Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!
Toren Daen
I dismissed the strange interaction I'd had with Ulysseiah, considering I had more important things to attend to. Though her glassy, distant expression had left me wondering: what else did the leviathan see? Were there other asura like her, so strangely delirious and distant?
I'd have to ask Wren when I got the chance.
It was actually incredibly annoying, trying to find that tent. The gigantes had walked a solid distance since the end of Chul's duel with Nerium, and the wind did as it wished, carrying its passengers onto new lands.
Chul and I eventually found it a little less than a mile out, waving like a flag atop a crumbling building eighty feet in the air. The orange-red fabric rippled in the breeze, casting a long shadow on the dusty ground far below. But the little spot of orange was inconsequential compared to the bones of civilization.
"It is quite the mighty structure, even with the wearing of time," Chul said, tapping down before the hundred-foot-tall monument. The shadow of the blocky ruin enveloped him like a cloak. Despite his earlier zeal to move forward, he raised a hand, pressing it to the sandstone almost reverently. "How many tens of thousands of millennia must these stones have stood?"
The architecture—or what I could see of it—made me think of the ancient Mesopotamian ziggurats of my previous life. Blocky, squarish stones resolute in their persistence, layers going up higher and higher. Great stairwells linked through what must have once been thriving gardens and platforms, each step as tall as I was. Heavy scratches like glyphs were etched across the smoothed rock, now cold and dead. Most of the structure had been eradicated, like a gutted corpse.
The ambient mana flowed through it haltingly, echoes of old runes and glyphs whispering to me of their past glory. Empty halls, empty, whistling windows. An old grave, longing so desperately to tell a story, but relieved of its tongue. The entire structure wasn't built for men of my size, but giants. Windows far too large, doorways for people with shoulders even broader than Chul's… I knew what it must be like to be an ant, gazing into a structure scaled far too high.
Hofal would have loved this, I thought, a pang of old pain streaking through me as I remembered the kindly old man, talking happily of old Doctrination architecture. He could spend his entire life speaking of this.
Wren leapt from Chul's chiton, the mink circling for a moment in the dust. Then he glowed yellow, before resuming his original form. "I hate being in that form," he muttered, scratching at his hair. "My nose never feels right afterward. Evolution is so inefficient sometimes."
Then the titan shook his head, before staring at the ziggurat as if it had somehow personally wronged him. Before it, he looked just as small as us. "These structures aren't as old as you think. No ruin lasts long before some enterprising asura wipes it away in a fight, or resculpts the land. Wars have been raging in these lands for hundreds of thousands of years, and the shape of the crust has been altered more times than can be counted."
I looked at the titan askance, surprised by this bit of information. "Wait, that would mean that every ruin is—"
"A generation or three old at most? Of course, why wouldn't it be?" His brows furrowed slightly. "It would be different for you humans though, wouldn't it? Your kind doesn't routinely eradicate the entire continent and repaint it. How odd…"
I looked back at the ziggurat of stone, unsure if the reverence I felt had grown or diminished. No matter how I looked at it, this building was older than any civilization from my previous world. But for the asura not to have true monuments to look back on, or remnants of their forefathers?
Wren shook his head, then began to march up one of the great stairways of the ziggurat. "But this place… This might be as old as you suspect. One of the oldest structures in Epheotus, the last remnant of Zatan'Alar. Come on. I'm tired of being stuffed in a shirt, and Spellsong's got that look on his face that says he's planning something."
The titan floated up the steps, hands shoved in his pockets as he muttered irritably. I could sense that something about this forgotten ruin annoyed him, scratched at a sore that had surfaced every now and then. His feet brushed over the top of the steps as he went as if to prove that he could.
Chul hastily followed after, about ready to ask the grumpy asura a flurry of questions, but when the disguised phoenix saw Wren's hunched posture, furrowed brow, and aura of irritation, he halted himself, withdrawing uncertainly.
