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Melbin had been kind enough to lend them the first floor of his home for the afternoon. Selvanna and Karniel moved the large dining table into the den, shoving furniture aside. In Melbin's study, Karniel stole a stack of folded parchment meant for a folio, which he tossed over the table like a dining cloth.

Korlyon hovered near Mathus at one end of the table while Cathka poured mead from a stout bottle into a tray lined with four snifters and one much larger stein. Karniel, at the table's center with Selvanna across from him, asked her, “How is your memory of Dawn's layout?"

“Aside from the changes to the Emerald Ward, I doubt it's any better than yours."

“You can fill in the ward, then. Cathka?"

From the breast pocket of the Sebodal tailcoat she wore, Cathka retrieved his gold chain conduit and tossed it to him. “I charged it as much as I could afford, my conduit's not faring much better at this point, though."

“I won't need much," Karniel said as he pictured a map of Sepulcher of Dawn in his mind. The neighborhoods around Lake Umbra changed constantly, but the floating layers of the city changed little over the centuries. It took a lot of time and money to alter the canals cutting through all those different tiers and wards. The only exception was the Emerald Ward, which new rulers changed to their image, and Mortel's Church had been no different.

Karniel signed a series of glyphs with the chain wrapped in his hand, then placed his palm on the unfolded sheet of parchment. Tendrils of ink spiderwebbed out across it, forming a layout of the different tiers inside Sepulcher of Dawn. They all watched, except for Cathka, who came around with a glass in each hand. She passed one to him and said, “Memory is as sharp as ever."

“Let's hope. It will need to be," Karniel said. Except for one end of the sheet, which remained blank for the Emerald Ward, four diagrams stretched across the parchment, each one a map of the roads and canals cutting through the different tiers of Sepulcher of Dawn. He took a drink and sighed. “Is that mango I taste?"

“It is."

“Mmm, Melbin really has outdone himself."

Selvanna rolled her eyes. She still held onto her poleaxe, and with her other hand signed the spell needed to create a layout of the Emerald Ward. “There. Now what?"

“Cathka?"

But Cathka had already opened her purse, retrieving from it a stick of graphite that she handed to Karniel. “Thank you, darling." She stepped back so Karniel could pace up and down the table. He studied the layout carefully, trying his best to imagine the precise location of each anchor Dialdon would need to place. Eventually, he started marking locations along each petal of the different tiers, saying as he did, “Mathus you remember when we sacrificed those poor souls to Basphemen?"

“Unfortunately."

“This isn't much different, however, without an active conduit capable of absorbing that energy, trying to gather it into one place will be incredibly volatile. The energy will need to be stabilized and anchored, with a network of distribution so those in the Emerald Ward can still tap into it."

“So we need to destroy these anchors?" Korlyon asked.

“Not quite." Karniel finished marking the last anchor and took a drink from his snifter. Still studying the map, he said, “If Dialdon succeeds we may still be able to stop him, but if we destroy an anchor and he tries to cast his spell, well, there's a fair chance all that will remain of the City of Tiers is a crater. Not to mention what an explosion on that scale would do to the stability of this plane."

Selvanna said, “The fact he's even willing to risk that means he's beyond help."

“The good news is that it's unlikely he has the anchors all in place," Karniel said. “They likely had hinged their hopes on using Mathus rather than creating another Heart, meaning it will take them time before they are ready for the ritual."

“What are these anchors like?" Cathka asked.

“Large chunks of crystal or metal, more than likely," Karniel said, “Inscribed with glyphs specific to the spell Dialdon will cast. They likely will be hidden as some gaudy decor, like a statue of Mortel or something. These we can attempt to carve a spell to reverse the process, something Mortel and I developed in case our original ritual went catastrophically awry."

Selvanna glared at Karniel. “I'm not interested in sabotaging the ritual. We need to stop Dialdon."

“And we will," Karniel said, “But the five of us are not much against the entire Church. We need allies before we try anything. Meaning we will need to return to the City of Tiers soon. Today preferably, and with a plan we can present them that is more robust than invading the Emerald Ward."

“And how are we going to hide him?" Cathka pointed across the table to Mathus.

Selvanna's fist clenched at her side. “Much as I'd rather not, I think I have an idea for that."

***

Each of the Emerald Cities had, in varying sizes, settlements of dragons that dated back to the Emerald Sage. In Sepulcher of Dawn, one petal of the city's fourth tier made up the remains of that settlement. When Karniel had visited the City of Tiers, millennia ago, dragons ruled the fourth tier, but their numbers shrank, generation after generation, and now all that remained was the single petal.

The architecture of the Ward of Wings was noticeably different from most of the Emerald Cities. It carried age. Magically sculpted stone buildings rose high into the air with landings and open balconies for creatures to fly place to place. Magically propelled streetcars carried people and freight along steel beams that ran overhead. Its merchants crafted conduits of all kinds, made jewelry and clothing from shed scales woven together, and large trees tinged with violet bark and bloomed like dandelions lined the avenues. The plants were magical creations, made based on whatever world dragons came from, and absorbed sound like a sponge did water.

Karniel found it dreadfully disorienting, but, given how “spirited" dragons could be, he understood why they put so much work in dampening the loudness of their people. He stood with Cathka and Korlyon, the wolf stripped of his armor, all of them wearing different illusions as a ferry carried them down a fall and into the Ward of Wings.

The ferry stopped once it reached the ward, and all passengers who wanted into the neighborhood needed to get off before the ferry circled around down a canal to another waterfall that led to the third tier of the city. Here they came upon a wall meant more to direct traffic than keep out invaders. It stretched the span of a hundred paces, between two different canals, with large, open gates in its center. Across its face had been sculpted a bas relief that detailed a vista of Kyvath, the world dragon's claimed to come from.

The trio had hoped to slip in with the travelers who also exited the ferry, but the guard at the gate grabbed Karniel's arm as he tried to slip past.

“Stop," the dragon said. He was a Razorscale, wielding a glaive that no doubt acted as his conduit and wearing a gambeson fitted and tied in the back so his wings could extend unhindered. His horns forked in two and swept back and up, almost making it look like a buck's freshly growing antlers. His scales were navy, teal, and forest green colors that played across his hide in painted streaks.

He was young. Barely taller than Karniel. “I beg your pardon," the bat said, disguised now as an anthro stallion with a docked tail.

“You and your companions," the dragon said, having put his tail in Cathka and Korlyon's way. “You are not among our regular travelers or residents. What is your business in our home?"

On the other side of the gate, another Razorscale had stopped a couple making their way through. They answered simply, and the guard, sensing no lies, let them on their way.

“We wish to speak to the clan elders of this settlement," Karniel said. Subterfuge wasn't an art that worked on dragons once they caught wind of you.

“Travelers don't ask for an audience with our elders. What are your names?"

Karniel cringed. Cathka stepped to his side, “I am Cathka Emberplume, a mage in need of your people's help."

The Razorscale's red eyes narrowed on her. “And your companions' names?"

“Korlyon," the young wolf replied. Karniel took a surreptitious step back. By now, the crowd from the ferry had thinned and the other guard had stepped over.

He held up his palms before the two dragons to show he remained unarmed. “Before I give you my name, I wish to provide a few simple truths. One, the three of us come in peace. Two, Sepulcher of Dawn is in danger. Three, we wish to save the souls of this city and need your help."

The grip on their weapons tightened. The dragon who stopped them said, “Your name. I will not ask again."

Karniel squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “I am Karniel the Great."

Mercifully, the guard decided to bury his glaive in Karniel's shoulder, tail sweeping behind his ankle and yanking Karniel towards him. He could have stopped it, he saw and heard it coming, but they needed these dragons to trust him. He was slammed to the cobblestone street, wind knocked out of him while the dragon signed a glyph and dispelled the illusion Karniel wore.

“What makes you think you're welcome here, Scourge?" the dragon snarled and spat in his face.

Karniel's head spun. He heard Korlyon and Cathka both being kept back by the other guard, no violence passing between them yet, fortunately.

Coughing, Karniel sucked in a breath and pushed past the pain in his shoulder. He growled at the haughty dragon, “Don't welcome me… urgh, but your people will need me if you don't want to be sacrificed to make another would-be god."

“Subdue him," the other guard said. “I will call an escort."

The dragon pinning him signed a glyph over Karniel's face. “The rumors about your old resilience being gone better be true, for your sake." The hand that signed the glyph covered Karniel's face and a wave of lethargy coursed through the palm into him. “Sleep," the dragon hissed, and Karniel obeyed.

***

Korlyon, in particular, disliked the idea of leaving Mathus in Selvanna's protection, but the simple fact was illusions took more work to maintain on her body, and she could not lie nor stand beside her new companions while they lied.

The Razorscale Safehouse existed under the southern shore of Lake Umbra. One could only reach it via the phase glyphs passed down through the Razorscale clan. It acted as a stopping point for dragons, built over a millennia ago to allow her kind to flee through a long stretch of tunnels should Sepulcher of Dawn come under threat. It never had, but clan Razorscale inspected the safehouse thoroughly each year, resupplied its larders, and made sure the tunnels remained structurally sound.

Selvanna had never even taken Dialdon here. There had been some close calls where she considered it, but to bring non-draconics here meant exile from the clan. As an exile, Selvanna had nothing to really lose. Except her life, but, assuming the schedule for inspections had not changed, no one should disturb the place.

The safehouse, built for dragons, was large enough to easily accommodate them. The larders remained untouched, and the food inside magically preserved. At the time of construction, they estimated an evacuation could be a week's long affair, so there were rooms with bunks for Razorscales to live while they protected and ushered their kin to safety. Along with a large kitchen to prepare food, an armory stocked with everything needed to repair weapons and armor, and several stations where large, obsidian orbs almost as tall as Selvanna, housed energy to recharge a conduit.

