“Father,” he said. His voice cracked.

“Zento,” Kudako muttered with a grimace. “Stop pacing.”

The winged man paused in stride to retort, “I’m not pacing!”

“You’re nervous enough to make the trees shake.” As if on cue, a whisper of breeze swept in and sent the branches above the two warriors swaying.

Zento’s eyes darted towards the little clearing in the adjoining glade. In a patch of tree-shadow, he could see the crumpled form of SoYa propped up against a trunk, blankets cushioned behind his head. AsaHi knelt over him, stroking a damp rag along his cheek, the concern never leaving her face.

“What if he doesn’t make it, Kudako?” With that sentiment, he resumed pacing. His strides carried him over the golden grass in a jerky, agitated motion.

“He’ll live,” Kudako stated, watching the scene unfold, leaning against a silver-barked tree. “If the toxins got to him, he wouldn’t be breathing right now.”

“Still, I should have…” Zento’s words fell off.

The images played in his head. Time and time again.

Zento remembered emerging from the cloudy breath to the other side of the Passage, leading Thorne out of the disorienting haze. It was very likely the breath that had done it. That had dulled his senses so much not to realize that SoYa had fallen behind.

“I should have…” he struggled.

It was Kudako who had turned to look. The Dragon’s expression never changed as his voice rang out sharply, ‘Where’s the boy!?’

“You did what you could, Zento,” Kudako interrupted the mental re-run. He added with a grumble, “Running back into the breath like you did, not waiting for me. I can see where the boy gets his foolishness.”

Zento could do little to argue… because that’s exactly what he had done. He remembered thrusting the reigns into Kudako’s hands and running head-first back into the mists. He could only count himself lucky to have not been turned around in his expedition – it would have easily been his own death to become lost within the breath. Somehow he had managed to find SoYa — splayed out upon the bridge and unmoving – and pull him out to the other side.

“Ya family foolishness,” the Dragon repeated. His golden eyes were locked on to Zento’s nervous gait. “We don’t have time for this.”

A cold shiver ran over Zento’s body, efficiently stopping him in his tracks. “What are you saying?”

“We cannot wait here,” Kudako answered grimly, pressing his lips together. “If we don’t strike at the Spiral before we are noticed, then our quest here will fail.”

“Do you think they realize we are here already?” one fist closed tightly at Zento’s side.

“They are a tribe of pure warriors. That is what they are trained to do. You know that, Zento.”

“Yes… yes I do…” the winged man sighed out his tension. It was a strangely gentle sound, like the wind.

“We can’t drag wounded into this battle. It’s a sure invitation to his death,” Kudako added brusquely.

“Are you suggesting we leave SoYa behind?”

The Dragon straightened slowly, eyes measuring down the length of his golden-wood staff. “If he doesn’t recover within a day or two, yes.”

“That’s out of the ques–”

“We are in enemy territory now,” Kudako’s voice interrupted, stern and solid. It weighed down with all the pressure of stone. “The closer we come to the Spiral, the faster we will need to move. The weak will be picked off first. It’s hard enough to get into the Spiral in prime condition. Without all his senses, your boy won’t make it through the first fringe. I can almost promise you.”

The winged man fell silent. Only the sound of his ragged breath rose and fell within the deepening heaviness of the evening.

“Zento!” AsaHi suddenly called, her voice clear and sure even through the confusion. “Zento, he’s waking up!”

Waking up…!

His thoughts echoed the girl’s words dizzily. Zento made his way across the indigo glade, eating up the distance in a few long strides. He came to a stop, kneeling down next to SoYa’s quiet form, face painted with a thousand worries.

My boy…

AsaHi drew the damp rag across the Apprentice’s brow in a few gentle swipes, her voice embracing him. “SoYa… do you hear me?”

My son…

SoYa gave a soft groan, green light peering out from between swollen eyelids. His mouth moved, motioning words that did not come. Zento raised a cup of water to the boy’s lips, helping him drink.

I thought I had lost you…

The Apprentice’s gaze fell first upon AsaHi. She was leaning over him, the damp rag still in one hand, stroking his cheek. The soft smile that spread over his face was one of recognition. “AsaHi?”

“Hiiii…!” she breathed, burying her face into his shoulder.

“Hi, AsaHi…?” one hand weakly lifted, finding one of her hands with a soft touch.

A wave of relief washed over Zento his eyes never leaving the face of his son. He realized his own hands were shaking. Grasping his knees, he pressed his palms firmly out of sight.

I’m sorry…

Why was it so hard to say the words? Zento didn’t know. But ever since he had seen his SoYa again, there in the floating city, it was as if some great wall had come between them. It was only in that moment that Zento had begun to realize the true consequences of his past.

I was never there for you, even when you were younger. I should have done something more — I’m not sure what, but something. All I could ever do was tell you to hide the truth that you were a Mind Mage…

A cheerful exchange of words crossed the sunlit air between AsaHi and SoYa. Their hands were pressed together now. Their eyes were locked. For all the world it looked as if they were perfect together.

Maybe it is because of Tsu?

Zento swallowed back the lump in his throat, not wanting his uncertainty to show.

Is it because Tsu and I were always so close? Because you and I never made that connection – even if we wanted to?

SoYa’s eyes flickered away from AsaHi, as if noticing his father there for the first time. Silence suddenly fell. There were no words to share.

“Um… I’m going to see if there are any extra blankets… okay?” as if sensing the tension between the two, AsaHi got to her feet. Taking their silence as an indicator of approval, the girl strode out to the adjoining glade where Kudako was keeping stoic vigil over their packs.

Now left on their own, father and son remained looking at each other, uncertain of where to begin. Then, Zento lifted one hand, reaching it slowly forwards. He noticed that his fingers were still shaking. By the look on the SoYa’s face, he saw it, too.

How can I help you believe that you’re just as important to me? That I was just as scared of losing you back there… as I would have been had it been Tsu?

SoYa’s eyes grew suddenly pained, as if he could feel everything, all the emotion churning within his father’s soul. The Apprentice’s hand closed around Zento’s trembling fingers, his skin still cold to the touch from the freeze of the Passage.

“Father,” he said. His voice cracked.

Zento fought to keep his shaky hands still, “SoYa… I should have been paying more attention in the Passage. I should have realized that you weren’t there.”

You know I’d never leave you there on purpose. Leaving you behind the first time was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do…

SoYa’s face scrunched up, the other hand coming to enclose Zento’s. “It wasn’t your fault. The strap just snapped.”

“I thought you were gone…” Zento’s voice rasped.

He could hear himself. It sounded nothing like the great leader of Ceiswyr. The self-assured warrior, unflinching even in the face of overwhelming odds.

Yet, seeing his reflection in the softness of SoYa’s eyes, he was not ashamed.

“If I had lost you,” Zento clasped his son’s hands more surely, “I would have lost a part of myself.”

SoYa stared at him, dumbfounded. “You… mean that?”

“Yes! Yes, of course I mean that,” the winged man gave a choked laugh, finding no humor in the implications of the words. He said the only thing that his mind could grasp, coiled in rings of guilt, “SoYa, forgive me.”

