{"sf1_id":1624617,"sf2_id":"GnDq0x81","title":"Revaramek The Resplendent: Chapters Ninety Five - Ninety Seven","author":"Of The Wilds","words":12694,"posted_at":"2020-09-05T23:51:35.000Z","tags":["Character Development","Dragon","Dragoness","Fantasy","Female","Gryphon","Human","M/F","Male","Novel","Plot Development","Plot Progression","Sci-Fi","Scifi","Story Series","The Cosmos","The Stars That Sing","The Storyteller","The first","woman"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1624617-revaramek-the-resplendent-chapters-ninety-five-ninety-seven","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/GnDq0x81","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/dc/08/dc0866fc-a37a-4ea6-8218-73499b84e5f2","description":"In which...  \n  \nRevaramek and Nyramyn watch the stars...  \n  \nAn old friend tends her garden...  \n  \nThe Storyteller wanders the cosmos...  \n  \nAnd a plan is made.","content":"\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\nChapter Ninety-Five\n\n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\n“There’s so many stars here.” Awe filled Nyramyn’s voice as she stared up at the night sky. “You’re right, Rev. This is a lovely way to spend our evening.”\n\nRevaramek gave her neck a gentle lick. “I’m glad you think so. I thought you’d enjoy seeing them all, on such a clear night.”\n\n“It’s gorgeous.” Nyramyn gave a happy little sigh. “Korakos will love it, too, when he can stay awake long enough.” She glanced back at their house, where their exhausted hatchling was fast asleep. \u0026nbsp;\n\nRevaramek leaned his head against his mate’s neck, smiling. “Stars must be such a strange sight to him. Even _we_ only saw them on our rare nighttime trips above the clouds.”\n\n“Korakos adores them! The stars fascinated him from the very first time he saw them.” Nyra flattened back her ears, scowling. “That was only _days_ ago, wasn’t it?” Nyramyn lifted a paw, rubbing at the base of her horn. “My memories feel fuzzy, like I can’t recall them all quite right, anymore.”\n\nRevaramek gave her a gentle lick. “A bit like the details have shifted, right? And some of them probably feel out of order?” When Nyramyn nodded, Revaramek licked her again. “It’s from the gate. Something about it scrambles your memories. But you’ve only been through one gate, so it should fade soon enough.”\n\nMeanwhile, Revaramek wasn’t sure all his memories would ever fully align again. Then again, Revaramek’s memories had always been nebulous, as if he occasionally remembered moments from the other lives he might have lived, and from the delusions of grandeur he once built around himself. It was never enough to cause him trouble, but it did give him pause once in a while.\n\n“I hope you’re right.” Nyramyn traced her claw tips through the thick grass upon which they sat together. “It feels like years ago that Korakos and I reached that tower, and it’s been…days.” A flash of light streaked across the sky, and Nyramyn gave an adorable little squeak. “Oh! That one moved!”\n\n“They call those shooting stars,” Revaramek said, setting a forepaw atop hers. “Some nights, you’ll see dozens of them.”\n\n“Really?” Nyramyn tilted her head, her eyes lit by moonlight, and shining with inquisitive curiosity. “When will that happen again? And do they move?”\n\nRevaramek laughed, swishing his tail across the grass. “I’ve no idea, Ny. You sound like Korakos, right now.”\n\nNyramyn chuckled, ducking her head. “I suppose I do. He asked me all about the stars, too. He first saw them, the night we spent in the tower. It was the first place I’d ever seen, where you could view the stars from the earth.”\n\n“I remember.” Revaramek clenched his jaw. “I was there during the day, but I could still see the sky, through the eye of that maelstrom.”\n\nEarlier, Revaramek took them hunting. Then they swam together with Korakos until the hatchling had worn himself out. After putting him to bed, Nyramyn asked Rev to join her in watching the stars. There, bathed in starlight, they spoke of their lives apart. Revaramek explained everything to her, best he could. He told her about the day Asterbury returned, and gave him his only, heartbreaking chance to save his family. Nyramyn took it in stride, helped no doubt by the fact that it all turned out to be true. They were together again, and that was all that mattered.\n\nIn the time since, Revaramek fully embraced his role as protector of this place. Not just of the city of Refuge and all those it sheltered, but the _entire_ marsh. He served as an emissary, visiting other villages and cities. He helped Mirelle broker continued peace treaties with va’chaak tribes, far-flung gryphon clans, and even other dragons. Nowadays, nearly _everyone_ Revaramek the Resplendent, Hero of the Marsh. His life now was _everything_ he’d ever dreamed of, in his youth. At long last, he truly was a benevolent overlord. But without his family, his achievements rang meaningless, and hollow. Now reunited at last, his life would finally be complete, if only he could save Nyramyn.\n\n“We arrived during the day, but when night fell, Korakos and I stayed up watching the stars.” Nyramyn leaned against him, returning her gaze to the heavens.\n\n“It sounds like a beautiful last night in the swamp.” Revaramek rubbed her paw.\n\n“Oh, it was!” Nyramyn nipped at his jaw. “Aside from all the abject terror when that raging flood nearly drowned us.”\n\nRevaramek winced. Nyramyn had filled him in on her years without him in the swamp, as well. She recounted her frantic searches for Revaramek, and her eventual, heartbroken acceptance that the swamp had claimed him. After that, she struggled daily just to keep Korakos fed and healthy. Though she knew she had enough years left to raise him, and teach him to fly, she feared for the lonely, difficult life that awaited him. When Korakos was old enough to live on his own for days at a time, she decided to search for a way out, while she still had the strength. Between feeding Korakos, and searching for an escape, the poisons took a greater toll on her. In the end, she succeeded despite the great flood, and the gate-tower’s collapse into the swamp.\n\n“Yes,” Revaramek said, sheepish. “Despite that.”\n\nNyramyn returned to contemplating the sky. “It was beautiful, while it lasted. We watched the stars deep into the night. Korakos asked me what they were, but I had no idea.” She curled her tail over Revaramek’s. “I don’t suppose you know?”\n\nRevaramek chuckled, shrugging his wings. “I have no idea. Although…” He scratched his neck with a wing tip. “Some of my favorite stories talk about the stars as representing the gods, or some power, higher still.” An odd memory flickered through his head, some dream Asterbury once told him about. “Perhaps that was what they meant to the desert urd’thin, too. Or maybe it was just how Vakaal saw them, while he slumbered.”\n\nNyramyn scrunched her nose. “Who’s Vakaal?”\n\n“Nevermind, love.” Revaramek nuzzled her. “I don’t know what the stars are.”\n\n“They’re beautiful, anyway.” Nyramyn stared up at them, countless pinpoint lights strewn across the sky, and reflecting in her eyes. “And there’s _so_ many of them here.”\n\n“There are, yes.” Revaramek curled his tail around Nyramyn’s as she leaned against him. “But all the stars together could not match _your_ beauty, for your splendor outshines them all.”\n\nNyramyn looked away, smiling. “You always did have a way with words.” She glanced back at him, mischief shining in her starlit eyes. “Although, you usually dulled your compliments with some crude follow-up.” \u0026nbsp;\n\n“And yet, _your_ beauty could never be dulled.”\n\nNyramyn’s smile widened, her frills lifted.\n\n“I’ve been trying to work on leaving my more fanciful words to stand on their own.” He bumped her with his muzzle. “And now I’m waiting for you to say something witty and incisive.”\n\n“Yes, perhaps something about…” Nyramyn swished a paw in the air. “How you’re just trying to get under my tail.” She set her paw back down. “And then I’d cut off your counter-argument by implying you’d be finished before you’d even started.”\n\n“Something like that, yes.” Revaramek laughed, stretching a wing in invitation to snuggle under it, if she wished. “You always were able to talk circles around me.”\n\n“And fly circles around you. And _swim_ circles around you.” She tilted her head, making a show of considering the invitation. “And _hunt_ circles around you…”\n\nRevaramek flashed her a playful grin. “But I _can_ catch a bigger swamp crab than you!”\n\n“Once! You did that once!” Nyra shook a single unsheathed claw at him, giggling. “And only because you were trying to impress me.” \u0026nbsp;\n\n“And there was never a female worthier of impressing.” He arched his neck, gazing at his own wing. “You know, my wing is going to get a cramp if I keep it held this way much longer.”\n\nNyramyn stared at his wing, licking her nose. “I suppose the polite thing to do would be to give you something to rest it upon.”\n\nRevaramek lifted it higher as Nyramyn cuddled up to him. Her scales slid and brushed across his, the feeling still achingly familiar even after years apart. Yet once she was fully resting against him, she felt disconcertingly light. She’d lost even more weight in that damn swamp than he’d realized. There were a thousand worried questions he could have asked her about her health, and just as many disarming jokes and barbs to go with them. Revaramek instead opted for silence, and simply draped his wing across her, sheltering her in his embrace.