The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon

The arrival of a new hatchling was always cause for celebration. Despite how long they lived – or perhaps because of it – dragons seldom had many children. Ages had passed, and their numbers had yet to recover from the massacre at the hands of the Broken God. The other Catastrophes had not helped either, but more dragons had fallen in that disastrous battle than in every other Catastrophe combined.

It was not uncommon for new parents to seek a blessing from a more powerful dragon, a remnant, perhaps, of the blessings once given out by the gods and the great dragons of the First Age. However, Doomwing was surprised to discover that the new parents had asked for him to give the blessing.

“Are you not the one they serve?” Doomwing asked.

Regal Flame chuckled, and cinders drifted through the air. “I am.”

“And their request does not offend you?” If a blessing was to be given, then custom dictated it come from a family member, a close friend, or the dragon the parents served. As far as he knew, Doomwing had no connection to the parents, so to ask for him instead of her could easily be seen as a slight.

“Under other circumstances it might.” Regal Flame turned and motioned with her tail. “But you will understand when you meet them.”

More than a little curious, Doomwing followed her to a lair set into the lesser mountains away from the plateau. It was a fine location. The forest was near at hand, and it teemed with prey and other resources. There was also a large lake nearby, and the currents of magic in the area were rich and pure.

According to Regal Flame, the parents had only recently achieved their Second Awakenings. The conditions here would serve them well until their Third Awakenings, and they might even prove suitable, albeit not optimal, if they were able to push for their Fourth Awakenings.

“Riddlespike?” Doomwing’s brows furrowed. “An unusual name for a dragon of your lineage.”

Regal Flame folded her wings, landing gracefully despite her size. The lair was not large enough to accommodate them, which was hardly surprising, so they remained outside. Dragons of the Second Awakening were far smaller than them. “She is not of my lineage although Pyrosurge is.” Her smile was faint but genuine. “She is belongs to the rift dragon lineage.”

Doomwing had just enough time to absorb her words before the parents emerged with their hatchling to greet them. Pyrosurge had the rich red scales common to those of the fire dragon lineage, although there were also hints of orange and yellow about him that reminded Doomwing of the flickering flames of a campfire. Riddlespike, however, had deep blue scales, not the blue of the sea, but of the northern sky where auroras lit the night.

And held with the utmost care in one of her claws was the hatchling. In an instant, Doomwing understood why they had asked for his blessing instead of Regal Flame’s. The hatchling’s scales were not like his father’s or his mother’s. Instead, they were a patchwork of blue and red. This newborn dragon belonged to the same lineage as him.

Something deep within his chest tightened. For a moment, Doomwing saw his parents as they must have been so long ago. Much like this hatchling’s parents, one had belonged to the fire dragon lineage and the other to the rift dragon lineage. How surprised they must have been to have him, and how proud as well. That same surprise was visible on the faces of these new parents, as well as that same pride.

There were other dragons of his lineage in the world although he was, by far, the oldest and mightiest of them. But he had never before laid eyes on one so young. The hatchling had only hatched yesterday, and he was a mere foot long. His eyes were a misty grey, reminiscent of steel. That would pass. Doomwing knew that from personal experience, for his parents had told him his eyes had been much the same. In a week, perhaps two, that grey would give way to either the gold of the father or the deep purple of the mother.

As with most hatchlings, the newborn’s head was large in comparison to the rest of his body, and his wings… yes, they seemed even larger than normal for a newborn. It made Doomwing wonder if his own overly large wings were simply a characteristic of his lineage. The hatchling peered up at him with curious eyes, too innocent to be afraid and too naïve to understand how absolutely cavernous the gap in power between his parents and Doomwing was. Instead, the hatchling was completely relaxed, utterly sure that his parents would protect him from harm.

Doomwing could still remember that feeling although it had been many, many years indeed since he had felt it. He could remember curling up to his parents at night, feeling as though nothing in the world could harm him, that no matter how fiercely the storm raged outside their lair, they would keep him safe. He had learned how foolish that belief had been, yet he treasured that feeling all the same. The world could be cruel indeed, but every child should know that feeling, even if the world eventually taught them otherwise.