SoYa closed his eyes, as if gathering some sort of inner strength. When he opened them again, they bore a striking glint of apology. As his mouth opened, the Apprentice struggled to sort through his emotions — not sure where to start, how to form words around what he felt.

It runs in the family…

Zento remained attentive during SoYa’s struggle, hope beginning to rise. For the first time he could see there were words between them, waiting to be released. There was the possibility of something to share.

“I was wrong,” SoYa decided to start simple. Direct. There was a lot to respect in getting the toughest statement in history out on the table first.

Silence again.

Zento offered encouragement in the way of a sympathetic look, gentle smile. SoYa’s hands were beginning to warm under his fingers.

“You were right,” the Apprentice admitted. The second hardest statement to make.

“How so?” the winged man tilted his head, giving his son the room he needed to try and express himself.

“You told me I needed the blindfold. I thought I could handle it. But I was wrong,” SoYa choked. His eyes misted over. Whatever he had seen there in the shadows, he was re-living. “I wish I had never seen…”

“What..?” Zento’s voice was rich with concern. “Seen what..?”

The boy opened his mouth, eyes wide, suddenly vulnerable. His face had begun to flush, an aftereffect of the toxins running through his system. He would probably be ill for days to come. “Just… really nasty illusions. Mind playing tricks on me… stuff about the Marked.”

There’s more to it.

But Zento couldn’t bear to press the issue. He simply retrieved the damp rag left by AsaHi, and began to wipe the heat from his son’s brow. SoYa was already distraught enough and his complexion was growing more flushed by the moment.

“Father…” the Apprentice’s eyes dropped weakly. Spots of fever broke out over his face. “Am I just a failure?”

There was a slur to SoYa’s voice that suggested the boy was talking out of his head as the fever swept over him. But there was also a sense that such a question had always loomed in the Apprentice’s mind – it had just taken a moment of illness to loosen his tongue.

“What? What makes you say that, SoYa?” Zento’s words crumbled, trailing off into the wisps of indigo leaves that swayed just above. A welcome cooling breeze.

The soft swish-swishing of the tall, golden grass lulled the glade. The Apprentice did not answer, as if contemplating the sound. His eyes closed slowly.

“SoYa?” Zento repeated, worry clenching his throat tightly.

“Let him sleep,” Kudako’s voice came across clearing as he poked his head into the glade. The one visible point of strength left in the world, the Dragon seemed to know best when Zento’s own senses left him. “He will need to rest off the fever.”

It was logic. But logic didn’t stop the feeling of falling apart inside. The shock of having almost lost his son to carelessness. Zento’s face seemed somehow more worn, more drawn with age as he remained kneeling, holding SoYa’s hand.

“He is a strong boy. He will be okay, Zento.” A hint of sympathy. Sympathy was hard earned from the Dragon.

“Yes… of course…” the winged man drew a long breath in.

Without flinching, Kudako added, “We have to press on. You know that.”

“Press on..?” Zento echoed, his voice distraught. “Then you do mean for us to leave him behind.”

“Remember what we are here for.”

“Yes…” The winged man lowered his gaze. “TsuYa.”

“Time is against us,” Kudako nodded. “We must not slow our pace. I believe that SoYa would agree, as well.”

Zento breathed in deeply, through his nose. The scent of the indigo trees was soothing. It was hard to believe danger could come from a place so dream-like in appearance. But Kudako knew these lands better than any of them could. The Dragon had been born and raised in the Spiral.

Torn with a sinking sense of a father’s torment, Zento pushed SoYa’s hair from his eyes. He finally nodded, “Yes. I know SoYa would agree. We must not slow our pace.”

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'It seems like they’re growing something in there?'

What is this place?

TsuYa peered around the strange chamber cautiously. His limbs felt suspended and his motions, even walking, odd and under-water. Light flickered from above through draping veils of various color, casting skittering shadows on the wall. The floor under his feet, looking to have once been polished to a shine, was far too grimy now to give up his reflection.

The humid stench of death and long-rot draped over the room, seeping into his pores. Death of a very violent nature. TsuYa wasn’t sure how he knew, he could just feel it.

Why is this place familiar?

Dressed in a loose night shirt and common black slacks, the Apprentice was on his way to his sleeping chambers for the night when he somehow ended up here.

I seriously made a wrong turn.

TsuYa’s dark eyes narrowed, picking out shapes in the room. He found himself coughing, fighting to breathe the grim air. Long, stiff figures lay crumpled against the far wall, some seeping dark pools that charted rivers across the grimy floor. Faceless, they were covered in long white squares of cloth, bearing the splattered remembrance of once-living things.

“Hedd-ynad…” he heard himself say. It was his brother’s phrase, and one that he rarely spoke. But nothing else fit the revulsion of the moment better.

In the center of the room was a display of technological wonder. Everything about it was eerily alien — a strange spiral of life tangled within death. The structure emanated a pale, ghostly light as if infused by the lost souls of the pooling figures on the far side of the chamber.

TsuYa found himself both drawn towards it and loathe to come any nearer. His coughing subsided after a moment, but then his chest began to burn.

One long, slender capsule, stood within metal fixtures. Except for the small glass area near the top, it was completely enclosed in a featureless black case. Numerous clear tubes and snaking wires ran into the shell from a small boxlike device.

It looks like some kind of control area for a machine.

A flight of numeric data flickered across a small black screen that was attached to the panel. TsuYa had no idea what any of it meant. His eyes traced the spiderwebbing wires, peering away from the first capsule to observe the second. His chest ached, a growing discomfort. He place one palm over his heart for support, finding his skin was as humid as the air around him. TsuYa forced his thoughts away, focusing on the structure before him.

Okay. Creepy.

Despite the fact the internal area was only a few feet in diameter, the clear globe-shaped pod took up most of the space in the center of the room. It was filled with a clear, syrupy liquid. Between the two capsules ran a single set of tubing. There seemed to be some sort of energy exchange flowing into the globe from the first capsule.

It seems like they’re growing something in there.

The whole structure quivered, fingers of silvery light reached out from the center of the globe. There was something moving within, something that blended into the light so easily that it was almost unperceivable to his eyes. But it was there. He could feel it becoming stronger with each passing heartbeat. And something about it left his body numb with terror.

I gotta get out of here!

TsuYa took a step back, shaking his head, trying to get the image out of his vision. He found himself suddenly frantic to leave the chamber. One quick glance around told him there were no doors.

There’s no way out of this place!

He choked with a huge gasping breath. The burning in his chest was unbearable. Staring down, TsuYa saw a shadow under his hand, spreading over his skin between the cracks of his clutching fingers.

“No! No! Noooo!” Swept by frenzied fear and the mounting pain, TsuYa collapsed against one of the slick walls. A howl wrenched from his lips. It began in his throat, transforming into a wraithlike shriek.

Something grasped his shoulders. Wrapped around his wrists. Hands came from the shadows, pinning his back against the wall. He heard a call, distant and distorted. Voices echoing in his mind, all saying his name. He wanted to lash out, throw off the weight. Break away, run in terror from the voices. But he was too weak to fight, too weak to think. The burning in his chest intensified with every heave of breath.

