Iskrin consults the dragon

Iskrin stands before the dragon and bows. "I seek the wisdom of the dragon," he says, looking up at the creature.

"Oh ho," the dragon chuckles, its deep voice resonating within the chamber. "Do you now, First Estril. And what do you bring to deserve such a boon?" The creature circles in the air, puffing out little wisps of smoke as it speaks.

Iskrin lays onto the ground before him a small leather wrap. He slowly unbinds it and opens up the square of leather to reveal what is nestled within.

The dragon's eyes widen. "Is that…?"

"Yes."

"You are desperate indeed, Iskrin Orin'Darr," the dragon says, swooping down to scoop up the package and retreating from view for a moment. When it returns, there is a glint in its eye. "So, First Estril. You bring me that which you promised you would never bring. What wisdom do you seek that makes you break your vow?"

Iskrin sighs heavily. "Do not chide me, dragon," he says wearily. "I have had a bellyful of feeling useless these past days. I need to know how we can protect the nymphs of Moonflower Hollow from a threat that Queen Etain has seen in a vision and that I have heard whispers of from my own networks."

The dragon grins, bright white, razor sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight. "You cannot," it says simply, a hint of amusement in its voice. "I have seen the coming of Sol'varin myself. There is no protection from his light for the nymphs of the Hollow."

"No," Iskrin says angrily. "You owe me a boon, dragon."

The creature spirals away for a moment, growling. "Were you any other man," it whispers from the darkness, menace in its voice.

"I am not any other man, dragon," Iskrin answers evenly. "My boon."

The dragon snarls, but returns to the torchlight and hovers in front of him. "There is a way," it says eventually, almost sulkily. "But you will not like it."

Iskrin laughs. "I wouldn't have come to you if I had found any solutions I liked," he says bitterly. "What must be done?"

"Sol'varin's gaze with burn the nymphs to cinders. The Moonflowers will die and Etain with them." The dragon puts a strange inflection on the queen's name, though it is hard to discern what it means. "That cannot be prevented."

"My boon!" Iskrin shouts, a fury in his voice that is not common to hear. "Stop telling me what cannot be done. Tell me what can be done."

"There is a property of wild magic, such as the nymph's wield, that can save them," the dragon says. "Death cannot be stopped, but it can be diverted by the magic of the elements. If their deaths are bestowed upon others, they themselves will not die."

Iskrin frowns. "You know she would never agree to that," he says, his voice dark and accusatory.

"No," the dragon says, and lets out a laugh that rings around the chamber. "Not the beautiful Etain. She would never let another die in her stead."

Iskrin sighs, the anger leaching out of him, replaced by despair.

"Oh come now, First Estril," the dragon says. "You're almost making me feel bad." It circles in the air, swishing its tail and growling to itself. "OK," it says after a while, circling back to the forlorn elf. "There is another way."

Iskrin looks up, narrowing his eyes.

"There is one in the city who is powerful enough to protect the Hollow. But they are as likely to help you as I am."

"Who is it?" the elf asks urgently.

"I don't know," the dragons answers. "But I feel them, even now. Such power as might make even a dragon think twice."