who managed these forests and arbitrated disputes among their lords and guardian beasts fell directly to the Dragon King who resided in his lair within the Great Caldera, the once volcanic region now surrounded by all the great forests like petals around a flower's center.
Ignis Auralith Aetherion, the Dragon King, bore many titles accumulated across millennia of existence: the Skyforged King, Wielder of the Primordial Fire and Celestial Lightning, He Whose Flames Were Kindled in the Forges of Creation Itself. This ancient being, loyal beyond question to powers even greater than himself, was charged with keeping all mortal souls from entering the Great Caldera and its surrounding sacred domains.
He served as master to the Arbiter Guardian Beasts, appointing them and removing them as circumstances required. Now that the battle between Shadowfen and Lonelywoods had reached its bloody conclusion, he found the results rather disappointing. One of his chosen was dead, another was dying, and part of the forests lay devastated.
The two forests involved in the conflict were left battered with catastrophic losses that would take generations to recover from. It fell to Ignis to decide how this situation would be resolved, what justice or retribution would be enacted, and what the future political structure of the region would become.
After the battle concluded, he made time even during his centuries-long periods of dormancy to contemplate how to handle this unprecedented situation. Dragons thought on different timescales than mortals or even most immortal beasts. What seemed like careful deliberation to Ignis might span weeks or months by lesser creatures' reckoning.
Upon reaching his conclusion, the Dragon King awoke from his contemplative rest. A new month had arrived by the human calendar, the final month they called the 13th. But to Ignis, whose perception of time was fundamentally different, it felt as though merely 10 minutes had passed since the battle ended.
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The Summons
He sent a powerful telepathic message that radiated across the entire central continent, reaching every forest simultaneously. The mental command was directed specifically at all remaining forest overseers, those Arbiter Guardian Beasts who bore responsibility for managing their territories.
Before the war, there had been sixteen such overseers: four ruling the great forests, four governing minor forests, and eight administering sub-minor forests. Now only fourteen could answer the summons. Ozythalos, grievously wounded and barely clinging to life, had retreated deep into his lair beneath the interconnected waterways of Lonelywoods and could not move. Pico was dead, her position vacant.
They had lost one great forest overseer definitively. Whether they would lose Ozythalos, the overseer of what was technically classified as a sub-minor forest despite its importance, remained to be seen. His survival was uncertain.
The Dragon King's summons was not a request. It was a command that carried the weight of absolute authority. He summoned the fourteen surviving overseers to his home within the Great Caldera.
And they arrived without hesitation, dropping all duties and concerns to heed their master's commands immediately. Even creatures as powerful and proud as Arbiter Guardian Beasts understood the hierarchy. Some authorities simply could not be defied.
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In the Dragon's Presence
As the fourteen overseers arrived at the Great Caldera, the hostility that normally existed among them ceased instantly. Territorial disputes, ancient feuds, ongoing conflicts over resources and boundaries—all of it evaporated like morning mist under the sun's heat. They were now in the presence of a being so far beyond them that their conflicts seemed like children's squabbles.
Ignis Auralith Aetherion was not merely powerful. He was power made manifest, a living god in all but the most technical theological definitions. As the favored companion of the divine being he served, he effectively held godlike authority within his domain.
Even in his curled, resting form inside his volcanic lair, Ignis was a mountain unto himself. His scales, each one larger than the largest trees in any forest, reflected the molten light of the caldera's core. If he were to unfurl his wings fully, they would undoubtedly blot out the sun across entire regions. The shadows cast by his wingspan could darken kingdoms.
Beside him lay his queen, only marginally smaller, her own presence radiating power that made the air shimmer with heat. Several of their offspring rested nearby, and even these "young" dragons dwarfed the Arbiter Guardian Beasts who had come to receive judgment.
These supposedly powerful overseers, creatures who ruled vast territories and commanded respect and fear from thousands of lesser beasts, paled in comparison to the Dragon King. They couldn't collectively hold even a single percentage point of his power if they combined all their strength. They trembled in genuine fear before him, their instincts screaming that they stood in the presence of something that could erase them from existence with casual effort.
Imagine: beasts whose very presence elsewhere would cause entire armies to flee in terror, whose roars could shatter stone and whose magic could reshape landscapes, now reduced to trembling insects in the face of true power.
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Decree
When Ignis spoke, his voice resonated not just in their ears but directly in their minds, bypassing normal sensory input to impress his will upon their very consciousness.
"Heed my decree," the Dragon King's telepathic voice thundered through their minds like rolling avalanches of sound. "The great forests shall cease all remaining hostilities with their neighbors immediately and isolate themselves for three hundred years."
Three hundred years. By human reckoning, an impossible span. By beast standards, significant but manageable. By dragon standards, a brief cooling-off period.
"You may sort out internal conflicts as you see fit," Ignis continued, "but I forbid external attacks. The forests are to maintain whatever borders they currently hold from their recent conflicts. The status quo is frozen in place. None shall attack territories beyond their own borders during this isolation period."