Something cold fell across his face. It jolted him, his eyes widening, the world reeling around him. The room peeled back, his vision shattering. TsuYa realized he was staring into the pale face of Aunt SaRa. And he was dripping wet with cold water.

Her hands were on his shoulders, fighting to keep him held against the white wall of the hall in the compound of Ceiswyr. Where he had been walking on his way to his sleeping chamber.

There were others there. Winged people he did not know, some who held him at his wrists, keeping his back against the wall. The dim shadow of Suzume peeked from behind robes, between feathers, a look of fear plainly there despite the veiling of her eyes.

“TsuYa?” Aunt SaRa shook him, as if he had been sleepwalking. “Do you hear me, now? Tsu?”

He coughed, blinking his watery eyes, “Aunt SaRa?”

“Oh, thank goodness,” her breath gushed out, hands slowly relaxing their hold upon him.

Seeing this, the winged people moved away. A few peered at where TsuYa now slumped, half crumpled without the hands to hold him up. Someone ushered Suzume off down the hall. They all knew to give Aunt SaRa her room.

“What happened?” TsuYa heard himself ask, staring up at his aunt like a frightened little boy. He fought the panic that threatened to show.

“I was hoping that you could tell me,” her tone was gentle and understanding, even in the face of the terrible unknown. “We heard you shout — it woke the whole hall up. When I came out, you were up against the wall, holding your chest. We thought you’d hurt yourself somehow.”

TsuYa lowered his eyes. Something in him yearned to cling to her, to tell her about the things he had seen. Like he had sometimes seen SoYa do when he had nightmares as a child.

I’m no child!

“When we tried to help you, you thrashed about like mad,” Aunt SaRa informed him with a grave face. “It took many of us to keep you down.”

But was that really just a dream?

“TsuYa?” she said gently into his silence.

He had nothing to say to her.

“Are you hurt?”

Gathering up all his resources, he murmured, “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” she was giving him his room. But there was still a trace of fear etched into her face, as if she knew there was something that ran much deeper.

“Yeah. I just want some sleep.”

“Do you want me to walk with you to your ro–”

“No, I think I can handle it.” TsuYa pushed himself to his feet, suppressing the low groan.

“Okay,” Aunt SaRa said, voice hardly a whisper. She pushed herself up on her tip toes and placed a soothing kiss on his cheek. “Good night, TsuYa.”

“‘Night, Aunt SaRa.”

He felt a little guilty as she turned, making her way back to her room. He knew he should have thanked her — other people would have pried or jabbed him with suspicion. But Aunt SaRa wasn’t like that. She somehow knew the right way to treat him, even back when he was a kid. And he never made an effort to return the favor.

TsuYa sighed, letting the tension roll off of his shoulders. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t real.

Really creepy, but not real.

That’s when he realized that his hand was still on his chest. As he drew his palm away, TsuYa’s mind began to numb. Under the spot where his hand had pressed, the flesh of his chest had turned a sickly color grey.

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“They build all of their military outposts in a circular manner like this, in layers.

“Where did Mister Kudako go?” AsaHi questioned, taking note of twilight’s arrival.

“To change,” Zento answered plainly.

“It takes him two and a half hours to change his clothes?” the girl asked in an incredulous tone.

And SoYa thinks I’m bad?

The winged man didn’t answer. His expression was lost to his own rising worries, as he had been for the past day. And now the night was coming. The sky cast a soft rose glow over the land, causing the tops of the indigo leaves to reflect in twilight.

Kudako had scouted out a safe resting place for SoYa. AsaHi and Zento had spent the day tending to the Apprentice in hopes that it would be enough for him to gain the strength he needed to continue with them.

He’s staying awake longer, now. But he still seems so sick sometimes.

Though SoYa’s fever had broken over the past night, his awareness seemed to edge in and out of sleep through the day. Every now and then, the Apprentice would add a sudden splurt of commentary to their sparse conversation. It always surprised AsaHi to see how perceptive he was, even in the middle of a half-awake state.

I wonder if he knows that Zento and Kudako are going to have to leave us behind? I wonder if it would bother him.

Still, AsaHi didn’t know where it was that the warriors were planning on going next. After a while of swimming in the silence, she told Zento so.

“The Spiral,” he answered. As if that told everything.

Typical.

The girl gave him a grouchy look. “That doesn’t help much.”

“Truth is, I really don’t know much about the Spiral,” Zento peered over at her. He was stripping the bark from a victimized stick he had discovered next to the woodpile. “This is my first time coming into the Outterlands. So a lot of what we all have to do is trust in Kudako.”

“Because Kudako came from the Outterlands?”

“Yeah. He came from the Spiral,” Zento nodded slowly. “He doesn’t talk about it a whole lot. But, it’s the place he grew up… where he was trained to be an Annihilator.”

“No wonder. I wouldn’t want to talk about it either,” AsaHi shivered. “Is there a reason they call it the ‘Spiral’?”

“I’ve never seen it before, but Kudako says it has to do with the way the people here set up their defenses,” the winged man began to draw a slow spiral in the dirt with the stick.

AsaHi watched him, curiosity reflecting on her face. She could see that SoYa was awake again. He was watching Zento, too.

The stick scratched a number of little “x”s along the outer rim of the spiral. Once this was done, he began to explain, “They build all of their military outposts in a circular manner like this, in layers. That way they can protect the domestic settlements in the center.”

“That’s a pretty good idea,” AsaHi admitted. She wasn’t one for understanding tactics. But it made enough sense to her.

“For them, yes. For us, no,” Zento murmured, poking the stick at the center of the spiral. “Because the thing we’re looking for is right here.”

SoYa shuddered. “You mean… you’re going all the way into the middle of an enemy nation?”

“That’s right,” the winged man leaned back, looking down at his sketch. Unceremoniously, he began to scratch through it with the tip of his stick. As if it might help breech the defenses that the warrior had yet to face.

“But why?”

“Let’s just say… Kudako and Zemi both agree that there’s something pretty important being guarded there.”

“The thing that will heal Tsu?” SoYa perked up a little, eyes watering.

“Maybe. It’s not a promise,” Zento frowned, scratching his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “But it’s what we’ve got to go on. Not to mention…”

AsaHi watched the warrior as his words trailed away. His face clouded with thought, showing his mind was going off in some other direction. The girl pulled him back on track, “What? Not to mention what?”

“Oh?” Zento shook himself out. “Well… Zemi claims that the source of the power that drove our clan into the Inner Realms can be located there. Kudako seems to have evidence to back up this idea. He says that long ago, the people of the Spiral were approached by a strange being of light… that may still remain there.”

“That’s right,” SoYa slurred slightly, trying to force his mouth to work along with his thoughts. “Kudako mentioned something about the creature that came from before the Fall of Time. That this thing appeared to the people of the Outterlands.”

AsaHi swallowed. “Does he think this might be the same thing they’re guarding in the center of the Spiral?”

They can’t expect to be able to fight something that powerful… can they?

“That’s what we’re going in there to find out, I suppose,” the warrior stretched his arms over his head with a low groan.

As if in reply to the sound, the forest gave a deep rumble. The vast vibration traveled over the ground like the din of an irritated thunderstorm brewing on the horizon. Except it was close. Real close.

