Draak Draken's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

Draak watched the waterfall slow to a trickle, then stop completely. The stream had shifted course overnight, redirected by a rockslide higher up the mountain. His claws scraped against dry stone where clean water had poured just yesterday. The three newest arrivals stood behind him, silent. Without the waterfall, the stronghold lost its surface water source. The underground streams still flowed, but this visible proof of abundance was gone. Worse, he'd told two more groups of scattered Draken to look for the falls as their landmark. They would arrive at bare rock and wonder if they'd found the wrong place. Draak stared at the empty cliff face. His first real failure since the clan started gathering. The stronghold suddenly felt fragile instead of strong. He climbed to the rockslide and tried to clear the path. His claws moved stone after stone, but more rubble slid down to replace what he moved. After three hours, his muscles burned and nothing had changed. He stopped and looked at the pile blocking the stream. The task was too big for one dragon, and he couldn't ask the newcomers to spend their first days fixing his mistake. He should have checked the stability of the slopes above. Should have chosen a water source that couldn't fail. On his way back down, he passed the pool where the waterfall had landed. A stone sat at the edge—smooth and dark, with strange patterns carved across its surface. He didn't remember seeing it before. The markings looked deliberate, like someone had placed it there as a reminder. Draak picked up the stone and turned it over in his claws. The patterns seemed to shift and flow, catching the light. He carried it back to the mine entrance and set it near the herd's cavern where everyone would see it. The stone would remind him that confidence without care led to failure. Two groups of Draken were traveling toward a landmark that no longer existed, and he had no way to warn them. The clan needed routines that worked even when he failed. Draak found swamp roots near the outer marsh—thick and twisted, weathered by time. He dragged them back and shaped them into a bench. The gnarled wood curved naturally into a seat. He placed it where clan members could rest while watching the herd. The cattle-lizards moved slowly across the cavern floor, steady and dependable. At least the animals thrived. The bench felt solid under his weight as he sat. He looked at the stone he'd placed nearby, then at the herd, then at the tunnels beyond. The stronghold still stood. The water still flowed underground. His mistake had cost them a landmark, but it hadn't destroyed what he'd built. The two traveling groups would find their way or they wouldn't. He couldn't control everything. Draak stood and walked back into the tunnels. Tomorrow he would mark a new path for those still searching. The next morning, a sound like breaking stone pulled him from sleep. Draak rushed through the tunnels toward the noise. The main archway—dark stone carved with draken patterns that held up the deepest chambers—showed long cracks running through its surface. The weight above had shifted, pressing down harder than the arch could hold. He pressed his shoulder against the stone, trying to support it. The cracks spread wider. If the arch collapsed, it would bring down half the stronghold. The three newcomers appeared behind him, their eyes wide. Draak lowered his shoulder and stepped back. He couldn't fix this alone either. The stronghold needed more than one dragon's strength. It needed his clan working together, or everything he'd built would fall. He looked at the three Draken and saw his own fear reflected back. But he also saw them waiting for direction. Draak turned back to the cracking arch and started giving orders. The stronghold would survive this, but only if he stopped trying to carry every burden himself.