Her bolt struck the black in the head. Her daughter’s eyeballs popped as the fluid in them was super-heated by the plasma. Glistening black scales gave way to untold power, splitting wide open to reveal white bone underneath. Then, even that bone cracked and split. Thus died a great wyrm as its brain was fried by the power of the mother of all dragons.

  The battle raged on, a symphony of roars, hisses, and the sound of tearing flesh. Tiamat was a whirlwind of destruction, her heads moving in perfect harmony as she fought off her challengers. I sensed her confidence growing as her power radiated outwards. She was the queen of dragons, and she would not be dethroned.

  And then, as quickly as it had begun, the battle’s end came into sight. The blue, weakened from the acid attack, was the next to fall. His body crashed to the ground with a final, pitiful roar. Tiamat pounced on him, driving the air from his lungs. The jagged rocks beneath the blue ripped him asunder as her great claws removed his head from his neck.

  Praxius stood strong, despite the blood pouring from his wounds. He was a dragon of fire, and he would not go down without a fight. But Tiamat was relentless, and she could sense his strength waning.

  With a final, mighty roar, she dove at him. Their bodies clashed in the air, but will alone was not enough. Praxius might have believed he was right, but dragons know that power alone proves the truth. Tiamat lashed out, batting away his claws, and then her central head bit down upon his neck. Her powerful jaws drove her fangs through his scales and she tasted his lifeblood. The surge of bloodlust she felt empowered her as she ripped his throat open. When all four of the other heads attacked him, Tiamat ended Praxius’ suffering.

  Tiamat stood victorious, her body heaving with exertion. She had demonstrated her strength, defended her dominion, and proven that she would not be challenged. Her way was the only way.

  I couldn’t understand exactly what her intentions were, but it seemed she meant to change Ileria. That much I could sense. I could also feel her satisfaction, her pride.

  She had won, but at what cost? These had been her children, her blood. The reality of the battle, the loss, suddenly hit her and I felt her sorrow, sensed her heartache. She was a primal being, one who would not hesitate to kill, she simply wished her children would grow wiser.

  Strength was the first law, even family came second to that, and true freedom could only be secured with blood.

  Now she tilted all of her heads upward. In unison, they screamed a paean of triumph. The notes of their cry continued and twisted. Then it was the very sky which twisted above her. A great portal was wrenched open in space and on the other side, I saw a lush blue and green world.

  Tiamat looked all around her. She had done it. I felt a greater exultation within her at opening the portal, than at defeating her offspring. For now, she waited. The portal hummed above her in the air, but she made no move to go through it.

  Then I felt the weight of her consciousness as it settled on me. “Are you the one who follows?”

  Within her question, I felt a surprising depth of emotion. She was the queen of dragons, the mother of all, but she was alone.

  Interlude 4 - Divine Issues

  Miseria stormed about the pocket dimension she called her own. It was open like a forest and reminded her of a home lost to the ages. Yet for all that had been taken from them—for all that they had been taken from might be a more appropriate way to think of it—the gods had gained so much.

  But now she cursed. If only he would have accepted her help, she could have shaped his growth before he became… Well, there was no point considering what he would become. Even to her, the future was still in flux. They might experience time in ways that no mortals could understand, but they were still beholden to Eternity.

  Then she felt a pressure against her pocket world, that tiny microcosm of a world that brought back pleasant memories. This pocket world was small enough that even a human could have run from one end to the other in an hour. Not that a human could have stood here, let alone taken a single step—the gravity was far greater here than on Ileria.

  There, forests covered much of the world. Just as they did here in her little home. It was a place she called her own, one where she and her pets could focus. This, of course, wasn’t the realm where the souls of her faithful went. That was a duty that she could not and would not shirk. No, only a precious few mortals ever learned about this pocket world.

  Now, though, it appeared she was going to have a guest. No… as the pressure built, she changed that to plural—make that guests. She calmed herself. They were going to be upset with her as it was. She didn’t want them to see just how agitated she was herself.

  When she lowered her resistance, a rift opened in the side of her pocket world. A tear in space appeared, allowing five figures to walk in. The bearded one led. She found it disconcerting that he was becoming active again. Of the twelve, she had always counted him amongst the more distractible. But his power couldn’t be denied.

  Allinor, the god of magic, called out, “Greetings, Miseria. Thank you for allowing us entrance to your home.”

  Behind him, a shorter dwarven figure barked, “Oh, don’t go blowing smoke up her skirt, old man. She knows why we're here. She attempted to steal that which isn’t hers to take.”

  Miseria’s face remained as placid as a still pond, but inwardly she cursed. Hepha, the goddess of crafts and merchants, was always a bit too crass for her own good. But Miseria knew that to her, theft was the greatest of all offenses.

