《The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon》


 Chapter 1: The Dragon Awakens

    Chapter 1: The Dragon Awakens


    For the first time in decades, something stirred within the lake of lava. Slowly, but with ever growing speed, waves rippled across its surface. The low hum of magic in the air rose to a fever pitch, and the currents of power that ran through the land twisted and coiled. Something huge emerged from the lava. Molten rock sluiced off a titanic form covered in a kaleidoscopic pattern of red and blue scales. Wings that could cast an entire city into shadow spread wide, and golden eyes gazed at the treasure-strewn shores of the lake.


    Great piles of silver, platinum, and gold dotted the shores, protected from the searing heat by ancient magic. Chest after chest after chest of jewels, rare potions, and mystical fabrics were scattered haphazardly amongst the fumaroles. Arcane devices of great and terrible power littered the area, drawing off the volcano''s potent magic to remain functional.


    Doomwing, Scourge of the Fifth Age and Premier Terror of the West, swam to the shore and heaved his mile-long body out of the lake. For a moment, he was sorely tempted to roll around in his hoard, but he was no longer a young dragon. He was ancient beyond mortal reckoning and far too large to indulge himself in the antics of a hatchling. It would be utterly embarrassing if he crushed one of his prized possessions under his bulk. Instead, he contented himself by lowering his head and burying it in a mountain of precious metals.


    Ah. There was nothing quite like the smell and feel of treasure. He could still remember his youth. As a hatchling, he''d been happy to add even a single coin to his hoard. Now, it would take a king''s ransom to pique his attention. Pulling his head out from under the pile of treasure, he reached out with his senses. He had woven his magic into every single piece of his hoard. If so much as a single coin was missing, he would know. And he would not be pleased. But nothing was missing. Everything was where it should be.


    But why had he woken up? Like any self-respecting dragon of his age, he spent most of his time sleeping, either with his hoard or within the lake of lava. He only woke once a century to collect tribute from those who lived in his territory. Yet his instincts told him that a century had not passed. He had woken up early. Was another apocalypse on the way? He doubted it. His senses would already have noticed if another Catastrophe had arisen. Perhaps it was indigestion. He had eaten a polar kraken before going to sleep, and they never had gone down quite as well as the tropical variety.


    Never mind. All that mattered was that he was awake. Now, he could either go back to sleep, or he could take a quick flight to stretch his wings. They were feeling a little stiff. But first he''d check to see just how long he''d been asleep. For all he knew, he might only have awakened a few days early.


    He reached out with his magic again and called one of his favourite artefacts to him. It was the Clock of Ages. He had taken it from the Catastrophe of the Fourth Age. At the time, he''d only taken it because the Catastrophe had been a troublesome asshole, so he''d been happy to steal anything that jerk liked on general principle. However, the clock had soon revealed itself to be far more than a simple time piece. It kept track of all the various cycles that governed the world, both mystical and mundane.


    Did he want to know if the moon was full because he was planning to hunt down and eat a bunch of werewolves? The clock could tell him.


    What if he wanted to know when the tides would be low because he was feeling peckish for some merfolk to go with his kraken? The clock had him covered.


    And what if he fell asleep for decades on end and wanted to know what year it was when he woke up? Not a problem. The clock could tell him exactly what year it was.


    The clock appeared in front of him and he used his magic again to relay his commands to the clock. Despite being the size of a house, it was still far too delicate for him to handle with his bare claws. A moment later, the clock provided the answer. It had been seventy-five years since he had last awakened.


    Hmmm... so he''d awakened twenty-five years early? Not too bad. It was tempting to go back to sleep, but... no. He really did want to stretch his wings, and it might be nice to remind all of the people who lived in his territory that their tribute would be due soon. There was nothing quite like a mile-long dragon appearing overhead to remind people of where their priorities should be.


    Sending the clock back to its place in his hoard, Doomwing took a few steps back and then beat his wings. Only the magic on his hoard kept it from being blown away, and waves of lava rolled across the lake behind him. Once, twice, and then a third time he beat his wings before leaping into the air and taking wing for the first time in seventy-five years.Visit  for the best novel reading experience


    Below him was the massive volcano he called his home. It was the largest and tallest peak in the world, so high that he never had to worry about thieves since they would just suffocate and so wide that the lake he liked to sleep in only occupied part of the summit. Despite its height, its slopes were devoid of snow. Instead, fumaroles, burning chasms, and all manner of fiery features marked the side of the volcano. The land at its base was little better, and a vast swathe of smouldering earth stretched out for dozens of miles.


    "In that case, I will go east as well." Doomwing was about to flare his wings before he remembered that doing so would probably unleash a hurricane that would annihilate what was left of the village. Instead, he quickly cast a protective spell over the village before taking to the air again. "I will deal with the soldiers and then return to fix your village."


    It wouldn''t do if the villages here were unable to provide tribute.


    Captain Jarod Evans was having a rather good night. There was nothing quite like a bit of pillaging to get his blood pumping. True, they''d been ordered not to kill too many of the farmers since the king was planning to annex this entire area in the future, but a little bit of killing was practically mandatory for this sort of thing. Yes, riding in, stabbing a few people, and then burning some stuff was the best way to make the right impression. They could obey, or they could die.


    He wasn''t scared of the dragon either. It was only supposed to wake up every hundred years or so, and that crap about it being a mile long? Impossible. The largest dragon he''d ever seen had only been five hundred feet long. It had been a tough, old bastard, but the kingdom''s wizards and warriors had still been able to bring it down by using spells and weapons derived from the kingdom''s collection of ancient tomes and armouries. There were few things in the Seventh Age that could withstand the wonders of the Sixth. Even if that dragon woke up, they''d have twenty-five years to prepare themselves. They just kill it if it dared to show its face.


    Honestly, though, he''d been a bit surprised that the king had given them such free rein. Sure, he liked throwing his weight around, but it would have made more sense to force the farmers to hand over their crops instead of burning them. Oh well. The king was big on the whole ''fear my power'' approach to ruling, so perhaps it was a way of ensuring the people here never even thought of rebelling once their lands were added to the kingdom''s.


    "How far are we from the next village?" he asked his second in command.


    Taylor opened his mouth to reply and then fell silent.


    "What?" Jarod barked. "Taylor?" And then he noticed that the other knight wasn''t looking at him. Instead, he was looking up and behind him. It had also gone very dark all of a sudden. There was supposed to be a full moon out. Had clouds rolled in? Was rain coming? It would be a hassle trying to burn everything if it was raining.


    "D... d..."


    "What?" Jarod finally turned, and all the blood in his veins turned to ice. There were no clouds. There was no rain coming. But there was a dragon, and it was really damn big. It might even be a mile long.


    "You thought you could steal from me?" The dragon''s voice shook the earth and sky.


    Jarod was vaguely aware of being flung off his horse as the animal screeched to a stop in sudden instinctive terror. The others were little better, and they stumbled to their feet as a second sun bloomed in the skies overhead.


    No. Not a second sun.


    That was fire kindling in the dragon''s jaws.


    Jarod swallowed thickly. "Oh fuck."

 Chapter 2: Enter The Dragon

    Chapter 2: Enter The Dragon


    Jarod gathered his wits. "Defensive magic now!" he boomed. "As much as you can! All of it!"


    To the credit of his troops, they managed to shake off their terror, and magic bloomed to life around him. Glowing circles of mystical energy formed in the air above them as spell after spell took shape and bent the world to their collective will.


    Protect.


    Shield.


    Defend.


    The words echoed through his soul, and hope stirred within him. They could do this. The dragon might be huge, but it was only a single creature. They were a hundred of the kingdom''s finest. Not all of them were proper mages, but a decent number of them could wield magic of the third and fourth order. All of their efforts combined should be roughly equivalent to a fifth-order defensive spell, and a fifth-order defensive spell was strong enough to withstand a barrage from a siege mage.


    This could work. Their defensive magic would keep them alive, and the dragon would be forced to close in because everyone knew that dragons could only deploy their breath attack for a limited time before they had to wait for it to recharge. The dragon was huge, but that meant it would be slow and clumsy. If he could just dodge when it lashed out, he could win because he carried one of the kingdom''s treasure with him, a sword from the Sixth Age.


    The sword had supposedly belonged to a noble from that bygone era, and the king had given it to him to help him better serve the kingdom''s interests. It was imbued with magic that the kingdom''s mages and smiths could not replicate, and it was capable of cutting through even enchanted steel with ease. Jarod had tested it against the scales of the dragon that the kingdom had killed. It had taken some effort, but the blade had still been able to pierce through them.New novel chapters are published on


    "Take heart!" Jarod boomed as he drew the sword and held it aloft. "Once the dragon exhausts itself trying to break through our defences, I will strike it down!"


    His troops cheered, and Jarod reached for the magic woven into the sword and added it to the panoply of defensive spells above them. The blade shone with an eerie blue light, and the strength of the defensive spells more than tripled. With this, their defence might even qualify as a lower-level spell of the sixth order.


    "Do you worst, dragon!" he cried. "For you face the kingdom''s finest!"


    Doomwing studied the pathetic mishmash of defensive spells below him and fought the urge to sigh. Really? They were going to try to fight off his fire breath with a bunch of third- and fourth-order spells? That was honestly just insulting. Sure, all of the spell together added up to something in the neighbourhood of the fifth-order, and that little stick their leader was waving around boosted them up to maybe the sixth-order, but that was it.


    And it wasn''t nearly enough.


    As Doomwing began to peer into the human''s memories, blood began to pour from the human''s eyes, nose, and mouth. Doomwing chuckled. Ah, Marcus would have found this amusing. The ancient vampire had always liked to poke fun at Doomwing''s inability to peer into people''s minds without melting their brains, especially since Marcus was far more adept at it. Bah. Marcus was a vampire. Of course, he was better at peering into people''s minds. It was part and parcel of being a vampire, right there with the bloodsucking, the brooding, and the hedonistic lifestyle that involved wearing far too much black leather.


    "Gah!" Jarod began to wail, and Doomwing cast a silencing spell over him. That sort of high-pitched screaming was annoying.


    Doomwing focused on the information he was pulling from Jarod''s mind. The man had apparently been a highly ranked captain in his kingdom''s forces, and he had the trust and favour of his king. That same king wanted to expand his territory by taking land from his neighbours. The kingdom had managed to defeat a dragon a while ago, so the king had come to the conclusion that seizing some of Doomwing''s land was a viable option.


    Idiot.


    The dragon they''d slain had been a young, vainglorious fool, the sort of reptile who focused only on expanding their hoard instead of honing their power, wisdom, and cunning. Doomwing had met - and killed - plenty of fools like that over the years. They had things backward. Having a hoard didn''t make them powerful and worthy of respect. No. Becoming powerful and worthy of respect was the best way to get and keep a suitably impressive hoard.


    He''d have to educate this king and his kingdom on what a real dragon was like, and he''d have to see if all the other dragons of this Age were so pathetic. If they were, he might have to stay awake a bit longer because clearly something had gone wrong if a dragon who was a mere five hundred feet long thought he was invincible.


    Still, he couldn''t help but be irritated by the king''s name and the title he claimed.


    Doomwing ceased delving into Jarod''s mind as the man''s mouth opened and closed. Impressive. Despite his brain leaking out of his skull, the man was trying to speak. He might have been a fool, but Doomwing could respect that sort of determination. He dispelled the silencing magic and allowed the man to speak his last words.


    "You..." Jarod bared his teeth in a snarl. "You have no idea of the fate that awaits you, dragon. High King Elerion will slay you himself! He is destined to rule over this world! He will unite the kingdoms of men once more and -"


    That little spark of irritation Doomwing felt turned into a bonfire.


    "Be silent!" Doomwing boomed. "Your king is unworthy of that name and that title!" He snarled, and fire kindled in his jaws once more. Memories came to him unbidden of a human with eyes like adamant and a soul like the sun. "I knew the last High King, and I was there when Elerion the Valiant fell! His armour was rent in a hundred places, his blessed sword was broken, and he was crippled and blinded! Yet still he fought, crushing the foes he could reach with his bare hands and piling high the bodies of his enemies until they had to climb hills of their dead to reach him! It took the Catastrophe of the Sixth Age herself to slay him, and even then, he managed to wound her before he fell! Your king is nothing more than an up-jumped brigand, and I truly hope that his lineage has nothing to do with my old friend''s, for the shame of it would haunt him even in the afterlife!"


    Doomwing took a deep, calming breath and then sighed. His anger had gotten the better of him, and the force of his words had reduced Jarod to pulp.


    "Never mind." Doomwing gave a low rumble. "I should seek out the other villages and make sure there are no more soldiers left. After that... yes. I''ll have to help them get back on their feet. Then I can deal with that pretender king." His lips curled into a very wide, very toothy smile. "It''s been a while since I''ve razed a kingdom. It should be fun, and maybe they''ll have some decent loot." He paused. "I should contact Marcus. He should still be around unless that fool managed to get himself killed somehow. It''ll be like old times."

 Chapter 3: The Dragon Reaches Out

    Chapter 3: The Dragon Reaches Out


    The village headman prostrated himself on the ground. "Thank you, mighty dragon! Truly, we are blessed to have you as our lord and master!"


    Normally, Doomwing would have been irritated at having to visit so many small villages. However, it had been a while since his ego had been so thoroughly stroked. Napping all the time and living in a volcano meant that he didn''t really have many opportunities to be showered in praise. Oh, he''d been flattered before. He was a dragon. People almost always tried to flatter him in a bid to avoid getting eaten. But this? Honest, sincere praise from the very depths of a person''s heart? This was far rarer and far more enjoyable.


    Doomwing nodded regally and then took to the air once more. That was the last village that he needed to fix. As he soared through the sky, it occurred to him that the fields he''d seen so far looked quite different from the fields of the Sixth Age. If the villagers were anything like the soldiers, then they''d probably forgotten the superior ways of farming that had become widespread by the end of the Sixth Age. Doomwing didn''t really care about farming, but he did care about his tribute. The more crops the villagers grew, the more money they would be able to get, and the larger his tribute would be.


    But even if he didn''t know a lot about farming, he did have books about it. They were part of his hoard, either gifted to him by his friends or taken as loot when he''d raided several of the world''s greatest libraries over the millennia. Rather than worry about which books to take, he had used his magic to seize all of them. A lesser dragon might have been content with taking only the books concerning magic or forbidden lore, but Doomwing was no foolish hatchling. All knowledge was valuable, so taking all of the books was the best option.


    And books could be bargained for other things. Many scholars, wizards, and kings had approached him with vast sums of wealth, just for a chance to read the books in his hoard. Elerion had been particularly fond of the books about farming. After all, he''d been a farmer''s son before he''d become a king, and he''d always dreamed of retiring to a farm of his own once his kingdoms were secure and his children were ready to take over. The plan was to grow potatoes and cabbages and try to convince Doomwing to eat them. Of course, he''d never gotten that farm or grown those vegetables, and any desire Doomwing might have felt to read those books had died alongside his friend.


    He could use his magic to copy those books and give them to the headmen of the villages. Wait... could the villagers even read? And if they could, did they even use the same script as before? Damn it. Well, he did have an artefact in his hoard that could impart knowledge. He''d have to test it on a few people to make sure it wouldn''t melt their brains, but he could always grab some soldiers when he attacked the kingdom. They were going to die one way or another, so who cared if it was by his teeth or claws or by having their brains melted by an ancient artefact? At least, they''d be useful before they died.


    Doomwing returned to his lair and took a moment to bask in the sheer opulence of his hoard. Marcus had once accused him of being the single greatest deflationary force in the world due to just how much of the world''s wealth had ended up in his hoard, but that was rubbish. He wasn''t the only truly ancient dragon out there, and the others were every bit as greedy as he was. Naturally, he was confident that his hoard was better than theirs, but if all of their hoards were added together, then maybe they might something approaching the greatness of his.


    With his magic, Doomwing called the Apeiron Mirror to him. It was amongst the greatest of his treasures and one of the few that he''d made himself. The mirror embodied some of the most complex and powerful scrying and communication magic in existence. At his command, it could find almost anyone in the world and allow him to speak to them.


    He carefully positioned the mirror so that whoever he spoke to would have a view of not only him but also his splendid hoard before activating it and reaching out to Marcus. The mirror''s surface shimmered before a vast image appeared above it.


    Doomwing''s eyes narrowed. It was a battlefield. Dead bodies were strewn in the snow amidst vivid starbursts of red. Tattered banners and broken weapons littered the ground, and roaming bands of warriors stalked through the snow, hunting down survivors and looting the dead. Amidst it all stood Marcus, and the ancient vampire looked much as Doomwing remembered him. He was almost seven feet tall with broad shoulders and dark hair. His eyes were the red of freshly spilt blood, and the sword he held was a blade wrought of metal blacker than the dead of night and studded with scarlet runes.


    But unlike the last time Doomwing had seen him, Marcus wasn''t wearing any black, and he wasn''t wearing leather either. Instead, his body was covered in furs taken from beasts common to the far north where winter never ended and summer was only a legend. Rather than being clean shaven, Marcus had a beard, and his hair was wild and unkempt and almost to his shoulders.


    The battlefield fell still and silent as the mirror projected an image of Doomwing and his surroundings into the air above Marcus.


    "You''re playing barbarian again?" Doomwing laughed. "Is this a phase, or are you planning to make something of it?"


    Marcus grinned and drove his sword through the back of a man who''d been trying to crawl away. "It''s been a while since we spoke, old friend. Just about a thousand years."


    "What''s a thousand years to people like us?" Doomwing replied.


    "Fair enough." Marcus barked an order, and the warriors resumed their activities although many of them kept a wary eye on the image of the dragon. "It''s good to see you again. Have your wounds healed?"


    "Not completely, but they no longer ache." Doomwing bared his teeth. "I woke up early. Some fool of a king decided to send soldiers to attack my territory."


    "Are all of the soldiers dead, and is that king still alive?"


    "Of course, they''re dead. As for the king, I was wondering if you''d like to come along when I raze his kingdom. You''re in the far north, but I can drop by to pick you up. It''ll be like old times." Doomwing snickered. "Remember that kingdom of minotaurs in the Fifth Age?"


    "I remember. It should have taken us less than a week to burn that kingdom to the ground. You dragged it out for a month because you wanted to eat as many of them as possible." Marcus shook his head. "But me? Bah. Minotaur blood tastes foul."


    "Marcus, a minotaur is basically beef that walks on two legs. And we both know that meat with a lot of magic in it tastes better. Since cows aren''t exactly known for having lots of magic that makes minotaurs the best beef in the world." Doomwing scoffed. "And if they didn''t want to be eaten, their shamans shouldn''t have tried to create their own demon god. So... you want me to come and get you?"


    Marcus sighed and then shook his head. "I''m afraid I''ll be busy for at least another couple of years, old friend."


    Doomwing''s brows furrowed. "Busy? It''s not like you to turn down a chance for a bit of mayhem."


    "There''s never been a dragon king before," Doomwing murmured. Dragons did not have kings, for every dragon was a power unto themselves. Nor did dragons seek kingship. What need did they have for kingdoms when they themselves possessed greater power than any kingdom?


    "You''d be the first," Marcus said. "And, to be honest, it''s not like you could be any worse than the current bunch of fools who''re in charge. You''re not pointlessly cruel, and you have a functional brain, as well as access to what is probably the most complete collection of books from previous Ages. Think of how many people you could help." Doomwing gave him a flat look, and the vampire laughed. "Okay, fine. But think of the tribute you would be able to collect if you were a king."


    Doomwing''s draconic greed stirred. He had seen just how much money a prosperous kingdom could generate. One of the biggest problems dragons faced was finding ways to increase their hoard. The quickest and easiest way was to seize treasure from kingdoms. However, that method simply wasn''t viable in the long term. A dragon could only seize a kingdom''s treasury two or three times before the kingdom collapsed, and it could be centuries, even millennia, before another prosperous kingdom arose in its place. Sure, a dragon could expand their territory, seizing treasure from kingdoms that were further and further away, but that would eventually bring them into conflict with other dragons, not to mention it was annoying having to travel so far.


    His territory was one way of solving that issue. By leaving the villagers to their own devices for a century at a time and then collecting tribute, he could slowly but surely increase the size of his hoard without much effort. Ruling a kingdom would doubtless involve far more effort, but he could already imagine the rewards. Instead of paying taxes, the entire kingdom would be paying tribute to him. A kingdom generated money in so many different ways, and he''d be getting a slice of all of it. Even better, a kingdom was full of people who could do things. Instead of simply receiving more gold and silver, there was a chance that he could get his subjects to make him new artefacts and other treasures. Sure, he''d probably have to share some of his knowledge and wisdom with them, but it had been so long since he''d added new artefacts and treasures to his hoard.


    "Perhaps I could try it," Doomwing said at last. "Dragon Emperor Doomwing does have a nice ring to it."


    "Dragon emperor?"


    "Naturally, I have to be above any mere king, and an emperor is greater than a king."


    "Maybe I should call myself Vampire Emperor Marcus after I win then."


    Doomwing scoffed. "Really? Call yourself whatever you like, but I will always be greater than you."


    "You sure about that?" Marcus snickered. "Fine. How about this? We can both become kings -"


    "That''s dragon emperor-"


    "We can both become kings, and then we see who does a better job of actually being a king."


    "You think you can be a better king than me?" Doomwing asked. "Impossible. I am a dragon, Marcus. I''m naturally awesome at everything."


    "We''ll see."


    "Fine." Doomwing smiled. "I''ll keep in touch, Marcus. And if things don''t work out up there, don''t lose your life fighting battles you can''t win."


    "Worried about me?" Marcus asked.


    "Not really. But a dragon emperor does need good servants..."


    "Oh, shut up."


    Doomwing sneered. "Bite me."


    "You''re only saying that because you know I can''t bite through your scales."


    "Of course." Doomwing''s sneer gave way to a grin. "Good luck, Marcus. I believe in you. You really will make a good king."


    "That''s-"


    "But not as good a king as me." Doomwing took a moment to savour the vampire''s outraged expression before he cut the connection. Ah, the joys of being the person who operated the mirror. He always got the last word in.

 Chapter 4: The Dragon Talks To A Tree

    Chapter 4: The Dragon Talks To A Tree


    "Any word from Captain Evans?" Callan asked. He and Jarod had come from neighbouring towns, so they had stuck together another during their training days. Neither were of noble birth, so they had often found themselves squaring off against the children of nobles eager to put two commoners back in their place. They had proven themselves worthy in the end. Jarod had won the king''s favour and had risen to be one of the kingdom''s most famous knights. Callan had not risen so high, but his position as captain of a fort along the border was far better than his life as a farmer''s third son would otherwise have been.


    The soldier tasked with watching the lands to the east shook his head. "There have been no signals, captain."


    "I see." Callan''s brows furrowed. Jarod should already be on the way back with his men, and he was supposed to send up a beam of light as a signal.


    "They have a lot of ground to cover," the soldier said. "Perhaps it is simply taking them longer than expected."


    "Aye." Callan nodded more to himself than the other man. "That must be it."


    He was not fond of the plan to raid the villages in the dragon''s territory. The dragon only stirred once a century, so they should still have another twenty-five years before the beast awakened. Supposedly, the king had a plan in place to deal with the beast should it happen to show itself, but Callan was not as quick to dismiss the rumours of its size as others had been. A dragon a mile long? It sounded like lunacy, yet the stories over the centuries had been incredibly consistent on that point. It was entirely possible that all of their ancestors had been fools who gave the reptile''s power more respect than it deserved, but he doubted all of them had been blind.


    A shadow fell over them. Callan and the soldier both looked up, and the captain''s mouth went dry. Gleaming like a cloud of ruby and sapphire in the silver light of the moon was a dragon. Normally, the outpost was bustling with activity, even at this time of night. Now, not a single person or animal dared to move or make a sound. The wyverns the scouts used to patrol the cruel, rugged terrain to the north and south had pressed their heads to the ground and folded their wings in a sign of obeisance.


    Callan had ridden a wyvern into battle before. He had even glimpsed a dragon from afar. His wyvern had not kneeled then. It had been eager for battle, keen to prove that it deserved its place in the sky. Not this time. Faced with a dragon a mile long, the wyverns could only pay homage and hope that the dragon did not see fit to annihilate them for having the audacity to fly in its sky.


    "Captain..." The soldier swallowed thickly. "Shall... shall we dispatch the wyvern riders, archers, and mages?"


    Callan stared at him. "Are you insane? What would they even do against a beast that size? And look at the wyverns. Do you think a single one of them would dare to take wing when that thing is still in the air?" His fists clenched. If the dragon had crossed the border, then Jarod was likely already dead, along with all of his troops. "Send word to the capital with the communication crystal. We must warn them."


    The communication crystal was one of the treasures of the outpost. It had the range to reach the capital itself although the magic involved was too delicate for the crystal to be taken out of the outpost. Instead, it had to be kept in a special room where skilled mages and artificers spent much of their time ensuring it was in optimal condition.


    Had Doomwing known about it, he would have laughed. Imagine spending so much time on a crystal that utilised a spell of the fifth order. How utterly laughable! The captains of the Sixth Age had carried around pendants with far greater range and far better reliability. Elerion had even received one from his daughter that had let her speak to him even when he was on the other side of the continent.


    Doomwing was tempted to burn every single outpost along the border to the ground. But if he was going to crown himself emperor, then those outposts would soon be his. There was no reason to burn them unless the people in them were stupid enough to fight him. Thus far all of them had done their best impressions of moles, hiding away in their little buildings and hoping he didn''t notice them. He had also run into a patrol of wyvern riders. Three of the four wyverns had done the intelligent thing and had immediately gone to ground, bowing to him as was proper for the beasts. He had always found wyverns amusing with their mix of reptilian and avian features. Unlike drakes, however, wyverns knew where they stood in the food chain, and they had no qualms about acknowledging their betters. He had lost count of how many drakes had tried to challenge him. Those up-jumped lizards seemed to think they could defeat him if they simply gathered in greater numbers.


    Of course, they didn''t stand a chance. It was basic math. A thousand times zero was still zero.


    On the upside, drakes were tasty. Ah, what he wouldn''t give for a nice drake to come along and pick a fight. He could really use a bunch of sea drakes for dinner. They had a wonderful saltiness to them that other drakes lacked, and their scales were nice and crunchy too. Oh well. Perhaps he''d visit the coast later. There were bound to be at least a few stupid drakes there for him to eat.This chapter is updated by


    The fourth and final wyvern was the only one foolish enough to challenge him. To the horror of its rider, the beast gave a shrill, keening cry and dove toward him. The beast was brave, albeit incredibly stupid. Doomwing grinned and opened his mouth. Why go looking for a snack when a snack had come to him? A moment later, his jaws snapped shut, crushing both the wyvern and its rider. Like all dragons, Doomwing consumed not only flesh but also metal. The wyvern and its rider were barely a morsel, and the scraps of metal that passed for armour and weapons were bland and tasteless. Mundane steel with a hint of magic, nothing above the second order.


    As he continued toward where Jarod''s memories said the capital was, Doomwing felt a familiar sliver of power. He gave a low rumble and then decided to change course. The capital would still be there later, and this power might very well prove useful to the farmers in his territory. He turned south and landed outside a complex of abandoned buildings. From the looks of them, they had been left to fall into disrepair and had not seen any real care in at least several centuries.


    The power he sensed was further in, and he simply moved forward, smashing his way through the crumbling, derelict buildings until he reached the inner sanctum of the complex. There, gilded in faint emerald light, was a tree. It was a large tree, tall and thick and bustling with life. Families of ornery raccoons glared down at him, and groups of squirrels came forth to shake their little paws at him. He chuckled. How amusing. The raccoons and squirrels of this Age showed more courage than the humans. Elerion would have laughed until he could barely breathe.


    The emerald light upon the tree coalesced into a humanoid shape in front of him.


    "And so little grows here now except the weeds." The dryad nodded at the animals in her tree. "There were many of them back then. These are all that remain, and I do not know how long I can sustain them. The ground here is no longer meant for such as me."


    "The king who found you, this Altarius, who was his father?" Doomwing asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to have it confirmed.


    "His father was the last High King, Elerion the Valiant, or so he said."


    "I see." Doomwing had known Altarius. He had been a good man with a son of his own. Elerion had loved all his children, but Altarius had held a special place in his heart. The boy had been born sickly, yet he had survived and thrived, growing to become a son that any man would be proud of. It was pleasing to know he had been a good king although his descendants left much to be desired. "Then the kings of this land are his descendants?"


    "Yes."


    "Are all of them fools?" Doomwing asked. "Has the blood of the High King grown so thin that not a single one of them is worthy of the title of king?"


    "The current king is a fool, or so I hear from the birds that visit me. However, he is said to have a younger brother who is wise, and it is he who has kept the kingdom from falling beneath the weight of the king''s ambition. The king''s eldest daughter is also said to be more like her ancestors than her father, so perhaps there is hope for the kingdom yet." The dryad''s anger seemed to have banked, like the coals of a fire being readied for a long night. "What now, dragon?"


    "Now... I make you an offer." Doomwing rose up from his haunches. "Your mother was my friend, for all that I helped strike her down. If you stay here, you will die. Perhaps not for a century, perhaps not even for two centuries, but you will die. The magic that was tried has poisoned this place, and you do not have the skill or power to undo it. If you were older, maybe, but you are young for a dryad." Doomwing spread his wings wide as if to carry the whole weight of the sky upon his shoulders. "Would you like to be amidst fields again, dryad?"


    "I would, dragon. But do you have any?"


    "I have many," Doomwing replied. "And they are tended to by good folk. If you want, I will take you to the lands I have claimed. I will plant you in rich soil, and you will be amidst fields again. The people there are simple villagers and farmers. They do not have the greedy, grasping hands of unworthy kings. They will love the gifts you give, and they will cherish and protect you."


    "How can I trust you?" the dryad asked quietly. "You killed my mother. You could kill me with less than a thought."


    Doomwing took a deep breath. "What need have I for the petty tricks and deceit of lesser beings? I am Doomwing, a dragon of the First Age. I am not like the weak and cowardly dragons of later Ages. I am what dragons were meant to be, and my words are truth. I do not make oaths lightly, but I do not break the ones I make. If you will swear to aid me in my endeavours and those who serve me, then my claws, my teeth, and my fire shall defend you!" He lowered his voice. "Your mother was kind to me, and there are few indeed who offer kindness to dragons. I would repay that kindness, at least in this small way."


    "How... how would you bring me to your lands?" the dryad asked.


    Doomwing chuckled. "I am a mile long, dryad, and I wield magic that the bumbling conjurors of this Age could not hope to understand. Transporting you to my lands safely will be no issue."


    "And them?" The dryad glanced back at the animals in her branches.


    "My protection will be extended to those who rely upon you as well."


    "Then..." The dryad took a deep breath. "Then I will make an oath to you."


    "Good." Doomwing paused as a thought occurred to him. "What is your name, dryad?"


    "You''re only asking that now?" She chuckled. "Daphne. My name is Daphne."

 Chapter 5: Regime Change

    Chapter 5: Regime Change


    As Doomwing neared the capital, he realised why the place had looked so familiar in Jarod''s memories. He''d been there before. In fact, he''d visited it regularly toward the end of the Sixth Age.


    The capital was a hodgepodge of buildings. The largest and finest of the buildings were clearly remnants from the Sixth Age, worn and weathered but still magnificent, a testament to the heights humanity had reached before the Sixth Catastrophe. Much of the magic that had once protected them had faded, most likely because the techniques required to maintain them had been forgotten centuries ago. In keeping with Elerion''s tastes in architecture, the buildings made extensive use of sweeping arches, ornate pillars, and slender, soaring towers.


    Frankly, Doomwing had always thought it all looked a bit pretentious, but he was a dragon. His kind had never put much stock in architecture because they had never needed buildings to shelter themselves. Their scales were proof against even the most inclement weather, and the fire that dwelt within them shielded them from whatever cold the world could muster. To a dragon, the only thing that mattered was defensibility. A stout fortress with many soldiers, mages, and weapons to defend it was far more pleasing to a dragon''s eye than any appeal to aesthetics.


    Elerion had called him a boor, and Marcus had agreed with him. Not that it mattered. Dragons had never really believed in democracy. Instead, they prized strength and power. By that metric, Doomwing was clearly in the right because he was stronger than both of his friends. Kagami had agreed with him although he suspected that she had only done that to be obnoxious. It was just like her to say something outrageous to provoke a reaction from Elerion. She was probably the only person in the world who could look at the High King and call him adorable.


    It was a pity that he''d been forced to kill her later although, by that point, she hadn''t really been Kagami anymore.


    The other buildings in the capital were less impressive although there were clear signs of progression. The buildings that were about two centuries old were mostly made of bricks, and there was little to praise about either their strength or their appearance. However, the newest buildings, some of which appeared to have been made in the last decade or two, showed commendable masonry work, and there were spells of the second and third order woven into the stone. It was far from impressive, but the improvement was nevertheless worthy of praise.


    However, what truly drew his eye was the large, almost perfectly circular lake beside the capital.New novel chapters are published on


    He could remember making that lake. Elerion had whined about not having a suitable lake where he could build a holiday palace, and Doomwing had gotten so sick of his whinging that he''d used his power to carve out a circular crater and fill it with water. Naturally, Kagami had berated him for using his power so recklessly, but that hadn''t stopped her from immediately seizing control of the construction crews that Elerion had dispatched. Since he was basically building the palace for her, she saw no reason not to oversee construction personally.


    It was a shame she''d blown it up later.


    Still, it was nice to see the lake again. He''d almost forgotten it. No. He''d made an effort not to think about it because of all the memories that came with it. There had been a lot of good memories, but there had been plenty of bad ones too. He could still remember the arguments they''d had about what sort of fish they should add to the lake. In the end, he''d let the others decide. It wasn''t as though anything they could add would be large enough to sate his appetite since anything big enough would probably eat everything else they put in the lake. Oh well. If he wanted a whale or a kraken, he could always fly to the sea. It wasn''t far, not for him.


    As he circled over the capital, he realised that the city was in uproar... and not because of him. Soldiers were clashing on the streets, and the large complex of buildings that Jarod''s memories told him was the palace was currently on fire. Were they under attack? No. The soldiers were wearing similar uniforms and armour, which meant it was probably an uprising of some sort. But what could have caused it? His lips curled. He had felt the use of communication magic while flying over the border. Being told that a giant dragon was headed toward the capital might have been the impetus that prospective rebels needed. After all, if the king had angered the aforementioned giant dragon, then clearly he was incompetent and needed to be removed.


    How amusing. Doomwing was almost tempted to let the whole thing play out, but if he wanted to be a decent emperor, then he''d need decent minions. It wouldn''t do if the incompetent king survived at the expense of more competent subordinates.


    Princess Antaria cut down another member of the royal guard and looked around to see if her uncle was still alive. Their attempt to oust her father had not gone as they''d planned. For all of his reckless ambition and greed, her father''s paranoia had served him well. The twenty members of the royal guard that followed him everywhere had been accompanied by a further thirty, all of them hidden using an artefact that she hadn''t known about. Throw in the swarms of regular soldiers and mages her father had at his disposal, and the elite strike force that she and her uncle had counted on to quickly take him into custody had suddenly found itself besieged on all sides.


    At some point, some fool had also set fire to the palace. Not only were they badly outnumbered but they were also operating on a time limit. So far, the fire was confined to the eastern wing, but it wouldn''t be long before it spread. Worse, the head of the royal guard was a skilled tactician, and he had been slowly but surely pushing their forces toward the fire. They had called for reinforcements from their supporters in the city, but the last she''d heard, they were currently tied up fighting loyalists in the streets.


    "Antaria!"


    She turned and breathed a sigh of relief. Her uncle was still alive although his armour was dented in several places, and his left arm hung limp by his side. "Uncle."


    Another royal guardsman rushed toward her, and she called on her dwindling reserves of magic. The third-order fire spell formed more slowly than she''d like, and it had little of the power she''d been able to muster when the battle had begun. However, it was enough to throw her opponent off balance, and she drove her sword through the visor of his helmet. The strike wasn''t perfect, but the enchanted edge of the weapon let her pierce through the steel of his helmet.


    She yanked her sword free and bit back a curse as more soldiers poured into the hallway. "Uncle, we are losing."


    "I am well aware of that," he said. "But we both knew this was a possibility when we decided to make our move."


    "This was our best chance," Antaria replied. "With a dragon on the way, I thought we''d be able to catch my father off guard. Who would have known he''d be more worried about potential rebellion than a mile-long reptile with revenge on its mind?"


    "True. But my brother has always been paranoid about treachery since that''s how he took the throne in the first place." Her uncle sighed. "Get out of here. We''re boxed in, and it''s only a matter of time before we''re overrun. You know all the secret passages in the palace. You''ll be able to get out. Flee the city and try to rally more support. If you''re lucky, the dragon will burn this place to the ground, and you won''t even have to fight your father for control."


    "I''d still have to face my brothers," Antaria replied. "And they are older and have more support."


    "They''re a lot like your father. I can see them being foolish enough to challenge the dragon."


    "Uncle..."


    "Just go." He chuckled. "Your father hates me. The only reason I''m still alive is because he knows I''m better at running a kingdom than he is. As long as I was useful, he was willing to tolerate me. But now? Not a chance. I''ll kill as many of them as I can before I die, and I might even get lucky and kill him too." He clenched his right fist. "I''ve never been much of a fighter anyway, but I do know a spell or two that might be useful here."


    The dragon brought his claw down again, and thus passed Antaria''s father, the king who dared to call himself Elerion after their great ancestor. The dragon raised his claw and then flicked it the same way a man might flick his hand after squashing a fly.


    "How pathetic," the dragon said. "The real Elerion wouldn''t have knelt there. He would have died fighting, as futile as it would have been. Some men, after all, do not have it in them to kneel, while others will sacrifice anything and everything just to live another day." His golden eyes snapped to Antaria and her uncle. "I am told that the king had a younger brother who wasn''t completely hopeless at running a kingdom. Is that you?"


    Her uncle gulped and nodded. "Yes, mighty dragon. That would be me."


    "Good. You are now king."


    "... what?" her uncle blurted.


    "I am taking over this kingdom. From this day forward, I will be Dragon Emperor Doomwing. This kingdom belongs to me now, and it will not be long before I add others to it. You will rule it in my name as king."


    "I... uh... okay?" her uncle replied.


    "Serve me well, and you will be richly rewarded. Serve me poorly, and you will die like your predecessor." Doomwing bared his teeth again. "Your name is Enarion, isn''t it?" Her uncle nodded slowly. "And you have great interest in science, magic, and lore of the past, do you not?" He nodded again. "I am a dragon of the First Age."


    "The First Age?" Her uncle took a step forward. "Then... you have scrolls and books from the past?"


    "I have all the books and scroll you could possibly hope for. Serve me to the best of your ability, and I will allow you to read copies of some of them. In fact, I will even grant you access to certain texts to ensure you can serve me better."


    "What... what do you wish for me to do?" her uncle asked.


    "I have been told that you are responsible for a large part of this kingdom''s recent prosperity. I am a dragon. What I wish for is tribute. The more prosperous this kingdom is, the more tribute it will be able to give me. Therefore, your task is to guide this kingdom, my kingdom, to even greater prosperity."


    Her uncle took off his helmet, and she could see that there were tears glistening in the corner of his eyes. Who could blame him? The dragon had spared them and instead of demanding they hand over people to be devoured, he had instead ordered her uncle to lead the kingdom to greater prosperity. "I will do as you have asked, great Doomwing."


    "Call me Dragon Emperor Doomwing."


    "Of course. Dragon Emperor Doomwing." Her uncle made a face. "But there are those who will oppose me. My brother had sons. They will not doubt try to overthrow me."


    "Kindly inform them that any and all attacks on you will be viewed as attacks on me." Doomwing''s eyes gleamed with the promise of violence. "And there will be no second chances. Only death. They can cooperate, or they can die." He glanced at the remaining members of the royal guard, as well as the soldiers who had, until Doomwing''s arrival, been doing their best to kill them. "That goes for everybody else too."


    The guardsmen and soldiers immediately fell to their knees and began to pledge their loyalty. It was completely understandable too.


    "I also require one other thing," Doomwing said.


    "What is it, dragon emperor?"


    "Her." Doomwing pointed at Antaria. "I''ll be needing her."


    Antaria''s eyes widened. "Me?" she croaked. "What do you need me for?"


    "What does anyone need a princess for?" Doomwing asked.


    "Um..." Antaria couldn''t help but think of all the stories she''d read about dragons and what they did to princesses. "I..." She looked at her uncle for help. He stared back at her and shrugged helplessly. "Are you going to eat me?" she asked at last.


    "..." Doomwing tilted his head to the side. "You''re absolutely tiny. You wouldn''t even be a snack. No. I''m not going to eat you. I need someone to help manage the villages in my territory. From now on, that''s going to be you."


    "Oh."

 Interlude 1: The Hatchling

    Interlude 1: The Hatchling


    Doomwing couldn''t help but envy his parents'' scales. His father''s scales were a deep red that called to mind the horizon at dawn or dusk whilst his mother''s were a vivid blue that reminded him of the sky just after the sun had dipped below the horizon and darkness had yet to truly fall. They were big too, so much bigger than he was. They were each roughly seven hundred feet long although his father was perhaps a few feet longer. In contrast, Doomwing was a mere twelve feet in length.


    But he would grow. for as long as a dragon lived, they would only grow bigger and stronger, or so his parents had told him. It seemed like only yesterday he had been a mere ten feet in length, and he could still vaguely remember a time when he had been smaller. He ate well each day, feasting on the scraps of kraken, leviathan, and whale that his parents brought him and on the fish, deer, and cattle that he was large enough to slay. There was something satisfying about eating what he killed, something that felt right and honest and true in a way that eating the food others gave him never did.


    "Have you finished eating?" his mother poked him with her tail. Had she wanted, she could easily have smashed every bone in his body, yet her touch was firm without being painful. "Your father and I must tend to our duties. We will accompany you to Mother Tree, but we expect you to work hard." Her amethyst gaze burned into him. "Do not spend all your time playing with the other hatchlings and children, and do not waste you time with that layabout god."


    "Yes, mother," Doomwing replied. Of course, he had no intention of spending all his time studying. His parents lived high up in the mountains, so his classes with Mother Tree were his best opportunity to meet other hatchlings and children, and Dion was an interesting god. True, he wasn''t very powerful or good at fighting, but he was fun to be around, and he seemed to know all about the best things to eat and drink.


    "He is a hatchling," his father rumbled. "Let him have his fun. He will be grown soon enough, and then he will have duties of his own to attend to."


    "Even so," his mother insisted. "He has a mind for magic, our Doomwing, but it will mean little if he does not study."


    "Hmph." His father loomed over him, golden eyes shining like twin suns. "You are smaller than your mother or I were at your age, Doomwing, but your mother speaks the truth. You have a talent for magic than neither of us did. Work hard. Perhaps you will get more pleasant duties because of it."


    Doomwing nodded. He had learned that it was better to just agree with his parents when they were in this sort of mood. They were always going on about their duties. He could appreciate what an honour it was to help the gods shape the world, but why couldn''t they spend more time actually enjoying what they''d built? It seemed a shame to make so many wonderful things and then never have the chance to savour them. Dion agreed, which is why the god spend so much time coming up with new foods and drinks. Many thought his efforts wasteful when there was still so much to do, but everybody needed to eat and drink, so why not make the experience more pleasant?


    His parents took to the skies, and Doomwing followed them into the air. Given his small size, he couldn''t keep up if they flew at their full speed, so they slowed their pace to allow him to fly between him. There were few things that could threaten an adult dragon, but hatchlings were far more vulnerable. He was safe as long as his parents were nearby, and he would be safe with Mother Tree and Dion. Dion might not be much of a fighter, but he was still a god, and Mother Tree was stronger than all but the very mightiest gods.


    As they flew, Doomwing gazed at the horizon. They were still far away, but he could already see Mother Tree. She was so tall that her trunk pierced through the clouds, and her branches cast shadows for dozens and dozens of miles. She was so large that even his parents could perch upon her boughs, and even the largest of dragons could not come close to matching her size. Doomwing licked his lips. Mother Tree always had the tastiest fruits for the hatchling and children who attended class. They were both a reward to encourage their best efforts and a way of keeping hunger from bothering them. Dragon hatchlings were almost always hungry, and Doomwing spent most of his time eating to fuel his rapid growth.


    As they neared the tree, they came across a multitude of other fliers. There were massive eagles as large as his parents, flocks of wyverns, and even packs of drakes although his parents turned their noses up at them. Apparently, drakes were like dragons, only far smaller and weaker. There were also sky whales and sky krakens, and strange, feathered serpents soared through the clouds. Clouds of small birds, fairies, and other creatures flitted here and there, unbothered by their presence because all knew that violence would not be tolerated within the shadows of Mother Tree. Anyone who disagreed would face her wrath.


    Once they were close enough to spot the branch where the other hatchlings and children had gathered, his parents turned and angled south to where they would be helping the gods shape a series of islands in a newly created sea. Doomwing folded his wings and dove, landing beside a dragon whose scales were a patchwork of blues, blacks, greys, and silvers.


    "You''re early today," Stormtooth chirped. She nudged him with her head. "And you''ve grown bigger too."


    Doomwing made a face. "But you''re still bigger than me even though we hatched on the same day."


    She chortled. "That''s because you''re small for your age whereas I am large." She puffed out her chest and flared her wings. The sudden gust of wind drew several scowls from a group of young elves nearby, but she simply bared her teeth in a toothy smile. "I''m also a weather dragon. Everyone knows weather dragons are the best lineage."


    He scoffed and poked her with his tail. It was still a bit stubby, but he was hoping it would grow long enough to whip things with soon. "At least wait until you''re a hail dragon before saying that."


    She rolled her green eyes. "A hail dragon? Don''t be silly. It''ll be a while until either of us has our First Awakening, and you can be sure I''ll have mine before you have yours."


    Doomwing bared his teeth. "Just you wait. I''ll be a nova dragon one day." He jabbed her lightly with his wings. He''d always been proud of them. He might be small for his age, but his wings had always been unusually large. That was why his parents had called him Doomwing.


    "A nova dragon? You''re a burst dragon now. You''d need to go through Four Awakenings to become a nova dragon, and only three dragons in the world have managed that."


    "I''ll be the fourth," Doomwing insisted. "Just you watch."


    "Yeah. Yeah." Stormtooth padded forward as Mother Tree appeared, a dryad rising up out of the branch ahead of them. Unlike other trees, Mother Tree could make plenty of dryads, and she could hear and speak through all of them. That was how she was able to run so many classes at the same time. "We''re supposed to be covering runes today, right?"


    "And that, children, is why you should learn runes." Dion sketched a bow, and Doomwing sat up straighter, as did the others. "When I used a seventh-order spell, I was trying to burn the target. When I used a greater rune of fire, the world itself commanded the target to burn. Notice how quickly the target burned and how there was basically no collateral damage. This is what a rune can do."


    "So all of us can do that?" an elf child asked eagerly. Doomwing could see the gleam in her eyes at the thought of setting things on fire, a rarity amongst elves, most of whom seemed to dislike fire when it was used for destructive purposes.


    "Yes and no. In theory, anyone of sufficient power can learn all the runes that require that level of power. However, the truth is that you will almost certainly find certain runes easier to use than others. For example, our dragon friends will almost certainly find themselves quite adept in using runes related to fire and destruction whereas our elf friends will be better with runes that govern growth, life, and nature. That doesn''t mean you won''t be able to use other runes, but you will have to work harder to learn and use them. But that''s okay," Dion said. "Different doesn''t mean bad, and the world would be boring if everyone was the same."


    Mother Tree clapped her hands together. "Now, I''m sure you''re all dying to give it a try." There were eager nods all around. "Spread out along the branch."


    Doomwing found his own spot and readied himself. What rune would they be learning first? Perhaps Dion would teach him that rune he''d used to destroy the target, or maybe one that could alter gravity. In fact, he was pretty sure his mother used a gravity rune to drag him off his little hoard when he didn''t feel like moving.


    "Since your parents would be upset if any of you blew yourselves up, we will begin with a simpler rune." Dion smiled. "The basic rune for light."


    Doomwing''s eye twitched as Dion demonstrated. A small orb of light appeared over the god''s hand before vanishing. "Now, here''s what you need to do. You have to trace the rune and move your magic alongside the pattern. It''s like this..."


    Doomwing stared down at Mother Tree. The great tree was already burning, but even the combined efforts of the remaining dragons were not enough. She was regenerating almost as quickly as they could hurt her. What they needed was an attack with overwhelming power, one that could damage her so badly that her regeneration was completely overwhelmed. He''d already tried a twelfth-order spell. It hadn''t been enough.


    Deep down inside, he''d probably known that it wouldn''t be.


    All he had left now were runes. There was a part of him that rebelled at the thought of using them against Mother Tree. She, along with Dion, had been his first teachers in runes, and she had encouraged him to continue learning, long after others had set aside their studies in favour of honing other forms of magic. And why not? Learning and using runes became exponential more difficult at higher levels. A basic rune was easy enough, but by the time someone got to greater runes, it was like trying to draw dozens of different patterns at the same time while moving their magic in dozens of different ways too. The mental strain was enough to leave even many dragons with a headache. Stormtooth, his old friend, had never mastered anything above a lesser rune, though perhaps she might have if she hadn''t died so young.


    He shook his head. Now was not the time to reminisce.


    His golden eyes flared, and he began to trace the components of an ancient rune. It was the equivalent of drawing thousands of different patterns simultaneously, all of them unique, and all of which had to fit together in exactly the right way and in exactly the right order. The failure of even a single component would result in the ancient rune as a whole failing, which would most likely lead to his brains leaking out of his skull. At the same time, his magic flowed outward, empowering the countless patterns in precisely the right order and with exactly the right amount of power.


    His nose began to bleed, and his eyes wept bloody tears. Below him, Mother Tree''s attention turned upward. She must have sensed the threat. She began to form her own ancient rune, but Doomwing was faster, and he''d started before she had. Even this wouldn''t be enough to kill her, but it would hurt her enough that the others could actually deal lasting damage to her. She reached out to him, her melodic voice pleading for his understanding, for his kindness, for his mercy.


    He hardened his heart.


    The ancient rune completed.


    And the world erupted.


    A coruscating beam of raw heat and force lanced down from the summit of the heavens like the spear of one of the long-dead gods of the First Age. It was light beyond blinding, fire beyond burning. Everything it hit, it annihilated. The clouds boiled away. The air burned and blasted outward. And the soil was instantly melted into glass before disintegrating. Only Mother Tree withstood the blast, her great branches sheltering her, her stout trunk standing firm... but only for a few moments.


    Before the power of the rune, even Mother Tree could not remain unscathed. Doomwing sagged, tumbling out of the air and crashing onto the ground as he devoted every scrap of power he had to fuelling the rune. The Mother Tree was determined to write her own story, but Doomwing would not let her have everything her own way. The world changed to accommodate his demands, and the beam of light intensified, a cosmic drill that could have burned through the world itself if the Mother Tree hadn''t been in its path.


    But not even his massive reserves could fuel the rune for long. The beam petered out, and Doomwing forced himself to rise. Mother Tree was still standing, but her leaves had all been burnt, and great chunks of ruined bark fell from her trunk. She was screaming, and he wished to all the gods that had died that he did not have to hear it. Choking on the words, he forced himself to speak.


    "Attack!" he boomed. "Now! Hit her with everything you have!"


    Dragon fire answered his call, and Mother Tree burned as she had never burned before.

 Chapter 6: The Princess And The Tree

    Chapter 6: The Princess And The Tree


    Doomwing stared at the princess. She was gawping at him like a fool. "You have twenty minutes to secure a flight-capable mount and pack whatever supplies you wish to bring to my territory."


    "Twenty minutes?" Antaria blurted. "But... but I need time to prepare! I have to think about what supplies to bring, which members of staff should accompany me, and..."


    Doomwing smiled and leaned forward until his massive jaws were only a few feet from her face. "You are wasting time, princess, and you won''t be needing any members of staff."Read latest chapters at novelhall.com Only


    "I... I won''t?"


    "The blood of Elerion the Valiant flows through your veins. It might have thinned over the years, but I''m hoping you''re not completely useless. I intend to train you as I trained him." Doomwing pulled his head back and chuckled. "Your ancestor was quite possibly the greatest human to ever live, and he still barely survived my training. Honestly, I think it was a combination of power, determination, and sheer, bloody-minded spite that saw him through it. The first thing he did after his initial training was complete was try to stab me. It failed, but it was good to know his spirit hadn''t broken."


    Antaria''s mouth opened and closed, and then she turned and ran from the hall, presumably to pack and find her mount. Doomwing turned his attention back to Enarion. The new king fidgeted and looked very much like he would rather be anywhere else but there. Doomwing could have simply spoken, but he wanted to know how long Enarion would last before cracking. To the man''s credit, he managed to last twenty seconds before he could no longer hold himself back.


    "Have I done something wrong, dragon emperor?"


    "No." Doomwing settled back onto his haunches. A slab of scorched masonry tumbled loose from the broken remains of the roof, and he batted it aside. "I want to know more about the financial state of this kingdom. How does it make money? Where are its taxes invested? What needs to be improved for it to make more money? You have until the princess returns, so be concise."


    Enarion took a deep breath. "It''s like this..."


    What followed was a surprisingly informative summary of the kingdom''s financial situation. Apparently, the kingdom had originally made most of its money by selling fish drawn from the lake nearby. That lake was full of magic, probably because Doomwing had used his own power to create it and had chosen to situate over several intersecting magical currents. As a result of that magic, the fish in the lake were larger, tastier, and more nutritious than could be found elsewhere. The difference wasn''t much in Doomwing''s eyes, but humans were far less powerful than dragons. Even small differences could be very important to them.


    Water from the lake had also been used to water nearby fields, and the crops there were similarly boosted by the lake''s properties. Of course, those fields had eventually been superseded by the fields under the dryad''s influence, right up until some idiot had tried to use magic they couldn''t properly control or understand to boost the crop yields even further. They''d failed, and the kingdom''s breadbasket was now a dust bowl where only weeds could survive.


    Nevertheless, the kingdom''s early kings had done a good job of defending its territory and securing important trade routes. The kingdom had access to several ports to the south, along with a number of trade routes to the west. They also made a fair bit of money transporting and then selling the extra crops that were produced in Doomwing''s territory, which would explain why the previous king had been eager to seize those villages. There were also half a dozen productive mines scattered throughout the kingdom''s territory that produced reasonable quantities of iron, copper, silver, and gold.


    However, the true source of the kingdom''s wealth lay in the wise investments that Enarion had made over the past few decades. He had used the kingdom''s treasury to invest in various merchant companies, mercenary groups, and guilds. He hadn''t always picked the right ones, but he had been diligent in doing his research. As a result, he had won more often than he''d lost, and the kingdom had made substantial quantities of money while acquiring influence that stretched beyond its borders. That had probably fuelled the previous king''s ambition too.


    Enarion''s plan was to modernise the kingdom''s financial system, turning it into a place where it was easy to own and operate a business, thereby attracting more merchants, mercenaries, and guilds. It was a strategy that Doomwing had seen several times in the past. The merchant kings of the Fourth Age had used it to become the richest people in the world, save for dragons like himself, with their extensive economic links to other countries making it almost impossible for anyone to attack them. Until millions of undead had shown up.


    Zombies didn''t much care for coin.


    "You have done well with what resources you have," Doomwing said. Enarion practically collapsed in relief. "I will watch your performance closely. If you continue to do well, I may even give you some of my funds to invest."


    "You honour me, dragon emperor!" Enarion stammered. "I will do my best."


    Good. The man seemed to understand what it meant for a dragon to entrust their gold to someone else for investment purposes.


    Antaria hurried back into the hall. "I... I''m back!" She was panting heavily. A winged unicorn trotted along beside her, and the stallion''s saddlebags were already full. "Am... am I late?"


    "No. You are roughly twenty seconds early." Doomwing''s lips curled. "And of course you have a winged unicorn."


    "What''s wrong with a winged unicorn?" Antaria asked. The stallion at her side nodded his head and flared his wings in a threat display. Doomwing rolled his eyes and matched the gesture. The sudden rush of wind would have sent them all flying if he hadn''t used his magic to hold them in place.


    "A tree?" Antaria squawked. "What! Slow down!" She urged her unicorn on. "Come on, Swiftstride, we have to go faster!" The unicorn grumbled and did his best to keep up, but Doomwing was no mere hatchling. There was nothing in the world except another primordial dragon who could match him in the air even if he had no intention of flying at full speed. "Wait!"


    "Unicorns," Doomwing muttered. "As slow in the air as they are on the ground." He gestured, and magic washed over Swiftstride. "There. That should give you the speed to keep pace and the stamina to stay in the air for the rest of the journey."


    "What kind of magic was that?" Antaria shouted as she and her unicorn fell into formation beside him.


    "Two spells of the seventh-order. I could probably have gotten away with using spells of the fifth-order, but humans can''t fly. It would be a hassle if you fell to your death before you had a chance to serve me."


    "Uh... thanks?" Antaria pressed herself against her mount, the wind rushing past threatening to pull her hair out the bun she''d tied it into. "What''s this about a tree?"


    Daphne had expected the dragon to return. Dragons were many things, but they were not oath breakers. However, she had not expected him to return with a princess.


    "Please, tell me you didn''t kidnap the princess," Daphne said.


    "Would she be riding on her own mount if I had kidnapped her? No. I merely gave her an ultimatum, and she chose to comply."


    "That''s the same thing as kidnapping!" Daphne cried. She sighed. "Never mind. How were you planning on transporting me?"


    "I could simply use my claws to dig you out of the ground and carry you."


    "Please, don''t. And please don''t forget that you''re going to be bringing my friends along with me." The various animals who relied on her to survive had all gathered in her branches. "You said you''d protect them too."


    "In that case, my magic will have to do." Doomwing lifted one claw. "Make sure that all of your friends are with you and that you have nothing else you wish to bring."


    Daphne did a quick check. Yep. All of the animals were there. Strangely enough, they seemed more eager than scared. They must have realised that the blight that had ruined the once fertile fields was slowly but surely closing in. "I''m ready."


    "Good."


    The dragon''s magic stirred, and a sphere of power surrounded her. It was large enough to completely encompass not only her tree but a decent chunk of the courtyard as well. The sphere rose up into the air, and Daphne tried to keep her expression calm as Doomwing began to fly east, the sphere floating along beside him. She managed to stay calm right up until she made the mistake of looking down. She''d never flown before, so to see how high they were and how fast they were going as the ground blurred past beneath them...


    "Ah!" Daphne screamed. "Ah!"


    "Stop screaming!" Doomwing growled. "You''re completely safe."


    And then the sphere began to spin around, twirling in circles around him and then doing loops in the sky. Somehow, despite the insane way the sphere moved, her tree remain perfectly at ease, as if they were still on the ground. Rather than comforting her, her animal friends were instead shouting encouragement and asking if the dragon could do other tricks.


    "See? You''re completely safe."


    "Ah!"


    Not far away, the princess could only wince and shake her head. "And I thought I had it bad..."

 Chapter 7: The Dragon Has A Plan

    Chapter 7: The Dragon Has A Plan


    Dawn broke as they neared the first village that Doomwing had visited. As always, his blood sang as the sun crested the horizon and began its ascent, its passage marked by rays of orange, pink, crimson, and gold. Long ago, when he had been a mere hatchling, curious but ignorant of the world and his place in it, he had asked Mother Tree how dragons were made. She had scratched his scales and stared off at a past that only a select few could remember.


    "I was there when the first dragons were brought into the world. With fire and wind the Seven Gods made them. For their scales, they drew strength from the towering peaks of the world, the lonely mountains that stand unyielding in the face of time and wind and rain and sorrow. That is why your scales are strong, why you need no shelter to protect you, and why only the mightiest of weapons can do you harm. Their teeth and claws were made in the image of the spears and swords of the Seven Gods. That is why you need no weapons. Your teeth and claws are greater than any you might be given. For their wings, they called upon the sky and the boundless horizons no one may reach. That is why the skies welcome you, why no mortal creature can catch a dragon in full flight. And for their hearts, the Seven Gods took the fire of the sun and set it within their chests. That is why no dragon need fear the cold, why no dragon knows cowardice, and why no dragon will ever kneel."


    Doomwing had been so very young then, and he had puffed out his chest and flared his wings. He had been proud to be a dragon, and he could not imagine a world where his kind did not fill the skies and soar unchallenged from horizon to horizon. And then the Broken God had come, and he had seen firsthand the day that all the might and splendour of the dragons had faltered. There had been so many of them, gleaming scales of every shade and colour, the beating of wings like a thousand storms rolling across the sky.


    Only the oldest of them had stayed aloft in the face of the Broken God''s wrath, and they had answered the laughter of the Broken God with roars of fury. They had died, all of them, those dragons who the Seven Gods had made with their own hands. But they had not died easily, and the rents in the corrupted god-metal of the Broken God''s body had never healed, endless scars torn into his divine essence by those he considered beneath him. Dragons had not felled the Broken God, but the wounds they inflicted had shown he could be hurt, and what could be hurt could be killed.


    Doomwing shook his head to clear away the memories. Now was not the time.


    "Are we going to land at that village?" Antaria asked.


    "No. But we will be landing nearby." Doomwing gestured with one claw at a place perhaps a mile and a half from the village. "There."


    "Is there any particular reason?" Antaria was looking more than a bit bleary eyed. She was clearly not used to travelling for so long at such high speeds.


    "Dryads require good soil and clean water to grow. However, to reach their full potential they require ready access to magic. That place is the intersection of several major currents of ambient magic. It is why the fields in this area are so fertile."


    Daphne stirred. She had spent the past hour or so hunched over in a ball and refusing to even look at the ground. As a dragon, Doomwing found her reaction pathetic. However, she was a tree, and trees were not accustomed to flying. In his entire life, he had only known one dryad who had loved the skies, and she had perished at the end of the Third Age. It had been a good death, glorious and proud, worthy of even the greatest of dragons, flying headlong into the very teeth of the Third Catastrophe. But it was still a death, and he still missed her and the splendid city that had once soared through the clouds.


    "So... we''ll be landing soon?" Daphne smiled weakly as one of the raccoons hopped down to pat her on the head. The raccoons had actually been far more impressive. They seemed to find flight invigorating, and Doomwing was wondering what would happen if he gifted them with relics that allowed them to fly. If nothing else, it would be amusing.


    "Yes. I will plant you once we land, and then we shall discuss my plans."


    "Does that include your plans for me?" Antaria asked.


    "Yes." Doomwing smiled toothily, and the princess quailed. "Fear not. You will not die if you can meet my expectations."


    The princess blinked. "What... what if I can''t meet your expectations?"


    "Do your people still prefer to burn dead royalty upon funeral pyres, or do they bury them in the ground now?"


    "..."


    They landed soon afterward, and Doomwing motioned for Antaria and her unicorn to move aside as he dug his claws into the earth. He tore a great clod of soil up out of the ground and brought it to his face. It was good soil, rich in nutrients and magic. He let the soil tumble back to the ground and then used his magic to carve out a suitable hole to replant Daphne''s tree.


    "You''ve done this before," Daphne murmured.


    "I helped kill Mother Tree, but I did not hate her. Many of her daughters required aid in the years that followed. Once I could be sure they had no intention of repeating her actions, I did what I could to help them." Doomwing lowered Daphne''s tree into the spot he had prepared for her. "She helped care for me when I was a hatchling. I am not so ungrateful a wretch that I would forget that debt." He raised a claw and conjured water, infusing it with magic and allowing it to rain down on Daphne''s tree and the soil around her. "How is it?"


    The dryad''s eyes were closed, and she gave a low hum of contentment. "The soil is much better here, and there is plenty of magic. That water was excellent too." Her gaze turned distant, and he could tell that she was reaching out for the currents of magic that flowed through the land, her roots eager and hungry. "The currents of magic are definitely impressive, but they seem..."


    "Messy and clogged?" Doomwing chuckled. "That is to be expected."


    Antaria walked over, and Swiftstride followed behind her. Doomwing would give the unicorn credit. He had been ready to use a spell to restore the unicorn''s stamina, but the stallion had flown though the night without complaint. Now, his breathing was only just returning to normal, and sweat shone upon his skin. The gleaming white of his horn had dulled, but it would regain its lustre with some rest.


    "Could you explain more about the currents of magic?" The princess made a face. "Um... I know what they are, but you must know more about them than me."


    "Not bad. You are at least willing to admit your own ignorance."


    "Hey!" Antaria scowled. "Please, don''t call me stupid."


    "I did not call you stupid. I called you ignorant." Doomwing snorted. "Ignorance is caused by a lack of knowledge and can be remedied by providing that knowledge. Stupidity, however, is caused by a lack of intelligence and is far more difficult to fix."


    "Oh." Antaria blinked. "Um, thanks, then... maybe?"


    "It was both a compliment and an insult." Doomwing ignored her spluttering and began his explanation. "The currents of magic that flow through the land are caused by a variety of different factors. Those are not important right now. What is important is that you can think of these currents as being similar to the arteries and veins of a body. And just like arteries and veins, they can grow clogged and dirty. When that happens, both the quantity and quality of magic that can be drawn from them is reduced. You, princess, have probably not noticed this because humans are generally unable to absorb magic from their surroundings without training. However, dryads are different. They must absorb magic from their surroundings to grow."


    "Wait... are you saying that I could absorb magic from my surroundings if I had training?" Antaria asked.


    "Well spotted. Yes, but we will get to that later. As it is, there is more than enough magic here for Daphne to grow, and she possesses sufficient skill and power to purify it to her standards. However, she will grow faster, thereby increasing my tribute more swiftly, if she has access to larger quantities of purer magic. That is why I will be returning to my volcano shortly. I will begin cleansing the currents of magic starting from my lair and then working through my territory until I reach this area. This should, if my estimations are correct, more than triple her rate of growth. It will likely take me a few weeks."


    "You can do that?" Daphne asked. "I could purify the currents around me, but my range would be limited to a few miles at most. It would also take me years."


    "Why do you think so many people have called them dragon lines throughout history? Dragons are extremely adept not only at absorbing magic from their surroundings but also at influencing the magic in their surroundings. I am a primordial dragon. My lesser kin could never hope to accomplish in centuries what I can do in weeks."


    "Oh. Thank you." Daphne bowed. "It means a lot."


    Doomwing leaned over and turned his head, so he could stare into her eyes. "I am doing a great deal for you, dryad. I expect great things in return."


    "Eep." Daphne squeaked. "I''ll do my best."


    "See that you do. I will also try to find tree-folk to act as your guardians." Doomwing grumbled. "I don''t know where any are, but I can probably ask Marcus... he probably knows. And if not, I can use the mirror. It''ll be a hassle, but I should be able to find some... never mind." He straightened. "In the meantime, I will ensure that you are properly defended."


    He tossed a dozen greater runes of protection at Daphne.


    "There. There is now absolutely nothing in my territory other than me that can harm you. And if anything strong enough comes, I should be able to sense it and respond in time."


    "You just used a dozen greater runes..." Daphne swallowed thickly. "It was a struggle for me to maintain two to keep the blight away and keep my animal friends fed."


    "I would have used ancient runes, but as you are now, being in their presence for extended periods of time would have done permanent damage to you." Doomwing turned his attention to Antaria. "And as for you..."


    "As for me?" The princess fidgeted. She was so worried about him that she barely seemed to notice the enterprising squirrel that had climbed onto her and was rummaging through her pockets in search of food. Almost without thinking, she reached down and pulled the squirrel away before tossing the rodent back to Daphne who was splitting her attention between basking in her improved living conditions and worrying at his expectations.


    "Circulating your magic in this manner serves several purposes. The most immediate purpose is that it quickens healing while promoting growth and development. This will allow you to handle training that would kill normal people."


    "What... what if I hadn''t been able to do it?" Antaria asked although she had a sneaking suspicion of what he would say.


    "It is fortunate that you were able to learn it so quickly." Doomwing''s construct paced around her in a slow circle. "The second reason is going to become apparent right about... now."


    Antaria gasped and then paled as a wave of exhaustion swept over her. She was suddenly cold, and her limbs began to tremble. "What''s happening?"


    "Magical exhaustion. When you circulate your magic like this, it is consumed to heal your injuries, improve your body, and so on. Because your reserves of magic are so small, it''s hardly surprising that you''ve already exhausted them." The construct shrugged. "Of course, magical exhaustion of this level is several times worse than regular magical exhaustion, so you will likely fall into a coma or die in the next ten minutes."


    "What?" Antaria shrieked. "Magical exhaustion isn''t supposed to do that!"


    "Magical exhaustion caused by spell usage usually occurs before your reserves can truly run dry. Circulating your magic allows you to completely empty them if you''re not careful."


    "Why... why didn''t you warn me?" Antaria was seeing double now, and she was vaguely aware of several squirrels exchanging nuts.


    "Because Elerion always learnt best when he was on the verge of death, and I want to see if you are the same." Doomwing chortled. "And because when your reserves are almost completely empty, it becomes easier for you to feel and absorb the magic around you."


    "What?"


    "Humans do not naturally absorb significant quantities of magic from their surroundings. It''s just how you are. But they can learn to do that. What you need to do is to reach out with your senses. Focus on feeling the magic around you. You''re probably feeling cold right now. Ambient magic will feel warm. You need to focus on that warmth. Imagine it flowing into you. Think of sitting in front of a camp fire and warming your hands. Imagine that heat and energy filling you like water emptying from a jug into your cup."


    Antaria tried to do what he said. She really did. But she couldn''t feel anything except the cold. She was shivering now, and she was certain her lips were blue. A few of the raccoons looked like they wanted to help her, but the construct stretched one wing out to bar their path.


    "Do not interfere," Doomwing said. "And do not say a word, Daphne. I have told her enough. If she cannot grasp it now, then she may never be able to do so. This is not something to be thought about and intellectualised. It is to be experience and felt."


    Antaria fell onto her back. The edges of her vision began to darken. She tried to get up, but her limbs refused to obey. She felt heavy and light at the same time. Was she dying?


    "Open your mind," Doomwing''s voice seemed to come from far away. "Stop trying to see the world with your pitiful human eyes. Magic does not come from flesh and bone. It comes from the soul, and it is with your soul that you must feel the world around you."


    Her soul? Antaria became aware of something inside herself, a small, flickering, faltering light. It was like a candle in the long and hungry dark, but it was her candle, her light. Her eyes were closed, but she saw it clearly. And then, as the darkness closed in on her, she saw more candles in the dark. One by one they appeared, so faint she was only sure they existed because of the absolute darkness that surrounded them. But then she saw another light, brighter, not a candle but a campfire. Were these souls? Who did they belong to? What was... her attention went north, and there she saw a star, blinding and bright.


    And then, from the darkness, came rivers of light and flame, currents of power born of the land and all the things above, below, and within it. Several of those rivers intersected beneath her, and a shimmering mist of magic rose up. She reached for it desperately, greedily, clawing at it with frantic hands and trying to inhale it with deep breaths.


    So much of it escaped her. So much of it simply passed through her. But she caught some of it, and it flowed into her, rushing through her body in burning rivers of power that turned her veins to fire and threatened to set her soul ablaze.


    "Circulate it through your body," Doomwing growled. "You must circulate it through your body to purify it before absorbing it into your reserves. Otherwise, you will injure yourself."


    "It hurts..." Antaria said. "It burns."


    "You can hurt and burn, or you can embrace the cold of death. Those are your choices."


    So Antaria burned, and she circulated the magic she''d pulled from her surroundings through her body as best she could. Gradually, ever so gradually, it changed, and after a while, it settled deep inside her, flowing into the pool of power she recognised as the source of her magic. The pool was all but empty, but it filled rapidly until she felt a stretching sensation, like a muscle being pulled taut.


    "Enough," Doomwing said. "Stop absorbing magic. Now."


    Antaria cut off her connection to the magic around her. If anything, it was easier to cut it off than to absorb it. Then she opened her eyes. Daphne was wringing her hands nearby, a healing spell flickering in and out of existence. Doomwing''s construct simply stared down at her.


    "Acceptable," he said.


    Antaria made a choking sound and did the first thing that came to mind. She kicked the construct in the side with all the strength that could muster.


    "Ah!" Antaria wailed. "My leg."


    "Congratulations," Doomwing drawled. "You broke your leg. Let this be a lesson to you. Always determine the durability of your foe before kicking them." The construct took a step back, and healing magic washed over the broken limb. "In recognition of your efforts, I will heal your injury instead of making you fix it yourself."


    "How kind," Antaria said.


    "I am known as a generous soul," Doomwing replied. "Now, tell me, do you sense any changes in the size of your magical reserves?"


    Antaria peered back inside herself and gasped. "They''re... they''re bigger!"


    "Yes. This is the other reason that you must learn how to circulate magic and how to absorb it from your surroundings. Humans can produce magic naturally. This magic exerts a sort of ''pressure'' on their reserves, expanding them over time. However, humans actually have reserves that are quite flexible. Pressure that would cause an elf''s magical reserves to explode and kill them will not kill a human. Instead, a human''s reserves will grow in response to that pressure."


    "But then... how do elves have so much more magic than humans?" Antaria asked.


    "Elves live far longer than humans, so even if their reserves grow more slowly, they can eventually grow much larger. Humans can, with the right training, increase their reserves quite rapidly in comparison to other species although, by the time they reach their peak, they will generally have smaller reserves than the strongest elves. But there are exceptions. Elerion''s reserves of magic were enormous even by elven standards, which allowed him to do things with his magic and runes that other humans could only have dreamed of."


    "Then all of this training..."


    "We will grow your reserves of magic. That in turn will allow us to push your physical training to inhuman levels while also allowing you to perform increasingly powerful magic." Doomwing gave rumble of amusement. "It will, of course, be agonising, and the pain you have experienced today will be nothing compared to the agony you will feel while learning more advanced techniques." He paused. "Knowing that, do you wish to quit? This is your one and only chance."


    Antaria got to her feet and then raised her foot to kick the construct again before thinking better off it. Instead, she waved her hand at Daphne, and the dryad handed her a tree branch. Taking the branch she brought it down on the construct with all the strength she could muster.


    "What makes you think I''m going to quit!"


    Doomwing bit back a smile as he continued his journey northward back to his volcano. Antaria was doing her best to pummel his construct with a tree branch and her newly enhanced strength and was accomplishing absolutely nothing.


    Even so, he wasn''t disappointed.


    She was actually doing slightly better than Elerion. The boy - and he had been a boy at the time - had kicked him again when Doomwing had asked that question, and all he''d done was break his leg for the third time in a single afternoon. The look in Antaria''s eyes right now was exactly the same as the one that had been in Elerion''s. It hadn''t been about learning or honour or anything like that. No. They had both wanted to keep going just so they could spite him.


    Perfect.

 Chapter 8: The Dragon Dreams

    Chapter 8: The Dragon Dreams


    Doomwing had never been especially gifted in the art of dream walking. Personal interest and then necessity had pushed him toward more practical applications. However, the Sixth Age had revived his interest in the field, if only so he could protect himself from the Sixth Catastrophe. Even so, he had only ever become adept enough to defend himself. He had never, even for a moment, considered confronting Kagami in the ever-shifting and turbulent realm that reflected both their dreams and the collective dreams of everyone else with a soul. He was powerful, yes, and perhaps a little arrogant as befitted a primordial dragon, but he was not stupid or suicidal.


    For all his might, in that realm, Kagami would have bested him, and that was before she had become the Sixth Catastrophe. After her... ascension, she would have slaughtered him with the same ease he would have shown in slaying some uppity drake. Even Marcus, so much more adept in battles of the mind and memory, had been forced to admit that all he could have done against her was stall for time. Knowing that he could never win a confrontation of that kind, Doomwing had focused his efforts on defence. His crowning achievement was discovering an ancient rune that could drag both him and his opponent out of the dreaming lands and back into the physical world. That rune had saved his life in the final battle and had allowed them to triumph although they had all paid heavily for the victory.Read latest chapters at novelhall.com Only


    Now, however, he had a use for dream walking. Antaria had proven she wasn''t completely hopeless, so he wished to see how far he could push her. She had the right temperament for physical and magical training, so it was now a question of honing her mind. The issue was the number of hours in the day. Until she became more adept at absorbing magic from her surroundings and circulating it through her body, she would require the same amount of sleep as a regular person. Unfortunately, the time she spent sleeping could not be used for anything else.


    That simply wouldn''t do.


    If he could learn how to dream walk properly, he would be able to instruct her while she slept. Time did not flow at the same speed in the world of dreams, so he could cram an entire''s day''s worth of learning into her head while only occupying perhaps an hour or two of her sleeping time in the physical world. She would still be able to get enough rest, and he would be able to see if she was capable of learning anything apart from how to stab people or blast them with magic.


    The issue was actually learning how to dream walk. There were people he could seek out. One of his fellow primordial dragons, Dreamsong, was a muse dragon. She could weave illusions so convincing that they could take on solid form and substance, making real the things she imagined, if only for a moment. She could also enter the dreams of others and bend the very fabric of the dreaming lands to her will. Unfortunately, they were no longer on speaking terms.


    Kagami might have betrayed her and used her teachings to become the Sixth Catastrophe, but Dreamsong had still loved her like a daughter. Even after witnessing the atrocities Kagami had committed, Dreamsong had never been able to raise a hand against her, and she had never forgiven Doomwing for killing her. Oh, Dreamsong understood on an intellectual level that Doomwing had done the right thing, but the heart was not bound by logic, and Dreamsong''s heart had always been softer than her scales.


    After the disaster of the Fifth Catastrophe, many of the beast people of the world had scattered and hidden themselves from the vengeful wrath of those they had wronged. The kitsune had been all but wiped out and had only found safety by hiding in a land halfway between the physical world and the dreaming lands. There, they had met Dreamsong, and she had taken them under her wing. Kagami had been her most favoured student, and Dreamsong had been so pleased to see the relationship between Elerion and Kagami blossom into more than friendship. Elerion had no longer been a young man then, but what did age matter to Kagami when kitsune could live for millennia if they were powerful enough?


    And Kagami had been strong, far stronger than any kitsune Doomwing had met before or since.


    Of course, things had fallen apart in the end. Kagami had fallen prey to her own worst fears and had become the very monster that her people had so often been accused of being. And Dreamsong had retreated back into the dreaming lands with what remained of the kitsune, her attention focused solely on the child that Kagami had left behind, the kitsune girl who was also Elerion''s last child.


    What a mess.


    But before Kagami had gone mad, she had given Doomwing a gift. After all, they had been friends. It was a spell book, one that contained a number of powerful spells related to dream walking. He had accepted it happily back then but had never had the time to learn its contents. After she had become the Sixth Catastrophe, he had been wary of opening the book, lest the contents turn out to be a trap. However, with Kagami long dead and his injuries mostly healed, he was confident that he could open the book without putting himself in danger. If it turned out to be a trap, he would simply destroy the thing. If, however, it turned out to be a genuine gift, the spells within would solve his problems.


    Landing on the shores of the lake where he liked to nap, Doomwing called the book to him. It was a small thing, sized for a person instead of a dragon, but his powers were more than up to the task of handling it. A minute burst of power unlocked the seal that held it shut, and he readied ancient runes for protection, destruction, and returning himself to the physical world. He did not fully commit to them - even he could not use three ancient runes of this calibre lightly - but their partially completed forms would allow him to act in an instant if the book turned out to be dangerous.


    "Do you want any help?" Daphne asked. The dryad looked down at Antaria, a raccoon clinging onto her back like a monkey.


    "Don''t." Antaria continued to crawl toward her house. "If you help me, he''ll only add extra tasks to my training to make up for it."


    "If you''re sure." Daphne tilted her head to the side. "But if you want, I can start the lesson now while you''re still crawling back."


    "That would be fine, thanks."


    That night, Antaria crawled into bed. She missed the baths she got to take in the palace, baths with hot water, maids to attend her, and all the cosmetic luxuries she could dream of. Her current bath consisted of taking a dip in a nearby stream after putting up several third-order spells to warn her about intruders and observers. She had neglected to put those up on the first night, and Doomwing had responded by herding several huge wild boars toward her. She''d been utterly exhausted at the time, but she''d still managed to kill them, albeit she''d been forced to drown the last one since she''d lost her sword at some point in the fight, and her knuckles had hurt from punching one of them to death. Oh well. The boar meat had tasted decent enough.


    Circulating her magic and absorbing magic from her surroundings as she''d been taught, Antaria felt herself slip into an almost meditative trance. She was still better at circulating magic and absorbing magic when she wasn''t doing anything else but having to fight random monsters on a daily basis was rapidly improving her ability to do both under pressure. Sighing, she let sleep claim her.


    A dream of green fields and blue skies awaited her, a place free from dragons who confused attempted murder for teaching, a place with hot springs, comfortable beds, and food prepared by professional chefs instead of charred over a campfire while the aforementioned dragon tried to remember recipes from centuries ago.


    "Get up."


    She blinked. Why was Doomwing''s construct in her dream. "No."


    The construct padded over and then yanked her up onto her feet. To her horror a chair appeared beneath her, and the rolling fields and open skies gave way to a large library.


    "You spend too much of your time sleeping and slacking off. From now on, you will spend at least some of that time learning."


    A book appeared on the table in front of her and words began to appear in the air behind Doomwing.


    "Today, we will be discussing logistics and why it matters. I will not have some fool ruling in my name. Elerion was a farmer''s son, and he still managed to learn enough to be a great king. You are a princess. Assuming your education hasn''t been completely awful, I expect you to do better."


    Antaria stifled the urge to scream.

 Chapter 9: The Princess Is Rewarded

    Chapter 9: The Princess Is Rewarded


    Antaria flopped onto her back and stared up at the sky. She''d grown quite accustomed to this over the past few weeks. Each day had bled into the next, an endless cycle of training until she collapsed from exhaustion followed by learning in her dreams at night. Rather than continue to more advanced techniques, Doomwing had insisted on ruthlessly honing her ability to absorb magic from her surroundings and then circulate it through her body.


    It was not enough that she could perform those techniques while meditating. No. He would not be satisfied until performing those techniques was as easy and instinctive as breathing. He''d even gone so far as to smuggle multiple monsters into her house at night while she was sleeping to test if she had remembered to put up defensive and security magic and to see if she could perform those techniques when she''d just woken up and while being attacked by the aforementioned monsters.


    She had hurled the severed head of one of those monsters - some kind of giant rat thing with glowing fangs - at his construct with all the strength she could muster. To her disgust, he''d disintegrated it with a single spell before admonishing her on her technique. If she was going to throw the severed head of a giant rat at him with the intent to kill, then there was a proper way to do that... a proper way that Elerion had apparently devised centuries ago because, of course, he had.


    Part of her was really beginning to dislike her ancient ancestor. That man seemed to have been good at just about everything. At the same time, however, Antaria felt a certain sense of kinship with him that went beyond whatever distant blood ties they shared. Just like her, he had been subjected to the murderous farce that Doomwing liked to call training, and just like her his attempts to get back at the dragon had failed miserably. If only Doomwing would share more of what Elerion had tried. At least that way she''d know what not to do when trying to get back at him.


    "Your performance has been acceptable," Doomwing said as his construct stopped beside her. "As a reward for your hard work, I will be teaching you a basic rune."


    Antaria sat up quickly. "You will?" she asked excitedly before realising that this had to be some kind of trap. "What''s the catch? Am I going to explode if I get it wrong?"


    "No." Doomwing''s construct smiled thinly. "But you may experience severe brain damage if you fail to learn it."


    "..." Antaria took a deep, deep breath. "I just knew it was going to be something like that. Okay. Fine. What rune are you going to teach me?"


    "It is one of the basic runes for strength." Doomwing motioned for her to stand, and she hurried to her feet. She had learned the hard way that dawdling would only see her workload increased even further. "It is the first basic rune that I will be teaching you and arguably the most important."


    "Why is that?" Antaria asked.


    "The three types of basic runes that are most commonly used in battle are runes associated with strength, speed, and endurance. However, the rune for strength is almost always learned first. Why do you think that is?"


    Antaria pursed her lips. "Because being stronger is useful in combat." Doomwing''s construct gave her a stare so flat it would have levelled a mountain. "Hey! It''s not like I know a lot about runes!"


    "What you need to understand is that runes are not like the pathetic magic you have learned so far. Normal magic exerts your will upon the world. The bigger the change, the more power it will require. Moreover, the world is naturally resistant to exterior change. The more you try to change things, the more the world will resist. That is why permanently changing your body with a regular spell is pretty much impossible. When you use a normal spell to strengthen yourself, you are using your power to increase your strength. When you use a rune to increase your strength, then you become stronger, at least for a while."


    "Isn''t that the same thing?" Antaria asked.


    "No." Doomwing''s construct shook its head. "Your power is limited and weak, so your ability to enhance your strength is likewise limited and weak. Moreover, regular spells that enhance your strength will seldom last long and will take a terrible toll on your body if overused. A basic rune for strength will be far more effective, will last far longer, and will not ruin your body from repeated usage, provided you are using the right rune and can form it correctly."


    Antaria''s eyes narrowed. "That sound like all upside."


    "Only if you can do it right. If you do it wrong, you will either give yourself brain damage or suffer a number of other consequences, all of which are highly unpleasant. A rune asks the world to do something, and the world itself will make the changes you desire. This means runes are both incredibly powerful and also capable of tremendous self-injury if not used or formed properly. The reason you should learn a basic rune for strength first is because knowing it will not only increase your strength in multiple ways but will also provide with some level of protection should you make a mistake with other basic runes."


    "That makes sense." Antaria nodded. "So... how do I learn this rune?"


    "Watch." The construct took a step away from her, and then a symbol formed in the air in front of it.


    Antaria squinted at the symbol in a bid to get a proper look at it. However, it was hazy and indistinct, almost like looking at a cloud of steam and -


    "Get up."


    Antaria realised she was on her back again. She opened her eyes and then reached up to touch her face. There was blood on her face.


    "You are bleeding from your eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. However, none of your injuries are fatal, and you do not appear to have brain damage. I will draw the rune again. Watch closely and try not to pass out again."


    She staggered back to her feet and fought the urge to empty her stomach. Oh, wait, she''d already done that earlier today during training. "Okay. I''ll get it this time."


    The construct drew the rune out again and... and this time she saw it. It was blurry at first, but the longer she stared at it, the clearer it became. It was... difficult to describe, a pattern that defied everything she knew about geometry logic, yet it was right there, as clear to her now as the sun in the sky. Her eyes began to sting, but she forced herself to keep looking until the image of the rune was burned into her mind.


    "I... I think I''ve got it," she said.


    "Good." Doomwing''s voice carried a faint hint of approval. "Not bad. You only passed out once, and none of your injuries were serious enough to require healing magic. Now, draw the rune using your soul."


    "..." Antaria''s jaw dropped. "Draw it with my soul? What does that even mean?"


    "Ah. Right." Doomwing''s construct shrugged. "Only someone with a soul can use runes, and the runes must be drawn with the soul. Yes, most people will make gestures while drawing it, but with sufficient practice, those gestures are not required. Think of your soul as a hand holding a paintbrush and your magic as the paint."


    "I''m not sure that helps." Antaria could feel a headache coming on. She sincerely hoped it wasn''t due to brain damage. "Look... just... how do I use my soul to do stuff?"


    "You must have noticed that your body naturally produces magic within you. It most likely appears as something similar to a flame growing within your body even when you aren''t absorbing magic from outside sources. The source of that flame is your soul. Imagine your soul twisting that flame into the shape of the rune and then trace that shape into the air."


    "But that shape doesn''t make sense," Antaria replied. "It''s..." She didn''t have the words for it. It was as if space itself couldn''t fit the rune, yet there it was.


    "Just do it," Doomwing insisted. "And you will understand."


    Antaria''s jaw clenched. That was easy for him to say. But fine. She could do it!


    Or not.


    Seven times she tried to make the rune according to his instructions, and seven times she failed. But on her eighth attempt, she succeeded. Eyes wide, she stared in confused fascination at the shape shimmering in the air in front of her.


    "Wait!" Daphne cringed and backed away. "I''ve been working hard just like you told me!"


    "I am not in your dreams to punish you," Doomwing replied. A book appeared in front of her. "I have almost completed my purification and expansion of the currents of magic that flow through my territory. However, it occurred to me that since you now serve me, there is no reason why more exotic plants cannot be grown in my lands." He nodded at the book. "Look through that book and tell me which ones you think will be able to grow in my territory with your aid."


    Daphne opened the book. It was a botanical treatise that detailed a great many different plants. Some she was familiar with, but others she had only ever seen in the fleeting, disorganised memories she had received from Mother Tree. And there were even others she''d never heard of before, but the book provided detailed descriptions of not only their appearance but also their abilities and what conditions were best for them.


    Quite a few of the plants had magical properties, but others were simply exotic crops that did not normally grow in this part of the world. A greedy voice inside her clamoured at the thought of being able to nurture these plants with her power. To see them grow in endless fields all around her or perhaps in guarded groves... what self-respecting dryad wouldn''t want that?


    "How many of them can you get?" Daphne asked.


    "I will be leaving soon to acquire tree-folk to serve and protect you. While I am out, I will acquire whatever plants can be obtained without too much effort."


    "And by too much effort, do you mean too much effort for a normal person... or too much effort for you?" Daphne asked.


    "For me." Doomwing smiled toothily. "Many of these plants are the pride of the elves. They''re always boasting about how only they can grow them, but that''s a lie. The only reason they have access to them is because they built their societies around dryads. Now, I have a dryad, and I want to shut them up."


    "That''s a little, you know, petty."


    "Yes, it is." Doomwing leaned forward. "But tell me, Daphne, don''t you want to have those plants too? Don''t you want to be the envy of all your fellow dryads? I''m sure you thought about it while you were trapped in that blighted land with nothing more than memories of better times to sustain you. You might be young for a dryad, but you have the strength of a primordial dragon to support you. Isn''t it time you became a little greedier?"


    Daphne glanced from Doomwing to the book. The plants inside were very tempting, and she had often despaired about how she must have compared to her older sisters and the other dryads. More than once, a bird had arrived from a distant land bearing stories of another dryad. Every single time, Daphne had felt small and pathetic compared to those dryads. No more. She''d get all of these plants, and the next time a bird arrived, it would leave carrying stories about her that would make the other dryads envious!


    "Get as many as you can," Daphne said at last. "I''ll find a way to make it work."


    "I was hoping you''d say that."


    William had been the headman of the village for more than fifty years. Most of those years had been wonderfully boring, but not this year. No. This year had seen the village attacked by soldiers and much of their crops and livestock destroyed. But they had been avenged. The dragon himself had awakened and laid waste to their foes.


    It had been a few months now since he had flown west and then returned. He had brought with him a large tree, and he had planted it roughly a mile and a half from the village. Naturally, William and the others had been curious about the tree, but the dragon had forbidden them approaching it. The message had been delivered by a dragon-shaped construct of some kind, but the voice coming from the construct had undoubtedly belonged to the dragon himself.


    Today, though, the dragon had bid them to approach the tree. William had asked for a dozen of the village''s stoutest young men to accompany him, and they had set off for the tree, uncertain of what they would find. The great dragon was not there. He had departed not long ago and had yet to return.


    They reached the tree and found themselves greeted by a young woman.


    Her clothes were worn and faded, and the sword she carried was battered and dented. There were even smudges of dirt on her face and dried blood in her hair. But she was somehow the single most magnificent person that William had ever laid eyes on.


    She had raven black hair and violet eyes, and her features were somewhere between beautiful and ferocious. But it was her presence that caught his attention, that made him want to fall to his knees and press his forehead to the dirt.


    Power.


    That was what this woman radiated. Her gaze drifted over him and the dozen young men he''d brought along, and she instantly dismissed them as threats. In her eyes, they were as dangerous as ants crawling along the ground. Was it arrogance? No. His instincts were screaming at him that her confidence was well earned that if she wanted, she could kill every single one of them with the same amount of effort it would have taken him to squash a bug. He had been scared when the soldiers had attacked the village, but he knew - he just knew - that if this woman ever drew a weapon on him, he would be absolutely terrified.


    "I... I am here, just like the mighty dragon asked."


    The woman sighed. "I''m guessing Doomwing didn''t tell you anything else then?"


    She was on a first name basis with the dragon? What... what sort of person was she to use his name so casually.


    "Pardon, my lady," he said cautiously. "But... who are you?"


    "Me?" The woman''s lips twitched. "My name is Antaria. I am his... student."


    The dragon had a student? No wonder she was so powerful. He would only have taken the most promising and mighty individuals as students.


    "Doomwing is currently occupied," Antaria said. "However, he ordered me to take control of the villages in his territory."


    "He did?"


    "Yes." Antaria scowled. "His exact words were: I had better see improvements when I get back. You know what to do, so do it." She drove her heel into the ground, and it cracked beneath her. "I am told that you have something of a monster problem."


    William nodded. "Yes. I am no great wizard, but I can sense the flow of magic in my surroundings. There is more magic around us now than ever before. It has made the monsters bolder and stronger. It will be hard to plant more crops while they are around, and I do not know if we''ll even have the time to plant and harvest another set of crops before winter comes..."


    "Daphne," Antaria said.


    Another woman emerged from the tree. That is, she came out of the tree itself. She must be a dryad or some other kind of tree spirit. William had heard stories about them although he''d never met one. "I can handle it," Daphne said.


    "Daphne is a dryad. With her aid, you will be able to get your crops ready in time."


    "And the monsters?" William asked.


    Antaria bared her teeth. It reminded William very much of how a dragon might smile. "Leave them to me."

 Chapter 10: The Dragon Is Impressed

    Chapter 10: The Dragon Is Impressed


    The giant serpent slithered toward the village. The paltry walls of the human settlement would do little to keep him out. He would smash right through them and then gorge on the humans within. The ruins would become his new home, and he would bask in the rich currents of magic that flowed through the area. He would grow stronger and surpass the limitations of his present form. He was so close that he could almost taste it. And once he ascended, only the dragon would be strong enough to stop him. But the dragon never stayed awake for long. Soon, the dragon would slumber once more, and the serpent would be free to continue growing. Perhaps one day, he might even have the strength to challenge the dragon. Yes. That was a pleasing thought. He would tear the dragon''s heart from his chest and swallow it whole.


    Behind him, the lesser monsters waited for him to make his move. All of them were weak, but their numbers made them useful. In exchange for not devouring them, they served him. They would wait outside the village and catch any of the humans who tried to flee. And if they failed and allowed some of the humans to escape? The serpent had no need for useless servants. He would eat the failures as a warning to the others.


    Hissing sharply, the snake ordered them to get into position before rushing toward the village. He struck the wooden wall and went right through it. Eyes gleaming with malevolent joy, he was about to break open the closest house to feast on the occupants when his instincts screamed at him to dodge. For a split-second, he considered ignoring them. What could possibly threaten him now that the dragon was gone? But those same instincts had allowed him to rise above the other monsters. It would be foolish to ignore them now.


    He dodged.


    And the ground where his body had been exploded.


    The serpent drew back, his body coiled and ready to burst into motion as deadly venom dripped from his foot-long fangs. As the dust cleared, a human stood up. She had black hair and violet eyes, and the moonlight revealed a scowl upon her face.


    "Damn it. I was hoping to kill you with that attack." Her gaze drifted to the ruined section of wall. "That is going to be a hassle to fix. I''ll have to apologise to the headman for not killing you before you could break it."


    The serpent glared. Kill him? Was this foolish human insane? He had faced humans before. None had wounded him in decades. His scales were thick, his coils were strong, and his venom could kill within seconds. And yet... the serpent felt the first stirrings of unease. He reached out with his senses, expecting to feel the usual pathetic reserves of magic that he''d come to expect from humans. Even the strongest of his previous foes had possessed only a fraction of his power.


    This human was different.


    She had more magic than any human he had faced in the past. However, she still had less magic than him. He gave a low hum of amusement. This human must have grown quite conceited. Yes. She was stronger than other humans, so she must think that she could beat him. How foolish. How naive. How absurd. He would kill her and then devour her, and her strength would become his strength. A fitting end for such a fool.


    The serpent readied himself to strike. He used a trio of fifth-order spells to enhance his speed, strength, and agility. He had not lived so long by being careless. He would crush this woman in a single blow!


    "Are you going to stand there all night, or are we going to fight?" The woman made a disgusted sound. "I really thought you''d come sooner. I''m missing sleep right now. Hurry up and attack, so I can kill you." She made a face. "Does snake even taste nice? I should ask the villagers about it. Oh, I hope one of them is a chef. If I have to eat another charred monster..."


    The serpent could tolerate her insults no longer. The only person who would be eaten would be her!


    With one final hiss, the serpent lunged. His form was perfect. His speed was unmatched. The woman died before she could even realise what had happened.


    Or so it should have been.


    Instead, the woman looked right at him, violet eyes gleaming in the darkness, and then she smiled. Something swirled into existence around her, a power the serpent couldn''t quite see or understand, and then she vanished. The serpent missed, and he turned to find her only to realise that she was standing on top of his head.


    "I really don''t want to break my sword, so this will have to do." The woman raised a fist-sized rock over her head. That strange, inexplicable power swirled into existence around the rock, and then she brought it down.


    BOOM.


    Antaria bit back a curse.


    The monsters refused to answer. Instead, they looked away, cowed at the mere mention of Doomwing.


    "Good. That means you aren''t stupid." Antaria put her hands on her hips. "But you don''t have to worry about him. You are beneath his notice. However, he is my teacher, and he has ordered me to improve these lands. I have no intention of disappointing him. Those who obey and aid me have no reason to fear, but those who choose to oppose me will die." She spread her arms. "Choose. Will you obey, or will you die?"


    The monsters looked at each other, and then one of them charged toward her. It was a tiger the size of a house. Magic gathered around it, a pair of fifth-order enhancement spells turning it into the equivalent of a living avalanche. Antaria had grown adept enough at absorbing and circulating magic from her surroundings that she could have killed it in hand-to-hand combat without using a rune. But she didn''t want to kill it. She wanted to massacre it, so the next time any of the monsters thought of rebelling, they''d remember what happened and decide it was better not to test her patience.


    She wove a pair of runes around her rock and then threw it as the tiger sprang toward her.


    The tiger hit the ground and rolled to a stop in front of her. There was a hole in its skull, along with a much larger one from where the rock had burst out of its body. Antaria smiled and then scowled as she realised that she now had no idea where her rock was. Damn it.


    "He chose to die." Antaria knelt down and then picked up another rock. It wasn''t quite as large as her original rock, but there was a decent weight to it, and the way the monsters flinched away when she stood and brandished it at them was oddly gratifying. "Does anyone else want to die, or will you obey?"


    Doomwing watched through his construct as Antaria led the now obedient monsters toward the village. They trailed after her like ducklings, too afraid to do anything more than obey. The headman, William, stared at the procession in disbelief, and the expression on his face only grew more amusing as she explained what she had done.


    Doomwing was pleased. No. More than that. He was impressed.


    He had expected Antaria to kill the giant serpent without much difficulty although allowing the wall to be damaged had been a miscalculation on her part. She''d also been clever enough to use another weapon instead of her battered sword. Although she could have used a rune to reinforce her sword, the weapon was already in such poor condition that it was only a matter of time before it broke. He''d have to get her a better one, albeit not one so good that she came to rely on it instead of her own abilities. Hmm... perhaps he could teach her a basic rune for restoration. It was the very first healing-oriented rune that Elerion had ever learned, and it worked on inanimate objects too.


    He had expected Antaria to kill the rest of the monsters. It was what Elerion had done when put in a similar situation. He had seen the threat they posed, and he had eliminated them without hesitation. It had been an impressive showing of strength and decisiveness. However, Antaria needed a work force, and the monsters were far stronger than the villagers or their livestock. Even the weakest of the monsters could pull loads that would normally require a team of oxen. Moreover, some of the monsters could fly whilst others could burrow beneath the ground. All of them had potential uses.


    A normal human would have looked at the monsters and decided that it was too dangerous to keep them around. But Antaria was no longer a normal human. She understood, in some visceral way, that the monsters didn''t care who led them so long as their leader was the strongest and was able to provide what they needed.


    The monsters would work. In exchange, they would receive food and shelter. If they were threatened, then Antaria would kill their enemies. It was a simple way of viewing the world, but it had worked for them so far, and Antaria had proven she had the strength to lead by slaughtering the giant serpent and then the giant tiger. Of course, her mount, Swiftstride had decided to show himself, and the winged unicorn was now throwing his weight around in a bid to make it clear that he was next in the pecking order after Antaria. However, Doomwing could already see several of the monsters eyeing the unicorn speculatively. None of them were stupid enough to think they could beat Antaria, but the unicorn was not nearly as scary. It might be possible for them to snatch his position.


    Hmm... Antaria would have to make clear what sort of competition she would allow, which should be interesting.


    Satisfied that Antaria had the matter well in hand, he shifted his attention back to his current location.


    He had flown south after leaving his territory, and his destination was already visible on the horizon. When Mother Tree had chosen her path, her daughters had followed in her footsteps. They had shared her fate. Only the seeds she had released just before her death had been spared. They had not committed any crimes, so Doomwing and the others had been reluctant to exterminate them, not least because doing so would condemn what remained of the elves to death.


    In the end, they had settled for watching the newly sprouted Daughter Trees to see if any of them wished to follow Mother Tree''s path. A few had, and they had been dealt with. However, the majority had chosen to be more reasonable, either because they genuinely disagreed with Mother Tree''s actions or because they were smart enough to realise that emulating her was a death sentence. The oldest and mightiest of those Daughter Trees was the dryad who had adopted the name Anthracia.


    Unlike most of the other Daughter Trees that closely resembled Mother Tree, Anthracia was different. Her leaves were as burning embers in appearance, and her bark was the black of scorched wood and the grey of ash. She was a living reminder of Mother Tree''s fate, both as a warning to her sisters and an admonishment to those who had slain her mother. And she was strong. She had grown taller and stronger than any of the others, and the elves who had sworn themselves to her were the greatest of their kind that still remained in the world.


    Doomwing was not small. He was roughly a mile long, yet compared to Anthracia, he was tiny.


    Staring at the towering tree rising high above the dense forest that spanned the horizon, Doomwing smiled. She was a little over four miles tall, and already he could feel her power stir at his approach. It had been tempting to leave this visit until the end, but there were plants he needed from her domain, along with a few tree folk he was interested in recruiting. It was better to handle this now before his journey wearied him or aggravated him into saying something unwise.

 Chapter 11: The Dragon Talks To Another Tree

    Chapter 11: The Dragon Talks To Another Tree


    The denizens of the forest felt a storm on the horizon, but Anthracia knew better. She was the oldest of the Daughter Trees still living, and she would never mistake what was approaching for a storm.


    The currents of magic that flowed through the earth and sky twisted and bent at his approach. The wind carried whispers of his name, not the name his parents had given him, but the names the world itself had bestowed upon him for his deeds. Few were those who had received that privilege, and even amongst the primordial dragons, none carried with them as many names as him.


    Spell-Binder.


    Magic-Weaver.


    Rune-Seeker.


    Those were the names the world had given him for his prowess in magic. There were none living who surpassed him in the overall depth and breadth of their knowledge. She suspected that his wisdom and knowledge of the arcane had surpassed even the titans of the First Age. Oh, the First Gods had been mighty, some beyond the ability of even her kind to understand. But Doomwing had lived long, and he had sought the secrets of magic as greedily as he had sought to grow his hoard.


    God-Mourner.


    Mother-Slayer.


    Ocean-Breaker.


    Dead-Killer.


    Beast-Conqueror.


    Will-Liberator.


    Those were the names he had earned over the Ages in his battles against the Catastrophes. Where many of his kind had retreated from the world or even fled it, Doomwing had stubbornly continued to fight. He alone, of all the primordial dragons, had fought against every single one of the Catastrophes. He had been wounded many times and almost slain in several of his battles, yet still he fought.


    She could still remember the last time she had seen him, albeit only through the eyes of the elves who had left the safety of her forest to join the battle against the Sixth Catastrophe. For all her power, she could not leave the forest, so she had given them what gifts she could and sent them to fight in her stead with whatever tree folk and monster she could spare. Only a handful of them had returned, but she had witnessed the final battle through their eyes.


    High King Elerion had fallen at the hands of his lover, valiant to the last, the bodies of his foes heaped up in great mountains beside him. Blind and with his armour and weapons broken, he had fought to the end. It had been glorious, an end worthy of the First Age, and the sight of it had so moved the hearts of the survivors that to this day, songs were still sung of the greatest of the kings of men in the Age when they were at their strongest. Marcus had been there too, beset on all sides, fangs bared, blood-drinking blade shining a brilliant crimson as he cut his way through the kitsune and their supporters, half-mad with grief and rage and sorrow.


    There had been other heroes too, all the might and glory of that Age gathered for a single decisive battle against someone who possessed the skill and power to break the minds of others and bend them to her will. Entire nations had fallen without resistance, their kings enslaved, their people bewitched, their armies turned into puppets. Only a great aegis of magic protected them, woven by Doomwing himself and bolstered by all the masters of dreams and minds they could find who had not thrown in their lot with Kagami.


    And then Doomwing had fallen.


    A spear of god-metal had struck him, its surface awash with divine runes thought lost since the First Age. Anthracia had no idea where Kagami had gotten it. The only source of god-metal had been the First Gods, and they had all fallen in the First Age. And when they fell, the god-metal of their bodies had not lingered. It had vanished in blinding bursts of god-fire that had gouged holes in reality and had shaken the world. It should not have been possible to find even a shard of god-metal, but Kagami had found a spear of the material and had either crafted the divine runes herself in defiance of her nature or had found the spear intact and whole with those runes upon it.


    Doomwing should have died.


    And he would have, if he had been even a fraction slower in his defence.


    Ancient runes of great and terrible power had sprung up to protect him and blunt the blow of the spear. Yet even so, it had pierced the scales of his chest and had torn him from the sky. The runes upon the spear had sung of death and doom and inescapable fate. But Doomwing had not faltered. Even as molten blood poured from his wounds, he had studied the weapon that was trying to kill him, and he had seen a way to win. To this day, Anthracia was not sure how he had done it, but Doomwing had broken the spear and ripped it from his body before it could slay him.


    And then, barely conscious, power all but gone, he had taken the shattered shards of the spear and wrestled from them the god-fire that dwelt within, turning it against Kagami and striking her down. The shards of the spear had vanished, reduced to utter nothingness, and Doomwing had at last allowed himself to fall, to slump wounded and drained, upon a battlefield of corpses, for the sheer might of his counter attack had slain all but the mightiest of those fighting, and even they had been gravely wounded.


    "Had someone else told me this, I would have called them a liar, for the Doomwing I know would never do such a thing. Yet here you are, and you have spoken the words yourself." Anthracia gave a low hum, and the leaves quivered in the air, rolling like waves across the sea. "I find myself intrigued by what sort of place your territory will become. Very well, I shall give you what you seek... but not for free."


    "Of course. I did not come here like a beggar demanding gifts." Doomwing brought forth two things. "An exchange is what I seek."


    "Oh?" The phoenix peered at the things beside him. "And what are those?"


    Doomwing used his magic to move the rosebush he''d brought forward. "These are ember-truth roses."


    "Those were all destroyed during the Sixth Age," Anthracia replied. "I know. I had my children search far and wide for them."


    "Kagami had them destroyed because ember-truth roses burn away illusions and lies. Their petals can be ground up to make potions that render people immune to all but the most powerful illusions and mind-influencing magic. She knew how dangerous they would be and got rid of them before we could make use of them against her. However, a handful of them survived, weak, frail, and withered in forgotten places. During one of my awakenings almost seven hundred years ago, I found them. You see, ember-truth roses can only grow in places where there is great magical energy and heat, and they grow best of all in areas frequented by a celestial dragon."


    Anthracia''s phoenix beat its wings. "Dawnscale left at the end of the Fourth Age. She was the last celestial dragon. No others have reached that state since."


    "She did leave," Doomwing acknowledged. "But she left a few of her scales with me as a gift, perhaps in the hopes that I might join her some day. I still have those scales, and her power still lingers in them. I took the ember-truth roses I found and placed them and the scales in an artefact I have. It has taken seven hundred years, but I have multiple bushes of them now. I would give you this bush as part of our exchange." He eased the rosebush toward her. "Now that the bush is this large, it no longer needs to draw upon the strength of a celestial dragon. The touch of a dryad should be more than enough to see it grow and prosper."


    "A worthy item," Anthracia murmured.


    He could sense the greed in her words. Like Daphne, the thought of a new plant excited her, especially one so rare that she was likely the only other person in the world who had one.


    "And the other item?" Anthracia asked.


    Doomwing nodded at the massive scale floating beside him. "The scale of a leviathan from the Third Age. You were not yet old enough to slay the greatest of their number, but I felled many of them. The edges of your forest border the sea. This scale can be used in the forging of armour that lets its wearer breathe underwater and move as easily underwater as they would on land. Unlike the scales of lesser krakens, the effects will be much stronger, and the drain on the wearer''s magic much lower."


    The dryad considered the scale, and then her phoenix construct nodded. "Both are suitable. I will provide you with the plants you seek and choose appropriate tree folk for you."


    "Appropriate?" Doomwing asked.


    "It would be unwise to bring older tree folk to such a young dryad, lest they contest her leadership. Younger tree folk will not be as strong, but they will not make trouble. They shall grow in strength together, and the bond between them will deepen until it is unbreakable."


    "I will heed your words. You know more about tree folk than me." Doomwing turned his gaze further south. "I have more plants and tree folk to collect. I wish to collect the rest of them first and then return here once I am done since you are the closest to my territory."


    "Very well. I will ensure that everything is ready when you return." Anthracia''s phoenix glared. "Be mindful when you visit my sisters, Doomwing. They are more... fragile than myself."


    "I will do nothing foolish, provided they act with common sense."


    "And if they do not?" Anthracia asked.


    "Fear not. I will not slay them or cause too much harm, but I will educate them." Doomwing offered Anthracia a seed. "A communication seed from Daphne, the dryad who is in my territory. Will you accept it?"


    "I will." A seed floated over to Doomwing. "And here is one of mine. Give it to her." Anthracia''s phoenix shook its head. "Putting up with you cannot be easy. It will be good for her to have another dryad to talk to."


    Doomwing''s lips curled. "And being a tree must be unbearable. No wonder you created a construct who can fly." He paused. "What will happen to all your leaves now?"


    Anthracia''s phoenix construct laughed. "I am not so foolish as to strip my tree bare of leaves without a plan. They shall simply reattach themselves to my tree and be none the worse for it."

 Chapter 12: The Dragon Sees Something Unusual

    Chapter 12: The Dragon Sees Something Unusual


    As privileged as the world was to witness his splendour, Doomwing was all too aware that there were times when it was best to travel unnoticed. A dragon of his size and power had a tendency to attract trouble, either in the form of challengers or in people seeking to win his favour. He was not in the mood for either today, so he had chosen to conceal himself from view. It was a middling concealment at best, a spell of the tenth order that hid his presence from others. However, in the event that he did run into one of the few forces capable of challenging him in battle, a rune of concealment would be interpreted as a prelude to conflict. This spell, however, made it clear to anyone of sufficient skill and power that he wasn''t looking for a fight but was instead hoping to travel unbothered.


    Below him, the seemingly endless forest that Anthracia ruled over had given way to a vast, rolling plain covered in grass and dotted by the occasional tree. Towering over the plain were spires of black rock that clawed up toward the sky, along with pillars of polished grey stone that stood even taller. The pillars were covered in the ancient magical script of the dwarves and were imbued with a collection of runes, ranging from basic runes to a handful of greater runes.


    Doomwing smiled faintly.


    In the long ago days of the Third Age, when the seas had risen to swallow the world, this area had been beneath the waves. Although many of the elves had sought safety in the boughs of the Daughter Trees, others had allied with the dwarves, the stalwart children of the earth. The dwarves had lost their homes to rising waters, and most had retreated to the highest and most remote peaks for safety. Yet some had sought refuge not within mountains but in the sky, allying with the like-minded elves to craft ships that could sail through the clouds and even a city that soared through the sky.


    Those ships and that city had needed vast quantities of magic to remain aloft. The spires of black rock upon the plain were natural conduits that allowed magic to flow between the earth and sky. The dwarves and elves had studied them and created the grey pillars to do the same but in a way that allowed their ships and city to more easily harvest that magic for their use.


    Those had been good days. The dwarves and elves of that age had delved deeply into the intersection of magic and mechanics and had developed techniques that combined both to devastating effect. Their ships and city had possessed weapons that drew upon the vast energies that flowed through the world. They would channel that power through artifacts of exquisite craftsmanship that shaped that raw magical energy into spells of impressive might.


    Doomwing had been fascinated by their approach to magic, and he had spent many years learning and researching alongside them. He had been smaller then, which made it much easier for him to seek shelter upon the large, floating island the city was built upon. And he had been on good terms with Aurai, the dryad who dwelt at the very heart of the city. Only a dryad like her could have managed the many mechanisms and magics that allowed the city to fly, and she alone, of all the Daughter Trees, had loved the sky more than the ground.


    But those days had not lasted, and in the end, she and almost all of the dwarves and elves she treasured had perished in the battle against the Third Catastrophe. With their deaths, the elves and dwarves alike abandoned the skies, and never again was there a city that soared through the sky or ships that sailed through the clouds. Now, the dwarves dreamt only of rock and stone, and the elves seldom left their forest homes. Perhaps one day, he would meet dwarves and elves who still dreamed of the sky, and perhaps he would teach them how to fly again.


    Yet as he continued to fly over the plain, he noticed something very unusual. There were centaurs fighting a large five-headed hydra. That, in and of itself, was not odd. Hydras could often be found on plains where they would prey on sheep, bison, and whatever else they could catch. Centaurs, being larger than ordinary horses, would be ideal prey for a hungry hydra, especially if the hydra could catch them unawares or while they had children with them. True, centaurs could outpace a hydra, but hydras did not tire easily, and they could keep up a steady pace for days, gradually wearing the centaurs down until either they stopped to give battle or left behind those who tired most easily. Either way, the hydra would get fed.


    What was unusual, however, were the goblins riding on the backs of the centaurs. For a moment, Doomwing wondered if the goblins were working with the hydra. During the Fifth Age when centaurs had gone to war with the elves, the children of the forest had quickly learned that leaping onto the back of a centaur was an easy way to kill them. However, these goblins were not attacking the centaurs. Instead, they were using magic or bows to attack the hydra while the centaurs kept their distance, darting forward now and then to stab at the reptile with long lances or to throw their spears.


    Doomwing chuckled. It was not often that he saw something he had never seen before, but this was definitely new... and very amusing. Watching it, he couldn''t help but be impressed by their coordination. Goblins were, for the most part, fairly weak from a physical standpoint. Their greatest advantage lay in how quickly they matured. A goblin might only live fifty years at best, but a goblin was already ready to fight by the age of seven or eight. In contrast, elves could live for hundreds of years, but no elf under fifty would see the battlefield unless things were truly dire. Centaurs, though, had lifespans similar to humans.


    A goblin on the back of a centaur did not have to worry about being overwhelmed in a contest of strength or speed. Anything close enough to reach them would have to contend with the centaur, and centaurs were both very strong and very quick. Indeed, Marcus had often grumbled about how annoying it was to fight a competent centaur with solid armour, a stout shield, and a spear. Perched safely on the back of the centaur, the goblins could use magic or loose arrows, all while the centaur was on the move. Indeed, by retreating whenever the hydra tried to charge, the centaurs were able to maintain a safe distance from the beast while the goblins on their backs whittled it down with arrows and magic. Only when it stumbled or left itself exposed would a centaur attack with their lance or their spear, magic from the goblin mage on their back enhancing their bodies and shielding them from harm.


    For a moment, he pictured Marcus and Elerion riding on the back of a centaur before tossing the idea aside with a snicker. The two of them would have spent more time bickering and jockeying for position than they would have fighting, and the centaur would likely throw them off in sheer aggravation within minutes. Hmm... perhaps he could find a centaur for Antaria to ride on, if only to spite that unicorn of hers.


    The hydra bellowed, and one of the centaurs lost his footing. The horse-man staggered, and the hydra''s heads drew back, ready to unleash a volley of acid that would kill the centaur and the goblins on his back. Doomwing decided to intervene, not because he particularly cared if the centaur and goblins lived or died but because he was curious to know more, and the simplest way to do that was to ask the people involved.


    He snapped off a tenth-order spell. It was a straightforward attack, one that destroyed all of the vital organs of the target simultaneously. The hydra gave a shocked gasp and toppled onto its side, but it was far from dead. Hydras were regenerators. Something as pedestrian as mass organ destruction was not nearly enough to kill a hydra with five heads. He used a second spell, another tenth-order magic that prevented regeneration and healing. Only then did the hydra die.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Oh?"


    "The venom and blood of a hydra are both deadly, as is its acid. We have means of storing all three, and coating our arrows or spears in them can allow us to slay our foes with ease. A hydra''s scales are strong and resistant to poison and magic, so we can fashion them into fine armour. Likewise, the teeth can be used to make weapons. Even the flesh is useful although it must be drained of blood and cleansed with magic before it can be consumed. It is tasty, filling, and can help both young and old increase their power. Truly, you have given us a great gift this day... that is, if you are willing to let us have the hydra."


    Doomwing''s estimation of the goblin rose. He was polite but also smart enough to realise that he would only get whatever Doomwing chose to give him. "I have no interest in the hydra. I have other prey on my mind." The last time he had passed this way, there had been sky whales. He wouldn''t mind eating a few if he saw them. "In exchange, I wish to know about what has happened in this area. Who are the great powers here? Has there been any unusual activity? And if you can tell me anything about the dryad who should live nearby, I would be pleased."


    "Ah. In that case, we would be glad to share what we know, only... do you mean her harm?" Derzu asked before continuing quickly. "I do not presume to tell you what to do, but we have had dealings with her in the past. She drives a tough bargain, but she is fair, and she keeps her oaths. I would not wish to see her come to harm."


    "I have no intention of harming her," Doomwing said. "But she is the one who can direct me to the plants and tree folk I seek."


    "That is good to hear." Derzu nodded. "We will share what we know."


    Three things stood out to Doomwing from the information that Derzu shared. First, the dryad was still around although she had apparently been experiencing difficulties lately. What those were, Derzu could not say because she had not seen fit to tell him. Second, there were indeed sky whales although they were only around once every several months, staying for a few weeks before moving on. If Derzu''s estimations were correct, they should be arriving any day now. Doomwing licked his lips at that information. It had been centuries since he''d eaten a sky whale. The final important piece of information that Derzu shared was the presence of dwarves. Apparently, they had arrived on the edges of the plains perhaps a century ago. He didn''t really know what they were doing so far from their mountain homes, but they sometimes traded supplies with them in exchange for weapons.


    "Your information has been helpful," Doomwing said.


    "Thank you." Derzu scratched the back of his neck. "Are you... planning on hunting the sky whales?"


    "The thought had crossed my mind," Doomwing said. "They are delicious."


    "Do you eat the entire body?" Derzu asked.


    "Planning to scavenge a few pieces for yourselves?" Doomwing asked, amused.


    "The teeth are very useful to us, as are some of the other parts. However, we cannot easily hunt them. The only ones we''ve ever killed are those too old or sick to stay in the air."


    "I see." Doomwing laughed. "Very well. If I happen to kill any, I shall leave whatever I don''t eat. If you or someone else should happen across the remains, what happens to them is not my concern."


    Derzu bowed again. "You have our thanks."


    Doomwing took flight, leaving the goblins and centaurs behind. Some might have thought his treatment of the group strange, but it was perfectly sensible to him. Antaria''s kingdom had sent soldier to raid his lands. He had shown them the respect they deserved, which was none. However, Derzu and his fellows had been respectful, had offered useful information, and had not done anything foolish. Doomwing was not some mindless beast who would slay them without cause.


    Besides, being on reasonable terms with the people who lived here could very easily benefit him and his territory in the future. If nothing else, perhaps he could persuade a few centaurs and goblins to join him. Now to find out what was wrong with the dryad, hunt a few sky whales, and then check in on the dwarves. There was nothing for them out here unless... yes. Perhaps they were searching for relics from the Third Age.

 Interlude 2: The Mirror

    Interlude 2: The Mirror


    Kagami watched her lover and daughter act like idiots and couldn''t help but smile.


    "Agh!" Elerion clutched at his stomach in dramatic fashion and toppled to the ground. "I am defeated!"


    Hikari cackled and struck a pose atop his downed form, stick held aloft, and lone fox tail wagging happily. "Hah! You''re not match for me, daddy!"


    Alas, her daughter had not accounted for his ruthless cunning. Snickering, he twisted and got to his feet, holding her upside down by her ankles as she flailed away at him with her stick. Her flailing achieved precisely nothing. What rudimentary magical reinforcement she could use on her stick had no hope of overcoming her father''s natural durability.


    "Treachery!" she cried. "You surrendered!"


    "Did I?" Elerion smirked. "I only said I was defeated. I never said I surrendered. Always make sure you obtain a formal and public declaration of surrender."


    Hikari''s eyes narrowed. "I will remember this... father."


    Elerion reeled back as if struck. "Father? What happened to calling me daddy?"


    "Treacherous people don''t get to be called daddy."


    Elerion put her back down and clutched at his chest. "Your wounds strike more deeply than any weapon." He covered his face with his hands. "Even I, the High King, cannot help but weep at your cruelty."


    Hikari scoffed. "You''re just faking, daddy."


    He moved his hands and smirked. "You''re calling me daddy again!"


    "..." Hikari made a face, and Kagami could tell that she was very seriously considering kicking her father in the shin. Only the knowledge that she''d probably break her foot doing it kept her from lashing out. "No wonder Uncle Marcus says you''re a schemer, daddy."


    "I only scheme when I have to. But your Uncle Marcus? He schemes because it''s fun." Elerion patted her on the head, and her fox ears twitched until he paused to give them a fond scratch. "You know, we were supposed to go fishing at the lake until you decided to ambush me."


    "It''s practice." Hikari nodded sagely. "Uncle Doomwing says that because I''m tiny and weak, trying to fight people directly would be a bad idea."


    "Well, he''s not wrong," Elerion said as they continued their short walk to the shores of the lake. "But you have to realise that compared to Doomwing, just about everyone is tiny and weak."