“Greetings noble Regal Flame and mighty Doomwing,” Pyrosurge said, bowing low and spreading his wings in greeting. “You honour us with your presence.”

“Congratulations,” Regal Flame said. “A hatchling is always cause to celebrate.”

Doomwing said nothing. He simply continued to stare down at the hatchling. The hatchling stared back, and he detected a flicker of surprise from the young dragon as he looked first at his own parents then at Doomwing. The hatchling must be wondering why his scales resembled Doomwing’s more than those of his parents.

Finally, Doomwing spoke. His voice was softer, gentler, less the boom of an approaching storm and more the distant rumble of far-off thunder. “I would offer gifts.”

The parents gasped. They had not expected that. Gifts, if they were to be given, were usually given under more formal circumstances. “Mighty Doomwing, we would be honoured, but there is no need –”

“The hatchling is of my lineage,” Doomwing murmured. “And I remember well the difficulties my parents faced in raising me.” His power stirred, and he wove items into existence through a combination of runes and alchemy. It could have been considered excessive, but he would never offer a gift unless it met his standards. Three objects floated down to the new parents, and he explained each of them in turn.

“The book will aid you. There are… quirks to my lineage – quirks that my parents did not realise until they had me. The book will help you to avoid those pitfalls or aid you in addressing them should they occur. The crystal will absorb any form of magic it encounters and convert it into the magic most suitable for a dragon of my lineage. It will serve your hatchling well, regardless of how many Awakenings he has, although he will likely outgrow its use by his Second Awakening.”

“This…” The parents bowed hastily, and the little dragon instinctively wrapped himself around the crystal. It was bigger than he was, but the power it was already radiating called to him. “There are no words! Thank you!”

“As for the chest,” Doomwing continued. “It contains metals and other materials that should be fed to the hatchling. The book will tell you how much and how often. I remember well my pursuit of proper nutrition when I was young. It was not easy, for a hatchling’s needs vary from lineage to lineage, even when those lineages are related. What worked best for you may not work best for him.”

The parents glanced at each other. Riddlespike nodded firmly, and Pyrosurge spoke again. “If… if it pleases you, mighty Doomwing, then perhaps we could offer you something to repay your kindness.”

“Gifts do not require repayment. Otherwise, they are not gifts.”

“Even so, you have honoured us greatly and bestowed a great boon upon our son. We… we haven’t named him yet. Perhaps…?”

Doomwing’s eyes widened. It was not unheard of for dragons to allow someone they truly respected to name their offspring. It was usually a way of honouring an older dragon, one to whom the parents owed a great deal. He glanced at Regal Flame, but her face showed no displeasure. If anything, she looked extremely pleased.

“You honour me,” Doomwing replied. “Very well. I accept. I will name your son.” He spread his wings, and the shadow they cast fell over the parents and their hatchling. Other dragons had emerged from their lairs to gawk and gossip, but he paid them no mind. “Long ago, in the First Age before their fall, the gods taught us that names have power. It was thus fitting that the greatest of us all was named Sovereign Flame. Yet the one who gave the name also mattered, and it was the Seven Gods together who bestowed that name upon him.”

Doomwing paused, deep in thought. “Your son belongs to my lineage, and of that lineage, no dragon lives that surpasses me. If the one who gives the name matters, then you have chosen well indeed. But what name to give him? When my parents named me, it was half in jest and half in hope that these wings of mine would one day herald the doom of my enemies.” He nodded to himself. “Those of my lineage who have achieved their Fourth Awakening are called nova dragons. Yet although many strive for such a thing, few ever reach it. Whether due to bad luck, poor talent, or lacking resources, so many fall before they reach their Fourth Awakening. To your son, then, I give a mighty name, a name that contains my hopes for him. Let him be called Novawing! And let his wings carry him swiftly to his Fourth Awakening and beyond!”

