Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

the vampire would long
     ago have escaped to wreak his unimaginable evil on the world.
    Unfortunately, over the last few decades, the power woven by Arabejila’s descendents
     had been growing weaker. Their renewal rites no longer imparted the same adamantine
     strength to the bonds as before. And with the weakening bonds, Mitro’s attempts to
     escape had come increasingly closer to succeeding. The last three times, Arabejila’s
     descendent had arrived just in the nick of time, renewing the bonds only scant days—even
     hours—before Mitro broke through.
    Worry crept down Dax’s spine. Judging by the volcano’s increasing turbulence, Mitro
     had already found enough of a chink in his prison walls to work his influence on the
     outer world. It did not bode well. Mitro must have woken much earlier than Dax this
     time. He’d grown stronger—too strong.
    Concerned, Dax sent his senses out, searching for that frisson of awareness that alerted
     him to the presence of another Carpathian. He’d been able to use that awareness over
     the years to track the progress of Arabejila and her descendents when they came to
     the mountain. His senses soared out, passing through rock, soil, into the sky above
     the volcano, then across the dense, tropical jungle.
    After several long minutes of searching, he found her. Arabejila’s descendent. She
     was approaching the mountain as she had once every five years for the last who-only-knew
     how many centuries, but she was still hours away. She was not going to get here in
     time. The woman was too far out and Mitro had grown too strong.
    Dax had been considered the greatest hunter of the entire Carpathian race, yet still,
     fight after fight, Mitro had eluded him. Being locked in the earth for so long without
     blood to sustain them should have weakened them both, possibly even killed them. But
     just like Dax, Mitro had found a way to survive and grow stronger. The intense pressure,
     heat and harsh environment of the volcano had changed them both. If Mitro escaped
     now, there would be nothing, no one strong enough to stop him.
    Dax couldn’t let him escape.
    The whispers grew stronger, demanding, incessant. For months now, even as he slept,
     the voices had whispered in his ears, a never-ending chorus. Urging him to visit the
     cavern near the heart of the volcano. The heat and pressure there was intense, so
     close to the volcano’s main magma chamber that Dax had never been able to stay more
     than a few seconds at a time. But something was there. Something powerful and fierce. Something that normally did not like to
     be disturbed.
    Something the earth believed Dax needed, because it had been driving him back to that
     chamber again and again and again over the centuries.
    The push was stronger now than it had ever been. Every part of him felt both driven
     and pulled toward that chamber deep in the heart of the volcano. What lay there was
     waiting for him, and he could delay no longer. The strength he needed was there, offered
     up to him if only he had the will to claim it.
    He dispatched the wards surrounding his resting place and shifted into a clear mist,
     traveling swiftly through the lava tubes and fissures in the rock, descending deep
     into the earth until he reached the superheated chamber. A small section of the floor
     on the far side of the chamber had cracked, and molten rock from the adjacent magma
     chamber was spilling into the room, thick and glowing orange. The pool was rising
     rapidly. It wouldn’t be long before the entire chamber was completely filled.
    In the center of the room, its hindquarters half submerged in the deepening magma,
     lay the petrified remains of a dragon. Immense and breathtaking, the creature lay
     curled tightly, wings tucked against his back, tail curled around his body, head resting
     on diamond-clawed forepaws. The entire dragon had crystallized, its body turning to
     ruby and diamond in the intense heat and pressure of the volcano. The dragon’s chest
     was destroyed, crushed. Huge chunks of faceted crystal spilled around the petrified
     carcass.
    The heat rising from the magma made the air around the dragon ripple, distorting Dax’s
     vision until the entire crystallized carcass seemed to tremble and move.
    Take it. Take what remains. Take what is offered.
    The whispers filled Dax’s head, making him dizzy. Before him, the heat waves rising
     from the magma pool seemed to shimmer and take on a translucent