As I drifted up after Wren, I nodded in affirmation to my companion, hoping to convey in some small way that he'd done the right thing holding his tongue. He was making progress. This was absolutely better than calling the titan 'petty and sad,' that was for sure. Chul smiled hesitantly.
The inside of the ziggurat was as big as any cavern in Darv, and just as dark. Though the sun shone down outside, the halls felt like tombs, the dust piled high. The walls must have been painted once upon a time, but now it was all rote stone. If I yelled, my voice would echo a dozen times before finally reaching me again.
And as I trailed through the hall of forgotten gods, it finally clicked what this place was.
This is an ancient home of titans, isn't it? I thought, wondering what it meant to Wren. Not a home of his, I don't think, but…
"So what do you have bubbling around in that brain of yours, Spellsong?" Wren muttered, his voice echoing slightly. "I know you saw through some of the political bullshit that went down a bit ago. So how are we changing tactics, oh glorious leader?"
My lip quirked down at being called 'glorious leader.' It was a new experience for me, being treated like a leader. I was used to following orders, used to offering what Karsien needed, what Seris needed, what Aurora needed… But the way Chul—and to a lesser degree, Wren—looked at me told me that I would have to be far more proactive going forward.
"The Avignis heiress was trying to keep her head down," I said, strolling past the two and walking toward the cavernous entrance to another chamber. The doorframe itself was wide enough to fit a dozen trains, the darkness beyond ominously inviting. "That's why she had no guards, why she was avoiding attention by trying to stick to the gigantes caravans. I think she was in a hurry, too. And with the recent capture of the Asclepius…"
"She might know of our flock!" Chul boomed, his face lighting up. Only my sound magic kept his voice from echoing all throughout the mausoleum of the lost. "That is most brilliant, brother! We must follow after her, lest she gain too much of a lead!"
I spared a glance at the disguised phoenix. "That's where things get a bit more tricky, actually."
"Our mana signatures alone aren't enough to hide yours," Wren pointed out, beady eyes gleaming in the darkness. "You're only safe right now because of our proximity to the gigantes. And once we leave that?"
"I could expel most of the mana I've gathered. That would lower my mana signature," I said, my brow furrowed. "But that's got problems of its own. It leaves me weak, and it still leaves us exposed. Hiding here gives us cover and an easy path to the River Suda, where Wren's stuff is stored."
I considered the problem for a while, irritated. The titan Evascir would have information on the Asclepius when we reached Klethra, as Mordain had mentioned. That meant the most surefire way to get information on my family came after the River Suda.
But do I prioritize safety or not? I wondered, looking at Chul. I wasn't just responsible for myself now, was I?
Wren paced back and forth, his hands locked behind his hunched back. He looked like a caricature of the wizened mentor, the sound of his sandals on the stones a steady rhythm as he tried to think.
"It might interfere with our plan, reveal us all," he said, seeming to consider it deeply. "If you're smart, you can work this into the plan you already made. But your irritating human tendencies might just give it away, too."
I'd initially worked out a plan with Wren to keep low for a couple of weeks at most with the sylphan caravan, letting the great colossi do the work of the journey for us, before springing our idea once we'd gotten his spare cloaking artifacts. It gave us the best chance at safety, however short-lived. The Avignis heiress had set out due eastward, still toward the River Suda. Theoretically, it was in the same direction as where we were going, could be a perfect part of the plan, and would even cut down on time… if there weren't other issues to consider.
"Plan?" Chul whispered, even though he didn't need to, "Brother, you mentioned earlier when you alluded to how we hide. You say we cannot hope to remain in the shadows, skulking like serpents in the grass. There are schemes woven through this, yes?"
I listened to the world around us for a moment, gauging every sense. Sonar Pulse fed me a perfect, three-dimensional map of the world. If anyone listened to us, it was only the ghosts of titans past.
"We can't hide forever," I said slowly, looking intently at Lady Dawn's son. "We can't even hide for long. We're too suspicious, too obviously different. And recent events have been too chaotic, increasing Indrath's security: so here's what we're going to do."
