“No, leave me alone!” he snapped. “Don’t touch me!”

TsuYa found himself trapped inside the great, dark chamber of his dreams once more. The same dull grime blanketed the floor. The same dark lumps of decay slumped in the far corner. The scent of stale blood and suffering filled his senses, making them writhe.

The same eerie mechanism stood in the center of the room. The silver light burning from the orb was brighter than he remembered. More intense. Larger in capacity. The feeling of dread that it brought was more powerful than before.

This is  only a dream, right? It was just a dream the first time…

Except for the burning in his chest. And the patch of darkness that had appeared on his skin afterwards. How he had fallen into the terrible illusion a second time, he didn’t know. But, there was no waiting around for the same thing to happen to him again.

Okay… I’ve got to think about this. There must be some way of waking up.

Now knowing it was some sort of dream, he could approach the situation with a bit more logic. After taking a few deep breaths of tainted air to ground himself and clear the jitters in his mind, TsuYa balled his fists at his sides with determination

Tossing away caution in search of the exit, TsuYa made his way around the strange machine. He kept his distance from the orb and its silvery light. His senses told him that whatever was going on here, whatever was being developed in the orb-machine, was done so at the hands of something very vile.

The floor under his feet crackled and flaked away as he stepped through dried black patches upon the tile. Both of his palms spread wide as he pressed his hands along the cold stone of the wall. He could feel only the slick solidity of their darkness. Nothing more.

With a frustrated sigh, he turned to make his way around the orb-machine to the other end of the room. That was when his eye caught a pale glimmer rippling within the depths of the machine’s smaller, dark capsule. TsuYa felt his throat constricting as his gaze locked on the unknown.

Is there something inside?
A small, round window had been built into the back side of the capsule. He had not seen it before coming to this side of the room. But now that TsuYa was aware of the window, he couldn’t pull himself away from the terrible flights of imagination that scattered through his mind.

One small window. A pale glimmer of white within.

I don’t want to see this…

But his thoughts did not change his direction. TsuYa was already moving forward in a slow, deliberate crouch. Like a creature that was getting ready to pounce. Or run.

I really don’t want to see this…

The drumming of his heart grew in intensity as he crept closer. Revulsion grappled with fascination. The stale air of the chamber had already begun to choke him. The tell-tale sign of chest burning was beginning.

All logical thought fragmented away as his eyes focused on the tiny window in the back of the capsule. His stomach churned with the threat of illness. His hands began to shake, though the rest of him was frozen, rooted in nauseous horror.

A pale white face stared out from the capsule window.

A girl!

She couldn’t have been much older than twenty passes – about AsaHi’s age. Her eyes were open wide, staring vacantly into nothing. The pupils had shrunk into tiny black points within a vibrant ring of green. Long white hair swayed through the capsule’s clear liquid to the motion of induced breathing.  Her face had once been soft and attractive…

…but now it seemed as if the features of the girl were melting. Like she was being drained, fed off of. Her flesh was sapped of all color, waxy and swollen. Her body was illuminated pale silver, much like the light that shown from within the globe. Her eyes were the only thing that still held color.

A choking wave of illness gripped TsuYa’s body. The burning within his chest was growing more acute, though he hardly felt it for the overwhelming waves of nausea.

Fighting to regain his breath, TsuYa ripped his eyes away from the window. He tried to move. To struggle backwards. Away. But between the retching reflex that shook his entire body and the fire that had engulfed his lungs, he found himself forced to his knees.

No! Not this again!

His voice ruptured the death-silence. It came as a raspy, animal-like sound, “Someone please! Help me!”

A sudden pain cut his cry short — a sharp sting on his cheek. His head jolted back from the unseen force, one arm raised as if to defend himself. The sting came again, this time from the other side. TsuYa gasped, reeling back, his eyes fighting for focus, the world blurring as if being seen through the distortion of dark water.

Then the vision of the terrible room was torn away as the dream world shattered within his mind. TsuYa blinked, trying to get a grip on his surroundings.

JouKa stood over him with one hand cocked back, ready to slap him again. Both sides of his cheeks were already aglow with the flush of her abuse.

As his gaze focused on her, she slowly lowered her hand, “Finally…”

Daylight streamed into his eyes, burning his vision with golden brightness. The quiet sounds of the sky Island wove around him, mingled with the scent of warm grass and dozing flowers. A blur of misty clouds meandered in the distance, a slight breeze teasing through JouKa’s short-cropped hair. TsuYa could now feel the rough bark of a tree behind him… where he must have somehow fell asleep to the lull of the hazy afternoon.

“You always like to slap people around when they’re sleeping?” TsuYa grumbled up at her, trying to hide the absolute relief he felt in seeing her face.

“If you call that sleepin’…” JouKa’s eyes watched him with a wary expression, something remotely akin to concern. He could only wonder what she had seen or heard. “Yer not supposed to be dozin’ off when watchin’ over Suzume.”

“I know…” he sat up with a quiet groan, running his hand along the side of his face and fighting to find his breath. For all the world, he wished he could have found some off-color retort at that moment. Nothing but weakness filled his mind. “Where is she?”

“SaRa took her back to the compound,” JouKa replied, peering down at the grass around her feet. After a long moment of silence she peered up and murmured, “Do all Neffies sleep with their eyes wide open?”

“Eh?” TsuYa wrinkled his brow.

“You were sittin’ there, starin’ off into the sky,” JouKa spoke slowly, seeming somewhat shaken. “I didn’t know if it was just somethin’ weird your kind do. But then yer face started to change… like you were seein’ all kinds ‘o stuff you didn’t wanna be lookin’ at. And you were holdin’ yer chest like you were about to die! So when you shouted out, I came over and obliged you with a slap-around. It took a few to bring you outta it and… ”

JouKa’s words faded in mid-statement, her face growing mystified as he peered down at the open front of his shirt. Sometime during his dream he must have mimicked his own motions in the waking world — one hand was clutched tightly over the dark patch of skin.

“What’s that?” she reached for his arm.

“Nothing,” he growled.

“Are you hurt?” JouKa gripped his arm tightly, as if to pull it away.

“No, leave me alone!” he snapped. “Don’t touch me!”

She blinked, startled by the unusual ferocity in his voice. Then she continued to press, “Come on, big cry-baby. If you’ve banged yerself up, let’s get a look at–”

TsuYa jerked his arm from her grasp, sharply enough to break her train of thought. That’s when he realized his mistake. He had moved his hand. And now JouKa’s eyes were fixed on the grey patch of skin on his chest.

His hand itched to pull the laces of his shirt back together, as if the mark on his chest was some terrible secret to keep from the entire world. Pride left his hands where they were, shirt front open.

“What are you staring at?” his voice grated darkly. Angry at everything.

The look in her green eyes and the pressing silence spoke plainly that she didn’t know the whole story. But she could figure out enough.

It’s not like she could understand. Light, I don’t even know what’s happening to me!

Nothing remained but the desperate, angry suppression of the fear that threatened to overrun his life. And the lost feeling that there was no one in the world that could help him. That this would continue until he was consumed.

How can I tell anyone? They’ll cast me off the Island, to the Marked. Or lock me up in a little chamber so I don’t go and hurt anyone.

Finally he did pull the laces of his shirt closed, head turning from the intensity of her gaze. Fighting back the predatory despair that circled him, coming closer each pass.

What did I ever do to deserve this? It was just one mistake…

He tilted his head back against the tree trunk, peering away into the sky.

Just one mistake!

JouKa didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She simply stood there, watching him. From the other side of the cold wall he had built between himself and everyone else.

I didn’t even know that voice was Zerom’s!

He drew in a ragged breath, trying not to break down. Not there. Not where the world could watch him.

I just wanted to do what was right for the School… I swear, Father! I just wanted to do what was right…

“TsuYa,” she finally spoke. “Yer in trouble, aren’t ya?”

“Just leave me alone!” His voice hissed from between his lips, “I don’t want your pathetic sympathy. I don’t need anything from anyone!”

JouKa weighed her words. Then she told him sternly, “You lie.”

She said nothing more beyond that. Wrapped within the silence of her wings, the girl simply sat down on the other side of the tree. Close enough so that TsuYa would not be absolutely alone. Yet, far enough to leave him to his tortured silence.

Then he withdrew a short cylinder of plain black metal.

“You were going soft on the prisoner,” Kudako critiqued with a low voice.

The Dragon did not look back as he stepped over a blackened lump on the ground. It seemed to be a part of the decadent, half-crushed building not far away. Whether it had originally been wood or stone was impossible to tell.

“He was not much more than a boy, ‘Dako,” Zento replied, stiffly.

“That boy would have slit your throat if you had so much as turned your back to him.”

“And does that mean that we should stoop down to their level and treat them the same?”

“Zento, this isn’t about stooping,” the Dragon pushed through the scraggily brush. The ground was nothing more than a large black smear as far as could be seen and the scent of dead-silence hung on the air. “This is about surviving. They will have no mercy for you. Don’t you forget that.”

Still… he was hardly much older than Tsu…

The winged man peered at his companion’s back in thought. The Dragon had returned to his normal man-like form after they had released the prisoner in the forest. However, the message that Kudako had dictated there, the statement of vengeance, had left the two in silence as they made their way down into the valley.

Another side of ‘Dako I’ve never seen yet. There’s always something more to him than he lets show.

When word came from Islay that AsaHi and SoYa were safe in Wyndor, Kudako had taken the Dragon aside for a long conversation. After parting, he struck out due south, face a mask of stern determination.