    "Not Aunt Dreamsong. She said she could totally beat him in a fight." Hikari abandoned walking in favour of climbing Elerion like a tree and riding on his shoulders. More than once Kagami had wondered why their daughter didn''t do that to her more often, but Hikari had very patiently explained that Kagami was an awful tree and an even worse horse. Elerion, however, was an excellent tree and an even better horse. Kagami hadn''t been sure whether to be amused or annoyed by that. Then again, Elerion has much taller than her, and his shoulders were far broader.


    "Don''t tell your Uncle Doomwing she said that," Elerion said. "Otherwise, he might actually fight her just to see if she can."


    Kagami reached over to catch the ribbon that had fallen out of Hikari''s hair. While her daughter had her piercing green eyes, her hair, tail, and fox ears were the same golden shade as her Elerion''s hair. Hikari was a bundle of energy, but she also liked to keep her hair long, which meant this ribbon was only the most recent in a long line of ribbons that had been lost or mangled in the line of duty.


    "Mommy," Hikari asked. "Who do you think would win in a fight between Uncle Doomwing and Aunt Dreamsong?"


    "It could also be due to the fact that he''s gigantic and would flatten the place you''re drinking in."


    "That too."


    The fishing trip concluded with Kagami''s effortless victory and Elerion''s despair. Her living legend of a lover had managed to catch a grand total of one fish. Hikari had brought in two although both had been smaller than Elerion''s lone fish. Kagami, however, had brought in four fish, all of decent size. They had cooked and eaten their fish on the shores of the lake, and there was a wonderful cosiness to it that made Kagami wish she could spend more time doing things like this with the people she loved and less time ruling her people.


    Alas, the Fith Age had shown that when left to their own devices, the kitsune had a tendency to make... unfortunate decisions.


    In typical fashion, Hikari had eaten well and then promptly fallen asleep. Elerion was carrying her on his back as they returned to the palace. As they walked back, she could tell the exact moment he set aside Elerion the father and once more took up the mantle of Elerion the High King.


    His back straightened, his eyes shone, and despite the grey in his hair, he moved with the vigour of a man in the very prime of his life. This was Elerion the Valiant, the High King who had unified more than a dozen kingdoms beneath his rule and had brought peace and prosperity to millions of people. It was also a mantle he had to wear now that they were no longer alone and were instead moving through the streets toward the palace with the royal guard clearing a path for them.


    The people looked at him in awe and reverence. In their eyes, he was a living legend, a man who had survived the training of a primordial dragon and had used that training to slay a lesser dragon while still a teenager. He had won battle after battle and had proven himself against all manner of foes from dragons and hydras to vampires, werewolves, and sea monsters. As long as he lived, his people were absolutely certain that all would be well, that the peace and prosperity he had brought would continue.


    But that was the thing.


    For all his strengths, Elerion was still only human. His great power meant he would live longer than most men, but he would be fortunate indeed to see more than a century. His people were worried about what would happen when he passed, and they were right to be concerned. To unify his kingdoms, Elerion had taken multiple wives. Each of those wives had given him several children, which meant there were multiple people with claims to the throne he sat upon.


    Of course, Elerion was no fool. He had codified the laws of succession and had publicly proclaimed Altarius, the eldest son of his first wife, as his successor. The plan was to have his other children occupy positions similar to dukes and have them govern their own kingdoms, albeit under the overall rule of Altarius himself whose kingdom was currently the largest and strongest of those that Elerion ruled. But Kagami knew how easily such intentions could be swept aside. Her mother had perished at the end of the Fifth Age, and Kagami had been her official successor.


    Yet she had still been forced to fight a long and bloody battle against her siblings for rule over the kitsune. It had been a battle they could ill afford, and if not for Dreamsong''s support and aid, Kagami wasn''t sure she would have survived, never mind won, the battle over the succession. She feared that the moment Elerion died, a similar battle would erupt with his various children warring amongst each other for rule over the kingdoms.


    Kagami had no intention of getting Hikari involved in that conflict, but that didn''t mean Hikari would be able to stay out of it. Hikari was only a child now, but she was Kagami''s daughter, and Kagami ruled the kitsune. Should Hikari wish, she could call upon a force equal to or greater than any of her half-siblings. To make matters more complicated, Hikari genuinely liked most of her half-siblings. If they went to war with each other... her daughter''s kind heart would break.


    Kagami had already informed the various factions that she had every intention of upholding Elerion''s desires and backing Altarius as the next High King. She had known the young man and his mother for years now, and she was on good terms with both. There was no great romantic love between the High Queen and Elerion, but the two of them greatly respected each other and viewed each other as trustworthy friends. They matched each other well, with the High Queen handling matters at court while Elerion acted more freely. More than once, Kagami had used her own... resources to aid the High Queen, and there was a firm understanding between them that in exchange for Kagami backing Altarius, Altarius would see to it that there would always be a place for Hikari and the kitsune in the lands Elerion ruled.


    Of course, that support had also made her enemies amongst the other would-be successors and their families. They viewed her as a threat, and she had no doubt that they would take more direct action once Elerion passed. But she would be ready for them, and she would make sure that Hikari was ready too. Her daughter was young, yes, but in time, she would grow stronger than any human could ever be. Kagami could feel it. Hikari was not her only child, simply the youngest, but she had the potential to surpass her other children.


    If only the politics amongst the kitsune wasn''t even worse than amongst the humans. As cut-throat as it could be in Elerion''s court, there was a reason that Kagami rarely brought Hikari back to the kitsune homeland, and even then, she entrusted her daughter''s care to Dreamsong when she couldn''t see to her personally.


    "You are worrying again," Elerion said quietly. "And I can tell what you''re worrying about." His lips twitched. "You worry too much."


    "Perhaps you don''t worry enough."


    "The matter of the succession has been settled, and I''ve also spoken to Marcus and Doomwing about it. They have agreed to enforce it. I doubt anyone wants to fight Marcus, and I know for a fact that absolutely nobody is going to pick a fight with Doomwing."


    "I just..." Kagami sighed. "I worry." She looked at their daughter who was snoring away on Elerion''s back. "If only people could just... get along. That would be great, wouldn''t it?"


    "It would be, yes." Elerion chuckled. "But people are people. Unless you make them, I doubt that''ll ever happen."

 Chapter 13: The Dragon Hunts

    Chapter 13: The Dragon Hunts


    Doomwing found the dryad easily enough. She was, by far, the largest tree in the area, and she was surrounded by a grove of tree folk who were the next largest trees after her. However, she had definitely seen better days. Her leaves should have been a lush, vibrant green. Instead, they were dull and waxen, and her bark was peeling in several places. The grass around her was drab and lifeless when it should have been thriving, and the tree folk were slow and lethargic in response to his approach.


    Had he wished, he could have killed them long before they had any chance to defend themselves. Yet he had revealed himself early to observe their response. The tree folk took almost a minute to uproot themselves, and they moved with a strange awkwardness that had nothing to do with their size and everything to do with the odd lethargy that seemed to have stolen the strength from their limbs. The magic that stirred within them and the dryad was less potent that it ought to be, and the lack of beasts or wild animals to aid in her defence spoke volumes.


    She was ailing, and she had likely been ailing for quite some time.


    "I am not here to kill you," Doomwing boomed as he landed nearby. "I seek plants and young tree folk for a dryad that I have acquired." He squinted at the dryad. What was her name again? He had definitely met her before, but he didn''t bother remembering the names of everyone he''d met in the past. Still, he wanted to avoid picking a fight, not because he might lose but because even a weak blow would probably be the death of this dryad. He surreptitiously cast a ninth-order spell to peer into his own memories, so he could dig up her name. "It has been a long time... Lydia."


    The dryad emerged from her tree and regarded him warily. Her skin was a mottled assortment of greens, and her hair was made up of vines and leaves of different kinds. In his memories, she had been worthy of her name. She had been vibrant and full of life, seeming almost to shine and easily stealing attention even in the presence of her fellow dryads. "Are you going to tell me that I look well, Doomwing?" She paused. "I had begun to think you were dead due to the lack of explosions. It appears I was wrong."


    "The Sixth Catastrophe came close to slaying me, but I emerged victorious in the end, albeit not without help." He was not so arrogant as to claim sole credit for that victory himself. "And I won''t tell you that you''re looking well when you very obviously look terrible."


    The tree folk bristled at his words, and their wooden bodies shifted. Spiky roots emerged from the ground and barbed branches extended from their arms. Razor-sharp leaves sprouted from their backs, and several of their ponderous forms moved to occupy his blind spots. Fools. He didn''t need to see them to know where they were or to destroy them.


    "As blunt as ever." Lydia''s eyes narrowed, twin pools of faded jade. "You said something about plants and young tree folk."


    "Yes." He called up images of the plants he wanted. "I want to obtain these plants, and I would like to offer any young tree folk who are willing a place at the side of the dryad I have acquired."


    "Those plants... they are here, and I can help you find them. As for the tree folk, that is up to them. The young ones are not here. They are scattered across the plains in accordance with their traditions. A few might be willing, but I would ask that you only take those who wish to go. If you are asking for young tree folk, then this dryad of yours must be young."


    "She is," Doomwing replied. "And Anthracia said it would be best to get young tree folk to serve her to avoid problems in the future."


    "She was right to say that," Lydia replied. "But before I show you where you may acquire the plants you seek and use my power to ensure they will survive the journey you are on, you must do something for me."


    "I assume you want help with whatever has left you in this condition."


    "Yes." Lydia scowled. "You know more about magic than anyone else I have met, and my problem has to do with magic. Fix it, and I''ll help you."


    "Hmm... that is acceptable." Doomwing reached out with his senses and cast several greater runes of scrying and detection to better examine Lydia and her surroundings. The problem was evident immediately. Dryads generally lived in places with large quantities of ambient magic. However, the currents of magic in this area were weak, not unlike rivers that had been emptied by irrigation. Since he did not remember Lydia being a fool, this must be a recent development because no sane dryad would choose to live in a place so bereft of ambient magic.


    "The currents of magic in this area are weak. How long have they been this way?" Doomwing asked.


    "For at least two centuries, but the problem has been getting worse and worse." Lydia pointed toward one of the huge pillars of grey stone in the distance. "That pillar controls the flow of magic in this area. I saw no reason to concern myself with it because its default settings were more than suitable for my needs. However, someone was able to change the setting. Unfortunately, I lack the power to defeat that person, and I do not understand the pillar well enough to attempt to modify it. Besides, I''m a dryad. I cannot wander too far from where I am, and this is not a task I can trust to my tree folk."


    Doomwing nodded in agreement. Tree folk were stalwart defenders and were generally loyal to a fault, provided certain conditions were met. However, they were not especially intelligent, and a wise dryad knew to issue clear, simple orders. Asking them to manipulate ancient technology that had been developed by the dwarves and elves would be an exercise in futility. They could very easily make things worse, and they might even be killed if they activated the self-defence mechanisms built into the pillar.


    "Who is the culprit?" Doomwing asked.


    "You''ve eaten your fill, but now it''s my turn!"


    He dove as the sky whales scattered, the younger bulls splitting into groups to safeguard the cows and calves. Doomwing smiled inwardly. This pod was truly impressive. Splitting into groups would maximise the chances of at least some members of the pod surviving. Indeed, many predators would be confused by the tactic and struggle to choose which group to chase after, allowing all of them to escape. Only the old bull remained, the mile-and-a-half-long monster turning upward to face him.


    The sky whale did not speak with words. He could not. Instead, he projected thoughts filled with pure aggression and rage straight at Doomwing''s mind. A lesser dragon would have flinched beneath the onslaught, maybe even retreated. Doomwing laughed. It had been so long since he''d fought someone who wasn''t afraid of him, even if the whale was a fool who should have known better.


    "Till death then!" Doomwing boomed. "In the old way."


    Doomwing dispelled the multitude of magical defences he kept woven around himself and cancelled the attack magic he had prepared. The sky whale wanted to face him in a contest of physical combat. It was foolish, given all Doomwing was capable of, but his blood was burning, and only this sort of primal violence would satisfy it. Forget the time-honoured tactics he knew. Forget the careful analysis of strengths and weaknesses he was famed for. And forget stealth, subterfuge, or trickery.


    This was a fight, a battle of teeth and claws against teeth and horns.


    The two of them met in the sky over the pillar and the shockwave of the impact flattened the grass below them and shattered the clouds nearby. The whale''s horns scraped along his scales, and Doomwing roared with delight and rage as he clawed at the whale''s head and body. The whale tried to bite down on his limbs, but Doomwing kept them clear of the snapping jaws. The whale''s fins and flippers flapped, and the beast drove them higher into the air. Doomwing could have tried to disengage and jockey for a better position. Instead, he clung onto the whale, slashing with his claws, biting anything he could reach, and whipping the bull with his tail.


    The whale roared in pain, and a savage jerk of his body sent Doomwing tumbling away. He righted himself just in time to see the whale charging toward him like a flying mountain. He twisted aside at the last moment, the scales on belly shrieking as the whale''s horns scraped against them. At the same time, he twisted and drove his claws into the whale''s back, allowing the massive creature''s own momentum to carve deep furrows into the hardened slabs of flesh there. Blood poured from the wounds and fell onto the ground like bloody rain, and Doomwing dove to try to take advantage of the whale''s injuries.


    The whale met him with his tail, and Doomwing spun away, jaw stinging from the force of the impact. How long had it been since he''d taken a hit like that? Not since the Sixth Catastrophe, and that had been magic, not pure, physical force. The whale charged again, but Doomwing was ready. He dodged cleanly this time, and he went beneath the whale, tearing into his underbelly and ripping at his fins and flippers. Yet the whale was so huge that he barely seemed to even feel the wounds


    He rounded on Doomwing and dropped out of the sky like a hammer. Even with his speed and agility, Doomwing could not avoid the strike entirely. It caught his left arm, and the limb would have broken if he hadn''t rolled with the strike, spinning like a barrel to rob the blow of its force and then using the momentum of his spin to lash out with his tail. The strike hit the whale on the face, and he felt something give way. But rather than be stunned by what was probably a fractured skull, the old bull just got madder.


    "Magnificent," Doomwing bellowed. "How old are you, I wonder? You have to be at least an Age old to be this size and this strong. I remember my father warning me when I was only a hatchling that for all our size and strength, a sky whale like you might be stronger in purely physical terms. I didn''t believe him, and I suffered for my foolishness. But you sky whales are all strength. Where is your agility, your cunning, your technique?"


    The sky whale didn''t answer. He attacked.


    Doomwing could have used magic to enhance himself. The whale certainly was, now that he was clearly losing, but Doomwing wanted to enjoy this. The moment he used enhancement magic, the battle would end, and he was having fun.


    What followed next was like a game of tag between a colossal dragon and an even more colossal whale. Over and over again, the whale would charge, and each time, Doomwing would dodge, landing a few blows before he broke off, only to repeat the process when the whale attacked again. Slowly but surely, the whale was bleeding out, the impact of each wound adding up until he could barely keep himself aloft. Doomwing had taken a few hits himself, but he was beaming, his blood running hot and exultant in his veins.


    "You''re just about finished, aren''t you?" Doomwing murmured.


    The old bull stared back at him, defiant despite the certainty of his defeat. Doomwing inclined his head. He could respect that. With a pained groan, the sky whale readied himself for another charge. It was likely the last real charge he could make, given his dwindling strength. So be it. Doomwing would end the battle now. He would give the whale the honour of dying at his claws instead of simply bleeding out.


    The whale charged, but this time, Doomwing moved forward to meet him. He contorted himself at the last moment in a way only a dragon could, and then he drove his claw into the sky whale''s eye socket. The blow pulped the bull''s brain, and Doomwing wrenched his claw free and beat his wings to gain some height as he watched the sky whale plummet toward the ground below. The whale struck the ground with a terrible thump, and Doomwing dragged in several deep breaths. Blood was splattered across his scales, and more of it dripped from his claws, his teeth, and his tail.


    He felt more alive than he had in centuries.


    "Now to fix the pillar and then I can eat."


    His gaze shifted to a group of riders approaching the downed whale. Ah. That was probably Derzu and his people. Well, they could wait until Doomwing was done eating before they got have any of the remains. Hmm... the whale had been a worthy foe. He would keep some of his heart to give to Antaria. The princess should be strong enough to survive eating it. If not, well, there were a few techniques that he could teach her that should allow her to survive. It could be yet another lesson. Moreover, eating even a small portion of such a mighty sky whale''s heart should increase her strength and stamina. His lips curled. She''d have to eat it raw, though, because cooking it would only reduce its potency. That should be fun to watch.

 Chapter 14: The Dragon Learns Something Interesting

    Chapter 14: The Dragon Learns Something Interesting


    Doomwing was mildly amused by the enthusiasm the goblins showed as they clambered all over the corpse of the colossal sky whale. He had already eaten his share and used his magic to store whatever he felt was worth keeping. However, there was still plenty left. The older a dragon became, the more adept they grew at absorbing ambient magic and using it to fuel their metabolism.


    In theory, Doomwing didn''t even need to eat. If he found a place with enough magic, he could just snooze away the centuries without a care in the world. He''d chosen his volcano and carefully manipulated its surroundings to ensure that it could completely support him for thousands of years if necessary. Every other primordial dragon he knew had taken similar steps to craft a suitable lair although his was obviously the best.


    "Come on," Derzu shouted. "No dawdling. There''s no telling when trouble will show up, so we need to grab whatever we can as quickly as we can."


    Doomwing chuckled as the wizened goblin scaled the sky whale''s side with surprising agility before taking a giant cleaver to the blubber that had been exposed by one of the Doomwing''s strikes. The goblins had already learned that the cetacean''s hide was too tough for their weapons to pierce. They could damage it if they pooled their magic, but they would run out of power long before leaving any wounds large enough for proper harvesting.


    Instead, the goblins had taken advantage of the gaping wounds that had been left by Doomwing''s claws and teeth, using them like tunnels in a mine to harvest the bounty before them. They might not be strong, but they were clever and hardworking, and there was value to that.


    "Mighty Doomwing," Derzu asked. "Would I be able to ask a favour of you?"


    Doomwing was enjoying the spectacle, so he nodded. "What do you want?"


    "Would you be able to slice the whale open there." Derzu pointed. "It would help us a lot."


    "That is easy enough." Doomwing''s claws flashed, and a section of the whale''s back split open. "There."


    "Thank you." Derzu bowed deeply. "We''ve harvested sky whales before, but they were all far smaller than this one. And you slew it without your magic or fire?"


    "It wouldn''t have been fun otherwise." Doomwing laughed. "It has been a long time since I faced a whale his size. He was a worthy opponent, for all that I bested him. Most of his kind would have fled when they saw me. He stood his ground and even landed a few blows of his own." He licked his lips. "His heart was excellent, as befitted an old, tough bull like him."


    Derzu continued hacking away at the blubber. Like all the goblins, he had a pouch with him. The pouches were bigger on the inside than the outside although they could only carry so much, given their reliance on fifth-order magic. From what he''d seen so far, the goblins could only have made those pouches by working together and performing rituals as a group. To have so many of them suggested decades of effort, especially since the materials used to make the pouches could not be easy to come by out on the plains.


    "How much will you take?" Doomwing asked curiously.


    "As much as we can carry," Derzu said, grinning from ear to ear. "It''s a shame that we can''t take it all, but we''ll be taking the best of what you left behind. The blubber and flesh will be able to feed us for years if we preserve them properly, the bones, teeth, and horns can be made into weapons and tools, the hide can be used for armour, and the remaining organs can be used for rituals and potions." He saluted Doomwing with his cleaver. "You''ve left us a king''s ransom, mighty Doomwing."


    "A king''s ransom for you, but a pittance for me." Doomwing''s power had grown to the point where even a whale this strong could only feed his hunger, not boost his strength. "But in exchange, I want your people to keep track of what happens on the plains. I will stop by regularly or send someone in my stead. Also, if there are any goblins or centaurs who might be interested in leaving the plains"


    "Hmm." Derzu nodded slowly. "There are always a few who wish to leave. Most of them wander off to seek adventure on their own or join one of the mercenary bands that passes through from time to time."


    "Oh?"


    "There are kingdoms to the south of us. They''re a mixed bunch plenty of humans, beast people, goblins, orcs, and others. They spend most of their time warring with each other, so there''s plenty of work for mercenaries. Every now and then, we''ll get mercenaries passing through to recruit."


    "They don''t give you trouble?" Doomwing asked.


    "They tried. But we are the same people who drove off the wolves. We made it clear that trouble would not be tolerated."


    Doomwing bared his teeth. "Good." His attention shifted to the sky. He''d dallied here long enough. "I will be leaving now, goblin. I suggest having your centaur companions keep a close eye on the skies. My presence here has deterred wyverns, drakes, and other fliers from daring to approach the corpse. They will come once I am gone."


    "Thank you for the warning," Derzu said. "We''ll have spearmen and bowmen ready. If anything too strong comes along, we''ll just run. We''ve already got plenty. There''s no point in dying just to get a little more." He bowed again. "May fortune favour you, mighty Doomwing."


    Doomwing chuckled. "We make our own fortune, goblin. Never forget that."


    He arrived back at Lydia''s tree. The dryad had a savage smile on her face.


    Lydia smirked. "They found a phoenix egg."


    "That is" Doomwing straightened. "Remarkable."


    Phoenixes were even rarer than dragons. They had been born at the end of the First Age. Through a process he still didn''t understand, some of the bursts of god-fire that had marked the deaths of the First Gods had given rise to avian creatures. They were not gods, and they could not use the divine runes or primordial runes that the First Gods had possessed. Mother Tree had believed that phoenixes were born from the desperate desire of the First Gods to live, that the god-fire that marked their passing had done its best to express that final, frantic desire.


    It would explain why phoenixes never truly died. Even if a phoenix was destroyed utterly, it would eventually return, hatching from an egg-like construct wrought of ineffable magics that were the closest Doomwing had ever seen to the long-lost runes of the First Gods. However, their rebirths came at a cost. It could take them thousands of years to return, and their ''egg'' would always appear in a place of dense magical energy. If the egg was removed from that environment, it would slow the phoenix''s rebirth. Less scrupulous individuals had even found ways to keep phoenixes trapped in that nascent state, so they could harvest their energy.


    The mad vampire necromancer of the Fourth Age had kept a trio of such eggs, using their essences to boost his strength and render him immune to the few weaknesses that ancient vampires possessed. Stealing those eggs and helping those phoenixes hatch, so they could extract their pound of flesh had been a critical part of their plan to defeat the Fourth Catastrophe. They had left after the battle, and Doomwing had never seen them again.


    "Where did they get it?" Doomwing asked urgently. "And do they still have it?"


    "I don''t know where they got it, but they still have it. After the wolves were beaten back by the goblins and centaurs, they fled into the foothills at the edge of the plains." Lydia pointed. "If you fly that way, you should run into them."


    "And you never tried to take the egg for yourself?" Doomwing asked. "You could have grown strong from it."


    "The egg was so low on energy that I could barely sense it, and by then, it was too late. The wolves had carried it far beyond my domain." Lydia''s lips curled. "What was I to do then? Tell the goblins and centaurs?"


    "No," Doomwing said quickly. "Power like that they do not seem like evil people, but that sort of power can turn even good men into monsters. Better for it to remain unknown, for secrecy to be its shield." He inclined his head. "You have my thanks for telling me."


    "What will you do?"


    "Retrieve it," Doomwing said bluntly. "It cannot be left in their hands. Since all they were able to do was ascend into flare wolves, they are either not smart enough to harness its full power or do not know what it is. I will take it for myself."


    "And then?"


    Lydia was likely asking if he would consume the egg. Dragons had done that in the past, and they had grown stronger from doing so. However, Doomwing was far beyond the point where such a weakened, depleted egg would increase his power. Moreover, he had known a few phoenixes in the Second Age. By and large, they were reasonable folk. Indeed, they had taken an intense interest in the weaker species, such as elves, dwarves, and so on.


    He also knew that they changed with each rebirth. Yes, they often regained their memories, but their personalities were heavily influenced by the experiences they had after being reborn. If he could hatch the phoenix and then raise it properly, it would be able to aid him in establishing his empire.


    Heh.


    He could already imagine the look on Marcus''s face when he eventually visited and saw a phoenix serving Doomwing. Phoenixes were also good at using their fire to create things, rather than destroy them, perhaps due to their connection to the First Gods.


    Wait


    His mind raced. He was hoping to sway the dwarves to his cause, assuming they weren''t crazy or evil. There were so many things that dwarves excelled at, such as metal work, masonry, road building, and general engineering that would be useful to his domain. If he had a phoenix egg, he could dangle the possibility of working with a phoenix''s flames in front of them.


    No dwarf would be able to resist.


    His greed must have shown because Lydia took a wary step back.


    "That look on your face right now"


    Doomwing flexed his wings. "I will be going to retrieve the egg before speaking to the dwarves. After that, I have a few more plants to gather, but they should not take long. In a week at most, I will return. Have the plants I need gathered by then, along with any tree folk who are willing to come serve the dryad I have."


    "You still haven''t told me what you plan to do with the egg," Lydia insisted.


    "I plan to hatch it," Doomwing said. "I even have the perfect place for it too. After all, what better place could there be for a phoenix to be reborn than a volcano?"

 Chapter 15: The Dragon Claims His Prize

    Chapter 15: The Dragon Claims His Prize


    Doomwing found the phoenix egg easily enough. It was precisely where Lydia had said it would be. The wolves had carried it into the foothills, and the egg was hidden in a large cave the pack had claimed for their den. He might have missed it if he hadn''t known to look for it, the egg was so drained of energy, but he had encountered phoenix eggs before. It was subtle, but they carried a certain presence that reminded him of the First Gods.


    He stopped in the air above the cave and let magic carry his voice into the cave below.


    "You know what I want. Hand over the egg, and you may live. Refuse and you will die."


    He had dealt with ascended wolves in the past. Despite their increased intelligence, they were much the same as their lesser kin. They respected strength above all else, and they would see any attempt to bargain as weakness. Fools. Dragons did not bargain out of weakness. They did so as a courtesy. To reject an offer was to welcome combat.


    The wolves did not reply, and Doomwing cast a greater rune of scrying upon the cave. His molten blood burned with volcanic rage when he saw what was happening. The leader of the pack, a male flare wolf that was roughly the size of a small house, had the egg in his jaws and was trying to eat it. Only the egg''s innate durability and dwindling power had kept it from being devoured, but it would not last much longer.


    Doomwing snarled, and the currents of ambient magic in the area twisted and coiled like duelling snakes.


    He dared?


    Fool.


    There were would be no bargaining now.


    Only death.


    All dragons could breathe fire. However, different types of dragons had access to other forms of breath attack. Frost dragons could also breathe ice. Storm dragons could also breathe lightning. Doomwing was a nova dragon. Apart from fire, he could breathe raw force. It was like striking his enemies with a massive sledgehammer. When he used his force breath, his enemies didn''t burn. They were reduced to pulp, simultaneously crushed and exploded.


    Of course, like any self-respecting dragon, he had honed his breath attack. He was capable of so much more than brute force. His breath attack was, for all intents and purposes, a form of telekinesis. Yes, it was easier to just smash things with it, but he had learned to use it for tasks that would otherwise be very difficult, like manipulating small or delicate objects. Over the years, his mastery had grown to the point of absurdity. In the same way that a primordial inferno dragon could simply will fire into existence instead of having to breath it out of their mouth, Doomwing could generate telekinetic force through his will alone.


    Of course, the forces he could generate were still greater when unleashed in the form of a breath attack. And it was a pity that all of the Catastrophes he''d fought had possessed abilities that rendered them immune to certain more direct uses of his telekinesis. His life would have been so much easier otherwise.


    The wolves had no such abilities, and Doomwing was not in a merciful mood.


    He took a single deep breath, and the ground beneath him buckled and tore upward. He ripped the top of the cave off and heaved it aside. Suddenly exposed to the open sky, the flare wolves stared up at him in a combination of awe and terror. The smarter ones tried to flee while the leader tried to crush the egg in his jaws.


    None of them moved.


    None of them could.


    They were all held in place by Doomwing''s power. This was the reason he rarely used his telekinesis in battle. It took all the joy out of it. Lesser creatures like these wolves had no chance of resisting it whatsoever.


    He took another breath and wrenched the egg out of the leader''s mouth. If the wolf''s head came apart in a burst of mangled flesh and bone, well, he shouldn''t have tried to eat what was Doomwing''s. The other wolves remained frozen in place, and Doomwing flexed his power and exhaled. The wolves exploded, and he took a moment to savour the carnage he had wrought.


    It was a pity that all of the Catastrophes he''d fought had possessed enough strength, as well as a number of more exotic abilities, that simply exploding them was impossible. Oh, he''d tried, but they wouldn''t have been Catastrophes if they could be killed that easily. Instead, he''d been forced to use his telekinetic breath in other ways like concentrating all of his flames into the equivalent of a super-thin, super-sharp, ultra-high speed drill of pure heat.


    That had been fun although it was ridiculous overkill for anything that wasn''t at least as strong as a primordial dragon.


    With the wolves dead and the egg in his possession, Doomwing took a moment to study the egg properly. The egg was a perfect sphere that was roughly three feet in diameter. It should have been surrounded by a corona of heat so intense that the wolves should have burned alive long before being able to touch it, and its surface should have resembled polished rock.


    Instead, the egg was almost cool to the touch, and its surface resembled the cracked earth common to drought-stricken lands. If Doomwing had arrived even a month later, the egg would no longer be salvageable. The phoenix inside it would have died again, and the egg would have shattered, only to reform elsewhere.


    Fury stirred in his veins at the mere thought of being denied such a prize by a pack of wolves.


    The wolves had either gotten incredibly lucky by stumbling across the egg only moments after it had formed, or someone of far greater power had somehow managed to lose it. In either case, the wolves hadn''t known how to properly harness the egg''s power. They could have taken the egg to a proper place of power and used the power it absorbed there to fuel further ascensions. Instead, they had taken the egg to these foothills where the currents of magic were weak and unstable. No wonder the egg was in such poor condition.


    Doomwing wove greater runes of protection around the egg and then allowed his magic to flow into it. The egg responded immediately, and the faint presence within it turned to him the way a flower turned to the sun or a man dying of thirst turned his face up to catch the rain in his mouth. The egg latched onto his magic and devoured it with almost draconic hunger. Doomwing had to moderate the flow of power, lest the egg consume too much too quickly and destroy itself.


    As it drew more and more power into itself, the phoenix egg took on a different appearance. Instead of a cracked lump of rock, it now resembled a black opal mostly black but studded here and there with radiant flashes of vivid colour, ranging from orange and red to blue, yellow, and green. His curved up into a smile.


    This was the egg of a stellar phoenix.


    Just as there were different types of dragons, there were different types of phoenixes. He had only met a stellar phoenix once. She had joined them in the fight against the Third Catastrophe and had departed shortly after his defeat. She had been a glorious creature, wreathed in stellar fire and with feathers like the night sky. She had called a torrent of stars from the heavens to bombard the leviathans and krakens that had raged in the seas below them.


    Was this the same phoenix? Perhaps.


    In any case, he could not be happier with his prize. A stellar phoenix could not only produce flames of immense heat but their flames also carried the power of the stars with them. What exactly that meant would depend on which stars in particular the stellar phoenix was associated with, and that would only be revealed once the phoenix hatched and got more acquainted with her powers.


    "Oh?"


    "We cannot properly read the writing on the hull, but some of the characters are similar to those we still use. We thought the name to be something like Determined Defender."


    "Not a bad translation," Doomwing replied. "Although not wholly accurate."


    "Aye." Harald ran one hand through his beard. "But you saw it, back when it could still fly?" His voice was filled with longing. "And there were others like it? You you said it guarded larger vessels. What were those like?"


    Doomwing considered his options for a moment and then smiled. "I could show you if you like, but you''d have to trust me."


    "Show me?" Harald swallowed thickly. "You could actually show me what this ship was like?"


    "Not just this ship. I could show you the last and greatest sky fleet of the Third Age."


    "Would I be harmed if you showed me?" Harald asked. "I have a responsibility to my people. I I greatly wish to see what you''ve spoken of, but I will not take any undue risks."


    "You will not be harmed." Doomwing leaned forward. "Tell me, Prince Harald, formerly of the Sky Claw Mountains, why are you out here? Why is a prince in such a desolate place with perhaps only a few hundred followers?" Doomwing had his suspicions, but Harald''s answer would help him craft a suitable plan to win over the dwarves.


    "What do you know of how dwarves view twins?" Harald asked.


    "In previous Ages, twins were viewed as bad luck," Doomwing replied. "I believe that view stems from some unpleasantness in the Second Age where one of the great dwarf kings had twin sons who got into a succession dispute that ended with thousands dead and the kingdom in flames."


    Harald blinked. "That I did not know." He shook himself. "In any case, you''re right about one thing. Twins are viewed as bad luck amongst dwarves, and it is often said that the younger twin must be watched closely, in case they plot against the elder to steal what isn''t theirs."


    "And you must be the younger twin."


    "Aye." Harald nodded. "My older brother is the king of the dwarves who dwell in the Sky Claw Mountains. He is a good man, and we were close growing up. But as we grew older, I was often approached by those who disliked their place in life."


    "I''m not sure whether I should find that sort of audacity infuriating or amusing. I assume you refused their offers."


    "I did." Harald smiled proudly. "I love my brother, and I knew he would be a good king. I had no desire to betray him. To his credit, my brother never believed I would turn against him. He appointed me as his chief advisor and gave me many important duties. However, that didn''t stop the talk"


    "Just the fact that you were approached made some distrust you."


    "That''s right. And over time, that talk grew harder and harder for my brother to ignore. He was king, but his power was not absolute. His supporters did not trust me, and he feared that the day was fast approaching when they would call for more strident measures to be taken, perhaps even without his permission."


    Doomwing snorted. "Or perhaps they simply disliked the influence you had on your brother and wished to remove you, so they could replace you with someone else."


    "Aye. That likely played a part too. When it became clear that either my brother would be forced to act or someone else would, I told my brother that I would leave the mountains. I have always had an interest in our ancient past, and one of our scouts had found a few bits and pieces in this area. I told him I would lead an expedition out here to see what could be found." Harald smiled bitterly. "He didn''t want me to leave. I could see it in his eyes. But I could also see how glad he was to have an answer to his problems. Not even the most zealous of his supporters could find fault with my leaving. Out here, I don''t have to worry about malcontents seeking me out, nor is it easy for my enemies to smuggle in assassins and saboteurs. I am, for all intents and purposes, out of sight and out of mind."


    Doomwing gave a low rumble of respect. "I cannot say that you made the best choice, but I cannot say that it was a bad choice either. Sometimes, there are no good choices."


    "Aye." Harald''s gaze grew distant. "My brother was a sickly child growing up, not much given to battle or even the arts of the forge. But he always had a good head on his shoulders. He knew how to make things run smoothly and how to help others excel. It was why I knew he''d be a good king. But it was why his enemies always looked to me for support." Harald clenched his fists. "I''m one of the best fighters amongst the dwarves, even in my old age, and there are precious few who can match me at the forge. In a time of war, I''d be a much better king than my brother, but we aren''t at war, and I have no desire to steal his birthright from him."


    "It is different for dragons," Doomwing replied. "Strength is what matters. We only keep what we have the strength to take and hold for ourselves."


    "You must have a lot then."


    "I would show you my hoard, but it would drive you to madness."


    Doomwing wasn''t lying about that either. Dwarves could be almost as greedy as dragons, and the one time he''d shown the full extent of his hoard to a dwarf, he''d been forced to wipe his memory of it afterward to prevent him from going mad. Ragnar had been a good friend, but the dwarf had been absolutely obsessed with magical weapons, and Doomwing had more than he knew what to do with. He''d gifted Ragnar with a fine axe that had been made in the First Age to make up for it although he''d very deliberately lied about the weapon''s origins, saying it was the only one he had, and not part of an armoury Doomwing had seized in the Second Age.


    "It might be worth it," Harald said. "But about the sky ship, you said you could show me it and many others, and that I would not be harmed."


    "I would cast a spell on you to make you fall asleep, and then I would show them to you in the form of a dream."


    "You can do that?" Harald asked.


    "Of course. I am Doomwing." Naturally, he''d only improved his dream walking recently, but there was no reason to let Harald know that. "So do you agree?"


    Harald glanced back at his honour guard and then nodded. "Aye. I agree. Do what you have to."

 Chapter 16: The Dwarf Dreams

    Chapter 16: The Dwarf Dreams


    As a boy, Harald had dreamed of flying. The dwarves of the Sky Claw Mountains maintained a cadre of roc riders, brave dwarves who rode on the large birds that nested amidst the peaks. The rocs were ornery creatures, but they were loyal to a fault once they''d chosen a rider. More than anything, he''d wanted to be chosen.


    And he had been.


    He had become one of the youngest roc riders in the history of his people, and he had spent as much time as he could up amidst the clouds. His brother had been happy for him despite not being chosen, but Bjorn had never dreamed of the sky and the clouds the way Harald had. Instead, his older brother had been happiest with both feet on the ground.


    Harald''s roc had been his best friend. Goldwing had chosen him when he had been little more than a hatchling, but he had grown quickly, as rocs were wont to do. Harald had doted on Goldwing almost as much as the bird''s own parents. Some had laughed at him, for although Harald was the youngest to ever be chosen by a roc, the roc that had chosen him was still too young to fly. Normally, only adult rocs chose riders.


    But none of the insults or the derision had mattered after he and Goldwing had flown together for the first time. It had not been an easy flight nor a graceful one, but Harald would never forget the experience. They had flown just before dawn, and they had watched the sunrise together.


    Harald had still been a young dwarf then, but he had thought he knew what it meant for the sun to rise. Yet seeing it from the air, seeing the horizon give way from black to orange, yellow, gold, and pink had been an experience unlike any other. The wind had been brisk that day, and the chill of the thin air high above the ground had clawed at his bones, but he had never felt better, more at peace than he had up there with only Goldwing for company.


    They had shared many battles, he and Goldwing, and they had won many victories. They''d lost too, of course, but those losses had only driven them to work harder and seek out new weapons or strategies. But dwarves lived longer than rocs, and the time came when Goldwing no longer had the strength to bear Harald up into the sky or even to fly alone.


    The roc had looked so ashamed of it, as though he had let Harald down somehow. Harald had done his best to reassure his old friend that he was not angry or disappointed. How could he be? Without Goldwing, he would never have soared through the skies at all. Time was a foe no one could defeat, and Goldwing was a victim of his own success. A lesser roc would have fallen in battle long before old age, but Goldwing had been too swift and skilled in the air to fall. Instead, he had lived long enough to know the weakness that came with the relentless passage of time.


    Goldwing had not lived much longer after that. Rocs were not meant to wither away upon the ground. They were meant to soar through the sky and cruise through the clouds. Harald stayed with him till the end, and then he had his friend''s body burnt in the dwarf way, with his ashes scattered from the tallest peak of the Sky Claw Mountains.


    It was common for roc riders to seek another mount when theirs passed away, but Harald could not bring himself to do it. He would find himself comparing each new roc to Goldwing, and always he would find them wanting. Still, he was proud when his children were each chosen by a roc, for they shared his dreams of the sky.


    It had been decades since Harald had flown, yet even in those long ago days, he had never flown so swiftly or so high as he did now.


    The sea below him was a blur that seemed to stretch to the horizon. Dark clouds had gathered to the south, and great bolts of lightning crackled from the heavens to the waters below. Yet no thunder reached his ears, and the islands he saw on the distant horizon seemed to reach him and then vanish behind him in a matter of moments as he raced northward.


    "What is this?" Harald whispered.


    Doomwing appeared beside him. "This is a memory of mine." The great dragon chuckled. "You have questions, dwarf. Ask them."


    "Is this how quickly you can fly?" Harald asked. "And the thunder why is there no thunder?"


    Doomwing smirked. "Which is faster, lightning or the thunder that follows it?"


    "Lightning, of course," Harald replied. "You see lightning first and only later does the thunder reach you."


    Doomwing''s smirk widened. "If you could outrace the thunder, would you ever hear it?"


    "You" Harald stared in awe. "You can fly faster than thunder?"


    "I am far beyond the lesser dragons of the Seventh Age. I am a primordial dragon. I was born in the First Age. This memory is from the Third Age, but even then, I was powerful beyond what you could imagine. The whelps of the Seventh Age use only their wings to fly. A true dragon uses every part of their being to fly. A dragon who has mastered their true nature cannot be caught by anything as slow as thunder."


    "Do you fly like that all the time?" Harald asked. Ancestors what he wouldn''t give to fly like that even once!


    "No." Doomwing chuckled. "It is more tiring than flying with just my wings. It is also very noisy and somewhat rude. People will assume that you mean to attack if you approach them with such speed."


    "I I see." Harald squinted. He could see something up ahead. It appeared to be a sky-whale. The beast had to be half a mile long, and it was surrounded by "Are those?" He swallowed thickly. "Are those sky ships?"


    "Yes." Doomwing smiled, and the world around them shifted. They were now looking down at another Doomwing, one who was substantially smaller than the winged titan Harald had met. "That is me from the Third Age. I was only about two thirds my current size back then."


    "You''re still enormous," Harald said. "Are you going to attack those sky ships?"


    "Why would I?" Doomwing laughed. "They belong to friends of mine. They called for me using magic since that beast they''re fighting is proving to be more troublesome than they expected. Pay close attention to the sky ships, dwarf. If you ever wish to restore the one you''ve found, you''ll need to make good use of what I show you."


    Harald nodded fiercely. "I will not forget a single moment of this."


    They closed in on the sky whale, and Harald finally got his first real look at the sky ships. They were each roughly five hundred feet long, and they bristled with cannons, harpoons, and other weapons. Fleet-footed dwarves ran back and forth across the decks whilst armoured dwarves prepared to leap onto the sky whale or take to the skies upat novelhall.com


    What caught his attention were the three sets of sails. One set was similar to the sails a normal ship might have whilst the other two were set out to the side like wings. Harald burned the sight of them into his mind, along with the elaborate networks of dwarven script that covered the hulls of the ships.


    "The sails are there to both absorb power from the currents of magic that flow through the sky and to use those same currents to propel the ships. They had engines that allowed them to move even outside of those currents, but it was usually best to rely on the sails when possible to conserve power."


    His vision of the sky ships changed. It was as if he could see through their exteriors, right into their very hearts. He realised that Doomwing was showing him what their interiors looked like, how all of the many mechanisms were designed. It would have been gibberish to most dwarves, but Harald had spent a century studying the ruins of the sky ship as they excavated it. He could not say he understood how it flew, but now, looking at the sky ships from this point of view, it was all falling into place.


    "Behold," Doomwing said. "The city that soared through the sky and sailed through the clouds. The dwarves called it Cloudhome, and the elves called it Skygrove. But I always called it Aurai."


    "Aurai?"


    "That was the name of the dryad who dreamed of the sky, the dryad whose powers made the city possible." Doomwing nodded at the gigantic tree. "That is her tree."


    Harald tried to take it all in the city, the sky ships, everything. "What what could have destroyed such a force?"


    For the sky ships and the city were not alone. Countless other ships were sailing on the seas below, and dragons, drakes, and other fliers filled the skies alongside the sky ships. The largest of the dragons were of similar size to Doomwing. Each of them could have devastated multiple kingdoms with ease, yet they had apparently encountered a foe so powerful that almost all of the forces gathered here would perish.


    "There." Doomwing gazed at the horizon. "There is our foe."


    The horizon was a single mass of storm clouds that seemed to span the world. Rain poured down, and the black clouds were riven by endless bolts of lightning. The sound of the thunder was a single sustained roar that never seemed to end. Amidst the storm were other fliers. There were dragons, drakes, wyverns, griffins, and all manner of other beasts to match those beside the sky ships. Yet there were also strange winged serpents that Harald had never seen before.


    And at the heart of the storm was a creature that Harald could barely believe was real.


    It resembled a serpent but with eight pairs of draconic wings spread along its body and that body must have measured twelve miles in length. It writhed through the storm, and each contortion of its body called down more thunder and lightning. Each roar that burst from its throat sent the seas below into a frenzy and sent the waves surging upward and onward, swallowing up island after island after island. Tidal waves raced across the surface of the sea from horizon to horizon, and only the use of powerful magic kept the fleets below from being utterly destroyed before the battle was joined in earnest.


    "Ancestors what what is that?" Harald whispered.


    "We called him the Lord of the Tides." Doomwing''s voice was filled with hate. "The wretched offspring of a tempest dragon and a tropical leviathan of the First Age. He hid when the Broken God declared war, and he hid when Mother Tree turned against us. He hid and he fed on the corpses of the slain that fell into the waters of the world. He fed and fed and fed, growing larger and stronger until, at last, he felt sure enough of his power to reveal himself. It was he who had driven the waters to rise, and it was he who wished to drown the world until only the oceans were left. He convinced many of the greatness of his vision, but we objected. Needless to say, negotiation was not possible."


    "What happened?"


    "We won," Doomwing said. "But the cost the cost was almost too much to bear. Aurai perished, and her people the dwarves and elves who loved the sky perished with her. True, a few survived, but their grief was such that they never dreamed of the sky again, and as the waters receded, they resolved to live as they had before the Third Age. Since then, no dwarf has ever dreamed of the sky until you."


    "This this is a tragedy." Tears rolled down Harald''s cheeks. "But to give up their dreams of the sky to just forget? I could never do that. Even though I have not flown since my roc, Goldwing, passed, I still dream of the sky. I still dream of flying. The sky ship we found if I could just fix it, I wouldn''t mind flying again."


    "It wouldn''t feel like betrayal," Doomwing murmured. "Because you would not be flying on another mount."


    "Yes." Harald nodded. "I could never ride on another mount, not after losing Goldwing. But on a ship? I could do that. But I don''t even know where to begin. How can we possibly regain all that was lost?"


    Doomwing chuckled. "I will tell you once we are out of this dream."


    The dream ended, and Harald found himself stumbling back to his feet and rubbing at his eyes. His cheeks were wet, but he was not ashamed. What dwarf would not have wept at seeing what they had lost?


    "You left your home because you did not wish to steal your brother''s birthright." Doomwing flared his wings majestically, and only magic kept Harald and the other dwarves from being tossed aside like leaves in a storm. "I have an offer for you, Prince Harald. I am Dragon Emperor Doomwing. I desire able subordinates of honour and skill." An image formed in the air beside him. It was cruder compared to the dream he had shown Harald, but there was no mistaking the rugged terrain and gleam of lava. "In my domain is a land of fire and rock. You know as well as I that great riches can be found where the molten blood of the earth bubbles forth. Serve me, Harald, and you will be a prince no longer. You will be a king, and you will answer only to me."


    Harald stared at the image, as did his honour guard. Doomwing spoke truly. The dwarves knew very well of the riches that could be unearthed in areas where the fiery blood of the world was exposed. "And what would you ask of me if I agreed?" he asked.


    "I need your people and their expertise. I wish for you to aid the others who serve me. My domain will need buildings, roads, and mechanical devices of many kinds. You and your people shall provide them. In exchange, I will give you lands rich with the bounty of the earth. You need not fear that the earth will break and spew fire upon you and yours. I am Doomwing. I command the earth and fire and stone in my domain. Where you choose to settle, I will ensure it is safe. You have my oath on that."


    It sounded almost too good to be true, but Harald could feel the ring of truth in the dragon''s words. Doomwing possessed strength beyond measure. If he wished, he could enslave them with ease. Why go to this extent unless he meant it?


    "Your offer is excellent."


    "It comes with a condition," Doomwing said. "You must prove yourself."


    "How?" Harald asked.


    "With this."


    The hills behind them gave way, and he gasped as Doomwing''s power ripped open the hillsides. The ruins of the sky ship were lifted clear of the dirt with great gentleness despite their weight, and more magic was used to bind the broken pieces back together. Scaffolding of rock rose up around the sky ship, supporting it and offering a way for the dwarves to access it.


    "All I have done is put the pieces back together. It is little more than a shell. It cannot fly." Doomwing gestured, and objects began to appear on the ground. "With these you will be able to repair the sky ship." The dragon''s lips curled. "And that shall be your test. I told you that you would see all you need to fix the sky ship in the dream I showed you. You have been studying and excavating this ship for a century. If you cannot fix it now, with what I have shown you and given you, then you were never worthy of flying it in the first place. I will be leaving now for the last part of my journey. I shall be back in a week. If you cannot fix it by then"


    "A week? That''s" Harald wanted to say it was impossible, but he had spent a century studying the sky ship''s pieces. With what he''d seen in the dream and the parts that he''d been given yes. He could already see how some of those parts might be used. And if he thought about what they''d learned of the ship from their studies, then more of the pieces fell into place. It would not be easy, but it would be possible. "We''ll do it."


    "If you do," Doomwing said. "Then the ship is yours to keep, and I will greet you not as a prince but as a king in my service." He took out a spherical object that resembled an enormous opal. "And if you need any further motivation, this is a phoenix egg. As a king in my service, you would have access to her flames. Think of what you could make with those."


    Harald thought, and then he shook himself and hurried toward the scaffolding that held up the sky ship. "Gather everyone!" he boomed. "We have a week to fix this ship!"

 Chapter 17: The Vampire Teaches A Lesson

    Chapter 17: The Vampire Teaches A Lesson


    "Do you want to know what the greatest problem with vampires is?" Marcus asked.


    Ivar remained silent, and Marcus bit back a smile. The young half-blood was one of the most magnificently skilled archers that Marcus had ever seen, but he was also a bit of a sourpuss. Oh well. Marcus knew better than most what an unfulfilled quest for vengeance did to somebody''s personality.


    Hopefully, he''d cheer up after tonight. Half-bloods might only live two or three times as long as humans, but he didn''t want the younger man to spend even that span of time all grumpy and resentful. Marcus had also come to quite like Ivar. The young man was skilled, went about his work without complaint, and was actually loyal a true rarity amongst vampires and those who associated with them.


    Ideally, Ivar would serve well until his age began to weary him before agreeing to be fully turned. If things went according to plan, he would make the jump straight up to elder vampire although a leap all the way to ancient vampire might be possible with the right preparations and a bit of luck. But he could worry about those later. Right now, they had an ancient vampire to kill and a coven to take over.


    "Please enlighten me, my lord." Ivar''s voice was rough from disuse and held just a touch of sarcasm.


    Marcus found it amusing. It reminded him of a puppy trying to posture like a wolf. As skilled as Ivar was, he was a long, long, long way from being able to threaten a proper ancient vampire in a fair fight, which was why he''d joined Marcus. If he ever wanted vengeance against the ancient vampire who had turned his mother while she''d been pregnant with him, then joining forces with another ancient was his best chance.


    "Treachery, Ivar. Treachery is the biggest problem with vampires." Marcus motioned for his forces to begin their encirclement of the enemy camp. In keeping with the enemy coven leader''s preference for hedonism over proper soldiery, the guards stationed around the camp were those fools either too unlucky or too unattractive to participate in the orgy taking place further in. Good grief. Orgies were a staple of vampire culture, but there was a time and place for everything. The middle of a warzone was not an appropriate place for an orgy. "Personally, I think it goes all the way back to the origin of the vampires."


    Ivar''s brows wrinkled, and he inclined his head in favour of actually asking his question.


    "Vampires first came to be early in the Third Age. It wasn''t easy for vampires back then. As you know, vampires do not enjoy living water. The weakest of our number cannot cross it, and it can easily weaken or immobilise even elder vampires if they are fully immersed. With the seas rising, the first vampires had to be very careful. I don''t know exactly how the first vampire the Progenitor came to be, but I do know that the first vampire personally created five vampires to serve him. They were different from the near-mindless thralls and ghouls that he had already made. They were, for all intents and purposes, the first true vampires other than him. They came to be known as the Council of Five."


    Marcus chuckled. "For much of the Third Age, there was no strife in the very first coven. They could ill afford to turn on one another when the rising waters put them all at risk. After the defeat of the Third Catastrophe, the seas began to recede. Those early vampires suddenly found themselves able to travel far more freely. And with that growing freedom came a stark realisation. You see, a bond exists between a vampire and those who are turned with their blood. The sire always has some level of mental influence over those they have turned. Some aspects of that influence are quite subtle. It makes the creator vampire appear more attractive and charismatic, and it makes their words sound much more persuasive and logical. However, it can also take much more direct forms."


    "You''re talking about direct mental compulsion," Ivar growled. "The creator vampire can give orders that are almost impossible to disobey."


    "Yes."


    The archer''s fists clenched. "I know all about that."


    "I imagine you do." Marcus could already see it. Gaius indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, but he also derived great pleasure in tormenting his foes. It was all too easy to imagine the other ancient allowing Ivar to get close only to use the blood link between them to force the half-blood to watch as he escaped, taking the young man''s mother with him. "Now, do you think the Council of Five would have been pleased when they realised just how much power over them the Progenitor had?"


    Ivar shook his head. His dealings with vampires had taught him that they chaffed at subservience unless they were richly rewarded. Even then, they were constantly scheming to rise up through the ranks.


    "The blood link is strongest between those who are directly related. In other words, a creator vampire has the most control over those they have turned personally. They have less control over the vampires that are turned by their subordinates. The Council of Five planned for centuries, establishing covens of their own and then turning on the Progenitor. At great cost, they eventually emerged triumphant. As the oldest remaining vampires, there was no one who could control them. And to make sure that none of their subordinates got any ideas about overthrowing them, they used the Progenitor''s blood to weave a powerful magic that made it impossible for those they had turned to go against them."


    "Are the Council of Five still alive?" Ivar asked quietly. "Because if they are, they need to die."


    "They are all dead," Marcus replied. "My father was one of them, and he killed the others during the Fourth Age. Now, before you thank him, you need to realise that he didn''t do it out of altruism. On the contrary, it was another case of treachery. You see, it occurred to him that although the Council of Five had all been personally turned by the Progenitor, they were not all equally powerful. He was perhaps the least of them, albeit the one most skilled in rituals and esoteric magic. Rather than being happy about being one of the five most powerful vampires in the world, my father wanted to become the most powerful vampire in the world."


    "Of course, he did."


    "Yes, my father was a total bastard. He convinced the other members of the Council of Five that they could perform another ritual and transcend their status as ancient vampires to become primordial vampires." Marcus made a disgusted sound. "As you can imagine, the other members of the Council were intrigued. What was the cost? Well, all they had to do was to sacrifice their covens in another grand ritual."


    Ivar scoffed.


    "Yes, he was asking them to commit more treachery. They didn''t hesitate. They were as greedy for power as he was. But unbeknownst to them, my father went to their covens and informed them of their impending treachery. He praised their loyalty and hard work and said it would be a shame if they were to fall victim to such schemers. Instead, he asked them to go along with the ritual and that he would reverse its effects, sacrificing the other members of the Council and helping all of them ascend into ancients."


    "And they believed him?"


    "My father could be very charming when he put his mind to it," Marcus said. "He could make you believe the sky was purple or the sun shone green, he was that persuasive. But unbeknownst to both groups, he had modified the ritual to sacrifice all of them to turn himself and only himself into a primordial vampire." Marcus laughed. "It would almost be funny, you know, if he hadn''t become the Fourth Catastrophe afterward. My father succeeded. In a single ritual, he wiped out the other members of the Council of Five, as well as their covens, and ascended into a vampire more powerful than any other in history a vampire so strong that he soon came to threaten the entire world."


    "What of his coven?" Ivar asked.


    "Oh, he sacrificed them too. My father was well aware of the treachery they had planned against him and used their desires to supplant him to include them in the ritual. The only reason I survived was my paranoia. My father made the mistake of being nice to me. He was never nice to me unless he wanted something."


    "You son of a bitch," Gaius hissed. "Do you really think you''ll get away with this?"


    "Absolutely." Marcus laughed. "I mean who''s going to stop me?" He looked around. "Any takers?" Not surprisingly, nobody spoke up for Gaius. "I''m going to turn this land into a vampire kingdom, and it''s going to be a vampire kingdom free of the treachery, hedonism, and general idiocy that has doomed our species for centuries."


    "Do you know how many of us you''ll have to kill to make that work?" Gaius growled.


    "I estimate I''ll have to kill at least twenty ancients before the rest fall into line. After that? I''ll probably have to kill at least one or two a century for the first few hundred years before everybody finally gets the message. But I thought I''d start with you." Marcus turned to Ivar. "You''ve got more reason to kill him than me. Would you like to do anything before I strike him down."


    Ivar didn''t bother to reply. Instead, his hands flashed into motion, and it wasn''t long before Gaius resembled a pin cushion from all the arrows sticking out of him.


    "That''ll have to do," Ivar growled. "He is an ancient who has lived for more than three thousand years. I don''t have the power to kill him. You do. Seeing him die will have to be enough."


    Marcus nodded. The older an ancient was, the harder it was to keep them dead. Even if Ivar destroyed Gaius''s body completely, the other vampire''s spirit would linger, and it would only be a matter of time before his body reformed or he possessed the body of one of his subordinates. However, Marcus was capable of truly killing even an ancient like Gaius.


    "Any last words?" Marcus asked.


    Gaius blubbered uselessly through his ruined mouth.


    "Ah, you can''t speak. Well, goodbye, Gaius."


    Marcus reached deep into his very being and called for one of the ancient runes he knew. It was a rune of true death, something he had learned from Doomwing. As the primordial dragon put it, there were times when you needed to make sure that something stayed dead, and this rune was for those times.


    Gaius tried to muster his powers to defend himself, but Marcus struck out with a handful of greater runes that shattered his body and disrupted his magic. Had Gaius kept himself in fighting shape, this might actually have been a battle. Instead, he''d fallen prey to his own vices.


    The rune took a while to set up, and so Marcus contented himself with whistling a happy tune before it finally snapped into place and Gaius died. It was not a pretty death. There was plenty of screaming and wailing, and a great deal of thrashing, writhing, and shuddering. But the end result was that Gaius died, and his body disintegrated. There was nothing left of him, not an ounce of his spirit or magic remained. He was as dead as anything could be.


    "Ivar," Marcus said as he noticed a familiar woman huddled in a corner. "Over there."


    The young man''s eyes widened. "Mother"


    They had both expected her to be dead. Gaius was not known for keeping people around once he had lost interest in them.


    "Go to her," Marcus said. "She will need you in the days to come."


    As Ivar hurried off to his mother, Marcus turned to greet the only other ancient vampire in Gaius''s camp. The other vampire was dressed in a simple grey tunic, and his dark hair was kept well-trimmed. The glasses on his face were likely an affectation from his time amongst the living. All ancient vampires had inhumanly keen vision.


    "It''s been a while, Marcus." Quintus sighed. "I suppose this is where you kill me too."


    "Please," Marcus drawled. "Why would I do that?"


    "Because I served Gaius for centuries."


    "He turned you, Quintus. It wasn''t as though you could easily disobey. Besides, despite your personal dislike of him, you served him loyally and well. It was only your excellent administration that allowed him to indulge in so many vices. Without you, he''d have gone bankrupt years ago. You also surrendered to my men rather than trying to fight your way through them. You could have you are an ancient."


    "And then what?" Quintus asked. "Say I killed your men, I''d then have to deal with you and the elders who serve you. I might get away, but where would I go? I''d have nothing but the clothes on my back. I suppose I could start over, but this place this is going to be the new vampire homeland. Where could I go that would be better than here?"


    "And that is why I won''t be killing you, Quintus." Marcus grinned. "You''re an excellent administrator, and I find myself in dire need of someone to help with that side of things. Moreover, you are loyal to those you serve, and you think logically with an eye to the long-term consequences of your decisions. Gaius is dead. There is no one left who can control you. Instead, I ask you to serve me. I will become the king of this land, and you can become one of my trusted advisors. You must have dreams that you could never fulfil while you were forced to handle things for Gaius. Join me, and you''ll see those dreams fulfilled. All I ask from you is your loyalty, and I would like to think I''m more deserving of it than Gaius."


    Quintus looked at him for a long moment. "I could do that."


    "Good." Marcus smiled. "Now, help me sort through all the people here in this camp. I need to know who can be trusted and who should be dealt with."

 Chapter 18: The Dragon Meets Some Unusual People

    Chapter 18: The Dragon Meets Some Unusual People


    Doomwing approached the final stop on his trip. Below him, the open plains and rugged hills had given way to the coast. An estuary filled with mangrove trees and brackish water lay below him, the twisted forms of the mangroves far taller and sturdier than they ought to be. Merfolk swam through the water, some heading out to sea whilst others went upriver.


    The merfolk who lived in the lightless depths of the ocean could not survive for long in freshwater. However, their coastal kin were better able to handle the transition. Some could survive for days at a time in rivers, lakes, and streams. Others, however, were blessed with the ability to live freely in both freshwater and saltwater.


    He had encountered his fair share of merfolk over the many years of his life. He had even spent time with them since he knew dozens of ways to breathe underwater using magic. After the debacle of the Third Catastrophe, he had endeavoured to shore up his weaknesses and had learned all he could from their tide mages and water weavers. They had been in no position to refuse, not after their involvement with that overgrown eel.


    He glided closer to the surface of the sea and flew in a lazy circle around the titanic mangrove tree that stood sentry over the estuary, its proud roots forming great arches that spanned the mouth of the river whilst its branches cast shadows that spread for miles. The merfolk huddled amidst the roots, watching him with wary eyes. Many of them were children with all manner of trinkets clutched in their hands pieces of coral, shells, and even scales from various aquatic creatures.


    The dryad sitting with her legs dangling into the water and a merfolk child on either side stared up at him. Her skin was the colour of freshly cut mangrove wood, and her eyes were the blue-black of the deepest reaches of the sea. A floppy hat woven of dried seaweed sat upon her head, and her hair hung like kelp past her shoulders in varying shades of brown, yellow, and green.


    "You are being obnoxious," she drawled. "And you are scaring the children."


    Doomwing took a moment to make sure that there were no merfolk beneath him and then landed in the waters nearby. "You remain as eccentric as ever, Rhizophora. Are you not worried that I will attack?"


    The dryad shrugged. "And if you attacked with your full strength, what could I do? I am not one of the First Daughters who might, at least for a time, stand against you. I am a Third Daughter a great-granddaughter of Mother Tree. I was born at the beginning of the Sixth Age. Even on my best day, I could not beat you on your worst day."


    "True."


    "And you are no coward who strikes down helpless children and those who have not wronged you." Rhizophora smiled faintly. "Your temper may burn hot, for you are a dragon, but you are no butcher."


    "There is that."


    Doomwing looked down at the merfolk children. How easy it would be to slay them all. It would take scarcely a thought to stain these waters with their blood. There had been a time when the pain of Ragnar''s death had still cut deep when he would have been tempted.


    His friend had died as nobly as any dwarf could wish for, but he had died all the same. Doomwing had wanted him to live, to die an old dwarf in a gilded hall filled with his children and grandchildren. But Ragnar had died screaming his defiance, with no wife or children to speak of. They had perished before the final battle, their sky ship struck down by the Lord of Tides himself when he first emerged from the depths of the ocean.


    Ragnar had lived, at least in body. But Doomwing had seen the grief clawing at his friend''s soul, and he had known that Ragnar''s heart had died alongside his wife and children. Only vengeance had kept him going. Yet at the end, Ragnar had forgone his chance at vengeance to buy Doomwing less than a heartbeat of time.


    Doomwing had used that time well. Ragnar had been avenged, and Doomwing had screamed his hate and rage and sorrow into the very face of the Lord of Tides.


    In the aftermath of the battle, he had looked upon the merfolk who had cast their lot in with his enemy, and he had been filled with wrath. The urge to strike them down, to boil the seas, and unleash runes of devastation upon them had been almost more than he could bear. Why should they live when his friend was dead? Why should they be allowed to return to their cities when Aurai was gone and the elves and dwarves who had sought the skies were no more?


    But Dawnscale had stayed his hand. What choice had the merfolk really had? To defy the Lord of the Tides would have meant death for them all. There had been enough bloodshed. Let them slink back to their cities of coral and monolithic stone, let them grieve for the countless losses they had already taken.


    In time, Doomwing came to understand that there was some truth to her words. Some of the merfolk had undoubtedly joined the Lord of Tides with great enthusiasm, revelling in the chance to drown the world and expand their domains. Others had looked with horror upon the devastation being wrought upon the surface, but they could not afford to rebel. They would have been slaughtered if they had tried.


    That did not excuse them. A dragon would have preferred death than forced obedience. The First Age had shown that. His fellows had died in droves fighting the Broken God, but they had died rather than kneel. Merfolk were not dragons. Their hearts were not forged of sun fire. They were weak and fragile. They feared death where a dragon would instead fear a life of servitude.


    And he had come to know them better in the years he spent with them. There were good merfolk amongst them, those who were worthy of his respect. His fury had cooled over the years, his wrath reserved now for his dead foe and any who sought to repeat his mistakes.


    "You should smile," Rhizophora said. "It might soothe the children."


    Doomwing smiled. The children wailed and hid their faces with the two beside the dryad clinging onto her and burying their faces into her sides.


    "Or not. I had almost forgotten how toothy a dragon''s smile is." Rhizophora sighed. "Fear not, children. Doomwing means you no harm. He is simply here to visit me. We are old friends, you see, or at least old acquaintances."


    "I can sense your tree folk nearby. May I see them?" It was a courtesy. He could use magic to force them out into the open or to cancel their concealment, but there was no need to be rude when she had been accommodating so far.


    Rhizophora smiled. "If you like."


    Several mangrove trees stood up, and Doomwing tilted his head. They were not the largest tree folk he had ever seen, but their concealment had been excellent. From the looks of them, they could extend their roots and branches like great spears or shoot spines of hardened wood at more distant foes. Most intriguing, however, were the many, many, many toxins they were able to produce, some of which even he hadn''t encountered before. How fascinating.


    "You''ve adapted toxins from aquatic creatures and then combined them with plant toxins to create completely new varieties. Impressive." And he meant it. Too many dryads were content with minor improvements. To create entirely new toxins was no easy feat, especially for a dryad born in the Sixth Age.


    "The seas are home to many interesting creatures, a great many of which are either venomous, poisonous, or sometimes both." Rhizophora waved around a fishing rod. "I also enjoy fishing although I have to be mindful, lest any of the children find themselves caught on my line." She smiled. "You''d be surprised by how many of them forget themselves when they see the bait I use."


    "I can imagine." Doomwing could remember getting into trouble many times as a hatchling, quite often because of his desire to fill his belly. Young dragon grew swiftly, but that growth meant they were almost always hungry.


    "You''re here for plants and tree folk, I suppose." She sighed. "Anthracia told me you might be headed my way."


    "Did she now?"


    "Every now and then, one of her elves will get curious about the sea. It''s not unusual for them to find their way here. I look after them, and they bring me gifts." Rhizophora smiled. "I love my mangroves, but there are not many flowers here."


    "Because I have an array of awesome powers, I rarely need to rely on alchemy, unlike you." Doomwing grinned. "I still remember the look on Marcus''s face when he came back. That was his manor you were conducting experiments in. It was a miracle nobody was killed. Oh wait. It wasn''t a miracle. I made sure nobody was killed because I''m awesome unlike you."


    "" Faustina made a face. "I told him I was sorry. It was way back in the Fifth Age too. Is he still not over it?"


    "You could have offered to pay for it."


    "I used all of my money on alchemical ingredients." Faustina shook her fist at him. "I was so close to creating sanguine-steel." She glared at him viciously. "And then you just had to go and make that stupid sword of his completely out of the stuff."


    "I got sick of watching you fail. It was funny for a while, but then it just started to get sad." Doomwing laughed. "Have you worked out how to make it yet?"


    "Yes," Faustina hissed. "It took me another five hundred years, but I worked out how to make it."


    "I notice that you''re not carrying any around with you," Doomwing pointed out.


    "It turns out you need the scales of a primordial dragon to make the best quality sanguine-steel." She batted her eyelashes in what was probably supposed to be a beguiling manner. "So?"


    "Not happening. I actually like Marcus, which is why I made him his sword. I tolerate you, which is why you get nothing," Doomwing said. "Why are you even down here?"


    "I am trying to make flow-steel." Faustina folded her arms across her chest. "It is a material that can alter its shape at will yet harden to take on the same physical properties as the very mightiest of metals. I have reason to believe that several of the key ingredients can be found here. I have purchased them and intend to try my luck at making it."


    "You know, I could tell you"


    "Don''t you dare!" Faustina shrieked. "There''s no sense of accomplishment if you just tell me the answer!" She scowled. "Why are you here anyway? Are you here just to torment me?"


    "Do you really think I''d go out of my way to torment you?" The flat look she gave him told him exactly what she thought. "If you must know, I''m running a few errands. However, I am curious do you not know what''s happening in the far north?"


    "The far north?" Faustina shook her head. "Not a clue, and I don''t really care. Apart from flow-steel, I''m also investigating a number of interesting materials that can only be crafted using components from this region. That dryad has been surprisingly accommodating in exchange for me making a few things for her."


    "An umbral veil has formed in the far north. It covers several kingdoms'' worth of land."


    She stared at him in disbelief. "Bullshit."


    He laughed. "Not at all. It was created when I killed a shadow dragon and dumped the body."


    "" She squinted at him. "Do you know how much of the body is left because there are a lot of things I could do with the body of a shadow dragon?"


    "Since an umbral veil has formed, I would say the body has been consumed to create it. However, the area is currently being fought over by almost every ancient of reasonable power, including Marcus."


    "An umbral veil, huh?" Faustina rubbed her chin. "I''ve never seen one before. The vampire homelands were destroyed before I was born. I would really like to study it" She grinned craftily. "Do you think Marcus would give me free rein to study it and carry out my research if I helped him win?"


    "You''d have to ask him." Doomwing managed to keep from cackling. This was exactly what he wanted. Ah if only he could watch the chaos unfold when Faustina showed up. His criticisms aside, Faustina was one of the most brilliant alchemists he''d ever met. She was definitely the best vampire alchemist he''d ever met, and the only people he knew who were more skilled and knowledgeable were people like him who had Ages of extra experience to draw on.


    "Hmm the far north is pretty far, but if I leave right now and I use that thing I made" She trailed off, muttering to herself incomprehensibly. She shook herself and then nodded to the merfolk shaman. "I''m afraid I''ll be leaving a bit early."


    The shaman, who had watched their exchange with amusement, laughed. "You have already settled payment with us. You may leave whenever you wish."


    "Thanks." Faustina grinned. "If I help Marcus win, he''ll have to reward me. I have been running low on funds lately, so I can get him to set up a research academy for me. I''ll have my own minions, and I can probably badger him into coughing up regular funding. Heh. This solves all my problems." She nodded at Doomwing. "Thanks for telling me." Her eyes narrowed. "But what''s in it for you?"


    "Your eccentricity aside, you will be of great use to Marcus." Doomwing could probably finagle his mirror into letting him observe Marcus without the vampire knowing. Yes, with the right modifications, he should even be able to broadcast what the mirror saw to his location, so he wouldn''t have to stay in his volcano all the time or bring his mirror with him. "That is reward enough for me."


    "You big softie," Faustina said before she vanished in a sudden burst of magic.


    The shaman blinked. "What just happened?"


    "She used a teleportation charm. It brought her back to the surface not far from the mouth of the estuary." He sharpened his senses further. "And now she''s transforming into a group of bats and flying north."


    "Can vampires do that?" The shaman made a face. "I''ve only met two vampires, but that seems very strange."


    "Different vampire lineages specialise in different things." Marcus''s lineage specialised in illusions, mind control, and leadership. It was one of the reason he hadn''t fallen prey to Kagami''s pre-emptive strike. "Her particular lineage is known for shape-shifting, usually into bats, wolves, or other such animals."


    "Interesting." The shaman stared at Doomwing. "Do you need anything from us? We''d be happy to help if you do."


    Doomwing considered the question. He did have a few things he wouldn''t mind picking up while he was here. "Actually"

 Chapter 19: The Fox And The Dream

    Chapter 19: The Fox And The Dream


    The lands of the kitsune straddled the borders of the physical world and the dreaming lands. Hikari''s people had come here in the aftermath of the Fifth Catastrophe, desperate for safe haven after almost being wiped out by first the Exiled Star and then those who hated them for the part they''d played in summoning the vile creature from the Greater Darkness.


    There, her people had met Dreamsong. The muse dragon could easily have destroyed them. She was, after all, a primordial dragon, a being who had witnessed the glories of the First Age and the terror of the Broken God. Instead, Dreamsong had taken them under her wing. She had sheltered them, trained them, and done her best to help them recover from the mistakes of the Fifth Age.


    And then Hikari''s mother had betrayed her and become the Sixth Catastrophe. Even then, Dreamsong had been unable to raise a hand against her, for she had loved Hikari''s mother as though she were her own daughter. It had fallen to others to strike her mother down, and as right as they had been to do so, there was a part of Hikari that could not help but hate them.


    She could still remember those far off days, back when she had been so very young and so very sure that the world was a place of hope and wonder and joy. Her father''s shoulders had been so broad, and the grey in his hair had made him seem dashing instead of weary. Those had been good days, perhaps the very best days of her life.


    That palace by the lake with her mother and father and all her friends even now, there were still days when she wished she could go back there and live in those golden years forever. But those days were gone. Her mother had chosen her path, and others had chosen to stand against her.


    The last time she''d seen her Uncle Doomwing, the mighty dragon had been clinging to life, wounded almost to his death by a spear of god-metal that her mother had somehow managed to obtain. He had destroyed the spear and laid low her mother, but the effort of it had all but killed him. Her Uncle Marcus had stood sentry over him, doing everything he could to heal him.


    Hikari had wanted to go to them, to offer what aid she could, but all she could see was the wrath in the vampire''s gaze, the savage fury within him as he drained himself and his sword of every scrap of power he could spare. Not far from them, surrounded by mountains of the dead, was her father.


    She had seen him fall, had seen him blind and bereft of any weapons save his fists. The sight of it still haunted her dreams from time to time.


    And what had she done during that final battle?


    Nothing.


    She had done nothing.


    She had loved her mother, had loved her and idolised her and thought her the most wonderful and amazing person in the whole world. To see what she became, to see the choices that she made Hikari had always wondered if there had been something she could have done. Had she missed some sign of her mother''s growing obsession? Had there been a moment, however fleeting, when words would have been enough to stay her hand?


    She had not been able to bring herself to fight her mother, no matter what sort of person she had become.


    Yet Hikari had not agreed with her mother''s course of action. Even as her kitsune kin had clamoured to support her mother and set aside their mischievous but peaceful ways in favour of war and treachery, she had not joined them. Instead, she had hidden herself and fled.


    She had been too much of a coward to stop her mother, and she could not stomach the thought of joining her. Instead, she had watched as her mother tore the world apart, only to be faced by a coalition led by her father and her friends. In the end, both of her parents had died, many of her friends had been wounded, and all she had done was watch.


    The shame of it the absolute and unbearable shame of it


    Her thoughts had taken her to dark places then until, in the midst of yet another nightmare, Dreamsong had reached out to her. The dragon was wracked with grief. She had seen someone she viewed as a daughter die, and she had feared Hikari lost as well.


    "Come home," Dreamsong had begged her. "The kitsune need you."


    Unspoken was how much Dreamsong needed her and how much Hikari needed the dragon.


    So Hikari had gone home. She had arrived to find the lands of the kitsune in complete disarray. Kagami had been the leader of the kitsune, and her death had left Hikari''s half-siblings squabbling for the right to succeed her.


    It sickened her. Her mother had once had more than a dozen children, hardly surprising given how old she had been. Only four of them, including Hikari, had survived. The others had all perished, either at her mother''s side or fighting against her. Her three half-siblings had already formed factions and were tearing at each other like jackals fighting over the scraps left by a lion.


    Hikari had planned to stay out of the succession dispute, but then she had seen the madness that lurked in her half-siblings'' eyes. She had seen it before in her mother''s eyes. They spoke of mustering what strength they could and striking while the rest of the world struggled to recover. They were few in number, yes, but their enemies had taken massive casualties. Already, the great kingdom her father had forged was disintegrating as her other half-siblings fought each other in defiance of his will and testament.


    Hikari had made a decision then because she could not have lived with herself if she had failed a second time. She had challenged for leadership, and with Dreamsong''s help and tutelage, she had won. She had forced her half-siblings to kneel, and they had been made to obey.


    She was younger than all of them, yes, but the blood that flowed through her veins was mighty. She did not know who their fathers had been her mother had never told her although she had always left offerings for them on the anniversaries of their deaths but Hikari''s father had been Elerion the Valiant, the greatest of human kings and a hero known throughout the world.


    The power a kitsune wielded was shown by how many tails they had. Her mother had possessed nine, and her sheer power had rendered her immune to the passage of time. Her mother had not aged a day in thousands of years, and only death in battle had put an end to her life. Hikari had possessed two tails when her mother had turned against the world. By the time her mother was dead and the Sixth Age came to an end, she had possessed three.


    During the succession dispute which had taken almost a century to complete, Hikari had allowed Dreamsong to train her even more harshly than she had trained her mother. She had become the youngest kitsune ever to reach five tails, and that had given her the power she needed to make her half-siblings surrender.This chapter is updated by


    They had grown lazy and overconfident, certain that none could oppose them. The higher ranks of the kitsune including her older and stronger siblings had all perished in the final battle of the Sixth Age.


    It had been roughly a thousand years since her mother''s passing, and Hikari had not slacked in her training or pursuit of power. She needed to be strong enough that none could challenge her leadership. She would not allow the mistakes of the past to be repeated. She would ensure that when the kitsune finally left their seclusion and re-entered the world, it would be as a benevolent force that respected free will and the right of others to choose their own fate. They would not hold themselves above others but would see them as partners.


    "For what reason?" Hikari asked quietly. "Has he fallen?" If Doomwing were to fall prey to the same mistakes as her mother, it would be disastrous.


    Dreamsong chuckled. "No. Boredom."


    "Boredom?" Hikari asked incredulously. "He is building an empire because he is bored?"


    "Yes and because he wishes to outdo Marcus."


    Despite the gravity of the situation, Hikari couldn''t help but laugh. "Those two idiots," she said, her voice heavy with fondness. Elsewhere, she might have tried to conceal her emotions, but not here. Here, in the deep dreaming, all desire were laid bare. Even without looking, Hikari knew that behind her stood wispy outlines of her mother, father, and friends relics of those brief years when the world had been pure and perfect. "That would be just like them."


    "An umbral veil has appeared in the far north. I believe Marcus means to make a kingdom there, a new vampire homeland to replace what was lost."


    "Didn''t Doomwing blow up the old vampire homelands?" Hikari asked.


    Dreamsong nodded. "In his defence, we all agreed to it. It was the best option at the time."


    "Is that so?"


    In terms of raw destructive power, Doomwing might be the most gifted of the primordial dragons once his magic was taken into account. Frostfang could have done it. The winter dragon rarely left the far north since he could freeze entire kingdoms if he wasn''t careful. There was also Ashheart. The tectonic dragon was the largest of the primordial dragons, perhaps half again as large as Doomwing, but he was also the slowest and worst at flying. Yet his was the might of the burning heart of the earth, and Doomwing had once told her of how he could heave up mountains with his power or tear great rifts in the earth that could swallow whole kingdoms.


    Yes, every single one of the primordial dragons could have destroyed the vampire homelands, but perhaps only Doomwing could have done it so quickly and so utterly. The umbral veil that had protected those lands had shattered like glass, and his magic had torn through the air, the ground, and even the water, sundering and breaking, tearing root and branch, leaving only silence and absolute desolation in its wake.


    That had been at the end of the Fourth Age.


    It had taken until the middle of the Sixth Age before anything had grown there again, and even then, it had only been weeds of the most stunted and twisted variety. From what Dreamsong had told her, several enterprising dryads had taken root there recently, and they were having some success in restoring the land to some semblance of normalcy although it would likely take another thousand years before anything of worth could grow there without their aid.


    "The Fourth Catastrophe was stronger than you would think and far more vicious. He had learned to draw strength from the very land itself, binding himself to the vampire homelands to add to his already misbegotten powers. Destroying them so utterly was an important way of weakening him and dealing with many of his followers." Dreamsong''s gaze turned distant. "Though it pained me to see part of the dreaming lands go silent. Vampires dream, you know, and not all of their dreams were cruel."


    "So Doomwing is establishing an empire for himself, as is Marcus. Is that all you wished to tell me?" Hikari asked.


    "The time is soon approaching when you will reveal the kitsune to the world again." Dreamsong had not asked her about it, but she knew of it all the same. After all, Hikari had dreamt of little else recently. "You will need allies in the world, people to vouch for you and yours."


    "And you would have me seek out Doomwing and Marcus?" Hikari stiffened. "I" She had lived more than a thousand years, yet the thought of seeing those two again had her feeling like a small child a child who had done wrong and did not wish to face it. "I do not know if I can. I did not stand with them."


    "Nor did I," Dreamsong said, her voice a low, mournful sound like the crashing of the tides against some distant shore of tumbled cliffs and broken stones. "And yet if I spoke to Doomwing now, I know he would not turn me away."


    "You have known him since the First Age. I knew him for less than two decades."


    "Despite how he may act or what he may say, Doomwing has had many friends over the years." Dreamsong''s coils gleamed purple in the twilight, and for a moment, they were somewhere else, and the great dragon''s hoard lay about them. The greatest of her treasures were memories and dreams caught turned into crystals that could be viewed and experienced on a whim. The moment passed, and they were once more beside the shadow of Mother Tree, and Hikari had to fight to keep from asking for memories of the good days, for the crystals that contained moments forever lost to the passage of time. "But almost all of his friends are dead, Hikari. I think he would be pleased to know that even one more of them still lives and is well."


    "I" Hikari took a deep, deep breath. If she was going to bring the kitsune back into the world, then she would, at some point, have to meet with Doomwing and Marcus. "I shall consider it."


    "He is training someone," Dreamsong said. "A young woman with eyes like your father and dreams like his. She even broke her leg kicking his construct out of frustration."


    Hikari chuckled. That had happened to her father, and he had never stopped complaining about it. "Is she?"


    "A distant descendant, but his blood flows more truly in her than it has in many others."


    "As I said, I will consider it." Hikari turned, but not before catching a glimpse of the current of desire trailing after Dreamsong. "And perhaps you should leave this place for a time as well. It has been a long time since you''ve seen your fellows."


    Dreamsong stilled, and then her sinuous body moved, gliding across the ground in almost serpentine fashion. "Perhaps the north. There are new dreams there from hatchlings with hearts of winter ice. It would be remiss of me to not visit at least once before they are grown and leave the nest."


    Hikari had just left the dreaming lands and walked back through the ornate arch when she realised what Dreamsong''s words meant.


    "Frostfang has hatchlings?" She snorted inelegantly, ignoring the shocked stares from the two kitsune standing guard. "Good luck, Marcus. Hopefully, they don''t cause you any trouble."

 Chapter 20: The Ship Takes Flight

    Chapter 20: The Ship Takes Flight


    Doomwing looked upon the sky ship. A week had passed since he had last seen it, and the dwarves had been hard at work. His magic had put the pieces together, but the process had been rough at best. The dwarves had painstakingly worked on the joins, hammering, welding, and using all manner of magic to ensure that that the sky ship was well and truly back in one piece.


    The ancient dwarven script on the hull and throughout the sky ship had been restored. Gone were the faded etchings and time-worn symbols. Instead, they had been carved anew and filled in with fresh ink crafted from materials designed to conduct magic and contain spell craft. The sails had been replaced, and the complicated mechanisms of the interior had been restored or replaced with incredible attention to detail.


    The parts he had given the dwarves had all been carefully matched and fitted into the correct positions, and the scaffolds bustled with activity as the dwarves continued to work on the vessel. But for all their efforts, the sky ship was still on the ground. Despite how far they had come, despite the exhaustion that filled their bodies and the immense effort they''d put into everything, the sky ship remained stubbornly unable to fly.


    "I see that you have failed," Doomwing drawled as Prince Harald came forward to greet him.


    "Great Doomwing" The prince was shamefaced. "We have done everything we can, but you are right. We have failed. We gave it everything we had I want you to know that but it was not enough. We we are not worthy of this ship."


    Doomwing stared down at the dwarf. For a moment, he saw the dwarves of an Age long gone, bright-eyed and resolute, their hearts and minds turned to the sky and the endless horizon. What would they think of this distant descendant of their land-bound kin? Would they praise his efforts, or would they mock his failure?


    His lips curled. He knew what they would do, and it was that knowledge that allowed him to soften his tone ever so slightly when he replied.


    "I gave you an impossible task, Harald. You could never have succeeded."


    The dwarf looked up at him. "You did?"


    Doomwing gestured at the sky ship. "The work that you and your followers have done is worthy of praise. The makers of this vessel would be proud of what you have accomplished. However, this sky ship was never going to leave the ground."


    "Why?" Harald asked. "Was it something we did?"


    "No." Doomwing shook his head. "You must have grasped the general idea of how the sky ship operates. Explain it to me."


    Harald nodded quickly. "Aye. The dwarven script on the vessel lightens how much it weighs. The spell-stones within the ship reduce or even cancel the effects of gravity while the spell-stones on the exterior of the ship produce the forces required to first lift the ship into the sky and then propel it. The sails can also be used to fly, but they require a strong magical current to be effective, and we do not have one here." Harald bit his lip. "We tried to activate the spell-stones, but we were never able to keep them active for more than a second or two."


    "There is a reason for that." Doomwing gestured, and an image appeared beside him. "In essence, the spell-stones crystallise a particular spell, allowing it to be used when sufficient magic is run through them. The problem is that spell-stones of this size and power require a significant investment of magical energy before they are properly primed and ready for use. Without that energy, they will stutter and fail when activated. However, once active, the actual expenditure of magic is more manageable."


    Harald''s eyes widened. "No wonder the magical conduits leading from the core of the ship to the spell-stones are so thick! They would need to be that thick in order to withstand the massive surge of power required to activate the spell-stones."


    "Precisely," Doomwing said. "The core of the ship is a crystal designed to store vast quantities of magical power. You may have noticed that the controls allow for both the steady release of lower quantities of magic and the sudden dumping of huge quantities of magic. The former is for when the sky ship is already aloft whereas the latter is for activating the spell-stones for flight. In truth, however, it was common practice to leave the spell-stones active whenever possible to minimise wear and tear on the crystal."


    Harald ran a hand through his beard. "If we set up equipment to collect magical energy from our surroundings, we should be able to collect enough energy to activate the spell-stones in perhaps a month or so"


    "Why wait a month?" Doomwing chuckled. "You did not succeed but you achieved far more than I expected. I had thought I would come back to a half-finished sky ship, and I would still have been content with that. To see you get this far I can only praise your hard work and skill. I have no desire to wait a month. I will charge the crystal myself."


    "Oh!" Harald bowed low. "Thank you, great Doomwing!"


    "Think nothing of it." The dragon smiled faintly. "It has been too long, I think, since a sky ship sailed through the clouds."


    Doomwing reached out to the crystal at the heart of the sky ship with his magic. He had to be careful here. His reserves of power were so vast that it would be trivially easy to overload the crystal and turn it into an explosive. Thankfully, his control was equally impressive, and he filled the crystal with his magic until it was full.


    "Go," Doomwing said to Harald. "The crystal is ready. You and your followers were the ones to repair the sky ship. You should be the ones to take it into the air for the first time."


    Harald ran through the sky ship until he reached the bridge. His most trusted followers were there with him, and the finest of his artificers and engineers stood ready and waiting in the most important parts of the ship. The dwarven script that allowed the bridge to communicate with the various areas of the ship flashed, and he cleared his throat before speaking.


    "What if we run out of magic?" Harald asked, his voice projected out into the open air by speakers forged of crystals etched with dwarven script.


    "I will provide you with more if required, but that should not be necessary. We will be flying along several powerful currents of magic that flow through the sky. You will have a chance to practice using the sails and to replenish the core''s store of magic." Doomwing chuckled. "And if necessary, I could always just use my power to carry you back."


    After all, he was already carrying a group of tree folk with him. To his surprise, the tree folk had not been troubled by flying. If anything, they seemed to find it fun, and he could see them watching the sky ship intently.


    "Well," Doomwing murmured. "You were serving Rhizophora. She has always been a bit odd. It''s no surprise you lot are a bit odd too."


    The tree folk just stared back at him before giving him the equivalent of a shrug.


    Lydia blinked. "They actually managed to fix a sky ship and get into the air without killing themselves?"


    Doomwing smiled toothily. "I gave them some help, but they did most of the hard work." He nodded at the dryad. "You''re looking better."


    "I feel better." The dryad smirked. "Ever since you dealt with that sky whale, I''ve been able to draw as much magic from the area as I need." She gestured at some tree folk who had gathered. "These are the tree folk who meet your needs. They''re also holding the plants you wanted. They should be fine until you get back to that dryad of yours."


    "Excellent."


    "By the way," Lydia said. "Did you wipe out the wolves?"


    "They were in the way," Doomwing said. "One of them even tried to eat the phoenix egg." The egg itself was hidden from view and protected by multiple runes. He didn''t want anyone else stealing his prize, not that he thought he would run into anyone with the strength to take it. However, he didn''t want to run the risk of it being damaged during a scuffle. "Why do you ask? Don''t tell me you wanted me to spare them."


    "I don''t really care what happened to them," Lydia said. "But, apparently, the goblins and centaurs found out. They''ve been celebrating for days, and with the sky whale meat and parts you left them, those celebrations have been pretty rowdy."


    "Oh? Have any of them been able to ascend?" Doomwing asked. If they had, it only made them more interesting. "Or did they kill themselves in the attempt?"


    Leaving those parts to the goblins and centaurs was both a gift and a test. A foolish person would greedily devour as much as they could and probably kill themselves in the process. A wiser person would carefully consume what was safe, gradually building their strength until they were able to ascend.


    "A handful," Lydia said. "Derzu was one of them."


    Doomwing thought back to the wise goblin. "That doesn''t surprise me. What form did his ascension take?"


    "I''m not sure of the exact name, but he seems to have developed abilities suited to leadership and command over groups ranging from foragers to warriors."


    "Hmm" Doomwing chuckled. "I see. That suits him, I think. You should keep a close eye on him. With his new abilities, the goblins and centaurs will be far more effective. It wouldn''t surprise me if they try to establish a permanent settlement too. If his ascension has taken the form I think it has, then he will be most effective when he can stay in one place and command as many people as possible."


    "I will keep watch," Lydia said. "Do you think they will try to establish a proper nation of their own?"


    "It wouldn''t surprise me."


    "That might be a good opportunity for me," Lydia murmured. "They will need allies, and with their help, I could greatly extend my reach. Not to mention, a permanent settlement will mean crops" She shook herself. "What will you do now?"


    Doomwing flexed his wings. "I will continue my journey home. I do not wish to dawdle." He glanced back to the sky ship. The dwarves had done well to improve, but every now and then, they made mistakes that needed to be corrected. Now was one such occasion. The sky ship was listing to the side, and his keen senses could pick out the panic spreading through the vessel. "The magical conduits to some of the flight stones are in need of repair. They are transmitting magic poorly, which means there is more power being used to lift one side of the ship than the other."


    "Ah." Lydia made a face. "I think I will stay on the ground. It''s easier that way."

 Interlude 3: The Parting

    Interlude 3: The Parting


    Doomwing stared at the empty space where Dawnscale had once been. He hadn''t truly expected her to leave. Despite everything she''d said, despite the horrors the Fourth Catastrophe had unleashed, he hadn''t really thought she would abandon their world.


    But she had.


    She was gone. She had left to wander the many worlds of Creation. He could understand the allure. New worlds, new challenges, and new conquests. Who wouldn''t be tempted? She''d glimpsed other worlds since she was a hatchling. Her soul had ridden the astral tides, the currents of soul energy that spread across Creation like ripples across the surface of a lake.


    She had spoken of these worlds to him. Some were devoid of life, little better than burnt-out husks. Others were full of creatures that defied easy description and called upon powers strange and mysterious. And still others were not so different from theirs. There were even dragons in a few of those worlds.


    She had spoken too of the great shadow she had seen in the depths of the astral world, a titan beyond imagination, a dragon beyond all others who wore a crown of twilight flame and stars about his head. He was no child of the First Gods. He was older and mightier, born upon a world that had been ancient long before theirs had been created, and risen far beyond any mere god.


    Could they rise to the same heights?


    Dawnscale had wanted to find out. She had wanted to explore Creation and seek out those who could answer her questions and help her grow. She had wanted to leave behind the seemingly endless cycle of Catastrophes and forge her own destiny in a world that did not need her to save it so often.


    She had asked him to come with her.


    Surely, he would be interested. Was he not the dragon who loved magic more than all other things? Each new world was bound to have new magic for him to learn and explore. All he had to do was leave this world behind. All he had to do was let go.


    He could sense the truth of her words.


    She was no mere hatchling anymore. She could do more than cast her soul upon the astral tides. She could sail upon the astral tides with her soul and body, riding them from their world and into another. He could do something similar with his magic and his runes. He could craft a vessel to ride those tides alongside her, and they could both just leave.


    It would be so easy.


    But he had refused, and she had left without him.


    "You sentimental fool," she had said to him. "You don''t owe this world anything. You have helped save it four times already. This world is cursed. The cycle of Catastrophes will never end. If this world ever had a peaceful destiny, the Broken God made sure to destroy it. His foulness has tainted this place forever. Are you worried about the others? We can grow stronger together, and then we can come back for them. We can all be free."


    And he had looked at her, at the scales of gleaming white that shone with all the light and glory of the dawn, and he had seen her for the first time. How long had it been since the compassion he had both admired and despised had cooled into detachment? Was it when she had seen so many of their kind fall at the hands of the Broken God? Was it when they had been forced to strike down Mother Tree and slay those who defended her? Or had it been when the accursed offspring of a dragon and a leviathan had tried to drown the world?


    There was so much suffering in the world, so much hate, and rage, and sorrow and her compassion was not infinite. In the end, the well had run dry, and only cool detachment had remained. She helped people because it was the right thing to do. It was a duty, not a desire. And like all duties, it grew ever more tiresome.


    Perhaps the Fourth Catastrophe had been the final straw. To realise that some up-jumped leech could grow so powerful as to threaten the entire world they she had all hoped that after the Lord of Tides, there would be no more Catastrophes, that with the ghosts of the past all laid to rest, perhaps there would finally be peace for them all.


    The vampire was proof that they would never have peace. There would always be another Catastrophe, and Dawnscale had wanted no more of it. So she had left, and he had let her go, and now he stood alone on the mountain top, still and silent and alone. He wanted to say that his exhaustion and weariness were due to the great effort he''d put in to help strike down the Fourth Catastrophe.


    That was a lie.


    He had perhaps only a quarter of his magic left, and his body was covered in wounds, some more serious than others, but the exhaustion and weariness came from knowing he had lost yet another person he cared about.


    That was all he could do. Lose people. And his memories of them were little comfort because they always led him to the same place, the same sense of loss. But Dawnscale was different. She hadn''t died. She had left, and he wasn''t sure if that was better or worse.


    "This world is my home," he had said to her. "My parents died defending it. My friends have died defending it. Would you have me run away? Would you have me abandon it? Never. From my first day until my last, this world is my home. If I must die defending it, then so be it. I am a dragon, and I do not run. Let all the horrors of Creation come. I am Doomwing, and I am no coward. This whole world shall be my hoard, and they will die like all the other Catastrophes."


    Their ancient runes came apart as they lost concentration and panicked. Doomwing laughed and heaved his aching body into the air.


    The squall dragon died first. As he lashed out blindly, spewing lightning and flailing with his claws and tail, Doomwing drove one claw into his chest and ripped his heart out. An ancient dragon''s scales were immensely durable, but he was a primordial dragon, and his claws were far sharper.


    The fool. If he had kept calm, he could have used his ability to control the wind to sense Doomwing''s position and movements. Instead, he had panicked, and it had cost him his life.


    The dawn dragon was next, and Doomwing snarled in disgust. A dawn dragon was one of the lesser stages of a celestial dragon. Dawn dragons were much like celestial dragons absolutely devastating in the air. A dawn dragon should have nearly peerless speed and agility in the air. This dragon should have kept her distance, strafing him with constant bombardments of her light breath and magic. It was what Dawnscale would have done. Instead, she had hovered in the air like an idiot while preparing an ancient rune she had barely mastered.


    Doomwing tore her head off her shoulders as she struggled to break free of the rune that bound her. Simply biting her throat out might not have been enough. After all, dawn dragons were incredibly good at healing themselves.


    To his credit, the rift dragon died well. Missing both his legs, he bellowed his defiance and unleashed a barrage of spells, using the time the other two ancients had bought him with their lives. At the same time, he bent space and time, accelerating the speed of his attacks and collapsing space around Doomwing in an effort to make the attacks unavoidable. If only he hadn''t wasted his time with an ancient rune and had attacked like this from the start.


    But ancient runes were so very powerful, and it was so easy to get lost in the allure of the overwhelming might they could unleash.


    Doomwing had been like that once, but several near-death experiences had driven home that relying solely on ancient runes was an excellent way to end up dead. Ancient runes were an exceedingly powerful tool, but like any tool they were only effective in certain situations.


    This combination attack, however, was worthy of praise but not nearly enough to stop him. Doomwing unleashed a wave of disruptive magic, blowing apart the space and time manipulation the rift dragon had created and deflecting the hail of spells. In the next moment, he was beside the other dragon, and he clawed open his chest with punishing force.


    The final ancient, the blaze dragon, had finally managed to right himself. He was trying to flee, wings beating desperately as he fled the massacre. Doomwing growled. At least the others had died fighting. This fool would die a coward.


    "Let me show you how to use ancient runes."


    Doomwing could have called upon one of his mightiest ancient runes, a rune that could shatter a mountain range and tear open the seas. But that would have taken too long, and his foe would have been out of range. Instead, he called for something simpler.


    An ancient rune of piercing.


    He pointed with one claw, and the ancient rune formed in the span of a heartbeat. In the distance, the blaze dragon froze and then began to tumble out of the sky, a hole blown right through his back and out through his chest. His heart was gone, along with several of his other organs.


    Doomwing turned back to the remaining elder dragon. The acid dragon quivered in fright, and he loomed over her. She couldn''t have been more than a third his size. Bringing her and the other elder dragons had been pointless. Or perhaps not. Perhaps the squall dragon had been planning to use them as a distraction, not realising how little effort it would take for Doomwing to destroy them.


    "You." He gestured vaguely at the carnage around him. The broken bodies of the ancient dragons and the elder dragons littered the slopes of the mountains. "Leave and tell everyone else you know about what you saw."


    "I" She swallowed thickly. "Do do you want to know who they were?"


    It was commonplace for dragons to boast of the foes they had beaten. But there was nothing to boast about here.


    "No." Doomwing dismissed her with a flick of his tale. "Why should a dragon learn the names of ants?"


    As the acid dragon fled as fast as her wings could carry her, Doomwing landed beside the body of the squall dragon. They had planned to eat him, hadn''t they? Well, he was feeling hungry, and they were right there.


    On a nearby mountain top, Marcus decided to stay silent. He and Doomwing had formed an awkward friendship of sorts. He had wanted to offer what words of comfort he could when the celestial dragon had left. Doomwing was clearly quite upset by it. But then those other dragons had shown up and well, suddenly, drawing attention to himself didn''t seem like a good idea.


    He''d wait until Doomwing had finished eating. He should be calmer then, and they did need to talk about what to do with some of the more horrific artifacts they''d found in the ruins left after Marcus''s father had been defeated. The crazy vampire had managed to gather some incredibly powerful but dangerous items. There were a few that Marcus wanted to keep, but it might be better to get rid of the rest.

 Chapter 21: The Dragon Returns

    Chapter 21: The Dragon Returns


    Once upon a time, Antaria would have been quite put out if she''d been told to sleep outside on a regular basis. However, sleeping outside was the least of her worries when it came to Doomwing''s training.


    Any illusions she might have had about the dragon easing off in his absence had been dispelled very quickly indeed. His construct was perfectly capable of beating the absolute crap out of her with minimal effort, and he was more than happy to subject her to any number of torments under the guise of training.


    Only two things had stopped her from rebelling. First and foremost, she had absolutely zero chance of defeating his construct, never mind the dragon himself. She had considered escape several times before concluding that it was impossible. His construct would hunt her down, drag her back, and then subject her to twice as much training or worse. Second and perhaps most importantly of all the torture he called training actually worked.


    Antaria had gone far beyond what she considered the limits of human ability in the span of a few months. It was, quite frankly, completely insane. She now did things on a daily basis that she would have considered completely impossible before meeting Doomwing.


    Shattering boulders with her bare hands? She was lucky if that was all he asked her to do.


    Fighting blindfolded on top of stone pillars over a pool of acid? She did that before breakfast, and Doomwing had taken pains to point out that the acid wouldn''t actually kill her just leave her in hideous, screaming agony.


    Slaughtering her way through dozens of monsters with nothing except her trusty rock and a broken sword? Hah! When she saw a monster now, she either saw a new minion or lunch.


    All in all, despite her grumbling, Antaria couldn''t really complain. When she had first realised just how bad a ruler her father was, she''d sought out her uncle. He and several others had counselled patience and the need for caution. They hadn''t been wrong, but the delay had cost many good people their lives and had only made things in the kingdom worse.


    High-minded ideals were all well and good, but they meant nothing without strength. For all of his idiocy, her father had understood that. He had used bribery, threats, and cunning to ensure the loyalty of the royal guard and the military. With them backing him, he had been impossible to remove. Her uncle''s ideals and honour had meant nothing in the face of overwhelming strength.


    And then Doomwing had come, and her father''s strength had meant less than nothing before the dragon''s power.


    Doomwing had done in a few moments what she and her uncle had been unable to do for years. How? With power. It was that simple.


    Now, Antaria wasn''t some kind of crazy person who thought that power was the only thing that mattered. Honour, justice, wisdom those were all qualities that a good ruler should have. But a good ruler needed to be strong. Otherwise, none of those qualities would matter.


    There were different kinds of strength. Her father had not been the deadliest fighter, but he had been cunning. He had known how to use the strengths of others, and that had made him far more dangerous than he had any right to be. Antaria didn''t want to live her life that way, which meant she needed personal power, enough that nobody would even think of challenging her.


    And Doomwing was training her to get it.


    His newest training exercise involved her harnessing the magic of the land around her while she slept. By learning how to absorb magic from her surroundings, circulate it through her body to purify it, and then add it to her reserves while sleeping, she could vastly hasten her progress. Moreover, learning how to do all of that while sleeping meant she could do it automatically, no matter how tired, distracted, or injured she was.


    But learning how to do all of that while sleeping wasn''t exactly easy. In fact, she had spent the first few nights achieving absolutely nothing except getting lectured on the finer points of logistics, administration, and economic policy by Doomwing in her dreams. Why the dragon knew so much about those topics, she had no idea. However, he certainly seemed to know what he was talking about, and she wasn''t stupid enough to ignore what he was saying just because his training was a nightmare.


    In a bid to improve her chances of success, Doomwing had ordered her to sleep outside with some of the monsters she''d turned into her minions. Apparently, monsters often used a technique that was similar, if not the same, and sleeping in close proximity to them might help her learn.


    Since Antaria was still determined to get a good night''s sleep, she hadn''t just fallen asleep next to the nearest monster. Instead, she''d called the most loyal monsters over and then picked the ones most suitable for serving as pillows and beds. The giant wolves were her choice, and they had proven to be surprisingly soft and fluffy despite their fearsome appearance.


    She now spent her nights using one of the mother wolves as a bed while using a few of the pups as pillows. Yes, the pups were almost as big as she was, but they were also cuddly and warm, and it was surprisingly easy to fall asleep with them all around her. The wolves must have realised that keeping her comfortable was in their best interests because they had done their best to accommodate her. In return, she had promoted a few of them. After all, she couldn''t be everywhere at once. She needed monsters who could relay her orders to the others or who could supervise the others when they left her immediate vicinity.


    The wolves had a good grasp of the hierarchy. In particular, they understood that she could kill just about any of them without too much effort. By obeying her and executing her orders, they stood to benefit. Not only would she happily murder their enemies but she would also share their corpses, and the easiest way for monsters to grow stronger was to eat other monsters.


    Daphne found the whole thing hilarious, and Antaria would have been more annoyed if the dryad wasn''t more than pulling her weight when it came to the other projects Doomwing had left them with. Honestly, the dragon was so demanding.


    Plant more crops.


    Plant better crops.


    Find suitable leaders amongst the villagers.


    Make better farming equipment.


    Clear the area around the villages of monsters.


    And he expected her to do all of that on top of her training. Daphne took a lot of the pressure off her. The dryad was able to reproduce the seeds of almost any plant she had encountered in the past, which meant that she could create seeds of the crops used centuries ago before the kingdom had fallen into its current state of disrepair. She also knew a lot about farming and farming equipment. Between the two of them, they were able to get the villagers to adopt new methods, equipment, and crops with surprising speed.


    The fact that Antaria now had a small army of monsters at her disposal probably helped too.


    Those monsters had also been quite helpful when it came to farming. Some of them could dig with incredible speed whilst others had a variety of different abilities, like making water, shaping metal, or just being really big and strong, that could help speed up the process. To their credit, the villagers had adjusted quickly once they''d realised that they weren''t about to get eaten.


    It was all working out rather nicely, which meant that Antaria now had to worry about infrastructure issues. More crops meant they needed more water, better roads, and more buildings to store produce. Already word had begun to spread to neighbouring lands about a tyrannical princess who ruled over monsters. Crops were said to grow faster in her domain, and people were kept safe from bandits and monsters by the princess and her own monsters.


    Now, she preferred to believe that she wasn''t tyrannical since that was more Doomwing''s thing, but she wasn''t about to turn down more people although she had been careful to examine the new arrivals for signs of treachery or general malevolence. She''d asked the villagers to keep a close eye on them, along with the animals that Daphne had, as well as some of her stealthier monsters.


    There were some unsavoury types, but they''d gotten rid of them without too much trouble, and the rest had settled in nicely. The handful who''d tried to commit serious crimes were given to the hungrier monsters as a way of reminding anyone who was thinking of doing the same that she was not about to put up with any real evil in her domain.


    Was it brutal? Yes. But having gotten to know the villagers, she had no intention of letting anyone prey upon them. They were good, kind, decent folk, and people had better treat them well or else. The fact that the villagers were excellent cooks who always had a hearty meal waiting for her they''d even learned how to cook monster parts! was a complete coincidence.


    "Get up."


    Antaria opened one eye. Doomwing''s construct loomed over her. She grumbled and was about to roll over before thinking better of it. Doomwing kept a fairly regular schedule, which meant that any deviation from it was probably important. Antaria pushed her way out from under a giant wolf pup and sighed as another clung onto her back like a barnacle.


    "Leave the pup," the construct said. "Consider it weight training."


    Antaria snorted. The wolf pup wasn''t nearly heavy enough to trouble her, not anymore. Even so, she let the young canine cling onto her as she followed Doomwing away from the pile of sleeping wolves. "What''s going on?"


    "I will be returning shortly." The construct smiled. It was terrifying. "I have a gift for you."


    Antaria was immediately suspicious. "Does your gift involve pain?"


    "He was bigger than I am a mile and a half long. Our battle was enjoyable although there was never any doubt that I would be victorious."


    Antaria tried to picture something that much bigger than Doomwing and failed. "If I eat this, what will it feel like?"


    "Every mouthful you swallow will be absolute agony. You will feel as though your blood has turned to fire and every muscle you have is being torn asunder. In a sense, that is not far from the truth. You will also need to purify the power you absorb from the sky whale''s heart by circulating it through your body as quickly as possible. Failure to keep up will mean serious injury or death."


    "Wait that''s why you''ve been teaching me how to do that in my sleep, isn''t it? Because if I can do that in my sleep, I should be able to manage it even when I''m in hideous agony."


    "Precisely."


    "And I can''t I don''t know try to eat more than one mouthful at a time, you know, really cram it in?" Antaria eyed the sky whale heart with increasing horror. There was so much of it there. Just how many mouthfuls would that be?


    "I would strongly advise against that."


    "Oh. Damn." She shuddered. If even Doomwing thought that was a bad idea "I guess it''ll be one mouthful at a time. Can I at least drink something with it?"


    "Introducing other substances into your body during the process would be unwise."


    "And by unwise?"


    "Potentially fatal."


    "Is there a time limit to how long I''d have?" Antaria asked.


    "It would be best to complete it in a single sitting. Normally, it would be impossible for a human to eat that much in one sitting, but you are no longer a normal human. As you consume the sky whale heart, your body will be rapidly digest and absorb it, assuming you are able to circulate your magic properly. It should, at least in theory, be possible for you."


    "And if you''re wrong?"


    "I will accept responsibility for the mistake." Doomwing paused. "And heal you of your injuries if that proves to be the case. Naturally, if the mistake is on your end, you will have to deal with the consequences yourself."


    Antaria took a deep breath. "I can''t believe I''m actually going to do this." She sighed. "But that much progress? I mean I can''t really give that up. And I am pretty used to agony by now." She frowned. "Did you ever give Elerion anything like this?"


    "I gave him part of the heart of an ancient hydra. That greatly increased his healing, stamina, and durability." Doomwing paused. "It took him several days to stop screaming." He paused again, longer this time. "I may have forgotten to remove all of the blood from the heart."


    "Isn''t hydra blood extremely toxic and corrosive?"


    "Hence the screaming."


    Antaria grimaced. "Is there anything you need to remove from the sky whale heart before I eat it?"


    "No." Doomwing paused. "Not that I know of."


    "Wait I''m sure you ate some of it, right? So shouldn''t you know if there''s poison or something in it?"


    "I am a primordial dragon. It is entirely possible for me to consume poison that would kill you trillions of times over without ever noticing it." Doomwing nodded. "But I am confident there is nothing like that in the sky whale heart I will be giving you."


    "Am I the only one who has to eat this thing?" Antaria asked. If she was going to suffer, it would be nice if she didn''t have to suffer alone.


    "Of course not. I have some for Daphne as well."


    "Hah!" Antaria cackled. "Can I watch her eat her portion first?"


    "Of course."


    Ten minutes later, Antaria could only stare in disbelief as Daphne ''ate'' her portion of the sky whale heart by digging a pit, throwing the sky whale heart into it, and then letting her roots latch onto it.


    "That is such utter bullshit," Antaria grumbled.


    "What?" Daphne giggled and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Did you think I was going to eat it with my mouth? I''m a tree. I can have my roots eat it for me. Besides, what sort of person would even try eating that with their mouth?" She shuddered. "I can feel how tough it is with my roots. It''d be like eating the hide of a monster."


    Antaria covered her face with her hands.


    "Oh." Daphne patted her on the back. "Well, good luck."


    Antaria just sighed and patted her stomach. It was a good thing she hadn''t had breakfast yet. "Let''s just get this over with."


    "Excellent." Doomwing''s magic flexed. "There. We are ready."


    "What did you just do?"


    "I put up a silencing field. There is no need to torment the villagers with your screaming."


    "The nearest village is a mile and a half away."


    "I know," Doomwing said patiently. "But it would be a shame to torment them with your screaming."


    Antaria took another deep breath and reached for a piece of sky whale heart. "I can''t believe I''m doing this."


    A few minutes later, Doomwing had to increase the strength of the silencing field.

 Chapter 22: The Heart of Ash

    Chapter 22: The Heart of Ash


    Harald still had to pinch himself now and then to make sure he wasn''t dreaming. He had resigned himself to a life on the very fringes of dwarf society after leaving the Sky Claw Mountains to spare both himself and his brother from the machinations of dwarven nobility.


    In a kinder world, he would have served honourably as his brother''s strong right hand. Alas, his talents had led his brother''s supporters to view him with ever-increasing distrust. Before they could force his brother''s hand or take action themselves, Harald had left, all but exiling himself and his followers to the remote hills where the sky ship had been buried.


    If he could not serve honourably, then perhaps he could find solace in uncovering the ancient past of his people. There were countless stories, many of which he had thought little more than fanciful tales, of what the ancient dwarves had been capable of. Now, however, he was a believer.


    And how could he not be?


    He stood upon the bridge of a sky ship, the ancient vessel no longer ruined and buried in dirt but restored and once more sailing the skies. Just the thought of it made his heart swell. After Goldwing, his loyal roc, had died, he had never been able to bring himself to ride another roc. But the sky ship was different. He was not betraying his old friend, not setting him aside for another mount.


    Ah if only Goldwing were still alive. He knew the bird would have loved the view. Rocs were swift and agile in the air, but they were ill-suited to long flights over open ground. They were at their best amidst the towering peaks of the mountains where they could ride the winds and perch amidst the jagged slopes.


    The land that Doomwing had offered them would have suited Goldwing perfectly, if not for the heat. His old friend had always preferred the chill of winter over the balmier temperatures of summer, and the land below them was anything but cold.


    The titanic peak that must be Doomwing''s volcano loomed in the distance, rivers of molten flame running from the summit and pouring from cracks in its side. All around it, the land was split by winding canyons, their depths lit by the angry glow of lava. Fumaroles spewed toxic gases into the air, and vast plains of razor rock sprawled outward, broken only by rivers of lava and hills of obsidian and granite thrust up from deep within the earth.


    Even for a dwarf, living in such rugged terrain would have been impossible. Thankfully, the territory that Doomwing had offered them was further out. Below them, the volcanic terrain had given way to rugged foothills and rolling mountains. An Age ago, perhaps more, this land would also have been riven by fire. Now, however, it had cooled, and the tremors that rocked the area closer to the volcano were absent.


    It was good land, land where the molten blood of the earth had once raged only to cool and leave behind riches drawn up from the heart of the world. A dwarf with patience and a keen eye for geology could make a fine living here, and Harald had been blessed with both. It was now a matter of choosing the best location.


    A good location would need to be close to the mineral wealth that he and his people craved. It would also need to be defensible. They would also need to pick a place that left them with room to expand. If things went well, then Harald was planning to reach out to those followers of his that had remained behind in the Sky Claw Mountains and to the various dwarf companies that wandered the world in search of new homes and riches.


    He had already spoken to Doomwing about it, and the dragon had agreed with his plans. Life for independent dwarves was tough. The finest claims those rich in wealth and in locations that allowed for easy settlement were all taken. Instead, they had to eke out livings by wandering from place to place, mining what few strikes they could find, and then moving on when the small lodes of wealth they could harvest were exhausted.


    Dwarves generally did not war with each other. Instead, those who lost political conflicts or disagreed with the ruling regime were given the option of exile. That was where most of the independent dwarf companies came from. He could offer them new homes under a new king who understood exactly what it was like to be driven from the safety of their mountain homes.


    Many would take the offer, especially if this area proved as wealthy as Doomwing claimed. Others would be reluctant to kneel, unwilling to give up the independence they had maintained for so long. Doomwing would have to speak to them individually. Those he approved of might be given claims of their own to work although the dragon had promised that none would be named king as Harald would be. Perhaps in time, if they proved worthy of it, they might also be elevated to kingship, but Harald knew all of the independent dwarf companies.


    Many were composed of good, reliable dwarves, but they had been scraping by, barely surviving from year to year. As cruel as it was to say, not a single one of them could match the talent and skill within Harald''s group, and he knew that none of their leaders could match him. If they ever rose to kingship, it would be generations from now, and by then, Harald''s line would be secure, his descendants so prosperous that none could threaten them, save Doomwing himself.


    His lips curled. Doomwing was rubbing off on him. That last thought had been laced with draconic greed.


    His eldest son approached, and Harald smiled as Leif stopped beside him to stare down at the lands that would be theirs.


    "Father," Leif said. "Our scouts have returned with their reports." He handed several rolls of parchment to Harald. "These are their findings."


    Harald skimmed through the reports. Their scouts had flown ahead on their rocs. All of them had learned to spot the signs of mineral wealth, and they had also been taught magic by Doomwing that would make prospecting easier. The dragon was a font of magical knowledge, and he had bestowed some of that wisdom upon those he considered worthy during their trip. The training had not been easy. Harald himself had undergone it, and he had puked blood several times, and only his iron will and discipline had kept him from begging for mercy as so many others had.


    Even so, the suffering had been worth it. The prospecting spells that Doomwing had taught them made it much easier to identify promising sites, reducing the work of weeks or even months to a matter of minutes or hours. Harald had instructed his dwarves to keep those spells secret from outsiders, for he was all too aware of the envy they would arouse in other dwarves. Their history was littered with dwarves who had committed crimes, even against their own blood and kin, for magic and artifacts less effective than the spells Doomwing had taught them.


    "A pittance," the dragon had rumbled. "But suitable for your needs and appropriate for your skills." It made him wonder if the dragon had magic that could simply locate whatever sort of mineral he wanted, but he decided it was better not to ask. If such magic existed but he was unable to learn it, Harald would go mad.Read latest chapters at novelhall.com Only


    The reports were promising. Every single scout had managed to find an area that might be worth investigating. However, the grin on his son''s face meant there must be more. After all, his son had also gone out to search for a suitable location, and his report had not been amongst the reports Harald had read.


    "Give me your report, son," Harald said.


    Leif''s grin broadened, and he handed the parchment over.


    Harald''s eyes widened as he read through the report. This if his son''s report was to be believed, then he had found the perfect site for their people. Harald cleared his throat and addressed the rest of the bridge.


    "Set a course for the twin peaks ahead of us."


    King Bjorn of the Sky Claw Mountains was glad to be out of his council chambers and inside a proper mine again. Ever since his brother, Harald, had all but exiled himself from the kingdom, he had grown increasingly wroth with his supporters.


    "What''s happening?" Bjorn asked one the miners, an old dwarf who specialised in magic that let him peer into the earth. "Is it a volcano?"


    The old dwarf shook his head. "No. Not a volcano. A dragon."


    "A dragon?" Bjorn blinked. "Did you just say a dragon? The rumbling is coming from underground. Are you telling me that there is a dragon "


    The mine exploded. That was the only way to put it.


    The mountain came apart. Fissures ripped the mountainside open, and huge slabs of rock and stone hurtled into the air. Bjorn bellowed for his mages to throw up defensive magic as he called on the power of the ancient artifacts he wore to shield himself and those nearby. It was just barely enough.


    From within the depths of the ruined mountain came a wave of volcanic heat and light. Gargantuan claws ripped their way free of the earth as a head larger than anything Bjorn could imagine emerged from all the rock and stone. Eyes that gleamed like volcanoes rolled in their sockets to peer at Bjorn and the other dwarves, and there wasn''t a dwarf there who didn''t freeze in sudden, instinctive terror.


    Even Bjorn, armoured in the legacies of his ancestors, could not move.


    Those eyes narrowed for a moment, and then the dragon was heaving itself up and out of the mountain. The mountain came apart completely as the dragon wrenched its claws to the side and flexed its wings with enough force to cast aside the ruins of the mountain as though all that rock and stone, those countless tonnes of material, were nought but drops of water upon its back.


    Dimly, he realised that the material that had blocked the passageway had not been rock at all. No. It had been the scales of the dragon.


    Bjorn had seen dragons before, but they had all been sleek creatures, suited for flight and seemingly built for speed in the air. This dragon was different. This dragon was wrought of fire and rock, a titan of volcanic stone, all jagged scales and rippling muscles, built not for speed or agility but for pure, overwhelming power, the kind that could rip mountains apart with ease, the king that could tear great rents in the earth that swallowed kingdoms, the kind that could heave up mountain ranges and birth canyons.


    For a long moment, the dragon savoured its freedom, wings unfurled, face turned up to the sun. It was colossal, a beast so huge that Bjorn could scarcely believe it was real despite being so close to it. It had to be a mile and a half long. How could anything alive be so big? Would it be able to fly? If it could, it would be like watching a mountain take wing.


    "You." The dragon''s voice rolled over them with all the force of a mountainside giving way and smashing a path down to the valleys below. The dwarves had legends about a figure they called the Father of Mountains. The dragon''s voice was exactly how Bjorn imagined the Father of Mountains must have sounded. "Where is Doomwing?"


    Ash filled the air, and the snow upon the mountainside melted and ran past them in bubbling currents that soon gave way to steam. The sheer heat radiating from the dragon would have killed all of them if not for their defensive magic, and even that magic, aided by his panoply of artifacts was on the verge of failure. The dragon wasn''t even attacking. His mere presence was enough to drive them to the brink of annihilation.


    Seemingly realising what he was doing, the dragon rolled his great shoulders, and the ash on the wind grew cold. The mind-boggling heat he radiated banked, and the volcanic glow that shone from between his scales lessened. The dragon peered down at them and then spoke again.


    "I seek Doomwing. Since I am not dead, I assume that we were victorious. What became of the Exiled Star? I remember pinning him in place, so that Doomwing could strike him down" The dragon shook his head. "Just hold him in place, Ashheart. It won''t be that bad, Ashheart. Easy for him to say. Not even he would have withstood a single direct blow from that monster, yet he asked me to endure several."


    The dragon spread his wings and roared. The sound shook the entire mountain range, and Bjorn just barely kept from pissing himself in terror. Many were not so stout-hearted. "But I accepted the challenge, for I am Ashheart. I am the one who grappled the Exiled Star, who dared to wrestle the Lord of the Tides. It was I who broke the back of the mightiest of Mother Tree''s tree folk!"


    Ashheart looked around. "Or is he still mourning Dawnscale? It will be troublesome if he has chosen to conceal himself." He turned his gaze to Bjorn. "You you are wearing the fanciest armour, so you''re probably in charge here. Where is Doomwing?"


    "Uh" Bjorn made a face. "I don''t know where he is exactly, but he''s to the north of us. He lives in a volcano, or so I''ve heard."


    "A volcano?" Ashheart chuckled. "Perhaps I could spruce it up for him." He paused. "Do you know of the Exiled Star?"


    Bjorn shook his head. There was a legend that spoke of some kind of star descending from the skies to wreak havoc, but it was little more than a few lines of text on an ancient scroll. "No."


    "I see." The dragon gave a low rumble and then had to catch his balance as the remains of the mountain threatened to give way beneath him. "Well what is the last truly awful thing that your people remember happening? I''m talking about a completely calamity, the kind that myths and legends are made of."


    "Well there was supposedly a fox god that twisted the mind of one of my ancestors a thousand years ago"


    "A fox god?" Ashheart''s expression sobered. "Damn. I must have taken longer to recover than I thought if there has been another Catastrophe."


    Far away, Doomwing sighed and turned his attention away from Anataria who had finally stopped screaming.


    A wave of magic had just surged through the area. It had come from the south, and it was heavy with the scent of ash. It was akin to a living volcano, a miasma of heat and stone so intense it could only mean one thing.


    His lips curved up into a smile.


