Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The wilderness was swallowed whole by the pitch blackness of night. Absolute darkness encompassed the world like a fathomless abyss. Not a single star pierced the sky.

A symphony of nocturnal sounds unfolded. The rustling whispers of leaves danced on the wind. Unseen creatures skittered and scurried through the undergrowth, their hurried feet causing twigs to snap. Insects chirped, frogs croaked, owls hooted, and coyotes yipped in the distance.

A frigid wind rattled and howled through the forest, swaying the trees and making their limbs creak and groan. The combined sounds produced something akin to wailing, as if a disembodied voice in the night was crying in lament for what was to come.

The full moon peeked through the dense, swirling curtains of clouds and broke through the stygian night, revealing the snow flurries that silently rained down from above. Faint, shimmering streaks of moonlight shone down on the heavy blankets of snow. The snow-covered ground reflected the moonlight unevenly, illuminating fragments of the landscape, painting a canvas of icy white islands in the sea of blackness. Trees began to cast long, skeletal shadows that stretched and contorted, resembling elongated, grotesque figures reaching out with long claws.

Then, an unnerving silence descended upon the forest.

The chirping of insects ceased abruptly, and the frogs fell silent. Birds and owls perched high upon their branches broke the quiet with high-pitched screeches, followed by the sound of wings frantically flapping, beating a hasty flight. Herds of deer, once grazing peacefully in the grass, bolted as fast as their hooves could carry them. Even predators whimpered and retreated into the dark depths of the woods.

Aside from the keening of the wind, whispering its mournful song through the trees, the only sound that remained was two sets of footsteps crunching through the heavy snow. The siblings trudged on with haste, their rancorous purpose driving them forward to their intended destination.

Thanks to his body’s fur coat, Nokt maintained a steady stride with a stoic expression and easily withstood the biting cold. Rox, however, did not have the same luxury. The chilling gale pierced through the crevices of her frost-encrusted armor and clawed at her neck, causing her to shiver violently. Her gloved hands felt numb, and each nippy gust felt like a thousand icy needles prickling her exposed face. The cold gnawed at her borrowed bones, each raw rush of wind a fresh assault.

She bit back a curse for her lack of foresight. Each icy blast was a painful reminder of her poor judgement.

If only I had brought a cloak, she thought with a heavy sigh.

During their journey, on a few occasions, Nokt, solicitous of his sister's well-being, suggested that they rest or find shelter. Yet, Rox refused to stop for even a moment and kept on pushing forward. She held no regard for this temporary body. If it fell victim to hypothermia or succumbed to frostbite, then so be it, for tonight, the harsh climates were the least of her concerns. She staunchly refused to let anything, not even nature itself, impede their progress. This inferior body may be weak, but she was not.

After two days of relentlessly traveling on foot throughout the merged lands, the siblings came to a halt at the edge of the forest. But this was no ordinary, nameless forest in the middle of nowhere. This one housed the prize they would obtain through blood, the one thing that they came all this way for. They finally arrived at the domain of fallen leaves.

Nokt and Rox assumed a battle stance, their breaths misting in the frigid air. Even after their long journey, they were still capable of fighting. They stomped on the frozen ground in perfect synchronization and waited, scanning the dense tree line for any sign of opposition.

But there was nothing. Not even a sound.

They had anticipated the tribe of fallen leaves to greet their presence with a battalion of dragon sentinels. Surely, they would have heard them and smelled their scent by now, so why weren’t they striking? 

“What are you waiting for? Come out and face us, you golden-leaved cowards!” Rox tauntingly shouted, challenging the ancient protectors.

Yet, their audacious intrusion was met with no resistance. No signs of life stirred within the woods. There were no telltale signs of any dragons. No wings flapping, no chorus of bellowing roars, and no fiery breaths raining down from the sky. After a long moment of watchful silence, they concluded that the night guard of dragons were either slumbering in neglect, dead from the passage of time, or had abandoned their posts. The pair took a brief pause to wipe the sweat from their brows and rest after their arduous trek.

Rox peered into her crystal orb; the swirling depths revealing images that gradually rippled, then sharpened. Nokt leaned in, and the two observed the supernal nature. Surprisingly, the tribe of fallen leaves was nowhere to be seen. Only the current matriarch remained, deep in the heart of the lush forest. The ivory holt of fallen leaves was left completely undefended. Within her sanctum, the Arc dragon slumbered soundly, blissfully oblivious to their arrival. Perched atop her massive head was her crown, a symbol of her stature and the sole reason they had ventured this far. But there was something else that caught their interest: a golden, ovular gemstone embedded within the crown’s extravagant structure.

Due to their newfound understanding that dragon ivory holds an enigmatic connection with the Netherspace, the siblings perceived the small stone as the key to communicating with the rest of the Five. Initially, they had planned to use the crowns to do so, but with the ivory stone, it would be much more convenient and suitable for their sinister intentions.

“What do you think the others are doing right now?” Nokt asked.

Rox snorted derisively and stifled a laugh. “Zarkt and Kur are probably bickering like children, I wouldn’t wonder! Poor Drix. He probably has his hands full with those two fools, trying to keep them from tearing each other apart!”

The two shared a small chuckle as they pictured Zarkt and Kur squabbling. Already, they missed their sarcastic jests and heated banters with each other. Though the Five had their fair share of disputes and fights, they always remained together. And soon, they shall be whole once more. Nothing, not even the most desolate, insufferable purgatory in the universe, could keep them apart, not if they had anything to say about it.

The siblings approached the mouth of the forest and stood in front of what appeared to be a colossal dragon head. Snow draped its weather-beaten visage, and moss clung to the rugged contours. But upon closer inspection, it was just a massive archway, formed by the intertwined roots of two trees shaped to resemble a gaping maw. Two holes were carved out, giving it the appearance of eyes. Sections of the roots were molded into shapes that resembled sharp, jagged teeth. Once, this archway served as the gate of the forest, an echo of the power and ferocity that once guarded this sacred haven. A faint circle of emblems was engraved onto the forehead position, each mark representing the Arc dragons. The names of all the past, revered matriarchs, each appointed to watch over this sacred land, were etched into the intricate root network.  

An abundance of gargantuan ivory-barked trees towered overhead, their boughs laden with verdant, aurum, and crimson leaves. Despite the passage of uncounted years, the sylvan expanse still retained its serenity and breathtaking beauty. Leaves cascaded from the canopies as fast as snowfall. Verily, the forest lived up to its venerable name.

In ages past, this royal homeland stood as an impregnable fortress, shielded by legions of sentinel dragons with absolute loyalty in service to their matriarch. No enemy, regardless of their might or cunning, could ever breach through the kingdom’s formidable defenses. No fire could ever burn it down, and no darkness could ever infect it. But now, the sacred groves lay overgrown and untended. Silent as a crypt, with only the mournful wind whistling through the lofty trees. All that remained was a forlorn remnant of a once glorious house of dragon sovereignty. Perhaps the tribe died out, or the Merge separated them from their precious matriarch. Regardless, she was alone and as vulnerable as a lamb amongst a pack of ravenous wolves, her crown ripe for the taking.

The siblings walked with arrogant gaits upon the hallowed grounds, their very presence a desecration to this sacred place. They followed the winding ivory stone path, choked with weeds and buried beneath shrouds of fallen leaves and branches. Trees felled by lightning storms and violent winds obstructed their passage on multiple occasions, forcing them to use their Shatterspin to clear the path forward.

Their presence was like a plague, spreading to every corner of the autumnal forest. A discordant note of chaos in a symphony of harmony. This once undying land of serene calm, filled with life and imbued with magic, was now slowly fading away. The towering trees, youthful and luxuriant, became twisted, gnarled, and consumed by rot. Their colors dulled, and their ethereal glows faded like dying embers. Leaves fell all at once with shades of death and rained down upon the ground as if the trees exhaled their final breaths of life. The clear-watered lakes and rivers became spoiled and polluted. The abundant, lush flora withered. Even the air, once so crisp and pure, became heavy and dense.

Filled with malignant glee, Nokt and Rox beheld as the land around them slowly festered. They trod onwards with wicked smiles, knowing that their tainting presence was putrefying and befouling the forest. Each step they took sullied the very ground of this place, stripping the beauty it once held. Defiling it until there was nothing but filth, foulness, and impurity. If Kur were present, she would have savored the spectacle of the forest slowly perishing, for she held a perverse delight in marring life and warping it into unclean, hideous things like herself.

No dragon shall ever hatch from an egg here, nor drink from the water, nor bask in the splendor of this land. Tonight, the memory of this place will be gone forever. The indolent matriarchs’ skin shall blister in their glory, as would the others. The fetid order of Arc dragons that were appointed by the Source Dragons to lead these great houses and tribes were, in the end, fraudulent sovereignties, never having rightfully earned their titles nor fought for their positions of leadership. They neglected their lands and wore their ranks with flagrant impudence. For too long, the matriarchs and patriarchs have reveled in the spoils of peace. There was a time when the Five dared not enter the domains of the Arcs. In their youth, the beasts were strong and unchallenged, but now, they were old, weak, and complacent. Oh, how the mighty have fallen from grace.

The crystal ball showed the truth of these unworthy dragons over the centuries, and it filled Nokt and Rox with repugnance. Once, they recognized the power that the leaders held in the olden days. But times have changed. In the uncounted years of their silent suffering, the Five smoldered with hate and yearned to continue their righteous cause. They relentlessly trained for centuries in their dark prison, and ever more their strength and ferocity grew. Though they wept together, screamed with anguish into the empty darkness, and violently pounded against the grey walls, their faith was unbreakable. Their iron will remained hardened, for they knew that the day of their reckoning would inevitably arrive.

Soon, the recreant dragons will witness their royal sanctuaries fall to ruin. They shall writhe in burning flesh and despair; their delusions of sanctimony and the power that they held will be laid bare before them. Then, they shall know what true power is and see the utter futility of their reigns.

The cloying stench of the tribe-mother hit the siblings’ nostrils, a sign that they were drawing near to her. The bloodlust within them surged, their pace quickened down the forest path, and their dark hearts pounded with anticipation. They saw the dragon as merely an obstacle to their goal. Prey to be hunted.

Rox picked up a thick, fallen branch and conjured forth a blue spark that bloomed into a small, hungry flame, licking the wood with its greedy tongues. With insolent indifference, she carelessly threw the torch over her shoulder, with it landing deep in the tinder-dry undergrowth. The starving fire quickly spread, its tendrils consuming grass, branches, and exposed roots and growing with every second. Withered leaves crackled, and pine needles popped as they were ignited. Twigs snapped, and branches broke like brittle bones under the growing heat. The popping of pines and wood intensified, and the acrid, sharp scents of burning wood and scorched earth filled the air. The cold wind whipped the growing flames into a frenzy, creating a roaring inferno that began to devour everything in its path. The fire rose and set ablaze even the tallest of trees. A dense, suffocating blanket of smoke permeated the forest and choked the air.

Flocks of birds flew away. Squirrels abandoned their nests and climbed down the trees. Rodents burrowed underground, seeking refuge from the encroaching flames. A desperate, chaotic exodus of predator and prey unfolded, and a cacophony of bleats and screeches echoed through the smoke-filled air. The wild creatures fled before the fiery tempest that consumed the once verdant domain.

Rox embraced the comforting warmth as the woodland burned before her stinging eyes. Though their task of utmost importance weighed on her thoughts, she couldn’t help but stop and watch the spectacle of destruction before her. She stared, mesmerized by how the cleansing cobalt flames devoured the forest around her and the way the chilling wind made the blue and orange embers dance in the air. The familiar pleasure of bringing ruin and sowing chaos in the lands of order felt just as exhilarating as the numerous times she had done so alongside her siblings. This inferno was but a prelude, a taste of what was to come, further fueling the burning hunger that stirred within her and Nokt. They craved more, and more they shall soon receive.

“The crown awaits us, brother,” Rox purred with predatory delight. A dangerous gleam sparked in her eyes, reflecting the ravenous flames that consumed everything before them. She grinned wolfishly, a silent, savage promise of the dragon blood that would soon stain their hands.

Nokt’s gaze lingered on Rox. The blue glow of the flames revealed the weariness etched on her face. For a moment, she began to nod off before she jerked her head up, reoriented herself, and forced her vessel forward. Her eyes were drooped, watery, and bloodshot, framed by dark circles that spoke of the sleepless nights.  

Beneath her ornate leaden armor, Nokt discerned the rigidness in her body and her slumped posture. Her muscles were no doubt knotted with tension and soreness from the miles of terrain. And just now, he noticed the subtle shift in her gait. Her vessel no longer moved with a graceful, brisk stride but with heavy, teetering steps. If he didn’t know any better, it looked like she was about to keel over at any moment. The strong, natural instinct of protecting his sister emerged.

“Are you sure you’re able to fight?” Nokt asked dubiously.

Rox whipped her head sharply towards him, a flicker of anger ignited in her bloodshot eyes, and a scowl tightened the corners of her chapped lips. “Of course I am! You know better than to ask such foolish questions!” she snapped with offended pride.

They scoured for leagues in the frigid, starless night. Why he chose to question her capabilities now of all times was beyond her. She would not falter now, not when the crown was within their reach.

Nokt’s expression sobered, his brow furrowing with worry. “You should see yourself right now. You look as though you’ve been in a fistfight with Zarkt… and lost,” he remarked, a hint of wry humor seeping through his voice.

“Well, I certainly don’t feel that way. Trust me, I am more than capable of fighting tonight,” Rox assured, giving her brother a confident smirk.

Yet, her words did not ring true to Nokt, who placed a hand on her shoulder and sighed inwardly. Sometimes, he felt like he knew her better than she knew herself.

“I think it would be wise if you rest tonight. I have more than enough strength to complete our task. Leave this to me,” he said gently, his voice tinged with concern for her safety. The dragon was still a formidable foe, and he dared not underestimate it, nor let Rox fight in a weakened state. He couldn’t live with himself if something were to happen to his beloved sister.

But Rox scoffed, shaking her head with stubborn vehemence. She refused to entertain the notion of respite nor partake in it. “Rest? Bah! I will not rest. I assure you, this form will not hold me back, for my power is as potent as ever,” she exclaimed enthusiastically, throwing her arms wide, only for her to nearly lose her footing on a slick of ice that coated the paved path. With a grunt, she recovered her balance before stomping her boot on the frozen ground.

Nokt began to wonder whether he was mistaking his sister’s confidence for recklessness. He knew that stubborn nature intimately, a trait they both shared. However, her conceited ego and pride always amplified it to a massive degree to the point where no one could stop her from finishing anything she started. It was admirable, but at times, incredibly frustrating. Then again, every member of the Five had their quirks and tendencies.

Rox sidled closer, her shoulder bumping roughly into Nokt’s. She tilted her head and gave him a petulant pout. “Do you doubt me that much?” She chided with a hint of playful accusation in her voice.

“Have I ever? I'm only asking purely for your sake,” he replied. As always, he was looking out for her. He didn’t want her to overexert herself beyond her limits, especially not now.

An ordinary person would have succumbed to exhaustion and collapsed to the ground from the bone-chilling cold, the unforgiving environments, and the sheer physical strain of running for vast distances. Rox, however, was anything but ordinary. Though the muscles and bones of her weary vessel ached and pained, mentally, she was as sharp and ready as ever. Her resilience didn’t falter, and her will remained steadfast. She never ceased to impress Nokt, even when she wasn’t consciously trying to.  

“You know, for a moment I thought you wanted the dragon all to yourself. Did you really expect me to sit idly by and watch as you take all the glory?” Rox asked with a touch of amusement.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare!” Nokt chuckled, soothing her wounded ego and trying to diffuse the tension between them. The last thing they needed was to start a frivolous fight with each other, just to prove their points.

“With our combined might, those pathetic beasts will fall before us!” Rox declared with a fierce intensity and a lively grin, brooking no argument.

The weariness from her face receded, now replaced by feverish energy. Finally, she could turn loose the ferocious beast that had lain dormant within her for so long. Though Jordana’s body screamed in protest, it was so facile for Rox to push past the physical limits and overcome the aching soreness, the burning pain, and the fatigue.

But the worry continued to linger in Nokt. His eyes still held that unease and concern she had seen so many times before and knew all too well. He gripped his sister’s hand tightly, perhaps a little too tightly, as if holding her for dear life. This was just like all those centuries ago, when they only had each other to rely on for survival, and they endured the hardships of the cruel, wild world. On the frigid nights, when the biting wind howled and they lacked the luxury of a fire’s warmth, they huddled together, deep in the caves, sharing animal furs and body heat.

As their eyes met, a silent understanding passed through Rox. At times, she found her brother’s overly protective nature to be unnecessary, annoying, and even embarrassing thanks to the other members’ incessant teasing. But she never lost sight of why he did so. They were all they had left. He just didn’t want to lose her, not after everything they’ve been through. No one, not even the rest of the Five will ever understand or love her like he does. They were two parts of a whole, indivisible and immutably loyal.

“You look as if I’m walking towards my death. I’m not. There is no need for fear. I promise you, no harm shall befall me,” Rox said softly to soothe her brother’s nerves, patting his hand with her other one.

Reassured, Nokt slowly nodded, the tension slowly draining from his face. He gave her a small smile and brought a hand up, running his fingers through her hair. Though Rox held an exquisite taste in wiles and wove deceit and treachery to others, one thing that she swore she would never, ever do for as long as she lives is lie to him. He now knew for certain that her undesirable vessel wouldn’t hold her back, and that she still retained her strength. Besides, they always worked best together, and right now, time was of the essence. The sooner they obtained the crown, the better.

“Very well. Now come, let us do what we came here for,” Nokt said, leading the way.

The siblings continued through the burning forest, their boots crunching on the charred, snow-dusted earth. The sinuous path eventually led them to a wide-open glade. Moonlight streamed down, illuminating the sanctuary of vibrant green and life, untouched by the fires. Before them, a tall recess was carved into the face of a rock wall, and from its precipice, a waterfall cascaded down into a crystal-clear pool.

It was then that they heard a low, guttural growl emanating from behind the flowing shower of water. They squinted in the direction of the sound, straining to pierce the darkness behind the waterfall. Then, they saw two orange eyes staring right back at them. Out of the cavern, a gracefully slender, tall cyan dragon emerged, with faint orange scales that glowed in the moonlight. This was Viridia, the current matriarch, guardian of the forest, and a being of immense age and wisdom. She stepped out of her lair and into the plunge pool. Each step made the ground tremble beneath the siblings’ feet.

Reaching the edge of the grassland, the matriarch glared down at the two trespassers with a scowl that twisted her draconic features. Her nostrils flared, puffing out wisps of smoke. Angered by their encroachment on her territory, she unfolded her magnificent teal wings that cast long shadows across the grassland. Then, she unleashed an earsplitting roar as loud as a thunderclap. But the siblings didn’t even flinch, completely unfazed by the beast’s indignation.

“Is that how you dragons greet someone nowadays?” Rox mockingly asked with sardonic amusement, unimpressed by the matriarch’s display of power and intimidation.

Viridia ignored the flippant question. Her scaled head now swerved frantically, and her luminous orange eyes darted in all directions. With her mouth agape, she looked upon in horror at the blazing fires that engulfed her precious forest, and a low cry of anguish escaped her throat. After a moment of silent mourning, she slowly lowered her gaze, her eyes now glowing with a deep, incandescent orange. She looked down at the two warmongers and spoke. Her ethereal voice, naturally soft and pleasant, was filled with sorrow and righteous anger that echoed in the minds of the siblings.

“Why have you brought ruin to my kingdom?! And why have you come here? We dragons and humans are at peace! Explain yourselves!”  

The dragon squinted at Nokt, taking in his dark, sturdy form. She turned her head to Rox, who looked up at the dragon without an ounce of fear, wearing a smug smile, her hands resting on her hips, radiating an aura of pride at the ruin she had created.

Viridia leaned her head forward and growled. “You did this?” she hissed, extending a large claw and pointing directly at Rox.

“Yes, it was I who set this holy ground ablaze!” Rox impudently confessed with a chilling nonchalance.

“You walk amongst the lands in this fair form, but I sense something… other within,” Viridia said, narrowing her eyes and seeing past the façade of flesh that Rox wore.

The dragon stared at the siblings for a long moment, peering into their corrupt souls, and perceived the absolute darkness within them. She took in a deep inhale of the unclean air, the smell of smoke mingled with something far fouler, and she made a noise akin to a gag of disgust. The stench of the ancient, malevolent power that stirred within them hit her nostrils and filled her with dread. It was then that she understood the true nature of these invaders. They held within them the same power as the chaotic defiler from eons ago, who had nearly shattered the world.

“The power of the Dark One resides within you!” Viridia boomed with outrage, her voice gaining in intensity. “I ask again, who are you, and why have you come here? Are you his servants? Instruments, enacting his vengeance upon us?”

“We come on our own accord! And we do not serve him!” Rox sharply retorted, offended by the notion that they were merely servants in the grand scheme of things. Masterless and boundless, the Five were beings of sheer will and indomitable strength, incapable of subservience, for they knelt to no one.

“We are the wolves of chaos, hailing from a time long before your worthless existence, here to claim your crown,” Nokt proudly proclaimed.

Viridia’s eyes widened, understanding dawning within her. The identity of the invaders was now chillingly clear to her.

The two siblings began to circle around the dragon like predators, assessing their prey.

“I see now. I remember the stories Rontu told about you. You are members of the Forbidden Five! The faction of corrupt souls, doomed to destroy and despoil,” Viridia recollected, detested at their past terrible deeds.

“Oh my! I’m flattered that miserable mongrel of a ‘master’ still tells tall tales about us,” Rox said, a mixture of amusement and spite in her voice. “At least we were remembered throughout the ages… even if it was only through bedtime stories. Tell me, do they keep all those little bastard dragon younglings up at night?”

“No, they have no need to fear you. It is as you said. Tall tales of your sins and immoral actions,” Viridia said coldly.

The words hit their mark. Rox glared furiously at the dragon and bared her teeth, mistaking them for her wolf fangs.

“You passed through the divide and escaped the void, but I see your freedom is not enough for you, is it?”

“No, not at all,” Nokt said firmly.

“When will it end? Why must you continue down this dark path?” Viridia questioned, pleading to understand the root of their unending malice.

“We do it because we must. This is how we survive and maintain our power! This is the only way! And soon, the One will deliver to us our glorious ascension, and we shall be made into gods!” Rox exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with fanatical fervor.

“Blasphemy upon blasphemy!” Viridia cried outrageously. “You must end your evil cause. It is not too late to repent.”

Upon hearing the last word, Rox let out an exaggerated gasp and shook Nokt’s broad shoulders with theatrical panic. “Oh, no! Brother, whatever shall we do?! We must repent for our sins, lest we be condemned to the dark abyss!” she exclaimed with mock distress. Upon finishing her sardonic jest, with the highest impudence, the two wolves erupted in a shared, unvirtuous guffaw, for they believed themselves to be far beyond the reach of eternal torment in the afterlife.

The dragon simply puffed out a plume of smoke from her nostrils, huffing with aggravation.

“Repentance is for wrongdoers, and we are not such! The path we chose has always been clear. We’ve come so far, we will not deviate from it,” Nokt declared with unwavering conviction.

Though they believed they held the fate of the world in their hands, their control over all things, including themselves, was merely an illusion. In the deepest darkest pit of the First Realm, the invisible hand of Chaos, in his unholy preordained design, meticulously wove the path with subtle influences, knowing that it would lead him to his inevitable release. And it was here that Viridia perceived this and foresaw their doom.

“Your arrogance, hubris, and lust for power blind you! You cannot see where all of this will lead to. Please, do not conspire with him! I implore you, end this madness before it is too late! If you do, the Source Dragons may yet show mercy upon you.”  

“Madness?!” Nokt spat with a low growl. “What we have done, and will continue to do is anything but madness! No, if anything, the light of chaos has enlightened us!”  

“Mercy is for the weak! Those false gods can’t even save themselves, nor will they save you!” Rox added.

Viridia ignored the taunt, hoping to reach the siblings in some way. “Heed my warning: do not conspire with the Shatter Dragon! For he will whip his forked tongue and whisper false promises to you! The reward you seek from him is not what awaits you. If you free him, he will end you along with everything else.”

“Witless worm! We will not be dissuaded by your lies! We did not come here to bargain with you!” Nokt shouted.

“Your blood boils with vengeance, but not at me. Why have you come for my crown?”

“To finally free our brethren so we may continue our righteous cause!” Rox answered, her voice ringing with zeal.

“Delusional fiends! Your souls are so perverted that you can no longer see right from wrong! Your ‘righteous’ cause is murder on an unfathomable scale! You’ve slaughtered millions of the people of the Wyldness. All this bloodshed, and for what? Will murdering the entire world satisfy you?” Viridia asked, her voice heavy with horror and disgust.

Rox shrugged and shared a look with Nokt, their faces blooming with sinister smiles. They then erupted in loud, unabashed cackles that echoed through the glade.

“Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon, won’t we, brother?” Rox gleefully giggled.

“Indeed, we shall,” Nokt promised with equal passion.

“I will not allow you to take any more innocent lives!” Viridia boomed.

“Please, don’t make me laugh!” Rox scoffed. “Innocence is a lie! History has shown this! Order crumbles, and purity dies.”

“There is always a choice, Rox of the Wyldness. And you have chosen chaos.” Despite only having met the two members of the Five, the matriarch saw a glimmer of what they could have been, had they not been twisted and corrupted.

“Because it’s natural. Inevitable. The whole world thrives on it. Order is merely a lid, kept on top of chaos.”

“Perhaps, but order is also the best we can hope for. And I see that it failed you,” Viridia replied, her gaze softening slightly.

Rox’s eyes blazed with anger and resentment. “Of course it did!” she exclaimed with bitterness, the memories of the past slowly creeping back. “In our time of need, chaos bestowed upon us the strength we needed to survive! You talk of order. Order for whom? And who will enact it? The heroes of this age? Those ninja couldn’t stop us from being freed, nor could they save this girl I here possess! I wouldn’t be surprised if they can’t even save themselves!”

“There are always those who will defend the innocent lives of this world, whether you want to believe it or not.” Viridia insisted with resolute faith. “They don’t have to know any of the people that they’re fighting for, but they do it anyway. They choose to serve something greater than themselves, and they do it out of love and the pure goodness in their hearts; something that you and your siblinghood will never understand!”

“You speak so highly of all these generations of wretches that have fought and died so ‘selflessly’ and ‘heroically’ for others, but they were nothing but weaklings in the end,” Nokt sneered.

“These so-called ‘heroes’ and factions of order aren’t the saviors of this world, but a crutch for humanity to limp by. They unknowingly feed false hopes to all those little people, letting them believe that they can survive. But, of course, we both know that’s not true, is it?” Rox asked in a knowing voice.

“Conflicts and war always lead to death. Such is life. But what you’ve done is inflict the same pain and cruelty that you once felt by others onto the entire world!”

“Are we really? You know nothing about us!” Rox shot back, her eyes narrowed with fury as the memories from ages ago came flooding back. “Can you imagine what it’s like to never even enjoy a single moment of peace or rest? To live with constant vigilance and never let your guard down? To lie awake at night in fear, knowing that at any waking moment, someone or something could just come out of the darkness and end you?!”

“No, I can’t,” Viridia admitted. “Is that who you were once? Is that who you still see yourselves as? Victims of an unforgiving world?”

For a moment, the siblings said nothing.

“We are not victims!” Rox spoke up defensively. “Don’t think for a second that we were once innocent! For there are none!” She cried out, her voice reaching a fever pitch. “Deep inside us all, there is a beast, waiting to be unleashed! When our chains are broken, that is when our eyes are opened, and we finally free ourselves from everything! Yes, that is when we become the architects of our own destiny!”

Viridia saw the rage and malice in their black hearts. But underneath it all, there was pain and fear. The fear of being weak. In their youth, the Five were unloved, ostracized, and miserable. They were never shown kindness or compassion from their people, and the hate festered in them. The world always beat them down so hard until eventually, they broke, and the despair consumed them from within.

Through the gift of chaos, strength was their salvation. That pain, that hate, it took over. They struck back at the ones who rejected, mistreated, and harmed them. Where there was once cold emptiness, there was warmth in the fires of destruction. They weren’t loved or embraced by anyone. Everywhere they went, they were always treated with apathy and cruelty. No one cared for them, so why should they care for anyone else? So, they became strong, hardened, and merciless. They vowed to never be weak again. They knew that weakness only led to pain. Strength was the answer to survival, and they did so by any means necessary.