I explained the idea I'd had brewing in loose detail, going over the key parts. It wasn't a perfect plan, but so devoid of options and opportunities, it was remarkably succinct. When I was done, though, Chul's expression was thunderously dark.
"This is most deceptive," he said quietly, looking at his hands as if they were foreign. "This is the utmost dishonesty, what you wish to do. Mother would not wish this of me."
I considered the bulky man for a moment, feeling a pang of sympathy. I'd been there before, my ideals burning against the pragmatic reality of the world. "Aurora wouldn't want any of this to happen to us, Chul." When I first came to this world, I hesitated to run a simple mana beast through with a dagger. I struggled to kill, struggled to lie. I wanted to be good, but the world was apathetic in the face of such a desire. "But just like the acclorite prisons… Some things we need to do regardless of what we wish."
Chul didn't respond. He stared into the darkness, his heartbeat solemn and somber. "I miss when things were simple," he said quietly, "when thoughts such as this did not plague me. I miss when justice was clear. Now everything must always change, and I am left without the ground. Or perhaps I never had the ground, and was always blind."
Wren stepped past us, pressing a hand to the gargantuan stones before us. "It's not that you're blind, oaf," he muttered cynically. "It's that you see what you need to do, but you're just afraid of it. That's normative through psychology, fear of what you can't change. It's written all over you in blotchy ink."
Chul's soulful eyes fell on Wren, desperate for guidance. Desperate for anything that would make it all make sense again. "I am consumed by the fear," he mumbled. "I question every step forward, for fear of crushing those beneath my great boots. I wonder at every word. I hurt you most deeply before, Worker of Wonders, and I hurt others, too. I do not know how to hold it all together. I am so very afraid."
Wind whistled through the great ziggurat, brushing against my hair, pulling similar fears from the depths of my heart. I felt as if I'd swallowed a knife, the blade slowly slicing its way through me.
Wren, however, was not so affected. Little stepstones slowly pushed from the sandstone, a stairwell crafting itself for our mouse-small forms. "Fear is a natural part of an organism's experience," he muttered, clopping up the steps. "Creatures that learned to fear learned to survive. Evolution ingrained fight or flight into each and every animal that has ever existed for a reason. It keeps us alive. Keeps us moving. But I've found there is an optimal level of fear. Too much and you'll consume yourself. Too little, and you'll get yourself killed."
The titan began to trod up the path he'd made, near invisible in the shadows. A small man backlit by the works of giants.
"Back before the days of the Great Eight, most titans weren't loyal to a clan or anything. Clans are finicky, disloyal. In-groups that are effective at othering and discarding faulty products. They harness the fear inbuilt in us all," he sneered. "So the titans went a different route from other asuran races. They made city-states all across Epheotus. Like this one. The desert's gem, Zatan'Alar."
Chul chewed his lip, plodding slowly up behind Wren, listening dutifully as I held the rear. "I have not heard of this story," he said slowly. "Mother spoke much of heroes and legends, but not of the great city-states."
"Your mother was a better woman than any I've met," Wren countered. "She wouldn't tell a child a tragedy."
And you would? I thought, but did not say. The titan seemed to sense my thoughts, as he spared my silent form a single glance, before looking forward again.
"A hundred generations ago, Zatan'Alar was the most powerful force to ever war over Epheotus," the titan continued, "or so the stories say. A rising star in the world, able to unite titans under something more than just a clan. But it was more than that, because it's said that they somehow chained a god. The Primordial Fire was enslaved by them, fire bound only to destruction. Living flames that could burn anything, leave all untouched. But how they kept the fire contained, holding a Catastrophe in chains? Nobody knows."
A Catastrophe? I thought, my mind flashing back to Barth's tale of Mother Earth and the Dragon. Geolus had been slain by the dragons, the very corpse used as a foundation for their castles. Hadn't there been another one there? Brother Fire?