\n\n“All this time…” Nyramyn’s voice was a soft whisper. She stroked his foreleg. “And your warmth is still _so_ familiar.” She glanced at him, searching his face. “May I be honest?”\n\n“I should hope you’d be nothing but, Nyra.” Rev bumped his nose to hers.\n\nA nervous smile flitted across Nyra’s muzzle. “I feel I should be angry with you, for leaving me there.” She glanced towards the house, where Korakos was sleeping. “For leaving _us_ there, without a word, without a warning, without even a goodbye.”\u0026nbsp;\n\nRevaramek tensed up, heart sinking into his belly. “You have _every_ right to be angry with me, Nyra. If you want to rage, and scream, then I will be bare it without objection, knowing full well I deserve your scorn, and your wrath.”\n\n“No, Rev.” Nyra lifted a paw and put a single finger between his nostrils, quieting him. “You don’t. You did only what you believed was necessarily, and you did it only to _save_ us_.”_ She swept her wing out across the vastness of the marsh. Stars and silvery moonlight glimmered on dark water. “And you were right.” Nyramyn took a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. “And still, I _should_ be angry with you. And yet…” She nuzzled at his neck, her voice soft. “I can find no anger within myself. I looked. I _tried_ to be angry with you. If there was ill will inside me, I knew I had to spend it now, and let it be done, lest it should fester into bitterness. But there’s nothing of the sort.” She shook her head and laughed, a chiming, musical sound. “I’m not angry at all, and that’s ever so confusing.”\n\nRevaramek wasn’t sure if he should be worried, or relieved. “If that ever changes, Nyra, please know that I will happily shoulder all the blame you could ever-”\n\n“No.” Sharpness edged Nyra’s voice, now. “We’re not going to take that route, Rev. What am I to blame you for, saving our son from the swamp?” She dropped her chin atop his muzzle to keep him quiet. “I don’t _want_ to look for blame. I don’t _want_ to manufacture anger.” She swallowed. “I don’t know how much time I have left. Maybe you _will_ cure this poison that’s slowly eating away at me. But maybe you _won’t._ And I do _not_ want to waste my remaining years on blame, and resentment.” Nyra sniffled, and she grasped his paw, squeezing it. “I want to spend them knowing only happiness, with my family.”\n\nRevaramek took a shaky breath, fighting back sudden tears. “You never stop awing me, Nyra. You’re stronger inside than I’ll ever be.”\n\n“Damn right I am,” Nyra said, wiping her eyes. A smile forced its way onto her muzzle. “And don’t you forget it.”\n\n“I could never forget your strength, Nyra.” Revaramek hugged her tighter with his wing.\n\nNyramyn pressed herself into his warmth, stroking his chest plates. “You know, I worried my memories were exaggerating. Surely, I thought, I could never have felt so truly safe and sheltered beneath your wings. And yet, here I am again, feeling as if somehow…everything will be fine, so long as I’m with you.” She worked her jaws, her frills flattened. Nyra sighed, and shook her head. “No words could do this feeling justice. But I know in my heart, that whatever we were to each other, years ago? We still are.”\n\nRevaramek smiled at her. “You know what we _were_, Nyra.” Revaramek gave her nose a soft lick. “We were mates, for all our lives. That remains true, for as long as you will have me.”\n\nNyra’s voice was little more than a hushed whisper as she twined her fingers through his. “I can think of no one I would rather spend my final years with than you, Revaramek the Resplendent.”\n\nJoy and sorrow twined together around Revaramek’s heart. He squeezed her fingers, nosing at her ear. “I keep telling you, you’ve plenty of years left. You’re just going to have to trust me to do one more great, heroic deed and free you from the poison’s grasp.”\n\nNyramyn tilted her head, a little laugh escaping her. “I suppose that _would_ help keep the other males’ affections at bay for a little while.”\n\n“My word,” Revaramek said. “How quickly you transition from wanting to spend your life alongside me, to the affections of other males.”\n\n“Well, you’ve said there are many other dragons here, and you claim I am beautiful.” Nyramyn caressed the back of his forepaw. “I must assume you’ll soon have to fend off a plethora of other males competing for my attention.”\n\n“So I shall.” Revaramek flared his wings, arching his neck. “I’d best prepare myself for the competition.”\n\nNyramyn laughed, the sound soft and musical. “A wise male, indeed.” She leaned her head against his neck, staring at the sky once more. “There are more stars here than I ever dared dream could exist in one sky.”\n\n“There are. I didn’t realize how myriad they truly were, until I returned here myself. I know not why there are fewer stars visible in the skies above the swamp. The sky there seemed paler and colder than it should, even during the day.” Revaramek splayed his ears, old memories playing through his mind. “When Asterbury took me to that old castle, the sky and the sun looked cracked, as if that whole world were encased in fractured glass. Maybe it’s the shattered sky that hides the stars. Or maybe that world just has fewer stars left above it.”\n\n“Who can say?” Nyramyn returned her paw to Rev’s chest. She rubbed his plates in lazy, gentle circles. “All I know is, I’d be happy to spend each night here with you, trying to count _these_ stars.”\n\n“I’d like that.” Revaramek savored Nyra’s affections as he admired the sky. Countless stars glimmered and shone in the dark, cloudless expanse. Now and then Nyra’s paw roamed lower, drifting across the smaller scales of his belly. Her touch and warm presence left him tingling delightfully, but he wasn’t sure if that was her intent. “Nyra?”\n\n“Yes, Rev?” Nyramyn gasped as another shooting star blazed a bright red line across the sky. “Oh! That one was even prettier than the last. Did you see it?”\n\n“I did! It was beautiful.”\n\nNyramyn nosed at his chin. “But not as beautiful as me, right?”\n\n“Now you’re just fishing for compliments. But no, not as beautiful as you…” Revaramek trailed off, shivering when her paw drifted lower still. The feeling left him warm and swelling, even as he tried to resist it. “Nyra…”\n\n“Again Rev, yes?” Nyra ran her paw back up to his chest.\n\n“Given the circumstances, and the time we’ve spent apart, I feel it’s only right I should warn you that…” He swallowed, caressing Nyra’s foreleg. There was a time he knew the shape of every scale she had. He traced a single finger across a few of her scutes, wanting to commit them all to memory once more. “If you keep doing that-”\n\n“Doing what?” Nyra’s paw drifted across his belly again. She stared at the stars, and Revaramek could not tell whether the innocence in her question was real or feigned.\n\n“Stroking me that way.”\n\nNyramyn’s paw stilled. “Would you rather I stroke you another way?”\n\nA grin spread over Revaramek’s muzzle. “Very funny. I just…” He trailed off, feeling like a youngling afraid of accidentally offending a female. “Given our long time apart, I feel it only fair I forewarn you that I’m going to end up unsheathed soon.”\n\n“Are you?” Nyramyn offered him a playful smile, her frills perked. “You say that as if you think the sight of it will offend me.”\n\n“I just didn’t wish to give you the wrong impression.” Revaramek held his paws up. “Or leave you thinking I only invited you out here because _that’s_ on my mind.”\n\n“Your respect and thoughtfulness is appreciated.” Nyramyn laughed to herself, the sound soft and chiming. “But what makes you think it isn’t on _my_ mind?”\n\nRevaramek blinked, tilting his head. “Is it? I mean, if you wanted to…” He swallowed. “Just how soundly does Korakos sleep, these days?”\n\nNyramyn’s laughter only grew. She lay her head against him, and her paw resumed its teasing caress, drifting lower and lower. “You still talk too much, sometimes.”\n\n“Sorry.” Revaramek stroked her neck, shivering as her paw roamed ever more intimately. “I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to rush anything, but since that’s clearly-”\n\n“Shut up, Rev.” Nyramyn pressed her muzzle to his. “No more talking.”\n\nAs Nyramyn kissed him, Revaramek angled his head to let their muzzles twine. Their kiss soon deepened, their tongues dancing. Revaramek pushed his body against hers, scales sliding against scales. Nyramyn eased over onto the ground, and soon, beneath the stars, he fell against her.\n\n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\nMirelle wandered her garden, savoring the warm sunshine. Several days had passed since the pillar of light pierced the distance sky, and Revaramek left in search of his family. Mirelle sent gryphons to help him search, as well as alert the neighboring towns and urd’thin villages. All the gryphons but one were back now, but Revaramek remained absent. Mirelle hoped that meant good things. For now, all council meetings were suspended, to ensure everyone was free in case Revaramek needed them. Her beloved tavern The Cathedral was also closed to the public, to give Revaramek a quiet place inside the town to bring his family, if he wished.\n\n“Not a single damn cloud today.” Mirelle shaded her eyes, gazing at the sky. The middle of summer was the only time the marsh ever saw dry stretches. It was hot, but Mirelle was happy to enjoy the sunshine while she could. Soon, the seasons would turn again, and rainclouds would gather.