Mathus rested in a lounge that looked out into the lake. The view came from an enchantment that made the stone appear transparent, so from the lounge it looked as if one saw out a window with an underwater view of Lake Umbra. The lounge had tables, a game board with stone pieces where one might play Cloud Carving. One of those large obsidian orbs dominated the room's center, and Selvanna almost missed Mathus. He sat behind it in a nook, leaning against the window when Selvanna found him.

Her maw opened to speak, but something about his expression stopped her. He remained quiet, so eventually Selvanna tried, “Mathus?"

He started and faced her. “Vanna, I thought you were checking on things?"

“I've checked all the rooms. Safehouse is secure, but are you alright?"

Mathus touched his chest and glanced out the window. It occurred to Selvanna that he did not watch the fish swirling about the waters of the lake, but looked up toward the City of Tiers. “You think they will be alright?"

“As long as they make it to the Ward of Wings they should be fine."

“Karniel said your people despise him."

“They despise him, but so long as Karniel does not threaten the ward he will be safe, and they will know he means them no harm, regardless of their prejudice." Selvanna crossed the room and sat opposite Mathus along the window. Sunlight, filtered through the shallow waters of the lakefront, wavered between and over them. It made Mathus' skin look softer than she knew it to be, and she had to resist the urge to reach across the gap between them and pull him close. She said, “You are not just worried about your beloveds."

“I'm not," Mathus whispered. He tucked his knees to his chest and stared at the red cushion fitted in against the windowsill they sat on. “What if we're going about this all wrong?"

“And do you have a better plan?"

“No… I just, this whole conflict. If I tapped into my powers, really used them, I could probably stop all this myself. No risk to anyone. Instead, everyone else puts themselves in danger, and Dialdon might still succeed."

“He won't." Selvanna crossed the gap between them, her thigh brushing against Mathus' leg. Her tail sneaked under his arms and nudged his chin, getting him to look up at her as she said, “You are doing the right thing, Mathus. It is not right for you to carry this burden in your chest, but you are not just refusing to use the power you have, you are protecting all the souls Mortel tried to harvest for himself. Souls he and his church lied to. He told them they would be given a peaceful, good afterlife, and you are actually keeping that promise."

“I suppose… It can be hard to feel that way when I can't see those souls living their lives."

“Oh Mathus…" Selvanna hugged him against her, and they let the silence spill out between them. She did not have any way to comfort him. She did not know if it was right to use the Heart for this matter or not, and she did not envy the choices this tiny, young human needed to make. Mathus shifted himself so he could be closer against her, hooking his legs across her thigh. At a little scoot, she tugged him properly into her lap, and he wrapped his arms around her neck, resting his head against her chest.

A few moments more passed before he released a long, shuddering breath against her. “I'm sorry for this," he mumbled into her blouse.

She chuckled. “Sorry for what, Mathus?"

He burrowed his head deeper between her breasts and groaned as if he didn't want to say anything. He shook his head and leaned back a little. “You're going through so much," Mathus said, “And here I am asking you to take care of my anxieties. It doesn't feel fair—"

Her tail slipped around to his lips, shushing him. “We can care for each other. I never expected nor asked for this to be a one way street."

“You're right," he said. “I appreciate you, and I'm sure I'll figure this out."

She kissed his brow and whispered, “Were I able, I would give you a dragon's intuition. It would not make your burden easier, but it would at least allow you to not question your decisions so much."

“It's usually not such a hard decision to make," Mathus said.

“Mmm, have you ever considered what Mortel's Flock would think?"

“Um, no?" Mathus leaned back and he admitted, “I don't know much about the Church beyond how they've antagonized me for about as long as I've known Karniel."

“Then think about it like this," Selvanna said, “Regardless of who Mortel was, his word preaches that companionship and service to our fellow mortals is of the utmost importance. The Church became popular because, rather than center worship around a deity and the things represented by it, Mortel preached that worship came through acts of service, by being in community and caring for one another."

Selvanna let that sink in while Mathus chewed on his lip. Eventually he said, “It is hard to believe the person I spoke to cared about any of that."

“Given all we know, he likely did not, but he still had to ask himself, 'If I make myself the God of Mortals, as opposed to, say, Honivra, Goddess of Seasons, what do I ask my followers to honor and worship?'" Selvanna glanced out the window to the City of Tiers. “Despite knowing what Mortel was and how he got his power, when he died and I met Dialdon, I truly admired that mission and what it meant." She turned back to Mathus and offered him a bittersweet smile as memories of that time washed over her. “To live a good life, Mortel asked us to live it in service of each other. Something we dragons also teach our children, and something I know you've been doing all your life, Mathus."

Mathus blushed a little at that. “So, uh, what you're saying is, if I use the Heart in service of others, the spirits of Mortel's afterlife would understand that?"

“Exactly," Selvanna whispered.

He settled back in against her. “Thank you for telling me all that. You really are wonderful, you know?"

Something snapped in her. Selvanna shifted her grip on him and stood. Mathus started, as he found himself suddenly in her arms and being carried across the room.

“Uh, Vanna?"

She didn't know how to describe it. Something about that blush, about easing the turmoil in him, about that little, simple compliment which he utterly believed. Quickly as she carried him, she explained, “The others shouldn't be back for several more hours, and I need to kiss you hard enough to make your jaw ache."

Mathus quivered against her, and the arms wrapped around her neck hugged tighter. “I… I think I need that, too."

She rushed into the barrack and dropped Mathus on the nearest bunk, over him in a breath, his hands on her horns, guiding her into the first of many kisses.

***

Tendrils of starlight coiled down from overhead, wrapping around Karniel. Their caress burned, numbing yet also enticing. In his ear, a chorus of hissing voices whispered. “Not ours. This file, foreign. Unable to open. Recommended action: quarantine, delete." The tendrils tightened and seared through Karniel.

He gasped, snapping awake sore like he'd been wrapped in red hot chains.

His head spun, and Karniel realized he hung upside down in the middle of a chamber. He had been strung up by his ankles, arms bound behind his back in heavy chains with a leash wrapped around his neck, bolted to the floor to keep him from so much as trying to flop around in the air. His shoulder still stung, but it and his shirt had been mended with magic.

His ears flicked and turned as his aural senses took in things before his eyes could. Korlyon and Cathka were behind him, standing with a crowd of dragons, and in front of him sat six elder dragons. Each easily eleven feet tall, their bulk crowding out the front of the chamber. They wore only loincloths, sashes, and silver and gold jewelry. Chains around their necks, anklets, rings, pendants, piercings, and chimes hung from horns. Not all these adornments at once, but spread among the different dragons. The elders of the Ward of Wings.

Karniel cleared his throat and said, “I suppose this is the welcome I should have expected." They studied him for a moment, and Karniel's ears folded back. “Well? Go on, introduce yourself and let's begin this assembly."

The Razorscale of the six, a silver dragon with long, tendril-like whiskers, turned over the warhammer in his hand and let the head fall hard to the stone floor in a thud. He bounced it three more times and said, “This council is called in honor of our ancestors. May their spirits and their wisdom guide us. I, Sorkahn Razorscale, speak for my clan."

Down the line the other five spoke:

“I, Arola Ironclaws, speak for my clan."

“I, Zevbelst Openwing, speak for my clan."

It went on. Arola was a ruby and gold dragoness with a lush mane of crimson hair that swept down her back—Zevbelst fiery oranges mixed with splotchy bronzes. Vynnamay Firefang with two long fangs almost resembling tusks. Sabraan Stilltail's green scales were splotchy, fading in color, and cracked with age in places. Kivaan Halehorn scales resembled polished granite, and the six horns extending in a fan at the back of his skull were all capped in gold.

Karniel swallowed the urge to interrupt each of them in turn. When finally they finished, Kivaan, farthest from Sorkahn, said, “May no lies darken our hearts or minds."

Karniel said, “Am I allowed to tell you why we're here? My companions and I have a long week ahead of us, and you lot are already setting us behind."

“If you cannot abide by our ways, then we have no reason to trust you," Zevbelst said.

“You darken our door, Scourge, prophesying doom. What could possibly be worse than letting one of the Great Defilers among our people?" Sorkahn asked.

“This again," Karniel rolled his eyes, which really amounted to all the scorn he could produce in his current state. “We did not sacrifice a single dragon to produce the Heart. What more do you want? An apology signed by a witness and one of your notaries?"

“It would be a start," Arola said. “You know better than to speak to our kind, so it must be desperation that brings you here. Why did you come, trying to sneak into our domain like a serpent?"

Karniel remembered why he never missed the company of dragons. To think people had the gall to accuse him of being garrulous. “Dialdon and the cardinals of the Church of Mortel plan to create another Heart by sacrificing the souls of Sepulcher of Dawn." A tremor worked its way through the hall, but Cathka and Korlyon must have already said as much, for none of the elders reacted to that news.

Vynnamay said, “If what you believe is true, then our people would be forced to declare war on the Church."

“While we loathe its presence," Sabraan said, “We have tolerated its existence because we have no desire to tell the nons what to do with their souls or faith."

The “nons." A draconic word Karniel had not heard in centuries that simply meant those not dragons. They used it not only for sapient creatures, but the feral beasts of the world, too.

Vynnamay asked, “What is your proof? If you expect us to act, it must be substantial."

“The word of Dialdon himself, relayed by one of your own."

“One of ours?" Zevbelst asked.

“Selvanna Razorscale—"

Sorkahn spat on the floor and snarled, “The Wayward have no clan."

“Fine, fine," Karniel corrected, “Selvanna of Clan Razorscale discovered the truth and forced Dialdon to admit it. He told her no lies. Her word is our proof."

“The word of a Wayward is worth almost less than a non's," Sabraan said. “Where is Selvanna to speak these words to us?"