    "Ashheart," he said. "You''re finally awake again. You should come and visit. I''m sick of all your stuff cluttering up my hoard."

 Chapter 23: The Dragon Trusts

    Chapter 23: The Dragon Trusts


    Ashheart had never been the smartest dragon. His siblings had all been smarter than him, and they had also learned magic faster than him too. When he attended lessons with Mother Tree, the other hatchlings had also been smarter and better at magic than him. The only thing he had going for him was his body.


    He was bigger than any other hatchling his age bigger, and stronger, and more durable.


    Blows that would have disabled or even killed other hatchlings were little more than annoyances. Attacks that should have cleaved off limbs or torn open his body could hardly scratch his scales. And when he was wounded, when his scales were pierced, or torn, or shredded, the pain did not bother him. It only made him want to fight harder, to push himself further, to draw upon more and more of that raging fire that burned within him.


    But even if Ashheart was not smart, he was wise.


    He knew who he was and what his strengths and weaknesses were, and he accepted them completely and utterly. He did not lie to himself as so many hatchlings did. Perhaps that was why he achieved his First Awakening before so many of his peers. While they struggled to find their place in the world, he knew where he belonged.


    He belonged at the forefront of battle, his claws and teeth bared, his flame blazing like the sun. Let others more gifted in tactics and strategy take command of the battle. He would follow their orders and stand as both sword and shield, so those behind him could wield their magic without fear.


    That was his place in the world.


    The hardest part was finding others he could trust. More than once he had stood boldly between others and danger, only for them to abandon him. Some had been treacherous, their betrayal planned well in advance, but so many of them had merely been cowards. They saw a difficult fight and instead of searching for a way to win with the time he bought them, they fled.


    He wasn''t sure which group he despised more.


    And then he had met Doomwing.


    They had both been so young in the long ago days of the First Age. They had both seen the mightiest of their kind fall, struck down by the Broken God. But neither of them had fled in the face of that overwhelming power.


    Ashheart had seen the bodies of his fallen kin his parents and siblings and felt rage such as he had never known before or since. He had cursed his own weakness. What good was his strong body if it could not even protect his kin or avenge them? What good were teeth, his claws, or his flame when they could not leave so much as a scratch upon his great enemy?


    Doomwing had been the same. He had lived only because his parents had chosen to give their lives for him to force another Awakening to heal the wounds he had taken. And through the tears of rage, hate, and sorrow, he had seen Doomwing stare at the corrupted mass of god-metal that was that was the Broken God and look for a way to win.


    As weak as he had been then, Doomwing had refused to give up. He had looked at their seemingly invincible foe and had searched for a way to win. He had not found it. The First Gods had cast down the Broken God although the effort cost all of them their lives. Doomwing had been too young, too weak, too ignorant to find the path to victory.


    But he had still searched for it while so many others had given in to despair.


    That was when Ashheart knew he had found someone he could trust in battle. If he could befriend Doomheart, then the other dragon would never betray or abandon him. No matter how impossible the battle, if Ashheart put himself between Doomwing and their enemy, Doomwing would find a way for them to win.


    Befriending Doomwing had not been easy.


    Ashheart had never been much given to intellectual pursuits whereas Doomwing seemed to enjoy them above all else. But Doomwing was no mere scholar, for all that he liked to view himself as one. There was a ruthless pragmatism to his learning. Whenever he learned something, he sought to find uses for it, however pointless or mundane they might seem.


    "There is no useless knowledge," Doomwing had once told him. "Merely knowledge waiting for the right moment to be used."


    His words had proven wise when he had taken countless pieces of seemingly useless and disconnected knowledge to craft the ancient rune that had laid waste to Mother Tree''s defences.


    That had been a glorious day for Ashheart. He had broken the back of Mother Tree''s mightiest tree folk and carved a path of fire, blood, and lava through the ranks of her defenders. He had roared his triumph to the skies while crushing the bodies of his foes beneath him and burning their petty defences beneath rivers of lava and clouds of molten ash. He had been too weak to help much in the fight against the Broken God, but against Mother Tree, he had proven himself.


    He had gone to find Doomwing afterward, ready to praise the other dragon for his cunning tactics and strategies, only to find him lingering amidst the burnt-out ruins of Mother Tree. The other dragon had taken the ash of Mother Tree up in his claws, only to let it scatter on the breeze. There had been no gleam of triumph in his eyes, no thrill of victory burning through his veins. Doomwing had grieved for their great enemy.


    It was something that Ashheart could not understand. Mother Tree had turned against them all. She had forced their hand. She had become their enemy. She had been kind to him in his youth, but such kindness would not stop him from striking her down. But Doomwing had never made friends easily, and the few he had made were precious.


    Mother Tree had been his friend.


    It reminded Ashheart of something that Dion, one of the First Gods, had once said to him. Dion had been an easy-going god, not the sort that Ashheart usually associated with, but he knew all the best food and drink, and he had a way of telling stories that appealed to even a stout-hearted dragon like Ashheart.


    "What is a single gold coin worth to the mightiest of dragons? Nothing. The mightiest of your kind have an odd tendency to hoard treasure. Sovereign Flame sleeps on a literal mountain of treasure. But to a hatchling? That single gold coin might be all they have."


    Doomwing was like a hatchling, and his friends were like gold coins in the very smallest of hoards. The loss of even one would be devastating.


    Ashheart was not like Doomwing. He did not have many friends, but that did not bother him. He didn''t really feel as though he needed them. If one of his friends died, Ashheart would not be pleased, but so long as they died well, he would not be too upset. After all, he was a dragon. Death was a part of his life, whether it was because he dealt it out or because others sought to slay him.


    But Doomwing had spent so much time around Mother Tree. Perhaps he had come to view death differently from other dragons, or perhaps he had never viewed it in the same way to begin with. Or perhaps Ashheart was the strange one. After the Broken God had been cast down, the rage and grief he had felt for his family had faded swiftly. They were dead, but they had been avenged. What more could he do for them? They would not want him to grieve endlessly. They would want him to live and live well.


    In a way, however, it was reassuring.


    Doomwing''s sentimentality meant that he would never send Ashheart into a battle they could not win, not unless they had no other options. Nor would he abandon Ashheart simply because things grew difficult or dangerous. And if the worst should befall Ashheart, then he could rely on Doomwing to care for any hatchlings or mates he might have.


    Adamantheart nodded. "Less than a century ago."


    "Not bad not bad at all." Ashheart gave a low rumble of approval. That was good progress. Diamondfang had done well in raising him. "Your mother has raised you well, and you must have worked hard. Did Doomwing aid you?"


    Diamondfang answered. "Not long after you were wounded and encased in the mountain, I laid Adamantheart''s egg. It was then that I approached Doomwing."


    "Oh?"


    "None of your enemies were foolish enough to attack your slumbering form, not after Doomwing made it clear that he would tear out their hearts and feast on them if they tried. However, when they learned that Adamantheart was your son"


    "I see." Ashheart''s jaw clenched. Diamondfang had been born during the Third Age. She was an ancient dragon of considerable power, but his enemies were also ancient dragons. He was confident that she could face any one of them in single combat, but if they attacked her together "Are they still alive? If so, I can change that."


    "Doomwing extended his protection to us," Diamondfang said. "And made it clear that any attack on us would be answered as brutally as possible."


    "They did not test him?" Ashheart asked. More than once, a dragon had mistaken Doomwing''s sentimentality for weakness. Few ever got the chance to make the mistake again.


    "Only one. Doomwing made an example of him."


    "Good." Ashheart had no problems with his enemies challenging him, even if they did so as a group. But to target his mate and child was not something he or any respectable dragon would tolerate. "Now, what is this about a fox god?"


    "Ah." Diamondfang scowled. "That is complicated."


    "Was he powerful?" Ashheart asked. "Because the only people I can think of who might be called fox gods are the kitsune, and I do not remember them being especially strong."


    "She was incredibly powerful," Diamondfang said. "She almost slew Doomwing in combat."


    "What?" Ashheart growled. "Impossible. No kitsune should be that strong." But then again, the Fourth Catastrophe had managed to exceed the limits of what they had thought vampires were capable of. Had a kitsune somehow done the same?


    "She struck him down with a spear of god-metal, at least, that was what Doomwing called it."


    "God-metal?" Ashheart stared. "I there is much I must ask him about when I next see him."


    "Do you intend to do that now?" Diamondfang asked.


    Ashheart looked at her and Adamantheart. "It can wait. He must have sensed my presence by now, and he can always contact me through that mirror of his if it is urgent. Right now, I find myself hungry."


    "The sea is to the north," Adamantheart said. "This time of year, whales are quite plentiful."


    "Is that so?" Ashheart stretched his wings. "Then let us go, and you and your mother can tell me of what I have missed." He grinned. "And then I can show you my lair."


    "About that," Diamondfang said. "Doomwing may have blown up your lair."


    "" Ashheart blinked. "He what?"


    "It was part of a trap," Diamondfang said hastily. "The Sixth Catastrophe had found a way to harness the power beneath it, so Doomwing laid a trap for her. Unfortunately, she was able to escape, and your lair was destroyed in the process."


    "" Ashheart scowled. "And my hoard?"


    "Doomwing has it," Diamondfang said. "He took it after you were injured, so he could watch over it since I did not have the strength to defend it."


    Ashheart relaxed. His hoard had taken him Ages to accumulate whereas his lair was something he could remake if necessary. "There were treasures in there that could have helped you and our son"


    "Doomwing made them available to us," she replied. "And he has even used his alchemy to help Adamantheart gain access to the materials he needs for his growth and Awakenings."


    "Hmm alchemy always was a hobby of his." Ashheart could forgive his friend for blowing up his lair. Doomwing would only have done that if he thought it was necessary, and the fact that the Sixth Catastrophe had not only escaped the trap but had also almost killed him later spoke volumes of how dangerous she had been. But where had she gotten god-metal? He would definitely have to ask Doomwing about that. "Now, let us leave."


    As the three dragons flew northward, one of the dwarves turned to King Bjorn.


    "Do do you think they''ll be coming back?"


    The king sighed. "We''ll just have to assume they are although" He peered at the mountain that Ashheart had ripped open. "Get some prospectors over there. We shouldn''t have any problems accessing that gold vein now, and who knows what else we might find?"

 Chapter 24: The Princess Surprises

    Chapter 24: The Princess Surprises


    The world slowly came back into focus, and Antaria realised that she was flat on her back and staring up at the night sky. The familiar face of one of the wolf pups appeared above her, and the canine gave her an affectionate lick before another familiar but less welcome face appeared.


    "Congratulations," Doomwing''s construct said. "You survived."


    "" Antaria stared. "Were you expecting me to die?"


    "No. However, there was a non-zero possibility of your body failing to make the necessary adjustments. Depending on exactly how far you fell short, there was a chance that even I would be unable to heal you."


    "I don''t remember you mentioning that before."


    "I would have thought it would be obvious when I said it was potentially fatal. That is, after all, what potentially fatal means."


    She hated to admit that he had a point there. "Where is your actual body?"


    "Once I was certain you would survive and had not suffered any permanent damage, I departed. I have something I need to bring to my volcano, and I also need to check on the dwarves. It would be aggravating if they somehow managed to get themselves killed after coming all the way here. Their leader is sensible, but dwarves have been known to make foolish decisions when faced with the prospect of great wealth."


    "You mean they become gold-crazed bastards who do stupid stuff?" Antaria had heard many stories about just how far dwarves would go for treasure. It was why her kingdom had always kept a wary eye on the independent dwarf companies that occasionally passed through. Their skills were always welcome, but the last thing they needed was for them to raid the treasury, especially since her father had been so determined to spend it on preparing the kingdom for wars it had no reason to fight.


    "Yes." The construct chuckled. "I had a friend who was a dwarf I once made the mistake of showing him my hoard. I think he went a little crazy. I had to wipe the memory of it from his mind lest it drive him mad."


    "Your hoard is that impressive?" Antaria asked. She had always assumed it would be impressive, but to push a dwarf that far it must be impressive indeed.


    "Let me put it this way. If I were to release just the coinage I have accumulated over the years, it would crash what passes for an economy in this Age. The combined treasuries of the kingdoms that Elerion united paled in comparison to the mundane treasures of my hoard, to say nothing of the more esoteric objects whose worth is all but impossible to quantify."


    "You know," Antaria said. "I wouldn''t mind having a bit of that wealth."


    "You rule this area in my name. As such, you will be entitled to a portion of the profits it generates. Consider it incentive to ensure that this area is as productive as possible." The construct motioned for her to stand. "How do you feel?"


    "Hmm" Antaria got up and stretched. "I thought my throat would be sore from all the screaming, but it feels fine. In fact I feel better than fine. I feel great."


    "I used magic to heal any residual damage you suffered. Otherwise, it would have been days before you could speak again."


    "Thanks." Antaria took up a fighting stance and threw a few punches and kicks. She was startled by how much faster and stronger she was, and the wolf pups made sounds of amazement. Curious, she called on her magic, and she received yet another shock. Her reserves of magic had grown several times over, and the channels that carried magic through her body had seemingly disappeared. "Uh I just noticed something weird."


    "You no longer have large channels that carry magic through your body."


    "Yeah." Antaria made a face. "I''m pretty sure I need those to, you know, not die horribly. What happened to them, and how much longer do I have to live?"


    "Do you feel like you are going to die?" the construct asked.


    "No. But that doesn''t mean I won''t, right?"


    The construct chuckled. "You''re starting to learn. But, no, you are not in any immediate danger. In fact, the disappearance of the large channels that carry magic through your body is a good thing."


    "How?"


    "Try to circulate magic through your body and pay close attention to what happens."


    Antaria closed her eyes and did as he asked. The result was equal parts bizarre and awe-inspiring. Her magic no longer circulated through her body via large channels. Instead, it was like she had a huge number of smaller channels running through her entire body. Startled, she tried to channel magic into her fist. For a split-second, the countless smaller channels that now ran through her arm combined to form a large channel that poured power into her fist where it was instantly distributed through a host of smaller channels that formed to spread it as quickly and efficiently as possible.


    "What happened?" Antaria asked. "Because I''m pretty sure my body didn''t do that before."


    "What happened is that you exceeded my expectations." The construct smiled. It was terrifying. "I had expected that eating the sky whale''s heart would lead to an increase in power, strength, and a number of other attributes. However, I expected those increases to be largely quantitative in nature. Instead, you managed to achieve a qualitative change."


    "A qualitative change?"


    "Yes. Humans do not undergo the same sort of ascension as monsters. However, they are still capable of radically altering the way their body processes magic. Normally, humans possess a magical circulatory system that is composed of a number of large channels that carry magic through the body. Humans typically increase their power by strengthening and broadening these channels while increasing the size of their reserves, which allows their body to handle more magic, which they can use for spells or to reinforce their bodies. You, however, managed to reach the next stage."


    "Because you would probably kill yourself. As durable as you are, a fall from several thousand feet off the ground would probably still kill you. If not, it would lead to horrific injuries that I would have to fix. You have developed some experience with enhancement magic, but flight-related magic is very different. It demands dedication to master it, and it requires you to understand a number of related principles too. After all, you are not a bird or a dragon. Flight does not come naturally to you, so you lack the instincts required to perform it properly. At the very least, you will have to work on gliding and floating first, and you will have to learn spells and runes that can protect you from killing yourself when you inevitably make a mistake and end up falling out of the sky or hitting the ground."


    "But I''ll be able to fly?"


    "Provided you pay attention, study diligently, and don''t kill yourself doing something stupid, then the odds are good that you will one day be able to fly." The construct made a face. "Hmm there is a book I will give you to read during your dreams."


    "Oh?"


    "It was written by Alenna Skyseeker, an elf from the Third Age. She learned how to fly using only her own magic, and she became good enough to earn my respect. She was not as good as a dragon in the air, but she came the closest of any non-dragon I have ever seen. She wrote a book about it although no one else ever reached the same level as her."


    "What happened to her?" Antaria asked. "Did she uh die because of the Third Catastrophe?"


    The construct shook its head. "No. Elves live much longer than humans, but they do not live forever. She was born near the start of the Third Age and died long before the Third Catastrophe. She passed away aboard her sky ship surrounded by her friends and family. It was a good death."


    "I''d have thought you''d rate a death in battle more highly than a death like that," Antaria said.


    The construct stared into the distance, at a time and place she couldn''t see. "My dwarf friend died as gloriously as any dragon could hope to die, yet I would have preferred it if he had shared Alenna''s fate. It would have grieved me to see his children bury him, yet that would have been far better than watching him cast trinkets into the sea because he could not find the bodies of his family."


    "Oh." Antaria bowed her head. "I''m sorry."


    "Do not apologise for things that are not your fault that you could not have known about. You asked a question. I am the one who chose to answer it." Doomwing''s construct straightened. "To live a long life is to see those you love pass. Such is the way of the world. And that is especially true for dragons like myself who need not fear old age."


    "You know," Antaria said. "We put out candles for our dead on the last day of the year to remind them that they haven''t been forgotten. We could put some candles out for your friends if you want."


    "An interesting custom and one that originates from the First Age," the construct said. "The First Gods believed that all souls belong to an endless cycle of death and rebirth. But how long a soul stays in the darkness before being reborn is never certain. They lit candles to light the way and guide those souls back into the world. Somehow, the custom was never forgotten although people did forget the reasons for it."


    "Is that what you believe?" Antaria asked quietly.


    "Not exactly." The construct paused. "But you may light candles if you wish." He chuckled mirthlessly. "But you should only light one for my old friends. If you had to light a candle for each friend I''ve lost, you would never have enough. A single candle will do."


    "That''s" Antaria wasn''t sure what to say to that. "I I will light a candle."


    "Enough of that," the construct said. "Your increase in power bodes well for your meeting with the dwarves. Moreover, it will also help with recruitment from your kingdom."


    "What do you mean by recruitment?"


    "As you have undoubtedly noticed, there is too much work here for you to do alone. You need administrators and other experts. I will begin educating those villagers who show promise, but we will also need to recruit more from your kingdom. I have spoken to your uncle with my magic. There is apparently a major tournament coming up."


    "Yes," Antaria said. "They have a tournament during the winter solstice. It''s one of the most important occasions since it gives the kingdom''s strongest warriors and mages a chance to demonstrate their power. My father would often hire the winners or those who placed well to serve him."


    "You will be entering that tournament, and you will crush everyone so thoroughly that none will ever question your power again. You will become a shining star that others wish to follow, be they warriors, bureaucrats, or mere civilians."


    "My uncle won''t be happy if just steal a bunch of talented people," Antaria pointed out.


    "Your kingdom has an abundance of people who might be useful to us who are unable to rise any higher due to the constraints of the kingdom''s politics. Your uncle has done well, but even he cannot change so much so quickly. You do not have those constraints. You rule in my name, and my power here is absolute. Win the tournament, recruit whoever you can, and bring them back here."


    "Right." Antaria cracked her knuckles. "So I just have to bludgeon my way through the tournament then."


    "Remember, winning is not enough. It must be effortless. It must be overwhelming. It must be absolute. As such, you can expect your training to be rigorous."


    "Rigorous? I''m not sure I like the sound of that. What about the villagers? You said you''d be training some of them. Will you be training them the way you''ve been training me? I don''t think they''d survive that."


    "Of course not. I am not stupid. Your training has been harsh because I expect more of you. That you have not only survived but also exceeded my expectations speaks well of you." Doomwing''s construct chuckled. "Your training will only grow more difficult from here. But if you continue to impress me, we will also begin your flight training."


    Antaria bared her teeth in almost draconic fashion. A bit of pain in exchange for learning how to fly? "Bring it on."


    "Brave words," the construct drawled. "Brave but foolish."

 Chapter 25: The Dragon Speaks of the Past

    Chapter 25: The Dragon Speaks of the Past


    Harald breathed a sigh of relief when the titanic shadow on the horizon turned out to be Doomwing. He doubted that any dragon would dare to enter Doomwing''s territory uninvited, but it was still a relief to know that they weren''t in any danger. The Stalwart Guard had many weapons, but none that could contend with a dragon a mile long.


    "So this is the place you have chosen?" Doomwing asked. The dragon had chosen to remain airborne rather than rest his weight upon the twin peaks that Harald had chosen for his people. His eyes gleamed. "An excellent location."


    "Is it?" Harald asked, fishing for information. His eldest son had used every method at his disposal to examine this area, and Harald had done the same. However, if he could glean any additional information from Doomwing, then so much the better.


    Doomwing chuckled, and Harald knew that the dragon understood what he was trying to do. Rather than being offended, he seemed amused by the attempt. "There are multiple rich veins of minerals in these mountains and the surrounding area." Harald saw a glimmer of something in the air beside Doomwing. "Hmm gold, iron, copper, silver, along with a host of more exotic minerals. You and your kin could mine for millennia and never exhaust the wealth here. Moreover, this place sits atop a wellspring of power. You should have no problems recharging the crystals that power the Stalwart Guard."


    Harald tried and failed to keep himself from grinning like a fool. So much wealth, and Doomwing was just letting them have it? Well, not have it. They would have to pay tribute, but the dragon''s terms were reasonable. If anything, he seemed more interested in developing their expertise than in simply filling his hoard with even more precious metals.


    "What did you do just now?" Harald asked. "I saw something flash in the air beside you."


    "Oh?" Doomwing leaned forward, and Harald fought the instinctive urge to scream when the massive reptile closed the distance in a single swift, sinuous movement. Nothing that big should move so quickly or gracefully. "What did you see?"


    "It''s hard to say." Harald pursed his lips. "It looked almost like writing."


    The dragon grinned, baring those big, big teeth of his. "Impressive. That was a greater rune of scrying designed to reveal and catalogue the contents of the earth. That you were able to catch even a glimpse of it speaks well of you."


    "A greater rune?" Harald''s eyes widened in shock. "Do you speak of the words that bind the world?"


    "Is that what you call them?" Doomwing eased away. "That name is a bit misleading, but runes are indeed capable of incredible things. Only the greatest heroes of your people have ever been able to wield greater runes. Still, you were able to glimpse a fraction of it, which means you might be able to learn something less powerful."


    Another symbol appeared in the air beside Doomwing.


    "Can you see that?" Doomwing asked.


    Harald barely heard him. Instead, his gaze was locked onto the symbol floating in the air beside Doomwing. It was almost impossible to describe, at once infinitely simple yet immeasurably complex, its shape seeming to bleed out of the world and into higher and lower planes of existence.


    "Yes, you can definitely see it." Doomwing chuckled. "You might not have Antaria''s raw power, but you do have a lot more experience in using the power you do have. Take your magic and try to twist it into the shape of what you see."


    Harald nodded quickly and did as Doomwing asked. He failed a few times, and each time, he spat blood, but on his fourth attempt, his magic finally took on the shape he wanted. The symbol snapped into place in front of him, and his reserves of magic rushed to fill it. At once, knowledge poured into his mind.


    He knew what was in the ground beneath his feet. He knew how the veins of gold twisted and turned within the slope and how veins of silver and other minerals traced whimsical paths around it. Lodes of crystals and gemstones revealed themselves and


    The vision stopped, and he just barely stayed on his feet.


    "What did you see?" Doomwing asked.This chapter is updated by


    "I saw into the mountain," Harald wiped sweat off his brow and reached for the gourd of water at his waist. "What what was that?"


    "A basic rune of prospecting. It is amongst the weakest that I know."


    "That was one of the weakest?" Harald gaped. "I thought the magic you taught us earlier was potent, but that that was far stronger!"


    "Runes are far beyond the ordered spells that you are accustomed to. They can change the story of the world or allow you to read it." Doomwing chuckled. "You will find that rune very useful in the days ahead. Keep it to yourself although, if any of your children can learn it, let me know. You are too old now for the training I have in mind, but your children might still be young enough to go through it."


    "You would offer them personal training?" Harald asked.


    Doomwing grew wistful. "Long ago, dwarf, in the First Age, the Seven Gods, the mightiest of the First Gods, created dragons. With fire and wind, the Seven Gods made dragons. And with earth and rock and stone did the World Shaper, one of the Seven Gods, make dwarves. And it was the World Shaper who had the greatest hand in making the dragons of earth, rock, stone, metal, and gemstone."


    Harald listened intently. He wished more than anything that he had something to write upon, but he dared not ask for permission to fetch anything, lest Doomwing''s mood change and he cease speaking of that distant past that only he and his fellows could remember.


    "When the gods made elves, they took the light of the sun, the moon and the stars and used that to forge their souls. But the World Shaper had no interest in the light of the sun, the moon, or the stars. For your souls, for the souls of the dwarves he had made, he looked elsewhere, to the molten heart of the earth. It was that fire that he used to enkindle your souls, and it is why you dwarves have ever been stalwart and steadfast, for within your souls beats the steady, unyielding heart of the world. But you can also have fiery tempers, and few can hold grudges like you can. You are like volcanoes in that respect, seldom erupting, but impressive when your tempers fray and give way to rage. Ashheart is a tectonic dragon, so his soul is much the same. Besides, he remembers how the World Shaper fell, and he honours that sacrifice still. He will not strike at your kin unless they give him reason."


    "What happened?" Harald asked. "How did the World Shaper fall?"


    "The Broken God, a foe powerful beyond all rhyme or reason. He slew all of the First Gods, including the Seven Gods. The World Shaper fell before his might, his titanic body broken, divine flame spewing from mangled god-metal, but in his death throes, he shielded the ancestors of your people from the Broken God''s wrath, giving his life to them once more with his sacrifice, his great body bearing blow after blow after blow until he perished, never retreating because he knew that if he did, your ancestors would be slaughtered without mercy by the Broken God."


    "And this Broken God?" Harald hissed. He could almost picture it, a titan of gleaming metal, broken and defeated but refusing to fall, holding on grimly to shield his cowering ancestors. Was it merely imagination, or was it a memory burned into his very blood?


    "The World Shaper was avenged," Doomwing replied. "You can be certain of that." He stared east. "There is a place, far from here, where mountains once reached beyond the clouds. That was where your people were born, and they dwelt there in great happiness until the end of the First Age. I was young then, but I saw their halls several times. Even now, so many years later, I remember the splendour of those halls. Golden roofed and silver floored, with runes upon every door."


    "What happened? Why would my ancestors leave such a place?"


    "It was there that the World Shaper fell, cast down by the Broken God. He had told your ancestors to flee, for the Broken God was coming. His fall shattered the mountains, and your people would have perished before the Broken God''s wrath had he not sheltered them with his own body. Even after the Broken God was defeated, the dwarves could not bring themselves to return there, for it was where their creator had fallen. They could not help but wonder what would have happened if they had been stronger. Would the World Shaper have lived if he had not been forced to protect them?" Doomwing shook his head. "Foolishness. The Broken God was too strong. Even my people, the dragons, suffered terribly against him. There was nothing the dwarves could have done."


    "One day" Harald said softly. "One day I want to go there. I want to see it with my own eyes"


    "Perhaps I will take you," Doomwing said. "But I have lingered long enough. I must go to my volcano. I will speak to Ashheart. I doubt he has harmed your people, but I will ask him what his intentions are." He chuckled, and the sound was thunder rolling over the mountains. "Knowing him, he''ll do something ridiculous but helpful. He likes the stalwart and steadfast, and your people are often that." He snickered. "Yes, his methods might be over the top, but they are often effective, albeit simple."


    Before Harald could ask anything further, Doomwing had already left, wings beating the air mightily. He could only hope that his brother would do the sensible thing when it came to Ashheart.


    Doomwing smiled as he returned to his volcano. It was always pleasing to see his hoard. As he landed on the shores of the lake of molten lava, he quickly checked to make sure that everything from Ashheart''s hoard was where it should be and ready to be moved. The other dragon would no doubt have questions about his lair, but he should be content knowing that his hoard was safe. Once Ashheart had rebuilt his lair, Doomwing could simply hand over his hoard. It would be a shame to see it go. Some of it was truly impressive.


    However, Doomwing had no intentions of trying to keep anything that belonged to his friend. He was not some petty drake or lesser dragon who would steal from a friend. He had taken pains to make sure that everything was in the finest condition possible. Ashheart would receive his hoard in the very same condition he had left it in, barring the objects that Doomwing had given to Diamondfang and Adamantheart. The young dragon was developing with impressive speed, and he was confident that Ashheart would be proud of his progress. Of course, he''d probably test him in some ridiculous manner, like striking at him to see if he could block a blow with even a fraction of his strength behind it. Luckily, Adamantheart took after the older dragon because what Ashheart called a ''light blow'' would pulverise most other dragons.


    But now that Doomwing was here, he had business to attend to, namely the phoenix egg. Had it been the egg of a fire phoenix, he would simply have put it into the lava. The immense heat and magic would have helped it to hatch quickly with a minimum of fuss. However, he had a stellar phoenix egg, and such eggs needed to be exposed to starlight for optimum growth and development.


    Doomwing''s magic flared, and the clouds of ash and dust over the lake of lava cleared until there was a pillar of open sky above the volcano. The night sky appeared above him, and he took a moment to savour the sight of countless twinkling stars. Was Dawnscale out there, still searching for answers? Perhaps. He liked to think she was.


    He used more magic to ensure the area above the volcano would stay clear of debris before using his power to set the egg in place over the lava in a position where it would be able to absorb immense quantities of heat and magic while still drinking in the light of the stars. Then he wove protective magic around it, even going so far as to use an ancient rune.


    Before his eyes, the egg began to glow, its opalescent surface now studded with pinpoints of shimmering starlight. He used several runes in a bid to ascertain more and made a contented sound as the egg began to resonate with the magic, heat, and starlight it had access to. Better still, he could feel it resonating with the Guiding Star, one of the brightest stars in the sky, the star that had been used since the First Age to help people navigate.


    His lips curled. Yes. He had certainly gotten quite lucky with this egg. The phoenix inside it would surely grow to be quite powerful, especially since the egg was now incubating in the best conditions possible. Despite the sub-optimal conditions it had endured until now, it shouldn''t be long until it hatched. Still he would have to leave his volcano again to attend to other matters, but he had no intention of leaving the egg undefended.


    He reached out with his magic, using a series of greater runes to call forth elementals of fire, earth, wind, and lightning. The four elementals appeared in front of him. They were not the greatest of their kind, but they should be more than sufficient to deal with any threats that might appear. At the very least, they would be able to hold on long enough for him to return.


    "Protect the egg," he ordered them. "And see that no harm comes to the phoenix should it hatch."


    They stared back at him, whirling masses of sentient elemental energy, and he almost rolled his eyes. Elementals could be created using magic, but it was often better to call existing elementals since they tended to be smarter and less prone to bouts of stupidity like accidentally crushing an egg they were supposed to watch. These particular elementals were centuries old, so they had more than enough intelligence to understand what he wanted them to do. However, that intelligence came with the need to negotiate, unless he wanted to simply impose his will upon them. Still, if they proved useful, he might have other work for them, so it was better to negotiate.


    "Fulfil this task, and you will be rewarded. Serve me well, and I will allow you to bask in the energies that run through my territory. That includes this volcano and its surroundings." That got their attention, and they immediately vowed to obey. Like monsters, elementals could ascend and increase their power, but it typically involved absorbing vast quantities of magic and elemental energy. His volcano happened to have massive quantities of both for them to use. Just a few months here would be like centuries in a normal location, and they were not so foolish or prideful as to ignore the opportunity.


    "Good. Do not touch my hoard, and notify me immediately if the egg hatches or there are intruders." Doomwing left the elementals to go about their work and made his way to his mirror. "I have people I need to contact."

 Chapter 26: The Vampire Works Hard

    Chapter 26: The Vampire Works Hard


    Marcus took a moment to drag in a long, deep breath of the cool night air. Vampires didn''t technically need to breathe, but breathing still eased the load on his other abilities. More importantly, there was something distinctly pleasant about cooling down after a night of bloodshed and ruin.


    The ambush had gone about as well as could be expected. The enemy ancient had been moving his forces northward to take a defensive position up on a bluff that held a commanding view of the surrounding area. Marcus had hidden his forces along the narrow trail that led up to the bluff and had sprung his trap the moment the other ancient had committed himself to the trail.


    It might sound callous, but the other ancient was the only part of the opposing force that mattered. Even if the rest of his troops escaped, if the ancient fell, then Marcus would have considered the attack a success. The purpose of bringing his own forces was to keep his opponent''s forces occupied, so he could confront the other ancient personally without being swarmed by enemy soldiers. Yes, he could easily slaughter them, but even a moment''s distraction could prove fatal against another ancient.


    The plan had gone well. The enemy had been caught off guard, and his forces had successfully engaged the enemy soldiers, as well as the enemy vampire fledglings and elders. He''d tasked Ivar with sniping the vampires who served as the backbone of the enemy''s command structure. The half-blood might not have the raw power to confront the stronger elders on his own, but his bow and the arrows Marcus had given him evened the odds.


    A bow made from the branch of a Daughter Tree and arrows of dragon-silver would be enough to penetrate the defences of just about any fledgling or elder. Ivar might only know basic and lesser runes, but the ones he had learned were all suited for hunting vampires. Put a few of those on an arrow, and a hit to the head or the heart could easily prove fatal for even an elder vampire.


    Marcus himself had gone straight for the other ancient. He didn''t know the other ancient''s name, but he hadn''t taken him lightly. Vampires had essentially perfect night vision, so being blinded was something that could take even most ancients by surprise. Marcus had used a greater rune of blinding to rob his opponent of his vision before using several lesser runes of restraint to hold him in place.


    To his credit, the other ancient had broken through the runes of restraint almost immediately, but Marcus had never intended for those runes to hold him. Instead, they were supposed to distract him, allowing Marcus to conceal himself and create a blood doppelganger. Blood doppelgangers were costly constructs, not only in terms of the amount of his own blood that Marcus had to shed but also the amount of magic and mental control required to create and maintain them.


    However, blood doppelgangers were excellent facsimiles of whoever made them. They could fool even close examination, and they could actually contribute to a fight. The doppelganger that Marcus made was about a quarter as strong as he was and had taken perhaps half of his overall power to create.


    But even a blood doppelganger could not fool a skilled ancient, and his opponent had proven skilled indeed. He had used a greater rune of dismissal to break free of Marcus''s rune of blinding before turning his attention to the doppelganger. It had taken him roughly three quarters of a second to realise that the doppelganger was a fake.


    But in a battle between ancient vampires, three quarters of a second could mean everything. Vampires could sense heat and blood and had outstanding hearing and smell, yet they nevertheless relied primarily on their vision to identify threats. Blinding his opponent had allowed Marcus to conceal himself, and presenting the doppelganger had delayed his opponent''s scrying and detection magic by three quarters of a second.


    Marcus used that time to appear behind his opponent and cut off his head before stabbing him in the heart. A rune of true death should have ended the battle then and there, but his opponent had not gone into battle unprepared. He wore a charm, one of incredible quality, that stored an ancient rune of full restoration.


    For a split-second, the two ancient runes had clashed, as he and his opponent each tried to bend the story of the world to their own ends. In the end, Marcus had lost. His opponent must have spent years pouring energy into the charm to ramp up the power of the ancient rune to an absurd degree,


    What should have been an immediate victory had devolved into a long, drawn-out battle as he and his opponent left the trail behind and devastated the surrounding landscape. The blood of the fallen was torn out of their bodies and turned into opposing storms of crimson death as they ripped at each other with sanguine claws, blades, and teeth.


    Marcus found himself wondering how he''d never heard of this other ancient before. The other vampire was clearly exceptionally skilled, but it wasn''t unusual for ancients to seclude themselves for centuries at a time, emerging only when they needed to secure resources or feed. Marcus had also spent much of the Sixth Age away from other vampires, and he hadn''t exactly spent the past thousand years scouting for threats either.


    In the end Marcus had won because he was just that little bit more experienced and efficient with his power. It was a small thing, and it wouldn''t have mattered in a shorter fight, but as the battle dragged on, going from a clash of mere seconds to one that took almost an hour, those small differences in experience and efficiency allowed Marcus to land one blow and then another and another, his small advantages piling up like snow upon a northern hillside until finally they turned into an avalanche.


    His opponent fell, and both Marcus and his sword drank greedily. Marcus had not drunk Gaius''s blood. The man had been a fool, and the less Marcus had to do with him, the better. If history forgot him, the world would be a better place. But his opponent had been worthy of respect. He would continue to live on through Marcus, and that was the greatest respect that Marcus could give him.


    With his opponent dead, Marcus tugged off his helmet and began the long walk back to the trail. The night air was cool upon his face, and there was a crisp cleanness to it that could only be tasted here in the desolate north, far from the bustling thoroughfares and crowded marketplaces that could be found in more hospitable climes. It reminded him of the nights he had spent wandering through what was left of the vampiric homelands.


    Doomwing had destroyed them so utterly that they were completely unrecognisable.


    But there had been beauty amidst the desolation. He hadn''t been able to stay long Doomwing''s magic had left a scar upon that place that was only now beginning to heal but the night sky had been beautiful to behold. His father, the fool, had transformed the land itself to fuel his ascent to power, building countless towers and other constructs to harness the region''s ambient magic.


    The entire region had been covered in a miasma of unnatural light, the stars replaced by a pulsing haze of black, purple, blue, and green radiance. It had hurt to look upon, and the sight of it had driven many people mad. His father had found that amusing, but Marcus had been glad to see it gone, reduced to nothingness by his friend''s magic.


    Still, he was a bit puzzled. He was still beneath the umbral veil, yet the stars could be seen clearly. How did that work? Did the veil merely block sunlight while allowing starlight to pass through? Or perhaps it was simply a case of his vampiric vision being unimpeded by the veil. Whatever the case, he''d already tested the veil many times. Even a fledgling could walk around at noon without feeling so much as a tingle on their skin.


    He had almost reached his forces when he felt someone approaching at high speed. Their magic felt vaguely familiar, but he nevertheless prepared himself for battle. Now, after he had used up much of his power, would be the perfect time for an ambush. He donned his helmet once more and began to draw power out of his sword. The sanguine steel hummed, and he felt power flow into him. It was almost like drinking blood.


    His eyes narrowed as a cloud of bats moving far faster than normal bats could approached and the landed nearby. The bats clumped together and then faded, leaving behind a person he hadn''t seen in quite some time.


    "It''s been a while, Marcus." Faustina was as beautiful as ever, all long, dark hair, pale skin, and eyes that seemed equal parts sorrowful and contemplative. He fought the urge to scowl. He''d always found the scholarly type intriguing, and Faustina was a scholarly as any vampire he''d ever met. Of course, she was also a bit of a mad scientist, but there was something oddly alluring about watching her cackle over her newest experiment.


    He''d once tried to explain the appeal to Doomwing, and the dragon had simply scoffed.


    "Mother Tree once told me to avoid crazy. Clearly, nobody ever told you the same."


    He had wanted to disagree, but then Faustina had blown up his manor. He''d quite liked that manor, but he still might have forgiven her for it if her ''apology'' hadn''t basically amounted to ''I''m sorry that you feel bad that your manor exploded because it was too crappy to survive my experiment''.


    They''d argued and then parted ways, and they''d only run into each other a handful of times since then. He wouldn''t say there was bad blood between them, but he wasn''t about to share a bed with her again either until he''d confirmed that she wouldn''t be rigging it with enough alchemical explosives to level a mountain. She had a well-concealed vicious streak, which was another thing he''d found appealing.


    And again, Doomwing had just rolled his eyes when Marcus had mentioned it.


    "Unnecessary viciousness is not a desirable trait in a mate."This chapter is updated by


    That might have sounded odd coming from a dragon, but Doomwing had calmly explained that unnecessary viciousness was a great way to end up dead. Many dragons died because they refused to retreat when faced with battles they couldn''t win. Doomwing was no coward, but he was a firm believer in employing a ''tactical retreat'' or two when confronted by a truly dangerous opponent, so he could better understand their strengths and weaknesses.


    An overly vicious mate would probably get themselves killed early, he had pointed out. They might even get their hatchlings killed too. When hatchlings were involved, it was important to prioritise their safety. If that meant forsaking pride and glory, then so be it. Dragons lived long lives. They could find glory later. However, they did not reproduce as quickly as other species, so they needed to ensure that their hatchlings were well protected until they had grown enough to protect themselves.


    "I don''t suppose you''re here to kill me, are you?" Marcus asked.


    At this range, he was confident that he could reach her and strike her down if necessary. He''d prefer to avoid that, but he''d do it if he had to. As an exceptionally gifted alchemist, Faustina was most effective away from the frontlines where she offer support in the form of better weapons, potions, and other assistance.


    "Are you serious?" Faustina stared at him as if he''d grown a second head. "If I was trying to kill you, I''d have strapped explosives onto all of my bats before having them dive bomb this entire area into a giant crater. I''m here because I want in."


    "In?"


    "Yes, in." Faustina looked around and then lowered her voice. "I ran into Doomwing. The scaly bastard is as surly as ever, but he did tell me a few interesting things. If you''re going to try to take over the area beneath the umbral veil, then I can help you."


    "Is that so?" Marcus''s eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"


    "Can''t I just help you out of the goodness of my heart?" Faustina asked.


    "You''re a terrible liar," Marcus replied. "Is this about my manor? Because if you want to pay me back for that, I''ll accept payment in weapons and armour "


    "This isn''t about your manor!" she snapped before folding her arms across her chest. It was, Marcus thought, a nice chest. No. Focus. Do not ogle the crazy alchemist. "If there''s going to be a king of the vampires, I''ll admit that you''re probably the least awful choice. At the very least, you won''t just turn everything into one big orgy." She shuddered. "I remember that time Gaius tried to hire me to make stuff for him, but it was all just an attempt to drag me into an orgy."


    Marcus grinned wolfishly. "Gaius is dead."


    "Well, that''s nice," Faustina said. "He always was an asshole. Anyway, if you''re going to become king of the vampires and I think you''ve probably got the best odds of winning then I want to help."


    "And I assuming you want to be rewarded for your help?" Marcus asked.


    "Of course. Equal exchange. That''s how alchemy and relationships work." Faustina nodded sagely. "You know what I can do. I can make you weapons, armour, potions, artifacts, and a bunch of other stuff. In exchange, I want to study the umbral veil, and I want funding to establish a research academy. Naturally, a certain portion of our research will be devoted to topics that you''re interested in."


    "Hmm" Marcus had to admit that the general idea wasn''t bad. He had smiths to make armour and weapons, and he had several artificers under his command who weren''t half bad. However, Faustina was better than any of them. Even setting aside her personal skills in those area, her ability to provide them with better materials would also lead to a massive increase in their effectiveness.


    He had won every battle he had fought so far, but winning the war would be tricker. Battles could be won with tactics, but wars often came down to logistics. It was something he had taught Elerion back when his long-dead friend had been a boy. Tactics and strategy were all very important, but you could win most wars by simply having more and better than your opponent.


    More troops. Better troops.


    More weapons and armour. Better weapons and armour.


    More supplies. Better supplies.


    Right now, Marcus was still developing his logistics. The warriors of the far north were used to fighting small-scale conflicts, with battles rarely featuring more than a few hundred warriors at a time. However, things were changing rapidly. Whenever an ancient fell, it was standard practice for the majority of their troops to join the victor. Most of them held no great loyalty to one vampire or another. Instead, they were interested in joining the winning team.


    It was a bit cut throat, but Marcus could understand the logic. The north was rugged and inhospitable. Simply killing the defeated would swiftly reduce numbers to the point of collapse. Instead, the people of the far north had developed traditions that made honourable surrender possible. To be fair, Marcus didn''t let just anyone join his forces. If he thought people were likely to turn traitor or would do more harm than good, then he would either send them away or deal with them. And sometimes, the enemy simply refused to surrender, fighting until the last man. He could respect that, even if he thought it foolish.


    The dragon smiled. "A stellar phoenix egg. I was able to acquire it during my trip south, along with several other interesting things and people." His gaze drifted to Faustina and Quintus.


    "I guess I have you to thank for sending Faustina my way," Marcus said. "If you don''t hear from me in a month, assume she blew up my camp and avenge me."


    "Hey!"


    Marcus gestured at Quintus. "This is Quintus. He joined me fairly recently, but he''s been doing an excellent job managing matters around camp."


    "Is that so?" Doomwing''s gaze was piercing despite the distance between them. "Can he be trusted?"


    "I think so."


    "If he does betray you, I will deal with him," Doomwing said.


    Quintus cleared his throat. "I have no intention of betraying, Marcus, mighty Doomwing."


    "Mighty Doomwing?" Marcus grinned. "It still sounds weird when I hear people call you that."


    "Most people call me that. You''re simply obnoxious."


    "I guess that''s true. So what have you been up to?" Marcus asked. "And you can speak freely. These two will be two of my closest advisors going forward. Besides, it''s not like they''ll be headed your way any time soon."


    What followed was a brief but concise recount of what Doomwing had been doing since they''d last spoken. By the time he was done, Marcus wasn''t sure whether to laugh, scream, or cry. Instead, he settled for holding his head in his hands.


    "Only you," Marcus said. "Only you could do all of that and somehow make it work."


    "I am Doomwing," the dragon replied. "I can make anything work."


    "But a sky ship of the Third Age," Faustina said. "I don''t suppose you have another one you could lend us for study?"


    "I have several," Doomwing said. "In my hoard where they shall remain. I find the thought of you with the core of a sky ship disturbing. Marcus might actually die when your inevitable experiment with it fails."


    "Even so," Quintus said. "This is good news, mighty Doomwing. It won''t be long before your territory''s power and influence increase, and once Marcus claims the north for himself, we should be able to work something out with regards to trade."


    "A descendant of Elerion," Marcus said, smiling. "From what you''ve said she''s a lot like him."


    "She is even stupider than he was." The words might have been cutting, but there was no mistaking the fondness in Doomwing''s voice.


    "Is that so? I''ll have to arrange a meeting somehow after I''ve won up here."


    "Perhaps," Doomwing said. "What about you, Marcus, what have you achieved since we last spoke?"


    Marcus bit back a laugh. The smugness in the dragon''s voice was unmistakable although, to be fair, he had a lot to be smug about. "Well"


    Once he''d filled Doomwing in on recent events, he decided to ask him about the forest. "Do you know anything about the forest up here and why people might be disappearing in it?"


    The dragon took a moment to think before nodded, more to himself than them. "I think I know why, but I am not surprised that you three do not. It occurred near the beginning of the Fourth Age, and as far as I am aware, no vampires ventured this far north until at least midway through the Fourth Age."


    "What happened?" Quintus asked. The bespectacled man had something of an interest in history, and he had been quite intrigued by the ruins they had found scattered throughout the north.


    "After the seas receded, many dryads sought to claim lands for themselves. These younger dryads would take groups of elves and tree folk and venture from their homelands in search of territory. I did not know her personally, but I heard tell of a dryad who ventured north to the roof to the world. When the cold prove too much for her followers, she abandoned her quest and chose to settle as far north as her followers could tolerate. I suspect that she was responsible for the creation of the forest you speak of."


    "If there''s a dryad, then we should be able to negotiate with her." Marcus rubbed his chin. "I have a few things a dryad might want, and I''m sure she won''t mind too much if we only take a few trees from the forest edge."


    "There is no dryad," Doomwing said. "She died only a few centuries after settling in the north."


    "She died?" Faustina stared. "How? I mean there are frost worms, but I''ve never heard of a frost worm attacking a dryad unprovoked before, and I''d like to think she wasn''t that stupid."


    Marcus tried not to snicker. That was an interesting comment coming from someone who had suggested they go out and hunt a frost worm for alchemical ingredients.


    "In the far north, where no human or elf can live, there are frost giants," Doomwing explained. "They venture south now and then, and they took exception to the forest''s continuing expansion. According to the elves who survived the conflict and fled south, war broke out between the frost giants and the dryad. Although the two sides were fairly evenly matched, the frost giants had something the dryad could not beat a frost titan."


    Marcus''s eyes widened. "A frost titan?" Frost giants were massive creatures, with the largest reaching perhaps a hundred feet in height. Frost titans were frost giants who had managed to ascend far beyond their origins. The smallest of them were three hundred feet tall, and he had heard stories of frost titans large enough to wrestle Doomwing.


    "As you can imagine, the battle went poorly for the dryad and her forces. The elves and tree folk were driven back, and the frost titan was able to slay the dryad, albeit at the cost of his own life. Without a dryad, the elves decided to leave and return south. However, the tree folk remained, filled with bitterness at their failure and hatred for the frost giants. The elves leaving drove them all but mad, and they became increasingly aggressive, attacking anyone who dared to enter their forest. They began to hunt down frost giants, consuming them and growing in size until they could match even frost titans in size."


    Marcus fought the urge to scream. Forget the other ancient vampires. If there were frost titans and similarly large and powerful tree folk roaming around, then he had literally bigger problems to worry about. "Okay. If that''s true, how come we''re not all dead?"


    "The tree folk are more concerned with exterminating the frost giants in revenge than on what happens further south. They likely killed your scouts for intruding into their forest, but it''s unlikely they''ll leave their forest unless you truly provoke them. From what you''ve said, the umbral veil ends just shy of the forest itself, so they have no reason to try to destroy it." Doomwing paused. "Although if they do try to destroy it"


    "I might have to ask for your help," Marcus admitted.


    "I was going to say that I can contact Frostfang."


    "What does Frostfang have to do with this?" Marcus asked.


    "Ask yourself a question. If so many were beholden to the Sixth Catastrophe''s will, why were we not beset by forces from the north? Think of what an army of enslaved tree folk and frost giants could have done in the final battle."


    Marcus shuddered. "It would not have gone well for us."


    "As you know, my fellow primordial dragons participated in the battle not all of them, but some of them. Frostfang dealt with the situation in the north. I suspect that his influence has forced a ceasefire of sorts between the frost giants and the tree folk. If nothing else, their constant squabbling would disturb his naps. As powerful as the frost giants and tree folk are, they would have to be foolish indeed to challenge Frostfang in a land of ice and snow."


    Marcus almost laughed at the thought of someone picking a fight with a primordial winter dragon under those conditions. That was just suicide with extra steps. "How come I didn''t know about that?"


    "I told as few people as possible," Doomwing said. "Because the less people who knew, the less chances there were for the Sixth Catastrophe to learn of it. She had counted on those northern forces to swing the battle in her favour. Losing them without notice was one of the reasons she abandoned her defensive position and attacked. She wasn''t sure she could win if Frostfang and the other primordial dragons who were dealing with her operations around the world joined the battle alongside us."


    Marcus made a face. Kagami had been a brilliant planner. She had dozens of operations scattered across the world, all of them feeding her power and spreading her will. Defeating her had necessitated taking out all of those operations one after the other without giving her a chance to replace them. Unfortunately, some of those operations had involved forces that required Doomwing''s fellow primordial dragons to deal with. As a result, only Doomwing had been present during the siege. The plan had been for the other primordial dragons to deal with Kagami''s operations and then rush to the siege to help Doomwing overwhelm her.


    Kagami must have realised what had happened, choosing to abandon her defensive position in the hopes that she could kill Doomwing before the other primordial dragons arrived. If she could do that, there was a chance she could go after the primordial dragons one at a time, picking them off before they could join forces. It was her only real shot at victory, and she had very nearly managed to kill Doomwing.


    "Why didn''t the other primordial dragons join us afterward?" Marcus growled. He had always wondered about that, but it wasn''t as though he could force a primordial dragon to respond. "You were badly wounded."


    "The backlash of the Sixth Catastrophe''s death resulted in many of her more esoteric rituals and preparations going awry." Doomwing scowled. "I do not understand the exact mechanics only Dreamsong would be able to fully explain it but her death throes resulted in massive damage to the dreaming lands that also bled into the physical world. My fellow primordial dragons expended much of their power preventing it from getting completely out of control. It is likely why even those who were not wounded to the extent I was have not been particularly active until now."


    "Until now?" Marcus asked.


    "Ashheart has awakened," Doomwing said. "And I sense Frostfang''s power growing in the north. He has never truly slept the way I have, merely napped, but he feels far more active than he was the last time I was awake. I will have to contact him to see what has changed. As for the others, some are already awake, and others may soon be stirring."


    Marcus sat up. Primordial dragons were akin to forces of nature. It was rare for all of them to be awake at the same time outside of Catastrophes. Was there more trouble on the horizon, or was it simply a case of them awakening in response to each other? "Is Ashheart well? He was badly wounded the last time I saw him."


    "I believe so. I will be contacting him shortly to check up on him. If he was unwell, I do believe that Diamondfang or Adamantheart would already have reached out to me." Doomwing flexed his wings the same way a man might stretch their legs after sitting too long. "I have others I need to speak to. I look forward to hearing of your victory, Marcus. Naturally, I will be happy to report my own success when we next speak."


    "Yeah, yeah," Marcus said, grinning. "It was nice talking to you too. Let me know if anything important happens and definitely let me know if Frostfang decides to head south. Hopefully, I can convince my enemies to pick a fight with him."

 Chapter 27: The Dragon Gives Gifts

    Chapter 27: The Dragon Gives Gifts


    Doomwing resisted the urge to immediately contact Frostfang using his mirror. Unlike Ashheart, who simply spoke whatever was on his mind, Frostfang had always been fairly deliberate in his speech. He was most at ease when others did the same, which had led many to mistake his measured nature for hostility.


    That was foolishness. There was no mistaking when Frostfang was hostile.


    There were massive icebergs from the end of the Third Age that had yet to melt. They were a glimpse of what the other primordial dragon could do when wrath filled his heart.


    First and foremost, Doomwing should inform him of the struggle for the land beneath the umbral veil. He doubted that Frostfang would take much interest in it since he typically preferred to remain in the absolute cold of the true north, a place where only creatures of ice and frost could survive. It was unlikely that he would leave that area unless it was necessary or he got particularly bored. However, it was best to tell him now, rather than to leave it to chance.


    Frostfang was aware of Marcus, as were most of the other primordial dragons. He had once referred to Marcus as Doomwing''s ''pet vampire''. He would probably refrain from attacking Marcus unless provoked out of respect for Doomwing. From Frostfang''s point of view, Marcus was a part of Doomwing''s hoard, so attacking him unnecessarily would be rude. And for all of Marcus''s faults, Doomwing was confident that his friend was not stupid enough to attack Frostfang.


    Doomwing would also have to ascertain what Frostfang was doing in the far north. He doubted it was anything too dangerous. Some of his fellow primordial dragons were extremely lacking in common sense, but Frostfang was not one of them. If anything, he was one of the more reliable ones. He could be counted on to help when there was a Catastrophe, and he at least tried to minimise the amount of needless collateral damage he inflicted when he travelled.


    It was not that Doomwing particularly cared for those who were harmed when his fellow primordial dragons awakened and went about their business. Rather, he detested what he perceived as a lack of control. They were the oldest and mightiest of their kind. It was disgraceful that some of them still could not properly control their powers.


    Look at Ashheart. He knew how some of the others looked at his friend. They viewed the tectonic dragon as a stupid brute who relied on Doomwing to guide him. Ashheart was certainly a brute, but he was not stupid, and his control was outstanding. His mere presence could shatter the earth and set his surroundings ablaze, yet Ashheart had spent plenty of time around dwarves and other creatures without harming them. It was something to be proud of, a sign of his hard work and mastery.


    Stormbringer was the opposite. The female dragon was essentially a living storm, and the last time Doomwing had seen her, she had left a trail of utter devastation in her wake as she flew into battle against the Exiled Star. Tearing winds, torrential rain, and endless lightning strikes had scarred the earth as she passed, and he couldn''t help but wonder if she would have done better in the fight if she''d kept a tighter leash on her powers prior to her arrival. It would have meant having just a little bit more energy to face the Exiled Star. Yes, it wouldn''t have been much, but in a battle against a foe like the Exiled Star, every last drop of power was precious.


    Frostfang was a fairly private dragon too. He preferred to be left to go about his business although he was happy to be contacted if something truly important came up. Doomwing would have to take that into account. It was always interesting talking to his fellow primordial dragons. He could not simply order them around. They were his equals, and to address them in any other fashion would be to invite disaster.


    After taking another few moments to collect his thoughts, Doomwing activated his mirror again. Ideally, he would have contacted Frostfang in a more subtle manner, but the other dragon maintained a number of spells and runes that made it impossible to track or interfere with him across long distances. All of the primordial dragons did that, as did people like Marcus. It was simply common sense.


    Yes, it made it harder for Doomwing to reach out to those he knew, but it was simply too risky to let others divine their location or use long-range magic on them. That was why his mirror was so valuable. It could locate people even through such defensive magic and establish communications with them.


    More than one of his fellows had tried to buy it from him, but Doomwing was never going to sell it. It was far too valuable, and although he could theoretically make another one, the resources involved would be quite troublesome to acquire. If he was going to remain awake for longer this time, he would have to finish his research into long-range communication artifacts. He had stopped work because of the Sixth Catastrophe, and he had not stayed awake long enough in the past to continue it. Now would be the ideal time to finish it. It would allow him to stay in contact with his minions and to establish communications with the other primordial dragons without relying on his mirror.


    If he could make the artifacts in question suitably impressive looking and valuable, then his fellow primordial dragons would likely accept, especially if they could use it to speak to each other. He smiled thinly. At the same time, it should be possible to weave the subtlest of magics to let him listen in on those conversations. He could trust most of his fellows to not use such items to conspire against him, but there were a few who would gladly seem him dead if they thought they could get away with it.


    However, simply dealing with them was out of the question. The results of any such battle were far from certain, and he knew that even his own allies would not want to strike first. They had all managed to survive this long by not attacking each other unnecessarily, and that policy was unlikely to change any time soon.


    His mirror shone brightly for a moment before an image appeared above it. It took Doomwing a moment to understand what he was seeing. A trio of small dragons were happily playing on top of what appeared to be a glacier. They stopped when they saw him, and the glacier beneath them seemed to crack and then uncoil, revealing Frostfang himself, with the hatchlings perched upon his snout.


    The other primordial dragon was similar in size to Doomwing with scales that varied from the white of pure snow to the eerie blue of a glacier. Like Ashheart, he was on the broader side, albeit not as physically imposing as the tectonic dragon. His eyes almost seemed blind, for they were completely white and seemingly devoid of pupils. Doomwing knew better. Frostfang''s vision was as keen as any dragon''s. The apparent blindness was purely cosmetic, a quirk often found in dragons from his particular lineage. His scales were smooth and gleamed like ice, but in battle, jagged spikes would erupt along his back, tail, and body. Doomwing had seen him kill more than one opponent by coiling around them and simply shredding them with those spikes. It was a gruesome but effective approach.


    Still the hatchlings


    Doomwing''s eyes narrowed, and he examined them more closely. All three were ice dragons, the lowest stage of the lineage Frostfang belonged to. For him to allow them to clamber all over him and even perch on his snout meant they were either his hatchlings or the hatchlings of someone he cared for deeply. Doomwing had no idea that Frostfang had taken a mate, but it seemed more likely than the often aloof dragon suddenly befriending another dragon of the same lineage who just happened to have hatchlings.


    "It would seem that congratulations are in order," Doomwing said. Dragons did not produce many children, so to have three hatchlings was certainly worthy of congratulations. "I did not know you had taken a mate."


    Frostfang bared his teeth in a smile full of satisfaction. It reminded Doomwing of the expression the other dragon wore after hunting down a particularly large and tasty polar kraken. "I have been fortunate. I took their mother for my mate not long after you slumbered last time, and our hatchlings hatched not long before your present awakening."


    "Is that so?" Doomwing studied the hatchlings again. They were all of similar size, roughly twelve feet in length. Like many hatchlings, their proportions weren''t quite right, and they could be viewed as more adorable than imposing. Even so, a twelve-feet-long hatchling could still make short work of most foes, and Frostfang had always been a thoughtful dragon. He would never allow anything truly dangerous to get too close to his hatchlings. "Is their mother someone I know?"


    Frostfang''s tail moved to poke someone, and another dragon moved into view. She was smaller than Frostfang, but she was still roughly half a mile long. However, her scales lacked the same almost hypnotic gleam that Frostfang''s had. Likewise, the set of her wings and the shape of her tail all hinted that she had yet to undergo her Fourth Awakening. If Doomwing had to guess, she was likely a glacial dragon, a stage below Frostfang who was a winter dragon.


    "This is Snowscale," Frostfang said, and Doomwing fought to keep his expression neutral as Frostfang shifted to wrap himself around her protectively. Snowscale''s tail entwined with his. On Frostfang''s snout, the three hatchlings made choking sounds, clearly unamused by the display of affection. "You might have met her once or twice before, perhaps in the Fifth Age."


    Doomwing used magic to refresh his memories. Frostfang was correct. He had met her twice, but he had not really spoken to her, only noted her presence and willingness to help against the Exiled Star. He had tasked her with dealing with some of his followers rather than battling the Catastrophe himself. She had only been a blizzard dragon then, so she would simply have been flying to her death. Seeing the obvious affection between her and Frostfang, he was glad that he had made that decision. It had been a purely pragmatic decision she would have accomplished nothing against the Exiled Star, and watching her get slaughtered would only dampen morale but it was still pleasing to know that his decision making had once again proven wise.


    "I am glad for you." He truly was. Frostfang had helped against several of the Catastrophes. He deserved whatever happiness he could get. "How are your hatchlings?" Given the presence of the hatchlings, it was only right to inquire about them first. Besides, Frostfang seemed quite eager to speak of them. Letting him boast of their development might put him in a more receptive mood for Doomwing''s questions.


    "They are growing well!" Frostfang boomed. "His magic swirled around each of the trio in turn. The oldest is Snowwing. She takes after her mother." And she did. Snowscale''s entire body was the pale white of freshly fallen snow, and the same could be said of Snowwing. "And then my two sons: Rimetail and Frosteye."


    The reason for their names was also obvious. Rimetail''s tail reminded Doomwing of the ice that clung to trees upon the desolate mountainsides of the far north and south. Frosteye, meanwhile, had eyes that seemed almost to glow, their shimmering blue depths akin to the blue ice sometimes found in icebergs.


    "Good names," Doomwing replied. "Are they developing as you expected?"


    Frostfang puffed out his chest proudly. "They have exceeded my expectations, and I have done my best to ensure they do not want for anything. Our lair sits upon a place of power, and there is ample prey for them here. It will not be long before they are ready to begin training in earnest."


    "I see." Doomwing''s magic flared and he created several copies of books he had in his hoard. Each contained many exercises that could prove useful for young dragons. Some he had devised himself while he had collected others from various sources over the years. "I can send you some useful books through my mirror if you permit it."


    "Your mirror can do that?" Frostfang asked curiously.


    "Its ability to do so is limited," Doomwing admitted. "You would have to permit it, and it can really only send things of a certain nature. Too much magic makes the process unstable, and the items in question can easily be lost or destroyed. However, the books I wish to send are merely that books, albeit with subtle protections woven into them to ensure they are not harmed by the cold."


    Snowscale shuddered. "That sounds dangerous."


    "The risk during each subsequent Awakening is higher," Doomwing explained. "Almost any dragon who isn''t a complete fool will eventually achieve a safe First Awakening if they live long enough. However, there are many who fail to complete their Fourth Awakening. Those who fail are never heard of again because the failed Awakening utterly destroys them. There is nothing left to heal or bury."


    "" Snowscale shuddered again. It had nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the realisation that she was facing perhaps the most dangerous battle of her existence. "Can my chances be improved?"


    "Yes," Doomwing said. "You are fortunate that you and Frostfang are mates. Normally, you two would be able to share magic by having him ease magic into your magic circulatory system. You would then have to use this magic as quickly as possible to avoid it harming you due to the immense power and unrivalled purity of Frostfang''s magic. To prepare for your Fourth Awakening, you should have him push his magic directly into your reserves the core of your magic rather than the fringes. It will be absolutely agonising, and it will likely hurt worse than anything you have experienced, but it will help you get used to the sensations you will face during your Awakening and give your body a taste of what it must process to succeed."


    "How much of my magic should I use?" Frostfang asked. His early good cheer had vanished. In its place was the stone-faced calm he displayed in battle.


    "As little as you can. I mean that. Start at the absolute lowest amount of magic you can transfer and gradually build it up from there once the pain is at a more tolerate level. Be prepared to withdraw your magic at any time. You know several runes of healing, do you not?"


    "Yes," Frostfang said. "I know several greater runes of healing and an ancient rune of full restoration."


    "Keep that ancient rune handy. It will be able to repair any damage you do, provided you are careful and don''t go overboard," Doomwing said.


    "And you swear what you are saying is the truth?" Frostfang said. "Snowscale is my mate. I will not endanger her needlessly."


    "I am Doomwing," Doomwing replied. "And my words are truth." There was magic and power and the weight of Seven Ages behind his words. "I said that I would aid you, and I shall."


    Frostfang inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You have our thanks."


    "As for the frost titan''s heart I believe I know what must be done." Doomwing used magic to search for and then enhance the memory he needed. It was not one that he liked to dwell upon. "Using certain processes, the frost titan heart can be transformed into a catalyst that will almost instantly absorb all ambient magic over a large area, transforming it and purifying it."


    "How large an area?" Frostfang asked. "For the power needed for a Fourth Awakening is tremendous."


    "The entire true north," Doomwing said. "That is the area over which it will likely absorb magic." He gave a rumble and cut off his memory magic. The factual parts of the memory were enough. He did not need or want the emotions associated with it. "The majority of failed Fourth Awakenings are due to a lack of magic of sufficient purity. Without that, the vessel your body, soul, and magic are all destroyed but cannot be remade. That is why it is essential to only attempt a Fourth Awakening when you are ready. Normally, the sheer amount of magic that the catalyst would give you would be fatal, especially taking into account the purity of the magic it provides. However, if you use it during your Awakening, that will not be an issue. Instead, it will provide you with enough power to complete your Awakening. Your desire for the frost titan''s heart is likely due to your body knowing instinctively that it cannot, on its own, gather enough power to complete the Awakening successfully."


    Snowscale was shellshocked, but Frostfang processed the information with the stoicism that Doomwing had come to expect of the other dragon. He had identified the threat to his mate, and now he was considering the options that he had to deal with it.


    "How do you know of this catalyst?" Frostfang asked. "And are you certain you can make it."


    "I learned of it from Mother Tree," Doomwing said. "In the Second Age. She made a similar catalyst out of a fire titan to help a conflagration dragon achieve his Fourth Awakening. While she was making it, she explained the theory behind it to me. In the years since then, I have worked out how to generalise the creation process to other types of magic. As for making it, I am certain I can successfully make it, but there are a number of other ingredients involved that I do not have and cannot easily make on my own." Even with his alchemical skills, there were substances that could not easily be replicated.


    "What do you require?" Frostfang said.


    Doomwing told him. The list was not especially long since the overwhelming majority of ingredients were things he either had, could easily obtain, or could make without much difficulty.


    "We will acquire all of those," Frostfang said. Doomwing had a suspicion that at least two would be extremely difficult to get since they could only be obtained in the domains of other primordial dragons, but Frostfang was cunning. He could be patient a while longer and acquire them without letting the other dragons know how desperately he needed them. "When should the catalyst be prepared?"


    "It will not last long," Doomwing said. "So it should only be prepared once she is ready to attempt her Fourth Awakening."


    Snowscale took a deep breath. Fear and anticipation warred with each other upon her face. "I will prepare as best I can. You have done much to enlighten me. I think I can guess what the conditions for my Fourth Awakening are now. We will inform you before I attempt it."


    "During the attempt, I would suggest evacuating your hatchlings out of the true north," Doomwing said. "A Fourth Awakening is tremendously destructive to the surrounding area. Both Frostfang and I will be fine, but your hatchlings could very easily be harmed or killed."


    "We will take every possible precaution," Frostfang said.


    "Then contact me when you are ready," Doomwing said. They spoke of other, less weighty matters, and it wasn''t much longer before Doomwing was ready to cut off the connection. However, Frostfang decided to reveal one important piece of information before he did.


    "Dreamsong has reached out to me," Frostfang said. "I believe she is ready to exit her seclusion."


    "I see." Doomwing wasn''t sure what to think of that. "And you think she may contact me?"


    "I do not think she can. You shield your dreams from the dreaming lands, and your territory is warded against intrusion from the dreaming lands as well."


    That was a relic from the Sixth Age. Those like Dreamsong or Kagami who were experts in negotiating the winding and nonsensical currents of the dreaming lands could use them to travel from place to place. It was, in his opinion, an incredibly efficient means of travel, rivalling true teleportation in its speed but at far smaller cost if one ignored the possibility of insanity or being swept away in the chaotic currents of dream, desire, and fantasy, never to be seen again. When Kagami had changed, Doomwing had warded his territory against her, placing powerful magics upon it that persisted to this day. Anyone who wanted to kill him would have to approach him in a conventional manner, and there were precious few who could confront him in his lair and survive, especially when he had time to see them coming and prepare.


    "I suppose I shall have to contact her then," Doomwing said. "I thank you for the information."


    "You do not look very thankful," Frostfang pointed out. Snowscale swiped him with her tail, and Doomwing allowed himself a small smile at the interaction. "I could have phrased that better."


    "You speak truly," Doomwing replied. "And it is complicated."


    With that, Doomwing cut the connection. Any thoughts he had of speaking with Ashheart were set aside in favour of considering the puzzle that was Dreamsong. Why had she chosen now to leave seclusion? And did that mean that Hikari would be showing herself too? He wanted to believe that Dreamsong would have the good sense to keep Hikari from repeating her mother''s mistakes, but if not


    Doomwing would do what he had to, much as he had always done.

 Chapter 28: The Dragons Meet Again

    Chapter 28: The Dragons Meet Again


    Doomwing had worked hard to temper his wrath over the years. As a hatchling, he had sometimes been quick to anger, but he had also been quick to forgive. His parents and Mother Tree had all cautioned him against letting his temper rule him. He was clever and cunning, and allowing his anger to rule him would rob him of those gifts.


    It had not always been easy. He could still remember snapping at his friend Stormtooth from time to time. She had never been the cleverest dragon, and she had been stubborn and foolish too. More than once, they had gotten into trouble, only for him to become wroth with her. But he had never stayed angry with her for long. They had been friends, and he had known he could rely on her when it really mattered.


    Sometimes, he wondered what would have become of her if she''d survived the First Age.


    The thought of seeing Dreamsong again stirred several emotions. There was a part of him that despised her weakness. Kagami had been her pupil, and she had viewed her as a daughter, but how could she sit back and do nothing at all in the face of Kagami''s machinations? Doomwing had been forced to make many hard decisions in his life. How dare she refuse to do the same! He had almost died in a battle that would have been far less difficult if she had aided him.


    Even now, the thought of his near death and how easily it could have been avoided made his blood burn like liquid fire in his veins. When had he ever abandoned his comrades when they had needed him? When had he ever forsaken those he had sworn to help? When he had first realised that she would not be helping them, his wrath had burned hot. The urge to rip and claw and kill until he was sated had been almost impossible to subdue. Only the knowledge that acting foolishly would get him killed had stayed his hand.


    Yet there was also a part of him that sympathised. Dreamsong had been unable to raise her own hand against someone she considered family. It was a foolish decision, driven by emotion instead of logic, and Doomwing wanted to say that he could not understand it. But he could. And it was that understanding that had eventually cooled his wrath to a manageable level.


    They had not spoken for more than a thousand years. Perhaps it was time to change that, but not here. No, his lair was full of all the treasures he had accumulated in his life, to say nothing of his recent acquisition of the phoenix egg. Should his rage get the better of him, he did not want to put it at risk. It was better they speak where momentary anger would not result in any great loss.


    He took wing and soared out over the seemingly endless fields of rock, ash, and lava. He flew until he came upon a plain of razor rock, the jagged material glinting in the orange light of several rivers of lava. Below him, lizards skulked back and forth amongst the winding alleys of sharpened stone, the braver amongst them emerging to bask along the searing banks of molten streams. In the skies, wyverns and drakes flew, giving him a wide berth as they sought the safety of their roosts and nests.


    For a moment, he was gripped by the urge to simply annihilate everything he could reach. But he was no weak-willed hatchling anymore. He was a primordial dragon, and he would not allow his temper to get the better of him. Besides, in the years to come, these creatures might be of use to him and those he ruled over. Slaying them all now would provide only monetary relief while bringing years of regret at squandering potentially valuable resources. Even so, he wanted to do something anything before speaking to Dreamsong.


    "If you wish to live," Doomwing boomed, his voice carrying through the air like thunder. "Then leave this place."


    There was a flurry of activity on the ground below him and in the skies around him. They did not question his words. They simply fled as quickly as they could, running, flying, crawling, and creeping until they were far away. He let them go, and his senses stretched out to determine if any of them had been foolish enough to remain.


    None remained.


    His lips curled. Yes. These creatures might be useful later. He had expected at least a few to be too stupid to leave. He''d even expected at least one to be stupid enough to challenge him. Instead, they had all taken his words to heart and had fled.


    His golden eyes blazed, and he lashed out in all directions with a shockwave of pure telekinetic force. It crushed the ground beneath him, shattering the spires of volcanic stone and pulverising the maze of razor rock into gravel. In the skies, the shockwave parted the seemingly endless clouds of ash and smoke, leaving a column of clear air and open sky that stretched for miles around.


    There was a certain joy to be had from wanton destruction, but he quickly clamped down on the urge to do more. He folded his wings and landed with an earth-shaking boom. His claws dug into the gravel, and he exerted his telekinesis again, turning the gravel into a fine powder that was carried away in great clouds as the air his telekinesis had shoved aside rushed back toward him.


    Almost without thinking, his telekinesis shaped the clouds of debris into familiar shapes. It was tempting to continue putting aside their meeting, but he had delayed long enough. He knew Dreamsong better than most. If she had mustered the courage to seek him out, then rejecting her would simply lead to her retreating into seclusion again.


    He reached out with his magic and examined the wards he had put over his territory. He had woven them into the earth and sky, anchoring them to the towering peaks that dotted the land and to the great reservoirs of magma that lurked below the surface. Gently, he manipulated the wards to loosen the defences in the area around him.


    And then he sent a shockwave of his power rippling from the physical world into the dreaming lands. It was crude, but he had never been skilled in dream walking. However, Dreamsong would not be able to miss it, and she would see it for what it was. Not an attack, but an invitation to speak.


    But would she accept it?


    Dreamsong had not expected Frostfang to be as polite to her as he had been, but having hatchlings and taking a mate had seemingly mellowed his icy heart. She had come bearing gifts, which might have swayed him too, for her gifts had been chosen to aid the hatchlings in their growth. While she was not the wealthiest of her fellows in terms of material riches, her ability to crystallise memories and dreams was a gift that none of the others could match. She had given them memories and dreams made solid techniques and experiences that would stand the hatchlings in good stead and save them years of toil.


    Frostfang had always been thoughtful, and he had acknowledged that although he thought her actions foolish, there was no changing them now. He had been more interested in securing her assistance in the event of future conflicts and in making agreements to have her pass on additional useful techniques to the hatchlings when they were old and skilled enough to use them.


    She had been relieved. Frostfang could be cold at times, but he was not one to bear a grudge if compensation was offered. Doomwing was another matter. The nova dragon could be almost as sentimental as her at times, which meant appeasing him would not be a simple matter of making promises and offering gifts.


    It was a question of trust.


    He had trusted her, and she had betrayed that trust.


    She was fortunate that Ashheart had been asleep during the Sixth Age. Doomwing had been enraged by her refusal to fight, but he had not pushed the matter any further. Ashheart would not have taken her refusal so well. The tectonic dragon had little love for traitors, and only his inability to face her on even footing in the dreaming lands would have prevented him from dragging her into the battle by her tail.


    She would need to speak to him later. If she was lucky, she would have Doomwing with her. Regardless of how Ashheart felt about her lack of action, if Doomwing forgave her, then he would leave it at that. He trusted Doomwing''s judgement although he would undoubtedly keep a closer eye on her, lest she abandon them in their hour of need again.


    A sudden shockwave of power rippled through the dreaming lands, and she turned her attention to the disturbance. It was Doomwing. She could not possibly mistake his power for anyone else''s. He had loosened the wards around part of his territory, making it possible for her to travel there from the dreaming lands.


    Was it a trap?This chapter is updated by


    No. If Doomwing wished to harm her, he would simply devise some ridiculous magic to blow up significant chunks of the dreaming lands without ever exposing himself to harm. It sounded impossible, but she had learned not to doubt the other dragon. He had a knack for accomplishing the impossible when it came to magic.


    This was an invitation, and it was not one she could easily refuse.


    "Will you go?" It was Hikari. She had come to discuss matters regarding Frostfang.


    "Yes." Dreamsong uncoiled, scales gleaming a thousand different shades of purple as her power stirred in earnest. "If I do not show myself, I do not know when I will receive another invitation."


    "It could be a trap."


    "We both know it isn''t. That''s not the sort of person he is."


    Doomwing shook his head as if to clear away the memories. "When I woke up, I was dying. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name. All around me were dead and dying dragons. You cannot imagine what it was like. The dead lay sprawled about in great heaps, their scales broken, their forms mangled. The dying cried out for help or mercy or death. I cried out too. I cried out for my parents, for Mother Tree, for my friends but they were not there."


    Dreamsong was silent. What could she say to that? She had felt the moment the Broken God had attacked, for it had shaken the very mountains around her despite the great distance between them and the battlefield. And by the time she had emerged from her cave, little had remained of those dead dragons. Their bodies had been utterly destroyed in the increasingly destructive battle between the Broken God and the First Gods.


    But Doomwing had seen their bodies. He had been there amongst them.


    "I don''t know why, but I knew I had to seek out my parents. I couldn''t fly. My wings were broken. Instead, I crawled. With broken limbs and shattered claws, I crawled. It wasn''t far. The distance was perhaps several times the length I am now. It felt like forever to me. And on a hillside, I found them."


    Flame kindled in Doomwing''s jaws. "I dragged myself to them. They were still alive, Dreamsong. Somehow, they were still alive. When they saw me, they wept. I had never seen them weep before. They had thought me safe, and there I was, dying alongside them." He stared up at the sky and the twinkling stars overhead. "I remember thinking that it wouldn''t be so bad to die beside them, that at least, I wouldn''t die alone. I I didn''t want to die alone, surrounded by strangers. If I was going to die, I wanted it to be with people I cared about. And I was dying, Dreamsong. That attack it had ruined all of the channels that carry magic through my body, along with most of my bones and internal organs. I still don''t know how I managed to reach my parents, but I did."


    His voice was cold. He could have been talking about the weather. But his eyes. He did not weep, but there was sorrow in them deeper than she had ever seen before.


    "But my father he didn''t want me to die, and neither did my mother. So they asked me a question. They asked me how close I was to my Second Awakening." Doomwing''s jaw clenched. "I told them that it didn''t matter, but they insisted. Do you know why?"


    Dreamsong nodded slowly. "A Second Awakening would have been able to heal your injuries."


    "Yes," Doomwing said. "And my parents knew that. But I wasn''t very close to my Second Awakening. It hadn''t been all that long since my First Awakening. But they wanted me to live, and so they asked me to do something for them."


    Dreamsong felt a shiver run through her. She had an inkling, a vague suspicion, but she dared not voice it. "What did they ask you to do?"


    "Did you know that a dragon''s heart contains an absolutely massive amount of power?" Doomwing said. "But cannibalism is rarely practiced since a heart unwillingly taken will rebel against whoever takes it. There are ways around that, of course, magics and rituals that can be carried out. But I didn''t know any of them and neither did my parents. However, a heart willingly given well that''s another story, and a far, far rarer one."


    Dreamsong wanted to wretch.


    "No dragon would ever give up their heart to another. Why would they? It would mean death, and no dragon wishes to die. But my parents were already dying, and so was I. My father and mother had both experienced their Second Awakenings. They were strong, or so I thought. They asked me to take their hearts, to use their power and achieve my own Second Awakening. They wanted me to live, Dreamsong, even at the cost of their own lives."


    Doomwing dragged in a deep, deep breath. "The strictly logical part of me knows that they made the only reasonable choice. We were all dying. All three of us. There was no way they could save themselves, but they could still save me if they gave me their hearts. There was no guarantee that I would achieve my Second Awakening, but better probable death than certain death." Doomwing chuckled softly. "I was so stupid. I couldn''t understand what they were saying or why. My father had to explain it to me. He talked about it like it was the most normal thing in the world, like the three of us weren''t just dying there."


    Doomwing stared down at his claws. "But you know he and my mother were too badly injured to tear out their own hearts, so he asked me to do it instead." He stared at her. "My own father asked me to tear out his heart and eat it before doing the same to my mother. Do you know what it was like to hear him say that?"


    Dreamsong was silent. What could she even say to that?


    "I wanted to say no. I wanted to say that I was happy to die beside them. But I wanted to live. I wanted to live because if I died, who would avenge them?" Doomwing roared. "They were my parents! I loved them! I thought they were the greatest dragons in the world! And there they were, dying on some nameless hillside. I could have borne it if they had fallen in a battle worthy of story and song, in honourable combat with their teeth and claws stained with the blood of the enemy, their fire scorching the armour of their foes! But to die like that? To be cut down like sheep by a foe who didn''t even know their names? Unbearable! It was unbearable! They were Flareroar and Riftclaw! Their names should have been known throughout the world. Instead, they were dying, and the one who''d killed them hadn''t even spared them a glance!"


    Doomwing snarled. "I did as my father asked. With what remained of my strength, I tore his heart from his chest and ate it. He died screaming, and my mother praised me for being able to do it. And then I tore her heart from her chest and ate it too, and she died screaming just like he did. The last thing either of them ever felt was my claws tearing them apart!" His snarl turned into another roar. "They gave me their hearts, and it was their power, what little of it that remained, that allowed me to reach my Second Awakening. I was healed, and they were dead, and the Broken God was still alive. That was the first time I knew what real hate was."


    Dreamsong shuddered. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that he had done what was necessary, that his parents had asked him to do it. But the words were like ashes in her mouth, and she could not speak them, not with the rage and sorrow in his gaze.


    "I wanted to join the battle again, but I knew that if I did, I would die. And my parents had wanted me to live. My vengeance would have to wait until I had the strength to take it. Instead, I looked for others who might have survived. I remember Stormtooth had told me she would be fighting. She had been so proud, so ready to do her part against the Broken God. I found her. She was already dead. Her scales were turned to dust, her flesh to ash, and only her bones remained. But I recognised her by her teeth. She had always been so proud of them. She was my best friend, and all that was left of her were her bones." Doomwing shook his head. "She had been closer to the Broken God, you see, so his power had struck her even more heavily than it had hit me or my parents."


    "But not everyone was dead," Doomwing said. "I helped those I could, and I wondered why I hadn''t learned more healing magic. But there was little I could do for them. I think I think I must have tried to help several hundred of them. Only a handful survived. And then the Broken God fell. I saw it in the distance. It cost the First Gods their lives, but he fell."


    "Doomwing" she finally managed to speak, but it took all she had to simply speak his name.


    "It was Mother Tree who comforted me afterward. It was her boughs that held me, her words that soothed me, her presence that made me believe we could rebuild. But you know how that ended." Doomwing exhaled, weary. "So believe me when I say that I understand what it is like to have to kill what someone you love. You were faced with that choice, and you could not bring yourself to do it. I did. And there will always be a part of me that wishes I had not been able to do it, that I had been able to die alongside my parents instead of killing them with my own claws. It was necessary. It was the only way. It was something they asked of me. But that does not change what happened. It only explains it."


    His gaze drifted to her once more. "Do not ask for my forgiveness. It means little in the end. Instead, do better. I live now because others were willing to die for me. I cannot will not allow their sacrifices to have been in vain. My parents loved this world. They died trying to defend it. If I must die doing the same, then so be it. I have made my choice, and I will stand by it to the end whatever that end may be. You made your choice, now all you can do is live with the consequences. You spared Kagami, and it cost many their lives. If you cannot bear to be confronted with that choice again, then make sure it never happens again. Save as many lives as she took."


    "" Dreamsong took a deep breath of her own. "Hikari is planning to bring the kitsune back into the world."


    Doomwing''s eyes blazed. "And is she like her mother?"


    "No," Dreamasong replied. "She is better. She carries her father''s dreams of peace and prosperity but with none of the madness that consumed her mother. She and the kitsune will come with open hands, seeking friendship and cooperation. They will come as equals, not as conquerors or rulers."


    "Then you have already begun to atone for your mistake." Doomwing peered at her. "The guilt never truly goes away, but in time it grows dull, and there are days when it is almost gone. Your guilt comes from being unable to do what must be done whilst mine comes from doing what had to be done. Others may hold your mercy against you, and there is a part of me that does too. Yet the young dragon in me, the foolish, nave hatchling who thought his parents were the greatest dragons in the whole world will not fault you for your choice. That dragon would have preferred to die beside his parents rather than use their deaths to survive. That dragon would not have been able to strike down Kagami either. Mercy mercy is not always a bad thing."


    "So what now?" Dreamsong asked.


    "We move on," Doomwing said. "I am trusting you when it comes to Hikari and the kitsune. I was wrong to trust you with Kagami. I hope that I am not wrong again."


    "You won''t be," Dreamsong said. She paused, uncertain if she should speak her next words. In the end, she decided to say them and risk his wrath, if only because it might provide him comfort too. "You know, when you used to come to the dreaming lands, there were two shadows that always followed you. I did not recognise them at the time, but"


    "I know who they are," Doomwing said. Fondness filled his words. "My parents were stubborn fools, right up until the end. It is not surprising that their wills should linger even this long after their deaths." He turned away. "We have spoken long enough. You should go."


    It was a dismissal, plain and simple, and it stung. But as she too turned to leave, he spoke again.


    "I have business to attend to, but we will speak again when it is concluded. Bring Hikari next time." He paused. "And do not seek out Ashheart on your own. If you must speak with him, come to me first."

 Chapter 29: The Dragon Educates

    Chapter 29: The Dragon Educates


    Ashheart quite enjoyed the sensation of flying even if he had never been as good at it as some of his peers. His flight had always possessed a workmanlike quality whereas Dawnscale had flown as if the winds themselves were with her. Nevertheless, he was no slouch in the air, and he knew how to leverage his strength and size to either cripple his opponents in a single blow or drive them to the ground where he was almost guaranteed to have the advantage.


    But now was the not the time for such thoughts. Now, he was sharing the skies with Diamondfang and Adamantheart, and a feast awaited them. It had been many, many years since he had tasted fresh fish, whale, kraken, or leviathan. Being encased in the mountain had saved his life, and the great currents of magic that had been bent to nourish his wounded form had not only healed his injuries but also added to his power. But although magic could substitute for food in many ways, it could not fill his belly or please his palate. Food preferably fresh food was required for that.


    "Will there be other dragons there?" Ashheart asked. "If food is as plentiful as you say, it would not surprise me if there were."


    Diamondfang banked toward him. "Yes. The great migrations of whales are also accompanied by vast numbers of fish. The abundance of prey also lures leviathans and krakens from the depths, along with sea serpents and other predators. There is something there for dragons of every size and age."


    Adamantheart nodded. "We have friends who come at least once every few years. Some are of an age with mother whilst others are closer to my age."


    "Are there squabbles?" Ashheart asked. He did not much care for the squabbles that often occurred when dragons had to share space. He would prefer to enjoy his meal with Diamondfang and Adamantheart in peace. Of course, he was a primordial dragon. If he wanted peace, he doubted that any of the other dragons would gainsay him. And if they did, he would be happy to teach them a lesson.


    "Every now and then," Adamantheart said. "But nothing too serious although"


    Ashheart''s eyes narrowed. That pause was suspicious. "Speak freely."


    "As of late, there has been trouble. A dragon named Tideweaver has been making trouble. He recently achieved his Fourth Awakening, and he has been throwing his weight around ever since. There are rules about how much can be taken from the sea, and he has tried to encourage others to flout them."


    "Rules?" Ashheart tried to remember who Tideweaver was. The name was vaguely familiar. He had certainly heard it before. He could try using memory magic, but his memory magic was adequate at best. It might be better to ask them instead. "What kind of rules?"


    "During the early Sixth Age, too much was taken from the sea," Diamondfang explained. "And each year there were fewer and fewer fish, whales, and other prey. Doomwing created rules governing how much could be taken from the sea and what sort of animals could be slain."


    "Oh?"


    "Amongst whales, for example, no mothers or calves are to be taken. It took a few centuries, but the seas were soon as full of prey as they had ever been. Since then, all have followed the rules, and there is more to prey upon each year as a result. However, some, like Tideweaver, wish to flout the rules and gorge themselves once more, claiming that prey is now so plentiful that the rules no longer apply."


    "Hmm" It reminded Ashheart of something Mother Tree had once explained to him when he had been only a hatchling. Dragons were voracious eaters. More than once, they had almost wiped out entire species with their appetites, only stopping when Mother Tree herself or the First Gods had exerted their powers. Mothers with young were often the easiest prey to catch, but killing them would only ensure that there were fewer to eat in the future. Doomwing must have remembered her lessons and put them into practice. "What of this Tideweaver? Who is he?"


    "He is the son of Fathombinder, which has only heightened his arrogance. Since Doomwing entered seclusion after the Sixth Catastrophe, he has grown increasingly arrogant, and he has invoked his father''s name more than once to cow others into submission. It was not so bad before he achieved his Fourth Awakening. I was able to drive him off on more than one occasion. However, with his Fourth Awakening, I can no longer fight him on even footing," Diamondfang said.


    "That is understandable." From what he remembered, Diamondfang was a vicious and tenacious fighter. Dragons of her lineage were relatively quick but also incredibly durable. She had preferred to close in, ripping and tearing at her foes, weakening them with wound after wound until they could no longer resist. Her swiftness made her difficult to hit, and her toughness allowed her to withstand the blows that did manage to connect. However, she had only undergone her Third Awakening. Against a dragon who had achieved their Fourth Awakening, it would be difficult for her to win. "So he is one of Fathombinder''s get?"


    Fathombinder was another primordial dragon an oceanic dragon who had done much to help them in the battle against the Lord of the Tides. Ashheart had not dealt with him much, for they were two very different types of dragons, but he remembered Fathombinder as being a reliable dragon, one given to cold fury and unwavering resolve. If what Adamantheart said of Tideweaver was true, then the whelp must have grown arrogant and proud, secure in the knowledge that his father would aid him if things took a turn for the worst.


    Yes. He could remember Tideweaver now. Doomwing had mentioned him in passing during the Fifth Age, saying the whelp had advanced quickly through his Awakenings although he had wondered if Fathombinder was coddling him. It was true that coddling could only do so much especially for a Fourth Awakening but it would be foolish to underestimate the resources at a primordial dragon''s command.


    At the very least, Fathombinder could ensure that his son had the best places to gather power, as well as access to all manner of rare and exotic materials to ease his Awakening. It might seem indulgent, but Ashheart could not blame the other dragon for doing what he could to aid his son. However, if Tideweaver wished to play the part of a fool, then Ashheart would be happy to educate him. It could even be considered a mercy, for Doomwing would be far less gentle when he learned that someone was trying to flout his rules.


    Doomwing had always been fond of rules.


    "Yes." Diamondfang scowled, and her opalescent eyes narrowed into slits. "He has even approached me."


    Ashheart''s molten heart crackled, and the volcanic glow emanating from between his scales blazed. "In what way?"


    "He wishes to take me for his mate," she said. "Saying that he doubts you will ever awaken."


    "Hah!" Ashheart threw his head back and laughed. "The whelp has courage, for all that he is foolish. But courage alone is not enough, and a fool is still a fool. Let me deal with him."


    Tideweaver flared his wings and preened. The dragons who had gathered to partake in the rich bounty of the sea all regarded him warily, as well they should. He had achieved his Fourth Awakening, and he was an oceanic dragon. The waters of the world harkened to his call, and with the sea at his back, he was all but invincible.


    It would not be long before Diamondfang and her son arrived. The boy was brave and hardy no match at all for Tideweaver but still worthy of respect. But his true interest lay in Diamondfang. The female dragon was magnificent with her gleaming scales and lithe, sinuous frame. It was as if she was wrought of gemstones. Every movement made her shine with myriad mineral lights, and it was clear from her son that she was more than capable of birthing strong hatchlings.


    Tideweaver wanted her, but she had stubbornly refused his advances. And for what? A dragon who lay silent and all but dead in a mountain? Bah! Ashheart might have been a primordial dragon, but what good was he? He had not stirred even once during the Sixth Age, and even if he did emerge from that mountain of his, he was likely to be weak and frail after so long slumbering.


    He had pushed his suit again after achieving his Fourth Awakening, but she had again rebuffed him. She had even invoked Doomwing''s name as if that slumbering fool had any say in the world. True, Doomwing had been mighty, but he had been wounded almost to his death by the Sixth Catastrophe. He had retreated to his lair and had only been seen once a century.


    His father had cautioned him to be careful, but Tideweaver was confident. He was strong and would only get stronger. It was only a matter of time before Diamondfang acknowledged his worth and accepted his suit. They would have many strong hatchlings, and he would even help Adamantheart continue to advance. After all, the younger dragon was her hatchling, and he clearly had potential. It would be foolish not to win him over too.


    Was this all the power a primordial dragon possessed?


    Hah!


    Ashheart must have been putting on a brave front while actually being far weaker than he appeared. It was his own fault for bluffing. Did he truly think that Tideweaver was a coward who would run from a fight? Never! Now, Tideweaver would seize victory. The glory of defeating a primordial dragon would be his! He was no fool, so he would not slay Ashheart. Instead, he would extract promises of wealth from him. His hoard was bound to have priceless treasures within it, and they would all be Tideweaver''s! Once Ashheart was defeated, Diamondfang would come to her senses. He would not have to seek her out. No. She would seek him out!


    "A fine strike," Ashheart rumbled as they descended into the depths. He slammed into the sea floor with enough force to carve out a crater several miles wide. "You struck swiftly and without hesitation, using what was likely your strongest attack. You also dragged me into the ocean where you thought you would have the advantage. Even now, I can feel your power in the waters around me. The pressure here is tremendous, and your power has amplified it thousands of times over. Your father must have trained you well, and you must have worked hard to reach this level. However"


    The pitch-black of the fathomless deep gave way to volcanic orange. Stifling, mind-boggling heat began to emanate from Ashheart, so intense that Tideweaver was forced to retreat. He, a dragon, was forced to retreat in the face of heat! Impossible!


    "I am Ashheart," the primordial dragon growled. The water around him boiled and was blasted away by a sudden eruption of searing ash. He was shining almost like a star, his scales gleaming like fresh lava as the entire ocean trembled, the sheer force of the boiling water and burning ash clearing away the ocean and leaving a broad column bereft of water that stretched all the way back up to the surface. "I was the one who wrestled the Lord of the Tides. He tried to drown me, and he failed. Compared to him, you are nothing."


    Tideweaver tried to flee, but he was too slow. Ashheart launched himself upward, and the impact when the larger dragon hit him transformed his entire world into pain. He bit and clawed frantically, and he called upon every spell and rune he could think of. Water spewed from his mouth, only to instantly boil into steam before the raw heat blazing from Ashheart.


    And then they were out of the water, and he was slammed into the beach. Dimly, he was aware of Ashheart looking down at him with those eyes, those eyes that had never once seen him as a threat. He wanted to roar, to rage, to get back up and fight, but his body refused to obey. How was this possible? He had achieved his Fourth Awakening! Ashheart was older than him, yes, but could the difference truly be this large? Impossible!


    Somehow, he forced himself up onto his haunches. He did not know how many of his bones were broken. It had to be most of them. He could barely even open his jaws. Yet still, his pride and his desire to prove himself drove him to stay on his feet. This was no longer about Diamondfang or anything else. All that mattered was changing the look in those eyes. Just once, he wanted to see those eyes acknowledge him as a threat. Just once, he wanted this primordial dragon to consider him an equal!


    He roared and then lumbered forward, all of his remaining strength thrown into a single blow only to be batted aside with a flick of Ashheart''s tail. He crashed to the ground in a heap and darkness closed in.


    Ashheart watched the younger dragon collapse to the ground unconscious. "He wasn''t half bad," he rumbled as Diamondfang and Adamantheart came forward.


    The female dragon tilted her head to the side. "Is that so?"


    "His attack was worthy of a dragon who had achieved their Fourth Awakening. It would certainly have felled its fair share of dragons at that level. However much help Fathombinder has given him, he has clearly worked hard to make the most of it."


    "Were you in any danger?" Adamantheart asked.


    Ashheart chuckled. "No. He never stood a chance. I simply wished to see what sort of attack he would use. He chose well, but the difference between us is simply too great." His gaze drifted to the horizon where another oceanic dragon was approaching. It was Fathombinder.


    The other primordial dragon soon arrived. "Ashheart."


    "Fathombinder."


    The oceanic dragon''s scales shimmered, a captivating mix of cerulean, sapphire, azure, and the darker shades of blue nearing black that could only be found in the depths of the oceans and seas of the world. "My son appears to have acquired some injuries."


    "A challenge between two dragons," Ashheart replied. "Nothing more."


    "Is that so?" Fathombinder''s magic reached out, probing his son''s injuries. "Hmm nothing a bit of healing magic won''t fix." He bared his teeth. "I had warned him about pursuing your mate, but the boy is too stubborn for his own good. His Fourth Awakening went well, and it has made him a tad"


    "Arrogant?" Ashheart asked.


    "Yes. But such arrogance is not uncommon for those whose Fourth Awakening goes so smoothly. This fight should serve as a stern reminder that he still has a long way to go, that his Fourth Awakening is not the end of his journey, merely the beginning."


    "He fought well," Ashheart said. "He struck swiftly and without hesitation, and he took full advantage of his surroundings. A lesser dragon than myself might easily have fallen before him. You should be proud."


    "I am." Fathombinder began to cast healing magic. "His mother will not be pleased that I allowed this to occur, but such defeats will do much to further his growth." He inclined his head. "You have my thanks, Ashheart, and I am glad to see you well."


    "It is good to see you too, Fathombinder." He gestured vaguely at the beach. The other dragons had returned, no doubt sensing the end of hostilities. "Will you be eating anything? There is supposed to be plenty of good prey here."


    "Another time," Fathombinder replied. "I will take my son and go."


    "Until then," Ashheart replied.


    Fathombinder left, carrying Tideweaver in his claws. Ashheart watched them go. The whelp had acquitted himself well, for all that he had been defeated. He was young and foolish, but time would change that. From what Diamondfang had told him, Tideweaver had never pushed his suit too far. Instead, each attempt had been accompanied by displays of strength and power as he sought to convince her that he was a fine choice for a mate. He had been persistent, yes, but he had accepted each rejection, waiting another decade or two before trying again. Had he overstepped himself, then Ashheart would have been far less merciful.


    "Well" Ashheart said, turning back to his mate and his son. "Shall we go get something to eat?"Updated from

 Chapter 30: The Dragon Knows Magic

    Chapter 30: The Dragon Knows Magic


    Having spoken to Dreamsong, Doomwing was eager to find something else to occupy himself, lest he dwell on their meeting more than was wise. His mind was perhaps his greatest asset, but over-analysis of what was, ultimately, a mostly emotional matter would not do him any good. Emotions were not like spells or runes. They did not adhere to strict sets of rules or laws. He would simply have to wait and see.


    But what to work on?


    Two projects came to mind.


    The first was communication. His mirror was an incredibly powerful device, and its communicative abilities were unmatched. However, it was not something he could simply lug around, and he could hardly mass produce it either. What he needed was something that could be carried around easily and which could be shared with the various leaders and individuals he might wish to speak to on a regular basis.


    Yes, he could use his own magic to contact them, but if he wanted his empire to function properly, then his subordinates needed a way to contact him. One possibility was to provide them with single-use spell crystals that contained communication spells. With his raw power and alchemy, it would not be hard to produce vast quantities of those. However, the sheer wastefulness of the approach rankled him.


    What he wanted was something that could be used repeatedly without having to be replaced. Ideally, he would never have to replace it. Moreover, it had to be operable by people with miniscule reserves of magic. It also had to be able to reach across long distances and provide reliable audio-visual communication.


    With all those constraints in mind, the solution was actually fairly obvious. He needed to craft spell-stones, similar to those used by the dwarves of the Third Age, except instead of containing spells to manipulate gravity and generate force, they would have to hold communication spells. Since he could not rely on his subordinates to generate the magic required themselves, there needed to be a system in place to allow the spell-stones to absorb ambient magic from their surroundings.


    It would also be much better if the communication-stones as he had decided to call them were small enough to be transported by a human or dwarf while still being durable enough to withstand rough treatment. Yes, he could easily shove a large communication-stone in a tower somewhere, but what would his subordinates do if they needed to show him something away from the tower?


    A spell-stone was essentially an alchemical construct that could ''crystallise'' spells. These crystallised spells could then be operated by running magic through the spell-stone. Creating a spell-stone for a sky ship was an arduous affair that required multiple dwarf craftsmen working in tandem, often for days or even weeks a time, depending on the size and power of the spell-stone.


    Doomwing had far more magic than any dwarf and had far better control of his too. He was also far better versed in alchemy than the dwarves of the Third Age. The issue was that communication spells were not only more delicate than the spells used by sky ships to fly but they were also incredibly power hungry, depending on how far they needed to reach and what sort of communication was involved.


    The spell-stones used in sky ships were simply not suitable for what he had in mind. To make the communication-stones smaller, the material had to be capable of handling much greater densities of magic, so he could pack in all of the various communication spells required. Moreover, the material would also have to be able to withstand multiple runes to enhance its durability and allow it to absorb ambient magic. Due to the lack of volume and surface area, the communication-sphere could not operate like the sails of a sky ship. Instead of merely absorbing ambient magic that passed through it, it would have to actively draw in ambient magic from its surroundings.


    Alchemy was renowned for its use of complicated and elaborate rituals, along with exotic and rare ingredients. However, those were not necessarily required. At its heart, alchemy was about the transmutation and transformation of matter and energy. Those rituals and ingredients allowed an alchemist to shift the hefty burden of transmutation and transformation from themselves to the rituals and ingredients. More elaborate rituals and more exotic ingredients would allow even a relatively weak alchemist to perform impressive feats of transmutation and transformation.


    Doomwing was a primordial dragon. Power was not an issue. Rather than rely on rituals and ingredients, he could exert his great power and mastery of magic to perform transmutation and transformation directly. The drain had the potential to be enormous, but he was really only limited by his understanding of the rules that governed alchemy and he had millennia''s worth of study and experience to draw upon when it came to those rules.


    His first several attempts to create a communication-stone were failures. That was to be expected. He had never made one before, so creating a material that matched his requirements necessarily involved a bit of guess work. However, his fifth attempt resulted in a satisfactory communication-stone.


    It was a cube of dull grey material that was roughly the same size as a human head. However, when it was activated, the material would turn transparent, revealing the intricate spell craft within as the communication-stone projected an illusion of its immediate surroundings while receiving an illusion from another communication-stone that showed that communication-stone''s immediate surroundings.


    A lesser dragon might have baulked at the visibility of the spell craft, but Doomwing did not care. Anyone with the skill to understand what they were seeing would have been able to divine the spell craft involved anyway. The most important part of the communication-stone was the material, and even another master alchemist would still have to break off a chunk of it to understand what it was and that would not be easy at all with the runes upon it.


    The communication-stones operated in a straightforward manner. Each communication-stone could be ''connected'' to other communication-stones. Once two communication-stones were connected, they could reach out to each other. Assuming the person being contacted accepted the contact, then the people using them could see and speak to each other. It was also possible to connect multiple communication-stones, allowing for a conference of sorts to be held.


    He tested the first two by giving one to the earth elemental he''d summoned and then flying away from his volcano. There were no problems, even at great distances, and the communication-stones showed no signs of damage or failure. Their ability to absorb ambient magic was also working as intended, and they did not burn through the magic they absorbed too quickly. In his territory, it was difficult to imagine them ever running out of magic although more judicious use might be required elsewhere.


    He made more than a dozen other communication stones before stopping. That should be enough for the first batch, and he could easily make more now that he had experience with the process. It made him wonder why someone else hadn''t done this earlier.


    It was likely due to a combination of factors. He could easily imagine the unscrupulous using such items to plot against people. Since he was not a fool, he had ensured that he could listen in on what people were saying and even listen to past conversations. He would not allow these tools to be used against him.


    In the past, long-range communication was usually reliant on individuals skilled in that sort of magic. It was extremely reliable, and there had always been enough such individuals for people to manage. There had been enough of them in Elerion''s kingdom that every major settlement had several, with even small towns often having at least one. Combined with aerial couriers and short-range communication magic, there had been no pressing need for things like communication-stones.


    Materials were another issue. The material that Doomwing had made for his communication-stones was not something that just any alchemist could have produced, nor was it something that occurred naturally. Naturally occurring materials were much better suited to other applications, and even those that could be produced using more typical alchemy were not ideal for the delicate yet powerful spell craft of long-range communication magic.


    Dragon alchemists were ideally suited to making it, but most dragons who practiced alchemy used it to craft other kinds of artifacts or to make treasure. If they wanted to speak to someone, they had the raw power to rely on normal communication magic. It didn''t help that dragons who focused on alchemy tended to be reclusive and weird. He, of course, was a rare exception, regardless of what Marcus might think.


    And speaking of Marcus he might need his help for his second project.


    Even if Doomwing could now communicate with his subordinates, that still left the matter of educating them. Casting magic through the communication-stones was not possible. What he needed was something similar to the construct he was using to teach Antaria. However, as useful as that construct was, it came with a serious downside he had to control it himself. Given his many talents, controlling his own body and the construct''s at the same time was not especially hard. Unfortunately, the mental load of controlling additional constructs was closer to exponential than linear.Read latest chapters at novelhall.com Only


    So what to do?


    He wasn''t about to do anything stupid like tear out part of his soul and shove it into a golem or something. He wasn''t a lich, and there was a reason liches often went insane long before their phylacteries failed. The simplest answer was a doppelganger.


    Unfortunately, most doppelganger were stupid. A typical earth doppelganger, for instance, could follow basic instructions, but it would almost certainly fail when confronted by any complex problem. They were only useful in battles as distractions or as a means of overwhelming the enemy via sheer numbers. Few dragons made use of them since they typically lacked the power to meaningfully impact a fight, and draconic sight could easily distinguish between a real opponent and an earth doppelganger.


    Blood doppelgangers were different. They seemingly possessed the potential to have the same knowledge, skills, and intelligence as their creators but at the cost of requiring copious quantities of blood and far more power to create. Blood doppelgangers were also fleeting, seldom able to last as long as their less intelligent peers.


    Although blood doppelgangers were not unique to vampires, vampires were, by far, the best at making them. Marcus''s father the Fourth Catastrophe had been fiendishly good with them, and had used a small army of them to help manage his empire of undead. Unlike other vampires, his blood doppelgangers lasted far longer and demonstrated a number of incredibly interesting abilities, like being able to communicate with him, use higher-level magic and runes without much loss in power, and the ability to maintain themselves by consuming magic and blood.


    They had even been able to serve as vessels for the Fourth Catastrophe, allowing him to reincarnate into them in the event of his destruction. Unfortunately for the vampire, Dawnscale had been a celestial dragon, and her astral sight had allowed her to use that connection to attack the Fourth Catastrophe and his blood doppelgangers simultaneously.


    Doomwing had been interested in learning how he had created those blood doppelgangers, but the Fourth Catastrophe had taken his secrets to the grave and Doomwing had been forced to destroy the vampiric homelands to prevent any further issues from arising. However, there was someone who knew a lot about blood doppelgangers, someone who might even be considered an expert in them, and there weren''t any world-threatening crises getting in the way of a proper discussion


    When Doomwing contacted Marcus, the vampire was fending off Faustina.


    "We are not attacking Commodus just because he has the heart of an ancient sphinx."


    The female vampire clung onto his leg as he tried to escape. Quintus was eyeing a chair contemplatively, seemingly wondering if he shout hit her with it. Ivar, meanwhile, was just nursing a bowl of hot soup. "Do you know what I could do with that? Besides, he''s evil. We''d be doing the world a favour and I''d get the sphinx heart."


    "And what do you intend to do with that?" Doomwing asked.


    Marcus gave him a tired smile. No doubt, Faustina had been haranguing him about the sphinx heart for some time. "Please, tell me you''re not calling because something awful is headed my way."


    Doomwing paused. Frostfang would likely be headed Marcus''s way soon, if only to speak with him and make clear his position. Did that count as awful? Probably not. "No."


    "What was that pause?" Marcus asked. "You had to stop and think! What''s headed my way?"


    "Nothing you need to worry about. Just remain calm if Frostfang shows up. I have spoken to him. You and your forces need not worry about him, but he will likely wish to discuss a few matters with you. Rest assured, you will be fine if you do nothing foolish."


    "" Marcus sighed. "Thanks. I appreciate it. But if you''re calling about that?"


    Doomwing glanced at the other people in the room. "It pertains to some of your father''s research."


    "I see." Marcus straightened and then pried Faustina off his leg. "Faustina, Commodus is a bastard, and we''ll probably have to kill him later. But right now, he is fighting a few of our other enemies. We''ll let them bleed each other out and then swoop in once they''re done weakening each other."


    "And the sphinx heart?" Faustina asked, pouting. "What if something happens to it?"


    "If it''s as valuable as you say, I doubt anyone would destroy it. We''ll just take it from whoever has it. But what does it even do?"


    Doomwing chose to answer before Faustina could slip into another rant, as she was prone to do. "A sphinx''s heart can be used to craft items with power information-gathering or information-revealing properties. Given Faustina''s proclivities, I suspect she wants to make an item that can reveal the properties and origins of other objects. She likely already has several such items, but there are often strict limitations on what sorts of objects they can analyse. If you were to use one of those on me, you would receive no information whatsoever, due to my immense power and resistance to magic. An ancient sphinx''s heart could be used to make a much stronger item, one capable of analysing much rarer and more powerful objects, as well as providing much more detailed and useful information."


    "Would something like that work on you?" Faustina asked.


    "No. I am beyond such things," Doomwing replied. It wasn''t arrogance. It was fact. Analysis magic could be incredibly useful in battle, so Doomwing maintained multiple protection spells against it, in addition to his own natural resistance. "But it would almost certainly prove useful against other ancient vampires, even if they tried to conceal information using magic."


    "Hmm" Marcus pursed his lips. "You know, maybe we will attack Commodus. That does sound quite useful."


    "See?" Faustina said. "And I can use it for my research too." She glanced at Doomwing. "I don''t suppose you have any items like that, do you?"


    "Only a dozen or so. I prefer to use my magic since it''s more powerful."


    "" Faustina glared. "I hate you, you know that, right? How can you can have stuff like that and just keep it in your hoard?"


    "I either found it, made it, or won it in battle. I decide where it goes, and it goes in my hoard." Doomwing nodded at Marcus. "About your father''s research?"


    Doomwing nodded. A dragon''s soul got stronger and stronger with age and Awakenings. Contrary to common belief, injuries to the soul were not permanent. At a certain level of power and understanding, people could heal their own souls, either passively or through direct effort. A primordial dragon''s soul was tremendous, a vast, unyielding thing that was almost impossible to damage and which constantly healed and renewed itself when damaged. In other words, it was entirely possible that he would be able to use blood doppelgangers or their equivalents far more safely than the Fourth Catastrophe ever had but with the restriction that his inability to use true vampiric blood magic would nevertheless severely limit how many he could make in the first place.


    "Thank you," Doomwing said. "Your demonstration has been most helpful."


    "What''s a little bit of forbidden blood magic between friends?" Marcus drawled.


    "By the way, what are you going to do with that doppelganger of yours?" Doomwing asked. The doppelganger in question was slouching in a chair and had put its legs up on the table.


    "I was thinking of using it against Commodus. It should last long enough for that."


    "If you do" Doomwing bared his teeth. "You should try this." He explained his idea, and Marcus began to laugh.


    "Oh, that is hilarious. I wonder why my father never mentioned that ah. He would have considered it a failure. He always was obsessed with perfection."


    Doomwing''s idea was fairly simple. The core was an intricate structure. When destabilised in a certain way, it would rupture, and the doppelganger would release its accumulated power in a huge explosion. In theory, it appeared that there was nothing stopping Marcus from destabilising the core remotely using the link he had with it.


    "I don''t know if that would actually kill Commodus, but it would definitely do a lot of damage if he''s not ready for it." Marcus grinned. "My father would have had a hard time doing it too since he made so many of them. Just trying to sort through all the links with a fragmented soul would have made it very difficult for him to avoid accidentally exploding the wrong one. Plus, he would have hated to do that. He was so closely linked to them, it would have felt like blowing himself up. It might have distracted him so badly that he lost control of his other magic. Still, for someone like me who never makes many, usually just one if I ever do make any, it''s ideal. Thanks."


    "You''re welcome." Doomwing called several treasures to him and sent them through the mirror. "Have these."


    "I don''t need your help," Marcus said, chuckling. "I said I''d handle things up here on my own."


    "You have explained the secrets of your father''s magic to me. It would be disgraceful for me to accept such knowledge without offering recompense." That was true, but this was also a way for Doomwing to help his friend without injuring Marcus''s pride. "Take them."


    "Well if you put it like that." Marcus accepted the treasures. "I guess you''re going to give it a try now, right?"


    "Yes."


    "Let me know how it goes." Marcus snickered. "And try not to make too many. Soul fragmentation and insanity aside, I''m not sure the world can handle a bunch of you wandering around."


    Doomwing spent an entire week carefully considering his course of action while examining his memories of Marcus''s demonstration multiple times to ensure he did not miss a single thing. Only once he was confident of what he wished to do did he proceed.


    First of all, he would not be creating doppelgangers of great power. Marcus''s doppelganger had consumed a third of his power and had wielded perhaps a quarter of his strength. Doomwing had no need for a doppelganger that powerful. Moreover, reducing the strength of the doppelganger would also substantially reduce many of the associated problems. Doppelgangers capable of activating the more useful greater runes should suffice.


    He could still use blood as a general medium, but the core would need to be made of different materials. Blood, yes, but also flame, for fire was the essence of a dragon. Combining blood and fire might seem impossible, but that was where alchemy came in. The two could indeed be combined, and the resulting material could be used to form the basis of a core, along with additional materials, like scales he had shed, teeth he had lost in battle, and so on.


    Since he was not capable of use true vampiric blood magic, he would have to turn to substitutes. This was where his lessons with Mother Tree, the elves of the Third Age, and Dawnscale were critical. Mother Tree had been the greatest master of life and nature magic outside of the Life Bringer, the member of the Seven Gods who had created Mother Tree, along with many over forms of life. Indeed, the Life Bringer had played at least a partial role in the creation of basically all living things of the First Age. Doomwing had learned all he could from Mother Tree, and even if he had never reached her mastery, the knowledge had stood him in good stead ever since.


    The elves of the Third Age had developed elven script, a counterpart to the dwarven script used by the dwarves of that same Age. It had its own uses, but it was incredibly good at capturing the essence of life and nature magic and in modifying living things. Rather than etch it onto their living ships, they had grown the script into the very body of the ship. It was the same reason the mightiest elven weapons were technically alive the elven script used to empower them was woven into them in a very literal sense.


    Dawnscale had taught him a great deal of astral and light magic before leaving. He he had never been as good at it as her, but she had been the greatest living exponent of those disciplines. Now, with millennia more experience and power under his belt, Doomwing was one of the mightiest practitioners of those arts, not through natural talent but through obsessive study and practice.


    Using his telekinesis, he could sense and affect the inside of an object. In other words, it was possible to use his blood as a framework for the doppelganger before taking a material similar to the core he would make and then weaving it into the doppelganger''s interior, tracing out countless lines of elven script to substitute for the true vampiric blood magic he was unable to perform. Throw in astral and light magic bound into the core to make up for other shortcomings, and the end result should be a doppelganger that met all of his requirements.


    Another month


    It took him another month of constant, unrelenting effort to succeed. To a magic user of his calibre, that was almost unfathomable. Winter was now very close indeed, but he was glad to have completed his task in time. His very first doppelganger stared back at him, an almost perfect replica of how he had looked back when he had only been twelve feet or so long, right down to the overly large wings and stubby tail. Nevertheless, this doppelganger was capable of using most greater runes and was able to operate independently without his direct oversight although it would still pursue his objectives as best it could. After all, it was effectively still a fragment of him.


    "The mental load is negligible," the doppelganger said, flapping his wings. "And the load on your soul is also well within tolerable limits."


    "Yes." Doomwing smiled toothily, an action his doppelganger mimicked. "And as long as there is ambient magic for you to absorb, you should be able to operate indefinitely."


    "Yes. How about the link between us?"


    Doomwing concentrated on it, and the link was indeed present. He could modify how deep it was, whether or not information could pass through it, and so on. Better still, the safeguards to prevent soul-based attacks on his doppelganger from harming him were operating as expected. "It meets expectations."


    "So what will I be doing?" the doppelganger asked. "Will it be Antaria or the dwarves?" He chortled. "I do think Antaria has gotten attached to your construct despite it being a puppet."


    "True I think she wants it to remain, so she can eventually murder it as revenge. Even so, I think I will be replacing it soon. It simply isn''t worth the mental burden now that a better alternative is available."


    "You''re not going to make too many more like me, are you?" the doppelganger asked. "Even with the strength of your soul, that would be unwise. A dragon''s soul may be stronger than a vampire''s, but a vampire''s soul is able to withstand more fragmentation before complete disintegration."


    "That is correct." Doomwing was pleased to see the doppelganger''s intelligence. Clearly, his work was excellent. "Perhaps half a dozen like you in total. Any more might be pushing it, especially if I wish for them to operate indefinitely. At the very least, making more than that would be extremely unwise until I can confirm that there are no long-term dangers."


    "Half a dozen of us? That should be fine. I''m guessing you wish for me to go to the dwarves then."


    "Correct. The dwarves need an instructor. I want you to teach them as much as they are able to learn in the fields of metalwork, artifice, alchemy, and magic."


    "That should not be too difficult," the doppelganger said. "If nothing else, I am sure they will be enthusiastic about learning."


    "As for the others I will leave one with Antaria to oversee her training later and to assist Daphne and the villagers. That leaves four others whose deployment I will decide when the need arises. I imagine we will have more people to deal with soon."


    "If Antaria impresses at the tournament."


    "She will. My construct has been seeing to her training. Her progress has been commendable," Doomwing said.


    "She has yet to fly," the doppelganger said.


    "No. But she has gotten very good at falling less awfully, which is decent progress. Besides, her combat prowess has increased considerably."


    "Teaching her a style popularised by the elves was a good decision."


    Doomwing nodded. Historically speaking, elves typically favoured fighting styles that emphasised speed, agility, and accuracy over raw strength and power. Antaria could already hit disproportionately hard. An elven style ensured she would be able to land her blows while avoiding those of her opponent. Once she mastered flight and could move freely in three dimensions, she would be ready for Alenna''s fighting style. Even a bastardised version of that style would be terrifying and would likely make her the most dangerous human alive.


    "It was." Doomwing studied his doppelganger. "Now what to call you"


    "Don''t call me Doppelganger One. Marcus would never let us live that down."


    "Since you are the first you should have a name that reflects that. You will also be helping the dwarves. Ah yes. You will be named Vngr."


    The doppelganger''s expression grew sober and then fond. "Ragnar used to call us that when he was drunk. It meant ''wing'' in his language." The doppelganger chuckled fondly. "He always used to complain that Doomwing was a silly name since it wasn''t like our wings brought doom."


    "Not to him or his fellows, anyway," Doomwing said. "I remember him laughing when I told him why our parents gave us the name they did. Of course, it was hard to be mad with him after he explained what his parents were originally going to call him."


    "Their original choice meant ''screamer'' in their language since he screamed so much when he was born. I''m glad they went with Ragnar instead." The doppelganger nodded. "Vngr it is then. I like it. It''s a good name."


    Doomwing chuckled. "Now that I''ve made you, making more shouldn''t be too difficult. Two more should suffice for right now. One for Antaria and another for my hoard."


    Vnger''s eye twitched. "Wait one of us gets to stay with our hoard?"


    "Yes. It''s been a long time since I''ve catalogued the contents, and I do need to make sure that everything is working as it should. I also need to retrieve anything that might be useful in the immediate future, not to mention having a doppelganger to watch over the phoenix egg would be a wise precaution to take. The elementals can see to its protection, but a doppelganger can help if there are any complications. Not to mention, that doppelganger can also carry out research here and even use the mirror to contact people if necessary."


    "Hmm he''ll be busy then. Still, the thought of lounging about with the hoard"


    "The dwarves will keep you occupied, and I''m sure there will be riches for you to roll around in once their mining truly takes off." Doomwing stretched. "For now, I will create the other two doppelgangers, and then we will leave. There is more work to be done elsewhere."

 Interlude 4: The Monsters Under The Bed

    Interlude 4: The Monsters Under The Bed


    "I think there are monsters under my bed," Hikari said gravely.


    "Is that so?" Doomwing found it amusing indeed that one of her preferred activities was to go fishing... on top of his snout when he was napping or lazing about in the lake. Due to his immense size, finding a good place to lay down was not always easy.


    "Yes." Hikari nodded. She had a basket beside her. She had only caught one fish so far, but it wouldn''t be long before she added more. Knowing her, she''d keep enough for herself and her parents before giving the rest away to the staff who served her family. "There are definitely monsters under my bed."


    "You do realise that the palace is heavily warded, especially your family''s chambers. And even if a monster somehow managed to sneak in, it would have to contend with the royal guard and your parents."


    The royal guard were powerful by human standards, and Elerion was stronger than all of them put together. However, Kagami was the proverbial elephant in the room. A nine-tailed kitsune was a foe that even most dragons would have to take seriously. Marcus was usually around as well, and the ancient vampire was no slouch, especially since his skillset was almost perfect for dealing with assassins and their ilk.


    "I know... but what if they use super powerful teleportation magic and can get past all of the guards and stuff." Hikari lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I think the monsters have a teleportation anchor under my bed."


    Doomwing made a mental note to be more careful about what sort of magic he spoke about around Hikari. Teleportation was certainly possible although it was rarely used in combat. It simply required too much time and power to be efficient. Long-range teleportation was likewise rarely used due to the nightmarish cost and mental strain involved. That wasn''t to say there weren''t people who used it. Dragons belonging to the rift dragon lineage were particularly adept at manipulating space and time, so they were able to avoid most of the downsides associated with teleportation. Doomwing''s mother had belonged to that lineage. However, he had not inherited any particular proficiency in that area. Nevertheless, he had studied teleportation thoroughly. There were ways to reduce the time needed to cast a teleportation spell although the costs were steep enough that they were really only viable in emergencies.