I remembered the sheer quantity of dead mana swirling around the Starbrand Sanctum. Even as the Living Storm rotted, I struggled to conceptualize how much power was contained within. I, who was a living mana core, failed to conceive of something so titanically powerful. It was like a part of the ambient mana itself given life.
"Since you're painfully uneducated, Spellsong," Wren said, "let me tell you something. We asura are a prickly, prideful lot. We are not gods. And because we refuse the mantle of godhood, we deny any others the opportunity. It would rankle our pride. But eons ago, some of us did worship."
I nodded uncomfortably, unnerved by the intensity in the titan's eyes. The silence in this ziggurat settled more heavily like that of the grave. We continued upward, and I thought the air was growing colder. "And where did that worship lead?"
"Ignorance. Pride. Arrogance. Fear," Wren countered immediately. "How can you worship that which you've enslaved? It's circular logic, bound to tear itself apart eventually. The titans of Zatan'Alar feared their god, chained in their pyramids. And they loved it and found power in it, domineering over all others. Their godspeaker, priest, and king—Aebel, he's called in the stories—infused himself with the power, granting pieces to the raging titan warriors. Stories say they were set to conquer all of Epheotus with their legions. And with every victory they achieved, their foes were sacrificed at the altar of bloody Fire. The mana grew and swelled, and the tide continued. And Aebel reveled. Because the fool feared all that was not bathed in Fire's light; and the flag of Zatan'Alar rose over nigh every clan."
In my mind's eye, I could see it. Legions of asura wanting naught but destruction, pushed onward by terrible zeal and unfathomable power. In my mind, I didn't see Aebel. I saw Agrona, with blackened horns and a subtle smile. I saw the faith of a people turned to violence and destruction.
History seemed doomed to repeat itself, did it not?
"So what became of them?" Chul asked, invested as ever, his eyes shining. He couldn't sense the downfall in the story, couldn't feel the coming dread.
Wren pressed a hand to the stones, pausing as we ascended. His heartbeat was slow, solemn, steady, his face unreadable. "The godspeaker was murdered," he said darkly. "The idiot apparently thought he was immortal and untouchable. But everyone's just blood in the end, trying so very hard to pretend otherwise. And when the Communer died…"
I tried to imagine what would happen to Alacrya if Agrona just… disappeared. If the entire central power system was torn apart without anything to catch it… I looked down at the ground far, far below us. The ambient mana was stilted here, hesitant and unsure. I remembered what it had felt like, listening to the great wound over Burim when so many had died. Remembered what had become of the Redwater in Vechor after the violent murder of Brahmos Vritra.
It spoke to the weight of time and eons that I could not hear the murder, could not sense the blood. The scar on the world had healed over here, but I could imagine the crimson that must have flowed.
When titans bleed, I wondered, feeling minuscule within the gigantic hall, does it drown all who are close?
"The city was never conquered, was it?" I said quietly, sure of my words.
Wren snorted. "You humans do have a wonderful grasp of psychology. I found substantial research in Alacrya regarding group habits and the nature of packs and othering. Especially some experiments on what happens when a leader is torn from their throne. The methods of obtaining it were blunt and less than moral… But they were true."
We finally reached the apex. With a wave of his hand, the stones—maybe older than humanity itself—slipped aside, revealing the false sunlight from on high. "The mistake we pompous asura make is assuming that we're better than you 'lessers,' " he groused. "We forget that we were you. That our races evolved from lessers, too. That we are as begotten by fear and terror as any mouse in the grass. Agrona knows this. He's made experiments to see what will become of Epheotus after he slits old Kezzy's throat."
Chul looked far from certain now. Where at first he'd been listening attentively like an eager child, now he winced at the sun, startled by the sudden brightness. "I do not follow," he admitted painfully. "What became of this great city, Worker of Wonders?"
Wren didn't look away from me, his lips quirked down into a frown. "They tore each other apart, or so the legends say," he scoffed. "They became animals, bleeding each other like beasts. Accusing their neighbors of snuffing the Fire and taking away their god, they set their own fire to their civilization. For a dozen days and nights, they set flame to their own dynasties, tearing it all down in rabid frenzy. When the clans of the time rallied to see the ashes of the once-great City of Flames, all they found were ruins and bodies. The blood of titans flowed through the streets, everyone too stupid to see that they'd wrought their own doom. There were no survivors."