The air thrummed with power, and the currents of magic in the area bent beneath his will. He pressed on. “In the First Age, when parents asked for a blessing, it was customary to seek it from one of the gods or the legendary dragons of old. My parents were not close to any of the gods or the great dragons. Lacking such connections, they asked someone else to bless me, someone whose might matched even the greatest of our kind, the first and oldest child of the gods.”

There was curiosity on their faces, but Regal Flame gave a wistful sigh before a rueful smile crossed her lips. She knew who he spoke of. No dragon had blessed him. No god had given their favour. Instead, it had been Mother Tree.

“Until the day she died, I considered her a dear friend. By all rights, her blessing should have died with her, yet here I am, and I cannot help but feel that it lingers still. A long life she wished me, with great fortune and good friends. Courage, she hoped for, and wisdom, determination, and cunning. Only a shadow of her remains, lingering in the Deep Dreaming, but if there is any power left in the blessing she gave me, then I hope it aids your son as it has aided me.”

Doomwing put power into his words and gave voice to the blessing using the words Mother Tree had used. He had heard those words twice more in his life. Once, when his parents had shared them with him on the day of his First Awakening, and again when he had refused Mother Tree. Today would be the fourth time he heard them but the first time he spoke them.

“A long life for your son, with great fortune and good friends. May he have courage unwavering, wisdom unmatched, determination unyielding, and cunning unrivalled. May all the Ages of the world be his, and may his wings and heart never falter.” Doomwing paused. “That was the blessing given to me, and it is the blessing I give to your son.”

The parents beamed and bowed once more, and Doomwing returned the gesture before turning to take flight.

“We should go,” he said to Regal Flame. “There is a matter we must discuss with Firetail.”

Doomwing watched Firetail. The old drake was staring at the catalyst he’d made with a combination of fear and wonder. The wonder was easy enough to understand. After suffering through his injuries for more than an Age, the catalyst could heal him. Firetail had been one of the strongest drakes in the world before his crippling, on the very cusp of Ascending further. The wounds he’d endured first in Regal Flame’s defence and then in his desperate flight to call for aid had left him a tattered shell of his former self. That he had survived this long was a testament to both his determination and Regal Flame’s care. The other primordial dragon had spared no expense in treating him.

Unfortunately, during the Sixth Age, his wounds had been beyond even Doomwing’s ability to treat. Soulseeker’s flame had burnt more than Firetail’s body. It had burnt his very soul, rendering almost all forms of healing ineffective. Had Dawnscale ben present… but that was a pointless thought. Hypotheticals of that nature meant little in the face of cruel reality.

But an Age had passed. Firetail’s wounds had settled somewhat, and Doomwing’s skills had improved. Although the odds would never be especially favourable, they were better now than they had been an Age ago. To wait any longer was to risk the growing weight of Firetail’s many years working against him.

By all rights, Firetail should have been overjoyed.

But fear remained. Part of it was simple fear of failure. What if the catalyst failed? If this procedure could not heal him, then there was little chance of anything else being able to. He would wither and fade. In a century or two – at best – he would pass. He would have lived a very long life for a drake. Certainly, few of his kind had ever lived longer. But there would always be that lingering grief. What if he had not been crippled? How high might he have risen, how long might he have lived?

There was also fear of a partial success. What if the catalyst healed the worst of his wounds but was unable to heal him fully? What if the path of Ascension remained closed to him? He would live longer, yes, but he would be unable to Ascend any further. Just the thought of it could drive him mad. To have lived so long and worked so hard, only to be doomed by the actions of a coward and a fool.

No drake had ever Ascended high enough to cast off the shackles of time. Well, perhaps there had been drakes of that level in the First Age, but Doomwing could not be sure. If there had been, they had all perished against the Broken God. Whatever the case, no such drakes had arisen in the Ages since. Firetail might well have been the first, his potential had been that great before his crippling. There were no guarantees. Ascensions of that level were impossible to be sure of. But if Firetail had managed to Ascend, then the very next Ascension would have been the one that drakes had dreamed of for Ages, the equivalent of a dragon’s Fourth Awakening.