“What!?” SoYa’s head jerked up, his eyes now fully open, jolted into waking.

AsaHi found her fingers clasping onto the blanket that was wrapped around the Apprentice’s shoulders. Whether she was reaching to him in order to ask or give protection, she didn’t know. Her voice quavered, “Zento..!”

The winged man was already on his feet. But to her surprise, his manner was relaxed and unassuming as he turned to face the forest. His voice teased, “Took long enough. Must be old age getting to you.”

“Wha…what..?” SoYa’s voice quavered.

“Relax, kids. It’s only ‘Dako.” Zento peered back over his shoulder with a droll expression. He added a quick explanation, “He’s taken his Dragon form.”

Both SoYa and AsaHi froze. The Apprentice managed to speak first, “Dragon… form?”

“That’s right,” Zento chuckled. “Kudako is a Servant of Zemi. He is a Dragon, you know?”

“Oh…” SoYa swallowed, eyes fixed nervously on the sounds of the forest.

AsaHi’s cheeks colored at Zento’s comment. She felt a little dumb — it had never occurred to her that Kudako had more than just the fin-ears and strange golden eyes.

I suppose it makes sense. Zemi changes forms, too.

“An odd sort Dragon,” Zento murmured. “But that’s a whole ‘nother story.”

“I should not come out,” the rumble in the forest suddenly formed words. And it sounded a lot like Kudako. Only bigger.

“They’ll have to deal with it sooner or later, ‘Dako,” the winged man waved a hand, beckoning toward the forest.

A deep grumble shook through the treeline. “Fine. But you get to deal with the hysterics.”

What does he mean?

Zento simply chuckled again.

I’ve seen Dragons before. Why would Kudako think I’d be afraid of him?

But as the branches trembled and parted, AsaHi could instantly see that this was not at all like the Dragons she had seen back at the Cleft. The creature was a mish-mash of Dragon and person, all mixed up in a crazy jigsaw conglomeration.

“Uh..!” AsaHi breathed the sound out through her mouth.

Her first reaction was to jerk back. Afterall, a Dragon was a Dragon, animal-like in its appearance, solid in its inhumanity. But this creature was neither man nor Dragon. And something about this was greatly disarming.

The creature was large — nearly twice the size in height and mass that Kudako had been. And Kudako had always stood very tall over everyone that AsaHi knew. The face was eerily familiar, it was plainly Kudako’s face, striped with the markings of a Dragon. His blue hair had grown wild, held back by a steel plate across his forehead. His fin-ears had grown longer, more pointed, more pronounced.

At first glance, AsaHi thought that his body was covered by some strange sort of plated armor. Looking closer, she realized that the armor was actually embedded into the flesh itself, covering Kudako as Dragon’s scales would. Thin fleshy tendrils spread from a star-shaped area in the center of his chest. They roped over his shoulders and arms and re-connected at the point that two powerful wings spread from his back.

Though he stood upright on two legs, his lower half looked all Dragon. Feet were now claws. Legs were now jointed haunches. A long, winding tail curled behind him, completing the unsettling image.

AsaHi peered over at Zento, her words rushing out in a breathless gasp, “You said he left to change–”

“I think you can call this a change, yes?” the winged man winked at her, amused with himself.

“You didn’t say anything about a Dragon..!” the girl covered her mouth, realizing she was probably being rude to Kudako.

“Hedd-ynad…” was all SoYa could manage. His expression was more of shock than real fear.

The Dragon remained detached from the camp, watching the three of them with sharp golden eyes. Finally, he murmured, “Odd.”

“Odd?” AsaHi forced the word out, trying not to squeak. Though Kudako’s Dragon form was not what she had expected, it was not repulsive or really that terrible to look at. Not after she had a minute or two to adjust.

Though if he was coming into battle with those claws… I bet that would be a different thing.

“Yes,” Kudako’s tone was low. As if he knew his voice had much more volume than before. “People are usually afraid of the Dragon.”

‘The Dragon.’ The way he said it was disowning. Though he didn’t seem distressed by his transformation, AsaHi could tell that ‘the Dragon’ was not his form of choice.

“It’s not so bad?” the girl tried to sound encouraging.

Kudako did not seem to hear. He gave Zento an inquiring look, “How can it be – the Dragon’s fear aura takes no effect with them?”

AsaHi fell quiet. The conversation had just flown directly over her head.

Zento shrugged, “Athrylith and Drei’distau. What’s so hard to understand?”

“Ah,” the Dragon murmured thoughtfully. “That’s true.”

AsaHi peered at SoYa. She could only take comfort in the thought that the Apprentice looked just as lost as she did.

“But why? Why the Dragon form now?” SoYa asked.

“Because, we’re going into the Spiral.” Zento grinned his way into the conversation, “There’s no point in hacking your way through outpost after outpost when you can simply fly over them!”

AsaHi’s mouth grew round. For just that moment, ZenToYa seemed like the most clever man on the face of the world.

But she would never tell him that…

“I see…” she said quietly. Then she peered at Kudako, trying to figure out a way to phrase her curiosity in a way that it would not cause hurt feelings. “Mister Kudako… can I ask a question?”

“If it pleases you, yes,” the Dragon began to move closer towards the camp. His pace was slow, as if not to cause alarm.

“Why do you…” AsaHi winced, “Look… so different from the other Dragons?”

SoYa hissed a breath, as if he wasn’t certain that such a thing should be asked aloud. Even if he really did want to know, too.

The Dragon, however, didn’t seem bothered by the question, “Mmm… you really wish to hear?”

AsaHi nodded quietly, eyes round.

“As you know, long ago I served as an Annihilator. I killed many people. I held no mercy for man, woman or child,” Kudako’s voice rose in a distant cadence. For a moment, he was not all that different from the Kudako that they had always known. “And because of those things, I now serve as a Flawed beast. I can never be fully Dragon. Never be fully man. You can see, now, the full effects of my curse.”

AsaHi wrung her hands, a sudden welling of pity in her heart. For as aloof and serious as Kudako was, he had never truly been unkind to her. “Zemi… has done this to you?”

“Do not speak of it as an accusation,” the Dragon’s gaze fell upon her.

His words were not harsh, but she still shrank back a little.

“If I had been given the justice I deserved, I would have been tormented a thousand deaths – the same as I had caused as the Annihilator in your lands,” he gave a soft sound, what might have been a sigh. “Lord Zemi gave me this form, yes. It is a form that demands my repentance. But it is also a form that presents me with a second chance. It is far more than a creature like me deserves.”

With that, AsaHi knew his narrative was over. The silence closed in around him, as it always did. A wall between the Dragon and the rest of the world.

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He leaned in closer. And they shared a simple kiss.

SoYa and AsaHi had been sitting in silence ever since Father and Kudako had left. The forest around them dripped with twilight mists brought on by strange heat that rose from the mossy floor. The fading sunlight streamed down in small pin-prick patches, dappling the ground around them.

His head was growing clearer as the day passed. Still, he found himself dozing in and out of awareness from time to time, dreaming along with the haze of passing light. And his body still seemed too watery to obey any command to move.