But somewhere down the road, in their relentless pursuit of power, they became too far gone from who they once were. The lines between survival and tyranny blurred, and they became the very monsters they had once feared. Every trace of goodness in their souls, every flicker of compassion and empathy shattered and faded into oblivion, leaving behind only a hollow echo of the people they might have been.

They could only see what was not there and missed what was right in front of them.

“You’ve allowed your pain to consume you, to twist you into such unclean things! You must let go of your past and end this perpetuating cycle of violence!”

The siblings simply laughed derisively at the dragon. Their past is what molded them. They were tempered in the fires of their suffering and emerged liberated, and unchained. This was meant to happen, and they always held onto their pain as a constant reminder of their former weakness and rise to power.

“You’re so buried in the darkness…”

“Are you afraid of the dark?” Rox taunted.

“It saddens me so to see just how lost you truly are,” Viridia whispered, her voice filled with a profound sense of pity.

“No, we’re exactly where we should be,” Nokt said coldly.

“I see you cannot be reasoned with. You leave me no choice. You’re just animals that lost their souls millennia ago. For the sake of this world and in the name of the Source Dragons, I shall smite you down or die trying!”

Rox cracked her neck before she and Nokt stomped upon the snowy ground. A crimson malice blazed within their eyes, and a fierce joy ignited in them. For a moment, the siblings felt a flicker of respect for the fearless matriarch, who stood with valor against her coming annihilation. Admirable it was to see a weaker foe stand against them instead of fleeing in terror, for they despised cowards and scoundrels.

Rox hummed and licked her lips. “I was hoping you would say that!” she shouted, dark satisfaction coating her voice.

The siblings charged forward and spun with streaks of black and crimson energy surrounding them. Twin waves of Shatterspin flew towards Viridia’s head. But the dragon reacted quickly and took to the skies. A column of fire roaring from her maw like a molten geyser rained down upon the heinous duo. Nokt, unfazed by the scorching heat, effortlessly plowed through the flames with his Shatterspin. Rox, using her magic, caught the flames in her hands and amplified the heat tenfold. The manipulated fire now burned an unnatural blue, and she hurled it back at her foe.

Caught off guard, Viridia’s orange eyes widened in alarm. Twisting in the air with surprising agility for her massive size, she narrowly avoided the brunt of the fiery counterattack. Her orange scales, once gleaming, blackened and flaked off where the blue fire licked, leaving trails of exposed flesh. She swooped down at Rox with extended, razor-sharp claws, each talon capable of tearing through steel. But in the dragon’s haste, the flank was now exposed, and Nokt seized the opportunity with predatory instinct. He launched himself forth at the beast and with a guttural yell, delivered a devastating kick, his boot connecting squarely with her ribs. A visceral crunch resonated through the air like shattering ice that made Rox’s lips curl into a cruel smirk.

The dragon crashed to the ground with a deafening boom that echoed across the burning forest and shook the earth beneath their feet. Dust and splintered wood rained down, mingling with the smell of dragon blood.

Giving the dragon no respite, the siblings fired more waves of Shatterspin. Viridia raised her wings, attempting to deflect the volley of crimson blasts. Scales broke and fell as the dark energy tore through her defenses. With a snarl, the dragon lowered her guard and retaliated with a breath of fire.

Nokt veered left, while Rox went right, attempting to encircle the dragon in a deadly crossfire. They moved with perfect synergy, a deadly dance honed by their countless battles, a testament to their teamwork and trust in each other.

Nokt bolted forward, leapt up, and swung a powerful uppercut at Viridia's jaw with an audible crunch that sounded oh so satisfying to him. Rox flanked the matriarch and struck her massive head with an equally devastating blow. Teeth chipped and shattered, white fragments raining down onto the scorched grass, followed by globs of blood and saliva seeping out of the beast’s maw. A chunk of her snout was visibly disfigured, hanging by shreds of tissue.

With a powerful swipe of her claw and surprising speed, the dragon slammed Nokt down to the ground, pinning him there. The heavy impact and the crushing weight stole the air from his lungs. She lowered her head and readied her fire.

With a surge of magic, Rox ripped a burnt tree from the earth and hurled it at Viridia’s head, the impact knocking off the ivory crown. She glowered at Rox and breathed a torrent of fire. But the beast was met with overpowering Theroxian flames that cut through her breath and deeply scarred her teal face, leaving grotesque black burns.  

Using his Brute Force, Nokt pushed back against the immense weight, lifting the talon that had pinned him down. He then unleashed waves of Shatterspin against the soft underbelly with relentless ferocity, tearing through the thin, vulnerable scales and leaving deep jagged wounds that gushed with blood.

The dragon’s foreclaws connected with Nokt’s crimson glowing fists, trading blow after brutal blow. Each collision created powerful concussive shockwaves in the air. Gathering his strength into a single powerful strike, Nokt's fist slammed into the dragon's wrist. The sickening snap of bones shattering cut through the dragon's furious roars. Her forepaw, once a formidable weapon, buckled grotesquely. Splintered shards of bone erupted through the skin and sprayed with thick gouts of blood. With another strike, the roar became a pained shriek as the mangled limb hung uselessly.

Behind him, Rox summoned a furious onslaught of blue flames and dark lightning upon the matriarch.

The ignited matriarch let out an even louder roar of agony, and with a swift turn, limped towards the waterfall to extinguish herself. She then beat her wings and rose into the sky, sending down another deluge of fire. Rox, channeling her magic, levitated into the air, ascending to the height of the dragon. Raising her arms up, she summoned a barrier of dark energy, protecting her from the incoming blaze. She flew towards the dragon as fast as a speeding bullet, leaving only a trail of crackling red energy in her wake.

Viridia attempted to seize Rox with her other massive foreclaw, but it was too late as she landed a powerful, direct punch in the dragon’s eye. The force of the blow ruptured the eyeball, squirting blood and vitreous fluids out of the socket and rapidly flowing down the matriarch’s face. With a brutal Shatterspin kick, Rox slammed her heel into the forehead of the dragon, sending her crashing to the ground with a bone-jarring thud.

Nokt looked up at Rox, who gracefully descended from the black sky with a prideful smile, like a fallen angel. The matriarch’s labored breaths rattled in her heaving chest. She shook her massive head and groaned in pain while trying to stand back up. Even after sustaining such severe injuries, the dragon refused to yield. There was no retreat and no surrender. With her last ounce of strength, she made her final stand and charged.

The two siblings lunged forward and delivered a synchronized Shatterspin-powered strike at the matriarch’s head. Their combined force produced a sickening crack, leaving behind a wide open skull fracture, revealing the underlying tissues and flesh. There, the beast fell with a final, deafening boom that marked the end of her reign.

They approached the dragon, now slumped against the crimson-stained snow. Blood trickled from her nostrils, each exhale a rattling cough that sprayed more of the vital fluid onto the snow-covered ground. Savage grins formed on their faces as they saw the battle was now over. Blood continued to spurt out of the deep wounds of her gaping head and torn underbelly, permeating into the pristine white. Her orange eyes no longer glowed brightly. Now they were darker and duller, reflecting the life that was rapidly leaving her body. A gutteral cry of defeat tore from her throat, and twin tears flowed down her charred face as she accepted the brutal reality of her failure to stop the siblings from unleashing chaos upon all of creation.

She could have fled, but she stayed and fought with courage until she could no longer. This was devotion to a cause, one that they did not believe in or care for. The dragon had made her choice, and it had cost her dearly. She knew her fate, and yet she still fought.

Finally, after the gelid emptiness of endless time, they had found a worthy adversary, and the exhilaration of battle heated them from within, and spread throughout their bodies like the comforting heat of a bonfire. It even caused them to break a sweat, a sign that the dragon was far from feeble.

“One day, your hubris will be your undoing, and you will be stopped,” Viridia said, her voice now only a faint echo in the minds of the siblings.

“Many have tried and failed,” Nokt retorted with cold amusement.

“You will see,” Viridia insisted, “and in your defeat, you will finally understand that everything you have ever done has been entirely for naught.”

“Neither the realm of the departed nor the void can contain us! We are beyond death and its harbingers! Undefeatable and invincible, now and forevermore!” Rox proudly vaunted with boundless vanity and a wide grin.

“None are beyond death, not even the Five,” Viridia countered, her voice heavy with the burden of ancient wisdom and bitter experience in the matter of mortality. “Your souls will never be at peace. Not in this world or the next.”

“Peace is but an illusion, matriarch. Now, do you have any final words to say before you meet your end?” Nokt asked.

“May the Source Dragons forgive my failure,” Viridia sorrowfully whispered.

In the final, fleeting moments, the siblings shared a long, deep stare with the matriarch. Then, unexpectedly, they saw something spark in her eyes, something that should not have been there, and it made their blood boil.

Hope.

As she drew her last breath, the dragon’s bloodied mouth curled upward, forming a shape akin to a smile. Only one question kept on hammering repeatedly in their minds.

Why?

Before Rox even had the chance to ask, the light completely faded from Viridia’s eyes, and she lay motionless upon the blood-soaked ground.

“It’s a shame that a creature of such strength had to die,” Rox heartlessly mused, her voice barely audible above the roar of the encroaching fire and the rush of rapid water.

In their golden age, the Five captured many miscellaneous animals and dragons from their realm and subjected them to gruesome experiments, spreading the gift of chaos to them with their dark energy and corrupting their souls. Those who could not survive the immense stresses of having their essence imbued with the power of chaos were driven to madness and destroyed. They could have spread the vile seed of corruption to the matriarch and used her in their glorious cause. But of course, it had to end in violence. Then again, it always did.

Viridia chose to stand and fight against them. She clung to her honor and remained devoted to her false gods until her final breath. The siblings understood that iron-clad refusal to relinquish one’s faith no matter what. Though they perceived the sentimental and foolish notions of order and good as false, fabricated illusions, they understood that unwavering commitment, for they knew it all too well, intimately and painfully.

In the Five’s defeat, when the dragon masters, in their misplaced magnanimity, offered them a chance at redemption, they spat upon the offer and instead chose to remain loyal to their evil cause. Demented in their hubris, they hatefully cursed and condemned their victors to eternal torment in the hereafter before their grim fate was sealed.

But in the heat of battle, never once did the siblings ever sense a single trace of anger or hate from the matriarch. They could not fathom why the tribe-mother didn’t harbor the same rage that they felt so long ago. Instead, she fought only with love and compassion for the entirety of humanity. This world is so cruel and cold, the people, equally so. Why fight and care for others when they don’t reciprocate the same feelings?

And then, there was that hope. That infuriating, inexplicable hope that they saw in her eyes before her passing. The siblings couldn’t rid that singular, final moment from their minds. Right now, they should be rejoicing, howling up in the sky with triumphant laughter in the annexing of the crown. But they weren’t. They couldn’t find it in themselves to bask in their victory just yet. For somewhere deep down, they harbored a brief, fleeting twinge of worry that the matriarch was right about them. That there would always be those who stood up to them. That one day, they would be defeated. Was that it? Did she foresee their end? Why else would she show hope in the face of death?

But it mattered not. There was no need to dwell on such unnecessary thoughts of anxiety. They laughed in the face of all forms of opposition, whether it be an idea, a whispered doubt, or an entire army dispatched by a slothful ruler. The matriarch should have fled, but instead died for nothing but a cause that was fabricated by the false gods. Her hope was foolish, and soon, every single trace of it will be extinguished from the face of the planet.

The world may have evolved and changed radically over the centuries in ways they could scarcely comprehend, but they knew for certain that the fundamental nature of all living things remained unchanged. Villages blossomed into sprawling cities and crude wood houses had been replaced by towering structures of brick and stone. Where there was once magic, used for communication through seeing stones or fireworks conjured to entertain the children at night, there now existed technology that superseded the marvels of antiquity.

But no matter how much time has elapsed, no matter how advanced civilization became, all of humanity was simply cattle, a feeble herd of meritless existence, blindly waiting for the inevitable day of conquest and slaughter.

Through the shadows of the Five, their chaos will enlighten all of creation. No longer will the devout masses idolize and worship the false divinity of the Source Dragons. All shall serve or fall beneath the crushing might of their absolute power. There were only the strong and the weak. Only predator and prey. The childish notions of good, evil, light, and dark were all just contrived, intellectual chains designed to control others, to placate their natural, primal feelings. But on that fateful day, when the Five embraced chaos, they shed those shackles and took their first steps towards true power and freedom. By dedicating themselves to strength, they cemented their place in history. And right now, they were working towards making history. Soon, fear and dread will be brought upon all, and they shall feel such pain as that set upon the Five.

“Well done! You fought well!” Nokt praised, giving his sister a pat on the back.

“So did you, as usual. Oh, that felt truly wonderful!” Rox sighed contently.

They made their way to the crown and pried off the golden ivory stone.

The siblings absolutely refused to carry the crown on foot all the way to the Monastery of Gates. It would take days, perhaps even weeks to travel there. Fortunately for them, there was no need to make such a long, grueling journey. Through the power of the forbidden magics, Rox used the properties held within the matriarch’s blood and harnessed its energies to create a Theroxian portal, granting them instant transit to their destination. After dragging the crown through the portal and using their magic to fuse it up onto the tall, spacious ceiling, they used the Wyldness gate to lead them closer to their next objective: the Northern Spiral.

While making their way there, they decided to bring their good tidings to the rest of the Five, suspecting that as of late, their spirits were downcast. 

Chapter Text

In the void of infinite nothingness, three figures, draped in tattered grey cloaks, festered in a miasma of despair and stolen futures. Their one chance of freedom was gone. All that lay ahead before them was perpetual nihility and the bleak, ceaseless monotony of their prison. Or so their heavy-laden hearts believed.

The three members of the Five were forced to grapple with the stark, unforgiving reality that they would continue to spend their endless days here in the desolate confines. In their draught of profound sorrow, Zarkt and Kur turned on each other and engaged in a pathetic ballet of blame. Their pent-up frustrations erupted into explosive bursts of accusations and insults, accompanied by a flurry of punches and jabs that lasted for hours.

Drix, the bastion of levelheadedness, maintained his sanity in this difficult time. He willingly detached himself from their tempestuous quarrel. Unlike them, he remained afloat on the fragile raft of reason, refusing to let his squall of emotions drown his judgment. To cope with his growing distress, he retained his steely demeanor and distanced himself emotionally. He had no desire to rely on Zarkt and Kur, nor did he feel compelled to help them either. Their burdens were their own, and he didn’t want to share them. All that mattered to him was the mission. He remained focused solely on the essentials and would not let himself get distracted by their emotional trivialities.   

Kur, too, had a habit of compartmentalizing. A way of escaping the crushing weight of her imprisonment. Sometimes she fell into a deep slumber for such a long, indefinite period that the siblings sometimes feared she had passed away. They violently shook her, and she woke up disorented and vexed. Often, she sought refuge in solitude, wandering aimlessly through the desolate expanse of the void, or shut herslf down mentally, where she blankly stared into the blackness. However, it never lasted long, thanks to Zarkt’s persistent, frustrating clashes and conflicts with her. Today was no exception, and she retaliated with a ferocious temper, albeit in a more subdued manner.

Behind the Five’s malice, rage, and hate, there was only… pain. For eons, it remained in them, and they walled themselves off from each other, causing their relationships to become unhealthy and unstable. They didn’t know how to get around it. But the answer was really in front of them this entire time. They were just so lost in the labyrinth of their suffering, that they were so blind to the simple solution that lay before them, and they couldn’t see it because they were so far gone. Perhaps deep down, they still held a level of care for each other.

The Five may address themselves as siblings, but there were many times when they didn’t treat each other as such, and their actions betrayed their bond. They inflicted hurt and dealt blows when they should have shown love. They were harsh when they should have been tender. Where there should have been comfort, there was only a chilling detachment. Simply put, the group of elemental masters were one dysfunctional family.

While Kur and Zarkt continued their futile, cyclical wrangling, Drix knelt alone in solemn solitude before the grey stone throne, a monument to their lost glory. Upon its cold surface lay Rox’s uninhabited body. With his eyes squeezed shut, he clasped her paw, a gesture of comfort extended more to himself than to the vacant shell before him. In his stifling gloominess, he remained calm and steady. He focused only on his sensible thoughts and tried to hold onto the possibility that Nokt and Rox would find the key to their cell and release them.

To be condemned to an eternity of imprisonment was torment beyond measure, an agonizing, gradual erosion of their souls. But to have no assurance of their liberation cut a wound in him far deeper than any blade could inflict. Of course, the feeling was mutual with Kur and Zarkt, though right now, they were expressing it in their own destructive ways. After ages upon ages of dreary waiting, the day finally arrived when they had a chance of escape, only for their freedom to be snatched away in a heartbeat. Ever since the portal closed on them, desolation and despondency flooded their every waking moment.

Physically, Zarkt and Kur remained as formidable as ever. Thanks to their immortality provided by the void, their bodies remained unaffected by the passage of time. Mentally, however, they felt so weak and vulnerable. They hated this bundle of strong, unwelcome emotions that they knew from lifetimes ago, before their ascent to greatness. Their anguish became tenfold, amplified by the tantalizing glimpse of what they had lost. In these dismal hours, they reacted in the only way they knew how and lashed out at each other in a desperate attempt to cope with their profound loss. Or at least this is what Drix surmised. As of right now, he could mainly hear Zarkt, causing a commotion and fueling the fire of the conflict.

Though Drix wrestled against the viper of envy that coiled within his heart, he couldn’t quell the selfish desire. He wished that it was he who had passed through the portal instead of Nokt. But with Nokt being the co-leader, Drix dared not voice such a request out of respect and a sliver of fear. Ultimately, for him, it had been a choice between Nokt’s raw strength and Rox’s unparalleled intellect. Before the ritual began, he entertained the possibility that trouble may abound, so he made the most logical decision and chose Nokt, seeing that his unrivaled strength could cut through whatever enemies may potentially try to thwart the Five’s release. While Rox and Zarkt had nominated themselves as the ones to be freed, Drix and Kur’s votes decided that Nokt should be the one to go first.

Drix yearned to be there in the real world, free to fly in the sky, to bask in the warmth of the sun, and simply behold its radiant glow. He thought of the vibrant colors of the Wyldness, the lush green of the forests, and the brilliant blue of the sky, a stark contrast to the dreary, monotonous grey of the Netherspace. But then, of course, it would come at the cost of immortality, something he tried to make the best out of despite the heavy toll the void took on his mind. He had to wonder if an eternal life of emptiness was better than a fleeting life of chaos and conquest.

“If only you could whisper the sun’s warmth to me,” he murmured forlornly to Rox’s soulless body. He imagined her responding with a witty retort or a playful jab at his rare display of sentimentality, but all that met him was silence.

Here, there was only infinite, suffocating darkness and a complete vacuum of emptiness that stretched everywhere. Over the umpteen centuries, the absence of light became a twisted normalcy to the Five. The void brought them face to face with what was truly important, and it forced them to abandon all practical considerations and mundane concerns. The Five’s behavior became completely and erratically different. The situations, the issues, the ideas, and the crises that they faced became a different order. No longer were they physical or logical, but existential and psychological.

Netherspace was neither inherently good nor evil. It was not hostile or welcoming, but simply indifferent. An apathetic, imperturbable island adrift in the universe, where the voyage of their travel remained perpetually static. It kept them alive, but they remained trapped in a stasis of existence. The void was so inconceivably cruel to them in its indifference. They could do absolutely nothing but wait and stare into the darkness as their sanity slowly unraveled with each passing moment. The loneliness, the separation, the lack of any practical distraction, and the inability to act or do anything conspired to drive home just how precious and vital life was in the mortal plane. This solitary confinement inflicted upon their minds the cruelest punishment, infinitely and unimaginably more agonizing than any physical pain or torture ever conceived.

The Five were all they had left. Sadly, they lacked the capacity to properly offer any forms of solace, support, or love to one another in their times of distress and suffering. The only thing that came even close to a semblance of comfort was the physical gesture of huddling together for warmth. But even that was out of necessity for themselves, nothing more. In their shared exile, they were always so close, yet so far away at the same time. They reached out for a connection they could never quite grasp. The silence screamed between them all, punctuated by an occasional sob, a desperate whisper, or crazed laughter that echoed through the void.

There was mostly anger and hate, and they poured it out at each other in a torrent of shouts and strikes. At least pain was a distraction. It gave them a reaction that jolted them and placed all their attention in the present moment. Pain was a familiar sting they felt while waging war, a sensation that fueled their excitement in the thrill of battle, and a reminder of the path they chose. But here, there was a complete absence of everything that they valued, their revered tenet, their savage way of life, and their very purpose.

The Five earned their sword and shield in life and were honed into weapons of chaos and destruction. It is the killing that gives them purpose. To accomplish nothing, to lack any meaning, is a state of purposeless existence, and the void tried everything to crush their spirits and bring meaninglessness to them. A living being without purpose is nothing, and they refused to be so. They remained forever driven on their quest of chaos and violence, and the prospect of their freedom never left their minds.

In their moments of utter despair, when the Five could no longer stand being awake, they surrendered to the oblivion of sleep. They became lost, far away from the torment of emptiness and drifted into a sea of dreams, filled with such painful, aching desires of what they lost and the landscapes of the world they had forgotten. Sometimes, they slept for extremely long periods. Whether it be weeks, months, or perhaps even years was unknown, for their perception of time was gone. In the void, time became meaningless to them.

Within their dreams, they relived magnificent battles and extraordinary triumphs from their golden age. They beheld brutal fantasies of fulfilling their retribution against the dragon masters and bringing down their deluge of chaos upon the world. Yet, there were also moments of serene beauty when their dreams showed them the sun, the trees, and the splendor of the earth. They could hear the wind blowing, the psithurism of leaves, the patter of rain, and the wildlife of the Wyldness. But sooner or later, the cruel cycle always resumed. When their desired dreams faded and they awoke, their hearts wrenched with pangs of sadness and longing, a brutal reminder that the beauty they saw was not real.   

Drix leaned his head on the stone armrest and closed his eyes. Hopefully, sleep would take him soon, where he could just submerge himself in his blissful dreams so he would no longer hear Zarkt and Kur’s heated arguments. He wanted to sleep now so he could numb himself from the crushing blow of the ritual ending in failure and forget that he was still stuck here in the void. To detach himself from the whirlwind of foreign, unwelcome emotions weighing down on his heart and rid himself of the quiet doubts that gnawed at him. But most of all, he wanted to banish this gradually creeping fear that threatened to engulf him entirely, the terrifying suspicion that perhaps they truly were trapped forever in this desolate abyss.

The worrying sense of their uncertain future continued to chew away at him. In the deepest recesses of his mind, anxious thoughts and questions began to slowly emerge. Every second, they became louder, and more intrusive, to the point where he could start to hear an inner voice speaking aloud to him. This persistent, internal voice that spoke to him over the centuries, as well as to the others, forced them to endure such unwanted thoughts and vivid images, filled with their deepest, darkest fears, doubts, and insecurities. The experience was a soul rendering torment that lasted for hours on end. Perhaps even days. It threatened to drown them in a bottomless ocean of anguish. But in the end, they always emerged with an even stronger will.

What if there is no other way out? What then? What if they abandoned us? Worse yet, what if something has happened to them?

Drix gripped the wolf’s paw tighter in a physical effort to silence the pessimistic voice. He scolded himself for even considering the disgraceful notion of Nokt and Rox forsaking the Five, for they were soldiers, and they made a solemn vow to never leave anyone behind. No, they could not fail. He would not allow his mind to linger on such dark thoughts or let himself be emotionally compromised like how Zarkt and Kur were currently.

Physically, he may be the weakest of the Five, but mentally, he remained resilient and resolute. Strengths and weaknesses were interconnected, and the Five all held their own specialties of expertise. With Drix, he never dwelled on his weakness of being the least physically able. Instead, he leaned into his advantage of speed. He held such a mastery in flight and misdirection; his calculated movements always caught his foes completely off guard. From time to time, his perceived weakness is what made his opponents and even the rest of the Five underestimate him. Their miscalculation was due to their emotional ties, one that he always readily exploited in combat. He was not just another little insignificant insect to be crushed under a boot, and the stings of his swarms that he commanded ensured that his enemies remembered this fact.

There was no hope, reliance, belief, or faith involved in the case of their freedom. Drix’s pragmatic thoughts told him that things will eventually come to fruition. Together, Nokt and Rox served as an unstoppable and inseparable force. He knew with complete certainty that their release was inevitable. They will open the portal, and their mission will finally continue. All he had to do was simply have patience and wait for the day to come.  

Drix now listened only to the rhythmic, soft breathing emanating from Rox’s body and let it lull him. His mind quieted, and he felt rather relaxed now. The voices of his siblings faded away before being completely drowned out. Sleep claimed him, and he was pulled into a labyrinth of a memory he thought long dead. His escape from reality only led him to the ghost of a life he left behind.

He found himself walking on a linear, tree-lined pathway through a lush forest. The ethereal golden sun rays pierced through the dense canopy. For a moment, the sunshine almost felt real to him. Every bend in the trail, every weathered stone and tree was just as he remembered all those years ago. The monsoon breeze carried the sweet, tangy scent of honey, a melancholic reminder of a peaceful time long before he treaded down the path of chaos.

The trail led to an archway formed by two thick, tall trees, a landmark that signaled the entrance to the tribe’s domain that lay up ahead. Before him loomed a steep, ovular wall, encircling the settlement for miles. Past the walls were a multitude of huts, hewn from the very beeswax the tribe produced and the timber they harvested. They were all in the formation of a nest of hexagonal structures, interwoven together, resembling a vast honeycombed expanse. At the heart of the hive was the queen’s chamber that towered over the others. Beyond the village was a sprawling meadow filled with rows of orchards overflowing with fruits, flourishing crops, and fields bursting with abnormally large flowers.

Drix stood at the entrance and took in the sight of the old village. Overwhelming surrealness flooded him, followed by a raging storm of conflicting emotions. He had forgotten the captivating beauty of this land, and the way it gave him this instinctive sense of comfort and profound security. But he steeled himself against its allure and remembered the harsh truth that lay beneath the idyllic surface. This entire place, the very ideas that were once instilled in him, and the life he once lived, was nothing more than oblivion, masquerading in the form of peace.

He saw the local tribe of insects. Their bright, beaming faces radiated a joy that felt alien and repulsive to him. Yet, he now felt this warmth that slowly built up and threatened to melt the icy fortress he had built around his heart. A smile even threatened to break loose on his lips. But he forced his gaze away and continued to walk. He promised himself a long time ago to never let himself become emotionally attached again. Not to anyone. As to the rest of the Five, his feelings towards them remained a murky, turbulent sea. Was it love? Care? Concern? He remained allied with them out of necessity. They shared a common goal, understood each other, and held the power of chaos within them. They were all he had, and they all equally relied on each other.

The village was a haven of tranquility, and the very air held this thick, palpable love that was so potent it could almost be tasted. The natives toiled with vigor, reinforced the protective wall, constructed new homes, foraged for nectar to produce honey, and diligently pollinated the crops that sustained their community. Children ran in the streets, flew in the sky, and chased each other through the forest. Some danced together and sang with joy, while others played in the goldenrod gardens.

The tribe always possessed this pure, unconditional love and kindness that the world didn’t deserve. They burned so brightly with undying passion and devotion. If only the rest of the world could have been created the same way, filled with boundless care and selfless compassion. Perhaps then, things would have been different.

Driven by their innate empathy, some insects chose to leave the village and fight alongside the revolutionary tribes against the barbaric, greedy tribes who sought to claim other lands of the Wyldness as their own. They helped reclaim the lands that had been stolen, conquered, and colonized. Their cause was noble and just, and they freed those from tyranny and protected the innocent denizens. They chose to fight willingly, and never once did they ask for any reward or payment. There even came a time when they almost made Drix believe in it too. But by then, it was already too late. 

Hidden amidst the dappled shadows of the forest, Drix watched with a wistful stare as a group of younglings frolicked in the golden fields. To see children move with a happy-go-lucky skip and hear such exuberant laughter with a love for life was so foreign to him. Witnessing such unadulterated happiness stirred something deep within him. It reminded him of the life he had left behind and the innocence he had willingly surrendered. Something felt wrong. Every moment he spent here slowly tore him apart from the inside. He wanted to leave now and wake up, but he couldn’t find it in himself to. Why did these memories remain when he burned his past to ashes? Why couldn’t he just let go of this place and these people?

For some strange, uncountable reason, the thought snuck into his mind about joining in on the children’s merriments and skylarking. But he quickly banished it, branding it as just silly, preposterous thoughts that he couldn’t indulge in. He hardened his heart and buried the aching feeling down deep within the crypt of his shattered soul. Instead of giving him relief, it only brought him this lingering hurt he couldn’t make sense of. Perhaps, this is how his life could have turned out. Just him, running forever in the fields, happy, and oblivious to the chaos of the world.