Firetail was no fool. He knew precisely how mighty his potential had been. To be partially healed but robbed of that potential would be a bitter blow indeed.

“You hesitate,” Doomwing rumbled. “You should not.”

The drake glanced at Regal Flame. “But the resources used to create this catalyst…”

“Were mine to use as I saw fit,” Regal Flame replied. Her voice softened. “Resources can be regathered, old friend. Favours can be repaid. But you… if you perish, that is the end of it. There will never be another drake quite like you.” Embers traced the contours of her scales, and flame kindled briefly in her jaws. For a moment, the sun was warmer, and warmth that was more than merely physical washed over them. “Your wounds were suffered in my defence.”

“I swore oaths to you. I was merely fulfilling them.”

“And I swore oaths in return. I am merely fulfilling those.” Regal Flame nodded firmly. “Take it, old friend. Whether it works or not, it is better to at least try.”

Doomwing studied the complex play of emotions that flickered across the old drake’s face before he finally gave his assent. “Good. Then we must prepare.”

“Oh?” Regal Flame asked.

“I cannot be certain, but if the catalyst works as intended – if the damage to Firetail’s soul and body is truly healed – then there is a chance that he will immediately be driven into an Ascension attempt.”

Firetail blinked. “What?” In his shock he forgot his usual decorum.

Doomwing chuckled. “I have studied Awakenings and Ascensions of many kinds extensively. Regardless of the opinions that many dragons hold about drakes, the fact remains that your Ascensions are, at least in some ways, similar to our Awakenings. Firetail, you have long surpassed the feats required to achieve your next Ascension. Had you been whole, you would have attempted an Ascension long ago, correct?”

Firetail shifted restlessly. “Yes. Ascensions are… instinctive. When you are ready to make the attempt, you know. And the readier you are, the more pressing the urge to make the attempt becomes. Eventually, it becomes overwhelming. You can scarcely eat or sleep, so strong is the urge. But since my crippling…” He exhaled, long and mournful. “I have felt nothing. Only an emptiness where once that familiar pressure used to be.”

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“That is not surprising. Your body was ravaged and your soul gravely wounded. Your power was reduced to a fraction of what it had been. Should the catalyst succeed, all will be restored. Given everything you have achieved since then, your newly restored abilities will far exceed your former powers. The urge to Ascend that you have not felt in an Age will return – and it will be many times stronger than before.”

Regal Flame’s eyes gleamed, bluer than the open sky above them. There was draconic greed in her gaze, but not for herself. No. It was on Firetail’s behalf. For so long, she had seen her loyal friend and herald robbed of his rightful place. Now, at last, there was a chance for him to reclaim all that had been stolen from him and more. She wanted him to seize this opportunity, to take what was his by right. “What must we do?”

“First and foremost, Firetail must consume the catalyst and use its power to heal his old wounds.” Doomwing’s gaze grew serious. “The catalyst uses Frostfang’s cold as its key ingredient. It will nullify the damage that has been done to his soul and body. However…” He paused briefly, for what he was about to ask was no small thing. “It is likely that the damage Firetail has endured will make it impossible for him to guide the catalyst’s power through his body in the optimal way.”

“What should I do then?” Firetail asked quietly.

“Let Regal Flame help.”

Both drake and dragon startled at his suggestion, not that he could blame them. The catalyst’s power would surge through Firetail’s body and soul. Without proper direction, it would be like a flooding river bursting its banks. It would still be effective, but much of its power would be wasted. Ideally, Firetail would direct the catalyst’s power himself, but his injuries would make that difficult if not outright impossible. What he needed was someone who could do that for him.

That person would need to be enormously powerful and would need to know him as well as he knew himself. Moreover, allowing someone to help him in that manner would leave Firetail completely exposed, bereft of any defence, magical or otherwise. That sort of vulnerability… Doomwing did not know if he would be able to tolerate it.

“And that would help?” Firetail asked.

“It would.”

“Then… if it is not too much trouble, I would ask my lady to assist me.” Firetail bowed his head. “I will leave my life in your hands.”