Something’s going on… and he’s not telling me what.

Kudako was now leaning over, peering into a gutted, black hollow that looked to once have been some sort of well. Finally, he turned back over his shoulder, “The boy will die, no matter.”

“Why?” Zento heard the word issue from his mouth sharply. His feet planted firmly into the ground as if he expected some sort of confrontation.

“That boy was scared for a reason. And it wasn’t just of us,” the Dragon was running his fingers through the dark, grainy soil. Then he squinted out across the blackened ground. “Most likely he was sent with that troop as the final part of his Testing. Because he failed to kill his prey, he has shamed his Clan and is now worthless.”

“Man… what kind of test is that?”

“The kind every boy takes to become a warrior in the Spiral.”

“They always gotta kill someone?” Zento snorted, half joking.

Kudako, however, wasn’t joking, “Yes.”

“Woah… wait a second… so murder is the initiation process of the warrior society here?”

“They don’t consider it murder,” Kudako said plainly. “Even if it really is.”

“How can they do that to their kids?”

“Because these people have no soul.”

Zento fell silent for a moment, watching as Kudako strode across the charred ground. There was little doubt what had happened upon this site, a fire of some sort. And though it seemed to have passed over long ago, nothing had come to reclaim the blackened land. Not even a stray blade of grass.

“What happens if you fail this test?”

“Then you are deemed worthless,” the Dragon answered. “And you are slain upon returning to the Spiral to make up for the blood you could not shed.”

Zento choked, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“I am not.”

“They can’t possibly justify killing their own people for something like this?! How in Light’s name do they live this way?” the winged man protested. He could feel the heat in his cheeks rise.

“They know nothing different,” Kudako answered slowly. He knelt, eyes measuring the ground. “They no know love for their own kind. Everything that is done, every individual that exists in this society is all for one thing. The survival of those of the Spiral.”

Fed up with the half-baked answers, Zento strode around to stand in front of the Dragon, demanding, “I don’t care who you are or where you come from… you don’t just go killing your own people and not feel something about it. You’re telling me this doesn’t bother them? I find that impossible to believe.”

“That is because you know nothing about the people of the Spiral.” The Dragon peered up from where he crouched, “As I said, they have no soul.”

Arms crossed, the winged man scowled. “And that means?”

Kudako let out a deep breath, “Too much to explain.”

“Try me.”

“Maybe later.”

“No.” Zento’s eyes narrowed. “Not later. Right now.”

The Dragon scowled darkly, rising to his feet. But he held his silence.

“Listen, I know this has something to do with me. A lot to do with me,” he stabbed a finger forward. “Even if you’re not telling me a thing, I know that I’m a piece to some puzzle that’s being played. And I don’t appreciate being led around by the nose without having a clue as to what I’m doing… where I’m going… and most importantly what I’m fighting for.”

Kudako’s golden eyes narrowed.

“‘Dako, is this your game of vengeance? Cuz that’s not what I came for,” Zento began to ground his teeth. “I’m here to find a cure for my son… not to get involved in some ancient battle that is still running around in your fin-headed brain. I don’t appreciate the goals being changed in mid-stride.”

“You don’t know–”

Irritation rose as he snapped back, “Exactly! I don’t know! And you don’t seem to respect me enough to inform me.”

The Dragon pulled in a slow breath, measuring the words with a grim face. When Kudako spoke again, his voice was troubled, “Zento… I’m sorry.”

It was so unexpected that Zento’s anger vanished, replaced with a mounting worry. It wasn’t often that Kudako apologized.

Something must be really wrong.

“Hey… come on… tell me what’s going on. I know you’ve been really on the edge ever since we got here,” Zento urged, knowing it was probably futile. Kudako never spoke unless he wanted to.

“You’re right. I have been. That is why I didn’t want to come back into these lands,” he frowned slowly. “That is why I hope this will be the final time.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Lord Zemi aims to destroy the Spiral,” Kudako said simply before striding off across the burned glade.

“‘Dako! Where did this come from all the sudden? No one told me anything about this!” Zento followed, walking fast to keep up with his companion’s long strides.

Kudako just kept walking. “Calm yourself. It all fits together for a reason, Zento. You must trust Lord Zemi.”

“That’s all well and good,” he grumbled. “But that doesn’t give me any heads up on what’s going on. Come on, don’t tell me you would go into battle without knowing who you were fighting and why. Not even for Zemi.”

“For Lord Zemi I would,” the Dragon stated firmly.

“Well I wouldn’t. And I won’t,” Zento muttered, suddenly refusing to follow anymore.

Kudako stopped, a perplexed expression on his face. As if he couldn’t imagine anyone denying Zemi’s orders. “You don’t mean that.”

Realizing he found a bartering chip in the situation, Zento crossed his arms. “I do. I’m not moving one step from here until I know the full thing. Got it?”

Head bowed, ears pined back, a low grumble rose in his throat, “Fine. I’ll tell you. Just don’t stand there like a fool. I have something to find.”

Finally.

“The concept of the Spiral was created in the haze of insanity,” Kudako began, pushing against a fallen stone next to a half-melted structure. “The Chieftain who first led the forest Clans to unity was a tactical genius at warfare. But looking back on it, I’m convinced that he was absolutely mad.”

“Then why did anyone follow him?” Zento frowned. Seeing that the Dragon wanted to rock moved, he leaned down to lend a hand.

“The forest people were very primitive in those days. Survival against the wilderness and other rival Clans was all that mattered. They couldn’t recognize the madness. Or they simply didn’t care.” Pulling the stone away revealed a tilted, nearly rectangular entrance. The Dragon murmured to himself, “Ah… here we are.”

“So this guy comes along and wows them all, yeah?” Zento made sure to keep the conversation on track.

“His timing was perfect. It corresponded with the finding of the Spirit Lion,” Kudako explained, squinting into the gloom below. “After the Lion gave his warning about the coming of the Dragons, that’s when the Chieftain began to have his Visions. Speaking of which, how about some light?”

“Voices in the head… never a good sign,” Zento clicked his tongue. He lifted one hand, a small sphere of blue flame building within his palm, casting a pale light ahead of them. It seemed to be some sort of room.

“It was more than just voices,” the Dragon frowned, running his fingers along the side of the wall as if looking for something. When he found nothing he nodded and moved forward. “His visions became a prophecy which detailed the impending doom of the forest people. He talked about how ‘a man of the white-haired clan’ would descend upon us ‘with the wings of the north wind.’ And how this man would ‘cleave apart our nation’ and ‘rip from us the heart’, leaving our people ‘scattered in fear for our enemies to destroy’.”

“I see where this is going…” the winged man sighed, following closely. The room had looked small from the outside, but now it had opened into a passage that led deeper down underground. The blue flame was almost not enough to keep the gloom illuminated. “Prophecy of doom. White haired people from the north. Add that to the Dragon threat. And you’ve got the Hunt that nearly destroyed my ancestors.”

“Yes, and the reason for the creation of Annihilators.”

“I getcha. But why did he choose my people?”

“That’s something I really don’t know, Zento,” Kudako told him with a slow shake of his head. “Simply madness could have pieced together some deranged dream perhaps? If only that was where the story ended.”

“You got more for me?” Zento frowned, scratching his nose. There was a lot of soot down there.

“You wanted to know,” the Dragon pressed his hands against what looked to have once been a wooden door.

“Yeah, I did. Go ahead.”

Kudako pushed his shoulder against it with a grunt. The door was not budging. “The Spiral was terribly dismayed when the people from the north escaped with Lord Zemi’s help and were safe in the Inner Realms. The Chieftain decided that the only way the Spiral was to survive against the terrible prophecy was if they created a society of perfect warriors.”

“Man, this guy had some issues… He really thought everyone was out to get him?” Zento stepped forward, raising his hands. The flame’s light grew stronger as he did. “Here, let me give it a shot.”

“Be careful. This place isn’t too sturdy,” Kudako warned, stepping back as the flame leapt from the winged man’s hands, bursting against the old wood. “Issues or not… the people believed him. That’s when things began to get out of hand. Because the Chieftain’s idea of the perfect warrior was one that could kill on command, no matter the situation.”

“Yeah, well, people don’t work that way. That’s what I was trying to say earlier,” Zento argued softly. The door was giving way, but it had taken more effort than he had thought it would. “You can’t deny feelings of right and wrong. It’s just the nature of people.”

“Tell me what happens when that nature is removed,” the Dragon’s eyes reflected strangely in the light of the blue flame.

“What do you mean?” The wood gave a final crack and buckled inward, leaving a space just large enough for them to pass through.

“Feelings of right and wrong,” Kudako murmured, waving his hand in front of his face to clear away the smoke. “That’s exactly what the Chieftain was thinking. And that’s why these people no longer have a soul.”

“‘Dako, you don’t just take away someone’s soul. It doesn’t work like that.” Zento stuck his hand in, lighting the next chamber. One small room. He could only wonder what it was Kudako was after down there.

“Maybe not literally. But they have come close enough,” the Dragon carefully stepped over the remains of the shattered doorway. Again, he ran his hand along side the wall. “The Chieftain’s alchemists developed some sort of Implant – beyond the name, I don’t even really know what it is. I do know that ultimately, it is used to take away a person’s emotions. And though it is not a mind controlling device, it seems to leave people susceptible to the commands of the Armsmaster of the Spiral.”

“Woah, there,” Zento paused, peering around. “Are you meaning to tell me that those people back there couldn’t feel a thing? That kid sure looked scared enough to me.”