“When she learned the truth, she attempted to stop them, killing a cardinal and injuring Dialdon. She escaped into the night with our help."

“We know of your altercation in the Emerald Ward," Vynnamay said.

“Then you know why it is more dangerous for her to walk the streets of Sepulcher of Dawn than me."

“And what of the Vessel your party escaped with?" Sorkahn asked.

“Safe and under Selvanna's protection," Karniel answered.

“You understand we will not be satisfied with stopping Dialdon, don't you?" Sorkahn said. He raised his hammer and pointed it at Karniel. “Any knowledge of how to construct another Heart should be destroyed with the Church. Including the Scourge who helped make the first, and the Vessel that carries the second."

Karniel made an overdramatic shudder. “Oh, no, what have I done? The dragons wish to kill me."

“You mock me?" Sorkahn growled.

“Peace," Sabraan said. “The Scourge only wishes to rile you."

“I'm just rather tired of telling all you dragons that I've no intention of making another Heart. It went rather poorly for me the first time."

“Your knowledge and the Vessel are both dangers to this world, and given how easily the Church subdued you—"

“That fight was hardly fair! Give us some amount of credit. No one is capable of finding Mathus right now, and the only danger I'm in is the one I walked into. Do you think I'd have allowed myself to be strung up like game if this wasn't important? I humbled myself for your people, I would appreciate some amount of respect in kind."

“You have never given our people a good reason to trust you," Arola said.

“You speak as if I've never been upfront with your people, either. Honestly, you know when I'm lying to you and somehow it's still easier to get the nons to believe I'm telling the truth." Karniel flashed his glare across the lot of them. “If you wish to kill me, do so later when all this is said and done. Unlike you 'supposed' elders, I've lived long enough to actually have insight on how to handle this situation. And my solution doesn't have you going to war and needlessly wasting the precious few of your people that remain in a needless conflict. Something I know, in the pits of your hearts, even yours Sorkahn Razorscale, is something you dread to think about."

He finally drove something through those dragons' thick skulls. They stared at him in silence, a range of emotion broadcast through the ways their wings clenched or relaxed, the tension in their necks, the flash of anger in Sorkahn's eyes. The silver dragon snarled and signed a glyph. The snap of his fingers rang throughout the chamber, and Karniel's chains and leash disappeared. He managed to twist and land on his shoulder instead letting his face catch his fall. Groaning, Karniel rolled over, hearing the heavy stomp of Sorkahn. “Honestly you could be a little more—"

A large, silver gauntlet of a fist crashed into Karniel's sternum, knocking the wind from him. He recoiled, and Sorkahn caught his throat and slammed him down into the floor, pinning Karniel there in his grip. Breathless, wheezing, Karniel barely noticed Cathka crying out his name. The silver dragon was stronger, bigger, and easily strangled Karniel as he knelt beside Karniel's flailing body. He kicked and bucked, unable to break free of that iron grip.

Sorkhan leaned down and whispered into his ear, “Don't claim that you know what I fear, Scourge. You are meek and powerless against the strength of any dragon, any of my clan. We will do as we please, and decide your fate accordingly."

He kept talking, while Karniel's vision began to blur. His chest then his head began to pound. He realized he could not free himself, and that this demonstration was meant to kill Karniel's pride, not his body. Yet, as consciousness began to fade, it was not darkness that closed in, but white light. Flecks, like fireflies circling overhead. Past the sound of Sorkahn's morbid gloating, Karniel heard another voice ask, “Can it even be reformatted? Not our program. File type: unrecognized. Test needed."

Those lights began to collect along his attacker's body, silver scales glowing in a ghostly halo.

“Test needed. Sorkhan Razorscale will extract data."

That grip on Karniel's throat tightened, and he understood now his life was in danger. Not just his but Mathus', and every damn soul in the Emerald Cities. Karniel reached up and grabbed Sorkahn by his whiskers, tugging hard enough that the scales stretched, then ripped right from his face. Dark blood spurted from the wounds on Sorkahn's muzzle, but he remained unmoved.

Karniel noticed the only sounds came from his struggling with Sorkahn. Had the rest of the room somehow been frozen? Muscles flagging, burning for air, Karniel did the last thing he could think of: he grabbed Sorkahn by his cheekbones and dug his thumbs, claws first, into the dragon's eyes. Sorkahn barely growled as Karniel blinded him, desperate for any escape, he forced his thumbs through the dragon's skull, feeling the digits worm through viscera, nerves, tissue, claws sinking deep into the other dragon's brain. Sorkahn went rigid. Then, even possessed by the stars, his body went slack as Karniel's did, his wrists, arms, and face covered in the dragon's blood.

Sorkahn collapsed over him, the penumbra of light leaving his body. Karniel's world spun, those lights flashing over him as they spoke:

“It resists."

“Will it remember this instance?"

“Irrelevant. Reset simulation to point KV0672193."

Like waking from a dream, Karniel lurched up, coughing for breath. Sorkahn knelt beside him. He grabbed Karniel by the cheeks and yanked him face to snout with the bigger dragon. “Are we clear, Scourge?"

Karniel's world spun, but he was still smart enough to nod and mutter, “Yes."

Sorkahn shoved him away and went back to his place among the other elders. While Karniel struggled to get his bearings on what in the hells happened to him, Sabraan ordered, “Tell us your plan, Karniel, and we will determine whether we aid you or not."

***

Mathus' back arched across the sheets, fingers curling into fists around a pillow. This bed, big enough for a dragon larger than Selvanna, was far more comfy than their first night together. Face flushed, he looked down his naked body to find Selvanna between his thighs, his legs hooked behind her horns. Her maw wrapped his cock in a warm, sucking muzzle that undulated as her forked tongue curled up and down his length.

Her eyes, half-lidded, shining red, watched him with nothing but adoration and affection. He huffed and collapsed back against the sheets. Just her gaze enough to get him closer. Selvanna's hand slipped up his stomach, palm smooth and pebbly against his skin. The heat from her body so intoxicating. Mathus bit his bottom lip, whimpering while her tongue teased around the glans of his dick. Swabbing across his urethra, drinking up his arousal, and coiling back down his length. Her skills with her tongue should not have surprised him, but Mathus had to fight desperately not to cum as she worked him over, fingers caressing his nuts.

Feeling Mathus' pulse in her maw was a delight for Selvanna. Her little human, thighs clenching around her head while she sucked and licked. She did not so much as bob her head, just used the suction, the spit, the licks her maw could dole out to send him into rapture. Pleasuring another was such a simple joy, and making Mathus like this ignited a hunger in her. Selvanna wanted to keep him like this as long as she could. Her adorable, randy pet to pleasure and tease.

“Vanna… I'm… fuck…" Mathus whined, signaling his orgasm. His descent into bliss. Selvanna relished how his balls clenched in her fingers, how is dick throbbed and pulsed inside her maw. She felt every flex and twitch work its way through his body before his cum found its way to her maw. She had not tasted it yet, but ever since their first night together, the desire for his seed had grown in the back of her mind. He did not disappoint.

“Mmmf," Selvanna whimpered, her maw going mercifully still for Mathus. It was almost too much stimulation for him to handle. She walked that fine line between stinging pleasure and painful overstimulation right through his climax. He panted, looking down to find Selvanna's eyes shut, tail and wings very still as his orgasm throbbed and slowed down.

Mathus released his leg lock, and Selvanna slowly backed away, tongue slurping one final time across his shaft before she snaked across the bed, over him, her lips coming pressed to his. His mouth filled with her tongue, her drool and his cum a viscous combination of fluids she thrust into his mouth. Mathus moaned, cock throbbing across his belly while his hand reflexively reached to tease across her breast. Her floral drool mixed with his cum was a strange, sweet and salty mix, but he found it more enticing the longer they held the kiss. One swallow of the cocktail turned to two, then three, until he simply sucked on her tongue as it pushed down his throat in one final tease.

Finally, Selvanna let Mathus come back up for air, saying as she got into position to straddle his hips, “How was that?"

“It was fantastic," Mathus breathed, gasping when he felt Selvanna's tail line him back up with her sex. He grabbed her thighs and said, “W-wait."

A little flash of frustration passed over Selvanna's muzzle. “What?"

“Can I return the favor?"

That gave Selvanna pause. She asked, “A-are you sure? I can be, um, quite pungent down there."

Mathus frowned. “What is that supposed to mean? Of course I want to."

Selvanna hesitated. “It's just, I've found most males who aren't dragons don't particularly like it." That included, for better or worse, Dialdon, who got rather annoyed if she let herself go and made too much of a mess of his fur.

Mathus stroked up and down her thigh. “Every part of you I've touched, tasted, smelled has made me want more. I doubt this will be different."

“Sage save me," Selvanna cursed. She doubled back over and held his face in her hands, nuzzling his brow. “You really are just determined to make me weak all over for you."

“Heh, hey," Mathus whispered. He kissed her, briefly, then said, “I want to make you feel good, it's not that special."

“You want me to feel wanted, Mathus," Selvanna growled. “And that is special for a dragoness like me."

“It shouldn't be." Mathus caressed her cheeks, tracing his thumb across the sharp scales of her cheekbone. “You're kind and strong—"

“Foul tempered and loud."

Mathus giggled. “Have you met my husband?"

“Hehehe, perhaps you just have a type."

“This has felt very natural."

“For me as well. It's hard to not just steal you away."

“Now that I won't allow." Mathus chuckled and nosed her snout. “Tempting as you make it."

“I won't, I promise."

“I know you won't," Mathus smiled sweetly. “I trust you, Vanna."

“Why is it every time you say that it feels like a wonder to me?"

“You've earned every bit of it. Now roll over, will you? I still want to taste you."

