Achilleia, how does he know?

  “I had my suspicions.”

  The Sovereign smiled at him. Even Madam Mari chuckled, finding the situation funny.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Jerome,” he said. “When the key I possessed turned to dust I knew you had taken up the mantle.”

  “But…” he began to say but couldn’t find the words to say.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of the story, hmm?” Madam Mari said. “The story of the Cataclysm. It is said that an immortal from a higher plane of existence came down to ours and split the raging essence birthed by the world into two.”

  “That was Ilyrrah,” Jerome said in realization. “I should have pieced that together.”

  “Hmm. And he left his key with us, Jerome. With the Sovereign at the time. With that key we’ve been able to open a portal to Terra Praeta anytime we wanted,” the Sovereign said.

  “So the Sages who funneled essence into the portal…”

  “They are still needed for the process,” Madam Mari said.

  “You must have known before we left for Terra Praeta then,” Jerome said in thought. “You probably send your Sprouts over there frequently so one of them could take up Ilyrrah’s mantle.”

  “Xerae…” Achilleia cautioned but the Sovereign just nodded.

  “Our Sight as Vorthean light wielders isn’t just for essence. We can see the future too — or at least it makes it easier for us to see the future. Albeit, we can’t choose what we see, only act on what is seen. That’s why I took a chance with you, Jerome. And I was right to.” The Sovereign smiled at him. Jerome could sense no malice in that smile. “No other person has ever been able to get close to the mountain.”

  “Talking about ‘Sight’,” Madam Mari said and her irises turned orange, brightening up her features. “You are quite an old soul, aren’t you? I can see the brightness of your Echo.”

  Jerome was shocked by that. “You know about that too?”

  “Not only that, but you were previously injured in a battle of souls, am I right?” She said, ignoring his question.

  He frowned but nodded. “Yes… yes, I was.”

  “Ah!” She turned to address the Sovereign. “He would be quite popular with the ladies.”

  Jerome’s frown deepened in confusion.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice,” she said to him. “There must have been a time when the opposite sex would have been strangely attracted to you. I’m talking about an attraction they couldn’t control, and a libido you couldn’t control either.”

  She smiled lecherously at him, showing him shiny white teeth. Jerome remembered his days in the void world. Those last few days before he went to the First Heaven were sweet torture.

  “So you mean my fight in the First Heaven dampened my soul or something? And that’s why the attraction stopped?”

  “You went to the First Heaven?!” Madam Mari asked in shock. Even the Sovereign was looking at him in surprise.

  Huh. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that, he thought.

  “No, it wouldn’t have mattered if you didn’t,” Achilleia said. “These are very powerful sacred artists, Xerae. But I can see they have your best interests in mind. No need to hide this from them.”

  Thanks, Achilleia. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied to the madam. “It’s an experience I don’t wish to go through again.”

  “What led you there though?” The Sovereign asked.

  “Dashani. She’s—”

  “I know Dashani. You have your work cut out for you then, Chosen of Ilyrrah.”

  Jerome smiled awkwardly in understanding.

  “Dealing with Dashani is a mission best left for the future, little one,” Madam Mari said. “And yes, in effect, your soul’s aura and intensity was dampened by your fight with her. You don’t feel different or weaker, do you?”

  Jerome shook his head. “No…”

  “That is because you have a very powerful soul. Injury to the soul is not something to be taken lightly, nonetheless. With time you will heal and the ladies will come hovering around you like butterflies to nectar,” she teased, grinning from ear to ear at him.

  “I feel quite insulted, Yun,” another voice said from within the mist, a female voice. “You didn’t care to invite me for such an important occasion?”

  Jerome looked up, startled. He couldn’t pinpoint the position of the individual but the Sovereign, First Elder, and Madam Mari turned to look in the direction opposite him.

  Someone pushed through the fog and Jerome could see the silhouette of a tall woman with two large horns on her head. She slowly floated through the fog until it parted for her. When she came into view Nyx drew in a sharp breath and floated backward a bit.

  Everyone caught her movement but no one said a thing. The newcomer was something to look at. She was tall, as tall as Nyx, with horns that curled backward from the top of her temples. Long black hair flowed down her back and past her wide hips. She had sharp and angular features, which was also more pronounced due to her bestial features.