Before he could contemplate any further, a loud, deep yell echoed through the void, causing the dream to fade away and wrenching him from his repose.

Drix let out a long, vexed sigh and listened as the quarrel between Zarkt and Kur intensified by the second. Right now, they shouldn’t be at each other’s throats. In their darkest hour, the three of them should be unified, but instead, they were divided. He had wallowed in silent misery for far too long. With his reassuring presence absent, Kur and Zarkt were left to themselves, and all they could do to process the harsh reality was lash out in rage and vent their anger at each other.

Drix could almost hear Nokt and Rox’s disappointed voices, berating him for failing to uphold his responsibility to his siblings. The two wolves would never condone such infighting, unless they themselves were in the midst of a conflict.

Each member was just as vital as the next. They were all akin to organs to make a body function and thrive. Their different talents and gifts were equally valuable and essential to the collective whole. Like how a hand cannot function without an arm, the members of the Five remained together. No external force could ever separate them. However, there were times when their siblinghood threatened to potentially crumble from within, and when that happened, Drix was always the one to serve as the remedy.   

How ironic that in this distressing time, Drix held the most maturity compared to his comrades, yet he was the youngest of the Five. Sitting idly and doing nothing would only exacerbate Zarkt and Kur’s misery and further allow their rage and despair to rot them from the inside out. He was the lighthouse in the storm, and it was up to him to guide them back to calmer waters.

But this wasn’t driven by care. Or at least, that’s what he always told himself. There were so many opportunities when he could have offered them words of comfort and encouraged them, just like how a real brother should. But he didn’t know how. They were like toys that needed repair, a task he repeatedly performed with detached efficiency. This act of reunification that he did so many times before was just a performance. He ended their conflict and brought the team’s focus back together, nothing else. He didn’t help them with their burdens, their troubles, or their pain. There was no connection, no realness, and no emotions involved. But he could never understand why, and a part of him wished to.

Deep down, this was selfishness. He came to accept that he enjoyed holding this veiled authority over Zarkt and Kur whenever those two fools began acting up. It served as this twisted need to remind himself that he still held power, despite being the weakest member. Without him, the Five would split apart. It gratified him, knowing that they depended on him and that he was the sole reason for keeping the team together.

Yet, beyond all that, he still wanted more. He wanted that real connection that Nokt and Rox had with each other. But he didn’t know how to attain it. It always eluded him. If only all the members of the Five held that intimate closeness with one another. Their hate, their rage, it only brought more hurt. Drix understood that rage. It’s one of the reasons their paths crossed together and their formation in the first place. But it was here that he saw it could also have the potential to split them apart, permanently.

A subtle shift occurred within Drix. He felt a crack form in his heart, spreading through the hardened layers of his detachment. Regret blossomed for failing to offer solace to his brethren and neglecting them when they needed him most. It grew more and more by the second and he could no longer ignore the burgeoning urge to stop their dispute. It was his responsibility to be there for them. Always. But this time, he didn’t do it out of necessity, but of genuine concern.

Drix cast one last lingering look at Rox’s unmoving form. “Please, release us from this place,” he whispered yearnfully. He then rose to his feet and hurriedly followed the sound of his siblings’ acrimonious dispute.

In another section of the Netherspace, Zarkt was currently in a furious outburst. For hours, he berated Kur for nominating Nokt as the first member to escape the void. His emotions erupted like a long-dormant volcano, spewing forth with molten anger, and his voice was edged with a red-hot ire that echoed through the silent void. Out of the Five, Zarkt was the most easily provoked and emotional. His brethren took caution when speaking to him, choosing their words wisely and being polite, or as polite as they could be. He was always quite appalling when angry,

But the old jackal remained unmoved as Zarkt continued his verbal assault. She simply sat on her knees in silence, and with her dark, unblinking eyes, she stared down into the deep, dark pits. Compared to her brash brother, Kur usually exuded a rather calm, icy-cold demeanor. She always spoke with this slow, stridulous, composed voice, rarely ever raising it, and her carefully chosen words spoke louder than the deafening yells that were currently assaulting her eardrums. Zarkt was like a raging fire, impulsive and furious. Kur, however, was a chilling wisp of wind. A remote, lifeless, empty shell with such dull, sunken eyes, reflecting the hollowness within her. Where there was a shout, there was a whisper. Where there was anger, there was dispassion. In a way, they were opposites. Perhaps that’s why there was always animosity and conflict between them.

As of right now, Kur held an equally rare, formidable temper simmering beneath her placid surface, but she chose to express it with a rather quiet aggression through her cutting, meticulous words. Instead of shouting and stampeding around like her clamorous comrade, she simply gave him an unsettling smile that stretched across her thin lips, revealing malformed, corroded teeth. At the moment, she found some twisted amusement in watching Zarkt’s temper tantrum.

“I’m telling you for the last time!” Zarkt thundered, his face contorting with incandescent rage. Spittle flew from his lips as he shouted, landing on Kur’s face. “You should not have favored Nokt! Decayed, moronic jackal!”

Kur dabbed her face with the sleeve of her cloak and finally spoke in a cold, harsh whisper that scraped against Zarkt’s raw rage. “Blundering bespawler. Quiet yourself. You are so bereft of wit that you cannot comprehend the nature of your own words,” she riposted indignantly in a low rasp that sounded like the rustling of dry bones. Her voice matched her decaying appearance and her death-like presence.

“Old, worthless, putrefying dotard!” Zarkt roared, his face now mere inches from Kur’s, his expression filled with contempt at his sister’s folly, perceiving her choice as a personal betrayal. “Your Decay has wrought havoc upon your mind! Clearly, you are feeble and demented!” Zarkt belittled, his hands gesturing wildly, emphasizing each insult.

Kur simply shook her head at him. “Doltish, witless damfool. If anyone is becoming demented, it’s you,” she gruffly retaliated.

Zarkt’s red eyes narrowed to slits, boring into Kur’s with a newfound intensity. “Why, in the name of chaos did you deem Nokt worthy of liberation before me?! It should have been I who escaped!”

“In your dreams, perhaps,” Kur sneered derisively, a subtle curl of her lips enforcing the depth of her disdain. “Nokt was clearly the superior choice. No doubt he would have dispatched those interlopers and cast away the sacrifices. But it seems that was not meant to be.”

Zarkt began to pace back and forth with restless energy and throw his hands up in the air, inflamed like a stoked furnace. “I still say I should have gone first! Had I, we would all have returned to the mortal plane! You chose poorly! But I suppose that’s to be expected, thanks to your rotted brain!”

“I may be older than you, but at least I’m thinking much more clearly than you. Then again, you’ve always held the clarity of a lifeless husk,” Kur hurled back. “And I chose rightly. Don’t blame our continued imprisonment on me. Lay it on the enemy.”

“The enemy is nothing but fodder for us to rip and tear their bones and blood! And I could have done so! It was I who should have been freed, but no! It’s always Nokt who goes first!” Zarkt roared, now slamming a fist repeatedly into a nearby stone wall, leaving a spiderweb of cracks.

“Because we all hold him in the highest esteem. He knows what’s best for us. However, I cannot say the same for you. Tell me, what feats of valor do you imagine you could have accomplished that lie beyond Nokt’s grasp? Did you intend to berate the enemy into submission with your blithering, fat mouth?” she derided and laughed condescendingly, producing this grating sound akin to the cawing of a crow.

“Hold your tongue before I rip it out! I would have led us to our liberation! And Nokt failed to do this!” Zarkt shakily asserted, puffing out his chest, picturing himself as the vanquisher of their foes and the architect of their return.

Kur scoffed and rolled her eyes. “So, says you. If he couldn’t cast the sacrifices, then no one could. Are you suggesting that he is weaker than you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow in mocking disbelief.

“Maybe I am! I could have destroyed those masked oppressors! In fact, I could have done so with my bare hands!” Zarkt boasted, clenching his fists and imagining the satisfying crunch of bones beneath his grip.

“Ignoramus,” Kur sighed wearily, the weight of Zarkt’s folly pressing heavily upon her. “As usual, you are so full of yourself. I think the darkness of this place has blinded your judgement. Should you tumble into one of those pits again, you better not expect me to help you out.”

Kur then sat up, turned her back on her brother, and began to make her way back to the throne room while muttering curses under her breath. But Zarkt, ever the thorn in Kur’s side, refused to let it end there. With a sharp tug, he seized the edge of Kur’s cloak, violently dragging her back into the chamber, nearly causing the jackal to stumble into one of the dark pits.

“I am not blind nor clumsy! And because of you, we are confined to rot here for the rest of eternity!” Zarkt furiously upbraided.

Kur shoved Zarkt away before letting out a rough, croaking laugh with a snide edge. “I very much doubt Drix sees it this way. Perhaps I should bring him here so he may discipline you with a lesson of respect. Some venom might clear your clogged mind.”

“I should wring your neck and squeeze the breath from your lungs! Perhaps then, you will finally admit your foolishness!” Zarkt shouted, his hands twitching and clenching with the urge to strike.

“Try it, meathead,” Kur dared, a mocking smile forming on her deformed lips and her reddish-orange eyes glinting with sardonic amusement. The Five always knew what names to call each other to push their buttons, and in this instance, Kur took a rather cruel, perverse pleasure in doing so.

Zarkt’s face flushed crimson in growing anger. “You cur!  Do not call me that!”

“Oh, did I say meathead?” Kur feigned contrition, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Forgive me. I meant to say basket case,” she said, pointing at the large roningassa in emphasis. How Zarkt could live and see with his large accessory on all the time was beyond her.

“If you call me one more name…” Zarkt growled, taking a step closer, his large shadow looming over the jackal.

Kur looked up, her narrowed eyes glinting with defiance and anger, meeting Zarkt’s intense glare. “Or what? Are you going to place your misfortune upon me? We’ve already had enough of that for one day, and we don’t need any more, especially coming from you,” she caustically remarked.

Zarkt’s face darkened, the lines around his eyes deepened, and a muscle spasmodically twitched in his jaw, betraying the effort to control his mounting rage. “Don’t you dare insinuate that this predicament is somehow my fault!” he roared, his fury barely contained now.

“You certainly don’t contribute to anything, unless inducing deafness counts,” Kur said with biting sarcasm.

“I’m surprised you’re not already deaf, considering your body is half dead!” Zarkt angrily shot back.

“We’ll see who’s half dead soon,” Kur grumbled under her breath. “You know, sometimes I wish I were deaf so I would no longer have to hear you. Bloody chaos, how I despise your voice.”

“You’ve told me this a thousand times already!”

“And I’m likely to utter it another thousand times.”

“I loathe you, your foul odor, and your breath of death!” Zarkt snarled with cruel satisfaction and even more animosity.  

“Chaos above. You and your flapping maw. You ruin everything. Your very words conjure misfortune. I wish Rox permanently silenced your tongue before she departed.”

“Well, she’s not here, and we’re stuck here! And whose fault is that?!” Zarkt shot back, jabbing at Kur’s chest.

“Well, it’s not mine. With all your yelling of wanton and murder, I wouldn’t be surprised if your voice goes out soon. And I hope it does.”

“You just don’t want to admit it! Face it, Kur! We are trapped here forever because you chose Nokt! I told you to nominate me, but you did not listen! Why am I not surprised? You never listen! He failed us, as did Rox! I wager that she departed solely for her own sake!”

Kur’s eyes widened in disbelief, followed by a sudden burning glare, and her pale, bony hands were now clenched into fists. “They have never failed us. How dare you utter such disrespectful words to the very wolves who took you in.”

“I can talk however I please! We shall rot here to our endless days! This is it! They abandoned us, and now the Five are no more! I think we all know exactly whose fault that is!” he bitterly accused, his eyes burning daggers into Kur.

“Recant your words this instant,” Kur hissed, each syllable measured and laced with barely suppressed rage. She took a step forward, her body tensing up and raising her head, ready to strike like a coiled serpent. "Do it right now, or else."

“Bite me, you spineless little mutt!” Zarkt spat, taking another step forward.

Never did Zarkt expect Kur to take his words quite literally. Upon hearing the insult, Kur, in white-hot rage, shot forward and tackled Zarkt to the stone floor. After a brief struggle, the jackal sank her teeth into his neck.

Zarkt’s hands scrambled for purchase on Kur’s leathery flesh and clawed at her mummified visage before headbutting her and pushing her off.

Kur lay on the ground and groaned in pain, holding her throbbing head.

“Wretched mongrel!” Zarkt shouted, wiping the trickle of blood from his neck.

“Blustering, brainless boor,” Kur countered as she slowly rose to her feet.

“You better flee to Drix before I make you bawl like the blubbering buffoon that you are in your sleep!”

Kur remained unmoved and continued to glower at Zarkt. Her deformed, crooked lips opened, and she bared her rotted bloodied teeth. Whenever these two fought, they never yielded to each other. There even came times when their disagreements and squabbles escalated into battles to the death, much to the disapproval and annoyance of the others.

“Oh, did I strike a nerve?” Zarkt mocked, giving the jackal an infuriating smirk.

“For too long have I endured your insolence!” Kur exclaimed, her voice rising slightly.

Zarkt outstretched his arms in a mocking invitation. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come on, give me your best sh—”

Zarkt couldn’t even finish his sentence, as Kur swiftly struck him in the jaw with a lightning-fast punch. All that seemed to do was just make Zarkt even more enraged. With a low growl, he grasped Kur’s collar and forced her to the ground.

The two rolled around on the floor and fought with senseless rage, a chaotic whirlwind of pummeling, curses, bites, and shouts. If Rox were here, she would probably be laughing her head off and ridiculing them for acting like children, which they currently were.

Zarkt was like a juggernaut, a bludgeon with pure savagery and force that lacked finesse and technique. He relied solely on strength and brutality, inflicting slow, heavy, but powerful blows on Kur.

Kur was enduring and resilient, and she fought with extreme volatility. When she held the advantage, she fought surgically, utilizing strength and control, trapping her brother in grappling positions, and striking with precision. But whenever Zarkt overpowered her, panic and unbridled ferocity took over. She became a rageful, mindless animal, slashing with her claws, biting with her teeth, and using everything at her disposal to escape the struggle.

After their long, unpleasant ground fight, Zarkt finally pinned Kur’s scraggly form beneath him. The jackal tried everything to dislodge the burly brute off, from pushing and punching with all her might, but to no avail. She was left breathless, bloodied, and drenched in sweat.

“Off. Get off,” Kur panted out, struggling to catch her breath.

“Not until you yield and confess that this entire debacle is all your fault!” Zarkt bellowed, restraining the jackal with renewed force.

“I am guilty of no such thing,” Kur affirmed, groaning and struggling to free herself. “Our brother and sister would never abandon us. I will recount your slander to Drix, and then I intend to sleep for a year straight. Now, unhand me!”

“No, you can sleep right here!”

“You haven’t got your flail, and you hit as hard as a cub,” Kur taunted scornfully, and a rough, croaking laugh tore from her throat.

Zarkt responded with a guttural growl and struck two hard blows at Kur’s cheek. “I don’t need it! Your decision has doomed us! Confess, and I shall make it quick!” he boomed, his eyes blazing with unadulterated fury.

Kur let out a series of wet, grated coughs and spat out a mixture of saliva and blood up at Zarkt. “My, never have I seen you so incensed. Why don’t you vent your spleen and scream your head off into the void to your heart’s content? Maybe even cry like the big baby that you are in your sleep,” the jackal defiantly taunted in a ragged, winded voice, laced with a thick layer of contempt.

“Oh, I’ll give you something to cry about!” Zarkt threatened and raised his fist, now enveloped in a crimson aura.

But just in time, a red hand gripped Zarkt’s wrist, halting the blow that was inches away from Kur’s face. He growled and jerked his head to the insectoid intervener.

“Buzz off, Drix! This is between me and her!” Zarkt snarled, his voice filled with resentment at the interruption and wrenched his arm away.

But Drix remained unfazed and placed a hand on Zarkt’s robust shoulder and the tense muscles of his back, a gesture of restraint and alleviation. He slowly pulled Zarkt off and steered him away from Kur. “Ease down,” he calmly said. “Close your mouth and open your ears.” His measured, even tone was like a gentle downpour that began to quench the fires of Zarkt’s rage.

“You’re just wasting your breath, Drix. The only words he can hear are the ones coming out of his foul yap,” Kur goaded, giving Zarkt a smug smirk and a low, gravelly chuckle.

Zarkt shot Kur a piercing glare. His eyes slowly morphed and deepened into a dark shade of crimson, and he stomped on the ground.

“Kur, enough,” Drix insisted, his voice now holding a sharp edge. “Do not aggravate him any more than you already have.”

“What? It’s the truth,” Kur protested, only to be quickly silenced by the insect’s reproving stare.

Drix leaned down and offered a hand to the jackal. “Are you alright?” he asked with a hint of concern.

Kur scoffed, her pride still smarting more than the pain. “What do you think?” she bit out sarcastically.

A shadow of grimness fell over Drix’s features. “Like you’re on the verge of death. He really did a number on you. I can’t lie, you look worse than usual.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over Kur’s disheveled form.

For a fleeting moment, Kur wondered if Drix was actually serious. She searched the bug’s red, multifaceted eyes for any signs of mockery. Briefly, she caught a glimpse of worry in his eyes, but then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Drix’s red lips twitched, a flicker of humor breaking through his mask of gloom. “Well, Kur, at least you dressed for a funeral,” he sighed heavily, feigning melancholic somberness, before turning away and snickering to himself.

Peeved, Kur glared incredulously at Drix. “Are you pulling my leg?” she asked, her raspy voice betraying a hint of grudging amusement.

“Hah! Walk it off! No pain, no gain!” Drix exclaimed with playful mockery and clapped Kur on the back.

Kur grimaced and rubbed her aching jaw. “At this point, I’m more likely to die from his loudmouth than his punches.”

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Zarkt shot back, taking a step forward.

“Calm yourselves, and take a breather,” Drix spoke with an underlying hint of authority. “Now please,” he continued, his voice softening slightly, hoping to diffuse the tension, “cool your tongues, shake hands, and end your quarrel,” he finished, his eyes flitting between the two.

“He started this!” Kur cried, her wounded pride bristling like the hackles of a cornered beast. She crossed his arms with stubborn refusal and scowled at Zarkt.

“Me? I will finish what you started!” Zarkt shouted back, still seething in anger.

The two exchanged glares that could curdle milk. Their eyes became alight with a malevolent crimson, mirroring the tempest raging within them. They both stomped their feet upon the stone ground and cast aside the last vestiges of restraint. Fortunately, Drix once again swiftly interposed between the warring siblings and placed a hand firmly upon their chests, feeling the frantic thrums of their hearts against his palms.

“Stand aside!” Zarkt demanded.

“Stop this! Fighting each other is not helping each other!” Drix supplicated in an urgent tone.

Out of anger, Zarkt shot a blast of Shatterspin at Drix, who effortlessly evaded it via his swarm form, but in the process, hit Kur in the chest.

“Zarkt! Settle down! Look, try saving your Shatterspin for the enemy!” Drix snapped, his voice holding a sharp sting.

“Do that again, and I will send you to your maker,” Kur angrily promised, clutching her chest.

“Will you two cut it out?! You need to focus!” Drix exclaimed, his patience finally fraying. He then wrapped his arms around Zarkt’s waist and forcibly pulled him away. “No more strife! Now is not the time for despair nor dispute! That comes later for everyone else!”

“Will you let go of me?!”

“Think of the others! What would they think if they saw us like this? They wouldn’t want this from us,” Drix earnestly exhorted.

Mollified by their brother’s words and slowly absorbing them, Kur and Zarkt’s anger began to dissipate. They lowered their clenched fists, and the red glow in their eyes gradually faded away.

Drix wrapped an arm around their shoulders and pulled them close to him. “Right now, we mustn’t be separated but united in purpose. Put your trust in their endeavor and remain focused. They will open the gate.”

Kur raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Drix, there’s no other way out,” she murmured despondently.

“Not to our knowledge. I believe there is another path that lies hidden, and they shall unveil it!” Drix proclaimed, squeezing their shoulders and trying to impart some optimism onto them.

After a long, silent moment of contemplation, Zarkt and Kur straightened out and gave a curt nod, their eyes lighting up with newfound conviction.

“They better do it, sooner rather than later,” Zarkt mumbled to himself. “How did we miss this?”

“We had the entire Theroxian repository at our disposal. Surely, our most venerable mentor would have been privy to all methods of ingress to this place,” Kur recollected.

“Well, apparently not,” Drix said. “It seems that such knowledge even eluded his grasp. The path, therefore, must lie somewhere else, out of our reach. I’m quite confident that our companions are working towards our freedom at this very moment, and you two should place your trust in them, like I have. Especially you, Zarkt!” he sharply admonished.

“I— I never doubted them!” Zarkt stammered, though the tone in his voice clearly said otherwise.

“Please, lying is Rox’s specialty. It is rather uncouth of you. Besides, I overheard every word,” Drix rebuked. “How could I not?” he muttered under his breath.

Zarkt gazed downward, abashed and regretful of his hurtful words. “Ah. Forgive me.”

“Zarkt, it is not I who deserves an apology,” Drix gently chided, subtly inclining his head towards Kur.

Zarkt frowned and glanced up at Kur. “My words were rash, as was my thinking. I should not have blamed you or accused our brethren of desertion. Accept my apologies,” he said remorsefully, extending a hand.

“Oh, you lumbering oaf. How could I not?” Kur said, a small smile gracing her lips.

With their animosity purged, the two embraced in a gesture of reconciliation and patted each other on the back. Drix didn’t know exactly what compelled him to, but he couldn’t help but join in on the hug. He released a thick sigh of relief, seeing that yet another one of their countless fights was now at an end, thanks to his presence and pacifying words. But of course, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that they would inevitably be at each other’s throats again. For now, though, he focused solely on this tender moment. He couldn’t understand it, but it felt rather… nice. This was how the Five should always be, instead of fighting and arguing. So, why? Why was there always chaos between them? Why did Nokt always aim animosity and frustration towards him when he did absolutely nothing to upset him? Why did he belittle him for his inferior strength? Why couldn’t the Five just be at peace with each other? Would they ever?

“There we go!” Drix exclaimed with a smile. “Now, was that so har— augh!”

Much to Drix’s complete shock, Zarkt pulled him in a bear-like grip.

“Wha— Zarkt! Stop squeezing me!”

“Oh. Apologies,” Zarkt murmured, his deep voice rumbling with a touch of sheepishness, and released Drix.

“If there really is an alternative path to our freedom, don’t you think they would have already unearthed it by now and released us?” Kur inquired.

“Aye, I must concur,” Zarkt agreed with a nod. He craned his head up to the impossibly high geometric ceiling of their prison and let out a heavy sigh. “Why are they taking so long?” he grumbled impatiently.

Drix gave him a disapproving look. “Time is not the issue. Escape is. You seem to have forgotten that it has scarcely been a week since they passed through the portal. Or has it been a month? I don’t even have the faintest idea anymore. Patience is a virtue, one that I suggest you cultivate for the time being. Now, while we await our return, I say we share our aspirations. Agreed?” he proposed.

Kur and Zarkt exchanged a look, shrugged, then returned their gaze to Drix.

“We have nothing better to do as of this moment,” Kur said in agreement.

The three walked in a single file back to the heart of their prison. For a moment, they stared in silence at the motionless body of Rox slumped against the stone throne before sitting down on the cold floor.

Zarkt’s head shot up, and he broke the silence. “The first thing I wish to do is feast! Yes! With fire, boar, and ale! Oh, and how could I forget? Drix, you simply must make your honey custard pie to commemorate our freedom!” he shouted excitedly, beckoning to the insect. The image of the future feast filled him with a rare joy and lit up his eyes, a stark contrast to his habitual cantankerous mood.

“Please stop talking about food,” Kur moaned, holding her stomach. The mere mention of sustenance already amplified the gnawing emptiness within her.

Zarkt chuckled, undeterred by Kur’s misery. “Drix! You still remember how to make your delectable treats, yes?” he pressed with inquiry and demand.

Drix squinted his eyes and gave him a wry look. “Surely, you jest. That was ages ago. I hope you don’t expect me to remember how to cook. I might have some recipes written down. Or, at least, I think I did,” he trailed off, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“You better start remembering. Or do I need to jar your foggy memory?” Zarkt growled, leaning forward slightly.

Drix huffed irritably. “I’d like to think that villages still exist today. When we return, why don’t you plunder one and stuff your face to your heart’s content?”    

“In my heart, I’m already there,” Zarkt said, his hard features softening slightly. His eyes glazed over, and he stared deeply at the geometric walls, now lost in a vision of indulging in the sweet luxuries of carnage and confections.

A small smile formed on Drix’s lips. He was always so used to seeing Zarkt as a raging lunatic fueled by his insatiable need for bloodshed. But here he was, subdued and calm. It was rather endearing to see him like this. “And there he goes. Always thinking with his stomach,” the corrupt insect whispered to Kur, a lilt of fondness in his voice. “Ah, some things never change.”

A rare display of humor flickered across Kur’s deformed face. “I don’t expect that bumbling beast to anytime soon.” She closed his eyes, her mind now lost in a faraway, wistful yearning. “I’ve wanted water for so long. When we are free, I shall bathe for an entire day!”

“Agreed!” Zarkt barked, pulled from his reverie. “I’ll finally rest easy once your putrid smell goes away! In fact, I will see to it myself! A good scrubbing is long overdue for your filthy skin!”

“Not necessary. I prefer my skin like this,” Kur mumbled.

Drix softly chortled as he pictured them knee-deep in a lake, splashing and fighting with each other over something so trivial as hygiene.

Kur sighed moonily, now envisioning herself treading through the darkness and entering the dire necropolis of yore that she had created by her very hand. She smiled, still seeing the nearly endless miles of countless pale, withered corpses. They littered the fields like grotesque snowdrifts, stretching far out in vast, uncountable distances as far as the eye could see, even to the horizon and beyond. It was her magnificent macabre magnum opus she had created after she unchained himself and embraced the freedom of chaos.

As if it had happened yesterday, she remembered that glorious blood-soaked day with such crystal clarity and the sepulchral symphonies of those who lay in the shadow of death. She proudly presented herself to the once powerful, mighty tribes and watched as they looked upon her and her works with horror and despair. Her decay was the baton that began the euphonious orchestra of wailing hordes that fled amok. None could escape her touch of death, and none ever dared to set foot in her necropolis. The region was dead silent, reduced to a colossal wreck. There were no birds, no animals, no vegetation, not even a single trace of life. There was only her and the deathly silence. She always believed she preferred to be alone, but that changed when four kindred spirits found her one day.

Kur craved the spectacle of watching the fleeting mortality of her victims. She wanted to see that realization, that look in their eyes, knowing that they would die and that there was absolutely nothing they could do about it. “I desire to visit the city of the dead,” she said, her gravelly voice filled with a melancholic nostalgia.

“Pick a plot while you’re out there,” Zarkt jabbed with a low chuckle.

A faint twitch played at the corner of Kur’s lips, followed by a ghost of a smile. “Accompany me on my sojourn there,” she sincerely proposed, all the while wrestling down the urge to rise to the bait.

“So you can send me to the grave while I’m not looking? I think not!” Zarkt spurned with a scowl.

Kur shook her head in disappointment. Clearly, Zarkt had grasped the wrong end of the stick. “Fool! Don’t you know by now that I would never decay you?” she retorted. “You are not that unbearable. Though at times, I confess, I do entertain the thought…”

Zarkt averted his gaze, his usual bluster momentarily faltering. A nervous, forced laugh escaped his lips, betraying his unease.  

Kur then turned her attention to Drix, her eyes now alight with curiosity. “What aspirations dance within your soul?” she queried.

Drix hadn’t truly pondered it as of late. What did he even yearn to do, besides contribute to their grand plan of chaos? For centuries, he only thought about the aching need to escape the void. But over time, he took some appreciation for the indefinite time that he had. Once, he was quite volatile, prone to bursts of outrage and impatience, much like Zarkt. To this day, that temperament remained within him, though to a much lesser degree. He was much more mellow and patient compared to the others. The centuries that bled into each other gave him the wisdom to just push away his emotions and not let them take over. Due to his customary calm demeanor, the Five heavily relied on him to mediate the tensions that arose within the group, to which he always complied. It was rather strange to think that his time in the void imparted a benefit on him, that perhaps he changed from his youth for the better. However, this was most assuredly not the case for the rest of his comrades.

“I don’t know,” Drix blankly answered. What could he do? What did he even desire, besides the essentials of life? He just didn’t know anymore. All else paled in comparison to the Five’s quest to conquer all of creation. His passion and love for his old talents and hobbies were no more. It saddened him to think that after all this time, a part of him was gone, completely faded like dust in the endless time of the void. 