She hesitated. “If it's not something you enjoy you don't—"

Mathus shoved ineffectually on her shoulder. “Just get on your back and let me spoil you."

Even on the dragon-sized bunk, it was a minor dance to move so Selvanna lay on her back. Compared to the night before in the barn, lanterns hung every ten paces from the ceiling lit the small barrack clearly. Mathus easily admired the pebbly, white scales that surrounded Selvanna's dark, pouting lips. The white scales flushed red from her need. She was wet enough down there that arousal already dripped down into her taint and across her tail.

Mathus sat on his knees, straddling her tail and staring for so long that Selvanna asked, “Is… are you having second thoughts?"

“Uh, no!" Mathus did feel trepidation; though, it came from elsewhere. He placed unsteady hands on her thighs and whispered, “Can you believe I'm still worried about not meeting your expectations?"

She sat up and kissed his brow. “You shouldn't. I will guide you if you need guiding, okay?"

“Thank you," he craned his head back and kissed her properly. “I froze up cause you're stunning, that's all."

A little growl rumbled through her chest. She flopped back down and grumbled, “Just get to work before I put you to work."

Unable to suppress a grin, Mathus crouched down before her sex, face hoving over it. The scent of her overpowered any other smell. Heady with heat and spice, ripe like blossoming flowers. Had it grown stronger since the night before? Mathus remembered how it tasted, and his dick already started to throb, this close to tasting her again. He pressed his face to her folds, lips kissing hers, spreading her labia and smearing arousal across his chin and cheeks.

Sweet, salty and tinged with bitterness, lined in sharp, pungent spice. Her sex, hotter than the rest of her body, did not dissuade his tongue from dragging up her crevice. His mouth filled with her arousal, warming like a freshly brewed spiced tea. The heat of her another layer of eroticism. He shuddered, feeling a bit weak and moaning. Selvanna sucked in a breath, his name whimpering out her maw: “Mathus… oh…" nothing more, but it could have been begging for how it made Mathus' chest race. He worked his tongue along her nether lips, licking up all her arousal, then forking between her lips, along them, even around those blushing white scales. Their texture so different from the supple heat of her sex.

He angled down where her vent was, needing to wedge his face into her sex. Their size difference made it difficult to even run his tongue along her opening. Selvanna's sex clenched against his muscle in response. Those walls fluttered, the heat making sweat bead Mathus' brow. Perhaps it was proximity, but she did smell different. Enticing in a way that made his mind fog over. Mathus' tongue worked circles around her vent, smearing against her opening and bathing his tastebuds in her arousal. His dick jerked, a spurt of precum falling against Selvanna's tail. He stuffed his face into her muff, nostrils pressed flush to her labia, unable to breathe while he worked his tongue deep as he could. In that moment, Mathus didn't care if he drowned in her, lapping in and out her passage, drinking more and more of her nectar.

It surprised Selvanna just how much she felt it. A human's tongue was hardly suited for digging deep and pleasuring a dragoness's cunt, but it being Mathus did something to her. Some kind of lightning to his touch—his hands resting on her thighs sharp in sensation. Her body was hotter than it had been last night, and that heat made her wings fan out and hang off the bed. She grabbed one of her breasts, mashing it in her palm before squeezing. A guttural moan fell out of the dragoness before she bent her neck down, pressing the tit to her lips, suckling on herself.

Mathus' chest burned for air and his tongue ached from being outstretched for so long. He came up for a breath, panting, and found Selvanna sucking her breast. Her eyes snapped open, and she growled at him. She asked, “Why did you stop?"

“I just wanted to make sure—"

“Keep going, please Mathus."

Her voice was a mixture between frustration and need, the warble of a growl underneath it.

He tongued her vent some more, but the soreness of his tongue got the better of him, and Mathus decided to switch positions, lapping up her labia to her clitoral hood. Her clit, thick as Mathus thumb, shot out to a tapered point, a little spike of pleasure, the nub too soft to do more than bend backwards as he tongued it. Selvanna's tail slapped the bed.

“Yes! Right there!"

Mathus wrapped his lips around her clit, swirling around the little nub. Selvanna groaned, hand closing around his head to hold him. A forceful little shove made him get to teasing her more thoroughly. That bud rested comfortably against his tongue, and Mathus thrust the tip of his muscle down against her hood, dancing along the base of it. He sucked, finding Selvanna's clit to be much like Korlyon's cock when just the tip had been teased from its sheath.

Selvanna could barely take it. Her back arched against the bed as she cursed, “Sage's slit… fuck!" It had been centuries since she last felt this sensitive, but Mathus' tongue… each little bump of those tastebuds ravishing her clit. She bit back a roar when his fingers slid into her vent. Index, middle, and ring stuffed straight to the knuckle. She clenched her folds, and they twisted around inside her. Selvanna moaned, the pressure in her cunt, the tension in her belly growing. Her fluids gushed around Mathus' fingers as they sawed in and out of her. He curled them around, probing, testing her walls all over, raking fingertips across her sex in sharp sparks of pleasure.

Selvanna just needed a little more to get to the edge, her chest heaving. The heat in her boiled as she snarled, “Up!"

“Mmmph?" Mathus grunted, lips still glued to her.

“Fucking… c-curl your finger up towards my clit."

Good boy that he was, Mathus did as he was told. His fingers flipped around inside her, and now when his knuckles slapped her fat, sloppy cunt-lips, he jabbed her g-spot. His fingers were just long enough to reach, but he got there, and Selvanna screamed. Her grip on Mathus tightened, her body screwed up with tension, eyes closed. She clamped down on him, but Mathus only redoubled his efforts, digging his fingers into her, splitting her walls and hitting that bundle of nerves. He sucked hard on his clit as he did, and she exploded around him. A gush of hot, dragoness cum sprayed around his knuckles, splashing his chin and neck, coating Mathus' wrist. And he just kept going, while Selvanna squirmed and whined, his fingers jamming into her, tongue undulating across the length of her clit.

It snuck up on her, sudden as a striking viper. All this fucking sharp sensitivity. The drool in her mouth unstoppable, needing to be swallowed regularly. Her sex so pungent it made the entire barrack stink of fertile dragoness. Fertile, much as a dragon could be, because Mathus had put her in heat. That's what she felt earlier. That spark inside her turned into this raging flame.

Now she had soaked the bed with her cum, and Mathus had moved to eating out her cunny again, greedily licking up the remains of her orgasm. But it was not enough. She released his head, panting and saliva dripping from her maw. “Mathus, mount me," she ordered in a growl. She did not mean to sound so aggressive, but she needed him and no one else inside her.

“Al-alright," Mathus said, also panting. He wiped the sweat from his brow, finding his whole body covered in a sheen of it. Had he not swallowed mouthful after mouthful of dragoness cum, he might have been thirsty. Clumsily, he stood on his knees between her thighs, cock throbbing over her cunt. He warned, “I-I'm not going to last—"

Selvanna grabbed his waist and snarled, “Just fuck me!" She yanked him into her, but Mathus' dick missed her vent, sliding messily against her scales and suddenly finding purchase in another hole that had been soaked and lubed by her nectar. Mathus doubled over her, groaning as his dick sheathed itself inside her tailhole. Compared to her cunt, it was a snug fit. Definitely not as wet as he expected, but still slick enough and inviting as any other ass Mathus had taken.

Selvanna moaned, that penetration sudden but not painful. Her pucker, a swirl of pale grey scales, flexed around the shaft now splitting her open. The pressure back there different but still scratching that need, the stretch of her anus a burning sensation that her heat addled state enjoyed.

“Gods, I'm—" Mathus sucked in a breath, trying not to cum as that asshole contracted on his length. “I-I'll take it out and—"

“No," Selvanna breathed. Maybe she could get off this way without having Mathus seed her increasingly fertile snatch. She curled her rear end up, grabbing her legs by her hamstrings and holding them there so Mathus could more freely fuck her. She said, “You can fuck me there, just keep fingering me, please."

“Okay," Mathus said. He braced himself with a hand on her round butt, the firm muscle under fine, soft scales hot as sunbaked stones. They locked eyes while he started to work his hips, both panting, Selvanna's forked tongue hanging out and drool dripping from it. Gods what Mathus wouldn't give to be big enough to kiss her right now. He had to settle for churning her insides up with his dick, that snug interior a warm and pliant furnace that massaged up and down his shaft. Eventually, he settled into a slow rhythm, and managed to look down.

Grey pucker caved in on his cock, clinging to his shaft as he pulled out, stretching backward till he forced himself back inside. Mathus cursed, barely able to contain himself a second time. He huffed and tried to focus on the pouting sex before him. His free hand parted those folds, fingers rubbing along her labia to the same pace as his slow thrusting until he worked them further down, circling her vent.

Selvanna almost snapped at him to stop teasing, but then those fingers split her open again and her head fell back against the sheets. “That's it Mathus," she sighed. “More, please."

Mathus picked up his pace, being careful not to force himself over the edge too quickly. His nuts churned as they smacked steadily against her tail. He worked his fingers faster, finding it all too easy to force his pinky inside her.

Selvanna released a rumbling growl. “Put your hand inside me."

Surprised, but unable to refuse her, Mathus did as she asked. He knew what fisting was, but never thought to try it on a partner before, but, given their size difference, he imagined it would not take much work. He hilted her again and paused, working all five of his fingers into a cone at her entrance. Selvanna hissed as he spread her. Her walls reflexively contracted, making it difficult a moment, but then she relaxed and suddenly his hand slipped inside her vent. He gawked at her sex, split open around his wrist. Selvanna's tail thrashed behind him, and she squirmed as her sex reflexively milked this new intrusion. More femme cum spilled in spurts around his wrist, and Mathus realized she had reached another, more minor peak.