“Firetail…” Regal Flame stared. She too understood how much trust he was putting in her. This went beyond mere oaths of service and allegiance. He was putting not only his life in her hands but also every hope he had for a brighter future. “Very well, old friend. I will aid you as best I can.”

“Good. That is the bare minimum required.” Doomwing paused. “To be blunt, if the catalyst fails, we will not need to make any further preparations. The failure will be so catastrophic that he will be dead before we can offer any aid.”

Firetail laughed. “That is… strangely reassuring. At least it will be a swift death. Better that, than a slow and lingering demise.”

“Indeed. However, if the catalyst works as intended, and he is pushed toward Ascension, there are preparations we can make to improve his chances of success.”

“Whatever is required,” Regal Flame said. “It shall be done.”

“Excellent.” Doomwing nodded. “Then let us prepare.”

Firetail swallowed thickly, more nervous now than he’d ever been since the long-ago days of his youth when he had first pledged himself to Regal Flame. He had faced many dangerous situations in his life, none more so than when he’d faced Soulseeker. The dead primordial dragon might have been a coward and a fool, but his power had been very real.

In a fair fight, his noble lady would have made short work of him, but Soulseeker had only attacked in the first place because it had not been a fair fight. Naturally, Firetail had been no match for him. It had taken everything he had to escape, and he had still paid a dear price for it, not that he regretted it. As agonising as his wounds had been, he had nevertheless derived a grim satisfaction in watching Doomwing tear the other dragon limb from limb.

A coward was bad enough, but a traitor too? Bah! Let Soulseeker rot, and let the vultures feast on his wretched carcass! If there truly was a great cycle of death and rebirth, then may Soulseeker be reborn as a snail or some other similarly pathetic creature. Better still, let him remember his previous life, so that the disgrace of his new life could weigh more heavily upon him.

Yet now, with the possibility of healing before him, Firetail once again felt fear although he did his best to steel himself. As awful as it sounded, he had grown used to his wounds, and he had come to accept his coming demise. It was not that he wanted to die. He wished to live. But he had made peace with his fate. He had lived a good life, one of loyalty and service. If he died, he would be able to stand before his gods and his ancestors with his head held high. Let none say he had failed in his duties. Let none say he had ever given less than his best. True, he had less to give than others, but he had given everything he could.

Hope… hope was a strangely tenacious thing. His hopes had died long ago, or so he’d thought. But now… now they returned, and he wasn’t sure whether to welcome them or supress them. To have hope again only to lose it – that would be more than he could bear.

“Are you prepared?” Doomwing asked.

They were no longer upon the plateau. Instead, they were in Regal Flame’s lair. If the catalyst worked, and he began his Ascension, then he would need access to as much fire-related magic as possible. There was nowhere better for that than his lady’s lair. Of all dragons of her lineage, she was the mightiest. Her own power – and that of her father before her – filled this place. Despite its peaceful appearance, it was actually a volcano. Only Regal Flame’s might kept it from erupting, its enormous heat and power converted into magic that flowed seamlessly through the land.

Firetail would have no shortage of power to draw upon. Indeed, Regal Flame had made it clear that she would bend the currents of magic to feed his Ascension if necessary. How many drakes had ever been offered such a privilege? If the opportunity to Ascend presented itself, then he swore to take full advantage.

“You mentioned something about runes and scripts?” Firetail asked.

Doomwing nodded. The dragon’s telekinesis lifted a small pile of scales that Firetail had shed, along with a vial of his blood. A flash of power crushed the scales into fine powder before Doomwing summoned a number of items. Before Firetail’s very eyes, Doomwing performed alchemy of the highest level, leaving a sphere of ink floating in the air beside him.

“Should you attempt Ascension, I will assist you. I will use this ink to implement a number of magical scripts along with various runes.”

“Will the script be placed on my scales?” Firetail was familiar with a number of magical scripts. For instance, both the dwarves and elves made use of their own.

“I could do that. However, there is a method that offers even better chances of success.”

“Please, tell me.”

“I will inscribed them directly onto your bones and major organs using my telekinesis.”