“I want to unleash my swarms upon a village and watch as they are ravaged to death,” he finally answered.

“I can’t wait to see that,” Kur said excitedly. “Ah, imagine that. Decayed weaklings, being swarmed!”

“That would be quite the spectacle,” Drix agreed. He then shifted his gaze to Zarkt, his expression softening slightly. Perhaps a commemoration was in order. He remembered this heartwarming feeling he always had whenever his siblings enjoyed the food that he made and how pleased they were in those moments. He wanted to experience that again before their reign of chaos continued.

“I’m with you, Zarkt. Let’s have a feast before we continue with our conquest. We’ve been through too much here. We deserve a celebration, don’t you think?” Drix put forward, placing a hand on his comrade’s shoulders.

“Hmm. A grand meal before our destiny continues. I look forward to it,” Kur said with an avid nod.

“That sounds nice,” Zarkt said calmly. “But first, we must escape from this place!” he blurted out, his patience clearly strained. He sprang to his feet and began to restlessly pace around his siblings in a circle.

“Zarkt, have patience. Why don’t you sit back down?” Drix suggested. “Forget about when we’ll be free. Just think of all the treasures that are waiting for us on the other side.”

But Zarkt was simply inclined to harrumph at the insect’s words and dismissively waved a hand in the air. “No, I shan’t be patient! I cannot abide this place for much longer!”

Then, to the bewilderment of both Drix and Kur, Zarkt seized the cloak of Rox’s lifeless body and began to violently shake her around like a ragdoll. “Hear me, Rox! Hasten your efforts, and free us from this accursed tomb! Can you hear me?!”  

“Oh, by the endless chaos, he is such a dimwit,” Kur whispered, a mixture of exasperation and amusement in her tone.

Drix loudly groaned and slowly shook his head in weary resignation. “Here we go again,” he muttered.

“What are you doing? Let go of her, you fool,” Kur insisted, trying to pull Zarkt away from Rox’s body.

“Mongrel! Take your filthy paws off me!”

Just as Drix was about to intervene and prevent the inevitable brawl, they immediately froze and abandoned their squabble, now watching in confusion as Rox’s body became enveloped in a strange white light. They then turned to him with bemused expressions. Just now, Drix noticed that something was different here. There was light. For the first time in so long, there was an actual light source in the void. They then both pointed at Drix, or rather what was behind him. Upon turning around, he was greeted by the sight of a red, intangible wall of energy that pulsed before him like ripples in a pond.

“What is this? Who’s doing this?” Zarkt questioned.

“It’s not us,” Kur said.

“Drix! Kur! Zarkt! Can you hear me?” A familiar voice called out from beyond the shimmering barrier.

They jumped back with surprise, but once the realization settled in, they shouted with delight, pleased to hear the voice of their brother. If they had still doubted that their freedom would never come, in spite of Drix’s words, they doubted no longer.

“Nokt! It is good to hear you again!” Zarkt exclaimed, his voice brimming with relief.

“The feeling is mutual for us,” Rox joined in.

“Tell me, how is the land of the living treating you both?” Kur inquired.

“Better than you could ever imagine. But you won’t have to imagine for much longer.” Nokt replied.

Unable to resist the opportunity, Drix nudged Zarkt and Kur’s shoulders. “I told you so,” he gloated, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Alright, alright! No need to rub it in,” Zarkt grumbled with a jostle.

“So, I trust you bring tidings of progress?” Kur asked expectantly.

“Indeed, we do! These last few days have been quite eventful for us. To construct the gateway, we require three ivory crowns and an amass of elemental powers,” Rox divulged.

A profound, thick silence descended in the void. The three members remained locked in a moment of absolute astonishment as the sheer magnitude of the news settled upon them. This was it. The centuries of waiting patiently and enduring this miserable existence of nothingness were finally going to end. They were going to see the world again.

“Yesternight, we slew a matriarch dragon and claimed one of the crowns!” Rox proudly declared.

“Oh! Yes, most impressive! How I wish I could have seen that!” Zarkt shouted, his veins coursing with voracious bloodlust.

“Don’t worry. You will all have your fair share soon enough. As we speak, we draw ever closer to the Northern Spiral, where the next crown lies,” Nokt said.

“We’re very glad, and we look forward to continuing our conquest. But I am curious. Just how do you intend to acquire the elemental powers?” Drix pressed.

Rox chuckled, that sly, knowing chuckle that Drix was all too familiar with, even while using a different voice. “In due time. You remember the Tournament of Sources, yes? Well, fortunately for us, we will soon be attending there.

“When will it commence?” Zarkt asked urgently, highlighting his impatience.

“Unknown. It could be days from now. Weeks, perhaps. You know, sister, you should have asked that weasel about when the tournament will start,” Nokt said, lightly chiding Rox.

“Weasel? What weasel?” Zarkt’s voice sharpened with piqued interest.

“Oh, you will never guess who freed us. A tiger of all creatures,” Rox mentioned.

“How… ironic,” Kur trailed off, now thinking back to the night of their banishment, when Nokt brought back the tiger champion from his raid.

“I have the utmost confidence that you will crush him,” Zarkt said.

“No, we will crush him. Together!” Nokt eagerly assured.”

“Rejoice! Once we acquire all the elements, your deliverance will be at hand, and our reign of chaos can finally continue!” Rox exclaimed, her voice filled with burning ardor, knowing that each passing moment was bringing the fateful day closer and closer.

The three members joined together in a tight embrace, and a loud uproar of unrestrained laughter filled the oppressive silence of their prison. For the first time in years, their cold hollow hearts were enkindled with a soothing warmth that not even the void could extinguish.  

Chapter Text

For one week, Nokt and Rox traversed through the Wyldness. Along their journey, something persistently ached their nerves and set them ablaze. No matter where they went, whether it was the most barren wastes, the crudest village, or the most dazzling of cities, there was no chaos, no violence, or war of any kind. Not even a single fight took place in the streets. They loathed how their realm had reverted to the insufferable period of order, like a burnt forest naturally regrowing, more vigorous and resilient than ever. What a sickening mockery of their legacy.

From the tranquil sun-drenched grasslands and forests to the harshest of frozen and lava wastelands, there was always that infuriating, revolting peace. They could scarcely endure the serene quietness, the melodies of wildlife, and the lamentable absence of smoke, flesh, and blood permeating the air. How they missed the clashes of steel, the agonizing screams of the dying, and the glow of flames. In their eyes, the halcyon state of their realm was such a terrible travesty, revolting them to the point where it made them want to puke. Every trace of their grandiose works of rapacious ruin and chaos was completely wiped from the face of the earth.

Adding insult to injury, some of the lands now held ostentatious monuments, brazenly commemorating the Five’s humiliating defeat at the hands of those two vile, virulent vermin and the saccharine, slanderous sow of a sorceress. The overwhelming urge to tear down these detestable tributes nearly consumed them. But they held their anger in check and remained focused on their mission. For they knew patience was a far more potent weapon than any forged blade, and their power would remain hidden in the shadows until the time was right. Soon, the day will come when they drown this wretched world in a torrent of blood and fire and reduce this realm to ashes once more, just as they had done in ages long past. Their reign of chaos would burn so brightly that nothing, not even the godly Source Dragons would be able to snuff it out.

After days of arduous travel, they finally reached the northern region. Unlike the south, from whence they had emerged, thanks to the Wyldness monastery, the weather here was quite extreme and tempestuous. Upon crossing the threshold, rain had fallen in sheets; the downpour showed no signs of abating anytime soon. They stopped for a brief respite and lay in a vast, undulating field. The soft, moist grass beneath them and the cool, invigorating breeze refreshed them from their lengthy journey. Deep thunder rolled in the distance, and bolts of lightning crackled in the sky. This wild spectacle was quite a welcoming change of scenery. They found a deviant preference in the untamed chaotic weather compared to the serene sunny days. This sight reminded them of their youth. When the ominous dark clouds gathered and night began to encroach upon the land, they lingered outside longer than the other wolves and watched as the storm drew ever closer. They could never quite understand it, but there was something quite beautiful and alluring in witnessing something so powerful and dangerous. A destructive, unstoppable force of nature beyond anyone’s control.

Unbeknownst to Nokt, Rox began to drift off to sleep, only to be violently jolted awake by a booming thunderclap. She roused herself, rose to her feet, and quickly followed her brother.

The northern land was a desolate expanse of inhospitable terrain, populated by feral, savage folk who crawled through the treacherous, uneven roads. Villages were not organized settlements but a gallimaufry of grimy, shanty shacks. Instead of tribes composed of singular animals, there was a menagerie of creatures, hailing from many parts of the realm. If the siblings’ memories served them correctly, they never recalled such a bizarre collection of animals coexisting in such squalor and misery.

A thick, gloomy blanket of dark grey clouds clung to the sky, obscuring the sun's retreat. Daylight began to wane, and darkness soon bleed into the landscape as the two descended into a deep valley. The light breeze now stirred into rising gusts that whipped through the valley floor. Weeping willows lined the riverbanks, and their branches danced as the wind clawed at them. They drooped, and their leaves sighed somberly in the breezy dusk. The siblings crossed an old stone cobbled arch bridge over a river. Nighttime approached, and the moon gradually rose over the hilly landscape. More clouds began to coalesce, and the rainfall was now accompanied by a mixture of slush and hail. Hunger began to get to the siblings, and they were drenched, cold, and tired. They stopped at the river and relieved their thirst.

Nokt turned to his sister, whose borrowed vessel was severely fatigued and drained of all vitality. Her eyes, once alight with fierce ambition and bright energy, were now dull and glazed with exhaustion, reflecting the toll of their journey. She blankly stared at the motion of the rapid-flowing river. Once again, that innate sense of worry took over, and he now had this sinking feeling that she was putting too much strain on Jordana’s body.

Rox slowly hauled herself up to her feet and started to walk with a languid gait, only for Nokt to stop her in her tracks.  

“Your vessel can’t go on much further. You need to rest,” he stated firmly.

Rox fixed her brother with an incredulous gaze, her eyebrows arching in disbelief, followed by a displeased frown.

Really? This again?

She didn’t even feel tired in the least bit. Sure, her body was demanding nourishment, her legs were aching all over, and her feet had a great deal of throbbing blisters, but besides all that, she felt perfectly fine. Or at least, that was what she was trying to convince herself. Pain was no hindrance to her, a mere inconvenience to be ignored and cast aside in the pursuit of the crown. If anything, the pain only fueled her determination and drive to the mission. Nokt was just letting his emotions get the best of him. She shook her head and shoved her brother aside with more force than necessary, nearly sending him to the ground.

“This is rather unbecoming of you, brother. I am not a little cub to be coddled at every turn! You would do well to remember that!” Rox admonished, sharply poking him in the chest, before stomping away.

“Listen to your sister!” Zarkt taunted, his voice emanating from the golden stone hidden within Nokt’s robe. “The swifter your arrival, the sooner we shall reclaim our freedom!”

Of all the inopportune times for his brethren to communicate, of course it had to be now. “You couldn’t have picked a better time to barge in,” Nokt grumbled sarcastically, anticipating that the others were now about to bombard him with a barrage of complaints and demands.

“Explain to me again why you haven’t already reached the Northern Spiral?” Zarkt demanded impatiently.

“I keep telling you we’re traveling on foot! Naturally, our journey there would take time, something that you have plenty of,” Nokt angrily reminded.

“Why didn’t you travel by horse? Or procure a beast to hasten your progress?” Zarkt sneered.

“Because there were none to be found! Also, it would only serve to attract unwanted attention. Traveling on foot is the least conspicuous way,” Nokt replied.

“I am beginning to harbor doubts that you will ever reach the spiral. I trust you are aware that ever since you passed through the portal, we have been languishing here for months, so I would very much appreciate it if you make haste!” Zarkt skeptically persisted.

“Hush yourself!” Drix scolded. “It has not been months!” 

“I'll take your word for it. But at the glacial pace that they’re crawling, it may as well be!” Zarkt insisted with discontent.

“For once, we’re in complete agreement,” Kur said.

“Lo and behold! What is the world coming to?” Drix quipped overdramatically.

“If Rox can keep going, then let her. Don’t stop her,” Kur said pragmatically, prioritizing the mission of obtaining the crown instead of Nokt’s concerns.

“As if you could, even if you tried,” Zarkt smugly added.

“Quiet, both of you!” Nokt snapped. “If you were here, you would be thinking otherwise. And you don’t know my sister like I do.”

“But we do!” Zarkt insisted, followed by a very long pause that spoke for itself. “Well… I cannot speak for the rest of you, but I for one, certainly do!”

“Really? Tell me, what is her favorite spell?” Nokt challenged.

“Easy! The static spell!” Zarkt answered confidently.

“Wrong,” Nokt and Kur said in unison.

“Next time, try tasting your words before you so carelessly spit them out,” Drix stated candidly, his tone thick with disapproval.

“You and your blasted know-it-all attitude,” Zarkt grumbled, his face contorting into a sour pout of resentment.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Kur said, her voice laced with biting irony.

“Mindless maggot! Like you know any better!” Zarkt spat, his frustration now erupting in a burst of unrestrained rage. 

Nokt sighed internally, recognizing the familiar prelude of those two descending into a petty squabble. He swiftly shoved the stone back into his robe pocket to no longer hear them bickering and hurried to catch up to his weary sister, walking alongside the river.

“The others said that you–”

“Require no rest! I don’t! I heard everything, so don’t even try it!” Rox interrupted, her words punctuated with a glare.

Nokt huffed, his breath misting in the cold air. He quickened his stride, seeing that there was no point in talking any sense into her stubborn sister. For once, Zarkt may be right. There was nothing he could do to stop her. What was he even thinking? It’s not as if–

A sudden, loud splash violently interrupted his thoughts. Alarmed, Nokt whirled around, and his heart leapt into his throat to find that his sister was no longer behind him. His eyes darted frantically across the churning river, and he saw a fleeting glimpse of red and dark grey caught adrift, being swept away downstream. Panic seized him with an icy grip. “Rox!” he shouted, but there was no answer. Her limbs were limp, and her eyes were closed. She was unconscious, which meant she was going to drown if he didn’t do something soon.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Nokt plunged into the frigid river, and within seconds, the icy water numbed his skin and nearly stole his breath away. With all his strength, he swam as quickly as he could. He reached out and was so close to gripping her arm. But just as his fingers brushed against her cold skin, the river twisted and divided into two streams, separating the two.

Nokt managed to grab hold of an overhanging tree and hauled himself out of the water. He reached the shore and caught his breath, violently trembling from the freezing water, the nippy wind, and the fear that he had just lost Rox. The image of her drifting lifelessly in the water was seared into his mind, and he would not rest until he found her. He quickly retraced his steps to the river fork. For miles, he ran into the stormy darkness and followed the snaking river up to its mouth, where it led to a vast, still lake. Its clear, still surface reflected the stormy sky and dark clouds. But there was no sign of her. He doubled back and found that there was nowhere else the river led to. She should be here somewhere, floating in the water or washed up on the bank, but she wasn’t. She must have made for the shore.

Nokt waded out of the lake and stumbled upon the dry patch of land. It was here that he found unmistakable marks of recent passage. There were footprints, marring the muddy ground, leading into the dense forest before him. But something was amiss. These footprints were much bigger than the foot size of Rox’s current vessel, and they were clumsy and uneven. There was something else, too. He caught an unfamiliar, musky scent. Someone or something must have found her. Wasting no time, Nokt sprinted into the forest. Along the way, he found Jordana’s crystal ball, wet and half-buried in the mud. He retrieved it and pressed onward, following the foreign scent. After a mile of relentless pursuit, he emerged out of the forest and into an overgrown ancient graveyard. There were a myriad of gray headstones of varying sizes and shapes, many of which were weathered and covered in thick blankets of moss and lichen. They were also unevenly spaced, and the grass was long and unkempt.

“Oh Kur, you would love this place,” Nokt said to himself, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he pictured the jackal finding some morbid beauty in this graveyard.

Up ahead, silhouetted against the storm-ravaged sky, was an old dilapidated priory, situated on a hillside, overlooking the graveyard. The roof was steep and gabled, with a small bell tower topped with arched windows. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky and revealing an oddly familiar shape perched atop the building. It was a large Theroxian symbol. The stone walls were worn with age, no doubt due to the harsh storms. Nokt continued to follow the trail. The footsteps and the scent led directly to the priory’s crumbling entrance.

He pushed open the heavy wooden doors, their hinges groaning loudly in protest, and stepped inside. Candles and wall-mounted torches dimly lit up the interior, which somehow looked even worse than the exterior. The once-grand space was overtaken by time, filled with debris, dust, and encroaching vegetation. On the left and right were rows of dark wooden pews, covered in layers of grime and debris with water stains and signs of rot. The stone floor was soiled with dirt, water, and ash. The large windows were remnants of their once beautiful design, broken and obscured by branches and debris. This holy place was desecrated and deconsecrated, thanks to the corrupt, twisted beliefs that were held long ago and passed down. Assortments of hooded animals sat on the worn pews, muttering inaudible words with their hands joined together, an obscene parody of piety. This place reeked of must, decay, and the stench of corrupt faith. Rain dripped through numerous cracks and holes in the ceiling. At the dusty, wooden podium there was an abbot, holding a bronze shard of dragon ivory up in the air, speaking to it in a hushed, reverent tone. On the ground, chained on all fours, was a purple teenage dragon.

Nokt stomped the ground, and the muttering ceased abruptly. Every head in the room turned towards him, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

“Where is she?!” he shouted.

“Who are you?” one of the figures asked, their voice trembling slightly.

“Your death, if you do not answer me,” he growled low and dangerously. “I know a young girl was brought in here. Tell me where she is right now!”

The animals stirred with panic and unease. Some stood up and reached inside their pockets, drawing knives, while others cowered and hid underneath the pews.

“Stop! There is no need for violence. Tonight’s sermon is over. You may all leave now at once,” the abbot said in an all too familiar, dark language. He was a middle-aged humanoid bear with a deep, gentle voice.

Hesitantly and fearfully, the congregation hurried and shuffled out of the priory.

“Where is she?” Nokt demanded once more, his red glowing eyes fixed intensely on the abbot.

“Right here!” Rox called, emerging from an entrance on the right. “I see you are conversant in the Theroxian tongue.”

“Only a bit. I’m surprised to see you up so soon. You nearly drowned in the lake,” the abbot replied, his eyes gazing intently at the symbol of the wolf clan on Rox’s chest plate.

Rox rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, misinterpreting the abbot’s stare as lecherous. “My broth— I mean, my comrade and I have traveled for many miles with little food and even less rest. Our horses were stolen, and we seek a path to reach our kin,” she explained, effortlessly lying through her teeth.

“How unfortunate,” the abbot said, a frown creasing his ursine face. “You two are newcomers here. I’m sure you understand by now that many residents in these parts are very… uncivilized. Quite barbaric. Some live more fortunately than others. Where does your family reside?”

“Far away. Very far away in the north,” Rox responded.

“Well, you two must be famished. Wait here while I bring you some water and bread. I hope it will suffice.”

Nokt stepped forward, and just as he was about to turn down the offer, Rox elbowed him hard in the ribs and silenced him with a scowl. She turned to the abbot and gave him a plastered smile. “We appreciate it.”

The abbot leaned down, petted the dragon, and murmured something inaudible with this strange look of pity in his eyes. He then made sure the chains on the dragon were secure before making his way to another room, leaving the two siblings alone in the decaying priory.

“Alright, brother. I know what you’re about to say, but I–”

Before Rox could even utter another word, Nokt’s hand flashed out, slapping her hard across her face. She gasped and flinched away from him. Rendered speechless, she rubbed her stinging cheek and hung her head down with a vacant stare.

“You nearly got yourself killed,” he growled lowly, his voice tight with anger and concern.

Rox squinted her eyes and crossed her arms. “Correction. Jordana nearly died,” she flippantly dismissed in a raised tone. “I would have found another body anyway. But yes, I see now that you were right. I admit, I should have listened to you, and I shouldn't have pushed this vessel too hard. That’s as much of an apology that you’re going to receive,” she said, grudgingly acknowledging her mistake.

Nokt studied her for a long moment with an unreadable expression. The silence stretched, heavy and pregnant with unspoken accusations and lingering fears. Rox always possessed this unrestrained arrogance and infallibility. Sometimes he just wished he could pry it out and knock some sense into her. But then again, he was no different, and there were times when Rox felt the same way towards him. As much as he wanted to berate her for her recklessness and disregard for her vessel, he chose not to and dropped the issue with a heavy sigh.

“Good enough, that’s all I wanted to hear. Try not to lose this again,” Nokt said, handing her the purple orb.

“Just don’t breathe a word of this to the others, or else we’ll never hear the end of it from Zarkt,” Rox said.

“I won’t.”

A curl of disdain twisted Rox’s lips. “I overheard the villagers’ chants earlier. All these peasents are just desperate fanatics, clinging to our ideas. Can you believe it? They worship us,” she said with a derisive chuckle.

“Really? How interesting,” Nokt said dully. “What fools.”

“These miserable souls covet the power of chaos and crave the sorcery of Theroxian. Such insolence, begging for the reckoning against the tribes who wronged them. Soon, we shall bring it upon them. All of them,” Rox darkly promised. If it were up to her, she would have reduced every village they encountered to smoldering ash, but there was no time to indulge herself. They had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Where are we?” Nokt asked.

Rox gazed deeply into the crystal ball, and to her surprise, it offered no satisfactory answer. The terrain and the paths all looked the same. Just a monotonous expanse of verdant pastures, undulating terrain, and soaring snow-capped mountains. She could see the spiral off in the distance, yet it remained out of reach due to their deviation from the original intended path. It appeared that they were now lost for the time being.

“I don’t know,” Rox answered, her voice tight with frustration. “But wherever we are, I certainly don’t have any memory of these lands. They’ve changed too much, as have the people, it seems.”

The abbot returned with a wooden bucket of water and a loaf of bread.

“We greatly appreciate your hospitality,” Rox thanked, her voice oozing with false sincerity.

“I take it that you two are members of the wolf clan?” the abbot inquired.

“We are,” Nokt said with a nod. “In fact, we are lost. Where are we, and who are you?” he asked.

The abbot hesitated, his gaze drifting to the rough-hewn floor. “I’ve forgotten my name many moons ago. And here, we do not name our villages. We have never felt the need to, and we prefer it like this. Think of it as our way to remain… inconspicuous.”

“Inconspicuous from dragons, perhaps?” Rox asked, pointing to the chained dragon.

“Them, among others,” the abbot confirmed. “Such as the fabled dragon masters and the tribes who forbade the practices of Theroxian. But it was never truly forgotten. Not by us.”

“You’re familiar with the wolf clan and the Theroxian teachings,” Nokt observed with a hint of surprise in his voice. “The dragon masters hid away all this knowledge. Everything about the clan was erased from history. How did you come by to learn these things?”

“It is not just I who knows of the mighty wolf warriors or the teachings of their masters!” the abbot declared, his eyes now gleaming with a fierce, fanatical light.

“Many of the northerners do. Alas, it is why we are here in the first place, driven to this forsaken corner of the earth. For you see, after the Forbidden Five were defeated, some wolf warriors fled, seeking refuge from the wrath of the dragons. Some were captured and either sentenced to death or exiled to these lands. Some may have escaped their prisons. But the collective wisdom and knowledge that they knew has been passed down through generations.”

Nokt’s eyes shifted to the miserable dragon, whose head hung low, and his dull eyes simply stared back at the wolf, silently pleading for help. “Abbot, why do you have a dragon here? And how did you even manage to capture it?” he asked.

“For decades, we have striven to commune with the Forbidden Five. We wish to learn their ways of Shatterspin so we may carry on their legacy,” the abbot answered, his voice taking on a fervent tone and his eyes shining with zeal.

“But of course, in the pursuit of greatness, there is always a price to be paid,” the abbot said sorrowfully, his gaze falling upon the dragon, a shadow of regret momentarily clouding his features.

“Where exactly did you get this dragon from?” Rox asked.

“From the dragon tribe of the Northern Spiral.”

Rox stood up and approached the teenage dark purple dragon. Upon its head glimmered a few golden scales, a natural sign of a tribe leader’s heir. 

“My, my,” she murmured, a slow smile creeping across her lips. “Faithful to the end, I see. I must commend your audacity for abducting the future ruler of the Northern Spiral! You are one brave soul. Though, I am surprised the patriarch hasn’t already burnt down all these villages to the ground.”

“We once heard rumors that by combining the ivory and life energy of the dragons, you could communicate with the Netherspace. We have tried many methods with this,” the abbot said, holding a shard of dragon ivory. “But nothing has worked yet.”

“Your commitment is admirable, but I’m afraid you couldn’t have communicated with us no matter what. You don’t have an elemental power,” she divulged.

The abbot’s gasped slightly, his breath catching in his throat. “Us? Does that mean you two are members of the Five? But how? We recently heard news that one member escaped, but two?” he whispered with a mixture of disbelief and awe.

“It’s quite simple, abbot. Chaos. Through the power of chaos, all things are possible! It certainly works in mysterious ways that even we have never been able to fully understand. For you see, tonight, I believe we were guided here to you. Your faith and devotion to our cause drew us here, and now we require your assistance in our plan to free the rest of the Five.”

“We need you to lead us to the Northern Spiral,” Nokt added.

But to the siblings’ surprise, the abbot hesitated. His eyes, previously ablaze with fanatical fire, now swam with a murky blend of uncertainty. The mindless zealot was no more, causing them to frown. “I… I do not wish to go back there. They know my face and they will burn me! Take the dragon. It seems I have no more use for the poor thing. But, please, do not make me go back there!” the abbot pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation.

Rox scrutinized the abbot with a piercing gaze. “You do not strike me as a coward, abbot. No… this is something else. Guilt, perhaps? Regret? Shame?” she asked softly, yet her tone was filled with an underlying intensity.

The abbot sighed, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders as he sat on the stone steps. “Yes,” he admitted. “I wish I had never taken the dragon. Had I known it was all for naught, I would never have. Oh, what have I done? All these years, the patriarch has been consumed by grief. To lose your only child…” he trailed off, lost in a sea of deep regret.

“You must ask yourself, what is more important?” Rox pressed. “The life of a single dragon, or the liberation of the very beings you’ve worshipped and dedicated your entire life to? Who do you wish to free, abbot? Would you forsake the Five?”

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered indecisively. “I did before, but now…”

“Perhaps this will uplift your spirit. You have served our cause, whether you know it or not. It amounted to something in the end!” Nokt assured. “You should be proud!”

“So, why am I not?” the abbot whispered, his voice filled with doubt and uncertainty.

Rox pinned him with an intense stare, her head tilting slightly as she now studied him. Then, her eyes lit up in understanding, and a slow, knowing smirk unfurled across her lips, perceiving the abbot’s sentiment.

“Because you… sympathize with the patriarch. Which means you too, must have a child.”

The abbot’s eyes widened like saucers, and his face was now filled with incredulous shock. “H-how did you–”

“I’m afraid we cannot depart with only the dragon. We need you,” Rox brusquely interrupted, her patience wearing thin.

“You may take the dragon, but do not harm him,” the abbot pleaded. “He didn’t deserve this. I was a fool to do this.”

Rox shook her head. “No, you chose a method you believed would work but didn’t. We have matters to attend to at the spiral, and you will be coming with us. Think of this as a chance to… repent and right your wrongdoings.”

“Why? Why go to the Northern Spiral?” the abbot asked.

“Because we require the patriarch’s crown. We wish to negotiate with him. When all is said and done, the patriarch and his child will be together again. Now, cast aside your guilt and pledge your fealty to us.” 

The abbot’s mind raced, and he struggled to decide. He was torn between his belief in the Five and his sympathy for the patriarch. He knew that he had made a grave mistake, but he also knew that he had the power to make things right.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” the abbot slowly asked.

“You don’t,” Rox said, her tone now devoid of the shallow warmth from earlier. “Why don’t you just… have faith? Unless, of course, it’s broken. Is it?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.

“No, no it isn’t,” the abbot replied.

“Good. That’s what I thought,” Rox said with a satisfied smile.

“We wish to reward you and every poor soul here in the north! We shall bestow our power to all of you, and your people will no longer live in the shadows, forgotten and ignored! You will finally have your vengeance against the ones who wrongfully banished your ancestors and demonized all of you! Serve us, and we shall craft you into the strongest warriors in these lands! What say you, abbot?” Nokt offered.

“I… I will serve the Five,” the abbot said, kneeling before the two.