\n\n“Makes for good flying weather,” said Kurekka, the brown and tan gryphon lounging nearby. Both his red-edged wings were draped across the grass. “Perhaps Revaramek is showing her around the marsh.” He clacked his beak. “Assuming it _was_ his mate and child coming through that gate.”\n\n“If it wasn’t, he’d be back already.” Mirelle dropped her hands, and pivoted towards the gryphon. “Your wing is dangerously close to-”\n\n“I haven’t smothered your precious flowers.” Kurekka flared up his crimson crown feathers. “I should think you’d know by now I’m not going to trod on anything important.” He huffed, tossed his head, and then glanced away. “Again, I mean. Three times, and I’ve learned my lesson.”\n\nMirelle waited till he was finished before she pointed to the cluster of three-leafed plants. “Dangerously close to that poison ivy, I meant.”\n\n“What?” Kurekka squawked and yanked his wing back. “Why didn’t you tell me that was there?”\n\n“You lived most of your life out in the marsh.” Mirelle shook her head, laughing. “I just assumed you knew what it looked like. Or that it didn’t affect gryphons.”\n\n“Well, it does!” Kurekka rose to his paws and slunk a few paces away. He turned a slow circle, examining the ground around him. The gryphon flopped down, and stretched his wings again. “I know what things look like, it’s just…”\n\nMirelle put her hands on her hips. “Let me guess. It’s Chir’raal’s job to look after you.”\n\nKurekka glared at her. “You should have that thing removed.”\n\n“I don’t think Chir’raal would appreciate you saying that.” Mirelle turned away to hide her smirk. She crouched down near a line of thorny squash, examining a small, yellowy vegetable.\n\n“I meant the ivy, and you knew it. Shouldn’t he be back by now, too?” Kurekka circled a paw in the air. “He’s probably too busy getting drunk with those urd’thin. Why aren’t _our_ council meetings that much fun?”\n\nMirelle straightened up, grinning. “Are you jealous of your mate’s business trip?”\n\n“Business trip? I’m quite certain that any business he went to conduct has long since been…” He scrunched his face, grinding his beak. “Conducted. Thought I had something better for that. The point is, surely all he’s doing now is drinking with those urd’thin merchants! _Again._ I’ve no idea how such small bodies can hold so much alcohol.” He gave an irritable chirrup. “And why does he to go off partying, while I get stuck talking about tax rates and tariffs and hiring quotients?”\n\nMirelle folded her arms, approaching the gryphon. “This was _your_ idea, you know. You’re the one who said since the urd’thin get along so well with gryphons, we should appoint him our representative to their villages.”\n\n“Business representative!” Kurekka slapped his paw against the grass. “Not party bird!”\n\n“I thought you didn’t like being called birds?”\n\n“We don’t! That’s why I’m calling him one.” Kurekka ruffled himself up. “At least I still outrank him. Why, I ought to revoke his privileges until he agrees to invite me to his crazy urd’thin parties.”\n\n“I can’t tell if you’re just grumpy because he’s not around.” Mirelle turned away, walking to her pond. “Or if you’re genuinely jealous of the position _you_ appointed him to.”\n\n“Can’t it be both?” Kurekka stretched a wing, preening it. “Mostly I’m irritable that he didn’t invite me to his parties, even though the Council is adjourned.”\n\nShe glanced over her shoulder. “I think you just miss your widdle wove dove.”\n\n“Oh, shove it, Mirelle.”\n\nMirelle laughed as she crouched down to inspect her water lilies. “Chir’raal shouldn’t be spending his time partying, anyway. He’s supposed to be presenting our positions on trade negotiations. If all he’s doing is partying, I’m going to have a serious talk with him.”\n\nKurekka perked his ears. “I assume boots will be involved?”\n\n“They will be if he’s wasting Council funds on booze.” Mirelle plucked a few dead leaves from the water. A fat green frog with bronze spots leapt off a lily pad and into the pond. A moment later, it resurfaced, staring at her from the far shore. “Oh, sorry, Revaramek Two, didn’t see you there.”\n\nKurekka warbled laughter. “Revaramek Two? You named a frog after him?”\n\n“Yes, I did!” Mirelle flashed the gryphon a wicked grin. “And he hates it.”\n\n“I don’t blame the frog for hating it, it’s a terrible name.”\n\n“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.” Mirelle stood, wiping her hands off on her dark breeches.\n\n“He’s right there, Mirelle.” Kurekka pointed to the frog. “You don’t have to tell him what I said, I’m sure he can hear me.” The gryphon lifted his voice, calling out to the little creature. “You have a terrible name!”\n\nMirelle circled around her pond and fountain, checking for problems. “Are you just trying to act like him now? I suppose that’s one way to distract us from our worries.”\n\nThe gryphon tilted his head, staring at her. “Why on earth would I act like a frog, Mirelle? That’s just stupid.”\n\n“It’s not the worst Revaramek impression I’ve heard.” She fished a stick out of the fountain. “You’ve mastered his need to be difficult, at least.”\n\n“Best I could do.” Kurekka stretched his front legs, yawning. His forepaws splayed and his pink tongue curled in his beak. When his yawn ended, he pulled his legs in. “I certainly couldn’t contort my voice into anything that obnoxious.”\n\n“You’ve got no problems being obnoxious in any other way, though.” Mirelle tossed the soggy stick at him.\n\n“Thanks to years of learning from the resplendent master of intentional irritation.” Kurekka turned a paw over, inspecting his pads. “You know, if I really wanted, I could…”\n\nWhen the gryphon trailed off, Mirelle furrowed her brow, watching him. His ears perked and swiveled, then he turned his head as if follow them. Kurekka clicked his beak and rose to all fours. His ears pivoted again, attuned to some sound too far away for Mirelle to pick up.\n\n“What is it?” Mirelle hurried over to him.\n\nThe gryphon held up a paw, waving her off.\n\n“Wingbeats?” Mirelle scanned the sky. “Is it wingbeats?”\n\nKurekka shot her a glare. “Silence, please!”\n\nMirelle quieted, and Kurekka listened intently. Soon, Mirelle heard the faintest sound of wingbeats in the distance. She pursed her lips, concentrating on the sounds. It sounded like there were at least two pairs of wings, distinct from one another. Perhaps a dragon and a gryphon, she thought.\n\n“Is that two sets of-”\n\n“I think it’s Revaramek.” Kurekka smiled, beak open and ears perked. “With Chir’raal accompanying him!”\n\nMirelle scowled, still searching the skies. “Why would they be flying back together? Wouldn’t-”\n\n“I don’t know, Mirelle.” Kurekka shook himself, ruffling his feathers. “Chir’raal was probably headed home and spotted our Egotistical Understudy.”\n\n“Our _what_ now?”\n\nKurekka warbled. “It’s more accurate than Benevolent Overlord.” \u0026nbsp;\n\n“If he hears you call him that-”\n\n“I’ll be sure to put Chir’raal between us.” Kurekka waved a wing at her, asking for space. “Now unless you’d rather I stay here so you can ask _more_ questions, I’m going to go and greet them. I’ll tell Revaramek where you are.”\n\n“Then what are you waiting for?” Mirelle backed away. “Get going, you lazy bird!”\n\nThe gryphon glared at her, then bunched his weight onto his hind legs, and launched himself into the sky. Kurekka beat his great red-brown wings, crimson flight feathers on full display. He ascended in a tight spiral, rising swiftly above the city of Refuge. Mirelle shielded her eyes, watching the gryphon until he was beyond the massive walls ringing the city.\n\nOnce Kurekka was gone, Mirelle paced her garden. Revaramek’s extended absence meant it was likely his family was finally here. But even if that was true, Mirelle had no way of knowing their condition. She wondered if she should summon a group of healers and surgeons, just in case. If Revaramek’s family needed medical treatment, she wanted them to get it immediately.\n\n\u0026nbsp;In the time after Mirelle’s governing council truly took shape, she did all she could to ensure her city’s medical workers were prepared to treat _all_ visitors. Thanks to their alliances with the va’chaak and the urd’thin, doctors and healers of all races had come together to share knowledge and teachings. But few healers of any people knew the intricacies of gryphon and dragon anatomy.\n\nMirelle convinced the city’s resident gryphons to allow themselves to be examined. She ordered her doctors to study the diseases and illnesses that often befell gryphons. When Revaramek had returned, she put him through the same examination process. Mirelle also sent people to scour distant villages and cities in the hopes of finding more experienced healers. Finally, she had all the relevant books and tomes that remained within the Storyteller’s vault analyzed for anatomical, and medical information related to dragons and gryphons.\n\nShe just hoped it would be enough to help Revaramek’s family. When he first returned from the swamp, it was clear he’d lost a lot of weight. Revaramek himself hadn’t even realized it, but Mirelle could tell. He was a far more slender, lithe looking dragon up on his return, than when he’d left. She could not imagine the toll a whole lifetime spent there must have taken on his mate. But if his family needed help, Mirelle would put the whole damn city at their disposal.\n\nWingbeats grew louder, and soon Chir’raal swept into view overhead. The black and gray gryphon let out a loud, keening cry. Revaramek soared across the outer wall, just behind him. Mirelle waved to the dragon, and Revaramek banked into a tight, descending spiral. The dragon touched down a little way off, galloping towards her. He came to a skidding stop alongside her pond.