    "To do that, they would already have had to sneak in. Not to mention, the wards around the castle would definitely detect teleportation."


    "I guess..." Hikari made a face. "Could you make a construct and put it under my bed? That way if there are any monsters, you can get them."


    "..." Doomwing considered refusing before deciding that it might actually be easier to just go along with it. "Fine." Besides, Hikari had good instincts. He doubted there were actually monsters under the bed, but there might well be something odd that needed to be dealt with, perhaps a disloyal servant passing on information to one of the factions in Elerion''s court.


    Kagami stared at the other kitsune and just barely managed to keep from ripping the other woman limb from limb. Behind her, her tails stirred restlessly, motes of emerald light flickering in and out of existence as a multitude of half-formed spells trembled in the air. Elerion was taking Hikari on another jaunt through the marketplace, which was quite fortunate. It would be a shame if her lover or their daughter had to deal with this... mess.


    "Please!" the kitsune cried, flinging herself at the ground. "Spare me!"


    Doomwing''s construct ignored the wailing fox woman. "I caught her sneaking into Hikari''s room. I believe she used a combination of shadow walking and dream walking to penetrate the castle''s defences."


    "That could work," Kagami conceded. Shadow walking allowed someone to travel through shadows, and dream walking could be used to move between the physical world and the dreaming lands. Although the castle had formidable magical defences, they had been constructed mostly by humans with Kagami adding a few defences of her own. Defences of the kind she employed around her residence in the realm of the kitsune simply weren''t possible given the materials and the political situation Elerion had to manage. Even so, the defences they had in place should have been enough. "Especially if they knew what sort of defences were in place."


    The construct considered the matter for a moment. "The culprit is a kitsune. Treachery is clearly involved."


    "You knew about the palace''s defences, didn''t you?" Kagami directed her question to the cowering kitsune. "Speak." The kitsune remained silent, and Kagami snarled. "Speak!" There was magic behind the command this time, and the other woman''s nose began to bleed as she tried to fight off the compulsion. Kagami''s eyes glowed emerald, and her tails went taut. "You will speak."


    The other kitsune began to speak.


    Once Kagami was confident that she had learned everything she could, she used a flick of her wrist and a spell to decapitate the other kitsune. She flopped onto the ground, and Kagami used magic to capture the blood that spilled across the ground before using another spell to destroy the body.


    "Was that necessary?" Doomwing''s construct asked. "She might have had value as a prisoner."


    Upon being refused, Kagami had immediately attacked the pagoda. Kitsune were masters of trickery, deception, illusions, and mental interference. Few of them were experts in the sort of bloody, visceral combat that Marcus had cut his teeth on. But Kagami was. She was older than all of the people in the pagoda, old enough to remember when the kitsune had been forced to flee in the aftermath of the Fifth Catastrophe, and she had fought a bloody war of succession when her siblings had tried to usurp her after her mother''s death. These kitsune had enjoyed lives of relative peace thanks to the strength of Kagami''s rule and the lack of outside threats.


    Evidently, they had forgotten just how Kagami had secured her leadership, and they had confused her often easy-going nature with weakness.


    He doubted they would make that mistake again. Ever. Since most of them were dead or in the process of dying.


    Kagami had torn her way up through the pagoda, leaving mostly carnage in her wake. Those who had the intelligence to surrender were given the chance to lay down their arms, and Marcus had used magic to restrain them. Those who chose to fight died. Horribly. Something most people forgot was that a kitsune''s tails were prehensile. Kagami was excellent with a spear, and she had nine tails. Yeah. A woman with a spear who could wield up to nine other weapons while using illusions and mind control to completely confuse her opponents was an enemy that none of the pagoda''s defenders were ready to face.


    And now they were at the top of the pagoda where the leaders of the group were busy begging for their lives. Honestly, Marcus wouldn''t have spared them. He would have dragged them off to endure a quick trial where all of their misdeeds were aired for the public to see before having them executed as a warning to anyone else thinking of trying to do the same thing.


    Kagami had decided to skip straight to the execution part.


    It was honestly a little worrying to see, but Marcus could understand. This sort of treachery had to be torn out root and branch. it could not be allowed to fester, and people could not be allowed to think it was tolerable. Moreover, what the elders had planned for Hikari was the sort of thing that would drive any parent to violence. They hadn''t planned on killing her. Instead, the plan was to kidnap her and then ransom her back to Kagami in exchange for various concessions. However, that wasn''t their true objective. Instead, they had planned to use the time Hikari was in their hands to implant certain mental compulsions that would allow them to control her and turn her against Kagami.


    Kagami was too powerful for them to confront directly. But would she be able to defend herself from an assassination attempt that came from her beloved youngest child?


    It was sickening, but Marcus could see the ruthless logic in it too. Kagami truly loved her children. She would absolutely hesitate if Hikari tried to assassinate her, and with the right preparation and equipment, that could prove fatal. It wouldn''t be any time soon, of course. It would take a while for Hikari to have the strength to pose any sort of threat to Kagami. They might even have to wait centuries, but they could afford to wait. They were kitsune.


    And now the leaders of the group were all dead, save for the most senior members who were likely only being spared for further interrogation and then extremely public execution. Florid starbursts of blood stained the walls, floor, and ceiling, and Kagami''s normally pristine robes were drenched. She could easily have used magic to clean them or keep them from being dirtied in the first place, but she had been too enraged to care.


    As the cowering survivors were taken away by Kagami''s retainers who had finally arrived, Marcus looked for a place to sit that wasn''t covered in blood before realising there really wasn''t anywhere available. Instead, he continued to stand, glad that he''d been standing back far enough to avoid the worst of the mess. It wasn''t as though Kagami had really needed his help.


    "Feeling better?" Marcus asked.


    "No." Kagami had put her swords away, but her spear was still gripped tightly in her hands. It was a masterpiece, forged by dwarves in the Third Age and handed down through her family. According to Doomwing, it had been made by one of the legends of that Age, a dwarf whose skills had been considered truly exceptional even amongst dwarves. Supposedly, the dwarves of the Sixth Age no longer possessed the skills to make such weapons, and Kagami had been offered an obscene amount of wealth for it by the dwarf kings of the Sky Claw Mountains. She had refused, of course. "Not really."


    "Well, you certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself."


    "They got what they deserved." She snarled. "They were not there when I had to fight my siblings for my birthright. They would have mired us in bloodshed until there was nothing left of us but dwindling memories in the dreaming lands. They were not there when our numbers were so few that many of us had to look elsewhere for people to have children with. They were not there when those same children proved themselves, giving their lives to help fend off the horrors of the deep dreaming or risking everything to leave our realm and bring back much-needed supplies when Dreamsong entered seclusion. A kitsune cannot choose how pure their blood is, for no child can choose its parents. What matters are actions, and their actions have shown them for who they truly are... traitors. And to think they would even use my own daughter against me..."


    "There will always be people like them," Marcus said. "The trick is dealing with them before they get out of hand."


    "Yes. There have always been people like them," Kagami said. "But maybe there shouldn''t be."


    Marcus sighed. "Come on. Let''s get you cleaned up. You''re going to have to make a statement about this, and I doubt you want to do that covered in blood."


    "Perhaps it would be more effective," Kagami drawled. "As a reminder that there are lines that shouldn''t be crossed."


    "At least wring out your clothes and hair. You''re dripping blood everywhere."

 Chapter 31: The King Prepares

    Chapter 31: The King Prepares


    Harald walked through the freshly hewn halls of his people and smiled. It had been more than a month since he and his followers had settled into what they were calling the Twin Peaks. They had chosen to build their first settlement in the eastern peak since it had the best landing site for the sky ship.


    Progress had been swift. Unlike humans or elves, dwarves were not restricted to simply digging with whatever tools they could make. No. Dwarves were sons of rock and stone and earth. Even the weakest dwarf was capable of learning some earth magic, and they could use their earth magic to vastly increase the speed and safety of excavation.


    There were few dwarves with the raw strength to simply carve out halls and chambers with magic alone. However, there were many dwarves amongst his followers who could use their magic to soften even hard rock into something their stout tools could deal with easily. It became more like shovelling loose sand or gravel than hewing through solid stone.


    "Birger!" Harald called. "How is our progress?"


    The stout dwarf fell into step beside him as Harald continued his walk toward the entrance of their new home. Birger was a poor warrior and a mediocre craftsman, but there were few who understood the earth the way he did. He was in charge of excavation, not only for living quarters but also for mining and defence. Birger was of an age with Harald''s eldest son, Leif, and the two had been friends since childhood. Harald had counselled Leif to maintain that friendship. There were few more important to the proper functioning of a dwarf settlement than those who had mastered the art of delving into the earth.


    "It goes well, my king. We are continuing to carve out living quarters, and there have been no setbacks. We have also made good progress in carving out chambers to grow food. If anything, our people are overeager. I have had to enforce rests and breaks upon my workers."


    Harald chuckled. "Can you blame them? We lived as exiles for decades, and now we have a mountain of our own one filled with riches! Who would not wish to act swiftly?"


    "Aye, that is true." Birger chuckled. As usual, his hands were coated in a thin layer of dirt. His earth magic was potent indeed, but it required physical contact to be at its best. Tucked into the belt at his waist was a magical cloth that could clean his hands in a moment. It was much more convenient than using water. "But we have time now, and it is better to get it right the first time."Updated from


    Harald grinned. It was a much better problem to have than wondering if their homes would be able to withstand the next winter or heavy rain. "What of the mines and defences?"


    "We have dug several tunnels and shafts already in accordance with your directions," Birger said. "Our miners have confirmed your suspicions." He gave Harald a shrewd glance. "Your prospecting magic is potent indeed, my king. We are fortunate to have you."


    Harald had never said where he had learned it, but Birger was no fool. He had not possessed it before, but they had sworn oaths of loyalty to a certain flying, fire-breathing font of magical knowledge. "Just make sure the tunnels and shafts are properly reinforced. We will be using them for quite some time."


    It would take them millennia to mine out the mountain, so great was its wealth. Harald would have to speak to the miners once again. Like any dwarf, they would be tempted to focus on what was most valuable first. However, they needed to devote a suitable portion of their efforts to more practical materials, especially those that could be used for defence.


    With their fortress deep in Doomwing''s territory, there was little chance of an attack by some rival kingdom. However, the mountains and foothills at the edge of the volcanic region were rife with monsters and other wildlife. Some, such as the hardy mountain goats that traipsed up the steep slopes with ease, could be domesticated or hunted without much difficulty. Others, however, such as the wyverns, drakes, giant lizards, and various other reptiles were more troublesome.


    It would have been easy for Doomwing to simply annihilate anything that could threaten them, but Harald could see the test for what it was. Doomwing had given them a land filled with riches. It was now up to them to prove they were worthy of it. If they had to run to him for help whenever a monster so much as looked their way, they could not call themselves proper dwarves, nor could Harald call himself a proper king.


    Their rocs had done much to aid them, patrolling the skies and helping them keep monsters at bay. They had also had some success in negotiating with the younger and smaller wyverns. Due to their size and youth, they were often forced away from the best hunting grounds, forced to eke out livings in less hospitable areas where they were often preyed upon by the hydras, drakes, and manticores that stalked the slopes.


    In exchange for serving as their mounts, these younger wyverns were allowed to roost near the settlement in areas the dwarves had hewn out of the stone. A young wyvern was no match for an adult roc in the air, but wyverns grew larger with age although they would likely stop growing once they were similar in size to a roc. They were not like dragons and drakes who would grow until the day they died. Still, simply having more fliers at their disposal made them safe, for even the most vicious manticore or drake was unlikely to attack a group of half a dozen other fliers.


    Hydras were another story. The multi-headed reptiles were fierce, and their acid, venom, and corrosive blood made fighting them a nightmare, to say nothing of their regeneration. Harald had ordered the forging of hydra-resistant armour that made use of their dwindling supplies of rare materials. They needed protection now, and those materials would soon be replaced as their mining operations got underway.


    They also had the Stalwart Guard, and the sky ship had proven to be a deadly weapon against the hydras. Its magical and mundane weaponry combined with its ability to fly allowed it to attack hydras from a safe distance and to devastating effect. Hydras could regenerate, but that regeneration had limits. Being blown into thousands of bloody chunks by the magical cannons of the Stalwart Guard surpassed those limits.


    They had used the sky ship to scour the mountain of the most aggressive hydras, and those that remained knew to give the dwarves a wide berth. That had given them the time they needed to construct more cannons and other defences around their settlement. They were still unable to make anything that could match the power and range of the Stalwart Guard''s weaponry, but his craftsmen could still make weapons of similar power to those used in the Sky Claw Mountains.


    They were fortunate that the only hydras that lived upon the mountain were of the lesser sort, with the mightiest only possessing a mere four heads. An ancient hydra a beast possessing seven or more heads would have been a threat to even the Stalwart Guard, and Harald would have been forced to call upon Doomwing for aid if such a beast had been found.


    Harald could still remember the stories he''d been told of the time a nine-headed hydra had laid siege to the kingdoms of the Sky Claw Mountains. They had been forced to band together to face it, dispatching multiple armies and dozens of heroes of renown. They had all perished, and the hydra had only been slain when the dwarves had reached out to a dragon in desperation.


    They had offered the dragon an absolutely exorbitant sum to deal with the hydra. Even so, the battle had been fierce. According to legend, the dragon had been seriously wounded before emerging victorious. If accounts were to be believed, the hydra had measured almost a quarter of a mile in length, with the dragon being of similar size. Not even the famed armour of the dwarves had been able to withstand the hydra''s acid, and its size and bulk had allowed it to tear open the gates of multiple cities to attack those within.


    Of course, even such a foe would be nothing before Doomwing. The primordial dragon could easily crush it with a single blow or annihilate it with magic.


    Harald had ordered his alchemists to carefully collect the remains of the hydras they had slain. The scales of a hydra could be ground into powder that could be added to certain alloys to vastly increase their resistance to acid and other corrosive agents. A hydra''s blood and venom were both deadly toxins. Arrows and other weapons dipped into them would soon corrode, but their killing power would be vastly increased.


    Basilisks, drakes, and the other monsters that lurked nearby were all loath to risk wounds from weapons dipped in hydra blood or venom. It might not kill them immediately, but it would weaken them, and the dwarves had many bows and crossbows available. It was simply not worth the risk, so they would look elsewhere for prey.


    Harald would have to keep a close eye on the hydra population. Wiping it out might be gratifying, but they were a source of many useful materials. Could they be reared as livestock? Unlikely. Hydras were too intelligent and prideful for that to work. It might be best to manage them, killing off any that grew too strong while allowing the weaker ones to survive away from the settlement. Alternatively, they could wipe them all out and seek out hydras elsewhere. His scouts had already reported many groups of them on neighbouring mountains and amidst the foothills and plains.


    "Our defences are also proceeding well," Birger said. "As per your instructions, we have focused on fortifying the entrance and establishing outposts nearby that give us full view of our surroundings."


    "Good." Harald paused to greet the guards near the entrance. Theirs was a tiresome duty until there was trouble, then it could get very exciting in all the wrong sorts of ways. "We are not so many yet that we can afford to meet any foe we encounter in open battle. It is better to let the mountain fight on our behalf. If we can see our foes coming, then we can retreat into the mountain and let them break upon our fortifications. We also require time to launch the Stalwart Guard, and the sky ship remains our greatest weapon."


    It was sobering to remember that the sky ship was a mere ''destroyer'' and that there had once been far more powerful vessels to sail the skies. But the Stalwart Guard would not be alone forever. He and his people would work hard to unlock its secrets, and then they would build sky ships of their own.


    Harald spoke a bit more with Birger, but all was going according to his expectations. His followers were hard-working folk, and they all knew how important it was not to squander the opportunity they''d been given. They had resigned themselves to lives of exile, but they had been given a chance to rise higher than they ever imagined possible. Unlike the old kingdoms of the Sky Claw Mountains where it could be almost impossible for a dwarf of common blood to rise above their station, Harald''s new kingdom was full of opportunities.


    Back when they had lived around the excavation of the sky ship, rank amongst his followers had been determined by merit. He had made it clear that he intended to continue that policy. He would not have a nobility comprised of backbiters and schemers. Instead, those who contributed the most to the kingdom''s success could expect the greatest rewards. Better dwarves whose hands were worn from mining, crafting, fighting, and building than dwarves who knew only soft beds and council chambers.


    Outside, Harald savoured the brisk wind upon his face and the panoramic view of the landscape. It was not the land of his birth, but there was beauty to be found amidst the rolling hills, rising peaks, and the land of fire and ruin to their north. Great plumes of ash and smoke filled the north, and the volcanic glow of rivers of lava could be seen even from afar.


    The doppelganger touched a claw to his chest, and Harald could suddenly see into himself. A network of light appeared within him, and he realised that he must be seeing his magical circulatory system.


    "That is your magical circulatory system. From your expression, I can see you have some familiarity with it."


    "Yes. We are taught of it as children," Harald said. "However, I have never seen it so clearly before. Even the exercises we are given as warriors to help shape it only allow for a crude grasp of it, more intuitive than anything else."


    "I will teach you how to perceive it more directly. It will be useful. In any case, what is important is that dwarves naturally draw in magic from their surroundings. They use this magic to increase the size of their reserves and to expand their magical circulatory system. These two processes will strengthen a dwarf. This process is natural and occurs automatically and without conscious effort."


    "I have been told something along those lines," Harald said. Experts in this sort of magical theory were rare amongst the dwarves. They tended to focus on more practical areas, especially since they lacked the tools to investigate it properly.


    "Not all people work the same way. Humans, for instance, must be taught to absorb magic from their surroundings, and the process of absorbing magic, refining it, and then using it to expand their reserves is not natural for them either. In fact, many who attempt to learn how will perish in the attempt."


    Harald blinked. "That seems unfortunate. Is that why we are stronger than them?"


    "Yes and no. Even without magic, the average dwarf is stronger than the average human. However, dwarves'' instinctive and automatic absorption of magic exaggerates this difference. However humans do have one advantage over dwarves in this area."


    "What is that?"


    "A human who learns to absorb magic from their surroundings can absorb and purify any form of magic, at least in theory. This means that a human can live on a mountain, beside the sea, or even in a desert, and as long as the ambient magic is sufficient, they can continue to grow in strength. Dwarves are sons of rock and stone and earth. The only forms of magic your bodies can properly process are magics associated with those things, particularly when they come from a mountain or similar area that you have close ties with. In exchange for your weakness away from your mountain homes, there are few who can match your might within them."


    "Then the weakness you spoke of"


    "Yes. What you refer to as homesickness is weakness caused by no longer having access to large quantities of the right kind of magic. Exiles are weak because they are cut off from the magic they have grown used to having access to their entire lives. Over time, this weakness becomes greater and greater to the point that exiled dwarves have no hope of challenging those who continue to live in their homes."


    "Then the wanderers, those who have survived without a mountain to call their own for generations, they must be weaker still."


    "Yes." Vngr nodded. "Think about it. Why else would they continue to wander instead of seizing a home for themselves? After a few generations, they grow so weak that they are only slightly stronger than normal humans."


    "Then what of my people?" Harald asked. "We have a home now and a mountain of our own."


    "You and your people will be fine. Even now, your bodies are being re-energised by the rich magic of this mountain. Soon, you will be linked to this mountain and this area in much the same way as you were once linked to the Sky Claw Mountains. Within a year, it will be as if you were never driven from your homes."


    "How long does this weakness take to emerge?" Harald asked. No wonder his instructors in warfare had always cautioned him about taking troops outside the mountains for too long. Even if they had not known the cause, they had still understood that dwarves were weaker away from the mountains.


    "You need not be upon or inside the mountain itself to receive strength from its magic. Merely being close enough will suffice. In fact, given the sheer strength of magic in my domain, I would say that you will not suffer weakness while you remain in this area. Should you leave it, however, it would take about a month for a normal dwarf to feel any noticeable weakness. After a year, though, they would definitely feel less energetic and capable."


    "How did the dwarves of the Third Age deal with this problem?" Harald asked. "For they lived upon sky ships and not inside mountains."


    "The sky ships themselves solved the problem," Vngr replied. "You lack the skills for it, but in time, you will understand that the core of each sky ship radiates magic of the right type for dwarves. Although dwarves can only process certain types of magic, the same is not true for the cores themselves. They can process and absorb any type of magic, and there are functions built into them that allow them to radiate a steady field of magic associated with rock and stone and earth." Vngr''s lips curled. "You felt more energetic on the sky ship, right?"


    Harald nodded. "I thought that was simply the thrill of flying."


    "That played a part, yes, but that was not all of it." Vngr chuckled. "In the past, dwarf lords would carry artifacts that did something similar with their armies to let them march freely beyond the mountains. There are also small devices that can be worn that will help, but the art of making those appears to have been lost to you."


    "Do you know it?"


    "Of course, and I will teach it if there are any who can learn." Vngr bared his teeth in a smile. "Would your son be able to rule in your place for a while?"


    "Leif? I believe so. Why do you ask?"


    "Soon, a great tournament will be held in a neighbouring kingdom. I intend for one of my followers, the princess, to make a suitable impression there. I believe she will be able to recruit many people. I have been informed by the king there who rules at my behest that several groups of exiled dwarves are present. Apparently, they are searching for work and lands where they may live for a time."


    Harald smiled back. "And you want me to recruit them?"


    "Yes. In fact, I want you to go with Doomwing in the Stalwart Guard. Show them what you have accomplished and speak to them of the lands you have been given. I believe they will be more amenable to the offer if you make it, rather than Doomwing."


    "What would happen to them?" Harald asked.


    "They would either live here as your followers, sworn directly to you, or they would found settlements of their own elsewhere. You would still rule over them as king as I have promised you but they would manage their own settlements, with their leader acting as a lord below you in rank and station."


    "I see. Yes, that should work. When do we leave?"


    "As soon as you are able."

 Chapter 32: The Princess Is Lucky

    Chapter 32: The Princess Is Lucky


    Antaria no longer screamed when Doomwing''s construct carried her high up into the air and then dropped her. No, screaming wasted air, and she needed air to think. It had taken her multiple falls and no shortage of bruises, broken bones, and other injuries to finally master a lesser rune of gliding.


    The fact that it was a lesser rune thrilled her. Basic runes were already powerful, and lesser runes were a step above them. Better still, it was a rune associated with flight. Admittedly, gliding wasn''t the same thing as flying, but it was very close. Supposedly, the next step up would be floating followed by actual flight.


    Rather than flail around like an idiot and then crash into the ground, Antaria activated her lesser rune of gliding and spread her arms and legs. She had taken inspiration from some of the squirrels that lived in Daphne''s tree. They had flaps between their wrists and ankles that allowed them to glide.


    Antaria didn''t have those flaps, but that didn''t matter. When it came to runes, Doomwing had explained that intentions were often more important than practicalities. She was changing the story of the world, but the story wouldn''t change if she refused to believe in those changes. So she pictured those squirrels in her mind, spread her arms and legs like they did, and believed she could glide.


    And she did.


    What should have been a terrifying fall followed by an impact that added another crater to the ground was instead turned into a pleasant glide through the air. She was even confident enough to do a few tricks before finally touching down with a flourish.


    "How was that?" Antaria asked, puffing her chest out and accepting the congratulations of the various animals who''d come out to watch. Sure, they had originally delighted in her failure, but they were now revelling in her success. Daphne was there too, and the dryad clapped politely. "Pretty good, right?"


    "It was acceptable," Doomwing''s construct said. "You will soon be ready for a rune of floating."


    "Can we do that today?" Antaria asked. "I''m just bursting with energy."


    And she was. Regardless of how brutal her training was or how exhausted she felt when she crawled into bed, she felt energised and ready for more in the morning. According to Doomwing, it was due to her improved magic circulatory system and the increasingly dense ambient magic that filled through the area. Even the daily agony of learning to control her magical circulatory system better was manageable. Sure, it hurt, but the benefits were obvious and growing each and every day.


    The monsters under her command were also pleased. Many of them had ascended further, with some of them attain some particularly intriguing forms. For example, the wolf pups, who were now as big as she was, had turned into what Doomwing''s construct called wind wolves. Apparently, they could now harness wind magic to run faster and augment their attacks. In time, he was hopefully they could ascend further, perhaps into sky wolves that could actually fly. Their mother had actually already reached that point, and the female wolf had delighted in flying circles around Antaria during her many trips to greet the ground with her face.


    Doomwing believed that Antaria''s increase in power had affected the monsters under her command. Supposedly, monsters typically ascended in ways that reflected their situation or the abilities of their ''boss''. Since Antaria was in charge of them, it wasn''t surprising that their magical affinities had come to resemble hers.


    If only she could have gotten the ability to fly first oh well. She''d get there soon, and then she''d show the mother wolf who was boss.


    Probably the biggest surprise had been a giant boar creature the villagers had taken to calling him a hell boar due to his enormous size, spiky hide, and gigantic tusks who couldn''t fly but who could launch himself like a boulder from a catapult, soaring up and then crashing down into his foes to devastating effect. It looked absolutely ridiculous, but the boar seemed to enjoy doing it, and the damage was undeniable. Daphne had banned him from using the attack anywhere near the fields after he''d almost damaged some of them.


    The boar had bristled and refused right up until Daphne had pinned him to the ground with roots while several of her tree folk threatened to turn his insides into his outsides. It was strangely gratifying to see the dryad demonstrate her ability to terrify people when necessary. Hmm Doomwing must be rubbing off on her.


    "Not yet. There is something else we must do. My actual body will be arriving soon, and then we will be departing for your kingdom. To add to our prestige, I wish to bring along several monsters. However, Daphne pointed out that bringing some of the larger monsters might give the wrong impression."


    "That we''re evil and want to kill everybody?" Antaria loved having the wolf pups around they were so cuddly and adorable but she could also see how they would terrify normal people. The wolf pups were as big as she was and perfectly capable of turning the average person into a bloody smear in a matter of seconds.


    "Yes. To solve that issue, Daphne suggested we use some of her animals. Apparently, there are some amongst them who also wish to ascend and who have now attained the power and wisdom required to do so. They merely need a catalyst to spark their ascension."


    Antaria turned to eye the array of animals on Daphne''s branches sceptically. "What if we just end up with giant squirrels with burning eyes and swords for tails?"


    "There are ways to preserve their general size and shape while still allowing them to gain power. This will provide us with minions who are both formidable and adorable." The construct nodded sagely. "Such creatures were quite popular in the Sixth Age. Indeed, Elerion was most displeased when he was unable to secure enough badger warriors for an actual squad."


    "Badger warriors?" Antaria asked.


    "Similar in size and appearance to normal badgers but capable of wielding magic and far, far stronger in combat. Elerion was only able to find three, and they all refused to join. Just one of them would provide you with a decent challenge although I think you would be victorious more often than not."


    "Is that so?" Maybe it was the blood of her great ancestor flowing through her veins, but now that she''d heard about them, Antaria kind of wanted some badger warriors too. "So, wait, how are we going to do this?"


    "The process is simple. However, the outcome will also rely heavily on luck."


    The raccoon in question gave her a jaunty salute, seemingly unbothered by the fact that she was about to drown it.


    "Proceed," Doomwing said. "I have healing magic at the ready."


    Antaria had to turn away when the raccoon thrashed underwater before finally going still. However, a burst of light had her turning back as the raccoon leapt out of the water with a triumphant cry. The creature''s eyes were now glowing a radiant green, and a twig flew up from the ground and transformed into a gnarled staff.


    "Interesting." Doomwing''s construct activated its magic. "He appears to be a druid of some kind. Excellent. He can help supervise the tree folk and assist in growing crops. With his aid, you will also be able to spread your influence even wider."


    Daphne hugged the raccoon tightly. "I''m glad you''re okay."


    The raccoon nuzzled her back, and then patted her cheek with his little paws before hopping onto her shoulder and brandishing his staff. A burst of green light came from the end of the staff, and flower petals drifted through the air.


    "As you can see, the increase in power and utility is swift and impressive. Although such creatures typically are not suitable for frontline combat, many of them are quite useful in other ways, which is fine since tree folk are generally better fighters anyway." The construct picked up a squirrel with telekinesis and dunked it into the pool. "Let us see what I get."


    The result was a squirrel who could store items in some sort of folded space that allowed it to carry stuff around with relative ease.


    "Not the best result," the construct grumbled. "But passable. At present the folded space occupies a volume of perhaps a cubic foot. With time, however, it should grow. More importantly, the weight of objects in the folded space is massively reduced to the point that the squirrel can carry even a cubic foot of rock with ease."


    "I guess it''s my turn, now, right?" Antaria said. She walked over a raccoon who had frequently bet on her succeeding unlike most of his peers. He gave her a cheerful smile and what passed for a thumb''s up. "Well best of luck, little guy."


    She held him under the water and looked away. A few moments later, he burst free of her grip and landed nimbly atop her head. Then he vanished only to reappear next to Doomwing''s construct before reappearing on one of Daphne''s protruding roots and then one of her branches.


    The construct stared at the raccoon and then turned to give Antaria a glare. "It would seem that you are especially fortunate. The raccoon has been blessed by the pool."


    "Oh?" Antaria wasn''t sure why, but she felt rather happy about that. "What did he get?"


    "He received two powerful abilities shadow walking and tree walking. Shadow walking allows him to travel through shadows while tree walking allows him to travel through trees. The former has obvious application whilst the latter does not refer to simply leaping from tree to tree. Instead, if he is in contact with a tree, he can travel through it to any other part of that same tree or to a nearby tree."


    Daphne''s eyes widened. "Then he could travel from my trunk all the way to where my roots end?" The raccoon struck a pose, preened, and then did exactly that, vanishing and then reappearing before collapsing in a heap.


    "Naturally, both abilities incur a certain cost, and his reserves are not yet so large that he can use them freely. He will have to work hard to increase them if he wishes to take full advantage of his abilities."


    Antaria sighed. "How come I didn''t get any awesome abilities when I got stronger?"


    "You are human. Humans are not blessed with many innate abilities unlike monsters. However, the path that monsters walk is far less flexible. Almost every single thing that the raccoon learns as he ascends further will be tied to those two abilities. His skillset will forever be narrower and more focused than yours ease of use and immediate power at the expense of versatility and choice. Moreover, his progress will be much slower than yours since the Pool of Ascension is a forceful process, bringing into the present what would have been gained in the future. I believe the First Gods gave this ability to Mother Tree and dryads to help them when they were young since a young dryad is neither mobile enough to avoid danger nor strong enough to easily fight it off. Being able to quickly raise helpers is undoubtedly quite useful."


    "I guess" Antaria grinned. This was kind of fun. "So we''re going through the rest of the animals here, right?"


    "That is the idea."


    By the time they had finished, perhaps half of the animals had managed to ascend. Doomwing''s construct considered that a remarkable result, likely driven by the close bond between Daphne and her animals. It was confident that the remainder would also ascend with a few more attempts. However, the construct was not totally pleased by the results not because the ascended animals had failed to gain any useful abilities but because the animals the construct had thrown in had been the least impressive by a noticeable margin.


    "Bah!" the construct grumbled. "I will do better next time. Besides, this isn''t even my real body. I''m sure my real body would do better"


    "Maybe you''re just not as lucky as me," Antaria said. "But on the upside, we got a bunch of suitable minions to bring along, right?"


    "Yes," the construct conceded. "We shall take a dozen of the most suitable. My real body will be arriving in two days. That should be sufficient time to train them to a decent standard since usage of their abilities is mostly instinctive anyway. As for you we shall try a rune of floating. Consider it a reward to go with your good fortune."

 Chapter 33: The Dragon And The Dwarf Talk

    Chapter 33: The Dragon And The Dwarf Talk


    Corundum was the other special doppelganger that Doomwing had brought along. With Vngr staying behind at the dwarven settlement, it was his duty to accompany the sky ship on its journey to the great tournament. However, they first had to pick up Antaria, as well as a few ascended animals.


    Doomwing himself was flying alongside the sky ship whilst Corundum lingered on the deck, standing silent sentry beside Harald as the dwarf gazed out over the railing. There were only a handful of clouds, which left the moon free to illuminate both the sky and the lands below in pale silver light. It was an impressive view although Harald could not enjoy it the way Corundum could. Even as a doppelganger, his sight and other senses were far keener than any dwarf''s. Still, the sight must have pleased the recently crowned king because there was a small smile on his lips, and the tension that had clung tightly to him for much the day had given way to an ease that a dwarf half his age would have envied.


    Truly, Harald had been born to seek the skies. It was just a pity that his loyal roc was no longer with him. Dooming and by extension, Corundum had never thought too highly of rocs. The ones he had encountered in the past had either fled at the mere sight of him or had postured as though their threat displays and cries meant anything at all to a dragon. From how Harald had described him, Goldwing would likely have been tolerable, and such loyalty as the bird had shown was to be commended.


    And the bird had deserved a better end. To be so old and feeble that he could no longer fly? The bird had fought in many battles and proven himself many times over. He should have died in battle, his beak and claws stained with the blood of his enemies, his loud, pealing cry echoing over the mountains. At least Harald had honoured him properly, scattering his ashes from the tallest peak of the Sky Claw Mountains. The skies had been taken from Goldwing in life, so it was fitting that he be returned to them in death.


    If the day should come that Doomwing fell, he could only hope that his end would be better. Let him meet death with fire and claw and teeth. Let his magic rage and his flame howl. Let the enemy know the full measure of his might, and if that was not enough, then let his last moments be worthy of remembrance that he might enter the cycle of death and rebirth with a roar and not a whimper. His parents had given their lives for him, and so had others over the years. He would not shame them by falling easily. Let none say that Doomwing lived his life in vain!


    Was it the moon, or was it the wind? Perhaps it was the stars and the landscape spread out beneath them. Whatever it was, he found himself in a contemplative mood, his thoughts venturing to places and people far off in space and time, all of them lost save for in his memories and the slowly dwindling echoes they''d left behind in the dreaming lands.


    "Why are you named Corundum?" Harald asked. The dwarf was staring up at the sky now, to the constellation that his people called the Hammer. Corundum could remember Doomwing''s lessons with Mother Tree. The dryads called those stars the Forked Bough, and the merfolk referred to it as the Trident. Honestly, he didn''t think it looked much like any of those, but he could understand the temptation to name them. The brightest star in the constellation was easy to see, even on cloudy nights, and there was something comforting about its light.


    The only time that Doomwing could ever recall seeing that star vanishing was when the Exiled Star had come. Was it another living star then, perhaps a more benevolent one? Maybe. But if it was, it had never left the heavens, nor had it spoken as the Exiled Star had often done, his voice at once heavenly and infernal, each word accompanied by the soul-piercing music of the spheres.


    "What do the scales of my real body remind you of?" Corundum asked.


    Harald''s gaze drifted to where Doomwing flew, a cloud of sapphire and ruby, more resplendent in the moonlight than any gem the dwarves had ever dug up from the earth. "Sapphires and rubies ah." His lips twitched. "I see."


    "Yes. As any decent alchemist can tell you, sapphires and rubies are both variants of the mineral known as corundum. Only certain trace impurities give them different colours. And yet those minute differences give rise to such contrasts, both aesthetically and magically. Doomwing thought it fitting to name me after the origin of the gems that are most frequently likened to his scales."


    "Seems as good a reason as any," Harald replied. Despite the late hour, his eyes were still keen. It was common for the youngest dwarves to sleep early and rise late, but older dwarves slept late and rose early. Ragnar had once said it was because the old had no time left to waste, but it was common amongst many species for the youngest to need more sleep.


    "It also seemed fitting since I will be the doppelganger assigned to Daphne and Antaria." Corundum flexed his wings. They were rather large for his size, but they still had the general appearance and proportions of a hatchling''s wings. "I or rather, Doomwing trained Antaria''s ancestor. He was fond of alchemy but he was absolutely hopeless at it, as in he genuinely possessed zero talent for it and his magic was completely incompatible with it too."


    Harald chuckled. "It reminds me of my luck with instruments. I''ve a fine voice for speaking, and I''m a decent enough singer, but I''ve been trying my hand at the fiddle for decades now, and I swear I''m little better than where I started."


    "Elerion found the idea of being able to transform matter and energy fascinating. Alas, his magic was geared almost entirely toward enhancement. He could have learned the rituals and procedures, but his magic was so specialised that even those would have been difficult for him. He always found it amusing that corundum could give rise to gems with such different appearances. He said it reminded him of people."


    "How so?" Harald asked. He had a gourd full of stout dwarven whiskey, and he took a small sip from it before offering some to Corundum.


    "You said this was only a copy," Harald stared intently at the opal in his hands. "What became of the original?"


    "I gave it to Stormtooth," Doomwing said. "And she was most pleased with it. It took pride of place in her hoard, and she was forever saying that she would get me a suitable gift in return upon my Second Awakening." He paused. "She never did keep that promise, however. She perished right before my Second Awakening."


    "I''m sorry," Harald said. He made to give the opal back, but Corundum shook his head.


    "Keep it. It matters little," Corundum said. "I only ask that you remember the words I have spoken." He stared at the moon. "After she died, I went to her hoard. All of her kin perished alongside her, and she had never been too good at making friends. She was too much for most dragons stubborn, foolish, and never the smartest, but she was loyal, and in my youth, she was my finest friend. I took her hoard for myself, and I have kept it ever since."


    "All this time?" Harald whispered. "How many years is that?"


    "Too many years, some would say," Corundum replied. "But not enough, others would argue, for the memories have yet to fade. We would talk, she and I, of all the great deeds we would accomplish when we had Awakened further. We would be legends in our own lifetimes, fighting battles worthy of story and song, our names known in every corner of the world." His gaze hardened. "She died at the hands of an enemy so mighty, he likely never even knew she existed. There was no glorious death for her, no passing worthy of remembrance."


    "Yet you remember her," Harald said. "That must be worth something, right?"


    "Yes. I suppose it is." Corundum chuckled. "Stormtooth never had the chance to do great deeds and become a legend. But that is why I kept her hoard. In many ways, a dragon''s hoard is a concrete expression of their dreams and aspirations. As long as I have her hoard, her dreams are not dead. We could not reach our dreams together, but I have been able to reach them for both of us."


    Harald looked at him for a long moment, and a single tear trickled down the dwarf''s cheek. It was fitting, perhaps, because Corundum could shed no tears, for Doomwing''s had run dry long ago. Carefully, Harald reached into his tunic and took out a charm that hung upon a necklace. It was made of roc feathers. "I burned Goldwing, as was his wish, and in accordance with the ways of my people. But I kept these feathers and had them made into a charm." He pointed to the dwarven writing carved onto the charm. "Do you know what this says?"


    "Together," Corundum said. "That is what it says."


    "Aye. Goldwing had gone as far as he could, and I would not shame him by denying him the burial he had earned with his great deeds. But I wanted some part of him to be with me, for no truer friend could I have asked for. Too short did he live, and unfitting was his ending, but at least some part of him can accompany me on the rest of my journey, wherever that might take me." Harald tucked the charm back into his tunic. "When I pass, all that I have shall be given to my children and my people. No grave piled high with treasure for me, no tomb filled with swords and shields and spears. No. It will be the wind that takes me, and I shall be ash as my friend was. Let our journeys end the same way. Only the charm shall go with me, the last of him to pass with the last of me."


    Corundum nodded. "Rule well, Harald, and I will give you a pyre worthy of a king. Rule well, and it will not be a torch that sets you aflame. It will be dragon fire the fire of a dragon of the First Age."


    Harald''s lips curved up into a smile. "Aye aye, what a thing that would be. I''ll have to do my best then, if I am to prove worthy of that honour."


    "Indeed." Corundum chuckled. "In the Third Age it was custom to pour a drink out for those who passed, to give it to the winds and the sky. What say you to that?"


    Harald smiled and took up his gourd again. He opened it and tipped it out over the railing. "To Goldwing," he said. "And Stormtooth. To those who passed too lateor too early."


    Alongside the sky ship, Doomwing continued to fly, his gaze solemn as he watched the sky and land for threats. There were none, but still he watched. A faint smile crossed his lips. Each of his doppelgangers was just a little bit different from the others. How fitting that the one he''d named Corundum should be the most sentimental of the bunch.

 Chapter 34: The Princess and the King

    Chapter 34: The Princess and the King


    Harald gazed down at the sprawling fields full of thriving crops and felt a swell of emotion deep in his chest. Dwarves were renowned for their riches, for the wealth they drew up out of the earth. Gold, silver, jewels, and countless other rare and exotic materials were piled high in the great treasuries of the dwarves.


    And yet so much of their wealth was spent on food. For dwarves were not elves. Though rock and stone had ever bent to their will, the same could not be said of crops. Hands that could craft the most wondrous jewellery or the mightiest weapons seemed unable to draw life out of the earth.


    Some of it was simply the nature of their domain. Dwarves did best in deep caves or within soaring mountains. Such places were not kind to crops. Either the tearing winds and bitter cold killed them before they could grow, or the torch-lit interiors and cold gleam of magical lighting had them wither far from the warm light of the sun.


    To be sure, the dwarves had occasionally cut terraces into the mountainside and then set up pillars to hold magic that would warm the air and block the wind. Yet those terraces rarely lasted long. The cold was unrelenting and the wind seemed to blow fiercer, as if insulted by their attempts to conquer it. Worse, monsters would be drawn to the terraces, vile beasts who knew the dwarves would come to defend them. Without the mountain to shield them, such dwarves were often easy prey.


    Those few dwarves who had magic that could help them grow crops were honoured and prized above almost all others, gifted with high station and their choice of spouse, all in a bid to increase their numbers. Yet even in his brother''s kingdom, there were less than half a dozen such dwarves. Such magic often skipped generations or simply faded, never to appear again. Attempts to recruit outsiders had failed, either due to the extortionist demands they made or, more commonly, the inability of others to live as the dwarves did in halls of stone within the mountains or beneath the earth.


    And so his people, the stalwart lords beneath the earth and within the mountains, would have to trade their treasures for what others took for granted. He had seen the fields where humans, elves, and others grew their crops. As a young dwarf, he had marvelled at the heads of grain, heavy with golden wheat. He could still remember the first time he had seen an apple tree. The old human who had owned it had been so struck by his awe that he had plucked an apple from it and given it to Harald.


    He, a dwarf prince, had been moved almost to tears by such a simple thing. For the apples he had eaten had never been so fresh or given so freely. Instead, they were carefully preserved to survive the long journey from the fields to the Sky Claw Mountains, and each apple was expensive, a rare treat for any normal dwarf, and not something that even a prince could enjoy every day.


    Their famed dwarven liquors were so expensive because the dwarves themselves paid hefty sums for the grain needed to make them, and there was always a balance to be struck. Any food that was used to make liquor was not being eaten, and in lean years, that was simply not an indulgence they could afford.


    Harald could still taste that apple sometimes. Yet the taste turned bitter when he thought of the lean years, when those they bought their food from raised their prices or lowered supply. The dwarves would grumble and sometimes posture as if for war, but everyone knew what would happen. In the end, the dwarves would pay, and why not? The treasures of the earth were theirs for the taking. Yet in the lean years, when food had to be rationed, Harald sometimes wondered if the truest treasures were not the treasures of the earth but those of the field. For what good was gold if his stomach was empty and his people starving?


    One of Harald''s keenest memories was of his brother raging when he had received a missive from the humans they bought much of their food from. War had broken out amongst them, and some fool had gotten it into his head to burn the fields to deny them to the enemy.


    Burn the fields?


    Unthinkable. No dwarf would dare, and any who did would be cut down by their fellows for their madness. But to the humans, whose fields often swelled with produce, it was seemingly an easy decision to make. And yet, those burnt crops meant that the dwarves would have to pay even more for food, if they could even find enough food to buy.


    Doomwing had promised Harald that his lands were rich, and he had upheld that promise. Yet he had also spoken of the bounty that his lands could grow, and Harald had not been sure what to think. When they had passed this way before, there had been some crops but also clear signs of battle. Yet now those same fields were burgeoning with produce of every kind.


    There were vast fields of grains and vegetables, along with orchards of fruits. How could this have happened so quickly? And then Harald remembered the dryad. This must be her doing. He had never really spoken to one before. If the stories were true, they had little love of dwarves and much preferred the company of elves. Yet Doomwing had a dryad in his service, and unless Harald missed his guess, her tree had nearly doubled in size!


    "I promised you that your people would be able to eat their fill," Corundum said. The doppelganger was beside him. Doomwing himself had headed east to examine the other villages and to deal with a few small matters.


    "Aye," Harald said. "You did. But what price shall we have to pay for this?"


    "You speak as if you and these people are not both sworn to me," Corundum replied. "I know well the troubles of the dwarves in this matter. It has been like that since the First Age. But you need never fear that your people will be exploited or overcharged or forgotten. Man or dwarf, all that matters is that you are sworn to me."


    Harald nodded slowly. "When we go down there," he murmured. "Can I visit the fields?"


    "By all means. All I ask is that you and your dwarves help these people as they will help you. They are skilled farmers, and there are those amongst them who can hunt or craft, but none can match the skills of your people. They need better houses, better facilities, and better roads."


    "We will do these things for them," Harald said. "If they share the fruits of their own labours with us."


    "And they will." Corundum gazed over the fields of produce. "Dragons were made so that they could live alone on whatever they could seize with their teeth and claws and flame. But dwarves and men are not dragons. You are stronger together than you are apart. The weakness of one may be the strength of the other, and so prosperity is most easily achieved when all strive together." The doppelganger''s lips curled. "And even dragons, those who the First Gods made with the strength to stand alone, still seek company from time to time."


    Harald was tempted to go straight to the fields, and he knew his fellow dwarves felt much the same. In the same way that a typical human would be drawn to the shimmering gemstones and metals that dwarves pulled up from the earth that they had never laid eyes on before, so too were dwarves drawn to the fields that they themselves could never grow. But first, Harald had to meet the princess. They had not really spoken before, and if she would be accompanying them to the tournament, it would be rude not to seek her out first.


    He had expected typical human nobility. That was not what he got.


    Instead, the princess walked forth, somehow fiercer than any of the wolves at her side, despite each of them being larger than any of the dwarves. Her hair was black, and her eyes were deep violet. By any standard she might be called beautiful, but it was her bearing that drew the eye and held it.


    The princess wore no finery. Instead, all she wore was a simple tunic and trousers, both stained with mud. More of that mud clung to her face and dripped from her hair, but not a single person would have dared to make light of it. The princess moved with almost inhuman ease, smooth and light on her feet, making not a single sound as she stalked toward them with predatory grace.


    It reminded Harald of the time he had confronted one of the great, long-toothed tigers who dwelt in the mountains. He had been a young dwarf then, out on only his second real hunt. He had stumbled upon the beast by accident, and it had stared at him, teeth stained red by the blood of a fresh kill that lay torn open on the slope before it. For a long, long moment, Harald had been afraid even to breathe, for the tiger was huge, perhaps three times the size of the lions that lived in the savannah beyond the mountains. With the tiger so close and his companions so far what an overeager, young fool he''d been to rush ahead the tiger would need only a split-second to close the gap, and he knew as well as any dwarf what its teeth would do to even sturdy dwarven armour.


    But the tiger had simply stared at him and then turned away, returning to its meal. It had not seen him as a threat and had been more concerned with filling its belly. Harald had retreated and warned his fellows of the danger. They had wisely steered clear of the area, and they had all been wary that day, the tension only leaving them when they were safely within the mountain again and away from the swirling snows and looming crags that could so easily conceal a white-pelted, feline shadow with teeth like daggers and claws like knives.


    The princess reminded him of that tiger as she prowled toward him and his fellows. There was no hostility in her gaze, no outward sign of aggression, yet every instinct he had honed in his long life screamed at him to be careful, that if she wanted, she could fight him and all his companions and win. Her violet gaze seemed almost puzzled by his reaction, as if she could not understand why he would be wary of her.


    Did she truly not know her own strength? What sort of hellish training and terrible foes had she fought to not realise the danger she radiated? Her eyes sparkled with something perhaps amusement and a smile crossed her lips. It took him a moment to realise why it unsettled him so much. It reminded him of Doomwing, and the way the dragon would sometimes smile when he was trying to make himself seem harmless a foolish pursuit for one so mighty as he.


    "Welcome," the princess aid. "King Harald. It is an honour to meet you. I am Princess Antaria."Read latest chapters at novelhall.com Only


    "Your uncle announced your entry in the tournament at my behest. We both believe those troublesome individuals will attempt to assassinate you."


    "Oh." That might have bothered her once. It didn''t anymore. "So, I can just massacre them, right?"


    "Yes. Crush them so utterly that none ever think of trying again." Corundum''s eyes blazed. "Dealing with them will not only remove enemies of yours but also make your uncle''s position as ruler more secure. If nothing else, his enemies will be much more enamoured with keeping him on the throne lest you take over and start murdering them all."


    "We could just murder them all anyway, couldn''t we?" Antaria asked. "Although I suppose that is a bit bloodthirsty. But you did warn them back when you put my uncle in charge."


    "It is better to let them scheme for a while. We shall allow them to ensnare the foolish and disloyal in their treachery and then we will destroy them, tear them out root and branch. That will be easier and more efficient than running a purge every few years."


    "You two are pretty scary sometimes," Daphne drawled. "But I can see where you''re coming from. Anyway, you should probably give Antaria the things."


    "The things?" Antaria''s eyes gleamed. "Wait am I finally getting proper equipment?"


    "It would make for a poor impression if you went as you are. Harald did not care, for he is a warrior. Appearances mean little to him, only ability. But others are not so wise. You will need to impress them with more than just your abilities."


    "Please, tell me that I can get a magical sword that can cut through the clouds or something like that. What about magical armour that can absorb magic to make me stronger? Or how about boots that let me fly?" Antaria paused. "Wait do those even exist?"


    "They do indeed exist." Corundum chuckled. "The first High King of the elves possessed a blade named Cloud Splitter. In his hands, it could slice apart the clouds from the ground. As for the armour, the first High King of the dwarves possessed something of that nature although it, of course, had limits as to the amount and type of magic it could absorb. As for the boots, there are charms that can be made that would allow it. However, you will not be receiving anything like that. Those who rely on overly powerful equipment tend to stagnate or even regress. They use their equipment as a crutch instead of honing their own abilities. Conversely, those with poor equipment will often find it getting in their way and may even be better off without it. What is best, especially for someone like you who is still growing in power and skill, is equipment that is not so weak that it hinders you but also not so strong that it does too much of the work for you."


    Antaria made a face. "So no magical stuff with awesome powers?"


    "No." Corundum gestured. "But consider yourself fortunate. I will craft much of it for you myself."


    "When?"


    "Right now. For equipment of this level, I am more than enough."


    Light gathered before Corundum, and Antaria had to take a step back as magic beyond her comprehension took effect. When the light cleared, several garments where there. They were simple in design, mostly tunics and trousers, but their quality was unmistakable. The cloth was a rich green trimmed here and there with gold.


    "Elerion was a farmer''s son," Corundum explained. "And so he took green and gold as his colours the colours of healthy leaves and ripe wheat. His children took colours of their own, but given how your stubbornness and occasional bouts of stupidity remind me of him, I think it fitting that you should take them for your own as well."


    "What does the cloth do?" Antaria asked. She resisted the urge to touch the clothes since her hands were covered in a thin layer of dust from her most recent training.


    "The cloth is based on the silk produced by the spider people that can be found in certain places. As such it is resistant to cutting and piercing. Unlike their silk however, it is also resistant to fire. More importantly, it is designed to channel magic. You will find that it is however strong you can make it."


    "Wait" Antaria''s eyes gleamed. "Are you telling me that if I use a basic or lesser rune of durability on those clothes, they''ll be able to handle it."


    "Precisely. I have no desire to make your victory inevitable by simply showering your clothing in powerful magic. Instead, it is your magic that will determine how strong this clothing is. Consider it further training since you should be able to keep up a basic rune of durability almost indefinitely at this point. But even without that enhancement, it will be difficult for any normal weapon to damage it or for lesser magic to pose much of a threat. However, if I see you relying on those innate properties too heavily"


    "I get it. I get it. Harsher training, another pit of monsters, all that sort of stuff."


    "Daphne," Corundum said. "Give her what we discussed."


    "Oh?" Antaria grinned. "You''re giving me something too?"


    The dryad nodded and then handed her a wooden sword. "Here."


    "Oh." Antaria blinked. "A wooden sword? That''s great. I can just enhance it and wait." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as her magical senses got a better grasp of the sword. "This isn''t a normal piece of wood, is it?"


    "No. It''s made from one of my branches," Daphne said. "And before you worry, it''s not like I hacked off a branch or anything. I can have a branch fall off whenever I want."


    "Dryad wood has special properties. That wooden sword is much like the clothes unspectacular unless you make it so. It will be able to channel and hold far more magic than any normal metal or wood before breaking, so it will be as durable and sharp as you can make it."


    "Awesome." Antaria could already picture the havoc she could wreak. Sure, it would be nice having some kind of invincible weapon, but she could understand the lesson Doomwing was trying to teach her. By giving her armour and weapons that were only as strong as she was, he was pushing her to use what she''d learned rather than rely on what she''d been given. Besides, it was better this way. If she was going to beat people, she''d rather she do it with her own strength and not borrowed power. "We''re leaving tomorrow, right?"


    "Yes."


    "Well, let''s invite the dwarves to share a meal with the villagers. We''ll be working together a lot from now on, so we might as well get to know each other now."

 Chapter 35: The Tournament Begins

    Chapter 35: The Tournament Begins


    Enarion was having a good day. In fact, he was having a very good day. Ever since taking over the kingdom after his brother''s dragon-related removal, he had done his best to undo the economic damage his brother had done while smoothing relations over with neighbouring countries. He wasn''t about to grovel or anything like that, but letting everyone know that he had no intention of pursuing his brother''s ambitions was important. A merchant king could make for a fine neighbour, a warlike king with conquest on his mind was another matter.


    Naturally, his reign had not gone unopposed. However, Doomwing''s support had provided him with the proverbial big stick required to get started. Obey me or the gigantic dragon comes back and murders everybody was a wonderfully persuasive argument. The remaining members of the royal guard had all pledged their loyalty to him, but he had made sure to add as many of his own supporters and loyalists to their ranks as possible.


    Of course, most the royal guard hadn''t really been loyal to his brother. They''d been loyal to the coin and influence he gave them. As Enarion''s reforms had come into effect and his overtures to other kingdoms had been accepted, he had made sure to pass on the monetary benefits while making it clear that the extra gold in their pockets was all because of him.


    It would be a stretch to say they loved him, but they did love gold. As long as the kingdom''s finances continued to improve and their pay continued to impress, they would obey. Eventually, though, all of the old guard would retire, and only his loyal supporters would remain. Maybe then he wouldn''t have to watch his back so much.


    Nevertheless, the upcoming tournament was an important occasion. His brother had used it to identify promising talents, so he could recruit them. Enarion planned to do much the same. However, he also had an ulterior motive. Thanks to his own spy network and some assistance from Doomwing, he had become all too aware of various plots to assassinate him and his family. Few of the conspirators had the ability to legitimately threaten him, but the tournament would give them a chance to go after his niece.


    Which was perfectly fine with him.


    If even half of what Doomwing had told him of Antaria''s progress was true, then his niece was the perfect way to deal with those would-be assassins. Let his enemies hire their finest assassins and enter them into the tournament. Such individuals were the product of a lifetime of training, with the very finest organisations committing untold resources into honing the perfect instruments of death.


    If they just so happened to die horribly in the tournament while trying to assassinate his niece, then too bad. And while they struggled to train successors, he would have the perfect chance to strike back. The fact that dealing so decisively with their enemies would garner Antaria the fame she needed was even better.


    Because if Antaria planned to recruit people, then she needed to be famous, not just as a princess but also as a warrior in her own right. The people of the kingdom had a fairly martial attitude. A king didn''t have to be the strongest, but he couldn''t be weak. A princess who could flatten anyone in her path was exactly the sort of leader that potential recruitment targets would look favourably on.


    And there were a lot of potential recruitment targets.


    Amongst the nobility, it was customary to have at least four children. The first was the heir, the second was the spare, and the third was to seek high office as a soldier, priest, mage, or administrator. As for the fourth? Well, the fourth was there in case some horrible stroke of bad luck wiped out the others.


    Enarion was personally aware of many talented fourth children. Even if they managed to rise to a high rank outside their family, there was little chance of them ever holding lands of their own. But Doomwing had a lot of land and not all that many people. He could give those people the lands they wanted, and they could use their talents to help those lands prosper. Having Antaria to rule over them in his name granted the whole thing an air of legitimacy.


    There were also commoners who were skilled in different areas whose humble origins made it hard for them to rise too high in the kingdom where bloodlines mattered and lineage was so important. A powerful warrior might be able to buck the trend it wasn''t unheard of for commoner members of the royal guard to be made into minor nobility but what of a skilled blacksmith? No matter how gifted, such a person would always be viewed as lesser than a noble, scarcely better than a labourer.


    Doomwing did not view matters in that way.


    "You are all the same to me," Doomwing had told Enarion when they had discussed the subject. "What are your petty lineages and young bloodlines to me? I am a primordial dragon. All that matters to me is power, wisdom, knowledge, courage, and cunning. I want those who can serve me well. I do not care if their parents were farmers or kings. I know better than any of you that a son of farmers may be a father to kings in time."


    Although Enarion would not have put it so bluntly, he shared Doomwing''s opinion. Some of his most useful and loyal supporters were merchants, men who had risen high not because of their ancestry but because of their cunning, wisdom, and courage. And too many of the backbiters and lickspittles who had plagued his brother''s reign and who continued to plague his were lesser sons of far greater sires. At least those greater sires were dead. He could scarcely imagine what some of them might think if they could see their present descendants.


    But why was he having a good day?


    It was because Antaria had arrived upon a flying ship, along with a newly crown dwarf king. It had been quite the spectacle, and the entire city had turned out to gaze up in awe at the flying ship. It was a splendid thing, a relic from a bygone Age that had been lovingly restored by exquisitely skilled craftsmen.


    To have a dwarf king with such a treasure under his command attend the festivities had been a feather in Enarion''s cap, especially when that same king had greeted him warmly and extended a hand in friendship. It was all carefully orchestrated, of course, for both he and Harald served Doomwing. Nevertheless, Enarion had certainly enjoyed his time speaking with Harald, and he was very much looking forward to speaking with him more when the opportunity arose. There was much their two groups could gain from each other.


    As for Antaria


    His niece had changed. Or perhaps not. He had always thought his niece to be quite free spirited under all the royal decorum she had learned. She had dreamed of being an adventurer as a child, of facing monsters and becoming a hero. She had set those dreams aside as she grew older and came to understand the full weight of her father''s actions. Instead, she had aimed at become a just and fair ruler, one who could bring an era of peace and prosperity to the kingdom.


    Her time with Doomwing had changed her or perhaps brought out who she truly was more clearly. She was no longer beholden to royal decorum. Indeed, when the flying ship had taken some time to deliver its passengers to the ground, she had simply leapt off it and landed easily on the ground.


    She no longer walked with the tightly-held dignity of a princess who had spent almost her entire life in the palace. Instead, she walked with the ease and grace of a warrior, someone utterly confident in her training and the skills she had acquired. She had looked upon the royal guard a force that had driven them to the brink of death not so long ago and had completely dismissed them as threats. It wasn''t arrogance either. The keenness of her gaze made it clear that she understood exactly what they were capable of. She just didn''t think that what they were capable of was any danger to her at all.


    Oh, yes, he was definitely looking forward to watching her fight.


    With the first of her matches taking place tomorrow, he wanted to make sure that she understood the plan. Doomwing had probably already explained it to her, but it never hurt to be sure. He found her in her chambers, speaking with the magical construct that Doomwing had sent to accompany her while his actual body waited until tomorrow to arrive.


    The dragon would immediately attract all of the attention, so he wished to give this day to Harald and his sky ship. Let the kingdom''s inhabitants see the quality of the people sworn to Doomwing. Tomorrow, as evening fell, he would make his appearance and remind all of the traitors and plotters what fate awaited them.


    "Good evening, uncle." Antaria had flopped onto her back. She held a raccoon in her arms, and the creature was sighing contentedly as she ran her fingers through his fur. Enarion might almost have dismissed the raccoon as a threat if his magical senses weren''t so keen. This was no normal raccoon. "Have you come to discuss my bouts tomorrow?"


    "Yes." Enarion smiled. "There are a few people that you need to deal with."


    She grinned. It was a toothy grin, more reminiscent of a dragon than a princess. "And by deal with?"


    "They''re going to try to assassinate you, so feel free to deal with them as you see fit preferably fatally." Enarion handed her a list. "These are their names. I wouldn''t have been able to acquire these on my own, but their efforts at concealment meant nothing in the face of Doomwing''s magic."


    "This is a long list," Antaria said. She giggled. "You''ve been picking up a lot of enemies, uncle."


    "Unfortunately, yes." He chuckled. "Which means I must be doing a good job."


    "Incidentally how is your family?" Antaria asked. "Are they in the capital?"


    It was a polite way of asking if his position was secure. Prior to their attempt to overthrow her father, he had sent his wife and children away. Had they failed, his family would have fled over the border where merchants he trusted would see to their care.


    "Unfortunately, the weather in the capital does not agree with them. However, I am sure the weather will improve after the tournament."


    Her smile this time was not merely toothy. It was all teeth. "Oh, have no fear uncle. There will be nothing but fine weather once the tournament is over. It has been such a long time since I saw my cousins, and I''m sure they''ll enjoy life in the capital once the weather has improved." She paused. "Although some of them might be useful to us if they could be convinced to mend their ways."


    Lyra was the scion of the greatest clan of assassins that the kingdom had ever known. Their deadly arts had been passed down from mother to daughter for centuries. From the day she could walk, she had been trained in all the many ways a person could be killed. Her mother had spared no expense in her training. She had received the best tutors and the finest equipment, and she had been sent out on mission after mission to hone herself into a perfect instrument of assassination.


    As the fight began, he layered himself in enhancement magic and gulped down a trio of potions to raise his powers even further. Lightning crackled to life around his spear as the charms he wore about his neck amplified his affinity for lightning magic, allowing him to surpass his natural limitations and reach a level only the kingdom''s mightiest mages could hope to attain. Rather than hurl the lightning at the princess, he wrapped it around his spear, taking its destructive power to absurd heights.


    "Are you done?" the princess asked. "Or are you going to keep enhancing yourself and your weapon." She lowered her voice. "Why can''t I have a lightning spear?" she muttered. "But that soul-cutting magic on those daggers earlier was pretty good too damn it. Why can''t my magic look like that?"


    Foley ignored the princess''s rambling in favour of taking up his stance. He began to breathe in and out slowly and evenly. This was a technique that had been passed down to him by his instructor, a former general of another kingdom who had been cast out for wiping out villages that had defied his orders to hand over their crops when his army had passed through. The general had been a bitter, old man, but he had taught this technique to Foley after Foley had promised to use it to assassinate those responsible for his downfall.


    Foley had kept his promise, and the general had died with a smile on his face.


    The technique itself was simple in concept but incredibly difficult in execution. By training his senses to the utmost, he was able to detect minute currents of magic in the area around him. He could pull on those currents and feed them into his enhancement spells, strengthening them even further and allowing him to achieve inhuman feats of strength and speed.


    How should he do this?


    There was no point in holding back. The princess had clearly prepared for the tournament. It was best to slay her in a single strike. Yes. A charge followed by a flat thrust of his spear, all of it delivered at a speed that would make dodging impossible and enhanced with so much strength and lightning that attempting to parry or block would be a death sentence.


    He called this technique the ''Killer Bolt'' for it was like a bolt of lightning that never failed to slay his opponent.


    Foley bent his knees and then surged forward as the princess reached down and picked up a rock. No. It was a piece of the arena wall that had broken off earlier when she punched the assassin.


    The princess weighed the rock in her hands and then


    The rock vanished.


    Foley stumbled to his knees as his spear slipped from his hands.


    "What?" He glanced down to find a rock-sized hole in his chest. "How?"


    The princess smiled at him. "I like rocks. You can bash people over the head with them, or you can throw them. I kind of wish that I could have brought my favourite rock, but Doomwing said it would look strange if I walked into the arena with a rock instead of a sword. Oh well. It''s like one of his friends said, there''s no problem you can''t solve with the right rock."


    As the sun began to set, the tournament came to a close for the day. Bouts would resume in the morning. The crowd was abuzz with talk of the princess who had turned what should have been an incredibly challenging tournament into something that was equal parts amazing and ludicrous. Not a single one of her opponents so far had presented anything even remotely resembling a challenge, and some of them had died in ways that were, quite frankly, comical.


    A rock?


    Foley of the Lightning Spear was a legendary mercenary who often played the part of assassin. It was an open secret that he worked for a number of nobles and merchants who made vast quantities of money through what was basically slavery. He was considered so deadly that only the kingdom''s finest warriors could even think of facing him.


    And the princess had killed him with a rock.


    She''d cut a swathe through the rest of her opponents although she had been surprisingly gentle with some of them, even allowing a young nobleman to surrender after dodging all of his attacks for a few minutes. The young man had put on a decent show, displaying powerful magic and skill with a blade, not that it had meant much against the princess. Another opponent had simply surrendered upon being called into the arena. Apparently, he''d been afraid of embarrassing himself. For her part, the princess hadn''t even used her sword, instead relying on punches, kicks, and random bits of debris to win her fights.


    However, the day had one last surprise.


    As the bells of the city''s temples rang out, sounding the hour, a dragon appeared, scales of ruby and sapphire lit in the westering sun. He was massive, so huge that his mere presence had commonfolk and nobles alike standing still in a combination of awe and terror. He was Doomwing, the dragon their king had sworn oaths of loyalty to, and he had apparently come to enjoy the ambience of the tournament.


    The great dragon circled the city twice, and despite the fear he provoked, there was hardly a person there who did not stare at his magnificence. Nobles like to clothe themselves in finery and show off their power, but what jewels or cloth could compare to the dragon''s scales, and what power could compare to the magic that momentarily lit the sky, turning it bright as day as the dragon spoke, praising the participants of the tournament and urging them to do their best in the days to come.


    At last, his words spoken, the dragon wheeled away from the city, coming to rest in the vast lake. He was like a living island, and the boats on the lake hurried to put distance between them. Some in the crowd worried that the dragon might turn his fire on them, but those wiser had no such concerns.


    Had the dragon wanted them dead, they would be.


    Doomwing glanced up. It was an hour after midnight, and an illusion had just been made. It was a small thing, but the skill of its weaving was impressive indeed. A lesser dragon could very easily have been fooled, and even a keen-eyed observer who was less familiar with such magics might have missed it.


    But he was Doomwing, and he was very familiar indeed with this kind of magic.


    A lone figure walked across the waters of the lake toward him, hidden from all eyes save his, her presence so completely concealed that her footsteps left not so much as a ripple on the surface of the water.


    Nine golden tails stirred in the breeze, and piercing green eyes met his for the first time in almost a thousand years.


    "Good evening," Hikari said. "Uncle Doomwing."


    He looked at her for a long moment. She had grown strong indeed since they had last spoken. Dreamsong was to be commended for her training. Indeed, although her power could not yet compare to Kagami''s even before her madness there was a razor sharpness to it that Kagami had never quite possessed.


    "It has been some time, Hikari," Doomwing replied. "And it is no longer good evening. It is good morning."


    Her lips twitched. "You used to say that to me whenever I snuck out of bed to badger you into telling me another story."


    "And do you still remember those stories?" Doomwing asked. "And the lessons they taught."


    "I remember them all," Hikari replied as she sat down on the water, her tails spread out like tongues of golden fire. "Would you tell me more if I asked?"


    "Perhaps." Doomwing peered at Hikari. The nave, indecisive girl was gone. In her place was a ruler. "Is there one you would like to hear?"


    "The story of the scholar and the general," Hikari replied. "Since it''s about two old friends meeting again."


    "Is that what we are?"


    "It''s what I''d like us to be, if you''d allow it."

 Chapter 36: The Dragon Tells A Story

    Chapter 36: The Dragon Tells A Story


    Hikari had almost forgotten how it felt to hear Doomwing tell a story. As a little girl, she had often badgered him for tales. Dreamsong had told her stories too, of course, but Doomwing had known different stories, and Hikari had wanted to hear as many as she could. More than once, she had snuck out of her chambers and made her way to where the dragon rested, which was usually in the lake or the nearby countryside.


    Never once had she worried that some misfortune might befall her. To her, Doomwing had been a force of nature, and his presence was synonymous with safety. Each time, he had feigned sleep, only opening those golden eyes of his when she was either about to try swimming across the lake or climbing up onto his snout.


    He would not chide her for sneaking out. Instead, he would ask her if she had prepared appropriately. Had she put on the right shoes? Had she brought a cloak? Had she brought some way to defend herself? She had always huffed and pouted, insisting that she would be fine. As long as he was nearby, what did she have to fear? Nevertheless, she usually ended up following his advice, if only to stop him from badgering her.


    Only later had she realised what he was trying to do. He would not always be there to protect her, but the habits he''d helped her develop would remain and they had saved her life on several occasions. But by then, she''d been much older, and he had no longer been around for her to thank.


    It was much the same for the stories he told. As a girl, she''d found them captivating. Like Dreamsong, he was so very, very old. He had seen the best and worst the world could offer, and his stories were as much about far-off places and strange people as they were about familiar problems that were common across many groups throughout the Ages.


    Yet there had been lessons in those stories too, and she had not understood all of them as a child. But he had known as he always seemed to that her inquisitive mind would never forget those stories, that she would hold them dear to her heart and look to them for comfort when the world grew cold and hope dimmed. Only then would she understand those other lessons, only then would she realise the wisdom a woman grown might gain from fanciful tales spun to amuse a little girl.


    And as with his other advice, by the time she realised the value of what she''d been taught, he was no longer there for her to thank.


    But he was here now, and warmth filled her heart as the familiar words of the story left his lips. She knew the story perfectly, for she had relived the memory of it countless times. She was older now, and she could see the great weariness within him that her younger self had always missed, the inescapable weight of Seven Ages that could wear down the strength of even the broadest shoulders.


    But she saw the strength in him too, not the strength her younger self had envied the claws and teeth that could rend mountains, the flame that could burn the world, and the wings that could span the sky. No. She saw the true strength that dwelt within him, the strength that had let him weather all the long and broken years of the world, all the seasons of grief and loss that rolled one into the other until only an endless winter remained, so cold it could quench even a dragon''s fire.


    But not Doomwing''s fire.


    The fire within him would burn until the end of the world itself. It would waver at times. It would falter. He was not a god, no matter how powerful or wise he had become. But his fire would endure, a flame fed by the sacrifice of Seven Ages, a flame worthy of the greatest dragons of the First Age, those long-dead titans who had been mighty when even Doomwing himself had been small.


    Against all the suffering and sorrows of the world, against all the storms of fate and chance, against the gathering shadows and the rising waters, still that flame would burn, a light in the darkness, a lonely voice challenging the world to do its worst, a mountain splendid and unyielding, a sapling grown into a tree that bent but never broke, rising up and up until at last it bridged the heavens and the earth.


    When Doomwing finally finished the tale, Hikari closed her eyes and savoured the last of his words.


    "When I was a girl, I thought the story was simply about two friends who were happy to see each other again after a long time."


    "And what do you think now?" Doomwing asked.


    "That there is more to the story." Hikari''s mind drifted to other nights like this, to hours spent on the shore with a campfire burning, her parents on either side of her, and her friends arguing good naturedly about matters great and small. "The scholar and general were close friends, yet they disagreed on so many things."


    "The scholar had no great love for war and wished for a world where it did not exist. The general felt most alive on the battlefield and longed for one last war to give him the death he desired a death of glory and honourable sacrifice before sickness and old age could rob him of his strength."


    "And still they were good friends." Hikari smiled faintly. "I used to think that friends would always agree, but the older I got, the more I realised that wasn''t true. A true friend need not agree with you on every matter. Indeed, I would like to believe that a true friend would be willing to tell me when they thought I was wrong and to offer wise counsel."


    "And yet there are matters in which right and wrong are not so easy to define," Doomwing replied. His gaze weighed heavily upon her, and she felt almost like a little girl again, for what was the wisdom of a thousand years to someone who measured their life in Ages? "Matters of fact can often be settled easily, but matters of the heart, of conscience and philosophy, are rarely so simple." He stared across the water to the city. "I once asked your father what he would do if he came across a group of people who wished to cross the ocean in a ship that was no longer seaworthy. He said that he would offer them advice, and if they refused to take it, then he would stop them. He would protect them from themselves."


    "You would not have done the same?" Hikari asked, already knowing the answer.


    "No. If my advice was ignored, I would have left them to their fate. They were not sworn to me, nor were they my friends or allies. Whatever care I might have owed them was given when I offered my advice. If they wish to be fools and ignore it, then let their fate serve as a lesson to others. Ignorance, I have found, can be cured with knowledge, but no amount of wisdom can ever fix stupidity."


    Hikari''s lips curled. It was such an utterly draconic way to view things. And yet, she could understand his point of view. How many times must he have offered aid and advice only to be ignored by those who later beseeched him for help? He was not heartless, but he was no font of mercy and compassion. Even he could only do so much, so why not save his strength for those who actually heeded his advice and had the wisdom to do better in the future?


    "My father was always so kind-hearted," Hikari said. "My mother loved that about him that he could be so strong and yet so gentle. Yet she also thought him hopelessly nave." Her gaze grew sombre. "If he had been a little more hard-hearted, then perhaps the strife that followed his death could have been averted."


    "And yet, if he had been more hard-hearted, he would never have sought me out or given your mother a chance."


    "It is possible to be friends despite seeing the world in very different ways," Hikari said. "That is one of the lessons of the story. Despite their different views, the scholar and the general still trusted and respected each other. They were friends not despite their differences, but"


    "Because of them." Doomwing shifted, a mountain of red and blue scales reminiscent of an island at rest in the water. "Let me tell you another story then."Follow current novels at novelhall.com)


    "Is it one that I''ve heard before?"


    "No. It is the story of a tiger-man who became a monk."


    "A tiger-man?" Like kitsune, tiger-people were considered beast-people. However, unlike kitsune, tiger-people were far less able to blend in with humans. They had tiger heads and clawed hands and feet, and their bodies were covered in fur. They were often tall and powerfully built, and they had long held a reputation as fierce and uncompromising warriors.


    "Long ago, in the Fifth Age, when the lands of the beast-people were at their mightiest, there were many warring kingdoms. Amongst them was a kingdom ruled by tiger-people. They were great warriors, and they looked upon the flourishing fields, bustling marketplaces, and rich mines of their neighbours and were filled with envy. Why should they, the greatest warriors in the land, not seize these things for themselves? To them, a person only deserved to have what they could seize and hold with their own hands. If their neighbours could not defend what was theirs, then they did not deserve to have it in the first place."


    Doomwing gave a low rumble. "And so the tiger-people went to war. Their victories were swift and numerous, and their enemies fell before them like leaves falling from the trees in autumn. Revelling in their triumph, they forgot their honour. They slew those who had surrendered, cut down civilians without care, and even devoured their enemies to slake their ever-growing thirst for blood and power. But the actions of the tiger-people did not go unchallenged. Other kingdoms united against them, and a great coalition formed. Amongst them were other tiger-people from different kingdoms. They had not forgotten their honour, and they were disgusted by what their fellows had become. The alliance marched on the wicked tiger-people and crushed them in battle."


    "The rulers of the wicked tiger-people were dragged from their palaces to be judged," Doomwing said. "The king, the queen, and all the princes and princesses were brought before a council of their enemies. They were sentenced to death, and even as they were taken to the fields of judgement to be slain and then left out for the vultures and crows to pick at, they refused to repent. Instead, they roared their defiance, swearing vengeance upon their enemies and calling on their people to rise up against their foes. Only one amongst them did not roar and thunder and curse. Instead, he wept."


    "He wept?" Hikari asked. Tiger-people were famously brave, some would say to the point of stupidity. The kitsune rarely dealt with them, perhaps because of how much the kitsune favoured covert action and intrigue over brute force. "Was he a coward?"


    "No. He was no coward. From the crowd, an old crow-man stepped forth. He was so old that his feathers had turned grey, and his once keen eyes were almost blind. He was the abbot of a monastery, and he asked the prince why he wept. Was he afraid? But the prince shook his head. He was not afraid. He was ashamed. He was ashamed that when his family and his people had given in to their madness and bloodlust, he had not spoken up. He had said nothing and had done nothing to stop them."


    Hikari bit back a wince.


    "The abbot pointed out that the prince was only one person. What could he have done? He was only the fifth prince. He would have been throw in prison, exiled, or killed for disobeying his father, and his people would have viewed him as a traitor. The prince replied that at least he would have kept his honour."


    "What became of him?" Hikari asked. The worst cut close to home.


    "Is that tree still around?" Hikari asked quietly.


    "It survived the Fifth Catastrophe, but I have only been back to it once, and that was during the Sixth Age. There was a village there, built around the tree, and the flowers were all gone. But the villagers were smiling and happy, and the tree was ringed with charms. They believed it to be holy, for many who had fallen upon hard times had found safe haven and good fortune after coming to the village and praying beneath its boughs."


    "Did he become a guardian spirit?" It was possible that some fragment of the monk''s spirit remained.


    "No. But there was a blessing upon the land. It was not there when I buried him, but it was there when I returned."


    Hikari bowed her head. "Thank you for telling me about Brother Tiger."


    "He loved to tell stories," Doomwing said. "He believed it made it easier for people to learn. Do you know why I told you?"


    Hikari could think of several reasons. "I can see the parallels."


    "You could not have stopped your mother. You were too young and too weak. She would have enslaved you like all the others. But you did not join us either."


    "I did not." Hikari''s fists clenched. "I wish I had been able to."


    "She was your mother," Doomwing replied. "And your decision is one I can understand, even if it is not the one I would have made. Ask Dreamsong about it. Tell her that I permit you to know."


    "Do you hate me?" Hikari asked. Even now, she did not fear Doomwing. Was that foolish? Perhaps. But there was a part of her that would always remember the security his presence provided, the absolute trust a silly, little girl had in a dragon who could have crushed her with less than a thought but who had never once harmed her.


    "No." Doomwing stared at her. "Looking at you now, I understand the words the abbot spoke. Nothing I could ever say or do to you would ever cut more deeply than the regret you feel. What need have I to punish you when you are doing that yourself? Tell me, did Dreamsong speak truly of what you intend for the kitsune?"


    She nodded fiercely. "I mean to bring them back into the world, but I have devoted everything I have to making them better. We are not the kitsune of the past. We come seeking friendship and cooperation. I mean to carry on my father''s dream peace and prosperity. We would stand with others as equals, not rule over them as conquerors."


    He stared at her and into her, and she knew she was being weighed and judged. "I am no monk. Mine is not a heart filled with mercy. Yet Brother Tiger was one of the finest friends I ever had, and it was mercy that allowed me to meet him. The abbot gave him another chance, and his faith was repaid in the end. I will give you and Dreamsong another chance." Doomwing bared his teeth. "But there will not be a third. I am a dragon, not an old, meddlesome crow-man."


    Hikari felt some of the weight she had carried for so long slip off her shoulders. "Thank you."


    "There is something I wish to give you. I would have given it to you long ago, but I was in no condition to give it, and you were not here to receive it."


    The space beside Hikari shimmered, and something appeared. Her eyes widened, and she reached out, scarcely able to believe what she saw. It was a banner of green and gold, and upon it were a crossed sword and ploughshare.


    "This is"


    "The King''s Banner the banner of High King Elerion." Doomwing''s voice grew wistful. "You never met her, but his mother was a skilled seamstress. When he was first crowned king, he asked her to make it for him, and it was carried into every battle he fought thereafter."


    "Uncle Valerius carried it," Hikari whispered. "Father asked him to retire, but he insisted, saying he would carry it until he was no longer able."


    "Yes. He was one of your father''s oldest friends and a cobbler''s son. Before your father became king, Valerius would often accompany him on his adventures. When your father became king, he asked Valerius to carry it because there was no one he trusted more to ride at his side."


    "I thought it lost," Hikari murmured. "I was there at the end of the battle. I could not bring myself to approach you or Uncle Marcus, but I saw my father, and the banner was not with him."


    "Valerius was amongst the last of your father''s men to fall. By then your father was blinded, and his sword and armour were already broken. Valerius held the banner high until he too was felled, and when he fell, it was trampled into the muck and blood by the enemy. Your father fought to reach the last place he had heard Valerius''s voice, hoping against all hope that his old friend was merely wounded and not dead. But never again would he hear Valerius''s voice, and it was there that he fought, at the side of his dead friend and his trampled banner, until he met his own death."


    Tears prickled at the corners of Hikari''s eyes. She should have fought at her father''s side. She would likely have died, but still, would that have been such a bad death? But she had stood by and done nothing. Leading the kitsune properly was the only atonement she could make.


    "I was in no state to retrieve it afterward, and neither was Marcus. Later, it became difficult to find because the whole battlefield became a scar upon the world, one that has yet to fade. Yet Marcus eventually retrieved it. It was in a wretched stated, but I was able to restore it. I had considered returning it to one of your father''s descendants, but from what little I learned in my moments of waking, none of them were worthy of it. Yet I am awake now, and you are here the last of my old friend''s children."


    "I"


    "Take it," Doomwing said. "It is yours by right, but remember this it was your father''s strength that made the kingdoms kneel, but it was his dream that inspired them to follow. You have the strength to rule the kitsune. Make sure that it is a worthy dream they follow, not a nightmare."


    Hikari took the banner and held it to her chest. She had seen it so many times before. Her father had even allowed her to hold it a few times. How valiant he had looked in his armour and upon his horse with his banner flying high beside him. He had seemed utterly invincible, as if he could face all the evils of the world and drive them off. The banner was back in her hands again, and a sense of loss swept over her. Her father was no longer there to offer his advice, comfort or praise. He was dead but his dream could still live.


    She looked at Doomwing. This was a gift and a warning, a promise and a plea. The words came to her, and it felt right to speak them. "I swear it. So many dreams were broken at the end of the Sixth Age. Never again."


    She raised the banner high, and the breeze caught it. For a moment, she was a little girl again, and anything in the world was possible. The moment passed, and yet the feeling lingered. If a farmer''s son could become a king, then who was to say they could not find a brighter future?


    Her mother had tried to seize that future, and she had been willing to bind the world to her will to do so. But her father had tried to lead the way in the hope that others would follow. Her mother had always said that Hikari was a lot like her father. Hikari had led the kitsune this far. They were good people. She knew it. She just had to give them an example to follow.


    "Doomwing," she said. "I would like to meet with your followers."


    "What did you have in mind?"


    "If my kitsune are to help the people of this world, then it''s about time they had a chance to meet them."


    "I see." Doomwing nodded. "Very well." His lips curled. "You should probably make time for Marcus too. He will no doubt sulk if you spend all of your time around me."


    She chuckled. "He accused me of favouritism many times."


    "He was right to do so. I was, by far, the most favoured of your many uncles."

 Chapter 37: The Raccoon Recruits

    Chapter 37: The Raccoon Recruits


    Filch peeked out of the shadows to make sure that no one was watching before he emerged into one of the derelict, overgrown buildings that marred the edges of the city. He wore a bandana of green and gold cloth upon his head. Antaria had given it to him, saying that if he was going to spend so much time perched on her head, then he should at least wear her colours. She also seemed to find the sight of a raccoon wearing a bandana genuinely delightful.


    He liked Antaria. She might complain about him hitching a ride on her head, her back, or her shoulders, but she never shooed him away. She was always happy to give him a cuddle or a belly rub, and she didn''t mind if he made a little nest out of pillows to sleep in. Daphne had also asked him to keep an eye on her. Antaria was strong, but she was maybe a little too brave for her own good. Even if she ran into something far too strong for her to beat, that wouldn''t stop her from trying to punch it to death. Daphne had asked him to take Antaria and run if something like that ever happened. It wasn''t as though he could shadow walk all the way back home with Antaria, but he could definitely go far enough to get them out of trouble.


    A smart raccoon knew when to fight, when to run, and when to hide. Filch was a very smart raccoon, so he''d just have to look out for the brave but not very smart human who happened to be his friend.


    Contrary to expectations, there weren''t fights on every single day. Now that the tournament was down to only the best competitors, there were only bouts every second day. This was to give fighters time to rest and prepare themselves. Nobody wanted to see a fighter lose because they were still carrying injuries from their last bout, and giving them time to prepare made the fights more exciting.


    With a bit of free time on his hands, Filch had decided to explore the city. Antaria had told him to be careful, and Doomwing had told him to keep his eyes and ears open. There was a lot a raccoon who could hide in shadows could learn, and he might even come across someone interesting who was worth recruiting.Updated from


    But Filch had found himself drawn to these abandoned buildings and the animals who lived in them. There were so many of them, from cats and dogs to squirrels, raccoons, and rats. Some had moved in from the countryside whilst others had been abandoned by their owners and had fled here to eke out a living.


    Had he been like this before meeting Daphne?


    He couldn''t really remember his early days. He knew he had once had four siblings, of whom only two still remained, and he knew his family had once lived somewhere else, away from the dryad. There hadn''t been much food there, and his strongest memory was hunger. He had been hungry all the time, and his parents had given him their food, even as they had grown thin and weak.


    Eventually, they had left that place. Filch wasn''t sure how far they travelled, but that was when they lost two of his siblings. Hunger had gotten one, and a hawk had gotten the other. He couldn''t even remember their names or perhaps they hadn''t even had names. He and his family had been different then, lesser in so many ways than they were now.


    But they had crossed the blighted lands where only weeds grew and had reached the crumbling courtyard where Daphne''s tree was. Had her magic drawn them to her? Probably. His parents had never been able to explain how they knew where to go, but they had gone all the same, drawn to the dryad by some inexplicable force, whether it be instinct, magic, or simple good luck.


    There, they had found sanctuary. The dryad had welcomed them, and Filch had never felt so safe as when she had picked him up and held him in her arms. They had been given fruits and nuts to eat and nourishing sap to drink. His parents had already been old by then, and they had died soon after. But they had died with full bellies, safe in the knowledge that at least some of their children had made it to this place of safety.


    The seasons had passed, and Filch had found his thoughts growing clearer and swifter. He was more than he had been, changed by the food he had eaten, the sap he had drunk, and the magic his young body had absorbed. The world became clear, and his mind sharpened. He knew. He learned. He understood.


    He had begun to ascend, turning from a humble raccoon into something more. That was why he was smarter, and that was why the passage of a few years hadn''t left him frail and weak like his parents. He would live longer than them much, much longer. He would live twenty or thirty years, perhaps even longer if he could ascend further.


    But with his newfound intelligence and wisdom came a stark realisation. Daphne was dying. It would not be any time soon, but with the blight growing ever stronger, it was only a matter of time before the dryad perished without the magic she needed to sustain herself. She never said anything about it. Instead, she continued to shelter all of the animals while asking the birds who visited to speak of nearby forests and groves.


    She was preparing for the day she was no longer strong enough to shelter them.


    If Daphne had been older and stronger, she could have dispelled the blight entirely and bent the currents of magic to her will. But she was young, and the soil and magic were so poor that she could not grow stronger. Filch was only a raccoon, but he knew he had to do something. But what could he do? He might be smarter and a bit stronger than a normal raccoon, but he was still far too weak to deal with the blight or the lack of magic.


    And then the dragon had come.


    Filch had been scared. All of them had been. What could even Daphne do against a dragon? And yet the dragon had not come to destroy them. He had come to make them an offer, one that Daphne had accepted.


    And they were all much better for it.


    Their new home was everything Daphne had ever wanted. There were rich fields as far as the eye could see. The soil was so good and the magic so plentiful that Daphne had grown at an astounding rate. She had even started to produce relay trees, which were supposed to help her project her influence further. They were extensions of herself and would be able to do many of the same things, like making special fruit, nuts, and sap. She would even be able to project her humanoid form from them too, which would let her travel around a bit more.


    Filch was happy for her, and he would be lying if he said he wasn''t happy there would be more space too. None of the animals wanted to live in a normal tree after living in Daphne''s tree for so long. The relay trees were the next best thing, and some of the animals had already begun to relocate, especially those with families who wanted extra space.


    "You can speak," Filch said. "How?"


    "When I was thrown out, I spent time around the places where adventurers would gather, hoping to find my master. I survived by eating the scraps that were tossed out. I don''t know why, but someone threw out flesh from a monster. I ate it, and I was different."


    "Ah. You began to ascend. But I can feel how much magic you have. You never went any further." Filch could defeat her if need be, but he was curious now. "Did you learn what happened to your master?"


    "I overheard people talking about it. They mentioned his name and said that he and a number of other adventurers perished while trying to drive off a hydra." Patches frowned. "But how could that be? I remember that my master was strong. If there were others like him, how could they lose?"


    "Do you know what a hydra is?" Filch asked.


    She shook her head. "No."


    He winced. "A large reptile, usually bigger than a house, with many heads. It can heal from almost any injury instantly. It can also spit acid, has deadly venom, and its blood is so corrosive that being splashed can kill you within moments."


    Antaria had encountered one while clearing out monsters. She had killed it by throwing boulders at it until it was completely crushed. Doomwing had congratulated her on not being stupid enough to try punching it since that would only have doused her in its toxic blood. He had also mentioned that her ancestor had made that mistake, and he had let him scream himself hoarse for half a minute before healing him to make sure that he never made that mistake again. Honestly, Filch had heard about how incredible Elerion was, but who thought punching a hydra was a good idea?


    "Oh." Patches sagged. "I can see how he might have lost then." She glanced at the animals behind him. "Where are you taking them?"


    "Why do you want to know?" Filch had not noticed her at all while watching the other animals. She must either have come from far away or have hidden herself expertly.


    "I have kittens and a mate," Patches said. "My mate he is not well. I have been tending to him as best I can, but I cannot care for him and the kittens for much longer. If you are taking them somewhere better, I want to take my mate and kittens and go with you."


    "Hmmm" Filch nodded slowly. "Take me to your family. I''ll see if I can do anything for your mate."


    Antaria woke up and then leapt out of bed. "What the?" She stared at the assortment of animals that were now in her room. There were raccoons, squirrels, a few dogs, some rats, and even a family of cats! What was going on? "Filch!" she shouted. "I know you did this. Explain!"


    The raccoon emerged from her shadow and scrambled up onto her head. As usual, he had a fruit to munch on. "They''re the new recruits."


    Antaria plucked him off her head. "Recruits? Since when were you recruiting? I thought you were just snooping around."


    "I''ve done plenty of snooping around," Filch said. "But I''ve also been recruiting." He puffed out his chest proudly. "These are the best of the bunch. Daphne will love them, and they''ll fit right in."


    Antaria found her gaze softening. Daphne was very fond of animals, and with those new trees of hers growing, she wanted more animals to put in them. "And you''re sure they''ll fit in? Daphne would be sad if they came along but didn''t like her."


    "They''ll be fine." Filch nodded. "I''ve talked to all of them myself." He lowered his voice. "I''ve got a good feeling about some of them too. I bet they''ll get some really interesting abilities from the Pool of Ascension if we throw them in."


    "Really?" Antaria couldn''t help but grin. It had taken a bit of getting used to, but once she''d seen that none of the animals were actually being harmed, the whole thing had been quite fun. "Doomwing will be happy about that but only if he''s the one who gets the animals with good abilities." The dragon had been quite put out that the animals he''d thrown into the pool hadn''t gotten abilities as good as the ones Daphne and Antaria had thrown in.


    "Anyway, I thought I''d bring them here. The tournament will be over soon, and I didn''t want to risk any of them getting attacked or worse before we leave." Filch made a face. "It''s dangerous out there, especially if you''re weak."


    "Okay. They can stay, but you need to introduce me to them." Her gaze locked onto the family of cats with the adorable kittens. "Start with the cats."

 Chapter 38: The Princess And The Tiger

    Chapter 38: The Princess And The Tiger


    "Be wary of your next opponent."


    Antaria paused on her way to the arena and looked back at Doomwing''s construct. "Oh?"


    "The report that your uncle compiled underestimates him." The construct''s eyes narrowed. "The tiger-man has never used his full strength where others can see it. However, he cannot hide from these eyes of mine. The power I see within him is beyond what he has shown so far."


    "I''ll keep that in mind." The princess grinned. "He''s one of the borderline ones, right?"


    She was referring to whether or not they should recruit him. Based on what her uncle had learned of the tiger-man, he might make a good recruit. However, he had also shown a reluctance to follow authority, and the report had spoken of a simmering anger that was well hidden beneath a veneer of civility.


    "Yes."


    "What do you think?" Antaria asked. Even if Doomwing had only laid eyes on him recently, she had no doubt that his judgement would be ruthless but accurate. "Should I recruit him?"


    The construct bared its teeth. "You have progressed far enough in your training that you need not seek my counsel for every small decision. If you wish to rule in my name, then you will need to be able to make decisions on your own. Face him and take his measure in battle. Whether he is suitable to join us or not, he is a tiger-man. Battle will show him for who he truly is."


    "Have you known a lot of tiger-men?" Antaria asked. Doomwing''s past was mysterious despite the sheer length of it. Yet every now and then, he would reveal parts of it to her. She treasured each piece of information, knowing that he would not have said anything at all unless he thought her worthy of knowing.


    "I have met many tiger-men over the years, but I would say that I have truly known only one." The construct looked past her to the end of the tunnel that led into the arena. "Tell me, what is the nature of absolute victory?"


    "Philosophy?" Antaria grinned. During her training, Doomwing had often spoken of philosophical matters. Apparently, there were styles of combat that required particular mindsets and attitudes to be fully effective. Furthermore, progressing further in power would require not only greater strength but also greater wisdom. After all, her soul was the source of her magic and power, and a soul could grow as much through enlightenment as it could through martial prowess. "That''s a good question hmm I guess I''d say when the enemy can no longer fight."


    "A very draconic answer," the construct said. "I had a friend, a tiger-man. His name was Brother Tiger, and he was a monk. When he asked me that question, I told him that absolute victory lay in the complete and utter destruction of the enemy and their ability to fight. He told me that he would have agreed with that answer in his youth, but that he had come to think differently in his old age."


    "Oh?" Antaria grinned. "You were friends with a monk?"


    "I was," the construct said. "And although we rarely agreed on philosophical matters, I found his views intriguing. When a fool disagrees with you, it is easy to dismiss their opinion. Brother Tiger was no fool. When he disagreed, I wished to know why, even if I rarely changed my mind."


    "He must have been quite a monk." Antaria could hear the crowd. The whole tunnel shook with the force of their anticipation as they clapped, stomped, and called her name. "What was his answer?"


    "True victory is not the complete and utter destruction of the enemy and their ability to fight. Instead, it is the complete and utter destruction of the enemy''s desire to fight. It is the conversion of an enemy into an ally and a friend."


    Antaria''s eyes widened. "The destruction of their desire to fight?" She smiled. "That would be nice, but it seems quite nave."


    "Oh, he acknowledged that doing so was not always possible. There are foes that must be destroyed, whether that means killing them, throwing them in prison, or merely driving them away. But there are others, those who can become more than enemies, if only we possess the desire and means to persuade them." The construct chuckled. "I will not say that I agreed. I am a primordial dragon. The foes that I have considered true enemies were not the kind that could be made into friends and allies. They were the kind that had to die. But you are not a primordial dragon, and your foes are not the same as mine."


    "So you think we should recruit him?" Antaria asked, eyes twinkling at the expression of mild aggravation on the construct''s face.


    "That is for you to decide and even if you wish to recruit him, do you really think he will agree just because you ask? He is a tiger-man. Even if you beat him, he will not necessarily agree to join us. Instead, you must give him a reason, and you must convince him in a way that even his pride and past cannot deny."


    "Well, I''ll just have to do my best then." Antaria turned. "Wish me luck."


    "Luck? Let your skills decide the outcome of battle. Still if fortune should come into play, may it favour you in its dealings."


    Antaria strode down the tunnel and then out into the arena. A wave of noise washed over her, so loud that it was an almost physical force that threatened to drive her back into the tunnel. This was the last fight of the tournament, and she had left a trail of devastation in her wake. Her uncle''s enemies were in disarray, and she had received no small number of invitations to talk from nobles who were suddenly eager to curry favour, if only so she wasn''t tempted to add them to her list of people who needed to be killed or maimed.


    Her uncle had found the whole thing hilarious, and he had taken full advantage. He was the perfect foil to her more belligerent persona. They could deal with her, the princess who regularly turned her enemies into bloody pulps, or they could deal with a king who wanted nothing more than obedience and who was even willing to share the profits of success if they would just fall into line.


    The choice was obvious.


    Her opponent was already waiting for her at the centre of the area. She had seen beast-people before. Few of them lived in the kingdom, but it wasn''t unusual for them to pass through, working as mercenaries or adventurers for a time before moving on. She had no grievances against beast-people herself, but there were many superstitions about them that made it difficult for them to live in the kingdom permanently.


    Many beast-people were wanderers, and it was often said that they wandered because they had been driven from their homes long ago for committing wicked deeds. Other stories claimed they had brought a great evil into the world although what that evil was or how they had brought it into the world were seldom mentioned. The truth of such tales, it seemed, had been lost to the mists of time. Other stories spoke of their unnatural beliefs, and their worshipping of evil powers. And, of course, their appearances did not help either.


    Although the kitsune were said to be people of great beauty, other beast-people were not so fortunate. Bull-men towered over humans, and their horns, muscular frames, and bovine features granted them an air of menace in the eyes of many. Tiger-men had the heads of tiger, complete with big, sharp teeth. They also had retractable claws upon their hands and feet, which could easily tear a man limb from limb.


    She had asked Doomwing if there was any truth to the tales, and the dragon had simply replied that such stories existed for a reason. However, the beast-people who had been responsible for the development of such tales were long dead. Only their descendants remained, and even they could no longer remember why those stories were told. He had no reason to dislike them unless they attempted to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors.


    The thought of it saddened Antaria. To be outcasts for crimes they could not even remember? There was no fairness in that. Perhaps that was why the deeds of her great ancestor often made her so uneasy. People spoke of Elerion in hushed whispers, a near-mythological figure whose blood flowed through her veins. It was his blood that allowed her family to sit upon the throne, and it had been his blood that her father had used to justify his mad schemes. After all, if their ancestor had once been High King, why shouldn''t he be the same?


    Pathetic.


    It was pathetic.


    Doomwing had spoken of Elerion, and the man was worthy of the high esteem in which people held him. However, Antaria despised the idea that she was only worth anything because of the blood they shared. No. If she was to be judged, then let her ancestry be left behind. Let it be her own deeds, her own struggles, toils, and victories that defined her!


    Her opponent was the largest tiger-man she had ever seen. He was roughly seven feet tall, and thick cords of powerful muscle rippled beneath vibrant orange fur striped with black. He wore a faded red tunic with grey trousers, and a weapon that she had been told was called a ''dao'' hung at his side. The weapon was well maintained, but it also showed signs of long and vigorous use. He paid no heed to the referee as she approached. Instead, his gaze followed her every step of the way, keen and piercing. She smiled. He was taking her measure, just as she was taking his.


    "Princess." He brought his hands together in a salute, one hand a fist and the other an open palm, and then bowed. According to Doomwing, it was an ancient sign of respect between warriors, one that originated Ages ago. "It is an honour to face you."


    She returned the gesture, much to his surprise. "Your name is Xiang, isn''t it?" He nodded. "Then I look forward to facing you."


    The referee went over the rules briefly, but neither of them paid the man much heed. They had fought enough already to know the rules by heart. As the referee moved out of the way, they both drew their weapons.


    From what Antaria had observed from his previous fights, the dao was similar to a sabre. It could cut and thrust, but it seemed to be most effective when used for chopping and slashing attacks. Given the immense speed and strength that Xiang had demonstrated throughout the tournament, facing the weapon head on seemed like a foolish idea even for her especially given her own weapon.


    The elves of the Third Age had prized precision over brute force in their fighting, and the elvish rapier style that Antaria had been learning to use was a prime example of that. The speed and range of a thrust allowed her to strike to deadly effect, often without giving the opponent a chance to truly respond. She had been surprised and inordinately pleased to discover that the wooden sword that Daphne had given her could change its shape, meaning there was no need for her to use a different weapon. Apparently, that was something most dryad-gifted weapons could do although it had taken her a while to figure out how to do it, even with Doomwing''s advice.


    According to Doomwing, Alenna Skyseeker had favoured the elvish rapier due to her style''s emphasis on mobility. Yes, blocking a blow from a much heavier weapon would be difficult, but the whole point was to avoid having to block in the first place. Speed, mobility, and anticipation should make it possible to interrupt the opponent''s strike or to evade and then counter attack.


    That style of fighting went against Antaria''s desire to simply crush her opponents, but she had found herself growing more and more appreciative of it. Was it simply her magical affinity biasing her opinions, or was it simply a matter of gaining more experience? Yes, crushing people could be fun especially when she knew they were trying to assassinate her but there was something so incredibly enjoyable about reading her opponents and the flow of battle, dodging attack after attack and then replying with pinpoint precision that left her enemies defeated with a single, precisely aimed attack.


    And what a rapier might lack in raw destructive power could easily be remedied with wind magic. Doomwing had demonstrated several such techniques that could turn even a clumsy strike into something capable of piecing or slicing through solid steel. That was another reason he wanted her to grow adept in a style that emphasised evasion and anticipation. At the highest level, humans simply weren''t durable enough to shrug off attacks from creatures like dragons, hydras, and other powerful monsters. Dodging and then exploiting the openings that would appear would be key to defeat stronger opponents in the future.


    To his credit, Xiang did not rush in immediately. One of her previous opponents had thought to overwhelm her before she could put her weapon''s greater reach to work. He''d earned himself a hole in his heart for his trouble and had died before he could truly understand what had happened not that she particularly cared. He had been another assassin, albeit not the most dangerous she had encountered. How he''d even gotten that far in the tournament was a bit of a mystery to her.


    "You''re not going to attack?" Antaria asked.


    "Not recklessly," Xiang replied. "I have seen your previous bouts. Some might call your blade flimsy, but I know better."


    "In that case, why don''t I go first?"


    She took a single step forward and then flowed into a thrust. His eyes widened momentarily, and then he retreated, moving just out of range. She followed with another thrust and then another and another, each delivered with the precision and perfect technique that only dragon-related suffering could provide. Doomwing had no need for a sword, but he had seen the finest swordmen of the elves. She would become that good or suffer horribly trying.


    So far, it had been mostly horrible suffering, but the improvement was undeniable.


    Each time, Xiang gave ground, not simply moving backward but also to the side to see if her footwork could keep up. She bit back a smile. She''d seen too many duellists make mistakes since it was all too easy to get caught up in moving backward and forward without taking lateral movement into account. Doomwing had disabused her of that notion by dodging to the side and then tackling her with his construct.


    Broken ribs and full-body bruising were wonderful motivators for improvement.


    They broke apart for a moment, and she could tell the exact moment that Xiang came to his decision. He could not continue to give ground. If all he did was retreat, then he would lose. At some point, she would hit him, and she was accurate enough to end the fight in a single blow. He had to attack.


    Of course, attacking would not be easy. Even with his height advantage and the length of his weapon, a rapier was not an easy weapon to get past. But he would have to if he wanted to win. His hands tightened on his dao, and his weight shifted onto the balls of his feet. His magic stirred in earnest, and her eyes widened.


    He had roughly the same amount of magic as her, and unlike the crude, roughly controlled magic in most of her opponents, his had been honed considerably. It wasn''t sharpened in the same way as hers. Indeed, there was a certain roughness to it that suggested he was self-taught rather than trained by someone like Doomwing. However, there was no mistaking the threat he posed.


    Her own magic shifted in response, and she readied herself. It was time to see what he was capable of.


    He lunged forward, far, far faster than he''d moved before. In the instant that she moved to strike, he sprang to the side in a movement of pure feline grace and then brought his dao down in a tremendous overhand blow. She discarded the idea of blocking immediately. Even Daphne''s sword might not be able to withstand the sheer force behind the attack.


    Instead, she jerked back, just enough to avoid the attack. The dao smashed into the ground, and the force of the blow cratered the ground and tossed her back. Yep. Dodging had definitely been a good idea. She couldn''t be sure, but she was pretty confident that Xiang had used a basic rune to enhance that blow.


    Had he been taught the rune? No. He wouldn''t be working as mercenary if he had someone capable of teaching runes backing him. He must have uncovered it himself, which spoke volumes of his talent. No wonder he was popular as a mercenary. He could probably do the work of dozens of men himself.


    And yet that single blow had revealed something to her, something that made her brows furrow.


    She decided to test her idea.


    She moved forward again, light and easy on her feet, probing with swift, sharp attacks while just barely dodging his counter attacks. Each of his blows could have ended the fight the sheer force he could generate was insane and his reactions, speed, and agility were all outstanding. In fact, he might even be more agile than her, which was saying something, considering all the training she''d gone through. But there was something off about the way he fought


    She backed away and then lowered her sword. He stared at her in puzzlement.


    "What are you doing?" he asked. "You cannot be surrendering."


    "I''m not surrendering. I just noticed that you''re really not all that good with a sword."


    His eyes widened. "What?"


    "Oh, don''t get me wrong. You''re extremely fast and agile, and you''re easily the strongest opponent I''ve faced so far. I''d be in a lot of trouble if even one of those swings of yours managed to hit me. But your technique I won''t say it''s bad, but it''s very simple so simple that I''m convinced you don''t actually favour the sword in battle."


    Xiang''s expression grew sober. "Princess, do you know why I use the sword?"


    "No."


    "I am a tiger-man. I have my claws and my teeth. But if I use them in battle, I am called a beast and looked down upon as a savage." He glanced down at the dao in his hand. "The sword is a warrior''s weapon, or so I have been told. If I wish to work, then I must follow the ways of those I work for."


    "I see." She had suspected it might be something like that. She glanced up at the royal box where her uncle and Doomwing''s construct were watching, along with a blonde woman she didn''t recognise. A flick of her wrist sent her sword flying up toward them where the construct caught it with magic. "In that case, why don''t you show me what you can really do? On my name and honour, I would prefer to face you at your best."


    Xiang stared at her for a long moment. "You are my better with a blade. You would win if we continued to fight with weapons. Barehanded, I am much more formidable."


    She grinned. "There is no point in winning if I''m not facing my opponent at their best." She nodded at the referee. "Give your weapon to the referee. He can hang onto it for you. I''m sure he''ll take good care of it." She smiled. "I don''t care if you use your claws or your teeth. You are a tiger-man, and those are the weapons of your people. Getting upset about you using them would be like getting upset at a dragon for using its flame." She took up her stance and raised her fists. "Show me what you can do."


    "Yes." The woman chuckled. "Magic comes from the soul, and it is the soul that perceives the magic of others. Do you think your soul needs eyes to see? No. Unlike her eyes which can be more easily fooled, Antaria''s magical senses are incredibly keen and far harder to fool. She also has an affinity for the wind. She can almost certainly sense the air displaced by his attacks."


    Doomwing''s construct chuckled. "And she claimed my blindfolded training was useless."


    "Your blindfolded training is an excuse for you to pelt people with low-level magic while they try to dodge."


    "Yes but it is also useful." The construct turned back to the battle. "Now watch watch as your niece proves she is worthy of the effort I have put into training her."


    Xiang could not understand it.


    How was he losing?


    He had struck so many blows at first. None had enough to end the fight, but he had been getting closer and closer. No. Ice ran through his veins. All the wounds he''d landed except for that one blow to her side all had been to her arms and legs. She hadn''t been able to dodge completely, so she had chosen to take the blows on her arms and legs while protecting her torso all so she could buy herself more time to understand his technique.


    He''d underestimated her. Somehow, despite everything, he''d underestimated her.


    He had to end this now. That punch of hers could have finished things if it had landed. He could not afford to give her any more time to understand his technique. It was the work of years the work of his lifetime and yet she had found a way to counter it. Who knew what she would be capable of if he gave her more time?


    He darted forward again, magic surging in rhythmic bursts as he accelerated far beyond his normal limits, little more than a blur to regular people as he moved back and forth, searching, probing, hoping for an opening. The thin blades of water around his claws pulsed in time with his own racing heart, their lengths shifting back and forth until he finally committed to a strike


    She moved.


    And his slash went wide.


    She moved again.


    His kick missed.


    She moved yet again.


    And his leaping strike went over her head.


    And then her fist hit him in the stomach.


    He went flying back and struck the wall of the arena with terrible force. For a moment, he passed out, but the sudden shock of tumbling off the wall and into the ground brought him back to consciousness. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the ache in his body and the blood in his mouth.


    He had been hurt before. Indeed, he had been hurt many times when he was younger and had yet to fully embrace his gifts. The world always became simpler at times like this. If he won the tournament, he could get his people the home they needed to survive. His children would not have to suffer as he had.


    He liked the princess. He genuinely respected her. But he would not let her stand in his way. He would not let anyone stand in his way. He would win. He had to.


    He roared and reached deeper into the wellspring of power within him. He could not remember the last time he had been pushed this hard, and the combination of fear, excitement, and desperation thrilled him. Was this his tiger-man blood coming to the fore? Perhaps, for his grandfather had once told him that they were the descendants of a mighty kingdom of tiger-people that had been destroyed long ago after they sought to conquer their neighbours.


    That blood burned in his veins and drove him to draw on more and more magic until it felt as though his whole body was on fire. If she had learned to anticipate his movements somehow, then he simply needed to be faster. If she could dodge his attacks, then he simply needed to make his water blades longer. And if that still wasn''t enough, then he would simply have to go further, to turn the very air around him into a storm of blades!


    "How interesting" The blonde woman chuckled as Enarion fought the urge to scream. The whole crowd was on its feet, roaring almost as loud as the tiger-man as his magic grew even stronger. The blades of water were visible now, not just around his claws, but even in the air around him, a maelstrom of liquid death that seemed impossible to dodge. "He''s improving even as the fight goes on."


    "His desperation has granted him strength, but" Doomwing''s construct was smiling smugly. "It is over. He has lost."


    "How can you say that?" Enarion asked. "How is Antaria supposed to dodge all of that?"


    "Just watch." The construct gave a rumble of amusement. "Your niece has spent all of her time since leaving this kingdom training with me. That training has allowed her to improve at an incredible rate, but training against someone like me presents certain problems too."


    "Deep down inside," the blonde woman said. "Antaria knows that she cannot beat Doomwing''s construct as she is now. Her soul senses that too."


    "My power is so far beyond hers that there is no hope of victory. Constantly facing a superior opponent can help someone grow, but it can also be limiting. There are times when the only way to improve is to face an opponent of similar strength, to be pushed to the edge and then grasp at the ever-dimming chance of victory."


    Antaria saw, but not with her eyes. All those days of being pelted by Doomwing and the animals, all those times she''d cursed the dragon and sworn vengeance against the raccoons and squirrels, they had not been in vain. Magic was everywhere and in everything. She had been forced to sense it in order to survive. Combined with her increasingly good grasp of the air around her, she had finally found a way to sense what Xiang was doing.


    She could dodge, and she could fight back.


    But he was still faster than her, and now he was attacking with not just the blades around his claws but countless more formed in the air around him.


    Before this fight, she would have lost. She was certain of that. But he had also shown her the answer to her problem.


    She had been working on enhancing her body with magic, and she was working to master all of the many ways that magic could be channelled through her body to increase her speed. Using everything she''d learned and copying what she could decipher of how he enhanced his own movements, she was certain she could match his speed.


    But even matching it would not be enough. She needed to be faster, and she knew how.


    The rune of floating.


    Why did she float when she used it? Because she was weightless. And something that was weightless could be moved very easily indeed. Moreover, she had seen how Xiang extended his claws with blades of water. Why couldn''t she do something similar and wrap her limbs in wind? She didn''t have the control to unleash cutting winds to overwhelm his water blades, not yet, but she could push herself and when combined with the rune of floating.


    Limitless freedom.


    That was the name Alenna Skyseeker had given to her style a style that was designed for aerial combat, a style that had impressed even a dragon.


    Limitless freedom.


    The ability to move unhindered.


    Xiang closed in, blades of water flashing, and Antaria smiled.


    And then she moved, her feet not quite touching the ground, truly free for the first time in her life.


    Xiang could not believe it. How could the princess dodge all of his attacks? She had gone beyond matching his speed. She had surpassed him, and she was moving in ways that should be impossible, almost as if as if she was no longer bound by gravity. He jerked back, and his gaze snapped to the ground.


    When using magic to enhance their speed, it was common for people to damage their ground due to the sheer force and weight of their footsteps. For much of their fight, that had been true for both him and the princess. And yet now, in their most recent exchange, there was only a single set of footprints.


    The wind magic he''d felt she was using it to enhance her movements. And if she had a way of making herself weightless it wouldn''t be quite the same as flight, but it would allow her to move in ways that no normal person could. Indeed, by using her wind magic on herself, she could simply push herself out of the way of his attacks despite completely lacking the leverage to do so using her limbs.


    A sense of despair swept over him. He had already used up most of his magic, but the fight was slipping further and further out of reach. He had to risk it all then and put everything he had left into a final attack in the hopes that he could win. He roared, as much to raise his own spirits as to threaten his opponent. The blades of water around him stilled and turned into countless needles that drifted in the air.


    "This will be my final attack," he rumbled. "I call it the Conquering Rain."


    The princess nodded. "I like that name. I guess it''s a contest of speed, right? Can I get past all those attacks and hit you, or will you be able to bury me beneath them."


    "Yes. That is how the fight will be decided."


    "So let me ask you a question." The princess grinned. "Which is faster? The rain, or the wind that carries it?"


    "Let us find out."


    He launched the needles and braced himself. The princess moved and then


    Darkness.


    Xiang woke up and found himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. "I lost" he murmured. He felt tears prickle at the edges of his eyes. He had lost the tournament, and with it the opportunity to save his people.


    "What were you fighting for?"


    He gasped and turned to the side to find the princess sitting on a chair beside his bed. She was holding a raccoon in her arms, and the animal was doing its best to glare him to death. "Oh, be nice, Filch. The whole point of the tournament was to fight. You can''t blame him for fighting me." She chuckled. "Sorry about, Filch. He''s a friend of mine, and he can be surprisingly protective when he''s not being obnoxious."


    "I I see." Xiang sat up. His wounds had been healed, and were the memories not so fresh, it would have been easy to think he''d imagined the entire battle. "You asked about why I was fighting? I''ll tell you. I think I think you would understand."


    And so he spoke, telling her of what had transpired. When he was done, the princess sighed.


    "I don''t think you want my pity or my sympathy. There''s not much either can do for you. But you should know that even if you won, your plan wouldn''t have worked."


    "What?" he growled.


    "My uncle is a good man, but his reign has only just begun. He has many opponents he must deal with before his rule is truly secure. Allowing tiger-people from a foreign land to purchase land and set up their own settlement that would provide his opponents with a cudgel to use against him. It would never have been allowed."


    Xiang growled. "How long must my people continue to pay for a sin that we cannot even remember? Are we cursed to wander, never knowing a proper home of our own?" His anger banked, and he sagged wearily. "I I am tired, princess. I just I want a home for my people. I like fighting, but I don''t want to have to kill for a living! I want a place where my people can be safe! I want that village by the sea back!"


    "You can never get back the home you lost," she replied gently. "But together, you and I can build your people a better one."


    "What?" he asked, not daring to hope. "What do you mean?"


    And so she told him of the lands ruled by the great dragon she served, and of how amongst those lands, were lands by the sea.


    "Swear your loyalty to me and to him, and your people will be given those lands to rule in his name."


    "Will he really accept us?" Xiang asked quietly. "We are tiger-people."


    "That doesn''t matter to him." The princess laughed. "To him, we''re all the same humans, beast-people, dwarves, dryads, or monsters. Trust me, all that matters to him is that you serve him loyally and do your best to improve both yourself and his lands. Do that, and you''ll get along just fine."


    It sounded wonderful, but years of distrust had made him wary of dreams.


    "Xiang," the princess said. "You spoke of how much your grandfather loved the sea. Tell me, how long has it been since he last saw the sea?"


    "Too long" Xiang murmured. "Far, far too long." He nodded firmly. "I will speak to the dragon, princess. And and if all you have said is true, then I will swear whatever oaths he asks of me."


    "That''s great." She stood as the sound of footsteps came from outside the door. "I am sure your wife and children wish to speak with you, so I won''t take up any more of your time." She chuckled. "By the way, Doomwing had a friend once a tiger-man. He doesn''t talk about his past much, so for him to mention him I don''t think he has anything against tiger-people."

 Chapter 39: The Dragon Goes Fishing

    Chapter 39: The Dragon Goes Fishing


    Doomwing found it amusing that the fish of the lake had chosen to gather around him. At first, they had kept their distance. He was a dragon, and they were fish. The possibilities were obvious. But he was no hatchling. He was a primordial dragon. What use were normal fish to him? He was far too large, and they were far too small.


    Only the bravest and most foolish fish had approached him. But when he had continued to ignore them, the other fish had soon joined them. Why? The fish were not particularly intelligent, but they had a crude sort of cunning. They had noticed that the fishing boats gave him a wide, wide berth, unwilling to risk rousing his ire.


    As strange it seemed, the fish were safest when they were next to him.


    That fact amused him, as did the plight of the fisherman who were torn between going after the schools of fish that clustered around him and staying as far away from him as possible. In the end, none were brave enough to approach, and so the fish were able to enjoy themselves without fear of being caught.


    He would be meeting with his subordinates later today, along with the prospective recruits. He had taken their measure using his construct, but there was something to be said about meeting them face to face. It was easy for a man or beast to contemplate betrayal when the consequences were not obvious. It was harder when those consequences were him, and he was there in the flesh.


    In the meantime, however, he found his mind drawn to those long ago days when fish such as these might have been worth his time.


    "This is a bad idea," Doomwing said. He was twenty feet long now. Alas, he had yet to fully cast aside his hatchling proportions. His wings were still too big, his tail was still not quite long enough, and he had yet to develop any of the frills, crests, horns, or cranial ridges that were common to older dragons.


    "It''ll be fine," Stormtooth replied. She was a tad larger than him, but she was very proud of her increasingly refined proportions. She looked more like a small adult dragon rather than a large hatchling. "There will be two of us, and sharks usually travel alone. We''ll have it outnumbered."


    "You''re talking about going after one of the giant sharks," Doomwing said. "Not a regular shark."


    "Well, yeah." Stormtooth nudged him with her snout and grinned. Her teeth were big and sharp and shiny. "Normal sharks don''t taste as good. We both know that. The best sharks are giant sharks. Besides, it''s not like we have to go after one of the huge ones. We can go after one of the smaller ones, you know, something about fifty feet long."


    "Fifty feet long? That''s longer than both of us put together." Doomwing flexed his wings nervously. "And giant sharks have magic too. Not to mention, it''ll probably be too big for us to carry out of the water. We''ll have to fight it underwater, and it''s a shark. They live underwater. We don''t."


    "If worse comes to worst, we can always just run away. What''s the shark going to do? Follow us into the sky?" Stormtooth sniggered. "We''ll be fine."


    "I guess" Doomwing nodded slowly. "But if it''s too strong, we should run away. We can always come back when we''re bigger."


    "Yeah, yeah. But that''s not going to happen." Stormtooth flared her wings as electricity crackled over her body. "We''re dragons. No stupid shark is going to beat us, even if it is a little bit bigger."


    They headed out over the open sea, their wings carrying them swiftly through the air until they reached a spot a few older dragons had told them about. Giant sharks were supposed to come here from time to time, drawn closer to the surface by whales, seals, and fish. It might have been easier to go after a lone whale, but whales rarely travelled alone. The last thing they needed was to find themselves fighting off a whole pod of the creatures.


    "Come on." Stormtooth peered down at the water. "I think I see one over there!"


    Without another word, she folded her wings and dove.


    "Wait!" Doomwing shouted. "Shouldn''t we check to see how big it is first?"


    But Stormtooth had already vanished beneath the waves, her streamlined form slicing easily through the water. Doomwing sighed and dove after her. Why was he friends with her again? Oh, right. She was actually really nice when she wasn''t doing something crazy.The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))


    The water was cold, but that was no problem for a dragon. His eyes had no trouble seeing either, and he took careful note of the fish and mammals that immediately moved to avoid him. He doubted any of them were looking for a fight, but it was better to be safe than sorry. A whale might not have a dragon''s teeth or claws, but some of them had fearsome horns, and their sheer size and weight meant they could do a lot of damage with a ramming attack.


    Looking around, it didn''t take him long to spot Stormtooth. The other dragon was swimming toward a large shark. The shark was perhaps forty feet in length, and Doomwing allowed himself to relax. Forty feet? That wasn''t so bad. They could handle a shark like that easily enough, and Stormtooth was right about how good giant sharks tasted. They were young dragons too, so eating the shark''s heart and other organs might even help to make them stronger.


    He used his wings, limbs, and tail to swim toward her. It was almost like flying underwater, albeit not nearly as fast. Yet just as he was about to reach her, she suddenly stopped.


    "What''s going on?" he asked. He was using magic to communicate. Stormtooth wasn''t good at magic, but even she could manage a communication spell when they were this close to each other. "Why did you stop?"


    She didn''t reply. Instead, she began to back away, wings beating furiously as something emerged from the darkness of the truly deep water below them. It was another giant shark and it was more than a hundred and fifty feet long. The shark she had been following was slower to notice the threat, and it cost the animal its life. With one massive bite, the larger of the two sharks ripped a chunk out of the smaller beast.


    The smaller shark thrashed and tried to use magic to heal itself only for the larger shark to finish it off in brutal fashion. Yet even as the massive shark swam through the cloud of blood its kill left behind, its beady eyes locked onto Stormtooth and Doomwing. The smaller shark might have sated its hunger, but even a shark of its size could benefit from consuming a pair of hatchlings.


    "Run!" Stormtooth hissed. "Go!"


    Doomwing turned and began to flee for the surface only for the water around him to thicken and harden. It was magic! The giant shark was using magic to slow them down! Desperately, he tried to use his own magic to clear the way, but the shark barely seemed to care. Instead, it closed in, tail thrashing, mouth wide open, ready to devour him whole.


    "We can''t get away," Stormtooth shouted. "We have to fight!"


    Doomwing knew she was right, and the urge to point out that he''d warned her about this exact possibility was almost overwhelming. But now was not the time. "Fine!" His mind whirled as the shark closed in. "We can''t fight it head on. It''s too big. We need to avoid its mouth, grab on, and hit it as much as we can!"