“I’m glad to see that your faith remains unshaken! Now, if you truly are a devout follower, and if you truly believe in our cause, then you will heed our instructions. Tomorrow morning, you will gather any warriors and those able enough to wield a blade here at the priory. But you will say nothing about our return. Now, kneel before me, swear it,” Rox demanded fiercely.

“I swear it,” the abbot vowed.

Rox snapped her fingers, and in an instant, a red rift materialized beside her. She reached inside and pulled out a handful of wolf masks. “I’m sure you recognize these, yes?”

The abbot’s eyes widened, his mouth agape slightly as he held one of the masks in his hand. He reverently caressed the smooth, flawless symbols in admiration. For a moment, he was lost in the enigmatic beauty of the masks and filled with a sense of wonder that he once felt as a child while hearing stories of the wolf warriors.

“Beautiful, aren’t they? These are my creations. My generous gift. I trust the villagers know what they are. Tell them we will freely give these masks to those willing to aid in our cause. Now, you may leave,” Rox ordered.

The abbot gave a quick bow and departed with frantic haste. Before he left, he cast one last, lingering look at the young dragon, then shut the twin doors behind him.

Nokt and Rox shared a look, then laughed loudly, muffled by the howling wind and the torrential storm outside.

“Foolish fanatic, clouded by sentiment,” Rox spat with contempt.

Nokt chuckled in agreement. “Aren’t we all?”

The two settled down near one of the wide, arched windows, their eyes drawn to the sprawling, lit villages nestled far below in the valley. From their lofty perch, the settlements appeared as a chaotic jumble of simple lives with families huddled in small cottages, farmers tending to their meager fields, and a miscellany of animals roaming the muddy, flooded streets. There was something hauntingly familiar about this rustic, harsh life, and they could just see the quiet desperation that the villagers hid deep inside them. The way these people were all uncared for and forgotten, cast out of their tribes and thrust into a miserable life where they had to endure the brutal whims of nature and the unforgiving wilderness. It echoed the bleak life that the siblings had once lived in their youth.

But they felt no sympathy for the villagers. All they perceived was pathetic resignation. Spineless acceptance of their lot in life. These people may cling to their beliefs in the Five, but they did not possess that willingness to fight, that burning spirit in them. That persistence against the harsh times. They should have risen and fought back against the ones who outcast them, but instead they remained here, frozen in time, wallowing in their sorrow and misery. Their scorn was not just aimed at the current northerners but extended to all those who had come before, dating back to their original wolf servants. They were all just pathetic weaklings, clinging to the promise of the Five like drowning men clutching at driftwood in a storm-tossed sea, grasping for a power that will forever be beyond their reach. Their belief was hollow, and in the end, it was only for themselves.

Then again, the weak invariably turn to the strong in their times of need. But such reliance was a double-edged sword, and the strong always extract every ounce of value until nothing remains. When the weak become redundant, the inevitable happens, and they are discarded like broken tools.

The two siblings watched as the tall trees swayed slightly, remaining resilient against the windstorm. These trees grew in this harsh environment, constantly battered by the elements. The struggle against the wind strengthened their roots, and they continued to grow, taller and stronger than before. The Five were no different. They didn’t grow up in perfect conditions like everyone else did, shielded from the hardships of life. They faced them, just like these trees. They never had the luxury of basking in the fleeting warmth of ease. Every step they took forward, they felt like they took two steps back. But they kept going, and eventually, they found themselves somewhere they never thought they would be. They learned that strength was not built on comfort, but confrontation. The tribulations they faced were necessary to shape them into who they were now. It built their foundation and solidified their roots, something that no one could ever take away from them. Power was everything, and to them, their might was right.

Nokt and Rox lay down on separate benches. Compared to the cold stone floor they had to sleep on for thousands of years in the Netherspace, this wood was quite comfortable. Lately, they had to sleep on the rocky ground of caves or seek refuge under a tall tree. At least this was the closest thing to a bed. Their minds swam with thoughts of the many ways the patriarch would meet his demise. Every day, the Five’s release became closer to reality, and they looked forward to the trek to the spiral. The relentless pelting of rain, the booming thunderstorms, and the squalls did not even bother them in the least bit. They slumbered soundly through the storm and dreamt of their brethren’s liberation and the chaos that they would all bring together.

Nokt awoke at the crack of dawn and quietly crept out of the priory, careful not to rouse his sister, who was currently laughing contentedly in her sleep. No doubt, she was dreaming about a plethora of wonderful fear and bloodshed. The storm passed, and the morning air held a cool breeze, accompanied by the crisp scent of petrichor. He went into the forest and sought prey to keep their strength up in the journey that was soon to come. Upon his return, Rox joined him outside, and they roasted their unorthodox morning meal, consisting of a few rabbits. Once they finished their meal, they made their way to the lake and bathed in the water. After drying and clothing themselves, they watched as a blood red sun slowly rose from the horizon. But something was different this time. Their appreciation for the sun’s warmth, its light, and its beauty was no longer there. There was only that indifference, that lack of value in the vitalities of life. In their eyes, it was now a marking used to tell the time of day and provide light for visibility. Just as they fell into the habit of taking things for granted, so too would the rest of the Five.

After roughly an hour of waiting with restless, tense anticipation within the grim walls of the priory, the abbot arrived, burdened by the weight of his conscience. He was followed by six armed villagers, all clad in antiquated wolf clan armor, carrying provisions on their backs. Rox masked her disappointment; she expected more willing participants, but she couldn’t complain. Six would suffice for them just in case they faced any additional dragons at the spiral. She handed each of them a mask. “Rest assured, the wolf clan will handsomely reward you upon our return. And now, I offer you a gift. Take these. They will give you strength.”

Without question, they all donned the masks, and with a hidden hand behind her back, Rox infused her dark magic into them. The corruption of their souls was so swift and absolute, they didn’t even have a single second to react or resist. Their minds and wills were gone, leaving behind only vacant puppets to do Rox’s bidding. The child of the patriarch was leashed and overseen by the reluctant abbot, who was no longer serving the siblings out of faith but fear. If Nokt and Rox had it their way, they would have ended the abbot’s life on that very morning, but they needed him as a guide. The bear held a familiarity with the labyrinthine mountain passes, for he alone knew which ways were safe and unsafe. Over the years, he took the longer, hidden roads to the spiral and pilfered ivory from the mines, using the precious material to trade them for profit or use in his fruitless rituals for him and the villagers to speak to the Five.

They all departed from the priory, leaving behind the northern settlements and the valley far behind. The spiral was hidden deep in the serpentine embrace of the snow-covered mountain range. Even though they took the safest pass, it was still fraught with peril. One false step would lead to a tumble off the cliffside. The path they followed traced the jagged spines of the mountains. The higher they climbed, the more severe the weather became. The air grew sharper and thinner, biting at exposed skin with an icy ferocity, to the point where Rox could no longer feel her hands. The wind became so cold that its icy fingers began to claw through Nokt's thick fur, leaving him shivering. Torrential deluges of rain obscured their vision, and for hours on end, the wind howled and assaulted their ears. Rocks and boulders galloped down the mountainside, sometimes nearly hitting their heads. On several occasions, they saw dragons off in the distance, soaring across the sky, an indicator that they were nearing the spiral.

The nights were devoid of all comfort and warmth, save for the body heat that the two siblings shared. The cold gnawed at their bones and seeped into their very marrow. As much as they wanted to, they could not build a fire. Dragons possess impeccable senses of smell and sight. There was a high probability that the smoke and light would attract unwanted attention, which was something they could not risk. They dared not raise their voices or shout, and they only spoke in whispers, for the echoes were uncanny up in the mountains. The silence was only broken by the distant thunder, the wailing wind, and the cracking of ice.

Days blurred into a relentless cycle of precipitous climbing with the ever-present threat of a fatal plunge. The paths led them close to the windswept summits before they descended to the icy fields and forests. There came a point where the sun completely vanished, and not a single ray of light shone down upon them. There was only the perpetual gloom of the dark clouds, heavy rain, and lightning storms. The deeper they ventured into the mountains, the more unforgiving the weather became. Avalanches, once rare occurrences, grew increasingly frequent, obtruding their path and forcing them to detour through even more perilous terrain. As the temperatures rapidly dropped, the rain quickly turned to snow, a blinding white maelstrom that swallowed the world around them.

The abbot began to see the siblings’ quest for the crown as a reckless suicide mission. He wanted to turn back, but he knew that it was too late. And even if he tried, he knew he would either be killed by them or swept off the mountainside. No matter what, his fate was already sealed. He just didn’t know it yet. All he could think about was the thought of seeing his family again. He wished he had never saved Rox, or rather, the vessel she inhabited, from drowning on that night. His selfish yearning for power and his blind faith in the Five were what led him down this path to the spiral, and it was here he began to regret every unethical choice he made in his life. All he could do now was just hold onto the fragile hope that the siblings would honor their bargain and bestow their power upon him and the northerners when their quest was complete.

Caves became more frequent, providing them shelter from the elements. No doubt, these were once makeshift dens, carved out by the mountain dragons in ages past. Their odors still lingered there even after all this time. Some of the mountain passes had collapsed long ago, forcing them to backtrack and find an alternative route. When the weather reached unbearable extremes, they were forced to seek refuge in the deep, dark caves and ivory mines that honeycombed the mountains, impeding their progress and adding days to their already arduous journey. Fortunately for them, the subterranean passageways were completely abandoned, with no dragons down there to hinder their progress.

Finally, after navigating through the dark depths, they emerged into a panorama of splendor, where they beheld the breathtaking starlit night sky. The raging storms and the thunder clouds passed with only a calm breeze remaining. Silvery moonlight evenly bathed the landscape in a luminescence, revealing the towering Northern Spiral, standing as a titan that dwarfed all the other mountains. The spiral resembled a soaring tower, reaching up towards the heavens. Unlike all the other mountains that had their pyramidal peaks, the spiral was flat topped. Etched into the sides was a winding path carved into the very stone, wide enough for dragons to traverse. Beyond it lay the ancient stone city of the northern dragon tribe, their incredible rock-cut structures expertly constructed directly into the cliffsides of the distant mountains. It was quite an impressive and pragmatic marvel, a testament to the ingenuity and architectural prowess of the dragons. But the siblings had no time for sightseeing. Their quest was urgent, and their purpose burned fiercely. They turned away from the captivating vista and headed down towards the spiral.

Seeing that their long-sought destination was within reach, they spurred onward with renewed vigor until they stood at the foot of the winding stairs of the spiral. Fueled by unyielding determination, they commenced their climb, never once stopping to catch their breath. Each second, their pace quickened up the ancient stone steps. But then a thought occurred to Rox, and she scolded herself for not thinking about it earlier. “Wait!” she called out to her brother, her voice echoing through the mountains.

Nokt stopped, swerved his head around, and scowled at her. He walked back down to her, placing a finger to his lips in a sharp reprimand. “Quiet! Are you trying to alert the patriarch of our presence?” he hissed under his breath.

“Relax. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s already picked up our scent. But just listen to me. Why climb all the way up there when we can do… this!”

Using her magic, Rox lifted herself, the abbot, the dragon, and the wolf warriors effortlessly off the ground, and all gradually floated upwards to the peak.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Nokt muttered to himself before joining in on the aerial ascent.

They attained the summit and emerged onto a grand plaza. A highway of weathered stairs stretched before them, leading to an old, colossal stone structure that dominated the mountaintop. The great cathedral of the north was a massive complex of marble and lustrous argent made centuries ago by the devout acolytes of the Source Dragons. Its tall spires resembled lances pointing upward. Graceful domes crowned the sprawling edifice, their surfaces reflecting the moonlight in a shimmering display. At the apex of the largest, center dome was the sacred symbol of the Motion Source Dragon, emblazoned in gold. It served as a reminder of the power that the revered tribe father was intertwined with.

But this haven would provide no safety for the patriarch, and his faith in the fallacious divinities would prove to be his downfall. Just as these Arcs lingered and indulged in their undue conceit and tranquility, so too did the benevolent Source Dragons. They had grown too prideful, too proud with their boundless power over all things. Their arrogance was a grave miscalculation, in which, by believing that there is no threat that could possibly reach them, they only remained blind to it. Ever did it lurk and grow in the shadows.

The weak emblems of power shall soon be broken. Once this hallowed temple is razed, and the blood spills on the consecrated grounds, the Source Dragons shall know the truth. They will soon taste the gall of their grievous negligence in failing to protect their seraphic hosts, further proof that they are not the omnipotent overseers of creation. The Five expected nothing more from these false idols.

“Zarkt? Are you there?” Nokt whispered into the golden stone.

“No, but I am,” Drix said.

“Is that fool fighting again?”

“No. He claims to have smelled the scent of human flesh and has been searching for hours.”

“Be on your guard. A sacrifice may be trapped in there with you,” Nokt cautioned.

“Duly noted,” Drix responded.

“Relay to the others that we have arrived at the zenith of the spiral.”

“Will do. I’ll leave you to it then,” Drix said, then severed the connection and departed from the throne room.

The group stood before the cathedral’s grand stone doors, heavily carved with symbols of the Arc Dragons and flowing details and depictions of their great battles in ancient times. Nokt and Rox delivered a synchronous kick, and the massive doors fell inward with a resounding thud. Moonlight flooded the cathedral’s interior. The walls and ceilings were adorned with elaborate geometric patterns and arabesques, predominantly in shades of cream, immaculate porcelain, and shimmering gold. The vastness of the space was overwhelming, and the architecture spoke of the unwavering devotion that the constructors held for this place and the dragons. Tall, narrow stained-glass windows were vertically arranged on the walls, each filled with intricate details and vivid colors. Surrounding the windows were richly decorated arch frames with gilt metalwork, adding to the chapel's opulence. High up on the chancel wall was a central rose window, depicting the symbols of the Source Dragons in a circular order. The moonlight that shone through the windows cast these kaleidoscopic patterns across the silent floor, painting the interior with strokes of radiant light. At the end of the long, pristine nave stood two armor-clad dragon guards. In the middle lay a large indigo colored dragon with curling mint green horns. They growled at the voracious vandals who dared to trespass the sanctum.

Indur, the patriarch, rose up and fixed his amethyst glowing eyes on the purple dragon. As the father recognized his son, his eyes lit up with bittersweet sadness, and his somber face softened. He rose up and stepped forth, almost hurriedly.

“My son! You have returned!” Indur exclaimed with deep joy, his voice projecting into the little dragon’s mind.

The dragon child’s eyes beamed, and his scaled tail wagged. He gave out a cheerful chirp, and with all his strength, he strained against the crude iron collar that chafed his neck, desperate to run towards his father. Stumbling forward and nearly falling from the pull, Rox yanked back the dragon with a grunt and delivered a hard kick to his ribs.

“Release him this instant!” Indur demanded with a loud stomp, shaking the very foundations of the cathedral and causing dust to rain down from the vaulted ceiling.

“Oh, but don’t you want to know the cause of your years of inconsolable sorrow? Well, look no further,” Rox said, shoving the trembling abbot forward.

“Go to him. Confess your crime,” she commanded with smug amusement, reveling in the abbot’s fear.

With no choice, the abbot inched slowly and fearfully walked towards the massive presence of the patriarch, his limbs heavy with dread.

“You are the one who took my son away? Do not lie to me,” Indur growled. He fixed the abbot with an unwavering gaze, scrutinizing him with an intensity that felt like physical pressure weighing down on him.

“Y-yes,” the abbot stammered, the words barely audible. He hung his head, unable to meet the patriarch’s burning gaze.

“Why did you do this?” Indur pressed.

“I wanted the power of the Five. We all did,” the abbot confessed, wringing his paws together.

“You and the northerners are so blind, holding onto the belief in those dastardly desecrators. You have all condemned yourselves,” Indur said, repulsed by how far the denizens have fallen, thanks to a simple evil idea that originated thousands of years ago. The Five may have been trapped in Netherspace, but their idea remained, and it changed people’s lives forever, and for the worse. 

“What else can we do?” the abbot cried, his voice rising in desperation. “Go back to our tribes? We’ve tried, and they didn’t accept us! They never have, and they never will!”

“The solution has always stood before you, yet you are too cannot see it! Why not leave this wasteland and start anew? Build a home someplace else and relinquish your tainted idolatry. The Merge has so many new and wondrous creatures. They would treat you fairly and accept you.”

“But strength and power are all that matters in this world! We have none of it! We need it to survive!” the abbot protested.

“Do not dare try to justify your actions,” Indur rebuked. Your beliefs have intertwined so deeply with your identities. You’ve never questioned them. You all just blindly accepted this blighted credence and continue to cling to it for the false promise of power. But there is so much more to life than power and survival.”

“How? How did it come to this?” the abbot asked, his voice a broken whisper filled with regret.

“This is all one long, tragic cycle. It is not your parents’ fault, nor theirs, nor the fault of any of your ancestors. The beast’s corruption is what started all of this. You were raised to believe in the Five, just like all your ancestors were. But this does not absolve you of your crimes. You still made your choices. You have all the freedom in the world, whether you realize it or not. None of you are bound to their idea. Any of you could have broken this cycle.”

The abbot knelt and stared at the ground. “Is it too late to ask for forgiveness?”

“As long as there is breath in our lungs, it never is,” Indur gently responded.

Tears streamed down his furry cheeks. “I’m so sorry for taking your son. It was wrong and inexcusable. If I could take it back, I would,” the abbot confessed remorsefully.

The patriarch leaned his head forward and gazed deeply at the abbot, his eyes scrutinizing the depths of the other's soul. Had his words been lies, the dragon would have already passed judgment down. But at that moment, he saw the truth in the bear and sensed his regret and fear.

In the fleeting span of a heartbeat, the abbot was engulfed in searing flames, not by the dragon’s breath, but by the outstretched hand of Rox. He screamed in unimaginable agony as the fire engulfed and consumed him alive. The acrid stench of burning fur and flesh filled the air, and his cries echoed through the cathedral until only silence and a sickening charred body remained.

Indur deeply exhaled through his nose. “He did not deserve to die,” he said quietly.

Rox shrugged apathetically, as if she didn’t just burn someone alive. “He was redundant,” she said impassively.

Witnessing the incineration, the dragon child became petrified and quivered in place. The singular thought of meeting the same gruesome fate consumed his mind. Fear gave way to panic. Desperate, high-pitched cries of distress escaped him, calling out to his father to save him from these monsters. 

“Such a handsome little thing you’ve raised,” Rox mused, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness that belied the cruelty in her eyes. She reached out and stroked the dragon’s trembling head to hush his racking cries. “It would be quite a shame if something… happened to him.”

Indur’s eyes narrowed, the violet depths hardening into chips of glacial ice. “How damaged you must be to threaten a child. I know you have come here for me, so leave him out of this!” His plea held a barely suppressed simmering rage that threatened to erupt. But he contained himself, knowing that his aggression would only lead to his son’s death.

“You have something we want, and we have something you want. Give us your crown right now,” Nokt demanded.

“Let him go first,” Indur countered.

Rox slowly shook her head. “Don’t turn a simple negotiation into a tragedy. Or do you not love your son?” She spoke, the venom of sadism staining each syllable.

“We both know that this is no negotiation. And what has befallen you, to all of you, is the true tragedy,” Indur responded, fully aware of the insidious corruption that had twisted the Five into grotesque parodies of their former selves.

Rox gripped the dragon child's throat and gave the patriarch a penetrating stare, her eyes burning with malevolent fire. “How would you like for him to die?” she coldly threatened.

“Old,” Indur answered. He let out a growl and flicked his head, commanding the guards. They flew up, and using their jaws, they pulled off the ivory crown and threw it at the siblings’ feet.  

Rox let go of her hold over the dragon.

“Take it. Now, release him and leave my domain.”

But the siblings had no intention of departing just yet. Their bloodlust returned with a ferocious hunger that demanded to be sated tonight. They could not leave the patriarch alive for the sake of keeping themselves and their depraved acts a secret from the world. If they did, he would no doubt reveal their identities to the Source Dragons, and either they or an army of dragons would come after them. 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Rox said. “We’ve already made our choice, and now it rests upon you to make yours. Whose life do you value more? Yours or his? If you truly love your son, then you will come forth and die for him. If not, then fly away and live with the pain until the end of your days.”  

The patriarch’s eyes met his son’s, and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

“And what gives you the audacity to presume that I would flee from you two?” Indur questioned.

“It seems to be a habit with you Arc Dragons. Like that craven, the matriarch of Fallen Leaves. In the face of our might, she fled and begged before us. Ha! You should have seen her! She begged like a dog for a swift and merciful end!” Rox goaded derisively.

Indur closed his eyes and sighed deeply, mourning the loss of the matriarch. He knew that it was a blatant lie, a calculated attempt to provoke him. But he would not succumb to Rox’s machinations.

“She would never beg. I know she died with honor, a quality that you two lack.”

“Honor doesn’t matter in this world,” Rox sneered.

“Was it quick?” the patriarch asked, a hint of sorrow seeping through.

“No. She lay before our feet, and we watched as she slowly bled. Now make your choice, patriarch. Your life, or his.”

Indur knew what this really was. This ‘bargain’ was simply a display of power that they currently held over him. They held his child’s life in his hands, and he knew without a doubt that Rox would end him, no matter what. Mentally forming a plan in meticulous fashion, he severed the telepathic connection with the two fiends. His violet eyes bored into his son’s, and after a brief, private exchange, he resumed the link. “You already know what my answer is,” he replied without hesitation, his voice devoid of fear.

“I thought so,” Nokt said, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “After all, what father wouldn’t sacrifice himself for his own son?”

“Is that what happened to yours?” Indur asked.

The two siblings glared at the dragon, their eyes burning with red, infernal light. Irritation swiftly morphed into impatience.

“Enough of this witless prattling,” Nokt snarled, his fists clenching at his sides.

The patriarch let out a loud battle roar. “Now!” he boomed.

In an act of courage, the dragon heir leapt up, and with his small maw, he clamped down hard on Rox’s gloved hand. She yelped in surprise and pain, her grip loosened, and the leash fell to the floor. He then ran as fast as his legs could carry him towards his father.

Indur already knew his fate, and he wasn’t afraid of meeting it. All he cared about now was the safety and survival of his precious child. What he did next, he did with a heavy heart, knowing that this was the very last time he would ever see him.

“I love you, my son,” the patriarch choked out, the words thick with unshed tears. With a claw, he removed the collar, then lightly pushed his child forward with his massive wing. “Now, go! Fly as fast as you can, and do not look back!” he urged, his voice heavy as lead, filled with love and sorrow. The son hesitated for a brief moment, a spark of defiance flickering in his tear-filled eyes, before reluctantly acceding to his father’s final wish. With a flap of his fledgling wings, he flew out of the collapsed cathedral entrance and into the night sky. A heart-rending wail echoed through the mountains as he mourned the imminent loss of his father.

“Go,” Rox commanded, motioning the wolf warriors towards the two dragon sentinels. The entourage drew their swords and charged forth. The patriarch’s guards, unflinching in their loyalty, met their onslaught head-on. The skirmish began and the air became filled with roars and the clangs of blades colliding against scales and claws.

Indur could have fled with his son and escaped his encroaching doom. But here he was, and here he would remain until the end. He could not forsake his sacred charge as the guardian of this land. To do so would be a betrayal that would forever stain his soul, a violation of the unbreakable vows that he took before the celestial council. This was not out of pride, for he knew painfully what that inevitably led to. He never forgot the day when the fallen general was cast out and fell into darkness. He remained because of his duty. This is what it meant to be an Arc Dragon. To defend this world from evil, to protect their tribes, and to fight to the bitter end until their last breath. He knew full well that his power was no match for the siblings. They were young, and he was old. But he refused to retreat or yield to them. Militaristic discipline was deeply rooted in the patriarchs and seldom few matriarchs. From the earliest days, they were instilled with the belief that retreat and surrender were unacceptable. To do so would be to bring shame and dishonor upon themselves. They lived and died by this iron code in their service of their tribes and the Source Dragons. So stood Indur, last of the old guard of the north, a solitary bulwark against the devilish duo.

A glacial blast of absolute zero erupted from the dragon’s maw. Nokt and Rox reacted quickly and swiftly dove aside, untouched by the ice. They stomped their feet against the stone floor and unleashed a coordinated barrage of Shatterspin. Indur quickly created a wall of ice against the onslaught. The deadly blasts crashed and exploded, slowly chipping away at the frozen barrier. Nokt charged and activated his element. Channeling his raw, untamed power, he slammed his fist into the weakening wall. Large, jagged spiderweb cracks raced across the ice before it shattered into a multitude of shards.

The patriarch breathed a concentrated beam of ice down at them. With their Shatterspin, the two deflected the brunt of the attack. Just as they prepared to unleash another wave, a creeping tendril of cold snaked across the floor and wrapped around their feet. Ice began to climb their legs, encasing them in a paralyzing prison, and rapidly rising towards their torsos, threatening to immobilize them entirely. Thinking fast, Nokt fired a crimson wave at Rox, destroying her frozen bonds. Before she had the chance to extricate her brother, Indur’s tail lashed out with blinding speed and slammed into Nokt with the force of an avalanche, sending him hurtling into a nearby wall. With a powerful beat of his wings, Indur ascended into the air, and a barrage of icicles rained down upon Rox. Moving as quickly as her vessel could afford, she narrowly evaded the projectiles before retaliating with more waves of Shatterspin. At the corner of her eye, she saw her brother stand up, undamaged, and begin running to the flank of the airborne dragon.

Rox deflected more offensive ice blasts, at times even redirecting some back. “It’s going to take more than a little ice to defeat us!” she taunted, keeping the dragon’s focus solely on her, all the while oblivious to what moved behind him. Seizing the opening, Nokt fired a wave of Shatterspin that connected with Indur’s side, sending him crashing back to the ground with a thunderous roar.

Thrown in front of Rox was a mangled wolf warrior, heavily injured from being mauled by one of the dragon sentinels. A puddle of blood quickly formed beneath his broken, contorted body. With callous disregard, she pried the bloodied sword out of his stiffening hand and slit his throat before stepping over his corpse. She wreathed the blade in blue flames, the steel glowing with infernal heat, then infused her Shatterspin into it, greatly empowering the once simple blade.

Indur roared in fury. He recovered and with a snarl, rushed towards the siblings. Rox released a searing stream of white-hot fire on the patriarch’s face, momentarily blinding him. His scales sizzled and blackened under the intense heat; the air was now filled with the stench of burning flesh. Nokt charged into the fray and struck the patriarch in the chest with the force of a battering ram. Indur collided into a rock-hewn pillar that collapsed down on his body, pinning him beneath its immense weight. Rox cleaved the dragon’s hind leg with one magnificent cut of the burning blade, like a knife through butter. The wound was deep, severing muscles and bones and cauterizing the flesh. Indur roared in agony, the sound echoing through the ruined cathedral.

Intent on delivering the final blow, Rox quickly moved towards the downed dragon. But in her haste, she unwittingly stepped onto a patch of ice. Before Nokt could even warn her, a thick ice shard shot up from the ground and impaled her leg. Then a second shard pierced her through the abdomen, driving deep into her flesh. She dropped the flaming sword, and a shrill cry of pain tore from her throat. Always mind your surroundings. The words of her old mentor arose from the depths of her memory, a bitter reminder of a lesson unheeded. She angrily scolded herself for her simple mistake, for being too preoccupied with the thrill of the kill.

Compared to her past injuries, this was nothing to her. She had years of rigorous training and brutal battles. Pain never made her weak, but stronger. These were merely objects to be removed from this shell. Gritting her teeth against the sharp pain and acting with cold detachment, she unflinchingly ripped out the icicle from her midsection. The jagged edges tore at her flesh. She locked down the agony and forced it into a distant corner of her mind. Slowly leaning down, she placed her hand behind her leg and quickly pulled out the remaining shard. Blood gushed forth, staining the pristine floor. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she limped away from the prone patriarch, mindfully avoiding the ice and frost-covered ground. After a few unsteady steps, she fell to her knees. The edges of her vision darkened, but she violently shook her head, refusing to let herself faint.

Seeing his incapacitated sister, Nokt drowned in a state of frenzy and let out feral snarls. He became a ferocious, wild animal and with boiling rage, he hammered consecutive blows of Brute Force at the dragon, leaving him bloodied and marred. Indur fought back with ice-covered foreclaws, swiping and striking. But Nokt was like a force of nature, swiftly parrying the icy claws, and with adamantine strength, he cut through the patriarch’s attacks like a hurricane. Each strike was so devastating and overwhelming to Indur that it forced him out of the head-on confrontation, and he took flight.

