It was late afternoon by the time I awoke from some fifteen hours of deep, restful slumber. Sure, some of my biological processes were demanding attention, and I had to make haste to attend them, or things would have gotten messy, but after that, and a long, drawn-out and freezing cold shower, I was feeling like an entirely new elf. Or dragon, deity or something in between.

By now, I had stopped to question just what I was biologically, beyond the fact that I was Morgana, beloved of Sigmir and mother of Carnelia and Luna. The connections to my family were more important than whatever label the system, or society, might brand me with,

Walking through my underground lair, I made myself comfortable once again, eating breakfast or an early dinner, depending on your definitions, while thinking about my next step. Should I try to return to the village, chancing that the mere presence of Angelina would bring back that horrifying pain I had endured the day before? Or should I simply call on the others and have them meet me somewhere else, from where we could continue our journey, letting the local villagers be, now that it looked like the Burned Land had been quieted down.

Thinking of the Burned Land made me frown for a moment. Sure, I hadn’t seen any Bitumen or any of its other creatures since fleeing the central area, but I couldn’t be certain that it was dealt with.

Maybe that should be my next step, to investigate whether the Burned Land had been handled or if we needed to come up with another way, something beyond the attack on that dungeon. Assuming, of course, that the wingless worm the group had dealt with had actually been the final boss of that dungeon and not just another obstacle on the way.

Delving into the Astral River, I channelled some power to the slope of my mountain, letting it coalesce into the form of a scrying construct. Then, after linking it to the bound spirit wrapped around my arm, I had it take flight, soaring towards the Burned Land.

Immediately, I could see a stark difference. On earlier flights, there had always been a layer of ash, smoke and cinder in the air over the Burned Land, greatly limiting visibility and making the climate seriously unpleasant for anything but the Burned Land’s creatures. Now, said layer was gone, allowing me to see a huge stretch of the Burned Land, which, in turn, drove home just how horrific the thing actually was. There was a seemingly endless expanse of charred soil, stretching far into the distance, without any life visible whatsoever. It was a scene of pure desolation, a desert in every sense of the word, a space deserted by life. Or rather, an area where life had been burned away by the relentless expansion of the Burned Land, though fortunately, it seemed that this expansion had been halted.

Even with my elevated point of view, I couldn’t see any of the Burned Land’s creatures, no Bitumen spreading its taint, nothing but the desolate landscape. Hopefully, that meant the Burned Land was contained, or maybe even defeated, and we wouldn’t have to worry about Bitumen setting the rest of the continent ablaze.

For a good thirty minutes, I let my scrying construct soar across the remains of the Burned Land, taking in the differences a day had made, while also noting just how devastated the land remained, and would remain for a long time. The fire burning within the land might have been doused, whatever had been within the dungeon extinguished, but the damage was done. And it was serious damage.

Without the Bitumen and the power within the dungeon holding the goop together, it would likely turn into some sort of black dust or ash, possibly choking the life out of anything trying to grow down there, until some wind started to blow away the ash, spreading its taint even further. Mentally, I made a note to check that dust at some point, hopefully, it didn’t retain the fiery and corrosive nature it had while the Bitumen were active and would cool down into something nature could deal with.

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Maybe I should also talk to Luna, she was a practitioner of Life Magic after all, hopefully she would have some ideas we could give the locals so this scar on the land could be healed. There was something about it that just offended my sensibilities; it might be due to its original fiery nature or maybe because it was just so desolate, I wasn’t sure.

Taking a mental step back for a moment, I began to analyse my own thought processes and soon concluded that it wasn’t the desolation that bugged me. After all, the frozen wastes of the north or the chilled and desolate peaks around the valley where I had built my tower on Mundus were just as desolate, maybe even more so. And yet, there, I had enjoyed the landscape, taking in its freezing energy and letting myself be carried by it. I had spread my body out in the snow, letting it rest on the ice and even tried to set up a pool of Liquid Moonlight to bathe in. None of these things would have been healthy for anyone but those highly attuned to Ice and Cold, let alone pleasant. Hel, the bath alone would have killed all but the most resilient beings, and yet, it had been wonderful for me.

Thus, my dislike of the Burned Land and its remains must be due to the burning aspect of the desolation here, not the desolation itself. For a moment, I wondered if I could turn the desolation I saw below my scriyng construct into something more aligned to my sensibilities, but I discarded the idea as quickly as it had sprung from my mind. There was no need to change the land here, not when I had no desire to remain in the area, especially not with the potential agony I might suffer by being close to Angelina.

Which was something I might have to test out sooner than I would have liked.

As my scrying construct was soaring above the Burned Land, movement caught my eye. Given the stillness and desolation of the entire area, it was almost inevitable, and, obviously, I immediately decided to investigate.

From above, I could soon make out details and recognise the group moving swiftly across the burned soil, their formation loose and casual, making it fairly obvious that they hadn’t been challenged for quite some time.

After linking the sensations coming from the scriyng construct to a basin of water, allowing me to see through its eyes without directly linking my mind to it, I directed the bound spirit to start descending, so I could get a closer look and maybe speak to my daughter.

The Raven construct circled to lose altitude, and the people on the ground soon spotted its shadow. They looked up and searched the sky, finding the constructs easily, and one of them immediately took a knee in submission, still fervently gazing at the flying construct.

When she did, I could once again hear something incredibly faint on the edge of my perception, though, just like the day before, I couldn’t make any sense of it, as if some static was breaking down the connection.

Gritting my teeth, I decided to experiment a little further, just to confirm that the connection and correlation were what I thought they were. With a mental nudge, the scrying construct continued to drop, and with each metre it got closer to the group, the static in my head got worse, making it clear that I would soon suffer that piercing agony.

As I was no masochist, I decided to do something simple and pushed my magic through the Astral River and into the construct, allowing me to change it from its current avian nature into something much simpler. Namely, a tablet made of Hard Ice with a brief message engraved into it, addressed to Luna.

The moment the construct was transformed, the message dropped, and the connection between the bound spirit and the construct broke, rendering me blind in that area, but at the same time, ending the painful static I had to endure.

After taking another sip of my tea, I had to grimace at its currently chilled state. Normally, I loved the cold, but this sort of tea just didn’t taste right when cold. Shrugging, I rose and moved back to my throne, idly wondering just what my next step should be. I couldn’t really continue on until my daughters were done in the village, and even contacting them would be difficult while Luna was close to Angelina. But I could send a message to Lia; she should be far from devotees of the Pale Lady, who seemed to be the problem.