  Behind the short figure, the others were well known to Miseria. And why shouldn’t they be? Once upon a time, the twelve had all been part of an elite group, serving… well, she didn’t like to think about those times. Temulara, goddess of the sea and chaos, Nilarue, lord of the sky, and Mal’zek, god of beasts. All were present.

  “What, only five of you? I half expected that all eleven would be required, given the urgency of the weight on your souls.”

  Allinor replied, “Now is not the time to be light with your words. We twelve have not met since the Pact was signed—and you well know why. Pray to the Remnant that such a cause never arises.”

  Temulara laughed, “Don’t be so melodramatic, Allinor. Miseria is only trying to rile us up to keep the focus off what she’s done. But, I see right through her.” The goddess of the deep tutted softly, “You can’t sow chaos and expect to fool the goddess of chaos.”

  Miseria smiled as Temulara showed her true form. It wasn’t what she normally presented to others. Or perhaps her true form wasn’t the right way to put it… rather, her original form. She was only three feet tall, with long pointed ears, jagged teeth, and features as sharp as her bite. Her clawed fingers told a tale of grubby hands which liked to grab more than they could hold.

  Mal’zek, in the shape of a muscular man with a bull’s head said, “Enough posturing, Miseria. Tell us why we should not strike you down now.”

  Allinor shook his head. “Always so quick to fight, Mal’zek. I’d have thought you’d have left your brutish ways behind you. We exist because we believed that might be not the only way. Besides, you know we could never allow one of our own to fall. The imbalance this would cause would be devastating. Eternity ever demands balance.”

  The bearded man turned back to face Miseria, “What you will tell us, though, is why you thought it was your place to try to claim the dragon.”

  “He’s risen to nobility and has learned to shape his soul. Surely you felt the pillars shake when he shared himself with her. The bond will not be enough for them.”

  Allinor stared at her. “We all know what he is and what he’s done, but we are not creators—no matter the tales we allow to spread. We are stewards, at best… and usurpers, at worst. Some of us pay closer attention to consequences than others. It is the law to which we all are beholden. He is nothing but a fulcrum, but he still has to be positioned correctly. As for the bond, you were the one who thought it would be the best way. I recall you argued long and hard for it.”

  Miseria frowned at them. This was clearly going to be a long day. With a sigh, she closed off her perception, which had been focused on Ileria. The mortals would have to fend for themselves for a while.

  The gods needed to talk, and it seemed that would happen now.

  __________________________

  Cami felt Nico being pulled away from her, yet their connection was stronger than ever. Something had changed inside of her and the world around her seemed different. It was like she was seeing it with new eyes. The edges seemed sharper and the colors brighter. Above all, she had a faint sense of magic that swirled around her.

  Cassandra grasped her hand. “Are you okay, child?”

  Cami blinked and then nodded. “I think so.”

  “Something is different. I can sense your presence almost the same way I can feel Nico there.”

  Cami’s eyes shot wide open. “What?!”

  Cassandra laughed softly. “Oh, don’t worry. It isn’t anything like what you have with him, although I suspect even that may have changed. All of us minions can sense him when he is close. When he isn’t, we can only detect that he’s still alive… it’s not like we have a bond with him.”

  “But now you can sense me, too?”

  “Yes, but it is more like an echo. It’s almost like you are wearing Nico’s clothes and because of that, you smell like him… if that makes any sense.”

  Cami frowned and pursed her lips. “I do feel different.”

  She wiggled her toes. “The curse is gone.” It was like her spine never been damaged. Without waiting for a reaction from the others, she hopped off of the bed. Running to him, she brushed her hand along Nico’s cheek.

  “That is wonderful, child. But is something the matter with Nico? I don’t mean to minimize your healing, but we minions depend upon his continued wellbeing.”

  “He is fine. He’s just in the… never mind. That’s his to share or not to share. But you are right, I do feel different. Not exactly stronger, just… different.”

  Cami searched for a notification. Surely the system had something to say that might explain why she felt different. There it was, buried under a mountain of notifications about how the curse had slowly broken down under the weight of her newly merged soul. Almost every message simply told her about the weakening of the status condition.

  But not this one. This one was something different. Even the color of the notification was odd.

  And so it begins again.

  You have undergone a racial evolution due to partial infusion of a dragon’s soul into your own. Change takes time and the consequences of this monumental action are still being calculated.

  Balance must be preserved.

  Ugh… that wasn’t ominous at all. She was so caught up in it that she read the description to Cassandra before she thought about whether or not it was a good idea.

  The alchemist gasped. “I didn’t even know such a thing was possible. Was that what you were doing? Grafting a piece of his soul onto your own?”

  Cami nodded. “Yes. I still feel like me, except slightly different. Or maybe, I don’t feel different... it’s the world around me that feels different.”