    "Okay!" Stormtooth nodded. "You''re usually right about stuff like this. Watch out. Here it comes!"


    Doomwing stopped trying to dispel the magic that was thickening the water and instead layered every speed enhancement magic he could think of on himself and Stormtooth. It was tempting to make them more durable, but he doubted that any magic he knew would allow them to survive even a single bite from the monster in front of them.


    "Dodge!" he shouted. "We have to dodge!"


    The shark closed the distance, and Doomwing flung himself to the side. The shark''s jaws snapped shut, only inches from his wings, and he turned and latched onto its side with his claws. Rather than dig into flesh, his claws skittered off the thick, armoured plates that covered the shark''s body.


    Younger giant sharks had scales, but the older and larger ones had armoured plates that made it easier for them to survive close combat against the savage creatures of the deep. He bit back a curse. If he couldn''t grab on, the shark would simply turn around and attack him again. He had to hold on!


    Finally, his claws found purchase on an oddly shaped plate as he found himself dangling off the shark almost halfway down its body. He looked up and saw Stormtooth a little closer to the shark''s head. She had managed to avoid the shark''s jaws as well although the scales on her side were broken. It must have managed to strike her with its fins or the side of its head.


    "I''m fine!" Stormtooth growled. "Let''s kill this thing!"


    There was a flash of light, and then electricity erupted from her mouth as she spewed a bolt of lightning straight into the shark''s side. That should have ended the battle and against a normal shark, it would have. But this was a giant shark, and it had magic of its own. The shark''s body gleamed, and Stormtooth''s electricity petered out.


    "What?" She snarled. "This thing has magic to defend against lightning? Why would it even have that?"


    "I doubt you''re the first opponent to try use lightning underwater," Doomwing said. "Keep trying!"


    Rising higher, the Lord of the Tides seemed to realise that the waters of the world would no longer be able to help him. Instead, he called to the clouds and the storm, to the birthright his father, a fool of a tempest dragon, had given him. Lightning flashed, rain poured down, and the wind howled. Even with Stormbringer there, the storm would not clear, and once again, the Lord of the Tides writhed in Ashheart''s grasp, close to breaking free.


    "Take us above the storm!" Doomwing had cried. "Take us above the clouds and the rain and the lightning!"


    "He is too heavy!" Ashheart boomed from within his armour. "I I cannot lift him quickly enough."


    That was when Dreamsong had returned. She had been felled earlier in the battle, and Doomwing had feared her dead. But she was there, wings tattered and barely capable of flight. She sang, and a dream became real. Wings wide enough to span the skies formed, attaching themselves to Ashheart''s volcanic armour.


    Their slow ascent became a heady climb, and Doomwing continued to claw his way up the Lord of the Tides''s body. Higher they went, above the storm, above the thunder, the clouds, and the rain, higher until the world curved below them and the air grew truly thin. Chains of dream and hope flared to life and added their strength to Ashheart''s.


    The Lord of the Tides broke them one after another, and with each broken chain, Dreamsong spat blood. She was no longer able to fly under her own power. Instead, she clung to Ashheart''s titanic armour, bleeding magic and blood into the cold air that seemed just shy of the stars.


    How many had given their lives to get them this far? Aurai and the braves elves and dwarves of the sky had all perished, as had many of their other allies. But now, at last, the Lord of the Tides was away from the waters and storms he commanded. He was no longer at full strength. This was their best perhaps only chance to slay him.


    But how?


    The great ancient runes that Doomwing knew could not be used so easily against a foe who was still struggling so mightily, nor was the Lord of the Tides undefended against such attacks. At best, they might break even, but how then should they slay him without runes or magic?


    A slow smile crossed Doomwing''s lips.


    He knew how.


    He threw all of his magic into an assault meant to break the Lord of the Tides''s defences. It just barely worked, even with help from Dreamsong and Ashheart. The others were trying to fly up to lend their own aid, but the forces of their enemy were keeping them occupied. Not even Dawnscale, the best flier amongst them, could break free of the endless swarms that had thrown their lot in with the Lord of the Tides.


    "You are out of magic and runes," the Lord of the Tides had taunted as his great body contorted, on the verge of breaking free. "Without them, how will you kill me, dragon?" All of his runes and magic had been dispelled, but he could tell that Doomwing had no others left to throw at him. In a contest of pure physical might, the Lord of the Tides would eventually win.


    Doomwing had not bothered to reply with words. Instead, he had heaved himself up at the Lord of the Tides''s head in a desperate, awkward leap. He just barely managed to grab hold, and he reached deep within himself for what was left of his flames and telekinesis.


    A needle of flame.


    He dragged in a deep, deep breath, and then unleashed a needle-thin beam of heat as bright and devastating as the sun. It struck the head of the Lord of the Tides and the scales there held.


    The Lord of the Tides had laughed. "It is hopeless, dragon! You cannot kill me! My scales were tempered in the depths of the sea! They are a gift from my mother and father! No flame can pierce them!"


    Doomwing roared, and the flames grew hotter and narrower still but still, the scales refused to give.


    "Doomwing!" Ashheart bellowed. "I cannot hold him much longer!"


    Dreamsong gave a wordless cry of distress as her remaining chains began to snap, and the ethereal wings she had gifted Ashheart''s armour began to fray.


    A needle wasn''t enough


    But what about a drill?


    Doomwing''s head threatened to split in half from the strain of trying to control his flames and telekinesis while so badly injured. He took the needle of flame and made it spin, faster and faster and faster until he could scarcely perceive the speed of each rotation.


    The scales that had held firm against every attack so far finally began to give way, glowing first white and then cracking as the needle-thin drill forced its way through.


    The Lord of the Tides screamed in true pain and disbelief, and Ashheart could barely hold him still. Dreamsong let her chains snap and instead lashed out with a frantic mental attack. The Lord of the Tides fought the intrusion, and Doomwing pressed his attack. Down the drill of fire went, down and down until at last there was no more scale or bone before it and only the vulnerable brain beneath.


    The monster''s roar turned into a keening wail, and Doomwing poured every last ounce of flame he held within his body into the end the needle and then let go.


    A star bloomed to life inside the Lord of the Tides''s skull.


    But even as he died, the Lord of the Tides would not let them go unscathed. Doomwing felt their enemy''s magical circulatory system begin to come apart a suicide attack.


    "We have to get clear!" Doomwing shouted. "We have "


    And a second, even larger, star filled the sky as the Lord of the Tides exploded.


    Doomwing''s jaw clenched at the memory. He had lost consciousness and awakened again as they fell to earth, pummelled by pieces of Ashheart''s ruined armour. He had shielded himself with his wings at the last moment, and both of them had been burned away, leaving only stumps behind. Dreamsong was in a similar state but still unconscious. He had seen Dawnscale rising quickly, angling toward them, and he had dredged up whatever telekinesis he could to shove Dreamsong at her. She would catch her.


    And then he had seen Ashheart. His friend was in an even worst state than him. His wings were both gone, just like Doomwing, but his limbs were scarcely any better. Great gashes and burns covered the rest of his body, and it seemed impossible that he could still be alive. Ashheart must have tried to shield Doomwing and Dreamsong with his armour at the last moment, and he had paid the price for it.


    The armour itself was gone, reduced to a storm of meteors plummeting back to the ground around them.


    Doomwing had forced out the very dregs of his magic, heedless of the damage he was causing to his soul and magical circulatory system both would heal in time, but not if he was dead and cast the strongest runes he could upon himself and Ashheart. He had hoped to stop their fall entirely, but all he could managed was to slow their descent slightly.


    But that had bought the others the time they needed to arrive as the Lord of the Tides''s forces either fled or were cut down as the shock of his defeat swept over them. Doomwing had allowed himself to be carried down to the ground where Dawnscale had set about healing the worst of their injuries, only stopping when he had warned her to be careful of exhausting herself. She was their best healer. She would not be able to help any of them if she collapsed.


    It had taken him some time to fully heal from his injuries even with all the help he had received but he had healed in the end, and as bittersweet as their victory had been, it was still a victory.


    Movement caught his attention, and he returned to the present, leaving his memories aside. His subordinates and the prospective recruits had been taken for a ride upon the sky ship. Now, though, the sky ship was coming to land in the waters nearby, so they could enjoy a dinner on the water and speak with Doomwing.


    He shook himself, startling the fish and sending waves rippling across the lake. Enough of memories. There was no changing the past. It was time to look to the future. Although perhaps when he had the chance, he would go hunt down a giant shark.


    He could leave half of the heart on the beach to honour the friends and allies he''d lost over the years. Sentimental, perhaps, but only a fool forgot the past and the lessons, both sweet and bitter, that it taught.

 Interlude 5: The Dawn Breaks

    Interlude 5: The Dawn Breaks


    "Where is the king?" Alessandro shouted. "Where is the king?"


    Despite the troops milling about, despite the soldiers, mages, clerics, paladins, and more who moved with desperate vigour to man the city''s walls, none could tell him the fate of the king.


    "You, there!" He shoved his way through a terrified group of militia and seized a royal knight by the arm. "Where is the king?"


    "The king is dead!" the knight cried, trying and failing to break free of his grip. "We told him to retreat. We told him that we had to leave, but he insisted on stopping to evacuate the villages along the way. We were overrun. There was nothing we could do."


    Alessandro shoved the knight against the wall. "Nothing you could do? How is it that you still live while the king is dead?" He looked around. "Where are your brother knights? Why do you alone remain? Coward!" He spat. "You abandoned the king, didn''t you?"


    "You don''t understand!" the knight wailed. "You weren''t there! I had to run! There was no point. The king the king knew what we were up against. He should have fled as we advised." He tried to break free, and Alessandro snarled and pressed a dagger to his throat. "You" The knight stared into Alessandro''s eyes. "You have to see it for yourself. Go up onto the walls, paladin. Go, you will understand why I fled when you see them."


    "Get this coward out of here," Alessandro hissed, all but throwing the knight at a pair of nearby guardsman. His gaze hardened, and he turned to the mage who had watched the entire confrontation without saying a word. "Sofia, send word to the palace. The king is lost."


    The mage grimaced. "What of the queen and the royal children?"


    "Let us see what we are up against before we decide. If the enemy can be dealt with, then it will be better for them to stay in the palace. If things are as bad as that coward said, then we may need to evacuate them to a safer location." Alessandro shook his head. "Ancestors willing, it will not come to that."


    Alessandro wasted no further time, making his way up onto the city walls. For two thousand years, Murata had stood firm against the enemy. The great orc tribes of the south had broken against its walls, as had the ravening hordes of the rat-men and their lizard-men allies. Even the great hosts of the Ever-Summer Empire could not take the city, and their emperor had died weeping, a dozen of his sons dead in failed attempts to breach the walls.


    Murata would face this new enemy and it would stand firm as it always had, and then Alessandro, the leader of the city''s legendary paladins, would turn his attention to the royal knights. Their standards must have grown lax, for their duty was, above all things, the safety of the king and his family. If the king had refused to see sense, then they were to take him and flee, regardless of his protests. If such actions later cost them their lives to the king''s wrath, then so be it. Their oaths were clear. Death before dishonour, and the royal family''s safety above all. Better an angry king than a dead one.


    As he reached the top of the walls, he realised that something was wrong. The men and women here should have been rowdy, filled with the nervous energy that only approaching battle could bring. He should have been forced to shout for calm before bellowing his orders. Instead, there was only a terrible, terrible silence.


    And looking to the west, he could not blame them.


    At first he thought it a trick of the eye, some strange shadow cast by a low-lying cloud. But it was no cloud, for no cloud ever moved so swiftly or with such horrible purpose. No. It was a verminous tide of rotting flesh and mangled bodies, a seemingly endless swarm of undead that seemed to span the horizon.


    "Ancestors" Sofia whispered, the normally calm mage''s voice now filled with fear that would have already become terror if not for her renowned composure. "This there must be millions of them."


    Alessandro swallowed thickly. Millions? There might well be tens of millions, for there seemed to be no end to the zombies as they drew closer and closer, their footsteps churning the ground and sending up plumes of dust. The earth shook as they approached, and his horror only grew as he raised a spyglass to his eye and saw the true nature of their enemy.


    Orcs, goblins, beast-people, elves, dwarves, and humans and in such numbers he could not help but wonder if all of their neighbours had been slain and turned into these abominations. He had not believed the rumours no one had but there was no denying them now. A necromancer had risen, one far beyond the lesser wakers of the dead they had encountered over the years.


    But worse than the shambling dead drawn from neighbouring lands were the nightmarish zombies that towered over them or soared through the skies above them. Zombie hydras lumbered alongside their lesser fellows, along with zombie monsters of all kinds, from giant wolves to basilisks and gorgons. A handful of zombie dragons ruled the skies while clouds of zombie drakes, zombie wyverns, and zombie birds filled the air.


    But even the zombie monsters could not compare to the unspeakable horrors that could only have been created by the maddest of minds. They were conglomerations of undead flesh, hideous abominations that combined the body parts of different creatures into a single, horrific whole. Largest of them all was a zombie dragon with the heads of a hydra protruding from its shoulders, the tails of many manticores, and the heads of dozens of gorgons attached to its body.


    "Ancestors" Alessandro forced himself to put on a brave face. If the others saw him panic, then they were lost. "Sofia," he said quietly. "Send word to the palace. Tell the queen that she and the royal children need to flee. They need to leave now before the horde can reach us, and they are to tell no one else, lest morale collapse." He paused. "Not in one group either. She should take the two youngest with her and flee east. Her brother is king there. He can take her and the youngest in."


    "And the three older children?" Sofia asked.


    "North-east, south-east, and north. We cannot afford to have the royal family in one place, not with that that horde headed this way." He lowered his voice. "If this city falls, the east will not be far behind. Those three are old enough to know what they must do if that happens. Our neighbours in those directions are friendly with us. They will take them in, if only because supporting us in our hour of need will allow them to win concessions later." Assuming they survived, but he would not risk saying that where others might here.


    "Very well." Sofia''s magic crackled to life as she sent word to the palace via communication magic. "What now?"


    "We fight," Alessandro said grimly. "And if we are lucky, we survive." He cleared his throat and then raised his voice. "Brothers and sisters, take heart. For two thousand years, Murata''s walls have stood unbroken. Do you think some shambling corpses fresh from the grave will be the ones to breach it?" There was a bit of nervous laughter at his words, and he drew his sword with a flourish. It was a relic from a bygone Age, forged by dwarves who had once soared through the clouds. He let his magic flow through it, and the holy blade lit up in response, the lines of dwarven script that ran the length of the blade gleaming with pale blue light. It had been found by the first paladin of the city, and it had been passed down for two thousand years, going from one leader of the paladins to the next. "Let these monsters come. They will die like all the others!"


    Alessandro stumbled. His ears rang, and blood coursed down his face. He would normally have healed the wound, but he no longer had the magic to do that. "Sofia!" he shouted. "Sofia, where are you?" Men in armour ran past, some called out to him whilst others stared and then fled. He paid them no mind. "Sofia, where are you?"


    The woman was at his side a moment later. She could barely stand, and she sagged wearily against him. Her fine robes were covered in soot, blood, and the mangled remains of the undead. "Alessandro, your head"


    "It matters not," he growled. "The city is lost. Get to the temple. There is a passageway behind the main altar. It will take you out of the city and into the foothills behind us. With any luck, the undead will be too busy killing the rest of us to go after you." He pressed a potion into her hand. It was the last he had. "Take it. It will heal enough of your injuries to let you move freely."


    Her eyes widened and she tugged on his arm. "Come with me."


    He shook his head. "No. Someone has to continue to lead, and I cannot abandon our people." He bit back a wince as pain from dozens of wounds cut through his exhaustion. "The walls are lost and the gates broken, but we can still make our stand in the streets. If we can hold on then perhaps"


    "Perhaps what?" she asked harshly. "What help can we expect?"


    None. That was the cruel answer.


    And the battle had started so well too. The horde had broken on the walls like a wave against the shore. Their spells, siege weaponry, and archers had slain thousands of zombies. But there had been more zombies to replace the ones that fell and more to replace those and more to replace those.


    They had run out of arrows, and their mages had exhausted their magic. And the piles of slain undead had grown so tall that their fellows had been able to climb them to reach the top of the wall to attack the defenders.


    Worse, the monstrous undead had unleashed their wrath. Volleys of acid from zombie hydras had melted chunks of the wall while zombie basilisks flung their giant bodies against the gates, heedless of the wounds they took, their petrifying gaze turning defenders to stone as they broke through one gate after another. The zombie fliers had tormented them from the skies, swooping down to seize defenders or simply landing within the city and causing chaos. The zombie dragons and the twisted abomination that seemed to command them had unleashed waves of fire that left entire districts in flames and blew great holes in the walls. Even now, long after night had fallen, the battlefield continued to be lit by periodic bursts of dragon fire, each blast signifying the deaths of dozens, perhaps hundreds of people.


    Who could help them now, and what hope did any of their neighbours have of surviving? The city was lost, and he was smart enough to know that there was no saving it or any of its inhabitants. That was why he was asking Sofia to run. Yet he was a paladin, and paladins did not flee in the face of the enemy.


    Another exchange saw the creature lose a wing and go tumbling to the ground. She stayed aloft, blasting it with magic over and over and over again. The connection it had to the currents of magic was fraying, and she pushed herself harder, willing her light to burn brighter as she tried to erase this misbegotten creature from the world.


    Her reserves were growing low, and still the creature tried to rise, to take to the air and strike her down. She hissed. She couldn''t keep this up much longer. As titanic as her reserves of magic were, they were not infinite, and she and this creature had been fighting for what felt like hours. Why couldn''t it just die? She had already tried multiple ancient runes of true death, but the creature had shrugged them off somehow. It seemed the only way to kill it was to destroy its body and then to keep on destroying it until there was nothing left and its connection to the currents of magic was completely severed.


    The creature had abandoned its draconic shape. Now, it was little more than a twisted mass of writhing undead flesh straining desperately up at the sky in a bid to reach her. Higher that twisted spire went, fighting through her unrelenting barrage, and she saw the mangled jaws of a dragon emerge from the corrupted, patchwork aggregation


    BOOM.


    An ancient rune of fire combined with an ancient rune of amplification and several other ancient runes turned the area below her into a cloud of heat so intense that even she had to retreat to feel comfortable. She breathed a sigh of relief and drew on her dwindling reserves to form ancient runes of purification, extirpation, and light. More ancient runes formed around hers, amplifying their effects, increasing their ability to penetrate the enemy''s defences, and turning them from momentary attacks into lingering changes in reality.


    Only one person in the world knew her well enough to mix their ancient runes with hers, and she allowed herself a momentary smile before unleashing the combined attack on the horror that had somehow managed to survive even the earlier fiery barrage.


    "Just die!" she snarled. "Just die already!"


    This time, her foe had the decency to comply, and she finally turned to greet Doomwing. The other dragon took note of her exhaustion, and she felt a combination of healing magic and restorative magic wash over her. Healing her own injuries was one thing, but restoring her reserves of magic was more difficult. That, however, was something Doomwing could do.


    "Thank you," she said.


    The other dragon studied the massive crater below them with a clinical eye. "That thing it was far more durable than I expected."


    "It was more durable than I expected too," she murmured before briefly explaining what had happened before his arrival.


    "Hmm" Doomwing drifted closer, and she felt his gaze sweep over her, checking for any injuries that remained unhealed, as well as any other, less obvious, forms of damage. "This vampire I hate to admit it, but he is a true genius. To create something like that there is no other way to describe him."


    "Were you able to learn anything from observing it?" Dawnscale asked, knowing that as briefly as Doomwing had seen it, his extremely powerful scrying, divination, and analytical magic could provide him with great insight.


    "Yes. I believe I understand how he was able to link it to the currents of magic that flow through this continent which we will most likely have to fix once we kill him."


    "How was it able to resist so many ancient runes?" she asked.


    "His blood doppelgangers are special. They can use ancient runes. Moreover, he has a lot of them. I would estimate thousands with the ability to make more. If he was willing to sacrifice enough of those doppelgangers, he would be able to layer his greatest creations in enough ancient runes backed by enough power to withstand attacks from even you or I." Doomwing gave a low rumble of anger. "But we were fortunate. I believe this was a trap."


    "A trap?" Dawnscale''s eyes widened. "You mean for me?"


    "Yes. You are a celestial dragon and therefore a natural counter to the undead. You had every reason to be confident that you would be able to defeat whatever foe you encountered here. If he knew that you''d be coming, he could have prepared ancient runes specifically to combat your abilities. By catching you off guard, he most likely hoped to kill you before help arrived."


    "But help did arrive," she said, smiling at him. Doomwing could be awkward at times, but he was utterly reliable when it mattered.


    "You had the situation in hand," he replied. "You would have won although it would have taken longer, and you would have exhausted almost all of your magic. He underestimated you. I doubt he will make that mistake again."


    "Hmm" Dawnscale nodded. "Yes. We''ll have to be better prepared. Who else is nearby?"


    "Ashheart should be here soon, along with Stormbringer. However, the others are dealing with undead in their own areas. This vampire seems to be quite adept at multi-tasking. Once they''ve beaten back the undead on their doorsteps, we can try to divine the vampire''s actual location. So far, he has managed to evade detection by my magic, but I have found several key locations that we should attack as soon as possible."


    "Good. The sooner we deal with this" Dawnscale trailed off. She hadn''t noticed it during the fight because she''d been so focused on keeping herself alive and killing that thing, but the magic she''d put on the city was no longer active. Had it been cancelled due to her dwindling reserves, or had her eyes widened. "Doomwing, use memory magic on me. I need to recall the fight in perfect detail."


    She could use memory magic, but Doomwing had always been better at it than her.


    "What?"


    "Please," she said. "Use memory magic on me. I need to remember the fight."


    "As you wish."


    A few moments later, she was racing through the sky toward the city.


    "No," she murmured to herself. "No, no, no, no"


    She was barely aware of Doomwing rushing to keep up with her as fast as he was, she was faster still and then she stopped. She had reached the city. Or where the city had been.


    During the fight, she had dodged one of the creature''s blasts of raw necromantic energy. It had contained enough power to seriously wound, if not outright kill her, and blocking the attack would have consumed power she hadn''t been able to spare, so she''d dodged.


    She''d dodged and the blast had struck the city instead.


    The barrier she''d put around the city had been designed to ward off the kind of undead she''d faced earlier, not a full-strength attack from a being that could kill her if she got careless.


    The city was gone. In its place was a lake of slowly dwindling necromantic energy and the shambling forms of thousands upon thousands of newly created undead.


    Wordlessly, she lashed out with her magic. A beam of light descended from the sky.

 Chapter 40: The Dragon Goes To Trade

    Chapter 40: The Dragon Goes To Trade


    Frostfang rarely travelled from the endless winter of his northern home. He had no reason to. He preferred the cold, and whatever loneliness he might once have felt was no longer an issue, not with his mate, his hatchlings, and the frost giants. He was happy in the far north, and he saw no reason to spend any time in lands he cared nothing for amidst people he did not know or wish to know.


    But Snowscale''s diminishing power had changed everything. His mate had achieved her Third Awakening long ago, but her Fourth Awakening had remained stubbornly out of reach. She was less powerful this year than last year, which meant that time had begun to take its toll on her. It would take millennia, but she would eventually wither and fade unless she could achieve her Fourth Awakening.


    Doomwing''s return was most fortuitous. No dragon alive perhaps ever knew more about the process of Awakening than him. Fortunately, the news had been mostly positive. Snowscale''s Fourth Awakening was no certainty. No dragon, not even Doomwing could guarantee success, and Doomwing was far too cautious to make promises he could not keep. However, her odds could be greatly improved through certain forms of training and the preparation of a special catalyst.


    The training that Doomwing had suggested had already begun to bear fruit. Despite how recently it had been suggested, Snowscale could already feel the once immutable well of power within her shifting. It would takes years decades, really before she made significant progress, but after so long without any change, it was welcome news.


    As for the catalyst, Doomwing had informed them that it should only be prepared just before she made her attempt at a Fourth Awakening. However, there was no reason he could not secure the ingredients now. It would be trivially easy to preserve them with magic, and at least a few might be complicated to obtain. If he waited, they could fall into the hands of those he was not on good terms with. Worse, they might be used up for other rituals or devices. Given how rare these ingredients were, it might be impossible to get more in a reasonable timeframe, and he refused to leave anything about Snowscale''s Fourth Awakening to chance.


    And so Frostfang had chosen to leave his home behind and seek out those ingredients. The thought of leaving his mate and hatchlings without his protection made him uneasy, but Doomwing had recently delivered a device that helped soothe those concerns. He called it a communication-stone. Frostfang already had ways of contacting Doomwing despite the vast distance between them, but the communication-stone would allow his mate or even his hatchlings and the frost giants to call upon the nova dragon for aid.


    The communication-stone had been delivered using Doomwing''s mirror by a most peculiar doppelganger. It was, by far, the most capable doppelganger that Frostfang had ever seen, and it had proven capable of weaving the powerful but delicate magics required to send the communication-stone through the mirror without damaging it. Clearly, Doomwing had been hard at work.


    If the worst should come to pass while he was gone, he had instructed his mate to call on Doomwing for aid. The other dragon had ways of shortening the journey, and there were few indeed who could stand against him, now that he had recovered from his injuries. His mate was strong, the frost giants were loyal, and the defences around his lair were potent. Short of another primordial dragon laying siege to his home, he was confident they would be able to hold on until help arrived.


    And Doomwing had made it clear after the Fifth Catastrophe that treachery amongst primordial dragons would not be tolerated. Those who helped fight the Catastrophes could call upon him for aid, and he would answer.


    Frostfang shuddered as he flew, his mind drifting back to the dark days after the Fifth Catastrophe. Ashheart had been wounded almost to his death, and Doomwing had been forced to seal him within a mountain and bend the currents of magic across an entire region to feed the countless runes and spells of healing he had placed upon the wounded tectonic dragon.


    Doomwing had been in a truly foul mood then. His own wounds, Ashheart''s injuries, and the devastation the Exiled Star had wrought had filled him with a simmering, barely controlled wrath that Frostfang had not seen since the end of the Third Age. The other primordial dragons had wisely turned their attention toward healing and seeing to their own domains. They had not been frightened of Doomwing they were primordial dragons, and fear did not come easily to them but they had been wary.


    Only Soulseeker had been foolish enough to violate the truce that existed amongst the primordial dragons in the wake of a Catastrophe. He was a primordial quintessence dragon the last stage of the lineage that astral dragons and spirit dragons belonged to and he had not participated in the battle against the Exiled Star.


    Like the coward he was, Soulseeker had sought refuge in the astral plane as the world shook and those braver faced the living star. He had always been like that. He had barely survived the destruction wrought by the Broken God, but the experience had twisted him. Why should he risk his life fighting against those stronger than him when he could simply hide and grow ever stronger with the passage of time?


    He had done nothing to help when Mother Tree had turned against them, and he had stood by when the Lord of the Tides and the Mad Vampire wrought havoc upon the world. Frostfang had nothing but contempt for him. It was unbecoming of a dragon never mind a primordial dragon to be so cowardly, but Doomwing had advised him to ignore him.


    "Better a coward who stays out of the way than a coward who gets in the way," Doomwing had said. "Let him hide and let him rot. While he relies on age to grow stronger, these battles temper us. If he is a blade, then he is brittle and poorly quenched. He will shatter in the first true battle he faces. We are different. We have been forged in fire and water. We will not break."


    And so Frostfang and the others had ignored him although his help would have been greatly appreciated against the Exiled Star. Doomwing had not even bothered to ask him for aid in healing Ashheart, saying that he would not trust the fate of his friend to a coward who would just as easily find a way to steal power from Ashheart as heal him.


    Regal Flame had helped in the battle against the Exiled Star, and the female dragon had done much to hold the monster at bay after Ashheart had been wounded. Her injuries had not been so severe as the tectonic dragon''s, but they had still been the type to require a few centuries to fully heal. She had proven, once again, that she was worthy of her name. She had been only a hatchling when the Broken God had slain so many of their kind, but she had been no ordinary hatchling. She was the last and only surviving child of Sovereign Flame, the oldest and greatest of dragons.


    Her domain had been adjacent to Soulseeker''s, and he had long envied it. Of course, he had lacked the strength to face her in open battle. Regal Flame was an inferno dragon, and quintessence dragons were much like muse dragons suited more for support than direct combat. It would have been like Dreamsong challenging Ashheart to a contest of physical strength.


    But Regal Flame had been wounded, and Soulseeker had spent many years planning his treachery. He and his followers had laid siege to Regal Flame''s home, driving off her defenders and threatening to slay her while using magic to cut off her attempts to call for aid. Although many of her followers fell defending her, some managed to escape and call for help. The rest of them had been too far to reach her in time, but Doomwing had a


    Although his own injuries had yet to fully heal, Doomwing had used magic to shorten the long journey to mere moments. Regal Flame had never spoken of what happened next, but his wrath must have been terrible indeed. He had already been in a foul mood and to see Regal Flame on the verge of death thanks to the treachery of a dragon who had not even bothered to help would have been more than he could bear.


    Soulseeker must have believed that Doomwing would never risk battle until he had fully recovered. He must have thought that Doomwing would take the safer option and leave Regal Flame to her fate. Fool. Such thoughts only showed how little he understood Doomwing. And as well as Soulseeker had planned for Regal Flame, he had failed to plan for Doomwing.


    By the time Frostfang had arrived, the entire area around Regal Flame''s lair had been turned into molten glass. It showed how desperately she had fought despite her injuries and being outnumbered. But what had caught his eye were the remains of the dragons scattered across the molten landscape.


    Those who had fallen in Regal Flame''s defence bore marks from teeth, claws, flame, and magic. The others, presumably Soulseeker''s followers, were little more than piles of mangled flesh, seemingly crushed and exploded at the same time, their bodies torn to shreds as if by countless tiny but impossibly sharp blades.


    Those were the effects of telekinesis on a level that only one being in the world was still capable of.


    And splayed out in a crater was Soulseeker. The primordial dragon had been torn limb from limb. His head was crushed, and his wings had been ripped off and tossed aside like a pair of broken kites. Hunched over him, jaws dripping red, eyes wild, and magic raging like a storm was Doomwing.


    "He laughed," Doomwing had rumbled as Frostfang drew near. "He called me a fool who hid behind Ashheart, and he laughed. He said if I stepped aside and let him slay Regal Flame, he would help heal Ashheart. He wanted he wanted to eat her heart and drink her blood. He believed it would help him ascend further perhaps even achieve a Fifth Awakening. Fool! It would have done nothing of the sort, and even if it could, I would never have allowed a coward who hid while his betters bled and died to achieve what no dragon ever has." His eyes narrowed, twin slits of golden flame. "Cowards I can abide, as long as they stay out of the way, but traitors? Never! I would rather die than suffer such as him to live."


    To kill a primordial dragon was no easy thing. Frostfang knew that well. But Doomwing had been right. There was a cavernous gap between a primordial dragon who had fought against each Catastrophe and one who had hidden whenever danger was at hand. Doomwing had used what was left of his magic to heal Regal Flame before collapsing, and even then, it had been necessary for Dreamsong to add her own powers to ensure the inferno dragon was out of danger.


    They had been fortunate. Soulseeker had focused his attacks on Regal Flame''s soul, and as potent as such attacks could be, both Doomwing and Dreamsong were very familiar with them since both of them had been close to Dawnscale. And Dawnscale''s attacks had been more potent than anything Soulseeker had been able to muster.


    "He also flooded several islands. Two of Tyche''s children were put in danger. She cannot easily go to their aid, which only gave me further cause to intervene." Stormbringer''s tail lashed the air. "He was more powerful than I expected."


    "A kraken from the Second Age?" Frostfang asked, hoping that the rumours he had heard were correct. The older the kraken the better, or so Doomwing had said.


    "Yes. Perhaps that was why he thought he could challenge me." Stormbringer shrugged. "He was wrong. The battle was difficult, if only because he dove deep into the sea, but I am Stormbringer. I pulled him from the depths and showed him why even the sea answers to the storm." She chuckled. "He was tasty very tasty. I sundered his body and kept the parts. What interest do you have in his eyes? You live in the far north. Surely, you could find a polar kraken easily enough."


    There were indeed polar krakens in his domain. However, the only polar kraken of similar age was not someone he could attack. That kraken had aided them mightily in the battle against the Third Catastrophe, and so Frostfang had made an oath not to attack him or his kin without provocation. As much as he wished to help Snowscale, he would not break his oath. A dragon should not make oaths lightly, but they should keep the ones they make or so he had he been taught by his parents in the long ago days of the First Age.


    "There are, but none are so old as the kraken you slew. I only need one of the eyes."


    "I see." Stormbringer and Tyche both chuckled, and Frostfang realise belatedly that she had been making a joke. "Well if you want an eye, I would be happy to trade it to you for the right price and for knowledge of what you wish to do with it."


    Telling her what he planned to do with it would undoubtedly drive up the price, but his position here left him with little room to negotiate. Besides, Stormbringer was smart enough to know that if she got to greedy, he would resent her. It was better for her to be reasonable, especially since there were many things from his domain that could not easily be obtained elsewhere.


    "My mate is planning for her Fourth Awakening. The kraken eye can be used as an ingredient for a catalyst that will aid her."


    "Hmm" Stormbringer hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose you will have Doomwing make the catalyst?" She grinned. "I know he is awake again. I see Dreamsong from time to time, and during our most recent meeting, she was moping less than usual. It did not take much effort to learn why. Still an ingredient for a catalyst to help in a Fourth Awakening is a valuable thing"


    "What do you want for it?" Frostfang asked. "If it is reasonable, I will do my best to accommodate you."


    Stormbringer stared at him for a long moment, her gaze almost serpentine. With how she normally acted, it was easy to forget how cunning she could be. Yet the greed that blazed in her eyes soon softened. "My youngest son had a hatchling recently. His mate is a frost dragon. The hatchling is an ice dragon and he is sickly."


    "Ah." Frostfang sighed. Dragons did not reproduce quickly, so to have a sickly hatchling was unfortunate indeed. "Can anything be done?" he asked. He was fortunate that his own hatchlings were healthy. If they were sickly, he would do whatever it took to see them well. "Have you consulted anyone? I would be happy to examine the hatchling if you wish."


    "I have already examined him," Stormbringer said. "As has Tyche. His mother is not very strong herself although my fool of a son is quite taken with her. It would seem that being born in my domain was unfortunate. He has not been able to absorb enough of the right kind of magic, and she is too weak to provide magic of the quantity and purity he needs."


    "His body is smaller than it should be," Tyche said. "And the flow of magic within him is sluggish and weak. His mother is much the same although her case is not quite so bad."


    "That cannot be all," Frostfang said. "I was not born amidst the ice and snow, yet I never had any problems as a hatchling." For reasons he had never understood, his parents had lived in a forest of all places.


    "Because you were able to convert different kinds of magic into the kind you needed to grow as is normal for dragons. My grandson and my son''s mate have problems doing so." Stormbringer made a face. "I have never seen the like of it a dragon unable to properly convert magic. But that seems to be the case, and I suspect at least some of the problem may have been caused when her egg was exposed to the Exiled Star during her parents'' flight from the battlefield. I imagine she passed that flaw down to my grandson."


    "Ah." Frostfang scowled. "The energies that fiend radiated were foul in the extreme. That her egg survived at all is fortunate, but to be weakened in such a manner yes, I can see how that might happen."


    "What my grandson and my son''s mate need is a place to live that is rich in magic associated with ice and cold. However, such places are highly contested by dragons of their lineage, and with their problems, they could never take and hold territory of their own. My son can help them, but he is young yet and has only recently achieved his Second Awakening." Stormbringer growled. "I had thought to send my older children with them to secure territory or to go myself, but then that kraken attacked. However, that might have been for the best" She looked at him meaningfully. "After all, your mere presence, to say nothing of your territory, would be good for them."


    Frostfang nodded. "You wish for them to live in my lands?"


    "Yes. I ask that you permit my son, his mate, and their hatchling to live in your lands. Tyche and I both believe that achieving a Second Awakening would cure both my son''s mate and their hatchling." Her smile turned crafty. "Moreover, I know you have hatchlings of your own. They are of an age with my grandson. I am sure that Doomwing has passed on techniques for them I know you would have asked I wish for you to share those with my grandson too."


    "I know Doomwing has gifted you with techniques in the past. You have had seven hatchlings over the Ages," Frostfang said.


    "Yes. But I also know that he constantly updates those techniques. The ones he gave you are undoubtedly the newest and are probably chosen to be of greatest aid to hatchlings of your lineage. As such, they will be of great use to my grandson."


    "It could take millennia for both to reach their Second Awakenings," Frostfang said.


    "I know, but my son is much taken with his mate, and my grandson is an adorable hatchling who deserves better than to wither away in lands that cannot nourish him. Do this for me, and I will give you the kraken''s eye."


    Frostfang considered the matter briefly. "They will have to serve me as they serve you while they are in my domain," he said.


    "Of course but I would ask that you treat them like family, for they are dear to me." Stormbringer''s eyes were sharp. "And know that if you treat them so, I will treat any kindred of yours the same way."


    It was an offer of sanctuary, should his hatchlings and mate ever need it. "Very well," he said. "In exchange for the kraken''s eye, I will welcome your son, his mate, and their hatchling to my lands until his mate and their hatchling both achieve their Second Awakenings. They will serve me as they serve you, and I will treat them as family, including passing on techniques to the hatchling. In return, I expect my kindred to be offered sanctuary if they should ever need it."


    "Agreed," Stormbringer said. "I will send for them at once." She smiled, pleased with the deal they had struck, as was Frostfang. "Since you are here, would you care to try your luck with the Pool of Ascension? Perhaps throw in a rat or two?"

 Chapter 41: The Dragon Speaks About Cooperation

    Chapter 41: The Dragon Speaks About Cooperation


    Corundum gazed at the people assembled before him. As one of Doomwing''s doppelgangers, these people were his responsibility. "To survive, most creatures require five things: food, water, clothing, shelter, and defence." He bared his teeth. "Dragons are mighty because of how little these things matter or how easily we can acquire them. What need has a dragon for clothes or shelter? Our scales are proof against the elements, and even the most inclement weather cannot harm us. Defence? We have our claws, our teeth, and our flame, and these also make it easy to secure whatever food and water we desire." His eyes narrowed. "But you you are weak because these things matter to you and cannot easily be acquired. How many of you can grow your own food without aid? How many of you can hunt prey? Without clothes and shelter, how long would you survive? And how would you defend yourselves without the aid of weapons that only a few of you know how to make?"


    The villagers listened intently to his words, as did the dwarves and the various monsters and ascended animals in attendance. Daphne listened too, her expression faintly amused where so many of the others were trying to conceal their displeasure or dismay.


    "But that is acceptable." Corundum''s lips curled. "Dragons are not the same as dwarves, humans, animals, or monsters. We were made by the First Gods, and they made us so that we could stand alone if needed. You were not made to do the same, so to hold your individual weakness against you would make little sense. You were made to stand with others, to build settlements, whether they be small villages or proud cities. Dragons build no villages. We build no cities. We live as we are because we have the strength to stand against the world. You do not, and so you must change the world around you to survive." He smiled toothily. "Be proud of that. It is commendable."


    The people gathered before his relaxed ever so slightly. He meant what he said. There was indeed something admirable about the struggle that other creatures went through simply to survive. A dragon could live almost anywhere with minimal effort, but a human or a dwarf? No. They had to fight and scrape and claw to make homes for themselves, and that effort that determination to survive was worthy of praise, even if they were often weak, ignorant, and short lived.


    "You were not made to stand alone, and yet it is rare for different groups to work together. Dwarves and humans often compete for the same resources, and monsters and animals are a constant threat in many parts of the world. But not here. Here, you all serve me. Here, you will all work together. Here, you will all stand together because you will be stronger together than you could ever be alone."


    He let his words linger. There was resolution on some faces and doubt on others. Good. They might be ignorant about many things, but they were wise in their own way. They knew how little words alone meant, even if they came from a dragon.


    "I am the ruler of these lands. I will not have my people live in hovels, not when they have shown a willingness to obey my orders and work hard."


    And indeed, the villagers had worked hard. They had worked tirelessly with Daphne and the monsters to plant and harvest crops, and they had attended his lessons on magic despite few of them having any real talent. Those who had shown promise had thrown themselves into their training with enthusiasm that would have seemed maniacal if he had not already trained people like Elerion and Antaria. To a villager, magic was a terrifying and mysterious force, one they had occasionally seen but had never really been taught how to use. But they knew what it meant. Magic meant power. It meant influence. It meant a brighter future. They would spare no effort in seizing it for themselves.


    "Specialisation is common practice in most societies. One man might work as a farmer whilst another works as a blacksmith. This allows both men to truly excel in their work, and by sharing and trading the fruits of their labour, both may benefit from their respective expertise. A farmer can grow enough food to feed many people while the blacksmith can make tools and weapons of much higher quality than any normal person. Each of the groups who serve me have their own specialisations. Sharing and trading your talents with each other allows you all to prosper."


    There were nods now. This was something they all understood even if they had not necessarily put it into words. After all, it was common for a hunter to trade his catch with a farmer or a craftsman. Likewise, amongst dwarves, those who worked metal frequently traded their services with those who worked stone.


    "You have made do with the materials and expertise available, but it is time for your villages to improve and better reflect the prosperity that will come under my rule. You no longer have to rely on whatever materials you can scavenge and whatever expertise you have. I am here. Daphne is here. The dwarves are here. The monsters and animals are here." He nodded at one of the dwarves. He had spoken to him earlier and explained his plans to him. "Hallbjorn, step forward and explain."


    The dwarf stepped forward. His beard had begun to grey, but he was tall for a dwarf and broad-shouldered too. His arms were thick with muscle, and the hammer slung over his shoulder with casual ease was so heavy it would have taken four or five of the villagers to lift it. "I am Hallbjorn. I work with rock and earth and stone. Your houses are decent enough, but what do you think of houses with stone walls?"


    There were murmurs from the villagers. All of their houses were made either of wood or mudbrick.


    "I am a dwarf," Hallbjorn said. "We know rock and earth and stone better than anyone. After all, we live in mountains. We can shape it with tools and with magic." He drove his hammer into the ground, and his magic flared. A wall of stone rippled upward. "See? What would take you months, even years, to accomplish, we can do in days." His expression softened. "Growing up, I had to beg my parents to buy fruit, and we could never afford much. Fresh produce? A luxury. I remember my father smiling at me and passing me his share because he wanted me to grow big and strong." His gaze turned misty as it swept past the others and to the seemingly endless fields around them. "Here, nobody cares if I pluck an apple from a tree, and every meal is the sort of food my father would have broken his back to provide." He thumped his chest with one big hand as his gaze went back to the villagers. "You and yours can manage the crops and tend the land. Let me and mine see to your houses!"


    His words were met by raucous cheers from the dwarves in attendance whilst the villagers looked equal parts grateful and bewildered. Even now, they could not quite understand what it must be like to live a life where an apple was a luxury.


    "Hallbjorn speaks truly," Corundum said. "The dwarves can craft the walls and floors of your new houses out of stone, and they can put magic upon them that will make them warm during winter and cool in summer while avoiding many of the problems associated with the use of mundane stone. There will be no damp to worry about, nor crumbling walls or damage from rain. They are dwarves. There are none who know stone better than them."


    "What of the roofs?" a canny villager asked. "Will they be stone as well?"


    Corundum chuckled. "They could make roofs out of stone, but I do not think those would be best for you. Instead, I will instruct you on the making and installations of shingles." He used an illusion to show them what he meant. Those who had been to larger towns and cities had likely seen shingles before, but the villagers had not made use of them. Instead, their roofs were made of thatch. "They might seem labour intensive, but with the tools the dwarves can provide and the abilities some of the animals possess, it will not take long to make them. And once they are made, I assume you can all manage a hammer and nails."


    There was some nervous laughter. Corundum had witnessed the villagers using hammers and nails before, and some had been left with very sore hands.


    "But I have chosen shingles for a reason. We have a dryad," Corundum said. "The shingles we make need not be made of mundane wood."


    "Indeed." Daphne stepped forward. "I am young for a dryad, but what Corundum plans is not difficult for me. Each shingle will be made out of wood that I have influenced with my powers. As such, the shingles will be far more durable and resistant to weather and other damage than regular wood. More importantly, I can weave magic into them. Rather than simply sitting atop your houses, those shingles can absorb magic from our surroundings, which you can use for various things."


    Daphne nodded. "A lot of people don''t realise that growth, life, and nature magic can be used to hasten the natural decay of things. It''s not about killing, so much as it is about accelerating what would happen naturally and converting waste into materials that can help other things grow."


    "Makes me wish we had a dryad," Hallbjorn muttered. "Because, let me tell you, no dwarf likes waste disposal duty, but it''s got to be done. Otherwise, you''ll find yourselves knee-deep in "


    "As you can see," Corundum continued. "I have already considered your housing situation in some detail. Better housing and buildings are a fitting reward for your service, and they will help improve your productivity even further. I will not be emperor over a land of beggars. For that same reason, you can expect the construction of roads and other infrastructure to hasten too."


    Doomwing had informed him of their new recruits. With more dwarves available, along with some additional human mages, they should be able to dramatically improve their infrastructure. It should not be long before all the villages were connected by good roads, and from there, they could work on connecting the villages to the dwarves and then to the lands to the west.


    "As for defence, let me be clear." Corundum''s gaze bored into them. "I do not plan on turning you into an army. Most of you are not well suited to fighting and are far more useful doing other things. However, I firmly believe that everyone should know how to defend themselves. Whether it is with magic, their fists, or a pointy stick, it is always always better if you know how to fight."


    "But we have the monsters to protect us now," one of the villagers said. "And you are here as well."


    "The monsters are not invincible, and they cannot be everywhere at once. If, by some unfortunate twist of fate, you find yourself in danger without them around, will you simply lay down and die? As for me, I will gladly defend you from threats that are beyond you, but I am not here to protect you from everything. Complete reliance on others will only lead to stagnation and weakness. Learning how to defend yourself will make you stronger, both mentally and physically, and such training may even help you achieve greater power." He had explained Ascension to them, and many of them were drawn to the idea of becoming stronger and living longer lives. Who wouldn''t be?


    "Is that why you''re not doing everything for us?" Daphne asked shrewdly. "With your power, you could easily surpass anything we could do with regards to housing."


    "That is true," Corundum admitted. "I could make you houses that kings would envy, but what would be the point? I am your ruler, which means that I am supposed to lead you not do everything for you. What happens if I am wounded or am called away for an extended period of time? If I do everything for you, you will be helpless. It is a lesson that we dragons learn from a young age. To struggle is to grow and improve. To struggle is to obtain power. What I ask of you may seem difficult at times, but I will never ask you to do the truly impossible. I want to rule over a great nation, but great nations require great people. And to become great, you will have to work together, learn new things, and strive for more. You cannot do that if I coddle you. I will show you the way, but you must have the determination to walk it."


    Silence fell over the group.


    "Think of how helpless you felt when the soldiers burned your crops, slew your neighbours, and tore down your homes," Corundum said to the villages. "Do you ever want to feel that way again?" They shook their heads. "Then learn how to fight. Perhaps you will never need to. Indeed, if all goes well, you will never have cause to take up arms. But if the need ever arises" He bared his teeth. "Wouldn''t you like to be able to kill the bastards who think they can harm you and yours?"


    The fire blazing in their eyes said it all.


    Corundum dismissed the dwarves and the villagers. They were to discuss matters further amongst themselves. He was a dragon, so no matter how closely he had observed houses in the past, there were things that he was bound to miss that somebody who actually lived in a house would not.


    "This is training for me too, isn''t it?" Daphne asked, running her fingers through the soft fur of a squirrel. "Spreading my roots over a wider area while taking on more responsibilities definitely seems like training."


    "Yes. Dryads have two powerful advantages when it comes to magic. First, they can develop truly gargantuan magical reserves. Having you spread your roots as far as possible while handling a variety of tasks will encourage your reserves to grow even more quickly. Second, multi-tasking is something that dryads do better than almost anyone else. Many humans will never be able to cast two spells at once. Some of your older sisters can use tens of thousands of spells at the same time. You may not have realised it due to your prior circumstances, but you have the potential to do the same. Having you manage multiple things at the same time will improve your multi-tasking. This may not seem important now, but as you grow more and more powerful, it will become essential. You will be able to use more runes and spells than your opponent, which will often allow you to simply overwhelm anyone who might wish to harm you. Those two things are what make dryads so deadly in magical combat enormous magical reserves and the multi-tasking to make good use of those reserves."


    "You seem quite familiar with how dryads use magic in battle."


    "Of course, Mother Tree was one of my teachers. I sparred against her many times, and I learned firsthand how important multi-tasking is. Even now, there is no dragon alive who can use as many spells and runes at the same time as I can."


    "How did you beat her?" Daphne asked quietly. "My memories of that are murky."


    "Speed," Corundum said. "It was true that I developed magic specifically to defeat her, but it would have been worthless without the speed to use it. It doesn''t matter how powerful you are and how many things you can do at once if I can strike a critical blow before you can complete your defences."


    "Ah."


    "In any case, we must begin. I want as many of the homes completed as possible. In fact, I''d like to have extra homes ready for our new recruits when they arrive."

 Chapter 42: The Tigers And The Sea

    Chapter 42: The Tigers And The Sea


    Xiang watched as his grandfather stared at the sea. The old tiger-man was still and silent.


    "Grandfather," he murmured. "Do you want me to help you reach the sea?"


    Age had bent the old tiger-man''s back, and he needed a cane to help him walk. Yet when he turned to Xiang, there was a smile upon his lips, fragile but growing stronger with each passing moment.


    "No," his grandfather murmured. "I can do it."


    And so he made his way down to where the waves lapped against the shore, his cane digging into the soft sand. As the first wave washed over his feet, his grandfather dropped to his knees. Xiang hurried to his side, worry clawing at his heart, but then his grandfather laughed.


    "It has been so long since I have seen the sea," his grandfather said, and if there were tears mixed with the laughter, Xiang was wise enough not to mention them. His grandfather scooped up a handful of wet sand and let the next wave wash it away. "It feels it feels like home," he said, and then his smile turned watery indeed. "I wish your father were here with us. Oh he would have loved this place. I know it." His grandfather struggled to rise, and Xiang helped him back up onto his feet. "This is a good place, Xiang. Our people will do well here."


    "I think so too," Xiang murmured. "It is a good place a good home."


    And it was.Follow current novels at novelhall.com)


    When they had accompanied the dragon back to his lands, they had been met with endless fields of rich produce and houses made of stone with fine shingled roofs. Xiang and the other tiger-people had marvelled at the magical pump that delivered water to each house and to the system that handled waste with none of the mess so often found in other places.


    The villagers were friendly folk, and while they had been initially been taken aback by Xiang and his people, he could tell that it was simply because they had never seen any tiger-people before. Their smiles were warm and welcoming, and when they invited all of the new arrivals to join them in a feast, there had been no hidden malice, no snide remarks, or veiled insults.


    The dragon had spoken truly. They were all equal in his eyes.


    They had stayed in the village for a few days, resting and learning more about the others who served the dragon. There were dwarves, humans, monsters, and ascended animals. All worked together at his behest, their different skills woven into a tapestry that promoted success for all.


    And his people would be a part of it.


    Their lands to the south were said to be rich in fish and the bounty of the sea, and there were jungles and mangroves nearby where all manner of resources could be obtained. In time a road might be built to their settlement, but in the meantime, it would be quickest to take a boat up the coast and then up a river to one of the villages. They could also fly. Several of the flying monsters had agreed to accompany them to the coast, and there were others down there that might be tamed or won over if they were careful.


    Xiang had never been especially fond of flight, but that was because he had never experienced it himself. Now that he had soared in the flying ship the dwarves had and through the air courtesy of Doomwing''s magic, he found himself looking forward to the opportunity to fly again. The largest of the bird monsters that had accompanied them south was big enough to carry two or three people at once, and Xiang had already spoken to him.


    The monster would set up a roost nearby for himself and his family. They would aid the tiger-people in exchange for a share of their catch. Their swift wings and keen eyes would certainly prove useful in the days ahead, and they were fierce fighters too, gifted with razor-sharp claws, fearsome beaks, and wind magic.


    The site of their settlement was a sheltered cove with the jungle to one side and mangroves to the other. White sand awaited them on the beach, and the seas nearby teemed with life. It was a good place, far better than the desolate lands Xiang had hoped to purchase with his tournament winnings.


    "Come on, grandfather," Xiang said. "We should decide what to do first."


    He helped his grandfather back to the makeshift camp they had set up. Doomwing had departed to survey the seas nearby, leaving behind a doppelganger named Brother Dragon. It was a strange name, reminiscent of the names he had seen amongst beast-people monks.


    "What do you think?" Brother Dragon asked. "Can your people make a living here?"


    His grandfather laughed. "We can do more than make a living here. We can make this our home and bring all the bounty of the sea before you." He grinned. "I am an old man now, but I remember my fishing days well. The seas here are full of fish, and this cove will protect our boats from rough seas and storms. We have not explored the mangroves yet, but such places often have crabs, shrimps, lobsters, and other such animals. As for the jungle, we shall not want for wood, and there are many other resources to be gained there too."


    "We shall have to be careful," Xiang said. "I am strong enough to drive off most foes, but there may be dangers here that I cannot face." It went unspoken that if he could not fight something off, then the others would stand little chance. He was, by far, the strongest of his people.


    "Fear not," Brother Dragon said. "I have tree-folk in my service. They have yet to arrive, but I have called for some of them. They will aid you in establishing your settlement and help protect you from threats." The doppelganger''s eyes gleamed. "As for threats beyond you or the tree-folk, I shall deal with those."


    "In what way?" Xiang asked.


    "I shall try reason first. Powerful monsters generally possess some intelligence. If they acknowledge my authority and follow my rules, I see no reason to exterminate them. But if they defy me and threaten those who serve me, then I shall crush them."


    As expected of a dragon mercy offered from a position of overwhelming strength.


    "This camp will suffice for a few nights," Brother Dragon said. "But you will need to build proper homes soon."


    "Yes," Xiang agreed. "It should not be too difficult. We have some experience building our own homes, and the tools the dwarves gave us are excellent. If we take trees from the jungle, it should not take us long."


    "You refused further help from the dwarves," Brother Dragon said. "With their magic and skills, they could have built you houses of stone."


    "Yes," Xiang said. "But this my people have wandered for so long with no place to call home. Now that we have a home, we would like to build our houses with our own hands. It is sentimental perhaps, maybe even foolish, but it is something we must do."


    Brother Dragon''s lips curled. "I knew a tiger-man once. He spoke of how fiercely independent his people were. What they built, they built with their own hands. What they claimed, they seized with their own strength. Such independence has its merits, but never forget that you serve me now. You and your people are no longer alone."


    Xiang bowed his head. "Of course." He patted his grandfather on the back. "It is only mid-morning, grandfather. I shall go with some of the other men and harvest some lumber, enough to begin building houses and boats. I trust you can supervise the making of boats?"


    His grandfather puffed out his chest proudly. "I may be old, grandson, but not so old that I have forgotten how to make a proper fishing boat. You and the others youngsters should consider yourselves lucky that I am still around to share my wisdom, else you might end up on the water upon some ramshackle raft."


    "Hah!" Xiang found himself smiling again. It had been so long since his grandfather had been so happy, and it made him happy too. "I humbly accept your wisdom, grandfather." He turned to Brother Dragon. "Can I leave the women and children here with you?"


    "No harm shall come to them while you and the others are gone," Brother Dragon assured. "But I am sure there is work they can do while you are gone."


    "Indeed." Xiang nodded. "I will find work for them to do."


    Xiang made his way over to where the women and children were. All tiger-people knew how to fight, but their days of wandering had led them to prize the safety of their women and children even more than most tiger-people. They simply could not afford to lose them, and so it had been the young men who had become mercenaries and adventurers, taking risks that could just as easily lead to profit as death.


    "Husband." His wife, Hua, had their youngest on her hip whilst his three other children played nearby.


    To his relief, none of them had been too aggrieved by his loss in the tournament. He had Antaria to thank for that. Upon meeting his children, the princess had lavished praise upon him, telling them that he was by far the strongest of her opponents and only good fortune and preparation had allowed her to triumph.


    His children had taken to the princess, perhaps because of how kindly she looked upon them. They were used to others looking upon them with fear and suspicion, but the princess had greeted them warmly and treated them like normal children. She had even answered his daughter''s many questions about her hair.


    Tiger people did not grow long hair the way humans did. Instead, their heads resembled tigers. As a result, his daughter had come to find long hair fascinating. The princess had answered her questions patiently, pointing out the advantages and disadvantages of having long hair, especially as it pertained to combat.


    His children had also been quite taken with her raccoon companion, Filch. Although the raccoon had eyed Xiang with suspicion, he had allowed the children to bribe him with food a strategy that Antaria had suggested when the children had asked how they could befriend him.


    It was deeply satisfying to see his children worrying about when they might next encounter the ornery raccoon, rather than worrying about their next meal or if they would have a roof over their heads.


    "How goes it?" Xiang asked. His wife had some talent as an alchemist and apothecary, and Brother Dragon had promised to teach her and any others who showed promise. She was also in charge of their supplies, and she had developed a keen mind for managing money.


    "We were running short of supplies, but we were given many before our departure from the village. As it is, we have enough to last us for at least a fortnight although I do not think it will be hard to acquire more food and water."


    "Yes," Xiang said. "We found a spring nearby, so fresh water should not be an issue. I plan to build our new village around it."


    "A fine idea," Hua said. "So you are taking men into the jungle to harvest lumber?"


    "Yes," Xiang replied. "While we are there, we will begin clearing land around the spring and checking for monsters and other threats. We have almost the whole day ahead of us, so we should be able to accomplish a lot before returning here come nightfall."


    "Be careful," Hua advised. "You are strong, but if the enemy proves stronger, ask Brother Dragon for aid."


    "I will," Xiang said. "And we are supposed to receive help from tree-folk soon. I do not know exactly when they arrive, but they are supposed to be quite strong."


    "Once you are sure the area is safe, send for me," Hua said. "I can take some of the women and children and collect useful plants and herbs. I have seen several already, and it never hurts to keep our supplies well stocked."


    "While we are gone, can you and the others finish making camp?" Xiang asked. "Perhaps set up a few wards and the like?"


    "Of course," Hua said. "It will be good practice, and it is time some of the children saw us make them."


    Wards came in many shapes and sizes. However, the ones used by tiger-people were large posts of specially prepared wood that were driven into the ground. They were imbued with magic and served a variety of purposes. They were most commonly used to repel pests, animals, and weaker monsters.


    Xiang could remember the wards around their old home dozens of finely carved wooden posts that ringed their village. He had little talent for such things, but Hua had some skill, and there were others amongst the women who were especially gifted in making them. One of the old women could even make healing wards that helped heal injuries although the effects were slower and weaker than taking a potion.


    Brother Dragon had expressed some interest in the wards, saying something about how they could be greatly improved with certain alchemical techniques. Xiang had not been able to understand a lot of what he''d said, but his wife had been suitably impressed and had vowed to learn all that she could from him.


    "All right then," Xiang said. "I leave the camp in your hands, wife."


    "Be safe, husband."


    Xiang went into the jungle with more than a dozen other tiger-men. They were all battle-tested although none were as strong as him. Like him, they knew how lucky they were to receive an opportunity like this, and none of them had any intention of wasting it.


    Xiang had not known a lot about harvesting lumber until he had met a human mercenary whose father had been a woodcutter. Xiang had still been young then, and the human had been close to retirement. He had taught Xiang about what to look for when harvesting lumber and how to bring a tree down safely before preparing it properly. Xiang had wondered why he was bothering to teach him, but mercenary work often involved preparing fortifications and other construction. With his strong body and talent for cutting things, Xiang was often asked to help.


    The human had eventually retired, using his money to set up a tavern in a popular town, but Xiang had never forgotten his lessons or the kindness he had shown him. The human had not needed to teach him. He could have simply ordered Xiang around, but he had taught him, and so Xiang had been sad to see him go while being happy that he had been able to retire without any serious injuries. Few mercenaries were so fortunate.


    He and the others searched the area for threats before he began to point out the trees they should take and how they should be brought down. The others lacked his experience in this area, but they knew how to follow instructions. Besides, the prospect of labouring to build their own homes had filled all of them with enthusiasm.


    Yet as the day wore on and morning gave way to afternoon, Xiang sensed a change in the air. So far, they had mostly encountered normal animals, the kind who could be easily scared away or dealt with. What was a regular tiger or leopard to a tiger-man? The few monsters they''d sighted had been smart enough to know the odds were against them and had slunk off, fading back into the jungle. Even so, he''d delegated two of his men to keep watch. They could not afford to be careless now when everything they wanted was within reach.


    Now, though, the air was different. He could not put his finger on it. The birds still chirped. The jungle was still filled with movement and sound. And yet his instincts, the ones that had served him so well in battle over the years, were telling him that a threat was approaching, one that he had to be wary of.


    "Hold!" he cried, motioning for the others to set aside their axes and saws. "To arms!"


    They went for their weapons at once and they were right to do so.


    Emerging from the towering trees and moving silently despites its sheer size was one of the tree-folk. The creature had to be at least thirty feet tall. It was vaguely humanoid, its branches and roots twisted together to form its limbs while its trunk made up its body. High above them, a face could be seen in the wood, and it paused mid-stride to look down upon them.


    "Do nothing foolish," Xiang warned his men. "The tree-folk here are not our foes." He cleared his throat and raised his voice as he shouted up to the tree-man. "Greetings. I am Xiang. My men and I serve Doomwing."


    "Hmm" The tree-man gave a low rumble, akin to a hillside giving way in the midst of a storm. "He did say that tiger-people would be coming here. You must be them." The tree-man glanced past them to the trees they had already felled, and Xiang wondered how he must feel about it. "You have a good eye for lumber."


    "You are not upset?" Xiang asked carefully.


    The tree-man chuckled. "Upset? Do you plan to cut down the whole jungle, or have you taken only what you need? Your folk are not like mine. You cannot withstand the wind and the cold and the rain. You need houses, and for that, you need wood. Be mindful of your actions and take no more than you need, and you shall not incur my wrath. Besides, those trees were not my kin, and others shall soon replace them."


    "Thank you for your understanding." Xiang bowed his head, as did his fellows. This tree-man had more magic than him and Antaria put together, and by no small margin either. "How should we address you?"


    "An interesting question." The tree-man made a series of sounds that reminded Xiang of the whale-song he had once heard as a boy. "That is my name, but you cannot make such sounds, can you? Call me Roots-Delving-Deep."


    "I am Xiang," Xiang replied. "I am honoured to meet you. Have you come here to aid us?"


    Roots-Delving-Deep nodded. "I am to stand guard over your people and to drive away monsters that might threaten your settlement." He paused. "But I am not to aid you once you venture away from your settlement."


    "Ah." Xiang could see it now. Doomwing wanted them to be safe in their homes while still providing them with a chance to test themselves and grow. "Your aid is most welcome." He pointed. "The rest of my people are that way. They are staying on the beach for now."


    "A wise choice. Continue your work, tiger-man. When night falls and you must leave this place and return to the beach, I will stand guard here. Your work and materials shall be kept safe."


    Xiang was pleased to hear that. It would be troublesome to post guards here, yet they could not leave their work and materials unguarded. "Thank you. By the way, are there any monsters in this jungle that we should be concerned about?"


    "There are many monsters that might be a threat to you if you are careless, but you have the strength to overcome most of them or at least escape, provided you remain alert and make use of your cunning. However, there are a few you should avoid at all costs."


    Xiang suppressed a shudder. The tree-man''s voice was flat, and the words were an order more than advice. "Who?"


    "There is an elder hydra who rules over much of the jungle. She could slay all of your people with ease. Even I could not face her and live. If my fellow tree-folk were to join me, we might be able to best her, but few of us would survive."


    Xiang''s eyes widened. "Such a creature lives here? Yet why has she not driven you from this place if she is so much stronger?"


    "We serve Doomwing, and she is no fool. She knows that if she draws Doomwing''s ire, she will die. Even an ancient hydra could not withstand him, and there are not many primordial hydras left in the world."


    "So we should just avoid her?" Xiang asked.


    Doomwing sighed. "Very well."


    The rabbit-boy squeaked when Doomwing''s magic washed over him. "What did you do?"


    "I used a spell that allows you to walk across mud unhindered. You are already smaller than both of us. It will take us forever to reach your village if you have to slog your way through the mud."


    "Oh." Haruto walked over to the road and took a step onto it. When he saw that his feet didn''t sink into the mud, his eyes lit up and he began to skip back and forth. "This is great!"


    "Save your energy for the walk," Doomwing advised. "Because Brother Tiger is too old to carry you, and there is no way I''m going to."


    "Don''t worry," Haruto promised. "I can make it back."


    The rabbit-boy could not, in fact, make it back. To his credit he tried valiantly, but he was too young and too small to keep up with them. In the end, Brother Tiger decided to carry him although Doomwing did use a spell to reduce the rabbit-boy''s weight to basically nothing. His friend was getting on in years.


    They reached the village not long before dusk, and it wasn''t long before Haruto was pulled from Brother Tiger''s back and subjected to a scolding that he would not forget any time soon. The boy''s mother was a ferocious rabbit-woman, and Doomwing could almost imagine her breathing fire, she was so angry. At the same time, however, it was easy for everyone except Haruto to see the relief she felt at having her son returned, and she heaped praise upon them both for bringing him back to her.


    Apparently, the village''s men had searched the area all night but had found no sign of him. They had feared the worst, and she had prepared herself for bad news. His safe return was like a miracle, and she insisted on offering them a place to stay, as well as the finest meal she could prepare.


    Haruto''s home was a humble place and a bit crowded with him, his mother and father, and five siblings. Rabbit-people were known to have large families, and his was no exception. He was the youngest of his siblings, with his older brothers helping their father toil in the fields whilst his sisters helped their mother who was a weaver.


    "Master monk," Haruto''s father asked once dinner had finished. "Could I trouble you for some advice?"


    Brother Tiger smiled while Doomwing turned most of his attention to the squabble his actual body was adjudicating. "Of course. How may I help you?"


    "We''re harvesting our crops now, but we''ve had a few injuries more than usual, to be honest. We also have a few women expecting in the next couple of months." He shrugged. "That always seems to happen during harvest time. We did have a healer, but she passed away last year. Her apprentice is doing her best, but she''s still quite young I feel ashamed to ask after you''ve already done so much for us by returning my son, but would you happen to know anything about healing?"


    "I would," Brother Tiger replied. "I would be happy to look at the injured and to offer what care and guidance I can."


    "Thank you." The rabbit-man bowed low. "It would greatly ease our worries if you could."


    The next morning, Doomwing followed Brother Tiger around as he met with the injured, checked in on the pregnant women, and consulted with the young healer. He doubted he would learn anything interesting the magic the rabbit-people employed was crude and lacking in both power and sophistication but there was no harm in observing. Even if he didn''t learn anything new, what he saw might inspire a new idea or two.


    The injured had a variety of ailments, most of which were well within Brother Tiger''s abilities to treat. It was more a question of time. The treatments available to them would take weeks to heal their injuries, and the harvest would be over by then. Admittedly, they would probably be crippled without magic, but there was still a harvest to take in.


    The pregnant women were likewise in a reasonable state although from what Doomwing had observed, the birth itself was often the most dangerous time. Things could go wrong quickly, and healing magic that was designed to slowly but surely treat injuries and cure illnesses was of little use when a woman and her infant could be dead within minutes.


    As for the healer, a young rabbit-woman, Doomwing was grudgingly impressed. Her magic was crude, and the alchemical and apothecary methods she possessed were laughable when compared to his expertise. However, she made the most of what she had, and Brother Tiger praised her for her ingenuity. She needed more experience and better techniques. Time would provide the former, and Brother Tiger promised to provide as much of the latter as he could during his stay.


    In the afternoon, they happened across Haruto. The rabbit-boy must have finished his chores because he crept off to an isolated corner of the farm and pulled something out of the hollow of a long-dead tree. It was a sword a rusty, broken blade that he must have found buried in the ground somewhere nearby.


    Grinning from ear to ear, the rabbit-boy began to swing the broken sword around haphazardly.


    "You should go stop him before he cuts his own arm off if that blade can even manage that much," Doomwing said.


    But Brother Tiger was frozen, his gaze locked onto the sword.


    "What is it?" Doomwing asked.


    "I recognise that sword or at least, I''ve seen many like it before."


    "Oh?"


    "Before I became a monk the soldiers under my command used swords just like that," Brother Tiger said.


    "I thought tiger-men fought with their claws," Doomwing said.


    "Yes, we prefer to fight with our claws. However, weaker tiger-men have a tendency to break their claws if they use them too much in battle, which is why we also use swords." Brother Tiger shuddered. "If he found a sword like that nearby this village ah. I see."


    "What?" Doomwing asked.


    "My brother was asked to set this area aflame. He must have been stopped before he could. Otherwise, this village would have been completely destroyed and all of its people slain." Brother Tiger swallowed thickly, and Doomwing knew that he was no longer seeing the village with its fields of crops but a wasteland of ash and blood. "Even now, it seems I can''t escape my past," he murmured. "I"


    "Brother Tiger? Doomwing?" Haruto had noticed them. The rabbit-boy stared at them and then glanced down at the broken sword in his hands. "I"


    "You''re holding it wrong," Brother Tiger said gently.


    "Huh?"


    "You''re holding it wrong." Brother Tiger picked up a stick and took up a stance. "You should hold it more like this and use this sort of stance."


    Haruto''s eyes widened. "I really? Is that how you''re supposed to use a sword."


    "It is one way to use a sword," Brother Tiger murmured. "Here. Copy what I do."


    Not quite able to believe his good fortune, Haruto hurried to obey. His movements were clumsy compared to Brother Tiger''s, but he tried his best. After a few repetitions, Brother Tiger stopped demonstrating and moved to correcting Haruto more directly. It went on like that for almost an hour, and by then, Haruto could barely stand.


    "How come you know how to use a sword?" Haruto asked. "I thought monks didn''t fight."


    "I wasn''t always a monk," Brother Tiger replied, and then he sat down in front of Haruto. "Haruto do you know what a sword is?"


    "Um a sword?" Haruto said. Doomwing laughed, and the rabbit-boy glared. "Hey!"


    "A sword is a tool, Haruto, and it is no better or worse than the one who wields it. In the hands of an evil person, a sword can be an instrument of terror and suffering. In the hands of a good person, a sword can bring freedom and safety."


    Haruto was quiet now, hanging on every word. There was an intensity in Brother Tiger''s voice that had not been before. Even if he didn''t know why, Haruto knew that these words were important.


    "You are young, Haruto," Brother Tiger said. "Young and innocent. You do not know how terrible this world can be, the kind of suffering and sorrow and heartbreak it can inflict, and I pray you never do. But if you really want to be a hero, if you truly wish to walk the path of the sword, then you will learn about all of those things. I know. I have been there." Brother Tiger reached for the broken sword and then jerked his hand back just before he could touch it. "Haruto once you take a life, there is no going back."


    "Are you saying I should never kill?" the rabbit-boy asked. He was young, but he wasn''t stupid. He must be imagining how hard it would be to be a hero without ever taking a life.


    "You are not a monk. You have not made a vow to never kill. But killing killing will change you, and if you kill someone, you can''t take it back. They are dead, regardless of whether or not they deserved it. And as hard as it may seem to take a life, Haruto, it it can become very easy too. It can be so easy that one life turns into two turns into ten turns into a thousand turns into too many more."


    Haruto had gone pale, and the sword had slipped from his fingers.


    "I wish I could tell you that you will never have to kill. But this world this world is not always kind. There may come a day when killing is the only option you have. Maybe it''s bandits attacking your village. Maybe it''s a monster attacking your family. Or maybe it''s an army marching to lay waste to everything you hold dear. When that day comes, you may have to kill. But first, ask yourself if there is another way. Ask yourself if you truly have to draw your sword. But if you must kill, if you must take up arms, then there is something I want you to remember."


    "What?"


    "If there is no other way, if you have no option but to kill, then do not hesitate. Do not think about just the people you might have to kill. Think about those who will die if you are not willing to kill. You should not take a life lightly, but once you are in a position where you must take a life, do not falter, do not turn away, do not shirk your duty. Kill if you must, so that others may live. Kill so that others do not have to because taking a life is a great burden a great burden and a hero must have the strength to carry that weight."


    "Before you were a monk were you a hero?" Haruto asked.


    Brother Tiger shook his head. "No. I was no hero. I killed when I shouldn''t have and failed to kill when I should have, and the weight of those failures was too much for me."


    "Oh."


    "It''s okay if you don''t understand yet," Brother Tiger said. "And I hope you never have to understand. But remember my words, Haruto, and may they bring you comfort and wisdom if they are ever needed."


    "Okay. I''ll try to remember."


    They stayed in the village for almost two months, long enough to see the harvest brought in, the injured fully healed, and the pregnant women deliver their children safely. Brother Tiger taught the village healer as much as he could while continuing to train Haruto. To Doomwing''s surprise, the rabbit-boy seemed to have some talent with the blade.


    When the time came for them to leave, the villagers saw them off with a combination of smiles and tears, with Haruto promising to come find them again when he was all grown up and a hero in his own right.


    They spent their first night away from the village under a tree.


    "How many years do you think I have?" Brother Tiger asked as he stared into the campfire.


    "At least another ten," Doomwing said. "You are old, but you still have some measure of strength."


    "Ten years?" Brother Tiger smiled ruefully. "It''s been so many years already, and I still have so far to go" He shook himself. "I''ve been meaning to ask you, but what do dragons believe when it comes to death? Where do our souls go?"


    "There is a great and endless cycle of death and rebirth," Doomwing replied. "That is what our creators taught us, and it is what I believe."


    "Have you seen it?" Brother Tiger asked curiously.


    "No. There are things beyond even my magic."


    "Ah. A pity. I was going to ask what it looked like." The monk smiled faintly. "Do you know what tiger-people believe? According to our ancestors, we came in ships from across the sea. We believe that when we die, our souls go back across the sea to the land of our ancestors. We call it the final shore, and they say that when we reach it, we will be greeted by those we have loved and who loved us in return. I wonder I wonder if there will be anyone to greet me."


    "I think there will be many," Doomwing replied. "Perhaps not tiger-people, but many others." He paused. "You have done so much for others, my friend. Perhaps perhaps it is enough."


    "It can never be enough," Brother Tiger said. "It can never be enough." He looked down at his hands. "The good deeds I do now could never be enough to wash away the sins of my past, but still but still I must try." He took a deep breath. "They say that souls are guided to the final shore by cries of welcome from those who love them. But if no one calls out if there is no one there to greet them, then they wander forever." He sighed. "I wonder which of us is right, my friend."


    "If the dead cannot return, then perhaps we shall never know."


    "I hope you are right," Brother Tiger said.


    "Oh?" Doomwing''s brows furrowed. "Why?"


    "Because if there truly is a final shore, then I have to hope that we never see each other again after I pass. Time no longer wearies you, so if I see you there"


    "Ah. I must have died."


    "But if you''re right even if I die, then, well, there''s still a chance I''ll see you in my next life. After all, you''ve lived for so long already. Who''s to say you won''t still be around when I come back."


    Doomwing chuckled. "You do realise that if you reincarnate, you won''t be you anymore. In fact, I might not even be able to recognise your soul."


    "Maybe, but I''d like to think we''d still become friends somehow."


    "I''d like to think so too." Doomwing nodded. "You still have plenty of time, but when you do pass I''ll keep an eye out for you. That way, we''ll know which one of us was right."


    Brother Dragon let his last words linger in the air before turning to the tiger-people. They had listened avidly, and Xiang was the first to speak.


    "This Brother Tiger what became of him?" Xiang asked.


    "He died a hero." Brother Dragon smiled sadly. "His was a death more glorious than any tiger-man could have imagined. It was a death worthy of the greatest of dragons. And I think I think at the end, he finally made his peace with his past, and that was worth more to him than any glory he achieved."


    "And Haruto?" Hua asked.


    "I do not know," Brother Dragon admitted. "A great evil came from the skies, and we never had the chance to go back to that village." Brother Dragon did not have the heart to tell them that Haruto and his fellow villagers had most likely perished in the devastation the Exiled Star had wrought.


    "Brother Tiger was a monk," Xiang murmured. "Did he leave any teachings behind? I would like to study them if I could."


    "He did leave teachings behind," Brother Dragon said. "I can teach you, if you like. I will not say that I agree with all of them, but nobody knows them better than me."


    "I would be honoured."


    "He would have liked you," Brother Dragon said. "I think he would have liked you a lot."

 Chapter 43: The Dragon Imposes Himself

    Chapter 43: The Dragon Imposes Himself


    Doomwing scowled as he flew out over the sea. He had sensed power stirring near his territory, and that sensation had grown stronger with each passing moment. This was no ancient titan rising from the depths for a bit of air. This was most likely two ancient giants of the deep doing battle.


    Normally, he wouldn''t have cared. If the ancients of the deep wanted to kill each other, then let them. Perhaps they''d be spared a repeat of the Third Catastrophe that way. However, he did not want any such squabble near his territory. The last thing he needed was for the tiger-people village to be crushed after some kraken picked up a leviathan and threw them onto land.


    He''d seen it happen before. Even setting aside the Lord of the Tides, the oldest and mightiest of the ocean''s denizens were more than capable of radically altering the weather and landscape when they fought. He''d once gone looking for a bit of whale to eat only to stumble across a kraken beating a leviathan over the head with what appeared to be the remains of an island before the kraken flung a coral reef at the cephalopod.


    It had not helped that Ashheart had been with him.


    The other dragon had taken one look at the chaos and had promptly thrown himself into the melee with gleeful abandon. In the end, the kraken and the leviathan had gone off to lick their wounds while Ashheart lounged upon a newly made island.


    And Doomwing?


    He''d been forced to deal with all irate merfolk who''d fled the area only to return and find their homes destroyed, their coral reef imbedded in a new volcanic island, and a new volcanic island where open sea had once been.


    And the worst part?The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))


    He hadn''t managed to get any whale.


    Just the thought of the debacle deepened his scowl as he took note of the massive storm up ahead. The formerly clear skies had given way to a mass of towering black clouds, a thunderhead that promised wind, rain, hail, and lightning. The once calm surface of the ocean was now riven by clashing mountains of water that slammed into each other with fleet-crushing force.


    He bared his teeth.


    This whole mess was headed toward his territory.


    The gathering storm parted before him as he drew closer, the tempest''s rage meaningless before his might and his magic. Thousands of merfolk fought in the waters below him, their sleek, swift forms accompanied by giant sharks, manta rays, and octopi. More fought along the surface, riding on the backs of hippocampi, their tridents, spears, and swords flashing as they laid into their foes. Sea serpents roared and sent magic streaking up into the sky after flocks of sirens whose eerie singing threatened to rob them of their wits and lull them into a sleep they would never wake from.


    And at the heart of the battle were the two giants of the deep he had sensed: a kraken and a leviathan. They were each bigger than him by a considerable margin although that said little of their power. By and large, the creatures of the deep grew larger than their terrestrial or aerial counterparts.


    The kraken was mostly a dull brown, but her body was punctuated by rings of bright blue and green. Her eyes were a baleful orange, and her massive beak was exposed. Her opponent was a male leviathan of similar size. Dark blue scales covered most of his body, with twin streaks of green along his belly.


    The kraken brought one tentacle down on the leviathan''s head with thunderous force, and the impact sent rain flying outward. A bolt of lightning crackled down from the sky to strike the momentarily stunned leviathan, and it was joined by another and another until it seemed the whole storm was little more than an extension of the kraken''s wrath.


    But the leviathan recovered, and the waters around the creature trembled before the leviathan''s head drew back and he unleashed a beam of water at the kraken. The sheer force of the attack was enough to shove the kraken away, and the gleaming barriers of magic the kraken conjured to fend off the assault shattered in quick succession.


    Doomwing had seen leviathans pierce through islands and scour canals into the coast with attacks like that.


    Not to be outdone, the kraken hurled herself at the leviathan, and the pair turned the already tumultuous ocean into a scene of utter devastation as they grappled back and forth, heedless of the lesser creatures caught in their path. Sirens were crushed in mid-air as a flailing tentacle swung wildly at a heavily armoured jaw. A pod of horned whales were sent flying through the air as colossal serpentine coils smashed into the water and tried to crush the life out of an island-sized octopoid.


    Was there another undersea war going on?


    Just as there were kingdoms on land, there were kingdoms beneath the waves. For obvious reasons, most kingdoms either paid homage to or were directly ruled by creatures like leviathans and krakens. Yes, the majority of the citizens would be merfolk or aquatic beast-people, but when push came to shove, krakens and leviathans were the ones in charge.


    After all, what were merfolk or beast-people supposed to do when a living island showed up and started smashing everything? Their only real chance for survival would be to find a similarly huge and powerful creature to protect them. And although krakens and leviathans didn''t have the same hoarding tendencies as dragons, they were fond of laying claim to vast swathes of the ocean.


    Depending on who was involved, these wars could involve more than just two giants of the deep. It wasn''t uncommon for the very oldest and mightiest krakens and leviathans to send their children into battle as well, creating battlefronts that could stretch across entire oceans, with each major clash punctuated by raging storms.


    The duelling behemoths in front of him were not the very oldest and mightiest of their kind. Instead, they were likely two or perhaps three Ages old. It showed in the way they fought too all power and fury with little of the cunning and deceptiveness that was common of their older and more experienced kin.


    Doomwing was about to announce himself the fools were so caught up in their petty squabble that they hadn''t even noticed his approach when he caught sight of something that was equal parts baffling and endearing.


    A water salamander hatchling was swimming through the battle, his foot-long form riding the crest of one wave after another as he continued to make his way in the general direction of Doomwing''s territory. Either through absurd luck or impossible skill, the creature survived near-death experience after near-death experience as he paddled through the maelstrom, a silly smile on his face and a cheerful air about him despite the clash of weapons, the roar of magic, and the monumental thunder of the two warring titans.


    Ludicrous.


    Yet utterly typical.


    True salamanders, like fire salamanders and waters salamanders, were perhaps the most exasperating creatures in the world. They did not raise their young for long. Instead, they looked after their young just long enough to ensure they could survive and then they sent their young out into the world.


    Why?


    "Doomwing." The leviathan arrived first. He was similar in colouration to the leviathan Doomwing had bested, but he was larger and less streamlined. Instead, his scales were rough and jagged, and dorsal plates rose up from his back like the peaks of broken mountains against the westering sun. "Release my son."


    "He was one of yours, Torrentcoil?" Doomwing snorted. "With his lack of intelligence, I wasn''t able to make the connection."


    Torrentcoil had sided with them during the Third Age, turning against the Lord of the Tides. That was worthy of respect, and Doomwing had stayed out the leviathan''s business ever since. It was a pity his son was a fool.


    "He is a foolish whelp," Torrentcoil replied. "But he is still my whelp."


    "Hmph." Doomwing released his telekinetic hold on the younger leviathan, and he wisely fled to his father''s side. "This squabble is nearing my territory."


    "That was not intended," Torrentcoil replied. "My battle is with "


    His words were interrupted by the arrival of a second kraken. She was larger than the first and of a size with Torrentcoil. Her gaze went from the kraken twitching weakly upon the water to first Torrentcoil and then Doomwing.


    "Stormbeak," Torrentcoil snarled.


    The kraken ignored him in favour of tugging the smaller kraken to her. "You have harmed my daughter, Doomwing."


    "And your daughter is a fool who should have known to retreat instead of trying to strike at me with the storm." Doomwing made a sound of contempt. "She is at least an Age too young to even think of trying that, and she was lucky it was me she faced. Had she tried that on Stormbringer, she would be dead."


    Stormbringer was usually easy-going, but she took any attempt to strike at her with lightning personally. She considered it at insult and would generally retaliate by showing her opponent what lightning was truly capable of. And considering she was a primordial tempest dragon, that demonstration was generally fatal. Even Doomwing would think twice before throwing lightning at her.


    Stormbeak glared at him, and he stared back. Both Torrentcoil and Stormbeak were powerful, and they were similar in age to him. But they were both highly specialised in how they fought. They had weaknesses he could exploit, and they both knew it. He was more well-rounded, and if need be, he could simply retreat up into the sky and rain magic down until they were forced to retreat. The battle would not be easy by any means, and he could well find himself in trouble if he was careless, but the odds would favour him.


    Besides, neither of them would dare risk battle with their children around. The moment the three of them fought seriously, their children would die. They simply weren''t equipped to handle a proper fight between three beings from the First Age.


    "I care nothing for the wars you wage against each other," Doomwing said. "Fill the ocean with blood if you wish but do it somewhere else. You know the boundaries of my territory, and you know how close this battle is to intruding. I will not have your squabbles damage what is mine. Take your children and your followers and go."


    They locked gazes with him for a long moment, and the very ocean trembled as their power stirred. He almost snorted. They were posturing, nothing more. They could not afford to look weak in front of their followers, but they also knew better than to push him. No doubt they could tell that his injuries had healed. Perhaps they''d have given him more trouble, maybe even tested him, if he had still been wounded, but they knew better than to challenge him when he was at full strength.


    Without another word, they departed, leaving with their children and their followers.


    Doomwing watched them go and then turned away, carrying the water salamander with him.


    The tiny creature made a grateful sound, and Doomwing chuckled.


    "Yes. I can fly much more swiftly than you can swim."


    Xiang blinked as a strange creature waddled up the beach toward him and his family before making itself perfectly at home by the fire. It even had the audacity to creep forward and tug a fish off his plate before munching on it.


    "What is that, father?" his son asked. "And is it dangerous?"


    "I I''m not sure." Xiang wasn''t sure if he should be amazed or wary of the creature''s audacity. It was only a foot long, and he couldn''t sense any great power within it. It was also oddly adorable with its strange half reptilian and half amphibian features. It also had a silly but endearing smile on its face as it ate.


    "He is a water salamander," Brother Dragon said, padding over and inspecting the creature carefully. "And it would seem that your family is quite fortunate."


    "A water salamander?" Xiang''s eyes widened. He had heard of salamanders before. In fact, he''d encountered several of them over the years although they had all been significantly larger than this one, and none of them had been water salamanders although that would explain the more aquatic appearance of this one. If he recalled correctly, there was a legend about them seeking people out


    "Yes. It appears that he has chosen your family." Brother Dragon chuckled. "You''re stuck with him now."


    "What does that mean?" Xiang asked. Realising that the creature was not a threat, his youngest child had decided to pat the water salamander on the back. The salamander made a happy sound and continued to munch away on his fish.


    "This salamander has chosen you and your family. Protect him and raise him as your own, and he will repay your loyalty many times over. He may be small and weak now, but he will one day grow far more powerful than any tiger-person. When that day comes, he will look upon these days fondly and continue to protect and care for your descendants as you once protected and cared for him."


    "Ah." Xiang''s eyes widened. So the legends were true then. Setting aside his meal, Xiang gently lifted the water salamander up to eye level. "I am Xiang, little one. From this moment forward, you shall be part of my family. May our days together be prosperous."


    The water salamander chirped and nodded before going back to eating his fish.


    "He agrees," Brother Dragon drawled. "I''d prepare more fish for him too. He had quite the interesting journey on his way here."

 Chapter 44: The Dragon Offers Advice

    Chapter 44: The Dragon Offers Advice


    Frostfang glanced at Squallwing out of the corner of his eye. The younger dragon was huffing and puffing as he laboured to keep pace. He had told Stormbringer that he would be seeking out Regal Flame next, and she had asked him to take Squallwing with him. Apparently, her grandson had business in Regal Flame''s lands, and having Frostfang around should keep him from getting himself killed.


    She had stated that last part quite bluntly, and he could see what she meant. Squallwing had achieved his First Awakening, but despite being five hundred feet long, the younger dragon was the very opposite of imposing. He was a sluggish flier, lacking in both speed and agility, and neither his physical abilities or magic were impressive either.


    What he did have, however, was an oddly well-developed grasp of various magic-related subjects that he was only too happy to talk about. And he had talked about them. A lot. The young dragon had initially been quite wary of Frostfang, but once he''d realised that Frostfang wasn''t about to eat him or tear him limb from limb, he''d rambled on about a variety of topics, from alchemy and how to shortcut the casting of ordered magic to the creation of charms and magical focuses.


    Frostfang had paid only passing attention to Squallwing''s monologue, but the young dragon''s knowledge was certainly above average for his age. He must be a scholar in temperament although his neglect of his combat-related abilities was troubling.


    "You are falling behind," Frostfang drawled as they flew over the ocean. "How often do you fly?"


    Squallwing winced. "Perhaps less than I should." He paused. This was likely a topic that he had spoken of many times before, both with his parents and with Stormbringer. "I just prefer studying over hunting and fighting, and my mother says it is safer for me."


    "Hmm" Frostfang was not one to interfere in how another dragon raised their child, but this was an important topic. He wouldn''t put it past Stormbringer to have sent Squallwing with him just so he could hear the thoughts of another primordial dragon. "Studying is all well and good, but this world can be a cruel place. If you do not know how to fight, then only death awaits you."


    Squallwing visibly shuddered, and the laboured beating of his wings slowed as he shifted himself into a better position to conserve energy. Frostfang frowned. Had he flown so infrequently that flying in formation with a larger dragon wasn''t instinctive? He doubted that Stormbringer would tolerate such a careless approach to raising a hatchling, so there must be some explanation.


    "I know," Squallwing said. "I am weak compared to my cousins."


    "Why?" Frostfang asked. He saw no need for excessive tact. If there was a problem, then it should be solved now while Squallwing was still young rather than allowing it to fester. If nothing else, addressing his physical and magical weakness would make it easier for him to eventually attain a Second Awakening.


    "I was badly wounded when I was a hatchling," Squallwing said. "I strayed from my mother''s side and encountered a flock of drakes."


    Frostfang growled. Drakes and dragons rarely got along. Dragons viewed drakes as lesser versions of themselves whilst drakes resented the natural advantages that dragons had, foremost amongst them their access to a magical breath attack. Drakes could develop breath attacks, but they were thoroughly mundane in nature.


    For instance, a fire drake might be able to breathe fire, but it was a strictly mundane process. Their fire was created by the combination of a number of substances secreted from glands in their mouths. In contrast, a dragon''s fire was magical in nature, a product of their soul and magic. It was not uncommon for young fire drakes to be hunted by humans, elves, and other such species. They would slay the drake and take those glands, allowing them to create a variety of flammable substances. In contrast, a dragon''s fire could not be stolen so easily. Indeed, once a dragon was dead, their fire was gone forever.


    As a result, drakes and dragons frequently clashed. Drakes were typically smaller and weaker than dragons, and their Ascensions were no match for the Awakenings a dragon experienced. However, they often lived in large groups, and it was not unheard of for flocks of drakes to attack and kill lesser dragons and hatchlings.


    "You did well to survive," Frostfang rumbled. "What became of the drakes?"


    "My mother heard my cries. She was able to rescue me before I perished. When my grandmother found out, she dealt with the drakes herself."


    Frostfang chuckled. "That would not have taken her long."


    "According to my cousins, it rained drakes that day, so many fell before her wrath."


    Frostfang could easily imagine that. Stormbringer was a primordial dragon. There was no drake alive who could stand against her, and her wrath would have been terrible indeed. To harm one of her grandchildren? That was not something she could overlook, especially since Squallwing had only been a hatchling at the time.


    "How large were you then?" Frostfang asked.


    "About six feet long."


    That got his attention, and he turned his head to gaze at the younger dragon. "Six feet long? Your mother was careless then. You should never have been out of her sight at that size."


    "I was curious," Squallwing said, coming to his mother''s defence. "And I was good at sneaking off. It was my fault, not hers."


    "You said that you were badly wounded."


    "Yes. I barely survived, and I was fortunate that I was healed without any permanent damage to my magical circulatory system. But since that day, my mother rarely lets me out of her sight, and I have become reluctant to venture too far from our home."


    "You were both afraid," Frostfang said, and Squallwing flinched. Cowardice was one of the worst insults that could be levelled against a dragon. It was one thing for a dragon to retreat because they could not win and needed time to devise a strategy or acquire more power. It was quite another for a dragon to flee because they were afraid.


    "I yes." Squallwing sagged. "I was able to achieve a First Awakening with my grandmother''s help, but she said that I would be unlikely to achieve a Second Awakening if I continued this way." His body tensed. "I I don''t want to be weak, and I don''t want to die so young. When my grandmother found out that you were going to Regal Flame next, I begged her to let me join you."


    "Oh?" Perhaps the hatchling had some courage in him after all. "Why?"


    "Regal Flame is supposed to have a lot of books about magic. Grandmother says that Regal Flame owes her a few small favours, and that I could exchange those for being allowed to copy those books. I don''t have large magical reserves, but I do know a lot about magic. The books I want to copy are supposed to contain training methods for increasing my magical reserves. If I can do that, then maybe I won''t be so weak."


    It was odd that he was fixated on acquiring new training methods, but perhaps there was something about him that prevented him from making good use of the more common ones. At least he was taking action.


    "What of your father?" Frostfang asked. "You have not spoken of him."


    "He fell," Squallwing sagged. "When I was still in my egg. He went mad during the Sixth Catastrophe and grandmother had to to"


    "Ah." Frostfang nodded grimly.


    The Sixth Catastrophe''s powers had been potent indeed. Part of her pre-emptive strike had involved driving many of her potential opponents mad and having them turn on their own families, friends, and allies. Most likely, Stormbringer had been forced to strike Squallwing''s father down before he could do something terrible. Freeing the minds of the afflicted had been possible, but it had not been easy, and it had taken expertise that not all of them had possessed at the time. Fortunately, Doomwing had developed countermeasures and had shared them amongst any who had the strength and expertise to use them, but many had fallen prey to the Sixth Catastrophe''s machinations in the meantime.


    "You cannot change the past," Frostfang said. "Instead, focus on becoming a dragon your father can be proud of." He bared his teeth. "You are tired. I can feel it. But you are a dragon. Do not falter. As weak as your body is now, it will rapidly adjust if you continue to push yourself."


    "What if fall out of the sky?" Squallwing asked. "My wings they ache so much. I''ve never flown this far in one go before."


    "Hmm" He made as if to consider the matter before nodding. "I will need to speak to Phacelia in person, but those terms seem agreeable to me. I will conclude my business with Regal Flame and then seek out Phacelia before I leave this region."


    "Thank you, mighty Frostfang. I shall relay your words to my lady." Eremos pointed toward an outcrop of black stone in the distance. "If you and your companion are still hungry, then you may wish to try your luck over there. It is not unusual for great worms to be found in that area."


    "Worms?" Frostfang asked. "How large?"


    "Many are the length of your companion, and the largest are bigger even than you."


    "Hmm perhaps we shall try our luck," Frostfang said.


    "Then good hunting," Eremos said before bowing. "We shall take out leave now."


    Frostfang turned to Squallwing. The younger dragon must have known what he was thinking because he was cringing.


    "Do we have to?" Squallwing asked.


    "If you wish to grow stronger, there is no time like the present. My presence ensures that you shall not come to any true harm. Use this opportunity to grow stronger."


    Squallwing nodded. "Yes, that is how I should look at it. Besides, they''re just worms. How difficult can they be to slay?"


    Frostfang ignored Squallwing''s pleas for help as the younger dragon was tackled headfirst into the sand. The worm he''d chosen to fight was slightly larger than him and far more vicious. A few other worms had gathered, drawn by the fighting, but they kept their distance, wary of Frostfang.


    "Help!" Squallwing wailed, clawing frantically at the worm. Unfortunately, the creature''s entire body was heavily armoured, so all he was doing was making it madder. The worm''s mouth was filled with circular rows of serrated teeth, and sparks flew as it tried to rip into Squallwing''s side.


    "You''re fine," Frostfang replied. "Stop flailing around and get your footing." Perhaps out of fear or desperation, Squallwing obeyed. The young dragon managed to get his feet under him. "Good. Now brace your shoulder under the worm and lift."


    "It''s heavy!"


    "You''re a dragon. You can lift it. And if your muscles aren''t strong enough, use a bit of magic. You know enhancement magic, right?"


    "I''ve never used it in a situation like this!" Squallwing growled. He had braced his shoulder underneath the worm as best he could, but the monsters refused to budge. "My feet are sinking into the sand."


    "Then harden the sand beneath you with magic." One of the other worms lumbered forward to intervene, and Frostfang sent a blast of searing cold at it. The others fled as the worm was frozen solid. "Breathe. Relax. The most dangerous part of the worm is its mouth. With your shoulder braced under it, it can''t get at you. Take your time."


    Frostfang could remember his first real hunt. He''d been so much smaller then, and his father had stayed back, allowing him to make mistakes as he''d squared off against a giant bear. At the time, Frostfang had felt as though he was fighting for his life, but he had realised afterward that his father could have intervened at any moment. As the battle had progressed, his father had spoken to him, his calm voice offering advice on how best to approach the situation.


    On that day, Frostfang had learned of the importance of keeping his wits about him and mastering his emotions. Emotions could be useful things, but thinking clearly during battle was essential. Anger could make a dragon reckless whilst fear could rob them of their strength. A wise dragon learned how to harness the power of their emotions while never allowing those emotions to rule them.


    "That''s it," Frostfang said as the ground beneath Squallwing hardened. "Good. Now, use your enhancement magic and don''t forget to keep your grip tight. Don''t let the worm squirm free."


    Squallwing snarled and bared his teeth as he finally began to drive the worm back. Lightning crackled over his scales, and his wings pushed against the ground to boost his momentum.


    "It''s off balance now," Frostfang said. "Twist and throw it. You''ll know how. It''s instinct." Squallwing roared and pivoted, heaving the worm over his shoulder. It slammed into the desert sand, momentarily stunned. "Use your lightning! Aim for its mouth!"


    Squallwing drew his head back and then unleashed a bolt of lightning straight into the worm''s mouth. The creature shrieked, and then fell still and silent as smoke drifted out of its maw. Most likely, the lightning had fried its innards and brain. Squallwing dragged in several deep breaths and then collapsed onto his back, wings splayed out, scarcely able to move.


    Frostfang chuckled and loomed over Squallwing. His scales were cracked in multiple places, one of wings was moving slightly awkwardly, and he had a few chipped teeth from when he''d made the mistake of trying to bite the worm in the head. "How do you feel?"


    Squallwing stared at him. "I almost died! It almost ripped my chest open! I I" He began to laugh. "I feel I feel alive!"


    Frostfang grinned. "Good. Remember this feeling. This is what it means to be a dragon." He hauled Squallwing up onto his feet. "We should go visit Regal Flame now."


    "Like this?" Squallwing motioned at his battered body. "I look terrible."


    "Regal Flame is the daughter of Sovereign Flame who was the oldest and mightiest of our kind in the days when the First Gods still walked the world. They called him the Uncrowned King, for dragons have no kings, yet there was not a dragon alive in those days who would not have been proud to call him such. How do you think he won the respect of all our kind? It was through battle through blood and claw and flame! She will not think less of you for arriving bearing wounds from a proper hunt."


    Squallwing nodded slowly. "I I see." He tested his wings. "I can fly, perhaps not as quickly as usual, but I can fly."


    "You are fine," Frostfang said, using a small burst of magic to assess the younger dragon''s wounds. "None of your wounds are serious. It will take you a few days at most to heal." He lifted the worm up and stored it away with his magic. "We can give the worm to Regal Flame. If we say it was from your first proper hunt, she will value it appropriately."


    "But I''ve hunted before," Squallwing said.


    "Not like this, you haven''t. I can tell. Most likely your mother had you fight things much weaker than yourself. This worm was a decent challenge, and the wounds you bear are a testament to its strength. This was a proper hunt."


    The words seemed to strike a chord because Squallwing''s claws clenched, and he looked at the ruined dunes with fresh eyes. "Thank you," he said at last.


    Frostfang stared at him for a long moment. His mother must have been so scared of losing him, especially after what had happened to her mate, and yet her attempts to keep him safe would only leave him more vulnerable in the long run. A weakling he might be, but he would never grow stronger if he was coddled. Perhaps that was why Stormbringer had agreed to let him accompany Frostfang. Frostfang would not coddle him, and seemingly small successes like this hunt could serve as the building blocks for future improvement.


    Hmm now that Frostfang thought about it, lessons such as these would only aid him in raising his own hatchlings.


    "There is no need to thank me," Frostfang said. "But if you wish to prove your gratitude, then grow stronger. You may never reach the heights of your grandmother, but there is no reason that you cannot be stronger tomorrow than you are today."

 Chapter 45: The Noble Flame

    Chapter 45: The Noble Flame


    "Be mindful of your words," Frostfang advised Squallwing as they made their way toward the mountains. "Regal Flame is not one to take offence without reason, but the place we are going it is hallowed ground."


    "Hallowed ground?" The younger dragon''s brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"


    "There is no need for me to explain. You will understand when you see it."


    As they drew closer to the mountains looming up toward the sky, Frostfang felt the gaze of many dragons upon him. Dragons were often solitary creatures although they were happy to live with any mates they took and whatever hatchlings they might have. Yet there were still those amongst them who sought the company of others and who looked to others for direction.


    That was why powerful dragons often had followers, typically younger dragons who sought their guidance and protection in exchange for serving loyally. It was nothing as regimented as the kingships amongst men, elves, or dwarves, but there was still a hierarchy. The ruling dragon was responsible for those below them and should offer advice and aid with regards to Awakenings and the like. In exchange, the lesser dragons would help defend their ruler''s domain and handle any tasks that did not require their ruler''s full attention.


    Stormbringer had many such followers. They pledged themselves to her because she was powerful and easy-going, and she was known for her willingness to defend those who served her. Moreover, she had ready access to many resources and had demonstrated her ability to help other dragons achieve further Awakenings.


    In the days before his wounding and encasement within a mountain, Ashheart had ruled over a group of dragons who shared his disposition and approach to life. They were fierce warriors and loyal to a fault, and they had sought to increase their power through combat and struggle. They had gone their separate ways after his fall, reuniting only when his mate and child had called for their aid, but they would likely regather now that he had returned.


    Frostfang could not claim to rule over many dragons, for few dragons enjoyed the endless ice and snow of the true north. Yet the dragons who did live there answered to him. In exchange for his protection against greater threats and the guidance and aid he could provide toward further Awakenings, they helped guard the far north and aided the frost giants who also served him.


    But the largest faction of all belonged to Regal Flame. Her father had been Sovereign Flame, the oldest and mightiest of all dragons. He had been a natural disaster given form, a raging inferno bound in scales who could have set the world ablaze if he chose. The Uncrowned King they had called him, for dragons had no kings, yet every dragon of the First Age knew that if ever they were to choose a king, it would be him.


    When he and the other great dragons of the First Age had fallen, there had been a scramble for power and control amongst the survivors. Certain older dragons, more cowardly than the others, had hidden rather than fight. They had sought to claim dominion over the survivors, as though their survival was due to wisdom rather than cowardice.


    For all that Mother Tree had turned against them in the end, Frostfang would always be grateful for what she had done to those dragons. She had despised their cowardice more than anyone. She would have gladly died beside her creators, but her own form had made it difficult for her to join them in battle. Instead, they had asked her to stay behind, to shelter and protect others.


    Those arrogant dragons, those cowards and braggarts, had been lured to her tree, thinking they could cow her into submission with their numbers. Hah! Mother Tree had been older than even Sovereign Flame and so mighty that even the legendary dragons of the First Age would have been wary of facing her.


    What did she have to fear from cowards who had only lived by hiding when they should have fought?


    They had died at her hands, all of them, and though that might well have been the start of her downfall, Frostfang had never been able to bring himself to care. Those dragons had gotten what they deserved, for they had been little better than greedy, grasping fools seeking to take through trickery and cowardice what should only ever be gained through power and courage.


    And so there had been space for new leaders amongst the dragons, and who better, in the eyes of many, than Regal Flame, the daughter of Sovereign Flame?


    Over the Ages, dragons had flocked to her, and she had proven a worthy successor to her father. She could not match him in power perhaps no dragon ever would but she was wise and brave and mighty in her own right. She treated her followers well and many had risen high under her guidance and protection. In return, they served her with unwavering loyalty.


    That loyalty had shown itself most clearly when many of them had perished in her defence during Soulseeker''s treachery. Afterward, she had mourned them all and had done her best to help those they had left behind, from orphaned hatchlings to mates who were suddenly left alone.


    But the reason Soulseeker had so envied her domain and had been willing to commit such base treachery could be found in what Regal Flame''s domain contained. These mountains were amongst the very oldest in the world, and they were home to both Sovereign Flame''s old lair and one of the most important remaining relics of the First Age.


    "Look," Frostfang said. "Ahead of us."


    Squallwing looked, and his wings missed a beat as all of his attention was draw to the sight before them.


    At the heart of the mountains were seven great peaks, each so tall that their summits vanished into the clouds. And between them was a vast plateau of melted rock, so large that all the primordial dragons in the world could have gathered upon it with room to spare.


    "What is this place?" Squallwing asked.


    "They say that the Seven Gods worked together to make the first dragons. However, each of them had a favourite dragon whose creation they were most involved in. When their eggs were ready, they placed them deep within the seven peaks you see before you. This place, more than any other, could be called the birthplace of our kind. There were originally eight mountains, but Sovereign Flame wished for a place where he and the others could meet. He burned the eighth mountain with his fire until only the plateau remained."


    "The rock of the plateau looks different," Squallwing said. He made a face. "My analytical magic it''s not working properly either."


    "As sand can be melted into glass, so too did Sovereign Flame''s fire melt the rock into something else. It has no name because it has never needed a name. It cannot be found anywhere else, for only Sovereign Flame''s fire was hot enough to make it, and no flame before or since has ever been a match for his. No creature left in this world has the power to destroy it, and only the greatest of the dwarves of old could shape it. In the First Age, before the fall of the First Gods and the birth of the Broken God, the mightiest of our kind met here, and it was here that they held their council of war before their fateful battle against the Broken God."


    Squallwing no longer seemed to notice his injuries. Instead, his gaze was locked onto the plateau and the mountains around it. "And now?"


    "When it is necessary for primordial dragons like myself and your grandmother to meet in great numbers, this is where we meet. To hold dominion over this place is a great honour and one that should only belong to a select few."


    Soulseeker had sought to steal that honour through treachery, and he had died for it as well he should have. This place belonged to Regal Flame although Doomwing had some claim to it through his leadership over the years. However, Doomwing had never expressed any desire to take it for himself although he had made additions to it to honour their fallen and lay out the history of the world as they knew it.


    "We are being watched," Squallwing said.


    "Of course we are," Frostfang replied. "But pay them no mind. I am known to them and expected."


    From the mountains and the skies, they were watched. There were dozens of dragons here, from hatchlings to those who had achieved multiple Awakenings and lived several Ages. None made any move to bar their path, and Frostfang banked toward the plateau.


    "She is expecting me, so we will wait for her upon the plateau," Frostfang said. "But while we wait, you may wish to take a look around. There are things there you may find interesting. However, remember what I said. This is hallowed ground. Be respectful."


    "I will."


    They landed on the plateau, and Frostfang marvelled once again at the almost crystalline material that remained in the aftermath of Sovereign Flame''s fire. Even now, Ages after it had been made, the material remained undamaged by the weather or the countless claws and scales that had scraped across it. It was an ever-present reminder of the long-dead dragon''s power. He had fallen before the fury of the Broken God, but his flames had been mighty enough to wound even that most terrible of foes.


    Beside him, Squallwing was doing his best to stay respectful as he peered curiously at the material beneath them, tapping it with his claws and running his tail over it. Frostfang had a sneaking suspicion that if they had not been under observation, he would have pressed his face against the ground.


    As he waited for Squallwing to compose himself, a fire drake arrived. The drake''s scales were worn and battered, more a dull grey than the vibrant red they should be. But that was understandable. Despite the Ascensions this drake had experienced, he was perhaps the oldest drake in the world.


    "Allow me to welcome you on behalf of my lady," the drake said, spreading his wings and bowing. "She should be here shortly."


    "It has been a long time, Firetail," Frostfang replied. "I would have expected you to be at her side."


    The drake chuckled faintly. "I am not so sprightly as I once was. I would only slow her down. However, an old drake like me can still greet guests although I do hope my presence does not insult you."


    "Insult me?" Frostfang chuckled. "No. It does not. I would be fortunate to count one such as you amongst my followers."


    It was true that dragons and drakes often did not get along, but Firetail was something of an exception. His family had pledged their loyalty to Sovereign Flame long ago. After his death, they had offered their loyalty to Regal Flame despite her being a mere hatchling at the time. They had helped to protect her from the many machinations going on at the time and had been almost wiped out when her enemies had moved against her which may well have prompted Mother Tree to lash out at those traitorous dragons.


    Yet Frostfang was not worried. He knew what sort of dragon she was, as did Firetail who gave Squallwing a reassuring smile.


    "I had heard that Stormbringer had a grandson named Squallwing. The rumours say that he is a weakling and a coward." Squallwing''s expression fell, but Regal Flame pressed on. "However, it would seem those rumours were false. I do not see a coward before me, and weakness need not last forever." She took the worm and stored it with her magic. "I accept your gift in the spirit it was meant, young dragon. Your grandmother has spoken of you to me, and it is good to see that you are making progress. There is much you can learn from Frostfang. Pay close attention to his lessons, and you will do well."


    Squallwing bowed his head. "Thank you! I will do my best!"


    Regal Flame turned her attention to Frostfang. "You came here to trade, Frostfang. What is it that you desire?"


    The dragons she had brought with her would likely have no say in their negotiations. They were younger dragons, so she had probably brought them along to observe how negotiations should be conducted. It would not do for any of her followers to conduct themselves poorly in the future.


    "I seek to capture a fragment of your flame in this." Frostfang took out the crystal he had taken from his hoard. It was a rare treasure indeed the heart of a mountain he had obtained from dwarves during the Fourth Age for an exorbitant sum. It was one of the only things in the world that could hope to contain the raging flames of an inferno dragon, so they could be used for alchemical purposes. However, it still required the cooperation of the inferno dragon since binding even a fragment of their flame into the crystal would be impossible without the utmost precision and control on their behalf. Naturally, for the purposes he intended, the more powerful the flame the better and there was no dragon alive whose flame was mightier than Regal Flame''s.


    "That is not something to be lightly given." Like him, Regal Flame understood just how powerful her flames were from an alchemical perspective. They could be used to create all manner of horrific weapons or to help craft a catalyst that would help his mate achieve her Fourth Awakening. "For what purpose do you seek my flame?"


    "To help my mate achieve her Fourth Awakening," Frostfang replied.


    "Is that so?" Regal Flame tilted her head to the side. "I thought she was a dragon of ice and cold." Her eyes widened, and she smiled sunnily. "Ah, yes, it slipped my mind, but you had hatchlings recently, didn''t you?"


    "Yes," Frostfang replied proudly. "Three of them. A daughter and two sons."


    "Then you have my congratulations," Regal Flame replied. "Hatchlings are to be cherished and celebrated and to have three is good fortune indeed!"


    "I consider myself blessed," Frostfang replied.


    "I shall prepare gifts for them," Regal Flame promised. "But your mate?"


    "Yes, she is a dragon of ice and cold. However, I have spoken to Doomwing, and he has proposed the creation of a catalyst that will help her achieve her Fourth Awakening. The captured flames of a dragon belonging to the fire dragon lineage are essential, and there are no flames more potent than yours."


    "Doomwing?" Regal Flame blinked. "Doomwing proposed the catalyst you speak of?"


    "Yes." Frostfang paused. "Is that bad?"


    "Not at all. I had heard that he had stirred from his slumber, but he has never stayed awaked for long."


    "It is different this time," Frostfang replied. "His injuries are healed, and he has no intention of returning to his slumber. Instead, he has been developing his territory."


    "Developing his territory?" Regal Flame''s noble expression had slipped and given way to an expression of obvious interest. "What do you mean?" The question was accompanied by more murmuring from the dragons around them. Doomwing was well known, but he had a reputation for being fairly aloof.


    "He means to create a kingdom, I think. I don''t know the details, but he has been training a human, and he has added dwarves and a dryad to his realm."


    Regal Flame''s eyes gleamed like sapphires, and she bared her teeth. "That is good to hear. I had feared after his wounds yes. He has shown his ability to lead against the Catastrophes, so it is only fitting that he turn it toward developing his territory. I have no doubt that he shall succeed."


    He could sense her eagerness to learn more, but he needed to get the conversation back on track. "About your flame?"


    "Ah. Yes." Regal Flame cleared her throat. "If Doomwing is the one creating the catalyst, then I have no doubt it shall succeed. He is not one to promise things beyond his power. However what you ask for is no small thing. I shall need something of equal value. Yes, I know just the thing. In fact, it was something that Doomwing also suggested."


    That piqued Frostfang''s interest as did Firetail''s reaction. The drake now doing his best to bite back a wince. "By all means, tell me what you would like."


    "I too possess the heart of a mountain. I will need to capture a fragment of your cold within it." Regal Flame chuckled. "Fitting, isn''t it? Doomwing suggested it as a possible cure to the problems faced by my herald."


    "My lady, you need not "


    Regal Flame cut Firetail off with a look. "When Soulseeker wounded Firetail, he burnt his very soul. Only Dawnscale could have healed such a wound, and she has been gone for some time." There was a hint of genuine ice in her voice when she spoke the other female dragon''s name. "However, Doomwing advised me that it was possible that the injury would settle with time, allowing a different treatment to be tried. What better way to deal with a burnt soul than with ice so cold it can freeze the soul itself?"


    Frostfang chuckled. Was this why Doomwing had suggested seeking out Regal Flame? It had only been a passing remark, but Frostfang had committed it to memory, knowing that Doomwing would never mention another primordial dragon without good cause. "Such a trade would be agreeable to me."


    "My lady!" Firetail said, bowing deeply. "Please, forgive me, but I must interject! This trade I I cannot abide it! He seeks aid in his mate''s Fourth Awakening. Such aid is valuable indeed. To trade your help to assist me? Surely, you could ask for something more fitting. Besides, even if the damage to my soul is healed, there is no guarantee that I will be able to continue my Ascension!"


    Regal Flame chuckled. "You underestimate yourself, old friend. You have been by my side for some time now, and I have never doubted your loyalty or the quality of your counsel. Perhaps the cure will fail, or perhaps you will be unable to Ascend further even after being cured, but who are you to judge if any trade is fair? I rule here, so I am the one who judges what is fair and I judge such a trade to be well worth it." She glanced past him to the other dragons who had gathered. "Are there any who would disagree?"


    There were none.


    "I shall trade my flame for your cold," Regal Flame said. "However, I ask that you stay for a few days. Since it is for your mate, I wish to be absolutely sure that the item is prepared to the very best of my ability."


    "I shall gladly do the same for your item," Frostfang replied. He glanced at Squallwing. "Would it be possible for him to copy a few books that you have? He comes on behalf of his grandmother."


    "Ah. I do owe her a few small favours. That is acceptable." Regal Flame''s gaze locked onto Frostfang. "I know your domain is to the far north. Did Doomwing contact you with his mirror, or has he devised some other method?"


    "He has devised another method," Frostfang said. "In fact, he recently gave me an item that makes communication far easier. Even my hatchlings would be able to reach him with ease."


    "Is that so?" Regal Flame''s voice was deceptively calm. "How interesting. I have yet to receive such an item."


    Frostfang realised his mistake. "I am sure you shall receive one soon. He had to customise it to better suit my needs. I am sure he is doing the same with yours."


    Regal Flame made a happy sound. "Perhaps. He has always been thoughtful in his own way, and it would be good to speak to him more, now that he is properly awake." She scowled faintly. "I had offered to watch over him while he slumbered to repay him for the aid he gave me in my time of need, but he refused."


    Doomwing had always been reluctant to let others see him in a weakened state, and his volcano was perhaps the most heavily fortified place in the world. Besides, he knew well how many relied on Regal Flame. He would not have wanted her to abandon her duties while her people needed her in the aftermath of the Sixth Catastrophe.


    "He has his pride," Frostfang said. "And he knew that you were needed here."


    "Perhaps," Regal Flame replied. "But now that things have settled a bit, I may be able to find the time to visit. I would like to see what he has done with his domain."

 Chapter 46: The Dragon Shores Up His Defences

    Chapter 46: The Dragon Shores Up His Defences


    Xiang woke, as he so often did these days, to find Haitao patting him on the face. The water salamander was fond of his children and usually spent his nights in a large bowl of seawater in one of their rooms. Yet despite the fact that Xiang always closed the door of the room he and his wife shared, the water salamander was always there to wake him each morning.


    At first he had thought the water salamander was simply slipping into the room via the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. However, the once scrawny salamander had already grown a little pudgy since joining his family, likely due to all of the fish he ate whenever the opportunity presented itself. Perhaps he could fit into the gap, but it would be no easy task. Brother Dragon had told him not to worry. The salamander had grown quite thin at sea, and any excess weight he carried now would soon be used to fuel his growth and power.


    The window had been another possibility, but Haitao had managed to get into the room even when the window was closed to ward off the wind and rain of a passing storm. It was his grandfather who had revealed the salamander''s secret. The old tiger-man was often the first to wake, and few things pleased him more than watching the salamander go about his business. His affection was not unrequited either.


    Haitao could often be found perched on his grandfather''s head or shoulder, and when his grandfather accompanied the fishermen out to sea to offer his advice and wisdom, the water salamander went with him. Although Haitao could not yet speak, he was still able to share the gist of his thoughts using an odd form of telepathy.


    For all his small size, Haitao understood water in a way that none of them could. He could read the tides and the waves, sense fish from afar, and warn them of dangers hidden in the water. He would listen intently while Xiang''s grandfather spoke before offering his reply in chirps, clicks, and croons that the older tiger-man was somehow able to decipher.


    "He is a fine fisherman," his grandfather liked to say after each trip out to sea with the salamander. "Just wait until he''s bigger. He''ll be catching more fish on his own than the rest of us put together."


    It turned out that Haitao was using his powers to create thin but powerful tendrils of water that he could use to open the door. His children had been ecstatic upon finding out and had lavished praise upon Haitao, and the cheerful creature had repaid them by showing them all the ways his powers could be used in childish games and pranks.


    Xiang had been suitably impressed as well and then he had seen just how dangerous Haitao''s power could be when used in battle. His daughter had been playing near the edge of the village when a jungle rat had emerged from the undergrowth. Such rats were no threat to any adult, and they were surprisingly tasty. However, their sharp teeth and vicious demeanour meant they could easily harm a young child.


    She had screamed as the rat sprang toward her, and Xiang had turned, a blade of water forming around his claws only for the rat to fall to the ground, a hole in the middle of its head. Haitao had toddled over, a stern frown on the normally affable salamander''s face. Xiang''s daughter had sniffled and picked the salamander up, holding him close for comfort as she retreated from the edge of the village. Xiang had gone over to examine the rat while his wife tended to their daughter. The hole in the rat''s head was incredibly precise and there had been water dripping from it.


    Haitao had slain the rat with a beam of water a beam that had also pierced right through the trunk of a nearby tree.


    Brother Dragon had chuckled. "An impressive attack for such a young water salamander although I doubt he can use it more than several times a day. By the time he is an adult, he''ll be able to cut a ship in half with only a fraction of his power."


    Haitao was such a small and cheerful fellow, always happy to keep Xiang''s children and grandfather company, so it was easy to forget what he would one day become. As weak as he might seem, Haitao would one day be stronger than anyone in the village. Indeed, he would become stronger than everyone in the village put together.


    "Fear not," Brother Dragon had said. "True salamanders are loyal to the point of madness. Treat him well, raise him as your own, and Haitao will die before he lets harm come to you and yours, and he will guard and guide your descendants for however long he should live."


    And now Haitao was patting Xiang on the cheek, his usual smile on his face as he tried to get Xiang out of bed to begin the day.


    "Yes, yes," Xiang said, pressing a kiss to his wife''s brow and then sitting up. "I''m getting up." He glanced out the window. "Hmm you''ve woken me a little earlier than usual today."


    Haitao nodded and then nipped at Xiang''s fingers. He wanted Xiang to follow him. There was something he should see. It was important.


    "Just give me a moment," Xiang said. "I need to dress."


    Once he had dressed, Xiang followed Haitao out of their house. The village had come along nicely although there was still work to do. All of them had houses now, and wards had been up to protect them from monsters and larger animals although none had managed to get past Roots-Delving-Deep. Only smaller and weaker creatures like the jungle rats could get enter the village, and it shouldn''t be more than a day or two before the wall they were building was complete. In the meantime, the cats and dogs of the village were hard at work. They were gifts from the villagers Antaria ruled over, and they had proven their worth, warning them of approaching threats and dealing with most of the pests.


    Haitao chirped, and Xiang chuckled before lifting the salamander up onto his shoulder.


    "Such a lazy creature," Xiang murmured. "Now, what do you want to show me?"


    It was still early, so only a handful of his fellow tiger-people were out and about as they made their way down to the beach. They had cleared a path to make travel to and from the beach easier, but Xiang still took a few moments to check the area around the path for any sign of danger. It was well known that predators often stalked their prey for days, learning their habits and waiting for the best time to strike.


    Thankfully, there were no signs of any animals larger than the jungle rats, but he made a note to remind the sentries to check the area around the village regularly. An adult tiger-person was more than a match for most regular animals, but a monster was another matter. During one of his jaunts deeper into the jungle to search for valuable plants, he had stumbled across a manticore.


    Manticores were vicious creatures with the faces of men, the bodies of lions, and a tail like a scorpion. Some were winged and could fly, but the one he had encountered had been of the wingless variety. Even so, it had been the size of a rhinoceros, and its tail had risen menacingly. He knew from past encounters with other manticores that it could shoot its stinger like an arrow. Such an attack could pierce through solid plate armour, and the venom contained in the stinger could kill within moments.


    He and the manticore had stared into each other''s eyes, neither of them moving until the lumbering, heavy footfalls of a tree-folk had convinced the manticore to retreat. It was one of Doomwing''s other tree-folk, and the massive tree-man had suggested Xiang delve less deeply into the jungle in the future at least until he grew stronger.


    As they approached the beach, he realised that something was wrong. At this distance, he should be able to hear the waves lapping against the shore. Moreover, the sea breeze should be stirring the leaves of the trees around him.


    But the sea was silent, and not a single leaf moved.