Selvanna's toes curled in the air as she whimpered and moaned. Mathus' hand closed into a fist before working deeper inside her. Half his forearm disappeared in her tunnel before nudging against something firm. Her cervix, Mathus realized. He huffed, rotating his wrist a little in that clenching vent so his knuckles might grind against the spongy barrier. Quivering a little, he started humping her again, using the momentum of his thrusts to drag his fist up and down her passage. Each time his fist caught on her opening, he thrust forward and bottomed out inside her.

This only made Selvanna louder. The sensation of him fucking her asshole was a lovely little distraction, but the feeling of his hand inside her… Sage save her; she couldn't help but imagine it as a dragon's cock. Aside from the spade tip, it had all the proportions. She imagined a young, randy male pounding her, locking maws, scales the iridescent blues of Mathus' eyes in the light.

“Yes Mathus! Breed me!" she sang as she came around his fist again. Hard as the first time, her cunt milking his limb. Eyes shut tight, she ached for this fantasy version of Mathus to be real, to fill her with his clutch. He would have made such a good mate if only—

“Vanna!" Mathus hunched over her, moaning and trembling as he came. Her sensitive backside felt him twitch and spill his seed inside her. She watched him, a string of guilt and disappointment eating through her as she came down from an orgasm. But it faded soon as Mathus finally looked up at her, panting, flushed, face breaking into a smile. “Gods you're fantastic."

He was what he was, and he was more than Selvanna ever could have hoped for. She loved him, unafraid to know that now. Guided by a dragon's intuition, she knew for certain she loved him in a way only Dialdon ever matched. For Dialdon, too, had put her into a heat like this all those years ago. She might have even been in love with Mathus before she freed him from the Grand Temple. He was just so… so…

His brow furrowed. “Are you okay, Vanna?"

Selvanna had been holding her breath without knowing it. She snapped back into reality, her heat raging again. She shook her head, “I'm not. I need you inside me, now."

“You mean—"

“Yes!" Selvanna wrapped her tail around him and tugged Mathus backwards. She didn't even care about her heat anymore. Dialdon had never succeeded in breeding her, and she doubted Mathus might prove the exception. Potent as they were, even dragons had a hard time siring a clutch from any dragoness.

Mathus positioned himself accordingly, still unaware of Selvanna's heat. He pulled his hand out of her, getting a loud groan from the dragoness. His cock still dripped cloudy beads of cum, but Selvanna's drool and the pheromones of her heat had obliterated any refractory period he had. Mathus needed her just as badly right now.

His cock thrust inside her, and it was no dragon's dick, but it was his, and Selvanna savored every vein of it. That mushroom head which she clenched down on, his pubes soaked in her cum tickled her clit.

“That's it," Selvanna urged as she wrapped her legs around him. “Breed me, Mathus." He grunted and got to work. His hips smacked wetly to her crotch, thrusting without restraint. He doubled over her, elbows on her stomach, moaning into her abdomen. Her body burned, her wet sex this thing he could not stop ploughing into. He kissed the banded scales of her front, tongue dragging along the hot, armored flesh. It surprised him, the subtle salt and floral taste of it. Everything about her just enticed more out of him.

Mathus had not been prepared, however, for Selvanna's tail. The tip of it had snaked around to Selvanna's maw. She coated it in a healthy sheen of her viscous saliva before it coiled back around. Mathus' desperate humping paused when he felt it slide up against his crack. He gasped, feeling the hot, prehensile thing find his pucker and thrust right inside him. That pheromone laden drool soaking through the membrane there, making Mathus' back arch. Selvanna's fingers stroked along his spine as she whined, “Don't stop, come on. I need you, Mathus."

Clenching his teeth, that tail slipped deeper inside him. He took a shaky breath then kept working his hips. Each juddering thrust worked Selvanna's tail in and out of him. It curled just right to grind up and down along Mathus' prostate, and it only took a few desperate pumps to send him over the edge again. Mathus whimpered and moaned against Selvanna's stomach, eyes beading with tears as the orgasm overtook him.

“Seed me! Oh, Sage's slit… Mathus…" Selvanna babbled as she came with him, in tandem. Her body sensed her mate's seed, and it rewarded her with bliss. His cum pumped into her. Its every pulse convinced her more and more this human was hers. “Claim my womb," she begged, “Make me carry your clutch."

“Fuck, Vanna," Mathus breathed against her. Even as his orgasm slowed, he started working his hips again.

And Selvanna clutched him tighter with cunt, legs, and hands—even her wings wrapping around them as he rocked up and down. The pair descended deeper into this heat stricken haze, and all Selvanna could do was beg, “Don't stop. Don't ever stop… Mathus, oh Mathus," his name a miracle to her now, “Make me your mate."

And Mathus could only respond by raggedly fucking her until every muscle burned with exhaustion.

***

Something had changed in his perception. Karniel sensed them. Whispers from nowhere in his inner ear. If he cracked his eyes, letting them unfocus, starlight drifted in blurry rays across his vision. White strands of light stretching out like tendrils. After Karniel shared his plan for dealing with Dialdon, the elders put up a magical shroud to debate amongst themselves. This was when, without the distraction or demands of dragons, Karniel noticed that unsettling presence.

Even his feet on the floor felt unmoored, as if he might float off at any moment. He turned away from the elders, wrapped in a gauzy shroud, and faced the rest of the assembly hall. Sweeping up like an auditorium were rows and benches, sized for dragons, packed full with the people of the Ward of the Wings. The elders always held their meetings publicly, even though other dragons could not participate, their presence leveled a certain accountability to the six on the stage. In a viewing box, Cathka and Korlyon peered down with the guard who stopped them at the gate.

Karniel offered them a wave, then heard movement from offstage. He turned in time to see another Razorscale rush through the shroud before the elders. The assembly stirred. Karniel knew an emergency the only reason to disturb deliberations.

The shroud broke. Karniel saw the dragon who interrupted sign a glyph and whisper in draconic, “Bring the Scourge's companions to the Razorscale exit. Sorkahn and I will meet you there."

At the same time, Sorkahn said to Karniel, voice projected again for the assembly, “The Church of Mortel and its hunters know Karniel is here and wish to take him into custody. Normally," Sorkahn fixed Karniel with a pointed look, “we'd gladly hand you over, but given the circumstances, we understand there are more important things at stake."

“I appreciate it, friend," Karniel said.

Sorkahn spat again. “Don't call us friends."

Arola said, “We will consider your plans and be in touch. You will remain under our protection until we decide what to do with you."

Sorkahn, holding his warhammer near its head, said, “Follow me, Scourge."

Karniel didn't question this act of generosity. He did say, “Perhaps if your stooge didn't dispel my illusion, word would have never reached the Church's ears."

They followed the other Razorscale out into a back hall, through a staging area with sculptures of dragons and potted saplings of those sound dampening trees. They worked down a flight of stairs, at the base of which waited the dragon who stabbed Karniel earlier with Korlyon and Cathka at his side. The hippogryph did not wait for them to reach the bottom, but mounted the first two steps to hug Karniel tight.

“You great big idiot. Why did you have to get so mouthy, what if Sorkahn actually made good on his threat?"

“Assemblies are not where executions happen," Sorkahn said frankly as he passed the pair. “Unlike you nons, we honor the laws of those who came before us."

Karniel made a face at Sorkahn's back, then focused on Cathka. “I knew we'd be safe," he whispered. “But we will need to have a chat with Mathus when we get back to him."

“About what?" Korlyon asked while the dragons spoke in hushed tones in their own language.

“A complication," Karniel said, “One I truly wanted to believe would not rear its head during our lives."

“You mean the stars?" Cathka asked.

“We'll talk more about it later, and we'll fill you in Korlyon, I promise."

“Scourge." Sorkahn had finished speaking to his kin. Karniel had overheard their conversation, and knew what the young dragon, Sorkahn's son, had been instructed to do.

Karniel said, “Can't you call me by my name? I ought to be owed some respect."

“You've yet to earn that right," Sorkahn said. “Zevban will see you to our safehouse. You will be held there until we've determined what to do."

Korlyon blanched. “The Razorscale Safehouse?"

“What do you think I meant by our?"

Karniel stepped down and squeezed Korlyon's shoulder. The wolf kept silent, and he said, “You are putting a lot of faith in your son to hold us in place."

Zevban's wings puffed out. “I think I've proven myself capable of subduing you."

Karniel sneered. “Yes, a brave dragon attacking someone coming unarmed with no ill intent."

“Enough," Sorkahn growled. “He will check in with me regularly. If I don't hear from him, you and all you hold dear will be hunted by the Razorscales till you've been erased in equal measure."

“Yes, yes," Karniel waved his hand. “Now are we going? You surely have somewhere prepared to phase us there."

“We must stay. Zevban will lead you."

The young dragon's red eyes glowered, all but the streaks of teal scales looking black in the dimly lit hallway. Trying his best at intimidation, he growled at Karniel, “Do not even try to cross us."

Karniel held up his palms. “I've no intention to." He, of course, did not speak for any of companions.

***

Zevban's overall hostility kept them moving in silence, Korlyon and Cathka needing to almost jog to keep pace with the dragon's stride. Through a web of tunnels under the ward of wings, running along a canal for Karniel could hear it through the stone, they arrived at a chamber with a dais each of them mounted. Zevban signed the coordinates, and they made the short hop to the Razorscale safehouse.

Karniel and Zevban both recoiled, but the smaller distance travelled put less strain on them both. They arrived in a similar chamber inside the safehouse, lit by pale yellow lights, fueled by magic that flashed on soon as they appeared. While Karniel's head spun, and Zevban cursed, leaning his weight against his glaive, Cathka crossed the room to one of those large obsidian orbs that had been fitted into the wall.

Her jade necklace clacked against the orb. Zevban snapped, “What do you think you're doing?"