\n\n“Mirelle!” The brassy joy in Revaramek’s voice answered several of her questions before she’d even asked them. “They’re here! Nyramyn and Korakos are here!” Revaramek danced in child-like glee, hopping back and forth on his front paws. “They’re here, they’re here!”\n\nJoyful laughter spilled from Mirelle as she threw herself against the dragon, hugging him tightly around his neck. “That’s wonderful, Rev! I’m so happy for you!”\n\nRevaramek wrapped a foreleg around her, returning the hug. “I’m so happy for me, too! But they’re not _exactly_ here. I mean, they’re in the world, but they haven’t followed me to your house.”\n\nMirelle only laughed and shook her head. “I knew what you meant, you dumb lizard.” She hugged him again, then slipped out from his grasp. “Where are they, though? And…” She swallowed; a more pressing question lurked in the back of her mind. “_How_ are they?”\n\nRevaramek settled onto his haunches, folding his wings. Concern etched itself across his muzzle. “Surviving.” He furrowed his eye ridges, and flattened his frills. “Nyramyn is ill, but we can help her, I’m certain of it.”\n\n“I’m sure of it too, Rev.” Mirelle winced inside, but forced herself to smile. The dragon needed her support, not her sympathy. “Whatever we can do to help, we’ll do it.”\n\n“I know you will, Mirelle.” Revaramek bowed his head in gratitude, then glanced at the gryphons as they landed nearby. “I found Stripes over here on the way back from his urd’thin party, so we came back together. I filled him in on the way.”\n\n“Oh, Stripes, I like that.” Kurekka trotted over to the dragon.\n\nChir’raal hissed. “It’s called _barring_.” He glanced at a black-barred wing before he folded it against his body. “They’re not stripes.”\n\n“Yes, you know all about barring, after all the urd’thin bars you’ve been visiting lately!” Kurekka snapped his beak at his mate.\n\n“I have not been visiting bars!” Exasperation stretched Chir’raal’s voice. “I’ve been working hard!”\n\n“Working hard on getting drunk, no doubt!” Revaramek tossed his head, cackling. Then he spoke up again before the gryphons could reply. “To answer your other question, Mirelle, Nyra and Kor are at my house in the marsh. I don’t want to overwhelm Nyra. The only humans she’s ever met…” He splayed his ears, softening his voice. “Tried to kill her.” \u0026nbsp;\n\n“Oh…” Mirelle swallowed, pursing her lips. She doubted they survived the attempt. “I understand. We’ll do whatever it takes to prove to her we’re friends.”\n\n“I know.” Revaramek smiled down at her, arching his neck. “To that end, I’d love you to be the first of my friends she meets, if you’re willing.”\n\nWarmth blossomed through Mirelle. Beaming, she put her hand upon the dragon’s scales. “I’d be honored, Rev.”\n\n“You’d better be.” Revaramek smirked, but the gentle way he brushed his paw across her arm said far more than his sarcasm. “But first, I need to talk to Jekk right away. I have to ask him about something called Star’s Blessing.”\n\n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\nChapter Ninety-Six\n\n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\nTime eluded The Storyteller. To the humans, it was fixed, but to The Storyteller, it was malleable, like the rest of his world. The days passed faster or slower depending on his whim. It scarcely seemed a concept worth keeping track of it. What did it matter if a day passed? There was always another day. What did it matter if a _year_ passed? There was always another year.\n\nHis friends visited him at random intervals over the passing decades. Each time, he was overjoyed by their presence. He spun his stories and relished their lasting friendship. Whenever they left, he eagerly anticipated their next visit. Strangely, each time they returned their appearance had changed. Their skin sagged. Their hair turned silver-white, or fell out completely. At first, he believed they changed their appearance as a game, the way he could change himself. But in their minds, he learned a far more painful truth. Though The Storyteller knew the concept of aging, he had not truly understood the toll it took upon biological life until his friends’ final visit.\n\nWhen they returned, their appearance had further altered. Now, some stooped over. Others shuffled along, or walked only with the aid of sticks and wheeled conveyances. Several of them did not return at all. Curious, he peered into their minds, and saw inside them a terrible finality. Some of his friends had _died._\n\nLike age, death was a concept The Storyteller had not truly comprehended until he realized his companions were gone forever. Sorrow filled him, and a great storm broke out across his world. He sheltered his remaining friends, and together, they grieved for those who could experience his stories no longer.\n\nWhile he kept them in his protective embrace, he poured through their minds, wanting to experience all _their_ stories while he still had the chance. When they died, their consciousnesses would fade. But in The Storyteller’s memory, every moment they had ever known would live on eternally.\u0026nbsp; From each of them came hundreds of stories they had heard through their lives, and a thousand-fold more personal experiences. They had known much grief, and pain, but so too had they known great happiness and triumph. All of them had gained positions of power and influence, in their world. They spread his stories and their belief in him far and wide. They had families, with children, grandchildren, and on.\n\nThe Storyteller also discovered that the ember he put inside his friends had altered them on a fundamental level. They saw things other humans could not. Like him, they were learning to perceive not just their world, but existence itself. In so doing, they also learned to reshape reality as he did, albeit on a much smaller scale.\n\nLearning the stories of his friends’ lives helped to ease his great sorrow. Though he would miss them terribly when they were gone, it was wonderful to know they had spread his stories throughout their world. The knowledge that they all had children and grandchildren brought him hope. Perhaps one day, their children would be his friends, too.\n\nWhen the storm wrought by his grief faded, The Storyteller had one last gift for each of them. He let them choose any story they wished, and then allowed them to live out an entire lifetime within it. This time, he did not build worlds around them, for he knew their time left in the physical realm was short. They had families awaiting their return, and he did not wish to keep them too long away. So The Storyteller shaped their minds, instead. He filled their consciousnesses with an entire second lifetime of their own design, with just enough awareness of reality to savor every moment. Every story ran from childhood to old age, in the hopes that it would help them accept the impending death that all humans someday faced.\u0026nbsp;\n\nAfter all the stories were ended, The Storyteller eased his friends back into reality. Gratitude filled them, more than they could ever put to words. They did not need too, for the Storyteller understood it just the same. They sobbed, held each other, and thanked him time and time again for all the wonders he had shown them, and the great gifts he had given.\n\nThen, at last, it was time for his friends to leave for the last time. They all knew that none of them would ever return again. Each of them came forward, to offer him a tearful farewell, and thank him again for all the stories he had told. But The Storyteller wanted to thank _them,_ too. So he told them how their friendship had eased his great loneliness, and their shared games brought boundless joy into his life. The Storyteller filled each of them with warmth, and love, and sent them home for the last time.\n\nEmptiness returned to his island. With it, came deafening sorrow. In the other world, his friends had finally passed. There were no more voices, no more laughter, no one left to share in his stories. Grief erupted with him, and storms consumed his island. Through the rain, The Storyteller shed his tears, and through the lightning came his wracking sobs. Anguish transformed his world, and for a time, it was a cold, lonely place. The oceans froze over. Churning clouds of ice filled the skies. He retreated into himself, wreathed in memories of all the stories he shared with his friends.\n\nThe Storyteller’s grief eventually faded to a dull, lingering ache. He returned from his memories, to contemplate the way he viewed himself. His time with the humans made it clear that there were two basic kinds of life. That which died, and that which persisted. The humans called them mortals, and gods. Humans died, therefor, they were mortal. The Storyteller did _not_ die, therefor, he was a god. Though he did not consider himself to be a deity, by the human definition that was exactly what he was.\n\nThe Storyteller considered that mortals told stories to better comprehend the nature of their lives. Their stories had the power to reduce them to tears, to bring them happiness, to help them face their looming end with dignity, and with courage. Through stories, humans came to understand life, and death, love and loss. Stories shaped their very lives.\n\nTo a god, the mortals were like _his_ stories. They had a beginning, and ending. They brought him joy, and happiness, sorry and pain. Mortals taught of life, and death. Through their knowledge, and their friendship, the mortals had shaped _his_ life.