“…” Firetail shook himself. Had he misheard? “Truly?”

“Yes. If it helps, know that should you reach that point, you will already be in too much pain to feel what I am doing.”

Regal Flame turned her head to stare at Doomwing. “And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?”

Doomwing shrugged. “Excessive time to ruminate would only have increased his fear, and fear is dangerous during Ascension.”

Firetail laughed. Doomwing was right. Fear and doubt were deadly during Ascensions. The mind, body, and soul must all be resolute. “Hah! Very well! Do as you wish. If am to live or die this day, then I shall do so having made every effort to succeed!” He smiled faintly at his noble lady. “Regardless of the outcome, my lady, I will not have it be said that your herald was a coward or that I lacked resolve. Fear? Of course, there is some fear. I am not a fool. But let the results show the truth: whatever doubt or fear I feel, my resolve is greater still! Whatever happens, I will give it my all.”

“Excellent words,” Regal Flame replied. “If there is nothing else, then let us begin.” She bared her teeth. “And when the others arrive, you shall greet them as my herald. Let them marvel at your Ascension.”

Firetail bared his teeth in return. “Yes… yes! Let it be so!”

“Stand there.” Doomwing pointed to the centre of the intricate formation he had carved into the floor of Regal Flame’s lair. He would fix it later, but it was mesmerising to look at it. It combined a number of runes with various magical scripts to create something more – a circle of power that would aid first in healing Firetail and then in his Ascension, should the opportunity arise. “I ask you one last time, Firetail. Are you ready?”

Firetail took a deep, deep breath. His fear and doubt receded. In their place, there was only resolve – the same resolves that had let him stand against a primordial dragon and survive. “I am.”

“Then take this.” Doomwing offered him the catalyst. “And swallow it.”

Firetail accepted the catalyst. As a student of magic and alchemy it intrigued him. It was, in many ways, the very breath of winter itself caught in a moment of time, a crystal of such pure, shimmering blue that even the sky would have been envious.

Yet before his gaze, the crystal blurred, its edges, faces, and corners expanding and then blurring as they twisted in on themselves and bled into higher and lower dimensions. It was there and not there, something whose presence filled the present but also blurred into the past and future. Cold radiated off it, a cold so deep and all-encompassing that it called to mind the desolate, endless wastes of snow and ice that ruled the far north and south, lands where winter never ceased and summer was only a rumour. It was truly incredible, and there was a part of him that would have been happy to stare at it for years and years. Of course, however, it had other, more important, uses.

Firetail steeled himself – and then he swallowed the catalyst.

For a long moment, there was nothing. There was no biting cold, no surge of power. He looked askance at the two dragons. Regal Flame looked curious too, but it was Doomwing’s expression that made him wary. There was no doubt or concern on the dragon’s face, only pity.

And he was right to feel pity.

A heartbeat passed, then two, and then, on the third, cold consumed Firetail’s entire world.

He was a fire drake, one of the strongest that had ever lived. He had only ever known warmth, especially after entering his lady’s service. He knew fire and heat, and even when Soulseeker had burned his soul and body, there had been an eerie familiarity to it. He had not feared those flames, regardless of how much damage they had done.

But now? Now, there was only cold, a deep, bitter, cruel cold that made it had to think, hard to breathe, hard to do anything. His thoughts slowed to a crawl, and every breath and heartbeat seemed to last a lifetime. His body and soul were frozen. His mind was dull. And that cold, that awful, awful cold, it was everywhere. It filled every iota of his being. It surged like a tidal wave through the very fabric of his existence.

No.

No!

Doomwing had told him what he needed to do. He had to seize this cold and direct it through his body and soul, directing it toward the areas that were most badly damaged. Slowly, so very slowly, he willed the growing ice and frost within him to obey. It was sluggish, like trying to alter the flow of the very tides – but only for a moment.

A will much greater than his own, along with power incomparable mightier than his, was suddenly there beside him. It could have crushed him in an instant, yet it did not. Instead, it bolstered his fragmenting will, gave strength to his faltering power. It was his lady, and rather than recoil from her, he embraced her intervention.