The disguised phoenix's face had gone entirely white. He swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Ah, but this story does not make sense!" he tried. "For if there were no survivors, then how could anyone tell such a tale?"
Wren snorted, looking toward the flapping tent. He didn't respond for several moments, his intent dipping low. "I wasn't entirely truthful. It's said there was one who lived. The murdered godspeaker's brother was the only one with sense. He locked himself away in the darkest pits of the city, waiting for it all to burn away. A sheep cowering as the wolves tore each other to shreds. But the sheep was the only survivor."
The titan strolled over to the flapping tent, hooked on what I finally recognized was an old pole where a flag would have once waved. "Fear is important, oaf. And it can consume you. It's consumed entire civilizations. But do you know what you have that these idiots didn't?"
Chul's bulky shoulders hunched. "I suppose this is the time where I shall be told what virtue I have?" he offered meekly, not really believing his own words.
Wren unhooked the great tent with ease, snorting in amusement. "That sentence alone proves my point. You're aware, now. Aware of your fear and of yourself," he said, somehow managing to make it sound like an insult. "That's better than these ashes. They had no foundation. You do."
Chul, with his heart as big as a mountain, did not seem to hear the backhanded part of the compliment. He looked down at his hands, meaty and callused from countless hours of exercise and martial practice. "You bear great wisdom, Worker of Wonders," he said. "I am most sorry for not seeing it before. I was blind indeed, yet now I see."
Wren tossed the burnt-orange tent over to the disguised phoenix, something approaching a smile stretching across his lips. "Tell that to everyone who ignores me, and I'll call it even. So come on, oaf. We've got to keep moving."
—
Wren wanted to stretch his legs a bit before we returned, citing how being a mink was utterly infuriating sometimes. In the meantime, Chul had practiced his new insight into aetheric strengthening atop the sheared steps of Zatan'Alar, moving as if he were possessed by Primordial Fire himself. He moved with utter focus, heartbeat flaring and lifeforce burning in his veins.
As we three stared out at the endless expanse of mesas and desert, I was struck by how empty of life this small patch felt. Like the djinn's flying castle, I could not sense the heartbeat even of crickets and small rodents. All avoided the crumbling monument to asuran hubris. All but us.
And I let myself think, as I often did. I thought about what might come when this war with Agrona was done. When, alongside Seris, Sevren, Naereni, and everyone else, I helped topple the regime of a different kind of Fire.
Alacrya spins about itself, just like the legend of Zatan'Alar, I thought, lounging atop the colossal building. I was so far from the ground, but it somehow felt so close at once. A land of worship, hatred, and fear, all turned about on itself. Always moving, always churning, with the Sovereigns at the center.
What would happen when the Sovereigns were gone? When the tether that kept the meat-pulping machine cycling snapped, would those I loved fall prey to the gigantes of time as it bullied its way through every stone wall?
I didn't voice it, but sometimes I felt as aimless as Chul. Without foundation, what was there to do but fall? For nearly two years on this new world, I'd done naught but run from place to place, tethered only by the constant of my mother. She was my Anchor, my one certainty when everything changed so rapidly.
It would have been times like these where Aurora would chime in, sensing my contemplation and adding her own thoughts. Her words would assure me of my path, center and focus me on what to do next. But the place in my soul she used to roost was empty for now. Until I brought her back.
We returned to the gigantes with the tent later than expected, the sun dipping in the sky. Lo Phrain greeted us enthusiastically, thanking 'Arjuna' profusely for his service. Chul offered to help him set up the tent again, but the sylph waved us off, directing us toward another tent that had been set up temporarily for guests.
Now the tricky part would be finding some sort of excuse to leave, not-so-subtly following after the Avignis phoenixes.