Rox placed her palms on her vessel’s wounds, and with her magic, she focused on mending them. She clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut, as the healing process was far more excruciating than the initial punctures. The torn flesh knitted back together, the muscles reattached themselves, and the bones slowly mended. The bleeding subsided and her wounds closed, leaving angry red scars in their wake. With her pain alleviated, she slowly stood back up and joined in on her brother’s assault.

She lit up chunks of the fallen pillar, encasing them in shimmering blue flames, and hurled them at the dragon. Injured, Indur’s flight speed was reduced, and his massive form could not avoid all the bombardment. He held up his wings to protect himself against the incoming mortar. Nokt shielded himself and Rox against another assault of frost breath before meeting it with more crimson waves.

Rox squinted up and saw thin fractures forming across the high ceiling. The two continued to throw more waves, and with each blast, the cracks widened until large, jagged pieces of the cathedral began to collapse. Pouring her energy into a spell, and with a downward sweep of her hand, she brought more of the ruined temple down. Weakened and wounded, Indur dodged the falling debris, but some inevitably hit his scaled back and wings, faltering him momentarily. Nokt’s wave of Shatterspin found its mark, slamming into the patriarch’s skull and sending him plummeting to the ground. Before Indur could stand up, Rox tore a massive chunk of the cathedral’s wall, crushing him beneath its weight. The ground trembled, and a thick cloud of dust and debris choked the air. Stillness settled, broken only by the ragged breaths of the defeated dragon.

A tremor ran through Indur, not of fear, but of resignation. His son’s future was secure, and the Source Dragons would soon know of the disturbance in the balance. Peace settled over him as he closed his eyes and accepted his fate with dignity. “May the unforeseen vicissitudes of fate soon take your damned souls,” he defiantly whispered with his final breath. In the end, the death of the Arcs would not be in vain.

After discarding the remaining wolf warriors, the siblings departed from the Northern Spiral. The deed was done, the crown was obtained, and the mighty temple fell to ruin and flames.

Chapter Text

Upon the rugged coast, the rhythmic roaring of waves echoed and bounced off the rock faces of the high obsidian cliffs. The air was thick with the brine and tang of the sea. Rox emerged out of the coastal woods and stepped into the orange light of the late afternoon. Her shoulders slumped, carrying the weight of a fruitless day. Her hunt in the forest yielded nothing, and her mood was as grey as the distant storm clouds forming on the horizon.

She made her way to the formidable building in front of her that served as her temporary accommodation. Perched with defiant permanence atop the cliff stood a large Theroxian monastery. It was not merely a building but a small, obdurate remnant of a once staggeringly powerful and notoriously ruthless sect of anarchists and cultists from ancient times. Its foundations were seemingly fused with the bedrock, partially embedded into the cliff face and the raw, natural stone. The surface structure was beige-colored with patches of dark brown staining from age. Its design reflected the stern discipline, the boundless pride, and the dark purpose that characterized the infamous Theroxian cultists from former times. Several pointed spires, capped with weathered copper, reached towards the sky. Rows of lancet windows seemed to blot out the light and instead eye the world with suspicion. The passage of countless centuries was etched into its being. Despite the erosion and weathering in the stone and rock, the edifice remained as a marvel of ancient craftsmanship that stood the test of time.

After making her way across the windswept meadows, Rox climbed up the dozen stone steps to the sheltered portico. The building still held its familiar, elegant design that spoke of the forgotten grandeur and dark ingenuity of the Theroxians. Upon closer inspection, the architecture was most prominent in the massive, fluted columns flanking the main entrance. She approached the tall, arched mahogany doors and turned the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. A wave of mild exasperation washed over her. She sighed, seeing that her brother had once again locked the door, despite the isolation of their location. With the back of her hand, she rapped on the hard oak. After a moment, Nokt let her in and shut the door behind her with a heavy thud. His gaze traveled down to her empty hands.

“You didn’t bring back anything?” he asked, his voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of disappointment.

“This body isn’t exactly designed to hunt. What did you expect? Besides, there’s barely anything in that forest,” Rox replied.

She could feel her brother’s vexation as he exhaled.

Leaving the austere foyer behind, they proceeded down into the depths of the monastery. The high-ceilinged hallways stretched like cavernous tunnels. Candles, held within wrought iron sconces, cast flickering shadows that danced along the corridors. Inscribed into the high stone were ancient text and symbols, all in the Theroxian language that once spoke of the civilization’s origins, rites, and records but were now rendered cryptic and inscrutable by time. Interspersed among the indecipherable inscriptions were bas-reliefs and the limp hangings of threadbare arras, containing symbols and scenes. They depicted appalling narratives and vignettes of savage brutality, fervent worship, the dark origins of the order, grim rituals, and the founding of the forbidden magics. The floor was paved with worn, cracked flat stone. On the stony foundation lay withered, faded carpets and war rugs, once immaculate and woven in sanguine and sable, emblazoned with images of harrowing, chaotic epochs. To either side, grand staircases curved upwards into the dimness, leading to the upper floors that were just as corroded and desolate as this one. Above them, on the vaulted ceiling, intricate stone ribbing converged upon carved bosses, positioned at intervals, delineating scenes of conquest and bloodshed.

They reached the refectory. Long, identical tables, scarred and heavy, stretched across the room, flanked by rows of chairs carved from wood so dark it seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it.

Rox lingered by one of the tall, arched windows. The glass was thick and dusty, distorting the view slightly, but it couldn't diminish the precipitous drop below, where the high walls plunged into mist and the sea churned against inhospitable cliffs.

Here, suspended between the solid rock of their refuge and the chaos below, her thoughts often drifted to those who had once inhabited this place. She had to wonder what the flagitious faction of Theroxians would have thought about the world now if they were still active. Of how they would feel if they returned to the world and what they would do. Would they continue their cause of chaos or start anew and live in quiet and peace? She shook away her academic pondering. A cold certainty, heavy as the stone beneath her hands, told her that the cult was long gone, buried in ashes and dust, silent echoes in a world that had moved on, yet perhaps, in its core nature, hadn't changed at all. The sea below seemed to mirror that thought— forever restless, forever the same.

“When are you going to stop locking me out?” she asked, turning from the window with weary fondness, tapping a foot on the cool stone floor.

Nokt offered a languid shrug. “It’s a force of habit. I can’t help it,” he said, his tone even, almost defensive.

Rox let out a short huff. “There’s no one around for miles,” she pointed out, gesturing to the barren cliffs.

Nokt’s mouth tightened. “You can never be too careful. Especially now of all times,” he stated, his voice losing its earlier lightness, becoming edged with a familiar, hard gravity.

Rox nodded, agreeing with his customary caution. She couldn’t blame him for his perpetual vigilance. “True,” she conceded, pushing away the momentary irritation. “But something always happens, no matter how careful you are. There’s always something, isn’t there?”

“When is there not?” Nokt returned dryly.

“How did you know I was at the door?” she inquired.

“I heard you outside. It’s the way you walk. I could never forget the sound of your stride.”

“What if someone mimicked it?”

He scoffed lightly. “I’m not that paranoid,” he protested, though his gaze shifted momentarily towards the empty entryway.

“Yes, you are,” she stated flatly.

“Yes, I am,” he quietly admitted. “I just wish you were, too.”

“I am,” she replied. “But only when it’s necessary. This,” she added, glancing around the quiet refectory, “is a day of rest. All this training we’ve been doing must be exhausting for you.”

“How else am I supposed to prepare for the tournament?” he asked, his voice losing its brief softness, snapping back to the tautness of purpose and readiness.

“You should relax while there’s still time,” she gently suggested.

He met her gaze, his eyes holding the residue of countless nights spent awake, listening. “How do you think we survived all those years in the wild?” he asked, his voice dropping slightly.

“Which years are you referring to?”

His gaze held hers, unwavering. “You know exactly which ones. I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

Rox nodded slowly, seeing his point. “By staying vigilant,” she finished, acknowledging his point.

A grim line, sharp and deep, formed on Nokt’s face. “And you wonder why I stay awake at night and lock these doors.”

“For good reason. Just like all that time ago,” Rox mused.

“Well, some things never change.”

“What does?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me neither. Probably nothing.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“I doubt anything ever will.”

Rox turned back to the window, drawn again to the turbulent seascape, lost in the formation and receding of the rough swells. “Things were different back then,” she mused distantly. “So were we.”

Nokt shook his head slowly, a profound weariness settling over his features, deepening the lines around his eyes. His voice hardened, becoming flat and resonant in the echoing space. “No, sister. Nothing’s changed since then. I shouldn’t have expected anything different compared to our time. The world hasn’t changed one bit, and neither have the people. It’s always the same, and it always will be, even after we’re gone. One year from now, or one million, it makes no difference. It’ll always be the same.”

Rox glanced upward, watching the fast-moving clouds scud across the sky.

“Do you think things will ever change?” she asked quietly.

“No. And I very much doubt they ever will,” he added dully, with utter certainty. He turned towards her. “Do you?”

“No. I just thought I’d ask. Do you wish things would?”

A beat of reflective silence stretched between them. For a moment, Rox saw something unreadable fill Nokt’s eyes, a ghost of longing perhaps, but then it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He looked away, towards the dust-filled air above the empty tables. “No. It may look like it at times. Like things are normal. A paradise here, peace and calm there. But you can’t hold back the tide. No one can.”

“Anyone in this world who thinks that they can is a complete fool. Like all those champions and masters back in our time. Today is no different. The protectors of these lands are all powerless to maintain order in the face of this. It’s quite astonishing to me that these people have learned nothing from history. No, I take it back. It's funny,” she remarked with bitter amusement.

“Certainly not to the parties concerned,” Nokt said.  

Rox chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t be laughing if I were repeatedly banging my head against a wall. I almost feel sorry for those hapless fools. Almost.”

She pointed towards the far end of the hall where the kitchen lay. “Shall we have some tea?” she offered.

“Why not?” he agreed, his voice losing some of its edge. “Just try not to burn it.”  

Rox flashed a brief smile. “No promises. This was always Drix’s specialty.”

With their prepared beverages in hand, they walked through the derelict halls to a sturdy balcony. Resting their arms on the cold stone balustrade, they sipped on their tea and watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon. The sable curtain of night would soon descend upon the land. From their vantage point, they beheld the vast ocean stretching endlessly before them and the powerful, frothing waves that crashed against the rocks far below, sending plumes of spray high in the air. For a long moment, they reveled in a grimly satisfying silence, punctuated only by the roar of the sea and the cry of distant gulls. Intoxicating, shameless pride bloomed within their hearts for slaying the two tribe guardians and attaining their crowns, a feat that few dared even to dream of, let alone accomplish. But they could not bring themselves to fully bask in their victory prematurely, as only one crown remained.

A sliver of respect pierced the siblings’ hearts. They quietly acknowledged, however fleeting, the Arcs who accepted their fate, fought with valor, and perished with honor and dignity. For few of the Five’s foes chose how to die, and even fewer knew that their deaths had been for something greater than themselves.

Rox occasionally kept a watchful eye on Ras’s whereabouts and at times monitored the ninja from afar. Fortunately, the tiger was still absent from the Shadow Dojo, no doubt training his recruits in the brutal tenet of strength and the teachings of Shatterspin. There was still time, but the siblings had a feeling that it would soon be up. As of right now, they were close to the border of the Land of Madness. Somewhere beyond the dense forests was the matriarch of the mountain dragons, who willingly withdrew from her tribe and isolated herself for their safety. Noble, but mistaken, nonetheless.

Nokt watched the breaking of the waves against the cliffs and how they slowly, inexorably, eroded the stone and rocks. One day, these cliffs would collapse and return to the sea. It was a stark reminder to him of the inevitability of time and the impermanence of all things, even the pseudo deities of power that presumed to rule over all of reality.  

The sunlight filtered through the parting clouds and sparkled like a thousand diamonds scattered across the distant, tranquil water. Even in this brutal world, there were hidden, ephemeral moments of serenity. Rox quietly admitted to herself that the seascape before her was indeed breathtaking, for she held little memory of the oceans and the breaking of waves after all those long, harrowing years of imprisonment.

Miles away down the coastline, nestled in a secluded cove, was a village of sea wolves. Torches blazed, casting dancing shadows on the surrounding cliffs, and tables were set up on the shore. It looked like a full congregation down there, likely for an ancient traditional celebration or special event. The laughter of children echoed across the cliff walls as they swam and hunted for food in the bountiful ocean and ran together on the golden sand, carefree and unburdened. They all looked so free and so happy. But Rox knew better. This was merely a state of oblivion from the harshness of the world. The whole world lived in a mirage of peace.

As she watched the tribe, a ghostly temptation seeped into her heart. The sight before her was an echo of a life that was lost long ago. Sometimes she dreamed of it in the quiet hours of the night. As much as she tried to suppress it, the longing still lingered, a stubborn ember that somehow refused to be extinguished over the years despite her best efforts. Images of forgotten bliss flashed before her mind’s eye. Flourishing grasslands stretched for miles all the way to the horizon, like an endless emerald ocean. Radiant rays of the midday sun shone upon the tall swaying fields, illuminating the grass in a golden glow. Winding through these fields were calm rivers of clear, pure water with surfaces like polished glass that reflected the vast blue sky above. She and Nokt would lie on their backs for hours in serene silence and observe as the clouds drifted lazily above, morphing into fantastical shapes. Every breath they took felt like a promise of eternal peace.

Deep down, in the hidden chamber of her soul, the treacherous yearning tugged at her to go back to that life of happiness and calm and remain there forever. To just let go of the burning ambitions that consumed her and focus only on the present instead of constantly planning and scheming about the future. But she refused. To turn back would be to go against everything she believed in. Her life, her purpose, and everything that she ever did would all be wasted if she did so. Still, there was no harm in reminiscing.

“Do you remember when we used to go to the boiling beaches in the summer?” she asked, her voice carrying an almost imperceptible wistfulness that she rarely allowed. “The water there was just perfect. Not too hot, but not too cold either. And the sunsets… Ah, those were to die for.” She didn’t even notice the small, involuntary smile forming unbidden on her lips. “Do you ever wish we could see those again?”

“No, not really. That was eons ago. I wouldn’t think about such pointless things,” Nokt said tonelessly, devoid of any warmth.

Rox’s smile faltered, then dissolved completely. She blinked away the memories. That pastoral, idyllic life was an unattainable dream for her and the rest of the Five. The resumption of their quest was inevitable, a relentless tide pulling her back into the current of violence and ambition. She sighed, seeing that she couldn’t even enjoy this quiet moment of respite. But then again, it never lasted long. All that lay ahead for them was the endless cycle to which they were inextricably bound. Even if they wanted to, it was too late for them to veer from their predetermined path, which led to one inevitable end that their mortal eyes could not foresee.  

They believed strength was all and became obsessed with it. Their singular focus, however, had rendered them weaker. Not physically, but in other ways that they couldn’t comprehend. Subtle aspects that eluded them. They were emotionally unstable, mentally fractured, and spiritually barren. Strength didn’t always roar; sometimes it whispered. It manifested in a myriad of forms, and the Five’s narrow-minded worldview blinded them to these other sources. They were so focused on gaining power when ironically, they didn’t even hold any power over themselves. The whole world was a chess game, and they were unknowingly serving as pawns for a king. Their souls were no longer in their keeping alone, and the time for bartering them back was long gone.

The two set aside their cups and seated themselves. Shivering from the cold air, Rox lit up the small fire pit.

“Ever since we were freed, I’ve been having this recurring dream,” Nokt said, a subtle tremor in his voice betraying the bedrock of his usual stoicism. 

But Rox didn’t seem to catch the subtle nuance. Her eyes lit up as she relished the thought of Nokt’s triumphs, even if they weren’t real. “What’s it about? Did you tear down Mount Egalt?” she guessed.

Nokt’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, his gaze seemed to fix on something far beyond the firelight. “I was drowning,” he abruptly interjected, cutting through her eager speculation like a cold blade.

Rox’s imagination stilled, and she fell silent. Her smile quickly morphed into a frown, and the anticipation drained from her face, leaving only surprise. “Oh,” she murmured, her tone deflating like a punctured balloon. “I’ve never known you to fear death.”

“I still haven’t,” he replied, his gaze drifting out towards the sea. The fire crackled, spitting sparks into the night, but it couldn't dispel the sudden chill that had seeped into their circle. “It wasn’t just me. It was all of us. No matter what we did, we couldn’t reach the surface.”

Rox tilted up her chin. “Are you worried about us dying? Or being defeated? Because we won’t. We’re not going to let anything stop us again,” she assured with that usual smug confidence of hers that radiated from her like a tangible aura.

Nokt met her gaze. “I know that. And we’ll continue to do what we do best. But no, it’s not death I’m worried about. I feel like something has always led us to this point.”

Rox scoffed at the notion, waving a hand in the air. “Well, that’s utter nonsense. All our challenges and setbacks have only made us stronger. We made our choices, and it’s how we came together in the first place.”

“And now we’re divided.”

“But we’ll soon be back together,” she flashed a reassuring grin.

But Nokt didn’t return a smile. He shifted his weight and looked out at the distant rain clouds. It was so quiet without the rest of the Five. The silence itself seemed to amplify the feeling of absence, pressing down on them, an empty space where laughter, arguments, and the simple comfort of other breathing bodies should have been. He’d grown used to the lack of their comrades’ physical presences during their journey, but the quiet felt different now, louder, more profound. He found himself listening to the wind, to the fire, and the distant waves, acutely aware of the lack of their voices. It was a strange quiet, and within it, a thought had begun to emerge, insidious and cold. A question that had been circling the edges of his consciousness for longer than he cared to admit, born of weary frustration and a chilling pragmatism that felt increasingly undeniable and tempting.

“I’ve been wondering,” he slowly began, “why are we trying to free them when we have each other?”

Rox jerked back as if she had been struck. A humorless laugh burst from her. “What did you just say?” The laugh was gone, replaced by a stunned silence that stretched between them.

Nokt turned back, holding her gaze directly with this coldness in his eyes that made her shiver slightly despite the heat of the flames. Her eyes, wide with shock, searched his face. He really meant it. There was no flicker of doubt, no signs of guilt in what he had just voiced.

The two of them were always the sharpest edges, the most powerful and capable of the Five. The others were valuable in their own ways, necessary components of the whole. But to Nokt, the other three have always been weaker, less ambitious, and less shrewd. They were committed to their collective endeavor, but at times, he saw them as dead weight that should be left behind. The cause was what mattered most, not them.

Rox couldn’t help but begin to question why they were even traveling across the merged lands and going through all this trouble to free the others in the first place. A knot, tight and cold, formed in her stomach. She saw her brother’s point on a purely pragmatic level. His logic was sound. They weren’t obligated to the others. They didn’t owe them anything. Right now, they could turn back and begin their journey to the First Land. But something deep inside her recoiled, this deep-seated sense of wrongness that she couldn’t fight off. She couldn’t agree with her brother. This would be betrayal. Forsaking them was something she couldn’t see herself living with.

“Are you saying we should just leave our brethren in the Netherspace? Forever?” she inquired, her tone carefully neutral, though a tremor of disbelief ran through it.

“Do you think we should?” he asked back, searching for any sign of agreement in her eyes.

The words made her skin prickle like frost forming on glass. “Just answer my question,” she insisted, narrowing her brows as she fixed him with a demanding stare.

Nokt paused for a long moment, then nodded his head. “Yes, the thought has crossed my mind. More than once.”

“Why? Where is this coming from?”

Nokt let out a short, harsh breath before releasing the dam of petty frustrations he’d been holding back. “I’m getting tired of hearing them. They’re always pestering me. And I’m tired of Zarkt and his whining and his infuriating voice! He keeps arguing with me and the others, asking me again and again when we’re going to free them. I’m starting to think we’re just wasting our time out here. With all the power of chaos in our possession, we won’t need them. We never have.”

Seeing his patent selfishness in full display, heavy disappointment settled upon Rox. This wasn’t the plan, and he was deviating from it. Why now, of all times, when they were so close to the finish line? She let out a long sigh. “That’s not true. And you know it.”

“You’re entitled to your own opinion.”

“It’s not an opinion. It’s the way it is. Stop focusing on yourself.”

“I’m focusing on what we set out to do long ago.”

“If you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’ve been gone for one? Two weeks? And here you are, losing sight of what needs to be done.”

“I’m being objective,” he insisted.

“Objective at the wrong things,” Rox scoffed. “I know what you really want. Revenge is so nugatory. It’s just one stab of a sword at someone you hate, and then it’s over. It might have made you feel better and eased your mind, but that never lasts, and before you know it, everything is the same. But what did that accomplish in the world? Nothing. Just one more soul sent to the hereafter.”

“Which is what I am going to do when we return to the dojo,” he said through gritted teeth, clenching his fists.

“I can’t believe it…” Rox muttered, shaking her head. Her eyes held a sharp, knowing glint. “You were the one who told me we need Ras alive and present until the tournament is over,” she keenly reminded.

“Well, the plan’s changed,” he stated with a dismissive shrug.

“No,” she countered, her voice dripping with a just-perceptible layer of cool sarcasm. “Nothing has. One step at a time, remember?” she censured, holding up the mirror to his current hypocrisy.

“I don’t need a reminder,” Nokt snapped, his eyes flashing with irritation.

“Yes, you do. And I just did. You can thank me later when your head is clearer.”

Nokt exhaled a puff of disdain, twisting his body slightly away from her. “No, I won’t. I probably won’t even remember you told me that.”

“I think you will. You should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about leaving them.”

“Well, I’m not. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can get this ridiculous thing off me. I can’t stand it for much longer.”

“You know that’s not going to happen.”

“How would you feel if you had this device strapped to the back of your head?”

“Angry. At myself. One slip-up, and here you are, with that thing on you. You should be angry at yourself for letting this happen,” she stated icily, pointing a finger at him, her expression stern.

Nokt pounded a fist into the armrest. “I am!” he barked, his frustration boiling over.

Seeing her brother’s aggravation, she rolled her eyes. “Compose yourself,” she reproved. “If anyone should be complaining, it’s me. You don’t see me whining about this body I’m in, which I loathe in case you didn’t notice. Now, there’s a reason why we need to free them. I would very much like to return to my real body. I mean, just look at me! I can’t be feared when I look like this!” she exclaimed disdainfully, throwing her hands up in exasperation, gesturing to her reaved body with theatrical flourish. “I don’t want to remain in this flimsy meatsuit forever,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Did you ever think of that?”

“No,” Nokt said, his anger momentarily subsiding, replaced by a trace of understanding.

Recognizing his disregard, a long, heavy sigh left her. “No, of course you didn’t,” Rox grumbled, dragging a hand through her red hair.

"Sister," he began, his voice softening, "why are we even trying to free them?"

“Isn’t it obvious? The two of us alone cannot conquer all of creation,” she answered.

“Yes, we could,” he replied.

Rox shook her head, frowning deeply. “No, you don’t understand. We couldn’t, even if we tried.”

“We haven’t tried yet,” he argued, a stubborn set to his jaw.

“And we won’t. Not without them,” she emphatically reiterated, shooting a fierce glare at him. “Because such an attempt would be futile, even if we gained the rest of our powers. Do you see what I mean? Strength in numbers.”

She broke off, her frustration now aimed inward at a puzzle she couldn’t solve.

“But beyond that, I’m not quite sure what it is that keeps us all together. I feel like I know at times. It’s there at the tip of my tongue, but whenever I think of it, it always escapes me, and I’m left blank. Like right now. What do you think?” she asked, her gaze seeking a different kind of answer from him now.

He took a moment to contemplate. “Well, we share the same goal and a common enemy. And we’ve worked well to bring our conquests to fruition.”

Her lips thinned and she gave a low, condescending chuckle. “That’s certainly up for debate,” she muttered under her breath.

Her mind replayed the countless times Zarkt and Kur were locked in their perpetual, tiresome arguments that seemed to drag on for hours. Then there were Nokt’s gratuitous chastisements aimed squarely at Drix. Unlike Zarkt, whose infuriating nature stemmed from his blatant disregard for others and his friction towards Kur, Nokt’s was a colder, more deliberate brand of cruelty. He belittled the insect out of sheer pettiness just to make himself feel superior. In these moments, her brother was as grating as Zarkt. Yet, despite the frequent bickering and strife, the group hadn't dissolved.

“I don’t think anyone else has ever really understood us, like those three,” she said distantly. Softness glazed over her hardened eyes as she stared into the fire.

Throughout their travels, they never once stopped to think why they were even executing their clandestine plan. They could have easily abandoned the rest of the Five and gone straight to the Shatter Dragon to reap the rewards all for themselves. Yet, here they were, advancing to the final crown. Something just kept them going to complete their plan until it was done. Whether it was out of their dependence on them, the value of numbers, or the small glimmer of care that was buried in their hardened hearts, they didn’t know. Or perhaps they did, and deep down, they didn’t want to face the truth that their volatile alliance had become something more than mere convenience. The others weren’t bound by blood, yet they chose not to leave them as if they were all part of the same twisted family.

“Do you recall when our mentor sent us to the Diamond Glaciers to crush the polar bear tribes there?” Rox asked.

Nokt grimaced, his fur bristling slightly as the cold, unwelcome memories came back. “Oh, how could I forget?” he groaned. “I’ve never felt so cold in my entire life. Just thinking about that place makes my paws ache. Twenty days of nothing but wind and snow. I hope we never visit there again.”

Speak for yourself. I’d like to, Rox thought, her eyes narrowing with a reminiscent gleam. She rather enjoyed that bone-chilling coldness. Being close to death, whether it was in the heat of battle or enduring the inhospitable elements, was what made her feel most alive. Though a small, grudging part of her agreed with her brother. Being blinded by whiteouts for hours at a stretch had been an unpleasant experience. It wasn’t an ordeal she was eager to repeat anytime soon. Meanwhile, the rest of the Five were out at the boiling beaches, raiding the local coastal villages and drinking coconuts from the palm trees. They, of course, had the luxury of the sun, something that Rox had harbored fierce jealousy and longing for at the time.  

The Diamond Glaciers were a gauntlet of suffering, a trial by frost that tested the very limits of their physical endurance. They endured the frostbite that numbed their extremities, the blinding snow that erased the world, and the constant threat of the treacherous terrain and the cracking of ice beneath their feet. To them, it seemed to be endless days of cold misery. They would have rather faced legions of foes in glorious combat than venture into the desolate polar region. So many times, they wanted to turn back, abandon their mission, and seek refuge in warmer climes. But they had given their word and went all the way to complete their grim task.

“We could have frozen to death. Remind me why he even sent us out there to begin with,” Nokt said, still lost in the frigid memory.

“Well, the tribe stole one of his collections of ancient weapons, or so he claimed. He was quite adamant that we retrieve it.” Rox paused, frowning slightly. “I’m still not sure how they managed to steal it." The practicality of a remote tribe pilfering from their formidable mentor had always seemed implausible to her.

“Did we ever recover it?”  

“I believe we did. But that doesn’t really matter. We traveled hundreds of miles through that snowy wasteland, all for the sake of a handful of ancient weapons which I could have just as easily replicated. True, we could have broken our word to him, but we didn’t. When we handed him his collection, and I looked in his eyes, it was all as clear as day to me. He just put them back where they belonged.”

“Our mentor’s ways have always eluded me.”

“He always had instincts about the future. That’s how he taught us in the first place. But it wasn’t about retrieving what was his. He was trying to teach us something. He had given us one of the most priceless lessons in life.”

Rox paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. “Do you know what that was?” she asked, giving her brother an arched look.

“No,” Nokt said bluntly, his eyes fixed on the flames.

“Of course, you didn’t,” a touch of exasperation coloring her tone.

“In fact, I never knew that was his intent until now,” he admitted. All he could mostly remember was the heavy snowfall, the dangerous traversal on ice, and the ever-present threat of avalanches thundering down the slopes, burying everything in their path. Never did their mentor mention anything about a lesson to them.

“What a surprise,” she retorted dryly. “Always focusing on the wrong things, I see. You should learn to be more patient and attentive, like me.”

“Well, I’m not you.”

“No, you are not. No one will ever be me, just as how I can’t be you, and I don’t want to be. You are like how you think and act. The same applies to me. To all of us.”

“We wasted twenty days of our lives. It’s as simple as that,” he concluded.

Rox shook her head. “Nothing is ever so simple. Where you see one thing, I see another. It’s all a matter of perspective. You just need to know where to look. Unlike you and the others,” she said, a note of condescension creeping into her tone, “I actually paid attention to our mentor’s lessons and took his wisdom to heart. It’s not my fault you never had enough brain cells to identify them,” she proudly declared, a smug, unabashed grin spreading across her face.