His mental voice grew colder, carrying implicit threat. "After three hundred years have passed, you may choose to resume these silly games you play, or you may choose to maintain peaceful coexistence. That decision will be yours to make. But any beast who fails to understand this decree during the isolation period will be handled by you, their overseers. And if you fail to reign in those who would break my command, then your own death is assured. Do you understand?"
The fourteen overseers sent waves of acknowledgment and submission, their mental voices tiny and weak compared to Ignis' overwhelming presence.
"The Western Great Forest has lost its overseer," Ignis stated, referencing Pico's death. "A new chosen overseer will be selected from among its surviving generals." By 'generals,' he meant the behemoth-class Guardian Beasts who had served under Pico's authority.
"Similarly, the Sub-Minor West-Southwest Forest's overseer stands on the brink of death." This referred to Ozythalos and his territory, which was technically designated sub-minor despite its strategic importance. "Because the overseer is incapacitated and can no longer effectively perform his duties, a new chosen is to be elected."
The Dragon King paused, considering the complications. "However, the generals of this territory are also currently incapacitated from their defensive efforts. The selection will therefore be postponed until they have recovered sufficiently to participate in the choosing process."
Another pause, longer this time, as Ignis contemplated something unusual.
"There is another Guardian Beast in that territory," he said slowly. "One who is not technically a forest Guardian Beast but rather a human's bonded companion. I have yet to reach a final conclusion about this matter, as the situation is unprecedented in my administration."
Several of the overseers recognized immediately that he was referring to Aetherwing, who had departed the Great Caldera years ago to return to the forests and had subsequently bonded with a human.
"However, given the emergency circumstances and his proven capability in defending the territory, he will also be included as a candidate for overseer," Ignis declared. "I have known him personally for some time, and I know his character and strength. His bonded status to a human is irregular, but perhaps such irregularity is appropriate for these irregular times."
The overseers absorbed this information with varying degrees of surprise and concern. A bonded Guardian Beast as an overseer? It violated tradition, but Ignis' word was law.
"Now, I believe your quarrels have been thoroughly addressed by this recent war," the Dragon King said, his mental voice carrying notes of disappointment and sardonic amusement. "You have witnessed the outcomes of your territorial ambitions and prideful conflicts. I suggest you think very carefully about such matters for the next three days."
By 'three days' in dragon reckoning, he meant the three hundred years of mandated isolation.
"Consider whether these childish games you play are truly worth the costs you have incurred. Begone now. Return to your territories and begin the long work of healing and recovery."
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Dismissed
The audience has concluded their stay. The decree had been issued. The overseers departed immediately, each returning to their respective territories with the Dragon King's commands branded into their consciousness.
The forests would be forcibly isolated by their master's mandate, forbidden from external conflicts regardless of provocation or opportunity. And remarkably, they agreed that this was necessary. They would need three hundred years minimum to recover their strength, to rebuild populations, to heal the wounds inflicted by the recent catastrophic war.
Three hundred years was, from their perspective, a reasonable timeframe for recovery and regrowth.
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Winter's Grip
Back at Maya Village, winter had settled in with harsh finality, its grip tightening across the devastated forest. The heavy snows halted any significant progress on reconstruction efforts. The village was more preoccupied with managing injuries and maintaining basic survival through the brutal cold.
The collection of valuable materials from the fallen beasts would have to wait until spring when the snow thawed. But they understood that winter's preservation was actually beneficial. The cold would keep the beast corpses from decomposing, maintaining the quality of the raw materials such as scales, bones, hides, and magical organs that could be harvested.
Both the village and the empire were intensely interested in these materials, as had been discussed during planning sessions by the Elder Council and Duke Maximilian as the empire's representative. This would become a collective effort when weather permitted, with carefully negotiated shares of the bounty.
But for now, they needed to focus on immediate survival. Licking their wounds. Resting and recovering for the remainder of the year.
The Beast Dominion War had finally concluded. The time for violence had passed. Now came the time for healing and regrowth.
After death comes life. After destruction comes rebuilding. After war comes peace, however fragile and temporary that peace might prove to be.
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August's Contemplation
August stood in the falling snow, looking out at the forest that had become his home. It was scarred now, damaged in ways that would take decades to fully heal. But it was still standing. The village had survived. His friends had survived.
The cost had been terrible, but they had endured.
He thought about the Dragon King's decree, information that had filtered down through Aetherwing and the other Guardian Beasts. Three hundred years of enforced peace. By human standards, an eternity. By the time the isolation period ended, August himself would likely be long dead unless something extraordinary changed.
But perhaps that was appropriate. Perhaps wars on this scale should require recovery periods measured in centuries rather than years. Perhaps that was the only way to ensure the lessons were truly learned.
He turned and walked back toward the village, toward the warmth of the communal fires and the company of those who had fought beside him. They had survived the winter of war. Now they would survive the actual winter, and in spring, they would begin to truly rebuild.
The Great Caldera's influence had imposed order on chaos, structure on violence. The Dragon King had spoken, and the forests would obey.
For the first time in over a year, there was genuine hope for lasting peace.
It was enough.