During all that time, AsaHi had remained next to him. She seemed unflinching at the thought that the warriors were now far away and they were left to their own devices. AsaHi always seemed to have better ways of dealing with her fears than he did.

Which was why SoYa had always been drawn to her. She had a sense of strength that he, in all his Mind Magery, could never seem to capture for himself. Even when she had come to live in the city of Nefol, a city filled with magic and far away from her home, AsaHi had made her stand. Simply to come be with him.

“You know… I thought it was really wonderful of you,” AsaHi said, straight out of nowhere. Her voice rippled through the flow of streaming light, sending his daydreams scattering off among the leaves.

SoYa peered up from under the folds of his blanket, taken aback. The words had been an echo from the past.

“Talking to Zento like that. It really made me happy… you should have seen how relieved he was,” she continued, as if to clarify herself.

But he was still intent on discovering the mystery behind the strange familiarity he felt from her first statement. It took him a minute or two of floundering through his thoughts before he could pin-point when he had heard those words before. When it came, it was a rush of blurred memory, sparking a slurred reply, “Do you remember the first time?”

AsaHi wrinkled her brow in confusion, as if trying to piece together what she had said to bring about the unusual question. “First time? First time for what?”

“When we first met…” SoYa’s voice was wispy with memory.

She smiled. A bright smile that touched the light behind her eyes. Obviously, she did remember. And it was fond. “Yes… you were traveling or something, weren’t you?”

“Yes… I was Searching…”

It had been nearly eight years ago. SoYa had set out from Nefol as a Searcher, one who traveled the lands in order to find others who were magic-sensitive. Searching for new students to bring to Nefol. That had been one thing SoYa was good at. Knowing who was gifted with magic and who was not. No one had known the real reason for his “intuition” stemmed from his Athrylith powers.

“And I was living in the Gathering near the lake… with my family,” AsaHi pursed her lips, thoughts of long ago flickering over her face.

It was during this journey that SoYa had run across the little Gathering – nothing more than a tented circle set up at the side of a lake. At that time, Gatherings were becoming less and less common. The idea of settling in a city had made a profound change on the way of life of the Inner Realms. But there were still clans that had not given up the way of the Gatherings.

AsaHi’s family had been one.

“That’s right. I remember I was surprised to see a Gathering there. It had been so long since I last visited one…” SoYa scratched idly at his cheek. “I think that’s why I decided to stop there.”

“We were forever grateful that you did…” AsaHi’s voice quavered a bit. A gloomy expression had fallen across her face – darker memories coming to mind.

The first thing SoYa had noticed upon approaching the Gathering was the lack of movement. Though Gatherings didn’t have the sheer number of people a city had, there was rarely a time that life didn’t bustle within the circle of tents. Children playing and sporting through the dust. Women keeping the wash, fixing food for the meals or mending clothes for the family. Young men in practice or out to hunt. Older men fishing along the lake.

There was none of this. And the silence had been unnerving as SoYa approached, calling his hallos.

A sallow-faced woman had come out to meet him, holding a young child close to her breast. SoYa had approached to bring his greeting, stopping when his eyes fell upon the face of the little boy. Instantly he knew the reason for the silence.

“What else was I supposed to do?” he peered at AsaHi, eyes searching her face. “Your people had been infected by Crugo. And I was supposed to be a Healer…”

Crugo was a fast-acting and highly contagious disease. In the older times, it often decimated string of Gatherings as it spread through the countryside, carried on the backs of the Wanders. The survival rate after catching such a disease was very low. The mages had managed to contain such things by magical means after years of research in Nefol. And though it wasn’t SoYa’s area of expertise, he had enough knowledge in the ways of a Healer to identify the illness.

“You knew what it was… and that you would almost certainly catch it,” AsaHi said softly, her eyes locking with his. Looking deep into his gaze.

“Yes, but…”

But the sorrow in the eyes of the mother. The child, dying in her arms, never experiencing so many of the joys that the world had to offer. And the thoughts of others that may be contained in the grim, silent tents…

“I just couldn’t leave,” SoYa shook his head slowly. The motion made him dizzy. “Not when there was a possibility of Healing them.”

He remembered there had been a much smaller number of survivors in the Gathering than he had expected. One of his greatest fears had been that he would not be able to tend them all. SoYa had never dared to ask how many had already passed due to infection. He had simply begun to make his rounds, Healing those that still had enough will of life in them. Instructing the others on what herbs to cook, how to make the droughts to bring strength and to ease pain. And comforting those in loss until the early hours of the morning.

“And then you did fall sick, too,” she frowned deeply. Concern at how close they had all come to a terrible end.

“But we were close enough to Nefol to make the ride back before the first real symptoms hit me,” SoYa reminded her. As if to point out that he had had everything under control.

The ones that were strong enough to make the journey helped to bring him back to Nefol for treatment. The Healers had rushed to his aid and to contain any of the disease that might have come with the travelers from the Gathering. They were kept under watch in the School, though treated kindly as guests.

“I remember wanting so much to see Nefol for the first time,” she gave him a meek face. “I guess it seems awful of me… after everyone being so sick… But I really wanted to go. And I think Father wanted us to go, too.”

Seeing their people Healed from certain death had sparked something within AsaHi’s father. He became determined to seek out training for any of his children should they have a magic talent. And it just so came to pass that all of them did show some sign of ability.

All save the youngest. The girl called AsaHi.

“But it was because you came to Nefol that we got to talk for the first time,” he gave a quiet grin.

SoYa remembered that day. Sitting in his bed, after having finally begun to recover from Crugo. People would come to visit him from time to time. There were dangles of flowers and books brought to keep him entertained.

Then, a knock came at his door. He acknowledged it quietly and the door opened.

Her first look had been shy. A young girl, about 15 passes, peering through the dim crack between the wall and door. She was poorly dressed and a little thin from a life hard-lived in the Gathering. But she had strength, too, due to the very same thing. Her green eyes reflected the sunlight that streamed through his windows with gentle warmth.

SoYa had recognized her as one of the people from the Gathering and encouraged her to come in. She did, staring at his room with a sense of awe. He had never considered his possessions to be fine… not until the moment he could see them through the reflection of her wonder.

She stammered quiet words, looking for something to say.

He hadn’t been much better. There was something about the girl that drew his fascination. Something that his senses felt from the very start.

“The first thing you said to me…” SoYa tilted his head slowly, “Was ‘I thought it was really wonderful of you’.”

“Really? It was?” AsaHi couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.

“Yeah. It was,” he smiled.

“You remember that?” she laughed. A musical sound of pleasure. “I don’t even remember that!”

“How could I forget?” SoYa wrinkled his nose. “I had just met the love of my life.”

“A scraggly little girl from the woods, you mean…” AsaHi teased.

He shook his head, “That didn’t matter to me.”

“And here I was, puzzled for years… trying to figure out how a mere commoner girl captured the eye of the eldest son of ZenToYa,” she teased him more, scooting closer. Her eyes shimmered in mirth. “SoYa, next in line to be High Guide of Nefol…”

“Well… you were the only one that never thought of me like that,” he replied, dolefully.