Cathka said as she signed a glyph, “Saving you from your own temper."

Much like when a mage opened their purse, circles of light appeared in the air between Zevban and Cathka. The dragon tried to lunge, but from those portals sprung black tendrils, dozens, with more portals opening up around Zevban. They restrained him quick as they sprung into existence. Zevban gnashed his teeth and struggled in their inky grip as the tendrils wrapped around his limbs and bound him together.

Zevban roared, “My father will hllk—" Three of those tendrils forced themselves into his mouth. Zevban gagged and tried to bite down, but his teeth did nothing to the ghostly beings. He squirmed as Cathka had him lifted into the air, wings pinned, thrashing tail dragged down and bound against his already trapped legs.

Karniel approached the restrained dragon and ran a finger along one of the tentacles. It was smooth and cold, wriggling a little under its shadowy flesh, like an eel yanked from the river. “Impressive stuff. This one of Basphemen's spells?"

“My brother's actually. Though he's never summoned so many at once."

“You'll have to show me how it's done sometime," Karniel said.

“It's draining, but Calth never used them to restrain someone against their will."

Karniel turned to Cathka. “Is that so? Should I guess what he did use them for?"

“Do either of you care at all about Sorkahn's threat?" Korlyon asked. “We didn't go to them to make enemies."

“Dragons are hotheaded," Cathka said, then nodded to Zevban's still thrashing form. “I didn't want him to attack Selvanna soon as he learned she was already here."

A strangled gasp erupted from Zevban. He snarled and coughed on the tendrils in his maw, trying to hurl threats through his wriggling gag.

“See what I mean?"

“It was the right call," Karniel said. “I don't think Selvanna or Mathus heard our scuffle. Dragons are obsessed with making things to dampen noise."

“They would still be getting their clothes back on even if they did hear something," Korlyon said, his ears folding back. “I can smell her from here."

Karniel sighed. “I'll go see what mess they made of each other. Keep Cathka and Zevban company, pup."

“I want my time with him, Karniel."

Karniel waved over his shoulder, “I'll remind him he owes you time. It's not our fault we have had to do things this way." Karniel would have liked time with Mathus, too. He told himself they just needed to survive this week, then a nice, long vacation in Sepulcher of Midnight.

He moved to the barracks, and when he turned a corner heard the pair whispering to each other:

“—should we be worried?"

“No, dragons are horribly infertile with our own kind. It's incredibly rare another specie's seed takes. Dia and I never once had any concerns about this sort of thing. I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I realized. I was just so carried away."

Karniel paused at the doorway to the barracks. He did not want to interrupt them, for they spoke in the hushed tones of two lovers. Wait for a lull. He heard Mathus say, “It will be okay. If something comes of it, we will handle it together."

“It is very unlikely. Our numbers have been shrinking for generations, and I've accepted my family's line will likely end with me no matter who beds me."

“I'm so sorry, Selvanna."

“What are you sorry for?" Selvanna chuckled. “Silly little man."

“You just sounded so crestfallen."

“About my people dying out, yes, but motherhood never suited me, anyways."

“I see…"

Sadness in Mathus' voice? Apparently all that talk about breeding the morning they'd first been attacked hadn't just been a random fancy. Karniel sighed, praying he would not need to discuss with Mathus why having children would be a horrid use of their time. He called through the open doorway, “Mathus? Are you in here?"

“Karniel?" Mathus yelped.

Karniel listened to them scramble out of bed, then said, “Yes, I'm sorry to interrupt, darling, but we need you both out here. Our plans went slightly awry, and the Razorscales thought it best to send us here as a sort of incognito imprisonment."

They got their things together while Karniel waited outside in the hall. Mathus came out trying to fix the part of his hair while Selvanna returned panting, hands, tail, and wings trembling. And she smelled. No wonder Korylon could scent her from across the compound. The stench of her sex was a pungent enough aroma it made Karniel cough and clear his throat. He covered his nose, feeling his blood begin to pump a little faster.

“Gods, you chose now to go into heat?" Karniel asked with a little scowl.

“I didn't choose this," Selvanna snarled. When she opened her mouth to speak, drool lined her jaws, trying to escape her maw.

Mathus, for his part, was flushed tip to toe and sporting an erection himself. He stepped in front of Selvanna, “This is my fault. I shouldn't have—"

“It's fine, darling. It will pass in a few days. Though, I imagine you, Selvanna, and Korlyon will all be different kinds of miserable."

Karniel led them back to the others, explaining along the way why they were brought here. By the time they reached the chamber, they found Korlyon holding a rag to his nose, tail tucked and ears folded. Cathka still acted unphased. And Zevban thrashed in his bindings like he'd first been put in them, those eely tendrils still holding him firmly in place.

Karniel said as they entered the room. “Selvanna, Mathus, this is Zevban. He plans to stay here with us. When he calms down we'll release him."

“Sage save us, of all the bad luck—you can release him now," Selvanna said.

Cathka's wings perked up. “Are you certain?"

“He's a whelp, but he is smart enough to not pointlessly challenge the five of us."

Cathka ended the spell and Zevban fell to the floor, collapsing across the stone. He staggered to his feet, panting, with drool leaking between his fangs. Dragons became complete messes when one of their kind got into a heat. Zevban wiped his muzzle clean and said, “Wayward, you will die for showing them this place."

“I will accept the clan's punishment when Dialdon has been stopped," Selvanna said. “The five of us needed to return to Sepulcher of Dawn, and this was the only safe place I thought we could house the Vessel."

Mathus stepped forward. “My name is Mathus of Morgen's Rest. I'm sorry we've invaded this space—"

“It was the Wayward who led you here," Zevban spat on the ground in front of Selvanna's feet. “I, Zevban Razorscale, will see to it that she is punished for betraying the secrets of our clan."

Mathus frowned, but before he might say more, Karniel grabbed his shoulder. “Leave it for now, Mathus. We've other matters."

On one side of the compound, Zevban stayed with Selvanna on the other. They assured Zevban they had no intention of fleeing the city, getting each of them to speak their intent so he knew no one lied. Karniel gathered Mathus, Korlyon, Cathka, and Selvanna in the lounge with the underwater view of Lake Umbra.

Korlyon now wore a makeshift mask, and Mathus continued to be distracted by Selvanna's scent, and the dragoness, who had only grown more irritable, stubbornly refused to leave when she learned Karniel had something important to say. They sat at one of the game tables, a dragon-sized pitcher of water with proportionate mugs for each of them. Poor Mathus needed both hands to drink from his.

Karniel said, “I wasn't sure whether I should bring this up any time soon, but recent events make me believe my dreams are more pressing than I thought."

“Dreams?" Selvanna asked. “You called us together for—"

“Drink your water and sit on your tail, dear," Cathka said, “You need to calm down."

“I'm fine."

“Selvanna, please," Mathus whispered. Underneath the table he squeezed her thigh.

“Dreams aren't always meaningless," Cathka said. “Go on, Karniel."

“Before I was freed from Dea's Cycle, I didn't dream often. Since that time, my dreams have been haunted by the stars."

Mathus and Cathka both perked up. “And you didn't think to tell us?" Mathus asked.

“Like we discussed before, I wasn't willing to take some nightmares as a prophecy of doom," Karniel said.

“What changed?" Cathka asked.

And Karniel explained his strange encounter with Sorkahn that only he remembered, with the added chore of explaining the visions Dea had given Mathus about the stars.

“These visions sound like the White Death," Selvanna said after Karniel had finished.

“White what?" Korlyon asked.

“A burning frost that consumed our home," Selvanna said. “If you believe the histories of our people, at least. We did not come to this world willingly, but fled our destruction." She looked at Karniel and asked, “And you're sure this isn't some spell someone placed on you?"

Cathka, who had been sitting beside him, stroked Karniel's back. “He would know a spell. Besides, what would any mage gain with making Karniel paranoid?"

“I don't really want to entertain ideas of falling stars or White Death," Karniel said.

“Do you think you could speak to them?" Mathus asked. He had been quiet, up until now staring at the table and deep in thought.

“I'm not sure how I would go about that," Karniel said.

“If they stop things again, try talking to them." Mathus chewed on his inner cheek. “If we knew literally anything about these things, then maybe we could better prepare for them."

“No harm in it, but it's not a meeting I plan to try and recreate. They seemed pretty invested in killing me."

“We do have a city to save," Cathka said with a little sigh before getting up.

“Where are you going?" Karniel asked.

“To contact our friends in the Lace and Lattice."

“Not alone, you're not," Karniel said as he got up.

Karniel did not take no for an answer, and, after making evening plans with Mathus, Karniel warped to the surface with Cathka. Korlyon stayed behind to “Wash that smell off my human," while Selvanna worked spells needed to sedate her heat.

The pair popped into an alleyway looking out on Cockle Street, Karniel now disguised as an especially big lion. Cathka said as they stepped out onto the street, “Let's hope this illusion keeps for a while. I'm not sure how I'll keep coming up with disguises if they keep failing so quickly."

“It'll be fine, darling. I cannot believe you wanted to go alone."

They waited on a carriage to pass down the street before crossing the cobblestone road to the other end of the sidewalk. Cathka said, “I assumed you would want some time with Mathus."

“Naturally, but I'm not going to let you put yourself at risk." They stopped in front of a tailor's; in a display window a mannequin wore a violet evening gown.

“Hardly in any danger. I could probably do without any illusions at all." The only magic Cathka used on herself was something to change the appearance of her fur. “What do you think of this dress?"

“Stunning for the right occasion. Though, I'm dubious we'll have any balls to attend in the near future."

“Mmm, any night with you can be an occasion for me."

Karniel scoffed. They continued heading down the block for the inn, and he said, “I'm not here because I think you need protecting, but because I want to protect you, Cathka."