\n\nAnd yet, he was not _their_ storyteller. They were not truly _his_ stories. He had not spun them into being, the way he had woven so many other brief realities. The Storyteller did not even know where the humans had come from. Had they simply coalesced, as he had? Or had another god shaped them into being, just as he shaped the inhabitants of the tales he told?\n\nThat made him wonder. Could he tell his _own_ stories?\n\nThe Storyteller wanted to try. So far, all his stories were based on ideas from the minds of mortals. But did not want to tell stories he already knew. Yet he struggled to come up with ideas of his own. Time and again he started a story, only to cast it aside and start anew. Everything seemed but a reflection of some _human’s_ imagination.\n\nDespite the fragility of their bodies, human imaginations were immensely powerful. He wondered if he simply lacked the breadth of experience to properly develop his own imagination. After all, humans had countless generations upon which to expand their knowledge and envision the impossible.\n\nHe decided to visit the world of the humans The Storyteller had seen it in their minds. It was a beautiful place with vibrant colors. They had vast, lush forests with brilliant green trees. Wildflowers of every painted immense plains. Their oceans were deep, and sapphire blue. Rugged mountains forged from black stone bisected their immense continents. Grand citadels and towers built from crystal towered over gray, granite valleys. Their single, great star shed beautiful golden light, while their lonely moon cast silver sorrow over the nightscape. He could not wait to see it firsthand. Surely, it would inspire his own imagination.\n\nThe Storyteller sent his _understanding_ towards their star, and its dissonant song. From there, he brushed it across the human’s sphere, and opened a gateway between their world, and his. Thanks to the knowledge The Storyteller absorbed from his friends, he imagined his gate like the human concept of a door. It was tall, rectangular, and able to allow passage or block it. But where their doors physical, his was constructed only of light. The Storyteller opened his door in the darkness, sent himself through it, and crossed the vastness of the universe in an instant.\n\nThe Storyteller did _not_ find the world he expected. Instead, he found only a broken memory of it. The great forests were but barren graveyards filled with dead and rotting trees. The beautiful plains were now wastelands of red earth and drifting sands. Their cities were abandoned, their great towers fallen to ruin. The seas were dark, and angry. Immense, forbidding walls now protected the last of their settlements from the wrathful world beyond.\n\nSorrow and confusion washed over him. Never had he seen anything like this. What had happened to the vibrant world his friends called home? The Storyteller settled his consciousness across the largest city remaining. Voices rolled through him in endless waves. Emotions and sensations came with them. Fear and hunger, pain and pleasure, joy and hope, desperation, anger, confusion. His very light shuddered beneath the onslaught.\n\nHe forced himself to focus on those in power. Surely, they would possess the most relevant knowledge. He honed in on them, then sorted through their thoughts, and their memories. Their stories played out in his mind, and soon, he knew why their world was dying.\n\nTime had eluded him once more. While he lingered in grief, his world wracked by storms, decades had passed. When he withdrew into himself, and ice encased his world, decades more slipped by. A century turned by the time he emerged, to ruminate on gods and mortals. Years passed for the humans in the time it took the Storyteller to properly consider a single thought. In the time since he bid his friends their last farewell, countless generations had lived and died and birthed countless more. Every new generation passed his great gift onward, but in their hearts, it festered into something terrible.\n\nEventually, those with cruelty inside them used his gift to take power for themselves and their followers. In the old stories, great heroes always rose to stop evil acts. And indeed, there were those who tried to stop the wicked from seizing control. But this was _not_ like the stories, and the heroes could not stop the monsters. They used his gift to build weaponized doorways they called gates. Their gates unleashed a piercing blow that shattered the veil between worlds, and left them irrevocably linked. And in those other worlds, they did _terrible_ things.\n\nThe friendly visits he had intended turned to bloodshed, and conquest. From each world, they brought back things not meant for them. They gained powers they were never intended to wield. They stole artifacts they were never intended to use. And they made slaves of creatures they should have never know. The cruelty they displayed horrified The Storyteller. He had learned of atrocity through his old friends’ stories, but most of them were _good_ at heart. He never imagined them capable of such dreadful things on so grand a scale. He knew then, at last, that he never should have offered them his power.\n\nThe gift he gave them in friendship had proved their undoing. He had offered them a gentle ember in the name of friendship, but unknowingly gave them a fraction of _all_ his powers. As their descendants learned to alter their reality, they used their ember to unlock more, and more of those latent abilities. Eventually, they could alter the very fabric of their world. But they never knew how to temper that power.\n\nSome among them warned against continuing such alterations, and foretold of great calamities to come. Such warnings were dismissed, and those who proclaimed them, persecuted. Soon, it was too late. The early changes to their world set unseen spark to unknown tinder, a harbinger of great ruination. What began as a trickle grew into a cascade that none of them had the strength to stop. In the end, they lost control of their flame, and burned their own world to ashes.\n\nTheir world was dying, and they had brought it unto themselves.\n\nIt saddened The Storyteller to know this was how their story ended. Guilt weighed heavily upon his being. His _gift_ was responsible. The Storyteller wondered if he should intervene. Their ember was part of them now, and he could not take it away without harming them. He considered granting the kindest humans among them the power to topple the monsters. But had he not interfered with their lives enough? In the end, he decided he had to leave them be. The mortals chose to alter the natural course of their existence, and now they bore the consequences of that decision.\n\nThe Storyteller withdrew, to let their story conclude without him.\n\nOnce home, The Storyteller closed all his doors. He did _not_ want his friends’ descendants to return. Though those with kind hearts remained, those now in control were terrifying. They did terrible things, and all the stories in their heads were dark, and frightening. He closed himself off to them, and shielded his tiny world with walls only his own light could penetrate.\n\nWhen the emptiness of his barren world and its solitary island grew too lonely, The Storyteller decided it was time to leave. He knew now that they were myriad other worlds out there, filled with consciousnesses untold. While he feared what the mortals did with his misspent gift, he still cherished his time with his friends. Their memories reminded him that there was kindness and friendship in humanity, too. And the cosmos had infinite stories, waiting to be discovered.\n\nAnd so The Storyteller left his world to wander existence.\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe cast his _understanding_ out across the cosmos, and bid it to search for life. To his wonder, there were countless other inhabited worlds strewn across the impossible vastness of the universe. Some were new, with tiny populations just beginning their shared journeys through existence. Others were ancient and filled with billions of consciousnesses. The stories of some worlds were only beginning, while others were nearly ended. The more he observed, the clearer it seemed there was a purpose to the cycle of life, and death. Only when one story ended could another begin.\n\nThe Storyteller wondered if there were others like him. Surely, he could not be the only god, could he? He sent his song to every corner of the cosmos, calling out to other gods, but only the distant stars ever sang back. If there were other gods, they refused to speak to him. Their _understandings_ did not brush his. Sometimes, he wondered if he truly _was_ the first. Or maybe he’d only come into being, after the previous god faded into nothingness. If the story of a new world only ever began, when another world died, what if it was the same for gods? What if only one god could ever exist at a time?\n\nThe Storyteller’s light shuddered with lonely sorrow. He did _not_ want to be alone.\n\nTo ease that loneliness, he lost himself in studying the myriad forms of biological life. While he dared not reveal himself again, there was solace in knowing life existed alongside him. Although there were countless galaxies to explore, he decided to focus on his native region, first.