  Features he could still see evidence of on her forehead, neck, shoulders, and arms, which were covered with a light dusting of shimmering silver scales that shone with an intensity of Sword Force he had never sensed before. Even Blade’s Edge Canyon didn’t feel this intense. Her long silver and black gown wrapped around her like a second skin, emphasizing the size of her enormous bust and hips. Beyond that he could pinpoint nothing else that told of her origins.

  Except for her eyes. Her irises were like silver slits in pools of darkness that consumed all light around them. Her presence was almost all encompassing — just as powerful as the Sovereign’s.

  Jerome smiled as a list of creatures went through his mind. He chose ‘dragon’ as only the Fei could do something as bold as barge into a meeting with the Sovereign.

  “Greetings, daughter of Zatirah,” Madam Mari said with a slight bow.

  “Why are you here?” the Sovereign asked with a scowl. He wasn’t as subtle or respectful.

  “Now, now,” the newcomer said. “You wouldn’t deprive me of the chance to see the Chosen of Ilyrrah, would you, Yun?

  Jerome looked at the Sovereign questioningly. How many people knew about this?

  “You can have your turn with him after I’m done, clone.”

  “Clone?” Jerome muttered in confusion.

  The dragoness — clone, apparently — glared at him and tsked, looking away with a roll of her eyes. She looked more like she was flirting than angry though.

  “Dragons haven’t been birthing children for eons now, for some reason…” the ‘clone’ said, addressing him. Jerome was startled at that but said nothing. “So we came up with a way to clone ourselves. The newt behind you can attest to that.” She gestured to Nyx.

  Jerome pulled Nyx behind him to protect her but the ‘clone’ only smiled at him. Calling a dragon a newt seemed very insulting, even degrading. And that was besides the fact that Nyx was currently masquerading as a human.

  This dragoness had very good instincts.

  Someone else came from behind the clone, a younger version of herself, but still as tall as she was, and with the same voluptuous proportions. Her features were softer however, making her look more human than the first. And her eyes had a less predatory glint to them; the slits of her irises were more like slim ovals and didn’t have the same intensity as the older clone. The dusting of shimmering silver scales on her body added to her beauty as well.

  “This is my daughter,” the clone said. “As you can see, she is a clone like myself. But a different clone.”

  “She’s young,” Madam Mari said. “Should not yet be capable of taking human form.”

  “She’s dragonkin,” Jerome said.

  Everyone stilled and looked at him. The pause in the air was so strong, he felt he could take a piece of it if he tried. Jerome waited for the conversation to continue and he could tell it did, not just with mouths. Whatever conversation they were having with themselves, he was excluded from it. And so was the younger clone, who was looking shyly at him. When he caught her staring, she quickly averted her gaze.

  The dragoness smiled at him with pride in her eyes and pulled her daughter closer. “You are correct, Chosen of Illyrah. She is dragonkin. The first to ever be birthed on this world. I would like you to take her back with you to Terra Praeta.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “What makes you think I can go back?”

  “You are the Chosen of Ilyrrah, are you not?” she said and Jerome nodded. “But you are also something else, aren’t you? Alvric speaks of a monster in the keeping of the Royal Family…”

  What a subtle threat. Jerome held back from trying to defend himself. That would only make him look like a culprit. “Alvric would say anything to get other clans on their side,” he said.

  Madam Mari smiled. “A sacrifice was prescribed for the vulture, but it refused to sacrifice; a sacrifice was prepared for the sandhill crane; by the edge of the river it was offered but nay, it declined; a sacrifice was prescribed for the pigeon, and it gathered the prescribed materials and made the sacrifice… I like him.”

  “One does not fight to save another man’s head only to have a kite carry one’s own away,” Jerome responded.

  “Oooh…!!!” The dragoness applauded in mock excitement. “So it is settled then. You will take my daughter with you to Terra Praeta. In return—”

  “Clone…” the Sovereign interrupted. “Do not speak of things yet to come.”

  They glared at each other for a while and Jerome could sense that a fight was about to break out. What was she about to promise him? What things were yet to come?

  “Do you have a name?” he asked, trying to diffuse the situation.

  The dragoness straightened. “I don’t… we don’t.”

  Jerome nodded. That was quite humble of her to say. “I would like to offer but, I doubt I’ll survive naming you. This is Nyx, by the way.” — he pulled Nyx from behind him — “Like you, she’s a dragon.”