Her power brushed against his and then through it, following the paths he had sought to establish. If Frostfang’s cold was the greatest in the world, then his lady’s heat was no less daunting. Together, they seized control of the bitter cold, shunting it through his body and weaving it into his soul. For the first time in more than an Age, Firetail felt that horrible, burning sensation fade. At the same time, the restorative effects built into the catalyst and the circle of power around him began to take effect.

The wounds in his body and soul began to mend and then –

He felt it.

An overwhelming, barely comprehensible desire.

His body and soul, broken and sundered for so long, recognised that he was being made whole. They, along with the weight of his deeds since his crippling, bore down on him. He had been so close to Ascension then, and now… now as power surged into him, drawn into him from his surroundings, the urge to Ascend further returned, but with the weight of an Age behind it.

He would have fallen if the circle around him wasn’t keeping him upright. His lady’s power withdrew – this was not something she could help him with – and Firetail was dimly aware of Doomwing’s voice snapping out like a bolt of lightning through a cloudless sky.

“Push for Ascension!” Doomwing growled. “We will aid you!”

Firetail did not hesitate. No. Everything he was refused to let him hesitate.

Instinct drove him, along with the wisdom gleaned for his previous Ascensions. He needed power – all the power he could get, enough to fuel the changes to come, which meant he needed to vastly overload his reserves. Fortunately, he was in the perfect place to do that.

He pulled on the power around him – and it rushed into him. Never before had the currents of magic in the area felt so pure. Never before had they answered his call so swiftly and easily. His lady was helping him, directing the awesome might and power of the currents of magic in the area toward the circle Doomwing had crafted, trusting in the other primordial dragon’s ability to moderate that flow, to somehow keep it from annihilating Firetail.

Power seared through Firetail, a surge of molten heat that threatened to overwhelm his newly healed body and soul. It was a pain beyond anything he had experienced, beyond even the pain of his crippling. It threatened to drive him mad as the raw energy coursing through him sought to remake his very being. An Age of stagnation and decline was being swept away in moments, the relentless pressure of Ascension pushing him higher and higher.

Vaguely, he was aware of Doomwing doing as he’d promised. Telekinesis split his scales and flesh and carved magical script onto his bones and organs as mystical ink flowed through his wounds. Part of Firetail wanted to laugh. Doomwing had been right. He had barely felt that through the pain. Yet the effects of his intervention were immediate. The fog around his mind cleared slightly, and the agony he felt dimmed just enough for him to focus and properly guide the power raging through him.

Ascension was no easy thing, and each level of Ascension had a specific requirement.

At this level, he knew what he needed to do. His heart was more than an organ that pumped blood through his body. It had metaphysical meaning too, which was why so many hearts crystallised upon death.

Right now, his heart was a thing of flesh and blood. To Ascend, he needed to replace it with something more, something that could house his soul if necessary, for it was his soul that would change the most during this Ascension, soaring past its current state to become something that was capable of lasting far longer and able to influence the world around him to a far greater extent.

His soul would no longer be bound strictly to his body. Instead, it would be able to bleed into his surroundings, imposing his will upon them. To do that, he would have to use the essence of his soul and combine it with his heart to form something new. He would have to take something – the soul – that was more than physical and use it transform a purely physical thing – his heart – into something more.

He focused on that thought. To shape his soul and give it concrete form was not easy. He thought of the preparation he had done in the past – preparation Doomwing had quizzed him on prior to beginning – and did his best to do as he’d learned. Focus. His soul was everything he was. To crystalise it was hard. To do so for its entirety was impossible. In metaphysical terms, his heart was not everything he was. Instead, it was defined by the core aspects of his being. Combining his heart and his soul meant taking what was most important to him and giving it form and purpose and function.

Fire.

Loyalty.

Determination.

Service.

These four things had guided him in life, like the four cardinal directions of a compass, and they were the four cornerstones of his soul that he would use to make his new heart. Dimly, he was aware of the power continuing to surge through him, of the magics both Doomwing and Regal Flame were employing to buy him more time and clarity.