“The boy, yes. He could feel. He would have gotten his Implant upon successfully finishing the task,” Kudako’s eyes were studying the wall intently. Other than a few discarded lumps, there didn’t seem to be anything else in the room.

“If they want the kid to become a warrior, why not give it to him before then… I mean… if the Implant makes them a ‘perfect’ fighter?” Zento frowned.

Kudako finally knelt down, feeling along the base of the floor. “No. A boy must complete the task by natural means. Only when he overcomes his own fears does he prove himself worthy.”

“Sure makes a lot of sense to me.” Sarcasm ran rampant.

“I never said it made sense,” Kudako murmured, beginning to pry at a crack along the floor.

“So it’s the Implants that take people’s… um…”

“Souls.”

“Feelings.”

“Souls,” Kudako repeated, seeming engrossed in the floor. “And yes.”

“Why didn’t someone just take the Implant out then?” Zento frowned, holding the light closer to give better light.

“Because, for the most part, people of the Spiral believe that the lack of emotion leads to perfection. Besides, no one except the Armsmaster knows how to safely manipulate the Implants,” the Dragon gave a groan as he lifted, the sound of stone shifting under his fingers.

Zento froze with a sudden thought. “What… about you, ‘Dako…?”

“What about me?” he motioned for the light to come closer to the newly-opened hole in the floor.

“Did you… get one of these Implants?” he swallowed.

Is that why Kudako is always so…

The Dragon peered up. “I was an Annihilator. I was from a clan that was bred to kill. Unlike other boys, I was fitted with an Implant shortly after I was born.”

“You mean… you never… you never felt anything growing up?” Something about it left him almost numb inside. Then a welling of sorrow.

“Can I get some light, Zento?” the Dragon evaded answering.

“‘Dako..?” the winged man’s face was etched in concern. “Did you?”

Kudako took a deep breath in. “No, I did not. But I knew nothing different.”

“What about now?”

“Now?”

“Do you feel things now?” Zento slowly brought the light forward.

The Dragon tilted his head. Ever so slightly, he gave a soft, thin-lipped smile. “You tell me.”

He watched as Kudako reached down and pulled a small metal box up from the narrow gap in the floor. Somehow, the Dragon knew what points to touch for the latches to open. Then he withdrew a short cylinder of plain black metal.

“What are you doing, ‘Dako?” Zento finally ventured to ask.

“I’m getting ready to meet with the Armsmaster of the Spiral,” Kudako rose to his feet slowly, looking at the strange treasure with a pleased expression. He gripped it between both hands, holding it at length in front of his body. “His name is UragiRu. He is the descendant of the Chieftain. And as I said, it is only those in the line of the Chieftain that know how to place the Implants.”

“So if you take him out…?”

“I will break that line of command,” Kudako nodded grimly. “There will be no one left to steal souls. And I will avenge the murder of my own clan.”

Zento squinted. “I was meaning to ask about that…”

The cylinder had begun to change, now that it was within Kudako’s hands. With a soft hissing sound, it lengthened on either side shifting like molten metal. As Zento watched, the innocent looking cylinder became a peculiar black-bladed battle staff.

“Woah… nice. You knew this was here?” the winged man blinked up.

“Yes. This weapon belonged to my ancestors,” Kudako’s eyes glinted with a strange light. “This was the place where I grew up. I lived here before UragiRu hunted down my clan and destroyed this place… my home outpost. And now, he will come to attempt to finish the deed. I am the last of the Re clan.”

“He knows you’re here?”

“It is not hard to figure that out. Why do you think I sent him a challenge? He will come. And we will finally end this,” a slow, vicious curve drew back his lips until the tips of his fangs showed.

Within that moment, there was no doubt that Kudako was a creature capable of feeling. His expression alone was enough to send chills over Zento’s body.

“If you will let me, I will guide you through this.”

The whole thing reeked like one big set up. And it had really put ZenToYa out on the edge.

Am I just expected to be used to this sort of thing by now?

After all, Zento’s whole life had been shaped and steered in the direction that the Dreigiau felt was most beneficial to their world. From the moment that he had stepped into Zemi’s cave, Zento had been the chosen one – the one to carry out the plans, establish the great civilizations and teach the mystical powers of unknown to his people. And ultimately, he became a legend.

But sometimes… just sometimes… I can’t help but wonder if Zemi has it as much under control as he’d like us all to believe.

The Dreigiau had been right about a lot of things. Many blessings came to Zento’s life with the founding of Nefol. He had fallen in love with YuKai. Together, they had two sons that he had absolutely adored. Though balancing his roles of father and husband with the legendary name of ZenToYa wasn’t the easiest thing, he always believed he had given it his best shot.

I think I’ve done well enough for myself and the boys. Under the circumstances we’ve been given, at least.

Zemi had been dreadfully wrong about other things. The first Awakening, Zento’s own, had not been embraced by the people of Nefol. Maybe it would have been different if Zento had understood the transformation that had fallen upon him. Or maybe it was that the Council in Nefol was looking for any excuse they could find to knock Zento out of power… and would have never listened, no matter what.

Whatever the case, my life was shattered into a million pieces.

And the Dreigiau had remained frustratingly passive about the whole deal. It wasn’t that Zemi had been particularly cruel. But he certainly did not have the understanding to comprehend the pain that Zento had endured in becoming an outcast to his own city.

I lost my home, my family, my position… my everything. I had no idea what I had become after my Awakening. I couldn’t even get near the Host Gate to seek Zemi’s guidance. If it wasn’t for Kudako and SaRa…

Things could have been done differently. And that thought brought the picture up to that very moment.

Again, a lot of stuff going on. Very little that I’ve been told about. Zemi and I are gonna have a knock-down when I get a hold of him.

Especially with Tsu’s health on the line. That was one of the biggest points that rubbed Zento raw.

I’ve abandoned my boys once already for Zemi’s wild plans. I refuse to do it again.

Kudako had urged Zento to trust in Zemi’s wisdom on the matter. But it was hard to do when he could sense so many ulterior motives in the mix.

“I swear, if this was a waste of my time… and a risk to Tsu…” he muttered to himself.

“Then what?” the familiar gritty voice sounded out behind him.

Zento swerved on one heel, staring. “Z… Zemi?”

As if having been summoned by Zento’s thoughts alone, the Dreigiau sat crouched on an overhanging stack of stone. How Zemi had come to be there was not impossible, but unknown. Zento had forgotten that the Arweinydd could now move so freely through their world.

“You have something to say to me, yes?” Zemi dropped lightly down to the ground, standing immeasurably tall in comparison to Zento. There was no hint as to what the Dreigiau was thinking.

“How could you tell?” the winged man winced as the words came out more sarcastic sounding than he meant them to.

Zemi remained unmoved. As if he had expected hostility and was already well-armored against anything Zento might throw at him.

After a moment of peering up at the Dreigiau, the winged man waved a hand forward. “Zemi, can I be blunt about this?”

“Go ahead… that’s what I’m here for,” came the answer.

“I want to know exactly what you sent me out here to do,” Zento pointed sharply with one finger. “Not what you wanted me to think you were sending me out here to do. But what in the name of the Seven Universes that you had in your head when you ‘suggested’ to Kudako that we come out here.”

“In other words, spill it all?” Zemi gave him a droll look.

Zento crossed his arms, “You know something? The problem here is… there shouldn’t be anything that needs spilling. It really bothers me to think that here I am, ZenToYa, supposed to be your so-called champion and the builder of your civilization… yet you cannot spend the time to tell me exactly what it is you’re sending me out to do.”

“There are many layers of things happening here, Zento,” the reply was careful and calm. “Some things began long before you were born… some even possibly at the beginning of an age in which none of us existed.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re flying by the seat of your pants?” he grumbled, spreading his hands at the Dreigiau.

“No. I’m telling you that you don’t know the whole story about why you don’t know the whole story,” Zemi gave a heavy sigh.

Zento was quiet for a moment before he faced the Dreigiau again, face flushing with smoldering frustration. “Tell me this. Am I here to find a cure for Tsu? Or am I wasting his precious time doing something that has nothing to do with him?”

“The truth?”

“Yes.”

“I honestly believe that the cure for TsuYa can be found in the power of the creature that is contained in the center of the Spiral,” Zemi nodded slowly. “This is part of what I came here to tell you — whatever you do, you must capture this creature alive. If it expires before I have a chance to Link with it, then both you and I have lost out on the very thing that we seek here.”

“Link with it?” the winged man squinted at the Dreigiau. “What are you planning to do with this thing?”

“Sustain it,” the Arweinydd answered, pressing his lips together.

“You mean…”

“Over the decades, I have watched its power significantly dwindle. I do not think that it has much time left in this world. I do believe it is a one-of-a-kind being. To lose it and the knowledge it holds about the ages that came before our own… would be a terrible shame,” Zemi explained with a soft look. “I don’t want to kill it, Zento. I want to preserve it.”

“Then why don’t you go in and fight against it?” Zento frowned, planting his hands on his hips.

“Well, that wouldn’t fit the prophecies that the people of the Spiral have feared for so long, now would it?” the Dreigiau grinned.

There he goes joking again. There’s something more behind this. He’s not budging on it, though.

“And you think this creature can help cure Tsu?”

“Yes, I think so.” Zemi’s expression turned gently somber, “Do you really think I have so little care for your sons, Zento?”

“Do you really want to know what I think, Zemi?” The winged man didn’t pause. He just let it all out in a long breath of exasperation, “I think that you have no way to understand the concept of being a father… therefore you can’t even begin to understand the hell I’m going through right now. Jerking me around when Tsu’s life could be in danger is not cool, Zemi!”