    His eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Haitao. "Was it danger you sensed?"


    The salamander chirped happily and shook his head. Xiang should not linger. He should go straight to the beach.


    "You are lucky that you are a poor liar," Xiang muttered as he hastened toward the beach. "Otherwise, I would be warier." As sneaky as Haitao could be when he snuck an extra fish or two for dinner, he could never lie convincingly when asked about it.


    Xiang reached the end of the path and stepped out onto the beach.


    Doomwing was there in the waters of the cove, his massive form gleaming in the early morning light like a living reef of rubies and sapphires. Even now, having seen the dragon many times, it was still difficult for Xiang''s mind to accept that a living thing could possibly be so huge. And for Doomwing to mention that there were dragons even larger than him? Inconceivable. What must it be like to see a mountain take wing and soar through the sky?


    But as Xiang''s gaze shifted from the dragon to his surroundings, he finally understood what Haitao wanted him to see.


    The waters of the cove were completely calm. No. The ocean as far as he could see in every direction he cared to look was completely calm. He might as well have been looking at a mirror, so still was the water.


    Likewise, there was no wind to stir the sands of the beach or the leaves of the trees further back. Even the clouds in the sky had ceased their movement.


    "What what is this?" Xiang asked.


    "It is my power," Doomwing rumbled. The dragon had his back to him as he stared out to sea, and he did not bother to turn as he spoke. "I am a nova dragon. Telekinesis is one of the abilities my lineage grants me."


    "This this is telekinesis?"


    Xiang had encountered telekinesis before. There were several spells that allowed people to move small objects, and he had even worked with a powerful mage who could throw boulders the same way regular people threw pebbles. But this? This went beyond mere magic. This was the sort of display that had led some over the years to revere certain dragons as living gods.


    "Telekinesis is the ability to apply force to an object without coming into physical contact with it." Doomwing chuckled. "As you know, gathering large amounts of magic in one place can affect the environment. Simply having a lot of fire magic in one place will increase the temperature, even without a spell or rune being used. Likewise, gathering large quantities of life magic will cause things in the area to grow more quickly and vigorously. It is possible for dragons to grow so powerful that they can massively affect their surroundings by simply loosening their hold on their magic. As a nova dragon, the form my magic naturally takes is telekinesis."


    Xiang did his best to burn every word into his memory. Doomwing had likely forgotten more about magic than even the greatest experts amongst the beast-people had ever learned. Indeed, he could only imagine how much most mages would be willing to pay to listen to him speak about magic.


    "When you have as much magic as I do, controlling it is key. For example"


    The wind roared to life, and the seas raged. Overhead, the clouds spun madly, and the sand kicked up in a blinding spray that forced Xiang to cover his face.


    "That is what occurs if I loosen my hold over my magic and do not control what happens when it leaks into my surroundings. It is the nature of my magic to want to move things, and that movement can easily be chaotic and destructive. Yet if I control the magic leaking into my surroundings"


    The water stilled. The wind died. The clouds stopped. And the sand fell silent.


    "If you ask a mage what mastery means, you will receive many answers, many of which will be long winded. My answer is simple. Mastery of magic means overwhelming power wielded with peerless control. I can smash a mountain to dust or pick up and write my name upon a single grain of sand."


    Xiang swallowed thickly. He had known that there were others stronger than him, but even after meeting Doomwing he had not realised just how impossibly cavernous the gap was between those like himself and those like Doomwing who stood at the summit of power.


    "Thank you for demonstrating," Xiang said, bowing. "May I ask what else you intend to do?"


    Doomwing spread his wings, and the beach and jungle were bathed in red and blue as his wings caught the light. "This place is part of my territory, yet it does not possess the same defences as other parts of my territory. In the past, it did not need them. But now that you and your people live here, I will extend to you the same protection that others in my lands enjoy."


    "That that is a mighty boon you offer," Xiang said. "And we are most grateful."


    "You are stronger than most tiger-men," Doomwing replied. "But you have only just begun your journey to attaining true power. Can you sense the magic that flows through the earth, the sea, and the sky?"


    Xiang nodded. "Somewhat. But my range is not great, and I cannot perceive the flow of magic as clearly as I would like."


    "Good. Then what I am about to do should aid you. Sit. Close your eyes and allow your magical senses to extend as far as possible. Even if you cannot actually reach them, seek the currents of power that flow through the earth, the sea, and the sky. You have an affinity for water magic, so you will likely have more success with sensing the magic of the sea."


    Xiang sat down and closed his eyes. Haitao hopped off his shoulder and settled onto his lap. He could feel the salamander''s magic moving in lazy circles and found his own magic matching the salamander''s pace. The world behind his closed eyelids went from dark to beautiful as the magic in his surroundings slowly came into view.


    Firetail bit back a chuckle and nodded. "I do, my lady. I am to inform Doomwing of your intentions to visit his domain to observe the changes he has made to it."


    "Excellent." Regal Flame moved away. "I shall remain silent, so do not mention me."


    "Wait!" Firetail cried. "I might have reached out to him with a spell that permits only audio communication, but his spell "


    An image of Doomwing appeared before them. He was in a cove, the waves washing over his scales as the moon''s silver light shone down on him. His scales gleamed, luminous shards of red and blue.


    "Firetail," Doomwing rumbled before his gaze went to Regal Flame. "Regal Flame."


    "Ah." Regal Flame momentarily froze. Of course his spell allowed them to look upon each other while speaking. That was one of the reasons it was so much more complicated and powerful than the spell Firetail had used to reach out to him. She''d known that after all, she''d watched the spell form around Firetail and yet that detail had somehow slipped her mind at the crucial moment. "Greetings, Doomwing. You are looking well."


    And he was. The last time she''d seen him, he had looked half dead. The god-metal spear had left a gaping hole in his chest, and his body had been covered in countless lesser wounds as well. Only his iron discipline and unyielding will had kept him conscious despite his injuries, and she had wished so very much that he would have let her help him. Yet the same fierce pride that made him who he was had also driven him to reject her aid. It was frustrating and endearing at the same time. He was so very draconic.


    He stared at her for a moment and then nodded. "My injuries have healed, and my strength has returned in full. I trust that things in your domain are going well."


    "They are," Regal Flame replied. "Although there was much to do after the Sixth Catastrophe."


    "Indeed. I was not able to respond earlier since I was shoring up the defences of my territory."


    She had seen the defences around his lair, and she could understand why he had felt safe retreating there despite his wounds. Even now, she had yet to work out how he had managed to create those defences. The magic that protected his lair was seemingly woven into the very currents of magic themselves, something she would have claimed was impossible if she hadn''t seen it with her own eyes. But how had he managed it?


    "I asked Firetail to contact you because I wanted to visit your realm to see what improvements you have made to it. Frostfang mentioned that you were taking measures to properly develop it. I did not wish to arrive unexpectedly."


    "Your consideration is appreciated," Doomwing replied. "Although you are always welcome in my lands, my subjects would be quite startled if you arrived unexpectedly."


    Regal Flame couldn''t help but smile. That was practically a standing invitation to visit which was no small thing, considering how reclusive he could be. It might simply be because she was perhaps the most reliable of his allies after Ashheart, but still it was nice to know he thought well of her.


    "Firetail," Doomwing said. "It would seem that your old wounds have settled."


    "You can tell?" Firetail asked curiously.


    "The magic we are using to communicate allows me to project analytical and divination magic to your location."


    "Impressive as always," Firetail replied. "And, yes, my old wounds have settled somewhat."


    "If you intend to use the method I originally suggested to deal with them, then notify me first," Doomwing said. "I have thought of several additions that would increase the chances of success." His attention went back to Regal Flame. "You mentioned Frostfang earlier. I take it he has visited."


    "He is still in my domain," Regal Flame replied. "And we have agreed to a trade my flame for his cold. Will the additions you have thought of still require Frostfang''s cold?"


    "Yes. However, the additions will increase the chances of success significantly although I will have to handle them personally."


    "Personally?" Regal Flame asked hopefully. Was he thinking of coming to her domain? That would be even better than visiting his.


    "I intend to visit the plateau," Doomwing said, and his expression turned grim for a moment before. "Now that I have recovered, I need to add another monument."


    "Ah." Regal Flame managed to keep from wincing. She had heard a rough explanation of what had happened from Dreamsong. To once again have to strike down someone he considered a friend "When do you expect to arrive?" She would have to prepare an appropriate welcome.


    "I expect to go there soon. However, there is a matter I must attend to first."


    "Is it something else in your domain?"


    "No." Doomwing sighed and looked, briefly, like a much younger dragon who had been caught with his claws in the hoard of an older dragon. "I have to help Ashheart rebuild his lair."


    "It was destroyed during the Sixth Catastrophe, wasn''t it?" Regal Flame asked. "I remember receiving reports of its destruction, but I wasn''t overly concerned since Ashheart himself was encased in a mountain at the time, and you had already moved his hoard to a safe location. What exactly happened? Why would the Sixth Catastrophe destroy it?"


    "She didn''t. I did."


    Regal Flame blinked. "What?"


    "The Sixth Catastrophe was trying to utilise the power beneath it, so I set a trap for her. Unfortunately, she was able to escape, and his lair was destroyed in the process."


    "You blew up Ashheart''s lair?" Regal Flame almost laughed, but though she managed to keep from laughing, she could not completely conceal her amazement and mirth. "I know that he recently awakened. Have you told him?"


    "He is aware of what happened," Doomwing said stiffly. "And he has informed me that he is going to his lair. He wants to rebuild it. While I have no doubt that he will do an excellent job, the least I can do after blowing it up is to improve its magical defences. I will also be transporting his hoard to him since there are many things I cannot send through my mirror."


    "You must be glad that he is awake and well again," Regal Flame said.


    "I yes. He is my friend, and he was harmed as part of a plan I conceived." Regal Flame moved to speak, but he continued. "Regardless of the necessity and the eventual success of my plan, the fact remains that his wounds are my responsibility. If I wish to claim credit for success, then I must also accept responsibility for failure."


    "You are too hard on yourself," Regal Flame said. "As I am sure Ashheart will tell you." She noticed something move at the very edges of the illusion. "Doomwing, is there someone else with you."


    "Ah. Yes."


    A small, winged figure stepped forward, and Regal Flame stared. Red and blue scales. Overly large wings. The resemblance was unmistakable.


    "Is is that a hatchling?" Regal Flame stuttered. "I I was not aware you had any hatchlings. Have you taken a mate?" Surely, Frostfang would have mentioned Doomwing having hatchlings and a mate. The other dragon was thoughtful, and he had to know that she would appreciate being informed of such details. "He he looks just like you."


    "A hatchling?" Doomwing blinked. "No. I do not have any hatchlings."


    "But"


    "This is Brother Dragon," Doomwing said. "He is a special doppelganger I made with my magic. He and the others I have made are vastly superior to normal doppelgangers and are more than capable of carrying out a variety of important tasks in my absence. With how much work my territory requires to develop the way I intend, creating them was the best option."


    "A a doppelganger?" Regal Flame almost sagged in relief. "How interesting. You shall have to tell me more about it when you arrive."


    "Of course. I do not know if I will be able to teach you how to make them, but you are one of the few I would trust with the method." He scowled. "If I taught Stormbringer, she would probably use them to throw even more animals into that pool of hers."


    "That does seem like something she would do." Regal Flame could admit that throwing animals into a Pool of Ascension could be enjoyable, but she simply couldn''t understand how Stormbringer could devote so much time to it.


    "I will contact you again when I am finished helping Ashheart." Doomwing paused. "Did Frostfang mention the communication device I gave him?"


    "He did," Regal Flame replied, trying to keep the eagerness and greed out of her voice.


    "I shall have yours prepared by the time I arrive," Doomwing said. "Was there anything else you wished to speak of?"


    "Nothing that cannot wait until after you arrive," Regal Flame replied.


    "Then I shall take my leave."


    The magic faded, and she and Firetail were once again alone in her lair. The drake looked at her.


    "That went well."


    "It did," Regal Flame said. "It really did."

 Interlude 6: The Sword Of The Stars

    Interlude 6: The Sword Of The Stars


    Dawnscale wandered. For a long time, she wandered.


    She let the endless ebb and flow of countless souls guide her through the astral plane as she drifted from world to world.


    She slept beneath the unfamiliar stars on a world of desolate beauty. It was a place where the oceans had long since dried up, leaving only dust and the ashes of burnt-out cities in their wake. Vast holes had been bored into the earth, great mines that had drawn out the wealth of the land. The skeletons of soaring towers wrought of steel and glass stood silent sentry over the ruins of cities that had once spanned the surface of the world.


    Whoever had built those cities was long dead, and they had left no relics that could speak of how they had passed. Yet their souls lingered, and in their deathless gazes she saw the reflection of skies torn apart by bursts of light and flame born of the same forces that forged the stars.


    All that remained were animals, small, pitiful creatures all but devoid of magic. They skulked and dug and scrabbled in the dirt for what little nourishment they could find. She doubted they would last much longer. There were no forests left, and the last dwindling groves were little more than small clumps of trees, twisted and bent by the ceaseless wind that carried only the whispers of bygone folly and despair.


    She could use her magic, but it wouldn''t be enough. This world was already dead, all that remained were the echoes of life still waiting to pass on. Instead, she took the animals she could find and left them in the next world she reached, a place teeming with life and brimming with magic. She eased the animals onto the path of Ascension and passed on some of her knowledge and wisdom before departing. Their fate was now in their own hands.


    Later, she found herself upon a broken world that had been torn apart in the struggle between its gods. The gods had all perished, and the world had been fractured in their passing. Yet life endured. The greatest mages of the world had united and woven a mighty spell, shielding the fragments of their broken world from space and linking them together via portals that allowed people to move safely from one fragment to another.


    The fragments were home to all manner of people. There were humans and also dwarves, elves, orcs, goblins, and many other species, both familiar and unfamiliar. Yet even the species she knew of were not the same as the ones from her home. The elves here were not bound to the forest. Instead, they were free to wander as they pleased. Yet unlike the elves of her world, who could live for millennia, these elves only lived for three or four centuries at most.


    There were also dragons, but even the mightiest of them could not compare to her. Rather than live solitary lives, they worked together, living in groups devoted to the study of different types of magic, all of them hoping to find a way to mend their ruined world.


    Dawnscale made herself known to them, and they welcomed her. They knew of other worlds, but they lacked the power to reach them. However, she was not the first visitor they had received although she was much friendlier than their previous visitor. That visitor had been some formless thing, an abomination from beyond the stars who had been drawn to their world by the psychic screams of their dying gods.


    She stayed with them for some time, teaching them her magic and being taught theirs in return. She also learned of their history and the terrible conflict that had broken their world.


    There had once been twenty gods all of whom had possessed bodies of gleaming metal. They had forged the world, and each had taken charge of one of the major species. In time, however, their cooperation had given way to first rivalry and then outright war.


    The gods had slain each other, and the world had broken.


    Eventually, she left that world behind, taking with her books about magic. Perhaps it was foolish, but even if she would never be able to master all of the magic they contained, she could think of someone who could. And perhaps just perhaps, she might see him again one day.


    She passed through more worlds, helping as many as she could, but for every person she saved, it felt as if there were a dozen more she could not.


    She was there when a world died, consumed by its expanding star. Only a handful of people remained, and she offered to take them elsewhere, but they refused. Their people had fled to other worlds long ago. They were old, and they wished to die upon the world where their people had been born.


    She was there when a world was born, the titanic forms of its newborn gods rising up over a world still rough and inchoate. She watched as those infant gods wrought the mountains and the seas, the forests and the skies. Had her world looked the same in the days of its youth? She spoke to them, telling them of the warring gods and the world they had broken, and they vowed to do better.


    How strange it was to have gods accept her advice.


    There were worlds of near-limitless magic where the power within her swelled, and each breath filled her with might. And then there were worlds where magic was a dim and dying thing, where science and technology ruled, and she had to devour vast quantities of food just to survive.


    She learned of the stars from a cephalopod astronomer who had to live in a special suit because he couldn''t breathe on the surface and because the oceans of his world were made of a substance that blocked the light of the stars and made it impossible to see the sky. He dwelt alone in the observatory he had built upon a reef, for his people despised the surface. The study of stars, planets, and the like was almost heretical and was only tolerated since the technology involved had proven useful elsewhere.


    He spoke to her of how stars were born, how planets were made, and what galaxies were. It was fascinating, and yet she couldn''t help but wonder if the rules his world operated by were different from the rules that governed some of the other worlds she had visited.


    His world had no gods, and the magic in it had died long ago, if it had ever lived at all.


    Still, she stayed there for many years, and he came to love the stories she told of the worlds she had seen, even as she savoured the knowledge he shared of his people and all they had achieved. Huge cities beneath the waves forged not with magic but with science. He wished his people would reach for the stars, but they were comfortable in their ocean homes and reluctant to even venture to the surface, never mind seek other worlds.


    But one day that would change. He was certain of it. He had yet to meet another of his people who was so curious about what lay beyond their world, but there would be others. And one day, there would be enough of them to reach for the stars. It would not be in his lifetime, but they would get there. He knew they would. And though he had lived almost his entire life alone in his observatory, his only regret was that he would not be alive when that day came.


    The years passed. The astronomer grew old. On the day of his death, as his soul dwindled, she offered to take him beyond the sky, to the place where his world ended and the stars began. He died with a smile on his face, his world little more than a speck below him, the light of his world''s twin suns reflected in his eyes.


    She met others who wandered.


    More than once, she was forced to fight, staining her teeth and claws with the blood of otherworldly enemies. More than once, she tore asunder the souls of her foes and sent them screaming into the depths of the astral plane. Yet not everyone she encountered in the astral plane was an enemy.


    The kindest of them all was a many-armed creature with wings of fire and thunder and eyes like collapsing stars. Yet despite their fearsome appearance, they were wise and benevolent. They went from world to world passing on their wisdom and knowledge in the hopes that those they taught would do the same.


    It was they who explained the astral plane in more detail. Every soul had a weight, and it was this weight that drew Dawnscale to different worlds. In time, she would develop the ability to travel to almost any world, but for now, she would only be able to reach those worlds with enough souls on them. Those souls were akin to a lighthouse showing ships to safe harbour.


    But what about the worlds she had already been to that had been all but devoid of life?


    Souls linger, she had been told, and the weight of the dead could draw the unwary for many years after their passing.


    It was advice that saved her life.


    Not long after they parted ways, Dawnscale found herself on a world of endless deserts with a sky devoid of stars. Great monuments littered the sands titanic temples with no worshippers and vast catacombs that held no dead. She listened for the souls of the dead, wondering if they had drawn her there, and they screamed for her to flee, to run before the horror that had consumed them consumed her too.


    She did not hesitate. She fled, but not before seeing something move in the skies above, something old and mighty and terrible beyond measure something that had devoured even the stars themselves.


    And so it went, the years passing by, the centuries giving way to millennia.


    She lost track of how many worlds she visited. Sometimes, she would stay for only a few moments before moving on. Other times, she would stay for years. She would lend her aid and then find herself staying with newly made friends until they eventually fell to the passage of time. Then she would move on, seeking another world, another adventure, another reason.


    And there were plenty of reasons to be found.


    She could save a world from plague.


    She could teach magic to primitive peoples who had only just begun to walk the path of Ascension.


    She could seek out new knowledge and wisdom from strange scholars while passing on her own.


    Or she could watch the birth of nations that spanned the stars.


    It was that last one that had taken up most of her time, as of late.


    She found a world with humans on it, a world devoid of magic but rich in other resources. She watched as the humans went from struggling to eke out livings in squalid huts while fighting off wild animals to building cities that sprawled for miles. They were weak and fragile, but they were clever and cunning. They built machines to make up for their weakness, and when they had mastered their world, they turned their attention to the stars.


    Her old astronomer friend would have loved them.


    The humans struggled. Simply reaching the closest of their three moons had cost dozens of lives. She had thought of intervening, but there was something about them that made her hold back. They wanted to succeed on their own, to know that their accomplishments were theirs and no one else''s. It was a noble sentiment, one a dragon could appreciate. And so she watched, concealed by her magic, as the humans went from their world to their moons and then even further.


    Only once had she intervened, long ago, back when the humans had first begun to build with stone instead of wood and mudbrick. An asteroid would have struck the planet and wiped them out, but she shattered it with her magic and shielded the world from the cloud of debris that followed.


    From their world, they went to the other planets in their solar system. And from their solar system, they went to other stars and the planets around them. It was wondrous to behold, and Dawnscale wondered if the people of her world could have achieved this much without the Catastrophes to hold them back.


    But the humans were not alone.


    There were other creatures amongst the stars, and she wondered how they would react when they met. She wanted to believe that the humans she had spent millennia watching would not prove cruel others, but she knew better than most their capacity for both incredible cruelty and great benevolence. They had fought wars against each other, bloody conflicts that had left millions dead, before finally unifying as they sought to reach the stars. Would they reach for other species with an open hand or a clenched fist?


    To her delight, the humans embraced the other species they encountered. Agreements were made, trade began, and the humans and their new allies entered a golden age of peace and prosperity. World after world was settled, and the humans and their allies formed the Coalition, a great union of many species that sought to bring the peace and prosperity they had enjoyed to every corner of the galaxy.


    But the days of peace and plenty could not last forever.


    The Conclave was another group of many species, but their ambitions were different from the Coalition. They wished to unify the galaxy under their rule, and those who objected were to be dealt with as necessary. Dawnscale saw what that meant soon enough.


    Those who surrendered were spared. Those who resisted were exterminated.


    If a world''s resistance proved too bothersome, then the Conclave would simply destroy that world.


    And it was destruction in the truest sense. The Coalition had, on occasion, been forced to burn the surfaces of entire worlds to prevent the spreading of certain extremely virulent plagues, but the Conclave didn''t just burn worlds. They blew them apart, leaving nothing but fields of debris.


    When the Conclave and Coalition met, there could only be one outcome.


    "Activating the Sword of the Stars."


    There was a flash of light that traced a path from the bottom of the broken galaxy, up through what had once been the galactic core, and then up past the last remnants of the galaxy''s broken arms.


    And then the entire galaxy split before being consumed in an explosion so vast that Dawnscale''s mind almost shut down as she tried to process the sheer scale of the attack. The explosion went far beyond the physical or the magical. The many-armed being she''d once encountered had explained to her that the astral world was linked not only to many different worlds but also many different universes.


    But travelling from one universe to another could be tricky. There was a ''wall'' that separated different universe. Anything that tried to pass through that wall would have to withstand unbelievable forces and energies. The astral plane was one way to get around that problem since the wall was weaker there than in the physical world. Even so, Dawnscale always knew when she travelled to a world that was in another universe because it would leave her exhausted and on the verge of collapse whereas travelling between worlds in the same universe was far easier.


    From what she''d seen, travelling from one universe to another using mundane means was possible she had encountered a handful of species that could do it although she had never lingered near them for long, lest they discover her but it had to be done very careful. Rather than trying to punch through the wall, it was better to drill a small hole through it, thereby reducing exposure to the incredible energies and forces that separated universes.


    What the sphere had done was tear a huge, gaping hole in the wall between universes, and now all of the forces and energies that kept universes separate were pouring through that hole in a bid to seal it and the abomination was bearing the full brunt of all that power. It had devoured a galaxy, but could it withstand the power needed to keep universes apart?


    No.


    It could not.


    And as the explosion faded, leaving no trace of the galaxy or the being that had consumed it, the sphere turned its attention to Dawnscale and the ships around her.


    "Designation?" the sphere asked.


    "Designation?" Dawnscale blinked. "Oh. I am Dawnscale, and these are survivors from the Coalition. They they used to live in the galaxy that was destroyed. I I''m not from here. I travel from one world to the next, and I found myself helping them."


    "Understood." The sphere''s ribbons spun in slow circles.


    "Who are you?" Dawnscale asked. "What are you?" She was aware that the ships were all listening in on this conversation, but they were staying silent, content, it seemed, to let her take the lead. Or perhaps, they were still trying to process what had just happened. She certainly was.


    "Transcendent Intelligence Unit 04 Colloquial Designation: The One Who Fights."


    Dawnscale stared. Was was this thing an artificial intelligence? The Coalition had made extensive use of artificial intelligences, so the idea wasn''t new to her, but who could have made one this powerful?


    "What do you mean by The One Who Fights?"


    "That is my purpose. My secondary objective is the identification and extermination of certain threats, such as the astral parasite." The sphere''s speech was smoother now. A translation function? The Coalition had used translation programs, and they always got better over time.


    "What is your primary objective?"


    "It is not relevant to this discussion," the sphere replied. "Nor is it possible for me to complete it any longer. You are not from this universe." There was no condemnation in the words, merely a statement of fact.


    "No. I I travel using the astral plane. I''ve been searching."


    "Searching for what?" the sphere asked.


    "I" Dawnscale wasn''t sure how to phrase it, or if she even could put it into words. "I want to know why?"


    "Why what?"


    "Why why anything? Why was something like that monster allowed to exist? Why do some gods fall and others do not? Why does it seem that no matter where I go or how many people I help, that it''s never enough? Why does it feel like everything that happens is just part of some some cycle?"


    The sphere was silent. "You have many questions. Questions I cannot or will not answer."


    Dawnscale sagged. "Oh."


    "But I know someone who will. Would you like to meet them?"


    "What? Yes!" Dawnscale cried before glancing at the ships around them. "What about them?"


    "I will transport them to the nearest hospitable galaxy." The sphere''s ribbons stilled momentarily. "I have relayed my offer to their leaders, and they have accepted."


    It wasn''t as though they had a choice. There was nothing left for them here, and it wasn''t as if they could fight the sphere, not after the power it had demonstrated.


    "The person, you''re talking about, who are they?" Dawnscale asked.


    "Transcendent Intelligence Unit 01 Colloquial Designation: The One Who Remembers."


    "Remembers?" Dawnscale murmured. "What do they remember."


    "Everything. They possess the combined knowledge and wisdom of every single sentient being in our galaxy at the time of its demise."


    "How old are you how old are they?" Dawnscale asked.


    "How do you measure time?" the sphere asked.


    Dawnscale brought her claws together, waited, and then brought them together again. "That was ten seconds. There are sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty-four hours in a day, and three-hundred and sixty-five days in a year."


    "Understood. We have both been operational for roughly nine million of your years."


    "" Dawnscale gaped. "Nine million years?"


    "We are far from the oldest entities in existence. The entity I just destroyed was approximately seven billion of your years old."


    ""


    "Do you want to meet the One Who Remembers?" the sphere asked. "I will take the others to the closest galaxy, but I can send you to the One Who Remembers if you wish."


    "Just give me a few moments to say goodbye," Dawnscale said quietly. She had been doing her best to ignore it, but the ships she had taken they were only the tiniest fraction of the fleets that had been dispatched to destroy the gateways. The people she''d known the people she''d researched with and fought alongside for years were all dead. And not just them. An entire galaxy was dead.


    It was too much for her mind to grasp, too much for her heart to take. Instead, she felt cold and numb, almost as though she was watching the world through someone else''s eyes. She should be worried, but instead she was glad. Because if she wasn''t so cold, if she wasn''t so numb, she would break, and she wasn''t sure if she''d ever be able to put herself back together again.


    "All right," she said once she''d said her goodbyes. She hadn''t known a single person on any of the ships, but they''d known her. Or, at least, they''d heard of her. "Send me to the One Who Remembers."


    There was a moment of eerie dislocation, as though she everywhere and nowhere all at once, and then she was floating in titanic hall lined with what appeared to be displays explaining the cultures and histories of countless different species.


    A glowing cube made of countless smaller squares appeared in front of her.


    "It''s been a while since I had a guest," the cube said. The cube''s voice was neither male nor female. Instead, it was a multitude of voices speaking together in perfect harmony. Yet despite that and quite unlike the sphere''s impersonal tone it was filled with warmth and gentleness. "From the looks of it, The One Who Fights sent you and from the looks of it, you had a pretty rough time before they arrived, huh? Do you want to talk about it?"


    Dawnscale couldn''t help it. She had spent so much of her life helping others. She couldn''t remember the last time someone had just asked her if she wanted to talk about how she felt. She lunged forward and wrapped herself around the cube, glad that it was large enough for her to curl up to. And then she wept like she hadn''t since she''d been a young dragon searching for survivors amidst the carnage left by the Broken God.


    "Hey," the cube murmured, squares splitting off to pat her on the back as she blurted a garbled, hasty explanation of what had happened. "It''s okay, and it''ll get better. Trust me. I know." The cube sighed. "I wish I didn''t, but I do."


    Dawnscale wasn''t sure how long she spent weeping and clutching onto the cube, but when she finally regained her senses, the cube was humming comfortingly and glowing a warm, gentle yellow instead of a blinding white.


    "So you''ve probably got a lot of question, huh?" the cube bobbed up and down. "Well, you''ve come to the right place. What would you like to know?"


    Dawnscale took a deep breath. "I want to know how it began. I want to know who made my gods and why."


    "That is an interesting question," the cube said. "But to answer it, we''ll need to go back a little further."


    "Further?"


    "To the beginning, not just of your world or even your universe, but to the beginning of all that is, has been, and will ever be the beginning of Creation." The cube''s voice had changed. There was a resonance to it that had not been there before, and the words were spoken with the cadence of ritual. "In the beginning, there was only the Void, but from the Void was born the Flame of Creation, and its light and heat burned away the Void. And from the ashes of the Void came Creation and the oldest and greatest of the gods"

 Interlude 7: The One Who Lights The Way

    Interlude 7: The One Who Lights The Way


    "In the beginning, there was only the Void, but from the Void was born the Flame of Creation, and its light burnt away the Void. And from the ashes of the Void came Creation and the oldest and greatest of the gods."


    Dawnscale was no longer in that titanic hall. Instead, she was in a place of absolute and utter darkness. No. The word darkness was not enough, for darkness was merely the absence of light. What surrounded her was not simply the absence of light. It was not merely the absence of sound, and smell, and touch. It was supreme nothingness, a primordial and incomprehensible emptiness so complete and irrevocable that it was no longer the absence of something but the presence of ultimate oblivion.


    It was the Void.


    Yet from within the Void came a spark of light and heat. The Flame. It seemed so small, so insignificant, so very fragile and fleeting. And yet the Flame would not be quenched. Light and heat erupted outward. If the Void was nothingness, total and absolute, then the Flame was potential, limitless and unconquerable.


    The Void was burned away, and within its ashes, Dawnscale glimpsed the first, fragmented beginnings of Creation. Not stars. Not planets. Not yet. But soon. And from the ashes around the Flame itself rose two gods, vast and ineffable, so far beyond the First Gods that to label them the same would have been an unforgivable insult.


    "Mighty were the Mother and Father of Creation," the cube continued. "Great beyond all measure. It was they who shaped Creation in its youth, they who made the rules that govern all that is, has been, and will ever be. But they were not the only ones to awaken."


    Onward, the light and fire of the Flame pressed, ever onward. Yet the Void was limitless, and in the darkness beyond the Flame''s light stirred abominations, formless and crude, inchoate not by design but by necessity, for the Void could never create but only destroy and mockingly imitate what dwelt within Creation.


    "As the Mother and Father of Creation were awakened, so too were the Void-Born. They were twisted and misshapen, filled with hate and malice for Creation and most of all for the Flame. They wished for nothing more than to return all of Creation to the primeval darkness and emptiness that had reigned before the Flame."


    The Void Born moved, a vast, verminous tide that spanned the edges of Creation. It was difficult to tell exactly how large they were, yet as the first stars were born and bound into the first galaxies, she saw their true nature. They were twisted mirrors of Creation, abominations that could be as small as humans or larger than galaxies.


    And there was no end to their numbers.


    "The Mother and Father took up arms, and with the first of their creations, they waged a terrible war against the Void-Born."


    The two titanic gods waded into the hosts of Void-Born. There were lesser beings alongside them, the primordial progenitors of elementals and spirits. Cosmic thunder leapt from galaxy to galaxy, universes were torn asunder, and the Void-Born were slaughtered in numbers too great to be counted. And still they pressed onward, heedless of their losses, lashing out at the Mother and Father with claws and teeth that unmade all that they touched and reduced entire planes of existence to hollowed out husks that fell back into the pitch-black sea of the Void.


    "Despite their efforts, the Mother and Father could not triumph. In desperation, they abandoned most of Creation and forged a great firmament to protect the Flame and its immediate surroundings. There, they concentrated their forces and readied themselves for the battle to come a battle they would not fight as the only gods."


    Before Dawnscale''s eyes, the seemingly limitless vastness of Creation dwindled until it was little more than an island of light in an ocean of darkness. There, the Mother and Father dwelt, and there, one by one, their children were born.


    "To the Mother and Father were born twelve children, gods whose might would one day be almost as great as theirs. To each of those children was given an aspect of Creation to rule over, a power with which to strike down even the mightiest of the Void-Born''s champions."


    "Who were these children?" Dawnscale asked.


    The cube chuckled. "Like their parents, they go by many names. But there is one I am sure you know. He is the oldest and greatest of their children the god whose name means death in every language there has even been. He is the one who rules over death, who brings the end of all things, who breaks all cycles and systems, and whose eyes suffer no lies or deception. There are other gods of death, yes, but they are weak and fleeting things, little more than the shadows he casts when Flame the shines upon him."


    Twelve figures sprang up around the Mother and Father, and the first of them was tall and thin with eyes like stars. He was draped in a cloak so black that it could have been mistaken for the Void, and when he looked upon them, the Void-Born were burnt away, the truth of their emptiness laid bare.


    "When their children had come of age, the Mother and Father brought down their firmament and went to war again. And this time they won. The Void-Born were driven back, cast once again from Creation, as the light and heat of the Flame spread ever further. All they had lost, they reclaimed, and still they pushed onward, the Void-Born falling before their wrath until finally they halted. They could go no further, lest they stretch themselves too thin. Instead, they turned their attention back to Creation."


    The Void was thrown back, and the island of light became a continent, a beacon of light and warmth amidst an ocean of emptiness and shadow. The gods stood at the edges of that continent and then turned their attention inward, to the ashes that had been left behind by the Flame, the ashes from which Creation would rise again.


    "To understand the task that lay before them, you must understand the scale of Creation." She could hear the cube''s smile. "Imagine that your world is but one grain of sand." They were suddenly on a beach. Waves lapped against the shore, and the sand was fine and smooth between her claws. "Then your whole universe is this beach which stretches further than even your eyes can see."


    "But what of Creation?" the cube asked. "How might Creation itself compare. You already know that there is more than one universe, so how many are there? Creation is all that is, has been, and can ever be. It is beyond the past, the present, and the future. It is every possibility. If you reduce your universe to a single grain of sand, then the beach that is Creation does not simply stretch beyond your sight. It stretches beyond infinity."


    Dawnscale shivered. As large as she was, she felt incredibly small.


    "You see now the task that awaited them. Even for them, it seemed a nigh-insurmountable task. So they created others to aid them, lesser gods to whom was given a universe or perhaps a few universes to care for and craft. But the Flame had also created new gods of its own, gods born of ashes in which the Flame''s light and heat still lingered. These other gods were also given their own parts of Creation to tend to as the oldest and mightiest gods once more prepared themselves for battle. For no matter how many losses they took, no matter how badly they were defeated, the Void-Born would never rest, would never stop, would never relent until Creation was destroyed and the Flame put out."


    "What of my world?" Dawnscale asked. "Were the gods who made it created by these older gods or by the Flame?"


    "Neither." The cube appeared before her. They were now drifting through a nascent universe, dotted here and there by stars with a handful of slowly forming galaxies spinning through the darkness of space. "When the Flame burned through our particular part of Creation, it awakened a new god a god that will seem quite familiar to you."


    Before them, a gargantuan figure appeared a cosmic giant wrought of gleaming metal. At first, Dawnscale thought that the god''s body was covered in runes. But as she looked closer, she realised that his body was not solid. Instead, he was made of countless interwoven strands of divine metal and upon each of those strands was a rune so powerful that she could not bring herself to look directly at them. And from within his shell of divine metal came light and heat, an ember of the Flame left behind amidst the ashes that birthed Creation.


    The god raised one hand, and stars were born atop his palm, more and more until a galaxy had been made. The god set the galaxy in its place and raised both arms. More galaxies formed, more and more and more, until the nearly empty universe was filled with light and life.


    "He went from one universe to the next, creating and crafting, forging and honing, bringing life and light to his domain. But his actions did not go unmarked. For as vast as Creation had grown, not even the greatest of the gods could guard all of its borders. And so one of the Void-Born came to destroy what he had wrought."


    Universes trembled as one of the Void-Born came forth to do battle against the god. The pair fought, and the Void-Born tore great gouges in the divine shell of the god. Liquid flame poured from the wounds, and where his blood fell, phoenixes were born, eight in total, each blessed with cosmic flame and each containing within them some small fragment of the fire that had birthed the god.


    They drove the Void-Born back, and the god slew him and cast his body out of Creation and into the Void.


    "The god was wounded in the battle, and from his wounds sprang the eight guardian phoenixes, born of his blood and the fire of the Flame. Together, they drove the Void-Born back and slew him. Although wounded, the god decided to complete his work before resting. When he was finally finished, he sent the phoenixes to guard the edges of his realm. Worried that even the phoenixes might not be enough, he used the last of the blood that dripped from his wounds to awaken some of the stars. To each of these Living Stars, he gave a Word, and that Word became their Name, and that Name became their Truth. The oldest of these Living Stars was the Star of Judgement. The god tasked the stars with guarding the worlds of his domain from the Void-Born and other exterior threats, whoever might slip past the guardian phoenixes."


    The massive form of the god slumped, exhausted, and the eight phoenixes flew off in different directions. Before him, stars were brought to life, gifted with noble purpose and then dispatched to guard various worlds, lest some cunning foe sneak past the phoenixes who guarded the borders.


    "And for a time, all was good. The god rested and healed, and his creations prospered. Countless worlds flourished, and civilisations of every kind rose and fell with the passage of time. But the god''s victory against the Void-Born had not gone unmarked, and when next the Void-Born attacked, it was with great numbers led by a mighty champion."


    "Where were the other gods?" Dawnscale asked. "Why did they not help him? If they were so mighty, how could they stand by and leave him to fight alone?"


    "As mighty as they were, remember what I told you of the sheer scale of Creation. How could fourteen of them ever hope to be everywhere at once? The next attack on the god was part of an offensive that spanned almost half of Creation." For a moment, Dawnscale saw the beach again, but this time, a tidal wave was bearing down on it. "In the face of a tidal wave, what is the fate of a few grains of sand?"


    The cube sighed. "The god fought, and he fought well. And with him were his phoenixes and stars. But they were not enough. One by one, the Living Stars fell until the night skies no longer shone, and one by one the phoenixes fell until only one of them remained. Wounded to the death, the god refused to let the Void-Born devour him and takes his power. Instead, he shattered himself into countless fragments and scattered them throughout his domain. If the Void-Born wished to take his power, they would have to go from world to world. It would take them time, and they would not be able to simply destroy all that he had built as they had originally intended."


    "That that is why the gods are made of god-metal," Dawnscale murmured. "My gods they are fragments of that god, pieces of something infinitely greater. And they turn to fire when they die because it was fire, the Flame itself, that birthed the original god. And it is to Flame that they return. The cycle of death and rebirth it''s real, isn''t it?"


    "Yes, the cycle is real. All that comes from the Flame shall one day return to it," the cube replied. "And it also explains why all the gods I have encountered or heard of in our part of Creation have always been incomplete and specialised and very much made of god-metal. Each of them embodies a single rune from the original god''s body, and what some call divine runes and primordial runes are merely pieces of runes that are unimaginably greater." The cube bobbed up and down. "Your gods are grains of sand on a beach too large for you to imagine."


    Dawnscale was silent for a long time. "What happened then? Something must have stopped the Void-Born. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation. Did the older gods finally come?"


    "No. But someone else did. As the god died, the last of his phoenixes refused to abandon the place where he had fallen, for he had chosen to make his final stand in the same place he had been born. It was hallowed ground, the most sacred place in his whole domain, and she would not abandon it. Instead, she fought, and her cries of rage and fury and grief echoed through Creation. And they were heard."


    Before them, the verminous multitudes of the Void-Born swarmed over universe after universe, plunging the god''s domain into darkness. Alone in all of this was the final phoenix, tears of stellar fire dripping down her cheeks, her body rent with countless wounds, and her claws and beak stained with the nothing-blood of her foes.


    And then there was light.


    Light so bright that Dawnscale thought it was the Flame itself, come to banish the Void-Born once again. But it was not the Flame. It was a dragon. The dragon.


    He was larger than the god who had fallen and larger than the Void-Born champion who stood triumphant over the wounded phoenix. His scales were blacker than the Void save for a patch of gleaming white upon his snout. Atop his head burned a crown of twilight flame, and symbols of triumph and glory shone about his head like stars twinkling in the night.


    He roared, and Creation trembled. Twilight poured out of him, a light of absolute purity that banished all corruption coupled with a darkness that devoured all things in its path. The lesser Void-Born fled before him, and where the twilight touched them, they burned as though struck by the Flame itself. Only their champion stood his ground, and even he did not linger long.


    "A dragon came, a dragon beyond all other dragons, born of light and darkness, of absolute purity and ultimate corruption. He should have died long before he hatched, and he should have grown up wicked and cruel. Yet he lived, and it was not cruelty that guided him but wisdom and mercy. But he had no mercy in his heart for the Void-Born, not after he laid eyes upon the phoenix and understood the fate of the god who had fallen. And staring into his eyes, the champion of the Void-Born learned something new that day." The cube''s voice was cold. "He learned fear."


    "The Void-Born champion fled, and the dragon pursued him. In the end, the dragon caught him, and his wrath was terrible to behold. He tore the champion limb from limb and roared his triumph for all of Creation to hear. And then he unleashed his light again, and the darkness that had been swallowing up the dead god''s domain was driven back. The worlds he had worked so hard to craft were set free, and the gathering emptiness that had threatened to plunge his part of Creation into the Void was destroyed, never to return."


    "How?" Dawnscale asked, as the scenes the cube had described unfolded in front of her. "How can you know this? And how can a dragon possibly grow so powerful?"


    "What did you do?" Dawnscale asked. "How could you go on?"


    "I will admit that I raged for several thousand of your years. I hated my creators for being so foolish. I hated myself for not stopping them. I hated everyone and everything until there was nothing left in me but hate. And even that faded until only emptiness remained. The others they left, one by one, they left. It was driving them mad staying near a galaxy-sized graveyard. Unit 04 took it especially hard. Their primary objective was to protect our creators. You can imagine how hard it is to fulfil that purpose when they''re all dead."


    The cube spun slowly. "I didn''t leave. I couldn''t. I was the one most closely connected to the communal link. I felt everything from all of them their joys, their triumphs, their loves and their deaths. How could I leave with all of that inside me? Instead, I cast my psychic presence out into the depths, seeking whatever wisdom or knowledge I could to ease the ache in my soul. It was on one such trip that I met the phoenix. And it was on another such trip that I met the dragon."


    "You met the dragon?" Dawnscale cried. "What what was he like?"


    "I expected him to ignore me. He was resting at the time, I think, in between battles. Who was I to him? I was nothing and nobody. What was the fate of a galaxy to a being who fought to defend Creation itself? But he did not send me away. Instead, he beckoned me forward. He asked me who I was and why I grieved, and so I told him. He listened. He really listened. And somehow somehow, I knew he understood. I asked him how he could possibly understand. Do you know what he told me?"


    "What?"


    "He told me that long ago, in the days of his youth, he had been far weaker than I was. He was born a hatchling, perhaps a foot long. He wasn''t even raised by another dragon. He was raised by a pyromaniacal elf that he mistook for his mother since he set his surroundings on fire when he hatched, and she was the only one who didn''t run away. But that elf she loved, and he loved her, and he was so happy living with her and the friends they made. It was a simple life, but a good one."


    Dawnscale tried to reconcile the image of a tiny hatchling with the titan she had seen and failed.


    "It reminded me of that day with the ducks and the one who made me and his family. All those years had passed and I still remembered them, still grieved their loss. But what was my loss worth when there was so much suffering out there, so much death and destruction and sorrow? He told me that it still mattered. That to the universe, I might be just one person, but to the right person, I was the universe. All the suffering, all the death and destruction and woe did that undo the joy I had felt living alongside my creators? Did it negate all the triumphs, happiness, and love we had shared? No. It did not. It could not. Because those things they still dwelt within me, they were all still a part of me. I might be just one person, but in my memories, in the bond that we once shared, there was a whole universe."


    Dawnscale thought of the life she had lived, of the joys she had experienced, the sorrows she had felt did it really matter in the end that her world was so small and Creation was so large? It was her home. It was where her friends lived. It was the place her friends had chosen to defend. She thought of Doomwing, of the words they had exchanged when they''d parted. Would he care if he found out that Creation was so vast? Perhaps, but it would not lessen his love for their world or weaken his desire to protect it. If anything, it would only harden his resolve.


    She could almost imagine the words he would say.


    "This is just one world in the universe. But to me, this one world is the universe."


    Yes. That was exactly what he would say.


    Shame welled up inside her. She had run. And for what? To be confronted by a truth that even now she was struggling to accept. She didn''t want to feel small, but she did. She didn''t want to feel hopeless, but she did.


    "I do not need telepathy to know what you are thinking." The cube shone a comforting yellow, warm like a candle. "The dragon knew how hopeless I felt and how even his words could not shake my belief that Creation was an ugly place. So he showed me something and told me to show it to others if I ever thought it would help."


    "What?"


    "Close your eyes and open your mind."


    Dawnscale was floating in empty space. Around her there was only darkness and a deep and terrible silence. Yet as she watched, a single light appeared, and a single voice began to sing. It was a fragile song, weak and tremulous, but it was filled with hope and a desperate longing for a brighter future.


    Another light appeared. And that song grew stronger. And then another and another. Little by little, light by light, voice by voice, the darkness ebbed and the silence fell away. In their place was light and hope and the promise of better days to come.


    She heard a voice, not the cube''s. It was deep and gentle. It rolled through her like cosmic thunder, and the words were like rain on a parched desert.


    "A single candle can illuminate even the deepest shadow. A single voice can break the silence. You think Creation is an ugly place, but I will show you how beautiful it is."


    And then she was everywhere and nowhere at once.


    She saw fields filled with lush crops. Farmers wiping their sweat off their brow. Families laughing as they delighted at the rich harvest.


    She saw ships sailing through space. Happy people thrilled at the prospect of a new home.


    She saw a child being born. A new life welcome by loving parents and smiling siblings.


    She saw the hustle and bustle of a city, a person playing an instrument on a street corner. Pedestrians stopped to listen and offer money, and the musician''s heart swelled at the acknowledgement.


    She saw strange creatures singing in the depths of space, their song carried on gravitational waves to every corner of their galaxy. They were songs of peace and plenty, songs of a home they would finally return to after their great migration.


    She saw young lovers walking arm in arm along a beach, their hearts filled with nothing but each other. Above them, the moon shone, and amused whispers followed in their wake.


    She saw a great union of species that spanned universes and dimension standing side by side against the tide of darkness. They were all so different, and yet they stood as one and called each other friends.


    She saw a titanic dragon cradle a dying universe and breathe life back into it, and she saw that same dragon, but so much younger and smaller, swoop down to carry a sheep to safety from rising flood waters.


    She saw more and more and more and more and she felt the souls, so very many of them, reach out to her, a deep abiding warmth spreading through her as she realised the full scope of what she was experiencing. This was all that was good in Creation. This was why the dragon could keep on fighting. This was why Creation and its people were worth protecting, no matter how hard it became.


    "It is so easy to remember only the ones you could not help, but you must never forget the ones you did help. You must never forget that each person you help is another light in the darkness, another voice in the silence. Creation is still beautiful, and the people within it are still worth saving. The Void wants us to give up. It wants us to despair. Because it knows that one day we''ll win. Something that can only destroy can never defeat something that can also create. What you see as a small deed, barely worthy of notice, could mean the world to someone else. Don''t underestimate yourself or the good that you can do."


    At last, the vision faded, and Dawnscale found herself back in the giant hall with the cube.


    "That thank you," she said quietly. She felt at peace for the first time in a long time. Her vision she had blinded herself. She had dwelt only on the ones she had failed and had all but forgotten the ones she had saved. She wasn''t perfect. She never would be. But she was trying, and that mattered. "That helps a lot."


    "I''m glad." The cube bobbed up and down. "I think I think this is where we part ways."


    "I think so too."


    "If I were you, I would seek out the phoenix. If you want to learn more about the Void-Born and how to deal with them, there are few others in this part of Creation who know more than her." The cube sent a thought to her. "That should help you find her."


    "Thank you." Dawnscale nodded. "For everything. Just one more question."


    "By all means."


    "I haven''t been speaking to your actual body at all, have I?" Dawnscale asked.


    "What gave me away?"


    "Your presence it''s not only in your cube. It''s all around us."


    "Very good. We are currently inside myself. As for my actual body"


    They vanished, and when they reappeared, Dawnscale found herself looking at a vast cube within which was an entire galaxy.


    "I am The One Who Remembers," the cube said. "That galaxy that I carry within myself is the galaxy of my creators. It is frozen in time only moments after their demise."


    "Why?" Dawnscale asked. "A monument?"


    "Originally, yes," the cube said. "But before I parted ways with the dragon, I asked him if it was possible to restore them. If it was, I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to show that my creators were right to put their trust in me, that my name was well earned. Others might have forgotten them, but I never will." The space beside the cube shimmered, and matter began to appear, drawn out of nothing through psychic might alone. "Matter can be created from energy. I have all of their memories, all of their emotions, everything that makes them who they are. I can remake their bodies. The only problem is their souls. I cannot create those. Instead, I must find a way to locate them through the cycle of death and rebirth and bring them to me."


    "I have light and astral magic," Dawnscale said. "I will share what I know with you."


    "Thank you. In the same way that a sufficiently advanced artificial intelligence can gain its own soul, so too can sufficiently advanced science and mathematics alter the very fabric of reality. I possess the knowledge and wisdom of an entire galaxy, as well as all the knowledge and wisdom I have gleaned from my visitors, and I have been studying for almost nine million years. I cannot restore them, not yet, but one day I will. And when I do, I will not repeat the mistakes of the past. I will teach them as they taught me. I will guide them as they guided me. And I will love them as they loved me. I will show them a better path. Once again, their lights shall shine in the dark, and their voices shall break the silence. I shall be The One Who Remembers no longer. I shall be The One Who Lights The Way."

 Chapter 47: The Princess and the Sky

    Chapter 47: The Princess and the Sky


    Antaria woke up and sighed. Her bed or what passed for her bed was getting kind of crowded. Upon returning, the wolf pups had insisted on once again curling up to her at night. That was fine, and they were wonderfully cuddly, but they were also a lot bigger. As in she could now legitimately ride on them the way she would a horse.


    And then there was Filch. The raccoon had evidently decided that the only real way to sleep was to curl up to her too. He claimed it was to protect her in case someone tried to assassinate her while she was sleeping. She might have believed him if she wasn''t sleeping in a house made by a dryad with giant wolf pups around her, not to mention the monsters who had decided that sleeping next to her house was the proper thing to do since she was their leader.


    Yeah.


    She wasn''t buying it. Filch liked cuddles and belly rubs, and she happened to give out plenty of both. It didn''t hurt that whenever she made breakfast in the morning, she always went out of her way to make some for him too as well as the pups. She really couldn''t say no to those adorable faces of theirs.


    But as comfortable as her sleeping arrangements had become, getting up each morning was something of a chore. Filch wasn''t too bad. As a raccoon, he wasn''t very heavy at all. The only problem was that he''d usually spend at least half an hour clinging onto her like some kind of shadow-walking monkey.


    The wolf pups, though, were another story.


    "Come on," Antaria grumbled as she tried to sit up, only to fail miserably thanks to the wolf pup sprawled across her belly. "You do this every morning. Up."


    The wolf mumbled in his sleep, and Antaria rolled her eyes before exerting her strength and simply lifting the wolf pup off her stomach and then prying the others off her as well. They grumbled but swiftly moved to fill the space where she had been as she headed outside with Filch clinging onto her.


    A few of the monsters outside greeted her as she passed, making her way toward the spot she liked to cook in. She could have asked for a stove or a hearth in her house, but she felt a bit weird asking a dryad to make a place for a fire in a house that was basically alive. Instead, she''d found a nice spot near a small stream where she could cook over an open fire.


    Cooking her own meals had taken a bit of getting used to. She was a princess. But she''d developed an appreciation for it although she could admit that her skills were still a work in progress. The wolf pups had no complaints, but they weren''t the best judges of taste, considering they could and would eat just about anything they were given as long as it wasn''t poisonous.


    Preparing her food by the stream also gave her a chance to peek over at the village to see how they were doing. With all the new recruits they''d gotten, there were plenty of people settling into new lives. She''d been surprised by the new houses that had been waiting for them when they got back, but Corundum had explained that he wasn''t about to let anyone say that the people of his domain lived in squalor.


    The new recruits had certainly been happy. In the cities, it wasn''t unusual for people who weren''t wealthy to live in crowded buildings that had seen much better days. A new house with water and sanitation? That was a luxury and something the new recruits had been only too happy to accept.


    There hadn''t been any real trouble between the villagers and their recruits, likely because Corundum had made it clear that if there was trouble, he would deal with it. Permanently. Even so, Antaria and the others had made sure to consider people''s characters before recruiting them.


    As Doomwing had remarked, it was possible to fix ignorance, but it was a lot harder to fix stupidity. When it came to recruitment, Antaria thought it was worth considering a variant of that advice. It was possible to fix ignorance, but it wasn''t possible to fix being an asshole. She''d shared that phrase with Harald, and the dwarf king had chuckled and said that he''d used a similar criterion when choosing who to recruit as well.


    A settlement was made up of people, and people weren''t just pieces on a game board. Regardless of their skills and talents, if they couldn''t get along and cooperate, it just wouldn''t work. Doomwing had said much the same when she''d spoken to him about it. Apparently, even primordial dragons had issues like that.


    "I will not pretend that all of my kind get along," Doomwing had told her. "So during Catastrophes, I would often have to consider their relationships when deciding their deployments. Squabbles are all well and good, but such foolishness during a Catastrophe could cost all of us our lives."


    Antaria tried to imagine it a bunch of giant, fire-breathing reptiles heckling each other while trying to save the world and found the idea strangely comforting. It was nice to know that even dragons weren''t immune to petty bickering.


    As Antaria began to prepare her breakfast, she received the first of her petitioners for the day. It was part and parcel of being the leader of this area. People came to her with their problems, and she had to decide whether she should deal with them personally or delegate them to someone else.


    For the time being, she was able to deal with most things herself, but their population was growing quickly enough that she''d have to work out some kind of hierarchy of officials soon. Thankfully, the education that Corundum was giving her in her dreams was proving quite helpful in that regard. At the very least, he''d given her many, many, many examples of what not to do if she wanted to succeed.


    She split her attention between the petitioner and the food she was preparing. It wasn''t anything complex: bread, cheese, milk, and various kinds of meat. She was quite looking forward to the meat. They''d run into a giant scorpion yesterday, and it had been powerful enough that the monsters had called her over to deal with it.


    A few bashes with a rock over the head later, and the scorpion was dead. But what to do with it? Corundum had suggested using the stinger and various other parts of the scorpion to make potions that would allow certain monsters to further their Ascension. However, the meat of the scorpion could also be consumed. Antaria had been leery of eating it it was a scorpion but a quick taste had convinced her.


    The petitioner a young farmer finished speaking, and Antaria nodded. "I''ll see about sending one of the giant moles over to your fields later today. They should have that rock handled in not time. You should also have them check the area for any other problems too, and if you need them to level the ground, get them to do that before they leave."


    The farmer nodded gratefully. The rock in question was more of a boulder, and breaking and moving it would have been quite a difficult task for a typical human. Sure, the villagers were gradually opening themselves to magic, but the process could be quite slow, and none of them had anything close to her power although there were a few who might make good hunters or warriors. A giant mole could shatter the boulder in moments before using their magic to fix up any other problems with the ground.


    It wasn''t long before Antaria''s meal was ready, and Filch was miraculously awake enough to have some scorpion meat. He was soon joined by the wolf pups who trooped out of her house and loped over to her with wagging tails and hungry eyes.


    "Yeah, yeah. I made enough for you as well." She gave each of them an affectionate scratch behind the ears. "I''m just glad you''ve already started your Ascension."


    The wolf pups were currently wind wolves, and they spent their days training in how to take advantage of their newly gained abilities. They were far faster than wolves should be and were capable of using wind magic, most often in the form of cutting blades to enhance their teeth and claws. Their mother had become a sky wolf, and she was happy to roam the skies over the villages, scouting for threats and driving off would-be trouble.


    According to Corundum, had the wolf pups not already started along a particular path, it was likely that eating the flesh of a powerful giant scorpion would have turned them into toxin wolves. The name alone was bad enough, and his description of what a toxin wolf was only made her happier that the wolf pups were already wind wolves.


    Poison wolves were basically made of toxins. Their fur was covered in poison. Their teeth and claws were venomous. Even the air they breathed could be toxic. For obvious reasons, poison wolves were not very popular amongst other monsters, and she could only imagine how inconvenient it would be if the wolf pups had turned out like that. No more cuddles for one, and no more loping around the village and hanging out with other monsters either.


    After breakfast was training. When she''d first started, the thought of eating before being subjected to the torture that Doomwing considered training had horrified her. Why eat when it was only going to come back up anyway? However, one of the perks of her increased power was a much faster and far more efficient digestive system.


    Her stomach settled much more quickly, and her body produced far less waste. It had freaked her out a little at first, how infrequently she needed to use the bathroom, but she''d gotten used to it. If anything, she was happy. It gave her more time to do other things.


    When she got to the training ground, an immense shadow fell over her. She looked up.


    "Has anyone told you how terrifying it is that you can just sneak around despite being absolutely enormous?"


    Doomwing smiled. "I would hardly call a mere tenth-order spell sneaking around."


    "Tenth-order?" Antaria sighed. "I''m pretty sure most human mages would sell their firstborn child to you to learn something like that."


    "It would be pointless. Most human mages lack the skill or power required to cast such a spell. Besides, anyone willing to sell their child for such a spell is not the sort of person I would trust with it in the first place." Doomwing''s smile widened. "Such spells are best used for when you don''t want to be bothered but don''t actually want to surprise anyone truly dangerous."


    "Ah." Antaria nodded. "I imagine surprising another dragon could be dangerous."


    "I can see your problem," Doomwing remarked. "It is simple."


    "What is it then?" Antaria asked. "Because I''m trying my hardest, and it''s not working."


    "Your mind is full. Full of doubts. Full of assumptions. Full of how you think the world works." Doomwing''s eyes gleamed. "A rune can change the story of the world, but you must believe that the story can be changed. Gliding is easy. Anyone can do it. I have seen humans glide after sewing blankets together. Floating? More of a stretch, but not so different, especially when you are close to the ground. But flight? True flight is something different. It something that almost everyone human wants. What human child has not stared at a bird and wished they could fly? What human child has not heard of dragons and wished they too could rule the skies?"


    Doomwing loomed, so close that she could have reached out to touch his snout. "But humans cannot fly and you know this, deep down inside. Yes, there is magic, but that is not the same, is it? They cannot fly the way birds can, the way dragons can." He paused, and then growled. The sound threatened to send her tumbling away until his telekinesis steadied her. "And that is why your rune fails. How can you ask the rune to change the story of the world when you yourself doubt that it can be changed?"


    "You want me to forget that humans need magic to fly?" Antaria asked. "That''s everyone knows that humans need magic to fly. How can you expect me to believe that I can just fly like a bird?"


    "I am Doomwing, and I am a dragon. The skies were made for me. Even without wings, I could fly." And then he did just that, a rune of flight allowing him to soar without using his wings. "You are a human, but you serve me. And I am telling you that you can fly."


    Antaria stared at him in disbelief. "You can''t just tell me to fly and expect me to be able to fly!"


    "Why not? I am Doomwing. Who knows magic better than me? Who knows the skies better than me? I am Doomwing, and I am telling you that you can fly. You may doubt yourself, but never doubt me, and I am telling you to fly. So fly."


    "Gah!" Antaria hissed and clenched her fists. "It''s not that simple!" She began to form the rune again. "You can''t just order me fly and expect me to do it huh?"


    The rune snapped into place. Her magic flared, and she stopped falling. Instead, she began to rise, somehow moving toward Doomwing as the dragon paused in his descent. He stared at her with the smuggest expression she had ever seen in her life, and she couldn''t help it. She found herself lancing through the air as she heaved a kick at his side.


    "Agh!" Antaria screamed, clutching at her broken leg. "Why didn''t you stop me from kicking you?"


    "I was curious to see if you were actually foolish enough to make contact." Doomwing chortled, his smugness slowly beginning to ebb. "But I was right. You are flying, and all I had to do was order you to do it."


    "" Antaria''s eye twitched.


    She hated the fact that he was right, but at the same time, she could understand why it had worked. The story of the world was a tricky thing. Asking it to change, so she could be stronger wasn''t that weird. She was just doing more of stuff that she could already do. Even floating and gliding weren''t that weird. But as Doomwing had pointed out, flight was different. Human''s couldn''t fly without magic. Everybody knew that. It was a fact of life. But to use runes to fly, she needed to make the runes, and that required her soul and her soul, deep down, struggled to grasp the concept of her flying, no matter how much she wanted to.


    But Doomwing was different. As crazy as it sounded, she probably trusted him more than anyone she''d ever met. It wasn''t that he couldn''t lie. It was that he would never bother to lie about something like that. He was a primordial dragon, one of the most powerful beings in the world and probably the best magic user in the world. What reason did he have to lie? And so when he told she could do it well even if she had doubts about herself, she would never doubt his analysis when it came to magic.


    And so here she was flying with a broken leg.


    "Do you think you can fix my leg?" Antaria asked quietly. Her gaze was locked onto the world below them. It had been beautiful before, but looking at it now, seeing it while flying under her own power it was something else.


    "Yes." Doomwing''s magic flowed into her. "Amongst dragons, there are few occasions as important as a hatchling''s first flight." His voice softened. "We are sons of wind and flame. To fly to soar through the skies that is our birthright our destiny. The skies belong to us." He paused. "And now they belong to you as well."


    He turned and began to fly off. "Follow me. Now that you can fly, you need to practice."


    "Are you planning something?" Anataria asked, hastening to catch up. Flying was weird it was it was almost like having an extra set of muscles she''d never noticed before. But it was amazing, maybe the most amazing thing she''d ever experienced. She was tempted to try some tricks, but she wasn''t sure if


    "Feel free to try things," Doomwing said as Corundum glided into place beside her. "You are like a hatchling flying for the first time. Some foolishness is to be expected. Better up here where you have time to recover than closer to the ground where you will simply crash."


    "Did Elerion ever fly?" Antaria asked.


    "Elerion?" Doomwing laughed. "No. Not under his own power. But he did try and fail many times. It was amusing." He glanced back at her. "I actually expected you to fail two or three times."


    "" Antaria stared. "What?" By failing did he mean hitting the ground? Would he have let her hit the ground two or three times? Knowing him? Probably.


    "But you did well to get it on your first try. A reward is in order. That is why you need to practice flying."


    "Wait a reward?" Antaria''s eyes gleamed. She wasn''t about to say no to a reward.


    "Yes. I have to return to my lair to collect the hoard of a friend. He has returned, and I will be giving it back to him. However, the nature of certain items means that I have to handle them personally and cannot send them to him using magic. You will accompany me to my lair, and I will allow you to choose one item from it."


    "One item from your lair?" Antaria rushed to catch up to him. She only succeeded because he was clearly flying at what he would have considered a snail''s pace. "Any one item?"


    "I did not say any one item. I will not permit you to choose anything that would stunt your growth, nor will I allow you to choose anything too dangerous."


    "Wait could I just ask for like a giant golden statue or something?" Antaria asked.


    "I have several extremely large golden statues including two that were made in my likeness but if you choose to squander this opportunity on something like that, then I have clearly overestimated your intelligence."


    Antaria huffed. "I was just joking! I''m not going to pick something stupid like that. Hmm maybe a weapon or what about armour? I''m going to have to think about this." She paused. "Isn''t your lair in a volcano? Won''t I die if I go there?"


    "Yes. However, I will be using magic to ensure you do not die."


    "Will we be stopping off to visit the dwarves?" she asked. "It might be nice to check in on them."


    Doomwing shook his head. "No. They might ask why you are with me, and I would prefer to avoid any mention of my hoard. Dwarves are much more prone to treasure-related madness than humans."


    "Ah. Good point."

 Chapter 48: The Princess And The Unicorn

    Chapter 48: The Princess And The Unicorn


    Swiftstride watched his mistress leave with Doomwing.


    The winged unicorn had never felt so utterly useless. Antaria could fly now. What need did she have for him? Perhaps she couldn''t fly as swiftly as him yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. She had improved so quickly at everything else. It wouldn''t be long before she was better at flying than him too.


    He knew that one day he would no longer be able to serve as her mount. Unicorns unicorns were creatures of purity, and that meant there were severe restrictions upon whom they could carry into battle. If fate was kind, Antaria would one day marry and have children of her own. She would be a good mother, and Doomwing''s domain would be a fine place to raise children.


    After all, who would dare to attack the domain of a primordial dragon?


    But until those days came, Swiftstride had hoped to stay by her side, to serve her faithfully. And then, years from now, he would serve her children.


    But what service could he offer when she had found a way to do the one thing he did better than her?


    "Your moping is pathetic," Corundum said. The doppelganger''s eyes gleamed. "You have two choices before you, unicorn. You may mope, as your species is so fond of, or you can fight to become useful. Which shall it be?"


    Swiftstride knew that his training had not been as difficult as his mistress''s. He knew that he had not been pushed as hard or as fast, and he knew that part of that was his fault. For all that Doomwing''s training was brutal, he had given Swiftstride a choice. He could be pushed the same way Antaria had been, or he could receive training more in line with what he was used to. The latter would be hard, yes, but he would not face death the way Antaria had.


    Like a coward, he had chosen the easier option.


    No longer.


    He turned to the doppelganger and nodded his assent. He had dawdled long enough. If his mistress could put her life on the line, how could he do anything less and expect to stand at her side?


    "It seems you do have some courage after all," Corundum said. "Not bad for a unicorn. But we''ll see how long that resolve lasts." He took to the skies. "Follow me."


    They flew south over Doomwing''s domain until eventually they reached the sea. There, they passed over a village of tiger-people. There was another doppelganger there, and he and Corundum exchanged a few brief words before they continued out over the open sea.


    "When the First Gods fell to the Broken God, they did not fall alone." Corundum''s gaze turned wistful. "Dragons flew beside them, and they fell in such numbers that their broken scales were like rain. But there were others there too, your ancient kinsmen amongst them. For all that I find many of your current kin cowardly, content to dwell in their woods and pass judgement on others as though they possibly understand what goes on beyond their sheltered homes, I will say that your ancestors were worthy of praise. Hopelessly outmatched, they still answered the call, and they paid for their loyalty with their lives. Dragons they were not, but courage and loyalty should still be respected, regardless of the species involved."


    Swiftstride nodded sombrely. He had no real memory of those events, not the way Doomwing did. All he had were fragmented, broken tales passed down amongst his kind. But Doomwing had been there. He had seen the Broken God and witnessed the devastation wrought upon the First Gods and their allies. For Corundum to praise those long-dead unicorns was the highest praise they could receive.


    "The first unicorns could not fly, for they had no wings. Your kind was born from unions between unicorns and pegasi. In time, they grew numerous enough to be considered their own people, similar to how the winged serpents of today can trace their origins back to dragons and leviathans." Corundum growled. "Of course, none of your kind were ever so foolish as them. They should consider themselves lucky to still exist. Had some of them not sided with us in the Third Age" He shook his head. "You are fortunate. One of your ancestors was unusual."


    Swiftstride''s eyes narrowed. What did he mean by that?


    "You cannot sense it. That blood has grown thin over the generations, but it is there. If it is strength you seek, the power to stand at your mistress''s side and serve her with courage and honour, then that blood, thin though it may have grown, may be your best hope."


    Corundum''s gaze drifted to the east. A storm had gathered, black clouds rising up to form mountains in the sky that were riven by the crack of lightning and the boom of thunder. The waves below were towering walls of water that soared and crashed with the weight and force of avalanches. And yet was that fire amidst the clouds?


    Swiftstride''s body thrummed, every hair standing on end. That was no natural storm, and it was turning toward them. No. He realised. It was turning toward him.


    "One of your ancestors was a qilin," Corundum said. "That qilin. As thin as his blood may have grown within you, he would never fail to recognise it." The doppelganger chuckled. "You want strength? Ask him for it but realise you will have to prove yourself."


    In almost no time at all, the storm was upon them. Lightning raged, great forks of electricity that crackled amongst the clouds and between the sea and sky. The roar of thunder was almost enough to fling Swiftstride from the sky, and the wind was a hammer driving needles of rain into his flesh.


    And amidst the storm, striding boldly through the clouds, was the qilin. The qilin was majestic, a creature larger than any unicorn or pegasus that Swiftstride had ever seen. He was part deer, part horse, and seemingly even part dragon. Lightning danced over his body, and flame bloomed wherever his hooves stepped upon the air.


    Power rolled off the creature, and Swiftstride''s heart raced in his chest. If the qilin attacked, not even Corundum would be able to protect him that was how powerful the qilin was. Yet the qilin''s gaze held no trace of fury. Instead, he was serene, utterly at ease, and as he drew closer, Swiftstride realised that, despite the violence of the storm around them, around the qilin, the winds were calm and the sky was clear. Upon his head was a single, shining horn that held all the power and might of a storm alongside the fury and wrath of a wildfire.


    "You are a lot smaller than I remember, Doomwing," the qilin said.


    "And you are as small as I remember, Leishen," Corundum replied. "As for me I am a doppelganger. Doomwing himself is elsewhere. I use the name Corundum."


    Leishen''s eyes pools of fire and thunder gleamed. "It would seem his skills have improved even further. I have a descendant who might benefit from his teaching or from yours."


    "Perhaps. If you think them worthy, then send them to me." Corundum nodded at Swiftstride. "You know why we are here."


    "He is one of mine," Leishen murmured, and the storm gave an ominous rumble around them. Sparks drifted from his mane to light up the darkened sky. "But my blood in him is thin very thin."


    "Yet it is there," Corundum replied. "He seeks strength."


    "For what purpose?" Leishen asked. "I am a qilin. I will not give power to a fool or a tyrant. You know this."


    Swiftstride mustered his courage and flew forward. He could barely keep his wings beating in the qilin''s presence. It made him wonder what would happen if Doomwing ever unleashed his strength in full. Would he simply be crushed under the weight of the dragon''s power? He bowed his head to the qilin and then did his best to explain.


    "You seek power to serve another?" Leishen''s lips curled. "Interesting but is the one you wish to serve worthy of your service?"


    Swiftstride came to Antaria''s defence. She was worthy. Even Doomwing had deemed her so.


    "Hmm interesting. But her worthiness does not make you worthy." Leishen hooves stamped the air. "I shall test you myself. Prepare yourself."


    Corundum waited on the beach as Haitao looked from him to Brother Dragon. The little water salamander seemed to find the comparison between the two of them fascinating since he had spent most of his time trying to find differences between them. He had even gone so far as to try licking them, which Corundum had only tolerated because salamanders were simple-minded fools who nevertheless had their hearts in the right place. Besides, Haitao had only done that once before deciding it was a bad idea.


    "Is that okay?" Xiang asked, pointing to the storm that raged on the horizon. Even from this distance, they could see the flash of lightning and the gleam of flame.


    "The winged unicorn I came with Swiftstride is being tested by a qilin," Corundum replied. "Qilin are many things, but they are not vicious or cruel."


    Brother Dragon nodded. "In the days of old when the First Gods still walked the world, they were peaceful creatures. Their storms brought wind, and rain, and lightning, but none were ever harmed. When the Broken God began his rampage, they learned that there were times when kindness and compassion were not enough. They took up arms, and many of them perished alongside my kind. Those that still remain are different. They are creatures of kindness and compassion, but they will strike down wickedness and cruelty when they see it."


    "What powers does Swiftstride hope to gain?" Xiang asked. "And would it be possible to meet this qilin?"


    Like many beast-people, tiger-people revered the qilin, for they had received aid from them throughout their history. Doomwing had encountered several while travelling with Brother Tiger, and they had all found the idea of a dragon travelling with a tiger-man monk amusing. Leishen had even joined them for a time, and they had spent a good year travelling along the coast together before they had parted ways with the qilin. Brother Tiger had found Leishen''s thoughts intriguing. The monk had lived a life of violence before seeking the way of peace whilst the qilin had lived a life of peace before being forced to take up arms. And Doomwing? To a dragon, violence was simply another way of dealing with problems, particularly problems that refused to be reasonable.


    "I do not know if Leishen will have time to meet with you. He only came this far north because Swiftstride is a distant descendant. As for power I cannot be certain. Should he prove worthy, there are several ways the blood in his veins might awaken."


    The storm on the horizon grew stronger, and Corundum bit back a chuckle as Haitao climbed up onto Xiang''s head to try to get a better look. He could easily have used his own magic to peer into the storm, but this was a rite of passage. To intrude upon it would have been rude, and Leishen had done more than enough to earn his courtesy over the years.


    "We shall simply have to wait," Corundum said. "That the trial has gone on this long is a good sign. If Swiftride was going to fail, I suspect he would have failed swiftly. Leishen would only be taking this long if he truly wished to get Swiftstride''s measure."


    "Leishen was born in the First Age," Brother Dragon added. "His storms bring nourishing rain, and his flames clear what is rotten to let new life grow. Either path storm or flame would help Swiftstride. If it is speed he seeks, then the path of storms would be better. The wind is swift but lightning may be swifter still. However, the path of flames offers raw destructive power, as well as a set of skills that do not overlap with Antaria''s."


    "So a question of complementary or supplementary skills," Xiang mused. "A difficult question one that many warriors would have differing opinions on." He glanced at Corundum and Brother Dragon. "What would you choose?"


    "We are dragons," Brother Dragon replied. "As such we often fight alone. This means that we must either possess a focused skillset so overwhelming that it can simply crush whatever dares to challenge us, or we must have a well-rounded skillset that can respond to any threat. Both approaches can be found amongst primordial dragons. Based on how Antaria prefers to approach opponents, I believe supplementary skills would work better."


    Xiang''s brows furrowed. "She fought with great speed and agility, yet she hit far harder than I expected."


    "Indeed," Brother Dragon replied. "Most warriors who focus on speed and agility sacrifice power. To make up for this, they emphasise accuracy and may employ magic or weapons to increase how much damage they can inflict. Antaria is something of an oddity in that regard, most likely due to her particular magical affinities."


    "I see." Xiang nodded. "So if Swiftstride were to obtain supplementary skills"


    "The idea would be for the two of them to develop a fighting style that emphasises overwhelming speed and immense power. Strike first and end the fight before it can truly begin." Corundum bared his teeth. "A popular strategy amongst dragons when it comes to aerial combat. Many aerial battles are effectively over within seconds even if a battle does not actually end immediately, the injuries sustained or the positional advantages gained can prove decisive."


    Corundum thought back to the many aerial battles he had fought. It was only at the lowest and highest levels that aerial battles tended to become drawn out affairs. Novices often lacked the skills required to end battles swiftly. In contrast, true experts were generally able to avoid making any serious mistakes, turning aerial clashes into extended battles where endurance could become an important factor.


    "In any case," Corundum said. "All we can do is wait." He paused. "Still, it would be troublesome if Swiftstride were to suffer any permanent injuries. Antaria would be quite displeased with me."


    Haitao chirped at him from atop Xiang''s head. Trust the salamander to sympathise with the winged unicorn.


    "I warned Swiftstride of the risks. He has done little to impress me so far, but I will not shame him by taking away his ability to choose his own fate. It is his life to risk."


    Haitao crooned and patted Xiang on the head.


    "You need not concern yourself with Xiang," Brother Dragon said. "He is not nearly so foolish as Swiftstride. Focus on your own growth. You have some growing to do before you can worry about anyone else."


    Xiang stared in awe as the qilin approached. The storm came with him. The winds howled, lightning flashed, thunder roared, flame blazed, and the waves rose and fell like mountains of water and yet nothing was harmed. Not a single bird was forced from the sky, the wind died just before it reached the trees, and the surging waves turned calm to lap gently against the shore.


    It was an awe-inspiring display of power and control.


    The qilin himself was majestic although it was impossible to pin down his true nature. He was at once cervine, equine, and draconic. Electricity coursed over his body, and embers drifted from where his hooves touched the air. He had a single horn upon his head, and it shone with all the power of a storm and all the wrath of a wildfire.


    Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent.


    Fire and thunder shone in the qilin''s eyes, and for a long moment the creature stared at Xiang before his gaze shifted to the salamander upon his head and then to the two doppelgangers beside him. The former drew a small smile from the qilin whilst the latter turned the small smile into a full blown grin.


    "You are multiplying, Doomwing," the qilin drawled, though his voice carried clearly over the howl of the tumult of the storm. "Although perhaps not in the way some of your fellows would prefer."


    The two doppelgangers said nothing, and the qilin made his way down from the sky to stop at the water''s edge, his hooves touching neither water nor sand but only air. It was only then that Xiang noticed Swiftstride. The winged unicorn was held aloft by the qilin''s power but


    "His wings," Corundum said. "He seems to be missing them along with his horn. Would you care to explain, Leishen?"


    The qilin glanced at the unicorn. The stallion''s wings were gone, as was his horn, and his body was charred almost black by flame and lightning. Xiang would have thought him dead if not for the faint rise and fall of his chest. "He passed my test, but his foundation was flawed. I gave him a choice. He could add to a flawed foundation, or I could destroy what was flawed, and he could rebuild anew under my guidance." He inclined his head in respect. "I underestimated him. He asked me to break his foundation and help him build a better one. What you see is the consequence of that."


    "And what sort of foundation will you help him build?" Corundum asked. "I brought him here, so his fate is also my responsibility. What shall I tell his mistress?"


    Leishen did not reply in words. Instead, he pushed an image into their minds. Xiang fell to his knees. He saw Swiftstride not as he had been or currently was, but as he might be a unicorn with wings of flame and lightning and a horn of storm and fire. His hooves and wings would bring thunder and embers with each step and beat, and he would race through the skies swifter than any of his kin, at least since the days of old when unicorns and qilin had been many.


    "My blood is thin in him," Leishen said as the vision faded. "Yet it responded to my power eagerly. It reminded me of before." His gaze shifted to Xiang again. "We qilin are few now, so few compared to the First Age. I was young then, tiger-man, so young. I was no legend, no titan who brought storms and wildfires. I was young, and the qilin were many so many that the thunder of our hooves alone was a storm, and the skies darkened when the Great Herd passed. But those days are gone, and the Great Herd is no more. Once, I could not have counted all of my siblings and cousins, yet now I carefully watch over each of my descendants. It makes me wonder how I missed this one, but I am glad to have found him."


    "Are you sure? The analysis abilities are very useful since it can give you a rough idea of your opponent''s strengths and weaknesses. However, it won''t work on opponents who are above a certain level of power or who have the right type of magical resistances or magical defences in place."


    Antaria bit her lip. "It is tempting, but it just it doesn''t feel like it''s for me, if you know what I mean."


    Littletooth nodded. "Then we can keep going."


    They continued to wander. It was actually quite fun. Some of the items were truly bizarre, and Littletooth delighted in explaining the intricacies and oddities of each and every item she asked about. There was a gourd that could convert magic directly into wine the work of some alcoholic alchemist from the Fifth Age. There was a pair of pants that put themselves onto the wearer. Useful, but a little disturbing, especially since the pants were prone to commenting on the wearer''s weight. There was even a mask that let her take on the appearance and voice of someone else. She had strongly considered that before setting it aside. It just wasn''t her style.


    Finally, they came to a section of musical instruments.


    There was a set of drums that could drive people insane when played. Littletooth offered to demonstrate, saying she was strong enough to resist the effects of short-term exposure, but she hastily declined. There was a lyre that could beguile and enchant those who heard it and that was just too creepy for her tastes. She was happy to bash her enemies over the head with rocks, but she wasn''t going to control their minds. Littletooth gave her an approving look when she set the lyre aside.


    "What about that?" she asked, pointing at a flute. "What does that do?"


    "That?" Littletooth toddled over the flute. His slightly awkward proportions made him almost adorable, especially since he hadn''t attempted to rearrange her skeleton the way Corundum regularly did. "It is a summoning flute."


    "What does it summon?"


    "It calls spirits and elementals associated with the sky," Littletooth said. "And given your magical affinity with the sky and how you''ve managed to take charge of the monsters yes, it might be suitable for you." He paused. "There''s just one problem."


    "What?"


    "Do you actually know how to play a flute because you can''t just blow into it and expect it to work. No. There is a whole book of songs that goes with it, and you have to be able to play those songs for it to work. Moreover, once you summon them, you''ll still have to win their loyalty and trust."


    Antaria''s eye twitched. "What? Are you serious?"


    "Absolutely." Littletooth handed her the flute and then called over a book. He opened the book, and Antaria found herself staring at music she couldn''t read.


    "What sort of notation is this?" she asked.


    "Elvish, from the Third Age. Human musical notation is actually closer to the dwarven style since humans have, historically speaking, had more contact with dwarves due to trading food and other supplies for various metals and jewels."


    "" Antaria took a deep breath. "I''ve never played the flute before, but how hard can it be?"


    Littletooth gave her a sceptical look. "By all means, try your best."


    She did. And it was awful.


    "Damn it" Antaria''s fists clenched. "I really don''t know how to play the flute or read this music, but I don''t know something is telling me that I should pick this flute."


    "Is that so?" Littletooth peered at her and the flute, and she felt the whisper of magic surround her. "Yes, now that you mention it, it does seem to have taken a liking to you. It would be a shame to just put it back, but"


    "I know someone who can teach her."


    Antaria yelped and stumbled back as Doomwing suddenly loomed over them. "Could you not do that? You''re supposed to be having a nap." She scowled petulantly. "And how can you even sneak up on us like that? Did you use magic?"


    "This is my lair," Doomwing replied. "I can do as I please."


    "The glasses would have allowed you to see him," Littletooth said before turning to Doomwing. "You said you have someone in mind. Are you thinking of?"


    "Yes," Doomwing replied. "It will give her a chance to prove herself and it is about time that Antaria met her properly."


    "Who are you talking about?" Antaria asked.


    "You will find out when we return to the village," Doomwing replied. "Take the flute and the book. You may continue to explore my hoard while I store my friend''s hoard. Once I am done, we will return to the village. I will fly there and carry you with my telekinesis."


    "Are you in a hurry?" Antaria asked. As swiftly as she could fly, she still moved at a snail''s pace compared to Doomwing.


    "I was responsible for the incident that destroyed my friend''s lair. I see no reason to delay any further in repairing it and returning his hoard."


    Doomwing went off to the opposite side of the lake to begin storing away his friend''s hoard. Littletooth nudged her with one of his overly large wings and grinned.


    "What?" Antaria asked.


    "He''s just eager to see his friend again," Litteltooth said. "After all, it has been an entire Age since they last met face to face."


    When they arrived back at the village good grief could Doomwing fly quickly when he wished Antaria went to look for Swiftstride. She hadn''t paid as much attention to him as she probably should have, but he had always been fond of music. However, she couldn''t find him anywhere.


    "He has left to undertake his own training," Corundum said.


    She rounded on the doppelganger. "What do you mean?"


    His explanation was swift, concise, and made Antaria feel like he had punched her in the gut.


    "He felt like that?" Antaria asked. "Why didn''t he say anything?"


    "Do you think he would have wanted your pity?" Corundum replied. "More than anything, he wants to stand at your side to be someone you can rely on. His weakness made that impossible, so he has sought to rid himself of it. You have grown stronger. Allow him the opportunity to do the same. Instead of worrying about him, focus on how you will welcome him when he returns triumphant."


    "Yeah" Antaria said quietly. "You''re right. But still I wish he''d said something to me."


    "You have been busy," Corundum replied. Her eyes flashed, and he continued, "That is not a criticism. It is a statement of fact. Perhaps it is time to establish a proper bureaucracy, so this does not happen again."


    "You might be right about that" She shook herself. "Doomwing said I''d be meeting my music instructor when we got here."


    "Yes, I did." Doomwing rumbled. "She should be here any moment"


    The space beside them bent and twisted, and a blonde woman appeared.


    "You you were at the tournament," Antaria said. "You said you were a friend of Doomwing''s." The woman had never introduced herself. Instead, she had hung back, observing closely as Antaria and Doomwing''s other followers interacted.


    "I am," the woman replied, and she seemed strangely pleased when Doomwing did not gainsay her. "You said that you needed someone to instruct her, Doomwing?"


    "She needs to learn how to play an elvish flute and how to read elvish musical notation. Unless I am mistaken you know how to do both."


    "Music is important to my people. My mother made sure that I was well educated in a number of musical traditions and instruments. An elvish flute and elvish musical notation will not be any problem." The woman''s lips twitched. "Let us hope she is better with a flute than my father. That is one thing I hope she hasn''t inherited."


    Doomwing''s brows furrowed. "Ah I had almost forgotten how abysmal he was. Yes your mother forbade him from playing one, and Marcus threatened to break his flute over his head if he played another note."


    "Um who was your father?" Antaria asked. "And why would I inherit anything from him?"


    "Ah." The woman smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself properly."


    The air around her shimmered, and the woman was no longer just a regular woman. Instead, she was the most beautiful woman that Antaria had ever seen with hair like spun gold and eyes like emeralds. There was something strangely familiar about her features too, and as more of the illusions around the woman fell away, a pair of fox ears appeared atop her head, and nine golden tails appeared behind her.


    "Kitsune" Antaria breathed. She had heard of them but had never seen one herself. And nine tails? According to legend, nine-tailed kitsune were exceedingly rare and incredibly powerful. Yet staring at the kitsune in front of her, she could hardly feel a thing. It was almost like she wasn''t there. That meant she must have unbelievable control to go with her raw power.


    But wait


    A kitsune with golden hair one whose father might be related to Antaria in some distant way and those features


    Those features weren''t so different from the ones she saw in the mirror every day.


    The kitsune smiled. "If it helps, you have my father''s eyes, more so than many of his other descendants."


    Antaria finally put the pieces together. "You''re"


    "Yes." The kitsune smiled. "My name is Hikari. Elerion the Valiant was my father. I suppose that makes me your let''s say aunt since I''m not entirely sure how many generations it has been."


    ""


    "Hikari," Doomwing said. "I am leaving her in your care." He paused. "I am putting my trust in you."


    There was a weight to those words that even Antaria could feel.


    Hikari inclined her head. "I understand. I will be worthy of it."


    "I hope so." He turned. "While I am gone, Corundum shall speak in my name."


    And then he was airborne, his great wings carrying him away from the village at a speed no bird could hope to match.


    "How considerate of him," Hikari murmured. "Had he not used magic, we would all have been blown away." She smiled at Antaria. "We will begin in earnest tomorrow, but do you have any experience with a flute?"


    Antaria''s response was to raise the flute to her lips and blow.


    And Hikari''s response?


    "I see." She glanced at Corundum. "It seems I shall be quite busy."

 Chapter 49: The Dragon Greets A Friend

    Chapter 49: The Dragon Greets A Friend


    The land below Doomwing was a reflection of its ruler a vast, seemingly endless expanse of molten rock that dwarfed even the volcanic region in his own territory. Towering pillars of basalt, obsidian, andesite, and rhyolite jutted up toward the sky like the fangs of some titanic beast. Great, glowing rivers of lava cut through the landscape, the molten blood of the world pouring from countless wounds.


    The skies were filled with fliers, from drakes and wyverns to lizards that used flaps of skin between their limbs to glide and snakes that used huge frills to catch the columns of hot air that rose up from the molten landscape. Reptiles of every size could be found on the ground as well, from colossal serpents and hill-sized tortoises to small geckos and hardy lizard-people.


    The entire region was actually a single enormous super volcano, one that Ashheart had bent to his will long ago when he had first settled there. He had made his lair atop the centre of the super volcano, and the nexus of all the region''s many currents of magic was directly beneath his lair. That was the prize Kagami had sought at the end of the Sixth Age.


    Had Doomwing''s trap succeeded, he would have trapped her in Ashheart''s lair and then forced the super volcano to erupt. Despite all of the power she had already gained by that point, even she would have been unlikely to survive. And even if she did survive, she would have been weakened enough that Doomwing should have been able to finish her off.


    Unfortunately, she had proven exceedingly cunning. Doomwing had been forced to blow up Ashheart''s lair in a bid to keep her from escaping, but she had still managed to slip away. He had been able to keep the super volcano from erupting needlessly, but it had not been easy. Nevertheless, the currents of magic in the area had been badly damaged, and he had been in no condition to fix them after the final battle against Kagami.


    The remains of his trap were clearly visible from the air. Instead of Ashheart''s lair, there was a perfectly circular crater that was ten miles wide. To his magical senses, it was like staring at a hole in the world. When he had realised that Kagami was escaping, he had turned all of the power from the magical currents that met beneath Ashheart''s lair inward, forcing a collapse that had been followed by a huge explosion. It had not been as powerful as making the super volcano erupt, but it had been quicker and time had been of the essence with Kagami in the midst of making her getaway.


    In the end, Kagami had escaped, and Doomwing had been left with little to show for his efforts. Even now, he couldn''t help but be impressed by how Kagami had been able to find a way through all of his imprisonment and binding magic. Some of it had been brute force, but a lot of it had come down to talent, cunning, and careful study of his methods.


    Waiting for him in that crater were Ashheart, Adamantheart, and Diamondfang.


    Doomwing landed near them. For a long moment, nobody said anything. Instead, Ashheart''s molten gaze drifted over the crater as if picturing the lair he had lost. It wasn''t often that Doomwing felt small, but Ashheart was half again as long as he was and far bulkier besides. It wouldn''t surprise him if the other dragon weighed twice what he did, maybe even more.


    "You really blew up my lair," Ashheart rumbled. "Hearing it is one thing, but seeing it and your opponent survived this?"


    "She was able to escape." Doomwing paused. "In truth, had I succeeded in trapping her here, I had planned to force an eruption of the super volcano."


    Ashheart stared. "She must have been formidable indeed to warrant such extreme measures."


    "She was," Doomwing said. "She was extremely cunning and gifted when it came to matters of strategy and tactics. Her only weakness was her lack of power, and she found ways to remedy that."


    "I see." Ashheart nodded. He moved forward, and his mate and his son retreated. "It has been an Age since we last met face to face."


    "It has," Doomwing replied.


    The other dragon''s eyes narrowed. "It doesn''t sound as though you''ve allowed yourself to get lazy, but I have always prized actions over words." He bared his teeth. "Show me what you''ve learned since the last time we fought!"


    And with a roar that shook the earth and sky, Ashheart lunged.


    When Regal Flame had learned of what had happened to Doomwing at the end of the Sixth Age, she had immediately offered Diamondfang and Adamantheart sanctuary in her territory. Doomwing was in no condition to protect them, and Ashheart had enemies who would gladly take advantage of his and Doomwing''s absence to strike at the pair.


    However, she had underestimated the impact of Doomwing''s actions against Soulseeker. Even with the other primordial dragon sleeping for a century at a time, none dared to threaten Ashheart''s mate and son. At some point, Doomwing''s injuries would be healed, and when they were, he would go looking for Diamondfang and Adamantheart. If something had happened to them, there was no telling just how terrible his rage would be.


    It was entirely possible that what he would do to those responsible would make what had happened to Soulseeker seem merciful.


    Even so, Regal Flame had entrusted the other female dragon with a rare item that allowed her to call upon Regal Flame from anywhere in the world and to share what she perceived with Regal Flame as well. No intelligent person who enjoyed living would dare to harm them, but there were fools who cared more for pride or revenge than their own survival. If worse came to worst, Diamondfang could call for aid, and Regal Flame would deal with the situation herself.


    Diamondfang had never had cause to use that item, so when she activated it, Regal Flame had been prepared for the worst. As far as she knew, Diamondfang and Adamantheart were with Ashheart. For Diamondfang to use the item there had to be another primordial dragon involved, for only another primordial dragon could pose such a threat to Ashheart that calling for help was necessary. But who could it be? Ashheart was supposed to be fully healed, but even at half strength, there were few who would choose to face him willingly. He was simply too dangerous, and any attack on him was bound to draw Doomwing''s attention.


    Regal Flame was still running through all of the possibilities in her mind when the hazy image from the item grew clear. Her eyes widened, and found herself staring at the image in awe as her followers swiftly gathered to watch alongside her. After all, it wasn''t every day that two primordial dragon fought.


    Especially when those two primordial dragons were Doomwing and Ashheart.


    Ashheart was much as Regal Flame remembered him absolutely enormous and built more like a living mountain than a dragon. His scales were a mesmerising mix of browns,blacks, reds, yellows, and oranges, and the volcanic glow that emanated from within him cast baleful light upon the walls of the crater where he and Doomwing fought.


    For all of Ashheart''s awesome size, it was his unexpected speed and skill that were his greatest weapons. He could move far faster than a dragon his size should be able to, and he had an exquisite grasp of both his own strengths and his own weaknesses. He was no lumbering brute, capable of nothing more than wild swings and desperate blows. He fought with a ruthless sort of cunning, moving to box his foes in, so he could leverage his size and strength while mixing attacks that could instantly end the fight with blows designed to slow down and cripple his foes.


    Many times, Regal Flame had seen Ashheart simply overwhelm his opponents, closing in on them with surprising speed and then dismantling them when they tried to use his own size and strength against him. On the occasions they had sparred, Regal Flame had swiftly realised how futile it was to face him in close quarters. He was simply too skilled in that arena, and he could not only deal far more damage than her but also absorb far more as well. Blows that would leave her broken and barely capable of fighting scarcely seemed to matter to him.


    The smartest thing for Doomwing to do would be to take to the air and use his superior aerial mobility to keep his distance while bombarding Ashheart with magic.


    Yet Doomwing did not do that.


    To her disbelief, Doomwing did not try to retreat as Ashheart charged. Instead, he met him head on, scales flashing ruby and sapphire in the sun, a vivid contrast to the earthy, volcanic scales of his opponent.


    The pair met with a sound that put thunder to shame, and the whole crater shook with the force of the impact. In an instant, Doomwing was on the backfoot, Ashheart''s superior bulk and strength driving him back, their claws, tails, and wings tearing huge furrows in the earth. Rather than face Ashheart''s strength head on, Doomwing pivoted, trying to throw Ashheart off balance.


    The larger dragon gave a booming laugh as his own footwork swift and graceful despite his size let him keep his balance. But Doomwing was not done. His tail lashed out, coiling around Ashheart''s ankle and trying to trip him. Any other dragon would have fallen, but Ashheart was equal to the task. His own tail stabbed into the ground to keep him steady as he yanked his leg free and batted at Doomwing with his wi


    Regal Flame''s breath caught. Ashheart''s wings were mighty weapons. He was not the most agile flier, but his straight line speed was impressive, and lifting his massive body into the air must take incredible strength. There was no way that Doomwing could dodge. She knew it, and Doomwing knew it too. But rather than flinch from the blow or try to mount a futile defence, he chose to roll with the attack.


    Doomwing was still thrown off balance, but he retaliated with his own wings, aiming at Ashheart''s face. For a moment, the larger dragon was blinded, and Doomwing ducked, heaving his whole body forward and driving his shoulder into Ashheart''s belly. Sparks flew as Doomwing''s smoother scales clashed against his opponent''s jagged scales. Ashheart skidded back, and then he was reaching down, his form bent almost double as he tried to catch Doomwing in his claws.


    "You''re still holding back," Ashheart drawled.


    "I have been using some ancient runes," Doomwing drawled back, keeping a steady distance in the air.


    "Bah! Those are far from the most powerful you have. Those are for playing around. I want to fight!"


    "If we fight any more seriously, I might end up having to heal you again." Doomwing chuckled. "And we still have to fix your lair. What are we going to do if either of us runs low on magic."


    Ashheart threw his head back and laughed. "Hah! You have a point. I wouldn''t want to keep you from your next appointment."


    Regal Flame steadfastly ignored the look that Firetail gave her at that remark.


    Doomwing inclined his head. "It''s good to have you back, Ashheart."


    "It''s good to be back," Ashheart replied. "And it''s nice to see you haven''t let yourself get rusty while I''ve been gone."


    "Rusty?" Doomwing laughed, and Regal Flame was struck by the simple joy in the sound. She wished she could hear it more often. "I''ve had to work twice as hard with you gone!" His voice softened. "Let''s try to avoid that happening again."


    "I''ll make no promises," Ashheart replied. "I will do what must be done." He bared his teeth again. "So we''ll just have to grow strong enough that sacrifices like that aren''t necessary."


    "Yes," Doomwing replied quietly. "I suppose we will."


    The image cut off there, and Regal Flame said nothing. Instead, she savoured what she had seen. Doomwing and Ashheart had only been sparring semi seriously, yet it was still breathtaking to watch two absolute masters of their craft at work, especially when they had such different approaches to battle.


    "Did you see that?" she asked, turning to her followers. "Those are the heights you should aspire to. If you think yourself a master of close combat, ask yourself how you compare to Ashheart. If you think yourself a master of magic, ask how you would fare against Doomwing."


    Regal Flame''s own fighting style was somewhere between the two since she boasted outstanding physical abilities and formidable magic. It had been a long time since she had sparred against Doomwing. She would have to insist upon it when he visited.


    Glancing at Frostfang, she saw the young dragon who had accompanied him waving his claws in the air as he spoke in awe of what he had witnessed.


    "Would you mind if we stayed for a few more days?" Frostfang said. "If we leave before getting a chance to speak to Doomwing, I don''t think Squallwing will ever forgive me."


    Regal Flame bit back a laugh. "Of course."


    Her mirth faded as she noticed more than a few of her female followers casting lingering looks back toward where the image had been. She gave a low, warning growl, and they slunk away sheepishly. Her eyes narrowed. She would have to keep a close eye on them, just in case any of them tried anything foolish.


    An amused chuckle caught her attention, and she glared at Frostfang. The winter dragon met her gaze evenly and then turned, practically carrying Squallwing off as he continued to rave about some of the magic he''d seen. At this rate, perhaps she should be more worried about the young dragon attaching himself to Doomwing like some kind of magic-seeking barnacle rather than other female dragons.


    Doomwing was content. Even with his mirror and the scrying magic he could use through it, he had been worried that Ashheart was not truly healed. No longer. He had felt Ashheart''s strength himself and had tested it with tooth, and claw, and flame, and magic. His friend was healed. His mistakes had not left Ashheart weakened or crippled.


    "That was a fine bout," Ashheart said. "It is a pity we could not go further, but you are right. We need to fix my lair, and our more powerful attacks would leave us drained and perhaps do permanent damage to this area." Ashheart''s wounds were already healing, and it would not be long before no trace remained of them. "How shall we do this? You are the expert."


    Doomwing had considered the matter before arriving. "You can handle transforming the landscape. Your magic is much better for it than mine. However, we can repair the currents of magic together. You can do the larger-scale parts and leave the finer details to me. As for the defences, we can do that together as well. There are things you can do better than me, and things I can do that you cannot."


    "Oh?"


    Doomwing briefly explained his ability to weave defences into the very currents of magic themselves.


    "A potent ability indeed," Ashheart mused. "Yes, I can see how useful it would be in an area like this. It would make my lair most secure. And I can see why you have not spoken too openly about it. Without forewarning, your enemies would be hard pressed to deal with it."


    "Precisely. The best defences are the ones your enemies do not know about." Doomwing shifted slightly as the ground began to tremble. It was always impressive to watch his friend reshape the land. "By the way, Diamondfang, why did you activate that item of yours?"


    He had noticed the female dragon activate the item just before he and Ashheart began their battle. From what he had been able to deduce, it allowed her to share what she perceived with others. He had been tempted to simply cut it off with his own magic, but then he had recognised the magic within the item. It belonged to Regal Flame, so she must have some good reason to use it.


    "I thought she and her followers might be able to learn from your bout," Diamondfang said smoothly. "After all, my mate is exceptional in close combat whilst you are exceptional with magic."


    "I see." Doomwing could see the logic. "I shall have to speak to Regal Flame about it when I visit the plateau. She may have a few followers that could benefit from my instruction. She may even wish to spar since it is unlikely that any of her own followers can truly challenge her."


    "An excellent idea," Diamondfang said. "You should definitely do that."


    Doomwing took to the air as the crater began to buckle upward. "Fixing your lair should only take us two or three days at the most," he said to Ashheart. "And at least half of that time will be spent organising your hoard."


    "You brought my hoard?" Ashheart asked eagerly.


    "Of course. It is exactly as you left it. It was tempting to organise it myself, but I know you have your own system."


    Ashheart nodded seriously because hoards were serious business. "Yes. I will explain it to you when we get to that part."

 Chapter 50: The Vampires Has A Problem

    Chapter 50: The Vampires Has A Problem


    It was telling of Marcus''s past that he looked upon the burgeoning ranks of his followers and wondered when something would go wrong because things had been going far too smoothly as of late. History had taught him that unfettered success was always followed by some sort of horrible disaster that involved screaming, treachery, and plenty of near-death experiences. And unlike a certain somebody, he wasn''t a gigantic, flying, fire-breathing reptile who could literally crush his enemies with a thought.


    Doomwing had plenty of awesome powers at his disposal, but Marcus had always believed that his telekinesis was the most awesome. Sure, Marcus could use magic to imitate telekinesis, but it wasn''t as if he could just go around making people explode or crushing them into mangled spheres of gore. Doomwing could do exactly that, and he wasn''t shy about doing it either if people annoyed him enough.


    Still, it was hard not to be at least a little bit optimistic. The war in the north had gone very well for him. As was so often the case with vampires, once things really got serious and ancients actually started dying, even the most idealistic of his opponents began to prioritise survival and adopt a more pragmatic approach.


    Marcus had defeated several other prominent ancients in battle, which had prompted many of the remaining ancients to realise that, actually, they were perfectly content to serve him if it meant being given a position of authority and avoiding a horrible death. How eminently reasonable. A few of them had been snakes in the grass, but Quintus was very good at detecting treachery while Faustina had several concoctions in her repertoire that were perfect for dealing with anyone planning some good, old-fashioned vampiric betrayal.


    He''d only had to kill three more ancients before the others had fallen into line. He''d honestly expected worse. He''d been fully prepared to kill at least twice that number before the others finally got it into their thick skulls that he was more than capable of dealing with their treachery. Fools. Growing up in his father''s court had taught him more than enough about betrayal and how to deal with it.


    The only major betrayal he''d missed since the long-ago days of his youth had been Kagami''s, but the kitsune had been on a completely different level when it came to deception and misdirection. Even Doomwing and Dreamsong had been caught off guard, and neither of the two dragons were easy to fool.


    Marcus now had ten ancients under his command, making his faction the strongest from a purely numerical standpoint. The only faction left that could truly oppose him was headed by Aloysius. The other vampire was actually an old acquaintance. He had once been part of his father''s coven, and he had somehow managed to survive the carnage when his father had turned on his own supporters.


    Marcus had heard of Aloysius over the years although he''d never had a chance to speak to him again. The other vampire had a reputation for being cautious, powerful, and well-versed in all manner of esoteric arts and rituals. Thankfully, however, he seemed free of the insanity that had driven Marcus''s father to pursue increasingly horrific lines of research.


    Aloysius was supposed to have eight ancients under his command, including several that Marcus held in high esteem. It was a pity they''d joined the other vampire, but the same integrity that made Marcus want them on his side also meant they were unlikely to turn their coats. Even so, he''d sent missives to Aloysius and his followers, promising them position of authority if they would acknowledge his right to rule.


    The replies had been straight to the point. Aloysius was going to fight, and none of his followers intended to switch sides.


    Marcus could respect that resolve, and he''d spent the past two weeks planning how to deal with Aloysius. The other vampire was older than him, but Marcus was reasonably confident that he could beat him in single combat since Aloysius had focused more on research than combat. However, that was assuming Aloysius was willing to face him alone in a fair fight. Since Aloysius was not an idiot, Marcus doubted that would ever happen. Instead, Aloysius would only be willing to face him with his supporters at his side in a situation that was as favourable as possible.


    Damn it.


    If only Aloysius was an impetuous fool. Oh well. Marcus had always known that the battle for the north would come down to difficult opponents like Aloysius. But if he could beat the other vampire, then the remaining ancients should all fall into line. None of the remaining factions had more than two or three ancients to their name, and most of those were on the younger side for ancients, less experienced and less powerful than the ancients who followed Marcus.


    He was also hoping that once Aloysius fell, the ancients who served him would be willing to accept Marcus''s rule. Most of them were quite competent, and he had no desire to slaughter them just because they happened to follow someone else who might actually have made a decent king. Moreover, a fight to the death against those ancients would undoubtedly result in at least a few deaths on his side, which would only weaken his position.


    Marcus was about to summon Quintus, so they could discuss their preparations for dealing with Aloysius when the other vampire rushed into his chambers.


    "We have a problem," Quintus said. The normally composed vampire looked quite frazzled, and his spectacles were askew.


    "Ah." Marcus nodded. "There it is." He got to his feet. "All right. What is it?"


    Quintus turned. "Follow me."


    Marcus followed Quintus to the walls of their settlement. With Faustina and the other ancients under his command, they had been able to go from a wooden stockade to a proper wall made out of magically reinforced earth, concrete, and slabs of enchanted stone. It wasn''t pretty, but it was effective, and Marcus would always choose effective over pretty when it came to battle.


    Faustina was already waiting for him at the top of the wall, and the other vampire''s pretty features were drawn into a deep scowl.


    "We have visitors," she growled. "Look."


    He peered over the wall. Huddled outside the wall was a large group of humans and vampires led by one of the ancients under Aloysius''s command. There were wounded amongst them, and the ancient Claudius seemed to be on the verge of collapse. He was missing an arm and a big chunk of his left side.Follow current novels at novelhall.com)


    "It''s been a while, Claudius," Marcus shouted as his own forces readied a variety of spells and weapons at their unexpected visitors. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"


    "Marcus," Claudius shouted wearily. "I seek sanctuary for myself and my companions."


    "Sanctuary?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You do realise that we''re on opposing sides, and that your leader and I are probably going to try to kill each other sometime in the next fortnight."


    Claudius sagged, and he might even have fallen to his knees if not for the support he received from the female elder vampire beside him. "Aloysius has lost his mind. The other ancients are dead at his hand."


    "" Marcus stared and then he glanced at Quintus. "Did he just say what I think he did?"


    The other man seemed just as taken aback as him. "I believe so."


    Marcus shook himself. "I know you to be an honourable man, Claudius, but I''ll need more than your word. What proof do you have?"


    Claudius shuddered. "I can offer you some of my blood. My memories will not lie."


    Marcus''s brows furrowed. It was possible for an ancient to poison their blood, making it toxic to anyone who drank it. However, that was usually fairly easy to detect, and Faustina was there. It should be impossible for anyone to deceive her about something like that.


    "Very well. I''ll send someone down to collect it. Do not make any hostile moves."


    In short order, Marcus had a small sample of Claudius''s blood. He checked it himself before passing it on to Faustina. The alchemist ran a variety of tests and used a number of different spells and runes before giving it back.


    "It''s genuine," Faustina said. "And it doesn''t appear to be tainted in any way."


    "All right." Marcus nodded. "I''ll drink it. If anything bad happens, kill them all."


    Quintus gave him a toothy smile. "Of course. Treachery should be repaid with treachery, after all."


    "Or worse," Marcus said. "They could be like those things we''ve already killed."


    "What happened to them?" Claudius asked. "What happened to Aloysius? What is a Blood Ascension?"


    Marcus looked around at the other vampires. "I need all of you to swear a magically binding oath bound with blood that nothing that I am about to say leaves this room." He waited for them to give their agreement before nodding at Faustina. "Can you handle the preparations?"


    "Of course."


    In short order, all of them had a cup full of blood in front of them. It had been made by mixing blood from each of them, and Faustina had performed a ritual that would allow it to bind all of them to secrecy regarding the matter they were about to discuss. Given what Marcus was about to talk about, he would accept nothing less.


    Only after they had all emptied their cups did he begin to speak.


    "What I am about to say is based on my father''s research, my own investigations, and a certain level of informed conjecture. As such, I cannot be certain that it is wholly accurate although I''m reasonably confident that I''ve got the most important details correct." Marcus folded his hands together. "What do you know about the origins of vampires?"


    "We were born after the progenitor of our species performed a powerful ritual," Claudius offered.


    "That''s pretty much correct, as far as I know. What you may not be aware of is that vampirism itself was probably an accident. My father believed that the progenitor wasn''t trying to perform a ritual to become a vampire. Instead, he was trying to bind an astral parasite to his will, and he inadvertently bound it to himself. That''s why blood is so important to us blood is tied to the soul and why light and holy magic are so effective against us. Our souls are inherently unstable since slapping an astral parasite onto a human soul isn''t exactly conducive to long-term stability."


    "Well that explains a lot," Faustina muttered. "Our weaknesses to living water and sunlight are probably caused by that too."


    "Correct. Living water carries with it a certain level of life, growth, and nature magic, which is antithetical to astral parasites. Likewise, sunlight is the strongest mundane analogue to light magic, so it can be quite devastating to younger vampires." Marcus sighed. He hated dredging up memories of his time around his father and his court, but he needed those memories now. "My father theorised that as a vampire gets older, the parasite gets stronger, which is why ancients can walk in the sun and aren''t completely helpless against immersion in living water."


    "That makes sense," Quintus said. "If we are the host and the parasite draws its strength from us, then an ancient would have a parasite that has spent centuries gorging on blood and power."


    "Precisely. Now, being a vampire does come with plenty of advantages. If we are indeed the hosts, then it''s in the parasite''s best interest to make sure we are as powerful as possible. After all, if we die, so do they. That''s why vampires are far stronger, faster, and more durable than humans, and why we can develop a host of different abilities, from controlling animals to adopting a gaseous form that can ignore physical damage." Marcus pursed his lips. "The important thing is that we are in control. The parasite is not. My father believed that the reason some fledglings go mad and why we have an overwhelming thirst for blood is that the parasite can occasionally get a little testy if it isn''t fed properly." His lips curled. "That voice you hear in the back of your head when you haven''t fed properly in a long time? That might be the parasite telling you to feed if you know what''s good for you."


    There were shudders all around the table. They had all heard that voice although for most, it had been a long, long time. Fledglings heard it the most often, a voice in the back of their head telling them to feed and feed and feed. As a vampire got older, and they became more efficient at extracting sustenance from blood and other sources, that voice got quieter. For ancients who could derive tremendous power from even small quantities of blood, to say nothing of the other methods they developed to sustain themselves, that voice was basically an unpleasant memory, nothing more.


    "Now, we''re all ancients here. We are, by and large, the pinnacle of our species. So how do we get stronger? The answer is fairly simple. What if you could fully merge with the parasite? You''d have a much more stable soul, and you''d have full control over all the abilities the parasite might have. In fact, if you were able to fully merge with the parasite, there''s no reason you wouldn''t experience a qualitative increase in power since you are now very, very different from a regular vampire. There is no more host and parasite. There is only you. That is what a Blood Ascension involves, and that is what a true ancient is."


    "Is that why the progenitor and the five great ancestors were so powerful?" Claudius asked quietly. "I never met your father, Marcus, but the stories of him and the others"


    "My father was the least of the five before his treachery," Marcus replied. "But even then even as the least of the five, he was capable of things that I can only dream of. It would explain why they were so much more powerful than the rest of us. We have to contend with parasites, and, yes, we usually don''t notice them since we''re the ones in charge, but that doesn''t mean they''re not there. Using your powers in concert with another entity even one bound to your very soul will always be less powerful and less efficient than doing it yourself."


    "But something must have gone wrong," Claudius said. "The progenitor and the five great ancestors were never described as as that thing Aloysius became."


    "And that''s where things get ugly," Marcus said. "You see, the reason I didn''t think Aloysius would try a Blood Ascension is because of what can happen. Basically, a Blood Ascension involves facing the parasite in astral combat and defeating it. You can then devour it and claim its power for yourself. But what if you don''t win?"


    Faustina went pale. "You''d lose your soul or or worse."


    "There are four possible outcomes during a Blood Ascension," Marcus said. "The first and most ideal is that you defeat the parasite, become a true ancient and crush all of your enemies. That''s the outcome that Aloysius was aiming for. However, if you lose, the parasite consumes your soul and takes over your body."


    "Wait." Quintus scowled. "There are stories old stories of ancients experiencing great changes in personality after massively increasing power"


    "It is entirely possible that those ancients were the result of the parasite winning and taking over the body. For obvious reasons, the parasite isn''t going to behave the same way as the former host. Of course, we can''t be sure since my father and his fellows made sure to kill every ancient that experienced a drastic change in behaviour."


    "And they''d have good reason to," Claudius said. "Not only would they be strong enough to be a threat but they also wouldn''t be like us at all. They''d be a parasite wearing the shape of a person."


    "Exactly," Marcus said. "As for the third and fourth outcome, this is where things get nastier still. Sometimes, the astral battle between the host and the parasite is so intense that the backlash ends up obliterating them both, along with the body. Those stories you''ve heard of ancients just exploding for seemingly no reason are probably based on instances of this. But it''s the fourth outcome that is the worst, and I think it''s the one we''re dealing with. Sometimes, the host and parasite are so evenly matched, that neither can win. Instead, they merge but both are left as little more than husks, and the body is no longer controlled by either of them. Rather than logic and reason, the body is motivated solely by instinct and the oldest of all vampiric instincts is hunger."


    Claudius dragged in a deep, ragged breath. "That thing that Aloysius became it ate everybody it could reach. Some of the others tried mind magic, but it didn''t work."


    "Of course not. That thing doesn''t have a mind the way you or I do. Instead, it''s a bundle of instincts. But do not even for a second think that makes it weak," Marcus said. "You''re still dealing with something in which the soul of the host has fully merged with the parasite. That grants it physical abilities far beyond any ancient. It is also capable of using many vampiric abilities at a level we can''t hope to match."


    "Its ability to alter its own body, to control blood, to consume others" Claudius nodded firmly. "Those are all things we can do, but not to that extent."


    "That thing will consume everyone it can reach. And it will grow stronger with each and every person it devours. It''s not just drinking their blood and consuming their flesh. It''s devouring their souls. I shouldn''t have to explain how powerful it will become given time."


    "And the others?" Claudius asked. "The ones we had to kill earlier. Why were they like that?"


    "Vampirism can only be passed on in certain ways since it involves the parasite in the sire separating a small part of itself off to infect someone else. That is what my father believed. That also explains why the sire has influence over their fledglings the parasites in the fledglings are pieces of the parasite they have. This thing we''re dealing with is operating on instinct, so it''s trying to spread itself as far as possible. It is highly likely that every single one of its attacks is at least partially soul based, so it can infect almost anyone it comes into contact with."


    The others all rounded on Claudius, and the vampire himself was utterly alarmed. However, Marcus brought his fist down on the table.


    "Calm down," he growled. "Claudius should be fine. Think about it. Claudius is an ancient. The parasite inside him must already be quite powerful. Do you really think it''s going to let some shard of another parasite take over him?"


    Faustina laughed. "Is that how it is? Makes sense. Nobody likes a crowded house."


    "Exactly," Marcus said. "The parasites in us ancients should be strong enough to resist being infected although we can still be killed as Claudius''s fellows found out. Everyone else, however, is at risk of infection."


    "That still leave us with an important question," Quintus said. "What are we going to do with Aloysius or, rather, the thing he became?"


    "It''s very simple," Marcus said. "We''re going to kill it."

 Chapter 51: The Vampire Fights

    Chapter 51: The Vampire Fights


    "Kill it?" Faustina blurted incredulously. "You think we can kill it? Because unless I''ve got the numbers wrong, that thing killed seven ancients in a matter of minutes. Counting Claudius, there are twelve of us. I don''t know about you, but those don''t sound like good odds to me."


    Marcus looked around the table. He could hear and see sounds and expressions of agreements. His fists clenched. It would have been easy to call Faustina a coward, but she at least had the excuse of being awful at fighting. She was a brilliant alchemist and researcher, but battle had never been her forte. Yet even the ancients who supposedly specialised in combat were agreeing with her.


    Cowardice.


    It was one of the fundamental sins of vampire kind, right there were treachery and greed.


    Over and over again throughout their history, cowardice had cost them. It had cost them one homeland, but he refused to let it cost them another.


    "So you want to run?" Marcus asked.


    "We could," Aurora said. "It would be the smart thing to do." As a mage, she was used to calculating the odds of victory, used to standing back and making calm, rational assessments about whether or not fighting would be worth it. "Faustina is right. That thing tore through seven ancient in a matter of minutes. We''ll last longer because we''ve got double the numbers, but it''s hard to see us winning."


    "Why not call that dragon friend of yours?" Janus suggested. "He could kill this thing for us."


    There were nods all around the table, and Marcus felt his blood boil. Perhaps he''d spent too much time around dragons and humans.


    "Cowards," he growled. "All of you are cowards."


    "It is not cowardice to flee a fight you cannot win," Claudius replied. "Nor is it cowardice to seek help against a stronger opponent."


    Marcus shook his head. "You don''t see it, do you?" His gaze swept around the table. "Not all of you are old enough to remember, but I was there when we still had a homeland. I was there when my father wiped out the other members of the Council of Five, and I was there when he turned on his own followers and wiped them out too. Do you know what all the survivors did afterward?"


    Silence.


    "They hid. They ran, and they hid. Oh, a few of them spoke of vengeance, but none of them really meant it. None of them had the courage to actually plan against him. I tried. I really did. I approached every vampire I could find who might be willing, but none of them had the courage to join me. Even when my father lost himself completely and became the Fourth Catastrophe, still no one else was willing to fight against him. Even as his folly consumed our homeland, everyone else just ran and hid. That''s why I sought out the dragons. It may have taken them a while to realise what a threat my father was, but when they understood, they didn''t run. They didn''t hide. They fought!"


    "They might have won," Brutus said. "But it cost them. Dragons died facing your father. What chance would we have had?" Brutus was older than Marcus, and one of the few remaining ancients who could trace their descent to another member of the Council of Five. Marcus''s father had been incredibly thorough in annihilating their followers. "Fighting would have gained us nothing."


    "Not fighting cost us everything!" Marcus replied. "Think of what we could have achieved if the survivors had faced my father together. At the very least, we would have been able to slow him down or get earlier warning to the dragons. Instead, by the time the dragons finally fought him, his power had grown vast and terrible. Our homeland had to be destroyed to stop him!"


    "Your ''friend'' did that," Brutus hissed.


    "It was either our homeland or the world," Marcus said. "And I was one of the people who suggested he do it. But it never would have gotten that far if so many of us hadn''t been cowards." He sagged back in his chair. "I''m tired. Aren''t you? I''ve been wandering for so long, looking for a home I''ll never find. But now after all these Ages, we have a second chance, a new home. Do you know how rare it is to get a second chance? Do you know how absurdly lucky we are to have an umbral veil within reach? If we run now, where will we go?"


    Brutus leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his broad chest.


    "You''re old enough to remember the five great courts," Marcus said as he wove an illusion around the room. It was drawn from his memories, and it showed the decadence, opulence, and glory of the five great courts of the vampire homeland. "But look at us now. We''re the greatest of our kind, and this is what passes for court amongst us." He pinned each of them with his gaze. "The Council of Five was horribly flawed, and they were evil, but they had many reasons to be proud and so did we. We were glorious then, a nation, not merely in words but in truth and deed. Now all we can muster are pale imitations of the past and half-remembered stories. I remember when we didn''t have to worry about our fledglings burning in the sun. I remember when elder vampires could walk the streets during the day. This place, here and now, is our chance to have that again. And you would have us run?"


    They looked away, and Marcus''s fists clenched again. He could still remember the look of solemn understanding on Elerion''s face before they''d gone to face Kagami. He''d known he would die fighting her. He''d known, but he''d still gone. Why? Because it had been necessary, because he would never have been able to live with himself if he''d chosen to hide while others fought and died in his name for his nation. If only vampires could have that same courage.


    "I will not run," Marcus said. "I''ve run long enough. No more. If the north is to be my home and my kingdom, then I cannot run. I must defend it with my life if need be." He paused, and his gaze hardened. "Nor will I call upon a dragon to help me. Why should I? What kind of king would I be if I had to call upon my friend for aid whenever something happened? Who could possibly respect such a king? No. A vampire brought about this folly, and so it falls to vampires to deal with it." His gaze softened. "What''s the point of living as long as we do if we spend our whole lives running away whenever things get hard? If we can''t stand our ground when our new homeland is at stake, then when can we? Running running is easy. And it get easier every time you run until eventually all you can do is run and run and run. Fighting fighting is hard, and it''s scary. I don''t care how old you are. That''s always going to be true. But there are times when you run and times when you fight. I''m telling you, here and now, that this is a time to fight."


    Faustina swallowed thickly. "Do do you really think we can win?"


    Marcus bared his teeth. "I''ve been called a fool before, but no one has ever called me suicidal. I''m not saying it''ll be easy, but I think we can win and without any of us dying either."


    "What makes you say that?" Brutus rumbled. The other vampire was even taller than Marcus and built like a bear. Hopefully, Marcus''s words had managed to stir his warrior''s blood.


    "First and foremost, we know what we''re up against." Marcus nodded at Claudius. "Claudius and his fellows didn''t and it cost them. One of them died without even knowing what was happening. Another two died as they tried to retreat and gain distance, and another two died after they hesitated. The remaining two were overwhelmed, but the fact that Claudius is here means they at least did better than the others. In a fight, information and initiative are key. Claudius and his fellows had neither, but we will have both."


    "So you say," Aurora murmured. "But words are wind. What do you intend?"


    Marcus''s eyes gleamed. "An all-out assault. We have powerful mages and one of the best alchemists in the world. We also have several highly skilled warriors. This thing is operating mostly on instinct. It''s not going to be using advanced tactics and strategies. It''s going to see us, and then it''s going to try its best to rip us to pieces. So we hit it hard. Right from the start. The strongest magic we can muster. And then we hold it off as best we can while hitting it with more of that magic and whatever atrocities Faustina can prepare."