  “Have you checked your status sheet?”

  Without replying, Cami did just that. When she read it, she gasped. What could this possibly mean?

  Name: Camille Westfork

  Height: 5’5” Weight: 120 lbs.

  Race: Demi-goddess, dragon bonded

  Age: 16.9

  Class: Dragon Knight / Elemental Valkyrie

  Level: 13th / 10th

  Crafting Class: Soul Forger

  Level: 6th

  She’d gained two levels in Soul Forger, which she would normally have celebrated as a huge gain, but she couldn’t pull her eyes off of the line for her race.

  _____________

  Lisella stood in front of her uncle, who sat upon his throne with her father standing beside him. Despite being in the throne room, she knew from long experience that when it was just the three of them, her uncle expected their interaction to be more casual. That suited her, because what she had to say would be much easier to say to her uncle than to her King.

  “You have to find them and you have to deal with this immediately. Nico may not have seemed upset, but I tell you he will get his vengeance. And I don’t believe for one moment that he will be content with making it rain, as he likes to call it. From experience, I can bear witness to his willingness to remember both his friends and his foes. We want Forlay to be counted as his friend.”

  Her father said, “We already know who organized the attacks. Several knights and the royal mage have been sent to bring him here. We will get to the bottom of this, one way or—”

  “Begging your forgiveness, father, but there is no one way or another. You must deal with this and you must do so brutally. Nothing less will be acceptable to Nico. He sees the world in very stark lines. If you are not his ally, then you are either his foe or, even worse, his prey.”

  “You paint him as being some sort of monster, dear Lisella,” the King said.

  “Because that is what he is.” She held up a hand. “He is not some unthinking monster—quite the opposite. But he doesn’t think like a human. It took me a long time to realize that, even after I learned what he was. And now, after more research and several discussions with him, I can only thank Miseria that Nicosandumas is the dragon who has made his way into the human world. Other dragons would have burned us all to a crisp or died trying. Nico at least is curious; he wants to learn.”

  Her father waved his hand dismissively. “He’s been very useful to Forlay, and there is no doubt that he is powerful. But certainly your party could take him down, if it became necessary. He isn’t so strong enough to fight all of you.”

  “I would have said you were right a few short months ago. But now, with Cami? I don’t like our odds of beating him. And the scary thing isn’t his current strength, but his growth trajectory. He was weaker than most members of my party only a year ago. Now, I worry how all of us combined would fare against him—and that is after Galbrecht gained a legendary class. If this continues, and I have every reason to believe that it will, then he will soon have enough power to level all of Forlay.”

  “Surely you overestimate him,” her father scoffed.

  “And that is to say nothing of the threats which the incursions represent. The monsters we’ve faced aren’t even the primary threat. Rather, it is the horrors who are driving them. Nico has fought horrors twice and won, but they still represent a terrible dangers. He seems to believe they are the equals of the gods.”

  Her two seniors stared at Lisella, uncertain if she were being serious. They continued to stare for a long moment—until a page stepped into the throne room. “Sire, begging your leave, but the royal mage is here…”

  Before he could finish speaking, the mage beside him was pushed aside and a man well-known to Lisella forced his way into the room. She’d never seen him in armor before, but now he wore chainmail and leather instead of his usual finery.

  “Out of my way,” he shouted at the downed page.

  Royal guards rushed into the room and encircled the errant nobleman, but he seemed unperturbed. “I heard you wanted to see me, Henri. No doubt you want to thank me for sending a message to that overgrown lizard.”

  Long years of training were the only thing that kept Lisella from groaning. Of course, it had to be Baron Thistle. And not only had he just admitted to his crime, he seemed proud of it.”

  Lisella clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to suppress the anger roiling her hut. Her eyes, usually a calm shade of blue, blazed with a fire that mirrored her inner turmoil. She couldn’t see it, but her father’s intense gaze mirrored her own as he stared daggers at the noble before them.

  Baron Thistle, standing before them in his ill-fitting armor, was completely oblivious to the storm he had just stumbled into.

  King Henri remained seated on his throne, his face an unreadable mask. Only a slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his anger. Lisella turned and saw her father’s piercing gaze as he took a step forward, his eyes narrowing at the baron.

  “Baron Thistle,” King Henri’s voice was calm, but she heard the underlying edge to it. “You admit to organizing an assault against the dragon Nicosandumas, who is both a guest and an ally of Forlay?”

  Baron Thistle puffed out his chest, clearly misreading the whole situation. “I do, your majesty. And I did it for the good of Forlay. We cannot allow that creature to dictate terms to us. We are a proud nation, and we bow to no one. I know you had to play nice, given the pressure from the Emperor, but you can thank my patriotism for giving you plausible deniability.”