\n\nHumans were the most plentiful people within his home star spiral. They existed on most populated worlds, and often ruled them. There were some exceptions, of course, worlds where humans did not dwell, or were isolated. His previous experiences taught him humans held boundless love and hatred alike in their hearts. They were equally capable of kindness and cruelty. Their imaginations knew no limits. Though he expected these to be traits common to all mortal species, thus far he had only studied the humans. The Storyteller believed there was little more he could learn about them, and so he was eager to discover other lifeforms.\n\nFirst, he turned his attention to the larger forms of story-telling life. The greatest among them in size and power were the dragons. They existed in most inhabited worlds, and were often in conflict with other species. Compared to the humans, their populations were quite small, and their lifespans relatively long. Unlike humans, the dragons had six limbs, counting their legs and their wings. There were a number of variations of their species, each with its own deviations in size, and appearance.\n\nClosest in size were the gryphons. They too, had six total limbs. Where the dragons had scaly, protective hides, the gryphons had fur and feathers. Instead of muzzles with teeth, they had sharp beaks. They too had variations in size and fine details. Some had tufted tails and dark colors, others were vibrantly hued, and with feathers all along their tails.\n\nThe Storyteller found their similarities and differences with dragons fascinating. At an anatomical level, they were remarkably similar creatures. Their internal organs, musculature, and skeletal structures were very closely matched in many places. The difference between dragons and gryphons reminded him of the way humans often took a familiar story, and twisted it into something new.\n\nIn the same way, many species were structurally similar to humans. They were bipedal, with four total limbs, dexterous hands, and relatively equal internal workings. The fine details however, varied greatly from world to world. Some were tall sturdy, others short and lithe. There were species covered in fur, and others layered in scales.\n\nMany of the galaxy’s species resembled the lesser animals, as though nature itself spun a story for them. Though The Storyteller found the non-sapient creatures of lesser interest, he still learned all their names from the minds he visited. In one world, one continent was populated by language-capable creatures who resembled wolves, coyotes, and foxes. On another continent, the people were akin to lions, and cheetahs, as well as human-sized lizards. Like the humans, they all had names for their species. They were called things like Koraa’gi, Valramaar, Teshkel, and va’chaak.\n\nThe Storyteller discovered more variations on bipedal themes on other spheres. Where one planet had creatures like wolves, another had powerful bipeds built like hyenas. They called themselves gnolls. They were similar in the general sense, but distinct in the fine details. Fur patterns in spotted browns and beiges, a mane-like ruff, and so on. In the worlds where gnolls existed, The Storyteller also often found kobolds. They were a much smaller species, not unlike unlike diminutive bipedal dragons, albeit without wings.\u0026nbsp;\n\nSo many variations on similar ideas. The Storyteller wondered, if there _were_ gods before him, had they shaped existing species into something new, to populate their own chosen stories? Or had those stories been abandoned, and run rampant with their own unique changes? He found it best not to dwell on those possibilities. The idea of being the only god left was a lonely thought best avoided.\n\nThroughout his wanderings, he found himself enthralled by one species above all others: the urd’thin. Unlike most of other peoples, they resembled not one species, but many. They reminded him of the big-eared foxes that roamed golden deserts, the sly coyotes stalking plains and forests, and the stealthy rats that slunk about dank places in big cities. The urd’thin were clever, industrious people, well-suited to nearly any environment.\n\nIn one world, urd’thin villages lined the trees of great forests. They hunted with great skill, using bows and darts and slings. In another world, they helped invent and tend the great machinery that ran mechanized cities. They roamed the arctic tundra, and wandered volcanic wastes. It seemed there was no habitant they could not find a way to survive.\n\nYet, like rodents, they were often unwanted.\n\nEach world had its own reason for looking down on urd’thin. In one, a powerful but cruel urd’thin warlord once conquered the land, only to be overthrown in a rebellion decades later. In another, animosity stemmed from a history of expansion and conflict among various races. One world experienced a great plague, inadvertently spread by their species. Others battled over religious disagreements.\n\nSurvival in filthy, dangerous environments often gave them a reputation for disease, and thievery. Sometimes it was even true. But the larger species took advantage when they could. Gnolls made them into slaves. Va’chaak recruited them for dirty, hazardous jobs. Wealthy nations pushed urd’thin into slums, theocracies converted them through brutal crusades, and expansionist militaries used as cannon fodder.\n\nBy then, The Storyteller knew mortal life was rarely fair. But if the cosmos wished for the ill-fortunes of urd’thin to balance the other species’ prosperity? It had selected the wrong people. For despite their frequent oppression, urd’thin _thrived._ They built their own hidden cities, beneath their oppressors. They built trade unions that commanded great profit. They wormed their way into the ranks of other species’ power structures. They explored worlds, they crewed flying ships, and created great inventions. All their hardship only ever made them stronger.\n\nIt was as if the urd’thin stared fate in the face, smiled, and spat in its eye.\n\nThe Storyteller _liked_ these urd’thin.\n\nHe could not help but contemplate the wonders they could accomplish, if they only had a world all their own. It struck him then, in a moment of beautiful recognition, that this was his chance. For so long, he had yearned to tell a story of his own. And now he had the chance to do just that.\n\nFor the very first time in his life, The Storyteller understood his purpose.\n\nHe would build a new home, and within it, he would tell a story only for urd’thin.\n\n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\nChapter Ninety-Seven\n\n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\nMirelle spread an armful of old books across a long table inside The Cathedral. The table was cut from a single massive cypress trunk cut lengthwise, smoothed and polished. A storm the year before had felled several of the villages’ older trees, and Mirelle made sure they were all put to good use. Further down the table, Councilman Jekk and Ambassador Enora deposited more books. Following Jekk’s guidance, Mirelle arranged them down the length of the table.\n\nJekk turned towards the green dragon pacing the length of Mirelle’s tavern. He offered Revaramek a comforting smile. “Don’t worry. If there’s anything in here, we’ll find it.”\n\n“Star’s Blessing, right Rev?” Mirelle glanced back at him. If the dragon paced much longer, he was going to leave ruts in her floorboards.\n\n“Yes. He repeated it, over and over.” The dragon paused. “And he said Asterbury told him to remember it, in a dream.” Revaramek flattened his spines. Colorful light cascading through The Cathedral’s many stained-glass windows glinted in his bronze eyes, narrowed in thought. “Or Vakaal. Whoever. But he definitely kept saying Star’s Blessing.”\n\n“And, he was saying it in…” Jekk waved a liver spotted hand. “What language, exactly?”\n\nMirelle turned towards the older man, scowling. “That’s a good point.”\n\nJekk chuckled, smoothing down his black tunic. With his white hair tied back, and his beard trimmed, even Mirelle had to admit the old bastard looked halfway respectable. “I have my moments.” He fidgeted with a gold-hued button, watching the dragon. “When you first returned, sometimes you lapsed into the swamp dragon language. Is that what your son speaks?”\n\n“Of course. It’s the only language Nyra knows.” Revaramek lashed his tail, spines scratching at the floor in a way that made Mirelle wince. Not that her floor wasn’t already covered in scuffs and gouges. “If Korakos has the spark, I wonder if he can understand other languages? Vakaal and Asterbury could, but…” He grunted, tossing his head. “Nevermind.”\n\n“Vakaal’s a special case.” Jekk folded his arms. “That’s not what I meant, though.”\n\n“I think what the _Junior_ Councilman is trying to get at, is translation.” Enora flipped open a book with a faded red cover, ignoring Jekk’s glare. “What words did he use for it?”\n\n“_Star’s blessing_, damn it!” Revaramek stomped a forepaw, then hissed. “How many times do I have to repeat it? I shouldn’t-” He snapped his jaws shut. The dragon sighed, frills drooping around his head. “Sorry. I know you’re all trying to help. It’s just…” He worked his jaws, struggling for words. “It’s my family! And this is the _only_ clue I have to help save them! Asterbury told me this world was special, that there were things here that could cure the poison. Things my mother never knew about.” A flicker of old pain glimmered in his bronze eyes, and he looked away, rustling his wings. “I might not believe much he ever told me, but _this_ is about family. He wouldn’t lie about that.”