The heat from the jungle is smothering. Rather than provide a welcome relief, a recent rain seems to have only made things more unbearable. A fog of flying insects provides a constant background buzz, punctuated by the more distant cries of larger animals. But amidst all of that, a subtle cacophony of clicks and hisses forms an audible pattern – the sound taking a form in your minds.
From your brother's vantage point, the sound is the same – but the plants of the jungle part to reveal a large circular clearing, 100 feet across. A massive black dragon paces around the center point of the clearing, a ring of small stones circling it. Having experience with no other black dragons (and since it seems to be about the right size), you can only assume that this is Mosargrax.
Atop each stone stands (or coils) a Yuan-Ti sorcerer, chanting in an arcane language – their narrow forked tongues producing nothing more than a constant hiss to the untrained ear. But this is more. This is not just language – but magic. And the ritual has been going on for a very long time. Mosargrax paces back and forth, shifting direction frequently – but never moving closer to the stone circle.
Ignoring your brother's sight for the moment, you move forward in your reality. Ahead, the jungle parts into the clearing – but at a point nearly opposite that of your brother's. Now, you can see the ritual from two vantage points.
And you spot something previously hidden. Under the dragon, a circle of runes has been drawn in the packed ground. Every time she tries to move, the runes glow and she flinches back.
Then, like the crest of a wave crashing on the beach, the hissing chant rises in intensity and abruptly stops.
Mosargrax roars. (or is that a scream?)
Its wings melt – as if doused in its own acid. The twin, forward-arching horns on the sides of its face recede back into the skin – as the rest of its face shifts into a new shape. Down the length of its body, its black scales begin to fill with color. First, a dark red, then forest green, and finally a deep green with red and yellow streaks. Its roar shifts in tone and becomes more of a hiss as its tongue (now forked) lashes in and out of its mouth.
It seems to lose its balance, clumsily crashing to the ground as its legs melt under it – leaving a massive snake where once Mosargrax herself stood.
Raising its head high, the snake scans the circle of Yuan-Ti and speaks.
“Who wakes Sertrous?!” Its voice resonates with a power beyond your experience.
The Yuan-Ti, in a practiced unison, step (slide) from their stones, pull short curved weapons from their belts and draw the blades across their own necks. Blood from a dozen veins spurts in all directions. Sertrous rises even higher and roars – but was that pain, rage, or triumph?
“Good!” It's voice (deeper now) rumbles the jungle – as if it could shake the world to dust if it so much as spoke the right word.
But then it snaps its head to the side – its eyes focus on a point at the edge of the clearing. Brother!
A muffled scream fills your mind as you hear a wet pop from across the clearing. The scream stops and you reel back, dazed as an emptiness engulfs your subconscious.
A moment later, your senses return – only to see a massive snake head hovering only a few feet from you. Its eyes glow with a red fire.
“Two so alike – yet so different.” Its head twists to the side, then back, as if studying you. Its eyes seem to pierce your mind – exposing you to it body and soul.
“Your brother enjoyed the mercy of a quick death. You will not.”
Its head snaps forward, massive fangs pierce into your shoulder and draw you into its maw. An acrid smell combines with the heat of a fire and the sound of your bones breaking as its jaws crush down, filling your world with blackness, pain, and then silence…