“That… was never what I intended to do,” the Dreigiau’s face froze, stunned and hurt at the stinging reproach.

Zento’s mouth opened, as if to follow up with another torrent of resentment. But a glance at the forlorn expression of the Arweinydd shook him, his senses focusing in on something that he had overlooked due to his own frustrations.

Something’s… wrong with Zemi…?

“I…” Zento found himself floundering. He suddenly felt like the nasty man who had just kicked the sick puppy for attempting to bring in morning newspaper. And he didn’t know why. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

“No,” Zemi’s voice was husky with grief, “I deserved it. I know what this must look like. That’s why I’m here right now, Zento.”

“What’s going on, Zemi?” the winged man asked, finding his calm returning. He didn’t think that the Dreigiau would tell him everything. But at the least, he wanted to cue Zemi in on the fact that he knew something wasn’t right.

“I’ll talk to you about my situation later,” Zemi assured him with a wave of one hand. “Right now, I want to concentrate on filling all my promises.”

“What promises? To whom?”

“To you… to Kudako… and to TsuYa,” he answered, his eyes spending a moment to survey the horizon. Deep in thought. “As I said, there are a lot of things going on here. It goes very deep. Especially with Kudako – there are things that he must do here for his own sake. So that he has a chance to finally move on.”

Zento’s eyes lowered. Remembering the stories that Kudako had told him of the past in the Spiral, all accusation flooded out of him. It was easy to see how these things matched up when compared to the words and actions of the Dreigiau. And how Zemi was doing what he could to try to help them all.

Why did I have to go and say things like that… talking out of my nose? Not even thinking… not even trying to make any sense of it all.

He suddenly he felt extremely brash. As if there was nothing he could think to say to make up for his outburst.

“ZenToYa… there is no shame in fighting for your family.” Zemi’s eyes glittered, as if he could sense the winged man’s struggle. There was a soothing gentleness in his words, “Maybe you’re right… I don’t know what it is like to be a father. But I do know how I would feel if anything should happen to you or your children. That might well be the closest I’ll ever get to it, but it’s something, yes?”

Strange warmth tingled throughout his body — a feeling Zento had felt long ago, when he was just a boy living in the Dreigiau’s cave, so young and so unaware of the bigness of it all. A boy only knowing that the strange Dragon Spirit watched over them. A boy wanting to believe that this otherworldly creature felt some sort of love for the two orphaned children that were saved from the snow.

And now he had grown to know Zemi better over the long years. To know that the Dreigiau did his best to take care of his people. That he tried to love despite the fact that love was a thing so foreign to the Arweinydd kind.

“Yes, Zemi,” Zento reassured him, trying to sound apologetic. “You’ve always been very good to SaRa and I. And that counts for a lot. I’m just… really scared for my sons…”

“Don’t be afraid,” Zemi’s voice had reclaimed its usual strength once more. His hand stretched forward, an offering motion. “If you will let me, I will guide you through this.”

Guide me…?

After a moment of thought, Zento reached out to meet Zemi’s hand with his own. A small white stone dropped into his palm. Familiar. Soothing to the touch. The Arfogaeth.

My armor!?

“What? How did you get this?” Zento stared at the stone in surprise. He pulled out the amulet that he kept hung around his neck, only to see that the spot where the stone should have been was indeed empty.

I could have sworn I had it! How is it in all this time I didn’t check?

“I thought you would need it,” the Dreigiau grinned quietly. “Unless you consider yourself a warrior so good as to have no need for armor, now?”

“No… no, I need it. Espcially if I’m going up against some time-backwards creature,” Zento grimaced, putting the stone in its place. “I don’t know how I managed to leave that behind.”

“You’ve been preoccupied about Tsu,” Zemi pointed out. “It happens to the best of us, sometimes.”

“Surely not to you?” his tone was jesting, but the Dreigiau didn’t seem to take it that way.

“Yes… even to me,” there was discouragement in his tone. Something so rare to see in Zemi that it left chills on the skin.

Searching for any bit of support he could give, Zento encouraged, “Guide me, then, Dreigiau. I’ll follow your lead.”

The Arweinydd’s demeanor perked up at the statement. He nodded slowly, a slight fangy grin spreading over his face. “Put your armor on, I’ll give the Dragons the signal… and we’ll get this party started.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Zento grinned in return.

“The Annihilation of the Spiral has begun.”

-They steal souls, Kudako. Suck the heart right out of people. Then, they send the shells of men out on the battlefield. All in the name of their idea of perfection…-

His brother’s words haunted him here, in the homelands of his ancestors. The sound of the voice had faded in Kudako’s memory with the passage of centuries. But time had not diminished the meaning of those parting words.

-What they have done to you is wrong, Kudako. And they will pay for it.-

Instead, the passage of time had lifted the fog within his mind. And now understanding burned strongly, spreading like a fever throughout Kudako’s body.

-The whole concept of the Spiral is completely wicked. Everything that is done to our people goes against nature itself.-

Crouching silently upon the knotted branches of a blackened tree, the Dragon waited. He knew his challenge would be met in battle by the Armsmaster. Pride would not allow such a thing to go unanswered.

-I know you cannot understand that yet. I know that you cannot feel what it is I’m trying to express to you, Kudako.-

The Armsmaster would come. For Kudako was the last of the Re Clan. All of his people had died there upon the dark day that Clan rose against Clan in the Spiral. The day that his brother set his hand to action… the day that the Re Clan turned in rebellious uprising against the Armsmaster.

-I can only fight so that one day you… and our family can be free.-

Kudako could not remember why he was not one of the men that took part of that battle. He might have been out on one of his training expeditions. All he could remember was what he found when he returned home. His Clan’s homelands — ripped and scorched from border to border. Bodies were piled and scattered – men, women and children alike — left to bloat and melt under the merciless sun.

He had stood, simply peering over the destruction. For sorrow was as alien to him as any other emotion – the Implant did not allow Kudako to weep or mourn. And for the first time, something buried deep within his primal senses told him that the lack of emotional reaction… was wrong.

Though centuries had passed, the landscape of his homelands had changed very little. Nothing grew there nor dared to take up residence over the scorched grounds. It was likely that no member of the Spiral had set foot upon the darkened earth until now.

Kudako had returned to his homeland. And still, he found that he could not weep.

Instead, there was a building pressure within him, hot like flame.  The taste of sweat and tension filled his mouth. For this was what Lord Zemi had promised Kudako upon his return – a chance at vengeance for the Annihilation of his people. Vengeance for the souls lost to the Spiral.

While Lord Zemi and Zento had continued on to the Keep to begin their encounter with the golden Lion, Kudako had remained there, alone. Upon the ruins of his homeland, the Dragon waited for the hour of his retribution to be fulfilled. Kudako did not have to wait long.

“I am here,” a guttural voice growled from below, like one struggling with the sounds in his throat. “Come show yourself.”

At the sensation of an approach, Kudako stirred from where he was hidden among the branches of the heavy-leaning tree. Feet balanced perfectly upon the thick bark, his golden eyes watched as his adversary strode underneath. Not even the wisp of his breath sounded in the air. All was perfectly still. All was composed and ready.

He had arrived. UragiRu, the Armsmaster.

The one that lead the battle to wipe away the last traces of the remaining Re Clan. The one who had spread his banners over the Spiral, claiming to be the next Armsmaster in the bloodline of Chieftains. Even the mark of insanity was there, having passed like poison through the generations.

Today, it would end. The prophecy, be it real or simply delusional, would be fulfilled. The boy that Kudako had trained, ZenToYa — now fully grown into his power, would rise up and strike the Spiral a fatal blow. And the soulless nation would fall into dust.

But Kudako made sure to claim UragiRu. His final vengeance would be carried out by his own hand. For all the blood that he had spilt upon the innocent lands of the Inner Realms, one last death would repay them all.

With the passing of the Armsmaster, the knowledge of the Implants would also pass. The Annihilators could never be created again. Kudako would make sure of it.

UragiRu, the Armsmaster. He was unremarkable in physical stature. Of normal height, a wiry build that belied what strength he might have had. But the years had begun to touch him – he had been quite young in the days of the destruction of the Re Clan.

However, time had done nothing to touch Kudako. Time had been his friend in non-passage, at Lord Zemi’s will. Another advantage that the Dragon would hold over the soon-to-be-lifeless body of his enemy.

The Armsmaster appeared to carry himself without fear. But it was a ruse. Kudako had learned from Lord Zemi that the very Implants that the people of the Spiral were forced to take… the Armsmaster himself did not. Therefore, one had to wonder about the virtue of the very thing that made the warriors “perfect”, without emotional blemish, if the leader of the nation did not choose to be like his own people.

The Dragon’s fingers tightened upon the grip of the dual bladed staff. The smear of blackness upon the ground made it easy for Kudako to pick out his target. The shaggy yellow hair of the Armsmaster was unkempt, beginning to grey with age. The various braids and attachments of his position seemed unwashed and matted. The armor that he wore creaked in a sound that spoke of little current use.

UragiRu, once full of the fires of youth, had grown careless and soft in his elder years. He must not have thought that any enemies of his past still lived. Had he remained cushioned in his fine home as the young warriors of the nation laid down their lives for the sake of his imagined perfection? It certainly seemed so.

All this Kudako could sense, peering down upon his enemy from the tree. Soon, it would be over. The dance of death and the final dirge. UragiRu would die upon the blackened grounds of the very people he sought to slay to the last.