\n\n“I understand, Rev.” Enora walked around the table to approach the dragon. She put a hand upon his shoulder. Her emerald dress matched his scales. “You’ve every right to be impatient. But please realize that we have a _lot_ of books to go through, for something none of us are familiar with. But if it translates to star’s blessing in _our_ tongue, perhaps we should also search for the swamp dragon words for it? The actual words Korakos spoke.” She rubbed the dragon’s foreleg, then glanced back at Jekk. “Is that what you were thinking?”\n\n“That’s what I was going to say, yes.” Jekk unfolded his arms and opened a book, flipping through it. “I was just going to use far less words.”\n\n“Keep muttering to yourself old man, I’m sure it’ll help.” Enora glared at him.\n\n“Actually.” Mirelle slapped a hand against the table to get their attention. She wasn’t about to let the two of them start an argument and disrupt their research. “If you could both act like adults, _that_ would help. This is Rev’s family we’re talking about! So if you two are feeling snippy with each other today, you can _both_ leave.”\n\nRevaramek made a low rumbling sound. “Thank you, Mirelle.” He nudged Enora with his muzzle. “And thank you for your comfort. Go see what you can find. The longer this takes the more I’m going to want to look through those books myself.” He lifted a paw, waggling his fingers. “As old as they are I’m afraid I’d damage them.”\n\nMirelle squeezed Enora’s shoulder when the older woman passed by, and gave her a smile. These days, Enora and Jekk were usually on good terms. But occasionally, their history bled through and turned disagreements into bitter arguments. Mirelle didn’t want that to happen, but she also didn’t want them to feel like she was picking on them. They all had to work together, if they were to help Revaramek save his mate.\n\n“Why don’t we try Enora and Jekk’s idea?” Mirelle hoped crediting them might keep them from arguing. “Rev, you tell us the swamp dragon words for star’s blessing?”\n\nThe dragon paced across the tavern again. Most of the tables and chairs were out of his way, but his tail thumped the wall when he turned around. “It’s difficult…star could be a literal star, like we see in the sky.” Revaramek flexed his wing, circling the talon that tipped it. “That word is _kirrg_.”\n\n“How do you spell…” Jekk gulped, flipping through the largest book he’d brought, the Storyteller’s Codex. He mouthed the word to himself a few times, then gave up trying to pronounce it. “That?”\n\n“Hell if I know, old man. It could also mean the sun, which is kirrgirr. Or star as a symbol, a shape. Or any number of other things! And blessing? Do I translate that literally, or metaphorically? Because the words are different. It could be vrexl, but…no, wait…” The dragon trailed off, padding to the table.\n\nMirelle pinched the bridge of her nose. “Revaramek. Don’t over think it. Just tell us the exact words Korakos used.”\n\nRevaramek settled on his haunches alongside Mirelle, peering down at Jekk. “It’s not going to be a swamp dragon word. None of your ancestors would use them. Correct?”\n\nJekk combed his fingers through his beard. “That’s probably true. We’d have either translated it, or given it our own name.”\n\n“And the language you all speak here…” Revaramek waved his paw at the three of them. “It’s the storyteller’s common language, right? You don’t speak the language of Mirelle’s ancestors from 7-A, do you?”\n\nMirelle scrunched her face. “I wouldn’t understand a word of it.”\n\n“None of us would.” Revaramek reached across the table to drag the codex away from Jekk. “That’s the point. I’m sure Korakos was speaking swamp dragon when he spoke it, but swamp dragon is…” He tossed his head, frills flattened. “Well, who even knows if we descended from dragons native to that marsh, or escaped storyteller slaves? Our language could have originated anywhere.” He scrunched up his muzzle. “But I don’t think any of that is important. What matters is how _I_ heard it, when Korakos spoke it. And every time, I heard the phrase ‘star’s blessing’. That’s the clue Asterbury wants me to follow. Not kirrg vrexl or anything else from the swamp dragon tongue.” He tapped a claw against the table. “Star’s. Blessing.”\n\nJekk opened up another book. “Something easily repeated in our tongue _would_ make the search simpler.”\n\nRevaramek growled under his breath. “Somehow I doubt _simple_ was what he was going for.” He gestured at the Codex. “Turn the pages for me, will you?” As Mirelle paged through the large, leather wrapped tome, the dragon glanced at Jekk and Enora. “You’re certain neither of you know of anything here called Star’s Blessing?”\n\nEnora nodded. “I am, but that doesn’t mean much. Other parts of the world might have their own names for things. Hand me those botany books, will you Jekk?”\n\nJekk passed a stack of books. “I’ve never heard the term either, but as she said, that might not mean much.” He drummed his fingers against the table. “There’s another possibility. Star’s blessing could be what _his_ people called it. The desert urd’thin might have had some manner of cure-all antidote.”\n\n“That’s true.” Mirelle carefully paged through the massive tome of worlds. “He was from 3, right?”\n\n“The shapers were _all_ from 3.” Enora gave Mirelle a look that left her shivering inside. “They repeated. Until…”\n\n“Until Asterbury broke everything all at once.” Revaramek snorted. “Enora, search the World 3 entries for anything that could be related. Medicinal herbs, flowers, or hell, it could be a creature for all we know. It could even be something specific to healing dragons. Jekk, what worlds did your people take all their dragon slaves from?”\n\nJekk’s wrinkled face twisted into a scowl. “I feel I should remind you I’m the one who made the break from such practices. But there were dragons in most worlds, I think, including our first few homes. There might have even been dragons on 3, in the marsh that that was opposite Asterbury’s desert.”\n\nMirelle scanned the pages of the Codex. “Rev’s ancestors, you mean?”\n\n“It’s possible.” The dragon arched his neck, peering over her shoulder. “As I said, no one’s really sure if we descended from native dragons, or escaped slaves. I don’t think it’s from home, though, or Nyra’s lineage would already know it.”\n\nJekk nodded his agree. “Probably true.” He combed his fingers through his neatly trimmed beard. “They also took dragons from 5, among others. 5 is where a lot of our shadowstone came from, I think. But they didn’t understand _what_ shadowstone truly was, or the power it held.” He murmured to himself, scratching his cheek. “That world had magic, different than the spark. That’s where the collars they put on the shapers came from, I think. They had something else there, too, something far more powerful, and far more dangerous. The truth was murky, though. One source called them the Gods-Blood Boxes, and said they were gifts from a god. Another says they were built by man, attempting to harness the very powers of creation that-”\n\n“Jekk, as endearing as your old man ramblings are, now is not the time for recitations from the Annotated History of Worlds.” Revaramek tossed his head. “Just see if they ever mentioned Star’s Blessing there.”\n\nSomething tickled at Mirelle’s brain. She rubbed her forehead, trying to figure out what was bothering her. “Jekk, the world where Asterbury’s from. You said it had a marsh, too?”\n\n“Yes, it did.” Jekk reached over the table, turning a few pages in the codex. “It should be in here, somewhere. The group my father was part of focused on the desert, but there were others, too.”\n\n“They built cities in the marsh. I’ve seen them.” Revaramek tilted his head to gaze down at Mirelle, memories flickering across his bronze eyes. “Or at least, what was left of them. The swamp Nyra and I lived in had ruins everywhere, built long before the world drowned. Some were likely cast there when Vakaal merged everything, but others already existed.”\n\nMirelle stroked the fine scales of Revaramek’s muzzle. “Rev, this world has a marsh, and a desert, too.” She glanced at Jekk, scowling. “I mean, doesn’t it? Over the mountains?”\n\nEnora answered before Jekk could. “It does, yes. It’s pretty, in its own way, but desolate as all hell.”\n\nJekk scratched at his beard, then folded his arms. “Can’t say I’ve seen it myself. It was originally deemed unfit for habitation, and all the colonization efforts were completely focused on this marsh.”\n\n“Asterbury must have known this world had a desert, though, right?” Mirelle furrowed her brow. She felt like she was trying to solve a puzzle by creating her own pieces. Mirelle turned to Enora. “Did he ever visit it?”\n\n“Yes, and lamented its emptiness. In fact, he…oh.” Enora sucked in a breath, her eyes lighting up. “You think he…?”\n\n“He sure as hell wouldn’t want the storytellers to have credit for saving Nyramyn.” Mirelle paged through the Codex, looking for their world. She paused glanced back at Enora. “Wait. Before I get ahead of myself, let’s be sure we’re on the same page. Did you go to the desert with Asterbury?”