Home to the Grave

AT 1084 (AZ 1456) - Late Winter
The Dragon's Maw, The Darklands

The blue waters turning red brought little comfort. Indeed, Ophis Python had been reddening the waters for thousands of leagues. The Zephyrian darts left him in constant torment and his blood streaming into the waters drew every manner of hungry fish in the sea. Few could pierce his scales, but that did not stop them from trying.
Days, months passed. How many were left of his tribe? He did not even know.
If only he could return to the Monarch Lich, he could be healed of his grievous wounds. His task was to deliver the shadow child. That is what he did. He could not be blamed for the shadow child getting herself killed so easily. He upheld his end of the bargain. If the Lich had any honor, he would keep his word and restore Python and his bloodline.
This thought alone had driven him this far. He was so close now. Just a little farther. Just a mere matter of days.
He could feel his heart slowing. He had been growing steadily weaker ever since he fled the land of Zephyr. He could not give up, though. He was too close. He had come too far. He had sacrificed too much.
His body obeyed him less and less. It was like slipping into hibernation. Yes, that was what he needed. A little rest. The tides would carry him to shore. Until then, he could rest and conserve his strength. He would need it for the final push.
A little rest. A little closing of the eyes. Not that snakes could close their eyes. Even so, his vision dimmed. A little rest and when he woke again, he would claim all that was his.