Vengeance.

The Dragon dropped from the tree, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. A crouch, motion of silence, the dual blades flashing in the light of the shifting sun.

A distant explosion, flame light burst upon the horizon, coloring the bottom of the clouds blood red. Then another. And another. The Dragons had come, striking down the distant ring of outposts in deadly flame. Just as Lord Zemi said they would.

“The Annihilation of the Spiral has begun,” Kudako spoke, his voice flat.

UragiRu turned on his heel, a battle stance. His hands gripped at the hilt of his blades for comfort. It was obvious that he did not recognize Kudako. Not as Kudako had now become, a Flawed Dragon. But he would know soon.

“What is your interest here?” UragiRu’s thick voice demanded in a piggish way.

“Your blood,” Kudako obliged in a light tone.

Then the Dragon took one step back, a measured motion of pure balance. The weapon spun effortlessly between his hands, his crouch sliding into the circle of desolation that was marked upon the ground. Nothing would leave the circle alive.

“KudakoRe is dead,” UragiRu told him.

“No. He is not.”

“Then, KudakoRe has sent a hireling in his place,” UragiRu demanded.

“No. He has not.”

“Where is the one that challenges me?” UragiRu’s voice rose. There was an edge of a squeal upon it. The dawning of fear.

“He stands before you,” the Dragon held his weapon still, point leveled, golden eyes meeting the pale blue of his adversary. “I am KudakoRe.”

UragiRu took an involuntary step back. “You have been turned into a monster!”

“No. I have not,” Kudako began to advance, slowly. Deliberate. “I have been turned from living as one.”

“You bear the likeness of an animal!” UragiRu hissed, hands clasping the blades, readying for battle.

“And because of it, I sense your fear, UragiRu,” the Dragon’s voice grew deep.

“Impossible!”

“I know your secret,” his face had grown dangerous. “You turn the people soulless while you, retain emotion. Your false ‘perfection’ is a blemish. I have come to wipe the stain from my Clan’s name.”

“That stain of rebellion and shame can never be cleansed,” UragiRu growled, fighting to regain his composure. “Your brother wished to overthrow the Spiral and take control for himself. And you follow in his footsteps!”

“Wrong,” the Dragon’s graceful steps becoming more menacing the closer he came. “My brother fought for the freedom of our people. Just as I do.”

“He sought to destroy the very thing that has kept our nation protected and in peace,” came the gruff argument. “Our people seek perfection. And that requires sacrifice!”

“How would you know what our people want… they have never had the choice to speak freely for themselves!” Kudako retorted quietly. He lifted his blade, leveling it at his adversary in one practiced motion.

No more talk. The battle would begin.

Silence. Silence of the dead. UragiRu could see it reflected in the beastly depths of the Dragon’s eyes. And yet, he raised his weapons. The Armsmaster made a charge.

Kudako sprang to life, a death-dance design traced over the blackened ground. To his eyes, his enemy’s blades came slowly. It was nothing to dodge, duck, slip under the desperate swings of a man long-lost to the practice of the art of killing. It was almost disappointing.

Almost.

The only joy that could be found in this worthless battle was in fear. UragiRu would fear.

He would fear as much as the collective, countless souls that fell to the blade of the Annihilator. For each young warrior that failed the Test in the quest to perfection only to face his own bloodspill. For the loss of mercy and the rise of tyranny brought by a prophesy borne from the chambers of a maddened mind.

He would fear this much, and more.

Kudako’s weapon whistled high through the air. Quick, light slices. Marks of red began to appear across his enemy’s armor – too old and light to bear up against the onslaught of true vengeance. Fear began to rise. He could sense it, the odor thick in the air. Taste the bitter sweat mingled with the thick, smoky air.

UragiRu knew there was nothing left to him. Still, his pride would not allow him to surrender. Nor would Kudako’s vengeance allow such a thing.

Rivets of red flowed freely. Only a taste of the final demise. UragiRu stumbled back against the heavy tree, senses overcome by the tempest of terror ripping him from every side.

The sight of blood was intoxicating. No emotion left, falling back into what he had once been, Kudako only longed to see more. More. Just as he, the Annihilator, was created to desire. If such a thing as himself could desire anything at all.

The bladed staff lifted, a forward thrust of full strength, pinning UragiRu through one shoulder into the tree. The crack of brittling bone under ruthless Dragon strength. A shriek, nothing more than the madness of pain.

The blade twisted slowly, pulled back and thrust again. Into the opposite shoulder, this time drawing a slice diagonal, through the chest cavity. The wet sound of things inside bursting. Froth of blood coming from UragiRu’s mouth, streaming down his chin.

The Armsmaster could do nothing more than stare. Pale blue eyes locked in horror at the crimson-stained blade as it withdrew from his body, pulling with it things that were never meant to touch open air. His limbs spasmed, legs buckling under him.

The blade thrust again. Into the throat. Shattering the jaw. Ripping the last of the air from the bloodied mouth. A twisting slash let the head roll free. The staff swung around for a final blow and pinned the slumping body to the tree with the opposite side of the blade.

Stillness.

A pool of red crept across the ground, mingling with the black ash. The flames on the horizon had grown in size, the sky bursting in crimson, reflected in the thickening streams of blood.

The Armsmaster was dead. The price of freedom, won. The people of the Spiral would not understand the gift they had been given, he was certain. Not until generations had passed and the teachings of the Chieftain had faded into the haze of diluted memory.

The Clan of Re was avenged.

Yet, in the pooling of red Kudako found no solace – did he really search for such a thing? And if he did, when had that search begun?

Perhaps he had thought that upon the death of UragiRu something extraordinary should have happened. That the world would know of the passing of tyranny through some wondrous supernatural display or vast fanfare.

Yet there was nothing. The lifeless body of UragiRu slumped unceremoniously on the end of the blade, like any other. And soon it would decay away like any other.

In that haze of drifting smoke, Kudako saw the image of his homelands broken and burned away. In his memory, he saw the piled bodies of his Clan’s people laying defeated, left under the sky to rot. The distant buzz of his brother’s words faded in and out of his mind’s ear. And vengeance for these wrongs had been earned, yet…

It was not victory that Kudako felt. It was something else. Something that he could not find the words to describe. Something intolerably lonely and cold. Not at all the way one should feel upon winning back the honor of one’s Clan.

For the first time ever, KudakoRe turned his back to the battlesite. He sought refuge in the silent vitality of the forest.

“Great Lord Aur... Mighty Golden Lion! Please bestow your favor upon your people!

“You cannot be here!” a woman’s high-pitched voice squealed. Like fingernails on slate.

Zento couldn’t help but wince, stopping his advance more because of the ear-shattering sound rather than the demand itself. Shoulders back, hair tied away from his face in a battle-knot, bhinod ready at hand – the warrior stood his position firmly at the top of the gold-stone stairs. He didn’t even blink when a dozen flaxen-haired guards rushed from their watch, ringing around the woman and mounting the platform that led to her dais.
The structures here were unlike the crude war-towers that Zento had seen back in the forests. Tall, step-pyramids rose to the sky, their golden faces inlaid with glittering stones which painted multi-hued spirals to reflect in the sun. The forest hugged the edges of the structures, ancient trees waving over them all with strange lilac foliage.

Zento’s own goal was an ornate arched doorway etched into the far wall. Behind the group of armed men.

And behind ZenToYa stood the Dreigiau.

True to his word, Zemi had guided the warrior to the heart of the Spiral. Through the chaos and pillars of flaming war towers, the Dreigiau and his Champion had forged a path to the great Lion’s Keep.

The Dragons had descended along side of them, their multi-hued jets of flame scorching down from the sky. One by one, the outposts of the Spiral burst, the warriors scattering under the onslaught. They had no way to fight simultaneous aerial attacks, especially not ones as devastating as a fleet of Dragons.

However, their orders from Zemi were not to kill… rather to bring down the towers and cause diversion. The Dragons were to keep the Spiral warriors busy at their own outposts so that Zemi and Zento might slip through to the center with as little fighting as possible. Despite the fact that Kudako had spoken of the “destruction of the Spiral”, Zemi seemed to be going out of his way to avoid loss of life and conflict where he could.

So to see what looked to be arrogance upon the face of the woman as they drew near, in the midst of the obvious downfall of the nation, came as absurd. Head held high, hair adorn by flashes of exotic gems and strangely colored weaves, she was dressed in a light, flowing robe of ornate design. Her hands were folded in front of her, face giving no hint of concern at the two enemies that stood at the foot of the stair. Her eyes were both piercingly blue and hauntingly vacant.

Who is she, Zemi?

The Dreigiau’s heavy step paused just at Zento’s right shoulder. An answer came, his voice resounding within the warrior’s mind.

-She is SugiRu, sister to UragiRu. She’s spent the last few centuries deceiving the people of the Spiral by telling them that she’s a Speaker, a person who communicates directly with the One from the Time Before.-

Is that so…

-No doubt, it’s part of the way that she and her brother took power over the Spiral. Claiming to know the will of the Golden Lion is hardly a little thing around here.-

Claiming?

-Yeah. It’s all just a big scam. I doubt the creature even has the power to waste on communicating to anyone at this point. And if it did, I don’t see why it would only appear to one chosen individual in order to speak to the entire nation. That’s just not the way it’s done.-

Zento’s eyes narrowed.

Then they’ve been lying through their teeth to these people, telling them they have some sort of orders sent down from this golden lion?

-More or less, yes.-

Gotcha. So, have you cooked up a battle plan for this?

