My blood is spilled.
The dragon has me in its jaws. I can't break free.
Graves bursts into sight, slamming against him. Another six or seven other draconids appear from thin air and start ripping into him. His blood ejects from his pierced throat and coats me all over again, but he's still biting into me. It hurts so much I can't breathe or think. Things are cracking. Breaking. I think he's about to snap me in two.
That is, until Alabaster decapitates him.
He's dead. He's dead. But I can't move.
His disembodied head still has its jaws clenched.
"I've got you!" Bast gets her claws in and rips the lower mandible apart from the skull, grabbing hold of me. "Shit! Bastard slipped away from me! How bad is it? Can you move?"
"O–Ow…" My left wing is clipped, pierced through with holes. I can't move it. And my body is riddled with sharp, deep pains from the puncture wounds. "I… Ahh…"
"You're alright. We'll get you back to the moon. Medic station's on the far side. Healers will have you fixed up in–"
She's cut short by another dragon attacking us both. Somebody snatches me from her arm and we're torn apart, leaving me grasping at empty space as I scream her name and reach for her in desperation. Two more titans arrive in force, crashing into her just before Vander and Plutoryl rush in to back her up. I'm not sure who has me but I'm not hurt any more than I already am, though my blood is leaving an odd suspended trail behind us as we go.
Dazed from my injuries and the blood loss, things start to blur together. I'm tossed onto someone's back and flown away, with hushed voices hissing all around me, draconic hands gripping and holding my body, and an oddly soothing warmth trickling through my veins. My perceptions flicker in and out as I try my hardest to keep hold of consciousness. It's a losing fight. When I try to move, a sharp sting stabs at my chest. It's there that I sluggishly identify a triplet of black quills embedded in my torso. They don't hurt on their own, but trying to move against them is excruciating. After that, I start to drift off as Graves' venom bleeds through me.
No. No. No, this can't be happening.
I have to help. I have to fight. I need to.
If I don't… If I don't? Someone might…
Get hurt? Is it… Is it me who got hurt?
Everything is so… distant. So far away.
I don't know what's… what's happening…
Someone's screaming. Is that… Is that me?
Did… Ah… Did I… Did I do well? Did I?
Or did I just… fuck everything up again?
Like I always do…
Am I… dead? I can't remember.
Where did I go wrong? Was I always wrong? Or was everything else? Maybe it was both. I was born in the wrong place. In the wrong time. With the wrong people. Stuck with so many things I couldn't control or change. I tried my best to make the most of it. But maybe I didn't try hard enough. Instead of trying to fix my circumstances, I burned them to the ground.
But even now that I'm second guessing myself… I'd do it again. In a heartbeat. They hated me because of my talons. How fucking stupid is that? It's laughable. And I hated myself for it too. For a while.
I guess sometimes things just can't be fixed.
Am I the exception? Or am I dead after all?
Something is ripped out of my chest.
Waking up with a gasp, I find myself sprawled out on the cracked and broken surface of the moon. Graves is looming over me in her draconic form, fist clenched around the three quills that were sedating me, now removed. Above her, the cosmos are at war, and the carnage has only worsened since I was put under.
My body is heavy as stone. Numb. Dull. There's no more pain. It's gone. I try to speak but nothing comes out. It feels like I'm stuck underwater.
"Slowly." Graves curls her tail, the terrifying lancet dangling over me, poised to strike. "Slowly. Drink."
I don't understand. Drink what?
The lancet lowers, a bead of green on its tip.
"Slowly."
I can't move to resist. Not that I care to. I trust her.
Whatever it is, the green solution tastes sweet. It's odd at first, sucking on the tip of her tail, but every swallow I take more and more feeling returns to my body. It's treating the numbness, reversing it, and making me feel more and more invigorated too. Bringing me back to life. It feels good. Very good. And it continues to feel better and better. I can't seem to get enough.
Sadly, she pulls it out of my mouth without warning. "Enough. Get up. We need to move. Now."
"F–Fuck," I gasp as it runs down my chin and neck. "What… What is… What?"
"Many things which kill may also heal." She licks up the excess with her black tongue. "Venom is no exception. Nor is medicine."
"And you–You made me suck it off your tail?"
"That or stabbing you with it."
"Y–Yeah, I'd rather drink it, actually."
"I prefer it as well. At least, with those I like. Now get up." She tells me that but then she drags me upright anyway, then tosses me on her back and takes flight. Her wasp wings are completely silent. "You're restored. No injuries. Umbra's blessings."
"Hells." I'm still regaining my bearings, clinging tight as she circles the heart of the explosive conflict. "Fuck. That hurt. Teeth in my fucking throat. My stomach. My back. I'll never forget that pain… But I thought… Doesn't her blessing only work if I die?"
"No. We recover from injury too. Faster, in some cases. Slower in others. Such as yours. Broken bones. When you move, they break more." She tangles up a lung dragon with rose vines from a distance, and the wyrms fighting it close in for the kill. "So, I sedated you. Still, you were moving. So, I killed you. Then you stopped moving. Here you are. All better."
"All better," I wheeze, wondering if I heard that correctly. She killed me? Graves poisoned me to death? Why is that kind of thrilling? "Um… Th–Thanks. Graves…"
What the fuck am I thinking? We're at war, here.
"How long have I been down?" I leap off her back and fly just under her wings. "And what's happened since?"
"Not long. The fight continues. Not much progress on either side. No dead Primarchs. Yet. Only dead Legends. And… less important Wretches."
"This is the most I've heard you speak."
"You asked questions. I'm your only source for answers. So, I answered."
The two of us pause our conversation to tag team a green-red electric kirin, scratching one more arcanist from their ranks. Sticking to Graves' side, I try to survey the battlefield but there's too much magic, smoke, blood, and chaos to see anything clearly. But one thing stands out above all others.
"Graves? Graves? Wh–Where's Umbra?"
"Hunting. They've gone afar. Into the deep. Where we cannot follow." She tucks her wings and bashes into a fire breathing quetzal, stabbing it through the skull from under, through the lower jaw. Just like that, it's over, and she chuckles a little as we move on. "Heh. Makeshift kirin."
It catches me off guard, and the joke is so fucking dark it makes me gasp before I start laughing too. "Hells, Graves! That's fucked up!"
"You like it."
"I love it!"
"Good. Bast's order stands. Arcanists. Better late than never. Let's go."
"I'm with you!"
I stay close, wondering if she decided to leave my shadow for good after that surprise dragon bite. Can't say I dislike it. Being tucked under this extremely deadly shadow's wings makes me feel nearly as safe as I would with Umbra. Hells, I hope she's doing alright. It kills me to think she might be hurt out there, somewhere, and I would never know or be able to help her. I'm reminded of our conversation on the moon, before this final clash began. I have to trust her. She can handle herself. I know that. I can worry, but it cannot break my convictions.
I will fight for her, even in her absence.
And I will ensure that her vision for tomorrow comes true.
With Graves at my side and Longevity on my back, I rush into the fray once more.