Chapter Text
Saturn walks along the faded path that leads from her twisted wooden tower down to the old village that lives at the steps of Gladeveins. Like everything here, the village old, almost impossibly so and built on the remains of towns that lived and died in ages past, always rebuilding and repurposing. Leaves flake from her scales and pollen shakes around her as she strides forwards, slow and steady, bright eyes taking in the scenery around her. She is always watching. Though this isn’t her garden, it might as well be. Her purview is all the wilds in the Labyrinth, just as her dear Mother’s is.
The worn dirt beneath her talons turns to cobblestones as she nears the village proper. Many dragons mill about, laughing loudly to themselves or holding lively conversations with friends and loved ones. It’s a close-knit community here, though this close to the border there are aways a fair number of strangers who come to see what the Labyrinth has to offer.
She walks into the village, never pausing in her stride. Some of the locals offer polite bows as she passes, respect for her station and her authority over this region. As emerald eyes scan the town that has remained very much the same since the day she first arrived here, all seems as it should be.
When a stranger catches her eye.
He is wrapped in a dirty tan cloak that hangs low over his body. Teal and green stone clasps hold the pieces together, dull and unpolished. A hood hangs over his head, shielding his eyes from her sight, though she can feel him watching the people wander just the same as she.
She is not unfamiliar with strangers, but there is something about this one. Something in the way he moves, sliding like water through a maze in between the crowds. Something in the way he stands, head lifted to the air like drinking in a fine wine. Something in the way he looks at her, indiscernible eyes staring through her. It strikes her cold. There is something about this stranger. Something old. Something forgotten.
Saturn is not the bravest of her kin, but this is her domain, and this newcomer strikes her as unwelcome, though she cannot put a finger on why. She puffs out her chest, white flowers falling around her as she does, bark breaking around her skin where it wraps around her arms and chest. She inhales the scent of magnolias that accompanies her wherever she roams. It gives her strength.
She strides towards the stranger. While he slithers in between, the crowds part for her, most not even recognizing that they do so, second nature as it is to them. Yet when she reaches where he stood, the road is empty. Bare cobblestones stare up at her. She reaches down. They’re not even warm, still cold from the exposed air. She wrinkles her delicate nose. She does not like mysteries, not here in her home.
She makes to move away when something catches her eye, a carving in one of the stones, half sunken into mud and dirt. It’s old, the stock looks like it hasn’t been moved since the moment it was placed there. And yet there is a carving there that she knows wasn’t before. A circle with a line through the center.
There is magic in the mark, old magic, she can feel it thrumming through her veins as she reaches out to touch it but pulls back sharply. Something old yet new. She spins on her heel and marches back to her tower. Sun must hear of this.