-Nah. Let’s see what happens. It’s sure to be interesting.-

“Interesting…” Zento made an indelicate sound. Then without a trace of concern upon his face, he strode forward, towards the stairway.

“I said, you cannot be here!” SugiRu’s voice screeched up a notch. She lifted a hand in an imperial gesture.

A gesture which Zento ignored.

You shoulda given me something to protect my ears…

-I plan on taking care of the noise pollution shortly.-

Get with it then, Zemi. The sooner the better.

“Stop the white-hair! Do not let him defile the grounds!” her voice redoubled in intensity.

The men moved forward, a fluid wave of jingling weapons and rustic armor. Zento stood unflinching as the rival blades swung out. The flaxen-haired men lashed forward with a sweeping battle cry.

A ripple of scattered light bent the air like a heat mirage. An unexpected wall rose between the flurried charge and the unmoving winged man. Mere feet away, the entire brigade buckled, crumpled then collapsed upon the ground.

“Heh… heh… heh…” a deep, gravelly chuckle came from behind.

Turning over one shoulder, Zento could see the amused, fangy grin pasted to the Dreigiau’s face. Zemi’s hand was still raised, the aftermath of magic lingering around him.

SugiRu took a step back. No doubt, she was realizing things were not going as planned. Maybe even having second thoughts.

“Good afternoon, SugiRu,” Zemi stepped forward casually, striding over one of the fallen men on the ground. His grin remained, though it was now hard to tell if it was gracious or predatory.

“Who do you think you are?!” she demanded, backing away further.

“I am Zemi Dreigiau,” he answered simply.

Her breath visibly caught in her throat. She looked like she was about to melt right there. After a moment, she hissed, “Impossible!”

Zemi didn’t miss a beat. He waved a hand back towards Zento, “And this is the one who was foretold to bring destruction.”

Zento grimaced.

The One Who Was Foretold to Bring Destruction? How unoriginal can you get, Zemi?

-People seem to like melodrama around here. Just trying to fit in.-

Yeah, well, if that name sticks, I’m going to blame you.

At this point, SugiRu seemed to have totally lost it. Her voice rose in an unending stream of shriek, “You cannot enter into the grand Keep of Aur! You and all Dragonkind will be struck down upon touching the sacred grounds! The Golden Lion will protect his Speaker and his Warriors! There will be no–”

Zemi’s deep voice rose above the harpy-tempest, booming in demand, “If that is true, let me see proof that your Patron Guide… this Aur… protects you! Tell him to revive your warriors! Tell him to show his support, if he really claims you as his people!”

Stunned silence fell over the Speaker.

Zemi –  thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

-Don’t mention it.-

“Well?” the Dreigiau watched the woman shrewdly. “Let’s see it?”

SugiRu ran her tongue over her lips, then lifted both hands to the sky, entreating in a quavering voice, “Great Lord Aur… Mighty Golden Lion! Please bestow your favor upon your people! Strike against the insolence of the Dreigiau who has come to raid our lands! Show him your might!”

Zento peered over at Zemi.

If someone called for you like that, would you answer it?

-A little ego stroking never hurt. You should try it sometime.-

The winged man sighed, leaning back on one foot, waiting for the inevitable.

Her raised hands were greeted with silence. Lifted face stared into the nothingness of the sky. A slow trickle of sweat made its way down the side of her cheek, a blemish on the imperial grandeur.

The Spiral guards had gathered their senses and turned with all confidence to watch the power of their honored Speaker at work. Her upraised hands began to tremble.

“Oh, Mighty Lord Aur!” she beckoned to the silence a second time. “Give us the strength to overcome your most despised enemy! Bring us the power to conquer the Dreigiau!”

Again, there only came silence from the smoke-smeared sky. This was only broken by the sound of armor jingling as the Spiral warriors began to shift and peer between themselves.

“Well… no one seems to be home,” Zemi spoke after a while.

“No…” her voice was shaken. Unthroned. Her eyes settled upon the Dreigiau as one who could see her own end.

“The Golden Lion did not come,” one of the Spiral guards murmured. A murmur that began to echo through the rest of the men.

“Why would he want to? All you’ve ever done is murder and lie in his name. You think that’s what any Guide in his right mind wants to be known for?” Zemi snorted.

SugiRu shook her head as she stared down at the Spiral warriors. Absolute desperation written across her face, “It is a trick of the Dreigiau! His presence is keeping my words from reaching Lord Aur! He must be–”

“Give it a rest, already,” Zemi muttered. “How long do you think you can keep these people fooled by your trickery?”

She looked about ready to protest further, but a motion from the Arweinydd’s hand cut her voice short. The false Speaker gasped, struggling as the air around her invisibly condensed, reaching about her waist and arms and binding her fast.

Zemi’s voice sounded in Zento’s mind once more, pulling his attention away from the defeated woman. The winged man turned his eyes upward.

-You ready?-

Ready?

-To go inside the Keep?-

You’re not coming with me?

Zento squinted over at the Dreigiau in surprise. Zemi turned his head, peering the other way. He didn’t look happy.

-No…-

You’ve got to be kidding me! What happened to the whole ‘being my guide’ thing?

-I’d go in if I could. You better believe this bothers me as much as it bothers you. But the whole place is rigged and warded against me and any that bear the signature of my energies. Which includes all of my Dragons. That’s why I need you to do this for me, Zento.-

I thought you said the creature doesn’t have any power left?

-The wards were placed long ago, back when he still had some strength to him. I’ve tested the bounds of the magic in this Keep as we’ve been standing here. For me to fight these wards, power on power… it could result in a very nasty backlash of energy. No telling what something like that will do.-

So then, the plan is…?

Zento shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable in the weight of his sudden assignment.

-You must go inside the Keep and disarm the wards. Only then will I be able to come in and claim this… Aur-creature, as SugiRu calls him.-

You’re saying I’m gonna be in there, one on one with this creature? What if the Golden Lion is real? What if it’s anything like you? I’m supposed to be able to fight this thing?

-Zento, I really don’t know what to expect once you get in there. But we’ve got to try to capture it. Remember… this is for Tsu.-

The winged man froze as the words registering, echoing in his mind. Head lowering slowly, his hand gripped the familiar haft of his weapon. His face grew grim as his green eyes focused sharply on the doorway.

“Yeah… For Tsu,” he found himself echoing. Then he took a step forward.

“Zento…” Zemi’s voice held a hint of plaintive concern. He lifted one hand, then dropped it to his side, seeming unable to find the words to match his feelings. But the worried affection that vibrated in the single word spoke all that needed to be said.

Driven by the determination of a devoted father, ZenToYa climbed the stairs, striding past the shaken form of SugiRu. With a single glance back at the Arweinydd, the warrior entered the Keep of the Golden Lion.

Up close, Zento could see this was certainly no lion... but that was the closest word that could describe it.

Zento could hear the hollow sound of his breath expanding and contracting around him in the narrow corridor. No matter what he did, he couldn’t make the sound any less nervous. No matter how firm his footsteps sounded as he strode toward the lit archway, he couldn’t ease the thundering of his heart.

I must be getting old…

It was the first time he had ever considered it. And maybe it was true. In his younger days, such an encounter would have been met with excitement and eagerness. But now, with the future of his son on the line, Zento could find nothing but a welling of trepidation.

So much for the great warrior ZenToYa.

No noise came from the golden room ahead. That fact alone bothered him more than any living sound could have. Zento realized that his bhinod was out in one hand.

Kudako would have my head for this…

The Dragon had always followed the teaching of never flashing one’s weapon around until one was perfectly sure it was going to be used. The winged man had never completely understood why that particular habit was been drilled in his training. Maybe his instructor didn’t have much faith in his student’s sense of judgment when it came to handing him a pointy weapon.

Not that I’d blame him… brash and foolish as I was. And still am… why else would I be here?

He knew the answer to that, but left it at the arched doorway. For now the great Keep opened around him like a massive lion’s maw.

It was a vast circular room built of tawny colored base stone. The walls were decorated with mosaic murals which depicted various strange runes, vast interlocking spirals and lion-like images. The art studded the walls with glittering gems and would have been worth a fortune in material, if not in design.

The stone floor was one vast multicolored spiral that began at the center of the structure and spun outward. It, too, was flecked with what seemed to be crushed gems embedded into the stone itself, giving the whole surface a strange luminary glow.

No wonder they had this place guarded. People’d be filching like crazy.

Ten huge golden braziers lined the walls, following the motion of the Keep’s circumference. Each stood nearly three times Zento’s own height, etched with a large glowing rune that seemed to be illuminated by the light of the tall pillars of flame that rose within.

Obviously magic of some sort. Real fire doesn’t burn like that…

Long drapes of black and gold spun down from various vaulted arches that rose and fell in pillared rows. They whispered hushed warnings as Zento strode down the narrow steps into the heart of the chamber. His feet crunched as his boots met the shimmering spiral pattern on the floor. Only in looking closer could he see that tiny runes had been etched in each glittering square.

They certainly spent a lot of time working on this place. It’s gonna make it hard to figure out exactly what in here activates the wards. It could be every stone in the floor for all I know.

And that would be a problem.

He felt drastically exposed as he strode into the center of the Keep. Still, there was nothing but silence to greet him. Unnerved, Zento chose to make the first move.

“So, yeah. Nice hospitality you got going on around here.”

His voice echoed sharply from the golden walls. As it faded, he was again met with only the whispers of the drapes.