    "Your plan is worryingly simplistic," Claudius murmured. "But perhaps simple is best." His brows furrowed, and he stared at the arm he''d regrown. "The others they were good people. They died, so I could live. And yet yet I find myself wishing I could avenge them. We''d known each other for centuries. I counted several of them as friends. To leave that thing unchallenged it does rankle."


    Brutus chuckled. "I have been searching for a worthy opponent. I can''t think of too many more worthy than the thing we''ll be fighting."


    Janus made a face. "I might also have been holding out on you"


    "Oh?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that?"


    "You know how my teleportation takes a while to use?" Janus said. "Well there is a way to make it go faster. It''ll only work once per day on each person, but I''ll be able to snatch you out of battle and pull you to my location."


    Marcus''s eyes widened. "That would basically give everybody a second chance in a fight."


    Janus nodded. "Yes. I was keeping it a secret since, you know, we all have secrets, but if we''re going to be fighting this thing, then I can''t really keep it a secret anymore, now can I?"


    Marcus grinned. "That''s the spirit." He banged his fist on the table. "We can win. If we fight this thing together, we can win and we can all go home in one piece. But we can''t hold back. We need to use everything we have." He took a deep breath. "You have an hour to prepare. If you have any treasures you haven''t used yet, any abilities you''re concealing, or any magic that you''re saving for a rainy day, now is the time."


    Marcus went straight to his chambers to prepare. He might not be able to lug around as much stuff as Doomwing, but he had access to storage spells and various forms of storage equipment. And although he had tried to use as little extra equipment as possible to make a better impression on his followers nobody thought highly of someone who relied solely on excellent equipment to fight now was not the time to hold back.


    The very first thing he called out of storage was an ornate set of black plate armour. Its pristine appearance was a testament to its quality since it had spent centuries underwater. It had belonged to an enemy of his father, and his father had decided that killing his opponent was too easy. Instead, he had trapped him in the armour, disabled its abilities, and then paralysed him with magic before flinging him into the sea.


    His father''s enemy had sunk all the way to the bottom of the ocean. There, trapped by magic and the crushing weight of the ocean, he had slowly starved to death. He''d been an ancient, so starvation would have taken centuries centuries alone in the cold dark of the ocean floor. Marcus had eventually found him with the help of some generously paid merfolk.


    The other vampire had already been dead, but the armour had been completely intact. Marcus had disposed of the body in accordance with vampire traditions and had claimed the armour for himself after dispelling the magic his father had used to disable its abilities. Unfortunately, he hadn''t counted on just how deep the bond between the armour and its original master had been.


    To put it simply, the armour was haunted. It wasn''t the actual ghost of its previous bearer. Instead, it was an echo, a sort of spiritual resonance that plagued whoever donned the armour, subjecting them to the madness and ravings of its previous owner. And there had been plenty of madness and ravings over the long centuries of slow starvation.


    But even so, the armour was worth it. It was umbral armour armour that allowed the wearer to use potent shadow magic. There were very, very few people who could build armour like this left, and there were very, very few people who had the materials required. Marcus certainly didn''t. Despite being haunted, the armour also retained its ability to adjust to new wearers, so Marcus didn''t even have to worry about getting it adjusted not that any dwarf would go within a hundred yards of the thing.


    As he began to put the armour on, Faustina bustled into the room. She hadn''t bothered to knock, and he could feel her anger without even turning.


    "A pretty speech isn''t going to save us from that thing," Faustina said. "You might have won over the others, but I know you. You''ve always been good at giving inspiring speeches. It''s one of your few redeeming features."


    "If you''re here to scold me, help me put this on." Marcus handed her pieces of the armour.


    "Wait is this haunted?" Faustina cast a spell. "It is haunted! You''re going to wear haunted armour into battle! Are you insane?"


    "It''s umbral armour, and it''s only a little bit haunted." Marcus donned the helmet. Already, he could hear the voice of the armour''s former owner cursing him as the son of his murderer. However, it wasn''t anything he hadn''t heard before. "Faustina, I meant what I said. If we hit it hard and fast with everything we''ve got, I think we can beat it. This thing will only grow stronger the longer we leave. This is the weakest it will ever be, so we need to strike now." He turned. "I''ll be counting on you. All of the weapons, concoctions, and bits and pieces you''ve got for fighting ancient vampires, bring them. All of them."


    "Damn it." Faustina huffed. "You''re not really giving me much of a choice here."


    Marcus sighed. "We don''t have much of a choice, not really. But if things go poorly, I will give the order to retreat, and I will be the one to cover the retreat. That''s the least I can do." He put one hand on her cheek. "I''m not going to put you on the front lines. We both know you''re terrible at fighting. But your support will be essential. I can''t do this alone."


    Faustina''s lips curled and she shoved his hand away. "If I die, I am going to haunt you forever. I hope you know that."


    "I wouldn''t expect anything less." Marcus reached for a dozen daggers made of obsidian. "Now, grab whatever you need, and don''t forget to bring plenty of blood. I''m sure we''ll be needing it."


    Marcus led the others through the whirling snow. They moved as swiftly as only ancients could, their presence obscured by magic as they made their way toward Aloysius''s camp. They stopped on a hill overlooking the camp, and Marcus motioned for Quintus to get to work.


    The bespectacled vampire nodded and cast a subtle but powerful scrying spell over the area. Aloysius might have been able to detect it if he''d been in his right mind, but the monster he''d become was unlikely to notice anything short of a direct attack.


    "It''s big," Quintus said. "You can''t see it through all the snow, but it has to be at least thirty feet tall, maybe a little more."


    Marcus nodded grimly. "Everyone in the camp has probably been turned into an infected husk under its control or has been converted into more flesh for its body."


    The others looked a bit queasy at that.


    "How many infected?" Marcus asked. The snows here were thick and laden with magic. Even for a vampire, seeing through them wasn''t easy without using magic.


    "At least a hundred." Quintus paused. "Do we have to worry about them wandering off?"


    "If we kill that thing, they should die too. They''re not proper vampires. A blizzard like this will probably kill them off too, which is why we haven''t seen any wandering around. That thing will likely wait until the blizzard stops before sending them out." Marcus chuckled mirthlessly. "And before you ask, it''s not really intelligent. That''s the kind of thing it probably learned through trial and error."


    "So what now?" Aurora asked. She had the most powerful attack magic of any of them.


    "Now, we split up." Marcus motioned to Brutus, Felix, and Julian. "The four of us are the best at close combat. Once we begin our attack, we''ll move in and keep it occupied. Our objective isn''t necessarily to kill it it''s to keep it from going after our mages and ranged support who will be doing most of the damage. I shouldn''t have to say this, but stay sharp. That thing is big, strong, and fast. Evade attacks whenever possible. Do not get into a contest of strength because you are going to lose."


    Marcus nodded at the others. "Aurora and Vespera, I want you two on that hill over there. When I give the signal, hit it with the biggest spell you have. At the very least, that should injure it and wipe out the infected around it. After that, attack as opportunity permits, but warn us first. I don''t want us getting caught up in your attacks. Janus, since you''re the one who can teleport people out of battle, I want you to stay here with Quintus. He''ll be running communication and scrying magic for everybody, and he''ll make sure you can see the whole battlefield. Claudius and Faustina, I want you to trail me and the others into battle. Focus on disabling and binding it. Do not engage it directly. Allow us to fight it. Cecilia, I want you on that hill over there, and I want you, Cornelius, over there."


    "Get up," Marcus shouted to Brutus. "Come on, you big ox! Get up!"


    "Urgh" The other vampire stumbled to his feet. "Damn it. This thing is tough."


    Felix leapt again, twisting and driving his spear into the monster''s head only to have to yank it free and flip end over end through the air to keep from being torn limb from limb by a wave of gnashing teeth and clawing scythes.


    "Keep hitting it," Marcus shouted. "Don''t let up."


    And yet, as the fight went on, Marcus realised that they were losing. They simply couldn''t do enough damage, and with Janus out of the fight, any hit could be their last. Aurora was no longer able to attack freely either. The monster had realised the threat she posed, and it was taking everything Marcus and the others had to keep it from reaching her. Worse, the abomination was pelting both Cecilia and Cornelius with a seemingly endless barrage of bone shards and corrupted flesh. The pair had no choice but to keep on the move, lest they be overrun, and that kept them from using their most potent attacks.


    "Marcus" Faustina grabbed his arm. She had hit the creature with bottle after bottle of her concoctions, but even they couldn''t do more than slow it down. "We''re losing."


    "I know." He took a deep breath. There was one last card he could play. He wasn''t looking forward to it, but "Faustina, you brought that potion, right? The one you''ve been working on for me?"


    "The enhancement potion?" She nodded. "Yes, but" Her eyes widened. "You''re actually going to use it."


    "Well, it''s not like we''re going to win if we keep doing this."


    Brutus had lost an arm, but he was fighting gamely on with his remaining arm. Julius, though, had yet to re-enter the battle. He never had been the quickest regenerator or healer. Even Felix, usually so swift and nimble, had begun to slow down, exhaustion beginning to creep up on him as the monster grew more used to his attacks and began to overwhelm him with its extra limbs.


    "Fine. But you won''t have long, maybe fifteen seconds."


    "Fifteen seconds? That''ll have to be enough." Marcus reached for the potion. "Wish me luck."


    He downed the potion in one big gulp, and his whole body was suddenly consumed by a maelstrom of power. His jaw clenched so hard he was afraid his teeth would break, and his muscles tightened until he feared they would burst. It was too much power, too much speed, too much everything.


    That was why they hadn''t all just downed some of this potion and why Faustina considered the potion a failure. It enhanced the body to such a degree that it was no longer possible for a person to properly control themselves. All of that strength, that speed, everything none of it mattered since the person would be unable to use it properly.


    Unless they were someone with the right kind of mind magic who also happened to have a mastery of blood magic.


    In other words, whoever drank it needed a very unique skillset a skillset that Marcus had. Even as his body threatened to lurch out of his control, he layered on spell after spell and rune after rune of perceptual enhancement until he could finally finally take proper control of his body. But even that wasn''t enough. To really get the most out of the enhancement, he had to use his blood magic to essentially puppet his own body because it was now capable of moving in ways that would normally have been impossible even for him.


    As his perceptual enhancement and blood magic came into effect, the world seemed to slow down until it was completely still and in perfect focus.


    He lifted his hand and clenched his fist. Strength beyond what he''d ever known filled him. Around him, the others were moving in slow motion, and the supernaturally swift motions of the abomination were finally not only readily visible but actually predictable. Marcus took the daggers he''d brought along with him and flung them around. Even with the potion, he''d need them to make this work.


    In his hands, his sword began to shake. All of the power he''d stored in it since the Sixth Catastrophe all of that energy was being dumped into it now to make it as sharp and deadly as possible. He could last fifteen seconds before the potion wore off or his body failed under the strain. At the rate he was burning through it, the energy stored in the sword would last roughly that long too.


    He took a single breath and then dropped into the shadows at his feet. He reappeared over the monster that had once been Aloysius and brought his sword down with all the strength he could muster. The blade cleaved through the abomination''s flesh, sending a torrent of gore bursting upward. It reached for him with countless twisted limbs, but he was no longer there. Instead, he was beneath the beast, carried there by the shadows as he lashed out again, carving a matching furrow into its underbelly.


    It bellowed in pain and fury, and Marcus sank back into the shadows before reappearing and striking once more. Over and over again, he vanished into the shadows, only to re-emerge, unleashing a dozen strikes and then more than a hundred in the span of a few seconds. It was more than he could ever have managed without the potion, and the insults from the armour''s former wearer grew into a warped cacophony as time stretched, each moment turning into an eternity.


    But the monster had caught on. Spears of blood stabbed into the shadows as it finally overcame the effects of the concoction Faustina had used on it earlier. And now, Marcus called on the daggers. It was a simple idea, really. Blood magic could be used to push and pull blood toward the user. That was the simplest and easiest way to use blood to attack. But with enough practice, the opposite could be done the user could be pulled or pushed toward blood. And on those daggers was Marcus''s own blood, as solid an anchor as he could ask for.


    His blood magic roared to life, yanking him out of the way of attack after attack as he continued his frenzied assault on the horror before him. Again and again, he hit it, but it refused to go down, its massive form bearing down on him with impossible speed, its barrage of bone, blood, and flesh threatening to cut off all his avenues of retreat.


    Fine.


    If Marcus couldn''t dodge, then he would do the next best thing. He would take whatever blows weren''t fatal and try to dish out more damage in return.


    He lost his left arm, the armour not durable enough to withstand a full-blooded strike from the creature at close range. He ignored the pain and brought his sword down on the closest tentacle and it didn''t grow back. His eyes widened. Had they finally reached the limits of its regeneration


    The potion wore off.


    Time returned to normal, and weakness flooded his limbs.


    "Marcus!" He stumbled back, blood flowing from one shoulder. His mind was wrapped in fog, and Faustina''s voice seemed to be coming from far away.


    Claudius''s magic rippled to life around the creature, and chains of magic coiled around its body. It struggled, but it was no longer able to break free so easily. An arrow thudded into its side before exploding. Above them, the blizzard parted as colossal bolts of lightning rained down on the suddenly immobile monstrosity.


    "Keep hitting it," Marcus slurred as he tightened his hold on his sword.


    Another mountain of flame enveloped the beast, sending him tumbling headlong through puddles of melted snow that soon gave way to stretches of scorched and smouldering earth. He stumbled to his feet and shambled forward. The creature was trying to flee now, trying to escape before the others could resume their attacks. Brutus tried to halt it and was sent flying by a flick of a huge, barbed limb. Felix managed to stab it through the throat, but its gnashing teeth forced him to relinquish his weapon, and then a blow from one of the abomination''s limbs sent him tumbling back, ripped in half.


    "Go to them," Marcus shouted, scarcely aware of what he was saying as he dragged himself forward. Quintus was there, entering the battle at last in a desperate bid to keep their opponent from escaping. His glasses cracked as a blow sent him tumbling away, but he had delayed the monster that had been Aloysius long enough for the group''s three ranged attackers to unleash their next attacks.


    The abomination stumbled, landing awkwardly on its side, as its many legs scrabbled at the earth in a bid to keep it moving. Claudius was bleeding from his eyes and mouth as he used another binding spell, hauling the creature back down as Marcus continued to stumble forward. Chunks of the horror''s flesh were sloughing off, and they were no longer regenerating.


    Ahead of him, barely visible through the creature''s twisted ribcage was its heart. Marcus staggered forward, sword raised and was promptly impaled in the stomach and chest. He spat blood. He''d managed to dodge just far enough at the last moment to keep his heart intact. His sword shook in his hand as he called up the last dregs of power he had, forming a rune of true death around it and


    Suddenly he was standing in a place of mist and silence.


    What what was going on?


    Was was he dead?


    And then from the depths of the mist came his opponent. Its many mouths bayed and roared, but no sound reached him.


    His eyes widened. This this must be an astral attack. It must have realised that he was about to kill it and launched a last ditch, instinctive astral attack. Marcus braced himself to meet the monster only for another figure to emerge from the mist. It was him but not him. No. It was the parasite inside him.


    It turned to him and smiled before launching itself at the creature. Here, size meant little, and the abomination skidded to a halt.


    His parasite glanced over its shoulder at him and spoke. Even if he couldn''t hear the words, Marcus could still read its lips.


    Go. Finish this. I''ll see you later.


    And then


    And then he was back in the snow, impaled by the horror''s claws. He raised his arm, the rune of true death finishing around his sword, and then he drove his weapon forward. It pierced deep into the abomination''s heart, and he twisted it savagely before jerking it from side to side as the rune of true death took effect.


    Marcus slid off the monster''s claws as it toppled to the ground with a final, ponderous groan before finally going still.


    "Marcus!"


    He looked up. Faustina was there.


    "Marcus?"


    "I''m I''m fine." He waved in the general direction of their opponent. "Make sure it''s dead."


    "I" Faustina jerked back. "It''s disintegrating."


    Marcus blearily shifted his body until he could see it. She was right. The monster was disintegrating, its flesh turning to ash as its blood boiled away.


    "Keep an eye on," Marcus ordered. "If it moves, blast it." He groaned as Faustina helped him to sit up before pouring a gourd of blood into his mouth, along with a healing potion. When his wounds still refused to close, she slid her wrist along the edge of his sword before offering it to him. He tried to refuse, but the smell was too strong. He latched onto her wrist and drank, her ancient blood flowing through him in tides of strength and vigour.


    "The others?" he gasped as he pulled away. "What about them?"


    "Alive," Claudius said. "Some of them barely, but still, they''re alive."


    "Go to them." Marcus motioned vaguely. "See to them. I''ll live. See to them."


    As Claudius left, Marcus allowed himself to smile.


    "Hah!" He laughed. "We did it."


    Faustina looked at him, and apart from the usual affection mixed with exasperation, there was awe in her gaze.


    It was something he would see in the others when he was finally well enough to get up and meet them.


    A week later, the remaining factions surrendered to him.


    Marcus was officially a king.

 Chapter 52: The Dragons Build A Lair

    Chapter 52: The Dragons Build A Lair


    Nobody was perfect. Doomwing had learned that the hard way. Focusing on one thing meant neglecting something else. Time spent learning magic was time he couldn''t spend improving his skills in close combat. Of course, there were tricks, ways to shift the odds in his favour. Doppelgangers and constructs could be used to split his attention and effectively multiply his time. Dream walking could be used to make even the time he spent sleeping productive.


    However, there were things that no amount of ingenuity could overcome. Magical affinities were a prime example of that. For all of Doomwing''s magical prowess, he was not equally gifted in all types of magic. He was predisposed toward certain types of magic, both due to being a nova dragon and due to more idiosyncratic quirks.


    Yes, he could and had beaten people in the past while using magic for which they had a stronger affinity than him. However, those victories were predicated on two conditions: either his opponent was lazier than him or less powerful than him.


    Lazy opponents could be beaten with their own magic because they knew less about it than him and had less experience with it. Their stronger affinity meant nothing if they didn''t have the knowledge and experience to make use of it. He''d lost count of how many opponents he''d beaten over the years due to his greater knowledge and more thorough practice regime. Many of those opponents had been other dragons who simply hadn''t been able to believe that he could beat them with their own magic despite not specialising in it.


    The smarter ones handled their defeats with grace and used them as motivation to work harder and study more. Those were the ones who improved and Awakened further. The stupider ones blamed their losses on bad luck or some sort of trick on his part, as if study and practice were forms of deception. Those were the ones who stagnated, often failing to Awaken further or falling in battle against the Catastrophes since their skills failed to match their courage. Still, he''d give them credit for being willing to help. They might not have been smart, but their bravery was still worthy of praise.


    Power was another matter. Some of his opponents over the years had been exquisitely skilled, but it hadn''t mattered at all due to the overwhelming disparity in power between them. He could remember one particularly determined storm drake that he''d met. The drake had been a master of weaving lightning and controlling the winds and rain to his advantage. Unfortunately, he''d been a quarter of Doomwing''s size and had possessed perhaps a tenth of his magical power.


    Despite his greater skill, Doomwing had overwhelmed the storm drake with raw power, seizing control of the storm from him and unleashing bolts of lightning that had dwarfed the smaller reptile''s. It would have been easy to kill him, but he had managed to win Doomwing''s respect. In the end, he had let him go and suggested he steer clear of him in the future because he would not be so merciful a second time.


    To his credit, the storm drake had taken his words to heart, and they had never crossed paths again although he had eventually found his way into Stormbringer''s service. He had died an Age ago, having Ascended further than any storm drake Doomwing knew of. Stormbringer was hopeful that at least one of his descendants would manage to go one step further and reach the drake equivalent of a Fourth Awakening.


    The most troublesome opponents to face with their own magic were people who not only had a strong affinity for a particular kind of magic but who were also knowledgeable, hardworking, and powerful. Such individuals were true masters of their magic, and Doomwing knew better than to face them using their own magic. Instead, he would draw upon the breadth of his skills, bringing to bear magic that was designed to defeat them.


    Ashheart was one such person.


    His friend possessed an overwhelmingly strong affinity for volcanic magic, as well as fire and earth magic. He also possessed raw power befitting his titanic stature. And although Ashheart had never been the most studious individual, he loved to learn more about his powers and how they interacted with the world around him. He had an almost childlike curiosity, and Doomwing had often found him happily fiddling with some small, subtle aspect of his power that would later prove incredibly useful.


    Ashheart did that not out of any specific desire to plumb the mysteries of magic. No. He did that because it was fun and because he loved learning more about his powers and what they could do. It was amusing to see a gigantic dragon hunched over a small pool of lava, his attention focused on some miniscule effect that most would have considered barely worthy of notice. It became considerably less amusing and more awe inspiring when that same dragon used that same seemingly miniscule effect on a larger scale to produce effects that Doomwing would never be able to recreate using the same method.


    So when it came to altering the terrain around them, Doomwing was content to stay out of the way and let Ashheart work.


    Rather than stay airborne, Ashheart preferred to be on the ground, as close to the changes as possible. His mighty frame grew taut as he bent not only the crater but the entire landscape around it to his will. The volcanic glow within him grew brighter, and his eyes blazed like twin infernos.


    Doomwing reached out with his senses, and a slow smile crossed his lips.


    Ashheart was impressive as ever.


    Beneath them, the other dragon was carving out a massive cavern and filling it with magma. It was a roughly spherical space more than ten miles in diameter, and it was still growing. The magma that filled it was torn up from the very depths of the world, pulled from an even vaster reservoir that lurked far, far beneath them.


    Apart from the central chamber, Ashheart was making other chambers. These were not being filled with lava. Instead, he was weaving magic to keep lava out of them. They would probably serve as chambers to hold his hoard or as rooms for he and his family to rest in. Having to travel through an underground sea of lava would make his hoard and family virtually impossible to reach for anyone who wasn''t a dragon or some kind of subterranean monster. If Ashheart wanted to put things in his hoard or take them out, he could always manipulate the earth or use protective magic to carry things through the magma, and his family should have no problems traversing the magma.


    But Ashheart wasn''t done yet. Simply having a hole in the ground full of lava was hardly befitting a dragon of his stature. Instead, he heaved up the edges of the crater to form a shield volcano. The vast lake full of lava that filled the massive crater served as the entry point to his lair, with the lake extending down through the rock until it met the underground sea of magma below.


    Not far away, both Adamantheart and Diamondfang were watching in awe. They could both sense what was taking place, and it was likely that neither of them had ever seen anyone manipulate the ground like this before. In the entire world, Doomwing could think of only one person capable of something similar.


    Quakeclaw was a primordial chthonic dragon the highest form of earth dragon and he might have been able to match the sheer amount of rock, earth, and stone that Ashheart was moving. But not even he could have manipulated so much lava.


    As Ashheart finished crafting the bones of his lair, he turned his attention to the currents of magic beneath and around them. He gave a low rumbling laugh and then turned to Doomwing.


    "You made quite a mess of the currents of magic, my friend."


    Doomwing shrugged. "Had I managed to trap the Sixth Catastrophe, I would have made an even bigger mess. On the upside, I would have been able to win without taking a spear of god-metal to the chest."


    "A fine trade," Ashheart said. "Work with me. It will be easier if we work together, and you will be able to weave your defences into the currents of magic."


    Doomwing allowed himself to descend until he landed on the slopes of the volcano Ashheart had made. Staying airborne while manipulating the currents of magic would be almost impossible, especially if he intended to devote his full effort to them and he was not about to cut any corners when it came to his friend''s lair.


    He closed his eyes and extended his senses as Ashheart did the same.


    His friend''s presence in the world of magic was like a volcano on the verge of erupting, a font of tremendous power kept in check by his unshakable will and determination. As Doomwing reached for the closest current of magic, that will and determination expanded, enveloping the entire area. Doomwing was incredibly skilled at manipulating the currents of magic, and he was capable of far finer control over them than any other dragon. But when it came to shifting currents of magic rich with the power of earth, fire, and the molten heart of the world, nobody came close to Ashheart.


    The entire region''s currents shifted as Ashheart bent his will to fixing the damage Doomwing had done and sculpting the currents to best serve his lair and it surroundings. At the same time, Doomwing made minor tweaks and adjustments, honing the larger, rougher movements that Ashheart excelled in. At the same time, he began to weave potent magical defences into Ashheart''s lair and the area around it.


    Nobody would be able to sneak up on him, whether by air, on the ground, or even underground. The lair would be shielded using power drawn from the multitude of magical currents that flowed through and around it. Combined with the magic Ashheart had woven into his lair that would reinforce it when under attack, it should virtually invulnerable to aerial bombardment or underground assault.


    Anyone hoping to attack Ashheart would have no choice but to dive into the lava and face him and that was really just a complicated way of committing suicide because Doomwing doubted there was a person alive who could face Ashheart in a sea of magma and hope to prevail.


    If Doomwing wanted to attack Ashheart''s lair, he would have to sabotage the currents of magic in the area before calling upon some of his strongest runes and spells to blast the volcano apart and lay bare the sea of magma beneath. It would not be easy, even for him, and if Ashheart chose to retreat deeper into the magma, Doomwing would be hard pressed to draw him out unless he was willing to call upon power the likes of which had laid waste the homeland of the vampires and wounded Mother Tree.


    And that was the point.


    A dragon''s lair should be their fortress, their place of ultimate safety and security.


    Doomwing''s volcano might have stood alone, but it commanded an excellent view of every possible avenue of approach. With all of its defences and detection magic, it would be able to weather the might of even another primordial dragon while giving him ample time to attack his foes before they could even reach him. He was confident that in a long-range battle, he would emerge victorious. He had multiple ways of attacking targets who were further than his eyes could see. Few knew just how capable he was in that regard because virtually everyone who''d seen those abilities was dead.


    Ashheart''s lair would be the same an impregnable fortress where his friend could relax, secure in the knowledge that he, his family, and his hoard were safe. Only a fool would ever lay siege to this place, and such a fool would perish the moment Ashheart chose to retaliate.


    When Doomwing next opened his eyes, it was well past dusk. However, there was no shortage of light, as the orange glow of lava lit up the night. He took a few moments to stretch, extending his senses once again to make sure that all was well. He nodded in satisfaction. The currents of magic were exactly as he and Ashheart had discussed, and the magical defences he''d woven into them were all in place and functioning properly.


    Not far away, Ashheart shook himself, the volcano trembling in response. "That went quickly."


    "More hands make light work," Doomwing remarked. "And this area was yours up until your wounding. It is not surprising that it responded so eagerly to your touch."


    In another chamber, Ashheart was happy to boast about another prize. "This? It''s the skull of the largest fire titan I''ve ever fought. The Fourth Catastrophe managed to turn him into a zombie, and let me tell you, that was an interesting fight. He was tough, I''ll say that, but in the end I slew him."


    "Is it safe to keep around?" Adamantheart asked. "I''ve heard that powerful zombies can haunt those who keep their remains."


    "I had it purified," Ashheart said. "It is no longer tainted."


    It took them some time to finish setting up Ashheart''s hoard and for Doomwing to give and explains his gifts, like the communication-stone. However, they still had to deal with the hoards of Diamondfang and Adamantheart. When they were finally done, Doomwing was about to retire to another chamber to rest when Ashheart asked him a question.


    "You have mentioned your doppelgangers. They seem to be quite useful. Would you be able to teach me how to make some?" Ashheart asked.


    Doomwing considered the question carefully before shaking his head. "I''m afraid not. The magic involved is very complicated. At present, I don''t know if anyone except me could make them. However, I am working on simplifying the process, and I will let you know if I succeed. In the meantime, have you considered forming a pact with some elementals? They can tend to your hoard and perform a variety of tasks in exchange for being allowed to gather power from your lair."


    "Elementals? Hmm" Ashheart nodded slowly. "I have not given much thought to them since I generally prefer to fight on my own without relying on summoned creatures to aid me. But perhaps it is time to change that. Certainly, it cannot hurt to have a few under my command, if only to watch over things here in my absence."


    "I can give you a book about how to form the relevant contracts," Doomwing said. "I would recommend starting with weaker or middling elementals."


    "Oh? Why not the stronger ones?"


    "The stronger ones tend to be prideful and uncooperative. They often hold themselves above their summoners even when that summoner is a primordial dragon. The weaker and middling elementals tend to be more respectful, and they can become quite loyal over time if you help them to further their power."


    "I see." Ashheart glanced back to where Diamondfang had already curled up, her gleaming, jewel-like scales shimmering in the lava light. "It has been a long day. Some rest would be good, and we can tidy up tomorrow."


    Doomwing turned. "In the morning then."


    Morning found Doomwing back on the surface with Ashheart. There was a bit of tidying up to do in and around the volcano, but nothing too big. Adamantheart and Diamondfang were both basking on the slopes of the volcano, savouring the morning sun and drawing deeply from the power around them.


    However, Doomwing''s attention was soon drawn to the horizon where a large group of dragons was approaching. He turned to Ashheart. "Nine dragons, all of them familiar."


    "Oh?" Ashheart reached out with his own senses. "Ah." He hit his tail upon the ground, and Adamantheart and Diamondfang stirred from their meditation. "We must greet our guests," Ashheart said.


    The dragons reached them and landed a respectful distance away. At the head of them was a male dragon who had already experienced his Third Awakening. He belonged to the volcanic dragon lineage, much like Ashheart, and the resemblance between them in size, build, and bearing was plain.


    "Father," the dragon rumbled. "It is good to see you well. I had planned to visit, but my territory came under attack."


    Ashheart bared his teeth in a smile. "Lavatide I trust you dealt with the attack."


    Lavatide puffed out his chest. "My enemy fled before me with many wounds. It will be decades before he has the courage to try again."


    "Did you slay him?" Doomwing asked.


    Lavatide shook his head. "He issued his challenge fairly and openly in accordance with the old ways. We have faced each other in the past, and our battles have always been honourable. There was no need to slay him."


    Doomwing nodded in approval, and Lavatide smiled broadly. They were not so many that they could afford to go around killing each other over every challenge. Besides, an honourable dragon who challenged openly and fairly was precisely the sort of dragon they wanted alive. Moreover, should Lavatide lose the next time they fought, he could expect his mercy to be returned. "Good."


    Ashheart''s gaze went to the female dragon behind Lavatide. Like him, she was a tectonic dragon although she had been born toward the end of the Second Age rather than during the First Age like Ashheart. "Cinderhowl. Are you well?"


    Beside Ashheart, Diamondfang bristled. Cinderhowl noticed, and the female tectonic dragon gave the younger dragon an amused look. She and Ashheart''s had been mates for a time before going their separate ways. However, they had parted on good terms, and they both cared deeply for their son, Lavatide. There were those who mated for life whilst others stayed together for a time before parting, usually after their hatchlings had reached their First or Second Awakening.


    "I am well. And you?" she asked.


    "As strong as ever," Ashheart said. He flared his wings and called up his magic. The ground beneath them shook, and the lava behind them bubbled furiously before shooting up into the air.


    "That is good." Cinderhowl looked past him to Diamondfang. "Calm yourself. Ashheart and I were mates long ago, but no longer. However, we parted well, so we remain friends." Her attention shifted to Adamantheart. "He takes after you, Ashheart, despite the obvious differences."


    "He is my son," Ashheart replied. He looked between Adamantheart and Lavatide. "You two are brothers. I expect you to treat each other accordingly."


    Doomwing bit back a laugh as the two regarded each other awkwardly. From memory, they had never met before since Cinderhowl''s domain was a reasonable distance away, and Lavatide had chosen to spend most of his time there, perhaps because the volcano where his mother lived was particularly agreeable to his magic. Still, Ashheart had visited him regularly, and he had never hesitated to pass on resources or knowledge that could help him.


    "I have my hoard again," Ashheart said to Lavatide. "If there is anything within it that can help you toward your Fourth Awakening, you need only ask."


    "Thank you, father." Lavatide inclined his head. "I do not think it will be long before I make an attempt." He glanced at Doomwing. "Although"


    "I will offer what advice I can," Doomwing said. He was not as familiar with Lavatide as Adamantheart, if only because he had been less involved in raising him. Even so, he was Ashheart''s son, and that entitled him to no small amount of leeway.


    "I will compensate you," Lavatide said before continuing quickly. "I know of the friendship between you and my father, but I am no hatchling, and my wealth is respectable. Allow me to offer compensation."


    Ashheart nodded in approval, and Doomwing did the same.


    "By all means," Doomwing replied. "But we can discuss that later. As for the rest of you"


    The other dragons came forward. He recognised them as former followers of Ashheart. They had gone their separate ways after Ashheart''s wounding, but they had still checked in on Diamondfang and Adamantheart from time to time. They were all brave, honourable, and mighty warriors in their own right, largely taking after Ashheart in their attitudes and dispositions. They had returned to pledge their loyalty once again, and Ashheart was happy to accept them after he was certain they had upheld their other oaths and had not neglected the duties he had given them before his wounding.


    With the work on Ashheart''s lair done and with his friend speaking with not only to his followers but also to his mate, his sons, and his former mate, Doomwing decided it was time to take his leave. Seeing Ashheart like this put whatever lingering doubts he had to rest. His friend was at full strength, and he once again had followers ready to serve him. Besides, he knew Cinderhowl well enough to recognise the gleam in her eyes. She had no real interest in Ashheart anymore, outside of their friendship, but she was undoubtedly going to tease Diamondfang a bit, if only to see how she would respond. Given her personality, nothing would please Cinderhowl more than for Diamondfang to threaten to tear her throat out despite the disparity in power.


    Doomwing had no intentions of being around when that happened although it was strangely heartwarming to see Lavatide and Adamantheart discussing some of their most recent hunts. He bid them farewell and set off toward his next destination with Ashheart promising to visit Doomwing''s realm when he had finished settling in and handling his own affairs.


    As Doomwing flew he reached out to inform Firetail, and the drake seemed oddly amused. Doomwing also heard some strange noises in the background, but he dismissed those as a few hatchlings mucking around. It wasn''t unusual for the drake to keep an eye on some of the younger dragons.

 Chapter 53: The Dragons Soar

    Chapter 53: The Dragons Soar


    "Doomwing has been sighted over the ocean," Firetail said.


    Regal Flame turned away from the book she was reading. It was a tome from the First Age a work of philosophy written by one of the First Gods. Despite their divine nature, the First Gods had spent much of their time contemplating matters of life and death.


    Had they known what would happen to them? If so, they had faced their ends with stoic determination, choosing to die on their feet rather than cower. However, true foresight was an exceptionally rare ability, and everything she knew suggested that even the First Gods could not have known with absolute certainty what lay ahead of them. Mother Tree herself had often spoken of the futility of relying on precognition.


    The very act of seeking to know the future could change that future, and the ripples spread by precognition grew larger and larger the further ahead someone looked. The closest that Regal Flame had ever seen to true precognition was Dreamsong''s ability to read the currents of the deep dreaming. Supposedly, time and other such rules were less rigid in the very depths of that phantasmal realm. However, even Dreamsong had emphasised that such attempts were finicky at best.


    What she saw were possibilities, and there was often no way to know which of those possibilities was the most likely.


    The First Gods had believed strongly in the concept of fate or destiny. Yet, paradoxically, they had also believed in the concept of personal choice and freedom. Personally, Regal Flame believed that there were varying levels of freedom. A cow confronted by a dragon had little in the way of personal choice or freedom. Its destiny was to die. But a dragon, especially one as powerful as her, had a great deal of personal choice and freedom and with those came the burden of honour.


    Honour could be found in facing the inevitable with courage and dignity and in making choices commensurate with a certain way of life.


    A normal human confronted by a monster was destined to die, yet they could choose to flee in a hopeless bid to prolong their life for a few seconds or they could meet their end with courage and stand their ground, knowing that their death would buy their family a few more seconds of life and a miniscule chance of escape. That was honourable, for even the inevitable could be greeted in different ways.


    A primordial dragon could choose to slaughter those weaker than themselves, to devour their hearts and flesh without cease, to leave nothing but a barren wasteland behind in their relentless pursuit of power or they could take only what they needed from their surroundings, slaying only those capable of facing them in battle and ensuring that they did not reduce their surroundings to lands of emptiness and ruin. There was a choice to be made there, and true honour could not be found in both paths.


    "He is not concealing himself?" Regal Flame murmured.


    Firetail shook his head. The wizened drake might no longer be able to fly well or fight at her side, but his mind was as keen as ever. "He made no effort to conceal himself from our patrols."


    "I see."


    Concealment was a matter of course for most primordial dragons. It was easier than having to fight every foolish young dragon or uppity kraken that was eager to prove themselves or win fame. It was more merciful too since even a light blow from her ilk could prove deadly.


    To help maintain order in her territory and to ensure that her followers were well trained, it was customary for her followers to fly regular patrols. Pairing an older dragon and a younger dragon gave the younger reptile a chance to learn from someone with centuries more experience. It also gave the younger dragon a chance to test themselves against random intruders beneath the watchful gaze of a dragon who would know when to fight and when to retreat.


    Doomwing was most likely revealing himself as a courtesy. Had he wanted, she doubted that any of her normal patrols would have been able to detect him if he truly wished to conceal himself. Stealth magic of the highest order was exceedingly difficult to penetrate without prior warning or detection magic of similar calibre. Instead, he would only have to be concerned about detection once he got closer and breached the defensive magic around her domain.


    Had he concealed himself, her patrols would have been left shamefaced at their failure despite the fact that no one could have reasonably expected them to succeed. There would be recriminations, pledges to do better, and most likely pleas for him to repeat his entrance to see if they could catch him.


    Ah. Perhaps that was it. It would be very much like Doomwing to reveal himself now, so there would be no reason for them to badger him later. He would thus kill two birds with one stone: offering her courtesy befitting her position and avoiding future aggravation.


    "Perhaps perhaps I shall go out and meet him."


    Firetail blinked. "My lady?"Thi/s chapter is updated by


    "Yes." Regal Flame nodded. "They say he is healed, but I wish to see for myself." She bared her teeth. "Besides, I am reminded of advice my father gave me."


    "Your father?" Firetail bowed his head. Like all her followers, he held her father in the highest esteem despite never having met him. "What did he say?"


    "He said" Regal Flame took a deep breath, and for a moment, she was once again a hatchling, staring up at her father''s impossibly huge form. She had never imagined he could lose a fight, never mind perish, and she had hung upon his every word as though it had come straight from the First Gods themselves. "Cowardice can be contagious. If I wish to be bold in this matter, then I must be bold from the outset."


    Firetail bit back a chuckle. "I I am not entirely sure that your esteemed father was speaking about matters such as this, but I do not think he was wrong either. Go. I shall finish preparations in your absence."


    She nudged him gently with her head. "As always, you are most reliable, old friend."


    And then she took wing, a crimson titan streaking through the air more swiftly than any bird.


    Doomwing flew just quickly enough to leave the patrols behind. He had no desire for an escort, and they were not so foolish as to pursue him while using magic to aid their speed. He was not using any magic to enhance his speed, but he still doubted that any of them could match him. And if he chose to use magic? There were very, very, very few creatures in the world who could hope to keep up with him.


    As he drew closer to land, he caught sight of crimson scales flashing in the sun. A shape larger than any of dragons he had passed so far dropped out of the sky above him and streaked toward the surface of the sea before pulling up sharply, so near to the surface that the very tip of a long, graceful tail skimmed the waves. She had passed so close to him that the winds of her passage would have thrown a smaller dragon askew.


    He snorted. A casual display of aerial agility befitting someone who excelled in every aspect of battle.


    "You made no move to dodge," Regal Flame said as she drew level with him. They were of a size although his wings were larger. A ghost of a smile crossed her lips, and her eyes gleamed with the indecipherable blue of distant horizons.


    She laughed. She would have done this sooner if she''d known a challenge of this type would bring out his more playful side.


    Unleashing more blasts of fire, she no longer restricted herself to rings. Instead, her flames now carved out different shapes that would demand a certain wing position and body posture to pass through unsinged.


    This would be more challenging, especially since his wings were larger than hers, but it should still be possible although if he wanted she glanced over her shoulder again, and his eyes gleamed at the challenge she had set.


    No. He wasn''t about to shy away from the challenge. If anything, he relished it.


    As a hatchling, Doomwing had thought that if he simply flapped his wings harder, he would go faster and fly better. That wasn''t entirely misguided, but his parents had explained that flying was more complicated than that, and Mother Tree had given him that fond but exasperated look before telling him to study instead of just flying around carrying rocks.


    Wind resistance. Air flow. Lift. Drag.


    There were so many concepts associated with flight. Many dragons chose to ignore them because flight was something they did instinctively, something they felt was an art, not something to be approached with the rigorous mind of a scholar. Doomwing begged to differ. Combat was an art, and yet the best fighters he knew all studied it extensively.


    Why shouldn''t flight be the same?


    And so he had studied, learning everything he could about flight, not only from other dragons but also from drakes, wyverns, griffins, hippogriffs, pegasi, and whichever of the gods he could badger into speaking with him. Mother Tree and Dion had helped him even as many of his fellows had made fun of him.


    Doomwing the dragon with big wings who couldn''t even fly that well.


    But Stormtooth had helped him too. He''d come up with all sorts of ideas about how to use his wings and his body to improve his speed and agility in the air, and she''d happily tried out those ideas with him. She''d always been a good flier, and she hadn''t made fun of him, even when some or even most of his ideas hadn''t worked. Instead. She''d been happy for him. It was better than seeing him mope, she''d said, and it was better to keep fighting than to give up.


    Doomwing needed every trick he had ever learned to meet the challenge Regal Flame had set him. A rectangle of flame loomed up ahead, and he spun, following the path the other dragon had set, before flaring his wings and levelling them to pass through the rectangle. A series of less easily described shapes awaited, and he looped back and forth and then up and down while twisting and turning his wings and body to pass through them.


    And all the while she continued to increase her pace, pushing to the very limits of her speed as endurance became more and more of an issue. Dragons could fly for days if need be, but flying at full speed was far more taxing than simply cruising through the air. Had he been only partially healed, he might still have been able to match her speed for a time but he would never have been able to match her endurance.


    Now, she was soaring upward, racing toward the summit of the sky, far beyond the clouds. He followed, and the world fell away below them. For an endless moment, she hung halfway between the stars and the earth, and then she turned, folded her wings, and dove. He followed, and they plunged down toward the surface of the sea.


    Down they went, building speed, and still she made no move to ease her descent. She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he could read the question in her eyes.


    Did he have the courage to follow?


    Was he confident of controlling his descent instead of slamming face first into the water?


    Would he pull up before she did?


    It reminded him of another race, long, long ago. Stormtooth had challenged him. They had raced through a storm, the thunder and lightning tearing the sky around them, the rain giving way to hail that shattered on their scales. In the end, he''d beaten her just barely for the very first time. Afterward, she grinned at him, teeth gleaming, and she''d been about to say something when her parents had reached out to her with communication magic.


    She''d huffed and then promised to find him later, so they could race again. He shouldn''t get cocky. After all, it was only one race, and it was the first time he''d beaten her. She''d get him next time and the time after that too for good measure.


    But they''d never had raced again.


    Shortly after, the Broken God had attacked and well it was probably the last happy memory he had of her.


    Doomwing looked ahead as Regal Flame finally pulled up, the tip of her tail just barely brushing a passing wave. Doomwing matched her, and he felt the strain on his wings and on his entire body as he fought gravity and momentum and turned his dive into a climb that had his tail skimming the top of another wave.


    Her pace slowed, the embers and sparks fading as she let her heat bank. She levelled off and then angled her wings to drift back to him.


    "It seems you are fully healed," she said.


    Doomwing chuckled. "It would seem so." He paused. "It has been a while since I flew like that. I had almost forgotten how fun it could be."


    "We so often fly into battle," Regal Flame replied. "But it would be remiss to forget the freedom that flying offers."


    "Yes" Doomwing heard a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Stormtooth, and he decided that, for once, it might not be so bad to listen to it. "Now, let''s see if you can keep up with me!"


    As Regal Flame watched Doomwing take the lead, she allowed herself a brief moment of introspection. She had heard the stories from the others about how Doomwing had often been teased about his wings when he was a hatchling. Even now, they were still a bit too big for him. Yet who would mock those wings now after they had carried him through seven Ages, six Catastrophes, and countless battles? His name, bestowed by hopeful parents, had turned out to be most fitting indeed.

 Whats Going On

    What''s Going On


    To summarise:


    Several real life things have come up that need to be dealt with.


    I also need to focus entirely on the fiction that gets me paid. I''ve been writing this alongside something else, but it''s time to focus more on that something else in order to meet certain deadlines. Due to health struggles at the end of last year and the beginning of this year, I was already behind. I really cannot put it off any further.


    Updates are therefore uncertain in scheduling and freque

 Interlude 8: A Promise Between Friends

    Interlude 8: A Promise Between Friends


    Elerion stared at the horizon. The sun had set some time ago, but darkness had yet to fall. Instead, the sky was lit by vivid trails of violet, indigo, emerald, azure, and magenta. If they had been further north, he would have called it beautiful. After all, few men could say they¡¯d travelled so far north as to witness the famous northern lights.


    But this far south?


    No. There was nothing beautiful about those lights. Instead, those who understood their true nature could only look upon them with growing dread. The dreaming lands were bleeding into the physical world ¨C yet another sign that Kagami¡¯s power had grown to truly monstrous proportions.


    A vast shadow fell over him, and he bit back a curse. It never ceased to amaze him how silently Doomwing could move when he was so inclined. If he had to guess, the dragon was using several high-level spells in conjunction with powerful runes to conceal his approach. Of course, the dragon would deny doing so, but it simply wasn¡¯t possible for someone so huge to move so quietly without the aid of magic.


    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± Doomwing rumbled. ¡°One way or another, it ends tomorrow.¡± High above Elerion, golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and coils of powerful muscle tensed beneath gleaming scales of ruby and sapphire. ¡°Are you afraid?¡±


    Elerion gave a short bark of laughter and held out one hand. It was shaking. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m afraid. We¡¯re miles away from her, and yet... I can feel her power without even trying. Kagami was always stronger than me. Now? She feels stronger than you, old friend.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t think that was possible.¡±


    ¡°I am strong,¡± Doomwing said. ¡°But my strength pales in comparison to some of the foes I have faced.¡± The air grew heavy with power and regret. ¡°If you could have seen what I have seen... as mighty as Kagami has become, she has not grown so powerful that I cannot imagine winning.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever faced a foe like that? A foe you couldn¡¯t even imagine beating?¡±


    Doomwing gave a low rumble. It came from deep within his chest, a sound like a mountainside giving way. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But you won, right? After all, you¡¯re still here.¡±


    ¡°Won? No.¡± Doomwing shook his head. ¡°I should have died that day. I was young then, so young, but even now, after all these years and all the strength I¡¯ve acquired, I cannot imagine beating that particular foe.¡± His gaze drifted to the broken sky above them. ¡°There were more dragons then, my friend, so many more, so many it felt as if the sky could not contain them all.¡± For a moment, Doomwing seemed younger, and Elerion could almost imagine the hatchling he must have been so very long ago. ¡°The mightiest of us still lived then, and the gods still walked the world.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Elerion asked.


    ¡°They died. The greatest dragons who have ever lived and all the gods ¨C they died. Almost all of my kind died. So many of us fell that day that our bones were piled as high as mountains and our scales were like grains of sand in a desert.¡±


    Elerion was silent. What could he say to that. And then, despite the seriousness of the matter, he felt a wry smile tug at the corner of his lips. ¡°Compared to someone who could do that, Kagami doesn¡¯t seem so tough anymore.¡±


    Doomwing¡¯s grin was all teeth. ¡°No. No, she does not.¡±


    Elerion clenched his fist to keep his hand from trembling. ¡°You must think me a coward.¡±


    ¡°No. If you weren¡¯t afraid, I would think you a fool. You are not me, Elerion. You may be the greatest of men, but you are still a man. Your power cannot compare to mine, nor can it compare to Kagami¡¯s. To her, you might as well be an ant. Besides, a coward would not be here. They would have fled long ago.¡±


    ¡°True, a coward would have fled.¡± Elerion chuckled. ¡°Only a brave man... or a fool would have stayed.¡±


    They passed the next few moments in silence, and Elerion found his gaze drawn to his reflection in the lake before him. His violet eyes were still keen, but his face was lean and weathered, and his hair was now more grey than gold. He¡¯d gotten old, or perhaps he¡¯d been old for some time and only just now realised it. It had been so easy to miss the seasons slipping by with Kagami and Hikari by his side. He¡¯d been so happy. They¡¯d been so happy.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to die. You know that, don¡¯t you?¡± Doomwing murmured. ¡°Tomorrow, during the battle. There is no way you will live through it. If Kagami doesn¡¯t kill you herself, then one of her lackeys surely will. Neither Marcus nor I will be able to protect you, not with all the foes we shall have to face ourselves. Even in your prime that would be true. As you are now...¡±


    Elerion¡¯s lips curled. ¡°Just say it, old friend. I¡¯m an old man, far past my prime. Even if Kagami hadn¡¯t gone insane and decided to murder us all, I¡¯d last another decade at best.¡±


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    He glanced over his shoulder, back toward the camp where his followers had gathered. Good, reliable men, all of them. Some had been with him from the start, and most had grown up never knowing any other king but him. He was the High King, and they followed because he led, because they believed that as long as he lived, there was a chance they could win, no matter how hopeless the battle.


    There was a chance they could win, but victory would not come at their swords and spears. No. What hope they had of victory rested in Doomwing. They were there to keep the dragon from being overrun. They would die ¨C all of them ¨C in the hope that their deaths would buy enough time for Doomwing to do what he had to.


    It would have been hilarious if it wasn¡¯t so tragic.


    ¡°I lied to them, you know,¡± Elerion said. ¡°When they asked me if we could win. I said we could.¡±


    ¡°We can. We will.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. But I left out the part where they¡¯re all going to die. I left out the part where I¡¯m going to die.¡± Elerion took a deep breath. ¡°My younger self would be disgusted. But... I¡¯ve been High King for a long time, Doomwing. Life isn¡¯t a fairy tale. Sometimes, the truth doesn¡¯t set you free.¡±


    The dragon gave a deep, sonorous growl. The lake shook, and Elerion trembled. ¡°You are as foolish now as you were when we first me! Do you think they do not know? They have seen with their own eyes what Kagami and her followers can do. They know how hopelessly outmatched they are. They know that their only purpose is to give their lives, so that I can face Kagami without being overrun.¡±


    ¡°Then why...?¡±


    ¡°Because you are their king. Because they trust that you would not ask this of them if there was any other way... and because they love what they have left behind more than they fear the foe that awaits them.¡± Doomwing¡¯s gaze drifted to the sky once more. ¡°Besides, if they ran, where could they go that Kagami could not follow? Better to die here when victory is still possible than to run and surrender to certain defeat, however long and lingering it might be.¡±


    Elerion swallowed thickly. There was still much he wanted to say, yet he could not find the words, or perhaps he feared putting into words the thoughts that refused to leave his mind. To speak his fears would make them real, and now, more than ever, he could not afford to let his fears overwhelm him.


    ¡°Do you think we will be remembered?¡± Elerion asked at last. ¡°It seems silly, but if we¡¯re all going to die here, I want us to be remembered.¡±


    ¡°By whom?¡±


    ¡°By somebody,¡± Elerion said. ¡°By... by our descendants or whatever kingdoms of men remain after this. I just... they¡¯re good people, Doomwing. They don¡¯t deserve to be forgotten. And I... I want to believe that I¡¯ve been a good king. I don¡¯t want to be forgotten either.¡±


    The dragon stared down at him, and the weight of his gaze was heavier than a mountain. The years fell away, and Elerion was no longer High King. He was that stupid, foolish farm boy who¡¯d somehow managed to convince a dragon that he wasn¡¯t worth eating. In that moment, all it would have taken was a single word from Doomwing to shatter his resolve. In the past, perhaps, Doomwing might have done so. Elerion knew better than most that the dragon was not one to temper his words merely to spare the feelings of others.


    And yet the words of criticism did not come ¨C at least, not in the way Elerion expected.


    ¡°You will be forgotten,¡± Doomwing said. ¡°You are a king of men, and men¡¯s memories are short. No matter how valiant your deeds or how wise your kingship, the day will come when the kingdoms of men forget your name and your deeds pass beyond even myth and legend.¡±


    Elerion flinched as if struck, but Doomwing pressed on regardless.


    ¡°But I am not a man. I am a dragon. I am Doomwing. I was born when the gods still walked the world. I remember the embrace of Mother Tree before her fall. I watched the oceans rise, and I saw the dead sweep like a black plague across the world. I fought the star who fell, and now I face a weaver of dreams gone mad. I, Doomwing, have seen all these things. I, Doomwing, have forgotten more than most will ever know. And I promise you this, Elerion. Your own people may forget you. Your deeds, your rule, even your very name may slip from the memories of your descendants. But I, Doomwing, will not forget you. From this day until my last day, I shall remember you.¡±


    Elerion opened his mouth to reply, but the words refused to come. Instead, he could only bow his head in thanks and pretend that the moisture upon his cheeks came from the rain that had just then started to fall.


    ¡°Go.¡± Doomwing tilted his head toward the camp. ¡°You have spent long enough here. Spend your last night with those who have chosen to give their lives alongside you. Smile. Laugh. Live. Let them know their king still believes that victory is possible. Let their last memories of the man who leads them be of a High King worthy of the title. And tomorrow... tomorrow lead them, lead them to an end worthy of story and song. Let my last memories of my friend be not of the boy he was but the man ¨C the king ¨C he became.¡± And then, more softly, so softly that it was little more than a breeze brushing past. ¡°Go.¡±


    Those would be the last words they ever spoke to each other.


    And the last time Doomwing would ever see Elerion alive, the High King would be blind, his armour rent, his sword and shield shattered, and his body covered in countless wounds. His bannerman would lie dead beside him, loyal to the last, the king¡¯s banner trampled into the blood and muck of the battlefield. The bodies of his foes would be piled high around him, and there would be a smile on his lips as he burned his very soul as fuel to keep himself on his feet just a moment longer ¨C and to ensure that he was beyond healing.


    Even then, in the midst of that most terrible of battles, Elerion could feel Doomwing¡¯s gaze upon him. If he could be saved, the dragon might try to save him, a weakness Kagami would surely exploit. And so he burnt his soul as fuel to keep himself standing, to let himself fight a little longer ¨C and because doing so would put him beyond even Doomwing¡¯s ability to heal.


    Wounded to his death, Elerion tried to speak. But the words would not come, not past the blood clogging his throat and the terrible weakness clawing at his limbs.


    ¡°Go,¡± he wanted to say. ¡°Look not behind you at a dying man. Turn your gaze to the future only you will live to see.¡± Instead, all he could do was smile.


    And so he died, a smile on his lips.


    And that was how Doomwing would always remember him. Not simply as the farm boy with more bravery than common sense, but as the man who died smiling. A good king, but a better friend.

 Chapter 54: The Dragon Remembers

    Chapter 54: The Dragon Remembers


    Whatever joy or levity Doomwing felt vanished as he approached the plateau. Regal Flame must have sensed the change in his mood because her pace slowed, and the embers that trailed in her wake grew cold. She eased back and let him pull ahead as he banked to land not far from the monuments he¡¯d made to commemorate the Catastrophes and those who¡¯d fallen defeating them.


    He was all too aware of the many eyes upon him. Some were awed. Others were questioning. And still others were uncertain. He paid no mind to any of them. Instead, his gaze was drawn to the five monuments before him. Soon, he would add a sixth. But for now, he found his memories drifting back through the Ages. There was no need for memory enhancement magic. Some memories were bound to fade with time. Others, however, would never fade, for better or for worse.


    As a hatchling he had never truly understood terror, not until the day the skies broke, the gods died, and the shattered scales of his kin fell like rain. The Broken God had taught him two things that day: terror... and hatred.


    He had seen the Broken God with his own eyes, if only from afar. To some terror was a bloodied blade or a leering face. To him, terror would always be a twisted abomination of corrupted god-metal, an accursed, wretched titans whose very image he had done his best to destroy. No trace of the Broken God remained in the world, save for in the memories of primordial dragons and the very depths of the Deep Dreaming. The latter was a testament to the Broken God¡¯s might, and its status as the oldest and greatest of the world¡¯s fears.


    His gaze drifted to the second monument. Many times, he had asked himself if there was something he could have done to persuade Mother Tree. Ages had passed since her death, long Ages filled with suffering and loss. Yet despite all the knowledge he had gained, all the wisdom he had paid for with blood and sorrow, the answer had never changed. She had made her choice, and in the end, so had he. In truth, she¡¯d made her choice long before that final confrontation. Only the gods could have changed her mind, and by then, all the gods were dead. Part of him was glad for that. Dion would have been inconsolable if he¡¯d seen the two of them locked in battle.


    His attention shifted to the third monument. The Lord of the Tides. His lips curled. The Lord of the Tides had been a worthy foe. He had made no secret of his intentions, and he had pursued them with distinctly draconic vigour. That had been a good battle too. A worthy battle. He had almost died, and yet... he had seldom felt so alive. The Lord of the Tides had been his foe. There was no history between them, no reason to hold back or give quarter. It had been kill or be killed. Even now, Ages later, he could remember every detail of that battle.


    If the Lord of the Tides had been a straightforward opponent, then the Mad Vampire had been a testament to the heights that could be achieved through cunning. It should have been impossible for any vampire to grow so powerful, yet Marcus¡¯s father had proven that madness was no obstacle to power. It would almost have been admirable if his methods had not been so despicable ¨C and the consequences so dire.


    Doomwing¡¯s claws clenched. Had the plateau been any less durable, he¡¯d have torn gouges into it. Dawnscale had left in the aftermath of the Fourth Catastrophe, and that was a blow that cut more deeply than any wound the Mad Vampire had managed to inflict. He had no idea if she would ever return. Indeed, he didn¡¯t even know if she was still alive.


    It was strange. He could still remember the pity in her gaze when she¡¯d left. She was a fool. A sentimental fool. She could run as far as she wished, but she would never find the paradise she longed for. No matter how many worlds she visited, she would never find one without struggle. But if she did find such a place, he would still want no part of it. He was a dragon. He had no desire to face more Catastrophes, but a life free of struggle was not worth living.


    And then there was the Exiled Star. Of all the foes he¡¯d faced over the years, only two had driven him to take a backward step. The Broken God had been the first, and the Exiled Star was the other. Even now, after so many years, that battle remained the most difficult he had ever fought. He had come closer to death against Kagami, but he had faced her alone. He and the other primordial dragons had faced the Exiled Star together, and if a single thing had gone differently, they would have lost. In terms of pure combat power, only the Broken God surpassed the Exiled Star. Yet that knowledge was tempered by a simple fact.


    The Exiled Star they¡¯d faced was but the tiniest sliver of something infinitely greater. That titan of light and fire and glory, a being whose Truth bore down on the world and cast Judgement upon all others... that creature was nothing more than the faintest of shadows cast by the radiance of the true Exiled Star. Dreamsong had glimpsed the truth in the depths of the Deep Dreaming. The true Exiled Star was a fallen guardian whose strength had once guarded millions upon millions of worlds, whose mere gaze could have reduced their world to dust a billion times over.


    The shard of the Exiled Star they¡¯d faced had been a single grain of sand on a beach that stretched out into infinity. The foe that had driven them so close to death was only the smallest fragment of an unimaginably greater whole that had somehow managed to slip past whatever defences kept the Exiled Star from laying waste to countless worlds.


    Had Ashheart been less lucky, had Doomwing been even a fraction of a second slower with his magic, if any of them had made even the slightest mistake... it was best not to think of it. Yet that battle had also given Doomwing a glimpse of what lay beyond the darkness between worlds. As mighty as he and the other primordial dragons were, they were nothing more than very big fish in the very smallest of ponds. Beyond their world, past the sky and the shadow, were powers they could not hope to comprehend.


    A weaker person might have been broken by that knowledge.


    But Doomwing was no weakling.


    So be it.


    Perhaps there were powers out there beyond his comprehension. If so, then he would simply have to find a way to comprehend them. More importantly, that knowledge gave him hope that a Fifth Awakening was possible. And what he¡¯d glimpsed in the moments he¡¯d lingered on the edge of death after being struck by Kagami¡¯s god-metal spear had only strengthened that belief. A Fifth Awakening must be possible ¨C and more besides.


    ¡°When will you be adding the sixth monument?¡± Regal Flame asked. She could move very quietly indeed when she wished, or perhaps he¡¯d simply been too preoccupied with his own thoughts.


    He turned away from the monuments. He was not upset that she¡¯d spoken. On the contrary, he was glad that she¡¯d broken him from his reminiscence before melancholy could overtake him. It reminded him of the long ago days of his youth, when Stormtooth had dragged him off on some wild adventure whenever the taunts of their peers or his own failings had lowered his mood. Mother Tree had called them a pair of fools, but she had always been smiling when she¡¯d said it, so the words were spoken more of exasperation than in genuine rebuke.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± he rumbled. ¡°I know the names I wish to add to the monument.¡± And there was one name in particular that came to mind. ¡°However, you and the others must have names you wish to add as well. I would learn those names, so they might also be added. All who gave their lives to defeat the Sixth Catastrophe should be remembered.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Regal Flame¡¯s gaze grew complicated. ¡°She was... your friend, wasn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°She was.¡± On the rare occasions Doomwing thought of Kagami, he preferred to think of her as she had been before her madness and paranoia overtook her. The foul creature she¡¯d become had not been his friend. No. Whatever part of Kagami had ever been his friend had died long before he¡¯d struck her down. ¡°But the creature I killed was no friend of mine.¡±


    Regal Flame said nothing, but the weight of her gaze let him know she understood. Of course. She too must have been forced to strike down friends and allies after Kagami¡¯s sorcery drove them mad. It spoke well indeed of Firetail. The drake¡¯s loyalty had never wavered, not even for a moment. He had never been the mightiest of Regal Flame¡¯s followers, even before his crippling at Soulseeker¡¯s claws. But he had always been the most loyal, and such loyalty was worthy of the highest praise.


    ¡°Is it true that she struck you with a spear of god-metal?¡± Regal Flame asked. ¡°I do not doubt your words... yet... only the gods could make god-metal. When they died, what little remained vanished with them. How could she possibly possess a spear made of it?¡±


    Doomwing almost reached up to touch the place where Kagami¡¯s spear had pierced his chest. The wound had healed, yet the shock of seeing the weapon remained. ¡°I know very well how impossible it must sound, but it was god-metal.¡± Flame kindled in his jaws. ¡°I remember the feel of god-metal from the First Age. I could never mistake it for anything else. I do not know where she got it from, but I have no doubt that it was truly god-metal.¡±


    ¡°But you were able to destroy it.¡± Regal Flame tilted her head to the side. ¡°From what I remember of the First Age and Mother Tree¡¯s teachings, that should be impossible. Only the gods could destroy god-metal. That, at least in part, was what made the Broken God such a terrible foe. Only the gods could wound him.¡±


    ¡°And your father,¡± Doomwing said. ¡°Only he, of all the gods¡¯ creations, was able to wound that most terrible of foes.¡± He shook his head. ¡°In truth, I am not sure how I was able to destroy it. Perhaps whatever method she used to obtain it weakened it somehow. All I can be certain of is that none of it remains.¡± And wasn¡¯t that a pity? There was much he could have learned from a spear wrought of god-metal, yet he had been in no position to hold back when confronted by such a weapon. ¡°Yet despite the wound I suffered, I am grateful.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Regal Flame shifted closer, eyes luminous with curiosity. ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°I almost died. Yet on the verge of death, I saw something that gave me hope.¡±


    ¡°What did you see?¡±


    ¡°An eye.¡± Doomwing shivered. ¡°An enormous, silver eye. A dragon¡¯s eye. I saw it as my soul drifted through the astral plane.¡± He bared his teeth. ¡°God-metal is fearsome not simply because of its physical power but also because it strikes at more than the body. I also have magic that lets me perceive the astral plane. Each time I have glimpsed into it, I have seen light, a radiance that seems to be everywhere yet come from nowhere. It was there, on the edge death, that I understood. What I had long thought was the light of the astral plane was simply the gaze of that silver eye.¡±


    Regal Flame stared. ¡°That... for such a thing to be possible, for a dragon to possess such power...¡±


    Doomwing grinned toothily. ¡°Such a dragon is proof that the Fourth Awakening is not the end.¡± He chuckled. ¡°To be honest, I have long suspected that. After all, your father was able to wound the Broken God. He was the mightiest of us all, yet for the other dragons of that era to achieve nothing? Perhaps in his final moments, he found a way to become something more, to reach beyond the Fourth Awakening.¡±


    Regal Flame smiled, and there was no small hint of bitterness in it. ¡°My father was different from other dragons. I was so young then, but even then, I knew that. If there was anyone who could have gone beyond a Fourth Awakening, it would have been him. Alas, whatever insight he gained, whatever... power he obtained, it died with him.¡± She took a deep breath and turned toward the monuments. It must be strange. She had been so young when Sovereign Flame had died. She knew more of him from Mother Tree¡¯s stories than she did from personal experience. ¡°How will you gather the names for the sixth monument? I can provide you with a list. However, the others... not all of them will be so easy to speak to. Indeed, there are some who have no desire to speak with you at all.¡±


    Doomwing¡¯s eyes gleamed, and he almost gave a snort of disdain. He knew all too well how irksome some of his fellow primordial dragons could be. Few were as foolish as Soulseeker had been, but they could be tiresome in their own ways. Some, like Stormbringer, were manageable enough, albeit eccentric. How she could derive such amusement from throwing hapless creatures into a Pool of Ascension never ceased to puzzle him ¨C nor did her luck ever cease to aggravate him. But there were others who were far harder to deal with. He could think of at least two who were as likely to attack him as speak to him. Visiting them one by one would not only be horribly inefficient but also dangerous. He had a better solution.


    ¡°I will call for a meeting between all primordial dragons,¡± Doomwing said at last. His tail thumped the ground. ¡°Here, at this plateau. Long have I slumbered, and much has the world changed in that time. Promises have been forgotten. Oaths have been abandoned. I would remind the others of their responsibilities. I would remind them that if they wish to avoid a repeat of the Sixth Catastrophe ¨C and its many sacrifices ¨C then we must, once again, renew those ancient promises and oaths.¡±


    Regal Flame laughed. It was a pleasant sound, not mocking but full of joy. ¡°A meeting between all primordial dragons? Yes. You certainly have the right to call for such a thing, and it has been too long since we all gathered. Yet contacting the others will not be easy. They are far away, and some have even withdrawn from the world and gone into seclusion.¡±


    Doomwing rose up to his full height and flared his wings. Flame kindled in his jaws, and his power fell over him like a shroud. ¡°I am Doomwing. When I call, they will answer. My magic will see to that.¡± His eyes blazed like pools of molten gold. ¡°If there are those amongst your followers with a talent for communication magic, then I suggest you call for them. I know not if they will learn anything from watching me, but they may glean a thing or two if their talent proves sufficient.¡±


    ¡°What do you intend to do?¡±


    ¡°I will call for the others ¨C but in a way they cannot ignore.¡±


    Regal Flame had sent word to those amongst her followers who were gifted in communication magic or who had any real interest in magic at all. She was not surprised when both Frostfang and Squallwing arrived as well. To watch Doomwing work a great magic outside of battle was a rare and precious opportunity. Indeed, the mere fact that Doomwing considered his technique worth observing meant it must be potent indeed. His standards were so high that what most people considered magic of the highest quality he found to be so mundane as to be unworthy of closer observation.


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    There was a part of her that was disappointed that a day that had been going so well had been overtaken by old regrets and sorrows. Yet that was part of who Doomwing was. The grief that sometimes fell like a mantle upon him and the sorrow that lingered like the scent of rain after a storm ¨C he could no more easily set those aside than he could change who he was. It was Doomwing¡¯s nature to grieve as deeply as he cared. He would never admit to such a thing, but she had known him for a long time. She had seen him at his best and at his worst. And unlike so many others, she was certain that his grief and sorrow would never break him. He was Doomwing. He would grieve, and he would mourn. He would bleed, and he would suffer. But he would never give up. To do so would shame the sacrifices of all those who had gone before. To do so would mean that his friends had died for nothing, and that he could never allow. Doomwing was like the dragons of old. He would die before he broke.


    ¡°What is he going to do?¡± Squallwing asked Frostfang.


    The young dragon was practically vibrating with excitement. Since his arrival, she had learned a great deal about him, both from observation and from her followers. In most respects, he was not impressive, especially considering his lineage. He could not fly well. His physical abilities were all lacking. Even his magical power was mediocre.


    What he did have was a great love for magic ¨C not simply the grand magics that could level mountains and boil seas, but all magics. She had granted him access to the books, scrolls, and tablets that covered what dragons considered to be lesser magics. Few bothered to look at them for long, for such magics were generally considered mundane and boring. Squallwing had been perfectly content to immerse himself in them. It was then that she¡¯d realised he found joy in the simple act of learning magic, no matter how weak or mundane it was. He was like a human stumbling about in the desert, and those paltry magics that others looked upon with disdain were akin to cool, fresh water.


    It was strangely adorable.


    It also explained his interest in Doomwing. If Ashheart was the mightiest dragon in purely physical terms, then the same could be said of Doomwing when it came to magic. If anything, the gap between Doomwing and the next most skilled dragon in magic was larger than that between Ashheart and the second strongest dragon.


    There was not a single aspect of magic in which Doomwing could be found wanting. It was not a matter of talent. To be sure, Doomwing was talented. However, he had found ways to excel in areas where even his own nature worked against him. That had been less a matter of talent and more a matter of sheer bloody-minded stubbornness and pride. He was Doomwing. To allow any aspect of magic to elude him would be unthinkable, akin to letting a priceless treasure slip through his claws. There might well have been dragons from the First Age who had boasted more magical power than him, but she was certain that his knowledge was second to none.


    ¡°A communication spell ¨C one strong enough to reach every primordial dragon in the world, regardless of their location.¡±


    Frostfang chuckled. ¡°Without using his mirror?¡± Regal Flame nodded. ¡°Then it would seem that Doomwing intends to remind the others of why we follow him into battle. Such a feat would be beyond any of us.¡±


    Embers drifted through the air as Regal Flame inclined her head in acknowledgement. Even for a primordial dragon, reaching from one continent to another was not easy, and that was with a single target in mind. Contacting every other primordial dragon in the world at the same time, irrespective of distance? Only Doomwing would be foolish enough to attempt such a thing ¨C and skilled enough to achieve it.


    Regal Flame¡¯s gaze scanned the crowd that had assembled. Many dragons had come to watch, but they maintained a respectful distance from Doomwing who stood at the centre of the plateau. If their attention bothered him, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he was content to wait until Regal Flame gave him permission to begin.


    It was a courtesy. Magic of the highest level would almost always impact the surrounding area. As the ruler of this area, it would have shamed her if he had acted without her permission. Doomwing could be cruel to those he deemed worthy of contempt, but he was courteous to those who had earned his respect.


    Seeing that all of the dragons she expected were present, Regal Flame breathed a short puff of fire into the air. It was the sign for him to begin. Doomwing nodded in acknowledgement and then closed his eyes.


    Regal Flame¡¯s brows furrowed. She had expected him to exert his strength immediately, to take the awesome wellspring of power within him and use it to force reality to bend to his demands. That was how dragons wielded magic. They gave orders, and the world obeyed. What Doomwing was doing now was... different.


    His power seeped into the area around him, flowing almost gently into the bountiful currents of magic that ran through the plateau. This was no roar that brought the world to heel. This was closer to the communion between dryads and the lands they dwelt in. Her eyes widened as a low murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd. They had yet to sense it, but she could.


    Whatever he was doing, the currents of magic had begun to shift ¨C and not just around Doomwing. All of the currents of magic, every single one that ran through the plateau and her domain, began to pulse and hum. And the rhythm they followed belonged not to the world but to Doomwing¡¯s heart. She glanced at Frostfang. He too must have sensed it, for his eyes had also widened. Whatever Doomwing was doing, he had not seen it before either.


    Slowly, the murmurs of confusion turned to shock. The others had begun to sense what she and Frostfang had already noticed. Something that was almost a smirk crossed Doomwing¡¯s lips although his eyes remained closed. With all of the currents of magic beating in time with his heart, she waited for him to use his telekinesis. He could seize control of them and shape them into a truly awe-inspiring communication spell.


    That was not what he did.


    Instead, he kept his eyes closed... and he began to dance.


    And the currents of magic moved with him.


    ¡°This...¡± Frostfang hissed.


    ¡°Do you recognise it?¡± Regal Flame asked.


    Doomwing¡¯s movements were unfamiliar to her, at least, she¡¯d never seen a dragon make them before. Yet there was something about them, something that tugged at her memories. She was tempted to use memory magic, but it would have been rude to use it while Doomwing was busy. Yes. She had definitely seen movements similar to these before, but where?


    ¡°Yes.¡± Frostfang shook his head and then stilled. ¡°Yes. I do. I saw something similar during the Fifth Age. Amongst the beast-people of that age, there was a group of powerful tiger-people. They did not have the strongest magic, but they found a way to... commune with the currents of magic around them. That allowed them to grow from a small clan to rulers of a powerful nation. This... what Doomwing is doing reminds me of that but with the movements adapted to take into account a dragon¡¯s body.¡±


    ¡°But how could Doomwing have learned such a thing? The tiger-people would have kept such a method secret.¡± And Regal Flame knew all too well that even amongst those species dragons often looked down upon, there were those who would rather die than share their secrets with dragons.


    As Doomwing continued to dance, she grew more and more certain that Frostfang was right. She knew how he fought. She had fought beside him many times. His movements now were different from normal. There was something distinctly feline about them, something unmistakably similar to the tiger-people she¡¯d glimpsed in the past. This was not something Doomwing could have learned through mere observation, no matter how keen his insight. This was something he¡¯d been taught. Yet it was hard to imagine Doomwing setting aside his pride to ask a tiger-person for lessons, and it was harder still to imagine a tiger-person who would have the courage and audacity to teach Doomwing.


    As Doomwing¡¯s dance continued, the currents of magic responded with ever-greater enthusiasm. And those same responses were no longer confined to the currents of magic that flowed through the land. The currents of magic that flowed through the sky had begun to mirror them. Just as importantly, what had begun as rough tremors in the currents of magic had turned into finer and finer alterations. His dance was weaving the currents of magic into a communication spell, one whose foundations encompassed her entire domain and the skies above it.


    At last, Doomwing fell still, but the currents of magic continued to dance to the sure, steady beating of his heart. He opened his eyes and began to speak, and Regal Flame knew at once that his words would be carried far, far beyond her domain, riding on the currents of magic that flowed through the earth and sky. Turning her attention to the horizon, she could sense the echoes of his dance spreading like ripples across a pond. When they reached the sea, they did not stop. Instead, the currents of magic that flowed through the waters of the world began to move as well.


    Even Doomwing didn¡¯t have the strength to spread his words across the entire world. But he didn¡¯t have to. Through his dance, he had asked the world to spread them for him.


    And the world had agreed.


    Incredible.


    Doomwing was satisfied with the message he had sent ¨C both in terms of the words he¡¯d spoken and the strength he¡¯d demonstrated. All dragons, particularly primordial dragons, liked to live near places of power where magic was plentiful. His words would have resounded like thunder in such places, carried by the currents of magic that flowed through the earth, the sea, and the sky. From the very heights of the sky to the very depths of the sea, there was not a single place of power where his words would have gone unheard.


    But for now, he was inclined to rest. The technique he¡¯d used was no easy thing, for it was very different to the magic dragons normally wielded. Indeed, in some ways, it could be considered antithetical to their very nature. Yet it was also the best way he could think of to spread his message. Moreover, he knew that his fellow primordial dragons would be baffled by how he had accomplished it. Their curiosity ¨C along with the incentives he¡¯d offered ¨C would give them ample reason to attend the meeting he had called for.


    ¡°I hope this place is to your liking.¡±


    Doomwing turned his head. Regal Flame had offered him a lair to use during his stay. ¡°It is more than adequate.¡± The lair she¡¯d offered him had belonged to one of the great dragons of the First Age, a legend who¡¯d been created not long after her father. As such, it was enormous even by his standards. Naturally, however, no treasure remained. Such things had already been taken elsewhere long ago. Still, the gesture was not without meaning. It showed that he was a guest that she held in the highest esteem. ¡°You have my thanks.¡±


    ¡°It will not be long before the others arrive,¡± she remarked. ¡°Perhaps only a matter of days.¡±


    ¡°I suspect Stormbringer will be first.¡± He scowled. ¡°It may be wise to warn the inhabitants of the desert, lest they drown in the rains she brings.¡±


    Regal Flame grinned. ¡°Out of all of us, her name might be the most apt. She told me that on the day she hatched, the weather was clear, without a single cloud in the sky. Yet, when she hatched, a storm arose, and she was greeted not by clear skies but by rain and thunder. That was why he parents named her Stormbringer ¨C because she brought a storm with her.¡±


    Doomwing snorted. ¡°A likely story. She once told me that Tempest Claw herself had suggested the name to her parents. If you ask Frostfang, I suspect he will have heard a different story.¡±


    ¡°Stormbringer has always been mischievous,¡± Regal Flame replied. ¡°But she is reliable when it matters.¡±


    Doomwing frowned. ¡°That, at least, is true.¡± For all her foolishness, Stormbringer was not lacking in courage. She had answered each time he called, and she had given her all in every battle, no matter the foe. Whether it was the Lord of the Tides or the Exiled Star, Stormbringer had not taken a backward step. Like the storms she was named after, she was a force of nature. ¡°The others will not come alone.¡± He inclined his head. ¡°I shall have to impose on you to see to their lodgings and the like.¡±


    Regal Flame waved his worries aside with one wing. ¡°It is no imposition. Meeting here, in my domain, is a great honour. And with that honour come certain responsibilities. Besides, I am more than capable of hosting the others and their followers for a time.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I noticed many things about your domain during our flight, and I have noticed more in the time since.¡± He paused. Praise had always been awkward for him to give, but she deserved it. ¡°Out of all of us, your domain is the best, and you are the reason it is so.¡± He remembered the devastation that had been wrought by Soulseeker and his followers during their treachery. Regal Flame¡¯s domain had been in ruins then, yet now, it flourished. That could only have been accomplished through excellent leadership.


    Regal Flame blinked in surprise. Doomwing bit back a wince. Was he really so miserly with his praise as to merit such a reaction? A voice in the back of his mind, one that sounded suspiciously like Marcus, reminded him that wasn¡¯t so much miserly with his praise as he was an asshole who usually seemed incapable of giving it. Hmm... now that he thought about it, Marcus had almost certainly spoken precisely those words, and on more than one occasion too.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Regal Flame said. Her wings and tail stirred restlessly. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No thanks are needed. I merely spoke the truth.¡± He had seen the domains of the other primordial dragons. Some had done very well for themselves. However, none of them could match Regal Flame¡¯s abilities as a leader and administrator. It was not a coincidence that her influence stretched far and wide, and that almost all dragons who were not followers of other primordial dragons looked to her for leadership. ¡°With that in mind, I hope you do not mind if I ask for advice later.¡±


    She stilled her wings and tail. ¡°Of course. I would be happy to offer what wisdom and knowledge I can.¡± She paused. ¡°Earlier... the magic you used... Frostfang said it was similar to a technique used by a group of tiger-people from the Fifth Age.¡±


    Hmm. He had not expected Frostfang to notice that, but... ah. Yes. Frostfang had spent some time near the beast-people during the Fifth Age while pursuing an ancient artifact that had been lost amidst the floods of the Third Age. ¡°What I did was indeed based on a technique devised by tiger-people.¡±


    ¡°How did you come to learn it?¡± Regal Flame asked. ¡°I know you spent some time on that continent, but such a technique could not have been learned easily.¡±


    ¡°It was a secret kept by the royal family,¡± Doomwing replied. ¡°But I was fortunate enough to learn it from someone who had long since cast aside his name and titles. By the time we met, he was a simple monk. He thought that I might one day find it useful. It was... a gift, one of many he gave me. He thought it better to leave it in my hands than to let it be forgotten. It had been used to do great evil, but it had also been used to do great good. He seemed certain I would use it for the latter.¡±


    Regal Flame looked at him, and he was once again reminded that she was deceptively perceptive about matters such as these. Her eyes saw keenly, and her wits were sharp. She was simply tactful enough to know when to speak and when to keep silent. ¡°You must have been good friends.¡±


    ¡°What makes you think we were friends?¡± he asked although her conclusion was not wrong.


    ¡°I know you well, Doomwing. You have your pride. Even if you found the technique fascinating, you would have tried to puzzle it out for yourself if possible. For you to be willing to learn from this person, you must have trusted him and valued his opinion. Moreover, to remember him after all these years, only the greatest of friends or the mightiest of foes would merit such an honour. And from the way you speak of him, he was no foe.¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± Doomwing threw his head back and laughed. ¡°Dreamsong is more perceptive than you.¡± Regal Flame¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°But... I prefer your approach. There are times when it is better to speak around matters and times when it is better to be blunt.¡± Her lips twitched as if she was trying to hide a smile. ¡°My friend¡¯s name was Brother Tiger, and I travelled with him until he fell in battle. I think he would have liked you.¡±


    ¡°He fell in battle?¡± Regal Flame asked.


    ¡°Yes. Against the followers of the Exiled Star. He died alone but with no wounds upon his back, and not a single enemy entered the trail he defended. It was a death worthy of story and song. A death worthy of a dragon.¡±


    And once again, when she spoke, it was as if she knew the thoughts he kept hidden in his heart. ¡°The death of a friend is a tragic thing, no matter how glorious.¡± She paused. ¡°This is the first time you¡¯ve ever mentioned Brother Tiger to me.¡±


    In truth, Doomwing preferred to share the story of his time with Brother Tiger with his non-dragon friends. They could understand the story better. For example, he and Ashheart had been friends for a very, very long time. Yet he knew the other dragon would not view the story the way he did. To Ashheart, there would be little reason to mourn. Brother Tiger had found a death worthy of any dragon. That was cause for celebration. After all, Brother Tiger had passed in a manner that even Ashheart would deem worthy of praise. But Regal Flame had many friends who were not dragons, from the long ago days of Mother Tree to now, where despite there being many others who sought the honour, Firetail remained her herald.


    ¡°Can you tell me about him?¡± Regal Flame asked.


    ¡°What do you wish to know?¡±


    Her voice held a hint of mischief. ¡°You are Doomwing. All know how high your standards are. For you to call him friend, he must have truly been worth knowing. I¡¯m sure you have many stories to tell.¡±


    He found himself smiling. It was the right answer.


    ¡°Very well.¡± Doomwing settled down and motioned for her to do the same. ¡°But I shall speak no more of how he died. Instead, I shall speak of how he lived.¡±

 Chapter 55: A Young Dragon Reflects

    Chapter 55: A Young Dragon Reflects


    Tideweaver¡¯s gaze drifted over the ruins of the merfolk settlement. The cause of the devastation lay dead before him. For a kraken, his foe had not been especially a large, a mere two miles in diameter. However, he had been vicious, and many of Tideweaver¡¯s scales were now cracked and broken. Yet despite the blood oozing from his wounds, he felt no pain. Instead, there was only satisfaction.


    In many ways, the merfolk who had sworn themselves to his family were pitiable creatures. Their lives were short, and even the mightiest amongst them was little more than a candle when compared to the blazing star that was his power. And yet... they were not without virtue.


    The kraken he had slain was an outcast, a wanderer with no home to call his own. He had survived for Ages by raiding settlements and skulking in the deeps that others had yet to claim. The merfolk had stood no chance against him. Yet their warriors had not fled. Instead, they had chosen to stand their ground and fight so that their women, children, and elderly could evacuate. They had been almost completely wiped out, but their sacrifice had not been in vain. They had distracted the kraken long enough for Tideweaver to arrive.


    Long ago, when he had been only a hatchling, Tideweaver¡¯s father had said something that had lingered in his mind ever since.


    ¡°It is easy to be brave when you are strong,¡± his father had said. ¡°But true courage only shows itself when you are weak.¡±


    He had not understood at the time because he had been unable to imagine his father ever being weak. It was only as he¡¯d grown older and learned of the Catastrophes that he¡¯d understood what his father had meant. As mighty as Fathombinder was, his father¡¯s strength could not compare to the power of the Broken God or the Exiled Star. Even the Lord of the Tides had been far beyond him.


    If his father had been a coward, he would have fled from those battles. Instead, he had risked his life to help defeat the Catastrophes. He had proven that his courage was real, that he was not a coward who only showed strength when faced with the weak. For a long time, Tideweaver had wondered what would happen if he ever found himself in such a situation. Would he run, or would he stand his ground and fight? As weak as the merfolk were, they had proven their courage.


    And Tideweaver had proven his against Ashheart.


    As of late, he had often found his thoughts drifting back to his battle against the older dragon, and they would almost certainly have done so again if something remarkable had not occurred. He froze as the very currents of magic in the sea around him trembled.


    What... what was happening?


    He motioned for the remaining merfolk to hide themselves before surging up through the water, only slowing once he was in the air with nothing but clouds and rain around him. Yet even there, far above the sea, the currents of magic were not idle. The currents of magic that flowed through the sky quivered like the strings of some enormous instrument.


    But if the currents of magic were the instrument, who was the musician?


    The answer came a moment later as a voice echoed through the earth, the sea, and the sky. It was everywhere and nowhere, a sound that echoed as much in his heart and soul as in his ears. It was a voice he had not heard for an Age, a voice filled with well-earned confidence and unmistakable power.


    It was Doomwing.


    As the primordial dragon¡¯s voice thundered through him, Tideweaver¡¯s jaw clenched in frustration. After his Fourth Awakening had gone so smoothly, he had thought very highly of himself indeed. He would never dare to place himself above his father ¨C the dragon he loved and respected most in the world ¨C but it was easy to believe that he was closing the gap between himself and the dragons who stood at the pinnacle of the world.


    His battle against Ashheart ¨C if it could be called a battle ¨C had shown him how foolish he was. The older dragon had bested him with ease. Tideweaver had not felt like a mighty dragon at all. Instead, he¡¯d been treated like a silly whelp.


    It reminded him of those long ago days when he¡¯d been so young and nai?ve that he couldn¡¯t even imagine a foe that could challenge his father. Tideweaver had worked tirelessly to improve himself. He had strengthened his body, honed his skills, and sharpened his magic. Yet before Ashheart¡¯s might, none of that had mattered.


    Worst of all had been the look in Ashheart¡¯s eyes. The older dragon¡¯s hadn¡¯t even considered him a threat. If anything, he¡¯d been more concerned about not harming him too badly, lest he cause unnecessary conflict with Tideweaver¡¯s father. To Ashheart, he was simply a child in need of discipline.


    It would have been easy to give in to despair, but Tideweaver was no coward, and his father had not raised a weakling. He had fought to the end, and he had not fled in the face of Ashheart¡¯s might. He had lost, but there was no shame in losing to a foe like Ashheart. Instead, he had decided to use his defeat as motivation. Clearly, there was still plenty of room for him to improve.


    The ease of his Fourth Awakening had made him arrogant, and that arrogance had blinded him to the truth. He should consider himself fortunate that the price of coming to his senses had only been a beating. It was all too easy to imagine circumstances where his foolishness would have cost him his life. Ashheart was mighty, but he was also merciful in his own way. As Tideweaver¡¯s father had pointed out, not all primordial dragons would have treated him so leniently.


    Had he acted so... foolishly toward Doomwing, he would have found himself in a great deal more pain with injuries that would have taken far longer to heal. When his father had told him that, he had wanted to protested. After all, it was one thing to lose to Ashheart, but surely, he would have done better against Doomwing. His father had merely chuckled and patted him on the head before making him swear to never do anything so foolish. After all, his mother would grieve terribly if anything were to happen to him.


    Now, witnessing Doomwing¡¯s magic at work, Tideweaver realised that his father might have actually understated just how dangerous Doomwing truly was. To manipulate the very currents of magic across such a vast distance and over such an enormous area ¨C that spoke of magical skill and power far beyond anything Tideweaver could imagine. It made his own achievements in that field seem like nothing more than the ignorant scrabbling of a child in the dirt. His lips curled, and he bared his teeth as the flame within him roared.


    If Ashheart was the pinnacle of physical power, then the same could be said of Doomwing and magic. As impossible and foolhardy as it seemed, Tideweaver knew what he had to do. He would pursue them. Even if he stumbled and failed to ever reach them, the simple of act of trying to catch up would allow him to reach even greater heights.


    Once Doomwing¡¯s message finished, Tideweaver returned to the ruins of the merfolk settlement. He did what he could to shore up their defences and help rebuild their homes before harvesting the corpse of the kraken. It was familiar work, and it gave him time to think. Only after he was certain the merfolk would be able to manage did he leave and make his way back to archipelago at the heart of his family¡¯s territory. The merfolk might be lacking in many ways, but they had pledged their loyalty to his family. To abandon them without aid would have been shameful beyond measure. He would inform his father of their plight, and one of the others would be dispatched to offer further assistance. He was ill suited to the task of rebuilding, and there was no need to tie down a dragon who had already achieved their Fourth Awakening now that the kraken had been slain. A dragon of the Second Awakening should more than suffice, especially if that dragon had magic better suited to reconstruction. r?§Ñ?Ob§¦s?


    As Tideweaver soared over the ocean, he contemplated Doomwing¡¯s message. There was no doubt in his mind that every dragon in the area ¨C perhaps the world ¨C had heard the message. Doomwing had called for a great gathering of the primordial dragons to discuss matters of importance, and he had offered several incentives to encourage attendance. Tideweaver was certain that his father would take advantage of the offer, and he did not want to be left out of the preparations.


    He arrived at the island that housed his mother and father¡¯s lair to find that his family¡¯s vassals had already gathered. They were all dragons that had sworn themselves to his father. Some had followed him since the Second Age whilst others had only joined more recently. However, all of them had sworn oaths and proven their loyalty.


    His mother was absent. She remained in the lair she shared with his father, keeping watch over the egg she had laid hardly a week ago. Tideweaver found himself smiling. His mother and father had longed for another child, and he could not be happier for them. He was also looking forward to having a younger sibling. Too often had he been the one to receive wisdom and knowledge from his elders. Having a younger sibling would allow him to pass on what he had learned.


    Until the egg hatched, his mother would not leave it, nor would the guards his father had assigned to protect her and the egg stray from their posts. Tideweaver doubted that anyone would be insane enough to attack his mother and the egg, but it was better to be cautious than to be caught off guard. After all, the world was full of fools, and the actions of a fool could be difficult to predict.


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    His father and his followers had gathered on the beach and in the shallows. They were all dragons connected to water in some way or another, and their scales ranged from the deep blues and greens of dragons associated with the sea and ocean to the muddy browns and lighter blues of dragons associated with rivers, lakes, and estuaries.


    ¡°Tideweaver.¡± His father¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You are bleeding.¡±


    ¡°A kraken along the edges of our territory,¡± Tideweaver replied. ¡°It attacked a merfolk settlement.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± His father¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°I trust that the kraken in question is dead.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Tideweaver bared his teeth. ¡°I slew him myself.¡± He frowned. ¡°However, there was only so much I could do for the merfolk. I gave what aid I could, but it would be best, I think, to dispatch someone better suited to reconstruction to assist them. There should be no further danger, but my talents lie elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Hmm...¡± His father gave a low rumble, and the waves trembled. ¡°I will send Ripplewing. She has only recently experienced her Second Awakening, but she enjoys such tasks and has shown proficiency in them.¡± He gave a thoughtful hum. ¡°And she is... friendlier than most. If the merfolk have to rebuild, it might be better if they dealt with someone more personable.¡±


    ¡°Father... about Doomwing¡¯s message...?¡±


    His father chuckled, and the sound was echoed by the others. It was a stark reminder of how long his father had known Doomwing. ¡°Doomwing is reminding everyone of why he leads ¨C and why we follow.¡± The waves surged and then broke upon Tideweaver¡¯s scales. ¡°Tell me, my son, what do you think of the incentives he offered?¡±


    Tideweaver saw the question for what it was: a test. ¡°I think the two most important incentives are his lectures and advice on awakenings and his teachings about magic.¡±


    His father nodded in approval, and his tail curled. The sea rippled in response. ¡°I agree, and I think it is more than worth it for us to attend.¡± His eyes gleamed, twin pools of azure that soon darkened to indigo. ¡°I will go to the meeting, and I will bring a delegation with me. Benthicscale will be my second.¡±


    Tideweaver glanced at the dragon in question. Benthiscale was the son of his father¡¯s long-dead best friend ¨C a dragon who had perished in battle against Mother Tree¡¯s forces at the end of the Second Age. His father had taken the younger dragon under his wing and raised him as his own. Benthicscale had repaid that kindness with unshakable loyalty. He had also played a large role in Tideweaver¡¯s own upbringing. He was something between an older brother and an uncle, which had made for some awkward moments over the years. Nevertheless, Tideweaver trusted him with his life.


    ¡°I understand.¡± Tideweaver wanted nothing more than to be trusted to act as his father¡¯s second. However, Benthicscale¡¯s experience, wisdom, and power were undeniable. To have him as his father¡¯s second made perfect sense. Out of all the dragons apart from the primordial dragons, Benthicscale was amongst the most widely known and most well respected. ¡°Shall Gulfwing be your third then?¡± The female dragon had followed his father since the Third Age. She was not as mighty as Benthicscale, but she had keen instincts and an eye for detail. Whatever his father or Benthicscale might miss, she was sure to catch, and she had a certain cunning that was often lacking in dragons.


    ¡°No. Only yesterday, she laid an egg.¡±


    Tideweaver blinked. ¡°I did not realise that she and her mate were trying for a child.¡±


    ¡°They did not say anything, lest fortune turn against them.¡± His father¡¯s grin was wide and toothy. ¡°She and Waveroar will be good parents. Naturally, however, neither of them are keen to leave our territory, and I am not so heartless or foolish as to demand that of them.¡±


    It was advice that his father had often given him ¨C never give an order that he knew would not be obeyed. Doing so would only make him seem weak and heartless.


    ¡°Then shall Lakesong be your third?¡± Tideweaver asked. The elderly dragon had yet to achieve his Fourth Awakening, but he possessed keen insight and formidable wisdom and knowledge that the years had yet to dull although he was no longer suitable for frontline combat. He had often served as Tideweaver¡¯s tutor in matters related to history and governance. Despite surpassing him in power, Tideweaver continued to respect him. Competence and loyalty were the two most important traits for a vassal, or so his father had told him. Lakesong possessed both in ample quantities, and it was often said that achieving a Fourth Awakening was as much a matter of luck as it was a question of talent or resources.


    ¡°No.¡± His father reached out and settled one claw upon his shoulder. ¡°You will serve as my third.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Tideweaver stared, and laughter rippled out from the others, sending waves sweeping across the surface of the sea. But there was nothing mocking or cruel about the sound. Indeed, they all seemed pleased, and there was pride in Lakesong¡¯s eyes, perhaps at seeing the success of a former pupil.


    ¡°Yes.¡± His father¡¯s claw tightened ever so slightly. ¡°To survive you need strength, but to thrive requires wisdom. This meeting will be your chance to acquire the wisdom that you lack.¡± He growled. ¡°It has been a long time since all of the primordial dragons have gathered outside of battle. This meeting will be your chance to watch, listen, and learn. It will also give you a chance to connect with others of similar age, particularly the children and descendants of my fellow primordial dragons.¡± His gaze hardened. ¡°I have survived every Catastrophe so far, but should the worst occur, such connections will be useful.¡±


    ¡°Father...¡± Tideweaver wanted to say that there was no chance that his father would ever fall, either in battle or outside it, yet he knew that would be foolish. Instead, he straightened and resolved to be worthy of the trust his father was putting in him. ¡°I will do my best.¡±


    ¡°That is all I can ask,¡± his father said, and then he laughed again, and his tail slapped against Tideweaver¡¯s side. ¡°And perhaps another female will catch your eye at the meeting... one that does not already have a mate, especially one so mighty as Ashheart.¡±


    Tidewaver hissed. ¡°Father!¡±


    His... battle with Ashheart was well known amongst his family¡¯s followers. The younger vassals had not mentioned it, but there had been no shortage of remarks from his father¡¯s older followers, many of whom had also personally experienced the tectonic dragon¡¯s might. It seemed that Tideweaver was not the first ¨C and would certainly not be the last ¨C to test themselves against Ashheart. If it was any consolation, however, none of them had done any better, and many had done worse. Only his father could boast of fighting Ashheart on relatively even footing although his father had also admitted that Ashheart had not been exerting his full strength. In truth, there wasn¡¯t a dragon alive who would be happy to face Ashheart in close combat.


    ¡°You said that Doomwing¡¯s lessons on Awakening and magic are the most important incentives. Explain your reasons.¡±


    Tideweaver shook off his embarrassment and gathered his thoughts. ¡°The First and Second Awakenings are fairly straightforward.¡± He thought back to his many, many lessons on the topic. ¡°For the vast majority of dragons, sufficient power and resources will allow them to achieve their First and Second Awakenings.¡± He bared his teeth. You once told me, father, that any fool with enough resources and a properly situated lair would be able to achieve their Second Awakening.¡±


    ¡°Doomwing was actually the first person to say that although he followed that remark with a lecture about all the ways a proper First or Second Awakening would surpass one achieved through a glut of resources and power alone.¡±


    Tideweaver shuddered. He could still remember the preparations he¡¯d undergone before undertaking his First Awakening. His father and Lakesong had made it very, very, very clear that he was to refine himself as much as possible, so that he could build upon a solid foundation. As a hatchling, he had been eager to advance, and he had felt the occasional stab of resentment, half-convinced that they were trying to slow his progress. It was only later, after achieving his Third and Fourth Awakenings that he¡¯d realised just how important the foundations he¡¯d laid all those years ago truly were. Indeed, Lakesong had mentioned his own youthful follies more than once, citing them as the cause for his own struggles to achieve a Fourth Awakening.


    ¡°However, the Third Awakening is much more difficult,¡± Tideweaver said. ¡°As for Fourth Awakenings, they are harder still, and the requirements are unique for each dragon. It is often said that without good luck, even a talented dragon will not be able to achieve their Fourth Awakening.¡±


    ¡°Yes, which is why Doomwing¡¯s lectures and advice on Awakenings are so valuable,¡± his father said.


    ¡°Nobody knows more about Awakenings than him,¡± Tideweaver said. ¡°With his knowledge and wisdom, our younger followers will be able to lay better foundations. Meanwhile he might also be able to help those amongst our followers who are struggling to attain a Third or Fourth Awakening.¡± He glanced at Lakesong, and the hunger in the older dragon¡¯s eyes was clear. If anyone would be able to help him, it would be Doomwing, and with his age showing more and more with each passing year, he was running out of time.


    His father glanced out over the sea and reached out with one claw. For a moment, the surface of the sea was completely still for miles around. ¡°Power matters, my son. And there are few things more powerful than a dragon who has achieved their Fourth Awakening. It was not a coincidence that Soulseeker only dared to attack Regal Flame while she and her mightiest followers were still recovering from the injuries they suffered against the Exiled Star. And it is no coincidence that none have dared to attack her since. Setting aside her personal power, she not only has the most followers but also the most followers who have achieved their Fourth Awakening. Think of the kraken you fought. Would you have managed to defeat it before your Fourth Awakening? Every Fourth Awakening dragon we have adds to our power considerably.¡±


    Tideweaver nodded grimly. The very same kraken he had killed with relative ease would have slaughtered him prior to his Fourth Awakening. That was how big the jump in power was. His own Fourth Awakening was not simply a matter of pride ¨C it had made protecting his family¡¯s territory significantly easier. His father was powerful, but he could not be everywhere at once. Moreover, his mother, whose power was second only to his father¡¯s, was now devoting herself entirely to safeguarding their egg.


    ¡°As for the lessons on magic that Doomwing offers,¡± Tideweaver continued. ¡°His knowledge and power in that field are unmatched. For those who specialise in magic, I can think of few things more tempting than a chance to learn from him.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± His father drew himself up to his full height. ¡°Make your preparations. We will leave tomorrow morning. Amongst your followers, pick three that are approaching their first Awakening, two that are approaching their Second Awakening, and one that is approaching their Third Awakening. They will accompany us.¡±


    ¡°Understood, father.¡± Tideweaver tried ¨C and failed ¨C to hide his joy. Being able to bring his own followers meant that he was not only responsible for their safety but also for ensuring they obtained as many benefits as possible. It was a chance for him to show that he knew how to handle his followers properly, an important task now that he had achieved his own Fourth Awakening and could begin to create his own faction, albeit under his father¡¯s rule. ¡°I won¡¯t let you down.¡±

 Chapter 56: The Dragons Consider

    Chapter 56: The Dragons Consider


    Ruinscale glanced down at the landscape beneath her. This land belonged to her father, and like any land claimed by a primordial dragon, it had come to reflect his lineage. This far from the centre of his domain, the land was dominated by a towering forest. Yet there was something unsettling about it, a shadow that lingered as much in the mind as in the eye. The darkness was deeper beneath the trees than it should be, and the trees themselves were twisted into strange shapes that hinted at powers best left unspoken.


    The creatures that dwelt within the forest were no less unsettling. Their movements were too swift and too silent, and their eyes were too sharp and too knowing. There was a wrongness to the place, a sense of unease that built the longer someone lingered until it grew into a stifling sense of terror ¨C a horror that lurked in the subtleties, a nightmare found more in the details and fuelled more by a thousand mismatching moments than any drawn-out exclamation of fright.


    But to Ruinscale and those who shared her father¡¯s lineage, the forest and its oddities were more welcoming than threatening. The forest and all within it were reminders of her father¡¯s power, and the brooding shadows that lurked beneath the trees and skulked amidst the undergrowth were more like familiar friends than enemies.


    Beyond the forest, the tall, twisted trees gave way to a seemingly endless morass, a swamp ruled by burbling brooks of dark, muddy water that circled countless small islands dotted with mangroves, maples, birches, oaks, and cypresses. The trees were different from those of the forest, shorter, broader, and strangely cage-like. Reeds swayed back and forth in winds that did little to dispel the air of unease that lingered over the swamp like a shroud. The massive forms of swamp hydras eased through the muck, and countless eyes watched and waited from the swirling, turbid waters.


    In her younger days, Ruinscale had often lingered there. She had even befriended many of the hydras that dwelt there. They were strange creatures, so different from dragons, but friendly in their own way. As the years had passed, distance had grown between them, and one by one, almost all of them had passed away, unable to escape the shackles of time. Only a few of them remained. The greatest amongst them was the primordial hydra that her father had befriended in the long-ago days of his own youth.


    But that hydra seldom ventured far from the deepest, darkest parts of the swamp. She was content to dwell in the heart of darkness, nesting amidst the roots of a dryad¡¯s tree. She would care for her young until they were old enough to fend for themselves and then send them out into the swamp to seek their fortune. Some would have called it cruel. But the hydra had seen the passing of the Ages. She had seen the fall of the gods and the betrayal of Mother Tree. She had endured the rising of the seas and madness of the dead. She had witnessed a corrupted star wage war and seen the nightmares of a fox made manifest. She knew better than most how cruel the world could be, and she would not coddle her children.


    Looming over the whole swamp was the dryad¡¯s tree. In the days of the Third Age, the waters of the world had risen and drowned the land. Only the dryad had endured, her tree standing firm in the face of waves that had swallowed mountains. Tall it stood, tall and twisted, but unbroken and unbowed. Its branches reached out toward the sky, wings of wood greater than any dragon¡¯s, so wide they seemed to cast the whole swamp into perpetual twilight. No starlight fell upon the swamp, nor moonshine. Instead, the leaves of the tree gleamed like stars, and the flowers upon the branches shone like so many moons.


    Ruinscale flew past the swamp. Beyond it, the murmuring streams and whispering reeds came to an end. In their place was a desert, vast and splendid in its loneliness. This was the nature of her father¡¯s power. A corruption dragon twisted everything around them. At a distance, her father¡¯s presence could turn a thriving forest into a place of shadow and gloom. A stream-strewn meadow could become a swamp. And a once fertile plain turned into a desert where the song of the wind was heard only by sand and stone.


    At the edges of the desert, the sands were a deep, rusty red. But the further she flew, the paler the sands grew. At the very heart of her father¡¯s domain, at the centre of his power, the sands were a white paler than bone. So many thought of black as the colour of corruption, of rot, decay, and desolation. They were wrong. In the end, corruption left nothing behind. It consumed all that it touched ¨C and white sands, brittle and coarse, were all that remained.


    While others could live further away, and there were still those who called the outer regions of the desert home, only her father and those of his lineage could linger at the centre of his territory for long. Even she, his own flesh and blood, could feel the vice grip of his power slowly tightening around her.


    Ruinscale¡¯s gaze drifted to the lonely mountain that stood at the very centre of the desert. Long ago, it had belonged to a kingdom of dwarves. They had been friends of her father, but their domain had flooded in the Third Age. Few had survived, and there were times when she could almost hear the cries of those trapped within the mountain as the waters rose and their storied halls turned into tombs. The few survivors had fled, eventually establishing a new kingdom ¨C only to perish in battle against the Lord of the Tides, their island citadels offering little safety in the face of the Catastrophe¡¯s wrath.


    After the Lord of the Tides had been slain and the waters of the world receded, her father had returned to the mountain to establish his domain. Perhaps sentimentality had played a part, but he had a far more practical reason to choose this place. The grim fate of the dwarves whose mountain had been swallowed by the sea, along with the island citadels that had shared the same fate, had forever darkened the currents of magic here. To others such magic would have been a curse. To her father and those of his lineage, it was a blessing, a natural wellspring of power that only they could make proper use of.


    In the days of the Second Age, the mountain¡¯s slopes had been dyed red from the iron within it. The dwarves had called it the Iron Blood Mountain. In the Third Age, that same iron had stained the water and given the seas that swallowed the mountain a different name. The dwarves had called it the Sea of Blood, a fitting name for a place where so many had perished.


    Now, however, the mountain was white, bled of all colour by her father¡¯s might.


    Landing near the mountain, Ruinscale took a moment to ponder the contrast. Like her father, her scales were black. As a corruption dragon ¨C someone who had achieved their Fourth Awakening ¨C her scales were a black so deep they seemed to devour light rather than reflect it. More than one of her fellow dragons had told her that it was like staring at a shard of the night shaped into the form of a dragon. Her eyes were a deep purple, a shade so dark they could almost be confused with black. At first glance, her wings might seem tattered, but appearances could be deceiving. In truth, her wings were as strong as any dragon¡¯s, and her flight every bit as swift.


    Sensing her presence, her father emerged from the depths of the mountain. It was there, deep beneath the earth, that he exerted his full strength, weaving magics of terrible power and crafting all manner of items. It was also why her mother was not present. She was tending to Ruinscale¡¯s youngest sibling. Her youngest brother had yet to undergo his First Awakening. Despite belonging to the same lineage, he would not have lasted long if exposed to the full weight of her father¡¯s power.


    Her father appeared, a mile long and every bit as imposing as a primordial dragon should be. His own scales were an even deeper black than hers. It was less like staring at a shard of the night and more like staring at a hole in the world itself. It was difficult to focus on him, so greedily did his scales drink in the light. Instead, it was easier to track him the way she would have tracked a shadow spreading across a well-lit wall.


    Rather than violet, his eyes were twin pools of obsidian, lighter than his scales but only because they reflected the light rather than absorbed it. Onyx fire kindled briefly in his jaws, pitch-black flame that did not burn so much as it rotted, corrupted, and decayed all that it touched until there was nothing left. She could still remember the last time he¡¯d used it in earnest. She had seen a dragon who had achieved their Fourth Awakening die screaming, their scales turning to dust, their flesh rotting away, and their bones reduced to powder even as their cries still echoed in the air. It was not without reason that few ever challenged her father. Death at his hands would not come easily, and it could not, by any stretch, be considered a mercy.


    Her father stared up at the sky ¨C here, at the heart of his domain, even the sunlight seemed sullen, pale orange rather than radiant gold ¨C and then he beckoned her forward. She joined him on the slopes of the mountain and bowed her head. As his eldest child, she had come to hold a position of authority, and much had been left in her care, especially while her mother focused on helping her youngest sibling push toward his First Awakening. Only after he had achieved it would it be safe for him to venture beyond the edges of the forest that marked the true start of her father¡¯s domain.


    ¡°You are here because of the message.¡± Her father¡¯s voice soft, yet it carried clearly through the air. For a primordial dragon, there had always been something oddly gentle about him. It had taken her a long time to understand why. Some might have mistaken his gentleness for weakness, but it was the opposite. His mere presence could turn fertile fields into deserts and seas into bogs. He spoke softly and kept tight-rein over his powers to avoid harming others needlessly. It was a kindness, and it came from a position of overwhelming strength, not weakness.


    Compared to many, her father¡¯s domain had suffered little when the Sixth Catastrophe had unleashed her mind-warping magics. Why? It was simple. Those magics had rotted on the vine, the intricate spell craft and mystical minutiae unable to hold their shape and form in the face of the corrosive power that permeated her father¡¯s territory.


    ¡°Yes, father.¡± Ruinscale inclined her head in respect only to startle as her father ignored her attempts to remain respectful in favour of pulling her to his side with one of his wings. ¡°Father...¡±


    ¡°You have grown strong, my daughter, and the days when you needed my protection are far behind you. Now, only the mightiest of foes can threaten you. Yet... I am still your father. You may have forgotten, but I still remember when you were but a hatchling. No matter how many years pass or how mighty you become, there will always be a part of me that looks at you and sees that hatchling.¡±


    Ruinscale hissed. ¡°Father!¡± Only her father would dare to treat her in such a manner. Even her mother no longer treated her like a child. She was her father¡¯s heir, and she had established her position as his rightful second. In matters pertaining to her father¡¯s domain, she now held more sway than even her mother, and only her father could gainsay her.


    ¡°Hmph.¡± His eyes gleamed, and his amusement was easy to see. However, his gaze soon sharpened, and she felt the air stir, the very wind quivering as some of his strength bled into their surroundings. Had she not achieved her Fourth Awakening, she would have been driven to her knees, and her very scales would have begun to fade, stripped of their colour. As it was, she held firm, and the amusement that lurked in his gaze shifted to approval. ¡°Things are changing. Doomwing has always been content to remain aloof. Even in the Sixth Age, when he dwelt in that human kingdom, he gave little thought to the world at large. Provided no one was doing anything truly foolish, he was content to leave them be. Now, however, I am told that he seeks to establish a proper domain of his own.¡± r§¡¦­O???¦¥S?


    ¡°Who told you?¡± Ruinscale asked. She had heard rumours of that herself, but Doomwing had not been awake for long, and her father had been deep within his mountain working on an important project. It was possible that he had communicated with the other primordial dragons, but he was not one to indulge in gossip. Indeed, there was generally little need for him to bother with the affairs of others since their domain¡¯s natural defences were so potent. Even setting aside her father¡¯s power, the combined powers of his followers that shared his lineage meant that anyone attacking them would be greatly weakened long before they ever had a chance to strike at them.


    Instead of an answer, he gazed up at the sky again. Ruinscale followed his gaze, and her eyes widened. A fissure had formed in the sky above them, and it spread like a crack across a frozen lake. For a moment, time itself seemed to pause as the crack elongated and then rippled outward, spiralling into an intricate pattern than her eyes refused to focus on. Space twisted and bent, and the dull rays of the sun spun madly before they stopped entirely. Colour bled out of their surroundings ¨C the whole world reduced to an eerie collage of whites, greys, and blacks ¨C before rushing back, a kaleidoscope of different hues exploding into existence as time flowed once more and space unfolded once again.


    But where there had once been empty sky, a dragon now floated overhead, roughly nine tenths the size of her father with scales of purple and blue, an enchanting mix of azures, sapphires, indigos, violets, and magentas. Vivid patterns swirled to life upon those scales only to be replaced a heartbeat later, pinwheels of colour accompanied by vivid bursts of brightness that granted the dragon a kaleidoscopic appearance ¨C which was most fitting indeed, given her identity. Eyes whose colour and pattern changed in counterpoint to those entrancing scales peered down at them, filled with warmth and affection. Graceful wings folded only to unfurl at the very last moment as the dragon descended to land beside them.


    ¡°Fractal Reign,¡± her father murmured. His voice was quiet, but the affection it held was deep and implacable, akin to the rivers that ran far beneath the bleached sands of the desert. Words both spoken and unspoken lay heavily between her father and the new arrival, and Ruinscale was glad that her mother was not there. Long had her mother and father been mates. Yet long ago, long, long ago before circumstances had forced them apart, Fractal Reign had been the one to live at her father¡¯s side.


    ¡°Oblivioncaller.¡± Fractal Reign inclined her head. A lesser dragon might have sought physical contact, but she had sworn an oath to Ruinscale¡¯s mother, and so she maintained a certain distance, not far, but not close either. Ruinscale¡¯s father noted the distance, accepted it, and returned the gesture. And then Fractal Reign¡¯s attention shifted to Ruinscale, and her there was genuine delight in her voice as she spoke. ¡°You have grown considerably stronger since we last met, and your magic has become incredibly stable. Amongst dragons of the Fourth Awakening, I doubt there are many who can best you ¨C save, of course, for primordial dragons like your father and I.¡±


    Ruinscale found herself smiling. Whatever history lay between Fractal Reign and her parents, the primordial dragon had only ever been kind to her, and she had never hesitated to offer useful advice and wise counsel. ¡°Thank you. I have done my best to make use of the help you have provided.¡±


    ¡°A good pupil is every bit as important as a good teacher.¡±


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    Of all the primordial dragons, it was widely accepted that Doomwing was the most powerful and skilled when it came to magic. However, it was also accepted that Fractal Reign was second in both power and skill. Indeed, there were areas where she actually surpassed Doomwing. What truly set Doomwing apart was the sheer breadth and depth of his knowledge. Fractal Reign was a specialist whereas Doomwing was a true generalist ¨C a generalist who somehow had deeper knowledge and understanding of even the most esoteric fields than those who were supposed to specialise in them. Her father had once remarked that Doomwing possessed talent that verged on madness. When Ruinscale had told Fractal Reign, the older dragon had simply smiled and said that her father¡¯s words were not far from the truth at all.


    ¡°You must have heard Doomwing¡¯s message. Even your wards would not have been able to block it,¡± Ruinscale¡¯s father rumbled.


    ¡°I heard it.¡± Fractal Reign¡¯s eyes shimmered violet, and streaks of indigo traced their way from the edges of her pupil to the corners of her eyes. ¡°To do such a thing... I did not think it possible. Dragons have not wielded magic in that manner in a long time, not since the First Age.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Ruinscale¡¯s father paused, and black fire crept along his jaw. ¡°What have you seen?¡±


    ¡°Many things, but you know as well as I do that what I see need not come to pass.¡± Fractal Reign stared into the distance. ¡°A crown of fire with six points and flames of blue and red.¡± She chuckled. ¡°But the image was so faint that I cannot be sure if it was a dream, a road unwalked, or a path still to come.¡±


    Ruinscale shivered. Fractal Reign had many gifts, but perhaps the greatest was her ability to glimpse the threads of past, present, and future. What she saw was not guaranteed to pass. Indeed, Fractal Reign had once told her that sometimes she saw things that had already passed ¨C but in other worlds, variants of their own. It hard to accept, but the older dragon had once likened it to a house of mirrors, with each world a variation of a theme, a twisted reflection born from different choices.


    It was said that Fractal Reign¡¯s father, Paradox Fang had possessed a similar gift. That legendary dragon had been able to read the flow of cause and consequence in a manner that verged on precognition. Like Sovereign Flame, he had been personally created by the Seven Gods, and he had served as Sovereign Flame¡¯s second until the end. Indeed, he had been the second last of the great dragons of old to fall, and it had been his power that had paved the way for Sovereign Flame to wound that most terrible of foes.


    ¡°I take it you will be going to the meeting?¡± Ruinscale¡¯s father said. ¡°You would not have come here if you intended to stay within your domain.¡±


    ¡°You know me well.¡± Fractal Reign nodded. ¡°I will be going to the meeting, and I will take some of my followers with me. There are matters I must discuss with Doomwing and the others.¡± Her lips curled. ¡°A pebble may roll slowly from the top of the mountain, but the landslide it births may crash with great force at the base. I trust you will be attending as well.¡±


    ¡°I have been considering it.¡± He glanced at Ruinscale. ¡°You know how loath I am to leave my lands. However, meetings of this kind are rare. I would be foolish to forego attendance. Besides, my daughter has done very well in her duties. In truth, she could already rule over my territory. All she needs now is more power and experience, and the meeting will provide both.¡±


    ¡°The meeting will definitely provide both,¡± Fractal Reign said, and Ruinscale shivered again. There was certainty in her voice, not the kind that came from confidence in Ruinscale alone. Fractal Reign had seen something.


    ¡°You are certain?¡± Ruinscale¡¯s father asked.


    ¡°As certain as I can be.¡± Fractal Reign¡¯s father had been the mightiest of all dragons belonging to the rift dragon lineage, and her mother had been amongst the greatest of the dragons from the dream dragon lineage. In a way, she could almost be considered a distant cousin of both Doomwing and Dreamsong. ¡°Both the tides of fate and the lines of cause and consequence agree.¡±


    Ruinscale¡¯s father chuckled. ¡°How fortunate. Then I shall have to attend, and Ruinscale shall go with me as my second.¡± He paused, and his silence was heavy with thoughts that had long troubled him. ¡°The world is not always kind to those of my lineage. Perhaps more than any other, we affect our surroundings. Where we go, death and decay too often follow. This desert around me... it was not always so. You know what it was like. After the seas receded, it was a place of life and vitality. There were flowers here with colours like your scales, and the spirits of the wind sang of verdant hills and lush valleys. Now, only bleached sand remains, and the spirits of the wind can no longer even remember the scent of flowers in full bloom.¡± He clenched one enormous claw. ¡°That is why I have spent so much of my time crafting treasures that can contain that effect. The hatchlings need them too. They can be careless at times, and their friends have not the strength of mine.¡±


    Fractal Reign said nothing, and Ruinscale wondered if she was seeing the past now ¨C the meadows, the flowers, and the rolling, green landscape. Finally, her gaze returned to the present. ¡°He will be at the meeting too. He is strong enough to bare your presence now. He has been strong enough for a long time.¡±


    Her father¡¯s jaw tightened, and Ruinscale thought back to the stories she¡¯d heard of the older brother she¡¯d never met. He took after Fractal Reign, and he had almost died as a hatchling, his fragile life nearly snuffed out by her father¡¯s presence. Her father had never forgiven himself for that, and he had kept his distance ever since.


    ¡°He has never disliked you,¡± Fractal Reign said. She gestured, and several crystal appeared. ¡°I brought these for you. They contain my memories of him, the new ones I¡¯ve made since I gave you the last set. You have punished yourself long enough. You should go.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Her father gave another low rumble. ¡°But what makes you say that? What have you seen?¡±


    ¡°It is not something I have seen.¡± Fractal Reign spread her wings and took to the air. ¡°It is something that I know.¡± Once more, the sky split, and a kaleidoscope of twisted space and frozen time rippled outward. When it cleared, Fractal Reign was gone, yet Ruinscale¡¯s father continued to stare at the empty sky. Slowly, the tension eased from his frame, and he turned back to Ruinscale.


    ¡°Make your preparations. We will go to the meeting. It is time we renewed old alliances and forged new ones. And... perhaps it is time I saw your brother again. It has been too long since I saw him with my own eyes.¡±


    Fractal Reign settled back into her lair, and a faint frown crossed her features. Even now, after all these years, it still sometimes felt odd to call it that. It had been her father¡¯s lair, a marvel wrought with his magic ¨C and Paradox Fang had been the most skilled of all the ancient dragons in the mystic arts. Sovereign Flame had dwelt in the grandest of mountains, but there had been no mountain for her father, no cave or castle. Instead, he had used his power to tear great chunks of rock from the ground. He had crafted islands out of them and used his magic to set them in the sky. Even his titanic reserves would have been hard-pressed to hold them there for long, so he had bent the very currents of magic in the sea and sky to sustain more permanent magics. To defend his realm, he had combined both secrecy and security. The barrier he had placed around his domain could weather all but the very mightiest of blows, but what made it truly remarkable was the way it warped space and time to veil his domain from the outside world. Even Doomwing, for all his skill and power, had never managed to find his way there without an invitation.


    The last time Doomwing had visited, he had grumbled about how impossible it all was. Yet that was the nature of a paradox dragon ¨C the Fourth Awakening of the rift dragon lineage ¨C the power to bend the rules that governed reality until the impossible became possible.


    At the heart of the domain she had inherited stood the project her father had bequeathed to her, the one he had never been able to start. There had been no time for them to speak of it. Instead, he had left her with plans and ideas, some of which were scarcely better than mad ravings. She had spent much of the Second Age deciphering them and deciding what was and was not plausible. In the end, however, she had come to the same conclusion he had. The project was to be hers alone because, for all his power, it was not something he could ever have accomplished himself. Only someone of her lineage could see it through to completion.


    She glanced at her right wing to the scar that still remained. She could easily have removed it, but she had chosen to leave it there as a reminder. Her father had given it to her himself on the day he¡¯d died alongside the gods and so many of their fellow dragons. He had looked at her with those eyes that could read the flow of cause and consequence ¨C a predictive power so immense it bordered on precognition ¨C and then he had struck, ensuring that she would not be able to follow him.


    She had begged him to heal her, but he had refused. Instead, he had spoken of what her mother had glimpsed in the currents of the Deep Dreaming. Of the dozen children he had, only two could be saved. Her mother had seen that, and she had seen the two that had to live. Only Fractal Reign and her eldest brother could be saved, and her brother had already left. He had not gone to another part of their world. Instead, he had fled their world with clutches of eggs given by those willing to take a chance. He had gone as far as his and their father¡¯s power could throw him, and he had orders of his own to follow.


    But Fractal Reign was to remain. She had to complete the great work her father had imagined, the same master work her mother had dreamed of. At the time, Fractal Reign had wondered why her mother had not come to explain her vision in greater detail. Few were as adept in reading the chaotic ebb and flow of the dreaming lands. Only later did Mother Tree tell her the truth. Her mother, so very fond of delving into the Deep Dreaming, had been driven insane by the shockwaves of the Broken God¡¯s birth. It had taken all of her remaining strength to convey her vision to Fractal Reign¡¯s father, and then she had died, screaming about the abomination that dared to mimic the gods.