“You couldn't drop it, could you?" Cathka hooked her arm around his.

“I know you think you need to serve me or some such nonsense, but it's just as important I do the same for you."

Cathka walked in step with him up to The Drunken Sage, and she nuzzled into his arm. “That a sign of change for you?"

“No, darling, contrary to what the world might think, I've always felt this way about the people I love. The whole world can burn long as I can keep you and Mathus safe."

***

Even Dialdon could not afford to ignore his father's summons. He crossed the grounds of the Great Temple with bags under his eyes, stopping at Mortel's tomb with Vestrid and Seljynn in tow. He had been under guard nonstop since Mathus' escape. They all expected another attack, but they had not been prepared for news that Karniel decided to consort with dragons.

They padded down the steps into the tomb, pausing only for a brief prayer. The subterranean portion of the Emerald Ward was laced with tunnels and mausoleums, some exhumed by new rulers, some flooded as canals were reworked. As they moved down the marble halls, Dialdon could hear water rushing behind the wall. The ceiling gave off a pale, magical glow soft as full moonlight, and along both walls there had been painted long, colorful murals depicting Mortel's life according to Church histories.

It unfolded, a landscape of lies that Dialdon tried not to think too much on. His head still ached, and if he did not keep his frustrations in check then that pounding in the side of his skull only worsened.

The long hallway ended at the tomb's vault with a large sarcophagus made of crystal rendered opaque. Even with mages reconstructing the body, Mortel's death had been an ugly, brutal thing best not seen. A temple guard stood at attention at the sarcophagus' foot, where a small silver altar held a golden statue of Mortel.

Dialdon said, “I would like a private audience with my father."

“Very well," Vestrid said with a little bow.

She and the two others moved out into the hall, and, as the statue filled up with an aura that channeled Mortel's soul, Dialdon signed a spell that ensured nothing could be seen or heard beyond this chamber.

The statue finally came to life, and looked up at Dialdon. “No bowing? What is the point of being a god without ceremony and respect, son?"

“You are not a god—just a spirit trying to cling to the power you lost."

“And yet, you still answer my summons."

A lance of pain shot from his ears to behind his eye, but Dialdon's twitching brow gave none of that away. “You wish for an update on your revival."

The statue's tails slapped the altar with a ringing clang. “Don't try to play coy with me, boy. Your little dragoness's betrayal shook the confidence of the cardinals, and they came running back to me."

Dialdon sighed. “I am not surprised to hear this. I imagine there are those unwilling to sacrifice the entirety of the City of Tiers for our mission."

“It is a needless sacrifice," Mortel said. “Sepulcher of Dawn is too important a player in the world to destroy it, no matter the power it might give you."

“You of all people are going to lecture me on what to sacrifice?"

“The world needs to be stable, prosperous, for the Church to grow. Sepulcher of Dawn is a support column, and you want to knock it down because it's convenient."

“And your suggestion?" Dialdon growled.

“Karniel is in the city, yes? That means his pet is, too. Find Mathus, and take the Heart from him."

“It's not that simple. There is a spell—"

“Yes, I've heard," Mortel dismissed this with a small wave. “You are not even trying to recover him, are you?"

“If the dragons are protecting them—"

“If the dragons are protecting history's greatest villain, then we finally have an excuse to drive those annoying beasts from their Ward of Wings once and for all." Mortel stepped to the edge of the altar and jabbed Dialdon's navel. “You are this city's hero, its leader, the Son Redeemed! Get over your guilty conscience and commit to killing the Scourge once and for all."

Dialdon smacked the side of the altar, causing the statue to stumble and fall off its edge. Soon as it did, the spell broke, the statue lifeless as it clattered across the marble floor.

“I am not," Dialdon breathed, “guilty of anything." Rhythmic, stabbing in his skull forced him to slouch, then fall to his knees before the altar, arms folded across it, resting the side of his head Selvanna smacked. “I didn't want any of this," he mumbled. Dizziness set in, and he missed Selvanna, thinking of their last exchange again.

“Someone has to take this burden. I'm sorry, Vanna." Tears ran down into his arms, soaking into the sleeves of his robe. He sobbed, wishing he had her here. It was the first time in centuries he felt so weak without having her there to pick him back up.

Dialdon lost track of time, only knowing enough had passed that his knees became sore resting on the stone floor. The throbbing in his skull slowed back to a dull beat of a drum, and he forced himself up. He returned the statue to the altar, and turned his back to it, even as an aura took it over again.

Dialdon stepped into the long hallway again, passed the spell he put up, and the guard and his escorts snapped into his vision. They looked up, mid-conversation, and Dialdon said, “We're done here."

As he left with Vestrid and Seljynn in tow, Dialdon did not speak until they finally climbed the stairs at the tomb. There, Dialdon stopped, the night sky now full of stars. He admired them a moment, quietly interrupted by Vestrid asking, “Dialdon?"

Dialdon said without facing either of them, “I am going to return to my chambers and rest. Vestrid, arrange a meeting with the mage guilds and the leaders of the mercenary companies we have on retainer. Seljynn, recall every Faceless who can reach Sepulcher of Dawn within two days. Tomorrow, we are going to start preparing for war."

***

Korlyon nosed into Mathus' bare navel, getting a little shiver as that snout twitched and sniffed. Korlyon growled, “Good enough," and let Mathus slip back down in the warm bath. Adjacent the barracks was a bathing chamber that, while perhaps small to them, was massive for Korlyon and Mathus. The pair sat in a circular basin almost deep as Mathus was tall, diameter great enough to allow Selvanna to recline inside.

Hot water came from four different pumps and took a few minutes to fill along with the soap Korlyon found in a closet in one corner of the room. They had spent the last hour washing off Selvanna's scent. Mathus enjoyed the smell, but allowed Korlyon to go about washing, scrubbing, and inspecting him with all the intimacy of a mother frustrated with their child.

Mathus leaned against the younger wolf. Some stray hair from his fur floating about the surface with the suds. Mathus asked, “Everything okay?"

“The world might end soon, but I am fine."

“You barely said a word to me the whole time you manhandled me," Mathus said. Under the water, Mathus ran a finger up and down Korlyon's thigh, wet fur tickling his knuckle.

Mathus looked up at him, but the young wolf refused to return his gaze. Korlyon said, “I'm mad at you—I think, but I don't like being that. I d-didn't think it would be possible to be mad at you of all people." Mathus stayed silent, watching Korlyon's jowls twitch and flex with each breath, each stop and start of his thoughts. “Being mad at Karniel is easy. Cathka and Selvanna, too. They don't mean to me what you mean to me… and maybe it's stupid for me to be mad. The last few days have been a whirlwind and not at all what I wanted, and I know none of that is in your control. I just thought… dammit—"

Mathus touched his chin. “Hey, look at me. I'm sorry I've not been there for you like you've wanted me, too." He shuffled a little closer and kissed Korlyon on the lips.

“I don't like how jealous I've felt about you and Selvanna," Korlyon admitted. “I… It's hard not to feel small in a group like ours. All I know how to do is hunt, track, and fight, which I know is nothing to you."

“It's not a competition—"

“Just!" Korlyon snapped, then his ears dropped and whispered, “Just let me say this, please?"

Mathus nodded.

Korlyon turned on their bench to face Mathus, one soaked arm resting on the lip of the basin while he said, “I'm not them, and it scares me to be compared to a dragon like Selvanna or a mage like Cathka or a being like Karniel. I don't want to just fade into the background, Mathus—I'm not sure I can handle just being your bodyguard."

“You're not!" Mathus insisted. He grabbed the paw Korlyon had out of the water and held it in both hands, squeezing it. “I would never want that for you. I don't want you here out of some sense of duty, and we both know I'm not the only one that feels that way. I know you and Karniel are fond of one another, and if you give Cathka and Selvanna time I'm sure you'll come to like them, too."

Korlyon muttered, “I am not so sure about the mage."

Mathus laughed at that and led Korlyon's paw to cup his cheek. Mathus nuzzled into the pawpads then kissed them. “You are things they are not. It's okay to be frustrated with me, and it's okay to ask for more time from me. I'll let you know if I think you're being unreasonable."

Korlyon tucked him close and kissed Mathus' brow. “You really do know how to make someone feel special."

“Hehe, it's not hard when they're already special."

They exchanged another kiss, this one lingering and tender. Korlyon's tongue brushed across Mathus' lips, and he accepted the invitation. Lips pressed to wolf's, opening in tandem, working against each other in a massage of flesh. Slow breaths through the nose that smelled like floral soaps and Korlyon's wet lupine musk. Their tongues stroked against one another, tastebuds sliding up and down, Korlyon's licks long and extended, reaching deep into Mathus' mouth.

Just as Mathus' hand wandered to Korlyon's fattening sheath, the door to the baths kicked open. The couple jerked away from each other, water splashing as Korlyon faced the door. Selvanna stood in the doorway with a silver dragon that had long, rubbery whiskers falling from his muzzle. He wore nothing more than a turquoise sash and matching heavy skirt.

“Elder Sorkahn Razorscale wished to see Mathus," Selvanna announced. “He promises no ill will."

“We'll see about that," Korlyon muttered, getting in front of Mathus, a growl already lifting in his throat.

“Easy, pup," Sorkahn warned.

Mathus grabbed Korlyon's shoulder. “If we can't trust dragons, who can we trust?"

“Wisdom. A good first impression," Sorkahn said as he reached the basin.

“Very well."

“A bold non," Sorkahn said Korlyon, “willing to stand up to me while naked in a bath."

“Non?" Mathus asked.

“Their word for us," Korlyon answered as he clambered out of the tub. He offered a paw and helped Mathus out of the water. Korlyon said, “I will get us some towels."

“There are some stocked in the barracks, but why not have the Vessel dry you with a spell?" Sorkahn suggested.