“Yes, yes. No need to remind me of all the times you were treated as the teacher’s pet,” he muttered, rolling his eyes with blasé familiarity born of countless similar exchanges. In their youth, Rox’s ego burned as brightly as a supernova. She was fiercely competitive and frequently bragged to the other members, especially Zarkt, about how superior she was in the dark arts of Theroxian, taught by their mentor. She reveled in her superiority in the forbidden magics, often flaunting her progress ahead of the others and deliberately showcasing her natural talent, leaving them to flounder in her wake. Contrary to her brother’s belief, their mentor never favored her above the rest of his students despite her intellect, her voice of leadership within the group and her mastery in magic. Many a time, she made patent attempts at ingratiating and appeasing him but yielded no result. His teachings were strict, demanded rigorous discipline, and at times seemed cruel and harsh. But ultimately, he did it for the Five’s benefit, to harden them in flesh and spirit, and train them to become the most resilient, fearless warriors. The memory of their youth was still a well-worn groove in their minds.

“Regardless, he was trying to impress upon us to value loyalty above all else. Even in the face of adversity. When it seems impossible. Maybe that’s why we’re all still together.”

The quiet sincerity in her tone pricked at the surface of Nokt’s current discontent. Was their loyalty still a bond, or had it become a tether holding them back? He felt a tightening in his chest, a conflicting blend of ingrained habit and rising cynicism. The thought slipped out before he could catch it. “But should we remain this way? Frankly, I sometimes think we would be better off without them.”

“Would we? What makes you say that?” she probed, leaning forward.

“You know those three. Zarkt is always so loud, demanding, and reckless. All bark, no bite,” he grumbled. “Sometimes, I wish we could just silence him forever.”

A reluctant chuckle escaped Rox. “Well, I can’t fault you there.”

“I can’t stand Drix. He is too sentimental. Too soft and weak. We don’t need someone like that,” he continued, his words weighted with his undefined, persistent dislike towards the insect.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rox retorted. “If he was listening to you right now, he would certainly beg to differ. As do I. I’ve lost to him in our sparring matches more than I’ve lost to you. What does that say?” she asked rhetorically, undermining his entire premise.

Nokt said nothing. There was nothing he could say to that. Her words stung his pride, and there was no clever retort or deflection he could offer.

“And how many times has he bested you? You’ve always underestimated him. He just shines in a different way.”

“He’s still weaker than me,” Nokt muttered petulantly, clinging to the one metric he felt gave him superiority over Drix.

“That doesn’t matter,” Rox said, her patience beginning to fray.

“Why not?”

“Because it isn’t your strength alone that is most important. You should know that by now. It’s all of ours, made into one. At least Drix understands this. I’ve never told you this before, but there have been times when he has been as much of a brother to me as you have.”

Nokt scoffed, an incredulous laugh barking out into the firelit space. “You can’t be serious.”

Her eyes held a burning intensity that silenced his laughter instantly. “Am I laughing?” she snapped, pursing her lips into a thin, hard line.

Nokt straightened up, his flippancy evaporating under the heat of her gaze. “No.”

“Look at me. Do I look serious?” she demanded, her flinty eyes boring into his.

He shifted his weight, suddenly becoming acutely uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “Yes, you do,” he slowly said.

She drew in a steady breath. “You should really treat him like how you treat me.”

Nokt grimaced. “That’s easier said than done,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze, tracing the faint cracks of the dull stone floor.

“What did he do?”  

“Who?”

“Drix. What did he even do to make you dislike him for this long?” Rox pressed, hoping to get to the bottom of her brother’s animosity.

Nokt gave her a shrug and a sheepish smile. “Honestly, I can’t remember.”

“Well, it can’t be important then,” Rox concluded. “If it were, you would have remembered. Your feud with him has been going on for far too long. Just let it go. You should be more like Kur. She never lets anything bother her.”

“That’s because she doesn’t feel anything.”

“She just hides it well.”

“When I talk to her, it’s as if I’m talking to a blank space!”

“She has always been a good listener.”

“No, she’s just a walking corpse.”

“You dunce. If she were a corpse, she wouldn’t be walking. That’s all you see. A walking corpse that turns other people into more corpses. But you don’t see her. Or maybe you just can’t.”

“Do you know what I see when I look into her eyes?”

“What?”

“Nothing. There is nothing there. She’s dead inside. We’ve been dragging an empty shell along with us. No wonder Zarkt always argues with her.”

“You talk like you know her. I thought you would after all these years. But you still don’t. She’s not like you.”

“What is she like? You?”

Rox gave a short, humorless chuckle. “Well, we’ve always shared the same fashion and tastes. Other than that, no,” she said, shaking her head repeatedly. “She’s not even like me, or any of us for that matter. But she is one of us. She’s always been rather peculiar, don’t you think?”

“She certainly doesn’t blather as much as Zarkt. At least she knows when to keep quiet, I’ll give her that.”

“Too quiet…”

Rox stared at the fire as she recounted a memory from long ago. She crossed her legs and leaned her head back. Something, a hint of respect or fear, shadowed her face. She let out a deep exhale through her nose.

“I once saw her, back in the Middle East. This was quite some time before we all met her. Did I ever tell you this?”

“No.”

“One night, I was passing on through this small village in the Golden Dunes. I drank at this oasis, and that’s when I smelled her. She moved silently as a shadow; I didn’t even hear her coming. She just walked by me. Didn’t even notice me.”

“How do you happen to remember this?”

“Does Kur strike you as someone you could easily forget?”

“With that ugly face of hers, no.”

“Well, I didn’t. And I don’t happen to remember it. I can see it all like it happened yesterday.” Rox’s lips curled slightly. “These hyenas came on horseback, and then they started drinking there too. She didn’t mind their presence. After a while, they noticed her, and they said something to her. But she didn’t look at them. She didn’t even say a word. She tolerated their presence and soon left. The next day, she went to go eat at this inn, and they followed her there. They kept on looking back at her and whispering. I heard them from a table, so I know she heard them, too. Not once did she bat an eye at them. She just kept on eating and ignoring them. She was leaving, and as she passed them, they said some rather indecent things to her that should not have been said. In my experience, most of the hyenas I’ve encountered in those deserts were harassers and degenerates and these ones were no exception.”

Nokt leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “So, what did she do?”

“Nothing, at first,” she continued, a slow smile spreading across her face. “She simply kept walking past them. Before she left, they said something to her that she just couldn’t ignore. I know I didn’t. She turned and smiled at them and gave them this gesture with her hand to come outside and they followed her into an alleyway. A minute later, she came back and ordered another meal.”

“What do you see when you look at her?” Nokt asked.

“Something other that we don’t have,” she said slowly. “Or maybe… she’s missing something that we have. She’s with us for her own convenience. I don’t think I’ll ever really understand her. But I know one thing. If she were here, she would disagree with your thinking. All this blood and sweat, and we’re going to throw away our efforts just to reach our goal sooner? That’s foolish. The first step is almost complete, so why would we turn back now? It wouldn’t make sense.”

“When you put it like that, no, it does not. Perhaps I wasn’t thinking earlier,” Nokt acknowledged, nodding slowly.

“No, you weren’t,” she firmly reprimanded. “Do you know what happens when you don’t think?”

He winced, glancing away. “Yes, I know fully well what happens,” he muttered, a confession whispered to himself as much as to her, recalling past losses and defeats caused by his haste and impetuosity.

“Our mentor always told us aplenty that rushing leads to failure, and that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. Or do you not recall when Zarkt bit off more than he could chew?” Her question hung in the air, barbed and pointed.

Nokt stiffened. He held up a hand, warding off the memories of Zarkt’s foolishness in their war campaigns. “Please, let’s not go there.”

Rox nodded. She didn't need to say anything else. The look she gave him plainly said, “See? My point exactly!”

“I thought you might say that. If I were you, I would take some time to meditate.”

Nokt stared at her, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief twisting his features. He was a warrior, not a monk. The idea of sitting in silent focus for hours was a complete waste of time to him. "You must be joking.”

Rox sighed, rubbing her eyes as if trying to physically scrub away the weariness this conversation brought her. “I knew you wouldn’t.” The dismissal was soft, resigned. “Do you know what we are? The Five as a whole? Or is that another thing you’ve already forgotten?”

Nokt turned away, crossing his arms across his chest. “I don’t need an explanation as to what we are.”

Rox sat up a little straighter, a steel edge returning to her voice. “Yes, you do.” She leaned forward, compelling him to listen, even if he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Otherwise, you would have already told me. We are a unit. An engine.”

Hearing the unfamiliar term, Nokt gave her a quizzical look. “Sister, what on earth is an engine?”

“It’s this thing that makes a vehicle work,” she explained. “Do you know what a vehicle is?”

He slowly shook his head. “I have never heard of that word before.”

“Well, I didn’t know what it was either until recently. You can thank my host for that information. It’s an inanimate form of transportation. Just think of it like the heart or the brain of a horse. If it ceases to function, the horse dies.”

“That makes more sense. I think.”

“Good.” Rox nodded, pushing the analogy further, closer to the core of her message. “All the parts serve a function and are equally important. If one part is missing, the engine fails. Right now, you’re thinking of yourself as the whole. You shouldn’t. No one ever is. You’re just a part. And so am I. If anything, we would be worse off without the other parts.”

Nokt’s internal resistance flared again, a stubborn refusal to accept dependency. “You don’t know that to a certainty.”

“I do know it to a certainty.” Her voice hardened, leaving no room for doubt. “Look back at everything we’ve accomplished. Our entire realm, brought to its knees. Wasn’t that such a wonderful time? We couldn’t have done it without them. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them.”

Nokt gave her a blank look. “Where are you going with this?”

“Without the other parts, the engine fails. Without the rest of the Five, our plan fails. We gave our word to them. And they are suffering. All we could do was wait and wait. Would you want to wait in Netherspace forever?”

“Certainly not,” Nokt immediately answered.

“Well, neither do they. They wouldn’t leave us in there, and neither will we. You may be right about them. I admit, they get on my nerves too. But you need to stop looking at the wrong end of the glass,” Rox lectured. “In fact, you should be sorry.”

“I am.”

“Then say it.”

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Say it to me. Say it right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Look at me.”

Nokt huffed, then looked directly into her eyes. “I am sorry.”

But his eyes told her otherwise. They lacked that sincerity. That rare warmth. Rox knew when he really meant something from the bottom of his heart. She sighed and looked away. Maybe one day, when he looked back at this moment, he would be sorry. Or maybe not.

“Did you ever consider that I wouldn’t agree to this? That I wouldn’t want to leave them?”

“No.”

“You should have. Just look back at everything we’ve done. The things we’ve seen. The lands we conquered. The hardships we endured. The cause, this life we share together, all these battles we’ve fought is a blood oath to look after them, like they’ve done for us. What we want is not worth it. Not without them. Now of all times is when we should be together in spirit.”

He truly listened to her this time, the impatient energy seeming to drain away, replaced by a stillness that allowed her words to finally break through his stubbornness and selfishness. They were bound by something stronger than blood, their shared history and common purpose. And he recognized that he forgot their bond.

“You’re right,” he conceded, his voice low, a note of reluctant understanding in it. He even allowed himself a faint, self-deprecating smile. “It seems I needed that reminder.”

Rox smirked, the tension finally easing from her shoulders. A glimmer of warmth returned to her eyes. “I’m always right,” she teased.

She then gave him a somber look. “If an eternity of squabbling, fighting, and silent suffering can’t separate us, then nothing in this world can. The only ones who can do that are ourselves. And I don’t want us to be apart. I can’t envision us without them. So, do me a favor, brother. Don’t ever suggest such an idea to me again. I don’t want you to even think about it.”

“Rest assured, I won’t.”

“Promise me. Please?”

“Yes. I promise.”

In unity, they stood strongest. Anything that they felt towards each other beyond their shared purpose and necessary alliance was dissembled and suppressed deep in their jaded hearts. Seldom did they ever show benignity or tenderness towards each other, for they mistook it for weakness. Yet it never left them. However precarious and strained their kinship was, it remained within the Five, keeping them bound together and providing them fortitude.  

“With our combined power, no one will ever defeat us again,” Rox said, brimming with a confident smile. “I don’t think even death could tear us apart, not after everything we’ve all been through.”

“You’re probably right about that too,” Nokt replied, a wry smile touching his lips. “Though, I wouldn’t want to find out that way. Not if I can help it.”

“Neither would I,” Rox agreed, looking out at the sea. “But if it came to that, there’s no one I would rather be with than all of you.” 

The waning sunlight bled across the horizon. Dusk began its solemn retreat, painting the sky in hues of bruised purple and weary orange. Heavy storm clouds rolled in, dark and swollen with the promise of a downpour, blotting out the remaining light with grim, suffocating swiftness. Nighttime crept forth with a deliberate, predatory stride.

Nokt leaned back and tried to bring himself to sleep. For several minutes, he tossed and turned, but nothing seemed to work. Sleep eluded him, and it was all thanks to the device affixed to his head. He began to tug at the control collar, but his efforts were fruitless. Huffing in frustration, he turned to Rox, his sharp eyes noting the tinge of melancholy that clouded her gaze as she distantly looked out at the horizon. With a hard shoulder tap, he jolted her out of her deep train of thought.

“I can’t stand this accursed contraption any longer. Get it off me,” he growled impatiently, nearly perceived as a demand by his sister.

Rox gave a soft tut and leveled a reproachful stare at her brother. With the right spell, perhaps she could remove the device, but doing so would only attract unwanted attention from a certain tiger.

“I’ve already tried,” she replied. “And even if I did, Ras would eventually notice, which means that he will undoubtedly suspect something. We can’t have that now, can we?”

“No,” Nokt grumbled, clenching his fists tightly, as if he were trying to physically hold back the simmering rage within him. “Oh, how I wish I could just end him,” he hissed, his eyes burning with hate. “Just watch, sister. Before this is all over, I will crush him with my bare hands and grind his bones to dust beneath my heel!” 

Rox frowned. This was supposed to be a night of respite. But of course, Nokt couldn’t treat it as such. “You need to stop focusing on him. It’ll only cloud your judgement,” Rox sharply cautioned.

“Easy for you to say,” he snapped, gesturing at the control device in emphasis, “when you don’t have this blasted thing on your head.”

Rox released a sigh, the sound barely audible above the rhythmic roars of the tidal waves breaking against the shore. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a small measure of comfort. "I understand your hatred, and you have every right to harbor such feelings. But we mustn't take any rash actions just yet. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” 

Nokt shook his head dismissively, roughly shrugging off her hand before rising to his feet. “I’ve slept long enough in the void, and all we’re doing now is lingering here,” he insisted, now restlessly pacing around the balcony.

Rox arched a brow, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. “You sound just as impatient as Zarkt,” she ribbed at his prickly demeanor. 

Nokt settled into a scowl. “Well, I’m not,” he retorted with a defensive edge. He was nothing like that impulsive, incompetent idiot. Occasionally, he entertained the notion that the Five would be better off without Zarkt. Their mission would proceed with far greater efficacy without having to drag his heavy weight around that slowed them down at times in the form of his failures. But Zarkt was a blunt instrument, and blunt instruments had their uses. Beyond his practical utility, they would surely miss his incessant boasting and his entertaining banter with Kur. That never got old. The more he thought about it, the more he wished he hadn’t considered the idea of leaving them behind.

“Storm’s coming. If we’re going to attack, we should do it tonight while the matriarch is most vulnerable,” Nokt said.

“Tomorrow is another day,” Rox said, her gaze fixed on the gloaming. “She hasn’t left her territory in weeks. I very much doubt she will anytime soon.”

“There is always the possibility that she could leave her sanctuary and return to her tribe. What if she did that tomorrow? Then you’ll wish you had listened to me,” he added with growing urgency.

Rox slowly nodded in understanding, acknowledging the merit in his reasoning. Now bordering on the side of caution, she looked into the crystal ball. Deep in the rocky lands, the matriarch slumbered. This was the perfect opportunity. They would strike in the dark. A quick and quiet assassination. She stood up and gave him a decisive nod. They could not afford to leave anything to chance. Should the matriarch return to the World Forest, it would take days, perhaps even weeks, to reach there. They didn’t know when the tournament would begin, though they suspected its commencement would be soon. Time was slowly running out, and the formation of the crowns had to be completed before then.  

“Well, you know what our mentor always used to say: ‘If there is a doubt, then there is no doubt,’” Rox recalled.

They waited until nightfall, then left the monastery. Rox led the way down a stone-cobbled path that soon led into the coastal forests. The moonlight quickly faded away, swallowed by the thick canopy overhead. Soon, she couldn’t even see a foot ahead. For the sake of visibility, she kept a flame alit in her palm. She outstretched her other hand, and a faint red glow emanated from her palm as she cast the seeking spell, an unerring tool in her arsenal that guided them to where their final prize awaited. The trek in the dark and the hunt for their quarry felt quite reminiscent of the times when they tracked prey through the dense, untamed forests of the Wyldness.

“Remember when we were hunting for those white-tailed deer, and that snowstorm suddenly hit us?” Rox asked.

Nokt shrugged aloofly. “Vaguely,” he said quietly.

“I thought we were going to freeze to death out there. You were running so far ahead, I could barely keep up. I think you had to carry me home.”

They did not have the comfort of fire at the time. Yet, that night was filled with a warmth that was solely sustained by their shared presence, one that she would never forget. He had saved her, nearly at the expense of his own life. From that moment, she knew her brother would never forsake her. But over the long stretch of time, that warmth that had flown so freely from him became so transient and scarce. Sometimes, often now, it felt like he wasn’t present, and all that remained was this chilling, pervasive emptiness. It was as though there was this invisible distance that grew between them over the years, and there was no way to reach back to what once was. There was only the mission now, and nothing else in between.

Nokt tensed up slightly, heaving out a riled sigh. “Where is this coming from?”

“I can’t say. My mind wanders. Then again, an eternity of time does give you plenty of time to think.”

“True.”

“We were so young and weak back then. Here we are, older and stronger. But it just doesn’t feel the same,” Rox mused, her brows furrowing in thought. She kept her eyes trained on the path ahead, but her mind was lost in the winding corridors of the old, fond memories they shared together. It was quite strange. They had achieved so much more than they could have ever dreamed of when they were children, and yet, they felt like something was missing, something essential that had been lost along the way.

“When you close your eyes, do you ever dream about when we were young?” Rox asked.

Nokt shot a sidelong glare at her. “No. Those times are long gone, so stop talking about it. We aren’t cubs anymore,” he harshly rebuked before quickening his pace. He pushed the memories away, burying them deep within the recesses of his mind, preferring the cold, hard reality of their present mission. Thinking of the past was a sign of weakness, and it no longer mattered.

For a moment, Nokt thought he saw Rox’s eyes beginning to water, but it could have just been a trick of the flame she kept alit. She bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I know,” she whispered.

After hours of traveling in the darkness, they finally approached the forest’s edge. The trees gradually became sparser, and the dense canopy grew farther apart, allowing more beams of moonlight to filter through. The terrain grew less tangled, and the forest understory firmed into hard stone and loose scree. They passed the last of the trees and stood at the fringe of the woodlands. Before them, an openness spread, bathed in the cool, silvery glow of the moon. The wind, which had been gentle in the woods, now blew cool and clean across the land.

The once flat ground sloped downwards, a steep incline of broken rock and earth. Below them yawned a deep, steep-sided chasm that stretched for miles. They began their descent into the gap of the goyle. Loose stones shifted precariously underfoot. Hard, twisted roots clung to the slopes. As they progressed downward, the walls swelled in height, eclipsing the sky.

The pass twisted and turned, offering no clear view ahead. Sharper and cooler than the woods, the air bit at exposed skin. The ground’s surface varied from smooth and flat to jagged and broken. Thick darkness reigned, broken sporadically by the faint moonlight from above. The enclosed steep sides sometimes drew back a little. Their faint, rhythmic footsteps and the steady dripping of water from unseen fissures were the only sounds to reach their ears.

High above, loosened by time or wind, a stone tumbled down the sheer face of the wall and struck the ground below with a sudden, heavy thud. The sound bounced from wall to wall, a rolling echo that filled the ravine. They halted in place and looked up at the towering slopes.  

“Is the matriarch alone?” Nokt whispered.

Without breaking her gaze from where the stone fell, she reached into her pocket and took out her orb. After a moment of searching, she found no other dragons present.

“It’s just her.”

They waited for the last echoes to fade away until they died into silence. Then they continued onward. Their steps were now lighter upon the stone ground, and they moved in a slower, more careful manner to avoid kicking up any rocks or tripping over. For what felt like hours, they pressed on through the ravine.

Up ahead, the narrow passage ended, and the steep, confined sides of the valley widened. A strong, musky odor hit Nokt’s nostrils, one that he was familiar with. He lifted his head up and sniffed the air. “She’s close.” The darkness yielded to a lighter shade of grey. They entered an open clearing with patches of greenery interspersed with the stone ground and large boulders strewn around. There, in the middle of the clearing, bathed in the faint, indirect moonlight, the matriarch slept soundly, her massive head resting on her forepaw. With light, quick steps, the siblings hid behind two large boulders with their backs pressed against them. They peered around the edges, squinting and searching for any twitch or shifted scale. The matriarch’s eyes remained shut, and she kept on snoring lightly.

In the quiet depths of sleep, Eriyeva dreamt, reliving the day when the egg hatched and her daughter emerged, blinking in the dimness of the cave and looking up at her mother with those bright, innocent eyes. In that moment, the matriarch’s heart warmed as the molten rocks deep below the earth as she laid her eyes upon the most precious thing in her life.  

The dream shifted. Eridany was no longer the small, dependent hatchling. She was grown-up, tall, and mighty, standing on the mountain peak of their homeland, bathed in the golden light of the sun. Her scales gleamed like a thousand emeralds and her roar ripped through the mountain air, resonating with the authority of her birthright. Swelling from the valleys and ledges below came the answering chorus. The tribe roared back, their voices raised in loyalty and recognition, affirming their allegiance to their leader. It was a sight of breathtaking beauty, a vision of the future unfolding as it should. Seeing her daughter assume her sacred mantle with undying loyalty and a heart of gold filled the matriarch with an overwhelming sense of peace. She watched, swelling with pride, knowing with absolute certainty that the future of her lineage, the survival of the Arcs, was secure, placed in the capable, noble hands of her daughter. All was as it should be.

The brilliant sun dimmed, then vanished altogether, plunging the mountaintop into premature twilight. The flowers wilted and drooped, and the colors of life faded away. Snow rained down from above and covered the mountains. Eriyeva lit a fire and lay before it. She saw her daughter somewhere off in the distance, in the moonlight looking back at her before going on ahead alone. Then the dream ended, leaving the matriarch with this iciness deep in her bones and a profound pang of sadness that made her chest ache. It was more than just a feeling; it was an intuitive certainty that she would soon be sleeping forever.

Eager for the thrill of battle, the siblings’ hearts beat faster as they stomped twice on the ground. Predacious smiles spread across their lips, and they exchanged a nod, a tacit acknowledgement of their readiness. Nokt swiftly broke cover first and rushed towards the matriarch, with Rox following right behind him. Their closing footsteps cut through the silence, shattering the tranquility, and reached the matriarch’s ears, wrenching her from her rest. Her ancient green eyes shot wide open, fully alert and aware of the evil presences. She let out a startled guttural growl, quickly rose up, and immediately spewed a jet of flames at the two trespassers. Nokt effortlessly cut through the flames while Rox leapt up and shot two deadly waves at the dragon’s head. The first hit her in the jaw and the second knocked her golden crown off, sending it clattering to the grassy ground. The two jumped up, spun into the air, and delivered a brutal, coordinated kick directly to the matriarch’s forehead, a blinding flash of pain that sent tremors throughout her skull.

Eriyeva reeled from the impact, shaking her massive head against the dizzying assault. She took a staggering step back, the taste of copper flooding her mouth. Nokt shot a magenta blast of Brute Force at the dragon’s chest, sending her crashing against the stone walls. Searing agony radiated from her ribs, but her instinct overrode the flaring pain. Only one thought kept her going: the safety of her daughter. Crouching low, she spread her immense wings and launched herself skyward, bursting free from the confines of the ravine, and flew into the night sky as fast and far away as she possibly could.

Rox watched the retreating form of Eriyeva diminish into the distance, her eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and frustration. She expected more of a fight tonight. “Coward,” she spat. But it mattered not. The matriarch didn’t know their identities. The dragon was old, and with the severe damage inflicted upon her, Rox knew for certain that she would soon meet the same fate as the rest of the Arcs. Another impending casualty in their campaign.

“Should we follow her?” Nokt asked.

She stared up at the stars in silent contemplation and took a deep breath of the cold night air. “No need.”  

The two walked over to the crown. The first step was complete. All they had to do now was wait.

The world roared past in a torrent of wind and shadow, a blur of fractured moonlight and racing clouds. Amidst the frigid gusts, the matriarch cleaved through the air. Eriyeva’s immense wings, normally flapping with effortless grace, beat with a frantic urgency that spoke of grim necessity. She was now in a desperate race against time to bring her daughter home. If nothing else, as close to home as possible. Nestled securely within the warm confines of the nursing pouch lay the small, lime-colored form of Eridany. The dragonling couldn’t stop shaking. The cold, knotting serpent of fear coiled in her belly and clung to her like a shroud of ice. One moment she was sleeping, and the next, chaos ensued. The attack filled her heart with a terror that she never knew before. The roars of pain from her mother still rang freshly in her head.

Hesitantly, Eridany pressed her small snout against the opening of the pouch and tentatively peeked her head outward. The immediate sensation was overwhelming. The rush of the chilly air of the upper atmosphere lashed mercilessly at her tender face, and the strong wind blasted against her small, sensitive ears with a high, keening shriek, making them hurt slightly. She looked downward, seeing the sweeping wildlands pass by in a dizzying, impressionistic blur of green and dark rivers. Further ahead, imposing silhouettes began to rise from the landscape, the massive forms of sierras from the Land of Madness looming against the starlit horizon.

The child twisted her neck to glance backward, scanning the receding distance. She watched as the deep, shadowed maw of the ravine grew ever smaller, shrinking to an insignificant scar upon the earth. Her young, keen eyes strained against the darkness, searching for any sign of pursuit or shapes clawing through the sky behind. Thankfully there were none. The inky sky behind them remained empty save for the distant, unblinking stars. The baby dragon closed her eyes and sighed as a wave of immense relief calmed her nerves. The fear loosened its constricting grip, and her trembling subsided, giving way to the stillness of safety and comfort. The danger had passed.

As the dragonling’s gaze returned to her mother’s massive form, she noticed that something was different. Eriyeva’s usual effortless glide was gone, replaced by strained wingbeats. There was a subtle tremor running through her mother’s body. Eridany craned her neck up; her eyes, still adjusting to the rush of wind, immediately registered a stark, unsettling absence. The moonlight caught only the smooth, unadorned scales of her mother’s forehead. Her diadem was gone.

Just now, she noticed her mother’s breathing. Usually, it was even and calm, but now it was labored, punctuated by deep, shuddering intakes of air, as if every beat of her wings cost her precious effort. The wind, pure and sharp, carried something else outside of the familiar smell of her mother. A foreign, distinctly metallic scent hit Eridany’s nostrils, causing a primal alarm bell to toll in her small chest for an inexplicable reason she couldn’t discern. The relief that had settled over her moments before curdled into a gut-wrenching anxiety. She shifted within the pouch, growing restless under the weight of this burgeoning unease. Her small claws kneaded restlessly against Eriyeva's warm hide, filled with great concern and worry for her mother.

“Mama? Are you okay?”

Eriyeva's great head dipped slightly. “Please, do not worry about me. You are safe. That’s all that matters. Now, go back to sleep.”

But Eridany couldn’t bring herself to do so. The attack was too ingrained in her restless mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still see the searing images of the scourges and their red eyes of wicked glee. “Who were those people?” she asked, her voice edged with a fearful curiosity.

“Evildoers. There is no shortage of them in the world. I fear that there are more of them now than ever.”

“Why did those humans attack us?” Eridany persisted, unable to reconcile the brutal, unprovoked assault with her limited understanding of the world. The sheer senselessness of it felt like a cruel jolt to her young mind, shattering her assumptions about how things ought to be.

“I have no intention of going back and finding out. But I suspect that they came for my crown.”

Eridany’s confusion only rose. “We didn’t do anything. Why would they try to kill us when we’ve done nothing to them? It just doesn’t make sense.”

Eriyeva’s voice, usually a comforting rumble, carried the heavy weight of countless years and even more countless sorrows. “Because sometimes in life, there is no rhyme or reason.”

The answer offered no comfort, only a void where understanding should have been. Eridany’s scales tightened, unable to comprehend the nature of chaos. “I still don’t understand,” she whispered, frustration mixing with fear. How could something so horrifying happen without a discernible cause?