That thought was taken from me, however, as I sensed killing intent waft through the air, thick and potent enough to rend the air from almost any white-core mage's lungs. A dragon's power uncoiled, thick and turbulent. The way it washed over me reminded me of glimmering scales and burning fire, teeth poised over a throat.
And opposing it? Opposing it was rage. Rage like nothing I'd ever felt, animalistic and chaotic and jumbled like a maelstrom. A rage deeper than anything I'd ever known, like an entire ocean dropping down a funnel of red.
I was already moving, trained combat instincts taking over. I shot through the sky, weaving around one of the gigantes as I sought the source of the confrontation. Telekinetic force coiled around my hands, golden-white and rippling with power.
Chul was on my heels, his heartbeat rising as his eyes blew wide. "Lord Yaksha, what is this?" he asked, breath heaving. He wasn't entirely recovered from expending so much mana earlier. "Such fury! I have never felt something so raw and terrible!"
I shivered, knowing that the young phoenix didn't comprehend even half of it. The sheer, bloody rage was like a stain on the mana itself, yet still bound to a living person. It felt familiar somehow, resonant to something in my heart, but I couldn't pinpoint it.
"I don't know," I said hastily, listening to the gigantes croon in terror. "But something's happening near the leadmost gigantes. Keep close and be careful!"
I caught a flash of glimmering silver in my peripheral vision, felt a flicker of intent. I ducked in the air, aided by a few telekinetic pulls on the gigantes far below, then whirled with a thunderous mix of telekinetic force and raging sound.
A glimmering, silver spear had arced right over my head, wielded by one of the two dragon twins. I matched her golden eyes, now hidden behind a plated, winged helmet. My fist thundered towards her, ready to reap.
Her massive tower shield interposed itself between us just in time. My knuckles collided with the steel, a boom echoing out as the force sent her rocketing through the sky. At the same time, her spear darted out half a dozen times, sending pointed lances of pure mana more concentrated than anything I'd ever felt hurtling toward me.
Mana didn't flow in the same way it used to, constricted by my core and my mana channels. In my hand alone, there was more mana than I'd stored in my white core, and it was eager to react to my steady focus and rising anger.
Coating my hands in rippling, nigh-invisible sound mana and concentrated force, I batted one mana spear into the sky. Shattered another with a bone-rattling chop, deflected a third into and through the mountainside. Each impact made my lesser body strain, but my Integrated body—combined with the heightened nature of my inherited phoenix physique—withstood the assault, even if it left my muscles straining.
Chul, still disguised as a titan, hurtled in from the side with a roaring bellow, slamming into the dragon with the force of a bullet train. She was forced to reorient, both of them plummeting toward the ground, Chul's mana and heartfire pumping like a drum.
On rising adrenaline, sheer instinct, and the intent that I used like a guiding wire, I grabbed the last lance of pure mana that had been spearing toward me, creating a thin, pseudo-accel path around me as I spun. The second draconic twin, whose spear had been poised to punch through my back, was barely able to bring her shield around in time to deflect the railgun-bolt of her sister's own draconic mana. Sparks of screaming energy rang through the air, her silver metal shield creaking and splintering from the impact as the projectile whizzed into the atmosphere.
I was inside her guard in fractions of a moment, using telekinetic pulls to yank me closer. My body wasn't as strong as a full asura's, even with Integration's absurdly efficient methods of mana strengthening. But I didn't need to be stronger. Listening to her intent, feeling what she wished to do before she even knew it, I could dodge and weave and conjure telekinetic pulls to move about like a flitting hummingbird.
My sound-shrouded fist hurtled toward the dragon's face, poised to crater that winged helmet and send her hurtling toward the ground. With her spear out to the side and her shield flung wide, she had no way to dodge, no way to avoid the damage.
But I was facing a warrior asura, trained and tested in the arts of battle. Even as my knuckles dented her helmet, she angled her head to the side, dispersing the force of my blow, before abandoning her massive shield.