That’s when AsaHi laid her head against his shoulder, snuggling close and peering into the deepening sky. For a moment, SoYa was surprised. Quickly, the surprise melted into pleasure, his arm finding its way around her shoulder.

“It’s because you couldn’t tell anybody,” the girl said finally.

SoYa drew in a quick breath. There was little doubt what she was talking about.

She must have sensed she was on the right track because she pressed on, “No one ever said it out loud. But everyone expected you to be some great mage like Zento. And when you weren’t…”

“I was a failure in the eyes of the School,” he added with a long, labored breath.

“But it wasn’t true,” AsaHi murmured softly, as if musing the ideas for the first time. “Here it was, all along… you were a great mage. Athrylith are powerful and you’re strong with that talent… Zento has said so himself.”

“Well… I…” SoYa’s face began to flush.

It was hard for him to hear the word Athrylith, the one thing he had spent years of his life covering up. Yet, she talked about it so easily. As if it was nothing more than an ordinary occupation.

“It must have been awful,” she whispered.

Something in his chest wrenched and tightened, his breath sharp in something akin to a gasp. A reaction to the impossibility of sympathy, the one thing he did not expect to find in anyone. Not even AsaHi. Not after he had lied to her the way he had.

“How can you say that?” his voice was thin.

“SoYa, how long have I known you?” AsaHi gave him an impish grin.

“And in all that time you knew nothing about the Athrylith,” he pointed out, playing devil’s advocate against himself.

“Maybe not,” she admitted. “But it’s one false thing measured against a thousand things about you that I know are true.”

“But…”

“I’ve thought a lot about it, SoYa,” AsaHi leaned back, tapping his nose playfully to interrupt his words. And it worked. “Things make a lot of sense now that I know what you are. Things that you did. Things that you sometimes felt that I couldn’t understand.  I know you’ve lived with this hidden truth that has caused you a lot of pain.”

SoYa was stunned to silence.

“And I’m not going to be the one to hurt you more because of it,” she looked him in the eyes.

As the young moon broke away from the horizon, SoYa leaned towards her. His voice was thick with emotion that threatened to spill over, “AsaHi…”

Plain, some people called AsaHi. Unremarkable, the mages of Nefol would ‘tsk’. But SoYa knew better. He had always known better.

“I love you.”

He leaned in closer. And they shared a simple kiss.

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The Dragon remained silent, the alien-featured face studying the small outpost that lay in the forest at the foot of the mountain.

“So… what’s got your scales out of whack, ‘Dako?” Zento’s eyes flicked over to where the Dragon was crouching upon a low-rising spike of stone.

A gruff sound was the only reply.

“Don’t give me that,” he fanned his wings, undeterred. The flight had felt good even if the company wasn’t as enthusiastic. “Something’s going on in that head of yours.”

Fess up. I know.

When Kudako did not acknowledge his words, Zento knew he was right. The Dragon remained silent, the alien-featured face studying the small outpost that lay in the forest at the foot of the mountain. Though their scouting mission had not broken beyond the outer rim of the Spiral yet, Kudako’s demeanor had become more and more restless.

He’s not as good at hiding things in this form.

An agitated twitch of tail. The angle his fin-ears tilted. The animal reflexes spoke intensity of emotion that was strange to see in the stoic warrior.

Even after knowing him so long, he gets you fooled into believing there’s nothing much behind those eyes. But the Dragon sure brings it out.

Kudako claimed that he didn’t like the Dragon-form simply because it didn’t fight as balanced as his man-form did. Zento was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t for other reasons as well.

“You see those banners?” the Dragon finally muttered. There was something dark about his tone. If the banner had been right there within reach, no doubt it would have been shredded.

Zento squinted down at the outpost, eyes making out nothing more than a hazy blur where leaves ended and structures began. It occurred to him that Dragon eyesight was probably far superior to his own.

“Sure,” the winged man lied. “What about them?”

Though he couldn’t see the flags as far away as they were, Zento had a pretty good idea of what Kudako was pointing out. They had scouted past a number of outposts within the last round of their flight. The settlements were decorated with intricate banners of war.

“Every outpost has had the same banner.”

Zento pondered that thought, “Yes. I do believe you’re right?”

What is he getting at?

Sensing Zento’s lack of insight on the situation, the Dragon turned his head. Gold eyes flashed sharply. “It’s not supposed to be that way.”

“What’s wrong with a little yard décor, ‘Dako?” He knew it wasn’t smart to poke fun. But experience had long since shown that irritation was the easiest way to get Kudako to spill the truth.

The flick of the Dragon’s tail indicated that Zento was succeeding in one of the two goals.

“Maybe a floral design would be better? It would have gone with the pink trees around here.”

“Zento,” there was a warning in Kudako’s voice.

“What? I think more war outposts should use flowers as a mascot,” he smirked. “Shows that they’re comfortable in their battle prowess, eh?”

A deep, Dragony sigh. Then, “You do this on purpose.”

“Absolutely,” Zento chuckled good naturedly. “That’s why you keep me around.”

“Debatable,” Kudako gazed back out over the forest below. So much intensity, his body strung so tight… he could have been an etched part of the mountain side.

“So spill it.” Zento grew less chiding. More concerned. “I’m waiting.”

“The design on the banner belongs to a Ghost Clan,” the Dragon grimaced, fangs showing in disgust, “A family of honor-less warriors that deserved all ties cut from the Spiral centuries ago.”

“Ghost Clan?”

“It is a term that indicates that the family line of the Clan has dwindled to less than twenty in number. In this case, there was a very good reason why this line should have gone extinct.” Claws dug into the stone of the mountainside causing a downpour of stone and dust to rain down the steep face. There was anger there. And a lot of it.

Wow… I’ve never heard Kudako talk like that before.

“Something tells me they’re not on your good list,” Zento noted.

“Perceptive of you,” the tone was frighteningly flat. No humor. No emotion. An underlying note of restrained vengeance.

The winged man fell silent. There was curiosity on one side. And a gnawing dread on the other. So his next question chose to explore neither path, “If the Ghost-Clan is so few in number, then how come their banner is at every outpost we’ve passed today?”

Zento’s own words rebounded back to him from the mountain’s stone. Suddenly he realized exactly what was troubling his companion.

A clan so few in number… yet by the look of things, it has come to dominate the entire Spiral?

Within the grim silence, the wind began to blow. It cast through the wild blue streams of the Dragon’s hair. But it did not ruffle his wings.

Something’s just not right with that…

When Kudako spoke again, it was measured. Deliberate. “The people of the Spiral were once many small groups that all lived in these forests. Over time, these groups became what we now call the Clans. These Clans were originally fiercely independent, living far apart. A dominating Clan would have never been acceptable.”

“So why is it acceptable now?” the warrior asked with a slow frown.

“Everything changed within the Clans when the Lion appeared.”

“Lion?” Zento echoed with interest.

“I did not know what was really going on as I grew up. Of course, I could not know. I had never spoken with Lord Zemi,” Kudako seemed to be half musing with himself. “It is only now that I look back and recognize the Lion as One that existed before the Fall of Time.”

The winged man scratched his chin. “Yes, you’ve talked about this creature before. So it has a form?”

