Half an hour later Rudra has found himself tied down on Saroth's work table. Saroth walked around him babbling more to himself than to him, clearly ignoring the child's visible distress.
"Your first transformation requires ambient cellular energy but your body is priotizing all its energy for mundane things like bone growth, brain development.....speaking of development," his talking was awfully controlled but his hands were shaking visibly, but it was with neither fear nor rage, it was entirely something else, something far more terrifying, "Maybe your draconic core or draconic nerves haven't fully developed and that's why you cannot transform! It's like telling a baby to walk when it is yet to develop feet HAHH!" He laughed sharply as if he had said something funny, "Your father and ancestors probably used extreme emotions like rage or grief which helped the body to release a bunch of necessary hormones that could force grow the Draconic Nerves which ultimately helped them with their first transformation," he said that all in one breath, his talking becoming too fast, pupils dilated, "But you are not able to do it. Your body needs outside help. I am the help."
He slammed his hands on both sides of Rudra's head making him flinch, "I cannot make you angry or sad but I can help your body experience extreme distress," Saroth's breathing became short and shallow, "By giving your body no choice but to focus on its draconic part instead of the human part."
He produced a spoon and pushed between Rudra's teeth forcefully making him open his mouth, "You need an wound," his voice becomes sincere, "Something not so light that your body can heal it without transforming but not something so out of hand that it kills you. It needs to be controlled."
Once Rudra gave in, He pushed in his thumb, opening his mouth wider, "There. The soft palette," he murmured, "It's close to the airway, digestive tract and the central nervous system- a damage here means your body won't be able to decide which emergency to respond to first. It's close enough to the brain to create maximum terror signal without killing you first."
Rudra tried to close his mouth back, but Saroth's thumb was on the way. "Uh uh," he chided, "Open your mouth Rudra," he tapped his chin with the spoon, "Do you want to stay useless?"
And Rudra just squeezed his eyes shut.
_____________________________________
(Present Day)
"The Healer? He's here?"
Tish looked up from the scroll infront of her and spotted Percival near the door talking with a guard. It had been days they had locked themselves in the inner sanctum of the temple of Rāva reading and translating the scrolls. Well, mostly it was Tish translating the scrolls while Percival watched the door. Aside from eating , maintaining basic hygiene- both of them had remained cooped up into the sanctum.
"Tish, do you want to go?" Percival asked, "You need fresh air anyways."
Tish looked down at the scratchy map she had drawn on a paper. It was a philosophical route from Benevia to the supposed city of Alaka- where the Sword of Mamon apparently was. She was stuck at a point near the 'Tideless Sea'. She knew the route needs to go around the sea but wasn't yet sure exactly at which. direction.
She placed the heels of her palms against her eye sockets, "We can't trust the Dragon and his healer. Who knows what they are planning," she muttered dryly and then pulled back her hands, "Let's go."
They had to take a horse to their destination which was several hundred yards away from the High Bank of Rā. Tish started feeling nervous when they entirely left the city and kept running towards the dense forest near Benevia.
"Percy!" She called, "Are we going to the right place?" Percy looked back from his horse, but never slowed down, "It's okay," he mouthed and fixed his eyes on the back of the guard who had delivered them the news.
As they left the periphery of the city, the crisp sharp air of winter made Tish bury her nose into the scarf, her head and ears throbbed painfully. It was almost impossible to look forward but she didn't dare to slow down. Stubbornly she kept her eyes fixed upon the dark road before them which wounded around the trees like a snake who hadn't decided which direction it should take.
It was then she noticed several other Benevian guards carrying massive containers. Before Tish could call them, Percival pulled the reign of his horse coming to a clumsy stop, "Hey!" He barked, his voice full of authority.
The soldiers looked at him and immediately recognised it was the man who mortally wounded the Parthan Dragon.
"What are those?" He asked. Tish was faster. She slid off her horse and approached the nearest group. She pushed open the lid of one of the boxes. Nobody stopped her. They just watched her wearily.
The box was fool of spikes, atleast 7 to 8 feet long, "What's this?" She asked. "The Parthan Healer requested these from Rān," informed the guard.
"There are chains in this one!" Percival said loudly, checking another box.
But Tish couldn't look at him. She stared at the man infront of her, baffled, "Why are we handing out weapons to someone coming from an enemy nation?"
"He said he needed those," The Guard smiled politely, "For treatment."
Treatment? Of who? Rudra?
"Let's just go inside," Percival said. He placed a hand on Tish's shoulder. "Inside?" She asked, more confused.
"Inside the cave," Percival answered, "Come on, Tish. We will get no answer here, only more questions and confusion."
They left the horses under the care of the guard they had come with and walked through heavy snow-laden dark trees, the branches drooped almost to the ground with the white weight.
The ground became somewhat uneven with sudden dips, ridges and rocks which broke through the thick carpet of snow.
And suddenly the ground gave away to a drop of 15 or 20 feet. There were steps made along the sides to go down. It was a familiar place. A place where she used to come with Percival to play back in her early teen years. Something which felt like it happened in another lifetime.
The path to the inside was lined with torch lights. Tish spotted the Parthan General pretty soon, her massive height noticeable over the heads of the guards. She also spotted a couple of Veradis from Rān's court - probably people the Rān sent himself to keep an eye on the whole matter.
Amidst them stood a foreign man with skin tone like copper and hair -gray and glossy. His attire was odd to say the least - made of materials Tish had never seen anywhere.
As Tish and Percival made their arrival, the murmurs stopped. General Nayan looked at Tish with bored eyes, "Saintess," she gestured at the man, "This is Soreth. Our Royale Healer," her tone was polite but not really respectful, "Soreth....this is the Saintess."
Soreth, the healer's face broke into a warm smile, "From one Healer to another Healer," he extended his hand, "My warm greetings to you, Saintess of Benevia. Our methods maybe different - yours holy magic and mine? Mortal tools. But our goals are the same."
Tish couldn't speak. Something about this man struck her as off. But he wasn't a hostile presence. He wasn't even rude. So Tish had to be police atleast.
She took his hand and gave it a shake, "I am pleased to meet you as well."
His hands were shaking slightly. Nervous? Scared?
Tish didn't understand. "So," she cleared her throat, "What do you need those... Harpoons for?" She couldn't help but ask.
"For treatment," Soreth said. His lips were trembling now, like he was terrified or he couldn't suppress a smile,
"To treat the Dragon Prince ofcourse."