Her hand, now partly transformed into a rictus, draconic claw, speared toward my abdomen, ready to tear out my innards. Her intent was laser-focused, ignorant of the concept of pain. The dragon's eyes gleamed with cold calculation from behind that helmet.
I was already moving out of the way, weaving like a feather around her strike. A thin gash of blood opened along my torso, before a shrouded spirit grew around my fist. I aimed a sound-vibrating chop at the back of the dragon's neck, slamming into her mana shroud, before passing through. My hand crashed into her armoured shoulder, cracking scales, then bone.
I followed through, a cacophonous boom echoing through the world. The dragon hurtled toward the distant canyon like a bullet fired from a railgun, a grunt of pain my only true reward.
A few seconds passed as the air stilled, the victor of the short clash evident. In a moment, the dust cleared, revealing the dragon, entrenched in the crater her body had made. I aimed an arm down at the recovering woman, who was weakly pulling herself from the stone. My face was a mask of stone, my intent warping the air like a heat haze.
Abruptly, Chul flew back to my side, a few scrapes on his arms, his heartbeat wild and his breathing heavy. His disguise as a titan still held, which was good. He looked to me for guidance, his hands up in a fighter's stance.
What now, brother? those eyes asked, so full of trust and resolve. I shall follow your lead. Is it time?
"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded, my voice echoing wrathfully through the canyons. The cut along my side burned, meshing with the flood of adrenaline in my veins. Despite the urge to panic, my thoughts were as clear as a spring lake. "Attacking us without provocation? I have every right to slay you where you stand, dragon."
Have we been discovered already? I wondered, suddenly glad I'd told Chul my plan a few hours ago. If we have to do it now, though, it would be a mad rush to the River Suda. Extremely inopportune.
"You fly toward official Indrath affairs with hostile intent during times of utmost crisis," the twin Chul had clashed against said, her tone crisp and authoritative. She flew up from the ground where Chul had left her, hair whipping in the wind. She paid no mind to the fist-shaped dent in her tower shield, evidence of Chul's new heartfire strength. Her spear was still aimed at me. "That is warrant enough for intervention, Lord Yaksha."
"Hostile intent?" I repeated, letting my face show the full weight of my irritated skepticism. I sensed the utter calm in my opponent's intent, the sheer readiness of a warrior god. "I can sense the warring intent of Lord Sarvash battling something truly hostile, even from here. If you wished to test my mettle, dragons, then you needed only challenge me fairly. Games diminish you."
These dragons didn't want to fight us. This was a test, as subtle as a serpent's tongue darting out from its mouth. An evaluation of my abilities, because they had been unable to sense my power in the first place. The quick scuffle had barely demonstrated either of our abilities. And whatever was going on with Sarvash Indrath churned in the atmosphere, roiling and lashing out with teeth and fins and rage.
"It is the way of cowards to strike when our backs are turned!" Chul growled, adding his indignation to mine. "You wish a worthy contest, Lizards of the Spear? I would gladly welcome your challenge!"
The second twin—the one I'd embedded in the cliff face—finally managed to extricate herself from the rock. She shared a wary look with her sister, some unspoken communication passing between them, but I was done with this farce. I flew toward the source of the devastating aura, consciously aware of my surroundings.
Where before sylphs had gallivanted without fear in the sky, zipping and whirling and playing, now I sensed them hiding within the steam-vault cracks of the gigantes, cowering from the sheer weight of the infernal rage. Sweat beaded along my skin as I approached, my hands clenched at my sides. Something was far, far too familiar about that terrible rage.
Finally, I found the source of the storm.
From what I'd been sensing, I'd expected some sort of direct conflict, a clash of asuran warriors. Instead, I found the black-beared Sarvash towering over the epicenter, his mana flaring around him like flapping wings. The man's face was pulled into a snarl, a runed chain of wrought, dark metal clenched in his hands.
And ensorcelled and restrained by that chain, her visage one of utter, maddened rage, half-transformed into her true form, was UIysseiah the leviathan.