Her mother’s head dipped slightly, a silent admission of a shared burden of incomprehension. “Neither do I. And truth be told, I do not want to understand either. It is frightening to know that there is always something out there that could just come crashing into your life at any moment, regardless of what you do or don’t do. We did nothing wrong, and yet, it still happened.”

Eridany shivered, though whether from the cold night air or the chilling truth, she couldn’t tell. A new fear, cold and sharp, pierced through the lingering terror of the attack. The fear of the future, of the unknown. If things just happened for no reason, what horrors lay waiting down the unwritten path? “Mama, what’s going to happen?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. But something will. It always does. It’s just out there, waiting. It could be an earthquake. An invasion of our home. A forest fire. A death. Life is so unpredictable. It always finds a way to throw things at everyone.”  

“Like what?”

“Change. Difficulty. Obstacles. Experiences where good or bad things will happen. You will see, one day. But what is most important is to never stop moving forward. You must face whatever comes your way. Endure it. Never let it break you, no matter how hard or hopeless it may seem. Accept it. Grow from it.”

“I will.”

“I know you will.”

“But mama, people don’t just attack others for no reason. It isn’t right.” Her voice held a plea, a desperate reach for the simple, ordered universe she had always known, where cause and effect were clear, and malice required motive. The idea of gratuitous harm was a foreign, ugly thing that she just could not accept. It felt like a fundamental law of existence, one as immutable as gravity or the cycle of the moons, was being broken before her eyes. How could the world contain such chaotic, baseless cruelty? It simply couldn't be true. Her mind recoiled from the amorphous horror of it.

A deep, sorrowful sound, akin to a groan, vibrated through Eriyeva’s immense frame. “I’m afraid they do. This happens far more than you will ever know, whether it be in the darkest corners of the earth or in broad daylight.”

The thought of evil lurking in the most innocent, unsuspecting places sent a fresh shiver down Eridany's spine. She wrestled with this truth, her mind grappling with a world far darker than she could conceive. Her thoughts spun like leaves in a gale, trying to make sense of the senseless. “I thought… I thought all humans were nice.”

The matriarch couldn’t blame her daughter for thinking this way since she had little experience with humankind. “Oh, Eridany. How I wish that were so. If only people were more like you, this world would be a much brighter, happier place. But alas, it is not. This world is hard on people. It would do you good to know that not all living beings are inherently good.”

“But the ones I’ve met are,” Eridany maintained, clutching onto the few gentle interactions she’d known as if they were the only truth.

Eriyeva felt a pang of guilt in her ancient heart. This was partly her fault. She had tried to shield Eridany, to let her experience only the kindness that existed in the world.

“They are. And I hope those are the only ones you will ever meet. But I have seen the things they do. They can be so cruel, so utterly devoid of empathy. They have committed such unspeakable viciousness and barbarity, not just to us but to so many other creatures, and nature itself. I oftentimes think they act more like animals than we do.”

Cold dread began to sink its icy tendrils into Eridany as she imagined the unseen suffering that her mother alluded to. The simple, naive belief, built on her limited, sheltered interactions slowly began to crumble. “What… what have the humans done to us?”

“I would prefer not to speak of such things. This is not for the minds of the young, such as yourself.” She wanted to preserve Eridany’s innocence for as long as possible, to let her bask in the light like the young should.

“But we were just attacked!” Eridany exclaimed. “I think I can handle hearing this now.”

Eriyeva sighed deeply, understanding why her daughter wanted to comprehend the nature of evil. All her life, she was shielded from the harsh realities of life, constantly surrounded by light and love. Being introduced to the darker side of the world would of course stir curiosity within her. The matriarch knew she couldn’t protect her forever. It was vital to ensure that Eridany was prepared for the world, and she would not get another chance after tonight. Leaving her ignorant and unprepared would only, irrevocably, be for the worse. Ignorance was not bliss but a prelude to destruction. Eriyeva was silent for a long time. The only sounds were the rush of the wind and the thrums of her wings, each beat feeling a little more labored than the last. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and grave. “Very well. Normally, I would wait until you were much older to discuss this. But perhaps tonight is the perfect chance for you to see the true, unvarnished nature of humanity. I think it is good that I tell you this while there is still time.”

The matriarch took a deep, shuddering breath, and as she exhaled, the cruel history spilled out into the cold night. “They have enslaved countless of our kind, forcing us into labor until our bodies, wills, and spirits broke.” Her voice grew harder as she recounted the atrocities she had witnessed from ancient times. “Entire species of dragons have been wiped from history. Completely extinct. They use us as mere resources. Our life force is coveted, and they have siphoned it throughout the ages for power and longevity. Such profane parasites. They strip the scales from us and fashion them into armor and crude tools. They forge weapons out of our fangs and bones and our very skulls have been made into such grotesque thrones for their petty kings. They hunt us for food and sport, for trophies to adorn their halls. They even hunt our little ones. For hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of years, since the dawn of creation, we have warred with them.”

The last sentence struck a chord within Eridany as she now began to understand. The simple, harmonious world she once knew was no more. “Is all of this still happening? Are the humans still doing this to us?” she trembled out.

Eriyeva’s head inclined once more. “Yes. If anything, it is worse now than ever. None of this is new, and it will continue to happen until the end of time. I wish it wasn't, but this is the way of the world. It can be such a beautiful place, full of wonder and kindness, but it is also cruel and terrible.” Like a coin with two faces, forever inseparable.

“These deeds and crimes I have listed are not solely limited to humans. Every living being has the inclination to do good or evil. We are all capable of both and no one is sinless.”

The enormity of this washed over Eridany. No wonder her mother was always so wary and distrustful of the humans. It was all for her safety and the collective good of the tribe. “How can I tell who’s good and who’s bad?” she asked, her voice tight, strained with aching confusion.

“For me, I always assessed people’s natures through their actions. Listen to how they speak. Or watch how they treat others. Sometimes you will know in your heart who they are. But ultimately, this is not a question for me to answer for you. Only you can know.”

Frustration laced Eridany's next words, a childish lament for a world that could never be. “Why can’t people just live in peace like we do?”

“Perhaps it is because they can no longer find peace within themselves. I have looked into the blackened souls of so many beings over the ages, and they are hurt and miserable. Their hearts gnaw with emptiness, and that is why they are so desperate for power and seek dominance over other beings. But this will never bring them true happiness. Their thirst cannot be quenched, and so they are bound by the cycle of violence.”

“What causes people to become… evil?” Eridany asked, the word foreign and sharp on her young tongue.

Eriyeva’s wing flapping faltered for just a beat, a tiny skip that Eridany noticed before her flight returned to the strong, steady pattern from before. “Many things, my child. It depends. The life that they were born into. Their upbringing. I would like to think that it stemmed from somewhere. Perhaps their choices led them to the path they started down. Or perhaps not. I once believed that everything happened for a reason, but I had to learn the hard way that is not always the case. Sometimes, there is no reason or logic. Evil can be so utterly, terrifyingly senseless.”

Eridany, grappling with the profound, unsettling truth, shifted her focus to the ultimate authority she knew. “Can’t the Source Dragons just put a stop to all of this?” Eridany asked, clinging to the hope of the high council and their divine judgement. Surely, they wouldn’t let such suffering continue.

Eriyeva’s head tilted slightly, a sigh of resignation escaping her nostrils. If only her daughter’s hopes were true. A faint, almost inaudible grunt slipped past the matriarch’s lips. “They are aware of everything that has transpired here in the mortal world. I believe they have the power to intervene. If they could, or wanted to, they would have done so long ago,” the matriarch stated with absolute certainty. “When I was young, I used to think everything happened according to their divine will. That the fate of all things was in their hands. But it is not. No one can control the flow of life.”

The answer felt like a betrayal. Eridany had been taught reverence and was told tales of the Source Dragons’ wisdom and benevolence. “Why don’t they do something?” Eridany pressed, her confusion rapidly giving way to a frustrated cry. “I thought they cared about us! About the world we live in!”

Eriyeva expelled a shallow breath. “They do,” she affirmed. “But it is a grave mistake to solely depend on them. Total reliance breeds stagnation. Many have done this, and we dragons are no exception. Perhaps they were told not to interfere, or they voluntarily choose not to. Many of my fellow Arcs think they are bound by laws beyond our comprehension. But I believe they permit evil to bring about the overall greater good in the world. They respect free will.”

Suddenly, Eriyeva's airspeed slowed noticeably. A sharp, pained noise, barely suppressed, escaped her. The powerful rhythm of her wings became erratic for a moment before she forced it back into a semblance of pattern, though the immense strain was now evident to Eridany. The cold air seemed to bite deeper now; the strong coppery smell returned, stronger than before.

“Mama! What’s wrong?” Eridany cried out. Besides the howling gales that tore past them, all she could hear now was the hammering heartbeat of her mother, a frantic drumbeat against which her own fear began to quicken its tempo.

Eriyeva’s breathing became labored, each exhale a soft, painful hiss. Her head lowered slightly, her glowing eyes, usually so bright and full of ancient wisdom, were clouded and dulled by pain. “My wounds… they are worse than I thought,” she rasped out before a wet, gurgling cough wracked her frame with violent tremors. “They will not mend.”

The words were simple, but the implication was a monstrous shadow descending upon Eridany. Her heart began to race rapidly, beating against her ribs like a trapped fledgling. A visceral dread, cold and suffocating, engulfed her, squeezing the air from her lungs. “What… what are you saying?” she managed to choke out, her voice a reedy whisper, thin and fragile.

The matriarch lifted her head, her gaze settled on the velvet darkness of the night sky, stretching boundlessly before them. It swallowed the stars whole, an abyss that seemed to mirror the fate she could no longer conceal. There was only cruel futility in attempting to hide the inevitable tide that now claimed her. Her voice, once strained, was now soft with heartbreaking acceptance. “I am dying. These will be my final hours shared with you.”  

Tears, hot and stinging, sprung quickly and welled in the dragonet’s young eyes. Eridany violently shook her head, refusing to accept the terrible reality that lay unfolding before her. “No!” she shrieked, raw with terror. “No, you can’t die! There must be something we can do, or someone that can help us! Or maybe… maybe our tribe can help! They’ll know what to do—"

“My little one,” Eriyeva gently interrupted, a calm, steady current cutting through the frantic waves of Eridany's panic. “They are too far away. And there are no signs of civilization anywhere for miles. I’m sorry, but there is nothing to be done for me. The only thing I can do now is use the last of my remaining strength to get you home.”  

The finality in her mother’s voice was absolute and devastating, crushing the last ember of Eridany’s hope into dust. Overwhelmed, lost, and terrified by the prospect of a world without her mother, she curled up in a tight ball and buried her small face against the warm fur of the pouch. Tears flooded her face, soaking the fur beneath her cheek in dark, spreading patches. Her small frame began to shake uncontrollably, not with cold, but with the force of unleashed grief and the horrifying emptiness opening before her. "Don't go," she sobbed, her words ripped apart by hiccupping breaths and the constriction in her throat. "Please… Mama, please, I don't want you to go.”

Her mother was like the sun in her sky, a source of constant warmth and light, an anchor she had always known would be there, solid and radiant. The thought of going on ahead alone, navigating the vast, dangerous world was utterly unbearable. 

“I’m so sorry my darling,” Eriyeva sighed, her voice thick with sorrow, “but nothing can stop that now. The day always comes when everyone becomes overmatched. Time erodes everything, even the strongest of us, and tonight, it finally caught up to me.”

The heavy silence hung in the air between them, broken by the mournful whistle of the wind rushing past and the strained, slow flapping of Eriyeva's great wings. Every beat felt heavier than the last, a tolling bell in the night. Eridany huddled deeper into the pouch, pressing herself against her mother's side, desperately seeking the familiar, comforting warmth she had always known. Death was a foreign concept to her young mind. All her life, she thought all of dragonkind was unchallenged and they were eternal. But this belief was instantly, brutally shattered, leaving her adrift.

“What… what’s going to happen to me? What do I do? What do I do when you’re gone?”

“Shh. Calm down,” Eriyeva soothed. “Do you still know how to find your way back to the World Forest?” she asked, her voice gaining a sudden, sharp urgency that demanded her daughter’s full attention.

Eridany blinked through the fresh wave of tears, struggling to focus her scattered, racing thoughts. “I… I think so,” she stammered, trying to recall the landmarks and scent signs that marked the long, familiar journey back to their tribe’s hidden refuge.

“Don’t think. Do you know how to get back?” the matriarch pressed.

“Yes, I do,” Eridany whispered.

“Good. Now, listen closely, my daughter.”

Eridany lifted her small head, pushing aside her tears.

Speaking slowly and firmly, Eriyeva began, “When you reach the World Forest, you must tell the others what happened. Tell them everything. With me gone, the tribe will need a steady hand, a clear voice. They will need leadership. I… It pains me so for bringing this upon you, but I must ask, will you take my place as matriarch?”

Eridany’s heart thudded frantically against her chest as the impossible weight settled on her shoulders. She couldn’t fly. She knew nothing of leading or making decisions or protecting the entire tribe. She didn’t even know how to use her elemental power just yet.

“I would never force you to do something you do not want to do, which is why I am giving you a choice.”

But the fear did not take over. The thought of choosing not to take the mantle felt wrong, and it hurt. It felt like she would be abandoning her tribe, like failing her mother in her last moments, and she could not bring herself to refuse. “I will. I will do this. For you. For them,” Eridany murmured hoarsely.

“But do you want to?”

“No. Not at all. But I can’t say no. I just can’t.”

“Daughter, I hope you understand that the role of being a matriarch has never been a mandatory inheritance. If you say no, I won’t be mad or disappointed in you. I will respect your decision, no matter what it may be.”

“I know. But I feel I need to do this. I want to help them.” 

“Are you certain?”

“I am. I just don’t know how to do what you do,” she trailed off, the sheer, impossible scale of the responsibility looming before her like an impassable mountain range.

“You will, eventually. I know you will,” the matriarch whispered encouragingly. “Just promise me this, my child. Promise me you will watch over the tribe. Put them first, always. Protect them, guide them. Uphold the legacy of order that our ancestors fought so hard to maintain.”

Eridany fought against her doubts. Her mother was dying. She couldn’t stop that. This was something she had to do. Something her mother had solely entrusted to her. It was a promise to the fading light that held her, a promise to face the future she was being brutally thrust into. “I promise, mama,” Eridany choked out, her voice trembling but firming with resolve. “I will watch over the tribe like you always did. I’ll make you proud.”

“Hearing you say that alone already makes me so proud of you. More than you will ever know. Thank you.”

But Eridany was still buzzing with worry. How could she possibly lead them? How could she even begin to fill the monumental void her mother would leave behind? The feeling was like being held suspended over an endless, dark chasm, with no wings strong enough to carry her across, only the terrifying drop into the unknown.

“But… but I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to lead like you do. What if I fail? What if I make the wrong decisions?”

Eriyeva understood the depth of her daughter’s fear and uncertainty all too well. It was the fear of inexperience, the fear of responsibility, and the fear of standing alone on a mountain peak she wasn’t ready to climb. It was the echo of her own fears when the mantle had first settled upon her.

“We Arcs are not perfect. No one is. Never aim for perfection. Failure is inevitable. You will make mistakes like I did, many times. But do not dwell on them. The important thing is to embrace them as lessons and learn from them. Grow from them, and you won’t repeat them.”

Despite her mother’s wisdom, the desperation remained within her. The questions kept on pounding relentlessly in her mind. “Mama, I don’t know how to be a matriarch. What am I going to do? How? How do I lead them?” Her words tumbled out, a cascade of panic and inadequacy.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear daughter. You will not be alone in this. Leaf Blade shall be your guide. He will look after you and teach you everything that there is to know. Anything you wish or need carried out for the good of the tribe, he will see it done for you."

“He’s not going to leave me, is he?” the dragonet asked, her question fragile, laced with a deep-seated anxiety.

“No, of course not. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Well, it’s just… dad left us. And sometimes, I see Leaf Blade as my dad, even though I know he isn’t. Is that weird?”

"No, not at all," Eriyeva murmured, a faint, wistful note ghosting into her tone. "In fact, that’s sweet. More than sweet. I never knew you viewed him that way." Her mind drifted, tracing the long arc of her relationship with Leaf Blade. She couldn’t have asked for a more faithful advisor. He stood beside her during the challenges and battles the tribe faced, celebrating victories with quiet pride, offering counsel that was tempered with patience and loyalty. He had been her shadow, her shield, her confidant, never overstepping, always there for her. And now, to think that her daughter saw him through the lens of longing for a father…

"He would be deeply honored to hear that. You should tell him that.” She paused, refocusing on the reassurance her daughter desperately needed.

“Do you know how long I’ve known him?”

“No.”

“Nine centuries.”

“Oh,” Eridany breathed, her eyes widening slightly as the sheer scale of time registered. “That’s a long time.”

“Indeed, it is. He is one of my most trusted servants and a good friend. On the day you were born, he swore to me that he would take care of you should anything happen to me. He will treat you the same way he has treated me. I promise you that he will never, under any circumstances, abandon your side.”

The reassurance concerning Leaf Blade settled upon Eridany, a comforting blanket against the chill of uncertainty. Yet even this solace could not wholly dispel the original ache. “Mama, why did dad leave us?”

A long, drawn-out sigh, more felt than heard, escaped the matriarch. “He made his choice. He chose someone else over us and betrayed our bond. I wish I knew why. Perhaps I was not enough for him.”  

Eriyeva's gaze drifted to the distant horizon, lost in the swirling mists of her fond memories. She remembered the vibrant color of her husband’s scales under the sun, the joyous arc of his flight beside her own, and the effortless grace of his movements. Despite the demanding duties of her paramount role, she always made time to be with him, to fly with him, and share her life with him.

“Will he ever come back?” Eridany asked, clinging to a thread of hope that things lost could be found again, that gaping holes could somehow be filled. That the ache in her mother's heart, and by extension her own, wasn't permanent.

“No. I’m afraid not.”

Eridany swallowed hard, the fragile hope dissolving like mist in the sun. But time would eventually heal her wounds. Another question, steeped in the still-present hurt, formed. “Did he ever love us?”

“Once,” Eriyeva murmured, staring at the distant clouds, remembering the seasons long past with them flying together in the boundless blue for hours. “But sometimes, the hearts of mortals and dragons become restless, dissatisfied with the blessings in their lives. So, they desire more than they already have. All they go after are empty treasures. It’s sad, really.” Her voice grew quieter again, burdened by the simple, tragic truth. “Everything they need is right in front of them, but they lose sight of what is most important in life.”

Eridany remained quiet for a long moment; the gravity of her mother’s words bore down on her mind. Then, as the silence began to thin, a new thought seemed to form within her, bubbling up from the stillness like a hidden spring.

“Mama,” she began, her voice hesitant, “would you have married him?”

Eriyeva blinked, momentarily pulled from the distant landscapes of her memories. “Who?”

“Leaf Blade,” Eridany clarified.

“No, I wouldn’t have,” she stated softly.

The dragonet tilted her head and frowned slightly. “Why not? Is it because he’s younger than you?”

“No. I believe that love defies age. Well, up to a certain point. But our relationship has always been platonic. Besides, I could never bring myself to remarry.”

“Why?”   

The matriarch took a slow, steady breath. “I just couldn’t. I never gave much thought about this until now, speaking it aloud to you. But all this time, I think I was afraid of it happening again. Of opening my heart fully to another, only to be left. I could not bear to feel that pain again. I hope that you may one day find a mate with a good heart who will always open themselves up to you, never abandon you, and protect you above all else. Someone who sees you, truly sees you, and loves you the same way that you love them.”

“I will,” Eridany vowed, taking her mother’s words to heart.

“Daughter, there is one more thing I need you to promise me.”

“Yes, mama. Anything,” Eridany responded instantly, without hesitation.

“Do not go after those two assailants. I absolutely forbid you from ever seeking revenge on them or anyone in this life. It is not the right path, and you will not gain anything by pursuing it but only lose more of yourself with every step down that road. Many have in life, but they have never gained anything from it. It never brought them peace. They only lost more of themselves. Revenge is a poison that makes things worse for everyone. I tell you this, so you do not make the mistake that I nearly made myself once. Remember this.”

“I’ll remember.”

“Good. Someday, judgement will be brought down upon all the malefactors in this world. When your time comes, and you take your place as matriarch, always think of the tribe first. Never rule with ambition, selfishness, or fear. Listen to Leaf Blade and take his lessons as seriously as you are taking my very words at this moment.”

“I will. Mama, I have a question.”

“You may ask.”

“Why do we die?”

“Because that is the way we were made. Death is a part of life, what gives it meaning. Sooner or later, everyone does.”

Eridany's head lifted slightly, her young eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “But I thought dragons live forever.”

“No. No, we do not. No one does. Our lifespans are long and stretch across millennia, but one day, we will all die.” She paused, a shadow flickering across her ancient face. "It is a truth even dragons must face, though we often try to ignore it."

“Where do we go when we die?” Eridany asked.

“The beings of this world have given it many names. There are different versions and interpretations of it. Some call it paradise. Valhalla. Heaven. It is said to be the most beautiful place in all of creation, beyond the grasp of mortal suffering and earthly strife. There is no taint of wickedness there, no senseless wars, no violence, and no pain. There are only pure souls, washed clean of earthly burdens. It is a world without death, without sorrow and suffering, filled with endless peace and beauty and bliss. It is beyond anything conceivable in these transient lands.”

The cold stone of anticipated grief momentarily eased its crushing burden upon her young heart, as a fragile seed of wonder took root. Eridany listened, her small body held rapt within the pouch, every fiber of her being absorbing the words of her mother.

“What does it look like?” she breathed, her voice bright with wonder.

“Imagine light, so pure and unending. Gardens and grasslands vast, stretching into infinities, alive with untold colors that defy description. Rivers with water, so invigorating and full of life, that sparkle so brightly. And grand, celestial cities, built not of stone and mortar, but of precious stones and walls of lucid jasper. There, we shall live in tranquility for all of eternity.”

The images bloomed behind Eridany's eyes, overwhelming the starrk reality of the cold air and the dawning, dreadful knowledge of her mother's failing strength. Now more than anything, she wanted to go with her mother, to see the infinite beauty and perfection of that dwelling place, to not be left here alone to face the uncertain future of the harsh world. A desperate plea, born of sudden, fierce longing, escaped her. “It sounds so wonderful! Can I go there? Can I go there with you? Please?"

“Your soul will ascend there one day,” Eriyeva said softly. “But not tonight. You still have a long life ahead of you. When I am gone, I will be there, waiting for you. But you must walk your path in this world before you join me in the next.”

Eriyeva’s words were a balm and a sword, offering future hope to the dragonet while twisting the present wound. The inexorable future stretched out, cold and empty, utterly devoid of the familiar, comforting presence of her mother's warmth, strength, and wisdom. The thought of waking tomorrow and the next day, and the next, without her, was a raw, gaping wound in Eridany's heart, bleeding chill into the very core of her being. The wind felt colder now, the vastness of the world below, more terrifying. She tightly pressed her face into the warmness of the pouch, inhaling the scent of her mother. "I’m going to miss you. So much.”

“I will, too. It feels like yesterday since I first held you. I have treasured every single moment I spent with you. There is so much I wanted to do with you. I wish I had more time to teach you, to share with you everything that I know. I wanted us to fly around the world so we could both see all the lands of creation. The moment you were born, I felt I would live long enough to watch you grow up and lead in my stead. Now I know I shall not see tomorrow’s dawn break. Our end always comes. We just don’t know when or how. All you can say is you did everything you could. That you lived fully. That you rendered your utmost in life with the time you were given. I wish you could have met my mother. If she were here, she would have loved to see you. To see the strength already in you, the kindness in your heart. I think she would have been proud of me for raising you. I know I am. You are the best daughter a mother could ever hope for.”

Eridany rested her head against her mother’s scales. “And I couldn’t have asked for a better mama than you,” she murmured.

A low, choked sound escaped Eriyeva. “Oh… thank you,” she breathed, thick with unshed tears. “That is truly the sweetest thing you have ever said to me. There is no doubt in my mind that one day, you shall rise to become a matriarch even greater than I have ever been.”

The cold future pressed in once more, tangible now, heavy with the mantle her mother spoke of. Eridany’s small claws instinctively flexed against the pouch material. “But what if I’m not strong enough?” she whispered, her voice laced with doubt.

“You are. I know you are! More than you realize. You shouldn’t underestimate yourself. Strength is not solely defined in the power coiled in your claws, nor the heat of your fire. It’s in your heart, in your mind, in your spirit. Never listen to the voice of doubt. Silence it. If you put your mind to something, you can do it. Trust your instincts. Trust yourself. You were born to wear the mantle of a matriarch.” She paused, struggling for breath. “Remember this my daughter. A leader is not defined by their power, but by their ability to inspire others, to share the same vision together.”

“I want to, but I’m scared of doing this. Of leading all of them.”

“That’s okay. Everyone gets scared. It’s a natural response to being thrust into the unknown. But you are also brave for choosing to do this.”

“Really? I'm... brave? How?”

“Let me tell you something. The greatest leaders aren't fearless. They are the ones who stand tall despite their fear. That is true courage, and you have already shown it to me tonight whether you know it or not. Any dragon your age would not have accepted this role, yet you are willing to do this, even though you do not want to. Even while you were afraid, you still chose this. If that isn’t courage, then I will never know what is. So please, trust me when I say that you are more than capable of doing this. More than ready, in the ways that truly matter.”

The words settled around Eridany, a weave of reassurance and terrifying confirmation. The reality of her mother's impending absence, and the role she must assume, crashed over her anew. A choked sound escaped her, a pained question wrenched from her soul. “Why did it have to be this way?”  

“The why of it does not matter anymore. This never should have happened. You are so young. Too young. You should not be carrying the responsibility of a matriarch at this age. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. This isn’t your fault.”

“I know. But I still am. I had such hope. I thought the Merge would give us… the whole world a fresh new start. A chance at lasting peace, for us to coexist alongside the mortals without strife and conflict so we could no longer conceal ourselves from them. But I was so terribly wrong. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and at peace. I did everything I could to keep you safe, far away from the chaos in this world, and the beings who would bring harm to us. In my heart, I knew one day you would see it, but I never imagined it would be this soon… never like this…” Her voice trailed off, fading into a doleful whisper. She closed her eyes, a single tear tracing a path down her scaled cheek.

The confession hung heavily in the air between the mother and child, a shared weight of dashed dreams. Eridany, processing the immensity of her mother's regret, sought a different solace, a glimpse into a time perhaps less shadowed. "Mama, what was it like when you grew up? Were you happy like me?" she asked softly, tinged with a nascent curiosity.

“Yes, my heart. I was, for a time. Often, I dream of being back there to that time with my mother. I… I can still remember her face. It’s hard not to forget the faces of those you love. I try to look back at all the good memories I had with her, the ones that made me smile. I’m sure one day, you will think back to our time together.”

“I'll always remember you, mama."

"Thank you."

"What was it like when you were young?”

“Calm. The mountains were so quiet, all you could hear was the wind. The tribe today is a far cry from what it was back then. Our kingdom was abundant, as were our kind. We numbered in the thousands and our wings darkened the very sun. Ah, it was such a wonderous time. But nothing lasts forever, and our peace could not be tolerated. When I was your age, we had dragon marshals and law keepers to watch over us. It was such a simple time. So long as they were around, they would protect us. But then one day, I saw one of them get shot down from the sky. And just like that, his life was over in an instant. Even our protectors were never safe. We had order, but we never felt at peace.”

“Why are things different now than before?”

“I don’t think anything has truly changed at all. I used to think so. But history has repeated itself more times than I can count in my lifetime. This is just a continuation. It certainly doesn’t feel any different from when I was a child.”

“Do you think the world will get better? Will it ever?”

“I hope so. Times are worse now for our kind. And I fear for the future. But I do not want you to become cynical and distrustful and think that the world is solely cruel and evil. It isn’t. There is still good out there.”

A faint smile formed on Eriyeva’s draconic lips. She succeeded in the one endeavor she feared most to leave incomplete. Her legacy was secure, albeit a legacy burdened with the heavy responsibility prematurely thrust upon her child. She could die happy, knowing that she passed the torch.

“I pray the Source Dragons watch over you when I am gone.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“Yes, I believe so. When your time comes, we will be together forever.”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you too. More than anything in this world.”

Every moment that passed, Eriyeva's flight grew weaker. The wind felt like a cruel hand pushing her back, mocking her dwindling strength. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each one a reminder of the life slowly ebbing away. But she flew on for hours, pushing beyond the limits of her pain. Propelled by her fierce, unwavering love, she carried her precious child towards a future she would not live to see.