Mathus faced him, dripping and skin prickling in the bare air. “I don't use the Heart unless someone's life is at stake."

One of Sorkahn's whisker's lifted with a toothy smirk. He did not quite have Selvanna's muscle tone, arms a little sinewy from age and patches of scales along his joints that were scalier and dryer looking. He said, “So what they say about you is true."

Had his journey with Karniel not eradicated his modesty entirely at this point, Mathus might have been self-conscious standing nude before a dragon easily twice his height. Still, when Sorkahn knelt before him so he was only a head taller, Mathus did become self-conscious of how much he must appear as a child.

“Do you know why I wanted to see you, Vessel?"

“Mathus."

“Excuse me?"

“Mathus of Morgen's Rest—that's my name. I know we are impinging on your courtesy, staying here, but I am not anyone's 'Vessel.'"

Korlyon returned with a pair of towels and handed one to Mathus. Gratefully, he began to dry himself off. Sorkahn said as Mathus toweled his hair, “You surprise me."

“He has that effect on people," Korlyon said as he took a much more deliberate method to drying off limb by limb. He looked good wet, and Mathus had to stop himself from admiring the young wolf's wiry, athletic frame, or how attractive his sheath appeared…

“Selvanna claimed you have the spirit of one of our people," Sorkahn added, ignoring Korlyon.

Mathus wrapped his towel around his waist, then said, “I am just trying to do right by the people I love and the world. What did you want from me?"

“To know you, and to know if you are worthy of this burden you bear."

“And if I'm not?"

“Then we will kill you."

Korlyon's hackles went up, and if Mathus did not grab his elbow he would have stepped in front of him again. “You will not touch him so long as I breathe," Korlyon snarled.

“Mmm, Vanna warned the same. She vowed to raise her axe against her own kin and she led you here in your time of danger," Sorkahn said. “I don't know if I should be appalled with how wayward she has become or respect you for inspiring such devotion from your companions."

Mathus felt nerves ball up in his chest, but he tried his best to keep his voice even. The dragon talked about killing him casually as one discussed ripping weeds out of a garden. Mathus said, “I don't know what I would need to prove myself, but all I want is peace. If you have a test in mind, I will take it no matter the danger."

Sorkahn only offered a rumbling, “Mmm." He rose to his feet and said, “Imagine my shock, when I came here and learned Vanna had been put into heat by you. We are creatures of flame, you know, and when we sense a connection to someone that is incredibly strong, it becomes a conflagration inside us. It is rare for any non to do that to a dragon, to spark that fire to mate and consummate a newfound union." Sorkahn turned his back on the pair of them, then continued, “Perhaps you do have the spirit of one of our people, and if that were the case, we would be hard pressed to put one of our own to death. We will see how the coming weeks unfold."

Sorkahn made to leave, and Mathus did not stop him. Korlyon came near, muttering, “You aren't nearly arrogant enough to be a dragon." The pair of them watched Sorkahn shut the door behind him before facing each other. “You alright, Mathus?"

“Yeah," Mathus said with a little sigh, “I'm sorry we got interrupted."

“It's fine," Korlyon glanced back at the bath. “Water's still warm."

Mathus teased off the towel at his waist, and it dropped around his feet. He moved closer, whispering as he came in for a kiss, “It would be a shame to waste a good bath."

***

“I understand why you think so highly of him," Sorkahn said as Selvanna walked him back to the teleport chamber.

Each step accentuated an annoying itch between Selvanna's thighs, but she could tolerate it for the time being. Just as irritating were the constant mouthfuls of saliva she needed to swallow. She'd just done that in order to say, “I'm relieved. I would hate to kill you."

“Tsk, you think you could challenge the dragon who taught you how to fight?"

“It would not be easy, but yes," Selvanna said. “Despite what you think, fighting for something other than the clan made me stronger."

“It is also what made you Wayward, little sister."

“I have made decisions I regret, but Dialdon wasn't one of them. He was a good man, once, just as Karniel was once a monster."

“You believe the Scourge has changed?"

“I believe in Mathus, that is enough."

They reached the teleport chamber. Zevban normally would have waited there out of respect for his elder, but given he was raised without ever meeting his aunt, Selvanna's heat affected him as if she was any other dragoness, and none of them wanted to watch the boy drooling on the floor at his relative's scent. Sorkahn's warhammer rested on its head in the center of the chamber, which the elder promptly went to while Selvanna stayed at the door.

Sorkahn grabbed the weapon by its pommel and faced her finally. “You avoided my question."

“Karniel is changed. I have not witnessed him enough to know this personally, but I trust his companions. Mathus is Mathus, and Korlyon is honorable if young and impetuous."

“And the other mage?"

Selvanna shrugged her wings.

Sorkahn grunted. “Very well. Give Zevban your measurements and preferences for your armor."

Selvanna's tail went slack. “You want to make me a new set of armor?"

“If we move against the Church, there will be war. Perhaps a small one, perhaps something more costly. I would not see even our Wayward unprotected for the conflict ahead."

“I… thank you Sorkahn."

“One more thing, Vanna. I don't know what Mathus' commitments are, but make sure he fucks you out of this heat soon."

“That is none of your business!"

“Hah!" Sorkahn laughed even as he signed the phase glyphs to go home. As tendrils of light surrounded the dragon, he said, “It has been centuries since I've seen you flustered."

“It's been centuries since you've seen me."

Sorkahn ignored her comment and said as his spell came to a close, “Just take care of that heat. You're a danger to yourself and other dragons smelling like that." And in a final flash of light her older brother disappeared.

Selvanna had not been ready to receive him, and at first Sorkahn did not offer her any tenderness. He had softened up towards the end of their conversation, before going to see Mathus. Selvanna snorted. “Sort out my heat. Sage save me, what does he expect, a human's seed to quicken in me?"

Selvanna could not even fathom having a clutch from anyone, much less Mathus. Strong as her newly kindled feelings were, she could not cast aside Dialdon's predictions about the human. The best she could do was give the eggs to her old clan to raise. Even after they settled things with the Church, Selvanna imagined it would be a long time before anyone allowed Mathus peace.

“Dialdon, hunted by the Scourge and his minions, Mathus hunted by kings and mages… why can't you fall for someone who doesn't need constant protection, Vanna?"

The answer rose up in her mind, simple and unbidden. She was a Razorscale, and even a wayward Razorscale longed to defend and protect the good in the world.

***

Even with centuries of practice, Dialdon still understood a good sermon did not come extemporaneously, but took time to develop and work out. Time he did not have, only the early morning hours spent drafting a speech to be delivered instead of the morning choir. That self-same system of magically tethered horns that could project noise all throughout the City of Tiers also doubled as a means to address the people when needed.

Dialdon stood at the pulpit at the end of the long nave where the Grand Temple held its services. A system of those horns fixed into the altar there took only a simple spell to activate. With the midmorning sun falling through the tall plate-glass windows, room packed with workers, guards, priests, Faceless, confidants, and the masses, Dialdon signed the spell required and spoke:

“People of Sepulcher of Dawn, Mortel's children, I, the Son Redeemed, come to you this morning weary, with a heavy heart, but determined to see justice prevail as it has for the last century in these Emerald Cities."

Dialdon paused, trying his best to focus around the steady throb of his ongoing headache. “We rejoiced, temporarily, for Mortel's Vessel had been returned to us, but that joy soon turned to grief when we discovered he had come under Karniel the Scourge's influence. Corrupted by evil, he refused to ascend, vowing to die rather than let Mortel return and herald a new era of peace and prosperity in the world. Corrupted by evil, he used his near limitless power to turn my own love against me."

Dialdon took a deep breath, wondering if the dragons in the city might sense his lie, feeling that same lie twist in his gut. “Corrupted by evil, Selvanna, our once Righteous Axe, killed Cardinal Gaulantine, several guards, and injured myself before fleeing into the night with the help of the Scourge and his minions."

I do… I'm sorry, my love. Selvanna's final words of tenderness sprung to mind and the lie stung in his throat. He blinked back tears, swallowed, the audience around him fading into a blur. The thought of Selvanna hearing these words…

“Despite our best efforts, we have not been able to track the Vessel down. However, we know the Scourge was found consorting with the elder dragons inside the Ward of Wings. Even now we know he attempts to sow lies and deceit about myself, about our mission, what we, Mortel's Children, know to be true and right in this world. We will suffer no more corruption in our City of Tiers. No more weeping over the undeserved dead killed by betrayal.

“To any the Scourge has consorted with, we welcome you amnesty if you simply give him over to us. We will see this monster slain once and for all. And for you who would lend a bat your ear, you become our enemy as well. We will purge the Ward of Wings if we must, for the Scourge is a cancer that must be carved out of the body of this city.

Shaking, hunched over the altar, Dialdon's head pounded harder as he hauled word after word end over end out of his throat.

“History's greatest villain, its cruelest tyrant has returned to the city he sees as nothing but livestock for his unholy, bloodthirsty appetites. Will you truly side with such a creature? Will the dragons who call upon us to respect the wisdom and lessons of the past so quickly forget the scars and trauma inflicted on us? Every person in this city knows a relative or ancestor killed thanks to the Scourge. Whether for food or that monster's own senseless pleasure.

“My father lost his life battling the beast to save me. I will not stand Karniel's heart to beat so long as my father's blood runs through mine.

“We will not stand the return of a tyrant. To the old ways of terror and cruelty.

“We will not stand to let someone rule who can only see his fellow beings as cattle.

“We will not stand wretched souls who think the Scourge of the South can bring them anything except ruin.

“And we will not stand Mortel's Vessel to be used and abused by the very monster that stole the God of Mortals from this realm!

“Take up arms my children! For we will. We are. And we will not stop until this cancer has been burned from the face of every realm there is!"