Aurician’s challenge was not rhetorical.
After initiating combat with Aurician, Krynn’s Vanguard quickly realized they were probably in over their heads. Aurician was more powerful than they realized—not in the way of a stronger opponent, but in the way a storm is stronger than the shore it breaks against.
Their blows landed—steel bit, magic flared, divine power answered—but Aurician scarcely reacted. Each strike seemed to register only in passing, like the dull acknowledgment of a hand brushing against stone. There was no stagger, no hesitation—only the faintest shift of attention, as though noting the effort rather than feeling its impact.
In return, Aurician’s movements were… decisive.
There was no wasted motion. No flourish. Each action carried overwhelming weight, as if reality itself bent slightly to accommodate it. Where the Vanguard fought with urgency and coordination, Aurician acted with inevitability. A single gesture forced defenses to their limits. A single strike threatened to end the fight outright.
It became immediately clear: this was not a battle to overpower Aurician. It was a trial to survive him.
And survive they did.
Krynn’s Vanguard was left bruised and battered, pushed to the edge of their limits. What began as a coordinated assault became a desperate effort to endure—each moment less about victory, and more about holding on just a little longer. What carried them through was not strength alone, but coordination—trust, timing, and an unspoken refusal to break.
For a time, the outcome felt inevitable.
Not victory.
Not even defeat.
But annihilation.
And yet, they held.
At the brink, Aurician ended the fight.
The pressure vanished as quickly as it had come. The overwhelming weight lifted, leaving only the echo of it behind. Aurician’s form shifted, the vast and terrible presence receding as he returned to his manakete form—Auri.
Only now did the truth settle fully—Auri and Aurician were one and the same.
With a quiet, effortless gesture, he restored the party to full health. There was no visible strain, no incantation—only intent, made real.
Auri regarded them for a moment before speaking.
They would stand a real chance against the Dragon Queen.
But he would not fight her.
Though Aurician’s power surpassed Takhisis in raw force, it was not a power he could sustain. His true form demanded more than even he could maintain for long. The Dragon Queen would endure where he could not. Given time, she would outlast him—and Aurician would fall.
It was not a matter of strength.
It was a matter of time.
And that was a risk he would not take.
At the rear of the chamber, an altar rose slowly from the floor, stone shifting with a low, deliberate rumble.
Suspended above it, weightless and radiant, was the final piece of the Crest of the Daughters of Paladine.