“I think you know what I’m here for,” Zento continued. Talking helped to ease his own nerves, despite the fact that his hand still clung tight to the grip of his bhinod. “And I think we’ve got a lot of things figured out. There’s no need to prolong this.”

Still, a pool of silence remained.

“I guess that means you don’t mind if I tear this place apart… cuz like it or not, I’m going to bring down your wards,” the winged man grimaced. He hated resorting to threats. His threats always sounded so lame… Kudako once told Zento it was because his face was far too friendly to be threatening. “That’s fine with you? Good to know, Aur. I can call you Aur, right?”

As if the sound of the name triggered something within the room, a rumbling began to shake the ground under Zento’s feet. The fires within the pillars burst up wildly, now seeming more like beams of light than flame. Each became a stream of gold that rose straight to the ceiling, tracing the runic arches until they met in a brilliant pulsing vortex in the center.

I had to open my big mouth…

Zento back-stepped away, eyes upon the welling of energy above him, not wanting to be caught in the middle of the room should something decide to collapse. The picture on the largest of the mosaics began to writhe, blindingly reflecting the pooling of golden light. At first it seemed a trick of the eyes, but as Zento watched he could see it.

The lion-creature within the picture was moving. Its ice-colored eyes remained unblinking as it stalked forward, growing larger and larger in perspective. Just when it seemed impossible for it to expand anymore, for it had reached the threshold of the wall, it burst beyond its picture confines into the room, looming huge above the warrior.

The earth shook as the beast landed.

“Damnedigaeth!” Zento found himself swearing in desperation, backpedaling away. One great paw would have easily crushed his entire body if the creature had just taken one more step.

Its wild mane blazed from the peaked forehead down to the powerful curve of shoulders. A double set of pointed ears brushed the top of the vaulted ceiling. At the narrowest point, its huge tail was thicker than the trunks of the large, ancient trees that grew near to Nefol. The hide glistened, iridescent gold marked with strange looping symbols that resembled spirals, yet were not.

Up close, Zento could see this was certainly no lion… but that was the closest word that could describe it.

“ZenToYa…” the voice was a rumbling that came from everywhere at once.

It knows my name…

The warrior crouched, eyes never leaving the huge beast that towered over him. He tried to sound unsurprised, “That’s correct…”

“I ask but once — return now to your Master and trouble this Keep no more.” The tone was very polite and reserved. So much that it almost made Zento feel like some terrible, malicious intruder.

“I’m sorry,” the winged man answered. “I can’t do that. The life of my son depends on bringing you back with me.”

“Surely your Master knows that there is little power here to bring back.”

Surprised that the creature was so honest and forthright as to admit his own weakness, Zento pushed ahead, hoping to barter out of a battle, “Yes, and he has told me that he wishes to help you. Zemi doesn’t look to destroy you…”

There was a moment of silence. Zento wondered if the creature didn’t believe him.

When the voice came again, it seemed to hold a hint of sadness. “Of course he would not wish to destroy me. I am a valuable tool, you see. You do understand that is the way of the Arweinydd, ZenToYa? It is their nature to capture, shape and dominate.”

“No… you’re wrong. Zemi isn’t like that.”

“Then tell me why he has built an empire in the Northlands. Tell me why he captures people, makes them into Dragons and calls them his Servants?” the rumble softened some. “Young Earthian, I have seen the rise and fall of an age, the near-death of our universe, due to the flux of Chaos and Creation that takes root in the heart of the Arweinydd. They cannot help themselves. It sweeps them and everything they touch into oblivion.”

Zento had fallen motionless, overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the stark honesty. Knowing that the creature spoke the truth, and the truth without hidden desires.

Still, something in his heart fought back. A flicker of faith in the Dreigiau. Something that wanted to believe that somehow Zemi was different than the others.

“What you say about the Arweinydd may be true.” Zento’s hand gripped the haft of his bhinod tighter. Determination marked his voice, “But, until Zemi shows me otherwise… I will trust in him and follow his guidance.”

“I see,” the ocean-blue eyes were heavy upon him. “Then there is nothing more to discuss.”

“I guess not,” the warrior ran his tongue over his lips, readying himself. Having no idea how to fight such an impossible beast.

True to its word, the creature struck. One huge paw lashed, catlike in speed, crashing into the spot on the ground where Zento had just leapt from. As heavy as it was, as sharp as the sword-point claws gleamed, no damage was done to the stone of the floor.

This is not cool! I’ll never dismantle the wards like this!

Zento leapt again, springing away as the beast rounded on him, huge maw open in silent ferocity. The lion’s agility was simply astounding. Though he had been trained by Kudako to perform well durin high-speed battle, nothing could have readied Zento for the way that this creature moved.

Still, the warrior managed to continue to evade the massive paws, rolling and dodging, springing through the arches. When the lion’s maw came too close for comfort, Zento resorted to ripping down the drapes and flinging them into the beast’s face. Hoping to buy time. Hoping to figure out a way to bring down the undefeatable.

Sliding under the shadow of the claw, Zento grabbed hold of the end of the beast’s tufted tail. Instantly he was thrown about, shaken by the vast thrashings. Catching a moment of balance, he used the momentum of the lash to swing up over the beast’s back. His wings folded for speed, he plunged down at the unguarded flank, the hooked end of his weapon ripping a long gash straight through the golden haunches.

SCORE!

Landing lightly on his feet, Zento turned to run a quick survey over his handiwork. Only to find no trace of a weapon-wound on the beast’s body at all.

What!?

He only had a second to leap out from under the next round of crushing swipes.

It didn’t even touch him!

Zento’s breath whistled through his open mouth, a sudden stinging in his lungs. Again he dodged under one of the stone arches, trying to dart from under the creatures’ watchful eye.

I don’t believe this!

But always, he was targeted. There was no getting away.

How’m I supposed to fight this thing if it can’t be hurt?

And Zento realized, the beast was merely wearing him down. Waiting for his aged endurance to fail him.

This Lion form… It’s like Zemi’s Dragon illusion…

He sprang to the top of the stone steps, caught hold of an overhanging piece of the doorway, and swung himself up inside of the narrow corridor. Arms and legs splayed against the wall and ceiling, Zento wedged tight. The paw swiped up under him, just a little too large to be able to do much but bat into the hallway.

And Zemi used to say that all illusion had a source…

His position was only going to bide him time — his aged muscles were already burning as they bore his weight in the little crook of the wall. The moment he should let go, he would fall straight into the grip of the claws.

Think, Zento! Think!

He could feel the beast shaking the entire structure of the building, trying to force its way through the tiny doorway.

Remember Tsu!

The Keep began to shudder around him. Zento groaned as he felt his hands slipping.

No!

Then, a brilliant flash of light engulfed the other room, a blast of heat unbearable, crackling dry through the air. The corridor below him burst into a stream of flame as the creature attempted to flush him out. Zento gave a shout as the golden fire leapt at him, seeming to have a singular purpose of its own.

No… Tsu!

His own power rose to counter it. Flinging one hand forward, the shield of luminous blue light swept around him, pulled from the heart of desperation. Having lost his hold on the wall, Zento plummeted down into the vortex of flame that waited below.

Not here! Not so close!

He could feel the heat steaming up through the souls of his feet from where the fire had melted the stone of the floor. He could smell the singe, his eyes blurry as he felt the brittle pain upon his body. Yet, his own power held. A blue light in the midst of the gold.

I’m not done yet!

And he thrust forward with both hands. Teeth bared, face turned towards the heart of the chamber, blind to anything else but a desire to overcome. To triumph. To return victorious in the eyes of his son.

I won’t disappoint you again…

Tendrils of smoking blue broke through the rage of flame. Cracks of jagged light began to form in a sizzling azure sphere around the winged man’s form. Outward, he demanded. And the sphere expanded from the flat of his open palms.

I won’t!

But just as the creature’s flame was deflected from Zento’s sphere, the warrior found it impossible to break through, to direct the full force of his own power into the center of the room. Cursing, he watched as his energy spun off, wayward blue streaks leaping, repelled.

One shot straight into the nearby brazier.

A sudden shift took the room. Stunned, Zento watched as the blue light struck the pillar of gold flame, instantly extinguishing the light. It cracking the golden metal, shattering the once-gleaming rune upon its face.

The fires!

The image of the beast wavered, looking paler and less substantial as a resounding peal shook the walls of the keep.

The fires are the source of the illusion!

Instantly, Zento turned his attack. Away from the center of the room. Towards the ten individual pillars of flame. Daggerlike, blue energy streaked from his fingers, leaping around the edge of the room from one brazier to the next, a wave of cooling light.

The reverberation within the Keep had grown intolerable. The image of the lion withered and faded, growing more distant as each pillar was doused. When the final fire died away, the beast vanished all together, the walls of the chamber groaning and buckling inward. A deluge of shimmering tiles began to stream away, a vast crack streaking across the stone floor, straight through the center of the spiral.

Zento felt himself knocked to his knees as the earth rolled beneath him. Weak from exhaustion, he only barely caught himself on his palms. A moment later, all had fallen still. Forcing his head up, he could see that there was now only one source of light left to the ruins of the Keep.

One tiny, almost insignificant flame of gold still remained. Struggling to fight back the darkness. Struggling simply to exist.

Within the face of that desperate, paltry image, Zento could only feel pity. For he knew that this was all that was left to the once-majestic creature from the Time Before.

“Aur…” the sound of Zemi’s voice came from behind.

Zento had not heard the Dreigiau enter the chamber. He had been too transfixed upon the sad little light. As the gentle hand dropped upon his shoulder, the warrior hardly felt it.