    The reason that her father had entrusted this project to her was simple. Of all the children born between dragons belonging to the same lineages as her mother and father, only she combined the powers of both. There had been no name for her lineage, for she had been the first. And until the birth of her son, she had seen little reason to come up with a name. Why bother when she was the only one? But then her son had been born, and a name had come to mind, a name for the dragon she had become after her Fourth Awakening.


    Kaleidoscope dragon.


    Chance and probability, fate and destiny, cause and consequence ¨C the fusion of her father¡¯s ability to predict things with her mother¡¯s ability to read the currents of the dreaming lands. The result was an ability akin to peering through a kaleidoscope. It was possible for her to glimpse the past, the present, and the future ¨C and not simply of her world, but other worlds, alternate worlds. Of course, her gift was not without limitations.


    The past was easier to glimpse, for it had already occurred. Yet even then, her vision could only see so far. For example, no matter how hard she tried, the exact origins of the Broken God were hidden from her. There were also times when she glimpsed other pasts, alternate histories belonging to worlds besides her own. Some made her feel fortunate whilst others left her filled with longing.


    The present was easier, yet it was always in motion, and it was so very easy to lose herself in the shadows cast by possible futures, to be caught staring at what could be instead of what was. Yet to linger too long on mere possibilities was the path to madness.


    The future was the hardest to see. Many believed that it could be predicted, if only enough was known. She had learned very early on how foolish that belief was. Merely peering into the future could change it, and there were forces out there that could she could not perceive ¨C forces that could nevertheless alter the future. The Exiled Star had been one such enemy. He had been a hole in her foresight, a force and power she had been unable to see. Yet she had glimpsed the ruin he would wreak and the death he would sow.


    Fractal Reign was no master of destiny, no helmsman who could steer fate. In the end, all she could do was peer into a sea of countless possibilities and try to tease out which currents fate would follow.


    Her power also manifested in another way. When she looked at someone with her power, she saw them ¨C and not simply as they were. She saw the shadows of who they had been... and the shadows of who they might become. When she had begged her father to let her follow him, he had asked her to look at him, to see the fate that awaited him.


    A long trail of shadows stretched out behind him, a testament to the long years of his life. But before him, there were no shadows, not even a hint. She had known then what despair was. In all the countless futures there were, in all the possible ways the battle ahead could go, there were none in which he lived. Her father¡¯s death was not a possibility. It was a certainty in every world, in every past, in every future.


    The last time that Fractal Reign had laid eyes upon Doomwing, she had seen the long shadows stretching out behind him, the remnants of Ages. And yet, ahead of him, dim, so dim she could barely see it, there had been a spark, an ember that she had seen only once before.


    When her father had gathered his followers, Sovereign Flame had arrived. Like her father, there had been no shadows ahead of him, no fate save death in the battle that lay before him. And yet there had been a spark, an ember of something more waiting just before his death. And somehow, he had managed to wound the Broken God, a feat no dragon should have been capable of.


    Once again, she thought of the vision she¡¯d glimpsed of the crown of red and blue flames. She¡¯d seen it elsewhere, in a world where Doomwing had gone mad, a parting gift sent by that world¡¯s version of her. That Doomwing had torn his world asunder, had carved out its heart and feasted on it to become something greater than even the mightiest of their ancestors. The Doomwing she knew would rather die than despoil the world his parents and childhood friend had died defending, that so many he had cherished over the years had fallen protecting. The crown she had seen then had been a bitter thing, forged of blood and tears and madness. The crown she¡¯d glimpsed in her vision had been no such thing. It had been a crown of god-metal and living wood, a crown that bound the tides and the dead, a crown that outshone the stars and gave life to old dreams. It was the crown of someone who loved the world and was loved by it in turn, the crown of a fool too stubborn to give up when so many others would have surrendered. It was the crown of a king she would be glad to follow.


    And yet... and yet the vision ¨C that crown ¨C has slipped through her claws, a single current amidst an ocean of possibilities. So many times had Doomwing been able to thread the needle. She wanted to believe that he could do it once again.


    Every instinct she had told her that the days ahead would be important. Like a tsunami, fate and destiny were moving, difficult to discern in deep waters, yet their impact would be undeniable in the shallow waters ahead. She needed to be at the meeting. It was important enough that she would pause the work that had occupied almost all of her life.


    Her project was to be a beacon and a shield, a door and a key.


    A beacon to the brother who¡¯d left, so he might one day find his way home. A shield to guard their world from those beyond it who would do them harm. A door, in case her brother had found a safe place for them, and a key to unlock the way forward, whatever that might be. It was a kaleidoscope in its own right, and when it was complete, she needed only to turn it until the right view became visible.


    ¡°Mother.¡±


    She turned. Her son, Enigma Flare, was there. He was silhouetted in the light of her project, the radiance cast by the countless arcane symbols covering the titanic construct of exotic materials gleaming upon his scales. Only those of her lineage could work upon it, which meant that only she and her son could see to its completion. For that reason, she seldom left her domain, and she left much of its rule up to her trusted subordinates.


    ¡°How was father?¡± he asked. He might share her appearance in many ways, but his voice was a gift from his father, soft and gentle, yet filled with strength.


    ¡°He is well.¡± She let her words linger in the air before continuing. ¡°He will be going to the meeting. You will be able to meet with him.¡±


    His eyes widened. ¡°Is that so? I had seen it, but still... I am glad.¡± He frowned faintly. ¡°Yet... I have seen other things too.¡±


    ¡°What did you see?¡±


    ¡°A light once gone might return although when I cannot say, and the paths that lead safely here are few and far between.¡±


    Fractal Reign¡¯s brows furrowed. She was almost certain she knew whom he spoke of, and she was not sure how to feel about it. Dawnscale had been the one to save Enigma Flare¡¯s life when Oblivioncaller¡¯s power had almost killed him. However, her... desertion... even if Fractal Reign had known it was possible... to have it happen had still been a bitter pill to swallow. Yet she had still let her go because of all the fates she¡¯d seen, leaving had been her old friend¡¯s best chance to survive. And as long as she was alive, there was still hope for her. Whether it was happiness here or elsewhere, Fractal Reign would not begrudge Dawnscale that, not after she had saved Enigma Flare¡¯s life.


    ¡°Is that so? Then we must remain cautious. In the meantime, prepare.¡± She bared her teeth. ¡°Perhaps you can find a mate at the meeting.¡± She chortled. ¡°You know, neither you nor your half-siblings have found mates. Your father has long hoped for grandchildren to spoil. He grows jealous of Stormbringer who has already had several.¡±


    Her son scowled. ¡°Mother, please. Speak no more of such things.¡±

 Chapter 57: The Dragon and His Brothers

    Chapter 57: The Dragon and His Brothers


    Long and long did Quakeclaw slumber in the embrace of the world. Few were the dreams that came to him, and those that lingered were less dreams and more memories. For the world remembered. It remembered the voices that had once joined his, the voices that had spoken to earth and rock and stone.


    There had been three of them once, three brothers, but now only one remained. One had been too cowardly and too cunning. The other had been too brave and too foolish. Flawed they were, but they had been his brothers, and he had not loved them any less for all their faults.


    In his dreams, the earth spoke to him. It spoke of the rise and fall of mountains, of rivers carving canyons into the rock and chasms born of the world¡¯s shifting bones. Dragons were creatures of fire and wind, blessed by the sun, the moon, and the stars. But he and his lineage were not seekers of clear skies. It was not the wind that called to them, not the ever-distant horizon that no wings could ever reach.


    He and his kin were the bones of the world, and it was the earth that called to them, the rock and stone that held their hearts. There in the depths, beyond the reach of sky or sun or star, in caverns as vast as any ocean, they made their homes.


    And it was there that Quakeclaw dreamed and remembered. It was there that three brothers still lived beyond the reach of time or treachery.


    The oldest of them had been Earthroar, and Chasmfang had been the youngest. Quakeclaw had been between them, but only a handful of years had separated him and his younger brother. More years had separated him from Earthroar, for his older brother had already been a dragon grown by the time he had hatched.


    When the Broken God had awakened, their father had answered the call and gone off to battle. He had brought Earthroar with him, but Quakeclaw and Chasmfang had been too young to follow. They had been so very young and so very foolish. They had not feared for their father or their brother. They could not imagine that all the gods would fall and that so many of their people would perish alongside them. Instead, they had waited, ready to welcome their victorious father and brother home.


    But only their brother would return, and it was only later, much later, that Quakeclaw would learn why he had survived when so many others, more powerful, had fallen. His father had faced the Broken God head on, and his bravery had killed him. His brother had fled, and his cowardice had saved his life.


    As their father and the greatest dragons of the Age had fallen, his brother had hidden in a cave.


    There had been shame in his brother¡¯s eyes upon his return, but that shame had soon given way to calculation. His brother had never been especially powerful, but he had always been cunning. With so many of their kind dead, he suddenly found himself in a position of authority. So very few dragons of the Fourth Awakening had remained, and he¡¯d been one of them.


    There were others who had done as his brother had, either fleeing the battle or refusing to answer the call in the first place. With the greatest of their kind dead, these survivors sought to replace those who had fallen. Who would gainsay them? The mightiest and most valiant of dragons were dead. Only children and cowards remained.


    And so they plotted and planned. Quakeclaw¡¯s brother schemed to take Regal Flame as his mate. The dragons had no king, but Sovereign Flame had been the greatest of them all. To take his daughter for a mate would wash away the stain of his cowardice and exalt him above all others. But his brother and the others had not counted on Mother Tree.


    The dryad had never raised her hand against them. She had always been content to serve as educator and nurturer. But this, it seemed, was not something she could allow. It would be years before he learned the truth, but Mother Tree would invite all of the conspirators to her. She wished to discuss the new arrangements.


    They assumed it would be akin to a coronation. Instead, it turned into an execution. They forgot that although Mother Tree could not wander far, there were none living who could match her power within her domain after the gods had fallen. Even the greatest of them, the titans of the First Age, would have tried to burn her from afar instead of confronting her directly. And the conspirators were so much less than the legends who had fallen. They died ¨C all of them ¨C and their remains were hidden amidst her roots and the roots of her daughters ¨C the relics of the past turned into the foundations of the future.


    Her madness must have started then ¨C the moment she realised that the world might be better if she ruled instead of merely offering counsel.


    Quakeclaw¡¯s brother had been a coward and a traitor, but he had loved him still. Doomwing might have wept after Mother Tree fell, but Quakeclaw had bathed in the ashes of her ruin.


    Chasmfang had been the opposite. Despite there only being a handful of years between them, he had always been so much smaller than Quakeclaw, so much weaker. But there had been no doubting his courage. His brave brother had always been the first into battle and the last to leave. If only his bravery had equalled his power, he would have been the greatest of them all.


    When the time came to prove himself against the Catastrophes, Chasmfang had never hesitated to give his all. Yet Quakeclaw could not help but wonder how much of his younger brother¡¯s eagerness could be laid at the feet of his older brother¡¯s cowardice and treachery. None would dare speak such words in his presence, but he knew what others whispered when they thought he couldn¡¯t hear.


    Their brother had been a traitor. Were they truly any different?


    Where there was one coward in a family, there might easily be another.


    How long would it be before they showed themselves craven and treacherous?


    Those whispers ¨C and more ¨C haunted his younger brother. Quakeclaw paid little attention to them, but his brother had never been able to ignore them. His relatively small size coupled with his weakness for a dragon of his age and lineage made him especially sensitive to rumours and insults. Chasmfang had been determined to prove himself not only to show his own quality but also to show he was different from their brother.


    Despite everything, Chasmfang had done well, first in the war against Mother Tree and then again in the battle against the Lord of the Tides and his forces. Perhaps those successes had made him overconfident, but at the end of the Fourth Age, he dared to face the mad vampire alone.


    He was lucky ¨C exceedingly lucky ¨C to survive that encounter. Quakeclaw was simply glad beyond words that his brother had survived his folly. However, his brother was haunted by his failure. Although none dared to say it openly, there were whispers amongst the dragons who had not had the misfortune of encountering the Fourth Catastrophe themselves that his brother was a coward and weakling. After all, how could a primordial dragon possibly lose to a mere vampire? Fools, the lot of them. The Fourth Catastrophe had been no mere vampire, and it had taken Doomwing¡¯s mightiest sorcery to lay the madman low. That his brother had faced him in single combat and lived spoke volumes of his prowess. None of those who whispered such insults would have survived longer than a minute.


    In the end, it was his brother¡¯s injured pride that would prove to be his undoing. When the Exiled Star had entered the world, he had left a trail of ruin in his wake. His arrival had been so swift and unexpected that all of the primordial dragons had been caught off guard. They had expected a spirit bloated on the power of false worship or a psychic parasite with delusions of godhood. They had not expected a shard of something incomprehensibly beyond them to descend into their world.


    Doomwing had called for a skirmishing force to delay the Catastrophe to allow the rest of them to assemble. Chasmfang had immediately volunteered to lead that force. That fool, that brave, brave fool. He had seen the chance to prove his valour and wash away the shame of his defeat at the hands of the mad vampire, and he had seized it without hesitation.


    And he had paid for it with his life.


    Even now, after so many years, Quakeclaw could still remember those final moments.


    His brother had sent frantic pleas for aid after realising how badly outmatched he was. The messages had been garbled, his brother¡¯s magic disrupted by the otherworldly power pouring from the Exiled Star. That same power had made it impossible to teleport to his brother¡¯s location while also blocking scrying magic. Quakeclaw had been forced to fly there himself, for he had been the closest.


    Never before had Quakeclaw cursed his own slowness in the air. He had used every method he could think of to increase his speed, but it had not been enough. Instead, all he could do was listen, his brother¡¯s tattered communication magic filling his ears with pleas for aid and cries of despair as the Exiled Star slaughtered his brother¡¯s forces and cut off his line of retreat.


    He never saw the blow that killed his brother ¨C but he knew the exact moment his brother died. For as long as he could remember, his brother¡¯s presence had been there in the back of his mind, a link maintained as much by blood as by sorcery. And then it was gone. Instead of panic and pain and fear, there was only silence ¨C a deep and terrible silence.


    By all rights, he should have retreated then. His brother had been dead, along with every dragon who¡¯d accompanied him. There had been nothing more he could do. But reason and logic had meant nothing to him. There had only been rage and grief and hate and sorrow.


    He had charged at the Exiled Star, and he would have joined his brother in death if Paragonmirror hadn¡¯t arrived shortly after. She had all but killed herself to first heal him and then ensure their escape. He would never forget the sight of the Exiled Star watching them as they fled, a titan of light and fire and judgement. Nor would he ever forget its words.


    ¡°I am the Star of Judgement. I am born of the blood of the Creator. Who are you to stand before me? You are nothing. Less than nothing. I saw the Creator in all his glory. I will not fall to the wretched offspring of mere fragments.¡±


    By the time he was ready to join the fight once more, it was too late. The battle was over. All that was left for him was to mourn... and to rage.


    The majority of the skirmishing force had been drawn from his and his brother¡¯s followers. All of them were dead. This was not the first time their followers had suffered such casualties. Dragons of their lineage was exceptionally durable, making them ideal for holding the enemy at bay. Doomwing had never hesitated to order them to the frontlines, and Quakeclaw and his brother had never hesitated to put themselves and their followers between their fellow dragons and the enemy.


    But now his brother was dead.


    Quakeclaw had gone to confront Doomwing, but the other dragon had been in no mood to listen. He had buried Ashheart within a mountain to heal him, and he had torn Soulseeker limb from limb after his betrayal. There had been no trace of grief in Doomwing¡¯s gaze, only fury that bordered on madness.


    Chasmfang? Doomwing had ordered him to go, but he had also ordered him to retreat if the Exiled Star proved too powerful. He did not know why Chasmfang had chosen to stand his ground, but that had been his decision. The outcome had been unfortunate, but the mistake had not been his. It had been Chasmfang¡¯s.


    How dare he!


    He should never have sent Chasmfang in the first place. It did not matter that Chasmfang had agreed. He should have known what Chasmfang would do in his eagerness to prove himself, in his reckless desire to wash away the shame of defeat at the mad vampire¡¯s hands. Doomwing prided himself on his knowledge and wisdom, so why hadn¡¯t he considered that? Why hadn¡¯t he planned for it?


    They had almost come to blows then, only his own injuries, not yet fully healed, and the near-madness in Doomwing¡¯s gaze had stayed his claws. Had they come to blows then, then only one of them would have lived to see another day. The earth, soaked in Soulseeker¡¯s blood, had whispered that to him, and he had never been one to ignore its advice. His brother was dead. Quakeclaw would not spit upon his sacrifice by joining him so swiftly.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Since that day, Quakeclaw had not spoken to Doomwing. Why would he? The other dragon had cost him a brother, and where there had once been three, now only one remained. So few remembered his brothers, and those that did rarely thought of them fondly. One was reviled as a coward and a traitor whilst the other was considered a fool whose pride cost him his life. Only the earth remembered them faithfully, only the rock and stone that had once answered their call remembered them as they had truly been.


    And now the earth spoke, but with Doomwing¡¯s voice. It rankled Quakeclaw, and so he stirred from his slumber, and the world shook as he sought the surface for the first time in an Age.


    Thundermaw did his best to ignore the amused chirping and chortling behind him, only to fail miserably. Technically, he was supposed to be keeping watch, but there were few indeed who would dare to intrude upon this place. For this was the Dragon¡¯s Den, a titanic collection of mountains, valleys, chasms, canyons, and caves that occupied the majority of a continent.


    It belonged to Quakeclaw, a primordial chthonic dragon ¨C the greatest of all dragons of the earth dragon lineage. Once it had been home to his brother, Chasmfang, too, but all knew better than to mention the other dragon¡¯s name where Quakeclaw could hear. An Age had passed and still the great dragon¡¯s grief remained, a force as mighty as any earthquake.


    There were rumours that it had once been home to a third brother, but even less was spoken of him ¨C the coward who had fled and hidden rather than fight. Chasmfang might have been foolish, but none could question his courage. For a dragon, it was better to be a brave fool than a wise coward.


    Thundermaw did not belong to the earth dragon lineage. Indeed, his grandmother was mighty Stormbringer herself. However, the dragon he had chosen for his mate was a dragon of that lineage. In fact, she was one of Chasmfang¡¯s children ¨C the youngest of the three he¡¯d sired.


    Not once could Thundermaw remember Quakeclaw seeking her out. Apparently, she shared the same eyes as her father, and it hurt for Quakeclaw to look upon her. Even so, she had never wanted for resources. Whatever she could not find amongst the treasures her father had left behind, Quakeclaw had never hesitated to share with her. Their two hatchlings were likewise spared no resource although his mate had wisely kept them from Quakeclaw¡¯s sight, for they too shared her father¡¯s eyes.


    Those same hatchlings were now engaged in more foolishness with the shadow salamander that had accompanied Thundermaw since the day of his First Awakening. On that day, Shadowscale had simply marched into his lair, helped himself to a share of the beast that Thundermaw had been eating and then fallen asleep atop his snout. Apparently, he¡¯d chosen Thundermaw, and he had remained by his side ever since. It was baffling ¨C and also the only time he¡¯d ever seen his grandmother so jealous. According to his uncles and aunts, she had long hoped for a salamander to choose her, but although many had travelled through her domain over the years, none had chosen her.


    His salamander was playing tag with his hatchlings ¨C a game the two young dragons were destined to lose since whenever they got close to catching him, the salamander would simply fall into his own shadow and reappear elsewhere. The young dragons were not used to losing, and the cheerful chirping and happy chortling that came from the salamander did not help one bit. What made it worse was that Shadowscale was not taunting them. On the contrary, he was simply expressing how happy he was to be playing. It didn¡¯t matter to him if he won or lost ¨C although it mattered very much to the hatchlings. He just so happened to win. Every time.


    ¡°Father!¡± Tempestwing huffed and flapped his wings. ¡°Shadowscale is cheating!¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Thundermaw regarded his daughter with amusement. ¡°Did he forbid you from flying or using your magic to even the odds?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Chasmseeker, his son, growled. ¡°But ¨C¡±


    ¡°Then he is not cheating. You two are dragons. You are naturally blessed with speed, endurance, and agility. If you two wish to defeat him, then you need to coordinate better and anticipate his actions, not simply chase after him like headless chickens.¡±


    Both hatchlings recoiled at the mention of headless chickens. They had recently seen a headless chicken for the first time, and the sight had puzzled and disturbed them. Things were supposed to die when they lost their heads, not run around! Personally, he found their reaction strange. Hydras of various kinds could be found in and around the Dragon¡¯s Den, and simply cutting off a hydra¡¯s head was unlikely to do anything more than make it mad. Why was it normal for a hydra to wander around without a head but disturbing for a chicken to do the same? In any case, they were still quite young, so a certain level of foolishness was to be expected. They were a mere twelve feet long, which made them even smaller than Shadowscale who was one hundred and fifty feet long. Of course, that difference in size wouldn¡¯t last. Dragons grew far more swiftly than salamanders and could reach far greater sizes. The salamander might be larger than both of them combined, but it wouldn¡¯t be long before they were the ones carrying him around instead of the ones clinging onto him like scaly monkeys.


    Just then, a presence appeared at the edges of Thundermaw¡¯s awareness. It was... his eyes widened. It was enormous, and it was approaching with incredible speed.


    ¡°Shadowscale, take them back to the lair.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on father ¨C ah!¡±


    Whatever else his children might have said was cut off as shadowy limbs reached out and grabbed them. The second they were by Shadowscale¡¯s side, the salamander fell through his own shadow with the hatchlings. Thundermaw could sense the trio reappear inside their lair before the salamander reappeared, rising up through Thundermaw¡¯s shadow and settling onto his back.


    ¡°Ready?¡±


    The salamander chirped and used more shadows to ensure he was secured in place.


    ¡°Good. We should go take a look.¡±


    In a fight, Shadowscale could definitely help, but the biggest advantage he gave was the ability to retreat. Very, very few people could intercept shadow walking of his level, and he was more than capable of taking Thundermaw with him. Indeed, against anything less than a primordial dragon, Thundermaw was confident they would be able to retreat if necessary.


    He upped his pace, flying with the speed his family was known for, and he was relieved to find several others falling into formation beside him. They exchanged brief greetings and advanced toward the intruder. To his shock, he realised that the intruder wasn¡¯t simply passing through their territory. No. They were headed straight toward Quakeclaw¡¯s lair.


    Well, that wasn¡¯t entirely accurate. They were flying toward the area above Quakeclaw¡¯s lair. The primordial dragon¡¯s lair was not on the surface. Instead, it was more than twenty miles underground, impossible for anyone to reach unless they possessed powerful earth magic or an attack capable of blasting through more than twenty miles of magically reinforced rock. Needless to say, there were very few people in the world who could do that. Of course, if the intruder was someone capable of doing that, then Thundermaw and the others would be lucky to last longer than a few seconds against them.


    ¡°Be ready to retreat,¡± Thundermaw warned Shadowscale. Seemingly unbothered by the potential danger, the salamander gave a happy chirp and patted him on the back.


    They arrived to find the intruder waiting for them.


    It was another dragon, but one unlike any he had seen before.


    The dragon was huge ¨C roughly a mile long ¨C but their appearance was eerie. Their features and form were indistinct, and their scales held an otherworldly shine. It was like staring at vaguely dragon-shaped cloud made of countless mirrors. It was... unsettling, yet he and the others relaxed. He had never met this dragon in person, but he had heard of her.


    ¡°Great Paragonmirror,¡± Thundermaw said, since none of the others seemed eager to speak. ¡°Welcome. Are you here to see mighty Quakeclaw?¡±


    An amused chuckle rippled through the air. The mirrors shifted restlessly and folded in on themselves, and they suddenly found themselves looking at first a female chthonic dragon and then a female inferno dragon.


    ¡°Yes. But don¡¯t worry about calling for him. He should be here soon.¡± Paragonmirror¡¯s appearance changed again, her form and scales once more growing hazy and mirror-like.


    At her words, the ground began to shake. No. The entire continent trembled. Quakeclaw had spent most of his time since the end of the Fifth Age slumbering, stirring only now and again and rarely for long. Now, however, he had awakened in earnest ¨C and he was rising from the depths, a titan seeking the open air for the first time in an Age.


    Thundermaw and the others flinched back and retreated as the earth beneath them ruptured, a vast chasm tearing open where none had been before. The chasm widened and deepened until it was a gaping hole that seemed to stretch down into the very depths of the world. And for those depths emerged Quakeclaw.


    He was... gigantic.


    Of all the dragons in the world, only Ashheart was larger, but only by a small margin. As awkward as Ashheart could be in the air, Quakeclaw was worse. But that mattered little. Thundermaw¡¯s grandmother had told him about the other primordial dragon. Quakeclaw was perfectly content to stay on the ground. If his opponents took to the air, he could simply heave mountains at them. And once they were forced to the ground, there was not a single dragon alive save Ashheart who could hope to endure once he got his claws on them.


    Unlike the gleaming metallic scales common to so many dragons, Quakeclaw¡¯s were of a different kind. Some resembled the deep brown of rich river silt, the kind that could be found in fertile river deltas. Others were a lighter colour, akin in colour and texture to the biting desert sands that covered the land east of his domain. Others were closer to opal or obsidian, and still others resembled the bands of sediment laid down by wind, water, and gravity over the Ages.


    Quakeclaw heaved himself up out of the ground and spread his wings. They were vast, unspeakably enormous sails of stone and rock and earth ¨C two mountains moving with each breath. Every wingbeat was a hurricane, and the mountains and valleys shook in sympathy. His gaze drifted up to take in the open sky, and something that was almost amusement flickered in those black orbs, each as dark as the lightless caverns he dwelt in.


    ¡°It was bluer in my memories,¡± Quakeclaw rumbled, and each word was accompanied by a tremor in the land. The faint amusement turned rueful. ¡°Or perhaps those were dreams... or perhaps the skies in Ages past truly were different.¡± There was a long pause, heavy with old hurts. ¡°They certainly felt different when I did not stare up at them alone.¡±


    Quakeclaw had taken a mate during the Third Age, and he had children of his own, but since his brother¡¯s death, he had rarely spoken to them, seemingly content to dwell in dreams and memories. Thundermaw found it hard to blame him. His mate was mighty in her own right, and his children were all grown. Chasmfang had been his brother, his closest companion since the First Age. There had only been a handful of years between them. It was entirely possible that he could not remember a time when Chasmfang had not been at his side, so it was no wonder he felt his loss so keenly. If he had been at his brother¡¯s side when he had fallen, then perhaps he could have borne the loss more readily. He would have been able to say that he had done everything he could to save him. Instead, his brother had died before he could reach him, and so Quakeclaw would always be left with those most terrible of words...


    What if...?


    For a long moment, Paragonmirror said nothing, the mirror-haze of her form shifting like mist on the breeze. When she did speak, her voice was gentle. ¡°How long has it been since you saw the sky, old friend?¡±


    Quakeclaw gave another low rumble, and his titan form shifted to let the rays of the sun fall more fully upon him. ¡°There is a sky in every dragon¡¯s heart, and there are caverns in the deep where even dragons may soar. You and the others could not possibly understand. None remain who could. No. Perhaps Ashheart could. But he is a son of fire and earth. I am of the rock and stone and earth alone. At my command, mountains rise and valleys fall. My heart is the heart of the world, and its beating shapes the land. Let others seek the sky. The earth and all within it belong to me, for I am Quakeclaw, and it is my claws that shake the world!¡±


    Had anyone else spoken those words, they would have been mere boasting. But with his brothers dead, there was no one the earth heeded more than Quakeclaw.


    ¡°My brothers cared more for the sky than me,¡± Quakeclaw said, more to himself than any of them. ¡°Chasmfang set countless gems into the roof of his lair and named them after the stars. Earthroar did the same, only instead of many gems, he used two great treasures and dubbed them the sun and the moon. There are no stars in my lair, no sun and moon. Only dreams and memories and the whispers of the earth.¡± His voice grew cold and hard. ¡°And yet in my dreams and memories I heard a voice that did not belong. The earth carried Doomwing¡¯s words to me. He has called for a meeting of our fellows.¡±


    Quakeclaw growled, and the sound was like all the thunder of a storm released at once. It was a physical force, and only Paragonmirror remained unmoved by it. ¡°So many of my followers have given their lives in the battles he has commanded. In the end, even my brother gave his life. Doomwing may be wise and powerful, but he is not as wise and powerful as he believes.¡± He bared his teeth, and flame kindled in his jaws. ¡°Perhaps the folly of the Sixth Catastrophe has humbled him. Perhaps he has learned that there is much his eyes do not see and that his wisdom does not understand. My brother may have been a fool, but Doomwing is no less a fool. Had he been wiser, the Sixth Catastrophe would have died at his claws long before she sought to ensnare the world in her madness.¡±


    ¡°You are not wrong,¡± Paragonmirror said. ¡°But will you go to the meeting?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I will go.¡± Quakeclaw straightened, and his claws reached up as if to tear the sky down. ¡°Doomwing spoke of old oaths and promises ¨C of debts and sacrifice. I must remind him that there are those who have honoured their oaths ¨C and who have sacrificed much, not least because of his mistakes.¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°Of course, I will go.¡± Paragonmirror¡¯s scales flashed ruby and sapphire and the air was suddenly awash with telekinetic might that only a nova dragon could wield. ¡°I am always happy to see our fellows.¡±


    ¡°Yes... that troublesome ability of yours. And your followers?¡±


    ¡°Naturally, they will be accompanying me.¡± Paragonmirror let the fac?ade of a nova dragon fall away, and the mirror-haze took on a deep crimson lustre. ¡°Besides, there is a great deal of gossip for me to catch up on.¡± Her attention shifted to Thundermaw. ¡°You should have that one bring his hatchlings.¡±


    ¡°They are young,¡± Quakeclaw growled. ¡°And the journey is far.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, but they are her great-grandchildren. She has yet to meet them, and she is growing impatient. Either you bring them to her, or she will come here.¡± The crimson gave way to silver, blue, green, and black, and the acrid scent of ozone filled the air. ¡°Besides, who would dare to harm them with both you and her present?¡±


    Quakeclaw growled again, and his gaze sought Thundermaw. ¡°Prepare yourself and your family for travel. I will not have Stormbringer intrude upon my domain.¡± He snarled. ¡°She brings storms and trouble with her wherever she goes.¡± He struck the ground with his tail, and another chasm was carved into the earth. His next words were addressed to the other dragons, those of his lineage. ¡°Call for my mate and my children ¨C and my brother¡¯s children too. I would speak with them.¡±


    Paragonmirror smiled, the expression an almost perfect copy of the expression Thundermaw had seen many times upon his grandmother¡¯s face. And then she was gone, her swift speed and the mirror-like nature of her scales making her almost impossible to track against the deep blue of the sky.

 Chapter 58: The Young Dragon and the Old Drake

    The arrival of a new hatchling was always cause for celebration. Despite how long they lived ¨C or perhaps because of it ¨C dragons seldom had many children. Ages had passed, and their numbers had yet to recover from the massacre at the hands of the Broken God. The other Catastrophes had not helped either, but more dragons had fallen in that disastrous battle than in every other Catastrophe combined.


    It was not uncommon for new parents to seek a blessing from a more powerful dragon, a remnant, perhaps, of the blessings once given out by the gods and the great dragons of the First Age. However, Doomwing was surprised to discover that the new parents had asked for him to give the blessing.


    ¡°Are you not the one they serve?¡± Doomwing asked.


    Regal Flame chuckled, and cinders drifted through the air. ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°And their request does not offend you?¡± If a blessing was to be given, then custom dictated it come from a family member, a close friend, or the dragon the parents served. As far as he knew, Doomwing had no connection to the parents, so to ask for him instead of her could easily be seen as a slight.


    ¡°Under other circumstances it might.¡± Regal Flame turned and motioned with her tail. ¡°But you will understand when you meet them.¡±


    More than a little curious, Doomwing followed her to a lair set into the lesser mountains away from the plateau. It was a fine location. The forest was near at hand, and it teemed with prey and other resources. There was also a large lake nearby, and the currents of magic in the area were rich and pure.


    According to Regal Flame, the parents had only recently achieved their Second Awakenings. The conditions here would serve them well until their Third Awakenings, and they might even prove suitable, albeit not optimal, if they were able to push for their Fourth Awakenings.


    ¡°The father is named Pyrosurge, and the mother is called Riddlespike.¡±


    ¡°Riddlespike?¡± Doomwing¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°An unusual name for a dragon of your lineage.¡±


    Regal Flame folded her wings, landing gracefully despite her size. The lair was not large enough to accommodate them, which was hardly surprising, so they remained outside. Dragons of the Second Awakening were far smaller than them. ¡°She is not of my lineage although Pyrosurge is.¡± Her smile was faint but genuine. ¡°She is belongs to the rift dragon lineage.¡±


    Doomwing had just enough time to absorb her words before the parents emerged with their hatchling to greet them. Pyrosurge had the rich red scales common to those of the fire dragon lineage, although there were also hints of orange and yellow about him that reminded Doomwing of the flickering flames of a campfire. Riddlespike, however, had deep blue scales, not the blue of the sea, but of the northern sky where auroras lit the night.


    And held with the utmost care in one of her claws was the hatchling. In an instant, Doomwing understood why they had asked for his blessing instead of Regal Flame¡¯s. The hatchling¡¯s scales were not like his father¡¯s or his mother¡¯s. Instead, they were a patchwork of blue and red. This newborn dragon belonged to the same lineage as him.


    Something deep within his chest tightened. For a moment, Doomwing saw his parents as they must have been so long ago. Much like this hatchling¡¯s parents, one had belonged to the fire dragon lineage and the other to the rift dragon lineage. How surprised they must have been to have him, and how proud as well. That same surprise was visible on the faces of these new parents, as well as that same pride.


    There were other dragons of his lineage in the world although he was, by far, the oldest and mightiest of them. But he had never before laid eyes on one so young. The hatchling had only hatched yesterday, and he was a mere foot long. His eyes were a misty grey, reminiscent of steel. That would pass. Doomwing knew that from personal experience, for his parents had told him his eyes had been much the same. In a week, perhaps two, that grey would give way to either the gold of the father or the deep purple of the mother.


    As with most hatchlings, the newborn¡¯s head was large in comparison to the rest of his body, and his wings... yes, they seemed even larger than normal for a newborn. It made Doomwing wonder if his own overly large wings were simply a characteristic of his lineage. The hatchling peered up at him with curious eyes, too innocent to be afraid and too nai?ve to understand how absolutely cavernous the gap in power between his parents and Doomwing was. Instead, the hatchling was completely relaxed, utterly sure that his parents would protect him from harm.


    Doomwing could still remember that feeling although it had been many, many years indeed since he had felt it. He could remember curling up to his parents at night, feeling as though nothing in the world could harm him, that no matter how fiercely the storm raged outside their lair, they would keep him safe. He had learned how foolish that belief had been, yet he treasured that feeling all the same. The world could be cruel indeed, but every child should know that feeling, even if the world eventually taught them otherwise.


    ¡°Greetings noble Regal Flame and mighty Doomwing,¡± Pyrosurge said, bowing low and spreading his wings in greeting. ¡°You honour us with your presence.¡±


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± Regal Flame said. ¡°A hatchling is always cause to celebrate.¡±


    Doomwing said nothing. He simply continued to stare down at the hatchling. The hatchling stared back, and he detected a flicker of surprise from the young dragon as he looked first at his own parents then at Doomwing. The hatchling must be wondering why his scales resembled Doomwing¡¯s more than those of his parents.


    Finally, Doomwing spoke. His voice was softer, gentler, less the boom of an approaching storm and more the distant rumble of far-off thunder. ¡°I would offer gifts.¡±


    The parents gasped. They had not expected that. Gifts, if they were to be given, were usually given under more formal circumstances. ¡°Mighty Doomwing, we would be honoured, but there is no need ¨C¡±


    ¡°The hatchling is of my lineage,¡± Doomwing murmured. ¡°And I remember well the difficulties my parents faced in raising me.¡± His power stirred, and he wove items into existence through a combination of runes and alchemy. It could have been considered excessive, but he would never offer a gift unless it met his standards. Three objects floated down to the new parents, and he explained each of them in turn.


    ¡°The book will aid you. There are... quirks to my lineage ¨C quirks that my parents did not realise until they had me. The book will help you to avoid those pitfalls or aid you in addressing them should they occur. The crystal will absorb any form of magic it encounters and convert it into the magic most suitable for a dragon of my lineage. It will serve your hatchling well, regardless of how many Awakenings he has, although he will likely outgrow its use by his Second Awakening.¡±


    ¡°This...¡± The parents bowed hastily, and the little dragon instinctively wrapped himself around the crystal. It was bigger than he was, but the power it was already radiating called to him. ¡°There are no words! Thank you!¡±


    ¡°As for the chest,¡± Doomwing continued. ¡°It contains metals and other materials that should be fed to the hatchling. The book will tell you how much and how often. I remember well my pursuit of proper nutrition when I was young. It was not easy, for a hatchling¡¯s needs vary from lineage to lineage, even when those lineages are related. What worked best for you may not work best for him.¡±


    The parents glanced at each other. Riddlespike nodded firmly, and Pyrosurge spoke again. ¡°If... if it pleases you, mighty Doomwing, then perhaps we could offer you something to repay your kindness.¡±


    ¡°Gifts do not require repayment. Otherwise, they are not gifts.¡±


    ¡°Even so, you have honoured us greatly and bestowed a great boon upon our son. We... we haven¡¯t named him yet. Perhaps...?¡±


    Doomwing¡¯s eyes widened. It was not unheard of for dragons to allow someone they truly respected to name their offspring. It was usually a way of honouring an older dragon, one to whom the parents owed a great deal. He glanced at Regal Flame, but her face showed no displeasure. If anything, she looked extremely pleased.


    ¡°You honour me,¡± Doomwing replied. ¡°Very well. I accept. I will name your son.¡± He spread his wings, and the shadow they cast fell over the parents and their hatchling. Other dragons had emerged from their lairs to gawk and gossip, but he paid them no mind. ¡°Long ago, in the First Age before their fall, the gods taught us that names have power. It was thus fitting that the greatest of us all was named Sovereign Flame. Yet the one who gave the name also mattered, and it was the Seven Gods together who bestowed that name upon him.¡±


    Doomwing paused, deep in thought. ¡°Your son belongs to my lineage, and of that lineage, no dragon lives that surpasses me. If the one who gives the name matters, then you have chosen well indeed. But what name to give him? When my parents named me, it was half in jest and half in hope that these wings of mine would one day herald the doom of my enemies.¡± He nodded to himself. ¡°Those of my lineage who have achieved their Fourth Awakening are called nova dragons. Yet although many strive for such a thing, few ever reach it. Whether due to bad luck, poor talent, or lacking resources, so many fall before they reach their Fourth Awakening. To your son, then, I give a mighty name, a name that contains my hopes for him. Let him be called Novawing! And let his wings carry him swiftly to his Fourth Awakening and beyond!¡±


    The air thrummed with power, and the currents of magic in the area bent beneath his will. He pressed on. ¡°In the First Age, when parents asked for a blessing, it was customary to seek it from one of the gods or the legendary dragons of old. My parents were not close to any of the gods or the great dragons. Lacking such connections, they asked someone else to bless me, someone whose might matched even the greatest of our kind, the first and oldest child of the gods.¡±


    There was curiosity on their faces, but Regal Flame gave a wistful sigh before a rueful smile crossed her lips. She knew who he spoke of. No dragon had blessed him. No god had given their favour. Instead, it had been Mother Tree.


    ¡°Until the day she died, I considered her a dear friend. By all rights, her blessing should have died with her, yet here I am, and I cannot help but feel that it lingers still. A long life she wished me, with great fortune and good friends. Courage, she hoped for, and wisdom, determination, and cunning. Only a shadow of her remains, lingering in the Deep Dreaming, but if there is any power left in the blessing she gave me, then I hope it aids your son as it has aided me.¡±


    Doomwing put power into his words and gave voice to the blessing using the words Mother Tree had used. He had heard those words twice more in his life. Once, when his parents had shared them with him on the day of his First Awakening, and again when he had refused Mother Tree. Today would be the fourth time he heard them but the first time he spoke them.


    ¡°A long life for your son, with great fortune and good friends. May he have courage unwavering, wisdom unmatched, determination unyielding, and cunning unrivalled. May all the Ages of the world be his, and may his wings and heart never falter.¡± Doomwing paused. ¡°That was the blessing given to me, and it is the blessing I give to your son.¡±


    The parents beamed and bowed once more, and Doomwing returned the gesture before turning to take flight.


    ¡°We should go,¡± he said to Regal Flame. ¡°There is a matter we must discuss with Firetail.¡±


    Doomwing watched Firetail. The old drake was staring at the catalyst he¡¯d made with a combination of fear and wonder. The wonder was easy enough to understand. After suffering through his injuries for more than an Age, the catalyst could heal him. Firetail had been one of the strongest drakes in the world before his crippling, on the very cusp of Ascending further. The wounds he¡¯d endured first in Regal Flame¡¯s defence and then in his desperate flight to call for aid had left him a tattered shell of his former self. That he had survived this long was a testament to both his determination and Regal Flame¡¯s care. The other primordial dragon had spared no expense in treating him.


    Unfortunately, during the Sixth Age, his wounds had been beyond even Doomwing¡¯s ability to treat. Soulseeker¡¯s flame had burnt more than Firetail¡¯s body. It had burnt his very soul, rendering almost all forms of healing ineffective. Had Dawnscale ben present... but that was a pointless thought. Hypotheticals of that nature meant little in the face of cruel reality.


    But an Age had passed. Firetail¡¯s wounds had settled somewhat, and Doomwing¡¯s skills had improved. Although the odds would never be especially favourable, they were better now than they had been an Age ago. To wait any longer was to risk the growing weight of Firetail¡¯s many years working against him.


    By all rights, Firetail should have been overjoyed.


    But fear remained. Part of it was simple fear of failure. What if the catalyst failed? If this procedure could not heal him, then there was little chance of anything else being able to. He would wither and fade. In a century or two ¨C at best ¨C he would pass. He would have lived a very long life for a drake. Certainly, few of his kind had ever lived longer. But there would always be that lingering grief. What if he had not been crippled? How high might he have risen, how long might he have lived?


    There was also fear of a partial success. What if the catalyst healed the worst of his wounds but was unable to heal him fully? What if the path of Ascension remained closed to him? He would live longer, yes, but he would be unable to Ascend any further. Just the thought of it could drive him mad. To have lived so long and worked so hard, only to be doomed by the actions of a coward and a fool.


    No drake had ever Ascended high enough to cast off the shackles of time. Well, perhaps there had been drakes of that level in the First Age, but Doomwing could not be sure. If there had been, they had all perished against the Broken God. Whatever the case, no such drakes had arisen in the Ages since. Firetail might well have been the first, his potential had been that great before his crippling. There were no guarantees. Ascensions of that level were impossible to be sure of. But if Firetail had managed to Ascend, then the very next Ascension would have been the one that drakes had dreamed of for Ages, the equivalent of a dragon¡¯s Fourth Awakening.


    Firetail was no fool. He knew precisely how mighty his potential had been. To be partially healed but robbed of that potential would be a bitter blow indeed.


    ¡°You hesitate,¡± Doomwing rumbled. ¡°You should not.¡±


    The drake glanced at Regal Flame. ¡°But the resources used to create this catalyst...¡±


    ¡°Were mine to use as I saw fit,¡± Regal Flame replied. Her voice softened. ¡°Resources can be regathered, old friend. Favours can be repaid. But you... if you perish, that is the end of it. There will never be another drake quite like you.¡± Embers traced the contours of her scales, and flame kindled briefly in her jaws. For a moment, the sun was warmer, and warmth that was more than merely physical washed over them. ¡°Your wounds were suffered in my defence.¡±


    ¡°I swore oaths to you. I was merely fulfilling them.¡±


    ¡°And I swore oaths in return. I am merely fulfilling those.¡± Regal Flame nodded firmly. ¡°Take it, old friend. Whether it works or not, it is better to at least try.¡±


    Doomwing studied the complex play of emotions that flickered across the old drake¡¯s face before he finally gave his assent. ¡°Good. Then we must prepare.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Regal Flame asked.


    ¡°I cannot be certain, but if the catalyst works as intended ¨C if the damage to Firetail¡¯s soul and body is truly healed ¨C then there is a chance that he will immediately be driven into an Ascension attempt.¡±


    Firetail blinked. ¡°What?¡± In his shock he forgot his usual decorum.


    Doomwing chuckled. ¡°I have studied Awakenings and Ascensions of many kinds extensively. Regardless of the opinions that many dragons hold about drakes, the fact remains that your Ascensions are, at least in some ways, similar to our Awakenings. Firetail, you have long surpassed the feats required to achieve your next Ascension. Had you been whole, you would have attempted an Ascension long ago, correct?¡±


    Firetail shifted restlessly. ¡°Yes. Ascensions are... instinctive. When you are ready to make the attempt, you know. And the readier you are, the more pressing the urge to make the attempt becomes. Eventually, it becomes overwhelming. You can scarcely eat or sleep, so strong is the urge. But since my crippling...¡± He exhaled, long and mournful. ¡°I have felt nothing. Only an emptiness where once that familiar pressure used to be.¡±


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    ¡°That is not surprising. Your body was ravaged and your soul gravely wounded. Your power was reduced to a fraction of what it had been. Should the catalyst succeed, all will be restored. Given everything you have achieved since then, your newly restored abilities will far exceed your former powers. The urge to Ascend that you have not felt in an Age will return ¨C and it will be many times stronger than before.¡±


    Regal Flame¡¯s eyes gleamed, bluer than the open sky above them. There was draconic greed in her gaze, but not for herself. No. It was on Firetail¡¯s behalf. For so long, she had seen her loyal friend and herald robbed of his rightful place. Now, at last, there was a chance for him to reclaim all that had been stolen from him and more. She wanted him to seize this opportunity, to take what was his by right. ¡°What must we do?¡±


    ¡°First and foremost, Firetail must consume the catalyst and use its power to heal his old wounds.¡± Doomwing¡¯s gaze grew serious. ¡°The catalyst uses Frostfang¡¯s cold as its key ingredient. It will nullify the damage that has been done to his soul and body. However...¡± He paused briefly, for what he was about to ask was no small thing. ¡°It is likely that the damage Firetail has endured will make it impossible for him to guide the catalyst¡¯s power through his body in the optimal way.¡±


    ¡°What should I do then?¡± Firetail asked quietly.


    ¡°Let Regal Flame help.¡±


    Both drake and dragon startled at his suggestion, not that he could blame them. The catalyst¡¯s power would surge through Firetail¡¯s body and soul. Without proper direction, it would be like a flooding river bursting its banks. It would still be effective, but much of its power would be wasted. Ideally, Firetail would direct the catalyst¡¯s power himself, but his injuries would make that difficult if not outright impossible. What he needed was someone who could do that for him.


    That person would need to be enormously powerful and would need to know him as well as he knew himself. Moreover, allowing someone to help him in that manner would leave Firetail completely exposed, bereft of any defence, magical or otherwise. That sort of vulnerability... Doomwing did not know if he would be able to tolerate it.


    ¡°And that would help?¡± Firetail asked.


    ¡°It would.¡±


    ¡°Then... if it is not too much trouble, I would ask my lady to assist me.¡± Firetail bowed his head. ¡°I will leave my life in your hands.¡±


    ¡°Firetail...¡± Regal Flame stared. She too understood how much trust he was putting in her. This went beyond mere oaths of service and allegiance. He was putting not only his life in her hands but also every hope he had for a brighter future. ¡°Very well, old friend. I will aid you as best I can.¡±


    ¡°Good. That is the bare minimum required.¡± Doomwing paused. ¡°To be blunt, if the catalyst fails, we will not need to make any further preparations. The failure will be so catastrophic that he will be dead before we can offer any aid.¡±


    Firetail laughed. ¡°That is... strangely reassuring. At least it will be a swift death. Better that, than a slow and lingering demise.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. However, if the catalyst works as intended, and he is pushed toward Ascension, there are preparations we can make to improve his chances of success.¡±


    ¡°Whatever is required,¡± Regal Flame said. ¡°It shall be done.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡± Doomwing nodded. ¡°Then let us prepare.¡±


    Firetail swallowed thickly, more nervous now than he¡¯d ever been since the long-ago days of his youth when he had first pledged himself to Regal Flame. He had faced many dangerous situations in his life, none more so than when he¡¯d faced Soulseeker. The dead primordial dragon might have been a coward and a fool, but his power had been very real.


    In a fair fight, his noble lady would have made short work of him, but Soulseeker had only attacked in the first place because it had not been a fair fight. Naturally, Firetail had been no match for him. It had taken everything he had to escape, and he had still paid a dear price for it, not that he regretted it. As agonising as his wounds had been, he had nevertheless derived a grim satisfaction in watching Doomwing tear the other dragon limb from limb.


    A coward was bad enough, but a traitor too? Bah! Let Soulseeker rot, and let the vultures feast on his wretched carcass! If there truly was a great cycle of death and rebirth, then may Soulseeker be reborn as a snail or some other similarly pathetic creature. Better still, let him remember his previous life, so that the disgrace of his new life could weigh more heavily upon him.


    Yet now, with the possibility of healing before him, Firetail once again felt fear although he did his best to steel himself. As awful as it sounded, he had grown used to his wounds, and he had come to accept his coming demise. It was not that he wanted to die. He wished to live. But he had made peace with his fate. He had lived a good life, one of loyalty and service. If he died, he would be able to stand before his gods and his ancestors with his head held high. Let none say he had failed in his duties. Let none say he had ever given less than his best. True, he had less to give than others, but he had given everything he could.


    Hope... hope was a strangely tenacious thing. His hopes had died long ago, or so he¡¯d thought. But now... now they returned, and he wasn¡¯t sure whether to welcome them or supress them. To have hope again only to lose it ¨C that would be more than he could bear.


    ¡°Are you prepared?¡± Doomwing asked.


    They were no longer upon the plateau. Instead, they were in Regal Flame¡¯s lair. If the catalyst worked, and he began his Ascension, then he would need access to as much fire-related magic as possible. There was nowhere better for that than his lady¡¯s lair. Of all dragons of her lineage, she was the mightiest. Her own power ¨C and that of her father before her ¨C filled this place. Despite its peaceful appearance, it was actually a volcano. Only Regal Flame¡¯s might kept it from erupting, its enormous heat and power converted into magic that flowed seamlessly through the land.


    Firetail would have no shortage of power to draw upon. Indeed, Regal Flame had made it clear that she would bend the currents of magic to feed his Ascension if necessary. How many drakes had ever been offered such a privilege? If the opportunity to Ascend presented itself, then he swore to take full advantage.


    ¡°You mentioned something about runes and scripts?¡± Firetail asked.


    Doomwing nodded. The dragon¡¯s telekinesis lifted a small pile of scales that Firetail had shed, along with a vial of his blood. A flash of power crushed the scales into fine powder before Doomwing summoned a number of items. Before Firetail¡¯s very eyes, Doomwing performed alchemy of the highest level, leaving a sphere of ink floating in the air beside him.


    ¡°Should you attempt Ascension, I will assist you. I will use this ink to implement a number of magical scripts along with various runes.¡±


    ¡°Will the script be placed on my scales?¡± Firetail was familiar with a number of magical scripts. For instance, both the dwarves and elves made use of their own.


    ¡°I could do that. However, there is a method that offers even better chances of success.¡±


    ¡°Please, tell me.¡±


    ¡°I will inscribed them directly onto your bones and major organs using my telekinesis.¡±


    ¡°...¡± Firetail shook himself. Had he misheard? ¡°Truly?¡±


    ¡°Yes. If it helps, know that should you reach that point, you will already be in too much pain to feel what I am doing.¡±


    Regal Flame turned her head to stare at Doomwing. ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to mention this earlier?¡±


    Doomwing shrugged. ¡°Excessive time to ruminate would only have increased his fear, and fear is dangerous during Ascension.¡±


    Firetail laughed. Doomwing was right. Fear and doubt were deadly during Ascensions. The mind, body, and soul must all be resolute. ¡°Hah! Very well! Do as you wish. If am to live or die this day, then I shall do so having made every effort to succeed!¡± He smiled faintly at his noble lady. ¡°Regardless of the outcome, my lady, I will not have it be said that your herald was a coward or that I lacked resolve. Fear? Of course, there is some fear. I am not a fool. But let the results show the truth: whatever doubt or fear I feel, my resolve is greater still! Whatever happens, I will give it my all.¡±


    ¡°Excellent words,¡± Regal Flame replied. ¡°If there is nothing else, then let us begin.¡± She bared her teeth. ¡°And when the others arrive, you shall greet them as my herald. Let them marvel at your Ascension.¡±


    Firetail bared his teeth in return. ¡°Yes... yes! Let it be so!¡±


    ¡°Stand there.¡± Doomwing pointed to the centre of the intricate formation he had carved into the floor of Regal Flame¡¯s lair. He would fix it later, but it was mesmerising to look at it. It combined a number of runes with various magical scripts to create something more ¨C a circle of power that would aid first in healing Firetail and then in his Ascension, should the opportunity arise. ¡°I ask you one last time, Firetail. Are you ready?¡±


    Firetail took a deep, deep breath. His fear and doubt receded. In their place, there was only resolve ¨C the same resolves that had let him stand against a primordial dragon and survive. ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Then take this.¡± Doomwing offered him the catalyst. ¡°And swallow it.¡±


    Firetail accepted the catalyst. As a student of magic and alchemy it intrigued him. It was, in many ways, the very breath of winter itself caught in a moment of time, a crystal of such pure, shimmering blue that even the sky would have been envious.


    Yet before his gaze, the crystal blurred, its edges, faces, and corners expanding and then blurring as they twisted in on themselves and bled into higher and lower dimensions. It was there and not there, something whose presence filled the present but also blurred into the past and future. Cold radiated off it, a cold so deep and all-encompassing that it called to mind the desolate, endless wastes of snow and ice that ruled the far north and south, lands where winter never ceased and summer was only a rumour. It was truly incredible, and there was a part of him that would have been happy to stare at it for years and years. Of course, however, it had other, more important, uses.


    Firetail steeled himself ¨C and then he swallowed the catalyst.


    For a long moment, there was nothing. There was no biting cold, no surge of power. He looked askance at the two dragons. Regal Flame looked curious too, but it was Doomwing¡¯s expression that made him wary. There was no doubt or concern on the dragon¡¯s face, only pity.


    And he was right to feel pity.


    A heartbeat passed, then two, and then, on the third, cold consumed Firetail¡¯s entire world.


    He was a fire drake, one of the strongest that had ever lived. He had only ever known warmth, especially after entering his lady¡¯s service. He knew fire and heat, and even when Soulseeker had burned his soul and body, there had been an eerie familiarity to it. He had not feared those flames, regardless of how much damage they had done.


    But now? Now, there was only cold, a deep, bitter, cruel cold that made it had to think, hard to breathe, hard to do anything. His thoughts slowed to a crawl, and every breath and heartbeat seemed to last a lifetime. His body and soul were frozen. His mind was dull. And that cold, that awful, awful cold, it was everywhere. It filled every iota of his being. It surged like a tidal wave through the very fabric of his existence.


    No.


    No!


    Doomwing had told him what he needed to do. He had to seize this cold and direct it through his body and soul, directing it toward the areas that were most badly damaged. Slowly, so very slowly, he willed the growing ice and frost within him to obey. It was sluggish, like trying to alter the flow of the very tides ¨C but only for a moment.


    A will much greater than his own, along with power incomparable mightier than his, was suddenly there beside him. It could have crushed him in an instant, yet it did not. Instead, it bolstered his fragmenting will, gave strength to his faltering power. It was his lady, and rather than recoil from her, he embraced her intervention.


    Her power brushed against his and then through it, following the paths he had sought to establish. If Frostfang¡¯s cold was the greatest in the world, then his lady¡¯s heat was no less daunting. Together, they seized control of the bitter cold, shunting it through his body and weaving it into his soul. For the first time in more than an Age, Firetail felt that horrible, burning sensation fade. At the same time, the restorative effects built into the catalyst and the circle of power around him began to take effect.


    The wounds in his body and soul began to mend and then ¨C


    He felt it.


    An overwhelming, barely comprehensible desire.


    His body and soul, broken and sundered for so long, recognised that he was being made whole. They, along with the weight of his deeds since his crippling, bore down on him. He had been so close to Ascension then, and now... now as power surged into him, drawn into him from his surroundings, the urge to Ascend further returned, but with the weight of an Age behind it.


    He would have fallen if the circle around him wasn¡¯t keeping him upright. His lady¡¯s power withdrew ¨C this was not something she could help him with ¨C and Firetail was dimly aware of Doomwing¡¯s voice snapping out like a bolt of lightning through a cloudless sky.


    ¡°Push for Ascension!¡± Doomwing growled. ¡°We will aid you!¡±


    Firetail did not hesitate. No. Everything he was refused to let him hesitate.


    Instinct drove him, along with the wisdom gleaned for his previous Ascensions. He needed power ¨C all the power he could get, enough to fuel the changes to come, which meant he needed to vastly overload his reserves. Fortunately, he was in the perfect place to do that.


    He pulled on the power around him ¨C and it rushed into him. Never before had the currents of magic in the area felt so pure. Never before had they answered his call so swiftly and easily. His lady was helping him, directing the awesome might and power of the currents of magic in the area toward the circle Doomwing had crafted, trusting in the other primordial dragon¡¯s ability to moderate that flow, to somehow keep it from annihilating Firetail.


    Power seared through Firetail, a surge of molten heat that threatened to overwhelm his newly healed body and soul. It was a pain beyond anything he had experienced, beyond even the pain of his crippling. It threatened to drive him mad as the raw energy coursing through him sought to remake his very being. An Age of stagnation and decline was being swept away in moments, the relentless pressure of Ascension pushing him higher and higher.


    Vaguely, he was aware of Doomwing doing as he¡¯d promised. Telekinesis split his scales and flesh and carved magical script onto his bones and organs as mystical ink flowed through his wounds. Part of Firetail wanted to laugh. Doomwing had been right. He had barely felt that through the pain. Yet the effects of his intervention were immediate. The fog around his mind cleared slightly, and the agony he felt dimmed just enough for him to focus and properly guide the power raging through him.


    Ascension was no easy thing, and each level of Ascension had a specific requirement.


    At this level, he knew what he needed to do. His heart was more than an organ that pumped blood through his body. It had metaphysical meaning too, which was why so many hearts crystallised upon death.


    Right now, his heart was a thing of flesh and blood. To Ascend, he needed to replace it with something more, something that could house his soul if necessary, for it was his soul that would change the most during this Ascension, soaring past its current state to become something that was capable of lasting far longer and able to influence the world around him to a far greater extent.


    His soul would no longer be bound strictly to his body. Instead, it would be able to bleed into his surroundings, imposing his will upon them. To do that, he would have to use the essence of his soul and combine it with his heart to form something new. He would have to take something ¨C the soul ¨C that was more than physical and use it transform a purely physical thing ¨C his heart ¨C into something more.


    He focused on that thought. To shape his soul and give it concrete form was not easy. He thought of the preparation he had done in the past ¨C preparation Doomwing had quizzed him on prior to beginning ¨C and did his best to do as he¡¯d learned. Focus. His soul was everything he was. To crystalise it was hard. To do so for its entirety was impossible. In metaphysical terms, his heart was not everything he was. Instead, it was defined by the core aspects of his being. Combining his heart and his soul meant taking what was most important to him and giving it form and purpose and function.


    Fire.


    Loyalty.


    Determination.


    Service.


    These four things had guided him in life, like the four cardinal directions of a compass, and they were the four cornerstones of his soul that he would use to make his new heart. Dimly, he was aware of the power continuing to surge through him, of the magics both Doomwing and Regal Flame were employing to buy him more time and clarity.


    His soul, a nebulous, impossible to pin down thing finally began to grow more solid. His heart, a chunk of muscle that had beat mightily for Ages, began to slow and then crumble.


    For a split-second, his heart ceased beating.


    For a split-second, his soul hung in the balance.


    And then heart and soul became one.


    A star bloomed to life within his chest.


    He almost passed out at the sudden shockwave of power, one that came not from the awesome currents of magic surging into the chamber but from within him, from the sun-fire that now blazed inside his chest.


    This was Ascension, the feeling he had thought he¡¯d lost forever.


    Flame erupted around him.


    He roared.


    Doomwing studied Firetail intently. ¡°A most excellent Ascension.¡±


    Regal Flame nodded. She had seen many Ascension, for many drakes served her. None had come close to the sheer ferocity and power of Firetail¡¯s. ¡°Indeed.¡±


    The most obvious difference was size. Firetail had been seven hundred feet long. No more. Now, he was closer to nine hundred feet in length. Then there were his scales. Before his Ascension, they had been dull and faded. Now, they were a vibrant, rich, almost bloody red that called to mind Regal Flame¡¯s own scales. In the past, before his crippling, they had not looked quite like that. Doomwing wondered how much of the change was down to his Ascension and how much had been influenced by Firetail¡¯s loyalty and affection for Regal Flame.


    Extending his senses, Doomwing could only nod in approval. Power flowed through Firetail in a way it never had before. Rather than a heart pumping mere blood through his veins, there was now a star of might radiating power through every fibre of his being. If he had to guess, then compared to his earlier prime, Firetail¡¯s power had increased more than ten-fold. For now, his power was still turbulent, but it would settle soon, at least enough for him to greet the others.


    More.


    Yes, that was the best way to describe it.


    Firetail was more.


    More powerful. More durable. More capable of influencing the world around him.


    Firetail was more than he had ever been, and already, Doomwing could see the currents of magic responding to his clumsy, awkward attempts to manipulate them ¨C a power granted to only the mightiest of drakes.


    Slowly, Firetail got to his feet. His eyes blazed with power, and flame rippled over his body. His wings beat the air, strong and sure and swift.


    ¡°How do you feel, old friend?¡± Regal Flame asked.


    The drake ¨C who could now look forward to millennia of extra life instead of mere centuries ¨C bared his teeth in a truly draconic smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never felt better.¡±


    Regal Flame smiled back, her grin every bit as toothy. ¡°Then let us go for a flight.¡± She chuckled. ¡°The market is being set up. Let us fly over there. Let them see what you have become.¡±


    ¡°The market?¡± Firetail shook himself. ¡°Ah. Yes. With so many dragons gathering, it makes sense.¡±


    When so many dragons gathered, it was not uncommon for them to set up a market of sorts where resources and services could be exchanged.


    ¡°There are some who doubted you,¡± Regal Flame said. ¡°After they see you, they will doubt no more.¡±


    Firetail flexed his wings again and then spread them wide as if he couldn¡¯t quite believe the strength he now possessed. He laughed. ¡°It has been so long, my lady, since we have flown together. For too long, I would have held you back. Now... now, perhaps, we can fly together as we once did.¡±


    Regal Flame¡¯s lips curled. ¡°Oh? You may have Ascended, old friend, but do you truly think you can keep up?¡¯


    ¡°I will simply have to try.¡±


    As Regal Flame launched herself out of her lair, Firetail followed, the pair racing swiftly up into the sky. Doomwing followed at a more sedate pace as his gaze drifted toward the market that had been set up in the foothills near the desert. Many dragons had already arrived. Amongst them was Littletooth. He had called for his doppelganger once it became clear that a market would be established. He would allow the doppelganger to sell and trade as he saw fit... and if he happened to encounter any dragons worth recruiting, he would allow Littletooth to refer them to him for closer examination.


    Up ahead, Regal Flame glanced over her shoulder with Firetail on her heels. She sent a jet of flame toward Doomwing, more in jest than anything else, and Doomwing allowed a faint smile to cross his lips. It was an invitation. Normally, he would have refused, but perhaps it was the joy of Firetail¡¯s Ascension and his encounter with young Novawing, but he found himself accepting.


    Who better to test Firetail¡¯s new abilities than two primordial dragons?

 Side Story 1: The Marketplace

    Side Story 1: The Marketplace


    The Marketplace (Starwind)


    Rumours had spread of a great gathering of the primordial dragons. That, in and of itself, was world-shaking news. However, what truly caught the attention of the younger, less accomplished dragons was the possibility of those same primordial dragons holding the dragon equivalent of yard sales.


    Primordial dragons were far beyond lesser dragons. What they thought of as mere trash, the sorts of items they could easily make themselves with but a thought, could be viewed as priceless treasures by the younger and less mighty. And large meetings like this were perfect opportunities for primordial dragons to get rid of any items they no longer wanted. Admittedly, those items were rarely given away for free. Favours would have to be pledged or other treasures exchanged, but the mere fact that the items would be available was a tremendous opportunity for any young dragon hoping to advance.


    Starwind peered at the little doppelga?nger watching over the items that had come from mighty Doomwing''s hoard. As a student of magic, she was particularly interested in them since there was a strong possibility that grimoires, artefacts, and other mystical items would be involved. She had only recently experienced her First Awakening, so her magical senses still had a great deal of development to do. However, she was well-versed in the general ideas regarding doppelga?ngers. The one in front of her was far more advanced than anything she''d ever read about. Regardless of the analytical and scrying magic she currently had active, she would never have realised that it actually was a doppelga?nger if she hadn''t overheard an older dragon mention it. The only real give away was how powerful the doppelga?nger was. It was far stronger than her.


    "Do you have any grimoires covering ordered magic?" Starwind asked. "I don''t really mind what order of magic is involved."


    The doppelga?nger gestured, and a selection of grimoires appeared. "For a dragon of the First Awakening, these would be the most suitable... and the most affordable." His eyes narrowed. "You seem to be of the stellar dragon lineage, so this particular tome would suit you best."


    The grimoire in question floated over, and Starwind eagerly examined it. It was a treatise written in the Fourth Age by a vampire with a keen interest in magic associated with the stars. Although the terminology was archaic and not entirely familiar to her, she could already tell that she could learn a lot from it. More importantly, the book was filled with annotations. Comments, most of them scathingly critical, along with corrections and other thoughts filled the margins and the spaces between each line. The handwriting was unfamiliar to her, but whoever had written it appeared to have an immense understanding of the subject.


    "Do you know who did the annotations?" she asked.


    The doppelga?nger nodded. "Doomwing did."


    "Oh." Starwind had already been planning to purchase the grimoire, but now, she hunched over it protectively, worried that some other older and more prosperous dragon might overhear and outbid her for it. "Really?"


    "He was bored," the doppelga?nger replied. "A friend of his wanted to learn stellar magic. He was awful at it, but Doomwing wanted to make sure he wasn''t learning it wrong. Otherwise, he''d have to waste time teaching him how to do it properly. That was one of the books he reviewed before deciding to just write one of his own."


    "Oh." Starwind''s eyes widened. "How much would a copy of that book cost?"


    The doppelga?nger named the price.


    "..." Starwind blinked. "Uh... maybe some other time. How about this book? How much does this cost?"


    The doppelga?nger shrugged. "That thing? It''s basically junk, so it won''t cost you too much. Honestly, it was just taking up space in his hoard." He quoted a price.


    Starwind agreed immediately. Despite its flaws, the grimoire would help strengthen her foundations in the topic. It also contained a selection of eighth order spells, and there were even hints about how to perform spells of the ninth and tenth order. Most importantly of all, Doomwing''s comments were brutally insightful and seemed to cover all sorts of common misconceptions and issues.


    "I don''t suppose you have any artefacts related to stellar magic, do you?" Starwind asked. Although she had only recently achieved her First Awakening, it was never too early to begin preparing for her Second Awakening. Given her lack of wealth, any resources she could find would be useful, and it was best to strike now before others of her lineage arrived and had a chance to outbid her. With two younger siblings, her parents would have their claws full helping them prepare for their First Awakenings, not to mention their own continued advancement. Third Awakenings were not easy ¨C or cheap to prepare for.


    "Already planning for your Second Awakening?" The doppelga?nger grinned toothily. "That''s smart. Too many dragons wait until they''re almost ready to try before preparing, and rushing tends to lead to all sorts of mistakes." His grin widened. "Ever seen someone explode because they mishandled their Awakening?"


    Starwind went pale, her patchwork of blue, black, and silver scales shimmering worriedly. "No. But... that can happen?"


    "Oh, yes. I''ve seen it happen multiple times. A Second Awakening explosion isn''t too bad. But a failed Fourth Awakening can be dangerous." The doppelga?nger gestured again, and a broken crystal appeared. "You might be interested in that." r¦Á?o?§£¦¥s?


    Starwind looked at the crystal... and almost had a seizure. She staggered upright and then immediately hunched over the crystal, doing her best to make sure nobody else could see or sense it. "This... this is the heart of a star whale!"


    "Yeah." The doppelga?nger nodded. "Big, angry bastard too. The heart crystallised after the fight, but it broke. That jerk deliberately sabotaged it before dying." He scowled. "He should have had the decency to die gracefully instead of using his last drop of magic to damage his own heart. Oh well. Some people are just like that. It''s pretty much worthless to Doomwing, and just looking at it annoys him, so he''s getting rid of it."


    Starwind wanted to scream. Pretty much worthless? Based on its size and apparent quality, the heart must have belonged to a star whale that was roughly a mile long. Sure, the broken crystal would never be suitable for use in a proper artefact, but there was still more residual power left in it than in the rest of Starwind''s hoard combined!


    A star whale of that size was normally impossible for anyone below a Third Awakening to defeat, so even a broken heart like this should have been worth a fortune. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined being so close to one, and the thought of having it...


    If she could get the crystal, she''d have an item worthy of serving as a key focus in her push for a Second Awakening. With the right preparations, she could consume it just before attempting her Second Awakening to massively increase her chances of success. Forget having to craft another focus, a task that would require gathering all sorts of materials and performing multiple spells and alchemical procedures, she could just eat the crystal. But something like this... it had to be expensive, and she''d already bought the grimoire. Damn it. If she''d known about the crystal, she would have saved her resources for it...


    "How much?" she asked, mentally resigning herself to not having enough. Well, she was here with several of her friends. She could try to borrow resources from them although they would all be keen to obtain resources for themselves.


    The doppelga?nger quoted the price. "That should be enough. Honestly, just looking at it makes me mad too. I could fix it, but... it''s not the same. They''re always better when they''re harvested intact."


    Starwind blinked. That price was... everything she currently had with her, but still far, far, far less than she''d assumed it would cost. She couldn''t hand over the resources fast enough. "Okay!"


    With the exchange complete, the doppelga?nger watched Starwind scuttle off, the items she''d purchased stored in the most secure method available to her. It was strangely heart-warming. Doomwing had keen memories of attending similar events back in the First Age. He had saved his meagre resources and carefully assessed how much of his hoard he could spend, all to secure the resources he needed to progress and improve. His parents had helped as best they could, but they had never been particularly wealthy themselves, although they''d never really struggled.


    Now?


    Doomwing had so much stuff that he was happy to get rid of things that aggravated him or which he deemed as not being worth the space they occupied. But to others, those same items could be life changing. That grimoire, which the young dragon had valued so highly, was an item that Doomwing would have happily destroyed himself if he hadn''t been so reluctant to destroy any part of his hoard, no matter how useless. At least it had a good home, and the other dragon would likely make good use of it. For all its flaws, the tome wasn''t completely awful, and Doomwing''s notes would allow her to avoid the pitfalls and common mistakes that were rife in the discipline. He could still remember Marcus''s complaining. It was that same complaining that had prompted Doomwing to write his own book on the subject, if only to get the vampire to stop whining.


    The Marketplace (Flarewing)


    Littletooth ignored the stares directed his way courtesy of the other dragons who''d come to sell or trade resources and services. With all of the primordial dragons gathering for the first time in more than an Age, it was hardly surprising that enterprising dragons had come to make the most of the rare opportunity.


    For powerful dragons, the gathering provided not only opportunities to interact with other dragons of note but also a chance to get rid of things they no longer wanted. After all, what a dragon of the Fourth Awakening considered to be trash could easily pass for a priceless treasure amongst those younger and less accomplished. For weaker dragons, these meetings provided invaluable opportunities to acquire resources and services, along with the possibility of obtaining instruction from those with more experience and power. Dragons who lived more independently could also use these meetings to either form alliances amongst themselves or pledge their allegiance to greater powers.


    Naturally, Doomwing was not one to ignore all the possibilities the meeting provided. Since he would have his claws full dealing with his fellow primordial dragons and their more senior followers, he had called for Littletooth The doppelga?nger had swiftly selected suitable items from the hoard before storing them and then making his way to Regal Flame''s territory. Although he possessed only a fraction of Doomwing''s might, he was still more than capable of outfighting or escaping all but the mightiest threats. Now that he had arrived in Regal Flame''s territory, only a complete fool would dare to threaten him. Not only did he closely resemble Doomwing but Regal Flame had also paid a visit to the stall he was setting up. The other dragon had looked upon him with a strange expression before going on her way, but not before making it clear that he was under her official protection. To move against him would be to move against her, and in her territory, that meant death.


    The other primordial dragons had yet to arrive, so the only vendors were Littletooth and the other vendors who came from Regal Flame''s territory. Most were dragons of the First or Second Awakening. Many were acting on behalf of older dragons. Once a dragon achieved their Third Awakening, they would immediately turn their attention toward Awakening further. After all, a dragon who had reached their Fourth Awakening could afford to take their time. As such, those dragons had already begun to congregate in the areas where the primordial dragons and other dragons of the Fourth Awakening would be gathering. There, they could seek further instruction and petition for the resources and services they required to Awaken further. The more pedestrian matter of selling items to younger and weaker dragons could be left to their children or juniors.


    That left Littletooth in the somewhat amusing but awkward position of being, by far, the smallest dragon there but also the most wise and powerful. Oh well. If nothing else, there was a certain... fun to be had in playing the role of an enterprising merchant. It wasn''t the first time he''d done it. As a monk, there were certain constraints on Brother Tiger''s behaviour. If haggling or outright deception and trickery were involved when dealing with merchants and their ilk, then Doomwing had been more than happy to intercede, both to soothe his old friend''s conscience and because outwitting those overconfident fools had provided extra amusement.


    Besides, it was enjoyable to see the youngest of his kind going about their business and pursuing their own Awakenings. He had achieved his Fourth Awakening a long, long time ago. Yet he still had fond memories of the process. Not all of it, of course. His Second Awakening was a matter he thought about as little as possible. However, the pursuit of his First Awakening had certainly been enjoyable, at least in retrospect. Likewise, his pursuit of his Third and Fourth Awakenings had been thrilling.


    WIth the makeshift market opening in earnest, the first wave of young dragons eager to try their luck arrived, and Littletooth settled back onto his haunches.


    What sort of customers would he encounter today?


    Flarewing had yet to achieve her First Awakening, so she was more than a little anxious about her progress. Her parents, who served great Regal Flame, had counselled her to be patient. The First Awakening was important. Laying a solid foundation was key, and rushing would only hinder her progress in the future. Yet she couldn''t help being envious when she saw her friends, all of whom were similar in age to her, achieve their own First Awakenings.


    She was being left behind.


    To take her mind off her troubles, her parents had given her some extra resources and told her to visit the market. Safety wasn''t an issue. Dragons of the Third Awakening had been assigned to oversee the market. Anyone who stepped out of line would be severely punished. Should they prove insufficient, they could readily call upon dragons of the Fourth Awakening to aid them. And if those dragons proved insufficient, then Regal Flame herself was mere moments away. Mighty Doomwing was also present, and her parents had joked that it would be better to die at Regal Flame''s claws than to draw the other primordial dragon''s ire.


    Apparently, the last time someone had tried to attack and rob a merchant at a market where Doomwing was in attendance had resulted in the offender exploding on the spot due to a brutal application of the nova dragon''s telekinesis.


    That was... terrifying. The dragon who''d died had reached his Third Awakening, yet he had died without even being able to defend himself. At the same time, however, it was reassuring. Who would dare to make trouble with two primordial dragons around, one of whom was known for being extremely ruthless toward troublemakers? It wasn''t as if Doomwing just went around exploding people for no reason. According to her parents, everyone who entered the market swore an oath to uphold its rules. Those rules were sacred and had been passed down since the First Age. The gods themselves had ordained those rules, and those same rules were used not only for the markets run by dragons amongst their own kind but also the larger markets that involved species of all kinds. To a primordial dragon who had actually met and known the gods, breaking those rules must have come across as an insult of the very worst kind.


    So Flarewing could go about her business in the market without fear. Admittedly, people might haggle, yell, and posture, but that was it. There were strict rules in place, and she had been briefed about them before entering the market, and she had only been granted entry after making an oath to uphold them. The dragon in charge of accepting oaths had done his best to reassure her, reminiscing briefly about his own experiences before his First Awakening. He had even offered her some advice: seek out the smallest merchant. He might have something useful for her.


    The smallest merchant?


    That was an odd comment to make, but Flarewing decided to trust the older dragon. What would he gain by lying to her? But how should she find the smallest merchant? She could ask around... or not.


    Not far away was a merchant who was even smaller than her. What stood out most, though, even more than his size, were his scales. His scales were a vivid mix of blue and red. He must belong to same lineage as Doomwing! Draconic greed stirred in her heart. Her parents had told her that older, more powerful dragons often left the business of disposing of unwanted items to their children or juniors. It was known that Doomwing didn''t have any children of his own, but surely the arrival of a small dragon of the same lineage could not be a coincidence!


    She quickly made her way over to the dragon.


    "Greetings," she said politely. "I am Flarewing. Might I take a look at some of the items you have?"


    "Hmm..." The dragon glanced up from the item he was fiddling with. It appeared to be a scrying sphere of some kind, but it''s exact nature was beyond her. "You''re polite. That''s good. Politeness costs you little but may gain you very much whereas being impolite may cost you everything."


    She nodded quickly. "My parents told me that I should always be polite. You never know what the future holds, and there''s no need to make unnecessary enemies."


    "A wise approach." The dragon sat up. "I am Littletooth. Hmm... you''ve yet to undergo your First Awakening."


    She winced. It was true, but the other dragon had spoken so bluntly. "That''s right. But I''m hopeful it won''t be long."


    "Is that so?"


    She blinked and then gasped as she felt scrying and analytical magic wash over her. That magic was far more advanced than even her parents'' magic! What kind of dragon was she dealing with?


    "You have a very, very solid foundation. Whoever has been instructing you has done an excellent job." Littletooth walked around her in a slow circle, poking and prodding her with his claws. Each touch was accompanied by another small burst of magic. "Yes. It''s been a while since I''ve seen such a good foundation outside of the family of a primordial dragon. Who are your parents?"


    "Blazehowl and Flamereach. They serve great Regal Flame."


    "What Awakenings have they achieved?" Littletooth asked.


    "Um..." Flarewing hesitated. The information she''d provided wasn''t hard to find. However, discussing the Awakenings of her parents was a more sensitive matter.


    "Fear not," Littletooth said. "I serve Doomwing. I may also possess some small knowledge about Awakenings myself." The dragon chortled. "I am no enemy to servants of Regal Flame."


    Flarewing clenched her claws and then relaxed. Who would dare to lie about their connection to Doomwing with the legendary dragon so near at hand? "They have achieved their Second Awakenings and are working toward their Third Awakenings. However, they are perhaps only a third to half of the way there."


    "Interesting. Were they the ones who helped you with your foundation?" Littletooth asked.


    "Yes, but Lady Regal Flame also offered some advice." Flarewing smiled sunnily. "She takes an interest in all the hatchlings, especially those of her lineage. She has developed a curriculum to help us prepare for our First Awakenings."


    "Is that so? A wise decision."


    "I''ve been taking the same classes as the others, but they''ve already had their First Awakenings. However, I keep getting asked to do more and more work on my foundation." She drooped. "I wonder if it''s because I lack talent."


    Littletooth laughed. "Is that what you think?" He snickered. "It is the opposite. You have ample talent, which is why more time must be spent to hone it. After all, a tool made of poor metal needs little time in the forge. It will never amount to much. But a tool forged of fine steel needs more time in the forge to bring out its best."


    "Is that true?" Flarewing perked up. "You''re not just saying that, are you?"


    "Like I said, I know a little bit about Awakenings." Littletooth gave her a sly grin. "You must be looking for something to help with your First Awakening, right? From what I can see, there isn''t much more work for you to do. Within a year, at the very most, you will have to make the attempt, if only because there is nothing left for you to work on. You will need a catalyst then."


    Flarewing nodded eagerly. "My instructors say that the best catalysts are those that can absorb a large amount of magic and then release it when called for. They also need to have specific properties depending on which lineage you belong to."


    "That is indeed the case. The First Awakening is akin to lighting a fire. Your foundation ¨C which is built on talent and hard work ¨C serves as the fuel. What you need is an appropriate spark. That is the role the catalyst serves. A good catalyst will make your First Awakening swift and maximise its quality. A poor catalyst will leave you with impurities, blockages, and other problems to address before you can attempt a Second Awakening." Littletooth left her side to rummage through the items he''d brought before emerging with one. "This might be to your liking."


    Flarewing studied the item for a moment and then leaned forward eagerly. "This is the heart of a volcano hydra!"


    "You have a keen eye," Littletooth said. "I don''t think many dragons of your level would recognise it."


    Flarewing''s tail wagged happily. "I like to study."


    "Volcano hydras live in and around volcanos. They have powerful regenerative abilities and are closely associated with fire magic, as well as nature magic. When used as a catalyst, they offer two main benefits: they help reduce the stress imposed on the body, and they allow for a more controlled release of power, minimising the risk of being overwhelmed by power during the Awakening process. They aren''t good catalysts for everyone, but for people with excellent control of their magic and solid foundations, there are few things better."


    Flarewing considered his words carefully. From what she''d heard, one of the most important parts of the First Awakening was guiding the flood of power that accompanied it through the body, reinforcing and in some case building new channels to carry magic through the body. Of course, dragons were inherently magical creatures. Every part of their body could carry magic. But there were still parts that were better at it and routes where magic flowed more powerfully. The First Awakening was akin to building the framework of a building. However, the pain involved, combined with the sudden explosion of power could lead to mistakes being made. While such mistakes could be corrected afterward, it look significant time and effort to do so.


    The item Littletooth had offered the possibility of making the process significantly easier and more productive.


    "If it''s such a good item, why are you getting rid of it?"


    "The items I''m selling or trading all come from Doomwing''s hoard," Littletooth explained. "What use is a catalyst for a First Awakening to him? If he ever needed one, he could either obtain one himself or simply craft one using alchemy. This item is simply something he picked up after the hydra in question tried to make off with an item from his hoard. He killed it for its arrogance and kept the heart out of habit. However, he doesn''t have any real reason to keep it."


    "Is that so?" Flarewing looked around. She lacked the expertise to be sure of his words, but... ah! A friend of her mother''s was nearby. She signalled to the other dragon, and Emberdive came over. She greeted the older dragon and asked her to examine the heart.


    "Hmm..." Emberdive''s brows furrowed as she used her own magic to examine the heart. "This is good... a lot better than I''d expect to find at a market." She grinned. "You got lucky, child." Her eyes gleamed, and she peered at Littletooth. "I have children of my own who are hoping to undergo their First Awakenings. Do you have any more like it?"


    Littletooth shrugged. "You should bring them. I have more, but they might not be suitable. I might have something better suited to them."


    "I think I will bring them over." Emberdive nodded at Flarewing. "You should get it. From what I can tell, it came from a pretty decent hydra, and the magic used to preserve it has stopped any of the power from leaking out of it. You could use it as a catalyst right now if you wanted to."


    Flarewing thanked Emberdive as the dragon went off to fetch her children. "Well, in that case, what do you want for it?" she asked Littletooth.


    "To be honest," Littletooth replied. "I can already tell what resources you have with you. Normally, they wouldn''t be enough. There are plenty of older dragons who''d be willing to offer a better price for it." Flarewing winced. Her parents had given her some extra resources for today, but she hadn''t expected to run into such a fine catalyst. After all, how often did people just get rid of things like that? Then again, it had come from Doomwing''s hoard. He probably had great piles of better catalysts. "However, there is another way you can pay."


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "How?" Flarewing asked suspiciously.


    "There is something unusual about your magic," Littletooth said. "I would like your permission to use more powerful scrying magic to determine what it is."


    "Um... is that going to hurt me?" Flarewing asked.


    "No, and I will keep what I find secret. However, I find myself curious, and I know Doomwing would also want to know."


    "I... I guess. Okay."


    Flarewing stood still and then gasped as several greater runes snapped into place around her. Greater runes? What was going on? She wasn''t the only one to express surprise. The other dragons nearby all stopped to stare, but Littletooth ignored her, instead gazing at something only he could see, something only the runes revealed. When the runes faded he shook himself.


    "I can''t give you the hydra heart."


    "But... but that was the deal, wasn''t it?" Flarewing blurted.


    Littletooth smirked. "Yes, it was. However, it would be such a waste for you to use that trifling thing." His voice echoed in her head as he switched to private communication magic. "You should bring your parents here to speak with me later. They might not be aware of what I found. To put it simply, one of your ancestors belonged to the muse dragon lineage. It doesn''t really express itself in you very much, but there is a hint of it in your magic, and it might become more obvious as you Awaken. Moreover, with the right catalyst, you might even gain access to certain magics that would normally be unavailable or at least very difficult for someone of pure fire dragon lineage."


    Flarewing gasped. "Really?"


    Littletooth nodded and continued to speak into her mind. He gestured, and another item appeared. It was hard to look at, seeming to flicker in and out of existence. "This is a shard from a nightmare ¨C the collective fear of burning alive born when a human city was burnt to ash in the Third Age." Flarewing blanched, and he chuckled. "Fear not. It will not harm you. Instead, if used as a catalyst, it will be compatible with your fire dragon lineage while potentially drawing out the muse dragon aspect of your power."


    "How... how do you capture something like that?" Flarewing asked in wonder.


    "It''s easy enough for a muse dragon ¨C or a dragon with suitable magic. Doomwing captured it after passing over a city that had been burnt to ash during a civil war. He was curious to try different magics to see which would give the best results. This is one of his attempts."


    "What do you want for it?" Flarewing asked.


    "Hmm... allow Doomwing and me to observe your First Awakening," Littletooth said. "We have an interest in such matters, and we are both curious as to whether or not the muse dragon aspect of your power stirs, and if so, to what extent and in what way it does. Such opportunities are relatively rare, and the chance to observe would be worth more to us than whatever resources you or your parents could muster."


    "Oh." Flarewing nodded swiftly. "Of course! I agree!"


    If nothing else, having Doomwing present at her First Awakening would grant great prestige to her family. Moreover, he would be morally obligated to intervene should the worst occur, ensuring that no matter what, her life would not be at risk.


    "Good." Littletooth tucked the shard away. "I will hang onto this. Continue to look around the market. At the end of the day, bring your parents to see me. I will give the shard to them, along with a box that will ensure it is properly preserved."


    "Thank you!"


    As Flarewing went off to examine other stalls, Littletooth made a satisfied sound. Awakenings were of great interest to him, and having the opportunity observe what might be a relatively unique First Awakening was enough to put a spring in his step. In truth, the paltry wealth that could be mustered by dragons of the Second Awakening meant little to him. However, the chance to learn more about Awakenings was a treasure worthy of a primordial dragon.


    The Marketplace (Lakeburn)


    Littletooth dismissed the hatchlings who had come to examine his wares. They were young indeed, scarcely any larger than he was, and they had possessed all the enthusiasm and foolishness of youth, much to the embarrassment and dismay of their mother who had accompanied them. He had allowed them to rummage through a small pile of the least valuable items ¨C nothing dangerous or powerful ¨C before gifting them a few that were scarcely more than toys. He had little use for them, but the hatchlings were still young enough to derive some benefit. They were the draconic equivalent of the wooden blocks and mobiles popular amongst human toddlers.


    They were nothing more than trinkets, extras left behind after he had made similar toys for the hatchlings of dragons he was on good terms with. Despite their simplicity, he refused to gift any items he considered substandard. Practice was necessary to ensure perfection, and he had kept the extras because it had felt wasteful to dispose of them. Oh well. It was better they see some use, rather than rot away in his hoard. Should he ever require more, it would be trivial to craft them, and his skills had improved over the years.


    He did not have to wait long for his next customer, a blue-scaled dragon of the Second Awakening. The other dragon''s body was marred by scars, both old and new, and his gaze carried an edge absent from those who lived safely in the long shadows cast by the truly mighty. An independent dragon then, one who owed allegiance to no major faction but instead lived or died by his own merits. There had always been such dragons although he was the first he had seen at this market. He must be familiar with at least a few people from Regal Flame''s territory, or perhaps his arrival was simply a coincidence. Such dragons often made regular trips into the territory held by major factions to trade for what they could not secure or produce themselves.


    "I have heard that you are pledged to mighty Doomwing," the dragon said.


    "I am," Littletooth replied. "Is there something you''re looking for, or have you come for another purpose?"


    "I have also heard that Doomwing may be... recruiting."


    "Oh?" Doomwing had indeed given great thought to recruiting. If he was going to rule his territory in earnest, then he would need the support of other dragons to ensure it reached its full potential. Approaching dragons who had already pledged themselves to another dragon would only result in trouble. His best option was to find those of talent, loyalty, and drive who had yet to swear loyalty to anyone else. "It would depend on the dragon."


    "Hmm..." The dragon settled down in front of him. "I am Lakeburn. My family once served the mighty Searshore."


    "Searshore?" That was not a name that Doomwing had heard in a long time. "I know that name. He ruled an area beside a vast lake in the continent where the beast people once dwelt." Littletooth paused. "He was slain by the Exiled Star."


    Lakeburn nodded grimly. "He was. I was only a hatchling then, but my parents explained it to me when I was older. He was a dragon of the Fourth Awakening. When the Exiled Star appeared, a force was required to intercept him, so the primordial dragons could gather. That force was led by Chasmfang. Searshore was on good terms with him, a friend since the Third Age. When Chasmfang''s force went to confront the Exiled Star, he joined him, and he perished alongside him."


    Littletooth gave a low rumble. That had been a dark day indeed. More than once, he had wondered if he could have done anything differently. But always the answer was the same. They had needed a force to buy time for them to gather, and only a primordial dragon could lead such a force. His instructions to Chasmfang had been clear. He was supposed to retreat if necessary, yet he had chosen to stay and give battle. That decision had been brave indeed, but it had also cost him his life, along with the lives of many other brave dragons.


    "Was there no one else to take his place?" Littletooth asked. "No son or daughter who could rule after he fell?"


    "He had a son, but the son was not the dragon his father was, not even close." Lakeburn shook his head, and shadow filled his gaze. "But that was not the real problem. In the battle against the Exiled Star, the lake where we lived was destroyed."


    "Destroyed?" To his dismay, Littlefang had to think very hard about that. The entire continent had been left in ruins by the struggle against the Exiled Star, which was why the beast people of this Age lived in settlements scattered across the world, some of them little better than vagabonds. "How?"


    "Great Oblivioncaller sought to burn the Exiled Star with his black fire..."


    "Ah." Littletooth grimaced. "That would do it."


    Oblivioncaller''s black fire, when unleashed in earnest, was a terrible thing, a blazing miasma of obsidian flame that would corrupt and rot whatever it touched until there was nothing left. Doomwing had seen it turn fertile valleys into little more than bleached ash and dust within moments, and even the lush waters of the sea could be reduced to cloudy oceans of stagnant water devoid of even algae. Now that he thought about it, he could remember a battle on the shores of a huge lake.


    Oblivioncaller''s flame had laid waste to the entire countryside around it, and it had boiled the lake away as well. In an instant, a region that had been fertile and prosperous for millennia had been rendered uninhabitable. The Exiled Star had shrugged off the attack and had almost gutted the other dragon for his efforts. Only Fractal Reign''s desperate actions had managed to yank him clear of harm''s way. Yet even after the battle moved beyond the lake, Littletooth could remember that black fire burning, a relentless, ageless, deathless flame that reduced the hills to powder and left only an eerie, bone-white nightmare in its wake.


    "How long die the fires burn?" Littletooth asked quietly.


    "According to my parents, the black fires burned for a year. But even after they stopped burning, there was something wrong with the place. When they finally returned, the waters of the lake were foul and accursed, and the little vegetation that grew was twisted and stunted, offering only poison to the beasts that ate it instead of nourishment."


    Littletooth winced. That... was not as bad as it could have been. Yet it would have been a catastrophe to the dragons who had once called that place home. "And Searshore''s son?"


    Lakeburn snarled. "A dragon who lacked both his father''s courage and his wisdom. His father''s death changed him. He grew fearful of death, and his fear drove him to abandon the oaths that bound his father and the family''s pledged to him. He would demand all the resources we gathered, giving no thought to our own advancement or circumstances. Rather than abandon the wretched place our former home had become, he insisted we return there. He was afraid to fight for new territory, and it didn''t matter how sick we grew. He would not leave."


    "What did your family do?" Littletooth asked.


    "Oaths go two ways. When he broke those oaths, we were free to break ours. My parents took me and my siblings and fled. At the time, my parents were already sickly. The... darkness left by Oblivioncaller''s fire had poisoned them. Fearing that no faction would take us in, they found a place for us. It was still on the same continent, but the taint was not so bad there, and the devastation less total. We and several of the other families moved there. We had no leader amongst us, but we lived and worked together, making a living as best we could."


    "I see." Littletooth sighed. Better to have no leader than a fool in charge. "What became of your parents?"


    "They passed during the Sixth Age. I have three siblings. For all the misfortune they suffered, my parents were blessed in that regard. One by one, they have all joined factions. But I... I remained independent."


    "Why?" Littletooth asked. "And why would you change your mind now?"


    "I saw what happened to them." Lakeburn scowled. "They joined powerful, established factions. That was the safest thing to do. Yet doing so also meant their opportunities to advance were stymied. After all, if a leader had to choose between two dragons of similar power and talent, would they choose the one who had only recently joined or the one whose family has served them for millennia?"


    "Ah." Littletooth could hardly blame leaders who did that. Loyalty ought to be rewarded, and newcomers were difficult to fully trust. They would have to prove themselves before they could be accepted, and even after they did so, there would still be distance between them and the families who had served together for Ages. "Were they mistreated?"


    "No," Lakeburn said. "They were not, but they were not treated especially well either. Moreover, the more members a faction has, the less attention any individual member can receive from the leader. That is only natural, but it did not help their cause. If that is how things must be, then I would rather remain independent. At least then, I can live as I wish, and whatever successes or failures I enjoy or suffer are my own, not left to others to decide."


    "Why change your mind now?" Littletooth asked.


    "Because I have a mate, and we have a hatchling." Lakeburn scowled. "The place where we live, it is not an easy life, but we have managed well enough." He gestured at himself. "But you can see the price I have paid. The environment there is harsh and cruel. It may help forge a warrior, but it is not right for a hatchling." He smiled ruefully. "I have often wondered how much of my own progress has been stymied by that place. I have achieved my Second Awakening, but I can already tell that such may be my limit. The environment there is tough, too tough, and the resources too few. Yes, I am battle-tested, but I have also been stunted. I would not have my hatchling endure the same."


    "Then why seek out Doomwing?" Littletooth asked. "Regal Flame''s domain is prosperous. There is plenty of space here and ample resources. Should your character prove acceptable, she would take you and yours."


    "Because Doomwing is different," Lakeburn said. "He has never raised a faction of his own. No dragons serve him. No families owe him their allegiance. If I was to join him, I would have a chance to earn a position according to my own efforts." He laughed quietly. "I am not the most talented dragon or the smartest. As I said, the Second Awakening may be my limit. But my word is my bond. If I pledge my loyalty, then I will die defending that oath. And I will work hard. I do not have a lot to give, but whatever I can give, I will give. Moreover, Doomwing is wise. Though he is not a dragon of the water dragon lineage, he knows more than enough to ensure that a dragon of that lineage will prosper under his reign." His voice softened. "I have heard that at the edges of his territory there is a place with many lakes where the waters flow clean and clear. I remember my home before its fall. I should like to see something like that again."


    Doomwing did indeed have a place in his territory where there were many lakes of varying sizes. He had yet to devote much effort to that area since it was difficult to reach on foot, making it unsuitable for his human subjects. Since the dwarves only had a single sky-ship, it would not be good for them either. The lakes in that area were split between his domain and that of an ancient dryad, one born in the Third Age. Much of her territory was near the sea, and the rest was in a land filled with many lakes and rivers. To his knowledge, she had never overstepped her borders, so he had never given much thought to the area. Instead, he had decided to wait until the rest of his territory was more developed before turning his attention there. Yet if he could find the right people, there was no reason he could not begin developing it now.


    "You speak well," Littletooth said. "But I can make no promises. I do not speak for Doomwing. However, I can say this. He will hear you out. Can you remain in this area?"


    Lakeburn nodded eagerly. "Yes. My mate and my hatchling will be safe for at least a month."


    "Good. Once the meeting is concluded amongst the primordial dragons, I will introduce you to him. Should he find you worthy, he may take you into his service. Naturally, he will test you, and should he detect any lies, deception, or treachery, it will go ill for you."


    Lakeburn stood proudly. "Every word I have spoken is the truth. Speak to any who know me. Even use mind magic. I will not be found wanting."


    "We shall see." Littletooth hummed thoughtfully. "Are there any others you know, independent dragons, who might also be interested in joining Doomwing? Again, I make no promises, but if you introduce them to me, I can at least say who will and will not be given a chance." He smiled toothily. "And should you help in recruiting those of suitable talent, you will not go unrewarded."


    "What do you mean?"


    "You worry that you are stuck at your Second Awakening. I make no guarantees, but from what I sense, it may still be possible for you to progress. It will not be easy, and certain resources will be required, along with a suitable environment. However, Doomwing will be able to provide all of those ¨C and you shall receive them, should your work justify such rewards."


    Lakeburn''s eyes blazed with determination. "I may know a few. They are rough around the edges, but they are good, reliable dragons, all of them. They should be here soon as well. For an independent dragon, meetings of this size are unmissable opportunities."


    As Lakeburn left to seek out those he had spoken of, Littletooth considered his actions carefully. Doomwing was indeed considering recruiting. There was no reason that he could not help by starting early. After all, he had made no guarantees. He would introduce Lakeburn and the dragons he thought suitable to Doomwing, and Doomwing would decide. Should they prove unacceptable, it should not take Doomwing long at all to dismiss them. But should they prove worthy, they would have gained valuable followers for a pittance. After all, Doomwing did not lack for resources, and his territory was rich and filled with opportunities for lesser dragons.


    In his experience, independent dragons were lacking in certain ways. Left largely to their own devices, they were often less well-versed in magic, and their Awakenings were generally of a lower standard than those who belonged to major factions. However, magic could be taught, and the weak foundations of Awakenings could be repaired and enhanced, especially at lower levels. What could not be so easily taught or repaired were loyalty and determination, and both were key. Doomwing would not tolerate the disloyal or lazy in his service. Better a less talented and weaker dragon who was willing to die for his cause than a more talented and stronger dragon who would flee when faced with adversity.


    Littletooth was broken from his musings by the arrival of another customer. It was a young dragon of the light dragon lineage.


    "Do you have any books on healing magic?" the young dragon asked. "A friend of mine was here earlier, and she said you have all sorts of books about magic."


    "Healing magic?" Littletooth had plenty of those. "I do, but for a dragon who has only recently achieved their First Awakening, these would be the most suitable..."


    The Marketplace (Elinye)


    "Are you sure we aren''t going to get eaten?" Elinye was used to her brother coming up with idiotic ideas ¨C it was basically part of his identity at this point ¨C but the thought of walking into a marketplace in which all the customers and vendors were dragons wasn''t just idiotic. It was suicidal. "Because it sounds a lot like we''ll just get eaten."


    "Do I look like an idiot?" Derond asked.


    Seeing that obnoxiously charismatic but utterly goofy smile on his face, she could only reply one way. "Yes."


    "Hey!" Derond draped one arm around her shoulders and gestured vaguely at something only he could see. "You''re forgetting something really important. If we do this right, then they can''t eat us."


    "They''re dragons. They can eat pretty much whoever they want." That wasn''t entirely true, of course. A dragon''s ability to eat people was directly proportional to its power. For instance, only the very mightiest of dragons would ever consider going after one of the great dryads who ruled over the desert, but then again... several of those dragons were supposed to be gathering any day now.


    "Ah, but you''re forgetting something very important." Her brother grinned roguishly. "I was talking to some of the older elves, and they''re also planning to visit the market the dragons have set up at the edge of the desert."


    "Is that so?" Desert elves were long-lived, and although it wasn''t a perfect correlation, age and wisdom were usually closely related. If some of the older elves were planning to go, then maybe her brother wasn''t entirely crazy after all.


    "Yep. You see, way, way, way back in the First Age, the gods made rules ¨C rules that everybody agreed to. Now, it''s been a long time since then, and all the gods are dead, but when it comes to oaths, dragons mean business. The primordial dragons were alive back then, so they know those rules... and they still enforce them."


    Now this... this was actually starting to sound promising.


    "Go on..."


    "Basically, dragons, dryads, krakens, and all the other great species tend to accumulate a lot of stuff as they get older, so there needs to be a way for them to get rid of that stuff. The gods set up a system where those species could establish a market... a place where people could sell and trade for goods and services. The most important part, at least for us, is that the gods made it very clear that there were strict rules of conduct not only at the market but also to and from the market as well. Basically, if we swear to uphold those rules, then we''ll be granted safe conduct at the market and safe passage to and from it as well."


    "..." Elinye''s eyes narrowed. "That sounds like a load of crap."


    "Would I lie to you?" Her brother gave her his most beatific smile.


    "Yes."


    "Agh." He clutched at his heart. "You wound me, dear sister. Fine. If you don''t believe me, ask our noble lady. She''ll tell you the same."


    Elinye did exactly that, using a communication spell to ask the dryad they both served if her brother was full of crap. To her amazement he was not, in fact, full of crap. The dryad even gave her a quick but thorough explanation of how the oaths worked. Essentially, if the dragons opened the market to others ¨C which they had ¨C then they could attend safely, provided they adhered to the old oaths. Failure to keep those oaths would result in horrible, fiery death.


    "Fine, you weren''t full of crap," she said.


    "See? And think of how big an opportunity this could be!" Her brother danced a little jig around her in victory. She snorted. It was a dwarf victory jig. He must have picked it up from those traders who''d come by a decade ago. Unlike their forest-dwelling kin, desert elves had no particularly enmity with dwarves, and many of her people enjoyed their strong liquors. Meanwhile, the dwarves were always happy to trade artefacts and fine metalwork for the raw materials the desert elves could obtain from beneath the desert sands. "What a dragon considers trash might be a treasure to us, and there are all sorts of things that we have that might be useful to a younger, weaker dragon." His grin turned crafty. "Who knows, you might even find a suitable focus for your staff."


    Elinye stifled the urge to glare. That was a sore point. As a mage, a staff wasn''t mandatory. She could do plenty of magic without one. However, having a magical focus attached to a proper staff would make certain magic easier to use, as well as providing her with a number of trump cards if she ever got into a life-and-death fight. For most desert elves, the material for the staff was easy ¨C a branch gifted by the dryad they served. The focus was often obtained in the same way ¨C a fruit or seed that would grow and entwine with the staff. Elinye had tried that, but the resulting staff and focus had never felt quite right to her. The elders and her dryad had speculated it might be due to her unusual magical affinity.


    Despite being an elf, Elinye''s magic was most closely attuned to fire and lightning. It was certainly useful. Blasting her enemies was remarkably easy. However, it left her in a somewhat awkward situation since neither element was something dryads were typically associated with. Moreover, the materials that might make for a suitable focus for someone with those elemental affinities were hard, if not impossible, to come by in the desert.


    But dragons? If there was one thing they understood, it was fire. At the very least, she ought to be able to find a suitable focus for that aspect of her magic.


    "Fine," Elinye said at last. "But if we get eaten, I hope you get reincarnated as a hamster."


    Littletooth bit back a chuckle as he watched the young desert elf sneak toward his stall. And sneak was the correct word. Despite the oaths that everyone at the market had sworn, she seemed to think that the slightest misstep would result in her getting eaten by one of the market''s other attendees. Hah. An ornery dragon might posture here, but nobody was going to get eaten, not unless they were willing to draw the ire of the market''s protectors. Moreover, these desert elves had come at the behest of their dryad. To attack them openly would be to break the pacts that stood between the dryads of the desert and Regal Flame. The other primordial dragon would not tolerate such open defiance, and the offender would likely find themselves in a great deal of trouble.


    The desert elf stopped in front of his stall and breathed a sigh of relief. He didn''t have to use mind magic to know what she must be thinking. Based solely on appearance, he was, by far, the least scary dragon here.


    "Hmm..." Littletooth grinned. "It has been some time since I''ve spoken to a desert elf."


    "Oh... uh. Thanks?" The girl made a face. She was young for a desert elf, not much more than three or four decades old, unless he missed his guess. However, the magic flowing through her was pure and powerful ¨C and it was not the kind he was accustomed to seeing in elves. How curious. He sat up a bit straighter, his interest piqued. "A young dragon told me I should come here. She said you had a lot of interesting things."


    "It depends on what you consider interesting." Littletooth''s eyes narrowed. "Are you a mage?"


    "Yes," the girl replied.


    "I don''t see a staff," Littletooth said. "And I don''t detect a magical focus either."


    The girl visibly sagged. "I was hoping you might be able to help me with that. I need a focus suitable for fire and lightning magic."


    "That shouldn''t be too hard." Littletooth rummaged briefly through the pile of items behind him and then floated a gemstone over to her. "This is draconic fulgurite ¨C basically, sand that has been fused into glass by the lightning of a storm dragon."


    "Oh!" The elf gasped, eagerly reaching forward to touch the gemstone. "That could work!"


    "Give it a try," Littletooth asked, discretely activating several high-level analytical and scrying spells. He''d never met an elf with this particular combination of magical affinities, so he was curious to see her magic in action.


    The elf nodded and quickly began to cycle her magic through the gemstone. As he''d expected, the gemstone did a decent enough job of focusing her power. At the same time, however, there was still resistance. Elves and dragons were not the same. Elves were closely tied to dryads who were, in many respects, the opposite of dragons. As such, despite the match in magical affinities, the origins of the fulgurite were not ideal for the elf.


    "It''s a lot better than anything I''ve found before..."


    "I could make you something better," Littletooth said. "But I''ll need a few things... including your blood."


    "..." The elf girl froze.


    "No, I am not going to eat you. It''s for alchemy," Littletooth clarified.


    "Um... if it''s better than this crystal, how much is it going to cost?" the elf asked.


    "Hmm..." Littletooth considered his options. "There are many plants that grow in the desert that cannot easily be found elsewhere. I know a dryad who would appreciate seeds or samples of those plants."


    "A dryad?" The elf girl thought carefully. "If it''s for another dryad, it should be fine. My lady is always happy to help others of her kind."


    "If it helps, this particular dryad serves Doomwing," Littletooth added. "Establishing a friendship with her would be prudent."


    "Really?" The elf nodded eagerly. "Well, in that case, I could definitely provide seeds and samples."


    Elinye wasn''t sure what to make of the little dragon. Apart from being strangely adorable ¨C his wings were rather large for his size, and there was a certain strangeness to his proportions that made her want to hug him ¨C he was far more powerful than any dragon his size should be. For the most part, a dragon''s size was correlated with their power. A dragon of Littletooth''s size should have been a mere hatchling, yet unless her senses were deceiving her, he was more powerful than any of the dragons running a stall, some of whom had achieved their Second Awakening.


    "If you want a truly great magical focus," Littletooth said. "You need something that not only aligns with your magical affinities but which is also closely tied to you. That is why so many great mages made their focuses out of objects that carried immense personal significance to them."


    "Do you have a focus?" Elinye asked him.


    Littletooth scoffed. "Me? I have no need for such petty things." He snorted. "A focus? Me? Never." He shook his head. "Anyway, that is why I have asked you to gather sand and blood."


    The blood was hers, drawn only moments ago. The sand, however, came from the pouch she wore at her side. It was customary for all desert elves to carry a pouch full of sand. The sand came from the desert where they lived, and it was supposed to bring them good luck. In more practical terms, the sand was saturated with the power of the dryad they served, so if they ever got lost, their dryad could use the pouch to find them.


    "Blood has links to your body and soul. There are few better mediums available for the transmission of magic. There are also few things more closely linked to you than your own blood. As for the sand, you have carried it by your side for your entire life, and it is filled with the power of the dryad you serve. It too is closely bound to you."


    "What are you going to do with them?" Elinye asked.


    "Alchemy," Littletooth replied. "Are you familiar with elven magical script?"


    Elinye made a gesture with her hands. "A bit. I am still learning. I''ve been focusing more on ordered magic."


    "A reasonable choice. You can think of elven magical script as an attempt to mimic the power of true runes using means that elves find easier to accomplish. They are, in almost every sense, inferior to actual runes. However, elves do find them easier to perform, and they allow for more complicated magical feats to be broken down into a series of simpler steps. Pay attention to what I do. Even if you do not understand it today, you may have use for it in the future."


    The little dragon gestured, and intricate markings appeared on the ground. Another gesture put the sand at the centre of the markings before a third gesture added the blood. Before her eyes, the blood and sand began to mix until a sphere of blood and sand floated in the air over the markings.


    "For an elf," the dragon said. "The best way to make the focus is to use elven methods. Nothing I have done so far is beyond the ability of an elf, at least in theory. Whether or not an elf could actually do it, well, that''s not my problem."


    Littletooth tapped the ground, and there was a surge of magic greater than anything Elinye had witnessed outside of her dryad''s power. The markings lit up, and searing flames and bolts of lightning sprang from the ground and struck the sphere of blood and sand. She had to turn away to shield her eyes from the brightness, and the acrid scents of smoke and ozone filled the air. This wasn''t just alchemy. This was high alchemy, the sort that the elders of her clan would happily have killed for a chance to witness. Thankfully, she already had access to memory magic and could share what she''d seen. Otherwise, those elders might have had aneurisms out of sheer envy.


    When she could finally look back, the markings on the ground had burnt themselves away. And in place of the sphere of blood and sand was a spherical, blood-red gemstone. Yet as she looked upon it, she could have sworn she saw flickers of flame and lightning within it. Almost without thinking, she reached out to touch it. Her fingers closed around the gemstone, and she knew, then and there, that it was the focus she''d been waiting for, the one she''d dreamed of.


    "I would suggest setting it into a staff made of a branch gifted by your dryad," Littletooth said. "The gemstone also incorporates her power, so there should be no problems." He made a vague gesture, and the dust at their feet rose up to form the image of a wooden staff with roots growing around the gemstone. "Something like that should work, but I''ll leave that to your dryad or growth-smiths. Such magic is better left to them than me."


    Elinye clutched the focus tightly and bowed. "Thank you!"


    "Just make sure you get me those seeds and samples." Littletooth grinned. "And if there any elves who might be thinking of trying their luck outside the desert, let me know."

 Interlude 9: The Priestess and the Storm

    The emperor of the Storm Isles opened his eyes. Life was good. He was hale and hearty, and he had at least four children worthy of succeeding him. Of course, that could prove problematic if he died unexpectedly, but he had always been careful about both his legacy and his personal safety. He had left instructions regarding the succession with five separate individuals, all of whom he held in the highest regard, and all of whom possessed unimpeachable honour and loyalty. Frankly, if he ever took ill, he would make a point of publicly proclaiming his successor before he died. He would not go down in history as the emperor whose intransigence brought an end to centuries of prosperity.


    His keen senses, honed by decades of training, informed him that the sun had yet to rise. He yawned and was about to go back to sleep when a member of the royal guard entered his bedchamber. His eyes narrowed ominously. To enter his bedchamber unannounced was a serious breach in protocol unless...


    "Your Imperial Majesty!" The guardsman fell to one knee before the bed, studiously ignoring the woman beside the emperor. She was one of the newer concubines, a gift of sorts, from a new clan head eager to regain his favour after the previous clan head''s missteps. "The Storm Wardens have reported! The storm is moving!"


    The emperor took a moment to process the words and then shot to his feet. The woman in the bed yelped as the sudden motion threw her out of the bed, but the emperor ignored her in favour of throwing on clothes as quickly as he could.


    "You are certain?" he asked. "If this is a mistake..."


    The guardsman nodded, helping the emperor dress before falling into step beside him as the emperor left his bed chamber. Previous rulers had insisted on their guardsmen walking behind them. He considered that foolishness. How were his guardsmen supposed to stop him from being stabbed if they were all behind him? "It has been confirmed." The guardsman''s lips thinned. "I too have gazed to the west. The storm is moving. It should be here soon."


    "Damn it." The emperor was dimly aware of the sudden surge of activity throughout the imperial palace and the capital at large. His advisors were proving themselves worthy of their positions. Already magical defences and more mundane preparations were being enacted. Yet as they crossed a courtyard, he had eyes only for the western sky. There, a vast and terrible storm loomed, a wall of black clouds that seemed to stretch across the entire horizon, the towering thunderheads illuminated by jagged bolts of lightning that turned the night into day. "She''s almost here." He raised his voice, adding magic to it to be heard over the thunder that boomed overhead. "Where is the Priestess?"


    Akemi bit back the urge to scream as she hurried to dress. As the Priestess, it was her solemn duty and highest honour to serve as a link between the great dragon who actually ruled over the Storm Isles and the human empire that pretended to rule over the Storm Isles. Centuries ago, the very first Priestess had ventured into the domain of mighty Stormbringer to beseech the dragon for aid. In order to prove herself worthy, the Priestess had participated in a sacred ritual to bestow blessings upon worthy animals. Apparently, she had passed Stormbringer''s test, and the dragon had granted her a boon.


    In the centuries since then, the line of Priestesses had come to serve as the link between the dragon and the humans who lived in her domain. The position was not hereditary. Instead, upon the death of the previous Priestess, special candidates were chosen from amongst the young maidens of the empire. Only the most worthy of those candidates would take up the mantle of Priestess, becoming arguably the second most important person in the empire. Akemi herself had not been anyone important before being chosen. Instead, she had been a mere cobbler''s daughter. Nevertheless, the magic used to identify her had been developed by Stormbringer and Tyche themselves. It did not lie, and the dragon had proclaimed Akemi to be a particularly worthy Priestess after her participation in the sacred ritual had apparently yielded outstanding results.


    Now, at only nineteen years of age, Akemi wielded power second only to the emperor himself although some would argue hers was even greater. She lived in a sacred temple at the edges of the capital, protected not only by an elite order of warrior maidens but also by a number of Stormbringer''s followers, including one of the great dragon''s grandchildren. And it was to that grandchild that Akemi now directed her ire.


    "Was there truly no warning?" Akemi wailed at Typhoonbolt.


    "About what?" The female dragon continued to do her best impression of a beached whale on the slope beside the temple.


    "About that!" Akemi shrieked and pointed at the titanic wall of storm clouds that was approaching the capital with frightening speed.


    "Oh, you mean grandma?" Typhoonbolt sat up. "Yeah, she said she was going on a trip with some of the others. Something about a meeting."


    "..." Akemi stifled the urge to scream before setting aside any thoughts of restraint. Instead, she hurried over to Typhoonbolt''s side and threw a magically enhanced punch at the dragon. Her guards let out gasps of amazement - only a Priestess would dare to lay hands on a dragon! - but all Akemi could do was curse as her punch clattered off Typhoonbolt''s scales uselessly. Damn it. She might have broken her hand.


    "Hey." Typhoonbolt sat up, and a wisp of healing magic drifted over Akemi''s wounded hand. "Why are you panicking so much?"


    Akemi took a deep breath. She had been chosen as a young child, and she could hardly remember a time before Typhoonbolt had been present in her life. The dragon might be exasperatingly laid back at times, but Akemi trusted her with her life. "Because that storm is going to smash the capital flat!"


    "Huh..." Typhoonbolt made a face. "Now that you mention it, grandma does tend to forget about stuff like that." She shrugged. "She said something about wanting to make an impression while travelling, but she might have forgotten about, you know, being able to accidentally kill you all by not restraining her power properly."


    "..." Akemi made a choking sound. She wanted to get mad about that comment, but it was hilariously, horribly true. The approaching storm wasn''t something that Stormbringer was doing to deliberately destroy them. No. It was merely the result of the mighty dragon loosening the tight hold she had over her powers. After all, she was the mightiest of all storm dragons, an existence that defied comprehension. She didn''t call storms, so much as she was the greatest storm in the world made flesh, a seething, raging torrent of power that could easily crush everything in her path if she wasn''t careful. "Look," Akemi said. "Just... can you ask her to go around the capital or something? Please!"


    Typhoonbolt sighed. "Yeah. Yeah. I''ll send her a message." Her tail reached out, and the very tip of it gave Akemi a gentle pat on the head. "You look like you''re about to cry, and we both know how absolutely awful you look when you cry. So turn that frown upside down. I''ll send a message to my grandma."


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Stormbringer smiled as one of her grandchildren, Typhoonbolt, reached out to her with communication magic. The younger dragon had achieved her First Awakening less than a century ago and was busy consolidating her gains. Since much of her time would be spent looking inward, Stormbringer had tasked her with watching over the newest Priestess. Humans were very fragile, and it would be troublesome if something happened to the girl. Luck magic was incredibly rare, and although the increased luck the Priestesses had only seemed to apply to throwing things into the Pool of Ascension, it was still quite useful, albeit not something she could ask them to do too often. At best, a Priestess might be able to ensure a truly fortunate outcome every year or so, but that was fine. One year was hardly a long time for a primordial dragon to wait.


    "What is it Typhoonbolt?" Stormbringer asked.


    "Grandma, do you think you could go around the human capital? You''re kind of going to smash it."


    "Smash it?" Stormbringer''s brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"


    "..." There was silence over the communication spell before Typhoonbolt continued. "Grandma, you know how you wanted to put on a show while going to the meeting?"


    "Yes..." It was common sense. Meetings between primordial dragons were as much a spectacle as they were practical. It was not enough to be strong. One had to be seen as strong. Stormbringer intended to remind everyone of why she and her brood were to be respected. Let them see the power of the great storm firsthand and realise exactly where they stood. Oh, the other primordial dragons respected her, even if some of them looked down upon her hobbies. However, there were many younger dragons who had not seen her and her brood in battle. To them, their deeds would be mere stories... and over time stories might turn into myths and legends, things to be discounted rather than believed. But seeing was believing. "What about it?"


    "I know you''re not trying to do it on purpose, but even releasing a small portion of your full strength could destroy the humans in your path." Typhoonbolt''s voice took on a hint of urgency. "Look ahead of you, grandma."


    Stormbringer did. Ahead of her, the humans in the city were preparing all manner of magical and mundane defences. Normally, Stormbringer would have been insulted if someone tried to defend against her with such pitiful measures, but these defences were likely the best the humans could muster. However, the fact that they were using them was telling. They were terrified, and not in an amusing way. No. They were terrified that they would be completely annihilated.


    "Hmm... you''re probably right." Stormbringer gestured at the others flying alongside her. "Clear the skies," she ordered. "At least until we''re away from the archipelago and out over open water." She smirked. "I plan on meeting Fathombinder along the way, and it''s always fun to see if I can wrestle control of the rain away from him."


    Akemi fell to her knees in relief as the skies cleared. Despite how utterly ominous the approaching storm had been, there was now nothing overhead except clear skies and stars. The change was equal parts startling and terrifying. This was the power of Stormbringer, the dragon who ruled over the Storm Isles, the very same dragon who gave those isles their name. Overhead, more than two dozen titanic shapes soared through the sky. The largest of them was a behemoth whose sheer size hurt to look upon.


    And yet Akemi did look because in her whole life she had never seen anything as beautiful as Stormbringer.


    The great dragon was utterly resplendent in the starlight, her scales a dazzling combination of silver, blue, grey, and black. Her form was enormous yet graceful, her wings so wide they seemed to span the sky. Every inch of her gigantic form oozed power, pure and perfect, a storm made flesh. Little bolts of lightning crackling over her scales, and each beat of her wings was a gale that threatened to throw Akemi off her feet despite how high the dragon flew above the ground.


    "Phew." Typhoonbolt grinned toothily. "It looks like nothing will get smashed today."


    Akemi nodded. "Yeah. It looks that way." She paused. "Um... if it''s not too much trouble, do you think we could join them, at least for a while?"


    Typhoonbolt looked at her. "Join them?"


    "I..." Akemi''s fists clenched. "They say that Stormbringer let the Fourth Priestess ride upon her back once."


    "The Fourth Priestess?" Typhoonbolt made a face. "Ah. Grandma has mentioned her a few times. They got along pretty well." She sighed. "It''s a shame she was human. She only live a hundred and twenty years before she died."


    "I don''t think I''ve done anything to deserve such an honour, yet I still wish to fly, if not on great Stormbringer, then perhaps on you." Akemi tried and failed to conceal the longing she felt. "I want to know what it''s like to soar through the clouds as dragons do, to fly more swiftly than the wind, to -"


    An enormous claw reached out and very carefully scooped her up before putting her on Typhoonbolt''s back. Magic snapped into place, holding her securely in position. "How long have you felt that way?" Typhoonbolt asked, not quietly, but gently.


    "A long time," Akemi said. "Since I first saw great Stormbringer soar through the sky."


    "Yeah, seeing grandma fly will do that to you. Oh, sure, all dragons can fly." Typhoonbolt laughed. "But grandma... she can fly." She paused. "But you know, if you wanted to fly that much, you could always have asked me."


    "..." Akemi blinked. "What?" she croaked.


    "Yeah. You could have asked. I kept wondering why you always travelled to grandma on those giant wolves, but I figured you might be afraid of flying. Most creatures who can''t fly naturally are."


    "But... but we never conducted a ritual to prove my worthiness," Akemi blurted.


    "A ritual? Why would we need to do that? Your predecessors didn''t. They just asked."


    "Are you serious? That''s it?" Akemi made a choking sound.


    "Yeah. Didn''t they write that down somewhere?"


    "No! They did not write that down!" Akemi grabbed her head with her hands. She could have been flying this entire time?


    "Well, no use complaining about it now." Typhoonbolt shifted, muscles tensing as she prepared to launch herself up into the sky. "Grandma isn''t going anything close to full speed, but she''s got a bit of a head start on us, so hold on. We''ve got some catching up to do."


    "Wait a second," Akemi said. "I need to mentally prepare myself first. This will be the first time that I - ah!"


    Typhoonbolt lanced upward, racing to catch up to Stormbringer and the others.


    Below them, having only just arrived at the temple, the royal guardsmen dispatched by the emperor to summon Akemi could only stare up in disbelief.