“The people of the forests call it a Lion. That is what it resembles. But, what it is really is, no one knows.”

“This is the same creature that sent his warriors to hunt down my people, correct?” Zento furrowed his brow, trying to play connect the dots.

“Yes… and no,” Kudako answered, messing up the pattern.

“Make up your mind?”

“It is hard to explain,” the Dragon pursed his lips. The tail was twitching again. “The Lion appeared in a fantastic display of power, impressing my people. And it gave us a warning against the nation of the north realms, the ones that were protected by the Dragons.”

“Okay…”

“Because of this, the scattered people of the forest came together. The independent Clans united and were given instructions by the Lion to create the structure now known as the Spiral.” Kudako drew a circular motion in the air with one finger. “But it was the people who decided to begin training for war.”

“So what are you saying?” Zento’s voice was low. Grave.

‘Dako, buddy, when you keep secrets, you keep them big.

“The Lion merely brought the warning about the people that were associating with Lord Zemi. It said that Lord Zemi was increasing in his influence. And this was a danger to our lands,” the Dragon began biting off the words. “But it was the nations of the Outterlands that chose to hunt down your people in a senseless bloodbath. It was the people of my Clan that chose to train their children to become Annihilators.”

“I see… So the Lion had nothing to do with organizing the war against my people. It simply brought the news of Zemi’s involvement?” Something big to think about. For sure. “But this Lion… it still remains in the Spiral?”

“That is part of the reason that Lord Zemi has sent us here.”

Zento stated sharply. “The reason we are here is because of my son.”

“Maybe,” Kudako’s voice had grown firm. “Or it just so happened that your agenda and Lord Zemi’s have run alongside each other. One way or another, we would have come here, Zento.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his head snapped around, green eyes narrowing.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.” Offhand. A dismissal.

Zento scowled, “Don’t just brush me off like that, ‘Dako. Zemi’s up to something, isn’t he?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

The winged man grimaced in frustration. When Kudako went tight-lipped, there was nothing more to be done for it.

“Zento,” Kudako’s voice was level, offering some form of consolation. “There are things in motion that you and I cannot begin to understand. The Arweinydd now walk the earth. The flow of Chaos is strong in our world. It is only a matter of time before something will have to bend.”

Letting out a long, shivering breath, Zento peered at his companion.

“I do not know the mind of the Arweinydd,” the Dragon continued. “I am merely a Servant to his plans. However, I believe that Lord Zemi cares for the people of Ceiswyr. I believe he will do whatever he has to in order to protect them. I believe that the people in the Outterlands have proven vicious enough to warrant us to be here today.”

“Maybe so…” Zento sucked on his bottom lip. “Though I don’t understand what he expects us to do here. And how this is supposed to help cure Tsu.”

“I don’t fully understand either. But, I trust that Lord Zemi will tell us what we need to know when we get there,” he said. “We are the only ones he could have sent to do something like this. You know that, yes?”

“Yes…”

Kudako nodded. Then he added quietly, “Lord Zemi cares about your son. I don’t think he will abandon him.”

The winged man let out a long sigh. “I guess so. It just sucks when Zemi starts lining all these things up without telling us. You’d think by now he’d know he can trust us.”

“I don’t think it has to do with trust or the lack thereof,” Kudako shook his head. “I don’t think that even Lord Zemi can predict what’s just on the horizon. We all play life by ear.”

“That’s true…”

Kudako’s gaze had left the outpost in the forest below. Gold eyes scanned the sky in the distance. The direction that the two had flown in from earlier.

Zento found himself turning to follow the gaze, a slow tension creeping through his limbs. Two dark, winged shapes were making their way towards the Cleft, outlined in a hazy wash against the cloudbanks. There was no doubt as to what they were – it was far too familiar of a sight to the both of them.

Kudako’s voice only confirmed what he already knew. “Dragons…”

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“Back!” SoYa commanded, thrusting his staff forward.

“SoYa…” AsaHi was folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. “I’m really worried.”

The Apprentice was taking his turn at the afternoon meal, cooking small slabs of meat on a wide, flat platter. The color had begun to return to his face after being allowed another night of rest. The morning had found him able to move around with only the sparest signs of weakness.

“What’s wrong?” SoYa’s eyes flicked up at her for a moment before returning quickly to the food. He had a habit of burning things if he let his mind wander. Still, there had been a spark of true concern on his face that encouraged the girl to continue.

“I was thinking about the Marked…”

He drew in a sharp breath. Then covered up his reaction by flipping the slabs, one by one.

“And I was thinking about how they looked like they had once been students of Nefol…”

“AsaHi… don’t…” SoYa interrupted quickly, stopping her train of thought.

Something’s really bothering him.

She folded her hands one last time, peering at him closely. With just a few words, his whole disposition had fallen into distress. The way his hands jerked. The way his eyes settled on the fire and would not glance up.

He’s been like this since we crossed the Passage. I know he’s been sick but… it just seems like something more is going on.

AsaHi pushed forward before he could protest, “I’m scared for my family…”

SoYa’s head finally jerked up. The expression was one of surprise. As if she had taken the conversation a direction he had not expected.

What did he think I was going to say..?

Finally recovering, the Apprentice stammered, “That’s right… some of them were in Nefol.”

“I don’t know. Most of them were probably away on Tasks. They’ve all passed into Novitiate status, after all,” she told him. Then she smiled, “None of them could sit still long enough to be Dragon Apprentices like you. My family has the wander bug, you know? Mother and Father could never settle down in a city.”

SoYa smiled slightly in return. Then his face fell grim again. “Well, that wander bug might have saved them for the moment.”

“Yes… but what of the other towns? The outlying Gatherings? Is Nefol the only place that’s been affected? And how deeply has it gone?” AsaHi began to throw it all out on the table.

“I’m not sure…”

“How many were changed into Marked? Is the whole city taken? Did anyone get out?” she continued shaking her head. “I mean, obviously Zerom was able to influence TsuYa. And if TsuYa was wearing the robes of the High Guide, then that means that–”

There was a look of pained horror on SoYa’s face that made her stop, words trailing away into the smoke from the burning meat.

He looks so scared…

“I’m sorry,” she told him. And after a moment, “SoYa, you’re burning it.”

“Oh!?” he jerked his mind back to the present, pulling the platter off the fire with a mournful expression. His eyes lifted to her face as if to make an apology.

“It’s okay,” AsaHi interrupted with a smile, trying to make him feel better. She stabbed at a slab of meat and put it on her plate. “I like mine well done.”

“If… that’s what you call it?” SoYa poked at another slab, turning it over to find the other side equally as black. He sighed.

Poor SoYa…

The girl took a slow bite out of her meal, grinning slightly. “Well, if you imagine hard enough, you can try to believe it once might have tasted like meat?”

“Thanks…” the Apprentice murmured in mock-offence.

I shouldn’t have brought up such depressing things. He’s only just beginning to recover.

“I see the logic at work here,” AsaHi continued. She cutting off a slice, stretched over the small fire and stuck it in SoYa’s mouth. “You burn everything in sight so that no one will dare ask you to take up the cooking duties. Right?”