  The dragonkin’s eyes grew larger in shock. “Is that why she looks human, because she has a name?”

  Her voice was the sweetest thing he had ever heard, so filled with purity and the innocence of youth. It made him smile. She hid herself behind her mother.

  “Yes… yes, that’s why,” he said. “I gave her her name.”

  Nyx cleared her throat and glared at him.

  “Hmm,” the dragoness said in a dismissive tone. “You did well, herald. My daughter would have done better though.” She turned to him. “But you can name my daughter—”

  “Mother,” the dragonkin muttered in complaint.

  Her mother said something to her in a language Jerome had never heard before. The words were harsh sounding, stiff sometimes and flowy at other times. Nyx frowned and looked away. Jerome had an idea what was going on but didn’t say a thing. It was dragon business after all.

  “I promise to name her when we get back to Terra Praeta. But what do I get in return?” He wasn’t going to act like this wasn’t an exchange of value. It was nice to be virtuous but sometimes a bargain goes a long way.

  “I will owe you a debt then, Chosen of Ilyrrah,” the dragoness said in a heavy tone, “for I have nothing of value to you I can offer at the moment.”

  Elder Thorlin’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “Never has the Ancient of House Fei owed a debt to anyone,” he whispered in his ear. “This is a debt you should not take lightly.”

  Jerome nodded.

  “Since you have said your piece, you can run along now, clone,” the Sovereign said, still in a sour mood.

  The already calm atmosphere once again grew tense. Jerome sighed, knowing he’d have to intervene again. And he really didn’t want to be caught between these two titans when they fought. He looked from Elder Thorlin to Madam Mari but they just shrugged at him.

  “Can we not do this? I doubt this place will survive a blow from either one of you.” Jerome looked around, trying to figure out where they were once again.

  Madam Mari chuckled in amusement. “One does not send a snail to fight a battle of swords, little one. Do not concern yourself with them.”

  In other words, there was nothing he could do if they decided to throw down so why bother.

  The dragoness drew a deep breath after they finished sizing each other up and said, “I will not take my leave yet, Yun. I believe there’s yet much to discuss with Ilyrrah’s Chosen.”

  Everyone stilled at her words. For the first time, Jerome saw the Sovereign frown lightly. This was probably not going to end well. The two continued to stare each other down until the Sovereign relented.

  “Very well,” he said. “But Jerome will be given free rein to speak on equal terms with us. Remember your debt, clone.”

  The dragon gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “We are quite impressed with the results of your creation during the war, little one,” Madam Mari said, caressing her staff as though she was talking to it. “A weapon that functions without essence and yet can kill a hundred Messengers in a single boom!”

  “That’s quite the colorful description, Madam Mari,” Jerome said. “But it does use essence.”

  They all looked at him as though they were seeing him for the first time.

  “Would you care to show us this… ‘thunderstick’ of yours?” the dragoness asked.

  Jerome sighed. “I don’t want that name to catch on—”

  “Boomstick then,” the dragonkin said, then she noticed she had said it out loud and flinched, floating back a pace.

  “Not that either.” Jerome materialized one of his rifles. “I call it a rifle.”

  “I believe what it’s called right now is inconsequential,” the Sovereign said, exchanging a glance with Elder Thorlin.

  The Elder’s whispered voice reached him the next moment. “Be careful how you give out information. The dragoness is no fool and can quickly realize you are an old soul.”

  Elder Thorlin took the rifle from him and floated close to the Sovereign before handing it over. The Sovereign studied the weapon for a while before passing it to the Elder who passed it to the dragoness. Madam Mari received the rifle afterward and studied it carefully as well.

  “What a simple weapon for such a powerful effect,” the dragoness said. “The universe is surely filled with wondrous things.”

  “And what would it take to make this weapon for an army of sacred artists?” the Sovereign asked, looking him directly in the eye.

  “Not much,” Jerome said. “Only a lot of steel… among other things.”

  The dragoness sighed, Madam Mari tsked, and the Sovereign shook his head slowly in thought.

  “Metal,” the Sovereign said. “The very resources we lack.”

  “And one the Principality commands,” Madam Mari said.

  “How do they even get so much metal?” Jerome asked.

