The new Dragon Slayer Selqet is coming through The Summoning Portal for the first time this week, just in time for the Dragon Strike event!

“37th of Solstice: Three subjects expired. No new information.”

Selqet stared at her notebook with furrowed brow after writing the summary of the day. Similar entries sprawled across countless pages. She had to learn something. Not just to prove the value of her program, but to get ahead of this unstoppable invasion force for everyone’s sake!

She stood up forcefully, slamming shut the notebook. She knew they had information… they just were tougher than she’d imagined. Somehow, the fear of Malum must still be greater than their fear of her. She’d have to change that.

She left her office and walked down the hall to the hatch that accessed the cage. The guards stepped aside as she approached. She walked through the door and the pristine aesthetics of her tight and tidy military corridor gave way to an assault on the senses.

This place always smelled of death. She was quite resistant to that now. She casually walked by the bloodstains on the rock floor without a glance. Now that they’d moved all subjects to confinement, such messes weren’t her concern anymore.

The door she approached was a great iron vault marked with the simple label “Subject 17/17.a”. She opened the door to a cold and dark rock cell. A small torch burned at the top of the room, but provided little light. A man was strapped to a table in the center of the room, and a sickly looking wyrm with one wing cut cleanly off was chained by each foot and its remaining wing to the back wall.

“Hello #17. Our work for the day isn’t quite done yet.” She approached the restrained, shirtless man who thrashed wildly and spouted curses as she approached.

“More torture, witch? You’ll get nothing from me.” Selqet leaned over the man, surveying his wounds while jotting notes in her book. He spat in her face. “Why don’t you unstrap me and see how well you can burn me?”

Selqet wiped the spit from her face and quickly reached out her other hand to the man’s chest. It began glowing red as the man screamed. She lifted her hand and his screams gave way to gasps as he looked down at his scorched flesh where her hand was.

“Just tell me what I need to know. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t tolerate that kind of disrespect.”

“DISRESPECT!?” #17’s obvious anger quickly overcame his distress. “You cast us out of our homes, kill our people, torture me… and cut off Azrael’s wing and talk to me of disrespect !?”

“You’re the invaders here. We have to do what must be done to survive.” While she was taken aback by his accusations, she quickly regained her fervor. “My home was burned by Malum’s forces. How many has your wyrm over there killed before we took him off the battlefield?”

“We’re recon troops, he’s never hurt a soul!” The man’s anger faded as his eyes drifted over his head towards his wounded dragon. “I was born here. This was my home. We’re not invading… we just want to come home.” He hesitated for a moment, then saw a hint of compassion in Selqet’s eyes. “Please, just let Azrael go and I’ll tell you what you want. He’s just a kid.” The dragon stirred in pain behind him, as if arguing with this desperate plea.

“That’s not how this works,” Selqet said, shaking any sign of sympathy out of her face, leaving only cold professionalism. “Your dragon is awaiting execution. You, however, could still walk out of here if you give me the information I need.”

#17 tightened his lips, letting his eyes break contact with Selqet’s and drift to some faraway place beyond the top of the ceiling. “So be it.” Selqet put her hand on the man’s lower abdomen and began to burn. He held back his screams bravely. Interesting, this one was tougher than most of the others. Perhaps she should note that along with his interesting claims of origin. Better to do it now than forget–

As Selqet reached for her notebook to record her thoughts, she momentarily lost concentration enough to miss a sudden quiet from the dragon’s continual bleating and crying.

#17a was on her in a moment, not-so-gently removing the arm burning his master with the assistance of his great teeth. As the wyrm continued to devour her, she thought coldly to herself “most interesting. The beast does seem to display extreme loyalty to its master, even at its own expense.”

When she opened her eyes on the other side of The Summoning Portal, she was rather annoyed that her notebook had not traveled with her for her to record her observation.