SoYa coughed, working hard to try to swallow. “Wow… this is bad!”

AsaHi giggled, watching the expression on his face fluctuate through the various stages of chewing and swallowing something bad tasting. His eyes watered a little, mouth turned up in a teasing smile of his own. Then his gaze slid past her into the swaying branches and grass that stood tall behind her. Her breath caught as she watched his expression transform once more, the good-natured cheer melting into a sudden fierce anger. His pupils contracted, his face paled, and his hand rose from his plate — palm spread outwards, five fingers pointed forward.

What..?

“AsaHi!” he hissed.

It was the only warning she had before the shadow dropped out of the tree behind her. Motion overlapped motion. If time unfolded, she could not see it. Everything became a blur.

Something invisible brushed past her head. Her hair swept back as it might with the wind — only it hadn’t been the wind. It was an unseen force that had come from within SoYa’s hand.

Mind Magic!?

Her senses reeled with the sudden realization that they were being attacked.

Whirling to her feet, AsaHi turned to face the ambusher who had dropped from the tree behind her. He was a man of pale-yellow hair, dressed in what looked like some sort of strange battle armor. A spiraled mark was scrawled upon his cheek in war-paint the color of blood.

As the girl’s gaze locked upon the attacker, she froze. An icy chill of shock rushed through her at the terrible vision unfolding before her eyes.

What’s happening to him?!

The short, curved blade dropped from his hand, the thud of metal meeting earth a dull pressure in her ears. With a gurgling cry, the attacker’s hands reached up to claw at his throat, like a man drowning in air. His eyes misted over, turning a milky white and rolling back into his head. Then with a heaving convulsion, he crumpled to the ground where his entire body began to writhe. White froth spewed from his mouth as the veins in his face and neck strained blue against the underside of his pale skin.

Finally he lay still, as if his body had simply given up, his breathing coming in low rasping sounds. AsaHi reeled back with a strangled gasp. Numbly, she turned to face the Apprentice.

SoYa ..?!

His hand was still outstretched, his face resolute in a way she had never seen before. There was a spark of sheer intensity in the depths of his green eyes. The power of absolute command.

“AsaHi, get behind me!” the voice hardly sounded like SoYa at all.

Staring into his face, AsaHi felt a lump of fear growing in her throat. Her legs seemed to turn to jelly, refusing her motion.

“Get behind me, now!” he ordered sharply, a tone frightening in its unfamiliarity.

SoYa rarely commanded anyone — not even back in Nefol. But now he stood before her, his stance firmly planted, not a hint of hesitation. His staff was upraised in one hand, ready to meet the group of attackers as they erupted from the surrounding brush. Shaken, AsaHi scrabbled for balance as she stumbled across the glade. She could hardly feel her body, her arms wind milling as blankets, pans and packs all cast barriers in her path. With a final frightened gasp, the girl dove behind the safety of the hem of SoYa’s robe.

The attackers closed in, circling their camp. Through blurred vision, AsaHi could see them – big-statured warriors, all bearing curved weapons and ice-blue eyes. Each face was painted with various spiraled designs that seemed to twist through the haze of her overwhelmed senses.

“Back!” SoYa commanded, thrusting his staff forward. There was a power to his voice that made AsaHi shiver, despite the fact that the words were not directed at her. Absolute, raw, indisputable. Control.

The warriors froze in their advance. Commanded by the single word.

The Athrylith…

For the first time, AsaHi began to understand exactly what the word meant. And what made the Athrylith so feared — the terrible power to control the minds of others.

SoYa’s upraised arm had begun to shake. His fingers were pale at the knuckles where they locked around his staff. The light from the staff’s stone wavered as the sweat began to bead on the Apprentice’s forehead, the weakness of his illness returning.

“AsaHi… I can’t hold them…” his whisper was frantic, much more like the SoYa she knew. Still, his eyes never left the attackers. “You’ve got to run.”

“I’m not leaving you here!” she protested.

“If you go now, then–”

“No!” AsaHi clung to his sleeve. All her determination packed into one word.

“I can’t hol…” SoYa’s voice wavered. He stumbled, face bleached the color of his white shirt.

Please…!

She fought to support him as his weight collapsed back on her. From over his shoulder, AsaHi could see the wolfish faces of the yellow-haired men as they resumed their advance. As if they had known all along that SoYa was weak and could not hold such taxing magic against them.

Oh, SoYa, please!!

AsaHi found herself dragged to the ground, holding SoYa’s limp form against her chest protectively. She could see the patchwork light reflecting off the dim blades, points of dark then light, as they drew near. No emotion. No reason. Simply death painted in spirals across their faces.

In desperation, AsaHi willed a wordless plea to the overhanging branches.

And the sky opened up above her with a vast crescendo of deafening sound. The earth vibrated under her. The trees swayed as a tempest swept through the glade in the form of deep crimson wings.

One of the Dragons!

It was huge – quite possibly the largest creature she had ever seen. Kudako’s Dragon form was easily dwarfed next to the blazoned red immensity. AsaHi’s thoughts reeled back to the first time she had seen a Dragon. She decided that seeing one right there, in the glade and on level ground, gave it twice the size.

It’s… it’s the Dragons I saw at the Cleft! I’m pretty sure of it!

The first Dragon, the larger of the two, advanced on the warriors that were making their stand against the beast. A trumpeting roar shattered the air. AsaHi was convinced that it shook loose every bone in her body. SoYa did not stir in her arms.

With a flurry of wild-eyed bravado, the group of warriors rushed the Dragon. They found themselves scattered with the first colossal swipe of its claw. As if they had been nothing more than annoying little insects at a picnic party.

Hedd-ynad!

Though the great beast did not seem of particularly vicious intent, it was obvious that it also didn’t mind dishing out a beating on anyone who was foolish enough to try to engage with it. Huge claws left imprints that spanned twice the girl’s height across the soil and tender grass. Trees gave way, crushed under the whip-lash of tail.

The thought of what might happen if it let loose with the breath of flame terrified AsaHi. Much to her relief, it did not.

The second Dragon, more bronze in color than the first, had not moved since it landed. Now that the yellow-haired warriors systematically began to retreat, it spread its wings with a practiced flourish and made a short glide through the glade.

The shadow was upon AsaHi before she realized, a large claw reaching down for SoYa. The Apprentice was pulled deftly from her arms. The girl was too stunned to do anything but watch as the Apprentice was taken off above the treetops, in the claws of the Dragon.

No! Bring him back!

That’s when the great shadow came again. Her frightened eyes shot up, catching the blurred vision of the huge crimson claw closing in around her from above. AsaHi let out a broken screech of fright, hands wrestling uselessly against the powerful grip. Staring down, she saw the earth shift, then shrink below her.

Her breath came in panicked rasps, body trembling all over. Zemi’s Servants or not, these Dragons were huge, dangerous beasts.

What are they going to do to us!?

That’s when the Dragon’s voice came. Vast, booming and jovial. “Sorry about that, Morh-AsaHi. Couldn’t leave you there. Those Spiral-folk were massing a swarm back in the forest around your camp.”

AsaHi nearly felt herself go faint right there.

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