  He could only imagine how they would react if he revealed how much steel he had — granted, it wasn’t much. But it was enough to outfit a small army of a few thousand.

  “Why don’t you tell Jerome here where they get their metal from, love,” the dragoness said to her daughter, the dragonkin. “Let us adults figure something out.”

  Jerome didn’t need to be told that they weren’t needed for the discussion or planning that was to come. He grabbed Nyx and turned to leave but Elder Thorlin called to him.

  “Don’t go too far…”

  The young dragonkin followed them as they headed into the fog.

  “Where is this place, anyway?” he asked. “I can’t sense anything beyond two feet of me.”

  “We’re in a void plane,” Nyx answered. “An in-between place if you will.”

  “You mean it’s different from a created void plane like the void world in Terra Praeta?”

  “Yes,” she said, rubbing at her arm timidly.

  “Hey,” Jerome whispered to her, tucking strands of her long black hair behind her ear. “She doesn’t know your strength like I do. Don’t let her words get to you, okay?”

  She nodded. This was the second time Jerome was seeing Nyx looking so vulnerable and he didn’t like it. He pulled her close and she let him hug her for a while.

  “Ahem,” the dragonkin said from behind them to get their attention and Nyx lightly pushed him away, straightening and regaining her composure. “I’m sorry about my mother’s ill-manners and condescension. She tends to see others as beneath her. But she has a good heart. She only wants what’s best for our kind.”

  “You don’t need to defend her,” Jerome said as she floated closer. “We all have our quirks. I can be arrogant too.”

  “You don’t talk others down, I’m sure,” she replied with a sigh. “I’ve tried to talk to her, you know. She just never listens.”

  Jerome smiled at her. She was so much different from her proud and confident mother. But he could see she wasn’t as shy as she was when they first met. She was opening up.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

  ~~~

  Tara

  “Seriously, Sheela?” Tara asked. “You yourself used tremendous amounts of essence during our battles with the Messengers. This shouldn’t be new to you.”

  “I know, it just baffles me, is all. I wonder what it’ll be like to be able to analyze the amount of essence it takes to do these things.”

  “That’s not impossible,” Achilleia said. “In fact, we already have a way to calculate essence in quantity and effect. We’ve just not sat down to do it. I and Jerome are also not in agreement about what to call this unit of measurement. When we come to an agreement, we will let you know.”

  “You should probably talk to the First Matron of the Academia of Sanctum,” Sheela said. “She’s my godmother and she’d be interested to hear about it.”

  “She’s the one who you’re named after, isn’t she?” Csala asked.

  “Hmm.”

  “We’ve arrived, everyone,” Achilleia announced. “Behold the towers of Alvion.”

  They all sat up as the golem dipped below the clouds a little. All three of them scooted closer to the edge of the flying stone beast to get a look of the city.

  “Wow. They’re tall,” Sheela said. “I’ve never seen human constructions that can get so high.”

  “That sounds very specific,” Achilleia said. “And you don’t sound impressed.”

  Sheela shrugged. “The Redwood trees in the west are far more impressive.”

  “Hmm,” Ms. Tara said. “It takes about forty tall men to wrap around a fully grown redwood tree. I gawked at them when I first saw them.”

  Sheela chuckled at that and Tara smacked her on the head.

  “Tialana was right,” Csala said. “They do look like phalluses.”

  Everyone burst out laughing at her words.

  “You mean you’ve never seen a tower before?” Tara asked when they calmed down.

  Csala shook her head. “I’ve seen very little creation of an intelligent race. Terra Praeta is not kind to its inhabitants. It shuffles us around everyday.”

  Tara wrapped her hands around her and pulled her close.

  “About that,” Achilleia said. “The shuffling is done to prevent Dashani and her Children from spreading her taint throughout the world.”

  “I figured.” Csala leaned into her. “It’s still not comfortable though.”

  The golem groaned as it began to circle around the city so it could put some distance between them and the Messengers besieging the city.

  “Brace yourselves,” Achilleia announced and Tara felt a strange force pull on her as if forcing her to remain on the stone dragon. They began dropping rapidly in elevation.

  “Rihal?” Tara said, connecting to the comms device Jerome had sent to him a while back.

  “I hear you, Tara,” Rihal said.

  “We’re here. Where can we land?”