“Well done, Zento,” Zemi told him warmly. “Now, why don’t you rest outside? I’ll take it from here…”

“Say hello to Aur!”

The silence after the storm fell over the lands of the Spiral.

Zento could feel it shiver through the forests, a whisper of change sweeping upon the sooty wind. The same shiver rippled over his own body as he strode out of the ornate doors of the Keep. As they grounded shut behind him, ZenToYa quite unceremoniously flopped down at the top of the dais to catch his breath, his wings folded as he slumped against one of the golden stone walls.

It’s over with, Tsu… it’s really over, now.

Still, it was so hard for him to wrap his mind around the immensity of the battle that had just taken place within the Keep. Of the Golden Lion, Aur. And of the things that Aur had told him. Things that, in his newfound exhaustion, he didn’t want to grapple with.

Instead, Zento’s green eyes lifted to gaze out across the land.

He could see that most of the fires had died down, only drifting smoke marking where the fallen war towers had once ringed around the Lion’s Keep. Where the proud banners had hung only hours ago… where the tall wooden outlooks of the Spiral had stood… there was now only darkened sky and charred ruins.

Though it was harder for him to make out, he saw the tiny figures of flaxen-haired people scattered in the distance towards the forest’s heart. They must have been taking refuge from the Dragons within the depths of the trees.

These people… what will become of them?

He remembered the faces of the Spiral guards that had stood against himself and Zemi to protect the Speaker. Something about their haunted, vacant eyes had set Zento’s skin to prickling. And though he could not agree with what was being done to the people that lived within the Spiral by those who ruled over them, he felt a sorrow within his heart as he considered what had just happened.

Zemi… I sure hope you know what you’re doing.

The shadow of one of the Dragons darkened the ground in front of the Keep as the creature glided silently across the sky. Zento didn’t know what Zemi had ordered the Dragons to do now that the diversion was made and the war towers had been torn down.

But it sure seems like they’re patrolling this place for something. I wonder what’s going on…?

The winged man gazed across the skies, as if to find an answer within the smoke-dappled clouds. The Dragon’s shadow did not return. And for a while, Zento was left completely alone to the churning of his thoughts and the gradual calming of his heartbeat. After a passage of time, a familiar sight broke away from the line of lilac forest, drawing nearer to the foot of the Keep.

“Kudako!  Where have you been? You wouldn’t believe what’s just happened here,” the winged man roused himself to his feet and made his way down the steps towards the approaching warrior.

There was something very silent about the look on his old friend’s face. Silent and dark, like the smoky skies. Much to Zento’s surprise, Kudako was holding the reigns to SoYa’s Rhawn, leading the creature over the cobbled ground to the foot of the Keep.

“You went back for Thorne?” Zento questioned, trying to figure out in a round-about way what was going on behind the stillness of the Dragon’s eyes.

“It should not be left to fend for itself in the forest,” Kudako answered slowly, handing the reigns over to the winged man. There was something more avoidant than usual in his withdrawn manner. “There seems to be many Spiral people leaving the destroyed outposts and heading into the shelter of the wilderness.”

Zento’s teeth were set on edge, all of his senses bent on the tone of the Dragon’s voice. The question was forced as it scraped past his lips. “‘Dako… what happened? What’s going on out there?”

“It is finished,” Kudako’s voice was ragged and thin like an old cloth. He fiddled with the fitting of his gloves before leaning his shoulder against one of the golden stone pillars.

His bladed staff… where is it?

“Finished?” Zento echoed, brushing a hand over the nervous Rhawn’s nose.

“The Armsmaster is dead,” the weight of the words were accompanied by Kudako’s glance away. Into the forest. After a moment he spoke again. “The liberation of the Spiral has been completed.”

Liberation…?

Zento’s own gaze fell upon the swaying of the violet leaves in the distance. He drew the tips of his finger over the rough line of his chin.

But at what cost?

As if the Dragon sensed the doubt within the winged man’s heart, he spoke again, “These people will not understand the meaning of what has befallen just yet. It is best not to judge the situation while there is still smoke in the sky.”

Though that made sense, it couldn’t completely quench his concern and uncertainty. Still, Zento made a slow nod.

“What of the Golden Lion?” Kudako straightened again, pulling out of his lean. The change of topic brought Zento out of his thoughts.

“Lion?”

“Yes. The Golden Lion,” the Dragon motioned to the doors of the Keep. “Did you go to battle against it?”

“I… did…” Zento replied quietly, his fingers tightening on Thorne’s bridle.

“Then you have defeated it?” Kudako asked with a quiet surprise. And a hint of pride.

“Not exactly…”

“It surrendered to you?”

“No… there was a fight. Of sorts.”

“Then you must have defeated it?” the Dragon gave a sigh for the obvious.

“You can’t really defeat something that was already defeated, ‘Dako,” Zento began to stroke Thorne’s nose again, mostly to comfort himself.

“You always must choose to be difficult,” Kudako noted.

“This whole thing has been nothing but difficult,” he murmured in reply.

“I agree,” came a nod in reply.

Feeling that Kudako deserved some sort of explanation, Zento continued, “All I did was go in and bring down the wards that were set up in the Keep. The Lion itself… was merely an illusion maintained by the power of the wards. Once the illusion was broken, however, Aur… was too weak to defend himself.”

“Aur?”

“That’s the name of the creature from the Time Before,” the winged man nodded. “Once I pulled down the wards, there wasn’t much left to him. Zemi went inside a while ago, saying he was going to take care of the situation. But I haven’t heard anything from him since.”

“I see…” Kudako frowned.

Zento lowered his head for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “‘Dako… I came here to find the power to help restore my son. If Aur is supposed to be that power… then….”

The Dragon glanced over, watching the winged man fumble to pull words out of the emotion. “You do not think that this Aur-creature has the strength to help your child. Is that your fear?”

“I saw what I saw, ‘Dako,” Zento took in a long breath. “It hardly had the power to keep itself sustained. If I didn’t know any better… it would have chosen to waste away.”

“Then why did it fight against you?”

“Because… it didn’t want to fall under Zemi’s hand,” the winged man glanced over. “That much I could sense from it. It would have rather died… than allowed Zemi to take it.”

“Mmm….” Kudako’s face was pensive.

“Is Zemi really doing that much wrong that Aur should feel that way?” Zento pressed, eyes growing focused and concerned. The scent of dry smoke was irritating his nose, making him sniffle.

It took a bit of time before the Dragon spoke again, his voice thoughtful and distant, “Do you want to know what I believe?”

“What?”

“I believe that Lord Zemi is doing the best that he knows how,” Kudako peered over, golden eyes deep, reflecting the long days past. “I believe he knows many things about how this world works that we cannot even begin to comprehend. I also believe that he wants to help this Aur-creature because it holds knowledge that has been lost to time. And that if you are but patient… you will find the answers to your son’s problems lie along the same path as what Lord Zemi seeks to know for himself.”

“Is this another ‘have faith in Zemi’ lectures?” Zento frowned.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” the Dragon grimaced. Then he added, “Do not doom things before they’ve had a chance to begin. We must all hope for the best, even in what seems to be the darkest of times.”

Strangely enough, it felt as if Kudako’s statement was meant just as much for himself as it were for Zento. As the final words faded, the winged man held to his silence and found his eyes wandering over the forests once more.

There seemed to be nothing more to say between the two of them – not with the secrecy in the stillness that Kudako had fallen back into. It was obvious that things had happened to him as well… things that the Dragon did not want to talk about.

Finally, after what seemed a very long time, the doors to the Keep gave way with a resounding grumble. Zento turned at the sound, green eyes flicking up to the top of the dais. There, as he had expected, stood the Dreigiau.

What he hadn’t expected was the stranger that stood just behind.

Who is that?

In physical build, the stranger was very tall, nearly rivaling Zemi’s height in stature. His hair was a deep sandy-gold color, standing wild and mane-like only to be caught back in a long tail of a wrap. His skin was bronzed, much darker in complexion than the Spiral people had been. He observed the two warriors with a quiet look – caught somewhere between watchful and unconcerned.

There was a hint of recognition as the golden eyes fell upon Zento’s face. The winged man could not help but shiver under the suppressed power of the glance.

“Lord Zemi,” Kudako gave a quick half-bow. Like someone reporting after a duty had been completed.

“Sorry it took so long. Got caught up in some of the tricky stuff,” the Dreigiau nodded to the warrior, then began to make his way down the steps. The stranger followed with a slightly mechanical gait.

“Zemi..?” all the questions that churned in Zento’s mind eeked into the sound of the name. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t find the voice to ask.

“Relax Zento,” Zemi’s voice offered a soothing comfort, the way that it had always been able to. “Everything is going to be alright now.”

The winged man felt himself mouthing ‘are you sure?’. But the sound of his doubts choked and caught in his throat. Zento wanted nothing more than to believe what the Arweinydd said was true… and to voice a question might break the comfort.

“Let me introduce you folks to the new kid in town,” Zemi aptly changed the subject. With a grandiose motion, the Dreigiau indicated the stranger behind him, “Say hello to Aur!”

It was like getting hit with the flat of a blade right between the eyes. Zento’s mouth dropped fully open, boggling for all he was worth at the man-who-wasn’t-just-a-man-a-little-while-ago.

Aur glanced from Zento to Kudako then back again, face unconcerned and unresponsive.

In the midst of the silence of the Spiral, only one thought flickered through the winged man’s mind.

This… is going to be… interesting…