\n\nEnora took a deep breath, wringing her hands. “He took Aylaryl and me out there, a few times. Asterbury built an oasis for us, but I don’t think he ever went very far out across the sands. He used to lament how empty it all was. It made him sad.” She shook her head, sighing. “Sometimes, it was like something held him back. But hell, he didn’t even want to visit the urd’thin villages in the marsh. They reminded him too much of…”\n\n“His past.” Revaramek curled his tail around his paws. “I think that’s how he ended up, here. Vakaal was already hiding parts of his memory, so maybe he was also in control of Asterbury’s seemingly random destinations.” He shrugged his wings. “If Vakaal was having more and more trouble hiding things from Asterbury, maybe he bid his powers to send him somewhere he could find peace, and companionship. If he could calm the monster for a while, then Vakaal could rest too. He probably didn’t expect Aylaryl’s anger to draw that monster back out before he was ready.”\n\nMirelle folded her arms. “You really do think Vakaal was in there, don’t you?”\n\n“Asterbury told me as much. Said I woke Vakaal up, when I kept calling his name.” Revaramek fidgeted with his spiky tail fan. “Which is why I’m so convinced about whatever star’s blessing is. Vakaal wouldn’t let him mislead me when it comes to saving Nyra.”\n\n“If the dragon’s right,” Jekk said, leaning over the table. “Then it’s entirely possible there’s something in that desert Vakaal did not want Asterbury to know about.” He glanced towards Enora. “If something held him back from exploring it, then maybe what he thought was fear, was really Vakaal. You said he built an oasis? Describe it, please.”\n\nEnora looked up from a book describing plants from Asterbury’s home world. “It was just like you’d see in a painting, a big, beautiful lake, in the middle of all that sand. With strange trees I’d never seen before. I found them in this book, though.” She pointed to an image with a tall, barky tree, with fan-like leaves, laden with odd red fruit. “He grew dozens of these and shared their fruit with us. It was delicious, very sweet. I’d never seen anything like it, until then.”\n\n“That’s hand fruit.” Jekk’s voice was flat. “That was little Vakaal’s favorite, I think.”\n\n“Yes.” Enora nodded once. “It was.”\n\n“It has to be there.” Mirelle tapped the image of the hand fruit. “In his oasis.”\n\n“That’s an awfully big leap to make, Mirelle.” Jekk opened another book, and flipped through it, then turned it towards Enora. “Page through this, point out anything that looks familiar.”\n\n“Is it?” Mirelle sharpened her voice. “Like Revaramek said, Asterbury gave us a specific phrase. Something we could _discuss._ We have, and that discussion led us to a realization that Asterbury once created an oasis, with his favorite fruit, in _our_ desert. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?” She scrunched her face. “Not when it’s Asterbury we’re talking about, anyway.”\n\nRevaramek snorted, flattening his ears. “Told you it wouldn’t be simple.” He stretched a wing, brushing it across Mirelle’s back. “I think she’s right. I think we have to investigate this oasis. Asterbury was always plotting ten steps ahead, and we have to assume he still is. Star’s blessing is the first clue, but that doesn’t mean it’s the answer.” He brushed his pads across the image of the hand-fruit trees. “This is the first relevant thing it’s led us to.”\n\nJekk held his hands up. “I’m willing to admit, it’s worth investigating. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up for nothing.”\n\n“Jekk,” Revaramek said, his voice ever so soft. “Hope is all I have, right now.”\n\nMirelle bit her lip and turned to the dragon. She wrapped her arms around his neck, gently hugging him. “Don’t worry, Rev. We’ll save her. We will.”\n\n“I know, Mirelle.” Revaramek returned her hug, smiling. “But thank you.” When they parted, he turned his attention to Enora. “Can we reach this oasis safely? Or did he only ever take you there with…” He snarled in distaste, fangs bared. “His lightning ride?”\n\nEnora chuckled, shaking her head. “No lightning rides were required. We fly there on Aylaryl. Once you cross the mountains, it’s only a few more days flight out into the desert. He never wanted to go very far.”\n\nJekk stroked his beard, frowning. “No, I can only imagine what being surrounded by empty desert would do to his shattered psyche. I rather doubt it made him feel at home.”\n\n“More likely, it made him feel vengeful.” Revaramek licked his muzzle. “And that’s without considering whatever Vakaal may have hidden from him.” He lifted his head, gazing around at everyone. “We’ve all agreed that to the best of our combined knowledge, whatever star’s blessing is, it _isn’t_ in the marsh. Asterbury promised me there was something here than can save Nyra. Something my mother never knew about.” Sorrow crossed the dragon’s face. He swallowed, and forced himself to keep talking. “She sure as hell never knew there was a desert, here.” Revaramek drummed his fingers against the floor. “And the desert was _everything_ to them, so…” He stared at the book, his expression hardening. “That has to be it. Vakaal wants me to go to the desert.”\n\nMirelle pursed her lips, wishing they had something more substantial to go by. “As crazy as it sounds, I agree.” She set a hand upon Revaramek’s side. “Enora, have you found anything else?”\n\n“A few things.” Enora turned the tome towards the others, tapping a picture of a vine with enormous purple blossoms. “This was there. The book says the locals call it dusk dream. Doesn’t say who the ‘locals’ were, though. I also saw this one.” She pointed to an image of a bush with orange-edged leaves. “That one’s named ember leaf.” Enora licked her finger tip, delicately turning the page. Excitement suddenly edged her voice. “And I also remember these flowers.”\n\nThe next illustration was of a cluster of odd-looking flowers growing in the deep shade of a hand-fruit tree, alongside an oasis. They bore black petals with a bright yellow center. Vibrant white spots were scattered across each ebony petal.\u0026nbsp;\n\nMirelle sucked in a breath. “Look at those! Those white speckles almost look like-”\n\n“Stars.” Revaramek stared at the picture, his frills flattened. “Strewn across the night sky.”\n\nEnora waved a book. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t have a name for them. But it does say they’re exceeding rare, as despite being native to the desert, require both shade, and water.”\n\nMirelle glanced up at the dragon. “Like the treelined shore of an oasis.”\n\nRevaramek nodded. “We need to go there. Two questions, Enora.” He unsheathed a single claw in the air. “What are the chances this oasis has just dried up, without him? And two.” He unsheathed a second claw. “How long will it take us to fly there, all told?”\n\n“I’m sure it’s still there. He wouldn’t have built it without ensuring its survival.” Enora turned around, gazing at the dragon’s wings. “You’re faster than Aylaryl was, but it’ll probably still take you a week to reach the pass through the mountains. Then a few days through it, and a few more into the desert. Call it two weeks.”\n\n“That’s easy enough.” Revaramek curled his neck, rumbling. “That flower certainly _looks_ the part, if it _is_ some medical herb we’re after. But that feels far too simple.” He snorted, flaring his frills. “I’ll tongue-kiss the Tea Kettle’s magnificent moustache if turns out Asterbury just sent us to hunt down a flower.”\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Oh, gods,” Mirelle said, laughing. She put her face in her hands. “I did _not_ need that mental image.”\n\nJekk groaned, shaking his head. “I rather doubt High Commander Elrind would appreciate it, either.”\n\nRevaramek grinned. “Oh, he’d be honored, I’m certain.” He tossed his head. “Or he’d tell me to go hornswaddle a codswallop.” He waggled his fingers at the book, and Enora turned the page for him. “I wish it had more information, though. As much as I believe we need to investigate, I hate wasting precious time on a mere possibility.”\n\n“I know, Rev, I know.” Mirelle reached up and gently rubbed the dragon’s nose. “But I agree with you. And I know you’re worried that Nyra’s time is short, but you think she has years left at least, right?”\n\nThe dragon nodded, glumness in his voice. “Years, yes. But how many, I do not know.”\n\nMirelle cupped his muzzle between her hands. “As short as that feels, Rev? It still gives us plenty of time to save her. Look at it this way. If it’s a two-week journey to the oasis, then even with an extensive investigation, we can be home again in less than two months. Maybe even with something to help her, or a new lead. And if the trip’s a bust? That just means Jekk and the others would have had over a month to study all these books. By the time we return, they might have a better idea of where to look next.”\n\n“You’re right, Mirelle.” Revaramek licked her hand, then lifted his head and smiled down at her. “It’s settled, then. We’ll go to the desert. I know you’ve always wanted an excuse to see it.”\n\nMirelle wiped her hand off on her breeches, grimacing. “I think that was _you_, actually.”\n\n“Nonsense!” The dragon’s smile grew. “Before we go, I’d love for you all to meet the family you’re going to help me save. Mirelle?” He swept a wing towards the exit. “If you’re free, it would be my honor to introduce you to Nyramyn and Korakos.”\n\nMirelle offered him a formal bow, then followed him towards the door. “It would be mine too, Rev.”\u0026nbsp;   \n  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \nThat's all for now! If you've enjoyed, please click the FAVE button, and leave a comment with your thoughts!","series":{"name":"Revaramek the Resplendent","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1622010-revaramek-the-resplendent-chapters-ninety-two-ninety-four.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1630189-revaramek-the-resplendent-chapters-ninety-eight-one-hundred.json"}}