His soul, a nebulous, impossible to pin down thing finally began to grow more solid. His heart, a chunk of muscle that had beat mightily for Ages, began to slow and then crumble.

For a split-second, his heart ceased beating.

For a split-second, his soul hung in the balance.

And then heart and soul became one.

A star bloomed to life within his chest.

He almost passed out at the sudden shockwave of power, one that came not from the awesome currents of magic surging into the chamber but from within him, from the sun-fire that now blazed inside his chest.

This was Ascension, the feeling he had thought he’d lost forever.

Flame erupted around him.

He roared.

Doomwing studied Firetail intently. “A most excellent Ascension.”

Regal Flame nodded. She had seen many Ascension, for many drakes served her. None had come close to the sheer ferocity and power of Firetail’s. “Indeed.”

The most obvious difference was size. Firetail had been seven hundred feet long. No more. Now, he was closer to nine hundred feet in length. Then there were his scales. Before his Ascension, they had been dull and faded. Now, they were a vibrant, rich, almost bloody red that called to mind Regal Flame’s own scales. In the past, before his crippling, they had not looked quite like that. Doomwing wondered how much of the change was down to his Ascension and how much had been influenced by Firetail’s loyalty and affection for Regal Flame.

Extending his senses, Doomwing could only nod in approval. Power flowed through Firetail in a way it never had before. Rather than a heart pumping mere blood through his veins, there was now a star of might radiating power through every fibre of his being. If he had to guess, then compared to his earlier prime, Firetail’s power had increased more than ten-fold. For now, his power was still turbulent, but it would settle soon, at least enough for him to greet the others.

More.

Yes, that was the best way to describe it.

Firetail was more.

More powerful. More durable. More capable of influencing the world around him.

Firetail was more than he had ever been, and already, Doomwing could see the currents of magic responding to his clumsy, awkward attempts to manipulate them – a power granted to only the mightiest of drakes.

Slowly, Firetail got to his feet. His eyes blazed with power, and flame rippled over his body. His wings beat the air, strong and sure and swift.

“How do you feel, old friend?” Regal Flame asked.

The drake – who could now look forward to millennia of extra life instead of mere centuries – bared his teeth in a truly draconic smile.

“I’ve never felt better.”

Regal Flame smiled back, her grin every bit as toothy. “Then let us go for a flight.” She chuckled. “The market is being set up. Let us fly over there. Let them see what you have become.”

“The market?” Firetail shook himself. “Ah. Yes. With so many dragons gathering, it makes sense.”

When so many dragons gathered, it was not uncommon for them to set up a market of sorts where resources and services could be exchanged.

“There are some who doubted you,” Regal Flame said. “After they see you, they will doubt no more.”

Firetail flexed his wings again and then spread them wide as if he couldn’t quite believe the strength he now possessed. He laughed. “It has been so long, my lady, since we have flown together. For too long, I would have held you back. Now… now, perhaps, we can fly together as we once did.”

Regal Flame’s lips curled. “Oh? You may have Ascended, old friend, but do you truly think you can keep up?’

“I will simply have to try.”

As Regal Flame launched herself out of her lair, Firetail followed, the pair racing swiftly up into the sky. Doomwing followed at a more sedate pace as his gaze drifted toward the market that had been set up in the foothills near the desert. Many dragons had already arrived. Amongst them was Littletooth. He had called for his doppelganger once it became clear that a market would be established. He would allow the doppelganger to sell and trade as he saw fit… and if he happened to encounter any dragons worth recruiting, he would allow Littletooth to refer them to him for closer examination.

Up ahead, Regal Flame glanced over her shoulder with Firetail on her heels. She sent a jet of flame toward Doomwing, more in jest than anything else, and Doomwing allowed a faint smile to cross his lips. It was an invitation. Normally, he would have refused, but perhaps it was the joy of Firetail’s Ascension and his encounter with young Novawing, but he found himself accepting.

Who better to test Firetail’s new abilities than two primordial dragons?